Vigilante

A/N: Bubbly animated YJ!verse remixed with not-so-vanilla dark!verse Naruto. Can we get hands up please?

Warnings: Depictions of gore and violence. Spoilers for Season 2 of Young Justice. Pre-Kakashi Gaiden.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice (or anything mentioned from the DC-verse) or Naruto franchises.

Any spoken text in (brackets) is equivalent to Naruto-verse language – which DC-verse will identify as a strange oriental dialect that had Japanese origins.

Vivid, crimson blood matted the dull chrome of hair when the tiny automaton-like child darted back into the fray. His once clean, pressed clothing was soaked in life fluids, painting a horror story of forcefully removed entails and burned skin. Palming a sharp carving knife that Alfred recognized as the silver cutlery he stored in the bottom most shelf in the kitchen, the boy whipped the blade in a dance, ruthlessly slitting the throats of the would-be assassins.

He did not allow his hands to shake as he hid in the alcove behind the doorway, watching the brutal attack. Even then, years as the Batman's accomplice and Bruce Wayne's butler could not prepare him for what amounted as an intense bloodbath right in the foyer of Wayne Manor. And right now, with young Master Dick incapacitated – his heart burning and stomach twisting painfully because he refused to believe him dead even with him bleeding a river – and Master Bruce out on an alien mission with the Justice League, it was only the boy between them and certain demise.

He cringed when the child knocked his opponent against a bulletproof window and it shattered under the force. Eyes darting onto Master Dick, there was no reaction to the shower of glass as he kneeled unseeingly by the feet of the monster – Earth-mover, killer, remorseless brute – with his head propped up by the rough hand threaded in his hair and the marble shackles formed from the ground that bound his wrists to his feet; a sword was pierced through the teen's abdomen, blood oozing a puddle beneath him…

Rage and agony and frustration chased a storm within him as he stood there in the protective shadows, helpless. If he ran to him now, it would be a useless suicidal move as he would surely be another casualty in this battle.

And then there was the boy. The boy who was insecure and obedient during his stay at Wayne Manor, who was detained by the thugs when young Richard was captured and went completely ballistic when he saw him stabbed. Like a pantomime of violence, the boy snapped, shedding his mute guise and became one of the demon hunters that prowled Hell. It was all very surreal when Alfred watched him break out of the enemies' hold using meta-like abilities and methodically destroy them in hand-to-hand combat, disregarding the deadly machetes and daggers.

Alfred dug his fingers into the wood grain of the door, watching as twenty enemies dropped to ten like gnats, blood coating the walls and broken floor of the room below. There was a lull in the battle now as the leader smirked, tightening his hold on Master Dick, while the ten remaining lackeys circled the murderous boy. Even from this distance, he could see his eyes flash in cold, unbridled wrath, unrecognizable to the emptiness he witnessed before…

One Month Ago

Bats chittered high above, unseen in the darkness of the Batcave, as he strode purposefully through the base of operations. The bright light emitting from their open makeshift medical ward flung the surroundings in sharp relief, especially the Batman, a dark shadow against the illumination. He called out softly, "Welcome home, Master Bruce."

The man with the cowl around his neck turned a step and acknowledged him. "Alfred."

Moving closer and eventually stepping into the medical quarters, he was slightly taken aback when he saw a child looking no older than seven sitting in the gurney. "Oh my."

Tired, lost grey eyes peered at him from the medical bed, reflecting a glassy confusion. Dressed in a tattered t-shirt and pair of shorts, the boy read like a carefully blank slate as he sat in front of a mask-less Batman, arms loose against his side and feet dangling over the edge of the bed. Alfred could spy the multiple lacerations that ran down his uncovered skin and the blossoming bruises around the child's neck and wrists.

"Ra's al Ghul was interrogating him." The Dark Knight frowned as a way of explanation. "Until I find out what he wanted…"

"I understand sir. What of his relatives?"

When the hero did not respond, Alfred knew there was no answer.

"Very well." The manservant went to a well-used cabinet, taking out the first-aid kit. Approaching the silent boy, he glanced at the brooding Bat first and only when he received a nod, safe, began to tend to the boy's injuries. Through it all, the child said nothing, eyes vacant.

Removing the midnight black cape from his shoulders, Bruce turned away and offered, "He doesn't understand English."

"His name then…?"

