Hey there everyone! I'm so excited for chapter two since this will include actual characters from Naruto. So happy! I need to inform people that I plan to update each chapter within three weeks or a month. I'm writing chapter four at the moment so that I won't feel too pressured with having no back ups :/ I have another month to finish chapter four which I have only just begun and start up chapter five… Hopefully I can get to work like a good girl and the words will flow!
Probably not.
In other news… Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.
RECAP:
From this proximity Charlotte could count the three piercings through his nose and seven in each ear. The headband he wore had four vertical scores with a long scratch through the middle. It resembled an oversized tally mark. His eyes blazed a malicious hue with his intent observation. She noticed that he had three rings around each pupil.
Within the blink of an eye, her phone was crushed in his palm. Splitters of plastic, bits of computer chips, and battery fluid ejected from his fist. His gaze never strayed from her face and his hand never left her throat.
The hand grew tighter as he leaned in closer and opened his mouth to speak.
/ / / O
"Anata wa dare desu ka?"*
His voice was rich and profound like the darkest of velvet. It wasn't angry but suggested a pinch of annoyance and weighed heavily with intimidation. As it should have. He spoke as though his words could cut through glass, and the possibility wasn't denied.
Charlotte blinked. She wondered if the panic of the situation was marring her hearing. Or better put, it may have been due to her oncoming concussion. Either reason, she realized the sentence the threatening man stated never clicked in her brain. The distorted question entered her mind and exited within an instant. There was hardly a moment to even attempt to piece any of the word fragments together. Was the man even speaking English?
His ringed pupils still focused on her form with an intensity Charlotte thought might break her much like his fist had done to her phone only seconds ago. The memory of cell shards shooting from his closed palm was still fresh in her mind. The busted bits lay on the cream carpet as a pile of rubble near her wobbling feet.
In fact, he didn't even seem phased by the portions of plastic that poked into the tender skin of his palm. By his fixated expression, it didn't even appear that the pain had even registered into his mind.
And she was shocked to see in the pumpkin stained room, that his finger nails had been coated with a pomegranate nail polish. How quaint.
"Dakara, koreha baishunpudesu ka?"** Behind the pierced maniac, another baritone babbled. The voice, unlike the one in front of her, sounded agitating. Much like a scratchy sweater on a humid summer's day. From her position, Charlotte caught an white-haired fellow leaning against her wall straddling where the kitchen tile and living room carpet met.
She took in the sight of a second intruder like a pill. He stood high and proud with a sneer she detested with a passion she had never known before. His head cocked upwards as he seemed to scoff at her form and his arms haughtily crossed over his partly bare chest. Like the man before her, he wore the same cloak—which she was beginning to make out red clouds adorn into the fabric. Unlike the man in front of her, though, he had the front of the clothing open to reveal a segment of his torso.
Also exposed from his undone garment was a metal plate that resembled the former man's, only worn around his neck. A beaded piece of jewelry dangled from his throat with a peculiar pendant as well.
The worst part about the man excluding his disturbing grin and exposed chest was the triple bladed scythe he gripped. It stood by his side, heavy and horrendous. The sharp points curled into a sadistic smile with a twinkle in the low lighting. Oddly enough, it seemed comfortable at his side. Almost natural.
Unseen to her, blocked by the ginger, was the owner of the padded footsteps stepping out of her bedroom. The floor popped at the unwelcome weight so Charlotte imagined a spectacularly large person positioned in her bedroom doorway. She tensed further. Inside, she questioned just how many guests she had.
The hand over her throat constricted crossly. The eyebrows of the man angled dangerously low as he repeated a little more ardently, "Anata wa dare desu ka?"*
Her eyes traveled up to meet his strange pupils. With a difficult gulp of air that seemed to claw at the walls of her throat, she finally choked, "I don't understand." Then she added with a crumb of vexation, "I speak English. Don't you speak English at all?"
Her voice, Charlotte found, quivered against all attempts. She didn't want to appear timid and lose whatever respect they may have had for her. Rather, she wished to act like her usual, sarcastic self and keep hold of any small amount of dignity she had left. Still, it took an immense effort to keep her eyes somber and sharpened when in reality she wanted to carry her view anywhere but to his eyes.
