Title: A Game of Breath
Author: Ephere
Summary: Grimmjow Jaegerjacques: troublemaker, engineering major, serial killer. Ulquiorra Schiffer: pacifist, physics intern, passerby. A forest, a gun, an intent to kill.
A/N: I've been stuck in a writing rut lately, so this is my practice crap. Be warned, it's patchy in places where I took month-long breaks. I'm so distracted. :/ This chapter turns 3 years old soon.
((~The beginning alternates between notes taken by authorities and public announcements. Public notices end in an address to the public for help.~))
Prelude:
A chain of startling murders has arisen in the eastern Karakura area, seemingly committed by a single perpetrator. Authorities have uncovered 2 bodies thus far, both females of the ages 15 and 32, having disappeared within the week. Both women were last seen walking late at night on the fringes of a forested area. Both died of cranial trauma. This murderer has the unusual habit of decapitating the victim, after possibly having raped them, scorching the corpse and leaving the head on the charred remains.
…
Authorities remain unable to find the culprit. Civilians are advised to stay home after dark, lock their houses, and avoid traveling alone. Anyone with information can call 1-800-NOCRIME.
…
Another body has been discovered, 17-year-old Loly Avirrne, allegedly attributed to the serial killer now being referred to as 'The Panther" due to an odd print left beside the head and remains of Avirrne resembling a large cat's paw, remarkably akin to that of a panther's. Avirrne was killed last night between the hours of 2 a.m. and 6 a.m., due to blunt force trauma of the skull against a tree. The remains were discovered in Karakura Forest Preserve, near the Northern Trail, in typical fashion of the burned head placed on the body. She was last seen driving home, possibly intoxicated, after a rave. Her vehicle was discovered less than 100 yards from her body, on the outskirts of Karakura Forest Preserve.
…
No evidence has surfaced…Anyone with information regarding this incident is asked to step forward…
…
The body count accredited to The Panther has climbed to 4 with the addition of 29-year-old Cirucci Thunderwitch, found at 9:00 a.m. this morning in an alley between Marshal Street and Main Boulevard. Autopsy reveals that she passed away not more than five hours before her discovery from decapitation. She had been rendered comatose from a blow to the head with a brick. Another 'paw print' has been discovered, this time carved onto Thunderwitch's forehead with a ballpoint pen. Reports have found that she worked as a prostitute for no particular establishment. Thunderwitch was last seen associating with a man whom she left from her occupation with. No conclusive evidence has been established since co-workers testify that the suspect was wearing a large cap and sunglasses, with a hood pulled over his head, and that they did not get a good look at his face. No one thought of this as odd because, they said, they were all inebriated.
…
Citizens are advised to take necessary precautions: lock all doors and windows and do not travel alone. Leads are still cold. Anyone with information is obliged to contact authorities at…
When you see these things on television, you figure that it always happens to someone else. But unfortunately, to everyone else, we're all someone else.
~The Forest~
If one tasked a companion to sum up Ulquiorra Schiffer in one word, the most likely word would be 'capable'. Or 'detached'. Take a pick; the entire repertoire consisted of synonyms of the aforementioned two.
He led a meticulous life, well planned out and well thought through, scrupulously completed to the last detail. He was a student at the prestigious local university by day and an intern at the particle physics lab by night. Ask anyone who knew him: the human robot somehow managed to pull through anything and everything.
It's his type that you would never expect things like this to happen to.
But providence has a perverse sense of humor.
Fate is known for its most aggravating tendency of answering requests that are not meant to be requests.
For once, he might just have overdone it.
Funny, what would his colleagues say if they were here to hear him now?
It was now 2:07 a.m. The 'dead of the night' as clichés enjoyed branding it. He had class at 6:30 a.m., and there was still a heap of homework he had yet to complete pining for him on his kitchen counter. Mentally, Ulquiorra cursed his being carried away by his lab report on atomic spin. Then he scoffed at the notion, re-concentrated his attention to his surroundings. Sad how particle physics was one of the few things that could pique his interest nowadays.
A recent storm had ripped its way across the area Ulquiorra was now passing through, lumberjacking trees left and right, fairly much destroying all power lines in the district. It was unusually dark; due to a surge in power shortages, this low-function district was put on hold in favor of the busier parts of town.
