CHAPTER 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...
Oh my gosh, the guesses had me dying from laughter! Too good.
Onwards...
XOXOXO
It was eleven o'clock at night by the time Ichigo turned off the highway and pulled into the small town of Teterboro, New Jersey. Where he was headed was a private jet airstrip, where he and the rest of his team owned a small airplane hangar. Of course, they used fake names for the paper trail left behind, which was P's specialty in keeping covered flawlessly, being the computer genius he was. Someone would have to dig very deeply and thoroughly to find that the business they owned didn't really exist. There was a little traffic at the airstrip, but nothing out of the ordinary. Not that it would matter, considering their hangar was on the outskirts of it. They never had to worry about drawing too much attention to themselves, which was a relief.
Ichigo took the back way to the large silver airplane hangar, almost ecstatic to find the huge door already open. He roared inside and pulled to a stop off to the side of a fire engine red, Porsche 911 GT2 RS. Once he cut the engine and hopped out, he rounded the hood of his car and smirked when he spotted the unmistakable silver outline of a single bullet hole towards the bottom of the driver's door. A thin, pink-haired man leaning against the hood of the Porsche and twirling a set of keys, pushed away from the fine vehicle and strode stiffly towards him. The man wore a white, short-sleeved dress shirt, a black tie and black slacks. Mustard-hued eyes flamed and sparked with anger.
"Look!" he spat, silver, rectangular-framed glasses trembling on the end of his nose. "Look what they did to my darling!"
Ichigo chuckled and held his hand forward. "Sorry to see that, P."
"Heh! Assholes."
The pink-haired man stepped forward, clasped Ichigo's hand and drew him into a one-armed hug. When he was released, P took a step back and gave him a once-over.
"What happened to your arm?" he asked.
"Well, they kind of caught me off guard, too," Ichigo muttered, glancing down at the tattered strip of cloth wrapped around his upper arm.
"What uniform is this? Are you what I'm thinking you are?"
P's voice was incredulous and a thin, pink brow was arched as he went back to leaning against the hood of his car.
"Well, I guess that depends. What are you thinking?"
"You, dearest O, are a postman, aren't you?"
Ichigo shrugged and averted his eyes, more concerned with his arm. Anything to get from under P's piercing gaze. "It's a job," he muttered. "Kept me outta trouble, didn't it?"
"For the most part. Why are you nearly naked? Is that your shirt you used to dress your wound?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"Tu's going to molest you. You do realize this, yes?"
He face-palmed. He'd almost forgotten about Tu and her obsession over him. For what reason, he had no clue, especially with guys like Grenade and B around. Hell, even G and P were sexy in their own rights. Ichigo uncovered his face and made a slow circle as he looked the old headquarters over. Nothing had changed. The space was still cavernous, still anonymous and still quite useful.
"Hey, P. Where's every-"
His question was cut off by the loud roar of an engine. Bright headlights preceded a silver Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren. The sexy road machine pulled to a stop beside P's Porsche before the engine died down and the driver's door raised into the air. A tall, slender form, wearing a short-sleeved, gray and white striped Henley shirt and gray cargo shorts stepped out of the car and sauntered towards them. He had flip-flops on his feet and both hands tucked into his pockets.
"Mah, mah!" he greeted with a wide, toothless grin, silver fringe of hair nearly covering his right, crystal blue eye. "Somebody oughta teach those guys some manners, eh?"
Ichigo grinned broadly. As far as humor went, G had always been a barrel of laughs...and then some. He also had hair-trigger reflexes and favored all things sharp. Mostly knives, though. G approached them and wrapped thin arms across both their shoulders.
"Hey, G," Ichigo greeted.
G's eyes slanted closed, forming happy little arcs. "Haha! O, you tryna prove a point, my friend?"
"Eh?" Ichigo noised, confused. G reached over and pinched Ichigo's left nipple, making him squeak and slap the man's hand away. "P-pervert!"
"Well, yer flashin' everybody wit' that sexy body-"
"Shut up, dumbass! I can't believe you did that," Ichigo mumbled, rubbing his abused nipple as he stepped away from the silver-haired man.
