(log) → naru/gaa → "IT'S CENA BATTLE TAIMU" part 002

[redwhite_impact]

WHO? Uzumaki Naruto (redwhite-impact) and Gaara (love_akane).
WHAT? Naruto's been acting as a Lookout in a store that sits over an entrance to the Underground. Gaara has bad(?) timing.
WHERE? Lucky Star Convenience Store in Cena.
WHEN? August 6, 1800 HOURS.
WARNINGS? Violence, cussing, cross-dressing, boy-kissing. :/

Go to Part 1.

They walked forward, one seeming nervous and offset by the silence and the terse atmosphere - it was obvious that he must've been part of a more recent shipment. The other two were numb to the volatile reactions of the people they claimed to want to help by way of violent quarantine, and kept their expressions professional and authoritative. Naruto schooled his face into blankness; Rolitz had already somewhat retreated into the shadows, and Eiri was keeping her face downturned so that the officers would not be prone to notice her shaking wrists.

"All well here?" one of the older officers questioned, stiffly.

"...of course," Nonipara said after a moment. (He resumed his character with only a brief pause in which to do so, regaining her nonchalance and her lilted speech.) "Welcome to Lucky Star Grocery; how may I help you?"

His hand on Gaara's leg was not exactly on-board with the rest of him. It was twisted tight into the fabric of his pants.

There was no need to sit down, after all. Still, Naruto stood a little too close for Gaara's comfort, but the new occupants of the room distracted him enough to half-way ignore it.

Arma.

There were three of them, their stoic, machine-like natures causing the hairs on the back of his head to stand on end. The predator inside him instantly analyzed their postures, their movements - picking out the weakest among them in a matter of moments.

He fought hard not to growl - really, he did -, but the low rumble which tore from his throat could not be helped.

Naruto was in front of him, blocking most of his view, but the insomniac tilted his head to the right so he could see through the haze of violet hair. That one - that weak one - seemed more distracted than the others, and Gaara had to clench his fist to keep from lunging forward and gutting the man then and there.

He had come to Cena to kill. Deprivation of such an instinct could not end well, when an easy target was practically screaming for his death. Briefly, the red-head wondered if this officer was taunting him - if the government itself was mocking his very existence by dangling such choice prey right in front of his eyes, yet keeping it just out of reach.

Oh, that would not do.

He made as if to step forward, but the blonde's grip on his leg stopped him. Ah, that's right. Naruto. Shooting the stubborn boy a seething glare, the red-head gripped the other's wrist and dug his nails into Naruto's flesh, trying to pry his fingers away from his leg.

It was enough movement to draw the attention of the more finicky guard. (Mousy, Naruto was tempted to call him, but a lot more like a rabbit than a mouse, right?) He blinked at Gaara for a moment, even as Naruto tried to shoulder over to block him from view, and a few lethal words spilled from between the soldier's lips.

"Hey- Hey, you're-"

The other two noticed and the one went for his radio.

Naruto's hands were faster.

With a movement like twitching his hand slammed into a button below the cash register and not only the store but the entire avenue lit up like a tinderbox: red lights streamed down from rooftops; streetlights that were supposedly out lit up brightly; all the lights within the store itself lit up red and Naruto's voice, bellowing and ringing through the streets, was the starting point of everything:

"ARMA!"

Chaos errupted - the soldiers seemed to move ten times slower than everything around him. Not three seconds passed after Naruto's warning shout that three customers smashed through the store's front windows and took off running. A few others herded through the doors - one hoisted himself up a lampost and up the side of a building. A young, cynical-looking couple bolted down an alley. A group ripped up a manhole cover and leapt for the safety of the sewers.

Naruto busied himself elsewise.

The youngest soldier took off after the customers at last but couldn't seem to decide which way to turn to run after them - they were too fast and outran him easily. The other two were more experienced with this sort of thing. Nonipara was the firestarter and the target and not a moment passed following his release of the button that they were not after him.

He tore his fingers from Gaara's leg and instead opted to rip the door that closed him into the cashier's station from it's place; the joints of his wrists protested loudly to it's weight and the resistance it gave him, but he removed it forcibly, ripping it away from it's hinges. The larger officer went to draw his gun and Naruto found himself smashing the door against his chest.

The soldier flew backwards and collided with one of the racks.

Gaara flinched back at the unexpected brightness. Red surrounded everything, and after he took a split-second to adjust, he realized that this glaring testament to the Red District was oddly... beautiful. Dark crimson stained every crevice, every shadow. The very air glowed with the hum and thrum of a red so bright, it nearly hurt to look at. It was blood. Everything around him was dripping blood... and he liked it.

