towerofanimus

Current Mood: devious
Current Location: Floor Thirty

Entry tags:

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Characters: Gaara (

fifth_kazekage), random monsters, and anyone else that comes up.
Setting: Floor Thirty
Time: Night
Format: Prose/Action
Summary: While going monster-hunting, things get a little out of hand after Gaara falls into a trap.
Warnings: Violence, blood, insanity. (Will add more if needed.)

Since his arrival, Gaara had spent most of his time exploring the tower. As soon as he discovered the garden on the twenty-ninth floor, he ground up the earth and added more sand to fortify his gourd. It had been reduced in size to fit inside the trunk, he deducted logically. He knew monsters frequented the floors at night, and the higher the floor, the greater the danger. He had encountered a few different types, none of them posing a significant threat for him. But now, he was willingly stepping into their lair, seeking an outlet for the stress that continuously plagued his mind ever since he learned the truth about his existence.

On one of the floors, a haunting whisper had called out to him, a voice that immediately threw his mind into shock. Logic was pushed aside as Gaara felt compelled to draw closer to the source, needing to see the speaker with his own eyes. He had carelessly dismissed the pool of blood on the floor, and by the time he felt the sudden resistance, he was already being pulled down into it. The rotting hand closed around his body and dragged him in with swift intent before he could make his escape.

Darkness surrounded him completely, suffocating in its intensity.

When Gaara finally regained awareness, he was in a different setting, maybe even a different floor. The second thing he noticed was the overwhelming odor of blood that flooded his senses. Slowly, he rose to his feet, feeling wet and unusually heavy as light dripping noises flowed into his ears.

Blood…

He was drowning in the thick, coppery crimson liquid, his dazed mind unable to concentrate with his primal instincts rapidly roaring to life. He looked down at his hands with confusion on his face, surprised to see his pale skin stained dark red. It had been so, so very long since he was completely drenched in blood like this. Soaked to the point where all he could feel, taste, and smell, was the distinct scent of iron. Dizzily, he lifted one hand to press against his forehead, just as a sharp throbbing sensation struck his nerves. Dormant urges were rushing up to the surface, trying to convince him to stop holding back so he could be free of mental pain and distress.

Why had he restrained himself all this time? Gaara had to consciously regain focus to remember the reason. There weren’t any monsters to exterminate in Suna, and only the F3 locations had those dangerous creatures. Otherwise, he had been mostly surrounded by humans, whom he couldn’t harm. Wasn’t allowed to harm, because they were so fragile and defenseless that the slightest pressure would crush them within his sand.

Humans…

Shrill shrieks suddenly echoed from the far corner of the room, deeply shrouded in shadows. Gaara felt the earth vibrate underneath his feet, and quickly realized that there were a number of monsters nearby. The floor thudded and screeched with their hasty steps as they rushed toward him, eager to claim a sole helpless victim.

They’re comin’ to get you, brat, Shukaku quipped gleefully inside his mind.

Did the tailed beast really expect him to react to that knowledge with fear? Gaara tipped his head back as he felt a burst of laughter unexpectedly erupt from deep in his throat. It was a laugh that lacked any hint of humor, the distorted sound resonating with underlying insanity.

“Like careless wanderers to quicksand…” the blood-soaked ninja mumbled in reply after straightening up, a cruel smirk slowly curling his lips. Like hell he would show any mercy to these pitiful sacks of meat. They wanted to murder him, like it had always been throughout his life… No matter where he was, no matter what he did, there would be people that wanted him dead.

And just like before, he wasn’t going to let them erase his existence.

Without hesitation, sand abruptly shot out of his gourd, more than ready to challenge the onslaught approaching him. At this point, Gaara didn’t even care to distinguish between friend and foe.

He just wanted to kill.

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Asakim had been watching, keeping a relative safe distance. The monsters dared not attack him, at least those drenched in darkness. There was no point, as he was seen as kin to them. Both were beings of the darkness, with the only difference being that Asakim was immortal, unable to die. Even so, he wasn't going to throw himself into danger so uselessly.

