Approval

[Mission Start]

Yakato Renji idly pulled up a plate of his rusted samurai armor, scratching the itch underneath. Renji was an old man, well past his prime, and the armor was older still, and made for a man half his age, as evidence by the way he had to loosen the belly-plate around his expansive paunch. His old, wizened head was completely devoid of hair, even eyebrows or stubble, and dull brown eyes peaked out from the doughy folds of his face. No, Renji was far too old for the life of a bandit. Alas,  it was the only life he had ever known, and it was the only life he was fit for, in his old age. Still, experience had perks; the group was well and content to allow old man Renji, with his wisdom of years, to continue doddering about as he pleased.

He pulled up his pants, his belt wrapping around underneath his gut, his eyes already distant as he thoroughly ignored the weeping lass, tied down to the coarse straw bed, as he left the small room. Yes, Renji might have been old, but he still fit in well with the life of a raider. He trundled along the cavern complex, giving a nod and a hello to other youngsters passing by, no doubt on their way to their own "visits" with the girl and others. "Makoto, you little shit, this is the third time today I've seen you down here!" He called out jovially, spitting on the dusty cave floor. The youth, a white-haired lad with a vicious scar down one eye, turned his remaining grey orb on the older, making a mock glare as he laughed. "Don't give me that you old fuck, the only reason you seen me is because you've come down five!" Renji laughed, slugging the younger man in the arm as he passed. "Well enjoy sloppy fifths then, you little runt!"

Renji continue trundling along, seeing more and more faces as he passed by, lingering for a moment outside the mess hall before sorrowfully patting his pudgy belly and moving on. It was quite an operation they had down here; the cavern complex was big and well hidden, and a long way out from the hidden village, given them almost free reign to prey on the local hamlets and the like, each day coming back with fresh supplies and, even more eagerly anticipated, fresh women. But, Renji had had his fun for the day (indeed, more than most of the younger men could manage even), and now it was time to earn his keep; guard duty.

Not that it was particularly needed; they had become quite adept at hiding the one and only entrance to their cavern fortress, handily fooling even the shinobi of the Leaf Village. They were the kings of their own little empire. Trundling through the tunnels and passing by the occasional larger cavern, roofs hidden in darkness, Renji made his way to the "entryway" of their humble abode. It was a wide cavern, narrowing down to a choke point from which Renji exited. A ladder lead up to the sealed entrance in the roof-top, with an accompanying pulley system for the larger (or unconscious) finds. Sitting at a table near the ladder, two younger guards were making a game of stabbing a knife between their fingers as fast as they could. The fact that each had only three or four fingers left on each hand served to prove their dedication and stupidity.

In unison, they looked up as Renji entered. One of them, an indigo haired, weasly looking one with brown eyes, groaned in relief. "About time, you old fuck! My stomach was gonna eat its way through my spine at this rate." His companion, a black-haired individual with an ape-like face, laughed. Renji shook his head. "More likely Yatsuo, you ugly little rat, you're just blueballed to high heaven. Damned things have themselves buried so far inside you, their pissy little terror quivering could be mistaken for a stomach rumble." The apeish looking one only laughed even harder as Yatsuo blushed in anger, temper rising. Renji cut him off with a wave. "Off with ya, ya little pissants. Go-on, get." The two grumbled but eagerly made their exit through the choke point.

Renji sat down heavily in the chair, opening the lantern sitting on the table a little wider. His old eyes couldn't see very well these days, and his bones told him it was getting to be night-time outside anyway. He settled back in his chair, eyes already starting to drift shut in a nice nap. Guard duty was hardly needed. No on ever found their camp of operations anyway... He yawned, crossing his hands across his paunch, his flabby chin resting on his chest, eyes closing more and more...

The trap door banged open. Renji bolted up in his chair, snorting, one hand scrabbling for the rusty dagger at his belt while the other grabbed the lantern, turning it towards the ladder as he began to open his mouth to cry out- but there was nothing. He squinted his eyes, raising the lantern up higher. He could see a few stars glimmering outside the portal, but otherwise, nothing. Not a soul to be found. He stared intensely, before grumbling as he set the lantern down, heaving himself up the ladder. "Feh, damned thing must have come loose... Need to get that fixed... Don't want wild animals wandering in..." He muttered to himself as he heaved himself up the ladder, swaying on it as he climbed up and forced the door shut again, double-checking that it was wedged in place.

