Arrancar Registration
Name: Miuzerra, Merrow
Rank: 'Tis to be proclaimed that he naught but a mere arrancar soldier, a Numeros. (Willing Fraccion, if anyone wants one). His dearest wish is to become an Espada, but his ultimate goal is to lead the Exequias.
Age: Total age: 2421 years old. Twelve as a human, a few hours as a soul, 1799 as a hollow and the rest(approximately six hundred) are arrancar.
Visual Age - as he when he died as a human, a 12 year-old child.
Appearance:A youth who has the looks of an innocent, angelic cherub. And whose odd gleaming smiles and cheery composure conceal the grotesque nature below.
He is rather dimminutive for his age, and perhaps that is what gives him a harmless appearance. His hair is simple black, his eyes are a dark shade of aquamarine, and his skin is of a fair complexion.
A remaining piece of his past that is proof of what he is, is his hollow mask: a clearly visible, but small patch of white around his right eye. A small area around his eye is covered, extending mostly up to patch up a portion of the forehead. His right eye is still visible in the eye hole of the remnant. His Hollow Hole, another physical feature serving as proof as to what he is, can be found as a minuscule 'gopher hole' exactly 1 in (about 2.5 cm) below the bottom end of his sternum.
The only clothing he has been seen wearing is the common attire of most arrancar from Las Noches ... consisting of a white jacket, black sash, white hakama, and black and white boots that bear an opposing similarity to a Shinigami's sandals; in essence, inverted Shinigami uniforms.
Besides this, there is nothing else that distinguishes him from the masses of other arrancar in Las Noches.
Gender: Male
Personality: A sweet and innocent child who loves pranks, jokes, and company. A deranged being that gorges and chokes on the flesh and blood of his enemies. A warmonger, demented and soulless (by human standards, not spiritual), making use of the remains of enemies … their bones being his favorite chew toys. A loyal soldier to death, even when knowing full well that being loyal is nothing more than being a slave, not to the whims of another being, but the dark abysmal instinct that lurks in his own heart and mind.
Merrow is all of these things. They encompass all the various aspects of his seemingly fragmented psyche. One could assume after meeting him that he, after existing as being with only killing and consuming as the only goals in life, is rather scarred from that time. But they would be sadly mistaken. Though the child represents his human side, the madman is the hollow, the soldier and warmonger are his arrancar state-of-mind ... he is of one conscience, and that one is never trouble. These 'aspects' are not individual identities; they are a conglomerate with several others that form the mental workings of this spiritual being's singular 'self'. His personality could be on the verge of being bi-polar, if one considers the two ends of the extremes that his behavior and actions can reach … and they range from the sweet boy to the psychotic killer. He can also seem quite naïve … trusting to an extent where one could take advantage of him, although really this is merely the image he chooses to project, as he could not do so in his own past. However, there is a limit to how much trust he is willing to have in any one person.
At first glance and with first words exchanged with him(regardless of one‘s race), he seems to be a playful mischievous child, who holds little interest in fighting. One could use Dardonni’s (Don Panini) line for describing him whiles he is amongst friends, ‘Sweet and soft like the chocolate’. He gives the idea that he is a deeply compassionate person, but really these emotions of good nature are only seen in the company of arrancar. He does have a deep attachment to his brethren, and refuses under most circumstances to fight with them as enemies. Of course, sparring, training, and the like are all right with him, but never will he consider them as the enemy until there is sufficient and immutable proof of their betrayal.
- The lighter end of the spectrum => Silly Child
He always likes to seek out some good-humored fun. Good-humored for an arrancar, that is, so pain, violence, wanton destruction, and the like are usually some of his daily antics, and many have fallen victim to his ‘pranks’. And he goes about any means to achieve his quota of ‘fun‘, no matter how foolish or childish or even dangerous(such as baiting a massive swarm of Gillian Menos to begin a procession march through inhabited area and crush all within their path) they may seem. These are the few exceptions when he would be willing to injure his fellow arrancar, though often with minimal physical damage and really all for comedic value. More than once has he gotten on the nerves of a comrade just through his ridiculous actions, which can range from weak explosives planted in their beds to drop-kicking them down a short flight of stairs(or out a window of a lower floor of the towers). Usually, his quota is achieved when he gets scolded by someone of superior rank.
-A being driven by riled hatred, both natural and artificial => Wrathful Soldier
Nonetheless, despite his rather crude and immature want of rather horrid moments of hilarity and refusal to fight against his own kind … he has no qualms with engaging in combat against those he considers enemies.
