Same chapter, part 2.

Hopelessly, I am cheering for Grimmjow & the pride.

Halibel stopped, assessing the state of the other Arrancar with a cold, dispassionate glance.

'You are not adept at making friends, Szayel Aporro Granz,' she said, watching the pink-haired Fraccion meticulously pat the corner of his lips with a small and seemingly wet tissue.

'I am seldom adept at things I do not try to accomplish, Halibel-sama,' he responded; he neatly folded the bloodied tissue, and placed it into a square and sealed plastic bag, that had been designed for that precise purpose; if he was not wearing his gloves, Szayel rarely touched anything without having sterilized it first, and, since he hated litter and disorder, he never tossed his alcohol wipes away at random. Nor could he afford to have one dirty tissue contaminating everything else he might have been carrying. Thus...

A place for everything, and everything in its place, Halibel thought.

'Also, I am thoroughly sure that I neither need nor want Grimmjow-sama's friendship,' he added, in a sweet tone that seemed to hint at the fact that he would have preferred other friendships. He clenched his hands around his back, then smiled as much as the broken corner of his lips allowed. 'I believe congratulations are in order, Halibel-sama,' he added.

'Thank you,' Halibel said, with a small amused grin.

There were few in Las Noches who did not anticipate her promotion to Tercera, but equally few who would speak about it so openly – the only one other person she would expect to mention it so casually was Stark; and he, Halibel knew, would not mention it quite on the same genuinely congratulatory tone. Yet, that was only half the reason for Halibel's amusement.

Though Szayel Aporro's tone had indeed been nothing short of truthful, there had been something else underneath, a subtle variation in the man's reiatsu, no more than a breeze, a tiny hint he'd left her at liberty to disregard.

If it hadn't been for me helping Nnoitra, it would have taken longer.

As much was, perhaps, true.

And now, he wanted something for himself, of course.

As, perhaps was only fair.

Halibel measured him at her ease for a few seconds longer, wondering why she had disregarded this one for so long. Perhaps, she thought, years and habitude were not always beneficial to one's attention.

She was one of the oldest Vasto Lorde in existence; as such, she had learned to prize sheer reiatsu strength above all other things. In the end, in a world where everyone's fate was to either consume others or be consumed, spiritual energy was the one common denominator for all. More often than not, whatever the individuals preserved of their former human natures proved detrimental – as Neliel Tu's fate proved, there was little space for emotions in Hueco Mundo, and especially at Aizen's table. Given that, it was almost too easy to forget that another relic of human nature, namely intelligence, could at points prove an advantage – granted, if one's reiatsu was sufficient to sustain it, but...

It was not to say that the Espada were, as a whole, reiatsu powerhouses with little to no discernment – all of them possessed some form of intelligence, or at least wisdom granted by century long existence. Though he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, Barragan was an exceptional leader to his hordes of Adjuchas; Stark, on the other hand was a visionary who could always pick what side of a rising power to stand on, while Halibel thought of herself as an exceptional diplomat and balance seeker. Ulquiorra Schiffer, on the other hand, was in possession of the most exceptional logic and cool detachment – yet, while all of them manifested some form of intelligence, none of them were quite like this one.

Tangible.

Their intelligence materialized in strategy, or warfare, or political manoeuvring. Szayel Aporro's materialized in weapons that could give him what his reiatsu could not.

The human world, Halibel thought, must have clearly changed from what she remembered; this new, frail ghost, had no second thoughts or hesitations about enhancing himself with machinery and he'd wasted no time in doing it. The fact that he had not even stopped to consider growing the normal way, by increasing his reiatsu, but that he had so naturally adopted such an odd method of evolution, clearly showed that, in the world he had left behind when he had died, machines had grown to be a natural extension to human will.

It was odd, and it was new, but, it was certainly not negligible. It would be wrong for Aizen to disregard this one's potential.

