Chapter Text
Noun: rat; plural noun: rats
There were a handful of meanings for a word as common as rat. The most obvious association was with its animal counterpart: the long nosed and elusive rodent who roamed cities and caused fear in the hearts of any urban dweller. No one ever wanted to see a rat, but there were far worse creatures in the world, but none were better associated with disease or plagues.
A more derogatory definition of the rat was that of an informant, or a person with loose lips, spilling secrets to whoever could guarantee them some sort of benefit. Someone who could be deemed a snitch, or a snout, or a betrayer of some sort.
Generally unliked and hard to gain the trust of anyone after adopting the role, but hopefully well worth it in the end.
In the same note, rat could also be a term attached to someone who frequented a particular place for far too long, gaining a reputation of someone easy to track, or easy to predict. If one spent too many nights drinking, or lounging, or loitering, they could be nicknamed a bar rat, a mall rat, or a street rat, or something else of the sort.
The last infamous definition of rat, or perhaps a more known one in smaller circles, was to be a devious, self righteous, and self absorbed individual with little disregard of anyone else. Now this definition wasn’t just created on a whim, but rather, had been cultivated through many Hunter circles, shaped and molded to be the perfect way to describe a person like Vice Chairman Pariston Hill.
Well, ex Vice Chairman. And ex Rat too...but labels didn't define Pariston. Even though he had stepped down from the Hunter Association, he still had all the perks.
And he would always be a Rat, regardless if it was official or not.
Now Pariston was inclined to say that no definition of rat could really be applicable to him, especially not the last one. He was personable, sociable, well liked amongst his peers! Everyone wanted him around, and his attention was a blessing, not a curse.
Plus, it was a Rat’s prerogative to do as they wanted.
There had never been an instance in Pariston’s life where he was scowled at, disregarded, or avoided like the plague (no this wasn’t sarcasm). Strangers loved him; peers yearned to be him; Pariston even had his own Fan Club and Magazine (yes, he was absolutely being modest)! And to add to his many great accomplishments, he was a fashion icon, a statement piece - he only owned designer attire to his name!
Quite frankly, Pariston felt a little bad for those who couldn’t hope to match up to him and his reputation, but he would never hold that against anyone. Pariston was humble, and a sensitive soul. He had even allowed the cranky, unsocialized, hermit Ging take the place of a dear friend to him. What an honor for the Boar to have, and Pariston was so thankful that he had thought to be so kind to the Double Star Ruins Hunter (who spent more time playing in sand then seeing his own family) and allow him to be associated with the one and only Mr. Hill.
It was an act of charity!
Pariston couldn’t help but smile, oh so dazzlingly, to himself in his first class seat on one of the Hunter Associate Blimps. He had booked a private flight to a remote island with a small population of barely over a thousand citizens for this week's vacation. His Fan Club run by Cutie Beauty herself, demanded he travel the world and document the sights of some of the places people would never be able to go to. Fashion, food, or even Gossip, it didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was profitable.
This week, Pariston had decided to use the Hunter Association Credit Card for something a little unconventional. Consider it a…home visit, of sorts, and definitely magazine worthy.
Glancing outside the window of the blimp, Pariston noted that the weather was perfect, with bright blue skies and rich blue water. It matched with the off white suit he was wearing, adorned in a silvery blue pattern that screamed ‘I might be a little too pretty for where I'm going, but welcome me there anyways.’ The pants also had tearaways at the knees so they could convert into shorts if Pariston felt that the vibe was off, and the suit itself was light and breezy.
As the blimp started to make its descent onto the whale shaped island, Pariston beamed as he pulled out his phone and clicked a button, watching it shift in form as little propellers freed themselves from the side and the device began to fly. Hovering a little over eye level, which was Pariston’s perfect angle, his vlogging setup was ready. When Cutie suggested he purchase a selfie stick, Pariston had almost lost his composure at the thought of carrying around his own equipment. It had cost some money, and a full abuse of power of the robotics sector of the Hunter Association, but Pariston had his very own drone that would record him at only the most opportune of times.
“Hello my fellow PariStans! Today I’m going off the grid to a remote location belonging to the hometown of the infamous Ging Freecs! This is by far not my first visit, and hopefully not my last! Now before we go, let’s do a fit check, for all the fashionistas out there. Make sure to note that this suit is from the Pariston Hill Early-Mid Summer Edition.”
And with that, Pariston made his debut in the small port town, shocking most (if not all) inhabitants with the entrance of an oversized blimp with only one, sparkly passenger.
