A/N: …Hi. I, uh, I don't know the first thing to say to you guys. Simply put, I don't know if I'm still welcome in this fandom. I did the worst possible thing, starting a fic and then putting it on permanent hiatus and when I start posting again, it's not even in the same fandom. I feel real bad for that.

It's been nearly a year since my last update for anything Bleach and I'm a hundred percent sure that I've butchered the characters I've borrowed in order to write this fic. That said, I present you guys with this fic. The plot is one that I've been nursing ever since Catwalk ended and I'm really just… well. I should let you guys judge the story…

From G to U

"Are you sure about this?" The sombre voice drifts through the harsh desert winds. Overhead, the seven moons of Hueco Mundo were peeking through heavy blood red clouds.

A flick of his claw sends coppery blood splattering onto the rocky ground. It is with a great sigh that the demon opens his eyes, their bright color lost in darkness – cold and emotionless, the fire that should've been burning in them has long since gone extinguished. His gaze lands on the hulking figure on the valley below slowly being revealed as the clouds traverse the sky.

At first glance, one would think nothing of the mass of shadows but as the luminous moons break forth, a sharp image that brings a pungent smell stands out all too clearly. An enormous body nearly filled up the whole valley, muscles and bones breaking through skin, multiple limbs twisted in all directions, so much blood. The Behemoth, a creature fuelled by mindless rage, lay dead.

"Another old friend has gone." The demon spoke in a flat tone, drained of feeling, hopeless. "I cannot – I refuse to watch any one more of us die…" He turns, tilting his head just so that he meets an equally weary gaze. "The Great Behemoth's blood is on my hands. Much like the Storm Baron's, and the Dragon's Fist, and the Iron Swallow, and the young Prince… The blood of a hundred thousand warriors is on my hands."

"That's how it always goes," the first one speaks sagely, finally stepping out from the cave where he is the self-appointed guardian. "I have watched many of the Great Ones come and go… I have watched them rise from the throng of mere Hollows, become phenomenal, ferocious… Your generation is not first one to run amok."

"And we will not be the last," the demon completes the statement, turning around to fully face the guardian. "I have had enough bloodshed for a lifetime, my friend… Allow me some reprieve."

For a long moment, the two beings stare at each other until the guardian bows his head in defeat. "Leaving now wouldn't solve anything… but if you are decided-"

"I am."

The guardian raises his face to the perpetual night skies, he presses two fingers against his lips and a sharp whistle fills the air. Out of nowhere sparks bright blue flames, gaining the form of wolves with ruby red eyes as they touch the ground and circle their master. He gives the demon a sad look as he motions with his fingers and utters a spell under his breath; the blue-fire wolves leap into the air above them and merge into a bright swirling vortex.

"Many have ventured to the Other World before you," the Guardian of the Wolves warns for the last time. "None of them has been known to return."

Dark green eyes lift up towards the portal. "Dying in the hands of a stranger is a better end than being killed by a friend." Leather wings spread out from the demon's back, spanning more than twice than his height. He gives the fallen Behemoth one last glance and clenches his still-bloody claws, facing the Guardian again, inclining his head. "You have my deepest gratitude, Primera."

Primera, the Guardian of the Wolves, shakes his head. "I wish you find recluse you seek. I take it you do not wish your departure to be known?"

"It'd be best."

"Very well."

"Keep safe." Demon bat-wings spread out and flapped, lifting the lean fur-covered body up from the rocky mountainside. Pale skin lined with battle scars and smears of blood glisten under the light of the seven moons. "Keep Hueco Mundo safe."

With a final nod from the Primera, green eyes focus on to the whirling vortex and the Great Demon flies up directly to its center, disappearing as the bright blue fires close in on his form.

"Farewell, Murcielago."

From G to U

The sharp snap of heels echoed as a singular figure headed down the hallway, long robes swishing left and right from its aggravated pace. Tall arched windows panelled with colored glass illuminate the otherwise blandly white floor and walls.

