Sly Fox

Chapter One: Shall we dance?

"The police are still searching for murderer Naruto Uzumaki. Unfortunately, no one has ever seen him completely without going insane, and has proven to have begged Uzumaki to kill them." The reporter gave a visible shudder before continuing as steadily as she could. "We only know his name. Mysteriously, all past records of him have been destroyed or missing." The news reporter said gravely, as a supposed picture of a blonde man appeared next to her. "Police say that he may be travelling under an unknown alias, but they are certain Uzumaki whisker-like markings on his face, that may be tattoos. He is armed with a cleaver. Make sure if you see someone who matches the descri-"

Gaara Sabaku turned the T.V off after hearing the same words repeated the day before. People didn't need a rerun of the Uzumaki crisis flashing in front of them every time they turned the T.V on to watch the news.

The whole city was in a frenzy when a past murderer by the name of Naruto Uzumaki suddenly began to kill people again. There was no connection between each murder, except he always left them with three whisker-like cuts on their cheeks, similar to his own.

Gaara sighed to himself and went to his kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee. He had work at midnight and he couldn't get a murderer to stop him. He needed that money to pay off his landlord, or else he would probably get evicted. But then again, he only needed to pay only a quarter of it, which wasn't too bad.

Finding that the coffee wasn't working, he went to the bathroom to wash his face. He looked at his reflection. His hair was a blood red that was spiky and slightly fell over his eyes. The tattoo of the kanji 'ai' rested just above where his eye left eyebrow was supposed to be. He had the tattoo done in his younger, rebellious years. Apparently, having a facial tattoo made people assume he was Uzumaki. He often sighed when they stared after him and on one occasion threatening to call the police if he didn't stop loitering in front of a restaurant, but then realizing a murderer wouldn't just walk around the city- or wait outside a restaurant- like a regular person, and that Uzumaki had whisker markings on his cheeks, not a bloody kanji on his forehead. Gaara shook his head. Reflecting on these things always gave him a headache. And insomnia. The dark rings around his eyes from said insomnia made his pale green eyes even paler. His skin was pale as well from lack of going outdoors. After all, he did work in a funeral parlor.

There were always dead bodies waiting to be embalmed in the funeral parlor (and shipped off to their families, but there were more now, thanks to Uzumaki. It seemed the funeral parlor he worked at happened to be the only one in the city that had accepted taking in Uzumaki's victims, and it happened to be that it was somewhat close to the police headquarters. So now the basement of the quaint, quiet parlor had become a sort of 'Uzumaki's Victims Morgue'.

Thanks for making my life even worse. Gaara thought bitterly to Uzumaki, going back to finish his coffee. He searched around his small apartment for his phone, and when eventually finding it, shoved it into his coat pocket and quickly left his apartment. Running down the stairs -because the elevator took forever to go up or down-, he had just over ten minutes to spare. He lived on the third floor, which wasn't too bad. He felt extremely sorry for the people at the top floor.

Unfortunately, Gaara did not own or know how to drive a car, so his only option was to either take the bus or walk. Taking a bus was a big no-no at midnight, due to most of the passengers being drunk or on a high from late-night partying in a club. The majority of the partying people were university students, and in Gaara's humble opinion should be spending the time to study. They were extremely lucky to be accepted into a university; he himself had given up applying for one, basically because he couldn't think of what course to take.

When Gaara finally reached the funeral parlor -it wasn't that far away, about ten minutes walk if the traffic wasn't being a fucker- he was greeted with the familiar smell of chemicals and the voice of Sasori, his boss and also his cousin, telling him he had barely made it in time before the disinfectants wore off and the corpse would begin to smell.

"You're the only one here today." Sasori stated as Gaara trudged to the metal table. "You okay, little cuz'?"

Gaara grunted and swapped his dark-red trench coat for the sterilized white lab coat. After the usual routine of washing his hands and pulling on the gloves then donning on the mask and apron, he sighed and took his position on the other side of the table. The body in front of him was just a normal one, not one of Uzumaki's victims. Thank God. Uzumaki's victims often didn't look human after he was done with them.

