Daraku was ready. An elated look was present on his face and his eyes beamed with excitement. He was taking on his first mission as a Jounin of Sunagakure since his return to the village. After a month of sitting in a desolate jail cell, all to his lonesome, action like this would be a great way to get him back on his feet. Granted, this particular mission was only C-Rank and could easily be completed by someone of a caliber much inferior to his. He supposed that, considering he'd just rejoined Suna, he couldn't be trusted with big-time missions yet. The thing that did make him so happy about this mission, though, was that he had the opportunity to kill. His objective was to murder a serial killer who was on the loose, apparently last seen near the meeting cactus where he conducted his most recent kill. Daraku wasn't one to judge, as he fit the definition of a serial killer as well, but under a new oath and promise bound by the village, his task was to exterminate the target. It wasn't an issue of morality or personal opinion, or believing this man deserved to die for killing. It was a job put onto Daraku, and as a loyal villager of the Hidden Sand, he was not about to fail.

With his gear equipped and his mask around his face, Daraku sprinted through the sandy streets. It was around dusk, and the sun was falling below the horizon, leaving a grey and clouded sky overhead. He didn't mind; although gloomy, this weather wasn't cold or uncomfortable in the least. He felt as if he was in his element, in the brisk, heated breezes and the sand. His feet were moving at violent speeds as he continued to sprint. He reached a tall building that towered over the village wall, used his momentum to run up the vertical platform, then hopped to an adjacent building and off its roof to leave the village. He was left with a long stretch of desert ahead of him, but he knew well where he was going. He'd been to the Meeting Cactus a number of times, and it was even made to be an obvious rendezvous location in the middle of the vast wasteland just outside the village. The sand seemed to settle with the wind slowly dying down, and he reached his destination within minutes. "Now, how am I gonna catch this poor bastard..." he wondered,  his hand gripping the hilt of his blade, Hikō. He removed the weapon from its sheathe and held it out in front of him, preparing to strike.

After walking a few paces further, Daraku spotted the vagabond doing just what he thought he did best; murdering innocents. A tourist, judging by the Kirigakure hitai-ate around the woman's arm. Her blood was painted across the sands and the man's hands were also covered in it. He was holding some organ of hers and looking at it like it was a prize after completing a difficult challenge. Daraku didn't look down on him or even flinch, just approached slowly with his sword still drawn. "Die." he said in a low growl as he raised his weapon overhead, ready to end the nomad's life. His arm stopped in a split second as he heard a sound. Something was coming, and he immediately assumed that this pathetic and inferior killer had come with allies. It was no use, though; Daraku was an expert. He'd spent his whole life killing and had even bested those that taught him how to kill in the first place. He'd proven that he was the perfect weapon, under the right circumstances.

Daraku analyzed every move they made and took note of their mistakes. The first one was giving away their stealthy ambush by using loud and overall weak jutsu. Two fireballs were fast approaching. He could see both of them out of the corner of his eyes, scorching the sand underneath them. Naturally, they were coming from two different directions, but that lead right into mistake number two. They hadn't considered that he could dodge both flames by lunging forward. So, he did just that. He lunged forward, somersaulted, and when he was back on his feet, his blade was hilt deep in the gut of the first target. Blood dripped from the weapon down onto the sand, tainting the area a deeper red than before and Daraku heard the flames meet one another, burst, and slowly peter out. He removed his weapon from the new corpse, letting it fall lifeless onto the tourist's. One of the remaining opponents sprinted towards Daraku, but, didn't think the attack through all that well. Mistake number three. Daraku turned and gave him a smile before slashing quickly, leaving a lethal gash across the man's neck.

All that was left was the single woman, who was still holding her Tiger hand seal from the previous Katon jutsu. Daraku assumed she was preparing another one, but he didn't falter. "Run while you can. I won't have any mercy on you if you're gonna sit here and be a dumbass." She blinked, but didn't run. "Mistake number five. Your choice..." He pulled a shuriken from his pouch at lightning speed and threw it, nailing the woman right in her forehead. She staggered back and collapsed to the sand. He walked over slowly and checked her pulse. Dead.

The blood in the area left a pungent smell in the air, but Daraku didn't mind. He merely used his sleeve to wipe the blood off his weapon. "I'm not one for picking up corpses. I'll go get a medic squad to do it later on. It's not like these're going to go anywhere..." he mumbled to himself absentmindedly. He turned back to the general direction of the village and began walking.