From Russia with Love

The hotel Sentai sat on 20th street in the sun kissed Miami Beach area of Florida. The glass structure a shining example of modern architecture that combined the purest white stone and highly polished glass with the ancient design more commonly at home in feudal Japan. It was a 5 star hot spot for the rich and the richer of the world.

The pent house suite was truly worth its ludicrous price tag. The outer walls were all glass giving one a panoramic view of the city and the sandy white beaches that stretched for miles in either direction beckoning to the bikini wearing goddesses that this fair state was famed for. It had three bedrooms each adorned with the finest of furniture and fixtures, the king sized beds draped in silken fabrics that were worth more than the average man's monthly pay.

The lounge and dining area were open plan and seamlessly melded into one another. A spacious breakfast bar the only separator between them. The lounge itself featured leather sofas and two recliner arm chairs situated around the largest plasma screen you could imagine. Against the glass wall sat a pure white piano that was there more as a lavish decoration than something to be actively played.

Beyond the glass was a balcony that faced out to the ocean, with a swimming pool/jacuzzi combo that seemed to flow over the lip of the rooftop and down the very city streets itself. It was here Nikolai stood, a glass of whiskey in one hand a small cellphone pressed against his ear. He was a tall man, pure muscle pressed against the fabric of his white shirt, and a buzz cut that left a thin layer of brown hair on his head.

"I shall look into itz sir," The Russian said into the phone, a flock of gulls wheeling by the balcony on their way to wherever birds go. "I vill need a dizcription of ze target. After zat you can rest assured he vill not trouble you again." He finished and the small bleed in his ear confirmed that a message had been received.

The other participant in this conversation said something and the Russians eyes widened slightly. "Ze Final Protocol...it has been zo long my lord...yes...Glory to ze Twleve" He finished and hung up the phone, then he checked his messaged and to his surprise a familiar face popped up on his screen.

"So...little Shinigami....we vill meet again.." He smiled and then began making the arrangements for a fight to Britain.

The flame flickered in the constant stream of bitter cold wind blowing through the broken window pane of the run down flat in Glasgow's Bridgeton area. The tenement blocks around this run down area were all red sandstone and the windows that weren't smashed by today's youth were sealed with heavy metal shutters. They were due for demolition, when the council got their heads out of their arses, because of this Common Wealth Games crap, they'd already built an entire housing complex just up the road to put up the Athletes and the residents would just have to suffer.

Sal ran the lighter flame across the needle with a shaking hand, the blood encrusted wound looked like something from a horror flick, the ribs that were visible had taken on a brown/black colour as the blood had dried upon them. He inserted the black thread through the eye of the needle and braced himself.

He was sitting on an old sofa, the once deep blue upholstery now matted and faded with age, the cushions burst and spewing their foam innards. The room itself had served as a living room at some point but now all that remained was the sofa and half a TV, the back taken off and the mechanisms succumb to the damp of Glasgow's weather.

Norongachi braced himself. No matter how many times he done this he still had to psyche himself up before hand. Eventually you just hand to get on with it and if he didn't do it now he'd die of blood loss.
The needle entered the skin smoothly and the Glaswegian gritted his teeth against the pain as his hand took over the task hi brain was unwilling to complete, threading the sliver of metal and twine across the deep gash and sealing it shut against the elements. It took ten minutes to properly stitch it up and now he exhaled and lay back groaning to the darkness, tears trickling down his cheeks but he was not done yet. It had to be completely sealed and the small fire burning in an old trash can held yet more pain in the form of a thin metal bar that had been heated until it was white hot.

He took the metal in one wrapped hand, an old article of clothing, and pressed it against his skin like one would pull off a band aid, quickly. He tried to suppress the urge to pull away and instead his body seemed to convert this instinctual need into a full body spasm. His spine arched itself on the dilapidated sofa and the scream filled the empty house and those beyond.

He lay back and panted to the dark, his mind receding into the safety of oblivion, his eyes unfocused and staring at something beyond the veil. The metal fell to the floor with a sharp clatter and everywhere the smell of seared flesh permeated the air. His brown eyes focused themselves on the broken window pain, the rain pummelling the earth outside in a downpour of biblical proportions. The pitter patter of the water orbs making contact with solid objects was quite soothing to his shell shocked mind right now.

It took perhaps Five minutes for his mind to uncurl itself and then with the speed of a geriatric he rose from the ancient sofa and went through the remains of a veranda door out into the wet.