Settling into a defensive stance, the red-head slid his hand into his pocket and flicked out the knife he had stored within. Knives, it was said, were nothing compared to guns. People were weak when faced with bullets.

Gaara would happily disagree.

Naruto abandoned all pretenses as soon as the threat had been made known, and Gaara took advantage of this. His prey had run away already - he'd have to hunt him down, later -, but right now there was a choice victim standing not but a few yards away, just begging to be killed.

That voice which was so ever present in the back or his mind now found pleasure in beating mercilessly against his skull. 'Kill, kill, kill,' it screamed, driving the insomniac into a frenzy. He growled viciously, all masks of humanity falling away from his face in an instant. It was all instinct now. All bloody, beastly instinct.

That spark of insanity that always seemed to shine within the depths of his eyes had intensified ten-fold. It was no longer a spark - it was a flame; thrashing, violent, unwavering in its unmarked hatred.

He hunched forward slightly, crouching down a bit, then pushed off of his right leg and surged forward towards the last Arma standing. The man's hand was already on his gun, the finger hooked around the trigger, but he was simply too slow. Gaara was before him in and instant, right foot one step beyond the officer's body, his left hand wrapped neatly around the other's throat, right hand gripped tightly against the wrist that held the gun.

A crack went off, but Gaara had forced his arm upwards just in time, bringing the officer's arm with him. The bullet shot harmlessly at the ceiling.

Naruto went somersaulting over the counter to miss it nonetheless, the door landing in a clatter behind him.

The other officer was up and on him in seconds; they grappled for a moment, and his hair snagged, painfully, against the man's knuckle. He grunted and the officer yanked forward, as if trying to remove his head. Naruto kicked him hard in the stomach and ripped himself back.

The officer got the wig.

Naruto got a headache.

"What are you, some cheap trannie or something?"

"Close," Naruto said lightly. "But no. Good try."

He needed a weapon of some sort but, of course, all he had was his own limbs.

Well, he'd have to be certain not to use them.

Eiri took the opportunity to bolt from her station; the officer caught her movement and aimed his gun. Naruto sprung at him, grappling him again. More shots were fired into the ceiling and powdered bits of splintered tile rained down on them. Naruto missed a shot at his leg and skidded backwards, out of range.

Like in most fights, the volume seemed to intensify over time. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through one's veins, making them hear more acutely? It might have been the fact that shouts and gunshots became more frequent the more one realized their life might very well be at stake.

It was a nuisance, any way you looked at it.

The man currently in his grasp started fidgeting - lack of oxygen tended to do that to people -, his free hand wrapping around Gaara's wrist and digging harshly into the skin. The insomniac was used to pain, though, and didn't give this new development a second thought.

Slitting his eyes, the red-head used his extra step to his advantage. Hooking his heel behind the Arma's calf, he jerked his foot towards him while pushing back with the hand currently wrapped around the other's throat. They both went down, Gaara on top, his knee pressing into the other's chest, cutting off as much air as was possible.

It was strangulation, pure and simple. The man's eyes were wide in fright - he had just realized how sadistic the man atop him could be -, and he began scrambling frantically for any kind of hold. Something to get him away, to give him just one more breath.

Bad thing about this position was... Gaara was horribly vulnerable to an outside attack. His mind wasn't processing the consequences, though. Only that he had a life there, gripped between his hands, and he had the power to take that life away.

This was, of course, the moment that the rabbit soldier decided to come back.

Naruto didn't actually see him coming until all of the sudden his chosen opponent had unanticipated back up; Rabbit had come in through the shattered window and up the aisle Naruto's cashier station was in front of. Feeling a little cornered (primarily because he was, indeed, cornered) Naruto sprang backwards onto the cash register, rolling halfway off the counter before the large soldier grabbed him by the ankle and aimed that god-awful gun at his chest. Naruto delivered a faithfully quick kick up and then slammed his heel into the front end of the barrel, the butt cracking against the soldiers chin.

The hold on his foot released immediately and he tumbled back over his shoulder, landing in a fashion that was both awkward and incredibly painful and whipping his legs at Rabbit, who dodged him obscenely wide.

This was obviously not what he had expected, coming to work today.

Naruto, despite the pain in his shoulder, was rather glad that he liked surprises.

More noises. How annoying.

