All Aboard the Waterboard (Joint Training, NDE, R)

[MrDoctorDo]

(OoC: Getting a meeting with Royalty can be a real trial. Things can go wrong, and not in the embarrassing fashion. Herein lies such and example. The moral...don't piss of the SIA.)

Enjoying the early morning light that poured into his eastern office; Section Chief Kobayashi sipped placidly at a warm cup of tea. A successful operator within the Sixth Division, Kobayashi often enjoyed mornings in the office. Some quiet time before the business of the day came to bother him. Not getting these few minutes of silence and introspection often proved the downfall of the day. Ruining his mood, and by extension, the lives of those in his section. However, today was shaping up to be quite lovel…*BEEEP*..ly shit.

A sudden alert triggered on his office phone. The loud shrill of the dutiful device nearly making the older fellow choke on his tea. *kuk kuk kek* ”Hauuh…”, a deep sigh clearing the refreshment from his lungs. His wrinkled hand reaching to collect the receiver from its base. ”What is it?”, his tired voice gave out with a grumbling tone. From the other end of the line a voice paused, knowing the sound of irritation all too well. ”Kobayashi-sama. There is a matter which requires your presence. Room G12.” Eyes squinting in sudden frustration. ”I am coming down.”

There was no need for anything more to be said over the line. Even secure lines had other ears on them, and not all topics are open for discussion. The very mention of level G was such a topic. In addition to its sensitivity, it was also quite the serious affair. Knowing just where he was needed almost justified Kobayashi’s near choking. Rising quickly from his cushion, the director was on his feet and soon to his bookcase. Sliding back the shoji that hide the scrolls and volumes from view; Kobayashi reached for a discrete switch.

Holding it for a few seconds produced a slight vibration. Confirmation of his request. With a few moments more passed, the bookcase slid slowly into the floor. Revealed behind it were the closed doors of an elevator. They parted just as swiftly as they were revealed and inside an armed division member awaited as escort. ”Good morning, Kobayashi-dono.” With a huff, he boarded the elevator. ”Good morning, Kino. You’d best watch the tone, I haven’t had my tea yet.”

There are many places in the Seireitei that often go unseen. Less popular locales lacking the vitality of more busy thoroughfares. One such location are the gridded halls of Squad 6’s underbelly. A catacomb of varying halls and offices, each with a different design and layout than the next. Despite being designed so that each level might serve a different, specific purpose...they all shared a few important qualities. They were all pristine, stylishly decorated, and minimally staffed. These were the neurons of the Records Division. The very brains of the Seireitei. They were impressive, orderly...and under the direct control of the Kuchiki household...ergo classy beyond compare.

And it was into these halls that Kobayashi was deposited. The elevator rushing him to the sixth floor of the sprawling complex. ”Here you are. Have a nice day, Kobayashi-domo.” Giving the cheeky attendant a glare and threatening point of the finger, Kobayashi chuckled and strode from the lift. Quickly heading down the near empty passageway. Not expecting to see another face before his destination. After all, work in this department was highly...delicate. There were only a handful of individuals in the whole of the Soul Society who could be of use down here. There were requirements of excellence and exceptionalism to be considered. Quality and professionalism had to be maintained in the information bank. Not to mention a dire need for...discretion.

Even the architecture kept secrets. None of the hallways were marked. There were no maps placed for reference. Hell, even the doors went unlabeled. ”6...8…” To get around, one simply had to know they way. Something taught. Something intentionally hard to remember. ”10...and here we are.” A solemn door. Nothing different than all of the gray counterparts he had passed to arrive here. Yet, Kobayashi knew it was where he was expected. He also knew that the door had no handle. That instead of pushing it open, he had to knock…

With a coded rap of his knuckles on the steely barricade, Kobayashi sent a nonverbal message. It took a moment before a reply came back through. More knocks. A code which the older fellow knew all too well how to reply to. In doing so, he earned entrance into the chamber beyond. The door itself not opening, but instead, diffusing into a semi-solid form. The structure was comprised of Reishi that could be commanded to fluctuate between solid and permeable upon the whim of those on the other side. Now that access had been given, Kobayashi stepped into his final destination.

There waiting for him were more members of Squad 6. None of allowed to deviate from the standard issue garb. All of them armed. Each and every one of them suddenly dipped in a respectful bow. ”Kobayashi-sama. Thank you for coming. We are having complications.” Taking note of the faces in the rather cramped room, the superior gave a single nod in acknowledgment. ”Just tell me what you are dealing with. What is the situation?” The lead subordinate held out a folder simply brimming with documentation. ”Fresh case. Collected from Squad 12. Low security risk. It was supposed to be a rush, but we have been working all night. It would seem we’re stuck. We were hopeful you might have something to input.”

Giving a nod, Kobayashi flipped through the packet and processed the situation at hand. ”Let me take a look, I suppose. Nothing I can do without giving it a once over.” Bowing again, one of the Squad members moved to the side to offer Kobayashi a way forward. The other member quickly reached to slide open yet another shoji screen that kept the room divided into two. In front of the screen was the entryway where they had been standing. The traditional Japanese style, with tatami mats and cushions. Behind this thin curtain was a much wider space. One where the tatami floors ended. Where slanted tile floors spread openly.

Hanging from the ceiling were various bright lights and even hoses and spigots. At the center of the polished portion was a single, broad drain. Around it was a thin level of water, yet drained. Floating in said water were rather meaty clots of red. Above it...a sturdy metal chair, and a bloodied body. From the overall shape of it, a young man. Smaller and sickly thin. Dressed in plain white robes that are most often assigned to the criminals of the Seireitei. Though, they weren’t too white anymore. No, they had become quite colorful with all the blood smeared and sprayed onto them. Shades of red and pink spreading far from the collar. The body draped by the cheap robes slumped low in the chair. Seemingly lifeless. The whole of it a very pitiful display, even by the usual standards.

Being offered a chair of his own, Kobayashi stepped into the tiled section. Taking his seat mere steps from the body in the center. At first he just stared at the motionless figure. Then he lost interest in doing so and returned to the file in his hands. With a few more purposeful glances at the pages, he began to tap on one sheet in particular. On it was a picture of a mangled limb, missing about half of its traditional anatomy. ”His arm, it was like that before you got him?”

Stepping closer with a slight nod, ”Yes sir. We checked his medical records, it is preexisting.” Looking back to the file, having been given relief from his concern, Kobayashi returned to reading. ”I see. Good. That would have been sloppy.” He read on. Tilting his glasses downward to keep them from slipping off and into the murky layer of water that rested just ahead of his feet. I went on like this for a few minutes, before finally Kobayashi raised his head. Reaching for his spectacles, pocketing them before turning to the lifeless...guest.

”What is your name?”, his voice uttered in a most cold tone. Completely empty of all life or pity. A question that was given no response, and so, repeated. ”What is...your name?” Upon a second utterance, one of the attending members opened up a house on the body. Spraying with great force, the water nearly threw the young man’s head back. In doing so it revealed the face once lowered too far to see. The formerly round structure of his bone now exacerbated by the massive swelling. On every inch was a new cut or a different, distinguishable bruise. Eyes were swollen shut. Lips split, and still dripping blood.

His skin a most odd color. Though very thoroughly stained by blood...the epidermis still appeared the matte, golden hue it always was. Something that caught the eye of Kobayashi. The senior turning to the others with a curious expression on his face, to which they responded with gestures towards the files. With a glance back to the medical documents, Kobayashi gave a little sigh and moved on. No time to learn everything about this corpse. Kobayashi motioned for the water to be halted. ”Your name is Mika Kurosawa...is it not?” More silence in the seconds to follow.

”You live in Dorm 17. 5-11. 12th Division member. Assigned to the Bioapplications Department, under Director...Yuun?” The older man’s tone grew more complacent now. Nonchalant even. ”How is that…”, folding over some pages in the file, ”...how is the work on endemic Hollow influenza going?", speech slowed to carefully sound out the words. "Sounds interesting. Bet you can’t wait to get back to that...and the rest of your life.”

Kobayashi lounged into his chair, struggling to get comfy on the unpleasant metal. Mika, however, remained still. His one arm tied up behind his back. Hoisted by his own neck, to both pin and irritate his neck at the same time. Ankles strapped to the chair legs. Feet cooling in the freezing cold pool beneath them. ”Well, you could go back to it all. You know?" Trying to sound gentle, like a concerned friend. "You can go home, once we clear up some confusion we are having.” Koba lied, very plainly. ”See, we are having trouble understanding why you borrowed all of that equipment from the SRDI.” His head tilted too look for Mika’s line of sight. ”We also need to know what you did with the samples you stole from the genealogy facility.” The interrogator’s voice becoming more severe.

”Lastly, and most importantly…” Kobayashi leaned forward in his chair into a most aggressive posture. ”We need to know why you tried to access our network...and who supplied you with the pass codes you used.” And yet, there was still no answer or even acknowledgement from the detained. A fact that had tea-less Kobayashi quite unhappy. Enough so that a single glance to one of his counterparts was sufficient...to have that same gentleman’s fist slam into Mika’s diaphragm. The force of said blow intending to knock enough noise out of the boy to confirm he was still alive and alert. An effort that proved fruitful. Just not in the way intended. For when the strike landed, more than a breath was pushed out of Mika. There was, indeed, a hearty laugh. One that belied they the his physical condition. Followed by a voice. Possessing some measure of strength in the face of such opposition.

”Simple...it is the only way I could get your boss’ attention.”, he said with a continued slew of chuckles. To this act of retaliation, a Squad member to interject. ”Then you should be talking, because this is the boss.” Kobayashi’s eyes narrowed, as Mika turned his head to face the superior. With a long and studious stare, the scientist tilted his head and gave it a shake. ”No. Not this one…” A grin growing rather wide, oozing with fresh blood. ”Your Captain, Kuchiki-shi. That’s the one I mea-” Another fall of the fist, this time to the side of his jaw. A rather rookie maneuver actually. One that Koba scorned with a sudden cut of his eyes. Mika, on the other hand, just gave a little groan. ”Might I inquire who taught you how to punch...was it your husband?"

Another slam to his stomach shut the scientist up again. With a heavy sigh Kobayashi adjusted in his seat. Giving it a moment or two, before speaking aloud. ”Why did you steal from the SRDI?” Another punch, some more chuckles. ”Why did you steal the samples?” Another blast of water, and some garbled noises. ”Who helped you attack our network?” Yet more beatings. ”Just let the old man have a turn. I’m starting to falling asleep again.” And more questions. And more...and more, and more. On and on. Until such time that either Mika’s demands were met, or he became a corpse for them to clean.

[Sozen Kuchiki]

Here's our soundtrack!

Every television in America sees it.

"An unprecedented anomaly in the polls..."

"He just came out of nowhere, and suddenly he's in the lead!"

"Who could ever have suspected that today, an Asian American would be the Republican front runner for the presidency?"

"If he's such a patriot, then why did he spend the last few years as a school teacher in JAPAN instead of HERE in AMERICA?"

"Poll numbers surging..."

"Is he even the appropriate age? He says he's 37, but the guy doesn't even look 30!"

"This guy is reaching at least 65% in every poll for the party. It's unbelievable."

"I'd REALLY like to see his birth certificate."

"A vigor not seen since Kennedy..."

