Espada Elegies

From the Author: Greetings, fellow readers of the Bleach section. First of all, I don't own Bleach, it is a property of Tite Kubo. Second, don't hate me because I am planning to write an outrageous, obscene, humorless parody about the franchise. Randomness is my most powerful weapon and I have a lot of ideas for crossovers on my mind, so don't be too taken aback. I don't know how you'll interpret this piece of fiction, but the most important thing you have to keep in mind when reading it is that you are not supposed to take it seriously. Don't yell at or flame me because I put your favorite character in this or that embarassing situation. Please, take it as a joke. Everything here is meant to be taken as a joke, so don't get offended if you find something that might be insulting to your nationality, religious beliefs, etc. I'll be thankful if you review when done reading.
I also don't own Linkin Park.

Chapter One: The Garbage Man

A pale-skinned man stared down with disdainful verdant eyes at the repulsive sight in front of him.

"Trash like you…" He started and slowly raised his hand.

…

"Shouldn't exist."

…

With those words uttered out, he pulled the trash bag out of the trash can and threw it in the garbage truck with one swift motion. He sighed in boredom and climbed back in the driver's cabin and drove off several seconds later.

This was the last house in the neighborhood. After a tiresome nine-hour journey through this district of the city, his duties for the day were finally over. Ulquiorra grunted under his nose at the thought that he had to drive this mobile pile of rotting junk back to the other side of town.

Knowing his boss, he'd probably call him in his office to start another argument with him about that accident Ulquiorra has had with that old lady two days ago. But what could the former Espada do in that situation? From what he could remember of that brief and not-so-pleasant event, the old lady and her son were fighting over some dead cat that he had thrown out in the garbage can. The garbage man was just going to perform his duties as usual, when the woman suddenly threw herself at the garbage bin, embracing it tightly as if it was its firstborn child. She screamed and whined not to throw 'her little Ginny' on the dumpster. Back then, Ulquiorra had no idea what the granny was talking about and he just kindly asked her to release the garbage can. After the woman refused to do so, Ulquiorra tugged the bin out of the woman's grip. Unfortunately, the push was a little too strong, causing the woman to fall on her ill back. When her son saw what had happened, he charged towards the garbage man and planted a powerful fist in Ulquiorra's face. The woman and her son had filed a lawsuit against the former Espada, and of course, his employee wasn't one bit happy about it. If Ulquiorra still had his Arrancar powers, he'd have probably blasted a hole in that stupid asshole's chest.

He had considered the job of a garbage disposal worker a relatively simple one. Putting the health risk aside, the job bore no other hazards and offered a decent salary, which Ulquiorra found sufficient for his needs. The man had NEVER imagined that he might have to deal with something like this when he had been on this job for barely two months. He was probably the unluckiest trash collector in the world.

It was beginning to get dark and the public lighting was now turned out. Ulquiorra turned right and joined the flow of cars entering one of the busiest highways in the city. Hundreds of engines roared and smoked around him. The traffic-light was shining mockingly in red, as if to piss Ulquiorra off even more.

The former Espada's fingers tapped with his fingers on the wheel, his scowl deepened even more. The quiet, monotonous grumble of the garbage truck had faded into the background, Ulquiorra had stopped paying attention to the sound and the gentle trembling of the cabin. His foot was nervously stroking the connector.

The man leaned forward, eyeing the long line of cars, stretching five hundred feet to the juncture. He started having doubts that the drivers might have fallen asleep. Why the hell did that traffic-light take so long to change to green? What kind of a sick, sadistic imbecile had adjusted the timer on the traffic-lights in this juncture? It took 90 seconds for the damn light to change to green and that signal lasted for less than 20 seconds, and when there is a dumbass novice driver in the front who tries to set off in third gear and his engine goes out, which results in a flood of swears, curses and deafening horns coming from behind him, this period of 20 seconds is instantly reduced to the same number, but without the zero.

Ulquiorra turned the radio on. Linkin Park screamed out from the radio station.

"Caaaawling iiiin my skiiiin…"

Ulquiorra shivered in horror and instantly changed the frequency. His overt reaction of disgust towards the band would, for some unknown reason, surprise a lot of people who weren't acquainted with the man's character. His extraordinarily pale skin and melancholic look in the eyes instantly associated him, by the laws of stereotypes, with an introverted, unstable, pain-ridden persona with depressive and suicidal tendencies. People sometimes stared at his wrist, as if to check if there were scars and gashes across his veins.

In truth, Ulquiorra was far from the slobbery, crybaby emo type. This sentiment people misinterpret as melancholy in his eyes was simply boredom. Sheer, genuine Boredom with a capital B. He was a nihilist and a misanthrope who held no value for anything, completely indifferent to the events occurring around him. He had no family, no friends, no girlfriend, his job was considered a piece of shit by most people and he lived in a small apartment in the shabbiest part of town. His life was meaningless on an existential level, but that didn't mean that he wept and cried about it. He didn't feel sorry for himself. Ulquiorra had discovered this truth about life a long, long time ago and had accepted it without any anguish. He came in existence without being asked if he wanted to, he died without anyone asking him about it, then he was reborn as a Hollow without being asked for his permission. The only relief he got was when he could choose how to die: by Kurosaki Ichigo's hand. However, another thing he didn't desire was to be reborn, and this time as a human! A freakin human!! Had he sinned that much to be punished a fate such as this one? What were the chances of being reborn as one of the most pathetic species in all of existence?

