ENTER: The Magician, and His Assistant. [ PreExam Hisoka x Reader ]

EPISODE NINE: Where x Killers x Belong

|CHAPTER NINE|

WHERE KILLERS BELONG

This is the place where the worst of the worst gather and take refuge under the colors above them. They're held together by the similarity that they each have nowhere to go aside from this giant facade. The serial killer who used to slice up children with knives is the dagger master. The twins that strangled their parents now wrap their bodies in aerial silks. The confectionist always had a penchant for rat poison. The contortionist would break the bones of the animals she watched before being arrested. The ringleader is the one who brings them all together, purposefully seeking out these unsavory types for his own pleasure of a grand, perverted show. The ringleader enjoys his own sport of manipulation. The magician is perhaps the worst, but restrained for now. He has the worst inclination to moral deviation, and the most complex mind of incomprehensible intelligence. His younger sister is the only innocent among them, and as long as she is unharmed, he is contained. However, there is a new pawn on the board he's also taken a liking to, adding an element of unpredictability.

Hisoka knelt before a crumpled form beneath the tightropes. He wasn't the first to discover the cadaver, and not the last to disregard it. A deadly chill wafted through the warm tent, the stares of many troupe members directed down at the mottled skin decorating the familiar troupe member. The air became charged with anger, betrayal, and suspicion. Despite the ill morals the troupe possessed, they for the most part were deeply loyal to one another. The death, no, killing, of a member was damnable. The body was a sign that the circus was no longer a safe haven for anyone. A clear line had been crossed and now the troupe was beginning to divide into fractions in the name of safety.

Personally, he felt unaffected by the sight before him. He truly did not care for the performers that took him in or raised him, he only felt loyal to his sister. Due to this feeling of apathy, he was able to further examine the body for clues.

His pointed nails crept towards the shirt of the female, lifting it to assess the blunt force trauma along the torso. The sight gave him goosebumps, a thrill. The damage was considerable, but it did not scare him. The idea of such a strong person aroused his interest, who did it? He stifled his excitement in favor of considering the threat to Himiko, who was his first priority. His pale yellow eyes flicked back to the lumpy skin, the skin swollen from internal damage. From what he could tell by the lividity settling at the base of the torso and appendages, the body had been here for a few hours.

He pressed a finger to the muddy purple coloring setting in, and when he pulled it away, the color remained set. So the body was there for at least twelve hours. It made sense, the body was in peak rigor.

The light around him shifted as troupe members moved around, some disturbed at his lack of reaction, and the others ready to accuse him of the death itself. The light bounced off of his predatory eyes, giving the impression that the yellow was glowing. It was eerie to the rest, to see the young boy kneeling over the body, eyes still gleaming and a smirk ever present.

Hisoka's hand travelled over the torso, feeling where the body swelled and caved in. The ribs were decimated. He decided the mechanism of death was perhaps the ribs impaling the heart, or the failure of organs all at once as they were destroyed. Maybe even suffocation, for the lips were tinged with blue and the eyes were bulging. There was no blood except for the liquid leaking from the nose, a result of decomposition.

Alright. He hummed, eyes darting up to scan the crowd. So who is here, and who is not?

The lingering members froze under his analytical gaze as he gave them each a penetrating stare. The lean woman, Moxi, clutching at her collarbones with disgust. Pearson was behind her, staring at Hisoka with disdain and a scowl. The clown was sucking his teeth, grimacing at the painful sight. The acrobatic twins were whispering among themselves. Luckily, Himiko was not in the main tent to witness the sight. He already knew Himiko was not the culprit behind this, for she was small and had no Nen ability. Though the rest of the troupe did, but he doubted half of them had the actual ability to harness it in this manner.

He released the anxious troupe members from his gaze as he looked back at the body. Hisoka's brows lifted as he looked closer, finding that the bruises were almost twin markings. Gauging the length of each breakage, he determined it was caused by two identical forces. It wasn't yet clear if it was a physical weapon or summoned to him yet. But as the redheaded boy processed further, it almost seemed like the objects were trying to get through the body, like it was in the way of them connecting...

Like the objects were attracted to each other.

Like magnets.

A small realization struck him, and upon sensing another approaching presence, his sharp eyes snapped to the ringleader. The imposing silhouette was stood behind the rest of the members, visage shadowed by the dim lighting. Though he couldn't see the eyes of the ringleader, Moritonio, he knew they were engaged in eye contact.

Smirking to himself, he stood up and strode away from the body with a lackadaisical air. Some scoffed at his casual, even disrespectful, attitude.

"Well?" Moxi butted in, stepping in Hisoka's path in an attempt to be assertive. "You spent a lot of time looking at her. What did you find?"

Hisoka moved his eyes off of Moritonio's tensing form, shifting them to Moxi's thin frame. "We have a serial killer going by the name of Hundred-Face John Doe, correct?"

Without waiting for confirmation, Hisoka continued, circling the crowd.

"The deaths started right after we moved here to Gas Glam. I think it's safe to say that our serial killer is the same one that just murdered our poor juggler. I believe it is also a safe assumption to say that the killer is also among our ranks, seeing that they had access to this area." He kept his theory short, though knowing the real culprit. Hisoka didn't want to expose them yet. "Our serial killer has the ability to change his face. It will be difficult to ascertain a definite suspect."

Moritonio's aura has the ability to take on the properties of magnetism. He uses steel plates in his boots to seal himself to the steel poles in the ceiling to perform his 'Sky Walking' technique... Again, Hisoka's excitement grew. Perhaps that is only half of his power. He must be hiding another side to his Nen. A fighting side.

Hisoka walked out of the main tent during his musing, leaving the troupe to ponder his words. The redheaded teenager scanned his surroundings, locating Himiko on the outside practice rope. The young girl was practicing her handstands on the rope, walking across it on her palms, an expression of determination clear on her visage. Sweat covered her forehead in a light sheen, signalling she had been practicing the move for most of the day now.

He lingered in the distance, allowing his mind to wander now. Now that he was out of the sight of the troupe, he let his expression fall into a flat line. The bubbles of battlelust that had built up began to fizzle out as he began to dissect the situation a little further. Moritonio was clearly putting the troupe in danger despite being the one who always wanted to protect it, and despite desperately wanting to see it crumble, it was the only place Hisoka had. It was the only place Himiko had. If he wanted to keep this place a little longer, he would have to disregard Moritonio's actions.

"There's no place like home, after all," Hisoka murmured to himself, smirking once again. "Why lose it now?"

Really, as long as no one he cared about was being affected, why should he care about who dies in this circus?

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