Captain Morgan: Prologues are annoying, yet so important sometimes. Anyway here it is! WARNING! This chapter contains tragic rape, so beware! Also, I like pie… I'm going to tell you guys random shit so…yeah. RE-EDITED this chapter. Hopefully I got all the mistakes.

Kannibal Katie: The rape is not tragic ._. Um, yeahh. Just enjoy.

Prologue: Lost and Found

They left us for dead,
forgot what we said.
From the start we knew we were broken.
This life is a glitch something we should fix.
From the start we were ghosts in the machine.

Ghost Town – Ghosts in the Machine

Ichigo POV

I woke up on the cold, dingy concrete floor having just fallen off the old bed situated in the corner of my small cell. Sweat coated my naked torso, long orange locks stuck to my back and neck while my hands shook like an earthquake and my mouth dried up like a desert. I could feel my heart slam against my chest and pound in my ears. I took a deep, shuddering breath as I tried to calm myself.

It was just a dream.

'Ya okay, king?' I think I just shit myself.

"Dear god, Shiro. Are you trying to kill me?" I scowled as his cackling laughter rang in my head.

My scowl deepened as I heard the familiar sound of a silver spoon being dragged across the metal bars of the cells. A high pitched screech of 'Wake up ya lazy bastards!' echoed in the dimly lit corridor. The annoying clinking finally stopped when fairy-like shoes, with tinkling bells on the curved and pointed ends, appeared in front of my cell. I looked up at the seven foot giant who glared down at me with his dark beady eye - he had a make shift eye patch covering the other (a simple white bandana wrapped around his head).

"Talkin' to yerself again, strawberry?" I rolled my eyes as I huffed and pulled myself from the ground.

"Just do your job and leave me the hell alone."

"Tch, whatever." He pulled a large set of keys from his pocket, the movement causing them to hit one another and clink noisily. Once the cell door slid open I shuffled down the hall behind the other inmates.

Cell block 15 in Hueco Mundo's one and only Las Noches Penitentiary has been my home for the last 5 years. According to the law I was sentenced to 45 years based on a first degree murder charge. If you ask me, the bastard deserved what he got. But of course my opinion doesn't count.

I entered the communal showers, which were stark white like everything else in the prison. Playful banter was shot around by the other inmates and boisterous laughter bounced off the walls echoing throughout the room. I watched the steam curl around the bare feet of my fellow inmates as I divested myself of my prison jumper. I strode towards an empty stall keeping my eyes downwards so as to not attract any attention. The weird spoon loving warden had given me some advice, and I was sure as hell gonna follow it. I turned the silver knob till the scorching water cascaded out and beat into my back. I grabbed the shampoo, making sure to thoroughly coat my hands before I began to wash my hair. This task took longer than it normally would because my hair was so long, and I refused to have it cut. After ridding my hair of any leftover shampoo I reached for the bar of soap. As I washed myself I could feel eyes on me causing a shiver to run down my spine. In my haste to get out of the showers I failed to notice a looming figure behind me. When his hand clamped over my mouth I dropped the bar of soap; it landed with a dull thud that echoed in the now quite room. I realized that everyone else had cleared out, and I was trapped. My assailant's other arm snaked around my waist as he pulled my body against his own. I felt his arousal pressing against my back side. This man was huge. His head lowered to be level with my ear, his warm breath fanning out across the appendage.

"Ya dropped the soap." I felt his chest rumble with silent laughter. "Ya gunna pick that up?" Ginjō.

I shook my head as I squirmed trying to get away. This only served to anger him as he roughly shoved me against the cool tile wall. He yanked on my hair, pulling my head back forcefully. I glared up at him and spit in his face. I smirked. Ginjō slammed me into the wall once more.

"Listen here, brat. I'm done playin' games. I wanna get off and yer just gunna shut the fuck up 'n enjoy it. Got it?"

He took my silence as an agreement and pressed me firmly against the wall, holding me still. My knees felt weak and my body was shaking. I squeezed my eyes shut as he rammed into me. I screamed, feeling as if I was being torn in half. My fingers clawed at the tiled wall attempting to get a grip on something.

"I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!" He picked up his pace as his hands found purchase on my hips, holding me still in a bruising grip. He was panting in my ear, grunting like an animal. It was disgusting, I felt disgusting. Tears started streaming down my face as I begged a silent plea of help.

