Mercer: Between Different Worlds

Bazz-B found himself disoriented, floating in an endless abyss, weightless and alone. There was nothing here—no ground, no walls, no ceiling. Just an oppressive void. His heart raced in confusion, but then something caught his eye—a familiar figure standing in the distance.

"Jugo?" Bazz-B's voice cracked in disbelief. He saw Jugram Haschwalth—his friend, his comrade—standing in the middle of this desolate, featureless space.

"Jugo, wait up!" Bazz-B shouted, pushing himself forward, his feet finding no purchase on the nonexistent ground. He strained to move towards the figure, but something felt wrong.

Jugram wasn't reacting as he should. He wasn't calling out his usual nickname, and there was a hollow, distant look in his eyes.

"Who… who are you?" Jugram's voice came out strained, as if he didn't recognize Bazz-B at all.

Bazz-B's stomach dropped. This isn't right. Jugram wouldn't ask that. What's going on?

He tried again, his voice shaking with urgency. "What? It's me, Bazz!"

But Jugram only repeated, his tone now frantic, "Who? Who? Who?" His words became more incoherent, a disturbing echo in the empty space.

Then, Bazz-B watched in horror as Jugram's body began to distort. His limbs twitch violently, spasming as though possessed by some unseen force. His head jerked unnaturally, rolling back, his eyes turning white as if all life drained from them. His face contorted, muscles and skin warping grotesquely, warts forming along his cheeks as his skin turned a sickly yellow-green.

Bazz-B took a step back, his mind racing. 

What the hell is happening?

But before he could react, Jugram's monstrous form lunged at him. A horrifying, distorted arm grabbed Bazz-B's shoulder, and a voice—faint, familiar but distorted—whispered into his ear, 

"You shall not die on my watch."

Bazz-B couldn't process the words fast enough before the twisted version of Jugram struck.

The impact sent him reeling.

"Gahhhh!!!"

Suddenly, everything shattered. Bazz-B was ripped from the nightmare, his eyes snapping open. He found himself in a dark, sterile room, lights glaring down at him from overhead. A stark operating table restrained him, the straps loose enough that he could break free without much effort.

His breath came in ragged gasps, his body still reeling from the remnants of the nightmare.

He quickly freed himself, collapsing to the cold floor, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory.

The invasion of Soul Society... Jugram's death... Our mission to eliminate Alex Mercer... His heart skipped a beat as the memory hit him: 

Mercer—he killed me. He tore through me, straight through my chest... So how the hell am I still alive?

He quickly examined his body, but there were no open wounds—only dark, angry scars where Mercer's claws had gone through.

"Where the hell am I?" Bazz-B muttered under his breath, panic creeping into his voice. He wasn't dead, so why was he here? The room was unfamiliar. It didn't feel like Schatten Bereich, and it sure as hell wasn't Mayuri's lab. The equipment around him was too basic, too standard—certainly nothing like the high-tech devices that Mayuri would have in his possession.

As he strained his ears, he overheard hushed voices from behind a nearby observation window.

"It's imperative that we should burn this thing to the ground."

"Please, at least I need to gather more data regarding our subject."

Subject? Were they talking about him? Bazz-B's blood ran cold. They think I'm some kind of experiment. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to smash the table into the observation window. He had to stay calm.

Suddenly, the sound of a door lifting echoed in the room, and yellow lights began flashing, followed by a sharp, urgent warning sound. From a side chamber, a horde of mutated creatures emerged. Their limbs were distorted, with blade-like appendages, and their skin was a sickly green, just like the monstrous Jugram from his nightmare.

"What the hell are those things?" Bazz-B muttered under his breath, his mind racing between curiosity, shock, and fear. They're not Hollows... but what the hell are they?

He remembered who he was—a Quincy. A survivor. He wasn't going down without a fight.

"Huh," he scoffed. "At least a little exercise won't hurt."

With that, Bazz-B sprang into action, sidestepping one of the creatures and grabbing it by the head, slamming it into the floor. Its head burst like a crushed melon, and it dissipated into reishi particles. Reishi? He thought, squinting in confusion. What the hell's going on?

Before he could gather his bearings, another creature lunged at him. Bazz-B quickly responded with a flurry of punches and a high kick, sending the creature staggering. But something felt off. He delivered the attack, but the creature flew back with an unnatural

force. That kick wasn't supposed to do that much…

His mind raced, but there was no time to think. He had to survive. More creatures were coming, each more aggressive than the last.

"Whatever. At least I can gather reishi every time I beat you guys into the ground," he muttered to himself, channeling his power as he went on the offensive. Another series of punches, and his boot crushed another creature's skull, but they just kept coming.

A voice in his head screamed Something's wrong—these things aren't dying. What are they?

Then it clicked. His Burner Finger ability—usually enough to disintegrate anything it touched—had done nothing to the creatures. They recovered almost instantly. It was as if they were resistant to Quincy attacks.

"Impossible!" Bazz-B cursed under his breath. "My Burner Finger 3 should've turned them to ash!"

More creatures spilled in from every side. His options were running thin. He was being surrounded.

