The Euclid-Alternative

August 3rd, 2021

2:32 PM

"Ehhhh…professor, you sure this is safe?" Upon the fiery depths of the legendary Mount Edna, scientific equipment littered the top of the opening, soaking itself in the poisonous smaug that perpetually seeps from its lava.

What 'Bubba', also known as Mr. Crowne by his professor, thought would be a simple observation trip turned out to be sample collection one. His enigmatic teacher jumped at the opportunity to get close to a live volcano. 'White people shit' Mr. Crowne thought as he declined down a rope. "And tell me again. Why cant you do this? Im the student."

His professor's fat index waved back and forth. "Ah ah ah, Zeke- oh, im sorry, Mr, Crowne. I am up here because I have done this before, you have not, time to pop your cherry." His slight india accent mixed with his statement almost made Zeke chuckle. Almost.

If not for hanging less than 100 feet away from a certain and painful death amongst what looked like the physical manifestation of Gehenna or Hell or whatever it was. His respirator made him smell his own breath, the humidity baked his skin, and to top it all off, he was wearing a full black hazmat suit. 'Burnin like slave, damn!' He complained internally.

"You know what, fuck this im coming up." Zeke proclaimed before trying to ascend.

"Wait! You have to collect samples." The professors body damn near stumbled into the hellpit. He was built unorganized, completely uncoordinated. This mixed with his panicky nature caused legendary circumstances of pure chaos. Such as when his foot slipped, crunching against the pike holing Zeke's line.

"YO-" He tried to get up quicker but the fat bitch rolled the rope out, untangling the rope holding Zeke, plunging him feet first into molten rock. At first he felt his ankles break from the fall. No amount of past trauma's however could prepare him as his skin combust. Flame rolled over his muscle and fat, deep frying his tissue in damn near an instant. His screams couldn't be louder, they broke his own eardrums.

Only 5 seconds was all it took for his eyes to melt out of his skull, the cartilage in his nose and knees vaporized to nothing. By this time he was already unconscious, his brain not being to compute this level of agony in such a short timeframe.

———

October 14th, 1984

7:30 AM

A city in the northern part of the Yorbian continent, to the northeast of Yorknew City. For years, this area, covered in Red Earth mountains, was very poor.

However, the Glam Caravan, a tribe of migrants, discovered a precious natural gas resource among the mountains. The caravan abandoned its centuries-old migratory lifestyle and settled near the deposits.

In the years hence, the land they'd chosen to call home became known as Glam Gas Land. Many came in search for the gas.

Obviously, the deposits were depleted in time. The Glam clan, made unbelievably rich by their management of the resource.

Next for them was another business…Casino management. Casinos built alongside hotels, and in order to pull large crowds, these hotels would put on shows. As if competing, these different hotels searched far and wide for only the best performers and 'magicians'.

As a result, show business became the emblematic trade of the Gas Land.

"-he dead-"

"Try poking him." The muffled voices of strangers slowly came to him. "Looks like he's still breathing."

"Go on."

Felt as a stick sharply poked his ribs. Sore as they were, his pain doubled from the poke. Tightly clenching up as another poke came to his shoulder.

"Yep…this kid is still alive." A distinct voice rang out. He couldn't see the people who spoke, to afraid to blind himself from the sudden light. "Maybe he got done in by bandits?" The deep voice asked.

'Obviously masculine, a man, 30-40 years old?' The injuree asked himself.

"Moritonio, lets hurry. We still gotta prep for the show." Another voice, intrinsically different, yet easily identifiable as a mans voice, perhaps younger the the first.

'Perhaps 20?' The injured boy asked himself, once again. Even injured, foggy and uncertain were he was, his brain took in information and sorted it appropriately. 'A show? Prep? Not rehearsal. Live performers?.'

"Just leave him-" the second voice continued on. The clenched up boy took no offense to the comment. He instead chuckled quietly, only noticed by one man observing the boy.

"Kid-" The first, older sounding voice said. "-Can you speak? Im Moritonio. Who're you?"

