Gaara slept well that night. He slept so deeply that he didn't even stir when Kankuro banged pots over his head. In his dreams he was dancing…the faces of the girls swam before him in the flashing colored lights, always blending from one to the next…
There she was.
Enshrouded in shadow, dancing seductively, hypnotically, wildly was Pallid Obscurity. He couldn't tear his aqua marine eyes from her. She was amazing. Her body arched and bent in painful yet breath-taking moves Gaara didn't know were possible.
And she was wearing his favorite color- red.
Did she know it was his favorite color?
The enticing music stopped and the Kazekage, in a daze, began to lurch forward. His body was so heavy. Why was it difficult to move? Pallid Obscurity had always been quick, Gaara knew, but she was dissolving into one of the crowd. The red head could see the chaste blush glowing on her cheeks and how her hair covered her downcast face.
His Hime-sama was embarrassed and had low self esteem. She didn't like dancing before others.
He wanted to grab her wrist, make everyone disappear, and ask her why. Why was she so shy? Why was she doubtful of her abilities? Pallid Obscurity had melted into the gray of women with plastered smiles and greed shining in their eyes.
Yet Obsidian Luminosity knew she was watching him from behind the barrier.
One day, he vowed, he would break that barrier and every other obstacle Pallid Obscurity threw in his way to deter him from finding out the truth.
Gaara opened his eyes and winced at the excruciating stems of pain shooting up his legs. He gave himself a while off from his office and went into a massage parlor in the guise of an old man. The Kazekage was glad to see the massager would be a male.
The red head closed his eyes and relaxed as the man named Tamaki smeared lotion on his swollen legs.
"Your legs took a beating," the blond whistled, digging his thumb into a particularly tense muscle. Gaara gritted his teeth. "Those women are vicious dancers, aren't they Kazekage-sama?"
In no mood to answer verbally, said Kazekage only nodded stiffly.
"I wouldn't want to be in your boots for all the money in the world." Neither did Gaara. "Even with all those beautiful women practically dropping all around you. So, do you have a favorite gal, sir?" Tamaki asked.
"No." Except Pallid Obscurity, whom Gaara was pleased had passed the first round.
"There's the lovely lady Rin. You could always…" began Tamaki.
"Don't even go there," interrupted Gaara, glancing around for one of the rabidest competitors. Saying her name was a taboo. The Kazekage swore she would show up any second.
"Ah, too spirited for your likes? That knocks off most of the women…" He was still trying to guess Gaara's favorite? "About ninety of 'em."
"Actually, ninety one," Tamaki corrected himself, "considering Hime Maite of the Hidden Village of Grass is betrothed to your brother, the puppeteer. That bloke has quite a few nasty knots in his shoulder."
The blond paused massaging and doused his hands in a bucket of water while glancing about furtively. Gaara observed him closely. Tamaki tiptoed back over and massaged the Kazekage's shoulders. He whispered in a barely audible tone, "Rumor has it there's a spy in Suna, feeding information to the Sound. You didn't hear it from me."
The Kazekage left the massage parlor in the guise of a young woman, disturbed. He found an ANBU member waiting in his office.
"Kazekage-sama, word has been spread Napoleon is about."
"Napoleon?" Gaara frowned. He had never heard of that name.
"A military genius, master of intelligence, deception, and the ability of knowing when to strike. He won many battles by attacking unsuspecting enemies by usage of spies to retrieve information about the opposing forces and hiding his own," the ANBU explained. "There has been a plethora of passing vessels in the name of Russia. We believe they mean to start a war."
P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P
Hannah narrowly dodged a kunai aimed for her shoulder.
"Faster!" barked Yuri, hurtling another deadly metal pointy object.
Gasping for breath, the American ignored the shruiken as it sliced into her forearm. Two droplets of blood splashed on the sand a few miles outside the village. Hannah kept her green-grey eyes focused on her ruthless trainer. One hand covered the wound.
