CHAPTER 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach...

-sigh- So after some studying and a few Youtube videos on the lovely game of chess, I've come to the conclusion that I don't understand that shit. Therefore, I'm going to gloss over this a bit. I apologize to those that were expecting an in-depth, possibly step-by-step game. My brain hurts just thinking about it. -humbly bows and asks for forgiveness-

Onwards...

"The moment of betrayal is the worst, the moment

when you know beyond any doubt that you've been

betrayed: that some other human being has wished you that

much evil."

-Margaret Atwood-

XOXOXO

"Checkmate."

Ishida stared down at the chess board with a slack face, while Ichigo just grinned. He'd known from Ishida's first movement that the game would be a piece of cake. The dark-haired computer geek had attacked straight out of the gates, navy-blue eyes smug and completely arrogant. It was a good thing Ichigo's poker face was impenetrable. He'd wanted to laugh so fucking bad, his skin had been nearly crawling off his flesh with the effort not to.

"You cheated. There is no possible way I didn't see this coming," Ishida snapped.

"Somebody's a sore loser," Grenade drawled from his spot on the floor.

G cackled and rubbed the tip of his nose. "Ah-hah, mah. O's jus' good like that."

P remained silent, but the look on his face spoke clearly of how he felt on the subject. His mustard-colored eyes were hard and glittering with anger, yet somehow twinkling with a small amount of amusement as well. It was an interesting combination, that was for sure. Ichigo peered at B from the corner of his eye. He was still inwardly having a heart attack from what had occurred not even an hour before. B's big hands all over him, the heat from the man's muscular body pressed against his side and back, the way B had buried his face in Ichigo's hair – it had left Ichigo's knees weak. He'd wanted to just turn into the man's light embrace and take advantage of everything B had been pretending to offer. That thought alone had killed the mood, however. When Ichigo had realized that B was only getting cozy with him to piss off Ishida, it'd served to douse his wayward libido with ice cold water.

B was still straddling an office chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and thick arms braced along the back of the seat. His blue eyes were dancing with relief and joy. Had Ichigo not been so internally depressed about the man's motives, he would have found the sight incredibly endearing. Not to mention funny as hell. He decided to stick with the humorous aspect as he turned to his blue-haired teammate with a smarmy grin. He knew B would understand the look all too well.

Sure enough, the happy smirk B wore, along with the enraptured glint in his eyes quickly faded, morphing into a childish pout. However, Ichigo's grin turned into a full-on, toothy smile. With that, he turned to P and inclined his head as if inquiring about the next step. The pink-haired man had his arms folded tightly across his chest, his lips pursed into a tiny knot.

"Ah, Ishida. I hate to interrupt, but I really do require your assistance," P tentatively put forth.

Ishida continued staring at the chess board, brows furrowed and eyes belying the confusion he really felt. Then, he looked up at Ichigo and glared.

"I won't accept this. I demand a rematch," he clipped.

Before Ichigo could even respond, a loud, deep voice broke the relative silence. "Oh, come on! What the fuck ya mean? Ya lost!"

B was furious. He was on his feet, shooting eye bullets down at the still seated Ishida. Ishida turned to him rather calmly and used a long index finger to push his glasses up his straight nose. Somehow, in a way that defied all logic, the dark-haired man's eyes turned soft and almost affectionate. Ichigo wanted to fall out of his seat and roll around on the floor, laughing his stomach into spasms. It was too priceless.

"Agent B, what kind of man would I be if I didn't fight for my honor as well as yours?"

B's mouth opened and closed a few times before he stalked away from the scene, hand plowing through his wild blue hair. "I can't believe this shit's happ'nin'," Ichigo heard him mutter from across the room.

Ichigo wanted to feel bad for the man, but with the roundabout way B had enlisted his help in fending off the dark-haired computer geek, Ichigo couldn't feel anything more than annoyance. He'd keep the disappointment part to himself.

P adjusted his own glasses and peered down at Ishida. "I understand your plight, Ishida. I do. However, time is against us at the moment. Perhaps you can save the rematch for another day?"

Ishida gave a long-suffering sigh as he stood and straightened his clothing. "I suppose you're right."

