Masked Avengers of Gotham Mundo
Disclaimer: Bleach and Batman are not mine, of course
Warnings: total AU & AR; no romance & no citrus / friendship only; abusive language; multiple antagonistic characters' death
Thank you for the following grammarian, consultant, beta reader and critic: BloodyCrystal, sandrilenefatoren2, mysticlegend11, Haleybird, Orange Headphones
CHAPTER I
The New Butler
Skyscrapers raced against one another towards the murky sky. Industrial smoke spouted from the tall black chimneys, filling the stale air with their asphyxiating odor. The trashcans on the somber alleyways were crowded with scavenging rats, unaware of the lurking cats that were ready to strike at the precise moment. Lights adorned buildings and streets alike to welcome night time. Yet, these lights could do very little against the thick fog that loomed over Gotham Mundo that day.
A sleek, black limousine slid like molten ebony down the dimly lit streets, heading home after an evening out. Inside, the driver with gray, wispy hair turned to address the passenger seated behind him.
"You are really too kind, Master Ulquiorra. After all, no reward comes to those who hide behind a mask." He winked at the twenty-two-year-old passenger in question, who sat with his arms crossed. The casual, expensive suit that covered up to half of his neck accentuated his slender frame, and dark hair hung loosely around brilliant green eyes. Before Ulquiorra could answer, a taxi came hurling out of an adjoining street without warning and rammed full-speed into the left side of the luxury sedan. A loud scream of colliding metal pierced the air.
Ulquiorra's eyes widened as the momentum threw him against his seat belt. He could not see anything through the thick smoke and exhaust clouding the inside of the now motionless car, so he struggled with the door handle. It was jammed, but it gave way beneath his weight and he climbed out of the limousine. He turned and tried to open the driver's door of his own car, where the unconscious driver sat slumped over the deflated airbag. The door was jammed, and Ulquiorra could not open it as easily as he had opened his own due to the twisted, overheated metal.
"Alfred!" He called at the window.
Nevertheless, Gotham's most affluent bachelor was not the only one with only minor injuries. After a thirty-second interval, the taxi driver stumbled out of the driver's seat of the beaten-up taxi that had collided with them: a blue-haired youth, hardly affected by mundane injuries, coughing hoarsely and waving a hand in front of his face in attempt to clear the smoke. While talking to the 911 operator, all the while he made expressive hand gestures and glared at everyone who looked towards him in curiosity. After all, his practically uninjured state seemed like a near miracle when compared to the damage that his car had taken.
The moment these youths' eyes met, they realized that they shared one common trait: they had died once.
***
While quietly stepping out of Alfred's hospital room, Ulquiorra saw the taxi driver yelling at his employer. "You can't sack me! The geezer didn't die in that accident! Heck, rich boy n' me walked away wi' nothin' but a bruise 'r two!"
"I don't give a damn! How many years do you think it will take your salary to cover today's car repair, let alone all of the other damages, Jaegerjaquez?!"
The so-called Jaegerjaquez was about to shout back, but his employer pointedly turned his back to the youth and approached Ulquiorra.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. Such an incompetent driver will surely not be a part of our company in the future. Why, he's still green, sir, not even fit to drive golf cart; in fact, I've fired him just now…" The business owner prattled on, roundly bashing his twenty-three-year-old ex-employer's reputation and intelligence, and Ulquiorra noticed that the driver in question had taken the opportunity to slip away from the scene behind his boss's back. Ulquiorra excused himself, politely but firmly, and followed the other with swift strides.
"Wait!" Ulquiorra called as the ex-taxi driver pressed the down arrow, which now glowed a sickly yellow. The ex-taxi driver ignored him and stepped into the elevator.
The ex-taxi driver ignored him and stepped into the elevator.
Ulquiorra strode forward and put a hand on the sliding door, holding it open.
"What d'you want now?" The newly unemployed man glared. "Can't sue me. Ain't got no money."
"I need a temporary replacement for my chauffeur and butler. Alfred will be hospitalized for an indefinite amount of time, and−" Ulquiorra began.
