Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Limitless ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

Limitless

Chapter Two

by Kel

A Bleach Alternate Universe fanfiction

Rating: T for violence, some suggestive themes

Disclaimers: Kubo Tite's the genius behind the characters. Some elements closely resemble those of Joss Whedon's Firefly/Serenity series. I think I lifted a few things from George Lucas, too. Anyway… not all of this is mine.

Summary: In the future, the Core and the Colonies are butting heads, wreaking havoc on the shipping trade. Couriers between the worlds are hard pressed to find work, and a when small group of people find themselves caught in the middle, they'll also find that saving themselves won't be enough.

 

It was only mid-morning, and already Chad Yasutora was having a busy day. He knew when he got this job at the District Employment Agency that he'd be in for long days, working with demanding and sometimes downright disturbing people. Then again, he'd been on the other side of the counter before, and knew exactly how frustrating it could be to muddle through the paperwork.

 

It was especially busy today. The dozens of people had piled up, and all semblance of order had long gone by the wayside. There were no longer lines in front of the counters; just a mass of people, all talking. Some complaining. Some on their comms. Some yelling. Chad tore his gaze from the milling crowd and refocused on the idiot he had been trying to ignore. The man was about his own age, light eyes narrowed in anger and long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Chad knew without looking that Geoff's hands were clenched into fists and he was practically on his toes; Geoff had been in the agency often enough Chad no longer had to look at his file.

 

“Now, come on! You have got to have something, Yasutora!”

 

Chad straightened slowly, eyes narrowed under dark waves of hair. He towered over the counter, and towered over the boy yelling at him. “I told you,” he said softly. “I've got nothing else.”

 

“Yeah, right. The rest of these losers are gonna get something, aren't they?” The boy through his hands in the air, and gestured to dozens of people milling around the lobby. “Gimme a break.”

 

“I have, Geoff,” he pointed out, his tone still mild.

 

Geoff leaned forward, idly scratching underneath his ponytail. “Look, bro, I need a job.”

 

“Then you shouldn't walk out on what I find for you.” Chad started rummaging under the counter, pulling out a stack of files and setting them to the side.

 

Geoff slammed his hands on the counter, upsetting the stack of files. “I'm telling ya, Yasutora, if you don't hook me up somehow…”

 

Chad only raised an eyebrow, righted the files, and then looked over Geoff's head. “Next.”

 

Geoff raised his fist, scowling. A hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked backward, nearly sending Geoff to the ground.

 

“You seriously aren't thinking of hitting him, are you?”

 

Geoff turned, pulling against the hold, and scowled at the young man holding his wrist. “Who the hell are you?” he spat as he shook his wrist for all he was worth. It didn't do any good.

 

The young man rolled his eyes. “Ichigo. And, seriously, you were going to hit him?” He chucked a thumb at Yasutora. “Cause that's just stupid.”

 

“The bastard won't give me my job!” Geoff abruptly stopped pulling and settled for leveling what was supposed to be a threatening gaze on Chad.

 

Ichigo raised an eyebrow and dropped Geoff's wrist. “Oi, Chad. What kind of scum you hiring nowadays?”

 

Chad's response was quick. “Your kind.”

 

Ichigo brightened and turned toward him. “Really? You got something for me?”

 

“Small delivery job.”

 

Ichigo leaned against the counter, not quite grinning, but not hiding the eagerness. “Do I get to fly?”

 

Before Chad could answer, an angry voice interrupted. “You have a job for him?” Geoff pointed to Ichigo. “But not for me?”

 

Chad sighed. “Look, Geoff, you've walked off every job I've offered. I'm not handing you a thing.”

 

Geoff didn't bother answering; instead he stepped close to Ichigo and grabbed the front of his gray jacket, pulling Ichigo a few steps away from the counter. “Back off my job,” he growled, jerking Ichigo closer.

 

Ichigo rolled his eyes again and abruptly raised his knee.

 

Geoff dropped, whimpering. Ichigo straightened his jacket, stepped over him, and leaned against the counter. “Do I get to fly?” he asked again.

 

Chad shook his head. “Only if your bike's been outfitted for it. Sorry; this one's just `cross town.”

 

Ichigo wilted. “Just a delivery?”

 

Chad handed him an envelope. “It pays.”

 

Ichigo stared at the envelope forlornly. “You ever gonna find me something good?”

