This chapter was inspired by a burrito, so here you go
Sorry it took so long to update ._. but hey, it's a lot longer than usual. Forgive me?
WARNING: This is a graphic chapter. Lots of gore. I love gore -w- unfortunately I don't own any of the characters whom the gore belongs to ._.
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Chapter 5:
Finish Him!
Grimmjow paced back and forth furiously, hands clenched into powerful fists, his blue eyebrows furrowed. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, making his thoughts slow and sluggish, irritating him even more. He hadn't slept since running into Ichigo the first time in the alley the day before. They were back at the Hollows hangout at the ass crack of dawn, awaiting Aizen's orders. Surely, there would be orders. Aizen wouldn't allow someone to take what he had claimed as his. At least, that's what the blue haired gang banger was banking on. The whole gang was here, or at least most of it. Not everyone could make it on such short notice. Tension hung in the air like thunderclouds.
"Yer gunna wear a hole in the floor."
"Shut up, Jiruga." Grimmjow snarled. The tall bastard was leaning against a wall, watching while his fellow delinquent continued to pace.
"The berry is cute an' all but you knew him for what, two days? Get a fuckin' grip." Nnoitra mumbled under his breath. Grimmjow lunged at the taller man with no warning, pinning him to the wall, hands gripping the front of the white low cut v-neck the spoon was wearing.
"He might not even be alive damn it! Who fuckin' knows what those fuckin' Reapers are doin' to him?!" Grimmjow yelled, inches from Nnoitra's face, bearing his sharpened canines. The black haired man didn't so much as flinch, instead he narrowed his violet eyes and shoved his palms into Grimmjow's toned chest hard enough to send him flying.
"I said get a fuckin' grip! He means nothing ta us! He's just a pawn! He'll probably end up dead anyway, if he's not already!" Nnoitra yelled back, eyes blazing. Grimmjow froze in his efforts to right himself.
"Now now boys. This isn't the time to be fighting." Everyone's heads, except Grimmjow who's vacant eyes were still trained on Nnoitra, turned to Aizen, who had somehow managed to make it clear across the warehouse and to his throne without a single member noticing. He was sitting in his usual position, chin resting on his hand, a lazy yet amused smile resting on his face. This was one of the reasons he was top dog, unchallenged.
He'll probably end up dead anyway… probably end up dead… No… His berry couldn't end up dead. No. That would be impossible. That couldn't happen. Grimmjow wouldn't let it happen.
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'Why is my arm wet?'
'Oh god it hurts.'
'I can't see anything.'
'What's going on?'
'Where am I?'
Ichigo's muddled head spun as he attempted to sit up. Pain shot through his arm, making him gasp and fall back onto the futon he was laying on. He then realized that he was shirtless. With his good arm he patted himself down in a panic. Thank fuck, his pants were still there. The room was dark, too dark to be able to view his surroundings. Fatigue threatened to drag him under the cold surface of consciousness again, but he fought it off. Now wasn't the time for napping. He lay in the dark, his breathing shallow and irregular, attempting to figure things out. The last thing he remembered was the butt of a gun smashing into the back of his skull. With his uninjured arm, he slowly felt around his head. There was no blood, but he had a nice sized lump where he was hit with the gun. Next his hand traveled down his shoulder and arm to survey the damage there. Cooling liquid met his chilled fingers, and his clothes were encrusted with what he knew was blood. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the futon with a sigh. How was he going to get out of this mess?
"He's awake, boss." Lights flicked on in response to the mysterious, gruff voice. Ichigo was blinded for a moment, eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden bright intrusion. Once he was able to see properly again, the vision before him caused shocks of fear to assault his spine.
"Wh- who the hell are you?" One of the man standing over Ichigo was what he could only describe as a shark. His grin looked as if it was carved into his face with a knife, a dull knife. Maybe a spoon. His black eyes screamed blood lust, and they were currently trained on the berry. Even his hair was intimidating, spiked up and sharp.
"Ichigo, this is Kenpachi Zaraki." Ichigo's head snapped around to face the other man standing over him, his former boss, Urahara Kisuke. And he was smiling that goofy, idiotic, oblivious, assholish smile.
"You-" The ginger began, again attempting to sit up. Anger bubbled up in him and burned past the pain. This man lied to him, put him and probably quite a few others in danger, and thought nothing of it. He made it to his elbows before a huge hand slammed into his chest, successfully knocking the breath out of him and forcing him back onto the futon. Pain shot through his arm again, and it began throbbing. The hand belonged to the devilish 'Kenpachi.'
"Now now Ichigo-san, you need rest." Urahara said, a fan covering the grin on his face.
