The Scars That Make You Whole
By CrimsonStarbird
Brittle Bones, Part 3
-Choosing Sides-
The moon rose, making it thirty-six hours since Zeref had last seen Lucy.
He could have been in Vistarion by now. Or Magnolia, or Crocus, or whichever city Lucy had gone to next; it would be easy enough to find her. But no, he was still here, in this nameless forest, with the dirt in his hair and the short grass prickling through his clothes, lying alongside the beetles and the earthworms and other creatures as important as him.
He had done a little more, today. He had got up and wandered round, though never far enough out of the wilderness that he risked coming into contact with other human beings. When the foliage became too dense to pass through, he'd set fire to the trees that were in his way, and burnt them as black as his legacy. He'd fallen back to earth, then, wondering what he'd thought lay in that direction that was worth killing them for, and there he'd lain ever since.
There had been days, down in the dregs of his long and torpid history, when even that much activity would have felt like an achievement.
Not today, though.
Today, he was restless. Today, there was self-loathing mixed in with his lethargy: the biting certainty that he needed to be acting, and could be acting, and there was no real reason why he wasn't acting, except that he didn't feel like it. Sooner or later it would all come crashing down around him… but later was better than sooner, so he continued to lie there, and he continued to put it off.
That was where he was when his lacrima buzzed again.
It was odd, he thought. After the incessant buzzing of yesterday, it had been silent all day today, until now.
He'd assumed that Invel had realized trying to contact him was a bad idea and got on with preparing their nation for war. Perhaps he shouldn't have ignored his Chief of Staff, but he hadn't felt up to dealing with him. Invel wouldn't have understood. He'd have been frustrated or impatient – and not in the amusing way he usually was, but raw and true and dangerous.
It was a thought both terrifying and intriguing, because for all that he still didn't have the energy to deal with Invel, there was a part of him which couldn't help wondering if he was so opposed to it precisely because he knew it was what he needed…
He wasn't smiling as he fumbled for the lacrima, though perhaps there was a new spark in his eyes.
But it wasn't Invel's magic that he felt reaching back.
It was August's.
Now he really was frowning as he heaved himself into a sitting position. Both Invel and August possessed ultra-long-range communication lacrima keyed to his, but unlike the former, who would bother him over the most trivial matters of government if Zeref ever deigned to answer his calls, August rarely used his. He, at least, knew what the phrase for emergencies meant.
Yes, August had always respected his privacy, and his need to be alone. That was one of the reasons why Zeref had always been fond of him. For him to be calling now…
Shaking his head to shed the worst of the dirt, Zeref allowed the call to connect.
The three of them had invited themselves into August's office to join the call: Ajeel, whose indignation had not come down even a decibel since they'd checked Air Traffic Control's records; Dimaria, who had decided that she was involved now, and thus would stay until the end; and Brandish, who was less concerned by Invel's actions as by the mix of emotions radiating from the one she had always seen as more of a grandfather than a superior. She was the one who hadn't taken no for an answer as she'd squeezed into August's office, and that had made it twice as difficult for him to turn the others away.
In the end, he had stopped trying, and made the call with them all in session. The orb on August's desk was still struggling to resolve a barely lit image when their emperor remarked, far more mildly than Brandish had been expecting, "I have an audience today, I see."
"Why are you in a forest?" Ajeel demanded, apparently taking the acknowledgement as an invitation to skip the formalities.
August held up his hand for silence before their emperor could. "We have a problem," he spoke quietly.
"Tell me."
It was undoubtedly an order, and yet August hesitated, suddenly second-guessing words he had been practising in his head for a while. "Invel… has disappeared."
"Disappeared? Is he in trouble?"
"It's hard to say," August prevaricated. "There's no indication that he was forced, but…"
"He's gone to Ishgar," Ajeel jumped in. "Specifically, south-east Fiore. Or so we think. He didn't bother telling any of us; he just took a ship and flew off."
It wasn't quite dark enough through the lacrima to hide their emperor's frown. "Why would he do that? I specifically told him not to leave Vistarion, let alone Alvarez!"
"He's not acting on your orders, then?" August inquired.
"Assuredly not."