When engaging a spiritually powerful being of unknown race, he presents himself in an amiable and casual manner … taking as much time as necessary to discern what his enemy/opponent could be. After registering the being as whatever race he or she may be does he proceed to take action. If still unsure as to what his enemy is, he will keep to evasive maneuvers until he finds it out. Afterwards, he unleashes the full brunt of his hatred and carries out his attack.
Through instinct, experience, and instruction, he has been taught who is the enemy … and what an enemy deserves. Swift death is too good for a Shinigami, pain must be taught to them first before they can die. Suffering is not enough for the living (Quincy, Spiritually Powerful Human), they must be shown agony and must experience gut-twisting terror before they die. Or so goes the thoughts in his mind when he engages battle. Without a care in the world for innocents, without a care in the world for bystanders(unless arrancar), he attacks mercilessly with extreme savagery that stems from a millennia and half of contempt and a brain-washing reminiscent training with the arrancar of Las Noches which lasted for quite some time.
Who is the enemy to Merrow? He never answered the question himself, and took several ideas from his fellow arrancar. However, it took a long time before he found an adequate answer.
The enemy: All, regardless of race, age, gender, or any other discerning characteristics, who stand in the way of the general will of the arrancar. With such a definition, and the general will of arrancars being a want of war, everything and everyone could be an enemy. Even traitors, turncoats, and conspirators of the same race as Merrow would be decimated.
-War is buffet-line, but only those with a degenerated palette can enjoy its bounty => Psychotic Glutton
But even with his hatred, Merrow finds overwhelming joy in tearing a foe apart limb by limb. Satisfaction, gratification, with each one downed by his sword, his fist, his power. And with these emotions that would suggest a sense of pride for accomplishing the destruction of an enemy, comes a ravenous hunger stemming from his hollow nature. His means of attack are directly linked to his ire and his hunger, and he always aims to tear apart his enemies and devour them piece by piece. Enjoying the disgusting taste of their flesh, as the bitter and inedible bits of them are swallowed. He savors the taste of flesh and blood, but really … he enjoys the disgusted or terrified look displayed from either victims or spectators. And no matter what violent complaints or upheavals his body may give to the gruesome meal, he always consumes it.
Because of his innate ability, bones have become his chew toys. Thanks to the fact that they can be preserved even after the death of the enemy, he makes use of them with his teeth when in somber or irritated moods. Almost like a dog, he constantly hides these possessions throughout the ‘White Castle’ … and more times than none, someone has found a skeletal remain of his victim that he preserved to later chew on. Yet another one of his odd and disgusting habits, that he sees nothing wrong in doing.
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Hair Color: Black, just plain old black.
Likes: 1. His own twisted brand of humor.
2. Mayhem orchestrated by him.
3. Blood!!!!
4. Flying and Splattering Guts!
5. Shinigami Cookies!!(With 100% ingredients made from the average shinigami)
Dislikes: 1. Everyone or everything that’s not an arrancar
2. Seiretei
3. The Human World (except when chowing down)
4. The concept of a Cero Espada
5. Arrancar Traitors
Crushes: Technically, he's still a pre-pubescent child ...
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Specialties: Does hiding explosives on his body count? No? Damn.
-Avid reader: A favorable activity for the 'young' arrancar is reading, this places second to raising hell every morning.
-Poison cooker: Never ask him to prepare a meal. It tends to be a primordial soup-like substance with a queezy smell to it ... the fumes are perfect for knock-out gas, if one was willing to collect it all.
History:Merrow’s name was given to him by a fellow arrancar. It was given especially due to his love of chewing on bones … and a joke on his personality (mellow, which of course he is not). His last name was also given to him, but it was just contrived to fit him, as there is no real meaning behind it.
So he, a nameless child, had quite an unusual human history, as he lived during one of the grand heights of antiquity, the ‘Golden Age’ of the Greeks.
-Human => Detestable days, shrouded by ignorance … only near the end was it pleasant-
He was unnamed and insignificant … an illegitimate son to an Athenian slave-owner. His mother, being a slave that came from almost the other side of the world, was nothing more than an object to this man. An object he decided to make the most out of, for this man was, by far, one of the most corrupt individuals of the city. Immediately after the owner did his duty, he took no care of the wrecked object … leaving her effectively to die, though he refused to disown her. Nine months later, Merrow(though that wasn’t his birth name) entered the world of the living, while his mother departed.