"What the fuck do you want? Let me go!" Ichigo snarled through gritted teeth. The fog in his mind was beginning to clear, uncovering the events of the previous night.
"Ah, I can't let you go yet Ichigo-san. You've gotten yourself in quite a bind here, don't you agree? I guess part of that is my fault… I should have told you about my gang affiliation. And, well, Renji may have made a bit of a mistake. But that's all in the past now, I'll get it all straightened out, don't you worry!" Urahara patted Ichigo on the head and grinned that cheesey grin, then motioned to someone in the hallway. A thin blonde man stepped forward, and with a shy smile at the berry, he pulled a syringe out of a box.
"What is that? What are you doing?!" The blonde edged toward Ichigo while Kenpachi pinned his arm to the bed. Ichigo was fit, but his strength didn't even compare to that of the sharks. The needle pinched through his skin and he could feel a cold liquid inject into his blood stream. The cold spread, making it difficult to move, difficult to breathe. His eyes sagged shut, and his body went limp. He couldn't move, and before everything went black, he could have sworn he felt his heart beat stop.
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"Thank you Kira- kun, you may go." The slim blonde man bowed and exited the room quickly at Urahara's dismissal. Izuru wasn't officially part of his gang, but he was a client of sorts. Many people asked the gang for protection from one thing or another, but a lot of them couldn't pay in cash. Izuru was one of the former, and also one of the few that Urahara would allow to pay in favors rather than money, with the promise of complete nondisclosure of course.
"So that's it eh?" Kenpachi asked, eyeing the limp berry lying on the futon in front of him.
"Yes. Do you mind taking care of the rest?" Urahara asked lightly, as if simply asking the man to take out the trash. The strange man always seemed cheerful, but Kenpachi could see past it by now. Urahara was stressed beyond belief, and rightly so after his subordinates major fuck up. But instead of agreeing, Kenpachi simply nodded and slung Ichigo's body over his shoulder. He headed out back to his car, threw the ginger into his trunk, and proceeded to drive off, headed for a previously disclosed location.
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Grimmjow slipped his custom brass knuckles into his back pocket of his cargo pants, and slid several knives of different shapes and sizes but of the same set into sheathes around his body. This was what he had used his allotted about of yen for, rather than a gun. He hated guns. Hated using them at least. Just as he finished strapping one to his thigh, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Be careful out there." Grimmjow turned to face Starrk and simply nodded in response as the older man passed by. He knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable that he refused to carry a gun, including Starrk. The man was like an older brother to many of the Espada, including the blue haired sexta, but he couldn't afford all this mushy stuff right now. He had to focus; Ichigo was counting on him to focus. Aizen's plan, which they had just finished the meeting for, was simple; Grimmjow would locate Ichigo and they storm the Reapers HQ. It was also very predictable. They knew that's what the Reapers expected them to do, so they had a team ready, made mostly of higher ranking Espada, to be ready for whatever came next. Originally Aizen wanted Grimmjow with the other Espada, waiting out most of the bloodshed for more of the tactical stuff because with Ulquiorra down, they were a member short, and Ulquiorra was a crucial part of the Espada, but Grimmjow wouldn't have it. He wouldn't simply watch as someone else saved Ichigo, or possibly shot him. Eventually their leader realized this and allowed Grimmjow to be on the front lines. A shudder ran down the blue delinquent's spine as he remembered what exactly had fueled his insistence on rescuing Ichigo himself.
"Gotta be the hero eh Grimmy-chan?" Grimmjow turned toward the all too familiar voice. Gin stood behind him, leaning against a wall with his hands in his pockets. They were about to head in to the meeting with Aizen, where the leader would divulge his plan to take back what was theirs. "Ya like 'im that much eh?"
"It's my fault he's in this mess. I should be the one to get him out." Grimmjow growled back, not even a bit surprised that Gin knew exactly what he was about to do.
"Neh, do ya really think this is yer fault?" The silver fox pushed himself off the wall and strode lazily toward the blue haired demon. "His boss is tha one who kept secrets from 'im, not ya. A course if ya don't get 'im out, someone else might. An' Aizen never said ta get 'im out alive did he?" Gin tilted his head, and opened his shocking blue eyes for a split second, making Grimmjow wonder if he had just imagined it, before the mysterious fox stalked away.
Gin had a point. Aizen never did specify that Ichigo was to be brought back alive. And it was very likely that if things got difficult, someone might decide it was easier to shoot the berry rather than rescue him.
Grimmjow shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to be unnerved. Focus. Focus. He slipped his arms into a short cut black leather jacket, a plain white tight fitting t-shirt underneath. Loose fitting black pants with plenty of pockets covered his legs, and black military boots adorned his feet.
