Entry tags:

[fic]

death begins and ends the war.
(In a future marred by civil war, an assassination Reborn expected to be simple turns out to be more than he could have bargained for..)
AUTHOR: tempesta
ARTIST: ehxhfdl14 (link)
PAIRING/CHARACTERS(s): Reborn, Dino and Fuuta, with brief mentions of other characters
Rating: R



He knocked first and waited, as it was the polite thing to do and he was a considerate person. He expected someone to open the door, maybe even call from their desk for him to enter, but was instead met with nothing. Sighing, he reached up and adjusted his tie before knocking again. This time, the door opened with a quiet creak and he hesitated before nudging it open so that he could step inside. The room was completely black and uncomfortably silent, but that didn’t stop him from clearing his throat and searching out the light switch on the wall. He hesitated once more as light filled the room and his eyes fell on a suit-clad man relaxing in an old leather chair; his feet propped up on the Vongola boss’s priceless wooden desk. The man’s fedora obscured his face and he made no move to get up or even greet his visitor.

“So, you finally decided to take over? I didn’t know killing the Boss was your style, Reborn,” the newcomer said, a thin smile stretching over his lips as he shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it on the coat rack beside the door. The hitman just shifted on the desk and gently picked his hat up off of his face, his eyes squinting in the light as they struggled to adjust to the change.

“I was merely napping, Cavallone,” Reborn said, not even bothering to remove his legs from the table. “If you’re looking for Tsuna, he’s in New York and won’t be back for at least a week.”

The Cavallone boss raised an eyebrow and moved to take a seat in front of the desk, indicating that his stay would not be a short one. “New York? You must be desperate for allies if you’re turning to the mob.” Rolling up his sleeves, he loosened his tie and crossed his arms over his chest.

“This petty war hasn’t stretched that far. He’s there for other reasons,” was the only response the boss got before Reborn’s eyes closed again, followed by an audible yawn that he didn’t bother to cover.

“I suppose he left you in charge of the Italian base then?”

“Actually, Ryohei Sasagawa was given the task of keeping the Italian base intact, but I intervened before he started his grand plan of transforming the dining room into a boxing ring.” Reborn smirked and, if this was a normal circumstance, Dino would’ve tilted his chair back a bit and laughed, as the antics of Tsuna’s guardians never ceased to amuse him. However, the situation hidden within the briefcase at his side was far too grave to lighten with laughter, so he allowed nothing more than the same thin smile from before pass over his lips.

“I’m honestly not even surprised.” Straightening up, he loosened his tie even more and finally set the briefcase on the desk, just to the left of Reborn’s feet. Sliding his fingers over the numbered locks with practiced ease, he popped the case open and looked up at his former teacher, eyes darkening slightly. Watching, Reborn simply cocked an eyebrow, setting his fedora on top of his head and sitting up. “And while I’d love to sit and chat about the Vongola Sun Guardian’s new projects as the Vongola boss pro tem, I’ve come here on business.”

Reborn rubbed the bridge of his nose as if the last thing he wanted to do was perform Tsuna’s job for him. “If you want the boss’s extension, I can give it to you.”

“—I already have it,” Dino said simply. “This hit is for you, because you’re the only one who can do it. He’s la stressa cosa – a hitman like you.” Producing a folder, he shut his briefcase and put it on the floor before sliding the papers across the table. Catching them under the tips of his fingers, Reborn lifted the file and removed his feet from the desk so he could thumb through it.

“This guy is getting out of hand. He’s been assassinating civilians in my district without reason, and he leaves absolutely nothing behind to even give us a clue of where he is, let alone who he is or who he’s working for. I’ve sent about twenty of my men after him, and they all come back to me in body bags.” His eyes narrowed in the slightest and Reborn understood. To the boss of the Cavallone family, his men were his life and losing one of them was like losing a brother.

“I didn’t want to involve the Vongola, but it seems like he’s making a move on your territory, and you’re the only hitman alive good enough to take this man out. I’d rather go after him myself than involve the police, and no one else needs to die trying either.”

The hitman just nodded, closing the file. There were no photos and only a few pages of information anyway, some of it helpful, but none of it able to make this job any easier. Lacing his fingers together, he leaned forward on the desk and toward Dino, his eyes obscured by the brim of his hat.

“This isn’t going to be simple.”

