A Survivor's Guide to the Apocalypse
Chapter 4
Long time no see.
Kisame had learned from experience that it was best to use diplomacy when appealing to the elder Uchiha's better judgment. To suggest that Itachi's decision making capabilities might be compromised was tantamount to suicide, or at least a generous maiming. In fact, the smartest thing to do would be to keep his mouth shut.
"No offense Itachi, but what in the fuck are you doing?"
Well, he wasn't known for his outstanding intellect; he just killed shit.
The dark haired man turned his head to look at him for all the world as if this were a vacation they were having and not a calamity of catastrophic proportions. There were men with balls of steel, and there was Itachi. His were not of this world.
Maybe that's why he's so damn perky, Kisame thought absently. But just thinking about meteors and their relation to his partners nut sack gave him the willies.
"She may prove useful as a healer." Itachi closed his eyes, fingers laced together over his chest. Kisame had yet to determine whether this was some bizarre meditation ritual or the Uchiha's boredom. On the really bad day's he thought he might even be talking in his sleep.
"She's untrained," the blue skinned missing nin griped.
Itachi's face was like one of those porcelain dolls that never moved. All smooth and perfect, and eerie. "Her chakra control is admirable. She has mended two bones without instruction."
Kisame resisted the urge to growl in frustration. There was enough tension and drama roiling around in this place without him adding any incentives. His partner, though younger than him, always managed to make him feel foolish when he lost his temper so he'd spent many hours honing his anger for more practical things, like killing. And very rough sex.
"Hidan will eat her alive." He continued with less conviction. There was no winning this debate. The girl was there to stay.
His partner gazed up at the ceiling, "Has he taken up eating his sacrifices now?"
That was the second time today he'd stepped into that one. Kisame's head fell back against the door frame with a dull thud, "Not that I know of, but you know what I meant."
"Yes. It begs the question of why you are here now."
"What? The kid? She's asleep." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "I made sure he couldn't get in – He won't admit it, but Hidan is scared shitless of water."
Itachi's mouth twitched. Then he was on his feet, "Be that as it may, we should keep careful watch on her. Zetsu will not have had...easy prey, under present circumstances."
A sigh escaped and Kisame unfurled his arms, "Of course, Itachi-san." So much for having all your little pets in a row...
"We will have to ration our supplies soon as well."
"And now we have an extra mouth to feed." Kisame muttered.
"An extra mouth that has more skill practical to our present situation than any of us." Ithachi looked at him from across the room and his eyes were oddly harsh in the dim light, "See to it that she remains unharmed, Kisame. I'd rather not take chances when all our lives are at stake."
Kisame could feel his mind going blank in panic with that ominous declaration. The lines of certainty he once knew had become so blurred that there was no distinction between enemy and friend. It was going to get worse too – he felt it in his bones like the deep rooted ache he got in his left knee on a particularly cool, wet day.
"I'll get right on that..." He said and stepped out into the hall. "Kid's probably tampering with my barrier as we speak."
True to form she was there standing on the threshold of her doorway with her mouth twisted in a frown as she gazed at the prism of water between her and relative freedom. Her eyes glinted as she caught sight of him entering the hall and narrowed subsequently.
"What the hell is this Fish Face?" She demanded and jabbed a finger at his contraption. Her face pinched as the water touched and she recoiled her hand, shaking it off with an affronted scowl.
"You can walk through it." Kisame replied. "But I'd hold my breath if I were you."
"I'd get wet." Sakura complained, but she considered the barrier long and hard. False bravado was almost enough to hurl her through it despite him, but not quite. When she looked at him a second time it was with a shiver of apprehension, "You're not going to make me walk through this every time I have to get in and out of my room?"
"You know, that's not a bad idea," He said and looked utterly pleased with himself, "I think I will keep it there now that you mention it."
Her hands balled into fists at her sides and there was murder written all over her face, but she didn't budge. "Well can you at least tell me why?"
Hell no, came to mind. "Because it amuses me."
Her arms were quavering as she glared at him. He thought she might stomp her foot in rage, which would've been hilarious, so he was mildly disappointed when she didn't. A rare moment of maturity rescued her from that certain mortification.
"You're such a bastard!" Sakura howled and threw herself into the prism, flailing her arms in furious circles as she waded through towards him. When she emerged on the other side dripping and cold she pointed an ominous finger at his chest, "I want a set of dry towels in my room."