'Walk with me, Szayel Aporro Granz,' she said, turning away; the man fell in step, not behind her, but by her side.

Underneath her visor, Halibel grinned.

Grimmjow stopped, and sat on the sand crossing his legs. He propped Pantera by his side, pushing the scabbard into the sand. In his turn, Illfordt sat, stretching his legs, and prodding DiRoi, who'd settled beside him with the tip of his sandal.

'Oi,' DiRoi protested. 'What's the big idea?'

'Ya crowding me,' Illfordt laughed.

'Quit it you two,' Grimmjow warned, baring a canine – DiRoi scoffed, and Illford grinned wide, but they stayed quiet as all the others sat down. 'So what's up, Shawlong? What'd you hear?' the Sexta asked, prompting the other to speak with a swift motion of his chin.

Shawlong did not hurry to answer – the pause might have made him look like he'd been trying to overemphasize his importance, but Grimmjow knew him far better than that, and demonstrated uncharacteristic, trained patience. The scorpion was always slow; that didn't make him less deadly.

'The death of Neliel Tu Oderschvank has been recognized as fact; her seat has been freed. In consequence, ranks are going to be shifted,' Shawlong said, at long length. 'Yet, it is not as one might expect.'

'Us?' Illfordt asked, instead of Grimmjow.

'Not us,' the scorpion replied. 'We stand as we've always stood. Grimm remains Sexta. Yet there will be changes above and below us.'

'Is Nnoitra still gonna sit?' Grimmjow asked. 'Where is he gonna sit?' he reformulated, after Shawlong's short nod.

'Quinta,' Shawlong answered. 'Halibel will accept Tercera Espada. She's been on the sidelines too long, and she had been in line for it anyway.'

The teal-haired Arrancar let out an admirative whistle.

'Well, whaddaya fucking know,' he said. 'It's getting crowded at the top.'

'Ya down with Nnoitra getting fifth?' Illfordt asked, with a little discontent smirk. 'We should be getting one seat up and grasshopper man oughta be standing beneath ya, Grimm.'

'That is also my opinion,' Shawlong said, slowly. 'Yet, the seats are granted at Aizen-sama's discretion, and I doubt anyone save for Ulquiorra Schiffer or Halibel could influence his decision.'

'It ain't like he's accomplished a great feat of bravery,' Illfordt snarled. 'He didn't beat Neliel Tu fair an' square; he ain't proven anything that we didn't fucking know already. Don't see why he gets above Grimm. If anything, everyone should move up a rank, and Nnoitra oughta be getting seventh. At best.'

'Would you like to file a written complaint?' Shawlong asked, again arching his eyebrow. 'No?' he amusedly prompted when Illfordt smirked, but remained quiet. 'I thought so.'

'It ain't bad,' Grimmjow began, thoughtfully.

'You don't mind?' Eldorad asked. 'I would have assumed...'

'Nah, dude,' the Sexta drawled. 'Nnoitra is one crazy fuck; the type of guy I wouldn't wanna have looking up to me an' wanting my seat. Like this, he's gotta watch out for us, and we don't gotta watch out for him. It ain't bad that he gets Quinta, and I don't really care 'bout the name I'm called, as long as they call my name. But, Shawlong,' Grimmjow asked, 'if we ain't moving and Nnoitra gets Quinta...if Halibel was named Tercera and Ulquiorra hasn't moved either...there's two asses on one seat.'

'Ha?' DiRoi perked.

'Yeh, you retard,' Illfordt answered in Grimmjow's turn. 'Cirucci Thunderwitch sits as Quinta. If we ain't getting shifted down, what happens to her?'

'Privaron,' Shawlong responded emotionlessly. 'Or Octava,' he conceded, with a slight inclination of his head. 'She will either be downgraded or completely eliminated.'

The words had carried an ominous vibration, and Grimmjow cursed under his breath. The fact that the blonde and quiet Vasto Lorde, that had so far remained unranked, would take Tercera was no surprise. Halibel was undeniably strong, far stronger than Schiffer. But Cirucci...

