Aah, good late evening to everyone, and thank you for reading and especially dropping us a note :) Since IVI is in the wilderness, doubtlessly enjoying himself with counting how many mosquitoes he can kill in one night, the task of posting tonight falls to me; thus, we shall be seeing that Stark is not a redeemed man, just...a more subtle one, in Chapter 27

Where - We learn that sitting in meetings is not all that it's cracked up to be, especially when no hot refreshments are served.

Warnings - Gin language alert...eh, why do I bother. Y'all are here already :)


My helplesness distracts me from my uselessness.

-Dilbert, Corporate IT Hero


This time, Stark thought, there was no need for pretence. No need to fake a yawn, and no need to keep his eyes half closed.

This time, he was actually sleepy.

The small company sat together and all were desperately wary of each other. Not by strength, but by sheer lack of control, Szayel's impatience permeated the air, giving it a sweet, poignant and fresh fragrance, which completely hid even Aizen's energy and Barragan's open rage. Given how little reiatsu Szayel Aporro actually possessed, it was quite a feat.

The Primera's thoughts strayed far, drawing an improbable and meaningless parallel between Grimmjow's lack of patience for gatherings of all sorts, and Szayel's hatred of sitting idle.

The pretty pink butterfly probably had tens of interesting burned bodies to cut apart back in his laboratory; the last thing he wanted was to sit here, and for the fifth time falsely, but powerfully affirm that he had, indeed, given Unohana Retsu orders to join him in the compound of the 13th division. That he had authorized inter Shinigami contact, because he had deemed it logical and necessary, and that he truly did not understand the fuss.

We're all tired, Stark thought. Szayel Aporro is too tired to purr, and if one looked at him in a certain light, Ulquiorra might appear pissed. Findor, he imagined himself saying, make a record of this – it will be nine cycles of incarnation and tens of thousands of years before it occurs again. Carve the image in stone, my good man.

Ukitake Jushiro had put out the fires that his former underling had set off in a matter of minutes. Sogyo no Kotowari's bankai had swept over the 13th division grounds, and brought semblance of peace over the ruins; the smoke no longer rose in tall, solid pillars, but in wisps which tentatively reached towards the clear morning sky, from a sea of dead ashes - an aftermath which had to be dealt with. How it would be solved was sufficiently important for the Creator to make his way out of the 1st Division quarters, and descend among mortals.

In vulgus. And without tea.

Pale but composed, Unohana sat behind Szayel Aporro, never looking towards Aizen or Ichimaru, but not lowering her glance. Stark could not see Ukitake – just as Unohana, the white haired captain sat quietly behind his shadow, producing no more sound than the pained and predictable wheeze of his breath.

I truly wish he'd stop that, Stark thought.

'I approved the use of bankai,' Stark repeated, for the tenth time.

Or well, he thought, it was probably not the tenth time. It just felt as if it had been, though to Ulquiorra, the affirmation did not seem to exhaust the subject.

'Uhm,' the Primera coughed, raising a hopeful glance towards Aizen. 'Apologies?' he said, topping off his insincere offering with an equally insincere shrug.

Aizen did not react, but Gin, who was sitting at his side, marking an odd, physical balance point between the Octava and the Primera, and the Cuarta and Segunda, shrugged in his turn.

'Ya know, Ulquiorra, that's sorta kinda why we delegated power of authorization. Shit was fuckin' burnin', mate.'

Sometimes, Stark thought, he could assume that under different circumstances, he might have liked Ichimaru Gin.

Ulquiorra was still unconvinced. Not of the necessity of the bankai, Stark thought – the thing that the Cuarta found hard to believe, and the reason why he continued to press the argument was that the Creator was not intervening on his behalf, and that Gin was visibly siding with Stark.

'It is not the propriety of the established delegation method that I am questioning, it is the Primera's usage of it. I am not convinced of the necessity of the bankai itself,' the Cuarta said, dryly. 'No immediate emergency warranted this kind of response; the Octava Espada was making good progress, and, by the time that the bankai was summoned, both populations had been more or less evacuated from the afflicted area. No emergency action was required.'

