Overhead was a ceiling the same colour green as mashed peas. It was ugly. Bright, too, despite the fact that the only light was the streetlights coming through the windows and the single fluorescent tube overhead.
There was a water stain there where the vinyl ceiling tiles clicked together. Gray stared at it and adjusted to his surroundings.
He was in the hospital.
Because…
Because he'd been shot in the stomach.
He waited to feel pain but didn't, oddly. He poked the area and still felt nothing.
Am I dead? Or, perhaps worse, had he been in the hospital for so long, unconscious, that he had healed?
"You've been visited by a healer," said a familiar and smoky voice.
His heart was pounding. Gray lifted his head. "Miss Belserion."
She stepped into the room and her smile became clear. "Mister Fullbuster."
Gray didn't know what else to say so he said nothing while she crossed to his side and sat directly on the bed. She smelled like cloves and iron and leaned in to adjust the pillow beneath his head. "We have some things to talk about."
"We do?" Gray wasn't sure if ignorance was going to work for him.
She held up her finger. Her nail was long and red and curling. "My necklace, for one thing. I should like it back. It was a gift."
Like he couldn't help himself, Gray blurted, "It's in evidence."
"So you'll remove it." She left very little room for argument on the matter. "And I'd like you to burn that file your chief kept on me before his office is gone through."
"What? Why would it be—"
"He had an accident," she said simply.
Gray's heart squeezed harder.
"First, though, before any of that, I'm going to need you to go to Mister Gaebolg's property on Vesper Avenue. You know the one?"
"The leather shop?"
"Yes, exactly. I imagine there will be quite a bit of carnage by the time you arrive, but once you're there, you'll find the true murderer, the one that's been," she mimed slicing at her throat. "He'll confess to you. Arrest him and put this case to bed, it's over."
"But—"
Brightly, she said, "Do all of that for me and I'll forget that Ultear said such awful things about me."
Gray started to sit up. She grabbed his throat and pressed her thumb in, blocking off his air. "There are a handful of other policemen that will do this if you choose to not, ones that don't know my secret, that I wouldn't have to depend upon to keep silent. What you're getting here, right now, is a chance, Mister Fullbuster, on account of the history you and Erza share and the difficult days Erza has ahead of her. Don't fuck up."
Gray croaked, "You're asking me to arrest an innocent man—"
"He's many things but innocent isn't one of them. Do your job. Hurry now, or the party will be finished before you have a chance to arrive." She stood and left, passing by a frazzled-looking Bacchus appearing at the door.
"Miss Belserion," he spat out. She didn't acknowledge him. Bacchus watched her drift down the hallway until he couldn't see her anymore, then brought his attention to Gray. "Are you alive?"
"What do you think?" Gray sat up and started pulling IV lines out of his arms.
"Woah, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"We have to get to Precht's building on Vesper. Now."
"You can't go anywhere, you just had a slug taken out of your gut—"
Gray pulled at the bandage on his side. Bacchus looked horrified until he saw the pale skin beneath, with only a scar to mark the damage.
"What the fuck?"
"Healer," he said.
"Why'd you get a visit from a healer when I got a shitty cast, huh?"
He didn't have any answers. "Are you good to come or should I just go?"
"By yourself?" Bacchus asked. "No. I'm coming. Are you going to explain what the hell we're doing, though?"
Gladly. He didn't want to be the only one carrying the weight of this decision.
Just when Laxus had gotten used enough to the cold wall behind his back to close his eyes and drift asleep, the metal door squealed open and someone was shoved inside the small room Precht deemed acceptable for his winner.
Laxus peeked between his lashes and identified Ultear on the floor. Half of her hair was glossy and wet with blood, the other looked dusty, and her clothes were soiled in much the same way.
Ultear pushed herself up on her forearms and yelled at the man that had thrown her in. "Fuck yourself. You're going to hell. I'm going to take your fucking eyes from your head and—"
The door slammed, making her threats useless.
