The complete and absolute arrogance of my… enemy? Adversary? Nemesis? Whatever, he's an asshole. There is apparently no fear in him, which I realized as the car was pulled into a parking garage next to an old building in Oak Town with 'Phantom Lord Group' in ridiculously huge letters down the side of the building. It's a shame they obviously spent a lot of money refurbishing the building, only to turn it into the garish headquarters for an evil corporation. I feel like I stepped out of reality and straight into a spy movie. What kind of idiot do you have to be to kidnap someone, then haul them straight to your corporate headquarters?

It took my captors several minutes to release me from the back of the car and secure my hands behind my back once again. My arms were stiff and sore from being immobile for nearly two hours, and the steady ache in my heart had yet to let up. Not to mention the seven garish wounds on my arm and stomach, the latter two of which split open when I was pulled from the vehicle and had begun slowly seeping blood again.

Without a word, I am led onto an elevator. There was no point in trying to fight back yet; there were too many of them, and I am in unfamiliar territory. Patience. All I needed was some patience, and maybe a little bit of courage and I should make it through to the other side.

Much to my surprise, the elevator did not stop at the top floor, but somewhere in the middle. We stepped off, walking through a near-empty hallway to stand in front of the last door on the left. The man holding tightly to my handcuffs knocked three times.

"Jose," he said, in his cold, even voice. "Special delivery."

Ghost opened the door seconds later and I was pushed through, followed by the men who had invaded my house. Jose stood with his back to us, looking out one of the tinted windows at the city below. I watched his eyes lift in his reflection, but he did not turn around.

"There is a member of your team missing," Jose spoke calmly. "Where is Detective Jackal?"

"Dead," the man behind me answered without a hint of emotion or regret for what he had done. "He took it upon himself to damage the merchandise."

My blood boiled to be spoken of in such a way, but I said and did nothing in reply. I cast my eyes to the floor as Jose turned at this revelation. At that moment, I wondered if it would be better for me to appear helpless and utterly broken. Part of that wasn't too far from the truth, as there wasn't much I could do handcuffed, but though my heart was broken, my spirit was not.

"Welcome, my dear Lucy."

Bile threatened when he smiled and walked towards me. Try as I might, I was unable to flinch away from his touch as he stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers before sliding them through my hair. His very presence sickened me, and his touch was even more disgusting than it had been the day before. For just a moment, I am tempted to find a blade and slice my hair off so he cannot touch it again.

"Take her to get cleaned up," he ordered Ghost. "Then escort her to one of the guest rooms. I'll join shortly."

"Guest room," I scoffed. "Guests are people who are free to accept or decline an invitation, and may leave when they choose."

"You were more than free to decline the invitation, my dear."

Of course I was, though if I had, I would have been brought in unconscious instead.

"Am I also free to go?"

"You will be soon enough. Once you're clean and your wounds dressed, we shall have a little chat, after which I intend to send you home."

In lieu of arguing further, I allow myself to be escorted from the room. My jaw clenched as I remembered being promised to be returned safely home years ago, only to find myself the prisoner of a monster. With Jackal dead, I am certain that is the fate that awaits me after this so-called chat. The prospect doesn't frighten me near as much as it would have several months ago, and I stop myself from smirking at all the ways I have learned to break free and defend myself against my personal boogeyman.

Ghost took hold of the handcuffs and led me back into the quiet hallway.

"Are you listening to me?" I hadn't said anything to him before this, but I hoped he understood the question.

"No. There are perimeter cameras, but no recording devices inside the building at all."

Thank the gods.

"Please tell me there's a plan. Because if you don't have one, I'll just improvise."

"Are you always so much trouble?" Ghost asked, his amusement obvious. "No wonder Natsu likes you so much."

"Not anymore, he doesn't."

There was no reply to my sad comment as we walked into the infirmary. After making sure no one else was in the room, Ghost removed my handcuffs then walked the room gathering gauze, antiseptic solution, and whatever else that was needed to patch myself up. He kept his back turned while I cleaned and dressed my injuries, and FUCK did that hurt. As I worked, I told him what I had done to make sure everyone was safely out of the mansion.

