Violent Avarice: Chapter 1
Summary: Set in present-time in our world/reality, Sasuke Uchiha's past reflects the same tragedies with different causes but similar outcomes. He is an infamous mercenary pursued by Interpol. Sakura and the girls, along with key members of the gang from Konoha, are all members of Interpol. Sasuke and Sakura's ages are in their mid to late 20's.
Disclaimer: I do not claim any ownership or rights to the Naruto series or its characters.
Sasuke awoke to a dimly lit motel room. He wasn't covered with the blanket on the rickety bed, but he was still very hot and clammy. The humidity was almost unbearable. He looked to the LCD clock time on the cable box near the bed. It read 8:20 a.m.
'Damn. This early in the morning, and it's already so fucking hot.'
Hearing the old, overused mattress coils squeal, Sasuke stretched his legs far off the bed and situated himself on the side, sitting up. He yawned, stretched and rubbed the sleep from his face. His nicely honed muscles rippled with every stretch. As he stood up, he allowed his arms to reach over his head, his hands meeting in the middle for a grip to stretch even more. He then reached down and pulled his wife beater over his head with an unceremonious tug.
Tank top in hand, Sasuke yanked back a curtain facing the parking lot and peered out the dusty window. He was in a small town somewhere in the desert. It looked almost deserted, save for a few non-luxurious vehicles in the parking lot. The "Lucky 5-Star" motel sign was lit even in the daytime, as it still had neon lettering. But it was updated with a digital marquee advertising what they referred to as "amenities," which were color televisions, individual air conditioning, landline phones, pets allowed, in-room coffee and tea, and wi-fi. The cheap rates were posted on an old roadside sandwich board.
Sasuke was sure those signs looked atrocious now, but he didn't mind as he rolled into town too late last night to care. Maybe the unattractiveness and isolation attracted him at the last minute.
Sasuke shuffled into the tiny bathroom. Under the fluorescent lighting, Sasuke hopped into the shower. He enjoyed the cool spray, but he knew he needed to make a quick chore of it. After shaving, he collected anything he had unpacked during his short stay and repacked, ready to go. Right before Sasuke dressed, he slipped on a necklace he had taken off only to shower. He slipped on fitted dark denim jeans, a plain navy blue v-neck t-shirt, basic socks and his trusty black leather boots. They were a little worn around the edges, but they still looked good and got the job done. Just like Sasuke.
Sasuke picked up his two duffel bags and carried them to his car. It needed a new paint job, but he loved it. Sasuke drove a dark charcoal 1968 Mustang Fastback with black detailing, and he was damn proud of it. The paint was peeling on a few almost unnoticeable weathered areas, but it was what's under the hood that counts. What attracted Sasuke to this particular year and model was this car was built with a wider track for better road grip, easily customizable engines (his was a 390), 4-speed transmission, and a ride that solidified how badass he truly was. Back in the day, these cars were modified to outrun the cops. And that's exactly what Sasuke did.
After he loaded his bags into his car, he locked the doors and went inside the registration office to check out early. He had the room until noon, but he didn't care to stick around that long. He needed to be on the move, and as quickly as possible. Before he went back to his car, he moved the rock he used to keep the door open (since he had to return his room key) and went back inside to retrieve a few things. Underneath his t-shirt was a gun holster. He reached under the pillow and pulled out a Sig-Sauer 9mm pistol, which fit into the holster. If his mind failed him and demanded he close his eyes and rest, he needed an insurance policy. From underneath the bed he lifted an M40A1 heavy barrel sniper rifle, along with a few extra magazines hidden underneath the top and bottom the door he toted out an M-24 sniper rifle, a bolt-action six-shot repeating rifle. Those weren't part of his insurance policy; they were merely there for added fun. Yep, just a couple of his basic tools of the trade. With his gear in tow, Sasuke left and headed for the Southern border.
"Ms. Haruno. Ms. Haruno. Ms. Ha. . ."
Shizune, the senior assistant to the president of Interpol, nudged Sakura awake.
"Mmm. . .hm. . ." Sakura's eyes flew open, and her head shot up from her desk of scattered papers and scribbled notes.
Shizune held back a giggle.
"Huh? What? Does Tsunade need me?"
"Yes, she has requested a private meeting with you." Shizune's face then turned from stone into one of caring. "Sakura, did you fall asleep at your desk again?"
In a moment of embarrassing realization, Sakura commenced to wiping an embarrassing trail of saliva off the side of her face.
"Guilty. I thought I had a lead. But like most others, it came up dry. I just collapsed from exhaustion and disappointment, and never picked my head back up."
"And around what time was that?"
Sakura looked at the clock on the wall of her small office. It read 8:37 a.m.
"Oh. . .about 4 hours ago."