'Don't get ya, mate,' Gin shrugged, in Stark's turn. 'Ya sayin' Stark oughta have let more stuff burn?'

'I do not believe the bankai was necessary, either,' Szayel Aporro resentfully muttered. 'The situation was under perfect control…'

Gin rolled his eyes. 'Man,' he began whining – Aizen, who'd been dreamily looking away and absenting himself from the conversation, looked up, cutting his lieutenant short.

'Enough,' the Creator agreeably said, and the room became colder. 'This is not a subject of interest to me. Ulquiorra.'

The Cuarta could not have sat straighter in the first place, thus, the prompt did not make his shoulders straighter or his chin rise – it made him vibrate from his entire being, like the pinched chord of a musical instrument.

'Aizen-sama,' he answered.

'I understand the perpetrator is dead,' Aizen followed. 'I trust his immediate family is under arrest?'

Unohana's entire body tensed, and though she did not move, Stark imagined she would have liked to questioningly glance his way before hearing Ulquiorra's answer. To his credit, Ukitake reacted in no way; his energy did not change flavour, and his breath did not change rhythm.

In turn, Ulquiorra smirked, understanding that the discussion had arrived at its important point, and that he would have to admit to failure before all of the others. A small avatar of Lilinette, complete with little feet that could always find one's most tender spots rose and giggled in Stark's mind.

In ya face, Schiffer! She echoed, making Stark wish that when he'd made his decisions, hours earlier, he would have had the pleasure of this moment in mind as well.

'No, Aizen-sama,' Ulquiorra responded, dryly.

Aizen arched a surprised eyebrow.

'Is that so?' he asked; perhaps, Stark thought, some of the surprise was genuine. It was probably the first time that Ulquiorra failed at an assigned task.

The punishment of the increasingly occurring explosion attempts was a central prerogative, and thus one that was not left to individual shadows – the reconstructed Secret Mobile Corps, under Ulquiorra's command, oversaw all matters which regarded the security of Sereitei as a whole. Apprehending the attacker's family, and overseeing the execution, had, therefore, been Ulquiorra's assignment alone.

'My deepest apologies, Aizen-sama. No effort is being spared.' The Cuarta said, with a short bow.

'I should hope so,' Aizen said, dryly. 'I am not enjoying this,' he said, with a twinge of genuine irritation - the occasion was too good to be missed.

'I actually am having quite a bit of fun,' Stark said, in the awkward silence that followed. 'Figuratively speaking, of course,' he innocently shrugged, when all glances, including Unohana's, turned to him.

The situation was tense and eerie, Stark thought, and though he knew he had little chance of defusing it, he would have liked to try, if for no more than in the interest of leaving the room, curling in a corner and sleeping through the next two weeks. He could not guess what Aizen hoped to achieve with this meeting, the first one which had had the shadow Arrancar and the former Shinigami captains in the same room - had it been anyone but Aizen, the Primera might have suspected it was a genuine knee-jerk reaction to the night which had just passed. Yet, had the attempts caused genuine concern with the Creator, Aizen's normal behaviour pattern would have pushed him to take as much distance from the situation as possible, and instead set Gin and Ulquiorra on the blood trail.

Aizen did not show irritation, concern or surprise before his creation or before his humiliated enemies; on all occasions, he was all-knowing, all-powerful and serene.

Why then, Stark continued to wonder, had he staged this? For all practical matters, the situation was more appropriate to a discussion amid the Espada, and having the Shinigami present seemed akin to an airing of dirty laundry. It was not in the New Central's interest to show that Stark and Ulquiorra were at war with each other, nor was it in their interest to show that the Arrancar troop was aware of multiple failures in its security chain. Yet, it seemed that Aizen was pushing precisely towards that - perhaps in as punishment towards Ulquiorra - and if that was what the Creator was seeking, Stark thought, for this time alone he would be a good underling and oblige.