"Fuck."
"Easy, eh? My head's splitting."
Ultear sat her butt flat on the floor and folded her legs out to the side so she almost looked like a frog. Or a kid, lost. She pressed at her temples. "Shit."
"You're looking rough."
Ultear looked at him. "Fuck off, Laxus."
"What happened?"
"Stupid Jellal. I told him not to send the Den after me but he didn't fucking listen, and our car was run off the fucking road."
"And Daddy brought you here."
She huffed. "Obviously."
"Crossing Precht was bad news," Laxus muttered. "I told Jellal that."
"When has Jellal ever done anything any way but the way he wants?" Ultear asked.
"When you tell him not to."
She frowned. "That's not true."
"Yeah, it is. He trusts your judgement. When you didn't tell him busting into Sentence Six was a bad idea, he got it in his head that this would work." They both knew it to be true. "Why did you go along with it?"
Ultear sighed from her nose but was otherwise silent.
"No sense in lying," Laxus told her. "Not when we're about to meet our makers."
She said, "I guess because the other option was worse."
"Yeah?"
"I saw something I wasn't supposed to one night when I was walking back from Meredy's. I'm there passing Lucky's, minding my own business and this guy gets his head cut off."
"You saw the killer?"
"Oh, yeah, Eileen fucking Belserion and her fucking sword."
"The Sorceress?"
Ultear snorted. "Sure. The Sorceress."
"She didn't try to kill you for spotting her?"
Ultear shook her head. "My father told her not to bother, that I'd be more useful alive. I think he liked the idea of having me on a short chain after I left and started working for Jellal."
"You should have said something."
"Yeah? If I said something to Jellal, he'd act and they'd know it was me. Guess what happens to Ultear if he didn't come out on top?"
"Looking out for number one, eh?"
"I thought you'd appreciate that, Laxus," Ultear said.
He did, for sure, though it was looking like they'd both chosen the wrong routes to ensure they didn't get burned.
Ultear said, "I tried to lead Gray to the prize but… Well. Here we are."
The door opened and Precht came through with a nurse who had a torch, a shaver, and a long piece of metal. "Yes, here you are. I told you, Ultear, if you're going to try to play long games, make sure you have your game pieces set up beforehand, otherwise, nothing works out the way you planned."
Ultear ignored his advice, eyes on the metal poker. "The fuck is that for?"
"To cauterize your wound," he told her.
"Pardon?" Ultear spat.
"It hasn't stopped bleeding. How are you going to fight if you can't stand for blood loss?"
"You want me to fight?"
He laughed. "Why else would you be in here?"
Laxus saw where this was going well before Ultear did, whether because of her head injury or because she didn't want to believe it. "No."
"Yes, Mister Dreyar."
Ultear looked back over her shoulder and glared at Laxus, catching on. "Him? You want me to fight him?"
"Yes. Win and you get a bullet and not a rat in a heated cage on your belly."
"What?" Ultear asked again.
Precht's good eye glowed. "I hadn't heard of it either but my dear friend Acnologia told me of it the other evening over a bottle of scotch. It's simple. You lie supine, strapped down on a table, I put a rat in a cage here," he tapped his middle. "And then I take my torch," which he grabbed from the nurse and sparked to life, "And heat the metal until the rat is dying to get out. There will be only one opening in the cage, though, and that will be into your belly. It'll gnaw its way through."
Ultear looked at him blankly. "Are you serious?"
"Yes. I imagine it's painful. An excellent deterrent for traitors. To be honest, the thought even makes me a little squeamish, which is why you have the chance of winning a bullet if you win your fight." He said it like he was benevolent.
"Forget it," Laxus said. "We're not getting in the ring together. Give me someone else."
"If you won't fight, you'll definitely die. Ultear won't hold back, will you?"
Ultear refused to meet his eye. Laxus sighed and put his head back against the wall. "You're a sick fuck, Precht."
