Before you read, I just wanna say I'm really, really sorry for my lack of downloading as of late! Semester exams and all that. BUT! It's summer so that means break; and that means MORE WRITING! HOORAY! :D
Toshiro knew what torture was. He'd been kidnapped, tortured, and maimed, and had read the definition of it in a dictionary sevral times. So, if you wanted to be technical about it; this wasn't torture.
Kidnapping, yes. Being held against your will, definatley. But torture? No. This was not torture. This was one notch below it, however. A very, very, very, VERY small notch below it.
"okay, so... ack-What the... Unglorified...This isn't... -the hell?- ...one half a cup of vinegar... The F*** is vineger?"
Grimmjow, decked in a white apron he barrowed from Szayel, was trying to help the tiny Taicho find something nice to eat. Considering where they were, however, that would not be easy.
"Seriously?" Growled the Sixta at the book. Apperently, Szayel had somehow got his hands on a cook book in the world of the living off-page called A Healthy Dose. A healthy dose of what, however, was the quistion.
Frowning, the Captain went back to thinking of what this could be considered. Affliction? No. Anguish, no. Distress? Possibly. Dolor? Maybe...
The counters were a mess, sevral failed experiments on the tables. Harribel had tried first, she'd read a magazine in a check-out line saying all women were great cooks at heart.
Szayel had called later in the informary to prove to them oh so kindly just how wrong they were.
So with the Eighth and Third out, Ulquiorra had tried his hand at cooking. he'd tried twice. The first time they'd had to kill it. The secant... Ulquiorra was banned from the kitchens for life; to say the least.
So now Grimmjow was up, and had decided on Barbecued Tex-Mex Wings. It sounded a lot less hard then what the others had tried, but Toshiro still stayed at least twenty inches away. He didn't want to know what this one would concoct.
Grimmjow scowled at the book, then smashed it to the tables. Angrily, he was about to give up; before looking behind him and seeing the Kid.
He faltered.
Alcapone Junior, Nnoitra had called him. And he was right. The Kid was always calculating, always looking, seeing, hearing. Would it be so bad to try? all the kid needed was something to eat. How could that possibly be so hard to do?
Grabbing a fork with a new determination; Grimmjow handed the Kid over to Nnoitra, who only looked on in horror as a response, too frightened to say anything. He didn't say a word as he opened a Gargantua and left to Tokyo, Japan.
The screems of terrified citizens came all around. Buildings were on fire, cars were uplifted, explosions littered the ground like sand from a catbox and random areas were black wholes on the ground.
And floating in the middle of the mayhem, stood a scowling Grimmjow.
Seriously. All he'd wanted was some G** Damned Vinegar, and now there was chaos gallore. Seriously! Seriously! Could he not go on one mission without devastating something?
"I know where you can get some Vinegar..." Grimmjow's eyes widened. Swerilling around; he saw an old man in a mud brown cloak with a gravilly voice.
"Where?" He asked suspiciously, brows knitting together.
The old man pointed off into the horizon. "A small pub called Urahara's Shop,"
The old man paused.
"But be warned, stranger. The trail will be difficult and hard. Are you prepared to face what follows?
Grimmjow nodded briskly. He had to, no matter the danger.
It was for lunch.