"Unknown." The Batman treaded silently to the locker room but continued to speak, "Robin is returning from Mount Justice, ETA three minutes."

Alfred knew that was code for 'Robin will act as guard until this is resolved'.

Pausing from the bandaging, he queried over a shoulder, "Shall I prepare the guest room closest to Master Dick's room?"

A grunt was his only response, which translated to a 'yes'.

A liquid-muffled groan reached his ears when the eleventh victim fell to the child's fancy knife work. He had side-stepped the lunging man and jabbed him in the diaphragm, using his lack of height as an advantage to weave under the reaching arms. In a blink, the quicksilver knife was embedded deep between the ribs, fatally puncturing a lung and inducing a gurgle of blood from the injured foe.

Alfred witnessed the twelfth murder when the boy twisted downwards instinctively over the soon-to-be eleventh corpse, dodging the arc of a machete glittering under the chandelier's light. Escaping near decapitation did not faze him and with quick dexterity, the boy rolled away from the onslaught of attacks by the other goons and snagged twin daggers off the floor. He jumped over a swipe from a sword and twisting his body midway in the leap, he landed in a crouch on the blood-speckled wall and simultaneously threw the daggers in his hands with eerie precision; his target was blinded and dead before he hit the ground.

The child, still with a degree of detachment, was heaving from the exertion. The intruders all knew they were fatiguing the boy as they warily stared up at him, motions paused. Alfred saw the rapidly fluttering chest and as his storm eyes glowered at the leader, the tiny, bloody hands threaded together and even the leader tensed, snarling out an order of sorts-

Three Weeks Ago

In the following days of his arrival, they learnt that the boy was amnesiac and the miming for a name proved fruitless when he could not even remember it. And with Master Bruce unwilling to give him a name of sorts, because that led to attachments, they were left calling him 'the boy' or even 'Boy', much to his and Master Dick's chagrin.

"Master Dick, I am perfectly capable of carrying your lunches to you and the young boy."

A lopsided smile appeared on the teen's face. "Aww Alfred. Let me stretch my legs and keep you company."

His eyebrow rose with the prim and justified question. "And what of the young boy you left alone in the parlor?"

"I told him I went to get lunch."

He nearly sighed. "Master Dick, I was under the impression that he did not understand English."

"He doesn't. I pointed towards the clock and then to the kitchen and he blinked." Dick grinned earnestly. "So let me help you?"

"As it is not in my place to remind you of your duties from your nightlife, you will have to forgive this old man for grudgingly accepting your 'help' when it is unneeded."

"You're forgiven, Alfred." Impish blue eyes glittered with delight as he regarded him warmly. "Let's go."

"Very well. If you insist." He allowed the teen to take one tray while he handled the other, trailing after him as they exited the kitchen, passed the foyer and arrived at the parlor. What they saw though made them pause at the doorway.

The boy had abandoned the board game on the table and had wandered towards the large television mounted on the wall above the fireplace. Somehow, the boy was standing on the ledge of said fireplace, a firm grip on the edge of the electronic. His free hand had a butter knife in a death grip and he used it to jam and jimmy it into a port behind the device. He then threw his weight backwards as if trying to pry the electronic open, much to their bemusement.

The Robin found his voice first. "Oh. Bruce won't like this."

He commented dryly, "What an astute observation, Master Dick."

The television creaked ominously. "Alfred-I better-" The teen shoved the lunch platter into his waiting arms and he dashed towards the child just as he overcompensated, slipping and falling-

-only to be caught by young Grayson.

There was a large sigh from the ward of Bruce Wayne as the teen set the uninjured child onto his feet. Crossing his arms and using the bit of height he gained to full advantage, Dick asked sternly, "What were you doing?"

The child blinked, frowning unhappily at his tone, eyes glancing to the side uncomfortably. After a few seconds of waiting, the boy babbled something quiet in a variant of an oriental language, almost like Japanese. The boy then bowed curtly and Dick glanced at him in askance, bewildered. He merely approached the pair.

"Lunch is served, Master Dick. Young boy." He placed the meals on the low coffee table and sent a knowing look at his English-speaking charge. "You would do well to stay with him, Master Dick."

"I will – especially if he thinks that dismantling electronics is an acceptable hobby. Even Timmy's not this bad." Dick waved a free hand at his unimpressed 'I beg to differ' look and added, "Dismantling it dangerously, anyway."

