Killer in Hunter x Hunter

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***

John Bellew.

Damn that Bellamy! He hit his guitar so hard his whole body hurts. I'm lucky I'm not deaf and that music shop didn't have the most powerful speakers, or I'd have got a lot more than that. I know him, and I know how powerful his booth can be under the right conditions. With the right speakers, he can tear a man to shreds with his sound. And I heard it happen once. When fighting him, a guy somehow managed to get between two big speakers and ended up being turned into a bloody mess. Although I've heard Bellamy doesn't really enjoy doing that himself.

I'd planned to go to the hospital first, or I might have something serious, like a fracture or a crack, but I decided I'd just lie at home. See if it goes away. And besides, if I can still walk, I shouldn't worry too much. In case of emergency, I can go and get checked out tomorrow.

I learnt a lesson from today that I should always be alert and not relax. And you should not play with your opponents either, or you'll be distracted by it, and then some shit might happen on the side, and you might even die as a result.

I finally got home. Now I want to go to my room and just collapse on my bed and rest, but I'm even more hungry. I think that's why I went to the cafe today, but that's what happened.

Fucking Bellamy! I wish I knew why he hates us so much. He hated us as soon as we formed, he joined the organisation and found out about us. What's his reason for this attitude? My reason is that he hates us, well, and also a little jealous that their unit has a better life than we do. What's his reason? I think there's definitely something to it. He can't just hate us like that.

Pulling on the doorknob I walk into the kitchen and observe that slightly pessimistic look again. A shabby sofa opposite an old tube TV, slightly shabby wallpaper on the walls, and flies flying around the room. In general, everything is quite poor, grey and dull, but money is enough only for such accommodation, so you have to put up with it all.

Oh, yeah, and of course, there's the smell. It's not the smell of food or rubbish, it's something else I can't stand. It's the smell of cigarette smoke.

- Fucking hell, Huxell! You're fuming in the kitchen again!

- Come on, John,' he says to me, lying on the sofa watching TV. - It's just a bit of a smoke.

- How many times have I told you to smoke outside! Or at least if you're too lazy to get your arse up and down, you can stick your head out of the window and smoke like that. But I don't want to smell any more smoke in the kitchen! Go on, get out of here.

- You're a pain in the arse.

He got up from the sofa and went to the window, opening it and smoking by it. And now I have to use air freshener to get rid of that nasty smell.

This guy's one of our Elimination Squad, Huxell. He's the kind of smoker you'd expect to find. Almost every time I see him, he's smoking. Sometimes I think he does it in his sleep. He used to smoke almost everywhere: at meals, in front of the telly, in the loo. Soon everyone got sick of it and we banned it on the whole floor, except for his room. But sometimes he forgets to do it. Or should I say he forgets, as in this case.

In fact, his smoking has seriously affected his appearance. He and I are about the same age, but he looks 40! Or even older.

He wears a long coat, with slightly dirty trousers. On his head he has, surprisingly, quite nice ashy hair that has taken on a slightly standing position, with a drooping quiff over his right eye.

I guess if he didn't smoke so much, he could be a handsome young bloke.

Since Huxell is now sitting by the window, it's me on the sofa.

Oh, it feels good after such a long day. I can finally relax and unwind.

Shit, I came here to make a meal, but at the same time the desire to lie on the couch is unreal. In that case, I'm going to rest for a while, and then I'll get up and cook something. We can watch TV for now.

Meanwhile, the TV is showing the local news. Expectedly, it's the one with the most discussion of Bellamy and me fighting in the cafe. They're showing the aftermath of what we did there. I wonder if they still have the CCTV footage. Even if they did, they'd have been destroyed anyway. The Passione's quick to hush up cases like this if they involve their members.

Oh, come on! They got off easy. This battle could have easily escalated to such a scale that this cafe and a couple of nearby buildings could have been completely destroyed. They'd be nothing but rubble. So it went pretty... mildly?

- That was quite a mess you made, John,' came a slightly cheerful voice behind me. - I'd have loved to be a part of it myself! Did you enjoy it yourself?

There he is. That smile that rarely slipped off his face, his cheerful and carefree mood, and his slightly dorky look. He used to annoy me, but now I'm almost used to him. Another member of the Elimination Squad. His name is Greg Gunn.

