Songs for the dance, are Birthday Massacre- Video Kid, Missio- Everybody Gets High, and Sam Tinnesz- Play with Fire ft. Yacht Money
Yumichika
An eidetic memory can be both a blessing and a curse. Normally I loved it. In running the Reaper's art collections- as I like to think of my job- it was a glorious help. I could recognize everything from authentic signatures to proper brushstrokes, to the varying shades of aquamarine used by Renaissance masters, only differentiated in hue by the base type of oil they used to dilute the pigment. Let's just say that I specialize in perfect replications.
Every minute detail was always in my mind. And in art, beauty abounded in both what I had the pleasure of viewing and my recreations. People scoffed at my perceptions of beauty, at my disgust at the less than perfect, but they were able to forget these things, weren't they? I, on the other hand, am stuck with them. Every ugly face and unintended asymmetry plagues my existence for the rest of time!
If you had to see something every day in your mind for the rest of your life, wouldn't you want to see only beautiful things?
The downside of my unsung talent were missions like these. The Hollows were undoubtedly powerful in their upper ranks, and they needed watching. I just didn't want it to be by me. They were an ugly group, these dregs of society, more akin to neanderthals than man. There was little beauty in them or their side of town. This little trip, I had been sure, was going to be a plague in my mind for centuries to come.
But those two… they were striking individually but breathtaking as a pair. My companions were used to me staring at them and their perfectly symmetrical athlete's features by now. I used their beauty, and my own, to try to muffle the draconian surroundings and oafish residents. But, for the first time since we had entered this hellish side of town, I didn't need their distraction.
I also needed, in this moment to not be distracted as I surveyed the girl. She had come from the back in a different outfit, a new hair style, and her makeup retouched to look more youthful but no less sinister. With her red hair in curled braids and harlequin makeup dark against fair skin, she resembled a porcelain doll. The kind you could endlessly admire… but also worried about possibly haunting your bedroom in the wee hours of the night.
She spoke animatedly to a tall, copper-skinned woman with an easy smile and a shamelessly bare chest who almost seemed to glow in the dim lights. These may possibly be the two most attractive women on this side of the river, how did they both find their way here?
Even as the tall one is speaking to her and fixing her smudged lipstick, I see the main dancer's- Venus'- eyes cut across the room to the jaw-dropping blue haired demon across the room. As are my own.
Aha! I found what happened to her lipstick.
It's smudged on the corner of the devilish smile of none other than Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. The Sexta Espada. The King of Destruction. I've known his name and his work for years, but had never been able to snag more than a single image off of a grainy security camera feed. It did him no justice. However, the distinct tattoos around his eyes and on his jaw, even if I hadn't known that the blur from the picture was gnashing, skeletal teeth, made him unmistakable.
He wasn't just an Espada. His exploits made him one of the most wanted men in the country. And he wasn't supposed to be here.
Ikakku and Abarai can be peeved at my hint about our backup waiting outside all they want, but he wasn't supposed to be here, and I don't want to die today. My beauty cannot perish yet!
Sure, we had been warned that many high-powered hollows piled into this horrid, rat infested club on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but the only espada reported to be a fixture was the 5th seat- Nnoitra Gilga.
God, I can't even look at him.
Talk about asymmetrical- he's missing an entire fucking eye. And that hair!? Nope. I cannot look again. His gangly body and terrifying smile will probably terrorizet my dreams. Wonderful.
Better to look at the duo as the King himself finally circles away from the DJ booth to make his way over. The girl is staring at the stage with an apprehension I would not expect from someone who is supposed to be the star of the night. The purple contacts in her eyes may hide their true color, but not their fear.
"Yumichika," Ikakku asked quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the music, "Is it her?"
Ah, yes… her. Ema Valons is the real reason I'm here, slogging through the fetid wasteland of Hollow territory. They gave me every image they had of the girl, every record from doctors to dentists to school transcripts; everything needed to identify her if we came across her. She had found information she shouldn't have seen. She tried to turn it into the Quinceys. Luckily, she had reported it to Ishida, who has been in our pocket for years.
"That ain't her," Renji grunted, "I knew her. No way she had the balls to get on that stage."
"I'm pretty sure balls are exactly what they don't want on that stage," I murmured, eliciting a laugh from Ikakku.
As the raucous jokes between the two of them kept getting dirtier behind my head, I studiously ignored my drink (In no universe was a glass that was "washed" here ever touching my lips) and focused solely on the girl. Could our elusive Ema in fact be this Venus?
A petite young woman with brown hair and brown eyes, Ema was known to be shy and reserved. She had begun to open up more after getting in shape, her colleagues had noted, but there is a large leap from emerging wallflower to stripper- in the midst of the roughest audience, no less.