Ulquiorra didn't mind. The occasional headlights of a passing vehicle illuminated his path more than sufficiently. The bright moon was all the more refreshing without the usual annoyance of opaque light pollution.
Normally, Ulquiorra would have driven home, but the heap of scrap metal had refused to start last weekend, sputtering and wheezing for a mechanic, so the abomination was in the shop. He had been carpooling with companions earlier this week, but today he had overstayed them. Not wanting to trouble the already impatient supervisor, who lived in the opposite direction, Ulquiorra had vouched to walk. It was only a forty-minute drive. If he used shortcuts while walking, and then caught a bus at the main road to the subway, he'd be home in an hour and a half.
So here he was, an adolescent male less than two decades of age, thin of build, a bit under average height, cutting through an unlit area with relatively little residency.
Potentially dangerous and insane, one might think. Especially with a serial killer on the lam.
No, not for Ulquiorra. He had already considered all possible outcomes and listed points against them in descending order of relevancy.
First, the murderer—Ulquiorra refused to acknowledge some fame-starved psychopath by that ridiculous moniker—only haunted the eastern areas of town, where the population was heavy enough to provide a rush, but also spare enough to afford privacy. He didn't think this relatively territorial criminal would stray too far from his comfort zone. It irritated him to make the comparison, but exactly as a large cat would not stray from marked ground. Secondly, the killer usually took rest periods of 20-33 days between killings, with increments of time between strikes gradually rising. The last body—Sander-wich or something like that—was found not 2 days ago. The gore should have sated him for at least another few days. Third, although this area was sparsely populated, its crime rate was also proportionally low—the people were good, the location was secluded. If the idiot wanted publicity, a corpse in such a place would not be found for weeks—too much time for his careful planning to decay in. Fourth, Ulquiorra was male. The killer was most likely a rapist, all his victims having been female. Fifth, Ulquiorra had once come out from a four-man armed mobbing with only a skinned knee. Sixth, one gets the point.
There was no reason El Pantera would possibly bother him.
He was venting.
He had just gotten off the phone with what could be—have been—considered his best friend, Nnoitra Jiruga. It was not a pleasant conversation.
Grimmjow Jaegerjacques decided that he hated having friends. They always nagged you about returning money you borrowed from them.
Why couldn't Jiruga see that he wasn't ready yet?
He said he'd have the money by next month, and Grimmjow's word was truth. He always kept his promises.
Grimmjow Jaegerjacques, blue-haired, eccentric college student majoring in engineering, with a penchant for trouble and an obsession with power. He often times walked on the wrong side of the law, but he tended to stay close enough to the divide that he could easily hop back over if needed. He drank on occasion, smoked and shot up too. But he was careful not to make the latter too much of a habit, since he hated being tied down and had no time for a petty addiction. For a juvenile delinquent, he was racking up relatively admirable grades. He was on a temporarily disbanded traveling soccer team. He was being considered for a scholarship. He wasn't going to end up a homeless bum shot to death in a putrid gangland. He had a direction, a destination, and a good path to get there.
There wasn't too much wrong with his life. Just some…issues. Money and friends. The usual.
And the fact that he was wanted for murder.
But for now, he focused on lamenting his monetary and companion troubles.
His chosen method of expressing his financial and social woes? Driving around aimlessly. Which in turn burned up more funds, but that could be disregarded for the emotional therapy the hum of the automobile engine supplied.
Dazedly meandering down endless turns, he found himself in a mutedly lit tiny pocket of a district far up in southwestern Karakura town. Or so his GPS told him. He'd never been here before, and the lack of civilization relaxed and alarmed him all at once. This was something new. Did he like it?
Grimmjow decided that he'd give this place a chance. The little cluster of closed convenience shops along a narrow main road gave the district a hint of ungainly charisma. Awkward, but disarming. The sparse copse of woods next to that was what made him concede that he did like this place after all. Grimmjow had always been fond of nature. Especially forests. Which is why he killed around them. His victims could die within the confines of the forest as a last consolation. The forest was witness to his darkest sins, a confidant who wouldn't divulge his secrets no matter what the price tag.