'Freaking hell,' he whispered. 'One day you're it, the next you're not. Just like that.'

'I'm not particularly clear on the logic of these movements,' Eldorad observed. 'Cirucci continues to be marginally stronger than Nnoitra and Grimm...'

'Plenty of shit you're not clear on,' DiRoi cackled, showing his rare, ugly teeth.

Eldorad did not take offense, letting Shawlong's cold stare quiet DiRoi. The earthworm was not truly the brightest of the lot; in fact, his skull was probably as thick on the inside as the shell mask that covered it on the outside – yet, if Grimmjow didn't mind his obvious stupidity, Eldorad saw no reason to mind it, either.

'The randomness of the movements cannot be disguised,' Shawlong said, at length. 'I am unsure why we were not shifted. As for Cirucci herself, there is no certainty as yet. Still, it feels like there is little to no thought going into...'

'He's not thinking about it. He's simply keepin' us on our toes,' Illfordt interrupted. 'Sides for the top – Schiffer an' up, he's shuffling us like a pack of cards.'

'Let's leave the fucking strategic thought to later,' Grimmjow said, not showing his disagreement, but rather his lack of interest in matters beyond his control. 'If sorry ass Cirucci goes to Privaron, we're gonna have a new Octava Espada,' Grimmjow said. 'Who's that gonna be, Shawlong?'

'Lilinette didn't overhear that,' the scorpion responded, with the first hint of a smile. Illfordt threw his head back and laughed, as did Grimmjow.

'So you got all of this shit from Lilinette?' the Sexta asked, between wild chuckles.

'Apparently, Stark would like to keep you informed,' Shawlong remarked.

'Between snoring fits,' Grimmjow laughed; in exchange, Illfordt's amusement faded.

'Yeh, well, he could have cracked his eyes open and gotten to Nnoitra before he got to Neliel Tu,' the blonde snarled.

'Ya know that's not how Stark works,' Grimmjow answered dryly; Illfordt smirked in discontent and Eldorad looked away, but neither spoke up against commonly accepted truths. 'So, Stark doesn't know who is gonna be the new Espada.'

'We do not yet know if there will be a new Espada,' Shawlong corrected. 'With Halibel's exception...'

'Let's think through,' Grimmjow said; most uncharacteristically, the scorpion poked his tongue in his cheek and smiled wide. 'Yeh, well extraordinary times ask for fucking extraordinary measures,' Grimmjow grinned in return. 'Who's been made recently that can sit?'

'None,' Shawlong said dryly. 'The conclusion would, therefore, be that whomever will receive an Espada rank is someone already made. There are precious few of those.'

Slowly, all glances turned to the sands, and then, equally slowly, to Illfordt. More displeased than surprised by the attention, the blonde frowned menacingly.

'Wha'?' he inquired, in a furious voice. 'What? I ain't gonna sit!'

'Bullshit,' Eldorad laughed. 'If they ask...'

'They ain't gonna ask me to sit,' Illfordt repeated.

'There's no one else they could ask, dude,' Grimmjow smiled. 'You're 15th; made after Yammy but stronger than him. Stronger than most.'

'They could ask Shawlong,' the blonde Arrancar muttered. 'He was earlier than me.'

'Improbable,' Shawlong responded, in an unconcerned tone. 'Edorad would be another option, but although our reiatsu levels are higher than yours, we have both reached our limits. You have not.'

'Even if they asked me to sit,' Illfordt reiterated, blushing, this time, with pride, 'I ain't leaving you.'

'That's more fucking weak talk,' Grimmjow snarled. 'I am sitting and I ain't left you. There's no reason why you wouldn't do the same – that's what we set out for. To be kings. And if you get asked to sit, you're gonna be sitting. Or I'm gonna crack your skull open, for being chicken shit. Ya hear me?'

