![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
KHRween 2021: Trick or Treat
"I can speak to insects," Reborn informs them one day, completely casually, and Viper isn't entirely sure they've hated anyone more.
Alright, that's a lie. They've definitely hated a lot of people more - cops from when they were a teenager and long before they became a professional criminal, and stingy employers who tried to get away with paying them less than what they were worth, and obviously Fon. Alway Fon. But sometimes, Reborn really tests everything in their self control to not just illusion him blind and then slug him in the face.
He's tall, but they can float. It wouldn't be that hard.
"If you're going to lie, you could at least make it a believable one," they say coolly, refusing to give the troll the satisfaction of annoying them. Or, at least, knowing that he's annoyed them. "Or should I give you points for creativity? I suppose some do find it more enjoyable to spin an amusing story than come off as serious."
Right now, it's only the two of them in this mysterious little European cabin, tucked away from the rest of the world in its nest of forests and mountains. The rest of the group they're working with - the donna Luce, that insufferable scientist Verde, all of them - they're still away on various other jobs that their employer has pulled together for them. Viper wouldn't mind that, most of the time, because it's a comfortable enough place. The cabin is well insulated, with small ovens having been placed in each of their rooms that are there purely for the providing of warmth. Down on the main floor, a massive fireplace does more than its fair share in warming up the enormous den that has been built there.
All that ruins it, as they sit curled up on the couch with a notebook clutched in one hand and a pen in the other, would be Reborn lurking around in that same stupid black suit that he seems to love so much, and which he never changes out of, unless it's into an even more stupid costume of some sort.
When they first met him, they thought his disposition towards costumes was sensible, since it first showed up when he was on a mission with them. Viper felt it explained a lot, at the time, and quietly approved of it as someone who'd also disguised themself in various ways throughout the years. It was helpful, at the time. Now, however, with Reborn constantly popping up with whatever hairbrained costume that even VAGUELY fits the situation - or doesn't at all! - they've grown rather sick of it.
There's no costume tonight. Just Reborn, clad in black, smirking at them in some distant amusement. One day, they'd love to see him eat shit and fail at something, but it doesn't seem something his existence is inclined to. One day... "I'm not lying," he says, which Viper doubts. "I use them for spying."
In their head, Viper calls bullshit. Maybe if Reborn possessed a sky flame, they'd be at least a little willing to look into it more. A sky flame means harmony, and so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch for someone possessing that flame to just... decide they want to understand bugs, for whatever reason. Spying, apparently. But they've never heard of the sun flame being used like this... So all they say is, "And you thought bugs were the best way to spy on people."
"Not all of us can make ourselves go invisible and snoop in on people's private lives that way," Reborn points out with a rather plain tone. At least that's the one good thing about the man - he's just as much of a criminal as they are. There's no judgment for whatever they opt to do with their illusions.
Not that it makes his point any better, considering that Viper still thinks it's an absolutely asinine way of doing things. Their lips jerk into a small little frown, and they resist the urge to turn their head away. Not only would it make them look childish, but they don't want to take an eye off of whatever Reborn is doing at any given time. He's too good a hitman for them to feel comfortable with him just lounging about in close proximity to them like this, even if there is a contract they all had to sign saying they'd not interfere with one another. "Viper" is a name that has made itself quite a solid hold in the underworld; no doubt a great many people would like to see them be rid of.
Still, the only answer they can offer up to his point is a short and blunt little scoff. "So you use bugs," they say, such a disgusting thought that they can't help but come back to it again and again.
Reborn rolls his shoulders in an all too smooth shrug, and something about that little gesture makes them bristle. The hitman always comes off as detached and in control, without fail, but something about this in particular makes them feel as though he's planning something. They just don't know exactly what it is. That's a problem, with a man as prone to kicking Skull out of his way as he is to saying something to rile up the entire group. "I use bugs," he agrees, and Viper almost thinks that he'll leave it at that. Instead, after a beat of silence which is only filled by the gentle crackle of the fireplace, he says, "Care for some proof?"
Slowly, Viper narrows their eyes. On one hand, this sounds like just another trick. Something to make fun of them, and work them up - oh, ha ha, Viper the famed illusionist fell for the stupidest lie in the world.
Except, there lies the problem: this is exactly the kind of truth-in-bullshit stunt that Reborn would pull. No doubt he would get amusement from making them fall for some stupid lie, yes, but the opposite would no doubt bring him just as much pleasure. Offering someone the truth, all the answers, right there on a silver platter... Only for them to turn their nose up at it, because they don't know any better.
There's a Greek myth about that exact kind of thing - a myth telling why powerful gods got the most shit part of the sacrificial animal while the humans gorged themselves on the best of it. It was all a simple matter of presentation, of appearance, and Viper had appreciated the myth as an illusionist. They can see a mirror of it here, as they narrow their eyes slowly over at Reborn, so confident and cool. Is this the sort of situation where they'd go for the superficially appealing choice, only for it to bite them later?
Dammit. They're kind of annoyed that they have to think this hard about it. Normally it's not advisable to take one's cake and eat it too, but it's the only thing they can think of to avoid two annoying circumstances. "It isn't as though I can stop you from doing whatever you like, World's Greatest Hitman," they say, trying to aim for dismissive.
Reborn tilts his head back every so slightly, and tips back the brim of his hat just a smidgen. He's watching them a little too intently, in Viper's opinion. "I was under the impression you were the World's Greatest Illusionist," he says, and, oh, that's it.
Pride flaring to life like a stray match in a gasoline factory, Viper snaps one foot down onto the floor. The sound of their boot heel doesn't carry the snap that they would like it to, but the impact of it against the rug is satisfying in its own right. "I'm nothing less," they say, tone dropping into something ice cold. This is stupid. They know it's stupid. This is exactly like Fon all over again - and they avoid Fon as though he were carrying the black plague, tough as that is to do in such a shared space like this. Why did there have to be two ultra annoying people in this work group? "Fine - let's see this little farce of yours." No matter what he's attempting to pull, they'll make it through without a single bit of trouble or losing face. They're an illusionist; faking it is what they live for.
