This story is officially finished and will be updating weekly until the last chapter is posted. It will be seven chapters long

Enjoy!

They'd talked through the entire evening and most of the night while Ichigo repaired his android. Ichigo, having lived in near isolation since taking up residence in the multi-story building years ago, had forgotten what it was like to have another person to keep company with. Sure, he spoke to Shiro often enough and Shiro was exceptionally realistic, but the android was still learning, repeating things already heard more than actually forming its own thoughts. It'd get there, Ichigo believed, as its intuitive AI learned to navigate social behaviors and cues. But for now, Shiro wasn't a substitute for human interaction and Ichigo's paranoia, well deserved as it was, had kept him from truly rejoining the world. He didn't have friends, his family was dead. He knew rumors had long since run their course, about a survivor from all those years ago, about a child who made it out, who was pronounced dead on the scene only to be resuscitated in the back of an ambulance. But there were very few people who actually knew it to be fact. Even of those few, none knew him by his proper name, and none of them had any social or political standing. They were average, everyday people, people he called on for basic tasks he needed help with; grocery delivery, the occasional odd job around the house that was too big for a single man, let alone one more or less bound to a wheelchair. One was a neighbor, another a hired handyman. He was personable enough with them during their rare visits, and he always compensated them for their generosity, but he made no effort to connect with them. It was safer for them that way, and easier for him.

Contrastingly, Grimmjow was, ichigo knew, being friendly on purpose. Whenever the conversation stalled, whenever Ichigo lost himself in his work, the man would find a way to get him talking again. He'd ask questions, he'd change subjects, he'd talk about himself, but never anything too personal, only ever things Ichigo might be able to relate to, only things that could be sympathized with. He spoke about his early childhood, holidays and birthdays with a single parent, but avoided saying anything about his later teens, when a boy should have been in his last years of school.

Ichigo knew as well that there was a reason behind it. He doubted very much that this man, dragged against his will into a stranger's basement, was this talkative and freely friendly normally. No, Ichigo knew Grimmjow was buying time. The man knew his life hung in the balance, awaiting Ichigo's decision like an executioner's axe, and so he was doing what he could to swing the vote in his favor.

All the carefully selected memories he shared and questions he asked were meant to paint a picture, meant to give Ichigo a sense of having known the man. It was harder to kill someone you felt you knew, even if you had an android to do the dirty work and keep your hands clean. Ichigo understood all of this, and he couldn't blame the man.

And it worked.

Ichigo, long into the night, sent him on his way with the very real warning that if Ichigo so much as got paranoid that Grimmjow might have told his pet cat that Ichigo was alive, he'd send Shiro to find him. It didn't matter that he didn't know where Grimmjow called home; he'd send Shiro to scour the city. He'd find all of Grimmjow's haunts, where he worked, who he spoke to, what time he ate, his favorite shitty take out place. He'd find him and he wouldn't stop Shiro from brutally murdering him this time. The android had grinned, the expression uncanny; too real and yet lifeless all the same.

With the early morning sun bleeding color into the sky, Ichigo called it a night. He gestured the android off the table after the last bolt was replaced and the scalp and hair were molded back over bare, cold steel. "Help me back into my chair." He instructed, stiff and wincing as he rested a flat palm against the table, leaning his weight into it. He knew he'd regret pushing his limits in the morning. Hell, he already did, but Shiro had needed work and he hadn't wanted to seem weak around the stranger. Fire ebbed and flared up and down his spine and across his hips. The mock of an ache settled in his knees and he pushed out an annoyed hiss of air, trying to ignore it even as it stole most of his attention.

Shiro positioned the chair, then took its creator's arm and guided him down into it, unmindful of the pained harshness of the grip around its wrist. For all that the android was created to destroy, to be more than human and still capable of all the terrible things humans could do, it was surprisingly adept at controlling that artificial strength, as it compensated for Ichigo's weight and lack of mobility.