At least not yet. The one known as Gaara intrigued him so, and he desired to see what else this man could do. There was far too much potential for this young man, a similar energy to Volkruss being felt inside of him. Not strong enough, not nearly enough to rival that of a true guardian spirit like Cyfis. Still, it was a possibility.

Just how far would Gaara take his rage however?

Since the other didn’t have a chakra signature, Gaara didn’t sense his presence. The room was dark; fitting, considering the holy attribute associated with light. He could feel footsteps walking over the earth and every movement that tousled his sand, but his perception wasn’t particularly sharp at this moment. It didn’t need to be. All he had to know was the group of monsters coming toward him. He wondered if any of them would be an actual challenge.

A deformed figure rushed at him – from the rotting odor, possibly a zombie – and the ninja flicked his wrist forward, sending a blade of hardened sand to cut its head off. Apparently, it wasn’t alone, and the rest of its brethren staggered forward, arms outstretched to try and grab him. Casting the lot a disinterested look, Gaara shoved them down with a small wave that crashed through the crowd, cascading across the floor.

He felt a twinge of surprise when they stood back up after a few minutes, and then he remembered. In Death City, the zombies had to be killed with fire, or torn into pieces. Maybe these zombies had to be killed in similar ways.

He had no qualms with indulging that requirement. Sand shot up from the floor and entered their bodies in the exposed orifices. Upon reaching the center, the zombies suddenly exploded outward from the pressure inside, sending body parts flying all around the room.

Definitely interesting. He reminded Asakim of another individual, one who could bend the wind and sand in a special manner. Or rather, it was a machine, one nearly equal to Cybuster's element, but could never hope to beat. Still, the sand manipulation was greater, but the boy could never hope to match the power of a Masoukishin unit, not like that at least.

It didn't take long for some of those zombies to come Asakim's way. Eyes still trained on Gaara, a quick flash appeared before Asakim, the crimson sword Discalibur slicing the creatures before him. They were still alive, yes, but hardly even a threat. He just didn't want the show interrupted.

“......”

There was a sudden change in the environment. Weight had lifted from the earth’s pressure without explanation. His sand was scattered all over the floor to sense the creatures that were coming toward him, from the various directions.

Whoever – or whatever – was over there, it wasn’t attacking him. Monsters could be intelligent, so he didn’t discount that possibility. Still, it went against his intuition and training to willingly remain in ignorance.

The sand closest to that individual began to crawl forward, lifting from the ground for an inspection. It wasn’t prudent to use his Third Eye in this setting, but he had other ways of navigating through the dark.

"Oh? I've been found out already?"

Asakim stared at the sand strangely, poking it with Discalibur. He knew better than to do this, but he always liked taking risks that would no doubt make him into puddy. He was immortal, so risks could be taken, even from such a being as himself.

When poked at, the sand dispersed, creating a hole where the tip of the sword had tried to penetrate. It gathered together again and continued to move forward, heading for the sword.

Curious…

He had heard some words being spoken, but he couldn’t decipher them clearly, what with all the other noise around. This person or thing seemed to be fighting against the monsters rather than alongside them. Not that it would automatically qualify them as an ally.

Leaving behind fallen carnage, the ninja teleported closer to that area, staying hidden within the shadows. He didn’t get too close, lest he give an advantage to a possible enemy.

It took her a look time to find out where he was. It took her even longer, when there was monsters, and a long winding hallway, that led to god knows where. She just followed the sand, in hopes that it would actually guide her to the right place. He may have been upset, but she didn't think violence should have been the resolve he came up with.

Still, there were things about Gaara that she didn't know about, and it clearly made her worry about him just for those reasons. Ishtar rounded another corner, hearing the shrieking sound. She followed the noise, keeping Sidia drawn. She had to hack a couple of them without much remorse. She wasn't impatient, but she couldn't let herself be killed before she found who she was looking for. It was strange, how she could easily do this now, seeing she could have never done this before.

She felt no thrill to it, no enjoyment. It was empty, and cold, just as she always knew. She wasn't a killer, and she did only to protect herself and the people close to her. Another spell, as she stopped one from getting behind her.

