The moment the car flipped, Killer Queen manifested.
Joey and Gon locked eyes. He pressed his thumb down.
The vehicle vanished in a flash of light—erased.
They landed cleanly, rolling into crouches.
Right then, black sedans skidded in with screeching tires, headlights slicing through the dark.
Dozens of men in black suits poured out, weapons in hand. No words.
Gunfire erupted.
Joey had already guessed it—this wasn't Illumi or Hisoka.
The timeline didn't fit. Nove's message had just arrived. Illumi would still be near Killua.
This hit... was someone else. And not just random.
They were being targeted.
Joey glanced down just before the crash—Gon's phone signal had cut.
Signal jammer.
They couldn't call Nove.
The only way to send a warning: destroy the "exit" Nove had installed in the car.
Hence, Killer Queen.
Not just a weapon—a signal. A tactical reset.
Joey's gamble paid off. The ambush wasn't random.
Gangsters. With guns. Too organized.
His guess?
Fourth Prince's faction.
Given his ties to the Ai-i family, one of Kakin's biggest syndicates, it made sense.
Trading favors for local muscle was easy.
But then—how did they track him?
He hadn't sensed anything. No surveillance. No aura tail.
Which meant... a distant type, like Palm. Someone who could scry, spy, without ever getting close.
But where had the activation condition been fulfilled?
No time to ponder.
Joey raised his fingers—finger-guns stance—and fired a volley of nen bullets.
Meanwhile, Killer Queen's crested wrists spun, deflecting bullets with the backs of its hands, dancing through streams of lead.
The ones they couldn't block, they dodged or tanked with hardened nen.
Every nen bullet Joey fired struck true.
The gangsters—ordinary humans—never stood a chance.
They couldn't see nen.
They couldn't sense attacks.
They couldn't dodge what they didn't understand.
Slaughter.
Even without attaching Bomb #1, Joey's basic nen rounds tore through them like paper.
Gon, meanwhile, had it even easier.
Reel pulled. Rod drawn.
Every swing of his fishing rod knocked someone unconscious.
Steel met skull. One swing, one collapse.
They were steamrolling them.
But they stayed alert—where were the real threats?
Then—whistle-thin shriek.
A bullet.
Angled perfectly.
Heading for Joey's chest.
Killer Queen had just blocked a volley. Joey had just evaded two shots to the leg.
He was wide open.
Nowhere to dodge.
Too late to leap.
Too close to deflect.
Sniper.
Precision.
Joey's eyes narrowed.
Vent ports flared—a sharp burst of nen rocketed his arm forward to intercept.
This was the same arm that'd been shattered earlier, only just regrown.
No time to hesitate.
He braced.
The bullet hit his arm.
No pain.
But—
The world fell silent.
No gunshots.
No wind.
No Gon's voice.
Just… nothing.
Auditory deprivation.
A curse bullet.
Joey processed instantly—a conjurer, probably.
The bullet hadn't pierced his skin—but just brushing his arm was enough.
Through nen-enhanced vision, he'd seen the aura.
And this wasn't just enhanced ammunition.
This was a vow. A contract.
Touch = trigger.
Defense didn't matter. The bullet phased through "Ken" like it wasn't even there.
He watched it drop to the ground, inert.
He never heard it land.
That confirms it. Conjured ammo, maybe six shots total. Each one steals a sense.
Hearing was gone.
Could it steal more?
He wouldn't wait to find out.
Joey adjusted his movement—no more defensive dodging.
He'd rather take hits from normal bullets than risk another cursed one.
And from that shot's angle—the shooter was among the last ten standing gangsters.
Joey clenched his wrist.
A coin slid silently into his fingers.
He flicked it. Fast. Low arc. Masked by his posture.
One gangster flinched. Just a twitch. Just a glance.
Got you.
The coin glowed with nen, its form shifting in midair.
Feathers. Wings. Beak.
It turned into a bird and veered sharply toward its prey.
Boom—! A car door slammed into its path.
Blocked.
Joey detonated it immediately.
Not a disintegration bomb. Just a regular explosion.
Still—enough to scatter debris and buy time.
Someone else was hiding.
The car door was coated in aura—"Shu" technique.
Meaning a strength-type user. Likely a bodyguard.
Whoever they were, they were watching his every move.
The gunman vanished during the blast.
Streetlamps had been shot out in the first minute.
Darkness was now the enemy's shield.
Joey checked his glow-in-the-dark watch.
48 seconds since the ambush.
The rest of the goons were down—either riddled with nen bullets or sleeping from Gon's rod.
But at least two nen users were still hidden.
Then—something lunged at Gon.
Joey turned.
Wolf jaws. Muscular limbs. Four-legged sprint.
A beast.
But not an animal.
Not the Shadow Beasts. Not Mad Dog.
No.
A Demi-Human.
That's what Kite had called them.
Specifically, a Lycanthrope—Wolfkind.
Joey's memory fired.
Kite's notes:
Lycanthropes: Hybrid of human and wolf-like magical beast.
Claws like knives. Fangs that tear steel.
Disease risk if wounded—until a 1785 company made soap and toothpaste that neutralized it.
Outcasts from their northern mountains. Many fled into cities, vanishing into underworld shadows.
This guy was one of them.
Joey scanned the flying car doors.
A glint.
Another bullet.
He tossed a coin.
Cat.
Big. White. Soft.
The cursed bullet bounced off its fur.
No harm. No curse triggered.
Excellent. Gold Experience creations can block the effect.
The cat blinked, confused.
Joey stomped behind it.
It leapt in surprise.
Good. Still startled. Hearing intact. So that curse bullet earlier… must've been auditory only.
Joey unwrapped a lollipop, poked it at the cat's nose.
No reaction.
But smell... maybe taste too... hard to test on animals.
He popped it into his own mouth. Bitter. Cherry? Didn't matter.
Six senses. If each bullet strips one… then six bullets = instant win.
But he'd only been hit once.
That meant four left.
Doesn't matter.
He wouldn't get hit again.
Not now that he knew—
His constructs can block the curse.
He wouldn't fall for it again.