CHAPTER 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach…

Yes…yes, I live.

When I write, I envision the sequences like scenes in a movie. Here's some soundtrack for the latter action in the chapter: "Go With the Flow" by Queens of the Stone Age. My writing style may be a tad different as well. Growing up and all that… Anyway, hope it's still enjoyable.

Onwards…

XOXOXO

P pulled into the parking lot of the nearby Long Branch docks first, Grenade second, G third and Tu last. P rolled his eyes and slowly climbed out of his Porsche, irritated beyond belief. He still couldn't believe the movie-like scene that had occurred on the Parkway. Not to mention, they were now absent two key members of the team.

"Has anyone heard from those idiots yet?" he asked as he leaned against the side of his car and watched the group gather around.

"I've called both of their cells, but neither is answering," Tu responded with a pout. "I hope they're alright. Did you see B's accident?"

Grenade nodded. "That was pretty nasty, but it definitely could've been worse. 'Sides, O came to the rescue."

P allowed the team a collective moment of amusement at the blossoming romance between its two most volatile members, even as he steadfastly ignored the slight surge of envy that bubbled up within him. The thought led his attention to their sea-green-haired teammate. It was always a difficult task pretending that he couldn't stand her when he really wanted to run his hands over her enticing curves and hoard all her smiles and giggles. Alas…

"Keep trying. Hopefully, one of them will contact us first. In the mean-time…" P stated before sighing and turning towards the closest dock.

A large, pristine, white boat bobbed peacefully atop the gentle waves, the name Las Noches painted in elegant script along its side. The scene was laughable when one thought of the boat's owner.

Grenade gave a low whistle and visored his eyes against the sun's last stand as it descended below the horizon. "I dunno 'bout you guys, but I'm gettin' damned nervous."

P had to agree, and apparently so did G and Tu. They were watching the boat with varying degrees of apprehension, when suddenly a figure appeared on the deck. The figure was a tall, lithe brunet who wore a short-sleeved linen shorts set with no shoes and a pair of dark shades. His hair lifted on the whisper-soft breeze, a single tendril brushing his forehead. P felt dread gather in the pit of his stomach as the man removed his shades and gave them a benevolent smile.

"Shit," G muttered, ice-blue eyes peeking through the slits of his eyelids.

"D'you think he's mad?" Tu asked, voice high and anxious.

P shook his head and reassured himself that his gun was secure at his waist. "Worse. I think he knew we were coming."

Grenade groaned while Tu whimpered.

"Pinky, I don't like this."

"Oh, and I suppose you think I do?" he snapped at her in return, inwardly wishing he could comfort her. Tu narrowed her eyes at him but before she could respond he sighed and forged ahead. "It's best to just get this over with. Let's go."

As one, they trudged onto the dock and toward the beautiful boat. The man on board ambled over to the silver railing and clasped it with one hand.

"How lovely it is to see you all again." His voice was a charming rumble. "Where are the other two?"

P cleared his throat and glanced up into serene, brown eyes as the group drew up next to the vessel. "Ah, they were…detained."

Disappointment and disbelief flashed in the man's eyes a second before disappearing, replaced with nonchalance and slightly surprised pleasure. He toyed with the tendril of hair that dangled between his eyes as he said, "What a shame."

The entire team inhaled sharply. Everyone knew that that was code for pain and punishment. P disguised his distress by adjusting his glasses and shifting his weight. No one wanted to speak after such a loaded statement, but they did have a pressing matter at hand. Just as P went to bring it up, the man sighed and turned his back with a dismissive wave over the shoulder.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go."

It was an unmistakable order.

XOXOXO

Ichigo opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a while, reacquainting himself with his current location. Once he remembered where he was, he turned onto his side and smiled down at his blue-haired partner. B was still sprawled on his back but now his face wasn't drawn with agony. Ichigo leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to B's cheek, grinning when all the other man did was sigh out a breath. Was he awake? Ichigo watched B's face for a sign that he was pretending to be asleep and when Ichigo didn't find one, he grinned and rolled off the bed.

