A/N - Hello, everyone! Here's chapter four. Like I said, I'll try to get a (near) weekly update - just promise you won't freak out if I don't publish a new chapter EXACTLY a week from today. I'm still pretty busy right now, and I can only catch a quick moment (if that) to write.

Anyway, please enjoy! As always, feel free to R&R.

Chapter Four - Smaller In Person

It wasn't really the obvious confines of his new "room" that bothered him so much as the lack of artistic attributes. Oh yes, Deidara knew that the door was locked, the walls were layered with soundproof padding, and the small window in the corner was barred. It was much like his recent cell in the Quad C – lacking the entertainment of television, naturally. Still, at least he wasn't magnetized to a steel chair or chained to the rusty metal pole that appeared to be keeping the ceiling from crumbling.

No, the only problem with this latest arrangement was the grey. Burnished iron and silver melded together to form sharp edges and corners, and the only pale, sickly light came from a mercury bulb hanging on a cord above his head.

Deidara had been sitting with his knees pulled to his chest – not on the chair, but against the wall – for what felt like an eternity. His arms hung loosely at his sides, with one finger absently twirling a strand of golden-blonde hair around...and around…and around. His eyes burned with blue fire, the only indicator of his rage. Imagine what I could do with just two bottles of spray paint in this room, un! Or even a colored-smoke bomb!

Art was honestly the only thing he could focus on right now without going insane. Too many events had transpired in the course of twenty four hours; he couldn't think about it. He just…couldn't process it, even if he tried. And Ino…

Deidara closed his eyes, determined not to dwell on the matter. He had exhausted his brain enough already, trying to think through his current predicament. Suddenly, the silence that had surrounded him for hours was punctuated by the prominent sound of echoing footsteps, emanating from the hallway outside. The blonde leapt to his feet, pressing himself against the wall next to the door. I'm gonna jump this guy, and after that…I'll think of something, un. It was just like the cheesy plotline of one of those old thriller/action films he used to watch with Ino, which made him worry slightly. Too cliché, too well known. Still, he had no time to think of a new idea…the noises beyond the door grew louder and louder.

His plan locked in place, he crouched as the footsteps stopped directly outside. He tried to convince himself that he would overpower whoever was on the other side, no matter how experienced a fighter. All he needed was the element of surprise.

"I can see you, Deidara."

Deidara froze at the cold, toneless voice that filled the quiet of the cell. There goes that idea.

"Step toward the opposite wall, with your hands above your head."

"Or what?" The blonde answered, clenching his sweaty fingers into fists. His spark of defiance was stupid and childish, considering there was now no way for him to escape. He couldn't be bothered to care.

"Or I shoot you through this wall. Believe me, with my talents and current weapon, it would be extraordinarily simple. Still, I would prefer not to make a mess." The statement was so blunt that Deidara blinked and instinctively backed away. "Keep going. Hands on your head, now."

Scowling heavily, he did as he was told. "Damn it," He muttered under his breath. The fleeting hope of freedom had evaporated in an instant, leaving cold dread to settle in his stomach. In that moment, he realized that the will to live still flared inside him. Survivor. You're a survivor. That was how he was classified, in the natural order of things.

The cell door slid open quickly, and a figure was outlined against the dim background of the hall. He was wearing a black cloak (also cliché, Deidara noted) and dark hair spilled in inky waves from the sides of the hood, snaking down his shoulders. Red eyes gleamed from under the cowl, and for an instant the blonde felt a flash of fear. Pull yourself together. They're just contacts.

The man stepped into the cell, and Deidara noticed the subtle gleam of a knife under the thick material of his robe. I don't remember seeing this guy before. Then again, I was drugged when they dragged me down here. In fact, now that he thought back to it, he did remember something – a shadow against the wall, in the abstract form of a human shape. Shivers crawled up his spine, for no apparent reason.

