Trouble in Suna: Gaara fanfic {Under Construction}

Trouble in Suna

Third Person POV

Amegakure

As an onlooker, metallic skyscrapers compete with another in a slow race to breach the polluted gray clouds hovering over the city to reach clean air above and connecting these towering giants are sleek and shiny mixtures of black and gray power lines and pipes. Giant strands of them split and amass spirling, ascending, descending, appearing, and disappearing amongst the tightly cluster of buildings. From the pipes dark plumes of smoke rise darkening the already gray skies and from the bleak sky, rain poured.

Rain and more rain, free falling and spilling from rooftops becoming miniature rivers diverted to the sewage grates and carried away to the giant lake surrounding the city like a wall. Continuously, the rain plummets becoming a security alarm beside washing away dirt. The name of the city is the Village of the Rain also known as Amegakure.

One disturbance to the water than another followed by two more, all four from stranger lands. The men travel in a group, their garb foreign and out of place for a land where rain was the forecasted weather every day. Their garb well ruined from the rain consists of beige thawb and sandals, and white keffiyehs. They wade through inches deep puddles ill-prepared for heavy rain, and all their faces are grim, appalled by such a land, but continue forward following two ninjas of Amegakure who are currently escorting them to the house of council.

Eyes were on these strangers, citizens and ninjas alike, and all eyes were weary because foreigners did not equal pleasantries. Peace might have been declared and treaties signed after the fourth shinobi war, but peace has never lasted long in any land, because pieces of papers hold little or no value in the past. The heaviness blankets the city and the only deterrent to the silence was the steady pelting of rain and the clumsy movements of the strangers walking through puddles.

The glow of city lights reflect off the water, and the eyes of the strangers wander taking in the sights of the industrial city which are heavily influenced by new technologies. Screens flash images and movements, and at a glance, the screens appear to have people and creatures imprison in them. Other strange machines lay dormant on the sides of the roads. This city was different from their home in the sands. This place once was a poor city but now was extremely wealthy, and although, the weather was a cause for much hate, there was much to learn here.

The attention of foreigners is immediately diverted to the tallest building in the city, which looms directly in front of them. They stare at the building unable to look elsewhere, the architects of Amegakure proving their brilliance. They designed and built the tower to have a half a body of a distorted woman whose hair consist of pipes and powerlines jut from the walls, blue sparks zipping along the wires of her hair racing to and from the building. Then from her mouth, her tongue extends out, piercings littering the appendage in an ominous warning sign to terrorists.

As the group trails behind their escorts growing closer to the ominous tower, they see its entrance is a set of massive doors covered in mechanical spirals, wheels, cylinders, and spinners all fitted together in a complex puzzle. The door shudders, clanks and shrieks before the metal pieces move, spin, swing, and swish finally opening, it reveals a hallway, and at the end of the hallway, there are red and yellow lights flickering hinting a warm fire was within.

The ninjas who were escorting the men halt and step aside to stand on either side of the entrance. They do not speak or make eye contact choosing to stand vigor and straight. Unlike the men they escorted, their clothing is perfectly tailored for wet environments. Thick black masks conceal their faces making only their eyes visible and the rest of their bodies are cloak in tight rubber suits completely waterproof giving the ninja a formidable appearance. Their identities are unknown the only hint of who they are is their headbands displayed proudly.