If indeed Aizen was displeased enough by Ulquiorra's uncharacteristic lapse to administer a public dress-down, several advantages could be drawn. Not the least of which, Stark thought, getting a tighter grip on Ukitake's tenders; if he could manage to wrestle some decision making power from Ulquiorra, in what regarded how punishment of various real or imaginary transgressions, he'd have a far more powerful weapon to hold over the Shinigami's head.

Whether he'd use it or not, Stark dreamily thought, remained to be seen.

'If anything,' he began, 'I am surprised at the lack of control of the Secret Mobile Corps. The Cuarta would have us believe that Sereitei is airtight, and that communication between divisions and Rukongai itself is not occurring. Clearly...' he shrugged, leaving the rest to the audience's imagination.

Ulquiorra tuned his frozen glance towards Stark.

If looks could kill...the Primera thought, with an inward chuckle. He pressed.

'To me, it looks that the only thing that the Secret Mobile Corps is succeeding at is making normal and approved communication channels and supply lines hard to use. I mean, getting a transport of new uniforms is an uphill battle, but smuggling explosives seems to be a synch. No offence, master Schiffer, but I think it should be the other way round.'

'It can be pointed out,' Ulquiorra replied, in a flat voice, 'that nothing of this scale has occurred anywhere else. I can, therefore, assume that it is something in the lax supervision of the 13th that enabled this event.'

Stark grinned wide.

'Well, that's possible' he said, 'but the point remains. Without the explosives, all that the lax supervision would have led to would have been some organised but harmless outlet of public anger. I don't know - something along the lines of egg-throwing? Ironically, getting hold of an egg is harder than getting a bomb. Maybe the reasons should be sought there?'

'Ain't ya a bit too chilled 'bout all this, Stark?' Ichimaru questioned. 'I mean, fucker, ya just got your house blown up.'

'But he has, in fact lost nothing of importance to him,' Barragan thundered, finally joining the fray. 'It was my troop that was struck - and I do not care whether it is the Cuarta's incompetence or Stark's characteristic, disgusting, sloth to have caused this outcome. I,' he snarled, making Unohana shudder, 'demand that I should be entitled to exact punishment…'

'During the working week, demanding is free of charge,' Szayel Aporro dreamily said, speaking towards the ceiling, and clearly wishing to keep a closed issue closed.

Barragan's displeasure at having his troop separated and given over to the other shadows was well known, and the subject had been discussed and re-discussed. Aizen had made his decision on the subject quite clear – the newly created contingents belonged to their respective shadows, and Barragan had no further rights over them. Though the Segunda had had little choice but to swallow the bitter pill, he gave up no opportunity of re-claiming de facto ownership of his legions.

'Shut your mouth, you backwards little bastard,' Barragan exploded, majestically rising to his feet, and bringing the entirety of his reiatsu to bear to counter the interruption; his open aggression distracted even Aizen, giving Stark the occasion of meeting Unohana's glance, and raising his eyebrows to signal that he had no clue where the discussion was heading, but that he was enjoying the scene. The woman looked mildly surprised by his attention, but nodded minutely to acknowledge she understood the statement for whatever it was worth.

For a second, Ukitake's breath hitched in surprise, in sign that he had not missed the exchange.

You don't miss much of anything, do you, Stark thought, sensing that the familiar fury had begin to stir and averting his gaze from Unohana's.

'I mean no offence to you, Barragan,' Szayel finally purred, the threat of the Segunda's energy making him retreat into his helpless kitten routine. 'But, if I may,' he gracefully shrugged, 'this is an issue that should be settled between yourself and the Primera; my presence here is unnecessary, and we are needlessly retaining Unohana-san from her duties at the 4th. Our time could be used far more efficiently, in analyzing samples and attempting to trace this new brand of explosive...Am I wrong, Aizen-sama?' he asked, raising his warm, adoring glance to the Creator.

Aizen did not react; in his stead, Gin helplessly looked around the room.

