[CB] Defective (FTM)

Late at night

The dark figure's breathing was labored as he zipped along the streets. He was moving as such a pace he didn't notice which way he was going. All he knew is that he was moving. Forward. That's the only thing that mattered. His head constantly looking back to see if anyone had seen him, if anything was following. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but he could feel something watching him. He knew it that someone was. There had to be. He ran faster, but his body was already at it's limit. It had nothing left to give. The young man cradled the bundle in his arms even tighter and pushed on. Whatever it is that he held it was wrapped in brown cloth. Upon a closer inspection the cloth itself wasn't naturally brown. The fabric seemed to look white in places. It was so stained that it seemed to take on that color. Dried blood and dirt had probably contributed to the cloth's new shade. Several strips of cloths were wrapped around it like cords and knotted to keep the parcel sealed. His body was covered in wounds; some old, and many were new. Each of these were accented by the cuts in his black outfit. Dried and crusted blood was on his face ,his clothing, and in his hair as well. It looked as if he had been in many battles, or just survived someone very dangerous. And yet he looked so young. His dirt covered face looked barely the age of nineteen at best. The short matted brown hair fluttered as he moved. His dark eyes darted about looking for the next turn or alley. Any direction would do, he just wanted to get away. Anywhere would do, any place.That was his only purpose.

Earlier that day a small curfew had been placed upon Seiretei. After two fires, they wanted decrease the night time activities somewhat. A small preventive measure. If anything it was doubtful the culprit would try something under such conditions. Still if they did it could only be assumed that there was really nothing they could do to stop them. Soul Society wasn't sure what to make of the incidents, but everyone was on their guard should something else arise. More patrols were made, and the Keepers were assigned posts as well. Shinigami normal duties continued without fail, it was just under many watchful eyes.

A late stroll was nice. The air was cool and for the most part, things were quiet. It was so nice out in fact, that he had opted to go out in nothing more than breezy past-the-knee-length pants with a purple floral design on their black surfaces, and a long purple silk sash with its tails dangling by his right ankle, and his Zanpakto tucked into it. But as nice as the breeze was, he had also opted to wear a caplet, in the event that the temperature dropped a little more into the night. The caplet was also black, with purple floral design, but featured a soft downy lining on the inside. His pendant was clung tight to his throat, sitting snuggly between his collarbone, the tarnished steel absorbing more light than it reflected. Only around the center of the pendant did it still remain untarnished, though it was too small an area to be bright. He had also had the presence of mind to shave his gruff, leaving himself without the inch-long beard of hair, and with a clean-looking, but still rough face.

There had been fires earlier, and he had heard little about them, though he preferred to avoid bad news when he could. When he was alive, bad news was always about, and it made him miserable. There was also something about a curfew, but he hadn’t caught the whole bit, and was now, out past the curfew without knowledge of it being in place. In his possession, he had his Zanpakto, himself and his clothes, and a letter left discretely to him by an Arawn of the twelfth squad, though the contents he kept to himself. The envelop was fine, but the letter inside had been crunched up in frustration, before being smoothed out and placed back inside of the envelop, though it did have his name in bold letters on the front. He kept the letter in a back pocket of his pants.

He had wandered around the Seireitei, which was not near his room, but farther away. His feet took him where they went, and it had happened to take him through several different streets and alleys, and he managed to get here, wherever that happened to be. Though he hadn’t actively seen any himself, he could feel and smell the presence of various Soul Reapers, and the smells of the fire still lingered over the area as well. Some distinct smells he could distinguish were those of fear, anger, and frustration, but the general smells were burnt wood, cloth, stone and flesh. Of the smells the fire produced, the burning wood and stone were nice, but cloth was upturning, and the smell of burnt flesh, much different from burnt meat, was rancid and appalling. As for the emotional fears, those ought to have been unique to the peoples, but with so much around, he couldn’t distinguish one from the other.