And he spent the first eight years of his life, employed as a slave to his own ‘father’. It was easy for the man to claim that the boy had no relation to him, after all, the child had inherited most of the traits from his mother’s gene pool. His dark hair, odd eyes, fair skin, and overall frail appearance, made it difficult to pin him as the son of an Athenian. But that appearance of his did not spare him of work. True, conditions were not overly brutal, but they had quite a few lasting effects on the boy, who never took in the freedom and absurdity a normal childhood would provide. (This indirectly leads to his personality today, as his foolishness spawns from his longing to experience the absolute ‘mayhem’, and as he does not truly ‘age’ he can go through it for a lengthy amount of time.)
But a stroke of luck, and timing, reversed his situation. His master, both biologically and legally, died of natural causes(or so the story went). The archaic precursor to a will and lawyer felt profound sympathy to those who had suffered at the hands of their ‘master’. With a loophole here and there, and the support of politicians, all who were owned by the man received honorary citizenship as a compensation for the severe abuse that had been heaped upon them for years.
The boy, now all alone and seemingly without a purpose, wandered the streets of the Greek city. He literally groped around the place, as he knew very little of the city and had been deprived of a solid, basic education. By chance, he came across and old man, accompanied(though at a distance) by several other youths. The elder man, whose bright eyes had a gentle gaze that could bore its way into the minds of whoever looked at them, literally interrogated a poor individual. The individual, a wealthy merchant judging by his clothes, stuttered madly and pitifully spewing out incoherent statements as the old man asked more and more questions.
He(Merrow) was fascinated by this unfolding scene, in which a possibly well educated and well off man was being berated someone who looked like an old beggar. The boy could not help put approach the other youths who stood around the speakers, and politely inquire as to what was going on.
As luck would have it, he had just witnessed Socrates questioning an ‘ignorant’ individual.
-
For the next three years, the boy followed Socrates and the other youths of Athens, watching him question individuals from all social classes about the meaning of life. He, over time, was taught the basics of education from the others, though it was a slow process … but perhaps his specific heritage made it slightly easier for him to acquire information? Either way, at the end of three years time, he had accumulated enough knowledge to be a literate individual with moderate skills in a wide variety of subject. But even better, his tutoring had given him a small, yet near-insatiable desire to learn.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. First with Socrates. Year 399 B.C., the execution of Socrates. Merrow was not present to see the death of this wonderful philosopher, who had inspired him to break free from the empty void that he had lived in prior to the chance encounter. No, the child had fallen ill. During the trial of Socrates, he tried his best to attend so as to see how Socrates dealt with that massive problem, but fatigue overwhelmed him. A disease unknown to the physicians of the area had stricken him, rendering him incapable of viewing the last few days of Socrates. He could not even see his idol to his death. So upon receiving the news that the great Socrates had consumed the hemlock, and peacefully passed on, he was disturbed to unknown proportions. Despite suffering from a disease, he became an insomniac, a fatalist, a pessimist, and fanatic of death. His mind went going on various tracks, looping around all sorts of various memories, hallucinations occurred regularly.
And the child, of twelve years old, died mad, yet at peace. Or really, he died in one of his rare moments of rest, while his subconscious bothered him with nightmares.
-Soul => An important part of any arrancar’s breakfast-
Though insignificant in his own memories, Merrow's short period of time as a Soul/Plus was a short period of despair. He did not make a fuss about still existing in the living realm ... as he wasn't even sure that there was supposed to be some place where he had to go upon passing on to the next life. His soul remained, trapped you could say ... drifting about the city aimlessly. But, though there was a sense of freedom in this new state of being, it immediately ended.
A Hollow found him, and with realizing that such a beast was lurking, Merrow's soul was devoured. Or more accurately ... tainted.
-Hollow => It begins.-
He was dragged away from the realm of the living, caught half-way in the teeth of some strange winged-beast. All he remembers about his 'rebirth' into a Hollow was the immense pain ... screeches that not only came from his own mouth, but from other hoarse throats about him. And as his body was torn to shreds(or so he remembers the feelings), his screaming ceased as something emerged from his own throat. It seemed as though the pain had upset him enough for him to unload whatever it was that was still inside his gut ... only ... it seemed to be alive, and molding over his face. The part-way Hollow was about to let out another screech, one of fear this time, only to stop in mid-breath for it.