Dino nodded. “I know. I’m willing to pay double my usual price to take this guy down. I’m also offering me and my men’s full cooperation and access to anything that I may have at my disposal, should you find that anything the Vongola has to offer you is lacking.”

“I’ll take the hit,” Reborn said, not even missing a beat as he tossed the file back down on the desk. Standing up, he straightened his suit out and adjusted his fedora once more. “But not because of the money. This place is just too dull for words.”

The Cavallone boss sighed and picked the file up, standing up as well. “Thanks, Reborn, I really owe you one for this. I really would take care of this myself, but I believe he’s out of my jurisdiction now.” He smiled wryly, rolling his sleeves down and fixing his tie.

“You have more important things to be worrying about right now. Leave this one to me,” Reborn said with a smirk. “As for your offer of extra help, I should be fine.”

Dino nodded. “The offer still stands if you decide to take it. I’ll make sure to send any information your way if I hear anything. I have a few of my men gathering intelligence on this man. We’re hoping for a name and a Family, at least.”

“I’ll share anything I find out,” Reborn said with a smirk. “But only because you’re an ex-student.” Clapping Dino on the shoulder, he walked toward the door of Tsuna’s office and opened it, looking over his shoulder at the other.

“Feel free to stay here as long as you like. If you need me, I’ll be getting my pistols upgraded by Giannini and then running a few…errands.” And with that, he was gone, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. Dino sighed and considered sinking back into the chair for a few moments but moved to grab his suit jacket instead, leaving the file of information in a place that only Reborn could find. As nice as the offer sounded, he had more business to attend to, and a few of his men to meet up with.

--

Reborn was a very private person; one who preferred conducting his business in very private places. He wasn’t particularly picky when it came to meeting informants, potential employers or family members, just as long as no one was around and he didn’t have to worry about involving civilians if a fight broke out. Meeting in a public restaurant, for example, was probably next to last on his list of “good secluded areas,” and yet, there he was, standing in front of il Porcospino, a very popular restaurant in the Vongola district during the lunch rush waiting for a meeting.

It’s a good thing he was flexible, because this particular informant he had called after meeting with Dino was adamant about discussing business there over lunch. If it were anyone else, he probably would’ve hung up and dialed another number; he wasn’t short on contacts, after all.

Pushing the door open, he nodded to one of the waiters and walked further into the restaurant, his eyes scanning the tables for a familiar face. However, his attention was immediately drawn to a large book with a simple cover, open and propped up on the table to obscure its reader. The person sitting behind it was idly drumming his fingers against the cover as he read, occasionally stopping to pick up his glass of water and take a sip. Smiling to himself, Reborn headed over and sat across from him, folding his hands together on the table.

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to be coming here unprotected, Ranking Prince Fuuta?” he asked with a small smirk, only moving to set his napkin on his lap. Fuuta peeked over the top of his book before closing it with a smile of his own.

“Aren’t you my protection?” he asked, setting his book on the chair closest to the wall so no one could take it when he wasn’t looking. “You are ranked number one on the list of greatest hitmen after all.”

Leaning back in his seat, Reborn picked up a menu and decided to thumb through it, entertaining the idea of actually eating something during this lunch date. “Now isn’t the time to be playing around with the Millefiore on the rise,” he said, briefly looking up at Fuuta over the top of his menu.

“I already got that lecture from Dino,” Fuuta said simply, folding his fingers together and letting his smile widen. “Besides, il Porcospino only ranks 482nd on the list of places where I’m likely to be killed.”

“Morbid.” Reborn smiled.

“They’re just statistics.”

The two fell silent when the waiter finally made his way over to their table and took their orders, leaving just as quickly as he came. The silence remained even after he had left as Reborn fixed his tie and pulled papers out from inside of his jacket.

“I’m looking for information on this man,” he said and Fuuta took the papers and opened them up. “Who he is, who he’s working for, where I can find him, data like that.” The younger of the two just nodded and scanned Dino’s file.

Looking up at Reborn after a brief pause, he frowned a bit. “I can’t get a reading off of him without at least having a name,” he said, turning the pages over again to check and make sure he didn’t miss it.

“That’s the problem. Dino’s the one who came to me with the hit. Twenty dead men later and that’s all the information he could acquire,” the hitman said, tipping his hat up so he could get a better look at the file from across the table.

