Teasing the Edges

A/N: Thanks so much to Cookie and Mignonne, who have been there since the beginning on this. Your reviews are always the highlight of my day when I get them, and this time they really encouraged me to get this up in time for Mardi Gras like I wanted to, even though I’ve been getting some less than encouraging comments from reviewers that made me realize that I’m not getting my point across like I want to because people aren’t really getting the point I’m trying to make. This is really experimental for me, and apparently I’m not hitting the points that I want to, but that’s ok, I’ll just keep trying to work out the kinks. One thing I do want to address though: there are no anomalies in my writing. Everything that happens, happens for a reason, there will never be any useless descriptions or events just to fill up space or whatever, So anything that seems off, just hasn’t been explained yet, I’m not finished, so just bear with me, we’ve still got at least another forty or so chapters to go (Including all the Oneshots and multi chaptered fics for all the pairings). If everything doesn’t make sense by then, then I suck, my bad. Sorry for the atrociously long A/N, I usually hate that, but I couldn’t resist the urge to do a little mini-rant. Anyway, enjoy the fic and a happy Lundi and Mardi Gras to everyone, Laissez les bon temps roulez!

In the humid, misty heat of the Louisiana swamps Zabuza used to call home, the alligators aren’t the only predators hiding in the murky waters. But while this mission seems ordinary enough, he quickly finds that this is the one that will change everything.

Taking the Spoils


The darkness blanketed everything within viewing distance. Zabuza breathed in the hot summer air and a wicked smile spread over his face. For a lot of other operatives the heat and humidity would have been oppressive, but not for Zabuza. He was finally on a mission in the swamps he’d grown up in, and it increased his confidence and made him feel invincible. This was his original hunting ground, the first time he’d taken a life it had been here in the swirling mists home to the bayou country.

He pulled a cigarette out of the well-worn pack in his pocket as he surveyed the darkness, and the flair of the flame from his lighter briefly illuminated his handsome features before being extinguished. Strains of the music he’d been listening to while traveling still flickered through his mind. As he exhaled the smoke, he softly sang parts of his favorite songs. Music that in his mind was the soundtrack for his life.

“I am the constant chill that runs up and down your spine.” Humming as he inhaled another lungful, he let the music continue to play in his head, and further gear him up for the coming fight. “You know that I control you…that I enslave you…and leave you comatose…” The words spilled out into the darkness without conscious thought, and Zabuza loved how they sounded, ominous and promising against the background music of the water, crickets and mosquitoes.

The smell of the air was something Zabuza had not prepared himself for. Southern Louisiana air had a distinct odor to it when you were near the water. It smelled damp and earthy and the force of it was more than Zabuza was prepared for. It called to mind stray and uncontrolled thoughts of his father that had been buried since he killed the man when he was eight. But those thought were quickly suppressed and the music in his head increased in volume until it was a deafening roar.

“So what if I cause hysteria…it’s not my dilemma…I’m only here to inflict pain…” More words that spilled out into the night as he rowed in his small flat-bottomed boat along the mostly abandoned waterways. Once visions of his father and his bloody death stopped trying to press against the backs of his eyelids, the heavy metal in his head retreated to a manageable level and he noticed more about his surroundings.

He could hear the gators moving about in the water and he chuckled to himself at the sound. One of them had obviously found an unwilling meal in the hot darkness because the distinctive sound of one of them going into a ‘death-roll’ reached him over the din of the swamp at night.

These gangsters were smart. They’d successfully hidden their base of operations in the middle of a complicated system of intersecting bayous and canals known as ‘Gator Alley.” Not only did the large predators serve as a means of keeping unwanted visitors out, but also as a means of disposing bodies when needed. The Florida Everglades were well known for being a popular dumpsite, but the often overlooked Louisiana swamps offered the same ease and convenience.

But the gangsters weren’t smart enough. They hadn’t counted on Zabuza. The assassin was completely at home here and wasn’t at all intimidated by the gators. He did however have to be smart about infiltrating the stronghold. There were sure to plenty of gang members here guarding the lab where they produced most of their drugs, and the store-room where most of the product was held until it was ready to be distributed among their dealers.

