Tears in the Paint (PvP, DP, R)

[MrDoctorDo]

Thread Title: Tears in the Paint

Participants: Kaijin Quinn and Mika

World: Soul Society

Death Setting: Damage Permanent

Location: Maggot’s Nest, the high-security prison hidden within the garden section of the Squad 2 facilities.

Circumstances: The Maggot’s Nest is a prison designed to hold the majority of Seireitei criminals and offenders. Unlike the towers and infinitely deep pits exclusively reserved for the exemplary criminal minds, the Maggot’s Nest is not without its own dangerous minds. As such, it is put under the direct and capable supervision of the Second Division. It is the duty of this Squad to maintain the prison, and take responsibility for its inhabitants. So when the new is shared...that a bloody riot has broken out within the confines of the Nest...a call is made to the highest levels. In this particular case, the situation required nothing less than the presence of the Captain herself. Knowing the particular commander in question, it would certainly appear as a most daunting challenge for her skills to reconcile. While on the inside...a commonplace culprit laid in wait amongst the chaos. Biding his time for an escape. Craving freedom within every molecule of his soul.

Special Conditions: The Maggot’s Nest has a very strict policy on weapons. The facility is a very large and very spacious underground structure. Inside, there are no cells or bars. Prisoners walk about freely, and thus, weapons are not permitted inside. As a result, neither combatant will have access to their Zanpakuto. In addition, the riot raging around the combatants will provide constant danger from both the prisoners and guards engaging in their own unarmed melees.

[MrDoctorDo]

There laid before a gathering of Shinigami, a massive ensemble of screens. Upon each of the brilliantly illuminated screens, hostile images flashed and flickered in a torrent of activity. On any one screen the viewer could witness the unfortunate carnage of combat. The terrible struggle of soul against soul, for nothing more than mere survival. The bashing of fists, and the gnashing of teeth. However, such displays were not supposed to be on theses screens. It was not the Shinigami’s responsibility to watch such violence with hands clasped over gasping lips.

No. The true purpose of the observation...was to prevent such events from occurring. For this was the control room of the infamous, Maggot’s Nest. The Shinigami currently struck by awe and confusion, its wardens. All of them currently unable to process what they were watching. Not that the acts themselves were so unfathomable, but the suddenness...the nigh instantaneous genesis of it all...that was incomprehensible. Yet still, in their awe, the few resolute among them were able to perform their duties. Rather than be drawn into the enthralling showcase, they worked quickly to react to this calamity. All throughout the prison, and the Division Barracks that surrounded it, an alarm went out.

CODE: Orange. Sirens began to blare throughout the halls and rooms of the facility. A voice accompanying the resounding alter. ”Code: Orange, in effect. I repeat, Code: Orange.” As strained and prepared as the Second Division was, there was no need of additional information. Everyone from the unseated staffers...all the way to the Captain, knew exactly what these words meant. Without seeing the footage, they knew. A riot in the Nest. Prisoners trying desperately to kill one another. Prisoners dying. Shinigami...dying. This was a tragedy, one must understand.

For the Maggot’s Nest was not the typical prison everyone suspected it to be. It was not a place of torture or death. It was a place of punishment, yes...but it was also a place of rehabilitation. The souls within allowed to roam freely, as a sign of trust. The purpose of their stay, a time of reflection and self-improvement. For them to die...especially at the hands of one another...was no acceptable. They must be stopped from harming themselves. Order must be returned. Lives must be spared so that they may have the chance to actually live again, someday. And so, many of Squad 2’s best would be coming to put an end to this tragedy. They would open the doors...sweep inside like a wave. Fierce and powerful, but ultimately restoring balance. Exactly as he hoped…

Within the Maggot’s Nest there was no shortage of sirens and noise. The same voice that echoed through the entirety of the Division infrastructure, screamed into the ears in here as well. It was almost deafening. Fortunately, there was a reprieve from the droning. The nasty, popping sounds of lives being ended. Well, not just ended. Rended really. Cleaved straight from the existence they knew here in the Seireitei. All about, prisoners in plain white robes found increasingly more effective ways to hurt the others around them. Pristine white robes becoming increasingly more red as the seconds flowed by.

There were all kinds of people in this place. Strangers and friends. Fiends and freaks. All of them with their own reason for being here, and yet all of them had the exact same reason for their aggression. Each and every convict within the massive walls of the open dungeon, all had the same thought on their mind. Freedom. It was compelling them. Pushing them. Making them turn on the ones that they had called friend the day before. Unleashing fury that had been maintained and hidden for so long. Turning them all into nothing more than animals, really.

They clawed and crushed one another. Tearing skin and breaking bones. A few of them stood out from the hordes of the rest. Some because of their size. Others because of their proficiency. There was even one successful inmate who managed to round up a gang. Somehow he convinced the blood thirsty fellows to listen to his commands. Telling them who and when to attack as a group. Shocking to see regimen in all this barbarism. However, there were the few among the horde that did not act as viciously as the rest. The cowards and the infirmed, who neither wanted nor could join the open aggressions. Of those that were not ripped apart by their more capable comrades, there was one of particular note. Kurosawa Mika…

A small Shinigami, very thin in frame. Who could be found...strolling through the conflict raging around him. A single entity, separated from the rest of the rabble. Where the others could not pause from their attacks to realize the incursion of Squad 2 guards; Mika seemed drawn to it. On his round face, a massive grin split his thin lips. His large teeth glinting in the artificial lighting. His expression one of ecstaticism. Not that violence was his fancy...even though it wasn't unwelcome. It was for a much different reason than bloodshed, that this happy fellow was having such a good day. One that filled him with hope more than dread. After all, if the guards were coming in...there had to be an open door.

That was his only concern. Not the people killing themselves around him. Nor the highly trained warriors coming to detain the likes of them and himself. See, Mika was not another common thug. Though he was here for all the same reasons as the rest of them; it was not in him to admit similarity to their kind of filth. His mind being of a higher caliber, and on a different plane. His crimes simply weren’t the same. Still, he was here...and sticking out. For Mika wasn’t just out of place mentally. The young man was of quite strange appearance. Even for the usually wide variations of the Shinigami peoples.

The most immediately notable difference was his right arm. Rather than a full and functioning limb, Mika had a rolled up sleeve that concealed the worthless nub of flesh underneath it. It left him looking quite asymmetrical, actually. Yet there was even more to it than that. Next there was his skin, what little showed from his oversized prison garb. Where his scrawny body reached out from the robe he wore, his flesh appeared...almost gold in color. It was very dark, and very matte...but it was certainly gold. The remnants of a medical condition from his earliest days of life. Something that plagued him with constant self-consciousness. Even as he strutted towards the exit of the prison, he tried to hide his remaining hand and his feet within his large robe.

Yet, that perhaps would go unnoticed. It is often hard to read subtle body movements in such turmoil as a riot. What wouldn’t be missed; however, was the evidence painted right on his face. A thick, black smudging that covered the majority of his bald head. Powdery white covering the rest. Crudely smeared all over his features. Covering the golden skin rather effectively...though cracking and fading with the signs of wear. Lines of that hidden gold were even piercing through, in the creases of his smile. Ruining the mask’s intent. And just what was that intent? Well...surely there was someone out there who didn’t need and explanation. Someone who didn’t need to be told why someone might paint their face, and hide from the world...

The security forces currently opening the doors were going to have their work cut out for them. There was the ground floor. A massive courtyard that stretched further than any courtyard of any dojo. Tremendous walls shot up to either wise, running all the way to a ceiling that was hard to see. On these titanic walls were several, tiered balconies. It made the building seem like a staircase for giants. On each of those balconies, there were yet more prisoners. All of them brawling just as heatedly as those on the ground floor. Yet...there was still more. Levels beneath the dirty stone floor on which they stood. Identical to the build here, simply buried further into the soil. Should any significant damage be dealt to there foundation, it might just give way to the open space beneath. Caution to the monstrous beings capable of such devastation. For all they would find after their fall is yet more unruly inmates in the troughs of battle.

Thankfully, there was some consolation for the Second Division. The exit was slim. A narrow hallway on the initial floor, that was only wide enough for two people to travel down shoulder to shoulder. An esaily guarded passage for those who would be staying behind to make sure there were no escapes. Not one person would be getting by unnoticed. No one would be getting out of here, only in. A truth Mika had not yet discovered for himself. Thus his march towards the door. Sadly, reality was quick to catch up. As it often is. For someone truly fearsome was coming to deal with the problems that had arisen. Someone undeniably capable. Someone he would have to get past if he wished to taste true freedom.

Long before he actually saw who it was...he could feel it. Although faintly, it was still clear. A Captain was coming...there was just no accounting for the shift in pressure that he felt. Despite the creaking in his bones that the growing spiritual gravity created, Mika could not stop smiling. For if a Captain was on their way...that means there was truly a threat of escape. This was only further proof that freedom could once again be his. As such, a tingling erupted within his heart. A mixture of joy and of sincere pain...as his longing for such liberation grew into a very hollow pit. Creating desperation to go along with all that hope. [smear:7FFF00]”We...we are getting out!”[/smear:8A2BE2], he called out with a tremendous laugh. Slapping one of the other inmates on the bare of his back; while said fellow strangled another poor fool to death. Only then did Mika begin picking up his pace. Walking with purpose now...highlighted by brightly white, yet-to-be-dirtied robes! A gleaming target for those who might be coming through from the other side...

SPOILER: Click to show

{Mika's Stats}
Strength - 50 Points (100 Originally)

Speed - 50 Points (100 Originally)

Spiritual Pressure - 300 Points

Reiatsu Strength - 100 Points

Light Aura - 50 Points

Dark Aura - 50 Points

Instinct - 150 Points (100 Originally)

Senses - 150 Points (100 Originally)

Energy sensory - 100 Points

Healing Expertise - 1200 Points (400 Originally)

Total SP: 1300 Points

SPOILER: Click to show

{Mika's Skills}
Analyzing - 2: It is believed that the greatest portion of Science is observation. Mika doesn't contest such a claim.

Bleeding Tolerance - 2: There is one thing that self-experimentation and being a d*ck will get you...boo boos. Mika has a long and loving career of butt whuppin' behind him. The result, he has learned how to take the punches and swallow the blood.

