“You have any idea how much longer we’re going to be out here? I reek of scorpion piss.”
The vulgar low-tone voice of a man tired of hiding behind a rock in the middle of a desert crackled through over a short-wave radio. Another man, hiding inside of a small cave with the other hand-held radio pushed on the little red button to relay his reply of,
“Just a little longer.”
It had been "just a little longer now,” for about three hours. He was dressed in light colored layers, a wrap of cloth around his head to catch the sweat as his dust blond hair was left open to allow heat to escape from his skull. Surrounding him was little rocks that covered his position better than his brother who was, no doubt, just simply hiding behind a rock and baking in the desert heat. It was taking far more time to do his job than usual, and his concern for the older sibling was strong but…this was what they were being paid for.
Handsomely too. They were freelance explosive experts who had become famous for cracking new oil wells in the desert with non-flammable explosives. They had a technique that pushed the kinetic force of an explosion downwards while removing all of the residual heat to make perfect, removal of…well, anything. Originally it was the removal of pests, which was why they had to reduce to heat part in the first place; burning animal corpse did not sell well. Then it was pinpoint explosions to demolish large bits of mountain or rock faces for nomadic travel paths. Then, finally, the same nomads procured the brother’s work for cracking new oil wells when a tribe stumbled upon one; as they were want to do these days.
Or, at least, used to. Work had all but dried up in that regard once those damnable twins took over the train market. They had missed a total of 2 seasons worth of work due to the sudden war on the Nomads which made their job suddenly under the purview of not only a couple of rich bastards, but the shinobi military of the country. The previous they didn’t mind scuttling around - dealing with stupid rich folk were a pass time for the brothers once they got into cracking oil. Suna though? Who in their right mind pissed off a village full of super soldiers capable of wizardry? The pair had all but hung up their hardhats when a bill of request came sliding under the door to their little desert shack next to the sea. And, while they hated who had requested their service for many reasons, they couldn’t say no to the amount offered. Morals be damned, a million yen was not to be scoffed at. Especially since that was the exact amount to pay off their debts and refill the coffers back to up to snuff; basically allowing them to write off the two seasons of unemployment.
The hand radio crackled to life again,
“Hey, seismic meter is kicking. Guess the source wasn’t lying after all. Over.”
“Copying that, meter over here is shaking too. Soon as you can feel it in your feet, drop the plunger. Over.”
“Roger that.”
The younger brother closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel with his belly. He had always assumed that he had a gift for chakra moulding, but never did anything with it. They were both cowards by nature and grew up on the edges of oasis’. More akin to what someone might call a “desert bandit,” until they got really good at explosions. But, it was all his older brother who had the talent for that. The younger? With a little concentration, he could feel the earth below and knew where the hollows were. Sure as fire was hot, he could see the outlines of the massive city moving around below them like some kind of twisted fairytale.
“Blow it,” he whispered into his hand radio.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Guard duty for the gates had made huge changes over the last year, which was only right considering that now they lived underground. Not that, that was unusual for Sunagakure by any means, but last time they weren’t moving around while living in a cave. His eyes were turned not to the road ahead, because only certain shinobi capable of a special type of chakra could do that, but towards the village itself. Despite being underground, in light of being surrounded in complete darkness…it was mid-afternoon. His eyes squinted looking over at the lit up village as the fake sun burned down against his two-week stubble. He could feel it toasting him up just like the real sun, but not enough to actually burn him; and it was that part that bothered the guard.
None of it felt real. Being underground, riding a giant railroad, living in a world of false sunlight and perfect air - it was all too surreal. There had been a few things they had discovered along the way in that last year though. Sometimes O2 would stagnate in closets, or sealed spaces. Water was still a precious resource despite having crystals that could produce it; without proper filtration it just tasted like the dirt it came from and was by no means clean. So the process to get clean water for bathing, cleaning, and drinking still took some time which would force Suna to occasionally stop near known spring wells. Food, on the other hand, was actually in abundance if you were a vegetarian…which is what a lot of the poorer folk had become. Meat in the underground was, at best, suspect. Deadly at worse. The creatures who roamed the tunnels were rarely edible if not downright poisonous.
