A Long Time Ago, with Jellal

3rd POV

Jellal stared down at his ex girlfriend's naked body, laying bloody and cold on their shared sheets. Next to another. He grinned wildly down at the two and ran a hand through his hair. His body was coated in blood, along with part of the pistol and most of the room. 18 shots to the arteries of his ex and another 19 to the man next to her. In total, he'd shot the couple a total of 37 times. It took some restraint to not continue, but with proper self control, he was able to keep himself in check. He'd been out and about with some woman before he found her in bed with another guy. Which was normal, as he knew damn well she did every other day behind his back. He couldn't blame her, he did the same. And boy was it numbing. Minerva had always been a bit on the promiscuous side and so had he. But without the shame to back it up, it only led to more nights with strangers. He was getting sick of her anyways, he needed to kill her soon to be sure she wouldn't pose a nuisance. Maybe it would be a pain to clean up. Looks like he had his night cut out for him.

After the 2nd, 4th, 6th ex girlfriend murdered in similar ways, Jellal got tired of playing with the hearts of young scandalous from the club who found him most endearing. It was boring. Everyone was boring. However, the 6th and last time he sliced the throat of his partner, he decided maybe it wouldn't hurt to be in public for once. But when the blood curdling screech of a woman close by sounded throughout the dark alleyway they were in, he knew he was in trouble. It was a hassle really, getting the woman to shut up after she called the cops because of her squirming. But his clothes were sopping with blood and for once. Just once and never again.

He thought.

'What would happen if I let myself get caught?'

Well that's exactly what he did. He stood there patiently for the cops to arrived and pretended like he was surprised to see them. Faked an escape attempt for dramatic flare..

It wasn't on the news, however. Maybe a precaution to make sure the public wouldn't freak. On day one in the worst of the worst prisons, he was looked down upon. The people around him stared at him like a bug and smirked when he purposely bent down to grab something he 'dropped'. Just to get a kick out of snapping someone's neck again. Everyone was jacked. But not one of them could hold their own against him in a fight and everyone knew it. Simply by the dark look in his upturned eyes. Prison was boring, too. Ultear came to visit him once and she was not happy about seeing him caught up in the situation he was. But siblings are siblings and though unspoken, she was able to give him a message. One that told him that if he escaped, he would be safe. He smiled demented at her and as they left, he laughed heartily. Surprisingly enough, one day in the shower when Jellal bent down to grab the soap bar off the drain, a strong hand groped at his ass. Though it was shocking, reminding him of the abuse his father occasionally put him through, it was hysterical. Jellal had turned around so fast that the man barely had time to look up before he was bleeding profusely on the ground. Jellal fell to his knees atop him and repeatedly, he cracked the man's jaw at different angles until he wasn't moving anymore. And despite the cheering of other men around him, all that his brain was coming up with was anger. The memories of his childhood, his twin brother, of his father and what he had done to him. The memories coursed through his brain like a broken record. Each punch was harder than the previous and after a few minutes of breathing heavily with shower water gluing every bit of him down to his own skin, the man's blood had all but drained out. He was good as dead. Nothing felt better. On the second week and after being sentenced to another life, two more men had died by his hands and those that found themselves in the same room as him were shitting themselves before Jellal could so much as register their presence. It was annoying more than anything; happening to glance at someone and have them noticeably sweating beneath your gaze. In a way, he also loved it. Having people quiver just because they knew he existed to torment their dreams and concern them to nightmares. An ego boost, per se.

Jail.

Was.

Boring.

It wasn't too long after that he decided to break out. However, it wouldn't be easy. With the country's most dangerous criminal being caged in, they needed every form of security possible. This meant constant monitoring, that consisted of about 4 guards outside of his shared cell with a less dangerous criminal. Four security cameras in his cell, another 6 in the general area outside of his cell, a security alarm on each door in the section, motion detectors, reinforced iron bars and a few smaller things such as extra safe transfer gates. That was only the beginning. While being escorted by his four security guards to the bathrooms, cafeteria or outside (all of which were reinforced upon his arrival to a degree that even shocked him [he was flattered]) , Jellal decided to scope the halls and found out the exact number, locations and angles of all security cameras visible in his section and the number of security guard per corridor. It was a lot. And again, it was flattering that the government themselves thought him powerful enough to require this much protection for the outside world against him.

They were right!

He is powerful!

