It had been a few days since Uriko had received the message. In fact, she'd been expecting it a little sooner. The growing political tumult in the Fire and Lightning nations presented an ideal opportunity for interested parties to capitalize. The kunoichi had assumed that with Konohagakure and Kumogakure busy replacing their lost Kages, maybe Kirigakure or a criminal faction would step in. She had not expected the coup to be industrial. A cloaked figure had passed the scroll to her discreetly, disappearing as quickly and silently as they had arrived. It wasn't until she was safely away from prying eyes that the woman dared open it, however. "...have heard of your exploits and believe you to be the perfect candidate for a task that requires both subterfuge and willingness to destroy." Uriko murmured under her breath, reading the parchment. "Weapons factory, munitions and shinobi, public protests, etcetera etcetera." She trailed off, no longer repeating the written words verbatim. The offer was clear enough - a peaceful town had been preyed upon by local industrialists, who had constructed a large armament factory within the settlement. Expecting conflict to follow the weapons, the citizens had risen up in protest but had so far been unsuccessful. And the mysterious benefactor wanted to take more extreme measures to make the collective voice heard.

"A man of the people, huh?" The woman quipped in growing respect for her would-be contractor. He (or she) was willing to do whatever it took to secure a victory for the innocents. If that meant lives sacrified in pursuit of the greater good, he seemed at peace with that. However, Uriko wasn't interested in low-level terrorism. Demolitions were not her forte, but she'd put paid to buildings before and it hadn't been too challenging. As for racking up a civilian body count... well, it would be like swatting flies. The kunoichi scanned the remaining text, her expression one of distinterst. That was, until she noticed the last few lines. "I hear that at least two of the major villages are sending military support, with a third highly likely." Uriko's features lifted at this news. "With such widespread shinobi involvement, I cannot ignore the risk this could pose to your well-being." With eyebrow raised, the woman continued to read. "Naturally, your payment would reflect these trying conditions. At initial assessment, I would suggest..." Uriko nearly dropped the parchment. Her eyes wide, she blinked incredulously. Few material rewards genuinely motivated the kunoichi. She was a complicated person, who preferred knowledge or power over financial gain. Yet this was a truly astonishing figure. It took only a moment of quiet contemplation before the woman had settled on her reply. "Huh." She chuckled, wondering whether a job that was technically in the public interest made her a good guy. Dismissing the absurd notion, the female nukenin secreted the message in her robes before moving to assemble her gear.

Mercifully, Uriko did not have to follow the mountainous path out of Kumogakure. She felt the towering peaks were far less imposing with her back to them. No, the kunoichi's destination took her through to opposite set of village gates and as the Kumo-nin Okashi had already vouched for her on arrival, leaving was no real trouble. Her current disguise was practically impenetrable by normal shinobi means; not at all like the fragile transformation technique they taught at the academies. It was a good deal more grotesque, too, requiring 'samples' from an individual before being able to take their form. Though she still had some of these left over, Uriko had been hoping not to need them on her current mission. The town in question lacked any sort of miliary presence and the female nukenin expected nothing more than non-shinobi security guards covering the factory. However, the contingent from the other nations made things a touch more difficult. As she was right now, even ninja with sensory abilities would not be able to identify anything untoward about the woman - her body, facial features and even her chakra signature had been falsified. Unfortunately, this procedure had been conducted almost three whole days ago, which left Uriko with about ten hours before her disguise fell apart. By the time she reached the settlement, the kunoichi would have maybe six hours left until she was exposed. I'll have to work fast. She thought silently as her pace quickened.

Uriko had been right: the settlement had little more than a glorified usher to meet newcomers at the gate. He stopped the woman as she approached, a friendly smile belying the nervousness of talking to a relative stranger. "Welcome to our humble village." He began, his voice trailing off when he noticed a Kumogakure forehead protector tied around the female nukenin's neck. This was a recent acquisition of Uriko's and had thus far proved rather helpful. "Ah. Are you... are you the shinobi they sent?" The man looked the kunoichi up and down, clearly disappointed. In fairness, she had borrowed  the face of a milkmaid - soft, brown, shoulder-length hair framed her green eyes and kindly features. Although she otherwise looked the part, dressed in a black shawl from shoulders to waist, brown bodice-like garment underneath, white zubon and charcoal tabi. "Are there more of you?" The greeter sniffed. The woman couldn't help but chuckle as she lifted her shawl to reveal weapons, scroll and item pouches attached to her body. Uriko took extra care not to unveil her missing arm, however. Satisfied by her silent statement of intent, the man backed away warily, before stepping aside and waving Uriko on through. The woman could scarcely believe his naïvety.