"Damn it, you're everywhere!" He roared, delivering a flurry of rapid strikes and breaking through the advancing monsters with high-powered kicks. But just when he thought he had a moment's reprieve, the door slammed open again. And this time, a larger, more imposing creature with crimson claws emerged—a beast the size of a man but with a twisted, monstrous appearance. It swung its claws into Bazz-B's face, sending him flying through the door and slamming into the wall, leaving a massive dent.

Bazz-B's world collapsed once again into darkness, a suffocating, endless void. This time, there were no grotesque, mutated horrors waiting to pounce, no monstrous echoes of Jugram or horrifying visions to torment him. Instead, a quiet, oppressive stillness settled over him, amplifying his growing frustration.

"Not again!! OI, JUST LET ME DIE IN PEACE!!" he yelled, his voice cracking in exasperation.

His hands balled into fists as he clenched his jaw, feeling a gnawing sense of helplessness creep in. "I'm done for..."

But then, a crimson light pierced the darkness, glowing faintly in the distance. It flickered like a distant star, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame. Curiosity pushed aside his dread. He needed something to break the monotony, something—anything—to end this nightmare.

He moved toward the light, his footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space until he finally reached its source. It was a strange sight—something otherworldly, almost organic. A womb- like structure made of fleshy, pulsating tendrils. His instincts screamed to turn away, but something drew him in.

Inside, a young woman lay curled up in a fetal position, her shoulder-length hair a dark contrast against the surrounding flesh. Her clothes were simple: a dark sweater and leather pants. She seemed peaceful, yet impossibly fragile in this bizarre, alien space.

Bazz-B's curiosity outweighed his wariness. He reached out and touched the pulsating surface of the womb. But the moment his fingers made contact, something shifted. Tendril- like organisms shot out from the structure, wrapping around his hand with surprising speed.

Before he could react, they pierced his finger with a sharp, searing pain, sending an electrical shock of agony through his body. His breath hitched as the pain lingered far longer than he expected. It was as if the wound was not only physical but spiritual, pulling at something deep within him.

Suddenly, the world around him shifted again. He was no longer in the void. Instead, he found himself bombarded with flashes of distant visions. An empty, desolate place—unknown, unfamiliar—where figures stood, their faces twisted in manic desperation. Slowly, they began mutating, transforming into something monstrous, as if driven by some unseen force.

And then, the scene shifted once more. A subway station. A familiar figure— Mercer —surrounded by armed men. 

Bazz-B's heart skipped as he saw Mercer smash a small vial into the floor before being shot repeatedly. The figure crumpled, collapsing on top of it. The scene shifted again, and Bazz-B was left alone in that same subway, the echoes of Mercer's death still lingering in the air.

"Do you feel like giving up right now?" The voice was unmistakable, but it wasn't coming from anywhere around him. It was Mercer's voice, distorted by the void itself, reverberating in the space.

Bazz-B's hands clenched at his sides. His blood boiled with rage. "Mercer? Little shit, show yourself!!"

But Mercer was nowhere to be found, his voice a distant mockery.

"Do you feel like dying yet?" the voice taunted, dripping with condescension.

Bazz-B growled low in his throat, fury building in his chest. "No, but I feel like I'm gonna rip you apart when I find you."

"And then what?" Mercer's voice floated through the void, cold and unforgiving. "What will that achieve? How many people will you drag just to do that? Will ripping me apart make you feel better?"

A sharp pain lanced through Bazz-B's chest, and a cold realization hit him. The words gnawed at him, breaking through the anger. His chest tightened, his thoughts tumbling over each other, dragging him down.

You're looking for your own grave...

You fucking idiot...

He dropped to his knees, overwhelmed by the crushing weight of his own thoughts. The anguish of the realization hit him full-force. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" he screamed, clutching his head as his body trembled in agony.

Will ripping me apart make you feel better?

His teeth ground together as he fought the rising wave of self-doubt. "No... But somebody has to make you pay for what you did to us."

A new voice—distorted, echoing, and cold—filled the space. "I have already paid enough for my sins before. I'm not afraid to commit another sin once more, even if it means I'll pay for them again. The question is; are you?"

Bazz-B's vision blurred as a shadow loomed over him. He looked up, stunned, to see a twisted version of himself standing before him. His own figure, but distorted, as if the anger, the hatred, and all the darkness he carried had manifested before him.

"The only thing you'll ever fear is yourself," his own distorted voice echoed. "Embrace that, and you'll become unstoppable. Let your hatred against me disappear by the flow of time, and you'll become invincible."

His own figure extended a hand toward him, a sickeningly comforting gesture.

"Do you feel like living yet?"

Bazz-B's mind screamed in rebellion. Let your hatred disappear? Like hell I could after what you did to me...

But then, something deep inside stirred, a flicker of realization. He wasn't just trapped in the past—he had the power to break free. If he wanted to survive this nightmare, he had to keep fighting. 

If I wanted to... then I must live!!

With a determination that had been reignited in the depths of his despair, Bazz-B reached out, his hand trembling as it touched the outstretched one of his distorted self.

In that moment, the light surrounding them exploded, swallowing everything in its wake.

