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Dec 08, 2008 20:53

Who: Sam Vimes stony_faced and Ulquiorra Schiffer sfigato_quarto AND LATER Motoko Kusanagi deuxesmachina
What: Ulquiorra goes to get groceries for himself and Kairi, only to run into the AMC sergeant who's been after him.
When: Monday, December 8th, afternoon.
Where: Some market in Monacello territory by Ulquiorra's apartment.

( this is a cut. :D )

ulquiorra schiffer, sam vimes

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stonyfaced December 9 2008, 03:05:21 UTC

Despite the AMC's best efforts, they didn't seem to be able to find the whereabouts of Ulquiorra Schiffer, nor were they able to find the addresses of anybody else. Which was frustrating, really, since Vimes knew every nook and cranny of what he considered to be his city. Instead of sitting around and feeling vaguely useless, however, he decided to go out on the beat. Technically, he didn't have to do it now that he was a sergeant, but it was what he knew, and what he was best at.

Besides, he figured that they thought that they were all right now, and chances were that if he met one of the suspects, he had stared at their pictures long enough to identify them. Putting his mind on auto, he walked that special walk of the copper that meant he could go on for hours and passed by a grocery store. There was a dark alley beside it that simply screamed, if you want your life, don't come in! Which, of course, meant that one of the suspects could be... uh ( ... )

sfigato_quarto December 9 2008, 03:12:03 UTC

Ulquiorra was always on guard. But yes, this had been sloppy. He should have known better. He sighed. He didn't think of this as the end, not at all. He thought of this as a small annoyance.

The young man's eerie, large, green eyes darted over to Vimes. He stared him down coldly, as if looking straight through the officer. He moved slowly towards the wall, setting down the piece of fruit and moving towards the outside wall of the market in the alley. He touched his chest to the brick wall, and put his hands on the small of his back, palms out.

"Is buying groceries a suspicious crime," he asked. It was a question coming from Ulquiorra, even if it was made in a deadpan. He kept watching Vimes carefully over his shoulder.

Just an annoyance.

stonyfaced December 9 2008, 03:29:57 UTC

Vimes chose not to answer the man, not until he got the handcuffs on. It couldn't have been that easy. The easiest men he had ever caught were ones who screamed and howled and went on but were virtually useless when it came to actually fighting him off. It was the quiet ones that worried Vimes.

Regardless, he snapped the cuffs shut. "Under suspicion of bombings," he said, passively. "Eyes forward, lad. Come on, let's go." He said it, but didn't take his strong grip from off of the chain between the cuffs. It was important to do things right. People were watching, and they needed to exude the image of having control over the situation, of being the good, just association they really weren't.

sfigato_quarto December 9 2008, 03:53:08 UTC

Ulquiorra lowered his eyelids in his trademark annoyed look. The guy seemed to be just as silent as he was. It wasn't like Ulquiorra to kick and scream. There was only one person who had ever broken him down to that level. Those were days that he was still trying to forget.

It was Ulquiorra's turn not to answer. He brought one leg up, making contact with the wall. It all happened rather fast. He pushed off the wall, and brought his other leg around, nailing Vimes in the stomach. He followed through by bring his other leg along for the turn of his body, this time connecting with Vimes' shoulder.

Okay, now it was time to run.

stonyfaced December 9 2008, 04:12:32 UTC

The kick to his gut, Vimes was expecting, but its strength knocked him off guard enough to let the guy rip his handcuffs out of his grasp to turn around and kick him in the shoulder. That, Vimes wasn't expecting and he staggered backwards. Not long, but long enough to let him begin to run.

Swearing and clutching at his offended shoulder, he loped after him and soon broke into a run. Vimes was good at running. He had a lot of experience, way back, running away from criminals instead of to. That was a time of less injuries. Nevertheless, he continued to pursue, shrugging his shoulder and feeling it crack painfully back into place. How the hell did he manage to bring his leg up so goddamn high, anyways ( ... )

sfigato_quarto December 9 2008, 04:56:23 UTC

To say that Ulquiorra ran like hell would be an understatement. One of his enhancements was his speed. At night, he probably could have shaken Vimes, but during the day, he wasn't so sure. He did not have much time to plan either. He just ran.

Coming to face that dead end alley had him frown. Now this man had upped himself to troubleUlquiorra turned around to face him. he gave the man a bit of a haughty look, if only with his eyes and a small tilt of his head. He had to be kidding. Go quietly? Ulquiorra was a silent man, but his actions were anything but quiet. A small smirk came onto his face, but only for a moment ( ... )

stonyfaced December 9 2008, 05:12:03 UTC

Moving his handcuffs to the front was most definitely an aggressive move. With the guy's leg strength and flexibility, coupled with the fact that Vimes tasted a bit of his power meant that he wouldn't underestimate him. And he remained silent, too. Sometimes people wondered if those who laughed for no reason at all and chattered incessantly while spreading murders were psychopaths, but Vimes begged to differ--sometimes, the ones who fought without saying a word seemed much more mad ( ... )

sfigato_quarto December 9 2008, 05:41:59 UTC

Ulquiorra felt his right arm protest. He was still healing after what squalo's shark had done to him. It was tender. He felt his old leg would ache a little. Everyone and a while, Grimmjow's actual physical damage would come back to haunt him along with everything else that he could not forget ( ... )

stonyfaced December 9 2008, 15:32:21 UTC

Vimes grunted as his leg jerked to the side, smarting in pain. Luckily, he knew pressure points well enough to know that he wasn't injured, just... hurting. Which wasn't very consoling, but good enough. He started as Ulquiorra faced the open alley, but for whatever reason, the guy didn't run. Ulquiorra was too cocksure by half, but not foolish, Vimes felt--discard the stupid copper and make a run for it, right?

