Picar was fighting, fighting with boredom, a thing which she hated. As she was walking in the Menos Forest, looking for new preys, the prey had come to her as a deer ran towards a hunter; she had been surrounded by a group of five or four crazed-looking Shinigamis, and would have laughed if she'd had had the time to, for she thought the situation to be very comical indeed. Five so-called warriors dressed in black rags, yelling and charging at her with glinting eyes, as if they believed they would get out of this battle victorious!

The white scorpion, the Queen of the Menos Forest, had evolved from a "lowly", animal-like creature to a young teenage girl. Her skin was still as white as her previous appearance, and her limbs looked as thin and frail as she was fast and strong. A white mask covered a portion of her face, including one of her huge, round and deep violet eyes, and a part of her thick, pink hair, which floated around her little shoulders. She was dressed simply in a dust and sand-colored long cape to protect herself from the sharp winds of the Hollow world, with no visible armour. She didn't need one though; her short, thin and extremely sharp-bladed sword, which she held tightly in her hand at all times, was more than enough to fend off any potential enemy. Her only rule was to anticipate all attacks. Kill or be killed. She couldn't get more powerful if she was dead. So she cut down and buried everyone in her path. She was always the attacker.

Not this time, though. This time, the Shinigamis had actually attacked her first. She had sensed their reiatsu, but figured they weren't worth killing since they were all so weak and tired. She could tell that they weren't at their best. As she swatted them away with her sword, they were falling down one by one, helpless and, to her eyes, boring as hell.

"Be careful! She's right behind y-", one of them tried to alert his comrade, before collapsing himself on the dusty ground of the forest floor, completely limp.

Picar stared at the corpses around her. Numerous cuts riddled her arms and legs, but she didn't worry about them one bit. Her eyes held nothing but disdain in them. She waved her sword swiftly and turned away from them.

There was something just then.

She became as rigid as a statue. There was another presence. Someone had actually survived; surprisingly, she wasn't as upset as just amazed. Whoever the survivor was must be an interesting adversary. She turned around swiftly.

The black silhouette of a young-looking, red-haired Shinigami was laid on the forest floor. One of his legs was cut deeply, and blood poured freely from the large wound. He winced from the pain. His golden eyes looked tired and strained, but not completely dull yet. He still had some energy left in him.

"Well", Picar thought to herself, "if he has enough energy to live, then he has enough energy to fight". And with a smirk on her lips she narrowed her eyes and lifted her sword.

"My, my", she chided playfully to the fallen warrior. "What do we have here?"

The Shinigami glared hatefully at her. She saw his fingers curl tightly around his zanpaktou. He winced again, but bit back a gasp of pain as he lifted himself up on his feet again, his weight softly trembling on his bleeding leg.

"You will pay for what you did to them", he spoke, and his voice was strained. "I'll kill you with my own blade –even if I fail, my comrades will come for you soon".

Picar sneered and threw back the pink mane of her hair. This Shinigami was so naïve; it was almost cute how he believed so much in his little "friends".

"Your comrades will come soon?" she repeated in mock worry. "Well, then, I guess I better fall down to my knees and start begging for your forgiveness, don't I? How many of them are left, Shinigami? Judging by what feeble reiatsu I'm sensing, there shouldn't be more than one or two still able to fight, let alone bring me down. And do you really think I'll patiently wait for them to come find me? I'll get to them first".

The Shinigami tightened his hold on his puny weapon again. Picar raised her sword higher, preparing for battle herself. She took one step closer to her enemy. A little pool of blood had formed on the dirt underneath his feet.

"And I don't expect you to be able to kill me, either", she spat scornfully, all trace of a smile gone from her face. She tried to put all the hate and anger she could on her expression, right before she raised her blade high, high above her head. With one swift gesture, she then threw the point of the sharp blade into the ground, as hard as she could. The sword sank in, slowly, gracefully.

The delightful feeling of power came to her again, the one that always filled her during her Resurrecion. She was pretty sure she didn't need it to defeat the Shinigami, but she wanted more than to destroy him. She wanted to make him fear her, to the point that even a noble and dignified warrior such as himself would show his fear on his face.

When she opened her eyes again, the black and white colors were sharper, the wind colder, and the ground harder. Every one of her senses was heightened. Her lower legs were covered with armour of hard, white bone. It covered her back too, a shield of sharp, deadly spikes. Her pink mane had grown from her shoulders to her ankles, and it flowed freely around her like rose-colored flames. Along with her hands, huge but swift poisonous claws protruded from her wrists. Her sword had separated into two, ten-bladed knives.

