edited 1/12/2017
~Lyrics are from Problems by Lil Peep.~
/
hold on to my revolver
they ain't looking for you
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THE TROPICS ALWAYS SET HIS SKIN ON EDGE.
The dry heat scorches his body, the humidity sends his mind into overdrive. The cold is where he thrives — the biting snow and gales keep him from wandering astray. Gray huffs and slings the assault rifle further over his shoulder, opening his eyes to the sinfully clear and bright sky.
He misses the rain.
The very thought burns him. The rain is depressing and a constant reminder of just how much he has fucked up his life to the point where he currently stands
(but then he is struck with the image of a girl raising her head to the sunless sky with a watery smile and kind eyes, and all his previous objections freeze on his lips).
And, despite the fact her hair hangs in dripping tangles in his memories, she resembles a mourning angel born from the adversaries of his mistakes.
He is going to kill her.
The life he leads is much too risk-prone and dangerous; one false move and she will be nothing but a distant memory reflected back in his tired eyes whenever he stares at his worn face through a mirror.
God, does he fucking hate her—
but god, he can't leave her.
"Hey, Fullbuster! Get your head in the game!"
He scowls at Buraiya and leans further back against the concrete wall behind him. Bora, some pompous minion of Jose's, waves wildly with his hands at the bulky men pushing large shipping crates to the dock. Inside the metal shells lay tonnes upon tonnes of cocaine — the drug that could end internal wars and bring a smile to his own frozen lips.
"So, lover boy," Jerome has sidled up next to him, nose scrunched as the smoke from Gray's cheap cigarette cloaks him in a poisonous fog."You must be doing good for Jose to want to meet with you."
Jerome's words freeze Gray in his place, cigarette halfway up to his mouth. "What?"
"Comms tent, right now. Jose wants a video conference with you. Alone."
Before he can sprint into the cover of the jungle Jerome has him held fast by the gun strap crossed over his shoulder. Gray fights against the bastard's hold, spits curses and threats. He can walk by his damned self; he doesn't need some egotistic faggot bodily dragging him to comms. He isn't afraid of Jose or what he'll hear—
(he is deathly afraid of what he might see).
Jerome unceremoniously dumps him in the tent's entry and stomps away like a miffed child. Gray hisses a curse under his breath and stands, dusting the sandy soil from his sweat-slicked skin. A beat-up rugged laptop awaits him on the conference desk, and Jose's sick grin and twisted eyes light up the screen.
"Ah, Gray. Just the man I wanted…"
Gray scowls and walks over to the desk, refusing to sit in the chair awaiting him. "What the hell do you want? I followed your damned orders—what the fuck else do I need to do?"
"Now, Gray, is that any way to treat the man in control of every aspect of your life? Hmm?"
He cannot argue back because the damned bastard is fucking right, and the thought makes Gray's skin crawl in the implications depicted in Jose's manic grin. Instead, he remains silent, staring at the screen with as much malice as possible. He will obey but dammit he will not go quietly.
"You've always been such a troublesome child," Jose drawls. "But I have long since come to the realisation that there is no taming that rebel in you."
"Your point is what, exactly?"
"You have done good work for me," Jose states, and Gray senses that the conversation is rapidly spiralling into dangerous territory. "However, I am afraid I am not done with you quite yet."
"What do I need to do this time?"
"Oh, nothing life-threatening per say. I just need you to ensure that the cartel relocation goes smoothly with no incidents. Once you have arrived in Hargeon leave everything in the hands of Arlock; he will be waiting at the dock. After that, I have a special task that only you can do."
The sneer twisting Jose's lips and the gleam in his eyes tell of destruction and sins, and Gray wonders if the bargain he struck with the man was worth all the blood on his hands. "What's the task?"
"Meet with the Balam Alliance on Tenroujima. There is word that Zeref was spotted there two weeks ago, and data collected from drones sent by Grimoire Heart suggest he hasn't moved from his position. There are fears he may be dead, a rather alarming deduction indeed. Your job is to oversee the retrieval while simultaneously keeping an eye on those under the Alliance. I have a…plan, if you will."
Gray's fists clench by his side, exhaustion pooling in his limbs. "I'll do it," he seethes, "but I refuse to have any part in that grand plan of yours, got it?"
Jose barks a laugh. "There is no need for you after this. I have my most elite reassembled and prepared for the happenings on Tenroujima. All you need to do is keep me posted and do your job, understand?"
Gray nods stiffly, raking a hand through his dishevelled hair. "The deal was that I would be done after this. I will hold you to that."
"Oh, I know you will. However, it seems I've thought ahead of you once again. I have my own bargaining chip, you see."
Unease coils in his stomach like a spring, but he refuses to show it to the conniving man on the screen. "There is nothing you can use against me. I have no ties to anything."
The lie stings his tongue, slices his skin with its sin. There is all but one person left in his life—
and she is no stranger to the dealings of their kind. She knows more about the untruths in his scathing voice than even he does; she who can wash away the blood on his hands with her crystalline tears. The woman that could render him speechless, the woman who could leave him motionless with her adoring gaze.
The woman of the pale and of the rain.
The unease is now a ravaging serpent with razor-sharp fangs tearing his innards apart. He tries to reign the emotions in—
because dammit, he is Gray Fullbuster. He does not get caught like a deer in the headlights. He can kill without so much as a blink. He is devoid of any warmth — a man carved from stone and death-inflicting glaciers.
"Beautiful, isn't she? I must thank you. Had it not been for you, I would have never got my Rain Woman back."
And his worst fears are true.
Because, standing just a few metres away from Jose is Juvia, armed to the tooth and shooting at targets in the rain. Jose further manipulates the camera so Gray can see the side of her pale face, and he finds himself gazing upon her image on the screen in barely contained horror.
The only thing left of his Pale Lady is the ever-present rain cloaking her.
The steel in her eyes, the line of her lips, set of her jaw—
it is all so wrong.
What the fuck had he done to her?
"No," he hisses. "How fucking dare you drag her into this?"
Jose chuckles, and a click is heard through the small speakers of the laptop. The sound is familiar — a gun reloading. A handgun is aimed at her unsuspecting back, safety off and ready to fire. Gray's muscles tense as he strains to hold himself in place. There is nothing he can do, fucking nothing at all.
"You will listen to me, Gray. Otherwise, I will kill her. Understood?"
"Yes, just fucking put that thing away. Now."
"As you wish."
The gun is put away and Gray feels as if he can finally breathe again. His eyes bore into Jose's through the camera, the stormy blue of his irises swirling with rage. "This wasn't part of the deal. There was no need to involve her."
"I call the shots now, Gray. I suggest you refrain from demands like that— after all, her life is in your hands."
Before he can retaliate the screen turns black and Juvia is gone, as is Jose. Gray cannot stop himself even if he tried—
he pulls the rifle from his shoulder and sprays bullets into the phantom image of Jose left on the dark screen until he is left with no ammo, but even that doesn't stop him. He rams the butt of the gun into the laptop over and over again, his barely controlled rage causing his entire body to tremble.
There is no thrill, no rush.
No relief.
As long as she is in the clutches of the man who smiles behind the sight of a gun, there will be no other thought in his mind. Gray was responsible for her, he left to save her from himself. And yet there she fucking was, caught in the middle of his shit again. There is no escape from the adversaries of his past, it seems.
He has forever been surrounded by death and darkness, after all.
(But god he is going to save her—
even if there is nothing left of her to save).
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take what the devil offers
i got nothing to lose
