Hi everyone. I know its been a while since I've updated. I have a ton going on in my personal life between my job and Tallman's school stuff (and my own school and family and being sick and so on and so forth). I appreciate those of you who have touched base. I'm happy to know that when I get a chance to use some of my incredibly limited spare time to write, there are people happy to read it. I'm working on a companion art piece of this at the same time. Unfortunately its all digital, which makes me move at 1/1000000000th of my normal paper-and-pen speed. But its coming. Eventually. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next chapter and I look forward to hearing your thoughts! Feel free to PM me or leave any questions in the reviews. I try to respond within 24 hours (even if I haven't been active on here in a long time).

The door opened wide, washing the room in the awful red light of the nightclub. A great shadow passed and Miki threw herself backwards against the wall. One of the hulking ronin security agents stepped inside. In less than a second, he had scanned the cage where Yuki and Beki shirked away from the bars and over to Miki. Recognition pinched his face.

"What are you doing in here? This area is off limits!"

"One of these girls left their bag upstairs." Miki folded her hands and gave a polite bow. "I hadn't realized they'd angered Mr. Nakano." She held out the sparkly gold bag Yuki had brought in with her. "Should I give this to you or…?"

The ronin's attention was on the bag. Miki took a step forward to hand it to him and a ghost of a smile tugged at Yuki's face. The old bait and switch. As the guard reached for the bag, Miki lashed out with her free hand and jammed a needle into his neck. His eyes widened with surprise. In a flash, he grabbed her by the throat and raised her into the air.

"You little witch," He spat. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Beki was smiling now, too. She'd been on the wrong end of Miki's needle before. It was only a matter of time. The problem was, he was a lot bigger than Beki. The powerful sedative wasn't kicking into effect as quickly as Miki was losing oxygen. Her face was quickly turning from pink to red as he choked her out. Distress was dancing in her eyes as she grabbed ahold of his wrists and rammed her knee into his face. The guard flinched, hunching forward as a cry of pain squeezed its way out of his deflated abdomen. His grip loosened just enough for Miki to knock his arms aside and drop to the floor. She jumped backwards, putting some distance between them. Miki's eyes were watering as she coughed violently. Her knees were shaking but she kept on her feet, using a hand on the ground to steady her low stance.

The guard was both conscience and incensed beyond reason thanks to Miki's knee strike. Blood poured from his nose, his face twisted in scarlet anger. In a single movement, he retracted a knife from his belt and dove for Miki. During all the commotion, Miki hadn't lost her grip of Yuki's purse. She took ahold of the chain strap with both hands. As the guard closed in on her, Miki dove between his legs and jumped on his back, wrapping the chain around his neck. He swung wide, grabbing for her, but Miki kept herself low on his back and dodged his swipes. The guard turned and tried to slam backwards into the wall. Miki dropped down to the floor so his head smacked the wall instead. At last, the guard fell to the floor unconscious. Miki heaved a sigh of relief and threw Yuki her bag.

"He was an ox." Miki shook her head. "Must have had some training in poison resistance."

"Yeah. That stuff only took like, thirty seconds on me." Beki folded her arms and Yuki gave her a suspicious look. "She knocked me out with it once."

"I gathered that." Yuki looked between them. "Weren't you two supposed to be friends?"

Miki gave Yuki a coy smile as she resumed lockpicking the door. "What's a little knockout drug between friends?"

Yuki got a knowing smile and nodded. "Oh." She made finger quotes. "Friends."

"I don't like how you said that." Beki threw her a dirty look. "It isn't like that."

"I mean, I obviously don't blame you." Yuki gestured to Miki's chest. "I mean, come on. That's making me feel inadequate."

Miki rolled her eyes. "Is she always like this?"

Beki sighed. "It literally never stops. She's either masquerading as a stripper or making sexual advances and accusations. Her favorite people to harass are teenage boys."

"They like it!" Yuki slapped the bars, her brows knit.

"That's what you tell yourself." Miki mumbled as the opened the door. "Okay, all kidding aside we need a game plan or we aren't getting out of here alive."

Beki gestured to the knocked out guard. "You obviously specialize in this sort of thing."