Picar smirked again at the look of horror and amazement in the Shinigami eyes. The poor warrior swallowed with difficulty, but managed to keep a calm, steady voice as he asked:

"What… What is this?"

"This…" she gestured proudly to her white armour, "is my Resurrecion. Impressive, isn't it? You'll like it even better when it's ripping your soul to shreds".

The Shinigami furrowed his brows, and raised his zanpaktou.

"You do not scare me, Hollow", he spat with hatred. "You are the reason the human world and the Soul Society are in chaos. Today I will put you back in your place".

Picar let out a half-appreciative, half-sarcastic smile. Her violet eyes sparkled.

"Not bad for a lowly Shinigami", she recognized. "Well, then, show me what you've got".

The Shinigami scowled before charging at her, his sword clenched tightly in his fists.

Beatrice Picar was at her knees on the forest floor. Her hair stuck to her face, her legs and arms were riddled with even more cuts than before, but her smile was victorious and her knives were drawn. In front of her, the Shinigami was almost splayed flat on the forest floor, panting loudly. A large gash spread across his chest, tainting the black fabric of his Shinigami uniform with a crimson liquid. It had the shape of a flower, but Picar wouldn't have noticed it. She had never known flowers, after all.

The Shinigami coughed up blood again.

"Why… are you… not dead?" he spoke, in a voice that was barely even a whisper.

"Sorry… to disappoint you", Picar answered, her voice a little strained too, but her smile still in place and not one trace of worry in her mind. She knew she had won the battle. The fatal blow had been delivered a long time ago… before their little duel had even started, actually.

She raised herself to her feet. The cuts in her legs slowly started to heal themselves. Her "high-speed" regeneration was not very strong, compared to her other abilities. She couldn't have cared less about it, though; she didn't need the ability to regenerate.

"You see", she started explaining, "when you start a battle with me, it's already established you're gonna lose. Don't feel too bad, though; you've lasted pretty long compared to the others. Congratulations".

She walked over to him and gazed down at him. Her smile disappeared and was replaced by a solemn expression. She forced him to raise his chin up with the point of her sword, cutting shallowly into his skin and causing a few scarlet pearls to appear.

"The moment you cut into me, your death sentence is established", she continued. "The moment you inhale the scent of my blood, or come in contact with it, you are poisoned to your very core. It doesn't matter how much you inhale or touch; it is always fatal. The only possible cure would be a blood like my own… only thing is I'm a unique one."

Then she saw the expression she was waiting for on the Shinigami face. A look of despair, of hatred, of shame, of fear too.

"Of all the creatures I've fought, I actually respect you", she spoke softly and sincerely. "Tell me your name, Shinigami".

He looked at her blankly, then said:

"A… Ashid… Ashido".

He couldn't speak more; he coughed up a new flow of blood, and when he looked up at her, the hatred and anger was back in his eyes.

"Y… You poor… c-creature", he spoke with difficulty. "H… How I… I p-pity you."

His last word was spat, and out with it came a few drops of blood. Picar's eyes widened and she felt her own blood boil in her veins. Blind with rage and fury, she raised her sword again and struck him, again, and again, and again. Her arms and legs ached, and something stung horribly at the back of her eyes; her eyelashes felt strangely humid. She screamed as loudly as she could.

"I hate you! I hate you!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "Don't you pity me, you rotten Shinigami! Do you hear me, you stupid, noble bastard! I forbid you, and EVERYONE else, to pity me, you do not have this right, you do not have any reason to pity someone as powerful as me, do you hear me, you weak, good-for-nothing worms? I hate you! I hate you, and I pity you! I take back my words, it was a lie, I do not have one ounce of respect for you! You are not worthy of my respect, you are scum! Do you hear me, Shinigami?"

But he could not hear her anymore: his body lay across the dirt, lifeless and limp as a doll. If he was not dead yet, he would be very soon. And his "friends" would come search for him soon. She would not let them get to her first.

Picar set out to find the rest of the Shinigamis. She could not stop the rage inside her belly, the fury in her head, the fire in her veins. She would not let anyone ever utter those words to her again, never again.

But the voice of the fallen Shinigami kept sounding again and again in her head, and once again she saw those deep, tired, golden eyes and those hated words.

You poor creature. How I pity you.