Abruptly, the figure halts, red-tipped fingers twitching in the slightest as another presence is made known. With a graceful turn, golden eyes framed by a bone white headdress-slash-visor settle on the stained glass window directly to the right. A frown surfaces on the perfectly curved lips, painted with a mysterious shade of violet. "I do not have time for your games, Trepadora. So either reveal yourself or stay behind, you know he doesn't like you sneaking in."

Curving vines white as the walls separated themselves from the architecture, one would've thought them just a part of the decor unless one knew of the Hollow's distinctive marks. Lines of ivy slithered down from the sill of the arched windows, accumulating at the base of the pillar untouched by moonlight.

Golden eyes follow the movement of the vines as they piled higher and higher, eventually reaching a good height and from the swirling mass of leaves and vines emerged a lithe figure with mischievous amethystine eyes. A circlet of vines form around Trepadora's short ebony hair and the quirk on his thin lips become more pronounced as the rest of his arms and torso come up.

Trepadora steps out, fully formed with curling vines and leaves covering his pale body in just the right places and more. "He doesn't like my presence at all, period," he says as his bare feet lead him out from the shadows.

"Well our lives at stake right now so it's time to play nice." Agitation had no place on the exquisite profile but it was displayed anyway showing just how bad the creature felt about the situation. With a huff, the golden-eyed creature resumed its snappy walk. Trepadora catches up just in time as they near the end of the hall and the great silver doors open before them.

Three other individuals were already inside, gathered around a round table that featured a map of the lands of Hueco Mundo. All of them looked up at the grand entrance and the first to speak was a creature in hulking armor.

"Fornicaras, what are you doing here?"

Fornicaras, tall and slender with eyes of molten amber, sweeps into the room with a testy smile. "This concerns our Kingdom, brother; I have a right to be here."

"I told you to stay out of this!" The creature rose to his full admirable height, the hulking white armor that covered his body from the waist up only added effect to his menacing tone. Silky platinum hair sweeps behind him as he leaves his place at the table to intercept the new arrivals. "This isn't your place–"

"My place?" Fornicaras lets out a short laugh. "Do not presume to order me around just because you are older, Del Toro. I assure you, I am well-versed in politics and strategy – I can help."

"What is there to help, anyway?" Trepadora quips, gliding past the arguing siblings and setting his amethyst eyes on the wide circular table enchanted to show their world's landscape upon order. "Looks like we're outnumbered."

"Nobody asked your opinion and nobody wants you here," growls the feral creature at the opposite side of the table, cocking his head and tossing back the shock of electric blue hair on him. "Get out!"

"I told you," Trepadora glances over at Fornicaras, lips set to an amused lilt.

"I have a suggestion," Fornicaras says, gloved hands curtly pushing his brother away, lilac and white fabric swaying behind him as he stepped forward "Why don't we just accept their offer? No bloodshed for everybody. Logically speaking, that's our best option."

"Yeah, well, that's also the best way to hand over our asses for butchering," is the unimpressed reply. A snide frown uncovered a row of pointed teeth as the creature glared at the unwelcome contributor. He crosses his arms over his exposed chest which was the only part of him (save for his head) that wasn't plated with striking white armor.

"Oh of course, your plan is naturally better as always," Fornicaras counters, placing his hands flat over the glass of the table top.

"Damn right it is." Cerulean eyes narrow at the outright challenge of his authority. He paces around the round table, a long tail whisking left and right behind him.

"Let's hear it then, Pantera." Chin up, Fornicaras stares down at his opposite with a look of challenge swimming in his amber eyes.

A claw moves over the table top, one finger lifted, the tip of its sharp black nail circles over a vast area labelled Cascada La Gota. "We're going for an alliance with the Shark Empress." Pantera states. "She has supposedly turned down the Skull Emperor's offer, opting for neutrality but that's not gonna last long if the Emperor conquers everywhere else. We need her to see our point and fight with us." He continues towards a mountain range to the east of what was labelled Las Noches, their palace. "Over this range, there's a gathering of Hollows, rogue ones but they're powerful. They're headed by a nameless warrior but the group is known as the Santa Teresa. It's a blind shot but that frat's got thousands of Hollows under their command."

