...

Or at least, that's what he was trying to do.

His hand suddenly detached, gun still clenched in it's grasp as it hit the floor with a meaty THUNK. Maki stared in shock at the loss of his hand and upper wrist – what the hell? Blood started pouring – torrenting – out of the open wound, and he felt the effects with shocking clarity.

Clutching his arm to his chest, he collapsed to the floor and curled into a ball, teeth clenched and breath hissing out in a rising sound, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. He shortly passed into unconsciousness, and it was at that point that Ikkaku bent down and applied a tourniquet from the mans belt. He wouldn't die. Probably.

Kenpachi frowned and turned away, furious that the little scumbag had been so much of a nuisance, and not even much of a fighter! He was unperturbed by the sight of the gun. He had cut off the mans arm at the last possible point, to see if he would finally drop the gun and actually fight. But no – Maki had decided to take the weaklings way out and use a gun. Pussy. It's not like Kenpachi thought he couldn't die – he knew the bullet meant for him was possibly fatal, but it didn't really matter when he could cut faster than a man could move.

He removed the hidden sword out of its battered wooden camouflage for the second time, and checked it for blood. Not even a smear. The slice had been too quick – almost surgical. With a huff, he holstered the weapon and headed back to the car, noting Ikkaku had already called the paramedics to come and clean up their prize. Walking through the house, towards the front entrance, he passed Isane Kotetsu, the second in charge of Sereitei General Hospital. She was hustling into through the front door with a gurney and her small, weary looking assistant. Kenpachi paused at the front step to scan the area. If Isane was here, that meant that Retsu Unohana was having a busy day – she didn't just send out her best paramedic for no reason. Either that… or she was having him followed again, knowing the kind of human destruction he left in his wake.

Kenpachi sighed. He hoped it wasn't the second one. The last time he was followed by Unohana's medics, he had unintentionally (well, almost unintentionally) frightened them into fainting. One of them was committed to a shrink for six months, and under paid 'sick leave' no less. Hmph – weaklings – the whole lot of them. Not that he'd ever say that to Unohana. He had some sense of self preservation outside of a fight.

Folding himself into the backseat of car – Ikkaku would be travelling in the ambulance with the 'patient' – The Captain directed Makiyosuke to drop him off at his favorite bar, just inside the city limits. It was almost one o'clock, and his irritation at today's 'adventure' had not ebbed his growing headache one little bit. He was due for an afternoon nap, but a cold drink would be a nice substitute until Ikkaku could join him and report in on the condition of their bounty. Yachiru was staying over at her 'uncle' Byakuya's penthouse tonight, with her highschool friend Rukia, so no need to think about company. The Kid always seemed to be making friends outside her age group, but as long as she was happy, he didn't care.

Downing his eighth beer in a vicious swig, and heaving his enormous frame off the bar stool, Kenpachi made his way to the bathroom, enjoying the smoky haze and muted rock music playing from the junkyard jukebox in the corner. This was his relaxation time, and he was determined to enjoy it. The only thing more relaxing was having a quiet nightcap with the Kid, while she pretended to do her homework – but he was too restless for that kind of relaxation tonight. He needed somewhere violent – somewhere someone would get drunk enough to start a fight, and then he might actually get some of this tension off his back. It had been a burn out of a day, getting his expectations up then squashing them.

The only let down was that most of the drunks in this bar were off duty civil servants – cops, firemen, medics – even the occasional egghead who lived on the dark side. There were also the reformed scumbags – like that Urahara Kisuke. Hmph – everyone knows he only got off because of his connections to the (now retired) Senator Yoruichi Shihoin. She herself probably would have been thrown in with him, if it wasn't for all her family ties to the white house. Bloody rich people.

Kenpachi finished his business, tucked himself in and lumbered his way back to the bar – raising an eyebrow at Matsumoto Rangiku, the bar waitress, to send another beer his way. She gave him her usual pouty grin and slid the bottle down the bar expertly with a wink. He flicked a few coins her way and nodded his thanks, noting not for the first time how the other men in the bar were falling over each other to get her to grin at them like that. Pfft – idiots. She was just a woman – a well filled out, pretty woman, he supposed – but he only care to remembered her name because she was a solid drinker, and a reasonable fighter.

During one memorable session when she was clearing up for the night and her pipsqueak boss was counting the till, some stupid addict decided it would be a good idea to hold up the joint, probably to score cash for a hit. Kenpachi and Ikkaku were having a late evening after a very long day, and realized they were the last patrons in the bar. They had grunted as they realized they'd probably have to do something about the screaming, gun wielding maniac at the counter. But, before either of them could move, they heard the young owner – who hadn't even looked up at the crazy idiot – call out quietly for Matsumoto to 'take care of it'. Ikkaku scoffed loudly, but Kenpachi waited, mind ticking over all the details:

-Firstly, it was a well known fact that the owner, Toshiro Hitsugaya was not only a genius young businessman, for all his 18 years, but was in fact an ex-militia leader in his home country near the Siberian border.