But as she stared into his eyes and he glared into hers, Charlotte saw that he was calculating. What he was calculating, she wished she knew. Maybe he was gauging the amount of fear in her tone or the extent of her fortitude. Oh, how she hoped she had a great measure of moxie in her. She could scarcely withstand the pressure he put her under.
Eventually, his head dipped a tad lower in an almost inquisitive motion. "What is your name?" Even in a different language his voice was still soul gripping. It made something deep inside of her want to shrivel up and vanish—another feeling she had never experienced.
Her breath hitched and she prayed he didn't notice.
Charlotte made an effort to wet her lips. Her mouth was dry and sticky and her tongue felt like rubber against her chapped lips. Even when she swallowed, nothing went down.
Part of her wanted to scream. Scream and ask him how he had the right to ask for her name when he was the one intruding. Or why? Why did someone like him need to know her name? Wasn't breaking and entering one of those hobbies where you try not to make contact with the owner of the household, much less ask—demand—for their name?
The other part of her was completely traumatized and couldn't remember how to speak much less her name. This part of her was also the one that wanted to bend over backwards to his command.
It was this part of her that made the words, "Charlotte Chapman," cut through her taut throat.
He didn't say anything in response nor did his companions. While they digested her name, Charlotte mentally slapped herself for spitting information. She didn't even give a false name, though, if they wanted to be thorough, they could have just taken her driver's license. Or they could have gone through her things beforehand.
Scratch that. They had been searching through her belongings.
She remembered the faucet that had been turned on. They had been in her kitchen. And then there was her russet sofa that had been crooked and the knocked over lamp. They had been in her living room. They had exited her bedroom.
She didn't even want to know what they had seen in there.
The man examined her closely with unblinking eyes that unnerved her. She began to feel progressively self-conscious being under his scope. Inside she was begging to move. Blink, twitch, breathe, any physical movement would have sufficed at that moment, but even the slightest motion felt criminal—ironically so.
It appeared the man still had something on his mind. Charlotte could tell by the second questioning tilt of his head. But instead of letting him commence in his question, she took a deep, shaky breath that vibrated through the still air.
"Listen," Charlotte peeped up with a skipping heart beat. She felt sick like her stomach had tied itself into a knot in all the excitement. "You want to ask me a question," she claimed knowing full well he did. She noticed his gaze was stronger when she spoke as he focused in on nothing but her face and voice. "Isn't there any other way to get me to talk than to restrict my airways?"
He pondered. The expression wasn't shown on his facial feature but in his eyes and silence. Charlotte imagined what could be going through his thoughts. Then stopped. She realized inside the head of the enemy was a dangerous place to station yourself. The decision was entirely his to choose. And he may choose whichever path he wanted because he had the upper hand. He knew it. She clearly knew it. She couldn't change those ill-fated odds.
However, she felt the need to point out: "There is really no reason to keep me in such a barbaric hold. We are civilized." Her eyes scanned his face for signs of folding. His eyes scanned her face for desperation. There was indeed some present.
Well, she thought to herself resentfully, some people are civilized. In all honestly, Charlotte couldn't include breaking into someone's apartment and slamming them into a wall civilized. In fact, that was wholly barbaric.
But she kept that to herself.
The hand on her throat went slack. Though she had been the supplicant suggesting a change, there wasn't a rational thought that he would take her statement sincerely.
Charlotte took his relaxed, and much further positioned, stance to press an unstable palm to her throat. A bruising effect was already taking place on her sensitive skin. She could feel its throbbing ache dispersing from one side of her neck to the other.
How could she explain that kind of injury to someone?
She backed off the wall as she tried to regain a steady breath intake. Her heart was still failing to beat at a typical tempo; it debated between skipping and hammering against her ribcage.
Her arm reached out to seek balance from the wall. Bloodless fingers sank into a hole the size of her head in the drywall. Charlotte had to do a double take. The man had literally crashed her head into the wall. Enough to leave a fairly fine sized dimple in the plasterboard.
