Bite At the Moon – Chap. 2

(Originally posted 7/28/2013.)

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The figures crouched, menacing, in the dark street. Orihime held her breath as one approached her hiding place. Then a shadow came, blacker than the night, wings fluttering like a colossal bat gliding over her, extinguishing the stars. Orihime cowered under the bush as the being landed gracefully before her; she looked up, terrified. Before her stood a creature such as she had never seen before: a man, tall and slender, with elfin features and a melancholy twist of mouth, his pale skin a shocking contrast with shaggy black hair. Her gaze was drawn first to his eyes: huge and brilliant green, almost like a cat's. Then, like a blow to the stomach, she realized the darker shadows hanging over him were two vast and overarching jointed wings soaring from his shoulders. This man had taken augmentation well beyond the wildest stories she had heard.

Underneath the bush, she trembled. She should be feeling horror and disgust. But instead, something stirred deep within her. She was curious. How was it possible for a human to fly? What did it feel like when those long, batlike wings beat the air, when they cupped the currents of the night beneath bone and sinew?

Orihime shook her head violently. How could she think such blasphemous thoughts? This was so far outside everything she had known, everything she had been taught. Everything she recited every week in catechism, when her building captain gathered them all together to recite the fundamental laws of their religion. Once again, her nostrils stung with the memory of the acrid odor of the generators in the basement, as they gathered together in the dim, low-ceilinged room, the smell of unwashed bodies overlaying the fumes.

The captain stood at one end of the long room, reading the well-worn chant from a small book, his hooked nose bobbing with the words.

"Your body is a sacred temple bequeathed to you by his Majesty the King. By virtue of his holy Asauchi is life vested within you."

The crowd murmured, "Let us give thanks to the King for our life."

"It is the King's decree that you shall never defile the purity of your bodies that are his gift."

Orihime's lips moved along with everyone else's. "We swear to never defile our bodies."

"In the name of the King, let us give thanks for his wisdom."

"It is right to give him thanks and praise."

In the cool night air, alone under the brilliant starshine, facing a creature of blasphemy, she hunched her shoulders and tried to make herself smaller in her hiding place, even though she knew it was in vain.

The figure spoke in an impossibly melodious but uninflected voice. "Woman, cease your pathetic attempts at concealment. Come forth and face me properly."

Slowly, Orihime moved out of the shadows to stand before him. There was a hissing from behind him, as one of the black-clad figures spat, "A healer!"

The man's inhumanly beautiful eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, lifted the bright neon badge from her chest. She shivered as his fingers brushed her. With a quick twist of his wrist, the cord holding it around her neck broke and he held it up, scanning it with his green gaze.

"What is one of the King's healers doing out alone and unguarded on the city streets at night?" he asked in an expressionless voice.

Orihime lifted her chin. "There was a sick child. I was needed."

"Have you humans degenerated so much so that you send unprotected young girls to risk their lives on the streets?"

She glared. "Normally, I'm in no danger. Most decent human beings see the badge and respect it."

"Hah!" From behind him, the other speaker emerged into view. A tall, muscular man with no visible augmentation, his hair gleamed an unlikely shade of blue, bright even in the moonlight. "But we're no 'decent human beings.'" His face split in a maniacal grin. He turned to the winged man, shifting position with inhuman grace, his black, skin-tight suit showing well-defined muscles along every limb. "Let's kill her and be done with it. Your orders stated very clearly, 'Kill anyone who interferes with your mission.'"

"No." The first man's voice was flat and final. "I make those decisions, Grimmjow. Know your place."

The blue-haired man scowled. "When I tell Lord Aizen how you wasted time dallying with a female instead of completing your assigned mission—"

"Silence." The command was toneless but the second man's mouth snapped shut as though it had been slammed. "Woman, you are to prove your usefulness to us. Are you familiar with the location of the building known as the Kurosaki Clinic?"

Orihime glared at him more fiercely. "I will never be useful to you." She closed her mouth firmly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"See?" mumbled the blue-haired man, his face twisting as though it was hard to get the words out. "She's worthless. We don't have time to take her with us or torture her for information. Just kill her."

"You might as well kill me," Orihime announced as her heart hammered against her crossed arms. "I'll never tell you anything."

The first man held up a pale, black-nailed hand in the direction of the other, and Grimmjow gasped and staggered backwards as though he had been shoved by a great force.

She stared at the two in disbelief, but stood her ground.

