(SCMC [Sovereign Colonies Marine Contras] — Rooftops — Earlier)

Jimi retreats through the skyscrapers attempting to place distance between himself and the unsettling screeches of dozens of stray cats left to a gruesome fate. 'Perhaps it might've been an act of mercy to leave an explosive tag; if not for them, then at least that Anbu kid in the archives or that kunoichi back in the alleyway.'

He perishes the thought, 'no—it won't do to dwell on the past or waste my dwindling supplies. However grim the circumstances, a glimmer peeks through this veil shrouding the bright side; the felines are an adequate distraction for retaining my clandestine presence among the shadows.' Their cries of agony peter out; if it's due to distance or death's cold yet merciful embrace, Jim tries not to think about it.

Silent as a ghost, Jim navigates through the rooftops, vigilant of every shadow and dark corner. The wind groans through the ruins of Rouge City like thousands of tormented souls roaming its streets. He tries tuning out the wailing dead in the distance to make the journey somewhat bearable. But it's a constant reminder of his failure to those he swore to protect. Jim backtracks to the remains of a COMMS tower; after scavenging some cables and scrap metal in a storage scroll, he stumbles across a potted plant.

Upon closer inspection, all aspects, including its leaves, stems, and buds, are blue as a moonbeam in the winter sky. Jim harvests the herb, then checks his inventory. He examines a pouch from the fallen kunoichi; inside, there's a handful of shuriken, kunai, explosive tags, smoke bombs, and—a green herb. Jim's eyebrows raise at the curious find.

Jim equips the new pouch to his inventory, then pulls out a cigar. He combines the green and blue herbs with the Tabaco before igniting the concoction using lightning jutsu between his thumb and index finger. The moment Jim inhales, the combination of herbs hits him like a Shinra Tensei at point-blank. He exhales, holding the cigar near his face; Jim stares at it, mouth agape with incredulity. The herb's potency is unfathomable; the effects of chakra exhaustion fade as his reserves replenish. Nothing like this exists anywhere near his home country, nor can it by natural means.

Jim takes another hit, 'was it that Konoha (Leaf) Kush? That Iwo (Stone) Illy? Maybe it's that Chigiri (Bloody Mist) Sea-weed?' he wonders, exhaling the smoke. 'Could even be that Kumo (Cloud) KGB (Killer Green Bud) or that Triple-T (Taki [Waterfall] Toke Torpedo), or...' his face turns pale. It dawns on him the green herb species may be the Gedo Statue's remnants the Sovereign Colonies are supposed to have under isolation back at the Elemental Nations. 'This explains the natural energy flowing within the herbs.'

He tries rationalizing other possibilities hoping this isn't the case. Still, the more Jim speculates, the more evident the awful truth becomes, 'that damn statue somehow got loose again!' Under normal circumstances, this revelation is enough to alarm anyone with a basic understanding of tailed beasts (unless they're as baked as a potato). Nonetheless, the sensation calms Jim enough to focus on his tertiary objectives, 'sabotage the last COMMS tower before someone sends a distress signal.'

'Although the vast barrier array encompassing Rouge City prevents anything from entering or escaping, the survivors are an issue. They're dangerous enough on their own; likewise, the information they possess is an overriding concern. Intel regarding the outbreak cannot reach the enemy; it's part of the fundamental reasoning behind disabling most communications networks and why this continent remains quarantined. Should the enemy breach containment, it won't be a matter of IF but WHEN The Red Zetsu Plague reaches the Elemental Nations. There will be nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It will be the end of every living thing, everywhere, and the colonies will be for naught.'

Jim takes another drag of the cigar, "tch—yeah, you know… Save the world kind of thing."

'Everything relies on a Reverse Situation, hunting the hunters, turning predators into prey. Those plumed-fucks are after me, no doubt about it,' Jim surmises, 'perhaps I can take advantage of this.' He recalls mist mixing with the smoke back in the streets and the Anbu's killing intent saturating the air. Jim has enough experience eliminating Hunter-nin to recognize the Hiding in Mist Technique and their distinct ambush tactics. 'Though a few survivors escaping the sewers is no surprise, the Anbu from the archives and alleyway confirms my previous suspicions.'

FLASHBACK NO-JUTSU

Flames engulf the fuel depot; debris and burning bodies fly through the windows landing on the fuel tankers and gas pumps.

END FLASHBACK

'How many poor bastards were waiting for me in that fuel depot?' Jim wonders. His radio jammer interferes with a nearby signal. 'Considering the jammer's effective range, if those bastards catch me (metaphorically) with my pants down and dick in hand or not will be a surprise, regardless!' He uses the jammer to gauge the Anbu's relative location to his own; however, Jim realizes they can track him using the interference if he's careless. Jim attaches a suppressor to his bolt-action rifle, then loads the weapon.