P cleared his throat and took a step away from G as well. "I see you made it in one piece," he offered.
G leaned against the side of P's car, drawing a small frown from the pink-haired man. He took his time reaching into his back pocket and retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once he lit up, inhaled deeply, then exhaled in the same fashion, those frosty eyes slit open.
"Those bastards killed my cat."
"Hn," P grunted.
Ichigo shook his head. P had never been a lover of felines, but Ichigo liked them. Especially when they were kittens and really small and cute.
"That's fucked up," he muttered.
G blew out another cloud of smoke before shrugging narrow shoulders. "I got em back, though."
Silence reigned after that pointed statement, so Ichigo had time to observe two of his old teammates. They were still exactly the same. Nothing about them had changed at all, but then again, that was expected. It had only been three years since the last time they'd seen each other.
"Ahh-ah," G sighed, killing the brief silence. "I wanted to be the last one ta get here. Now my dramatic entrance is all ruined. Where the hell is everybody else?"
Ichigo shrugged and leaned against the side of his own car. "No clue. They should be coming soon, though."
P adjusted his glasses. "There's someone else."
All heads swiveled towards the huge entrance, watching as another set of headlights sped closer and closer. Next, came the deafening roar of an engine. After that, sunshine yellow assaulted the trio's vision as a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta pulled into view.
"Ah!" G exclaimed. "And Grenade arrives with a bang!"
The Ferrari shut down and the driver's door swung open slowly before spilling a tall, tanned brunet with sleepy gray eyes and wearing a white tee and a pair of South Park pajama pants onto the ground. Ichigo frowned as he watched the man gradually sit up, holding the back of his head.
"Ouch," he grunted, voice like rolling thunder.
"Christ," P mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.
G cracked up and moved to help the man to his feet. Once Grenade was standing, albeit swaying a bit, the silver-haired man leaned close and peered into those gray eyes. Grenade arched a brow, making G step back, toothless grin wider than ever.
"Mhmm," G giggled before turning to face Ichigo and P. "He's high as the moon."
"So it would seem," P snapped. "How the hell did you make it here alive in that condition?"
Grenade gave a lazy, lop-sided grin that almost made Ichigo's heart stop. Good grief, the man was sexy. "Talent?"
"More like an amazing amount of luck, you imbecile!"
"You changed cars?" Ichigo asked, deciding to enter the conversation.
"Mm? Oh yeah. I upgraded about a year ago. It pays making things go 'boom'," the brunet explained, hand gestures and all.
Ichigo chuckled, always entertained by Grenade's Southern drawl, not to mention incredibly lazy antics. However, the man was a genius when it came to explosives and guns. There was nothing he didn't know about them, and nothing he couldn't make explode like a firework. It was strangely what he lived for. That and Mary Jane, of course.
Grenade ambled to the front of his car and climbed onto the hood, where he proceeded to drape himself across it on his back. "I'm hungry," he stated.
"Me too," Ichigo and G put in at the same time.
Ichigo's stomach had been grumbling the entire trip there and it was time to pay the piper. He needed something to fill his protesting belly, or the team would be miserable due to his resulting attitude.
"Chinese sounds really good right about now," Grenade continued. "And a family size bag of ranch Doritos. And Dr. Pepper. Lots of Dr. Pepper."
"Chinese we can do, but unless you plan to run to the store, I don't know where your munchies snacks are going to come from," P griped as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a cell.
"Tch, so troublesome," the brunet muttered.
P turned his back after dialing a number and pressing the phone to his ear. Ichigo, on the other hand, focused on the new set of headlights coming in their direction. He was getting anxious, now. In fact, he'd been anxious ever since he'd arrived, wondering when B would show up. Now, there were only two people left to make an appearance since Blondie had become a casualty. He still couldn't believe that one. Tactics had been his and Blondie's specialties, so for the other man to have been completely caught off guard, something had to have been way wrong.
The headlights blinked as another engine roared and another mechanical beauty swung to a stop. Lime green and absolutely beast, a Lamborghini Murcielago shown brightly under the fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling of the hangar. The driver's door went into the air and out stepped a bombshell of a woman with long, wavy, sea-green hair and wheat-gray eyes. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she wore a short, beige, silk robe. She stormed from the vehicle, full lips pursed in a tight pout and wide eyes full of piss and vinegar.