"Shiro, help me. Please."

I could tell he was close. His thrusts became sporadic and his pace increased. I felt Shiro pressing on the forefront of my mind, his angry curses and screams echoing in my head as he tried to take control.

"Say my name. Ginjō. Say it."

I shook my head as I felt my conscious slowly slip and fade into black. The last thing I heard was Shiro's watery voice dripping with malice and hate.

"Ginjō. I'm gunna rip yer dick off 'n make ya eat it."

I regained conscious. My eye lids felt heavy and my head was fuzzy. I pulled myself from the ground, my legs weak and shaking under my weight. A shooting pain skittered up my spine that caused me to nearly fall to the ground again. I raised my arm to brush the hair from my eyes finding that my arms felt like wet noodles. I peered down at my body, my brows furrowing as I assessed the damage. My black prison jumper was ripped and torn in several places. Dirt was caked under my nails, dried blood coated my knuckles. I assumed it was the blood of an unfortunate victim that Shiro came upon. Bruises had begun to blossom in various shades of blue, green and yellow on my tan skin, covering the length of my arms and legs. My lip was split and my left eye was swollen shut.

"Shiro, what the hell did you do?"

'I saved you. I will protect you till the very end.'

Visions of screaming prison guards, of Ginjō and of bright crimson flashed before me causing pain to shoot through my body, ending with an intense headache. I dug the heel of my hands into my eyes hoping to rid myself of the horrible images.

"Yes, but at what cost?! One man's life is not worth so many others! You're becoming just like him."

'Don't you dare compare me to that monster.'

My headache increased as Shiro rampaged within my inner world. I could tell he was hurt and frustrated.

'How could ya say that, king? Huh?!'

I slumped to the ground, the pain too much for my body to handle; my eyes slid shut.

Naked trees danced in my swirling vision and stilled after I blinked a few times, bringing my world into focus. I sat up, squinting as the setting sun shone in my eyes. I combed my hair with my fingers attempting to untangle it and rid it of the dead leaves that littered the ground. After standing to my feet, albeit very shakily, I took in my surroundings. I groaned.

Where am I? Fuck.

"Oi, Shiro. You got us into this mess. Wanna help me out here?" I continued to scan the area as I waited for an answer. I frowned. He wasn't going to answer. He's pissed.

I decided to start walking. An escaped convict doesn't stand a good chance standing in the middle of nowhere when there's probably a bounty out for him.

As I began walking I probed my mind for Shiro. It seemed as if he had receded into the farthest corners of my mind because I couldn't feel him at all. I felt uneasy without his comforting and protective presence. My eyes darted every which way, scanning for any signs of trouble. The noises coming from the dark made me pick up the pace, and I soon found myself running through the woods. My hair whipped out behind me as my legs pumped. There was a clearing through a thicket of bushes just a few feet ahead of me. I moved through the foliage as fast as my tired body would allow. I broke free from the branches and leaves to find myself on a cracked and worn sidewalk. A smirk spread on my features as I looked down the sidewalks making sure no one was roaming the streets. When I confirmed that the roads were deserted I began my trek under the flickering street lights as I tried to regulate my breathing. It seemed that I was in an abandoned neighborhood. I glanced up at the faded green sign at the corner of an intersection; the words there caught my eye. Tsuki Dōro*. Hope blossomed in my chest as I bolted down the road, weaving through the familiar alleyways and short cuts until I found the house I was looking for. I stopped in the overgrown lawn, short of breath. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart thumping behind my ribs. Shiro had brought me home.

The house had become a faded yellow, the green door hung limply from its hinges, having been broken down for awhile. I moved through the bright green grass till I stood on the door step. I took a deep breath and slowly entered. My bare feet moved along the smooth wooden floor that was now covered in a thick layer of dust. I stood in what used to be the living room. Nothing remained of it expect my memories and the faint smell of the vanilla incense my mom used to be so fond of. I pulled myself from my spot and trudged up the stairs that creaked quietly under my weight. My fingers trailed smoothly over the wall where family photos once hung. I passed my parents' bedroom, and my sisters', only stopping when I came to the door that held a small sign with the number '15' painted in red. I pushed on the old door with the pads of my fingers causing it to swing open. I strode to the corner where my bed used to sit and knelt down. I felt along the wooden boards, my fingers moving against the grooves and dips until I found the loosened piece of wood. My nails slipped into a small crevice giving me leverage and allowing the wooden board to pull free from its brothers. I lay the slab aside and retrieved a silver box followed by a matching key. After unlocking my treasure I flipped the box open, a smile stretching over my face as I peered at the contents. In the box sat 805,000 Japanese yen*, (about the equivalent to 10,000 U.S dollars) a fake passport and I.D. Hichigo Shirosaki. Creative, huh? I slipped a few hundred yen from the box before relocking it and set out to buy some new clothes.