 

“It pays.”

 

“I just want to fly.” Ichigo leaned against the counter, staring at a point behind Chad's shoulder. “Feel the thrum of takeoff.”

 

“You want it or not?”

 

“The push of the engines.”

 

“I can give it back to Geoff.”

 

“The pull off high-speed maneuvers.”

 

“It's a rush job, Ichigo.”

 

“The power…”

 

Chad shoved the envelope into Ichigo's face. “Stop talking and go.”

 

Ichigo grabbed the envelope, frowning as he opened it. “Yeah, I'm going.”

 

“Come back tomorrow,” Chad told him as he stepped back over Geoff's prone - and whimpering - form.

 

Ichigo waved as he threaded through the crowd toward the door. “Find me something where I can fly.”

 

Chad shook his head and turned his gaze back to Geoff. He pushed up his sleeves; Geoff would need escorted away from the Agency.

 

~~~~~~*

 

He hated bicycles. Really, seriously, without reservation hated them. To no end. In an age where people gallivanted across the damn galaxy in fast little courier ships, Ichigo was relegated to a bicycle. A two-wheeled monstrosity that required pedaling. Its wheels stayed on the ground. He felt every bump, every jolt, every rock. Puddles splashed on his pants legs. People walked in front of him. There wasn't a break in the crowds, and Ichigo scowled. Flying was so much better. There was room to maneuver in space.

 

The front wheel of the bike caught suddenly, turning sideways as water splashed up Ichigo's arms. He yelped as the bike slid sideways and put his foot down to catch himself and slid to an awkward stop. Muttering curses not quite under his breath, he jerked the front wheel out of the pothole filled with muddy water. Without looking up, he pedaled forward again, only to be stopped short by a thump and a yelp.

 

It took him a moment to realize that the young woman standing in the middle of the street was what he'd hit. He rolled his eyes; should've known. Every time he went out on one of these pointless runs, he ran over at least three people. He sighed, one foot on the ground, the other resting on a pedal, and rested his arms on the handlebars. Usually, he didn't run over someone he knew. He looked around nervously; she was starting to draw a crowd. Perfect.  Someone would report him back to the agency and it'd be weeks before he got another job, even with Chad's help.

 

She was waving shyly at him. He groaned. It took a special kind of girl to wave and smile cheerfully at the man who'd just run into her with a bicycle.

 

And that kind of “specialness” at least deserved acknowledgement. “Inoue,” he said, nodding in her direction. “You all right?”

 

She laughed, waving her hands in front of her ample chest. “Oh, I'm fine.” She knocked her fist against her side. “I'm tough, so you didn't do a single bit of damage.”

 

Ichigo smothered a wince; he may not have done any damage but if she hit herself any harder, she'd be sporting bruises. He shook his head; Inoue was far from stupid, but her own brand of naïveté and cheerfulness left most people wondering just how the girl survived from day to day. He blinked, realized she was still looking at him with wide grey eyes, and groaned; she was waiting for him to answer her.

 

That was the most annoying thing about this girl. She liked conversation. She especially liked conversations that involved flesh-eating robots. Ichigo wasn't sure if he was up to including such things in conversation, so he opted for the easy way out. “Sorry `bout that, Inoue,” he said. Apology first, then a reason to run away. “I'm on a rush schedule, though. Gotta run.” Worked every time.

 

She brightened and pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear. “A job?”

 

Ichigo grunted.

 

“Chad have anything else?” she asked, her hands clasped together. Ichigo wondered briefly - again - how she survived. How can anything that looked that innocent possibly make it on one of these colonies? “I could really use some extra.” She bit her lip and blushed. “Seems I used up all my peanut butter last time I made my spaghetti sauce and I just don't have enough money to get more.”

 

Ichigo blanched. “Peanut butter?” He blinked. “That's rare enough without using it for… sauce…” He trailed off, closed his eyes. Yeah, he'd been trying to run away. Damn, messed that up.

 

“So, did Chad tell you if he had anything for a poor girl who needs peanut butter?”

 

Ichigo shook his head. “Nah, he just handed me this job. You know Chad. Not a big talker.”

 

Inoue smiled brightly. “That doesn't mean he doesn't have anything to say.” She shrugged. “He didn't know you'd run into me.”

 

“I didn't know I'd run into you.” Ichigo straightened and moved the bike forward a bit. “I gotta run, Inoue. Rush job, like I said.”

 

She winked and waved. “Have fun!”

 

As he rode off, he afforded her a glance and shook his head as she waltzed in the direction of the agency. Waltzed. Complete with dips and twirls. That girl was going to get herself in a spot one of these days, and damned if he'd be the one who got her out of trouble. He snorted and jumped a curb, unaware he had a follower.

 

