Chapter Text

This job was a mistake. If you’d known who Chrollo Lucilfer was and what he was capable of, you would have turned down the money. You’ll never be able to forget his face now: the politely disinterested smile and near emotionless eyes. He was…terrifying. 

And now this. Captured by the Phantom Troupe. Things really can’t get much worse.

“I can get all the answers we need,” says the man behind you. His voice is rough and low. 

He has your right arm pinned behind your back and your face smashed against the wall. The strength of his hold on you is unbelievable. You can’t squirm an inch away. All you can see is grey plaster and peeling wallpaper. Your elbow and shoulder scream at the pressure he’s applying, but you refuse to let it show.

“Why bother?” Another male voice asks from somewhere to the left. He sounds somehow both laid back and annoyed. “The Boss will be back in a few days and he can tell us what to do then.” 

Chrollo isn’t here? That’s the first good news you’ve heard. And with a few days to work with…well, you’ve done more with less.

“What does the Boss want from you?” The man leans his weight into your twisted arm. 

Pain spears through your bones as they begin to fracture. You grind your teeth together and a bead of sweat drips off the tip of your nose. 

You consider answering the question but ultimately decide against it. You don’t know what they want to hear and there’s very little chance you can talk your way out of being tortured. Best to keep quiet, gather information, and see how things play out.

This is fine. You can take it. It’s not as bad as what Chrollo did to you.

“Feitan, let her go. She’s no threat to anyone here and our only orders are to hold her until the Boss arrives.”

The man hurting you–Feitan–clicks his tongue and presses down on your elbow. You exhale in a hiss, unwilling to give voice to the splintering pain; he doesn’t deserve the satisfaction. Your cheek is rubbed raw where it’s pressed into the wall and your vision is starting to swim. Fainting now might actually work out in your favor. You can’t torture someone who’s unconscious.

“Feitan, she’s needs a fucking wheelchair. Let her go!” The second man commands. 

How chivalrous. Maybe there will be a chance to play up the damsel-in-distress angle.

“Nobunaga. Are you giving me an order?” Feitan asks, voice cold. 

Something about this feels like a well trodden argument. Like siblings having the same fight they always do. Who’d have thought the Phantom Troupe would fall prey to typical family dynamics? 

“Stand down or I’ll make you stand down,” Nobunaga growls.

“There’s no fighting among troupe members,” a feminine voice cuts in. 

Your ears perk up. She sounds calm and reasonable. Maybe you can get her on your side. You wish you could see them all to get a better read on things. 

“All disagreements between members are to be decided by a coin toss,” she says. 

Damn. That’s not the compassionate intervention you were hoping for.

The two men begrudgingly agree and the rest of your evening now hinges on the flip of a coin. Are you going to have a bad night or a very bad night? 50/50.

“Heads and you let her go,” Nobunaga calls.

“Tails and I torture her until she tells us everything,” Faitan calls. 

You don’t hear the coin toss but you imagine it flipping end over end through the air. Time slows the way it can in a dream, stretching on for a short eternity. For a moment there is only the pounding of your own heart and the distant patter of rain. You decide in advance the coin is going to land on Tails. Better to accept the worst case scenario in advance. Life is less painful that way. 

“Heads,” Nobunaga reveals. 

You sag in unexpected relief. Relief which turns to shock as Feitan cleanly snaps the bones in your forearm. Blood drains from your face and your jaw drops open in a soundless pained inhale. He shoves off you, pushing you further into the wall, and stomps away. 

“Now that’s just childish,” Nobunaga laughs loudly. 

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, igniting your anger and dulling the searing pain of the broken bones. He’ll pay for this. You’re not sure how yet, but you’re going to find a way. You bring the injured arm gingerly to your chest and exhale through your nose. 

For the moment, no one is paying attention to you, which gives you a moment to take in the room and the strange group that makes up a small portion of the infamous Troupe. You raise your head and look around. 

The building is some kind of dilapidated corporate office. There are massive holes in the ceiling revealing sections of the ruined upper floors. Huge chunks of concrete litter the floor beside broken bits of office chairs, fake plants, and old furnishings.

Feitan storms away to brood in a dark corner, a retreating figure wearing all black with dark spikey hair. 

The girl who suggested the coin toss is sitting on top of a small mountain of rubble near the entrance. She has short cut hair, wide round glasses, and a large golden cross around her neck. But she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t strong. You wonder what her ability is. What makes her valuable to someone like Chrollo?

Nobunaga is more familiar to you. He’s the one who brought you here, though you hadn’t known his name then. 

