When Cain was younger, he never understood the concept of a Sky, other than it was euphoric and blissful to most people, and that it was the best sensation you'll ever experience. He used to call it bullshit, seeing rare couples of guardians trailing along a sky like puppies that absolutely yearned to please their Sky. It was like slavery to Cain, harmonization that took hold of you and chained you to them. The very thought used to give shivers down his spine as he used to give the dirtiest looks at the people that called themselves Skies, only to be dragged away by his furious sperm-donor he calls father. And whips and shrieks of 'you mistake' always comes afterwards, and really, Cain used to scrunch his face at the fact that the man was spitting at his face rather than the actual torture a child went through.

After a while, and no surprise here, Cain's hand blazed with purple flames that symbolized he was a Cloud. Which explained plenty of why he never wanted to be chained to anyone or anything, as Clouds are usually aloof and unchained people. Maybe he should reconsider that skies aren't as bad as he originally thought.


It's still bullshit.

And being raised into the world of Mafia, it wasn't long before Cain decided he needed an escape. By putting 10 bullets, 5 knives, and a umbrella through the body of Pierre Grene, the one and only boss of the Grene famiglia that his father served just to piss him off.

Hey, he was a 8 year-old kid with emotional deprived problems, it was fated to happen.

And hey, the umbrella was completely justified.

Besides, he's glad for his father who never registered him as a part of the Grene Famiglia, or else he would have had a furious case of the Vindice hounding his ass. Cheers, Father, the only moment where you were helpful. Though, the entire Grene Famiglia did start trying to kill him, using all kinds of weapons in means to eliminate a mere 8 year-old boy that managed to assassinate the boss. Cain smirked to himself, remembering the pandemonium that erupted when they found him whistling to himself while sitting on the boss' desk with Pierre's corpse in the middle of the room, skewered with an umbrella and riddled with bullets. It was music to his ears.

To say, the many screams of 'kill him' was hilarious as he remembered jumping down to avoid bullets flying over him, pulling the knives, remembering every squelch of bloody flesh and promptly embedded 5 knives into 5 targets perfectly. Cain was glad that the fooling around with weapons improved him in everything, because seeing more Mafioso's collapsing to the floor from him wiping out a handgun was glorious. And finally, he grabbed the pen from Pierre's suit pocket, taking a running start and launched himself while stabbing the pen into the eye of his enemy.

Jack-of-All-Trades, they now called him, having earned that title with the ability to use any weapons that he could lay his hands on. (Yes, even a toenail.)

Which brought him back to the present, 12 years later from his first murder and escape, slashing a spear across the throat of a bodyguard that stood between him and the door. The man screamed soundlessly, blood spraying like a morbid fountain as it splattered the walls and unfortunately, speckles on Cain himself. He sighed in annoyance while brushing a hand through his marred hair, swiping his spear to rid of the blood that soaked the blade, leaving a crescent red trail on the expensive marble floor.

"Damn…" Cain glanced at the mirror besides him, bloody, but usable as he inspected himself.

He considered himself to be a good-looking guy, especially considering how women always fawned over his face. Telling him how they adored his black hair that was silky to touch, telling him his lilac eyes were unique even when he looked bored most of the time outside of work. Not to mention they cooed at his fine body made even more noticeable whenever he wore his fitted night duty clothes. Cain trailed his gaze down to the speck of blood on the left side of his face, bringing his gloved hand and wiped it with a finger. Glancing towards the doors, Cain turned to face it with a cheeky smirk as he grabbed the abandoned duffle bag.

"Now then…" Dressed in all black, Cain kicked down the doors like a bat out of hell.

A man shrieked at the blow, looking wide with fear at the assassin that waltzed in, trying in vain to shoot Cain as a last ditch effort. Cain smiled brightly, sending his duffle bag across the room like it didn't weigh a ton as it collided painfully into the stomach of his target. While the man choked on the floor, Cain kneeled next to him as he took his sweet time getting the ropes out from the duffle bag.

"Sorry about that," Cain apologized with patronizing warmth, lilac eyes curving as he pulled out a chair from somewhere. "I just want to have a pleasant talk."

