COLD INTERFACE

A New Enemy's Provocation

"Listen girl... If you don't pick it up, I'm going to strap you down to a pole and leave you there."

Rukia held a box so large her head was concealed, her movements concentrated as she carried it slowly in her arms. "Shut up, idiot." She wasn't the type to blame her sub-par work performance on the fact she weighed under a hundred pounds and stood just below five feet. She sure as hell wouldn't blame it on the fact she was a girl. "And stop calling me girl like I'm some child. I'm only a few years younger than you."

"Your chest begs to differ," Grimmjow grunted as he walked behind her impatiently with three similarly-sized boxes in his arms, each stacked on one another.

Rukia stopped abruptly, her eye twitching in irritation. The sudden halt caused Grimmjow to walk into her, the force causing the boxes to fall. A rumbling of hard contents inside the box sounded as they hit the floor, along with a few metallic clangs. After all the commotion, Grimmjow kicked a box off him and rubbed his head with a growl. Rukia and Grimmjow, along with a handful of other workers, were stationed in the cold and dank warehouse that evening. The warehouse itself was huge, rivaling The Factory's headquarters in size. To get to the warehouse, the seven or eight workers had to be blindfolded on the journey and escorted by a mass of guards. Only two guards remained, though, standing post at the only exit.

"Are you fuckin' stupid?" Grimmjow bit out, rolling over on his side and wiping the dirt from his face as he watched Rukia prop herself on her elbow and wince in pain.

She furrowed her eyebrows and delivered a kick to his shin. He seethed and reached down, grabbing her ankle before she could jerk her leg back. This caused her to squirm and deal skillful blows to his face and chest. He released her ankle and caught both of her hands in his own fists, smirking at her as her eyes widened slightly. "You're wea—uhn! Bitch!" He felt a kick to his stomach and released her hands.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Who's weak?" she asked him haughtily. Before she could raise herself from the floor, she felt a force come over her body suddenly. Her arrogance was overshadowed by Grimmjow's ego, which was far larger and more well-groomed than her own. She raised her knee up and hit him square in the ribcage, but she suddenly came to the realization that it was only her legs doing the squirming. She glanced up and back a little, seeing the teal-haired man's muscled arms stretching back behind her as they pinned her arms to the cold ground. He hovered over her with knees on either side of her waist. This wasn't the most disturbing recognizable aspect in this situation, however. The most noticeable, and notably intimidating, was the large and wild grin plastered across the man's face. His wild eyes matched the smile perfectly, and her own pupils contracted slightly, her heart skipping a beat.

"You're too cocky for a girl with the body of a twelve-year-old. You think you're stronger than me? Go ahead. Escape. If you're so strong, it shouldn't be any problem right?" His sadistic eyes shook with his laughter as he watched her shoot him a look of disgust. Rukia moved her legs around, but she found that kneeing him, even in the groin, was close to impossible. His own body was too close to her waist and the only thing her knee could reach was his ass. She doubted kicking him straight in the butt would hurt him much, given the lack of velocity that she could attain. She tried to retain her cool though. And she would be proud to say that she was doing well until he moved in closer.

"Let me give you a piece of advice, " he said lowly as he lowered his face to directly above her own, only inches separating them. "It's good to have attitude in here. Hell, it might save you from some of the weaker faggots from raping the fuck out of you. But a lot of people see right through you. And even if they don't, it only gives them a challenge."

"I don't need advice from the likes of you," she spit bitterly. Her face remained hard and unflinching even as his smile faded and his eyes dulled into that scarily apathetic look he always reflected.

"I don't know why they brought you here. But if you don't take the advice I give you, you're as good as dead."

Rukia turned her head to the side, not wanting to look at him. "So what do you propose, giver of infallible wisdom? You want me to curtsy and bat my lashes at everyone?"

"Don't be a fuckin' smart ass. Just stop attracting so much goddamn attention. A lot of people have backed off you already, haven't they? Ever since Kurosaki's been acting as your stupid little body guard- you've noticed, haven't you? It's only the guards who fuck with you still." Namely Sir Faggot Nnoitra, Grimmjow mentally noted.