She was trying to scope out the red head when she got closer, hoping that she could spot him. His hair wasn't something that was common, and in her world, red hair meant they were from the Mer tribe, water monsters, but Gaara was not one of them. Illsaide was, and it reminded her how she hadn't spoken to her half cousin in a long time. He wasn't much of a speak.

Still, this wasn't the time to think about things like that. She had a teenage boy to find.

"GAARAAAAAAA!"

He could feel Ishtar coming closer and closer to the room, from the sand that was guiding her to his location. It had activated on a few occasions, protecting her from getting hurt by the monsters she encountered on the way up. Gaara frowned, wondering if it had been a mistake to give her the sand anklet.

He heard her call, of course. He’d have to be deaf not to. And like always, she was rushing straight into the lion’s den with no regard for her own safety. A lamb to the slaughter.

He didn’t regret being told the truth by Ishtar about who they were, what they were. It was a lot better coming from her than anyone else, because he plain wouldn’t have trusted any of them. No, what made him angry was the truth itself. He hadn’t been prepared to face this kind of reality. How could they have managed to transplant so many memories into mere clones? Memories that felt real, as if they had really happened to them. To know that everything he knew was a lie, even after being lied to in the past… it was too overwhelming for his brain to absorb.

In spite of being a ninja, Gaara hated lies, hated hurtful deception. He vividly remembered everything that his – no, not his, but his original’s – uncle had done to him, completely shattering his trust in others and impeding his ability to reach out. His father, who had weaved such an intricate web of deceit that for years, Gaara wanted nothing more than to kill his own family. The only ambiguity lied in his mother, how she had really felt toward him, and they took that away from him too, on the same night of the cruel revelations. While crying, he had wondered, what was he?

Ten years later, he still didn’t know the answer to that question.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling his body hot with rage. Ishtar would arrive soon. He was going to extract her from the carnage. She didn’t violence, and he knew that. It was idiotic of her to come up to these dangerous floors after he had warned people to stay away.

“Leave, Ishtar,” was his response when she entered the room, “This is no place for you.”

Ishtar wasn't sure if it was a mistake or not, but she learned to use her resources, and it helped a lot when it came to looking for people. Gaara might have surprised her, by hiding it in there, but she was thankful for it just because it protected her, and it guided her when she needed the help from it. The sand was a unique little thing that she wouldn't throw away ever.

At least, until Gaara took that away from her, in which she hoped he would take it away. She liked it and having it as backup like a ruelle was great. She got used to it activating on strange occasions where she almost got hurt, and how it would always loyally protect her when she needed it to. Ishtar rolled around another corner, calling again for the teen, in hopes if finding the ninja. Ishtar didn't like to lie to him, and because he told her before, she wasn't going to let him feel the way he did back home. Well, she'll try her best. She couldn't make faulty promises.

She still would protect him if anything.

There was no way he was going to make her leave that easily. She wasn't prepared to leave until she could get through to him. It was a crazy idea, and she would probably be injured in the process, but she was still going to do it. Ishtar was not backing down because someone told her too, even if it that was Gaara who was telling her to leave. She stopped short of breath when she finally found him. She was stubborn in many ways, and those ways became worse since she had been at Facility.

"I'm not leaving," she started, catching her breath, "because, I'm pretty sure you're upset," she paused glancing at the mess around him, "and apparently you still are," she glanced at him, serious.

"Is that important right now? It doesn't matter if it isn't a place for me. I'm here now."

One of the monsters screeched and flung something at Ishtar, which activated the shield again. It rose from her anklet and protected her from getting hit. She would need all of her defenses to survive in this room for long. The amount of monsters spawning seemed endless, which wasn't an issue for the bloodthirsty ninja, but Ishtar was very different from him.

"This," he started to spit out while gritting his teeth as the anger resurfaced in a tumultuous wave, "isn't your problem to deal with."

