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All right, all right. Without further adieu... Back into the Ring we go...
rated: M for mature content
summary: In a world of underground fighting only the strong survive, abiding by the rules of kill or be killed. In the Ring, a feeble emotion like hope is all it takes to destroy you. And yet it exists– and those who hold onto it play a dangerous game. But once you enter into the Ring, it will never let you go.
CHAPTER THREE
Spar
boxing for practice
Natsu was tense, and for good reason. His scarf hung loose around his neck, sliding off with a short tug on one tail. He clicked his tongue, catching Happy's attention as he folded it and tucked it underneath a bench. Obediently, the cat dropped his butt right on top of the bundled fabric as if it belonged to him, standing guard over Natsu's scarf.
Nervousness raced through him though, pulsing through his veins as he waited for his new student to arrive. Wendy was bound to be unhappy and scared, and Natsu really did not have the faintest idea on how to comfort her and train her at the same time. His eyes flashed over to where his own guards were watching him with a keen eye. Under their meaty arms they held electric batons and syringes filled with drugs that could knock an elephant out in under a minute.
How could he help her when he couldn't help himself?
Sure enough, when the doors to the gym opened and she was lead in, tears were already streaming down her face as she clutched something white and furry in her arms. She was lead in by Zancrow, his wild eyes dancing with mirth and dark humor at the little girl's suffering.
"Here ya go, Salamander, fresh from the basement! Isn't she an early bird?" Zancrow shoved Wendy forward, causing her to stumble against the tiles, struggling to right herself so she wouldn't drop whatever she had in her arms.
Taking a closer look, Natsu could see the tufted ears and furry tail.
His heart clenched at the sight.
Zeref had already gotten her a cat.
He'd already effectively sunk his claws into the girl, and judging from the look on her face, she understood that. Because she would undoubtedly care for the cat. And that very same cat would be used against her for years to come - a constant companion as well as a ball and chain.
It was a twisted way of keeping fighters in check. Twisted, but effective.
Zancrow watched with relish as Wendy hesitantly made her way to Natsu's side. "Have fun," he crooned, grinning, and then bounded off.
Zancrow left the gym with ease that would never be gifted to Natsu. Not unless he decided to usurp the Master.
And that would never happen.
Natsu softened the glower on his face before glancing down at the girl by his side. She was looking pointedly at the dingy ground, arms wrapped protectively around her white fluffball, and shaking like a leaf in the wind. And it wasn't because she was cold - the gym was far from chilly.
"What did you name it?" Natsu asked.
The soft-spoken question might as well have been a shout from the way the girl jumped. But, when she looked up at him, she managed to quell her shaking.
"Charlotte," Wendy murmured, stroking white fur. "Charle for short."
The small cat released an agreeable meow that somehow managed to sound prim and succinct.
Natsu snorted with amusement. "Fitting. You can put her by Happy if you want." He gestured to his own cat, dutifully guarding his ratty scarf.
Happy meowed and flicked his tail eagerly.
Wendy appeared taken aback by Natsu's civil behavior and calm tones. Like she was genuinely surprised that he'd bothered to establish rapport with her rather than tossing her into the ring and having fun right off the bat.
In all likelihood, that was what she'd been promised.
Wordlessly, Wendy took Charle to the bench and set her beside Happy. Who immediately began purring and wrapped his blue and white tail around the she-cat protectively.
Natsu scoffed.
It seemed as though Happy had taken a liking to the white cat.
"Well, Wendy, you can call me Salamander," Natsu introduced himself.
There wasn't much else he could do to put her at ease. Soon she would be assigned her own name depending on her style of fighting and would lose the identity she once had. The least he could do until then was call her by her real name.
"Hello," she said with a shy, watery smile, one that almost reached her eyes. Like she was finding a small kernel of kindness in a dark place.
Natsu didn't have the heart to dissuade her.
"So, I'm supposed to be teaching you the ropes." Natsu set his hands on his hips, flashing her a smile of his own that helped to clear some of the haze from her face. "What's your style?"
Wendy's eyes darted to the ground, and she shifted her feet nervously. "You probably don't know it…" she told him shyly. "My trainer said it's very rare. She didn't teach any other kids the same one. M-maybe you wanna teach me yours instead."
"Nonsense," Natsu reassured her with a smile, crouching down in front of her. "Your style is important to you, isn't it? I don't care if I don't know it, you can always teach me too, okay?"
This, at last, made a genuine smile appear on her face. She wiped the tears off her cheeks, her eyes grateful as she nodded at him.
He nodded back, always a watchful eye on the guards. If they didn't start soon they'd make them start. And he wouldn't let them touch Wendy, which meant… well, it'd be safer to train her now than to pick a fight and have her training assigned to someone else.
"Let's get started, then!" he called, jumping back up.