He’d been polite, all things considered. You were expecting someone to come for you after your encounter with Chrollo. So when a tall man with long hair wearing street clothes appeared at your hotel window and explained he was there to take you, you didn’t fight him. He waited patiently for you to get to your wheelchair and then he rolled you calmly out of the lobby and to a waiting car.

“Are you alright?” Nobunaga turns to you and holds out his hand. You take it and let him guide you back into your chair.

You shrug your good shoulder and push your chair away from him.

He chuckles. “You’re tougher than you look.” 

You know how you look. It doesn’t feel like much of a compliment. But if you play your cards right, maybe you’ll have a chance to show this man how tough you are.

“Who’s this?” A woman with bright pink hair materializes from the shadows at the opposite end of the large room. 

You recognize her. Machi. 

She’s the only member of the Troupe you knew of before tonight, but only because of her ability: Nen stitches. Once upon a time, you made a study of healing Nen abilities. You wished for an ability like hers. But that was a long time ago.

“We don’t know,” Nobunaga answers. “The Boss told me where to find her and ordered me to bring her here.” 

Before Machi can ask another question, a second figure emerges from the shadows. 

The first thing you notice is his shock of bright red hair glowing in the dim light like fire. The man is taller than everyone else in the room, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist accentuated by some kind of corset. Between the heels, the facepaint, and the self-assured smirk, he’s definitely trouble.

“From the look of her right arm, Feitan’s already asked her a few questions.” His voice is lilting and amused. “I take it she didn’t feel like answering?” 

Golden eyes zero in on you. Goosebumps rise across your skin.

“What did the Boss say to you exactly?” Machi asks Nobunaga, folding her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes in your direction.

“He called and gave me an address. Said there was a girl there I needed to bring back to the base at any cost, and that he would meet us here in a few days.” He answers.

At any cost? That’s not good. Chrollo must have learned enough about your ability to decide to steal it. Does that mean all your endurance and resolve was for nothing? You shove the thought away. It’s done with. There’s no point thinking about it. 

“He didn’t give you any other orders?” Machi asks. “We’re only supposed to keep her here?” She looks you up and down.

The wheelchair works in your favor in situations like this. That and your lack of defensive Nen. Damsel-in-distress is looking like a more and more favorable option. Maybe you should start playing up your injury?

“No. And to top it all off, Uvo was supposed to show up this morning and we haven’t heard from him. I’m gonna go look for him so you guys keep an eye on her until I get back.” Nobunaga ties his long hair back with a ribbon.

“Should you really be going out alone?” Machi asks, though she doesn’t sound particularly upset.

“Don’t worry.” Nobunaga says over his shoulder, already walking away. “Uvo has always been a stickler about being on time, so something must have distracted him. You guys should be able to handle an injured girl until morning.” He laughs warmly and leaves through the front entrance.

“Hmm.” Machi frowns. “Well, we should watch her in pairs. We’ll take shifts. Feitan and Hisoka, and me and Shizuku.”

“Why should I work with Hisoka?” Feitan complains. “You’re the one who’s friends with him.”

“We are not friends.” Machi shakes her head. 

“Oh? Aren’t we?” The red-headed man asks in his sing-song voice. Hisoka. “I don’t know, I think we have a friendly relationship.”

She huffs a laugh. “We don’t have a relationship. You pay me to heal you after you go on one of your kamikaze rampages. I couldn’t care less if you live or die.”

Hisoka giggles. The sound is a chilling contrast to his imposing figure.

“Regardless,” Feitan says. “I am not going to take a shift with Hisoka. Shizuku and I will take over watching the hostage in the morning.”

“Whatever,” Machi sighs. “But for the record, I don’t like this. Something about this girl caught the Boss’s attention and until we know what that is, we need to stay alert.” 

Machi’s got a good instinct. She’s going to be a problem.

Exhaustion hits you all at once, adrenaline draining away to nothing. Each beat of your heart makes your arm pulse with pain. Your entire body aches. 

Suddenly the back of your neck prickles uncomfortably. You snap your head up and meet Hisoka’s gaze. He doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. His strange yellow eyes are appraising and curious.

You feel pinned by his stare, frozen to the spot.

“Machi,” Hisoka drawls though his attention remains fixed on you. “You should heal her arm. We don’t know what condition the Boss expects to find her in. We wouldn't want to upset him.”

Machi hums in agreement and approaches.

“Hold out your arm.” She orders, breaking whatever spell Hisoka put you under. 

You lift the battered limb for her as best you can without flinching. 