In the corner of her eye, Brandish saw August's shoulders slump slightly – so small a movement that it would never have shown up on an international lacrima connection, but enough to let her know that, for whatever reason, he had been desperately hoping that His Majesty would say otherwise.
"Are you sure you don't have any idea why he would spontaneously ignore instructions and come to Fiore?" His Majesty pressed.
"The cuisine?" Dimaria deadpanned.
"Because he's a massive hypocrite?" a disgruntled Ajeel guessed.
Brandish shrugged – she hadn't seen Invel since before she'd gone on vacation – but it was August whose silence hung the loudest. His gaze had dropped away from the lacrima. She was close enough to feel his magic quivering, like a flightless bird as the wolf closed in; she wondered if he'd forgotten that, since he had opened the lacrima connection with his own power, His Majesty would be able to sense it just as clearly as she could from beside him.
Sure enough, the next word came as a command, a challenge: "August?"
The old mage was silent for so long in the face of a direct order that for a moment, Brandish caught herself wondering if he would disobey.
But he did answer, even if it was a whisper, dead and hollow. "He believes you are in league with Fairy Tail. I suspect he has gone to Fiore to see if there is any truth to it."
There was silence, broken only by the faint buzzing of magic and-
"He what?" Ajeel exclaimed.
Brandish had no doubt Ajeel's expression would have been priceless, if she could have torn her gaze away from the lacrima to see it. Their emperor had gone completely still. He didn't appear disbelieving, like Ajeel, or bemused, as she herself was feeling. No, he looked like he didn't understand the words – and then, all of a sudden, like he did.
The connection went dead.
The lacrima rolled forwards and dropped off the desk with a dull thump.
"You know," Dimaria observed in her lazy drawl, "Invel always struck me as the kind of man who would carefully label all his marbles, and take a register every night to check they were present and accounted for. Turns out, he's just as capable of losing them as the rest of us."
Ajeel's fist made its displeasure known to August's desk. "This is so unfair! How come I get almost frozen to death for wanting to take a daytrip to Fiore, but it's absolutely fine if he wants a holiday? And, what, pointing out that His Majesty's actions aren't always the most logical is an execution-worthy offence, but running off to another continent to make sure His Majesty isn't siding with the very guild he has told us to destroy is A-OK?"
"Madness," Dimaria sighed, shaking her head.
August said nothing. That was why Brandish couldn't laugh at the others' reactions; why, instead, she slipped her hand into his and gave a faint squeeze. He squeezed back, almost frantic, and that was when she knew.
He, too, had seen His Majesty's expression right before he had terminated the connection.
No: he had known all along what the outcome of their call would be.
He wasn't expecting to see Invel alive ever again.
"The Gehennan Princess," Lucy read, gazing up at the unassuming building.
Slightly faded crimson paint proclaimed the pub's name, while its hanging sign depicted a white-haired, devil-horned woman who looked uncannily like Mira. Glowing amber windows promised an interior as full of revelry as their old guildhall. There was nothing about its appearance to indicate that asking after it was the kind of crime that would see one kidnapped, imprisoned, and fighting for their life on a slaughterhouse floor.
"It really is a pub…"
She hadn't realized she had spoken out loud until she was hit by Levy's sharp response. "Of course it's a pub, Lucy. Mira and Lisanna moved here to work in it, remember?"
"Yeah, but from how people were acting when we were looking for it, I was starting to wonder if it was, you know, a title or something…"
"It's certainly the kind of nickname Mira would appreciate," Levy commented. "Still, real pub or otherwise, I'm sure this place holds the answers. Let's go."
"Hey- hang on a minute!" Lucy blustered. "We were kidnapped just for asking about this pub. Are you really planning on walking into it at the busiest time of night, covered in blood and guts and heaven only knows what else?"
"Not through the front door, no." Levy jerked her head upwards. Above the bustling pub, the windows belonging to the second floor of the building were completely dark. Maybe it was used for storage, or living quarters for the owner. Either way, it was sure to contain clues. "With all the activity focussed on the pub itself, this is the best time to break in and snoop around up there."
Lucy squinted at her. "Are you sure you're a Rune Knight?"
"A Rune Knight who also happens to be partnered with Gajeel, a man who believes that wearing the uniform makes everything he does legal," she sighed. "After a while, you stop trying to argue. I don't think either of us was really cut out for this job."
