I don't own One Piece or Naruto.

The plan is for this fiction is that I'm going to go through at least an arc before beginning the whole story. This is because I'm going to try and recruit semi-OC's through the stories, at least two per arc. It'll be a while, but I think I'll get this story down. Wish me luck!

EDIT: BTW, the first 6000 words for this story is just the prologue for the latest arc, if you no like, then go to the end.

April 19
Monday, 7:52 P.M.
Somewhere in the Grand Line

Only those long-term residents of Mohara Island who were extraordinarily sensitive to the fickleness of the island's bicycle, traffic, pattern could tell that rush hour is finished and was now on the downward slope.

For Hasant Esthesia it was a typically frustrating, evening, commute in the city that he had lived in for his entire fourty-seven years. With a population of more than one and a half million on this small island, these bicycle traffic had to be tolerated, and Hasant, like everyone else, had learned to cope.

On this particular night he was ten more tolerant than usual since he was relaxed and content from having stopped for a visit with his favorite girl, Kuka.

In general, Hasant was a lazy, angry, and violent man who felt cheated in this life.

Growing up in an upper-class navy family, he felt his parents had married him down with a third-class woman, despite his father's obtaining a management position at the inlay's pharmaceutical firm as part of the union, while he was afforded a particularly well-paying sales manager position in place of his previous job, selling spices. The final blow to Hasant's self esteem came with his children: five girls, age twenty-twenty five, twenty-one, seventeen, fourteen, and eleven.

There had been one boy, but his wife had miscarried at five months, for which Hasant openly blamed her. In his mind she had done it on purpose by overworking as a harried medical doctor, practicing internal medicine at a public hospital.

He could remember the day as if it were yesterday. He could have killed her.

With that in mind, the frustrated Mohorian pounded his bicycle handles in exasperation as he glided into the reserved parking slot in the front of his parent's house, where he and his family lived. It was a soiled three-story concrete structure that had been painted white at some indeterminate time in the past. The roof was flat and the window frame were metal. On the first floor was a small office where his wife, Sonya, occasionally saw her few private patients. he rest of the first floor housed his aging parents. Hasant and his family occupied the second floor, and his younger brother, Marccino, and his family were on the third.

As Hasant was critically eyeing his house, which was hardly the style that he expected to b living in at this stage of his life, he became aware of a unknown vehicle pulling up behind him, blocking him in. He turned his head to the left, he had to squint against the vehicle's strange light. All he could make out through the hazy glare was a letter emblem, "M".

He heard of these strange machines, they were only used by those in the higher hierarchy class: cars.

"What the hell?" Hasant spat. No one was supposed to park behind him. He opened his bike rest and climbed from the bicycle with full intention of walking back and giving the car's driver a piece of his mind. But he didn't have to. The driver and two other passengers had already alighted and were approaching ominously.

"Hasant Esthesia?" The passenger in the lead stepped up. He wasn't a big man, but he conveyed an indisputable aura of hostile authority with his dark complexion, spiked hair, a "bad-boy" black leather jacket over a tight white shirt, exposing a powerful, athletic body. Almost as intimidating as the driver. He was huge.

Hasant took a reflexive step back as alarm bells began to sound in his head. This was no chance meeting.

"This is private property," Hasant snapped, trying to sound confident, which he clearly wasn't.

"That ain't the question," The one in the leather jacket began to crack his knuckles, "The question is: are you the piece of donkey shit called Hasant Esthesia?"

Hasant swallowed with some difficult. His interal alarms were now clanging with the utmost urgency. Maybe he shouldn't have hit the broad quite so hard. He looked from the driver to the second passenger, who'd priced to pull out a flintlock from his jacket pocket.

"I-I'm Hasant Esthesia," Hasant managed. His voice cracked, almost unrecognizable to himself. "W-What's the problem?"

"You're the problem." The one in the dark leather jacket pointed over his shoulder. "Get in the car. We've been hired to talk some sense into you. We're going for a little ride."

"I-...I-I can't go anyplace. My family is waiting for me and I need to put my bike somewhere-"

BANG!

He heard the tire of his bike seeping air out of the pressurized wheel as he began to shake.

"Oh I'm sorry? We're you not done? Please continue with your reasons why you can't come with us. We'll fix the problem for you." The one with the leather jacket mockingly bowed to the man. Like a court jester trying to please his king.

