[Disclaimer]

Chapter Six

Carnival Madness I

October 11, 5:27pm – Carnival

Three days had passed yet neither party spoke of the incident since.

Yet something about that powerful moment had signified a solid change in their standing. They were not yet friends, but they were something completely different and infinitely more profound. It was respect, perhaps, that was gained that fateful night. And while it certainly changed Sasori's perspective of the blonde-haired artist, it did nothing to how he spoke or acted towards him.

But things were different now; circumstances had changed and it had nothing to do with what had happened. It was as if that had been almost forgotten or at least avoided. Still they preoccupied themselves with silent yet oddly fastidious training, neither man knowing when to speak if they ever should, and so they didn't at all. A slight glance of the eyes and a sluggish body gesture was more than enough if at all needed. It was as if they now spoke in a silent and invisible language, one that required no words at all. Deidara wondered as to whether the secret invisible language in itself was a true language known to all. It seemed that way.

But never mind that. Even that had nothing to do with the most recent of their concerns. The concern was that they had been spied on in their meeting with Itachi and Kisame. It was not a dangerous man the enemy had sent, if he had been sent by the enemy's captors at all. This was a lowly man who knew nothing, pocketing only a substantial amount of cash if he would only listen in to the details of what they would talk about at the cafe.

The man had no qualms with telling his new captors everything he knew once he was caught and tied to a heavy chair with Hidan's special chains. He was absolutely terrified of them. It didn't take long for him to completely forget the reason he was there in the first place. In his desperation he began telling them of things that didn't matter, such as his more aggressive friends and the problematic family members he never quite liked. Itachi had half a mind to release him, deeming him of no further use. Hidan, on the other hand, liked his desperation. And so Hidan kept him.

But the man wasn't completely useless. He'd already told them of how he was approached in the first place. He'd been working in Carnival, a popular adult amusement park just north of Deidara's town. He'd been employed for only two weeks when the Ringmaster, an alias of the mysterious owner of the park, approached him. He'd never seen the Ringmaster up close before then. The Ringmaster was famous for only appearing in his special shows and then leaving as if he disappeared into thin air. A masterful magician, they called him, an elegant and secretive trickster.

"Carnival," Sasori repeated, thinking his voice sounded rather incredulous compared to his preferred tone. "What is this, an amusement park?"

"Yes and no," Deidara answered, eyes relentlessly trying to absorb his surroundings. They were scanning all the flashy and colourful neon signs and glimpsing all of the fast-moving rides. "I've heard of this place several times in the past, but I've never actually been here before, un."

"You mean you don't own this place?" Sasori had meant it to be sarcastic, but his tone was flat. Nevertheless, Deidara barked out in laughter. The sentiment made a lot of sense for something that was supposed to be a joke, after all.

"No, I don't, un. Thank god." He wiped the tears in his eyes that had not even formed yet. "I actually have no idea as to who owns this place, un, which is peculiar, but what the hell."

He wasn't about to go into the details of what the place truly was; at least, what little he knew of it from articles and rumours and stories. Nobody would have expected it what from his personality and life story, but Deidara was a good businessman. He was more than the perfect heir for all of their estates and businesses and fortunes save for his alcoholic tendencies. And his family knew it.

Anyway, he could vaguely remember the first signs of Carnival when he was a child. The land had been desolate for the longest time, a prime piece of land what was handed down generation after generation to an unspecified family of bourgeois planters until the family went bankrupt and the land was sold to a man who gambled it one night and lost it to another man who died before building anything upon it and so the curse continued until the land had fallen into the hands of its mysterious owner now who built upon it a unique amusement park of all sorts, the first true structure since the original plantation had withered and rotted away.

The Ringmaster was a famous personality in those parts. His undisclosed identity only roused the crowd's interest in him further. They referred to him as a mad man during his shows, but he was universally respected by the upperclassmen as a cunning businessman who knew how to run a thriving business and a creative genius who knew of man's innermost desires and exploited them to benefit only himself in the end.

Or as they say in their dealings, it was all just business. The same was also said to the men and women who had lost their children during various occasions, most especially during the special festivals that were held within the park. Those stories had frequented the local papers at first, but then it became common knowledge not to bring little children there lest they be lost in the sea of multitudes, and people in general began to stop caring. It wasn't like the court could touch the Ringmaster. He was nearly invincible at court, very nearly above law itself.

