How about another chapter? (Here's hoping the notification situation is fixed.)
- K. Chandler
Natsu ducked as the bullets whizzed past, dodging behind a rack of clothing. Totomaru reached for his weapon, but Natsu shot him before he could draw.
Natsu turned his gun on Totomaru's lackeys, who had taken cover behind a cluster of barrels. He fired, emptying one magazine and starting on another. He kept the pressure on, hitting one of the copper drums.
Murky liquid oozed out of the puncture and onto the floor. The stench of fermenting fruit filled the room. Natsu wrinkled his nose.
Natsu ducked behind a rack of jackets, aiming for the oak barrels next. The sharp stink of alcohol filled his nostrils as it glugged its way out of the barrels. The floor was awash with spilled liquor.
Natsu shot two Phantomlord goons hiding behind the equipment, their bodies falling into the liquid with a splash.
It was a shame about the distillation equipment. It was so punched full of holes that the Swiss couldn't have done it better. It would sure have been swell trying their hand at crafting their own recipes, but Natsu knew Don Makarov would never support a Fairy Tail homebrew operation.
The family had plenty of sources for quality liquor, whiskeys and gins trafficked from across the border and champagnes and other wines shipped from overseas. Why play at brewmaster when they had access to the real McCoy?
"Upsidaisy!" Natsu upturned barrels as he splashed his way to one of the half-packed crates of liquor. Dodging bullets, he grabbed a crate and tucked it under his arm. He sprinted out of the room, his ears ringing with gunfire.
"Erza!" Natsu barreled into the office. "You'll never guess what I found."
Erza was seated behind the desk, her feet up like she owned the place. The former occupant lay in a heap on the floor, his face swollen and bruised. Natsu could barely recognize Capo Sol.
"You want to tell me what the big emergency is?" Erza asked.
"Phantomlord wasn't rumrunning. They were—"
"Distilling," Erza held up a file of papers. "It's all here. Their suppliers, business dealings, even a record of which who ran this shop and when."
"I'm surprised they kept records," Natsu said.
"Separate books from the store business."
"Of course. Seems we dealt Phantomlord quite a blow. I took out Totomaru—"
"Did you? Nice work."
"—and you've got Sol here."
"Don't forget, they lost Black Steel Gajeel a while ago," Erza said. "They can't have that many Capos left."
"Anything other than papers? What's this over here?" Natsu riffled through filing cabinet drawers, throwing papers about.
"Stop playing around," Erza said.
"You don't get to tell me what to do," Natsu said, upturning an entire drawer over the desk. "You're not my Capo anymore. And last I checked, you're not my mother or my gal either."
Erza scoffed. "Oh, so that's what it takes to get you to listen?"
"Interested? The position's vacant, you know."
"I'm not old enough to be your mother."
"I wasn't talking about you being my mother. Now, see, if you were my dame—"
"If I was your dame, I'd take up drinking."
Natsu grinned, grabbing a bottle of Phantomlord moonshine from the crate. "Shall we toast to that, then? Make it official?"
"Not with that bathwater, we won't."
Natsu shrugged, pouring the alcohol over the desk and soaking the documents.
"Hey! Watch it!" Erza scooted out of the splash zone. "What are you doing?"
Natsu pulled out his lighter with a wicked grin, running his thumb over the date engraved on the side.
The lighter had been a gift from Don Makarov, commemorating the date of Natsu's promotion to Capo. Natsu tried to use it as often as he could.
"Not this again…" Erza groaned.
Natsu lit the office on fire.
"Come on, come on!" Natsu fanned the flames as he edged Erza out of the room. He followed, grabbing the remaining bottles of liquor and a wad of papers.
"You never change," Erza said.
"You like it that way," Natsu said cheerfully.
Smoke filled the hall.
Natsu led the way to the opposite end of the building, stopping near distillery room. He opened another bottle of liquor and stuffed the neck full of documents.
"What are you doing?" Erza asked. "We don't have time for this."
Natsu caught the edges of the documents on fire and hurled the bottle toward the flooded distillery workroom.
He didn't wait to watch it catch flame.
Natsu grabbed Erza's hand, dragging her toward the front of the store. Behind them, the improvised explosive burst into flames with a roar.
"Come on, fellas! Time to go!" Natsu hollered at Gray and Cana.
"What? What's going on?" Gray asked.
"Go, go, go!" Natsu shouted, flapping his arms.
"What a waste," Cana complained as Natsu continued to smash the bottles of moonshine.
Natsu splashed alcohol over everything and leaving puddles of liquid amber all over the floor.
"Start the car!" Erza barked, tossing Gray the keys.
"On it," Gray headed for the driver seat and Cana went to crank the engine.
Within minutes, flames enveloped Sol's, the spilled alcohol aiding the spread of the fire. The windows of the store filled with orange as the flames rose higher. Plumes of dark smoke rose, disappearing into the night sky.