"W-Well...my family-"

"Oh right! Your family..."

Click.

The one with the gun had reloaded his ammunition and pulled the lock back, ready to shoot the small lead bullet into Hasant's pathetic looking body. "Speaking of family, that's exactly what we have to talk about. We were paid to have some few words with you about your little issue. So get in the care before Subara here loses control and shoots you, which I know he'd prefer to do."

Hasant was now visibly trembling. He desperately looked from one threatening face to the other, then down to the gun in Subara's hand. "Should I shoot him Sachin?" Subara asked, raising his flintlock at Hasant.

"See what I mean?" The one in the leather jacket, Sachin, questioned, spreading his hands, palms up. "Are you going to get in the damn car or what?"

Same time in a section of Mohora

On a busy business street, wedged between typical, three storied, reinforced-concrete commercial building wise façade were almost completely covered by signs in both graffiti and the language spoken native on this island as well as the dialect outside of the island, stood the starkly modern five-story Mįtñoü Hospital. In sharp contrast to it's neighbors, it was constructed of amber-mirrored glass and green marble. Named after the beloved island's goddess of life and jubilation, to appeal to the modern medical tourist as well as the rapidly expanding the island's upper middle class, he hospital was a beacon of modernity thrust into the center of Mohora's timelessness.

Also in contrast to its neighboring plethora of small businesses, which were, for the most part, still open, busy, and casting harsh blue-white fluorescent light into th street, the hospital looked bedded down for the night, with little of is soft, interior illuminationpenetrating the tinted glass.

Except for two tall, traditionally costumed, Mohorian doormen standing at either side of the entrance, the hospital could have ben closed. Inside the day was clearly winding down. As a hospital with no real emergency department, the Mįtñoü Hospital handled only scheduled elective surgery, not emergencies.

The soiled dinner dishes had one since been picked up, washed, and hidden away in their cupboards, and most of the visitors were gone. Nurses were handing out evening medications, dealing with drains and dressings from the day's surgeries, or sitting within bright cones of light at nurses' stations to finish up their computerized charting duties. After a hectic day involving thirty-seven major surgeries, it was a relaxed and quiet time for everyone, including the one hundred and seventeen patients.

Everyone except for Anna Esthesia.

While her father was being dragged out, to god knows where, Anna was struggling in the half-light of an anesthesia room in the empty operating-room suite, where the only light was filtering in from the dimmed central corridor. Anna was attempting with trembling fingers to stick the needle of a 10cc syringe into the rubber top of a vial of succinylcholine, a rapidly paralyzing drug related to the curare if Amazonian poison dart fame. Normally, she could fill such a syringe with ease.

Anna was an anesthesiologist, having graduated from the prestigious school of medicine back in Alabasta, where former doctors in Drum Kingdom taught almost six months ago. Following graduation she'd been under tutelage under Osamu Tezuka; although not really well known in the filed of medicines his work inspired many to become one, which led him and her back to Mohora after providing Anna with some specialized training.

Not wishing to stick herself with the needle, which could prove deadly, Anna lowered her arms for a moment and died to relax. She was a ball of nerves. She truly didn't know if she was going to be able to do way she'd been tasked with and had agreed to do. It seemed incredible that she'd been talked into it. She was supposed to fill the syringe, tasks it down to an occupant's room, where the elderly woman was hoped to be sleeping off the anesthesia from the hip-replacement surgery she'd had that morning, inject it into her IV, and then beat a rapid retreat, all without being seen by anyone.

Anna knew that not being seen by anyone on a nearly full hospital floor was highly unlikely, which was why she was still dressed in her nursing uniform she'd had on all day. The hope was the if someone did see her, they wouldn't think it odd she was in the hospital even though she works days, not evening.

To help her calm down, Anna closed her eyes, and the moment she did so she was instantly transported back four months to the last time her father had threatened her. They were at home, her father's parents in the living room, her mom at the hospital, and her sisters out indulging in saturday-afternoon activities with friends. Totally unexpectedly, he had cornered her in the bathroom.

While the television played in the next room, he began shouting then cursing at her. He was very clever in how he hit her, never leaving a mark other face. his rage was unexpectedly volcanic, and it was all Anna could no not to cry out. Since it hadn't happened for more than a year, Anna had assumed that the problem was over.

But now she knew that her problem would never be over.