But time should be taken to explain the very nature of this distinctive establishment. Carnival was famous for their satirical theatres, their frightening roller coasters and their special way of bringing out one's worst fears and guiltiest pleasures. From within it seemed almost like a sprawling metropolis where all of the most sinful people gathered. From outside it seemed like a powerful fortress that beckoned to anyone who dared pass.

People did not come here to realize their fears or to overcome them. They came here to indulge in them, to find enjoyment and pleasure in those they despise and continue to despise. They came here to satisfy their anger and to multiply it. They came here to laugh at another's expense and to destroy anything they had once held sacred. The people here were superficial and cared only for the pleasure of the now, disregarding anything else. This was a place with no morals and no belief. This was a place where civilization crumbled and culture was scorned.

But it was a beautiful place nevertheless. As soon as Deidara and Sasori were admitted into its proud streets, they were thrust into one of the most crowded areas and crushed by the fast-moving people all around them. Dozens of waiters and waitresses were roaming around offering drinks to anyone and everyone.

"Care for some refreshments?" A woman cooed to Sasori's ear.

"Have a drink, boy!" A man laughed sinisterly as he shoved a small bottle of liquor against Deidara's chest. They were dressed in the festive and dark costume that was required of them. Their faces were heavy with paint and their tones shrill and manic. It seemed every one of them appeared rather insane. They had purple feathers glued to their skin and golden glitter sprinkled over them; even their hair was powdered with it as if the large and heavy-looking headdresses were not enough. Masks were everywhere. It was as if they were attending a mad masquerade.

"Right, un." Deidara grunted as he took the bottle offered to him and to Sasori. He stuffed the money between the woman's breasts. She seemed pleased at the gesture. Sasori winced as she laughed again; Deidara, however, seemed not to notice as his eyes were glued to their destination. He put his arm around Sasori's thin one and pulled hard in an effort to keep the redheaded man from getting lost. "Let's go, un. Come on."

They pressed against the crowd, Deidara's grip on Sasori hardening. Sasori was feeling awfully claustrophobic. Dizziness was a rare thing to him, but it was evident then. It was all he could think about if he could think at all. It drowned the crowd's cheers and laughter and the music that pounded all around and beneath them as if it came from the very ground, causing it to throb. His footing was unsteady. He focused on the sounds of his own heartbeat that echoed in his head now. He could even will himself to hear the sloshing of the blood within the very valves of his heart container.

It seemed an eternity passed before they had finally gotten out of the horrid nightmare, Deidara leading the way. Sasori found himself collapsing on the luxurious and overstuffed red velvet sofa within the theatre's lobby. They were on the far corner now where only those who came to retire to the soft sofas came. They were invisible to everyone else.

He still couldn't fathom how Deidara had managed to keep a level-headed mind throughout that entire rampage. But it had always been Deidara's world, this lifestyle of endless pleasure and entertainment. Sasori thought that he fancied places like that often.

Deidara was sitting across him now, merely two or three feet separating them. He was drinking down the bottle he'd purchased in the streets, very nearly moaning in satisfaction when the golden liquid hit his thirsting tongue. He was offering Sasori the second bottle.

"You drink, don't you, un?" Deidara asked after noticing that Sasori had not even moved to accept the offering.

"My head is in enough pain." Sasori sighed. "I don't think I can take it right now."

"Not even just one?"

"I don't have your tolerance."

"I guess. Suit yourself, un."

Deidara had not even bothered to finish his own bottle, small as it were. Sasori's ringtone was something he'd already come to grow accustomed to. And so when the familiar tone started up, Deidara only leaned back on his chair and relaxed as Sasori answered it.

"Yes...? I see..."

Deidara was mentally debating as to whether he should take Sasori then and leave. He knew that Carnival was the ultimate poison to any and every artist. It destroyed the purity and goodness in inspiration by disguising evil as something greater than it in its place. If there was a Hell, this was it. Here the fires were eternal, burning bright and hotter and angrier than any other flame. And the people would come here to bathe in that fire while being served every pleasure they've ever known to them in such an abundance it would disguise the fire itself. But that did not tame the fire at all.