"You know you could have gone with him, right? It would have been easier for you to just clear out the mansion and have everyone gone when Jose's team arrived."

"And where would that have left you?" I flinched as I pulled the first of the butterfly bandages across one of my abdominal wounds, securing it in place before grabbing another. "Likely not in a very good place if you were found out. I told you I was in, and I'm in."

"You really are damn stubborn, aren't you? You ended up with more physical and emotional pain just to save my ass? To what end, Lucy."

I placed another bandage as I thought about that. Another. Taking my time to figure it out, because I honestly didn't know. In the end, that was the answer I gave. I didn't know why I was willing to put myself in harm's way to save someone I barely knew, but I did know that this man is important to Natsu, and I didn't want him to lose someone he cared about. The irony is not lost on me, that I hurt him in order to try to help; I know Natsu cares about me, too.

As I wrapped a roll of gauze around my waist, we discussed what little plan there was. Ghost kept it vague - plausible deniability and all that. Wounds properly dressed, and handcuffs back on - looser than before, as I could not slip them off with minimal effort - we made our way from the infirmary to a "guest room" on the top floor.

Once I had been locked in, I took a moment to familiarize myself with the room. I could feel a light breeze from my left, and turned to see that there is an open door leading onto a small balcony. This room is on the twelfth floor - the uppermost floor of the building - so I make sure to keep my distance; I don't want to give them any more opportunities to hurt me than they already have.

"Dearest Lucy," Jose said as he flung the door open, startling me out of my observations. "Let us sit and have a nice little chat." He motioned me to a small table set in one corner of the room, far away from the open balcony door.

"I'm listening," I said as politely as I could - so, not polite at all - as I sat across from him, keeping my fingers interlaced behind my back to avoid the temptation of removing my cuffs and throwing him off the balcony. Though, I did manage a genuine smile at that particular thought.

Jose must think the smile was for him, as I watched him relax into his chair. I took a moment to squeeze my eyes closed, feeling my unfamiliar contacts shift slightly before I opened my eyes again.

"I was hoping to discuss a business proposition with you, and hoping that we can be civil about the matter."

I shifted slightly in my seat, tapping the toe of my left shoe against the floor three times before finding a relatively comfortable position.

"Alright." My answer was tentative, and I did not have to fake the nervousness in my voice. "Before we start, I would like you to answer a question for me…"

"Of course, you may ask anything you like."

"You said I would be taken home after our discussion." He nodded when I paused at that statement. "Will you be taking me back to Magnolia, or to my estate?"

"Neither," he answered, a dark smile spreading across his face. "You will be taken to my house, where you will be put into the care of my son. He has assured me he will take good care of you this time, and treat you like the lady you were bred to become."

"And if I have no wish to be returned to Bora?"

"You are a lovely woman. I will not force you to be with my son, and I would find it immensely more satisfying for you to give me an heir instead of him."

Even though I knew that would not happen, that there were too many people who wanted to help me - people who were likely on their way now - a tear found its way to the edge of my eye before sliding down my cheek. Vision in my right eye turned staticy for just a moment, and I blinked a few times to see if it would remain clear.

"Now that we have that out of the way. I would like you to approve Phantom Lord Group's use of the Heartfilia Railways expansion for shipment of merchandise. We will be allowed private use of two trains, twice each week, with a guarantee all shipments make it to their destinations unmolested and unhindered by your pesky little friend."

"You proposed such a thing to my father six years ago," I replied. "He denied your request - multiple times, if I'm not mistaken - because he wished for transparency, and you would not tell him what was in the shipments. I will not agree to your terms unless I know you are not going to be placing anything dangerous on my trains."

Jose leaned back and looked at me for what felt like a long time. His fingers stroked at his mustache, making him appear deep in thought.

"Well, it's not like you're going to be able to tell anybody," he said, looking me in the eyes. "And who would believe a spoiled brat over an esteemed businessman, anyway?" He laughed at this, as if either of us were what he believed us to be; I am no spoiled brat, and he is so far removed from 'esteemed' that it was more laughable he considered himself as such. "Phantom Lord caters to an ever-expanding clientele who require a steady flow of workers. We bring people in who can fulfill their needs - whatever those may be."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, some clients request strong men as bodyguards, or to do manual labor. Others require women to work in the kitchens, or as maids, or for whatever pleasure they need. And yet others request children for whatever use they may have. It really depends on what the client wants."

