The mission was coming to a close. Most of the leg work had been completed. The investigation was a success and now all they had to do was act. Just hours ago they were given the order to infiltrate and take down the organization they had spent months investigating. They call themselves HTS.

Said organization is a dealer of humans, located in the outskirts of Key Country. They would buy, sell and take what they wanted, who they wanted, when they wanted. No questions asked by the neighboring villages. For ten years young men and women from these small villages would be kidnapped from their homes or off of the street to become part of the trafficking industry. Not a soul dared report them. Eventually, HTS began branching out further and further from their home base. The men now in search of more exotic women and stronger, harder workers. The past three years they have been lifting people away from Fire Country, Wind Country, and even as far as Water Country. It took Konoha over a year and lots of back and forth from the affects countries to begin to connect the dots. At first it seemed as if there was no correlation. People go missing all the time. There are lots of reasons why someone could just up and leave.

But now here they were – a combination of Suna and Konoha Anbu, a team of eight – preparing to put an end to this problem. Weasel slid the last of his kunai into his holder, and looked out at the rest of his team. He and a Suna ninja, Rat, were leads in this take down and rescue mission. The plan was set in stone. They would leave their make shift barracks at 01:00. They would infiltrate, secure the innocents on hand, and then take down any hostiles. Three easy steps.

Weasel took a deep breathe, and eyed the ticking clock on the wall in the dark dank room. His nostrils filled with the scent of stale air. The second hand made its way around the circle, and as the clock struck one – he was gone.

Heavy breathing rhythmically sounded through the air. The guard had dozed off for the third time that night. He was slumped on top of a lopsided metal chair, death grip on a bottle of booze he had lifted from the party up above. "Another successful night," he had said to the men and women and the boys and girls that sat on the floor chained before him. Ten more had been added to their miserable group. His yellowed grin was the brightest thing they had seen in days. The basement was starting to get cramped, there is no doubt that they'll select from the group and remove some tomorrow – the unfortunate souls pushed to face a dark future.

It's a weekly repetition. Build up to 40, and then remove ten each day. Build back up, and then removal once more. It was a process that 'S' had seen happen over and over again. She was special though. They never brought her further than the building she was in now. S only knew what she observed. She didn't know where they were, why she was here, or what the people here were doing. All she knew was that she is S and that S is special.

She would be moved around monthly. They would pull her up and unlock the chains. She would be guided up the stairs and to a room so lavish that it made her stomach hurt. Sometimes she would put up a fight, sometimes she would try to scream, but time and time again her body would fail her, and no sound would come out. Women would meet her at that point, and bring her to the bathing room. They were always so gentle. They would whisper kind words as they scrubbed the built up grime off of her pale skin. One woman would sing to her, softly – her hands running through her hair with soap. After that she would be dried and dressed in a silk robe, her hair tied to the side in a loose braid.

Then she would wait. Sometimes for hours, once, for days. With only a glass of water by her side she would grow even weaker than how she was down below. She would wait for a certain man. He would enter and smile largely at her. His eyes as if they were filled with love. "S my love. I have missed you," he would murmur in her ear. Soon after his arrival a meal would come accompanied by wine. They would dine together, and he would share stories of his travels. The man would always eat steak, while S would receive a cup of soup and a plate fried vegetables. "Eat darling – you'll need your strength."

After dinner the activities varied. Sometimes he would touch her, and make her do things to his body. Some nights he would simply tell her to sleep. She never had a choice in the matter. In the morning, he would kiss her goodbye, and tell he would see her again soon. She would be left in the room for another day, and would then be stripped down and dressed in her old clothes, and escorted back downstairs with the rest of those whose lives were stolen by some run of the mill hoodlums.

It was a lonely life. She would be the only one to remain week after week. Occasionally those around her would talk to her. Ask her questions to see what she knew. As much as she wanted and as much as she tried she could not reply. Her voice seemingly lost with her memories of the past.