He'd long ago realized that a counter was not a solution. That ignoring your problems was not the same as solving them. And that usually, when the counter finally wore off, and they always did, that treacherous lot, the problem was worse than before. And that was exactly what this place was, the ultimate counter, the place where you can come to ignore reality only to have it hurled down at you like a ton of bricks the moment you walk out. And so some people didn't.

"Itachi told me that we ought to go inside the theatre now." Sasori's quick voice cut through Deidara's rampant thoughts. "Hidan caused...well, point is, they're going to be late. They won't make it to this show most likely; not from the beginning, anyway."

It was as if fate truly despised him that day. Deidara only numbly complied. His body automatically and absent-mindedly followed Sasori to the theatre's doors, eyes straying to the sign that read 'The Ringmaster Special.' Itachi had magically acquired tickets for all of them only that morning. This was the Ringmaster's own special show that was held once a day at most in this special theatre and in no other. And they had to see him, even if he were all covered up in his heavy make-up and mask and costume. At least, Sasori claimed that he did for whatever reason.

They were admitted into one of the large double doors located at the very centre of the wide lobby. Deidara's initial thought at seeing the inside of the theatre was that it was not a theatre at all as much as it was a crescent-shaped arena of sorts. There was no stage there so much as there was an open ground where one had much room to perform whatever they wished to.

The very back seats had been elevated in that familiar way they always were in large arenas such as that one. There were four entrances into the open ground, all of them opposite of each other. Deidara figured the performers would enter through at least one of them. This time it was Sasori who had found their seats. It was maybe twenty feet from the first row, but it was by no means even close to the last row. The audience was filled almost immediately.

The wait was dreadful. Sasori had been rather anxious and excited though his face remained devoid of any expression save for his wide and restless eyes that were plastered to where the Ringmaster would go even before he was there. Deidara was helping himself to the snacks that were offered to him. He'd gone to the bathroom at least twice, having hydrated himself while waiting. Yet each time he came back to his seat, Sasori had not seemed to have moved even a muscle. And then finally, it began.

The lights were not dimmed. They were shut off completely. There was no trace of the evening light penetrating the dome. There was no trace of time at all. The crowd's noise had turned into a hum of animated whispers and murmuring. But even this was stopped silent as soon as the first spotlight was lighted and pointed to the very middle of the stage where the Ringmaster appeared in all of his dark-clad and magnificently evil glory.

But his head was bowed at first, and neither Sasori nor Deidara could see a trace of his face through the top hat that covered it. Then gradually he lifted it only to show that he was wearing a large and unsightly snake's mask. He removed the hat to reveal that the snake mask was covering his entire head, hiding any trace of his hair. Even his eyes could not be seen through the holes that were not there.

And then, as if an answer to Sasori's prayer, the Ringmaster put his fingers to his neck and ripped the mask off. His hair flew out in a daze and landed magnificently back over his shoulders as if settling after the brilliant explosion of its black strands.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He started, his voice deep and fluid and tinged with a snake's hiss, "I welcome you to my house of mysteries."

Sasori's hands were clenched into tight balls. His posture was very rigid and he was leaning as far as he could towards the stage. His eyes appeared like glass. To anyone he could have just been an eager fanatic, but to Deidara it seemed that he was distressed and maybe a little angry. And while he appeared as if he was taking in every single one of the Ringmaster's words to his heart and soul, as if this performance meant everything to him, every word and every syllable was actually passing through him as though he were not even there. He was focused not on the words or the performance; he was focused on the man that called himself a ringmaster. He was focused on his old partner Orochimaru's face, exposed for the world to see and not to believe.

Because how were the audience supposed to know that the pasty white skin of his was not just an overuse of powder? Or that his long silken black hair was not a wig? Or that those bright yellow eyes of his were not tainted with contacts? How were they supposed to know that the Ringmaster's true form was that frightening and eerie creature before them now?

And how were they supposed to know that those chills they felt when he spoke was not the coldness of the place but their own bodies warning them that the man before them was nothing but danger? Danger, danger, danger... and yet not one soul would move from their seats or even turn their heads away from the face of death.

