Hello friends and beloved readers. Since my mind has taken hiatus for Borderlines, and I am so incredibly swamped with work and stuff, I decided I'd like to offer a new thought to all of you. Let me know what you think of this idea, and if I should continue it or not.
Based loosely upon the movie Salt that came out earlier on this year. I came upon the inspiration while watching it, and decided to take a stab at the genre. There are quite a few likenesses, but I'll try my best to make it more unique than just solemnly following the story line. If you have any concerns, please let me know.
This is also a darker fic, some character death will be included - possibly - and the rating remains M for now, just in case for the level of violence and such. Alright? Anyway, please enjoy, rate, and review :)
- Recommended view; 1/2 page.
"You were created for this. You were raised to act upon the violent nature that has been manifested inside you. You are but a puppet, and I am your puppeteer. I control you, and you do my bidding."
-xXx-
Alone in the dark, she found herself once more. Cold, blind, completely unaware.
Dull vermillion eyes opened, just barely, so she might take in her surroundings. There was little her bleary sight could tell her; darkness consumed every inch, every crack that encompassed the room she was currently residing in. The faint but echoing drops of water, falling from great heights throughout the premises was about the only thing that saved her sanity, but only by little. Mere water could not save the mind from lunacy descending.
She shifted her languid stare to her right, hissing at the sudden brightness overwhelming her vision. A single shaft of golden sunlight came through a slot in the upper reaches of the space, but it did little to illuminate any detail of the obvious torture chamber that held no luxury.
Her body slumped, ever so slightly, the metal clanging at her wrists, and bruising her joints, eluding to the heavy chains binding cuffs not only to her arms but as well to her ankles. Another hiss escaped her dry, cracked lips, though nothing more than a wince was the result of this. Her head hung for but a moment, short locks of saturated pink drenched in sweat and grime which gave it a cerise vibrancy, falling in front of her face and hiding her eyes.
Her ears twitched at the faint sound of a metal door unhinging, the medieval sound foreign to her otherwise modernized hearing, but reverberating off the stone walls for an instant anyway, and another light flooded the room. Like a caged but hostile animal, she lifted her chin, vermillion hues glinting with unspoken malice as a looming figure entered the room.
The woman's vision phased out a moment, much like a television when two many signals intercepted one another, memories presenting themselves at the front of her mind. She had been in a similar situation before, albeit, not necessarily as a prisoner.
The shadowy form now standing but a foot away, revealed itself as a gruff and powerful looking ninja. She still could not make out certain details, but she could recognize him regardless. Sidonoa Kirimo was the man's name, his identity, though often hidden by aliases conjured up by himself. He was known throughout Wind Country as quite the criminal, and as to what he wanted with her, she could not yet fathom. He wasn't about to go around monologuing to her about it either, however.
A coarse chuckle emanated from his throat, causing the green-eyed woman to glare, and, summoning what little strength she still possessed, lunge toward him. The cuffs binding her to the wall gave little, digging into her flesh and drawing blood, effectively stopping her a few inches short of reaching her target.
Kirimo crouched down in front of her, hand lifting to cradle her chin with a forefinger and thumb, and with a little force, he pushed her head upward, insisting upon her looking up at him. Her eyes were already partially closed as consciousness began to fade from her body.
"Don't worry, we'll be gentle with you."
His voice faded to an echo, words blending together as her entire world sunk back into a dark, dismal abyss, his looming form imprinting behind her eyelids, and melting away into the background.
-xXx-
Her eyes burned as they cracked open, fragments of sleep digging into the corners, her eyelashes dusted with the remnants of sand. Her skin was pale and clammy, and for but a moment, everything seemed to be not as it should be. She felt out of place and her surroundings seemed relatively unfamiliar. Her breathing, though relatively calm, quickened ever so slightly as she shifted, readying her body for the effort it would take to sit up. She was stopped mid-motion by a strange weight at her middle. Curiosity more than panic filled her being, and she tentatively pulled the sheets away from her sweaty flesh to see what could be the cause. Her rosette brow furrowed, only semi-recognizing the male appendage slung over her bare midsection. She swallowed the pool of saliva that had formed in her otherwise dry throat, slowly moving a hand to remove the more masculine arm.
A groan sounded at her left, and her gaze darted toward where a mop of red hair was currently shifting, emerald orbs opening lazily to look in her direction.
"Sakura..." his deep, yet raspy voice grumbled tiredly. "Why are you awake at two thirty in the morning? You do not have to awaken until six."