The stronghold wasn’t what they showed in the movies when the cops raided the mob bosses’ secret hideout. It wasn’t a mansion by any means. There wasn’t a multitude of expensive cars littering the driveway. In fact there wasn’t even a driveway. The only way to access the place was by water. So instead of Ferraris and Bentleys, there were expensive cigarette boats tied to a well-tended pier at the foot of the stairs that led to the main entrance.

The compound was about as large as it could be and still be supported by the pilings that were necessary to prevent flooding, but even so Zabuza guessed it could only have about six or seven bedrooms, and still have enough space to manufacture and store the merchandise, not exactly action movie material. But it was still a far cry from the shacks and fishing camps that normally peppered the banks this far out on the water.

The lack of size presented a slight problem for Zabuza. His intel indicated that there were at least twenty men staying at the compound and there were sure to be guards on duty. With such a small area to cover, Zabuza was sure the darkness would only conceal his presence for so long. He needed a plan. As he continued his approach in his small bateaux, he noticed that there were no thugs stationed on either the dock or the stairs which was good news for the assassin.

He continued to row and maneuvered the small boat until he reached the pier. He hopped out onto the weather treated wood almost soundlessly. He didn’t bother tying up the bateaux; he didn’t plan on using it to get out of there anyway. He didn’t waste any time watching it float away either, just because there wasn’t anyone watching the boats now didn’t mean that there wasn’t anyone coming. He crouched low and began swiftly crawling toward some of the boats that were tied up closest to the house.

He grabbed the rope securing one of the speed boats to the pier and pulled it close enough to reach the hull. Even though the water made the task easier, the boat was still heavy, and his muscles bunched and strained with the effort. When he could reach the bow, he pulled a plastic device from his pocket and stuck it to the outer shell of the boat. The device was a plastic detonator hooked to enough C-4 to kill not only you, but your small dog, and the city block you happen to be occupying at the time.

He crawled along, repeating the process on a few of the other boats tethered there. Some might have considered this overkill, but Zabuza only looked at it as fun. He knew he’d enjoy the shower of flame and debris as he sped off into the night on a stolen boat after killing everyone inside. There were few joys in Zabuza’s life, but causing mayhem and destruction were definitely at the top of the short list.

After planting four detonators, set to blow in fifteen minutes, he moved toward the steps. He had to be much more efficient now; he was on a time crunch. Even if he managed to not be killed by the explosion if he was still around when things went boom, the C-4 would surely destroy all of the boats in the vicinity, leaving him with no means of escape, except to try his luck swimming with the gators.

Approaching the stairs cautiously, he didn’t see any guards outside. These bastards were exceedingly arrogant in thinking that the remote location and the harsh conditions would protect them. He climbed silently, and when he reached the top he kicked down the door with his machete in hand ready for anything. There was, however, no need to worry. There was no one around.

He didn’t return his beloved weapon to the place on his belt though, just in case. He was sure to come up against some opposition soon, better to be prepared. The blade felt comfortable in his hand anyway. It wasn’t the original machete he’d used to hack his father to death, only a very close replication, but still Zabuza refused to go on any mission without it. There was comfort and confidence in the familiarity of it, and it was only appropriate that he used the same weapon he’d used to kill his father and uncles every time he killed now, since it was their faces he saw each time anyway.

There was movement in the hall around the corner from him. He stopped and pressed himself against the wall listening for clues as to what was happening. There were two men coming down the hall toward him. The grin on his face would have been appropriate inspiration for renaissance painters trying to depict the devil. He waited with the hilt of his machete griped tightly in his hand.

He had the element of surprise in his favor. As soon as the men rounded the corner, Zabuza struck. His aim was true, and his first swing of his blade connected with a sickening slick sound and took his first opponent’s head clean off. The second man didn’t even have time for his shock to register before Zabuza swung again hitting the man in the chest.