- First of all, I didn't like it one bit. Secondly, I didn't do it. Bellamy provoked me, although I did attack first. Thirdly, you can go fuck yourself.

- Hmm. Bellamy? Not surprising, because that fucking guitarist, as far as I know, is the most disliked of his squad. He's got a bit of a rivalry with Patrick.

- What about Hughes? - Huxell asked. - What reason would he have for hating us?

- He's got some principles or beliefs that we don't quite fit into. At least that's what I've heard. I haven't met him myself, of course, to be sure. God forbid, cos some people say he's a bit of a scumbag.

- You're no better. - I said.

- I'm no better?! At least I've got a good sense of humour. Here, check this out.

Greg reached into his pocket, but as soon as he did, he pulled out a needle and threw it at me. Unfortunately for him, I caught it easily between two fingers, and with even more speed, without even aiming, I turned it around and threw it back at him. Greg didn't even notice it before it went into his nose, causing him to scream.

- Whoa! That fucking hurt! Why in the nose?!

- Don't even think about competing with me in throwing,' I said calmly, but with a note of menace in my voice. - You don't stand a chance here. And if it happens again, there's a good chance I'll break your finger.

- It was just a joke! If you're not in the mood, you should have said so.

A little offended by me, Greg took an apple from the fridge and sat down at the table and ate it slowly.

Wow... sometimes he can really piss me off. Greg can be a bit of a jerk in some ways, but at the same time he's definitely not a total jerk. He likes to have fun, he likes to act silly sometimes, but he's far from an idiot. His potty mouth is pretty good at times.

As I tried to calm down a little after Greg's joke, my stomach rumbled and I remembered I'd been hungry for a while. I got up from the couch, walked over and opened the fridge and found that in addition to the snacks, there was a pot of soup in the fridge that was less than half full. That's great, so I don't have to cook anything, just heat up the soup.

Taking some snacks out of the fridge and putting the soup on the cooker, I sat down on the table next to Greg and waited for dinner to be ready. It was barely a minute before another member of the squad entered the kitchen, and the atmosphere became more sombre.

- I was walking around town and came across something interesting. I think you know what I mean. I understand John got into a fight with someone and left some dirt behind. Well, I wish I'd been there.

- Well, what would you have done? - I asked. - I fought Bellamy, and I don't think he's a match for you. In an open fight and with no training like I had today, you wouldn't stand much of a chance.

- Don't underestimate me~. - he stretched out a little fearfully and sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV.

Yeah... if with Greg the atmosphere had been light-hearted and a bit cheerful, then with his arrival everything went dark. As it always does.

Another member of the Elimination Squad, Mike O'Jim. He and Greg are complete opposites. Whereas Greg usually comes across as a cheerful and carefree guy with slightly... odd tendencies, Mike is the complete opposite. He's always gloomy, his gaze makes you uncomfortable, and the atmosphere he creates around him is a bit overpowering. Although with time you can get used to it, like we did.

And he looks the same. Black cloak with trousers of the same colour, black long straight hair, and a pale face. When I look at him, I associate him with some kind of Satanist or necromancer. And his character is more or less the same. He's such a gloomy type. He should move to a cemetery and it would be a complete set.

A few minutes later, the soup was fully heated and I was finally able to eat properly. At this point Mike, apparently tired of just watching TV, decided to have a little chat.

- Tell me... what do you think about Passione's activities?

- Explain. - Huxell said.

- I'll be blunt. I think that Passione as a criminal organisation is very unusual. I mean, we don't deal in drugs. Why not? It could be a good income, but our bosses refuse to do it. That's very strange for a criminal organisation, don't you think?

- Yeah, you're right about that. It is a bit odd for a criminal organisation. What do you think?

- It sounds good,' Greg told him. - Well, why? We could make more money, while cleaning up the gene pool from all the rubbish. And it'd be fun to watch the druggies go scrap!

...Greg is as usual. Although it's possible he's joking again.

- So, what about you? - Huxell came to me.

- Me? I don't know. I guess I'm more against it. I don't enjoy watching junkies. It's a bit disgusting to see people so badly degraded. Spiritually weak people who have not found the strength to fight against the difficulties of life and decided to go to all hell and destroy it finally, plunging into this abyss, from which it is very difficult to get out. On the one hand they will sooner or later die in some back alley from an overdose, but I think let them not appear at all. I'm of that opinion. What about you?