"What the hell!" she screeched, making Grenade wince and cover his ears. "A girl can't even take a frickin' bath in peace these days?"
Ichigo grinned. Tu had never been one to hold her tongue. No one would ever guess that she was a genius medic, either. She huffed and glanced at Grenade draped over the hood of his car before rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
"Really, Grenade? I was expecting the Volkswagon van and a tie-dye t-shirt. Maybe a bandana," she teased.
The brunet uncovered his ears and rolled his head in her direction. "You say somethin'?"
"You heard me, you asshole. Anyway-"
Tu rolled her eyes, but that made them land on Ichigo and widen drastically. Crap, he instantly thought, body already going into flight mode. However, Tu was amazingly fast. She was on him before he could blink, his back thrown against the hood of his car as the curvy woman wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him like a python. The abrupt movement jarred his arm and sent needles shooting through the wound, making him grind his teeth as he simultaneously tried to breathe.
"Tu, you're killin' me," he choked.
"My darling, darling O!" she yelped into his neck, still not loosening her hold. "I missed you so much!"
Ichigo patted her back carefully, still choking. "Th-that's nice, Tu."
Finally, she pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Didn't you miss me?"
"Er...well..."
"Ooo! I see. We can get rid of the others and you can have your way with me," she whispered.
"Wha? Tu, what the hell?"
"Well, that's why you were waiting for me with your shirt off, right?"
"Woman," he growled through clenched teeth. "Get the hell off me before I break your fingers."
"Ah! O, that's harsh!" she pouted, but reluctantly climbed off of him.
Ichigo sat up, rubbing his neck and chest as he took deep breaths. He didn't understand Tu. She was a gorgeous woman with more curves than the word "Mississippi", and could definitely have any man she laid eyes on. Why she was so taken with him, baffled the mind.
G lit up another cigarette, mouth still pulled into his signature grin. "Good ole Tu," he said quietly on the exhale.
The green-haired woman looked in his direction and arched a brow. The eye contact there was rather intense and made Ichigo ping-pong his own gaze back and forth between them, curious as a cat. But the spell was broken when P reentered the fray, hands in his pockets and eyes narrowed at Tu.
"Must you always cause a ruckus, woman?" he asked.
She rolled those large eyes again before dismissing P with a flip of her dainty hand. "Still a stick in the ass, I see."
"Still a loud-mouthed bitch, I see," the pink-haired man fired right back.
"Better believe it, Pinky," Tu muttered as she went over to her car and leaned against the door. "So, who's missing?" she asked, glancing around.
Ichigo's stomach instantly flipped as he thought about their blue-haired teammate that was still MIA. The guy should have shown up already. Ichigo hoped nothing had happened, especially nothing on the level of Blondie's incident. That would be too much. He didn't think he would be able to keep it together in front of everyone else. Even though he knew what they had been involved with before was extremely dangerous, B had always appeared so bulletproof. So untouchable. Imagining the man dead was right up there with pigs flying.
No one bothered to answer Tu's rhetorical question; instead the silence pressed in around them like underwater pressure. It was obvious everyone's thoughts were on the impossible to tame B. His thick Brooklyn, New York accent was normally quiet until he got pissed, which in the grand scheme of things, didn't take long to happen. His temper was infamous as well as his destructive nature. Although he was efficient with a gun and any other weapon, the blue-haired man preferred hand to hand combat. His techniques were insurmountable, but he was a brawler at heart. A straight-up street fighter, whose only rule was a fair fight. Other than that, the man's personality was unapologetic and so blatantly I-don't-give-a-fuck, it made Ichigo laugh. It was part of what attracted him to B in the first place. That and the guy's absurdly good looks. He shook his head. God, he hoped nothing had happened to the man.
Before he knew it, an hour had drifted by. Everyone lounged against their cars, apparently preoccupied with their own thoughts, when another set of headlights came into view. The car moved considerably slower than the others had, which made Ichigo straighten his back in apprehension. He absently rubbed at his arm as they all watched the vehicle approach. There was no roaring engine, no appearance of a sleek paint job. In fact, the car puttered into the entrance of the hangar and idled before the driver's door opened. A short, dark-haired man slid into sight, hand going to the back of his head.