The only way to escape her father's clutches was for her to leave the island permanently. Yet she feared for her sister. She knew he wouldn't be able to hold his urges, let alone control them. If she left, he would undoubtedly single out one of her sisters and start anew, and that she could not allow.

The sudden crash of metal against the composite floor brought Anna back to the present, her heart skipping a beat. Feverishly she stashed the vial and serynge in a drawer packed with IV needles. Suddenly the bright lights came on in the main corridor of the OR. With her pulse pounding, Anna went to the small wired glass window and glanced out. Within the darkened anesthesia room, she was confident she wouldn't be visible.

To the right she saw that the main doors to the outer hall were momentarily propped open. A second later two members of the janitorial crew appeared, wearing hospital scrubs. Both men carried mops. They picked up the empty buckets they'd dropped moments before and started down the corridor, passing within feet of Anna.

Relieved to degree that it was only a cleaning crew, Anna turned back ion the room and retrieved the vial and syringe. She was now more nervous than she'd been just moments earlier. The unexpected arrival of the janitors reminded her how easy it would be for her to be caught in the OR, and if she was caught, how hard it would be to come up with an explanation of what she was doing there. With her trembling even worse, she persisted and managed to guide the needle into the vial. Exerting negative pressure, she filled the syringe to the level she'd predetermined.

She wasted a good dose, but nothing too big.

Anna's short, unpleasant reverie had reminded her with painful clarity why she had to do what she'd been tasked with. She'd agreed to put to sleep a wealthy, aged, woman with a history of heart problems in return for a guarantee from her employer that her mother and her sisters would be protected int the foreseeable future from her abusive father. It had been a difficult chose of her, made impulsively with the idea that it would be only opportunity she would have to obtain any kind of freedom. Not only herself but also her friends, who had all joined this program at the same time.

Putting away the vial and throwing away the packaging from the syringe, Anna walked towards the door. If she was going to go through with this plan, she had to concentrate and be careful. Above all, she had to try to avoid being seen, especially near her victim's room. If she happened to be confronted in any there part of the hospital, she would explain that she'd returned that evening to use the library facility to study Maria Heijo's condition.

Anna cracked the door and sonly eased it open to get her head out to see up and down the corridor. Presently, several of the cleaning people could be seen chatting and mopping. As they had started at the very end and were working towards the doors, their backs were conveniently turned in Anna's direction. Stepping into the corridor, Anna let the door close gently before silently heading out of the OR area.

Anna didn't take long to get her to the patient's room.

To gather her resolve, Anna closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the concrete wall. Step by step, she went over what she was about to do to avoid any possible errors, thinking back to how she had reached this unimaginable point in her life.

4:52 PM

As an acculturated woman under the belief of the Cult of Domesticity, Anna recognized she had a powerful inclination to bow to male authority. When she joined the hospital, mainly for their promised help in her goal of having a double specialty and becoming an pediatric surgeon so that she can be finally freed from her father's clutches and take her mother and sisters away from him, she naturally treated Cliff Metes, one of the branch heads of a secret organization, as she was expected to treat her own father.

Unfortunately, this response was not without problems. As a typical thirty-two-year-old independent male, he interpreted Anna's culturally motivated attention and respect as a come-on, which created numerous episodes of misunderstanding. The situation was difficult for both of them and persisted because of a continued lack of communication. Anna feared of compromising her chances of becoming a pediatric surgeon and freedom of her father, and Cliff feared losing her because she was their best employee and the leader among the others.

At the end of each shift they were required to report to one of the four principals of the firm, President Cliff Metes, Vice President Petra Danderoff, Tech Head Durell Williams, or Psychologist Santana Ramos, whichever individual had hired the intern, nurse, or specialist in question. Anna had to report to Cliff because she had been his hireling some two months earlier, thanks to Dr. Tezuka's recommendation.

Each day Anna and the others were asked, in addition to their normal duties, to surreptitiously download reams of patient data from the central computers of the six private hospitals where they'd been hired out and bring it back and report it to their assigned administrator. As an explanation, they had been told that one of their primary functions for this was to obtain surgical outcome data. Why the organization was interested in such data had not been explained, and no one particularly cared. The complicated, clandestine effort seemed a small price to pay to be already compensated with ten times the salary of what their coworkers were being paid, and, more importantly, to be given the promise of being relocated to an another firm after their training and tasks was finished.

5:32 PM

"Come in." Already tense as usual, Anna sighed as she walked into Cliff's office that afternoon. The said man looked up from his tome and took off his glasses.