A zombie suddenly exploded from a short distance to his side. Another sphere-shaped monster fell to the floor, the body cut in half with its innards spilling out. He was discovering more and more creative ways to exterminate the monsters. They couldn't die by conventional means because they weren't humans. It was almost like a game, figuring out their weaknesses. Only, he couldn't lose this game, and he wouldn't let himself.

"So get out."

A wave of sand rushed up from the ground and shot right toward Ishtar, trying to push her back to the door. Gaara had plenty of chakra, and could stay in this room for hours before he got tired. Hopefully, that would be enough time to satiate his rage. If not, then he would just need to find creatures that actually presented a challenge.

Ishtar watched as the sand saved her from an attack, but the next one was pretty obvious as she slashed it quickly away. That shield wouldn't protect her forever, and sure it was pretty dangerous here, but who was he to tell her what to do. It may not be her problem, but she was getting involved. Gaara was like a brother to her, and there was no way in hell she was going to abandon him that easily. Ishtar just gave him a look for that.

"So what if it isn't? You know how I am, Gaara. It won't change anything," she mused looking at him with her eyes.

She watched the zombie explode briefly. She didn't flinch. She had seen so much blood and carnage, that it hardly bothered her anymore. It was Gaara that she was more concerned with.

"Are you going to hurt me too, if I don't leave?" she mused as she slashed one of the nearby small monsters. They weren't recognizable, but she hardly bothered to look at it. She brought up Sidia briefly to block the sand shooting at her. At least, she could admit that Sebastian did a good job messing her up. Her movements weren't so flimsy anymore, but she was still no match for someone of Gaara's caliber.

"Is that a yes?"

He couldn’t see her through the darkness. He could sense her, and only because his sand was attached to her ankle. Though, he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was getting a little exasperated with him. Gaara didn’t like causing her distress, and hearing the concern in her words, almost made him hesitate. Until he remembered where he was, and the reason why he was here. It would be easy to go back and pretend like everything was normal, but that would be… fake. Hadn’t he just spent the last year living a lie, blissfully ignorant? Did he want to continue doing that, or…

“Stubborn as hell?” The redhead quipped dryly as a shriek caught his attention from behind, prompting his sand to attack the corresponding monster.

“I’m not who you think I am, Ishtar. So don’t-”

Shadowy mists gathered in the corners of the room, suddenly calling out to both of them. They were hearing voices from the past, of dead people that they knew. Gaara flinched, his body going rigid when his uncle started speaking to him again, bringing back too many unwanted memories to an already-fragile mind. His sand reacted violently, heading straight for the source to silence it.

She could hardly feel him in the darkness either. Ishtar wasn't a vampire or anything, so she wouldn't be able to see in the dark like vampires would. She was kind of ticked that it was so damn dark here. The girl closed her eyes as she listened to his words.

"That's me, Gaara, the one and only," she replied, maybe half smirking at that. Ishtar didn't mind being called names anymore. She had an impression on people, and she liked to keep it that way. Ishtar shrugged, as she turned to shoot another one away with a zapping spell. There were way too many, and she wasn't sure how long she could keep this up. She wasn't like Gaara, or Duzell....even others who had better combat abilities than her.

"Then I'm no different right? I'm not who you think I am either," she retorted back without much remorse. She didn't care about being a clone anymore. She didn't care about the fact that she was a fake. She'll make a name for herself, whether she was really Ishtar or not. She was Ishtar right now, that's all that mattered. Ishtar put her hands over ears, not wanting to hear the voices that were emanating from the monsters.

She was far beyond annoyed with them, and hearing voices like, Lassen penetrate her mind, got her more agitated.

"What is this?!"

Maybe it had been a mistake to warn people. Maybe he should have come up the tower without telling anyone, and just-

No. They deserved some kind of warning. They probably already knew how dangerous it was, but they wouldn’t count on an additional enemy. One that was just as, if not more, deadly than the monsters.

Even with all of the noise and activity around them, they were still able to carry on this conversation. He declared in a tone that sounded like his usual quiet strength, “I don’t care that you are a clone. I still consider you to be my friend. You are…”

It wasn’t just one voice that called to him; he grimaced and lowered his head, trying to block out the unwanted noise.

