Paradis Perdus

Some said Hisoka Morou had a black heart, and that might be true, but anyone who'd seen him take down two dozen armed soldiers with a pencil and toothpick would tell you that man had an artist's soul.

PROLOGUE

THE WITCH'S BOY

Best if listening to: If I Had a Heart by Fever Ray, Change by The Deftones and Kiravani Tanam in Vioin by L Shankar

XXX

The first thing the boy Hisoka remembered, was the smell of Aunt Sabine's kitchen. Hot steaming bread, plump roasted chickens, thick hearty stews, cinnamon apple pies... everything that came out of her kitchen was his favorite. They never had much, but his Aunt worked magic with what little she had to work with. Of course most of what they ate came from the small vegetable garden in the library. The central figure in his memory was of course Aunt Sabine. She was tall and she had hair red like the roses that decorated the garden. There was no better cook or fortune teller in all the world.

Aunt Sabine fed him and cared for him, but mostly she taught him things about the world. Why bad things happened to good people, and that the world wasn't always black and white. She taught him where all the constellations were, and what stars to follow if he ever got lost. She told him to always cherish his life, to never put anyone else first and to never, ever dwell on the past. She didn't give him life, but she was like a mother. She hugged him when he got hurt, kissed him goodnight, and she always made sure he was provided for. She was with him always during the first few years of his life, before he began to venture off on his own.  Aunt Sabine had to teach him because she couldn't afford to send him to school. That was just fine with him, he didn't get along well with other children. Aunt Sabine taught him how to survive on the streets, and how to do everything from card tricks, to sleight of hand. From the moment he'd seen her at four years old, he knew she was magic. 

They lived in a small apartment on a quiet street he could never remember the name of. Aunt Sabine's apartment was vibrant and full of interesting rooms. There was the reading room; Hisoka was not allowed in there most of the time, that was where his Aunt did her work reading fortunes and other things he wasn't old enough to know about. But of course, being too curious and courageous for his own good, he ventured in often. Heavy dark beaded curtains and soft tapestries were draped along the walls and windows, so the only light came from the tall flickering candles on the altars and reading tables; and there were the delicate stained-glass lamps hanging in the corners that scattered colored geometric patterns around the room, giving it an otherworldly feel. There was a large polished black mirror, numerous crystals, card decks and all kinds of interesting trinkets Aunt Sabine used in her work. No matter how much he was overcome with the desire, he never touched anything in that room. 

His favorite room however, was the library. It was at the top of the apartment, and had a paneled glass roof. There were telescopes and odd metal machines he wasn't sure how to use; maps covered the walls and several tables, some places he recognized, but many others he did not. Aunt Sabine was also fond of painting, and always had supplies on hand for him to use should he have a passing fancy. The library was also full of games and flowering plants, and provided endless entertainment. It was a haven in an otherwise bleak environment.

The neighborhood their apartment was in was not nearly as magical as those rooms. It was a boring and dreary place, far from the glamour and pulsing vibrance of the sprawling city Dorado to the North. There were hardly any other children and most of the adults were rude and standoffish. His Aunt did not have a nice reputation among their neighbors, and this earned him the nickname Witch Boy. He quite liked that. They all left him alone and that was just how he wanted it.

Being such a bleak place, the only things worthy of keeping a seven year-old's attention were the cats. The whole neighborhood was overrun with them. Most residents hated them, and killed them when they could, but he would retain-even-as an adult, that those cats were his only real friends in the world. He would spend hours chasing them all around the narrow, labyrinthine alley ways, and even over the rooftops when Aunt Sabine decided he'd spent too much time inside. They were fast, agile and maddeningly clever; it took him two months to actually catch one. After that it was easy. 

Aunt Sabine had been happy when he told her of his new hobby with a sleek black cat draped in his arms. She'd even helped him feed many of the animals. That's what he liked best about Aunt Sabine, she never got mad at him. Not even when he was caught pick-pocketing, or putting the neighbors through hell. She'd only smile and showed him how to improve his skill so he didn't get caught. 