"The others have already scrubbed and disinfected this one, so we don't have to do too much." Sasori said, obviously attempting to lighten up the mood. Gaara nodded. Sasori lifted the cloth partially off the body to reveal an old man. Gaara had read the autopsy report in the morning; died from old age, nothing too flash.

Sasori looked at him with concern in his eyes as he grabbed some wool while Gaara lifted the eyelids and turned his gaze away from the shriveled orbs. Sasori gently prodded the wool into the sockets, then deciding to speak up, causing Gaara to flinch slightly. "That Uzumaki murderer thing bothering you?"

Gaara sighed, delicately picking up a gun that resembled a hypodermic syringe filled with formaldehyde and injected it into gums as his cousin pulled back the cheek and upper lip. "He's just a nuisance. I wonder if he ever considers where all the bodies go after he's done playing with them. Does he even know that people have to clean up his mess?"

"Be careful, Gaara. You don't know who might be listening." Sasori warned as he took the gun and quickly did the lower jaw as well.

Gaara rolled his eyes and continued to treat the body with Sasori. His cousin threaded a wire through both of the jaws to keep them closed while Gaara stepped back slightly and watched. He never really liked touching the body after it was dead. Sasori gave a little sigh as Gaara apprehensively pulled both arms from the old man's chest and fixed up the legs so they were straight.

Sasori handed Gaara the scalpel, nudging him slightly for encouragement. "Make sure it's nice and neat." Gaara swallowed and made a shallow, bloodless incision into the hollow of the old man's neck, then neatly placed it back on the table; it felt odd now, cutting up a body like Uzumaki did. He wasn't affected much by it, but it was the lingering feeling in his fingers that worried him slightly.

"Good." Sasori stated, inserting a small metal hook into the hole and extracting an artery and a vein before knotting some string around each one. Then, he made quick little cuts into both, making sure not to go all the way through. "Get the pump ready."

Gaara compliedand pushed the pump next to the table and inserted the cannula into artery and the drain pipe into the vein. The drain pipe was attached to clear tubing that connected to the drain in the floor. Gaara made sure to tighten the strings around the artery and vein and earned an approving nod from Sasori.

'What the hell am I doing with my life?' Gaara thought as he connected the main hose to the cannula in the artery. He stepped back and swiped quickly at the red hair falling in front of his eyes. The smell of rotting meat hidden by strong disinfectant followed his hand. He wrinkled his nose when it became stronger. 'Why couldn't I have gotten a 'normal' job?'

Sasori watched his cousin from the table. He gave an inward sigh when the scowl on the younger's face deepened. "Hey Gaara?" He received a grunt in response. "Can you get the anti-coagulant?" He let out a quick curse when Gaara threw him the bottle and an audible sigh of relief when it the bottle remained nestled in his slippery gloves. Shooting a warning look at his cousin, he poured the chemical into the tank on top of the pump. Screwing the top back on, he threw the bottle back and smirked when Gaara cursed and barely caught it before it hit him. "Next time, don't throw it." Sasori chided.

Pushing the button, the pump gave a start and copied the sound of a heartbeat as Sasori checked the knobs that controlled the pressure and speed. Gaara watched silently and muttered a quiet, "It's working." as the thick, dark blood was dragged into the drain.

Sasori gave a quick glance at Gaara and motioned him to take over. Gaara sighed and slouched over and handed his cousin a conditioner. Sasori sighed as well and poured it in and stood back, arms crossed, to let Gaara do some of the work himself. After all, he didn't pay him for nothing. Making sure Gaara poured the actual embalming fluid in the right order, Sasori ticked off his mental checklist and nodded when Gaara finished by adding the special perfume to cover the corpse's odor. Gaara slammed the lid down and followed Sasori to the next room, because it was too dangerous with all the chemicals inside.