~~~~~~~*******~~~~~

 

“Randall Thorpe's disappeared.”

 

Hitsugaya frowned at the older blond man on the screen. “Yes, I've heard.”

 

Urahara Kisuke tapped the screen with a fan. “That's trouble for you, Toushirou.”

 

“You think I don't know that?” Hitsugaya snapped. His hand came down on the leather-bound ledger. That hand fisted and Hitsugaya snorted softly. “I have it well in hand.”

 

“Do you?” Urahara turned to the side and tapped a few times off-screen. “I'm sending you something. You'll find it interesting.”

 

“How interesting?” Hitsugaya leaned back in his chair, eyes seeking the stars outside the office portal.

 

Urahara laughed and Hitsugaya barely refrained from wincing; the comm transmission gave it a tinny, almost menacing sound. “You've managed to land yourself in trouble, my friend. You've crossed a lot of people lately.”

 

Hitsugaya harrumphed. “I've been minding my own business lately, Urahara. I've done nothing but run a few errands.”

 

“Kisuke, Kisuke. How many times do I need to tell you that, Toushirou?” Urahara shook his head, clucking his tongue. “Listen to me, Mr. Infallible. You are in trouble. I'm trying to help.”

 

Hitsugaya regarded the monitor with a hooded gaze. “Your help always comes with a price, Kisuke.” He crossed his arms; with Thorpe out of the picture now, though, he couldn't outright dismiss Urahara's offer. Hitsugaya knew good and well that Urahara wouldn't contact him without a damn good reason.

 

“I'll waive the fee for now, Toushirou.”

 

“How generous.” Damn. He'd be owing Urahara and that was worse by far than just paying for the information. There was silence for a moment before Hitsugaya sighed. “All right,” he said leaning back a little. “What do you have?”

 

“Thorpe was connected to the murders in the capital.”

 

Hitsugaya's eyes widened. “If they find his records…”

 

“You'll be implicated.”

 

Hitsugaya shook his head. “I can get around that. Yamamoto has a lot of pull up there.”

 

Urahara snorted. “The old man might be able to get you out of trouble with the Core, but that's not your only problem.” He paused. “You'll owe me for this.”

 

“I don't see I have a choice.”

 

Urahara nodded. “I'm fair, Toushirou.”

 

“Like hell. Tell me what you know.”

 

“The murders, Thorpe's disappearance, the Core heating up… It's all connected to the Montoya family.”

 

Hitsugaya blinked. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

 

“You ran a job for them. You're connected to all, and you've the records to prove it. The Core'll come down on you if the Montoyas don't get to you first.”

 

Hitsugaya shook his head. “I don't quite understand.”

 

“That last job,” Urahara said. “That one that's landed your crew in Belio? That's the Montoya cargo.”

 

Hitsugaya sat up suddenly. “Its three days late.”

 

“And it'll get later. Someone's going to come looking for it. Whether it's the Core or Montoya…”

 

“The only difference will be how we die. Shot by Montoya or strung up by the Core.”

 

“Exactly.” Urahara smiled grimly. “Look at the information I've given you.” He signed off without so much as a goodbye, leaving Hitsugaya to stare blankly at a dark screen for a moment before grabbing the headset on the desk.

 

“Hanatarou?” He barely waited for Hanatarou to finish his timid reply before he was giving orders. “Start locking down the warehouse. Give me a final inventory in three hours.” He didn't listen to a reply before throwing the headset down.

 

His fist came down on the desktop. After a moment, he activated his screen again. His crew had to know. They had to get out of Belio.

 

His comm was met with silence. Matsumoto never answered.

 

He put the call on repeat - a chance, to be sure; it could be traced easily that way and anyone could pick it up - and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't sure of his next move, but he'd be damned if he'd just sit and wait for something to happen.