- I don't give a damn. What they are, what they are not, society has always been, is and will be full of sick and dangerous people. Drug addicts just add to them. If there's no drugs, there'll be some other crap that will kill people. Either physically or spiritually. Or maybe both.

He does have a point.

- So, for the most part, no one's against it? - Mike asked. - Then how would you like to take the reins?

- What?! - Greg jumped up and down in his chair in surprise. - Are you crazy?

- Well, what? We'd make better leaders than these weaklings. Besides, I think you're all as sick of this life as I am. We certainly deserve better.

- Listen to me,' Greg jumped up from his chair and walked over to Mike. - We can both talk about completely crazy things, but the difference is that for me, they're often just jokes. I may have some unusual tendencies, but I'm not some kind of psycho. And the idea of becoming the bosses of Passione myself remains a fantasy to me, because I realise that going up against the bosses is suicide. You still remember a year ago, don't you? Let me remind you. Your little brother, who was in the same team with us, had a piss in his head and started to do something, which was soon found out by the bosses. And guess what? They found him in a church, turned inside out! I'm sorry, but I don't want to do the same thing to him.

- So you're okay with this life?

- No, I'm not happy with it, but it's still better than what I had before. We're paid a pittance, but it's the best option. Leaving the organisation and starting a normal life is not an option. Even if we somehow manage to leave Passione in a zinc coffin, there's little prospect of a law-abiding life. With our past, I doubt we'd even be accepted as caretakers, but here we have something to live on. Besides, Passione gives us some protection. If we start living a normal life, there's a chance we'll get caught again. I'm sorry, but I don't want to go back to prison.

It's been quiet for a while.

Not all of us want to go back to our past. A past in which a series of events happened that landed us all in prison.

Yes, it's true. Every member of the Elimination Squad is an ex-convict. They all have different reasons why they ended up in prison, but it's that past that has had such a profound effect on our present.

It may feel like denying it, but that's probably the problem. Because we've all been in prison, we have no credibility. And really, who in their right mind would trust something important and responsible to a person from whom you can expect anything. After all, such a person has already committed a crime once and most likely will not be afraid to do it again. You expect more meanness from such a person than from others.

The fact that we've been in prison is a favour to Passion. Because people like us have nothing to gain in civilian life. No one would hire a man like us, not even the most miserable jobs. Passione takes advantage of this and pays us very little money because they know we have no choice. It's either poverty in the civilian labour force or prison again. That's why we have to put up with this attitude.

That's why they call us chain dogs. As offensive as it is, it's stupid to deny it. We are chain dogs.

And that's what makes us jealous of the Specialisation Squad.

Those damn Passione's favourites... I don't know why, but there's something special about them. Although it's stupid to deny that they are special. They get more, they live better, and most importantly... they're all bench users. That's the main difference between our squads, by the way. The Specialisation Squad is made up of only Stand users, while our squad is made up of only Nen users.

What is a booth? To tell the truth, it's hard to say, because I first learned about it when I first encountered one of the Specialisation Squad. It's this kind of strange power that expresses itself as a spiritual object or something that you can't see without Nen's concentration in your eyes. At first I thought it was such a Nen ability, but I soon realised that the nature of this power is completely different. Stand users are a bit more difficult to fight than anyone else, but with proper skill, you can manage.

To make a long story short, here's how things stand with our squad.

In the meantime, the silence had broken and Mike spoke again.

- Greg... don't you dare mention my brother to me again. You know I don't like him.

- But he was your brother. How can you treat him like that? - Huxell tried to soften him up a little.

- He was an idiot, who not only did a stupid thing, but also could not realise it properly. I never gave a damn about that man. He was nothing to me. If we ever do decide to go into action, I won't screw up like this loser.

That's the reason everyone dislikes Mike, even though he's a teammate. He doesn't care about family ties. In fact, the hardest thing to say is what he cares about. Nobody knows.

I feel in my gut that a conflict is coming. We should definitely do something, because Greg will probably want to say something back to Mike, and it could end badly.

I was about to get up and intervene when there was the sound of a door opening, and everyone looked in the direction of it. The atmosphere changed instantly.

- Gentlemen, I realise that this topic is very important to all of us, but let's not quarrel. We're a team. - his voice was quite soft and a little soothing.