It took him a long moment to actually relax back into the chair, willing the stiffness from himself before he bent forward to pull his legs into place and unwind the braces from around his limbs. They clicked into place against the chair and the hum of energy that gave him the ability to stand quieted. He looked up to Shiro, shaking his head as the android looked back down at him. "Why did you let me do that?"

The android stared at him for a moment, then glanced toward the foot of the stairs that were rarely used, and until now, only by it, as if searching for the social cues needed to figure out what Ichigo was asking it. Then it shrugged in a gesture Ichigo had never seen it preform before. "I could retrieve him still."

Ichigo sighed, "No, I went out of my way to make sure you didn't kill him. We'll see what happens first." but the hint of a smirk worked across his lips. "You're learning, Shiro. Maybe exposing you to someone else was good for you."

The android blinked, then frowned and crossed its arms over its chest.

Ichigo laughed, waving it toward the far end of the room. "Good night, Shiro."

Taking the command, Shiro walked over to the cradle, turning to back itself into it and stepping up into the formfitting shape that nestled around the android when it was at rest. "G'night." It responded, leaning its head back in place. The censors that lined up with its spine let out little static charges as they were activated and the display on the cradle began running lines of code. Shiro didn't necessarily need to close its eyes, but it usually did when at rest; an odd affectation to be sure.

Using a hand to push one wheel of his chair, Ichigo frowned about the odd shortening of the android's words as he turned his chair to head in the opposite direction of the cradle. "Seems there's still something wrong with your speech center." He said as much to himself as the android, "It'll have to wait until I get some sleep." The cradle would have any errors found and assessed by then, and with any luck, it'd be a simple fix.

A lift he'd built into the basement, which was manually operated with a crank, took him to the next floor up, where he wheeled himself down a hallway. At one end was the master bedroom and two other bedrooms, both of which sat empty, the doors pulled closed and the rooms left to collect dust. The other end of the hall opened up into a larger space, with a sitting area, dining room, the kitchen and a front foyer. Those spaces were mostly empty as well, containing the bare minimum furniture and necessities to make the house functional for him. There was a couch that sat just a little lower than average, making it easier for him to use, and a television he wasn't even sure actually worked. The kitchen was mostly furnished, but he rarely cooked. The front door, which opened out onto a wide porch, part of which had to be knocked down and rebuilt by his handyman to accommodate a ramp, was the oddest part of the whole space. Four locks and an alarm system adorned it, all set low enough for Ichigo to reach.

The wooden floor underfoot creaked, radiating the coolness in the air. The walls were bare, picture-less. The house could have been mistaken for unoccupied, if it weren't for the bedroom and the basement, and of course the stock of food in the kitchen. The basement was by far the most personalized of the spaces Ichigo used. All his work was down there, schematics for projects and various buildings around the city, plans, diagrams and drawings, handwritten fragments of code and math equations, all hidden from view. All his time was spent there, working, building, improving and rebuilding, moving the chess pieces that were within his reach as he wielded Shiro like a weapon.

He spent the next few days trying to figure out what was going on with Shiro's speech center, to no avail. At one point, he even laid the android back out and opened it up again, unhooking the new speech processor to be sure it wasn't faulty somehow, but no, Shiro's hardware was fine. The output ran smoothly, and neither the cradle nor Ichigo could find any flaws in the android's code that might produce such an error. In fact, an error wasn't even being thrown up. After days of frustration over it, Ichigo decided it must just have been a quirk belonging to the android's developing personality. He considered reworking some of the code to see if he could manually correct it, but decided it wouldn't really be fair of him to expect the AI to build its own personality just for him to decide what was acceptable and what wasn't, especially with something so harmless. He'd just have to get used to it. It was unexpected, but not all that worrying and maybe a little fascinating, even.

It was about a week later that Ichigo finally sent Shiro back out, more or less content that Grimmjow hadn't and wasn't going to say anything to anyone. He still didn't really trust the man, but surely if he was going to talk, he would have by now. Ichigo had his place on lock down and he'd seen nothing concerning.

