This wasn't how the mission was supposed to be executed. Get in, kill the target, get out, and go home. Simple enough, but the plan was obviously flawed. For instance, I would've known to prepare better had my boss told me the artisan was carrying two kilograms of bombing clay. Or had I known his partner was in the general vicinity, and would become his backup. Had I known he was an S-Rank criminal, I certainly wouldn't have wasted my chakra because he'd found me out, attempting to assassinate him from behind, not too stealthily either. Here's a good one: I wouldn't have face planted when I saw him, if I had known he was that good looking.
Most importantly, had I known just how good he was, I wouldn't have been caught so easily, letting my guard down, thinking he was an easy target. However, nothing went as planned, and I'm really the only one to blame. Rao told Izai I wasn't ready, but the guy put me in the field anyway, apparently a big mistake.
I'm bet Izai thinks just like I do, that just because Rao's an old fart, it doesn't mean he knows what's best. Of course, I'm always hearing Izai and I are a lot alike, and to say that we think alike wouldn't be too far off.
Thump, thump, thump. Clack…Click. Someone's entering the room.
I can't see them; they blindfolded me as soon as they captured me, letting my blood trait go to waste. But it doesn't matter, because I know how many there are: two. Shallow breathing, sort of raspy. The other's breathing was heavy, nearly growling under his breath, but fairly quiet nonetheless.
They're here to interrogate me, I'm sure. But you see, they really don't need to. I don't know anything, but they'll never believe me. I'm a ninja, capable of fighting, certainly capable of lying. That's what they'll think, but it's true. The protocol for my company is, there's a client, sure, but you never meet them, so even if you are captured, you can't give away anything about them, because you don't even know who they are. The company's the same. No name, no face, just jobs. They're not all assassinations, no, but they're the dirty jobs, the one know one wants to do, the ones nobody else can do.
Rustle. I hear rustling of fabric, and than a sound of fire being started. Hiss. A lighter. A faint hissing sound, and then an intake of breath. Exhale. One of them is smoking? I chuckle, because it's rather amusing. Even on the job, whoever it is seems rather lax.
Grind. Suck. I replay those noises, which is it? Disgust, or are they finding this just as amusing as I am?
I contemplate asking them for drag, it's been a couple weeks since I've had one, but I haven't kicked the craving yet. Ha, would they give it to me? Doubt it. These guys don't seem that lax about their job. Tap, tap, tap.
I hear one of them reach forward, and they clasp the metal cuff that's currently over my left wrist, and shake it a bit. They do the same with the right, but they still don't talk.
I can't tell if it the one that just grabbed the cuffs, but someone grabs my chin, and tilts my head upwards. I don't fight it. That's something they tell you: don't fight. Even if you want to, it's only going get you hurt, or worse. Tell them everything, do what they say. It goes against everything you've been raised to do, but you have to.
The man let's go of me (the hands were rough, even for a ninja.) The same hand replaces itself atop me head, and ruffles my hair. What the hell? Is this some joke?
Chuckle, chuckle. "She's a cutie alright." Inhale, and huff. "Doesn't fight much either." The guy who's been smoking has been examining me. What's the other guy doing? Observing? Am I going to be sold to the smoker? I'm going to be their whore.
"Mm, Sasori said she was quite the fighter when she tried to assassinate Blondie. Where do you think all the fire's gone now?" Low grumble. The men's conversation seems one-sided. Tongue-click. "… She's tense." Damn.
"Hey, say something… You're not mute are ya?" My lips twitch, pulling upward slightly. I should be scared, but I can't help it. I lower my head, and a start laughing. Not insanely, but whole hearted laughter.
"No, I'm not mute… You mind if I have a drag? I've been dying for one." Snort. "Yeah, sure." The fag is held to my lips, and I suck. Sharp exhale.
"I like this kid." His head turns towards the other male, probably. "Leader wants you under observation for the next couple of days, but if you meet our standards, we might let you out early. Fucking prison sentence, if you ask me." Sniff. "Whatever. You tried killing Deidara. But you also failed at it, so you obviously don't pose a threat. He isn't exactly our secret weapon, if you know what I'm saying." I snort now, because it sounded like he just insulted "Blondie".
Without a word of goodbye, the smoker left the room, leaving me alone with Mr. Silent. I don't know his name, so I shall call him Mr. Silent.
"I'll be taking my leave. But before I do, I'll inform you, meals will be served at 7 AM, noon, and 6 PM. The food here isn't cuisine, but I have a feeling it won't matter. You'll be receiving two bottles of water every 3 hours, drink all of it." Brush, brush. Click. Jingle, snap. SLAM!