There was a crunch as the sharp unforgiving blade cut through bone to reach the vulnerable flesh underneath. Blood sprayed out from the fatal wound, and the dying man had time to look down and see the horrifying sight of the blade protruding from the place in his chest cavity where his heart resided before his eyes rolled back and he began to slump forward. It took a little force to dislodge his blade, and when he did more blood sprayed into the air, coating Zabuza thoroughly.

That had been just as satisfying as he thought it would be, and he wished he could linger, but he had to move on. He raced down the hallway the two men had just come from hoping to find something useful. His mission was to destroy the lab where the drugs were being manufactured, and if he was going to kill enough people afterwards to make it worth his time, then he needed to find the lab and plant the detonators quickly.

The hallway ended abruptly and Zabuza did the only thing he could, opened the door at the end. As soon as he burst inside, there was a cry of surprise from one of the four occupants inside. Fuck! They were sure to make some noise before he could kill them all. He didn’t let anymore time slip away while these thoughts were racing through his brain. His arm was pulled back and swung forward in a graceful arc almost without any direction from his brain.

The cut didn’t take the man’s head all the way off this time, but it did sever enough vital arteries to be fatal as well as sever his windpipe to keep him from screaming. Thank god too, because beside the fact that it would draw unwanted attention, Zabuza didn’t think he could handle the noise anyway. The other three men had drawn guns now and Zabuza resisted the urge to shake his head.

He launched the machete through the air and almost instantly there was a scream of pain from across the room. One of the men was now staring at the place at the end of his arm where a hand holding a gun used to be. Zabuza loved using a weapon that could remove entire appendages at will. A shot was fired at him then, but he’d been ready for it and was already on the move.

He lamented the loss of his machete, after severing the thug’s hand it had clattered under some large piece of expensive looking machinery, but he hadn’t come into this unprepared. He reached down to another sheath on his belt and removed the knife he kept there. It zipped through the air almost as soon as it was in his hand and then Zabuza was once again dodging to avoid another hasty shot from across the room.

Zabuza was just as good with a knife as he was with a machete. The change in weaponry didn’t change his accuracy at all and he was pleased to note that it was the thug who’d been shooting at him that now had the blade sheathed in his forehead. There was another moan of pain from another corner of the room and Zabuza snapped his head in that direction to see that the stupid fool had actually shot his own man when he’d missed Zabuza the second time. The shot was a lucky one, it had hit the gangster in the throat, and it wouldn’t take long for him to bleed to death.

Zabuza walked over calmly and retrieved his knife from its place in the dead man’s skull. He just as calmly stalked over to the remaining thug who was now holding his stump of an arm with the other hand and babbling incoherently in pain. Zabuza made the kill quick and clean slicing him just under his chin, the crazed man offering no resistance.

When he’d finished killing them, Zabuza took stock of his surroundings and realized he was standing in the middle of the lab, he walked over and found the biggest piece of machinery and attached a detonator to it. He took quite a bit of satisfaction in the fact that it was the same piece of equipment that was now keeping him separated from his machete.

After planting the device he exited the room, he wanted to hunt for more gangsters, but he knew he was running low on time, he had to get out of there. He raced down another hallway and only belatedly realized that this one probably wouldn’t lead back to the stairs by the pier. He stopped then and was about to go back the way he came when he heard quite a bit of commotion on the other side of the nearest door. Bloodlust rose within him, and he was powerless from keeping himself from entering the room.

Whatever Zabuza expected to find inside, it wasn’t what awaited him within. The sounds alone would have been enough to turn his stomach, the wet slapping noise of flesh on flesh accompanied by grunts and half sentences like “take it,” and “good little whore.” But Zabuza found himself unfortunate enough to have the visual conformation of what those particular sounds meant.

Tied face down to the floor, a tattered and bruised boy that appeared to be no older than fifteen or sixteen, was being roughly used. His neck was arched back at what was surely an uncomfortable angle, at best, as his long hair was brutally pulled by his attacker. Zabuza’s sudden entrance must have still been undetected, because the hurried thrusts continued unimpeded as he watched with bile rising in his throat.