"The world will not be kind to you," she told him once upon a time. "We're different, you and I. So we have to go about the world in a different way."

He thought he would be with her forever, but it was not to be so. 

When he turned eleven, Aunt Sabine died. She had been murdered in the lower end, the victim of a killer they were calling The Surgeon, who'd claimed three others before his Aunt. When she hadn't come home from the market, he knew something was wrong. He squirmed under the unease gnawing at his stomach, the tell-tale sign that something terrible had surly happened. It didn't take long for him to find her. His nose was sharp and he followed her faint scent of roses until the thick stench of blood, disembowelment and hate overcame him. 

Hisoka had seen dead bodies before, when the poor starved to death, they often did so in the street. However nothing had prepared him for this. This wasn't just death or murder. This was evil. The air he breathed was like aluminum between his teeth. The moment he laid eyes on the scene he'd found, was the moment his soul froze through, never to thaw.

Just like that, she was gone. No longer there to teach him any more magic tricks, or impressive flips. He would never taste her cooking again, or help her trim the roses she loved so much. She would never grab him by the ear when was caught sneaking into the reading room, or play hours of hide and seek with him. He was saddened, but he did not cry. Even when the policemen asked him questions he didn't have answers to, even when he watched them clean up the mess, he didn't feel anything but...emptiness and another feeling, a colder feeling he couldn't name.

The light in his life had been snuffed out. Hisoka decided that night, if the darkness wanted him, it could have him. He was going to find the Surgeon, and he was going to show the predator what it was to be helpless prey.

XX

Dorado. The infamous capital of Glam Gas Land was a cesspool wrought with crime, greed, lust, and intrigue. It's infamy lured a young and impressionable Hisoka into it's embrace. The rippling neon lights, flamboyantly-dressed high-rollers, scantily clad curvaceous dancers and packed streets enthralled his every fiber. This was where the trail of the Surgeon had taken him, yet he'd decided that particular obligation could wait. There was exploration to be done. He could tell these avenues held untold wonders.

Before Hisoka had gone after the surgeon, he gathered a few changes of clothes and set fire to the only home he'd known, deciding to never look back. Then he took to the streets. It wasn't surprising that information was exceedingly difficult to find, especially for a kid as young as he was. Hisoka may have been a child, but he was not stupid or naive. He quickly learned to eavesdrop, steal, coerce and intimidate to get the information he wanted. Not only did he enjoy himself immensely, by God was he good at it! Had Hisoka had the moral compass of a normal person, he probably would've made an excellent police officer. However, he liked deceiving people far too much to consider honest work. Hisoka didn't have an honest cell in his being. He found honesty was only applicable when it was going to benefit him. Lying came easily and he enjoyed messing with people he thought were stupid.

Dorado had him doe-eyed. Between the magnificent light shows, casinos and highly-talented performers, Hisoka didn't know where to look first. He was thirtreen, but that didn't stop him from indulging in a strange green alcohol a man in a very nice suit offered him after Hisoka had thoroughly beaten him in a game of street chess. Boy did that make him feel good...the beating, not the alcohol. After that, the kind man told him to head to the east part of the city if he really wanted to have a good time. 

Before that, Hisoka had no idea what a red light district was. After that night, the Witch's Boy was fully convinced he'd found paradise. Hisoka had been no stranger to pain, but he quickly found that pleasure and pain were an almost inseparable mix. He was forever changed after spending a few nights in a place called the Cathouse. There were no cats there however, only women...and a few men. It was all wondrous.