"How'd you do that, un?" Deidara questioned, backing against the wall. The man raised an eyebrow. "It's just…not many people I know can see through a freaking solid wall. Some kind of tech, isn't it?" He smiled charismatically as the man tilted his head, even though the feeling of unease was slowly growing. "So is it the contacts? Come on, you can tell –" He stopped. Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. The fear – it just kept bulging in his gut, choking him. Ridiculous. There was no reason to be afraid of this guard; he was just another crony, after all. If anyone, Pein was to fear.

It was then that Deidara noticed a thin mist floating through the air. And it was then that he realized – the bottom half of the man's face was covered. A thick brown cloth was wrapped heavily around the nose and mouth area.

Shit.

Fear continued to consume him, tearing at his insides and blurring his sensible consciousness. Some kind of drug, he thought wildly. What are they trying to do, un? It was possible that they were attempting to placate him, to exhaust his mind and body after the fake surge of adrenaline. But why would they…?

Deidara fell against the wall, doubling over and coughing furiously as if attempting to rid his lungs of the poisonous substance. The terror was gradually overwhelming him, making him want to scream. He could already feel tears leaking from his eyes, making tracks down his cheeks. Gasping for breath, he struggled to stay away from the man in the black cloak, the shadows of the cell – even the lone light bulb, swinging above him on its cord. Suddenly, everything felt like a threat.

Focus, FOCUS! Think, you idiot! But he couldn't think, and panic gripped his mind. He felt himself slipping away. Then hold on to something. He desperately tried to remember his old convenience store house, his sister, even the faint memories he had of his mother. NOTHING'S WORKING! His brain screamed at him, sending every single nerve into overdrive. His muscles tensed, and he shrieked in horror, slamming against the wall.

And still, the man just stood there. Watching him.

Wait. WAIT! Think, Deidara, think! And then he had it. The one thing that always stemmed the flow of fear, the one thing that always calmed him down…was his art.

KATSU! He yelled internally, grasping on to a last string of hope. He could see them…the moments of fire and ash, exploding into fragments of color, burning into the indigo sky. KATSU! KATSU! KATSU! Katsu! Katsu…

Slowly, his mind settled and his heart rate decreased until it was merely a dull thumping sound in the back of his head. He sucked in as much air as he could, finally resurfacing from his panic attack. It had, no doubt, lasted only a few seconds; though it felt much longer in his mind. Geez…if explosions calm me down, I must be seriously messed up, un. Cautiously, he tilted his head toward the door and caught sight of the man, still standing in the same place.

He must think the drug is still affecting me. Deidara was suddenly struck with inspiration. Maybe his plan of escape could work after all. He went into another hacking cough, though he made sure to slow his movements, making them appear weaker. You can take down any opponent, no matter how experienced… He slid down the wall, onto the cold, hard ground. …as long as you have the element of surprise.

Just as he suspected, the man slid the knife from its bindings and slowly made his way over, trickling across the wall like water. Deidara tensed his muscles slightly, but was sure to maintain his half-conscious look: eyes practically closed, arms loose at his sides – even his hair hung limp.

The blonde was only aware of the guard when the man's shadow fell across his face. He coughed slightly.

Not yet. Not yet….

The guard seemed to check his slow breathing before bending down.

Now.

Immediately, Deidara grabbed the arm with the knife and twisted it to the left. In the same movement, he shot his leg straight out and kicked the man square in the chest. There was a gasp of pain, and the blonde leapt to his feet, moving in with punches and quick jabs. The knife had fallen to the floor – that had been his main goal – and now the enemy had gone into a defensive position. Scratching his nails down the man's face, the blonde managed to rip the covering off his nose and mouth, though he wasn't sure what good it would do now. Deidara threw a powerful roundhouse kick to the right, but his opponent grabbed him by the ankle and flipped him clean over, slamming him into the ground.

Blinking back dark spots, Deidara tried to get to his feet but felt a heavy foot land on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled, but his movements were jerky and pathetic…he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

It's over, un. And that must have been the lamest escape attempt in history. He silently berated himself.

