It's been too long, but I'm back again.
-x-
Medusa's Story
My bare feet padded a line of cobblestones as I followed my lead. He was a tall man, with the look of a grizzled veteran from the legendary war against sobriety and past mistakes. Alcohol wafted off of him with each pass of the wind. Hanging street signs lit with flickering Lacrima swayed gently with the darkening of the night, clouds reaching out to eat the moon.
It still disturbed me to find a black sky absent of its grin. Though a welcome change, I always found myself wondering why it had to resemble a glowing fish eye. Why couldn't it be more like the stories told to "normal" children? Something about the moon being made of cheese…? Cheddar, perhaps?
He rocked on his feet, losing his grip on gravity in the briefest instant before catching himself on a nearby post and vomiting across a welcome mat, one of the few homes in the business district of the city. What was its name? I never cared to learn it.
I caught a glint of his eye while he was turning. A vector arrow wrapped around his neck while another positioned its foremost point above his femoral artery, well outside his range of vision. It was a necessary precaution to be able to terminate men like him with as much efficiency as could be managed. More than once, simply grasping their necks or arms were not enough.
When the man attempted to move, red energy forming at his palms, I robbed him of his oxygen. There was no need for the theatrical tug of my wrist. My arrows responded to my thoughts as fast as blinking, and I didn't have the time to bother with entertaining a corpse.
"Tell me what I want to know, and I will let you live."
He was incoherent, blabbering on and on about the power of Death's Head Caucus, how they had a mission to assassinate anyone who came too close to their target, and he would not fail – the last twelve men and women gave the exact same information, and it was valuable
exactly once. My patience wore thin.
From a certain perspective, it was admirable. These people were incompetent enough to be led by the nose, but clearly had
some understanding of keeping more vital information secret. Stalling tactics, telling me the bare minimum – even now, I could tell he was trying to signal for help that wouldn't come. He was exactly the sort of person that I would…
…No. Not again. Not like last time.
In my reminiscing of past mistakes, I almost stopped paying attention to the man. "Yes, yes, yes," I breathed, "That's all fine and good. But it still leaves me with a question…" I loosened the arrow's grasp on his neck and gambled on this drunkard's ability to test me. "Where is Ivan Dreyar?"
The fun thing about this gamble was, whether he told me or not, this man would die.
He didn't tell me.
So when he tried to turn around and break free of my vector arrow, I pierced his thigh and perforated his abdomen until he more closely resembled the
before image from those old acne commercials. Did they still have those on TV? Actually, wait, did Ars
have a TV? If he did, would he get reception?
The man collapsed bleeding to death and I broke his neck before impaling his temple just to make sure – it would seem the most important question was not answered, and a slew of newer, less relevant questions have taken its place. Again. I sighed, turned, and took a seat on the makeshift bench that had made itself available to me.
Another lead lost. What a shame.
On the bright side, this former person
was a recognizable criminal who apparently
had a high rank in its Dark Guild, so that was a good thing. Tentatively speaking, it might have been a great thing given the relative size of the guild in question – at this rate, I was probably going to end up killing all of Ivan's guards before I ever found the man, and the world would be a better, safer place for it.
Except Ivan would still be alive, and that was unacceptable.
What did Ars remember about Ivan? Nothing positive. He was a terrible father who kidnapped his own son, experimented on him, determined that the experiments were a failure, left him behind, started a Dark Guild, achieved legitimacy for that guild, played a long game, and lost
everything in less than a day because he wasn't actually that bright.
From that man's perspective, we'd be birds of a feather if he knew the bare minimum of my past. Yet from my perspective, I saw an uppity snack that would be swallowed whole and forgotten… if I could just
find him. What tree did he hide in? What dark, decrepit basement did he dwell inside of?
Putting my feet in his shoes should have been easier. So was it a good thing that I found it difficult? Had enough time passed from who I was before that I could no longer remember the screaming from that soundproof chamber that I designed, with an occupant I created? Here I was, calling him the fool.
It wasn't like I was any
better– Something snapped as my hand clenched on the wrist of the body beneath me. I examined the corpse for a moment and frowned. I hadn't forgotten it was there, but I suppose I was getting too caught up in the moment, and my break from the hunt was going on a little too long.
With that thought in mind, I stood and let my arrows wrap around the corpse and spin. They ground the body to paste and dust, forcibly drying it until little remained, and with a clap of my hands I let violet and gold sparks fall as I converted the new "substance" to nitrogen-rich fuel.
For all the alchemists who touted their art to be a science, there was a decisively
conceptual nature to it that I was not about to ignore. Perhaps it was endemic to a society that frowned upon paganism, yet used it to popularize terms and codes in their studies? Just another thing to be examined at a later time, I supposed.
Taking a note of that, I left behind the empty alleyway and continued my search for more informants. Perhaps one of them would tell me something
useful before I eradicated them.