She led the way round to the deserted beer garden at the rear of the pub. It wasn't a cold night, so perhaps they were lucky that none of the patrons they could glimpse within had ventured outside. Levy, who had ducked out of sight underneath a window, gestured impatiently to Lucy, who transitioned obediently back into her Taurus form. She tossed up her whip to loop around a drainpipe and provide them with a makeshift climbing rope for the second time that night.
"So, why did you join the Rune Knights?" Lucy wondered, following her friend up the side of the building.
A faint chuckle drifted down from above her. "It was Gajeel's idea."
Lucy almost let go of the rope. "Yeah, right."
"No, really. We were looking for work when we ran into Warrod, who mentioned – as a joke, of course – that the Rune Knights were always hiring. I was playing along with it, claiming that it was far too respectable a job for scoundrels like us… then Gajeel got this funny look in his eye, and the next thing I know, he had gone and signed up. Lily and I went with him to try and keep him out of trouble."
Levy focussed on hauling herself upwards for a moment, and then she added, "I think he wanted to prove to me that he was capable of holding down a respectable job."
"I guess that backfired, then," Lucy grinned.
"I did tell him it didn't count if the only reason why he hadn't been fired was because the Captains were too afraid of him to do it," her friend laughed back. "But in another sense, it worked perfectly."
"How so?"
"It made me realize that I wasn't looking for a respectable man," Levy said, and Lucy couldn't help smiling at that.
Fortunately for them, one of the unlit windows had been left open. Levy managed to wriggle inside without incident, and Lucy hauled herself up and squeezed through after her.
She found herself in a dark apartment, lit only by the slow sweep of Levy's Solid Script torch. The beam illuminated dull-glinting kitchen appliances, a black glass table, cream walls… in other words, nothing mysterious whatsoever. Lucy opened a cupboard or two half-heartedly, but their contents were equally mundane. What was she expecting – kitchen knives covered in human blood? A severed head in the fridge?
"Maybe this is an ordinary pub, and some criminal gang just took objection to the presence of a Rune Knight in the city?" Lucy guessed. The normalness of the apartment had killed what little enthusiasm for the mystery she had left after escaping the slaughterhouse. All she wanted was a long, hot shower and somewhere safe to sleep.
Levy, however, was in full criminal-pursuit mode. "I'm not so sure. I think I can smell something off."
"Yeah, us," Lucy snorted, thinking of the blood and guts she was undoubtedly treading into the carpet. "We smell like we've been dragged backwards through a slaughterhouse… oh, wait."
"I'm going to look around." Generating a second word-torch, Levy tossed it to her friend. "Maybe there'll be a study or something that will give us a hint."
"Fine, I'll check the bedrooms."
They split up. The first bedroom Lucy tried held nothing but a bed, wardrobe and mirror – none of the personal documents she had been hoping for. The second was no different, and she was about to report back to her no-doubt-disappointed partner when she paused. Twisting back, she raised her torch.
There, beneath the spotlight, a crumpled maroon dress lay across the back of a chair.
There was something familiar about it. Frowning, Lucy moved forward and picked it up in her free hand, letting the sleek fabric spill down to the floor. She had a peculiar feeling that it would suit her rather well, though she owned nothing like it… and then she realized why. She had seen herself wearing it before. It was the dress Mira had worn when she'd transformed into Lucy to distract Phantom Lord, all those months – years – ago.
Lucy let it fall back to the chair. It could be a coincidence. Lots of people probably owned that dress – although, for those who hadn't had it in their luggage during seven years of stasis inside the Fairy Sphere, it surely wouldn't have been in such good condition.
She swept across to the wardrobe. There were many outfits she didn't recognize, but every additional one she did recognize cranked her conviction up a notch. There was a good chance that Mira was living – or had lived – in this apartment, and if the size of the place was anything to go by, Lisanna was probably here too.
Which made perfect sense, if they were both working at the Gehennan Princess downstairs, but fit with literally no other pieces of the puzzle.
"Lucy."
"Levy," she called back, "I think Mira and Lisanna are living here-"
"Lucy."
There was something off about Levy's whisper, something ethereal.
Lucy hurried after her. In the living room, her torchlight flicked from Levy's pale face – too pale, just like her whisper – to the wall she was staring at.