A violent surge of chakra disrupts Jim's concentration: the ground rumbles and shakes; buildings are swaying, then falling over around him. Those hair-raising shrieks the dead make when pursuing prey reverberate in every direction. Thousands come rushing out of the skyscrapers and ruins like an endless stream towards the disturbance's source. A few blocks away, columns of magma spout into the sky. Countless blades that resemble bones erupt from underground skewering thousands of mutants upon boney spikes. Arcs of electricity cut through legions of undead hordes; there's a bright flash, then another, forcing Jim to cover his eyes.

The brightness subsides; Jim's visibility recovers. Lightning surges within the mushroom clouds in the background as half a city block collapses into the resulting craters now overflowing with lava.

The mutants pour onto the streets without hindrance in their unrelenting descent upon those unfortunate enough to draw their attention. Either way, the turmoil works in Jim's favor, 'if the limelight's elsewhere, it's not on me; furthermore, this saves me the trouble of hunting them down.' He gains a rough idea of how many Anbu personnel remain regarding the attack frequency and different chakra natures. Jim wonders, 'if there's a breach in the containment zone? If so, where and is it reusable? It's implausible for them to call in reinforcements if I maintain my current proximity, thus jamming their communication devices.'

Nevertheless, Jim restrategizes, then makes the appropriate adjustments to his initial scheme. Jim suppresses his chakra and follows the path of destruction while using the rifle's scope for reconnaissance. 'The devastation an opposing force leaves reveals their capabilities, tactics, and to a certain degree, a modus operandi. When applying this information, it's plausible to read, predict, and outmaneuver my adversaries.' He preservers through the hellish landscape utilizing stealth to progress through the towering structures around him, 'the aftermath resembles an act of panic and desperation, rather than a demonstration of skill, or power.'

'Although the Anbu are out of my effective firing range, even Kage-level shinobi will exhaust themselves before inflicting any discernible damage upon the hordes.' Until Jim closes the distance, he prowls the ruins watching for potential weaknesses to exploit. Jim navigates through the bone spikes impaling the mutants while avoiding any limbs, tentacles, and other inhuman extremities trying to molest him. The PDI (Personal Data and Inventory) device on his wrist changes from red to orange; the ECG (Electrocardiogram) indicates Jim's chakra reserves, shifting from Danger to Caution. After estimating the ANBU's location, he creates two smokeless shadow clones.

"Alright, get out there… you know what to do," Jim relays to his shadow clones. They disappear, leaving behind afterimages both off to their respective tasks. He remains on high alert, looking over his shoulders at regular intervals. He finds a safe location to land and crouches next to a generator. Jim pulls another storage scroll from his inventory; his hands shake as he stares at the scroll, 'come on, Jimi. You can do this!' Jim quavers, thinking, 'just focus, keep your cool, and move slowly.' He adjusts the analog designator, then applies his chakra, "gulp—I hate these goddamned things."

Dry blood on the storage unit causes an error in the designator's coordinates; smoke appears premature. Jim's jaw drops as a monotone groan emanates from within the smoke. His PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) resurfaces, triggering a flashback that causes him to relive a frightful moment.

FLASHBACK NO-JUTSU

Jim recalls stumbling upon a horrifying aberrant of the Earth Release Resurrection Technique: Corpse Soil. He's uncertain how these creatures can access his inert bloodline limit or why shinobi call them ReDeads. But when applying genjutsu, these affronts to propriety are like invisible landmines shuffling around or lying in wait for the unwary to cross their path. A piercing chill plunges down Jim's spine as he remembers losing control of the jutsu after mixing it with Mud Release: Mud Doll. And the events leading to The Hyūga Incident.

END FLASHBACK

The smoke dissipates; a tall gaunt figure stands, bones and veins visible under its thin, brown skin. The ReDead wears an eerie wooden mask with two dark eye-holes and a third through which its creepy human-like teeth are visible. Much to Jim's dismay, he's within grabbing distance of the deformed mud-golem. Jim is sweating bullets shaking like a helpless mouse in a corner as a starving snake approaches. He considers himself fortunate (as well as many Hyūga) that the ReDeads are smooth like a Ken doll, thus lacking a discernible reproductive system.

