Ch. 06: A Man from Minstrel
On sight, I'm arrested by an entire squad of armed men, pointing taser spears and charging up their magic energy at me. Makarov said to obey their commands and say nothing until the judge was present, so when I'm ordered to get on the ground, I keep my hands up. Three men approach me; two spears hovered over my head in warning while the other man seats himself on my back to cuff me. I keep my eyes on the pebbles in the dirt to evade the stares of the guild members, to drown out Yuki's calls for me and Frosch's crying voice. It is fortunate, though, that most of the guild is off performing jobs around the country.
Makarov comes by my face as they secure the locks and mutters, "It's up to you, boy."
"What if I don't know what to say?"
"You know who you are. Show them how human you are."
"What does that mean?"
"Just be natural."
The guards yank me to my feet and shove me toward the waiting carriage and four more guards. "Rogue Cheney, you're under arrest for attempted murder while in operation with a foreign guild," says the tallest policeman to my right. The carriage is crowded with five other men—huge, grown men with bulky muscles and massive tattoos. I stop, throwing the policeman holding me into a stumble.
"Get moving," he says, assertively.
My skin burns when a sharp zap drives through my back. The shock is so immense that I have to kneel down in its duration. "Come on," the man behind orders in a gruff voice, standing tall with the taser-like a staff. I force myself to stand and do as told.
I'm seated at the end of the left bench, squished between the door and one of those heavyweights. They all stare at me. They can see the unease on my face like a wrinkle. I tense up when the guards take their seats in the coach, when I hear the slap of leather against skin accompanied by the horses' yelps. We move an inch, and I collapse against the wood. As if sitting down in a cramped area isn't uncomfortable enough with my hands behind my back. I can't move. "Hey, you okay?" someone asks.
A voice closer to me grunts, "You're awfully young to be in a situation like this. What'd you do, shorty?"
I melt to the ground on my face when the nausea becomes too severe to sit. Thankfully, someone else answers for me. "Didn't ya hear? The guard said attempted murder while in foreign land."
"Damn, kiddo," the first man chuckles. "You're only, like, twenty."
"Well…" I gag, and then swallow, "y'know. Hormones."
The entire cart lights up in laughter, excluding me. "The moment you become legal you choose to try to kill someone?" I never thought I'd be in the back of a jailing carriage, chatting and laughing with a handful of criminals like old friends. I grit my teeth when more of my breakfast comes up to will it back down. "I'd say you're in the right company, squirt." I can't move my head to see who he's pointing to, but he starts dishing out crimes like gift coupons. "Second-degree murder, three assault charges, two batteries, first-degree murder, and mass arson. And now you, the attempted murder case." He says this like I should be proud. "So, what was your mistake? Didn't cover up your tracks in time?"
I manage to sit against the door on the floor. Sweat trails down my face. "Actually, it was an accident."
"Your face is purple."
"Yeah, I know." I gag again.
"You get carriage-sick?" I nod, keeping my teeth clenched in case it comes back. "That's rough. We still got another hour to go."
I lose consciousness for the rest of the ride, only waking when the carriage stops. It's rather fortunate—I prefer not to have to wait for an hour to hear my fate. It's torture just to wait five minutes. I shake the dizziness from my head and stretch my neck. Through the iron-barred side window, there stands a huge building crafted of the dullest brick and complemented by a colossal wooden door. I can't help but be nervous. When it comes to talking about myself, I struggle miserably. I'm just no good at it. But I have to trust Makarov. I have to trust myself.
The door to the carriage is thrown open, sending me to the street. I land hard on my elbows and the numb pain snakes up my arms. The guards, because I'm incapable of standing on my own, snatch my arms and hoist me up like I've just attempted evasion. I'm shoved toward the towering castle. More like, torture chamber. The courtroom reeks of stale parchment and coffee and expensive ink. "Move," one of the policemen urges me forward with a baton.