And that was how they figured out the boy had an unprecedented fascination with all electronics, especially Robin's glove computer that projected the hologram screen. He had watched the boy poke a finger through the image numerous times and recalled the awe when his finger phased through the blue light.

When the last of the lackeys took their dying breath, all bets were off when the leader cracked his knuckles, finally releasing Master Dick and allowing him to unconsciously slump backwards, boneless. The boy, blood painting his cheeks like warrior marks, growled lowly, hands shaking minutely.

Alfred finally willed his feet to move, edging down the stairs and slipping back into the darkness. He had to get to his pale charge quickly to administer first aid because losing that much blood was...was…He just had to. Snatching a candlestick holder by the side table, he manoeuvred it in front of his person. He took several deep breaths and was about to take the first step into the foyer when he was forced to duck away from the flying piece of marble flooring.

"Oh dear."

The boy was moving again, quick as lightning, darting away from the older man but it was to no avail. The man was clearly faster, stronger and had more energy than the boy who, in the last fifteen minutes, was dealing with twenty other fighters. In a guttural voice, the man spoke, all jagged teeth and sly leers, ("Those meat bags were pathetic but useful in tiring you out. You should lie down and roll over like a good little dog.")

The Wayne family butler did not understand what was being said but he picked up the patronizing attitude. As for the child, he didn't show any reaction to being spoken to. Instead he brandished a wicked knife, circling the larger man who, tied around his neck, had a piece of cloth attached with a metal plate; on it was a scratched out insignia.

The villain smirked, ("When your traitorous father died, every single one of us fucking rejoiced. Shoulda seen the celebrations, Hatake-chan. We drank and thanked him for causing the war even-")

Alfred watched as the boy flinched, obviously understanding the taunting brute. Eyes wild, the boy threw the knife and while his opponent merely swatted the projectile away with a small shuriken, the boy followed up his attack with a swift kick to the side. It was, however, easily parried and the man knocked him down, meaty fingers finding purchase and squeezing around the boy's throat. He slammed the boy against a wall, the impact causing a small crater.

("Now tell me, where did your sensei hide the artefact?")

Blood dripped from his nose and above his hairline. The telltale signs of fear crept into the young boy's eyes as small hands clawed at the leader's wrists. Alfred considered his options with a candlestick and how to best use it to distract the single enemy, knowing he was running out of time…

Two Weeks Ago

Alfred, in his nightwear, was surprised to see Master Dick wandering the hallways directly outside of the boy's room. Scrupulously glancing at the clock above him, he noted the time to be at three thirty in the morning.

Dick, feeling his presence, glanced in his direction and called out quietly, "Alfred?"

"Master Dick, what are you doing up so late?" He shuffled towards the young man, inquiring.

"I-uh-" The young teen had a wide, deer in the headlights look and had the grace to look sheepish. "I heard the boy from my room and was wondering if I should go check on him. Don't know how welcomed I'd be though."

That brought a small smile to his face. Alfred considered the young man now standing in front of him and insecurities aside, he was growing up to be an excellent role model. Working with the Young Justice team as a leader was doing wonders for his countenance and by babysitting young Timothy Drake, he learned and proved capable with children as a 'big brother' figure.

"What do you think, Alfred?"

The quiet in the mansion easily carried the sounds of a distressed child inside the room they were in front of. Both men, young and old, listened as the sounds subsided and sheets began to rustle softly as the child disturbed the bedding, an indication of wakefulness.

"I think you should wait here." With a knowing smile, he added, "I will be right back."

And in ten minutes, he was back as promised but also came bearing gifts. Unceremoniously, Alfred pressed the two steaming cups of hot cocoa into Richard's hands and ushered him into the child's room.

The leader shook the boy like a ragdoll. ("Answer me!")

He wheezed and Alfred caught the tail ends of his reply, when stubbornness and adrenaline overtook terror. ("-let-go!")

("Not a chance pipsqueak.") Their opponent waved out his free left hand and from the ground, a jagged barb of earth formed, rising in a spiral. Visible energy swirled around it, shifting the soil into a precise spear point aimed at the boy's forehead. ("That fool Ra's al Ghul thinks breaking you is worth the time but I would rather bloody my hands with someone more valuable, Hatake-chan. Last chance.")

