warmskies | KHR Rarepair Week 2020 (June 21 Start)

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khr,
khr rarepair

KHR Rarepair Week 2020 (June 21 Start)

1. Storm Day
Flameswap AU
Chikusa/Mukuro
"take a knife, cut the world in two"

2. Sky Day
Old Gods / Scars
Chikusa/Chrome
"warm ghosts, cold air"

3. Sun Day
Isekai AU
Chikusa/Everyone
"everyone gets hungry"

4. Lightning Day
Bookshop AU / Curses
Chikusa/Gokudera
"the falling is a process"

5. Rain Day
Platonic Cuddling
Chikusa/Ken
"not asking to be spotless (just asking for you)"

6. Cloud Day
Ten Years Later
Chikusa/Yamamoto
"glad to exist"

7. Mist Day
Historical AU
Chikusa/Hibari
"love (and corner men) are elusive"

8. Earth Day
Accidentally Saving the Day
Chikusa/Ryohei
"what it feels like to know a heart"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Edited 2020-04-09 19:14 (UTC)

There used to be seventy of them.

That number quickly drops to only half that number, in very short time.

It doesn't take a genius to realize that simple fact, and Subject Number 69 - his name was Faustino, once, he thinks - likes to think he's a little smarter than that. Who could miss the way that there's suddenly so much more room in the storage room that a small portion of their group sleeps in? Who could miss the way that the line they're all forced into is suddenly so much shorter?

And there are dead bodies, too. Obviously.

69 isn't entirely sure if the scientists actually care at all for the lives that they've extinguished, care enough to move twisted and bloody and bruised corpses out of sight, but his bitterness says that they don't. After all, if they cared, then they would clean them up. Give them a funeral. 69 is fairly certain that he attended a funeral once, in a life before this choking artificial smell and painfully bright fluorescent lights. It's what you're supposed to do when someone dies. Then again, the Estraneo scientists don't seem to much bother with what someone should do. If they did, then they wouldn't torture and kill kids.

Instead, the longer he silently observes, the more dead bodies that begin to pile up, the more he's certain that the Estraneo view them as nothing more than cattle, and dead beasts of burden are to be shoved out of the way, out of sight, so that they don't trip on the sprawled out limb of a girl who never got to see her tenth birthday.

As time stretches onwards, the deaths start coming a little slower... but they still continue. 69 isn't entirely certain if everyone else knows that, when he looks out to the rest of those who share in his storage room, who line up with him in the labs. Some of them still plead for mercy. Some of them think that maybe they'll survive. Others, perhaps the most foolish of all, think that maybe if they just endear themselves to the scientists in just the right way...

He hates them. Maybe that's counter productive, but 69 doesn't think so. After all, it's not as though he's lacking in the feeling. He might hate the Estraneo, the scientists, so much that he thinks it fills his lungs, is thick enough that he could eat it and survive on his hatred alone... But he has enough to spare for everyone else, too. For these baying sheep who never shut up, who can't do anything, who are all just being lead to the slaughter with nothing to save them.

Maybe that means he hates himself, too, for all that he's much quieter on the subject.

There are two other kids, two other subjects, that he doesn't quite hate, however. Honestly, even with all his watching, it takes him a while to pick up on the pair, but it's made easier as their numbers steadily dwindle. One of them has been tested perhaps the most, which says a lot for how sturdy he is, and that would be Subject Number 14. Honestly, 69 has no idea how he never paid much attention to him before. 14, with plain brown eyes and blond hair that never seemed to see a brush even before all of this, has a fire in him. His fear, his despair, gets channeled into his anger. That's something 69 gets to see for himself when, after being dragged back from one painful round of experimentation where the Estraneo seem to be making progress, 14 thrashes in the scientist's grip and digs his teeth straight into the adult's hand.

The man is kept out of the lab from the resulting infection for a good few days. It doesn't mean much, in the long term, but 69 takes what small and petty pleasures where he can.

In comparison... In comparison, Subject Number 49 is far easier to discount, to forget. Yet the second he allows his gaze to focus on the silent child, 69 feels a sort of kinship almost immediately. In 14, he had been drawn to a rage he's only been able to cultivate deep inside himself. With 49... It's in their shared quiet. It cannot completely be so, oh, he understands that. Sometimes, when he returns from experiments and health tests on himself, 69 sometimes see 49 with puffy red eyes behind those glasses of his- the result of wailing in a corner away from the adults who would surely punish him for such noise.

But 49 does not give adults the satisfaction of seeing him break, even if it is a foregone conclusion that they all very well might. He is simply quiet, and pushes through the tests with as much as he can, delicate though 69 suspects he might be.

So, in all of his observations, 69 finds that those two fellow children are the only ones worth... anything. The only ones he has any interest in, although he would never call it any sort of care. Yet observing other children can only get him so far, even on the day to day. Inbetween all of those, he observes something else: he observes the scientists. He observes their experiments.

Most of what the scientists say goes over his head completely. They say things like "molecular level", or "controlled trials", or "agonal". If those are Italian words, then 69 is fairly certain that they're a kind of Italian that he was never able to learn because he was taken from school so early on. Yet then there are the other words. They're words that should make sense, and yet, in the way the scientists say them, use them... It sounds different than what 69 has ever heard before.

What the scientists, and the Estraneo in general, talk about are... 'flames', of some sort. Yet instead of being the average flame, like they use to heat up their chemicals or occasionally in experiments, it seems almost a more abstract sort of thing.... And all of the children they experiment on seem to have it.

Partially for lack of anything better to do than wait and suffer, partially because any knowledge could be useful one day, hopefully, 69 tries to listen in on such discussions. He begins to make a tally in his head of just what these flames are, how many of them exist. It takes a while for him to be certain, but seven seems to be the general amount... Although there might be fourteen? Fifteen? It gets difficult, at times, to tell just what exactly is theory and what the scientists themselves are investigating.

Regardless of how many there actually are, the Estraneo seem focused on seven in particular, and 69 gradually begins to pick up on various details to these so called 'flames'. The Sky Flame is the rarest one, as far as he can tell. It rarely comes up in conversation, except in its relation to the other six flames, and he sometimes manages to catch wind of how delicate the Estraneo would have had to treat such a rare find. Yet apparently none of the children have any relation to this Sky, this sought after treasure... and so, 69 reads the implication clearly.

In comparison to a Sky Flame child, the rest of them are worthless.

Edited 2020-04-09 20:41 (UTC)

Contrasting the Sky, Storm flames are highly abundant, at least when it comes to the mafia, apparently. In the beginning of the experiments, a fourth of the children in their group are apparently carries of the Storm. 69 didn't envy them back then, and such a feeling never lessened. If to be rare is to be treasured, even if only theoretically, hypothetically, then to be common... To be common is to be treated like the lowest of the low. Like refuse. 69 isn't entirely sure if that is what contributes to the atrocious state those bodies inevitably end up in, or if because they were all used so quickly, so soon... but they are a sharp shock, in his earliest memories, to welcome him to the horrors that are being in the Estraneo labs.

No other corpse ever becomes as mangled and disgusting as those of the discarded Storm children.

There aren't any exactly in near as number as them, then, but, through his observations, 69 supposes that the children for Lightning would follow up. He's not sure what the difference between the two are, honestly... but, alongside one other flame 'type', they are suggested to the most physically demanding of tests and experiments. It is a Lightning child who gets a gun pressed to his temple, whose life disappears right before all their eyes, with someone screaming his name.

Someone screams the dead boy's name. 69 wonders how they were able to remember it, after all of this, and if it even matters.

Lightning children always seem to go into rigor mortis so quickly, too, he notices when the corpses have been left around near them long enough. It's a morbid fact that 69 never forgets, the way they are practically statues as they lay there on the floor and when they are eventually hauled up to be disposed of. That, like the twisted bodies of the Storm, are things he never forgets either.

After Storm, after Lightning, there are three Flames that seem to be of an average sort when it comes to their existence overall, and then, a little more uncommon, would be something called Cloud flames. Because they are a little more uncommon, their deaths are as well... But, like so many others, they all die in the end too, with their bodies mutated, twisted, not right. With their treasured status, even in death, 69 only occasionally sees their corpses in rooms he passes as he is escorted to and from testing chambers. What he sees... Growths under skin, body parts where they should not be. He thinks, once, that he sees someone with an extra eye, bulging and bloody from their cheek... but he is forced to walk too quickly. He can't be sure.

So. That leaves three flames as the very last. Three flames that are not so common as to be even more expendable than they all are to start with, and yet still more than plentiful enough. Sun, Rain, Mist.

Those are the flames each of them seem to possess, as it turns out. Those are the flames, ironically, that makes it to the end despite their common enough status.

It is the Sun that 69 ends up knowing the most about. The Sun that has its children die almost as normal as can possibly be expected, in this twisted place. At least, their bodies seem no worse for wear no matter if it is through overdose, or electrocution, or simple physical violence. They die with their eyes wide, the ones that disappear from living... but at least they die like humans. They die like something that 69 is fairly certain the rest of them are growing further and further from.

Yet 14 does not die.

In some ways, it almost seems as though it is not for the scientists' lack of trying. Even across the facility, sometimes 69 can still hear the screams echoing through the halls, the howls of pain that seem more bestial than human. In the past, over the course of days, most children practically collapse once they have been released from whatever testing or experiments have finished for the day. They curl up in corners, lay face down on the floor, give up to life. Instead, as time passes, 14 only seems to get more energetic instead. He sinks down against a wall, only, half an hour later, to be up again, pacing wildly, returning to the side of 49. It's only a wonder where he gets the energy from if one is oblivious to their surroundings.

Whatever experiments they're doing that seem to change the texture in 14's eyes, that fill him with such rampant energy, that necessitated cutting open his face from cheek to cheek over the bridge of his nose and that never healed properly.... They seem to be working.

It is far harder for 69 to understand what the scientists are doing to him, and he already, to his frustration, understands so little. It all only seems to be nothing but pain, nothing but suffering- is that what it's like for the others in the midst of their own experiments as well? He has no idea, only that, if 14 has more energy to spare in the aftermath, than he is the opposite. It takes time for that feeling to level out, until he almost feels as though he's back to how he used to feel at the start of all of this: exhausted and weary, but not actually in pain. Which is certainly interesting, he will say that much.

If the experiments performed on his own body tell him nothing, than 69 merely looks to others like him, others carrying this 'Rain Flame'. In those, perhaps they are the most pitiful because their deaths seem almost drawn out. All of theirs are, of course; what is this but one long drawn out death? Yet the way children of Rain slowly die is far more visible. Subtle, but visible. Paling skin, light fading from their eyes, their fingertips seeming to grow cold and blue... Watching others of Rain die is like watching them drown swallow by swallow. 69 is glad that, whatever experiment he is going through, he's not dying like that.

So that leaves the last among the flames, the last among their remaining trio: 49, someone of Mist.

When he has the chance to listen in and watch those little corpses be pulled away, when the scientists use words simple enough that even he as a child can understand them, 69 learns something interesting about such a group. Overall, not every child dies exactly the same in their group. The Estraneo are far too... creative to limit themselves to only one sort of experiment, or to try the exact same thing to the very end for every subject. But there are always similar things stretched across one group, things that crop up in their deaths more than anything else.

Yet with those Mist Children, the similarities seem to almost be that there are no similarities. They all die in a variety of strange ways, through manners that 69 hadn't thought were available to the Estraneo in this lab separated so severely from the outside world. As though they had drowned, suffocated, been bitten to death... The grotesque list goes on. Sometimes, they die like they're asleep... and other times, they die as though they had overdosed, with glazed over eyes and drool seeping from their mouths along the snot from their noses.