It doesn't take very long for the two of them to get to where Reborn feels they apparently need to be, and it's not very far either. This little mansion of a cabin, deep into the woods as it is, has its own rather large porch area. More than once, their ragtag group of professionals has sat here during warmer weather, and discussed the latest missions that their mysterious employer has lined up for them in order to decide who would go do what.
The weather is growing more chill, however, as autumn begins to stretch itself through the air and over their bodies. As they step outside into the noon air, Viper resists the urge to cross their arms and shiver. They've faced worse than this... So they simply hunch their shoulders up, and focus hard on the warmth that their robe and cloak gives them.
Reborn, of course, doesn't show a single bit of worry about the temperature outside. Something thanks to the many layers he wears, or something further down on the list of bullshit he's capable of? Who knows. Probably his Sun flame is at least partially to blame - one of the flames most likely to act like a real and natural flame. All he does is make his way over to the seats that still lies out here, and falls into it with one smooth motion. It's kind of insufferable how easy he and Fon make even the smallest of physical movements look so easy.
"We haven't entered winter yet," he says, like this is just an average conversation about the weather. Viper, needless to say, is wary about it, because nothing is ever average with Reborn. They're proven right when he keeps running his mouth, and says, "That means we'll be able to still communicate with my fall minions. If it were winter, well, I prefer to use larvae in situations such as those."
They hate him. They fucking hate him. Viper can't stop their upper lip from shuddering up into a curl of distaste, but they do at least try to take in a deep breath through their nose. He's messing with them. That's all this is. They won't fall for the bait so easily, they really won't.
It kind of pisses them off that they suspect they might. The best thing to do in the face of such a revelation is to barrel right past it, and prove such thoughts wrong. "You're revolting," they say bluntly, because they feel that it's something Reborn needs to be reminded of more often than not. He gets away with far too much, honestly, with the respect he gains from people like Lal Mirch and the fondness of those such as Luce.
Unfortunately, the truth does nothing against those with no shame, because Reborn just tilts his head back to look at them with detached amusement. "They're simply bugs," he comments idly, which is not necessarily wrong.
There's really no point in getting into a giant argument about the difference between the average bug and larvae, at least to most people who aren't weirdos like Reborn, so Viper opts to just skip past addressing that. "So larvae are allegedly for winter," they say instead, using the most disinterested drawl they can muster up. "Do you use worms for fall, then?"
"Worms aren't arthropods," Reborn says, because that is clearly the most important part of this conversation. "However, for some mysterious reason, I have a feeling you won't believe me no matter what answer I give you from my own mouth. Wait a while and see."
What a nonsense cop out of an answer. Still, Viper supposes they're committed, now. If nothing shows up, they'll be able to give him shit for it. If something does show up.... Well, they'll figure their response out when it happens, they suppose. For now, they simply tug their clothing into proper place as they settle down onto one of the chairs, and let their hands fold neatly out of site on their lap, hidden away by folds of cloth.
While they'd hate to admit such a thing out loud... This isn't such a bad way to pass the time, at least while they're stuck out here on this job that could go on for who knows how long. For as long as this mysterious drama scum Checkerface decides to keep paying them, they suppose. A lot of their past jobs have required them to stay a lot in big cities, or at least moderately sized towns, depending on what the matter was. That's certainly convenient in a lot of ways, of course...
And yet for their own personal and private matters, they've honestly found they prefer being away from all of that. They know any safety felt from such things is just as much of an illusion as the very ones they craft in their line of work. Of course. They aren't so ignorant to fall for such a simple trap. It's just... That is how it feels, when they hide away in their own private home, away from any prying eyes as they work tirelessly on their flame research and go over the different job offers that they've received through proxy addresses and P.O. boxes.
In that respect, this place here in the European middle of nowhere is absolutely perfect. Nothing but trees, in an array of brilliant orange, stretch out before them as overgrown grass sways gently in the occasional breeze.
Their gaze flicks to the side again, landing on where Reborn is sitting. While they'd never admit it of their own volition, using their voice and mouth, the company isn't that bad either. Reborn might be annoying as hell for his twisted sense of humor, and how it occasionally feels as though it's impossible to get back at him, but he's useful and clever in a lot of ways. Unlike people such as Fon or Skull, he has an incredible amount of knowledge when it comes to the underworld - mainly the Italian mafia, of course, but also things he's picked up from around the world as he's gone on different jobs. The more information one has, after all, the easier their job is, and Reborn is the kind of perfectionist freak who doesn't settle for anything less than perfect.
Not only that, but, under an assumed identity - or three, or half a dozen - he's apparently somehow made the time for a ridiculous amount of PHDs. On one hand, it still kind of pisses Viper off, because a hitman shouldn't be so skilled (Eggheads like Verde are another matter entirely.) On the other hand... It's been satisfying, to have a conversation about the things they've learned - neurology, flames - with someone who actually gets it.
Viper doesn't really have a lot of chances to socialize - not since they were a teenager living in New York City, when they were trying out how it felt to be a girl for the first time, and they didn't make it a point to disappear off the map. It's... pleasant, to indulge in it again after so long.
Also, if they have to utter the utmost honesty to themself, he's not bad on the eyes either.
Which, really? That's just one more reason to be infuriated with him. Viper understood from a young age that there were plenty of attractive people in the underworld, but for some reason all of them seem to accumulate in the criminal underworld. At least Lal Mirch breaks the mold by being from military.
Viper takes in a deep breath, and lets it out through the air just to watch it come out in a soft warm haze. The cold is a huge problem, or else they'd spend more time reading and researching out here on the porch. It was fine in the spring and summer, when they could wrap themself in an illusion to work in peace with perfectly warm air, but this is really too much. Reborn and his stupid coffee will probably be here all the way until it snows, if they know him and his damn addiction-
There's a shadow in the trees.