"Sakura! That's insane. You're no good to us dead or sleep-deprived. If you keep this up, Tsunade is going to order you to visit a shrink. And not a pleasant one."
Sakura groaned. "Alright, I'll be in her office in a few minutes. Let me fix myself up a bit."
Shizune nodded in understanding and walked out of Sakura's tiny office. Sakura stretched, letting her yellow button-up blouse rise to reveal the porcelain skin of her stomach. Sakura popped her neck to her satisfaction, trying to work out a few kinks. She stood from her desk slowly and groggily, and managed to walk down the hallway to the ladies' room. Sakura used the toilet quickly and slunk over to the sinks. She washed her hands, then made a good effort to splash extremely cold water on her face. She pulled a hair band from her pocket on her light gray skirt and tied her strawberry-hued hair back into a manageable ponytail.
Feeling a little bit more presentable, Sakura pulled herself together and made the arduous journey to one of the top floors and entered Shizune's desk outside Tsunade's office.
Shizune looked up from her laptop. "Go on in. She's been waiting for you."
Sakura nodded and gulped, walking over to the door. Sakura knew it was never good to keep Tsunade waiting. She lifted her hand to knock.
"Get in here, Sakura."
Though she could feel her heart pounding to an alarmingly irregular beat, Sakura found the courage to swing the door open and step inside. Tsunade was behind her desk with her hands folded on the surface. She had pictures scattered all over the desk, but she couldn't make out any of the images from her distance.
"Please have a seat. I wish to discuss the Uchiha case."
Sakura quickly found her seat. "Is there new information from California?"
"No, not from California. But there is new information. This time it's from Arizona. He struck in a suburban town called Maricopa, about 30 miles from Phoenix."
"So our guy has traveled a bit from Fresno. A new job?"
"Yes, he had a new hit."
Sakura's eyes darkened. "Had?" Sakura eyed the pictures suspiciously. So she and her team couldn't stop him in time to save another life. Not that he was a serial killer with innocent victims. Obviously, there is a reason why his targets have prices on their heads. They were typically criminals, whether or not they were found guilty by a jury of their peers. Some were murderers themselves. Others were almost as bad. But he had no right to kill, and he was killing for profit. Interpol had their sights on the Taka Organization, an international organization of mercenaries for hire. Anywhere the money was good, they would be assigned a top hitman with just as much skill for lurking and escaping as they were skilled to kill quickly, and carried out the assassinations as discreetly as the customer wanted to be. If the price was right, the hitmen would perform torture if the need or request arose. Those were reserved for special top-dollar clients who either needed information before disposal or just had a vendetta. It wasn't often to come across a case with torture, especially since it's hard to tell what went on before the murder if they covered their tracks well enough to throw off the crime scene unit. Sometimes a hitman would assassinate a group. They tend to be very versatile in the art of killing. Even then, the hitman never required assistance to finish the job. Sasuke Uchiha was found to be one of Team Taka's most prized hitmen. He was an excellent sniper.
Tsunade gathered up the pictures and handed them over to Sakura. Had she not been trained for these types of cases or had been new to Sasuke Uchiha's handiwork, she would have emptied her stomach contents on Tsunade's desk and possibly even lost consciousness. These gruesome photos were images of the latest crime scene in Arizona, apparently. A white male in his mid-50's was missing an eye. And the rest of his face around the eye socket. Sasuke Uchiha was an excellent sniper, so it wasn't surprising to see another murder with wounds obviously inflicted from a long-range ballistic weapon.
"Our CSI agents are on the scene now. They believe they have identified the spot from which Uchiha aimed. They have evidence to go through with you, and they'd rather not ship it here. No evidence should be sent overseas. Since Uchiha seems to be stationed in the United States for now, I must insist you relocate there to continue your investigation. He may have found a way to get into the country, but I don't think he'll be able to leave if the U.S. government's Department of Homeland Security and the FAA will allow him to scrape by them again."
"How did he get into the country in the first place?"
"It seems his organization, Taka, bought him a seat on a charter jet. With a fake passport and his latest fabricated identification as a German citizen," Tsunade handed Sakura a tablet with information on the screen of Sasuke's most recent fake identification. It said he was a German-born half-Japanese German citizen by the name of Sebastian Meisser. Male, age 25. Date of birth: July 23, 1986. Height: 6 feet 2 inches (187.96 cm). Weight: 158 lbs. (71.7 kg). Black hair, brown eyes.
Sakura scoffed and handed the tablet back to Tsunade.
"I've printed off that false identification for your files, of course. And these photos are to go straight into filing, as well. You will receive copies to take in your own case files you will be taking with you."
"Yes, of course. When do I leave?"
"How quickly can you pack?"
The next morning, Sakura was on a plane to Arizona.
Please review! A little introduction first, with the plot thickening, lots of danger and a little hint of romance pushed along in every chapter.