"Ahh, Chinese food?" he called uncertainly.
Everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of exasperation. Ichigo didn't know about everyone else, but he'd been prepared for bad news. Or worse, a poorly executed ambush. P stepped forward and beckoned the man over with a wave of his hand as the other dug in his pocket.
"Yeah, that's us."
The man ducked back into the car before coming up with three large bags. He hurried over, eyes darting at everyone present, then handed the bags to P.
"Forty-one dollars."
Eyebrows shooting beneath his pink fringe, P handed the money over. "I take it everything is here, yes?"
The man nodded, counted the money, tucked it away in his shorts pockets, then hustled away. He kept glancing nervously over his shoulder like he expected one of them to attack him. Ichigo supposed they were an odd bunch, especially with him being shirtless and still sporting blood trails down his arm. Not to mention Tu with her bathrobe and Grenade with his pajamas.
Just as the delivery man got to his vehicle, headlights abruptly swung into view, the sound of tires skidding noisily echoing in the silence. There was the roaring engine Ichigo had been expecting before. His heart automatically began racing uncontrollably, making him subtly rub the spot over it. A powder-blue BMW G-Power Hurricane CS screeched to a halt behind Tu's Lamborghini. The door was thrown open and Ichigo gave a helpless chuckle. B climbed out of the car, wearing nothing but a pair of gray and black striped knit boxers, lit cigarette clinging to the corner of his mouth. There was a cut over his left eyebrow that caused a trail of blood to creep down the side of his face, but that wasn't the best part. B stormed from the vehicle, an all black, sawed off shot gun held over his right shoulder. He was barefoot, his bright blue hair was wild as a tornado and those cornflower-blue eyes were just as chaotic. He had a couple new tattoos on his forearms, but that was about all that had changed. He was still tall, still cut like a statue and...
"So, I'm in the fuckin' bed, right? When this airhead comes crashin' through my goddamned window! Moron, ya know? Like I don't sleep with my bitch under my pillow or somethin'," he stated, accent ringing through the hangar as he lifted the shot gun to emphasize his point. "Rude jerk-offs," he grumbled as he stalked over.
Still utterly B.
"Uh," P sputtered, speechless for a change.
G cracked up, Tu rolled her eyes dramatically and even Grenade found the energy to form a grin. B paused his ranting to pointedly sniff the air.
"I smell food," he grunted, deep voice lowering.
P finally found his voice and nodded. "Yeah, we ordered Chinese. You came just in time to eat. What the hell took you so long, anyway? Weren't you in New York?"
B lowered the shot gun to the hood of Ichigo's car and shrugged. "I stopped for some beer."
"Christ," P muttered.
"Mah-haha! Good ole B," G commented.
B smirked, then turned his attention to the brunet draped across the Ferrari. "Yo!"
Grenade raised a hand in a two-fingered salute before laying back and closing his eyes.
"You're still a barbarian, B," Tu admonished.
"So?"
She chuckled and blew him a kiss before ambling over to P, who was still holding the bags of food. That's when B turned those burning blue eyes in Ichigo's direction. Whenever B looked at him, it was like the guy was always deep in thought.
"Yo, O."
Jesus.
Ichigo swallowed and nodded his head in greeting. He was really focusing on not letting his eyes lower to the man's exposed chest and abdomen and legs and...Lord, his package was right there.
"'Sup."
B leaned against the Audi and crossed his arms over his chest. He calmly smoked the rest of the cigarette at his lips as he stared off into space. Why was he next to Ichigo, though? The blue-haired man wasn't the most sociable creature on the planet, after all.
"So, uh," Ichigo started, making the man turn those eyes on him again. "You're pretty much naked, huh?"
B arched an eyebrow and grinned, flashing those dangerous-looking canines. "Like you can talk. Your shorts are just a little longer than mine, right?" Ichigo went to respond, but was cut off. "Hey, wait. O, you're a mail guy?"
