"I don't like this." The man in the suit snarled, kicking Iruka gently with his toe. Mizuki snarled back, moving to stand between the man and the drugged-out Iruka who was sprawled on the couch.
"Ignore him." The other man said, his voice bored. "It's just another of Mizuki's little toys; obviously, he's drugged out of his mind." The man shifted, his eyes flickering over Iruka. "He's better looking than the last…would you consider selling this one?"
"No." Mizuki said, still glaring at the first man. "This one's special; he's mine."
"Whatever." The third man, who had so far been utterly silent, suddenly spoke up. "We didn't come to discuss your pets. Where' the shipment?"
"In the closet." Mizuki said, moving to unlock the door. Several moments later, he had spread the contents of one of the fourteen boxes on the table. A hundred small packets of glistening white powder; 100 pure cocaine. Of course, by the time these men sold it on the street, it'd have been laced with so much shit it would triple the size of the shipment, but that wasn't Mizuki's problem. He watched silently as goon #2 tested it and kept his jiggling in check. They should trust him by now; he'd never gone funny on a deal. On the other hand, these men wouldn't trust their own mothers…
"It's good." The goon announced unnecessarily, stepping back.
The leader nodded shortly and gestured. Goon #4, who'd been lurking by the door, stepped forward and presented his wrist to the leader, who unlocked a small briefcase from the handcuffs he'd been wearing.
Mizuki smiled. He only dealt in cash; one of his eccentricities that his customers had learned to deal with. Banks were too easy to trace; cash was painless and didn't leave a trail. The leader opened the case and shoved it across the table to Mizuki, who counted it quickly (he didn't trust them any more than they trusted him), then nodded and snapped the case shut.
"The next shipment's going to be delayed; I'll contact you." Mizuki said, standing. "Had to eliminate a couple of runners. Caught them with their fingers in the goods." He smiled thinly.
"Don't let it be delayed too much." The leader said, standing. "We can always find another supplier…"
"Not like me." Mizuki said, his voice flat and confident. "I…"
"POLICE! DROP TO THE FLOOR RIGHT NOW!" The harsh voice screamed. Mizuki dropped, but he was already pulling out the gun from under the couch. He heard someone firing; one of the goons had gotten his gun out fast. Crawling along the floor, Mizuki bumped into Iruka's leg and snarled. Grabbing Iruka, he yanked him down, ignoring the thump as Iruka's shoulder hit the table on the way down. Have to get the cash…
He reached up and grabbed the briefcase, then impatiently tugged Iruka's hair. "Crawl, damn it!" He hissed. He had an escape route out the bedroom; he'd known he wouldn't be able to do this forever. He'd planned accordingly. Iruka blinked at him, then started crawling; his drug-fogged mind slow to understand what was going on.
A bullet ricocheted off the table and came damn close to burying itself in Mizuki's head; he cursed, shoving Iruka ahead of him. He heard the shooting starting to die down; this was too damn slow.
Suddenly Iruka cried out; a stray bullet caught him in the back and he collapsed, writhing. Mizuki hesitated a bare moment, then, scowling, crawled away. He'd come back for him…they'd know he was being held against his will, and they'd let him go. And then, one day when Iruka thought he was safe, he'd come back for him…
He got into the bedroom, kicked the escape hatch open, and slid out, confident that he had enough of a head start to make it…
…
Kakashi grimly pushed past the men. He'd heard Iruka; even over the guns and the shouting, he'd recognized that voice. It had taken everything in him to keep his promise. As soon as the all clear rang out, his control snapped and he was shoving past the men, ignoring the bloody, bullet-ridden bodies, searching for a tanned, young man…
He found him on the floor, laying unconscious, bleeding. Gasping, Kakashi fell to his knees, grabbing Iruka. "Wake up! Iruka…please, wake up…"
"Move!" a voice ordered him. Kakashi fought the hands that tried to separate him, but Ibiki grabbed him and Kakashi finally let go, understanding. They lifted Iruka's body and rushed him downstairs. Kakashi crawled into the ambulance with him and watched, glassy-eyed, as they fought to keep Iruka's heart working, his lungs drawing breath. He went into cardiac arrest twice; each time, Kakashi's heart stopped for the same amount of time.
When they finally reached the hospital, Kakashi was left to brood silently in the emergency room as they rushed him into surgery.
…
The news flashed all over the campus. A drug ring; a police bust. A shoot-out. And Umino Iruka…
Dead.
…
Mizuki snarled, standing over the prostrate man. The knife in his hands was bloody; he'd stabbed the other man repeatedly. Kabuto moaned, his hands spasming on the floor.
"Who told him where we were?" Mizuki asked, his voice deadly-silkily. Dangerous.
"N..not me." Kabuto protested, as he'd been doing ever since this started. "N..not me. Y..you know m..me." He turned, staring up at Mizuki with cold, sardonic eyes. "You…know…me. Money…is all…I care…about."
"I don't believe you." he snarled. Kabuto coughed a laugh; he was getting to the end, and he knew it. "You told someone…"
"No." Kabuto hissed, closing his eyes. "Finish it, but you're wrong…"
He remained still for a moment, then opened his eyes. Mizuki was gone. Smiling coldly, Kabuto painfully pushed himself up, dragging himself to the phone. Dialing, he waited for the other person to pick up the phone. "Dr. Orochimaru?" he gasped. "I need you…"
He hung up the phone, knowing that his lover and mentor was on his way over. Letting his eyes slip closed again, he sighed. I tried. I did what I could. Sorry, Iruka. I guess it wasn't enough…