I wandered into town, searching for a clothing store. I had to keep to the shadows in order to avoid passing cars although they were few and far apart. I came upon an old thrift store labeled 'Soul Society'. There was an alleyway entrance to the store, which was perfect. I rounded the corner, pulling a bobby pin from my hair, making orange strands fall down into my face. I deftly picked the lock, wiggling the hair pin around till I heard the tumbler give. I grinned, pushed the door open, slipped inside, and closed it shut behind me with a resounding click. I tossed the few hundred yen onto the glass counter hoping it was enough for what I needed.

The shop was quaint and overflowing with random knick-knacks, clothing, books, and music. The smell of pot lingered in the air and seeped into my prison jumper. Posters of Bob Marley and Nirvana covered the wall as well as signs boasting about peace and love.

I moved through the aisles of clothing searching for something suitable to wear. I pulled clothes from the rack and swiftly changed before checking myself out in the full length mirror.

My feet were clad in old vintage black chucks. Acid-washed jeans hugged my lean legs with a black belt holding them on my hips. A blue One Piece tee covered my torso. My long orange locks were pulled back and stuffed into a gray beanie. My bangs swept over my eyes and framed my face. Ray Bans covered my eyes and completed the look. It felt good to be rid of the prison jumper.

I pulled an extra set of clothing off the racks and stuffed them into a small black duffel bag along with my silver box. Now that I had what I needed I left the small shop through the back and continued my walk down the street till I came upon a bus stop. After plopping down on the bench I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my head on top.

What am I going to do? I can't stay here. They're looking for me. Should I leave Japan? But where to?

"Didn't yer pop's crazy old friend move 'ta the states? Maybe he could hook a bitch up."

I spluttered. "Shiro! The fuck? And I'm not a bitch!"

"Whatever. You deserve it."

A frown tugged at my lips. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. My emotions got the best of me."

"S'alright. You've had a hard day, Ichi. But think about it. We could go 'ta the States and start over."

"Yeah, I like that. Where in the U.S though?"

I could practically feel Shiro's manic grin. "We're goin' ta Cali baby."

A few hours and an awkward bus ride later I was at Japan's international airport. After finding the right flight, booking a ticket, and waiting agonizingly long, I was on the plane.

I was surprised that I had no trouble getting through security. I expected my face to be plastered all over the TV screens and printed in news papers. With the chance of that happening it probably wasn't a good idea to be here, but the thought of being free was glued to my brain. I have to get away.

I watched eagerly out the window, excited for takeoff. This was my first flight. Soon everyone was aboard the plane and all the safety procedures were explained. Next thing I knew we were soaring above the clouds. I drifted into a deep sleep while watching the giant puffs of white pass. When I awoke we were about to touch down in Huntington Beach, California*. The plane landed smoothly and we all disembarked. I stretched my tired limbs before navigating my way through the crowds. I soon found that the average American was a few inches taller than my 5'11. I finally found what I was looking for: a payphone. I had already converted some of my yen into American dollars and coins. I slid two quarters into the machine and dialed the number I knew by heart. He picked up on the second ring.

"Good day, this is Urahara's Shoten! What can I do for ya?"

"Oi, hat 'n' clogs, it's me."

"Yare, yare*. Kuro-"

"Yeah, ya old fart. Now listen I need a favor."

"I'm listening." I imagined him waving his dumbass fan. An old habit he had when he was thinking.

I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly as I began to explain myself. "I'm in a bit of a situation and I need a place to stay. I'm already in the states, and I'm gunna try and find a job. I can pay rent and even help out at your store and –"

"Say no more. I have the perfect place."

"You're a life saver, hat 'n' clogs."

For the first time in a long time I felt as if things were going to get better.