"Close the door behind you and sit down." He had magnified her anxiety as the anesthesiologist gulped. Farful of another seduction scene, Anna slowly done what she was asked to do. She twitched at the sound of the coo-coo-clock ticking above her, wondering what her boss wanted-

"I know whats going on," She blinked not understanding what he was trying to get here. "I-I know about the story of your father, and how he's extorting you." Slowly her eyes widened as his words began to sink in. Just how did he...

Stunned and humiliated, Anna silently and furiously cursed as frustration began to also mix into her cocktail of emotions. Samira, that bitch, she told him! That generic, broad-headed, dumb, jackass, maggot-filled bitch told him? Anna bend her head to the ground, feeling foolish for trusting that...that backstabbing whore.

"Look I-" She didn't want to hear it. Anna quickly stood up and marched towards the door, without even the faintest idea of where the hell she was going to go. All she know is that she didn't want to be here.

Cliff reacted fast, getting out of his seat the moment she did and grabbed her arm.

"Let go of me! Please!" Anna sobbed as she tried to tug away her arm from his grasp, but to no avail. Cliff pulled her close as he stared at her with worry in his eyes. "Just calm down for a sec, ok?" He appeased as he led her back to the sofa. "Just breathe, alright? Good, just like that. Deep breaths. Calm down ok? I'm not here to bash you or anything."

She did feel more calm as Anna finally controlled her emotions.

"Look what your dad did, it wasn't right. He has no right to do that. To someone's own daughter, that guy is the lowest of the lowest scums of this earth."

He wasn't condemning her? He wasn't blaming her for making her father mad? Somehow he read her mind as he suddenly glared at her, making Anna slowly sink lower to her seat. "Also, how dare you blame yourself for believing that it was your fault for thinking that you made your father like this. It's not your fault." His expression altered to sudden pity. "You deserve better than this, you should have told me this from the start. I would have done something the moment I heard an abuse being treated on my team."

"Y-You don't understand, my father-"

"Is nothing but a piece of shit." He finished as he shook his head. "Your father is nothing but garbage the moment he struck you. It's not fair for you, your mother or to your sisters."

"I-It wouldn't matter, my father would have somehow find a way, another way to hurt me. Hurt all of us."

"He won't. Not when I'm around he's not." Cliff promised her as he noticed how she was slowly trembling. "I can help-"

"No you can't."

"Yes I can," Cliff insisted, "This organization is more powerful than you think Anna." She involuntarily shuddered, still not used to her boss using first name bases, especially after the whole incident involving that one time. "Our organization can be a safe haven for those who are loyal to us, but at the same time a nightmare to those that are a threat. I can make your father never hurt you ever again. In fact, I can make your father never touch a single grain of your sister's or mother's hair ever again. All you have to do, Anna, is help us with our goals."

"B-But...what if he does-"

"Then he'll disappear. He'll vanish from the face of this planet, never to be found ever again."

This had to be some sort of joke. A terrible twist of faith. There was no way that this was happening. An opportunity to finally escape from her father's clutches? An opportunity to not only escape from her father's wrath, but gain protection to protect her mother and sisters? Something that a fictional story would have, where the hero is given an golden opportunity, an opportunity that is extremely hard to obtain by other means.

But...here he is, her boss, offering something that she can benefit immediately and not worry about her father anymore. The seriousness that Cliff was expressing was just, atmospherically, heavy.

It didn't take long for her to decide.

8:08 PM

Yet, staring at this door made her pulse quicken and her muscles tense.

She stopped and breathed, "It's for you family...do it for you family..." She muttered in a mantra as Anna somewhat regretted to impulsively agree with Cliff with this; but by now, he had already sent the mens to her father. Now she has to do her part of the job.

With a renew sense of determination to get the business over with and a clear idea of the sequence of vents she needed to follow, Anna took a deep breath. She then straightened up from where she was leaning against the wall, opened her eyes and checked again to be sure the corridor beyond was empty.

All was quiet.

Pushing the door open, she stepped in and returned the for to its near-shut position. Although the TV was on, the volume was low. The overhead lights were dimmed, causing the corners of the room to be lost in shadow. Anna had no trouble seeing who it was that she needed to - no it's better not to think about it.

