Destined to reside forever outside the flow of time... We have existed for millennia, since the beginning, each of us living countless secret lives. All of us forever struggling to understand our own destiny. Now, a time of great crisis is approaching, the dawn of an age of peace or chaos. And so now, the fate of all humanity will be determined by the final outcome of a centuries old struggle, between the forces of light and dark. We are...
"THE IMMORTALS"
Written by Bojack727
Based on a story by Gregory Widen
With Characters by Tite Kubo
Part 01
Las Angeles, 1986...
Ulquiorra reclined in the red cushioned folding chair of the majestic theatre, silently taking in the production of Shakespeare's "Macbeth" on the stage before him. At the moment, something about the sight of the two actors, as they crossed swords, struck a cord in him.
He suddenly felt overcome by an uncomfortable sense of remembrance. Feeling out of place in the ornate hall, he silently rose to his feet, carefully adjusting his trenchcoat before making his way down the row of (occupied) seats. He reached the carpeted floors of the central isle, towards the glowing outline that was the door at the back of the theatre. He made his way to the door, sliding it open just enough to slip out, while not disturbing his fellow patrons.
He ran his slender fingers through his thick black hair as he stepped into the lobby. He was dressed in a light tan-colored trenchcoat- pulled shut in the front and held in place by a loose knot in the coat's belt. Underneath, he was decked out in a pair of dark blue slacks and a matching suit jacket, with a white button-up shirt (no tie) and a pair of plain white tennis shoes.
Almost on instinct, his brilliant green eyes quickly located the nearby bar. He exhaled and made his way to one of the swivel-stools, taking a seat and placing an order with the bartender. As he waited for his drink, his mind began to wonder... Only half-aware as the drink was set down in front of him, he paid the man and lifted the glass up to his pale lips.
In spite of the strong aroma of the aged whiskey and coke before him, his mind was somewhere else...
. . . ...o.o.o... . . .
Spain, 1556...
The mild chill in the air was faintly uncomfortable to him as he walked across the grassy hilltop that overlooked the valley below. Ulquiorra was dressed in a suit of light plate armor, with a layer of leather and chain-mail underneath. He wore a red and white tunic that covered his breastplate, with his family's coat-of-arms embroidered (in red and gold) on the surface. The crest depicted the image of a gilded shield with a bat-like creature set upon it.
He arrived at the side of his smokey-gray horse, Argento, inserted an armored boot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up onto the saddle. His squire, a young man, handed him his sheathed sword (fixed to a leather belt), which he fastened around his waist. As the man helped him to slide his arm into the straps on his shield, Ulquiorra turned to face his friend and commander- Juan Castillo.
Castillo, a Don with a smart-looking mustache and pointed goatee, was decked out in a similar suit of armor to the one that Ulquiorra wore. The Commander wore a light blue tunic over his breastplate, with his family's own coat-of-arms, embroidered upon it in black and gold. It was a shield, and the image of a griffon with its wings spread out across the crest. His kettle helm, adorned with the blue and black feathered plume befitting his rank, was nestled in his folded sword-arm.
He turned to Ulquiorra, grinning to himself at the image of his bat on family crest, as the young squire handed his helmet to him. "Considering your family's illustrious history, I find it amusing that your crest should feature a bat upon it." He remarked with a smile. "It's not exactly what one would expect to see worn a noble and a member of the Court."
Ulquiorra smirked at the remark. "As I surely must have explained to you many a time, the 'bat' as you call it, is Murceliago." The dark-haired officer began. "It represents stealth and speed- the ability to strike at the enemy before they see your blade."
"Yes, I see." Juan Castillo replied with a small nod. "Well, you shall need all the luck and skills you can get for the battle to come." The Commander continued, far more serious now. "This rabble are a threat to the Monarchy- our newly crowned King need's harmony, not discord."
"Agreed." Ulquiorra replied. "The Empire must not be seen to be in disarray... We must end this conflict once and for all, before it has the chance to fester and spread."