After a couple weeks I had finally settled into my new home. It was a two level apartment, complete with a kitchen full of modern furnishings, 2 nice-sized bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, and a large living room decked out with a flat screen and stereo system. Hat 'n' clogs had gone overboard, and I was more than grateful. I had also found a job at some Chinese take-out place. Luckily, the owner speaks Japanese because my English is far from perfect. I had also gotten a haircut. My unruly orange locks now fell to my shoulders. It killed me to cut the hair that reminded me so much of my mother, but I couldn't afford to be caught. I had to change some things.

I lay spread eagle on my bed searching for a roommate on the new laptop Kisuke had so generously given me. Rent was hard to pay and an extra hand would lessen the load.

A loud bang and hushed voices broke me from my search and made my heart pound in my chest.

What the hell?

Grimmjow POV

The room was thick with cigar smoke; it billowed out and moved around the faces of my peers. I lifted my own Cuban cigar to my lips and took a slow drag, filling my lungs with the smooth, sweet vapor. I held it in for a few seconds before releasing it to interlace with the already impenetrable air. I was sitting at a circular poker table centered in the middle of a small storage room. A single light fixture hung above the table, flickering every now and then, providing the room with a soft, hazy glow.

Though we were sitting at a poker table, my coworkers and I were playing a slightly different card game: Spoons. I was dealt my four cards and waited for Ulquiorra to start the new round. As I waited, I looked around at my opponents who were also my colleagues and closest friends. We all worked in a collective organization of Japan's best and brightest criminal officers and investigators. We were known nationwide as the Espada under Aizen Sosuke, the Attorney General of Japan. There were ten of us, each specializing in a different skill that made the organization lethal and effective. We all had a gothic styled number tattooed to different parts of our body, representing the order in which we were initiated into the Espada.

To my right is Neliel Tu Oderschvank, a gorgeous, busty chick with long, sea foam green hair and large, hazel eyes. If I didn't see her as a sister, I would probably fuck her; she's the only woman I truly respect. Nel specializes in the rehabilitation of juvenile delinquents. Essentially, she scares kids straight, and she's really fuckin' good at it to. She has a large three inked onto the center of her back, which makes her look even more intimidating to the poor kids she works with.

Next to Nel is Szayelaporro Granz, or Szayel (…or ya could just call 'em douche bag) for short. He has shoulder length pink hair and amber eyes that analyze and dissect every living thing they come across. He's surprisingly tall for his thin, wiry frame, standing at 6'1". Szayel is a genius with anything related to science, especially the human anatomy. He is the head of the forensics department dealing with anything and everything found at crime scenes. Szayel also deals with any injuries that may befall any of the Espada or Aizen and his lackeys: Gin and Tousen. He's awesome, but can be a complete douche nozzle sometimes. His tattoo consists of eight parallel lines over and under his left eye; there are four black, gothic roman numerals above the eye and another four below it.

Next is Starrk Coyote, who is currently slumped in his chair catching a quick nap between rounds. How he gets to sleep in a minute, which is around the time it takes to shuffle the deck and re-deal the cards, is beyond me. The man is large, almost 6'2" with thickly corded muscle along his whole body. Starrk has unkempt, wavy dark brown hair and droopy, blue-gray eyes that are almost always closed. He is the arms specialist of the organization; guns are his life and he knows how to use them better than anyone. Although lazy and often times lethargic, Starrk is the most dependable guy I have ever worked with, and he is one of my best friends. His tattoo is a gothic number one that's etched into the back of his left hand.

Speaking of best friends; next to Starrk sits Nnoitra Gigla, the tallest mother fucker I have ever met. He stands at 7 feet, with shoulder-length, straight, black hair, beady dark gray eyes (with an eye patch covering his left eye), and a huge piano-key grin. Most people think he's a weird-ass creep because of his affinity for a certain round eating utensil, but he grows on you after awhile. Actually, Nnoi has a rather large collection of spoons that he is very protective of… I'm guessing he has mommy issues but who knows. Anyway, he has a number five tattooed on his tongue that looks totally badass. Nnoi is in charge of Japan's top security prison, Las Noches, which is where we were all currently residing. Though he is the overseer of the prison, he gets bored often, so sometimes he will come on recovery missions with me.