Which is exactly how he managed to kill every single inmate, security guard and, essentially, every person that worked at his prison. On his third week, he got a buddy of his to give him a tattoo on the side of his torso, one on his hip and another along his shoulder and neck. It was painful obviously but not as much as it was to kill the poor man when he had to escape. Even the man who shared his cell with him, who had fallen victim to Jellal's countless words and mind games and tricks, was spared. And Jellal pitied him dearly, for being so clearly and utterly terrified of him. And at the very end of it all, Jellal had burned the entire building down and threatened so many government officials with promises he intended to keep that every trace if his facial identity had all but vanished. He might as well have not existed. When he walked away from the building with a half empty gun in his bloody hand, also covered in soot, he smiled so dementedly that if someone were to see him they would think he'd killed someone. Which he had. Actually many, many people had died by his hands and his body count was untraceable at this point. After his ordeal and about a month in a prison that had shut down completely because of him, he did almost nothing. Worked as he usually did as an assassin, making more money than he needed.

It might have been a Monday or Sunday..? Saturday? Or any other day of the week, he couldn't recall.. When Jellal picked up a packet of cigarettes from his junk drawer and a dark red lighter. Leaving the apartment complex, he leaned tiredly against the building wall with that same cigarette wedged between his teeth. Mind wandering with boredom and foot tapping against the ground beneath him. Shining under the moon light from the rain they'd had earlier, the slick pavement beneath sounded of splashes when cars drove by. The smoke and his breath mixed in a cloud of white fumes and lifted off into the air, disappearing eventually. He stared blankly at the moon just barely visibly between two buildings and few clouds. A full moon— or what seemed like one— drew his attention. Maybe he should call one of his hook ups. Maybe Yukino or Kagura, whom were usually his go tos when he was extra bored or needed to release some pent up energy. They always happily agreed, arriving about half an hour after his beck and call; because in all honesty, who would decline an offer from Jellal Fernandes like that? There mustn't have been a soul alive. His hook ups changed every week to a month or so but the previous mentions were veterans. Personal favorites who he decided to keep around because they just never fucked anything up. Never got too involved, never got too clingy or demanding, asking too many questions and wanted the same thing he did. They knew he had killed countless women, and men of course, yet it didn't seem to bother them in the slightest. Just as the figure was about to pull out his phone, the ringing of screams from someone close by was heard. He chose to practice self control and not pursue the idiots probably just having a fist fight. Which lasted until about the fifth grunt from a woman down the same alley.

Oh. Hell. No.

He couldn't do it. No one in this town got to kill or rape or torture or rob or arsenate anything or anyone except for him. If this woman was going to suffer, it would be by his hands. He weaved through the alleyways around him until he came across a lanky guy ramming his boot into a woman with beautiful scarlet colored hair. The man yanked her head back to look her in the eyes. What a spectacle— violence from someone other than him was a rare sight. Though with such perfect fuck material being sullied by some random man's boot, he couldn't sit still.

"Look at me you shit!!!!" The man yelled, cheeks tinted pink. Jellal's face twisted with an angry glare as he stomped over to the man and woman.

"Invel, please...!" She pleaded. Jellal neared the two and Invel scowled, annoyed, clearly wasted. Jellal's fist collided suddenly with the man's cheek and he immediately began to bleed. His body heavily fell to the floor. He was a lean man who clearly spent a decent amount of time at the gym. Invel stood and seemed to tower at about 5'11 at first glance. Jellal glared down from above him and kneed him in the gut, holding his shoulders to steady him. The drunk fell to the floor again, holding his stomach like a hurt child. Jellal bent down and gently picked up the woman in his arms.

Put simply, from there, not a single other person he had sex with did it the way she did. They were good, just not good like her. Which is what caused him to put hookups on pause and the return of Jellal's ever lasting promiscuity today!

"HE WHAT?" Natsu fumed as he stood abruptly at his desk, deep green eyes ablaze and nearly setting fire to the man in front of him. Jellal was calm as he wiped a bit of blood off of his cheek and wiped down the sword in his hand, tilting the blade back and forth to watch its reflection.

"Gray. He was captured by the police, hence his disappearance the past few weeks. It seems-" he paused to swallow the thick of anger caught in his throat. "They beat him for answers. Luckily he didn't speak a word, otherwise, this blood would be his and this news would be much worse. But it seems there were some other issues."

"Like what, Jellal!?"

"Like the fact that he's changed within the last few weeks. Especially since Juvia passed away." He leaned against the wrapped hilt of his sword after sticking it slightly into the ground. "He broke out and I spoke with our little pawn. Turns out the police force is sending out a bounty for him, which should be done soon." Jellal's expression hardened and he fell to his knee, a hand against his chest as he submitted to his superior in a silent pledge of loyalty. "Isn't looking too bright and ultimately, he will pose a threat to all of us. What do you plan to-"

"-Bring me his head."

Jellal looked down, the scorching gaze of his boss entirely too intense for him to oppose. He swallowed the nerves threatening him in his saliva and after a moment of hesitation, looked up. "Yes."