"Alright boys, you know the plan. Let's get out there." Starrk wasn't one for motivational speeches, but then again they were in a gang, not a high school football team. Plus, just seeing Starrk fully awake and ready for a fight is motivation enough. Gangsters poured out of the warehouse like ants, calling and cheering and climbing into cars or onto motorcycles. Engines roared as Grimmjow hopped into the back of a black van that one of the lower Espada, Zommari, was driving. He glanced around at the people he had to work with. Zommari, Yammy, and Yylfordt were all here, prepping their guns. When he found Ichigo, these would be the people who covered him on the ground, while the higher Espada would be stationed on top of buildings surrounding the shop, ready for shit to go down. The roads were bumpy and the engine was loud, but the Hollows were silent, mostly grim expressions plastered on their faces. Except for Yammy, but Grimmjow supposed the brute was too stupid to really understand what was going on. Why Ulquiorra chose that mans company out of all the Hollows, Grimmjow couldn't understand.
Before Grimmjow knew it, they were pulling up to a building a few blocks from the Urahara Shoten. The van parked and shut off. The whole team was silent, and staring at Grimmjow, until he finally realized that as the highest ranking Hollow here, it was his job to give the orders. A shit eating grin spread itself across his face despite the sickening turning of his stomach. A smoke would be great right about now.
"Let's go, boys." He growled, his grin still in place. The four Hollows spilled out of the van and made their way on fairly quiet feet to the shop.
The lights were out in the Urahara Shoten, which wasn't that odd due to the fact that it was 4 in the morning. His team followed closely behind him, armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. Grimmjow made his way around the side of the shop, glancing in the windows. So far he spotted no orange hair, heard no muffled yelling or calls for help. It made him nervous. He continued to glance in the windows, searching for his berry, until he spotted something that sent chills down his back and made anger flare in his gut. On the floor of the Shoten in a crumpled, bloody heap, was Ichigo's t-shirt. Grimmjow's heart nearly stopped as he froze in place, Yammy nearly running into him because of the sudden halt. A growl built in the back of the blue haired demons throat. His cerulean blue eyes went from deeps pools of focus to daggers of glass.
"If they fuckin' hurt him…" Grimmjow whipped out his brass knuckles, smashing the window into a million shards that reflected his blue locks and dagger like eyes, and jumped through in one swift movement. The gangbanger crouched on the floor, Ichigo's shirt in one hand, looking every bit like a panther on the prowl. His team followed him in one by one. By now it was obvious that the shop was devoid of life, if any living being had been there they would have heard the breaking glass and heavy thud of booted feet.
His team split up and began searching the shop for the missing berry. Grimmjow, following his odd instincts, stood and slammed open a closet door across from him. There was a futon, soaked on one side in blood. An empty futon. Grimmjow's stomach dropped and squirmed.
"Those fuckers…" He growled under his breath, eyes ablaze like the blue heart of a scorching fire. "He's not here. Let's move out."
"But Grimmjo-" A blue glare over his shoulder shut Yammy up. The idiot was probably frustrated that no blood had been spilled. Yet. His head was spinning and anger continued to burn in his gut as he stood and led the team out of the Shoten, not even bothering to open the paper door. He slammed his booted foot into the wood frame, shattering it. His fellow gang members waiting outside, surrounding the shop in an intimidating force of manpower and firepower.
"He's not fuckin' here." Grimmjow snarled as he shoved through the crowed. Espada jumped from the tops of buildings to meet him and get the news, but he ignored them and kept walking. He would find that ass hole shop keeper and he would tear the blonde mans intestines out through that obnoxious mouth with his bare hands.
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"Grimm. What happened? Where's Ichigo?" Mizuki signed to him. She had caught up with the raging panther, elected by the Espada as the one he wouldn't harm physically. He sent a sideways glance at her.
"Do you think if I knew I'd fucking be here?" He growled. She jogged a little and began walking backwards in front of him, her single visible teal eye staring him down. Mizuki knew better than to try and stop him, everyone knew better than to touch him when he was in a rage, but that wouldn't stop her from trying to figure him out.
"You love him." She signed. It wasn't a question.
"I don't fuckin' love him damn it! It's my fault he's in this damn mess!" He snarled back, blue eyes searing into her teal one. After a few seconds she shook her head and took a place by his side. She could read people like none other, and it was obvious that he himself was unsure of his feelings even though everyone else could see them. They continued to walk side by side, though what they were looking for she didn't know. Certainly they wouldn't find the berry simply strolling around they alleys looking for them. The rest of the Espada trailed along at a safe distance, and the gang following behind them. Eventually, after they were out of Reaper territory, Starrk got up the nerve and jogged to catch up with the blue haired demon. Mizuki stepped back, far enough that she wasn't intruding but close enough that she could hear what was being said.
