Pairing: Szayel Aporro Grantz/Il Forte Grantz
Rating: PG
Warnings: None for this chapter.
Summary: There is no rescue if everyone thinks you are dead. Szayel Aporro saves Il Forte right before his death. Il Forte is left questioning his brother's seemingly uncharacteristic action, and wondering what it will mean for him.
You Are My Puppet:
Chapter One
by: Ryoko (Naraku's Dark Soul) and Akaadji
The room was dark, corners obscured by shadow, the only light coming from the large monitor on one wall. Fingers rapidly moving across the keyboard, Szayel Aporro continued to monitor the skirmish going on in the human world. On screen, Il Forte--in his released form, the fool--dodged an attack. It was a narrow miss, the redheaded shinigami coming perilously close to maiming him.
Szayel gritted his teeth as a red warning light appeared and began blinking on the side of the screen. His foolish older brother...what was he thinking fighting a shinigami vice-captain? The spectral parasites Szayel had implanted into Il Forte were sending back data to the scientist real-time, and it was not looking good. Il Forte's stamina, while impressive for a Numeros, was nowhere near what it needed to be for this battle. He might have been capable of winning, had he simply held off on releasing his zanpakutou, but the idiot had jumped the gun and was now facing the consequences. Features contorted, Szayel slammed his fist down on the smooth part of his desk.
"Fourty-percent loss of speed and climbing…" he mumbled to himself, reading the data scrolling down the other side of the screen. Il Forte was distracted, didn't notice the shinigami preparing to use a special attack until it was too late.
A red beam of light filled the on-screen display and Szayel's eyes widened as the numbers detailing Il Forte's health took a nosedive.
His fingers flew across the keyboard. He knew he only had a few seconds. Any more than that and Il Forte would be killed. As he finished his preparations and activated his newest invention, the numbers stabilized and Szayel breathed a sigh of relief.
He sat still for a few moments before schooling his features into their usual mask of amused apathy and turning around.
Steps silent on the hard floor, Szayel approached the downed form of his brother. As expected, Il Forte's body was badly damaged, almost beyond repair. With such grave injuries, the Numeros had reverted to his unreleased state. His blonde hair was tangled, caked with half-dried blood from earlier injuries with fresh blood still flowing down his forehead from those more recent.
Szayel grimaced, staring down at the broken man. He knew Il Forte did not generally think things through, but following Grimmjow into the human world had been an entirely foolish act. Szayel supposed Grimmjow was to blame in the end, since Il Forte had to obey him as his Fraccion, but it had been Il Forte's choice to follow the idiot in the first place.
How Szayel hated Grimmjow for taking Il Forte away from him…not that he would ever let the other man know this, much less admit it to himself. It was a thought half-entertained in his mind, never fully explored. Now, staring down at the result of all this--Il Forte's mangled body--the scientist pushed down the repulsive thought, buried it under years of practiced hatred. Smirking, he snapped his fingers and several of his own Fraccion appeared.
"Tend to this…garbage. See that it is repaired." Szayel's Fraccion nodded their assent and moved towards their fallen brethren. These were special to him, successful experiments. Intelligent and deft, but rendered incapable of speech, they were perfect for Szayel's more…private research.
Turning heel, Szayel left his subordinates to their task. He had far better things to do than stand around and watch this. He would return only to review the results or if there was something too critical for his Fraccion to handle.
.
As he struggled back to consciousness, Il Forte tried to recall what had happened before he'd passed out. He remembered blinding pain, resignation as he'd realized that he was going to die and there was no longer anything he could do to stop it, then a flash and...nothing else.
It was obvious he wasn't really dead; he'd died before as a human and it was nothing like this. He was still in pain and disoriented but very much alive. But there was no reason that he should be. That shinigami had hit him before he could even react. He'd felt bone shattering, flesh tearing, and blood spilling out of his body and staining what remained of his clothing.
What did it mean that he was alive after that? He wouldn't have been taken as a prisoner or anything like that, there would be no point to it. Part of him really didn't want to know, if he were to be completely honest with himself. He'd been prepared to die, and at least there would have been some pride in it, unlike whatever the hell it was that had happened instead.
The cool, hard surface he was laying on grew ever more uncomfortable as he remained on it, and he forced himself into a sitting position, holding himself up with one arm as he opened his eyes to look around.
Tables, monitors, and...Szayel. Staring down at him with the same look he always wore. Even with all the possibilities for why he was alive that he couldn't quite think about with his head still spinning as it was, he hadn't expected to lay eyes on his sibling.
