SCMC (Sovereign Colonies Marine Contras) — Rooftops — PAST
The Marine Contra retreats further within the skyscrapers, attempting to distance himself from the unsettling screeches of over a dozen 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.'
Jimi perishes the thought, 'No—it won't do to dwell on the past or waste my dwindling supplies. However grim the circumstances, a glimmer must peek 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, he tries not to think about it.
Silent as a ghost, the fugitive navigates the rooftops, vigilant of every shadow and dark corner. The wind groans through the ruins, mimicking the thousands of tormented souls roaming its streets. He struggles to disregard the wailing dead in the distance, 'an ever-present reminder of my failure to those I 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 before checking his inventory. He examines a pouch from the fallen kunoichi (Mantis); inside, there's a handful of shuriken, kunai, explosive tags, smoke bombs, and—a Green Herb. His 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 Release between his thumb and index finger. The moment Jim inhales, the combination of herbs hits him like a Shinra Tensei (Almighty Push) at point-blank. He exhales, holding the cigar near his face, staring at it with his mouth agape in disbelief. The herb's potency is unfathomable; the effects of chakra exhaustion fade as his reserves replenish.
Jim takes another hit, 'Was it that Konoha Kush? That Silly Iwo Illy? Maybe it's that Chigiri Sea-weed?' he wonders, exhaling the smoke. 'Could even be that Kumo Killer Green Bud or that Taki Toke Torpedo, or...' his face turns pale. 'Good grief, it's the only way Nature Energy this potent can manifest and stabilize.' He tries rationalizing other possibilities, hoping this isn't the case. Still, the more Jim speculates, the more evident the awful truth becomes, 'That infernal statue somehow got loose again! Nothing like this exists near the homefront, nor can it by natural means!'
It dawns on him the green herb species may be the Gedo Statue's remnants. 'Under normal circumstances, this would alarm anyone with even 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. 'Although the vast barrier array 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 destroying 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 Great Shinobi Countries. 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. Tobirama's buggery squads are after me, no doubt about it,' Jim surmises, 'perhaps I can take advantage of this.' He recalls mist mixing with the smoke in the streets and the Anbu's killing intent saturating the air. The Marine Contra reflects upon his experiences eliminating Hunter-nin, recognizing the distinct ambush tactics corresponding with the Hidden Mist Jutsu. '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 out the windows, landing on the fuel tankers and gas pumps.
END FLASHBACK
'How many enemy shinobi were waiting for me in that fuel depot?' Jim wonders. His radio jammer interferes with a nearby signal. 'Considering the jammer's effective range, rather the enemy catches me metaphorically; of course, pants down, shaft in hand or not, will be a surprise, regardless!' He uses the jammer to gauge the Anbu's relative location to his own, 'Moreover, I risk detection once they pinpoint the interference's origin.' The war criminal attaches a suppressor to his bolt-action rifle before loading 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 Red Zetsus make when pursuing prey reverberate in every direction. Thousands come rushing out of the skyscrapers and ruins like an endless stream toward the disturbance's source—a few blocks down, columns of magma spout into the sky. Countless spikes resembling bones erupt from the ground, skewering thousands of them upon the skeletal spires. Arcs of electricity dismember the legions of mutant 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 billowing twin mushroom clouds as half a city block collapses into the resulting craters, overflowing with lava.
The Red Zetsus 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 in use. The mass murderer 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, adjusting his initial scheme. He 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, reading, predicting, and outmaneuvering my adversaries becomes plausible.' He preservers through the hellish landscape utilizing stealth to progress past the towering structures around him, 'The aftermath resembles an act of panic and desperation, rather than a demonstration of skill, or power.'
'Despite the Anbu being 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. The fugitive navigates around the bone spikes, impaling the abominations while avoiding 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; thus, the electrocardiogram-like apparatus, indicating Jim's chakra reserves, shifts from danger to caution. After estimating the enemy combatant's general location, he creates two smokeless shadow clones.
