Chapter 24: The End

Fives weeks had passed uneventfully since Halibel's illness and brought Hueco Mundo into late May. Sultry, tropical temperatures lifted the moods well past elation. There was a constant, warm breeze that would've rustled leaves if trees were around, and one could almost hear the sound of the ocean even though there was no water, save for the one in the pipes in Hueco Mundo. Because of the temperatures, Halibel's fraccion had busted out the bikinis, scant clothing, extra alcohol, and volleyballs (not that they didn't do that in the winter). Noitora often left Hueco Mundo for the real world to "conduct business"—Stark suspected drug or prostitute trafficking. Whatever seedy jobs he worked had a tendency of bringing in a nice sum of money. Grimmjow, unbeknownst, had stolen a baby cheetah from some zoo in Australia and was raising it in his room. Its name was Brucie. Ulquiorra hadn't done anything remotely interesting, as usual, though it was speculated that he had taken a liking for the nice weather and had been caught sitting on the windowsill surveying Hueco Mundo's white sands several times. Szayel disappeared for one month and returned from his cave (lab) with a new smirk on his face and a relaxed air about him, but refused to give a detailed answer when asked why he was in such a good mood. All he said was that he had completed an experiment he had been working on for ten years.

"Congrats, fucker, but who the hell spends ten years on something I could do in ten minutes?" Grimmjow had snorted at hearing the news some two weeks ago. He took this opportunity to pop the collar of his jacket even higher than it was already popped.

;;;;;

Ulquiorra was rudely awakened by an explosion coming from outside. But he didn't even bother removing the pillow from his face. It was probably Grimmjow being stupid and blowing shit up, which was nothing worth acknowledging. Ulquiorra wondered what time it was, so he removed the pillow from his face and recoiled—bright sunlight was streaming through his window, illuminating his predominantly white room to the point where his eyes watered and burned. He propped himself up on his elbows and squinted—the clock read seven forty seven am. Ulquiorra, in the past months, had transitioned from diurnal to nocturnal, though today, that cycle would be broken. Typically, he went to sleep around three or four and woke up at around noon. It was a good lifestyle for him—most of Las Noches was asleep in the hours he was awake, meaning Las Noches was quiet and deserted, unless Noitora was throwing a wild party, which happened more often than Ulquiorra would've liked. But, as Aizen's favorite, Ulquiorra slept in a large room on the eighth floor of Las Noches, and had a view of the sprawling desert below him. He had the plushiest, largest bed, biggest bathroom, the works. The eighth floor was quiet in comparison to the third, where the media room ("cinema"), Noitora's room, and the gym was. That fool threw the craziest parties nearly every night.

Aizen's meeting started in about twenty five minutes. That gave Ulquiorra plenty of time to shower and contemplate his hatred of everything and everyone. He stripped his pajamas and stepped into the shower. The hot water cascaded down his back and steam permeated the whole bathroom. Ulquiorra felt an overwhelming sense of relaxation at that point. But he quickly snapped back to reality and washed his silky hair. The finishing touch was the body wash. Ulquiorra shut off the water and grabbed a towel nearby. He wrapped it around his hips and stepped out of the shower. But his heel slipped, and before he knew it, Ulquiorra was lying on the floor of his bathroom, air knocked out of him and ringing in his ears accompanied by excruciating pain in the back of his head.

But today, on the twenty-fifth day of May, which happened to be Stark's birthday, Aizen would have them cooped up in a meeting.

"Oh, my!" Aizen purred, waggling his eyebrows seductively upon sashaying into the conference room. "All of you look quite attractive today. Don't look so sad— it'll be a short one, I promise," Aizen cooed as he twirled a stand of highlighted hair around his finger. "After all, I want you all to go back to being beautiful people."

Noitora felt vomit rise and Halibel felt extremely awkward. A look of despair and disdain passed over Ulquiorra's steady countenance and Stark just sighed hopelessly. Ulquiorra grimaced when Grimmjow took his assigned seat in front of him.

"Bitch, turn that frown upside down!" Grimmjow yelled, spit flying from his lips. He jabbed a finger at Ulquiorra.

