This is set about a week before the Tartaros Arc starts. Enjoy!
The port town of Hargeon languidly buzzed in the mid-day summer heat. The high humidity and temperatures cast a lazy haze over the people. From flower merchants to ice mages, everyone sweated profusely and coveted any source of shade or a light breeze. For the past week, ships rocked gently in the harbor, unable to use the meager puffs of warm wind to escape the oppressive summer climate. Heat simmered off the cobblestone pavement in waves. Although the skies remained clear and bright, the thick, humid air brought the promise of a summer storm.
On the east end of Hargeon, there was an inconspicuous, 24-hour general store located on the corner where the shopping and shipping districts met. By the time Abi walked across town, sweat prickled in every nook and cranny of her body. The shop's tinted windows were wide open, and magic fans buzzed in the frames to create some circulation of air. Various magazines and newspapers displayed the latest news next to the open door. Traffic and people bustled around the general store, as the window's hand-written sign, fridge broke— no cold drinks, no ice cream, offered a deterrent to most sweaty passersby.
Behind the counter, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and thick beer belly thumbed through the most recent Sorcerer's Weekly. Despite the tireless work of the countertop's mini magic fan, sweat pooled down his "Grand Magic Games X788!" shirt, forming dark stains beneath his armpits, chest, and belly. He wiped at his forehead and nose repeatedly, but it did not stop the sweat droplets from staining the magazine's images of a naked Jenny Realight.
The clerk didn't look up as the slender, strategically muscled woman stepped through the doorway. Abi hauled a large, heavy burlap bag over her left shoulder, which caused sweat to stream down her white hooded top. She wore vibrant, loose teal pants tethered to her waist by leather belts. The summer sun bleached her pale blond hair almost white, marking a sharp contrast against her darker, coppery skin tone and bright blue eyes.
"Read tha' sign," he groused in a thick Hargeon accent, "Fridge broke, no cold stuff."
The thief grabbed a pack of gum off the shelf as she padded directly to the store's counter, moving directly to the counter. She tossed the gum next to the register and set a couple of coins on the counter. "Just this."
The man wiped at a bead of sweat rolling off his nose and kept his eyes trained on the magazine in hand. "Okay."
She narrowed her blue eyes and kept her hand hovering over the jewels. A silver fox ring gleamed on her right pointer finger. "…Are you going to count it?"
"In a minute." The middle-aged man flipped through another page.
Annoyance simmered in the thief's stomach. Doesn't he know the protocol? Abi impatiently drummed her nails against the old wooden countertop, but the store employee kept his eyes fixed on the magazine. The Praesidio felt her eyes grow hot and they glowed in the shady, humid store. The air shifted slightly as her anger seeped through her pores. Abi closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Control. Ever since she lost her necklace, it had been difficult to keep her powers under wraps. At the slightest disturbance, her dark power coiled around her like a shroud.
Abi exhaled through her nose and clenched a fist. She tried to keep her tone casual, "I think you might have something in the back for me."
The man stopped reading for a moment, swept his eyes over Abi, the store, and then resumed reading his magazine. He shrugged and remained fixated on the magazine in his hand. "Prolly' not. Everything we's got's out here."
An awkward silence hung heavy in the store's air.
The oppressive humidity ensured Abi was not exempt from the heat either. Sweat dripped down her spine and beaded insistently on her forehead. It made the thief more impatient than usual. She resisted the urge to wipe at the persistent perspiration. The blonde woman lowered her thick brows and leaned forward slightly. She glimpsed an erotic picture of the blond bombshell, Jenny Realight, plastered across the page.
Abi recoiled and made a noise of disgust in the back of her throat.
"Hey!" The man looked up indignantly and immediately folded his magazine in half and cradled the special issue of Sorcerers' Weekly to his chest. He glared at Abi and wagged a thick sausage finger at her, "If you wanna' read it, buy it, sweetheart!"
"I'm not here to buy some skin mag, you pervert!" The thief exclaimed as she slammed her hand against the countertop. She held up her hand, brandishing her silver ring. The silver fox head gleamed in the fluorescent light. The middle-aged man blinked for a second as he looked between the ring, Abi's face, and her chest. "Oh."