After a much-needed stretch and yawn, Ichigo meandered over to the desk in the room and grabbed the ice bucket. He was sure B would need some for his shoulder whenever he decided to wake up. Ichigo absently glanced at the clock next to the TV and smirked. He hadn't slept that peacefully and that long in ages. He slipped as quietly as he could from the room, a serene smile tugging with annoying persistence at the edges of his mouth.

His mind was still firmly clenched to the memory of his new boyfriend as he turned the corner of the extensive hallway, so that was the only excuse he was giving himself for not expecting to run headlong into one of Tsukishima's minions. Well, it wasn't exactly headlong – more like an epic standoff from a few yards away. Ichigo froze and so did the tall, dark-haired man, wearing the unmistakable agency rags – AKA shitty black suit and shoes – the jacket hanging from his paper-thin frame like a blouse on a wire hanger, the pants loose at his ankles. Long story short, he looked like a kid trying on his dad's work clothes. Ichigo wanted to laugh at how comically uncomfortable the man seemed in the outfit, but his heart was too busy pounding in the back of his fucking throat.

Ichigo vaguely remembered this asshole as the guy who'd chased them off the parkway with a rocket launcher, and adrenaline spiked his blood with an extra boost like a shot of espresso. A black bandanna covered the man's left eye, his long, dark hair was pulled back into a man-bun, and his eerily wide mouth was in the process of stretching across his entire face. What a goddamned creep. The man's hand was tucked in his inner jacket pocket as if he was reaching for a cell phone, his other hand now reaching for what could only be a gun concealed at his waist. At first, Ichigo and the beanpole both had worn identical expressions of utter surprise and confusion. However, now the man stared at Ichigo like he was a juicy steak, marbled to perfection.

Ichigo swallowed and glanced sideways, spying a bright red fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. He wasn't sure what he could do with that, but push came to shove, it might be useful. Just as the thought whispered through his mind, the beanpole snatched the gun from his waist and aimed. Adrenaline through the roof at this point, Ichigo ducked and lunged for the extinguisher at the same time. The first bullet missed him by a hair, exploding into dust and bits of drywall beside his head. He glanced down at the hole it made and frowned. When he checked on the beanpole, he realized the reason he hadn't heard the shot.

Asshole has a silencer. Great. Just great.

Ichigo yanked the extinguisher from the wall, rage spurring him on. He smirked to himself as the beanpole frowned with amusement at his choice of weapon. Ichigo grimaced at the risk he was taking but inwardly crossed his fingers and launched the extinguisher with all his might. The beanpole cackled at his audacity – or maybe his stupidity; Ichigo couldn't be sure – and that was all the diversion he needed to sprint back to his motel room.

He skidded inside, slammed the door shut and set the chain and deadbolt. When he turned towards the bed, he spotted B sitting up, bright blue hair a gorgeous rat's nest and blue eyes wide with shock.

"What the fuck's yer problem?"

Ichigo shook his head as his chest heaved. "Where's your gun?"

This knocked a few of the cobwebs out of B's gaze. "What? Why? What the fuck's goin' on?"

Before Ichigo could respond, the sound of bullets splintering the doorjamb made both men freeze, eyes glued to the door. Ichigo supposed that was enough to get the lead out of B's ass for sure since the man shot to his feet and grabbed his gun from the night table drawer. While B checked his weapon, Ichigo went to the other night table and grabbed his own gun.

"Get the important shit and cover me," he grumbled as he released the safety.

After pulling aside the drab curtains to the over-sized window, he took a deep breath and cursed. He hoped this worked. His gun didn't have a silencer, so he was about to scare the shit out of everyone in the vicinity. With quick, precise aim, he shot four times, the glass shattering under the pressure. He immediately heard screams from the surrounding rooms, but they didn't have time to make sure everyone was comforted.

Ichigo glanced over his shoulder at B and was grateful to see the man already in his sneakers, plastic bag with the pain pills and who knew what else hanging from his pearly white teeth. He had his gun in one hand and was stuffing a phone into his pocket with the other.