The frustrated youth cut him off. "Many will beg t' work for a moneyed man like you."
"I need one now, and I see an unemployed candidate right here." Ulquiorra let go of the door as he stepped inside the lift and let it slide shut, cutting the two of them off from the hospital wing.
"Why'd you want me?! I wrecked your limo!" The uncouth youth gave a slightly crazed laugh. "You want me t' be your driver? Why don't'cha try n' make me?" He challenged, a condescending snarl touching his lips. He then rolled up his shirtsleeves in a threatening manner, revealing well-trained biceps.
"As you wish." Before Jaegerjaquez could blink, Ulquiorra leaped behind him and slammed his face none-too-softly into the elevator's control panel. Jaegerjaquez felt something give way under his nose, and realized that he had accidentally pushed the 'ground floor' button.
The ex-taxi driver began to sweat, and shifted into a more comfortable position. His opponent had a smaller frame, but his speed was incredible. Interesting, he smirked. They had begun on the seventh floor, and now only had about seven seconds until they reached the hospital lobby below.
Six seconds. With a grunt, Jaegerjaquez ripped himself from Ulquiorra's strong grip and launched his fist. The last time he had done this, a pro-wrestler who had gotten in his way was sent to the hospital in an ambulance, and he did not intend to reduce his power merely because his opponent was smaller.
Five seconds. Ulquiorra caught his attacker's large fist in one hand. No way! Jaegerjaquez' eyes widened. He's stronger than he looks.
Four. Ulquiorra went on the offensive, ramming his opponent in the stomach and bringing the latter to his knees.
Three. Before Jaegerjaquez' knees had fully touched the ground, the richer man grabbed his wrists and yanked them behind his back.
Two…
When the door finally slid open on the ground floor with a quiet "ping", the two men walked out silently and discreetly. The one in front walked with utmost tranquility, and several in the lobby gave him respectful acknowledging nods. The one walking behind him wore a disgruntled expression, though could no longer be called jobless.
"You expect me to drive you home in dis beat-up matchbox?" The new chauffeur asked in disbelief once they reached the hospital's parking area.
"The exterior was ruined, but most of the mechanics on the interior are still fully operable."
Sure enough, after a couple of minutes of emergency mending by Ulquiorra, the car purred to life again, although it still looked like it had been through the demolition derby. That the air conditioner was toast and one of the wipers was ripped off was the very least of their concerns. The new chauffeur could only stare blankly.
Since this pampered prince could even mend a car… "You can drive, can't you?" He asked in confusion, only seconds after Ulquiorra told him the address.
His employer answered while climbing into the back seat. "I can."
"Then wha'd'you need me for?"
Ulquorra ignored this question and gave his new chauffeur the car key. "Get in. What's your name?"
Ripping out the dirty air bag, which was taking up too much space, he started the battered engine and answered through gritted teeth, "Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."
"There will be other tasks that you need to do besides driving, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."
"Don't'cha call me by m' full name; it creeps me out!"
At last, after long minutes of driving in silence, they pulled through the iron-wrought gates of Ulquorra's lonely estate, high on a hill overlooking Gotham City. It was as vast as a small amusement park, surrounded by a beautiful, well-tended garden and lawns. Even the grass was like that of a golf course, and the bushes were trimmed into sculptural shapes. The house itself, however, was an architectural masterpiece. The Georgian-style porch with antique, white pillars stood out in good taste against the beautiful slated roof and huge, expensive doors and windows. An immense crystal chandelier hung above the main hall, and a row of matching smaller candelabras bedecked the sides of the long corridors.
Stepping onto the immaculate marble floor, his new employer behind him, Grimmjow muttered, "Holy shit! You ain't expectin' me t' clean all this, are you?"
"Clean and preserve," answered his new master mildly, as though it would not be a daunting task.
"No kiddin', man! There's no way one guy can do 'em all!" Grimmjow seemed to be ready for another confrontation.
"Alfred did them all by himself… and you put him in the hospital." Ulquiorra spoke with finality. "
"I dunno how to cook." This time Grimmjow's voice sounded nearly pleading.