"You do know that Santa Teresa isn't likely to accept?" Trepadora interrupts, planting himself beside Fornicaras who looked mildly impressed at the discussion so far.

Pantera shoots the slim creature look of incredulity. "And you know this because?"

"Perks of being a wallflower." Treparoda smiles a sly one. "Literally. The Santa Teresa Hollows are a bunch of blood-thirsty warriors and they don't do anything that doesn't get them something in return."

"We still have to try," the last member of the group who has kept her silence all along finally spoke. All eyes turn to the contemplative warrior whose hazel eyes were still focused on the map. An animalistic skull with curled horns covers her head with waves of teal-colored hair flowing from it and reaching the small of her back. Dressed in full battle regalia, Gamuza meets the others' expectant gaze calmly. "I will send a faction of my troops to seek out correspondence with this Santa Teresa."

"Can you have that accomplished by the fortnight?" Pantera asks, suddenly all-serious.

"I will have Verruga lead the troops," Gamuza concedes. "He is one of my best generals, never loses his cool and quick with his mind, I am certain he will be able to draw Santa Teresa to our side."

"Good. Now for the Shark Empress–"

"I volunteer." Fornicaras speaks up.

"You cannot be serious," Trepadora deadpans.

"For once I agree with the vegetation," Pantera says, offhandedly slicing away the quartz vine shot at him.

"Seriously, brother," Del Toro frowns, putting a hand on his sibling's shoulder. "You need not to involve yourself in these matters."

"Well unless my studies are erroneous, the Great Tiburon takes no audience from the male populace," Fornicaras points out, setting his eyes onto the lone female in their group. "Take it as a compliment, Gamuza, that I don't wish for you to head over to Cascada La Gota. You're a leader of the army, they need you here."

Gamuza nods kindly in acknowledgement.

"There are other females in the army!" Del Toro cries out but Fornicaras was already changing form.

Two pairs of wings, supple with great drops of red hanging like fruit from a bough, grow from the creature's back and they envelop his whole body.

Trepadora lets out a whistle as Fornicaras emerges from the enclosure in a distinctly feminine form.

The white and lilac robes cling a little tighter to the new curves of Fornicaras' body and she smirks. "Let me handle Empress Tiburon," she says sweetly, batting her long lashes at Pantera.

"Fine," Pantera rolls his eyes.

"Pantera!" Del Toro shouts in offense, murky brown eyes wide with disbelief. "I will not have my brother–"

"Sister,"Fornicaras corrects, painted lips quirked in a grin.

"We're in a war, Del Toro," Pantera gives the creature a pointed look. "We have to use our resources wisely." He then sets his cerulean eyes to the transformed woman. "Don't make me regret trusting you."

Fornicaras does a little curtsy. "There's a 97% probability that the Shark Empress will favour our proposition."

"Go then. The quicker we get her allegiance the better." Pantera points a dark claw towards the door. "And take the plant with you. Maybe Tiburon's a vegetarian."

Trepadora flips him a rude finger as he and Fornicaras exit the war room.

Once the door was shut, Pantera's mien grows sober. He turns his attention back to the table, eyes set to the edges where an isolated landmark bears the name Los Lobos Valley. "What was that again about the last World War, Gamuza?"

The teal-haired creature folds her hands together in front of her. "It happened centuries ago, nearly a millennia has passed but the story is that irrational anger supposedly brought the Greats of Olde to turn on to the Hollow populace. The whole world became their battlefield and no Hollow was safe, they killed everything on sight." Hazel eyes trace an invisible path across the table top. "Storms raged in land, air, and water until one day one of them snapped out of it, the Great Demon Murcielago. He saw the havoc caused by him and his fellows of the Olde."