Computers and Hacking - 2: Thanks to the immensity of variables which affect biology, and the fact that there are more codons in Spiritual DNA than there are stars, computers play a big role in Mika's work. Sometimes, other people's computers have to play a role.

Crafting and Engineering - 2: With tools frequently damaged through the course of experimentation, Mika learned to keep things working or replaced. It should be no additional surprise that Mika focuses on Biotechnologies.

Damage Recovery - 2: Pain is experience. Poison is tolerance. Sickness is immunity. Rather than try to prevent the maladies of the world, Mika just survives them.

Mental Skill: Spiritual Biology - 2: The defining pursuit of Mika's lifelong study. Spiritual Biology provides intimate knowledge of all, possible biological information of spiritual beings. For each point, a new category of spiritual being becomes understood.
1 - Humans and Human-like beings; Arrancar, Bount, Failures, Fullbringers, Quincy, Shinigami
2 - Inhuman beings; Akki, Beastmen, Hanson, Hollows, Mod Souls, Saika
3 - Abstract Constructs; Blanks, Inner Hollows, Sword Beasts, Zanpakuto Spirits

[Kaijin"Harle"Quinn]

OOC: I do apologize for the wait. I have been quite under the weather lately but does not excuse it. So, let us get this show under way.

IC:

Dawn had settled over the calm surroundings of the Seireitei. The birds sang and the chaotic sounds of leisurely training of subordinates among their respective groups. Truly a peaceful day within the confounds of Squad 2. Donned with her Captain's Haori and shadow tier garments, the Captain tread through the columns of the training grounds with high hopes of what the new members could bring into their new family. Crescent white makeup concealed the natural layer of skin over her face. Jet black mascara inked over her soft lips, and formed the partial star edged around her left eye. The dangling chimes of the small bells rung with each step taken. No matter how ridiculous she may appeared to be it was never taken personally to her as she had grown accustom to their ideas.

For the day was filled of activities that she went about on a weekly basis, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But this day was different, this day had its own form of interest. Another agenda to say the least. That purpose was for the sake of Tsunami. The special black operations group that the late Kenryoku purposely created for the sake of his own ideals. The group was beginning to mold itself into a fierce fighting force that remained hidden from Soul Society itself, besides that of a select few who knew of their existence thanks to its predecessor. But now, as the current Captain and commanding officer, Harle wasn't taking any chances of leaks. The duty of selecting members fell especially on her. No other was able to join without her approval, and as for those who didn't meet the requirements were immediately disposed of.

Fallen nobles and Shinigami who Soul Society turned their backs on, those who were denied by their own ranks were given shelter and care under her dark wings. All the more reason that Harle found herself at the door step of the Maggot's Nest. A prison that Squad 2 held full reign over, as a means of rehabilitating those were deemed capable of understanding and redemption. However, like most prisons it was no where near a sanctuary. And unlike most prisons this one in particular retained the man power to care of the hundreds if not thousands of inmates that dwell deep under the catacombs. The base design itself was simply and made nearly impossible to break free. One way in and one way out. A pro and con to its construction.

A single elevator shaft led to the entrance of the underground base, which was where Harle met with the guards. Shortly after her Zankaputo was ceased for the safety of the prisoners and to insure that no guard would abuse their authority, nor capable of killing an inmate. Remember, this was a place of punishment. So here the sure chance of killing would be after a slow beating through fist-i-cuffs. What an horrendous means to put someone out of their misery. And in all aspect it was down right cruel. She couldn't judge the facility for what it was since Tsunami acted out under no ones jurisdiction. A band of assassins with no orders but her own. "Captain ma'am, please, this way." She was met by Supervisor of the facility upon entry.

A well lit corridor lead the pair further underground nearly at an angle. It was quiet and isolated for some time before another soul would appear, so it gave them time to talk. "I prepared a dossier of potentials for you Captain just as you requested. And among them are a new maggots that were recently caught. Quite a few of them I believe would be suitable for your project my lady." In truth, the Supervisor himself was a member of Tsunami. An eye to maintain watch over any individual who could be useful in their war against the shadows that plagued Soul Society and the ranks of the Gotei 13. She hadn't heard much from the man until recently when requesting her presence in the facility. She humbly accepted.

"We have one in particular due to his records and history, so I have to say among the maggots we have he is by far, interesting. I believe that you will take a liking to him." he spoke in high hopes. Harle was an individual who took a liking to the "weird" since she was quite so herself. A risk taker of sorts with her antics and mannerisms. But she still had her principles and strongly followed them to the letter. No organization or oath will deprive her of who she is, regardless of the reason or cause. Harle was an individual who believe in what she did. "So if you follow me this way I can have the guards escort the man and.." The alarms sounded abruptly, cutting the man off. CODE: Orange. I repeat, CODE: Orange."[/color] The warning alarmed every square inch of the facility, alerting each guard stationed within the base to position themselves where needed.

The two scurried along the remainder of the hall on the observation deck. A riot broke out, and with her own eyes bore witness to the senseless violence that unfolded. Screen after screen she saw it all. Man toppling over each other, guards being overwhelmed by waves of inmates. Each one like animals devouring the other at a chance of vengeance or escape. A perfect opportunity to leave such a dreadful place, and could she blame them? "Riots have broken out on levels three through eight." "We have scuffles everyone in Sections A, C, and F." "Guard Post D is being overwhelmed, please send back up." Each staff member in a near panic clawed over their respective work areas to relay messages and escort friendly forces to required areas.

Another message came in, "This is Guard Post E: We are being overwhelmed. Please send backup now!" A frantic male voice echoed through the receiver. "That is the Level where -that- man is being held." She didn't need to hear any more. Her people were in trouble and she was more than motivated to assist. "Zis iz Capitaine Harle Quin.. I'm on ze way." she announced over the com. "Yes ma'am." the com reported back before the Captain took to the took elevator shaft.

SPOILER: Click to show

[Why Not Lol]

Harle knew she was needed to be done. The lives of her people were at stake here and no one was going to do them any harm. So as the elevator descended to the required floor she braced herself for what was about to happen, and what she had to do. Thus, the doors parted from her view and released an immense gravitational pull from its compressed holdings. Being Classes beyond them the inmates went from scurrying misbehaving children to freshly made pancakes clinging to the pan's surface. She was not amused. With her spiritual pressure being applied the French Captain took a single step forward, and there shortly after, not even a minute, from among the prisoners that clung to floor was the man in gold.

SPOILER: Click to show

[Stats and skills]

[Overall Points - 1600]

Type: ( Shadow - Level 3 )

Strength - [100] (/2) = 50 Points

Speed - [300] Points + (150%) = [750]

Spiritual Pressure - [400] - (40%) = [240]

Reiatsu Strength - [400] Points + (60%) = [640]

Light Aura - [50] Points

Dark Aura - [50] Points

Instinct - [175] Points (-25%) = [131]

Senses [125] Points (-25%) = [93]

Energy sensory - [100] Points + (50%) = 150

Healing Expertise - [0] Points




1. Stealth - [2]

2. Acrobatics - [2]

3. Special Skill: Hoho - [2]

4. Weapon: Throwing Knives - [2]

5. Martial Arts - Taekwondo - [2]

6. Special Skill: Reiatsu Manipulation - [3]

7. Strength of Will - [2]

[MrDoctorDo]

What works best to quell the riled souls of angry men? Love? Promise of reward? A ceaseless string of pleas and begging? Ahahah...no. These things have no sway over desperate men. The only force that holds any sway, is force. Crushing. Overwhelming. Something to put them in their place. A primordial sort of power. An influence that calls out to the most primitive parts of their mind and soul. Like the howl of a typhoon. The tremors of an earthquake. The weight of a mountain, dropped upon one’s head. A force that reminds them of how small, and frail they are. A mortal reminder of the one thing they still have to lose.

Their very lives.

Such was the Captain's presence. A sudden and terrifying reminder that of the natural order. With her arrival in the pits, those souls caged became tame again. In one fashion...or another. Many fashions involved weakened spirits, pinned face down on the cavern's floor. What screams or breathes they hoped to enjoy now stifled into the stone. No matter the size or the strength of each individual. The Captain's reishi was superior. Such was the reason she had the title, after all. Yet not every man adheres to the natural order. Some just don't belong. Such men...easily standing out among the flock.

And so the Captain's eyes found the man of gold.

Brown eyes stared, both intrigued and optimistic.. Where once there was a glimmer of excitement and virility; now...well..."This is a surprise." How odd to see someone else with the same fancy for the theatrical. The Captain’s face all blanketed in heavy makeup. No, more like paint. The very same sort of image Mika preferred for himself. Did she get some sort of thrill out of hiding her skin? Did she enjoy walking around with art displayed on her skin? Perhaps she was a performer.

Or maybe, she shared the same insecurities which warrant a hidden face. Whether he would ever say it aloud or not; Mika was more guilty of the latter. There was simply no dealing with life or the terrible people in it...without some sort of mask. Even if that was just a mask of dust and soot. Having been denied access to the sort of luxuries that used to fill his life, he was doing the best he could. It wasn’t good enough. For even now he could feel the worrying tingles creepy through his nerves. Doubts and fears. Fueled by his less than perfect appearance.

Looking around now. Seeing that he was the only sod left with the means to stand in the presence of the warden. Hmm, maybe it wasn’t his shoddy makeup that cause him stress. After all, he could not help but feel put on the spot. The one man still standing in a crowded room. The awkward stuff of nightmares. Trying his best to smile through the discomfort that comes from being center stage…”I don’t often come across someone else with such impeccable taste.” Trying to maintain eye contact...and consciousness. ”Who does your makeup, I wonder.” Coughing a few times after the polite greeting. Throwing off whatever dignity he still portrayed.

While he tried to start conversation with his jailor, Mika became increasingly anxious. Every moment meant more of the Squad 2 detainees were rushing into the room. Some were already restraining many of the men the Captain had floored. Others were taking time to size up the situation. A few even gave the single, standing fellow a discerning glance. Perhaps they might try to rush him if he continued to stand in defiance? They’d only be abiding the rules if they went to apprehend him. Nothing would like stop them. Even if he was meant for bigger fish. Speaking of, ”I suppose I should wish you a good evening, Taicho-san.” Smile widening a bit more playfully, ”But I’d be wasting my words doing that.”