"Ready?" he grunted.

Again, Ichigo didn't get a chance to respond as a bullet whizzed past his face. He ducked out of instinct and barely suppressed the urge to "squee" like a piglet. OK, they could talk later, he supposed.

They spilled from the motel room, shoes crunching over broken glass as they sprinted between parked cars and away from the gunfire. As they approached Ichigo's car, a heavy anvil of dread descended in his gut as he skidded to a stop, mouth forming an "O" of absolute dismay.

His car was glowing orange, burning like a fucking bonfire in Autumn.

He didn't hear the bullet ping against a nearby vehicle, but he did feel the way B snatched him to the ground by his shirt. "Jesus Christ, O. What the hell's wrong witchu, huh? Ya tryin' ta get shot?!"

Ichigo finally found a semblance of his voice, though it croaked out of his throat like he hadn't used it in years. "They're burning my car," he muttered in utter disbelief. "THEY'RE BURNING MY FUCKING CAR!"

B's eyes rounded with bewilderment for a few seconds before he pressed his lips into a thin line. It was that shitty face people make when they're trying not to laugh. Ichigo narrowed his eyes as they crouched beside a beat-up Nissan.

"If you laugh, I'll shoot you deader than dead, you sorry shit."

Well, that just made sure the asshole cracked the hell up, didn't it? B tilted his head back and cackled with glee. In fact, Ichigo was positive he saw a tear welling in the corner of a blue eye.

"Ohhh…ohhh…ahhh," B groaned as he gripped his side. "You gotta relax, O. I can't be laughin' like this. Oh, shit," he ended with a sniffle.

Ichigo scoffed in disgust and shook his head. "Heartless twerp."

For some reason, that seemed to sober the blue-haired jerk right on up. "Did you just call me a fuckin' twerp?"

Ichigo ignored the question and tried to put aside the fact that his car had been turned into a barbecue grill. "We don't have time for this." Without waiting for B to speak, he peeked around the Nissan and sighed. "That was our getaway plan. Now what?"

B craned his neck, and it was a beautiful distraction. Ichigo stared at the muscular column, wishing they were still in the motel room, preferably partaking in rigorous exercises that involved questionable positions and body fluids.

"Heh."

Ichigo frowned at the smug sound, irritated that he'd been caught staring yet again. He glared at B, who was wearing his signature sideways, annoying as fuck smirk-sneer.

"Just shut up, OK? How are we supposed to get out of here?" he snapped, face warm from embarrassment.

"Normally strategy is yer job, but since yer, uh, preoccupied…I guess I'll get us the fuck outta here." Ichigo wanted to punch him in his sexy face, but B kept talking before he could. "There's some train tracks over there by that dumpster. I'm assumin' since they're roastin' yer car like a marshmallow – OOF!"

"God, I didn't think it was possible to hate you this much after wanting to fuck you a minute ago," Ichigo grumbled as he glanced around the front of the Nissan again. B was back to chuckling and rubbing his stomach while the wheels in Ichigo's head began turning more efficiently. While it annoyed the hell out of him, B was right. Strategy was his job.

B was maybe onto something with the mention of the train tracks. Their pursuers were reckless, but they didn't seem totally incompetent, which meant they probably wouldn't give chase with their cars on such precarious terrain. That wasn't a guarantee, however Ichigo was willing to take that bet. He opened his mouth to affirm B's idea when he spotted an agency minion slinking in their direction. Without a word, he fired his gun and hit the idiot right above his knee.

"Time to go, Bluella de Vil," he snapped as the agent crumpled to the ground only a few feet away.

"Hey!" B griped but was already in position to duck walk around the Nissan. "Watch yer mouth, Tangerina!"

Ichigo snorted as he scanned the parking lot. He spotted a few agents still creeping around the destroyed motel room window, and there were also a couple in the area where his car was being roasted like a rotisserie chicken. If they were going to get out of there alive, now was the time to do it. He was glad he didn't have to tell B his every thought. Once he started sneaking over towards the tracks, B was right on his heels, blue eyes alive with excitement and mischief.

