Warning: the following program is classified ' T and over 'as it may contain scenes that will harm particularly soft hearted people. Also, those that are easily offended by Out Of Character-ness are hereby warned as the author doesn't feel like pushing the fact that I am NOT KISHIMOTO SENSEI, so not everyone will be exact. Yaoi, and other goodness will be upcoming soon :0)
Spoiler Alert.
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Prologue: Nightmares
The heavens roared before lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the night for a few brief moments as rain fell in a torrential downpour over the ground, turning dust into puddles and filling concrete crevices with soiled water.
It's late.
The light that flows in from the window is a hazy moonlight that ebbs between the darkened clouds that suffocate the sky. It falls over sterile floors, dripping through curtains and glass, sinuously over the thrumming and whirring of machines against white washed walls, the erratic beeping pulsates into the night air.
It's cold.
It feels likes he's dreaming, as he sat in a disjointed haze of pain on blood stained linoleum, cuddled into the corner of conjoining walls, the harsh material biting ruthlessly into his raw skin. His heart is pumping explosively against his chest as he sucks in dry processed cold air that tastes like antiseptic. The blood is beginning to clot against his tanned skin, staining a brown sticky mess across his arms and sweat pant clad legs. It resides in a jelly like substance at his toes.
He's aware that he's bleeding everywhere, there's a disgustingly strong taste of ammonia in his mouth. He tries to ignore it but he thinks he just might be sick. His stomach wretches as he holds down the bile in his throat.
There is almost absolute silence, the machine that whirs sporadically is the only source of noise, but his crimson eyes stay locked on the door, waiting, calculating and daring.
There's the sound of slight pressure outside the door, as if someone's standing right outside it, fingers on the handle, listening intently for movement inside. It does nothing for his fragile psyche that is beginning to break under drug induced trance, and he's fears something bad will happen if that door was to open.
The creature in his mind wanted to play, and his toys never survived his games.
Seconds pass and nothing happens. Smoothly, the handle bends and the door opens a fraction. There is no light in the hallway, only pitch black and swallowing shadows as the door continues to swing, sinister and smoothly. Somebody is standing there in the darkness, extending his game with the demon.
His crimson eyes snap open to reveal slitted pupils, and he's unsure of why there's suddenly so much noise surrounding him or even where he is. There's yelling, someone screaming his name a blood curdling screech. He scrambles to his feet; finger tips first, almost ripping muscles in his haste to get up, tripping on his own feet as if he's lost all motor function.
A light flickers on, spreading yellow rays all over the dark room, revealing the tragedy being held within. The room has been smashed, broken glass and equipment lying scattered across the floor in chaos, barely recognisable. The operating table is covered in thick coagulating crimson swirls only needing a frame to convert it to picture status. Surgical gowns have been ripped and thrown across the room, falling to the floor in a macabre display of confetti. There are burn marks littered over the walls, staining white with thick bouts of black and thick claw marks are imbedded in the surface as if something wanted to escape out of its confines, but couldn't.
That's not what releases the demon in his mind that growling and begging to be unleashed again.
The corpses, oh god, the corpses. They're strewn over random intervals, faces locked in a permanent expression of pain and fear, jaws slack and eyes wide with tongues lolling over teeth, pale skin torn from pink muscle. The lucky ones are recognisable, with only claw marks littering over their bodies. The closest to the man have limbs torn and scattered across the square room, smashed jaws, missing organs and if he wasn't in such a panic as the death choking the life out his lungs, he would have noticed the dust was crushed bone.
He's standing in adrenaline induced frenzy, back plastered to the wall, as masked men flood into his nightmare and assess the grotesque scene before them with amused eyes. The demon in his head is laughing, a deep reverberating sound which forces him to snap to attention. There is a needle in one arm, ripped leather restraints marring both wrists and shackles biting into the tanned skin of his ankles – eyes flashing a deep red, face dark and dangerous.
One of the men moves, and out of pure instinct, Naruto with supernatural strength rips the surgical table out of the floor, the shriek of tearing metal ignites as he hurdles it at him, the object crunching and catching the masked men off guard, colliding with his chest and sending him colliding to the floor with a sickening crack.
