Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.


Chapter Three

Ready, Aim, Fire!

October 6, 7:46pm – Boom

"Took you long enough, un."

Sasori swivelled around to meet Deidara's taunting eyes. They were glimmering with bloodlust. Any sane person would have turned on their heels and ran away from someone like that, especially if they were juggling what appeared to be grenades. But Sasori never considered himself sane, not after everything he had been through. Sane was just too boring a life to go through.

Deidara's gaze moved from Sasori's bloodied head, gunshot evident, to the spiralling blades that protruded from his hips. They had completely shredded the bottom half of his favourite coat. The upper half, surprisingly intact, was stained with the blood that had immediately gushed from his head the first time he was shot. Whatever Sasori had gone through, Deidara wagered, was not pleasant. But Sasori was staring at him with such a calm expression it almost made him bark out in laughter.

"You knew, un." Deidara chuckled as he pocketed the unused bombs. He only had a few pieces left now. He hadn't been expecting an attack, but fending enemies off came naturally for him either way. He was scarily good at it, in fact, so scary it had been the reason he was banned from the military.

"I had a hunch." Sasori stated nonchalantly. The blades had ceased to move, revealing traces of blood. But it was dark and dried up, as if left behind from a previous time. "Aren't you so much as alarmed?"

"I guess you can say it hasn't sunk in yet." Deidara shrugged. He tried to keep from looking back at the piles of lifeless bodies around him. The lights were still out, but enough moonlight peered through the tainted glass walls to reveal the gruesome silhouettes of the aftermath. Deidara wondered as to whether Sasori would be more disgusted by the bodies themselves or the fact that most of those bodies had been of innocents. "I didn't think anyone was mad enough to go after me anymore, un."

Sasori ignored that remark for a soft beeping alerted him of something else.

She's not there, Sasori.

The message had come from Itachi, who along with Kisame, had probably gone to go get Kurotsuchi at the roof by now. Sasori bit his lip irritably.

"That's because you were never the target." Sasori quipped, his tone filled with disgust and annoyance. "I'm too out of practice." He mentally scolded himself as he headed back to the staircase. Deidara furrowed his brows together in irritation and followed, trying to get the redhead's attention.

"What are you talking about, un? Stop being so fucking cryptic with me." They were literally leaping down the flights of stairs now, several steps as a time. Deidara was having trouble keeping up.

"Going to you was just a distraction." Sasori said carelessly. He wondered as to whether the brat had night vision too, since he'd managed to keep up even in the darkness.

"Spit it out already, un."

"They've got your cousin."

Deidara's eye widened in alarm as Sasori pushed the locked double doors to the first floor open. The lock burst at the action. He was brisk walking to the back door, narrowly avoiding the flashes of light that managed to get through the open doors. The media had already gotten to the incident. Deidara was running, his previous frozen state having brought distance between them.

"Where is she?" His voice was full of concern. But Sasori was working double time. His eyes managed to catch sight of an unregistered black van. A couple of men wearing dark colours had spotted him leave the building and hastily shuffled into their vehicle. It automatically lurched forward.

"I have a theory." Sasori said as he got on the closest motorcycle. He let his fingers get a good feel on the handles as he started the engine. After a few seconds passed, Sasori turned to Deidara dully. "Well, are you just going to stand there like a fool?"

"I'm not getting on that thing with you, un." Deidara said stubbornly. Sasori glanced at the van in the distance. Soon, he wouldn't be able to tell where it was.

"You want to let them get away with your cousin?"

"Fuck, un." Deidara cursed, his deep tone sounding pretty convincing maybe more to himself than to the other. He shifted uncomfortably behind Sasori, making a mental note to prevent himself from hugging the shorter man's torso when they began moving. Sasori had already put the blades on his hips away, though Deidara didn't catch exactly how and when he did so. "Is this right, un?" If memory served right, Deidara had never been on a motorcycle with someone else before, or at all for that matter. Everything he knew about it he knew from movies.

"Mhm." Sasori grumbled smugly. They were thrust forward suddenly and Deidara couldn't help but wrap his arms around Sasori, mentally cursing the laws of physics and a certain Sasori for being such an asshole. He didn't think that Sasori even noticed his conflicted thoughts.

"Don't get any ideas, un." He tried to sound threatening. He really shouldn't be enjoying this, holding on to a cocky stranger while chasing down his cousin's kidnappers, but the daredevil in him felt right at home. They were way past speed limit now – they technically were from the start – and with his luck, Deidara knew they were going to crash into something soon.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sasori mumbled.

