Chapter 30: Joke X Jaded
Heavens Arena 211th Floor, April 10th…
Hisoka Morrow was the embodiment of self confidence. A creature born to please his own hedonistic nature and ideals. A being that followed his own code of conduct, never wavering to those around him nor forcing his way onto others, however if you were caught in Hisoka's eyes, they would be the last set of eyes you will see.
Hisoka Morrow wasn't arrogant or too hubris. He simply believed to be superior to everyone else because of his beliefs and way of life. The man dedicated his life to be powerful and challenge those he deems worthy of his time.
Because he uses the strong for his own self satisfaction. Only they can bring out the elixir of life.
With his own life hanging by a thread, that is when Hisoka Marrow feels the most alive. An intense high of pleasure and pain rushes through his body when he and the strongest person he can find were fighting to the death.
Inside of the dining section of the 211th Floor in the Heavens Arena, Hisoka sat alone by the far left wall. Along the left wall were high two person tables, on his table was a vanilla milkshake and a cherry resting on a fluffy cloud of whip cream. His long slender legs dangled off the stool as he moved them back and forth, waiting for his company to arrive.
Wearing his usual clown attire, he stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd but he would never acknowledge the stares or words aimed directly at him. They don't exist in his world.
With his elbow resting on the silver metal table and his chin placed on his left palm, his lips inched closer to the red and white thick straw, sucking in the viscous cold delight. He loved sweets as they were another form of pleasure and gratification.
He moaned deeply from the rich taste as his company arrived and took the seat in front of him. A cute woman with pink hair tied into a high pony tail. A fellow member of the Phantom Troupe, Machi.
She pointed at Hisoka with her straw that still had the protective paper on it. "If you do that again, I'm leaving."
Hisoka grinned, throwing his hands up. "What? I can't enjoy myself."
She ripped the straw free and stabbed her milkshake with it. "Do it quieter. Now, why are you bothering me?"
"I can't enjoy a nice desert with my teammate?" Hisoka asked, seductively. He took another sip of his milkshake while keeping direct eye contact with Machi. "Do you have other places to be? More important things to do rather than spending time with me?"
"Gross. Don't act like you care," Machi replied, picking up the cherry at the top of her milkshake and tearing the fruit off its stem with her teeth. "And what if I did?"
They stared at each other while taking long sips of their milkshakes but since Machi received her drink recently, she had to suck pretty hard to get the thick cold liquid into her mouth.
"Hmm, I wonder?" Hisoka mumbled out loud, he grabbed at his chin in thought."Like stalking Sinbad."
Caught by surprise, Machi spit out her vanilla milkshake. Her cheeks flushed pink from embarrassment. "I am not a stalker!"
"But you are following him?" Hisoka asked, teasing her. He knew this question would trap her into a dilemma.
Not wanting to fall for his taunts and try to escape the matter, Machi chose honesty. "On the day we spoke, I accidentally ran into him and I was intrigued by your interest in him. So, I watched one of his matches."
"Tsk tsk, you've been to more than one," Hisoka waved a single finger, catching her in a lie. "Have you considered joining his fan club?"
"Okay fine! I watched them all!" Machi snapped. She puffed her chest out. "We have a bet together and I wanted to see his progress, is that so bad!"
Hisoka twirled his thick milkshake by rotating his straw around the glass. "Now I'm intrigued. What kind of bet?"
"If he kills you, I will tell him my name," revealed Machi.
"And?" Hisoka rebutted while watching his vanilla flavored drink spin inside the clear glass.
Machi leaned forward onto the table. "And what?"
Hisoka's face stretched into a creepy smile. His hand snatched the glass drink in front of him, the finger muscles bulged and tensed as he gripped the cup.
"Does your instincts say he can kill me?" Hisoka asked as a sinister purple and pink aura oozed from him. Even he trusted and acknowledged Machi's hunches and sharp instincts to be accurate.
If Machi wasn't familiar with Hisoka's unsettling behavior, this would have made her skin crawl and her body would demand to put as much distance as possible. But, she remained calm as her analytical mind took over, no longer flustered from the previous accusations and Sinbad's distracting smile.