"Not my prob—ow!"
Kisame gripped his arm, gasping in surprise as the bicep seized up in a vicious cramp from where her knuckle had struck. He breathed in sharply, massaging the muscle with quick, desperate motions. The smug look that draped her face as she bounced on the balls of her feet made him snarl.
"Towels." She reiterated in a tone unfitting one without the upper hand.
"I have half a mind to feed you to Zetsu myself." He snapped, allowing a small sigh of relief as the ache ebbed away. "You'd like that, would you?"
"No!" Sakura choked on a sob and then she did stomp her feet, repeatedly, and an ear splitting wail nearly made him deaf. "You're so stupid! More people die of hypothermia from being wet than from severe cold temperatures! Are you trying to kill me?"
"The thought has occurred to me, yes." Kisame agreed languidly.
"Fine." The girl spread her arms with a jerk and let them fall to her sides uselessly. She waited like that with a red nose and leaky eyes, "What are you waiting for? It's not like I'm going anywhere."
He stared at her, waiting her out. It was pointless really, all the threats. He probably would be doing her a favor, and Kisame Hoshigaki didn't do favors. So killing her really was out of the question. How disappointing.
Her resolve was breaking the longer he stood there doing nothing and finally she grumbled something unintelligible and moved passed him. That was when he noticed the limp.
"How's the leg?"
Her shoulders bunched together and she kept walking, the hitch in her stride even more pronounced now that he was looking for it. "I botched it up." It was snappish and bitter.
Kisame frowned curiously as he turned to walk after her. The candelabra afforded little enough light to see though and he flicked on his flashlight to take a better look as he came up behind her. She heard him coming and stopped, staring off into the dark expanse of tunnel that spread before her.
"What's wrong with it?" He asked.
For a moment she didn't respond. Then she blinked and her eyes glistened a little too much, gazing down reluctantly at the injured leg as if the answer was there somewhere. "It's crooked." She muttered and slid her foot out for him to see.
Kisame was surprised that it was slightly kinked, as she said. A scowl deepened the shadows around his eyes. "That doesn't make sense. The set was perfect."
"I didn't say it was your fault." Sakura managed through gritted teeth and resumed hobbling down the passage.
The fish faced one blinked in bewilderment, but he chased after her still, unrelenting. "That doesn't explain to me how a perfectly straight set suddenly went crooked."
"I don't know!" She whirled around angrily, "Sometimes...sometimes you can warp bone with chakra if you're not careful. I screwed it up, that's all."
"Well can you fix it?"
A bitter laugh answered him as she set off again. "I'd probably make it worse if I tried. But I don't think you can anyway. I'd have to break it again."
"So what, you walk around with a limp for the rest of your life?"
"Yeah."
He frowned, but she didn't notice because she was ahead of him. Unsure of why it bothered him so much he resumed following, a shadow cast over his face. For a kid – hell, for a girl - she seemed to be taking it pretty well.
For a ninja she was taking it like a champ.
"You okay?" Kisame blurted out.
Sakura hesitated for just a step, "I'm fine." Then she quickened pace so that he couldn't see her face. They were headed for the Common room, where Deidara slept fitfully.
When they arrived the kid was pale as death and you couldn't tell if his chest moved. For a brief moment Kisame thought he was dead and by the look on the girl's face she did too. A pained sound choked out of her and she burst into an awkward run, collapsing beside the cot as she reached out to take his pulse. Her face softened immediately.
Not dead yet.
Kisame waited there for a few seconds before the smell of decay and death drove him away. Though his mood had been effectively put off, his hunger had not. He'd yet to find anything that put him off food on an empty stomach so he made for the kitchen. The girl might not feel like eating, but she was going to anyway. They had plenty of rice if nothing else and he knew how to make a rice ball. It wasn't crab, but it would do.
It was a good hour later before he returned to fetch the girl. She didn't seem to hear him as he entered so feverishly at work she was with brow tightly furrowed as beads of perspiration trickled along the creases of her forehead. Her hands hovered above Deidara's chest, straining with pale green glow of a medic. He watched for a bit, waiting for a spell when he could interrupt, until it was clear that none was forthcoming.
