Another rainy day in Sendai. Just another rainy day.
The tall ominous figure stood high above the streets, in mid air. One singular, slitted eye tracked those walking below him on the streets, unknowing of the creature that could probably level the entire block on a whim. He stared down, hunting for a human. Something of interest, to keep that flippant attention of his for any amount of time. One person in particular, to be precise.
Nnoitra Jiruga found the particular person's soul, quickly finding it and sonidoing to the ground before beginning in a hurried clip after the particular soul's scent, blowing past the people roaming the streets. It was a bad part of the city, so the ones still out this late at night were thugs and junkies, ones Nnoitra sidestepped on his path after a figure dodging the street lamps ahead of him. The figure was walking in a curious way, one without rhyme or reason to their step, without a destination. It swayed as it attempted to find a place to go, randomly turning down a dark alley and heading there. Nnoitra stalked its steps, as he had before. The object of his interest would either sit around or actually do what Jiruga came to spectate on, and as the person before him walked down the dark alley, it stopped suddenly. Nnoitra stopped as well, near a decrepit TV store playing breaking news about a body found in a suitcase downtown. A female anchor was speaking, and Nnoitra paid the anchorwoman a disinterested glance as he returned to the sight before him. Just something about that serial killer at it again, the sadistic fuck disemboweling people and entire families in the most vicious sort of way. Jackal, they called the killer, mostly because of a major screw-up. They knew Jackal for his laughter, high and screeching and blood chilling as he left crime scenes. But when they named him Jackal, they really meant Hyena. Jackal stuck, and was proved more and more correct as they found old abandoned hideouts and then found evidence of cannibalism. Jackal was on a bloody and random spree, and the police were investing nearly all their time in capturing him.
Walking forward, Nnoitra observed the figure he'd been stalking standing before another larger figure, a man with a twisted sneer and short ratty black hair, wearing clothes that showed off his considerable physique. He wasn't nearly as tall as the invisible Jiruga standing a few feet away, but he was considerably mountainous. Kind of like a smaller, human version of Yammy. Right now, he was standing in front of a woman with deep reddish colored hair pulled back into a ponytail, staring up at the man blocking her path. "Who're you." She asked in a decidedly dull tone, and the man let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Ya shouldn't be out so late. You might run into some…bad people." He threatened eerily, taking a step forward. The woman's eyes widened and she took a step backwards, terrified to the point of it being very stiff. "Y-you're…you're not…" She muttered in terror, and the man before her produced a long hunting knife and let her see it catch the dim light. "That's right, dear. You'll know me as Jackal." The serial killer grinned, moving around the terrified stiff woman so that her back was to the wall, and she pressed against it leaning her limp arm against a dumpster.
"Wh-what are you going to do with me??" She breathed, and Jackal chuckled ominously. Taking the long blade of his knife, he pressed it against his thumb and flicked it across to draw a bit of blood while talking, to back up the crazy. "Well, I'll do with you what I did with all the others. I'm gonna shove this knife in you an' cut you from pussy to chops, and decorate this alley with your intestines. I'm gonna bathe in your blood, bitch." He told her while advancing, leaning in and laying the flat side of his knife against her cheek and staring into her eyes. She had closed them, speaking slowly.
"From pussy to chops?" She asked him, and he laughed in a dry, loud crackling sort of way while pressing the knife harder against her flesh. "That's right! 'Cuz I'm the fucking Jackal!" He finished madly, grabbing her by the front of her black overcoat and dragging her inside the decrepit old apartment next to them, abandoned for what looked to be a very long time. Nnoitra followed, watching the Jackal drag the kicking woman inside. He tossed her against the floor, standing between her and the door as the invisible Espada watched on from the corner of the room. She stood and attempted to dodge his grip but was unsuccessful, being grabbed and pinned against the crumbling concrete wall hard. Jackal leaned forward, growling in her face as the knife dug into her shoulder. "Any last words, bitch?" He asked her with a grin before giving another sharp, loud, and painful to hear laugh, and she was silent a moment.
"Yeah. Your laugh sounds like shit." The woman spoke in an entirely new tone, completely different from the fearful cries of earlier. Jackal cried out in surprised and staggered back as the woman walked forward with purpose in her step, slamming him against the opposite wall with a larger hunting knife in his gut. He swore loudly, voice hoarse in terror as she twisted the knife with a sadist's grin. The low light from an outside street lamp illuminated her face once again, the redheaded woman's right eye covered in a black patch, her singular green eye wide and crazed. "Ya know, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." She crooned to him, sawing the viciously curved knife upwards to see his eyes roll back in his head. Her grin turned to an enraged snarl, as she jerked it to the side and felt his intestines bulge against her hands. "I don't like taking credit for work that isn't mine, Jackal."