"Men of grand ambition have been called such names all throughout history." Precht waved the nurse forward. Laxus closed his eyes against the blue glow of the torch fire hitting the end of the steel poker. He heard Ultear stagger to her feet.
"You're not coming near me with that."
"It's for your own benefit," Precht said reasonably.
"No."
"If you won't cooperate, you'll be forced."
"No," Ultear reiterated.
"Bluenote," Precht called and the door opened.
Laxus peeked between his lashes, unable to help himself. Bluenote stalked Ultear like a predator, faster than she could hope to be as she was. He caught her up against the wall and pinned her there for the nurse to come forward with the razor and the poker. Large chunks of her hair fell away. Ultear started writhing. When that didn't work, she screamed. The sound rang off the concrete walls and made Laxus' ears hurt.
Burning hair and cauterizing flesh and blood met Laxus' nose. He breathed shallowly. Ultear's screams petered away for crying and when the nurse was done, Bluenote stepped away and she fell to the floor where she was, glassy-eyed, wet-cheeked, and dazed. A large part of her hair was cut out and the flesh beneath was charred closed.
"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Precht said.
"So soon?" Laxus asked.
"Why waste time? I'd like this matter dealt with as promptly as possible."
Precht reached for the door; Laxus stopped him. "You promised me breakfast, too, if I beat Kane."
Precht glared before leaving, the door slamming behind him and his entourage.
After a moment of silence, Laxus took the cigarettes and whisky Precht had given him and gave them to Ultear. She stared at his offer for a long time. Laxus scooted over and put the bottle in her hand. Only then did she tighten her hold and sip from the elongated glass neck.
Laxus lit a cigarette for himself and inhaled deeply. "Can you even stand?"
"Not if I keep drinking whisky," Ultear muttered and took another deep swig.
Or even before that, he'd bet. She looked haggard in a way Ultear never did. "I'm going to destroy you in that ring."
That earned Laxus a spiteful look.
"It's just biology," he told her. "I'm bigger than you."
"Thought you didn't want to fight me?"
"I want to get my guts eaten by a rat even less."
"That makes both of us."
"So we're going to go down swinging."
"Do you see another option?" Ultear asked.
"Guess not."
He pushed his cigarette at her. Ultear took it from his hand and didn't show any signs of returning it. He lit another and let his eyes slide closed again.
Laxus couldn't say how long passed when the door reopened and Rusty came through with a tray of food. He dropped it on the ground in front of Laxus and said, "Consider that your last meal."
"Thanks."
Rusty left again.
"I can't stand the smell of that food right now," Ultear complained.
"I guess then I don't have to feel bad about not sharing." Laxus lifted the steel cover his plate was hidden beneath and dropped it again just as fast.
Ultear turned her head and cracked her bleary eyes. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"Slipped out of my hand," Laxus informed her. Ultear shook her head and went back to pseudo-sleeping. "Hurry up and eat so I don't have to smell it."
He lifted the lid again, more carefully this time.
Jellal knew when Zeref passed on the news of Sting because the skies opened up in a torrent of rain that could be heard through the walls of Halo.
"The skies were clear," Erza protested.
"Juvia," Jellal said. "She's upset."
Erza began to pace. Jellal watched her and schemed for several long moments. Finally, Erza asked, "When do we leave?"
"As soon as Zeref comes through that door and tells me he's ready to go," Jellal told her, and tagged on, "You don't have to come."
"Of course, I don't." She made a circle and came back around again. "But what else am I going to do? Sit here and wonder what's happening? I'll go mad."
"Have you thought any more about your mother?"
She came to a halt and propped her hands on her hips. "That's all I've thought about. What am I supposed to do, though, tell the police so they can arrest her?" She gnawed on her lip. "God. What if Briggs told other people, too? What if there are men out there right now looking for her? What if she's getting arrested?" And worse, "What if she's killing them?"
"Chief Briggs was the kind of man that kept his secrets secret until he knew what he was dealing with," Jellal told her. "It's likely that he found the file and worked on his suspicions in private."