There was no way this evening was going to be a good one. Even if the turmoil in the prison could be contained. Even if the population could be put back in line. Nothing could undo the damage already done. Bring back the many lives already lost. Diffuse the tension that was steadily building between himself and his rival. Not when escape was so close. Not without causing a snap.

Without turning his head away from her, Mika considered the countless bodies rolling around on the floor. The formed a gauntlet of obstacles for anyone daring to run inside of the hall. Everywhere one might step, a stray limb or cumbersome torso was bound to catch one’s foot. Not the best situation for an escapee to be. Nor was it the best situation for someone trying to catch a runner, either. Adding that very much needed element of luck and chance. If one believed in such things…”I’m sure everyone else is as unhappy as I am that you are here.” Eyes still not straying away from her or the threat she posed. ”Don’t think too poorly of them, though. They haven’t been feeling well lately.” A small snort of laughter breaking up his words, ”And they are scum even when they are at their best.” Casually excluding himself from that association.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t separate. To her and each of those little squaddies she brought with her, Mika was just another criminal. An strange one, with a big mouth. Which probably worked in his favor at the moment. See, he wasn’t subtle in about what he was going to do next. Given his undisciplined posture, he broadcasted that he was going to be making a running attempt for the door. Given he was a one armed, underweight, bookworm...putting all his eggs in the runner’s basket was quite logical. Would he really be able to outpace the opposition? Only if they didn’t expect anything great from him. So with a deep breath. The sort that precedes the plunge. Mika’s eyes narrowed into determined slits. ”Ready?”, the young man queried.

Honestly. All circumstance aside. Mika would have loved to speak with the Captain. Had they been able to meet under any other circumstances. If it weren’t something as valuable as liberation on the line, the young man would have delighted in getting to know her. To ask her, “Why do you wear your mask?” To suppose, “You have reasons to hide yourself. Even in plain sight?” To grin and laugh, “Do you ever find yourself thinking...more people would be happier if they just painted on a smile!” My-my, all the things they could have discussed. Everything they might have had in common. Curse the day and, again, circumstance that led them to where they were. Him fleeing at the very sight of her.

Stepping forward even as the word still rolled on his tongue. Body flickering as he utilized an unimpressive Shunpo. Though Flash Step allowed a Shinigami to outpace sound itself, it was a talent they all held. Certainly the Captain of Squad 2 would be quite the expert of such a trick herself? She would undoubtedly see the skinny figure hurtling in a wide arch to try and get around her. How might she react? Moving, rather slow by comparison to most. Yet fully confident of his odds at success. After all, the Captain’s subordinates would find the wiry soul to be quite elusive. Bafflingly so. For if any of those masked minions approached the sprinting scientist they would stumble quickly and fall. All balance and poise when the time came to grab hold. As if taken hold by a sudden dizzy spell. Unable to retain their focus. Incapable of laying a hand on the terrible runner that Mika was.

How shall the cat chase the mouse?

An important question...considering the playing field. For there was more at work than just the littering of bodies. Even though the upper riot had been quelched by the sudden fall of the gravitic hammer; there was still a swelling of energy in the dungeons beneath them. Below, on the levels that carved down into the earth. Spiritual activity rising. Like a fever under the skin. Burning hot, and teeming with awful things. Hell, even the situation here was deteriorating. As Mika broke into stride; the inmates were breaking free from the pressure. Among the heaps of restrained bodies, several men and women were beginning to budge. It seems they were strong enough to resist some of the effects of the Captain’s pressure. Though only through great effort and exhausting labor. Still, they would be vertical soon. Who knows how long it would take them to acclimate. Return to their feet. Restart the riotous ruckus. Requiring the Squad 2 goons’ collective attention.

As sad as it may be, Mika and Captain Quinn might not have all the time in the world to get to know one another.

Remaining Reiatsu - 1400/3000 (OoC: Halved due to starving in prison.)

-100 Reiatsu, Shunpo

[Kaijin"Harle"Quinn]

The scene did match the description that filled the speakers in the control room. Men on men action, struggling against one another to push forward towards the one true path to freedom. Away they did with the minimum force that stood against them as their numbers lacked the power to quell the uprising. This was the fault of the Maggot's Nest operations. True, it did allow the inmates to govern themselves and establish rule and order, such as most prison facilities. With a population such as that the need for guards was not truly desired. At the same time it struck fear into the patrons that governed the criminals. The fear of being overtaken by a population that clearly outnumbered them twelve to one. Not good numbers for any prison should a riot start up, which it did. Still, the situation wouldn't persuade the French woman from obtaining what she required from such a place.

To her favor she found the man in gold standing before her with the other inmates. His features matched what was recorded, including his unique characteristics. One arm, or what would it have seemed to be. But what was truly remarkable was the same painted features on his face. They matched a design similar to her own. Harle found it to be quite hilarious that someone was as strange as her. She couldn't hold back the smile nor her chuckle. ”I don’t often come across someone else with such impeccable taste. Who does your makeup, I wonder.” He took the words right from her mouth. Such a thought made her laugh all the more. Though it was unexpected to actually have such a moment in a situation such as this. But who could help it really?

"Harle doez Harle's, but Harle would zurely ask ze zame az you too Monseiur." she answered still amused by the unspoken punchline. Quite remarkable to know someone in Soul Society actually has the same taste as she did. Assuming of course, but the finer details can be known in due time. For what she had plan for the man they will have all the time in the world to converse with each other. The Captain grew more excited, filled with anticipation as to what would come next after their leave of such a place. Considering the man's record there was many things that can be achieved together. Just like those moments before marching onto the stage butterflies flapped their lovely wings in the woman's depths. She couldn't help but be excited. Certainly her and the man would get along quite nicely.

”I suppose I should wish you a good evening, Taicho-san, but I’d be wasting my words doing that." he spoke once more, and the only response that Harle could answer with was with another laugh. By no means she was mocking him, but in most cases such words would have been meaningless. He knew full well that he was a prisoner speaking to a Captain to only of her Squad, but a leader of the Maggot's Nest. Small talk wasn't something that would be considered common under the circumstances, yet, here they were doing so. "Now now Harle doez not think zat. En fact, Harle would like to trade wordz wiz you Monseiur. But, Harle doez not zink zat zhis iz ze proper place no?" Among the struggles between inmates and guards could the Captain be heard giggling to herself at their small talk.

But she did have to agree with Mika when he referred to his fellow inmates. Each of them may not have not been feeling well, given the condition of their new home, but it couldn't be helped. Many of her guards were being overpowered by the sheer numbers that flocked towards them. One by one were the guards beaten as reinforcements arrived to quell the fighting. Little did the efforts settle the hordes of prisoners as they continued to lay siege to the Captain's people. The sight was unsettling as someone who bared responsibility for them. "My my, zhiz will not do." the Captain says looking back towards Mika. She couldn't allow the siege to continue, and Mika knew that all too well.

He knew very well, and that conclusion had been reached when the fountain of reiatsu surged toward the soles of his feet. Besides the guards and herself who were capable of mustering up reiatsu, Mika devised a means of escape. At least a nondirect approach. Those without the proper training knew that pitting themselves against a Captain was no more than suicide, however, it still didn't sway them from gathering their numbers in an attempt to overpower her like the others. Mika had already decided to use the commotion to slip around. With the use of a Shunpo he can manage to slip around her position, given that her mind was keen on her subordinates. She couldn't allow further harm come to them, which was why she prioritized them. But Mika was right about one thing, she was fast, very fast.

Before Mika came out of his slipstream Harle would be there to greet him face to face. Even applying a Shunpo the man was no where equaled to the Captain's overall speed. With Shunpo the man could only muster a speed of 500, while Harle could muster a speed of 750, without the use of a step technique. Well more than necessary to cut him off, but she had to rid herself of the five barbarians that came to charge her. Like an explosion the five men were blow away from her previous setting, driven away by a force that was both speed and physical strength alone. After that, she managed to aid at least three guards that were being pinned by the prison's patrons, all before reaching Mika. From their point of view, Harle would have been seen standing without moving a muscle.

"Awww, doez ze buen Monseiur not like to talk wiz me no mor?" Harle giggles arching forward to meet his gaze with her warm smile. She kept her distance from the man obviously with a three foot distance away from each other, a necessary precaution when dealing with people. More patrons began to race towards them, but to no avail as they were greeted by a force that was only explained by the woman's speed. Small pops of air when the woman accelerated from zero to a full 750, having the bottom of her foot meet with their noses. More of her comrades aggressors were seen pushed back by the same level of force. Like an invisible wall that kept their numbers at bay should they come within a certain range. Not much of it was necessary until the guards reorganized to send a few more numbers her way.

"By ze way you can call Harle, Harle. Iz me name." Her French accent weighed heavily on each of her words despite doing the best she could to manage proper English. Regardless of her situation the woman still gave her greetings to someone who at least managed a level of respect to her. Common courtesy, at least for her it was. Something that not many prisoners would know of, but she still reached out to the man before her. "Zo now, what do you call a man who iz Gold?" she asks. There was no doubt she was referring to him, as to his name. Paperwork only told so much about a person, so she found it necessary to ask him directly. Though not much time would pass before they were interrupted by more "energetic" prisoners. "Will ze man en Gold play nice, or doez Harle need to play wiz him a bit?"


Combat Posts: 1/7

[MrDoctorDo]

Running. Hmm, if Mika ever hated something, it was running. Nothing good ever coming from the act. Only needing to perform when a situation soured. Now was no different. Even with a prize as blessed as freedom. Mike put everything into his stride. Feeling the reiatsu flow through and around him. The air splitting as he carved it apart. Carrying his feet. Screaming in his ears. None of these sensations a pleasure or delight. The exhausting labor leading inevitably to soreness and filth. The sweat that would pour from his untempered flesh.

