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tampered2007-06-12 01:58 am
sciencedaughter.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-06-12 01:58 am
Log; Complete
When; June 11th, evening
Rating; R (for... Mayuri, and assault on a female?)
Characters; Nemu {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sciencedaughter} & Mayuri {expertum}
Summary; Mayuri enters the City and meets his daughter again after quite the long seperation. Erm. Violence ensues.
Log;
Mayuri-sama was here.
He was here, she could feel his reiatsu as acutely as she could feel her own, as familiar as her own, because it was from him that she came, his creation, his finest experiment, and occasionally his daughter. Kurotsuchi Nemu, vice captain of the 12th, under Kurotsuchi Mayuri.
Her master’s name had never sent quite the shiver of fear up her spine that she felt now.
Her steps were just as quick as they always had been when responding to his side, her mind just as focused, she knew, and yet it seemed so much slower, so much more leaden. Her mind was racing even as it was working through murk, trying to formulate anything, something, to try and retaliate, resist, escape-
And it all came back to the same thing.
He was her captain. Her creator. Her father.
She couldn’t defy him, couldn’t resist him, couldn’t ever escape him. These facts were as intrinsic to her being as anything else, and she’d only been able t forget them in his absence.
And then her feet hit the concrete, her eyes caught him, and he was no longer absent. He was real.
She bowed quickly, demurely, submissively, his name murmured in greeting, in welcome, and in her offers of servitude, heart beating as if it would leave her breast.
Finally she appeared, his creation, his daughter. Worthless, imperfect, too much self-awareness. He would need to teach her respect all over again. How dare she claim fidelity, when he knew better? He knew exactly how she would react, what she would say.
After all, he was HER creator, her father, and the saying did say fathers knew best.
One slow step, then another. Closer and closer until he stood in front of her. A pause and then the back of his fist smashed into her jaw with astounding force, sending the creation to the ground. He waited a moment for her to roll before slamming his foot into her midsection.
“How DARE you.” He snarled, foot viciously stomping the air from her enhanced lungs.
She’d known it was coming, could feel the blow palpable in the air, in his steps, in the moment before he struck her.
Her body remembered the feeling of his fist, his anger, remembered it as it remembered how to breathe, to blink, to pump blood. She rolled as she always did, felt his foot connect to her gut with a bit-back cry and curling around it, hands clutching in reactions that even a body modified couldn’t resist doing.
“Ma-“ She took a shaky breath, trying to force air back from her lungs, trying to get back to her hands and knees, braid hanging limply and a small amount of blood staining her bottom lip as she tried not to remember how long it had been since she’d been hurt by him.
“Mayuri-sama.” She said simply, unable to meet his gaze, her eyes at his feet. “Forgive me.”
Her pleas didn't stop his vicious attack, if anything they urged him on, ending with him grinding his heel into her side in agonizing circles.
“So this is where you have been hiding all this time, is it? Didn't I tell you you're just a worthless... little... nothing?” He spat out, the last three words punctuated with a firm kick. “I gave you life, and this is how you repay me?” He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, lifting her to her feet before slamming her back into the nearby wall.
“How much time was wasted by your worthless little hope of escaping your place?” Mayuri reprimanded, shoving her head back again. “Do you understand the severity of your crime? Perhaps it's time for another lesson on your role?”
His grip grew tighter on the carefully grown strands of hair, threating to tear them out completely. Mayuri wouldn't have anyone looking down on him, much less one of his own creations. Nemu should have been grateful, worshipful even, that he allowed her worthless hide to remain intact after the many mistakes she had ever had. But he was a merciful man when he wished to be. He'd give her the chance to learn from her mistakes, granted she wasn't as idiotic as she looked.
She whimpered at his grip in her hair, tried and failed to suppress a cry when the back of her skull collided once, twice against the solid wall behind her, felt the sticky swell of blood matting to her thick black hair and shards of bone making minute fractures and cracks.