The woman was fast asleep, with the head of her bed elevated about forty-five degrees. The fluorescent-like light emanating from the TV dimly illuminated her facial features while leaving her orbits in deep shadow, giving her a ghastly appearance, as if she were already dead.

Thankfully the woman was asleep, and wanting the anxiety producing affair over with as soon as possible Anna rushed to the bedside, pulling the syringe fro her pocket. She was careful not to nudge the noisy, metal bed rails as she reached for the IV line. She was also careful not to pull on it for fear of attracting the patient's attention and waking her.

Holding the IV port in one hand, she used her teeth to remove the needle cover. Then, holding her breath, she inserted the needle. When she could see the needle tip within the lumen of the IV line, she prepared to slowly depress the plunger.

But fate was not on her side.

For no discernible reason, the patient rolled her head in Anna's direction and looked up into Anna's face. A slight smile played across her lip.

"Thank you, dearie..."

Anna felt her blood run cold. Knowing she had to act that instant or she'd never be able to do it, she forcibly depressed the plunger of the syringe, shooting the bolus of succinylcholine into the patient's bloodstream. What had pushed her over the edge was sudden, inappropriate defensive anger that the woman had the insensitivity not only to wake up but to thank her, apparently thinking Anna was giving her medication to help her.

Although Anna hadn't seriously thought about what she'd be forced to witness after injecting the paralyzing drug, she was horrified by what she did see.

Contrary to a peaceful, cinema-like passing, which had been her general assumption and what Cliff had intimated, it was anything but. Within seconds the victim's body reacted to the large dose of succinylcholine with rapid fasciculation of her musculature. It started with her facial muscles giving her waves of grotesque facial contortions. Adding to the unexpected horror was the intense fear that clouded her eyes. As her hand lifted in a vain attempt to reach out to Anna for help, it too started to jerk about uncontrollably. And then came a sudden ominous, purple darkness that spread over her face like the shadow that seeps across the face of the moon during a lunar eclipse. Unable to breathe yet fully conscious, the victim was being rapidly suffocated and turning deeply cyanotic.

Horrified at what she had wright and wanting nothing more than to flee, Anna was forced by her guilt to remain rooted to her spot and watch her patient's death throes. Luckily for both it was soon over, as the victim's eyes gazed blankly out at eternity.

"W-What have I done?" Anna whimpered, "Why did she have to wake up?"

At last breaking free from her psychologically induced paralysis, Anna turned and raced from the room. Without even thinking of the consequences, she ran headlong down the hall, only vaguely aware that the nurses' station was still empty.

8:43 PM

"Ah!" Cliff exclaimed, catching sight of Anna. He let his legs fall from the sofa's arms. "That was fast! Is it done?"

Anna didn't talk. With a somber expression, she merely waved for Cliff to follow her and started back towards his library office.

When Cliff walked into the library, Anna was standing just inside the door. She closed it behind him, which he found curious. "What's going on?" For the first time he sensed something was decidedly wrong. He looked at Anna more closely.

From his perspective and most everyone's else, Anna Esthesia was an extraordinary beautiful combination of a hybrid race. With exotically shaped, strikingly dark-green eyes, she has dark brown hair that comes down to her collar in the back and is parted on the right. Her hair to the right of the parting is pulled back while the hair on the left comes down in long bangs. With a sleek, elegant and well-toned figure that matched with her golden bronze skin, lots of guys would practically throw themselves at her feet. Normally, she appeared quite peaceful. But not now. Her usually full, dark lips were pressed together and pale. Cliff couldn't tell if it reflected anger, determination, or some combination.

"Is it done?" he questioned again.

"It's done," Anna said handing him a keychain with a USB storage device containing the victim's medical record. "But there was one problem."

"Oh?" Cliff questioned, eyeing the storage device, wondering if it was the problem." Was there trouble getting the data?"

"No! Getting the woman's medical record was easy."

"Okay..." extending the word, Cliff looked at her unease at what the problem was.

"The patient woke up and spoke to me."

"So?" He could tell that she was highly upset but didn't think the fact that the woman spot with her was so unusual. "What did she say?"

"She tanked me." Tears welled up in her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked off, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Well, that was nice." Cliff tried to lighten to conversation.

"She thanked me just before I injected her," Anna added angrily. her eyes blazed as she turned back to Cliff.

"Calm down!" He half urged and half ordered as Anna scoffed.

