"Look, I really didn't mind the fact that I died and reincarnated into Ansatsu Kyoushitsu. I didn't really mind that you gave me a hole in the heart. That was a real dick move, but I didn't complain. So god, Void, whatever, I'm sorry I punched a stu...
Rei, member of an elite assassination squad, receives a mission assignment that leads him right into another fandom. Yeah, he's about to make himself very scarce here...
(He doesn't expect to meet Kunomasu Naomasa.)
Hi, to all that have read MiSSiON before! This is the rewritten version of my previous attempt at crossing over these two fics of mine. ALiVE x OUTSiDER.
This is an alternate universe where Rei, Nao's nephew, is older. In the main events of OUTSiDER, Rei is maybe about seven when he meets Nao, but here, he is eighteen. The events of Katekyo Hitman Reborn happened before Assassination Classroom, and in the middle of the school year, Class E receives an exchange student.
This is a story where a mafiosi/assassin Rei meets Nao. Yes, meaning this is an OC meets OC scenario. It's Rei-centric, unfortunately. It's self-indulgent as usual.
Nothing changes about either story. They meet, and they leave, like a filler episode.
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The slums of Italy are quiet in the rain.
It's cloudy out, only the tentative splashes of high boots against puddles breaking through the light showers.
And between these streets, a man runs.
A stuffed bag tucked under his arm, he whirls around, alarmed. His breaths come out hard-- stuttering-- he ducks behind the next corner and peeks out.
Blood seeps from the hole in his side, and he presses a hand hard against the wound to staunch the bleeding, as best as he can manage.
He swears under his breath, looking behind frantically before turning his attention to the parcel he'd been carrying. "What is this? I didn't hear about this!" For a moment, he considered ditching the money-- ditching this job-- this wasn't worth it.
He looks out the corner once more.
"Oh, you're not running anymore?"
This time, a young man smiles back at him from nearly a meter away, hands in the pockets of his black and beige striped jacket.
(The effeminately-styled brown hair-- the jewel green eyes-- )
"Beelzeb--" He jerks back, a scream at his throat, but it never fully leaves.
The young man is already moving. A choked groan was the last he could speak before a tattooed hand pins him through the neck with a dart, stapled right into the wall.
"And," the hand retracts, coming to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "Done."
A young figure lands behind him.
"Excuse us," the young servant of the Cervello addresses. "Lord Beelzebub of the Varia, if you'll allow us to take it from here?"