Next to Nnoi is Yammy Llargo, an extremely buff giant with a large, rigid head and rolling muscles all over his body. The top of his head is bald, but he has a black ponytail that falls over his back. He also has a short black beard that frames his large, square jaw. Yammy is in charge of withdrawing information from unwilling detainees, and his success rate is around 95%; the other 5% didn't make it through the "info-extraction" stage. Yammy is surprisingly loyal and gentle with his friends, but he can become a scary bastard when angered. He has a large, black ten on his left shoulder, being the last person recruited to the Espada.

To Yammy's right, and my left, sat Ulquiorra Cifer, a gothic looking man who has green streaks tattooed down his pale cheeks starting from the bottom of his emerald green eyes. One night, a drunken Nnoi and I had brought him to a tattoo parlor to get them done, and since he was just as wasted, he allowed us to do it. They actually looked super badass, and Ulquiorra eventually grew fond of them. He's small and freakishly pale with jet black hair and a forever stoic expression plastered to his face. He's in charge of suicides within the prison and is also the teams' psychologist. We all have to pass his psychoanalysis test every year which is a major pain in the ass. Ulquiorra's gothic styled four is inscribed on the left side of his chest, right above his heart.

Then there's me in all my glory. I'm the sixth Espada, often known as Sexta, and I have exotic, European looks that make all the women (and plenty of men) fawn over me. I have electric, gravity-defying, blue hair and azure eyes to match. My occupation is to recover escaped convicts, dead or alive. In other words, I'm a bounty hunter, and I am the best in the world. My black, gothic six is emblazoned on the lower left side of my back and titled slightly to the left.

Currently, I'm wearing a white long-sleeved, button-down dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up above my elbows to reveal corded forearms and the sleek, black panther tattoo slinking its way down my arm. The top three buttons of my shirt are undone to show off my chest. I have on skinny, black dress slacks that show of my muscular legs, and attached to my pants, are black suspenders. A solid black tie hangs low around my neck to complete my casual business attire. I'm also sporting black square-framed glasses that make me look "Just fucking fantastic!" according to Nel.

There were three other Espada who were not currently present in the break room. Barragón is this old fart of a guy who works as our techie; he does everything that involves the use of a computer: hacking, tracking aliases, background checks, fake I.D's, etc. Then there's this black guy, Zom-something, who deals with the victims of intense crimes. We never see him since he's always assisting the plaintiffs in court. He is also our organization's lawyer in case we need him. Finally we had Aaroniero, who always wears the weirdest shit and keeps to himself. He refuses to befriend any of us, and seems to have a rather large stick up his ass. He's the undercover specialist and always gathers most of the information needed for cases.

I took another puff of my cigar right before the new round started. 'Spoons' is a simple game. Each person has four cards in hand. The deck starts with the dealer and when the round starts, the dealer will begin drawing cards in rapid succession looking for cards that could give him/her a four of a kind. If a card is unwanted, you pass it to the person to your right and they take it. Every person can only hold four cards at one time, so when you find a card you need, you replace it for another card and pass that card on. The cards will circulate around and back to the dealer so that, when the deck runs out, he can draw from the newly formed pile. When someone gets a four-of-a-kind they will grab a spoon, which is located in the middle of the table. There is always one less spoon than the amount of players, so that, when the first person snatches a spoon, everyone else is supposed to quickly grab for the remaining spoons. The person who does not get a spoon gets a letter, and the first person to spell out the word 'SPOON' loses.

I looked down at my hand again; I had two 2s, a 7, and a queen. Ulquiorra started the round, swiftly checking the cards and passing them on to me. I was on a mission to find my two's and moved the cards with lightning speed to Nel. As cards passed, the tension in the room amplified, backs straightened, and eyes darted around with super speed. Even Starrk sat ridged in his chair, not one to ever lose a card game. Suddenly, Nel's hand snaked out to grab one of Nnoi's simple silver spoons, and in less than a second everyone was diving in to grab their own. I grabbed a spoon only to be challenged when Nnoitra's hand wrapped around the base of it.

"Oh, hell nah bitch!" I yelled and dived across the table to punch an unsuspecting Nnoitra directly in the jaw. He let go of the spoon in favor of grabbing his aching chin.

"Grimmjow, you mother fucker!" I doubled over in laughter as Nnoi clutched at his face, then I looked down at my trophy.