For the second time in that adrenaline-pumped event, her mind skipped over what she could possibly tell the landlord.
Turning her stiff neck back to her company, Charlotte began to make out other shapes in the shadows.
The first, she stumbled upon her bedroom doorway where she had supposed a large person had settled. A large person indeed. In truth, this man shrunk timber. Actually, it would fit better if he were made of two solid trees grown and entangled together by the amount of mass on his frame. All Charlotte could imagine was the quantity of muscle he obtained just by catching a view of his bulky neck.
That wasn't all that startled her. There were also the bizarre facial features the man bared. Unique, peculiarly placed, markings bore into his cheeks. His hair stood up on end in a gravity-defying way. Then there were his eyes. They weren't necessarily large, definitely not large enough for his size, but they were intense. And beady and orbed like a marble.
There was also a cynical smile that she could see poking out from the top of the cloak collar. A uniform set of choppers winked at her. It was saturated with merriment that Charlotte felt was aimed at her. Much like an inside joke. Only he was the lone soul that knew the punch line.
Another metal slab was attached to this man as well, on his hat-like, head garb. Charlotte was beginning to see a fashion trend between her foes.
And if she didn't know any better, she would think his skin was a shade of light cerulean.
In the streetlight spotlight she could distinguish what appeared to be some kind of object wrapped tightly in white bandages. He lugged it over his shoulder as if it were as effortless as lifting a bat. Instead, it was just as tall as him. And probably just as weighted as it looked.
Charlotte hadn't even been aware of another person's presence. The sight of the fourth someone shocked her. Not just because she hadn't known they were there the entire time, but because after three men, it was a woman.
She wore the same, apparently stylish, clouded apparel swaddling her body. Charlotte found her face to be the most fascinating despite the detached appearance she held. The edge of her lips tipped downward almost meagerly. A minuscule ray of light reflected off of what seemed to be a metal bead just beneath her insufficient frown. A piercing perhaps.
Then there was her hair. It was short—cropped off near her shoulders. It was colored this ultramarine blue, powdery like its natural element. On the right side of her head was a flower. A simple, white flower, made of folded paper, was clipped into her bun.
Charlotte could see that her eyes, cool and collected, were feathered with blessedly thick eyelashes. Anther curious fact about the woman's eyes was that they were not focused on her, but on the pierced and overbearing man instead. Odd seeing how Charlotte was the individual of the hour according to the other three pairs centering in on her.
All in all, she saw this specific intruder to be the most enchanting.
"I can't believe you can just let the whore go." Charlotte visibly jumped at the complaint from the scythe-wielding man. His face was twisted into a grimace of utter displeasure. The fingers around his weapon twitched anxiously. "If you need me to, I can take care of her."
Charlotte's breath leaped to an entirely different level—it challenged the troubled breath of one who had just swam the English Channel. She saw the silver-haired man's lips coil into a genuine grin and his digits wrap tighter around his blades' handle.
To her astonishment and delight, the pierced man, as she was getting used to referring him as, spoke up. "No," his voice hadn't sounded irate, but it was as still firm as steel. "Because of the predicament we have been placed in, we can not kill her."
Some small piece of Charlotte calmed at this fact. People have been brave by saying that if they were ever put in a situation they would "rather be killed than to be kidnapped or give up secrets". But, those were just words. Words you put in your mouth, but if you were put to the test, wouldn't have acted upon.
In all essence, Charlotte wished she could act on such words. 'Be a brave soul!' the insensible part of her mind seemed to scream at her, 'Don't go without a fight!'The truth of the matter was that her flesh would very much love to stay alive. And the news that they would keep her alive, even if it was just for the moment, was as enormous enough of a relief that she released a sigh.
"The only reason I came out here to watch," the tall man in her bedroom doorway began with a jestful tone, "was because I thought something interesting would happen."
