The world was crawlin’ with them. Corrupted creatures festering in the far reaches of the shadows, blighting life as it was with their mere existence- just waiting for the opportunity to drag a fresh victim down into oblivion with them. Be it to rend tender fresh between jagged teeth, to possess a new meat suit or to tack ‘em up like macabre trophies in their dirt home, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez had just about seen it all.
And what was a bunch of maverick hunters supposed to do when they needed to get rid of that damned plague?
Or to at least keep it at a manageable enough level so as to avoid mass panic?
Disgruntled, Grimmjow spat to the side, not at all pleased with the latest group consensus. Sure, it was a long established rule that they had to operate in teams of two, and since his partner had gotten skewered during that last case... Grimmjow was left with the pleasure of gaining yet another sorry sack of shit as a partner. Che.
There were distinct murmurs as their ragtag council served up some newcomer for the slot. A surly, red-haired jackass with heavily ringed eyes.
“Gaara,” they said, while the rest of the teams of hunters looked on, curious. Some were grinning, clearly amused. “Got you a new ally, Grimmjow-- from today onwards, the both of you are partners. So play nice.”
Maybe he would play nice, but he couldn’t guarantee the same for the kid. Teenagers and that whiny rebellious phase-- did they have to lump him with someone whose balls had just dropped?
Alright, maybe there wasn’t a guarantee that Grimmjow would behave either.