Ichigo didn't miss the gleeful way B's head whipped in their direction. Simple idiot. Ichigo climbed to his feet as well, but made his way to the door. G's mischievous voice stopped him in his tracks as soon as he reached for the button that would grant him his freedom.

"Hey, O, where ya goin'?"

"Back to the bus. 'M tired."

G's pale-blue eyes slitted open as he tilted his head to the side and carefully considered him. Luckily, he didn't say anything. Ichigo glanced around the room at his other teammates before mashing the button for the door and sweeping over the threshold. He planned to ignore the curiosity written all over Tu's heart-shaped face, the narrow-eyed skepticism on P's, and the amusement on Grenade's and G's. As he made tracks for the bus, Ichigo shook his head.

He definitely planned to ignore the thoughtful frown on B's face. It wasn't worth the headache trying to decipher.

XOXOXO

Byakuya blinked into the semi-darkness of his bedroom, frowning and wondering what had awakened him so abruptly. Then, he registered the obnoxious buzzing of his alarm clock. He reached an arm over the side of the bed and slapped the black box silent, still groggy. He'd spent the whole of last night going over the file Tsukishima had given him. Although the reports and documents seemed airtight, there were still a couple of things that were bothering him. For one thing, there were no real specifics about Agent Blondie's death. The file only stated he'd been found in his home in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania, face-down in the pool in his backyard. But where was the proof? There was only that one written report, no pictures, nothing. It was confusing.

Then there was the case of the team he was after in the first place. After rumors had flown around about their supposed deaths, they had somehow resurfaced, clearly not so dead after all. Byakuya sat up, swung his legs over the side of his king-sized bed and ran a hand through his long, tangled, black hair. After sighing, he stood and straightened the covers on the bed – a habit he'd acquired as a kid. He moved to the adjoining bathroom and started the shower first, then brushed his teeth. He was forcing himself awake for the meeting at headquarters in a few hours. He couldn't say he was looking forward to working with a team that he knew nothing of, but he didn't have a choice, either.

Well...he would do his job as long as it went along with his code.

The shower was refreshing and did its job of completely dispersing the sleep-webs. Byakuya quickly dressed in a black suit with a matching black tie and headed down to the kitchen, where he prepared a light breakfast of toasted English muffins and cinnamon flavored oatmeal. After two cups of coffee, he felt like he was ready to face anything Tsukishima planned to throw in his direction. Just as he went to leave through the back door, the house phone began ringing insistently. He frowned as he rounded the island in the middle of the room and snatched the cordless phone from its cradle.

"Kuchiki," he greeted.

"Hey, big brother! How's the government life treating you?"

Byakuya's tense shoulders relaxed as he leaned a hip against the frame of the door leading into the hall. A ghost of a grin appeared on his face. "Rukia, isn't it too early for you?"

He could hear the smile in his younger sister's voice when she said, "Of course, but I figured this is the only way I'd hear from you."

"Is something wrong?"

"Jeez! Why does something have to be wrong for me to call my only big brother?"

Byakuya smiled softly. "Just asking. As much as I'd like to catch up with you right now, I have to be at the office soon."

Rukia gave a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, yeah. I was just calling to remind you that me and Kaien are coming to visit this weekend."

Byakuya's heart lurched. Now wasn't really a good time to have his only family around. He'd made sure to keep her out of harm's way thus far, and he sure as hell didn't mean to break that tradition. This new assignment he'd accepted would be a lot of trouble. He was facing numerous ex-agents that were professionals in the art of cornering and killing people; there was no way he would get Rukia involved.

"Ah, Rukia, now isn't a good time."

"Byakuya!" she snapped, voice obviously exasperated. "You always say that! When is a good time?"

"I won't know until this assignment is complete. Please, don't-"

"I know, I know. It's your job." Rukia sighed again. "Maybe if you called every now and then, I wouldn't worry about you so much."

And now he felt guilty. "I'll do better," he amended as he glanced at the watch on his left wrist. "I have to go."

"Alright. I'll talk to you later," she said, the depression already settling into her voice. "Love you."

"Mm, same here. We'll talk later."