Fuuta’s look softened a bit and he nodded, looking down again. “Poor Dino. I had no idea,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair before sitting up. “You know I’d love to help you both, but I don’t know what I can do without a name.”

Reborn just nodded. “I know,” he said. “If I didn’t, I would’ve called someone else. You know I’m not one to waste my time.” Fuuta looked up and blinked curiously, his eyes still heavy from the news. “I want a list of the top ten hitman who are currently in Italy, as well as who they’re likely to be working for, and where they’re likely to be.”

Fuuta paused and then nodded, opening his book again and flipping through it. Pulling his pen out, he started to write the rankings Reborn requested down when the door to the restaurant was suddenly kicked open. The restaurant fell silent as five suit-clad men walked inside, holding their guns up and nonchalantly pointing them at the civilians.

“Everybody freeze,” the man in front said calmly, jabbing the barrel of his shotgun into an unsuspecting waiter’s stomach, causing him to double over in pain. The crowd of people in the restaurant, already silent, continued to sit still, mostly for fear of being shot. Fuuta’s hand remained poised over the paper as he looked up at Reborn with a panicked expression. Glancing at the group out of the corner of his eye, the hitman’s hand slowly slid from the table to his shoulder holster.

It seemed he wasn’t so lucky and one of the men noticed. Straightening up, he pointed his SMG at Reborn with a scowl. “I said freeze!” he said. However, just after the words left his mouth, he paused and then fell backward, blood pouring from a newly acquired bullet hole in the center of his forehead. The other men stiffened and tightened their grips on their weapons.

“That’s the one we’re here for,” the leader said, as Reborn pulled out his second gun, pointing each at a different member of the assaulting group. “Shoot anyone that gets in your way.” With those words, all hell broke loose. Civilians screamed and ducked under their tables as the men started shooting at Reborn. Ducking behind the center divider, the hitman pulled Fuuta down next to him and peeked over the corner, moving back just as a bullet came whizzing by.

Peeking again, he fired twice and killed two more of the men, leaving two left. “I’ll stall for time,” he said, ducking back again. Fuuta hugged his ranking book closer, looking absolutely petrified. “Just run. There’s a black car waiting outside. I want you to get inside, now go!”

Standing up, he shot at the two men as Fuuta pushed himself up and into the fray. Weaving around the tables, he used the momentary distraction caused by Reborn to slip outside the door, almost slipping on a plate of discarded spaghetti. Inside, Reborn was shooting at the two men and managed to nail the leader in the shoulder after killing the other. Walking over, he kicked his weapon out of his hand and smiled.

“Who are you working for?” he asked, and the man just sneered. Looking behind him, he confirmed that no one in the restaurant was hurt and looked back down, pressing one of his pistols into the man’s mouth. “I asked you a question—!”

Before he could end his statement with an insult, there was a shout from outside as a few other men grabbed at Fuuta, trying to drag him into one of their cars. Sighing, he kicked his captive’s face into the ground before shooting through the window, knocking two Fuuta’s assailants down.

Running outside, he grabbed Fuuta and pulled him into his car before getting behind the wheel. Fuuta shook a bit as he hugged his ranking book close to his chest and leaned against the door. “T-thanks,” he said, running his hands through his hair and offering Reborn a small smile.

“It’s nothing,” he said with a twisted smile of his own. “But you can thank me by finishing those rankings.” Pressing his foot to the gas pedal, he pulled out of his parking spot and started driving away, narrowly missing a few pedestrians who were trying to cross the street. Letting out a quiet sigh, he checked his rearview mirror and shook his head when four black cars pulled up behind his, barely a few inches away from his rear bumper.

“Looks like things are about to get interesting.”

Fuuta paused in his writing and looked up at Reborn. “You mean the restaurant shoot out wasn’t interesting enough for you?” he half-teased. The other just laughed quietly, turning the car to the right in order to continue down the street they were traveling on.

“Welcome to my world,” he said, finally pulling onto la Via de Cerretani, speeding up until they reached la Via dei Bianchi.

The car ride, though fast, was smooth enough for the time being, allowing Fuuta to go back to his work. “Do you know where you’re going?” he asked, figuring Reborn was just going to lose their pursuers and drop him back off at his temporary home in the city. There was silence for a while, before Reborn made a sharp turn, jolting the other as he sped down another, much longer street. A few people shouted at him as they struggled to get their bikes and children off the road.