Naruto stands, breathing heavily, muscles trembling, mind registering, lips baring elongated fangs, and he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears like a raging river. Red eyes look from either side of the room, frantically assessing the distance from the wall to the window, to the door.
He doesn't know why he starts to shout Sasuke's name. He thinks it might have to do with the fact that in his drug induced delirium, Sasuke's face is the only thing he can see through the mass of bodies and gore that surround him. Like a beacon, displaying weakness and broken promises.
When one of the ANBU root moves, he doesn't see.
A blow connect harshly with his spine, his own hands barley stopped him from falling, the skin splitting as orange mist bleeds from the sever, surrounding him a thick blanket. Naruto's foot connects with someone head in a jagged movement, disguised as an animalistic dance.
He's still yelling Sasuke's name, because he can't think of anything else coherent, as he stands heavily breathing, slightly hunched at the knee and arms curled in anticipation. The orange mist continues to burn and shred his skin like a thousand icy fingers, breathing deep with the cutting edge of a razor, face almost savage, facing down another masked ROOT, not seeming to notice the one he'd knocked down before getting up an moving behind him, forming a human cage.
An arm encircles his neck, drawing his vision sharply upwards, crushing his windpipe until he gags and gasps for air sounding vaguely like a choking animal. Naruto can see the panel of glass that observes the room, the silent watchers looking down with twisted snarls on their faces. Danzou's sardonic grin is laughing at him, just above and looking down. Naruto raises his head, not registering the small whimpers of repressed pain as the orange mist burn the occupants in the room.
Behind the glass, the door concealing the display room from the outside world explodes; bits of wood, concrete and plaster shoot inwards and shower down innocently like snow. The council members shout but the noise is muted to his ears. An arm are snaked painfully tight around Sakura's waist and shoulders, dragging her backwards from her gallant leap at the grinning Hokage, and is thrown to the floor. Naruto can see her snarl mutely at the man, chakra laden limbs restrained from connecting with that mans scarred face. At the opposite ends of the room, others are being forcibly restrained, all pulling forwards.
Pressure is being forced on Naruto's knees, and they buckle as the hamstring snaps, but somehow he keeps his eyes locked on Danzou as many hands begin to push chakra in his body against his back, aiming to restrain the demon, and he can hear someone yell for sedatives.
He doesn't want to go back to sleep again because there will be more bloodshed. There's a jabbing pain between his shoulder blades as he keeps staring up, searching for a way out.
Only, there is no way out, there never has been.
He knows, he god damn knew, that somehow he would end up in this situation, stuck between captivity and freedom, human and monster, hell and earth, dancing near the flames with the intention of being hurt. His fate is being sealed out of reach, as his eyes leave and meet the endless depths of turbulent ash. His charka explodes, throwing his restraints away from his body as he leaps for freedom.
But life is cruel and sardonic, it laughs at him with barely constrained mirth and amusement.
Breaking glass flashes and splinters, as his hope shatters, laying in jagged pieces across the ground. His clawed fingers grab the soft flesh of an aging throat, skin and muscle weak underneath his powerful hands. Naruto had crashed through the viewing panel, and collided with the bane of Konoha, the true monster in its depths, as sedatives, drugs and antiseptics burn away at his conscious mind.
He can't hold the bile in his stomach anymore, he turns, claws digging into the throat in their grasp, half convulsing as something tears its way up his stomach and oesophagus from the bottom of his stomach. It's the smell that assaults him first, ammonia, blood and rejected drugs. Its clinging to the inside of his lungs, and that high metallic aura makes his eyes burn.
Crimson liquid travels up his throat, and he chokes on it, lungs wracking as his stomach heaves aggressively from his abdomen as he falls to his knees, claws raking deep rivers into Danzou's skin. He knows that the man is smirking when his eyes leak thick clear water,
"I'll kill you," Naruto thinks, as he wretches and writes on the floor in a disgusting display of weakness, "I'll kill you for everything that you have done"
Over and over again, like a mantra he screams in the back of his mind,
"Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke... I'm Sorry."
The world blurs and slips and the nightmare have come, plaguing with vengeance.
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