"All right, Shiro." He said, leaning back in his chair. Arrayed on the screen in front of him, various still images of a dockside warehouse were arranged, enlarged so that he could better see what the android was seeing. This was their first stealth mission. Well, not Ichigo's first, but the first time he'd tried something stealthy with this particular android. He'd built Shiro with fast reactions and strength in mind, and it excelled in that thus far, but in theory, the android should have been capable of this all the same. "Begin mute communications protocol."

There was a pause, where the live feed on the screen tilted slightly and Ichigo realized a bit belatedly that the android had tilted its head as if contemplating the command, before a single word scrawled across the screen in dull gold coloring; CONFIRMED.

Ichigo smirked, pleased.

The android still had the ability to speak and produce sounds, but its programing was working correctly, allowing it to shift between verbal and nonverbal responses as Ichigo wished, while still communicating effectively with its operator. It had never been tested before, but Ichigo suspected that, given sufficient reasoning, Shiro would be able to override the command and speak freely even under mute protocol.

"Great. Remember, the mission is to gain intel. Focus on names, places and dates. Avoid detection."

The android didn't respond, verbally or otherwise, but Ichigo watched the feed as Shiro began moving forward, skirting the large, metal building as it closed in on an opening. A steady, wintery drizzle made a white noise in the background and the occasional gust of wind from the sea whistled between buildings. Pale, metallic hands lifted into view, gripping around the frame of a small window set high in the wall. Those fingers dug under the edge of the frame, then hooked and began pulling, bending the corrugated steel away. It groaned quietly under the steady pressure, but it wasn't long before the android was able to get to the edges of the glass itself. It took the android some jockeying to figure out how to get the entire panel of glass and its accompanying casing out without breaking it and making too much noise, but it managed. Tugging the window, frame and all, free, Shiro lowered it carefully to the ground, leaning it against the building, then straightened to again wrap fingers around the metal of the building. It effortlessly began pulling its weight up in slow, steady increments until it could peer over the edge and into the building.

Ichigo leaned forward in his chair, watching as the feed panned from one side of the visible space to the other in a quick scan. The space was large and open. A loosely organized collection of boxes and wooden crates took up one side and Ichigo was just about to tell the android to use them for cover when Shiro began moving again, lifting itself higher to begin slipping into the warehouse. It was a bit of tricky maneuvering, since the window was small and higher than the android was tall, but Shiro managed to get through, dropping noiselessly to the solid, concrete floor on the other side. The noise of the wind ceased, but the rain pattered against the metal roof.

After what happened during the last mission -ending up with a civilian in his basement- Ichigo was wary to split his attention between his own work and what Shiro was doing. The android was more than capable of handling this sort of work, he was confident, but Shiro didn't have a moral code and Ichigo's wouldn't allow for innocent casualties if they could be avoided. But more people discovering him and his whereabouts was out of the question as well. He sighed a deep breath, leaning back in his chair again, absently fiddling with a cold soldering pen.

It wasn't long before a person came into view, pulling open a door beside the loading bay. The overhead lights flipped on and the feed's brightness flared momentarily as Shiro's vision adjusted.

"Oh." Ichigo muttered, scowling at the screen. "That's one of Aizen's higher paid guys."

The purpose of this particular run was to figure out where to go next. It couldn't stay secret forever that someone was picking off members of one of the most dangerous organizations in the city. Sooner or later, if it hadn't happened already, someone would see the pattern. He needed all the information on where and when these meetings and business dealings were occurring he could get so that he could continue whittling down the canon fodder and get to the head of the snake. But finding his android alone in a metal building with someone so high on the totem pole was tempting. It could be an opportunity to deal a blow that would surely be felt.

While he was debating, however, the door opened again and in stepped a shorter man, escorted by half a dozen thugs. It still wasn't a situation outside of Shiro's abilities to handle, but it gave Ichigo pause, letting him weigh pros and cons, before deciding to stick with the original plan.

