Sovereign Colonies Marine Contras
The Marine Contra retreats further within the skyscrapers, attempting to distance himself from the unsettling screeches of over a dozen stray cats left to a gruesome fate. 'Perhaps it might've been an act of mercy to leave an explosive tag; if not for them, then at least that Anbu child in the archives or that kunoichi back in the alleyway.'
He perishes the thought, 'Nah... no point dwelling on the past or wasting my sparse supplies. However grim the circumstances, a glimmer must peek through this foreboding veil shrouding the bright side; the felines are an adequate distraction for retaining my clandestine presence among the shadows.' Their cries of agony peter out; if it's due to distance or death's cold yet merciful embrace, Jim tries not to think about it.
Silent as a ghost, he navigates the rooftops, vigilant of every shadow and dark corner. The wind groans through the ruins, mimicking the thousands of tormented souls roaming its streets. The mass murderer disregards the wailing dead in the distance as 'yet another ever-present reminder of my failure to those I swore an oath to protect.' He backtracks to the remains of a COMMS tower; after scavenging some cables and scrap metal in a storage scroll, Jim stumbles across a *potted* plant.
Upon closer inspection, all aspects, including its leaves, stems, and buds, are blue as a moonbeam in the winter sky. He harvests the herb before checking his inventory. He examines a pouch from the fallen kunoichi (Mantis); inside, there's a handful of shuriken, kunai, explosive tags, smoke bombs, and—a *green herb*. His eyebrows raise at the curious find.
He equips the new pouch to his inventory; he combines the green and blue herbs within a cigar before igniting the concoction using Lightning Release between his thumb and index finger. The moment he inhales, it hits him like a Shinra Tensei (Almighty Push) at point-blank. He exhales, holding the cigar near his face, staring in disbelief. The herb's potency is unfathomable; the effects of chakra exhaustion fade as the war criminal's reserves replenish.
He takes another hit, 'Was it that Konoha Kush? That Silly Iwo Illy? Maybe it's that Chigiri Sea-weed?' Jim wonders, exhaling the smoke. 'Could even be that Kumo Killer Green Bud or that Taki Toke Torpedo, or...' his face turns pale. 'Nothing similar exists near the homefront, nor can it by natural means!' He tries rationalizing other possibilities, but the more the fugitive speculates, the more evident the awful truth becomes, 'That infernal statue somehow got loose again! It's the only way nature-energy this potent can manifest and stabilize.'
It dawns on him the green herb species may be the Gedo Statue's remnants. 'Under normal circumstances, this would alarm anyone with even a basic understanding of tailed beasts—unless they're as baked as a potato...' Nonetheless, the sensation calms Jim enough to focus on his tertiary objectives. 'Although the vast barrier array prevents anything from entering or escaping, the survivors are an issue. They're dangerous enough on their own; likewise, the information they possess is an overriding concern.'
'Intel regarding the outbreak cannot reach the enemy; it's part of the fundamental reasoning behind destroying most communications networks and why this continent remains quarantined. Should the enemy breach containment, it won't be a matter of *if,* but *when* The Red Zetsu Scourge reaches the Great Shinobi Countries. There will be nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It will be the end of every living thing, everywhere, and the colonies will be for naught.' He takes another drag of the cigar, "Tch—yeah, you know… *save the world* kind of thing."
'Everything relies on a *Reverse Situation*, hunting the hunters, turning predators into prey. Top Hat Tobirama's buggery squads are after me, no doubt about it,' the Contra surmises, 'perhaps I can take advantage of this.' He recalls mist mixing with the smoke in the streets and the Anbu's killing intent saturating the air. Jim reflects upon his experiences of eliminating hunter-nin, recognizing the distinct ambush tactics corresponding with the Hidden Mist Jutsu. 'Though a few survivors escaping the sewers is no surprise, the Anbu from the archives and alleyway confirms my previous suspicions.'
FLASHBACK NO-JUTSU
Flames engulf the fuel depot; debris and burning bodies fly out the windows, landing on the fuel tankers and gas pumps.