As it turned out, 'humble' had been a very astute description of the town. Though whether the usher had truly meant it was not entirely clear. The buildings were simplistic affairs and lacked the artistry of those found in larger, more developed settlements. The carpenters and builders here were no doubt capable, but their work would never sell beyond this village's four walls. Then there was the armament factory. It was, by comparison, colossal. Built almost entirely out of stone, it was a dull grey colour and quite the eyesore. Two great chimneys pumped out gaseous waste and a large, wooden doorway had been grafted onto one end. "I can see why the villagers aren't happy." Uriko muttered. She was walking swiftly in the direction of the factory, untying her neckwear as she went. Still moving, her gaze flitting from left to right, searching for somewhere to dispose of the forehead protector. A sewer hole beside one of the buildings caught her eye. Once assured that no one could see her, the female nukenin cast the Kumogakure band into the dark, dank pipeline. She was sad to see such a useful tool disappear, but it would serve only to identify her as an impersonator if the real Kumo-nin caught her wearing it.

As the enormous building loomed ahead, Uriko suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. In a clearing not ten feet to her left, there was a well. Two villagers were busy pouring water from the bucket into homemade containers, filling as many as the could carry before trudging back along the path. The female nukenin watched them until they had passed. "A stroke of luck." She murmured under her breath. What better way to spread panic than to poison the one thing everybody needed to survive? This was no improvised plan, but it had certainly been fortuitous that she'd just stumbled upon the water supply. A wicked grin crossed the kunoichi's face and she made a mental note to return as soon as possible. The factory was her target for now. With daylight illuminating the otherwise dreary building, Uriko would have to return after darkness had fallen. If she'd dispatched the guards and laid waste to the factory there and then, the female nukenin's would have failed in her task. A levelled structure could easily be rebuilt if the idea remained strong. But extinguish that idea and it might never return. Uriko's task was to force the industrialists out of the village, not simply delay their plans.

Determined to send this message, the female nukenin backtracked to the area by the well. Wooden houses lined the streets and made perfect surfaces for graffiti. The woman unfurled a small scroll, laying it out on the ground at her feet. After forming a single seal, she pressed her hand against a character on the parchment and with a small plume of smoke, a lump of charcoal appeared in her hand. Uriko normally used such minerals for crafting antidotes, but had other ideas for it today. Reaching up to the nearest wooden wall, she began drawing in large letters. CITIZENS SUFFER FOR CORPORATE SINS. The text was to serve as a warning and with luck, it wouldn't take long for news of it to reach the industrialist masters. Uriko was quick to pack up her things, dropping the charcoal into a pocket for later use. It was a good thing too, as a group of female villagers rounded the corner a second later. They laughing amongst themselves, taking little notice of the world around them. The female nukenin slipped noiselessly around the nearest corner, slinking away into the darkness of the alley. An alarmed shout followed by confused mutterings told the woman her handiwork had been discovered.

The sounds faded as Uriko made for the well, which was still a few housing blocks away. Just like before, a handful of civilians were already using it. A few seemed to have been distracted by the distant commotion and began tentatively wandering over to investigate. When those who had continued their water-drawing efforts eventually left too, the kunoichi hurried over and immediately lowered the bucket until she heard a faint splash. After letting it sink a few inches, she dragged the rope a little and scooped up the liquid before hauling the wooden container back to the surface. When a furtive glance at her surroundings revealed no onlookers, Uriko formed two consecutive, one handed seals and plunged her hand into the water. Faint, green wisps liquid of began to seep out of her pores. It was not long before the entire contents had become a pale, cloudy-green colour. As casually as she could, the woman tilted the bucket until the tainted water gushed forth, cascading down into the darkness and eventually re-joining the source. Although it would take some time for enough people to fall ill to cause panic, the first step in the kunoichi's plan was complete.