She raises her hand and closes her eyes to concentrate. There is a palpable shift of energy in the air. And then aura coalesces around her fingers, transmuting into beautiful white strings. Her Nen stitches. You never thought you’d get to see them in action, let alone be on the receiving end of her ability. 

Glowing strings wrap themselves around and around the length of your arm. It hurts more than you expected, like her stitches are wrapped around the splintered bones, binding them together with heat and force.

You grit your teeth not to let discomfort show. It will be over soon. It’s not that bad. You wonder how she visualizes the ability and if it requires anatomical knowledge to work. But she doesn’t seem like the type to answer questions.

By the time she’s finished your arm is good as new, but your clothes are damp with sweat. Your body must have done a lot of the work of work, like the stitches held you together while accelerating your body’s natural healing. 

The room around you starts to spin. You shut your eyes against the sensation. The relief of your arm no longer hurting is overshadowed by a growing nausea. You’re so fucking tired.

“What’s all that?” You hear Machi ask, but you don’t care enough to look.

“Bedding,” Hisoka answers cheerily. 

You perk up a bit at that and open your eyes to see Machi with her back to you and Hisoka laying down armfuls of soft looking fabrics on the ground. Is that a mattress pad? Genuine relief makes your limbs feel weak. You stifle the feeling before it can turn to gratitude. 

“For her?” She sounds both shocked and suspicious. No one in this group seems particularly trusting, even of each other.

“Machi,” Hisoka puts his hands on his hips in an exaggerated pout. “I’m surprised at you. Were you planning to make a poor disabled girl sleep on a concrete floor? You’re so cruel.” He holds out a hand to you. His nails are long and pointed. “Come here, little hostage. You look tired.” 

Okay now you’re at least as suspicious as Machi. What’s his motive?

The makeshift bed he’s made for you is against the far wall, furthest from the exit and in full view of the entire room. They’ll all be able to keep an eye on you. But that also means they’ll all likely stay nearby.

You wheel your chair closer and park it against the wall. Hisoka’s hand is still outstretched, and you look at it for a long moment, the way you would a snake in the grass. What does he expect in return for this kind gesture?

Slowly, you take his hand. He lifts you gently to your feet and you wonder how he knew you would be able to stand. Most people don’t know ambulatory wheelchair users exist. 

“And down you go~” he sings as he helps you lower yourself to the bed. You do your best to keep the pain off your face and lean on him as little as possible on the way down. The mattress pad is soft and the blankets smell freshly laundered. 

Where on earth did he get all this? More importantly, why had he gone through the trouble? You examine his expression, but find only that pleased smirking. 

Could he know about you? About your ability? 

No, that’s not possible.

“Thank you,” you say cautiously, afraid to break eye contact with him.

“So she can speak,” Feitan mumbles bitterly from across the room. 

“You should try being more interesting to speak to,” Hisoka offers. 

A massive chunk of broken concrete hurtles suddenly through the air from Fetian’s direction. Hisoka bats the projectile away with a casual flick of his wrist and the concrete explodes against the ground with a loud crack. You tense, expecting an escalation of the conflict, but there is none. Feitan appears satisfied and Hisoka merely winks at you, a mischievous glimmer in his yellow eyes. 

He’s enjoying the conflict, you realize. Hisoka is provoking Feitan and Machi for fun.

You turn over this new piece of information, trying to look at it from all angles like a puzzle piece that doesn’t yet have a place in the larger picture. 

Machi takes her place leaning against the wall by your legs and Hisoka sits on the ground against the wall near your head. Your two sentries for the night. Well that’s fine. The closer the better. 

You settle into the blankets, apprehensive and exhausted. The room falls silent as the members return to their individual pastimes.

This makeshift bed is better than trying to sleep in your chair on the bare concrete, but your body is quick to let you know it’s not good enough. Your arm may be healed but you can already tell you’re going to hurt for the next few days. But that’s a problem for the future.

Somehow you find sleep is waiting for you, and you let the soothing darkness drag you under.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It’s an interesting feeling, to wake up without actually waking up. You are aware that you’re asleep, but you leave your sleeping body behind. You can’t see the room, precisely, but you can feel the people in it. 

Part of your ability, one of the most important parts, is that anyone within close enough proximity to your sleeping body finds it difficult to stay awake. It was worth the price you paid to keep this specific information from Chrollo. It may be your only way out.

Feitan is the first to succumb to your influence. He fights you, trying to shake off the weariness that settles over him like a thick blanket. You feel it when he finally falls asleep and his dreams flicker to life like a spark in the dark. You, your aura or your consciousness, are drawn to the spark. The feeling is familiar. You reach out and let the light pull you in.