It would be disgusting. The price paid for a breath of clean air. Which his burning lungs would soon need. Though, with all his physical animosity; it was his mind that felt the strongest rebuke. The core of him twisted by the act. The knowledge of why he fled. For one runs because one is unable to fight. It is the tactic of the weak. The incapable. In nature, it is the behavior of prey. This...and idea that twisted in his brain like a shard of cold steel. Tearing and wringing every bit of confidence from him. Reinforcing every memory that he is weak. That he always had been.

What made it worse, was how right the voices were. Mika was frail. A boy with a diminished body held together more by his skin than his strength. The way he moved was pathetic. Embarrassing to watch, really. Muscles were nothing more than sinew. His coordination was clumsy and unrefined by a long life of inexperience. The habits and ways he carried himself never being enough to reinforce proper form or power. The harsh way he had lived his life these past few weeks only bringing more woe. Since his incarceration; the young Shinigami has survived off scraps.

The only food offered in the Maggot’s Nest being fought over by everyone of his fellow inmates. Mika...was never one for fighting. So, he went hungry. Forced to find alternatives to what was given. Living off the pests that called this place home. Vermine and louse. Things that even the more grizzled veteran might not have managed to stomach. It was terrible, but it was life. Even if that life was a halved one. Devoid of comfort or grandeur. An existence that came with consequences. Ones far more physical than mere shame or self loathing.

Yet starvation continued to stalk him. Perhaps it was what fueled his ire and desperation? Eroding his mind of all the logic and forethought he normally prided himself for? Hunger can do….such things to people. A lesson not everyone gets to learn. One that Mika had been failing since arriving in the pit. Corrupted by the want. Ruined by the need. His body dealing with the ravages far more noticeably than his mind. He was always weary. Always tired. Mika had the gaunt look of a corpse. Drained of vitality.

Consuming himself in a desperate bid to keep away the final toll of funeral bell. Only barely doing so. Making the man half of what he truly was. A shell waiting to be cracked. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when he was going to shatter. The real question being; what would break first? His body or his mind? The only thing that wasn’t a mystery was the hammer that would do the breaking. Just like a hammer; she fell on him with crushing force.

By the time Mika had pushed his weary muscles into pathetic sprint; Harle had already shifted her focus to her subordinates. Once Mika opened his stride and fluttered through the air; the Captain had already trampled the rioters around her. When he finally felt the wall of air her speed created; Mika was already on the ground. Floored faster than he could shift focus. The tunnel vision he suffered, keeping his eyes on the doorway up until he collapsed. Ears ringing. Vision blurry. Fighting to fill his lungs with the breath she knocked from him. The pain of the impact diluted by the swirling haze that his mind now fell. She shook his entire world. To the core. Riding him of any feelings he once harbored of superiority. Crushing the confidence he had mustered in himself. Throwing him back to the feelings of old...

Even if Mika’s head was spinning; the world around him was not. He would seem quite the sight. Trying to sit himself back up. His dirtied prison yukuta almost blown off his sinewy frame. Almost unable to prop himself upright with his one capable arm. Head rolling back around, bobbing gently as his perceptions adjusted to the vertigo he felt. Eyes wide enough to make the whites stand out in the dark. Pupils squeezed into pins. Obviously, the shock still running up and down his nerves. Only coming to terms with what happened in a slow, confused manner. Gathered together, he looked almost a bewildered child.

Which was not far off from how he felt. The whole ordeal striking a nerve that ran deep into his memories. Stimulating synapses decades old. Unearthing the thoughts and feelings which had been so purposefully buried by years of exposure. Exposure to new knowledge. New sensations. New pleasures and joys. The years he devoted to the academy. Becoming a Shinigami. The lessons he absorbed. The questions he asked. The world of discovery and understanding that he built his maturity upon. All of these unintentional layers, peeled back by the warden’s antics. Raking up the child beneath. The one covered and hidden by the growth. He felt as though he had been scolded by a parent.

Mika did not start by looking straight at his opponent. He...tried, but his force imposed delirium made doing so a chore. Just trying to gain his bearings had his eyes scanning all around. Seeing the pile of prisoners rebuilt. Distributed differently this time. Each of them thrown more about. Laid out on the ground and walls, not like they had fallen, but as if they had been stomped. Hard. Suppose that is what happens when you are treated as a supersonic stepping stone. Suppose they should all be happy for the coma. Mika himself might have welcomed it. One doesn’t feel the shame like that of a whipped child when they are in forced unconsciousness.

No. Mika was going to have to suffer his embarrassment. If only for a bit. Before the inevitable punch or kick that would grant him sweet torpidity. For now his head jarred. Turning left and right. Eyelids frozen open. Caught upon the closest bodies. The ring that formed around him and the Captain. The only ones near enough for his eyes to discern in detail. Watching them where they laid. Seeing, even in their almost lifeless state, how they faintly twitched. All of them dirtied by dust and sweat. Each of them blushing with a fever. Taking all of this in. Trying find answers and hope. Finding the evidence of failure, scattered and bloodied all about him, too much to endure.

Captains of the Thirteen Court Guard squads. All of his life; Mika had been labeled a freak and a monster. Solely for the way that he looked. People often judged him as pitiful at a distance. Expressing sympathy at the sight of his missing arm. Those who drew closer were worse. Starring, so he thought, at his skin. Judging the cause of a such a condition. Believing he carried some sort of illness or plague. Never risking the closeness they would have needed to ask. Never allowing him to explain, I am not sick, I survived. I survived! The only time he had ever been strong, and the consequences made him disgusting. Something to be avoided. Leaving him to question why. He knew why they starred, but he did not know why they were afraid.

It tore at him for years, in silence. There was never anyone with whom to talk. Every semblance of a friend seemed to conveniently die. Stranding him by himself once more. As time went on, so did his layers. Each year; Mika put on a new defense. First he grew cold. Learning to enjoy the emotional distance. The he started lying. Hiding the pain his isolation created. Getting so good at this, Mika actually seemed confident. Pushing his way into activities with other people. Pretending to belong where he was never really wanted. Even this failed him in time. The chill of not belonging growing more fierce and frigid. So...he did what all of us eventually do. Sacrifice.

Mika gave up who he was. Compromised with the desires of those who did not love him. Placing upon his body and face, thick makeup. Dark, lifeless armor that covered the gold. A cover for all the scars they had left him with. Yet another showpiece. To leave those looking at him in shock. A shock that he controlled. Better than the one he could not. In time they called stopped looking at him like a monster. It was too late. The wounds had been dealt. And while Mika was happy to be just a freak; he never forgot what he really was to them...

And now. Here in this prison. The tables had turned. Mika learned what a real monster was. A terrible force for which there was no protection. No means to resist. How he had planned for this. The long hours he spent thinking, preparing. All of them wasted. Unravelled by the Captain in moments that measured as a trifle for her. For what she was...there was no anticipating. Even with all of his reading. Every hour used in the SRDI. Studying Captains throughout the centuries. Examining their stories and medical records.

Doing what he could to fabricate their abilities in his simulations. Apparently, there were factors beyond measuring. Something about them that was incalculable. Undefinable. Monstrous. The sort of things he spent years believing about himself. Only to be rudely awakened the moment his ass hit the cavern floor. This...woman. She was the sort to fear. What she was capable of, on a whim. Truly incredible. Calling him to turn towards her. His eyes never losing their widened look of shock. Yet, carrying with them a hint of curiosity. Heh, truly completing the look of an awestruck child.

When the walls ceased their spinning. Once he could actually feel the floor beneath him once more. Mika willed himself to look towards her. Given his fear of her showcased power, it pained him to do so. Managing the fear by starting low. Eyes scrolling across her relaxed feet. Beginning the journey up from there. Whether she knew it or not. Mika was a doctor. An amazing one. Whether she would even be able to distinguish something so subtle; the way he looked at her would reflect his profession. Her body, no matter how decorated or present, was an animate cadaver. From memory and familiarity alone, he could distinguish the muscles and tissue that composed her.

So when he looked, he studied a fleshy machine. The way she stood made did not make him think of a warrior. There was delicacy in her pose. The tendones sleek and rubbery. The same sort of poise was present throughout her legs. Though svelte, he knew to be wary of their mighty strength. Reaching her hips held no excitement for him. Seeing a slim torso simply proved a prognosis of his. That her strength came from agility, not mass. She was a coiled whip. Continuing onward towards her lean arms and slender shoulders. Further confirmation. Winding and crawling up until their eyes could lock. Her eyes. For a moment, they were more catching than her cosmetics. They...they were the worst color.

Not because the color was bad. Or ugly. They just...her eyes were the sky. Even someone such as Mika. Who lacked most humanity and sympathies. Seeing the sky in her eyes. After weeks in the hole. It was...it was a miracle he didn’t begin to cry. All those weeks of frustration and hardship. Every day spent longing to be out of this hell. To see a color that had only been in his dreams for so long. Unfortunately for the Captain. The colors of his eyes were the same brown as the cave. What light might that might have existed, was fading. Glints of hope thoroughly lost. Saturated now with the gloom that comes from failure. Darkened even more by the knowledge of what his failure actually meant. What his future would be.

Seeing her there. A bright smile highlighted further by the compliments of her makeup. Lording over him with the sort of authority one should expect of her rank. She seemed almost a mockery of his plight. I know... it seems a little on the nose. A clown as a joking representation. Such was obvious by the very definition of it. But...this was so much more than a crass joke. For Harle, in all the splendor of her appearance and character, was a perfect insult. She had everything that he longed to reclaim. She walked with free steps. Strutting around with both confidence and authority. Her face painted, like his had so many times...yet she wasn’t hiding anything.

At least, he couldn’t imagine she was. No. How could she? She was a Captain. Respected…loved. She painted her face, so he thought, because it was fun. Perhaps he was just being biased? Having her crush his escape attempt. Making him the fool. It angered him. Turned his thoughts volatile. Making him too critical. Vicious even. In such a mindset he saw her only as the laughing clown. Not the soul that wore the guise. How he hated it. Like acid on skin it ate at him. He made his emotions obvious in the way he stared at her. Sharing the vile look that shadowed him his whole life...committing the same act he loathed in others. Starring in judgment because of her mask. Unaware of his momentary hypocrisy.