The smug sense of accomplishment soon faded. As she pushed the bucket back into the well, she noticed a loose flake of skin on her hand. Rubbing it gently across a nearby wall caused a large strip to peel away and fall the the ground. Shit! Uriko cursed silently as she tossed the offending item after the bucket. Brushing a finger against her cheek, she could feel the fragility of the skin. The female nukenin closed her eyes as a pained expression crossed her face. Determining the limits of her unique transformaton skill was not an exact science. Indeed, each attempt had yielded slightly different results. Yet Uriko had felt assured of a good three or so hours left when she'd entered the settlement. Now it looked highly likely she'd be back to her original self within thirty minutes. The regression process wasn't painful at least, but it was unpleasant. Finding somewhere to lay low whilst she essentially shed her skin took top priority. With the graffiti attracting more and more citizens to it, the woman was able to settle on something a little less secure than she might normally choose.

Away from the main streets, Uriko collapsed into a dark alcove. Half way out of her clothes, she hastily tore the rest away as the process finally began. Shivering violently, her skin started to decompose. Large strips began to peel away, falling to the ground when the tremors shook them loose. The change wasn't merely surface deep, either. The kunoichi's muscles and bones were re-aligning themselves to fit her regular build. Unsurprisingly, the first time she'd undergone this regression, it had seriously tested the woman's endurance. Nowadays, she felt the pain but it no longer caused her such distress. Able to control her emotions and her desire to cry out, she simply sat in silence and rode out the worst of it. Eventually, the shaking subsided and her aching muscles went limp. Breathing a sigh of relief, Uriko staggered to her feet. She immediately set about brushing off any stray bits of skin that had clung on. Looking down, the female nukenin recognized her body once more and half-smiled.

A few minutes later, the woman was fully clothed again, although she'd made a few changes to her outfit. The brown bodice had been discarded, Uriko preferring just the looser and more comfortable cream shirt that she'd worn underneath. The black shawl was replaced with a golden-yellow one that she'd brought with her and the white zubon were similarly abandoned in favour of a grey pair. Happy that her outfit was not instantly recognizable as belonging the the name "Uriko", the woman gathered the old garments and found another sewer hole to drop them into. She wasn't overly concerned about the leftover skin, though. It would fully decompose within a few minutes and there would be no trace. All things considered, the kunoichi was remarkably satisfied with the way things had turned out. Unbeknowst to her however, the village-nin delegates were soon to arrive.

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OOC: A few notes, for contextual clarification. Uriko has been staying undercover in Kumogakure lately and used the transformation techniques (referenced in the text) to help her remain undetected. It would be unfair of me to count those as assets in this topic, but I hope you don't mind me detailing the regression process. Also, the forehead protector was acquired/used in previous topics but as you can see, Uriko is abandoning it for this topic. Oh and sorry for the length! The rest will be more reasonable, I can assure you.

Through the chill and loneliness of the pristine night, the red head had made the annoying journey from Kirigakure to this place of mountains and valleys that was so foreign to him. In his anger at the Mizukage for such an annoying mission, he had left in a huff of overly polite words and clipped statements before packing up and heading out long before his designated time. Would the blond man be angry at his impersonal actions, or thankful for the willingness to finish the mission in the fastest and most efficient way? The Mizukage was such a strange man that it could be both, or neither. Maybe even some mythical third option that hadn't occurred to him yet. Even his designated 'partner' was left behind in his rush, but would be joining him some time this afternoon like they had planned out. Hopefully, he would get the civilians rounded up and ready to go long before he arrived. He had arrived early in the morning, just before the first shift of the guards, and asked to be brought before the village leader or leaders. After an hour or so of debating with the man's personal guards over the validity of his presence, he had finally gotten an audience where he had all but threatened the man until he the red head the information about every known Kirigakure civilian in his village. The hardest part was now over, or at least that's what he kept telling himself.

A lot of his life had been broken up in between Konohagakure and Kirigakure, so he hadn't had the chance to become too particularly attached to the people within either. With the exceptions of his now deceased family and the Mizukage, of course. The land of water, swamps, and mist was now his permanent residence due to his past in the land of fire and forests, so he had to make at least an attempt to show he cared for the other residents. If he had it his way, he would be Inoshi's personal guard and the hell with the rest of them. He had suffered at the hands of the faceless masses, so it was safer just to stick to the one face he knew didn't contribute to the demons of his past. Now, as he tapped his foot roughly against a tattered wooden door, he wondered just how much he would be willing to put up with as the loyal dog. The door creaked open hesitantly, for the 15th time that day, and this time it was the face of a small girl. Her straw colored hair was ruffled as if she had been asleep, and large blue eyes gazed up at him with confusion. Within moments, she was pulled back from the door and a rather broad man took up the entirety of the door frame. There was no smile on the tanned man's face, lines from too much sun and not enough laughter around his pale blue eyes and mouth. He had the look of a sailor about him that Akahari recognized.