"To think that our president may have a Japanese last name in a little over a year."

"Sozen Kuchiki is, without a doubt, the most popular presidential candidate in decades."

Cut to a shot of Sozen Kuchiki, draped in a black suit and deep red tie, giving a speech before an impressive podium and even more impressive crowd. "Yes, there IS a threat associated with Islam," Sozen declared. "But what my opponents have been failing to realize is that keeping them out is NOT the answer." The crowd was dead silent as Sozen Kuchiki addressed them, drinking in his every word. Across the nation, television sets would play this speech overwhelmingly. Even on the internet, it dominated in views on YouTube. How impressive, one might surmise, for a man not even from the human world to dominate the elections of its most powerful nation.

Now cut to an interview with Sozen, this time in a deep navy blue suit, wearing a gray tie, and with a cold, arrogant smile on his face. A smile that somehow was still so good looking, so charming, that he could win over the American people. The interviewer for CBS, a calm woman with gray hair and a pen and notepad regarded this candidate up and down. Indeed, he did not appear to be the age that he said. he looked far younger. Thirty, thirty one at most. And his looks... By god, he was good looking. Not since Kennedy had someone been so good looking when running for office. But, she couldn't afford to think of that now. He had just started to answer a question that she had just posed.

"The answer, of course, is an increase in intelligence. My opponents want to keep them out, but what good will that do? Hurt the ones that are innocent? Add to the ranks of the terrorists? Keep them well out of arm's length? That just isn't the most viable solution. Now, while I understand the fear that people are feeling, I would remind them that current US intelligence has already prevented thousands of terror attempts, none of which were reported in the media simply because the suspects never even got that far. An increase in intelligence will neutralize any and all potential dangers that incoming refugees might bring with them. It will allow us to keep a better eye on troublemakers, instead of letting them gather followers abroad."

God, he was good looking... How hard it was not to think that when looking at him. And at the same time, there was something eerie in what he said. While some of his opponents discussed keeping Muslims out of the United States as rhetoric, as a potential solution to alleviate certain fears of an ignorant American people, this man, Sozen Kuchiki, spoke about these terror threats as if from prior experience... As if, instead of just a potential solution, this for him was a tried solution. "You're the only one in the Republican party that claims that this is the way to do things," his interviewer noted. But, before she could get to a question, he spoke again, expertly finding the lull in her speech.

"I am the right person for the American people," he informed her. "I'm the only one with actual solutions." All of this, from a schoolteacher? There was no way. Though the record showed that Sozen Kuchiki had a birth certificate proving he had been born and raised in New York City, and he had licenses and people validating that he was a teacher in Karakura Town, Japan, something about him said that he was so much more. The way he carried himself. The power with which he spoke. And the American people could sense it, too. They sensed that he was unique. Beyond any of the other candidates in some unspeakably profound way. "...Are you there, Nancy?" Sozen asked, concerned, noting that his interviewer had spaced out. Hurriedly, she shook her head and smiled. "Yes, yes, quite," she said, excusing herself. "I'm simply quite moved by your words."

---

In an office in Soul Society, there was Sozen Kuchiki. His office in the Squad 6 barracks. Business, as usual. But, now he also had a telephone in there. It had not been easy to craft technology which allowed human world calls to reach him all the way in Soul Society, but it had been doable with a bit of aid from Squad 12's engineering. Sozen was simply giving his signature to reports by squad members of recent going-ons in his division, and was also puzzling out the next move in his campaign. A human world campaign for the presidency of the United States. Certainly, there had been objections, but Sozen wouldn't heed them. He had seen that potential, and he knew that it was the right thing to do.

The power... the prestige. Imagine that. Possessing that kind of influence in the human world. It went beyond merely having power in the form of a deep underground corporation like Xcution. It was literal control of the greatest military force the human world had ever possessed. It gave Sozen a presence more influential and enormous than Satsujun. And this was what would allow him to keep the likes of the God of Murder or the Vandenreich under his thumb, while also using intelligence to stay tuned to potential, rising threats. He could use this power to prevent new enemies, and crush old ones. Kayneth Wayne... Satsujun... Lord Callus... Wilhelm Kohler. None of them would be able to stand before him. None of them would be able to stand in his way.

A Hell butterfly landed atop Sozen's finger during this process of thought, and a direct line of communication went to him, mentally communicated by a squad member. "Captain Kuchiki, we have a bit of an issue here." The issue at hand was quickly relayed to Sozen, and the Kuchiki Head paused, mulling it over. "Who's in charge?" he asked. Section Chief Kobayashi, came the reply. Ah, Kobayashi... A bit disgruntled, but highly efficient, and even more importantly highly discreet. One of the most exemplary members of Squad 6. Though Squad 6, like all others, had seated officers based on combat prowess, Sozen also had secret organization, wherein seating did not matter. Rankings and importance in the real, underground Squad 6 was based off of one's performance in maintaining and gathering information... In one's mental fortitude.

This situation was likely a bit annoying to Kobayashi. But to Sozen, it was even moreso. How many people did something just to get caught by Squad 6, so that they could demand a meeting with him? Over a dozen times had Sozen been alerted that some overzealous prisoner wanted to see him. Truthfully, he didn't care much for it. He was a busy man. And he had a presidency to attain. The primaries weren't far off now. If he could just get that fat man with the ugly toupee to retire from the race, he would have a guaranteed victory. "This young man, this Mika Kurosawa. Have Kobayashi relay to him that if he wants to meet with me, he needs more than just an easily duplicated crime. He needs something unique, and which will benefit me. Otherwise, I don't want to waste my time."

Sozen was about to hang up and send the butterfly away, but then got an idea. A cruel smile came to his face, and there was a faint, barely noticeable gleam of emerald in the corner of his eyes. "Oh, and no matter his answer, have Kobayashi sever his thumbs and nose before informing him of my demand. We'll reattach them if this Mika Kurosawa demonstrates benefits that exceed his crime."

[MrDoctorDo]

It was hard to discern the finer details of the conversation going on the in the waiting room prior. From behind the shoji screen that separated the waiting and interrogation sections, the phone call came through rather muffled. For Mika, hearing obscured by swelling, there was nothing. The whistling breaths that squeezed through his parted lips were the dominant noise. So, with nothing to gain from focusing on the matter...the researcher instead turned his gaze to Kobayashi. Starring the elder down through bloodshot, blackened eyes.

What he saw was most uninteresting. A resting, wrinkled face that bore no concern or even interest. The man was a gem for the task at hand. While the other subordinate to Kobayashi’s side kept his eyes glued to the door; the superior carried on with his job. Even without words, the interrogation was continuing. Mika’s every movement analyzed and dissected for any valuables therein contained. If the young man were to begin showing signs of nervousness or uncertainty, Koba would catch them. If there were signs of frustration or struggle, these too would be seen.

Even if Mika hid all traces of life or activity...it would be noted. This was the truth that Mika saw in his captor’s eyes. A show of both professionalism, and extreme talent. The sort of skill cultivated over centuries. The sort of thing that Mika desired of himself in the future. Except...in a far more tantalizing field of expertise. For now he would simply stare back. Not bothering to act or hide in anyway. Lest he just embarrass himself infront of a master. Instead, he returned to wondering the particulars of the conversation being held…an answer soon approaching.

”Understood.”, spoken with the sort of zeal that accompanies an order. Loudly and obediently. Enough so that even Mika could understand. Seems the discussion was over, and sure enough the shoji door slid open thereafter. Yet, Kobayashi did not turn from Mika. Not even as his underling stepped back inside, and tried to explain the change of situation. ”Kobayashi-sama.”, the old man hollow eyes staying on point, ”Kuchiki-taicho’s instructions…” Without the attendant having to finish, Koba motioned him closer. Knowing the pause to be an indication of delicacy. Whatever was said, might be best exchanged in hushed tones.

So they were. Leaning so that only the section chief might hear Kuchiki’s exact orders, there came an understanding nod by the end. Yet, no discernible change in attitude. Mika wasn’t the best with reading people or emotions, but he could at least see which facial muscles were engaged and which were not. Kobayashi remained an unaltered statue. Not necessarily a good or bad sign…”It seems our commander would be interested in speaking with the likes of you, Kurosawa-san.” Ah! Good news indee…”Provided you were someone of actual significance.” What. ”Yet, it would seem your crimes and discrepancies towards Squad 6 are insufficient.” Insufficient… ”An outcome I would have assured you of myself, had you been more reasonable in our previous dialogue.”

No no. He was anything but lacking. ”Such actions as those you are accused of, would not merit the involvement of any division captain. Especially those of Kuchiki nobility.” Why was it they kept misunderstanding? How primitive were these creatures to not recognize his capacities? ”That is why you have to speak with the lowly likes of us. It is why you should speak with us. Your abiding peers.” How deeply must he reach into filth to grab hold of their comprehension? How far beneath him was it really buried? ”Now, I do have an opportunity for you. One straight from the commander himself.”

Mika’s brown eyes turned upwards. Cold and steely, carrying all the malice that his damaged face could not properly express. A hateful severity that was not lost to Kobayashi. Yet the senior did not seem to care. ”It would seem that our captain has humor for your efforts to arrange a meeting. Especially for the manner in which you attempted to garner the appointment.” Mika’s shrunken form shivered noticeably, reacting as expected to Kobayashi’s torments. ”If, somehow, you can perform a crime of actual note...then the captain will allow for a meeting to be scheduled.” One of Mika’s eyes winced slightly at the words. Fingers and toes curling. ”So there is a hope. At least.”

The reality was a very bleak one, sadly. Though unspoken, Kobayashi and Mika both knew the terms of such an arrangement. Any crime of note would not end well for Mika. Sure, he may get the meeting...but it would be quite short so as not to delay his execution. This twisted no-win scenario was quite the cruel jest indeed. One that seemed especially hilarious considering the already grim outlook of his environment. After all, there was still no promise of his safety. Mika...as far as could be determined, was still not leaving Squad 6 alive. Kobayashi considered this along with Mika. ”However. There are still a few questions to answer. Things we need to know before you can go about solving your…scheduling crisis.”

Lacing his crossed arms into each of his Shihakusho sleeves, Koba made himself much more comfy. Preparing for victory. ”I am willing to be generous, like our captain...” Smug words, but a stoic expression. ”Tell me who assisted you with cracking our security.” The tone of his voice as steady as earlier. ”I know you couldn’t have handled it yourself. I also know you must be in an exceptional hurry now. So...just give me a name, and you can leave.” To this end, one attendant stepped back and the other forward.

One went to open the paper door that lead to the exit, and the other came to stand behind Mika himself. Presumably to loosen his restraints...or kill him. ”Who helped you, Mika?” Kobayashi repeated. Speaking as relaxed as he was sitting. Knowing he was going to get what he needed. Knowing that Mika would pay any price at the chance to live. That despite his stubbornness and wit, the boy was desperate for life. That things like fear and anger held more power than dignity. All it took was a little time, and a shine of hope. A door in plain sight.

