capeandcowllogs | Like causes without rebels

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Like causes without rebels

WHO: Grimmjow (

martialartistic )
WHERE: The club ( El Calabazo ) after work hours
WHEN: Sunday
WARNINGS: Violence, plus both Grimmjow's, and Melee's moblile swear word zone
SUMMARY: Grimmjow is intrigued by Melee's mutant power, and wants to see if she's really that badass.
FORMAT: Quick.

[ Grimmjow jogged down the steps that led to both the backdoor of the club, as well as up into the loft apartment he shared with Ggio. Keys in hand, he unlocked the metal security door ( 'security' ha! ) and leaned in the door frame, instead. Being from a desert climate before coming to the City, Grimmjow is not keen on this 'winter' business.
But he was keen on checking out this chick. 'Melee' - and yes, he knew enough English to get the name - wasn't like most of the women he'd talked to, or seen at the club most nights. For one, she behaved as if she might have a brain in there. And two, she also talked pretty big.
But, hey. If she thought she could go toe to toe with the Sexta Espada, then Grimmjow was willing to let her have a try.

At 6'1", and 176 pounds, with electric blue hair, cat-like eyes, and the remnant of his hollow mask attached to his jaw, Grimmjow knew he looked imposing. He rather like it, too. But today he'd opted out of wearing his old Espada uniform, and instead gone with a fitted white tee shirt, and the same loose-fitting pants that he slept in - for what little he actually did sleep. Bare feet, his hollow hole covered, and his one concession to vanity; a silver chain around his neck, made him look surprisingly human. He smirked at the thought of Melee thinking he was human-strong, human-fast, or most important; only human-durable.
Well. She would find out quick, wouldn't she? ]

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[ By comparison, Melee didn't look half as impressive, not at first glance. She was a small Latina, several inches shorter than Grimmjow and at least forty pounds lighter. Even her boyish way of dressing -- combat boots, loose sweatpants, wifebeater under her jacket -- didn't compensate much for her size. But on second glance, Melee was nothing but wiry muscle, compact and hardened by hours on hours on hours of training.

Her powers didn't include super strength or super speed. She wasn't invulnerable. She bruised just as easy as any other human being. But her vigorous, vicious training made her an example of peak human form. Couple that with her mastery of all martial arts, and it was easier to see why she was so sure of herself.

She approached the club's backdoor, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, a little something in her step that might have been confidence. Spotting Grimmjow, Melee gave a short casual wave. ]

Hey, hermano.

Buenas tardes, chica.

[ Uncrossing his arms, he shoved the storm door open for her. Not so much out of politeness, as an odd means of inviting a strange person into 'his territory' as it were. Though he didn't talk about it much, it's a very short list of people Grimmjow even lets get near the loft. ]

Take the right steps - the ones goin' down. Club don't open for another couple hours, so the dance floor doubles as my personal practice arena.

[ She might not be aware that few people are allowed there, but she's been in enough dojos that she's learned to respect the place where another person trains. Melee takes the stairs, glances around a little curiously at the empty club. ]

Huh. Nice place.

[ Absently, she pops her knuckles. They're taped, along with her wrists. ]

You ain't worried something's gonna get broken?

[ Grimmjow pushes past her a little more, and glances back just before taking the last set of stairs. ]

Ya break my stage, and ya buy it, querida.

[ The floor, despite being below street level, is extremely spacious. Staying away from the stage is easy, and the DJ booth is both elevated, and fitted with plexiglass windows.
With the house lights turned on, the floor is nicely lit, and the acoustics are good enough that one can be anywhere in the room, and only need speak softly to be heard.

The floor has been swept, and there's plenty of room. Grimmjow pauses near the middle of the floor, and turns to look at Melee with his arms crossed. ]

But I don't think the stage is what ya gotta worry about breakin' right now.

[ Melee lets out a little entertained breath. ]

Lucky for me, I don't break fuckin' easy.

[ She shrugs off her jacket, tosses it aside. Toes off her shoes before walking towards the center of the floor. She gives her shoulders a little roll, stretches her arms out. ]

So. We gonna fight or what, princesita?