"So he went out to set things right," Pantera continued in a low tone, nearly burning a hole through the table with the intensity of his stare. "He went after and killed the bastards that ran amok. The last one, the Behemoth, fell at Los Lobos Valley. Yeah, that part I know… but after that…?"

"Nobody knows," Del Toro comments, having regained his calm. "Some say he offed himself, guilty for what he'd done. Some say he went into deep sleep, only to awaken when the Hueco Mundo would need him most. Some say he's still around, watching over everything."

Pantera's face scrunch up as he considers the stories. "If Murcielago is indeed still in Hueco Mundo then we would've felt his reiatsu – a being like him is sure to have a powerful aura."

"Unless he's hiding it," Gamuza points out, which was extremely plausible.

"But if he's been in Hueco Mundo all along," Pantera continues, briefly flicking his gaze over at his two companions. "Why hasn't he stopped that damn Arrogante from taking over one-thirds of the land?"

"He's in hibernation," Del Toro suggests but even he knew it was a weak argument.

"I think he's in another dimension," Pantera says, expecting the incredulous looks sent his way.

"What makes you think that?" Gamuza questions.

"Well he can't be dead." Pantera's expression is completely serious.

"Right, and you know this because?" Del Toro's brow was in serious danger of disappearing into his hairline.

"Hey, a guy who saved the whole freaking world wouldn't just off himself," Pantera explains.

"Yes, he saved the world but to do that he killed the rest of his fellow Greats," Del Toro says with great patience. "I think that'd be a pretty good reason to want to commit suicide."

"Speak for yourself," Pantera huffs.

"Okay, so hypothetically, if your theory is right," Gamuza's lips were set to a musing frown. "If Murcielago is alive and he's in another dimension – what now?"

"We go get him," Pantera answers as though crossing worlds to find a long lost Demon was the most logical thing in the world to do.

"You're not serious." Del Toro shakes his head.

"He's still the last of the Greats left," Pantera wills the others to see his point. "If we get him on our side, then we have a solid chance of beating the damn Skull Emperor."

"But if he is on another world, how do we find him?" Del Toro crosses his arms over his chest. "Heck, who's to say he hasn't died there yet? It's nearly been a millennia since anyone last saw him."

"Details, details." Pantera waves his claw at them but Gamuza levels him with an unimpressed glare.

"We cannot risk sending people to seek dead ends," the army leader speaks lowly. "The idea of having the Great Demon on our side is phenomenal but let us be logical here: it's a cold trail to follow, Pantera."

"Then we won't send a battalion – let's just send one man." Cerulean eyes find no objection. "Me."

"No way." Both creatures chorus against him.

"We cannot lose our leader," Gamuza implores. "We need you here."

"It's a near-suicide mission, Pantera," Del Toro adds.

The feline creature straightens his back, confidence oozing from every pore. "It's not, I'll find Murcielago."

"We don't even know where to start looking," Del Toro says, hoping to have his friend think twice about his decision.

"Yes we do," Pantera lays a dagger-sharp claw onto Los Lobos Valley on the map. "The place where he made his last kill."

Gamuza and Del Toro share forlorn looks. Pantera could never be swayed once he decides on something.

"I entrust the kingdom and army to you two," Pantera says, walking away from the table and opening a window. "When the Shark Empress and Santa Teresa join us, converge with them and don't stop fighting. I'll bring back the Great Demon."

Before either creature could utter another word, Pantera jumped out of the window and disappeared into the landscape.

From G to U

The Primera was unimpressed, watching his wolves devour the Hollows with his one good eye. It was good to have quiet once again, he was honestly tired of hearing screams of pain.

Terrible times they're in right now.

Old powers, hungry, insatiable forces were rising in the lands of Decay. It wasn't going to be good.

Idly, Primera recalls the last time their world faced such threat of destruction. The last war was still too vivid in his mind for Hueco Mundo to start a new one.