Which, was the other thing they were learning about their new way of life: the Underground did not like them. The constant vibration of their giant village moving through tunnels where sandworms once roam woke up a whole host of critters. They had actually discovered a lot more about the mysterious invertebrates. What they preferred to eat, what kind of parasite infected them, what made them sick and, of course, the biggest find of all: all it was deadly to humanity.
The parasites were by far the worse of the lot. The illness was just the Red Fever to which they already had a cure for but, there was a scary couple of months where it had nearly become another pandemic. The things the sandworms ate were deadly to humans in various ways, but for the most part it came down to being inedible due to natural toxins. Sometimes these things were smaller worms, lobster-like creatures, giant scorpions, and one time it was some kind of scalely goat. But the parasites? Giant crab like creatures that could spit steel melting acid. They became a constant source of headache for the military as the one real danger of the Underground, but hey, guard duty was at least not crab duty.
Reaching into a pocket on his dark brown vest, the shinobi pulled out a precious cigarette, the last one he’d have until they resurface for trade, and tentatively brought it to his lips. Right as he was about to light the red-colored tobacco within, his sense of balance was suddenly sent hurtling. Slamming into a wall, the man barely molded enough chakra to cushion a sudden blow he had no doubt managed to kill at least someone. Now, events like this? Plain suspicious. Despite the ragtag of everything the railroad represented, Takahashi Sousuke was one helluva engineer. If there was a bump in the road, something was stopping them. His fingers reached up to tap the little headset powered by crystals to call up to the situation room,
“Hey, what the hell?”
“So -ething…blocked…explo-….”
Cackling static was all that remained. Putting the cigarette back into his vest, the shinobi sighed before stepping up onto the wall to begin a quick climb up to the communication center for the gates. Upon reaching the door, it swished right open and he collided with a woman carrying a bunch of papers and charts.
“Move! This is an emergency we need to report to higher ups right now! We’re sitting ducks!”
The male stepped aside and allowed his fellow soldier by before stepping into see what the survey team was freaking out about. And there, before him on a giant screen tinted with green, was a massive wall of rubble blocking their path. An eye trained for subterfuge, which coincidentally his was, could see the jagged breaks in the stone were unnatural. Whatever had done this was a force of strength, via explosion or two S-Rank shinobi fighting over their village.
Given their recent luck, he was putting bets on the former.
The vulgar low-tone voice of a man tired of hiding behind a rock in the middle of a desert crackled through over a short-wave radio. Another man, hiding inside of a small cave with the other hand-held radio pushed on the little red button to relay his reply of,
“Just a little longer.”
It had been "just a little longer now,” for about three hours. He was dressed in light colored layers, a wrap of cloth around his head to catch the sweat as his dust blond hair was left open to allow heat to escape from his skull. Surrounding him was little rocks that covered his position better than his brother who was, no doubt, just simply hiding behind a rock and baking in the desert heat. It was taking far more time to do his job than usual, and his concern for the older sibling was strong but…this was what they were being paid for.
Handsomely too. They were freelance explosive experts who had become famous for cracking new oil wells in the desert with non-flammable explosives. They had a technique that pushed the kinetic force of an explosion downwards while removing all of the residual heat to make perfect, removal of…well, anything. Originally it was the removal of pests, which was why they had to reduce to heat part in the first place; burning animal corpse did not sell well. Then it was pinpoint explosions to demolish large bits of mountain or rock faces for nomadic travel paths. Then, finally, the same nomads procured the brother’s work for cracking new oil wells when a tribe stumbled upon one; as they were want to do these days.
Or, at least, used to. Work had all but dried up in that regard once those damnable twins took over the train market. They had missed a total of 2 seasons worth of work due to the sudden war on the Nomads which made their job suddenly under the purview of not only a couple of rich bastards, but the shinobi military of the country. The previous they didn’t mind scuttling around - dealing with stupid rich folk were a pass time for the brothers once they got into cracking oil. Suna though? Who in their right mind pissed off a village full of super soldiers capable of wizardry? The pair had all but hung up their hardhats when a bill of request came sliding under the door to their little desert shack next to the sea. And, while they hated who had requested their service for many reasons, they couldn’t say no to the amount offered. Morals be damned, a million yen was not to be scoffed at. Especially since that was the exact amount to pay off their debts and refill the coffers back to up to snuff; basically allowing them to write off the two seasons of unemployment.
The hand radio crackled to life again,
“Hey, seismic meter is kicking. Guess the source wasn’t lying after all. Over.”