'Ya, Grimm, I hear you,' Illfordt returned furiously. 'But you ain't the boss o'me. If I don't wanna sit I ain't fucking gonna be sitting, right? I ain't gonna be shuffled round like a card in a pack, mate,' the blonde snarled. 'I like it how it is now,' he said, drawing a square in the sand, as if trying to show the boundaries of his resolve on the issue. 'I ain't making a play for anything I don't want.'

'Bull-shit,' Eldorad hyphened, and all of the others joined him in laughter.

''Course ya want it,' Grimmjow managed, at length. 'And I ain't telling ya to go murder someone to get it, dude, or fucking go away and never talk to me again till you do get it. I ain't saying that.'

The amused glimmer in the Sexta's blue eyes did not dim.

'I'm just telling ya that if they ask you, which they oughta do, it's fine with me if you get to Espada. Just in case you were wonderin'' Grimmjow snickered. 'Won't make my balls any smaller,' he added, with a wink. 'What would make my balls smaller is if you were asked to sit and you didn't cuz you were afraid of the shuffle,' the Sexta continued, his voice suddenly dripping ice. 'What would make my balls smaller is if you were chicken shit.'

Illford grunted in disapproval and looked away – still, his insides suddenly felt warm, and his heart began beating faster, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he admitted to himself that maybe it wouldn't have been so bad. That maybe it wouldn't have been that bad at all. The position would have definite advantages – not the least of which, the blonde thought, with a sudden grin, the fact that he'd be able to settle his issues with all those below him. Szayel Aporro sprung naturally to mind.

'Fine,' he said, feeling as if Grimmjow's acceptance meant that the seat had already been offered, and that being Octava hinged on that single word. 'Fine.'

Eldorad chuckled.

'And don't start bustin' my balls about it already, eh?' Illfordt muttered. 'We're gonna see what we're gonna see.'

'Yeh, dude.' Grimmjow snickered. 'Maybe they ain't gonna ask ya – they're gonna go for the smart option an' ask DiRoi.'

'Eh? What?' DiRoi snapped to attention. 'Watcha talkin' 'bout me?'

'He's saying how smart and pretty you are,' Eldorad laughed at the earthworm's obvious confusion.

'I ain't smart!' DiRoi protested, taking such honest offense in the statement that Grimmjow leaned over and hit him over the head.

'Make sure we all know it, bro'!' Illfordt chuckled as DiRoi began to whine – and, for a moment, it felt like the shadow of the city behind them, and the hand of the Shinigami that had made them human had never come to pass. It felt like everything was simple, as it should have been, like they were once again alone with the desert, but not alone with each other, kings of nothing who needed no other kings.

'What's the second piece of news?' Grimmjow asked, when the laughter died down.

'There are discussions about an exploration expedition to the human world,' the scorpion answered, all trace of amusement disappearing from his haughty voice.

The shadow of the city suddenly regained force.

'Hm,' Grimmjow said. 'We know who?'

'Stark has been asked,' Shawlong responded.

'An' lemme guess, dude, he turned on the other side and kept on snoring,' the Sexta drawled.

'According to Lilinette, he wished Ichimaru Gin merry sexual intercourse with himself, then turned on the other side and kept on snoring,' Shawlong confirmed. 'Same effect, really. Then Halibel volunteered, and she was refused.'

'Like we didn't fucking know that, too,' Grimmjow sneered.

'And now, prolly, crybaby Ulquiorra's gotta take it on his poor self...'Illfordt began, in a bored, ironic tone.

'That would be the most logical conclusion,' Shawlong responded with a shrug. 'Hakim has been trying to speak with Yammy, but the Decima is keeping surprisingly mum about it. In my opinion, that should be regarded as a confirmation.'

'Fucking hell,' Grimmjow cursed, running his fingers though his hair. 'What the hell is it with Schiffer? Why does he always get to do shit? This,' he began, his right hand darting to Pantera's hilt in a gesture the significance of which the others did not miss, 'is starting to piss me off real bad.'