Physically, Venus did not resemble Ema. Sure, there were some easily changeable features that could show similarity between them. I was already aware that Venus was wearing contacts, but it was impossible to tell her true eye color. Technically, it could be brown. As could the brilliantly red hair. If you took away the crazy high platform boots, they may be of similar height… Even makeup, if applied by an artful and precise hand, could seem to alter someone's very bone structure.
"Earth to Yumichika!" Ikkaku cried out, shaking my shoulder and earning himself a glare.
It only made him smile. Typical.
"What?"
"I asked," he began all over, "about her voice. You listened to the recordings."
Ah, yes. The memory came with sound, too. Much to the men's delight, and my utter dismay, they had been making use of me as a judge for their loudest burp competitions. I never said we were that different from the Hollows. Although in their case, they would probably have me judging farts.
"I did."
"Well?" Abarai leaned on closed, "Is it her?"
"Sorry," I said lightly, "none of the tapes were available in 'whisper' format."
"Seriously?" Abarai fell back to his seat grumbling.
"You really can't tell if it's her?" Ikkaku asked.
Too loud.
"Eh?" Nnoitra asked, leaning forward like a bird praying mantis, drink perched in his too large hands, "What are you askin' about? Her who?"
Fuck! I looked at him again! But, thank god, the only one to overhear it was apparently a moron- but we couldn't count on that.
"Clearly, they are talking about my girl."
Grimmjow vaulted up over the high bar blocking off what I can only assume was the VIP section here in an uncanny display of athletisism that made Abarai and Ikakku grimace. Settling himself on the other side of Abarai, in a chair that seemed to vacate just for him in under a minute, he and Nnoitra effectively pinned us in.
This was uncomfortable. I found myself thankful for the fighters on my flanks in the riskiest spots. It's not that I couldn't fight- I am a Reaper, after all- but heedless risk just isn't my style.
"The question is," Grimmjow said slowly, smiling around a bottle of whiskey that seemed to have magically appeared on a table beside him, "Is why your questions seem to center around who she is instead of the normal ones like how to get in her pants."
It seems that the rumors of the Sexta's nearly superhuman senses were true, I couldn't help but notice. His eyes almost seemed to glow in the low light, his physicality was impressive, and how the hell had he heard us from across the packed and raucous room? Or was he simply more intelligent than we gave the Hollows credit for and pieced it together himself?
"Meh, I don't fuck Hollows, or their sloppy seconds," Ikkaku growled from my other side, raising his glass in the most debonaire challenge I had seen him execute, "I'd rather recruit."
I could feel Abarai tense next to me, but Ikkaku was only met with a haunting laugh that I knew would bug him for weeks.
"Eh, Grimm," Nnoitra drawly obliviously, "why's that… Venus only got one pole up?"
"How the fuck would I know? It's her routine" Grimmjow growled back, glaring as he caught Nnoitra's slip toward an insult as well as I did.
Clearly there was no love lost here. Good to know.
"She's always trying to cut corners this one," Nnoitra addressed us conspiratorially.
"Why?" Abarai asked casually leaning back as he tried to lead Nnoitra to reveal more cards.
Nnoitra didn't answer for a minute as our eyes turned to see the girl in question approach the bottom steps to the stage, looking nervously around the room before her eyes settled on us. I could only describe her expression as panic. Her lips tensed as she tried to breathe deep, but her eyes only got wider as they locked on my own. She was losing her cool like a brand-new dancer on their first night. Why would she be so…
Before I could finish my thoughts, a loud whistle ripped through the air and my gaze was drawn back to the King. It was a tiny move, so small many wouldn't notice his tapping his partially exposed chest with his finger before barely pointing it at Venus.
A silent 'I've got you' if I ever saw one.
Her eyes didn't stray to mine again as she gave a small nod in understanding.
"She's still stepping to the stage," Ikkaku drawled over his shoulder to Nnoitra, "but she doesn't look happy. Why does she cut corners again?"
Nnoitra did little more than grunt as he eyed his blue haired compatriot. "Lazy, I guess," he finally muttered with a shrug right as the room was plunged into darkness.
Before I became too worried about being murdered in the dark however, a light and bouncy electronic tune began to trickle through the speakers and lights around the track at the top of the stage began to flash in time, painting the stage and the girl climbing the steps in a vibrant multicolor.
She was beautiful, she calmed her breathing, and then it was like switch flipped. Never breaking her gaze from the Espada, she quirked her now perfectly redone lips into a little half smile of a killer and began to move. It was slow at first, plasticene movements the only reinforced the doll effect that she had painted herself into. In jerky movements, she brought her hands above her head, fingers clenched to resemble toy guns.
Against all odds, her smile actually became real as she dropped her thumbs and the sound of a gunshot rang through the crowd as the beat dropped into a dissonant heavy metal and Venus let go of her reservations.