The boy was biting his lip in an obvious attempt to control his pleas for mercy, and Zabuza could see where tears had run down his face and made clearly visible the places where they had cleaned away the dirt caked to the heart-shaped face. Cuts, bruises, and raw, abraded skin adorned almost all of the flesh that Zabuza could see was stretched painfully tight over protruding bones. There was no way that this hadn’t happened to the boy before.

Memories bombarded him then, but they were flashbulb quick, and he had no desire to linger over any of them. And it was an often enough occurrence anyway. Those faraway scenes visited him on a fairly regular basis anyway, but returning to what was essentially his homeland had just increased the frequency. But still they had him frozen with the intensity of their nostalgia, until the boy looked up at him.

Even while being brutalized unmercifully, he still possessed the instincts to notice Zabuza’s arrival, even while his attacker did not. Those huge, liquid eyes swung up to meet his gaze and Zabuza was disgusted by what he saw in them. Instead of the expected plea for help, they only held a calm acceptance of his fate.

A grimace twisted the boy’s startlingly attractive face then at an especially rough thrust and it reminded Zabuza that he was standing here watching the boy be raped when he not only had the power to stop it, but also had a mission to complete. He shook himself out of the horror of his own childhood and the stupor this boy’s plight had put him in, and moved forward silently.

Even as Zabuza approached, the man taking the boy was too wrapped up in his pleasure to notice what was going on around him until it was too late. His eyes went comically round and wide when he finally noticed Zabuza, but by then it was too late. Zabuza had already buried his knife to the hilt in his throat. Blood flowed out over the blade and Zabuza’s hand, and the assassin had the wild thought that he didn’t want any of it getting on the boy. So he kicked the corpse in the chest and sent it flying backwards away from him.

He stepped back a few steps with the intention of cutting the boy lose then, but those chocolate brown eyes found his again, and he was once more frozen. “Are you here to use me or kill me?” the boy’s musical voice floated to him then, and their meaning snapped Zabuza out of his trance for the second time this evening.

He’d thought he and this boy were alike, but now he could see that while he’d risen up and slaughtered those who tormented him; this boy would calmly lay there and accept the abuse inflicted upon him. “Neither.” Zabuza grunted in answer. The boy nodded then, apparently satisfied by the answer and looked down at the ropes binding his wrists to metal eyelets screwed into the floor.

Zabuza was already moving forward to cut the ropes, when the boy began to pull at them himself. In an incredible show of strength for someone in such a position, the ropes snapped under the pressure exerted on them, and the boy freed himself. Zabuza hated to admit it, but he was incredibly impressed and intrigued by the thought that there might be something more to this boy than met the eye.

The boy stood gracefully and regarded Zabuza with open curiosity, seemingly unashamed at his complete nudity. His head tilted up to meet Zabuza’s gaze and once again he spoke in the hauntingly musical voice, “I can see in your eyes that you and I are a lot alike.” The weight of his stare as well as his tone let Zabuza know that the boy knew the assassin had been assaulted as a child as well. But there was something more to what the boy was trying to say that Zabuza just couldn’t figure out.

The assassin didn’t want to hear anymore of what the boy had to say, so he pulled off his shirt then and handed it to the boy. Instead of sneering at the sweaty, bloodstained garment, he simply slipped it over his head. The ragged shirt was much too big for him, and Zabuza had no pants for him, but at least the shirt covered most of his nudity now. While Zabuza was still thinking, the boy wandered over to the dead man in the corner and started pulling at the pants that were still half on-half off the body.

Zabuza watched in amazement as the boy handled the corpse without fear or disgust and stripped him of the pants and then pulled them on over his thin, bruised legs. The pants hung on his malnourished frame, but the boy was on top of that too. One of the ropes that had been binding him to the floor now became a belt at the boy looped it around his slender waist. He looked up at Zabuza then and there was some silent communication then that Zabuza wished he could have stopped the flow of.

“My name’s Haku.” The boy said simply, and Zabuza again fervently wished he wouldn’t have. Knowing his name made it real. He was really about to take this boy out of here, attempt to keep him safe and protect him until they could get away. These were pledges he’d never made to anyone, and they were far too serious for Zabuza. Protection and safety were all he had to offer someone now, and he kept those things very close to himself. He’d never offered them to anyone before, because he’d never wanted to offer anything of himself before. And now here he was offering both to a tattered, torn scrap of a boy who didn’t even look like he could survive the trip down the stairs, what the hell was he thinking?