“Copying that, meter over here is shaking too. Soon as you can feel it in your feet, drop the plunger. Over.”
“Roger that.”
The younger brother closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel with his belly. He had always assumed that he had a gift for chakra moulding, but never did anything with it. They were both cowards by nature and grew up on the edges of oasis’. More akin to what someone might call a “desert bandit,” until they got really good at explosions. But, it was all his older brother who had the talent for that. The younger? With a little concentration, he could feel the earth below and knew where the hollows were. Sure as fire was hot, he could see the outlines of the massive city moving around below them like some kind of twisted fairytale.
“Blow it,” he whispered into his hand radio.
———————————————————————————————————————————————————
Guard duty for the gates had made huge changes over the last year, which was only right considering that now they lived underground. Not that, that was unusual for Sunagakure by any means, but last time they weren’t moving around while living in a cave. His eyes were turned not to the road ahead, because only certain shinobi capable of a special type of chakra could do that, but towards the village itself. Despite being underground, in light of being surrounded in complete darkness…it was mid-afternoon. His eyes squinted looking over at the lit up village as the fake sun burned down against his two-week stubble. He could feel it toasting him up just like the real sun, but not enough to actually burn him; and it was that part that bothered the guard.
None of it felt real. Being underground, riding a giant railroad, living in a world of false sunlight and perfect air - it was all too surreal. There had been a few things they had discovered along the way in that last year though. Sometimes O2 would stagnate in closets, or sealed spaces. Water was still a precious resource despite having crystals that could produce it; without proper filtration it just tasted like the dirt it came from and was by no means clean. So the process to get clean water for bathing, cleaning, and drinking still took some time which would force Suna to occasionally stop near known spring wells. Food, on the other hand, was actually in abundance if you were a vegetarian…which is what a lot of the poorer folk had become. Meat in the underground was, at best, suspect. Deadly at worse. The creatures who roamed the tunnels were rarely edible if not downright poisonous.
Which, was the other thing they were learning about their new way of life: the Underground did not like them. The constant vibration of their giant village moving through tunnels where sandworms once roam woke up a whole host of critters. They had actually discovered a lot more about the mysterious invertebrates. What they preferred to eat, what kind of parasite infected them, what made them sick and, of course, the biggest find of all: all it was deadly to humanity.
The parasites were by far the worse of the lot. The illness was just the Red Fever to which they already had a cure for but, there was a scary couple of months where it had nearly become another pandemic. The things the sandworms ate were deadly to humans in various ways, but for the most part it came down to being inedible due to natural toxins. Sometimes these things were smaller worms, lobster-like creatures, giant scorpions, and one time it was some kind of scalely goat. But the parasites? Giant crab like creatures that could spit steel melting acid. They became a constant source of headache for the military as the one real danger of the Underground, but hey, guard duty was at least not crab duty.
Reaching into a pocket on his dark brown vest, the shinobi pulled out a precious cigarette, the last one he’d have until they resurface for trade, and tentatively brought it to his lips. Right as he was about to light the red-colored tobacco within, his sense of balance was suddenly sent hurtling. Slamming into a wall, the man barely molded enough chakra to cushion a sudden blow he had no doubt managed to kill at least someone. Now, events like this? Plain suspicious. Despite the ragtag of everything the railroad represented, Takahashi Sousuke was one helluva engineer. If there was a bump in the road, something was stopping them. His fingers reached up to tap the little headset powered by crystals to call up to the situation room,
“Hey, what the hell?”
“So -ething…blocked…explo-….”
Cackling static was all that remained. Putting the cigarette back into his vest, the shinobi sighed before stepping up onto the wall to begin a quick climb up to the communication center for the gates. Upon reaching the door, it swished right open and he collided with a woman carrying a bunch of papers and charts.
“Move! This is an emergency we need to report to higher ups right now! We’re sitting ducks!”
The male stepped aside and allowed his fellow soldier by before stepping into see what the survey team was freaking out about. And there, before him on a giant screen tinted with green, was a massive wall of rubble blocking their path. An eye trained for subterfuge, which coincidentally his was, could see the jagged breaks in the stone were unnatural. Whatever had done this was a force of strength, via explosion or two S-Rank shinobi fighting over their village.
Given their recent luck, he was putting bets on the former.