But when he looked to Orochimaru's sly eyes he knew that they were looking back up at him. And the sinister grin that formed was there to taunt him even further. For in that face he remembered not their years together but their last day. And flashes of his own friends holding Orochimaru down and Pein ready to kill him came rushing back to him. Outmost betrayal fuelled his spite and hatred and his spite and hatred fuelled his passion which in turn fuelled his art.

These were the blackest and most evil of emotions. These were everything Sasori knew and had come to embrace. And maybe Orochimaru had summoned some performers with him. Sasori could vaguely remember the roar of a lion imprisoned in captivity and the hiss of a thousand snakes and the cries of an innocent woman devoured. But he did not take his eyes off those eyes or that mouth and he felt as if they did not either. This was his show and it was only he and his old partner here.

And then it was done. Orochimaru was retreating to one of the doors now and another host was entering, readying his performance. But this barely registered to Sasori as he made his way down the stairs, desperately trying to get closer and not to lose sight of Orochimaru.

Deidara must have been yelling at him to come back and sit down. But he could barely hear the blonde man's screaming through his own mental anguish.

"I'm going to need a volunteer." The new host said. He was dressed in a magician's classic costume, looking closer to tradition than any of the others who worked in the park. It was no surprise that his gaze fell to Sasori, the red-headed man who was frantically working his way to him. He had a magician's stick on his hand and as soon as Sasori jumped over the rail that divided the first row of people and the stage, the magician had it pointed to Sasori's chest. "What about you? You're an excited one, are you not?"

"I'm not interested. If you would excuse me..." Sasori tried to move past him, but his attempts were in vain as the magician blocked his path.

"Come here, lad. It will be fun. Fun as those 'bad' shows we all used to enjoy as children despite our horrid parents keeping us from them as much as possible." The magician's voice was manic like the others. Sasori narrowed his eyes at his for one moment, showing only a flash of annoyance at the magician's description of 'horrid parents.'

"I'm an orphan." He said, his face blank now, colder than ever.

"Oh—"

The very second the magician's grip on his shoulder loosened in his surprise, Sasori took off, hot on Orochimaru's trail.

"You can't go in there—" The host tried to shout, but his voice was shaky. Deidara shot past him. "Or you!" But it was futile. The host allegedly shook his head and resumed the show, assuming that security would take care of the trespassers.

Sasori was getting ever distant from Deidara, but the ringing of his phone continued to be heard. Sasori, however, was focused solely on the fleeing figure of who he believed to be Orochimaru under the black cape. A couple of guards appeared before him. He very narrowly dispatched them both with only the smallest hint of slowing down. And once they were down, he was back to top speed. Once Sasori's phone stopped ringing, the caller giving up on him, it was Deidara's turn to answer it.

"Tell me Sasori isn't chasing him down already. He's not answering—" Itachi said, though his tone sounded defeated.

"Are you psychic, un? We should have strapped him to the chair or something. Where are Hidan's chains when you need them?" Deidara scoffed. While his legs were far from tired, he was. He slipped past the burly guards who had only just recovered from Sasori's attack. "Why didn't any of you tell me he was this fast, un?"

"He's mechanical." Itachi said bitterly. "Where are you? We're coming in. We have to get to Sasori before he does anything stupid."

"Outside the theatre. Somewhere there, anyway, un."

Deidara had already followed Sasori out of the theatre, but as he ducked down one last curtain he was torn between two paths with no trace of Sasori on either one of them.

"Shit, un."

Elsewhere...

"Park, Hidan. Fast. It's begun." Itachi ordered firmly.

"I don't know if you've noticed yet, Mr. Uchiha," Hidan stressed the Mr. "but we're kind of stuck in fucking traffic right now." He replied sarcastically.

"And if I hadn't had to pick you up going here I wouldn't be." Itachi replied nonchalantly. "So clearly, this is your fault."

"Traffic is my fault?" Hidan repeated, teeth grinded together. "You know what? Let's go in. I don't fucking care anymore." He suddenly took a violent swerve to the right, veering off the line and running over one of the fences that separate Carnival from the road. They had fortunately ended up in a sparse area with little people, but the small crowd that were there immediately parted in fear of being run over. Screams rose.

"Hidan, what the hell?" Kisame reprimanded, still trying to find his voice. "The cops will get here before we get him."