The smell of ripe fruit and fish being hauled around off of boats and left a little too long in the sun was the first impression Pariston had gotten from Whale Island. He had mastered the art of hiding his true intentions and displaying only the highest quality of poker face, so no one could quite figure him out. With each upset or inconvenience, Pariston would only smile a little wider, knowing that this was all but a means to an end. “What a true show of camaraderie between neighbors, each selling and buying exclusively from each other! It really does take a village,” Pariston provides a grand gesture of waving to curious bystanders, effectively changing their perception about him. With towns like this, they loathed outsiders, and it took much to gain their trust. After a few moments of speaking highly about the quality of life on the island, and mentioning that Ging Freecss was more than just an acquaintance of his, Pariston became the talk of the town.
When he had come to the island previously, it had been at night only because he had been enticed to follow Ging to wherever his private corner of the world was. Having even a smidge of information on Ging was equivalent to gold, especially if Pariston could use it to his advantage in the foreseeable future. Pariston had always known about Ging’s impromptu child Gon, and the fact that his only living relatives also inhabited the island. Pariston had seen a pretty face, but mean tongued red headed woman the last time he had snuck around, and figured that she was the backbone in all of this. She had been the voice in the back of Ging’s head reminding him just what kind of person he really was, and that his priorities were most certainly out of whack.
She was the whole reason for this trip, to be honest.
The woman must know everything there was to say about Ging Freecss, and probably had years worth of details that Pariston could get his well manicured and moisturized, perfectly sized hands on. The vlog was just the excuse, but Pariston had his own agenda. The villagers were more than happy to give him a ride to the bar that lay on the top of the hill, the home of the elusive woman and the now nenless Gon Freecs.
Pariston was less than eager to see the boy, especially after the fact that he had been one of the last people in the world to see the bothersome Chairman Netero before his self caused death. Pariston was…a little jealous. Netero always made fantastic expressions when he was met with hard choices, and Pariston was disheartened he would never get to see the will to live escape the old man's eyes. That, and he had heard from a credible source (a terrified Knov) that the blast from the rose bomb that was in Netero’s heart had been the largest explosion as documented in history (not that it would ever be released to the public).
But Pariston was getting ahead of himself thinking about Netero, and knew that his discussion with Gon would eventually happen after he was able to get to the finer details with the mystery woman.
Through sheer charisma, Pariston had managed to extract some information from the old man who was his personal driver, and learned that the woman was Mito Freecss, Ging’s cousin. Pariston had wondered what her role in all this was, until it was revealed that she had raised Gon most of her life, and had taken the role of parent when Ging had left the boy behind to pursue his dream of being a hunter. Pariston almost wanted to laugh, thinking that Ging’s legacy was a video game and a few ancient ruins that no one had been able to find due to their geographical location being too far from any city, and the trip most likely boring.
With each new encounter, Pariston kept the drone rolling, recording all and anything that he could deem interesting for his fans. He did want to have a formal interview with Mito, but he knew that she would most likely be defensive if it was about Ging, seeing how the relationship was less than civil. Instead of going to her home, Pariston decided to take the high road and intercept Mito at the bar that her family had apparently run for generations.
Like a mouse drawn to cheese, Pariston tipped his driver handsomely (for the clout) and entered the Whale’s Tavern, probably named by someone who was a little short on ideas, but big on the thrill of owning a bar in an interesting location. The bar was the bottom floor of the Freccss house, and it was large as it was popular. Even though it was on the hill, the market was close by, and the houses on route lit the way with the front porches. It was the metaphorical cherry on top of the cake, a place for fishermen, workers, tired wives, and travelers to relax and drink their stress away. Naturally, Pariston entering was a pretty big deal. The usual bar rats (hah) regarded him with looks of scrutiny, especially as the drone followed behind him like a well trained bird. There were men and women serving drinks and food, but none who looked like the red haired woman he was hoping for.
Taking a seat at the bar, Pariston smiled and laced his fingers, finding the late afternoon breeze to carry the smell of salt and fried foods, not a bad combo. There were no personalized items in the bar, he searched, looking for photos, or memorabilia, or even something that would give him an insight to Ging’s childhood.
The bar was unmanned, which was odd, until finally the door leading to the kitchen opened and there she was, graceful and a little rugged. Mito Freecss was most certainly going to make his night, Pariston believed.
Mito had pushed her hair back and was adorned in a red dress, showing off a figure that alluded to hard work carrying ale and not just a simple homelife as a mother of one. She was young, maybe a little later than mid twenties, and her Cheshire grin was one that he knew too well.
If he was the rat, then she was the cat. Or a lioness in her domain.