Mist is apparently not as rare as the Sky, far too close to earth and gravity where it is soiled by how much of it there is... Yet there is apparently still some value in it, if the words he overhears from the scientists imply. There is potential.

Of course there is potential in 49. He can see it whenever he looks over at his bespectacled companion in the storage room, or in the line up, and sees his eyes patiently absorbing everything the scientists say with a bit more comprehension than 69 ever feels. But there's the twist: he sees that some potential in 14, too, in his violent determination, in the fire that refuses to die in his eyes, in how quick and strong he was even before the experiments.

And 69? Oh, his own potential is limitless, and he knows that without needing anyone else to tell him at all.

That would take a lot more understanding from such one track minds, however, and, one day... One day they push towards their idea of potential past its breaking point.

Honestly, it's almost funny. When he wakes up from his latest attempt at getting sleep - day and night having long since lost any meaning when there's only headache inducing fluorescent lighting on 24/7 save for the rare power outage - it doesn't seem like things are going to be any different than they have been all the times before. When 69 rouses himself from unconsciousness, it's to the same empty room, and the familiar sight of 14 pacing wildly from place to place.

69 can understand his frustration. The storage room, the paltry space that makes up their 'living' space with only some blankets that they've mostly taken from other children now long dead, is in some ways almost as bad as the main labs. There, they are strapped down, subjected to pain that always seems worse than that which came before it. Yet the storage room is where they are sent to wait to die and nothing else. The walls are blank. The few boxes that have been placed inside over time are mostly paper and cardboard that can't even be used as proper makeshift weapons, even if no child would win against so many adults. The lights drone on, and on, and on, and on.

Every little bit of it is meant to sap their energy, their hatred, their will to live.

As best as he possibly can, 69 fights against that in his own ways. On this day, it's nothing special, just more of the usual. He's never been one for conversation with any of the other children, frankly, not when any of them could die in the blink of an eye, so he lets 14 do his aggravated pacing and ignores the blond when he wipes at his eyes as though that can stop the tears that constantly threaten to spill. Instead, he sits against the wall opposite of the door with one knee drawn upwards and the other sprawled out before him. All he can do is go over what he knows in his head, try to remember the layout of the lab from all the times he's been guided through it to different labs and rooms. It would be easier if he had some way to draw it, but he makes do. What else does he have available to him?

Lost in his own head, 69 himself doesn't realize when something in the lab has changed. All he realizes is that Subject 14 has changed, frozen in place as he looks towards the door with clear intent. That... is different. Even the approach of one of the scientists, or their guards in their pitch black suits- they never warrant such a reaction. 14 just tenses up in those cases, narrows his eyes towards the door warily. There's wariness here, too, but... more like confusion, now. Curiosity.

Things changing means there's always a chance for- something. An escape, knowledge, an item of some sort. 69 keeps that in mind as he pushes himself up onto his feet. The sound of his clothes and his feet against the ground has 14 jolt, looking back at him like he forgot his existence; he likely did. Yet he adjusts well enough because, before 69 can take more than a step forward, 14 is hustling towards the door and gesturing for him. "C'mon!" he says in a hushed voice.

Obviously that's what he was planning on doing, but 69 doesn't take it too seriously. 14 is always just talking, for no other reason these days it seems than to merely fill up the silence. Since that's the opposite of what the Estraneo want for them, 69 is more than happy to accept it. He's also more than happy to settle besides 14 at the door, lips thin as he presses his ear up against the door.

Normally, the Estraneo lab compounds are.... silent. If there is noise, it is of the quiet sort, something that is more of a soft drone as plans and experiments are discussed, orders are given. It means the screams of their experiments, of their children, often stand out in stark contrast exactly because of such silence. Yet there is no quiet droning here, but also no screaming. Instead, even right outside of the door, 69 can hear the sound of panicked yelling, frantic footsteps, the sound of plastic and metal banging and clicking against one another- guns, maybe? Tasers, sedatives? 69 cannot say for certain, but he knows the sounds of preparation when he hears them.

Pressing his cheek so hard against the door hurts, and doesn't help him hear anymore, so 69 sinks to the floor instead, and he's unsurprised to find 14 already there with his nostrils flaring as though scent will help anything at all. Still, he is the obedient sort- a communal sort, the kind of person who needs other people, 69 thinks. It explains why he has clung to 49 so often in the past. Right now, 69 is grateful for it, because it means that 14 moves aside to give 69 room.

Something is missing. Someone is missing. The adults want to, need to find them. Not even a crack in the wall can be missed. Most of the words are more complicated, or hard to hear, or too distant... But that is the basis of it all, he thinks. That is the reason for the panic.

69 has barely had time to pull that summary together before footsteps can be heard going right to their room with obvious intent, and the two of them scramble up onto their feet away from it. They barely make it in time. When the door swings open, 69 thinks it almost takes off his nose and misses by a mere couple of centimeters. He doesn't have much time to care about if a door almost hit him, however. His more pressing concern is the gun already held out even closer to his face than normal, and 69 has no choice but to move backwards along with 14 until they've both been pressed into an empty corner.

For a few heartstopping seconds, 69 thinks this is it. That, whatever has happened, they are being blamed, or they have ceased to have a use to the Estraneo's eyes, and they will be the last of this batch of children to perish under the hands of cruel adults. Just the idea of it fills him with rage, a spark that burns through him and almost makes him do something foolish. He wonders if 14 feels the same, if the two of them could act as one, bite through the man's wrist and pry the gun from his hand. What comes after that, he wouldn't be sure, but they can't die here, he refuses to die here-

Before he can take a chance, other adults begin to filter into the room, and he realizes that this isn't an execution. Instead, they turn over what scarce things are actually in the storage room, shove aside boxes and blankets, looking for... something. That 'someone' that is apparently so valuable. The adults even search the two of them, jerking them around impatiently far worse than they ever have in any of the past experiments. Yet what they're looking for isn't here in the storage room, apparently, and they all immediately filter out, quick as a heartbeat. There is no explanation, not even a second glance, just the click of a door as it shuts tight behind them.

For a moment, all they can do is stand there, watching the door warily as though it might slam open again. It doesn't. 14's exhale comes out in nearly a snarl. "What the hell is their problem!?" It's a curse 69 doesn't think he knew before, but picked up from listening to the scientists and guards.

What can 69 even answer in response to that? He has just as little an idea as 14 does. Fortunately, he doesn't need to answer. Someone else does. "Me."

Both of them jump and whirl around, searching out the source. It's not a source 69 knows, exactly, but it is the voice of a child, a boy- and there is only one other boy that should ever be in this room. Yet he should not be here, because he wasn't.

But there's no denying what their eyes see. Sure enough, 49 is curled up in another corner of the room- against the wall on the same side that the door is. His knees are drawn all the way up against his chest, arms locked tight around them, and he's shaking violently- the same way many of them often do after any experiment. There's always good reason for it, with what is done to them, but today 49 especially has just cause: there's a bandage taped against one eye, layers of it that nonetheless are showing spots of blood here and there. Even stranger- 69 shakes his head violently, trying to refocus his attention on the other boy.

Even stranger is that it almost feels as though he's as light as air, as though parts of him are hard to see- but maybe that's not so strange. Not after what they've all see pass through these labs, and the things that have been done to them.

Quick as a bullet, 14 rushes over to the other boy, nearly tripping in his haste, and he takes in deep inhales only to whine. "You smell different!" he says, hands hovering over 49's shoulders like he doesn't know what else he can possibly do here. Perhaps it's nothing, but that doesn't mean anything. As he slowly approaches the other two boys, 69's mind churns.

49 was taken away for some sort of experiment long before he woke up, he knows that for certain. Despite how much the adults had torn through the storage room, there's nowhere to really hide here. A couple of boxes can maybe act as a decent place to curl up behind for some attempt at privacy; he can remember how some of them would look away instinctually if another of their number was using it to cry behind. That was when there were enough of them for it to matter. So if 49 had been taken away, then when had he come back? For all that he might have been lost in his own head, 69 knows he's never so out of it- unless drugged or in mass amounts of pain - that he ignores it whenever the door opens. Not with how important it can be. And the door hasn't opened ever since he awoke. Not except for just now, with the adults.

So. Had he come in then? Something like two birds with one stone, with everyone heading to the same destination regardless? No, 69 is fairly sure that hadn't happened either. Yes, he'd been distracted by the gun pointed at his face, and, yes, he had been frantically trying to come up with some sort of plan that would get him out of it, whether that meant teaming up with 14 or not... But 69 had noticed when the other adults had poured in. It had drawn his attention, because it had been a sign that perhaps he wouldn't die after all. And not a single one of them had been dragging in the remaining child for the Estraneo experiments.

And thus there is the question, the thing that leaves 69's mouth as he slowly kneels by the two boys: "How did you get in here?"

Sometimes, in the aftermath of experiments, they go quiet. Words don't go in, reaching their minds, and words don't come out, leaving their tongues. Before, 69 has never thought that to be a particularly great issue. After all, it's not as if he's ever been a particularly great conversationalist, never an involved one, with how many children never came back. Yet right now, this is far too important for him not to try... .and far too important for one child to go blank on them.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to hold his breath for long. 49 actually looks up at him, and there's some clarity in his gaze when he does so. He's coherent, awake, present- and that's the most important thing. "I...." He takes in a deep shuddering breath, trying to force him to speak, and 69 wonders just how on earth he can do that. Yet while he struggles with that thought, 14 acts first. With zero hesitation, he presses up against the other boy, and bumps their heads together. 14 has always been the most physical of them... And that seems to actually be of some use, now. With someone's touch grounding him, 49 takes another deep breath and tries again.

"The experiment today.... It was a surgery. They..." He shakes, reaching up underneath his glasses to lightly touch the bandage there. "...They put something in me. And.... And things made sense." 69's brow furrows at that; what does that mean? 49 keeps going. "I realized... I remembered... what Mist is. And it.. It let me disappear. I was there, but they didn't know it, they couldn't see me, and I..." He breaks off, gaze unfocusing, and his breathing begins to become shakier again.

None of what he's saying makes sense, but what else is new in this twisted world they've been dragged into? Maybe that really is what the scientists have been working so hard to create, to make them capable of. After all, 14 has a nose that's as good as a dog's, now. Why not make a child able to disappear? But they aren't going to get anywhere like this. The adults will probably ignore them, this room, in their rush to try and find 49.... but that can only last for so long. Eventually someone will remember to check in on this room, if only to shove them something that can barely be called food, and supplies all the vitamins and whatever else children could need.

Comfort, reassurance, gentleness - none of those have been necessary, have even had any use, in this miserable and medically whitewashed life of theirs. If anything, it's the equivalent of harming themselves to believe in such false goodness. But, he realizes in a moment of clarity... That's exactly what he needs to do, here. It's exactly what's needed to pull 49 out of his shock.

When is the last time he gave such things to another person? When is the last time that he received it? 69 can't recall, and he barely knows what he should do now. All he can do is reach forward, curl his fingers loosely around the wrist of the hand 49 has up against his eye. It draws the boy's attention back to him, focused once more, and here is where 69 has no idea what he can even say. Then again, 14 said nothing. Perhaps that is enough.

It is enough.

