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'You are being foolish,' Ulquiorra said, dryly.

Stark yawned, and considered at length whether the Cuarta's words merited any sort of response. He supposed they did, or that at least Ulquiorra thought they did – he still did not hurry.

'No more than usual,' he casually responded, so much later that the two sentences seemed positively unrelated.

Behind the Primera, Findor emitted a deep and pained sigh.

Oh well, Stark thought, turning towards the gathered crowd, and looking at them as if he'd seen them for the very first time. He could admit that perhaps he did not appear as particularly wise. He'd ordered Ggio Vega and Findor to gather all the Shinigami into the small square which lied in front of the destroyed Captain's quarters in the small hours of the morning, and he had not bothered to disarm them – it was now approaching noon, and the crowd was beginning to give very obvious signs of impatience and fearful unrest. The sight of the small group of women and children which were held under tight guard at the foot of the hastily erected scaffolding had kept them quiet so far, however, and Stark assumed that the effect of the Arrancar's weapons pointing at the hostages would keep for as long as it was necessary.

On the day that had followed the explosion, the Primera had arrested the families of the Shinigami that had been absent from the barracks on the night of the attacks. He had been holding them for the better part of the week that had passed, allowing for tension to build slowly. For the first two days, the streets of the 13th had been eerily quiet, as if the world had come to a complete standstill. On the third day, the Shinigami had tried to offer themselves up for punishment, in exchange for their families lives – their attempt had been met with cold disdain, and the families had remained captive.

Ukitake himself had attempted to speak with Stark on the matter, but he had not been received; the only reassurance he had been granted was the fact that the families were kept under the guard of a contingent of Arrancar that understood their importance and was unlikely to harm them without orders.

The morning's summons had thus ended a week of silence and pained expectation, but the setting and the scaffolding, which were frighteningly reminiscent of the still fresh massacre in North Rukongai had only heightened the fear. With every minute that passed, the level of tension in the air was increasing steadily, and Stark gave himself the pleasure of looking over his shoulder, to Ukitake's pale features. No doubt, the Primera thought, whatever weakness had been plaguing the Shinigami on the night of the attack was now in full flare and had probably not let up since then. Judging by the fact that his skin was almost translucent, Ukitake should not even have been able to stand.

Their glances crossed for a mere second; strangely enough, though Ukitake's eyes had a certain feverish glow, they carried neither the fear nor the doubt that Stark had hoped for – the Arrancar frowned in displeasure, then turned about. Not much to do there, he thought, with a tiny hint of regret. He'd let the family of his attacker go. After that unusual proof of largesse, it was quite likely that Ukitake did not fully believe that Stark would resort to bloody retaliation against the rest of the Division's families – it did not matter whether he did, though, Stark told himself. Ukitake could still fear a decimation, and the more important part was that the rest of the Shinigami believed that their blood would be shed, in whatever way; their fear and powerless frustration filled the air, making it oddly fragrant – Stark closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, allowing himself to savor the sensation of energy coursing through the fangs of his mask.

He briefly wondered whether Ulquiorra tasted it as well; judging by his the hungrily dilated pupils, Ggio Vega certainly did, and was probably anticipating a feast.

One of the prisoners, a young woman with pale blonde hair looked over her shoulder as the Primera approached the edge of the scaffolding and looked down – she met his gaze and instinctively covered the face of the young child she was holding with her hands. Somewhere in the crowd, her husband or brother noticed the exchange and unwisely attempted to push through the two lines of Arrancar which separated the groups. He was fiercely pushed back, causing the crowd around him to ripple dangerously and spread outwards – a flick of Ggio Vega's wrist caused all the Arrancar to draw their weapons; a few of the Shinigami responded in kind, and someone screamed.

The young woman closed her eyes and held her child closer; tears knotted under her chin.