She'd work herself beyond exhaustion at the rate she was going. There was an edge of desperation in the way her shoulders bunched up around her neck as she worked. Her lower lip was sucked in between her teeth. When the jutsu was complete she sagged back, arms falling limp at her sides. Moister pooled in her eyes.
"He's going to die."
Kisame hesitated as he glanced between the girl and the young man who'd been an acquaintance for a while now. He didn't really know him and he wasn't in the habit of getting mushy over death – that shit happened in their line of work. If you didn't get used to it you weren't a ninja for very long. But this was something else and she was just a kid with a lot more concern for the boy on the cot than anyone in the entire base had ever had.
That was just a little backwards to him.
"We've all got it coming. Some sooner than others."
Sakura whirled on him, her face contorted in a vicious snarl. "My Shishou could save him!" She raged and twisted the torn hem of her skirt in her hands. "I should be able to save him, but I'm too worthless even for that."
Kisame pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. "Listen kid, you live and you learn, or you die. Yeah, you don't know shit right now, but you'll remember what that felt like and you won't let it happen again."
A sound suspiciously akin to a sniffle tickled his ear and he bit back a cringe. The girl didn't move or speak for a long while and for all practical purposes seemed to be ignoring him completely. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"I have to keep trying." She spoke barely above a whisper, eyes so intense it made him jump.
Kisame frowned as the kid sat up again, bending to the left as her index finger skimmed the text of her medical book. Then he had her by the back of her pink uniform and was hoisting her roughly to her feet, which earned him a satisfying squawk. "Eat first."
"I'm not hungry!" She flailed mightily as he half carried, half dragged her to the couch.
"I don't care. Eat." He plopped her down and shoved a plate of riceballs into her lap. When she made no move to take it, his eyes took on a menacing glint, "Now."
She glared at him, arms crossed defiantly over her diminutive chest, and contemplated giving him the finger. When his lip curled to reveal those very sharp teeth she fidgeted just a little. Her resolve promptly deflated and she snatched the plate from him, immediately standing up. "Fine, but I am NOT eating in here."
Kisame followed her back to the kitchen, reveling in his victory with a sanctimonious grin that she studiously avoided. The girl ate mechanically and fast. Then she was coughing and spraying rice everywhere.
"Fucking hell, Kid." The Fish man roared, dodging out of the line of fire. He overbalanced in the effort to avoid the spray and crashed to the floor in a heap of cursing. His head popped back up, hair thoroughly disheveled and eyes murderous.
Sakura jabbed her chopsticks at him and laughed.
"What's so damn funny?" He demanded, seating himself with the tattered remains of his dignity. He twisted around, looking up and down his cloak for the source of her amusement and found nothing. The girl was holding her sides now, gasping for air between each guffaw.
Kisame seethed. He was going to strangle the life out of her, right there, right now. As soon as he reared out of his seat the girl squeaked and sat up like she had read his thoughts.
"It's in your hair!"
One pale gray hand reached up gingerly to sift through his dark blue mop and stopped at the clump of rice that was lodged there on the right side of his head. He pulled it out with a look of mild disgust and threw it aside.
Sakura was watching him with a tightly held smile as she munched on her third rice ball when the fourth was suddenly and swiftly swiped from her plate. Her eyes grew large for one split second before said rice ball exploded in her face. She sputtered in rage, grains scattered across her face, up her nose, and down her shirt as she bolted to her feet. The partially eaten rice ball in her hand flew blindly across the room, missing him completely, and disintegrated against a cabinet.
Kisame snickered.
"Kami, you're worse than Naruto!" She cried, wiping rice from her face and flicking it from her fingers. "Don't you have something better to do?"
"I wish I did." He muttered.
"Go...hack at a dead tree or something!" Sakura waved dramatically at the wall. "Wait, there aren't any trees, are there?" Her face fell. "Damn it."
The Shark man grunted, "True that."
"So where's everybody else?" She suddenly asked, a tentative look on her face.
Kisame glanced back at her, his instinct that of suspicion until he realized how ludicrous that was under the circumstances. She was no spy to reveal their secrets to the enemy. Her village was likely another crater on the land among many others, including their own.
"A mountain collapsed on Pein and Konan. The rest still live to varying degrees." He shrugged. "Stitches has been mending himself for the past few days – he looked pretty shitty when we dug him out."
The girl studied the wood grain of the table intently. "What happens when Hidan runs out of things to...uh...sacrifice?"