'It is, indeed, disquieting to note Ulquiorra Schiffer's influence rising,' Shawlong said, slowly; Eldorad and Illfordt nodded in agreement. 'He is already well established with Aizen-sama himself; I assume that his numerous, high visibility missions are meant to endear him to the other top Espada.'

'Or just to make 'em jealous of each other,' Illfordt said, softly shaking his head.

'Like Stark's ever gonna be jealous of Schiffer, dude,' Grimmjow sneered.

'Well Stark ain't gonna be jealous of anythin'' Illfordt insisted. 'But Halibel's a different thing, right? And she's gonna be sitting right on top of him – ain't unlikely that she may feel a bit of a cold breath on her back.'

'Equally,' Eldorad said, 'Barragan really likes his seat.'

'Yeh,' Grimmjow laughed. 'He'd got a fucking fetish about it.'

'But, as we keep seeing from all the strange, unexplainable Espada shuffling, the seat means nothing without Aizen-sama's full-hearted endorsement,' Shawlong said. 'It is not unlikely that Schiffer's high visibility is building towards naming him Primera – the choice being justified not by the reiatsu levels, but by the fact that he is such a useful and thoughtful character.'

'Like we give a shit, dude...' Grimmjow began, in a whiny tone. 'He just pisses me off...'

'Imagine how much he'd piss you off if he stood first,' Edorad simply responded.

'An' he don't like us too much,' DiRoi suddenly said, making all glances incredulously turn towards him. 'What?' he muttered. 'What did I say now?'

'Something smart, actually,' Shawlong responded. 'Listen, Grimm...'

The Sexta smirked horribly, knowing what was to follow and not liking it in the least.

'Ulquiorra Schiffer as Primera Espada is not a desirable outcome,' Shawlong said, slowly. 'He already has tremendous influence on Aizen-sama; if he carried equal authority...'

'That crybaby piece of shit can't have no authority over me,' Grimmjow snarled. 'He doesn't have it now, and he ain't ever gonna have it...'

'The affirmation is inexact,' the scorpion interrupted. 'You do not obey him, but that implies nothing about authority. We have already seen him imposing his Fraccion as Decima, though many others are far stronger than Yammy. If he can name unworthy Espada, he may be able to remove worthy Espada.'

'You're giving me a fucker of a headache, Shawlong,' Grimmjow unhappily replied. 'I ain't good at this shit, dude.'

'And that's why we're buddies with our friendly neighbourhood insect,' Illfordt grinned.

'That's also inexact,' Shawlong answered, with a hinted smile. 'Scorpions are not insects, they are arthropods in the arachnid class.'

'Dude, it's so gay when you say shit like that!' Grimmjow laughed, without spite. He drew a deep, discontent breath. 'So what do ya suggest, arthropod in the arachnid class? What are we s'pposed to do?'

'It would not be bad,' Shawlong said, thoughtfully, 'if Illfordt or any one of us was asked to sit. That would give us more leverage.'

'It wouldn't be bad if Cirucci got pushed down but stayed at the table,' Grimmjow retorted. 'She's pretty neutral. And would save me a lot of headaches...' he regretfully added.

'But in case she does not remain seated, Grimm,' Edorad began, 'we need to keep an eye on Ulquiorra.'

'The only thing I wanna be keepin' on Ulquiorra is Pantera's blade, right through his fucking eye.' The Sexta muttered.

'His influence must be contained,' Shawlong continued, though the statement made Grimmjow roll his eyes.

'Stark ain't never gonna let Ulquiorra be Primera,' he said, as last line of defence.

'That is not how Stark works,' Shawlong briefly reminded. 'In any event, the fact that Neliel Tu is gone is regrettable, but indifferent to us. With Nnoitra being Quinta, the top ranks are still looking well balanced. Halibel is not fond of us, but she is not fond of Ulquiorra, either. Nnoitra is too insane to lean in any direction; I fear whatever destabilizing movements may occur, they will come from the bottom, and not from the top.'