To his surprise, the smaller one was addressed with a title that Ichigo knew to be a fairly high rank, and he wondered why the muscle was needed. Must have been new and untested, he decided, "And not trusted." For good reason, though not the reason they thought. Duties were being handed out, giving the newcomer his first chance to prove himself, but Ichigo planned to make it a bad experience.

Still, he was fairly certain that the core ten members of the organization didn't change hands often. He'd been digging into them for years, researching, pulling up every news article, every interview or public appearance Aizen and his men had made. Not all the members had showed up in his research, true, but there were enough rumors and mentions of ten for him to think it a safe bet. It seemed Aizen had favorites. Members one through four were fairly common to see around the man himself, known only by their numbers, while the rest were kept mostly in the shadows, presumably so they could do the more shady work that Aizen wanted to keep hidden. So it was true that he'd never seen Six's face, but amongst all his research, going back to the years before his family was murdered, he'd never found evidence that a title was passed on to someone new.

"Losing members, are you?" He mused to himself, watching the screen.

Eventually, when the meetup seemed to be coming to an end, Ichigo instructed his android to extract itself at the first opportunity it got, hands flat against the arms of his chair to push himself up higher, stretching his back and shoulders. For all that he'd gotten used to about being in a wheel chair, there were still times when he grew restless and discontent with it. It's what had led him to dabbling in robotics in the first place. He wanted a better way to get around, wanted to walk again, and medical science wasn't providing any answers. The brace he'd built himself was old as far as his creations went; older than Shiro by far.

Satisfied as he was with his newest android, he'd decided to go back to the brace's design and improve on it. His goals and missions would be that much easier to obtain if he could feasibly participate in a more hands-on way. That was being optimistic, though. In the mean time, he'd be happy to have a brace that let him more comfortably work on his android. No doubt, once they started working their way higher on the chain that was Aizen's organization, Shiro would take more serious damage and need more labor intensive work.

Waiting for his android to complete what he was sure would be a boring return journey, Ichigo pushed away from his desk and monitors, to bend over his lowered work able. A new, better version of his brace had been laid out earlier in the day. The components to it, at any rate. Rounded metal bands, sturdy hinges, wires and switches and bolts, washers and screws were all scattered about the stainless steel surface in a loosely arrayed skeleton of what the brace itself would like like once put together, but he hadn't gotten that far on this newest attempt. It was an important project, but it took backseat to the mission he used Shiro for.

When the sound of the door on the floor above reached him, he paused, smiled a bit, and went back to work, a soldering pen in hand and a respirator mask over his mouth and nose. He made a mental note to praise the android for a job well done once he got down to the basement.

The thought was wiped away, of course, when the sound of angry shouting reached him.

"Put me down, you piece of metal shit!"

The sounds of struggling, of lashing out and kicking, reached down the upstairs hallway and floated almost gently down the stairs to reach Ichigo in his workshop. He set the hot iron down, tugging the mask down to hang around his neck as he turned his chair to face the staircase, brows arched over a surprised, but not too surprised, expression. That deep voice was, unfortunately, familiar.

"I swear- Robot, put me the fuck dow-" There was a startled yelp that cut off the furious demands, then a heavy thud that shuddered the old, wooden staircase and Grimmjow came tumbling into view, hitting the bottom step at an awkward angle and sliding across the floor in an ungraceful heap. He hissed a breath through clenched teeth as he came to a stop not more than two meters from Ichigo's feet. He wrapped his arm over his chest to clench his hand against what was left of his other arm, jaw tight, and half rolled onto his side before he began pulling himself together enough to look around, anger flashing in blue eyes. "You fuckin'-"

"What the hell, Shiro?!" Ichigo's fingers were a white knuckled grip around the wheels of his chair as the android casually walked down the stairs behind the man he'd just tossed.

"He said," The android's mouth moved, but instead of its own voice, it replayed Grimmjow's exact words, "-put me the fuck down-". For an android still learning the finer points of being alive, Shiro looked rather smug with itself.

"I didn't mean throw me down the goddamn stairs!"

