I know, I know. Its been over a month since I updated. I was a lazy bastard (what else is new?), but I HAVE NOT abandoned this fic. No way in hell. Here it is- ze next chapter. Kakuzu makes his first appearance here. I would've liked to put a bit more of him in here, but things just didn't work out that way. In fact, that was half the reason it took me so long to update; I wanted to make everything flow to my liking, which it didn't for some time. Anyway, here is the finished version, any typos I may have missed notwithstanding, and I swear I will be updating more promptly in the future.
Don't own it. Wish I did. Will have to be content with owning the AU in which the characters are living. Hurm.
"Hidan? Hidan, are you okay?" I returned my gaze to Konan after watching the EMS truck take the old man's body away, feeling a little sick.
"Yeah, yeah; I'm fine." I assured her, schooling my expression. "Just feeling a little queasy. When I opened his mouth a wave of stink hit me right in the fuckin' face." I wrinkled my nose for emphasis. Konan raised a brow at me skeptically, but I must have been convincing enough, because she turned back to the scene for a moment, nodded curtly, then turned back towards her car.
"Alright then. Let's leave this to these guys." she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "I got a number for the Starbuck's clerk that was on duty last night; I'll give him a call back at the precint. Let's get back and wait for Sasori-san's verdict on the male." I nodded, sliding into the passenger's seat again, not bothering with my seatbelt as I leaned back.
What I was feeling wasn't grief, or sadness; that I knew. I'd felt grief when mom died, a bit of sadness when Kiyoi-tou-san died, and now I just felt...odd. I mean, I'd only seen the guy once, and I didn't even know his fucking name! It was just weird to recognize a cadaver, I guess. I couldn't help but wonder where he'd gone after that day; and why he'd actually managed to get killed. Jashin-sama protects his disciples so that they might better do his bidding; did the old guy just give up? Did he stop being useful? It was a strange thought.
No, I felt no regret of any kind for his death, but it was a new experience for me. Foreign.
I flipped on the radio as we passed the intersection of Fifth and Seventh, reclining slightly and placing my feet back on Konan's dash as Avenged Sevenfold began radiating from the speakers, filling the empty silence.
"Hidan..." I looked up to see Konan glancing at me out of her peripherals.
"Mm?" she sounded tense, worried even.
"Another double homicide; same method. You do realize we could be dealing with another Weasel here, right? The press are gonna be all over this, especially when they find out you're the one working the case." I raised a brow, hiking my shades down my nose a bit so I could see her better.
"Yeah, so?" she bit her lip. Not a good sign.
"Well, Hidan...maybe its too soon. I mean, what you went through in there...You talk tough, Hidan, and I know you don't like it when people fuss over you, but I worry." she sighed, removing one hand from the steering wheel to rub her temple lightly. I felt the distinct urge to snap at her, but I dismissed it quickly; something I would not have done for anyone else.
"Hey, Konan, I'm fine. Just fuckin' peachy, see?" I spread my arms slightly to indicate myself, and Konan laughed quietly.
"Who says 'peachy' anymore, Hidan?" she asked, raising a brow at me teasingly.
"All the cool kids are doing it." I replied in the most matter-of-fact voice I could muster, raising a finger sagely. Konan snorted in laughter, then abruptly slammed on the brakes as the taxi in front of us suddenly stopped to let out its passenger, right there in the lane.
"Oi!" she shouted angrily, rolling down the window as she honked her horn. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, asshole?! Get out of the road!"
"Shit, Konan, calm down! You need to get laid!" I jested, poking her in the arm as she rolled the window back up, fuming as she switched lanes to get around the taxi.
"-should give that dick a ticket..." she trailed off in a mumble, then jabbed my side in retaliation. "Like that isn't what you do on a daily basis. Maybe you're the one who needs to get laid. How long has it been since you were even in any semblance of a relationship, anyway?" I opened my mouth to reply. "-And one-night-stands with guys you pick up at bars don't count." My mouth closed again, and I really had to think about it.
