Anger breeds violence
Characters: Xion irreversibly and Grimmjow grimmjerk
Location: Just outside of Dr. Resarci's clinic.
Time: August 16th, late in the afternoon.
Summary: Grimmjow's general disregard for such petty things as "the doctor's not in" and "it's past regular business hours." Frustration has gotten the better of him and Xion is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Warnings: FIGHTIN' also Grimmjow curses like a sailor.
It was hard to tell there was anything wrong until a chair broke through one of the windows.
Then it was possible to hear the terrified shrieking from the staff inside, the slamming doors and the sound of crumbling plaster and splintering plastic. The wretched, high-pitched groaning had to be metal as it was bent and twisted by some incredible force, if that was even possible. Another window soon followed the first, though the chair this time resembled a knot of materials rather than a piece of furniture. The shrieking intensified.
In the middle of it all was a man's hoarse shouting, thick with rage and frustration.
Even he knew not to fly off the handle. He wasn't a beast, he wasn't mindless. He hadn't gotten as far as he had by making stupid mistakes, not all the time. But--
"I've had it with this shit!" Another crash, another snarl, and a third window shattered.
They'd gotten to him, wounded him, screwed with his body in some way that he still couldn't understand. Someone was fucking with him, with all of them, and nobody did that to him and got away with it for very long.
Location: Just outside of Dr. Resarci's clinic.
Time: August 16th, late in the afternoon.
Summary: Grimmjow's general disregard for such petty things as "the doctor's not in" and "it's past regular business hours." Frustration has gotten the better of him and Xion is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Warnings: FIGHTIN' also Grimmjow curses like a sailor.
It was hard to tell there was anything wrong until a chair broke through one of the windows.
Then it was possible to hear the terrified shrieking from the staff inside, the slamming doors and the sound of crumbling plaster and splintering plastic. The wretched, high-pitched groaning had to be metal as it was bent and twisted by some incredible force, if that was even possible. Another window soon followed the first, though the chair this time resembled a knot of materials rather than a piece of furniture. The shrieking intensified.
In the middle of it all was a man's hoarse shouting, thick with rage and frustration.
Even he knew not to fly off the handle. He wasn't a beast, he wasn't mindless. He hadn't gotten as far as he had by making stupid mistakes, not all the time. But--
"I've had it with this shit!" Another crash, another snarl, and a third window shattered.
They'd gotten to him, wounded him, screwed with his body in some way that he still couldn't understand. Someone was fucking with him, with all of them, and nobody did that to him and got away with it for very long.