Two weeks after discovering his darker appetities, Hisoka encountered the Surgeon. He'd been operating off a rumor that the son of an influential doctor in Dorado was the dastardly killer. Contrary to what Hisoka was told about the source, that rumor proved to be painfully true. When he spotted Dras Xerxes from the balcony he was perched on, he knew this rich prat was the lowest scum-sucking filth to crawl upon the earth. The man's disgusting air put righteousness in Hisoka's heart. He would be doing the world a favor by wiping this stain from it's surface.

He'd cornered the immaculately-dressed young man in an alley as he stalked his own prey. He was following a pretty dancer who'd been entertaining him earlier that evening during the family's little shindig. Once the scum thought he had the little bird alone, Hisoka looped a thin wire cable around his neck, and threw all his weight back, pulling the cord tight and dragging the man around a corner and into the shadows. 

Hisoka hadn't wanted to fight the man, he'd only wanted to kill him, but he hadn't been fast enough. Somehow this Surgeon was able to sense Hisoka's malicious intent and he'd thrown his hands up to protect his neck. His fingertips were getting shredded by Hisoka's cable as he struggled to keep the sharp edge from ripping into his throat. He was so excited by the sight of blood, Hisoka didn't realize he'd been thrown off by a ridiculously powerful elbow jab until he was on the ground and his prey's ugly dark eyes were directly over his. 

"Who are you?!" The man shouted at him.

He might've been facing death, but Hisoka could only smile and let out a sharp laugh. He didn't care about letting this piece of s**t know who he was, or what he'd done. None of that really mattered anymore. His heart had never pumped faster. He felt truly alive. A grunt escaped him when the man drove a fist into his face. The hits came harder and faster, and Hisoka was swimming in pain, but it was far from unpleasant. His stomach tingled as he pulled a shard of glass from his pocket while his target was distracted with pummeling what he preceived as nothing more than a punk kid. The anticipation of what he was about to do was making Hisoka shake with longing. Unable to take it anymore, he drove the shard of glass into the man's neck with a loud, triumphant laugh. 

The showering blood, and the delicious shocked expression on his opponents face drove Hisoka over the edge from pain into blinding, impossible pleasure. He didn't know it was possible feel so very good. Not even those lovely women at the Cathouse could compare to this...

Once the afterglow had worn off, and he got tired of sitting there in that scum-bags sticky blood he tried to get up, but he realized from the sudden waves of unadulterated pain in his side, that the b*****d had broken a couple of ribs good before Hisoka stuck him. He had been so overcome by pleasure that he hadn't even felt the bones snap. He made it to the main avenue before he passed out.

XX

Two months after his altercation with the Surgeon, Hisoka proved to the great Moritonio that he was more than just another pick-pocket good-for-nothing. Hisoka had talent, and he knew it. All those years chasing cats, exploring the underworld, and running from police officers and mob bosses had sharped his wit and hardened his muscles. His reflexes and dexterity were stunningly impressive. He could pick up almost any skill or trade with little effort. All this combined with his genius-level intellect made him a favorite of Moriotonio's...and an object of envy or fear for everyone else.

Hisoka could not thank Aunt Sabine enough, for it was the magic tricks she'd taught him as a young boy, that paved the way for his glorious purpose. After Hisoka took Yasuda's place as the juggler, he turned his sights to this John Doe, a serial killer that was all the rage. From the what the posters said, he could change his face as easy as he crushed his victims bodies to a bloody pulp. Now that was something Hisoka wanted to see. He decided immediately that he had to kill this man. But there was something that still didn't sit right with Hisoka, and that was just how this killer changed his face. He had a funny feeling he needed more information before he could intiate his game.

After repeatedly noticing a strange glowing film around Moriotonio's body, Hisoka desperately wanted to know what it was. He didn't think he was crazy, but it was only around his mentor did he notice this strange energy. He'd observed it on many occassions during their shows, and deduced that it was likely to thank for Moritonio's breath-taking magic tricks. So one day, he got tired of trying to figure out himself, and simply asked. 