Deidara ended up spacing out, just enjoying the wind against his face and his long blonde locks whipping around violently in the wind. Sasori managed to overtake every car that got in their way without spiralling out of control. They were nearing the van now. Sasori pulled a nine from his pocket and slipped it into Deidara's hands.

"Aim for the wheels." Sasori ordered. Deidara's eye widened. He wasn't very fond of guns. He was actually surprised Sasori had carried one around the whole time. He didn't think he liked the sound of that.

"Why don't you do it—" Deidara tried to argue, but he was cut off when Sasori suddenly jolted the bike to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullets that were fired from the van. But they were going faster than ever now, making up for the lost distance.

"Because the prey bites back." Sasori answered blankly. He turned again, this time to avoid collision with a car going the opposite direction. There weren't too many cars around now, though. Defeated, Deidara started to aim for the van. He furrowed his brows in concentration. "Any day now." Sasori said sardonically.

"You're moving too much, un." He argued. "Besides, I don't want to accidentally shoot someone else." It was so much less pressuring in the movies, Deidara decided.

Sasori moved the bike to the side just as Deidara pulled on the trigger, releasing the first bullet. It ended up hitting the bumper protector, doing absolutely no damage to the kidnappers.

"The wheels," Sasori hissed.

"It's your fault, un! You moved at the last moment!" Deidara scowled. The second bullet was fired right before Sasori managed to shake his aim again. While missing the wheels, it had narrowly hit the wrist of the van's shooter, causing them to drop their gun on the streets before pulling their hand back inside to inspect it or to simply hold it in pain. Sasori turned to avoid running over the fallen gun.

"That was ironic." Sasori said, feeling pretty stupefied himself. He didn't think Deidara had it in him to aim at something so small. He was going to ask for the gun back so that he could shoot the wheels himself when Deidara tossed it away. "That was not yours to throw away!" Sasori argued.

"Fuck guns, un." But Deidara was grinning.

He pulled out the grenades from earlier and expertly flung it towards the van. Sasori swivelled at the last moment, barely missing the explosion that followed. It flipped over twice, the back doors burnt away, before landing upside down on the nearly empty road.

"Brat, that was overkill." Sasori muttered, not really caring that the little moniker he had given Deidara during their first argument had already wormed its way into habit.

But Deidara wasn't listening to him. Even before the explosion had settled, the blonde man was already making his way to the scene, concern clearly etched into his features. When he threw the grenade, the only thing on his mind had been stopping the van. He cursed his violent nature for risking Kurotsuchi's life like that. He refused to think that she may have died in such an explosion.

Sasori didn't think most people would survive what had just transpired before him. So he took his time getting to the scene, letting Deidara search for the body of his cousin himself. The desperation in the blonde's eyes was clear.

"She's not in there, un." Deidara declared after what seemed like the tenth time of looking through every one of the bodies from the broken window. It was difficult to see the inside from there, but it was possible if one would only crane their head right and squint. "They're all just a bunch of dead bastards." He allowed himself to sit back at the middle of the street and laugh at the tight situation he was in. But then he saw something inside move. A bleeding hand pointed another gun at him for what seemed like the hundredth time in that night alone. He didn't even have time to move when he heard the gunfire.

But it wasn't directed at him. No, it didn't even come from the now dead bastard. Instead, it had come from Sasori. He blinked rapidly in confusion.

"I thought I tossed that away, un."

"I had another one." Sasori smirked weakly. His eyes drifted to the broken car again. Most of the grenade's damage had gone to the back wheels, specifically the left one. He chuckled.

"What's so funny, un?" As if it wasn't disturbing enough that Sasori had two guns – at least; Deidara wouldn't put it past him to have even more now – the unpredictable redhead was chucking right after such a disastrous happening.

"Looks like you got the wheels after all."

It seemed like a forever of silence had passed before the choppers arrived. There were police cars, too, and then the dreaded media. But neither Deidara nor Sasori cared. They had effectively blocked a commercial street and made the headlines for the second time that hour alone. Sasori didn't even bother fleeing the crime scene before his face was recognized, like a good spy was supposed to do. He just sat there, against the destroyed upturned car and across the blonde who wound himself together in a foetal position as he cradled himself forward and then backward slowly.

"Police, let me through." Itachi's voice was laced with poison and irritation. The terrified female cop let him through. Itachi, while remarkably young at twenty-one and somewhat handsome, had always carried an aura of intimidation with him. His burly and blue companion, Kisame, may have added to that. He calmly walked to the scenario and stopped less than a foot away from Sasori. "What happened?"