'Stand down,' Ukitake said, inching forward – Stark's cutting glance stopped him before he could come too close to the edge, but the echo of his voice had carried over the square, causing the Shinigami to hesitate with their hands on the handles of their Zanpakutoh. 'Whatever you're about to do…' he hissed, looking at Stark through narrowed eyes. Stark frowned at the Shinigami's urgent tone, and although he could not have heard the actual words over the increasing noise in the square below them, Ulquiorra too turned his gaze on Ukitake. The Shinigami swallowed the end of the phrase, and forced himself to step back, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

Whatever you're about to do, Stark imagined Ukitake might have said, do it fast.

The Arrancar kept their weapons drawn, and, for a moment, Stark's expression did not change – not paying any attention to the turmoil which had been developing in the in the tiny square, he simply sustained Ukitake's glance. The Shinigami was nervous, Stark noted, still not at the fact that the Primera would go ahead with the executions the others expected, but simply at the fact that the Arrancar would lose control of his troop, and that the resulting skirmish would cause more harm to the prisoners and the Shinigami themselves than the execution or an orderly decimation might have.

Stark wondered whether Ulquiorra was hoping for the same thing; he simply lowered his chin and smiled to himself.

He did not need to look over his see that Ggio Vega and his lot had eagerly begun to push the Shinigami back, overcompensating for the few feet of increase in the spread of the group; he also heard a surge of angry voices rising in protest. Pale as a funeral flag, and trembling with impatience and incomprehension, Ukitake continuously shifted his glance between whatever was going on over Stark's shoulder, and the Primera himself

'What do you want to…?' the Shinigami began, stealing a glance over his shoulder at Ulquiorra, to make sure the exchange went unnoticed; for some reason, Stark thought, smirking, Ukitake still thought that he would be easier to negotiate with him than the Cuarta. 'What do you want?'

The Primera felt tired.

'I would like for you to drop dead,' he falsely grinned – Ukitake clenched his teeth, and the sound of angry voices coming from all about gave way to the hiss of drawn weapons. 'Enough,' Stark tiredly said; the only two that weathered the push of his reiatsu were Ukitake and Ulquiorra. The wave of reishi swept over all others, causing even Findor to wince and take a step back; Ggio Vega's sword arm froze, as if it had been grabbed and pulled back by an invisible force, and both Shinigami and Arrancar drew back from each other, both facing the same unpredictable and crushing enemy.

Uncharacteristically, Ulquiorra arched an eyebrow. Stark simply yawned.

He approached the edge of the scaffolding, only taking passing note of the fact that the blonde young woman had fallen to the ground, covering her child's body with hers, before looking on at the mass of disconcerted black and white uniforms.

'Dear 13th Division…'

Good afternoon, my dear Espada…

'I do not believe we ever benefitted from a face to face introduction,' Stark said. 'Probably my fault, I am not very keen on public speaking.'

The two groups that stretched before him looked to him in equal incomprehension.

'Despite that,' the Primera continued, 'I have an inkling of suspicion that most of you had pretty clear knowledge of where I used to live,' he shrugged, casually gesturing at the crater that lay somewhere behind him. 'I am Stark.' He said, simply. 'I could tell you that I am your appointed shadow, and I could remind you that I am the Primera Espada…'

He sighed and shook his head.

'That is absolutely irrelevant to me, personally, and you already know of all of it.'

The honest tone of his voice gave them all pause – hands still lingering on the hilt of their swords, the Shinigami looked up as one. To Stark's inner amusement, even Ggio Vega was too surprised not to gawk.

The Primera considered his next words, then scratched his head.

'The reason for our little rendez-vous here is, I should think, fairly obvious,' Stark continued. 'What I am very sure is unclear is its purpose; with your permission, and barring that, master Vega's support, I shall take a moment to explain that, before we all go on our way for a well deserved afternoon nap.'

'Over the past week,' he said, sitting down on the edge of the scaffold, and crossing his legs, 'I've arrested a group of twenty two families. The number, I will admit, sounds particularly random, but like with most of the things I actually bother to do, it has a motivation. Twenty two of you, gentlemen…and ladies,' he somewhat reluctantly added, 'were absent from the barracks on the night of the attacks. Unless master Carias here has exceptionally bad record keeping skills, which I doubt, none of you twenty two had a reason for being absent – that is, a reason other than the fact that you knew what was coming, and perhaps participated in the planning. I know who you are,' the Primera said – the renewed wave of punishing energy that swept over the crowd as he looked up was almost accidental, but still caused all to sway and fight for their footing.