The wall which gleamed with wet, crimson letters.
YOU'RE NEXT.
Lucy stumbled backwards. Her hands clutched at the empty air where her keys should have been, even as she spun automatically, expecting a trap.
There was no one there.
Slowly, dreadfully, she turned back to the message freshly painted in blood.
They were the only ones in the apartment, but it might not have been that way for as long as she'd thought.
"I hope Mira and Lisanna are alright," Levy said, in that same hollow whisper.
"So do I," Lucy swallowed.
"What… what do we do now, Lucy?"
Lucy bit her lip. It had been one thing her teammates deferring to her in Bishop's Lace, when they'd had enemies and a clear goal, even if they had never gained back the head start Arlock had on them. But here and now, with their enemies invisible and no clue what was going on…
"We go for help," she decided. "We've got to. We're blundering around in the dark, here."
"Who's going to help us?" Levy demanded. "We were attacked in a café in broad daylight! A security guard tried to murder us! The pub is suspicious as hell, and someone's painted a threat on the wall of Mira's living room in blood – and where the hell is Mira, anyway?"
"Then we go to the Rune Knights-"
"There aren't any!" Levy shouted, distraught. "No Rune Knights, no guilds, nowhere that's safe! What the hell is wrong with this city?"
"If the light teems with darkness, then perhaps, in darkness, you will find the light."
Lucy's heart almost stopped again. There in the doorway of the living room stood the bat-like black-armoured figure who had helped them in the slaughterhouse.
She should have been fighting, or speaking, but the only thought running through her mind was how he could have got inside. She and Levy had searched the whole apartment, and yet surely they'd have heard him breaking down the door, and with that armour, he wouldn't have fit through the window. He might as well have been a shadow.
"Here," he said in that same gravelly voice, when it became obvious she wasn't going to speak. From his belt he pulled a familiar ring of keys, which he tossed to Lucy, followed by her Fleuve d'étoiles. Too puzzled to be grateful, Lucy clipped them back to her belt on autopilot, as he turned to Levy. "I'm afraid they destroyed your Rune Knight gear. On principle, I think."
"That's okay," Levy responded weakly.
"Why are you helping us?" Lucy demanded. As much as she didn't want to antagonize the one potentially friendly figure they had encountered in this whole damn city, she had to know. "Who are you?"
Thin lips turned up into a faint smile. "You're not without friends here," came that rough voice. "You just haven't found your side yet."
"Just give us a straight answer-"
The black knight wasn't listening. His head was tilted slightly; not for the first time, Lucy wondered if he was hearing things they couldn't. "I can't be seen here," he cursed. "I'm sorry, but you're on your own."
"Hey-" Lucy tried, but he stepped out of their torchlight and was gone. She dashed after him and swung her light around the hall, but to no avail. He had vanished once again.
Before she had time to ponder it, the sound of footsteps shattered the fragile peace.
Levy grabbed her hand, making her jump again. "Lucy, we've got to go!"
They ran for the kitchen – aiming for the open window – but hadn't gone more than three steps when the front door exploded off its hinges. Black and white flashed across Lucy's vision, and then a swarm of red lights descended upon her. They danced across her chest like flickering mosquitos, those little thread-like lasers, and she froze, her Fleuve d'étoiles only half-raised. She'd seen such lights before, and they'd hovered at the end of Bisca's rifle.
At the far end of the corridor, half a dozen men each held one or more handguns trained on her and Levy. In the background, connected to them by those blood-red threads of light, yet more shadows moved. They were each dressed in black, but unlike their mysterious helper – judgement was still pending on whether he fell into the category of friend – these weren't armoured bodysuits, but actual suits, black blazers and white shirts and red carnations tucked into the lapel. And the guns, of course; efficient black or silver firearms which transformed their smart attire into something deadly.
"Don't move," snapped the first. His hair was slicked back, and his hand was the steadiest of them all. "One sign of magic and we'll shoot you full of holes."
Lucy weighed up her options. Even if those guns weren't magical, they would be quick, and neither she nor Levy specialized in defensive magic. They were caught off-guard, and vastly outnumbered.
And yet, that wasn't the only reason why she didn't want to fight.
If they fought again – and escaped again – they'd be no closer to the truth than before.
