A/N: I'm back. Hope you all didn't miss me all that much. Currently, I'm hiding in my bunker with my laptop and enough provisions to last through the next ten chapters of WLoM. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Quick update on this fic: There's only going to be three more chapters. Hopefully. Crossing my fingers, here. I'm so close to concluding this fic that I've been developing a nasty twitch over the last week or so. I'm so excited and so sad at the same time. This fic has been so much fun to write, and I'm mourning the fact that I'm letting it grow up.

Moonlight by The Piano Guys is the inspiration for this chapter.

o-o-o-o

Chapter Fourteen

Grimmjow was woken by soft steps next to his prone form. Wearily, he pried one eye open, refusing to allow himself to stay in unconsciousness while there was anyone nearby. His head ached, no doubt because of the torture that Tsukishima had put him through hours earlier.

He couldn't tell how long he'd been tied to the metal table. All he knew that he was in pain and if he got free, he could name several other people who would be as well. He noted that there were also several IV's hooked up to his arms. He remained motionless as he realized who exactly was prowling around the table and looking like he wanted nothing more than to rip him apart with his bare hands to dissect him. His eyes, however, honed in on the six that could be seen peeking out from under the low cut white pants.

"Didn't realize they let runts like you take over the Sexta, Luppi." he barked out a laugh mockingly, unable to resist the temptation of baiting the feminine soldier. Luppi and Grimmjow unfortunately had a past, and not a pleasant one. The runt had always been on his back about something or other, and it was a well known fact that if Grimmjow wasn't so agressive and cunning, he would have become the Sexta. However, every murder attempt failed, mostly due to the fact that Grimmjow was known to be unbalanced to begin with. Not only that, but he had been an uncontrollable war machine. He went into a bloodlust that lasted well until after a battle, and he would kill both enemy and ally alike if they had the misfortune of crossing his path.

But he was no longer that war machine. He had refused to stay like that, barely even human as he had murdered hundreds with barely any remorse. It was the reason that he had stayed Sexta for so long.

"So cocky, aren't we?" Luppi replied delicately, hiding his face with one of those damned long sleeves. "I was wondering the same about you for so long, too."

Grimmjow snorted, earning a raised brow. "Is that the best you've got?" he taunted, feeling a feral grin cross his lips. The beast inside of him was already waking, calling for this pup's blood to be spilled, urging him to escape and kill anyone who dared cross him.

"Of course not, cat." Luppi replied easily, turning, the tent flap still open and allowing the light from outside to shine in faintly. If he'd had to guess, Grimmjow would say that it was late afternoon, perhaps early evening. "And as fun as it is to have such a pleasant conversation with you after all of these years...I have my orders."

Turning, Grimmjow was unable to tell what the black haired male was up to, but he quickly found out at the current Sexta turned, a syringe in his hand.

"You recall Zommari's Brujeria, no?" he questioned blandly, flicking the side of the syringe and causing a few droplets of the indigo liquid within to churn unpleasantly. "While Brujeria is a powerful sedative, Amor has a far more deadly effect on its host. There's a hallucinogen that causes a hormonal imbalance that has a rather nasty habit of raising aggression levels to extreme heights. Zommari developed it just before you killed him."

Grimmjow bared his teeth at the syringe as Luppi advanced on him. Straining against the ties, he felt one begin to give under the extreme pressure it was being forced to endure, but it was too late. Luppi swooped in, a sneer on his features as he plunged the metal into his flesh.

"Good luck, cat. You're going to need it." Luppi hissed viciously before ripping the syringe from the crook of his elbow before leaving, closing the tent flap behind him.

Grimmjow grit his teeth at the sharp stinging that was radiating out from his elbow. Already, he could feel an uncomfortable amount of heat creep over his torso, and he idly wondered what the hell was in store for him before losing unconsciousness for God knew what time.

o-o-o-o

Although Ichigo had submitted to Los Lobos as the Alpha, it didn't mean that the Wolfdog liked it. Oh no. It was the exact opposite. The only person he would allow near him was Shirosaki, although that was most likely because he was Zangetsu's handler. If they had to pick one word to describe the canine, it had to be sulky. Hands down, it would be sulky.

Starrk could feel for the poor canine, but since he was still considered the rookie of the Pack, he wasn't going to let the young Wolfdog get any slack. He treated him the same as any of the other dogs, to which no one even batted an eyelash to. They knew Starrk's way of training wasn't in the norm, and had long ago learned not to question it. Unless the idiot who happened to object was Shirosaki. He never seemed to learn, as everyone was proven time and time again. The albino just couldn't get it through his skull that Starrk was the Pack leader, and he was not.