He would have cursed his unusually heightened sense of smell, had it not benefited him so often in the past. Natural smells, excluding some fauna, he could tolerate, from dead things (like rotted carcasses, to even the burning flesh of now) to live things, like skunk, bio-generated-ethane-releases (human and animal farts) and sweet aromas. He had issue however with those chemically manufactured smells, like cleaning solvents, perfumes, and some other things. And at the moment, it benefited him, for he could smell the density of people.

Other senses too, acted for him. His better hearing allowed him to listen carefully for what was ahead and around, and his sense of taste helped a little, by guiding him away from heavy-aired areas where there seemed to cling clouds or hazes of ash from the remnants of fire, which filled his mouth with a bitter taste. But his senses came at three costs; firstly, they were sharpest when he was alert, second, they were best at night, and third, his vision lacked severely for them. His contacts, which he wore almost all of the time, didn’t correct his vision, but made it easier to distinguish shapes at a normal distance, and allowed for better details at a close range, while his glasses allowed for him to see further away, but not close. And with neither, he couldn’t see well at all, having his vision blurry, and unable to distinguish anything except by colour, and only when close or vividly different from the surroundings. To read without his glasses, his nose needed to touch the page.

And now he could hear the slap of feet coming towards him. Before he could get a better look, a blur ran past him, stumbling a little to try and get around him in the small passage, and making a sharp turn down an ash-filled dead end. Thoughtfully, he turned and blocked the exit to the dead end, extending a hand and asking in a calm manner to the tired shape stuck down the alley.

“Hello there.” He said with a bit of a hush and tenderness. “Can I help you in any ways?”

The young man's feet continued to carry him. Everything around him started to blur as he moved. There was no way for him to even know if he'd been going in circles. Each turn looked like the last each wall the one before it. There were was the occasional tree or gate leading to a house, but he ignore them all. None of it mattered to him. He clutched the dirty bundle tighter to his chest and continued on. Still he would look back, but nothing could be seen. He didn't notice as he passed a man as he turned onto another street. It was night time so it wasn't too hard to miss someone clad in such dark colors. When you take into account the young man's trance like state; the man could have been wearing a neon sign and would not have seen him. Still he passed the dark clothed student and continued down the pathway, but stopped a he came upon a dead end. All the while he had traveled the streets he had yet to hit a stop. Each of the roads intersected with another, and that led to another and that still to another street. It was like he had been traveling a single long road. But now he had come to the sudden end.

Panic filled him as he saw just a blank wall before him. His breathing was labored from the heavy running. He couldn't go forward. Silently he fell to his knees and started to sob. It was then that the person behind him spoke. The young man's head spun around his eyes wide like an animal. He saw the black garbed man for the first time. The fear and panic was obvious on his face, but the utter hatred in his eyes shown brightly.
"NOOOOOOO!" he screamed clutching his bundle. "No, I won't go back! You can't take it from me!" he raised his dirty hand at Gravelle. Without a word a burst of bright green energy shot from his palm at the waiting student. The shot of energy was barely the size of his hand, but as he moved further from him it got wider. In the seconds it took energy to close the gap it nearly filled the whole street with it's verdant glow. The heat from the attack made the whole area that much warmer.

The young man, trapped like an animal, let loose like one too. He barked something at him and loosed an energy like an emerald aura towards him that grew larger before he knew it and almost engulfed him. Still at the mouth of the dead-end, he pulled himself to the wall. Even out of the direct path of the blow he felt pushed back, forced away by the blast of energy, which was unlike anything he had felt a Soul Reaper use before. He endured, sure, but it was an overwhelming experience. His caplet and hair began to feel singed, and his cheeks and chin were uncomfortably itchy, as the roots had been singed out too. Heated, his skin felt tanned and tight. He also felt surrounded, like the air clung to him heavily, the hairs on his body standing on ends, though not his thick brown mess of curls.

"Uhm...." He paused, not sure of what had happened. He had noted that the heavy feel of ash had gone as well, leaving behind a heavy copper taste instead. "....Let's try this a different way."