Only the softness of her voice, could dissolve the severity of his gaze.

Hearing her speak caused him a shiver. The day had been nothing but crashing and shouting. When she spoke to him, and only him; the sound of her voice was like a murmur by comparison. Soothing. Unexpected. It broke the concentration that he had created. Though her words might have held some condescension; Mika did not hear it. Perhaps it is best he did not. Such a tone was the key to unlocking a vast ocean of ire contained within him. An anger that might lead him into a foolish, avoidable death. Instead his eyes blinked. All the malice in them faded. Back to the way he had appeared not long before. More confusion than sense. The problem was...that confused and senseless does not make for good conversation. No matter how invested the other party might be. In fact, it would take him a few moments to muster anything to say to her introduction. The words proving difficult to find. ”I...what, no…” Eyes staying affixed to her. As though bonded by some unseen tether. ”You…”

Mika could remember everything now. From that first glance they shared. How, at that time, her appearance was a delight. Of how it bothered him now. Of how desperately he had hoped to escape! Yet...none of that rage boiled over. Not yet. ”I...was leaving. I had to leave.” Wanting to shift himself upright. Make himself more comfortable. Unsure if she would leave him alive if he moved at all. ”A mouse knows not to talk with cats.” Feeling witty; Mika eyes suddenly stared off into empty space. Processing that his metaphor failed the moment he spoke it. Leading his eyes to roll and flutter with self disappointment. guh…”Well, since you already have me by the tail.” Letting his face rest in his humility. His upper teeth peeking from behind his thin lips. Standing out brightly against the black smudging on his skin. Making him appear much like the helpless mouse he described. Beady eyes looking back to her. Acknowledging her formal introduction. Memorizing every syllable of her name, and the way her accent pronounced it. Almost happy to hear something so unfamiliar.

Though...that happiness faded fast.

There are no mirrors in prison. Nothing but the water you drink to see your reflection. Mika had not seen his face in so long. Its features forgotten. Ignorant of what he had become. Kept sane by a single assumption. That his skin was covered. That his weakness was hidden. From himself. From his cellmates. From everyone. His very first day was spent painting himself in dust and soot. Always looking for more to apply. Believing himself protected. ”Gold…”, his voice trembled. Betraying the depths to which his heart sank. ”You, can see?”

His palm slapped against his face. Making a wet pop of a noise. His fingers pushed against the soft skin. Expecting the graining sensation of dirt or filth. Discovering only wet, smooth dermis. Tightening their grip in response. Digging in with each jagged nail. Nostrils flaring, but not from the pain. No...the panic was setting in. His breathing was erratic. Heart pounding. Jaw...trembling. How long? How long had he been exposed? How many had seen me?! Thoughts screaming inside. Though...plainly written on his face. The look he gave her. The way he seemed to recoil at her piercing eyes. As though she cut him with only her glance. A new terror gripped him now. Such that she had not aroused before. In his brown eyes a softness grew.

Soon...poisoned by the strangest hue of purple

She didn’t mean to. How could she have? They were unacquainted. Unfamiliar. There was no way for her to have the sort of intimate knowledge that comes from years of connection. So there was no possible means by which she could have intended twist his soul. For what she saw was his greatest insecurity. A flaw that he couldn’t trust anyone to discover. An intimate defect. Something one could only share with the most faithful of confidants. And yet here they were. Barely introduced. His buried secret open to her the sky in her eyes. ”D...don’t.” Mika trying his best to hide his face from her unnerving eyeballs. Kicking one foot after another to try and slide away.

His teeth grinding anxiously. From behind his slightly stained teeth, the faintest trace of...smoke? ”Stop looking!” From his lips would pour a torrent of smoke. Making the strange young man look as a dragon. Spewing forth the steam that precedes the flames. Though given his current state, it was unlikely this dragon could spark any kind of fire. The smoke was pale blue in color and thick as a fog. It would envelope everything and everyone in six meters in the blink of an eye. Obscuring sight for all those caught within its reach. Succeeding in hiding Mika from the unwanted looks. Even if his spiritual pressure could still be sensed through the vapor.

This was not some ploy. She would feel him near. Making little effort to move; let alone run. What he wanted, he had gotten. She couldn’t look at him. Or, at least, he couldn’t see her doing so. A comfort that was paramount to him. Even if it meant immersing her and the world in such heavy smoke. Assuming she remained in the cloud at all. It could be fled from with ease. Simply choosing a direction and leaving. Besides irritating the eyes; the dense cloud carried an interesting scent. One of powerful tobacco...mixed with an even stronger, sweet flavor. Though it was a very powerful smell, that seemed to block all others, it was at least pleasant. About the only thing that was going to be from this point on out. For however Harle might react to the cloud. Running from it. Dispersing it. Maybe even seeking out Mika’s huddled body within it. What came next was would turn the tables on this unfortunate little hiccup.

The entirety of the cave was a bowl shape. Easily constructed, with...amazing acoustics. Maybe Harle laughed a time or two at how much her prison mimicked stage? Some sort of minimalistic concert hall? Perhaps she already knew how sounds just seemed to carry and carry inside of it? If so...then maybe should would find no surprise in the coming thunder.

rrrrruuuuuuuuuuuuoooooooooooohm

As though the very earth itself had roared. Tremors erupted from deep beneath their feet. Making the floor unsteady. Shaking all who stood on it with terrible force and vigor. All throughout the solid rock cavern, the sound of an explosion echoed from the walls. Though the initial discharge steadily died...a new cacophony of sounds rose into earshot.

crrrk A muffled, yet distinct sound. crrrrk-ck-crrrrrrrrk One that repeated itself. From different directions. At different instances. crk-crrrk-crkcrk-crrrrrrr… Something not unlike the splintering of cracked glass. For those in Mika’s vapor, the sounds would be the only warning. For any free of its haze; the prison would be crumbling. Throughout the entrance hall. Across the entire floor and crawling up many of the supporting pillars. Deep, finely formed cracks were spread. They didn’t look like fissures. The kind caused from earthquakes. Instead, they looked like spiderwebs. Intricate and radiating from several distinct points. Given their spread and locations...they were clearly engineered. Meaning the sound that came from below was equally unnatural. This was an intentional spree of destruction. But what exactly was the cause?

With adequate speed and senses, the answer would take little time to deduce. Mostly because there was no riddle to solve. Throughout the hall. Mixed among the collected inmates. There were a few poor souls who appeared very ill. Nothing like the others. They had the same reddish blush that comes with fever. The sort that was shared between many of them. However, there's was getting worse. And worse. With every passing second they seemed to get redder. Brighter. They were practically...glowing. From their bellies a terrible noise could be distinguished. Like building pressure. Rushing water...or energy. Not long after the sound becomes audible, these individuals would detonate.

Creating a nearly blinding source of light. Flooding the area around them with heat. Pushing air away from them at explosive speeds. Shattering the stone that was near them under the sudden release of energy. The sounds of rupturing souls would mimic those of dying Failures. Worse still, the sounds coming from the top floor would be joined by more coming from below. Fostering more cracks throughout the prison hall. Connecting several of the previous ones that had grown. Together, all of them adding up enough to diminish the integrity to a nil value. Creating yet more tremors. This time, much closer to the surfaces where everyone stood. The floor beneath giving way. Dropping Mika. Harle. Everyone...into the vacuous chasm below.

(OoC: With Harle’s permission, I would like to have this act as a cinematic scene transition.)

What followed would be an avalanche of stone and soil. Much of the prison’s atrium collapsing at the center. The floor would dip like a bowl. Shattering and breaking away as it fell. The open room beneath would have its ceiling crumble and fall like sledges. Cracking the second floor with each of their blows. Sending shockwaves of air billowing throughout the hollow space. From above there would be more falling debris. All of it crashing and slamming into one another as it fell. A symphony of demolition. Ruining what once was the top and second floors of the subterranean prison. Those who were on the upper level would descend down onto the lower. Great fortune would be on their side. Their lives not lost to the breaking chaos. However, they would not be completely saved. For when the dust settles; they would find that the opening above them sealed by gathered rubble. Their new surroundings appearing as a bubble made of uneven rock and earth. Trapping them together. As of yet, the sole survivors of the catastrophe.

Kuk...“Aaaaaaah!” kuhkuhkuhck… With the dust settling, Mika would find himself laid out on his belly. Face pressed against one of the massive boulders. The sheer face of the rock formation, proving most uncomfortable. Though not as uncomfortable as the knowledge of what had happened. What had caused the disruption. With his ears still ringing; the sounds of infrequent, random explosions could still be heard. They were not welcome sounds. Turning his head to look above, Mika found that he could see absolutely nothing.

From his lips poured an unending stream of vapor. With every breath. Every blood filled cough. Mika expelled more of the smoke. Darkening the area around him almost as much as the sudden loss of light. Without seeing any proof, common sense told him that they were buried alive. “They”, being himself...and the captain. Whose pressure he could still feel. Pulsing in the distance. Somewhere beyond his cloudy cover she was fine and well. He gulped in great discomfort. Shaking with potent fear of that prospect.

Though, not the only thing he was concerned about. After all...their new home wasn’t the safest of places to be. While the newly formed dome might benefit from the strongest of all architectural designs, it was not perfect. The roof above them was not an intentional one. It was a compacted gathering of loose rocks and finer rubble. There was no way of knowing how stable it was. Not without testing it. Nor was it possible to see what lay above the initial layer. If the anything could be seen at all. The entire arena was cut off from most of the light that had been present before. Certainly no sunlight was getting down here. Perhaps it was a good thing that it wasn’t. Light would mean holes, and holes would mean structural weak points. Mika was in no hurry to find out just how secure their allotted vault was. Then again...he wasn’t in a hurry to do much of anything. Not without knowing what the captain was doing. Thinking.

Mika’s mind was running on full throttle. The adrenaline from his fall still pumping in steady supply. Keeping him conscious and up right. Keeping his mind off his exposed, golden skin. Pushing him to consider what he would need to…Survive. Getting out of here was certainly at the top of the list. But that was a problem in and of itself. He was tired. Hurt. Worst of all; Mika was getting very hungry. Something that meant a lot more to Shinigami. For if they go hungry, then they lose the energy they need to do...anything. Mika might not be the most capable Shinigami, but he knew the importance of being able to use a Shunpo with the time comes. Fortunately, he had an answer for his problem. One that brought with it many risks. None of which he considered at the time.

