Trying something fun, you guys, so hope you like it. Just a heads up, the description was on poind with sex drugs and brutality, so we are kicking this iff as M and staying there. Enjoy! -Pan!c
Chapter 1- Grimmjow
I couldn't help my sigh as I stepped up to the scuffed metal door and wrinkled my nose in disgust at the sound of the heavy bass that seemed to shake the foundations of the building. I fucking hated this place. What I wouldn't give to get on my bike and ride the fuck away from here into the desert until I was too far for even Aizen to track me. Freedom.
As soon as the thought hit my mind though, I shook it away as if it had burned me. As if Aizen owned my goddamn mind like he seemed to own everything else. He didn't- but he sure as hell tried. Fucker had literally built a fucking throne to sit on! Asshole. Either way, it didn't matter. I was a Hollow- born, bred, and bled into this gang and numbered to prove it.
I didn't dislike it, don't get me wrong. As an Espada rank, I got plenty of perks. Money, women, drugs- whatever the fuck I wanted- unless one of those damn Reapers tried to stand in the way of my score. Even then I had license to kill damn near indiscriminately. What can I say? The view is good from the top.
Except for the view of this fucking rat hole of a strip club. What all those dumb asses fighting for a number would never realize was that it came with responsibilities. Expectations. Headaches. Like this place. Not only did I have to help run this sad excuse of a front, named the Hole Package for fuck's sake, but I had to do it with fucking Nnoitra Gilga.
I mean, I get why Aizen picked him. You couldn't find someone better than him at amping up men and turning women into objects if you scoured the world with a microscope, but his voice made me want to die inside after less than a minute. More power to him, who gave a fuck what he did or how he hurt or helped. He was an Espada just like me. We were gods among men, kings among sad, pathetic little peasants. Let him burn the world down however the hell he wanted. Just don't make me be around him. Unfortunately, after Aizen's hostile takeover, certain choices were removed.
Luckily, this was Nnoitra's favorite place in the god forsaken world. Praise, violence, and pussy in abundance. At the root, he was a simple guy. His love of it meant I got to escape more often than not to cause my own chaos, which generally meant destroying the Reapers fronts and hideouts. They thought that living on the right side of the tracks could protect them. They thought it made them holy or some shit. But just because Nnoitra didn't pick out some god-awful name for their money launderers, didn't mean that they didn't have their own rat holes for the job.
"Are you gonna go in or what?!"
The gratingly high-pitched voice scraped at my sensitive eardrums and I looked over my shoulder at the skinny punk behind me with a snarl. Some nobody who thought that little dot of a hollow tattoo on him made him tough. A fucking coward who I could see swallowing whatever other reply had come into his tiny brain as he realized who he was talking to. I'd killed for less than that. He knew it.
"Gri-Grimmjo- I mean Mr. Jaeger- um… Jaegerja"
"Shut up."
It was more of a growl than words but it made the wanna-be stop his incessant sniveling. Or not.
"I'm just trying to get in, sir," the pathetic little man sniveled some more, "It's almost Venus's time to perform and it's kinda a rare-"
This time I shut him up with an elbow to his nose. Of course, he didn't see it coming, not thinking I could hit behind me, and he fell to the ground with a small cry that sounded nearly feminine. This was what wanted to rise to be the Espada? If that ever happened, the Hollows were doomed.
"What the hell is going on over here?"
A lumbering guard appeared and now I shot my trademark dead-pan glare at him. This one stopped dead in his tracks, too. That's a fun trick. However, the guard took in the scene between me and the crybaby still holding his nose on the walkway. I raised my eyebrow as the guard stepped forward but then he simply grabbed the coat of the weakling and dragged him off the path for other people and turned to go straight back to his post.
Oh look! A smart one!