[ Grinning, and not moving a muscle. ]

If you're done primping, then come on.

[ And though he won't admit it, he wants Melee to take the offensive first. No sense ripping her head off in under a minute by mistake, right? ]

[ She quirks a wry little lopsided smile. But it drops off her face quick. The second she sinks into a combat position, her body language changes entirely. There's no ghetto swagger, no tough girl strut. Her face is strong and serious. ]

Vamos a hacerlo.

[ She's aggressive -- she has no problem making the first move. Two, three quick long strides closer, pivoting on one foot to turn her body into a momentum-building spin before she rotates and extends into a high tornado kick. ]

[ Grimmjow is not human. Even among the arrancar, he was one of the best of the best. Melee is good, and though it's a little misogynist of an opinion, Grimmjow recognizes that she's very good. Especially 'for a girl'.

But his reflexes have been honed sharp, and though he didn't move at all through those first two steps, his hand was just suddenly up, and grabbing a hold of Melee's ankle before it could connect. His hierro ( literally 'iron skin' ) likely enhancing the odd feeling of kicking against a metal pole. ]

Ya ain't afraid'a goin' for the throat right off the bat. I like that in a woman.

[ It's jarring -- there's no denying that. No matter how strong you are, kicking full force and meeting a hard, solid stop like that always hurts through your bones. It shows on her face, but only barely. Gritted teeth, a hiss of breath.

She doesn't hesitate long though. Twisting at the hips, eh tries to jerk her leg from his grip and swing an elbow at his face simultaneously, pivoting on the one foot she has free. ]

Yeah? [ She bares her teeth. It might be a smile -- it might be a threat. ] Wouldn't wanna waste your time.

[ Gutsy move, that. It sacrifices equilibrium for power, and the the opportunity to land another hit. Blue eyes widen briefly, surprised again that Melee would try it. But he releases her ankle in favor of leaning back hard to keep from being elbowed right in the mask fragment. As tough as the bony attachment to his jawline is, it still is none too comfortable to be hit. ]

Damn, woman.

[ Stepping back once, Grimmjow doesn't actually throw a punch - at least not yet - but does sharply extend his arm for a palm strike to Melee's solar plexis. The intention is to push her back without hitting her too hard. Though, truth be told, Grimmjow is pretty bad at "taking it easy". ]

Fuck, what I wouldn't give ta see ya with a sword.

[ It definitely hurts, making contact like that -- but her adrenaline's pumping thick in her blood, and even if she'll feel it for days after, she sure as hell doesn't give a damn about that now. What's worse is the loss of balance, the way it makes her stagger a half-step when he lets go of her and hits her in the solar plexus. She actually winces, feels the wind get knocked right out of her lungs. Ouch.

She backs off a little to catch her breath, but her fists stay up, her knees just slightly bent as she circles around. Her words are just a little airless when she answers: ]

When I said mastery of all martial arts, I meant all of 'em. You wanna put a weapon in my hand, you go right a-fuckin'-head.

[ Grimmjow grins, and though he turns in tandem, he doesn't take a defensive stance. ]

Not a bad idea. That way I ain't gotta worry so much about breakin' ya on accident.

[ Holding up one finger, he winks. ]

Don't move, chica.

[ And with a burst of sound like a static hiss, he literally blurs out of sight. It might look like teleporting, but it's actually a technique most arrancar can use called Sonido ( echo-step). He's not teleporting, he's just moving in short bursts so fast that the human ( and inhuman ) eye can't follow him.

Within a handful of seconds, he's back, though. Along with a live steel practice sword in one hand, and his sword, Pantera - still safely in it's saya - in the other.
Casually, Grimmjow tosses the plain steel at Melee. It's a nicely made sword; the shinogi (ridgeline) runs just short of the tip by a few millimeters. This configuration results in a blade-like tip for cutting. It's heavy, though, with the tang being the full width of the blade.