 

~~~~~*

 

Nemu knew she was beautiful - the red headed man she had been ordered to follow certainly found her alluring in the Blue Door - and she wasn't against using that beauty to her advantage. She also knew she was quiet and inconspicuous when she needed to be. Nemu never regarded such abilities and beauty with pride; they were simply tools to her. They were the things she needed to accomplish her tasks.

 

She'd learned early on that if she didn't meet requirements, there were consequences.

 

The warehouse door loomed in front of her, an open maw in the twilight of Beta-121's white sun. Nemu's sharp gaze pierced the darkness inside, searching for Mayuri - for any sign of life - and found nothing. It didn't mean he wasn't there; Mayuri continually proved himself superior to her senses. She was quiet, her sandaled feet barely kicking up small puffs of dust as she moved, but she knew she could be easily seen. Her short dress was bright red against the darkness, and her pale skin she knew would shine in the waning sun like a beacon. She wouldn't enter the warehouse unnoticed. She never did.

 

One slender hand wrapped around the doorpost as she stepped inside. Her dark eyes were wide, but she noted no movement. Her hand trailing behind her, she moved forward, knowing Mayuri would emerge from the darkness with nary a sound.

 

He delighted in proving himself better than his protégé. His student would never surpass her teacher. She wasn't sure if she wanted to try; taking orders suited her better than giving them.

 

Nemu stopped a few feet inside the door, her gaze rising to the offices on the second floor above her. Dim light spilled from a window with half-pulled blinds; she could barely see it glint off the metal catwalks above her. She wondered if Mayuri was working in his office there; sometimes he fled his more luxurious quarters for his small corner in this warehouse.

 

She wouldn't go up there, though. He had told her to come back to the warehouse with her information. His office may be in the warehouse, but she only did his bidding and no more. Had he wanted her in the office, he would have ordered it. She stood quietly, not moving, breathing softly.

 

The movement behind her was felt more than seen or heard, and she tensed. Still, she would not move. She knew who stood in the darkness behind her. There was a rustle of cloth, barely heard. He was moving.

 

“Nemu, darling.”

 

Nemu didn't have time - or the inclination - to turn around before he was behind her, wrapping strong arms around her. She made herself relax, only marginally. He'd taught her to be ever wary.

 

“Ah, good,” he whispered, warm breath stirring the wisps of hair around her ear. His hand flattened across her stomach and the other drifted up to her collarbone. “Report, love.”

 

“It's them,” was all she said.

 

Mayuri chuckled, the sound deep and almost purring. “And the cargo?”

 

“Intact, in their holds.”

 

“What of their ship?”

 

“The Lily is damaged, and it is only the three of them.”

 

“Can she fly?”

 

Nemu considered this for a moment; his palm pressed against her belly, his fingernails digging into the fabric of her dress. “Doubtful,” she said finally, her tone unchanged.

 

He pulled her closer, flush against him. “You've done well.” The hand moved from her collar to cup her chin. “Don't move from this spot; I have to set things in motion.” As suddenly as he had embraced her, he was gone.

 

Nemu breathed shallowly, eyes half-closed. She didn't so much as twitch while he was gone.

 

~~~~~*

“Any idea when our rescuers are gonna show?”

 

Rangiku shrugged as she followed Renji up the ramp of the Lily and into the cargo bay. “A couple days, at least. We are rather far out.”

 

“You sure he sent the crew?”

 

Rangiku snorted and shook her head. “C'mon, Renji. This is Shorty we're talking about. He follows through; you know that.”

 

Renji looked up sharply as the loud crash echoed through the cargo bay. He pulled up short, Rangiku running into his back with a muffled curse. "What the hell..."

 

"What's going on?" Rangiku asked, peering around Renji's shoulder.

 

Another loud crash rang against the bulkheads, and they could hear Ikkaku cursing. He yelped, and a sound like someone falling reached their ears.

 

Rangiku narrowed her eyes and glanced at Renji - who was suspiciously stoic; she could practically see him trying to bottle up the confusion - as she heard a chittering. It wasn't long before she could see what was making the sound: it was small, about as long as her forearm from nose to tail, and it ran with a fluid gait. Its mouth was open, displaying small - and undoubtedly sharp - fangs. It ran past them, still chittering, and Rangiku sputtered. "It's a lizard!"

 

Ikkaku rounded the corner, scratches adorning his cheeks, and looking ready to kill. "It's a damn stowaway."

