Modern AU, Changed ages, foul language.
His head thumped, and he moaned; the pain was unbearable. He slowly lifted his head off the ground and everything around him spun out of control. Maybe he had way too much to drink last night. He held onto his head, righting his vision of his surroundings. Everything cleared; and his brows furrowed at the sight. He was sitting in the middle of a dump. Trash of all sorts was scattered across the ground; even a few metal pieces shined against the sun. The dirt marked his side, where he was laying, and bottom.
"Where the fuck am I?" he cursed out loud; quickly jumping to his feet. He scanned the surroundings, but nothing was familiar. All of the nearby buildings were crumpling, and/or busted into. Sure Downtown wasn't the best places to live, but it was nowhere as bad as wherever the fuck he was. And, other than himself, there wasn't another living person around; where in Downtown, the streets were always crowded and busied.
His studded black boots shifted the dirt; making a path across the dusty dump. He recounted the events that lead to this, but he faintly remembers any of it. The last thing he remembers was sporting a good twelve shots before everything went hazily and finally black. There was some that wasn't as faint as the others; like punching one of the local drunks for stealing his shot; and when one of his underlings dared to challenge at a drinking contest. He smirked while thinking where each of those are right now; the hospital.
A dibble of sweat made its way down his pierced face. The sun heated his black clothing; making his headache worst than it was already was. "Ah...! I'm never going to drink again...!" he moaned. Course, no matter how many times he promised that, he always went back to drinking. It was the only thing enjoyable then hearing your idiot underlings mock on how powerful they were. Just annoying.
They wouldn't be mocking any more once he gotten a hold of them. He just needed to get out of this wasteland and back to his turf in Downtown. Once again, the question returned to his mind; where was he. The lost man was a gangster called Gajeel.
"I-I do-don't know-!" shuttered a feminine voice. Gajeel continued walking; it didn't concern him.
Something slammed against a piece of metal and it clinked. "You know why people call this place a dump?" The voice was merciless and echoed through the scrap metal.
The female gulped and her eyes became wide."B-Because...it's where our tr-" The female was cut off by laughter.
"A place exactly for trash like yourself! And no one would ever find you!"
"Wh-What?!" Her back leaned against what was left of a building. Her hair stood up in terror for what was going to happen next. She looked around her surrounding, and the only thing in reach was empty bottle. She grabbed it and crashed the bottom against the crumpled wall. 'This always works in the movies...' she thought; hoping this fertile attempt would work.
The owner of the voice from earlier roared with laughter. "Don't you get it? You are a damsel without a prince! Nothing going to help you, wretch!"
"What did I ever do to you?!" she yelled. Her figure shivered as he walked closer.
"What didn't you do?" he asked her. "This place is gone for! Yet, you want stay here in this dying town! You are no different from this dump!"
Gajeel stopped in his tracks. That sentence peaked his attention, and now he was listening. The female with blue hair hiccupped, "This is our home!" She took a tiny step forward; looking at her ex-friend in the eyes. They were only friends for a couple months, but the blond didn't see anything worth in the town to stay.
"Was," he corrected. He walked closer to her. A knife glinted from the sun's rays. The bottle she was holding rose up, pointing right at his chest. Her eyes shut; holding the position. He gently pushed her arms downward, and the bottle crashed on the ground. The knife was positioned underneath her neck.
She gulped, and looked at the hand that held the knife. Any moment now she could be dead meat.
"If you are going to kill someone, then kill them," Gajeel remarked. He was now standing behind the blond man.
"Huh?" the man holding the knife turned around. His nose was itches away from the pierced man's chest.
"Stop playing around; kill her if you are not a pussy." If the blond couldn't even do that much, he didn't even deserve to live.
"Who the fuck are you?!" exclaimed the blond.
"What? You haven't heard of me? I have beaten up more worthless men than you," Gajeel glared. The aura around him was cold and deadly.
"This is none of your fucking business!"
"So troublesome... This is my business," the man countered. In Downtown, he made a profit of killing fools like the one standing in front of him. Even his underlings could do a job as simple as that; this man wasn't even worth his time.
The blond turned around and pointed the knife at chest covered in black. "Leave. This doesn't concern you, asshole."
"Don't tell me what to do." He grabbed the knife in the others' hand; and squeezed. The edge of the knife went into his hand, but he didn't show any pain, only a smirk. Blood leaked down his hand and fell to the ground; painting it red.
The wind blew past them; the pierced man's hair flowed with the wind. At this moment, he didn't feel any pain; just blood lust. His eyes turned red and a smile crawled up his face. It's been awhile since he could have fun. There were too many police in the big city to unleash chaos; but fighting in the dump would be his first time.
The other male shrunk back, and all of his cockiness left. He let go of the bloody knife; blood was left on his hand. He knew he would get blood on his hands; but not like this. "Wha...? Why?"
Gajeel punched the air next to the man, who gulped; he turned his head and looked at how close it could have hit him. The black-hair swiped his hand down, right on the blonde's chin. He was knocked backwards; landing in the same place where the blue haired girl was moments ago; she ran to the other side when the blond was focus on Gajeel.
He held onto his jaw as if it would fall off any moment. Gajeel cracked his knuckles and flashed the blond an evil grin.
The girl shuttered and closed her eyes. Her legs wouldn't move; and she was stuck watching the two fight; the fight was more like a one side beat down. The man dressed in black and stubs was punching the blond. His hits were all accurate, making contact with the other. The blond coughed; his body began to turn blue, purple, and red from all of the attacks on his body. Gajeel wouldn't even let the other make a move. He kept punching right, left; and the man couldn't even block the incoming attacks.
Blood spattered; mixing into the dirt. The blond panted, weakly tried to fight back. Gajeel kept smiling as he overcame the blond. His attacks were fierce and bloody. When he was in Downtown, he always fought for himself, and never for a girl or even one of his underlings. He only fought for himself; and only for himself. Yet, he was there saving a girl, who he didn't even know.
He punched the man in the ribs; he coughed up blood; the girl squealed.
Finally, the blond collapse on the ground; the girl gulped. She was now left to face the pierced man. Her eyes darted from left to right, but she knew she wouldn't get away in time; the man was too fast that even if she did run, he would catch up.
"Hey you," Gajeel spoke. He was facing the other way; looking at the body on the ground.
Her ears peaked up, and she smooths herself against the wall. She was going to die in this dump.
"Where the fuck am I?" he asked.
'What...?' she mentally thought. Her mouth was ajar, staring at the other. Once she got somewhat over the shock, her nimble voice answered, "South of Fiore."
"Know how to get to Oa-" Before he could finish, he collapsed on the ground. The blue-haired girl gasped and ran to his side. