ECHOES BEYOND THE DOOR || Hisoka X OC

018 || Clucking of Hens

The cool breeze swept through Quasar's tangled hair as she stepped out of the tower, carrying with it the scent of salt and distant greenery. The warmth of the sunlight kissed her skin, and the gentle wind brought a refreshing coolness that eased the tension in her muscles. She paused for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of fresh air, a welcome reprieve from the musty and oppressive atmosphere of the stone tower.

Her peace was short-lived as a voice cut through the murmurs of the assembled group.

"Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations on having escaped Trick Tower," the man said.

Quasar's eyes opened, locking onto the speaker. He was a strange figure, to say the least. His purple mohawk stood tall and sharp, glinting slightly in the sunlight. Large, reflective glasses obscured his eyes, and his grin—wide and unnatural—made her stomach twist with unease. He stood with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, his posture poised.

"Only the fourth phase and the final phase remain," he continued, his voice carrying a pleased lilt.

With a dramatic swing of his arm, the man gestured behind him, his thumb pointing to an island in the distance. The large expanse of water between them and the island shimmered under the sunlight, giving the distant landmass an almost surreal quality. The sight of it made Quasar's chest tighten—another challenge lay ahead, one likely more grueling than the last.

"The fourth phase will take place over there, on Zevil Island. Let us proceed."

He snapped his fingers sharply, the sound echoing across the group. Moments later, another figure appeared, rolling a metal cart in front of the group. On the cart sat a box—sleek, black and gray, with yellow arrows decorating its edges. There was a narrow opening at the top, clearly designed for drawing something from inside.

"I will need you to draw lots," the man announced.

Murmurs broke out among the examinees, voices tinged with confusion and suspicion.

"Lots?" someone muttered.

"What for?" another questioned.

The man's grin widened, and the sunlight finally shifted enough to reveal his small, beady eyes behind the large lenses of his glasses. Quasar caught the glint of satisfaction in his expression and felt her unease grow.

"To determine who will hunt... and who will be hunted," he said with deliberate weight, his tone practically dripping with amusement.

He gestured toward the box and elaborated, "In here are twenty-five numbered cards. In other words, your ID numbers are on these cards."

Quasar's brows furrowed as she processed his words. Determine who will hunt and who will be hunted? she thought, her unease now bordering on dread. Her mind quickly pieced the implications together. We'll be fighting each other, she concluded silently.

With a quiet exhale, she reached up and zipped her leather jacket, ensuring her badge—#54—was completely hidden beneath the fabric. Better safe than sorry. She wasn't about to make herself an easy target.

The man's voice cut through the murmurs once more. "Now, I need you each to draw a card, in the order by which you exited the tower. Will the first person come forward?"

The group fell into a hushed silence, all eyes darting around uncertainly until Hisoka strode forward without hesitation. He moved with his usual fluid grace, his confident smirk never wavering as he reached into the box and retrieved a card. He gave it a brief glance before retreating back into the group, his expression blank.

Quasar hesitated only for a moment before stepping forward herself. The box loomed before her, its sleek design giving off an air of finality. She reached inside, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the cards until she grasped one. As she pulled it out past the box's edge, she noticed faint red lights blinking on the sides, likely recording her selection.