Thoughtful Infiltration [Open]

Within the misty dusk of Karakura District, the gentle winds blew and the silent sounds sung silent songs heard only by those willing to listen. The sun had begun it's descent on the town, red and purple clouds overhanging the world like a magnificent pastel painting of fluidic color and motion. The calming silence and darkening skies brought with it a crowd of singularity within the open confines of the city's roadways and rooftops, the dense population that filled the streets and buildings with sounds and noise having faded away with the quickly setting sun, guided away by the night's toll for quiet dinners to be spent with the family or simply a night of drinking for those less opt to take the wholesome route of enjoyment, but little did the slowly departing occupants know, there was another observer, a man who watched, middle aged and invisible to the eyes of all except the aware, clothed in the purest white and perched upon the rooftop of one of many skyscrapers, a single leg dangling over the edge, a contented gaze over-watching the bustling people with a sense of relaxation and peace that so few of his kin could ever hope to grasp for.

The man sat comfortably, his hand running through his hair and a deep inhalation of breath following, as if waking himself from a sense of sleepiness. His hand fell low before his chest, adjusting the white haori he wore, revealing the hole that rested in the place of his heart before he readjusted his position, freeing himself of a short bout of stiffness before settling in once again. His green hues continued to watch the crowds part and leave, the smallest trace of a smile reaching the smallest corner of his mouth. He envied the humans. They were completely ignorant of his existence, of his power, and of his position. If ever there was a race of beings blessed by the gods, the humans were it. They were beings able to live on, unknowing of the realities of the spiritual beings who existed both in there world, and in the worlds of Hueco Mundo and Soul Society. Yes, the humans were beings able to live short lives, but lives as they chose, free of interference from the worlds. At least, that was the ignorant way one could think of it. It tore him to watch on and realize that, these same humans died by the hands of his brothers, his sisters, and in the collateral aftermath of bouts between Hollow and Shinigami. Yes, that was the cold truth of it all, Karakura City, whether the residents realized it or not, was a deadly battlefield between the Hollow and the Shinigami, a war that the humans knew nothing of and had no reason to be a part of.

The stoic presence watched on still, his eyes scanning over the playground for a moment before averting itself to that of the setting sun and the clouds overhead. He envied the humans. They could live in both day and night, sun and moon, light and dark. It was a luxury for him to experience the sun, rarely could he ever dare to venture from the sands of Hueco Mundo. But today had been different, he had managed to steal himself away the sands of Hueco Mundo, away from the incessant howls of hollow and festering plans of invasion and tactics. Watchful eyes absorbed the sights in silent, the evening lights of the city slowly coming to light as the night sky began to envelop the earth itself. Night and day, humans had them, shinigami had them, why could the hollow not have them as well?

It was true, Marcus held a deep envy for the other races outside of his own race, and yet, he felt contempt towards his own, for it was the actions of the hollow that had forced them to be confined to Hueco Mundo itself. His mind lost itself in such thoughts, he wondered of his next steps as an individual. The Cero Espada was a monster, a woman who made deals with the devil and willingly took up the banner of evil process and eventual self-destruction. Such was the entity of the Espada as always, and such was the reason that he could only ever feel the necessity to fight against such forces, he loathed the lot of the hollow, and he as the former Legionnaire King could never let himself fall short of his goal to chance that of the hollow race. Change it, not in a way that would make them something else, but instead, force the entirety to recognize its worth beyond that of the stereotypical bloodthirsty monster, he wished for a world of peace, or rather, not just a world, but multiple worlds, a pity for him that his kingdom did not still stand, a pity that the Espada had gone about doing their best to stave off his attempts at pulling away other hollow and arrancar from their influence.