“I-” Nemu knew what she wanted to say. I didn’t mean to leave you, Mayuri-sama. She hissed in breath. I didn’t mean to come here, Mayuri-sama. Her eyes rolled up into her head, dilating as she tried in vain to focus them. I didn’t mean to stay here, Mayuri-sama. Her hands almost, almost scrabbled at his wrist, gripped him tightly, but they fell away, a kicked dog remembering its master’s heel.
Worst of all? I’d hoped you wouldn’t come here, Mayuri-sama.
And yet the only thing that could enter her head, come out of a mouth stained red and tasting of copper and thick coughs, was “I’m sorry, Mayuri-sama.” Again, again, as many times as he wanted, that apology, subservience she provided without fail, and, until now, until this City, without question.
Her apologies barely made up for the insult she had done, that she was, in his eyes, but he let her go, letting the body he created slide to the floor in a heap. He watched her as she did, before spitting out.
“Get up. I made you, I know what you can and cannot take, so don't think you can fool me.” He demanded, taking a step back. He itched to grind her subservience further into her bones, but he rationalized that he couldn't until she told him everything that she new.
“Now, just where are we and what have we to work with then?”
She struggled obediently to her feet, made small hands, one stiff and hard to move, brace against the wall behind her that bore faint traces of her blood, long legs trembling once, twice, before she stilled them, gaze falling at his collar, never looking him in the eyes, as was befitting… of her place.
“The City.” The creation’s voice was soft, demure, and as steady as she could make it, longing to clear the blood from her mouth but unable to do so, leaning lightly against the wall.
“A dimension separate from our own and connected to many others, where residents from all worlds are gathered.” Her bones ached, cracked, burned. “Ruled by four deity like figures.” Her short nails dug into the wall, breathed shallow to ease the fire in her ribs. “Plagued every few days by curses that affect random members of the population in order to create negative emotion used to fuel a doomsday clock.” The summary was rattled off by heart, cringing and hoping he would believe her, knowing how frivolous and untrue it seemed.
Mayuri listened to the tall tale his creation wove for him, his first reaction to demand the truth from her, but he was a man of reason. Even though her story was completely far fetched and unbelievable, he could play along. Indeed, this was not the Soul society, the reiatsu was abnormally low, even for the human realm. The concepts of curses was obviously a lie, but that tidbit of information was forgotten for one thing. Given the information, there was the prospects of new subjects, new experiments, and best of all, the Quincy was here.
“Saaaaa.” He exhaled, standing straight, a grin on his face, “I hope that you weren't completely useless and took the time to collect some excellent specimens then?” Excitement creeped into his tone at the thought.
No, I haven’t. Was almost what she said. But that was a lie. Kurotsuchi Nemu did not lie. Had only lied in her life once, twice. That is, had only lied of her own volition that many times. She could not count how many times she had turned away another division’s representative asking the wherabout’s of a shinigami with “I am unsure” instead of “he is in surgery at the moment.”
“… I have many notes you may find of interest, Mayuri-sama.” Nemu felt the doom creep over her, breath wispy, light, and strained.
She knew what was in those notes. Rangiku’s doom. The Quincy’s. Arrancar’s. Hinamori’s.
Even her own.
And though she wanted to hide them, wanted to keep them away from him because they were all far too thorough, anything she’d ever learned about anyone of interest kept and written, she couldn’t. She couldn’t keep them from him, even knowing that they spelled out not only her own punishments, but others’ as well.
“Good, good, you will hand me those notes immediately then.” Mayuri commanded, tone leaving no room for argument. If Nemu hadn't become completely useless, the notes would give him a good idea where to start. His grin widened at the prospect, at least he would have an idea where to start gathering his first test subject. Preferable one which would hit the Quincy where it hurt.
Mayuri paused for a moment, thinking of the girl he never got his hands on. Her too. And the Arrancar were most definitely on the top of his list. He'd tear and slice them apart, only to put them back together. Ahhh, what bliss it would be to discover what made an arrancar tick, and no one would, or could, say anything against it. But he would need a proper laboratory, one far away from civilization so that the screams wouldn't be heard.