PANG!

A candlestick holder met its mark against the brute's forehead. From the doorway, Alfred revealed himself, calmness flooding his system when his eyes searched over Master Dick and then the boy, and remarked, "I must ask that you unhand the boy this instance."

The foreign enemy rotated his neck all the while glaring at Alfred, blood dripping from his temple. He spoke in English, "Silly man. Boy will be crushed now."

"No-!"

With his left hand glowing, the spike of earth pierced into the flesh of the boy, right at the center of his forehead. Blood rapidly trickled downwards, tracing a path between his nose, curving over cheeks and parted lips, and dripping onto the enemy's hand. At the last moment, rapidly dimming eyes met his and Alfred could only watch, heart in his throat at the horror scene. Another death.

"There. No more-"

But then the prone boy in his grasp dissolved into a fistful of dust and ash, billowing outwards in a cacophony storm. Alfred, knees weak, witnessed as a yellow flash sped into existence…

One Week Ago

From the corner of his eye through the kitchen windows, he saw a familiar red blur rush into the garden and try to halt, kicking up dirt as the teen skidded to a stop. There went his prized magnolias.

"Dude! Alfred is so going to kill you!" cried out Master Dick as he approached the speedster, using the open porch door connected to the kitchen and leaping onto the grounds below.

"Hey Rob. He didn't see me, right?"

"Think again, KF." He jabbed a jaunty thumb in his direction and he watched the teen's complexion whiten, freckles standing out.

He murmured under his breath even as Wally tried to use his superspeed to fix the flowers. "I do wish Master Wallace would not use the garden beds as a landing pad."

Behind him, the boy moved the cutlery next to the place mats. When he was done, Alfred passed another set to him and the boy obediently took the silverware, making a fifth seating. Once that was accomplished, he disappeared up the stairs.

The porch door admitted the two teens into the kitchen. "Uh-Hi Alfred. Sorry about the garden," grinned the speedster, shamefaced.

He stared down the young, nervous man, silent. Master Dick, however, saved his friend by pushing him into a seat at the dining table. He remarked hopefully, "Just in time for breakfast?"

"Breakfast will be served in fifteen minutes, sirs."

When he turned back to his work, he heard Master Wallace heave a sigh.

"Remind me to always use the front door. Always."

"I always remind you to use the front door. Always." Master Dick said dramatically, "Someone just doesn't listen."

"…Point taken." Silverware clinked, moved around as the older teen was undoubtedly fidgeting in his seat. "Sooo…Have you heard from Roy yet?"

"No, not yet."

When Wally did not respond, he could hear his charge exclaim, "Wait – you've heard from him?"

"No…Not heard. More like saw." The red-head continued, "You're like a Bat so you already know, right, but he was in Central City last night."

"Oh." There was sullenness. "I do know that. He was at Central since last week."

"Wait what? Since last week? I thought he just arrived…Why didn't you tell me that he was in my city?"

"So you could what? Chase him away?" He could hear the teenage angst. "It's not worth it Wally."

"Not worth it? The first time I see my friend in months is through security footage."

"He's my friend too and you know exactly that that's not what I meant." He murmured, "If we push any further, he's really going to break all ties."

The best friends in the dining room stopped speaking until thirty seconds later when his egg clock rang-

"…Sorry Rob."

"Me too."

Alfred removed the breakfast from the stove and began prepping the plates, still listening intently to the voices drifting from the dining room.

"So where's the boy?"

"Here."

Wally squeaked before clearing his throat. "Hi Mr. Wayne."

Master Dick snorted, "Smooth." He could hear the smile in the voice. "Morning Bruce."

"Good morning Dick. Wally."

There was a brief pause in which the chairs were displaced to accommodate the two new occupants. The speedster cajoled cheerfully, "What's up Boy?"

There was no response from him, not that they were expecting him to say anything.

Wally then broke the silence apprehensively, "Is it just me or is he glaring at me?"

"Uh, no. Not just you." Dick asked the boy kindly, "Hey, you okay there buddy?"

Suddenly, silverware crashed onto the ground and chairs were upturned, screeching across the polished floor. Alfred rushed into the dining room during the din and witnessed the boy clutching at his head, muttering frantically in his own language, ("Stop. Stop. Stop.")

Master Bruce was on his knees, stopping the struggling boy from tearing his own hair out. "Alfred."