He shoved her back in a sudden movement and she only staggered a couple steps, seeing him staring down in detached and absolute horror at his innards in his hands, before forgetting about it and lunging at her with his own knife. Unlike he, who dodged the knife with fear of the blade as his 'prey' had swung, she didn't move a bit when he jammed the knife in her shoulder and twisted it in panic. He caught sight of not a mad grin, but of a deadpan stare right into his eyes. "You're afraid of the knife. No killer can be afraid of their knife." She told him blankly, twisting around him quickly and hooking her foot under his, dragging them out from under him and causing him to hit the ground with a powerful slam. Instantly did she drop down and straddled his waist, pulling off her black overcoat to show bright red clothing that brought out the color of her hair, the tie holding it restrained in a ponytail pulled out and tossed away as well. Now she was a wild beast, a Jackal beyond any other. Nnoitra watched from his corner in hot-blooded anticipation of the killing moment, another murder in her long legacy of death. Her hands were as bloody red as any Arrancar's, and she loved every moment of the cutting and the killing. The nameless woman retrieved her knife from his gut, grabbing a hand of his and impaling it with the wicked blade right to the floor. He screamed hoarse, and she laughed. Not just any laugh, and not his laugh either. A loud, whooping, screeching shriek that could be perfect for a more euphoric version of a hollow's scream. It was one of the things Nnoitra loved the most when he watched her kill, to hear that laughter of hers. Sent excited chills right through him. She grabbed his knife from her shoulder, dragging it out without so much as a blink of her eyes. With wonder, the redhead appraised the blade. "This blade is shit. Cheap shit." She let the guy beneath her know, grabbing his other hand and impaling it to the floor as well. Reaching into her clothes, she retrieved a larger knife with a huge hook on the end, something that the fake Jackal seemed to know what its purpose was. He started screaming and she growled, stabbing the knife into the wooden floor next to his head. "Shut the fuck up, you picked a good spot to kill a person. Nobody can hear us." She growled, jerking the knife free and twisting it around to gouge into the wound in his stomach. The blood dyed her hands all over again, and she proved to the fake Jackal exactly what flavor of insanity he was fucking with as she dug her hand into the wound and leaned down, running her tongue along the bloody gash as she dragged out his intestines. Her victim was losing his voice by now, and she retrieved her knife to dig out his left eye. More screams, as she tossed the offending organ away. "You got a perdy screamin' voice." She grinned as she said it, reaching up with her hooked knife as he jerked at the blades holding his hands to the floor, unable to kick off the woman sitting square on his waist. She reached up with practiced precision, placing the cruel hook where it belonged and giving a hard twist, hearing the rib bone snap. By now she was getting tired of hearing screams, and so the woman reached into his mouth and pulled out his tongue with a sigh, tossing that over her shoulder as well.
"You know, you really picked a bad night." She sighed, laying the soiled knife blade against her cheek as he gargled on his blood. "I was really just wanting to go home and go to sleep. Had a real bad day, y'know?" She muttered, looking up at the ceiling curiously. The man gargled again, and she returned her grinning attentions to him. "Oh right! I'm being so inconsiderate; here I have a guest, and I'm talking about my shitty day." She smiled, watching the hot stinking blood dying her hand drip down onto his pale face, before she pulled her knife up and went from his groin to his throat, slicing him open. "From pussy to chops, eh?" She mused with a smile, before seeing him in his death throes. She tsked, slitting his throat finally and instantly jerking back as the blood splashed up in her face. "Damn, you're a squirter, huh?" She sighed, wiping at her face. Quickly, Nnoitra watched her become enamored with the bright crimson color staining her hands again.
Sure, she was just some human psychopath. But she was a human psychopath that Nnoitra took great pleasure in watching at work. Even more, he loved watching her go into the blood phase after every kill, draining every bit of blood that she could onto the floor, laying and bathing in it. With her clothes on of course; she was technically still in high danger, rolling around in the blood of her victim next to his cooling corpse full of knives, but she never cared, and Nnoitra was happy that she didn't. This psychopath named Jackal went into a sort of intoxication with the blood, licking it up off the floor. Nnoitra was watching her get wasted off the blood. She didn't move for a while beyond lying in the thick hot puddle, the heavy scent in the room making it all the more intoxicating. Nnoitra watched her silently, watched her roll now and then and saw the thick liquid soak through her clothes and her already blood red hair, knew she'd be a huge target from all the blood covering her face, her hands, her torso, her everything.
It felt like hours later that he watched her roll to her knees and stare blankly right through him, absolutely drenched in bright red blood sticking her hair to her face. She stood, the blood dry and stiff on her body and cold around her feet. Moving to the body, she got to work gutting him and artistically draping intestines along the room, eventually taking everything for decoration and leaving his body an empty split husk. Finally retrieving her knives, she stuck her hand in the cool puddle and began to write a message along the wall.