'I know all of your names, I know where you live, and I can take an educated guess about what you love,' Stark said, casually looking down at his prisoners – the young woman had not moved, but he thought she was trembling slightly. 'I will not refuse you group anonymity,' he shrugged, 'although I assume that now all of the others know who you are as well. They may hail you as heroes,' Stark followed, softly. 'I acknowledge that, and I guess it is in due fairness. However, I also think that is in due fairness for me to assume that the families of the other twenty seven of you who remained in the barracks that night will have a slightly different opinion of your actions. The families of the eight that died because you kept yourselves safe, but gave others no warning may feel even more different still.'

He allowed the words to sink in, noting the minute motions of the crowd –some disbelief, some stony determination, but also, Stark noted, a few individuals taking the slightest bit of distance from others; some amid the group no longer glanced upwards toward him, but at themselves.

'I do hope that if the past week has taught us all anything,' he continued, still looking over the group of armed Shinigami, 'it is that I can do anything to you. To those I feel deserve to be punished, and to those that even I know do not,' he shrugged, letting his glance slip to the prisoners. 'I feel the latter has turned into somewhat of a repetitive motif,' Stark sighed. 'I hate repetition…Master Vega, if you please,' he tiredly said. 'Let the prisoners go.'

'What?' Ggio Vega breathed, along with almost all others – Stark heard the floorboards creek as Ulquiorra took a heavy and decisive step forward, getting ready to stop the madness in its tracks. The Primera did not bother looking over his shoulder, though he was assured the expression on Ulquiorra's features – or, perhaps, Stark conceded, at least the look in Ulquiorra's eyes – would have pleased him immensely. Instead, he kept his glance locked to Ggio's fury filled eyes.

The group of Arrancar which surrounded Vega looked to the feline in incomprehension, weapons still at the ready and clearly awaiting orders from him, and not the Espada.

'No,' Vega quietly mouthed – Stark imagined that given the noise in the square, he would not have heard the other Arrancar's voice anyway. The Primera shifted uncomfortably.

'I just said I hate repetition,' he dreamily said, before abruptly narrowing his eyes; Ggio Vega doubled over, almost dropping his sword.

Well, who'd have guessed, Stark thought. Being Aizen is a lot more fun than it looks.

The effect of the attack on their perceived leader did not tarry to spread amid the Arrancar – a few glances lingered on Vega for a second longer, but as soon as the feline had faltered to Stark's vastly superior reiatsu, the two lines which separated the hostages from the wider Shinigami group began to thin. Still unconvinced and uneager white uniforms drew to the side, keeping their eyes on a new master that was far harder to read, but obviously not a tad less dangerous or decisive than the old one.

Now, move, Stark thought.

The first one of the prisoners looked through the thinning line, and stood shakily, looking over her shoulder at each motion but dragging her two children along. More followed her as, with uncertain steps, she waded among the thinning line of her captors. The woman was short and somewhat sturdy, with shoulder length dark hair, which the week of captivity had rendered dull, and she walked as if she'd been in a trance.

Justly so, the Primera reckoned, watching her taking all chances and her making her way amid the still drawn weapons of the Hollow. It mattered little whether one was decapitated or shot from behind.

In the end, life is just a long series of unfortunate events.

Then, the spell broke – the group of prisoners gained speed and unexpected fluidity. Uncertain steps hastened; some lifted their children in their arms and simply ran to the open arms of their families. Stark looked for the young woman with the pale blonde hair, but she'd already vanished in the swirling cloud of people. Somehow, he thought, he'd expected she'd be the last to move.

He looked away from the spectacle of people embracing each other and casually assessed whether Vega had come back to himself – despite the openly burning hatred in his eyes, Barragan's former First Fraccion had straightened, and was fiercely gazing about himself. The fact that his long time companions had so easily discarded his authority clearly scalded more than anything else – the sight left Stark strangely indifferent.