Viper doesn't react, not overtly and not right away. Instead, they only narrow their eyes, and try to focus all the harder on making out details. They would have sensed it if it were another illusionist, they know that for a fact, so it has to be something else. But what?
The answer soon becomes apparent, along with the humming of many tiny wings, and Viper is left to stare in complete disbelief as a small hoard of dragonflies comes buzzing for the air, past the supports of the porch, and right for Reborn. The hitman doesn't even so much as stir. All he does is sit there, content as can be, as the dragonflies land all over him: along his hat, daintily perched on the lapels of his suit, and a good handful right on his face.
"What the hell," Viper says, the words slipping out before they can stop themself.
Reborn doesn't smile. That doesn't stop him from somehow just producing an impenetrable air of insufferable smugness as he sits there with dragonflies crawling all along his face. "It's lestes sponsa," he says, because that is clearly the most important information to impart here. "Also known as emerald damselflies. It took some convincing to get them around here, but there is a pond nearby, and they are the most widespread throughout all of Europe."
This is information to keep in mind for later, maybe - Viper isn't sure how they'll incorporate this into their own research, but there's no knowledge that's truly worthless. However, later isn't now, and, right now, they have much different priorities.
Granted, one of those priorities is repeating the phrase "what the hell" over and over again in their head. However, another priority entails watching Reborn with even more razor focus than they already give the man, and Viper narrows their eyes a little bit. There has to be a trick here that they're just not getting, something Reborn is doing to fool them. He was the one who, out of the blue, brought up that he could speak to bugs. Did he set something up ahead of time, when they fell for the bait? Some sort of lure to attract the dragonflies, and dupe them into thinking he was communicating with them...
Gently, subtly, when they breathe out, it's with mist flames carefully interwoven into their exhale. This is something they have to take the utmost caution in doing; there's a reason Reborn is known as such a great hitman. With his already carefully honed senses enhanced by his own sun flames, there's very little that he can't pick up if he's watching out for it... and, reasonably, for someone in that kind of profession, he's watching out for everything, all the time. That's what Viper has managed to understand more than well enough.
Still, they're no slouch themself. Reborn was no doubt just jerking their chain, when he brought up their title inside, but that's a title that Viper wears with pride. It doesn't matter if it's illusions, or something else that has to do with their ever shifting and powerful flame. Viper can pull it off.
So for this, they treat it as merely an extension of themself, feeling every shift and change in the air through their own lungs. It's not a technique that would do well at a distance... For that sort of long distance searching, they'd do much better just sneezing into a handkerchief, or crying down onto a specially prepared surface. Yet with Reborn right next to them, it's much easier for them to sense how much sun flames he's letting off.
Which is zero.
Viper's eye twitches. What? That can't be right. There has to be a mistake somewhere, but their use of their mist flame is flawless. It has to be, or else Reborn would have reacted. The natural enemy of a hitman is a mist illusionist, after all. Yet if they push too close, then he'll definitely know, since that would be the equivalent of just laying their hands on him. What is it that they're missing...?
"All Saints Day is coming up soon," Reborn says, carrying on a one-sided conversation all by himself as if there isn't a damselfly crawling along one cheek. "The people back home in Italy are preparing for it, apparently. Germany still isn't much for those kind of autumn holidays, but apparently some spurts of Halloween trick or treating happens in some of the American zones that are still around. Romania is much more interested in it, although the reason for that is obvious."
What on earth is he nattering on about now? Viper purses their lips together, and tries not to snap at him. This is a mystery they still want to solve. "Feeling homesick already?"
"Not particularly," Reborn says, which isn't particularly surprising. For people like them, 'home' isn't exactly an easy place to establish. "But it is helpful to keep an eye out on things happening outside our little hideaway." The dark gaze of his slides back to them. It'd be more intimidating, if not for all the bugs. Clearly he's waiting for them to ask more about just how he knew that sort of thing, when he's been here this entire time. Viper doesn't plan on giving him the satisfaction.
Besides, he'll just tell them it's obviously because of his bugs, and Viper calls bull on that, too. Anyone could make a guess at what kind of things are happening outside in the rest of the world, if they simply keep track of time, and are well versed in the different cultures all around.
That's just him utilizing his smarts. Nothing less, and yet nothing more.
Well, they don't need him to lecture them, either, and Viper gives a careless little shrug. See how much they don't care? See how much they aren't impressed? "I keep an eye on the important things," they say, which is true. Their paycheck is a lot more important, after all. They focus on that. "Besides, if I'm frank, I've never cared for the holidays that pretend they're holier than all the others. They all fall prey to the same thing in the end anyway."
Which is no surprise. For a long time, the ceaseless march of capitalism has been overwhelming, and more things than people would necessarily like to admit are influenced by such a thing. Viper is satisfied to say that they at least are more honest about such things.
And anyway... "I prefer Halloween as it exists in the United States, anyway." If asked, which they aren't sure Reborn will, they'd say it's because of the simple and satisfying upfront greed of the holiday. Getting a lot of candy, dressing up in ways you'd love to if not for regular conventions? There is an appeal to it that anyone would like, and it calls to illusionists the most of all.
And if maybe they have some fond memories of that time of their life, when they almost thought they would settle down somewhere with someone... Well, that's none of his damn business.
Reborn makes a small noise that is the epitome of "acknowledgment that a conversation is happening". Viper would wonder if he's actually listening, except the problem with Reborn is that he always is. "Why not do a little bit of Halloween here, then?" he suggests, with that crawling kind of smirk that says he's going to do whatever he wants to do anyway and everyone else has to deal with that. "We can even go trick or treating."
Now they know he's fucking with them. Viper dead eyes him, almost wishing their hood didn't hide so much of their face if only to give this asshole the full experience. "Yes, trick or treating in the middle of nowhere with an old man," they deadpan.
