A/N: First of all I would like to let you know, that this fic is a translation of my story with the same title "Shadowgear" from Polish. I'm not a translator, my English is limited, so please understand. In connection with the complexities of language, certainly not everything will be translated in a way that will suit me. And certainly the story loses on its value by my inadequate knowledge of the language. If there is someone who would like to help develop the text, please contact me.

And so…

Welcome to my first in years fanfic, that knocked in my sick mind for some time. My last fascination with "Fairy Tail" and my overall mental disorder meant that this story is not for sensitive people. Patched M for a great deal of cursing and violent scenes. My twisted sense of humor and a general inability to write about weak women, caused the main character to be OOC. The world is a mix of modern and old, generally it's a AU.

PS. Convergence are intended (smuggled) and taken from various books and serials.

Fairy Tail and its characters belong to the big troll, Hiro Mashima.

The water splashed from side to side, soaking his shoes and trousers as he ran another dark alley ahead. Turning the next corner he fell right into the overflowing metal garbage cans, knocking around some soggy boxes as he landed on his back. The black tube, which he held tightly in his hands rolled a few meters away from him. By the sound of the falling rain he could hear the sound of running feet and an engine approaching him. He sprang up from the ground and grabbed his treasure. He just started to run away, when from the opposite alley a figure in black came, passed him in the blink of an eye pulling out two guns from the holsters on his thighs and ran into the alley that he had just fled, not sparing him any attention. After a while shots rang out, shouts and screams of the wounded. Gajeel didn't thought long and moved as quickly as possible in the opposite direction. Not that he usually avoided such situations. In most cases, he was the source of the misfortunes of others. As the right hand of Jose, he was responsible for punishing people who somehow displeased him. He earned a name for himself in the Underworld, with fists fought his way to the top of the hierarchy. Being an absolute bastard has gained him the respect of people in Phantom Lord and publicity, which in other circumstances would fill him with incredible pride, but at this point only worsen the situation.

Jose picked the perfect time to play on it. His growing popularity was not helping the boss in carrying out his work. Jose increasingly heard voices of opposition from his subordinates and murmurs behind his back, when they sat in their hideout planning another robbery. And Gajeel alone added fuel to the fire saying one time too much. He couldn't otherwise. He always said what he thought. And as he thought that Jose was the biggest shithead lately, trying to dig out of Fairy Tail, he told him that bluntly at the first opportunity when the boss had annoyed him.

He had to admit, the bastard kept a cool head. He didn't kill him immediately, not at all. With a broad smile on his face he said that Gajeel better go to bed, because he does not know what he says wearily. His eyes, however, remained cool and said something completely different, and Gajeel had long since learned to read them like an open book. This was a factor that allowed him to survive, a skill that now came somehow not really in handy. Why today, for all the gods, he could not shut up and let everything go pass him as usual?

Deep down he knew why.

He had had enough.

Enough of this stupid competition, these scuffles with Makarova; enough of the eternal association of Jose and his bullshit, which recently stung his nerves to the limit; enough senseless fist slamming for money; enough accidentally encountered women each of which turned out to be the same as the previous one. And it suddenly occurred to him that his life has lost the spark that he has felt before every action, before every fight and before any woman. Days merged into weeks and then into months and years, and he only now noticed with consternation that it was a meaningless live.

In this cold and dark alley as he escaped a whole bunch of Jose men, he felt again the spark going down his spine and kicking somewhere in the bottom of his belly. He could not help but grin as he ran further ahead. The black tube slung over his back, so this time it didn't fell out of his hands. This was another reason for his current situation - blueprints of a new car model, which he had stolen from Shadowgear a week earlier.

Resolutely, after Jose suggestions, he left quickly their hiding place, knowing that he will not have much time to run away and hide somewhere until the whole thing would die down. But he knew that he had to do one more thing. As fast as he could, he rounded the brick building, which in its heydays was a warehouse and climbed the drainpipe to the first floor, directly to one of the abandoned rooms. He went to the door on the opposite wall leading to the offices used by Jose and in the corner of the room he found a safe that the boss held the most important things. The murmur behind him told him to quickly turn around. With the gun ready to fire he saw in the corner of the room Juvia partially hidden in the shade. She walked a step forward so he could see her face and her long blue hair and gave him a black tube.

"Your motor is standing at the pharmacy three blocks toward the center," she said, when he took the long package from her and then she disappeared again in the shadows.

Gajeel only nodded his head and walked to the window. There was no time to think. He was never the type who decided for too long. He put his gun back into his holster and jumped ahead, straight into a metal garbage can lid. Unfortunately, the surrounding noise scared cats and lured the first guys looking for him. So he got to his feet, grabbed his new treasure more firmly and ran as fast as he could.

