(A/n: Hello, relatively new author here, I just hope that this story is up to par with the 'heavy-hitters' as I call them.)
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It was a dark night, the new moon providing zero light to one half of the hemisphere of Earth. This was also primetime to commit some...not so good or ethical activities.
Five people inside of a building wearing full hazmat suits, one at the switch that was going to commit an atrocity in this area. They felt oddly apprehensive, they signed up for this, but they just can't help it.
The first one nods, followed by another one, another, and another. The fourth was internally conflicted, yet nodded notheless. The fifth pulled the switch.
Now, here's a question. How lethal do you think airborne Anthrax is?
The city was engulfed in the deadly smoke, coughs and cries for help very present, like the mist of death itself came to reap their souls, to end their life short.
Benjamin was suffering, everything burned. Every lethal breath he took intensifying it, akin to adding gas to an already large fire. A red liquid moved down his nose and mouth, dropping onto the floor, giving it a nice splash of crimson.
He couldn't spare the breath to scream as he tried to crawl somewhere, anywhere. Moving automatically with no thought present, trying to get to the non-existant 'safety' he oh so desired.
Of course, he never reached it. Every citizen of the city died like him, marking a tradgedy named as the 'White Mist of Death', the perpetrators never being found. But, Benjamin was special. He wasn't special physically, no no, we're far beyond that. He was special spiritually.
Well, not special in the 'talented, once in a million years' type, I mean special like in the special education classes. Basically, his soul could never be put to rest, no matter how hard anyone tried.
The spiritual disease known as 'Unresting Spirit' was as bad as it is good. Bad in the sense that you cannot ever feel the sweet release of eternal rest, and can never go ascend to heaven. Good in the sense that the disease holders are consideres immortal in spirit, as you may kill their body, but never their soul. Immortality is as much of a curse as it is a blessing, after all.
Along the streamline of souls, them being sifted and seperated into 'Heaven' and 'Hell', Benjamin woke up. It was a weird feeling. He was sure he had his eyes closed, but he could still see.
The Percieval of Spirit is very difficult to even achieve. Hell, maybe even impossible if you're a normal person or animal. Benjamin could see a never ending line of blue wisps, being hand-sorted by armless gloves into their respective spots. Benjamin couldn't hope to move, and so he drowned in his thoughts.
What were these wisps? This place that I'm in? Those weird gloves? What are they? Benjamin had little choice but to ponder. The Gloved Hands moving closer and closer to his position. Now the nerveousness was kicking in, would he go to heaven or hell?
But, to his surprised, the gloved hands never tried to interact with him at all, shocking Benjamin for the umpteenth time. Did they make a mistake, or was it intentional? Who could know the thought process of literal limbs? Certantly not Benjamin.
Finally, after every single soul has been sorted out, the hands approached Benjamin. However, they stopped right infront of him, circling around the green wisp that was Benjamin. Eventually they placed themselves infront of the dumbfounded wisp, seemingly deciding on something.
Both hands then did a ripping motion as space itself split apart, revealing an oval of colors, from blue to purple to orange, you think it, they were there. The Gloved Hands then grabbed Benjamin and shoved him through the portal, waving 'bye bye' at the green wisp.
Benjamin was immediately struck with high-speed movement as the colors seem to dash behind him. The colors noticeably getting faster and faster. Was he getting faster? The Immortal Spirit thought as he shook. Yes, he shook, and that shake was all he needed to go off course and break through the infinite wall (or I guess tube?) of colors surrounding him. The speed still carrying on.
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In Muken.
The Genius Mastermind himself was sitting in his prison. A chair, being immobile lest someone from the outside tampered with it. Aizen already has Transcended long ago, fusing with his Zanpakutō to create a being of mass illusion.
It was his...'something'th day in Muken, he never bothered counting, only focusing on eventuality. He'll get out, he always did when faced with these situations...or so he thought.
A Green Wisp going massively faster than the speed of light collided with Aizen, immediately starting a battle on who can keep the body. Aizen easily overpowered the wisp, but it refused to die.
Every day, it attempted to gain control of his body. The Foreign Soul growing stronger in it's attempts day by day. Aizen's plan was already finished, he didn't mind perishing. But having something take over his body? An insult.
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