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Death Squad
rank; c
description; This unit of captured soldiers is warmed up and ready to party. A cell of missing nin we re-captured and tortured into nice blood rage. The only way they’re getting out of here is through you, so do your village a service and win. You’ll be facing one archer, one spearman and a burly iron knuckled brawler. All are entirely tai focused but don’t let them blow your head up too much, they still know how to kill pretty well.
reward; 50 experience, 1,000 ryo
minimum shinobi; one
mission status; interminable

It would be the earliest hours of the morning soon, and Akuharu had made his way towards a series of squat brown buildings clustered like mushrooms against forest-green fog. These were government buildings, asylums and institutes, the boring homes of accountants and the grand halls where dignitaries from places too far away to practically travel soon made new offices to discuss their trade. Of course, there were now more prisons than anything, dregs of war slopped into compact cells vibrating behind rust-thickened iron with the urgency of cockroaches. The spoils of some conflict grown pointless with time, dog soldiers, de-fanged and starving, sometimes children who'd done little more than fight for an ideal passed down by fathers they were forced to watch die. Akuharu could not help but feel...regret. Even though he'd not personally committed any act that could be deemed responsible for the war, even though he was newly a shinobi of the Hidden Mist, even though the great battles were not even memory for him, but story and conjecture delivered in raucous drunken outbursts from his Master while he was only a child. Still. It bothered him. How the proud could be made feckless and insufferable by defeat alone. How far men could fall once treated like beasts.

Down a corridor of curved street whose end fed back into itself, he knew that he'd come to the Cray Coil Holding Facility. It was a trick of topography; a neighborhood of old world architecture distorted by chakra and obscured by artificial mist to become a labyrinth that could not be solved. Every exit was really an entrance back into the center of the spiraling brick and stone outcroppings that constituted its maze-like walls. The skyline itself was also curved, so that the tops of the buildings seemed to run into themselves and reverse direction, and where a few sparse clouds and endless black and a block of rough cut moon should have spread above, there was only the mirror image of the ground beneath reflected back like a bubble. Guards were unnecessary, and also reluctant to volunteer; they'd be trapped as well. The only way to gain access, or truly escape, was through the young woman Akuharu soon stood before as he reached a giant mirror, that jerked inwards and broke and resealed itself from exploding shards every few seconds as he watched in awe. He let the crimson red leak away from his eyes, and spoke.

I'm...I'm Akuharu Uchiha. Is everything...what's going on in there? I'm supposed to be your temporary "kinetic operations specialist"? I'm sorry but I have to admit, I don't really know what that means. I've heard alot about the facility but...I mean...is everything alright in there?

He would start and stop his words, his body cringing every few seconds as the large mirror behind the woman stood like a door and broke apart and reformed like a dream. He shook his head and looked at her, really looked at her, and she smiled as if she'd seen the same reaction hundreds of times.

"Oi. S'okay. Calm yourself dearie and pay attention to these words only; s'not real. None of it luv. S'all an illusion, see? S'a simple door, one knob, well, three knobs if ye count the wankers trying to break through the other end, but ye get it, right? All's ye need is a simple touch..."

And she leaned over suddenly, grabbing him by the shirt, and kissing him rather aggressively. She most likely tried to aim for his forehead, but his height, as well as the startling shock and embarrassment Akuharu felt, forced him to fidget and pull away slightly, and her lips landed right over his right eye as it closed. She shrugged, chuckling a bit.

"...and the illusion should start to dispel for ye. Now, kinetic operations refers to killing, mostly, but, you're a special case. Going up against a real Death Squad, three man cell of Nuke-nin, pledged themselves to a cult, nutters the lot of 'em.. Been tortured for days, so, good and angry yeah, a bit wonky, might try to sacrifice ye to something. Be sure not to just...murder everyone. They might know something we'll need later. One more thing..."

She smiled, then looked a bit sad, placing her finger to her chin and looking into the sky as if she might remember some other bit of useful information to tell him.

"Nope, s'about it. Have fun."

Sure. Thank you.

