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Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM OKAY
Summary: Lancia and the Kokuyo trio when they were ten or so; short drabble - the time Lancia was almost free.
Warnings: Nothing direct, implied mass murder
The country manors were always the easier targets.
Anyone else would've called it the more suicidal target; someplace away from a city, with less traffic and whatever few people that lived around being ones conditioned to not ask questions, meant much more freedom for security of the sketchier kind; meant trespassers tended to disappear with little more than the locals shaking their heads and pretending they'd seen nothing.
It also meant a much slower reaction time from any legal authorities, and fewer random bystanders in the way; a situation where there was no worry about who might see what and react, sometimes enough time to hole up in the ruins of the aftermath afterwards without much fear of being disturbed.
In this case, something had caught fire; they'd ended up in a ruin on the edge of the grounds while the main manor burned, already gutted of any survivors, although the fire had spread too fast for more than a cursory grab-and-run for supplies. Not enough to eat well, but enough to have a meal and some to stash; they'd gotten through it relatively unharmed, to boot. For most of that night, it had been three gangly ten year olds in a pile of blankets, while one sullen adult sat curled in the entrance to the crumbled room, as much to distance himself in shell-shock as to stand watch.
That had lasted until a helicopter came in to land - Varia subordinates, smart enough to fan out over the area and converge in when they hit a problem; not any of the higher-ranking members, just a cursory investigation, but even subordinates were deadly.
Much later, the last one went down with an outburst of Lightning flame, something that spread across the ruin around the steel ball that ended the source. It drove Lancia to one knee, and on glancing up, had knocked the kids into the wall, hard. Chikusa was just picking himself up, and there was a pathetic mewl from Ken in back, still down -
Mukuro was maybe six feet away, on the ground next to the wall he'd hit, unmoving; still alive, but only half conscious.
He picked up the steel ball, mentally testing - no sense of a wall, no block to push against; the other two were down themselves.
It could all be over - he could be free of it all - in one shot; how many people had he already killed, and how many more would end up dead?
The 'good' blue eye opened, still dazed; a concussion, something where it might be some time before he had his mental feet back under him - there was an odd moment of recognition, some sort of resigned acceptance, with no other reaction. There was a flicker of movement to the side - Chikusa, frozen, watching.
As deadly as they were, they were still kids; his stomach lurched unpleasantly, and the weapon dropped out of his hands.
Summary: Lancia and the Kokuyo trio when they were ten or so; short drabble - the time Lancia was almost free.
Warnings: Nothing direct, implied mass murder
The country manors were always the easier targets.
Anyone else would've called it the more suicidal target; someplace away from a city, with less traffic and whatever few people that lived around being ones conditioned to not ask questions, meant much more freedom for security of the sketchier kind; meant trespassers tended to disappear with little more than the locals shaking their heads and pretending they'd seen nothing.
It also meant a much slower reaction time from any legal authorities, and fewer random bystanders in the way; a situation where there was no worry about who might see what and react, sometimes enough time to hole up in the ruins of the aftermath afterwards without much fear of being disturbed.
In this case, something had caught fire; they'd ended up in a ruin on the edge of the grounds while the main manor burned, already gutted of any survivors, although the fire had spread too fast for more than a cursory grab-and-run for supplies. Not enough to eat well, but enough to have a meal and some to stash; they'd gotten through it relatively unharmed, to boot. For most of that night, it had been three gangly ten year olds in a pile of blankets, while one sullen adult sat curled in the entrance to the crumbled room, as much to distance himself in shell-shock as to stand watch.
That had lasted until a helicopter came in to land - Varia subordinates, smart enough to fan out over the area and converge in when they hit a problem; not any of the higher-ranking members, just a cursory investigation, but even subordinates were deadly.
Much later, the last one went down with an outburst of Lightning flame, something that spread across the ruin around the steel ball that ended the source. It drove Lancia to one knee, and on glancing up, had knocked the kids into the wall, hard. Chikusa was just picking himself up, and there was a pathetic mewl from Ken in back, still down -
Mukuro was maybe six feet away, on the ground next to the wall he'd hit, unmoving; still alive, but only half conscious.
He picked up the steel ball, mentally testing - no sense of a wall, no block to push against; the other two were down themselves.
It could all be over - he could be free of it all - in one shot; how many people had he already killed, and how many more would end up dead?
The 'good' blue eye opened, still dazed; a concussion, something where it might be some time before he had his mental feet back under him - there was an odd moment of recognition, some sort of resigned acceptance, with no other reaction. There was a flicker of movement to the side - Chikusa, frozen, watching.
As deadly as they were, they were still kids; his stomach lurched unpleasantly, and the weapon dropped out of his hands.