-x-
I hesitate to call what I was doing a crusade. When my mission – or quest, I suppose – began, I was excited to stretch my legs and run around the countryside for a little while. At the same time, I was a bit peeved. My peaceful days taking care of Ars, entertaining myself with the many experiments left behind in the House of the Rising Sun, and interacting with this guild of wizards and mages had come to an abrupt end.
Did I
know the boy who was kidnapped? Not at all. He was usually following in the footsteps of his father, and Ivan was spending more and more time hiding away from his fellow guild mates. I could understand why. What he was planning to do amounted to treason – possibly for his country, if the laws on magic here were
reasonable but much more likely it was a betrayal of what his guild stood for.
Peace and pacifism except when rightfully provoked, becoming stronger to protect the weak, fighting crime, promoting charity, performing general odd jobs and chores of ranging severity… Fairy Tail's edicts either actively endorsed what all the guilds in this country were supposed to do, or they embraced the idea of resembling a
superhero team more than a group of magic users. It was different and I appreciated that.
Above all else, and what separated Fairy Tail from other guilds was their belief in freedom. So Ivan
literally trapping his child in a pseudoscience dungeon to magic several quarts of petrified dragon blood into his body was, to put it lightly, frowned upon. Reasonably so, I'd imagine.
I…
loathe the person I once was. The things I said and convinced myself to believe, the hypotheses and theories I formed based on working backwards were enough to warp me more and more. A part of me wants to blame that as influence resultant from Madness. But Witches are merely people with their own sets of motivations, thoughts, dreams, and desires.
Madness in all its power cannot wholly account for the things I did.
"I will find them." I told Makarov, "If I do not return by the time Ars is awake, assume the worst."
More than once, Ars had underestimated the abilities of his opponents. At the time, I was convinced that Ivan was a far greater threat. I was utterly and truly convinced that I would be facing an uphill battle against a force I was not prepared to fight.
A single week had passed, and I had been proven half correct. While most of the people keeping Ivan's location a secret were certainly
powerful, they were dim. Ivan had taken only the most incompetent steps when it came to covering his tracks. Hiring assassins to protect his whereabouts and person spoke of desperation and deep pockets, likely saved from years of more legitimate missions.
How much did Ivan know about the seedy underbelly of the magical world before he decided to jump headfirst into it? If I had to guess, not much at all.
By now, I found myself in a temporary residence – the attic of a dormitory belonging to a local academy of guards. In the event I was not thorough enough with my victims, I knew the local law enforcement would begin searching for me, so where better to hide except right under the noses of their least experienced men and women?
I wouldn't test my luck against the people who
actually passed through these hallowed halls, received their badge, armor, and sword, then went out to fight the good fight. For one, I didn't
need to. And for another, I confess, I didn't want to disappoint a man who frightened me.
What would Makarov say for the people I had killed? He would ask if I had to do it, and I would have to stamp down on the urge to slip out of the question. Telling him that it had to be done
from a certain point of view seemed like an excellent way to draw his ire. The man was flexible to an extent, but I knew what I was, and there's no way he didn't.
A murderer being housed in his guild was one thing. A serial killer with few qualms when it came to killing again was something else. And consider it a hunch that I believed he'd rather I knocked these people out and left them for the authorities, just for the chance they could be reformed and learn the errors of their ways.
Well, except for that one man I caught with a few too many small children. Makarov would look the other way, then.
There was a small window peering out over the little city, giving me a perfect view of the people five stories below. From here, I could see where everyone was and what they all were doing. Shops were opening, people were speaking to each other in the early hours of the day, the sunrise had just begun, and I was
still no closer to finding Ivan as when I started.
Vexing, that.
But never let it be said that I was without a plan.
If Ivan wouldn't leave the security of his home, I simply needed to take the security
from his home. It could either be done in small portions, dealing little blows here and there to whatever guild he hired to protect himself, or I could take it a step further.
My vector arrows trailed their way around the city and I knelt in place, shutting my eyes to let them search. Chanting under my breath, maintaining my concentration, it was all child's play for me. "Nake, nake, sna-coburah, cobu-cobu…" I was looking for someone with a symbol on their body of a smiling head's silhouette.
Hiding my countless serpents inside every bathroom and outhouse was an easy enough guarantee of that. The moment a single member of that Dark Guild tried to bathe themselves, the second one of them was left alone in their most intimate moment, I would either see the symbol on their bodies, or I would detect it. And though my arrows would not be strong enough to
harm them, though I would be left exhausted for a day, I would know where they all were.
My attention would be too divided to remember all their faces. At most, I would be able to walk away with one or two. But for this to work, I only needed one.
Then, Ivan's time would come.
-x-
When I slept that night, I dreamt of Crona. I named her after Chronos, the Greek god of time. I believed she would be an eternal reminder to every soul of my brilliance, and of my achievements. She would remind them of how
little time they had left for themselves, how precious every second was.
On retrospect, she had come to remind me of the time I wasted being a monster instead of a person.
…For all my talents, I don't think I should have been a mother.
-x-
One Foot on the Platform
OR: One Foot on the Train
End-313