"On it sir." He rushed back into the kitchen, intent on retrieving the first aid kit.

The boy was having one of his headaches again – brief spells where he would grab at his head and stagger on his feet. He would have this look in his eyes as if he remembered himself but it was gone once they were forced to sedate him, lest he hurt himself further.

The yellow blur wasn't the Flash or Kid Flash.

Blond hair swayed in residual momentum, blue eyes gleaming dangerously, lips pressed into a thin white line. A three-pronged dagger pierced the flesh of the enemy in a diagonal slash across the back and in a blink, he darted out, standing guard over Master Dick.

Alfred saw this all, frozen, and only stirred when suddenly beside him, the boy appeared in a cloud of dust, panting through a mouthful of blood.

"You…"

The madman laughed through the injury, eyes bulging as his fingers weaved together. ("The Yellow Flash of Konoha! I have been looking for you. Where is the artefact?")

("I don't have it.")

("Lying is unbecoming.")

("Says the man working for the League of Assassins.") Readying his weapons, two small daggers now, the blond's voice promised retribution. ("Missing-nin. I suggest you shut your mouth.")

("Make me.") From the enemy's tone of voice, Alfred took an instinctive step back even as the boy took a step forward, ready to lunge. ("I wonder…How will you react when I hang your student by his heartstrings?")

Abruptly at speeds too quick to track, the boy left his side, running, and flung a handful of projectiles at the enemy. The blond made a dismayed noise but followed the boy's moves, layering his existing attack with another set of flying daggers. Their opponent was prepared though and with a dangerous smirk, Alfred felt the ground tremble beneath their feet, spikes erupting from the ground towards him.

"Oh my-!"

In front of him the boy had dodged the spears, nimbly leaping out of the way, which left him to deal with the deadly barbs. But before he could be impaled, the blond grabbed him around the middle and manoeuvred them both out of harm's way.

Then they moved.

He was set back on his feet gently in the next room over, right beside a piece of parchment with strange glowing scriptures. "Stay please."

Alfred swallowed thickly, "Sir, you cannot-"

"I will bring your son out." The azure eyes relayed his conviction.

Before Alfred could correct him, the wall behind them exploded, smoke billowing dramatically from the rubble, and the boy tumbled into the room landing painfully onto his side.

("Kakashi!")

The boy stirred, struggling back onto his feet, as the enemy emerged from the destruction. ("Pathetic!")

("That's enough. It's time to end this.")

He felt a ripple of energy coming off of the blond as he threw a four-pointed shuriken at the mercenary except this time, the single projectile multiplied into the thousands in a blink of an eye.

("Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu!")

The enemy snarled but stood there, allowing the numerous weapons to 'hit' him as he displaced into the shadows. Too quick to trace with his eyes, Alfred only saw the end results as the wily enemy appeared to the blond's right with a wicked sharp spear in his left. In a pre-emptive read, the blond young man merely pivoted on one foot away from the weapon and phased out of existence briefly. He flickered right behind the enraged adversary, a glowing, spinning blue ball in the palm of his right hand.

("Rasengan!")

Blood splattered, speckles flying onto his suit and into the face of the blond.

The opponent fell like a sack of potatoes, spinal cord severed, a gaping hole where it used to exist.

Alfred continued to stare at the corpse until the blond touched his elbow gently and steered him away towards the boy. Shaking himself, he looked straight at the killer's eyes and with as much pomp he could muster, said, "I need to tend to Master Dick."

"I…see." The blond released him, accepting his words and leaving him to do his duty, and turned towards the injured boy still sitting on the ground – his duty.

He could hear them speak briefly as he exited the room –

("Kakashi. Look at me.")

("…Minato-sensei? When did you get here…? There were…seals…blood sacrifices…mind wipe? Genjutsu.")

("Seal. You said seal. What seal?")

("Here.")

A soft intake of breath. ("…We need to get you back to Konoha.")

Alfred picked his way through cadavers and streaks of blood and hurried the last few steps to his prone – but thank the heavens – breathing charge. Removing his gloves, he placed a gentle finger against his neck above the carotid artery and managed to detect a feeble, butterfly wing heartbeat. He glanced at the katana still lodged into the teen as well as the unnatural, rock shackles that bound his hands to his feet. The shackles had to go first, he decided, so that he could maneuver him to a more comfortable position but how would he do that without hurting him?