Who knows how old Reborn is, honestly. They sure don't. For people like Verde, Lal Mirch, and Skull, knowing their ages is a simple matter of following whatever is relevant to that which has kept them in the spotlight - Verde's college degrees, Lal Mirch's military files, the news and celebrity articles on Skull. Yet those deeply involved in the underworld, like Luce and Reborn, or those far removed from any records acknowledging their existence such as Fon... They're more of a mystery, and cracking such a thing might mean one's head gets cracked instead.
For now, Reborn just cracks a smirk. "You only need one other person to go trick or treating to, although the more the merrier. Although speaking of the more and the merrier..." He holds up one hand, fingers shifting and spreading out easily. "I heard some interesting things from my friends here." One of the damselflies flits off from his hat, balances itself delicately along his middle and pointer fingers.
Why does that make them all the more suspicious? Viper thins their lips. Likely he's going to tell them regardless of anything else... "Just get to the point."
"If you insist. Then I take it you really do cast an illusion over yourself to look like me and admire it in the mirror?"
Viper nearly chokes on their own air supply.
When they've recovered enough to be certain that they at least won't die that particular embarrassing death, Viper jerks up straight with a bristle. "You - what!? There's no way you would have seen me doing that!!" They know, because-
"Did you think that just casting an overall illusion around the perimeter of your room would be enough?" Dammit. Dammit! They loathe that one he's using, matching the glitter in his eye. "Well, that's not a bad assumption, with most of those here... But you clearly weren't thinking about what would happen if a little someone was still in there with you." He nudges his fingers up a little more, drawing attention towards the bug that lays there.
Viper can't possibly describe the noise that grinds out of their throat. This sort of scenario that he's just described - it's far too specific for him to have just randomly guessed at it ever having happened. Either he's a mind reader, which isn't possible with everything they know about him, or... And they'd rather bite their tongue off than admit this aloud... He's right in that he can use his bugs to spy on people, and there really was a damselfly tucked away in the room by the time Viper entered and decided to use their illusions. Because Reborn is right - they wouldn't have thought to trick the presence of something they didn't even know was there. They'd simply have covered up any outside eyes, and technology they suspected could be watching. With Verde, after all, one never knows what kind of nonsense is lurking around.
But to cover up a bug, that could have been clinging anywhere, that wouldn't have gotten their attention... Ugh! Viper can't help but feel aggravated at themself. And Reborn. Actually, you know what? Mostly Reborn.
This means, after all... That they have to acknowledge his use of bugs as spies. And they don't even have an idea of how he's doing it, either!
Dammit, once again. They're forced to go on immediate damage control; anything else can wait until later. "Don't get a big head," they snap, trying not to make it obvious how they're digging their fingers into their pants. Trust Reborn to have the kind of sharp eyes that would catch such a thing. "I've practiced making illusions of everyone, not just you. It's a good thing to practice, in case I need to abuse that face of yours."
"You could just ask, and I would let you abuse it any time you liked," Reborn says, which is such a... what? What does that mean? While Viper is boggling at it, the damselflies suddenly take off, and flit away. Some of them return to the forest, or at least in its direction, while others simply go to land on the porch railings, or seats that aren't taken up.
They'll have to watch out for that, later, whenever they're doing anything in their room. Flushing them out should be easy, now that Reborn's revealed that hand.
It's everything else that he hasn't revealed yet, and all Viper can do is watch as he pushes himself up to his feet. With his hands tucked away in his pockets, he steps forward only a short distance until he can lean forward. "Still, since you've gone and done it without my permission... Since you like Halloween so much, you should indulge me in this much, at least. Trick or treat, Viper."
Still frazzled and trying to figure out what is surface level and what goes somewhere deeper, Viper's mouth runs off without their permission. "Go fuck yourself, mafioso."
"I'm going to take that as a 'no' to the treat part, so I guess all I can do is keep going with the trick." Before Viper can launch themself forward to latch onto the lapels of his stupid expensive suit, Reborn pushes forward just a little more... and captures their mouth in a kiss with his own.
The first unfortunate truth: Reborn's lips do not feel entirely bad. They always knew he fussed about his appearance, because that was the only thing that could explain all of his looks, but it's different to actually feel them.
The second unfortunate truth: the kiss does not feel entirely bad.
It's not particularly overbearing, trying to force one over them or take more than what Reborn has earned, and it's just soft enough that it leaves them wanting maybe a little more. In the chill of the outdoors, its warmth is even a little reassuring, and, well. They're greedy. With something that feels good, that brings them warmth in this shitty chill, of course they want to steal away more of it for themself.
So believe them when they say it takes will to bite down on one of those soft lips, just enough to be a nip and maybe even sting a little - if someone like Reborn can even still feel such minor things. That's enough of a sign for Reborn to pull away just enough, and that, in turn, is just enough space for Viper to draw up a leg and plant their boot right against his torso.... but they don't kick him away. Instead, all they can do is huff and glare at him. "A rather crap trick," they tell him, before drawing their mist together, shifting out of the chair, to the front of the door. They feel as though they can show off a little more this way, their robe and cloak twirling about. "You better watch out, mafioso. I'll show you how to better do that kind of thing later."
Is it just them, or does he reach up and tug his hat down a little more? Is he embarrassed? Pleased? Reborn is sometimes impossible to read, but this time, it's their own fault that they can't get a proper bead on him. To live up to this show that they're presenting, Viper doesn't waste any time in walking right back inside again.
Inside their chest, their heart does stupid things as it rails against the inside of their chest. They've had romantic and sexual encounters when they were a teenager, but nothing else for a very long time... Well, this is nothing serious, right? They're just aiming to jerk his chain right back, as much as he's been jerking theirs all afternoon. It doesn't have to be anything serious... It just has to be fun. And if it might be the most fun they've had in a while, well...
Disappearing into nothing but mist and shadows, Viper smiles to themself. There's no point in overthinking any of that. If anything, there's a much better use of their time:
How are they going to do their own "trick" on that infamous and pain in the ass hitman?