While the red head was tall, he was slimmer then this dinosaur of a man, but no less strong he was sure. Being a shinobi had some physical benefits to it, but he was sure the man had been off duty for years. Likely the muscled look was either hereditary or for show, so he stood straight and arrogant in the face of the scowling man as he held out a small letter signed by the Mizukage himself.

Dear Kirigakure Civilian,
We are sorry to inform you that, due to the many threats on your safety, we have issued an order for your safe return to Kirigakure, guarded by well trained Kirigakure shinobi. This is to ensure you receive maximum protection as the threat of pressing times calls for out forcs to be united, instead of divided amongst every splinter group. If you refuse to return, your citizenship will be officially revoked along with any benfits which may have been included with such. This includes, but is not limited to, the obligation of our Kirigakure shinobi to protect you. We hope to see you amongst our own again.

There was an elegant signature at the bottom, and he knew that Inoshi had taken the time to sign each of them individually. Anyone who chose to leave the village was only allowed so much if they did not return to fulfill their roles at civilians. They were just as important as shinobi were, but they were useless if they were not in their village. These people were walking a fine line between exile and acceptance. This was their last chance, for the Mizukage made it clear he would not allow his best to be sent off it separate directions for an unknown amount of time to protect deserters. Akahari was given orders to return tomorrow with the civilians, or without them. So upon receiving the addresses from the leader he had set out to where they had all clustered together on the outskirts of the small village, just like when they had lived in Kirigakure. Out-casted for their ties to the Bloody Mist, and their difference in appearances and attitudes; It seemed like old habits died hard. The larger man seemed to realize what the letter meant, and was suddenly angry. He could see a vein bulging in the thick, tanned neck, and the narrowing of those ghostly eyes seconds before the letter was crumpled up and thrown at his feet. The door slammed shut hard enough to make the frame shiver and rattle something on the inside. Akahari didn't blink at the reaction, this was the fourth person who tried to blame him for the request. It wasn't he who told them to move out here in to the land of lightning. They were just a few less people he had to look after.

Withdrawing a small list from his black cargo pants pocket, he withdrew a pencil from behind his ear and crossed off 3 more names for the inhabitants of the household. Somewhere, he felt bad for the child and it's mother who would have no choice in the matter. Maybe if the mother wasn't as weak as she seemed by hiding inside the dark house, she would take her child and set off to the village against the husband's wishes. Placing both items back in their respective places, he stepped off the small doorstep and returned to the dusty road that should lead straight to the gate. Everyone who had accepted the issue for return would be gathering just outside at different times in a sheltered area out of sight of the guards. They had been instructed to leave from separate smaller gates, and to have ample excuses for the few belongings they would have with them if any at all. He had been informed that shinobi from other nations would be here to tend to their citizens as well, and he only bothered to wonder if any of the Konohagakure ninjas would recognize him. Most likely not. In his dramatically flashy clothing, he looked nothing like a shinobi, but more like some rogue gang member. The thin, red tank top clung to every curve of muscle along his toned abdomen, framed by the black of his fur hooded jacket. Standard issue cargo pants and black sandals were the only hint, but they were easy enough to acquire without it immediately giving him away. The Kirigakure headband was tucked safely away under the jacket on his left arm, and he had hardly needed to flash it to prove his position.

A commotion started up nearby as he arrived at the gates, a few startled cries that caused his golden eyes to glance towards the sound. It died down as soon as it started, so he assumed it was nothing of interest and tipped his head to the guards on the inside. There was a group gathering here, assuming they were the shinobi that had been sent on similar missions to his. They all looked much younger then he, but looks could be deceiving. His partner should be arriving soon, and he would send him to make a run of the village to search for danger before they took their leave with whoever had followed his instructions. There was no need to defend people who did not belong to the village of his Mizukage-sama, so they meant less to him then the grass and dirt beneath his shoes, but he had to ensure he would not lead trouble back to his home.