END FLASHBACK
'And just how many of those poor bastards were waiting to ambush me in that fuel depot?' he wonders. His radio jammer interferes with a nearby signal. 'Considering the jammer's effective range, whether the enemy catches me pants down, shaft in hand or not, will be a surprise, regardless!' He uses the jammer to gauge the Anbu's relative location to his own, 'Moreover, I risk detection once they pinpoint the interference's origin.' He attaches a suppressor to his bolt-action rifle before loading the weapon.
A violent surge of chakra disrupts the mass murderer's concentration: the ground rumbles and shakes; buildings are swaying, then falling over around him. The Red Zetsu's hair-raising shrieks reverberate the surrounding region. Thousands spill from the skyscrapers and ruins in an endless stream toward the disturbance—a few blocks down, columns of magma spout into the sky. Countless spikes resembling bones erupt from the ground, skewering thousands of them upon the skeletal spires. Arcs of electricity dismember the legions of mutant hordes; there's a bright flash, then another, forcing him to cover his eyes.
The brightness subsides; Jim's visibility recovers. Lightning surges within the billowing twin mushroom clouds as half a city block collapses into the resulting craters, overflowing with lava.
The Red Zetsus pour onto the streets without hindrance in their unrelenting descent upon those unfortunate enough to draw their attention. 'If the limelight's elsewhere, it's not on me. Also, this saves me the trouble of hunting them down.' He gains a rough idea of how many Anbu personnel remain regarding the attack frequency and different chakra natures in use. The war criminal wonders, 'If there's a breach in the containment zone? If so, where and is it reusable? It's implausible for them to call in reinforcements if I maintain my current proximity, thus jamming their communication devices.'
He suppresses his chakra and follows the path of destruction while using the rifle's scope for reconnaissance. 'The devastation an opposing force leaves reveals their capabilities, tactics, and, to a certain degree, a modus operandi. When applying this information, reading, predicting, and outmaneuvering my adversaries becomes plausible.' He perseveres through the hellish landscape utilizing stealth to progress past the towering structures around him, 'The aftermath resembles an act of panic and desperation, rather than a demonstration of skill, or power.'
'Despite the Anbu being out of my effective firing range, even Kage-level shinobi will exhaust themselves before inflicting any discernible damage upon the hordes.' Jim prowls the ruins until he closes the distance, watching for potential weaknesses to exploit. He navigates around the abominations impaled upon the bone spikes while avoiding the flailing limbs, tentacles, and other odd, inhuman extremities trying to molest him. The PDI (Personal Data and Inventory) device on his wrist changes from red to orange; thus, the electrocardiogram-like apparatus, indicating the fugitive's chakra reserves, shifts from *danger* to *caution.* He creates two shadow clones after estimating the enemy combatant's location.
"Alright, get out there… You know what to do," the shadow clones disappear, leaving behind afterimages, both off to their respective tasks. Jim remains on high alert, looking over his shoulders at regular intervals. He finds a safe location to land, crouches next to a condenser, and pulls another storage scroll from his inventory. The Contra's hands shake as he stares at the scroll, 'Come on, Jimi. You can do this! Just focus, remain calm, and move slowly.' He adjusts the analog designator, then applies his chakra, "Gulp—I hate these goddamned things."
The blood on the storage unit interferes with the sealing formula's coordinates and releases its content danger-close. The mass murderer's jaw drops as a monotone groan emanates inside the smoke. His post-traumatic stress disorder resurfaces, triggering a horrific flashback.
FLASHBACK NO-JUTSU
He recalls his botched attempt at reverse engineering the Land of Earth's *Akuta Kinjutsu*: a technique that creates soulless living organisms made of clay. When applying genjutsu, these horrendous affronts to propriety are akin to invisible landmines shuffling around or waiting for the unwary to cross their path. A piercing chill slithers down the war criminal's spine as he remembers losing control over the ghoulish monstrosities after trying to stabilize them with *Earth Release Resurrection Technique: Corpse Soil* resulting in an infamous catastrophe known as *The Hyūga Incident*.
