Alutiereina woke slowly. The room was oddly very dark, and...smelled. Like sweat and blood and guys. Laughter filled her sensitive ears from the far side of the room, which had different levels of flooring upon which sat multiple different dark forms. She could sense them, but was too groggy to recognize any of them. She slowly pushed to a stand and stumbled forward, shoulder brushing against a wall as she teetered a little too far to the right. There was a nasty taste in her mouth, her face felt weird and grimy, her clothes were extra-uncomfortable and her throat was dry. Even her eyes burned unpleasantly, and she felt...irritable. Borderline illogical in her pseudo-rested state.

She noticed blue hair and walked towards it with an odd smile, reaching for the color itself, which was so bright and alien in the dark emptiness of the room. Her palm felt the back of a head for a split second, and in the very next a firm vice-like grip locked on her small wrist and yanked, tossing her over and down onto her back in front of a familiar shirtless figure with a jawbone mask fitted on his face.

They stared silently at each other for a moment, and then he lifted a bottle to his lips, took a swig of it, swallowed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he threw back his head and laughed, the sound oddly slurred. His breath smelled wrong. "Woman's about as loopy as they get!"

As laughter echoed out from the far corners of the room back to them, Grimmjow rose with the brown-colored glass bottle gripped in a tight fist and glowered down at her, seeming unstable. Well, he was always unstable, but this time was...different. She looked around and noticed about sixteen bottles piled behind him, possibly more rolled farther away than that. What the hell? He started to take a step forward as if she weren't already laying on the ground right in front of him, then swayed and stopped. Started to move again, then fell, catching himself at the last second by putting out his arms in front of him. She sat up and pressed a hand against his chest in a feeble attempt to either hold him up or steady him. Their faces were half a foot away from each other now, and as his breath trekked over her face, she finally recognized the repugnant smell. A weak, fast-fading memory of the word alcohol surfaced, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. His glassy eyes were flashing. "That was quite a stunt you pulled back there."

"That was just the beginning, Kitty." She smirked up at Grimmy and headbutted him, but instead of impacting with his forehead she hit the palm of his hand, and as a cruel grin spread across his lips and her eyes widened, he slammed her head down against the stone floor. She hadn't had enough time to gasp in surprise. Grimmjow was suddenly very stable and very in control of himself. And instead of removing his hand from her face, he continued pressing down on her. The pressure from it was uncomfortable, and she arched her back, trying to buck him off.

"You're disgusted by the scent of what's in this bottle, woman? I saw it written all over your face. But you haven't even tried it yet!" His hand fell away, and she tried to jump to her feet, only he was straddling her. Suddenly, his fraccion phased out of the shadows and surrounded them. Ylfordt grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. Her kicking legs were seized yet and held steady by two sets of hands; one set holding her ankles and the other pinning her knees. The remainders simply crowded around, watching in a rapt manner she found to be ominous. Her gaze locked on Grimmjow. "I came up with a better punishment than my usual, kicking you around like a soccer ball. Let's give her a drink, boys!"

She clamped her mouth shut, but he used his left hand to pry her jaws open and hold them in position. Then the bottle was lowered over her mouth, tilted, and the disgusting liquid poured from the neck down into her mouth. She tried to hold it there, prevent it from going down her throat, but since she was laying down it was easier said than done. And then they plugged her nose, so that she would have to either swallow or drown in it. Her body made the decision for her, and she coughed. "Stop!"

Ylfordt was holding the bottle this time; Grimmjow had handed it off to him, and it was blondie's turn to smile cruelly. Payback time. When he poured, he wouldn't stop until her mouth was filled to overflowing, and the liquor trickled down over her face as she bucked and struggled. Halfway through with that dosage, she began to cough and gag, which made her squirming that much more feverish. Desperate. Eventually she gave in and started drinking as soon as the beverage was being poured, hating every moment of it. She was determined to pay them back. Her mind began fogging, her vision swam, but she continued glaring up at them angrily. Even though her body had finally gotten weak enough that she could no longer struggle against the hands that held her down.

Everyone had had their turn forcing that garbage down her throat. Everyone would have their turn when she got her revenge...


Grimmjow stood with his back against the door to the usually empty room in his hall. They were keeping the little woman there, at least until she could function again. If she didn't die of alcohol poisoning, anyway. If she did, it would only prove that sheltered, test-tube Arrancar were weak and worthless. Her death would mean very little, unless Aizen was still intrigued with the study. Though, of course, he likely wasn't. The most amazing thing she'd ever done was go from a human soul to a cannibalistic monster; since becoming an Arrancar, she was a prim and proper lady who became everyone's punching bag long before she raised a finger in her own defense.