"I didn't mean that." Again, Ichigo spoke over the bigger man slowly picking himself up off his floor, "Why is he here? Again? And don't you dare learn that word."

"What?" Grimmjow's voice was a shocked hiss as his head snapped around to glare at Ichigo. "You don't even care he just threw a person down the stairs?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, but as Grimmjow climbed to his feet, he edged himself back another foot or two. "Its designed to kill people, I'm not surprised you got a violent interpretation of what you were asking for."

"I didn't ask to be thrown down a flight of fuckin' stairs! I didn't ask to be brought here at all!" Grimmjow threw up his hand, the gesture angry and exasperated. It was aggressive enough to earn the android's attention. Suddenly, Grimmjow found himself pressed hard against the wall, coughing as the air was shoved from his lungs and the android's strength was enough to make his ribs creak. His lone hand clutched at the android, trying in vain to push it off of him. He could barely draw breath, so hard was he being held against the cool wall behind him, a cold forearm pressed to his throat, but he sneered down at the android, the sharp look in his eyes betraying some of the nervous wariness trickling down his spine.

"Ok, ok-!" Ichigo half reached out to his android, but didn't actually come closer. "Shiro, stand down."

Shiro's head turned as it glanced over at its creator, but didn't move just yet. "He threatened you."

"He didn't mean it, and he wont do it again. Will you, Grimmjow?"

Sneer still baring white teeth, the man shook his head, wheezing out his sarcastic agreement, "No, I was dragged here against my will in peace." He even released the android to hold up his hand in surrender.

Gold eyes narrowed, but the android backed off.

Finally able to draw a full breath, Grimmjow coughed again, sagging away from the wall before he sidestepped the android wearily. "Asshole." He muttered under his breath. All the damn thing did in response was tilt its head, still watching him. Grimmjow scowled in response, then turned his attention towards the creator of the robot. "Why am I here?"

"That's an exceptional question." Ichigo drawled, clearly as unhappy with this situation as Grimmjow was. Brown eyes coasted over to the android. "Shiro? Care to tell us?"

Shiro arched pale brows in a surprisingly decent parody of being innocent in all this. Its answer was a simple, "Witness." It gestured towards Grimmjow, "Protocol overrode to spare the witness."

"Why the fuck-?"

"Shut up." Ichigo snapped absently, holding a staying hand out to Grimmjow and still looking at his android. "Right, Shiro, but why is he here this time? There's no way you're glitching hard enough to seek him out without command."

The android frowned, head cocking slightly, and looked from Ichigo, to Grimmjow and back again. "Witness." It repeated. "Protocol overrode-"

"Yes, yes," Ichigo said, frustration starting to show in his voice. "I understand that. He was a witness last time you brought him here, a civilian witness, right?" He waited until the android nodded its agreement, "So why is he here this time? Why do you think he's still a witness? We cleared it up, we let him go, remember?"

"Right…" Grimmjow drawled, eyeing the two of them. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll get the hell out of here before your psycho bot comes after me again. It was creepy the first time, it's mildly terrifying this time."

Ichigo sighed, scrubbing a hand down his features. "Shiro, move out of the way." He shooed the android aside. Shiro seemed reluctant to let the stranger pass, but moved anyway, putting itself nearer Ichigo while leaving the stairwell clear. Ichigo turned his attention back to Grimmjow, "I'm sorry, I really have no idea what's going on. I'll get it worked out, this wont happen again."

"God, I hope not." Grimmjow said lowly, hesitating for a moment. His attention traveled the android, before landing back on Ichigo. With a slight nod, he turned and started up the stairs, "I'll see myself out again."

"For what it's worth, be safe going home." Ichigo called up the stairs after him. He listened to the footsteps moving upward. The second from the top step creaked louder than the rest. If he used the stairs, he might be interested in figuring out why and fixing it, but he didn't, and Shiro wasn't likely to get hurt if it fell through or tripped. When he was sure Grimmjow was gone, he turned back to his android to give it a withering look. "This is not helping us." He told it, almost feeling bad when Shiro's features fell into another frown. He shook his head, "Never mind. It's hardly your fault. There's bound to be a few kinks to work out in your programming. You did well on the mission."