'Bah,' Illfordt interrupted, suddenly standing up. 'That's mouthwash. Ain't none below Grimm that Grimm can't fucking rip apart if they even look at us funny.'

'Nonetheless, we should be looking to a friendly or neutral figure on the Octava seat. Anything else would be...disquieting to our position,' Shawlong concluded.

'Dude, I ain't gonna be playing fucking mind games...If I am worthy to sit then I will, if I ain't I'm gonna rip faces off till I'm worthy again.' Grimmjow muttered. 'Whaddaya want me to do? Go tickle Halibel till she tells Aizen-sama to ask Illfordt to sit? That shit's low. 'Sides, if I even think of tickling Halibel,' he snickered, 'Stark would have my head and Apache would have my balls – I need either one or the other still attached.'

'No immediate action is required,' Shawlong shrugged. 'But quality information would be priceless...'

'Aha,' the Sexta exclaimed. 'So you don't want me to tickle Halibel to tell Aizen to ask Illfordt, you just want me to tickle her till she tells me who he's gonna ask.'

'Not Halibel,' Shawlong continued. 'Or perhaps not directly. A few quiet words with Apache...'

Without noticing the wink Shawlong had directed to Eldorad, Grimmjow suddenly looked up, lighting gathering in his eyes.

'Keep Apache out of it,' he snarled.

Illfordt cast such an ironic glance at the Sexta that Grimmjow felt compelled to tense the fangs of his mask – the blonde's amusement did not fade, and he did not bother to hide it.

'Getting a bit on the soft side, huh, bro'?' he asked, smiling wide, and pushing the correct button. Grimmjow's scowl grew to monumental proportions.

'Wanna get your teeth smacked in?' the Sexta growled.

'Yeh,' Illfordt amusedly responded, accurately calling Grimmjow's bluff. 'Why, you know anyone who can do it? C'mon, Grimm,' he laughed, 'you're already putting a leg over that one. No reason why she wouldn't side with us...'

'No, dude, no reason she wouldn't but if I go and tell her this candy-ass bullshit, I ain't gonna be putting a leg over no more.' Grimmjow snarled.

'Apache is not the brightest mind...' Shawlong began, only to be abruptly cut off.

'It's none of your bee's wax if she is or isn't,' Grimmjow said. 'Fact is, tho' if I tried to use her to do things, I'd feel like a wimp who needs his woman to get to places and I could never get it up again. Also, if she saw me like that, it wouldn't matter if I could or could not get it up, cuz she wouldn't want me no more, for being fucking weak. So keep Apache out of it, yeh? I fuck her because of who I am, not to be who I am. So there,' he concluded, with great satisfaction.

'I swear, Grimm,' Eldorad laughed, 'your buttons are so clear that you could be wearing them on your forehead.'

'Ya pullin' my leg?'

'No, Grimm,' Shawlong grinned. 'We're pulling your tail.'

The Sexta hissed in open displeasure, but, as the others whole heartedly laughed, he managed a smile of his own.

'Y'all are bleeding retards, that's what you are,' he growled.

And, had the conversation stayed at that, Grimmjow would have felt perfectly content to ignore the iron claws that ripped at his stomach.

'The point of watching Ulquiorra Schiffer attentively stands, though,' Eldorad had said, at length.

Grimmjow really wished that he hadn't.

Ulquiorra Schiffer never walked as if he'd been in a hurry; yet, even when he was out for a casual stroll, the Cuarta walked as if he had an absolute and all important target to reach. In short, Ulquiorra Schiffer never looked as if he was approachable, under any circumstances.

Still, what everyone else thought impossible was merely challenging to Szayel Aporro – and since he harboured the intimate belief that anyone could be convinced or seduced, if correct pattern of conversation was found, he did not hesitate to leave the shadows and fall in step with Ulquiorra. Not walking behind him, as most would have, but right beside him, as he had with Halibel but a few hours before.

