Above the skies of Berlin, Germany stood a man...or soul rather. Clad in rather humanesque clothing. He was clad in a simple white tee-shirt with blue straight legged jeans and a pair of black sneakers finished the outfit. Terribly human if you ignored his zanpakuto which was strapped to his left leg. Terribly informal for what he was doing here too. Or rather it would be informal if he wasn't him. Shinigami were most identifiable by their clothing. Those threads they wore marked them as dogs to the Soul King and the Gotei 13, or whatever military force they served. He needed people to know that no matter what he felt like, he was sure as hell NOT one of them. Looking down at the humans below he sighed deeply. The man with the platinum hair was bored. Very, very bored. He had felt two small fry Quincy go to investigate, only to get an accurate feeling of his power and flee the other way. To tell the higher-ups no doubt. Which was fine by him really. Since that was the reason he was here. After all...


It was time...

2000 years of training, of waiting, of hiding, of fear, of anger, of plotting, and it was finally time. Vai'el didn't have the forces he desired but that would change soon if things went well enough. Was he crazy? Was he suicidal? This was probably the WORST place to begin, but he had little choice. He had eyes and ears in the Human World, though many of them were dead at this point in time. The humans were all but disorganized in America. Their leader was nowhere to be found, and the Bounts? Pfft. He couldn't even find a single trace of one, let alone one powerful enough to be considered 'leader'. He needed the big wigs, he couldn't be bothered to converse and mingle with the lower rabble. He knew the Gotei 13, and he knew how they operated. 2000 years had done much for him and his kind. Their home in the Dangai provided them with enough shelter to practice their craft in peace, and though it was small it served their numbers well. They were, however, lacking in the numbers department. Shinigmami outnumbered them by a significant margin. Him and his higher ups alone wouldn't be able to hold them off. He also was not content to subject his people to wallowing in that world forever. That was not his way. He was discontent with their new home after 2,000 years, and at this point only saw it as a necessary evil. Like the Hollow. It served a purpose, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

So here he was. High above Berlin. He dared not don his mask. It was bad enough he was a Shinigami in Quincy Land, he wasn't going to be stupid and put on something that would mark him as a Hollow and have every enemy he could think of for miles and miles on his tail. No. The Shinigami reiatsu he exerted should be enough for him. He knew eventually the leader would come. He had to. Vai'el was putting out too much reiatsu. The lesser Quincy wouldn't stand a chance against him, and honestly he didn't want a fight. If that's what he wanted he could have slipped in and slaughtered one of their outposts in a heartbeat without being noticed. No. What he was doing was sending a message. He was calling to the Quincy Leader to come and face him. Vai'el didn't know where their headquarters was, otherwise he simply would have slipped inside and been waiting in the man's chair for him when he returned. He was sure he could too. Even with the tight security, stealth was what he was groomed to do. Quincy, Hollow, hell even Shinigami and Humans, the man was broken down and rebuilt to become silences incarnate.


Suddenly a demonic figure appeared in front of him, leaning on nothing visible and grinning from ear to ear. Yuki. Vai'el looked at him and then looked beyond him into the distance. "Think he'll show, or think he'll go? Run and hide from big bad Vai'el? HA! He'll probably send thousands of Quincy here to slaughter you. Strength in numbers and all that. Hoo-hoo! This'll be fun!" He was so eccentric. It tired Vai'el out more than actually fighting him did. "Or maybe he will show up. Just to plant an arrow right between your eyes. Are you ready? Are you scared?! Think it's time to die again? I sure hope not. I rather enjoy your company, Vai'el. Even if you never see me anymore." And there it was. The reason he was here. Yuki had a habit of never stating what he was pissed about directly. Though Vai'el knew the Zanpakuto Spirit rather well after all these years. "I'm sorry. I've been busy, you know this. I promise, if things go well here we will have more time together. We'll even...sigh, we'll even play hide and seek..." The spirit's slender pointed ears perked up and he cheered gleefully. "REALLY?! WOO-HOO!!! YES! I'll go set it up now. I'm sure you'll do fine. You have to do fine. Why wouldn't you do fine? Don't be nervous. Stand up straight. Don't stutter, stammer, swear, sulk, groan, moan,-"

"Yuki!"