Until tonight, anyway. Tonight, she had lashed out. She hadn't wanted to, and it had earned her around twelve bottles of beer poured down her throat, one after the next, but she had. During the whole time, her weakness and the pathetically easy way she was held down clashed with the fury and hatred banked in her eyes. He had expected for her to tap into some deeply hidden reservoir of strength and break free, beating them all to hell in a wild frenzy before escaping. Of course, such a feet was impossible. She had been helpless.

She still was. Lying in there on a bed, so drunk she couldn't speak, walk, or see straight, she would still be an easy victim for the wrath of anyone who happened to walk down the hall to settle on. He was resolved to continue attacking her physically after this. The bruises, she could heal from, and the broken bones as well. It was a chance for her to get stronger, and unlock more of her abilities. In the meantime, she appeared worthless at best.

He turned and let himself into the room, where there was a small lump in the middle of the bed, shivering. Grimmjow chewed the inside of his mouth, eyes narrowing to slits. Really? Bat-girl curls up like a cat when she sleeps? Or was it just a drunkard thing? He walked forward and stood at the end of the bed, staring down at the small form beneath the quilt. He sat down on the mattress, reached over, and pulled down the covers at least until her face was visible. She was clearly breathing easier after that, but her expression went from peaceful to troubled, and she curled up tighter. Shaking his head, he stormed out of the room, not entirely sure what the hell he was even doing.


"Tesla-saaan~!" He turned and looked behind him, where Alutiereina was running up to him ecstatically. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, and when she reached him, she jumped the rest of the distance and wrapped her arms around his neck in a suffocating hug. He fell backwards, stunned, while the girl sat up on his chest, smiling down at him, and repeatedly tried to pin her flowing silver hair behind her ears. She giggled strangely, and he frowned. Drunk as a skunk.

"Hello." He looked ahead of him, to where Nnoitra was now reclining against the wall, observing their interactions with a devilish grin. Of all the times he quite honestly wished his master would have moved on without him, now was certainly one of them. Though, he had to admit, it was nice to see her. She'd been conspicuously absent from Las Noches for the past two weeks; he was beginning to think that temperamental blue-haired basket case had finally snapped and disappeared her. It wouldn't have come as a huge surprise, considering the fact that Lord Jaegerjaques has had it out for her from day one, for reasons unknown. It did not help that she also seemed to have made it her personal duty in life to anger him on a daily basis.

She popped up and seemed to bob somehow with excitement."Oh, oh! Who's that, over there?" She pointed to a blonde walking in the distance, with three females trailing closely behind her. He recognized them immediately, identifying the small group as the Espada Tier Harribel and her fraccion. She looked at him for a long minute, as though his words held no meaning to her, and then he practically heard it all click into place as she finally processed the information. "Oh, okay!"

She's acting like an absolute nitwit. He pushed her off of him and sat up, pushing to his feet and brushing himself off before turning and looking at her for a moment. Then he held out a hand to help her up, since she just kept sitting there on her knees and staring up at him. She reached for his hand, but another hand gripped her wrist, hard, and twisted before letting go. She cried out in pain, and he went on guard, though he dropped his stance quickly when he saw Grimmjow standing there. "Let the woman help herself up. If she can't stand on her own, then she belongs on her knees."

She was to her feet in an instant, rounding on him as if she didn't know he'd like nothing more than another reason to beat her black and blue (besides just because he could or because he wanted to). Tesla never noted that he never seemed to lash out at women until after they went after him first; of course, he didn't take the differences in strength into consideration, either. Once he had that reason to attack, he was brutal about it. Right now, he had all the reason he needed. Alutiereina smacked Grimmjow, though it didn't even turn his head. "I can rise on my own just fine, thank you. It just seems rude to stand on your own when someone is offering you their hand."

"Who cares what is or isn't rude, woman? Look where we are!" He swung an arm out, indicating the sands of Hueco Mundo and the fortresslike palaces of the Espada. It was a clear point; worrying about being polite in a place full of monsters was absurd.

"Sometimes, it can mean all the difference between life and death. Especially where we are." She moved to stand barely an inch away from him, rising up on her tiptoes in an attempt to glare into his eyes. She clearly wasn't worried about being polite around Grimmjow, and that was where it counted most. Or, was she under the impression that his punkish, irreverent, and temperamental ways called for a different approach? Crazy woman. She turned to Tesla, catching him off guard. "Anyway, I came to ask you a favor, Mister Sir Person."

Grimmjow, standing beside her and completely, clearly blown off by her quick change in attention, ground his teeth together. Tesla half expected him to wring her neck from behind in retaliation for her tone or turning her back on him as though he were completely inconsequential, dismissing him without a word. Maybe for standing too close, or something. But, no. He just stood there, glaring down at her like he thought if he glowered long enough it'd make her head explode. Finally, he seemed to give up on that task and turned away, wandering off over the sands for a few feet before disappearing into a sonido. Tesla gave Lu his complete, undivided attention while she made her request. Listening from a short distance off, Nnoitra turned and walked off towards his palace. This was going to take a while...