"We need a plan." Starrk said, simply.
"Well you got any ideas hidin' up your ass?" Grimmjow snapped. Starrk's cool grey eyes landed on his friend and fellow Espada. The primera Espada was just thinking up a good reply when a cackle was heard from behind them.
"Looky what we got here guys! A little spy!" Mizuki and the rest of the gang paused and turned. Shirosaki was standing there with someone in a headlock. That someone had familiar bright red hair. Grimmjow stalked past Mizuki, right up to the display in front of them.
"Let him go Shiro." Immediately the albino let the red head go with an ominous cackle. Grimmjow's boot connected with Renji's gut and sent him flying backwards. The blue haired demon sneered as he stalked over to where the Reaper was slouched against one of the building walls and grabbed a handful of those crimson locks.
"Where's Ichigo?" Grimmjow snarled, inches from Renji's face. In reaction the Reaper sneered and spat at the panther. Grimmjow quickly unsheathed a knife and held it to the Reapers neck.
"Ok ok he's about a mile from here! Jesus." Renji growled, pointing to his left. Without another word Grimmjow dropped the Reaper and began pushing through the crowd of Hollows in the direction the red head had pointed.
"Grimmjow, what do we do with him?" Shirosaki called, hope obviously ringing in his odd voice.
"You can have him." A truly maniacal cackle was heard from Shiro as Mizuki ran after the blue haired Hollow.
"Can we really trust what he says? What if there's an ambush waiting for us?" She signed quickly.
"There probably is, but we don't have anything else to go off of." He replied curtly. Screams of pure terror and pain erupted behind them, accompanied by vicious laughter, as if to foreshadow the coming events.
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About a mile from where they found the snooping Reaper, there was a clearing in the buildings. In the very center there were remnants of what used to be a beautiful fountain shaped like an angel, now graffiti covered and crumbling. The city stopped the upkeep after quickly learning that while it was neutral territory, it was still just as dangerous as gang territory. This circular clearing was old, surrounded by mostly wooden buildings and those that were stone were crumbling as the fountain was. The Hollows filed in, knowing full well what would happen next. They made a ring around the fountain facing outward, weapons ready. Having a full blown gang fight in broad daylight probably wasn't the best idea, but the thought crossed none of their minds as the Reapers stepped out of their hiding places in the shadows and ruins of buildings. The bastards were grinning as if they had the upper hand here.
"Where is Ichigo?" Grimmjow snarled from his place in the circle, meeting the eyes of any and every Reaper that had the guts to look at him. Laughter could be heard among the Reapers masses.
"All this for one little strawberry? You must really like 'im." Grimmjow's eyes fell on the speaker. He was a huge man, with a shark like grin on his face. He snarled at the intimidating man. The panther didn't care who he had to cut down, he would go through anyone to get his berry back.
Many would think that Grimmjow would be at a disadvantage without a gun. In fact, it would be difficult to convince them otherwise until they saw him fight. But that doesn't apply here, especially when the enemy doesn't have time to draw his gun before the blue demon descended upon them. No one really saw him close the gap between him and the opposing gang, but suddenly his knives were flying and he looked like a blazing blue panther, the fire in his eyes burning bright with rage and determination as he cut down Reaper after Reaper. White clothed gangsters met black as the battle began. Gunshots rang and blood spilled over the dust covered cement.
Grimmjow turned, pulling his favorite blade from a small, black haired, female's chest, scanning the crowd for his next victim. Leaning against a building was a cocky looking man lighting a smoke. He was large and slightly intimidating. Perfect. Grimmjow launched himself through the fighting mass to the bastard and slammed his foot into the large gut. The man dropped his cigarette and doubled over, scrambling for his gun. Before he could even find the handle, his neck was slit and flowing deep crimson. The lit cigarette rolled toward an old building, igniting the dry wood. Fire blazed behind him, spreading like a disease as he scanned the crowd again. He caught sight of Nnoitra beating the shit out of a spiky black haired Reaper with his bare fists. The punk looking guy had a 69 tattooed on his face. Grimmjow smirked. Shirosaki had caught up with them and was currently goring an unrecognizable body, looking like a child playing in the mud. Mizuki was perched on a building, using her honed sniping skills to cut down various Reapers. Hallibel crouched like a lioness, quickly finishing her victims off with a pistol. From what the blue haired demon could see, all the Hollow's had to worry about was the higher up Reapers, the ones they called captains. One with long black hair and an even expression was cutting lower Hollows down with an old fashioned katana. Another, the larger man who had taunted Grimmjow earlier, was crushing skulls, literally, with his bare hands. He turned and signaled to Mizuki, pointing the large bastard out. She nodded and aimed. Grimmjow didn't get to see if she got the shot, because a fist connected with the back of his skull. He stumbled forward and spun on his attacker, knives drawn. In his surprise at who stood behind him, he hesitated. It was a woman, with rather large endowments and orange hair. She stood next to a child with white hair. What kind of people did these fucking Reapers take in? Before he would react, there was a hand on his shoulder.
