Unbalanced (The Scales Need Two)
~*~*~*~~*~
Adjusting the IV drip, Madara soothed his young patient's hair back from her forehead, giving her an uncommonly gentle smile. She was only 13, but had been here for almost a week after having persistent bouts of unexplained seizures. “Enjoy your nap, Kaya?”
She smiled weakly. Initially, she had been nervous around him. Most new patients were. But it hadn’t taken long for her to warm up to him, seeing as he was the one in charge of her care. “It was good,” she said with a huge yawn. Smiling to himself, he absentmindedly fluffed the pillows behind her head.
“Mom and dad, how you holding up?” he asked, glancing over at her parents, sitting in the chairs on the side of the room. Her father was reading a magazine, and her mother knitting something with red yarn. She looked up with a smile.
“Oh, we’re doing quite alright, Madara. Did you enjoy your weekend?”
“Mhm, it was busy.” He examined the latest readings on her vitals. “Charge nurse said you haven’t had an episode for a while now, right?”
“It’s been almost two days,” Kaya beamed. “I can go home soon!”
“If you don’t have another seizure in the next however many hours,” he reminded. He poked around a few more things, but Kaya had been stable lately, so there wasn’t much to worry about. It would be a nice, quiet shift.
At least, that’s what he thought; until the white alarm light in the corner of the room started flashing, and an automated woman’s voice sounded out over the PA.
’All staff, be advised: Code Purple is now in effect. Repeat, Code Purple is now in effect. Report to unit charges and initiate code protocols.’
Code Purple? It took him a moment to remember what that was; it was such a rare code to be called.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered, turning. Kaya’s mother put down her knitting with an alarmed expression as he flew around the room, unlocking the cabinet with Kaya’s anti-seizure meds and prepping three syringes.
“Madara? What’s going on? What’s Code Purple?”
“Nothing good,” he replied, capping off the needle tips. One he shoved into his back pocket, and the other two he handed to her father. “If she starts to have an episode, inject one of these into her IV line right away. Lock and barricade the door behind me, and don’t let anyone in, understand? And if someone manages to break it, Kaya, play dead, mom and dad, lock yourselves in the bathroom.”
“What is happening-”
“Do as I say,” he snapped, and she looked taken aback at his tone. He didn’t let himself feel guilty, and inhaled deeply. “Lock the door,” he repeated. “Don’t let anyone in.”
With that, he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him. The Acute floor was in chaos. Nurses and care aids bustled patients into their rooms, locking them in safely. Kenara was stalking around with a fierce scowl on her face, snapping orders and directing others in a no-nonsense tone.
Hikaku hurried towards him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to the side to avoid the busy crowd. “I don’t think this hospital has ever had a Code Purple in all its history,” he muttered.
“Well, hospitals aren’t exactly a common place to break in with a weapon or to take a hostage,” Madara replied, eyeing the busy crowd. “Come on.” He elbowed his cousin, weaving through the health care workers and patients. He and Hikaku helped sequester everyone safely in their rooms. “Do we have any idea where this psycho is?”
“Nope.” Hikaku paused, glancing over and eyeing the Acute care floor.
“Doesn’t matter where they are,” Kenara said, locking some files with the key ring at her belt. “Hikaku, get the unit front doors.”
“Yes ma’am.” With a two fingered salute, he trotted down the hall to the Acute unit doors. On the other side of the unit, another care aid secured the second entrance. Madara watched his cousin scurry down the hall towards the doors.
He had only made it a few steps when a group of masked men rounded the corner of the hall leading down to the SubAcute wing, all of them armed.
“Hikaku,” Madara hissed, surging forwards to grab his cousin by the shoulders and yank him to the side, nearly tackling him into the unit cubicle and shoving at him until they were both crouched behind the desk. Madara slapped a hand over Hikaku’s mouth to quiet his shocked gasp, holding a finger to his lips meaningfully.
The men made their way into the unit, and Madara watched their progress in the dome mirror in the corner of the ceiling as they advanced, weapons trained on the hospital staff. As charge nurse, Kenara edged her way to the front, scowling mightily, and Madara had to admire her guts.
“What business do you have here?” she asked, disguising the nerves in her voice well. But it was there: a shaky undertone of fear cleverly hidden. The man in the lead turned his gun on her.
“Hands up,” he barked, advancing. “All of you!” Kenara obediently raised her hands, but didn’t back down. The rest of the staff followed her lead, obediently lifting their hands to their heads, nervously eyeing the weapons trained on them. “Now, no one has to get hurt here, if you all just do as we say.”
“Then what do you want here?” Kenara pressed.
