Meanwhile...
The sky was was a dusky gray, as the bright rays of the sun bid goodbye to York New, and the white tendrils of the moon rippled across the tips of the skyscrapers. The sky was peaceful, the transition between day to night so pristine and routine that no one batted an eye as it happened. But down below, in the hidden crevices of the poorly laid concrete resided many threats.
Threat is a relative term, and truly, it depends all on perspective. Who is being preyed upon, and who is doing the preying, or in some cases- the praying.
Machi said tentatively, "Boss, we need to go, we have that fucking clown to take care of, as well as the work stealing-" Chrollo sighed exhaustedly, cutting her off. She winced, recounting her error. He stood unmoving before the altar of the four headed entity, its eight half- lidded eyes prompting goosebumps to rise across Machi's skin. A soft, oddly soothing voice slithered out from the man prostrated before his third favorite shrine. His back was hunched, his fur coat tight around his muscles back, his hair loose, framing his head like a halo. Finally, he spoke, his gentle voice so foggily indistinct, that many of those who met him, forgot how he sounded almost immediately. "You know I hate the way you wield that word, Machi. You are welcome to use it..."He whispered, his head still bent, his back to her. She nodded curtly, remembering how he chastised her before for the way she said stealing as of it was simple verb. To him, stealing is a lifestyle, a religion of you will. to many of the troupe it is. But to machi is was just, well, stealing. "Right, I apologize captain." She said sincerely, while loading her glock Pakunoda gifted her with. He sighed and rose to his feet, turning around. His indecipherable gray eyes surveyed her. "So be it then, I will finish my session another time. Let us steal from the Belmonts and acquire our destiny." Machi nodded with satisfaction as they exited his bloodstained chapel.
The half the troupe awaited their leader directly outside the door, the other half already gone. Pakunoda, Nobunaga, Machi, and Feitan. The rest had already departed. The group split up as Chrollo gave minimal directions on how exactly they'd relieve the remaining Belmonts of their heads. Hisoka was in no condition to participate in this mission. Chrollo preferred to utilize Hisoka when they had much to gain and little to lose. Chrollo enjoyed Hisoka and found him to be greatly amusing, even when he was off his rocker, (which nowadays- he always is). What's more is, Chrollo couldn't help but feel a bit of kinship for him as a Troupe member, whether it be temporary or permanent- he was still one of them. Chrollo also had other more threatening interests regarding Hisoka.
But then again, threat is relative.
~
"Mmmm yesss love, just uhnnn, just like, ahhhhhh..." Hisoka moaned throatily as he ground his crotch onto the cool metal pole. His body was covered in a shimmering layer of iridescent body paint, his long member slung in a skimpy lavender thong. His muscles rippled as he kissed and murmed intelligible words to the pole, which he'd affectionately named y/n.
His sensual, lethargic movements enraptured those who watched. His plump pink lips stretched into a blissful smile as his shimmering eyelids lowered. The crowd that wasn't to drunk or high to stand up properly roared their approval, and threw stacks of money to him, which to him, looked like the fluttering wings of his wife's nen. his cherry red tongue slithered out and wrapped around the pole as his eyes lay turned upward. "Unnnnngh those pretty frippits flying softly..." he murmed as his eyes tracked the money. His firey hair framed his strong jaw, and honeyed smile. His wide hips, thick thighs, and thin waist, shook as he laughed and gave the pole a blow job, deciding that's what y/n would like tonight. Y/n must really love him, to stay on that stage and let him touch her every night, he thought.
Those in audience who weren't already kissing or sucking someone began masturbating to his dance, the banging music drowning out their eager moans. the flashing strobe lights illuminated the debauchery below. The DJ smiled as she gazed at Hisoka, her heart speeding up at Hisoka's display. She glanced away, remembering her duties. The loud rhythms bounced within the soundproof walls and infected the minds of these people. Though, how infected can a man's mind become, if it's already rotting away?
His eyelashes thickend with slight makeup, and he batted them at the pole, circling it. His eyes were so heavily dilated from the cocktail of multiple illegal substances he was on- to the point where his amber irises were almost completely obscured by his dark, sorrowful pupils. His aura was thick with both regret and unhinged pleasure as his mind blended both dream and reality. The audience noticed not the regret or sorrow, coating Hisoka Morrow like a blanket, no, they only noticed his fat ass, beautiful smile, and charming movements. They noticed only what the chose to, like we all do.
He laughed at nothing and everything as he clicked his heels and pirouetted around the pole, the center of it all. The other dancers' jealously was palpabake as their coworker stole the attention and money from them all over again. He took no notice, as he was far too embedded in his own world of swirling dreams and nightmares. His throat bobbed as he threw his head back and grinned. He levitated slightly as hung from a string of bungee gum, invisible to those currently in the audience. "Mmm y/n how you love me so, mmmhmm ahahahhhahaha, they all love us so..." he cackled as he threw his damp thong to the rabid hordes below him. They snarled at one another, Gucci suits and Chanel dresses torn and spat on as the audience themselves apart trying to just touch this man's underwear. If it weren't for the bars surrounding the stage, they would've tried to touch him too. They too were both high and drunk, using this club and the services it provided as an escape. Many still tried to touch their god, sticking their eager outstretched hands to touch the oddly fascinating man before them. They were all hypnotized and none quite knew why. Such is the charm of Hisoka Morrow, it seems. Such is the charm of a ethereal man who shared their sorrow.
