The bottom blade of a scythe in the shape of two crescent moons back-to-back drug behind him, cutting a deep thin trail through the sands. Nnoitra's black hair swayed with each step, his long legs carrying him in the direction of his palace. He found himself for once somewhat happy. That damned woman Neliel who somehow outranked him was off his back at the moment, too distracted by the experiment as most of the Espada were. In other words, she was off his back.

He smiled, lips pulling back to reveal his seemingly too-large teeth. Soon, he'd be rid of her for good. That was, if Szayel kept his damned word. It seemed the mad scientist was willing to do anything to earn his placement back among the Espada, and as long as he helped get rid of Nel, Nnoitra had no problem lending him a hand with that. Surely, what Szayel was working on in secret would be as weighty in his favor as what he was working on in public to cover the first project up. He just had to finish them up. The secret project, Nnoi had no problem helping test out. The other project, there really wasn't much Nnoi could do. Unless he went and started catching strong hollows for Szayel to throw into the chamber where that little brat was being held. Or whatever was left of her. And he wouldn't do that, simply because there was no guarantee he'd bring any of them back alive.

Besides, he hated that Allina. She called him Radarhead instead of his real name. Even though he'd told her to call him Nnoitra. Several times! Apparently Radar-Head was easier to remember since he was "wearing a satellite". She was as bad as Neliel when it came to irritating him. Like they thrived on disrespecting him. Stupid women needed to learn their place, and fast.

A little concsiousness came flooding back to Allina, and she clawed her way up out of the darkness. This was…breaking her down, even as it strengthened her. The darkness was eating away at her, trying to create something new while obliterating all that she was. She still had that strange ball of energy within her, and got the feeling it was helping her fight. The darkness was clawing back at her, crowding, and she was only vaguely aware that she was still operating the enormous body that she was somehow jammed inside of. That darkness, she knew, was inside her, formed of all the other personalities she'd absorbed in an attempt to maintain control. That clawing, destroying darkness was inside her, yes, but it was also surrounding her. Flowing in her veins yet coating her skin. Creating a new her yet destroying her all the same.

She was clinging desperately to an image of a pretty blonde girl with black streaks on either side of her face, wearing glasses. Al couldn't remember that girl's name anymore, could barely remember her own and had no idea what she looked like, and felt like if she let this memory slip away, she was going to lose everything. Had lost everything. With the destruction of that last memory, she would cease to be. So she was having some strange, double or triple sight.

First, the creature her body was eating, though she could barely see through those eyes at the moment. She could still vaguely hear the howls of more, though none of them ever made an attempt to interfere in the consumption of their friend. Friend? What a strange word, it seemed…what is a friend? That girl in her mind, she was so desperately clinging to the memory of? That strange darkness, working to overwhelm her with the power she herself was gathering? The ball of light at the center of her soul, fending off each attempt to wear down what little was left?

What would happen if she lost this struggle? Would Al fade? Would this whole process end? Why was she even doing this? Hmm… Perhaps, when she lost this struggle - no, if she lost this struggle - then something new would happen. Maybe she'd finally move on to become whatever these other blending minds were pushing for.

If she had a face, she would frown. These blending minds…they were becoming nothing but feral instincts, clawing at her, trying to force her to join them. Perhaps she could dominate them, force them to stop this. What would happen if she finally took full control? She faced the darkness, gripping the energy she'd just been staving off these other parts of what contributed to the formation of the creature she now was at the head of. It was worth a try…

Szayel peered at the readout on the monitors. According to some of the data, there appeared to be some form of an internal struggle going on within Subject. There was a single soul in control of the body, but there still seemed to be an ongoing battle to assimilate that one soul into the whole beast. If that happens…He ground his teeth together.

Straightening, he walked over to a different set of monitors, hitting a few buttons. What was left of the soul in control of the entity still appeared to be fighting, so perhaps he could lend it a hand. Just this once, and then he would sit back and watch. He was hesitant to do anything though, for fear he would accidentally help with the full assimilation instead. It would do no good for him to have to terminate Subject because of his own doing.

"What?" The irritated voice filled his ears, and he glanced back to see Grimmjow standing behind him. Szayel shrugged lightly.

"A mild setback. Things are not progressing as smoothly as I'd hoped for Subject. Nothing that can't be fixed, of course." He hoped. To have to turn around and go right back out to the World of the Living for another test subject…and the worst part about this was the fact he had been very public about this project. So if it failed, he couldn't simply cover it up. To have to admit that his first attempt had been unsuccessful would be humiliating.

"Allina not doing so well in there?" He heard Grimmjow start walking away, grinding his teeth together. Allina. That name should not have been used, Lord Six should have called the creature Subject. He was there for when he'd first introduced the change, after all. But Szayel didn't dare actually try to correct the Arrancar, simply returning the death glares he'd received at the time of the name-changing. Perhaps the name was being used to spite him, because while he could deny the name directly to Subject, who likely didn't even remember it at this point, he couldn't enforce that with the Espada. Not without risking having his head smashed in retaliation for his impudence. Even if he gained an Espada rank, he wouldn't have the right placement to say a word to Grimmjow, because he would still be opening himself up to attack.