A Deities piss was surprisingly refreshing against his bare chest. Nature taking the time to wash away the sins of yesterday along with the blood and grime that came with breaking one of the commandments on such a grand scale. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes and let the rain pummel away the cobwebs before opening them like someone had slapped him in the face. Above him falling like a God's Hammer was a man he hoped to never see again.

The building exploded against the dark backdrop. The initial impact and then the sounds of falling debris filled the air and a billowing cloud of dust and crushed cement spread itself across the surrounding area as the whole building crumpled in upon itself and its rooftop disappeared from view.

Sal's arm was breaking, it had been a will to survive that had drawn Claidheamh Mor and blocked the ebony gauntlet from obliterating him. It hadn't however stopped the fearsome momentum of the skyfall strike that exploded the veranda and half the block driving him down three stories into a crater of broken foundations and crumbling walls where he knelt, the flat of his blade still holding the fearsome enemy, who remained vertical above him.

They looked at one another for a brief second and Sal could feel his heart thundering in his chest just gazing into those emotionless blue eyes. He twisted the Katana and slashed it upwards but the Bount spun into the air and landed several feet away, unscathed.

"This day gets better and better..." Sal growled to the muscle bound Bount.

Nikolai looked his target up and down with a critical eye. Norongachi was in a bad way, a wound received quite recently had not healed and had reopened in his initial assault. This was no sport, there would be no glory in this kill. He would make it quick and clean, there was no need to prolong the man's pain any longer than absolutely necessary.

"Lvtz..." He said his eyes focusing upon the Gauntlet that covered his entire arm and ended in an ebony spiked pauldron. The surface of the glove was covered in what appeared to be black metal scales that moved under your gaze almost like it were alive.

"Can i eat him now?" The words came with a hiss and on the back of the gauntlet a single serpents eye appeared and focused its slit like pupil upon Nikolai. "You robbed me the last time, do not do so twice..."

"Zis time...there iz no holding back."

In all the worlds, in all the lifetimes Sal Norongachi had lead. He had never feared anyone, never felt inferior to a soul, living or dead. Except the creature before him, this impossibly powerful man who had bested him in seconds before in Seireitei. Now there was to be a second helping of pain and by the look in the Russians eyes there were no punches being pulled. This was it, Sal thought as he rose to his feet and grimaced from the pain spreading across his chest, this is where it all ends.

"Lets get this over with..." Norongachi said and spat a mouthful of blood to the ground. He intensified his grip on Claidheamh Mor and with what little strength he had left formed his spiritual connection to the sleeping being within its metal.

"SOUND THE FUNERAL BELL!" As always the bells tolled behind his voice and one could almost hear the sound of battle raging against the lonesome ring of the bells. The Katana shattered outwards and the blade of immense size took its place.

"You av become stronger, little Chinigami...it vill not save you." Nikolai smiled and began his assault.

The Bount may have been big but he moved like a demon and before Sal could blink a fist had impacted on the side of his face and lifted him off his feet, sending him into a spin that ended with him rolling with the momentum and landing, all be it ungracefully, on his feet again.
Blood slithered its way from his mouth and the world seemed to wobble from side to side for a second but he remained focused and took the fight to the Russian.

The pair clashed like the Titans of mythology, the blade met Gauntlet and Gauntlet met blade in a series of blows that filled the air with thunder cracks and sparks. They were on par, it seemed, no ground was being given. Sal would strike, Nikolai would deflect and counter. One moved forward, the other moved in turn, they were showing what two truly fearsome fighters were like when they clashed. It was a master class in melee, precision and flawless movements nullified and reciprocated in kind by the other.

The pair leapt apart and although they had fought on an even keel Sal was obviously worse for wear. His breathing was laboured and pained by his wound. His hands shaking as numbing fingers strained to hold his blade.

"Come on...not like this, hold it together..." Sal thought and then for a second the world burned before his waking eyes, the sky was of fire and every star that could be seen went super nova in unison. The air itself filled with the choking noxious smell of death and screams assailed him in a solid wall of sound.

"PATHETIC MORTAL.... Through the fires of the ethereal battle field before him he could barely make out the towering shadow in the distance, its voice seemingly an amalgamation of the cries of the damned, the cursed ones who would forever battle upon his plain, no salvation, only infinite death.

The world of the real came back to him and it took him a moment to collect himself. Claidheamh Mor, the bastard that he was, was taunting him. That wouldn't stand for the Scotsman, he wouldn't be looked down upon by that butcherer. He took a deep breath and took the pain that was coursing through his body and used it, channelled it. Turned it to anger and charged forward, faster than he knew he could.