END FLASHBACK
'Holy hefty hippo hecklers humpin' a haggard Hyūga horn-dog haunting the Hindenburg!!' The smoke dissipates; a tall, gaunt figure stands, bones, and veins visible under its thin, brown skin. The ReDead wears an eerie wooden mask with two dark eye-holes and a third from where its creepy human-like teeth are visible. Much to Jim's dismay, he's in grabbing distance of the grotesque insult to Mother Nature. The fugitive is sweating bullets, shaking like a helpless mouse in a corner as a starving snake approaches. He considers himself fortunate (as well as many main house branch Hyūga) that the ReDeads are Ken doll smooth, thus lacking a discernible reproductive system.
Nevertheless, one wrong move and the ReDead will unleash a paralyzing shriek before slamming its genitalless nether regions into his face bowlegged, bearing no remorse. After composing himself, he eases his hands together. Jim crosses his index and middle fingers. He squints into those black voids obscuring the mindless creature's eyes, verifying they aren't glowing. It all boils down to a stalemate between himself and the deformed golem: The good, the Bad, and the Ugly.
However, given the ethical circumstances, he isn't sure who or what deserves which label. His heart pounds as refrigerant leaks from an adjacent condenser, almost mimicking the drumbeat and whistle from that *Clint Eastwood* movie. He channels chakra before inhaling the last of his mixed herb cigar, praying he can outspeed the ReDead before it grabs him.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!!" he yelps with urgency. The ReDead's head snaps toward him; its eyes flash red. The zombie-like groans cease, indicating the man-humping ghoul is alert and ready to pounce. The ReDead outstretches its bony arms, reaching for the Contra. Before the deformed golem can unleash a paralyzing shriek, another shadow clone appears, encompassing and sealing the ReDead within its body. The duplicate convulses on the ground, struggling to gain control over the ReDead thrashing about. Its eyes glow and flicker before settling to Jim's familiar gilded irises, a sign the doppelganger is in total control.
The mass murderer sighs in relief before helping the replicate to its feet. He runs a diagnosis over the imitation to confirm everything regarding its limbs, central nervous system, and chakra network is functional. After a few questions regarding mobility and a quick field strip of the shadow-cloned rifle, Jim determines both fit for combat. While placing a Body Replacement Tag on the body double, several snarls of primal bloodlust draw their attention. The Red Zetsu's bloody flesh squelches against the surface as they scale the skyscraper.
The shadow clone deadpans, "Oh boy—here we go again."
"Lose as many Red Zetsus as possible before reaching the objective. I need *them* after me for this to work!" The war criminal realizes the duplicate is already gone. He rolls his eyes but follows suit, albeit at a slower rate. He bolts across the rooftops before leaping from a mutant's head; Jim flies through the air and lands on the next building.
The cannibalistic fiends tear across the rooftops after him, starving for the last bit of human flesh they can find. He gauges the Red Zetsu's speed at a minimum for high genin (junior/low ninja) to mid-level chūnin (journeymen/middle ninja). The fugitive concentrates chakra on his legs, accelerating past the high rise, sprinting down the windowpanes as more misshapen hands and inhuman extremities breach the glass, trying to rip him to pieces.
'Regardless of distance or location, Red Zetsu seems to detect uncontaminated organisms, not using chakra suppression techniques; if I'm lucky, maybe I'll have a few minutes rest before those things find me again.' He weaves in and out of the avenues, bottlenecking the roaring torrent of stale oily meat and greased lightning between the skyscrapers within the narrow alleyways. The zombie-like creatures leap off and around the ruins, tripping over themselves as they round the corners.
The Red Zetsus congest the streets and funnel across the immense, towering structures. Jim synchronizes a string of hand seals in a full sprint, creating stone obstructions that narrow his trail and dilute the mutant hordes into a thin trickle. The Contra's manipulation of Earth and Lightning Release delay the abominations rather than halt them outright; however, his destination is within eyesight. He approaches *The Gates of Fort Firestorm* with a feverish pace.