After he finished, he left me, alone to my own devices. Actually, my lack of devices. I turned my wrists to get a good feel of how much chain I had, and I'm pleased to say it was actually very much. Two feet or so: which was more than enough room to be able to go to the bathroom and eat. I reached towards my eyes, to pull the blind-fold off, and activated my aforementioned blood trait, giving me the ability to see my surroundings.
My cell was about 8' in height, length, and width. Certainly an interrogation cell if I ever saw one. There was a cot to the right of me, in the back of the cell, and a toilet on the opposite side. A change of clothes was lying on my bed, and two water bottles lay beside it. From what I could tell, the toilet was pretty clean. Next to where I was sitting on the concrete floor, was a pair of shoe covers, though I'm sure, since I wasn't wearing any shoes, I was supposed to wear them as is.
I wasn't wearing my job outfit anymore either, instead I was wearing a large black T-shirt, which hung just below my butt, and was nearly falling off my shoulders. How come I hadn't noticed before? Because the chair was covered in cloth, wasn't it? I let my hand graze the smooth fabric of the chair, before standing up, and moving it to bottom end of the cot. I sighed, and decided to sleep.
The water.
I forgot what he said just a few minutes ago. "Drink all of it." Did they drug me? Is the water drugged? Should I really drink it, if I think it's drugged? Comply. I lifted a water bottle, and opened it, licking my lips before bringing it to my mouth. With uncertainty, I took a sip, but it tasted fine. I knew it didn't mean it was, but I also knew if I didn't I'd be answering to one of them, so I took a large drink, and then guzzled the rest. Though, thinking about it now, I shouldn't have guzzled it. Because now my stomach hurts…
I layed down, and patted my stomach, until I burped. Better.
I wanted to fall asleep, so everything would go faster, but my mind was racing. Everything they did brought a new question up. Why didn't they kill me? Why am I here? Where am I? What do they want with me? Why are they treating me so nicely? I'm a hostage, aren't I? An assassin that tried to kill one of their members, so why didn't they just kill me?
Who was that guy?
My whole body ached; my mind had only just now registered that. My eyes started to burn as well, chakra having already been nearly depleted; my eyes were straining to see now. I shut them, and concentrated on sleep.
My mind became foggy as I drifted into a state of rest, and I wasn't sure if it was drug induced or what, but I knew I'd wake up feeling better than right now.
Five men gathered in a dark room, one was sitting; another had their upper half laying over the couch, which the other guy was sitting on; one leaned against the wall; and the other two stood.
"We need to figure out where that girl came from. If she was sent from Konohagakure, it might be an infiltration, rather than a botched assassination." The man who said this had wild black hair and piercing red eyes, and was looking towards the orange-haired man. He shook his head.
"From what Hidan and Kakuzu have examined, even if she was from Konohagakure, she's not Anbu Special Ops, so it's not likely they'd have sent her when they have plenty capable ninja, plenty more capable than her." Leader nodded, and dismissed them. He'd need to find out more.
A platinum blonde huffed, and buried his face.
"She'd be a real good sacrifice too…" A masked scowled, and hit him over the head.
"Nobody said we're keeping that wench." The blonde laughed so hard he fell off the back of the couch and landed on his bum, but still continued to laugh. The other four turned and watched in feign amusement as he laughed uproariously. He wiped the tears that I had formed at the corners of his eyes, and lifted himself up. That's what he was hoping for. A nice, little, virgin sacrifice.
"Hidan. She's under observation, and if anyone gets her, it's not going to be you. If you haven't remembered, Zetsu hasn't been fed in weeks. He's getting a little testy." Hidan scoffed. "So I'll give him the remains. As it is, I haven't prayed to Jashin in a month. You know how pissed my Lord is gonna be?" He received a punch in the gut, and a stabbing to the arm for that, slicing the vein efficiently. "Ah… Fuck you, Kakuzu!"
He clutched his bleeding arm, and glared at his partner for inflicting his wound. Kakuzu didn't even so much as blink. He stared for a few more moments, until he started feeling dizzy from blood loss. He passed out around three minutes later, and Kakuzu picked him up, and carried him to the infirmary, one of the few sterilized rooms in the base.
He stopped, and called over his shoulder, "While I monitor this moron, somebody else needs to observe the wench." He never call anybody by his or her real name. This guy gives them names he'll remember, because he'd like to think they're not important.
"Tomorrow" A venus fly-trap looking man spoke up, "We don't get to fucking eat, do we?" He growled in frustration, while his nails left indentations in his hand the harder he fisted his hands.
"No. I suppose you don't. I don't believe he's going to let you." The orange haired man rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, and sighed. 'Not her', he thought.
He melted into the floor, leaving the orange haired man to himself. He let his face rest in his hands, and rubbed his eyes, momentarily letting them circle his piercings. Her of all people?
Why... Why HER?