"Order the food from a restaurant, then. There is a copy of the Yellow Pages next to each telephone in this house. Just sign the tab and the bill will go to my credit card. Your food bills as well," he added, almost as an afterthought.
"Ev'ry meal?" Jaegerjaquez grinned, beginning to see the perks of the job. "Hey, I know you're so damn rich, but wouldn't it be better if you hire a chef instead?"
"If ordering food by phone bothers you that much, you can use an online service."
That was not the point, but how could he make someone like Ulquiorra Schiffer understand, showered with money as he was? Grimmjow could only utter a soft "Dammit!"
Ulquiorra stepped further into the entry hall, dress shoes making surprisingly little noise on the polished floor. "I'll show you to your room."
"My room?!" Grimmjow nearly yelped. "I ain't sleepin' here! No way in hell!"
"Then be here by six A.M. on a daily basis."
"Six?! No friggin' way! It took an hour t' get here from da hospital, n' my house's even further!"
"Too early to leave your wife's bed?" Normally one would smirk while saying such a taunting, teasing question, but in Ulquiorra's case, his facial expression was as unperturbed as ever.
He couldn't be serious, could he? Grimmjow tossed the issue aside. "Who says I'm married? How old d'you think I am? I've got five li'l brothers!" He mentally smacked himself for talking about himself so much in front of an almost complete stranger, employer or not.
"What are their names?"
"Lessee, there's Shawlong, Edrad, Ylfordt, Nakim 'n' Di Roy."
"Tomorrow, Friday, invite them over for dinner, and then return home with them for the remainder of the weekend... but you are to spend your weekdays here. You will need to be here by seven A.M. sharp on Monday."
"Wha'ever." There wasn't the slightest shred of reluctance left in Grimmjow's voice, only a bit of resignation, and this surprised him even more than it surprised his new boss, for Ulquiorra's attention was now diverted elsewhere. From the window behind his employee, Gotham's multibillionaire could see an easily recognizable bat-shaped spotlight shining onto the clouds above.
"The cleaning equipment is in the fourth room on your left… and the kitchen is the next door over." With that, Ulquiorra turned on his heel and left to climb the tall spiraling stairs leading up further into the house, quickly disappearing from sight.
***
Monday had come and gone, and Thursday night found Grimmjow sitting dutifully, yet looking out-of-place, in a bed of flowers in the middle of a raging thunderstorm. He glanced up at the sound of a loud crash from the balcony outside of the master bedroom, on the third floor. The night itself was heavy with a turbulent rainstorm, but he was sure the noise came from a heavy door falling off of its hinges instead of a thunderclap.
With the number of high-tech security devices securing the mansion, Grimmjow doubted that a thief could break into the Schiffer mansion, but he had an obligation to check nevertheless. Throwing down his soaked and muddy copy of 'Gardening for Dummies', he went in search of the disruption.
In the west wing of the manor, right next to the master bedroom, was a closet for medicinal storage. There, Ulquiorra was standing shakily on a dangerously teetering chair, trying to get hold of a particular disinfectant on a higher shelf. He was soaking wet, and little rivulets of blood were blending in with the rainwater pooling at his feet and soaking his torn and bloody clothing. Various bottles, syringes and boxes of medicine lay in disarray, both on the shelves and on the floor.
"You're bleedin'!" Grimmjow remarked in surprise.
Ulquiorra dropped off the chair, shoved the closet door closed and began to limp back to his bedroom. With face and voice were as calm and stoic as ever, undoubtedly masking physical pain, he replied, "I'm fine."
However, his new chauffeur approached him instead, stabbing a finger towards his chest with a challenging gleam in his eyes. "I ain't blind enough t' not see da blood squirtin' from your chest 'n' leg!"
"I said I was fine!" Ulquiorra pushed Grimmjow's pointing finger aside and tried to walk past the young butler. However, Grimmjow would not accept that. He gripped the shoulder of Ulquiorra's shirt hard enough to rip off the uppermost button and reveal a gaping, bloodless, clean-cut hole straight through the center of Ulquiorra's collarbone. His boss cast a deadly glare in Grimmjow's direction as he hastily covered himself, holding the collar closed with his good hand.