Claidheamh Mor arced out before him, increasing his reach by five foot, and screeched against the metal of the Bount's gauntlet. Sal twirled the massive blade back up and brought it down from the other side and lashed out with a thunderous kick that drove the wind from Nikolai and bent him double before leaping from the ground, his whole body bowing and the Claymore behind his head in two hands. The strike was never unleashed.

The Russian had gotten serious and from the gauntlet upon his arm a black snake, the width of Sal's body, shot toward him. Its massive jaws wrapped themselves around his torso and the pearly white teeth sunk into his flesh and like a doll he was ripped from side to side and then unceremoniously flung across the ground.

Sal awoke and the pain was gone. His wounds had healed. On the downside, however, the world was full of pain, the air a festering cloud of decay and death. The metallic tang of blood practically assaulted his taste buds such was its palatability in the oxygen he inhaled. He'd been here before, only once, this was Claidheamh Mor, this was the hell that awaited the fallen and unworthy. The ground he lay upon was of flame, the grass burning for eternity in ethereal flame, the soil littered with broken weapons, shattered bodies and millions of human remains.

He looked to the sky and it to was a blaze, beyond which the universe itself was being torn apart, super novas erupting all round this plane of existence as if the very fabric of the cosmos were being ripped asunder by the power of this terrible being who had chosen him as its wielder. Sal got up from the burning earth and looked around. There were no souls fighting in an eternal battle that had no winner, like last time, but dead ahead, standing 9ft tall and encased in armour that looked like it had been moulded from the core of a sun was Claidheamh Mor, his Zanpakuto.

The flames danced from the nightmarish battle armour and the 8ft blades held in each gauntleted hand did not bode well for the former Shinigami. None the less Sal was no coward and he strode toward him, painfully aware he was unarmed and relatively defenceless.

The Glaswegain stood eye to flaming abdomen with his Zanpakuto and strained his neck as he attempted to look into the neon red slits in the full faced horned helm that was Claidheamh Mor's face.

"What the hell do you want...." He growled and gave a fair impression of courage in the face of such a being.

"A worm who pretends to be a lion is no less a worm....Norongachi." The voice was like swords clashing, shields rupturing from impacts, screams of agony, the sound of bones breaking, the world ending.


"And you're still a twat...." Was the best Sal could do while keeping his knees from quivering.

"No...you are the 'Twat'...You have infinite power, you have millions of years of instinct and blood lust distilled in your bones and yet there you lie...broken and defeated....You are pathetic." The Zanpakuto responded and Sal could almost feel his brain dissolving as the inhuman voice entered his ears.

Sal had no idea what came over him, he had no idea where this anger had come from, this unbridled rage that suddenly burst from dark place inside him. A rage that had been gathering since Soul Society betrayed him, that he had pushed further inside himself, that he had made small and hot, a time bomb that had just now exploded. He leapt up and grabbing that firey helm slammed his forehead against it and holding on for dear life, his knees clamped around the breast plate of the Zanpakuto's armour, head butted him again and again until the behemoth fell and Sal went down with him. Sitting atop his massive chest, he spammed punch after punch into the unbelievably hard metal surface.

"WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU KNOW YOU BASTARD! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH! YOU HAVE KNOW IDEA OF WHAT I'VE LOST OR THE HORRORS I'VE FACED! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE JUDGE ME OR I'LL END YOU!" He roared as the hammer blow punches clanged against the other worldly metal, to no effect.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA...THATS IT NORONGACHI! LET IT OUT! HARNESS IT! IF YOU DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH POWER TO GET THE JOB DONE YOU TAKE MORE!!" The faceless helm said, the laugh like a thousand souls being eviscerated. "I CHOSE WELL, GO NOW, TAKE THAT FIRE THAT FILLS YOU'RE SOUL AND BURN ANYONE THAT STANDS IN YOUR WAY....

“Flutter Suisho kochou” came the whispered voice of a man who conversed fluently with his blade, the command forcing the katana in hand to convert to it’s primal form of several violet butterflies that fluttered around their master.

“Tch” not even a comprehendible expression of language the mere noise was a pure verbal manifestation of the man’s distaste for being once more drawn in to his old acquaintances gravitational pull reserved specially for catastrophe. Many of the month’s that Jin had known the member of seretei’s 11th division had been spent by the man trying to create as much distance between them as was spiritually possible, but it was all but in vain it seemed they shared destinies intertwined, it was a fact Jin had long ago succumbed to and as an undeniably lazy personality he was not in the habit of fighting that which was inevitable. And that my friends is how he ended up here, stood upon a rooftop overlooking the battling pair below, stood too the rear of the gauntleted he had the perfect view of Salem’s tenderised body left strewn across the cracked road peppered in gravel, the man looked about as respectable or indeed fearsome as a used condom, it was truly a pitiful state for him to witness the man who as much as he might try to deny it truly was a fearsome entity on the battlefield.