That's when he caught sight of the bomb. It was sitting about two feet away from him, lying just so in the shadows. It was such a perfect situation that at first Deidara wondered if it had been put there on purpose. Nah, He decided, the guy must have dropped it while we were fighting, un. It was a smoke grenade, powerful enough to create a loud blast – and possibly blow off a limb if you got too close. Still, it was the ideal distraction for getting away. Slowly, his hand inched towards it.

"Are you ready to cooperate now, Deidara?" The man asked him.

Deidara could hear the barely perceptible static of a voice decoder. He frowned. Why would Pein give that kind of equipment to his cronies? Surely they didn't matter enough to protect their identities like this. Oh well – didn't have time to think about that now.

He felt his hand grip the circular object, and searched for the pin with his fingertips.

The man – like the asshole he was – pressed down harder with the sole of his boot, and Deidara winced when he felt something crack in his shoulder. Keep going, don't let it distract you.

"I asked you a question. Please respond." He said again, bending down until his glowing red eyes were level with the blonde's fiery blue irises. "You must answer me Deidara – or else I am afraid you will make this much harder on yourself. Answer me." Suddenly, something seemed to snap in the man's stare, and his gaze intensified ten-fold, turning…rather maniacal, actually. "Don't ignore me!"

Flinching slightly, Deidara finally came across the pin. Meeting the man's eyes with a cool, steady side-look, he spoke; his voice was crippled with pain. "G-go to hell, un." He pulled the pin, chucking the grenade at his assailant's face. "KATSU!"

There was a terrible, animal-like scream as the bomb erupted into a flash of gold and red sparks. Smoke emanated from the spot where it had gone off, and quickly filled the cell. The boot was lifted from Deidara's chest, and he gingerly stood up as a series of alarms began blaring through the base. Automatic sprinklers went off while the blonde staggered toward the door. Without checking to see if he had killed the man, Deidara slipped through the doorframe. Even if he were dead, it could possibly be hours before they discovered the body.

By then, the killer would hopefully be long gone.

Pein's office was dark. In fact, it was so full of shifting shadows and blends of dull grey that the few items of furniture lining the walls were distorted into grim reapers and cobwebs. This one room in the new HQ seemed to be a direct pipeline to Pein himself. Or rather, his soul.

But that was okay. Itachi Uchiha liked the dark.

As the raven-haired man stood there, in the center of the small space, he contemplated that perhaps his own interior was as black as the pipeline. Then he contemplated the unfairness of that contemplation. I'm confusing myself. FOCUS. He forced his attention back to the tapping sound. That constant drumming, making him feel like a little kid again, standing in front of his father and waiting for a lecture – maybe a harsh hand on his back or cheek. Pein was tap, tap, tapping – his fingers moved fluidly across the desk, and Itachi could feel the harsh, cold gaze burning into him.

"What happened?" He wasn't using the voice decoder, this time. Despite his broken, chipped voice, the statement sounded calm.

Itachi shrugged. "How should I know? I assumed that Tobi knew how to handle a child, and therefore my services were not required."

Pein snorted. "You put too much faith in him."

"I don't put faith in anyone," He responded coolly, "You know that. It was simply an expectation that he would do his job, as is essential for all members of Night."

Pein held the stare for a few seconds, then dropped his gaze and sighed. "How is your cousin? I hear he took a grenade to the face."

"The skin on his neck and face have been…scarred. We've given him a mask as temporary protection for the damaged cells. Also, there was some neuro damage – nothing too serious, but he does act a bit odd on occasion. Of course, it doesn't help that he wasn't all there to begin with. Other than that, he should be back to work in no time."

"Fine. And the kid, Deidara. Have you traced him?"

"Actually, no. He is…surprisingly stealthy, for a bomber."

"Well, he's had practice. Other than the escape, was Tobi's mission a success?"

Itachi nodded, pulling out a tablet and placing it on the desk. "Yes, he managed to analyze Deidara's internal functions in response to fear. It seems that he is more subject to it than most, but can escape from its grasp easily. Beyond drawling conclusions for this data, we are also testing the blood and DNA samples we obtained from Deidara when he was still a prisoner. No results have proved of interest so far, but we'll keep looking."