He frowned and pressed the accelerator. The truck moved forward by several feet, then he stomped on the breaks, because the traffic-lights were shining red again.

When he woke up in this puny world, trapped in a puny body made of flesh, blood and bones, he looked around. He was butt-naked in a park and there were couples, mothers with their little kids, old people, all staring at him, dumbfounded and shocked. Without even bothering to blush under their astounded gazes, he got up on his feet and made a run for it towards the bushes. Ulquiorra needed a few minutes to find himself some clothes (he stole them from a drunk homeless guy on the street), then he sat down on a bench and carefully revolved in his mind on the situation. He was alone in the human world, his lord and comrades were either out of reach for him or destroyed, his Arrancar powers had disappeared, he had no money and no home to go to. The only thing he had were the memories of his former might, as if just to vex him with the fact how powerless and pathetic he was right now.

It has been four months since he ended up in this world. The USA, to be more accurate. The country of 'unlimited possibilities'. Unfortunately, the country obviously didn't offer much for people, who weren't registered as existent individuals, didn't have a passport, name, background, family, education and a home to go to. He didn't know how he managed to find himself an apartment; maybe he killed someone to get it.

Ulquiorra blinked. He remembered now: there was this obese middle-aged man who was obsessed with anime. It took ages to wash the blood off the walls, the former Espada didn't expect that there'd be that much blood in that barrel of a body. He threw away the shirts, because his dignity forbid him from wearing shirts with the signs 'Strike Withes' and 'Proud to be a weeaboo'.

Several horns snapped Ulquiorra out of his pensiveness. He stepped on it and finally crossed the juncture. He changed from second to third gear and moved down the avenue with the flow of cars in front of him.

Ulquiorra pushed the green cap up his forehead, as not to block his sight. The man didn't expect how easily human bodies can run out of energy. Exhaustion was no longer a myth to him, it was a daily fact. He found out very soon that if he didn't eat regularly, his stomach would throw a tantrum and demand to be filled up, which was a very irksome event that distracted Ulquiorra from performing his duties. The physiological needs of this shell he inhabited were far more in quantity and occurred far more often than they did when he was an Arrancar. In his past life, he didn't remember going to the bathroom even once. His daily grind was occupied with serving Aizen and performing multiple tasks through Hueco Mundo. He had never even thought that he might actually be interrupted by something as mundane and trivial as hunger.

Right now, his tongue yearned for fruit. A big, tasty, sour apple. Unlike the other people in this country, he kept his distance from fast-food restaurants like one would avoid staying in the same room with a plague victim. It was unfortunate that fresh fruits were so hard to find in this town; most supermarkets sold only stale garbage.

A large, ripe, green apple, freshly picked from an apple tree in a small garden. With peelings that shone under the sunrays like in a still life picture. There was a picture of a bowl, filled with fruit in his apartment. The apple in that picture was red and it topped the small mountain of natural tastiness, as if to signify the superiority of the apple above all other fruit. The apple was, after all, a fruit with religious and mythological semantics. The Forbidden fruit, which Eve so rashly took a bite of, was an apple. The fruit, which caused the dispute between the ancient Greek goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite and eventually resulted in the Trojan war, was an apple. The apple was also rumored to be the favorite fruit of the Shinigami, a myth which Ulquiorra disregarded as false, seeing as he had fought real Shinigami in the past and they had not demonstrated in any way predilections for the mentioned fruit. Honestly, where did humans get their ideas from?...

Ulquiorra's foot smashed the break.

He had nearly run over a person.

Ulquiorra hadn't been human for long enough to become acquainted with sensations such as fear or concern for others. His face was as stiff as always. Only a small sparkle of surprise flickered in his eyes. He switched the breakdown lights on, turned the engine off and got off the truck.

Horns and yells were coming from behind the truck. Pedestrians were gathering around the scene, staring at the person that had somehow appeared in front of the garbage truck. The person in question was a small girl with blonde chin-length hair. She must have been twelve or thirteen years old. From what Ulquiorra could make out, she was dressed in tattered black and white clothes that barely covered her frail figure. She was curled on the ground, trembling in fright.

He crouched down and leaned closer to inspect her face. The girl raised her head to look at him.

Ulquiorra nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise.

He picked the girl up and carried to his truck. People were yelling at him, demanding an explanation, but the trash collector completely ignored them. He rested the girl on the seat next to him and closed the doors.
"Screw the boss." Ulquiorra muttered to himself and started the engine. He slammed his hand on the claxon to scatter away the people in front of him, then he drove off.

Ulquiorra's apartment was in a run-down district to the northwest of town. That was the place where pocket-picking and vandalism were a daily basis. For some reason, the police here couldn't do anything about it, so the few people who lived here didn't tend to leave their apartments after dark. Locking the doors to your home was a must, but in most cases even that didn't work to prevent a determined robber.

The garbage man stopped the truck in front of the apartment building. He picked the girl up and placed her on his shoulder with her head dangling down his back. He entered the building and walked all the way up to the fifth floor, seeing as the elevator didn't work (nothing new here). He took out his keys, unlocked the door and entered in the small two-roomed apartment.

Ulquiorra rested the girl on his bed and covered her with a blanket. He pulled a chair and took a sit, then he rested his head on his hands and fixed his eyes on the girls face.

"Lilinette, what are you doing here?" He grumbled under his nose pensively.

From the Author: And that's the end of the first chapter. Nothing funny so far, I've been sticking to a more serious, realistic and dramatic mood. Things will brighten up later, I promise.