It felt like the old days again, back when they were hip-deep in mercenary work. Ichigo remembered with fondness how B would jump into the fray headfirst, questions maybe asked later, but definitely wearing the exact same expression he wore right that moment.

Good times.

One of the agents must have guessed where they were headed since there was suddenly a guy blocking their path. Buuuut, just as soon as he'd appeared, he was quickly disposed of. B didn't even hesitate before putting a bullet in the man's throat.

"Savage!" Ichigo called over his shoulder with a flirtatious grin.

B just snorted as they sprinted onto the tracks that looked so old, they seemed unused. They were simple wooden slats between the two metal rails, and grass sprouted between those like it was desperate to escape the ground. They zig-zagged back and forth, changing positions in order to avoid being sitting ducks to the asshole minions giving chase behind them. Ichigo didn't want to voice the thoughts running through his mind at the moment, but the more they ran, the louder those thoughts became until he could no longer keep quiet.

"I'm startin' ta think this was a bad idea!" he called behind him as they approached a sharp turn in the tracks.

"What're ya talkin' about?" B called back.

Ichigo remembered what came after the turn in the tracks, and it was a one-way trip to hell. The Passaic River was nearby and that meant a bridge was coming. After darting back and forth a bit more to avoid the onslaught of bullets, the turn opened up, and sure enough, there it was. A rickety, wooden bridge loomed ahead of them. Ichigo was fine with most things in the world but being suspended over large bodies of water made him want to piss himself. B knew this as well as indicated by the loud barks of laughter he sent over Ichigo's shoulder.

How could it be possible to love someone who effortlessly tweezed each of Ichigo's nerves like eyebrow hairs?

"I don't think this is funny!" he snapped as he avoided looking down. "I don't think this is funny one fuckin' bit!"

B just kept laughing. In fact, he laughed even louder.

The bridge seemed to sway, and it made Ichigo want to stop in his tracks and grab something. As it was, he spread his arms apart and gripped fistfuls of air, praying that this wouldn't be the day he died. He still had so much more he wanted to do, and he would start with throttling the blue-haired idiot laughing at him. But first, the bridge. It was too narrow for Ichigo's liking, and the wood was splintered in places.

"At least we don' hafta worry 'bout any trains com-" B started, and right before he could finish that godforsaken statement, a train horn blew in the distance.

All the blood left Ichigo's face as he stopped and stared ahead. There was still a shit ton of bridge left, and they had to be up about fifty feet in the air. This wasn't happening. This shit only happened in movies and cartoons – not his fucking real life. B ran right into him from behind and gripped his arm, dragging him forward as he took the lead.

"Are you crazy?!" B hollered. "They're still behind us!"

"There's a train comin'. You heard it too, right? I ain't imagining things?"

B finally paused for a brief moment, empathy softening his blue eyes. "I heard it too, O. But we gotta go. We can't sit here like this."

Ichigo really wanted to cry, but he swallowed the emotion and got his ass in gear. They started running again until the train's horn blared once more, this time much louder. Ichigo faltered, heart stuttering in his chest. They were stuck on a bridge, and the train was getting closer by the second. There was no way in hell they were going to make it to the other side in time. Ichigo did the unthinkable and looked down. The river looked like it was relaxing, and there didn't appear to be any rocks visible. Maybe their bodies wouldn't be torn to pieces if they had to jump, which was appearing more and more likely.

B realized it too because his steps slowed. "O, we gotta jump. We ain't makin' it ta the other side before that train shows up."

Ichigo noticed that there were no more bullets whizzing by them, and as he looked over his shoulder, he understood that the agents had the good sense to turn around and flee before becoming human pancakes. That left the two of them. They were literally standing at the middle of the bridge, so there was no point in turning back; the train was damned near on them. They had to do this. Ichigo closed his eyes and gulped down air like he would never taste it again. He was terrified. His heart was beating so hard and fast, it ached, and his hands were clammy and cold. They had to do this, though. B put a hand on his shoulder, drawing Ichigo's attention for a moment. His eyes were soft again as he nodded.