Finally, Reborn spoke. “That would ruin the surprise,” he said, reaching up to grab his guns from his shoulder holster. Without further warning, he tossed them at Fuuta, barely giving him enough time to respond, let alone catch them. “Reload those for me, will you? Extra magazines are in the glove compartment.”

Unable to protest, the other just sighed and opened the glove compartment. As he struggled to reload the guns, he finally looked out the window and recognized where they were heading. “Y-You’re leaving they city?” he asked, looking behind them only to see a few men poking out of the car windows, holding their weapons. The nearby civilians screamed and dived into restaurants and stores in order to avoid the gunshots aimed toward Reborn’s car. Swerving a bit (and accidentally hitting a trashcan), he sped up in attempt to avoid having his tires blown out.

“Can’t make a scene, can we?” Reaching over, he grabbed one of his guns and opened the window. Looking behind him, he continued to hold his foot down on the gas pedal as he shot back at one of the cars and missed, hitting a signpost instead. “Merda.”

Fuuta’s hand shot out and gripped the door hand for dear life. “Pay attention to the road!” he said, more than a little hysterical at this point. Abandoning his previous task of getting Reborn’s rankings, he set his book on the floor and glanced behind him, watching as the men continued to shoot at the car. “Why are we being chased anyway?!”

Reborn’s eyes returned to the road as he set his gun in his lap. “There’s a chance this has something to do with my current project. –Head down.” Placing a hand on the back of Fuuta’s head, he pushed it down to his knees as he ducked as well. Bullets riddled the rear window, covering the back seat of the car with a thick layer of glass. Sitting up again, he regained control of the car and got back on the road, narrowly missing a woman crossing the street with her baby. Fuuta just kept his head down for a while, too petrified to even think about moving. Sitting up, he brushed shards of glass from his shoulders and sighed, watching as they pulled onto le Ponte alla Carraia, one of the bridges crossing over into lower Florence.

Traffic was backed up over the bridge, so Reborn crossed into the other lane and started driving against the flow, ignoring any oncoming cars. Fuuta’s hand immediately returned to the door handle, though he knew it wouldn’t do him any good. Ignoring all of the honking, Reborn simply smirked, periodically checking his rearview mirror to see how their newly acquired friends were doing.

“Are t-they done?” Fuuta asked shakily as they cleared the bridge, noticing that the gunfire had ceased momentarily. However, it wasn’t long before the noise of their SMGs returned and Reborn sighed, getting their car back into the correct lane.

“Apparently not. Take the wheel,” he instructed, grabbing both of his guns. Fuuta blanched but quickly grabbed it anyway, watching as the hitman twisted around in his seat and stuck his torso out the window. Keeping his foot on the gas pedal, he let the younger man steer the car as he shot at the other vehicles. His smirk widened as he blew out the tires for the one in front, causing it to screech to a halt and slam into the one behind it.

Fuuta looked absolutely petrified as he tried to navigate their speeding vehicle around the other much slower ones. “You know, I don’t even have my license!” he said over the sounds of gunshots as he gripped the wheel like a lifeline. Reborn just laughed, putting his free hand on his fedora to keep it from blowing away.

“Get on Via della Chiesa when it comes up. I’m getting sick of the traffic,” he shouted. Propping his free foot up on the seat, he hoisted himself up as much as possible without letting his foot off of the gas pedal. Of course, one vehicle with blown out tires hadn’t stopped the other three, and they were still tailing him as close as possible. Shooting out the driver of the second, he watched as it swerved off the road and went straight into a building, leaving two more to take care of.

The Vongola debt to this city was slowly climbing. He made a mental note to add the damages to his report to Tsuna.

Ducking back into the car when the passengers of the remaining two cars started firing at him, Reborn sighed. “Give me the wheel, and duck down again,” he instructed, tossing one of his guns into the back before taking the second one. When another spray of bullets hit the back of their car (luckily missing the wheels), the front window broke. Sitting up, Reborn brushed the glass from his hat and hair before turning around in his seat once more.

Fuuta hurried to grab the wheel, accidentally cutting his hand on a glass shard. He winced, but he didn’t stop steering, making the turn at the street Reborn wanted, and giving him a better view of their attackers. Shooting out one of the men with the SMGs, he blew out the second cars tires, causing the two to crash into each other. Finally taking his foot off the gas pedal, he slammed on the breaks, causing Fuuta’s face to hit the wheel.