Bazz-B's senses flared as he found himself face-to-face with the giant creature once more, its grotesque, clawed arms raised in the air, clearly prepared to strike. The creature's movements were slow but carried the instinctive menace of an apex predator, the kind that didn't hesitate to eliminate anything in its path.

"You annoying humongous..." Bazz-B muttered under his breath, irritation bubbling up. He wasn't here to deal with something like this—not when he was still reeling from the sheer absurdity of what he'd just gone through.

With a swift motion, he dodged the giant's massive clawed swing, narrowly avoiding being swiped into oblivion. Without a moment's hesitation, Bazz-B retaliated with a dropkick that hit the creature's chest with a resounding thud. The creature staggered back, its monstrous frame barely affected by the attack, but it was enough to put some distance between them.

"Sorry if I showed you something shameful," Bazz-B sneered. "Now bring it."

His eyes blazed a fierce red, his gaze sharpening as he turned his attention to the crowd of walkers now surrounding him. His blood boiled with impatience, and without waiting for their next move, he launched into action.

One of the walkers lunged from behind, but Bazz-B was ready. With a burst of strength, he ripped the creature's sword-like arm off its body, feeling the sudden weight in his hands as he swung it with brutal force. The jagged end collided with the giant's face, tearing through flesh and bone as it let out an agonized scream. The creature writhed in pain, but Bazz-B didn't relent.

"Yes, keep screaming. That's nothing compared to what I'm going to do with you," Bazz-B mocked, his voice low and menacing.

He discarded the severed arm and grabbed hold of the creature's limb, yanking it from its socket. The giant roared in an attempt to shake him off, but Bazz-B held firm, his grip unrelenting. With a grunt, he managed to tear the clawed arm free from its body, feeling a rush of power surge through him. Then, with one mighty leap, he crushed the creature's head beneath the severed arm, the sound of skull cracking beneath the impact ringing in his ears.

Rather than disintegrating into reishi as expected, the creature's body began to disintegrate into a disgusting, organic mush that enveloped Bazz-B, threatening to consume him whole.

He felt the substance surge into him, embedding itself deep into his flesh. His body rejected it at first, but then something within him snapped. The surge of biomass began to merge with his very essence, and Bazz-B felt an unfamiliar strength course through him.

"Nice, but something else is missing," he muttered to himself, his new form pulsing with raw, untamed power. 

Without warning, Bazz-B raised his right clawed arm into the air. A swirling vortex of reishi particles began to gather around him, their pull drawing every scrap of energy in the room toward him. The walkers surrounding him instinctively backed off, unsure of what to expect next.

He stood there, letting the power build up for a moment, eyes narrowed in focus. When the energy reached its peak, he felt a sense of completeness, as if the flood of power had unlocked something new within him. The flames at the tips of his claws ignited, dancing with bright, fiery intensity.

"Now that's more like it," he grinned, satisfied with the new strength.

Bazz-B wasted no time. He dashed forward, the air crackling with the heat of his flames. With vicious swipes of his claws, he tore through the walkers, their bodies disintegrating in bursts of reishi, the flames scorching them to ash in an instant. His claws sliced through anything within reach, leaving scorched, burning corpses in his wake.

But even as more of them fell, the horde seemed endless. Another wave surged forward, and Bazz-B knew he needed something more to deal with them all.

Spotting a tightly packed group, he took a deep breath and drove three of his claws into the ground. The biomass within him surged, and with a violent burst, the ground erupted, impaling the walkers with sharp, fiery spikes. They screamed in agony as they burned from the inside out, consumed by the flames. The eruption of power left the rest of the room in chaos, the walkers disintegrating into reishi before his eyes.

"Now that was handy," he said, letting out a satisfied grunt. "Time to finish this."

He focused all his power into his claws, pointing four of them forward. The claws began to merge and twist, forming a massive sword of fire, complete with an elongated crossguard wrapped around his hand. It was a blade of pure destruction, a fusion of reishi and flame.

"Burner Claw 4."

With one swift motion, he swung the fiery blade through the remaining walkers, slicing them apart with deadly precision. Each slash sent them tumbling into the flames, their bodies splitting in half before disintegrating into reishi once more. He didn't stop until there were no more enemies left standing.

Exhausted, but driven by pure instinct, Bazz-B transformed his arms back to their normal form. 

Using his newfound strength, he lifted the nearby operating table, hurling it toward the window. It crashed through the glass with a loud shatter, but his instincts told him that wasn't enough to get him out. He needed a faster escape.

Activating his hirenkyaku, Bazz-B shot forward and slid through the shattered window, appearing in the observation room. To his surprise, the room was empty. He quickly scanned the surroundings, noticing several monitors displaying unfamiliar inscriptions and notes. The realization hit him: the operating room had been suppressing his ability, limiting his movements and powers.

"Didn't think to try it before," he muttered, almost annoyed at his own oversight. But there was no time to dwell on that. He had a more pressing matter.

He heard heavy footsteps outside the observation room, and his instincts flared. They were waiting for him to emerge, likely preparing to shoot him on sight. But Bazz-B wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

With a snarl, he transformed his arms back into claws and kicked open the door with explosive force.

Let's see what you've got.