He caught Vega's glance, and, as if nothing had come to pass, gestured for him to make sure that the cordon of Arrancar remained in place around the now larger group of people in the square, and Vega complied, making his gestures, and probably, his words, far brisker than the situation might have otherwise warranted. The first few Shinigami who attempted to slip free of the square, after the few moments of relief, found their path barred from all sides, and, within a minute, the realization that the ordeal was not over spread within the group – silence and tension descended once more, covering hasty whispers and sounds of relieved sighs like thin ice stretching over the surface of a puddle.

'We are not yet done,' Stark said, just loudly enough to be heard. 'This was only one of three things I wished to communicate.'

All frightened and uncertain glances turned to him, and embraces grew tighter.

'Findor,' the Primera gently prompted – his words were unnecessary. With regular efficiency, and sensing that his part was up, Findor had already rushed forward, to place a small, lit brazier by Stark's side.

'Now that we have established that I can do anything to you,' Stark said, after rewarding his second in command with a well disguised wink, 'I'd like to establish the reciprocity of that statement. Or rather,' he added, 'the complete lack thereof.'

Still without haste, the Primera pulled his right hand glove off, and rolled his tunic sleeve up. He extended his bare forearm through the open flame – he winced at the same time as the surprised crowd did, but kept his arm steady.

'The fire caused by the explosion, and the explosion itself,' Stark said, seemingly oblivious to the sight and smell of his own burned flesh, 'were much like this flame – regular fire, carrying some tiny traces of reiatsu.'

Ethereal blue particles began raising steadily from the air around him, and dancing towards his injured arm; in the back of his mind, Stark distantly regretted that it was probably only Ulquiorra who understood he was posing no real effort. The Shinigami, and even the Arrancar below seemed almost unduly fascinated – a few quickly cut off gasps escaped as the blue, visible reishi concentrated about the Primera's forearm, and seamlessly settled in the form of his flesh, reforming tendons, muscles, and white, healthy skin.

'This cannot touch me,' Stark said, still keeping his arm in the open flame. The steady influx of energy didn't even allow the fire to form blisters. 'You,' he continued, looking up and causing the entire crowd to instinctively step back in bitter awe, 'cannot touch me.'

'I sense all of your energy levels,' the Primera followed, in a distant tone, 'it is a skill particular to my…natural state. There is not a single one among you that can challenge me, aside perhaps…'

For a moment, he hesitated against full honesty.

'Aside perhaps him, on his best day,' he conceded to himself, casually waving his left hand in Ukitake's general direction. 'But his best day is far behind him,' the Primera quickly snarled; the same unwilling gush of energy accompanied his words.

The crowd was silent once more, bitter flavours of anger and frustration rising from it and filling the air; judging by the few glances Stark had caught, there were still a few who questioned the truth in his words, but then, the Primera thought, that was to be expected. Some truths were not as easy to accept as others.

Stark withdrew his arm from the flame and slipped his glove on, not rushing to speak again, and sensing the hundreds of eyes that were upon him as if they had been the glance of a single, badly wounded opponent. He looked into the distance for a moment, and drew at deep breath.

'I am unsure how obvious this is to you,' he said, softly. 'You probably think our reiatsu levels and our bodies are similar to yours, and that our levels of strength are comparable – this,' he said, once more turning his glance to the trapped enemy before him, and slowly shaking his head in something that resembled regret, 'is not the case. Not because we are in any way naturally superior,' Stark added, 'but because each of us is hundreds.'

He saw some in the group below cringe, and glance about themselves in new realization – they all must have rationally known that his words were correct, the Primera reckoned. It was simply that, in the eerie, still silence of the square, the honesty in his voice forced some deeper understanding.

'There are very few among us that your swords or explosions can harm,' he reiterated, in the same dreamy tone. 'Those that you can harm, like those who died last week, are easily replaced. The fact that they fell to such a weak attack simply implies that they were either immature or unusually weak, and Hueco Mundo,' he continued, allowing himself a bitter smile, 'is teeming with immature and weak creatures, all willing to be elevated by the Hougyaku's touch.'