He paused and took in a deep breath. What kind of attack was that? It wasn't any Kido he had known about, nor was it anything else he had seen, unless it was a shikai ability, but then, the young man didn't have time to draw his weapon, so it couldn't have been that. So he was puzzled. It was also powerful, and he was glad he had been outside of the alley instead of inside it, as the attack could have ended him. A plan formulated in his head, and he turned and rushed. His bare hands contorted, hoping to grab and throw whatever they could get a hold of, possibly incapacitate or otherwise bind the young man to prevent another attack.

"Calm down," He yelled softly, "I'm not an enemy."

He hoped his words got through to the young man, because his physical actions likely wouldn't convey the same meaning.

The energy had come as he called it. Power, so much power flowing thought his body with just a thought. It was a burst with so much force it almost sent him flying into the wall with the recoil. No sooner had he released the wave of energy that his body flooded with sudden pain. It was like thousands of needles were being stabbed repeatedly on every inch of his skin. The dirty young man almost fainted from the agony. As the spasm increased he fell to his knees and let out a small groan. During all of this he kept his vice like grip on the bundle. Never for a second did his hold weaken on it. He stopped breathing as more pain surged though his body. Then just as suddenly as it started the pain stopped. Blinking away the tears he managed to stand. His heavy breathing returned seconds after the green glow faded from the area. The walls and ground walls were burnt by the explosive force. The man in black was gone, he felt some relief from that fact. While he had expected pursuers he didn't expect them to catch up that quickly. He took a shaky step towards the mouth of the street when Gravelle made a second appearance.

The man was shocked and backpedals away from the black garbed man's reemergence. He knew the blast should have killed him. There was no way he could have survived.
"No, I won't go back!" he muttered as the student lunged for him. Gravelle hands grasped the dirty man's clothes. He gave a squeal as the other man grabbed him. The shoddy fabric was torn as the man went skyward. The jump carried him up and over the wall. On the other side the man landed less than gracefully on his shoulder and side. He grunted as he impacted with the hard ground. The man grabbing him had disrupted what little balance he had. He quickly got to his feet ignoring the pain, the fear releasing adrenaline. He looked left then right. Both directions looked the same; utter darkness. In the end he went right. His footsteps echoing on the pavement as he ran away.

He ran. What was wrong with this person, he wondered. By the gods, he was puzzled, and a little irked too. He had tried to help, but the young man had tried to barbeque him in emerald light, and then tried to flee. But now he felt pumped. He let go of the ribbons of fabric torn in his hands and backpedaled a few steps before charging ahead and scrabbling up the wall, his fingers clinging into chips and dents and juts to get up.

Once on top of the ledge, he quickly balanced himself to the edge of a roof, and then took pursuit. His running went from a light jog towards the sounds of the man, to a full-bent hunting pose and staggered run. Invigorated, he himself didn't see the stranger on the roof, and bumped into him, crashing him to the street below and losing his caplet. His center was low, his arms spread, and his legs, though punching into the surface beneath him hard, always found grab and allowed him to pull off and move forwards.

Even his breathing changed, turning into a coarse snarl as he moved. He loved the hunt, and in this case, he was chasing that boy for his life, because when he caught him, he was going to........no. He wasn't all that detatched. He still had control. He huffed and continued, he was going to stop the boy for a second, and ask him what was wrong. Catching, killing and eating were not his intentions. Those were primal urges that rose from his thrilled self.

He followed the boy down twists and turns, and even thought he had him cornered again down dead-end alleys when the boy made awkward jumps that only served to slow himself down more. He was almost on top of him, a few more and he could leap down atop the kid and possibly pin him, maybe even knock him unconscious.

He didn't notice that the stranger he had knocked over long back had also been following them both, and even had his caplet in his grasp.