Now whilst no amount of torturous endurance would force a confession of it from him, Jin did infact hold some small manner of care for this old acquaintance and usually seeing anyone else about whom he felt the same in this state would be enough to cause someone sever panic, worry or downright fear. But Jin felt none of these and that was all for one simple reason, Salemn just loved pain. It was just one of those unbelievable truths that at some point you would have to witness enough times that your mind could no longer find any further feasible excuses for it not to be true, here before him was truly a man who thrived on injury, and it was precisely due to that reason that currently Jin was able to concentrate fully on his current strategy rather than spend even a flittering instant of thought for the safety and or well being of a comrade.

They were now within range, each and everyone of those indigo crystal insects that had shot so noiselessly through the wind’s to approach the gargantuan mass of pure power from his rear unseen nor heard, unlike Salem Jin was not in possession of an inbuilt mechanic that forced him to endure horrendous and life threatening wounds as a consequence of each and every battle he engaged in and was instead more than happy to strike from the shadows and use surprise to his advantage. From his post of watch, a quick movement of fingers heavily reminiscent of a puppeteer caused the butterflies to make their startling entry into the Russians vision circling him at different heights like some sort of violet tornado. A secondary whispered command by their shinigami owner had them revealing the true ferocity of their nature as the signature squeal of pitch unthinkable was released into the night air and at such a close range it would surely cause the Russian agony within his confused cranium. Salem luckily was spared of this torture by the bliss on unconsciousness but more than deserved to endure it purely for causing Jin the expended effort of being sent to safe his ass.

As the ear splitting screech began to subside the tornado that had engulfed the Russian was now thicker, made up of thousands of tiny razor shards rather than a small number of larger butterflies, using this whole endeavour as a distraction, his flash step technique had carried him over to Sal picking up the limp and yet still incredibly weighted body and using yet another series of flash steps to carry him to the high ground, up upon one of the many tower blocks that littered the area, but before he had taken that second set of step’s he’d paused whilst picking up narongachi looking back at the encased perpetrator and letting a small smirk of satisfaction cross his features as he clenched and open palm into a fist, the movement causing the swarm of fragments that would have merely been biting at his outer area’s as they cycloned about him to now implode the small blades cutting him at every thinkable angle and position.

Now many metres away the pair were hauled up in an abandoned block of flats on one of the uppermost floors, the last think they needed was this block coming crashing down on them. The blades had disintegrated after the attack, breaking down into their base component of spiritual energy and returning to reform Jin’s blade, he hadn’t dared look to see the effects after causing implosion merely run whilst vision was obscured taking sal with him it seemed to much to hope that one attack would have killed such an incredible opponent, but even he did not have enough pride to think he could take the man on alone AND watch the health of a comrade at the same time hence choosing the option of retreat to regain strength. The lack of consciousness should have been enough to knock out any traces of Sal’s spiritual energy and Jin was making a conscious effort to hid his so for at least a while they should remain undisturbed but for the overly cautious shinigami a watchful eye was kept on surroundings at all times.

“You really are in a sorry state” the death god commented to his associate, lain on the floor his head propped with a pillow that had been left laying around the abandoned abode whilst Jin himself was sat in a thickly padded seat. The smaller wounds had been clumsily abolished through the use of basic healing kidou but the man was no medic, this was merely that which he’d learnt in basic training.

And so he sat in consideration, was it better to leave sal here and return to make sure the threat was eliminated, or did he open a senkai gate and make his return leaving it to the higher ups to vanquish this problem? Decisions ,decisions but which one to choose?

The shriek, that bloody super sonic cry that punched a thousand blades into his head could never be forgotten. It was Sal's first memory as the fog of unconsciousness lifted slowly, his body was being moved, by who he could only guess and on a level he wouldn't admit, hope. That screech, the brain melting noise that you couldn't escape. Jin, you magnificent bastard....

Sal's eye's opened to half a roof, his body screamed at his mind wasting no time in complaining about what had occurred in his absence, he'd been destroyed. That was the only way to describe the pain he was feeling right now. It took a second to readjust to these unfamiliar surroundings and then the flashes of Hell came back to him, the brawl with Claidheamh Mor...

He sat up, sending a big 'Fuck You' to the protesting injuries, and looked directly to the man sitting on what could have been called a seat, others would have used less kind words. Sal was one of those people but right now he had more gruesome thoughts in his head.

"Don't get comfy..." He said, the mask of caked blood flaking with every word.