All went black for a moment. Though he could see, something clicked in his mind ... quite literally. His mind no longer listened to the gentle voice of reason ... it was overcome by instinct. A demanding will came forth once that mask had fully formed ... and it hungered. And the Hollow had no choice to obey, its mind was over-ridden by impulses. Blood from the same race was spilled, as he devoured the nearby Hollows.
But. It was not enough, no, the small meal had just increased the apetite numerous times over. A desire to eat came to be, and the Hollow willing obeyed. It scurried away on multiple limbs, with distorted appendages that seemed to be armored. And it proceeded to butcher. Though it possessed instinct to devour other Hollows, it lacked the knowledge of why is sought out Hollows. Not only was it ignorant of the evolutionary drive that compelled it, it was even unaware of what it was. But no questions arose it its mind as it went along its merry way.
-Evolution to Menos-
How could he have known? He didn't. Even when he got there, he still didn't know. He was now one of the several lumbering Menos Grande. A collosal figure, just like they were, and in the Forest of Menos.
Centuries of devouring had managed to get him here, though he was still unknowing ... unthinking. Still driven by that overwhelming instinct to feed, he was the first of the clumsy newly formed Menos to begin to devour. And pretty damn soon, he had lumbered around enough to get close to chew the others into itty bitty pieces that were swallowed.
...
Though he quite never made it past the Menos stage.
"Well, well now ... What have we here? Quite the voracious one, aint'cha?", a cheery voice called out from behind the collosal figure. The sound was more than enough to lure the thoughtless beast, causing it to turn around and face the speaker ... though not quite comprehending the words being spoken.
"Good thing I decided to check up on things in the forest ... hmm. Still just a clumsy Menos, ey? Tell you what ... how about I just turn you into an Arrancar now? So you don't have to wander for all eternity trying to eat? Hmm? You'd like that?" a particularily merry person was standing, arms crossed with a wild grin upon his face. He was wearing white clothes of some sort, and also had a sword at his side.
The Menos did not respond ... or at least not in a civilized manner, unless civilized means a savage shriek and lunge forward with intent to chomp down enormous jaws on this new 'piece of meat'. Which is precisely what the lumbering Menos did. Only to get a
bala slammed right into its face. The Menos screamed, yet again, but this time in pain, as it lay sprawled on the ground and forcibly trying to stand up again.
"Tsk tsk ... wreckless too ... Geez. You trying give me a heart attack?" the white clothed man spoke aloud with a slight bit of disgust,
"Eh ... hate to see you running around trying to gobble up everything you see ... so, I'll take that bite as a 'yes'. Get ready, fella, you're probably going to enter a world of hurt ..."It wasn't a long procedure. It just involved ripping the mask off the Menos, which was easily accomplished by hand. And from the Menos' perspective ... a strange littler person was standing atop it's body, hand grabbing the lower portion of its face. But it didn't take a moment for the pain to return, and the white mask being torn off.
All
he remembers ... is pain
-Arrancar => The Last Piece of the Puzzle-
-RE:Birth-
Merrow awoke with a start. There was a massive headache that pounded against his skull, and he slowly pressed a palm into his forehead, rubbing a little bit although ... without giving it much thought. But, it seemed that the pain the subsided, only to give away to a new sensation. His body felt ... strange, and he didn't quite understand what was going on. To put it simply, he was sitting there in the forest, entirely nude, and it was a rather chilly time this night. His body unconsciously reacted to the cold, and soon he began to shiver drawing his legs close and arms about in a instinctive move to try to stay warm. His teeth also began to chatter somewhat.
Until something rather soft, yet pleasant was placed atop him. It was a jacket of some kind, made of white fabric. The newly born arrancar gazed at this white clothing with a quizzical look, unsure of where it had come from ... and exactly why it seemed to give him comfort. But his mind drew its attention away from the cloth to a person who had just sat down right in front of him.
"Well, now. Heh. I was expecting some kind of a demon, but here's some irony.", he chuckled for a little bit at the sight of the child who had been born from the Menos,
"So then ... kid. Do you understand what I'm saying?"The boy nodded his head. So far, it seemed he understood, yet he hadn't spoken. This silent gesture prompted somewhat of a sigh from the man, who calmly scratched the back of his head
"Eh ... might as well take ya home with me. Considering how angry you were as a Menos, you might be some worth back at Las Noches ..." the arrancar muttered, as he began to force open the dimensional rift that would lead away from this forest. Much like a kidnapper, the man then grabbed ahold of the boy and quite literally dragged him right into the gaping hole ... he had no intention of leaving behind a newly born arrancar here, when such a succesful evolution could yield yet another soldier for those of Las Noches. And though such an action prompted a complaint from the young one, the gaping 'teeth' of the
garganta slammed shut.