"Let me help."

Pale scarred hands cupped the shackles and faint green energy emitted from the palms, causing the rock to melt into mud. A steady hand between Master Dick's shoulder blades prevented him from toppling over; it was the boy.

Alfred said nothing as he helped the boy ease Richard onto the ground, propping him onto his side. The blond killer stated softly, using logic to dismiss the miracle, "The mercenary avoided the major organs. Playing. He was playing."

"Humans are not toys." The words were bitter and reproachful.

"Sorry." Azure eyes reflected remorse. "He wanted Kakashi to break."

Kakashi. The boy. The child assassin that took down twenty adult men in the aftermath of Richard's stabbing. His eyes were once again grey and empty, vengeful wrath hidden in its cage. Alfred sensed that the blond's words alluded to an event that he was not privy to.

He knew he was accusing. "He's a child soldier."

Even as the blond murderer squeezed his apprentice by the shoulder, he placated him with vapid words. "Kakashi is a casualty of war." He then said while pressing a small pack into the boy's hands, ("Help him. Tend to your wounds and the civilian's. I will go clean up.")

As the blond took his leave, Kakashi sat down wearily silent, spreading out the medical kit in front of him. Alfred took that as his cue to analyze the stab wound. It was a clean cut. Carefully, he removed the sword, eliciting a groan of pain from Richard. Quickly taking two sterilized pads from the kit, he pressed down on both sides of the wound to stop the bleeding. He really needed to get him to the medical ward where the proper equipment was kept.

Kakashi watched him work frantically to abate the bleeding before reaching forward, a firm, bloody hand grasping around his fingers.

He nearly flinched. "What are you doing?"

With an insistent tug, Alfred, against his better judgement, removed one of the pads and the assassin let his hand hover above the wound. Eyes screwing shut in concentration, blue energy leaked out and lapped against severed flesh.

Within a few minutes, the wound stopped bleeding out and the boy collapsed.

Alfred glanced at the handiwork that still required stitching. The blond, who was briefly forgotten, said softly, "It is okay. He is just tired. We will leave soon."

He looked up sharply at the man. "Leave?" What about justice. That man could not possibly have him believe that once he left, everything would be alright. That everything would return back to normal.

"Yes. Leave."

It was then Alfred noticed that they were short nineteen bodies and clean of weapons. He watched as the blond methodically took the last cadaver and on its forehead, inscribed a symbol of sorts that resembled a strange trigram. A scroll was then opened with a matching symbol and the blond, placing a finger on the symbol, released that same green energy he used in the battle. In a flash of heat and light, the body disappeared and the scroll was sealed tight.

As the man approached, he turned away, refusing to look at him. He found his voice again. "Sir. Do you think you're above the law?"

"There is no law. Only mercenary." It was said with calm certainty.

Alfred fell angrily silent at that, occupying himself with his injured charge.

"Thank you. I am sorry for not finding him sooner." Alfred could hear the unsaid words of 'this could have been avoided if I did'. The man, sensing his volatile mood, placed a package next to him and said, "This was what Ra's al Ghul wanted. He overstepped boundaries for this. Please give it to Batman."

Boys and their toys. He gave the package a distasteful glance. "I will." Alfred didn't care much for the capes and cowls and madmen and assassins right now when all he had to live for presently was a weak pulse between paper-thin skin.

The blond murderer repeated, "Thank you." He carefully arranged his child soldier under his right arm and in a flash, fled the scene of the crime. Alfred did not stop him.

Five minutes later, Bruce Wayne in the guise of Batman flew through the Wayne Manor door, finally answering the distress signal sent nearly two hours ago. What he found was a macabre scene with Alfred tearfully cradling a pale-faced Richard in a room bathed with pints and pints of blood but with no bodies to account for.

End

A/N: The elephant in the room was Sakumo Hatake's suicide and how Dick's stab wound mimics the injury. And yes there was kunai involved when Minato arrived but I said daggers because I don't think Alfred would think of kunai as, well, kunai. Also about those bodies...Minato sent the twenty back to Ra's al Ghul because he can and will send warnings. The missing-nin went home with them.

Anyway, there's a lot more back story to this that touches on the whys the characters reacted the way they did. Have fun imagining.

~Phoenyxx