"Fuck...a while, I guess. I dunno." looking up at the cieling, I furrowed my brows in concentration. "Probably not since I was a fish in college..." I shrugged. "Why?"
"You should get out more often, meet someone. I think it'd be a positive influence for you." I snorted indignantly, flashing her my Sex-God Smirk(tm) as I tried to shift the topic.
"So you're the fucking Love Guru now? And exactly how long have you been trying to seduce Pein?" it never fails, if ever she's getting all Big Sister on me, all I have to do is pull the Pein card. She's liked him since highschool, when she fell for the 'hot upper-classman', and a few months ago we came up with a deal; if she doesn't fuck him by her next birthday, I 'accidentally' let it slip that she carries condoms in her purse whenever she goes to work, and that she fantasizes about banging him on his desk. Personally, I hope it comes down to that, 'cause the look on his face would be fucking hilarious.
"Hidan, love and lust are two different things. I'm not talking about you getting a fuck-buddy here, I mean someone you can actually relate to, someone that doesn't require you to have any inner walls." she blushed a bit, but plowed on mercilessly.
"Okay, okay. Fuck, Konan! I'll...I'll think about it, okay?" I wasn't sure why the topic made me so uncomfortable, but I was very relieved when she let it go.
XXX
I was asleep at my desk, drooling on a case file I'd been 'reading' when I was abruptly smacked upside the head with what felt suspiciously like a wet noodle. I jerked up, ready to punch my assailant in the face, only to find myself looking into the amused black eyes of Hoshigaki Kisame, the department ballistics expert. In truth, he didn't come up here a lot, as he was usually running the shooting range about a block down, which was public use, though it was usually occupied by officers.
"What the hell?!" I shouted, noting what I had mistaken for a noodle, which was actually a rat-tailed* hand-towel, was being twisted in his hands for another strike. Kisame grinned sharkily, revealing his self-sharpened teeth, then plopped down in my spare chair, waving jauntily.
"Just wanted to see how you were doing, Hidan-san. You've been too busy to come over to the range lately, ne? Or are you giving me the cold shoulder?" he pouted in a most un-manly fashion; all seven feet of him. That's one thing about Kisame; he's fuckin' huge. He's also blue, to make matters stranger. Its some weird skin condition; his entire body is a pale blue, and I mean everything (We were drunk, I doubt he remembers anything). His hair sticks almost straight up, a darker blue than Konan's, and he had two shallow V's tattooed on each of his solid, slightly hollowed cheekbones, completing the look of some sort of weird shark-man hybrid.
"Fuck you!" I growled fixing the various wayward papers on my desk into a semi-acceptable arrangement, then kicked the leg of Kisame's chair from underneath it. It didn't move an inch.
"Hidan-san, that hurt." he pressed a gigantic hand to an equally gigantic chest (very muscular, I'll add), pretending to be close to tears.
"Yeah, yeah, go crawl off into your emo-corner and die." I snorted, getting up and striding over to a mini-fridge I'd managed to procure a few months ago. "Coke? Don't have anything stronger, sorry. Regulations or some shit."
"Just water, if you have it, please." Another thing, he's way too damned polite. I keep telling him, big guys aren't supposed to be gentlemen, as a general rule, but his parents brought him up way too well. Hell if I know how we're friends; we're polar opposites, but I'll corrupt him yet. Mwahaha.
I chucked a bottle of Dasani at him, deliberately aiming for his face. Unperturbed, he caught it, flashing that kitchen-knives grin again. He's gotten pretty used to my rough behavior by now, which continues to surprise me; most people can't stand me, and he manages to take it in his stride. Grabbing a can of Coca-Cola, I threw myself back into my chair, propping my legs up on my desk.
"So what the hell are you doing here anyway? Who's handling the range?" he shrugged, leaning back in his chair.