When I held it up for the world to see, everyone froze, including me. An eerie silence filled the room and I gulped. Fear clutched at my insides, and I clamed up. Oh fuck! I slowly looked down into Nnoitra's eyes and took a step backwards. I had accidently bent the spoon in the midst of all the chaos, and now my best friend's face was contorted with a demonic anger that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Look N-Nnoi, bro, I'm truly so-"

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep, Jeagerjaques." Nnoitra interrupted me. I laughed nervously.

"Nnoi, buddy, I can fix it man, look." I bent the spoon back in place and held it out to him. "See, all better, ne?" Nnoitra lunged at me, tackling me on the ground. He tried to pin me down, but I was too quick and slipped out of his hold. Before he could react, I pushed him away from me and stood up. As Nnoitra tried to attack me again, the break-room door opened. Everyone turned to look at the new arrival, Gin.

Ichimaru Gin is a fox-like man with silvery hair, and eyes that were narrowed to the point that they appeared to be closed. He always has a wide, toothless grin plastered on his face yet it's always so condescending. Gin is another one of my good friends and I preferred him to Tousen, Aizen's second assistant who was a major dick head. Gin looked over at me and Nnoi and chuckled.

"Did ya piss 'em off again Grimmy?" he was referring to Nnoi of course, and I scowled. "I didn't do shit. Just accidently bent one of his oh-so-precious spoons." Gin's grin widened, stretching across the expanse of his face.

"Oh dear. What're we gunna do with the both of you?"

"Fuck off Gin!" Nnoi said, his anger slowly ebbing away, replaced with irritation. Gin ignored him and walked over to me. In his hand was a vanilla folder, and I immediately straightened up, knowing I had a case.

"Has Nnoi told you about the boy who escaped?" I looked over at Nnoi whose face drained of color.

"No, it must've slipped his mind." Gin nodded and handed me the folder.

"You leave as soon as you are ready. Everything will be explained to you on the way to the airport." I looked up at him, confused. "Wait! Where am I going?"

"America. The kid moved fast, getting' on an airplane within 12 hours of his escape, and by the time we found his alias, he was gone. We tracked the kid's second identity, Shirosaki, and found that he was on a one-way flight 'ta California. Once you arrive, an FBI agent will be waitin' fer ya with more details." I nodded and grinned, showcasing my overly sharp canines. It's been awhile since I had to leave the country for a mission and the thought of the hot ass I'd find in Cali heightened my spirits.

"Oh and before I ferget," Gin said as he turned to leave the room "Nnoitra will be goin' with ya." And with that he walked out of the room.

I turned to look at Nnoi. "I'll meet ya at the front gate in an hour, don't be late." Then I followed Gin out the door to go get packed.

I went to my apartment, which was located in a small building on the penitentiary grounds. All the Espada lived in that building, and we all had our own full apartment. Each floor of the building was a different apartment and the order of Espada was matched with the floor levels of the apartment complex, so obviously I was on the sixth floor. My apartment was complete with a full-sized kitchen and bar, a full bathroom, a bedroom, an office, a dining room, and a living room.

I grabbed my travelling bag and started throwing in clothes, toiletries, plenty of condoms, and my anger journal for the trip. Ulquiorra makes me keep a journal, because he's an ass, with everything that I do or feel in it. He says it "helps with my extreme anger issues and hot headed tendencies". I find it stupid, but Aizen backed him up and now I'm stuck looking like a little bitch writing in my fucking diary.

In a special transport case, I pack my favorite weapons: a twin set of Beretta 92FS 9mm pistols with silencers attached, a Benelli M4 semi-automatic shotgun that I call Pantera (which is my favorite weapon), and a folding Gerber DMF knife. I have four boxes of ammunition for my pistols and two for the shotgun. Once I had all my shit together I left my room, heading for the prison entrance.

Nnoi was waiting for me at the gate and together we walked to my car which was located in a parking garage just outside the penitentiary fence. He had a surly expression on his face which told me he was still pissed about the spoon. I couldn't give two shits though and knew that he would eventually get over it. We approached my car, a black 1985 De Tomaso Pantera GT5-S supercar. She was my pride and joy, sleek, luxurious, and fast. We climbed in and took off, heading for the airport.

"So, you gunna tell me 'bout the breakout?" I asked Nnoi.

"Well… this kid's been in jail since he was 18. Apparently, he killed a famous serial killer who was the main suspect to the murder of his mom years ago. The guy was found innocent, there wasn't enough evidence I think; I guess Kurosaki decided 'ta get revenge."