"Alright, get out there… You know what to do," Jim's shadow clones 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 condenser. Jim pulls another storage scroll from his inventory; the war criminal's hands shake as he stares at the scroll, 'Come on, Jimi. You can do this! Just focus, remain calm, and move slowly.' He adjusts the analog designator, then applies his chakra, "Gulp—I despise these heinous hemorrhoid hitmen."
Dry blood on the storage unit causes an error in the designator's coordinates; the smoke appears premature. Jim's jaw drops as a monotone groan emanates from within the smoke. His Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder resurfaces, triggering a flashback that causes him to relive a frightful moment.
FLASHBACK NO-JUTSU
Jim recalls stumbling upon a horrific aberrant of Earth-Style Ultimate Revival Jutsu. He's uncertain how these creatures can access his inert bloodline limit or why Shinobi call them "ReDeads," yet when applying genjutsu, these affronts to propriety are like invisible landmines shuffling around or waiting for the unwary to cross their path. A piercing chill slithers 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 from where its creepy human-like teeth are visible. Much to Jim's dismay, he's in grabbing distance of the deformed mud-golem. The Contra 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 will unleash a Paralyzing Shriek before slamming its genitalless nether regions into Jim's face bowlegged, bearing no remorse, mercy, or shame. After composing himself, he eases 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, he isn't sure who or what deserves which label.
Jim can almost hear the drumbeat and whistle from that Clint Eastwood movie but notices his heart pounding as refrigerant leaks from an adjacent condensing unit. 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 condenser suppresses its zombie-like groan, thus not attracting unwelcome attention if the worst happens. He channels his chakra and inhales the last of his mixed herb cigar.
"Shadow-Clone-Jutsu!" 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 him with its bony fingers. Before the ReDead can unleash a Paralyzing Shriek, another smokeless shadow clone appears, encompassing and sealing the ReDead within its body. Jim's doppelganger convulses on the ground, thrashing around, struggling to gain control over the ReDead. The shadow clone's eyes glow and flicker before settling to Jim's familiar gilded irises, a sign the duplicate is in total control.
Jim sighs in relief before helping his shadow clone to its feet. He runs a diagnosis over the doppelganger to confirm everything regarding its limbs, central nervous system, and Chakra Network (Chakra Pathway System/Keirakukei) is functional. After a few questions regarding mobility and a quick Field Strip of the SCR (Shadow Clone Rifle), Jim determines both 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 Red Zetsu's bloody flesh squelches against the surface as they scale the skyscraper.
As the flesh-eating ghouls climb the walls after them, the shadow clone deadpans, "Oh boy—here we go again!"
"Lose as many Red Zetsus as possible before reaching the objective. I need them after me for this to work!" Jim realizes the replicate is already gone. He rolls his eyes but follows suit, albeit at a slower rate. The war criminal bolts across the rooftops before leaping from a mutant's head; he flies through the air and lands on the next building.
The cannibalistic fiends tear across the rooftops after him, starving for the last bit of human flesh they can find. Jim gauges the Red Zetsu'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, sprinting down the windowpanes as more misshapen hands and inhuman extremities breach the glass, trying to rip him to pieces.
The mutant hordes, resembling a roaring torrent of greased lightning, slip and slide from the buildings like stale oily meat, 'Regardless of distance or location, Red Zetsu seems to detect uncontaminated organisms not using any Chakra Suppression Techniques; if I'm lucky, maybe I'll have a few minutes rest before those things find me again.' Jim weaves in and out of the alleyways and avenues, bottlenecking the hordes between the skyscrapers within the narrow pathways. The zombie-like creatures leap off and around the ruins, tripping over themselves as they round the corners.
The boundless hordes almost parallel a long snake growing ever larger as mutants accumulate from all around, yet thins as it congests the streets and funnels across the immense towering structures. Jim synchronizes a string of hand seals in a full sprint, creating stone obstructions that narrow his trail and diminish the overwhelming hordes into a thin trickle. Jim's manipulation of Earth and Lightning Release delay the abominations rather than halt them outright; however, his destination is within eyesight. He approaches The Gates of Fort Firestorm with a feverish pace.