He ended the connection and set the phone back in its cradle. As if his morning wasn't already ominous, now he had to tack on a case of guilt along with it. His little sister, Rukia, had been telling him she wanted to visit for more than a month now, but what could he do? His job wasn't always the safest, and he didn't want her to suffer because of it. He knew there were people that would use her against him – frankly, he was surprised no one had dug that deep yet. Not that he was complaining. He just didn't want to risk it, and like he'd told himself earlier – this new assignment was the most dangerous one he'd undertaken in his entire career. What sense did it make involving her, when he could just keep her at a distance, safe and out of harm's way?

Byakuya went back to the opposite side of the room and entered the garage, where he locked up behind himself, then slid into his black, Chevy Tahoe. As he started the engine, his thoughts went back to the upcoming meeting with the team Tsukishima wanted him to work with. A lot wasn't adding up, but until he had proof of any shady business, he would do his job like a good agent was supposed to.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stared at the TV on the lower level of the bus, unseeing and distracted. He still had O's scent in his head, could still feel the orange-haired man's toned abdomen and slim hips beneath his fingers. What was he going to do about this? The team had successfully acquired the equipment they'd needed from Señor Feel You Up and were now on the way to Langley. P and O had spent the last couple hours cooking up a plan to get inside headquarters in order to have a heart to heart with Tsukishima, but in the end, O had nixed it all in favor of just scouting the place. He figured checking out the situation was better than going in, all guns and blazing saddles. Grimmjow didn't think so, but hell, he'd always had a love/hate relationship with being subtle.

Suddenly, Grenade's hysterical laughter erupted from the couch across from Grimmjow. He looked at the brunet, one eyebrow raised in question. He knew Grenade's theme song was Rick James' "Mary Jane," but that still didn't explain the alarming case of the giggles the man had out of nowhere. Grenade had commandeered P's laptop and had it resting over his knees as he cracked up at the screen. Curiosity always killed the cat. Grimmjow found himself standing and ambling over to his teammate. He stopped next to Grenade and peered over the man's shoulder. What he saw twisted his face into a mask of confusion.

"Grenade, what the fuck ya watchin'?" he asked.

Grenade had tears in his smoky gray eyes as he looked up at Grimmjow, lazy grin showing teeth and everything. Grimmjow had never seen the man laugh that hard. Well, no. There had been that one time in Japan.

"B, this shit's so stupid, it's painful," the man drawled through his laughter.

Grimmjow took a closer look at the screen and shook his head. It was a Youtube video, but he didn't quite understand what was going on. There was a terribly drawn sun, wearing shades and making a beat with a visible mouth. Grimmjow frowned as his eyes landed on a man Liu Kang bicycle-kicking his way across the screen in super slow motion.

"Grenade, what the fuck?" he repeated, not just slightly confused anymore, but totally and utterly flabbergasted.

Grenade howled and grabbed his stomach, causing the laptop to teeter dangerously. Grimmjow reached forward and steadied it before it could hit the floor. None of them wanted that kind of drama with P. Although Grimmjow owed the pink-haired asshole for making him endure a whole two hours of Ishida Uryuu, he didn't plan to take his revenge out on a laptop they all needed. However, at the moment, Grimmjow's attention was all for the video Grenade had playing. There was a man standing on top of a car...rapping? What was worse, the video had the nerve to have subtitles for what the guy was saying, but...none of it made sense! Not to mention the spelling was simply atrocious. It had to be a joke.

"Imdabes, imdabes, imdabeeeeees."

Grimmjow looked at his brunet teammate and shook his head. "Grenade, you fuckin' idiot. This shit's gonna rot yer brain."

Grenade was still in tears, laughing, face red and nose running. "Ahhh! Oh, God!" was all he managed.

Grimmjow lifted the laptop and set it down on the couch beside Grenade. There was something wrong with that man. As Grimmjow made his way back to his seat, P stepped past him, headed for the small kitchenette. They bumped shoulders, which made him look back at the pink-haired man incredulously. Was P purposely trying to start a fight with him or something?

Speaking of P...

Grimmjow smirked at the "I dare you" look on the other man's face. Then, he made a detour to the stairs that led to the upper level of the bus. He'd given O his space after the incident at Ishida's place because the look the orange-haired man had given him after the chess match had been won, had clearly conveyed that O felt like Grimmjow now owed him. It was true too. O had saved his hide, so it was only right he be in the man's debt. Now, it was time for O to collect in a manner of speaking. Never mind the fact that it would be for Grimmjow's benefit as well.