There is no such thing as safety for them, not here, not yet, but the storage room is enough for the time being, and so is the presence of all three of them together. With all of that combined, 49 begins to tell them more indepth of just what he's capable of, now. There's such a list of things that it almost sounds nonsensical, fake.... but there's no other way 49 could have arrived in the room, is there? 69 puts aside his expectations of reality, and, together, they pull together a plan, the two of them. All of it goes over 14's head, for the most part, but that's fine. He even announces as such, saying he'll do whatever they need him to.

And what he needs to do, what they all need to do, is a lot.

With new abilities at their disposal, it's not hard to get the door open, and not hard to slip through the chaos of the labs completely unseen, unnoticed, nonexistent. 69 thrives through it all, honestly. Getting a complete look at the labs has been something he's wanted to do since as far as he can remember. Reciting it to himself quietly, that could only do so much, and that much was far too little. Being able to walk the halls, look into the various rooms with nothing stopping them... It's intoxicating, and tells him far more than he could have ever dreamed of when he'd first awoken today.

There's no question that, before they act, they need supplies and equipment first. They need weapons. This is where his and 49's penchant for observation truly comes to use. Cobbling their knowledge together, they know that 14 has been experimented on for a very particular set of equally experimental items, and they make their way to the laboratory that had seemed most used for Sun children, for 14. Their blond companion bristles the second they draw close, and his pupils blow out in remembered panic and adrenaline... But there's no helping it. They need to be in here, need to make their way past the lock which holds perhaps a dozen strange molds of teeth that make 69 frown in distaste when he handles them.

They're not meant for him, so it doesn't really matter what he thinks about them.

Edited 2020-04-11 02:48 (UTC)

Most of the labs aren't far from one another, since it makes sense to keep medical and testing equipment near to one another. Space is hard fought for in the Estraneo labs. It is all they have left, after all, with the rest of the world against them. To even show their faces is a death sentence. Thinking of buying a house or any sort of building? Impossible. So better to keep all their equipment close together, in case they need it for another lab at a critical and unexpected junction.

That works to their advantage, the three of them, and, with many of the adults having tried to search in other areas of the compound, they're allowed a moment of breathing space as they dig through what's available. 49 has no hesitation in what direction he goes, the lab he chooses. 69 understands immediately, once they pry open the door. There, the smell of blood rolls out to greet them in a wave. 14 has the sharpest nose, but he's also lived in this place just as long as all three of them have, with death heavy in the air... So it says a lot that even he has to pause at the doorway, one hand reaching up to cover his nose and mouth.

A trident, after all, is like a lance, but with three points to it instead of just the one. This thing... It's only the point end of it, no staff. That doesn't seem to bother 49 much as he takes the case it is in into his arms clumsily, and looks to the two of them. "This- it's important," he tells them, his voice still a little husky from screaming and trauma. "Even they said so. What they did to me... It's connected.. I think."

Those are not particularly confident words, but 69 has to admit that 49 has told the truth about everything so far once he had come back to him and 14. There's no reason to doubt him now, especially with the lack of time that they have. Frowning, he leans in a little closer to inspect the case and the padlock dangling from it. "It needs a key," he murmurs, although he understands they're not likely to get it off any of the scientists. For starters, even discounting the risk, they have no idea which of the adults has the key. That means they'll have to rely on more of 49's strange powers again....

At least, that's what he initially thinks, until 14 presses close with a hand still over his nose. "Maybe the teeth they were making can break through," he suggests. "I mean, they can't just have been making regular teeth, that's dumb." Which isn't necessarily wrong, but that doesn't mean what 14 seems to think it means. Yet before either he or 49 can stop the blond, he's fumbled through the many strange teeth in his hands and shoved one at random- one with some of the sharpest fangs and canines in it out of all the others.

69 starts to sigh, but the sound is cut off as 14 makes a strangled noise of- pain? alarm? It's hard to say, only that the teeth go scattering across the floor and he hunches in on himself. Without an ounce of hesitation, 69 steps away- he won't let himself be caught up in whatever is happening, won't let himself get hurt and unable to go on when they are so close to freedom, to revenge, to satisfaction.

49 does the exact opposite. Dropping the case to the side with a loud clatter, he reaches for 14 with trembling hands because... What? Because he's confident that his newfound and fledgling powers will protect him? Because he thinks 14 is somehow too valuable a member to lose? Whatever is going through his head is impossible for 69 to discern... but his boldness seems to be rewarded. 14's body twists, morphs, bare feet and clenched hands jerking, trembling, while long claws grow out from his nails. His hair bristles with this transformation, and 69 holds his breath to see what comes next... But if there are any other changes, they are less visible things.

At least, less visible than the gray mark, roughly in the shape of a wolf, that is on his cheek when he finally looks upwards to them.

Less visible than how the fangs seem to fit so perfectly in his mouth that they've practically replaced his actual teeth.

"That was weird," is all 14 says, as though his body hasn't gone through such terrifying changes, as though fangs haven't replaced his actual teeth, as if he's not partway on the route to a monster. Then again, that was always what the Estraneo were working towards, wasn't it? To make their own little monsters. Well, 69 reflects as he watches 14 bite through the solid metal of the padlock, they will certainly get them.

With the trident head retrieved, that takes care of 49's weapon even if his powers mean he scarcely really needs it, and 14 very obviously is set on that front as well although they don't have time to experiment with what purpose the other teeth carry. That really only leaves 69... and his abilities are not so clearcut. Still, they do not know for what purpose the scientists experimented on him, and, now, it is him instead of 14 who they don't have time for. That knowledge, that understanding, fills his mouth with bitterness... but he won't let that stop his need to burn this entire place to the ground.

Edited 2020-04-11 22:45 (UTC)

So, ignoring 49's concerned glances, 69 begins to immediately raid the lab that they're all in for whatever is on hand. He doesn't understand most of what he can reach, frankly- the names of the chemicals are too convoluted where they're listed, for example. Still, he figures he doesn't much need to understand what they are, or what they can do. Any one of these things could put an adult in immense pain, or make them go catatonic, or any number of terrible side effects. Certainly 69 wouldn't object to any of those. So, armed with a select number of needles, he joins the other two, and they get to work.

Even with these newfound powers, they still have to be cautious. The adults outnumber them, after all.... So they have to be quick. They have to be methodical. They can't let a single one of them escape. And it's hard... at first. Catching stragglers from the Estraneo pack isn't easy, when everyone is running everywhere, often in groups. But they do get lucky, sometimes, with an adult running back to the labs for- something. It doesn't really matter what. It's easy, then, for 69, or 49, or 14, to take him down before he has a chance to cry out.

It's almost... fascinating, how easily they fall into this tactic, how easily they understand that someone being bigger or stronger doesn't necessarily mean anything against a surprise attack. It almost doesn't even seem to matter what form that surprise attack takes. Sometimes it's a syringe jabbed straight through a labcoat with deadly force, injecting any manner of terrible chemicals or poisons. Other times, it's teeth sunk straight into the jugular from a child who can leap much higher than any normal human being, choking back screams of pain in a gurgle of blood. Whatever 49 does, it seems to stun his targets, keep them in place, just long enough for him to sink his trident into their stomach, their leg, whatever body part is nearest in order to make them come down to the ground for finishing blows.

As the blood begins to pool along the floors of the labs, and sink into their clothing, 69 can't help be fascinated with it all. No wonder the adults had so little problems with killing child after child. It's so easy to kill the adults in turn. Was that always true, or is it because of what the scientists have created?

He decides, as he watches a scientist spasm and gurgle violently on the floor with a needle stuck into his stomach, that it doesn't really matter.

It only takes so long before the rest of the Estraneo begin to realize that something terrible is happening, that all their plans have gone wrong, but by then it's too late. Even when they come in pairs, in groups, by that point... They've all become so very good at killing. At utilizing the element of surprise. Soon, they don't even need to hide in the labs, instead moving steadily outwards throughout the rest of it until they've all reached a door that every one of them have only seen once in their life.

It was the door that they first saw before they were dragged down here into the labs, and lost their names.

The Estraneo only have so much resources to spend, and the exit out of the labs is honestly fairly short sighted. If there was an emergency, then how would they ever escape in an orderly fashion, from all sorts of areas in the lab? The answer, of course, is that they didn't. The answer is that it is almost laughably easy, compared to everything else, for them to undo the locks that bar the door and slip up to the rest of the world above.

Edited 2020-04-12 19:09 (UTC)

With how expansive the Estraneo labs were, they had to be connected to somewhere, and that somewhere happens to be an old mansion buried far away in forests that are very nearly not in Italy at all, although that last part is something they all learn much later. In the beginning, all they learn are what they see and smell and hear with their own senses:

Most of the mansion is untouched, dusty, carpets and drapes moth eaten and hole ridden. There are only a few men stationed here, watching out for intruders from the outsiders and wholly aware of that which is trapped inside with them. The Estraneo labs were hidden even deeper than the three of them could have ever realized, because there is another basement for more simple living far away from where one might be spotted through the mansion's many windows. They are deep, deep in a forest where even the roof is covered in leaves and moss in order to not be spotted from above.

It is, with the extermination of the Estraneo, now theirs.

Safety isn't something any of them have truly known, so they rest for the first night hidden away in a corner on the mansion's main floor. There's more ways to escape through there, after all, unlike the labs with their one exit. There are more random bits and pieces that allow for cover, like old furniture that doesn't seem as though it has been touched in years, or, if it has, rarely. It's good enough, for a first night.

Their first morning actually comes a little bit before actual morning, and 69 only rouses himself because he notes the lack of two other bodies near to his. When he gets up, his two companions are looking out a window. He almost berates them, lashes out... and then shakes his head out of it, further into awareness. No, this is 49. If they aren't seen, then they aren't seen. It leaves him uneasy, putting that kind of trust in anyone... but he will simply have to put up with it for now. 49 has proved his abilities, so 69 gets up to his feet, and looks up with the two of them.

It's so strange, being able to look up and just.... keep going. There are no lights to blind them, no blank ceiling reminding them of how trapped they all are. It's just an expanse of dark sky, stars scattered across it in a way that 69 thinks he could get lost in. They had this sight robbed from them, he realizes, truly realizes. They've had so much robbed from them, little things that he never thought of back down in the labs. They'd forgotten so much.

That.... That is the sort of thing that can't be forgiven. That must be retaliated against.

Perhaps all of them are thinking similar thoughts, because, a little after 69 has joined both of them to look out into the night sky, 14 speaks up. "So what're we gonna do now?" he asks. When 69 looks to him, his eyes seem more black than brown, and the night sky reflects in them. "I mean, the guy, the boss- he was always sayin' we were gonna get back the glory of the Estraneo, or whatever. But I don't wanna do nothin' for them, especially since they're dead."

The "guy". The "boss". Don of the Estraneo Family - all of them now firmly dead, slowly rotting somewhere in a space nearest to the laboratory exit. It is surely what he deserves.

Well, 69 already knows what he wants, and he stares intently at 14 and 49. "We should get revenge," he says, so full of conviction that he feels as though it burns a bonfire in him.

14 perks up, not opposed to the idea. "But- aren't all the Estraneo dead?" he asks, cocking his head sharply to the side.

"But it's not only the Estraneo's fault that we're in here, is it?" 69 presses, feeling an electricity burning underneath his skin, rattling behind his teeth. The Estraneo died too quickly, too soon; he needs to get all of this out of him in some way. "Don't you remember before we went down there? When we used to live in other places, with other people? The other mafia, they shot at us too, even though we had done nothing. You remember, don't you?"