It was shocking to here the big man's voice. Or at least it was shocking to hear that it wasn't as deep and startling as she imagined. Instead, he smiled as he spoke clearly and pronounced. And his beaming sharp teeth still held that cruel sense of humor that made Charlotte feel uncomfortable. The words he spoke of did little to make her feel better.
The pierced man didn't seem remorseful towards the others' lack of interest. He shut his ringed eyes for a moment out of exasperation, perhaps? He apparently didn't have a keen liking towards his companions. When he reopened his eyes, he faintly repositioned his body towards her living room. His eyes were still locked on hers. "We'll talk. Civilized." He spoke less as though he were making a mere claim and more as if he was mocking her past words.
Charlotte watched as he wandered through the room and perched himself on her couch. She once loved that couch. Once upon a time, when Charlotte had been furniture searching, she found the couch for a good price in a newspaper ad. She fell in love with its cocoa color and lesser zeros. The cushions weren't half bad either—not too soft and not too firm. Perfect for her keister.
But as he sat down, she imagined her personal value for the seat decreasing. It wasn't the same anymore. Because now his keister was relaxed in her perfect cushions.
Charlotte swallowed with her dry throat. "I'll turn on the lights. If you don't mind." She wanted to turn the lights for her own sake. If she had to stand any longer with these creeps in the dark, she was going to loose it. The latter part of her request was out of courtesy. However, in all honesty, if he did mind, she wouldn't care. She would turn on the cursed lights anyway. She deserved that much.
And so without another word, she shuffled into her kitchen; her socks made a shff shff against the tile. When she reached the switch on the far wall, her finger lingered as her eyes drifted to the door just inches away.
Charlotte imagined herself with just a speck more courage. She would take a sharp turn for the door and sprint her little heinie out of there. She wondered if they would catch her. Could she put up a fight? If she screamed, would any of her neighbors come to her rescue? They say to yell 'Fire!' because people are more likely to respond. What would they do with her if she did try to run?
There were endless outcomes to be honest. So many she would never discover. Because without a doubt, what the pierced man said next was more chilling than either end of the globe.
"You can't escape," his voice crawled across the room and to her ears. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck. "If you attempt, we will be forced to use harsher tactics."
It wasn't just the spooky reality that he could tell what she was thinking, even with his back turned, but also the truth behind what he stated so plainly.
He wasn't joking. And 'hasher tactics' was a nicer way of putting it.
Her finger didn't wait waste any more time on the switch as she flicked it up and the fluorescent lights flickered on. In her living room, she had to adjust to the sudden flash of light from her ceiling fan. The tall man—who she was amazed to see was truly as blue as she had thought—had flipped the light switch closest to his body.
As Charlotte evaluated the situation, she realized she had no choice but to grab a chair from her table and position herself in front of the television. She wasn't going to cuddle up next to Mr. Sinister on her sofa. And she wasn't going to pace in front of everyone like a college professor giving a lecture.
As she made her way across the room, wooden chair in hand, in her peripherals she saw the tall, blue man step aside from her doorway. As he shuffled more to the side of the other weapon-wielding man in the room, the only thing that would have made the situation worse happened.
Out of her bedroom sauntered out more intruders.
Had someone forgotten to inform her of the parade marching through her apartment? Or maybe someone forgot to mention the circus was in town. With this band of freaks, they looked like actors in the ring climbing out of a miniature clown car. There was no end to their charade or their numbers.
Five more people strolled right out into her living room. Five more people had been listening the entire time. Five more people were present to attack her. And five more people were there to observe her as she stood there gaping.
Charlotte shuddered. Noticeably.
She had an audience. A grand audience. Or better put, it wasn't an audience, it was a jury. She was standing in front of her jury of which were waiting to name her guilty. She didn't know how she could be put in such a situation. Or how she could feel like the guilty one at all times. But they managed to display miracles before her.
With a shake of her head and denial pitting in the bottom of her stomach, she asked, "Who are you?"
"We," began the pierced man his eyes still as captivating as before, "will not answer any questions until you give our location."
If there had ever been a moment when Charlotte had been ever more confused, at that time, she was having a rather difficult time remembering it.