His eyes settled on her breasts, which were covered by a white crop top. Unfortunately, sweat caused the shirt to cling to her tanned skin a bit more than usual, and revealed the outline of her dark sports bra. Abi resisted both simultaneous urges to fold her arms against her chest and smack the balding man. Control, control, control. She adjusted her grip on the bag.
"I'm here on business," The thief ground out between clenched teeth, bringing her hand down to rest on her hip. It took all her willpower to keep her powers from seeping out with her emotions.
The middle-aged man wiped at his nose again and glanced up at Abi's face again. His dulled eyes sharpened slightly as he studied the thief's face. The blue-eyed woman stared back quietly. He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. A silence lapsed between them.
"Okay." He flipped open his magazine. His eyes once again locked onto Jenny's voluptuous erotic spreads. The man punched a key on the register and flipped back to the page he left off on. "You know where to find it."
Behind him, a small, wooden door materialized on the wall. Abi swiped her pack of gum off the counter and let out a huff of air. She glared coldly at the man and stepped back from the register. "Yeah, I do."
She walked to the door and opened the door. The old metal handle turned easily in her palm, and the door swung open. It revealed a dimly lit staircase leading down to a dark unknown. Abi glanced over her shoulder and cast a dirty look toward the pervy man again. Then, she descended the staircase. The door magically slammed shut behind her, and disappeared from the outside world.
The secret door and winding staircase led to another door inlaid against a brick wall. Two towering female bouncers stood by the entrance. Above them glittered a sign: Honor Among Thieves. Abi's lips curled upwards in a smile at the bar's tongue-in-cheek sign. She raised her hand and brandished her silver ring. One bouncer gave a brief nod, while the other opened the door for the blonde kleptomaniac.
The door gave way to an underground bar deep beneath the streets of the port city. The speakeasy was the main base of the Silver Fox Thieving Guild, which offered both refuge and jobs to its select members. It was high noon and the basement provided some reprieve from the heat, but even underground, the humid air was still damp and oppressive. Ceiling fans spun lazily and swayed with each streetcar that rattled overhead. There were no windows to provide an indication of the time of day. Magic lanterns cast warm lighting and it seemed as though it could be either midnight or mid-day.
Despite being underground, the walls of the tavern were lined with miscellaneous doors of all shapes, styles, colors, and sizes; each were locked with no telling what lay beyond them. The doors' respective keys floated in an enchanted glass case behind the bar, which glowed softly. The bar stood opposite of the tavern's entrance and pictures of the guild's most famous thieves and thefts lined the only solid wall. A board with various postings rested behind the bar, with elaborate prices and job descriptions. Above the board rested a bright red sign, impossible to miss: ABSOLUTELY NO STEALING FROM THIS ESTABLISHMENT.
No one sat at the bar at this hour, but Abi strode toward the drink depot. Her light pants swished softly as the patrons quieted to watch the unknown member walk through the tavern.
The patrons were an unorthodox lot, especially mid-day on a Monday: a prim old lady with a flower hat fanned herself with a diamond-encrusted fan in the corner, a group of grungy teenagers played cards in a nearby booth, while two businessmen spoke in hushed tones over a briefcase, and other shifty figures isolated themselves among the various tables. Despite the variance in age, status, and appearance, everyone carried the same calculating gaze that darted around, as though they were simultaneously scanning for anyone that may try to steal their wallet and looking for any pockets to pick.
The bartender was an old man with a watchful eye, known only as Tim. Tim had been with the tavern, and more importantly, the Silver Fox Guild, since its founding almost fifty years ago. As long as you respected the guild's strict rules, business carried on as usual. The guild took 15% of each job, but the respective health care, networking, and legal coverage was worth it. Tim distributed the jobs on the board as he saw fit and carried a plethora of information.
Although his sparse white hair had all but receded, dark sunspots covered his head and cheeks, and gravity pulled unevenly at his drooping skin, everyone treated Tim respectfully. Any thief known to steal the Crown Jewels of the Royal family deserved nothing less.
Tim paused drying a glass as Abi neared the bar.