 

Rangiku was staring speculatively after the stowaway. “It was blue and scaly.”

 

“Brilliant, Ran. Really. Help me get it off the ship, huh?”

 

“You worry too much,” Rangiku said shortly, waving a hand. She peered past Ikkaku and Renji, trying to get another glimpse of the lizard. “It was cute.”

 

“It was evil,” Ikkaku countered. “Tried to kill me.”

 

Rangiku blinked at him. “It… what?”

 

Renji shook his head and forcibly turned Ikkaku back toward the corridor he'd come running out of. “We have work to do.”

 

Ikkaku, reluctantly moving forward, glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, c'mon, Renji! We need to get rid of that thing.”

 

“It'll probably just leave on its own. And I'm not letting you run amok just to satisfy an urge to kill.”

 

“I'm not that bad!”

 

Renji shoved Ikkaku forward. “Yes. You are.”

 

Ikkaku shook his head, planted his feet and spun around. “Hey, Ran,” he called, ignoring Renji's glare. “You have the nav system up and running?”

 

Rangiku paused on the stairs to the second-story catwalk. “Mostly. Why? We're not going anywhere.”

 

“Just wanted to put through a couple scenarios.”

 

Renji took hold of Ikkaku's shoulders and spun him back around. “I am not letting you plot our next course.”

 

“Aw, Captain…”

 

“Asteroid field ring a bell, dumbass?”

 

“Renji…”

 

“You finished up that list of damaged systems?”

 

Ikkaku sighed, shoulders slumping under Renji's hands. “It'd be easier if you wanted a list of the things that still work.” He craned his neck, looking over his shoulder. “Cargo bay doors, life support systems and grav plating. That's about it.”

 

“Not the list I asked for.” Renji stepped back. “We're that bad?”

 

Ikkaku couldn't answer; there was a shriek from above and a metallic groaning echoed through the cargo bay. Both men turned, Ikkaku nearly tripping over Renji in his haste. “Ran!?”

 

When she didn't answer right away, Renji leapt forward, hands curling around the stair rail. Ikkaku was right behind him. “Answer me, Ran,” Renji shouted above the sounds of metal creaking. Ikkaku pushed past him when he stopped to peer through smoke. The catwalk - never the most stable part of the ship - seemed to sway precariously as Ikkaku jogged across it. Renji glanced down at the cargo bay floor, blanched, and stepped onto the catwalk. “Rangiku?”

 

“She's ok.”

 

Ikkaku's voice. Renji looked up to see him settle Rangiku against the railing. “Ran? What happened?”

 

She turned toward him, and smiled weakly. “Cargo bay doors are shot,” she offered with an apologetic shrug. “The control console blew out.”

 

Ikkaku whistled, looking down at the half-open doors. “Damn, Ran. You messed that up.”

 

She leaned over and smacked him on the back of the head. “You're the one who dove into an asteroid field.”

 

Ikkaku scooted out of her reach. “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

 

“No, never,” Renji answered distractedly. “You all right, Ran?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah. Just startled me. Nearly went off the catwalk.”

 

Renji was looking at the doors with a defeated expression. “It won't close?”

 

“Won't open any more than that either.”

 

Renji hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. Rangiku patted his shoulder, smiling all the while. “Hey, our rescuers are on their way.”

 

“They can't get here soon enough,” Renji groaned.

 

“Renji.”

 

“I don't want to hear it, Ikkaku.”

 

“No, seriously, Renji…”

 

Renji pinned Ikkaku with a murderous gaze. “Shut the hell up.” It was only after he'd spoken he noticed the truly alarmed look on the man's face. “What?”

 

Ikkaku crouched, pointing down towards the doors. “There's someone coming in.”

 

Renji's gaze snapped around to the bay doors while Rangiku crawled up beside him. The pilot was right; he could see a shadow slip underneath the half-open doors. Before long, another joined the first. “Ikkaku.”

 

“On it,” he answered, slipping quietly past his crewmates and slinking down the stairs without a sound.

 

Renji watched him for a second before facing Rangiku. “You have a stash up here?”

 

She gave him a withering look. “I have a stash everywhere, Renji.” She nodded past the burned out console. “There's a storage locker at the end of this catwalk. Three blasters.”

 

Renji rolled his eyes. “They're not blasters.”