Getting into his fighting stance, he watched her do the same. She was a shy and timid girl, but he had a feeling she'd be a good student.
"Show me how you fight, then," he challenged. "And maybe I can guess your style!"
He raised his hands, his fingers loose and palms turned outward. Wendy seemed hesitant to strike out at him, but a worried glance over her shoulder at the nearby guards had her weakly flinging a fist out at his palm.
Natsu batted it away, blowing air out through his nose. It was clear she was intimidated. He had been too when he started, too busy thinking about how worried his dad probably was to concentrate on training.
Acnologia had pounded on him until he had no choice but to fight back. It was a less than acceptable method for Natsu to do for Wendy, but it did give him an idea.
Quickly, before Wendy could react, Natsu caught one of her long pigtails between his fingers and gave a light tug.
She yelped at the sudden tilting, her eyes wide on him.
"Gotcha." Natsu grinned at her, gesturing at her with his chin for her to get back into position. "If you keep your hair long, you've gotta remember to keep your guard up."
Wendy's mouth opened and shut a moment later, a flash of determination bursting in her eyes.
"R-right!"
This time when she came at him, her form was tighter. It seemed the gentle lesson broke through to her enough for her to steps she took were sliding but light, moving on the balls of her feet almost like a ballerina.
It was curious.
The steps were familiar, even if the way they were taken was different. Wendy moved with less finesse than other fighters, but there was no mistaking that footwork or art.
This time when she swung at Natsu, her aim was much truer. She did it with enough force that it made a loud smacking noise when it connected with Natsu's hand.
He recoiled a little, not because the attack from a twelve year old girl had injured him, but because of what she was performing.
Dragonslaying arts.
The revelation was a literal shock to his system. As far as he knew, there were only a very small handful of Masters of the style even alive at any given time. His father, Igneel, had been a master of the fire arts.
Now it made sense why Zeref would assign her training to him. The only other person suitable for the job was Acnologia.
They were the only two people in Tartaros who practiced the style.
Apart from Acnologia's training, Natsu had only ever fought other dragonslaying fighters in the Ring. They had come from Phantom, or Sabertooth. This was the first time he had someone practice the art in his ring, as a fellow fighter. Acnologia had long left the role of a victim behind, much preferring to keep the Ring alive as Zeref's cruel right hand.
Now there was another dragonslaying fighter in Tartaros again.
Wendy was valuable.
Somehow Natsu wasn't sure if that was a kindness. At least not for Wendy. She would be sent into the ring more than other fighters, her training more intense - and if she didn't meet Zeref's expectations, there would be consequences.
Natsu's stance shifted with Wendy's as she whizzed past him. He tapped her right between the shoulderblades, twisting around her in sharp movements. His were more precise than hers, a focus to his footwork she hadn't mastered just yet.
But it was enough for her eyes to brighten with recognition, and she went completely still for a moment.
"Do you - " Wendy couldn't finish her question. He closed the space between them in a fast motion and she yelped when Natsu prodded at her forehead.
Natsu grinned as Wendy's cheeks swelled in a pout, her lips puffing together and her hands coming up to her forehead.
"I think I got a good measure of your skill now." Natsu's arms lifted to guard his center and face. He parted them just enough for Wendy to see his wide grin. "Why don't you take a couple good swings at me?"
"Are you sure?" Wendy asked him, although the hesitance she held earlier in her gaze looked more steadfast.
"Lay it on me."
- : : -
Lucy slammed a flat hand onto the table, her eyes sparkling as she leaned so far over the surface that she almost bumped foreheads with Gajeel.
"I knew it!"
"This isn't exactly good news, y'know," Gajeel grunted. "This Wendy girl would've been better off if she'd run away. If the Ring has her..."
Sobering up as quickly as she had flipped, Lucy nodded, her brows furrowing in worry.
"I'm convinced that one of the rings is behind all this," she repeated her mantra. "If we could just find out more about them, locate one of their hiding spots, infiltrate…"
Gajeel grunted again, dismissively.
The unnerving glint was back in Lucy's eyes. The one she always got when she fantasized about busting the Ring.
Hell, he was one of the first people in line who wanted the exact same thing!
But it was so much easier said than done. Even if they, through some semi-miracle, were able to track down just one location, they'd have a limited amount of time in highly surveilled surroundings to somehow dig up even the smallest of clues…
Granted, it was not impossible - but it came very close.
The Ring never stood still. The fighting locations changed with every tournament, and only a selected few inside their system knew where that was. And the fighters damn sure weren't included. None of them had ever known a damn thing about where they were dragged to - they'd made sure of that.
It made Gajeel furious.
He'd been held captive for years, and - only through outside help and an insane amount of luck - had accomplished the impossible: he'd gotten out.
And he hadn't been able to tell the police a single fucking useful thing.
They'd never found Phantom.