“Nemu, you will pass the notes off to me then find a proper... resident for us to begin out research then. I expect it to be done swiftly, and if you have the chance, bring a proper... test subject.” He ordered, standing in front of his creation. He wouldn't take no for an answer either.
She listened, obedient, suitably cowed, head bowed and shoulders rigid. … She could find a suitably interesting lowlife, someone… cruel. Someone like him in personality and yet weaker, someone no one would miss. A laboratory… she could find a suitable location, requisition a lab, an appropriate area… the creation cringed again at the mention of her notes, sending sparks of pain up her ribs and the back of her skull.
“My notes are in my residence, Mayuri-sama.” No one ever came there. It was all her, her taste, barren and simplistic as it was, her possessions… possessions she had never before had, and a small hidden corner under the bookshelf that housed her few precious things. … And her zanpakutou. She assumed he would take it- take her- away again.
Bile rose in her throat.
“I will take you there, and then leave you to them while I reconnoiter a laboratory space for you.”
Mayuri grinned as she obeyed his command as she was meant to be. He waited for her to lead the way, like a good servant did for her master.
“Try to make it female, hmm? I believe that I have no taste for a male subject today, of course, unless you managed to lure that Arrancar or the Quincy along?” He hissed, the glimmer of insanity on his face. “Well what are you waiting for, get started, you fool.”
“I will make it female, Mayuri-sama.” And she would, because he asked it of her. At the mention of Ishida Uryu and Ulquiorra, however, she only just barely managed to keep her face blank and emotionless as she turned to lead the way to her apartment, limping lightly but trying to minimize the obvious weakness.
What she wished to say died again on a split lip. I do not know what you mean by that statement, Mayuri-sama. That was a downright lie. The Quincy has no desire to associate with me and I have no sway over any Arrancar. Not a lie, but still… defiant. Unwanted.
“… My apologies, Mayuri-sama.” She managed, keeping her eyes on the ground as she led her creator back to the every piece of knowledge she’d ever known in this City, back to trouble for more than just she.
It was just that she would feel the pain of it in the morning. The others would have some time.
Rating; R (for... Mayuri, and assault on a female?)
Characters; Nemu {
sciencedaughter} & Mayuri {expertum}Summary; Mayuri enters the City and meets his daughter again after quite the long seperation. Erm. Violence ensues.
Log;
Mayuri-sama was here.
He was here, she could feel his reiatsu as acutely as she could feel her own, as familiar as her own, because it was from him that she came, his creation, his finest experiment, and occasionally his daughter. Kurotsuchi Nemu, vice captain of the 12th, under Kurotsuchi Mayuri.
Her master’s name had never sent quite the shiver of fear up her spine that she felt now.
Her steps were just as quick as they always had been when responding to his side, her mind just as focused, she knew, and yet it seemed so much slower, so much more leaden. Her mind was racing even as it was working through murk, trying to formulate anything, something, to try and retaliate, resist, escape-
And it all came back to the same thing.
He was her captain. Her creator. Her father.
She couldn’t defy him, couldn’t resist him, couldn’t ever escape him. These facts were as intrinsic to her being as anything else, and she’d only been able t forget them in his absence.
And then her feet hit the concrete, her eyes caught him, and he was no longer absent. He was real.
She bowed quickly, demurely, submissively, his name murmured in greeting, in welcome, and in her offers of servitude, heart beating as if it would leave her breast.
Finally she appeared, his creation, his daughter. Worthless, imperfect, too much self-awareness. He would need to teach her respect all over again. How dare she claim fidelity, when he knew better? He knew exactly how she would react, what she would say.
After all, he was HER creator, her father, and the saying did say fathers knew best.
One slow step, then another. Closer and closer until he stood in front of her. A pause and then the back of his fist smashed into her jaw with astounding force, sending the creation to the ground. He waited a moment for her to roll before slamming his foot into her midsection.
“How DARE you.” He snarled, foot viciously stomping the air from her enhanced lungs.
She’d known it was coming, could feel the blow palpable in the air, in his steps, in the moment before he struck her.