Blue-fire wolves move out from their circle, leaving not a trace of the 'messengers' the Great Skull Emperor had sent to wile the ancient guardian to join their cause.

Primera pulls his cloak tighter against the oncoming burst of wind, eyes closed in quiet contemplation of who was to be his next guest. He could feel the determined aura whipping through the land going right for his valley.

It was a new spirit, something he had not encountered before. Undoubtedly, the creature was here to request his allegiance. War is everywhere, its cold hands pushing everyone and everything to drastic measures.

In a flash, the empty land before him is suddenly covered in clouds of dust as the creature slides to a halt. When the bites of earth settled, the Primera finds himself facing an Hollow that looked like a cross between a great feline and a man. The creature was plated in white armor and blue was the only color on him.

Cerulean eyes stare back at him, sizing him up, the slightest flicker showed a hint of apprehension. Uncertainty but not fear.

Interesting.

"I have no wish to participate in the coming battles," Primera says, hoping that this one would have better sense than the last. "Leave now and you will be unharmed." Beside him, his wolves' eyes glow a bright red.

"No offense, but I didn't come here to recruit you," the newcomer spoke with a superior tone.

Primera allows his surprise o show. "Then what is your purpose in journeying out here?"

A smirk reveals dagger-sharp teeth. "I need intel."

He's too headstrong, too sure of himself, Primera notes, taking a few steps to the side but keeping his eye on the Hollow. "What makes you so sure that I have the information you seek?"

"Because you were the last one who saw the Great Demon Murcielago."

Primera freezes.

"I lead the opposition to the Skull Emperor," continues the brave soul. "And I seek Murcielago."

"I see," Primera replies once he's regained his voice. "But I regret to inform you that you will not find the Great Demon here."

"I know that." He is decided to the point of being cocky. "You sent him to another dimension."

The guardian's breath hitches for a split-second and that's the sole confirmation he needs.

"We need his help to defeat Arrogante," the blue-eyed Hollow implores, dark claws twitching at the growing length of their conversation. "You're the only one who knows where he went and I need to get there."

"That is an impossible quest," Primera states matter-of-factly. "Murcielago chose to leave this world behind, he has grown weary of bloodshed and mindless battles – I doubt that you could convince him to return. That is, if you even manage to find him. If he's even still alive."

The creature's tail whisks back and forth in agitation and it pulls slightly at his expression. "Then why confirm that he did leave Hueco Mundo?"

Gray-tinged eyes widen a fraction. He did not mean to let that slip. Primera's brows crease together in the slightest, and he speaks in a voice roughened with age. "Because of every creature that has left Hueco Mundo, not a single fragment of their beings has ever returned. Only one monster has been known to have gone and come back from the Other World in one piece."

"Oh yeah? Who is it?" the feline hybrid asks, setting dead-serious eyes to the Guardian of Los Lobos Valley.

"He stands right in front of you."

An ungraceful snort leaves the armor-plated beast grinning. "Then what makes me so special that you don't just throw me overboard like everyone else?"

Primera's lips thin to a line and the admission takes a few seconds to come out. "Because Hueco Mundo is on the fringe of a great uprising… It will not do to lose a noble warrior at a time like this."

His expression reverts to a cold sober mien. "You're concerned for the well-being of this world as much as I am. You know that the Great Demon will give us a great advantage over the Skull Emperor." The gleam in those cerulean eyes shows absolute certainty of having won argument entirely. "You know what has to be done and I know that I can deliver."

Wolves of bright blue fire, which were until then much ignored, drew attention to themselves as, one by one, they burst into a pillar of fire. "The Dragon Fist." Primera enunciates with a tone of finality and one wolf shoots into the air above and forms a vortex. "The Storm Baron." The whirling flames grow as another one follows. "The Iron Swallow." A third one disappears within its kin. "The Prince of Extinguished Flames." Ruby red eyes were the last to go. "The Behemoth." A particularly large wolf whooshes up to join the others. The guardian's gaze is hard as he steps forward with one last wolf trailing beside him. "The Greats of Olde had fallen under the claw of the Great Demon." He sets one gloved hand between the wolf's ears and the creature morphs into a weapon unseen of in their world. It was smooth and black with silver ornamental designs etched onto its side, it had a barrel and a handle and a small latch for a trigger.