"I closed it for a few hours; they're finally plastering over that hole you made last month." I blinked, then let out a guffaw of laughter as I remembered. I'd neglected to turn my safety on when I was done shooting, and it had fired off outside the designated 'shooting zone', the bullet ricocheting off the floor an inch from my foot and embedding itself in one of the walls. Needless to say, no one had been very happy with me.
"So you came down here to shove that down my fucking throat again?" I asked, wiping a few tears of mirth from my eyes.
"Among other things. I also had to turn in a ballistics report, but with that done; is it such a crime to want to visit an old friend?" he cocked his head, putting on an innocent look.
"I'll tell you where to stick your 'old frie-"
"DANNA, UN!" we froze, mid-banter, as a happy shriek seemed to cut the air, all the way through my door.
"What in the name of-" I broke off, already at the door, and poked my head out, seeing Homicide's secretary blinking rather perturbedly at the scene taking place in front of us.
"Oh, hey Blondie." 'Blondie' didn't seem to notice me, as he was too busy glomping a wide-eyed Sasori, who had dropped a couple of folders in his shock. I didn't blame him, really, but you'd think he'd be used to this by now.
Blondie, AKA Iwamoto Deidara, was Red's boyfriend, and if you thought Kisame and I were opposites, you don't know nothing yet. Deidara's got enough energy to power all of Rain for a week straight, at least. He's a little shorter than me, curvy for a dude, with long, flowing blonde hair that he keeps up in a weird ponytail, which looks like some strange yellow banner when he moves. His eyes are a bright blue, but he usually keeps his long bangs over the left one, and he has a thin scar over each palm that look kind of like closed mouths. The badges of arson, as it were. I was never told how, but apparently he got them during his first escapade with fire.
The two met about a year ago when Deidara was arrested for setting fire to his own house; homemade fireworks or something like that. Sasori had been dropping something off with the Chief when an officer walked Blondie past, having just been aquitted some way or another, and Deidara stopped, wrote his number on a slip of paper, and handed it to Red with a 'call me, un'. I'd never seen Sasori blush in my life, so of course I'd had to rag on him for it for weeks.
"Hida-kun! How are you, un?" I groaned as the pyromaniacal artist turned on me, grinning from ear to ear. Sasori shot me a 'help me, for the love of God' look, still caught in a strangle-hold hug, and I flashed him a smirk. Blondie was annoying as fuck, but anybody who enjoyed making Red's life hell was worth tolerating in my book.
"Doin' fine, but it looks like Red's about to pass out there." Sasori gasped as he was released, glaring at me while I laughed my ass off. Kisame came out behind me and waved, grinning. Sasori promptly urged the two into conversation, anything to keep his bones safe, and as Blondie started motoring about his latest art exhibition, he turned to me, picking up his folders from the floor.
"I suppose I should be thanking you for the rescue, but I won't considering how much you enjoy watching me suffer." I grinned, handing him a couple of papers near my feet.
"It makes my fucking day." I agreed, causing him to snort derisively. "I dunno how you deal with the little spazzmat, honestly."
"He can be a little...overbearing, but-"
"-the sex is fantastic?" he coughed awkwardly, and I laughed again.
"That aside, he does have redeeming qualities. I did come down here for a reason, though." he brandished a manila folder at me. "This is the autopsy report on the old man you found this morning. I normally would have just sent it up to you via a tech and save myself the torture, but I found something very interesting I thought you'd want to know post-haste."
"Yeah?" I raised a brow, jerking my head towards my cramped little office. "Blue'll keep Blondie occupied for a bit." Sasori nodded, and followed me inside. Seating myself on my desk, I leaned back on my hands, kicking my feet like a little kid. "So?" Red sat down in the chair previously occupied by Kisame, perfectly proper in every way.
"You noted his throat was distended at the scene, if I recall?"
"Konan noticed it first, but yeah, I did. What the hell was it?" Sasori's eyes dropped to the folder as he opened it, pulling out a glossy new photograph, the image upon which I couldn't see from my angle.
"This." he commented simply, turning to photo around so that I could see it. My stomach promptly plummeted into my shoes.