Her eyes glanced upward toward the ceiling as she leaned over and took a sip of her milkshake. In deep thought, she analyzed the two fighters. Their fighting capabilities, weapons, and Nen prowess. Unfortunately most of her information on Sinbad's Nen Abilities and utility is purely speculation.
But she did know from their earlier conversation, he was confident. The type of confidence and conviction she has only felt from one other person, the boss of the Phantom Troupe, Chrollo Lucifer.
After swallowing the milkshake in her mouth, she gave her answer. "You are going to die."
Immediately, Hisoka moaned and shook from intoxication, anticipation, and gratitude. From the moment he laid eyes on the purple haired boy, he knew that Sinbad would be the one to give him the greatest amount of pleasure.
He crushed the glass in his hands, cold slightly melted vanilla milkshake fell onto his hand. Pieces of broken shards stabbed into his palm. Just like everything else in his life, none of the pain or cold registered in Hisoka's brain because if it didn't serve to please him, then it doesn't exist.
Watching this display of erratic behavior with a concerning look, Machi picked up her milkshake and jumped down from the high chair. "So, when's the Floor Master fight?"
Hisoka shuddered like an addict in line to buy his drug, restraining himself from losing control.
"Tomorrow."
…
A Ship Somewhere on the Seas…
The large wooden boat, Freyr rocked and swayed as it fought back against the tumultuous savage sea. The Freyr displayed great valor against the devastating winds and bolts of lightning, but the ship was fighting a losing battle.
The sky was pitch black and the tempest winds fluttered about the abyss like monsters lurking in the shadows, lightning bolts flashed from the angered heavens like mythical jagged teeth to bite down onto the ship.
Standing alone on the wooden ship as the rest of her crew remained huddled up inside, Yama's hands held firm on the helm. Wind lashed across her face and thunder screamed at her eardrums but she was determined to find results.
After becoming a Hunter, she managed to pull together a ragtag team of fishermen. However, she wouldn't really call them men. They whimpered and whined whenever some real action happened at sea but she needed the power to operate the Freyr, if she could do it herself, she would.
As soon as she earned her Hunter License, Freyr was her gift from her family. A legendary ship carved from the finest quality of wood, which of course could only come from Magi Kingdom. The world's strongest and fastest naval army.
Yama reinforced her body with Ten to keep herself on balance from the rising powerful tides, her arms locked in place, keeping Freyr's path straight.
They were heading for the eye of Ragath's Storm, a legendary storm filled with enchanting tales and wonder. A lone survivor of the storm claimed it to be a pool to a different dimension.
Regardless, the deeper they penetrated beyond the storm wall, the angrier the storm behaved. It was bidding its time, widening its jaws before it swallowed the ship whole.
In the midst of the chaotic waves, rain that fell like rocks, and threatening lightning, Yama heard a beautiful voice. A lovely soothing tone that droned on the most seductive pitch.
Her lips curled into a marvelous grin. "I've found you! Sirens!"
She altered Freyr's trajectory to chase after the hypnotic tune. With a hysterical laugh filled with relief, Yama summoned the strength to force the helm to spin in the correct direction.
Directly behind her, the doors to the cabin busted open. Her designated vice captain–for now at least– appeared, he swayed in the chaos in a drunken daze.
"Jogn! Go record our current coordinates!" Yama shouted, her voice competed with the storm's raging howling.
Once again, Yama heard the siren's elegant song. Subconsciously, she started to hum along the tune. Her fingers tapped at the wooden helm to blend with the harmony. The focus in her eyes slowly dissipated as she grew sleepy.
Behind her, Jogn unsheathed his cutlass and approached the unsuspecting Yama. He raised the weapon up above his head, getting ready to strike down his captain.
Yama bit down onto her tongue, waking herself up from the hypnotic trance. At the last second, she noticed Jogn's attack and dodged, watching the silver blade slash in front of her, striking the helm.