'You are all fighting a war your leaders have already lost,' Stark concluded, with a mild shrug. 'Last week, I was given some leeway of trying to stop you from doing that – frankly, I am unsure that anything that I could say or do will attain that goal, not until you yourselves admit defeat. We are here to stay, whether you like it or not.' He said, without anger, pausing to allow the words to sink, then abruptly switching both thoughts and tone of voice.

'We shall be introducing a new policy,' Stark merrily announced, getting to his feet in an unusually energetic gesture. Behind him, recognizing the cue, Findor rushed to bring forward a wooden panel, which was neatly covered in a piece of white cloth. Stark grinned, and casually leaned against it. 'The policy will be specific to the 13th, and I shall allow it some testing time, given that it is admittedly…'

He chuckled to himself.

'Rather experimental,' he concluded, with a shrug, pulling the piece of cloth away, and revealing the sign.

He did not look towards the crowd; he had every intention of clarifying his intentions to them in but a minute. The reaction he was interested in was Ulquiorra's, and indeed, as the Cuarta read through the neat calligraphy of the sign, his eyes went wider than Stark had ever seen them, and even the corner of his lips trembled in frustration. Admittedly, ever so slightly.

'All those who commit successful suicide attempts on legal holidays will be removed and destroyed,' Stark read out loud, in the sudden and astonished silence of the square. 'Read it over a couple of times, it has…'

The fact that Ukitake breathed out in relief stopped him short, and he swallowed dry.

'…it has a certain ring to it,' he ended, with a thoughtful frown.

Then, unexpectedly, someone in the crowd chuckled – Stark looked up abruptly, trying to identify who it had been, and meet their glance. It was impossible; the sound had been a short, eerie outburst. Still, some of the many eyes of the enemy before him were riddled with confusion, and just a tiny, disguised hit of relief; others were still filled with rage. Others simply turned to the ground.

'My sense of humour goes unappreciated so many times that it's not even funny,' he sighed towards Findor – the blonde Arrancar did not catch the pun, but oddly enough, Ukitake did, and actually sought Stark's glance, with the shadow of a smile and an disbelievingly amused arched eyebrow.

The Primera frowned deeply, and turned away, to tiredly regain his seat at the edge of the scaffolding. He looked over the amazed group, but set his glance on the horizon.

'Yes,' he said softly. 'Indeed. The new policy means we shall be ending blanket punishments, as of today. I am too sleepy to fight a war that is already over, and I certainly have no interest in spending my time in coming up with brutal new ways of keeping you from doing so. If you wish to keep fighting this war, despite the fact that you cannot touch us, and that the only lasting damage that you do, is damage you do to yourselves, please…Go ahead. We are here to stay.'

'Nap time,' he concluded, shrugging and turning away, while casually waving for Ggio Vega and his troop to retreat and follow him. He did not look over his shoulder to assure that he was being obeyed – after a further second of silence, stunned murmurs and sounds of uncertain steps told him that the crowd was at ease. They were not dispersing yet, but it did not much matter.

He passed Ukitake without looking up.

'You are not foolish,' Ulquiorra said. There was a minute trace of satisfaction in his normally flat voice. 'You are outright insane.'

Stark looked at him through the corner of his eyes, wondering if this statement warranted a response. He sensed that Ggio Vega had used his Sonido to get on the scaffolding behind him, and thought that judging by the fact that his steps were far heavier than his lithe frame would have suggested, the younger Arrancar was also ready to give his unwanted superior quite an earful.

'Aizen-sama will never allow this to stand,' the Cuarta continued; for some reason, the statement sounded terribly amusing, and Stark chuckled.

'Ever the optimist, eh, Ulquiorra?' he asked, and this time, the Primera was the one not expecting an answer.


Up next - well, if IVI does not pick me up at the airport, nothing.

Else, Grimm and Lili get to behave badly.