”...Tenno.”, Mika sputtered out. His cracked jaw and bruised flesh making it more of a chore than normal. Forcing Kobayashi to reply, ”Tenno? Tenno who...speak clearly.” With another few seconds and labored breaths, ”Tenno Fukujiri.” The name immediately brought an image to mind. A face and an analysis made long ago. Kobayashi knew of this person, knew of their place and duties within the division. It was a fitting name. Sufficient, whether as the truth or a well forged lie. Honestly, it did not matter. It was a lead to look into. Meanwhile, Mika’s fate had already been decided by much higher authority. ”Thank you for the cooperation. Now, if you will…” Kobayashi raised a hand and motioned towards the lackey which loomed over Mika. Quickly the subordinate began disconnecting the bonds that kept his arm uncomfortably locked. ”There are some conditions for your release.”

Kobayashi’s eyes gave a glance, but soon returned to lock with Mika’s own. At which point, the first real sensation of pain sprang forth. The torture of a blade driven deep into tendons and bone. A pain sufficient enough to alert Mika even in his dazed condition. Though the agony was immense, it was still clear enough for him to feel the weightlessness that followed the severing. Yet, Mika could not scream. Not that he lacked the ability; he was simply denied the opportunity. The second flunkie had moved to clasp his mouth shut. Sadly...that was not his true aim. This was merely to hold Mika’s head in place; while a second knife began work on his broken nose.

Cutting and curving through the already tenderized flesh. Freeing the cartilage from the bone. Leaving the already uglied Mika...even more disfigured. ”We will be keeping these as...collateral. If by chance you manage to meet with the captain...you shall have them back.” Mika could hear what was being said, but due to the pain he was not processing it. Instead he flailed with his freed hand, and fought to grip the new emptiness of his face. His assailants stepping back. Allowing these acts. ”Again, thank you for your cooperation. It was nice meeting you. My men will see you escorted out.”

Mika had fallen to the tiled floor. Blood oozing from his nasal cavity, past the gushing nub of his thumb, and into the shallow pool below. Only nasty sounds of bubbling breaths and coughs could be heard. There was no ability for him to speak or articulate, and he wasn’t managing any screams either. So...his understanding had to be taken as nonverbal consent. To which the lackeys entered again, sweeping him up from the floor. Hoisting him somewhat to his feet, and trotting him to the strange barrier that sealed this room from the hallway one used to get here. Only, this time when they approached the door, one of them extended a hand towards it.

A short pause and the emission of bright reiatsu, and the barrier erupted with light. From there the duo drug Mika through...finding themselves deposited under and open sky. No longer in the Squad 6 offices. No longer in the barracks, either. It seemed as though they had stumbled into a barren, Seireitei alleyway. A place without any witnesses or significance in the least. ”Here is fine.”, one spoke, then both of them let Mika drop. No sooner did his frail body collapse onto the stoney ground, did they step back into the light from whence they came. The miniature Senkaimon disappearing along with them...leaving Mika abandoned and alone.

The two returning to Kobayashi in the basement of their division. A stern look still on his face, but a faint gleam in his eyes. One of pride and triumph. ”Alright then. I need you two to put those on ice.” Koba motioned to the bits of Mika’s flesh. ”Then round up Fukujiri. We’ll need to have a discussion with him.” Turning his wrist to drape his sleeve, Koba checked his watch for the time. ”Take some time to rest up first. Tenno won’t know we are coming for him, so we have some time.” ”Sir.”, the pair said in unison before setting out. ”Gives me time to finally get my tea…”

On the surface. Lost in some insignificant alley. Mika laid in an ever growing puddle. With his white robes being stained an even darker shade of red. His body shivering even more from the chill of the morning air. His gurgling, blood-drowned breaths becoming harder and harder to hear...over the sound of growing laughter. *pTUH*, projecting a thick clump of blood onto the ground. ”I wonder…” Mika chuckled some more, as he pushed himself up from the dirt. ”How long they will look for you…Tenno.” While his thin body shifted underneath the wet, billowing robe...one of the sleeves slipped down from his neck and off his shoulder. To the warm light of day, a most peculiar protrusion was revealed.

A bulging mass of tissue, gathered and bundled at the base of Mika’s neck. Right above his collar...and just before his shoulder. A wrinkled and pulsing tumor...that even the least educated could identify as a brain. An organ quite strangely out of place. Made even stranger by Mika’s referring to it...by name. ”I am disappointed, Fukujiri.” Mika coughed up a bit more blood, then wiped his lip. Just to reveal a huge and unnerving grin from behind the passing wrist. ”Why didn’t you tell me another coworker’s name? Someone who still has a body.” Mika snickered.

”Someone who Kobayashi can actually find...and play with.” Pausing, as if waiting for a reply...the scientist gave a sigh and pulled the robe back up. Covering up his thinking tumor. ”Fine. Just pout then.” Thinking back to the thumb and nose that were removed. Having to fight a deep, resounding laugh that wished to push itself up from his core. "It is probably for the best...", grinning through his teeth. "They will have trouble containing it with just the three exposed." Yet again, the laughter tried to surge. "Not my problem, I suppose. Nor yours."

Taking a deep breath, Mika looked around to get an idea of his whereabouts. Turning quickly to begin walking towards one of the ally exits. He had somewhere to be. It would seem. Somewhere he could do something significant. Something that would get the attention of a certain Kuchiki. With each step he pondered this dilemma. Even going so far as to…”You have any ideas? Some Squad 6 knowledge I could use?” More silence. Then, suddenly, Mika’s head shot up. A glint of inspiration in his eyes. ”Oooooh. Now that is interesting. Now how did you learn about that?” Another pause, interrupted by light laughter, ”You’re lucky I got to you before Kobayashi-san. Who knows what he would do to you. Knowing you know a secret you shouldn’t.”

By now Mika was standing upon a street’s edge. Not a fairly busy street, but certainly one outside of the Seireitei. He was somewhere in the Rukongai it seemed. ”I’ll need to get out of here first. Before I can do anything about that.” Mika glanced up and down the street, noticing an approaching horse-drawn cart. ”Calm down, Fukujiri. You are annoying me, and I am already considering digesting you.” At this point Mika extended his arm, holding up his hand. He was signalling the cart driver. Hoping to parlay transportation. It was only after the cart went soaring past him...the driver screaming in a chilling fashion...that Mika remembered he was still missing a thumb. Among other things. The thumb; however, the most crucial in negotiating a hitched ride!

”What a bother…”, another pause, ”I will need time to prepare. Might as well just walk.” Setting off down the road, Mika’s reiatsu began to ignite. Soon...his face was changing. The swelling around his eyes receding. The cuts on his lips and ears sealing. The discoloration and bruising...disappearing. In time, the blood that flowed from his sliced open nasal passage began to bubble. Soon, a new heap of cartilage was forming over the hole...just as fresh bone sprouted from his nub of a thumb. Within moments, the researcher was without any injury or damage. Well, save for the coagulating heaps of blood that still covered much of his face and clothes. A messy sight, to be sure. Still...better than looking like a walking corpse. ”No. I don’t care you are scared. It is going to be quite fun.” Grinning. ”You’ll enjoy the mortal world...”

(OoC: Yes. Mika is conversing with a brain he stole, and implanted into himself. Just to clarify what might need clarifying.)

Later...in the Realm of the Living

[Sozen Kuchiki]

Human World. Night.

"Can I assume that you'll be perfectly candid, Mr. Kuchiki?" The bloated, bulbous man sat behind a wall of smoke emitted by a fat cigar nearly as puffy as he himself was. Behind the ominous gray fumes, his beady black eyes were illuminated by the orange glow at the tip of the cigar. This served to mitigate the effect that the bags under his tired eyes gave to his appearance. Clad in a black suit with a gray vest and white shirt, the man could only hope that his dinner partner found him impressive. After all, Daniel L. Stokes had more than once been a contributing advertiser for the campaigns of successful presidents. Still, there was something to this other man... Something different. Despite a youthful appearance, he spoke with several lifetimes of knowledge and wisdom.

"Naturally," came the response from Sozen Kuchiki, seated on the other end of the white clothed dinner table from Mr. Stokes. Unlike the campaign adviser, the presidential candidate had no need to hide behind smoke. A casual sip of deep red wine sufficed for the abuse of substances. Why hide, when one could step into the light and reveal all that there was to know? Why hide, when one could control everything? And so here was Sozen Kuchiki, a man who wanted to be president. And here, on the other end of the table from him, was someone that was going to help him get elected. "Well, then, tell me your thoughts on this ad. Does it suit your tastes?"

Mr. Stokes slid a small poster across the table to Sozen, who glanced downward at it. "It suits me quite well," Sozen replied coolly. Mr. Stokes seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if Sozen's presence intimidated him and made him fear not just for his job, but his life. "At this point, Mr. Kuchiki, I suspect that ads hardly matter to you so long as they're not harmful," Mr. Stokes said. "With a 65% approval rating within your party just a few short months outside of the primary, it must feel as if victory is in your grasp." Sozen smiled his malicious smile, placing his wine glass back on the table before them. "Why of course," he replied. "I want you to keep giving me your best work, but you're right. At this point, ads are only a formality. Once that other pigeon headed amateur resigns from the race, I'll have nearly monopolized the Republican party."

How cruel Sozen's voice was. Oh, how he knew it, too. How twisted he had become. And yet, he loved it. Reveled in it. Enjoyed every second of having become stronger than ever. More powerful than what he had first taken the position of Kuchiki Head. The Sozen that had tortured the Vizards and brought them to genocide was gone now. Instead there was a Sozen who could do the same to Arrancar, but inflict that by forcing them to do it to themselves. Here was someone who could betray an ally, and kill anyone necessary. Here was someone whose power would allow him an inevitable triumph over his greatest foe--the dreadful woman, Saeki Kuchiki, whenever she re-emerged.

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Kuchiki, what really made you run for the presidency? It can't just be to make America better. It's clear that you have enormous influence, and that you don't need to be president just to make our country shape itself the way you want. In fact, being president might even take away some of your power." The man was correct. Being president would slightly impact Sozen's influence in Soul Society. But, the networking capacity he would gain... The information he could gain access to. He was already the most influential Kuchiki Head ever to live. With this, he would create a legacy that could never be duplicated again.

"There are many enemies in our world, Mr. Stokes," Sozen said. "Enemies who hate us. Who hate our way of life. As president, I am Commander In Chief, and I can kill them. All of them. Everyone who would threaten our good, virtuous people." In these times, saying such a thing aloud could be bad for the campaign. After all, an out of context "47%" comment had doomed another person's campaign once. Sozen, however, was untouchable. He could feel it. The people loved him. They ate him up. He could say anything, and no one would hate him for it. This was an era in this nation where politicians were weak. Where those who spoke in extremes dominated. And Sozen understood that all too well.

A buzzing in Sozen's pocket alerted him to his cell phone ringing. In Soul Society, they used butterflies because it was better. Much more information could be transmitted in a single instant, and much more than merely words or conversation. However, a phone was used here in the human world, and so Sozen too had gotten one. For business clients, of course. Excusing himself for picking up the phone, Sozen stood, walking off to the side to speak privately. "Yes?" he answered in a voice of business. "I am sorry to disturb you, Captain, but Kobayashi released Mika as instructed several hours ago." Irritation flitted across Sozen's face.