Wrong. Vimes felt rage bubble up inside of him with the knowledge that this was a Monacello, a man who had killed coppers, a man who had killed civilians, a man who had killed people who didn't know any better and just wanted to get through life. And nobody touched Vimes' men. Still, he had had his encounter with the Beast before, and he knew to hold it in, to wait. Wait until he needed it. Wait until he faced the goddamn leader of this. Ulquiorra was just a grunt ( ... )

sfigato_quarto December 10 2008, 01:59:34 UTC

Ulquiorra's expression did not falter when Vimes drew the gun. His eyes just locked onto to every little move that the gun made. Ulquiorra might be a small fry now, but he wasn't a man to underestimate. Someday, he wanted to be up there. He wanted to lead. He wanted to serve the family to the best of his ability, and repay them for taking him in all those years ago when he faced certain elimination at the hands of his Spanish mafia family.

But the gun was a certainly a problem for anyone. He had to worry about that first. But he also had to consider, would Vimes actually use it? Shooting at this time of day ran a large risk of civilians in the cross fire. Ulquiorra knew he did not care, but what about Vimes?

This was a delicate question. He just watched the gun, and waited. Maybe if he disarmed this man and got in one more hit, he could make a break for it. He certainly did not want to run the risk of being shot in the back.

stonyfaced December 10 2008, 04:59:20 UTC

As he moved forward, his left arm came up, as if he were about to punch him with his metal-clad hands, but instead, flung his right arm forward, sharply. If all worked correctly, metal would connect with metal, and there'd be a satisfying snap! of a broken jaw, and...

All right, bone was hard. Cheeks weren't supposed to be. Shit. He was one of those modified bastards, wasn't he? Just Vimes' luck. It was risky, too risky to use a gun, and there was no way in hell that he'd try to connect his fist with the bugger. Goddamn it.

In a moment, he decided with a fatalistic air, he would probably be in a world of pain.

sfigato_quarto December 10 2008, 05:22:59 UTC

It worked well enough, Ulquiorra got ready to block the brass knuckled fist, not expecting the cop to hit him with the gun. It hurt. It hurt quite a lot. There was probably going to be a large bruise there, even if the top layer of his skin was not damaged, the force of the hit would still leave a mark ( ... )

stonyfaced December 10 2008, 05:38:32 UTC

Vimes stared in surprise as Ulquiorra fell, and stepped forward, intending to simply bash the guy's head in until he got himself properly knocked out when he suddenly lunged forward. Making a low, indecipherable groan of pain as the knife sunk into the tender flesh of his shoulder, the sound intensified as it was twisted.

He staggered backwards, not thinking much of anything, except to get the damn dagger out of his shoulder as fast as possible and to get Ulquiorra off of him because oh god he's been shot before but it doesn't make getting hurt again any less painful.

Managing to stumble away from Ulquiorra, he bent down to the ground lowly and for a moment, it was as if the dagger's hilt disappeared underneath his hand as he gripped it and - fuck fuck it hurt it hurt - yanked it out. He held onto it, sickly fascinated by the sheen of his own blood on it. Revulsion rose in his gut, but he ignored it, ignored the pain, ignored the Beast ( ... )

sfigato_quarto December 10 2008, 06:39:51 UTC

A small smirk flashed across Ulquiorra's face before is disappeared. His sick fascination with pain and gore rivaled his ex-lover's, but he hid it much better. Sometimes he wasn't sure what was worse, open insanity or a hidden one ( ... )

stonyfaced December 10 2008, 06:50:42 UTC

He barely saw Ulquiorra move, and even if he had, he wouldn't have expected a hand to be jammed up his wound. Unable to stifle it, he screamed out in pain, white flashing behind his shut eyes, jaw clenching and unbidden tears springing behind his lids. Saying that it hurt was an understatement. He gasped for breath, but even that was hindered by the pain lancing through his entire arm.

Control it. Control the pain and harness it and feed it to the Beast and take this fucker down and that was what had to happen and take a deep deep breath. He took a deep breath and crumpled to the ground. With a shaky arm but a steady hand, he whipped out his gun with his left hand and shot, twice. Don't aim straight ahead. Aim towards the ground, so no one else is hurt. Ankle. Knee cap. Thigh. Anything ( ... )

sfigato_quarto December 10 2008, 07:02:41 UTC

This was his chance. Ulquiorra had to get out of there. His arm dripping with Vimes' blood, Ulquiorra was just about to push off and start running when he heard a loud noise, and something eerily familiar washed over him:

The feeling of his leg being crippled.

One bullet had found it's mark in the same leg that had so crippled him months before. The injury that had made him lose what felt like everything. This bullet could not have found a more crippling spot.

If Ulquiorra had one weak spot...one flaw...it was that leg.

The forward momentum from his failed attempt to run took him down flat on his stomach. The shock of the pavement and the whiplash on his neck made his head hurt, even if it hadn't made contact with the ground.

No. This was not it. He was not going to be defeated by this leg again. He had vowed that he was much stronger than that. What had he gone home and trained for? What had he left Reggio Calabria to accomplish? Was he really back where he started? Only this time he was not crippled on Grimmjow's kitchen ( ... )

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