Nevertheless, one wrong move and the ReDead can unleash a Paralyzing Shriek. Then bearing no remorse, mercy, or shame, slam its genitalless nether regions into Jim's face bowlegged. He composes himself before easing his hands together, crossing his index and middle fingers. He squints into those black voids hiding the mindless creature's eyes, verifying they aren't glowing. It all boils down to a stalemate between himself and the deformed mud-golem: the good, the bad, and the ugly. However, given the ethical circumstances, Jim isn't sure who nor what deserves which label.

Jim can almost hear the drumbeat and whistle from that Clint Eastwood movie but realizes it's a combination of his heart pounding and steam from the adjacent generator. He remains still like a deer's gaze in the headlights, fearful of the ReDead grabbing then violating him. The silver lining is that the generator suppresses its zombie-like groan, thus not attracting any unwelcome attention if the worst happens. He channels his chakra and inhales the last of his mixed herb cigar.

"ShadowCloneJutsu!" Jim yelps with urgency. The ReDead's head snaps toward him; its eyes flash red. The zombie-like groans cease, indicating the deformed mud-golem is alert and ready to pounce. The ReDead outstretches its arms, reaching for Jim with its boney fingers. Before the ReDead can unleash a Paralyzing Shriek, another smokeless shadow clone appears into existence, encompassing and sealing the ReDead within its body. The shadow clone convulses on the ground struggling to gain control over the ReDead, thrashing around. The shadow clone's eyes glow and flicker before settling to Jim's familiar gilded irises, a sign the clone is in total control.

Jim breathes a sigh of relief, then extends his arm, helping the shadow clone to its feet. He runs a diagnosis over the clone to confirm everything's in working order. After a few questions regarding mobility, and a quick field strip of the SCR (Shadow Clone Rifle), Jim determines both are fit for combat. While placing a Body Replacement Tag on the clone, a rapid wet slapping/pounding noise and several primal bloodlust snarls draw their attention. The mutant's bloody flesh squishes and squelches as they scale the skyscraper's surface.

As the mutants climb the walls after them, the shadow clone deadpans, "ah hell—here we go again!"

"Lose as many as possible before reaching the objective. I need the hordes after me for this to work!" Jim realizes the shadow clone is already gone. He rolls his eyes but follows suit, albeit at a slower rate. Jim bolts across the rooftops before leaping from a mutant's head; he flies through the air and lands on the next building.

The mutants tear across the rooftops after him starving for the last bit of human flesh they can find. Jim gauges the mutant's speed at a minimum for high genin (junior/low ninja) to mid-level chūnin (journeymen/middle ninja). He concentrates chakra on his legs, accelerating past the high rise. Jim sprints down the windowpanes as more misshapen hands and inhuman extremities burst through the glass, trying to rip him to pieces.

An unholy mixture of greased lightning and stale Astroglide slips and slides out of the buildings; escape becomes improbable. Once the mutants locate an unfortunate victim, they lock on like a pitbull's jaws and never let go. No matter where or how far their prey runs, at best, the sole gain is a few minutes of rest. However, escape is not the objective; Jim weaves in and out the alleyways and avenues, bottlenecking the hordes between the skyscrapers through the narrow pathways.

The mutants leap off and around the ruins tripping over themselves as they round the corners. The hordes resemble a long grey snake from a panoramic view growing ever more significant as mutants accumulate from every angle—or rather a train—a Rape Train.

The Rape Train thins as it congests the streets and funnels through the immense multitude of towering structures. Jim speeds through hand seals in a full sprint creating stone obstructions that narrow his trail and diminish the overwhelming hordes into a thin trickle. He knows this will delay the mutants rather than halt them; however, his destination is within eyesight. He approaches The Gates of Fort Firestorm with a feverish pace.

Rape Train

Noun

1. A defensive military strategy one uses to counter swarm tactics.

2. A destructive military force.

3. A victorious progression of an army seeking retribution for previous defeats.

4. A tactic for the Call of Duty Zombies game mode.

Verb

1. Allying to pool any workforce and resources to wreak havoc upon a common enemy(s).

2. When hordes of zombies follow someone, they keep their distance and shoot them while on the move.

3. The term "Rape Train" refers to overrunning an opponent and allowing no chance for retaliation.

4. Lead several zombies down a narrow path, then fire into the horde to accumulate points and increase the likelihood of surviving if successful.

Sentences

1. "Hey guys, I'm gonna get a Rape Train going, so I can get enough points to pack-a-punch my ray-gun."

2. "I find the Rape Train very offensive and irritating, but I have yet to see it encounter an opponent that can repel it."

Additional Info

1. Turning a swarm into a Rape Train allows one's forces to ambush an enemy and then concentrate fire at a choke point; however, there are no brakes on a Rape Train.

2. Youtuber: "TheSyndicateProject" was the first to combine the term with the tactic.