Crickets
He enjoyed killing, ending another's life, tearing through those he loathed and ripping apart their very soul, leaving nothing but shreds to go along with a broken body. He loved seeing that rich, crimson, unmistakable color slathered upon the floor and coating his fingers, his palms, dripping down his wrists to splash upon the solid ground beneath his feet. That beautiful red color that everyone had inside them, just waiting to be spilled... the red color contrasted so much with his cerulean blue strands of hair and shimmering eyes of the same blue hue. Most of all, he absolutely loved seeing the expression of fear, despair, and hate that lingered upon the dying, former number six's pale face. He could see it in the smaller man's eyes, how the black haired enemy despised him, loathed him, and yet there was absolutely nothing that he could do to soothe his ever growing anger towards his blue haired killer. Upon the blue haired man's face was a reflection of his own emotions towards the dying guy, and a single word that pretty much described the black haired man lingered on his tongue. Bastard. He deserved this, every bit of it. The pain, the fear, the thought of knowing that he was about to die. He especially deserved what was coming next... The blue haired man rose one hand, bloody palm up. A glowing and rapidly growing orb of blue light formed in the raised hand. Steal my position, the blue eyed man thought as a menacing and rather insane looking grin spread across his face, and I'll steal your life. This black haired guy had thought he could steal his place, his number? Hell no. That was not going to happen. The tattooed six on the blue haired man's back near the Hollow hole through his muscular abdomen was a sign only he could bear. He was the Sexta Espada. The one thing he absolutely could not allow was for anyone to look down on him as if he were weaker, as if he were insane, or perhaps just too violent. But quite honestly, he didn't give one shit about what others thought of his personality, just as long as they didn't look down on him, he was fine. Everyone should acknowledge his power, his force, his abilities... For he was the strongest of the Espada. He was Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, and no one could stop him. With that final thought, he placed his hand against the black haired, dying man's forehead and released a bright, intense Cero that completely incinerated the smaller man, leaving nothing but the burnt, lower half of his body. A loud, victorious cackle echoed as Grimmjow threw his head back, laughing, a single drop of blood falling from his claw like hands, contacting with the ground, landing near what remained of the former number six.
(Thanks for reading. :D This would be the first uploaded work we have uploaded... Obviously we are Bleach fans (we being my friend and I, the creators of this account and stories). Although I (the one who stretched the original story into this) am not much a Grimmjow fan but rather an Ulquiorra fan. ;) Either way, this first doc was fun to type up and edit and so forth. I hope all the readers liked it, too. 3) Hey, it's the other writer(the Grimmjow freak). Just wanted to let people know we would love to hear what you think. Thanks! =]