"Be mindful my friend." Castillo remarked. "I've heard rumors about the rebels... Foreign mercenaries are amongst them- dangerous men with no loyalty to any lord or land."
Ulquiorra turned to look to the enemy forces and encampment, situated on the hilltop on the opposite end of the low valley between them...
. . . ...o.o.o... . . .
Trumpets blared and the call to battle was sounded- sending the royalist forces charging the enemy, the two forces crashing against one another in the valley below. Blood soon began to stain the battleground as sound of cries and the noise of metal striking metal filled the entire area. Ulquiorra was busy fighting against the rebel infantry, when he suddenly spotted a lone mounted figure in the distance...
Ulquiorra could tell at once that he was a knight- he rode a black horse and wielded a massive longsword, striking down everyone in his way. The warrior was dressed in a pallid grayish-yellow suit of armor (over a layer of dark leather under-armor). His helm looked like an enlarged human skull, complete with darkened eye and nasal socket, and rows of elongated fang-like teeth along the front of the helmet, above his eyes. The heavy visor that obscured his face resembled a monstrous jaw. A mane of black feathers, sprouting up like a mohawk, lined the top of the helmet and hung down the back. A dark blue-gray cloak flapped behind him as he moved. It was fixed to his shoulders, and the collar was thickly lined with black feathers.
A heavy breastplate covered his entire upper body. The top half was formed in the image of a muscled human chest. While the lower half had abdominal muscles carved down the center of the front, and rows of curved bones on either side that looked like an exposed ribcage. The heavy shoulder pauldrons were fashioned to look like skulls (similar to the visage of his helmet). His arms were covered in sleeves of plate armor, complete with jointed elbow guards and armored gloves- though his right (sword) arm sported a heavier arm and elbow guard. His legs were fully armored- complete with heavy knee guards and armored boots.
The knight turned to look at him for a moment, then began heading right for him- laughing in a deep voice as he set about carving a bloody swath through the ranks as he closed in on him. Ulquiorra shrugged off his shield to free up the arm for the reigns, then led his horse in a charge against the knight. The two warriors soon met, their blades clashing for an instant. In spite of all his strength, the shear force of the strike was enough to knock Ulquiorra from his horse. Ulquiorra rolled across the damp ground for a few secants, loosing his helmet in the commotion, before getting back up onto his feet.
He turned to look at the knight, watching as the black horse reared up on its back legs with a cry, the warrior's massive blood-stained sword held aloft as lightning struck down in the distance, sounding off like some terrifying drum as the sky darkned. The knight regained control of his horse as rain began to trickle down from the sky. He eventually slowed it to a halt, wordlessly dismounting less than twenty feet from Ulquiorra, and regarded him. Ulquiorra (who was 5'10") realized that the other warrior was about a head taller than him. He lifted up his visor for a moment, likely to get a better look at him, before wordlessly beckoning Ulquiorra to him.
The dark-haired knight obliged him and charged the standing warrior. With both hands, he swung his long sword at his nameless foe, but the grim warrior effortlessly knocked his sword well off to the side with a quick swipe of his own massive sword. This opening gave him the window he needed, allowing the knight to pull back his sword... Then thrust the blade right through Ulquiorra's chest!
He gasped in pain and shock, his entire body slack, and let slip his blade. The knight put a booted foot against him and withdrew the blood-stained blade from his torso, leaving Ulquiorra to fall to his knees- still in a state of shock from the brutal wound inflicted upon him. Without saying a word, the warrior stepped behind him and readied his large weapon, preparing for the kill..
However, before he could deliver the finishing blow to the back of his neck, the knight paused and looked up to see just as another man- mounted on a horse, charging towards him with a long spear in hand. Castillo let out a yell as he hurled the projectile at the knight, embedding it deep in his chest. He watched as the dark knight staggered back from the blow, then fell motionless to the ground.