The man in the lead grabbed his mask, ripping it off his head with a deranged grin, oily black hair falling loose and shaggy around his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and glinted with a light of madness. The familiarity sent cold shivers racing down Madara’s spine.
Jiro. “I’m looking for a certain someone,” he drawled. “Perhaps you know him? A Madara Uchiha?”
Hikaku’s fingers dug painfully hard into Madara’s arm, and his cousin stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. Madara pursed his lips, giving him a reassuring pat on the knee, and started to rise from his crouch.
“No!” Hikaku hissed, clinging to him and pulling him back down. “Madara, you can’t!”
“Hey,” Madara whispered back, glancing up at the mirror again. “It’s fine, Hikaku, I-”
“There is no Madara Uchiha here,” Kenara said, loud and firm. “He is not scheduled on this unit today. Have you tried the emergency room?”
Jiro frowned, glancing around at his men. “I do believe you’re lying to me,” he growled. “I know he’s here. Tell me.”
“I cannot tell you what I don’t know,” Kenara replied, shaking her head.
Jiro’s snake-like eyes narrowed, and he jerked his head meaningfully. At the silent order, the men behind him fanned out, starting to prowl down the unit halls, trying all the locked doors and then moving onto the next. Hikaku’s fingers tightened even further.
With a meaningful look, Madara tilted his head to the side, grabbing Hikaku’s wrist and gently tugging him a few feet over so they were kneeling behind another desk. One of the men had split off from the rest, and was heading towards the end cubicle that they were ducked into. If he were to turn into it…well. The unit was set up in such a way that by the unit charge desk, where Kenara and Jiro argued, you couldn’t see into this cubicle. That would come in handy.
He elbowed Hikaku, pointing to the mirror. Hikaku glanced up, watching the man’s advance, then gave him a questioning look. Madara walked his fingers on the floor, turned, and then made another few gestures. Understanding dawned on Hikaku’s face, and he nodded. Slowly, quietly, he shuffled to the side so he was crouching right beside the edge of the desk; out of sight of the approaching man, but within striking distance if he decided to round the corner and enter the cubicle.
They waited in tense silence as Kenara continued arguing with Jiro and his lackey prowled down the hall. Quietly, Madara pulled the syringe from his pocket, uncapping the needle. The man paused on the other side of the desk. If he were to lean over, he’d see Hikaku kneeling on the other side of it.
Fortunately, he didn’t; instead, he took a few more steps forward and came around the corner of the cubicle. Hikaku adjusted his stance a little. Then, as the man passed by the desk, he lashed out, tripping the man’s ankles between his legs. Surprised, the man flailed for balance, and Madara surged up from his hiding spot, covering the man's mouth and nose with one hand, and stabbing the needle into his neck.
The man jerked, his curse muffled behind his hand as Madara slowly lowered him to the ground, the anti-seizure meds already kicking in. Fast acting and brutally effective, the drugs instantly blocked the connections between nerves and muscles, temporarily paralysing him.
Hikaku shuffled over to help him quietly drag the motionless man further into the cubicle, shoving him under a desk. Then he grabbed Madara’s chin in a surprisingly tight grip. “You have to get out of here,” he whispered. Madara frowned.
“What? No. Hikaku, I can’t-”
“Damn it, Maddy, I won’t watch you die in front of me. I-”
A gunshot suddenly rang out, and a few screams accompanied it. Madara instantly looked up at the dome mirror. Jiro had shot out a light, apparently impatient with the lack of progress he was making with Kenara. “Where is he?!” he roared, and struck her in the face.
To her credit, Kenara didn’t cry out. She turned with the blow, taking a step back and straightening. Lifting one hand, she wiped a trail of blood from the corner of her mouth, wincing.
He couldn’t sit aside and watch any longer. Twisting away from Hikaku, he grabbed the gangsters abandoned gun, checking the magazine and cocking it. His cousin grabbed for him, but he dodged his reaching hands, standing up and gliding out of the cubicle.
“I won’t ask you again!” Jiro was snarling, pressing the barrel of his gun under Kenara’s jaw. “Tell me, right now, or I’ll-”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Jiro,” Madara drawled, with far more confidence than he felt, strolling down the hall as casually as he could, training his stolen gun on Jiro. He and his men whirled about to face him. “Whatever brings the unpleasant surprise of your visit?”
Jiro’s face broke into a deranged grin, and he shoved Kenara away, turning to aim his gun at Madara as he advanced.
“Ahhh, there you are, kitten. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“How….dedicated of you,” Madara said coolly, pausing a few feet away, doing his best to stay calm, despite the gun being pointed at his face and the other men with Jiro directing their weapons at his colleagues.