He heaved back down the ladder, setting down heavily on the floor before resuming his vigil in the chair. Renji muttered, dimming the lantern a little bit, before once again crossing his arms across his paunch. He fell into slumber almost immediately this time. His heavy snoring filled the cavern. Time ticked by, shadows creeping ever close to the dimming flame. Deep in the realm of slumber, Renji slept on blissfully.

The lantern snuffed out.

"... And then she fucking tried to bite me!" Makoto yelled, waving his drink theatrically and splashing a bit of luke-warm rotgut across the table. His drinking companions merely laughed at him, Yatsuo loudest as he spoke up. "Serves you right, ya dipshit! You oughta know better than to try for the mouth out of the new ones! Need to break em innnnn." He drawled out the last word, grinning lewdly. Makoto simply flipped him the bird. "Yeah yeah, up yours, I like having my prick clean, know what I mean?" That generated another round of laughs from the table. There were multiple other tables, all with their own sets of lowlifes, drinking or playing cards in the torch light. Makoto grunted as he got up from his seat, staggering a little. "Alright, I'm gonna go relieve that fat fuck Renji so he can go ahead and add some more fat to his paunch. Come on, Ox, gonna need your muscle getting his fat ass outta his chair."

The apish man, Ox, grunted as he heaved up out of his seat, following Makoto. The two weaved along the passage, laughing as they drunkenly staggered and bounced off walls, though still taking care to avoid knocking over the torches. As they got to the post, they drew up short, noticing how dark it was within. Makoto grunted, shaking his head. "Teh, fat slob must've fallen asleep and let the lantern go out." He muttered, grabbing up a torch from a wall sconce, Ox doing the same as the advanced into the room. "Oi Renji, you fat fuck, wake the fuck... Renji?" His single grey eye narrowed in confusion. The torch light revealed the table, but of Renji, there wasn't a trace to be found.

Makoto made a clicking noise of disapproval. "Tch, where'd that fat fucker roll off to? He better not be back down at the wenches..." He turned around to see Ox staring upwards. "Oi, Ox, what're you... lookin... at..." Dead silence reigned in the cavern. It was really rather amazing, the way those thin little wires managed to support the weight of Renji's corpse, his front stained a rusty-color from the blood spilled form his now gaping throat, his sightless eyes gazing in a frozen expression of mild surprise. Makoto cursed violently. "Mother fucker! Mother shit piss-stain fucker!" He held his hands up to his head, gripping his temples. "Mother... Shit, shit, shiiiiiiit. Some hot-shot son of a bitch thinks he can... Oh, we're gonna kill his ass." Rage filled up Makoto now; an intruder dared enter their home, kill their old, fat fuck? There would be blood. But first, some dignity to the fallen comrade.

He pulled out his belt knife, tossing it to Ox. "Ox, get up there and cut the poor sum-bitch down, we've got a hunt to start." Ox nodded, climbing up the ladder to reach the wire, knife flicking out. Makoto turned to the choke-point, planning to make haste and alert the others. There was a twang as the wire gave way and Renji's corpse fell to the floor. Makoto was going to ignore it, right up until he heard a swishing noise, a dull thud, and then another heavy thump. He paused mid-stride, turning around slowly. The fallen torch illuminated Renji's body, and next to it, Ox, blood already pooling from the brace of kunai lodged where his face had been. Makoto could barely breathe, when the torch by Ox suddenly went out.

He didn't wait. He turned tail and booked it, panting heavily, trying to ignore the trickle of wetness down his leg. Heaving between breaths, he shouted as he ran "Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch! Man the fuck up you hosers, fucking intruder! Fucking ninja in the hideout!" He burst into the mess hall just as the others started bolting to their feet in surprise, alarmed by his panic. Makoto leaned heavily on a table, gasping for air as he waved off the babble of questions. "Fucking Renji and Ox are dead, mother fucker slit the fat fuck's throat while he was sleeping and booby trapped his fucking corpse, fucking over Ox!" There was a general growl as weapons were hefted; they may have been a band of cut-throats, but they looked out for their own.