At least the whimpering disgrace had jogged me out of my daydreaming, and I gritted my teeth, shoving the door to the club open. It was an all-out attack on my senses. Mumble rap with overwhelming bass and no discernable tune assaulted my ears, the flashing strobes of the stage were blinding and don't even get me started on the smells. Stale beer, sweet liquor, sweat, and slashes of cloying perfume made me want to hurl. Give me gasoline and dry desert winds any day. Nnoitra wasn't so far off in calling this dump a hole.
"Grimmjow!"
And there was the worst of it. Standing over a head taller than everyone else in the room with lank black hair that hung to his chest, it was never hard to find him in a crowd. If that description didn't do it for you, his out-of-place, lecherous smile and eyepatch should give him away. Or the tattoo on his tongue. Weird fucker.
"Grimmjow, my man!" Nnoitra said happily again as he slung a long arm around my shoulders, regardless of the fact that I was in no way 'his man'. "Welcome back to our beautiful den of iniquity," he rasped, reaching out to swat a waitress on her scantily clad ass as we walked by.
God and she smiled at him for it! I really was gonna fucking hurl.
"Lets get you a drink man!" Nnoitra continued to prattle, "All work and no play makes you too damn dull!"
He tried leading me to a seat at the stage but fuck if I was going to even let my ass touch one of those chairs. "I gotta get this in the safe," I told him shortly, pulling out from under his arm. Years we had been at this and he still didn't get that I didn't want to be touched.
"Whatcha got there?" he asked as his smiled widened and he licked his lips, finally noticing the silver case I carried. "Spoils of war?"
"I prefer to think of it as the fruit of destruction," I said with a smile. The smile grew as I remembered the posh little poker club I had invaded over in the Reaper's territories. More accurately, I remembered what was left of it.
That was my true schtick: Destruction. Everything from petty arson to utter annihilation was my game. I once literally just swung a wrecking ball into pretty high-rise the Reapers kept as a 'corporate headquarters'. Hit the right spot and the whole thing came tumbling down like dominoes. Delicious. This hit wasn't near the masterpiece that one was but I got my mark, caused some mayhem, and left with some swag to the beautiful sounds of screams, so I was happy.
"Then that deserves a drink!" Nnoitra drawled, "TESRA!"
"Dude!" I couldn't help but growl at him. "That was my fucking ear!"
"Aww, panther sad?" Nnoitra mocked in the face of my glare. He didn't back down from it though. I knew he wouldn't. For all his bluster, he wasn't just a blow-hard and we both knew it.
I raised my eyebrow, trying to read the glint in his good eye. Nnoitra was a crazy bastard at the best of times. Add some drink and our fight would tear this place down. Not that I'd mind…
"Naw, I just don't need you to get your fuckboy to grab me a drink when I still gotta put this case up," I drawled right back, a dare in my eye, "I don't think Aizen would like for me to keep 250,000 reasons to attack the Hollows out in the open, would you?"
With a low whistle, Nnoitra decided to let the insult slide. "Nice haul," he admitted, seriousness in his voice now that I brought up our not-so-beloved leader, "Better put it in the floor safe,"
I dipped my chin in acknowledgement but paused before I went back. Another sigh as I tipped my head back to the ceiling, but I knew that leaving Nnoitra in a bad mood was bad for business. We needed to keep these pigs of customers if we wanted to get this money cleaned, not kill them for some unknown offense.
"Back booth and Jack Daniels Number 2," I told him before turning away and heading to the back office to stow the cash. I didn't even make it back there before I heard him go happy drunk again and started yelling about free drinks and the party being back on.
I rolled my eyes as I shut myself in the back office and rolled them again as I looked around at Nnoitra's choice of décor. Posters of half-naked women posed around cars, random ass antiques- always in gold- and god-awful red brocade wallpaper. No wonder the name for this place was so bad if this office showed Nnoitra's taste. Were there not enough women in next to no clothing walking around here for him?