Everything returned to her then, the panic settling and her body relaxing in its entirety. She pulled the sheets back over her lower body, exhaling a sigh, before smiling softly, and lovingly at the man, her husband, beside her. He was Sabaku Gaara, ardent and passionate lover, as well as doting spouse. They had been married for nearly five years, as of four forty, later that day, he having married her at a younger age. They had been sixteen when he had popped the question, and Sakura could do nothing but accept the Kazekage's request to become his wife. They had dated secretly before that for an entire year and a half.
Gaara's arm tightened around her waist, and a possessive growl filled the otherwise silent air, he drawing himself closer to his wife, and dipping his head to pay her neck some attention. "Go back to sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow."
Sakura couldn't help but chuckle at his antics, allowing her vermillion hues to fall closed once more, while her husband's sweet breath fanned across her neck.
"I realize this," she returned pleasantly. "But it has become apparent that you have other ideas."
"Perhaps," drawled he as he shifted his body over hers a little more entirely. His hands slid approvingly over her bare arms, and to the straps of her tank shirt, which had been cropped nearly eight hours before due to the intense heat of Sunagakure. With a deft movement, he slid them both down, revealing the lack of her bra straps, which he growled approvingly of once he took notice.
"Gaara, no, not now," Sakura insisted, kissing her lover on the lips before pushing him aside.
He fell none-too-gracefully to his side of the bed, a look of annoyance drawn on his features.
"We both have a lot of work to accomplish come daybreak," Sakura insisted, brushing her rose-coloured tresses from her face. "Tonight though, alright? Tonight is our night. You have my word."
The redheaded man who was just about as stubborn as a mule, gave a sound of frustrated agreement, then pulled the sheets up over his body, and turned away from her.
Sakura shook her head, crawling back under the comforting material as well. As soon as her head hit the pillow beneath, dreams overcame her mind, and slumber filled her body once again.
It wasn't until exactly five fifty nine that she awoke once more, her eyes open in a flash. It was this action that many had once told her of their unease; she appeared to be deep in her sleeping world one moment, but with the slightest of sounds, she could awaken, her killing intent easily exuding the area.
This morning, however, the intent was not there, just the aura that one gave off after awakening. The cherry-headed woman of twenty one years pushed herself up, stretching her slightly numb limbs and suppressing the yawn that threatened to escape her throat. Her strong legs slid from beneath the sheets, and with a fluid movement, she pushed herself to a stand. Adjusting her short sleeping shorts, Sakura made her way across the room to the washroom, where she intended to take a quick wash.
Thirty minutes later had her dressed in her ANBU uniform and drinking a cup of coffee. Her porcelain mask that resembled an ermine rested perfectly on the top left of her head, the red ribbon tied about the crown of her head, and finished with a bow at the ends. Only she had the pink hair that could be easily detected, but multiple henge jutsus would prevent her identity from being recognized, despite how striking her appearance was.
Her cup immediately found the sink once the brew she had drank was finished, and after once more looking around their kitchen, the fiore left the room, her swift, calculated steps leading her for the entry point of their illustrious home.
With Gaara as Kazekage, they were disallowed a quaint apartment in a disclosed location of Suna. No, due to his high ranking, it was imminent that they take up the home of the Kage. It was a colossal manor built in the most secure reaches of the village, protected by countless ANBU in case of attack. Of course, no one dared to assault Sabaku Gaara's home, not when he was skilled enough to convince the elements to do his bidding. Yes, his sand both fearsome and deadly, was also superior in many other aspects, those aspects making the woman shudder slightly at the thoughts. It would do no good to yield to them now, however, and she promptly dislodged them from her mind.
She reached the front entrance with vigour, pulling on her knee-high boots with the shin-guards ever hidden under the dark material, her weapons pouch coming next around her thigh. Once again, Sakura peered around the hall, and as soon as she was sure that she was not forgetting anything, she left the residence.
Her mind began to swim with memories, her dream forcing its way to the front of her mind as she walked down the set of stairs leading to the main walk. A look of consternation overtook her beautiful features, and she allowed her remembrance to take control for a little while. It was the most entertainment she received on her walks to and from the ANBU headquarters.
-xXx-
She was awoken again with a loud echo resonant throughout the room, her dull verdant hues once again opening to darkness and dust, her ears to the faint dripping of water from the ceiling, and her nose to the must-ridden stank that filled the place. It was doom and gloom; that was all that could describe it.
The door was open once more, and Kirimo was entering the room. This time, he was followed by countless associates, all who appeared ready for something she had already anticipated since the moment she had first awoken there. He was quick to cut to the chase; Kirimo seemed to feel no patience for dawdling.