Her eyebrows knitted together in a baffled, and probably comical, expression. She literally plopped down into her hard, table chair and bent forward. Her pale and chilly fingers tangled into her mass of hair as she allowed blood flow to the brain.
Everyone else in the room settled into her living room as if they owned the place. Her extra three chairs in the kitchen were scooted and sat in. One of the chair takers, Charlotte had noticed, was the tall man with a cerulean skin tone. He propped his weapon against her wall and crossed his arms in an amused sort of way.
On the couch, no one else bothered to sit next to tall, pierced, and scary. Instead, one had seating himself on the armrest on the opposite end of the couch. She debated roaring at him to get off less he dents it. But her fear of making an empty threat made her decide otherwise.
The man, the one she felt a strong sense of yearning to yell at, had a younger complexion than most in the room. He was a blond. His hair wasn't the washed out, dishwater blond, but a clouded honey hue. Though, some strands of his hair hung over the left portion of his face. Annoyingly so. From where she sat, she could see that his eyes—eye was just as blue as a Jay's feather.
His posture was leaned, or really, slouched against the back of her couch. Even his arms folded in a relaxed fashion across his chest. He also had a very repelling smile. His lips spread long and kinked at the ends in a very egotistical manner. She found it even more distressing and irksome than the white-haired fellow's.
Even more disturbing than the young man's expression was the style another visitor of hers sat. He took seating in front of her couch on the carpet. He sat Indian style with his elbows positioned on his knees in a very juvenile display. Even more unique than his immature demonstration was the cheery orange mask he wore. It spiraled as if someone had given him a permanent swirly in his adolescent days.
He was covered in all black with the exception of a malachite dyed scarf around his neck. And most unlike his comrades, he didn't seem to wear a cloak.
Charlotte straightened her back and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "You have some sense of humor. Claiming you have no idea where you are and playing dumb I mean." She rubbed her hands over her cheeks in frustration as her stare connected with his target board eyes.
He didn't avert her gaze and met her head on. "If you think I am being humorous you are immensely mistaken."
His voice was very tight. Almost as if she had said something to offend him. Or put her on his bad side. Charlotte took his deadly glare as something to consider when she tried to word her next sentence nicely.
"You can't expect me to believe that all of you broke into my apartment without knowing where you were," her lips were tight in controlled annoyance. "Not knowing my name is one thing, but not knowing your location is pretty preposterous. I'm not answering a stupid question."
"We didn't break into your apartment," someone sounded from her kitchen. The unknown speaker was one of the others who took seat in her kitchen chairs. With his blasé tone and scrutiny it was hard for Charlotte to comprehend what he was thinking. That, and this guy had the most gorgeous red hair she had ever seen. His locks were of such a pure scarlet, it should have made red wine envious.
She found him to be a strangely beautiful man. Strangely because she had never once thought of a man as beautiful. It was out of character and up right wrong. So instead, she found him to be an attractive, somewhat feminine-looking fellow with a… Slenderer body under his cloak.
With this decided, she looked into his bister irises coated with healthy eyelashes. Deep within herself, she allowed herself to be a jealous. But only a little.
He matched the dubious look she shot him with a scowl. Not a full grimace, but a petty pull at the corners of his lips. "We were transported here."
A dry chuckle brushed through her throat at his declaration. "Yeah, in a taxi. Or more fitting, a white van with tinted windows." Her sarcastic joke rattled through her crowd without even a snicker in return. Actually, she reaped a few addled faces. The others were a bit hoarser towards her.
"It was a teleportation." Charlotte looked to her left. There she spotted a man, close in age to herself by appearance, propped against her wall near her bathroom door. He was watching her with penetrating eyes, which to her seemed a little bloodshot.
By the sound of his voice, he was a very restricted man. One who tethers everything of himself close by on a short leash. A solitaire.
His hair was sliced off just above his shoulders. The sooty shade of his mane reminded her of the somber tone of the night. The metal plate that reflected between the strands of his bangs held a carving of a snail-like design. Of course, it was not lacking the long strike through the center to ruin the original purpose of the drawing.