Natsu whooped loudly, grinning even as Erza cuffed him in the back of the head.
As the others filed out of the building, Natsu paused, retrieving the lump of charcoal he kept in his pocket. He crouched in front of the broken store display window. This spot was conspicuous, but not overly so, and the brick would stay relatively undamaged.
With bold strokes, Natsu sketched out the Salamander insignia that he had designed himself. He never left a scene without making sure to leave his mark behind.
"What are you doing now?" Erza said.
"Letting Phantomlord know where to send the bill," Natsu said, finishing with a flourish.
"We don't have time for that!"
"Sure, we do." Natsu nodded towards the motorcar.
In the driver's seat, Gray bowed his head over the wheel, his eyes shut, fingers tangled in the chain of his cross necklace.
Cana groaned, drumming her fingers on the dash. "Are you doing that thing again?"
Gray shushed her, not moving a muscle.
Each of them had their rituals. For Cana, it was drinking before a job. For Natsu, it was tagging the building with his Salamander. For Gray, it was 'that thing,' as Cana called it.
Natsu had asked him about it once, but Gray just shrugged and said that he was praying, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He had been so matter-of-fact that Natsu wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Amen." Finishing his prayer, Gray sprang back to life. He revved the engine impatiently. "Come on, fellas! Hurry it up!"
"Finally! That's more like it," Cana said. "What are we waiting for? Let's blow this joint!"
"Already did," Natsu forced out with false cheer. He let go of Erza and started edging away from her… and that horrible fordor jalopy. He knew what was coming and he wanted no part of it.
Anxiously, he scanned the scene, looking for any excuse not to get back into the car. Suddenly Gray's ritual didn't seem so far-fetched. Natsu was struck by the sudden urge to pray as well… for deliverance from this death trap known as an automobile.
Erza grabbed Natsu, yanking him up by the collar before he could get away.
"Well, hol-hold on a sec!" Natsu's voice pitched up into a squeak. "Whoa, no. Hey!" He flailed against Erza's inhuman strength.
The bearcat tossed Natsu into the back of the Fordor before sliding in next to him.
"Oh, please, no! Anything but this!" Natsu tried to climb out the opposite side, but the car jerked into motion with a stomach-churning jolt as Gray shifted into gear. "Gak!"
Cana gave a giddy whoop, throwing her hands up like she actually enjoyed this, but all Natsu could do was groan.
"Next stop, Fairy Tail!" Gray said.
On the other side of the city, one of Fairy Tail's Capos crossed his arms over his chest.
"Warren! War-ren!" he thundered. "Your useless contraption isn't working anymore!"
"It was working fine when I left, sir," Warren said with a curious frown, his toolbox in tow.
"Well, it's not now. D'ya think I'd call you all the way out here if it was?"
"Now, now, Mr. Laxus," Warren said, as if trying to pacify him. "We'll get this working in a jiffy. Just you watch."
"You'd better."
Warren's eyes lit up. "I think I spotted the problem…" He reached out, flicking on the switch. The radio set crackled to life. "Well, look at that. It's working—"
"Do you think I'm an idiot or something?" Laxus snarled.
"N-no, sir," Warren said quickly, his head swiveling back and forth.
"What does this sound like to you?" Laxus shoved the earphones at Warren's chest.
Puzzled, Warren slipped on the earpieces. "Nothing," he reported. "It's just static."
"Exactly…"
"Oh. Is that all you needed? Right. I can tune it for you. You shoulda just said so." Warren took a seat in front of the bulky radio set.
Laxus groaned. He was surrounded by idiots…
While others were using this new technology to entertain themselves with sports and music, Laxus had a grander vision.
Or, at least, he would if he didn't strangle Warren first.
Laxus had specially commissioned Warren to custom build little beauty for him. It had cost him a pretty penny, but the technology was worth its weight in gold. And once Warren finished his latest project, it would completely revolutionize the family's business.
If the incompetent mug ever figured out how to get it working again.
"What's taking so long?" Laxus demanded.
"Nearly there, Mr. Laxus. Nearly there." Warren's nimble fingers glided over the dials on the bulky station as he pressed the earphone into his ear. "Got it."
Laxus yanked the earphone from the technician's hands, pushing him aside with a snarl. He held his breath, trying to make out the garbled voices on the police broadcast.
"We've got a 10-59B in Lower Villavista. Sol's Clothing Store, on 4th Street."
10-59? Laxus jotted the number down. He couldn't remember if that meant a fire or a robbery. Coppers had gotten clever and started coding their conversations. That meant that they knew others were listening in. Laxus needed to assume that he wasn't the only one. Maybe the other families were getting smarter too.
"Anything interesting?" Warren asked.
"Put a sock in it, kid," Laxus grunted.
"Gas leak?"
"Negative. Looks like the Salamander struck again."
"Well, well, well." Laxus tapped his pen on the pad. "Salamander, eh?"