Makoto wheezed as he turned back towards the entry. "We need to man the fuck up, get down to the whore houses and get everyone else, hit up the armory, and then track down this bastard and fuck him up! Nobody fucks with us!" There was an outcry of agreement. "Hoo! Hoo!" Makoto turned back towards the mess-hall entrance. "Now, let's get out there and..." He stopped, staring down the passage-way. The dark, dark, unlit passage way. The one that had been perfectly bright a mere minute ago. "... What the fuck happened to all the torches-" A dark tendril lashed out from the dark portal. Before they could do much more than cry out in shock, it whipped around the room with lightning speed, extinguishing one torch after another. Tables were knocked over as men cried out backing into them, avoiding the tendril.

Makoto was too slow to duck, feeling it lash across his face, the cold, cool touch of... Water? Before he could process this, the final torch was snuffed out, and there was a muffled splash as the tendril was no more. Men continued shouting, bumping into each other, knocking over more tables, creating a loud clamour. Makoto hollered to be heard. "Shut up shut up shut the fuck UP! We need to be able to hear this mother fucker coming after us you dumb shits!" That shut the up real quick. There was a tense, bated silence as they strained to hear, making no noise save for the shuffling of feet across the dirtied floor. They heard nothing.

And then the screaming started.

The first scream was more of a startled yelp, quickly turning into a muffled gurgle. A half second later, the next voice, having a fraction of a second more to realize what was happening, reaching a far more frantic volume before being cut off. It didn't take long from there for the cavern to devolve into a cacophony of panicked yelps and hoarse shouts, a clatter arising as tables were knocked over, multitudes of feet shuffling about, the crunch of ceramic platters being stepped on- and one by one, a voice being removed from the din. It was complete and utter pandemonium, though Makoto's thoughts were more dominated along the lines of 'I can't fucking see!'

He scrabbled around in the darkness, finding the bar as he tried to ignore the chaos erupting in the darkness around him, and more importantly, how many fewer voices there were now. 'Where is it where the fuck is it-' His fingers dug around under the bar, clasping around a sloshing flask of oil. He yanked it out, focusing on the flask intently as he ignored the continue shrieks and shouts. It was a meager, pathetic trickle of chakra he focused on, and the strain it took for him to gather it up spoke volumes to his lack of formal ninja training. Nevertheless, he felt the "apex" was reached, and he turned around, flinging the flask. "Eat shit and die you prick mother fucker!"

It was a simple design, the flask. Nothing more than a jar of oil wrapped with a tattered explosive tag. The compound had multiples of them scattered around for emergencies, and old man Renji, curse his fat soul, had been well versed enough to spread knowledge of how to use them amongst his "family." That said, the components were bastardly difficult to come by, and they were only to be used in states of emergency; Renji had jokingly called them the "Wildfire Protocol."

The flask exploded, splattering a spray of burning oil across the cavern. Lit up like a Christmas tree, the man in black whirled towards the light, bone-white mask splattered in blood, an arm rising up to shield himself as a spray of burning oil splashed onto it. He was not alone, as multiple others were also caught in the spray, to varying degrees, though a large portion was merely splattered onto a few overturned tables. Makoto himself cursed as he patted at his burning hair, but it was enough; they had light to see by. "Get that candy ass mother fucker! Now!" There was a ragged cry from what remained of the camp as they converged on the dark form immediately.

Still patting out the fire on his coat, a sailing chair was ducked at the last moment. Two men converged on him from both sides, one wielding a sword, the other a wicked looking hatchet; shifting away from the longer-reaching weapon, the man in black only got a score along his mask, twisting around the hatchet-wielding man and destroying his throat in a spray of blood. Even despite his speed however, the man apparently realized the danger that was coming upon him as more bandits converged.