Ulquiorra was prepared for the worst, yet neither mockery nor blackmail concerning his hole's morbidity came out of his butler's mouth. Instead, a foreign silence calmed the employee's face. Never before had Ulquiorra seen Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez so pensive.
"I'm used to seein' self-regen'ratin' bodies, y' know," Grimmjow said, a little apprehensively, as though he wasn't sure if his boss could trust him with the information.
Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed at these words.
"That's wha' m' body is made of 'n' so're m' brothers'."
Ulquiorra decided to throw caution to the wind and pulled off his shirt the rest of the way, ignoring the pain from his wounded torso. Grimmjow's blue eyes fixed upon his employer's black, elegant tattoo of the number 'four', which was imprinted on the left side of his chest, an inch or so above his heart. Ulquiorra's most severe wound, located immediately below the tattoo didn't even faze Grimmjow.
"Dat tattoo…" Grimmjow's voice trailed off.
"My family's murderer was the one who gave me this tattoo," Ulquiorra answered the unfinished question.
"Look!" Grimmjow unbuttoned his own shirt to show his boss. There was a hollow hole on his lower back, through his abdomen, and a number 'six' tattoo near the right side of this hole. "D'you think there're others who've got numbered tattoos like ours? This tattoo was also left by th' bastard who finished off m'real fam'ly. My brothers are really kids wi' no blood relat'ns. Their fam'lies were all killed and they got holes in their bodies, but wi' out da numbered tattoo."
"You're gathering orphans to help search for your family's murderer?"
For the usually composed Ulquiorra Schiffer, such a remark was a bit too scornful and irked Grimmjow. "Wha' else c'ud I do?' Grimmjow glanced back down at Ulquiorra's nasty-looking gashes, along with the numerous little cuts and bruises. "Hang on, these wounds o' yours… why ain't they closin' by 'emselves? Why did your body stop regen'ratin'?"
"I don't know. I had no problem with self-regeneration before tonight."
There was only one possible cause for such a happening, as far as Grimmjow knew. However, he would prefer his assumption to be incorrect. The young butler leaned over and put his face closer to examine his master's gaping, bloody wounds, still dripping with blood. His nostrils flared at the bitter, coppery scent, by now long familiar.
"Were you hit by…" Grimmjow paused; his hesitation was marked by a stiffening facial expression. "… a weapon? Another Arrancar's weapon?"
Arrancar were endowed with high self-regenerating ability. The only thing which precluded such ability from happening was immense reiatsu, which was normally possessed not by humans but by other Arrancar. The moment his master peered defiantly at him, however, the butler understood that he had crossed an invisible line.
Masking his tone and facial expression with poorly feigned ignorance, the blue-haired Arrancar made his reply. "Well, wha'ever that was, you'd better suck up as much reiatsu as poss'ble. Human drugs got next to no 'fect on us."
"What is…," Ulquiorra pronounced the strange word carefully, "…'ray-atsu'?"
Grimmjow's eyes widened and his jaw nearly dropped ajar at the question. "You're kiddin'! There's no way for an Arrancar like you to not know what reiatsu is!"
"What's an 'Arrancar'?"
This time Grimmjow's jaw did drop. After a few seconds had passed, he managed to answer, "When someone dies n' his or her soul don't move on, that soul becomes a Hollow. Hollows eat spirit-energy... s'called 'reiatsu'… But a Hollow c'n also eat another Hollow 'n' evolve into an 'Arrancar'. Honestly, how'd you even get to be an Arrancar wi'out knowin' dis much?"
Uquiorra said nothing, memories of the past washing over him with painful clarity.
***
That night, the eight-year-old Ulquiorra Schiffer had just come out of the theater with his parents. While they walked down an alleyway to where their car was parked, a man came out of nowhere, running his sword through the three of them. The last thing Ulquiorra remembered, before the grim reaper took them all away, was his mother's pearl necklace scattering on the ground, intermingling in disarray with the rose petals falling from his father's hand.