"Why did you bring me here, brother?" Whatever it was behind the other arrancar's actions, Il Forte knew that it wouldn't have been simply out of kindness. No arrancar would help if it weren't going to benefit them in some way, and the brother who loathed him so deeply, rescuing him instead of being content to simply watch him die? It didn't make sense. At least, not unless this was a game for Szayel; an attempt to prove that he was inferior or something of that nature. He couldn't understand his sibling most of the time, not that they were together very often. Almost every move Szayel made seemed illogical to him, not that he would ever comment on it with the other man's arrogance being what it was. He got his fill of that attitude without giving him even more fodder.
.
Hours later, Il Forte had largely been restored and lay resting upon one of Szayel's many lab tables. In addition, the Numeros had been implanted with a device that smothered his reiatsu and left him unable to release his zanpakutou. Just because his brother was injured did not mean Szayel was going to go easy on him. Il Forte owed Szayel his life, and he was going to start repaying that debt soon.
Szayel checked the other man's vitals and was just about to leave when Il Forte woke up. The Espada's eyes widened a fraction of an inch and he mentally congratulated himself on creating such exceptional Fraccion.
At Il Forte's question, Szayel suppressed a laugh. "My my, brother. Perhaps your body was not the only thing injured in your fight," he said, voice thick with mock concern. The fool should really be thanking him. It was only because of Szayel and his superb inventions that he was alive now.
Smirking, Szayel closed the file he had been holding.
.
When the cloudiness finally faded fully from his mind, Il Forte realized that it wasn't just wounds making him feel weak; there was something wrong with his reiatsu. Szayel's doing yet again, he was sure of that if nothing else. Probably yet another device implanted in his body against his will. After all, that was something his brother seemed greatly fond of doing to him these days.
Reaching up, he found his hair caked with dried blood. As he ran a hand over it, he realized that there was more than enough mixed into it to make the entirely of his hair matted and tangled. Small flecks of the blood fell onto his shoulders, unnoticed among the large amounts which had already dried onto his clothes. He absently tried to clean his hand on his hakama but only succeeded in flaking off more blood onto the table.
He hadn't thought that he'd had a bad enough head wound to mat most of his hair into a mess. Hadn't seemed at the time that it was that bad; not in the heat of battle trying to kill that damned shinigami and the brat. He held back a chuckle as he found himself wondering how many different near-fatal injuries he'd had before Szayel- no, probably his Fraccion, Szayel wouldn't waste his time - had healed him. Felt like half the blood that should have been inside in was on him right now, just from how heavy everything was. He really shouldn't be amused by any of this, but he couldn't hold it back. Maybe it was a side-effect of all the pain and blood loss. Some sort of half-coherent euphoria...
"My mind is fine, Szayel. Though I greatly appreciate your concern." Returning the sarcasm in kind, Il Forte forced himself to his feet, stumbling slightly and needing to hold onto the table for balance. He couldn't help wondering what exactly was written on those papers in his brother's hand, but it wasn't worth the effort to try and find out.
"I suppose the better question would be what do you want, brother?"
.
Szayel could not help but be amused at Il Forte's attempts at nonchalance. It was clear the Numeros still thought he was free to do what he liked. No matter. Szayel would let his brother cling to that delusion for a little while longer.
"That is the question, isn't it?" Szayel made it sarcasm, but in all reality, it was the truth. He had not had time to examine his motives for saving Il Forte, and preferred not to think too much on the matter. A muscle under Szayel's eye twitched and he frowned, turning away from Il Forte. "So dirty, brother. Clean yourself up before you further taint my laboratory," he said, snapping his fingers and summoning back his Fraccion. They were supposed to have accomplished this earlier, but obviously had not. Perhaps they were not so perfect after all. However, they had done a fine job healing Il Forte and implanting the device in him…
His two diminutive subordinates approached Il Forte, ready to take him to the showers. Szayel watched them for a moment, then turned to leave, taking his brother's file with him.
.
Il Forte couldn't keep the annoyance from showing on his face as his brother danced around the point. It wasn't unusual in the least for him to do so, but it was endlessly tiring. Especially at the moment, where he still felt as though he might fall if he released his tight grip on the table. Obviously there wasn't going to be much point in attempting to get any answers right now, and he really didn't feel like wasting his time for nothing, so he bit back the comment on the tip of his tongue.
...Tainting his laboratory? As though Szayel didn't do all manner of twisted things in here. He never stayed long if he needed to come here, but the faces- if you could even call them that for some of them- of his sibling's Fraccion were different each time and he had no doubt about why. After all, those devices of his had to be tested on something...
Moving himself out of the reach of the insect-like Fraccion that came toward him at Szayel's bidding, he sneered with distain. As usual, they were disgusting; the worst parts of both hollow and human all mixed together. And these ones didn't even have mouths. He forced the stray thought about how they ate out of his mind as he reluctantly followed them with cautious steps. He was feeling too exhausted to argue with the other arrancar any further and truth be told desperately wanted that shower. Getting the mass of blood out of his hair and off of his body would be more than welcome.
.
(More to come from us- )