"wait, Kurosaki Ichigo?" I asked, recognizing the name.

"Yeah. Honestly, he doesn't seem the type 'ta kill outta cold blood 'cause I've been round him an' he's real docile, but I guess ya never know. He got out by stealin' mah keys while I was sleepin'. We gotta meet this FBI guy in California called shin-somethin' and he'll get us through customs and shit."

I nodded, knowing I would be studying the vanilla envelope Gin had given me.

When we reached the airport, I parked my car in one of the VIP parking lots and got my shit out of the trunk. We picked up our tickets, checked in our carry-on, and passed through security. Nnoitra was stopped and questioned about the abundance of spoons in his carry-on, but after he told them to fuck off and flashed his badge, they let him through. Honestly, I tried not laughing, but I couldn't help it; Nnoi was fucking retarded for bringing his entire spoon collection. Anyway, since we were Espada, we were allowed to bring weapons (though no bombs) on the airplanes, even on international flights. Once on the plane I started flipping through the envelope, excited for the challenge of a chase. Kurosaki was going down.

"Bitch Journal" Entries

Day 1

We touched down in Cali.

I swear I wanted 'ta beat the shit outta Nnoi. He was polishing his spoon sets on the plane and talking the whole damn time. Who the fuck brings spoons on a fuckin' plane!? UGH!

Only good part was fuckin' the plane bitch in the bathroom.

Met Shinji too. That guy is just as weird as Nnoi.

The place we're stayin' at is fuckin' small, so I made Nnoi get another room.

Went to a bar 'ta check out the goods. Found a nice piece o' ass and banged her. She had orange hair, my favorite!

Day 3

Kurosaki Ichigo is smart. He ain't usin' anything we can track 'em with. Makes it real fun for me. Need 'ta get laid again though.

Bought more ammo for Pantera today.

Oh, and, Nnoi has been annoying the FBI guy and I'm pretty sure this Shinji guy is ready to beat him in the face. At least he ain't botherin' me.

Day 4

Been askin' around 'ta see if anyone recognizes the kid. No one yet, but while I was out I got a number from a chick name Harribel.

I called her up and she came 'ta my apartment. Slut was packin' a huge rack and a nice ass. Heh, we fucked like rabbits for hours.

Day 6

Shinji stole one of Nnoi's favorite spoons and ATE CEREAL with it! I think Nnoi might have had a heart attack, 'cause he started hyperventilating and then he fainted. Maybe even foamed at the mouth a little. That shit was funny.

Talked to this bald guy (his head looked like a dick) who saw Ichigo workin' at a Chinese restaurant. HA! What the fuck, the kid's Japanese!? Going to check it out and see what I can find.

Day 7

Asian Chef was hilarious. I couldn't understand him and every time he talked I burst out laughing. Turns out Kurosaki was the restaurant's bitch, aka: delivery boy. I decided to order Sum Yung Gai, hehe, to go.

Anyway, Mr. Wang had the wrong info on Kurosaki. The kids crafty, gotta give 'im that! Going to stake out the area though, since it seems the kid didn't leave the area near the airport. Probably in case he needs to make a quick get-away.

Fucked that Harribel chick again. She's not as good the second time around.

Day 8

Nnoitra finally did something today. Seems the kid got a haircut, and he was captured on traffic cameras.

The kid was walkin' so he might live nearby. We may be close.

Went 'ta visit the U.S air force base that was close by. Met some cool guys like Kenny and Shuuhei.

Also went to a strip club, and I found out Shinji was a male stripper in college. HAHAHA that's funny as shit! I made fun of him later for it.

Day 9

Slow day. This Kurosaki kid is starting 'ta piss me off. We keep getting sightings around the city, but he hasn't used any credit cards, doesn't have a car, and no apartments are under his name or his alias, Shirosaki, so we can't find him.

Emailed the old fart, Barragón, 'ta see if he can track a second alias.

Met a guy at a bar. He was cute: had curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. We had some really hardcore sex. HA! I couldn't remember his name, so I called 'em Pinky cause he was wearing a pink shirt.

Day 11

One of Shinji's FBI buddies found us a potential second alias on the kid, Hichigo. Wow, creative right?

The guy's gunna send me the info, hopefully soon.