Alright, that's a lie. They've definitely hated a lot of people more - cops from when they were a teenager and long before they became a professional criminal, and stingy employers who tried to get away with paying them less than what they were worth, and obviously Fon. Alway Fon. But sometimes, Reborn really tests everything in their self control to not just illusion him blind and then slug him in the face.
He's tall, but they can float. It wouldn't be that hard.
"If you're going to lie, you could at least make it a believable one," they say coolly, refusing to give the troll the satisfaction of annoying them. Or, at least, knowing that he's annoyed them. "Or should I give you points for creativity? I suppose some do find it more enjoyable to spin an amusing story than come off as serious."
Right now, it's only the two of them in this mysterious little European cabin, tucked away from the rest of the world in its nest of forests and mountains. The rest of the group they're working with - the donna Luce, that insufferable scientist Verde, all of them - they're still away on various other jobs that their employer has pulled together for them. Viper wouldn't mind that, most of the time, because it's a comfortable enough place. The cabin is well insulated, with small ovens having been placed in each of their rooms that are there purely for the providing of warmth. Down on the main floor, a massive fireplace does more than its fair share in warming up the enormous den that has been built there.
All that ruins it, as they sit curled up on the couch with a notebook clutched in one hand and a pen in the other, would be Reborn lurking around in that same stupid black suit that he seems to love so much, and which he never changes out of, unless it's into an even more stupid costume of some sort.
When they first met him, they thought his disposition towards costumes was sensible, since it first showed up when he was on a mission with them. Viper felt it explained a lot, at the time, and quietly approved of it as someone who'd also disguised themself in various ways throughout the years. It was helpful, at the time. Now, however, with Reborn constantly popping up with whatever hairbrained costume that even VAGUELY fits the situation - or doesn't at all! - they've grown rather sick of it.
There's no costume tonight. Just Reborn, clad in black, smirking at them in some distant amusement. One day, they'd love to see him eat shit and fail at something, but it doesn't seem something his existence is inclined to. One day... "I'm not lying," he says, which Viper doubts. "I use them for spying."
In their head, Viper calls bullshit. Maybe if Reborn possessed a sky flame, they'd be at least a little willing to look into it more. A sky flame means harmony, and so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch for someone possessing that flame to just... decide they want to understand bugs, for whatever reason. Spying, apparently. But they've never heard of the sun flame being used like this... So all they say is, "And you thought bugs were the best way to spy on people."
"Not all of us can make ourselves go invisible and snoop in on people's private lives that way," Reborn points out with a rather plain tone. At least that's the one good thing about the man - he's just as much of a criminal as they are. There's no judgment for whatever they opt to do with their illusions.
Not that it makes his point any better, considering that Viper still thinks it's an absolutely asinine way of doing things. Their lips jerk into a small little frown, and they resist the urge to turn their head away. Not only would it make them look childish, but they don't want to take an eye off of whatever Reborn is doing at any given time. He's too good a hitman for them to feel comfortable with him just lounging about in close proximity to them like this, even if there is a contract they all had to sign saying they'd not interfere with one another. "Viper" is a name that has made itself quite a solid hold in the underworld; no doubt a great many people would like to see them be rid of.
Still, the only answer they can offer up to his point is a short and blunt little scoff. "So you use bugs," they say, such a disgusting thought that they can't help but come back to it again and again.
Reborn rolls his shoulders in an all too smooth shrug, and something about that little gesture makes them bristle. The hitman always comes off as detached and in control, without fail, but something about this in particular makes them feel as though he's planning something. They just don't know exactly what it is. That's a problem, with a man as prone to kicking Skull out of his way as he is to saying something to rile up the entire group. "I use bugs," he agrees, and Viper almost thinks that he'll leave it at that. Instead, after a beat of silence which is only filled by the gentle crackle of the fireplace, he says, "Care for some proof?"
Slowly, Viper narrows their eyes. On one hand, this sounds like just another trick. Something to make fun of them, and work them up - oh, ha ha, Viper the famed illusionist fell for the stupidest lie in the world.
Except, there lies the problem: this is exactly the kind of truth-in-bullshit stunt that Reborn would pull. No doubt he would get amusement from making them fall for some stupid lie, yes, but the opposite would no doubt bring him just as much pleasure. Offering someone the truth, all the answers, right there on a silver platter... Only for them to turn their nose up at it, because they don't know any better.
There's a Greek myth about that exact kind of thing - a myth telling why powerful gods got the most shit part of the sacrificial animal while the humans gorged themselves on the best of it. It was all a simple matter of presentation, of appearance, and Viper had appreciated the myth as an illusionist. They can see a mirror of it here, as they narrow their eyes slowly over at Reborn, so confident and cool. Is this the sort of situation where they'd go for the superficially appealing choice, only for it to bite them later?
Dammit. They're kind of annoyed that they have to think this hard about it. Normally it's not advisable to take one's cake and eat it too, but it's the only thing they can think of to avoid two annoying circumstances. "It isn't as though I can stop you from doing whatever you like, World's Greatest Hitman," they say, trying to aim for dismissive.
Reborn tilts his head back every so slightly, and tips back the brim of his hat just a smidgen. He's watching them a little too intently, in Viper's opinion. "I was under the impression you were the World's Greatest Illusionist," he says, and, oh, that's it.
Pride flaring to life like a stray match in a gasoline factory, Viper snaps one foot down onto the floor. The sound of their boot heel doesn't carry the snap that they would like it to, but the impact of it against the rug is satisfying in its own right. "I'm nothing less," they say, tone dropping into something ice cold. This is stupid. They know it's stupid. This is exactly like Fon all over again - and they avoid Fon as though he were carrying the black plague, tough as that is to do in such a shared space like this. Why did there have to be two ultra annoying people in this work group? "Fine - let's see this little farce of yours." No matter what he's attempting to pull, they'll make it through without a single bit of trouble or losing face. They're an illusionist; faking it is what they live for.