“Zabuza.” He ground out feeling his anger at Haku and himself rise. What could he possibly gain from this? What the hell was he going to do with the boy once he got them to safety? The boy had seen him kill, he couldn’t just let him lose and always be worried that someone out there knew his secret. So then he’d have to kill the boy, which defeated the whole purpose of taking him to safety. He ignored the part of his brain that screamed at him to keep Haku with him, that he could be useful on missions.

He simply walked out the door then, he didn’t want to have to tell the boy to follow. Let it be Haku’s choice to him or not. He barely heard the soft barefooted steps behind him letting him know that the boy was still with him in this crazy run. He looked back over his shoulder and the boy smiled accommodatingly at him, so Zabuza figured it was his call. “Run.” He commanded the boy and he barely saw the small dip of the boy’s head that indicated agreement before he was off.

They raced down the hallway as quickly as possible. Zabuza was pretty sure there wouldn’t be anymore trouble, because he heard no noise, but he couldn’t afford to take many chances. Haku looked like he was keeping up fine, but he didn’t know if the boy was in any condition to fight, or even if he could. Zabuza could hear the tick of a clock internally as his mind counted down and screamed reminders at him that he’d planted explosives that were about to blow. They had to get the fuck out of here.

They were nearing the stairs where he’d come up when a startled cry from Haku made him scramble to a stop. As he turned he saw that one of the remaining gangsters had grabbed the boy around the throat and was pressing a wicked looking blade against the tender skin below his Adam’s apple. Anger bubbled up inside Zabuza and he was surprised by it. What did he care if this boy lived or died? He didn’t have time for this. He had to run with or without Haku.

Even as those thoughts were forming in his mind, the music that was always hovering on the edge of his thoughts cued up again and he was moving toward the pair. But it wasn’t necessary. Before he could even reach them, Haku was stomping on his attacker’s foot and using the element of surprise to gain the upper hand. Zabuza watched with mild surprise as the boy flipped his attacker over his body.

As the man fell to the floor, the impact caused him to lose his grip on the knife. As the blade clattered away somewhere down the hall, Haku reached down and pulled the man’s head up just enough to get a good grip on it. He twisted sharply and cracked the man’s neck. He released his grip as soon as the man was dead and rose gracefully to his feet. It all happened so quickly that Zabuza wondered who had trained the boy to be such an efficient killer.

As soon as he was standing again, Zabuza noticed the blood on Haku’s neck. His earlier actions had caused the man to slice into the flesh at his neck anyway. It was a stupid risk to have taken, but it had paid off. The other man was now dead and Haku wasn’t. Yet. Zabuza had no way of telling how deep the gash was, the boy could bleed to death in the next thirty seconds for all he knew.

“Your neck,” he grunted at the boy. Haku reached up and wiped at the slice distractedly, and looked faintly surprised when his hand came away sticky with blood. “It’s fine.” He said and then looked up at Zabuza with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun for brilliance. Zabuza for the life of him couldn’t figure out what the kid was so happy about, they were running for their lives and he could be bleeding to death, what the fuck was he doing acting like a goddamned ray of sunshine?

“We need to move,” he ordered and Haku’s smile never faltered. “Of course,” the boy whispered in that singsong voice that did funny things to Zabuza’s equilibrium. They began running again, and this time reached the stairs without incident. They both rushed down taking them two at a time. They ran toward the pier and without hesitation, Zabuza jumped into one of the boats docked there.

Haku didn’t wait for instruction, he simply went to untie the rigging before pushing the boat away from the dock some and then jumping in himself. Zabuza thought to himself that if the kid’s objective was to prove to him that he wasn’t useless, than he was doing a pretty good job. In fact, Zabuza’s mind was already spinning with possibilities of how he could use the boy on his future assignments.