The Spaniard stopped his charge and rapidly dismounted, then rushed to his fallen friend's side...
. . . ...o.o.o... . . .
Las Angeles, 1986...
Ulquiorra gulped down the potent dark brown contents of drink and quickly paid the bartender before leaving the lobby. He remained silent the whole time as he departed.
The dark-haired man navigated way through a short series of halls and down staircases, until he arrived at the bottom level of the theatre's parking garage. The whole place was gritty and gray, with low ceilings that featured endless lengths of piping, interspersed with dusty florescent lights. He suddenly came to a halt, his sneaker-clad foot crunching down into the center a discarded Coke can- instantly caving in the red and white aluminum.
Then, he heard another voice-"Schiffer!"
The sound of his name quickly drew his attention to one of the countless identical dark gray concrete pillars lining the rows of parked cars. Ulquiorra remained silent, watching as another man stepped out from behind one of the pillars, about thirty feet from him, and looked directly at him.
"Stark..." Ulquiorra replied in a hushed tone as he looked the man over. The man was dressed in an expensive looking dark blueish-gray three-piece suit (along with a pair of black slacks and a dark silk tie around his neck). His long wavy brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail in the back, while his eyes were obscured behind a pair of trendy dark glasses. He wore dark black leather gloves, and a long tan-colored double-breasted trenchcoat hung off of his left hand.
Remaining silent, Ulquiorra watched as the man slowly approached him. Once he'd narrowed the distance between them by half, he held up his right hand- concealed within the "basket" style hand guard of an extremely ornate (and likely expensive) Rapier. From the look of it, Ulquiorra guessed it was of Italian design and hundreds of years old. Both the handle and the guard were made of fine silver and gold, with a large pummel stone that was capped with a ruby.
Stark took a few steps forward, still clutching his long coat in his free hand. Ulquiorra remaining silent the whole time, but slid his left foot back slightly to get better balance. The man's full name was Conrad Stark, and they'd crossed a few times over the last century. When they'd first met, out in the wilds of the western frontier, he was better known as Coyote Stark.
"We don't have to do this, Stark." Ulquiorra began in a low tone. "It's not too late, just walk away..." He offered the other man, even as his muscles tensed in anticipation. "Neither one of us has to die- we can both just walk away from this with our lives." He offered him calmly.
Stark grinned in response to this. "Hah! Unlike you... I have ambition!" He exclaimed, resuming his advance towards him. "Even a weakling you must feel it- like some massive magnetic force drawing us to this city... For some purpose." He reasoned. "So, Ulquiorra... Are you going to fight, or am I just going to cut you down where you stand?"
Ulquiorra sighed and then reached into his trenchcoat, quickly withdrawing a sword of his own from the depths of his coat. It was a Katana: the 30" blade was slightly curved, with a razor sharp edge running along the front and a pointed tip. The metal somehow glistened like silver, even in the dim light of the parking structure. It had a circular gold hilt, with a long ivory handle- with imagery of bat-winged creatures carved into the white surface.
He gripped the sword handle with both hands and took up a fighting stance. He narrowed his eyes and looked directly at the other man. "Just one question, Coyote... Did you really kill Lillynette?"
"Don't call me that!" Stark replied, sounding more angry than he had meant to, before striking at Ulquiorra in a stabbing motion. But the dark-haired swordsman evaded thrust of his sword and struck against the back of his rapier. Stark quickly regained his footing and turned to face Ulquiorra once more. "Don't speak to me of such things... Especially when you're going to be dead soon!"
The two men began trading blows- their swords clashing again again as they moved down along the rows between the parked cars. Stark drove him back up against one of the concrete pillar, and seized the moment to knock the sword from his hand- and sliding across the floor.