Gaara growled angrily, his grip on the other man's throat tightening to near-crushing proportions. It was only by chance that he glanced back to see Naruto sprawled along the floor, his previous prey having returned. It was simply coincidence that the man attacking the blonde was someone that the insomniac ached to kill.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Wrenching his hand free from the the Arma's throat, Gaara turned his attention back to this one for a moment. The man looked shocked when his next struggle for breath came impossibly easy. It didn't last. Taking the knife held within his right hand, the red-head lifted it slightly, then swung it downwards in a smooth arc, cutting a line across the other's jugular.

The blood which poured through his veins splattered across Gaara's chest and face, staining his porcelain skin crimson, dirtying his coal-dark shirt. He licked his lips, smirking cruelly at the wide, frightened eyes of the man in front of him. He had won this match - had taken this man's life with a flick of the wrist -, and the realization left him feeling warm, satiated-

A gunshot.

It took Gaara a moment to realize what had happened exactly. He had made a base, stupid mistake - had let his bloodlust override his common sense. He had forgotten about the other man's gun.

With this realization came a rush of pain. The bullet had grazed along his right thigh. Luckily, the shard itself hadn't embedded into his skin - not that he could tell right that instant, at least -, but the shock of what had happened... left him breathless.

Naruto was having none of it.

The gunshot and the shot of panic down his spine from the vaguely pained sound of Gaara's voice drove his hand to the hence abandoned cashier door, and he grabbed it up to club Rabbit across the face with it. The young officer toppled into his colleague (whose lip was split from where Naruto had used his own weapon against him) and Naruto shot past them, grabbing Gaara's forearm and yanking him up and forward.

He hollered over his shoulder at his boss.

"Your turn to lock up, old man!"

And then it was time to run.

The pain lasted a moment, and then adrenaline washed over him and there was nothing left to do be expend the extra energy given to him. He followed after Naruto without a thought, the recent kill soothing his mind and making that inner voice fade into the background once again. It was only after several minutes of intense running that Gaara's head was clear enough to form a coherent thought, and that thought was: Why were they running? All his life, Gaara had known there were two ways to escape a bad situation. Fight, or flight. And he had never been one to run, before, no matter the consequences.

He stopped abruptly - or, at least, tried to. Naruto was still holding onto his forearm, and his sudden halt in progress did nothing but force the blonde to drag him forward again. The red-head stumbled a few steps, then planted his feet into the ground and grabbed hold of the hand gripping his arm.

"Stop," he rasped out, then winced slightly when he realized he was leaning all his weight on his right leg - the injured one.

Not badly injured, though. Just a bit sore, and given the right amount of time, he would grow used to the slight tinge of pain shooting up his leg.

Naruto was all bundled energy and hypertension; his contact seemed to have slipped out of place (they were probably floating around his eyes somewhere, still) and so his face was his own, all vibrant color and intense emotion, and his hand was still twisted around Gaara's arm firmly. His heart was pounding in his ears so loudly that he was having trouble listening for the sound of footsteps, for the sound of gunfire pursing them, for the sound of Gaara's monosyllabic pain.

It was probably bad that he couldn't stop grinning so wide it looked like his face was going to split.

"If we stop," he breathed (hard), "we're going to die."

His excitement was contagious. Gaara founds himself grinning as well - not the usual, human smile of a happy kid, or a teenager who just found himself in a load of trouble, and couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all. But something far more... sinister. More insane. It was as if his mania had engulfed his being, as if whatever controlled half his brain was now controlling half his visage, as well. Part of the grin was elation - a sick, dark kind of elation -, and the other still held a tinge of depravity.

He wasn't happy.

But something about the thrill of the chase made his heartbeat quicken.

He didn't answer Naruto's statement, but held his gaze as he ran a hand along his neck, smearing the blood there. It was like paint to him, really, and it fascinated him that, no matter how many times he stained his body with that dark crimson liquid, his pale skin always came out untouched.

Another pause, and then he leaned forward and took off in the direction the blonde had been running before, giving a fleeting glance back to see if Naruto was following.

He was, of course.

Caught him, even - they ran side by side for a while even as the streets lit up with makeshift Arma alarm systems. Bells on strings jangled along the sides of buildings; the air buzzed with electricity as the streets lit up. Naruto and Gaara were bathed in red long before the sounds of Arma boots met their ears - Cena was alive with chase and with civil war.

Naruto skidded to a halt as the sounds came closer and grabbed Gaara's forearm again to tug him up the steps of a long-abandoned cathedral; it was designed in the gothic style, easily the most elegantly constructed building for miles, even though it's stained glass windows had long been punched out and shattered. The doors were heavy and Naruto yanked one open as the excitement mounted.