"If we die now, it's your fault for letting him drive in the first place, you know that?" Kakuzu muttered either to Itachi or to Kisame but to neither in particular. "I'm going to say a prayer for Kisame's car now. Hopefully it doesn't get too damaged that it can't be sold when we crash and die."

"Kakuzu, you've never had a lack for money. Why the interest in it?" Kisame asked suddenly, momentarily distracted from the dangerous driving.

"Don't pretend to care, Kisame." Itachi said.

"Money rules the world." Kakuzu grumbled, catching Itachi's comment.

"Brakes!" Kisame suddenly lurched forward from the backseat and shouted at Hidan, confusing the silver-haired man. Kisame was focused on the man in the middle of the road who did not run to the sides with the rest of the crowd and was instead standing right in their way as if he were planning to die that day. Luckily, even in his confusion, Hidan managed to step hard on the brakes as he cursed Kisame for startling him like that.

You see it often in movies, that when somebody is about to run another other, they'd hit the brakes and the car would stop an inch before the person, leaving them unscathed but only narrowly avoiding either serious injury or death. That doesn't really happen in real life. And it didn't happen here.

And when the blonde-haired man turned, and Itachi and Kisame identified him to be Deidara, they only felt worse. Kisame was about to turn the wheel, never minding crashing into a wall. But it was too late. And yet the expected impact never came.

Deidara had jumped up just in time, avoiding collision and injury, and landing safely on the car's windshield. Even before the car had come to a complete stop, Deidara was already tapping on Hidan's window, gesturing for them to open the car door. He said some other things, but his voice was muffled by the glass.

"Get rid of his licence, un." Deidara said to them as he swung his body inside, pushing Hidan to a different seat. Hidan was protesting but Kakuzu gagged him with his own fist.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Kisame asked, sitting back properly at the back seat.

"Movies, un." Deidara answered absent-mindedly as he fumbled with the car's buttons. "Pretty cool car." He remarked as he stepped on the pedal. "Hang on, un." But they had already accelerated to terrifying speeds.

Carnival

Take a turn here, another one there, and now he's going straight ahead...

It took longer than he would have hoped but Sasori had finally cornered Orochimaru. He could already smell Orochimaru's faint yet disturbingly familiar scent soothing him.

"Game over, Orochimaru," He managed a somewhat cold voice. It was trembling, though, a sign that he was more than terrified even if he didn't believe for one second that he could be. "You die here." He was already ready to plunge the poison-tipped hose, not sharp at all by the way, into his former comrade when the hooded figure yelled, "Wait!"

And he did stop, not because he was told to but because the voice that came from the figure was not Orochimaru's.

"It's me, Sasori." The man pulled the hood down and peeled off a mask to reveal a different face. The black wig came off easily to reveal long grey hair in its place. The face was still covered in white scales, but Sasori figured it was just leftover make-up.

"Kabuto." Sasori narrowed his eyes. He felt a tinge of disappointment well up in him, but another one was there, too, one he should have expected: relief. Relief that he would not die that day? No, it couldn't be...I have no regards for my own life. But then... He shook his head, refusing to go down that road. He could not afford to think of such things just then or at all. Suddenly, he was on high alert. The sounds of risky driving were closing down on them. He looked once more to Kabuto to see that he, too, could hear it. "Get out of here. Fast." Sasori hissed.

Kabuto's body was arched, ready to sprint and leave, but his face continued to look to Sasori. "I assume you still haven't told them, then?"

"No." Sasori furrowed his dainty little eyebrows. "Go!" He very nearly roared.

Kabuto might have chuckled as he disappeared. Whatever sound he made was drowned by the sound of the car that barely stopped before it hit him. Deidara was the first to step out and barrage him with questions. Sasori recovered from his daze a little too late.

"What the hell was that about, un?" Deidara asked, sounding rather irritated and perfectly like himself.

"It wasn't him." Sasori stated flatly. "It was a hoax. I let him go as soon as I realized it."

"Well, damn." Hidan said petulantly. He was still peeved from the events in the car and before it. "All that for what? Fucking nothing. We might as well hang around and enjoy the fucking place. I think I saw a bar or two that we haven't crashed into yet."