"Please forgive me!" Yama shouted to ease her own heart because in the next moment, she jabbed Jogn's check. The man was knocked out immediately and sent flying, crashing into the side of the ship. Thankfully, he didn't fly completely over the ship.
"Kill her…Kill her…"
Yama turned her attention toward the rest of her crew competing with each other to leave the cabin, two of her members stuck inside the door frame. Her eyes widened in shock from the zombie-like action her members were behaving.
Then, like it never existed, the Ragath's Storm vanished and the crew returned to normal.
Port City of Soufarabi, Greed Island…
Ging Freeces strolled by the edge of Soufarabi's cliff, heading toward the looming large lighthouse in front of him. His hands rested comfortably in his pockets as the gentle breeze knocked his long black hair and green scarf back and forth.
He continued walking till he reached the base of the lighthouse and entered a building connected to the lighthouse structure. Inside he found the convicted convicts who operated as Razor's Pirates during the game, he enjoyed the fear in each and everyone of their eyes as they acknowledged his presence.
They wore ridiculously hilarious zebra striped outfits and black headgears.
He approached the large ugly looking fellow, the one who challenges one of the party members in a sumo wrestling match but Ging didn't need to play the game, because he was one of the creators of Greed Island.
"Where is he?" Ging asked in a friendly tone.
"Upstairs, boss," answered Bopobo, pointing at the ceiling with his thumb.
Ging nodded and without any delay, he made his way to the far right corner and headed upstairs. Once at the top of the landing, his environment shifted to an expansive gymnasium. White and blue painted lines on furnished hardwood floors reflected the overhead hanging fluorescent light, and different areas of the room held space for people to participate in various sports.
However, everyone lined up on the far wall with a large man in a white t-shirt and red tight pants, bouncing a volleyball, the leader of his own pirate crew as well as a creator of Greed Island, Razor. Next to him was a large basket filled with striped volleyballs.
Quietly, Ging entered the room and remained out of vision, spectating the situation.
Razor stared down the twelve men wearing the strange zebra striped long sleeved shirts and black headgear while bouncing the volleyball in his palm. He stopped bouncing the ball, tossing it into the air and then jumping to meet the ball at the apex of its ascendance, spiking the ball toward the group of people.
Ging watched the painful and brutal beatdown, Razor's intense spikes hitting and removing player by player, simulating a game of dodgeball. None of the participating players managed to come close out of the ball's range.
Silently, Ging waited till the last person was out and then stepped toward the center of the gymnasium.
"Yo, Razor," Ging called out, raising his hand. "Long time no see."
At the sound of Ging's voice, Razor immediately recognized it but couldn't help the rising tempo of his beating heart. Even though they were now comrades and he was forgiven for his past crimes, hearing the man who turned him in still gave him fright, especially when he didn't sense his presence.
Razor palmed the volleyball in both palms. "Ging! It's been a long time since you've visited Soufarabi. What's the occasion?"
"Does there need to be an occasion for a friend to check on another fellow friend? Can't I come in to share a drink or play a simple game?" Ging responded with questions of his own as he approached. He walked past the much larger and muscular man, helping himself to one of the volleyballs in the basket.
Razor hesitated, still needing time to process the questions and if they were any deeper meaning to them, when dealing with a Hunter Zodiac, they usually speak in confusing codes.
Quickly noticing his friend's delay and anxiety, Ging casually tossed the ball across the opposite room toward the basketball hoop. After watching the ball swish into the basket, he turned to Razor and firmly gripped his shoulder. A display of unease loomed over Ging's face. "Relax, my friend. I've come to ask for help."
"What's this about?" Razor asked, concern rattled in his voice. He knew of the excellent Hunter standing before him, Ging Freeces wasn't the type of man to ask for help in such a serious manner.
"There is something I need you to do since I can no longer do it," answered Ging.
"I find it hard to believe that there is something that you can't do,"said Razor, slightly irritated at the suspense and the man's refusal to never come out and say it upfront.
Ging only nodded in response and lifted his left hand, tiny bits of aura flickered on his palm. "I've lost the ability to use Nen."