We enter the room of judgment and I'm forced down to the floor. My hands are fettered with chains latched to the bolts in the ground, forced to kneel. They're pretty heavy, but I can still raise my arms over my head in case someone throws something at me. Right now, I just have to sit and prepare myself for this interrogation. I smell my brother and Gray seated together behind me in the second row. Wendy, too. Everyone's chattering and whispering my name behind their hands too loud to ignore. I stare at the judge's seat, wondering how this whole thing is going to turn out. I've read about how these things before. It never turns out in the defendant's favor, especially if the defendant is a slayer. Will I even get a chance to tell the truth? Or will I lose my head, break from these manacles, and unleash hell on everyone present? Just as the judges enters the cold room, my restraints are tightened even more around my waist, and the present officer spats a quick "dirty mutt" at me as he secures the chains holding my arms.
"All rise," I hear a husky voice grumble. Seeing as I'm literally one with the floor, I'm denied the ability to stand like the rest as the judge enters. "Bailiff."
This bailiff, a stout man with a balding head and thin frames, approaches me with a Bible. I stare at him, predicting when he's going to lose his nerve. I'm right—he stops just at the mark in which the chains would restrict me. "State your name and occupation status for the jury." I hear him mutter the word 'beast.'
"U-uh…" I glance at this jury—a collection of elderly men and women with tight expressions, middle-aged folks who really don't want to be here, and younger adults that look completely dumbfounded. But they all have something in common; they're watching me like I'm fragile, like a minefield. "R-Rogue…Cheney. Mage of the guild Sabertooth."
"Classification of speciation."
I stare at him, even though I know what he meant. He narrows his eyes at him in expectation. "Third-generation dragon-slayer."
The bailiff continues, holding the Bible not before me, but between us as to protect himself from me and my dark magic. "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the utmost truth under the pains and penalties of perjury?"
"Uh-huh." Master Makarov mouths 'I do' to me. "I mean, I do."
"And are you aware of the details listed in Sections IV and VI of the Reassurance Acts regarding court etiquette for dragon-slayers: 'If a slayer is deemed unworthy of rehabilitation, it will be exterminated, regardless of age, sex, occupation, etc.'; and 'A slayer can face execution for assault charges, especially if in light of a previous felony on its record'?"
So, basically, I'm already dead. To them, at least. "Yes. I'm aware."
The bailiff nods, and takes the Bible back to hold against his chest, scowling at me. "May God have mercy on you." He nods at the judge and takes his leave.
The judge seats himself. "You may be seated." He straightens his glasses and squints at the witness papers, and then at me. I shudder. "Rogue Cheney of the guild Sabertooth, located north of Crocus, correct?"
"Yes."
"Mr. Cheney." My name sounds like brown tar dribbling down his chin. "It has come to my attention that, based on witness accounts, you have assaulted and tragically injured Ms. Lucy Heartfilia in a random fit of anger." But I didn't. I didn't attack her because I was having a tantrum. "Some claim the attack was one of barbaric tendency, much like your offensive acts against Mr. Gajeel Redfox during the Grand Magic Games tournament, of which you have committed while in a foreign guild. Not to mention you are a dragon-slayer." A cold sweat slips between my shoulder blades, down the side of my face, seizing my entire being like binding rope. I bite my tongue. "Is that correct?"
"Partially. But—" He waves off the rest of my excuse with a hand, barely granting me a full gaze.
"Answer with a yes or no."
"Yes, but I didn't do it on purpose."
"You understand that, as a dragon-slayer, you are subject to what is listed in the Reassurance Acts?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever been convicted of another crime prior to this case?"
"No." That one comes out with an edge, but it's true. I've been accused of more crimes than hair on my head; however, no one's ever held me down long enough to attend court. And in the rare occasion they do, my past wrongdoings have already expired.
"As a member of Sabertooth, you are in operation with Fairy Tail because…?" He opens his hands, implying I should answer.