"You must dodge everything. A mere scratch could prove fatal." The paint shop owner clicked her tongue. "Dodging is the next round. You have two weeks to learn this important skill."
"With all due respect" -dodge- "boss, I'm tired from" -duck -"last night's enterprise. I'm in" -pirouette- "no mood or condition to be" -splits- "dodging sharp pointy objects."
Yuri snorted. "You're not in half as much pain as you think you are or could be experiencing. You are not tired, merely winded. Everything's only minor and temporary. The stronger you become, the easier everything will be. Time, practice, and patience."
She gestured toward a large and heavy looking set of knight's armor. "Put this on and follow me."
Hannah gaped at it as she slid on a thin sweatshirt and pants, touching the heated armor. "Are you insane? My skin will melt!"
"Its mind over matter," Yuri said dryly. "If you don't mind, then it doesn't matter, does it?"
Hannah huffed, something she'd been doing a lot today, and gingerly put on the armor. Yuri began to jog away. Feeling extremely stupid, Hannah forced her legs to move through the sand that had sunk up to her ankles.
The heat was sweltering and unbearable. Sweat poured down every available inch of her body as Hannah strained to move, the armor clanking in protest. By a quarter of a mile, the American was prepared to keel over. The armor had barely gotten lighter or any easier to carry around. Hannah stumbled and nearly fell over, catching herself. Her legs barely held the surplus weight, her arms dangled at her sides uselessly, and her chest felt constricted. Stupid asthma.
Hannah's genius quickly learned the best way to deal with the constantly shifting dry mire-like material was to be in one place for as short a time as possible. It made the difference between getting stuck to her calves or running like the hounds of hell were after her.
Hannah created a quick beat pattern in her mind, using the rhythm of the 'Hampster Dance' over and over again in her mind until the American understood why the song made an excellent torture device. Up, down, up, down, up, down, left, right, left, right, up, down, up…
The American breathed in time to the beat. By repeating the annoying mantra, Hannah not only managed to accomplish moving in a less exhausting manner, she kept herself from getting stuck.
Her head began to spin from hyperventilation and Hannah swayed. She fell on her hands and knees, tossing her heated helmet out of spew range.
"What do you think you're doing? You've got two miles back to Sunakagure!"
Hannah gaped up at her Torturer, incredulous and unable to keep her head from lolling.
"I need a break!"
"In war, there are no such things as 'breaks.' Use your Chakra and it would be easier."
"Well, it's a very good thing we're not in a war, are we?" Hannah coughed. "And I have no clue how to use my Chakra."
"I'll teach you tomorrow when we get back to Suna."
"You sound so certain," the American wheezed.
Yuri was incensed. "Don't you understand, dasai little girl?! I'm preparing you for situations when you won't have any breaks! Pamper yourself now and suffer later. Are you too thick-headed to understand?"
"I understand perfectly," Hannah croaked, throat dry.
"Then get up!"
"I can't," the American grunted, trying to stand. Her limbs objected vehemently, trembling violently. She fell backwards and, like a turtle, couldn't get back up. Hannah flailed her arms and limbs, tried to roll over, tried to sit up.
Yuri heaved a great sigh. "Young people are so selfish."
"I'm not that selfish," Hannah protested, standing with help from her Torturer. She brushed and drained the sand that crept into her heavy armor. It was getting everywhere. Hannah suspected some hot sand had slipped into her bra.
Yuri's cheeks blotched an unattractive red. She appeared to be beside herself. Hannah uncomfortably wondered how the conversation had transformed from civilized to verbal war. She hated being yelled at and criticized.
Hannah had gotten enough of that in her school years.
"You can't go through six hours of pain for your country, your people, who suffer years to keep you safe? You can't go through days worth of torture to save the one you love, who you find dead? That isn't selfish?! You are one of the most selfish people I have ever met, Hannah Nephthis. If you aren't that selfish, prove it."