A palpable silence filled the room. Then a light scuff of a sandals across the floor and a gush of air against the back of her neck as he swept past her with a casual, "Things around here get a lot more exciting."
Sakura felt fear clenching in her stomach, so much that it hurt. The door shut with a soft click behind the mist nin, eliciting a flinch from the girl seated at the bench. Her head shifted infinitesimally towards where he'd gone, listening for receding footsteps. It was a stupid gesture she thought, since he was supposed to be her protector so how far could he go? The next room?
The young leaf ninja made a face, forehead scrunched, and she stabbed her blunted thumb nail into the wood table top. Her teeth gritted as she carved the surface with a jagged line that followed the grain despite her best efforts not to. She stopped, letting her hand slide into her lap.
"This is stupid." She grumbled. "Not like it matters if he did kill me. Everybody is probably dead."
Her heart felt hollow as she stood, a raw ache in her leg that she feared would never leave. Resolve hardened her steps as she walked though, for she was nothing if not stubborn. Ninja's didn't just sprout out of the ground knowing the jutsus that books and instructors taught. At one time they were as blind as she, but they found a way.
She would just have to find it again. Deidara could be saved – would be – if it was the only worthwhile thing she did. It's not like she had something else to do in this dark and depressed place.
Kisame was flopped out on the couch when she arrived, and that wasn't an exaggeration. Face down, one arm dangling to the floor and the other tucked under his chin, long legs draped across the oppose arm rest. She was assailed by similar images of a blond haired boy with whisker marks on his cheeks and felt a sudden swelling of grief in her chest that threatened to break her resolve.
"Like a fricken cat." Sakura muttered and went to Deidara's cot. She didn't notice the eye that parted to squint at her retreating back.
The couch smelled like a combination of mildew and something else that Kisame hadn't quite put a finger to. It was sour and cloying whatever it was – a wholly unpleasant scent to inhale repeatedly while trying to sleep. It may have had something to do with the man dying by the fireplace.
Dust curled around his breath as he exhaled in a groan. He had caught a few winks, but not more than an hour and his back had something to say about his chosen position. It gave a muted pop of protest as he shifted onto his side, watching the girl who still worked with a feverish intensity that would've made most men collapse in exhaustion. There was a certainty about her that hadn't been there before.
"He dead yet?" The shark faced one so loved to goad her.
"No." Not even a twitch, her tone clipped and focused.
Curiosity piqued, Kisame rose from the couch with a fluidity that did the girl's earlier observation justice and approached silently from behind. There wasn't much light in the room to cast shadows, but he did an admirable job of looming over her, which she ignored. Given the war she had waged on the young man's infection the shark faced one was not terribly shocked.
The color in the boy's face though – that made him double take. "He looks better."
Her mouth framed a grimace that might have been an attempt at a smile had she not been so distracted. Whatever she was doing, it was finally working. Even the boy's breathing was stronger.
Shrugging, Kisame returned to the couch, frowned at it, and sat down with a sigh. Well this was just aggravatingly tedious. What was he supposed to do for the next who knows how many hours while the kid worked herself to death? On the bright side if she did die he wouldn't have to baby sit anymore.
His impending boredom was saved by the arrival of everyone's favorite seamstress looking especially peeved. A mask covered the lower half of his face once more, whether to hide his gruesome visage or filter out the dust mites Kisame didn't know. Kakuzu looked like some camel herder from the land of sand - he was practically wearing a turban - though he'd never tell him that.
"You ever think about making yourself into a quilt?" Kisame queried, his face neutrally enamored by a picture of some girl doing impossible things with her toes while doing a handstand in Kunoichi Monthly. Seriously, what the fuck?
The man's arm stitches twitched, eyes frozen on the pink haired thing that had invaded their shoddy Common room. Kisame would never tell, but that habit of his gave him the fucking willies. It's like his stitches were an entity unto themselves, living separately from the man himself. That's probably why the bastard did it.
Kakuzu's head jerked and he whirled his gaze to the other man's, "Fuck off."
"I was. Fucking off that is."
"Really? I couldn't tell." Stitches glanced at the girl and back at his reluctant companion with a thinly raised brow.
Kisame maintained ignorance, shaking his head. "She's doing something right."