Abi pulled the bag off her shoulder and plopped it on the bar. It landed with an audible thump. A few patrons craned their necks to peer at the blonde woman's mysterious bag. The old bartender raised an eyebrow with an otherwise impassive expression. "Now this is uncharacteristic, my dear." His aged warbled voice seemed to break the quiet spell over the tavern. Everyone returned to their own business but kept a keen eye on the bar.
Abi felt their gaze on her, but she shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. "Oh, you know me, Tim. I just like to pop in once in a while."
The bartender resumed drying his glass and eyed the sack appraisingly. "Apparently." He didn't believe her. "Job number seven this month?"
Number nine, actually, but you already knew that. She gave him a wink and said, "Something like that." Abi fanned herself lightly and sat down next to her bag. She sighed and swept her sweaty hair off her shoulders with a flick of her hand.
"Quite a lot of jobs in two weeks." Tim raised the glass up and twisted it in the dim tavern light, inspecting the impeccably clean glass for any fingerprint marks. "You didn't use the drop-off location this time."
Abi was one of the members who, on the few occasions she took jobs from the Thieving Guild, opted to call in for assignments and drop off the objects at a secure location. Appearing at the hub was very uncharacteristic, but she had business to attend to.
The blonde woman shrugged again, "Eh, I was bored. Gotta pay the rent somehow."
The old bartender quirked an eyebrow and momentarily ceased his inspection of the stout glass. He glanced at Abi out of the corner of his eye. "You must have quite the rent, my dear."
Abi smiled cryptically and said nothing. Tim turned around and placed the glass with its respective set on the back side of the bar. He tossed the drying rag over his hunched shoulder and wiped his hands on his bartending apron. The aged thief took a moment to turn around. Then, Tim hobbled over to Abi's place at the bar and rested his scarred, knobby hands on the stained veneer. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
The blonde woman nodded and pulled at the bag's drawstring. The pointed top of a delicate, gleaming red stone of an antlered animal statue poked out of the opening and generated a few whispers. She carefully reached her hand down inside. The blonde thief closed her hand around a slip of paper and withdrew it, quickly covering up her prize. She smoothed out the crinkled paper on the bar's wooden surface. Its description: WANTED: THE RUBY STAG STATUE, ON DISPLAY AT THE HARGEON MUSEUM OF ART. REWARD: NINE HUNDRED THOUSAND JEWELS. Abi slid the job request across the bar. He peered at the job request and nodded shortly.
"Very good. I'll make sure the money gets deposited in the usual account." The elder bartender wrapped his thin arms around the statue and hobbled backward. He teetered unevenly with the extra weight and grunted with discomfort. Abi watched Tim with slight concern. He unceremoniously dropped the ruby statue behind the bar and wheezed audibly. The old man gave a slightly apologetic smile as he smoothed over what remained of his silver hair. "In the meantime, what can I get you, my dear? On the house."
Yeah, no kidding it's on the house. The real theft is the fact that fees the Silver Fox Guild takes from each job, Abi thought acidly, but externally, she smiled warmly. "Anything that's cold and strong, please."
Tim nodded and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. He turned and hobbled over to the other side of the bar. While he prepared a cold drink, Abi stared down at her hands. She twisted the silver fox ring around her pointer finger. I hope I'm playing my cards right. The Praesidio brushed back a few loose strands of hair and bit her lip. Being here, working this many jobs was a gamble that would hopefully pay off. Normally, she never wanted the attention of the Silver Fox higher-ups, but they had something she desperately needed.
Assuming a different identity to slowly infiltrate and perform enough heists to gain the attention of their inner circle would take months of preparation and years of execution. Something in Abi's gut told her she didn't have a lot of time left—she needed results now. She needed to find that last lacrima. Risking her persona as a thief and contacts would have to work. Cheers to being flashy and bold.
"Country mule, with Jorgensen's." Tim told her as he set down a glass in front of Abi with a dark, sparkling amber liquid. Abi smiled appreciatively, smelling the strong alcohol from her seat. Country mule, also known as whiskey, ginger soda, and lime. Jorgensen's was top shelf. Strangely, her stomach rumbled uneasily, and Abi couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive at the smell of the amber liquor. Well, thank goodness I don't get drunk easily.