Sasori kept the door slightly ajar and placed two plastic chairs close by so that they were facing the room to make sure when they sat down, the pump wouldn't regurgitate it's contents onto the floor -which it had once, and caused the whole place to stink of decaying matter and strong chemicals- in a silent and deadly matter. He took his gloves off and removed the mask, breathing in the slightly cleaner air. "Tea?" he asked Gaara, who nodded in reply.

Gaara watched Sasori disappear into another room and wearily sat down on one of the hard, plastic chairs. He too, had removed his gloves and mask, which were extremely uncomfortable.

"Expect payment in a few days." Sasori said to him as he re-entered the room holding two steaming cups of green tea. Gaara gratefully nodded and took the cup and sipped the scalding beverage. "I'll let you take a break for a week, okay? You look like you need it."

Gaara smiled appreciatively, but even Sasori could tell it was slightly forced. He had known Gaara ever since they were kids. And so he knew almost every emotion his cousin had, even if he was blank most of the time. He was only eight years older, but he had harbored a sort of 'parental' feeling towards him ever since… 'that' happened. Heck, Gaara was still a little kid in his eyes. If he ever called Gaara a little kid, he was sure to get a sock in the mouth and the familiar reminder of: "Sasori, for the last time, I'm twenty years old." But technically Gaara, his younger cousin, was still a 'little kid'.

"How's life, Sasori?" Gaara muttered as he blew on the tea. He wasn't usually the one to do small-talking, but the silence was becoming extremely awkward. And he felt he as if he was drifting away from his cousin. He didn't exactly want that, he owed Sasori a lot. It'd be a jerk-like thing to do to just blow him off.

Sasori started at his name and gave his younger cousin a small smile. "It's alright, I guess. The neighbourhood's really quaint as it's always been, but it gets rather lonely sometimes." He turned to Gaara and frowned. "Are you sure you want to live by yourself in that horrible apartment? You could always move in with me again."

Gaara declined the offer. He remembered how ecstatic he had been when Sasori begrudgingly let him move out. He suddenly had felt free, not tied down to anything. It was just his own problem that he didn't exactly have the right amount of money to rent the fanciest apartment in the city, but the one he lived in now was good enough, although it was a bit small and dirty. He really should clean it someday. "It's fine." He reassured Sasori. "I'll probably send the electricity and water bills off the charts if I move in with you again. The apartment only requires me to pay rent every month, I don't have to pay for how much water or electricity I use. So relax a bit, it's fine, Sasori."

"Aright…" His cousin said doubtfully. "If you say so." He shot Gaara a worried look that was brushed off with a quiet, mild sigh. Sasori glanced at his glow-in-the-dark watch and gave a sigh of his own. "It's getting rather late, Gaara. Or should I say early?" He showed Gaara his watch, who noted that it was almost one-thirty in the morning.

"Nice watch." Gaara said dryly. He wasn't being sarcastic; he just didn't feel very enthusiastic nowadays.

Sasori grinned at him and patted the watch affectionately. "It's amazing, isn't it? Alarm, glows in the dark, and it can even record speech! Technology nowadays."

The younger cousin smiled lightly at the other's energy, and suddenly felt much older. He shrugged it off as him being tired. "Shouldn't we finish the embalming?"

"Our old pump usually takes a while, and I'm pretty sure it won't explode if we go home a bit earlier, hm? We'll check in the morning. It's not like anyone will find out." Sasori said lightly. His cousin shrugged in reply. But he could easily tell that he wanted to eagerly get out of the parlour.

Gaara got up to leave, swapping his lab coat for his trench coat and said goodbye, but then realised it was raining heavily outside. Thunder rolled its way over the city while lightning bore down on the tall buildings. 'Great. Just great.'

Sasori noticed too and reached for his car keys. "I'll drive you home. We might as well lock up now. Besides, I don't want you catching a cold and spraying your pathogens in the parlor."