Laughter from the party above brought S out of her thoughts. She heard the door to the basement slam, and she looked up. A group of men stood before her. They looked on edge. Four men began looking through the frail captive bodies. One was grabbing the hair of women and pulling their heads up to see their faces. He would then through them back down. He shouted in frustration. "S," he called out loudly, "Stand the fuck up."

Obediently, S stood up as much as her chains would let her. On her knees was as much as she could manage. The man ran over to her and began to undo her chains. "We need to leave now." The man grabbed her hand and pulled her through the other people, shouts and cries rang in her ears as the man before her stepped on top of those who failed to move. The guard was awake now. His bottle had clanged to the floor and he demanded answers from the men who barged in. Clearly something was amiss.

The guard frowned as his mate quickly briefed him. Tonight had been such a great night. They finally secured this haul, and they could start moving product again in the morning. It was a shame that it had to be ruined by a single set off trap. For all they knew it could have been a raccoon or fox that knocked it over. But alas, protocol was protocol – and that was what kept them in business and making money.

He felt himself sobering up. One man would escort S out, and act as her guard. Boss would flip if she was injured or even worse, set free. Then three others would assist the on duty guard with maintaining the merchandise. The party upstairs would continue as to not cause suspicion, but everyone knew what was going on. This night could either continue to go very well for them, or be ruined by a raid that was bound to happen at some point.

Many have tried raids before, and many have failed. If a raid were to occur, and they successfully fought the fuckers off – that night would pack up the merchandise and move to their next base that was on hold. If the raid was successful, then who the fuck cared because they were be dead men by then. The guard eyed S and watched her ascend up the staircase to the upper level.

One man was stationed at each main wall. Every fifteen minutes a voice and noise would come through a handheld two-way radio that the original on duty guard carried. "All clear – over."

"All clear – over," he would mime back. The man chimed in once more over the device, and the guard replied dutifully. He set the handheld down next to him, and surveyed the room once more. Something had changed from what he saw just moments earlier. One man was not at his post. "Hey, Wall B – where'd the fuck you go," he joked out loud. After no response he moved to inspect where Wall B had been standing. Nearing his destination, something shiny on the other side of the room caught his eye. A flash almost, where wall man D was standing. Wall D was there no more. "What the – ," he started, but it was already too late. A kunai was lodge into his head through his eye socket and his body was swiftly transported away.

Tiger flickered in front of Weasel and dropped his most recent kill to the ground. "One more guarding the basement room," Tiger said. "11 minutes until the next check in." Tiger flickered away, and moments later he returned. "All clear," he sassed, imitating the simple reply Wall A had confidently said.

Weseal's co-captain nodded to one of the Suna anbu and then to a Konoha anbu and they flickered away. Moments after Tiger, Bear, and Lizard flickered away as well – to secure the hostages and provide basic medical attention. They all know their duties, and have committed the plan to memory. Bird appeared before Weasel and Rat, and motioned that everything is right on track – before departing once more.

The leader of the HTS had already returned and was locked away in his room just as anticipated. He was known as Ninjin, famous for his bright orange hair and slick personality. Weasel nodded at Rat and they both went on their way. Rat was to take down the inner circle. Those who were the 'right hand man' and 'number twos' of the organization, while Weasel was to take down the mastermind.

Weasel raced down the halls, remembering the blueprints of the building that they had studied. He had to know every nook and cranny. For an organization of this nature, he sure as hell was going to be thorough. He neared the entrance to Ninjin's room and stilled when he heard a voice talking to someone.

"Don't worry S, it's just protocol. There's nothing the boys can't handle," a man soothed. There was no reply, just unsteady breathing. The intel did not let them know that someone would be with the leader in case of raid, besides the guard standing in front. Apparently Ninjin was confident enough in his abilities to believe he could protect himself. He much preferred that the merchandise be protected first – at all costs. How admirable.

Weasel aimed a kunai at the neck of the guard standing by the door. The metal sliced through the first half of his neck, and lodge into the second half. Weasel caught as he fell.

With a single hand sign he took the form of the man in his arms. He placed his body down carefully around the corner of the hallway. Walking back to the door, Weasel paused to listen once more.