"Unngh," Ichigo groaned, covering his face with his hands. "So what? It was a job."
"Ha! You carried a purse for a livin'."
"Fuck you! It was a mail bag, stupid!"
"Annnd there they go," G interrupted. "You guys wanna eat, or no? 'Cuz ya know Grenade'll go through all a'this."
Ichigo sent B an evil glare before stepping past him and heading for the heavenly smell of food. Inwardly, however, he was dancing like a toddler. He was just glad to see the other man alive and kicking, so it didn't matter if the man picked a fight with him the moment he got there.
The food was passed around and everyone hungrily dug in. Ichigo couldn't keep his eyes off of B. The man still leaned against his car, mind you, face buried in a carton of lo mein. The orange-haired man grinned to himself as he stabbed a piece of sesame chicken with a plastic fork. He shoveled in a few more pieces and glanced in the blue-haired man's direction again, this time freezing like a deer when he caught the man's razor sharp gaze. B frowned a little before digging into his food again, but Ichigo was in the middle of a meltdown. What was that? Why was B paying him so much attention now? Three years ago – and even before then – B had always lived in his own world, only surfacing to briefly discuss tactics and whatnot. He always looked at people like he had something on his mind, but that was just his normal expression.
Ichigo chewed slowly and calmed his panicking heart. Maybe the blue-haired man had something to say? Nah, that wasn't it. B never held his tongue...like ever. Whatever was on his mind was made known. What the fuck could it be, then?
Finally, G set his carton of food to the side and wiped his mouth. "So, does anyone know why the fuck we were burned like this?" he asked.
Grenade stopped chewing, P sighed and Tu nodded in agreement. B kept eating without even raising his head.
"I got an idea," Ichigo offered, words languid.
"Well?" Tu chirped.
"Everyone remembers Japan, right?" The room went silent. The rhetorical question was enough to get B to lift his head and stare him down, frown tugging at his severe blue brows. "Well, that wasn't just a mission gone wrong. We were thoroughly set up."
G's eyes slit open and it seemed like the temperature in the hangar dropped ten degrees. "Come again?"
"Yeah, O. I don't think I understood that too good," B added, food now completely forgotten.
Ichigo cleared his throat and set his food to the side as well. "I take it he didn't contact you guys."
Tu huffed. "O? Doll? You know I love you to bits and pieces, but if you don't fucking spill right now, I'm gonna cut out your liver and serve it to you."
No one protested her statement and all eyes were riveted to his face, so he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Before I was ambushed, I was contacted by an old acquaintance of ours. One, Tsukishima Shukuro. The whole Japan operation was a gimmick. We were sent there to basically stir up trouble and die in the process."
The carton of food in B's hand was crushed, lo mein noodles sliding over his fist and hitting the floor. His upper lip was curled back in a fierce snarl and his eyes were frigid as the arctic.
"That asshole," he growled.
"Mah," G said quietly.
P gave a haughty grunt, while Tu and Grenade remained silent. The news was huge. They had all been under the impression that the Japan mission had turned into a fiasco by an unknown informant. They'd had no clue that one of their own had set them up to die. Ichigo frowned and stared down at the cement floor of the hangar.
"I say we kill 'im," G said lightly. "Him and all his little buddies that helped him 'cuz ya know he ain't do that shit on his own. He had help from higher up."
"True," Grenade finally said.
"Yes, but the only problem with that, lies with our lack of connections. We're no longer special ops of the CIA; we can't just barge into the agency, guns blazing," P said, always the voice of reason.
"Not to mention, we're supposed to be dead anyway," Tu muttered.
"There are ways," Ichigo said with a slick smirk.
Tactics and behavioral science were his specialties, after all.
G gave that toothless grin again, eyes sliding shut. "Ya know I love when ya get that look in your eye, O."
"Me too," Tu added with a wink in Ichigo's direction.
He rolled his eyes, mind whirring and adrenaline rushing, then rubbed his hands together, excited and already making plans to get inside their old headquarters. He glanced over at B, who was watching him with an animal-like glint in his eyes.
"We gotta get that bastard, O," he commented.
"Oh yeah," Ichigo agreed. "Definitely."
Woo-hoo! Next time!
