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Orochimaru the Sannin was fully occupied in re-evaluating his plans as he popped his dislocated jaw back into place, while he managed to get his spine properly aligned again. Knowing how diffuse the cloud of flame from the Uchiha should at this distance he had hardly even tried to dodge it, and was rewarded with having his eyebrows set on fire. Or at least the eyebrows of the skin he was wearing. That shouldn't have happened, not with such a basic technique. This whole Team Seven wasn't what had been reported to him. He spat singed blood out of his borrowed body's mouth. What did the Carrier have in its veins instead of blood?

At least there was an eight out of ten chance it would die, now that the Cursed Seal of Heaven was infecting it. Or else it would become (in time) his little muzzled and collared pet. Still, Yakushi Kabuto would have a lot to answer for, when they next had a little conference.

How did that little girl hit him so hard? It had almost felt like one of Tsunade's love-taps. He had tried to block the kick (a Sannin didn't need his eyes to tell when an attack was coming), but she had been so damn fast. Right now Orochimaru felt more like an arthritic 70 year old than the spry super-ninja of fifty (in a twenty-five year-old's body) that he really was. If Anko hadn't been a traitor, coward, and total failure, Orochimaru would have been very proud how well she had been teaching her students. It was almost a shame that he would now have to kill at least one of the team, probably was already killing another, and would be abducting the third for later use.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6940744/9/