“Shut up…”

A few violent lashes later, one of the voices stopped talking, but there were still others that came from the shadows. His sand started to behave more violently, thrashing around to attack anyone in the general area – enemy and friend alike.

Ishtar was trying to make the best of what was reality and what was fake. She shouldn't have come here, but she couldn't help it. He was someone important to her, and she wasn't prepared to let him just take things on his own. She couldn't simply abandon him, the way he wanted her to.

She lashed at the sounds, trying to get her mind together, but too late, Gaara's sand was already lashing. She could dodge it, if barely, but at the same time she would have to use the spells to keep her ass him being injured. She knew how he felt about injuring people close to him. She didn't want to cause him more pain or sorrow.

He wanted the voices to stop talking; if he could, he would shove a cork down their throats and watch them suffocate to death. He didn’t care to differentiate between friend and foe, in this moment. The tailed beast circled around inside his head, coaxing the young host to eliminate everyone that stood in his way. That included Ishtar. It was her fault for coming up here in the first place, and running straight into the fire. Why did she do something so stupid? Because she cared about him? She had to be lying. No one cared about him.

The sand around her ankle started tugging away, trying to draw the princess toward the exit. It was for her own safety, since it had been commanded by Gaara to protect her. Despite those efforts, other whips of sand swung in her direction, flying with enough force to throw her into a wall, if the hit connected.

The first thing they had to do was get rid of the voices. The voices made it difficult for her to decipher where they were coming from. Ishtar did her best to defend herself, while the small sliver of sand that was given to her, guarded her back. Of course, they weren't penetrable defenses, so eventually she was sent to the wall with a loud thud. It wasn't a soft thud either. It was enough to cause her body to be bit paralyzed with pain for a while, until she realized what happened.

Gaara didn't know Ishtar as well as he thought he did, if he even thought that she didn't give a rats ass about him. If she didn't care, she wouldn't have walked all the way here to try to stop him.

"Ouch," she murmured, rubbing her butt as she slid back down, but seriously, this was hardly anything compared to the shit she had been through. She casually got back up while rubbing her shoulders a little. God dammit it all.

Edited 2012-07-24 19:30 (UTC)

Most of the monsters were relentless, hurling projectiles at her back or trying to slash the girl. The shield was active in protecting her, its task of dragging her away abandoned for the time being. There was hardly time to do anything else other than block the incoming barrage of attacks.

He wasn’t thinking with his usual intellect at the moment. Running on pure instincts and negative emotions made him behave irrationally. As far as he could remember, he hadn’t shown this side of himself to Ishtar before. He wouldn’t blame her for feeling disgusted with him for it. She hadn’t even seen the worst of how he could be.

His head whipped to the side when he heard the loud thud. A frown creased his brows as he silently executed a command to his sand that was closest to her position. A long tendril curled around her leg-

-and lifted the girl up into the air, immediately slithering toward the door.

She was holding her ground pretty well, slashing up a few, and sending others flying. She wasn't too excited for all the blood and gore, but she did a fair number to protect her own ass. She wasn't going to complain if she did get hurt though. She was someone who was used to getting into dangerous situations and getting injuries.

If she was disgusted with him, then she would have been disgusted with everyone else that had the same mentality as him. Gaara wasn't going to get rid of her that easily. No matter what he did right now, she wouldn't hold it against him, and she hoped that he would at least understand that part of her. She wasn't judgmental when it came to he friends. She had forgiven people who have done things far worse than Gaara.

Ishtar let out a small yelpy as she was being dragged towards the door in mid air.

"This isn't fair!" she whipped her head around to slash at the sand, even though it was probably useless, "Gaara!"

A wicked grin curled his lips when he felt her slashing at his sand, which just dispersed wherever she tried to stab, and reformed afterward. He was glad she put up a fight, instead of just sitting back and taking his abuse. Maybe she wasn’t as helpless as he remembered. She would have been nothing more than a mindless pawn if she didn’t dare to challenge him. Real friends, he had come to realize, weren’t afraid of confronting one another. They had respect for each other, and felt enough responsibility to take on the burden of the one being led astray.