Her body remembered the feeling of his fist, his anger, remembered it as it remembered how to breathe, to blink, to pump blood. She rolled as she always did, felt his foot connect to her gut with a bit-back cry and curling around it, hands clutching in reactions that even a body modified couldn’t resist doing.
“Ma-“ She took a shaky breath, trying to force air back from her lungs, trying to get back to her hands and knees, braid hanging limply and a small amount of blood staining her bottom lip as she tried not to remember how long it had been since she’d been hurt by him.
“Mayuri-sama.” She said simply, unable to meet his gaze, her eyes at his feet. “Forgive me.”
Her pleas didn't stop his vicious attack, if anything they urged him on, ending with him grinding his heel into her side in agonizing circles.
“So this is where you have been hiding all this time, is it? Didn't I tell you you're just a worthless... little... nothing?” He spat out, the last three words punctuated with a firm kick. “I gave you life, and this is how you repay me?” He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, lifting her to her feet before slamming her back into the nearby wall.
“How much time was wasted by your worthless little hope of escaping your place?” Mayuri reprimanded, shoving her head back again. “Do you understand the severity of your crime? Perhaps it's time for another lesson on your role?”
His grip grew tighter on the carefully grown strands of hair, threating to tear them out completely. Mayuri wouldn't have anyone looking down on him, much less one of his own creations. Nemu should have been grateful, worshipful even, that he allowed her worthless hide to remain intact after the many mistakes she had ever had. But he was a merciful man when he wished to be. He'd give her the chance to learn from her mistakes, granted she wasn't as idiotic as she looked.
She whimpered at his grip in her hair, tried and failed to suppress a cry when the back of her skull collided once, twice against the solid wall behind her, felt the sticky swell of blood matting to her thick black hair and shards of bone making minute fractures and cracks.
“I-” Nemu knew what she wanted to say. I didn’t mean to leave you, Mayuri-sama. She hissed in breath. I didn’t mean to come here, Mayuri-sama. Her eyes rolled up into her head, dilating as she tried in vain to focus them. I didn’t mean to stay here, Mayuri-sama. Her hands almost, almost scrabbled at his wrist, gripped him tightly, but they fell away, a kicked dog remembering its master’s heel.
Worst of all? I’d hoped you wouldn’t come here, Mayuri-sama.
And yet the only thing that could enter her head, come out of a mouth stained red and tasting of copper and thick coughs, was “I’m sorry, Mayuri-sama.” Again, again, as many times as he wanted, that apology, subservience she provided without fail, and, until now, until this City, without question.
Her apologies barely made up for the insult she had done, that she was, in his eyes, but he let her go, letting the body he created slide to the floor in a heap. He watched her as she did, before spitting out.
“Get up. I made you, I know what you can and cannot take, so don't think you can fool me.” He demanded, taking a step back. He itched to grind her subservience further into her bones, but he rationalized that he couldn't until she told him everything that she new.
“Now, just where are we and what have we to work with then?”
She struggled obediently to her feet, made small hands, one stiff and hard to move, brace against the wall behind her that bore faint traces of her blood, long legs trembling once, twice, before she stilled them, gaze falling at his collar, never looking him in the eyes, as was befitting… of her place.
“The City.” The creation’s voice was soft, demure, and as steady as she could make it, longing to clear the blood from her mouth but unable to do so, leaning lightly against the wall.
“A dimension separate from our own and connected to many others, where residents from all worlds are gathered.” Her bones ached, cracked, burned. “Ruled by four deity like figures.” Her short nails dug into the wall, breathed shallow to ease the fire in her ribs. “Plagued every few days by curses that affect random members of the population in order to create negative emotion used to fuel a doomsday clock.” The summary was rattled off by heart, cringing and hoping he would believe her, knowing how frivolous and untrue it seemed.
Mayuri listened to the tall tale his creation wove for him, his first reaction to demand the truth from her, but he was a man of reason. Even though her story was completely far fetched and unbelievable, he could play along. Indeed, this was not the Soul society, the reiatsu was abnormally low, even for the human realm. The concepts of curses was obviously a lie, but that tidbit of information was forgotten for one thing. Given the information, there was the prospects of new subjects, new experiments, and best of all, the Quincy was here.