The air had changed slightly, "Stay in place. Do not spread your filth," the man inside shouted at his company. Weasel knocked on the calmly, the same knock that he had learned from certain sources that had been…disposed of.

"Enter."

He pushed the door open and met the eyes of the man before him. Ninjin was short and fat. He looked to be around 50 years old. His muscles from when he started in this trade have since degraded. His orange hair, now dull in color, was combed back with gel, strands were clumped together in thick pieces. He wore a full suit – vest, dress shirt, jacket and slacks. His shoes were polished without a spot on them.

In stark contrast on the floor near where he was standing was a young girl. Her legs were sprawled out underneath her, and she was hunched over – her arms supporting most of her weight. Her skin was pale, as if it hadn't seen the sun in months. She had large round brown eyes, and hair of the same color.

"Oh J – give me an update," the short man said facing Weasel.

"No changes as of yet," Weasel dutifully replied.

Ninjin smiled, "Good." He clapped his hands together and then gestured to the woman on the ground, "Could you please, she stinks, take her to the baths and clean her up."

Weasel nodded and moved to walk S to the large bathroom located in the back of the room. Ninjin walked over to his sitting area and made himself comfortable while he waited. His love would soon be clean again, and they would spend yet another romantic night together.

The door clicked behind Weasel, and he quickly checked the girl for any injuries or signs of abuse. Her mouth was in a tight line. She didn't know what was going to happen, but her gut wanted her to run. Weasel grabbed her face and looked at her intently. Panicked – S pushed him away with all her might. Taken off guard Weasel flew across the room. 'Such strength,' he thought.

He didn't have time for her to make things difficult. S watched in horror as his eyes changed color from brown, to black and then finally to bright red. Her body slumped to the ground.

Deciding he had enough, Weasel dropped the henge all together, and made his way back to the bedroom. He turned the knob and opened the door. Ninjin now had his back to him, and was messing with a puzzle cube in the chair.

"What? Not enough soap for all that dirt," the man joked, and turned around to face him. His eyes grew wide as he realized just who he was talking to. Weasel did not reply. He moved quickly. Reaching for his anbu grade katana. With one fluid motion, he drove it into his heart. Weasel then swung his arm down slashing through the now corpse of the lawless man before him. Blood splattered on the walls and leaked out onto the floor. His clothing and masked were now sprayed with red as well.

His earpiece quietly beeped. Weasel flipped the switch on. "Weasel, are you listening," the voice asked.

"Hai," Weasel replied. "Status update," he demanded.

"Hostages are still secure. They are cooperating fully."

"Dog- report."

"Crane, Cat and I were successful. All lower members of HTS have been eliminated or apprehended," Dog responded.

"Rat?"

"Five of the upper leadership have been eliminated. Two apprehended. All upper leadership accounted for. Weasel?"

"The leader has been eliminated. Secure the men you apprehended and your areas. We will meet in the basement in five minutes."

A unison 'hai,' and the members clicked off their receivers.

The soft click of the bathroom door caught his attention. The gentle steps of the young woman cautiously made their way into the bedroom. She gasped at the now blood covered room and froze in fear.

"Do not be afraid," he started, "We are from local villages. The men hear were doing something very bad, and we could not allow it to continue."

S tried to scream but still nothing came out. She turned and ran into the bathroom, but the masked man unfortunately followed.

Weasel activated his bloodline limit. Something ever so slight was off about this girl. She was cornered in the bathroom now, with nowhere else to run. Panic began to set in for the girl once more. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

'Genjustu,' Weasel thought to himself. He released what was cast, and before his eyes, brown faded away. Her hair turned a light bubblegum pink and her eyes a bright viridian. Her face although slightly more rounded than before, was still lean from malnutrition.

Before him stood Haruno Sakura, who had been missing in action for 17 months.

She showed signs of no recognition of the anbu uniform.

"Please – come with me. I will not harm you."

She made no move and Weasels eyes flooded with red.

"You are safe now."

The words repeated in her head.

You are safe now. You are safe now. You are safe now.

Haruno Sakura's eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her body collapsed on to the cold tile floor.