And as such, in his own memory, Merrow was ... abducted.
-Initiation into Las Noches: Approximately 2 year after transformation-
The boy, the palish arrancar with a small patch of white over his eye and forehead, was now part of the arrancars. The Fraccion who had found him was also given the reponsibilty of taking care of him ... which involved kicking the runt in the head every morning to wake it up.
But strangely, this odd-ball of a Fraccion was the source of Merrow's current-day mannerisms and was the one who gave the child-arrancar his name ...
-
"EH? You like chewing on bones, kid? Geez-ums. You're a god-damn arrancar, not some mutt!", he exclaimed for perhaps the umpteenth time finding the child in his 'care' gnawing away on a thigh bone salvaged from some carcass.
"... but ... I ... I just like the texture of bones!" the nameless child responded in a pitifully defense of his canine-esque behavior, while clenching a bone in his hands, half-gnawed from the sharp teeth he had. He complained in his recent-found voice, a rather shrill one ...
"Pffft. Fine then, kid. I suppose you like those bones then, probably might help you get more bone marrow if you eat the- ... ... marrow ... AH HA! That's it kid! I'm giving you a name, and you better like it!
Let's see ... um. Merrow ... Merrow ... -eh ... hm. Merrow Miuzerra? the whimsical Fraccion sputtered out his newly formed idea with a rather large senseless grin at the younger fraccion. But, much to his annoyance, he only received a pout, a blank stare, and a cold shoulder. The Fraccion twitched slightly at this silent response, he reached out and pinched the cheek of 'Merrow', which prompted an irritating squawk from the boy who complained earnestly about the gesture.
"Oy oy! Kid, at least be gracious that I even bothered to come up with a damn name for ya!" he barked out, though with a grin upon his face still.
"Gah! Fine! I'm Merrow! Please stop pinching me, now?" was the immediate response from the younger arrancar, who wasn't find much joy in being pinched. -
But as the years went on, the child learned not only the silly mannerisms of his caretaker ... but the harsh reality about his existance as an arrancar. He learned that he was a being of power, created from a monster(quite literally), that he had once had a 'human' identity and life.
And it did not take long for him to adopt some habits he had when he was a human, such as an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wanted to learn, about everything that was known about arrancars. He spent decades absorbing countless tales, records, information, and others about the long history of arrancar, and that of the 'artificial' arrancar, those born of the Hogyoku. Needless to say, he knew the history of Las Noches(how it had been the palace of a powerful Vasto Lorde, Barragan Luisenburg, but was then rennovated into the palace and home of Aizen, a man whose ungodly strength allowed him to dominate the Espada at that time), the existence of the Espada, the Exequias, the Hogyoku ... and that inadvertantly led to his lessons of the enemy: The shinigami.
His caretaker instructed him well, propaganda with actual historical material enflamed his already-existant natural dislike of the shinigami. But no longer was it instinct that would drive him to hate, his own mind and reason would aid the primal instincts in a fanatical rage against the 'black-robed fools'.
-
But then there is a gap in his memory. A strange hole of time, much like the days when he was unsure of what he did as a Hollow. All he remembers is just ... living. Existing, but nothing much beyond that. He just remembers that his anger intensified during this time. His hate of all things non-arrancar, that is. And his contempt for traitors grew in this time as well.
But beyond that, he is nothing more than a loyal servant to those who are high above him, in rank or power. A simple servant that fights just for the hell of it.
But, there are times in which he wonders ... when? When did he start to become so vengeful?
Innate Ability:-preservación- An ability that is a passive and usually non-combat skill. Merrow's bodily fluids(specifically his saliva, but he has yet to try his blood or such), can fossilize certain bodily remains of spiritual beings ... most commonly, their bones. Generally, when a spiritual being is killed, all traces of them - their remains, their clothing, etc. - vanish with them. Merrow's ability allows him to preserve the bones of his enemies so that they DON'T fade away. There is no known side-effect to the soul in question who has had its remains preserved by Miuzerra's ability.