I gulp and take a deep breath. "My assistance was needed. I-I was summoned to complete a list of jobs for Master Makarov Dreyar as a mage."
He nods with an unreachable stare that does not bode well in my stomach. If it's possible, I feel myself shrinking into the pole, into the ground. "Is that the real reason you came, Cheney?"
"Yes."
"Truthfully?"
"Rogue came to see me, as well," Kagura announces, standing. "We live in separate guilds, with me at Mermaid Heel. He had a few assignments, but he's been waiting for an opportunity to see me." It's true, but where the hell has she been? "I just so happened to be at Fairy Tail around the time the message was sent, so I arranged my schedule to make sure we could see each other again."
I lash my head around to give a silencing glare, to keep her from getting washed up in this. But her eyes are narrowed with the judge's, fiery and piercing. He eyes her, then me, then her again with suspicion in the wrinkles by the corners of his eye. "Is that true?" Kagura nods surely at me to go through with it. "Cheney?"
I blink hard, hating myself for not thinking of another way to take the attention away from her. "Y-yes." As dirty and disgraceful I feel for using my girl to my own advantage, I can't help but feel at least a little bit relieved that she's here.
"Miss…?" says the judge.
Kagura squints. "Kagura Mikazuchi."
"Ms. Mikazuchi," he considers, looking at me, "is your mate?" He sounds so amused, it's sickening.
"She is my girlfriend." People stare in awe and doubt at me, then Kagura. "Of two years now."
"That's awfully risky to try and manipulate the jury," the judge accuses as if he has any intent on helping me. This must be why people hire lawyers—not because they can't fight for themselves, but because no one wants to listen to the evildoer. There aren't even witnesses allowed to testify; it's all about what the judge thinks and what I have to say. Partially. "It's awfully sickening that something as barbaric as a dragon-slayer can even consider itself worthy of love." It's nauseating to know that such a negative view of dragon-slayers still exists in this part of the country, near the almighty guild of Fairy Tail. Or is it prejudice against the incompetent dragon-slayers who can't control their magic? Either way, I'm screwed. "From what I've read, you're nothing but a criminal who belongs in a penitentiary."
"Wait!" Frosch's voice escalates with slight traces of tears. Everyone turns to him. He's out in the aisle, holding both paws up, trembling. "You can't say that!" The judge bangs his gavel in an attempt to quiet him down, but to no avail. "Rogue isn't like that! You can't say those mean things about him!"
"Frosch," I admonish, baring my teeth at him. If he keeps talking, he'll have cuffs on his paws sooner than I can think of a way to revert the attention back on myself. He falls silent and, although my first response is to comfort him, my eyes trail over his head at a black bird soaring near the courthouse from at least fifteen miles away. Levy comes into the aisle and picks him up in her arms, taking him back to her seat.
The judge clears his throat. "Cheney, you stated you were summoned for duty to Fairy Tail."
"Yes." I turn back to face him.
"You realize that any attack of a foreign member in a foreign guild is an act of potential civil conflict between the foreign guild and your native guild?"
"I—…yes. You're talking in circles—"
"And you realize that you have committed two crimes—attempted murder and illegal use of your magic in a time of peace?"
My throat is parched with irritation. "It's not that black and white—"
"Yes or no."
"You can't expect me to—"
"Yes or no, Mr. Cheney."
"…Yes."