It doesn't take very long for the two of them to get to where Reborn feels they apparently need to be, and it's not very far either. This little mansion of a cabin, deep into the woods as it is, has its own rather large porch area. More than once, their ragtag group of professionals has sat here during warmer weather, and discussed the latest missions that their mysterious employer has lined up for them in order to decide who would go do what.
The weather is growing more chill, however, as autumn begins to stretch itself through the air and over their bodies. As they step outside into the noon air, Viper resists the urge to cross their arms and shiver. They've faced worse than this... So they simply hunch their shoulders up, and focus hard on the warmth that their robe and cloak gives them.
Reborn, of course, doesn't show a single bit of worry about the temperature outside. Something thanks to the many layers he wears, or something further down on the list of bullshit he's capable of? Who knows. Probably his Sun flame is at least partially to blame - one of the flames most likely to act like a real and natural flame. All he does is make his way over to the seats that still lies out here, and falls into it with one smooth motion. It's kind of insufferable how easy he and Fon make even the smallest of physical movements look so easy.
"We haven't entered winter yet," he says, like this is just an average conversation about the weather. Viper, needless to say, is wary about it, because nothing is ever average with Reborn. They're proven right when he keeps running his mouth, and says, "That means we'll be able to still communicate with my fall minions. If it were winter, well, I prefer to use larvae in situations such as those."
They hate him. They fucking hate him. Viper can't stop their upper lip from shuddering up into a curl of distaste, but they do at least try to take in a deep breath through their nose. He's messing with them. That's all this is. They won't fall for the bait so easily, they really won't.
It kind of pisses them off that they suspect they might. The best thing to do in the face of such a revelation is to barrel right past it, and prove such thoughts wrong. "You're revolting," they say bluntly, because they feel that it's something Reborn needs to be reminded of more often than not. He gets away with far too much, honestly, with the respect he gains from people like Lal Mirch and the fondness of those such as Luce.
Unfortunately, the truth does nothing against those with no shame, because Reborn just tilts his head back to look at them with detached amusement. "They're simply bugs," he comments idly, which is not necessarily wrong.
There's really no point in getting into a giant argument about the difference between the average bug and larvae, at least to most people who aren't weirdos like Reborn, so Viper opts to just skip past addressing that. "So larvae are allegedly for winter," they say instead, using the most disinterested drawl they can muster up. "Do you use worms for fall, then?"
"Worms aren't arthropods," Reborn says, because that is clearly the most important part of this conversation. "However, for some mysterious reason, I have a feeling you won't believe me no matter what answer I give you from my own mouth. Wait a while and see."
What a nonsense cop out of an answer. Still, Viper supposes they're committed, now. If nothing shows up, they'll be able to give him shit for it. If something does show up.... Well, they'll figure their response out when it happens, they suppose. For now, they simply tug their clothing into proper place as they settle down onto one of the chairs, and let their hands fold neatly out of site on their lap, hidden away by folds of cloth.
While they'd hate to admit such a thing out loud... This isn't such a bad way to pass the time, at least while they're stuck out here on this job that could go on for who knows how long. For as long as this mysterious drama scum Checkerface decides to keep paying them, they suppose. A lot of their past jobs have required them to stay a lot in big cities, or at least moderately sized towns, depending on what the matter was. That's certainly convenient in a lot of ways, of course...
And yet for their own personal and private matters, they've honestly found they prefer being away from all of that. They know any safety felt from such things is just as much of an illusion as the very ones they craft in their line of work. Of course. They aren't so ignorant to fall for such a simple trap. It's just... That is how it feels, when they hide away in their own private home, away from any prying eyes as they work tirelessly on their flame research and go over the different job offers that they've received through proxy addresses and P.O. boxes.
In that respect, this place here in the European middle of nowhere is absolutely perfect. Nothing but trees, in an array of brilliant orange, stretch out before them as overgrown grass sways gently in the occasional breeze.
Their gaze flicks to the side again, landing on where Reborn is sitting. While they'd never admit it of their own volition, using their voice and mouth, the company isn't that bad either. Reborn might be annoying as hell for his twisted sense of humor, and how it occasionally feels as though it's impossible to get back at him, but he's useful and clever in a lot of ways. Unlike people such as Fon or Skull, he has an incredible amount of knowledge when it comes to the underworld - mainly the Italian mafia, of course, but also things he's picked up from around the world as he's gone on different jobs. The more information one has, after all, the easier their job is, and Reborn is the kind of perfectionist freak who doesn't settle for anything less than perfect.
Not only that, but, under an assumed identity - or three, or half a dozen - he's apparently somehow made the time for a ridiculous amount of PHDs. On one hand, it still kind of pisses Viper off, because a hitman shouldn't be so skilled (Eggheads like Verde are another matter entirely.) On the other hand... It's been satisfying, to have a conversation about the things they've learned - neurology, flames - with someone who actually gets it.
Viper doesn't really have a lot of chances to socialize - not since they were a teenager living in New York City, when they were trying out how it felt to be a girl for the first time, and they didn't make it a point to disappear off the map. It's... pleasant, to indulge in it again after so long.
Also, if they have to utter the utmost honesty to themself, he's not bad on the eyes either.
Which, really? That's just one more reason to be infuriated with him. Viper understood from a young age that there were plenty of attractive people in the underworld, but for some reason all of them seem to accumulate in the criminal underworld. At least Lal Mirch breaks the mold by being from military.
Viper takes in a deep breath, and lets it out through the air just to watch it come out in a soft warm haze. The cold is a huge problem, or else they'd spend more time reading and researching out here on the porch. It was fine in the spring and summer, when they could wrap themself in an illusion to work in peace with perfectly warm air, but this is really too much. Reborn and his stupid coffee will probably be here all the way until it snows, if they know him and his damn addiction-
There's a shadow in the trees.