Pein grunted, and Itachi could sense this meeting coming to a close. He turned and strode towards the door without waiting for a dismissal.

"Itachi," Pein called, and the raven-haired man paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Do you think the fact that he was able to escape fear without difficulty means something?"

Itachi shook his head in spite of himself. "Lots of people can escape fear, Pein." He turned again in the direction of the door and exited the room, muttering under his breath, "I had to learn to like the dark."

To: Oil

Subject: Pest Problem

The bomber is on the run. Estimated to be wandering the west quadrant of the Underworld. Last seen on a local surveillance camera by the corner church on Lakeview Road, 1:34 a.m. Central Time. Armed with a common knife; possible grenade hazard – target is dangerous and elusive. Proceed with caution.

You are aware of the consequences should you fail.

Regards,
M.M. Walkers -Official Spokesman for the Board of Chicago-

"Oi, Kakuzu!"

The older man flinched as Hidan's voice rang through the hallways, bouncing off metal plating. He was currently standing in the doorway of the Watch Room with a steaming cup of coffee resting comfortably in the palm of his hand, quite relaxed until the little brat called out to him. Kakuzu blinked and leaned against the wooden frame, peering in to view his associate.

The Watch Room had a small perimeter – even so, it was congested with pieces of higher tech that Night had managed to scrounge up since their return to Chicago. It wasn't much, but at least they had decoders, protected computer software, and several surveillance cameras placed in strategic positions throughout the Underworld and the upper level.

Hidan ripped the earphones off of his head and swiveled in his office chair to look at his partner. "Hey, you hear me or not?"

Kakuzu sighed, not really wanting to leave his comfortable spot. "What, Hidan?"

The silver-haired male scowled heavily. "Listen, heathen, if you're not interested enough to even look my way, I'm not gonna waste my time –"

Faster than a heartbeat and with all the grace of a black cat, Kakuzu lunged, and in another instant stood beside him. Hidan gaped in shock as a tiny droplet of coffee sloshed over the plastic rim. Kakuzu scowled at the puddle on the floor before raising an eyebrow at his partner. "What, Hidan?" He asked, more forcefully this time.

Gulping down his apparent shock (and an approving grin, though he would never admit it) Hidan spun back around to face the screen. "I just intercepted this email. It's from the Board to this 'Oil' guy."

"Email?" Kakuzu questioned, bending in to peer at the blaring white surface, "The Board would never communicate through something that old and open." Unless they wanted someone to see this.

"Yeah, but when you think about it, wouldn't it be the perfect cover?"

"Hiding in plain sight." The older man nodded, silently contemplating the fact that they could still think so similarly after so long. It was…weird, having Hidan here again, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. "Hmm. The bomber…?"

"It must be Deidara, then." Hidan said crisply, as if he had figured it out from the moment he saw the word.

Kakuzu blinked. "How do you know?"

"Uh, I um, don't."

The former raised an eyebrow. "Did something…happen, that I should be aware of?"

"Shut up. Look, trust me – I just know he's good with explosions and shit like that."

He shrugged. "If you say so. Now the question is, what could the Board possibly want with our young blonde friend? Originally, we thought it was another Fringe gang that put the notice out there; however, it's possible we've been looking at it all wrong." Frowning, Kakuzu straightened up and left his coffee cup on the table half empty. "I better tell Pein about this. If it's the Board involved here, we may be in over our heads."

"What about the whole reason you guys came back in the first place?"

The older man froze for an instant before continuing his steady pace. "You don't have to worry about that. Not yet, anyway."

"I'm on your side, ya know."

"Are you?"

Hidan scowled at his partner's retreating back. "Damn paranoia," He muttered, turning back to scan the email again. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, contemplating the problem in front of him. "So, Deidara – what did you do to piss these guys off?"

I have no idea where I'm going.

And I just noticed.

"Un." It came out as more of an exhausted sigh as Deidara slumped against the alley wall. He was hungry, he was filthy, he was…tired. He had never known that lack of sleep (coupled with traumatizing events, of course) could affect the body in this way. It dragged at his every limb, pulling him down until he physically couldn't move, couldn't go any farther.