 

“It sounds better that DEWs.” She curled her lip. “Dew is… pretty. Blasters shoot things. Dew glistens in morning sun.”

 

“Just lead the way.” Rangiku turned on her heel and, staying low, scuttled across the catwalk. Renji followed close behind, tracking movement as best he could just outside the doors. He could see a hand curl around the edge of one of the doors, and the muzzle of a rifle edged into the opening. “Hurry.”

 

Rangiku did, and, in her haste, knocked against the console. Her toolbox slid across the top and Rangiku dove for it.

 

Renji watched in mute horror as it slipped through her fingers and fell over the edge. The clatter as it hit the floor below seemed deafening. He met Rangiku's wide-eyed gaze and shooed her forward.

 

That's when the shooting started.

 

A blue stream of light cut through the topmost railing just behind Renji. Rangiku stopped and turned, looking past him. “I think they found us.”

 

“And I don't think they mean well,” Renji snapped. “Move!”

 

To her credit, she did. Not caring whether they saw her or not, she scrambled forward quickly, keeping as low as she could. When she reached the locker, she threw it open and reached inside with a haste that left her feeling clumsy. With one rifle in each hand, she turned to hand one off to Renji.

 

She turned in time to see him stumble. As he caught himself on the railing, he faltered.

 

It was just long enough for their intruders to draw a bead on him.

 

Harsh blue light hit him in the side and he froze, eyes wide. He pitched forward and Rangiku dropped the weapons as she dove toward him. Her hands caught the back of his shirt as he leaned precariously over the edge, and she pulled for all she was worth.

 

Shots hit the wall behind her, the floor near her feet, the heat from the energy burning her hair.

 

She held onto Renji with one hand, barely noting his tightly closed eyes and rigid posture, and reached behind her. Her hand brushed against the third rifle and she snagged it. Without aiming - almost without looking - she pointed the muzzle toward the doors and fired shot after shot.

 

Rangiku's hand fisted in Renji's shirt. “Hurry,” she urged Ikkaku. “Please hurry.”

 

~~~~~*

 

Ikkaku slipped through the corridors, heading toward the command deck and the console that housed Ran's modifications. The Lily was dark, darker than she should have been and Ikkaku frowned at the light fixtures overhead. They shouldn't be off; the Lily's environmental systems were set on a cyclical pattern, and she should still be in “day” mode. Ikkaku slowed his pace, looking ahead of him more intently. The environmental systems had not been damaged. The lights had been tampered with.

That more than likely meant there were more intruders on board than just those trying to come in the cargo bay; they could have slipped in through the starboard shuttle port or anyone of the small airlocks on the ship's exterior.

That theory was proved right on target when Ikkaku rounded a corner and was nearly mowed down by several blue bursts of light.

He backpedaled, arms pinwheeling, and managed to dive into an alcove to his left. With a loud curse - and not caring that whoever was out there might hear him - he pounded his fist against a panel. When it popped open, he practically tore it from the bulkhead.

Once upon a time, he almost thought Ran had gone overboard with her “stashes” throughout the ship. Rangiku was the definition of paranoid; when she'd come aboard, she had spent weeks adding and modifying systems, and stashing weapons throughout the Lily. Never mind he much preferred a good fist fight, but weapons did have their place, and their place was in his hands when the bad guys were shooting at him. He grinned as he pulled one of Ran's “blasters” from the hollowed-out space behind the panel. Bless the woman and her paranoid tendencies. He spun around, muzzle of the weapon peering around the corner, and almost laughed aloud. It had been too long… wait… he'd took out a few people at the bar.

Ok, so, it hadn't been too long since his last fight, but it had been too long since his last firefight.

Not that he particularly enjoyed weapons. Hand to hand was much nicer.

Renji would have his head if he skipped right past introductions, too, if only because it's what Shorty insisted upon. “What the hell do you want?” Ikkaku shouted down the hall. “Don't matter if you answer or not, I'm still gonna shoot ya'.”

Much better. Renji couldn't whine now.

And the shooting still didn't stop. Of course not. Ikkaku snorted; introducing oneself never, never prompted the other guy to just give up politely. With a grin - oh, he was loving this - he reached back into the hollow space and fished around for a moment. When he fingers brushed smooth metal, he pulled it out with a flourish. Ran-chan deserved something nice, he decided as he held up the smaller pistol. It didn't pack as much punch as the rifle, that was for sure, but Ikkaku wasn't about to dive into this with either hand empty.

With an almost manic howl, Ikkaku lunged into the hallway, both guns blazing. Damned if he were going to let some bastards with guns keep standing between him and the damn buttons he needed to push.