'Let's just all take a step back, 'ere,' he said, scratching the back of his head. 'Don't get so pissed fo' nothing, Barragan, eh? Szayel Aporro was just sayin'. He didn't mean to bite yo ass. An', Stark?'

'Yes?' The Primera dutifully perked.

'I see where ya goin' with stirring up shit, an' I don't like it, so - can it, mate,' Ichimaru said, his grin turning toothy.

Stark shrugged, and yawned so wide his jaws cracked.

'I was simply attempting to be constructive,' he said, smiling and speaking towards Aizen as well as Ichimaru. 'Someone has to step up and fill Grimmjow's role when he is not about, I feel.'

He met Aizen's gaze and narrowed his eyes.

If you want something else, be so kind as to say it clearly, the Primera's glance said. Else, we have all had a very long day and would politely ask you to…fuck off.

'If you are displeased with central enforcement mechanisms,' Aizen said, smirking as if he had read the Arrancar's mind, 'do you have anything to propose, Stark?'

'Nonsense,' Barragan unwisely blurted. 'He's going to slither under a rock and sleep for ten years, while my troop has suffered...'

'I am speaking, Barragan,' Aizen said; quick thinking and reflex caused Stark and Ulquiorra to arm their respective Hierro at the same time. The full force of Aizen's reiatsu descended upon the room without warning, causing Szayel Aporro to gasp for air and emit a comical and honest pained squeak.

At the center of the room, Barragan was doing his best not to fall to his knees; the reiatsu slam had been centered on him, and merely sustaining the tremendous pressure caused crimson to creep across his wrinkled face. He could not even turn towards Aizen to question the punishment, or in any way plead for the open and sudden humiliation to cease, and, too amazed at the display to control herself, Unohana looked at Stark in open question, slightly shaking her head. Stark did not make the mistake of responding by even the most minute shrug.

In exchange, hoping that the sudden attack had caused some harm to Ukitake, Stark stole a quick glance over his shoulder - the white haired Shinigami was frowning with effort, but was enduring far better than Stark would have liked. In truth, Stark thought, Aizen's reiatsu attack was probably far less painful to Ukitake than having to watch the three Espada bare their teeth to each over the right to punish his division, without any means of intervention.

Three very hungry wolves, circling a thoroughly helpless flock of sheep.

Stark lowered his glance, and grinned in a manner which would have made Unohana's blood freeze.

How appropriate.

'I am getting increasingly bored with events like these,' Aizen said, kindly, addressing the threat at the entire room, but not letting the intensity of his grip on Barragan loosen. His glance slid meaningfully to Unohana. 'I believed that I had made myself quite clear in North Rukongai. Do I need to repeat myself?'

'However many times you believe it is necessary and wise, Aizen-sama,' Unohana responded, in a serene voice. 'Yet, I believe you not only made yourself understood – if anything, last night shows that you have even succeeded in teaching us all how to speak your language.'

'Aye, well, an' 'ere I thought Stark was teachin' ya how ta…' Gin began, with a wolfish grin. Ukitake's reiatsu stirred, making it unpleasantly obvious that withstanding Aizen's pressure was not taxing him at all. Still, at that very moment, Stark found that he could not have cared less – a faint, pink hue had ascended to the woman's cheeks; she had not yet lowered her glance.

Stark discovered he did not want her to.

'I believe it is obvious that centrally applied deterrent policies are not functioning.' He said, clearly and decisively, in a tone of voice that none of those present, with perhaps Unohana's exception, found familiar.

'I believe I would have to hear your definition of policy,' Ulquiorra responded – and, Stark thought, feeling sweet joy, now the Cuarta was openly irked.

Where are you, Findor!

'They explode in a market at the bottom of Sokyoku Hill, we execute their families and then kill some folks in Rukongai. They explode in my living room, we try to execute their families, then kill some folks in Rukongai. Rinse and repeat,' Stark shrugged. 'We've been doing that for almost a year now, and nothing much has changed. Except for the fact that families seem to have gotten brighter than Ulquiorra, and that I no longer have a piano. I really liked my piano,' he sighed.