He stepped to the edge of the wall ahead of him, its stripped blue wall paper ripped and covered in a black moss, and feeling the familiar handle of Claidheamh Mor held rigidly in his hand, the demon would never let him go not even when unconscious, and its 5ft blade glinting in the fractured moonlight streaming through a broken pane to the far left near Jin.

He felt the anger there, it was pulling at the chains he had placed upon it long ago, out of fear, fear of what he would be capable of if ever he succumb to it. What horrors he would bring upon those around him if ever that beast were let loose, to run free, to destroy and kill at will. Now, he realised, he needed it. It was as the Zanpakuto had said, he had millions of years of blood lust in his veins. Burn all those who stand in your way...

It didn't take much work to recall all the shit that had happened to him since Seireitei. He'd saw kids ripped to shreds, serial killers slaughter their victims, women raped and beaten, men kicked to death in the streets all because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been powerless to stop it. He was as useful as a fart in the wind, unable to interact with the living world.

The utter injustice was enough to tip him over the edge and that capped volcano of pure unbridled hatred and negativity that had slowly seeped out over the years and corrupted his soul, made him hard and jaded, burst like a dam. It felt like his very soul were being roasted alive, the flesh upon his arms was surely being melted away or that's what he thought as the initial pain pushed even he to his limits. Then it was gone, the pain, and replacing it was a beat like that of a bell Dong........Dong, Dong......Dong. Faster and faster the bells rang and the Flames of Hell danced to its tune.

The first flickers of that Hell Fire began in the eyes, they were the windows to the soul as was often said and it was his Soul that was first being consumed, his normally deep brown eyes took on an iridescence that started with the pupil and then spread outwards the edges of it seeming to smoulder behind the gelatinous orbs. The thoughts raced through his mind, flashes upon flashes of all the fucked up crap that had been dumped on his lap and the bells never ceased to toll, the sound building and building until one toll was lost in another and then another and now it was just a throbbing being all of its own caged within him....and it wanted out.

The smouldering flame in his soul became an inferno with a thought and the flames leapt from his eyes in a flash of red, oranges and yellows, dancing across his face, streaming from his mouth as he opened it to scream and producing only more of the destructive element. It played across his body, rampaging, twirling and spinning, graceful and deadly until he was consumed. It all became quiet, the bells ceased their war cry, and an eerie calm came over him.

He looked at his hand and flexed his fingers, no emotion, watching the shroud of flame move as the digits did and then turning to a cracked mirror fixed to the dilapidated wall to the right he saw the Pyres of Hell reflected there in his eyes, saw that brimstone glow shine out, it was utterly unmissable. Burn all who stand in your way....

He launched a flaming kick at the wall and as it connected, right at that very moment, the bells tolled One, and the wall exploded outward like it had been hit by a wrecking ball several times his size and with it the shroud of Hell Fire erupted like Vesuvius and scorched the rubble that threatened to collide with him, utterly incinerating the parts of the roof to unstable to withstand the impact of his kick.

The sudden wind that played across Glasgow seemed to have little effect upon the Demon Fire, it remained calm, biding its time, like an ember in a forest waits for that little gust to become an inferno, and he breathed deeply noticing that his wounds had healed, his body feeling better than it ever had and the amount of spirit pressure he was exerting upon the world literally rattled the foundations around him, sending small stones skittering across the floor away from him.

"Are you coming?" He asked and now behind the voice that Jin knew all to well there was the Bells, the Funeral Bells were ringing.

He leapt out into the night and as he descended, the flaming shroud billowing out behind him like a comets trail, he saw that Nikolai had not moved, he waited, he knew that Norongachi would return. He landed and the cement slabs under his boots cracked and gave way before he stood and hefting the now flame consumed Claymore in one hand like a toy, he pointed the blade at the Bount.

"We end this..." Sal said to the Russian.

Jin raised an eyebrow as the groggy male awoke from his beaten state, his first uttered words being,

“Don’t get comfy” to this Jin raised an eyebrow, wondering how anyone in such a sorry state could honestly believe they were in a position to give him instructions. But no matter, at least with the oaf up and walking he’d have a meat shield to put between himself and the gentleman with the foreign accent, neither individual currently in the room believed for a second he was dead and both knew an encounter was sure to come.