"It's easy for you to say. You didn't have to look into her eyes or watch her face contort. You didn't tell me she was going to twitch grotesquely and turn purple as she suffocated in front of my eyes."

"I didn't know." Anna glared at Cliff and shook her head in apparent disgust. "The people who told me how to do it implied the patient would just die peacefully because they would be completely paralyzed."

"Well they lied."

"I'm sorry," Cliff shrugged. "I'm proud of you anyway. And like I promised, I heard just a few minutes ago that the conversation my colleagues had with your father went very well. They are very, very confident he will follow their advice to the letter. So from now on, you don't have to worry about him misbehaving with you, your sisters, or your mom. The men I sent are utterly convinced, but they're still going to check in every month or so to remind him he'd best behave. Your free."

For several beats Cliff returned Anna's glare. He had expected some positive reaction from her, but it wasn't forthcoming. Just when was about to question why she wasn't more pleased to be fee, she shocked him by hurling herself at him. Before he knew what was happening, she grabbed his shirt at the collar with both hands and proceeded to tear it pen. Buttons popped off with explosive force.

Reflexively, Cliff grasped her forearms but not before she peeled his shirt back from his shoulders and caned it down. At that point in utter confusion. Cliff het her pull his shirt completely off, ball it up in a tight bundle, and toss it to the side. He tried to catch her eyes in hope of some explanation, but she was too preoccupied. Without a second's hesitation, she put both her palms on his bare chest and pushed him stumbling backward until his heels slammed up against the foot of the couch. His knee buckled, and he ended up sitting on the couch.

Still without hesitation or any explanation, she attacked his belt and zipper and after grabbing both cuffs, the pants went in the direction of the shirt.

"What the hell?" Cliff questioned as she unabashedly slipped her thumbs inside the waist band of his briefs. His athletic body in all its glory was in full view. This was beyond even his most lascivious fantasy. it was true that Cliff had been attracted to Anna Esthesia from the moment he'd interviewed her nine weeks earlier and had pursued her sexually but with no luck.

He had been perplexed, having been voted exist man in his high school graduating class as well as valedictorian, and with similar accolades at his graduation school, Cliff had never lacked for female companionship and sex, which he thought of as a sport. But he'd never made any headway with Anna, which was confusing, since she always acted as if she truly cared for him, with small favors and special consideration.

"Why are you doing this?" Cliff demanded with uncamouflaged bewilderment, although he wasn't about to tell her to stop. At the moment, Anna was rapidly unbuttoning her nurse's uniform. She had now locked eyes with Cliff and her expression was one of angry determination. For the first mine since he'd met her, the thought went through Cliff's mind that she might be truly emotionally unbalanced. the fact that he'd learned just that day that he'd been victimized for sixteen years by her father was not lost on him.

Anna didn't speak as she stepped out of her uniform. Nor did she take her eyes from Cliff's as she undid her bra and set her shapely breasts fee. In contrast, Cliff let his eyes drop to take in the full glory of Anna's nakedness. Cliff had known she had a knockout bay from seeing her in a modest bikini when they'd brought the nurses, interns, and other specialists to Jaya for a timely vacation, but this was infinitely more captivating.

Still, Anna did not speak, nor did she slow down. The second she was out of her clothes, she advanced on Cliff, straddled him, and directed him inside. She then proceeded to put her hands on his shoulders and to rock rhythmically.

Cliff raised his eyes to hers. She was still glaring at him with the same determined expression. If it hadn't been so pleasurable, he would have thought she was punishing him for her experience that night at the hospital. Without any let up on Anna's part, Cliff soon lost voluntary control and climaxed. When Anna still didn't stop, Cliff had the urge her to do so. "You have to give me a rest," He managed.

Anna responded immediately by climbing off, and without even a moment's hesitation began dressing. Her facial expression still had not changed.

In a postcoital fog of physical pleasure, Cliff watched her and progressively became even more confused. he sat up straight. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed, obviously," she said, speaking for the first time since she'd launched her aggressive lovemaking. Her tone was challenging, as if she thought Cliff's question idiotic.

"Are...you leaving?"

"I am," Anna said, while hooking her bra. Cliff watched her pick up her dress. "Did you enjoy this experience?" he questioned. It was obvious she'd not had an orgasm. It had been so mechanical on her part that Cliff likened her behavior to that of a motorized mannequin.

"Why? Am I suppose to?"

"Well, yes, of course," Cliff said, a little hurt but also perplexed.