She looked so relieved that she could cry again. Then she looked disgusted with herself. She yelled in frustration and started pacing again.
"Another whisky?" Jellal offered.
Erza spun on him so fast, he thought she was going to get violent but she snatched his glass from his hand and drank it back. "Easy," Jellal told her. "If you want to come with us, you should be at least a bit sober."
"Then don't offer me booze." Erza dropped the empty glass to the table again and shook her hair back from her shoulders. "Okay. Tell me again. All of it."
"We've gone through it a hundred times, Erza," Jellal said. "You know the plan well enough."
"I know but—"
"Everything will be fine."
"And if it's not?"
"You have all the advantage," Jellal said. "Your immune on all sides. If Precht gets the upper hand, your mother will ensure nothing happens to you, and if I do, it'll be the same."
She still looked agitated. Jellal went to her and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Do you want to go to my villa? I can come for you when this is over."
"Come with me," she said automatically. It seemed she'd had time to get used to the idea of leaving Magnolia. Jellal laughed; Erza scowled. "What's so funny?"
"Think, I can have everything I want, I just have to give up everything I have."
Erza gripped his fingers hard. "It's not so bad, once you've done it."
"Spoken like someone who's never been as greedy as I have."
She turned away from him and started pacing again. The second time she came by, Jellal grabbed her wrist and pulled her in. He kissed her and was still kissing her when his door opened and Zeref came through.
"We're ready," Zeref said with little preamble. Jellal looked at him over Erza's shoulder.
"Juvia and Rogue are alright?"
"Angry," Zeref said.
"Good. Get downstairs and get guns, and whatever else you think we need."
Zeref left; the door closed behind him. Jellal leaned back so he could look at Erza directly. "I changed my mind."
"About what?" Erza asked.
"I'm going to send you with Zeref."
"Why?"
"Because I trust you."
"You think he's planning something?"
"I think Zeref's always planning something," Jellal said.
"Why?"
"He hasn't really been himself lately." Too docile. Taking things on the chin too readily. Wendy's waywardness, Sting's death. Natsu's recent stint in the hospital. The old Zeref wouldn't have waited for Jellal's plan. Nor would he have let Jellal call the shots. He would have rushed in there with guns blazing and taken his brother back without all of the rigmarole.
"Don't let him get the jump on you. If he tries anything…" He tried to choose his words carefully, not wanting to scare her away.
"I'll do what I have to."
"Right." He kissed her and touched her, too. It seemed the shorter his time ran, the more he wanted to stay right there as they were. "We put those tickets under Scarlet, right?"
Erza squeezed his shoulders. "Are you reconsidering my offer?"
"To have you like this for a little longer, I would consider a great many things."
She wriggled out of his grasp and got a few feet between them. "Don't joke."
Jellal looked away from her body and straightened his tie, then he willed his erection away. "You're right, I suppose. It's show time."
Erza turned on her heel without any other provocation. Jellal fell into step behind her and watched her while she walked. She fixed her hair, smoothed her suit jacket, checked her gun and by the time she was done, she seemed to be much more relaxed, despite the situation.
He wasn't sure she could run away for some quiet life in his villa, she'd always been in the middle of the action, had craved it. Maybe she could do it for some time, but eventually, she'd go searching for trouble again, as was her way.
Jellal stepped out in front of her and grabbed the door to the basement. With it opened, dank air laden with the scent of gun oil drifted up. Erza hesitated at the top of the dark stairway like this was the point of no return. He took her hand and led her down.
The fluorescent lights were on and the voices from the Den's members drifted up from below. Most clearly was Angel's saying, "If Lucy's going, I want to go with you, too."
"You can't, Angel."
"Yes—"
"No, and don't make me tell you why."
Angel grunted, frustrated. "I hate this."