So, the question remained, what would he do now? For several years the demon wench has held her control over the hollow, what can he do to combat her? The obvious first would be to gather as much personal strength as possible, yet, such would never be enough. He required an army, a contract, a greater force that would submit all races and factions around him, not under the threat of death, but under the promise of change. Or rather, such would be the standard for many, the demons, the Espada, they would not be privy to such a feeling of mercy, they were the very effigies of pure and raw undisciplined power and destructive tendencies, they were nothing but destined from birth to destroy the all of everything around them. It is because of that very fact, that they would never be spared the blade, that very reason that his own beliefs of combating women would be overridden by his belief in the attempt to strive for only that which is proper, to live within a realm of reason, not hatred, nor infantile beliefs such as the notions of a perfect world, an ideal that so many fools on all sides seemed to think possible. No, a perfect world was not needed, but instead, a world under the protection of a group of individuals, a race nondescript and unimportant that would dictate the legitimate laws of the logical realm. Humans, Shinigami, Hollow, Demons, all required such a world to be able to live in any sense of "peace", and such would be the end he would strive for, if only his next step would decide itself, then the path upon which he must travel would light itself as the moon did that very night, a light in the darkness, such was his purpose, now if only others would follow that very light.

Red Font = NPC Adjuchas

Closed eyes hid the world away as the deepest thoughts continued to perk and poke at the mind of the ageless arrancar, his face and brows twitching at the thoughts themselves, his sense of self conspiring as to his next step, or rather, such would have been the case, were it not for his interruption in the smallest sense, the small echovibrative feelings of the presence of two nearby shinigami. Perhaps he would have been concerned if their discernable powers were near his own, but, from what he could surmise, their powers as individuals could not yet compare to his own current level within his imperfect state of being, so, the shinigami went unnoticed, his deeper thoughts taking control yet again, his mind transcending the basic notions of the world around him so as to envision that world which he sought so strongly to create, after all, to create the world he so desired, the envisioning of it was the ultimate necessity, for, it is without vision that his own goals would never be realized, for too many times in history had the greatest warriors found themselves subject to the cruelest of fates, all for the fact that their envisionment of their desires had been lost to wordly corruption.

But it seemed, the night would be one entirely made of interruptions, the twang of a sensation that was as foreboding as it was simply irritating. Why would seperate presences always seem to follow after him? The very notion of his lack of ability to remain solitary when he so wished it was quite the annoying feature of his life, just as annoying as it was to see the air across the way seem to crack and peel away from itself like warping glass, the earliest signs of a stressed Garganta making themselves noticeable in the world of the living. The man cloaked in the purest of whites, he rose from his seat along the rooftop, his white ring flashing against the moonlight as a casual hand sifted through his hair, a small sign of irritation to be recognized by those whom might have known Marcus for any known length of time, intense green eyes glaring upon the Garganta as it shattered into the world, puking upon the nightsky the shapes of two boasting beings whose wicked laughter filled the air with an evil melody that only served to worsen Marcus' very own imposition upon the human realm.

Hateful hues of green looked upon the two, they were hollow of evil design, Adjuchas in the most obvious of ways, their smaller frames and brutal reiatsu buffeting all around them but Marcus, the silent arrancar watching on in silence. Yet, it was not only Marcus that recognized extra party, but, it was also those very invaders that recognized the shape of the man standing atop the building across the way, both beasts glancing at the other with watering mouths, they could sense the power, but they could not control the urge to devour it, a simple fact that had sealed the fate of the two already. Both were hideos monster, one possessing the body of an ape but the face of a horse, the other looking like that of a warped insect with the tail of a lizard, both proving to look as monstrous beasts, both of which whose hearts were blacker than the sky that overshadowed them, their teeth gnashing as one screeched in a high-pitched voice of contempt.

"Look Hex! Dinner!"