Hannah didn't reply, stuffing her head into the helmet to hide her expression. Her heart had stopped and her throat was constricted with depression. True, so true. Wordlessly, Hannah began the long trek back to Suna.
Hannah felt her blood boiling and throbbing in her ears. Her veins prickled. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. So true. Self-centered.
Worthless. Understatement. Chanted child's voices. Retard. In the way. Good for nothing. Burden. Loser. Pathetic. Stupid. Careless. Annoying. Disappointment. Bitch.
Sorry, whispered a single female voice full of agony.
Hannah hated Yuri, hated how she spoke words that made her feel so shamed and worthless that she could only reply with anger. A pulsing roar peaked in her ears and she ran.
Hannah ran for all she was worth. She would show them. She wasn't worthless. She wasn't good for nothing, a burden, a loser, stupid…
Hannah reached the gates of Suna and purposefully crashed into a wall to halt her momentum. She ignored the guard's shouts of alarm as she fell back. The American was barely able to shed the immensely heavy armor.
Someone put me out of my misery, she thought, trembling so much she couldn't get up.
Until she heard laughing.
Hannah gaped at her Torturer, who was laughing. The American forced herself to stand, glaring at Yuri. "Keep laughing and see what happens," she challenged, clenching her fists.
It only made the ANBU member laugh harder from behind her animal mask. Hannah bent her knees, a heat wave of anger coursing through her.
Yuri waved her hand away as if shooing a fly. "Tell me, Hannah: how did your armor feel when you were running? How do you feel right now?"
Hannah's eyes widened and her mouth shifted to a stunned 'O.' She hadn't even noticed her armor. The mysterious energy- or Chakra- drained.
"Don't know how to use your Chakra," Yuri chortled, passing by Hannah, who stared at her Torturer in complete disbelief. Yuri gave the American's shoulder a playful swat. "I think I like you."
"What the bloody hell? This is unnatural," Hannah held her hands away from her.
"Unnatural?" Yuri fixed Hannah with a hard look. "This is the most natural thing in the world. Chakra is what your body really desires."
Hannah only grabbed her hair and yelled, beginning to run in circles. She was so lost.
Yuri laughed again, wiping a tear from her eye. "Yes, I think I like her," she decided, watching her protégé wail and run in mad circles as she tore at her hair.
P-p-P-p-P-p-P-p-P
Hannah woke up from a two hour long nap after her shower and arduous exercise. Yuri warned her that Napoleon, a spy for Russia, was about. Jolted by surprise at the name and country, Hannah quickly pumped her Torturer full of information about the real Napoleon and the history of Russia.
Yuri, surprised and undoubtedly overwhelmed by the information, thanked her and had rushed off to inform the Kazekage.
Hannah switched on the only Mac in the house, researching everything she could find on espionage and spies. The printer spewed and belched papers.
The American, always fascinated with the art of spying, was interested to learn espionage involved infiltrating the place where the desired information was stored or the people who knew the information and pried it from them.
A spy was the person entrusted to obtain such secrets. A nickname was intelligence officer. Spies specialized in gathering, analyzing information, and providing advice to their organization or employer. Agents could be called moles or defectors.
Moles were recruited beforehand to spy on their own government and gain access to secrets. Defectors were hired after gaining access to the secrets.
Hannah studied methods of spying: wire-tapping…surveying electronic transmissions from cell phones, email, packages, and wireless transmissions…satellite surveillance…
Hannah started when she came across a rather important paragraph. The spy needed an Agent handler, someone who couriered information to the next stage. All Gaara needed to do was find the Agent handler and spy, their method of sending messages, and the asset could be frozen.
'A person willing betray his country and become a spy is someone with emotional or stress problems. Such is not always the case.'
A smirk passed over Hannah's face as a possible way to catch the assassin and spy, Napoleon, popped up on the glowing screen.
Hannah erased all traces of her googling, searching, and results, feeling evil.
Disclaimer: don't own the 'Hampter Dance'
Dasai- pathetic