Suddenly, off like a flash, he was weaving through the crowd, shouts ringing out as flash of blood erupted here and there, nothing fatal, but long, serious gouges appearing left and right as he warded individuals off. Then, as quick as he had appeared, he was gone, disappeared back down the darkened tunnel. Briefly, the only sound was the low groan of injured bodies strewn across the floor. Makoto breathed harshly, like a winded bull. "For fuck's sake, grab a couple of those tables and blockade the door!" A couple of men rushed to comply as Makoto surveyed what was left of the once proud bandit company. Eight. Just eight souls still fit to stand. Everyone else either lay in a pool of slowly expanding blood, or weren't long from there.

He cursed, spitting on the ground. "Shit, shit, shit...." They were in a bad spot, whatever way one looked at it. The ninja might have been scared off my their numbers, but fact was, he'd fucking eviscerated them. They wouldn't be able to hold off another surprise attack like that, not with their equipment. It must have showed on his face, because Yatsuo's weaselly little mug was screwed up in concern as he walked up to him. "We're right hosed, aren't we, Makoto?"

Makoto grimaced, walking over to the cave entrance, where they were still trying to wrestle a table into place. "Not just yet." He grunted, as he grabbed one edge of the table, steadying it. "If we can just get to the armory, we might have a better chance of tackling this fucker-"

He never saw the kunai coming, and barely felt the cold steel entering just above his remaining eye. Fortunately for him, death was swift and immediate; swift enough that he would not feel the three explosive tags wrapped around it going off, popping his skull like an over-ripe grape.

Yatsuo's weaselly face barely even registered as Makoto's head exploded like a popped zit, blood and viscera splattering into his face. Fortunately for him, he'd been far enough away that the splash damage and deafening boom were the worst he had to show for it. Unfortunately for the two who had been helping him lever the table into place, the blooming explosion had shattered it into so much shrapnel. One of them dropped to his knees, screaming as he clawed at his face, eyes blinded and splinters peppering his cheeks. The other simple keeled over to the floor, gurgling around a large shard lodged in his throat, pawing at it weakly as the light left his eyes.

'We're completely fucked.' Were Yatsuo's only thoughts as  he dove to the side, keeping himself out of the line of sight of the opening of death. He was far from alone, what few remained of the group throwing themselves asides. The only sound now was the poor bastard still clawing at his eyes, stumbling around. Yatuso licked parched lips, managing to raise his voice, calling out to the stricken man. "For Kami's sake Ganjuro, shut the fuck up!" Heedless to the unsympathetic shout, the blinded man, Ganjuro as it were, stumbled out into the open, in full view of the passage. Seemingly in slow motion, a pronged dagger flew from the darkness, silencing him once and for all as it nailed into the back of his head.

Everything was silent as the corpse swayed for a moment, falling backwards towards the darkness. It landed heavily on the ground, lodging the knife deeper. Yatsuo watched in morbid fascination as a wire attached to the knife stretched taught, twisting Ganjuro's head as the dagger was yanked back out. 'And then there were four, and they were royally, royally fucked.' Craning his head around, Yatsuo surveyed what was left of their little group. Fucking four people, including himself; Yaeger, a tough sumbitch with a sword but no ninja, Jinbei, a fat, greasy bastard who knew his way around a bow, and Gurijo, a guy who spent more time pleasuring himself with the captives than anything else. Fucking company of twenty, reduced to this.

Yaeger, up against the wall, sword in hand, his blocky face marred by fear, wiped some sweat from his bald head as he met Yatsuo's eyes. "So this is it then? We die, fucking cornered like rats?" Across the way, Jinbei, toying with a throwing knife, spat on the floor. "Fuck with that shit. You heard Makoto, if we can make it to the armory, we might have a chance. Enough food, armor, and explosives to send this sorry fucker packing." Peeking up from behind the bar, Gurijo, face pale as a sheet and wide eyed, looked back and forth between the two. "You fuckers are crazy! He just fucking wasted sixteen fucking people! We're beyond screwed!"

