#greatbat

She would never like the arrancar. They, products of a man who ruined her life, and designed to kill Shinigami. Her loved ones.

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She feels ---- weird. As if she’s constantly and continuously being observed. Asari often are more in touch with their minds than other species --- even more so a matriarch like she is, and yet she cannot resist this feeling, this... nagging in the back of her head.  

“ Saren. ” And she sees him turning towards her, half of his face engulfed in cybernetics, glowing in the penumbra of the ship. She does not know where he got them, at days he disappears for hours inside the ship and reappears --- different. 

You will obey me. 

The voice rings clear in her head, and she closes her eyes, attempts to block it out. Benezia, she hears coming from the Turian, but she pays him no mind. Not when she’s busy with ---- who is it? Yet there’s not much she can do, and she knows. It’s been a thing slowly going on for days, weeks even. At first, just a feeling, and then more and more insistent. Until the voice. She pushes one palm on her forehead, physically attempting to push it out. Needless to say, it doesn’t work. It seems to have the opposite effect. She feels it anchoring inside.

You can’t win. 

Once again, she registers the turian speaking in front of her and --- what is he saying? Something about --- Don’t resist. Embrace it. The reapers can save us all. 

The reapers?

A groan leaves her lips, and she loses her footing. Saren catches her, she feels his body against her, cybernetic augmentations aiding him, his unnatural coldness numbing her senses. “ I --- ” In her heart, she knows she can’t win. The --- indoctrination, because this is what it is, isn’t it? Started so long ago, and they had all the time to work her defenses, to have her lower her inhibitions. 

I am Sovereign. And you --- you will be a vessel for our return.

彡     ─── Grimmjow knew pain. He was used to pain, even thrived with it. But this...this was something different. Foreign. This was heartache. Torture. At first he didn't move -- frozen in place, except for rapidly blinking eyes and fists wound so tight his knuckles turned white. He opened his mouth to speak. A scream was forming, building up in his throat, but it didn't make it past his lips. Grimmjow turned to run, sprinting as far away from Ulquiorra as possible, and then everything else.

He wound up in the human world. His spiritual pressure bursted for miles, but he didn't care. He hoped another hollow or a soul reaper would find him. He'd welcome that battle. The sexta was set to fight, bashing and tearing at anything he could get his hands on. Cars, telephone poles, fences, and trees, until his palms and arms were bleeding from various cuts and scrapes. He wouldn't stop there. No. He'd knock down a whole fucking building if one got in his way. Luckily Grimmjow was in the middle of nowhere -- a deserted parking lot with empty fields that stretched for miles beyond that. It was here all that pent up rage and anger was allowed out. He finally released his mournful scream. 

( Drinking starters )