"You didn't inform me immediately?" he asked. "Well, no," went the response. "You see, we thought it best to not alert you until we had some sort of other news to also bring you, given how busy you are." Fine, it was understandable. "So then is he still being tracked?" Sozen asked. "Yes, all three methods of tracking are being employed. It is likely that he will succeed in disabling the first level, but not the next two." As expected for someone from Squad 12 who thought himself clever enough to meet Sozen using antics instead of a scheduled encounter. "And any special abilities to report on?" Sozen asked. This was the most crucial part in evaluating if Mika would be useful or not.

"A strange ability to shapeshift in such a way that the lost thumbs and nose seem to no longer be an issue. Furthermore, he speaks to something that isn't there, as if it is. We suspect it to be either his Zanpakuto spirit or some other entity kept inside of him. Perhaps even a Hollow." If it was a Hollow, that wouldn't do at all. Sozen would need to kill Mika then and there if that was the case. But, somehow, he didn't think this was a Hollow being spoken to. He had some sort of gut feeling about Vizards nowadays, and something was saying that the presence Mika spoke to was something less unnatural than a Hollow taking residence within a Soul Reaper.

"Good work," Sozen replied coolly. "Keep up pursuit. When the crime is completed, neutralize and capture Mika, and then report on it to me so that I can decide if it's worth my time." Mika being tracked shouldn't be surprising. Would Squad 6 really just let someone who had taken action against them go without tracking them? Of course not. Consider this a field test. And besides, this was the information squad. The more they learned, the better. "Understood," acknowledged Sozen's squad member. "Oh, one more thing," Sozen said. "When you capture him again, this time sever all of his fingers and take an eye. Make certain that it hurts very badly. There must be some consequences for crimes, after all."

[MrDoctorDo]

(OoC: Sorry about the delay...had a lot to cover.)

News. News. News. It would seem, in the fleeting charade that is mortality, there can never be enough current news. Everyone is always interested in everything...happening everywhere. There is fun seeing news of celebration. There is grief, yet relief in seeing news of tragedy. There is safety in seeing news of danger...knowledge as a shield. These driving factors kept the gears of journalism turning. Intrigue fueling the information machine. A spectacle to be witnessed in the realm of the living. Something not so crassly duplicated in the Seireitei. Where lives last centuries, not years. Where stories must endure the ages just to ring with relevance. Where flash in the pan was applicable to any fad not enduring the better half of a decade, at least.

How quaint it was, for someone with the right perspective, that the living tried so hard. Dredged to make every moment matter. So that they might lie to themselves that they live a significant life, in significant times. Or...so Mika pondered. He, with his own ceaseless intrigue, trying to understand what he witnessed. A wall of televisions behind thick, shatter-proof glass. A display meant to encourage the consumeristic desires in passerbys. At this particular time, airing the news at it were. Again, what passed as significant, topical fodder.

Reports about the recent shopping season coming to a close, and the optimistic outlooks of the new year. Debates about the effectiveness of religious morals in governance. The adjusting prices of commercial beverage companies. The combat statistics from distant, exotic battlefields. The latest successes or failures of favored sports franchises. The crime statistics of cities that neither neighbor or interact with other cities whose crime statistics were also being displayed. Speculated activities of the rich or famous. Oh...and popular opinions about would-be political leaders' personal lives. Even now as Mika watched, a quartet of spokespersons talked about their views on the candidates. Mika delighted whenever these individuals turned towards the screen, as if to address him personally with their ideas. It was like watching fish in a tank. Lips flapping, not bothered by the filth that they allowed to pour in and out. Dead eyes possessing no real signs of intelligence or cognition.

The Shinigami went so far as to giggle, and make popping noises in mocking jest. A behavior that would seem foolish to the humans he shared the sidewalk with. Perhaps, though, not as foolish as the way he dressed. Though he had a very bland gigai; Mika chose to dress himself in quite the bizarre ensemble. Nothing befitting a servant of the Seireitei. No gloomy black robes. No absurd straw sandals. Instead he covered himself with a full-body, thermal layered onesie! It was thick and wool looking. White in color and bearing no real logos of any kind. Hell, in the snowy landscape that was this northern metropolis, it was almost camouflage.

What really prevented him from blending with the wintry surroundings, was a rather ostentatious bizarre jacket. One that was oddly colored for this time of year. Not to mention out of current for the latest trends, and oh yes...utterly f*cking ridiculous. Yet, surprisingly warm. With many dense layers of unbreathing material, it made a rather nice, portable igloo. That looked like sentient cotton candy. Either way, it was enough to satisfy Mika’s need for thermal insulation. Not to mention serving the far greater function...of maintaining his stalker’s attention. The one assigned to him after his exit from the Sixth Division. Mika knew he would be tailed.

Well, more appropriately, he knew his situation required monitoring. The very nature of it was that of an interview really. How else would he be deemed interesting enough, if his efforts were not documented? Or at the very least, witnessed by a trusted source. It was essential to the process that he be observed. To that end, he made it easier to track his physical location within the one of the most densely populated settlements in the living world. Truthfully. It would be a shame if his attire were a necessary factor. After all, his followers were second only to Squad 3 in their observational technology. All manners of cameras, satellites, and deep-range sensors were at their disposal.

Hell...even Squad 3’s resources were available to them. Thinking on it, Mika wondered if they had done their research on him. Not him, particularly, but his work within the SRDI. If so, then at some point during his time in the Squad 6 barracks, his flesh might have been compromised. They may have used his own biotech on him. They might have tried to fill his blood with bacterial surveillance. That particular approach would have failed, sadly. Mika’s own body one of the most hostile places in the conceivable universe. The bacteria would have been overwhelmed by a nigh unparalleled immune system and latent toxicity. No worries though. Antibodies don’t usually take down satellites. So there was hope he was still being carefully monitored!

Fortunately, the human citizens of this York-ish island paid him no heed. Craziness was more routine in a city as massive as the island polis. None of the millions of residents would take a minute to bother about another oddball acting weird on the streetside. Even if such actions included the occasional monologue. ”Haheheh. Look at these fleas…”, Mika chuckled. His eyes widening and pupils shrinking. Almost as if they reacted to his words like a command. ”I would criticize them if I didn’t find myself so enamoured by their toilings.” His eyes shifting to a different television. Taking in the variety of channels and information being exchanged. ”Their minds bounce from notion to notion so erratically. How terrible it must be to be one of them.”

Quickly glancing to the time listed on the corner of one such broadcast. ”With such short lives. This must be how they maintain their sanity.” His teeth glinting in the electronic luminance. ”Fussing over all the minutiae of every problem they can imagine.” A pause came to his speech, before his head nodded. ”Too true. Too...aaah there we are.” Suddenly the screens had all transitioned. All of them aligned in subject. What was it shown before on every channel? Why, none other than the spiritual supplanter. Sozen Kuchiki. The very sight of the disguised noble was enough to rouse a round of applause. Something that did draw attention of his human surroundings.

”He didn’t even change his name. Phenomenal.” Mika said with chuckles and clapping drawing to a close. Himself growing attentive as an ad played on. Some sort of propaganda, whose message was almost lost on the spiritual foreigner. The imagery and subjects mentioned in the commercial were highly specialized. They had mass appeal, but only to natural citizens. Not to mention that Mika was not the ideal subject for psychological conditioning. The only thing that did resonate...was the aggression. The images of opponents, shown disfavorably. Albeit tastefully. ”There we are. Perfect.” Mika’s eyelids fluttered ever so discretely. Almost like...the shudder of a camera. ”The one. That is the one.”

The image frozen in his mind. That of an unhealthy looking fellow. Troubled both by weight and unapologetically damaged skin. What had this mortal put himself through over the years? Surely there was a great level of self loathing beneath such a phony outward presentation? Mmm...speculations for the psychologists. Mika, well, such was not his forte in regards to living things. He was better with how they worked, not why. ”That guy is a f*cking idiot…” Mika’s ear shivered, drawing him to the voice at his right. There the Shinigami met eyes with a very alternative looking youth. One who almost matched the displaced death god in style. How futile.

”I can’t believe he is even still in the running.” The human looked to Mika for a sympathetic gesture. In return, he received nothing but a scoffing frown. The accompanying silence and stare was enough to drive the youth off the youth. Giving Mika time to wonder if he looked just as stupid as the unsettled boy. Eh, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be staying in these clothes for too much longer. After all, how hard could it be to find this toupee’d fellow? There were only a couple dozen of millions of people within the 50 mile radius. A paltry sum when compared to the microbes in a single microscope slide. ”We’d best head out. Don’t want our associate to fall asleep before we arrive.”

Turning to look over his shoulder, gazing up to the skyscrapers that defined the very horizon. The sun was beginning to sink behind the concrete titans. It would only be a few more hours before the target’s bedtime. So Mika set out across the street from his television aquarium. Making his way to a building that was both out of place, and uniquely stylish. A rather Grand construction that seemed to act as a hub for metro tunnels coming in from all over the city. A thoroughfare that saw far more foot traffic than the streets above.

It was through the decadent halls of this monolith that the majority of the cities tenants would pass. Each and every day. Whether they be locals or visiting from afar. It was a better place than any for Mika to get a good look at the current state of the human populace. The result was only a mild case of disappointment. Everywhere he looked he seemed to see different phenotypes, scurrying amongst each other. Diversity. Now that was something good. The only only let down was that all of them seemed to be behaving the same. Everyone in a hurry. Everyone reclusive. Either locked into a phone or trapped in a personal conversation.

The only people making any attempt to be interesting were those who solicited attention for various charities and organizations. Even these groups were plagued by folks who solicited attention for nothing more than attention’s sake. Well...that, and for the slim possibility of charity and pay. ”Beggers…”, he didn’t even have to finish the phrase before a guttural sigh came oozing up. How wasteful these specs of humanity were. Refusing to develop a talent or purpose that might make them useful for their society. The thought of them was almost offensive to the young Shinigami. Enough so that he wouldn’t make it out of this station without incident.

Making his way through the sardines was proving bothersome. Being in a gigai with physical characteristics of his own; Mika was not equipped for the close-quarters melee that was a busy train platform. People everywhere, butting and crashing into one another. Him with only his one arm to fight back with. They all managed to irritate him so well, despite having no knowledge of their infractions. Once coupled with the feeling of disgust from before, Mika’s mind set to a solution. With a swift shove, the god of death shoved his pinky finger straight up his nose. Needing that thin digit to reach deep in there, where the itch was strongest. Scratching at the tender flesh until the overwhelming discomfort was forgotten. Letting out a few sighs as the positive stimulation proved effective in calming his nerves.

Nearly losing the finger in the snotty nostril before finally…*aaahCHU!* A bellowing sneeze freed his finger and sent a small wave of nasal debris into the air. Immediately, as per social conditioning, all the people around him scattered. A few said phrases of concern like bless you, and what not. All of them still moved away. Providing Mika with the room he needed to walk in peace. If only for a few moments. At least until the next sneeze came issuing forth, causing the human sea to part once more. Heheh, this would be his method for pushing through to his train. It would even be his method for keeping some personal space while on said train. Not to mention some much needed entertainment. For now...and for later…

Uptown, Hours later…

Ok. Navigating the urban jungle proved...more challenging that he had suspected. To Mika’s credit, the subway rides were the real culprit. It wasn’t that difficult to learn the methods and patterns of the trains. It was, however, the financial aspect that crippled him. Mika didn’t have money. Mika didn’t bring money! The Seireitei didn’t operate like this. The few times he had ever been to the human world, he was assigned to expeditions. Interaction with humans was always limited. Having to flaunt about in a gigai, and pretend to be human...f*ck.