Mika quickly gathered some of the vitality he had to spare. Pulling it into his mouth, and spitting it out onto the ground. Watching as glowing saliva flew from his lips to the soil. Hitting it with a splat and disappearing into the exposed turf. Waiting with bated breath, feeling the tickle of smoke building in his chest and nostrils, as the seed took hold. In the moments after...a small sapling sprouted. Its thin stem shooting like bamboo. Growing at an unprecedented rate. Flowering with thick, fleshy leaves. Soon...producing a single, large fruit. One that was round like a peach and smooth to the touch. More importantly, it shined with a bright, green glow. Radiating light in every direction. From deep within Mika’s cloak of mist. Casting his shadow very apparently against the surrounding fumes. A stupendously eye-catching display in the dark of such a tomb.

Undoubtedly attracting the attention of his...fellow prisoner.

Remaining Reiatsu - 1100/3000

-150 Reiatsu, Bakudo #45: Miasma
-150 Reiatsu, BioReishi #51: Photosynthcyst

[Kaijin"Harle"Quinn]

Harle has always been one for the mysteries. Being someone who operates as an Illusionist, a part time Magician, and a Acrobat, the Shinigami Captain was raised in an environment that does not consist of a warrior background. Mika was correct to think of such a theory. Her muscles and figure have been developed purely for flexibility and mobility, suggesting that she has been one to be very active in her previous life. But little did anyone would have known that she was truly a stage performer. One who originated from the Circus life. And it was from that existence that she came to wear the mask that she dons.

The man may have had similar experiences. The reason for why he wears a mask himself. Those origins remain unknown to the woman, but the fact remained that they held some similarities to each other. Something that bounded them to the false faces that they wore. She could tell from what was depicted in his eyes. So full of dread and exhaustion, the results of what the Maggots Nest brought to those who spent time within its walls. Their gaze locked onto each other having the noise around them fade away into the distance, more so when their words reached the other. Harle found the man be much quite like herself. Riddle layered over more riddles. She found it amusing, almost looking into a mirror, with her own reflection bouncing back at her.

"Zhiz iz true zat ze Mouse haz nothzing to zay to ze Cat, but.... what about ze Lion zat haz ze Mouse by ze tail? Maybe ze two may have zomethzing to share wiz one another." A story of a great animal being ensnared by the thorn. Unable to remove such a deadly issue the great animal would be doomed. Yet, it was by the most unlikely of creatures that would emerge to save the great beast. Together they were able to overcome their individual shortcomings and achieve more than what they original were capable of. That was the story from what she could remember at the very least anyhow.

Mika spoke once more of his desire to escape. She knew that was what he desired to accomplish. In all honesty who wouldn't wish for such a thing. For the prisoners that remained dormant within the confines of the prison. But what made the situation more amusing was that the man's freedom is what she sought out as well. The entire reason of the Captain's visit was due to Mikas presence in the Prison. He was the very reason why she chose to visit the Maggot's Nest. His abilities and individual being she saw would make a great contribution to the Squad. There was more to her reasoning for why she wanted the man to be with her, however such matters could be discussed on a later date. After she left the prison with him.

Before she could say another word the flush of panic overcame him. Mika became frantic as he threw his arms about to cover his exposed self. Almost as if he was cover who he really was beneath the makeup. Makeup? Harle didn't notice it before. The thoughts of their future plans obscured her sights on realit that she didn't notice that his true self had been exposed. His reaction to being exposed for what he truly appeared beneath was much like her own. During the time she became Squad 2's Lieutenant, when she first met with Kenryoku Kawada. The self that she buried beneath the makeup, Kaijin Quin. She buried that part of herself in order to hid the self of the sheltered girl that was nearly raped.

The innocence that believed that all humans were genuine and true to themselves attempted to help those who were unfortunate than herself. They lied. Their portrayal of weakness and frailty left her open to being used, to be used as their personal toy. During that time Harle showed kindness, and it bit her in the ass. That is why she wears the mask, to hide the frailty that she once possessed. But now, she wears it as a reminder. During the time learning to become a Captain, in order to lead others and to be responsible for them like Kenryoku was, Kaijin and Harle began to fuse bit by bit. Soon, both mask and self slowly merged. Still, not completely, she was still managing that part. Those parts of herself in finding the middle ground. Mika was most likely doing the same.

Bitter-sweet. A scent filled her nostrils with the foul air of the prison causing the Captain to take an immediate withdraw. But the damage was done. Before her very eyes resided a large beast. The lizards among lizards. The King of Mystical creatures. Its gaze fell upon the Captain as her own gazed up at it. Where Mika stood the creature took his place on the setting, but she knew better. For such a being to manifest itself would have taken an enormous amount of reiatsu. Harle was an expert when it came to illusions, and the bitter sweet aroma that engulfed her body was somehow connected to it. Nevertheless, she remained on guard despite knowing the fact she was under some spell. She applaud the sight that was before her.

She hoped that sensation would last a bit longer to give her time to marvel at the sight. She hoped to at least learn about it some more and how it worked. Unfortunately, much to her own surprise that the floor beneath caved. The Maggots Nest was designed to keep the patrons inside where they were. To escape this place was meant to achieve the impossible. The Maggots nest was meant to be a smaller case to that of the main prison system. To her surprise that the floor wouldn't hold after such a long period of time, she was definitely going to have someone have it once she got out. The pressure from beneath them, the lower floors, must have caused the foundation to have weakened. With the added pressure of the ensuing riot occurring on multiple levels above, it is likely assumed that the commotion added stress to the man made structures. Thus resulting in what had occurred.

Prisoners and guards fell a like. The floor shattering beneath the woman's feet took her by surprise indeed. Yet, with her speed and trained senses the Captain managed. T'was the sort of situations, changing environments, that Harle excelled in maneuvering herself in. Rocks and stones crashed against one another. Pillars of reinforced steel and Earth came crashing down around her. The Captain pushed herself from position. Rock to rock, boulder to boulder did the woman leaped to better situate herself. She kept herself close to Mika as much as she was able to manage. Brushing through the stones she closed the distance to have herself be placed within the same area that the Gold man would have landed in.

A daunting task but she managed after being tossed down with the remaining boulders. A few moments Harle lost the air that filled her nimble body. A firm strike to her back and another hard pat to the front. All movement ceased, alerting her to the fact that her fall had stopped. Her head hurt. The world she knew was spinning around. She had been cast into a world of darkness, similar to the world that she saw for some time before passing over to Soul Society. "uugghhhhh..." she moaned lightly beneath her figure. She had made hard landings before but not so much as having to deal with the environment rather than a stage.

Without a doubt it was due to inability to analysis once. How embarrassing. The darkness settled but not a moment too soon as a hue reiatsu came flooding from some distance beyond the rubble. The target remained close. She had to continue with the mission. Dusting herself off the Captain ventured forth onto the Gold man's position. Her feet remained soft to the touch. Like the still air around her she kept herself light and steady, ever watching from the shadows. Her eyes watching what the prisoner what mustering underneath the shelter made of his body. Harle had to keep her distance, a good 10 foot range away from the man as her Energy Sensory picked up on what seemed to be reiatsu.

"Zat iz zomezing zat Harle haz not zeen en un time before. Quite entertaining really. But, Harle would like fo you to come wiz her now." she said from the veil of the shadows.

Combat Posts: 2/7

[Mika]

The dark of this newly forged vault...it was nothing to Mika. Nothing he had not suffered through in recent days. In fact, the isolation of it was rather welcome. The last few months had been some of the worst in his life. The Maggot’s Nest upholding the dreadful reputation it had in the Seireitei. Across its many levels were nothing. Just large, empty rooms to stockpile the undesirables. Few of whom were lucky enough to be given an isolated cell. Leaving them all free to do as they wished with each other. And with nothing else available. Not even a steady supply of water or food. The things they did...often proved quite unpleasant.

After all, hunger has such power over us all. The things an empty belly can inspire are marvelous. The cruelties that can be devised. The numbness that develops. It is so difficult to feel pity through the aching emptiness. It often becomes impossible to hear pleas of mercy over a growling stomach. Thankfully, what prisoners do to one another is of little concern. The innocent and peaceful carry little to no care for the likes of criminals. The guards responsible for their remaining in locked away...why would they mind any thinning of the herd? And so, with no one to stop it, life in the Nest takes a step away from living. Instead, it is all about surviving. Mika. Well. He was no exception to this new, unnatural law of nature.

To have survived as long as he had; Mika became quickly indoctrinated to the ways of the Maggots. Throwing away what few restraints he brought in with him. Learning that the way he lived before. When he was free. The things done for such carefree notions as “learning”. The actions that earned him titles like freak and monster. Those were introductions. Hobbies in cruelty and callousness. Appetizers to the real terrors; that one must be pushed to even consider. Let alone perform. Inside the walls of this improvised hell; stealing was nothing more than daily routine. Dismissing the feelings and wishes of others was not considered rude; it wasn’t considered at all.

Being willing to injure or harm those around you didn’t make you savage. It made you average. From the first step he took within the cavernous pit, each person he met became less than a person. They became animals. Predators. Ones that he would need to overcome to survive. To them he was the same. A rival that couldn’t be allowed to win. Albeit a small and frail one. A threat all the same. In these last few months...Mika had survived. No matter what came for him in the dark. No matter how many predators sought his demise. Stealing what could not be bought. Cheating whatever could not be earned. Killing whomever was necessary. Mika had been forged into a whole new breed of beast. Breaking his former definitions. Though he developed a vicious talent for his new ways, they had left him so...hungry.

Sitting on the cavern floor. The stones’ discomfort failing to affect his muddled mind. Before him was his wilting, little tree. Though the sapling still shimmered with the spark of reishi, it was failing to produce any fruit. Lacking the key component of sunlight. Wasting away in the dark. Dying in the absence of sustenance. Just like Mika. The young man a hollowed husk of what he had once been. Composed of only two things. A hunger that festered for weeks without relief, and an insatiable desire to survive. The former of these plights causing his stomach to constantly churn and groan. Doing so even now as he watched his hopeless attempt to produce food begin to shrivel.