Shortly after death, his soul got separated from his body and wandered in search of his parents, but to no avail. He tried visiting all his relatives and friends, but none of them could see him anymore. His existence had become intangible. An incorporeal being.
A ghost.
On the other hand, different souls tried to devour him from place to place, one night after another. Yet, none of these was as scary as one particular gargantuan soul. Save for a white mask covering where the face should be, this soul was as black as the night itself. Its robust figure towered above even the tallest of athletes Ulquiorra had ever seen in life, and was stronger and more ferocious than any other souls he had encountered in his afterlife.
Accompanied by the hoot of an owl from a tree yonder, the child burst through the night, running from the predator who hunted him passing several dark and narrow alleyways. Ulquiorra did not know whether things such as second death existed, but death–his first death−did not take away the feeling of fear from him. He passed dampened streets with graffiti sprayed walls, trampling through some puddles on his way. No water splashed under his violent steps; he had no somatic substance to perturb the concrete world.
The chase continued until they arrived at a cave full of bats. The humongous soul latched onto his puny frame, and he could feel his existence being devoured, his resolute will to survive drove him into a trance. There were bats in his head, at least a thousand of them! The next thing he knew, he was sucking the souls of all the bats in that cave.
Replenished by the new energy within him, he transformed… transformed into a lean, pale, eerie figure, a horned skull atop his head and a pair of chiropteran wings on his back, borrowed from the bats he'd pulled the power from. A spear appeared in his hands−now black, claw-like things−and with this spear, he vanquished his opponent.
Up to this point, he had thought himself alone but for his enemy.
"You've managed to defeat a Gillian Menos−not bad at all, considering the short period of your Hollow transformation, boy," a chilling voice came from one corner of the cave. It belonged to man with brown hair slicked back except for a single piece which fell before his face, who was dressed in immaculately white attire.
Ulquiorra's instincts told him to attack, so he did. However, none of his newfound powers worked against this stranger. Actually, his opponent toyed with him without breaking a sweat, smiling slightly as claws and spear and blinding speed were used to their utmost limits… and still were utterly useless.
The man spoke again, "Don't you think he has the potential to become my Espada, Gin?"
"He certainly does, Aizen-sama," another man replied, stepping out of the shadows at the cave's back. He was silver-haired, smiling like a fox with a baby rabbit between its paws, and with eyes squinted shut with a kind of dangerous mirth. And furthermore, the shape of his short sword… this was unmistakably the very one who killed the Schiffers!
Ulquiorra gripped the lance in his hand and changed his target at once. But before he reached him, something hit him from behind and he lost consciousness.
When he came to, the murderer and his companion were gone. His lance had transformed into a sword, one with a green hilt to match his eyes, and eye-like guard. He named the sword 'Murciélago' or 'Bat', after the source of his transformation. His body had taken the form he was in now−physical, pale of skin, dark of hair, and green of eye, but with no wings attached.
However, the left side of his chest bore a number four tattoo…
***
"Hey, you okay? You've lost a lotta blood," Grimmjow looked concernedly at Ulquiorra, who swayed unsteadily on his feet, lost in thought. "… 'n' you ain't answered m' question."
"Mind your own business." Ulquiorra replied icily, coming out of his aching reverie. He had begun hunting for his parents' murderer after that night, his demonic masked form causing those who glimpsed his presence to dub him 'Batman'.
Wha' an asshole! Grimmjow gritted his teeth. Had it been not for the bloody wounds on Ulquiorra's body, he would have tried to land a frustrated punch or two. Instead, he took charge of the situation. "Go change your clothes. We're leavin' in five minutes."
Ulquiorra only stared at him blankly.
"Da easiest place to get a reiatsu supply is at a cemetery. C'mon! I'm your chauffeur, ain't I?"
A/N: In case it isn't clear enough, Ulquiorra's transformation here looks exactly like in the canon manga (no man-made costume involved), with a mask as an addition. All the other transformations in later chapters behave likewise.