And then he started laughing in the most peculiar way.

(The church was completely empty except for a few toppled pews.)

It was the thrill of the chase - the excitement of the hunt - that gave Gaara strength to run as fast and as unwavering as the blonde. It numbed his leg, numbed his mind, until his entire being was focused on nothing more than the dirty air whipping across his face, and the bright red lights flooding every street, every shadow.

Still, his senses were heightened, too. It was an unexplainable feeling - to be so oblivious, yet so acutely aware of his surroundings. When Naruto grabbed his arm, his entire body was conscious of the fact that he was being touched... again. It froze up, revolted against itself, and yet...

Yet, he couldn't pull away.

Gaara willingly followed the other, his wide, bright eyes taking in the expanse of the huge wooden doors in front of them - unbelieving, almost, that such a thing could be found in Cena. It looked run-down enough, though, and it made more sense when they stumbled inside. The church was abandoned, destroyed by time, by ages of misuse. The high-rise ceilings arched upwards, tapering out into the shadows above; blood red light streaming in through the stained glass. The colors were all distorted, gruesome patterns spattered across the floor, broken up by distinct red splotches from the bright lights outside.

The red-head heard a noise, and tilted his head in the blonde's direction. That wide, maniacal grin still split his face, and the look on Naruto's features... intrigued him. He snickered lightly, fists reflexively tightening and un-tightening, as his feet carried him over to where the blonde stood.

Naruto was grinning like some sort of maniac, was giggling like a schoolgirl, was matching up with every cliche available to be made of him. He was ripping his fingers through his hair, pins falling out in the wake of his nails, scattering across the tops of his arms and the trail he left across the tiled floor. He was unbuttoning the filthy plaid skirt (freedon freedom freedom) as he ran and baring the almost masculine looking shorts that he wore beneath and just running running running full out, dodging pews, vaulting through the spaces between them, dashing up the steps of the altar, never more than five feet ahead of Gaara.

The repairs on the Church had never really started because they had never really been intended to go through. Those in Cena who attended Church came for the social aspect and not for the sermons, and when the priest had died (in a whore house, of course - a civil dispute long forgotten) it had simply been decided that raunchy public intercourse could probably take place elsewhere. The stained glass windows had been stolen and everything on the altar removed. The glass of the skylight, too, was long vanished, and through the opening there were thick iron chains, hanging like vines. Naruto knew this place better than he let on (knew Itachi and Tayuya better than he let on) and he scrambled up the wall like he'd done it before.

He couldn't help the delirium which set in, the unbreakable madness that broke and bound the soul, yet set it free in such emptiness. To be nothing but a vapor, a breath against the wind, was to be above man; to be one with the air, the sky, the stars. Earth held no gravity, and the limits of the body were naught but a tick of doubt in a mind capable of performing the impossible.

The red-head followed Naruto's lead, jumping over empty pews, dodging shapeless debris, his eyes straying towards the chains even before the other had started his own climb. It was intoxicating, this madness.

Taking in a deep breath, Gaara released it in one long, shuddering sigh. He came skidding to a halt a little ways away from the mass of chains, his entire body buzzing with a strange kind of excitement. It had been far too long since he'd experienced something as thrilling as a chase.

There were a few strays pews scattered in front of him - obstacles to hinder him from reaching his destination. Where was he going, exactly? He couldn't remember anymore. Maybe he never knew. But thought didn't matter, when he pushed forward, throwing all his weight and momentum into one last leaping jump. He launched himself off the back of one of the wooden pews, the old structure creaking in protest. For a moment was was suspended in the air, arms outstretched, completely weightless - his blood, his flesh, his bones disappearing in a dazzling show of red light.

Impact. He hit the chains hard, chin tucked towards his chest to protect his eye, hands grabbing at the cool metal links. His entire body strained with the effort of holding his own weight up, but he was determined to hold on. He rocked back and forth for a few moments, but once the motions began to wane, he started his own ascent upwards; all animalistic fury, vicious, clawing effort to haul himself up, up, ever up.

Naruto was there, at his side.

The chains were unstable, slippery, metallic, and heavy between their hands. Naruto was laughing nonstop, couldn't contain himself - he was swimming in adrenaline. It felt like he'd just sucked it up his nose, his sinuses were burning and everything was whirling about his head at breakneck speed. He couldn't hear over his breathing and his heart beat but he knew he was laughing because his whole body was shaking with it, and he was smiling so hard it felt like his face was about to break in two.