Hoping that Levy would understand, she lowered the handle of her whip a touch. It wasn't a gesture of surrender, but nor was it a signal to attack, and fortunately, Levy seemed willing to silently follow her lead.
"Well, well, well," the first man purred. "Caught in the act."
His gaze darted from the two mages to the threat still dripping down the wall behind them. All of a sudden, Lucy became aware of the fact that they'd both fled a slaughterhouse not half an hour ago, and nothing could have looked more suspicious than the drying animal blood on their arms and clothes.
"It wasn't us!" she protested.
Levy's eyes darted to her and back. Lucy heard the unspoken question loud and clear: you do have a plan, right?
She didn't, but she was determined. "The message was already there when we got here, I swear."
"You just broke into this house for fun, did you?"
"No. We were told to come here by a man in a bat-like costume."
In her peripheral vision, she saw one or two of their aggressors shifting uncomfortably – clearly recognizing the description – but their leader only sneered. "A likely story."
"A true story," Lucy countered. "We only look like this because someone switched the machinery on as we were trying to escape from the slaughterhouse where we were imprisoned!"
In retrospect, adding those completely true facts was only making her story seem less likely, if Levy's eyeroll was any indication. Thus it was somewhat surprising when one of the other men hissed to their leader, "Oi, Blackjack! A girl Rune Knight, and a Celestial Spirit mage – ain't they the ones Ace took to Jimmy's this afternoon?"
The leader's – Blackjack's – eyes narrowed. "I haven't heard anything about a breakout."
"No one's heard nothin' from Ace for over an hour. Somethin's obviously gone down at Jimmy's."
Lucy waited. Blackjack hadn't lowered his gun, but there was something less certain about him.
His henchman persisted, "Didn't the boss say we were to take 'em straight down if we saw 'em again? Don't know about you, mate, but I don't wanna upset the boss…"
Blackjack's finger twitched on the trigger.
"We're not responsible for any of this," Lucy said loudly. "We've come to this city in search of our friends, nothing more, and we want no part in whatever is going on here… but our friends seem to be tied up in it, so I suppose it won't be that simple. Let us speak to your boss."
"Blackjack," the henchman whined again. "You know what the boss is like about captives…"
Blackjack grunted. "Alright. You're coming with us. Put one toe out of line, and you won't live long enough to regret it."
At the man's gesture, Lucy and Levy fell into step behind him. The gang of suits swirled around them, an escort with the grace – and the subtlety – of a polished killing machine. At least the sniper lights had vanished. It was one less thing to worry about, if choosing not to fight turned out to have been a mistake.
Speaking of which…
"This was your plan?" Levy hissed, in an undertone. "Surrendering to the criminals who have already kidnapped us once and flung us into a slaughterhouse?"
"I don't think they want to kill us," Lucy replied. "I don't think they did before, either. They had plenty of opportunities to do so."
"Have you already forgotten our near-death experience on the slaughterhouse floor?"
"I don't think the guard who activated the machinery was working with them." Recalling that blank expression and jerky movements, she added, "I'm not sure he was working with anyone. Not of his own accord, at least."
Levy frowned at her – she hadn't seen what Lucy had seen – but she let it slide. "Still, surrendering?"
"You just haven't found your side yet," Lucy quoted.
"Seriously?" Levy demanded. "Your genius plan is based on some cryptic words spoken by a masked figure who may or may not be our ally?"
"…Yes."
"Did it not occur to you that if he intended for us to surrender to the goons he could hear approaching, he would just have, I don't know, said so?"
"Honestly, Levy, you have no sense of the dramatic. This is why I'm the author out of the two of us."
Levy gave a long-suffering sigh. "I can see my gravestone now: died following her friend into hell, but at least it was dramatic. Seriously, how does Zeref put up with you?"
"Well, he can't die, so he probably doesn't have to worry about what his gravestone will say." Then she thought about it, and added, "To be honest, he's been throwing me into bizarre situations for so long now that this just doesn't seem weird to me. I'm sorry you've got caught up in it."
"After all this," Levy sighed, "this boss of theirs had better give us some answers."