That was bound to get anyone's attention; and, just going to prove that most things were far simpler than most people thought, it got Ulquiorra's.

'I know what you want to know, Szayel Aporro Granz,' the Cuarta said, dryly.

'You do, Ulquiorra-sama?' the pink haired Arrancar inquired, in his sweet, seductive purr.

'Yes. Cirucci Thunderwich will not end the day as an Espada.' Ulquiorra answered – and though the response begged for a continuation, he stopped and continued to walk at his unhurried, even pace. A few moments of unpleasant and cold silence later, noticing that the other Arrancar was still unconcernedly walking beside him, Ulquiorra cast a brief glance over his shoulder. 'You are still here, Szayel Aporro Granz.'

'At your service, Ulquiorra-sama,' Szayel cheerily replied, and a mild shadow of incomprehension passed over the Cuarta's features.

Ulquiorra sustained Szayel Aporro's glance for a few seconds, then turned his gaze ahead.

'Unlike Arrancar 15.' Szayel Aporro added; this time, Ulquiorra stopped.

It had perhaps been half a century since anyone had hinted at the fact that the Cuarta Espada was not invulnerable.

'Are you attempting to communicate something, Fraccion?' he inquired.

'Merely the fact that, after Halibel-sama accepts the Tercera Espada, the council chamber' Szayel responded, adjusting his glasses, 'will become a most interesting place. For you especially, Ulquiorra-sama.'

'You must mistake me for Nnitora, Arrancar 26,' the Cuarta answered; the threat of relagation to Numeros after Cirucci's demotion did not impress Szayel.

'Not at all, Ulquiorra-sama.' He said, with a brilliant smile. 'I am merely commenting on an interesting political development that may leave all of us in search of subtle allegiances.'

Ulquiorra measured the Fraccion that stood before him from head to toe – and, suddenly, by the soft smile on the other's features, Ulquiorra understood that Szayel was implying exactly what the Cuarta thought he was; that given Halibel's ascent, Ulquiorra himself would need more than before to maintain himself as Aizen's right hand and closest ally. Halibel too coveted the position – and she was certainly strong and loyal enough to attain it.

A less intelligent creature would have insisted on reminding the Cuarta of Grimmjow Jagguerjaques – but this one had simply hinted at Grimmjow, then passed on to the truly important changes, to the things the Cuarta truly needed to pay attention to: the unpredictable combination of Halibel, who loved Aizen as much as Ulquiorra himself did, Grimmjow, who loved only mindless violence, and Stark, who only loved himself that Ulquiorra needed to watch.

'You are a remarkably daring creature, Szayel Aporro Granz.' Ulquiorra said.

'One must be daring, Ulquiorra-sama,' the pink-haired scientist responded, lightly. 'As Nnoitra-sama's advancement shows, only the daring may expect Aizen-sama's rewards.'

And now you want something for yourself, Ulquiorra thought. Disgusting.

He turned away.

But it was not himself that Ulquiorra sought to concern himself with. No.

He alone was meaningless.

It was only with Aizen-sama that the world gathered meaning; and, Ulquiorra was sure, no one as more entitled or better enabled to help Aizen-sama than he was.

'Will you be able to replicate the device you used to cancel the former Tercera Espada's reiatsu?' he asked.

'Yes,' Szayel responded, with no trace of doubt in his voice.

'On a large scale?' the Cuarta continued to question.

'Yes,' Szayel nodded.

'Will you also be able to explain its principles and workings?'

'If I must,' the pink haired Arrancar replied.

The Cuarta silently gazed at him for a few seconds longer.

'You have been noticed,' Ulquiorra said dryly.

'Thank you,' Szayel responded, grinning as wide as his broken lip allowed.

Ulquiorra turned away, and vanished into the darkness.

Szayel Aporro did not follow.