"Gajeel!" Lucy beckoned, and he snapped back to reality.
"I've done it before," she told him fiercely, knowing eyes digging into him. Damn right she had. He wouldn't be here today if she hadn't. "I will supply all monetary needs. Tell me the sum and I will pay. I can help you. Only people with money have a chance of getting one of the tickets to begin with."
They glared at each other for a moment.
"Even if I could somehow obtain tickets," Gajeel started, ignoring the way hope brightened her face, "you're not doing anything."
She squinted at him. "Oh, come on! I basically work for the police at this point! And I don't even ask for a wage." She winked. "Besides - you would need me. They'd see right through any of your undercover cops. You need someone who- who exudes the proper behaviour and elegance. The flair of being brought up rich. I'm your best bet."
Satisfied, Lucy blinked at a fuming Gajeel.
Even if the amount of narcissism in her words made him want to gag - she had a point.
It was exactly this narcissism that spoke in her favour. She'd never been able to completely shake it, and in the same way, it was near impossible to be learned. Her penchant for luxury, her love of attention and her knowledge of all the dos and don'ts high society brought with it were exactly what they'd need.
But the thought of Lucy endangering herself didn't sit right with Gajeel.
Then again - that had never stopped her.
"If," Gajeel started slowly, "and this's a very shaky if, I manage to get you one of those tickets you gotta swear you'll listen to me. I'm the one runnin' this rodeo. Capiche?" His eyes narrowed, but Lucy only flashed him a dimpled smile that made so many men swoon.
The girl was nothing but trouble and she used that to her advantage.
Lucy lifted two fingers to her forehead in a mock salute. "Aye-aye, captain!" she chirped.
"That means no griping about my methods. No goin' solo. And definitely no sassin' me," he grumbled to which she laughed.
"No promises on that." Lucy winked.
- : : -
Gajeel couldn't believed he'd been weaseled into seeking out a ticket for the Ring.
In all his years of fantasizing about how he'd take down this organization he'd never once thought about sending a man undercover. Or, rather, Lucy undercover - of all people. She was a journalist, a damn good one, but sometimes she let her reporting instincts take control despite the situation.
This was dangerous. But...it was their best shot.
Blinking up at the cloudy sky, Gajeel inhaled slowly before pushing open the door to the old gym.
The place was well attended as usual, and he made directly for the counter.
He'd found this gem not long after he'd been reintroduced to society - a task that had proven rather hard. He'd struggled a lot, most of all with anger issues that just wouldn't leave him alone, and he'd just craved an outlet. And he'd found it.
The owner, an intimidating woman with an eye-patch, had told him that the place used to be more of a dojo during one of their training sessions. She'd kept part of it intact, but had renovated the rest into a gym that lacked nothing a fitness fan's heart desired.
It was her who awaited him now, a smile transforming her stern face into that of a gentle, kind woman. It was a trap. She was merciless.
"Erza," he greeted with a small nod and held out his hand.
Erza's pretty face melted into a saccharine smile that would have lulled most people into a false sense of security. But Gajeel knew what that smile really meant and he swallowed, feeling suddenly much too hot…
"Gajeel." She took his hand in a firm grip that didn't match her serene expression. And then she squeezed. "What do you need?"
Though she was only squeezing with half of her strength, he felt the small bones in his hand groaning. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable.
"What...makes you think I need something?" Gajeel managed to say after a small pause.
She wasn't letting go of his hand.
One brown eye narrowed in a hawkish glare before Erza snorted and released him finally. The sweet, innocent look was gone and replaced with another that Gajeel was much more familiar with - her pensive, knowing look. She propped a hand on the curve of her hip and surveyed him smoothly.
"Nowadays you only visit when you need something," she grumbled. Her eye flicked up to stare at him and the corner of her lip curved. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're scared of me or something."
Gajeel held himself back from snarling yeah, right! at the very last second. Instead, he huffed, crossing his scarred arms over a muscular chest. He'd never admit it. Never.
"Maybe I found a better trainer than you," he challenged defiantly, ready to flinch back if need be.
But Erza remained calm. "There's no better trainer than me," she dead-panned. "Not for you, anyways."
Well, he couldn't really object.
"You're right, though," he admitted, "I do need something."
Erza clicked her tongue, observing him and his serious expression closely. Then she nodded.
"Come along," she instructed, and he rounded the counter to follow her into a small room where sheets of paper were stacked almost to the ceiling. The air was muggy.
Well, someone didn't like paperwork.
They both took a seat at the small table in the center, where a half-eaten lunch was getting cold. It reminded him that he should probably grab a bite to eat too.
"So," Erza prompted as she leaned back in her chair, "what can I do for you, Mr. Redfox?"
The use of his last name made him snort. "Are you still seeing that guy?" he asked.
"What guy?" Erza's shoulders stiffened and her face went carefully neutral.
