Firstly, I'd like to apologize to anyone who has been waiting for a new story, sorry for the wait! When I get writers blocks, I get them hard. Lol. I'll try to get my other ones out shortly. ;)
So, this story is actually one I started writing a few years back, before I even became a fan of Bleach or fanfiction. I was contemplating plots and stories when I came across this long, unfinished one in the dark corner of my USB memory stick, and found when applied to the characters of Bleach, a fanfic could be born. Long story short (ahh...puns), this is an amped-up, newly refurbished fic made with Bleach characters in place of my own.
Lastly, I plan to make this a lengthy fic, and although a lot of it has already been written, I am rewriting alot of content. Reviews and imaginative bunnies of plot would be a help throughout this project of mine.
So, without further ado...sit back, hold on, and (hopefully) enjoy. ;)
The night breeze rippled gently through the tall grass of the clearing. A pale, full moon hung over all, lighting the surrounding forest with soft, silver light. Fall brought with it its cold bite, and frost covered most of the ground with sparkling, white crystals.
A pair of figures stood against a lone tree, one encircled in the arms of the other, bent to each other almost as if lovers, the darker of the two seeming to whisper words of endearment as they leant forward. How innocent it seemed at a glance, until whispered kisses became the tearing of flesh and the spurt of dark crimson, a morbid parody of what the act looked like to the average observer. A hand slid from the deadly embrace, shining pale beneath the moon.
Another poor soul who wouldn't see their next dawn.
A man in muted black crouched amongst the blades of grass, having watched the whole spectacle quietly. His hand rose in a closed fist, signaling several forms to slink out from beyond the tree line, gun sights trained on the scene before them.
Sliding a pair of katana soundlessly from their sheaths, the figure in the black hood crept silent across the ground, the others following close behind, eyes on the beast they stalked. It was a male of the species, remarkably handsome, as was the norm for his kind; cunning, deceitful creatures that they were.
The man in black looked to the others, orders for them held merely in his piercing gaze, before edging closer on his own, sliding carefully across the clearing.
Up ahead, the vampire finished, dropping the emptied husk of a body, oblivious to the threat only meters away. Wiping his mouth on a sleeve, the creature shifted, readying himself to leave, and the hooded man lunged, launching himself into the night air with weapons drawn.
The wind changed direction then, the short gust bringing his scent and a brilliant flash of orange with it, and the once unsuspecting vampire stiffened with apprehension, whirling to face the threat with teeth bared.
Too late.
Sharpened blades met flesh, the decapitated body falling to the ground, head rolling beside it. The others emerged from the surrounding foliage, most staring at the bodies with distaste. The man in black stood quiet beside the corpse, his uncovered head shining like fire in the pale light, a silver amulet glinting on his chest. His blades were swept clean across the wet grass and he slid them back home in the sheaths strapped to his back. A dark haired man broke from the rest of the group and approached him.
"What of the bodies, my Lord?"
The orange haired man in black glanced dispassionately over the corpses his men were dragging next to each other.
"Burn them."
The man watched silently, as the flames grew higher and higher, firelight flickering across his tanned face and the small part of forest they occupied, and then just as silently, strode away.
Dawn was slowly creeping over the mountaintops as a line of SUVs made their way through a heavily guarded gate. The gate itself lead onto land that housed what might have seemed like an extraordinarily sized mansion with surrounding buildings, all encased and protected by the forest and mountains that lay around it. The closest town was under the impression the compound was owned and managed by a highly reclusive religious community, and it was this particular belief that had ensured the compound's secrecy. No one would ever suspect that it housed and trained hunters of the night. Slayers they were called, destroyers of the walking dead, vanquishers of the creatures known as nosferatu.
The SUVs slowed to a halt beside a large hanger and several passengers exited the vehicles, assisting those waiting with the unloading of weapons and equipment. The orange haired man emerged from the passenger side of the first vehicle, stepping lightly onto the frosted gravel, a second man shadowing him as he turned towards the main building.
"Any orders for the men, my lord?" the second asked.
The other considered the statement for a moment before replying in a husky tenor, "Tell them to debrief with Richards and then seek their beds. That will be all for now, Renji."