"I'm an infiltrator, Tsukimori." Miki folded her arms over her chest to protect herself from Yuki's prying eyes. "I specialize in takedowns of targets much bigger and stronger than me. It would be one thing if these guys were just hired civilians, but they're seasoned ronin. I could take on a max of two at a time. If we try to take them on directly en masse, we'd lose for sure."

"Speak for yourself." Yuki put her hands on her hips. "I've mopped the floor-"

"You aren't listening to me." Miki's eyes flashed. "These aren't genin here. You are used to having terrain advantages and the element of surprise. This time around the odds are stacked against you. The guards already know you two are bad news and I don't work in this area." She pointed at the guard. "If anyone else spots me, they're going to know it's fishy. Just like he did."

Yuki groaned. "Okay, we get it. Single target takedowns from the shadows."

"Every takedown improves our chances for survival. If an alarm gets triggered, it's that many less goons that come to respond." Miki looked at Beki. "How about you? I heard you can spontaneously combust now or something?"

Beki nodded. "It isn't a good idea in here, though. I kind of...explode a little bit when I first trigger it. There's too many civilians in here for that. Not to mention we're underground. The smoke would choke us out just as fast as the ronin."

"That'll be our plan B, then." Miki took a deep breath. "Okay. Beki, you're with me. Yukihana, I trust you can do takedowns by yourself without any setup?"

Yuki shrugged. "I guess, if we have to do this the boring way."

"If by boring, you mean the only way we get out of here that doesn't involve body bags, yes." Miki opened the door to the club. "Come on."

…

They ducked out of the room when one of the strobes went off at an especially loud moment in the song. Yuki dipped right, disappearing into the crowd. Miki and Beki scooched left. Miki plastered a waitress smile on her face and scooped up a stray tray off a table. She scanned the room and her eyes flickered. "I have an idea. See that booth over there? Go sit in it and pretend you're passed out. I'm going to go get a tray of drinks and come wake you up."

Beki nodded and followed Miki's command. It didn't make any sense to Beki how pretending to be passed out at a table could help them. This was the third or fourth run in she had with Miki but the girl was still an enigma. Miki was a kunoichi but her methods were atypical when compared to any other lady ninja Beki had ever known. Most of the time Miki just seemed like a waitress. Every time Beki had run into her, that was Miki's cover. She was waiting tables with that fake friendly smile plastered across her face. The girl had served Beki coffee and spewed specials like its what she was born to do. If Beki hadn't seen Miki knock out that huge guard only moments before, she would be forced to question Miki's competence.

As Beki laid her head down on the table and listened to the throb of the menacing music her stomach turned. Somewhere in this room was her father's killer, the man who had tried to frame her for it and murder her, too. No doubt Yukihana was trying to figure out a way to kill Yasahiro right along with the guards. It frightened Beki how sick it made her feel that she wouldn't be there to see the life choked out of him. It was that nauseating darkness, the anger that ate away inside of her. It tasted like hot copper and bile as the hate caught in her throat.

The soft tap of a tray being set on the table pulled Beki from the dark depths of her thoughts and back to the grimy, glitter and gin covered table.

"Hey," Miki shook her gently. Beki looked up at her. Miki leaned forward and shook her again but Beki recognized the movements as just a cover. Miki's other hand popped open a tube full a fine white powder. As Miki jostled Beki, who was following Miki's lead and lying there motionlessly, Miki tapped the powder into each of the drinks. From her angle it was hard to tell, but there looked to be at least ten shots on the tray. Miki stopped at the last glass. "You don't look so good," She said as the surveyed Beki. "Are you taking this hot-mess-club-girl-thing too seriously?"

Beki shook her head and sat up. "It's really loud in here."

Miki looked around. "It's your uncle, isn't it? You're here to kill him."

Beki nodded. "He's the one who killed my dad. Then the bastard tried to frame me for it. Hired a bunch of ronin to kidnap me and make it look like I committed suicide."

Miki let out a low whistle. "That's pretty messed up." Beki gave her a tired look and Miki shook her head. "If I'm saying its messed up, you're competing with people being used for experiments and teenagers that are really nice people but also go on unpredictable murderous rampages. It isn't pity, its honesty. It isn't a humble thing to say, but I'm a decent gauge for messed-up-ness."

"Thanks, Miki. That really helps," Beki shook her head with a groan.

Miki wrinkled her nose. "Your sarcasm isn't appreciated." She slid the only untampered glass to Beki. "Chug it."

