"He didn't write the letter."
Everyone looked at Levy, who had stopped crying and was staring at the letter with a serious expression.
"How can you be so sure?" Mira asked tenderly, reaching out to touch the girl's arm," I want you to be right, but you can't get your hopes up."
"No," Levy insisted, shrugging her off," the letter is too perfect."
"Too perfect?" Natsu frowned, confused. He wasn't the only one as many of the others also began to express their concerns.
"Gajeel didn't go to school and has dyslexia," Levy explained shortly, before turning back to the letter," This letter has correct grammar and spelling. I've been teaching him, and he's never not made a mistake."
"That does make sense," Lisanna piped up from the whispers amongst the group," After all, his paperwork always has little mistakes."
"Okay, but if it wasn't Gajeel who wrote it, then who?" Laxus asked.
"Juvia and Gajeel were big criminals. When we made the deal with the FBI, we gave over a lot of information leading to a large number of drug and criminal ring busts," Juvia mused aloud," It makes sense that someone would want to get revenge."
"We need to call the police," Erza exclaimed, as she reached for her phone. It was quickly snatched by Juvia, however, who refused to hand it back.
"We can't call the police," she said firmly.
"What?" Gray asked," Juvia, I know you don't have the best experience with the law, but this is serious."
"The police have to follow protocol," Juvia sighed," wait 24 hours. They won't be convinced by the letter and are most likely going to assume he's left on his own. We know better. Plus," Juvia bit her lip," if it is enemies of ours, they won't waste time."
"Waste time?" someone piped up nervously.
"There was no ransom, nothing," Juvia said softly," They want us to think Gajeel disappeared. Meaning they plan to deal with him quickly."
Levy slapped a hand over her mouth to silence a sob.
"Okay, so we can't call the police," Mest clarified," but we need to figure out who is behind this."
"I think I know someone who could help us," Juvia said, before turning to Gray. After a moment, Gray seemed to realise who she was talking about and groaned.
"Please tell me I'm wrong."
"We don't have any other options, Gray," Juvia said firmly.
"Alright, fine," he grumbled, pulling out his phone. He quickly rang the number.
"We need some help."
…
"I'm glad you called for me, sweet Juvia," the man mused as he examined the letter.
"Stop flirting and do your job, Lyon," Gray snapped. Lyon rolled his eyes but appeared to drop it. He then pulled out a small torch.
"I thought we weren't allowed to call the police," Erza said, suspicious of the stranger.
"Lyon is a private investigator," Juvia explained," He can give us access to different criminal databases and information whilst keeping everything quiet."
"I need the lights cut," Lyon announced quickly, ending Juvia's explanation. Someone flicked the lights, plunging them into darkness. Suddenly a blue light with an orange filter lit up the page. Lyon leaned in, humming as he examined both sides of the letter.
There were multiple prints across it.
"Bingo," Lyon murmured, before pulling out a camera from his bag," Juvia, dear, will you hold this light in place?"
"Of course," Juvia replied softly, going over to him. She held the light as he photographed the different prints, ensuring the images were of high enough quality to be analysed.
"Okay, the lights can come back on," he ordered. Someone did as he asked and within a few moments they were back in the well lit gym.
"I need to send these off," Lyon mumbled, mainly to himself, pulling out his laptop. He quickly uploaded the images and sent them off. He then grabbed his phone.
"Sherry," he said," I've just sent you an email. I need you to run all those prints through the database. Now. Let me know if we get any hits or not, understand?"
There was a pause.
"Alright." Lyon ended the call.
"Well?" Gray asked, impatient. He wasn't too fond of his adopted brother and was rather eager to wrap up their little meeting.
"There were lots of prints, probably from some of you," Lyon explained to the group," but if any come up on the database that aren't from here, we have a clue."
…
They waited around for an hour before they got a call.
Two matches.
The first match that came up was classified, which Juvia quickly claimed as her own.
The second match was much more promising.
Tibo Thibault.
"Does that name ring any bells?" Lyon asked Juvia, as he pulled up the file on the man.
"Yes," Juvia nodded," He's from a small gang, they'll do anything for the right price. But none of the information we gave over would have impacted them."
"You said they'll do anything for the right price?" Lucy reiterated, a thought coming to her head.
Juvia nodded, wondering where the girl was going with this.
"Is it a possibility then that they could have been hired by someone?" Lucy asked.
"It wouldn't be above them," she said after a few moments of silent thinking.
"I'll run his plates," Lyon said.
"How will that help?" Gray asked, standing next to him.
"I'm able to access any cctv in the city and I can find out where he was the morning of the incident."
"It seems that he went to a research lab," Lyon frowned, showing the group the image of a black van entering a restricted area of the nearby Fiore Biological Lab.
"A research lab?"
"Do you think Gajeel's there?" Levy asked softly, causing everyone to look at her.
"I can't say for certain he's there," Lyon said calmly," but right now, it's the most likely location."
…
The first sense to return to Gajeel was his hearing.
Drip
Drip
Drip
The sound of leaky pipes made his head ache like someone was chipping away at it. He'd been blinded with a bag over his head, the rough cloth scratching him whenever he turned his head. He tried to move his arms but the clank of metal made him realise he was handcuffed to whatever he was leaning against. In short, he was trapped.
"Bastards," Gajeel spat out, his voice echoing. He didn't even know if anyone would be able to hear him, if he was alone.
Suddenly Gajeel heard the sound of a door being opened and slammed.
"Such horrible language," a man laughed," though I'd expect that much from a man like you."
Gajeel recognised the voice. The mocking tone and middle class arrogance weaving its way around him.
"YOU!"