The man glared defiantly at him as he tried to crawl away, futile when Cain roped him into the chair. The target hissed, "Who are you!"

Cain blinked, a smile brightening as he placed a hand on his hips while making a childish gun hand gesture, "The names Jack, Jack-of-All-Trades, obviously not my name, but very much the same since the Mafia took a liking to the title. A pleasure!"

All the while he spoke his name, the target went pale as a sheet. Cain clapped unexpectedly, earning a flinch from the target as the man cowered away from him. He leaned forwards.

"You're George, right?" George moves to reply.

"Don't lie, George." And promptly swallows and nods.

Cain beams, "That's great! I'm so glad that we came to an understanding."

The target groaned, looking warily at Cain before jolting violently because oh my god the assassin was pointing a fucking chainsaw at him. Cain's eyes glowed a sinister purple as shimmers of his Cloud flames flickered across them, a nice smile attached to his lips.

"You know the drill. My client wants to know who murdered the 3rd son of the Vongola Nono, and you're suspected to have a hand in the plot. Tell me everything, George."

George looked like he was going to shit his pants, but pulled himself together as he stuttered. "I don't know anything! I swear, there has been a misunderstanding, I would never attempt the lives of the Vongola heirs-"

Cain starts the chainsaw.


The assassin hummed, turning the saw off as he leaned on it, "I heard the Varia just recently returned from Japan, something about a Succession Trial with another set or something. Heard they lost."

George gaped as bored lilac eyes inspected his nails, "T-There's another heir? When did this happen!?"

Cain faked an 'oopsie' as he dramatically looked apologetic towards the target, "I forgot I wasn't supposed to reveal things like that to morons, but yeah, there's another heir somewhere in Japan. Don't know whom, but the Varia sure isn't happy with the results, leaving destruction and broodiness all the way back to Italy! Thank the flying fucks I ain't in one of their blacklist, because everyone else are dead. Dead, dead, dead, and dead, falling victim to the wrath of Xanxus Vongola!"

Cain smiled at this, observing the shocked eyes of George, most likely contemplating this turn of events. Though, the man's short thinking ended when Cain butted in with a dark aura, a plastered smile on his lips despite the suffering bloodlust in the air, choking George.

"But George, you have a lot of nerves for lying to me." Cain spoke, eyes going colder and colder as his smile dropped. "What's the first thing I told you not to do?"

George trembles, "D-Don't lie, George."

"And what's the first thing you do?"

"I lied, sir." George admitted in defeat and Cain tilts his head.

"You've disappointed me, it makes me wonder if you really do want me to torture you." To prove a point, Cain fished his duffle bag, emptying to reveal the falling weapons of all kind, falling and falling and falling, and still falling out of the bag.

Jack-of-All-Trades stops, picking a claw up in ennui fascination, "Oh, it's been awhile since I've used these!"

The target gulps, sweating profusely as he watches with speechless terror as Cain walks over, the deadly claws on. Preventing George from shirming, Cain placed a gloved hand on his shoulder as the other armed hand hovered over the wavering, crying eye.

Lilac glowed purple, "I will ask you again, who killed Federico Vongola? Who did you sell the information to? No, better yet, where did you hide the body?"

George whimpers.

It was cold outside the mansion since it was night and all, but Cain was starting to freeze his ass off. So reaching out the remote from his coat, Cain pressed it with indifference. The next moment, the mansion that must have been at least millions of money with irreplaceable artifacts, went up in flames. Cain turned around before hovering close, feeling the warmth seeping into his cold bones, and purred.

Ah, sweet warmth.

After a while, and concluding that yes, he still had a job to finish, he pulled his duffle bag over his shoulder and strutted down the hill. His client was a total obsessive jerk, and decided that no, waiting the next day was not an option. Cain should totally stop doing jobs for the Vongola, pricks all of them, especially the lion of CEDEF. That man takes the Prick Award of all time. Basil was nice though, so innocent, and so cute, makes you wonder how a prick like that earned the respect of such an adorable follower.

And besides, he got all the necessary information of what happened to Federico Vongola, and Varia was definitely not the ones who did the deed. Unlike what most people thought and accused, Cain scoffed, foolish single-minded morons (coughCEDEFcoughEXCEPTBASILcough). The Vongola's been careless these days.