However, instead of drawing Pantera, Grimmjow just keeps walking, and sets his sword down on the edge of the stage. In another quick blur of Sonido, he's close, again, and even giving Melee his back with only a glance over his shoulder at her. ]

Don't disappoint me, ne?

[ She stays put like she's told, watching curiously. Yeah, he's something else alright -- every time she thinks she's starting to get an idea of what his powers are like, he pulls another one out of the bag. Good thing she likes tough odds.

Melee snatches the sword out of the air with ease. She's handled a blade before, she's comfortable with it. But the one thing her teacher, Taskmaster, always told her was that there was a difference between knowing and knowing. She knew all the moves, inside and out, but there were places she lacked the experience to fully unlock her own potential. This might prove to be one of them.

She gives the blade an experimental swing, testing the weight. It's heavy. Might slow her down, but it's powerful. And anyway, him turning his back on her is an outright challenge. Melee lets out an exhale that's almost annoyed. She doesn't respond -- instead, without warning, she lunges, building momentum from her hips to swing the heavy blade in a sharp, quick arc towards him. ]

[ Grimmjow ordinarily would never go up against a human. Not even an advanced 'mutant' human. He wasn't interested in any fight where he knew the strength difference wasn't even comparable. Winning without effort wasn't any fun, was it?

But Melee was just too intriguing. Granted, she didn't know what she was in for when she talked big, but she wasn't afraid, and didn't once back down even after she'd started to figure out he could kill her with absolute ease.
Even knowing all of that...she still took the offensive, and came at him. Grimmjow rather liked fearlessness. Even though she wasn't on his same level, he still couldn't help respecting that in her, and wanting to see how far he could push it.

Case and point? A swift blur of movement, and Grimmjow's forearm blocking the cutting edge of the sword. Then a single half-step, and his opposing hand raising to slap the blade away. No doubt Melee could see that she'd hit him with a blow that should have removed his hand, and yet his skin wasn't even nicked. ]

Ha! Ya weren't kiddin'! Come on, try, and hit me again.

[ It was true -- she had a stubborn streak ten miles wide and no sense of self-preservation. She was only twenty-one, still believed in her own invincibility.

Still, she was visibly surprised that even with the full force of that heavy sword, she hadn't even broken skin. He'd slapped that blade away like a toy. She had to grudgingly respect that -- obviously, he was stronger than she was -- but there was that fiery spirit in her that was frustrated too. Melee was a sore loser.

She shifted her grip on the handle of the sword, baring her teeth at his egging her on. With a decidedly unfeminine growl, Melee lunged again, giving that sword a full swing like she meant to take a limb off. ]

[ No such luck, dear. His skin is so dense that he can ( and has ) literally bare-handed blocked more than one sword.

And here he does the same thing. Seeing Melee get angrier is just making this more fun, so Grimmjow purposefully turns side on, and uses only one forearm to parry, and block. With normal, everyday steel, there's actual sparks coming off his wrist.
His sword - or any zanpakutou - is capable of cutting him. But, even then, the wielder of said zanpakutou must also have a comparable, or greater level of spiritual energy to have a prayer of winning.

Ordinarily, Grimmjow wouldn't bother with showing this much restraint, either. He's not taking any kind of offensive moves toward Melee, preferring instead to see how far he could push her before she snapped. And then? How well she fought when truly pissed off. ]

[ The more frustrated she got, the harder the blows came -- she got that way, when she felt like she had something to prove. She wasn't testing the waters anymore. Somewhere along the line, it had stopped being just for fun. Her temper was getting the best of her.

The next blows came in a flurry, quick and angry, a forward charge of repeated strikes -- all futile, maybe, because after all, she was only human. Already, she could feel the burn of her muscles getting tired, from the weight of the blade and the forced repetition of her attacks. ]

[ Grimmjow keeps it up with little effort. Of course, this is getting boring pretty quick, so on another flurry of strikes - which seem to be getting a little sloppy now that Melee was getting angry - he grabs the blade, and yanks it forward.

