Chapter 7 - S

Sasuke is injured, tired, and possibly a step away from chakra exhaustion. Yet, his mind is sharp; honed-battle experience still intact. His Sharingan can see their lack of training and strength; his rinnegan, their small amount of chakra. Even less than a civilian in his world would have but a sufficient amount to live. They don't even pose a threat to a genin.

"This is what we're going to do. You'll answer my questions and return my katana. You'll give me a place to sleep, food enough for a meal, and medical supplies. If you do that, I'll leave your people alone and won't kill you all."

The doctor looks up at him in protest and their eyes lock. His gaze widens with horror and awe. "What are you?" he whispers.

The man in his grip turns slightly in an attempt to catch what the other saw, the same happening with the one kneeling on the floor, and Sasuke lets them. Fear will work easier to make them comply. He increases barely the killing intent just when they see his face. He narrows his eyes but the action doesn't make them any less visible—it doesn't lessen their power. They stiffen, realization coming at them like a physical blow. They now know how much above their pay grade the situation has turned.

Sasuke smirks. "Let's start."

.

It still takes some light pushing before he obtains his answers without letting them know how much he doesn't actually know. If there's one thing he learned from his time with Orochimaru is the value of knowledge. He knows its power. And if thanks to well-used words they assume he knows more than them, the better for him.

Now he only has to maintain that balance.

Doctor Milton, after making sure his nose is fixed and that Sasuke's finished retrieving all the weapons they have, goes to dress his wounds. Apparently, only one was already dressed, though thanks to his sudden movements, the gash on his back made by his own blade opened. He doesn't think he could be able to change the bandages from that wound without help. Jutsus wouldn't be of any help with his current levels of chakra either.

A simple bunshin would be tough enough; the Kage bunshin is currently nigh impossible.

"It's kind of amazing how you don't even react to the pain." Sasuke glances at the doctor working on his back and raises an eyebrow. At seeing his expression, the doctor adds, "I'm not this kind of doctor, the one that stitched your back was another one and in the short time since this happened, I've just learned basic kit aid like all. I'm not really good and I'm sure I'm making more mistakes than not. Are you sure you don't want to have her check this?"

Sasuke holds his smirk. In short, they've their own doctor, a female one. They're a lot of people or the 'event' they've been talking about happened not so long ago. And Milton is some kind of researcher like Orochimaru if he's the one in charge of looking into how he survived the fall. The doctor and the gruff man are better at throwing what they think is not useful information than their leader.

He's gained much just by letting them talk but never he let it show, he simply answers, "Just make sure I won't bleed out."

He doesn't know if he'll have to fight again once outside, though something tells him he will. Even so, it's better to take precautions.

"And what do you plan to do once outside and after we've complied with your demands, young man? You've us in the palm of your hand. Will you demand our weapons, too? Supplies, all our food? Do you plan to kill us all? Kidnaping would only get you so far, after all."

The way he changes the tone of certain keywords amuses him. He's trying to make him slip. Sasuke doesn't know much about this world but it doesn't seem like much if they use such weak psychological tactics on him. Or perhaps is his age? Do they think he'll doubt his actions because of what they assume is a rebel act from a teenager?

He would normally ignore him but... He glances at the weapon he retrieved from the Governor, the one that appears to frighten them more than the knife, before looking at the man. "How long has this place existed?"

Governor Philip Blake frowns but answers anyway. "Since this disaster started. Milton must know the exact date."

"Eighth five days," he says nervously.

Not that long, then.

The doctor clears his throat. "Also, I've finished. Someone'll have to set your arm though. It's already looking bad."