It made the whole experience that much worse. If anything, it actually provided Mika with a momentary respect for Kuchiki-san. Still. The travel was over now. It took a lot of sneezing, but he had made it. Standing once again on the snow-covered pavement. Staring up at another impressive display. Only this time,it wasn’t televisions. This time...it was the large gold print of a name. The name of his target. Boldy plastered onto the side of yet another tall building. The ego of some men. Mika shook his head with a patronizing simper.

It would not be long before the toupee would arrive. Scheduled to return home after a busy journey to other parts of the continental countryside. Campaigning was having to get very serious now that his numbers had fallen so far. It was causing no shortage of stress that is to be sure. The stress was even having to come home with him into the late hours of the night! ”Just how in the hell does he keep pulling ahead of me?!”, a boisterous voice boomed from outside the penthouse front door. Soon the barricade burst open as security filed into the foyer. Following the suits and earpieces was the big cheese himself. Storming in angrily to his home. Trailed by his advisers and confidants. Each of them fighting for a chance to explain their concerns.

”He is a gimmick. People like him for the name. The character.”, spouted one. ”He is using the same rhetoric as you...only...worded differently. It has the same appeal to the same demographics. we’re fighting over targets!”, churned another. ”He is young and handsome, and this whole ordeal is going prom night very fast.”, yet another included. The parade making its way into the massive penthouse. Wandering into the open, opulent living space. Everyone waiting for the bossman to cool himself off and take a seat, before they could do the same. ”You’re giving me excuses. I didn’t ask for excuses. I asked for answers.” His voice was hot with fury. His body pacing back and forth at the far end of the room. His angry course laid down near the massive windows that allowed him a dominating view of the city outside.

”Show me how he is pulling head.” He turned away from the window, coming back towards his staff. Finger jabbing madly at the papers being laid out on the coffee table. At all the polls and statistics that showed him the loser. ”Tell me what you plan to do to stop him.” His eyes cut angrily across the room at his silenced entourage. ”You’re all here to get me the candidacy. Find a way to make it happen…”, his voice getting more cold and threatening by the second. ”Or you’re fired™.” Following that, the entire staff dipped their heads. All of them deathly silent. In fact, the whole penthouse was silent. Except for...a modest bit of laughter. ”My my. I can’t believe I just heard that...”

The entire living room shifted. A level of electricity could be felt in the air. Residue from the sudden, group-wide shock. All of them turned to where the voice came from. All of them looked to see a strange young fellow, stepping out of the kitchen nook. In his one hand...a massive sandwich, toppling over with all sorts of meats and garnishes. There was such an awkwardly long pause, Mika was able to take another bite from the deli-laden beast. *PAkupakupakupkau*, his eyes gliding about the room, making sure to get a good look at all of them present. ”I mean...I jusst herd tha to’ay...”(I mean...I just heard that today...), he managed before...”Who in the hell are you? How’d you get...get him!” The older fellow said with practiced authority. Didn’t matter though. Him and the staff were all that was left in the room. Psh, and those advisors weren’t about to risk their lives against a looney toon like this one-armed weirdo.

”SHUT UP.”, he groaned. His tone a mix of contempt and exasperation. Yet, too these sheltered folks, a chilling thing to hear. ”I’m trying not to gag on this food coloring you call mustard.” Gulping down another bite, before making his way towards the group. The lot of them, even their confused leader, stunned to silence by this point. Well, stunned...and heavily drugged, but more on that later. Taking another bite before continuing. ”I came here to explain a few things to you and your…” Mika looked about once more to all of the staff, then motioned at them with his floppy sandwich. ”Band?” Another bite. ”I was going to tell you about how...to maybe...beat this Kuchiki character you are up against.”

The living residents all widening their eyes in further surprise. They would have been floored, had their muscles not been locked into temporary...well, rigor mortis is pretty similar to what this was. ”I was going to elucidate exactly how dangerous you opponent is.” Nodding his head towards one of the Kuchiki posters on the table. ”Your campaign can’t keep up. The way he is ascertaining his lead. The fact that his name is almost unrecognizable in the media two years ago...the fact that he as independently wealthy as yourself.” Mika turned to the television long left on silent. Yet another commercial for Sozen kuchiki beginning to play. The noble’s stunning face and smile showing for all to see. Eyes glaring them down. Eerily, as if he were looking into the very room itself.

”The almost supernatural way he has enraptured the hearts of your own, previous supporters. It is because he is something supernatural. He is playing with you, this campaign...heh, this country. Like marionettes. Compiling affections so that he will become their heart. Leaving you as a dwindling memory in an already diseased and damaged hippocampus…” Pausing for a moment...Mika wanted to bask in the cleverness of his analogy. However, when he turned to see his audience, he found them all staring at him just like the dead fish on tv. From before. With their stupid fishes and slack jawed expressions. ”Really? It isn’t that complex...uhg. This. This is why I hate coming to this world.” Shaking his sandwich a bit. ”People as incompetent as yourselves should never have control.” The lot of them still frozen in place. Each watching, motionless. Their eyes just as still as their bodies. Even their breathes seemed to produce only sound...without motion of the chest.

Throwing his sandwich onto the glass top coffee table. Making a terrible, splattering mess. Reaching then with his freed hand, Mika reached for the remote control responsible for operating the entertainment device.. ”I don’t know how good an idea it is for Kuchiki-san to devote his time to this world. It will be interesting, that much is certain.” Mika moved closer to the couch where the a few staffers had been sitting. Dropping onto the plush leather, his light body almost bouncing on the cushioning. To his left and to his right, two piles of empty clothing. Each leaking a fine silvery powder onto the floor. The finely ground remains of the former occupants.

”For the sake of professionality, I should in form you. I was given orders, by your opponent, to commit a...and I am paraphrasing the source here...“noteworthy crime”. I’m sure you could imagine all sorts of possibilities under that very broad directive.” Holding up the remote, Mika began flipping through the tv channels. It wouldn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. In that short time frame, a few more of the staff would begin crumbling like pillars of salt. The only one left now...the only one around to listen to Mika’s self indulgent monologue...was the head honcho himself. Though much older and and in far worse shape than most of his staff, he was proving the most durable.

”I had postulated at a few manageable scenarios to fulfill my orders. My favorite idea…” Mika said very matter-of-factly, while wagging his finger at the potato-looking fellow. ”Was to take samples of your DNA, and create a duplicate of you, with copies of your memories loaded into it.” Mika began to chuckle a bit. ”I wasn’t going to do anything with you either. Just set the clone free on the world. Genetically identical to you. Indistinguishable from you...even by you.” He pointed to the toupee, then gave a hearty laugh. ”He would try to live your life while you try to figure out where he came from. In time, there would be debates about the possibility of a twin. Answers would be demanded, but never found. You’d be disqualified from your little competition due to the oddity of your situation. It would have been most intriguing to see how the general public responds to the first ever case of doppelganger.”

There was quite a lot of sweat flowing from the gentleman’s brow now. Hearing these things; while seeing what he was seeing. Feeling what he was feeling. His closest associates disintegrating before his eyes. His insides feeling like they were burning, but body was cold. Muscles frozen. Skin tingling, as if electrified. It felt like overwhelming terror, and unimaginable excitement at the same time. There were...no fitting words for it. ”Ah, but then I saw pictures of you. I examined your features and demeanor, and realised. Anything I did would be a waste.” Leaning back his head onto the couch cushion, the Shinigami’s expression turned quite bored.

”How long have you been using the pain medications. I don’t really need to ask, I could approximate an accurate figure just from looking at you now.” The human had now begun to turn. Motor control returning, every so slowly. Allowing him to twist his torso around. To attempt to turn towards Mika as he had before. Succeeding too...except at a terrible rate. It was as if the bossman was moving in slow motion. ”Your internal structures, organs and tumors both, are in worse condition than your campaign. Everything you are doing...have been doing, a charade.” The color in the human’s face began to drain. Terrible truth leaving him more lifeless than the force that crushed all his friends into powder.

”I find it fascinating that you pushed so hard. I would publish an examination of your efforts, actually. Ther emight be much to learn from you...in a psychological perspective.” Giving a curious smirk, ”Say. You wouldn’t have a statement for me would you? An answer to why you did all you did?” Looking to his left, Mika found his target’s speed increasing. It was almost as if...he were adapting to his condition. Moving, slowly, yet with alacrity that Mika had not expected. It was just surprising enough to jolt Mika from his seat. Standing now, squared off with the persevering human. Watching, dedicatedly, as the subject reached for a cigar box on the coffee table. Mika had no words of his own. He could only watch in awe as the weakened mortal fumbled with the box. Grasping it in one hand. Lifting it with vicious trembles and seizures. Every moment of this was an education delight for the researcher. What was this soul doing? What did he hope to accomplish with this amazing resolution of hi…*BANG*

The sound rang like thunder in Mika’s head. Causing his eyes to instinctively slam shut. Oh...the loss. For had he not, he would have seen the toupee’d rebel open the unassuming stoogie trap. He might have heard the click of the chambered round. He may even had thought to dodge before a bullet tore through the cigar box lid. Before it sailed through the air. Before it tore through his head. Defying all odds. The lucky shot to end them all. How marvelous...and unfortunate. For when the physical projectile sailed through the Shinigami’s head, it did nothing more than sever his connection to his gigai.

Which was nothing compared to what it actually did to the gigai. Certainly, Mika would not be wearing that one again. Still...as the gigai’s body fell to the floor, Mika’s spiritual form remained in his spot. Standing safe from harm; though, now he was dressed his his typical SRDI robes. Locked in an eye-to-eye showdown with the shaking human. Despite having no corporeal form for the human to see...their eyes remained locked. It was then that Mika’s mind clicked, and he realized...his subject had attained spiritual awareness. In theses, his final moments, the human had learned to perceive the living dead. Outstanding!

Unfortunately, the jubilation was not to last. instead, there came a soft gasp from the fellow’s lips. Then, nothing. No sound. Instead there came only the light flutter of clothing as it fell to the floor. With this last silvery pile, there was no one left for Mika to converse. The penthouse was empty. No sounds except the television. ”It is highly unlikely he would have said anything with real prominence.” Looking around himself now, to the empty residence…”I am not sure what your master has asked you wait for, but I am done.”

Fishing through what appeared to be trash stored in his pocket, nothing but scraps of paper and plastics...bags, Mika finally drew out a cellphone. ”Actually, you are probably having trouble pinpointing where to make your Senkaimon. The environment is still saturated.” What the scientist referred to, was the crushing spiritual density within the confines of the penthouse. Spiritual density immense enough to distort the typical equipment used by the Seireitei to observe and traverse between realms. Accurately, that is.

”I’d be more concerned if you weren’t competent enough to account for the distortion, actually. So I will be waiting on your arrival, rather than procure some sort of welcome mat.” Returning to his spot on the couch, Mika also resumed his channel surfing. Hopefully someone would be along soon. Hopefully someone other than a nameless scrub. Hmm...nobles, what can you do? Looking to his side, at the latest pile of dust; Mika wondered if that man would find his way to the Seireitei. What were the odds that the toupee wearing potato might actually join the Shinigami in their home? Laughter started bubbling up from his chest at the thought…”Maybe the campaign hasn’t ended. Only delayed a bit!”