Scratch. Scraaaattccch. The muted sound was nonetheless recognizable as an etching in progress. Blackened rock met smooth, birch wood as Uriko delivered another of her written warnings. CITIZENS SUFFER FOR CORPORATE SINS. That made three of these messages so far, spread out across the southern district of town. While the great armament factory loomed over the village from its northern quarter, the main flow of human traffic came by the gates to the south. Uriko was merely trying to maximise the panic she spread with her graffiti. Though naturally, she ran a greater risk of being spotted in an area of such high footfall. The woman cast her gaze up and down the street, wary of unnoticed onlookers. She was fortunate. With the hour approaching lunch time, most had settled down to break bread with their friends and colleagues.  Pocketing the thinning lump of charcoal, Uriko leaned over and rubbed her palm in the sand-like grit that covered the streets. The black marks and smudges from her fingertips disappeared. Faint sounds of approaching civilians alerted the kunoichi to the danger and she quickly scampered away from the scene, not even waiting to hear the cries of alarm.

Sensible though it was to distance herself from her crimes, Uriko knew better than to isolate herself. A solitary figure stalking the backstreets and avoiding the crowds? Few things could look more suspicious. Instead, the kunoichi headed towards the unmistakeable sounds of life. She followed the busiest noises, eventually rounding a corner and finding herself at the beginning of a large market throroughfare. Throngs of people chatting, laughing, bickering and bargaining littered the street. The atmosphere was bright and excitable and even in such a small town, the turnout was impressive. Uriko began to wonder whether the merchants here sold items unique to the village. Something had to be attracting the masses. As colourful as the stalls were, it wasn't long before the aromas stole the woman's attention. "Ah. So it's the food." She murmured knowingly. In fact, having neglected to eat the previous evening and having been preoccupied throughout the day so far, she was beginning to feel the need for sustenance herself. Ducking through the curtained archway to a yakitori parlour a few metres back from the stalls, the kunoichi found herself a stool and scanned the nearest menu paper.

Yakitori was one of the few things Uriko could consume without drawing attention to herself. Anything that came in a bowl - rice, ramen, soup - needed two hands to steady the vessel. And even though she had learned to manage with just the one, it was generally considered rude to do so. On principle, manners were not a huge concern for the female nukenin. But the more her fellow diners stared judgementally, the more likely one of them would notice her features or worse, recognize her. Forever singled out by her missing limb, Uriko had at least taken great care to disguise this blemish. With the marigold-coloured shawl draped loosely across her shoulders, even under some scrutiny it would merely seem as though her hand were at her side or on her lap. Feeling relatively safe from the stares of those sat nearby, the woman raised her arm and indicated her readiness to order. A server was quick to notice, walking swiftly from one end of the counter to the other. "Yes?" He asked smartly. "Two negima, one enoki maki." Uriko replied. The server didn't seem bothered by note taking. "And to drink? We have freshly drawn water to keep the heat at bay." He suggested, gesturing towards the sky outside and the increasingly warm weather. "Sake, if you have it. I'll pass on the water." The kunoichi chuckled darkly.

It was highly unlikely the nukenin's benefactor would have approved of the break. Admittedly, she could have simply ingested a food pill and moved on. But actions performed in haste could never match up to those given due consideration and thus her deviation to the restaurant would not be wasted. Besides which, it was only a matter of time before the fast-acting poison claimed the vitality of an unsuspecting civilian. As the yakitori server had so carefully pointed out, the weather was becoming quite temperate. The skewers arrived before her on a wooden board, accompanied by a small bowl of sauce and a stoneware cup of sake. However, a nearby conversation drew Uriko's attention elsewhere. "...damn vagrants from the islands. Mark my words, they'll be sending Kiri-nin soon." The kunoichi ate autonomously, barely registering the food as she listened in. "Cut them some slack, Yoichi. They've had a long journey. Besides, it's the ones from Kumo you should be watching." Uriko gripped her masu cup lightly, sipping the alcohol in small quantities. "After that business with the Kage? Maybe you're right." The pair grew silent then, focusing on their meals rather than their issues. Even so, the little nugget of information was of some interest to the female nukenin.

No wonder they built a factory. Citizens from at least three of the great nations all in one place? It's a marketer's dream. Uriko mused. But this development was not entirely welcome. It meant that the repercussions of the woman's actions would be far-reaching indeed. If they identified the perpetrator, much of her hard work building anonymity would be undone. Not that they'll ever identify me. Uriko quipped, strengthening her resolve. After all, her task was to spread terror and force the industrialists to back down. Given the array of talents she possessed, there was no reason for direct confrontation to ever occur. Pulling a slice of pork and a little mushroom from her enoki maki skewer, the woman chewed slowly, glancing at the faces sat alongisde and around her. No one seemed to be paying her any attention. Their mistake. She thought silently, deftly removing two paper tags from the item pouch at her hip. Uriko gently placed them on the underside of the counter, invisible to anyone who stood at over four feet. With no intention of detonating the tags for the time being, the kunoichi simply finished off the rest of her meal, supping the liquor to wash it down.