It had been a mistake to let their friendship grow, he decided. He was going to become less guarded around her, more comfortable, and then when that happened, she would just be ripped away from him. That had happened to him and Sai. Memories flooded his mind in a fierce torrent. No longer would he feel strong arms curled around his form when he had instances of mental instability. His cheeks would remain cold, his lips taut from deprivation of silken contact. He closed his eyes, and grasped for the soothing image of the sweetly sincere smile that flooded his chest with warmth whenever he could catch sight of it. Sai had never believed him, damn it. Didn’t think he was really important enough to affect the redhead after he disappeared and left him behind. He was wrong, the stupid idiot-!

As if sensing his raw moment, a voice suddenly beckoned to him from the shadows, ”Gaara-sama…”

His hand froze with indecision, and then he forced his attention on killing the monsters that suddenly invaded his personal space. He felt angry, so angry, that once again, happiness had been brief before shocking him with loss and desolation. For the longest time, Gaara tried to convince himself that he could live with contentment. Monsters didn’t deserve happiness, and his smiles were as infrequent as a flash of thunder. Buried underneath that surface layer of fury was grief, the same way he had felt on that cold and lonely night as a child, sobbing into his own arms after Yashamaru killed himself. Gaara never did learn how to grieve properly, in spite of everything that had happened in his life.

The tendril continued to drag her away. In response to her continued defiance, his sand rushed up and smacked the princess right across her face, trying to disorient her. The hit was rough and hard enough to cut into her cheek. He wasn’t playing around; at least, not with Ishtar. If she didn’t believe he could be a monster, then she was deluding herself.

“I never promised that.”

After he finished uttering those words, his sand threw her out of the level and toward the staircase. If she didn’t catch her balance, she would get battered and bruised from crashing down so many floors.

"GOD DAMMIT GAARA!" Ishtar shouted angrily as she slashed again at the sand. That was mighty useless. She still didn't stop. She struggled, and struggled until something could be done. She wasn't going to sit around and let him do this. She wasn't going to allow Gaara to just distance himself because he was upset. She wanted to help him, knowing that he wasn't exactly the most stable person alive and he had his own problems to deal with. She knew he was upset, and she knew there were things that she couldn't do to help him, but it was worth trying at least. She wanted to prove to him that she wasn't there just to be there, and that she wasn't going to vanish into thing air.

"GAARA!!!!!" she swung again, though failed miserably at doing much to the damn sand. She hated that she was useless and defenseless with his sand. Why the hell did he have it anyway? It was a great ability to have, but it was annoying when she was on the receiving end of it. She was aware that he wasn't playing around with what he told her, but he shouldn't have been this hard on himself. Why did he refuse to accept help when it was offered to him? It wasn't like she wanted him to suffer. She narrowed her eyes even more as she struggled with the sand, only to be smacked in the face with some of it. It drew blood from her cheek, a small sliver of blood.

She didn't bother to touch it or wipe it off her face, "I don't care! Let me down Gaara! Why are you doing this to me?! Why won't you let me help you, dammit?!" she shouted...and eventually she was flung out towards the level of stairs. She quickly chanted a spell to cushion her fall, and it somehow managed to get her at the right moment with a small amount of plain erupting from her head as she collided with the wall. At least, she landed on her feet and not her face. She wasn't going to approach him right now. He was indeed pissed without wanting to listen to anyone. It was fine, she'll let him have his quiet time, but she was going to approach him afterwards.

"........Ugh.." this was becoming more problematic than she had originally though. Maybe, she shouldn't have told him about all of this. He took it hard and now he was taking it out on everything else. At least they weren't human....but they were still living things. It wasn't like she approved of it.