He climbed the stairs, made a left and slowly crept to the tactics specialist's bunk, which was located behind and above his own. The white curtain was drawn, and there was no sound coming from the small space, so Grimmjow assumed O was asleep. Didn't mean he wouldn't be nosy. He lifted a corner flap of the curtain and froze. He'd been right; O was in fact asleep.

Naked.

But still asleep.

Grimmjow couldn't let go of the curtain even if his life depended on it. All he could do was stare, eyes greedily taking in every bit of revealed skin. O was on his side, his muscular back facing Grimmjow and equally toned legs spread apart, right knee pulled up towards his stomach. His butt was perfectly rounded, skin flawless. It was like getting a peek at your presents on Christmas Eve. Grimmjow let his eyes run the length of O's spectacular body one more time before he carefully lowered the flap.

And then he came face to face with a smirking G.

"Mah, mah," the silver-haired man cooed. "Thought ya were too old ta be playin' peek-a-boo, B."

His stomach seemed to plummet to his knees as he stared slack-jawed at his teammate. What was he supposed to say? He'd been caught red-handed peeping into O's private little space, and there was no way to redeem himself. G would never let him live it down. But surprisingly, G did something Grimmjow wasn't expecting. He stepped forward, lifted the same flap Grimmjow had a second ago and promptly froze as well, ice-blue eyes slitting apart and silver brows hiding beneath the fringe of hair sweeping across his brow.

"Oh," he mumbled. "I see."

Heat engulfed Grimmjow from the inside out right before he smacked the curtain away from G's hand. He didn't want anyone else but himself looking at O like that.

"What the hell ya doin'?" he barked, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

G grinned his signature, toothless smirk as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Oh-oh. Looks like somebody's got a crush."

Oh, yeah?

Grimmjow stepped into the slender man's personal space and gave him a feral grin that showed all of his teeth. "Sure ya wanna be pointin' fingers, G, buddy? I mean, the way ya let that red ape kiss ya before kinda makes me think I ain't the only one with a secret 'er two."

G's face paled and went blank as he sent Grimmjow an intimidating glare. Well, almost. It just made Grimmjow's grin more smug.

"You'll be keepin' that ta yerself, B. Unnerstood?"

"You threatenin' me, G?"

"If tha's what it takes."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M TRYNA SLEEP!"

Grimmjow and G froze, eyes wide. O's disgruntled voice put a swift end to what may have been a nice little scuffle. They gave each other guilty looks a while longer, until G sauntered past, headed for the stairs. He stopped before descending and turned his head in Grimmjow's direction, smile back in full force.

"Let's keep this 'tween us, B, hm?"

Grimmjow appreciated the nicer tone and nodded. "Yeah, let's do that."

With that, G disappeared down the stairs, and Grimmjow faced O's bunk again. He lifted a hand and knocked on the wooden frame.

"Tch! What?!" O barked. "Didn't I jus' say I'm tryna fuckin' sleep?"

Woo. O was in a nasty mood. Grimmjow arched a brow and cleared his throat. He'd almost lifted the flap again.

"I thought ya wanted to make good on that deal we made earlier."

O was silent for a few beats before his voice came back considerably softer. "B?"

Grimmjow shifted in place and grimaced. Dammit, O. Not right now with that bedroom voice. "Uh-huh. The one an' only," he mumbled, trying to lighten the tension.

"Hang on a minute."

There was some rustling and shuffling before O emerged from the bunk in a pair of green and blue plaid boxers. Grimmjow licked his lips and looked away. The orange-haired man was shirtless, torso rippling with tightly-packed and sinewy muscle. How was that fair? The man obviously had no clue of the effect he had on Grimmjow, or else he wouldn't have shown up outside that bunk without any real clothing on. When O hopped down from his bed and stood in front of Grimmjow, Grimmjow had to take a deep breath to calm his nerves – which, in hindsight, may have been a bad idea. O's warm scent came spiraling into his nose, teasing and sexy as hell.