When he discovered nen, it was like his entire world opened up. The basics that Moritonio and his student,  the pretty flower Abaki instructed him in were all too easy. It wasn't long before he was ready for more. For the longest time, the master Moritonio and his Troupe were to be revered, idols he didn't think possible to measure up against. But now that he knew his master's past and the secret to his power, Hisoka knew he would surpass them in every way. It wasn't that Hisoka was being arrogant, it was just a fact. 

After mastering all the foundations of nen in a matter of a week, Hisoka was introduced to Hatsu. The real exciting stuff! The water divination test put him in the transmuter category, and immediately his imagination began to whir with all the endless potential his nen held. For hours he sat deep in thought, thinking up his perfect technique, rolling screws between his lips so hard sometimes he bled.

Hisoka knew something was wrong with Abaki. How he knew, he couldn't discern. All he knew was that he needed to find her. Abaki was competent, but as Hisoka saw, not enough to allow her to defeat a man like John Doe. Hisoka was lacking a weapon, but remembering his nen experiments, he impulsively pulled a playing card from his pocket, shrouded it with his nen and attacked. He'd been aiming to kill, but his opponent was many times more skillful than that sorry Surgeon had been. So the f**k had gotten away with a sliced eye instead of a sliced skull. Hisoka was disappointed, but he now had the advantage. Not only was it going to be difficult to mask an injury like that, there was something about the skin itself that bothered Hisoka. It didn't rip like normal skin, it was thicker and leather-like. It felt...artificial. That was a pivotal clue, he was sure of it. All he had to do now was watch and wait.

A few days later, the Troupe performed for the Glam Clan, the elite of Glam Gas Land convened at the Royale Glam Hotel to watch the wonders Moritonio and his Troupe were famous for. Of course the show was a magnificent success. The thunderous applause and amazing displays of oppulence could still not compare to what Hisoka had experienced with the Surgeon, and his mind was full of nothing but finding that satifcation once more.

When he looked at his mentor after the John Doe attack, he knew. Moritonio was John Doe. The anticipation of confronting him had nearly cost their final show, but he'd managed to keep himself under control until the time came. He couldn't believe his luck. It was Moritonio! How absolutely poetic. After the show, Hisoka went in search of said man, and found him sitting alone on the rooftop of an abandoned building. Even the setting was perfect. His hands began to shake and his palms began to sweat, it was all so easy!

He sat down, keeping all his inner excitement concealed from his soon-to-be-dead companion. He'd been developing his Hatsu, and he was quite anxious to give it a try. It was a perfect, beautiful technique that could not be bested. The most difficult part would be figuring out how his master's own ability worked. But if he played his cards right, Hisoka could make him spill his guts willingly. A man will tell his darkest secrets if he think's he's going to win. Hisoka could hardly wait to build up his hope, only to rip it all away from him at the last second. 

"Hisoka." Moritonio acknowledged him, not bothering to turn from his view. "Look at this place. It was so busy earlier...and now...nothing but silence. It's always a bit lonely after the show has ended. After you learn the secret of magic, it makes things all the more glum don't you think?"

Hisoka answered him with another question. "What will direction will life take the Troupe now?" He used a soft, neutral tone. If even the slightest bit of bloodlust escaped, it would all be ruined.

"Well, I'd like to entrust bigger jobs to you Hisoka." His spectacled master responded lightly, unsuspecting so far. "But first I think it would be best if we got to know each other better."

"For instance, on the day we found you, why were you laying in the middle of the road with three broken ribs?" Moritonio asked.

Hisoka turned his gaze down. As if he was going to share his past with this man. He thought they were going to be friends, how laughable. 

"I don't dwell on the past." He said simply.

Moritonio was not buying that response, "Come on Hisoka, let's be honest with each other. If you tell me about yourself, I'll return the courtesy."

And so his opportunity upon him, Hisoka's lips spread into a wicked grin and he asked:

"In that case...Your left eye, has it healed up yet...John Doe?"

xx

TBC