There before me was the image of a Jashinite rosary, not flawless like mine, but slightly pitted and much older looking, chain coiled underneath it as it rested on a metal tray.
My hand unconciously strayed to my shirt, palm resting over the symbol against my bare chest under the cloth. Sasori noted the movement, nodding curtly as he put the photo away.
"Exactly. I remember once hearing that you had that custom-made, correct?" I nodded, feeling slightly vague. Of course he'd have one, bu why the fuck would it be shoved down his throat?! "Do you remember who made it?" My eyes snapped back to Sasori, trying to register the question, then I shook my head.
"Nah, I don't. That was fuckin' years ago, dude. My memory doesn't go back that far." I flashed a grin, which quailed under the ginger's next comment.
"Not surprising, considering the range I assume your IQ to be in." the barest hint of a smirk graced his features, and I growled predatorially.
"Fuck you! Just-just fuck you!" I chucked a pen at his head childishly, which he dodged, then scrambled for a bigger office utensil to turn into a projectile. By the time I had gotten my hands on a stapler, however, he was already out the door. "Damn." I felt strangely dissapointed as I put the stapler back down, regrettably unthrown.
Pouting angrily, I threw myself back into my chair, glaring at the folders Sasori had dropped off before his hasty retreat. If looks could kill, those folders would be writhing in agony in a swath of white hot fire.
Oh yeah. I'm just that awesome.
Flipping through them, I yawned, stretching my legs beneath the table. The first folder was the report on the woman. Most of it I'd heard from Sasori already, and that much was written in medical jargon anyway. However, there was an inventory of her personal effects, which I pulled out to examine.
High-end clothing; Gucci, Calvin Klein, Forzieri; all that stuff. No wonder one of the officers recognized her; I don't keep up with the news or tabloids, but she seemed the type to be high up in some company. Hidemichi Atsue... I racked my brain for some sort of recognition, squinting my eyes in concentration. Nothing. I shook my head, scanning further down the list; expensive jewelery (Not everyday someone buys themself a Bvlgari ring on a whim), posh purse. Ah! There we go; a wallet. And inside, identification. Ame driver's license, credit and debit, Versace membership card, the works.
I grunted, stuffing everything back into the folder and getting up, tucking it under my arm like one of those old guys would a newspaper. Kicking my door open with the usual dramatic flair, I strolled out of my office, glad of the open air, and took the elevator up to forensics, dreading what was to come.
All glass and metal instruments; typical forensics flashiness; the name plate on his door was hardly neccesary. And the black sharpie line through his real name, accompanied by a scribbled TOBI! wasn't neccesary at all. I pushed open the door, stepping into the glass box, and closed myself in with the beast, holding a certain sense of foreboding.
"Hey." I greeted without enthusiasm, giving a quick wave to the kid-ish man dancing around to the music blasting on his iPod.
"Hidan-san! Hi! Tobi is so happy to see you!" I groaned as Uchiha Obito, proclaimed 'Tobi', slammed into me, hugging me tightly and burying his face in my arm.
Tobi, the resident computer geek, is a little shorter than I am, fair-skinned, with short, spiky black hair that would be compeltely unmanageable if it was any longer. His face is almost always concealed by a swirly orange mask that looks kind of like a snail with a single eye-hole, through which you can just see a rich, black, puppy-like eye.
"Yeah, right back at ya, seeing you is the fucking high point of my day." I grumbled, extracting myself from his arms. "Damnit! Take off that retarded mask! Its fucking creepy!" Tobi pouted as he relinquished his grip on me; I couldn't see it, but I could sense it. He paused for a moment, plucking at the sleeve of his lab coat with a black-gloved hand, then reluctantly reached up and pushed the mask sideways, so that it was lodged crookedly on the side of his head, revealing the baby-ish face of Obito, gauze-covered eye and all.