He maneuvered back to the table, pulling the mask back into place, and started working again.

What he didn't know was that, while he'd been working and Shiro had extricated itself from the area around the warehouse, the android had again run into Grimmjow in the streets. It hadn't sought the man out. Grimmjow had crossed a street and nearly run face first into the android as it had rounded a corner to exit an alley. An annoyed curse had left his mouth just before blue eyes panned up from the dirty sidewalk to see who he'd collided with, only for Grimmjow to freeze with the shock of recognition. His eyes had shifted over the android's shoulder, to the warehouse not so far away, the warehouse he'd been headed toward, and back to the android.

"Fuck-"

WITNESS. But the android had still been on mute, and the word had scrolled unseen upon the screen Ichigo wasn't paying attention to at that point. It wasn't entirely unlikely that Ichigo had heard Grimmjow over the feed, but it was a noisy city, bustling with cars and foot traffic, the howling winds and bitter rain that came with winter. Preoccupied with his work, Ichigo hadn't noticed the familiar voice. And, still in stealth mode for its mission, Shiro had made sure it was the last sound Grimmjow was able to make at full volume.

Grimmjow couldn't match the android's inhuman strength and with only one arm, he couldn't wrestle his way free, nor pull the hand clamped around his lower face and jaw loose. He was dragged from the street, a cold, metal forearm digging against his throat and cutting his air off. He struggled most of the way, until they got to a section of the city he recognized and he began to realize where he was being taken. Some part of him calmed down then, knowing that he'd not only end up in a place he'd been before, but face to face with a person and not trying to deal with this machine. He'd calmed himself down long enough to hope that the android would slacken its grip and maybe be lulled into thinking he was done. But he'd been wrong, and when he'd lashed out again with renewed energy, the damn thing had simply pulled him off his feet entirely to carry him into the house.

So here he was, storming back out of that damn house and away from its damn killer robot and the damn creator of said robot. He tugged his heavy coat tight around him, but had to let it fall back open to pull the hood up when the light drizzle became a full on rain. Zipping it seemed like the logical choice, but it wasn't so easy when he only had one hand. He was still getting used to that. With the hood up, he tugged the coat snug around him again, hunkering down to stay as warm and dry as he could manage.

He'd debated it at least a dozen times in the passed week; whether or not to talk. Outing the Kurosaki heir's secret might get him a free pass, might clear his debt. And hell, while Aizen and his men were storming the old house, that android would surely take down at least a few, maybe even Aizen himself. It'd be a win/win, really.

But that bastard had taken his arm. He wanted Aizen dead more than he wanted his slate wiped clean. Only one name, out of the thousands in the city, came to mind in his search for who else might want that. It was enough to keep him quiet, despite twice being abducted.

At the moment, however, he may have had bigger things to worry about. He was late, but he had the money and he was a smooth talker when he needed to be. Getting back to the docks took some time, insuring he was thoroughly drenched and shivering by the time he could smell the sea.

He hesitated just outside the chainlink gate, eyeing the front of the warehouse. The vehicles were all still parked in the gravel lot, the loading door still rolled shut. If he'd gotten there ten minutes earlier than he had, he probably would have already been inside when the android had showed up. And he was certain the android had been at the warehouse and not simply in the area. It was too dead on, too well timed to be coincidence that he'd run into it just around the block. Kurosaki and his pet were stalking Aizen's men like hunting cats. They weren't there to make friends, and he'd seen the robot in action the week prior. For all Grimmjow knew, the inside of the warehouse was a bloody mess. Not being in a hurry to his meeting might have saved his life.

Gravel crunched underfoot as he stepped forward, shouldering the rolling vehicle gate open enough to fit through. He didn't bother pulling it shut behind him, expecting to poke his head in, see blood, and hightail it out before someone else found the mess and called the police, or worse, Aizen.