By his mere presence, he was able to nip the conflict in the bud. His opinion counts for everything. He is our main authority. Not out of fear, but purely out of respect, we all listen to him.

Our squad leader is Alan Lake. Not so much a leader as a good friend to all of us. He maintains warm relations with all of us, helps us with our problems if possible, and at the same time he is a very competent leader. It's only thanks to him that we haven't been at each other's throats so far. We all respect Alan.

- I'm sorry Alan,' Mike apologised sincerely. - I just had a little bit of a problem.

- It's no big deal. It happens to all of us on a regular basis. I completely understand, but still... try to hold back.

He walks into our kitchen with a smile on his face. Only, unlike Greg, it's a much nicer smile.

Curiously, Alan is the youngest of us. He is only twenty years old, but he still has outstanding leadership qualities.

He is a tall guy of slightly skinny build who is almost always dressed in a short-sleeved shirt decorated with various designs of flowers. On his head he has beautiful medium length blonde hair.

Honestly, sometimes I wonder what he's even doing here with us. We're just a bunch of freaks compared to him. He could put some make-up on his face and be on the cover of a fashion magazine.

- Have you heard about what John did? - Greg turned to Alan.

- I saw it. It wasn't pretty, but at least the damage could have been greater. So let's just forget about it.

Alan's words clearly had an uplifting effect on everyone. Everyone went about their business, and I was the only one left sitting at the kitchen table, but Alan quickly came over to me.

- Tell me more about it. What happened there? - he asked me, looking at my face.

- Well, I got into a fight, as you can imagine. It was Bellamy. He provoked me and a fight broke out. I almost beat him, but then the kid intervened.

- A kid?

- Yeah, it was some teenage kid, about 16 or so. He wanted to interfere for some reason and stopped me from finishing Bellamy. The fight went on with him from there. He wasn't a serious threat, but I decided to play with him and ended up playing with him a little too much, which I paid for by getting hit by Bellamy's powerful attack.

- I can see it in you. You can stand on your feet though, so you're all right, aren't you?

- Yeah, I'm fine. But then the worst thing happened. I bumped into one of the lieutenants in the alley. That one-eyed prick!

- So Kurapika Kuruta? - Alan's face changed slightly and his eyes lit up. - So what's next?

- Well... Then he accused me of all the deadly sins and made me beg for forgiveness standing on my knee.

Alan's face was now clearly showing anger, albeit a little anger.

- Well, that was to be expected from a moral freak like him. But know this, John,' he put his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. - I'm sure this will all be over soon. Those bastards won't have long to look down on us. They'll answer for everything. For all the humiliation they've done to us.

What? What's he talking about? Is this a joke?

- Are you trying to start a rebellion? - I asked cautiously, to which he only smiled.

- It's too early to take any action, but know this... there's not much left.

- Sorry to interrupt you, - suddenly sounded the voice of Huxell, who came to us with a laptop in his hands. - It's just that we have a new order. - he handed the laptop to Alan.

Indeed a new order had come in. Elimination, as usual. They want us to take out some big bloke who apparently didn't realise who he was dealing with. Suspected location is a local nightclub. Interesting.

- I could get into it. - I turned to Alan.

- Don't,' he immediately objected. - You've been through a lot today. You have tomorrow off. You should rest and recuperate.

- What about the mission? Greg and Mike could easily do a massacre for fun, and Huxell's abilities aren't designed for stealth killing.

- I'll handle this one.

- You? Are you sure?

- Yeah, don't worry, it won't be a problem for me.

I don't doubt it, it's just a bit sudden. All right, I'll do as he sees fit. I really should get some rest.

Taking the laptop, Alan went to his room, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

Something about Alan seemed unusual to me today. I didn't quite know what it was. He also talked about something resembling a rebellion. What exactly did he mean by that? He's not really going to rebel against the boss, is he? Against the boss and seven lieutenants. That's completely insane. Although.

Deep down, I'd probably like that myself. We're all sick of being humiliated by these bastards who call themselves lieutenants. Bunch of arrogant pricks who are boss Passione's personal retinue. They say they're very strong, but we're not suckers either. I know that for a fact.

That's okay. One day the time will come and we'll get what we deserve.

They all have to pay. And they will.