It didn't take long for the dirty young man to get back into his running trance. But something was different this time. He was less oblivious to everything around him. Within every shadow he saw a person where there was none. His ears listed for whispers which were only conjured by the wind. It was obvious he was frightened. That what he had feared was on his tail. They were coming for him. The dirty bundle still held close. He couldn't let them have it, not after everything he had went through. All of that he'd endured would mean nothing. He wouldn't allow that not ever. As he ran he became aware of the spiritual pressure nearby. This wasn't strange as there were other spiritual pressures. This one different from the others; this one was following him. They were coming! They were coming! Using the fear he pressed himself hard, faster. They were close, so so close now. A second signal joined the first and the panic increased for the young man.

One was bad enough, but two would be impossible to avoid. The fear escalated to utter terror. Capture was all, but guaranteed. Closer and closer they came. He moved through the streets, and jumped over walls. But they kept on him. Clutching his bundle tightly he knew he would have to fight. It was the only, he would die, but he would fight to his last breath. As he turned a corner he hazarded a look over his shoulder. Barely did he catch a glimpse of a figure upon the wall. He spun in place as he skidded to a halt. His hand right raised and pointed toward to where his target would be and once again the green energy came forth. The glow illuminated the man's dirty face as the wave expanded towards Gravelle and his pursuer. If he could land the surprise attack he could get away. Kill them both with a large wave of energy.

"What in all the living hells?" He managed to growl out as he followed closely.

He had been chasing the young boy for a while now, and though his daily reserves of energy had begun to dwindle, that extra kick, his stored reserves, had begun to make up the difference, keeping his pace, but not allowing him to move faster.

Suddenly, he lost sight of the boy. He skidded to a stop and tried to correct himself, though pausing allowed for his exhaustion to catch up with him. Now he was aware of someone following him. But before he could really get a good chance to acknowledge the new pursuer, another blast of green light came. Surprised and blinded, he stumbled and fell from the wall into a heap of collected ash and garbage, winding himself and becoming a slight bit confused. The other pursuer was quickly able to use Shunpo, and adjusted his position to only ten feet behind the young man, in the middle of the wide street.

Above him, part of the roofing and wall had been taken away. He was slightly happy for his luck to be falling, since that was the second time he had been so lucky this night. He picked himself up and sort of hobbled out until he had assessed and corrected himself.

"Please, by Luci, Mach, Morri, Nemai. By the hells, by the gods," he paused briefly to catch his breath. "I'm only trying to help you."

He was oblivious to the stranger down the other side of the street, who seemed fairly interested in the young man as well.

"Would you please stop running and let me help you? I don't mean any harm."

Silently, the stranger watched, waiting to see the outcome, and perhaps to make his move in capturing the two.

The pain followed the surge of power almost immediately this time the raggedy man was ready for it. This time he was sure he had disposed of the man following him. As the pain lessened he opened tried to detect the spiritual pressure. To his supreme disappointment it was still there. Worse yet they had split up.
"Leave me alone! It's mine!" he hissed as he turned to face the second pursuer. It was too dark in the alley to see the second man too well, but feeling his presence was all that he really needed. The young man raised his hand again this time at the other man that had been following Gravelle. The young man's eyes flashed the same green that he had launched seconds ago. "GET AWAY FROM ME! he roared and another wave of emerald energy exploded from his out stretched hand. It was a much larger bolt than before. The size of the energy nearly ballooned to triple the size that had blasted down the wall. The green faded quickly from the young man's eyes as the whole street was bathed in the violent energy. The walls on either side crumbled as the green ate away at it in seconds. Intense heat filled the area as green continued to flow from the man's outstretched hand.


It was then that the young man screamed his head arched back at the sky. The green light faded from the young man's eyes rather quickly as his whole body began to shudder. The trembling continued and he fell down like a doll with it's string cut. As he lay on the dirt his body occasionally jerked. The pain this time was monumental. "It's mine." he managed to gasp between gasping breaths. "It's mine."