All he could feel was himself and the chill of the metal between his hands; all he could feel was the strain and protest of his body as he yanked himself upwards, trying to keep a footing on the wall. He lost it suddenly and went tumbling through the air like an acrobat, swinging along on the chain, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.

To stop himself, in a short moment of common sense, he grabbed Gaara's bicep so that they swung obscenely close.

In a short moment of a complete lack of any and all sense, he chose then to kiss the redhead full on the mouth.

The laughter of another echoed through the cathedral, washing through Gaara, drowning him in an emotion mixed between bloodlust, and pure frenzy. He wasn't one to lose his head - he always held reason and logic above all else, valued control above all else. But it had been months since he'd last killed something, and to just burn off a fraction of the energy overtaking his being seemed to help immensely.

There was a rattle up ahead, a clinging of chains - like music. Like harsh, beating, high-pitched music. He barely took notice of it, really. Not when Naruto began to fall, not when the noise rose in volume, and the laughter... the laughter...

A hand gripped his arm, and he jerked towards the source of contact, eyes wide, lips pulled back in a threatening snarl. Gaara was no longer human. Gaara had become an animal.

Some unknown pressure was pushed against his mouth, and in a moment of shock, the insomniac fumbled forward, one hand still clinging tightly to his own chain, the other flying forward to steady himself on Naruto's shoulder. His grip was bone-crushing tight, but his mind was too foggy to register what was happening.

(But of course, neither of them would know that fog had a tendency to roll in off the ocean. Between the two of them, the ocean was a myth. Make believe.

Between these four walls-)

Naruto started laughing again and raced upwards.

Gaara followed him.

The roof of the Church was like the roof of any other building - towering cross was bent slightly to the left and as Naruto hoisted himself onto the roof he wrapped his arms around it and felt simultaneously uplifted and affectionate. Below, the low moan of alarms and streetlamps and gun fire made itself known - there was a resonating purr of civil war that ran up his arms. His laughter died where it was and he forgot to reach back to try and help Gaara up.

He looked over his Red District the way a mother watches her child leave with a gun across his back. He stared out over the wide array of buildings and disorder that was Cena and the city was reflected back into his face, making it glow.

What contact that had been thrust upon him was broken before he could register what had happened. In a burning desire to finish this meaningless race - the game without winners -, the red-head surged upwards again, focusing his mind on climbings the rest of the way upwards, and onto the roof above. Naruto was already there, and as he hoisted himself up over the edge, Gaara found that he was panting with exertion, the maniac's grin slowly fading from his features.

Each breath brought him closer to sanity - or, what could be considered sanity, for him -, and as the alarms rose in pitch, bleeding with the sounds of a city caught up in war, his mind finally shook from the fog he had been operating in.

His eyes strayed towards the blonde, piercing jade watching with intent curiosity as this relative stranger gazed out upon the city.

"Naruto." He spoke for the first time - not a question, not a demand. Simply a breath amongst other breaths, formed by the lips, dancing across the tongue and the halting lilt of a Cena accent.

Naruto turned around to look at him, study his face (beautiful. What kind of artist would create such a face? What kind of artist would have the mind to realize such a beautiful combination of features? Who could possibly be credited for so magnificent a thing? And it was even more beautifulwrapped up in the red silk lights of the District it had so long ago been sentenced to life therein. Naruto didn't have the presence of mind to think about too much else,) just as a luitenant in the street below spotted them and started yelling.

"Let's go," he said softly, with an air of I have to come back.

And it was all so clear, then. What had happened. The store, the chase, the church, the... What was that? He couldn't put a name to what had happened, but contact was contact, all the same. It made him shudder, just the memory. His eyes never strayed, though. Not when Naruto's own gaze turned towards him - studied him in an... odd way. Such a way that didn't imply attack - that didn't imply a threat at all. Yet it still put him on edge. Made him uneasy, in the very pit of his stomach.

Nodding once, Gaara lifted up, his black-rimmed eyes making one final sweep across the top of the building, across the whole of Cena itself, before turning his attention back towards the blonde.

He waited a moment, watching him, then came over slowly, literally stalking towards the other.

"... Lead, then." His tone was low, soft - a dark contrast to the officer yelling at them from below.

Naruto took his hand again (God, that whole tensing-the-fuck-up thing was getting irritating) and rested their foreheads together for a long, quiet moment. Skin touched skin and Naruto let his eyes close and let them stay together that way for almost a moment too long before his fingers tightened around Gaara's hand and he opened his eyes.

("I swear that I will never leave you.")

And then Naruto started them running for the border.