"Be quiet." Ulquiorra snapped. His head was pounding with tiredness and what he suspected was a mild concussion. Simultaneous buzzing and ringing in his ears was threatening to split his head in half.

On Ulquiorra's left side sat Stark, who sat next to Halibel. Yami and Zomari were at the foot of the table. Aaroniero's seat, the last seat on the right side of the table was empty, because, well, he was dead. On Grimmjow's right was Szayel— he had arrived just in time for Aizen's absurdly prolonged meetings. Noitora, who sat on his right, greeted Szayel with a 'sup head-nod. Because he had the type of personality made for fucking with Barragan, who sat on his right, a very easy and entertaining to do, meetings were usually interesting. All in all, it was a nice seating arrangement. Aizen cleared his throat and took a sip of tea.

"Gin, Tousen, and I will be leaving for Curacao in exactly one week, on the first of June. We will return on the twelfth." Noitora looked up the ceiling to make fast calculations. That gave him eleven nights for potential parties and ten days for other illicit activities.

Szayel was analyzing Aizen's outfit because he had finished assessing Noitora's overbite. Aizen looked extra fagalicious today—Chanel sunglasses were propped up on his head, standing out against the streaks of blond highlights in his brown hair. A scarf was draped casually over his neck and his jacket was more open than usual. When he smiled, his teeth were so white it took all of Szayel's self control to keep from laughing. Back to Aizen's clothing—the only reason white suited him was because of Aizen's synthetic tan. It created nice contrast. Now, the only reason white suited Szayel was because lab coats were white, and his bright eyes made for a fine improvement. Szayel quickly withdrew from his feminine side and decided to count how many times Stark yawned.

"I'd also like to raise the issue of shampoo fights in the showers." Aizen said sternly. "I thought I had solved this problem by installing your own bathrooms, but apparently not. Tell me, Grimmjow, what is so fun about throwing shampoo at people in the shower?"

"Soap and shamp, for your information. And it's fun because people slip on it and it hurts if you get it in your eye." For emphasis, Grimmjow pointed to his bright blue eyes.

"Well, so does cum." Noitora muttered, checking his text messages. Szayel suppressed a grin at his wit.

"Plus, it's not like we fuck each other in the shower." Grimmjow said bluntly. "We're all wearing bathing suits, am I right, Noitora?" At this, Aizen looked appalled. Which fragment of the sentence he was appalled by was a mystery.

"Duh. Otherwise that would be total and complete faggotry." He finally looked up from his phone. "It's also fun because people get hurt. You know, shamp in the eye, slipping on suds, the usual."

"Schadenfreude, fuck yeah!" Grimmjow did a fist pump.

Aizen suddenly looked drained. He fired another question at these idiots.

"Right, but is there a purpose?"

"Nah, it's just for the lulz." Grimmjow said.

"So you throw shampoo and soap at each other for fun." Aizen said blankly.

"I'd also like to add that shampoo as well as soap is for hygiene, am I correct?" Noitora said in a smug, cold tone.

"Correct." Aizen said tersely, staring at Noitora.

"If that's the case, then wouldn't you prefer us to be clean at the expense of the showers, also cleaned by the soap that had been thrown around?"

"Oh, burn, Lord Aizen, burn." Grimmjow said fervently. Stark smiled and rolled his eyes. Noitora was, by nature, a debater of sorts. Aizen had been rendered speechless. He obviously lost the argument, so decided to raise another issue.

"Hopefully this will prompt a better explanation—why does your corridor smell so strange, Noitora?"

"Meth lab, raves, alcohol, drugs. Get over it. Do you have any real problems to discuss with us?" Noitora asked, shooting Aizen an insincere smirk. Aizen was beginning to get annoyed. He dropped all pretenses and glared intently at Noitora once he remembered that Noitora had indeed been throwing an insane rave last night. As far as raves went, Noitora's were absolutely insane. The fact he had the balls to throw such a party with Aizen around was both appalling and worth idolizing.

Gin fist bumped Grimmjow as a greeting. At once, Grimmjow moved over in his seat and allowed Gin to sit with him. The two began to whisper under Aizen's senseless blathering, giggling at internet memes and Aizen's teeth. Once Aizen dismissed them, they kind of sat there, hardly believing they were free. Then, Ulquiorra sneezed.