Sal walked nearer the balcony of this ownerless home, for a fair few minutes seeming lost in thought between himself and if the sharp eyed division 6 shinigami wasn’t mistaken, the zan-pak-tou. In the minutes to pass no one outside of Sal himself could know what went on, the silent conversation hidden from the outside world, but what could be said was that it was incredibly clear whence it came to an end, Salem literally had a new life blaze into him an aura of pure angry emotion,

“So he’s that type of guy eh?” Jin mused, unsurprised to see the man before him using abilities with a clear link to his emotional state, after knowing him for so long a revelation like this was far from shocking. Like a cat with a ball of string, the simple minded brute watched as flames danced atop his skin, mesmerized by their deep majestic glory, a gateway into endless pits of colour.

A chilling wind blew through and once more jin was reminded of just what a sorry state his current location was in, it seemed more than fitting that it was salem himself that caused him to be in such a depressing place. But he was reminded yet again that there was no helping it and thusly no use in complaining.

“You coming” can the simplistic query in the usual harsh and unrefined tone, although this time it was not the voice of gruff drunk he usually seemed to be paired with, there was a new quality there, something noble……….Pshh what the hell was he thinking combining the concepts of Sal and noble, it seemed this job was affecting his mental health. Two minutes up and running and that aspect of cockiness seemed to have snaked it’s was into his demeanour, this was going to be fun the shinigami thought sarcastically.

A simple hop and he’d dropped to the ground stood now in front of his foe ready too square off, initiating battle with his single phrase. Jin however took the high ground his figure bathed in shadow as his uniform rippled lightly in the wind, eyes of hawk like sharpness encapsulating the scene below. Here was where this man died, there was no need to bother their official’s with this.

You could have cut the air with a knife, the tension was that palpable, and Sal's flame infused eyes never left the Bount ahead who stood as cold and as sure of himself as ever. They watched one another for a few seconds, the Russian giving no response or perhaps feeling that silence was in itself the best answer he could give.

Sal felt Jin off to the side, waiting for the fight to begin, and not wanting to disappoint him any longer launched himself forward his boots throwing up cracked stone and debris as he fired toward the Bount. The Flame wreathed broadsword swung outwards and met the Serpent again, the speed of its summoning was like lighting. Where there had been but a black gauntlet there was now a writhing mass of black scales and fangs meeting the fiery edge of Claidheamh Mor. For a moment the two entities pushed against one another and then the snake wound its way around the blade and up toward Sal striking out with razor sharp fangas at his forearm.

The Glaswegian had anticipated this and as quickly as the snake he left go of the blade, held aloft now by the coils of the snake, and spun 360 degrees to the right pulling his arm upwards as he did so and brining that bruning limb down on the mid-bite head driving it to the ground before he snatched the Clymore from its clutches and leapt onto its back, running easily across the wide body, his sword raised, toward Nikolai himself.

He got two feet away and leapt up screaming like a blood drunk mad man and met a wall of scales that slammed him across the chest and sent him flying backwards into what remained of the building, driving the wind from his lungs but as he got up he felt little pain. Perhaps this fire was more than just for show, he mused as he kicked aside a kitchen wall and leapt back out into the night air to engage the serpent and its master once more.

It was safe to say that the shinigami was beginning to tire of waiting, he needn’t even be here in honesty his presence only required due to Salemn’s tendancy to get himself in over his head and attract fight’s like a drunk leprechaun once again rearing it’s ugly head. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed being dragged from his tranquil home in a dimension separate to this cess pit and yet it seemed to happen on all too regular an occasion. Was resigning himself to this life style really the right choice? Or should he make more of an effort to avoid it?

Well that train of thought came to an end, the intensity it was beginning to evolve to was becoming ever more uninviting not only that but simultaneously was developing into a headache, SEE! This man even inadvertently caused him problems, what a pain knowing him was. Dragged from his train of thought he was, unceremoniously ripped from his moment of gentle thought and slammed back into the reality he currently occupied at least that is to say if you could call it occupation when the being in question had already died forfeiting their right to reside here. The battle before him was getting of to a rather heated beginning, swords swinging snakes of shadow tearing through the air to sink the intangible fangs into unwitting flesh it was truly a match of titan’s. but that was not the scene that jin favoured, being the glorified gladiator had never been his role in life oh no! He was the type to take his time and find when fate threw him a moment most opportunistic.

TCH! The reserved character scolded to himself watching as the previous inhabitant of these lands was smashed backwards through the air reminiscent of a comet as he was plunged through brick and stone and into the depths of the husk that had once been a building. It wasn’t looking like this was the kind of situation that would let Jin sit on the sidelines, well if he was going to involve himself he was damn well going to make it clear just what this little shit who’d ruined his day was dealing with.

Tossing his sword through the air the blade spinning like a pinwheel as it descended on the gauntleted man the death god began the quick muttering’s of an incantation.

"Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Truth and temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws."