"Why don't you stay? I need to file the story about the patient, after that we can talk about your experience tonight at the hospital. I sense you need to talk about it."

"How would we talk about it?"

"Well, discuss the details." He assured her as she rolled her eyes, irritated with Cliff. "The details were that she woke up, thanked me, and she didn't go quietly."

"I'm sure there's more than that." Cliff watched as she finished cleaning up, "I've got to go." Anna said with emphasis. She glanced around to make sure she had everything and started or the door.

"Wait! Why did you make love to me tonight, and why did you do it the way you did?"

"How did I do it?" she stopped right in front of the door.

"Well, aggressively. That's the best way to describe it." Moment of silence, Anna turned around and finally responded. "I wanted once in my life to prove my father wrong."

"What can you possibly mean?" Cliff questioned, with a short, cynical laugh. He was beginning to feel totally used, that that it had been unpleasant physically.

"MY father always told me that no man would want me fi he knew my secret. You knew my secret, and you still were willing to make love. My father was wrong."

Christ, Cliff thought irritably but didn't utter. He said with a fake smile, "Wonderful, now you know. See you around the mansion." He got up and began to dress as well. He was aware Anna was watching him, but he avoided her eyes. A moment later she was gone.

Cliff let out a slew of profanities under his breath as he pulled on the rest of his clothes. At age thirty-two, he had no intention of getting seriously romantic, and experiences like he'd just had made him wonder if he'd ever feel like getting serious. Women truly were mysterious and even crazy as far as he was concerned.

With the USB device in hand he left the library and sought out Santana Ramos, who was their psychologist-in-residence and also their media guru. Although Cal have had significant media experience due to working in the organization, he didn't have inside network connections, but Santana did. She'd worked for the Daily Blues for almost five years. He found Santana in her room reading one of her beloved psychology journals, and without the gory details Vera had related, he told her that the first patient had been taken care of.

He didn't mention a word about the aggressive lovemaking.

"Perfect," Santana said, hefting the USB device. "I think this is going to really work."

"I do too," Cliff nodded, "Get right on it."

"Consider it done."

Confident she would be true to her word, Cliff gave Santana an encouraging couple of taps on the shoulder. Leaving her room, he headed in the direction of the formal living room with full intention of getting back to a soccer game that he'd been watching with Durell. But while he walked, his mind went back to his disturbing episode with Anna. Despite her being their best employee, he wondered if he should bring up with the others her obvious emotional instability.

What gave him a pause was that he knew Petra, who was against any dalliance between Cliff or Durell and any of the nurses, would end up gloating and torture him with her invariable "I told you so" routine. On top of that, it was downright embarrassing to have been used so flagrantly.

Suddenly, Cliff stopped. His mind had replayed Anna's last comment that she "wanted once in her life to prove her father wrong."

Why once? Cliff questioned. He raised a knuckle to his mouth n absently chewed on it...

"Oh fuck, don't tell me..."

Turning from the direction of the formal living room, he raced towards the guest wing where the nurses were housed. Arriving at Anna and Samira's room, he pounded on the door as he yelled Anna's name. When she didn't answer immediately, he tried the door, all the while hoping that his fears would prove groundless.

Unfortunately, they didn't.

He found Anna peacefully spawned on her bed, her eyes closed. In her hand she clutched an empty plastic container of Zolpidem.

Grabbing Anna's shoulders, Cliff rudely sat her up, Her eyed lolled, but her eyes opened with heavy lids.

"God damn it, Anna!" Cliff shouted. "Why? What possessed you to do this?" He whew that if she dies, the whole enterprise his benefactor had wanted would be over, and it'd be on his damn head if that happened.

"It's appropriate," Anna murmured. "A life for a life."

Anna tried to lean back, and Cliff let her flop back onto the bed. He pulled out his den-den-mushi and speed-dialed Durrell.

"Fool, you better have a damn good reason why you interrupt the best part of the game-"

"Get an ambulance now," Cliff blurted out, not wanting to waste time, "Anna just ODed!"

Tossing the mushi aside on the bed, Cliff dragged Anna's limp body to the edge, allowing her head to hang down, he used his index finger to get her to vomit.

It wasn't pretty.

The good part was that more than a dozen intact Ambien tablets as wee as a few broken ones appeared on the doomed carpet.

The bad part was that he ended up puking himself.