The tube on the back rattled softly, light as for the importance of their information. He saw only part of the project, the rest was written in a strange language, full of stamps and symbols, incomprehensible for him concepts and runs. He will have to somehow figure it out…

Passing the next crossroad and diving for another alley he heard the roar of a engine behind him. He didn't waste time looking back, only further accelerated. However, the driver overtook him and stopped the machine several meters in front of him, blocking the escape route. Gajeel stopped and faced the enemy. He noticed with astonishment that it was a woman. Small and petite, in addition dressed in black with empty holsters strapped to each thigh. When she descended from the machine and pulled the goggles from her eyes, Gajeel unconsciously swallowed. She was lovely. Her pink hair was up in a ponytail, and her nose and ears glittered with earrings. Black clothes clung to her small body and, oh gods, she just lit a cigarette.

"You inspire my inner serial killer," he heard her voice when she blew clouds of gray smoke into the sky.

Gajeel woke up from a momentary daze and shot her a crooked smile, listening to the noises around. He did not hear the screams of the chase and patter of feet and splashed water from puddles behind him. General sounds of the city merge into one another; the occasional sound of cars in the distance, slamming windows or doors, mewling cats and bell trams. He came to an absurd idea that it was the weakling standing before him now, who passed him awhile ago, when she ran with two pistols in an alley full of Jose men chasing him. But it couldn't happen, right?

"You do not say, smallass", he said, with his right hand slowly reaching for his holster and his eyes on the woman in front of him.

"Small is only your dick," she said without batting an eye. "I'm limited edition. And hold your hands so I can see them, you could get hurt."

He laughed out loud, even though he knew he shouldn't. But he couldn't stop himself, an almost panicky spasm tried to make his way from his throat, adrenaline and fear from the last moments finally gave itself in. He needed to calm down, kick this little shits ass and run away. He looked back at her, as she was smoking the end of the cigarette. When she threw the butt on the ground and tried to tread it, he rushed quickly to her pulling a pistol from his holster.

But she was ready. She threw herself under his left arm before he pulled his gun, pushed him with all her strength with her left elbow in the ribs so that he lost his balance and flew straight on her bike. He turn around and aimed the gun directly at her face, but she grabbed his wrist, twisted it with amazing force, and after a while he felt his body moving, making an overthrow and he hit hard on the wet asphalt with his back (he recorded that the black tube on his back bursted with a loud bang), her knee stuck in his throat and his right arm, further twisted mercilessly, was held with all the weight of her body to the ground. After a while the woman released him and sat on his chest. Gajeel was too stunned by the fall and black dots before his eyes and just stared for a moment, still not able to believe what happened. The woman leaned over him and his nostrils caught the smell of cigarettes. There was another, different, strange smell that he could not locate …

Fucking hell! He slapped himself mentally in the face. He needed to finish this little shit and run.

"Too much for you?," she said with a smirk.

Without further ado he grabbed her by the hips and threw from his chest. She, however, rolled up quickly and stood on her feet. She held his gun in one hand, which he dropped when she twisted his hand. He watched how the small woman empties with skill the pistol, ejects the rod with the spire and with a quiet "oops" throws everything behind her.

"It stopped being fun, shortass." he said through gritted teeth.

He wasn't smiling and stopped playing the amused guy. It was time for handling this case serious. In his world, there was no place for such stalking. You had to be constantly vigilant, because every weakness, every gap in the defense gave the enemy a chance for a blow. He just gave an excellent example how to let his guard down, underestimating the enemy. And he will not make that mistake again.

"Limited edition," she said, pulling two long knives from her boots.

She also stopped smiling, but watchful eyes began to observe his motion. When he moved to the right, she moved to the left. She tried to distract him; for one of his every step, she did two or three at irregular intervals and her wrist shook mills with the knives. Fucking hell, she was good.

"I don't want to do anything to you," she said suddenly, without ceasing to circulate. "Makarov sends his regards and an invitation. I want only the papers."

"Forget it," he growled in response "Without them I'm dead."

"With them you could be too," she said.

Gajeel snorted. She used that moment to throw one blade to his throat, and the other to his right side. He stepped back to avoid the first knife, but with the second he was not so lucky. The knife cut the sleeve of his jacket and cut the skin of the forearm, splitting it almost to the elbow. Before he could even blink, she pressed him a kick in the knee that brought him to her level, and then pushed him in the chest. He once again landed in a puddle, hitting his head hard on the pavement. The world began to blur, all sensible thoughts running away from his mind. He registered only that the little pink haired woman was leaning over him, cursing like a well educaded sailor.

A/N: End here we are, at the end of this chapter.

Write me if I made any big mistakes with spelling, grammar and words. I would love to know what do you think about this story or if I should write more, or just crawl back in me little hole. Keep in mind that his is a translation. Thank you for reading and hopeful till next time.