“Saaaaa.” He exhaled, standing straight, a grin on his face, “I hope that you weren't completely useless and took the time to collect some excellent specimens then?” Excitement creeped into his tone at the thought.
No, I haven’t. Was almost what she said. But that was a lie. Kurotsuchi Nemu did not lie. Had only lied in her life once, twice. That is, had only lied of her own volition that many times. She could not count how many times she had turned away another division’s representative asking the wherabout’s of a shinigami with “I am unsure” instead of “he is in surgery at the moment.”
“… I have many notes you may find of interest, Mayuri-sama.” Nemu felt the doom creep over her, breath wispy, light, and strained.
She knew what was in those notes. Rangiku’s doom. The Quincy’s. Arrancar’s. Hinamori’s.
Even her own.
And though she wanted to hide them, wanted to keep them away from him because they were all far too thorough, anything she’d ever learned about anyone of interest kept and written, she couldn’t. She couldn’t keep them from him, even knowing that they spelled out not only her own punishments, but others’ as well.
“Good, good, you will hand me those notes immediately then.” Mayuri commanded, tone leaving no room for argument. If Nemu hadn't become completely useless, the notes would give him a good idea where to start. His grin widened at the prospect, at least he would have an idea where to start gathering his first test subject. Preferable one which would hit the Quincy where it hurt.
Mayuri paused for a moment, thinking of the girl he never got his hands on. Her too. And the Arrancar were most definitely on the top of his list. He'd tear and slice them apart, only to put them back together. Ahhh, what bliss it would be to discover what made an arrancar tick, and no one would, or could, say anything against it. But he would need a proper laboratory, one far away from civilization so that the screams wouldn't be heard.
“Nemu, you will pass the notes off to me then find a proper... resident for us to begin out research then. I expect it to be done swiftly, and if you have the chance, bring a proper... test subject.” He ordered, standing in front of his creation. He wouldn't take no for an answer either.
She listened, obedient, suitably cowed, head bowed and shoulders rigid. … She could find a suitably interesting lowlife, someone… cruel. Someone like him in personality and yet weaker, someone no one would miss. A laboratory… she could find a suitable location, requisition a lab, an appropriate area… the creation cringed again at the mention of her notes, sending sparks of pain up her ribs and the back of her skull.
“My notes are in my residence, Mayuri-sama.” No one ever came there. It was all her, her taste, barren and simplistic as it was, her possessions… possessions she had never before had, and a small hidden corner under the bookshelf that housed her few precious things. … And her zanpakutou. She assumed he would take it- take her- away again.
Bile rose in her throat.
“I will take you there, and then leave you to them while I reconnoiter a laboratory space for you.”
Mayuri grinned as she obeyed his command as she was meant to be. He waited for her to lead the way, like a good servant did for her master.
“Try to make it female, hmm? I believe that I have no taste for a male subject today, of course, unless you managed to lure that Arrancar or the Quincy along?” He hissed, the glimmer of insanity on his face. “Well what are you waiting for, get started, you fool.”
“I will make it female, Mayuri-sama.” And she would, because he asked it of her. At the mention of Ishida Uryu and Ulquiorra, however, she only just barely managed to keep her face blank and emotionless as she turned to lead the way to her apartment, limping lightly but trying to minimize the obvious weakness.
What she wished to say died again on a split lip. I do not know what you mean by that statement, Mayuri-sama. That was a downright lie. The Quincy has no desire to associate with me and I have no sway over any Arrancar. Not a lie, but still… defiant. Unwanted.
“… My apologies, Mayuri-sama.” She managed, keeping her eyes on the ground as she led her creator back to the every piece of knowledge she’d ever known in this City, back to trouble for more than just she.
It was just that she would feel the pain of it in the morning. The others would have some time.
no subject
no subject
mun things Mayuri should be more worried about a certain arrancar.no subject
no subject