-Secondly, no genius/ex-militia leader would decide to own a bar in a roughneck part of town like this, if he wasn't certain that he had the right kind of staff to protect his interests.

-Thirdly, only an idiot would hire ugly chicks to wait drinks at a bar, unless they thought all the extra booz and promo shit were going to be sold to the rats.

Putting all this together, Kenpachi sat back, a watchful expression on his face as he waited for this little charade to unfold. Ikkaku, taking his lead from his Captain, cast one last confused glance towards the man, then sat back to observe as well.

The drug addled moron, wielding his .38 at the ceiling, barely knew what hit him as Matsumoto came flying over the bar, one hand braced for balance on the counter as she swung her body and legs over to kick him squarely in the temple, before landing gracefully on both feet. The man must have been dosed up on Methamphetamine's, because he had barely hit the ground before he was back up, charging at the woman – eyes wide and screaming insanely.

This time the strawberry blonde set her stance to basic hand to hand combat, and using a few lightning fast flicks of her fingers, hit various pressure points on his body, causing him to stop mid-charge and fall to the ground, groaning in undisguised agony. It was just pure luck that a police lieutenant from the seventh precinct, Iba Tetsuzaimon happened to walk through the door, hoping to score a last minute beer on his way home.

"Lieutenant, would you mind arresting this man? He just attempted an armed robbery of my business." That icy, calm voice belonged to Hitsugaya, who still refused to look up from counting the till. How long did it take to count, anyway? Kenpachi had a thought about that, but he let it slide. Matsumoto calmly walked back behind the bar and continued to clean her area, sneaking in the occasional Jaeger shot.

"If you could sling a beer my way, I'll take him right now," came the amorous reply. Iba wasn't known for his sobriety. A bottle came flying towards his head, but he caught it easily, and bent to the task of handcuffing the groaning man on the floor and collecting his weapon. With a small salute to Kenpachi and Ikkaku at the back of the room, and a cheeky wink towards Matsumoto, he left with his prisoner.

It was times like that which made Kenpachi realize just how much he had put into this city. The amount of security guards, cops, detectives, firemen and assassins he had personally trained over the years was equal to no other. His methods were bizarre – his results, unquestionable. He only allowed the best of the best to obtain a position of value in his city – no unworthy weakling would ever amount to anything but a traffic cop, if they couldn't pass basic training at The 11th Hour. Just like Iba had to.

"Captain!"

Kenpachi turned in his seat to focus on the fire headed man coming his way. He noted the tribal tattoos and crisp business suit, coupled with the extremely trendy sun glasses balanced precariously on his forehead. Renji Abarai, head of security to that Kuchiki princess, Byakua. What the hell was he doing here? Since his transfer from 11th Hour into high society private-protection, he generally stayed away from the lower class locales. Renji nodded in respect to his former boss, then took a seat to his left, raising his hand to get a beer from Rangiku.

"What're you doing here so late, Abarai?" Ikkaku asked, curious.

"Have you heard the news?" Renji asked suddenly, making Kenpachi look at him with narrowed eyes. "They're saying Sosuke Aizen is back in town. Apparently he's already started reforming old bonds and making… new friends." He took a quick swig from his drink and staring straight ahead, continued to tell Kenpachi all the finer details he had heard through his various connections.

The larger man took it all in slowly, absorbing the news with a hint of anger. Aizen was run out of town 3 years ago, by a joint task force of police, special forces and private groups – most of them trained by Kenpachi. A lot of good men died that year. The War (as they all privately called it) was a lot more involved and deadly than anyone actually knew. But that wasn't what made him snarl quietly…

"… and I got a text from Ichigo… apparently he's been asked to investigate the disappearances."

"Disappearances?" Rangiku placed a beer in front of Renji and waited to hear the rest of the news. Hitsugaya had stopped counting, staring at the till, but listening intently.

Fury began to bubble in the Captains stomach – a poison of aggression, frustration, envy and an old grudge. It wasn't just that Ichigo had been brought into this new Aizen problem… it was the fact that Aizen was the one Bounty that Kenpachi never cashed in... or killed. The slippery fuck had managed to evade him at every turn – even travelling illegally into the Sierra desert, to a sheltered location. That little adventure was still a fresh nightmare for him. To this day, he had an aversion to sand.

"Jailbreaks - but with no leads. A few mental asylum escapees. His old secretary - Momo? The tail she had on her from Komamura's division was found dead about three hours ago. She's gone." Hitsugaya noticeably tensed, hands clenching on the till.

But Renji wasn't quite finished, and it was the last note that had Kenpachi rising to his feet quicker than a man his size should have been able to:

"… there was also an attack by his people at Sereitei General today. Trying to get out one of his guys from the psych ward – you know, Gimmjow? Yeah, well apparently, someone was doing night duty on the floor and… Captain… Unohana is in emergency as we speak…"