The car sighed as it finally came to a stop, the engine all but on fire from the abuse. Watching the two cars, he waited for movement, but was rewarded with nothing. Pulling his seatbelt off, the hitman momentarily took his eyes off of the enemy to turn to Fuuta. “Are you alright?” he asked, opening the car door. The younger man sighed and rubbed his face a bit, accidentally smearing blood on his cheek.

“Yeah, just a little sore,” he said, shakily taking his own seatbelt off. Reborn’s lips pulled up in a smile as he got out, moving to help the other out of the deathtrap of a vehicle. Brushing glass off of Fuuta’s shoulders and hair, he quickly bandaged up his hands before heading over toward the wreckage. People were starting to gather around it, wondering what was going on and talking in hushed whispers amongst themselves. Tipping his fedora low over his eyes, Reborn surveyed the damage.

Out of the five men in the two cars, only two remained alive. Checking both of their conditions quickly, the hitman determined which one was closer to death and shot him without even blinking. Grabbing the other, he hoisted him over the shoulders and dumped him in the trunk of his own car.

Without even looking at the gossiping civilians, Fuuta and Reborn returned to the car and started it up again. The vehicle moaned, but did what it was designed to do and drove away from the scene before the police could arrive. Fuuta was silent for a bit as he hesitated and grabbed his ranking book, finishing the work he was originally called down for in the first place. When he was done, he waited for the ink to dry before folding the paper in thirds, sliding it into the glove compartment with Reborn’s last ammo clip.

“I apologize for dragging you into this,” Reborn finally said as he headed back toward the city, taking the longer route there. “I couldn’t have predicted the attack on the restaurant.”

“It’s not your fault,” Fuuta said with a smile, and then paused. “Well, okay, maybe it was, but…it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” Reborn quirked an eyebrow and looked at the younger man out of the corner of his eye with a small smile.

Fuuta closed his ranking book and held it close. “It was almost exciting,” he said with a pause. “Almost.”

--

There were times when Reborn could be a patient man; where he could sit outside of one location for hours with a cup of coffee and a newspaper, waiting for his target to come within range of his sniper rifle. However, he didn’t have all day, and his patience was wearing thin from waiting for the man he had captured to finally come to.

Sighing, he stood up, the metal chair scraping against the concrete floors of the dimly lit basement. The man stirred at the noise, but continued to remain unconscious as the hitman filled a bucket with ice water from the sink in the corner. Walking back over to the table, he tossed the water at the man and watched as he gasped and sputtered, rocking his chair back a bit but not tipping it over.

“Mamma mia,” Reborn muttered, tossing the bucket and sitting in the chair once more, kicking his feet up on the table. “If I had to wait another minute for you to wake up, I would’ve just killed you and moved on.”

The man dragged his eyes up from the table and met Reborn’s gaze. Immediately, he began struggling against the ropes that bound him to the chair, but it was no use. The hitman just sighed and waited for him to stop, tapping his long fingers against the metal desk. Not even a minute passed before the man was quiet again.

“He’ll come for me, you know,” he said, panting quietly. “He’ll come for me and kill you.”

Reborn rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Who, your little hitman friend?” he asked, pulling the list Fuuta had compiled for him out of his pocket. Unfolding it, he smoothed the papers down and read over the names. “It can’t be Michelo, so who is it? Giovanni? Paolo--?”

The man scoffed, a smirk pulling over his blood stained lips. “The Godfather,” he said with a quiet laugh, rocking back and forth. Another sigh escaped the hitman’s lips as he took his already battered coat jacket off, rolling up his sleeves.

“You expect me to believe,” he started, standing up and slowly walking over to his captive, “that the Vongola are behind this?”

The man just looked up at his captor and was silent for a moment before he spat in his face. Reborn said nothing as he reached up and wiped the saliva from his cheek, drying his fingers off on the other’s collar. Smiling at him, he pulled his hand back and punched him in the nose. His captive howled and bit down on his tongue as blood gushed down his nose, dribbling down his chin.

Pulling the chair up next to him, Reborn sat down again and sighed. “Look, I’m a reasonable man,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “So if I could just get the information I want, you just might raise your chances of making it out of here alive.”

“I’m not telling you shit,” the man said. “And when he comes for me, I’ll make sure he lets me kill you personally.” He tried to spit again, but he missed, covering the table with small drops of his blood. “It’s too late anyway. Your little Cavallone friend will be dead before you can get me to squeal.”

