This is my fiftieth story! Yay! This is also my second Deisaku item (Fitting was my first). I honestly didn't expect this story to really happen. It just formed after I was thinking up a story between a serial killer and this detective. It was just a one-item idea, but as I thought about it more and more, it just grew wings and started knocking around my brain until it got its way. Now Deisaku is a pet love. It shall never take over the spot reserved in my heart for Kakasaku, but it still gives me the warm fuzzies. I'm not sure what the schedule will be like since I can only write for this story when I'm in my 'fuck the world, you all suck. You're all a bunch of idiots,' depressed, brooding-angst mode, but lately my sophomore year is causing me to feel like this. This is essentially my vent. Please read and review.

Key: "Talking"
'Thinking'
Flashback

Disclaimer: Do not Own Naruto.

Chapter 1: Arrival

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Footsteps echoed in the dark corridors. Around him, he could hear yowls and screeches and he closed his eyes. Not because he couldn't stand it, but because his head was throbbing in pain. Opening his eyes once more, he saw the hall and the sparse grimy naked bulbs above his head spin, sending the seedy underbelly before him into a tailspin highlighted by the white lights.

He could feel rocks scrape at his knees and dazedly, he felt blood drip over his right eye. Looking to his sides, he could just make out the patterns of the Anbu operatives' masks as they dragged him to what would be his home for the next few months. Under his breath, he cursed. He was a feared member of the Akatsuki, an S-class nin; how could he have been captured?

"Stupid mistake, unn. Stupid fucking mistake," he laughed bitterly, listening to the echo. It was broken and crazed and he hoped in some smaller part of him that it was just distortion from the surrounding walls.

Watching as the cobbled rocks passed underneath him, he let his mind wander back to his foolishness. It had been a simple mission. Get the scroll, bring it to some warlord, collect the fee, and skedaddle. It was simple, easy, and it would be peaceful since that dipshit Tobi wasn't going to be there bothering him, but only 500 meters from the drop-off point, he encountered some Konoha nin. They asked him where the scroll was. He said he didn't have it, which wasn't a lie since he had handed it off to the warlord earlier for a tidy little sum, but when they started asking him again and again expecting a different reply, he started getting a bit testy. That warlord wouldn't stop talking and now he was sick of listening to anybody.

They fought. Naturally they pulled out their swords and he pulled out some clay. The fight itself was a bit bland. Despite their Anbu status, they weren't much of a fight. A slash here, a jab there; all of which he dodged easily since they all fought in the same predictable manner. Eventually he started using a fraction of the clay he would normally use in a fight, and watching them flounder as they tried to dodge his attacks, he began to relax. They weren't a match for him, but that was before that stupid bitch in the falcon mask cut away his pouch of clay and it was suddenly carried off by a man in a wolf mask.

He started panicking. The clay was essentially the only weapon he had and he swore revenge, only to have a ninjaken come hurdling towards his head. He dodged it, but not enough. He caught it in his shoulder and as he hissed in pain, she hit him so hard in the head, his skull cracked under the skin. Dazedly, he realized that the rest of her team began emerging from the trees with only a scratch on one or two of them and felt them grab him by the shoulders before passing out.

So here he was, under the village stuck inside their jail with others like him because he had been careless. It was so stupid; it was ridiculous. How could he have let his guard down? He had let it all go to his head and now look at him. He was beaten to a pulp and he had barely managed to land a scrape on any of them.

"Your jail cell."

And weakly, he raised his head up, staring out of his one good eye because the other one was swollen shut to see a cell the size of a small bedroom. Spiders climbed the walls and in the faint light, he saw a sheen on the rocks making up the three walls and floors and wondered just what it was.

The cell door opened and he was tossed inside, landing against the opposite wall and he sighed at the cooling sensation the rocks offered his raw skin. A slight clinking noise was heard and he recognized it to be chains from the cold grip they left on his wrists and ankles. Moving his limbs experimentally, he realized that he could still move them freely, but he could only go so far without the chains tightening. With the amount of slack, he estimated he could go, at the most, about halfway.

A loud creaking sound and he looked up to see them close his cell door before leaving. Across the hall, he could see the stone wall separating two cells from each other. With a tired sigh, he let his lids droop slowly closed, too tired to keep them open, and let himself fall asleep, lulled by the erratic shivers of chains and the maddened howl of the man next door.