Unable to pull his eyes away from the plant as he struggled. Was his destiny the mirror of this pitiful thing? Was he just waiting in the dark, to starve without the light? How hopeless it had all become. Falling so hard from the lofty heights of his dreams. Somehow, in a worse place than the slaughterhouse of the Nest. Trapped now in this unstable chamber. His only company being the dead. Those who had died, and those like him or were just waiting for their turn. Why. Why did everything have to fall apart. From the failed riot to the appearance of a captain. What fate was intended for him? Why must it be so miserable? Filled only with death and toils. Why...why did he want it to continue? Why, with all these reasons to wish for an end, did Mika want to keep on living?

"Zat iz zomezing zat Harle haz not zeen en un time before. Quite entertaining really. But, Harle would like fo you to come wiz her now."

Mika’s heart stopped. The thumping that had at one moment been a calming lullaby, now a reaper’s march. Drumming an ever faster tempo. Her voice reached out from beyond the edges of his misty sanctuary. Out where the light of his little tree was all but smothered. Where he could not hope to see the source. Bringing him to turn in the dirt. Drawing up his only arm as if it would shield him from her encroaching words. The mere existence of her voice a danger to his addled mind. She. The captain. She survived? [smear:7fff00]”Of course she survived.”[/smear:8a2be2]

The thought bit at him. As if attacking him for failing to recognize it before. If he were still here, drawing breath, then why not she? The one whose strength was enough to make his existence a humiliating comparison. Yet, he could not sense her. Not her pressure. Not her energy. Certainly not her presence. She masked herself as easily as she masked her face. The potency of her disguise extending all the way to the soul. How? How was she able to do this? The thought tingled in his mind like the fear of a child. Fear of the monsters that lurk in the dark. Wholly. Inconsolably. S-she. She was a ghost. A nightmare given physical form, haunting the land of spirits.

What remained of his hope, now lay dying.

”Y-you...want me to come with you?” The words fell out of him, his one a mix of exhaustion and cold distance. Even without saying it bluntly, the captain should understand his hesitance. Mike recalling her former proposal. Her offer to take him from this place. The deal of a lifetime. Something he wanted more than anything, but could not possibly accept. Daily life for him had been lies and death for months now. One of the most valuable lessons he had learned, was to never trust a deal in your favor. It had been a lesson he was even able to share many times. Newer, more naive prisoners falling victim to his manipulations.

Triumphs from his brutal new lifestyle. Remembering their faces in once more. Pictures passing on a reel. Each of them having the color and life drained, as they stared at him with either confusion or disgust. All of them going to their graves knowing their greatest mistake was to trust. It was not too long ago that he made the same expression. A moment, in which he chose to trust. To put faith in the powers that be. Not just one, but many captains like herself. A decision that inevitably lead him to his current hell. Yet, it seems the route of his life was a circular one. Filled with stops and turns that all lead back around to the same old pains.

Several times, Mika had been exploited for results. His labors and hardships negligible variables in the equation. There even came a time when his suffering was not merely a byproduct, but the ultimate goal. Days spent strapped in the torturer’s chair. Agonies and torments plied without end. All for the sake of information, he had thought...when in truth it was but for the joy of it. Merely the wishes of Sixth Division. What proof was there that the Second Division was any different? They maintained this place. How sweet and sincere could the really be? Every neuron in his mind blaring. Glowing hot with a rage not yet subsided. A grudge holding nerve, rubbed raw by the troubles of the past. And still...something pulled at him to reconsider. To heed her words. Perhaps it was better judgment?

[smear:7fff00]”Don’t be a fool~”[/smear:8a2be2]

The voice whispered within him. After months of absence; Mika’s conscience seemed to have returned. With much more power behind its voice. ”I am trapped in this pit. Buried alive in this grave~” Such concern in its tone. ”Bleeding. Starving.”, turning to aggravation, ”Starring an executioner in the eyes.” The frustration was palatable. Dripping from every word. Yet, just when his thoughts reached their greatest ire, ”And now. This woman offers me freedom. Why would I turn her away…” The chill of a shiver running down his spine, ”Nothing she can do...is worse than dying here.” The voice becoming much more bold, ”No mater what. I. Musn’t. Die. Here~” Mika’s face grew cold as the words played in his head. Turning back to his fears and expectations. Of what would follow his surrendering to her whim and wishes. To the tortures he had endured. Though all the wounds had healed. Not even scars remaining. Mika could still remember everything.

The drawbacks of a potent mind.

”No.” A misfire in his brain. ”Yes~ The thought itself causing him pain. ”No.” The chemistry of his mind shifting. Fresh life sparking within every lobe. ”But I will die! She will kill me~” The momentary exhilaration turning to panic. ”No.”, and yet...defiant. So one last consideration was made, ”There is no pain that can equal death. No torture or subjugation that compares to oblivion. Choose existence!” Though unseen, his eyes lost the purple glimmer that had grown so strong within them. ”I am.” What he remembered best. What he hated most. Was the unyielding feeling of weakness. They had hurt him. Broken his body, yes. None of that mattered to him. The physical pain a learning experience. No. What hurt him. What truly hurt him. Was the fact that he surrendered his control. That, in time, they had finally pushed him so far that he couldn’t laugh in their face. He couldn’t remain defiant. They asked him questions, and he answered. They fed him lies, and he believed them. Mika had given up the one thing that was truly him. His will.

He would not freely trade that again...

”I find it hard-” kuhk huhk “-to trust you, lion.” It would seem he needed time to contemplate her offer. ”Trust put me here. Took quite a lot from me.” Mika’s voice turning stern, though broken up with wet coughs. Lashing out from behind the screen. Bellowing from the projected shadow to which she spoke. The physical memories of the pain from long ago. The old prices of trust rushing back to his mind. Creating a renewal of resolve. ”Everything but my life...I still have that to risk. If nothing else.” The body of his shadow shifting now. Growing and stretching higher until it faded at the edges of the fog. His standing figure made to look far more imposing by the illusion of distorted light.

A trick the acrobat should be all too familiar with despite her diminutive observation skills. ”I survived what all of you have done to me. But...this place has made me so hungry.” Despite his words preaching a bolstered confidence, it was clear Mika was at least a little scared. Harle might not have the best deductive skills. But surely she knew people? At least how to read her crowd? Well...this one was scared. Anxious. It was unwise to defy a captain without some shred of concern or anxiety. Still, he didn’t make it sound as though he was ready to accept her offer. Like he said, there was still much to risk. ”Tell me. What would you do?” Every word he spoke made his cloud thicker. Each time, prompting more coughs from his chest. Maybe his resolve was just a tenuous one. Waiting to be snapped by a heart dose of the best medicine. Reality.

Something that could not easily be done with words.

”Why should I trust to be handed food?” huhk Giving a grin of his own behind the fog. ”When I could be hunting.” These last words sounded far different than those before. They were forced and yet softly carried. As if he fought between speaking and breathing in. Then, given the silence, it was clear that he was doing neither. No words. No breathes. The field of mist around him fading quickly. Thinning out now that the source was audibly sealed. It would be thanks to this factor and the light produced by the infected prisoners...that the two of them would be able to see one another again.

Each cast in the red hue of the only present light. Heavily covered with shadows. There was no telling how the captain would react to Mika emerging from the mist. Lips sealed and cheeks swollen in a desperate attempt to avoid exhaling. With the heavy cover of darkness still offered them, Mika would feel less inclined to hide his uncovered face. Content to stare at the rival which at both times intrigued and terrified him. Unsure of himself or what should happen next. No longer trusting in the outcomes of planned approaches. Opting instead to improvise solutions to his struggle from her on.

Locking eyes now with the clown. Seeing not the perform, but the spiritual monster that she was. The dancer of death that could very well be the last living person he would ever see. In a way, this was a happy truth. It would be a comfort to know that his reaper was so perfectly matched to his style. Flattering even. Perhaps the captain would not stick around for the visual exchange? Choosing to abandon the exposure. Making use of her uncanny stealth to simply meld back into the bleak. Either way. Staring contest or vanishing act; the medic’s response was the same. To hoist up his emaciated arm, and present the fleshy sprout and roots of his little tree. The fleshy flora looking like a stumpy palm, even in such unflattering light. Yet...something was wrong with it.

Trees aren’t supposed to move.

Wiggling back and forth in his failing grip; the tree fidgeted like the severed limb of an octopus. Showing uncanny flexibility as its long shape whipped about in a fit. All along the body of the sapling were growths. Fat, misshapen swells. Even they were beginning to shift and writhe. The whole of the plant was...changing. The formations seeming to roam and gather beneath the rubbery bark. Pretty soon the gathering blights began to peel and crack. At the base of the tree, were the roots came together to form the core. The tumors congregated and tore open in powerful convulsion. An opening forming. Lined with massive, thick teeth. Not unlike the dentata that one might find on Hollows. In fact...that is exactly what he was holding. A small, baby Hollow. One that became more and more like a work giving the natural shape of the tree it was forming out of. The bark smoothing out more into thick skin. The pulp beneath turning into sinew and muscle, that clearly portrayed itself in the animal’s vigorous struggles.

Behind its new, fangy grin...a saliva oozing maw. Ready to consume whatever those bright teeth could get a bite of. Somehow, this man had turned a dying shrub into a ravenous beast. ”Captain...” A fresh wave of smoke pouring from his lips as he ended his long silence. ”You should know best.” Whether he saw it still or not, his mind would think on her well painted face. Everything it hid. ”We cannot afford to trust.” Fighting against its creator’s hold until the weakened Shinigami could no longer maintain his grip. A sudden fling of its body, and a toss from Mika, setting it free. The oblong creation hurtling through the air as if it were fired from a sling. Screeching until it vanished into the gloomy distance. The...thing, wouldn’t give off any energy. It didn’t seem to possess any spiritual identity or pressure. Other than the chittering of its convulsing muscles and the occasional shift of loose rubble; it was a silent hunter. Not as fast as her, but not slow enough to be a comfort. Just where the hell was it? What did Mika intend with it?