He reached down then with the intention of hotwiring the boat and almost laughed when his hands instead found the keys in the ignition. He started the boat then and idled away from the pier, as soon as he’d made it out into more open water; he throttled it and began to speed away. His timing couldn’t have been better. Seconds later, the first of the explosives he’d planted detonated and destroyed the row of boats they’d just been next to.

They were far enough away that the explosion wasn’t a threat to them, but Zabuza could still feel the heat from the blast so he knew it had been close. He looked over at Haku to see how the boy was taking all of this. The boys dark eyes were locked onto the compound and Zabuza watched as the second round of explosives he’d planted inside the house caused a burst of fire that was reflected in Haku’s eyes.

The boy closed his eyes then and fell to his knees. Zabuza was at a loss as far as what to say to the boy then. He knew the nights events had to have been stressful for the teen, but he couldn’t bring himself to offer any type of comfort, it wasn’t in his nature. Besides the world wasn’t a comfortable place, what would he offer the boy that wasn’t fleeting and wouldn’t evaporate the way all of the comforts in his own life had evaporated?

Zabuza slowed the engine then. Now that they were far enough away that they couldn’t be harmed by any of the explosions, he wanted to be able to navigate the complicated swamps without difficulty. At the change in speed Haku looked up at him then, there was a request shimmering in those eyes, but Zabuza couldn’t read what it was. The boy began speaking then, and Zabuza found that he was mesmerized enough by that godforsaken voice that he actually listened to the boy’s words without interrupting.

“I was sold to them. My father was a gambler who owed them a large sum of money. I was payment for that debt. My time there was not always pleasant, but I was happy. I was useful to them, and to my father. It was my purpose to protect him, the only person who was precious to me, from the harm they would have inflicted on him if I had not done so.” Haku’s face was heart-breakingly serious, and Zabuza was angry beyond belief that Haku allowed himself to still love and desire to protect his father after what he did to him.

Before Zabuza could think of something suitable to say in response, Haku was continuing, “I have no purpose now. There is nothing for me, I have no where to go. Let me stay with you, let me help you, or kill me.” God, the kid was a bit of a drama queen wasn’t he? Zabuza himself held no flair for the dramatic, and so therefore harbored no affection for it either.

“Kid, I’m not going to kill you, but you can’t come with me either. I don’t need a partner, or a friend. Life with me won’t be fun, or fulfilling in anyway. I have no use for the comforts of life, and I won’t provide them either. I’m an assassin, I’m sent to kill, and I do my job. I like my job, I like killing, and it makes me happy. Compassion and mercy have no place in my life, what makes you think that you want to be a part of that?”

That megawatt smile returned then, and it made something in Zabuza open just a tiny bit, and the raw feeling it left in its wake was surprising in the way it created a pleasant ache in his chest. “I don’t need compassion or friendship from you Zabuza. I just need a purpose for my life. Use me as you see fit, think of me as a shield to place between yourself and danger. I will gladly give my life in place of yours, just take me with you, don’t leave me behind like a useless, broken tool.”

He should’ve told the boy no. He knew he should have, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. The manipulative, controlling bastard within him wanted to use this boy so badly. He wanted to take him and break him and to drain him dry of everything he had to offer Zabuza. The madness within him swirled and shifted and it turned the music in his head up full blast, ‘I control you… I enslave you…’ And with the pounding beat echoing in his ears as he maneuvered the boat through the murky waters that were so symbolic of his life, he uttered the three words that would change his life forever, “Well said boy.”

A/N: I’m quite positive that you guys are sick of hearing from me after the rant I posted above; however, this A/N will be much more pleasant I promise. To anyone out there who can guess what band Zabuza is singing along to in this, drop your guess in a review, the first one to be correct gets a prize! And for the love of god will someone please go review my Gundam Wing story please!!!! I hate begging for reviews, but it's been up for like three months with no reviews, at all. I love that story so much, and I actually had two sequels planned, but now I just don't know, I'm starting to think it sucks. I'm sorry forgive me, I've just been so stressed lately that I'm feeling really insecure right now. Just ignore me completely why dontcha! It would probably be less hazardous to your sanity.