(OoC: Whomever arrives will find Mika alone, surrounded...honestly, by a mess. However, there should be care not to enter the penthouse from any physical egress. Senkaimon preferred, due to events yet to happen. Also. The tv is on for a very important reason. Do take care that it not be destroyed...too quickly.)

[Sozen Kuchiki]

OOC: Flashbacks in the lighter blue italics!

Kssssss.... A Senkai gate started opening up where there had been none. Minutes had passed since Mika's declaration, and in that time, much had transpired. Sozen was seated at his desk in the Seireitei, with his eldest son seated opposite him, on the other side. They had had matching scarlet eyes, and their faces were highly similar. It went without saying that naturally, Souza Kuchiki was considered extremely good looking, given that he took after his devilishly handsome father. It also went without saying that like Sozen, who from a young age had been charming, but not a player, Souza too was considered quite elusive. As far as public knowledge went, he'd only ever had anything romantic twice in his life, and was avoidant of other people's advances.

"I see..." Souza exhaled coolly, taking in some news that Sozen had just delivered to him. As a matter of fact, that news was that Souza's younger brother, Amagai, would be a Lieutenant for Squad 1 as of the end of this month. He would be replacing the vacancy that had been left by the promotion of Kagami Murai, Souza's current Captain. "If that's the case, then I would request permission to take some time off of some of my own missions so that I can watch him on some of his? He's still young. Still vulnerable inside. It would be relieving to me to be able to keep watch over him." Sozen pondered the protectiveness that Souza had over his younger brother. Indeed, Amagai was emotionally fragile. However, in terms of combat value... He exceeded even most Captains.

From the white light of the Senkai gate, a black dress shoe emerged. Immediately, a powerful pulse of reiatsu emanating from the aura of the newcomer overtook and neutralized the heavy saturation in the room. With a single step, the newcomer's aura had wiped away everything that Mika had set up. Now, instead, Mika would find breathing difficult, as well as standing. This was the aura of someone truly difficult to stand near when he wanted to seem powerful. The room was a mess, except for the one in the toupee, who had been mumbling in his sleep. Now, he silenced, the new presence overruling even his ability to speak. It was practically a power like royalty.

"What of his wishes to be independent?" Sozen asked his eldest son. "Don't you think that he wants to make it on his own, without having to be supervised?" As Souza was about to respond, a black butterfly landed on Sozen's wrist, and the Kuchiki Head held up one finger to indicate to Souza to wait a moment. Patiently, the Heir waited. Sozen was withdrawing information from the butterfly, and was also conveying it back as well. In this way, he could give efficient mental orders to his subordinates. All at once, he received several missions from several of his subordinates on multiple missions, and relayed to each one what he wanted them to do.

The well dressed figure that entered the room had beautiful eyes which danced over the room, finally catching on Mika and observing him, even momentarily, before approaching. The aura of the newcomer was so unimaginably powerful that Mika's consciousness by that point would be swimming. Sozen sent the butterfly away, and returned to his conversation with Souza. What he found was his eldest son smiling back at him, quite curiously in fact. The warmth from Souza was unique. Different than before. What had been a stifling aura no longer was. Whatever had happened in the War of The Worst, Souza had come out very much different.

"Would such a thing stop you from doing what you felt was best?" Souza asked. To this, Sozen could only smile, acknowledging that his son knew him very, very well. For in truth? Nothing could stop Sozen now. Nobody could. Not after this new power that he had obtained... Not after he had become invincible. "No," he acquiesced. "No they could not." He clenched his fist, thinking of how Jinbei's power was now his... And his own power was magnified by the Circle of Evil. And Sozen stood up, proud, tall, and almighty. "I have business to take care of," he said. "I trust that we can continue this conversation later?" The Heir nodded. "Of course, father. Whatever suits you best."

Golden eyes at last met Mika as the Senkai Gate closed behind Souza Kuchiki. The Heir reduced the output of his power to make the room more comfortable for Mika after having neutralized the saturation of spiritual particles. Approaching, Souza spoke to Mika quite calmly. "My father had ordered his subordinates that were tracking your movements to neutralize you and drag you back without limbs when you were finished," Souza said. "That's the kind of man he is. Cruel if need be, and ruthless beyond all measure. Whatever reason you had for desiring an audience with him, you should not have approached him as you did. You are a game to him, and you will lose every time."

That was Souza's understanding of his father. Though Sozen had warm parts, his heart was being consumed by the darkness... The same darkness that had eaten at Souza not long ago. That desire to win. That dread of defeat. The ultimate flaw of pride. In losing to Kuroi... To Baal... Sozen had developed an insatiable lust for power and victory. In using the powers of Soul Release and the Circle of Evil, Sozen had brought upon his heart the plague of taint and twisted evil. Thus, despite his otherwise good traits, his cruel ones had come to rule his behavior. For this reason, Souza knew that Mika should not have tried to play with Sozen. Not when losing life was only one of the lesser punishments Mika could suffer.

"If you ally with me, at the very least you can be spared the brutality that awaits. For now, I have neutralized your observers, and will bring you back myself, under my protection. In exchange, what I would desire is a partnership of some kind. An alliance." If not, Souza could also leave, and make it seem as if he had never been there to begin with. This here, he knew, was a dangerous, dangerous, DANGEROUS game. Playing with Sozen Kuchiki was not the same as playing with mere fire. It was declaring war on the God of Fire using only fire as your weapon. But, if the Kuchiki Family was to survive the trials to come, then Souza needed to do this.

[MrDoctorDo]

Sitting. Resting. Even for only a few minutes. This was something that the likes of Mika could not do. An impossibility of character that could not be changed without killing what it meant to be himself. What might have been mere minutes on the other side...was much more significant on his end. Not only because his mind raced wildly in the absence of stimulation, but also due in part to the mortal realm itself. Such a peculiar place. One that, being the link between the more permanent realms, always had trouble remaining as rigid as them. A topic surely to come up again before the evening was through. A fact well known, but often not considered by most. Except those who suffer for it. Like Mika. Alone. In this god d*** penthouse!

The young Shinigami threw the television remote. Well. Not he himself, but by his command it was done. The plastic device hurled from the table surface; smashing against a distant mahogany wall. The boy himself remained on the couch. Mostly unmoved. Save for his scrawny legs. Oh how they danced and jittered in place. Shakinging impatiently beneath the shihakusho. He detested this particular brand of moments. The ones where there was nothing, truly, to do. Times where his needs were sated. His belly quite full, and his mind quite rested. His bowels unstirred.

Not to mention an absolutely nonexistent reproductive desire. With biological needs removed from the equation, the only problems left were those of creativity and ingenuity. Desires and plans to imagine and create. Things. Toys. Life. Death. Miracles...cataclysms. His mind could spin these thoughts into masterpieces within the mere confines of fatty folds. A supercomputer in his head with nothing to compute. The worst of wastes. And why? Just why was it impossible to work on the questions while he was here?

The fear...if one could be so inclined to believe it. A fear that outweighed those of pain and mortality. One that had been growing for quite some time now. Developing. Learning. Constantly nurtured by the growth and advancement of Mika himself. One mature enough now to make itself known. A parasite large enough for the host to feel. Like a womb populated by a host that kicks on the occasion. Something hidden within the furthest reaches of Mika’s core...was kicking. Enough so that when he was left alone with himself. When all other substantial distracts feel to the way side. Mika could hear it. It. Whatever it was. After all, he didn’t really know. There was no way to know.

Name the times in the day that someone is aware of their own molecular bonds. The number of times they can feel the exchange of electrons. Or even the vibrations of the bonds. Such things were intentionally beyond the grasp of sensation. To small and too integrating into the self...to be distinguished separately from it. Yet, Mika could feel something. Not what he wanted to. Nothing that provided answers. Just...something. Only when he was truly alone. Like now. When there was nothing for him to do, but await the arrival of others. No time for him to seek distraction. No opportunity for him to become lost in his imagination. Time enough, only, for him to await the presence of another. Others. Anyone. Anything that might be coming for him. At this point...anything would be welcome. A nuisance. A bother. Some kind of distraction from the seclusion of his own idle mind.

*crick* Mika’s ear twinged. The skin and the muscles contracting, as the nerves raised alarm. *creeee* It was not the Senkai that Mika noticed first. Nor was it the sound of crackling, spiritual energy or the glaring white light. None of these things had even yet occurred. Instead. Long before the actual arrival. The physical world began to twist and warp in anticipation. Something that most every living thing can empathize with. For you see, a spark had developed within the penthouse. The sudden appearance of new energy. A shift in the established order. A dramatic one, to boot. That much was made evident by the sounds that now tickled Mika’s auditory nerves.

Prompting his head to turn towards the veranda that laid beyond the apartment’s glass exterior. A patio he could not see anymore, for the glass had turned to static. White fractures...like a web of coarse lightning...had erupted in the bonds. Throughout all the transparent sheets, from one end of the plan to the other, jagged cracks. The pressure was shifting. The normally durable glass being a mere indicator. One that came just before a feeling of electricity. An energetic chill that ran up through the spinal cord. Tingling all the receptors. Causing hairs to stand on end. Skin to elevate as though it were affected by the pox. Exactly the sort of feeling Mika was looking for. Hoping for. An elating reprieve. The endorphin rush before the plunge…

*creeee...CRASH* The room became a typhoon. Anything and everything not secured was soon hoisted into the air or slid across the floor. The glass that had suffered such disfigurement before, had now found relief. Shattering in entirety. Losing all consistent shape as the particles turned to hail. Flying away into the nighttime. Littering the courtyard outside, when not swirling into the air like snowy powder. It was after this terrible burst. The combination of sound and force. That is when Mika’s eyes caught glimpse of the light. That is when his body caught the weight of crushing pressure. The very same pressure which caused his atmosphere to shatter. The disturbance which upended the environment he had toiled to produce.

Something that would not go unnoticed, even if it wasn’t mentioned. No matter if the newcomer was inept with the sensing of energy; which he was not. No matter if his guest was too preoccupied to comment; which he could be. There was a distinct feeling within the building. One that faded quickly in the coming moments. One that was best described...as a vacuum. Though that might be a difficult sensation to imagine. Even for the experienced likes of men. For Souza, the sensation would be short lived. A chilling cold followed by a rush of noise and the growing warmth of his own body heat. Mika knew what it was like; however. Having spent a few minutes surviving in it. Having been the one to create it. Though, all evidence of that was being destroyed.

The arrival of a force as potent as this handsome devil...Mika could do nothing to compensate for the faulty engineering of the mortal race. Their structures simply incapable of enduring the stress of such oppressive power. He did try to help. That much would be clear. If an when this well dressed stranger did examine his surroundings; the fellow would find that every surviving door and window...were lined with a strange green tape. Duct tape, it might seem. Though oddly colored, and slightly luminescent. Tightly packed against all imaginable openings. Sealing them. Trapping what was inside. Which, until Kuchiki-san had arrived. Bringing with him outside energy through the Senkai. It was at that time that Mika’s little experiment had come to an end. Though, the Vice Captain might not realize it all in entirety.