Reborn paused and shook his head. “You really aren’t good at this, are you?” he asked, getting up and walking away. Whipping his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed Dino’s number. After two rings, there was an answer.

“Thank god you called! Look, we need to have a little chat about how you’re handling this—“

Reborn sighed, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “That can wait, we have a situation.” Dino quieted down and waited for more. “The little pig squealed, I’m pretty sure you’re next on this guy’s shopping list.”

There was more silence and then a sigh. “Alright,” he said. “That’s nothing we can’t handle, right?”

The man shifted in his chair and Reborn turned around, looking over at him. Walking back over, he grabbed the back of his head and smashed it into the table. He was rewarded with another howl and a string of barely audible curses.

“—What the hell was that?!” Dino asked. “Reborn, please don’t tell me you’re torturing someone for information.”

“Torture is such a strong word, Cavallone,” the hitman said, taking his seat again. “I prefer to think of it as…aggressive negotiations.”

The man sat up, blood dripping from his nose again. “You’ll get yours, you Vongola dog,” he hissed, struggling against the bonds again.

“That would be his right hand man you’re thinking of,” the hitman quipped, leaning back in the seat again. “Anyway, here’s the plan—“

“Byakuran will kill you; he’ll kill all of you! One by one, all of the families will fall, starting with yours. Soon, we’ll have a new Godfather,” his captive said, still smiling, despite his pain. “I wonder, can you learn to lick another master’s shoes?” Leaning back a bit, he laughed quietly to himself.

“With lackeys like these, who needs torture,” Reborn muttered into the phone, ignoring the babbling of the man next to him. “It seems the Millefiore’s been behind this all along. Probably let our little hitman loose just to stir up a little fear or something.” Standing up, he grabbed his coat and slipped it back on. Dino was silent on the other line.

“So what’s your brilliant plan then? I assume you don’t even know our target’s name, let alone where he can find him.”

Reborn smiled. “Just stay where you are, I’ll come get you, but first, I need to take care of the little squealing piglet.” Closing the phone, he slid it back into his pocket and reached for his gun. The man immediately ceased laughing and paled.

“I-I’ve changed my mind. I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said, his muscles tightening. When Reborn didn’t move, he kept going. “They call him Liberatore, I’m not sure why, but his real name is Giorgio Lombardo. I don’t really work for him, I’m just a hired hand!” Looking up at the hitman, he gave him the most pleading look he could muster, and received a smile in response.

“Thanks for the information,” he said, putting his gun away and standing up. The lackey relaxed a bit with a quiet sigh and slumped as low in his chair as his bindings would let him. “However, that tongue of yours is a little too loose. I don’t want you running back to your boss and letting him know about anything that went on here.” Pulling a butterfly knife out of his pocket, he opened it and pressed it up against his captive’s neck. A thin smile pulled over his lips as he watched him whimper in terror.

“Trust me, this is going to hurt you so much more than it’s going to hurt me.”

--

“You’re crazy,” Dino mumbled, shifting a bit and looking over at Reborn. “I mean, really crazy.”

“That’s news to me,” was the only answer he got as the hitman looked out the window, watching as the car passed by restaurants, stores and homes.

Dino let out a quiet sigh and shifted again, the leather groaning underneath him. “Where are we going anyway?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise.”

The blond frowned. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “And don’t think I’m not done being mad at you for the stunts you pulled earlier, even if these streets aren’t under my jurisdiction. You could’ve killed so many people.”

Reborn smiled a bit, but didn’t turn away. “And yet, I didn’t. Could you drop the subject then? I’m trying to keep you from dying here.”

“What, by dressing up like me?” He scoffed. “You don’t even look like me!” Reaching up, he went to grab for the wig when Reborn grabbed his wrist, his hand tightening around it. Dino was silent for a moment. “Well, whatever. You reek of blood, you know. You could’ve at least showered if you planned on parading around as me or something. I thought assassins were supposed to be subtle.” Sitting back, he crossed his arms over his chest almost childishly, causing the hitman to laugh.

“Stop here,” he told the driver, and the car came to a slow stop right in front of the Battistero di San Giovanni. Opening the door, he stepped out and inhaled the fresh air. This was ranked first on the list where this “Liberatore” figure was likely to be, though it didn’t promise that he’d be there. With any luck, he had been tailing Dino all day, waiting for the perfect moment to kill him.