Around Akuharu, the twisted imagery of the Cray Coil settled unexpectedly into...a featureless white building. It was like an enormous square, sunk partially into the ground and along the top, clear tubes as large as a man where stiff-faced civilians in laboratory jackets held clipboards and walked swiftly around, navigating tiny windows which led into perfectly equal twenty foot cells, wherein, groups of pacing ruffians could be seen running into the walls, oblivious. There was a reinforced metal bracing acting as a door behind the young woman, and the mirror he'd previously seen breaking and healing itself with liquid-light was a simple vibration, caused by three large men, beating against it with looks of shared madness. He surveyed the room, walking around to peer above and below the gaggle of prisoners who must have been seeing all manner of nightmarish obstacles preventing their pained escape; Akuharu saw an overhead vent structure that would allow him easy access to the room's center, and climbed atop its simple box structure. He pulled the grating away, and watched as the sound seemed not to reach his three targets, before descending.

So many hands and arms and feet. So many knives and crobars and pipework torn from old construction sites swung with petulant outrage without aim or skill. So much youthful rage. Akuharu was like a foreign organism attacked by white blood cells, who swarmed towards him, surrounding him, cutting off all possible chances of escaped as his hands deftly wove a pattern of handseals completed just as the corner of a vicious looking sickle would have claimed his head.

Katon: Akuharu.

(Fire Style: Enveloping Dawn/Double Evil)

The young men scattered in every direction, moving as fast as they could, unassisted by chakra and yelling slight obscenities soon lost in the wind as they ran. Akuharu refit his mask and looked down at Jasper's body, his hand frantically searching for a pulse. His Sharingan perceived the slightest flow of residual chakra moving in slow frantic oscillations away from the man's heart. God damn, that was close. Jasper was still breathing, though the movements of his chest had been hidden by Akuharu sitting atop him, and the Kirigakure shinobi stood, turning the boy slightly to inspect the wound he'd given him. He'd gracefully missed all of the boy's major organs, sandwiching the blade between his lungs and missing the delicate vertebrae behind entirely. While a shocking amount of pain would no doubt ensue, he would live, and with his hands moving through a series of seals, he shot a small sphere of katon chakra into the air, towards the direction of the tower. It would explode once it reached a distance of fifty meters in height, bursting into the rough symbol for 'dark side', the symbolic representation of the ANBU.

Seconds later, a masked figure would appear a few meters to Akuharu's right. It did not speak.

Quickly. He needs medical attention to stop the bleeding. The larger one with his face broken will be fine too, but if you could get them out of here, I'd appreciate it. I'm Uchiha Akuharu, Registration Number 399831-09X-U, Genin. I'm in the process of completing the Market District Crime mission. Their leader will be here soon.

Understood. Your identity has been confirmed. Your progress will be monitored.

And a suggestion for them both; though misguided, the larger one is very goal oriented, and the smaller one is quite observant. Prison would be a waste. They would make...interesting...candidates for Shinobi training. Thank you for the assistance.

The ANBU would only nod, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. Only barely did his crimson eyes catch a second and third ANBU scoop up the two injured men before shooting off into the dark in a flaring of densely packed chakra. The ground was still splattered in blood, though the only thing in the quiet streets of the Hidden Mist was Akuharu himself. He threw the stolen blade into a nearby thicket of leaves, and would wait until the sounds of approaching feet alerted him to his 'victims' return.

Crack. Though it was a sequence of sounds, the speed with which they occurred made it seem as if it were a single thing. A flick of the wrist allowed the kunai in Akuharu's clenched hand to drive itself through the bottom of its pouch and embed tip-first into the ground before him as simultaneously his body, flipping backwards through the air, would bring both feet to crash into the back of his blade-wielding assailants head. Launched forwards by the force of the blow and caught quite by surprise, the man, 'Jasper', would stumbled forwards...and trip over the awaiting kunai, releasing the handle of his own blade as he smashed face first into the ground. Akuharu's hand seemed to slide effortlessly into position to catch the falling sword of his attacker, which he held against the throat of the second man to 'speak out', his eyes darting across a group of three others who'd remained a bit further back.

He pulled the sword back towards himself, allowing its edge to drag a sharp discolored line across the man's neck and down his chest, as the pitch black of Akuharu's eyes slowly twirled into deep crimson, like the birth of a flame. The dramatic maneuver yielded the desired response, and the three youth who'd strayed from directly entering combat backed up, almost subconsciously, full of fear. They stared at his eyes as if he were a demon, and only the subtle bass of his voice broke them from their collective stupor.