"What's up?" the shorter man asked, voice husky from sleep.

"Hmm..." Grimmjow started, not even sure why he was there in the first place. What was he supposed to ask again? "Um...what?"

An orange brow rose skeptically. "You woke me up to be an idiot?"

Well, that shook him out of his reverie.

"Yeah, actually I did, smartass."

O grinned, brown eyes still hooded from his nap. Grimmjow swallowed thickly as he watched O's mouth move. "Well, lay it on me, B. I'm tired, an' I wanna go back to sleep before we get to Langley."

Poor choice of words, O!

Grimmjow just chuckled and shook his head at his rotten luck, not to mention his stubborn libido. It wouldn't give him a break and turned everything O said into something perverted and lecherous.

"Ya still wanna piss P Diddy off?" he asked.

O's grin widened as he rubbed the back of his neck. "He busy?"

"Yup."

"Lemme get a shirt."

"Thank God," he grumbled to himself as he lowered his head and started for the stairs.

Unfortunately, with his rotten luck, O heard him. "You got a problem with me not wearin' a shirt, B?" the orange-haired man snapped, a frown pulling his brows together.

Tell the truth, or don't tell the truth – that was the question.

"Yup," Grimmjow lied easily. "Yer too scrawny ta be walkin' around like that."

O rolled his eyes as he climbed the ladder off to the side of his bunk. "Yeah, right. Even that idiot coyote from Looney Tunes can see through that fib. S'OK. I can understand if you're jealous, you know?"

"Jus' bring yer ass downstairs, O."

Grimmjow almost ran to the lower level of the bus, heart racing and mind in a panic. Was he that easy to see through? That couldn't be right. O just happened to get lucky. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes immediately honed in on the pink-haired man standing in the kitchenette at the counter. P was fiddling with a small, black gadget that resembled an ear piece, expression dead serious and full of concentration. Grimmjow smirked.

Perfect.

He ambled over to the fridge and pretended to root through it while he waited for O to show himself. He didn't miss the cursory glare P sent him for making a racket with a couple of cans and glass bottles. Hell, no. It just made his smirk turn predatory and ruthless. He cleared his throat and hummed a few times, practicing the right pitch. It'd been a while since he'd done what he had in mind.

O strolled into the small space a moment later, brown eyes wicked and bright orange hair sticking up on his head. He still had on those plaid boxers, but with them he had on a plain, form-fitting white tee. That hadn't done a damned thing, in Grimmjow's opinion. O's firm-looking chest and washboard abdomen was still clearly visible through the thin material. Grimmjow ignored it for the time being; they had a computer geek to rile up.

O stood next to him by the fridge, then leaned past and grabbed one of Grenade's Dr. Pepper sodas from the bottom shelf. He cracked open the top and chugged it. Grimmjow winced, throat stinging just from watching. It was all part of the plan, though. When O was done, he crushed the can in his fist and licked his lips, eyes settling on Grimmjow's face. The smirk was back and a lot bigger. Grimmjow took a peek at P, who was now watching the two of them with a narrow-eyed, golden gaze. O straightened his back, squared his shoulders and opened his mouth wide. P's face twisted with horror.

"Don't you dare!" he shouted, instantly gaining the attention of Grenade, Tu and G, who had been seated near the TV, watching a cheesy drama.

A loud, long, completely obnoxious belch killed the peaceful environment. G snickered, already aware of what was going on, while Grimmjow roared with laughter at the look on P's face. O rubbed his belly, still grinning widely.

"Hm-hm-hee. 'Ay, Butt-Head, where's the remote?" O asked, perfectly capturing the blond cartoon idiot's voice.

Grimmjow cleared his throat again, but before he could speak, P interrupted, face and voice desperate.

"No! Please! Don't do this!" he begged.

Yeah, right.

"Uh-huh-huh," he chuckled, lowering the timbre of his voice. "You had it last, Beavis."

"STOP IT!" P shrieked. "THAT'S DISGUSTING!"

"Hm-hm-hee, ohhhh, yeah," O chortled.

"Butt-munch," Grimmjow added.

By now, Tu and G were cracking up, while Grenade had that special glint in his eye that meant he was up to no good. Grimmjow saw it coming a mile away.