Making my way to the weight bench in the corner, I kicked it to the side out of the way to access the floor safe. It was probably the only stroke of intelligence Nnoitra had shown in putting this place together. Few people could lift the weights off the bench, much less move the bench itself. Of course, that stroke of brilliance was immediately cancelled out by the fact that he had a picture of our 3rd seat Espada on a dart board and full of holes. The only woman in our ranks. He was as stupid as he was predictable. Nnoitra was stronger than he looked, I'd give him that, but we both knew that was a fight he would lose. Which just made him hate her more.
Taking a step next to where the bench used to stand, I grimaced as the carpet seemed to crunch underfoot. Thank all that was holy I kicked the weight bench because I sure as shit didn't want to know what had happened on it and with who to make the carpet… crunchy. So, I kicked the carpet off from on top of the floor safe, too. I'm not a germaphobe but this place epitomized disgusting, just like my partner who ran it. This was clearly a kill-it-with-fire situation.
I didn't even kneel down on the ground as I punched in the combination on the safe and thanked god this one simply had an additional keyhole as a safeguard and wasn't biometric. Dropping the case straight in, I kicked the floor safe closed, kicked the carpet back down and kicked the weight bench back in position, making a mental not to burn these boots.
At least it was quieter and darker in here, and I found myself bracing for the onslaught again. I just had to show face and drink away the next few hours before I could claim some more freedom.
Prying myself from the relative silence of the office, I made my way back down the hall to the main club and looked around the room again. Something was different. It felt different. I had always caught hell from some of the other Espada for relying on my gut like this, especially Nnoitra and Ulquiorra. Use logic, Ulquiorra would say. Who cares about gut threats when you just have to be strong enough to beat it? Brute strength was Nnoitra's general response to everything.
Speak of the devil, here he was sweeping up a-fucking-gain with the arm over my shoulder before I could blink. "No back booth today!" Nnoitra slurred. How did he get even more drunk in less than- what?- Three minutes?
"Venus is dancing soon," he told me, leading me to the VIP section. It was roped off and, luckily, a little less packed than the rest of the club. Raised on a dais for the best view of the main stage, this area was normally reserved for high rollers and those willing to pay much more to get that view. It was also normally empty. I mean, shit, this wasn't exactly a VIP kinda club, but up we climbed through more people than I think I had ever seen in this place.
"Why the fuck is it so crowded?" I asked as yet another person's shoulder jostled me.
I got no answer and looked over to see Nnoitra had turned his glare on a couple men sharing a front row table that he had apparently deemed 'our seats'. Apparently having one eye didn't take any power from his glare as having blue tattoos around my eyes didn't diminish my own, and the men fell over each other in an effort to get out of his way.
"Have a seat, my man!"
Still not his man.
"DRINKS!" he yelled out and immediately a waitress seemed to appear, presenting my whiskey and a glass and something so purple it was almost black in a tall glass for him. Oddly fitting.
I cast an affected glance over the waitress as she made a show of pouring my whiskey like some fancy two fingers of scotch. Her long blond hair curled into ringlets and a shapely body had curves in all the right places. She wore nothing but a Y-string thong covered in rhinestones. Topless waitresses were a perk of the VIP area, and by all accounts, this luscious woman with perky fake tits should have had me panting, but I waved her off and met her wink with a glare. Her perfectly pink lips pouted as she turned, but I grabbed the full bottle of whiskey off the tray before she could go and didn't bother to look at her again. I was going to need more than a splash to get me through a long evening in here.
It's not that I had anything against the strippers. Hell, I'd indulged damn near every willing one of them when we'd first opened. But then D-Roy went on a spree and barebacked the wrong bitch. There weren't enough pages on that doc's clipboard to list the STD's that dumbass got. Suddenly, a condom just didn't seem like enough and I stopped that shit. Playboy Barbie over there was not special enough to change that decision.
Nnoitra didn't seem to care, dragging his fingers up Barbie's thigh as she held his drink for him to take a sip and bit her lip at his smile. "So why is it this packed on a Tuesday, again?" I asked him, annoyed with the stinking crowds. It was bad enough to suffer through this place when it was empty.