The judge scratches his cheek, scanning through some papers. The only sound is the flapping of whatever it is he's got his nose in. I take this moment to look out the window again. There's something strange about that thing I saw. It looked familiar in the slightest way, a vague chain of tattered memories that I can't quite piece together. "Despite your claim to have been a hopeless romantic saint prior to this case—"
"I never said that—"
He smacks his gavel down hard, drawing a shiver from my chest. "Silence." I freeze. Makarov was wrong. I don't have it in me to speak in my defense in a court. What was I thinking to let him wrongfully encourage me? "I've received your infamous ledger." My heart stops. It's one of those moments that steal the breath straight from your body, that rips out your soul from the shell and slams it into the floor, leaving you vulnerable. Exposed. He studies me. "I can't say it's disappointing. In fact, it's despicable!" My shoulders hike up when he spats that last part. I can pinpoint which of my offenses his eyes trace over by the widespread fury and nausea on his face. Kill counts: suspected to be 5, and perhaps counting—that's what the papers say. In truth, I've taken more than 200 in my near-4 centuries of life. "Tell us: were all these kills under the jurisdiction of your guild's master, Sting Eucliffe?"
"No!"
"Stealing national treasures." A wave of gasps and stifled cries invade my ears as he descends the list. All I can manage to do is stare at him, horrorstricken. "Battery, burglary, extortion, fraud, espionage on multiple accounts, suspected unrelated murders to the aforementioned, voluntary and involuntary manslaughter…"
The ugliness and remorse and self-loathing return with full force. Dozens of eyes witness how my shoulders tense, how my expression goes stagnant, how my skin pales, how my very soul seems to cringe at every breath. One breath isn't enough. Praying whatever information he has does not name all my crimes, I wait anxiously for each: larceny, arson, murders in all degrees, abduction, questionable actions that could pass as potential treason, definite treason, bribery, identity theft, mass genocide in three unrelated cases, unjust interrogation.
But instead, he says, "Wow…I have never felt such an immense disgust prior to this moment. I have only skimmed over your files, and I can understand why it is said you belong in a penitentiary for life. Though it seems you've been pardoned because you have been loyal to a Fiore guild for years without a single offense. That all, however, may change in this courtroom, today."
"Look, I—"
"Silence." He throws the papers at me, each with my wrongdoings in bold print, each with my picture on the left corner—rare street shots to even rarer mugshots. In some of them, I'm bruised, haggard, and guilt-ridden. Others show the side of me I'm terrified of, the me that's snarling almost proudly at the camera, ruffled all the same. You can see the hue of bloodthirst in my eyes. Along with expression, the color of my hair, and amount of hair on my chin, my face—that face—holds a particular smirk that shows I've lost count of the lives I'd ruined, that I'd stopped caring. My aliases, my differing expressions, and crimes form a suffocating horseshoe of paper around me. "And you're here to prove your innocence." The jury explodes in demands to see me punished for my crimes. Humiliated, tortured, killed…one man screams for decapitation. Another calls for hanging.
I can't bear to look at Kagura, and yet her silence is just as haunting as having her hear this. I refuse to catch Yukino's gaze, and I can hear Laxus mumbling that he was right about my being dangerous to MJ. A plague. The fact that Makarov is silent makes this even worse. He's given up on me, too, but I'm in no right to be upset about that. "All these crimes and you've never been held accountable in court." He slams a fist down and scowls at me. "How lucky am I."
I know I can break free of these manacles and fight my way to freedom if I detach from my natural state. I know if I allow my shadow time to get me as far away from here as possible, I'd only regret it…because it will kill everyone in the area. I have to stay, or I'll risk everyone's lives.
"All those crimes force me to question whose side you truly are on." The judge bangs his gavel to restore peace in the room. "But from the goodness of my heart," I meet his eyes through my hair, "I will not read all of your crimes aloud. I feel the message has gotten through quite efficiently. It's evident on your face." He leans forward on his elbows. "Are these truly crimes you've committed?"
I stare in a horrified stupor at him, visibly crumbling under the pressure of a thousand eyes on the back of my head. Shaking, I struggle for air and words. Straining for my own defense.
"Answer the question or shall we add perjury to your ledger? I will ask again. Have you, Rogue Cheney of Sabertooth, committed the crimes visible on those papers?"
