An Orchestrated Coup [Exemplary]

[Kakashi Hatake]

Ignoring the host of newcomers, Kakashi quickly surveyed the room as his mentor locked eyes with the Makhel clanswoman, piercing blues boring into muddy browns. They seemed to have found themselves in some sort of ceremonial chamber; aside from a half dozen pillars supporting the stone ceiling, there was not much else of note. Flickering candles revealed deep gouges in the pillars and rusty red smears caked upon the cobble floors. Here or there the masked shinobi thought he would make out vague shapes of crude glyphs hastily wiped not-quite-clean from the stone. For what the room could have been used, Kakashi presumed he’d rather not know. Off to his left, he hear the door slam shut. Perfect.

From just behind him, the scarecrow could hear Minato breathing heavily, slow and deliberate. Something desperate had awoken within the former Kage, the crumbling back wall serving as evidence of his violent intent. Kakashi thought back to their exchange on the rooftop the night before; their arrival in this strange universe had heralded a great change for them, as it likely did with everyone else ushered in by Omni. For Minato, this change meant weakness. For a man who constantly bore the burden of others, such weakness was true torture.

“So,” Kakashi uttered, glancing at the handful of armed combatants closing in around them. Their jagged yellow teeth clashed harshly against the mossy flesh with which he had recently become all too familiar. “Orcs?” The man inquired; his left hand fell to his belt pouch, his right raising a kunai defensively before his chest. The tiny blade was almost laughable compared to the broadswords and claymores that the grinning fiends bore.

“If that’s what you’d deign to call us,” the leader responded. “Orc, goblin, gremlin. We Orsimer are called many things by men. The name is immaterial.” She produced a medium-sized rod from thin air, ancient and worn, with a flick of her wrist. Her flinty eyes gazed down at the tool with amusement, her lips rapidly forming silent words. As she muttered the mantra, smoke erupted from the staff’s head and billowed toward the ceiling. The pair of intruders could scarcely begin to worry about the smog before it spread around them, drifting downward and enveloping the encircling orcish warriors. 

“What are you doing?” The former captain demanded, tensing as the group around him began to cough and sputter. Attacking her own troops? The rod-bearer’s lips spread into a wide grin as he spell reached completion, the staff ceasing its pollution. No sooner had the last of the smoke dissipated around the orcish warriors than they began to cry out, bringing clawed fingers to tear at their faces.

“A gift,” the orc woman sneered, crossing her arms before her. “I’ve seen you two fight. I think we both know this will make things more interesting.”

Minato narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to respond to her snide remark. He was forced to duck before he could find the words, however, as one of the ravaged warriors lashed out at him with bestial savagery. Kakashi was coaxed into a forward somersault, breaking their defensive formation as a battleaxe barely cleared his head. Shooting a quick glance to his rear, he slapped his left hand against the ground for a moment before springing high into the air, right hand forming a seal as the ground beneath him detonated. 

The scarecrow tumbled as he landed, hurriedly getting to his feet as the smoke cleared behind him. Minato had found his way across the room--his Flying Raijin no doubt leaving him ample time to flee the explosion-- making a break for the conjurer herself. Kakashi could spare but a moment of concern for his mentor before his attention was diverted to the sounds of snarling orcs emerging from the rubble. Their various instruments at the ready, the half dozen orcs charged, making to force through and follow the charging Kage. Thinking quickly, the sharingan wielder flung a pair of kunai at the two closest, the daggers that took up residence in their respective guts causing them to stall for the moment. He quickly found the handle of his chokuto, freeing it from the sheathe and carving a swathe through the bellies of the remaining four orcs in one clean, broad motion. Though he could likely not manage to take them all on at once, he could only hope to distract them long enough for Minato to bring their leader down. 

The incensed combatants growled through the pain of their injuries, each now setting his sights firmly on the silver-haired shinobi. Kakashi noted black spiderweb-esque cracks etched into their flesh, no doubt a result of the witch’s ‘gift’. Their eyes were of a similar hue, even the sclera bearing the color of night. They moved with terrifying speed as they dove toward him, ferocity noteworthy even compared to normal orcish behavior. Turning on his heel, the masked shinobi took off across the room, kiting his executioners to the side opposing the Kage and his mark. His fleet feet took him quickly from harm’s way, managing to flee the orcs’ range despite their augmented abilities. As he reached the far wall he paused, bringing his hands before him in the shape of a plus-sign. “Shadow Clone Jutsu!”

Steel met chakra metal as a pair of doppelgangers appeared to defend him, duplicate blades pushing back against jagged, orcish metal. Taking his stance between the conjured mirror entities, the trio of Hatakes smirked at the confounded sextet. Without a word the trio lunged, taking advantage of the momentary confusion to carve an array of slash wounds into any unarmored flesh. Cries of pain-addled rage sprang from their throats in unison as dark ichor splattered across the dingy floors. 

From the other side of the chamber Kakashi could see Minato squaring off against the Makhel leader, expertly dodging a magical projectile and disappearing from sight. A beat later he appeared at her flank, bringing a pair of tri-tipped kunai to bear. The oddly shaped daggers found their mark, slashing at the leather straps that held the heavy armor in place and burying the weapons into her flesh an instant later. Howling in agony, the spellcaster raised her staff, thrusting the blonde shinobi careening across the room and into the far wall, not a few meters from the trio of triplet swordsmen.

“ENOUGH!” the woman bellowed, dark gore dribbling from a visible wound on her side. She had discarded her damaged armor, now wearing a coal black leather doublet adorn with intricate symbols and strange lettering. Her eyes burned with rage as she squared her shoulders, murderous intent apparent on her countenance. 

The she-orc’s outburst gave the scarecrow pause as his opponents stopped their assault entirely to gawk at their commander. She raised her staff, pointing the end toward the squadron of underlings standing against Team Kakashi. The former Anbu raised his sword in defense, though he found himself untouched as his foes fell to their knees, six gravelly voices screaming in agony. The cracks upon their flesh glowed white-hot as they lost use of their voices, content only to writhe upon the stone floor as the light began to glow only brighter. Before he could stand transfixed for much longer he felt a familiar grip around his midsection as he was forcibly removed from his position at mind-boggling speed. Not an instant later the world was drowned out in an apocalyptic explosion.