It was as if this Venus was a different person as she caved to the whims of the chaotic beat of Birthday Massacre's Video Kid. Her eyes met mine with no reservations as she dropped to gyrate on the stage with a wicked smile as the song ordered to "Shoot the pretty boy" before performing a smooth back roll into standing as she framed her face with her hands. If her reference to me was so undisguised, what did it say as a highlight to lyrics about having a new face.
This dancer was not what I had expected because she was exactly that. A dancer. This was no average stripper. She had barely touched the pole but to anchor herself in backbends and headbanging and had only finished in ripping off the remains of her already tiny t-shirt to reveal a black bustier that definitely made the most of the pale expanse of creamy skin. As the light dimmed, the high-pitched intro to the song was left on repeat. Slowly it morphed into the sound of snare sticks striking another upbeat rhythm.
It did not escape me that the crowd of rowdy Hollows had gone nearly silent, enraptured and waiting to see what would come. And as the multi colored light began to pulse in time to the new beat, I could see that none were disappointed. Gone were the shitkicker boots and pigtails, the haunted doll had grown up into the most mesmerizing nightmare. Her red hair was left loose in waves half way down her back and made the harlequin effect of her makeup haunting, only highlighted by the purple glow from her eyes. The black bustier had been replaced by a deviant black harness that left nothing to the imagination and her tiny panties had wide black ribbons flowing from them to lace down her legs. The effect was echoed in red and black ribbons that were tied around her biceps as well. Perhaps the most surprising aspect of her new look was that she was barefoot.
This was an uncomfortable level of unpredictability.
Shifting her hips to the increasing beat of Missio's Everybody Gets High, Venus did the unexpected again and dropped to the floor of the stage as the lyrics fell, alternately twirling and crawling toward the side of the stage, not rising to her feet until she was right at the edge. Throwing a bawdy wink at Grimmjow as his sip of whiskey coincided with the song she stretched sinuously and twirled her way down the edge.
Her smile seemed like pure mirth as the chorus hit and she grabbed a drink, holding it up to a patrons face to drink before tipping it to quickly into his lap. Before the Hollow could react, she had scampered away with a laugh, twisting around the pole and holding our her hand to mimic his bitching with the song before alighting on the pole in the center.
She wound her way through the standard pole dancing positions I had seen before but with an enviable rare grace before landing on her feet again in time to the verse. This time she avoided the customers drinks, instead displaying acrobatic moves before turning those fierce eyes on our area again.
"When you bitch, when you bitch, when you bitch…"
She mouthed along to the song, smiling at Grimmjow as she did.
"Counterfeit, hypocrite, holy shit."
Pointing at each of us Reapers in turn to the lyrics, Venus held my gaze with a cockiness that I would not have known was in her. I could feel Abarai's low growl vibrating in the air before an even more sinister one came from his side, cowing him into silence. Grimmjow's protective glare swept through us in an instant with the force of a sword before he turned his gaze back to stage where the small woman simply smiled and laughed before doing a back handspring… that launched her onto the pole upside down.
She hit the pole right as the bridge chorus rang out and she scaled the pole backwards in a series of heart-stoppingly sexy undulations.
While I make no worry over silly things like gender when determining attraction, it is hard for anyone to meet my standards of beautiful perfection. It is a rare day when appreciation turns to arousal, yet somehow this woman had me ready to come in less than a minute as she twirled herself around a pole, lost to her own mind.
Finally righting herself , Venus spun to the bottom and scampered to the edge before grabbing a customers beer and doing quick jump to spiral around the pole while taking a swig.
I'm not sure if this girl is adorable or insane. And while my mind is saying that she could still be Ema, that annoying squishy feelings part of me thinks there's no way this is the same demure girl who saw one thing to many. There is no way Ema would be scampering back off a pole and delivering a drink back to an angry Hollow. There is no way Ema would smile disconcertingly at him during the perfect lyrics to shut him up.
Venus takes a deep breath as the chorus ends, staring intently at the pole and I watch with a little bit of awe as she takes off running to launch sideways onto the pole at least 7 feet up like a goddamn gymnast.
The Hollows actually cheer at the move, as if sex appeal has taken a back seat to pure intrigue and appreciation. Slowly, she winds herself further up the pole as if climbing for the ceiling itself, interspersing various moves in until the music stops and she falls, arms outspread.
Did I just scream? I feel like screamed.
She caught herself with her knees at the last moment and, as I sigh in relief, I notice the two red swaths of gauzy fabric that trailed down after her. What new heart attack will the beauty levy on me now.
No, not on me. I follow the paths of her eyes to the King before she shoots him a wink as the stage goes black again.