"You've been gone for a while, Grimm. Some clubs have happy hours and ladies nights," he said still smiling at Barbie before turning a raised eyebrow at me, "We have Venus."
It was only a millisecond, but something akin to jealousy and damn near close to anger flashed across Barbie's plastic features. Color me intrigued.
"You got 8 fucking dancers on the ballot, Nnoitra," I pointed at the sign next to the stage, which I couldn't help but notice had no "Venus" listed, "What's so special about this one?"
"What's not?" he coughed a laugh, relieving Barbie of his drink and waving her off without noticing her sneer grow, "She's a fucking waitress that started a couple months ago and she only dances twice a week for a 3 song set of her choice."
"You let a waitress dictate how she works for you?" I was poking the bear but it was fun. I raised an eyebrow at his narrowing eye as I drained my little glass and switched to take a long swig straight from the bottle.
"Bitches don't tell me shit," Nnoitra snarled at me and I swear to god I almost snarfed my whiskey. That would have sucked. He made it too easy.
"I make the damn rules and I decided-"
I cut Nnoitra off with a sideways smile and raised hand of supplication and he cracked into a matching grin. "Smart ass."
I shrugged in silent agreement but kept up my questioning gaze. I still wanted my answer.
"She was a waitress for a few weeks and was always pestered to dance just like they all are," he drawled, watching below us like a disinterested king. "Then she came to me with a proposal."
He took another swig and I nodded in understanding.
"Limited supply and high demand," he drawled, "She wanted stage money but didn't want to be on stage. I wanted a limited time attraction to drum up business on slow days. So, she only does one set, two days a week and the sheep follow like lambs to the slaughter."
Licking his lips, Nnoitra's voice turned vicious, and I could see the drink and women hadn't dulled those killer senses yet. But then he covered it with a wide smile and his one eye lit up with perverse joy. "Even I didn't expect how damn good she'd be, if not for the moody ass music."
"So, where is she?" I asked curiously, nodding at the milling crowd, "You'd think they'd be following her like puppies."
"She is surprisingly good at covering her tracks." His voice was puzzled and I could feel my spidey sense tingling. Before I could think about it too hard, Nnoitra stood and vaulted the bar blocking the VIP area from the floor despite the fact that I knew at this point he had probably drunk enough to kill a frat house.
I watched with analytical detachment as he bent over to speak to the one girl with probably the most clothing on in the whole place. Not that the short black catsuit didn't look like it was poured on over ripped fishnet tights, leaving little of her curves to the imagination. Neon green space buns- looking messy in that perfectly windblown way- bobbed exuberantly as she apparently answered emphatically, and I could see Nnoitra frown. His fierce glare seemed to only earn him her middle finger in the face and I didn't bother to fight my laugh as she stalked off through the crowd to the back hallway.
"Who was that pretty little ex-employee?" I taunted him as he leapt over the rail and back to his seat.
He was pouting. I only laughed harder as his glare grew sharper.
"Oh, come on," I hit his shoulder taking another a swig and savoring the burn as it went down.
I looked back in time to see Nnoitra putting a small cartridge of white powder back in his pocket before bending down to the table and inhaling hard. Ah. That's how he wasn't drunk. The coke did the trick though as he sat back up with a smile.
"You gonna fire the sassy one?" I almost sounded disappointed. "Too bad," I told him with a grin and pantomimed the handles of my bike and thrust my hips with a lewd wink, "I liked the buns."
Nnoitra snorted a laugh, his good mood now firmly locked in place for a minute, and he rolled his eyes. "Can't fire that one," he told me as he took another long swig, killing his drink. He waived it in the air so Barbie would know he needed a refill. "That's Venus."
This time I swear the fucking Jack really did come out of my nose. I wasn't sure whether I should laugh or cringe. Goddamn gut feelings.