"What in the hell?" Grenade said over P's dismayed screams, his Southern drawl accurately nailing Mr. Anderson's character.

Tu toppled off the couch, clutching her stomach as she crowed with pained laughter. G tried to catch her, but was incapacitated by his own mirth.

"That's fucking gross!" P hollered, obviously outraged. His face was flushed, as were his ears and neck, and his eyes were spitting fury as his glasses slid down his nose. "You know that shit freaks me out! It's fucking disgusting!" he repeated, beside himself.

"Uh-huh-huh," Grimmjow started. "He said fuck."

Tu screeched with new laughter, and even Grenade chuckled. O started picking his nose as he grinned at P. That was the last straw. P stormed out of the kitchenette and up the stairs to the upper level of the bus. There was a pause where the rest of the team could hear P throwing things around and cursing like a truck driver with a bad case of road rage. After that, they all fell into hysterical laughter.

"THAT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY, YOU ASSHOLES!" P shouted from upstairs, voice slightly muffled.

That just made it worse.

Grimmjow, still cackling, unconsciously put an arm around O's shoulders and ruffled the wild, atomic-orange hair. Next thing he knew, O was pressed against him, hand on Grimmjow's chest as he continued to chuckle. It was like an instant inferno had opened up in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to pull O even closer and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. O had to feel something too because he pulled back a little and stared up into Grimmjow's eyes. They shared a long, silent moment, where they did nothing but look at each other. Tension climbed and became almost unbearable. It wasn't the uncomfortable kind of tension, either. It was the "two seconds away from having my way with you" kind of tension.

"Wow," Tu's voice chirped, breaking the intense spell. "You guys should totally kiss."

Grimmjow frowned at the insufferable woman, but O's face was engulfed with red, making the man's adorable freckles stand out. Grimmjow had always thought O's freckles were interesting considering the orange-haired man was fully grown. For some reason, Grimmjow had it in his head that only kids got them.

O's blush was just another reminder to Grimmjow that he had yet to wring that confession out of the man. He was pretty convinced that what he'd felt in Japan had indeed been a kiss. That along with what he'd heard O say... He couldn't ignore it anymore. He'd tried while they had all gone their separate ways a few years ago, but seeing the other man again had brought it all back with a vengeance. Not to mention, O still looked as good as he had back when they were an active team. Maybe even better since he'd gotten older and the age had matured his attractiveness. Grimmjow was determined to hear O admit to what had occurred in Japan.

Not now, though. He wouldn't put the other man on the spot in front of their nosy teammates.

"Be quiet, woman," Grimmjow grumbled as he stepped away from O and made his way into the sitting area.

He found an empty couch and plopped down onto it. He put his feet up and stretched his arms, legs and back, yawning as he did so. He was tired himself and figured a nap was a pretty good idea. He didn't feel like going up to the bunks and risking P's wrath, so he made himself comfortable on the couch and lay his head back. Of course, the peace didn't last.

Tu's voice was a lot closer this time. "O and B, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes O with a baby carriage," she sang.

"Hey!" O snapped from across the room. Grimmjow couldn't hide the grin that spread across his face. "Why do I gotta be the one with the fuckin' baby carriage?"

Grimmjow cracked an eye and peered at his orange-haired teammate. O's face was maroon as he scowled at Tu and clearly fidgeted with embarrassment.

How cute.

"'Cuz it's obvious I'm the man a'this relationship, babe," Grimmjow teased, watching the other man's face to see how he would react.

O looked in his direction, brown eyes wide, but then the look disappeared. "We're not at Ishida's place anymore. You can stop pretendin' now," he grunted.

Grimmjow frowned. Wasn't expecting that, he thought.

"I'm gonna grab another nap," O announced as he made for the stairs. He got halfway up before he stopped and came back down. "Think it might be safer down here, though. P might kill me in my sleep."

Tu was merciless as her eyes followed the orange-haired man to a free couch. "You sure that's why you don't wanna go up there, O, sweetie? It's OK if you wanna spend time with your new beau, ya know."

"Shut up!" O snapped as he stretched out and closed his eyes. "It was just a joke. Jeez."

Grimmjow's frown deepened. Why did O seem so pissed?