Cain took a turn out of the forest, humming a made-up tune as he contemplated his bed, and the best way to leave the information without confronting the jerks. Now that he thought about it, he should probably start lying low, too many people beens asking about his existence, and he was not about to expose his identity any time soon. And seriously, he needs a bed. No, a shower first, he smells like a monstrosity. No bed deserves such punishment.

Nodding to himself, Cain looks around to search for the parking lot he saw nearby while heading here, he might able to steal a car. Maybe a sweet motorcy-

"Mou, I won't be here for long, Cain. Take care of the brats for me."

"VOOOOIIIIIIIII! Cain, get a move on, you fucking shithead! There's more Millefiore to the east of here!"

"Ah, Cain-senpai, Bel-senpai won't stop stabbing me. Tell on him."

"Ushishishi, you'll die you know, froggy. Ne, Cain, go to the south with me, I don't want to be left alone with this snarky kid."

"Ala, Ca-chan, take care of yourself out there, I'll heal you straight up when you come home, yes?"

"Don't you dare fail boss, Cain."

"Scum. I'll fucking kill you."


What was that?

Cain blinked his eyes dazedly, fingers gently pressing the side of his head as snippets of images flashed across his head. This was new. He's pretty sure that none of these events happened, and was that Xanxus of Varia? What the fuck was going on? And did Cain just see a panther pop out of a ring box? Did he just see kids fighting a marshmallow white man? DID HE JUST SEE HIS FLAMES GETTING SUCKED OUT OF HIS OWN BODY?

Cain halted himself, breathing in as he calmed his racing head. This was the first time he's ever felt this surprised, and murdering the Grene Famiglia was not one of them.

He's been through a lot of shit in his life, but getting involved with the Varia has never fucking happened. Who possessed him to even think about joining an assassination squad that would kill his ass if they found out it was he who stole a couple of, more like a hundred of the headquarters fine meat. It wasn't even for a mission! He had done it as a joke to prove his acquaintance wrong when the Boss of the Varia actually destroyed the left-wing of the Vongola Mansion in a fit of anger. Which was a ballsy move considering that the boss' father happened to be the Vongola Ninth.

Sure, Cain had confidence he could outrun the Varia, maybe even fight one on one with them, but all of them? He won't even be killed. He'll be fucking brought back to life, skinned, killed, and resurrected, just for them to do it all over again.

Whatever it was, Cain's taking a nap first. He'll deal with this crap another day. Client be damned.

All in all, he took that deserving nap 2 days later when the client bitched at him, and hunted him down, then proceeding to sick him with more task. Cain should really start reconsidering taking job offers from the Vongola, they are pricks (coughCEDEFcoughEXCEPTBASILcough). So here he was, snuggled in the comforts of his bed as his ten pillows scattered around his bed like a giant slumber party that serviced only one man. And yes, he fucking deserved this.

So Cain was just enjoying a moment of peace when he heard the faint sounds of disturbance outside his house, and Cain has never felt so grateful for his great sense of hearing, because HOLY FUCK-

He was not prepared for his wall- yes, his freaking wall- to be blown down by an orange laser beam, letting the wall remains to destroy his thankfully empty furnitures. Cain thanked whatever god was up there for safeguarding his precious bed, and that not even one spec of his bed was scarred. Cain lifted his bedhead slowly, tired lilac eyes squinting at the wall from under his bedsheets as he heard the new incoming sounds.

"VOOOOOIIIIIII! Whoever is fucking named Cain, show yourself, trash!" A long silver haired man screamed, skidding into the room like a hound.

And following the loud, so very loud and annoying alarm clock, came the people that he saw in his head a couple of days ago minus a frog. Much younger of course, looking very excited or stoic because they just blew up his (wall)? Cain doesn't even know anymore, but all he knows is that these morons ruined his nap, and that they were all looking at him as he was looking at them. Especially the dark haired man who stared at him with red eyes and was currently giving him a rather vicious smirk.

"I found you, trash."

….Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand back to bed.

I hope you enjoyed this story/idea! Hope you R&R on your way out, and enjoy your wonderful day.