The boys dry, cracked lips parted. "…..Hisoka." He breathed out, throat seizing upon itself, desperate for hydration.

———

9:54 AM

A group of figures sat in a luxurious hotel suite. Pearl white couches that felt like the hug of a soulmate. "Im against it, Tonio." The largest man in the room, an obscenely obese man with four tattooed bars running over his bald head said. "-Taking in some random slum brat."

The man being addressed, Moritonio, sat comfortably, one leg over the other as he sipped his tea, his pinky raised of course. "I myself was once a pickpocket in a construction camp." He pointed out, his elegant top hat hiding his gold tinted glasses from the fat man. "Borizoi, you were once homeless. You're best times were sleeping in a dirty, roach infested bathroom."

Borizoi cringed at his triggered memories. "That was ages ago." He weakly retorted. The woman upon his lap, slurping on his ear gave him a stunned look. "We finally managed to get the opportunity to perform at the royal glam, and know you…-"

Moritonio gave the fat man an inquisitive look. As if saying, 'you think I dont know this?'

Borizoi sucked his teeth at the gaze. "The Royal Glam performance is just two months away. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to expand out of the continent." He raised his glass of wine as the woman resumed nibbling on his ear. "I dunno about you but I dont wanna throw any wrenches into the plans…get me?"

"Behind you." Moritonio replied instantly. The fat man turned, expecting an important guest, only to be let down by the sight of stray they'd picked up.

"Ughhh." He let out, exasperated at the sight of the boy.

If the kid noticed, he didn't let it show. Instead he smiled brightly, "My oh my, that was really something back there." He ignored Borizoi for Moritonio. "How did you float into the air and walk upon the ceiling?"

The childish innocence almost made him answer. "A magician never reveals his secrets." Moritonio replied as the fat man, along with the aroused woman left in a barely contained storm.

"Oh? Can I become a magician then?"

"Do you know any tricks?"

———

10:22 AM

"-and you card was…-" Hisoka held up a 2 of hearts. "This, wasn't it?"

The older man clapped, truly impressed. "Woah, even better than me. Who taught you?"

Hisoka instantly replied, "My mother was a very skillful person."

Before Moritonio could respond, a person came into the room, slightly panting. "Boss!" A girl, no older than 15, just two years Hisoka's senior. She had tan skin, fitting for their environment, clearly a local. What made her stand out was her mint-green hair pulled up into 5 knots. "I heard you all were back…-" the girl looked at Hisoka before passing him up, seemingly disappointed. "Is he here?"

Moritonio chuckled at her face and question. He knew she was desperate to see him. "Yes, Menchi, in fact right behind you." She turned with confusion marked on her face before exploding in energy at the person who met her sight.

"As expected, Master!" She praised as she ran into the seemingly empty corner. Hisoka's eyes widened in surprise. In the corner, a man sat meditatively in a comfort chair.

His exact features were lost on him as he wore ceremonial garbs made of leather, linen and cotton, coloured with white and gold, with rope bindings for both his upper body and limbs. His mask upon his face was completely golden, with a design that is both ominous and sunken, lacking any sign of remorse or emotion. Their are ropes for the mask is lined with cloth streamers.

His body slowly expanded and contracted, breathing in and out as he quietly meditated. "YO! Master!" She leaned in front of his mask, to excited to realize she was potentially disturbing the man.

"Yes?" His great, deep rumbling voice surged out, so rough it almost sounded like a commandment than a question. "What is it you want?"

"More-" The girl briefly glanced at Hisoka's still surprise ridden face. She leaned in closley, trying to exclude him from the secret but Hisoka still heard her next words clearly. "More nen training. I think I got the hang on Zetsu."

The giant man nodded sharply. "Come." He commanded as he rose from his position. Hisoka saw him at his full height. Perhaps one of the tallest people he'd ever see. He was broad at the shoulders, his muscles easily imagined just from his purposeful stance.

——

Basing my mc of Kratos. Taking inspiration to Kratos's characterization from 'War, Trickery, And Wisdom' go read it.