Tobi/Obito's a bit of a weirdo, if you haven't already guessed. And yes, he was related to the Weasel. His cousin, actually. He was actually pretty normal from what I hear, up until about ten years ago. The Weasel took out some weird sort of rage on the poor kid, and his eye was so damaged he had to have it amputated. He got seriously messed up by it, and some how managed to develop severe dyslexia, caused by brain damage or something. He's stuck with the mentality of an eight year old, even though he was eleven when it happened, and he's pretty much everyone's little brother. He started calling himself 'Tobi' shortly after the incident, a result of the dyslexia, and its just sorta his thing. He's actually really smart, apparently, and he desperately wanted to get into the department, do some good in the world or whatever, so he was let in. He's probably the most fucking annoying bastard I've ever met, worse than Blondie, even.
"Did Hidan-san come to visit Tobi?" he looked hopeful, with the whole glittering eye bit and everything; most people would be ashamed to crush him, but I don't think he's ever really sad. I've cussed him out pretty good a couple of times, and he bounces back like a champ. Seriously, it takes him about five seconds to be giggling again. I kid you not.
"Fuck no. I got some shit for you to run." Predictably, Tobi pouts for about half a second, then grabs the offered file and plops down in his swivel chair, rolling across the room to his computer and grinning like a maniac. "Hidemichi Atsue. Run her credit cards, see where she's been in the past twenty-four hours." -before promptly falling out of his chair.
"What? You know her?" Tobi sat up, his mask even more askew, and nodded vigorously.
"Doesn't Hidan-san watch TMZ?" he asked. "Or read People, or something?"
"Fuck no!" I snarled, rolling my eyes. "Why the hell would I be interested in that shitty smut?" Tobi sighed dramatically, plopping back into his chair and pressing a couple of keys. Some sort of scan began to run on his computer screen.
"Astsue-san is the CEO of Kunai Korps!" He proclaimed. I blinked in surprise, raising a brow.
"The weapons company?" I asked, remembering the knife-shaped logo embossed on the butt of my own gun. Seriously; a chick like that, owning a weapons firm? I suddenly became painfully aware of just why Konan was worrying so much about the press. It wasn't just the fact that I was on the investigation team, or that we might be dealing with a possible pattern-killer; the woman was famous.
Oh, damn.
"Yup!" Tobi dragged me out of my reverie loudly, then tugged on my arm, gesturing for me to look at his computer. A list of recent transactions had appeared there; her credit card records. The farmer's market early morning yesterday; probably an organic-food freak. Shopping trip to Mervyn's around noon, P.F Chang's for a late lunch around three, and...
"The bank?" I asked, looking at the final transaction on the list; a withdrawal of several thousand dollars from Ame National. "Damn, splurge much?" I mumbled to myself, examining the quadruple-digit sum. "Fine, then. I hafta make a deposit anyway." I straightened, picking up the file again and making to leave. "Later, douche-fag." I quiped over my shoulder as I closed the door, not quite in time to miss out on the ridiculously high-pitched 'Tobi is a good boy!'
XXX
I was the one in the driver's seat this time, despite how dangerous Konan has deemed me behind the wheel. So what if I close my eyes for a few seconds now and then? I've never killed anybody, and I reminded her of this for about the fiftieth time as we pulled into the parking lot of Ame National Bank, rolling my eyes as she gave a gasp of relief. I chucked the keys at her before stepping out of the car, slamming the door with my foot.
"Not yet." She growled, flattening her frazzled hair. "Only a matter of time." I made a 'psh' sound, but didn't deny it, stuffing my hands in my pockets and walking towards the front doors, staring up at the sky, which looked kinda purple through my shades.
There were several clerks on duty, the foremost of which being an annoyingly chipper blonde that looked remarkably like Deidara, with legs that went on forever, exposed by capris with slits up the sides. There's no way there isn't some sort of dress code against that. I'd totally have been checking her out if I was straight, but as it iwas, I was groaning, because even before I got within a reasonable talking distance she was smiling at me dazzlingly, leaning over her counter a little more suggestively than neccesary, offering a significant view from her low-cut, violet shirt. Fuck.