When you slip into his dreams, you find a hazy imprecise reconstruction of the Phantom Troupe's base, like a watercolor painting. Everyone dreams with a different level of detail; Feitan’s dream is loose, rooted more in his emotions than realism.

Feitan is dreaming of you. 

His recreation of you is bloody and screaming on the floor, missing various limbs and pieces. You expected him to act with cool detached precision as he hurt you. And maybe that’s what he’s like in real life, but here in his dreams he laughs maniacally, unhinged and vicious. That coin toss really saved your bacon. 

You watch him for a while, hidden in a dark corner of the dream, in no rush. It’s a relief to be away from the aches and pains of your body. You pay careful attention to his emotions, the words that come from him, and his projection of you. 

This is your ability. You can slip into the dreams of others. You can spy on their subconscious and influence their dreams. Most people are completely vulnerable when they sleep. You’ve been able to make a decent living off of using your ability as a private investigator but, as Chrollo so recently taught you, the stronger the Nen user the greater the risk. 

Feitan’s dream feels…lonely. 

Isolation colors the air, like an oppressive perfume. You let it wash over you, tasting each note. He wants but does not seem to know what it is that he wants. He feels a lack. The Spider addresses some of that lack for him, but imperfectly. You get the sense that the Phantom Troupe is the best thing he’s ever had. But it bothers him that he still wants more. 

As he tortures the whimpering version of you on the floor, you think you might know what he’s looking for; it’s a common enough desire. He wants to be known. He wants to feel like someone understands him completely and chooses to spend time with him anyway. But he doesn’t believe his wish is possible, so he pushes everyone away. 

It feels good to understand, to know a person’s unfiltered truth. People don’t lie in their dreams.

But there’s something else bubbling up beneath that loneliness. You decide to ask.

What are you seeking? You whisper the question into his subconscious mind, like dropping a coin into a deep well.

Revenge. His mind answers back. 

A hot wind rips through the stage of his unconsciousness. You see flashes of Meteor City. A younger version of Chrollo and what must be other members of the Troupe. A little girl’s face, dead and bloodied. He won’t think her name. 

You wonder if you’re witnessing the inception of the Spider. If this girl is what brought them all together. If all this is somehow for her. How twisted. But potentially useful. 

You show him her face next to his projection of your own. Maybe you can associate yourself with the fond feelings he had for the girl.

Let her go. You speak the suggestion into his mind, trying to plant the seed. Save her.

It was the wrong move. His dreams clench around you like a fist. Darkness smothers everything and a rumbling fills your ears. The reply comes from the depths of the darkness. 

No mercy. 

Well. There’s your answer. 

Feitan is not going to be easily manipulated. Maybe you can keep working on him over the next few days. You ease your way out of his dream, letting your aura be drawn back to your own sleeping body. 

Your influence has affected the entirety of the room, but it’s not working as well as you hoped. Shizuku seems almost entirely immune. Machi is tired but fighting hard to stay awake. Which only leaves…

As if on cue, Hisoka drifts into a slumber. His dream lights up like a little dancing flame. For a moment you linger, hoping Machi will fall asleep soon and you can put off learning any more about this strange man. She doesn’t. 

No choice then. You let his spark draw you close.

His dream welcomes you in without a fuss. 

At first it’s disorienting. There are bright lights, a distant roaring, and a feeling of joyful anticipation and danger. Objects moving so quickly they blur. Everything is focused and concrete.

It takes a moment for you to adjust to it all before you realize where you are: Heaven’s Arena. You’ve never been, but you’ve seen the fights on TV as you flipped through channels.

The crowd roars, an ocean of people bobbing up and down responding to Hisoka’s every move. You watch from the stadium seats, mixing in with the audience. You don’t recognize the other person fighting. He’s too covered in blood to make out his features. 

Hisoka feels…elated. His awareness is sharp, honed like a blade. His golden eyes follow his opponents every breath. The calm facade as he destroys the bloodied man barely conceals a manic indulgent joy. Like a child left alone in a candy store at night. You imagine a cat toying with its food. Or maybe a fox. 

His opponent dies. The crowd goes wild. Hisoka preens and gloats, floating on near post-orgasmic bliss. Such a contrast from Feitan’s bleak inner landscape. 

What is there to learn here? Hisoka loves to fight? That aligns with what you’ve seen of how he provokes the other members.

Maybe a new dream will present new information. You shift the dream, wipe away the lights, the stage, the people, and try out something more intimate. You construct a few trees, allude to a night sky, and let his subconscious take over the rest. You watch from behind the vague impression of a tree as the new dream solidifies.  