"So, little girl, who do you work for? We know your stint for Konoha is just a sham; explain this to us!"
Sakura shifted her gaze up to him, eyeing him strangely, and as if he had gained another arm to his appendage count.
"I don't know what you're talking about," rasped she.
Kirimo looked fairly unimpressed with her response, and she figured it wasn't what he was waiting for. He shot an impatient glare to his comrades, they nodding sharply in return. Within a moment, they had surrounded her, two on either side, and yanked the chains to their optimal state of tautness.
Sakura felt stretched, but didn't let on that his methods were affecting her. She had had worse, after all, what with being an esteemed ANBU of Konoha's ranks. The ermine was respected for her hard work and her ability to put up with multiple forms of torture.
"I don't think you were quite listening when I asked my question, bitch," Kirimo insisted, taking a few steps toward her, umber eyes tainted with indescribable malevolence. "Or are you deaf, like your little friends will be forever more."
The mention of her ANBU squad caused her eyes to widen fractionally, Kirimo grinning at her little display of recognition. He knew that would be one that riled her up.
"Tell me the truth this time, konoichi." Kirimo placed a harsh grasp on her frail shoulder, forcing his short nails to be felt in her greying flesh. "Who is it that you work for? Who commands you?"
Sakura's eyes instantly narrowed back to their hostile nature, and she grit her teeth to prevent from speaking the phrase he obviously deemed useless. Instead of verbal responses then, she rolled her tongue in her mouth, forging a well of saliva, and when it was obvious he was to ask again, she spit the reserves at him.
Kirimo reeled, a hand immediately going to his face as he attempted to rid his skin of the foreign substance. One of his lackeys brought him a rag, which when he was through with it, he tossed it aside for no particular purpose. His nostrils flared and his spiteful gaze became that of pure, unadulterated rage. The bulky man stepped forward with forceful strides, gripping a fist around her neck, his palm pressing brusquely against her throat.
"Tell me who you take orders from! Tell me who it is that has sent you to spy on my men and their work, konoichi!"
Sakura once more grit her teeth together, the resentment in her eyes almost suffocating. Any lesser ninja would've fallen at the deadly aura she was emitting. But these were S-Class criminals, and she was fairly certain not a single trick in a Kage's books would taint these mongrels of the shinobi world. And so, with information secret in her intelligent mind, she uttered three words that would make any criminal mastermind act upon his fury.
"Go. To. Hell." But she wasn't finished there. An almost amused appeal drew to her hues, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Perhaps one day, I'll see you there, but from above on my cloud of glory. Wouldn't that be nice? I'd wave to you, but you wouldn't respond."
Her tone was mocking and cocky, despite the rawness of her throat. Kirimo roared with outrage, a now fisted hand coming to rest in her gut.
A loud exhalation followed the residual grunt past Sakura's lips, blood already beginning to gurgle to her teeth. She rolled the metallic taste in her mouth, finding it hard to breathe, and yet easy to still find intolerance for the man before her.
"Should I mangle your organs for you, konoichi? Or will you decide to give me the answers I desire!" Kirimo demanded, his voice rising in pitch with every sentence he spewed from his mouth. "Tell me who he is!"
Sakura chuckled darkly, scarlet droplets seeping out of the corners of her mouth, and tainting the fair colour on her chin. "I know not of what you speak, bastard. I am in allegiance with Konoha, and there is little you can do to change that."
Another outraged cry was followed by the tightening of the chains at Sakura's wrists. Kirimo was far beyond any form of civility now, his thoughts now on wringing the information from her form, even if it killed him. And a satisfied grin came about his face when Sakura winced, giving off her own cry, but of strangled pain.
"I will give you one more chance, and then your torture will begin," he announced, his voice taking on a strange calm toward the end. "Tell me now, or you will perish in the name of your beloved village."
The fiore, with determination still clear in her delicious green eyes, shot him a look of pure antagonism. She did not answer, nor did she intend to, which was her answer all in its own.
"Fine," Kirimo replied, turning on his heel to make way for a new mercenary, whom entered the room upon his leave. Hypnotic black and white hair melded with the steely glaze of his eyes, and as she focused intently upon the swirl in his hues, only then did she notice that nothing else surrounded her, no one else resided in the now empty black void. And at this point, all hell broke loose, and suddenly the ability to scream was a luxury she no longer could afford.
-xXx-
"We are but to serve you, and we complete your errands. With speed and prowess, we will down your foes before they can even blink their eyes."
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything affiliated. This plot line is loosely based upon the movie Salt, though the uniqueness is credit to me.