A grunt answered him and Kakuzu settled himself at the other end of the couch, staring off at the wall with a morbid scowl. Kisame could guess why. The man's deepest obsession was currency, but who had any use for that now? He was probably gnawing his stitches behind that mask like a dog licked a wound.
"What are you gonna do now?"
"Somebody has to keep track of the market."
"What market?" Kisame stared at him. The man was insatiable when it came to money. Maybe he would find a way – if anyone could, it would be him.
"There will always be currency of some kind." He said. "Sooner or later civilization will find need of it again, and I'll be prepared."
"Maybe you should take up banking."
"Maybe."
"That was a joke."
"Well, we may none of us survive the coming months anyway." Kakuzu tapped his fingers idly across the arm rest, wholly unperturbed by the notion by all appearances
"There is that."
The stitched man's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Food is the real currency now." He murmured and cast his equally inhuman gaze on the man with shark pupils. "Have we rationed anything yet?"
"No, but Itachi mentioned something about doing that soon." Kisame regarded him warily. There was a peculiar glint there that left a tickling of suspicion in his gut. The guy couldn't be trusted not to hoard more to himself. He was frightfully good with money - he could probably apply the same principles with foodstuffs if he applied himself.
Kakuzu made a noncommittal sound, stood up, and left the room without a word. Shark eyes followed his route with growing unease. He certainly wasn't going back to his room after having spent the better part of four days cooped up in it, not after that ominous declaration. No, he was going to go check out how much of their rations he could sequester without anyone else noticing.
"That miserable bastard."
"What?" Sakura had finally come to reality, or at least noticed that something was amiss.
"Nothing." The other said, sitting up straight with an eye still on the door that his fellow akatsuki member had departed through.
The girl sniffed, twisted around awkwardly to look at him. "Did I just miss something important? Because I kind of feel like I missed something important."
Kisame answered with a distracted "No", even as he was on his feet and heading for said door, barely cognizant of the suspicious green eyes that followed his every twitch. The girl turned back to her patient with haste, verifying that all his vitals were stable and that death was, for the moment, at bay. Then she jumped up and ran after the Hidden Mist missing nin who had just so quietly disappeared from the room, as if she hadn't noticed.
It was hard being stealthy on a bad leg Sakura was coming to realize. Not near as hard as it was painful though. That she was growing accustomed to that sharp lance of raw agony whenever she planted was only vaguely registered in her mind as she focused all her energy on remaining unnoticed.
Something fiercely curious must have bitten her erstwhile protector to have him this far off his game because she was bumbling about like a blind person in a china shop and he still hadn't noticed. She had only a hazy recollection of someone else having come into the room earlier and then departed. The two of them might have spoken. It alarmed her that she remembered so little of it, but then saving the boy had required all of her attention, and more. There was no relinquishing that kind of concentration – it was all she could do to keep hold of the jutsu.
So what if she hadn't noticed who had come into the room. If it had been someone like Hidan she had no doubt he would've disrupted her ministrations, probably to the detriment of her patient. Deidara might have died on the spot, what with her medical jutsu entwined all through his system like a spider's web. So it had to have been someone else. Itachi maybe? But no, that didn't make sense. Kisame wouldn't be suspicious of his partner – they actually liked each other, or at least maintained mutual respect.
Voices up ahead drew her up short. Sakura placed a hand against the wall, creeping forward with carefully placed steps and bracing herself each time her bad leg planted. The conversation drew closer and words started to materialize.
"We won't survive a year on this." Someone said – a voice she didn't recognize. "One person maybe."
"We'll be lucky if Hidan isn't sacrificing us on his godforsaken alter before a month is gone." The other voice responded gratingly. This one she knew well. "Then he can feed our bodies to Zetsu."
Not even a snicker from his companion. The silence was heavy and unrelenting, until the other broke it. "We would sustain Zetsu for barely a month, if that. Hidan is a thorn I shall never be rid of. Doubtless he'll find some way of appeasing his god long enough to garner some souls, but not ours. He won't challenge Itachi."
A grunt. "Figures."
"He is your better."
"No shit." Kisame bit out. "Doesn't mean I like hearin' about it." A derisive sound and shuffling of feet, then, "You're too goddamn serious. Don't get happy with the supplies."
"I'm not happy about anything."
Kisame grumbled something, trekking back down into the passage that Sakura was currently hiding, the tail end of his rant reaching her ears, "-no fucking sense of humor."