Jiro’s black eyes looked him up and down. “You look different in these settings,” he drawled. “Not quite so…..scandalous, for one thing. Not so dangerous, either. Where’s your little knives?”
“Do you miss them that much?” Madara taunted, smirking. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re still favouring your right arm. Still healing, is it?”
Jiro blanched with fury. “Bitch,” he hissed. Then he regained his composure, and curled his lips into a mockery of a smile. “Oh, but I came here for a reason, and your pretty face won’t be able to bend me to your will like Tobirama.” He stalked forward, the gun in his hands shifting to point at his chest. “Drop the gun.”
“You drop it first.”
“It doesn’t work that way, kitten. Although I am impressed you managed to slip past Eiichiro so quietly. Where is he now?”
“Taking a nap,” Madara replied, glancing at his group. There were 5 men now, 6 if you include Jiro. Two had their weapons trained on him, and the other 3 were pointing them at Kenara and his other co-workers.
Jiro quirked an eyebrow. “I see. Drop the gun.”
“I will if you will.”
Jiro curled his lip, then abruptly aimed off to the side, and shot a health care aid in the leg. He shrieked with pain, crumpling to the ground and clutching his thigh. Blood poured out between his fingers. “The next one goes between his eyes, pet. Drop it.”
Damn it. This was….less than ideal. If it were just him, he wouldn’t. But he had other people at risk here, other people’s safety and lives to think about. And the worth of his pride didn’t compare.
Relenting, Madara lowered the gun, clicking the safety on and automatically removing the magazine, tossing them to the side. As soon as the gun was out of his hands, one of Jiro’s men slipped forwards, glaring at him the whole time, and roughly cuffed his hands together. The metal was cold and biting against the skin of his wrists.
“What are you doing here, Jiro?” he asked, forcing himself to focus, and resisting all his instincts to go to the care aid and help. Another nurse was already slowly edging towards him, carefully eyeing the guns trained on the staff. “What do you want?”
Jiro’s lips twisted, and his face darkened.
“You,” he growled, taking a few steps closer, until barely a foot separated the guns they both held. “You are becoming a problem, Uchiha, one that I don’t appreciate.”
“I’m happy to be of service,” Madara mocked, smirk returning. “Care to explain?”
Jiro puffed up angrily. “You’re getting in the way!” he hissed. “You ruined my contract with the Senju, you’ve weasled your way into Tobirama’s favour, and you interfered with my little revenge plot.”
He arched his brow arrogantly. “What revenge plot? I don’t recall ever bothering you after the club.”
Jiro sneered. “Saving that useless brother of his. Kawarama.”
Madara frowned, slightly taken aback, until he realised something. “You targeted Kawarama on purpose?”
“Of course I did! You think it was an accident that the brat just happened to run into the wrong person, who just so happened to use a difficult to acquire poison? The kid was meant to die a slow, painful death, but you got in the way. You and that stupid little ‘team’ you assembled. Rest assured, kitten, I will be hunting them down as well, and they’ll die just as slowly and painfully as you will.”
Madara stared at him. “How do you know that?” he asked slowly, thoughts racing. “How do you know what I did, or who I called for help?”
Jiro smirked coyly. “I didn’t survive this long under Tobirama’s good graces for no reason.”
He stiffened at the implication. “You have an informant,” he discerned. “Someone on the inside. That’s how you know.”
“Awww, not just a pretty face,” Jiro mocked. “Seeing as you’re about to die, yes. I have a man on the inside. I am no fool, kitten. Unlike you. You should have known better than to get tangled into all of this. Such a shame. You had so much potential. You could have gone so far.”
He took a step forward, jabbing the barrel of his gun up under Madara’s jaw. “I don’t know all those on your team yet, but it will only be a matter of time before they join you in the afterlife. And once you’re dealt with, well…. Tobirama will have no one to save him.”
The gun was cold against his skin, and he tilted his head a little bit to alleviate the pressure under his jaw. “So you’re here to kill me,” he said quietly, as the gravity of the situation hit.
Jiro hummed. “Yes. I’d say it’s nothing personal, if you hadn’t rendered my arm useless for weeks. But really, killing you will hurt Tobirama, and that’s my end goal. Although ....” He looked him up and down, his lips curving cruelly. “Maybe I ought to give him a puzzle to sort out when I’m done with you. Maybe I ought to slice you up pretty, give you some marks to match his, and the scars the two of you put on me. Or….” He leaned forward, and jabbed the gun up again. “Maybe I should take his pleasure from him. Maybe I should fuck you the way he does. Perhaps I should record it, send it to him with your body once I’m done with you, show him that I took you from him in every way.”