Hisoka is prowling through a dark and foreboding forest looking for his next meal, so you give him one. 

You conjure up a projection of yourself, sleeping and vulnerable, and place it within his line of sight. Once you form her, she becomes a part of his dream and outside of your control. She will act the way he expects her to. The way his subconscious believes you would. 

It’s a test. You’re sure at this point that he’ll either kill the sleeping version of you quickly, or move past with complete disinterest. But either way you’ll have gained information. Maybe if it comes down to it, you can convince him to kill you before Chrollo can. Or Feitan. Maybe you could provoke him to it.

Hisoka stills when he spots the sleeping version of you. But instead of approaching, he pauses, leans causally against a nearby tree, and watches the girl as if pondering something.

It’s an odd behavior for someone in a dream. Dreams are almost never quiet and still. They tend to be riots of color, movement, and senseless unending inner monologue. There are exceptions, of course, every person is different. But this is strange.

The girl sleeps. Hisoka watches. A loon cries from somewhere in the dark. The only emotion you can feel in the air is curiosity. Maybe this dream needs another nudge?

Help her. You whisper into his subconscious, weaving your desire into the fabric of the dream. 

But a response doesn’t come. You listen hard, waiting to hear his subconscious answer back, but there’s nothing. Hisoka merely lounges against the tree, watching the sleeping girl. His stillness is unnerving.

You suddenly remember Chrollo. You remember your own overconfidence. No one had ever caught you before he did. No one had ever guessed their dreams had been invaded by an outside presence. Chrollo must have noticed you the first time you entered his dreams, but had the foresight not to give it away. The second time, he set a trap. 

The memory of it grips you. You can’t get a breath, like a band has constricted around your lungs. And for one wild second you’re convinced Hisoka knows. He knows you’re here. You need to leave. You can’t get caught again.

You clench your fist, fingernails digging into your palm, and make yourself focus.

Breathe. It’s alright. Everything is alright. Hisoka hasn’t moved. Jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help.

You shake off your unease. The worst case scenario has already happened. You’re already caught in the Spider’s web. The only way out is forward. 

So you watch. This dream is quiet. Still. Different from the raucous jeering arena crowd of the arena. Finally, Hisoka pushes himself off the tree. The way he moves is languid and purposeful. You feel a moment of irrational fear for the girl on the ground. 

The dream version of you startles awake, but before she can register his presence, Hisoka wraps his long fingers around her throat. You become viscerally aware that back in the real world your body is lying unconscious mere inches away from this man. 

Dream you gasps and clutches at his hand, eyes wide with fear. You wonder how he’ll kill her. Will he use his Nen ability? That would at least provide you with some additional information about him. It can’t be anything worse than the way Feitan was dreaming of tearing you apart piece by piece.

Hisoka leans forward, drinking in her fear and panic, and then touches his lips to the corner of her mouth. It startles you. What is he doing? It startles the girl too. Her mouth drops open in surprise, and Hisoka takes advantage of the movement to slide his tongue inside her mouth. The hand not around her throat wraps around her waist to pull her closer. The dream girl thaws, leans into his touch, and kisses him back.

Your mouth goes dry and your heart rate kicks up a notch. You feel off balance and maybe a little violated. This isn’t what you expected from him.

The girl is making little mewling sounds as Hisoka’s hands wander her body. He groans in approval, licking a line across her jaw. Suddenly he sinks his teeth into the side of her neck and she arches into him, crying out and grasping at his clothes. 

You’re almost offended. Is that really what he thinks you sound like during sex? 

Blood drips from the dream girl's neck and coats his lips. Moonlight breaks through the clouds, highlighting the muscles of his arms and back and he crawls down her body, leaving little traces of blood as he kisses and bites his way down her stomach. He throws both her legs over his shoulders and lowers his mouth between her thighs. 

You suddenly decide it’s time to go. Your cheeks burn and you ignore the way your stomach is doing wild backflips.

You turn away from the scene, disturbed and embarrassed, and find yourself suddenly face to face with Hisoka. Well, more like face to chest with the way he towers above you.

“Hello, little hostage,” he purrs, lips still smeared with blood.

Your stomach drops. You whirl back around to the place where the dream version of you was tangled up with him, but they’re both gone.

“No wheelchair?” He asks. “I suppose you wouldn’t need one in a dream. That’s interesting.” 

He licks the blood away, using his thumb to push the last of it into his mouth.

It’s happening again. You can’t let it happen again. You raise your hand, ready to end the dream and pull the emergency parachute out of here, but Hisoka’s quick hands pin your wrists to your side.