Unexpectedly, Gin chuckled – for an eerie moment, the balance of power and understanding between him and Aizen seemed to reverse. The Creator looked at his lieutenant with an inkling of surprise, then visibly refrained from comment, allowing him to take lead.

'Well, well, if someone didn't eat their initiative cookie this morning!' Gin exclaimed. 'What's with ya, Stark, ya got hit over the head by a log or summat?'

'No,' Stark yawned. 'But I do not like having to suffer for Ulquiorra's failings…or well,' he reconsidered, distantly wondering if he could actually push Schiffer to draw on him, 'having to manage the outcomes of a process I don't control.'

'OK,' Gin concluded, as Szayel Aporro finally managed to bring his Hierro up, and felt strong enough to look towards Stark as if the Primera had been a tentacle alien being, 'ya didn't get hit over the head, ya actually died an' are channeling eh…Halibel? I knew ya were close, but not that close!'

'Look,' the Primera sighed. 'It is apparent to me that the former Gotei divisions were completely separate tribes. Apologies for the fucking obvious,' he said, in Aizen's direction. His mood apparently generous enough for him to cease the reiatsu pressure, and allow a deeply repentant Barragan to breathe, Aizen nodded. 'What may work with one division may not work with another…'

'The Segunda seems to have things well in hand,' Ulquiorra interrupted; though his eyes glowed with anger – a sight that reminded Stark of the Ulquiorra Schiffer he'd known before the Cuarta Espada had come into existence – his voice was still perfectly flat.

'I am unsure about that,' Stark answered. 'If you consider the disposition of the division compounds, you'll note that that 6th and the 8th are positioned centrally, and have fewer openings to Rukongai. Really hard to tell whether the lack of noise is due to Barragan's wise behaviour, or to the simple fact that the resistance networks have not penetrated that deep yet.'

'I agree,' Szayel Aporro unexpectedly spoke up. 'The correlation is unclear. My shadow command has been equally uneventful, and my two divisions are almost at full effective, complete with the old governance structures. On the other hand, Stark, the 12th borders on Rukongai in almost its entirety. Your correlation is also unclear.'

'Yes, but no offence Szayel Aporro,' Stark shrugged, with a small uncomfortable grimace, 'your people are a priori really, really weird. Nothing that's normal applies for the 12th. You are, hm,' the Primera thought, seeking the correct word, 'an outlier.'

Szayel Aporro emitted a theatrical huff, and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly taking offence in the fact that his language had been used against him. Gin chuckled again .

'So,' Ichimaru picked up, with a swift shrug. 'Ya got any ideas, Stark?'

Ukitake cringed; the flavor of his energy changed, and the sound that Stark had been hungrily listening for, the minute hitch in the permanent wheezing of the Shinigami's breath, resounded louder to his eager ear than a cathedral bell on a clear morning.

'I might,' Stark said, without haste.

He did not hurry the crucial moment – instead, he once more yawned, and stretched at his leisure.

'If you will consider letting me implement my own deterrence tactics, rather than rely on central enforcement,' he said, 'I'll definitely give it some thought.'

Aizen and Gin exchanged a glance, while Ulquiorra forced himself to keep staring blankly ahead, as if the situation had not concerned him.

'You have a week,' Aizen said, at long length; he stood and left, with Gin and Ulquiorra gliding noiselessly on his trail. A reluctant, and still red-faced Barragan visibly hesitated, but then turned to leave as well, still chewing on his impotent fury. Once Aizen had passed through the door, Unohana Retsu breathed out in relief at the very same moment when Ukitake Jushiro allowed himself to breathe in in true apprehension; it was Ulquiorra who spoke up next.

'I wonder why the notion that the explosives may not be smuggled in from the outside, but could actually be made within Sereitei is not occurring to anyone,' the Cuarta said, coldly, just before disappearing into the corridor.


Up next - Stark mercilessly quotes a modern day dictator. Well, you didn't imagine he only quoted french philosophers, did you?