I know a person can't be tried for any other crime than what he was arrested for. But I also know dragon-slayers aren't always considered people, too. I should keep a level head and answer directly before they use a truth spell on me. In the tiniest voice I've spoken in years, I whisper, "Yes…" The crowd uproars again, and someone throws a pamphlet that smacks the back of my head almost too perfectly.
"Considering these reports, demanding your immediate imprisonment, I'll ask you this: did you intentionally attack Ms. Lucy Heartfilia?"
"No, I did not." My voice is barely my own.
"Then why is she hospitalized? Did you harm her to the extent of denying her testifying against you?"
"No," I frown. "She is hospitalized because of her injuries. I'm telling you it was an accident. I have no reason to harm anyone."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm not lying."
"Humorous choice of words. Did you forget about your ledger? Harming people is in your nature—"
"Your Honor," Yukino shoots from her seat. "Rogue is not lying." When I turn to her, I barely recognize her. She frowns at the judge with scorning eyes, ignoring the crowd's eyes on her. "I too am of the guild Sabertooth. I have known Rogue for years now, and I know he would never intentionally harm another unless the peace is being threatened. We trust his judgment." We lock eyes. "Rogue would never cause damage without reason, and he would never hurt Lucy. Whatever is on that ledger…if any of those claims are more than simple claims,he is completely different now."
"Please, Your Honor," Cana's melodic voice almost makes me choke. She never crossed me as the type to implore. "Master Makarov would not allow Rogue access to Fairy Tail nor would he ask for his help if he could not be trusted. He would not be here if he had any intention to assault anyone."
"She's right," Gray stands. "I talked to Rogue a few hours after the incident. He said he would never hurt Lucy." A twinge of guilt churns my stomach, but it's not my own. Mine's different. I squint at him, and when he meets my eyes, his irises are granite. "He was telling the truth." The 'but' is evident in the set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes. And he scowls a little, his grip on Wendy's arm tightened, pulling her behind him.
Rightfully so. He's a good man, good father. It's only in his nature to protect against things like me.
"And he still is," Gajeel intervenes. I turn to him, then away. "The brat is annoying as hell, but he's not a lying bastard. If he had no reason to cause harm, he wouldn't do anything. He's actually a little punk."
I roll out my shoulders the best I can, making the chains jingle with my every move. For a moment I was shocked to hear them all stick up for me. Especially Yuki after I lashed out at her. Then again, they're all good people. But that won't affect what I know is going to happen. My eyes search the crowd—most of them are plain citizens of Magnolia and the front row is decorated with a few Fairy Tail members. But then I spot members from home sitting beside Yuki. Daryk, Finn, and grudgingly Grigia. Even Fiore's freelance nomad Adelphi is here, as if there's nothing else going on in the world.
"I see." Judging by the false undertone of his voice, the judge finds everyone's statements to be insignificant. He rests his chin in his palm as if he's trying to figure out another way to convict me. "Anyone else have something to say?" Everyone exchanges looks. Laxus snorts and mutters something about the judge being a poor excuse of a justice server, about the time I pulled a knife on him. "All right. So…" A man in formal wear scurries to his side and flashes a briefcase under the podium, trading ambiguous words behind the flat of their hands. Can people even do this in court?
They both nod in unison, agreeing to something unheard of to the other twenty-something people in the room. It doesn't take a special investigator to know that he's got loads of money to offer. Bribery; a judge giving into one of the crimes listed on my ledger. He nods again and dismisses the man with the briefcase. "Stand."
The guard who referred to me as a dirty mutt snatches my arm and hoists me up to my feet. The cuffs chaff the skin on my wrists.
"Rogue Cheney of Sabertooth."
My heart pounds, and I can't think; there's only his face, his voice, chastising me as I'm defenseless.
"On behalf of the court of Fiore, in consideration of the Reassurance Act; and the members of Magnolia's jury, considering the voices of the mages of the guild, Fairy Tail; I hereby sentence you," I can sense the verdict before he even finishes, "to immediate death by modified lethal injection."