Mika himself faded away into his mist once more. Leaving her, wherever she ended up, on her own. Unfortunately, she was not the only threat to his survival. Nor his pet monstrosity the only dangers awaiting her. There was a chance they could both die before he could trap her. Or she outsmart him. For the cave had grown darker. The light produced within his tree fading before it even grew teeth. The blue glow receding, allowing what light existed within the pit to take over once more. All around them, a new color was becoming dominant. A bright and menacing shade of red. The perfect contrast to the former. Emanating from a great distance away. The vibrant illumination only gathering more strength with the death of the blue. The source of this new incandescence? Why the dead, of course. Countless corpses. All of them strewn about the isolated vault.

Many of them crushed right into the walls of the newly formed dome. Other laid out on the open floor, amid the rubble and boulders that dotted the battlefield. Each of them burning with a great, internal power. The glare being so strong that it escaped from within them and polluted the air about them. Like lanterns of flesh. With the bones and tissue inside made visible by the outpouring radiation. An odd sight, indeed. Not necessarily a new one, perhaps. Had Harle ever seen the likes of Failures before? Was she familiar with their physiology? Did she know that each and every one of these burning corpses was a bomb waiting for ignition. Would she know to avoid them, or would their light stimulate a curiosity and wonder in her? Mika. Well. His knowledge of them was copious. Enough so, that when their shimmering light began to pierce his smokey cloak...he knew exactly the source. Eyes peering back and forth, Mika started counting the number of embers. Knowing only the biggest and brightest were visible to him through his concealment. Meaning so many more could be out there. Invisible from his obscured perspective.

”Soon-” huhk “-our opinions won’t matter.” Still unwilling to drop his guard, or disperse his cloud. Twisting his head, trying to sense any trace of her. A sound and energy signature. Hell, even a half formed shadow. Something. Deepening his breaths, heaving into his coughing, to keep fresh blood in his haze. ”Did you notice the bodies from before? Surely you must notice them now.” Hidden from view. Mika reached for his little sapling. The planted seed now withered. Needing nothing for him to wrench the stem from the ground. The whole of the tree measuring barely the length of his arm. The sound of it popping from the soil loud enough for Harle to hear. ”They are the cause of our current dilemma. When agitated they become quite...volatile.” Stepping away from where her voice last called from.

Keeping his eyes peeled for whichever light was brightest. Closest. ”Even if they go undisturbed, we only have minutes. They will pop...the ceiling will drop.” The sudden clops of bare feet echoing through the room. Mika clearly on the run. Even if she could not see him well through the dark or the mist, the sounds alone would target enough. They were heading, without question, for one of the nearest sources of red light. Straight for one of those bodies he claimed were bombs waiting to blow. A move that was a great risk to his safety and life. The sounds of steps were the trigger for more than just her understanding. For at this cue, something stirred near Harle's location. Something moving acorss one of the sides of a neaby boulder. It moved through the shadoes, slinking around like before. Giving itself away eith a unnatural hissing before it flew at her. That tree-born hollow launching itself like a sling once more. This time as an assault.

Throwing itself, almost like it was using a step technique, several times faster than it was crawling before. Its mighty teeth now had four flapping tendrils that opened up to uncover them. Each tendril littered with barbs to help catch and latch onto its target. The whole length of thr monster measuring barely a meter, still making it quite the large bullet. It lept at her. Through the darkness. Guided by an invisible force. Hoping to catch the captain, and like all other hollows, nibble thr delicious reishi that constituted her flesh. Attacking while its creator fled to his desired objective. Had Harle been listening, then she would know that the only thing he valued more than survival...was freedom. Would he be willing to throw his life away on one of these volatile corpses, if it meant avoiding subjugation? Could she stop him from doing something truly reckless? If she truly meant to offer him freedom. Without strings or tricks. Then how could she convince him of that?

What would she want to hear...if she were hungry. Terrified. Alone...


Bakudo #45: Miasma 2/8, smokescreen duration
Huechoblastoma 1/8

Remaining Reiatsu - 550/3000
-450 Huechoblastoma, the creation of the living tumor

[Kaijin"Harle"Quinn]

From the small dimming light that dispersed the darkness did the man speak. The light itself beckoned the hope in which the man sought out from among the darkness that filled his previous days. Harle understood what he meant, what he desired to accomplish from this little coup. That light represented the hope that all those who were sealed within the Nest. And all that stood in his way was her. A Captain of the Gotei 13. But what he didn't know was what has been transpiring outside the Nest. The world that he knew continued as its always been, however, the lines between friend and foe were obscured. Perhaps not. The Nest carried with it similarities that resembled much of the outside world. The only difference was the Nest's atmosphere didn't shroud its nature. It was clean cut as it seemed.

Beneath the eyes the shadows fought. And within those shadows their purpose were forged of the ill intent of their Masters. And those Masters, those Masters sought their own self interest rather than helping the overall. This "freedom" that Mika spoke of was an illusion. An illusion that was fabricated by the Masters that pulled the strings of those shadows. From that stand point, Mika would have surrendered his freedom, despite his leaving of the Nest. Harle smiled if not chuckled at the illusion of freedom. If she were a Lion and him a mouse, then his freedom would merely be nothing more than roaming the Den of the Lions. And at one point, he would soon find himself shortly returned to the Den by his captors once again.

He posed to her questions. Each breath taken thickened the fumes that surrounded him. Without a doubt the woman retained her distance from him while she paid to mind to what was being said. What could she do to earn the man's trust? What would she do if their roles were shifted? Trust in this day in age was overrated. One could not merely ask for others to trust them. That wasn't how things worked in the world. Maybe it did for a few. Those who would chose to rule by fear. Others by power. And then there were those few who earned it. Which one did Harle fall under? This made the Captain think about what she was going to do. What she had to do. But, did it mean one particular method was better than the other? Was it the correct means of securing the results that she so desired.

Just as the mist grew thick the man emerged from its red scheme. And from it a scene that could only be deemed as nauseating. From the hue of red came blue, then, surrounding them in its vibrant aura did their prison come to life. As if life itself was sprouting forth from Mika. Something that the woman had never been a witness to. At least until now. Beautiful at first, then dangerous when it became more than what it appeared to be. A beauty given fangs to defend itself, then given a proper body to move about. What the man seemed to have given birth to seemed to be impossible, at least without a Zanpakuto. A great length of skill was a definite from what transpired before her very eyes.

This battle quickly became a two on one. Good odds for any Captain. "It iz true of what you zay Monseiur. But-" The beast came at her, claws drawn seeking out her soft flesh. The woman immediately drew her back towards the rear, forming a full arch to have the creature's claw pass over her abdomen. A moment later the arch ceased as the woman pushed her arms away from the rocky surface to set herself against the creature's backside, then shortly is pushed off. She is seen on the rock made walls, climbing higher. Into the shadows the woman faded into, as well did the monster that the man produced from its unknown origins. Strangely enough that the creature had no presence, no reiatsu that enabled her to track the beast. She was forced to remain mobile to prevent herself from being pinned by it.

Down below, the floor came to life. Full of light, the floor below became flooded by the illumination that Mika had created. A sight to behold, especially when nearing the ceiling of the dome. Bodies. Bodies were climbing through the cracks within the formation of the Earth. As if they were of the undead they crawled their way to the top and away from their graves. The man spoke once more, warning of what was to come. Their bodies pulsed with light. Light that only made the veil of mist more apparent as the man withdrew into once more. Each one of them pulsated with light. They resembled those that were referred to as Failures. Being a Captain Harle had access to all sorts of information.

Failures were beings who possessed immense reiatsu. Reiatsu so strong that their bodies were incapable of maintaining stability. Such beings emitted clear symptoms of radiating skin, glowing eyes, and reiatsu seeping out from their bodies in some manner of shape or form. Those dots of light emanated a similar presence as to what the reports described, but were they the same? Harle was one to take risks, but not when lacking an immense sense of knowledge. What her target said made Harle a bit nervous. Despite being a Captain, even she was still prone to some level of anxiousness.

The woman cried out from the shadows that she cloaked herself in, to push forth the words that needed to be said. "-ze freedom zat you seek does not exist in zhis point en time. What makes you zink zat you will be free once you escape from zhis place?" This was where her point would have struck. "Do you believe zat ze forces zat put you here will allow you to be free? Do you zink zat zey will allow you to do what you pleaze?" Should they have found out, then Mika would have been hunted once more. Pursued to no end until his life was extinguished. But, Harle presented something that he didn't have before.

"You will not be able to hunt fo ze food zat you are looking fo. Not while zhere are Lions much bigger zan Harle. But, if you help Harle, zen you will be able to." And there it was, her offer. An offer of help rather than forcing the individual to work for her. Being hired by a Captain presents many benefits to an individual, especially one who was seeking something much larger. That meant more opportunities, and more possibilities. Through her efforts the woman found herself on top. The way that the boulders were positioned made it difficult to truly manage a firm grip. Fortunately for her, she was trained for such an environment.

"Harle can not zay anyzing zat will have you believe her. All Harle do iz prove herzelf wiz action." Mika had given a brief overview to what their predicament was. But that wasn't going to stop the Captain. Instead, she only pushed the time in which the events were going to happen a bit early. The light below wasn't the only light that could have been seen. High above the floor was born a secondary light. Reiatsu drawn into a tight space made by the palms of the woman was it compressed and molded into a sphere of pure energy. Then, as if bearing witness to the sky itself did the light engulf the ceiling. From her hands did the reiatsu pour out into a stream of pure energy that hammered the ceiling. The result was to cause the scrunched up boulders overhead to break and fall.

From there Harle had more possibilities in movement. Boulder upon boulder was she capable of moving about. For what would happen down below her, to the floor riddled in spots of light, was entirely up to Mika and his creations. However, it didn't mean that she would allow the man to fall prey to it. She needed his help.


Remaining Reiatsu: 2150/2400 ; -250 [ Reiatsu Art: Tsukuyomi Strike ]

Combat Posts: 3/7