That guy, Gajeel thought to himself, was a fugitive. Wanted for crimes committed many years before. And he'd been arrested and served part of his sentence...before mysteriously disappearing without a trace. The authorities - Gajeel included - had never been able to narrow down his whereabouts.
But...there were rumors that this guy had certain connections. One of them being the Ring.
And it just so happened that Erza was secretly - or, not so secretly - seeing this man. In the romantic sense.
Even though she obviously denied it.
Erza Scarlet protected her loved ones with a ferocity that Gajeel had never encountered before meeting her.
"You know exactly who I'm talkin' about. Jellal," he said when it was clear that she wasn't going to say anything else.
Erza looked awfully uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat, eyes narrowing. "Why are you asking?"
Gajeel weighed his options.
"I'm here on business," he finally told her. "But don't worry, Jellal doesn't have anything to do with it. Not directly, anyways."
She relaxed visibly, an eyebrow lifting in curiosity. "And yet, here you are."
"Yeah," he assented. "We, ya know, 'require his services as an informant'. He has nothing to fear, we ain't gonna charge him or anythin'. But he'd be a fat load of use to us."
"For someone on duty, you sure are lacking the proper vocabulary," Erza carefully criticised, and he felt like she was scolding him.
She'd have made a good cop. And a terrifying teacher.
"I'm kinda undercover for the moment, so it's fine either way," he retorted unfazedly, refusing to admit this was how he always talked, off and on the job, and he didn't damn well care. There were some things you just didn't say to Erza if you valued your continued existence.
Not that he had much to say in that regard. Erza was very familiar with his particular coarse way of speaking. She probably wasn't fooled by his bluff, but she had the grace to say nothing to the bold-faced lie.
"Hypothetically speaking," Erza intoned, her fingertips dragging across the worn surface of her desk. The papers wobbled on either sides of her but held strong on their shaky perch. "If I were seeing such a person...what would you require of them?"
Great. So they were going to play that game, were they?
Gajeel sagged a bit in his chair, dragging his hand through his hair and wondering what kind of extents he was willing to go to bring the Ring down. He really didn't have much on pride so he supposed it couldn't hurt him to play her game. If that was how he got this ticket, he'd follow her rules.
"Hypothetically speaking," Gajeel repeated, agreeing in his own words to what Erza was requesting. He paused, and said bluntly, "We would need a ticket to a certain underground fighting match. There's a rumor going around that a tournament will be popping up soon."
A flutter of paper fell from the top of the highest stack, floating down onto the floor, but Erza didn't even move.
Her fingers had curled under her palm, nails scratching a quiet path into the wood grain. Her single eye was hard, glaring at Gajeel in wordless anger.
"Why," her question was clipped, the single word shaking with the vibrations of her leashed fury.
There were no pretenses about her now, and she was rising from her chair, leaning over her desk with the promise to take a fistful of his hair and drag him to her eye level. She didn't, however, keeping her face a careful mask of calm.
"That's a terrible request to make - especially for someone like you." Her voice was low, quiet and dangerous.
Gajeel, as seasoned as he was, almost chilled down into his seat itself. But he knew this anger of hers wasn't directed at him. No, it was directed outward, at an enemy she couldn't fight. One not even Erza could destroy.
Gajeel didn't know if he should be annoyed or touched she was getting so upset in her own strange way. Especially not when it came to him.
"It's not for me," Gajeel decided for the cut and dry truth.
Nothing less would work on the likes of Erza. Despite being blind in one eye, she could see sharper than any person he knew. She would have been a runner for the Olympics long ago had she not suffered an injury which cost her part of her sight as a child. So now she worked at this gym, a place that had originally been opened for studying martial arts in a community setting.
Erza had a heart that could fill a building, and Gajeel knew just how to direct her anger.
"The Ring took a little girl," Gajeel crossed his arms, "and it's been almost two weeks since the file dropped onto my desk. I got a sketch from a witness that saw someone lurking around the girl, and it looks like someone I saw before in the Ring."
"How many times did you see this man?"
"Once."
"That's not a lot in the way of proof."
"Trust me. This guy's face is not one you'd forget," he insisted, leaning back in his chair. "But you're right. Which is why we need actual proof. We need to go in there and find out as much as we can, about the whereabouts of Wendy, and about that guy."
Erza took all this in, rubbing one hand over the other. Finally, slowly, she nodded.
"Wendy, huh…" she said, voice tinged with sadness that turned to anger on her face. She released a strained breath through her nose. "They've been stealing away kids for over a decade… I'll get you those tickets, Gajeel."
Her eyes could as well have been solid steel.
"Hypothetically, right?" he asked with a dark, victorious smirk.
"Hypothetically," she agreed.
A dangerous plan in set in motion...
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Next time! Chapter 4: Weigh In