Though there were some who were far from charmed. Those other dancers who'd been mostly forgotten felt much rage. So much so that some even plotted revenge. But none acted on it. This is so because once they realized Hisoka's onstage demeanor is no act, they realized he truly is insane. Thus they let him be out of fear, and chose to whisper behind his back instead. Often, they watched for the past few weeks with confusion as the same unsettling man came to fetch Hisoka every morning without fail.
~
Chrollo, Feitan, Pakunoda, and Nobunaga had already killed the Belmonts that were present in York New. The rest of the troupe had traveled to France to raid the now empty and unprotected sprawling Belmont estate. Dawn was beginning to peek through the clouds and Chrollo sighed, nonchalantly wiping the blood from his hands, using his specially embroidered cloth. "That went quite well, everyone, well done. The details will be sent to you soon, though Machi and I must fetch our number four.." They all nodded respectfully and walked away with a bit of chatter between them. Nobunaga grumbled about Hisoka while Pakunoda listened intently, nodding in silent agreement. Machi's exhausted face was twisted into a scowl as Chrollo and her began walking toward Mollie. Machi, as always, drove while Chrollo contemplated nothingness in the back. Machi cut through the silence and asked worriedly, "Boss, is it okay to pick him up with blood all over our clothes? All those people..." Chrollo smiled as his eyes meandered from the horizon to Machi's back. "Those people, my sister, are too inebriated or too high on sin to truly realize who we are and what we've done" Chrollo responded gently, his amiable tone juxtaposing the horrors he's committed. Machi grumbled and continued, "Alright fine let's go get your fucking pet." Chrollo chuckled, but he didn't correct her. "Let's remember we are getting paid quite well, Machi, and do our job." Chrollo cooed. Machi huffed and gripped the wheel, her knuckles blooming white.
They pulled up wordlessly to the club, and no vallet service came to help them, as they've already established that Machi stays in the car while Chrollo retrieves the star stripper. The staff stay far away from Hisoka if at all possible and pray that this mysterious phantom of a man kept fetching Hisoka and his earnings as soon as possible after his shift. It was 5am, thus, as he walked in the crowd was thinning and much of the staff looked just as exhausted as the former partiers who littered the floor like trash. No, Not trash, Chrollo thought- as trash in Meteor City gave material for home, for weapons, or inspiration. "These people are less than..." Chrollo mumbled aloud as he slipped past the drunken stars, producers, models, etc. And into the back room where Hisoka was. Chrollo could feel Hisoka's suffocating aura from far away, but as he neared he almost gagged at the sheer strength. "Helloooooo!" Hisoka called out as he rose, naked from a pool of his own vomit backstage. "Hello Hisoka, have you behaved for me?" Chrollo whispered kindly as he approached Hisoka, like he was approaching a injured, rabid fox. Hisoka smiled blissfully and whispered, "I killed not a single wingle soul, Honeysock, even though I realllly wanted wanted wanted wanted wanted... eaten curtains..." Hisoka's red brows furrowed and his golden eyes dimmed as he lost his train of thought. Chrollo chuckled and began, "Well why didn't you?" He watched Hisoka's fatigued and pale face contort as he murmured, "I didn't want to." Chrollo bent down and crouched before Hisoka. He smiled softly and whispered "Well you know, I like it when human scum perish." Hisoka's thick bottom lip quivered, and his lashes became heavy with tears. "But the bunny-" Hisoka began before Chrollo cut him off. "Your bunny is dead" Chrollo said happily, knowing full well what lies he spewed.
Hisoka began bawling, as he shivered and shook his head. Chrollo sighed as he began cleaning Hisoka up, his gentle hands caressing Hisoka's muscles. "You kill for me, every day" Chrollo mused. "You're a mean mommy..." Hisoka mumbled back. Chrollo pinched Hisoka's legs as he slipped clean underwear onto Hisoka's long legs. Chrollo smiled gently and whispered, "I'm mean? Do you think your precious bunny likes predators? You're a predator, Hisoka. Like me. Like my family. Like us. You're a monster." Hisoka began crying and his body shook as he repeated, "n-not true! I'm- I'm- I'm- you're a terribly awfully horrible mommy! I'm not a f-fox! I am, I am, no no blood..." Hisoka was on the verge of completely disintegrating until Chrollo's large owl- like orbs widened and he promised, "you're my family, I like monsters. We love monsters." Hisoka's face brightened and he whispered, "I- I'm a monster too. Bunny left." Chrollo smiled and stood up. He outstretched his hand for Hisoka and said quaintly, "Yes she did leave. And yes, yes you are a monster Hisoka Morrow, my monster."
It seems Chrollo enjoys playing zookeeper.