The police chatter didn't surprise Laxus at all. He had no doubt that the coppers would find the joint tagged with Natsu's 'calling card' vandalism if it wasn't just a pile of ash. Where that idiot was involved, fiery destruction was sure to follow.
Certainly, the Don would want to hear about this…
Laxus pulled up the main drive and parked in the circle in front of the mansion. He was close enough to walk, but what was the point in having a car if he was going to do that?
Laxus wasn't sure if he should be pleased or annoyed that his grandfather had forced him to move out of the main house and into one of the accessory buildings on the property. Decades ago, that sort of thing would be reserved for the servants. But it was nice to get out from under the old geezer's thumb.
Laxus let himself in a side door, the one that never locked quite right, and went up to his grandfather's office. He pressed his ear to the door.
It sounded like the old man was on the telephone.
"The family business is everything to me, Mister Gunn. I need to make sure it's taken care of. Of course. Yes, I'm quite sure," Makarov said.
Mr. Gunn. The old geezer's lawyer. Laxus had never met the fella, only knew him by reputation. He expected it was probably the same for all the other family execs. Except maybe Don Makarov's Consigliere, Mirajane. She was the Don's confidante. If anyone knew, it would be her.
Laxus wasn't sure what the big secret was, but he didn't like not being in the know.
"We'll have to wait and see. Will you have that drafted up for me? Very good, I'll review it. All right. Thank you again, old friend. Good evening," Makarov said.
Drafted? Review? What sort of papers could Makarov have his lawyer drawing up? His will? Or maybe the papers to turn over the family business to a worthy successor?
Laxus waited until he heard the Don hang up before opening the door.
The Don scowled. "Don't you know to knock? Show some respect, boy," he barked.
Laxus bit back a noise of disdain. He needed to be on his best behavior if he wanted Makarov to slip up and show his hand.
"Who was that you were talking to? It sounded serious," Laxus said, with faux politeness.
"It's nothing for you to worry about."
"Just a formality, then," Laxus said.
If Makarov was planning for a successor, Laxus was the obvious choice. None of the other Capos were as good as he was. His grandfather would be blind if he couldn't see that.
Makarov sighed, turning his attention to the chessboard that always seemed to be on his desk. The man was obsessed with the game. One of his business associates had even gifted him with a handsome wooden cigar box that featured a chessboard lid and drawers to store the hand-carved pieces. Of course, Makarov would be too busy playing with the thing to appreciate the fine cigars that must have been inside.
"Did you want something?" Makarov asked.
"I just thought you'd be interested in what Natsu's been up to. The firebug is burning up Fourth Avenue."
Makarov's expression was impassive. "Is that so? And how would you know that?"
"I took the liberty of checking. Just heard the report on the radio," Laxus said.
"Like the one that Mirajane keeps cooing over?" Makarov snorted dismissively. "It only plays those ridiculous crooners by that Trimens band."
"No, like the ones that the coppers have started using. We've been over this," Laxus said with long-suffering patience. "Adopting radio can only help us."
He had made this argument before, but Makarov was too much of a traditionalist. The old fool failed to see the opportunities that these newer technologies presented.
It was more secure than telephone, since there was fewer people using it and you didn't have to rely on some monkey-ears operator that would listen in on your business.
And once he got transmission figured out, it would be even better. The smuggling rings near the coast were using it to keep one step ahead of the coastguard. They'd be idiots to not do the same.
"There's nothing wrong with the way things are now," Makarov said. "Not all change is good. Don't be so excited by all the new-fangled technology that you forget about what's important."
"If it wasn't for this 'new-fangled technology,' how would I know what sort of trouble Natsu and his idiot friends are up to?"
"That's none of your concern," Makarov said. "I think you should spend less time worrying about Mr. Dragneel and more time worrying about yourself."
Laxus gritted his teeth. Was the old geezer really going to say nothing about Natsu? That chump could get away with murder…
"Was there anything else you wanted?" Makarov asked. "If not, I'm heading in now."
"That was all."
What would it take for Makarov to see how right Laxus was?
There seems to be tension between the old Don and his grandson...
Can anyone guess why Erza's car is a fordor? In this time period, a fordor is slang for a car with four doors. A two door car (like a coupe) was sometimes called a tudor. Purists will say that's Ford brand's terminology, but I think other manufacturers were using it as well.
As for Gray being a Praying Mafioso in this story, that was inspired by the gangster anime 91 Days. I'm a dubbie, and Gray's English VA plays a Praying Mafioso. (What are the odds?) It occurred to me that Gray's probably-a-sword necklace could look like a cross if you squint. Given the lack of swords in the 1920s/30s, a cross makes a lot more sense and added some flair to the universe.
Next time, in The Godfather's Heir, we get our first look at Fairy Tail: Stepping through the speakeasy door always made Natsu feel like he had been transported back to once upon a time and a long time ago, back when drinking wasn't illegal.
Stop back for the next installment, or just follow me, Karine of R011ingThunder.