In the typical realm of Hueco Mundo, such beings would go unnoticed and ignored, yet, such could not be done, not in a world and place where shinigami and humans hunted hollow relentlessly and when Marcus himself was attempting to hide himself away from the notice of anyone. But such notions quickly vanished as both hollow turned to him, orbs of pitch crimson glowing, ceros both meant to challenge and destroy him, a pathetic notion. Two waves of crimson hurtled towards the man in white, a slight scowl present as his right arm extended to the side at parallel with his shoulders, then, with an unseen arc, his hand slashed downwards, a blast of reiatsu flying from his arm to collide with both cero blasts, a dangerous Rasgar, a personal technique, collapsing both cero and pressing onward to consume on of the Adjuchas in a blast of bright hellish fire, the other left to rage of its own accord, the ape-like beast pouncing upon Marcus with swinging fists, each blow finding itself to collide against a forearm deflection or miss completely. So quick was each movement of Marcus, that the dip was unnoticed, until the monster's fist went flying overhead the now crouched and poised Marcus, the notice that the man had managed to completely escape the onslaught and instead take ready the position of attack, his own hand glowing a dim crimson as it shot forward, the cero blast prematture and rather weak on his personal scale, yet one well enough capable of killing the hollow before him, all from the waste up vaporized, whilst the lower-body fell stories upon stories ever downward, the reiryoku particles breaking apart in the death of the hollow.

An exaserbated sigh escaped Marcus as he straightened himself, his body now floating casually above the city roads, his footing perfect upon nothingness, making it seem as though he were standing upon some unseen earth. His face was scowled as his spiked reiatsu dimmed itself quickly, the "show" was far too loud in so many forms, no doubt, the presences of those whom he had noticed earlier would have now recognized his presence in Karakura City, he merely hoped that he had not alerted others from the Gotei as well, for, a mess it would be if any of the captains or higher ranking officers came to the call of an arrancar in Karakura, such a confrontation would be unnecessary. But, the inevitable would likely occur within moments from such a time, so, rather that run, he allowed himself to remain as he was, perched upon nothingness as he stood extended in the air, the casual wind blowing powerfully against his frame, fluttering about his sleeveless haori in the wind. He whispered upon that very wind, a personal invitation, for he could not be such a rude guest in the city of humans.

Vibrant displays, lights against the darkened sky, crimson residue of abrupt battle falling like a glowing snow from the sky, glittered like gleaming glass as they fell about the visage of the man whom stood in solitude, the presence of power and casual demeanor seemingly tearing him away from the realm of weaker mortals. The effigy of power stood alone amidst the after effects of an unecessary battle, cold eyes cast aside as though in a lack of acceptance for his lot in the life he was forced to live, detatched and alone in a world populated by the fancily engaged. What could a man whose sentance in life was to live in the darkness and casting shadows of those around him? His lot was power, a power that should ne'er existed, such was the life of a man known only as a Vasto in identity. How much he longed for the kingdom he had built so long ago, how much he longed for that place in which he belonged and existed in admiration, to live as a being willing to cast aside needless aggression, to live as a being capable of shining like the brightest candle in the ominous darkness of their existence. But now, now he stood in solitary self, mind left to wonder about the meaning of a king without a kingdom.

Green hues turned at the arrival of the effigy clad in black, a shinigami, a "God of Death", or so they called themselves. And how well he had chosen to live to that, a sword of black, eyes of question, and a stance of readiness, the so called guardians of the spiritual world. Yet, he could not disdain the man before him, he could not take up the sword as readily as the man before him, he was a man, not of hesitation, but of disbelief in the cause of war. Internal monologue and thought, such was his essence of self, to live in the chilling world of logics and moral ethics, a lonely world, that was his. But, such meetings, they were the moments of fleeting contact, the youth of the worlds, they were the future, the generations left to inherit that which their bloodthirsty and overly ambitious predecessors had raised and made so that those come anew would do nothing but continue along the path of self-destructive desire. Yet, one could not blame the generations of the new ages, but instead, instuct, the tone of a man worlds apart in essence gracing for the first moments in reply, cooling tones that spoke as the eldest of the human wisemen, words coming from the form of a man in his apparent thirties, yet eyes that shown more than two millenia of experience and knowledge of existence.