“So you must be the one everyone’s talking about,” Mito stops in front of him, hands down on the counter and her brown eyes watching him sharply, “aren’t you a little far from home?”
Pariston waves a hand and fingers through a menu, knowing that anything on it wasn’t expensive enough for his tastes, but he would humor her. “Well, I just happened to be on vacation and Ging showed me this nice little town of his, so I’m here to give it the proper recognition it deserves. Plus, I can’t help but feel like you were anticipating my entrance a little too eagerly, why is that?” He humms and debates if he should call her by name, or wait for her to introduce herself.
Mito jerks a thumb behind her where the window of the kitchen door sits, and a pair of curious brown eyes stare back at Pariston. The spiky hair and Ging like features were hard to miss, although the youthful face revealed it to be Gon and not Ging. With a knowing look, Gon raises his eyebrows, and shrugs before returning to the kitchen and leaving Pariston’s sight.
“He could sense you a mile away, you all being Hunter’s and all. He told me this couldn’t be a coincidence either, so I'd rather you have a drink, tip well, get to the chase, and head back home.” Mito smiles a little coyly, finding herself funny. “And if you’re looking for Ging, you might as well try the other side of the planet. No one knows where he is, and quite frankly, the majority of people here prefer it that way.”
Oh, she was delectable. With a flare of confidence and a few low blow jabs at Ging, Pariston was already interested in whatever she had to say. This was the right choice for vacation, by far.
“Please, don’t let me stop you,” Pariston beams, pointing to a random drink on the menu that was whale themed or something. “I’d love to hear more about this place, and perhaps even you?”
Mito laughs and grabs a martini shaker, not falling for his usual tricks as she prefers to work on his beverage. She was a bartender afterall, she must be used to men and women trying to get her to talk and waste her time on them. “You’re trying too hard, Pariston. Is that how they do it back in the city? Out here, we like a little more grit in the conversation, and a little more back and forth. Why don’t you tell me why you brought your toy to a bar?”
Pariston gestures to the drone, “Why this is for security purposes. I am a little popular back where I’m from, and you never know when an eager fan can be hiding around the corner. It doesn’t bother you, does it Miss Mito? Or are first names too formal…however, you did use mine so I think we’re past being strangers.”
Mito shares a sharp smile, “Not bothered at all, and I heard from your driver that you asked all about me. He said you tipped pretty well for a foreigner, which has me thinking that you’re more interested in me then Whale Island itself.”
Loose lips, alright. It figured that everyone in the town would talk, and especially share information at the drop of a hat. It was a little exciting, Pariston had to admit.
“If I am interested in you, can I get my drink for free?” Pariston purrs, “Or would you do me the pleasure of buying you a drink? I don’t want to be the only one enjoying your trade.”
Mito finishes his cocktail and pours enough for two people, “Sure, you can pay for my drink, and a round for everyone here, if you want to really enjoy my trade. Gon will even make some crabcakes - he’s gotten really good in the kitchen since coming home, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to miss out on it. Even Ging has never tried his cooking.”
Oh, she was onto him.
Mito knew that Ging was the reason almost anyone came to Whale Island, and Gon had told her that Pariston was Ging’s self appointed best friend. Now that was laughable, considering how drab Ging was, and how dramatic Pariston was. It was almost a little funny at how desperate he was to get her to talk about her loser cousin. Plus, Mito read the tabloids, and was pretty sure Ging and this Pariston guy were a hot item. Horrible.
Not the best topic in the world, but hell, if Pariston had deep designer pockets, she was going to put him to work for what he wanted.
Abe Freecss, the sweet old woman chatting up guests in the back, knew Mito was going to put the bar through hell tonight as she played the city boy for a fool.
Pariston, not a man to lose in any regard, was ready to take on the challenge of getting Mito Freeccs to spill the beans.
“You know what,” Pariston grins, finding this to be exhilarating, “Make it two rounds! On me!”
Mito leans forward, matching his grin, “Would you like to put a card on file so we can run a tab, since we’re in for a long night?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Pariston barks out a laugh, pulling out the heaviest credit card he has, letting it clatter to the bar and making an audible thump, “I want to ensure there’s a reason to talk to you all night. Now, let's toast to new friendships!”
Or to a night at Ging’s expense, Pariston thought with glee.
“Cheers!” Mito and the other patrons shout back, rounds of shots making their way into eager hands.
Cheers to a night of playing the rat like a sucker, Mito beams, knowing this would be a record profit filled night.
Gon, from his post in the kitchen, can only laugh to himself as he starts forming balls of rice and crab, happy that Aunt Mito was having just a little bit of fun with his dads friend.