"Ōnoki! Uchiha Yoru! I'm begging you! As long as Hidden Cloud Village can be saved, I'm willing to pay any price!" The Raikage's howl, so fierce it nearly tore his vocal cords apart, burst from the black metal microphone amid piercing electrical static and the shriek of gale-force winds. Inside Iwagakure's underground command center, sealed tight behind reinforced stone slabs, the shrill red warning lights spun madly, casting the sweat-soaked walls in a bloody glow. The air reeked of oily sweat brought on by extreme tension, stinging the nose.
Ōnoki clenched the golden gear in his hand tightly. His eyes, which had still held the amused air of a spectator, suddenly shrank to pinpoints when he saw the horrific scene of White Zetsu's army and that massive wooden demonic statue on the large screen. Beads of cold sweat seeped from the old man's temples, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he spat out a filthy mouthful of muddy phlegm. "Kid Yoru, did you see that? The masked man and that bastard Zetsu have really emptied their coffers this time. They're going to swallow the Land of Lightning whole." He turned to look at Uchiha Yoru, who was still leisurely sipping tea beside him.
"They had no choice, Ōnoki." Yoru set down the tea-stained cup in his hand. The curve of his lips was ice-cold, devoid of any excess emotion. "The Nine-Tails and Eight-Tails are both in our hands, and we even poached Orochimaru. Of course they're desperate." He rose to his feet and stretched deeply, his joints cracking loudly. "Old man, the Raikage has practically handed over his entire fortune. What are you waiting for? Is that contract stamped with a bloody handprint supposed to be used as toilet paper?"
"Well said! He's just some lousy masked man. I'll lead