Viper doesn't react, not overtly and not right away. Instead, they only narrow their eyes, and try to focus all the harder on making out details. They would have sensed it if it were another illusionist, they know that for a fact, so it has to be something else. But what?
The answer soon becomes apparent, along with the humming of many tiny wings, and Viper is left to stare in complete disbelief as a small hoard of dragonflies comes buzzing for the air, past the supports of the porch, and right for Reborn. The hitman doesn't even so much as stir. All he does is sit there, content as can be, as the dragonflies land all over him: along his hat, daintily perched on the lapels of his suit, and a good handful right on his face.
"What the hell," Viper says, the words slipping out before they can stop themself.
Reborn doesn't smile. That doesn't stop him from somehow just producing an impenetrable air of insufferable smugness as he sits there with dragonflies crawling all along his face. "It's lestes sponsa," he says, because that is clearly the most important information to impart here. "Also known as emerald damselflies. It took some convincing to get them around here, but there is a pond nearby, and they are the most widespread throughout all of Europe."
This is information to keep in mind for later, maybe - Viper isn't sure how they'll incorporate this into their own research, but there's no knowledge that's truly worthless. However, later isn't now, and, right now, they have much different priorities.
Granted, one of those priorities is repeating the phrase "what the hell" over and over again in their head. However, another priority entails watching Reborn with even more razor focus than they already give the man, and Viper narrows their eyes a little bit. There has to be a trick here that they're just not getting, something Reborn is doing to fool them. He was the one who, out of the blue, brought up that he could speak to bugs. Did he set something up ahead of time, when they fell for the bait? Some sort of lure to attract the dragonflies, and dupe them into thinking he was communicating with them...
Gently, subtly, when they breathe out, it's with mist flames carefully interwoven into their exhale. This is something they have to take the utmost caution in doing; there's a reason Reborn is known as such a great hitman. With his already carefully honed senses enhanced by his own sun flames, there's very little that he can't pick up if he's watching out for it... and, reasonably, for someone in that kind of profession, he's watching out for everything, all the time. That's what Viper has managed to understand more than well enough.
Still, they're no slouch themself. Reborn was no doubt just jerking their chain, when he brought up their title inside, but that's a title that Viper wears with pride. It doesn't matter if it's illusions, or something else that has to do with their ever shifting and powerful flame. Viper can pull it off.
So for this, they treat it as merely an extension of themself, feeling every shift and change in the air through their own lungs. It's not a technique that would do well at a distance... For that sort of long distance searching, they'd do much better just sneezing into a handkerchief, or crying down onto a specially prepared surface. Yet with Reborn right next to them, it's much easier for them to sense how much sun flames he's letting off.
Which is zero.
Viper's eye twitches. What? That can't be right. There has to be a mistake somewhere, but their use of their mist flame is flawless. It has to be, or else Reborn would have reacted. The natural enemy of a hitman is a mist illusionist, after all. Yet if they push too close, then he'll definitely know, since that would be the equivalent of just laying their hands on him. What is it that they're missing...?
"All Saints Day is coming up soon," Reborn says, carrying on a one-sided conversation all by himself as if there isn't a damselfly crawling along one cheek. "The people back home in Italy are preparing for it, apparently. Germany still isn't much for those kind of autumn holidays, but apparently some spurts of Halloween trick or treating happens in some of the American zones that are still around. Romania is much more interested in it, although the reason for that is obvious."
What on earth is he nattering on about now? Viper purses their lips together, and tries not to snap at him. This is a mystery they still want to solve. "Feeling homesick already?"
"Not particularly," Reborn says, which isn't particularly surprising. For people like them, 'home' isn't exactly an easy place to establish. "But it is helpful to keep an eye out on things happening outside our little hideaway." The dark gaze of his slides back to them. It'd be more intimidating, if not for all the bugs. Clearly he's waiting for them to ask more about just how he knew that sort of thing, when he's been here this entire time. Viper doesn't plan on giving him the satisfaction.
Besides, he'll just tell them it's obviously because of his bugs, and Viper calls bull on that, too. Anyone could make a guess at what kind of things are happening outside in the rest of the world, if they simply keep track of time, and are well versed in the different cultures all around.
That's just him utilizing his smarts. Nothing less, and yet nothing more.
Well, they don't need him to lecture them, either, and Viper gives a careless little shrug. See how much they don't care? See how much they aren't impressed? "I keep an eye on the important things," they say, which is true. Their paycheck is a lot more important, after all. They focus on that. "Besides, if I'm frank, I've never cared for the holidays that pretend they're holier than all the others. They all fall prey to the same thing in the end anyway."
Which is no surprise. For a long time, the ceaseless march of capitalism has been overwhelming, and more things than people would necessarily like to admit are influenced by such a thing. Viper is satisfied to say that they at least are more honest about such things.
And anyway... "I prefer Halloween as it exists in the United States, anyway." If asked, which they aren't sure Reborn will, they'd say it's because of the simple and satisfying upfront greed of the holiday. Getting a lot of candy, dressing up in ways you'd love to if not for regular conventions? There is an appeal to it that anyone would like, and it calls to illusionists the most of all.
And if maybe they have some fond memories of that time of their life, when they almost thought they would settle down somewhere with someone... Well, that's none of his damn business.
Reborn makes a small noise that is the epitome of "acknowledgment that a conversation is happening". Viper would wonder if he's actually listening, except the problem with Reborn is that he always is. "Why not do a little bit of Halloween here, then?" he suggests, with that crawling kind of smirk that says he's going to do whatever he wants to do anyway and everyone else has to deal with that. "We can even go trick or treating."
Now they know he's fucking with them. Viper dead eyes him, almost wishing their hood didn't hide so much of their face if only to give this asshole the full experience. "Yes, trick or treating in the middle of nowhere with an old man," they deadpan.