The forest was silent, strong, reliable.
Unlike people.
He came to a T-shaped intersection. Grimmjow eyed the two roads: right or left? His fingernails tapped against the pliable leather of his steering wheel. He had time. There was no one behind him to blare that obscene horn or spout billingsgate about his indecision.
He decided on right. He liked being right.
The right path wound slowly around a Lilliputian hill, then snaked into a cluster of closed shops, before evening out along the edge of the run-down convenience stores, the road now bordering a toy wood.
Aquamarine eyes glistened at the sight of towering conifers. Nature's majesty at its best. His gaze slid up and down the regal woods, greedily devouring the appeasing visuals. Green was the least taxing color to the eyes, good for the vision.
A small movement caught his gaze up ahead, magnetizing his icy blue gaze as a cat to a mouse.
A slight form had just turned out of an alley and was now making its way along the torn-up sidewalk. Grimmjow, interest stimulated, slowed his pace. It was a slim, feminine frame.
'Ah' His teeth touched his dry lip. He hadn't planned on making a kill tonight, but an opportunity like this didn't just careen into his lap every day. This was fate's way of appeasing him. He did need to vent, after all.
Mind formulating a strategy, Grimmjow passed the small figure, still going at a speed fast enough to be inconspicuous while slow enough to observe his prey.
He eyed the form in the rear view mirror shortly. Not many criminals were overly choosy about their victims if they were total strangers, but Grimmjow prided himself to think that he had taste.
'Short, weak, and alone. A combination I absolutely love…' It helped, once the target passed a flickering store sign, that she was pretty good-looking. 'A little on the pale side, but hey, not like I can exactly get caramel beach babes every time.' Grimmjow narrowed his eyes to scrutinize a little more. She had a delicate face, large eyes, and a slender build. 'Huh. Cute and innocent, eh? Not usually my type, but since I'm all about new stuff tonight… It's a good change from slutty. I did the world a service with Lightning-bitch.' She had dark hair, a messenger bag, a quaint little suit-coat thing, and nice legs. Good enough. More than good enough.
Now came the hard part. Grimmjow committed every detail the girl would give off to memory. Gauging the best way of approach required utmost precision. There. She walked around a puddle instead of through it. She took firm, low steps. She was in a hurry, but took the time to appreciate the night air. She didn't look around her every second, but her expression was guarded, as though she knew what she was doing. She didn't hunch forward, but neither did she throw her shoulders back to pop her chest. He imagined that if she were to stop and stand, her hands wouldn't hang beside her, they'd be either crossed or tucked in pockets, some closed gesture of the like. She wouldn't stand slouched, but her spine wouldn't be straight. There would be a subtle but distinct jut to her hips. It wasn't much, but he had seen enough to make a choice.
Grimmjow turned a corner, and the girl was out of sight. Hurriedly making a circle, Grimmjow found a subtle little home with seemingly no residents and parked his car there, right alongside the entrance to the forest as to be a bit more inconspicuous. Exiting, Grimmjow flipped open his trunk to retrieve a backpack from the spare tire compartment.
He brushed his fingers along the slight bumps in the fabric, causing a smirk to flicker onto his face, lambent as candlelight.
He ran a rough tongue along cracking lips.
The hunt begins.
Ulquiorra allowed himself a puff of appreciation as he stepped from the splintered concrete into pliable grass. The looming trees were a pleasing replacement for scenery for the closed up quick-marts. He was now walking alongside silent giants, their ancient grace exuding into his every stride, their soundless tales whispering in his head. Another reason he had chosen to walk: there was no other place where nature in its rawest form brushed up so closely along the tassels of corrupted humanity.
Taking another inhale of the fresh scent of nature, still frayed by noxious fumes of civilization, Ulquiorra let his eyelids fall and relished his stoic neighbors, this isolation, this…particular indulgence of…of being the only soul awake.
His eyes were still shut when the hand closed around his face.
~End Chapter 1~
A/N: A bit too fast for my tastes, but what's done is done and I'm lazy. ...It's been so long since I wrote this and I just realized I haven't gotten any better. *cries*
Ahem. But here's how Ulquiorra would break it down for you.
"Reviews = Updates."