Granted, it's a near-worthless ability, but seeing as he loves to eat his opponents alive the ability to save their remains which he can crunch and munch on happily away until it is ground into dust, it is a fair enough ability. This ability can also apply to severed limbs. And thus an arm or a leg or two can be saved up and stashed away.
Basic point, his drool hardens the bones and preserves them to be his chew toys until he crunches them into itty-bitty pieces with his teeth and swallows them.
Sample Chapter:- Set 7 months prior to present day -
"Miuzerra? Are you here? We've got a little job for you." a voice called from the dim corridors of the castle. A member of the Exequias had apparently come to address him ... how thoughtful. But this bone-headed individual spoke no more, and held in his hand a small slip of paper with text printed upon it.
The youthful-appearing arrancar took that slip with no complaints, and proceeded to read away, not caring that the Exequias member turned and went along his merry way. After all, Merrow was more than happy to have orders to follow ... it had been a full year since he had any official 'orders' from anyone from a higher-up position.
Although this job troubled him.
True he had helped the Exequias clean up in fights, and dealt with pitifully weak arrancar that no longer were useful. He had, for their failures, mercifully dealt them deathblows so they would not have to live on in the shame that had been heaped before them.
But this job ... this task ... this 'order' was the first one in which he was to execute a traitor. A no-name arrancar, one who failed to receive even a number ... and was forced to be used as just a guard. Apparently, the fool had caused a major amount of damage to the palace, started an uprising of other 'unsatisfied' arrancar, and then fled.
"Fools", Merrow declared in his mind, "Utter fools. Why would they do such a thing? Can they really be that upset over being weak?"
But orders were orders. And Merrow wasted no time.
-
"Allo." he declared aloud cheerily to the three lurking figures that dredged across the white sands. In a gentle smile and beaming look of compassion, Merrow declared to the three bastards, "Pardon me. But where are you all heading? Off to go see if you can find more wandering Hollows that can be turned?
Or perhaps the sun back at Las Noches was to bright for your liking?" The young one smiled whole-heartedly. He didn't really want to believe that these three were traitors ... it always pained him to hear of those who turned against their own kind, and he silently begged to himself(like a hopeful kid) that these three weren't really planning on splitting ties.
But no such luck.
The three arrancar charged Merrow, as the threw incoherent threats and battlecries, drawing their weapons and launching themselves at their judge, jury, and executioner. The luminscent smile just cracked, and turned into a grimace ... the eyes that had a bright sheen to them, were now filled with a light of madness ... even the cherubic face of Merrow seemed to darken as his expression contorted.
"I see ... such a pity." he muttered, discarding the need for a playful cheery tone, and switched to the offensive. His right and left hands were already ready for this attack, as he fired off two simaltaneous 'Cero' at point-blank range. The ones on the left and right of him were done for, their weak 'Hierro' was incapable of surviving such a blow at this range. But as for the middle one, Merrow took a more 'hands-on' approach. The blade slased diagonally, top-down, from the right(via Merrow's perspective) and unfortunately shattered midway in the stroke. Caught in the left hand of the young arrancar, was the upper-half of the blade cleanly snapped off from the sword itself.
The enemy's eyes bulged at the sight, though ... he didn't have much time for anything else. Merrow simply took the fragment of the blade, and impaled it's sharp end right into that traitor's skull.Another day, another morning, another butchering of lambs. He awoke with a start, realizing that he was in a rather large amount of pain ... Merrow then focused his eyes ... still groggy from having been dreaming a rather ... comforting dream full of killing, only to realize his hand a bloody pulp half-buried into the wall of his room. And if that wasn't bad enough.
"YOU FUCKING SHRIMP!! If you BANG on that god-damned wall one MORE FUCKING TIME, I'LL BURY YOU HEADFIRST OUT IN THE DESERT!!!" his next-door 'neighbor' bellowed at the top of his own lungs with the intent of chastising Merrow through the walls.
Only for the now-indignant Arrancar to begin planning his revenge.
1. Make use of gas bombs so as to make his room uninhabitable.
2. Screw around with this morning's breakfest and turn his favorites meals into poisoned jelly ... let's see if he chokes on that.
3. When he goes down the stairs for breakfast, remember to drop-kick him down them.
4. Pull off the sweet and innocent 'Bambi' look so as to get his forgiveness.
"Yesssssss ..., the child whispered softly to himself as proceeded to lick the blood off his hands,
"I shall make this day a living hell for him. Heheheheh."
Thu Dec 10, 2015 8:47 pm by 