"Oh yes yes. Fine. Ta!" And just like that he was gone. The Vizard sighed and shook his head. Sometimes he was so glad he has Sombra in his head as well. She was playful too, but she just wanted to kill him. It was much easier to deal with.

Ulrich sat in his fathers old desk , in his childhood home of Berlin Germany. He had took his time away from his castle too come visit the place he once called home , where his training began. Where his future started. Today he didn't want to feel like the emperor to a whole race of people , he just wanted to be ulrich again but he knew after all he went through to come this far it was not plausible. At least not at the time. His white trench boots made a small clacking sound as he walked the office desk and towards the door, picking up his tattered , yet stylish , black cloak from the hook attached too the finely polished wooden door. Ulrich adjusted his raven black hair as he put his cloak on, opening the study door to say good bye to his fathers studies once more but happily would be back once more. He chuckled as he thought what his children might have for him when he got back to the castle , hopefully some playful story or perhaps dinner as he was infact hungry. However the chuckle soon stopped as he felt it , a reiatsu , a reiatsu belonging to a shinigami that seemed to be hovering over Berlin itself.

As ulrich exited his home , two of his soldat appeared behind him. "Your Maje..." one started "Yes I know" he said cutting them off because he already knew what they were about to say , "You two accompany me" he added still continuing. As they headed toward the shinigami , ulrich wondered why such a foul thing be in his territory when he had not done a single thing. After a short amount of time they were floating above Berlin , the shinigami right in front of his eyes. He found it strange this shinigami looked quite , unformal , not wearing what he typically say what the death gods wore but what you would see a regular human wear. A simple white shirt , blue jeans finished with black sneakers with the only thing that made him not seem normal was the zanpakuto at his side and the platinum blonde hair. ulrich stared at the soul with distaste he started to speak "What has brung you here?" His voice was smooth yet direct.

He was just about to lower his reiatsu and return back home when he picked it up. That kind of power wasn't just any Quincy. He smiled to himself. It seemed it worked. He could detect two other small fry with him as well. No matter. They shouldn't and wouldn't be an issue if things did go south. He had no intention of letting things get that bad though. He stuffed his left hand into his pocket and waited for the trio to appear before him. In no time there they were in all their...might. He looked them up and down. He gave no rhyme or reason as to whether or not he actually heard the question. Either he did hear it and chose to ignore it, or he just didn't hear it at all. Either way, Vai'el just took his time analyzing those before him. He had only seen Quincy a handful of times. One of which was when they slaughtered his first friend. He felt that feeling again...the warmth coursing through his body and a desire to rip their throats out where they stood. He was sure he could kill one of the pawns before the master could react. He was sure he could feel their blood flowing over his hands as he savagely beat them.

He immediately pushed those thoughts away. They weren't his. Those were Sombra's. The darkness that lurked within him. Behind his fair skin, blue eyes, and stoic features, she was there...pushing, bidding, coaxing. She wanted him to slaughter these men. She was playing that memory over and over in his head. You'd never know that by looking at him though. He was the epitome of a statue. He stood there in graceful stillness, as if one was looking at a picture. The only hint that it wasn't a picture or statue was the single flowing platinum brain in his hair. Eventually his eyes settled on the man whom he wrote off as being the leader of the race. The frozen blue eyes of the Vizard scanned him carefully, not missing a single detail. He took notice of the man's hair, his skin, the way he stood, the clothes he wore, his footing, and how he carried himself. He wished to portray an emotion. He wasn't sure which emotion though.

He went with humility.

He bowed gracefully before the man, bending at the waist, and keeping his head low with his neck shown. When he righted himself he spoke with purpose and clarity. "Pardon my intrusion into your land...Sir." His face didn't show it, but the small pause there would give way to the fact that he was ignorant as to how to address the Quincy leader. "I wished an audience with you, as I feel it is you who would best benefit myself...my people even. I am sure you are curious about my attire. I have dressed this way to show you I am not aligned with those whom you would assume me to be with. I left them a very long time ago..." His voice never once wavered, never once lowered. He spoke softly, in terms of tone though it wasn't meek, and aside from the confusion on how to address him, he spoke with confidence the entire time.

His hand, however, never left his pocket. A move Vai'el did on purpose. He wanted this man to know that as much as he would respect him, and as much as he would humble himself, he was still an equal. He would not be treated as a lesser in any way shape or form. That hand in his pocket was the only thing keeping him tired to his position of power.