The plan was simple, relied on a decent amount of patience, and could be carried out within a matter of hours, depending on if their target was going to arrive fashionable early, or late, to his own funeral.

“I’m sure we could just wait a day,” Dino said as he stepped out of the car behind Reborn. Slipping on a pair of glasses, he made sure most of his hair was hidden underneath a hat and then glanced around, probably checking for anyone that looked relatively suspicious.

“This is nothing more than a one day job,” the hitman said with a smile, fixing the front of his suit. “Besides, the cover of darkness will be our only ally.”

Dino rolled his eyes, watching as Reborn slid on a pair of glasses as well. In this light, the wig almost looked believable, but… “Your sideburns are sticking out,” the blond muttered, pushing past Reborn and almost tripping back into the side of the car. When he hit it, the driver took that as a signal to leave, and drove away.

Not even bothering to help Dino up, Reborn started walking toward the baptistery, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Up for a little sight seeing as we wait? The view is beautiful in the sunset,” he said wistfully. Dino picked himself up and followed, running to catch up with Reborn’s long strides.

“Actually, I’m kind of hungry myself. I wouldn’t mind stopping at one of the restaurants nearby,” he said, rubbing his stomach a bit. As if on cue, it growled quietly. He didn’t say anything for a while and they just continued to walk.

Finally, Reborn turned to Dino, touching his hand as if he was passing him something. “We’re being followed,” he said quietly.

“Is it him?”

“It could be. Go ahead and get yourself something to eat and then come find me. I have some business to take care of.”

Dino paused and then nodded, walking down to one of the corner restaurants that were still open. Reborn sighed and stood right at the mouth of a darkened alley, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his eyes narrowed as he felt like someone was watching him closely. However, he didn’t dare look around or give any indication that he suspected anything. The idea was to lure their assassin into a false sense of security. After all, on Fuuta’s list of top hitmen in Italy, his target ranked 7th; in the world, he ranked 151st.

Reborn had bigger fish to fry, and this “Liberatore” wasn’t really one of them.

Finally, he felt a hand on his mouth as he was yanked into the alleyway and thrown against the wall. A darkened figure pressed a gun to his head and smiled, his teeth catching what little light was available.

“Oh man, I heard you were stupid, but I never thought you were this stupid, Dino Cavallone,” he said, continuing to press the hand on his mouth to prevent him from speaking. “Messing with me and then coming out alone? You really are dumb.”

He sighed, tilting the gun a bit. “I wasn’t planning on killing you, you know,” he said quietly. “I heard you’re a nice guy, and it wasn’t really my job to get rid of you, just stir up the masses. Boss’s orders, you know how it is, being a boss yourself. I don’t do nothing without getting payment first, though. But you just had to get Reborn involved, didn’t you? There’s your tragic flaw, man. There it is.

“Y-you know what happens to the tragic hero, don’t you?” He paused, as if waiting for his captive to continue despite not having the ability to. His knees were practically quaking with excitement, and it showed in his voice. “He makes one little decision that fucks everything up and then he dies. So, good-bye, Dino Cavallone. If you were more significant, you could join the ranks of some of literature’s finest heroes, but I’m afraid you’re just as insignificant as I am.”

Smiling, he pulled the trigger, waiting for the all-too-familiar sound of the gun firing, followed by a splatter of brains and blood against the wall. However, all he got was a quiet click, and then silence. Pulling back, he looked at the gun disdainfully. “What the fu—“

Taking his chance, Reborn pushed his assailant against the opposite wall, pressing his forearm into his throat and causing him to drop his firearm. “Do you always give soliloquies to your targets or am I the special exception?” he asked with a smirk, ripping the wig off of his head. A streetlamp flicked just outside of the alley and illuminated Reborn’s face, causing the man to gasp and start to struggle.

“I’m not one who’s quick to compliment my students unless they really deserve it, but if Dino is dumb for ‘falling’ into your trap, then you’re just brain dead for falling into mine.” Pressing harder against his throat, he relished in the quiet choking noises. “Fuuta was also being generous when he ranked you 151st hitman in the world. I’m sure the Vongola boss could do a better job than you.”