Zeref's voice dropped to a tone Jellal rarely heard from him. Soft, pleading. "Just stay here, you and the baby. We'll be back before you know it and everything will be fine."
Angel was pregnant.
The unease Jellal felt grew. There was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man with everything to lose.
He peeped under the line of the ceiling and saw Zeref and Angel standing toe-to-toe in front a crate of Tommy's. To Angel's side was Natsu, Lucy and Wendy and behind her was Rogue. Juvia wasn't anywhere to be seen but Jellal could hear her rifling through bullets.
Everyone seemed very involved in what they were doing. At the bottom of the stairs, when still no one had noticed his presence, Jellal lifted his voice to carry through the storage room. "Should you be down here, Angel?"
All eyes turned his way. Angel, ever argumentative, answered. "Should you be minding your own business, Jellal?"
"I'm just worried about you. How are you going to get back up?" It was an honest concern.
Angel's cheeks went red with fury and Jellal wondered if she was about to try to tear Halo apart with those creatures she called angels.
"I'm going to take her," Wendy said.
"And stay with her," Zeref added.
Though she'd armed herself like she was going along, guns stuck into her suspenders, knives in the waistband of her pants, Wendy knew better than to challenge Zeref's decree. Jellal, however, was not as concerned.
"You surprise me, Zeref, I would have thought you'd send her with Natsu."
Zeref responded, "She's tired."
"Too tired to make sure Natsu's doing fine?"
Zeref stared at him deprecatingly. "She's my only healer. I want her safe. Go on, Wendy."
Wendy took Angel's forearm and put it over her shoulder. "No grievers," she told Zeref.
"No grievers." Zeref looked at Angel, clearly expecting her to say the same. She leaned forward and put a kiss on his cheek in response.
Juvia finally emerged from the crates. Her cheeks and nose were red from tears but her voice was strong. "Say it back. It's bad luck."
"This shitty job is bad luck. We'd all be better off if we just let things be." Angel made sure to look at Jellal on the last. Was that a warning in her voice? He could never be sure with Angel; she was a hard girl to get a read on.
Natsu hugged her briefly around the shoulders and despite her displeasure, said, "No grievers."
"Fuck off." Angel pushed him away. Wendy caught her before she could teeter off balance and guided her upstairs.
"Forget about her," Zeref told Natsu. "Just focus."
"Yeah," Natsu agreed, though he looked ruffled.
"Your head's good?"
"Fine."
While they spoke, Jellal grabbed guns out of crates, pistols and rifles. He handed some to Erza and kept some for himself. He loaded up on bullets, too. One couldn't have too much ammunition.
Pockets leaden, he led the way across the room, falling into step beside Zeref. "You'll take Erza, Lucy and Natsu. I'll take Juvia and Rogue."
"I was supposed to go with you," Zeref said.
"Yeah, well I thought about it and it makes more sense to split up the teams like this," Jellal said. "You four take the south entrance and meet up with the other two, me, Juvia and Rogue will go north and find my father."
"You'll want more people than that."
"I think we'll be more than enough."
Zeref searched him like he was looking for subterfuge. Jellal didn't rush him along.
"If things work out for you, I want what's left of Grimoire Heart," Zeref bargained at last, "That includes any side businesses. Sentence Six, Vesper. All of it."
"It's yours," Jellal said. He'd just burn it to the ground.
"And our slate is clean. I owe you nothing. Neither do any of my people."
"We'll be even," Jellal agreed. "Everyone get's a get out of jail free card."
Zeref yanked open the passenger's side door of Jellal's Model 48 and shoved Natsu into the middle; Lucy crawled into his lap. Once they were situated, he got in. Jellal took the driver's seat; Erza and Juvia got into the back while Rogue lifted the rollup door.
Nighttime air rushed into Halo's underground, bringing with it the smell of fresh rain and the sounds of Magnolia. Factories on this side of town with their doors rolled open so the cool air could come in, cars on the highway, laughter reaching them from the entertainment district and, very faintly, the sound of gunfire. Jellal wondered if that was Precht's people taking care of more resistance or if it was something unrelated. It wasn't uncommon for there to be disagreement at the docks.