My entire soul compresses at the haunting slam of his gavel. Lethal injection—the kind I witnessed in action back when Jiemma was master. Kiernan Ackles. His fate is soon to be mine.
The crowd uproars—in celebration or horror, I can't tell. The former, more likely. I fall into a numb stupor, letting the guards drag me along. But hearing the pleading cries of those I love gives me just enough energy to lift my head.
"You can't sentence him to death without the consent of his guildmaster!" Yukino calls out.
Grigia screams, "He didn't kill anyone!"
The judge's eyes trail to me, disdainfully. "It's for the greater good."
The stench of poison fills the room as we go outside, the crowd and jury following us to the open courtyard with two posts in the middle. I'm bound on my knees, my arms pulled and chained outwards, like I'm an offering—the starting piece of the sick show they crave. To them, it's justice being served for the greater good.
I give a short tug on the chains, and then the menacing thought processes in my mind. I've been sentenced to death.
Yukino's still calling for me, fighting Grigia's hold. I inspect the crowd, scanning every face and gesture. Some people huddle around the judge or Makarov to beg for my life. Others simply enjoy the show, pumping their fists. Frosch's safely in the arms of Pantherlily, sobbing, thrashing around to try and get to me. I can't see anything but specks of sunlight and some blurry figures. I smell the chemical getting closer, this time with a hint of…gasoline. A well-dressed man with gloved hands and a tray containing a vile of liquid and a needle approaches me from the left. Sweat runs down my face as I try the restraints. I suck in some air and hold it. With that small amount, there's no way they can kill me, but that never stops the fear of needles. Of the agony that follows, and the way death will never come at the final stage. A bittersweet relief.
I catch myself staring into the small vile of orange liquid, remembering what tortures it forces its victims to endure. Three stages, each matching in agony. An agony so relentless, the host would beg for the death that makes no haste, an added effect to further torment the wrongdoer. I avert my focus elsewhere to figure out an escape plan. The bird-like figure draws closer, heading straight towards us, hidden behind the screen of clouds. Wait—I scowl—it's coming at us. "Hey!" I call out to the howling crowd. I move my head to the right just in time to evade a muddy shoe. When it hits the pole, chunks of the stuff fly off the sole and smack me in the face. "Look!"
"Rogue Cheney," the man with the poison injection begins, "you have committed attempted murder while in operation with an allied guild—"
"You don't understand! You have to run—"
"Silence!" he hisses. The object—a plane?—dips its nose and starts descending, diving. If we wait any longer, everyone in the town will get hurt…or die.
I can smell gunpowder under its gasoline top layer. Loads of it. "Turn around! Something's coming!"
But no one's listening to me. The man continues, "…thus risking the threat of civil war in the land of Fiore. As a member of a guild within the borders of Fiore—"
"LISTEN to me! You have to go!" I yell out louder than expected. My voice echoes through the courtyard, but no one seems to hear me.
"—which can be considered an act of treason. Both crimes punishable by death."
Yuki's tearful voice slices through the air. "ROGUE, NO!"
People scream out louder, but not at my warning. I block out the commotion and take in the scent in the air again and soon realize it's a hovercraft. "You have to get out of h—!" Every vein in my body thickens, churns, and contracts so tight, I fear they might burst. It's excruciating. I cringe. I trace the orange hue polluting and outlining my veins through my skin to the needle spewing the liquid. I feel it coming, but as a temporary visitor. I black out for some time I can't recall, the final echo in my head a scream from Yuki.
…
…
…
…
…
…
The air has thickened with the fluttering of the engines and the stench of burning coal taints the air. I scan the area, fighting blurred vision against heavy eyelids. It must have only been minutes.
The plane. Shit.
I break free from the chains, track Frosch down again, and take him in my arms when he runs towards me. My first thought is to take cover…that is, until I see Yuki running towards me as well, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. Over her head is the hovercraft. I tackle her to the ground and hold myself over her and Frosch.
