Prelude to a Ploy

Part 2 to Hisoka's Second Time. People asked for it, and since I'm a writing monkey, I had to write. As usual, I don't own anything except all which is originally mine. Which now that I think about it, is everything in the story.
So really and truly I own everything. I keep them all in my closet. I'm worried it's getting crowded in there.

Enjoy

Prelude to a Ploy

Hisoka wheezed in pain. He laid on his back scanning the twilight as sweat tricked down his face. He had not regretted put on his make-up before the training session with Karn and was grateful for his absent mindedness. The wizened instructor sat down on a rock and took out his second bottle of wine.

“Barely any improvement. Bah, I don’t know what she sees in you.” His tone cracked; years of tobacco smoking and sword swallowing accidents had deformed his voice forever. Hisoka said nothing. He knew better that to talk back to his nen teacher. Karn had been reluctant enough to teach anyone, for whatever reason. It wasn’t as if he were an open book. He never socialized with the rest of the troupe, never laughed with them, never drank at their table. His only source of human ineraction was Ela, his wife. They had shown up once upon a time, demanding a position in the show and ranks of the troupe. The caravan welcomed them after they had showcased their ‘talents’. After all, the troupe’s show was one with a twist. And nen performances earned money.

Karn fiddled with the cork before he muttered a curse and conjured a small dagger out of thin air. The sword swallowed jabbed at the cork top and ravenously ripped it off.

“Get up and go bathe somewhere. You stink,” he said. Without much consideration began ravaging the dark red liquid. Hisoka stood up and gave a slight bow in his direction. Not once did their eyes meet. A ‘thank you’ slipped out of the magician and Karn responded with a grunt and an aggressive wave of the hand.

A soft moan escaped his lips as the water, silver in the moonlight, caressed his skin. This was his time, where all the pretense washed off, together with the memories of trying to enjoy himself and his life with the troupe. He couldn’t take much more. He was close to snapping, to crying in sheer insanity and butcher everyone in the vicinity. He was bored! So. Fucking. Bored.

He had been reduced to downplaying his power in order for him to tolerate the lessons with that old idiot. Ten, Zetzu, Ren, Gyo; they were all toys in his hands. Magic tricks. Karn could conjure knives. He could throw, fight and swallow them. Too bad he couldn’t walk straight. That left knee of his made his step wobble. That, and the fact that Hisoka had rarely seen the old man sober.

Hisoka laughed heartily. The lion being tutored by the gazelle. It was just too funny. He longed for the day where he could kill them all. Just like that gypsy. He longed for that feeling again. So why didn’t he do it? Right here, right now?

“I don’t know what she sees in you.” That’s what Karn had said.

Hisoka grimaced. Ela saw him for who he was. A powerful creature, destined for something other than carrying bags, setting up stages and showing lame sleight of hand tricks. It was she who had found him: he had just escaped that orphanage. He had just killed that priest. He had lived in the forest for exactly a month and a week, hiding, unknowingly using zetsu. She had seen him, took him in and made others accept him. She had insisted that her husband teach him.

Hisoka, too, had seen her for who she really was. A powerful creature, just like him. Only, she lived a human’s life. She had lived her life downplaying her power, allowing the troupe to assume that her husband was the only one with any considerable talent. But Hisoka knew better. And it was that that kept him going. But now he had drained her husband dry on knowledge. He wanted her. She was a mystery which he had to solve. Not forcefully, like the fortune teller, but gently.

A plan formed in his mind. He wouldn’t kill the troupe.

Yet.

He’ll leave them for later. If he played this right he could face them all together. United they stand and all that bullshit. Hisoka knew that was all crap. Just an excuse that with weak herds invent in order not to admit just how pathetic they really are.

Power is all.

Power, control and fate. He will seize all of them. He will laugh and dance all the way to hell and he will experience that feeling, that pure ecstasy, every single moment of his life.

No, he won’t waste time with the troupe.

He would go for someone worthy.