The tower provided all kinds of amusements for Sasori, some of them a little too troublesome, and though he had tried to avoid the few that decided not to leave him alone, he ended up having to fight off a few monsters in the end. The awful screeching on this floor, however, made him wince. It was not that it frightened him; the puppet master was no stranger to the screams of dying shinobi. He had once turned the golden sands of Sunagakure red with the blood of his enemy, made it rain guts and left the desert echoing with the screams and dying gasps of those he had slain. Hence no, he winced not out of fear. He winced because it was all too shrill, and he'd heard enough of it for one day.

This was not new, and it was far from amusing. He was content to move on and keep exploring, yet-- something in there caught his eye. Something like... Sand?

Before he knew it, that door was closing behind him, ever so slowly, as quiet as a shadow that leaped from wall to wall. He didn't even remember setting foot inside the room, and Sasori glanced to his side, chakra strings tugging at it to try and keep it open.

The door had tried shutting on him and yet he didn't leave.

He wanted to stick around and find out what the Fifth could do.

Why the door had closed, Gaara didn’t care. He would leave the room when he was good and ready. Even with the exit supposedly lost, that apparently didn’t stop the monsters from spawning, over and over. They didn’t usually attack him with this much aggression. Was it something about this floor in particular, or was he different somehow?

It didn’t take long for rotting corpses and severed limbs to scatter all around him. He paused at one brief moment of silence and laughed harshly, but out of pure irony than any inkling of humor. This was all too much like his childhood, with the assassins that his father… No, not his father. Not his father. Wasn’t that a positive aspect amidst this whole mess? It wasn’t like he actually wanted to be related to that man…

More unpleasant thoughts that he wanted to banish from his mind. He shook his head violently, as if trying to toss them out that way.

His sand didn’t slow down a single beat, even during this short distraction. It was adamantly following his commands: kill on contact. Some of the monsters had imploded within his sand, but after he caught a whiff of the stench of rotting corpses, he switched tactics. Blood was one thing; he wasn’t interested in body parts that oozed of monster innards.

There was a new stranger in the room, his sand discovered, as it slithered over to the door. It started crawling up an unusually smooth surface, trying to figure out what this creature was. Interestingly enough, it was just standing back instead of attacking him. Maybe it was smarter than the other monsters, and wanted to wait to realize a weakness?

Sasori noticed the sand right away, and had watched during the creature massacre how it moved, almost as if it had a mind of its own when it came to defense. It seemed so very similar to what the jinchuuriki of the Ichibi used to show. Sasori had been in Suna when the Ichibi was sealed into one of its villagers, an uncontrollable mass of energy sealed within a miserable human being who had no way of controlling it while the demon resided within them. The Third had studied this jinchuuriki carefully and developed his own magnetic release.

If anything, it had benefited the Third, and in turn, benefited the village, especially during the third ninja war. Actually, the war was still waging on, if Sasori remembered correctly. He had left in the middle of it, deserted his people in their most crucial time of need, and had taken the Third with him. What was loyalty? What were comrades? Really, Sasori hadn't even thought about how his actions would make Sunagakure vulnerable during the war, but who was he to care?

Sasori made no inclination to attack at the moment, opting to stay out of this if possible. He only wanted to watch, because this was far more interesting now that he had figured what the source of the other's power was. Even more interesting was how the Fifth seemed to be rather in control of it for most of the time.

Nimble fingers stroked the fur on the cloak of the Third...

It was dark, and he couldn’t see with his eyes, but that didn’t mean he was completely blind. His sand continued to travel up what felt like a wooden pole. Now, that was an odd texture for a monster. He was used to feel their flesh exploding from the pressure in his sand. This was a harder, more durable surface.

Wood…

He could feel a faint chakra signature emanating from that side of the room. As far as he knew, there was only one other shinobi from the same world as him. His mind made a quick hypothesis, although he wasn’t sure why, if it was Sasori, he would just be standing there passively. Unless his intention was to gather intel on him. The Sasori from this time point didn’t know who Gaara was – he hadn’t even been born yet. Maybe he was curious. It was a little too early to be plotting his assassination, after all.

His sand curled around what the redhead assumed was the other’s leg, to get his attention and let him know that his presence wasn’t a secret.

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