Pausing, the other man just started laughing, and Reborn let up on his chokehold a bit. “God, you’re so funny! Has anyone ever told you that?” he asked, looking honestly sincere. “You live up to your name, Reborn. Just another Vongola dog.” The hitman just rolled his eyes as the other broke out into fits of laughter once more.

“Do you know why they call me Liberatore?” he asked with a smile. Reborn’s eyebrow quirked.

“They? I’m sure that’s a self-given name, and I’m not interested in your pointless anecdotes,” he said, pressing his forearm back into the others throat, crushing his Adam’s apple. Reaching under his suit, he grabbed one of his guns and pressed it up against his temple.

Letting out another choking noise, he smiled. “It’s because I liberate people! And I can’t wait to liberate the world from the Vongola reign. The mafia community will see a new Godfather!” Kicking at Reborn’s shins, he managed to break free of his hold and started running down the alleyway, laughing quietly to himself.

“What an annoying fuck,” Reborn mumbled before taking off after him. He expected more of a chase, but it wasn’t a challenge to keep up with someone who was laughing so hard he could barely run straight. Hitting the walls and nearly tripping on his own feet, the assassin attempted to get away, but it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere.

When Reborn took this job, he was expecting excitement, especially after work had been so slowly as of late. While the car chase was a breath of fresh air, this was not the shoot out he expected it to be. In fact, he didn’t have to run to keep within shooting range of his target. Sighing a bit, he pulled one of his guns out and pulled the trigger, allowing a smile to grace his lips when he heard a pleasant yelp of pain. The assassin hit the ground, blood pouring out of a wound in his foot.

“Do you know what your tragic flaw is?” Reborn asked, standing over him and pressing the barrel of his gun against the back of his head. “You talk too much.” His finger started to pull at the trigger, but he had a much better idea in mind. Pulling his gun back, he smacked him upside the head with the butt of it and watched as he crumbled to the ground with a quiet groan.

As if on cue, Dino came running up, stopping when he reached the two of them. “Are you okay? I saw a bit of the scuffle but,” he started, but paused when he saw their target on the ground in a pool of his own blood. “Is he dead?”

“Just incapacitated,” Reborn said with a smirk, pulling his fedora out from the inside of his suit and placing it on top of his head. Putting his gun away, he kicked the crumpled heap of a man before stepping back to smooth out the wrinkles on his suit.

“So, what are we going to do with the body?” the blond asked after a moment of silence. “—And don’t you dare tell me it’s a surprise.”

Reborn smiled. “Call the car around, I have a plan.”

When the car finally pulled up in front of the alley, they loaded the unconscious body of Giorgio “Liberatore” Lombardo into the trunk in the cover of darkness. Getting back into the car, Reborn gave the driver an address and they took off.

“Isn’t that…?” Dino started to say, but trailed off. Reborn only gave him a look. Biting his lip, the blond sighed and looked out the window, noticing the crowds of people smiling and laughing underneath the streetlights. “This is a messy business you’re running, Reborn,” he said. “And I’m not helping you with whatever you plan to do.”

The hitman just laughed, glancing over at Dino. “Playing Death is a messy business indeed,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “But a lesson in life you have to learn is if you’re good at something, charge money for it.”

The two of them remained silent for the rest of the ride. When the car pulled up in front of a building, Dino was hesitant to get out, but they had a job to finish, and Reborn wanted to see it out to the very end.

“Was it worth it?” Dino asked quietly on the drive back. There was a moment of silence before Reborn tipped his fedora over his eyes and smirked.

“Is it ever?”

The next morning, a white car pulled up in front of the very same building. The driver parked and got out, holding the door open for whoever was sitting in the back. A man in a white suit with white hair stepped out, ignoring the commotion that was gathering around the front door of the building. Looking up, he lightly touched his cheek and tilted his head as his eyes were immediately drawn to a man’s body hanging upside down from a second story window, his entrails spilling out of his mouth and toward the ground. The large pool of blood that had gathered on the floor was mere centimeters away the man in white’s new leather shoes.

“And I always thought assassins were subtle,” he said to himself, a small smile gracing his lips. One of the suit-clad men next to him quickly composed himself.

“Signor Byakuran, we’ll take care of this mess as soon as possible,” he said, unable to pull his eyes away from spectacle.

“Leave it,” Byakuran instructed, his smile widening. “It makes a lovely ornament, don’t you agree?” Throwing his coat over his shoulder, he walked right through the pool of blood and toward the door, humming quietly to himself.