Wherever you are, whenever it's right, I'll come out of nowhere and you'll meet my knife.

[painhumbles]

Who: The Teacher (painhumbles ) and the Student (grimmjerk )
When: Sometime this weekend.
Where: Sector 9, near Casa del Gabriel.
Summary: Grimmjow's no longer a poodle. Unfortunately, there was no "don't beat the shit out of the guy teaching you a lesson" clause in this particular lesson.
Warnings: VIOLENCE. LANGUAGE. HIDE YO KIDS.

Comments

[grimmjerk]

[ It'd all been about finding the empty spot. The asshole, whatever he was, was an absence. A pocket in the air shaped like a person. Tracking him down involved scanning the city for anything and everything that wasn't there at all. Possibly the weirdest and most awkward method he'd ever tried, but whatever. So long as it worked, he didn't care, and he'd look every day and every night until he found him, no matter how long it took.

It only took four days.

There isn't any kind of warning, of course. Why would there be? Why give the bastard time to react? Even Grimmjow isn't stupid enough to stand there and let him pull off the same trick twice.

That's why there is only a flash of white cloth and a boot heel aimed for the back of Gabriel's head, the angel completely alone one second and then suddenly joined by an assailant in the next. ]

[painhumbles]

[Most angels take pain in stride. Their vessels are just meatshields to hide their Grace and allow them to walk and interact with humanity without the risk of anything blowing up or eyeballs getting melted. It's a psych-out technique. Those aren't my nerve-endings. This isn't my body. You can't touch what part of this is actually mine.

Gabriel, it should be said, is not that kind of angel. His body is as much a part of him as his Grace and when he gets kicked in the back of the head, it fucking hurts. He goes down with a yelp, skids across icy pavement and then staggers to his knees, rubbing his head. He glowers upwards, trying to figure out who he's going to have to beat into next Tuesday and finds... Oh.]

...Oh, don't tell me you're still pissed about that. Sheesh. [He gets to his feet.] Lighten up a little, wouldja? You're making a scene.

[grimmjerk]

Not here to chit-chat.

[ Lighten up.

He doesn't, of course. Not fucking stupid, as he always tries to prove. And seeing that face again brings it aaaaall back, his rage, his wounded pride, the niggling, worm-like thread of shame that he hasn't been able to get rid of no matter how hard he's tried. It all mixes together under his skin, hot and alive and infinitely infuriating as it is exhilarating. ]

You think I'd let you just get away with that shit? [ In the blink of an eye, Grimmjow has his arm hauled back; in the next, both himself and his arm have closed the distance between them and it's coming down, his fist aimed at Gabriel's jaw. ] Fat fucking chance!

[painhumbles]

[If Kali could see him now, she'd rescind that comment about all archangels understanding is violence, because all Gabriel understands about violence is that it HURTS. He stands there like an idiot and allows himself to hit, fist making contact with jaw and something breaking. He hits the ground again and spits blood out onto the pavement, clicking his jaw back into place. He glowers up at Grimmjow and with just the ground beneath him gives way in an attempt to sweep the man off his feet. That done, Gabriel stands again.]

Oh, like you got away with picking on little girls and killing lawyers. Okay, okay. So the lawyer probably asked for it- big deal. You'd think a big strong man like you could control his impulses. I suggest anger management.

[grimmjerk]

You--[ --fucker!

Grimmjow's thrown for maybe half a second; it might have been more if the lawyer hadn't tried that exact same trick with those inexplicable powers of his. Fucking handy, then, that he could do a little thing like fly. He starts to fall backward, then catches himself, lifting off the ground by a foot and - speaking of.

It's a foot that he plunges into Gabriel's stomach. ] You ever hear of minding your own damn business?

Save yourself a lot of shit that way!

[painhumbles]

[...Oh that's not normal.

If Gabriel had actually really thought about it, he'd probably have figured this out, but all he got was 'ho hum guy with superpowers, possibly godlike, blah, blah' and since archangels beat almost everything in his universe, he brushed it off. This is not so here.

Gabriel makes a strangled oomph sound and skids across the ground, coughing and sputtering and wheezing. He gags and then gets to his feet again, although already it's obvious he's doing it out of sheer subborness.]

What can I say? I'm a glutton for a punishment. [The sarcasm is wheezy, but Gabriel doesn't care. NOW IT'S PERSONAL.] Okay, Rambo. Enough foreplay.

[Focus Gabriel. Focus. What's the oldest trick in the book?

...Got it.

He vanishes, appearing to Grimmjow's left, fully intending him to see him and lunge. Except that's just a copy he'll be lunging at- perfectly real, perfectly him down to the last molecule. It's a decoy to allow Gabriel to get behind him and go for the kill.

No more Mr. Nice Angel.]

[grimmjerk]

[ No chances. No openings. No fucking mercy because if Grimmjow's learned anything while living in this city, he's learned that everyone and everything could be hiding Aizen knew what up their ass to pull out at the worst time. More than once he's been taken out by just that kind of trick - with the Quincy, with the lawyer, with Re-l, and this guy already - and fuck if he's going to let it keep happening.

No chances. He's not going to forget that.

When Gabriel disappears, there's a tense pause, the Espada rooted on the spot - then he's swinging his body around, facing the man directly. He doesn't move, though, doesn't take one step.

Instead, his arm comes up, brilliant red light spilling from his palm. The cero takes several seconds to charge, but if he gets it off, the blast will be enough to take out most of the street with the blast.

Wouldn't be the first time the city's suffered collateral damage. ]

[painhumbles]

[The street, yes. Gabriel, not so much, although you wouldn't think it when the blast hits him and not the copy and he ends up half-curled and bleeding in a nest of debris, his sword clutched in both hands. The copy looks momentarily perplexed before rippling out of existence, and Gabriel curls a little tighter around himself, hands shaking around the deathgrip on the hilt. The wounds will heal, the pain will stop, bones will knit, but his sword is his and as the only thing in this city that can kill him.

He's bleeding, in serious pain, but alive when a normal person should've been obliterated. If this had been a human body he was wearing, he'd probably be shopping for a new vessel. Thank you, Loki. He coughs once and notes the blood on the stone. Ohhh that should.... Probably be on the inside of his body, right?

Bastard. This is why Tricksters don't get involved with non-humans. Stubborness demanded that he get up and try again. The small scrap of intelligence he had said lie down and don't get upFine. He'll play the down dog. That

[grimmjerk]

[ He sees double for a second, wonders what the hell - but that outcome is nothing he's going to question. The blast shakes the immediate area, windows rattling in their frames and cars jerking back and forth from the residual shockwaves. Debris large and small pelts the sidewalk, the buildings, and those unlucky few who'd dared look out windows and doorways to see just what the fuck was happening. He pays them about as much attention as he does the large cracks that split the asphalt and the smoke that billows up into the air.

Grimmjow drops his arm, striding across the torn space toward where the trench narrows down to a pile, and a man.

...guess this guy really is something else. ]

Still alive, huh?

[ Smug, smiling, but smart enough to keep ten feet away, the arrogant and obviously satisfied Arrancar surveys the damage. He could go in, finish the job, he knew, but...

Heh. Maybe the lawyer was on to something about the whole letting them live idea. ]

Keep the hell out of my business next time.