See. The Penthouse was now swimming in Mika’s Reiatsu. Though it would be hard to detect outside of the powerhouse that was Souza’s. Still. For hours now. The young Shinigami had been doing nothing but eat food and exert his reiatsu. Restoring the reserves that were being constantly drained. trapping the energy in the sealed container. Awaiting the humans to arrive through an egress of his own design. The experiment? Testing the effects of a reishi sustained, false vacuum. A test that had turned out very interesting results with the now powdery remains of the subjects. More impressively, for his purposes, was his ability to sustain the environment. Well...not anymore. Not since the destabilization caused one of the walls to vaporize. There just wasn’t enough tape for something like that. either way. Kuchiki-san would know that he had stepped into...something. Even with the presence of his superior reishi; Mika’s presence was inextinguishable.

Quickly; though, the dust would begin to settle. None of it, not even the silvery remains of the former residents, would land near the new arrival. By merit of his powerful pressure alone, an aura of safety would be cast around his form. Not that there was any danger, except for maybe a dirty suit. Mika, unfortunately, did not receive such protection. Luckily, it didn’t much matter. The young soul only wore the most common of clothing for the Shinigami race. With the exception of the white SRDI robe that he had...acquired. Though that was not so white anymore. Now littered with dust. It did very little to make his visage imposing or even respectable. Then again, neither did the rest of his composure.

Mika was body was being compressed by the presence of the other. Every bone and muscle collapsing down. Making his physical frailty seem worse. Reduced by the waterfall of strength pouring down on him. After all...the man who arrived had come baring his teeth. The arrival had been a demonstration, as much as it was an entrance. A message was to be sent, with the force of a Captain behind it. Mika was to know that he dealt with a dangerous soul. Someone capable of great, and if need be, terrible things. A mere taste of such terrible things being the crushing gravity which encased him. Something that would send someone like Mika flat to the ground with the sort of surprise that it appeared. Clout enough that it might actually smother the consciousness from his body. Power that could kill...merely by existing. Truly, the message was well understood. And yet…

What might have been expected, was not to come about. This was and is the most vital reality of the one called Mika. As with any logical understanding of the world and its occupants, one must not assume. Especially a scientist. Especially…this scientist. For what might be apparent on his surface, is far from reflecting of the core. Where one would expect to see his flimsy body wobble and submit, they will find defiance. Albeit, measured and tempered. Cautious not to repeat the same assuming fallacies. And so, that is what the young Kuchiki would see. Mika standing despite the might weighed against him. Heh; though, standing quite laughably. His head hanging low as if threatening to plummet forward into the hardwood floor.

His shoulders drooped deeply, and his left arm seemingly paralyzed at his sides. As for the nub that made up his right arm, it remained perfectly motionless as always. Hidden beneath the folded sleeve of his uniform. Being as worthless as ever. So in the end, it appeared just as paralyzed as its fully grown counterpart. The both of them making it seem as though the boy were being drug downward right where he stood. Yet...he did not fall. The gravity was fierce. Nothing to be trifled with. Instead, the weaker soul managed to remain obstinate. A closer look would go so far as to reveal an oddity around his feet. Where they remained planted into the dense lumber flooring, massive cracks and splints had begun forming. The normally strong material, giving way under the strain.

However, the pattern wouldn’t be consistent with what one might think. The cracks did not highlight the edges of the researcher’s boots. Instead, two irregular circles blossomed out in fan shaped patterns. These strange figure extended from the divide between his narrow feet. Seemingly, attached in some way to the resistance his body displayed. Perhaps it had something to do with his posture as well? The fact that his upper body seem limp and beaten, yet his abdomen and legs remained rigid. In any case. The ability to stand in Souza’s presence was but a minor accomplishment. Hoorah, and good for him. There was still the trouble of what that sort of power could do to one’s mind. Even Mika had nothing prepared for that.

”-Automated Response-”...rather, he did have something for such an occasion. It simply wasn’t intended for being knocked unconscious like this. ”Make sure to just keep breathing.” Huh. Well that isn’t helpful. Hopefully Kuchiki-san would find it acceptable to excuse this minor slip up. For it took Mika quite a bit to even say this much. Even automated. By now the Vice Captain had begun lessening his pressure. Pulling back on the asphyxiating grip he had placed on the room. The young noble had handled himself quite well. Not going so far as to cause actual damage to the scientist. He even drew back in a timely manner! For all sakes and purposes, Mika should not have collapsed or blacked out.

The tragedy to all of this was the element of surprise that came with the ordeal. There was simply no way to endure such a sudden shift in the biome. Even if one were to omit Mika’s physical insufficiencies; which were substantial. So while such control was more than enough for the average Shinigami...this kid proved he was once again beyond the average. ”-Automated Response- Message Playback: ‘If you ally with me, at the very least you can be spared the brutality that awaits.’ “ To the ear, it was Mika’s voice which wafted through the air. Except...the mannerisms and pauses, the things that showed the character behind the words, these were all Souza. Down to the pronunciation; which was more polite than Mika’s own.

” ‘For now, I have neutralized your observers, and will bring you back myself, under my protection. In exchange, what I would desire is a partnership of some kind. An alliance.’ -Automate Response- Calculating…” There came a momentary pause. One that was only long enough to just be noticed. Then, a jerk. Mika’s upper body suddenly shivering, as if roused back to life. His head lifting up along with his shoulders. His face turning forward towards his superior. The expression...blank and lifeless. As though he were still unconscious. Until instantly, a switch hidden deep away in the fleshy confines of his brain was jolted. His lips suddenly parting in a wide and brimming grin. A smile so genuine that even his closed eyes tightened and squinted in the full display of joy. ”-Automated Response- Groovy.”

It was at this point that Mika’s eyes began to twitch and flutter. eyelids splitting apart to reveal the slippery organs beneath. The lights in the penthouse still functioning thankfully. Enough to cause a glint off his exposed irises. Just the same as they had with his polished teeth. ”I accept your terms. They are in accordance with my own. I must add, I had prepared myself for the likes of an agent. Not a prince.” With his legs shaking slightly, the smaller fellow did what he could to completely straighten his body. Given that Souza had eased up, this feat was at least possible. Difficult, maybe. In the end he would poise himself properly. Allowing the light to fully fall onto his figure. As before, not a very regal sight.

What hair he had was scattered in random patches across the full of his cranium. What remained was stiff and brittle, as if made of ice. His skin was completely hidden from view by a generous layer of cosmetic paint. None could tell the quality of the actual flesh beneath the coloration. Instead there was only the design that he covered his face with to investigate. A simple design. Which made even his skeletal features harder to discern. Regardless of the lighting. Which is the way it was supposed to be.

After all, no one would apply that much foundation just for the fun of it. They did it to hid some serious insecurities. The kind that might arise from being a cripple...instead of perfect. "Without limbs you say...", Mika glanced down to the empty, folded sleeve. "Well. They would have found me less of a chore than most." For a moment, he was almost tempted to laugh at himself. ”Neutralized. I should probably feel something like...disappointment. Preferring that they received equal or worse treatment than what they would have given me." Dipping his head a bit, still smirking. "The efficiency though..."

"With them gone...that would mean this is now the best opportunity for us to speak confidentially?” Glancing around the room. Examining all the devices that required electricity to be fed into them. The ones that still connected to the human world’s grid. The ones still working. ”If the only people in the world who know we are here, are out of the picture...then we can’t get much more isolated.” Eyes darting back to Souza. ”Maybe you could share some data with me. Particularly the information regarding your need, or desire for an ally.” Mika’s smirk, finally receding.

”It is no surprise that someone like me would need such a resource. I can’t reach the top shelf half the time.” The missing right arm coming back to mind. ”You, possessing all you faculties, do not seem to be in need of anything.” Mika’s tone turning away from the lighthearted observations. Becoming more attuned to the severity that the situation might entail. ”What problem could you not solve on your own…” Truly. The imbalance in this equation must be...irrefutable. Almighty.

[Souza Kuchiki]

"With them gone...that would mean this is now the best opportunity for us to speak confidentially?” It was a valid desire, wanting to speak confidentially. "We can," Souza replied coolly. It was also difficult to come by if you were anywhere near being in business with Sozen Kuchiki. After all, it was Sozen who ran the information dissemination squad. If there was anything to know, then Sozen should know it...Would know it. Even words uttered in complete confidence, Sozen could inevitably learn about. That was the kind of power that he wielded. So, naturally, this was actually, at least as far as Mika would be concerned in future, a very rare opportunity.

”If the only people in the world who know we are here, are out of the picture...then we can’t get much more isolated. Maybe you could share some data with me. Particularly the information regarding your need, or desire for an ally. You, possessing all you faculties, do not seem to be in need of anything. ”What problem could you not solve on your own…” Souza, with confidence in every single word that he spoke, began, only briefly, to explain his mindset first. "Allies are always beneficial, no matter how strong you are," he said. "Who's to say that you'll always be as strong as you are in any given moment? That's when you need comrades who will assist you."

This, so far, was what Souza was saying just in relation to his mindset. However, Mika did have a point. Souza did desire an ally for more than just the sake of an ally. It was also true that he had been building alliances and a potential mission team for himself, but even then, it wasn't for the sake merely of recruiting that he was here. Souza thought back on all of his experiences when answering this question. Not just the time he had spent with the Five Prodigies in the academy, but also his time with his love... And when she betrayed him. The mindset possessed by the one called "Harsh Souza," wherein only victory was important, even over teamwork.

"The Kuchiki Family has grown immensely powerful these past few years," Souza said. "To the point where it has no rivals. It's not impossible that if the Kuchiki family wanted to take over Soul Society by force, we could. As it is, we already run mostly everything legally. That isn't an issue. We're strong. Even if in the future we lose some strength, we'll never fall in the way that the other noble families each have in their past. That's impossible for the current Kuchiki name." Unlike the Shihoin, who fell because of a traitorous Head, or the Kawadas, who were snubbed by an Espada, the Kuchiki family could never lose its hold on Soul Society. Its absolute dominance.

"But, with that strength has also come challenges. The challenge that I must overcome if I am to lead the family. Sozen Kuchiki, my father, is strong. Far stronger than I am. Even with a powerful team, and many allies, I might not have what it takes to overcome him. Yet, if I am to successfully protect this family after all it has gained, and keep it shining as brightly as ever, then not only will I need to reduce the cruelty behind its mechanisms, but I will need to overcome my father and be capable of defeating him and his version of the Kuchiki family. With my own resources." Considering the weight of that task, and how absolutely impossible it seemed, Souza shook his head with a sad smile.

"I can't do that in my current state. In my current state, I can overcome many enemies. Using Zone II and Emperor Soul, my greatest powers, I can even overcome a high level Captain. Yet, inside me exists another me... Another Souza. And, like me, he's strong. Using high level combat and abilities such as Zone I and Pressure Gaze, he has overcome such opponents as Anton of Xcution and Harle of Squad 2. Yet, even then, it isn't enough to defeat my father. These two halves of mine are strong individually. I need them to not be halves, however. What I need is a modification of my soul itself! To be made whole, so that I might triumph over my father."