They have to remember. The idea that he might be the only one, now, who remembers those dies of bullets shattering glass and burying themselves by the dozens in walls, by seeing corpses fall at his feet long before those corpses had been his fellow children illuminated by fluorescent light... 69 isn't sure he would be able to handle it, being the only one to remember those days. He has certainly handled worse, far worse as the scars all over his body can attest to.... but this would be the single strand of hay that would send him shattering into something more shards than human, than monster.

But 14 bristles, and bares the fangs he has not taken out even once since he first put them in. But 49 takes in a deep and shaky breath, eye distant in the memories that overtake him, before he quietly says, "I remember."

And 69 eases up.

That they remember at all is enough for him in just that instant, which means he doesn't take it as badly as he could when 49 continues with, "But do we have to do that...?" 69's frown is immediate, questioning, and it doesn't dissuade 49 at all. All the other boy does is stare back at him, bone deep in his exhaustion to the point of apathy. It reminds him more than a little of the gazes in so many children in the past, before they had given up to death. That 49 is still going is.... "There's nothing stopping us from just... doing whatever we want, now. We could run away from here, and even the whole country, and just.... never talk to anyone again." His gaze shifts back up to the stars, shoulders weighed down like he wants to return to sleep. "There can't be a single adult who can be trusted after all..."

Well, on that front, 69 supposes they are united. Adults were the ones who strapped them down to tables, sliced them apart for their own gain. Adults who shot at them with more bullets than could fill a child's body, who drove them away from any chance at a normal life. Adults who let all of this happen.

14 slumps against the window frame, sinking down until its only his fingers clinging to the sill and his chin resting upon it. "Why don't we just stay here?" he suggests, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's ours anyway, right? 'Cuz it was the Estraneo's, and we're the only Estraneo left, so it's ours." Which is certainly a type of logic, really, although there are some flaws. "Looks like it's already in the middle of nowhere anyway."

Edited 2020-04-13 02:00 (UTC)

Already 69 is shaking his head. "The Estraneo were in the middle of nowhere because they had enemies," he reminds him, finally sinking down to lean against the wall beneath the window. He feels a little more comfortable here, in the scarce amount of shadow he has available to him. "Those enemies are probably still searching for them, and us. We have no idea when they'll have show up again, or how close they are to finding this place."

"That's not wrong..." 49 rubs at his good eye, the one not covered by a bandage, and half sits on the sill. Apparently even sinking down to the floor is too far and too much effort right now. "But... We don't have anything for our own... And there's still a lot about us that we don't understand. So... Maybe we should stay here... Just for a little bit."

Just for a little bit. Just long enough to take advantage of the food that they would be hard pressed to get on their own. Just long enough to recover from having to fight for their lives and, more importantly, their freedom. Just long enough to understand what kind of monsters they've become, the monsters that will be unleashed out onto the world.

Just long enough.

In the end, it's an idea that all three of them agree to, for one reason or another, even if they aren't united in their end goal.

When they lived in the storage room, the Estraneo fed the more gruel than any actual food. 69 can remember eavesdropping on the scientists, and understanding it was both "nutritionally sufficient" and apparently part of their experiments because of course everything used to be, down in the labs. Up here in the mansion, however? There is far better food. When the future comes, when they find more food, they'll find things far better than rations, than can after can of food, of dried goods... But here in the present, it feels as though they're kings at a feast, and it is a struggle for them to not completely gorge themselves. Mostly, it's 49's struggle, as 69 doesn't feel they should be here for too long anyway, and 14 is just more than happy to eat as much as he can cram into his mouth.

At least there is a lot to do, in the Estraneo mansion and its connected labs. The first manner of business being, of course, that they can't just leave corpses scattered around. They get in the way when they're trying to walk, after all, and 69 finds himself more than once almost slipping or tripping on some bit of gore that had been left in its place during their dash to freedom. So they spend a lot of their second day of freedom dragging the corpses out of the way, with 69 and 49 having to work together while 14 seems to have more strength than perhaps even the scientists could have imagined. 69 takes no small measure of satisfaction in piling the corpses up in the same rooms that many children such as himself were forced to waste their days away in.

Such heavy lifting - literally - doesn't leave them with the energy to do much else for the rest of the day, which they take instead to lay around in the mansion, tentatively peeking outside as though their enemies or some unforeseen disaster will leap upon them at the first opportunity. Yet their energy is only out for so long; the scientists have put them through far worse experiments after all. So they instead poke around the mansion until they feel tired and it is nightfall, whereupon they find a new hiding place to curl up in for sleep.

Day Three of their freedom is... spent mostly between him and 49, down in the labs as they begin to go through and organize piles of paper one after the other. They understand so damn little, it's imperative that they catch up with everything the Estraneo never bothered to teach them. Such busywork, so much reading, none of that appeals to 14. He does his best to stay and help, finding some relief in constantly moving as he brings in enormous piles of paper to the cleanest area of the lab, but it doesn't suit him at all. Soon enough, he makes a poor case for being allowed to investigate more of the mansion above, and they both allow him this. Things will be easier, and quieter, without his constant fidgeting.

That just leaves the two of them, then, in the much more lavish underground office of a man rotting a few halls away. 69.... can't help but find some appreciation for it: the quiet sound of papers shuffling, the unobtrusive presence of another person, both of them so deeply focused on making any sort of sense of the many things the Estraneo wrote about. It reminds him faintly of when they were still prisoners, experiments, things that were once less than human. It reminds him of one of the other reasons why he decided to stay alongside these others, even as much as he wants to go.

Few others had managed to be tolerable throughout the experiments, or had proven to have any worth. That he has such a rare find.... He doesn't plan on ever letting go.

However, even with as much as they pour through the papers and notes left behind, it still takes weeks, months, before they make any headway. In that time, they all sort through the foods that the Estraneo hoarded in order to properly plan out their meals in the passing days. They make sure to properly deal with just where others can enter into the mansion, if it ever comes to that, and arrange various little traps and makeshift alarms. Eventually, 14 even manages to convince them to start exploring the outside grounds on the basis of "security or whatever". His true reasons are shallowly buried and easy to spot, but they go out anyway, because it's true... and it feels good to have grass beneath their bare feet and sunlight warming their skin.

Sometimes, they even take breaks, and do things that have nothing to do with the enormous amount of material in the labs. They go over dictionaries, thesauruses, maps, and think about the future that they still have to make a decision on.

"Whatever we decide to do," 49 murmurs one day as they're looking over the various places around the world on a world map that all three of them could lay on with how large it is, "we'll need names. Normal people have names, wherever you go."

"I wanna be Bruno!" 14 announces almost immediately, without any second guessing himself. Sometimes, 69 wonders how it feels to have such immediate easy confidence despite knowing absolutely knowing nothing about anything beyond shallow issues. "Bruno is a tough guy name!"

"We should all have more than one name," 69 suggests, getting up on his feet to go towards some of the old bookshelves. Not everything in the Estraneo mansion is strictly scientific, or political. There are plenty of other things as well, romance novels and mysteries and, in the case of what he's reaching for, a book on baby names around the world.

While he cannot nearly imagineit, once upon a time there were surely regular mafiosi living in the Estraneo, in a time before they were outcast from society at large instead of merely the underworld. Perhaps a mother was expecting, once. It could have even been one of theirs... But that is a thought so abstract, so distant, 69 barely even thinks much of it. It's there in his mind, and then it's gone, banished to nothing as he trots back to the rest of them.

Kneeling besides the other two, he places the book over the map and opens it. "We should have a name for at least every other continent and island," he says casually, flipping through the pages. "That way, we won't stand out, or at least it will be harder to find us." He pauses on the page starting the Italian names. "What do you think of Ansaldo for me?"

There's a meaning to it that he really likes, but, for all his preening, 14 just ends up laughing at him instead. "That sounds funny!" he says, grinning to him. "But I like Ardito as a name!"

"I would say that's basically the same kind of name, so it's just as funny."

That's how they spend their afternoon, and even a good chunk of their dinner: browsing various names, bickering over their choices. They've finally moved on from Italy and are looking over the Asian countries when 69 glances over to 49 with a sidelong smirk. "Some of the notes from the scientists say that the experiments on you were meant to awaken knowledge of past lives, or something about a cycle of living through many lives, right?" he asks. It's a concept that doesn't much match the more Christian knowledge he vaguely has, mostly when it comes to ideas of Heaven and Hell.... but it is an intriguing one, he has to admit. "Well, look at this." He points to a book on Japanese they dragged out, along with numerous other language books.

49 leans over, and blinks. "...Mukuro?"

Smirk widening, 69 nods and points to another bit of kanji. "And that's Rokudo. If you put them together, in the way Japanese is supposed to go, then you get 'six paths corpse'. That's what it would mean." 49 hasn't laughed much at all in the entire time they've been free, in contrast to 14 who never seems to get enough of it... but he laughs a little now, a brief puff of air that almost doesn't exist long enough to be heard. It feels like a strange sort of victory. "That's what your name for Japan should be."

Slumping against the table and with his chin resting in crossed arms, 49 considers it. "...Being called Rokudo Mukuro... seems like it's a little much. At least for just one person..."

"But it fits so well." Enough that he almost wishes he could take it for himself... But no. He wants something perfectly fitting him. "We've already decided that he's going to be 'Ken', after all." He smirks over to 14, who just grins widely in return. The blond had heard the name and agreed to it immediately, not inquiring about the meaning whatsoever. Well, it can be a joke for later. "What's so bad about it?"

Edited 2020-04-14 04:30 (UTC)

49's head lolls to the side. "It's... just a lot, I guess," he says, in that slow and quiet way of his that 69 has grown accustomed to. "Just a lot for one person..." And then he looks at him, this youth who has refused to take the bandage off of his eye ever since they found freedom, this child with such a deep eye that seems to shift from black to purple to all the shades inbetween. "...Do you want to share it?"

Years later, down the line, he'll suppose that it's the kind of logic that only a child would think of, that it's a common sense that only makes sense because they are children. But as a child in that moments, it makes all the sense in the world, and he grins. "You should still be Rokudo, because it fits," he decides, because he's good at deciding even if he's not good at figuring out what he's worth yet. "But I like Mukuro. So what's your first name for Japan?"

Already, 49 is flipping back through the book, until he finds something a little more early on. "Chikusa." A name meaning a thousand of different things. Together with his last name... He's all numbers. Faintly, 69 wonders if that means anything.

"So Chikusa Rokudo... Ken Joshima... and, me." Tapping his fingers along the table, he begins to browse through the book all over again. "Maybe Kakimoto? Or do you think I could go with just -moto? Mukuro Moto..." He laughs. "It matches." And it means the beginning, too. He likes that, in the end. This is, after all, the beginning.

14 takes on the name "Al", because it's short, and simple, and easier to remember. For the rest of them, for their purposes, it's a name well drenched in how common it is. No one will think twice on a boy named 'Al'. They will, perhaps, think twice on a boy who can change out his teeth for those of vicious beasts, whose body can warp and stretch into other things depending on the fangs he wears. The Estraneo referred to such changes, the things those fangs could do, as "channels" in their informal notes and observations. All of it is because that is what it means to be a child of Sun- a thing which makes plants grow and, in this case, can make a boy react to the genes of different animals until he has the strength of an enormous ape or the speed of a cheetah racing through the trees.