The plan is to disarm her, but if she ends up falling against his chest, then all the better. ]

[ It's his effortlessness that's frustrating to her. It makes her think less with her head and more with her temper -- and that's when the technique starts to slip. It's her weakness really, her humanity aside. The knowledge is there, the mastery always will be, but when Melee stops using it, she leaves herself wide open.

Her grip is still fiercely tight on that handle when Grimmjow jerks the sword forward, but while she manages to hang on, she can't keep her balance -- and she stumbles forward, crashing into him. ]

Gettin' mad can work for ya, girl. Gettin' sloppy, not so much.

[ Fortunately, he's not being as much of a smug bastard at the moment. More a statement of fact. ]

Ya got fire in ya, and I like that. But it's over, chica.

[ Of course, he still wrenches the blade to the side, meaning to twist it out of her grip. ]

[ She lets go of the blade, lets him pull it from her grasp. She knows it's over, there's no point in denying that he's right -- but that sure as hell doesn't mean she has to look pleased about it.

Melee just gives him a little shove, then crosses her arms over her chest, prideful. ]

Yeah, a'ight. [ Grudgingly: ] You're stronger. Fine.

[ Canting his head to the side, that smug grin is starting to creep back onto his features. ]

And ya don't like ta lose.

[ Chucking the sword away, he pretty well ignores it clattering against the floor. Instead, he walks by Melee, and gathers up Pantera. Then, with his sword propped over his shoulder, start back toward the stairs. ]

So tell me more 'bout this 'mutant' thing. How do ya get stronger, anyway?

[ It's true. Girl's a sore loser. She acknowledges that with a little scoffing exhale. ]

How do I get stronger? [ She picks up her jacket, shrugs it back on, toes her shoes back onto her feet. ] Training, I guess. Fighting more.

[ A bit dryly: ] There ain't nothing magic about it. Y'know mutants are still just humans.

So, you're sayin' once ya hit the human limit, then that's it?

[ Well that's no fun. C'mon, Melee, come up the first flight of steps, to the bar, and lounge part of the club. In fact, there's overstuffed chairs scattered around, waiting for the place to open.

Grimmjow leaves Pantera leaned against one of those chairs, and ducks behind the bar. ]

[ She tags along, stretching her arms a little. They're a bit stiff, and she knows it'll ache tomorrow. But she doesn't mind it.

When they get upstairs, she helps herself to a chair without being invited. ]

Yeah, that's it. [ She doesn't seem to like the idea much herself. ] Can't help that. I'd get stronger if I could. Ain't like it's real fuckin' nice to master every martial art ever invented and be stuck in a human body.

Well, that's crap. The human limit ain't shit to the soul.

[ Here, have a coke ( shut up, Grimmjow has gotten spoiled by the living world, and it's food ) handed to you on his way to flopping into a chair, too. ]

There's gotta be a way ta break through that limit.

[ Melee accepts the Coke, popping the lid open and listening to the soda fizzing inside. ]

Yeah, well, if there is, I ain't figured it out yet. If I had, I woulda kicked your ass. [ But, really, she's just talking smack. Her temper seems to have cooled off, now that the fight's over. ]

[ He notices. And though taking a drink from the glass he brought over here with him, Grimmjow's eyes don't leave melee for a second. ]

Hn. I'm bored outta my damn mind in this place. So, ya better learn how ta break through that limit, ne?

[ Because with that fiery temper, she would be fun to fight. For real, that is. ]

((OOC: I know you have lots of other plot stuff, so do you want to end this one or keep going? I won't be offended either way :3 ))

(OOC: We can wrap this one up if you want! I had a really good time though. :])

((OOC: :D No worries! You're fun to play off of. /Stalks more posts <3 ))

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Like causes without rebels

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blah. Sorry for the tl;dr

i don't mind. 8] it's good, 'cause i've never seen bleach before.

It's all about a bunch of ridic. overpowered guys kicking each other's asses. :|b

LMFAO that actually sounds pretty awesome.

Bah! Sorry, RL kidnapped me D:

no worries. :]

;3; <3!

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