October 6, 8:51pm

"It was a ruse." Itachi was blunt.

Deidara had Sasori's bloodied but still functioning coat around him. He was freezing for some reason and required the extra warmth, seemingly not caring about the stained blood that came with it. His eyes were wide, mind adrift. Sasori was sitting beside him looking perfectly composed despite his dishevelled appearance. Kisame was very fidgety, turning his sights to the windows much too often. Itachi was very open to his disappointment and irritation as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know what's worse, the fact that Kisame and I had been fooled or that you, the great Sasori, had fallen right into the exact same one. In one night, too."

After Itachi and Kisame had arrived at the scene, they had very nearly had to carry Sasori and Deidara into the car. Itachi was never one to smile for the camera, having literally shielded his face with his hands the closer he got to the crowd. Deidara had been shaken back then. He didn't look that much better now. Itachi supposed it had something to do with the violence, though Sasori knew better and instead thought that it was the fact that Kurotsuchi was missing that was disturbing him.

From the tainted windows, right before their car had sped away, Sasori had caught the sight of Hidan and Kakuzu arriving and Hidan stirring up hell all over the place. Hidan was famous for cussing off news reporters each time and Kakuzu for hauling him off to work literally by the shoulders. They would have the van inspected and disposed of properly. And then Kakuzu would either threaten or pay off the media. Everything was going to be okay for Akatsuki.

But Deidara, Sasori didn't think it was going to be okay for him. He honestly didn't understand the bond between cousins or even siblings. He was an only child, after all, and so were his parents. He wasn't exactly a family guy.

"It's too perfect." Sasori commented after a long pause.

"Do you think it's really him now, then?" Itachi asked.

"More than ever, yes." Sasori really needed a coffee at that moment, preferably black. Deidara, not understanding anything anymore, decided to intervene.

"Does Onoki know, un?"

"He's why we're here, Deidara." Itachi smiled sadly. Deidara nodded, as if trying to accept it.

"Who knew," Deidara laughed weakly. "The old geezer does have a heart. I shouldn't have screamed at him, un."

"Deidara—" Sasori tried to calm him before he exploded. He didn't think 'brat' was fitting for the scenario, though. Besides, Kisame and Itachi would never let him live it down, the sadists.

"No, Sasori. Its fine, un." He faked a smile. Normally, Sasori couldn't tell fake smiles apart from real ones. But it was easy when it came to Deidara. His fake smiles were unnaturally wide and forced and never reached his eyes. His genuine ones were just, well, different. "But thank you. For trying, un."

On cue, the car came to an abrupt stop before Iwagakure manor's gates. Deidara had swung the door open right away, not bothering to say goodbye to any of the spies and not giving any of them a chance to do so. He closed it hard; the sound make Itachi cringe. From the windows Sasori could see that he made a beeline for the front doors. He wondered as to whether Deidara even noticed that his car had been returned. They had skipped making a pit stop at the fiasco at Boom for obvious reasons.

"He'll be okay." Itachi said it as if it were a fact. He pushed Sasori's satchel closer to his feet. "We already got you a hotel room. You'll be staying beside Kisame and me."

Sasori wasn't sure as to whether he was okay with the fact that only a thin wall was separating him from Itachi and Kisame's bedroom, even for just one night. The thought of it made him wince inwardly. Kisame seemed to catch this and barked out in laughter.

"We'll behave, I promise." Kisame tried to say. Itachi bit down on his lower lip and turned away as if embarrassed.

"I swear, you two are the reason I have insomnia." Sasori remarked exasperatedly.

It didn't matter what Itachi and Kisame did that night. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Just twenty four hours ago, he had been bumming around in Florence, having lost his purpose. Even his art had dulled, losing the beauty they had once thrived on. It was only denial that kept him from admitting it. But now he was hauled into a fast-paced thriller of a mystery by his past, given a second chance at destroying what – who – had been his art in the first place.

No, he shook his head. My art is my art. He had been no part of it.

That's not true, the taunting little voice pressed. And you know it. The material may have come from your skilled hands, but the life in them had definitely come from him.

Sasori just wanted to crawl into a foetal position and rock himself to sleep. That is, if sleep was merciful enough to take him.

October 6, 8:55pm – Iwagakure Manor

Deidara ignored the looks he got from his house helpers. He doubted any of them had been through anything remotely similar.