Licking his lips, Yatsuo slowly stood up. "Maybe, but he sure as hell isn't gonna leave us in here long enough to starve. At... at least this way, might be quick." Jinbei and Yaeger shared a glance, turning back to Yatsuo before nodding. Gurijo shook his head, ducking back under the bar. "Fuck y'all guys, I'll take my chances hiding!" Moving carefully and slowly, the trio gathered up materials, moving by the light of the dying fire. Jinbei picked up whatever knives he could scrounge, while Yatsuo pried a hatchet from one of his former comrades. Yaeger, quietly and methodically, slit the throats of what few were left, too injured to stand and fight. Better than leaving them to linger.

Scrounging up everything they could, armed as well as they could, they eyeballed the dark passage. Maybe it was still being watched. Maybe they would die before they'd gotten more than a few steps down it. Maybe he was working through the compound, picking up whatever other stragglers weren't in the dining hall at the time of the massacre. Maybe it didn't matter, since they were royally fucking hosed anyway. Yatsuo shook his head. "Fucking hell. Should listened to ma, and helped dad run the shop."

Gurijo breathed heavily, quivering as he contained a whimper. He was a coward among cowards, through and through. He did just enough "shifts" not to get kicked out or slaughtered, but otherwise spend just about all his time moving from one "prisoner" to the  next. There wasn't a woman in the compound who hadn't been subjected to his touch. He was by no means a fighter, and seeing his entire company slaughtered, just utterly butchered like pigs... He was almost glad no one else was alive, if only because none of them would be able to laugh at his soiled trousers.

Shifting, he strived to make as little noise as possible. He'd watched the other three slowly make their way into the tunnel, knowing full and well they were marching off to their deaths. He knew there was no way the three of them could accomplish taking down the guy who'd fucking murdered sixteen of their buddies. They'd lost too many to have enough number advantage over his skills, and he'd already proven from his earlier surprise attack that he knew how to fight in the dark.

So here he was, hiding like the coward he was. He'd crawled inside a cupboard under the bar, straining not to move and make too much noise, wincing horrible each time he tried to shift position and bumped against the wall so his confines, all but choking on the thick, suffocating stench of his own sweat and urine. All said and done, he still thought is a better deal than going out and trying to face that black wraith. He had a good internal clock; wait a day, two, however long it took. Surely by then, the guy would believe every one dead, and move on-

So loud was his own breathing to his ears, he didn't hear the quiet foot steps, the occasional splash as a step was interrupted by a puddle of blood. His breath hitched in his throat as the cabinet door was abruptly wrenched open, and he stared death in its cold, white mask. 'Shitshitshitshitshitshit-'

---

Yatsuo and co, armed with makeshift torches made from what few non-bloody rags and non-spoiled oil they could find, were surprised they made it to the end of the corridor alive, but that just made them even more tense. Bunched into a group, the moved slowly down the corridor, trying to keep an eye on every possible point of assault. The longer they went without running into that black spectre, the more and more tensely and nervously they moved. Then, they heard the screaming.

The jerked around, looking far back the way they came, eyes straining in the dark as they faced the direction of the echoing screams. Yaeger cursed. "Shit! Fucker went behind us and got Gujiro!" Yatsuo grabbed his shoulder, jerking. "Well don't just stand there, we know where he is, now let's haul!" Bustling down the corridor, they panted heavily, bouncing off walls as they rushed through the dark. Jinbei, despite his large size, was proving fastest, pulling ahead. He gave a loud yell as he abruptly tripped, and Yatsuo barely heard the twang of wire before throwing himself flat, a flash of metal glinting in the torch light.

Yaeger looked down, almost disbelievingly, at the brace of kunai lodged in his chest. One was directly over his heart, already a dark gush of blood flowing out around it. He didn't even curse; his knees simply folded under him, and Yatsuo knew he was dead before he hit the ground. Yatsuo jumped up cursing. "Fucking shit man! Fucking fucker can't let fucking up! Fuck!" Jinbei picked himself up, shaking himself off before moving over to Yaeger. Wasting no time, he began yanking daggers out of the man. "Yatsuo... Run." He stared off into the darkness, gripping his daggers tightly. "Just barricade yourself in the armory. Get!"