The words coming out more like a his at the speed they were being spoken, when the passage came to it’s end a sapphire orb had blossomed before the man’s open palm and without any visible stimulus it was sent crashing down through the air all the power of the incantation behind it as it rocketed past the falling katana and straight for the dark figure at the centre of all this trouble.

“Flutter Suishou kochou” he then whispered, his caressing words coercing the katana into it’s true form of seven indigo butterflies which sprouted out from the point at which the blade had only a few moments ago resided veering off to flank the foreigner 4 flying in to slice at him from the left whilst the other 3 came in at the rear right.

An omnidirectional attack was always a good opener when dealing with an enemy who enjoys avoidance, this strategy also agreed with Jin’s creed of aiming to end thing’s with a single strike for if the fool were stupid enough to be hit by it all at once along with whatever salem was planning, well it would definitely make him rethink his position on continuing this fight.

Sal was back within striking distance, the flame shroud dancing across his body, like it had a mind of its own, and with senses heightened by the potent power of Claidheamh Mor coursing through him sensed the movement but gave no outwardly signs until it was to late for Nikolai to counter.

The blast of blue energy shot toward the Bount and Sal made his move, he rushed forward, the beam of kidou almost upon the Russian and as anticipated the Bount moved out of harms way....right into Jin's shikai. The Butterflies assailed him from all sides and the big man was deftly defending against the tiny attackers but that left Sal all the opening he needed.

The Glaswegian dove between the debris of the powerful Kidou blast, spun his way through the deadly crystalline insects and launched himself at the exposed Nikolai. The bount only began to turn but it was too late for him to do anything, Sal was well within the kill range and Claidheamh Mor waited for no invitation. The Claymore shot forward with all the power Sal could afford and found....the Snake. The Serpent had thrown itself in front of its master and taken the blow. Nikolai had been saved, or so it seemed for a few brief seconds before he slumped to his knees and the snake, Claidheamh Mor buried to the hilt in its scales, evaporated into the air allowing Sal to see that the blade had gone right through the black monster and impaled Nikolai as well.

Sal pulled the claymore from the Russians gut and watched the crimson fluid ooze from the wound that the Bount tried in vein to cover with his hands.

"Its over Russian....now talk.." He said and then motioned for Jin to join him.

What an eyesore the impaled figure was, a single quick strike dropping him from the battlefield, should they feel proud to have scored such a blow? Jin was more just content to have wrapped things up quickly. A flicker of movement and suddenly he had gone from the rooftop backdrop and was stood next to sal a condescending glare fixed on his downed opponent as several indigo butterflies now tinted with crimson circled the group awaiting some kind of formal command.

With the enemy before them it Jin just could not muster the motivation to force himself to want any sort of answers, this was sals baggage in truth he didn’t even know what this guy had done to bring this situation about on himself, but a quick analysis of the situation had determined he to be the enemy and that was what he’d worked on. It was more than a little under whelming now that all was wrapped up, the scene framed by the ambient orchestra of crumbling rubble and scurrying rat’s, lit by the full rays of the moon, there just didn’t seem to be any underlying giblet of interest hidden beneath all this, it was truly nothing more than a mundane errand.

And thus Jin stood in silence awaiting the man beside him to finish up his business here.

The Bount was breathing heavily, the blood congealing around his knees, staining the eviscerated t-shirt he wore on his back. The piercing blue eyes seemed to have lost some of their lustre as he looked up at the fire encased Sal and the as always passive Jin before him.

"You zinc...itz ouver?" The Bount gave a hacking laugh that mutated into a brutal coughing fit that sent a spray of crimson vomit across the ground in front of him. "You hav' no idea....little Chinigami's....zis iz only ze begining of ze horrors that await you....you-" The Bount stopped as a new presence made itself known.

The beautiful woman, seemed to materialize from the shadows. One second there was nothing, then the over whelming spiritual pressure and she was beside Nikolai now.

Say nothing more....you have outlived your usefulness brute..." There were no words, her blue painted lips never moved, but the sentence was there. Tangible like it was made of the very air, entering their body and invading their minds.

She flicked a strand of pure black hair from her face with one delicate hand and then with a wrist flick, ending with her fingers together and palm facing Sal and Jin, she released even more of that strange reiatsu.

"I wouldn't bother with that girl..." Sal growled and took a single step forward. His foot didn't even hit the ground before he was blown backwards several feet by an unseen force around the woman and Bount.

Nikolai chuckled through the blood pouring from his mouth. "Zo...ze Twelve av no more use for me eh?" He smirked and then with what little strength he had rose up and struck out at that delicate face.