XOXOXO

They arrived in Langley not too long after he and B had successfully pissed off their pink-haired teammate. P loathed Beavis and Butt-head; it freaked him out to unnatural degree. Unfortunately for him, O and B did perfect impersonations of the characters, which they used against P whenever the computer geek was being more of an ass than usual.

It was mid-morning – ten forty-five to be exact. Ichigo was dressed in the same clothing Renji had given him, since it would help make him appear as a civilian. He fit the earpiece P handed him into his ear and gave it a sound check. Once he was sure it was up and running fine, he tucked an audio wire into his pocket and left the bus. The plan was for him to take a quick look around; get an idea of the layout, and see what changes had been made to the building since they'd last been on active duty. Should be easy enough. He'd pilfered a black hat from a nearby store, so it would keep some attention off his distinctive hair.

Bullet had been parked a few blocks away in a public garage, just to be on the safe side. Ichigo had a Glock hidden in the black backpack he carried, and the earpiece was disguised under the hat on his head. He walked down the street, wondering if things would go as easily as he hoped. He'd had incredibly bad luck the past couple of days, so there was no way to tell. P had been unbelievably optimistic, but Ichigo would wait on getting his hopes up. He approached the security gate and took a deep breath as he met the tall, burly guard's dark eyes.

"Hey, I'm here ta see my dad," he called out.

The guard frowned as expected as he emerged from the small booth. He really was a huge guy. "And who's your dad?"

Luckily, P had given Ichigo the name of a fairly well-known agent with the same last name Ichigo had on his fake ID. So, by the time the guard followed up with the agent, Ichigo would already be inside the building, which was his main aim.

"Mike Grant," he said confidently.

"Grant, huh? An' why didn'tcha call him first? By the way, ya got some ID?"

"Well, it was sort of an emergency, and since I was in the area, I decided to just drop by. And yeah, hang on a sec," Ichigo said as he withdrew his wallet from the backpack.

He pulled the ID free and handed it over to the guard, who studied it like it was the key to wealth. He glanced back and forth between it and Ichigo a few times before he gave it back and nodded.

"I gotta call it in, but ya know where the visitor entrance is, right?"

"Yup," Ichigo answered, smile bright. This was where the real test would begin. "I remember."

Once the guard entered the booth and picked up the phone, Ichigo followed behind him. He watched as the man dialed out and let the line ring. A brisk voice answered, but before the guard could get a word in edgewise, Ichigo swiftly snatched the phone and spoke into the receiver.

"Yeah, I need ta see my dad," he said.

"Hey, you can't do that," the guard protested.

Ichigo danced out of his way and discreetly pressed the button that would disconnect the call, even as he continued "having a conversation with the person on the other line."

"Yeah, Mike Grant. Nah, he didn't know I was comin', but it's an emergency. Yeah, jus' tell 'im his kid's here. Yup, Alex."

The guard stopped chasing Ichigo for the phone and watched him carry on. Finally, Ichigo figured he'd played the game long enough and nodded one last time.

"Alright, I'll be right up." He hung up the phone and turned to the guard. Here was another tricky part. If the man he was about to mention no longer worked there, Ichigo would be busted and unable to pass Go. "Urahara says gimme a pass so I can go in."

"Urahara did?"

"Mmhm."

Silence stretched on until the guard nodded and reached for a small plastic pass connected to a tiny metal clip. After he handed it to Ichigo, Ichigo pinned it to his t-shirt and nodded in return, grin still bright and as adolescent as he could make it. The guard pressed a series of buttons and the large metal gate rolled aside. Ichigo inwardly smirked as he passed it. Now, all he had to do was get around the side of the building to the maintenance personnel entrance. Once there, the game would be afoot.

He made sure to make it seem like he was headed to the visitor's entrance before he veered off towards the underground parking garage, where the entrance he was looking for was located. The garage was strangely dark for it to be so early, but glowing orange lights illuminated the really dim corners. Once Ichigo was beyond the line of sight of the guard, he reached into his backpack and withdrew his Glock. He had a strange feeling lifting the hairs all over his skin, and he was never one to ignore his intuition. He held the gun at his side and quickly strode to the mint-green, metal door on the other side of the garage. He was about ten feet away when a soft rustle caught his attention and made him whirl in place, gun raised and aimed in front of him.