Hush little baby don't say a word,
For your last screams won't be heard.
Forgive me father, for I am sin.
I've gone off and killed again.
She finished, signing it with a long smear across the wall through the cursive name 'Jackal'. How pretty, all over again. Finishing up, she slipped out the door as Nnoitra followed, listening to her cackle and shriek like a banshee, or a hollow. The loud laughter echoed very nicely, and Nnoitra once again followed her as she hurried out with her tools and into the night, now her cackling going down into a mad giggle. It slowed as well though as she hurried through familiar dark alleys, and eventually a somber silence accompanied the sounds of her footsteps. This time Nnoitra followed her to a new hideout, watching her crawl up onto a closed dumpster, clambering onto the low roof of a flat, hurrying across and giving a good leap to a hanging fire escape ladder around ten or so feet off the ground. She caught it with one hand, her black overcoat back on her body to hide the bloody clothes completely soaked. Gripping tighter, she was able to pull herself up and crawl to the top, slipping in a broken window and moving around her temporary hideout; this time, an abandoned apartment building. Nnoitra just followed, without having to go up the ladder and just heading on steps of reishi. He didn't speak, she couldn't hear him anyway as he watched her shed bloody clothes and drop them on the floor. A clear path of discarded clothing was from the window to the bathroom, and he watched her slip off her pants as she disappeared in the decrepit bathroom. Jiruga followed her with leering eyes, tracing her curves. She wasn't gorgeous in a normal sense, not a supermodel and not really that attractive in a normal sense. Other than her vivid hair and the singular eye, she wasn't different from any other freak.
...Well, not to most, anyway. Not to those that didn't track her steps, didn't see her like Nnoitra did. Maybe only other sadistic fucks could really appreciate her work. Possibly, only sadistic fucks of Jiruga's caliber could appreciate it. And he did; she was pretty damn fascinating for a human. Pretty new to see a human enjoy killing so much, and he could appreciate that too. Plus, Nnoitra loved seeing blood, and she loved wearing it. He tsked as she moved to the shower, stepping in and letting the dark colored water wash the blood off of her and leave her a normal human being once again. Didn't like when she went back to the normal boring but odd self, liked her better as a killing angel wearing a mad grin and shrieking like a hollow.
Couldn't say that he didn't like watching her tits bounce when she got out of the shower and walked to grab a dirty and oft used towel, though.
She used the water still in the bathtub to wash her clothes, wearing only that red towel as she did. After she threw in the detergent bought especially to bring out those bloodstains (handy shit it was) and let them sit for a while, he watched the woman sit on the counter and grab her pack of smokes sitting nearby, lighting one up and taking a deep drag off it. She kept her right eye closed the entire time, the patch sitting next to her thigh. He knew she was trying to kill the adrenaline, keep her from going berserk and not being able to stop. Sometimes, he just wished that she'd go ahead and lose it, get killed and let him just do whatever the fuck he wanted to with her soul. Fuck, maybe that's what he was waiting for. Didn't want to do it himself and lose this obvious form of entertainment, just waiting for her to fuck up and get killed on her own so he could clean up later.
She yawned a bit, catching Nnoitra's attention again. Pulling her clothes out of the water and wringing them out, she tossed them over the shower curtain rod to air dry and pulled on her eye patch again, the cigarette still in between her teeth. A puff; smoke wafted after her as she moved past him, oblivious to his existence. He didn't know her name, and she never spoke it or let it be heard. All she seemed to be was 'Jackal', nothing more and nothing less. Jackal moved past him, and the lecherous Espada wanted nothing more at that moment than to reach out and pinch her ass as she went by, as he did with any poor female Numero he could get his hands on back in Hueco Mundo. He couldn't though, not yet. Nnoitra watched Jackal sigh openly, dragging out a set of nightclothes that were tinged with the smallest bits of red here and there. It was obviously used often, what she slept in at night when her bloodied clothes were drying. She dropped onto the dirty torn up couch, a stray spring sticking up like a knife that she maneuvered around as she laid down. The apartment building was long abandoned; she would be safe for some amount of time until the police widened their search areas. She would have to move again then.
Nnoitra watched her fall into an uneasy sleep and sighed in a bit of annoyance at her going to bed so early. He didn't even get to see her nice tits for very long at all this time. Knowing he would need to go back soon (the Quinta could slip away for a bit of time now and then, but not for too long), Nnoitra cast one last glance at her and with the right angle, grinned at getting a good peek down her shirt. Now content, Nnoitra opened a Gargantua back to Las Noches and left Jackal there, her invisible stalker temporarily gone. She would be free of that odd feeling of being watched, the one that made her walk just a little quicker in the dark of night.