49 likes "Ciro", which he unimaginatively says is for the "young" meaning, but 69 far prefers the tentative connection it has to 'lord'. It is a plain and unassuming thing, and thus does not match well at all to the stores of ability and power that hide behind him. Then again, maybe there is something to that as well. No one would look at this quiet boy in glasses and think him able to call wolves to his side, or coax out vipers to coil lazily around his arms. No one would think him able to use combat skills he never had a chance to learn down in the labs.... or that he can twist reality around just as easily as his snakes.

69 takes on "Mercurio" himself, after reading through a few dusty books on Greek and Roman mythology. He likes the idea of such a clever trickster god, one whose domains spans across so much. A god of messages, of thieves, of underdogs and the dead - how can it not fit him? If he takes more pride in his name because he has so little else, because Experiment 69 with its Rain seemed to be amounting to so little, to him simply able to send off an aura of his Flame around him to make others exhausted... It's such a useless thing, and yet, no matter what, no matter how much of the Estraneo notes he digs through, he can find nothing else, nothing better.

If he is bitter, does he not have the right to be? All that suffering, all that pain, and for what? One night, when the others are asleep, he slips away from both of them and dips back down into the labs once more to start digging through the material they have available. The corpses in the storage room are starting to stink, which Al has been complaining about, but, tonight, Mercurio ignores all of that. His mind is focused purely on the notes he pours through, the tools that the Estraneo never got to use, and he does that week after week.

There is no way the others know, of course. He doesn't let them know. Al would simply not see what the problem is, too short sighted to understand and too emotional to properly care. And Ciro... He thinks of Ciro, with that deep eye, the bandage that is threatening to fall off with every passing day, and that seemingly never ending and tired patience. He thinks of Ciro, and feels as though he must hate him.

But Mercurio understands hate. He has hated so much, until he is certain that is has replaced his very blood. Whatever he feels for Ciro, it is not hate, not that poisonous bitter feeling he experienced every time he looked upon an adult as they dragged him to and fro from experiment to experiment. Perhaps that is for the better. If he hated Ciro, then he would want to kill him... and he is too powerful to do that carelessly, not because Mercurio thinks he would lose, but because Ciro could be the key to the revenge he feels the world so rightly deserves to have served to it.

Ciro might be stronger than him, might have been forcefully given more from the Estraneo than him, but Mercurio will not let that stop him. The scientists thought him weaker than them, too, but it was still his hands which brought them to death. He stubbornly reminds himself of that when he starts thinking of Ciro too much, and dives further down into trying to figure out how to make up the difference between them.

One night, as he's digging through notes- the sound of something clicking. He goes still, silent, slips out into the halls with a scalpel in his hand. They've left most of the doors open, so he isn't sure what draws his attention to the office that's the next door over. There is nothing about, no one else creeping but him, and he thinks surely he must be tired to start hearing things. Yet something catches his eye, some papers that have been left sticking out of place from their neat file, and he begins going through them.

A month later, and he's boasting about the chemical weaponry he's managed to create and how it reacts so neatly to the Rain aura he can constantly radiate, how it can affect other people but not him. Al very obviously doesn't understand any of it; that much is clear to see in just the way he blinks and stares. Yet he still cheers and encourages Mercurio nonetheless, something which, well, he can't say doesn't feel some measure of satisfying. Ciro, as always, is a lot harder to read... But there is something almost like relief in his tired smile, and he claps politely while telling Mercurio how impressive he is to have figured out the notes the Estraneo left behind.

Mercurio tries not to be too pleased in hearing such a compliment from Ciro. He's not vying for his favor, after all. He's trying to catch up to him. He will catch up to him.

"We're running out of food," Mercurio announces one day after he's gone over the tallies and tables that they've made up to keep track of what they have.

"The corpses in the storage room are smelling even worse," Ciro sighs, the words heaved out of him.

"There are men in the forest," Al announces, nose twitching as he tilts his head back and takes in a deep inhale from an open window.

Well, that obviously takes up all of their attention for the morning.

With Al's nose and Ciro's ability to hide themselves, it doesn't take much at all for them to quickly scout out who it is that's trying to outcreep them through the forest, and they all know what it means for those men to be wearing such black suits. If there is any luck, it's that they don't seem to know where it is, exactly, that they're going... but a simple bout of eavesdropping makes it clear who they are looking for. Unfortunately for them, all of the major players are rotting away in a basement.

Unfortunately for the three of them, they still count as Estraneo, and, no matter what else they could say, it's doubtful these mafia would listen. So they rush back to the mansion deep in the forest, knowing this area like the back of their hands, and they argue almost the entire way there. After all, they've been so busy learning things about themselves, and clearing out the Estraneo stash of food, that they've never actually come to an agreement on what they would do now that they're free.

Edited 2020-04-15 22:14 (UTC)

They're going to learn about them, the three lone survivors of the Estraneo family, the Estraneo experiment, no matter what happens. Mercurio is positive of it. They'll look at the gore in the lab, see the signs of living in the mansion, and those mafia in the forest will know. For the rest of their lives, they'll be hunted like animals, and is that any way to live? Is that a life worth living? The answer is yes, of course, because it's better to be alive than dead... and it's better to have their foot on the necks of their enemies before the same can be done to them.

Perhaps, in some ironic twist, Mercurio will later suppose he has the mafia to thank for their own downfall. It is the rush to escape that forces this decision for the three of them... And Ciro's quiet reluctance, his desire to hide from the world, is outmanned by Mercurio's desire to make the world pay and Al's own violent urges. All of that together forces him to agree... And, with that agreement, with what little remained of their food stores packed away in worn out bags that barely hold, they finally escape from the Estraneo lands.

Every single one of them used to live a normal life, once upon a time. They lived in towns, or cities, somewhere with buildings along a road and plenty of people. Yet those days are so long ago in their pasts... Mercurio can't remember much of his own former life. Neither can Al. Ciro might remember some things, but he doesn't seem confident in saying them, as if they're another life, as if they're someone else. Well, with what they've all gone through, that sort of reaction is only understandable.

Yet with how much he can dismiss Al and Ciro's reactions as being understandable, Mercurio loathes seeing it in himself. He loathes how the three of them pause in wide eyed surprise the first time they stumble upon a small town with its paved roads and warm looking homes. They huddle together, unused to such... inoffensive niceness, and hurry through the streets. Ciro had said, when they'd paused in their run away from the Estraneo mansion, that they should just break into an empty house at the first town they arrive at... but they all nearly forget it as they flicker unseen through the town streets, stunned and momentarily lost.

Perhaps it's good that Ciro is a lot more quiet and calm than the rest of them, another thing Mercurio feels he will have to improve on in the coming days. He gets over his shock the quickest, guides them away from the main town and towards a farm more on the outskirts where there are a couple of sheds, a barn, an orchard. It offers a lot of places for them to duck behind and hide in so that Ciro can ease up on the illusions and catch his own breath. It takes a little bit, but they even break into a barn, and climb up a ladder to a small space tucked out of the way.

Ever since they escaped, it feels like they've simply run to one period of adjusting to new things and to another. "It will be the last," Ciro tells them one night, after they've explored the town properly under the guise of his illusions. "This.... is how normal people live. People not in the mafia... So there can't be anywhere else to go."

"Unless it's a jungle," Al says, and bares his (plain, human) teeth in a broad grin. Mercurio rolls his eyes but smirks a little bit as well.

There are more important things to talk about than jungles, however, and he looks over Ciro carefully. "Still, if we really want to adjust, we should start walking by ourselves instead of just hiding away," he says. If he has to go everywhere accompanied by Ciro and his illusions, rely on Ciro, then he thinks he might lose it. "So we'll need to get new clothes, I think. And, Ciro, you'll need to take that thing off." That 'thing', of course, being the bandage over his right eye.

Carefully, uneasily, Ciro reaches up beneath his glasses to touch it. "...I guess so." It doesn't sound like something he's particularly happy to do, as much as Ciro ever sounds particularly happy about anything.

Wiggling against the wooden floorboards he's laying on, Al leans in closer and squints up at Ciro. "Is the whole eye gone?" he asks, deeply fascinated by the prospect, apparently. "Do we need to make an eyepatch?"

"No, I don't need an eyepatch.... And that would stand out too, anyway..." Slowly, Ciro removes his eyepatch, prying it away with just a slight twisting of his mouth as tape tries to stick to skin and the tiny little hairs on his eyebrow. There are scars there, around his eye, where skin was no doubt sliced through and pried open for the surgery that lead to the Estraneo's undoing. They're healing, but... it's taking a long time, and there's still slight bruising. What's most interesting, however.... is the eye that rests within it all.

Mercurio leans forward now, as well, and takes it all in: the glaring red that contrasts every thing Ciro is, the strange way his pupil has been warped, how it seems just a little different in complete design compared to his other eye. It isn't until much later that he realizes the way it actively changes, pupil twitching and warping into a different shape with every new ability. It is a quiet thing, a subtle thing if one isn't paying attention... but it marks Ciro just as inhuman as much as Al's fangs and fur do.

What an enviable thing.

With new (old, stolen) clothes, it's a lot easier for the three of them to begin exploring town, exploring society, exploring their limits. Mercurio soon learns how to smile at adults properly, how to make them think he is nothing more than a child. It's easy to do, honestly. He hates them, hates their guts for having such an idyllic life while children were tortured, were killed, not that far away from such a little town. Surely there were signs. Surely there was a police force. Blood on clothing, strangers making huge purposes - something. Occasionally, Mercurio wonders if he should slit their throats in their sleep. Surely it would be proper retribution, wouldn't it?

They're passing thoughts, most of the time. That sort of thing isn't really worth it, and would even bring more trouble than it would satisfaction. These ignorant adults, they won't even know the reason for their punishment... and it might draw the attention of the mafia they've just managed to slip away from. Revenge is only worth it if he can manage to get away with it.

Instead, he puts his efforts to better things. A lot of it has to do with figuring out just who they should strike first in his grand desire to take down the mafia. And it is grand, something he has forcefully put into perspective as he argues with Ciro over what he wants to do. With how so much of his desire relies on Ciro and Al's ability, well, he has to convince them of what he wants to do. Al is easy. Of course he is. But Ciro?

Ciro is the tough sell. And... maybe, just maybe, it's a good thing he's such a tough sell. He doesn't want Mercurio to leave him as much as Mercurio doesn't want to lose his abilities, so, instead of just outright refusing, he points out the flaws in things Mercurio wants to do. All of his plans are rash, and wrathful, and sometimes just plain impossible to do... but it's hard to see when his emotions burn so brightly like they do. Ciro quietly pulls him back to earth with a maturity that Mercurio always thought he had back down in the labs but which only seems to have become deeper with their freedom.

After all, Ciro will go along with no plan that threatens to get any of them killed recklessly. If they are going to kill the mafia - every rotten family, ever single member, from dons down to simple thugs - then they will kill them like they killed the Estraneo. This is a fight they will win through trickery and elements of surprise... with no one ever realizing just who or what they should be hunting down.

That means they will have to start small... and they will have to leave this town. It's been long enough anyway, Mercurio figures. They've been fortunate that they've escaped any notice or strange glances so far, but they can't stay for long, not without knowing more about who those mafia are and where their territory is. So one day, with some pilfered food that should keep well enough on the road, they slip away into the back of a truck, and simply.... leave the town. In some ways, it doesn't really matter where they're going, so long as it is away from this place. Away from where the Estraneo manner used to be. And closer, still, to the mafia they so despise and who they will one way eradicate.... One by one.