Souza allowed these words to hang in the air momentarily. It must have sounded crazy, right? The very idea that his soul could possess two people.. That these two halves could be made into one whole, and thus create a new, even more powerful Souza... That sounded ridiculous. Anyone else would have thought it impossible. They might even have laughed. Souza thought, however, that something about Mika... Something about this person said that he was up to the task. Something about this person said that despite how different he was... He was impressive... And despite anything else, he too valued alliances, perhaps even friendship. And if they could be allies, well that was a good start.

[MrDoctorDo]

Auspicious. Yes. That is the word. There were many that could have worked. Dangerous. Outlandish. Coincidental. Hell, even hilarious. All of these might have sufficed. However, the moment was above all things auspicious. For what was being proposed by the mighty prince was something truly fortuitous. The chance to be involved in affairs of truly historic proportions. The fate of a dynasty. The quarreling of father and son.

A tale mirroring the biblical. And here a peasant stood. Yes, Mika was very aware of his place in the eyes of the world. Yet, despite titles or power, he was being invited into the threshold. Into a world of opportunities. Oh the things he could do with such an offer. Hiding his glee at such a prospect would prove the real challenge. Made worse by the highlights that his face paint created. Then again, Souza was a royal heir. Trained to see both the obvious and subtle nuances of people's behavior. So rather than hide it...

"Excuse me.", odd young man pleaded. With all the formality befitting his noble patron. Then, ruining the gesture, he snorted and twittered in gleeful laughter. Nothing subtle, either. No. Having to quickly grasp his mouth with his one hand. Clenching tight as if to smother the sounds of the giggles. Sadly they just kept coming. No matter what he did. No matter what he imagined in his capable thoughts. Unbalanced formulae. Spoiled research samples. Spoiled milk. F*cking status updates… None of it worked. Instead, he had to work the chuckles out of his system the natural way.

Fortunately his lungs were weakened by the oppressive Spiritual Pressure that Souza had laid down onto him. In time, he was choking. Desperate for air. Laughter coming to a murmur, and then ending with a whimper thereafter. Leaving nothing but awkwardness in the air. Mika’s brown eyes finally opening to look into the Kuchiki’s once more. ”Ah-hmm…” Taking a second to straighten himself out. ”So this is what empathy feels like.” Shaking his head, pulling his hand from his lips. Paint smeared to reveal the sickly, golden skin underneath. Smoke stained teeth brimming from behind the cover of thin fingers. ”I can assure you. There is no one alive who could understand your patricidal thoughts more than I~”

Mika turned now, from his...well, guest. Moving towards the thick cushioned couch that dominated the center of the living space. His one hand reaching down to swipe at a pile of...person, that still littered the seat. Looking for something in the ashy remains of that poor soul. ”Though I tend to choose my opponents with much more care than you. My own father not being anywhere near as dangerous as yours.” Swiping some more, he found what he was looking for. A heavily creased magazine. One whose form had be squeezed out of it by a very sweaty hand. The sight of this causing the young man to smirk just a bit wider. ”However, I am also not…gifted, as you.”

Turning back around now; the scrawny fellow flicked his recovered tabloid up under his nub of a right arm. There being just enough flesh and bone to actually press against the pamphlet. Yet pinning such a light and insignificant thing, was all it could manage. Eyes narrowing as Mika took his time in examining the young noble, ”No. Not in the least.” Tilting his head. Carefully applying the Doctor’s Eye to the anatomical and genetic features of the Kuchiki. Tall. Handsome. External Symmetry reaching nearly 98%. Not to mention the fully formed, functioning limbs. Mika couldn’t help but shake his head and give an embittered sigh. Though, maybe...just maybe he could play it off as a condescending scoff. ”I might not hate my father so much, had he given me all that yours has given you.” Issuing another shrug. ”Still...I will help you with this goal of yours. And my rate will be very agreeable to you, I am sure.”

Turning now, the younger Shinigami began wandering away from the conversation. Heading towards a small egress that left the living room. Moving towards a door that was just out of sight. Disappearing behind the rich, mahogany barrier. Gone from Souza’s sight. Though, not out of earshot. As was quickly made apparent by the sounds of light switches, boots on tile, and the unmistakable sound of a metallic seat hitting a matching commode. Pretty soon there was a relaxed sigh, as the hidden Shinigami got comfy. Now. I know what you are thinking. This mutha fu…, but let’s be fair.

If his entire afternoon, several hours by now, had been nothing but sitting around and eating food. To be suddenly interrupted by an exploding wall of glass and several G’s of force dropping on his body. Bowels included. One might expect that the need to poo would be quite great. I mean f***. The most powerful prince from your world kicks in your door, squashes your intestines, then says he needs you your help in an ambiguous task that includes “defeating” his father. King of f***ers who are hard to kill. It was only fair that Mika drop a bomb of his own at some point, am-I-right. So there was going to be a brief interlude from the maniacal scheming, and clandestine meeting. Though, Mika had quite the weakness for gabbing. ”I’m going to be your personal physician.”

The request, though very specific, should not come as a shock. If Soza had any information on the man he sought to employ; then he would be fully aware of Mika’s talents. I mean, come on. An officer of an intelligence office. Of course his ever decision would be an informed one. As such, he would know at least a little about what drove this odd fellow. About the record he had within the Seireitei. The bad: mediocre Academy grades -miserable combat performances-, unsatisfactory records within the SRDI, numerous criminal violations...including a particularly troubling confrontation with Squad 6 -and its Vice Captain-. The good: perfect scores concerning the sciences -notably the Healing Arts-, the breaking of the all-time record for most completed projects by a SRDI first year, the parturition of the first ever...organic Zanpakuto. The thing he had done. The things he had been caught doing. Whether criminal or unnatural; all were phenomenal.

No matter what trivialities his critics could raise, no one was denying his success. Nor the passion that propelled it. As such, Souza should find the request most fitting. For what could be better payment, than a patient of such impeccable husbandry? Imagine what someone like Mika, could learn from someone like Sozen. Or the closest facsimile…”I can learn much from a specimen such as you.” Blunt, and with no indication of hesitation or apology. ”In medicine, quality of information can only be ascertained by three methods. Dissecting the dead, curing the dying, or...breaking the living.” No sugar to help that medicine go down. ”Trouble is, you need someone who won’t completely break to truly test the limits. So, that is what I need from you. Someone who won...can’t allow themselves to break.” At least with Mika, there wasn’t any subtext. While what he said might be crude and direct; it was still transparent.

The cliche that someone is doing someone else a favor by helping them. Never before had it applied as greatly as now. At least, such was the impact in Mika’s mind. Since he could think of no one in all the realms more qualified than himself. The one thing he could afford himself total confidence, without needing to question. ”To protect my investment; you’ll have the best doctor available. Myself.” It is hard to call it conceited, given that it was fact. ”For all purposes. Other than those yearly examinations the Court Guard requires of you. That banal paperwork and pointless questionnaire can got to some lackey.” Some fresh sounds of bodily function reverberating from within the washroom. Adding some not-so-charming character to his words. ”I’m sure that will help with keeping up appearances. I’m also sure you will find that the easiest clause to accept.”

Mika’s voice trailed, dying down into a less satisfied tone. ”You mentioned, copiously…”, another unpleasant toot, ”That there is a second Souza. One...inside the other.” There came a pause, with both his speech and other noises. ”Shinigami, especially those of your caliber, are knowledgeable about affairs of the…soul.” Another pause, though, this his voice seemed to shiver. Perhaps in with joy? ”You know how personal they can be. What sort of trials go into understanding their true natures.” For Shinigami, the soul...the self...it was both identity and power. In one. It took most Soul Reapers decades, centuries even, to develop understanding of themselves. Of their true soul. ”While I guarantee I can aid you in uniting these pieces you talk about; you must know what such a process will entail. The dangers.” Though his face remained hidden behind the door, the satisfaction in his timbre was audible. ”Are you willing to trust anyone with such sensitive knowledge?”

Mika turning to look at his painted face in the massive bathroom mirror. ”Myself, in particular.” Dead eyes catching themselves in the gaze. Analyzing the soul that stared back. Remembering all he had been called in his life. How so many had treated him. How…heh, he had treated so many in return. A wicked little curl bringing up the edges of his lips. Turning away from the reflection, looking to the barrier shut barrier that divided them. ”Why would you want to confide such things with someone like me?” This, as all questions with nobility, must each in them contain some amount of rhetoric. There was no real need of an answer. The prince had already spoke much of his mind about the affair. What use he saw in Mika, he was going to exploit. The risks that might go with such utilization...already considered and conceded. Still, it would be nice to hear the logic. Be it glowing praise, or stark reality. Whether he was first choice or last.

In the living room. Away from their continued conversation. The television continued to flicker images. Despite the great mess that had been made within the penthouse, the large monitor still operated. Left on the channel that Mika had been enjoying before the Kuchiki’s arrival. It seemed to be dialed to a news network. A scribbling of mortal world letters were plastered in almost every corner of the broadcast. Letters in the corners. Letters scrolling across the bottom. At the center of the shot; a rather stern looking young woman. She was speaking, though the volume down, in a very assertive way. Something troubling her.

Soon an image arose by her head. A depiction of law enforcement, and symbols of caution and danger. The woman continued to speak with urgency. The symbol fading away to a video feed. One that was very poorly recorded, with details lost and blurred. Images of crowded places. Underground. Subways? Swarming with people. Citizens soon breaking into a run. A flurry of movement and disorienting speed. Showing indistinctly, a separate group of people charging down another. It seemed like a riot. Violent attacks being issued by a fraction of the populace. The video shrank to occupy the top left corner of the broadcast once more. The news reporter returning to the forefront of the frame. Continuing to speak in muted distress. Just what the hell was going o-*flussssshhhhh*

From the bathroom there was movement once again. A fan turning on. A sink tap opening and closing. Soon the door swung open and the smaller Shinigami strutted out quite refreshed. Relieved, even. Drying his sudsy hand with what looked to be a veeeery luxurious hand towel. One, somehow, made with silk smooth fur? And such a bold color of unnatural blonde fur. Rolling his fingers through the material, he stopped to stare and ponder it. Just what in the hell kind of animal did this come off of. That is when it struck him. A fleeting detail from memory. Mika’s head turning back to the living room. In the direction of the couches and Tv.

There, where all the piles of people dust had been before Souza’s boisterous arrival. Laying on the floor. Snagged on the leg of the table. Another hand cloth of the same blonde fur. Though, looking much more distinct than the one he found in the bathroom. Greasy and a bit more worn. Bearing an uncanny resemblance to a headpiece. Or in the layman, a wig. The very same one that had floated gently to the ground when turned that one loud mouthed soul to ash those few hours before. Realizing just what he had been using this whole ti-well, he just dropped the spare toupee where he stood. Having no more interest in getting his hand clean. ”Anyways…”

”Someone as familiar with control and authority as you...must have your own conditions for this partnership.” Reaching into the crease of his worn, and dirtied SRDI robe; Mika drew out a peculiar trinket. A long, heavily engraved pipe. One that seemed to be of the straight stem variety. Undoubtedly used for opiates, and other excessively powerful narcotics. ”I find myself delighted by the venture you have proposed. I can’t anticipate any conditions that would shirk me away from the opportunity.” Without lighting the bowl at the end of the stem. Instead, fresh smoke just billowed forth in the moment. A thick cloud of it rolling from his mouth with every word he spoke there after. Being strained between his large teeth once his grin returned. ”Of course, you could prove me wrong.”