There was something so nostalgic about the ground floor of the Gehennan Princess. Lucy was no stranger to pubs and bars – if nothing else, the Weekly Sorcerer held so many informal interviews in such establishments that they received special discounts in every bar in Crocus – but as they descended into a small hallway, the ajar door offered a glimpse of a world she hadn't truly experienced for ten months.
Familiar sounds washed over her: glasses clinking, friends relaxing, boisterous banter mixed with the heat of the hearth and the heady vapour from countless open casks. Despite the late hour, it was brightly lit with reds and golds and laughter. No other institution on the planet held quite the same atmosphere as Fairy Tail's guildhall, but it was closer than any she had seen. Even the tables were laid out in a similar formation, and the dragon's hoard of rainbow bottles behind the bar held all of Fairy Tail's old favourites.
It was almost impossible to reconcile the familiar, welcoming, normal sight before her with the threat scrawled in blood on the wall of the apartment above – or with the fate that had almost befallen her and Levy for merely inquiring about the Gehennan Princess. In that moment, danger seemed a million miles away. She could think of nothing but how much she'd missed coming back to this after a long mission away.
The sharp pang of nostalgia was enough to make her stop and stare – and the press of a gun's barrel to the small of her back was enough to get her moving again.
Surrounded on all sides by men with sleek suits and sleeker guns, she and Levy were ushered past the door leading to the pub proper, and down another flight of stairs. The sounds of revelry faded as they headed underground; the homely red-gold lights made a jarring switch into ultraviolet. Snatches of laughter from the floor above flickered hauntingly between breeze block walls.
The man called Blackjack led the way. Lucy had stopped trying to keep track of the number of goons with guns trained on her and Levy. Their chance to fight had well and truly passed, and she could only hope that her decision to surrender had been the right one. They hadn't been shot in the back yet, and that had to count for something.
At the end of the corridor, two more men who would have given Elfman a run for his money in a bodybuilding contest flanked a reinforced steel door, which duly opened for Blackjack.
Inside, the room looked a little less industrial, with a sumptuous rug spread across the floor and a scattering of furniture that looked as though it had been borrowed from the bar upstairs, but Lucy barely had the chance to glance around. There was a chair in the centre of the room with its back to them. So grand was it, that flawless sculpture of black leather, that even standing, Lucy could not catch a glimpse of who sat within it.
She could sense them, though.
The boss – for she had no doubt that this was the person in charge – had a magical presence both huge and unrestrained. It was a dark star at the heart of this mundane room; a pulsing void which saturated the air with its sinister, alien light. It tasted like oppression in her lungs – like fighting, impossibly alone. Flashes of her last stand against Tartaros battered down the walls of her mind.
There were many more minions around the perimeter of the boss's office, and one was stood next to the imposing chair, bent over to speak to his invisible leader. "-still not heard anything from Ace at the slaughterhouse," he was saying, as Lucy and Levy were forced closer. Then he gave a single, professional nod. "Understood. I will dispatch a messenger at once."
Blackjack jabbed the gun into Lucy's back with extra force. "Show some respect, worm," he hissed, and, not having any better ideas, Lucy sank to her knees. This way, the heel of her hand could press against her keyring without anyone noticing.
Addressing the back of that chair, Blackjack announced, "I have brought the girl Rune Knight and the guild mage who were poking around in our city. Ace locked them up at Jimmy's place, but they must have escaped while he was waiting for you to approve the interrogation. We still haven't had word from Ace, or any of the other guys at Jimmy's. Escaping wasn't enough for these scumbags, either, as they came straight here to break into your apartment. We caught them red-handed, painting a threat onto the wall in blood!"
"That's not what happened!" Lucy protested fiercely. "I have no idea why your people kidnapped us just for asking for directions to this pub! It was a mysterious figure dressed in black who broke us out of the slaughterhouse, though we didn't get far before he ran off, leaving us alone to deal with a security guard who tried to use the machinery to turn us into sausages!"
A handful of men exchanged puzzled looks at this. Into the uncertainty, she pressed, "Alright, I'll admit to breaking into the apartment, but it's just because we're worried about our friends and no one will give us any answers! We're not the ones who wrote the threat. The figure in black can confirm that. He was in the apartment with us but ran when he heard you coming."
"A likely story," Blackjack jeered.