Beki picked up the glass and eyed her suspiciously.

"Dammit, Tsukimori. Do you think I drugged that one at the bar?!" Miki growled. "You're losing your cool here. Drink the whiskey and put on your big girl panties. I need you at your best if we're going to get through this alive."

"Why do you and my mother think booze fixes everything?" Beki said as she downed the liquid. It burned her throat and made her eyes water, but Beki soldiered through it.

"It doesn't fix anything." Miki took the glass and slapped it on the tray upside down. "You just told me you spontaneously combust. I'm thinking that maybe a little alcohol in the tank will help you breath fire in a few minutes if we need you to."

Beki blinked and watched Miki storm off. That hadn't even occurred to her. Beki secretly began to hope that she would be able to breathe fire. Bursting into flames was inconvenient but being able to spew flames like a dragon sounded pretty damn cool.

…

Miki resumed her patrol. She had counted at least twenty guards around the room. There were booths, a VIP area, the dressing rooms, the stage, the DJ booth, and the bar. Of those locations, only two or three could really be used for hits and disposals. Miki had laced the drinks with a cruel combination of sedatives and laxatives. It was unlikely that all the guards would take drinks from her. Some of them had decent work ethics and wouldn't drink on the job. Of those she did get to take the drugs, they would run to the bathroom and pass out on the john. People would start going upstairs to use the bathroom. It would eventually create a fuss but hopefully by then Miki would have what she needed. As much as she liked Beki, Miki couldn't risk her future to help her. Her thoughts were interrupted when one of the guards noticed her and approached.

"Don't you work upstairs?" this one wasn't as big as the goon Miki had floored earlier. He was younger, too, with a full head of hair. There was a nonchalance to his attitude that would have put civilians at peace, but Miki could smell the murder on him. Nakano didn't keep anyone around him without a rap sheet a mile long.

"Yeah." Miki rested the tray on her hip. "I'm covering for Keiko." The guards didn't bother with waitress schedules. They were as disposable as the dancers; pretty little dolls that decorated the club like jewelry. When one stone fell out, another replaced it.

"She was just here," The guard looked around, his brow furrowing.

Miki leaned in conspiratorially. "She was puking for like, an hour. We think she got knocked up by one of the bartenders."

His eyes widened. Miki had seen him drink on the job before, so he knew the bartenders. "Really? Who?"

Miki shrugged. "I mean, this is Keiko we're talking about here. Pull a name out of a hat and there's a chance he's the father."

The guard shrugged and took notice of the tray. "Who are those for?"

Miki gestured at the bar. "The manager said we need to push the shots. I just carry the tray and ask everyone with a dazed look if they want one."

The guard looked at the tray, then back at Miki. "So they aren't counted?"

Miki looked around and slipped him a glass. He sized her up and smiled when he got to her chest. "Can I take it off you?"

Miki rolled her eyes. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't get paid enough to do body shots. You wanna lick salt off someone, go talk to the dancers."

He laughed aloud and shook his head. "You're funny. I like 'em funny." His eyes narrowed. "You're awful smart to be working a job like this, plus you've got a good enough body to be up there on the stage. What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't smart enough not to let my ex wrack up a mountain of debt and dump it on my doorstep." Miki adjusted the tray. "I didn't make enough at my old job to cover it. I know the dancers make a lot more but…" Miki sighed and gave a defeated shrug. "I eventually wanna work with kids. No one will care if I waitress in a place like this, but if I'm a dancer? No chance they'll give me the job." The lies came so easily to Miki now. All her life, people had never found Miki threatening. When she was younger, that meant she'd become the scapegoat for everything that went wrong on her squad. As she got older, it meant people were comfortable baring their souls and telling Miki their life's story. Each one was a thread she could draw on to weave a believable lie. A little bit of the heartbroken barista, a fistful of the bitter nightclub owner, and a dash of the tragic runaway balanced out to be a believable tale. Miki channeled them as she spoke, becoming each of them for a moment as she told the story.

Miki had to be careful. She had to sound damaged enough that the guard would believe Miki would work there but not so much that he wouldn't want to win her over. The broken beyond repair were easy prey and were often targeted in the back alley on their way home at the end of the night. Miki had learned about that the hard way when a sadistic club manager had tried to assault her once. Miki still remembered the look of shock on his face as she drove her hidden knife between his ribs.