Who knows how old Reborn is, honestly. They sure don't. For people like Verde, Lal Mirch, and Skull, knowing their ages is a simple matter of following whatever is relevant to that which has kept them in the spotlight - Verde's college degrees, Lal Mirch's military files, the news and celebrity articles on Skull. Yet those deeply involved in the underworld, like Luce and Reborn, or those far removed from any records acknowledging their existence such as Fon... They're more of a mystery, and cracking such a thing might mean one's head gets cracked instead.
For now, Reborn just cracks a smirk. "You only need one other person to go trick or treating to, although the more the merrier. Although speaking of the more and the merrier..." He holds up one hand, fingers shifting and spreading out easily. "I heard some interesting things from my friends here." One of the damselflies flits off from his hat, balances itself delicately along his middle and pointer fingers.
Why does that make them all the more suspicious? Viper thins their lips. Likely he's going to tell them regardless of anything else... "Just get to the point."
"If you insist. Then I take it you really do cast an illusion over yourself to look like me and admire it in the mirror?"
Viper nearly chokes on their own air supply.
When they've recovered enough to be certain that they at least won't die that particular embarrassing death, Viper jerks up straight with a bristle. "You - what!? There's no way you would have seen me doing that!!" They know, because-
"Did you think that just casting an overall illusion around the perimeter of your room would be enough?" Dammit. Dammit! They loathe that one he's using, matching the glitter in his eye. "Well, that's not a bad assumption, with most of those here... But you clearly weren't thinking about what would happen if a little someone was still in there with you." He nudges his fingers up a little more, drawing attention towards the bug that lays there.
Viper can't possibly describe the noise that grinds out of their throat. This sort of scenario that he's just described - it's far too specific for him to have just randomly guessed at it ever having happened. Either he's a mind reader, which isn't possible with everything they know about him, or... And they'd rather bite their tongue off than admit this aloud... He's right in that he can use his bugs to spy on people, and there really was a damselfly tucked away in the room by the time Viper entered and decided to use their illusions. Because Reborn is right - they wouldn't have thought to trick the presence of something they didn't even know was there. They'd simply have covered up any outside eyes, and technology they suspected could be watching. With Verde, after all, one never knows what kind of nonsense is lurking around.
But to cover up a bug, that could have been clinging anywhere, that wouldn't have gotten their attention... Ugh! Viper can't help but feel aggravated at themself. And Reborn. Actually, you know what? Mostly Reborn.
This means, after all... That they have to acknowledge his use of bugs as spies. And they don't even have an idea of how he's doing it, either!
Dammit, once again. They're forced to go on immediate damage control; anything else can wait until later. "Don't get a big head," they snap, trying not to make it obvious how they're digging their fingers into their pants. Trust Reborn to have the kind of sharp eyes that would catch such a thing. "I've practiced making illusions of everyone, not just you. It's a good thing to practice, in case I need to abuse that face of yours."
"You could just ask, and I would let you abuse it any time you liked," Reborn says, which is such a... what? What does that mean? While Viper is boggling at it, the damselflies suddenly take off, and flit away. Some of them return to the forest, or at least in its direction, while others simply go to land on the porch railings, or seats that aren't taken up.
They'll have to watch out for that, later, whenever they're doing anything in their room. Flushing them out should be easy, now that Reborn's revealed that hand.
It's everything else that he hasn't revealed yet, and all Viper can do is watch as he pushes himself up to his feet. With his hands tucked away in his pockets, he steps forward only a short distance until he can lean forward. "Still, since you've gone and done it without my permission... Since you like Halloween so much, you should indulge me in this much, at least. Trick or treat, Viper."
Still frazzled and trying to figure out what is surface level and what goes somewhere deeper, Viper's mouth runs off without their permission. "Go fuck yourself, mafioso."
"I'm going to take that as a 'no' to the treat part, so I guess all I can do is keep going with the trick." Before Viper can launch themself forward to latch onto the lapels of his stupid expensive suit, Reborn pushes forward just a little more... and captures their mouth in a kiss with his own.
The first unfortunate truth: Reborn's lips do not feel entirely bad. They always knew he fussed about his appearance, because that was the only thing that could explain all of his looks, but it's different to actually feel them.
The second unfortunate truth: the kiss does not feel entirely bad.
It's not particularly overbearing, trying to force one over them or take more than what Reborn has earned, and it's just soft enough that it leaves them wanting maybe a little more. In the chill of the outdoors, its warmth is even a little reassuring, and, well. They're greedy. With something that feels good, that brings them warmth in this shitty chill, of course they want to steal away more of it for themself.
So believe them when they say it takes will to bite down on one of those soft lips, just enough to be a nip and maybe even sting a little - if someone like Reborn can even still feel such minor things. That's enough of a sign for Reborn to pull away just enough, and that, in turn, is just enough space for Viper to draw up a leg and plant their boot right against his torso.... but they don't kick him away. Instead, all they can do is huff and glare at him. "A rather crap trick," they tell him, before drawing their mist together, shifting out of the chair, to the front of the door. They feel as though they can show off a little more this way, their robe and cloak twirling about. "You better watch out, mafioso. I'll show you how to better do that kind of thing later."
Is it just them, or does he reach up and tug his hat down a little more? Is he embarrassed? Pleased? Reborn is sometimes impossible to read, but this time, it's their own fault that they can't get a proper bead on him. To live up to this show that they're presenting, Viper doesn't waste any time in walking right back inside again.
Inside their chest, their heart does stupid things as it rails against the inside of their chest. They've had romantic and sexual encounters when they were a teenager, but nothing else for a very long time... Well, this is nothing serious, right? They're just aiming to jerk his chain right back, as much as he's been jerking theirs all afternoon. It doesn't have to be anything serious... It just has to be fun. And if it might be the most fun they've had in a while, well...
Disappearing into nothing but mist and shadows, Viper smiles to themself. There's no point in overthinking any of that. If anything, there's a much better use of their time:
How are they going to do their own "trick" on that infamous and pain in the ass hitman?