I went to the gym to work out, and got into a fight with this huge guy. I choked a bitch.

Day 13

We found him!

I was riding in a black SUV, on our way to Ichigo's apartment. Anticipation and excitement caused my adrenal glands to start working furiously. It felt like electricity was running through my veins as the thrill of the hunt worked its magic on me. I was grinning wickedly as I toyed with Pantera in my lap. My two Baretta were secured in a chest harness around my torso along with the knife, extra rounds of ammunition, and a grenade just in case. I loved grenades; their explosive power and unpredictable nature was thrilling to me, and they were fun to use too. I was also wearing a bullet proof vest, in case Kurosaki was packing, which was under the tight black t-shirt I was wearing.

Nnoi was beside me with an equally insane grin on his face. He was sporting a M4A1 Carbine semi-automatic assault rifle, which he had obtained from Shinji (probably by sucking the guys dick). He also had a set of .50 caliber IMI Desert Eagle Mark XIX handguns strapped to his chest, along with the same Gerber knife as me.

Shinji was with us too, sitting in the front seat of the car, directing his officers to surround the apartment. I composed myself, reigning in the excitement temporarily in order to keep myself concentrated on the task ahead. I always liked to appear stoic and unemotional; acting like my job was no big deal was no easy feat, but I always managed to pull it off.

When we arrived at Kurosaki's apartment, Nnoi, Shinji, and I got out of the car and quietly walked up to the door. I knocked on the front door, giving Ichigo a chance to come with us peacefully. We knew he was home because one of Shinji's officer's had tracked him for us. I waited a few minutes and there was still no answer which meant one thing; Kurosaki knew we were here. I looked at Shinji and he nodded, understanding that security around the house needed to be tight. He started barking orders through his radio earpiece as I worked on the door lock.

I got the door open easily and slipped inside the house, Nnoi following closely behind me. The apartment was two stories, so as Shinji and his men searched the downstairs, Nnoitra and I went upstairs. All the lights in the apartment were off, making it hard to see around corners. We walked up the steps quietly, hoping to catch the escaped convict off guard. At the top of the steps there was a hallway with three doors leading to different rooms.

We approached the first door and opened it; it was an office which was currently unoccupied. The next door was a vacant bathroom, which left the last door. I tried the handle and it was locked. I stepped back, took a deep breath and kicked at the spot just under the door handle. The door splintered under the force and gave in, swinging open with a loud bang. With my weapon ready, I barged into the room and looked around, spotting a lean figure in the far corner. Kurosaki Ichigo was not what I was expecting.

I had seen Ichigo's mug shot, and it did not do him justice. Firstly that picture was black and white which made Ichigo look gaunt and dreary. Also, the picture was taken when the boy was 18, which made the kid look even younger and slightly scrawny. But seeing Kurosaki in person was completely different. He had bright orange hair that was sprawled lazily atop his head. Piercing chocolate brown eyes stared up at me, filled with defiance, and an angry scowl marred his features. His skin was tanned and smooth and beautiful. He stood to his full height, which looked to be around 5'11"and I could tell that the kid had a nice body. He was well-built, with taut muscle on every inch of his frame. He was toned, but not brawny. He had long, gorgeous legs that put female supermodels to shame.

I really regretted having to arrest the kid. I raised Pantera and pointed it at Ichigo, a little disappointed at how easy his capture was.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, you're comin' back 'ta Japan with me."

*Tsuki Dōro: Moon Road

*10,000 dollars in the U.S is worth 804,200 yen in Japan.

One Japanese yen is worth 0.01 U.S dollars. DAMN.

*Huntington Beach, California - 'cause the members of Avenged Sevenfold are from there and I love them.

*Yare, yare: My, my

Captain Morgan: Well, wasn't that fun! But I cried when Ginjō raped ICHI!

Kannibal Katie: Nnoi warned him 'bout dropping the soap. Ichi shoulda been more careful.

Captain Morgan: HAHA! That made me laugh! Speaking of Nnoi, he's one of my favorite characters in this so far! How 'bout you?

Kannibal Katie: Mmm, besides Ichigo and Grimm, I'd have to say Shinji and Nnoi and some of our future characters.

Captain Morgan: *Evil Grin!* I must agree with you whole heartedly! Anyway, I gotta go drink some rum

Kannibal Katie: I've got ta munch on some people soo c; bye.