Wouldn't he?

Three months had passed since she'd become a Menos. Three months, and there were still 'difficulties' and 'mild setbacks' in the evolution. He'd imagined that by now she would have advanced to an Adjucha state, with all the accelerators that were being used on her and the constant power feed she was being exposed to. But no. Instead, she was still a goddamn Menos Grande. And Szayel wouldn't say for sure if she was due to evolve into the next form yet. His answers were just, "Maybe," and "Soon." But it never happened.

Grimmjow stood leaning against the wall, at the window, watching as she ate what was close to her thousandth hollow. Watching as nothing happened. He ground his teeth together, growling. Change, damn you! He shouted mentally to the creature. His tapping increased, muscles knotting up as he tensed, irritation rising another degree. When a hand landed gently on his shoulder, he spun, teeth bared, elbow slamming out to strike whoever dared to touch him.

He saw pale green hair, but didn't slow. Which, apparently, had been perfectly damn fine, because she grabbed his arm with ease and forced him to stop, only taking one step back to lessen the force on her. Damned Neliel, just loved to show up. He didn't do anything about the level of anger in his voice when he snapped at her. "What?"

"Calm down. There's no need to get so worked up over a hollow." Her tone of voice was the same, soft, unworried tone she always used with everyone. Those gentle eyes looking at him like he was less, weaker, something to be coddled and protected…He knew she meant well, but that didn't stop his irritation from rising more. With Szayel, with her, with the hollow in the chamber behind him. With the fact she'd been allowed to walk in here, with the fact she'd touched him, spoken to him. Looked at him as though she were somehow stronger. He was not inferior, damn it!

"Why don't you go annoy someone else, woman? I'll do whatever the hell I want." He pivoted on his heels, knowing he had nothing to fear from the green-haired wench. He pressed his hand to the glass that stood between him and the room Allina was in. Or whatever was left of Allina. Did she even remember her name? Probably not. She also wouldn't remember him.

Which was fine. It didn't really matter if she remembered or not. It just would've been nice not to have to go through introductions all over again. He could try not to have a headache repeating himself, though. Try. Nnoitra might finally convince her to call him by his name, too.

Grimmjow grinned. Or, she might still call him Radar-Head. Their interactions were hilarious, though he was positive that once she wasn't safely tucked away behind glass, she'd be done for if she didn't use his proper name. Grimmjow would've done the same thing, but she'd stopped calling him 'Good Kitty' willingly enough. Now he was just 'Grimmy'. Or 'Blue.' He wasn't sure he liked the second one much, but it didn't really annoy him, either.

. . .

His eyes snapped open suddenly as he heard the sound of clapping. His legs were folded under him, and he sat propped against a wall, with his forehead pressed against the glass of the window. Aside from the clapping, he did not hear anything else. Did something happen? Grimmjow shifted, turning his head to look into the room. His eyes slowly began to widen, and he looked towards Szayel. "How long was I out for?"

Feathers of black and white flowed out from behind the mask of the creature like the war crown of an Indian chief. No eyes were visible, the mask having a visor where it seemed they should have been. Horns stretched from its head, and its body seemed humanoid, yet oddly stretched and thin, covered in what looked like the same material that formed its mask. Where that wasn't visible, beautiful and thin white feathers covered its body and almost resembled fur. Wings were tucked behind its back, covered in those same feathers, and from the arches of those wings protruded horns. It sat back on its haunches, seeming to gaze calmly into the window at the two Arrancar present, in spite of the fact it could not see them. A hole ran through the very center of its being, not quite in the area of the stomach but also not in the area of the chest. The hole was in between those two places. Aside from its eyeless appearance, the mask most closely resembled a dragon's head.

The reason it - she - seemed to gaze directly at them was because in a way, the hollow could see them. The visor made up for her lack of eyes, radiating small amounts of reiatsu outwards, which bounced off of everything and came back to her, telling her what her surroundings were. She had a reiatsu-based sonar, but she could also sense their presences, smell them, hear their every breath…

Realizing she had both of their attention, Subject rose and began walking on four legs to them, previously unseen tail swishing out behind her, covered in hundreds more of those too-thin, lengthy feathers. Beat her wings once, twice, then simply spread them as far as she could, stretching them while she stretched her body in a catlike pose and yawned. Then, Subject began running over to the window, talons clicking noisily against the stone floor, even as it burned from her touch, the reishi being absorbed into her being. She touched the snout of her mask to the glass, but it resisted deformation and she snorted, laying down. Even like this, with her head resting on her crossed forelegs, she was almost larger than they were tall. Standing on all four, she was five times the size of a horse. Silent, though she could have said something. Simply breathing, resting calmly, waiting for them to be the first to speak. And, if they did not, that was perfectly fine by her. She'd just find some way in there to eat them. To pass up so clearly delicious a meal would be a crime, indeed.