Rukia knew this was the case. She also knew that it was not only Ichigo they were scared of, but Grimmjow too. Although, to say the men were scared was a bit of an overstatement. They just preferred not to mess with the explosive duo. Rukia didn't mention the fact that if Grimmjow and Ichigo were both absent from her vicinity, they did mess with her. But she could handle her own, and felt it unnecessary to complain. "Why do you care? You hate me, right? You're always boasting about how much you'd love to kill me or see me die, and yet here you are, Almighty Grimmjow, giving me advice on how to survive."

Grimmjow's eyebrows rose slightly, but only for a moment. He grunted and got off her, standing up and spitting to the side. "I'm only giving you advice because if you died, Kurosaki would sulk and brood and I'd have to deal with his goddamn emo face the whole time."

Rukia smirked slightly and stood up. She brushed herself off and picked up the box she'd dropped. "You think you can see through me, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, but you're the one who's completely transparent."


Ichigo sat at the open lunch table, his permanent scowl still eminent. He stuffed the lukewarm rice in his mouth and chewed silently, scraping his fork against the tray and moving the carrots around. A lot was on his mind as of late, and he couldn't help but stared off into space and ignore the loud bustling movement and chatter throughout the cafeteria.

"Those carrots are mighty intense, eh?"

The carrot topped teenager glanced up to see a man sitting on the opposite side of the table in front of him. It was a new face, and definitely not something he'd ever associated with before. "Can I help you with something?" Ichigo's voice held a certain level of politeness, with a tint of dark hues and a tinge of cynicism at the unwelcome, and unexpected, approach.

"I'm kinda new here and didn't know anybody. My name's Rujiro. Thought maybe we could be friends. What do you say?"

Ichigo stared at the man. He appeared to be in his late teens. His voice was husky and ragged, his eyes hazel and piercing. He had short blonde hair, a broad but handsome face, and was about the same height as Ichigo, with a matching build of skinny and muscular at the same time. He looked mysterious in that it was easy to interpret his appearance as evil or angelic. His eyes bore bags underneath them, and there was a funny glaze over his irises. But his smile was warm and friendly, not seeming in the least bit forced. "Sure. I'm Ichigo Kurosaki."

"So no girls here, eh? Aw man, I'm gonna die a virgin just like Mom said."

Ichigo eyed him with a hesitant expression, not knowing how to respond. "Uhh, yeah." Ichigo wasn't really one to talk girls, let alone sex.

The man stuffed a big slab of pork chop into his mouth, groaning in depression. "So it's true, then? There really areno girls here?"

"There's two, actually." Ichigo finished off his rice and chugged down some water, his tones slightly clipped.

"Yeah? Tell me about 'em! Are they hot? Smokin' bodies? What are their cup sizes?"

Ichigo's eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Idiot, don't ask me those kinds of questions!"

Standing up, the two men walked over and put their empty trays on the counter where Hanatarou was busy washing them. "So what—"

"Attention, all workers, report to your cell. Attention. All workers report to your cells. The Factory will undergo a lock down. This is not a drill. I repeat . . ."

Ichigo and Rujiro stared up at the loudspeaker and then each other. What the hell was going on?


"Tell us what we want to know! Stop playing fucking innocent!"

Rukia sat next to Grimmjow on a chair. Both of their wrists were bound behind their respective chair as several guards surrounded them. Blood dribbled from the corner of Rukia's lip, her head lolled to the side as she sat unconscious. Grimmjow's eyes were dull and emotionless, his face marred with dried blood and fresh bruises. There was a taste of metal in his mouth, and he could feel throbbing pain all over his body. The situation had drastically changed so quickly that he had trouble figuring out exactly what happened. They were still in the warehouse, he knew. He glanced over to the unconscious Rukia. She'd went out like a light when the last guy punched her.

"Hey, wake her up. Throw some water on her," one of the guards commanded.