"Now now Rangiku-chan, is 2 on 1 really fair?" Gin Ichimaru stood behind him, that ever present grin made that much more creepy by the bloody atmosphere and cries of pain surrounding them.
"Traitor." The white haired kid glared daggers at Gin with his ice blue eyes. The ginger chick looked like her heart was being torn out of her chest.
"Neh, I was never a traitor. Ya see, I've always been a Hollow. I was just undercover. Now now Rangiku-chan, you didn't actually think my feelings for you were real?" The ginger was trying her best not to cry as she whipped out a gun and pointed it an Gin's chest. Her finger flexed, ready to pull the trigger, when suddenly blood splattered everywhere and she crumpled to the ground. Grimmjow turned and looked up, spotting Mizuki with her sniper rifle aimed in the gingers direction. He cackled as she signed. "What? He's mine." To him. Smoke was filling the clearing, making it difficult to see and even more difficult to breathe.
"Grimmjow." A gruff voice called over the gunshots surrounding them. It was oddly strained in a way that caused his stomach to twist with dread as he slowly turned toward where Starrk's voice had come from. Next to a kneeling Starrk, among the rubble and ash lay a large black bad that Grimmjow was all too familiar with. His mouth felt as dry as a desert as he ran to Sarrk's side, leaving the white haired kid to Gin. The bag was unzipped enough to reveal a face. Laying in a body bag was a slim, pale figure with bright orange hair. Those once gorgeous golden caramel eyes were half lidded and glazed over, lifeless. Grimmjow reached out with a trembling hand, gently caressing the smooth skin of his berry's face with his fingertips, as if he might press too hard and Ichigo would shatter. The blue haired gangster's breath came out uneven and rattling. A constricting feeling overwhelmed him making his heart struggle to beat and his lungs struggle to draw breath. His vision narrowed until all he saw was his sweet berry. He heard none of the gunshots or cries of pain around him. He didn't feel the blaze of fire or the adrenaline lit atmosphere. He didn't feel his fellow Hollows' eyes trained on him with mixtures of pity and anger shining in their eyes. He didn't feel it when Starrk left his side to rejoin the raging battle around them. He felt numb, cold, dead. He didn't hear his own hoarse cry of pain as he squeezed his eyes shut, the image before him too painful to look at. "He'll probably end up dead anyway!" Nnoitra's words rung through his head. The lanky bastard had been right. And it was all Grimmjow's fault. If I had never intervened, if I had left Ichigo alone, this wouldn't have happened.
"You're probably right." The voice startled Grimmjow and he whipped out a knife from a sheathe on his calf. Before him stood a man dressed in green and white, a hat stripped with the colours shadowing his eyes and a cane in his hand. The blue haired gang banger must have accidently voiced his thoughts, but right now he couldn't care less. He lunged at the leader of the Reapers, intent to kill gleaming in his eyes. He slashed for Urahara's throat, only to have his knife blocked by the man's cane.
"You worthless bastard." Grimmjow hissed, inches from Urahara's face, his voice coming out hoarse and saturated with anger covered in pain.
"Don't worry, Grimmjow-kun. Ichigo isn't in any pain." Urahara seemingly taunted.
"Of course he isn't! He's fucking dead!" Grimmjow yelled as he took another swing at the shop keeper. Rage ignited all over again in Grimmjow as he watched an amused smile slide over his opponents face. With his free hand he whipped the knife at his hip out, using the cruel curved blade to slash at the creeps side. His knife barely made contact with flesh before the man had pulled a sword out from his cane and slashed across Grimmjow's chest. Blood erupted from the wound, coating his jacking and ripping his white shirt to shreds and the blue haired demon collapsed on the ground, feet from where his lover lay. Darkness began to engulf his vision as he strained his fingertips toward the orange blur next to him, every molecule in his body wishing to caress that smooth face on last time.
"How sweet." Grimmjow heard before everything went dark.
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Hmmm…. Should I just leave it here? How mad would you guys be if I did that? Hehe…
Review and tell me what you think!