"Don't you dare—" Kakuzu warned, his voice much like poison.

"I'll watch him." Kisame volunteered, sounding just as disappointed and exhausted as the others. "We'll go see a show or something. Maybe drink a few beers. No trouble."

Deidara had been watching them quietly. "It might be a good idea to go, too, un. You don't look too good." He said to Sasori.

Sasori's eyes met his for a second. His lips pressed together. "Alright." He sighed, defeated. He turned to Itachi and Kakuzu. "And you two?"

"We'll try to get the car out with as little trouble as possible." Itachi said.

A slight glance towards the vehicle explained much of their recent adventures. Sasori would have shook his head if it had been appropriate for the moment.

"Did you guys let Hidan drive again?"

"He's our fastest driver." Kisame answered defensively.

"And now you have a firsthand account of how and why." Sasori said nonchalantly. A small crowd was already forming around them, leaving Kakuzu and Itachi with their work cut out for them.

7:47pm

It was a tough and gruelling yet repetitive process, but Itachi and Kakuzu were used to it. There had been an inside joke between them years before, something about how they were Akatsuki's 'cleaning ladies' since their jobs were to figuratively and literally 'clean up' after the other member's messes.

The crowd had dispersed and the car removed. Hidan, Kisame, Deidara and Sasori had been off watching a show and were expecting Kakuzu and Itachi to join them as soon as they were done.

"They're waiting for us, Itachi." Kakuzu called after him. But Itachi was simply not done yet; at least, he didn't feel that he was. He was walking around that alley, his eyes scanning everything, as if by doing so the unsettling feeling in him would go away.

He'd seen the cloaked man leave when the others didn't. His eyes were more powerful. Sasori had let him go, true, but the speed of the man's escape was beyond normal. And where did he go off to? There was no escape route in this place. This was a simple alley and he was cornered. And yet he disappeared into the darkness like a shadow returning to its root.

Itachi, being Itachi, always thought things through and through. And it was a curse for with that came his rather pessimistic view on life. It was always the worst-case scenario that he couldn't help but believe in. His mind was convinced that Sasori had lied to them, betrayed them, following in the footsteps of his master. But his heart believed in their friendship, as cliché as that phrase went. He had never trusted Orochimaru, never even liked him. But Sasori was like a brother to him.

And so he decided to let it go. His mind's accusations had gotten him in trouble enough in the past, very nearly destroying his friendship with Kisame and very nearly completely destroying his family, save his brother. Maybe sometimes instinct was to be ignored. Itachi walked to Kakuzu with a heavy but accepting heart, ready to join the rest of his friends at one of the smaller theatres in the park. And then he found it. The evidence his mind had frantically tried to warn him about.

It was a little paper, folded carefully and perfectly, left in the floor covered by the shadow of a crate. He felt that he knew what it was even before he picked it up; but even so, as his eyes scanned the contents of it, he felt his heart broken, betrayed. He wanted to crush the paper with his bare hands, make it disappear, as if doing so would undo what had been done. But he did nothing to it, not even crumple its corners or further crease its folds.

"It wasn't a hoax." Itachi said, his voice sad despite of himself. Kakuzu knew better than to ask questions. He was informed well enough to recognize what the paper was. And while he would have doubted Sasori's ability to commit treason against them, Itachi's confirmation was proof enough of anything.

"But why did he let him go?" He asked, immediately regretting it. He knew. They all did.

"I don't know. Maybe Pein was wrong. Maybe Sasori wasn't ready for this." Anguish. Anguish behind the cold mask and the impassive facade.

"You don't trust him?"

"Not in this state, no, unfortunately." He sighed.

A/N: Another halved chapter. It reached over five thousand words so I decided to cut it into two and update earlier. I wasn't even able to squeeze in any of the scenes I originally intended to...damn. I think now that we're over and done with the introduction chapters, things will get more interesting. When I'd planned this story out, I'd intended it to be an adventure over the world. Six chapters and we're still in the same country, though...that's slow. Time to liven things up a bit, don't you think?

By the way...the title doesn't really make sense up to this point. It was actually named after a one shot I wrote (but never posted) of Sasori and Deidara months ago. I'll cross my fingers and hope it makes it to the next chapter, if only to make the title make some sense.