The fist seemed to meet the same invisible resistance Sal had, as it stopped midway. The clenched hand quivered, visibly shook, and the vibration travelled up the arm and across Nikolai's body and then like some giant had just squeezed the life from him his body, from neck down to his ankles, became flat as a pancake. It utterly compacted and blood sprayed everywhere.

"What the hell!" Sal said aghast, his eyes unable to leave the mangled form of Nikolai held aloft from the ground by unseen strings.

"It is done...." The silent words again in their minds. "The time is almost at hand, Soul Reapers, we will meet very soon. Take care." She finished and like she had never been, she melted away into the air.

Eurgh why did they always do this? Could an opponent not just give up when beaten and slip off into the silent abyss of death, it really wasn’t so much to ask was it? But no there was always a speech and every single time it consisted of the same bull shit “You think this is over blah blah blah” “i have friends in powerful places blah blah blah” “I was just the first of many blah blah blah” Do they genuinely think people are interested in these little death rattles of knowledge. It’s like opening a fortune cookie that won’t stop telling your fortune after it’s been eaten, it only accelerates their demise and makes them look a little desperate. Especially when like the one which was currently before them each word brought up a globlet of crimson sputum, so uncouth.
But it would seem they were not left alone for long, from the nothingness that surrounded them void of next to all light sources a body was materialised, appearing it seemed from thin air in a movement not even Jin managed to catch, but it was not that which bothered him, not that which caused his brain to be gripped by the icy fingers of fear all the while a look of wariness hiding this inner turbulence. No sooner had she appeared than his butterflies had been flung from around her and simultaneously shattered into fragments, he’d made no call and she’d made no movement, yet somehow his shikai had been repelled and fractured as though it were nothing. This was a real problem. For those with a keen eye this would have been a warning as to the invisible obstacle that lay somewhere in their presence but for Sal using something like that to decipher his surroundings was clearly just a choice of noncey stupidity, no he would take the far manlier route of walking straight into the shit and being tossed backward through the air like a ragdoll, a sensation that should be at this point somewhat second nature to him.
It did not look as though they were going to be given the opportunity to approach this couple, that barrier wasn’t something to toy with and Jin was sure he had nowhere near enough kidou knowledge to trump it, why waste the reiatsu trying eh? In a split instant the deed was don’t, the bandit that had given them such a high degree of problems now nothing more than a used tube of paste entrails ejected for the world to see, such a precise and yet brutally elegant kill was rather an interesting sight to witness, the division 6 member wouldn’t be admitting it any time soon but she had rather peaked his interest, although that only extended to the point where she wasn’t trying to kill him since if that was a variable that changed it was more than likely his view on the situation would go through somewhat of an alteration.
Sal’s reaction to the sight consisted far less of intrigue than Jin’s had and much more of what seemed to be equal parts disgust and anger.
"It is done...." The silent words again in their minds. "The time is almost at hand, Soul Reapers, we will meet very soon. Take care."
Was that a threat or a promise? It was a terrible thought to have to imagine considering her an enemy, she was worrying enough as a passive battlefield entity.
With her exit made, it dawned on the shinigami that they’re deed here had in fact been wrapped up and thusly their presence no longer required.
“So, Shall we take our leave?” He enquired in a icy tone, his mind too tired to begin spouting the sarcastic jibes that would usually accompany speaking to Sal, his katana re amassing in his grip from the pieces it had been split into.

Apologies Life:1 Mat:0

The flames extinguished themselves like a candel on a birthday cake, blown backwards in an intangible gust and then snuffing out instantly. Sal sagged as the full strain of the battle slammed down on his shoulders but he stayed upright and with a mixture of sadness and relief he couldn't tear his eyes from Nikolai's mutilated body.

"What? Yeah, you go i'll catch you up.." He said distantly and then began the staggering walk toward the Bounts corpse. He knelt down beside his slain adversary and felt the innards squish under his knees, his eyes looking the compact carcass up and down.

"No one deserves to die like this Nikolai, not even you." He said quietly and then taking his still unsealed claymore in both hands rammed it into the blood soaked earth and began the arduous task of scraping out a shallow grave. He felt every movement of his muscles like a dagger was being taken to them and in the end up he was exhausted, sweat gathering on his brow. He took the flattened piece of meat, because that's all it was now, in both hands and heaved it onto the earthen grave and moved the dirt back on top of it.

His task completed, one final act of respect for a superior fighter, he stood and moved after Jin thinking all the while on what Nikolai and that woman had said. The Twelve, the time was almost here. He now knew far more than he did ten minutes ago and he had something to look into.