"Teleportation," Charlotte repeated with a bite in her tone.
"Kisame and I were traveling to Fire Country," he added. He was still focused completely on her movements watching for any fault in her emotions. "Then a surge of lightning crashed on top of us."
"Yeah!" The scythe wielding man bellowed. He gripped the back of her couch in a rigid fist that made Charlotte cringe. "Kakuzu was going on about some fucking bounty and the next thing we know we're being shocked like fucking crazy!" He rubbed his neck enraged. "It hurt like a bitch!"
"It could have only been teleportation," confirmed probably the scariest voice Charlotte had ever heard. In the back of the room, against the wall on the right, there stood a massively built man. He was just about as immense as the blue man only much, much more intimidating. He didn't show much skin. A mask covered most of his face except that of the bridge of his nose and around his eyes. What flesh was shown was dark. But it wasn't a glowing tan one gets from a few days a week at the tanning parlor, but from extreme exposure from the sun.
His voice, instead of coming out crisp and fresh, vibrated out from his torso making it the deepest bass ever to have beaten against Charlotte's eardrums. And just the way the riled wrinkles between his eyes never soothed made her think of just how pissed off he was at that moment.
"So, uh," Charlotte glanced around the room with a surprising straight face. "Which asylum did you escape from? Seriously, if you tell me the name, I can call them up." But then she'd have to use the payphone near the stairs. And that was past the whole room of insanity stained bodies in the room.
"Take this seriously, un!" Bellowed the blonde sitting a little straighter as his voice rose.
"I am taking this seriously!" She yelled back hardly making note of his speech impediment. "Teleportation, lightening shooting from the sky, speaking in different languages, hitting my head against the wall, the weird outfits," She counted a whole handful before throwing her hands up. "You guys are the ones who aren't being serious!"
"You think we're lying to you," The pierced man observed with flecks of irritation working its way into his tone.
Charlotte graced him with wide eyes of incredulity, "Duh. Who would believe you? You're all freaks!"
Just before charlotte was sure the look in the ginger's eyes were meant for her death, another voice spoke out.
"She does make a very obvious point."
All breath left her lungs as she stared at the atrocity that suddenly materialized. A plant-like structure surrounded the face and shoulders of a man. The 'man' was split down the middle black and white. The mop of hair on his head was a shade of green that was just as pure as that of grass. And his expression was solemn with a mix of considerate thoughtfulness.
And worst of all, only half of his body was protruding out from her wall.
It frightened Charlotte so much she zipped out of her chair putting an astonished hand to her mouth. Her stomached dropped so quickly, she thought she was going to have stroke.
"W-What… What is that? What's going on? How can he do that?" Her voice grew louder with each question as she gawked at them all.
"Jutsu!" Was the simple answer the juvenile man on the ground chirped with his cheerful voice. He seemed to bounce in joy to be able to help even just this once.
Charlotte gave him a stupefied face shaking her head. "What is that? Juice-oo, is that some sort of voodoo magic trick?"
The woman, who had taken her place behind the pierced man, was the one who had spoken out of the sea of stunned faces. "Are you saying you don't know what jutsu is?"
Partly astonished by the angelic voice that passed through the woman's pierced lips, Charlotte took a moment to respond. She finally stuttered out crossly, "D-Does it look like I know what it is?"
A moment passed. Everyone sat still as the silence overwhelmed the young woman standing in front of the criminals. Each person held something like astonishment in their eyes. Charlotte's face scrunched in impatience more and more as time continued. They maintained this condition for a number of minutes. Much to Charlotte's annoyance.
"Is it possible for jutsu not to exist in this place?" asked the man in her wall. Though his voice had been deep and raspy before, it was clearer this time. He looked to his comrades as they contemplated his question.
"Many people walk the streets below us," rubbed the voice of the sharp-toothed chap. "But none of them have chakra signatures. Neither does this girl. Even non-ninja citizens should have a faint aura."
Charlotte stood baffled by the giant's words. "Excuse me, chakra and ninja?" her voice reeked of her utter confusion. "You guys are speaking absolute nonsense."