Elsewhere, out of earshot to those in the marketplace, a cry for help pierced the air. A young boy, no more than twelve, had collapsed in the street.

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OOC: If you wanted to deal with the sick child, he'd probably be at stage [2] of the Smallpox disease (see previous post for poison details). I hope everything's okay with the post and that you guys will let me know if not.

That silent, golden gaze slid over the genin as he approached, taking in all there was to see. In his opinion, it wasn't very much at all like he had imagined based on the descriptions given to him. Indeed, he had almost the same hue in the eyes, and his red hair was worn in a a similarly messy style, but their lifetimes worth of expressions and wear had made all the difference in the face and body. Where this slightly shorter version had laugh lines and clearer skin, he was littered with small white scars, had multiple piercings, and had a perpetual arrogant tilt to his head that suggested he really couldn't care less. The boy approached him boldly, outright asking if he was the one he was supposed to be meeting. If they were back in Kirigakure, he might have said no and watched the boy run around for another 45 minutes before he figured it out. But here in this strange land, time was most likely of the essence. He would just have to remember to do it once they were home again.

Without outright answering the question, he knew the boy would at least be able to understand his words. "You have a job to do, I suggest you get on with it." He took a few steps, slipping past the younger shinobi with a bored expression on his face with the slight tilt of annoyance. Stopping just behind his shoulder, he spoke low with his head turned to the side. "As planned, I'll be going ahead with them. We'll be doing a straight shot back, so when you're done make sure you comb our trail for any...parasites we might have picked up from this trash heap of a town." Those eyes flickered towards the gate nearby, watching the other ninja hustling around and moving in to the village. "It would be a shame if you died, but no skin off my teeth. You will be alone, so watch your back kid."

It was with those words that he had attempted for the first time to encourage anyone he did not personally know. While he wouldn't lose sleep over the boy getting himself killed, he would have to explain to Inoshi it had been his fault for leaving him in a potentially dangerous situation. Without looking back, he started towards the gates as people hustled by him. The headband was hidden, and there were shouts of alarm and snatches of words like 'help' and 'sick'. Was this just a random occurrence, or was it the beginnings of the tension that plagued this village unraveling in to madness and panic? Moments later, there was an explosion. He boredly looked over his shoulder to see the plume of dirt, debris, and smoke going in to the air. Well, that was constructive wasn't it? Something told him that hadn't been a terrorist attack, but it wasn't his problem anymore.

The guard was standing within the gate now, mouth open wide as he saw the aftermath and heard the screams of fear. He hardly noticed Akahari slipping by, out in to the shadows of the woods to round up his people and take them home. The trouble was inside, and anyone still inside was not his issue to deal with.

Some distance from the yakitori parlour, a concerned citizens were flocking to the distressed sounds of a sickly youth. The boy had simply collapsed in the thoroughfare, feverish and vomiting. On his skin, a number of bleeding lesions had emerged, threatening to burst. Many who approached were soon put off by the smell and the sight of the lad, many more by the fear of contagion. Truth be told, they were right to be cautious. This particular disease would spread like wildfire given the chance. Pain clearly wracked the youngster's body as he tried to get to his feet. One kindly stranger hurried to help lift him, his arm wrapped supportively beneath the lad's shoulders. Practically dragging the weakened child away from the cowering crowd, the stranger glared at the assembled citizens. Once the pair were out of sight, a chorus of murmurs erupted amongst the group. "What was that?" "Could we be infected too?" "I don't feel well..." The sharing of worries was soon interrupted by one of the crowd departing in a rather abrupt manner. "Water! Got to keep ourselves clean." The woman exclaimed, heading in the direction of the nearest well. She was promptly followed by a great number of the crowd, though some decided not to engage in the scramble for priority. Little did any of them know (though the wiser ones might have suspected) that their water supply was the source of such terror.