Jellal pulled out of the garage. Rogue dropped the door. As soon as it hit the ground, a blot of shadow snuck from underneath. Almost faster than they could follow, it caught up with the Model 48 and poured in through the rear window.
Rogue reformed in the backseat between Juvia and Erza. Jellal checked the rear-view to see if Erza was startled but she was looking out the window and doing whatever it was that she did when she was getting ready for some violence.
It was too quiet in the car with only the sound of the road, Lucy's plucking through her keys and Juvia's residual sniffling.
"Music, I think," Jellal said and turned on the radio. It was Johnny Cash baritoning, 'Don't take your guns to town, son.' Jellal let it go on for a minute, then his skin was crawling. "Something more upbeat." It felt stupid and superstitious but Jellal was, at the heart of things, his father's son, and his father was raised in a superstitious culture.
Frank Sinatra Jr. came on singing,
From a tugboat on the river goin' slow
A cement bag, it is dropping down
Yeah, the cement is just for the weight, dear
You can make a large bet Macheath is back in town
The only thing Jellal wanted to do with cement bags was throw them overboard himself.
The music continued.
My man Louie Miller, he split the scene, babe
After drawin' out all the bread from his stash
Now Macheath spends just like a pimp, babe
Do you suppose that our boy, he did something rash?
Jellal decelerated as they turned onto Vesper. "I'll go to the south side first."
Erza checked the guns Jellal had given her and when she was satisfied, she straightened her spine and breathed in and held her breath, then slowly released it again. Lucy's fingers were clenching so hard, they turned white. Natsu grabbed at the cuff of her shirt and tugged it with the beat of the music. Even Zeref seemed disquieted, rubbing his hands on his pants.
Jellal checked the rear-view mirror again to gauge Juvia and Rogue's demeanors. Juvia's eyes were closed and her hands were clenched around a necklace she wore. Though her lips moved silently, Jellal knew she spoke prayers. She clenched Rogue's hand like it was a lifeline. Rogue's jaw was fused shut and there was sweat pricking his brow.
Something was wrong.
Jellal couldn't decide what, though, before the nose of the car dipped and they fell through the road. Lucy's scream was piercing and continued through the several foot drop, stopping only when they hit the ground and smacked into a cement wall at parking lot speeds. The front of the Model 48 bent and the radiator popped and the large, damp hallway they dropped into filled with white puffy smoke that made Jellal want to cough.
"What the hell was that?" Lucy chirruped, though how she spoke with Natsu gripping her so tight, Jellal didn't know.
"The welcome mat." Jellal got out with his gun drawn. The hallway was empty. "The Sorceress is playing with us." And he didn't like it.
Natsu and Lucy exited. "What now?"
"The plan's unchanged," Jellal decided. "You all know your parts."
He took Erza's hand when she got out and pulled her in for an impromptu hug so he could whisper in her ear lowly in her ear. "If you need to shoot Zeref, you'll have to shoot Natsu, too. In that order. Zeref and then Natsu. Understand?" To deviate would be a disaster.
She nodded almost imperceptivity. Jellal squished Erza's face between his palms and kissed her once. Then he focused because he felt like there were eyes on him in the abandoned tunnel.
Despite the thick concrete walls separating the fight rings from the room Precht used as an infirmary, Laxus could hear the raucous calls of Precht's patrons as another fight went on. Judging by the gasps and ooohs, it wasn't a very tasteful one. Each time a voice rose, Laxus' adrenaline would spike. Eventually, it stopped.
Minutes passed. Then the metal door swung open and Precht entered again, a big, fat cigar in his hand and a cruel smile on his face. Two men trailed behind him, both with rifles unashamedly aimed.
"Is it time?" Laxus asked.
