hey...I'm not really sure how to continue, but...I'm working on it.
Randomness: Sonata Arctica. "The Cage-Vodka-hana nagila" (live)
oh, and its a time jump. Two days after last chappie(wah, poor Naruto!)
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Whore Street
Gaara had led the Forcer team to about ten possible hideouts of the... pseudo-Sandman...in the past two days, and each one had been a dead end. The redhead was becoming increasingly frustrated – at least, Iruka thought so, judging from all the scratches and cracks and whatnot that were appearing on his living room furniture – and it was hard to talk to him without receiving at least a threatening swipe of a hand formed into a claw or an icy glare. The Sandman was simmering just beneath the surface, rising at every opportunity.
It seemed as if Gaara had give up on the delicate game of clues and hint-dropping. He no longer led them to people who knew a little tidbit of information, a puzzle piece. He had finished the whole puzzle already, but for the last, central part, and he'd lost patience with the team's slow processing of the knowledge he'd given them.
Of course, this was all Iruka's interpretation. The redhead might just as well have been following some other insane urge.
"Okay. What are we overlooking?"
The team and Gaara were sitting, exhausted from the day's work, at their base of operations – a Force-owned warehouse that had been acquired especially for missions such as this, that should be hidden from the public. The main Force building was useless when it came to covering up any sort of info, since there were so many undercover-reporters working as janitors and whatnot and planting bugs in the most impossible places. And the fact that the Sandman was basically – sadly enough – running free wasn't at all a public-friendly one.
The warehouse was ancient, dating back to the 20th century. Its beams creaked threateningly at night, and the wind cut easily through the rotting walls. But it was all right, as long as you knew you could sleep somewhere else once you couldn't stand it here anymore. Monitors glowed under the long neon lights, computers humming and beeping in the background. The uncomfortable metal chairs that the Force had grudgingly delivered to them scraped harshly over the cement floor as the team shifted uneasily.
Iruka sat back in his own seat, his mind working in long-familiar circles. He simply couldn't find another indication towards any specific place with the data he had. Gaara had showed them to the three they'd puzzled out on their own on the first day, and all others – about twenty – had been divined by following the redhead's lead.
Gaara leaned against the wall to Iruka's left, glaring at the ground and flexing his hand – a position that had become default since the day Naruto disappeared, replacing the old stillness. The connection wasn't lost on Iruka, and it worried him. Gaara was the Sandman, after all. He might be sure about the redhead's noninvolvement in the kid's kidnapping, but he wasn't certain whether his intentions for Naruto were any healthier than the ones of the criminal whose clutches he was currently in.
Iruka had been to visit the Konoha crew a few times in the past days, whenever he had free time. They were handling it well enough, with the exception of Sasuke. The black-haired kid had taken to smoking even more now, and worked just enough to pay for a bowl of ramen per day, spending the time sprawled listlessly on the mattress he usually shared with Naruto. The others' worry was almost evenly divided up between the apathetic Sasuke and the missing Naruto, coddling the black-haired kid half the time and discussing the blonde for the rest.
Kakashi had started basically camping out on his shop steps, aiding in either venture. Iruka had managed to dredge up the courage to start small talk with him a few times, and was planning to reward himself with asking the shopkeeper out on a date once this whole fiasco was finished. If Kakashi said no...well, then Iruka'd go out to a singles bar and find a no-strings-attached fuck.
But that was looking waaaay too far ahead. First, this had to be resolved. And Iruka wanted it to be solved, because not only was he worrying about Naruto at least as much as the rest of the Konoha crew – even his logical, serial killer-acquainted mind shied away from the thought of Naruto being dead already, refusing to accept the usual and accepted procedure among criminals as the truth – but also because he wanted... to know. About this criminal, who he was and why he did what he did.
One of his team members spoke. She was a slip of a girl, unremarkable. Iruka knew better, though. She was a genius when it came to logical combinations. Sadly, they were dealing with someone to whom logic was a foreign notion.
"What if we've just been completely wrong, and this killer isn't like the San – Gaara, at all? Maybe --"
-- SKREEEEEE! --
They all looked over at Gaara, shocked and with ringing ears. The redhead's hand, crooked into a claw, had carved a shrill arc on the metal of the wall, the material screeching in protest as his nails slid over it. As they watched, completely confused, the tall, slender form pivoted and walked swiftly to the warehouse entrance. At the door, he paused, half-turning and giving them his most icy glare.
Iruka finally understood. "Come on, let's go!"
The team members who usually accompanied these hide-out searches stood quickly, checking their belts and packs for their equipment before hurrying after Gaara, who had already continued out the door. Iruka's heart pounded as he followed them. Gaara had never showed his willingness to lead them somewhere so clearly, and the Forcer hoped with all his self that that meant that this was it, as in the solution.
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yum. Even more plot.
Thankees to the ones who hurried to review after my threat in chappie 26!
and thankees to Arie Date, who has risen from the dead!