Another pause in her jury. It seemed that with every sentence she spoke, they became increasingly troubled. And with each of their comments, Charlotte's mind grew further clouded. For her to assemble the puzzle in front of her was like trying to make her way in a maze in a dense fog. So many possibilities and chances, but no system in the confusion. The only way to make it is to feel your way through blindly.
"So you're saying," The pieced man paused for a moment choosing the right words to declare, "that you have no understanding of ninja in this place."
His eyes were so alert and resolute that Charlotte found herself shifting her eyes to the window. The rain was growing fainter as droplets slowly slithered down the glass. However, though she couldn't see the clouds with the obstruction of the neighboring apartment building, she could see dim flashes of lightning coming from what was the assumed West. There were more storms to come. She frowned a little at the thought of thunder waking her from her night's sleep. It was already just shy of one in the morning; she would need as much sleep as she could muster since she had work in the morning.
But she still had the obstacle of the ten trespassers stealing her precious dreaming hours.
"Ninja are something I would call," she drifted off struggling through her vocabulary. The late hour was beginning to affect her brain functioning. "Folklore. Ninja were in effect long ago. There are no such things today. And I've never heard of ninja being able to have…" she stole a glance at the creature through her wall, "… Such abilities as you possess." Her eyes landed on the pierced man again. "And in this day and age, 'ninja' is used more as a symbol of… Something awesome."
She felt incredibly lame for the last tidbit of information. 'Something awesome'? Mentally smacking herself in the forehead, she realized that the overwhelming shock of the moment was growing thin. Her adrenaline wasn't pumping as frequently as it should and the weight of her day was pushing against her eyelids. The only thing keeping her from falling asleep in front of her audience was her determination and pure aggravation.
"Something… Awesome…" He repeated clearly offended. "Our title here is used lightly."
"Obviously," she agreed fully. "If only people knew that ninja were actually feebleminded jerks who broke into apartments only to intimidate young women," her voice dripped in her 'weeping damsel in distress' tone. "They would use it to its full power."
The air seemed to grow edgy with her rude remark. If she heard correctly, she may have even received a growled cursing from one of her new buddies. She took in their cross expression greedily knowing they were getting just as upset as she was. It felt good now that they were suffering together rather than just herself all by her lonesome.
"None of this explains how we got here," referred the attractive redhead in the back. The conversation was turning for the worst. It was best to switch back to the main objective. "Could it all just be a coincidence?"
Charlotte leaned over and braced her elbows on the back of her chair. Her eyes scanned over the lot taking in their consideration. Really, she didn't know how these people came into her home. Coincidence seemed correct, but farfetched. She could only imagine if they had landed in her neighbors' apartment. Or even the elderly lady's down the hall. They would probably give the poor woman a heart attack and then wreak havoc as they wished while she lay sprawled on the floor.
No. With her, they were kept under control—even as minute as it was. They hadn't harmed her all that much and the damage was minor so far. She was handling the matter with shock and sarcastic banter, but it was much more preferable than going into hysterics. Though, maybe not as appropriate seeing how they had a grudging manner about them.
The fact still lay with the barrier between them. Neither of them knew the reason they were there. And both she and the others were utterly mystified by their differences. Jutsu was something unbelievable to Charlotte while the club of crazies could hardly comprehend the thought of no chakra.
So the question rose: Why her?
Why was this girl so cleverly chosen for their destination? What was so special? What was her purpose in the great scheme of things? It seemed too impossible that something like this would come in such a grand fluke, but where was the evidence to prove against it?
"It is more believable to assume, at this moment, everything is a coincidence." The man with the dark hair to her right claimed with clearance. His eyes shut smoothly as he smirked without humor. "Or a complete accident."
"So what are we to do?" Asked the sweet voice of the man projecting out of her living room wall. But his voice, she found, turned dark and gruff again as he indicated, "It's not as if we can walk among these people. We'd immediately be spotted by authorities."
"We could easily take on those pussies," hooted the bumptious, white-haired male with open laughter. "Without chakra, they'll be no fucking problem."