"Haha! You sneeze like a woman!" Grimmjow yelled, pointing at Ulquiorra.

"Could you have allergies, Ulquiorra?" Szayel said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Allergies? There are no plants in Hueco Mundo." Ulquiorra scoffed, glancing outside to prove his point.

"But there's dust and debris floating in the air." Szayel added a spirit-finger like motion with his hands for effect. Ulquiorra was sickened by the happiness blooming on Szayel's face. "Along with other little particles."

"That's ridic—" Ulquiorra paused, left eye twitching. He held a finger up in a gesture of 'wait a second' and turned away, sneezing violently only moments later. Szayel chuckled and held a tissue out to Ulquiorra, who ignored him.

"You have a pretty sneeze, by the way."

"Absurd. Sneezes are not attractive in any way."

"But yours are quiet and...graceful. I hear the ocean breeze in them." Szayel insisted, placing a hand on Ulquiorra's shoulder. Ulquiorra's green eyes strayed to Szayel's hand, rested on his shoulder. Szayel pulled back when he felt Ulquiorra's muscles tense ominously.

"Gin gets allergies all the time. But he doesn't have a nice sneeze." Szayel said. "Anyway, if you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Yes, I will find you in the padded cell." Ulquiorra riposted.

"Ha ha. Very funny." Szayel said sarcastically, eyes narrowing. "Actually, I don't have much to do right now."

"Oh, really?" Halibel said conversationally. She sipped a bit of iced tea and gazed at Szayel expectantly. Today, Halibel wore her hair in a neat, short, stylish ponytail. She had a light perfume on, or perhaps that was the sun block she was wearing. A breezy swimsuit coverup was over her well fitted bikini, for in an hour she'd take off for St. Lucia in the Caribbean with Stark.

"Yes. I already know everything there is to know, and while I still have research to do, it's not as pressing." Szayel said with a nod.

"So, are you going to get a hobby, then?" Noitora asked curiously.

"That's what I'm working on."

"Take up knitting," Grimmjow suggested. "Or carpentry. What about painting?"

"Clubbing," Noitora smirked.

"Alcoholism," Gin piped up, nudging Grimmjow in the ribs.

"Those aren't hobbies, imbeciles." Szayel said stonily. "Those are addictions."

"Call it what you want," Grimmjow shrugged, rising from the table. "It's fun shit to do."

"You'll be fun to detox," Szayel snapped.

;;;;;

But not three days passed before a garganta opened and out came Stark, looking terrified and stressed, with a very placid Halibel, bloodstains on her shirt. Unfortunately, she choose to open the garganta up in the media room, where everyone happened to hanging out.

"Is that blood?"

"What happened?"

"Did St. Lucia suck that much?"

"I was attacked by a shark," Halibel said flatly. She lifted her shirt and showed them the neat set of bite marks that started just beneath her breast and arced down to her hip and onto her back. "But not to worry. I told him to go away and he did."

"Holy shit. Isn't that like friendly fire?" Grimmjow asked.

"Are you in pain?"

"No, it's not too bad." Halibel said with a wave of her hand. "It's healing quite nicely, don't you think?"

"It'll leave some epic scars behind, but I would've pissed my pants." Grimmjow said enthusiastically. He himself was very proud of the scars painted on the canvas of his muscled chest. Obviously, he was more proud of battle scars than pansy ass surgery scars.

"By the way, Grimmjow, Brucie is growing quickly." Szayel remarked offhandedly. He smirked when Grimmjow blanched and lost all signs of happiness.

"How did you know about Brucie?" Grimmjow asked gruffly. "He's nice! Don't judge him just because he's a cheetah!"

"Well, Ulquiorra smelled a wild animal." Szayel explained. "And he suggested I check it out. So I did, and I found Brucie. And I'm not judging him, Grimmjow—he was quite friendly."

"Damn, he's like a pregnant woman. I forgot that Ulquiorra has a freakish sense of a smell." Grimmjow mumbled mutinously.

"Yes, he's quite batty," Stark snickered. "If you know what I mean."