Approaching Orihime, the leader captured her eyes with his own and said, "You misunderstand. This is not a negotiation." He gestured with the badge he still held in his hand. "This states that you are a resident of building 15, not too far from here." He stepped closer, and she inhaled sharply and took a hesitant step backwards. "You have heard of the Arrancar, no doubt? Then you know that we have powers far beyond your own. We are not here to destroy your city, though we most certainly have the ability to do so."

Her eyes widened and she took another step backwards, bumping into the concrete wall behind her. He continued, "Know then, that if I but give the word, with one blast of destruction, your entire building will cease to exist."

Orihime's mouth dropped open in terror, and for a moment she couldn't speak. Then she found her voice. "No!" Her voice broke in an ungainly squeak. She swallowed and got her voice under control. "No, you can't do that. My friends— There are hundreds of people living there!" she cried.

"Then for you the choice should be clear. You hold in your hands the rope to the guillotine above your friends' necks. Understand, woman?" The man's face was completely neutral. He was truly a demon, just as the stories told. Someone who had been changed so far from his humanity that he had become soulless, no longer a living soul connected to the universe, but a machine, a being of unspeakable evil beneath that elegant exterior.

She breathed rapidly and shallowly, her eyes wide with horror. She was not afraid to die, but the thought that all her friends and neighbors were at risk, her best friend Tatsuki across the hall, the old lady who baked bread for their entire floor whenever she got the ingredients, the fierce Kenpachi and his newborn baby girl… for all of them to be snuffed out in an instant by this demon… It was unthinkable.

She caught her breath. "The Kurosaki Clinic is five blocks down that way." She gestured with her head. "But there is nothing there for you anymore. They've all left, and shut it down behind them." She took a defiant step forward. "There's no one there for you to hurt or kill."

"That is of no matter." The fingers of his right hand closed upon her arm. His touch was cool and surprisingly gentle, but she could feel the unyielding strength in his wiry fingers. "You will come with us and show us the way." It was not a question.

"Aw, come on, Ulquiorra!" muttered Grimmjow, but at a glance from his leader, he fell back, one hand on a weapon, guarding their flank as the group moved forward as a unit. She saw how they moved with military precision, like one of the Captain-Commander's own strike teams, and she filed away the information in the unlikely event she ever got free and could warn her people.

The man—or creature— was so close she could feel his warmth against her own body as they walked silently through the streets. Did soulless beings still retain warmth? Was there any humanity left in him? "What do you want with the Kurosaki Clinic? What is in an empty building that could possibly be of use to you?"

"Do not ask any questions. Do not say anything. You are to obey orders, or know the consequences."

Quailing under the weight of that cool, green-eyed stare, she shrank within herself and allowed him to lead her in silence. He strode rapidly and smoothly, effortlessly drawing her along with him. He moved with a curious gliding gait, his wings now so tightly folded she could no longer even see them, his black-clad legs setting a rapid pace. The others moved like silent shadows around them.

At a corner where two heaps of rubble lay, Orihime pointed at the dark, gaping doorway that had once been the entrance to the clinic, in the days when it was thriving. Ulquiorra nodded and gestured for his men to take up guard positions as he advanced, still holding her arm. By now her curiosity was almost overcoming her worry for her neighbors. What could the Arrancar possibly want in the clinic? There was nothing left. When the Kurosakis made their hasty departure, they had taken with them every last medication, ampoule, and device. When Orihime had last seen the clinic where so many lives had been saved, there were nothing but overturned beds and broken glass in room after room. Some of the bedding had been slashed and put to the torch, and great charred streaks marred the walls. She blinked back tears at the memory. She would not think about the goofy doctor who had poked kindly fun at her, nor his scowling orange-haired son, who had been her playmate when she was a tiny child.

They entered the battered and blackened entrance hall, their feet crunching on broken glass. Ulquiorra motioned for two of his men to guard their rear, and the rest walked forward in the pitch dark. Orihime gave a little squeal as the last of the moonlight from the street faded.

"I can't see a thing," she cried, waving her hand in front of her face. "What are you doing?"

The grip on her arm tightened. "We have the ability to see in the dark, unlike you useless humans," came the cool, uninflected answer. But shortly afterward, as they passed through a doorway into the inner reaches of the former hospital, a faint light gradually began to illuminate the scarred walls. Glancing fearfully at her companion, she saw that a pale blue panel had begun to glow at his waist.

Noticing her reaction, he explained, "You will be a poor guide if you cannot see. Now listen." He gave her arm a slight shake. "We are looking for a set of machines, most likely in the basement. Do you know how to get there?"