The thief thanked the bartender and picked up her glass. Abi took a small sip of the cocktail. The initial taste of ginger and lime was refreshing, but—Oh god. The whiskey hit the back of her throat, and a feeling of intense nausea assaulted her stomach. The Praesidio's body seized up. Her stomach twisted inside-out at the taste. She slammed the glass down, spilling whiskey and soda all over her hand and white shirt. A single, pervasive, panicked thought came over the blonde thief: I'm going to throw up. Abi covered her mouth as she convulsed and coughed, sputtering whiskey everywhere. The bar went silent. After a few more unceremonious gags, the Praesidio looked up with a mournful expression at Tim as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. His weathered brown eyes regarded her with a mixture of sympathy and distaste.
He gently pried the glass out of Abi's shaky grasp and slid it away from her. With the other hand, he wiped up her mess on the bar. The Praesidio flushed with embarrassment and shook her hand free of the alcohol. She grimaced at her white-stained shirt and the residing taste of whiskey. Before she could ask, Tim was already pressing a fresh glass of cool water into her hand.
"Isn't it interesting how our bodies remember the nights we don't?" He asked rhetorically as Abi took a long pull from the glass of water. She tried to wash the acidic-whiskey taste out of her mouth.
"Yeah," Abi said uneasily, as she set the glass of water down. She looked down at the brown stains on her white shirt. The Praesidio couldn't remember ever getting drunk on whiskey, it was like a blank wall. Not even a morning hangover. Abi had never had enough alcohol to get drunk unless she wanted to, let alone throw it up. Could she really have blacked out like that?
Maybe… the thief closed her eyes. She felt a distant memory of throwing up the last time she had whiskey. Was it…stumbling onto a doorstep? Her knee twitched. She did have an unexplained scab from a few months earlier. Except it wasn't a memory, more like a bodily impression. But how? And where? It felt like something right on the cusp— this is not important.
Right. Time to get to business. Abi smoothed her stained shirt and wiped at the corners of her mouth delicately with a finger. She tried to ignore the stares at her back and the whispers of the guild.
"Hopefully I don't have any bad memories with wine or tequila." She gave Tim an irreverent smile. The bartender wiped his hands and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a hint of a smile. Then he returned to his unreadable expression. An uncomfortable silence lapsed between them.
"Can I get you anything else? Or are you interested in another job?" Tim asked, only a hint of derision in his voice. Abi shook her head.
"No, no." Abi looked down at her water. She pursed her lips and steeled her nerves. Here goes nothing: "Actually…I'd like an audience with the master."
Tim did not blink an eye, but the guild went silent. Abi glanced over her shoulder to see the patrons staring at her in hostile silence. Classic.
"Bishop," Tim's voice was quiet, but it was the first time he used Abi's pseudonym. The blonde thief turned around. "Although you've been a member of this guild for four years, you seem to be quite out of touch with the guild's policies." Anger bubbled in Abi's stomach and she narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her feelings neutral. She breathed in quickly through her nose and out through her mouth. Calm, calm, calm. Tim continued lecturing: "Might I remind you that the Master chooses who he sees and when. And he only interacts with those he deems worthy. Even asking such a thing could result in banishmen-,"
"I just pulled off nine of the hardest jobs you have in less than a month!" Abi snapped, unable to keep her emotions under control. Her blue eyes glowed brightly and her power fanned outwards. The world blanched as her power threatened to strip the underground room of its magic. All the color paled as eerie magic slipped out with the Praesidio's anger. Tim visibly flinched and gripped the bar with his hands. The lights flickered overhead.
"What the fuck else do I have to do to be worthy!?" Abi snapped and slammed a hand down on the bar. The bar splintered around the heel of her palm. The barstool clattered behind her as she stood up. The noise was deafening in a suddenly silent room.
The Praesidio blinked. Fuck. Abi exhaled through her teeth. Immediately, the world returned to normal, as though nothing happened. However, the tavern was silent. The blonde thief pressed her trembling fingers against the base of her throat and wished there was a necklace there to help her. This isn't supposed to happen.
Tim wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and his lips trembled. "Wha-what are you?"
But Abi had already turned her heel and walked out.
So, Abi has been under some stress due to her missing Magic Suppression Charm... Laxus's chapter coming soon.