Sometimes, the most amusing way, the safest way, is to send one's enemies at each other's throats, and that's the case in such a little town that would be unremarkable if not for it being right on the border of two minor Family territories. That it is so small is usually a bonus, from what Mercurio has come to understand, because it gets looked over by the country at large, and the officials are far easier to bribe. That means exchanges of goods, or other illegal activities, can happen without too much happening to get in the way. Lately, however, it has become more of a bloodbath, with both parties lead to believe that the other has been making attacks towards them.

They'd have no idea the true perpetrators are a simple trio of mere children.

Edited 2020-04-17 04:46 (UTC)

This is not the first set of Families that they have destroyed, but, at this point, they've become quite good at it. That's a fact that Mercurio is proud of, even if his own abilities in regards to killing lag behind in terms of efficiency compared to the others. He doesn't dwell on it - not too much, not that it would get in the way, it doesn't matter - and instead becomes far better with this morbid trade they have picked up. Lying is easy, poisoning is easy, and, in the end, he spends most of his time learning how to make new and more interesting perfumes that his Rain can neutralize inside his own body.

Although if there is one thing he must complain about, it's the time it takes for plans like this to fully finish. The two Families are vicious, and bloody, and have sustained significant losses on both sides in their unwillingness to back down.... but it's still taking forever for one or the other to emerge victorious on this mountain of corpses that is piling up. In the empty and abandoned home the three of them have taken for the time being, Mercurio keeps his arms crossed and impatiently taps his fingers along one sleeve as he looks outside. "No sound of gunfire tonight, huh, Al?" he asks, a lot more indifferent than he actually feels.

If Mercurio hates waiting, then Al especially does as he paces from one end of the room to the other. It doesn't suit someone of the Sun, apparently, and he almost literally bounces off walls sometimes. "Nope," he answers immediately, like he does every time Mercurio or Ciro ask him a question. It's been at least a couple of years, now, since they left the Estraneo labs, and Al has devoted himself fully to his two companions. On one hand, it's satisfying... but on the other hand, Mercurio doesn't know how he feels about sharing. "Haven't heard nothin'."

Over in a corner where he's curled up with their few supplies, Ciro stirs just faintly from where he's absorbed in some book or another, and Mercurio waits patiently to see if anything comes of that. Sometimes, for all that he seems to be more adult than a child and has been for a very long time now, the effort of being an adult, a person at all, seems to be more than Ciro can bear. Tonight, they seem to be lucky, and Ciro sighs before quietly speaking up. "They probably won't do anything tonight... Not after how the rest of this week has been nonstop gun fights and bloodshed. Both Families are likely suffering too heavy losses.... They're recuperating. That could be dangerous..."

That last sentence is nothing more than a slight mutter, but, while he doesn't have the ears of a wolf or a lion, Mercurio has gained fairly sharp senses after living a life like he has. Turning away from the window, he rolls his body until he's resting his back against the wall. "Oh? Dangerous how?"

Ciro's mismatched gaze flickers up to Mercurio. "...As they recover, they might be doubting this particular course of action. They might reach out to one another.... or they might start snooping around on just how this all started. We've kept undetected for now, but..." But the world is unpredictable. Ciro doesn't finish the statement, it's simply that Mercurio knows him quite well. Knows the truths of this world quite well.

Well, that answers things for him well enough, and Mercurio pushes himself off of the wall straight towards the door. "We can't have that, can we?" he asks, smothering his own satisfaction at having an excuse. "I'll go and make sure that nothing happens to our plans." Before he steps out, he leans down, fishing out some vials of poison perfume from one of his personal bags.

While he's doing that, Al bounds over with excited anticipation. "Then I'll go too! We can blame any other attacks on the other Family again, right!? It's so boring, being in here!"

Even Ciro is putting his book to the side and rising up onto his feet... Although it's for an entirely different reason compared to his two companions. "We shouldn't test our luck," he mutters, looking exhausted that he has to do this already. "With all the recent attacks, the mafia will be all the more on edge.... It won't matter that we're children, either, probably... We should be careful..."

"You're the one who said this could be dangerous, didn't you?" Mercurio counters smoothly, casually. Ciro might be the one with the most power in their group, he knows that... But he's not the leaders of the group. Mercurio will steal every little bit of power that he can, in that case. "We shouldn't be careless and assume things are going so well." Hauling up his bag, he smirks back to Ciro. "So you don't have to worry. Any one of us could take on a group of mere mafia."

Saying such words makes it a lot more embarrassing when, a few hours later, his mouth ends up making an enemy of a small group of small time thugs who are made all the more dangerous simply because guns have a great deal more range than anything he could do on his own. And Mercurio is on his own, having long split up from Al in order to make sure that they covered the most ground possible in the little town. Now, he's left hiding in a little alleyway behind some refuse that has piled up, doing his best to be as silent as possible while he sorts through his vials in this bag. It's work that has to be done slowly, in order to not make any noise from glass clicking against glass... which is unfortunate, seeing that he can hear the mafia's loud and crude voices getting ever closer.

The world goes quiet. He doesn't notice, for a split second, and then, when he does, Mercurio goes completely still as his senses strain to make sense of this sudden change. There are no sounds of distant bug and animal life, no far off howling from dogs or wolves... And, most importantly, no sound from the mafia men that had been chasing him with their footsteps against cobblestone or crass swears and revolting language or the sound of their guns being loaded up with ammunition. Mercurio doesn't look back. He doesn't even stick his head out. All he does is squeeze his eyes shut, focusing everything he can on what his ears can hear.... and that's right when it all comes rushing back again.

Dogs barking somewhere across town, the rustle of the wind... and the sound of metal scraping against stone for a moment before a familiar and soft voice speaks up. "Mercurio... It's you, right?"

Ah. Lips drawn thin, Mercurio pushes himself up onto his feet and looks out towards the entrance of the alley. There, standing in the darkened street, is simply Ciro. Ciro, holding onto a long trident with a very particular prong, and with dead men on the road behind him. At such a distance, in the dark of night, Mercurio can't tell what shape his misshapen right pupil is in... but, considering what just happened, he can imagine.

With such a thing having happened... Mercurio swallows down most of his bitterness, although his smirk is more than sharp enough to make up for it. "So you couldn't stay still in the end either, could you?" he asks, faking ease and bravado. Like lying to adults with a simple blank smile, it's easier to do than one would think. "You know, I was in the middle of taking care of them myself." How would he have done that? It doesn't matter. Ciro doesn't need to know. All Ciro needs to do is think that Mercurio had a plan, that he knew what he was doing, that he wasn't in any danger whatsoever.

Does he actually believe that? It's so hard for Mercurio to tell from that blank gaze of his, even as he comes closer, but Ciro just nods in the end. Just a small gesture doesn't actually mean anything, honestly... but at least it's an agreement. "Regardless, I'd rather be more careful than not," he mutters, but Mercurio barely can hear him. Instead, he's taking in the group of men who are at their feet, these corpses, and immediately frowning.

Not every single body is a corpse, after all. There's still one breathing, and not nearly as bloody as the others are. "Someone as picky as you, missing someone?" he asks, resisting the urge to kick the man. It might wake him up, after all, although maybe nothing will after everything Ciro has done. "Al doesn't need a chew toy right now; I suppose I'll have to take care of it if you're being sloppy."

Before he can even open up the flap of his bag, Ciro is shaking his head and quietly interrupting him. "For that sort of thing.... It's unnecessary." Underneath his hand, the staff of his trident dissipates into mist, and he's left catching its pronged head before it drops to the ground. With that in hand, he kneels down by the sole remaining survivor and quietly pricks him so inconspicuously along his palm. It hardly even bleeds... but it does bleed.

That's enough to draw Mercurio's attention, quick and sharp. "Oh? So you're finally doing that, are you?" All Ciro does is nod, still exhausted before he's even done anything.

After all, it's not only illusions, combat skill, and a connection to animals that act as weapons in Ciro's arsenal. There's something else. A secret weapon that the Estraneo kept stored away, in a safe within the don's office. The ability of possession, an ability that only a certain few are capable of doing. Or rather, it's not an ability. All of the power comes from the connection between two different weapons: that of the trident Ciro carries with him everywhere, and a certain number of bullets that were created probably long before any of them were placed upon the operating table to be experimented on.

Yet this is the first time that Mercurio knows about where Ciro has actually deigned to use such weapons. Surely, it's almost a waste to never use them... but he's come to understand Ciro. He's the kind of slow and cautious person who refuses to use such high quality things unless he is absolutely sure of the occasion, and that it's the best use of them. Mercurio calls it a troublesome habit... but even he knows that it's thanks to such a habit that their food supplies manage to stretch out without them resorting to petty theft constantly.

So for a cautious person like that to finally use those bullets... "We could just dump their bodies outside of town," he says, because he knows that surely must have crossed the other boy's mind. It wouldn't take long for me to find Al, and surely he could have them tossed away like the refuse that they are."

"Ah... Yeah." Ciro tilts his head back, glancing to him. "But.... not for them. Just.... carry me back, if it comes to that." With that suggestion given, he begins to go through the belongings of those who are actually dead, checking wallets and just what kinds of guns there are. Mercurio doesn't ask why, just huffs before he strolls off. It was his idea, after all. This doesn't mean he's listening to any orders. It's simply the most sensible thing to do for the two of them.

Fortunately, it doesn't take long for him to find Al, who had come running at the sound of shouting that wouldn't have been noticeable for anyone else. By the time Mercurio guides him back to where Ciro is, the bespectacled boy has already found the exact kind of gun that will accept the Possession Bullets. After that... Well, after that, it's simple. A simple gunshot that doesn't leave behind a mark, the rise of a body with bright bruises against one eye that soon fade just like that shine of red within the iris.... And then the stolen body is gone while Al hauls up Ciro's body into his arms to retreat back to their temporary living space.

The news comes the next morning, spreading like wildfire throughout the entire town- and it's not a very large town, in the end. Everyone knew, in the end, just what sort of unsavory things were happening in their town.... They've just never spoken about it so boldly. But there's nothing stopping them now from talking about how one of the mafia decided to backstab his Family by siding with the rival Family whose turf has been fought over for some time now, how he gunned down so many of his former companions before he got too greedy and tried to take out the other Family's don as well. How the one remaining group was finally so small that some of the towns people finally saw fit to raise hell, to demand the police do their jobs, to do so many things.

Honestly, they should have done all of this a long time ago, but there's no time to lash out at them. With no doubt even greater attention due for such a bloodbath from places outside of the little town, well, of course the three of them need to leave. At least there will always be vehicles going in and out, especially those carrying groceries or produce from surrounding farms. As the three of them curl up among crates, Mercurio looks over to where Ciro is. In the absolute darkness of the truck, it's impossible to get a good read on him, and Al has already curled up to sleep through the journey. Honestly, that just makes this the perfect time to speak with him.

"Have you heard about something called the Vindice?" he asks, his voice echoing slightly in the truck. "Last night, while I was taking care of those men I'd run into, I overheard them talking about such a group. Apparently, if mafia Families get too out of control or break those rules they pretend to cherish so much, then the Vindice come and take them away. It sounds like nothing more than a scary story that should frighten children more than grown adults... But the Estraneo had some notes on them too, didn't they?"

In the darkness, there's a faint shuffling noise, before Ciro remembers that neither of them can see a nod in this darkness. "That's right... The guards of the underworld, who guard the infamous Vindice prison... There were a lot of notes that the Estraneo wrote in regards to them. Even though the most immediate threat was being found out and gunned down by the rest of the mafia... The Estraneo were almost even more concerned about those guards. Apparently they look weird..."