Another nodded in understanding and lifted a bucket. He threw his arms forward, fingers curled around the brim of the tin bucket. Water splashed into Rukia's face, drenching her hair and upper clothing. She gasped deeply, inhaling some water, and her eyes shot open. Taking a moment to calm her breath, she said nothing. The guard who'd commanded she be awaken, a lanky and pointy-nosed man, stepped closer to her. He curled his fingers into her hair and yanked back, jerking her head up so her eyes focused on him. "What. Is. The. Infiltration. Unit's. Name." He spoke with chopped words, trying to emphasize the severity of how much the answer was needed.

"I. Don't. Know." Rukia, despite knowing talking back would get her injured, kept going. She hated being helpless, and it was the only defiance that she could manage in this position. The man slapped her fiercely across the cheek, turning her head. He grabbed her by the throat, his hand becoming moist as the water from her hair dripped on to him.

"If being slapped around won't make you talk, perhaps we can get a bit more persuasive." He let go of her throat and started unzipping his pants, ignoring the look of fright on Rukia's face once she realized what he was insinuating.

"Gonna show us your tiny dick? Might make the other guards lose respect for you, you know," Grimmjow said through a grin. He didn't have panic in his voice, so the guard didn't catch on to the fact that it was to distract him from Rukia. It worked, nonetheless.

"Shut up, bitch. You're in no position to talk." The guard went over to him and looked down. He raised his knee and delivered a kick to his chest, which tipped the chair over backwards. Grimmjow hit the ground with a loud thud, but didn't sustain any serious injuries. The only pain caused was in his arms, crushed under the weight of him and the chair. The guard stepped over him and looked down. "Tell us the name of the group that's infiltrating this organization. If you tell us now, we won't kill you."

Rukia wiggled her wrists around, trying to loosen the restraints. It was nylon, so it was tight and thin. She knew she couldn't break it, but she could maybe slip free. Grimmjow had successfully distracted the lead guard, and while the others were mostly focused on those two, there were still one or two guards with their eyes locked on her. She had to be discrete. Her face remained stoic as she slowly slipped her right hand out of the rope. She was becoming extremely worried as the sounds of grunts and punches and crunches sounded from the corner where Grimmjow was getting beat up. She had to make a move and fast.

"Hey, what're you doing?" The guard in front of her leaned to the side to peer around to see her freed wrists.

Rukia jumped up and kicked him straight in the groin. She then jolted to the side and jumped on the back of the man attacking Grimmjow. Wrapping her arms around the front of his neck, she reeled back in attempt to choke him and simultaneously make him lose his footing. Rukia quickly allowed her legs to go slack, dragging the guard down further with her dead weight.

Grimmjow stared up and watched as the guard struggled with Rukia. This wasn't good. Wasn't fucking good at all. Playing the hero was the dumbest fucking move she could've made. She'd get killed for that move...or worse. He tried pulling against the nylon around his wrists, but it wasn't budging.

"Fuckin' bitch! Ghck!" He was having trouble breathing, and the guards were having trouble pulling her off without choking their superior or crushing his windpipe. The lead guard swung around and slammed back into the wall. Rukia's head collided harshly with it, but she kept her hold around his neck. After a few more moments of struggling, he finally pried her arms from his throat and flung her over him. She landed on her stomach. As she struggled to get up, he stomped on her back and crushed her to the ground. "Last chance, cunt. We know you know who it is? Give us the information."

"Nn. Even if I did know, I'd never tell you." Her eyes widened and she screamed slightly as she felt her clothing ripped from her body. She felt weight on top of her, a hand on the back of her head, keeping her face pressed to the ground. The sensation of being blind and defenseless made her body go cold.

"Just what are you doing?" a new voice called. The guard turned his head over his shoulder to look at the new occupant of the room.


Author's Note: If you're confused of what happened with Grimmjow and Rukia, I left a part out as to why/how they're in the room on purpose. Thanks to Lady Foxtrot for beta-ing. Thanks for all the support and comments!

— PB