Ulquiorra leapt onto the hood of a nearby parked car, with Stark in close pursuit of him as he moved from roof-to-roof. At one point, Stark overestimated his swing, and struck major pipline running along the roof of the structure. Preasurized water sprayed forth from the breached pipe (knocking his glasses off), just as the sprinkler systems began soaking the entire parking garage. Ulquiorra spotted his sword in the distance, underneath a car, and set out to retrieve it in the confusion.
Stark wiped his eyes off and spotted Ulquiorra's moving figure. He jumped down onto the ground and began performing a series of back flips- down the isle- to catch up to him.
Ulquiorra dropped down between two cars and stuck his arm under the chassis of one- straining himself to close the tiny gap between the tips of his fingers and the handle. Then, at last, he just managed to get hold of the sword and pulled it out from under the car. Ulquiorra emerged, just in time to block Stark's next attack and deflect his blade as he got to his feet to continue their fight.
Water continued to rain down as the two fought- blades clashing in a flurry of metal and sparks- the downpour turning the dust in the facility into a thin layer of grime. The meager lighting glinted off the coliding blades with each swing taken- Stark's single-handed fencing style and Ulquiorra's two-handed style. The two circled each other, trading blows in this lethal dance.
Then, in a critical moment, the two faced each other, their blades locking. Both men tried to entangle each other with their sword. This back-and-forth went on, until Ulquiorra eventually prevailed and disarmed Stark- sending his rapier flying off to the side with a swipe of his blade.
Stark went rigid at that moment- the blade came back, now resting against his throat. He was finished and he knew it, the sensation of the cutting edge of Ulquiorra's sword resting against his pulse more than confirmed that he had lost this battle. Stark then fell silent, looking the other man directly in the eyes.
Ulquiorra looked at him for a moment, brushing his dark locks out of his eyes with his free hand, before speaking up once more as he surveyed the man before him. "Stark... What happened to Lillynette?"
The other man, his damp dark brown hair clinging to his face, smirked. "My... past... caught up with me... And she paid the price for my sins." He replied, his tone becoming serious. "Ulquiorra..." He began, gaining the other man's full attention as he spoke. "No matter what happens... He must not win."
Ulquiorra nodded in understanding. He slowly drew back his sword from the man's neck, then swung back in a quick, fluid motion- taking Stark's head off in a single clean slash. The head fell to the ground and the now-decapitated body fell backwards, motionless for an instant...
But then, the body began to glow and crackle with energy, and slowly began to rise up- as blinding light blue archs of power crackled around it and leapt outwards. The lightning continued to lash and strike out. Car headlights lit up and alarms went off, even as the energy began to focus in on Ulquiorra.
All of Stark's accumulated power, everything that he was and ever had been, focused into a concentrated blast and struck Ulquiorra head-on like a tidal wave, entering his body- his sword serving as a channeling devise to draw in the fallen warrior's power.
It was like Ulquiorra had touched an exposed power line. And as overwhelmed as he was, the ordeal didn't feel painful, even as he the essence of the man he had just slain became part of him. And then, just as abruptly as the transference had begun, his sword fell from his hand and he dropped down into a battered and confused heap upon the hard ground beneath him...
(- End of Part 01 -)
I hope everyone enjoyed this first chapter. I conceived this story idea as a way of celebrating my tenth anniversary on the site. Rather than just supernatural powers, I wanted to do a Bleach story that had a lot of swashbuckling elements to it. Basically, I wanted the swords they carry to serve a practical function.
Some of the readers will have likely picked up on the fact that this story is heavily influenced by an existing work. While it is based on another idea, it's by no means a crossover, as it revolves around the Bleach characters. As for the inspiration that I keep referring to, I'll leave it the readers imaginations to figure out what it is. Regardless, I've worked hard to ensure that this isn't just a scene-by-scene copy of the original. There's a lot that will diverge from the source material that inspired it. This was supposed to have been out sometime last month, but work and problems with my internet service delayed its release.
Anyway, I hope to have the next chapter part of the story posted soon, and see what all you guys thought of it. Until then, see you later!
-Bojack727