"Hey there, what can I do for you?" she asked when Konan and I stopped in front of her, batting her eyelashes. She was either bold, or a total slut, though I can't claim to not have been either at one time or another. Still annoys me, though. Konan too, apparently, because she promptly slid her hand into the back pocket of my jeans and maneuvered my own to rest low on her waist. I reminded myself to buy her a beer or something later.
"RCPD." I flashed her a threatening grin (Yes, I can do that), and showed her my badge with the hand that wasn't sort-of copping a feel on my sort-of sister (I'd block out this experience later). "I'd like to ask you a few questions. Were you here yesterday, around this time?" She'd quailed back a little bit, but she still managed the guts to squint at Konan in irritation. Out of my periphs I saw Konan stick the tip of her tongue out, flashing her tongue piercing, and wink smugly. Let it not be said that I'm the only asshole in the family.
"Yes, I was. Why do you ask, Officer?" McSlutty asked, examining her acryllic nails lazily. I excused myself from Konan's grasp a bit more politely than I'm used to so I could gain access to my pocket, removing a photograph.
"This woman come in yesterday?" I asked, showing her Hidemichi's autopsy shot. She blinked, then gasped, covering her mouth with a well-manicured hand.
"Y-yes! That's...that's Atsue-san, isn't it? The woman who owns the weapon's company? Yes, she has an account here, and she came in yesterday to make a withdrawal. I was the one who helped her, actually. She's dead?" I nodded, and she gasped again, hand resting at her collar-bone.
"Can you describe the event, Ms.-?" Konan asked, prompting the clerk with a hand twirl.
"Yamanaka. Yamanaka Ino." she replied, biting her lip briefly. "Actually, our policy on such large withdrawals taken into account, I wasn't the last one to see her. She had to complete the transaction with my boss, Yonkamen-sama. You'll have to speak to him, though I don't think he's taking clients at the moment."
"Well we ain't clients." I really hate having to hold back on the profanity for work's sake. I usually don't hold out long. "I wanna see this guy, now." Ino-slut shuffled her feet.
"Officer, I can't really-"
"Its alright, Yamanaka-san. I've got a few minutes." A deep baritone interupted her, the sound seeming to reverberate in my head, like strong bass from boom speakers. "Officers. I assume as such that you will not waste my time?" I turned around to look at the source of the irritable voice, intent on giving the bastard a piece of my mind,
Only to have my breath knocked out of my lungs like a blow to the solar plexus.
Oh. My. Jashin.
So? Watcha think? Good? Bad? Planning on reviewing? Speaking of reviews, I'm going to be true to my self-promise and respond to 'em. Here ya go:
Sado-Masochism;; I'm a strong believer in portraying characters as IC as possible, so I'll have to tell you that that ain't Kakuzu. You may have noted by reading some other people's reviews, but that be Zetsu. ^.^ Thanks for the compliments anyhow; you're giving me a swelled head. XD And yeah, I was morbidly fascinated by the cannibalism factor as well.
Nisroc;; What do you think?
Charlie O.;; Well, thank you very much. Let it never be said that the infamous plot bunnies do not have their uses. XD And this is supposed to be a fanfic, but nonetheless I have somewhat ommited the Japanese phrases, etc. Thanks for the tip, and sorry I couldn't give you some more Kuzu-chan this chapter.
OMG!;; Indeed. He be teh awesome, don't he? Taller than Kisame, too, if that's possible. XD
Skydreia;; I do loves meh suspense, I do.
Akatsuki-Hidan-fangirl;; Thanks very much. ^.^
L's Lollipop;; First of all, I love the username. XDD Gave me a good laugh. L equals hotness. Secondly: I've heard of BB, but I never watched beyond the episode where L died. T_T Thirdly; there's yer update, and I'll pump out another one as soon as upcoming finals allow.
Schnubbi;; A common lament. *points to earlier reviews* And thank you! I do try.
Dani-Ookami;; *cough*
By the way, Yonkamen means 'Four Masks'. Fitting? I thought so.