The group tittered nervously, since Ulquiorra was standing right there. Yes, Ulquiorra was quite…odd. He had been found napping in the library the other day, and it had been revealed that he had an endearing habit of sleeping with his arms crossed diagonally over his chest, like the fabled vampire, not the faggy vampires that plague pop culture today. Pics were taken and were put on Facebook, following standard protocol.

"Anyway, Ulquiorra won't tell Aizen." Szayel chuckled. "Ulquiorra would rather have a cheetah wandering around than talk to Aizen."

"That," Ulquiorra said under his breath, "is true."

"So how did you get attacked?" Noitora asked.

"Two days ago I was swimming in the beautiful blue waters when something large grabbed me and pulled me down. It was a shark. I told him to leave at once, and he apologized and swam away." Halibel explained shortly. "Unfortunately, he did bite me deep enough for me to bleed. But I'm all right."

"Scars are fucking cool, bro." Grimmjow puffed his chest out. "You'll love em. And you barely have any scars, anyway."

That was true. All she had was on her leg from that horrific femur break and the C-section scar that was hidden and hardly noticeable, mainly because Stark was the only person with permission to get that close to her.

"For now, I think I'll just relax here." Halibel said calmly. "St. Lucia can wait."

"And Aizen's gone, too, so it's all good." Grimmjow pointed out. "Have you met Brucie yet?"

"I have not." Halibel replied.

"You're meeting him right now." Grimmjow grabbed her arm and dragged her to his room while everyone else tagged along. Grimmjow eased the door to his room open and gently called Brucie's name. He waved everyone in and turned the lights on, revealing a tiny little cheetah, just waking up from a nap, curled up on Grimmjow's bed.

"Brucie, you cute son of a bitch!" Grimmjow cried. He sprinted to his bed and leapt onto it, almost killing the cheetah in the process. Grimmjow gave Brucie's head of messy hair a kiss. And then, Brucie meowed. Or whatever it is a cheetah cub does. This prompted Grimmjow to go into full estrogen mode, which involved squealing and giggling…Noitora was recording the ordeal on his phone, and, following standard protocol, would be put on Facebook right away.

Brucie's ears pricked up at seeing the visitors, so he lithely jumped off the bed (to Grimmjow's dismay) and strutted over to the visitors, sniffing their ankles and even pawing at some decoration on Halibel's fancy sandals. He peered up at them curiously with huge, expressive brown eyes and meowed once again.

"He's absolutely adorable," Halibel gushed, stooping down to pet Brucie.

"And he's gentleman, too." Grimmjow added.

"Too bad you're not." Noitora said snidely. Brucies turned his gaze to Noitora.

Szayel politely excused himself from the group. Yes, Brucie was very cute, but Szayel wasn't a huge fan of cats. So he ambled to his room, since he hadn't been there in weeks. Dust had settled on his furniture and on his stacks of books and old contraptions. Szayel sighed contentedly and collapsed onto his bed, smiling, somewhat dazed. Yes, his uranium experiment was complete after ten years of round-the-clock work and crushing stress. How nice it was to be free. If Szayel wanted to, he'd take another experiment up, but since he was already some fifty years ahead of the human scientific community, he could wait. Right now, traveling didn't sound too bad, and neither did recreational swimming or painting. Szayel's brain was filled to the brim with ideas and inane thoughts, so he closed his eyes and let them run wild. It was not five minutes before rapid footsteps interrupted his dreams.

"Szayel!" Grimmjow sounded frantic. "Brucie just mauled Noitora! Come quick, he's dying! Oh, the humanity—"

Szayel promptly sat up and put his glasses on. While his scientific research had come to an end (for now) his role as the sole doctor, surgeon, and mortician of Las Noches was a lifelong commitment. A very fun commitment. Dr. Grantz was in. And Dr. Grantz would always be in.

"I'll be right there." he said.

The end. The crackiness was just stuff I wanted to get in, as this is the last chapter. Though I may return to this fic. In fact, I probably will.

Thanks to all of you who read, reviewed, favorited, and alerted. Four hundred plus reviews is an honor. Now that I've ended my most popular stories, I'm a bit sad because I will not be hearing from everyone as much. But stay tuned, I might have another little Bleach fic soon since I'm so comfortable with writing the Espada.

Since it is the last chapter, I request reviews. Just oblige me for once!