Wind picks up around the two beings as the flaming dark hole spins faster. Primera takes a moment to examine the piece of weaponry before raising it, handle-first towards the other Hollow. "I should warn you that your abilities will be considerably depleted once you step into the other side. Take this pistol, its bullets are unlimited and if you focus enough energy before firing it, you will find that it will create a portal to bring you back home."

Sharp claws close over the metal gun and he steps forward until he's right under the transdimensional wormhole. The bright blue light reflect on his pure white armor and it makes the blue of his hair even more striking under the endless night sky. "I won't fail. I'll bring back Murcielago."

Primera nods and steps back before he could reconsider. As the feline creature rears back, aiming to jump, the gray-eyed guardian finds one last statement rushing to the tip of his tongue. "One last thing – what is your name?"

That feral smirk is back and the creature's long tail rise high in pride. "I am the King of Desgarron. I am Pantera."

From G to U

The toll guard salutes him as he drives out from the parking lot, unforgivingly large drops of rain spattering on his windshield the second he hits the street.

It's a cold February evening that held a promise of a good thunderstorm for the following days. Slender fingers set the radio station to smooth blues music as he takes a left turn at the intersection. There was no urgency in him as he finds himself stopping his vehicle owing to a change in the stoplights.

Muted green eyes stare calmly ahead, the detached mask he's put on isn't allowed to be taken off until he's within the confines of his home. The route he takes is far from the bustling highway, instead going through quiet, unassuming neighborhoods. In the daytime, the place is teeming with happy families but at this time of the night the roads are empty and it makes for smooth driving which is exactly what he needs after spending long, grueling hours at work.

His daily schedule rotates around three main things: work, rest, and food. The last two only made the list since they're necessary for living. If he had his way, he'd be living at the office but, well, that simply wasn't allowed.

Compartmentalizing his thoughts was what he did best and he finds the task easy as he drives from the city's busy business district to the welcoming silence of his subdivision. It's become a habit and it has never caused much distraction from his driving until this fateful night when a heavy thump sounds from the roof of his car and a white-clad figure tumbles down the front.

There were suddenly too many sounds – the merciless downpour of rain, the deep saxophone from the radio, the screeching halt of the breaks, the echo of the crash that came out of nowhere.

For a second he just sits there, thoughts scattered and a huge lump clogging his throat. Then a split-second decision has him bursting out of the door, running towards the crumpled figure on the asphalt illuminated by the headlights of his car.

The rain is heavy and he's soaked within a few seconds but he finds himself immobile as he stands beside the man he'd just hit. Oh god he just hit a pedestrian.

He kneels beside the man and rolls him gently to his back.

The guy appears to be unconscious but there wasn't a trace of blood on him – nothing on his clothes, nothing on the road, nothing. It would've been a good sign if he hadn't thought of the possibility of an internal bleeding. Alarmed, the green-eyed man takes a closer look. The guy was dressed in a white jacket and pants of the same color and he held an old-fashioned gun in his right hand.

His heart stills for a moment at seeing the weapon, his brain provides thoughts of 'criminal', 'dangerous', 'run away' but before he could decide on what to do the man stirs.

A low groan sounding almost like a growl leaves the man's lips as he raises himself up from the cement. Cold drops of rain catches in his spiky bright blue hair, trailing down his face as he opens his eyes, shielding them from the bright lights with one hand. The man's eyes are blue, bright as crackling lightning and the guilty party freezes when those eyes focus on him.

"Are you alright?" he asks the mysterious man who was eyeing him curiously. "You came out of nowhere and I think I hit you – I should get you to a hospital."