Unaware of the commotion some eight or so blocks away, Uriko was calmly putting paid to the remnants of her meal. Draining the last of the sake to wash the food down, she hopped off of the stool and made a beeline for the exit. "Hey, hey you!" An alarmed cry sounded from behind the woman. Glancing over her shoulder, the kunoichi saw her server weaving between his colleagues and scurrying around the far end of the bar top. "You've gotta pay for that meal, lady!" A moment later, his hand brushed the woman's collarbone as he tried to lay it on her shoulder. When his palm met only the gnarled remains of one, the female nukenin flashed the man a threatening stare. "I, er, that'll be six hu..." He stuttered, his voice tailing off as courage deserted him. Rooted to the spot, the man could only watch as Uriko calmly strode through the open doorway. After a few paces, she lifted her fingers to form a simple seal. A smile played on her lips before she opened her mouth to whisper the activation.

FFFWBOOM! The deep sound signalled a thunderous explosion. The ground underfoot rumbled and Uriko ducked aside to gain purchase on the nearest wall. "The hell...?" She muttered, wide-eyed and surveying the scene intently. Three buildings down and one back, she could see orange flames and black smoke emerging. Behind her, the restaurant customers had huddled beneath their chairs and tables, only a select few emerging from the doorway to see what was going on. Already en route to the burning building, Uriko only just caught sight of these escapees from the corner of her eye. "Not a chance." She snarled, immediately detonating her own incendiary trap. SHBOOM-BOOM! Shattered glass and debris fell a few metres short of the woman's heels, quick as she was to escape the scene of the crime and investigate the other. If she had turned to examine her handiwork, she would have seen a semi-collapsed building with plumes of smoke emerging from the cracks. Few could have survived such an attack.

Wheeling sharply around the corner, Uriko came face to face with the flames as they threatened to latch onto the next structure. She felt the glow of the intense heat against her skin as she approached, casting her gaze wildly about in search of the culprit. Whatever their 'alignment', the perpetrator could only be regarded as a rogue element that stood to disrupt the kunoichi's mission. It was imperative, therefore, to eliminate such interference as soon as possible. Amongst the fleeing citizens, she noticed one young man leading a small group of people away from the disaster. He moved quickly and with purpose. With everyone else running around in sheer panic, this level-headed individual piqued the female nukenin's interest. A few strides into her pursuit however, Uriko was once again brought to an unexpected halt. Hearing and feeling a distant rumbling, she turned to witness the tip of what appeared to be a large earthen dome rise up and join the skyline of rooftops. "What now?" The woman intoned, exasperated. When a thick, rolling mist enveloped a third part of town, the woman's patience broke.

Chakra surged forth, gathering at her now-clenched fist. The kunoichi's features were screwed up in anger, her teeth bared. Swinging her arm viciously at the building beside her, the entire structure shattered as the strike made contact. A powerful shockwave erupted at the epicenter, sending stone, wood and glass flying. Still raging, Uriko brought her hand to her chest, forming seals to better control the technique she was preparing. Wisps of faintly yellow gas escaped her lips, before eventually they burst open, releasing a large cloud of the same substance. Even as it emerged, the gas was moving and taking shape. Barely seconds later, a great flock of ethereal yellow crows surged forward and into the depths of the settlement. "Finish the job. I'm done." Uriko instructed, watching her fifteen-strong flock set off to terrorize the village. Just being struck by one of these creatures would be enough to infect an organic being with the virus, but inhaling the birds' fumes would also have such an effect. Now that neither the water nor the air was safe, the town was in dire straights. Without proper medical care, the civilians would perish in a matter of days, maybe weeks.

It had taken three separate incidents for Uriko to figure out what had been going on, but figure it out she had. After learning of the diversity of the settlement's population from talkative barflies, to witness such an uncoordinated display of techniques - it pointed to the involvement of multiple great nations. No doubt shinobi sent to protect their own village's interests. Furious that the intel she had been provided with had either failed to discover or omitted this fact, Uriko decided to leave the fate of the townspeople in their own hands. With her anti-corporate messages plastered on a number of walls through the city, she was sure that the industrialist overseers would take note. If they didn't... the kunoichi was beyond caring. She was tired. More so than ever and although she didn't like to admit it, the woman knew perfectly well why. As she landed deftly on the other side of the village wall, she could almost feel the voice grinning as doubt invaded her mind.

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OOC: I've done my best to leave this ambiguous. Since I felt this topic's lack of interest was entirely down to my absence, I couldn't justifiably drag it out because various things weren't correct or fair up until this point. I hope those that wanted to continue properly have been given a chance to satisfactorily wrap up in their next post and those that have already finished (albeit contentiously) do not feel like I've screwed them over with the above. Phew, this was actually quite tricky to negotiate.