“Calm down,” he croons and walks you backward until you’re pressed between his body and a tree. “I’m not going to hurt you. We should talk, don’t you think?”

You struggle against his grip, heart hammering wildly. His golden eyes flash as he watches you fight against his hold. The sight of it makes you still. The last thing you want is to excite him. 

You need to figure out how much he knows without giving him anything in return. Which means not letting him see the full extent of your ability. Let him think he’s caught you. Let him think he’s got the upper hand. He isn’t Chrollo. You’re not trapped.  

“How did you know I was here?” You ask, venom dripping from each word. 

“My, my.” He laughs. “You’re quite the spitfire. Where has all this passion been hiding? You’ve been such a quiet and well behaved captive.”

“How did you know?” You repeat, craning your neck to look into his eyes. 

He smiles. “I’ll tell you. And I’ll release you if you promise not to disappear on me. After all, I am your only chance to escape before Chrollo returns.” 

He’s already offering to help you escape? Why? What could he possibly have to gain from helping you? This isn’t good. You have too many questions. And you need to hear what he knows.

“Fine,” you agree.

His grin widens, revealing sharp canine teeth. “Tell me you promise.”

His words trigger something indignant and outraged inside you. The speed with which your anxiety turns to anger takes you by surprise. It’s a moment before you’re able to speak around it.

“I. Promise.” You grit through your teeth.

“Good girl,” he says and lets you go.

You slide out from between him and the tree, putting a good ten feet of space between you both. He stays where he is and makes no move to come after you. You rub your aching wrists and stare him down.

“How did you know I was here?” You demand.

Hisoka sinks fluidly to the ground, propping one arm on his knee. “I got a tip from Kurapika, the hunter who hired you to spy on Chrollo. He and I have a temporary alliance, you see. He got nervous when you went silent after your last job and asked me to keep an eye out for you.”

It’s the most you’ve heard him speak at once. You didn’t expect him to actually answer. Even more surprising, he’s closer to your client than you are. You worked through an anonymous intermediary to keep their identity a secret. Now you know their name. Kurapika.

Hisoka goes on. “He gave me a basic rundown of your ability and suggested we may be able to communicate through my dreams without alerting the Troupe.” 

A cool breeze rustles through his red hair as you study him, trying to understand.

“That’s why you brought me the bedding.” You realize. “You knew I need to sleep to use my ability.”

“You didn’t think that was out of the kindness of my heart, did you?” He chuckles. The sound slithers unpleasantly across the surface of your skin. 

“So that show was for me?” You ask, gesturing toward the trees where he and the dream girl were entwined. 

He looks up at you through long dark lashes. “Why? Did you enjoy watching?”

Your hands ball involuntarily into fists. You could show him how much power you have here. You could give him a real nightmare. But no. Best to ignore his provocations. 

“What do you want from me?” You ask.

A deck of playing cards appears in his hands. He performs a spring flourish and then produces the Joker between two fingers. Maybe not a clown then. A magician? 

It is quiet for a long moment before he answers.

He tilts his head up to the night sky. “I want to fight the boss~”

You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. He seems caught up in his own imaginings. 

“But you’re a member of the Troupe?” Isn’t loyalty their whole schtick? Though, from what you’ve seen, there’s plenty of conflict between the members. 

“I had to find a way to get close to him.” He shrugs.

“You joined the Phantom Troupe just to fight Chrollo?” You push.

“Yes. But I haven’t had the chance. He’s never alone and he disappears as soon as the latest job is done.”

Does he know how strong Chrollo is? He can’t honestly think he stands a chance. Machi mentioned something about Hisoka going on kamikaze rampages. Is he suicidal, delusional, or actually that strong?

You’re not sure yet, but you have enough information to make your move.

“Chrollo wants my ability,” you tell him. His eyes snap to yours. “I know the conditions he needs to fulfill to steal it, but I’ll die before I give it to him. If you help me escape, he’ll come after you and you’ll get your chance to fight him.”

He watches you. You watch him. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt tension like this before. The air is thick with it. It feels difficult to breathe.

“Why does Chrollo want your ability?” He asks at last.

“I…” You falter. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t want me to be able to spy on him, but there was more. Something he kept me from seeing in the dream. I could feel that he had some sort of realization, but I couldn’t see what it was.”

It had been another unpleasant shock. No one has ever been able to hide something from you in their dreams. Even lucid dreamers don’t have that kind of control over their subconscious. Chrollo was entirely outside of the norm. 

You were woefully unprepared. 

“Hmm.” Hisoka places a card thoughtfully against his chin. “There’s something intriguing about the idea. But it’s taken me years to infiltrate the Spider. I had to kill a previous Troupe member to get in, you know. You want me to throw away all that progress just to save you?”