Just a short rest, He thought, sliding to the ground and clutching his arms to his chest.

Yeah, that's what they all say. Next thing you know you'll be the walking dead. There was that annoying, sarcastic little voice of reason again.

He groaned and shoved himself to his feet. In the back of his mind, he knew he had to keep moving, keeping moving…or they'd find him. They'd imprison him. They'd –

Wait. A noise in the building beside him. A rustle, barely perceptible – but that was what made it so suspicious, as if the cause of the sound was trying to go unnoticed. Gulping deep in his throat, Deidara slid a knife from his sleeve and clutched it in his sweaty palm. It was the same knife he had stolen from the security guard, a few hours earlier. Now, it was deep into the night and darkness obscured everything around him – but the noise was still there.

Deidara moved along the wall, following the sound to the door of a small cathedral. The great oak doors were split down the middle and cracked in several places, as if it had been hacked with an axe or knife. Cautiously, the blonde leapt over the railing of the marble steps at the entrance and stood in front of the door. He reached out and gave it a small shove. The wood fell away instantly, shattering to pieces at the slightest pressure. Deidara jumped back, holding the knife out in front of him. Then he lowered it slowly, stepping into the church.

He gasped. The beauty of the small building was obvious through the mahogany pews and stained glass windows. However, something rather detracted from the atmosphere – dozens of them, placed in random positions, in gruesome postures. Human corpses.

They were everywhere, and there were so many – sprawled across the aisle, crushed under the kneelers. Blood had spilled over the floor, staining white marble and spring green carpet…soaking through everything. The smell of death lingered in the air, stale and bitter and rotten. There had obviously been a recent fight – too close for comfort.

Looks like a Fringe battle if I ever saw one.

No doubt two groups had clashed, but why here of all places? Nothing could get you government attention in the Underworld; officials didn't care what they did to each other down here. Unless it was something drastic – say, rigging the place up with bombs and blowing it sky high – it wouldn't even get a one-column article in the TAL controlled newspaper.

Suddenly, Deidara heard the noise again. He held up the knife and made his way up the aisle, stepping gingerly over fleshy, distorted shapes. He approached the small stone alter, quickly taking in the golden chalice and the bottle of holy water. There it was again, cutting through the silence – it sounded like a moan.

Deidara made a sudden movement, stepping around the table and plunging the knife out in front of him. Then he stopped, lowering the knife and gaping in shock. A small figure was leaning against the back of the alter, wrapped from head to foot in a rough brown cloak. A hood covered his face, hiding any recognizable features. From what Deidara could see, his wrists had been slit cleanly across, and an artery on his neck had been severed. Blood leaked from his left shoulder, and the arm appeared broken.

The blonde tried to swallow the dryness in his throat. Very quietly, he whispered, "Can…can you hear me?" There was no response.

Slowly (still keeping the knife at his side) Deidara crouched down in front of the young man. He carefully snagged the edge of the hood with his fingers, and tugged it gently away from the boy's face.

The first thing he noticed as the hood fell back was the red. For one terrifying moment, Deidara thought it was all blood, and bile rose at the back of his throat. However, the realization that it was hair did nothing to calm his rapidly beating heart. Now he caught sight of the half-closed hazel eyes, clouded with pain and exhaustion. A pale face, white as a blank screen and completely drained of color.

Deidara fell backward, scrambling away from the man. "W-what the hell, un?" He exclaimed – quietly, of course. Because it had taken him about 1.5 seconds to comprehend who the sad form in front of him was. How many times had he seen that face on the news?

Sasori Sekishokudo was far smaller in person.

A/N - And...done! Yes, this was one of my shorter chapters, and for that I apologize. Still, I only wanted to cover Deidara's escape and a few other key points before the MAIN PLOTLINE kicked in.

So, our two favorite artists have finally met! Well, not really, but...you know. Sorry for the kinda/sorta cliffhanger; still, I hope you're all enjoying it so far!

Please come back for more. Arigato, and until next time!

Sayonara