He was more than aware of the fact that he looked like a bloodied mess. His hair was in complete disarray. Blonde and blood did not go well together despite how close their spellings were. While Sasori may have passed it off as a fashion statement what with his red hair – despite how inhuman the idea was of wearing bloodied hair for fashion was – Deidara figured he looked more like red velvet on cheese or something. While the idea of food revolted him at the moment, he had always been terrible at analogies.

As soon as he got into his bedroom, he allowed the heavy and ruined coat to slip off his shoulders. He stripped off his own shirt for good measure, too. It was equally as blood-stained as the coat anyway. He took a momentary glance as the stitches over his chest, running his hands over the contours of the large mouth there. It was overwhelming; the hunger the very presence of the mouth there gave him. He could remember it as clear as day, those years when the mouth's hunger had ruled his life. Why, he was even crying when Onoki had it stitched. But he wouldn't be sane enough for society if it hadn't been stitched the way it was.

But there were days when it was harmless. When he was born, for example; the mouth had been so adorable. At least, it was to his eyes. Anomalies like that were more normal than most people wanted to believe. Tons of other top-secret organizations made sure of keeping anomalies like that under the radar if only to give the masses a false sense of security. But that was okay. There was nothing wrong with that. Politics did the very same thing. They were there to fool people into thinking that they had a right to vote, the freedom of choice, or whatever else they liked to believe. And people, so desperate to have it, just believed it. But of course, there were the occasional smart people. There was a clear distinction to smart people and just plain in denial but opinionated ones, though.

But that was just Deidara's beliefs. And he wasn't the type to shove his beliefs down anybody else's throat. He hated how so many 'religious' folks tended to do that without even realizing it. The world developed through acceptance of differing ideas, not through the rejection of them. That was what made art so beautiful; that was what made his art so beautiful. He accepted everything and rejected nothing. He could recognize beauty in every art even if it was against his own.

His eyes strayed to the countless of paintings in his bedroom. He had already run out of walls to hang them in and had opted to just shoving them to the sides. While he could have just moved some to the other parts of the house, most of them didn't feel right there. The house was made in that old way, rich in the French influence the entire bayou was crafted off of.

Deidara can honestly say that he had tried most forms of art he found interesting. In the beginning, he had started off sketching normal things. The influence of his own manor's beauty had gotten him into the incredibly detailed paintings of the renaissance era. Reproducing the old masterpieces was tedious but oddly enjoyable. It filled him with great joy that he was doing something beautiful. But renaissance art still fell into the category of old art and all old art was dead art.

So he embraced modern art and made it his own. He got into surrealism, but then interest in that had disappeared just as it did with romanticism and baroque and all of the others. While he was a talented and skilled painter, that was not what made him feel whole. He sauntered over to the balcony and resumed his position before Sasori had so rudely interrupted him hours before.

"Hi, un." Deidara lowered his head until his eyes were levelling the sculpted owl's. If it hadn't been for Sasori, he might never have been able to finish this masterpiece. The owl suddenly cocked his head to the side and rubbed its head against his maker's cheek affectionately.

Ah, yes. Deidara's very own art; the feeling of creating one's own art was always superior to the slight tingles merely reproduction gave off. His art was not flat like a painting, still like a sculpture or even robotic like a widget. His art was on its own indescribable level, not only rivalling the other great artists' but completely surpassing them. Sasori could not even begin to comprehend the beauty of his art. The man rejected everything against him; he was the complete opposite of who Deidara was.

"My art is beautiful because..." Deidara grinned as he allowed the owl to jump into his palms. It unfurled its wings, reading for takeoff.

He gave it a push, separating his palms and letting his arms fall to his sides as the little owl flew as high as it could, trying to reach for moon that watched over them through the clear and starry night sky. But then it couldn't, because as soon as it had reached the middle of the little lake behind Iwagakure manor it had burst into light. It was a wonderful fireworks display, made even more beautiful by the art that it had been even before the final explosion.

"...my art is alive."


A/N: Quick update. This was supposed to be part of Chapter Two, but I halved it for length reasons. Yes, the fic can get pretty bloody. I can't imagine anyone in Akatsuki not being a gore magnet. Also, Deidara and Sasori may seem a little blood crazy. But that's ok since they're unabashed serial killers even in the series...

As always, reviews make me more motivated. Besides, your opinions helps keep everything in perspective and prevents it from getting messy (like my thoughts). Here's a thank you for everyone anyway, though. :)