Apathetic (Hunter X Hunter Chrollo Fan fiction)

Roundtable Rival

Author's note: You guys are amaaaaazing! 1.13k reads?! Just about three weeks ago we were at 500! You've made me so happy!

So, since today is an extra special day, here's a congratulatory present from me to commemorate this splendid event! Enjoy, Hunters!

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Roundtable Rival
"If you have objections, feel free to leave the Roundtable."
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"HEY! WAKE UP!"

A whip lash hit Nike in her cheek, causing her to slowly open her eyes.

As her blurry vision slowly cleared, she tried moving her arms to relax her sore shoulders, only to find them heavily chained to the wall in either side of her. Her wrists are bound with thick handcuffs which are linked to the chains.

Her eyes squinted as she took note of her tattered clothes and chained feet as well. With further observation, the room was in a much worse state than the Phantom Troupe's base. Still, she couldn't quite recall how she ended up heavily chained.

"Oh, right." She remembered now. She fell asleep after enduring the monotonous torture of the younger Silas.

As if you can even call this torture.

"ARE YOU LISTENING?!" Another whip lash hit her, this time in the torso.

She lifted her sea green eyes to see two thugs. She recognized them as two of the hundreds of drug lords they had in the Mafia. Not that there were any left aside from the two of them though.

She had been acting on her own, again. The traitors of the Lancelot Mafia had to be purged, and Nike took that responsibility into her own hands.

The small fry was nothing to worry about, but it was these ass heads who were hard to deal with especially when they have someone who is more powerful backing them up. Someone who is in the inner circle of the Mafia.

Without enough evidence she cannot get her hands on them properly, so she decided she has to cut the branches first before heading for the main trunk and roots.

Just a few hours ago, she had single handedly diminished the Silas brothers mansion and hideout into a mountain of corpses and rubble.

Guess she broke her promise again.

The Silas brother in the right held the whip and lashed it at her again. "ANSWER WHEN YOU ARE SPOKEN TO, BITCH!" he screeched in between heavy breaths.

"Just let her be," the other at the left said as he lit up a roll of whatever drug that might be. "They would want her alive."

"NO SHIT!" the younger Silas exclaimed. He threw her a dirty look. "That brat insulted us, brother! And yet you allow her to be taken alive?!" he argued with a scowl.

"It doesn't matter," the older Silas replied and took a huge inhale from the roll, puffing out polluted smoke. "We obey the Lancelots as we are a part of the Lancelot Mafia."

Nike chuckled. "The Mafia doesn't even recognize you. . . fool."

The younger Silas turned to her and whipped, his rage hitting Nike at her cheek. "SILENCE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!"

Nike's head simply hung low, her bangs casting an eerie shadow over her sea green eyes that shone with mirth as she watched him seethe. "Scum," her voice rang clear with insult especially after she spat out blood, mockery evident in her scathing smirk.

"WHY YOU––!!" The younger brother moved but was halted by his older brother's hold.

The older brother stepped closer to her and gripped her jaw harshly with one scarred hand. "Such a pretty little thing," he said as he turned her head side to side. He traced his fingers along her smooth skin, admiring the slopes and curves of her portrait perfect face. Nike didn't resist, but her sharp gaze never left the man's eyes. She held back the strong urge to throw up after the strong smell of cigarette, drug, and liquor wafted unwelcomely into her nose.