Cold rushes up my spine at how uncaring he is when he talks about the people he enslaves and sells off. I want it to be enough, but I know it may not be.

"Are these people as willing to work for your clients as I was to come to this meeting? Just taken from their homes through violent means and dragged into lives of servitude?"

"Such crudeness, my dear Lucy. I thought you were raised to be a lady…" There was a slight pause, and in it I took great joy in knowing I had offended Jose with the way I spoke of his business. "Not all are willing to come along without a little gentle persuasion, but they really only need a little push in the right direction to see the benefits of the life we present to them."

"You're sick, and deranged, and should spend the rest of your life behind bars. There's no way in hell I will ever work with you; you will not be allowed to corrupt the enterprise my family built to satisfy your lust for money and power." My voice became stronger with every word out of my mouth, and I knew I should quit while I was ahead. "You and your son are disgusting, taking pleasure from the pain you inflict on others, and I would rather die than allow either of you disgusting, low-life creatures to touch me."

The pain was instantaneous. As soon as the words were out, the back of his left hand met my cheek. I felt the stone of one of his rings slice into me as vision in my left eye blacked out.

"Bora will be with you in a few minutes to test out whether that theory of yours is true or not," he said from the door. "Don't worry, though, my dear, it will only be for tonight. If you manage to survive until morning, I will show you what it is like to truly be broken in."

My hands were working free of the cuffs as soon as the door closed. It didn't take long, and I was able to pull the contact out and shove it in my pocket. I hoped Lewis wouldn't be upset at me ruining half of his recording prototype - not that it was my fault, but you never know with techies, they're a strange breed. I checked the rest of the equipment to ensure it was all still working properly - which it seemed to be - and made it back to my chair just before Bora let himself into the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Looks like you're mine again, my little whore." He stalked closer to me, his movements the same as so many times before, but without the fear it used to instill in me. "You're going to pay for breaking my nose, and for every one of your little acts of wilful disobedience over the last few years."

"I'm not your little anything, you pathetic piece of crap," I told him, backing up until I was near the middle of the room, well away from any of the furniture he would likely try to use to his advantage. "And that broken nose was something you more than deserved. We're far from even, but the balance is not in your favor."

He grew closer as my steps back became smaller, wary of the open door at my back. The lunge was expected, as was his fist in my hair. It hurt just as much as every time he'd done it in the past, but this time I was ready. Natsu's training flashed through my mind as I brought both of my hands up around the one grasping me, then spun under his arm, keeping my grip tight.

I both heard and felt as at least one bone in Bora's forearm snapped from the pressure. There was no joy in me at hearing his pained scream, or seeing him clasp his hand to his chest in an attempt to protect it from further harm. His body came at me again - whether from lost balance, or to try to grab me again, I'll never know - and I pushed him away from me. By this time, I had lost track of my surroundings, realizing only just too late that the open door and balcony were no longer at my back; instead, they were at his.

Off balance from my push to get him away, paired with the severe pain he was obviously in from his wrist, he was unable to stop the inevitable. Stumbling backwards, Bora's thigh stopped as it hit the top of the balcony's railing. The rest of his body, however, did not, and he fell head-first out of my sight.

Horns and screams floated up to my ears from street-level, but I could not bring myself to go near the balcony to look at the aftermath myself. I've read too many articles of tragedy to even want to take a quick peek; from twelve stories up, there is almost no chance of survival, and the scene would likely traumatize me more than I already am.

This wasn't exactly part of the plan, and it was far from my intent. Instinct took over, and I acted on it in self-defense - I even have audio and video proof that's what happened. But none of that took away the feeling of guilt which washed over me, knowing that my actions directly led to the death of another human; even if he tortured and tormented me for years, that was a far more horrible way to go than what had been implied.

As with many other things, I cannot change the past. What's done is done, and my mind cleared except for one simple thought:

One down.

As you can see, loose ends are being tied up (and toppled over railings), but it's not over just yet.
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