"Hi."
If he had skin to shed it would've been floating to the ground where he had left it milliseconds before, whirling mid air and eyes even more rounded than usual. The bellow of shock was enough to make her jump in surprise. They landed at the same time, one glaring and the other fighting back a fit of laughter.
"Goddamn kids!" Kisame snarled venomously, turning away from her as if to leave.
"Shall I dispose of her?" Came a voice from the room at the end of the hall behind them.
Sakura appraised the third party with narrow eyes. His identity eluded her for the moment, but he was creepy enough in appearance to give her plenty of pause. She almost snorted – who was she kidding? Everybody in this place could turn her into a drooling pile of goo if they wanted.
"No!" The shark faced one retorted unnecessarily loud and grabbed her roughly by the arm, jerking her down the hall after him, "We were just leaving."
"Ow!" Sakura tripped after him, twisting in his grasp to no avail as each plant of her bad leg sent numbing sensations up the bone. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she started to hop in a frenzied attempt to avoid the pain.
"What the hell—" Kisame pivoted around, glaring at the girl in accusation. The leg held gingerly above the ground keyed him in a moment later. His eyes narrowed, "Well why didn't you say something?"
"I said 'Ow'!" She seethed, finally wrenching free of his hand with an indignant huff. "Kami you're all so fricken high strung around here. How you guys haven't murdered each other yet is beyond me."
"You're not the only one." He said and it was almost a sigh, "You gonna be able to walk?"
"Yeah." Sakura answered and hop stepped past him. "I just need to give it a rest for a bit."
They resumed a more sedate pace back to the common room whereupon arriving Sakura was assailed by a sudden sense of panic. Someone else was in the room. Someone dangerous, hovering ominously over the sleeping form of the blond haired boy she'd poured all of her heart into saving.
"Hey!" The pink haired kunoichi shouted, lunging forward with murder in her eyes. She gave no thought to who she was attacking or what he might do to her when she did. A hand was fortunate enough to snag the collar of her uniform and yank her back into a solid chest.
The silver haired Jashinist threw a glance over his shoulder. His eyes glinted harshly in the dim light, "What do you know, the little bitch is good for something after all."
"You stay away from him!" The girl was now thrashing at her captor, teeth bared in a snarl.
Hidan quirked his head at the curious display and slid his gaze to man who held her back, "I take it back. Maybe she's your pet."
Kisame flashed his pearl white filed teeth, "Maybe."
The priest shrugged, glancing one last time at the boy, and headed for the door that lead topside. "Don't keep all the fun to yourself, Kisame. Poor sport." Then he was gone.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sakura was sputtering in a rage and, by all intents and purposes, ready to run him down despite the ramifications. He could destroy her with barely a twtich of the finger.
Kisame gave her a sharp tug. "Calm down, Kid. Unless you want to be his next sacrifice."
"I'm not worried about me!" She squirmed, grimacing.
"Who? Deidara?" He scoffed.
"Did you see the way he was looking at him?" Sakura argued, waving an accusing finger at where Hidan had stood only moments ago. "I don't trust him for a second!"
"Neither do I." Kisame agreed nonchalantly. "But he couldn't be that stupid. Itachi would kill him."
It sounded an awful lot like the shark faced missing nin was trying to convince himself the way he was staring after where the man had gone. There was something unsettled in his gaze.
"How do you know that? He's practically undead!"
Kisame grated his teeth and breathed in deeply, exhaling with a casual roll of his shoulders. "He can be subdued."
Sakura regarded him dubiously.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Damn kids... "Whatever happened to respect for your elders?"
Sakura sniffed, examining her nails. "You're not old enough to be an elder."
Kisame groaned inwardly. "I need a drink."
"That's dehydrating."
"Some virgin kunoichi blood would do."
The girl swung her head at him with a nauseous look of horror, "That's disgusting!"
He flashed his teeth.
"Ugh, you're so creepy!" Sakura stomped off to check on her patient, grumbling incoherently about the questionable sanity of akatsuki criminals and their revolting infatuation with canabilism.
Author's Notes: It occurs to me that I find myself lost and confused when writing on an alarmingly frequent basis. I have no idea what's going on. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I sort of have a vague-ish idea of what I'm trying to do here, but whether it's working or not...that's something else entirely.