"It's the truth!" she insisted. "We have no idea what's going on in this crazy city, or why complete strangers have been out to murder us ever since we started looking for this goddamn pub! Forty-eight hours ago, Levy and I were fighting for our lives against black magic lunatics who want to kill everyone who won't hail Zeref as their god, and to be quite frank with you, your city is shaping up to be a worse place than their satanic hideout! Would someone please tell us what's going on here? Preferably without shoving guns in our face, thanks!"
Blackjack raised his gun with a snarl – not even to shoot it, favouring the primal satisfaction of clubbing her around the head with it – and Lucy felt power surge towards her keys, but before open warfare could be unleashed in that small office, the boss's chair started to giggle.
After that, a lot of things happened at once.
First, Blackjack froze, his gaze flicking to his boss's chair with an entirely disproportionate fear.
Second, Lucy recognized those unsuccessfully stifled giggles. They did not belong in a place like this. They were much better suited to spreading gossip and bringing cheer to a crowded bar.
Third, Levy, who had not been on this quest for as long as Lucy, and who was therefore not quite as used to accepting the highly improbable as true, failed to make this connection in the same split-second.
The net effect of which was, when the chair spun around and Mirajane Strauss flung herself, beaming, towards her old friends with her arms outstretched for a hug, it did not occur to Levy to suppress her Rune Knight training… and thus the latest Fairy Tail reunion ended with a novice Rune Knight judo-throwing the leader of the Alstonia mafia into the far wall.
Suffice to say, all hell broke loose after that.
Fortunately, no one was better at dealing with hell than Mirajane Strauss. Figurative hell might have been a little outside the scope of Satan Soul magic, but neither that nor the unexpected assault from her friend was enough to stop her from switching to a Take Over form while still in mid-air.
Supple feet landed against the far wall at the same time as her demonic presence flared. Blackjack squeezed the trigger, but the gun was no longer aimed at Levy. In fact, it was no longer in his hand at all. A violet claw snatched it from his grip as Mira shot by. The next anyone saw of it, it was sat on the desk, neatly folded in half.
A heartbeat later, Mira was back in her chair, untransformed, wearing a simple sky-blue dress and a ribbon in her hair. Lucy blinked. The only evidence that she hadn't imagined that impressive display of magic was the tiniest of oscillations in Mira's chair, quickly stabilizing.
She thought of the barmaid who was often the first to be knocked out in Fairy Tail's brawls, and wondered if this was really the same person. No wonder her magical presence had been so eye-catching. She must have been training with Satan Soul a lot these past ten months.
Levy was wondering the same, if her stammering was any indication. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to- holy hell- I mean- MIRA?"
"But- but-" Blackjack was stammering, trigger-finger still clenching and relaxing in the empty air.
"Don't worry," Mira told him warmly. "I'm sure you didn't mean to try and shoot my friends. Or imprison them in a slaughterhouse from which they only just escaped alive. I know you were only looking out for me."
She finished this off with a completely guileless smile, which, if the way Blackjack's face immediately drained of blood was any indication, he interpreted as something else entirely.
"No!" Levy protested, still looking from their terrified captor to Mira sat leisurely in her godfather's chair, and back again. "This isn't- this makes no sense! I was told you were a barmaid! How do you get from that to mafia boss?"
"What do you mean, mafia boss?" Mira blinked. "I own a few bars, that's all."
Blackjack coughed. "You have an interest in every bar, club and hotel in Alstonia, along with many other successful business ventures."
"Only because people kept giving them to me!" Mira protested.
A slow grin spread across Lucy's face. "What, in return for protection?"
"In return for- for our efforts in monitoring the local hospitality sector! You know, like a regulatory body!"
"I think the word you're looking for is cartel."
Mira folded her arms with a huff. "I am not a mafia boss. I have never been so insulted in my life."
Lucy and Levy both glanced at Blackjack, who gave a minute shrug.
"Fine, have it your way," Lucy sighed. "I am, however, dying to know how someone who left the guildhall with an advertisement for a barmaid job in hand didn't end up as ruler of the city's underworld."
"Oh, you know how it goes," Mira prevaricated. "One thing just led to another. It wasn't that special, really."
Lucy and Levy gave her twin unimpressed looks.
"Alright, fine," she sighed. "Let's go up to the apartment. You two can get a shower and a change of clothes, and I'll tell you the whole story."