Mercurio scoffs under his breath, lips curling into a bitter smirk. "That's quite something for them to say, considering the monsters they were trying to create. Still, a 'weird look' doesn't tell us much... But the prison is supposed to be somewhere no one can escape from, isn't that right? I wonder if they don't just kill anyone they take into their custody instead..."

"Who knows..." Ciro sighs, shoes scuffing against the floor of the truck. "...You were asking for a reason, weren't you?"

"And I think you know why I'm asking." Adjusting his sitting position, Mercurio leans forward as though he can press forward his point more even though they are both a good distance away from each other. "We've erased more than a few mafia Families by now, and it's gone well so far. However, if we keep going this slowly, picking off the little Families as we work our way upwards, then that only makes it a much longer period of time for these Vindice to start paying attention to us and hunt us down." He swipes one hand through the air, just to get the excess energy out of him. "What we should do, if we want to use our resources to their best ability before we run out of them, and to shorten the length of time that these Vindice would come after us, is to go as high as we can go in targeting the mafia."

Mercurio doesn't need his sight to know that Ciro is frowning at him through the darkness. "....That's risky, Mercurio."

"Mmm, but even though the risk is higher, so is the reward." He folds his hands behind his head, confident in this. "If we're good enough, which we will be, then we can take over the strongest Family in all of the underworld, and everyone else after that... It will be simple child's play. All that we need to do... is get a hold of someone at the very top. The Estraneo, they named some Families in particular as the most powerful in Italy right now, didn't they?"

"Plus some other organizations outside of Europe... but I guess those don't matter." Well, that's certainly true enough, at least for their plans right now. Perhaps one day, when they're older, when they've taken out enough of these damned mafia, they can look to the places beyond Italy's borders. In that case, it will do them well to remember what the Estraneo wrote down about the organizations outside of Italy, something that they had only done because so many had refused to help them.

It says something about how much of an outcast the Estraneo were that even people not in Italy wanted nothing to do with them. Well, that makes sense. Whatever organization that the Estraneo would reach out to.... They'd certainly have relations with other mafia, and prioritize those far more, especially in order to not get caught in the crossfire. It's on some level common sense... and Mercurio isn't sure if he should be appreciative or bitter of that fact. If the Estraneo had any sort of backing... Who knows what they could have done. How much worse they could have been.

Or, who knows? Perhaps more children would have been able to survive through the experiments, with better and more plentiful equipment on hand for the Estraneo to use, and it would not be only three of them in this truck, riding off into another town away from one so thoroughly bloodsoaked. Maybe they could be more confident in this plan Mercurio is formulating. It's all just theoretical nonsense, a dream of a different world that doesn't affect any of them in the slightest.

Leaving aside such daydreams, Mercurio continues. "From what I understand, there are a few high profile and highly powerful Families that we could target. But I think there's no point in holding back, not with those that are so powerful. If we target one and make even the slightest mistake, then those in similar strength or even stronger might realize something is up... and they might strike out at us. With that in mind..." A wide smirk dominates his face. "Why don't we target that notorious Vongola Family?"

Edited 2020-04-18 22:28 (UTC)

He always takes a little bit of satisfaction when he can force Ciro to react strongly, and he can hear the other boy jolt in his place from the way there's a slight bang of his foot against the metal floor of the truck. Likely the driver won't even hear it, fortunately, or just attribute it to something on the road, or perhaps some small thing falling from the drive. "Picking off members of the Vongola... There are so many of them that it would be ages before we would make any dent.... not to mention that for such a protective and powerful Family like the Vongola, they would probably pay immediate attention to any of their members disappearing or dying violently. I'm not sure...."

"But there are other ways, aren't there?" Mercurio says. "If we use the Possession Bullet, then it will be easy to slip in amongst them and fulfill our revenge."

"...Something like.... going up the ranks, and marking each person with the trident, until we get to the position where we can cause a good size of damage, leaving them vulnerable..."

"That is one way to do it," Mercurio admits, although he frowns as he says it. Such a plan is typical of Ciro: cautious, slow, meant to give big benefits in the future instead of something much quicker. On one hand, it's kept them alive, along with his frankly stupid amount of abilities. On the other hand, having such abilities makes Mercurio feel as if they should be doing so much more, and sooner. "The other way is to skip all the small fry entirely, don't you agree? For example... what if we managed to gain control of the Vongola don first, before anyone else?"

For a moment, there's only silence, and Mercurio tries to imagine what sort of expression Ciro is giving him. In the darkness of the truck, it could really be anything... but he's fairly certain it's one of deadeyed exasperation, Ciro's specialty when Mercurio and Al tired him out far too much. "You know... That the Vongola don is one of the most protected men in the entire world, right... Moreso than the leaders of some countries. There's no way I would be able to get a mark on him, when he has a fortified headquarters hidden almost as well as the Estraneo hid theirs away... Along with one of the largest Families in the world to match their stupid amounts of wealth... And the notorious and picky Varia connected to them... Doesn't the don also have an inner circle that never leaves his side..."

Ciro's grumbling is soft and almost devoid of any emotion, but that doesn't take away from how clearly annoyed and tired he is. Mercurio's laughter at him probably doesn't help. "Are you upset at me for coming up with such an idea?" he asks playfully.

He already knows the answer before Ciro verbalizes it, starting with a slow and soft exhale that's barely heard over the sound of tires rumbling against road. "Being upset sounds like way too much trouble..." The reply makes Mercurio laugh. He's not sure if it's because Ciro has somehow become more mature with everything they've been through, or he's just the kind of person who always seems to have a low blood pressure. "But I'm saying it doesn't seem like something possible..."

"Well, you're right in all of those respects," Mercurio admits easily. "However, there is something else to keep in mind. For enormous and old Families like those... They tend to pass down their leadership through bloodline, don't they?" The Estraneo certainly didn't seem to keep such a thing in mind, with how easily they had turned on their own children, the future generation of the Family... But then, there are always outliers in any given culture or group. "Instead of going after the current don, why don't we just go after his children? Any one of them will be a candidate for succession of the Vongola Family. If we can get just one, at the very least, then all we have to do is take care of the others until the one you've possessed is the one that will inherit. That's much easier, don't you think?"

A few moments of silence stretches out between the two of them, and Mercurio lets Ciro think over it for as long as he likes. It's a good idea for what they're aiming for, he knows it is. All that he needs to do now is convince Ciro of how good an idea it is... and he thinks this is a pretty solid argument. They really will be tempting fate the longer they try to pull off this kind of thing with more Families in the mafia, so a big decisive blow that will put them in a good position.... That's something that they do in fact need. Still, it never hurts to add in a little extra sugar, so he cheekily adds, "Besides, with even the minimal amount of funds that a son of the Vongola Family would likely receive, just think about how much easier it would be to funnel a little bit of money to us instead of you constantly having to use your illusions as spare cash."

Another soft sigh. "....We're going to have a lot of work to do.... Once this truck stops at its destination...."

There really is a lot of work to do, and not one of them can slack. That means, for the time being, that they must be a little more focused towards gathering information about the Vongola instead of trying to murder any one of the many mafia Families that still exist within Italy... but it is effort well spent. Ciro even takes a surprisingly proactive approach one day, to Mercurio's surprise. No, maybe calling it proactive would be an understatement. Rather, it's risky in a way that the ever cautious Ciro normally avoids so much.

"I'm adopted," he tells them one day, rather bluntly and matter of factly. "I'll try and get you two in as well."

Mercurio and Al pause, both of them not entirely sure that they've just heard what they think they've heard. After all, it's been a given this entire time that adults can never be trusted, and should be viewed as nothing more than enemies or things to use and erase. Even if Ciro wanted nothing more to do with the mafia way back in the beginning, that didn't mean he wanted anything to do with adults, either, and that's a position that hasn't changed. What he wanted was for them to pull away from society all together. So for this...

"Wait, are you abandoning us?!" Al exclaims, lunging forward over the meal they've gathered together in a simple little hotel in the largest city they've been in yet. Which isn't saying much, really. "Wait, no, you said you'd get us too.... Ugh!" Reaching up with both hands, he ruffles his hair in nothing less than sheer annoyance. "What the hell!!!!"

Well, it's not as if Mercurio can't understand his annoyance and frustration.... He's feeling no small end of it himself, and tries to just smile patiently even though he is well aware of his own twitching eyebrow. "Now this is quite an interesting idea you've decided to go ahead with all on your own, Ciro. I wasn't aware that we would ever be so strapped for funds or a roof over our heads that you would want to be taken in by some untrustworthy strangers."

Since neither he nor Al are eating at the moment, Ciro apparently takes this as a sign to start helping himself even more to the food they stole from down in the hotel kitchens. "It's not like I'm worried about that..." Finishing his latest bite, he blinks slowly at Mercurio and Al. "But since you two want to go after the Vongola so much... It would be far easier to do it with such information right on hand, wouldn't it?"

Mercurio blinks, not understanding... but only for a split second. Soon enough, and he's fighting his own instinct to widen his eyes. Instead, he leans back and, after a moment of reigning in his self control, he coolly raises an eyebrow. "Aaaah~. So it's not a 'family' that you went to go get adopted by, but a Family?" he drawls, tilting his head to the side even as his heart beats wildly in his chest. It's such a risky and unexpected manuever... He sort of hates that, this time, it's Ciro who's one-upped him in terms of surprises. "You know, if it's a worthless little Family, we might as well continue looking into matters ourselves, right?"

Ciro's gaze drifts back to their food a bit, even as Al perks up and finally rejoins the conversation. "Oh- is this the kind of thing where we're just going to kill them in the end?" he asks, seeming a lot more satisfied with the idea if that's what's waiting for them at the end.

"Mm. Well... Even if it's Al, it would be a hard time killing them..." Taking some food to stick in his mouth, Ciro draws his knees up to his chest and loosely wraps his arms around them with his fingers linked. "The Family that has control of this territory also has someone on their payroll that's notable.... You know, they call him the strongest man in all of Northern Italy."

Oh ho. Mercurio's eyes light up. "So they have Lancia, the one who wields such a fearsome iron ball?" He's heard of such a man, of course. After so much time chasing after mafia and spilling their blood, well, one naturally hears things. It seems that, no matter where they are, some rumors will always be prevalent. Some are like the Varia, terrifyingly powerful assassins who can reach a target no matter who they are or where they try to hide. In this case.... Well. The strongest man in Northern Italy isn't a title that's tossed around so freely by other people. When others start to pass along rumors like that... It's often for good reasons.

It's not a bad idea, Ciro's plan, when it's put into that kind of light. Just one incredibly strong person isn't enough to elevate a Family to greatness. The mafia are a group of people with blood spilled so much that it has permanently stained the skin of every single person who deigns to join such things. Yet despite the fact that they're a group with so much blood that it's gone up to their eyeballs, outright and upfront violence isn't all they do. That's not something that can sustain an organization. They need a good location, goods that they can traffic, people to extort, and the ability to handle so much money. A physically powerful person in a small and pathetic Family won't be anything special in the end. But with a suitable and successful enough Family...

Mercurio gets to see it for himself one day, when Ciro finally seems to manage the Family don that he's not the only "talented" youth around. That's not something surprising to hear, either. Of course a mafia Family wouldn't just take in a child for free. There has to be a give and take. For Ciro, apparently his stunning intelligence and ability to handle numbers was something that the don found to be a worthwhile investment. With Al, it's of course his absolutely brute strength and almost endless energy. As for Mercurio himself.... Well, even though they had spent many years deep within the Estraneo labs, he's pleased to say that they've all now spent more than a few years in return in the rest of the world. While Al and Ciro aren't particularly experts at it, he's more than pleased to say that he can be charming enough for just some pathetic old mafia. At least, you know. For a few minutes, if nothing else.