Prologue Ends Here

April 20
Tuesday 7:35 A.M.
Somewhere in Alabasta

Sounds of wood forcibly creaking down vibrated in an empty office as a a well toned man balanced himself with one hand on the wooden chair, only one leg was on the ground as the other three were in the air as with the man. Sweat was pouring off of his chiseled body as he pushed up and down. If one were to look meticulously, slight blue aura was waving off of him as well as around the chair.

"92...93...94..." He counted, his long neat dread flowing down like a dark colored waterfall. Muscles spasmed to the point of no return as he focused more and more on his task. He was almost complete with his set...

"97...98...99..."

"Mr. Doctor's Day." A deep vibrato echoed as the man counted up to hundred before pushing himself off of the chair. With clean acrobatic execution, he landed gracefully onto the chair, the three legs were on the ground the moment he sat down, as the man wasted no time to remove the bandage wrapping around his hands. He looked up to see the big boss, the cigar in his mouth, as the smell of heavy tobacco began to enter in the room.

"Sir, you know I don't like the smell of smoke, especially in my corridor." The man grunted, but made no actions to extinguish the cigar.

"You here with a mission sir?" Sasuke Uchiha asked as he finally stood up, sweat glistening off of his hard rock abdominals and muscles as Mr 0 slowly walked up to the assassin/doctor.

"Depends."

"I'm busy with other contracts. Go find someone else, sir."

Mr. 0 chuckled as he drew something out of his coat. "You might want to reconsider," a newspaper. "After you read this." with a flick, the Daily Blue flew out of his hand and onto the ground, near Sasuke's foot. He finally got one of the wrappings off of his hand as he picked it up with his free hands. Using his teeth to pull off the second wrapping he began to read the headline.

Medical Tourism.

He did hear Dr. Kureha mention it a few times. Saying that it's threatening to become a growing industry in the developing world, particularly those under power of another kingdom. It wasn't just for cosmetic or quack procedures, such as untested cancer cures, as it had been in days of yore. It was for full-blown twenty-first-century procedures, such as open heart surgery and bone-marrow transplants.

Apart from lack of insurance and the costs, there really is no reason for him to feel anything about this. Why was Mr. 0 showing him this?

"That's a week ago paper..." pulling out another article he threw that one as well, "This one just came out today."

Sasuke picked it up...it wasn't a minute before an ominous atmosphere began to fill the room.

Medical Tourism
Complete B.S.

Just a few hours ago Daily Blues learned from a known, reliable source that a powerful political faction leader in the South Blue named Maria Hernandez, who'd had an uncomplicated hip replacement some twelve hours earlier, suddenly died at eight-twelve Monday night, at Mįtñoü Hospital in Mohora Island of a heart attack. Of particular interest, the source said she was certain that this tragic passing of a healthy sixty-four-year-old was merely the tip of the iceberg-

The doctor crumpled up the paper as Mr. 0 stared impassively at the doctor, "Maria Hernandez, I assume you know her more than we do?"

"She was one of my frequent patients, last time she was here for a hemorrhaging in her diaphragm..."

"Madam Hernandez was also one of our sponsors. Since you did say that she was bleeding in the diaphragm I guess it wasn't an assassination-"

"Heart attacks are caused by clots." Sasuke cut off the boss, "I said hemorrhaging, not clotting. She shouldn't have a heart attack." The boss paused, it wasn't normal that someone would cut him off, normally he would dispose Sasuke right here just for cutting him off...but...

"You're positive about this?"

"Last check up I did for her was a month, her heart was clean. It's impossible for her to get a heart attack." Sasuke affirmed as Mr. 0 smirked. "Good, then here's your next mission. Go to Mohora with your team as well with Ms. Valentines. The two of you will find the source, and exterminate it." Sasuke stared at him before getting out of his seat.

"Don't forget," Mr. 0 began as Sasuke walked past him, "I don't accept failures in my organization." Sasuke stopped right at the door as he pushed it open.

"Mr. 0, there's something you should know about me." Sasuke began as he slowly turned, the shadows covered his body as Mr. 0 stared into his eyes.

"Failure is not in my dictionary."

The Mangekyou Sharingans spun wildly.

Current Event of Time: 13 Years After Training with Kureha

1 Year Left Before Baroque Arc

Sasuke's New Look: i725 . photobucket albums / ww260 / SoraNyguen / victorious _ by _ ecthelian- d4umnda . jpg