Another violent flash of light began, and as quickly as he could, he prayed to every god he could think of in the few short seconds that he had. Which surprisingly was quite a few.

Lucifera, Morrigan, Hades, Nemain, Macha, Miach, Pluto, Zeus, Athena, Nike, Jupiter, Mars, Badb, and so many others. The names all flooded quickly, but the prayer was the same for each; Please don't let me die yet. And perhaps they heard him again, but he wasn't sure, because from the proximity to the attack, all he could feel was searing heat. He couldn't know it from the feel, but the attack was not directed at him.

His skin hot, the feeling of a sunburn, but amplified threefold. He could feel the skin on his exposed body peeling, his eyes watering to the point that the heat dried them out and made them scream. He staggered back, arms raised to protect himself. But the heat didn't subside, not in the least, and when the light did fade, he had gained a bronze complexion all over his body, which was lain over with baked red flesh in places. To move was painful, agonising, and hot. The hairs he had remaining from before had shrivelled away and fallen out. Now he was more or less an ugly bronzed version of himself that ached incredibly.

So this was what would happen to someone exposed indirectly to the blast without protection. He thought. It was a pain in the ass, and painful as hell too. He tried to step forwards and found issue with that, as someone was behind him.

The stranger that the young man had fired upon was no longer in the direction of the attack, but was instead behind him, holding him like a meat shield.

"Gods damned Flash Step." He muttered.

"Give me what you have boy. Before I take it from your dead wretched body." The man hissed, spitting all over Gravelle's shoulder.

If he hurt any little bit more, he figured, he would snap. The man's attitude didn't help either. The man shoved him forwards, pressing the distance between the two. The coward threatened the boy, who was now, as best as he could see, laying in pain in the street. One of the few things stopping him from losing control, was also one of two things making him want to lose control; the pain from the attack.

The stranger seemed only interested in the boy, and was using him as a defense, just in case of another attack. But the man was so focused, he didn't even notice him slowly draw his own zanpakto. Didn't notice him angle it upwards and under his armpit.

"Jackass." Gravelle spit from his dried out throat, before thrusting upwards and into the man's chest. He turned the sword and pressed on, sending the blade out of the man's collar and up into his skull as well, penetrating lung, heart and brain.

The stranger fell back, surprised and now dead, while he tugged his sword out, and let him fall. He was surprised at his own lethality. He had aimed to simply cut the man's arm, not kill him. I'm so godsdamned fucked now, he thought.

"Are you okay?" He hoarsely asked the boy, slowly managing his way towards him. "I don't care about what you have. I just want to know, are you okay?"

As he got closer to the boy, he sheathed his sword and tried to kneel down, and instead lost his strength and fell flat, just inches from him. He was still conscious, but unable to move much at all.

The young man no motion to approach nor run from the advancing soul reaper student. His body was twitching violently and labored wheezing escaped from his mouth. There could have been an army of rhinoceros coming down the street an the man would still be oblivious to it all. The stranger's threat of holding Gravelle hostage was as monumental as said captor's rather sudden death. Pain was the only thing that made up his world, and he was the sole occupant. His eyes were open, but there was glaze upon them. He saw, but wasn't seeing anything. All vision was blocked as his body and mind were ravage by the burning within his veins. With the burning came an unnatural chill. The conflicting feelings rather than negate one another decided instead to coexist and further the man's suffering. Alone he might have endured, but together had reduced him to his current state.

As the wind picked up the smoke shifted. There were still parts of the area still smoldering from the downed boy's attack. With the increased wind the smoke started to rise as it blanketed the area. The grand flash of green had gone unnoticed in Seireitei. Such flashes of light weren't all together rare in the shinigami stronghold. Explosions were just as common as well. There were times when they heard nothing, but explosions coming from the 12th Division. Just in case they sent someone to check the area. He hadn't gone but ten feet until his eye glanced skyward. The smoke rose higher into the sky, now there was good reason to raise the alarm Another fire? People were on edge already, another blaze would do little to alleviate their fears. Any more deaths would weigh heavy on the conscience of the patrolmen.