The guard took the shot and placed his upside-down glass on top of Beki's, snapping Miki back from her dark reminisce. "See you around," He said, and Miki smiled as she started to walk away.

"Hold on." The guard's voice stopped Miki dead. Did he figure me out?

Miki turned and looked up at him. The guard got up in her face, his expression unreadable. There was the brush of a hand against her flesh as he stuffed a 1000 ryo note in her cleavage. "I'll see you around, sweetheart." Miki flashed a shy smile and hurried away with her head low, swearing internally. Forget being a letcher, Miki was used to dealing with that sort of treatment. She was barely able to talk her way out of that one. As she made her way around the room, Miki recalled the lies she had told him and set them to memory. Her story would have to be consistent if they talked to each other. Four more guards approached her, each time her story becoming more convincing by the retelling. More money was stuffed down her bra but the smile she gave them was genuine. She knew they would be running for the bathroom in a few minutes and some of these big, burly men might even cry as their bowels violently evacuated.

After a quick count, Miki noticed that of the roughly twenty guards she had counted earlier, only about ten were still on the floor. A few new faces had showed up; they probably worked in the offices. Nakano's office was behind the DJ booth. She watched as the first of the two guards stepped inside the office, leaving the other guard outside alone. Miki scanned the crowd dancing on the floor. A small smile tugged at her lips. Everyone looked so conceited, wearing their dry clean only clothes and expensive shoes. Miki took one of the empty shot glasses and threw it from the hip with a flick of the wrist. It slammed into a woman's leg and she stumbled, knocking into the man she was dancing with. He fell backwards into the man behind him who was holding a set of drinks. The dark liquor splashed on his white suit jacket and he turned. They started shouting, then shoving each other. The man in the white suit pulled a knife. A scream went up from one of the women and a space opened around them. The men's friends joined them on either side and more small, smuggled weapons were pulled.

The guards all converged on them. The men fought back with such ferocity that even the office guard was pulled into the fray. Miki dipped low, ditching the drinks off her tray and slipping into the office. She came in low, expecting to surprise the guard inside. Miki stumbled in the darkness when her foot hit something soft. Her gaze shot to the floor and her eyes were met with the sigh of the guard's body splayed at her feet. His blue lips were parted in surprise and his eyes wide with fear. The rustle of paper to the left caught Miki's attention. She looked up to see Yuki sitting in the plush armchair behind Nakano's ornate desk. She was casually thumbing through a leather bound notebook with the Nakano family crest embossed on the cover in gold lief. Miki swallowed hard.

Yuki's eyes darted up from the page, flashing dangerously in the darkness. The rest of her body remained completely relaxed. "Looking for this?" Her manicured nails tapped the cover.

Miki cleared her throat. "That was my target, yes." Yukihana was holding Miki's life in her hands. If anything happened to that notebook, Miki's options would be limited to running away and dying or going back to Otogakure and dying.

"That's quite a commotion out there," Yuki's eyes stayed on Miki as she turned a page. "Where's my daughter?"

"Beki is at one of the booths, far away from the fight on the floor, pretending to be a drunk girl." Miki swallowed. "I was trying to keep her out of harm's way."

"Or," Yuki purred. "You wanted to separate yourself from her so you could make a quick escape." Yuki waved the book at Miki. "Once you had your target."

Miki opened her mouth to protest but Yuki snapped the notebook shut. "Don't bother. Here's the deal: You had to have an exit plan, and a backup for that if it failed. I'm going to hold onto this until we're safely out of harm's way."

Miki nodded. Yukihana had her in a corner. "When do we leave?"

"When a stab my brother in law through the heart with a letter opener." Yuki stood and crossed the office, stepping gracefully over the dead guard. She flashed Miki a winning smile as she passed her, sending a chill down her spine. This woman made Orochimaru seem warm and friendly. Miki followed her out. The guards were dragging out the last of the troublemakers and were slowly returning to their posts. Yuki and Miki walked in the opposite direction of the guard coming back to the office.

"We should regroup." Miki suggested. She glanced over at the booth where she had left Beki only to find it empty. She scanned the crowd in surprise and didn't spot the familiar blond head or neon green dress. "Do you see Beki?"

"No, and that's bad news…" Yuki scanned the crowd. "For you, that is."