~~~~~~*

Rangiku kept shooting, not bothering to aim at all. She was crouched on the catwalk, Renji's head and shoulders resting awkwardly in her lap, and the muzzle of her DEW rifle was braced against the railing. It skittered back and forth with every one-handed shot, but Ran was not about to let go of Renji to brace it. All she was doing anyway was buying time until Ikkaku got to the command deck.

And she wanted her fingers pressed against Renji's neck. The reassurance of his pulse beating there was enough to keep her focused. Damn, damn and damn. They carried a variation of the DEW; one Rangiku knew well. Too well. She'd helped design it. She hated the irony, but appreciated that these guys knew a good weapon when they saw it.

Especially a good non-lethal weapon. Renji would be all right, given a few days. He'd just taken quite the shock.

That didn't mean, however, she was going to just roll over and play dead.

“Hurry up, you bald freak,” she muttered as she pulled back under an intense barrage. Her hands came up to cover her head and she winced against the smell of charred hair.

If these bastards made her have to cut her hair…

The muzzle of her DEW swung around and she fired off a few more rounds before checking the energy level. Low. Too low. She frowned; Ikkaku had better hurry. If she ran out of charge, it was one thing, but if the intruders did, it would ruin everything. The pulse she rigged depended upon the weapons having some energy left.

No sooner than she'd thought about it, a tell-tale low whine rang through cargo bay and Rangiku was dropping her weapon to the floor even as blue lights set into the bay walls flashed twice in quick succession. The whine reached a higher pitch and Rangiku, despite everything, grinned as she gathered Renji as close as she could. Her warning system was working perfectly; she'd would have loved the chance to test this, but hadn't had the opportunity as of yet.

She'd have to buy Ikkaku a round or three for being this quick.

She closed her eyes against the bright flash of light from the deck floor below her, and hunched protectively over Renji. Screams rose into the air, all cut short with a percussive blast as every directed energy weapon responded to the pulse. Rangiku waited for the noise to die, listening for any sign of an intruder escaping the blast. Slowly - and with a tinge of regret and concern - she let go of Renji and peered over the edge of the walkway.

Focused lateral explosions were a wonderful thing. Her Lily was also a beautiful, specifically modified ship. Thank God for paranoid bosses and degrees in engineering.

Every active DEW in the cargo bay had just exploded, thanks to pulse emitters she'd rigged throughout the ship for just such an occasion.

Almost every DEW in the cargo bay had been in the hands of an intruder.

Rangiku grimaced at the bodies that littered the bay floor; that was why she'd left weapons designing and went into cargo running. Some things, she supposed, were just unavoidable when idiots started shooting.

A blinking light caught her eye and she sighed as she reached for the `com on the wall. “Yeah?”

“You all right?”

Rangiku sighed at Ikkaku's question. She knew too well there were other concerns veiled behind his question: Renji, her, the ship... everything. “We're good,” she replied. “Renji's gonna be good.” A hint of a smile played at her lips; Renji would also be a pain in the ass once he woke up and discovered he'd missed all the action. “You?”

“Fine. Wasn't nearly enough fun.” He snorted. “Shorty's been tryin' to call. Message says it's urgent.”

Rangiku frowned. “Wonder if he knew something.”

“He'd have told us, wouldn't he?”

She shook her head, sighing. “Not if he just found something.” She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to look down at the half-open bay doors. This would be… tricky. “We have to move, Madarame, and reset the emitters.” Hell if they were going to be boarded again; she'd have traps set for anyone who set foot on this ship without her express permission.

“I'm already working on it, Ran.”

“Good man.” She sighed again. Good man, indeed. “Call Shorty. Tell him what's happening.”

“Working on that, too.”

“Oh.” It was all she could think to say. “Uh… help me get Renji off the catwalk?”

Ikkaku laughed at that, and she couldn't help but chuckle. He'd rub it in hard that Renji had to be carried from a fight. They'd be impossible to live with. But they'd be living. That was a start, at least.

 

Tbc…

 

Do let me know what you think, yes?