The explosion shakes Magnolia. Debris-filled wind rushes in all directions, so I hold both of their heads to my chest and slam my eyes shut. Frosch's tail lashes my face in the harsh wind and Yuki's tears soak through my shirt as she desperately paws at my back. If there's one thing that scares me the most right now, it would not be the injection or the explosion. It would be the distant sound of everyone's screams.
Yuki lets out a deafening howl and retracts her hand. The metallic smell of blood attacks my nose. My back is burnt from the fire, melting my shirt and scorching my skin, exposing bone. I stifle cries of pain to keep my body in front of theirs. No matter what. Dust rains down on us, masking the courtyard with a blanket of tan and gray.
Frosch uncovers his ears slowly, eyes wide and terrified as he looks around, quivering. Yukino holds her bleeding hand to her chest and stares at me. She screams and inspects my back, panicked. "Rogue!"
The pain distorts my voice as I speak, "G-uys, you o-kay?" Frosch slowly averts his eyes to me before the sight steals his voice. "Are you…" I wince, "hurt?" He shakes his head, holding his paws to his face in horror.
"Oh, my God!" Yukino gasps, placing her hands on my arm, not sure what to do. "Let me—… Here, I can—" I sit back on my heels and close my eyes, hoping it will somehow mend the pain. Even if by a little. "Rogue, what—"
"It's fine," I cut in. Then the others see me. Screams escalate to those of fear, of dread, of someone's worst nightmare coming true. I place my hand over the prick mark and pull it away to see the orange poison staining my fingers.
The crowd wails louder, if possible. But I don't care. Fingers pointing at me in fear. "He rose from the dead!"
"Monster!"
"Unbelievable!"
Over them, Wendy immediately calls as she runs to my side, shaken, but focused, "Rogue-senpai, let me heal—"
I have to stand to let my skin regrow. Little known fact about us third-gens—with a lot of concentration and magic energy, we can heal ourselves. We still feel the pain of our injuries, but we're rarely struck down hard enough to be kept down. Finally, after a few more seconds, my wounds heal, the pain dies down, and so do the screams.
Instead, stares of interest and caution are shot my way. "How is he alive?"
"Didn't he get injected?"
The executioner implores, "I gave him the max dose!"
"The needle is in his arm! How is he still alive?!" The judge's voice.
With a final breath, all the pain slips away without a trace. Wendy watches me, frozen, until I give her my hand. "Wendy," I say. "Are you okay?" I'm interrupted by the chilling cackling of a man emerging from the dust. I scan the area to see everyone else on their knees or unconscious.
"Move aside," he orders me, without giving me a single glance of acknowledgment.
He won't let Wendy go without attacking. Question is: who? "Frosch," I say without taking my eyes off the stranger, "get out of here. Take Yuki and go find the others." As Frosch reluctantly goes, the man approaches us. I force Wendy behind me. "Who are you?" She clings to the remaining burnt fabric of my shirt, peeking around my body.
He gestures outwardly. "I am…simply a man from Minstrel. I am here for a dragon-slayer, one that I hear is of Fairy Tail." Could he be after Brother or Wendy? Both? Why would he want them? A stupid question: of course, he's after their magic. "So, which one of you possesses dragon-slaying magic?"
"What's it to you?" Instead of answering me, he motions for two guards behind him to kick me away from Wendy and start taking her to the aircraft behind that man. It takes about five seconds for my vision to clear before I realize this. "Wendy?" I'm kicked one more time in the face that makes blood come out of my nose. They beat me without pause for a couple seconds, blurring my vision again, forcing blood from my nose; I reach out towards them as they drag her away. "Wait…stop…" I get to my feet, wobbling. I have to keep moving. "You…can't take her…!" No one notices me, so I cast shadows to spread like carpet and immobilize everyone in the quicksand-like magic. The only one who isn't sinking is me.