Good luck is on their side as well, as much as Mercurio is loathe to rely on such a thing when he would rather his own skill be sufficient. A time of relative peace has come over this particular mafia territory, with exchanges going smoothly and no one yet having thought to try and claim a piece of the land for themselves. Likely, they're all converging on the voids that have been left in other places.... Those areas in which Families have since died horrible deaths and are now perfectly available for anyone who thinks they can claim them. Certainly security has been subtly enforced around the area... but there's no reason for such a well off and powerful Family to be worried about a few kids, is there?

So that means, for such promising youths, the don has allowed Lancia to watch over the three of them, occasionally. Particularly he has a care for Al, which is of no surprise, considering that the two of them will roughly be in the same area in regards to the physical front line of the Family. Yet even if they aren't meant to handle such matters themselves - at least when it comes to the plans the Family has made - Lancia still insists on helping to train them on how to use guns, or simple matters of self defense.

Mercurio is surprised to find that he doesn't mind Lancia, not only compared to other adults or mafia, but anyone else in the Family as well. He clearly still sees them as only children, which isn't particularly surprising, but he doesn't treat them as children. Instead, he just makes suggestions, or listens to their own. It makes him far more tolerable than any other adult Mercurio has ever had to deal with, including simple cashiers that he's only seen for a few seconds as they've bought something for the road. Even Al doesn't seem to mind him, although he mostly seems to ignore the man most of the time.

And additionally.... He's actually useful in more than a few ways, and not just because of how he's teaching them to properly defend themselves. It's an unexpected boon Mercurio isn't expecting one day, when Lancia returns from a job that the don sent him out on. Ciro and Al are off elsewhere, playing along with this fake Family even as they gather intel on the state of the mafia from members within it. That means Mercurio has the man all to himself for physical training. As they're taking a break, Mercurio's muscles pleasantly sore, Lancia heaves out a huge sigh before looking over to him. "I wonder if one day I should ask the boss about figuring out how to teach you three a way to break through illusions..."

His ears couldn't perk up any faster than if they were a cat's. "You can break through illusions?" he asks, unable to hold back on his own fascination. Any other day, and he would be kicking himself for something like that.

Fortunately, with Lancia, that sort of interest and eagerness to learn is exactly what he's looking for. Perhaps it's the sign of a normal child, or something approximate to it, to be so interested in the idea of illusions or getting better. Mercurio doesn't exactly know, considering that he's rarely paid attention to children besides on occasion when trying to polish up his own charm. "That's right," Lancia says, nodding to him. "What do you know about illusions, Mercurio?"

What a question, and one to handle carefully. Truthfully, he knows quite a bit and yet not much at all when it comes to things like that. Ciro can do frankly unbelievable things with his illusions, which Mercurio knows is obviously the point, and he's become all the more skilled at using them ever since that day long ago when all he did was use it to hide the three of them under a cover of invisibility. Certainly, in a lot of ways, Mercurio thinks they're rather... plain compared to what he, personally, would use with such a power.... But it's certainly a sort of skill regardless. Yet how much of that can he really say is how regular illusions act, and how much of that is because of Ciro's particular circumstances?

Fortunately, he doesn't have to think too much deeply on that... at least right now. After all, "truth" isn't anywhere near to what they're including in this working relationship with this Family. So Mercurio tilts his head to the side, and gives the answer he imagines any dumb and oblivious child would give to such a question. "Isn't it a sort of magic?" he asks.

"I guess a lot of people think of it that way... But, you know, most of them are just third rate hacks." That sort of thing is another reason Mercurio likes Lancia out of all the adults, and hearing that sort of thing said so plainly makes him snort in amusement. Apparently Lancia is pleased about that, smiling a little bit himself before he keeps going on. "If you watch television some more, or listen to local gossip in some of the bigger cities, you'll actually probably come across some of those types, honestly."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Stuff like sham television priests, or people who say they can see the dead.... You know, that shit? Not all of them, but at least a few are just people who are illusionists, and using that to boost whatever thing they're trying to peddle off to folks." Pausing, he takes a gulp from a bottle of water. "But in the mafia, for people who realize they make good illusionists... Well, then it can become a real problem. I'm glad that I've only dealt with them a couple of times since I've started working as a bodyguard, and they're usually not that impressive. Then again, I guess for an impressive illusionist, they have bigger fish to fry than this sort of Family with no huge ambitions."

Mercurio knows he should probably take what he can get out of this break while he still can, and guzzle down water from his own bottle as well. Still, this particular conversation has all of his attention, and he leans in closer. "If they're really good when they're in the mafia... Then that means that they can make you experience things that aren't actually happening, right?"

Another nod, although Lancia uncurls one finger from around his bottle to point over at Mercurio. "But only if you let them."

"What?"

"When it comes to illusionists... The trick is that all their power comes from people believing in and falling for their tricks. The illusions they use on people only work if those same people believe in them, even a little bit. Just a moment of doubt and-" Lancia snaps his fingers with his other hand. "You're done for. Once you're left believing in an illusion, there's no way for you to get out of it, unless you're lucky and either you kill the illusionist by accident or you have a companion at your side who picks up the slack."

"That sounds like it only works if you know the other person is an illusionist."

"Yeah. That's why it's a real pain." Lancia's exhale is nearly a whistle, with how sharply he lets it out between his teeth. "It's why guys like you are going to be so important when you grow up, Mercurio. We need smart guys like Ciro, and then clever guys like you, so that we can figure out all about any rival Families that try to invade the Family's territory. Getting information like if someone has an illusionist on payroll... That's important. Got it?"

Edited 2020-04-21 07:18 (UTC)

He gets it. The only real trouble is that he doesn't quite understand on if what he's doing is working. All he can do is keep not believing.... Well. Anything, perhaps. It feels as though it comes easier to him than he would have initially thought. This material world of theirs is already so meaningless to start with, isn't it? Lives can come and go in the blink of an eye, with no real impact done on the world no matter what that person might think. All the things that humans fight over is often nothing more than just a fake made up thing in the end, with money being the worst culprit of them all. When viewed in that lens.... Isn't most of the world an illusion? Isn't most of the world, and all its people, fake and ethereal?

Mercurio tries to remember that every single day, of every single hour. It feels like such a fundamental truth to the world, one that the vast majority are too foolish to realize. That Lancia was able to give him just a piece of the puzzle to firmly nail down this belief... Well, perhaps that makes him even less of a worthless adult than most others, and Mercurio supposes that means he has some value in existence. Yet for as much as he tries hard... It feels even more difficult to stick to this belief, or lack thereof.

Why is it so hard? Mercurio thinks on the problem for ages... and the problem always seems to be one person in particular. Funnily enough, it is the person who he is trying so hard to quietly fight against, and to drag himself up to be on- no, to be recognized on his level. What is it about him that is so annoying? That manages to stick in his mind like a thorn to thumb? He wonders, and wonders, and one day all that wondering just leaves him out in the rain.

....Literally out in the rain, he means, because in the midst of having stepped out to get away from being around that infuriating hole of filth, that den of mafia, he ended up not paying much attention to the weather and how it was changing. It's what has left him sitting on a curb, cheek in hand, as he stares down at the now empty street with a frown on his face. Honestly, the rain isn't that bad, if he were ever to tell the truth. More than once has he ventured out into it all on his own when storms have rolled over the skies of Italy, simply to enjoy the simple sensation of it falling onto his skin and sinking into his clothing.

Is it because he's a child with a Rain Flame in his blood that he feels this way? That he feels so at home when there is no one else out on the streets and the rain creates a quiet melody with no rhythm, no song, just one simple note over and over again? Who knows. The world is mysterious, and the soul peculiar. What matters most is that, in those cases, he chooses to go out in the rain with just himself as company.

Right now, well, it caught him unawares, but there's hardly any point to caring about it now. He could find shelter, sure, but all of the places he can see are far too shallow to give him much cover in the first place. This isn't near the more commercial places, where some stores and restaurants might put up with him especially once they recognize he belongs to a Family. So all he does is sit there, sighing before he leans back with his palms pressed against the uneven surface of cracked concrete. He's already wet; he may as well stay wet until the rain clears. Once everything is tolerable enough, he'll go back, take a warm bath and see if he can't hide what happened from Ciro or Lancia because he could really be spared all the fussing.

At least, that's his plan up until he notices a shadow looming up along the pavement to the side of him. For anything else, Mercurio would be on edge immediately and hiding it. He'd wonder if it was just the average pitiful adult, or some stranger, or one of the fools that reside in the Family. But this is a shadow he's grown familiar with for a great many years now, a shadow that he would recognize immediately no matter the time or place. Immediately, his mind clicks into a certain sort of existence, even as his eyes close and a smirk rolls onto his lips.

"You're quite a ways from the hideout, you know. Running errands?" He'd like to say a lot worse, honestly, but he's out in public and he can't afford being too disparaging where the Family might eventually catch wind of it. When they're all in private, maybe, he'll let loose his true feelings.

"Ciro wanted to go see something in the city!" answers a familiar voice that is definitely not Ciro, and Mercurio opens his eyes to note the appearance of what seems to be another shadow on the ground besides what he's deduced looks like Ciro's own. Well, there's only one person around who he knows is that short and with hair that messy. "Hey, boss, you're soaked! How come you're not dry?"

Rolling his head back, Mercurio lets his eyes rake over what his gaze finds. There is Ciro, obviously, the kind of person who doesn't like to use his illusions to particularly stand out in any way whatsoever. The way he presents himself even now is plain, with the same old clothing that he tends to wear all the time and apparently holding a large umbrella over his head using both hands. Al seems to be with him, tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth like usual and gaze wide eyed in his curiosity. Both of them look dry, save for the splashes of water along their boots and the very bottom hems of their pants. On a surface level, they both look like very ordinary children.

It really is such a large umbrella that it seems as though it should cover all three of them. Yet even with it held over his head, Mercurio can still feel raindrops falling into his hair and hitting his skin through clothing that has become too thin from staying outside for so long that it no longer offers much protection against water. It's something that Mercurio should be pleased about, even as Al blinks and cocks his head to the side without understanding.

Yet for some reason... All he can feel is annoyed with the state of things, and that the reasoning for his own feelings isn't clear only serves to make him all the more annoyed. At least, unlike Al, Ciro seems to understand perfectly just what's happening. All he does is look between the umbrella and down to Mercurio, unsurprised in many ways. Faintly, Mercurio wonders if he always knew that this is how illusions worked, with that strange maturity and quiet knowledge hidden away in him. Or maybe this is knowledge that is new to him as well, something that he's only been able to learn while they've traveled throughout Italy killing their enemies or gaining knowledge by listening to an adult like Lancia.

Ciro doesn't give an answer either way, although it's not like Mercurio ever asked a question. Instead, he tilts his head towards the end of the street. "...We're going home. Do you want to come with us?"

Edited 2020-04-22 23:42 (UTC)

storm day - flameswap au - chikusa/mukuro

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skip

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sky day - old gods - chikusa/chrome

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sun day - isekai au - chikusa/everyone

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Lightning Day - curses - chikusa/gokudera

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rain day - platonic cuddling - chikusa/ken

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cloud day - ten years later - chikusa/yamamoto

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mist day - historical au - chikusa/hibari

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earth day - accidentally saving the day - chikusa/ryohei

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