The angelic voice of their lone female comrade rang out to disagree with the fellow. "They might be an easy defeat," her ultramarine eyebrows angled lower, "But we cannot have the distraction of constant battle when we must find a way back to our own world."
"Indeed," the pierced man lowered his head some with his eyes closed in thought. Charlotte thought his face to be gentler without the constant diversion of his dangerous eyes. "That is why, for the time being, we will stay here with Ms. Chapman."
That was enough to bring Charlotte back to the world of the living. Sleepiness forgotten she erected in her post and stared at the man panicked. "What? You guys can't stay here!" She was mildly happy to hear a few complaints from others as well.
His eyes opened once again. The ferocity of his stare upon her was enough to make her squirm and step back. "This place is different than our own world. We do not know how it functions. Without this knowledge, we find ourselves at a slight disadvantage. However, if we are to stay put in your home, we will be hidden and will not have to engage into battle. We will use this calm environment to find a solution to our predicament. Until it is solved, you will be put under careful watch." His eyes narrowed, as if it were possible, his glare intensified even more. "You will not be allowed to speak to anyone about us. Our location to be kept in utmost secrecy. Any treachery or attempts to escape will be dealt with severe punishment."
Charlotte gulped bitterly as she returned his suspicious gaze with an enraged glower. The hands at her side fisted. Her palms were used as a stress relief as she dug her nails in agonizingly. Her nose wrinkled ferociously.
He didn't amount her anger to any threat as he asked in a confident fashion, "Do I make myself clear?"
Her grimace magnified. She bit back, "Clear as crystal."
/
* "Who are you?"
** "So, this is the prostitute?" (Really, I wanted him to say whore… But Google translate apparently against that word for some strange reason…)
Woo! Chapter two is finished! This makes me so happy that I get to update today. No clue people. I hope you enjoyed it and that I didn't make too many mistakes! Charlotte has her knees deep in a big mess now! I'm excited for this story. Definitely going to be one of my favorites.
Reasoning behind sudden language change will be explained in later chapters. I'm pretty sure that I kept everyone in character. If you notice anyone beginning to get out of character INFORM ME IMMEDIATELY! I want to know! D:
Question: How do you think the Akatsuki will react to Charlotte going to work tomorrow?
You know… For these first few chapters, I really don't think I'm going to be able to give really good question. I do not blame you guys for not answering.
Responses to Reviews:
Anonymous: It's a shame you didn't have a name :( As for a Deidara fanfic? Let's just say that the idea is very much open. I typically love and write romance fanfics only this first part will not be romance. I figure that with everything being confusing and lost during this Part 1 there won't be much romance. However… :] Part 2 is open for romance. I have a couple people in mind…
Dina Sana: Thanks! I do hope to continue, and pick up some more followers along the way :) I hope you continue to read my store and enjoy it.
Blackcatgirl: First I want to thank you so much! I think that as I get farther into the plot line that my story gains its individuality. Sending the Akatsuki to a different world isn't very original. But I think that with a little tweaking every story can achieve its own uniqueness. And I'm glad you like the detail! You have no clue how much I fret over it. I'm happy to have it realized.
SultanaV: Sniff sniff… You understand me! You're review made me so happy! You listed the exact reasons I wanted to post this fanfic. Realistic and different. Many of the fanfics out there about the Akatsuki coming to our world is made up of a bunch of Mary-sues and they're mostly impractical. Which is the reason I decided that I was going to write a fanfic about it and it would… make sense… At least as much sense as a fanfic can! Ha ha! I'm really happy that you enjoyed my first chapter, I really hope that the second has met up to your standards
I plan to answer reviews as well as I can. And maybe later on I won't be able to answer all of them… But I'll try my hardest! I've just ALWAYS loved it when authors responded to reviews so I decided to do the same. It gets past that Author/Reader barrier and let's us all connect in our special way :3
Boy that sounded cheesy.
In any case. I trust you will all have a good rest of the week and weekend. Until we meet again. Reviews are encouraged and read continuously until they stop making me want to cry happy tears! See ya!