The man doesn't reply, instead, he turns his head to look at his surroundings. His blue eyes sharply jump from one spot to another and the frown on his lips slowly grows. As he moves his head, the headlights reveal more of his features from the shadows. There were teal markings going under his eyes and, as he craned his neck to stare at the sky, there's an eerily realistic tattoo of jawbones and sharp teeth over his right cheek.

His mind was now screaming 'thug', 'mafia', 'serial killer', 'run the fuck away' but he finds his limbs uncooperative not for the first time that night.

Suddenly, the man stands, quick and efficient, surely a sign of no broken bones or punctured internal organs. But then he looks down at him and a loud clap of thunder resounds from the high heavens; the flash of lightning makes the sharp features look – there was no other word for it – deadly.

"I'm looking for a demon," the white-clad stranger says, revealing pointed teeth. He had a firm grip on the pistol but it was pointed at the ground.

He swallows past the lump in his throat. Fat droplets flatten his ebony hair onto his skull, the cold rain cascading down porcelain skin and soaking into his dark business suit. He was completely wet and the man he thought he'd run over was asking about a 'demon'… Right. Gingerly, he gets to his feet feeling a little irate at finding that the strange man was a head taller than him. "I – I don't know what you're talking about." He hates the sliver of fear that lines his words.

The taller man steps towards him and he berates himself a little for noticing how that white jacket clings to an obviously well-muscled body. That fact only spells one thing for him: the man could easily beat him up. He was debating which martial art would be practical at a time like this when the scary man goes straight to his car and smashes the right-hand headlight using the gun.

What the hell.

Then the crazy man (he's pretty sure the guy was a basket case now) starts towards the other headlight and no, just no – he is not going to let that happen.

Moving with a newfound courage, he grabs the man by the arm and hauls him away from the vehicle with adrenaline-fueled strength before he could do anymore damage. "What is wrong with you?" he shouts, surprised at the loudness of his own voice.

"That is a dangerous contraption!" The tattooed man declares, pointing his gun at the vehicle.

Incredulity shows on his face and damn if he isn't completely lost on what is happening. Who even uses the word 'contraption' these days? And while the ride is a new model, it is very clearly still a car. "You're delusional, aren't you?" He steps back, the need to get away from the man getting more urgent with each passing second. His eyes flicker between the open door where a chorus of trombones was lost under the downpour and the man who may very well be a maniac on a killing spree.

As if he'd read his mind, the stranger makes a grab for him and a vice-like grip stops him from leaving his spot. There's an unfathomable expression on the lunatic's face as he leans in, blue eyes boring into the wide eyes of the smaller man. "You have power," he says lowly, eyes raking down the pale face.

His breath hitches at the feel of cold metal pressing against the collar of his suit. The white-clad man has the gun against his throat, pressing lightly as if that would help slow the rapidly increasing rate of his heartbeats.

"It's weak but it's there," the stranger continues, lifting his eyes to meet the scared green gaze once again. "I think you could help me."

Did he have any other choice? The question was rhetorical and frankly quite stupid. This insane man in front of him would most likely shoot him dead if he refuses to help. "A-Alright, I'll help." The words leave him in a hasty breath and a slow grin surfaces on the madman's lips.

"Good." The blue-eyed man backs off but his hand still has a firm hold around his arm.

His Adam's apple bobs a little as the cold end of the gun traces a path up his throat, lifting his chin, and a little more irritation seeps into his mien. He's going to set the police on this man the first chance he gets, but before he could plan any further a question breaks the monotonous torrent of rainfall around them.

"So what do you call yourself?" The trigger-happy grin reveals perfectly white teeth and they could've been in a toothpaste commercial if not for the fact that they were alarmingly sharp.

He licks his lips and stands up a little straighter, feeling a little bolder as the gun is drawn away from his face. There's a new shine to his dark green eyes. "Ulquiorra Cifer."

From G to U

6,046 words :)