Madara scowled, annoyed despite the fate he was facing. “It’d be a poor attempt at an insult, seeing as I’ve never let him do that.”
Jiro laughed. “Even better! I’d take you and ruin you and taint you before he ever got the chance to taste his pet.” He stepped even closer, so there were just inches between them. “Alas, as pleasurable as I’m sure that would be, I am on a tight schedule today. So I’m afraid you will just have to die instead. You should be grateful, really. And I will enjoy it, so take a measure of comfort knowing that your death brought about some good.”
Theoretically, he could twist away, sidestep, try to knock his aim off before he could pull the trigger. But realistically? No one could move faster than a bullet, and even if he managed to succeed, there were 5 other men to worry about. His hands were tied, literally.
Besides….It was better if he died instead of trying to weasel his way out and put his coworkers and patients in danger.
“Know that you will bring me pleasure with this, kitten,” Jiro drawled, adjusting the gun just a little more, finger resting heavy on the trigger. Despite knowing it won’t do any good, Madara stiffened, steeling himself and automatically closing his eyes.
“The only one getting pleasure from any of this will be me, maggot.”
The new voice was familiar, loud, and furious.Jiro snarled out a curse, grabbing Madara by the base of his braid and roughly spinning him around, stepping up right behind him, and shifting his gun to press it against Madara’s temple, his other arm looped tight against his throat. But he barely registered it, staring wide eyed at the new arrivals. In all honesty, he never expected to see him again, seeing as he was fully expecting to die in the next few seconds.
Stalking up the unit halls with all the fury and grace and danger of a panther, Tobirama stormed towards them, gun in hand and aimed steadily at them. Behind him were his closest men, his inner circle, all armed to the teeth and looking as agitated as a pack of wolves.
Tobirama’s red eyes were dark, glacial with fury. They briefly flicked to Madara, to the injured care aid on the floor, to Kenara and the other staff hovering around. Jiro’s men turned their guns from the staff to Tobirama and his crew.
A standoff; tense and hostile, in the middle of the Acute Care unit hall.
“Tobirama-san,” Jiro crooned, his voice raspy in Madara’s ear. “What an unpleasant surprise!”
Tobirama curled his lip into a snarl. “Jiro,” he said coldly. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this.”
“I don’t need to explain anything to you!” Jiro seethed back, taking a step away and pulling Madara with him. “I can do as I please!”
“Did you really think you could just waltz in here and threaten my own?” Tobirama countered, keeping his gun trained on them.
“I didn’t think you cared enough to show up.” Jiro shoved the barrel of the gun hard against Madara’s temple. “Clearly I was wrong about your dedication to your pet. But that makes this all the sweeter, doesn’t it?” His voice dropped, dripping with sickly delight. “I kill him, and I’ll destroy you, won’t I? I kill him, and I dismantle your pride, your power. I show the damn world that you’re not invincible! How many challengers would the Senju syndicate have knocking on their doorstep then, huh? You can’t even save your lover, so how could you stand to face your enemies knowing you’re so weak? Face it, Tobirama. I’ve already won.”
“Choose your next move very, very carefully,” Tobirama hissed. “Don’t be a fool, Jiro.”
Jiro laughed harshly. “I am anything but a fool! At the end of the day, your precious organisation will crumble around you! And I would have succeeded in tearing you down, in destroying you. This couldn’t have worked out more perfectly for me!” He curled his arm a little tighter around Madara’s neck. “And I don’t give a damn about the consequences.”
Tobirama’s glare hardened, and he glanced over at Madara very slightly. Jiro’s gun pressed harder against his temple. “I don’t give a damn,” he repeated, louder, firmer; with conviction.
Jiro wasn’t walking out of this, and he knew it. And he intended to go out memorably.
Subtly, Madara raised his cuffed hands a few inches, tapping himself on the abdomen. Tobirama’s eyes flicked down, just briefly, observing the moment, and darting back up to his face. Madara gave him a tiny, subtle nod. Tobirama’s eyes widened, as he remembered a previous conversation, and understood Madara’s request.
( ”Did you know that if you’re careful, you can shoot right through someone and only do minimal damage?” Madara had said randomly. “Obviously, you’d need a large enough diameter bullet and a strong enough gun, but it happens. Although, it’s nearly impossible to guess where all the internal organs are that you want to avoid…… It’s all just a guess….” )
Tobirama shook his head, just a little, and Madara scowled, nodding again, small enough that Jiro wouldn’t notice. Either Tobirama listened to him, or Jiro would, unknowingly. And when it came down to it, he’d much rather have Tobirama do it.