He traversed the short lot with a wary tenseness, glancing around at his surroundings, the vehicles parked off to one side in a neat row, the slimy puddles that rippled with raindrops lining one side of the drive. All looked to be in order and, as he laid a hand against the door and gave a careful, almost cautious push, he heard voices. A scowl instantly lined his features, something like disappointment bubbling in his gut instead of the relief he should have felt.

"Fuck." He muttered under his breath, not for the first time that evening, and pushed the door open wider to step through. All eyes turned on him and a sneer curled his lip for a split second, before he affixed his expression into something more neutral, edging on boredom, and took in the person he was there to see and the lackeys accompanying him. He took note of the extra muscle and realized there must have been more business going on than he'd expected.

"You're late." Came an annoying voice that held an obvious, toothy grin.

He ground his teeth in the effort not to growl. "Yeah. Well. Can't really use my car anymore, ya know, need two hands for driving stick. Took longer to get across the city than I thought it would." That sounded believable, right? "Can we get this over with? I don't wanna stand around here any longer than you do."

"Yeah yeah, don't get yer panties in a twist. How much you got?"

The warehouse was dry on the inside, but the winter air was still cool. It sent a shiver down his spine as his coat fell open. He dug around in an inside pocket, producing a damp, unmarked envelope. He handed it over, "A quarter, like agreed."

The man took a gangly step forward, reaching out to accept it. Opening the envelope, he flipped through the cash briefly, before a lone eye redirected up at Grimmjow. "Not short?"

Grimmjow hated this man. Loan sharks were bad enough, they were even worse when it came time to pay them back, especially when you used to work with them. "No, asshole, it's not short."

The envelope was folded in half and pocketed. "I believe ya." The man grinned over-wide and dropped a hand onto Grimmjow's shoulder, squeezing with just enough pressure to earn a subtle wince. "Besides, I know exactly where to find you if it is." He laughed like it was his funniest joke yet, pulling his hand away, and strode passed Grimmjow to head for the door. "I like you more than the new Sexta, hurry and get this shit paid off so we can dispose of the little shit."

As much as he hated this man, as much as he hated Aizen and all his espada, that was almost flattering. "Touch me again, Nnoi, and I'll string you up just like I'm gonna do to that bitch." His shoulder and what was left of his arm throbbed a dull ache in this cold. A strained, controlled breath hissed through his teeth as he rubbed at it. "Maybe I'll gut the both of you, rob you blind, and move somewhere warm."

Nnoitra cackled, head thrown back. "Atta boy." He threw the door wide and stepped out into the rain.

"So you met my placeholder?"

"Placeholder, hah! Sure did, maybe twenty minutes ago. Wasn't that impressed."

Grimmjow pulled his coat tight again, shifting to half face the tall man, shoulders hunched in the drizzle. "You tell him I'm comin' for him?"

"Nah, figured I'd leave it a surprise. Hope I'm there to see it."

A grin finally spread across Grimmjow's face. "What a pal. Keep your eye peeled, it wont be long." He said, eyes bright in the gloom of an overcast winter day. It didn't last. Something behind Nnoitra glinted, wet and shining, that froze him in his tracks. A window, but instead of mounted high in the wall of the warehouse like it should have been, it was laid on the ground, leaned at an angle against the wall. He yanked his attention off it, laughing at the joke about his debt that he only half heard. "Yeah, lucky you." He replied, trying not to let his sudden startlement show in his voice. He'd have to come back after dark and put that window back, except he already knew that with only one arm he'd never be able to get it in place and steady. So instead, maybe he'd carry it inside and break it so it looked like the glass had been shattered from the outside. The frame would be a lot lighter and easier to manage then. It'd look like some punk had broken in after dark. Good enough. Better than them realizing they'd had unwanted company during business.

He turned from the warehouse, muttering an excuse about wanting to get home and out of the rain to cut the conversation short and shoo the loan shark back to his car. In his head, he vowed to rub it in Kurosaki's face that he was already covering his tracks for him.

Thanks for reading :)

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