He’s the one who brought up the idea in the first place, and now he wants you to beg for it. Your pulse pounds violently in your temples. 

“If you hadn’t joined the Troupe, you wouldn’t have found me.” You remind him. “Now not only will you be taking something from Chrollo and provoking his wrath, I’ll repay you by using my ability on your behalf. I can spy on the Troupe for you. I can help you track down Chrollo so you can fight him.” 

He makes a show of considering. 

“For life.” He taps the card against his lips.

You feel cold. “Excuse me?”

He stands slowly, wiping away imaginary dust from his pants. “If I save you, you’ll repay me by using your ability on my behalf for the rest of your life. Or until I get bored with you. Whichever comes first.” His eyes twinkle with barely suppressed amusement.

That’s out of the question. What kind of deal is that? You’d be trading one cage for another. Though you current cage is likely to soon end in death by torture… And if you’re lucky, once Hisoka helps you escape you can slit his throat while he’s sleeping. The thought cheers you right up.

“Alright.” You decide. “We have a deal.”

Hisoka closes the distance between you and extends out his hand, the same way he did in the real world. A grinning devil offering a bargain. 

You place your hand in his and his fingers close around yours like a vice. It feels…final. 

“So,” You remove your hand from his and step away. “Do you have a plan to get me out? Nobunaga could come back with Uvo at any time. There are still three Troupe members to deal with and I can’t fight.”

“Of course~” He folds his arms across his chest. The muscles of his forearms are insane. Maybe he’s as strong as thinks he is.

“Are you going to tell me the plan?” You ask.

“That wouldn’t be any fun at all.”

You take a deep breath before answering. “I’m not looking for fun, Hisoka. I’m trying to get out of this alive.”

“Excellent.” His smile turns his eyes into half moons. “Then we’ll do both. Now how exactly do we wake up?”

It’s your turn to smile. “Like this.” You say, and mime pointing a gun at his face with your fingers. 

You pull the imaginary trigger and enjoy the split second of watching his eyes grow wide with surprise before his entire face disintegrates and the dream collapses around you both. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You don’t open your eyes. Now that you’re awake Feitan should wake up any second and Machi will find herself no longer tired. You don’t hear Hisoka move, so he must be playing it cool as well.

Maybe you were too hasty. You should have forced him to tell you what the plan was before ending the dream. But perhaps psychologically torturing your only ally wouldn’t have been a good idea. You sigh internally. What an exhausting man.

Before you can really work up to a good wallow, an explosion rips through the back wall of the Phantom Troupe’s base. You scramble to a sitting position, your back screaming in pain with the motion, and frantically scan the room for danger. The explosion fills the air with a thick haze of dust. 

You can make out a commotion through the clouds. Feitan and Shizuku are already fighting. Fighting what? You can’t see. Are those… people pouring in through the opening in the wall? You hear screaming and a cacophony of heavy wet thuds.

Machi is at your side in an instant, eyes darting between where you’re still sitting and the battle breaking out in the back of the room. 

Hisoka is suddenly behind you on one knee. The presence of his aura is so staggering you hardly notice as he wraps one arm around your waist and places a playing card to your throat. 

You wish the fear pounding through your veins was for show, but it isn’t. You can’t be sure of Hisoka. You can’t trust him. And out here in the real world he holds all the cards. He might decide to kill you.

“I’ve got her.” He assures Machi with a bored expression. “You can go sort out whatever this is.”

“You don’t want to fight?” Her eyes narrow. 

Hisoka snorts. “I have no interest in menial labor.”

She steps toward the chaos unfurling, but casts one more uneasy glance in his direction. That’s your queue to play damsel-in-distress. 

“Wait,” you shout. “Please don’t leave me with him!” It’s not difficult to infuse your words with the right amount of panic. You hardly have to fake it at all. Because even if this works, your reward is going to be a whole lot of one-on-one time with a psychopath in heels.

Her expression softens. She believes your fear. But as she lifts her foot to step away, something about Hisoka behind you draws her attention again. Whatever it is causes her to immediately drop into a fighting stance. She opens her mouth, but she is unable to make a sound.

 Machi has something covering her mouth. It’s aura, bright and pink. She stumbles back and claws at her mouth with both hands. 

Her eyes dart to you and then to Hisoka behind you. She can’t call for Feitan or Shizuku, but she can still use her Nen.

Machi’s threads appear quicker than your eyes can follow, darting through the air in your direction. There’s nothing you can do to avoid them and they wrap around you in a constricting net. She pulls the threads to separate you from Hisoka, but something goes wrong. 