“I’ve achieved my goal, in the end,” Jiro prattled on. “I’ve hurt you, in so many more ways that I could have dreamed. I call that a success. Screw the consequences.”
As he spoke, Tobirama met his gaze, and nodded back. Madara steeled himself, tensing automatically, and Tobirama lowered his gun a few inches, and fired.
The pain was instant, and mind-blowing, as the bullet ripped through him, tearing through and erupting out his back, piercing into Jiro. The man roared with pain, flailing back. The moment his arm slid away from Madara’s neck, he crumpled to his knees, pressing his bound hands against the bleeding wound on his abdomen.
Applying as much pressure as he could tolerate, he squinted at the chaos that erupted around him after Tobirama fired. The white haired Senju lunged forward, tackling Jiro to the ground and knocking his gun from his hand. Behind him, his inner circle burst into movement, swiftly and effectively disarming Jiro’s startled men and taking them down with an ease that was almost unnatural.
Pinning Jiro solidly to the ground, Tobirama leaned back, jabbing his fingers into the bullet wound in the centre of his abdomen and twisting cruelly. The man moaned, weakly trying to push him off, but the Senju was immobile.
“You should count yourself lucky,” he hissed, his tone low and dangerous. “You have no idea what I want to do to you. What pain and horrors I want to inflict on you, the waking nightmare your life would become. Fortunately for you, I have more important things to worry about, and tormenting a slimy worm doesn’t take any priority.” He adjusted his gun, pressing the barrel about an inch or so above the already existing bullet wound.
Curling his lip with disdain, he fired. Then he moved the gun up another few inches, and fired again. Once, twice, three, four more times, working his way up. Until Jiro was weakly gasping for breath, his gaze already becoming vacant.
Tobirama leaned forward, gazing into his dying eyes. “Know that you will bring me pleasure with this,” he mocked. And lastly, he shot him between the eyes, spraying blood in every direction.
For a moment, just a moment, he lingered, glaring down at the body of his rival. Then, he was pushing off from the floor, spinning towards Madara and dropping to the ground in front of him.
Staring into those alarmed red eyes, Madara was dimly aware of other hands on him; of Hikaku at his side and snarling something at Tobirama, of Kenara kneeling beside him, her cool hands pressed over top of his, trying to stem the flow of blood. He could hear his own heartbeat; startling loud, and much too fast.
Focusing his gaze was becoming harder with each passing breath, and each inhalation sent stabs of pain rippling up his chest. A nauseating feeling presented, fast and unrelenting, and automatically he hunched over a little further, hacking up a rough cough that came up wet with blood, which dropped from his lips to the steadily growing puddle on the floor.
’Oh. That’s not good.’
He stared at the pool of blood with an odd sense of detachment. Firm fingers gripped his chin, tilting his face up. “Hey,” Tobirama said, his voice low and gentle, a stark difference from the angry snarl it had been just moments before. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Madara grumbled, as snippy as he could manage through the pain. “You’re not the boss of me.” His voice came out wet, strained. ’That’s also not good.’
A hint of amusement glittered in Tobirama’s eyes, momentarily taking over the worry. “Ah, there’s my favourite little rebel. I know it hurts, just stay awake a little longer, okay?” He swiped his thumb under Madara’s lip, most likely smearing the blood steadily trickling out.
“I’ll do what I want,” he groused, rather weakly, letting the hands on his shoulders pull him back from his hunched over position. A familiar face edged in front of Tobirama, demanding his attention, and cool hands replaced the Senju’s warm ones.
“You’re a damn idiot,” Kenara said fiercely, pulling up the bottom of his shirt to get a better look at the bullet wound. “If you weren’t dying already I’d kill you myself! Damn it, kid, can’t you just think before doing something for once?!”
“Careful Kenara,” Madara rasped. “Keep talking like that and someone might think you actually care about me.”
“You’re a thrice cursed fool, brat,” she huffed back. “Now shut up and let us save your stupid ass.”
And Tobirama thought Madara had bad bed-side manners. Her hands pressed firmly against his stomach, and another set of hands carefully drew his away. The handcuffs around his wrists clinked quietly as they were undone and tossed aside.
A wave of vertigo washed over him, and he unwittingly slouched to the side, leaning against Hikaku. His cousin muttered something to him, but he didn’t catch it, more focussed on the dark clouds creeping along the edges of his vision, the sounds and the chaos all around becoming more distant and quiet.
’Excessive blood loss and traumatic injuries will do that,’ he thought distantly, before the creeping darkness finally took him, and the last thing he felt was strong arms sweeping under him and effortlessly hoisting him up before his weak grasp on his consciousness slipped.