Gaara declined the offer with a slight scowl at Sasori's teasing. And anyways, he didn't need his cousin to see how his living conditions were and give him money so he could rent a fancier apartment. He hated it when people felt sorry for him. Besides, it wasn't like Sasori was swimming in money. Instead he looked around. "Is it okay if I stay here until the storm lets up?"

Sasori stared at him skeptically. "Here? In the funeral parlor? With dead bodies?"

Gaara allowed himself a little smile. "Yeah. Don't worry; I'll lock up after, okay?"

His cousin sighed. He knew there was no point trying to turn his younger cousin's mind. "Fine." He looked sternly at him. "Anything happens, you call me. Immediately." Sasori hugged him before leaving and running to his car. By the time he got in, he was already soaked. 'I hope he's going to be okay'. He started the car and began to drive to his home.

Gaara, on the other hand, wished he had taken Sasori's offer. He had never actually stayed overnight; this was his first time. 'How does Sasori do it?' The funeral parlor was cold and the fact that there were dead bodies lying around in the basement under him weren't doing anything to help him. Especially when a few of them happened to be Uzumaki's victims, his defaced, broken, poor, poor victims.

'Screw it. I'm just going to go back. This place doesn't feel right.' Gaara got up to leave, giving the place one last look before forcing himself into the rain. 'Bad idea.'

The rain was so heavy; he could barely see his hand, which he was currently waving in front of his face. Gaara realised he had locked the funeral parlor from the inside and Sasori had the other keys, so there was no way he could go back in there without breaking the door down and setting off the alarm. He ended up sullenly taking refuge in a covered alleyway. The shops were all closed and if he tried to open the door, no doubt he would be arrested for 'forced entry' and set off another bloody alarm.

Gaara slumped against the wet brick wall as he checked the time on his phone. 1:47 am. And it was still dark. There was no sound except the pattering of the rain and flickering bulb of the lamp post; not even the occasional car shooting past, or the sound of walkers. And he was in the bloody city. Where the hell were all of them? Drunkards and drug dealers and loud adults from nightclubs? Where were they all? It wasn't a public holiday was it? The redhead snarled at his inability to remember public holidays. Christmas was important, Labor Day too. They were the important ones. Oh, and New Years. That brought Gaara's count to an amazing three.

'I'm not sleeping here. I'd get murdered.' Gaara thought to himself with no humor. 'But a car might hit me if I try and cross the street, so I'm just gonna stay here and get hypothermia'. The rain was making it difficult to see anything, let alone a car streaking down the seemingly abandoned and empty street. The lamp post's light was flickering eerily, but even then, it was extremely hard to see it.

After a few minutes passed and the temptation of the clear road was too much to bear. Gaara decided he would try to get back to his apartment. After all, it was only a few minutes away, and there was practically no traffic whatsoever. He growled when the flickering light offered him a tempting view of the empty, rain-slicked road. There weren't even any cars parked along the sides of the road. The traffic light switched to green and absolutely no cars came forward. Maybe if he ran? But what if it was one of those bad luck shit that happened in the movies? What if he actually ran for it, and got hit by a big-ass motherfucking Hummer? What if?

The redhead pushed away the pessimistic thoughts and stood up, ready to leave, when a figure walked into the alleyway. It was walking towards him. Slowly. So slowly.

Gaara could see something glint in its hand.

It was a cleaver.

Hi there guys. It's been a while. Anyways, thanks for sticking with me.

Uh... I haven't actually finished editing all the chapters yet, only up to Chapter Three, so I'd advise you not to read Chapters Four and so forth. It doesn't join up if you do, so yeah.

I'm an impatient person, so I was like: Whatever, just give them some entertainment while you type like a mad person.

And thanks a lot to TigrezzTail, for letting me know that apparently this system won't let you review the same chapter twice, so if you would like to tell me something, just PM it to me, and I guarantee I'll reply.

So what are you waiting for? Go and read up to Chapter Three (And Chapter Three only.)