Levy screams in terror as Laxus hollers above everyone else's voices, "What are you doing, Saber?"
"Ryos!" Gajeel scolds.
Everyone stares at me; those of Fairy Tail, the man and his guards, the jury and officers, and the judge. But I'm focused on the man trying to abduct a kid. No one moves until he complies. He stares with this queer countenance of fear and wonder at my magic, at me, with squinting eyes. "I can't? And what are you going to do about it?"
I frown. "Shadow Drive." Shadows lash out from my body, my hair rises, and black marks up my skin. Just as I'm about to attack…I don't. "She's not the one you're looking for," I say, assertively. Kagura screams for me, but I tune it out. "My name is Rogue Cheney. The shadow dragon-slayer…a third-generation." No one notices, but as I speak, I'm slowly reeling Wendy away from them.
"A third-generation dragon-slayer?" he considers my words, but all I can think about is Sting. "I've never heard of that before. I thought it was simply a myth."
"You should show some respect, as your myth has proven to be true." The damage he's done to Magnolia is severe. Fighting him would only cause more damage and risk more lives. I can smell danger on him like cologne. There's no way I'm going to put others' lives at stake when there is something I know I can do to make this stop. I grab Wendy's wrist when she's in range and put her behind me again. "Why settle for an outdated dragon-slayer?" I mutter an apology to her, but she goes on about this being a terrible idea. I wave her off. "Sh, Wendy," I turn back to the man. "I'm not asking. I'm offering myself to you. A first-gen cannot give you what I can."
"So, what you're telling me is that your magic exceeds that of a first-generation dragon-slayer?"
"I am."
Cana's hasty voice strikes through my core from a distance, "Rogue! Stop! You can't—"
"What the hell are you thinking, Ryos?!" Gajeel cuts back in. "We can fight him! Stand down!"
"You stand down!" I shout back to everyone, connecting eyes with each of them. "Stay back."
The man continues, "And you'd give up your freedom and possibly your life to spare this girl's?"
"Yes," I assert, "although I doubt you'll be able to hold me for long. Question is, are you up for the challenge?" He sneers, and I'm positive now that I've got him.
"Rogue!" Gray calls. "No! Listen to your brother and let us help!"
"Take a look around!" I snap, clenching my fists, taking a step more massive than I ever thought I'd take. "All of you! Stay out of this!" I'm not sure if I'm trying to prove something, but something…something urges me to do this. "I can manage," I state. "Deal or no deal?" I cross my arms over my chest to appear larger, stronger than I actually am.
The intruder's inspect me up and down, those cold eyes studying every fiber of my being. I can almost feel them tracing my arms, down my legs, and back up to my face. I shiver. "All right," he finally agrees and motions his guards to me.
The breath I've been clasping onto since I spoke up comes heavily in a harsh, relieved exhale. I drop my arms and put my hands in the air. "Wendy, go." She doesn't move. In the slow process it takes for my Drive to subside and in the small amount of time I have to say it, I spin around and kneel to Wendy's eye level. "I said get out of here," I order.
"You can't let them take you!" Tears stream down her face. "I can fight, too!"
"I know you can," I say. "But your guildmates might need your healing. They need you." After I make this point, we go back and forth about my safety and how—as a healer—she can't afford being taken. I'm not all interested in hearing her trying to persuade me out of my decision. Anyway, after I win the argument, she stares at me, eyes shining. She nods quickly. I stand and place a hand on her head. "Hurry, and don't look back. Go!"
Wendy takes a few steps before taking off to tend to the others, running into the dusty remains of the courthouse. Her attention is directed to Lisanna's ankle when I feel a slight pinch in the side of my neck. My body falls numb and my vision dilates, spiraling in and out of focus. I collapse on my face. I can't move. The last glimpse of consciousness I'm granted consists of being dragged to the aircraft and falling out the moment the engine growls.