All in all, it was amusing for everyone else to watch Shirosaki attempt to go toe to toe with Starrk. The slate eyed male had been through more war in a several months than Shirosaki had been through in his entire life, and hardly anything phased him anymore. He was calm, level headed, and not one to take any shit from Shirosaki. On the contrary, if the albino had been a canine, he would have run the other direction with his tail tucked tightly between his legs and never have come back.

Now only if it would stay that way.

"What's wit' all o' this damned waitin'?" said albino drawled, his gaze honed in on Starrk as he leaned neutrally against the trunk of a tree. "Blue's stuck down there in that hellhole an' all we're doin' is sitting around wastin' our time!"

"I gotta agree with him for once." Nnoitra shrugged. "Sure, Six pisses me off beyond all imagining, but who knows what they're doin' to him?"

Starrk fingered his holsters lightly, causing both males to suddenly rethink their words, but Starrk spoke before either of them could go off in babbling nonsense.

"We're waiting for an opportunity." he stated simply. "I've been watching the camp for a couple of nights now, and it seems as though Aizen himself is going to be making an appearance soon. I have a feeling that Grimmjow is the reason why."

No one could really argue with that kind of logic. After all, almost all of the men and dogs present lusted after the bastard's blood. They had been waiting for a chance like this for years. Starrk subtly sent a glance towards Ulquiorra, thinking of how the pale skinned man would especially want a part in their former Lord's death. And personally, Starrk didn't want to be in a ten mile radius if it happened. Ulquiorra had been abused practically since he was a child, picked up from the streets at the youngest age of six. He had been raised in cruelty, treated like trash the entire time that he had been an Espada, and it had left deep emotional scars that he wasn't sure would ever fade with time.

Kira was the only one who seemed to be confused, but Kenpachi simply gave a curt shake of his head as the timid blond sent him a curious glance. It was not his story to tell. Only the others could tell him what they had been through and why they thirsted for revenge.

Sighing, Starrk snapped his fingers, and Los Lobos appeared at his side. Looking up at the quickly darkening sky, he began making his way out of the small clearing that they had claimed as their temporary camp, headed back towards the fringe of the trees overlooking the camp. He wanted to make sure that there would be no flaws in this plan. He had to make sure that they had their chance to end Aizen's command of terror for good. And if it meant taking down every single Arrancar that got in their way, than so be it.

o-o-o-o

Grimmjow whirled, his teeth bared as the men closed in on him. His long matted hair was now coated in blood, though whether it was his or not was to be determined. One leg was seeping blood from deep teeth marks from one of the dogs who had been foolish enough to come close to him.

In the back of his mind, he could only watch in mute horror as he watched himself become the war beast he had disowned, refused to become again. And yet, with Amor he was doing exactly that. His blood was thrumming in his veins, calling out for the blood of battle, desiring their enemies flesh.

Turning, he lunged at one of the soldiers who had dared come close enough for him to sink his teeth into his shoulder as his powerful fingers crushed his windpipe, jaws dripping with crimson. He was immune to the pain his wounds would no doubt cause later, but at the moment, he was free. He was Sexta, and none could stand in his way without being crushed underfoot. This was his kingdom. He was the King of his domain, and any who dared trespass would pay with their lives.

The carnage he brought in the makeshift arena was extreme. Bodies littered the dusty ground, blood sinking into the earth and staining it dark as he ripped through the ranks of the recruits foolish enough to think that he was a tame kitten since he had been away from the Espada for so long. He proved them wrong, one by one, as he killed them without mercy.

That is, until there was the sound of a gunshot in the air, and then silence fell. He felt his hackles raise as his head snapped towards the sound, teal honing in onto the dull brown of a man he thought he would never see again.

"Hello, Grimmjow." Aizen said.

o-o-o-o

Starrk lowered the binoculars, his face grim as he saw the familiar brown haired man exit the dark jeep.

This really wasn't good. Aizen was here now, and they had no idea what state their missing comrade was in.

Silently, the slate eyed man wriggled backwards, gesturing for Los Lobos to follow. Then, he ghosted through the trees, making his way through a complicated series of twists and turns that would hopefully lose anyone who would be trying to track him back to the camp.

As he entered the camp, Starrk was quiet, shaking his head slightly at the glance that Ulquiorra spared him as he made his way over to his one man tent so that he could grab some of the dry foods that had been sent along with the pack.

"Well?" Shirosaki and Nnoitra demanded, nearly shoving one another out of the way in their eagerness to get to their designated mission leader. "What the hell's going on down there?"

Starrk took several moments to seat himself and then settle in before he raised his gaze to meet each of the team's, his tone heavy as he spoke.

"Aizen's here."