"Yes. Come." Precht took Ultear by the bicep and wrenched her up. She dropped an elbow into his gut and wriggled out of his hold. Precht's smile grew. "I hope you changed your mind about fighting, Laxus. She's in a mood."
Without responding, Laxus got up and followed Ultear out, slower. She knew the way without being told, rounding the corner and stepping through the already open doors.
Laxus flexed his aching hands. They were still stained with Kane's blood and would be wet again soon if Precht had his way.
Once the light of the arena touched him, the crowd started roaring. Over that sound, Laxus thought there was a distant bang on the south side of Precht's rings, like the crunching sound of metal. There were so many tunnels and rooms that mazed out from this spot, though, that he couldn't say where it came from or what it meant, not without seeing a clock.
The thoughts fled his mind once he got closer to the ring and saw just what it was that made Precht smile so meanly. There was little Makarov Dreyar, bloodied and battered, sitting right there on the floor in front of the ring. There was someone lying on the ground in front of him, a knife protruding from his chest.
"Your grandfather's opponent," Precht explained.
"You put him in there?" Laxus asked because his brain just wouldn't connect the evidence.
"He came in here demanding your release, Laxus," Precht said. "When I told him no, he tried to shoot me. I thought this would be a fitting end. My old friend is still wily, though. Did you know he still keeps a knife in the sole of his shoe? I didn't even think to check." Precht laughed.
Laxus lunged. His escorts grabbed his arms and hauled him back. When his struggling proved useless, Laxus spat. It hit Precht right in the cheek and slid down to dribble on his shoes. "You're a fucking dead man, you understand? You're dead."
"Win your fight, Mister Dreyar. Then we'll see."
Ultear clambered into the ring. Laxus was pushed in after her. Rusty was there again, asking them both, "Do you understand the rules?"
Laxus pushed him off. He may have said Go but Laxus didn't much hear it.
Ultear lunged. Laxus dodged her and positioned himself in the ring so he could check the clock on the wall. Three-thirty.
Ultear came at him again, swinging. She had a hard right hook that threw Laxus off balance. He fell against the ropes and was afraid that they'd give out and he'd keep going.
Someone on the other side of the ring pushed him forward again and into Ultear's waiting elbow. Her hit landed badly against Laxus' jaw and both of them were in pain.
She recovered and lifted her knee into his middle. Laxus grabbed her leg and shoved her back hard enough that she skidded and fell. Once he was unencumbered, Laxus pulled the gun slipped onto his plate from his pocket and the world went startlingly quiet. Ultear stopped, the crowd paused. Laxus cared about Precht, though, who stood and grabbed Makarov up as well. He took a gun from his holster and laid it to Makarov's temple.
"Clever, Laxus, getting a gun, but those weren't the rules. Give it up now and finish your fight and I won't make you watch him die."
"I can make this shot," Laxus lifted his voice to be heard in the spacious room.
"I'm sure you could. Your grandfather will suffer, though, I have friends that will ensure it. Don't be foolish, now. Get rid of the gun and finish your fight."
Laxus' palms were sweaty. Ultear had gotten back on her feet but she wasn't doing anything, not yet. She was waiting to see what Laxus' next move was.
"Mister Dreyar thinks I'm playing. Go get the cage and the rat. We'll give him some incentive to keep going," Precht told one of the men by his side.
Makarov looked at Laxus and nodded minutely, his meaning clear. Precht thought he could use Makarov as leverage and the Dreyars had never been very agreeable. Laxus hardened his resolve and did what he, at one time, thought himself incapable of doing—pointed his gun and squeezed the trigger and proved Precht wrong.
A/N: This is darker than the first I think, and it was kind of gross to write and didn't flow as well as I had hoped it would but that's the best I can do at this time.
We're coming up on the end (take two). Thanks for double-reading, everyone. In a place like fanfiction where the general reader wants cute fluff, I'm really flattered and appreciative of those that stick around in this dwindling fandom for my gross and at times sloppy storytelling. Merci