The burgundy haired man gave a curt nod before turning to address the men and women standing silently in wait for orders. The unit was one of the most efficient in their organization, full of intelligent slayers well trained under Renji's watchful eye. He dismissed them with a nod and turned once more to his orange haired companion, "Shall we then, my Lord?"
A small scowl broke out across the other's face. "Yes. And you can drop the 'my Lord'"
The clipped reply brought a smile to Renji's face. His companion was testy at the best of times, but a loyal friend and good man. He replied in kind, adopting a brusquer and more familiar tone, now that their men were out of earshot.
"But of course, my Lord, I meant no offense. I only sought to be professional."
"Prat."
"Well that, and to ensure your present good mood, thus keeping you oblivious to the fact I stole your favorite Glock last night."
"Ah, so that's how it was mysteriously missing from its holster."
"I'm afraid so, Milord."
"Pity."
The banter between the two continued as they made their way through the main building's halls, stopping every so often to greet slayers and officers from other units. They passed into a large center room, where communication and intelligence agents were hard at work, scanning computer screens and video footage and spreading papers over the various tables placed in the room. An unmarked wood door was opened and the two went through, shutting the door behind them. The orange haired man seemed to release a held in breath, and slipped the holster holding his katana from his back with a soft sigh. Laying his blades on the desk perched in the backside of the room, he smiled softly as the sound of cracking bones and a hearty yawn reached his ears.
"Tired, are you, Renji?" He teased lightly. A slayer's life was anything but restful, as they were constantly on the go, only putting aside a small number of hours each day for rest and sustenance.
Renji bristled slightly at the comment, his wide mouth dropping into an indignant scowl as he glared at his friend.
"To tell you the truth, I'm getting way to old for this kind of thing. Just the thought of you taking on a vampire by yourself is enough to give me gray hairs. I'm going to die of old age from watching you one of these days."
At the age of 29, the burgundy haired man was certainly not old; he was six feet and three inches of sturdy, corded muscle and sinewy strength. He was an excellent marksman, deadly with any kind of knife and had intelligence beyond his years. He was in his prime. And yet, behind his mahogany eyes there was an old tiredness, an aged look that came with having seen too much during such a short period of life.
"Is that any way to speak to your commanding officer?" the other asked, mock indignantly, "You doubt my prowess as an accomplished fighter? I should make you do paperwork for the insult."
Renji's mouth quirked at the retort, "You would have me do the paperwork anyway. You hate doing paperwork."
"For good reason," a shudder, " Who in their right mind would want to sit behind a desk and fill out sheet upon sheet of that garbage?"
"Everyone deserves to suffer every now and then. They say boredom builds character."
Renji watched his friend's mouth form into a small pout, "But you wouldn't let me suffer, would you?" the fiery-headed man asked.
"No, I wouldn't." Renji watched a genuine smile spread across his friend's face, appreciating the sight in its rarity.
"And that's why I love you the best," the man said teasingly, "Any man who'll do paperwork for me is worthy of my attentions."
Renji inwardly smiled at his companion's high spirits, enjoying the teasing tone in their conversation. He lived to see the emptiness lifted from whiskey colored eyes; watch them turn a molten gold. Going along with the repartee, he let his face fall into a frown.
"Surely you aren't considering replacing me with someone who has a prettier face, are you?" he asked threateningly, "Because then I'd most definitely have to beat the little punk's ass to make myself feel better."
A soft, husky laugh was muffled behind a tanned hand. "No, I guess not. You're the only man for me, Renji. I'd end up killing anyone else."
"As long as you know it."
A small silence persisted before the other cleared his throat, "Well, I'll be leaving you to your paperwork. I think I'll head to the training grounds. My blades were a tad too slow tonight for my liking, and I need to put in a few hours of instruction with our …younger members."
"You do that. I'll be catching some zs. I'll come get you if anyone wishes an audience."
"Have fun doing paperwork. I'll be preoccupying myself with teaching sixteen-year-olds how to properly wield a blade."
"Be gentle with them, Ichigo. Try not to scare the shit out of them this time."
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