"Count a three?"

Ichigo's mouth was cotton, his tongue sandpaper. "Yeah," he breathed. "Count a three."

"One." B's voice was firm and soothing, but it did nothing but ratchet up Ichigo's anxiety. "Two." The train horn blared again, and this time Ichigo could see it careening towards them. Fuck. "Three!"

Time felt suspended as they both jumped, legs and arms as streamline as possible. Ichigo's heart was in the back of his throat, his stomach in his ass. His took in a huge gulp of air and prayed to every god available that he wouldn't die upon impact. When he finally did hit the water, it engulfed him immediately, shooting cold jets into his nose and knocking the air out of his lungs. It was a miracle he didn't crash into any rocks or other debris, but the current sucked him under like he was soup from a spoon. He kicked his legs and swam furiously upward, gasping when his head broke the surface. His eyes were still closed as he treaded water and tried to recover the breath he lost, but his other senses reached out, searching for B. A few scary seconds of silence passed before a commotion a few feet away signaled B's rise to the surface as well. Ichigo almost felt like he could relax, but he soon realized that now they had another problem to contend with. Their possessions were likely waterlogged, they were under a bridge like a pair of trolls, and they had no getaway vehicle or plan. In fact, this was the best way to turn up dead.

B's voice floated over the gentle lapping of the water. "We gotta get outta here. Let's go over there," he indicated with a nod of his head.

Ichigo glanced in the direction B pointed out and agreed. There was a cluster of gnarled-looking trees at the riverbank, so they slogged their heavy bodies that way. As soon as Ichigo made landfall, he flopped onto his back and closed his eyes, uncaring of the way he smelled and what nasty things probably littered the ground around him. He felt exactly as what he'd just done, which was run like hell for his life. He barely registered B repeating the process beside him. Honestly, he was too focused on gathering air and calming the adrenaline still coursing through his body. The air was rank for sure, but it felt absolutely amazing. They had survived an impossible situation. Now they just had to find their way out of this one.

XOXOXO

Grimmjow stared up at the sky like he had never seen it before. His arm was still throbbing, but now he could add chest pain to the list of misery. It was never fun jumping from high distances into water, but usually they had better equipment that allowed them to navigate the fall. Jumping off that decaying bridge was probably going to be in his best-seller story archives for a long time. After heaving a worn-out sigh, Grimmjow turned his head to check on his lovely, potty-mouthed boyfriend. O was in pretty much the same starfish position, his mouth open as he downed lungful after lungful of precious air. His orange hair was spiked and plastered to his head, a brown leaf perched near his ear like a barrette. His clothes weren't faring any better. In fact, they both looked like characters from a Dickens novel, but O was still beautiful.

Grimmjow chuckled at the look in O's eyes when they first heard the train horn. He recalled O's terror at being over water, and whether it was by plane, bridge, or boat didn't seem to matter. The man just hated being in the presence of open bodies of water. It was probably one of those irrational fears that psychologists liked to talk about. O finally sighed and looked over at Grimmjow, those cinnamon-colored eyes fluttering open, clearly just as exhausted as Grimmjow felt.

"So…looks like we made it."

Grimmjow snorted a laugh, barely resisting the urge to drag the shorter man closer. However, he did reach over and fondly remove the leaf.

"Yeah, we made it."

"Now what?"

"That I dunno. I'm fuckin' starvin' though."

O smirked and ran a hand over his washboard abdomen, clearly visible through his wet t-shirt. "That's a fact."

Grimmjow was almost disgusted with himself for how quickly his mind dove into the gutter. Maybe it was the adrenaline that was only just settling down, but he really wanted to fuck the orange head's brains out along that riverbank. With another snort, he slowly sat up and surveyed their surroundings. It was a gross patch of mud and dirt, littered with shit like tires, plastic bottles and other garbage, but he did spot an incline that might lead to a highway or street or something.