"Identity, it is a thing not to be questioned, but instead earned. Yet, what need is an identity when our names and beliefs change by the drop of a hat or the change of the seasons? In this, so follows the suit of our reasons."

His presence changed, the reiatsu he was once exuding dropping yet again to a level below that of the expectations, chilling gaze of a master among mice befalling the shinigami who had shown with courage enough to speak to a man he knew not as anything else but an enemy. He shifted, powerful frame turning to face the young man before him, wind catching dangerously at the haori he wore, stealing away control of the fringe so as to give short glimpse at the sight of a tattooed number whose identity was unreadable in the briefety of the moment, but a number nonetheless upon the chest of the arrancar who stood quietly in Karakura City with a cause untold and unrecognized by those around him. Eyes glancing to the blade of black, an ominous sight for those capable of being felled by the blade, its meaning nothing more than of that to kill, it was a shape and identity to be as loathed as Marcus loathed his own shape as a being of power.

"Request that which you do not first give and you demand that which never once belonged to you, follow suit Shinigami-san in your demands, and you may find the answer you desire, or instead, you may find that which was unexpected.

Or...does the racial difference of our hollow hearts and minds make you believe me enemy despite this circumstance?"

How would the child before him answer? So many possibilities among the youth there were, and such was the reason they could be envied and admired, comdemned and justified, diversified or closed. What would the possibilities yield? Would the youth strike out against the man who exuded no desire for conflict, or would he go about the route of logical reason and instead choose to speak? One could only hope, for, the sight of blood was such an ugly thing.

So, the shinigami had a semblence of intelligence so as to follow after general pleasantries. Granted, they did not come until provoked, but, the youth's actions and tone suggested the possibility of a conversation beyond that of the aetypical demands of the mindless rank and file of the Gotei, demands that often involved attempting to tell or force Marcus away from the human realm and back to the dreary sands of Las Noches. Yet, this one, this advantageous young man did no such thing, yet of course. Still, it showed the possibility of a potential beyond that of his typical warmongering kin, a fine show of character in the presence of a man whom had often surmissed that character was the only mattering factor in the world of morality and honor, otherwise, one would lose meaning, should they lose their character. In response, the seemingly impervious demeanor took a far more personable change, while not overly friendly, the intense look of analysis traded itself in for the better suited look of impassiveness that showed no real sense of heightened interest, but instead a passing appearance of contented self.

"Soka? Mayonaka-fuku taichou then? I think you've misunderstood that which is identity my young Mayonaka-kun. But, humored you will be nonetheless..."

While not conceding any sort of gain, Marcus' very tone came with a far more polite air to its self, though, not precisely in the realm of friendly, the demeanor certainly allowed itself to fall into that of personable, a curt yet existent nod of the head came to acknowledge both Mayonaka and his personal request for the name of the man whom he were meeting with, so, Marcus obliged the youth who had honored him with basic courtesies.

"Many have called me by various titles, yet few ever by my identity, though you may call me by that which is given, Victor shall suffice. Though, if you ask for a title, I fear I have none, none aside that which has long since passed and expired into nothingness."

Slowly, Marcus turned himself away, walking on the nothingness of air to return to the roof of the building upon which he had been perched not moments of go. And yet, while he had not ushered the young fuku-taichou to follow him with words, a brief glance over the shoulder and motion of the head certainly acted to beckon after the shinigami, a sign for him to leave his equally ambiguous position in the very sky itself. After all, prying eyes were often less than dubious in such circumstances, especially when such a circumstance was a conversation between that of a fuku-taichou of the Gotei 13 and a privaron of the Espada themselves. In that very concept, Marcus wondered of the eventual outcome that would pass. How would the youth react to it all, and what would he ask of the arrancar that was known as Marcus? Time would only tell.