Not needing to be told twice, Yatsuo ran for all he was worth, torch wavering in his mad flight. Tripping, bouncing off walls, gasping for breath and staggering, he ran, making his way through the twisting, turning warren of tunnels. After what seemed like a lifetime, he stumbled into the armor alcove, facing the large, cast iron door. Dropping the torch, he threw himself at it, wrenching on the large iron wheel that locked it. Panting heavily, he wrenched again and again. With a creak, the large lock finally opened, the door creaking forward an inch.

Panting from the exertion, he stepped back, looking around for the torch. It wasn't on the ground anymore. He slowly turned, pale as a sheet, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Head tilted at an almost curious angle, the masked visage of his killer stared at him from beyond the slowly dimming torch flame. Yatsuo backed up against the door, hatchet dropping to the floor uselessly, eyes wide as a trickle of urine made its way down his leg.

The torch went out.

Senna stared listlessly at the wall, her face buried against the rough straw that constituted a "bed" for her and her fellow captives. She had been their... plaything, for longer than her mind could tolerate thinking about. By now, she took most of the abuse silently, internally praying for the day they might stop finding her any "fun" and "dispose" of her. She hadn't reacted at all to the echoes of screams from the far end of the compound; more like than not, it was some new capture being... Broken in. Publicly. She shivered, her mind shying away from the memory of her own... Initiation. Few of the other girls reacted either, though she could hear some cases of quiet weeping.

Footsteps rang along the floor leading up to her cell, and she mentally tensed, already withdrawing into her own mind, the only escape she had left. The door was thrown open, and a man, draped in black, his white mask splattered with crimson,was revealed, holding a knife in one hand and a torch in the other. Using it to set light to the one in her cell, he set it in a free sconce, moving closer. Detachedly, she wondered if this was what the Shinigami looked like. So detached was her mind, it took her a moment to realize that her bonds had been cut, and the figure was gone.

She sat up slowly, not quite understanding. Was it some cruel new game? Had she finally lost her mind completely, and retreated wholly into whimsical fantasy and wishful thinking? But no, the pain in her hands as circulation returned, the pain of her many bruises, felt all too real. Getting up slowly, she timidly made her way to the cell door, peaking around. She saw many other woman doing the same. All of the women.

It took time to collect themselves, but they slowly made their way from the cells, bunched together in a group. Out of all the numerous pathways, only a single one was lit with torches, so they followed that. Somehow, Senna found herself in the lead. Shuffling slowly along, she lead the group past what she knew to have been the dining area. It was dark, and the smell of blood hung thick in the air. Finally, they reached the alcove that she faintly remembered to be how they had been delivered  to this living hell.

There were numerous small bundles along the ground to one side, seemingly small packs of provisions. There was also a large pile of rags, various scraps of clothes and blankets, arranged with no particular care. Several girls already made for it, clearly eager to wear something other than the soiled, coarse rags they'd likely spent months in. A small lantern illuminated a table, with a compass and map rolled out atop it. But that's not what caught the attention of the rest of the women.

Bound and gagged in chairs, Gajiro and Yatsuo stared wide-eyed at the group before them. Frozen only a moment, they began heaving rapidly at their bindings, muffled yells of fear emerging from the rags stuffed in their mouths. Arrayed across the floor in front of them was a large pile of knives, a few swords, and a single hatchet. Senna slowly, carefully picked up a knife, as did several other women, causing the two men to struggle even more.

It had been a long time since Senna had allowed herself to feel any emotion- and many of her fellow captives could have said the same- but oh, the anger felt so very, very good.

---

Gouka was still just close enough to the cavern to hear the screams echoing out across the hills. 'Hm. Guess the gags came loose.' Suffice to say, he'd accomplished his mission, and a shadow clone would... Well, shadow the women, to ensure they reached the nearest settlement unmolested. Once they had worked out their anger, of course.

Dropping the blood-stained rag he'd used to wipe off his blades and mask, he set off into an easy, fast lope. It was rare he felt genuinely satisfied after a days work. He'd enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

[End]