voice post
LIS'N UP, CITY
Name's Grimmjow. Sexta Espada o'the new order. Don't bitch 'bout that.
YOU'RE VOTIN' FOR ME.
...or you're bleedin' to death.
The hell I wanna do this? Damn simple. You're all layin'on your asses, f'getting why the hell you're livin', why the hell you're breathin', why the hell you got arms and legs and you can tear bones apart with'em.
Seems like r'minder's in order.
I led me some shit b'fore, and ye ain't end up too bad, right, Forte? Fuckin' pick up yer jaw for the damn camera, Fraccion.
Fuck. Who cares.
Losers who got somethin't'say'bout this can whine it to Nnoitra. Don't take too long dyin', fucker's on an execution schedule. Them other bitches competin'? Got an hour to take their asses home, or we havin'us as a talk.
Now, for them o'you who got some brains in, we o' the Espada are mighty friendly people, you're gonna find: see, we got us a whore'n'we ain't shy o' sharing? Freebies for the fuckin'electorate. Bitch got three- four - ...Quincy, you made the fifth, right? Five holes, yeah? Get the right ideas, suckers.
Now, ah, we o'the Espada ain't asking much for our service here. Trash like you can't deliver. So, I'm thinkin'... five o' six souls a week per Arrancar present? Done deal.
An'zat's how it is.
[ooc: for greater lulz justice. VOTE FOR HIM NOT.]