When Ichigo focused on the man also holding a gun aimed at him and casually walking towards him, his face went slack with a shock so profound, all he could do was stare, paralyzed.

"Long time no see, O. How long's it been, eh?"

Ichigo was confused. What was the meaning of this? Wasn't this man supposed to be dead? And why the fuck was he holding Ichigo at gunpoint?

"Wh-wha'?" he breathed.

Blondie grinned. "Ya been a real naughty boy, O. Why couldn't ya jus' stay gone? Woulda been easier that way."

OK, that made absolutely no sense.

Ichigo scowled, the grip on his gun returning. "What the fuck're you talkin' about? I was below the radar, just like everybody else."

"Ah, yer right. I fergot. Guess I been so busy lately, it slipped my mind."

"I thought you were dead, Blondie. Why don't you put that gun down?" Ichigo tried persuading his former teammate.

"Yeah, Boss Tsukishima wanted ya ta think that. You and the rest a'those misfits were s'posed ta die in Japan. S'too bad ya didn'. Now, I gotta clean up the mess those amateurs made."

At first, Ichigo was still stuck, confused, but once Blondie's words settled, rage began rushing through him. Boss Tsukishima? And Blondie had had a hand in Japan? Ichigo's nostrils flared as he squeezed the handle of his gun.

"We were a team-" he started, but Blondie cut him off with a snort.

"Tha's what we wanted ya ta think. I was jus' an inside man."

The wide grin Blondie wore rubbed Ichigo the wrong way. He hoped P could hear him on the wire in his pants pocket. Not only didn't he think he could relay the news without hitting something, but he'd need some help getting out of there. However, he also had his mind set on causing Blondie as much pain as he was currently feeling.

"You're one hell of an actor," Ichigo muttered, still reeling from disbelief.

"S'all in the job description, ain't it, O? You should know that firsthand."

Ichigo didn't take his eyes off the blond for a second, but he would admit he was sick to his stomach after what he'd just heard. Still... He wouldn't be much of a killer if he couldn't handle bad news and unexpected surprises.

"Blondie, I don't know why you did what you did, but I can't forgive it."

Blondie's grip on his gun shifted as he gave another sinister grin. "Well, tha's fine wit' me, O. I wasn't askin' for it."

Ichigo stared at his former partner, his former friend, and shook his head. He still couldn't believe it, but he refused to let the other man catch him off guard any further. Ichigo started shuffling to the right as Blondie did the same, causing the two to circle one another. Whenever he and the blond had sparred in the past, it had always resulted in a draw. He couldn't let that happen this time. One of them had to die, and Ichigo wasn't about to let the rest of his team down. Blondie had betrayed them as well.

Unacceptable.

Ichigo wanted to get his hands on the asshole across from him by any means necessary, so he slowly, very cautiously held his gun out to the side of his body, away from Blondie. Blondie's eyebrows disappeared beneath his straight bang as he cocked his head to the side.

"How 'bout a fair fight?" Ichigo suggested, eyes still glued to the other man as they continued to stalk each other.

Blondie grinned, and after a few beats slowly held his gun out to the side as well. "Sounds good. Ya never could beat me."

Ichigo smirked at the obvious challenge. "We'll see about that. I recall our matches always ending in a draw."

"Heh, tha's 'cuz I was takin' it easy on ya."

"Count of three?" Ichigo asked, ignoring the other man's empty taunts.

"Count a'three."

"1...2..." Ichigo watched Blondie carefully, certain the man had something up his sleeve. "...3!"

He dropped his Glock and lunged, not giving the other man too much time to set up a trap. Luckily, Blondie had the same idea. They ended up grappling with each other before Ichigo landed a sharp elbow to Blondie's shoulder, making him back up. They began circling one another again, but this time Ichigo wore a grin the size of Texas. Adrenaline raced through his veins, exhilarating him. He'd almost forgotten what this felt like.

"Nice ta know retirement hasn't made ya soft," Blondie taunted yet again.

Ichigo snorted. "I'm so gonna kick yer ass."

"In yer dreams, O-boy."

With that, they lunged at each other again.

Next time...