Which of you is the leader?

Four pairs of eyes, against their will, drifted towards the young man bleeding on the ground, his face a contorted mask of pain leaking sad whimpers like a child.

Here, right here. This is where the world changed. Beneath a missing moon, where the sky churns clouds to cut ribbons of red to enclose a black sphere pretending to be the night-sister of the sun. There are several people gathered on a mass of rock in the middle of a long forgotten ocean. They are in a part of the world whose continents and countries have not yet been named, a place where savages sail on the whispers of their victims, and the cold seeps in from far more than the absent day. Akuharu is a very small boy. He is afraid. He bows his head as his master speaks.

"What is your name?"
My name is Hatred and Rage. My name is War.
"Who do you serve?"
I serve only those I am incapable of destroying, and my ambition.
"Where are you from?"
I am from Legend. I am a stranger nowhere. The world is nothing until it is mine.
"Why do you live?"
I do not. I die slower than those I kill, and I persist through the marks I leave on this world.
"What are you, Akuharu?"
I....I do not know how to answer, my lord. The oath ends there.
"And you have remembered it well, but now, I am not asking you to recite the words of the ancients. I want to know your mind. In your own words, Akuharu, think first. What are you?"
I am.....I am...a slave.

For the briefest of moments, an emotion crosses the face of the pirate-king known as the Six Paths of the Moon. It is the first time he's truly noticed his apprentice's youth. His helplessness. It is the first time he's realized that Akuharu is only a boy and is only doing and saying what he must to survive.

He looks into the terrified young man's deep black eyes and smirks gently, as the surrounding winds howl and gnash with frost-swept teeth and the others gathered on the makeshift island grumble among themselves in complaint.

"Savior...conqueror....hero....villain...you are all these things Akuharu...and yet...

"...you are nothing. Not without power. What do you want most of all?"
I do not know, my lord. I've never thought about it.
"Think about it now. If you could have anything you want, anything in the world, what would it be? Do not be afraid to answer truthfully. Is it my death? My head rolling around the floor of the Jagganath? A storm to drown us in fury and death and end your miseries? Tell me."
...I....I want.....
"Spit it out boy! Your own country? Servants? Knowledge? All these things are the hallmarks of power, of enforcing your will on those around you until you create that which your spirit demands to sate its hunger. Power is the answer to your ambition. Power is the key to true freedom. Power is what you want."
No.

And the pirate-king is taken aback by the boy's denial.

"No?"
I want a brother.

Akuharu turned. He was being approached by a man whose features at first seemed perhaps a delusion; there was something animal about his lurching gait, something severe seemed to motivate limbs from one contraction of dense muscle to the next and bring him heavily across the sands separating them by less and less each second. He towered over Akuharu, that much was clear even from far away, and as the seconds passed and he slowly stood to face the man with his usual evaluating seriousness, it was soon apparent what made the stranger different from other villagers he'd met.

The stranger was Klau'Teng Hakk. Akuharu had met their kind before, in the deep, in the black waves separating the core of the world from the dread things even hell will not swallow. They were thought beasts or demons. Dreams. Omens of a ship destined to die.

They were shark men.

He stared into the creatures eyes with a look of respect, before speaking up in Qoyta', the native tongue of the Klau'Teng Hakk.

Dun vangta'ghachmey chaw chang'eng tIQDu' moj quv jil.

It was a simple greeting, not too formal and not too familiar, one that merely expressed an intent to communicate peacefully and perhaps share the blood of a later kill for their combined enjoyment. He was careful not to activate his Sharingan, as he knew that the Klau'Teng Hakk understand the color red as a sign of weakness, and bowed slightly, but politely, without taking his eyes off of the creatures face.

YIlegh Akuharu, vo'tuq Uchiha.

He added, introducing himself with the slight nasal pitch that indicated his Clan did not contest the might of the Klau'Teng Hakk's own, but had enough kills and bull-males that it was to be respected as well. He was, of course, wary of seeming too peaceful; if he was perceived as an easy kill, the Klau'Teng Hakk would surely attempt to eat him, and he was, technically, no longer fang-brother to their Ahraga'lw. The Six Paths of the Moon's death had repercussions that seemed to be capable of reaching him anywhere.

He awaited a response.