"O-" he started and was cut off when he saw an agent peeking down at them from the bridge. Great, looked like they no longer had time to figure out their next move. Instead, they just had to make it. "We gotta go!"

O's eyes rounded with shock as he followed Grimmjow's gaze. "Fuck!" he cursed as they both climbed to their feet.

Sneakers making an annoying sloshing noise as they jogged, they made their way over to where the trees began to disperse. A few seconds before they emerged, Grimmjow faltered at the sight of a candy-purple Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat pulled over to the side of what did turn out to be a highway. The rims were 22 inches of gleaming purple chrome, and the strong smell of bubblegum floated over to them beyond the tree line. "Boss¥" by Lil Yamaha blared from the souped-up speakers.

"You guys are in so much trouble!" a small, pretty man called from beside the car.

Luppi Antenor had his dark hair styled in a short bob with an asymmetrical bang. He had a tattoo over his left eyebrow of three lilac-colored stars that eerily matched his hooded eyes. He wore designer clothes and shoes, and today that was a white Hilfiger, cropped, short-sleeved hoody and matching white jogger sweats. On his feet were white, Hilfiger sneakers, and across his chest he wore a white, Hilfiger waist bag. A huge pink bubble erupted from his small mouth as he watched Grimmjow and O approach the vehicle. Ice was pooling in Grimmjow's gut at the sight of this man, knowing who he was but more importantly who he worked for.

Not only that, but he had an annoying crush on O.

"Boss is really mad at you guys," Luppi reiterated, as if they hadn't quite heard him the first time.

O's voice was strained when he asked, "I take it the others made it on time?"

Luppi grinned. "Mmhm." After a short pause where Luppi ogled O, and Grimmjow fought the desire to rip those lavender eyes from his face, Luppi tilted his head and sighed. "You're so hot when you're filthy, O, you know that?"

Grimmjow didn't even realize his nostrils flared and he took a step forward until O's hand shot across his chest. After blinking away the sudden murderous rage, Grimmjow swallowed and looked anywhere but at the retired agent flirting with his boyfriend.

"I think we should get goin'. We got company comin'."

Luppi nodded again, grin still wide and irritating. "You do draw a crowd, O. Let's go!"

Once Luppi turned his back and made for the driver's side of the vehicle, Grimmjow huffed a breath, much to O's amusement apparently. The orange-haired man was chuckling quietly as he finally looked over at him.

"You're adorable when you're jealous."

Grimmjow gritted his teeth wanting so badly to deny it, but he couldn't. O was right. And Grimmjow hated it.

"Shut up."

"Ha-ha! I think we should be more worried about what that guy is gonna do once we get there. Luppi said he's pretty mad, which means we're probably gonna die. How you feelin' about that?"

Grimmjow shrugged as they climbed into the gorgeous car, the scent of bubblegum and leather enveloping him. "No point in stressin' out over it. Whatever's gonna happen will happen."

O nodded as he settled beside Grimmjow in the backseat. "Yeah, that's true."

"You should put your seatbelts on, ladies. Your company has arrived."

Grimmjow craned his neck and glanced out of the tinted back window, eyes widening when he saw four silver cars flying down the highway toward them. He whipped around and snatched the seatbelt into place just in time to get smashed against the seat as Luppi hit the gas and took off like a fucking rocket. The car growled like a beast and merged with traffic, flitting between civilian cars with the ease and grace of a ballerina. Unfortunately, even though Grimmjow hated Luppi's guts, the man was the best driver he'd ever met. Luppi shifted gears and glanced into the rearview mirror with his signature grin.

"Bye-byyyyeeee," he sang.

Before Grimmjow could even blink, they were moving at a dangerous speed, the agents in the silver cars disappearing from sight. When Luppi finally let up on the gas, Grimmjow breathed a sigh of temporary relief and reached over, grasping O's hand that was resting between them on the seat. In return, O gave him a warm smile that made Grimmjow wish like hell they were still back at the motel, undisturbed.