Despite the strength of the threads around you, she can’t pull you any closer. You can feel the force of her threads pulling at you. They sink into your skin, burning you with the strength of her pulling. But you’re stuck where you are. 

You look down and see the bedding is covered in the same pink aura. You’re covered in it, stuck to the mattress pad which is itself stuck to the floor. You’re caught between white threads and pink glue, pulled violently in opposite directions, and for a moment you’re afraid you might actually be torn apart.

In the split second it takes Machi to realize what’s happened, Hisoka is behind her. She is already flying through the air by the time you register he’s sent a roundhouse kick squarely to the face.

Her body crashes against the far wall, cratering into the stone. And like something out of a cartoon, a massive concrete boulder from the newly created pile of rubble flies through the air after her, connected to her by a string of neon pink. Easily three times her size, the force of it smashes through the wall entirely, taking Machi with it.

Her stitches fall away from you, leaving deep red welts where they dug into your skin. He moved so quickly you didn’t see it happen. And the power behind that kick was terrifying. Did you just watch Machi die?

“That was a good act.” Hisoka says, standing before you with his hands on his hips. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you actually are afraid of me.” 

“Get me the fuck out of here.” You struggle weakly against the sticky pink aura holding you down, more for emphasis than a real attempt to get free. Your head is starting to ache.

When did he set all of that up? Were the blankets covered in his aura from the start? If so he must have used In to hide it from the Troupe. That would be insanely risky. Any of them could have seen it if they decided to use Gyo. Was it luck?

“Such a demanding hostage.” He sighs and in one smooth movement swings you up into his arms. “Who knew today would be so interesting?” 

Any other day you’d insist on walking yourself. Any other day you’d give him hell for thinking he can put his hands on you. But not today. Today you clutch at your arms around his neck with as much strength as you can muster and pray he won’t drop you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Hisoka is someone who strikes you as preferring to work alone. But not only is he connected to your client, he apparently has at least one other friend. 

With a speed that you are both frightened and envious of, Hisoka carries you out of the building, through a thick sheet of icy rain, and to a waiting sleek black vehicle. 

The rear door of the car opens and Hisoka deposits you inside before sliding in behind you. You find yourself sandwiched between Hisoka and a man with the most sinister aura you’ve ever felt. 

Where Hisoka’s aura nearly crackles with violent intent, this man’s aura is dark and smothering. He’s unnervingly still, almost doll-like in darkness. He’s as muscled up as Hisoka, though more serious, with dark hair that falls nearly to his waist. And his eyes…

Hisoka pulls the door shut and the car accelerates dramatically away from the scene.

“Hisoka.” A lifeless voice admonishes. “I nearly ran out of needle people. What took you so long?”

Hisoka laughs, warm and affectionate, as he leans back and throws one arm over the back of the seat. “I’m sorry, love. I was having fun.”

Love? Surely not. 

You’re finding it increasingly difficult to think around the pounding in your head and the stiffness in your back. The marks left on your skin by Machi’s strings are raw and stinging.

“This is the girl?” The man asks, tone dismissive.

The girl? When did Hisoka have time to tell him about you?

“The very one,” Hisoka says.

Realization strikes. You’ve been a fool. Hisoka already had a plan in place to take you from Chrollo before you ever laid eyes on him. Which means the bargain you struck was unnecessary and he knew it the entire time. He was toying with you. 

You shoot him an accusing look. The effort costs you, white spots momentarily cover your vision as you turn your neck. Hisoka merely closes his eyes and leans his head back on the headrest, a satisfied smile playing across his lips.

Fine. A bargain made under false pretenses doesn’t mean anything to you. And you’ve gotten what you wanted from him. Once these two have taken you far enough away, you’ll find a way to ditch them. In the meantime, you’ll take a moment to rest and do what you do best: spy.

“She is injured.” The man remarks. “Your orders were to retrieve her unharmed.”

“I’m fine,” You brush him off and stare daggers toward Hisoka. “Who is this?”

“Oh him?” Hisoka gazes at the man with the most obvious heart eyes you’ve ever seen. “This is my fiance.” 

Your jaw drops open in surprise. 

“My name is Illumi Zoldyck.” The man says and pulls out a cell phone. “Mission successful,” he speaks into the device. “Is the airship ready?”

Fiance. Zoldyck. The pounding in your head blossoms into a hot searing behind your eyes. This new situation has far, far too many implications to parse through. You’ve exchanged one dangerous group of Nen users for another. 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. You can’t help but feel that, no matter what happens now, you’re still totally and completely fucked.