I can hear Renji and Ikkaku mumbling in surprise at this woman and her antics, but they can barely be heard over Grimmjow's cackling laughter. He almost sounds… proud? Did he want her to stand out this way? Was there something deeper there that was driving his delight? Come to think of it, Ema had escaped during one of the attacks that we knew had the personal stamp of the King of Destruction… could this be her and had they been working together?
But then why would she have gone to the Quinceys? They hunt both the Hollows and us Reapers…
Too soon, the staccato beat of Missio faded into the crackling sounds of fire and a violet light took over the stage.
"Aw, fuck this bitch," Nnoitra groaned, knocking me from my musing. Ugly bastard.
"Shut the fuck up," Grimmjow growled back, "It worked for you last time."
"Eh, Sexta?" Nnoitra cocked his head, "Wanna come closer and say that?"
"Ain't been a new rank fight in a while, my man," Grimmjow stresses lightly, "Might ought to make sure that tat is still valid."
"You fucking mother fucker, I'll fucking-"
"Add more words to your vocabulary?"
Well, this situation just got more dangerous. I feel like a dog at a tennis match watching the volley between them before red light begins to flicker around the edges of the stage drawing everyone's attention.
In the center next to the pole lies the goddess herself. Her red hair is loose in curls that fan out around her and red and black ribbons are now tied around her thighs and wrists, as well. Besides that, she is as bare as the day she was born. Her eyes are closed and she looks almost peaceful in the midst of the surrounding chaos. She is like the beauty of my paintings, perfection regardless of anything around it.
Only a few short notes preceded her rising, seemingly on strings as first only her chest rose then the rest of other before she began to wind herself sinuously around the pole, launching herself up into graceful twirls as she climbed higher on the pole to the hypnotic sounds of Sam Tinnesz' and Yacht Money's Play With Fire. Slowly, the flickering, flame-like light gives way to the influence of the blacklight, igniting her skin in slashing streaks, like electrical scars of bright green lightening with smeared red handprints. It's beautiful, but…
Maybe she's the actual chaos here.
Finally at the top of the pole, she reached out for the fabric swaths. Never losing her rhythm from her gyrating movements, she artfully wove the fabric around her waist and thighs before releasing the pole and swaying above the crowd and spinning herself in a fast twirl before slowing to acrobatically pull herself inverted in the splits, yet she was still tantalizingly invisible in the blacklight. It was mouthwatering. Until she let go.
Again, I watched the beauty take a seemingly death-defying fall, twirling on the wound sheet with ribbons streaking behind her until a single loop at her thighs stopped her decent and sent her into another horizontal spin. Effortlessly, she reached the pole and began her ascent from fire streaked to electrical storm, winding the fabric around the pole above her.
As the bridge hit, her movements changed as she controlled her spins and wound her arms more tightly in the fabric. There was the grin again and I couldn't help but brace myself for what was to come.
"Unstoppable, legendary animals,
Digital justice,
Now you're gonna know us,
Hail to the king and queen of the ruckus"
With that, she literally bowed to Grimmjow on my right who nodded back with a curling grin before pushing off the pole with all her might. She launched herself into a widening spiral that grew as she artfully kicked her legs into various poses until she alit on the bar of the VIP section itself like a dark fairy.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as she leaned forward to lightly run her tongue up Grimmjow's chin to his bottom lip before cackling and falling straight backwards off the bar. As her fabric caught her, lightly depositing her back at the pole, the crowd erupted in cheers, and I would have been right along with them if I hadn't been so shocked. The music slowed and lights went dim, leaving just enough for me to tell that Grimmjow had jumped straight over the bar to follow Venus to the stage, the crowd parting for him like water.
"Damn," Ikkaku whispered, following it with a low whistle.
"Yeah," Renji agreed, "no wonder this place gets packed. That was- was a…"
"That wasn't a striptease," I completed for him, "that was a performance."
"Yeah," Nnoitra drawled, "That was Venus. And now you've seen her so-"
"Can I talk to her?" I asked, cutting him off without looking at him. He sounded disgruntled and I didn't want to have to see that. It would make him worse than he already was.
"Eh?" Nnoitra echoed back, "Why would you wanna do that?"
"It's all good, Yumichika," Ikkaku drawled, "we can just-"
"I want to speak with her," I answered determinately.
"Tch, whatever," Nnoitra said with an eyeroll I could hear as he stood.
Standing to follow him, Renji leaned close to me. "There's no way that woman is the wall flower we have been looking for, even with the dance experience."
I wasn't so sure. Those blacklight marks… some of them were tattooed on her. The hair was a wig, the contacts were colored. That was major modification, but her height was dead on. Most importantly was that laugh. Ema had been jovial, agreeable, and quick to mirth. Her laughter was splashed all over the collected videos and recordings of her. The music distorted what I just heard but that could be her. It had to be. I needed to know.
"We'll see," I murmured as we worked our way down to the stage.