Orihime frowned. "Machines? I'm sure there aren't any here. It's forbidden to use machinery in healing." Behind her, she heard Grimmjow's derisive snort.

Ulquiorra said, "Nevertheless, we need to access the basement."

Putting one finger to her mouth, Orihime tilted her head. "Umm," she mused, staring off into space, "I remember there was a sign on a door that said 'Unauthorized Access Prohibited.'"

Ulquiorra nodded. "That sounds right. Take us there," he commanded.

The heavy metal door was now unmarked, but locked, and she felt a brief flare of satisfaction until he held a tiny device to the latch. It whirred and clicked, and then the door swung open. A set of steps yawned into the darkness below, along with a breath of chilly, acrid-smelling air.

They descended, and Orihime could not help noticing that the only footsteps she heard were her own, no matter how carefully she placed her feet on each metal tread. The others moved in preternatural silence, and she shivered.

At the bottom, Ulquiorra touched the panel at his waist and it glowed more brightly. They had entered a long, low-ceilinged room lined with rows and rows of file folders. At the very end of the chamber were several desks, and behind them five black metal racks taller than Orihime herself. Multicolored wires ran from one metal box to another within the racks, and flat gray ribbons connected them. She didn't say anything, but her nostrils flared. Nobody had known this was down here. If they had, the Kurosakis would not have been allowed to run their clinic for as long as they had.

Ulquiorra knelt at the side of one of the racks, where a thick gray cord emerged and snaked into a black box that appeared to be mounted against the wall. He tugged it loose, and pulled a small metal cube from inside his tunic, connecting it to the gray cord while Orihime watched in fascination.

"I don't know why you bother." She jumped at the loud voice near her ear. Grimmjow slouched against a wall. "They're sure to have wiped the drives."

Ulquiorra's voice was still expressionless, but Orihime almost fancied she heard a tinge of pride as he replied. "It is no matter. The information will have left traces, which I will find and reconstruct back home."

He busied himself at the racks, flipping a number of switches. To Orihime's surprise, the device began emitting a whooshing sound and several lights appeared. Ulquiorra seated himself at one of the desks and began rapidly pushing buttons on a plastic rectangle in front of him. She could not tear her eyes away from his long, elegant fingers playing rapidly and confidently over the button-studded panel. He wasn't even watching his own fingers, she realized after a moment. Glowing letters had appeared on the vertical panel in front of him, and he was studying them carefully. She inched closer, noticing that some of them were words, but none of them made any sense. He slid a slim black device partway into a slot in one of the machines, and pushed a few more buttons.

She waited, watching, her heart pounding, as he worked. Glancing around the room, she saw that all the others stood as still as statues. The one called Grimmjow was observing her with an insolent stare. She shivered and turned away, returning to watching Ulquiorra work. For a long while, the only sound in the musty, dim room was the quiet tapping of mechanical parts and the background hum. Orihime tried to breathe as shallowly as possible. She told herself she should not be interested in the machine, but her eyes kept straying to the glowing words appearing before Ulquiorra, casting a faint green reflection on his pale face.

Abruptly he stood, pushing back his chair. "That's it," he said. "We have what we need." The two small devices vanished into a hidden pocket in his tunic. "Let's go."

Orihime stepped back, brushing a hand across her hair. This was it, she thought. They had gotten what they needed, and now they would kill her. She firmed her lips. She had always known that death could come upon her at any moment; she had certainly seen it often enough. As a healer, her duty was to try to prevent it as much as possible. But in this case, all she would do was face it with dignity. And she would never give up, even at the end.

Her eyes met that brilliant green gaze without flinching. "Why don't you let me go?" she suggested. "I promise to say nothing. You hold the lives of my friends and neighbors as a surety that I will obey you."

Behind her, Grimmjow snorted again.

There was utterly no expression on Ulquiorra's face as he regarded her. Standing so close to him, looking at him head-on, she noticed that there were faint green traceries on his skin like emerald tearmarks under his eyes, and a curiously carved bit of what looked like white bone behind one of his ears. More augmentation, most likely. The white skin over the pulse at his throat flickered as he gazed at her dispassionately. She could even scent him from this distance, a faint, not unpleasing odor unlike anything she had encountered before, dry, like certain of the musky herbs she collected, not the sweet-scented ones but the more powerful, potentially deadly plants.

The ones that could kill.

But they could also grant life, if guided by the right knowledge.

Ulquiorra raised a hand, brushed it over her neck like the touch of a petal. She felt a slight sting, and frowned. Then the room tilted, and all went dark.

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A/N: Let me know if you'd like me to continue.