He was stuck, a human barbeque, to the ground, awake and conscious, but unable to move. The boy was just inches away now, also frozen to the spot by some means he couldn't understand. Finally, he was able to analyze the boy, though with some major flaws, as his eyes had dried out too much. The boy was beaten far worse than he had seen before, and had also carried a little parcel, which he still gripped tightly to his chest.

But that was as much as he could handle to look at before he closed his eyes and let the water run over them. It stung, agonizing pain as his eyes relubricated. One of his contact lenses dissolved at the rehydration, because it was so dried out. His lips remained open, hoarsely letting air into and out of his lungs, each breath now a fireball rising and falling in his chest. His eyes felt crusted shut too, and his nose was on fire, burnt skin and follicles and the smell of fire in his own brain. He lay there, conscious but unable to do anything, when he heard the sounds of someone else coming.

The people to first arrive on the scene were not the shinigami patrol. Instead it was two men clad in black clothes with red sashes around their waist; The Keepers. The duo suddenly appeared in the middle of the street as if they had been there the whole time. They looked at the scene before them; three bodies. They ignored Gravelle and the dead body and instead went over to convulsing young man. One of the men slowly turned the body over to get a look at the face.
"This is him." he said as he noticed the young man clutching the bundle. It was then that he turned to look at the burnt street and ground. "Target confirmed." The first man grabbed at the bundle the young man carried.
"Noooo." the young man managed to murmur, but he could barely hold on to the package. With a mighty yank the package was torn from the other man's grasp. The other man nodded and lifted the young man from the ground and slung him over his shoulder. This caused the man to groan from his uncomfortable position. He try as he might he didn't have the strength to resist the other man in the slightest. While the second man adjusted the body over his shoulder, the first man pulled the package open. It didn't take much for him to tear the strands holding it closed. Once they were gone he unwrapped the dirty fabric and gazed at the package's contents. He nodded and loosely wrapped it back up.
"Mission accomplished." He said to the second man while he tucked the package under his arm. "We need to leave before someone sees us." he stated. The second man pointed to the two other bodies, more specifically he pointed at the Gravelle's heaving chest.
"He's still alive." The other commented.
"The other one is not." Came the quick reply. With that they both vanished from the street and leaving as silently as they had arrived.

It was less than a minute later that the shinigami patrols arrived on the scene. The delay was caused by the order to surround the area before advancing on the fire site. They had hoped to catch the culprit of the arson. This tactic had been fruitless as they came to the scene empty handed. They had not idea that the two men had been there. As they had drawn closer they did realize it was not a serious fire, but they still approached with caution. Twleve men and women shingami filled the street. They did their best to spread out to better observe the area. Two bodies and two areas of burned street, a very strange situation.
"Make sure it's completely out!" A short haired man shouted. Two of the men moved about the larger burn section to see if there was any potential spots a fire might take hold. Thankfully there was none. Four of the group quickly moved to Gravelle's side and that of the dead man.
"This one isn't going to make it." One of the young men standing by the dead body commented within seconds of examining him. It was an understatement; the man lay in a rather large pool of blood. There was no way their healing spells could do anything for someone in such a state.
The men standing over Gravelle were relieved to see it wasn't the same for him as well. Just by looking they could see the burns the man had sustained.
"He's still breathing. Get some water!" the man shouted to the others near the dead man. The other man was already opening his medical bag and looking for some soothing creme for the skin. Healing spells worked on most wounds, but sometimes traditional medicine was the first step. As he was getting the items ready his eyes fell upon the blood encrusted on Gravelle's weapon. He froze. "What are you doing, hurry with the ointment."
"Rikki, look at his sword." the other man finally said. The first man looked and then looked at the man laying in the blood pool.
"Damn it. Call the investigation squad!" The first man bellowed. Things had gotten quite complex.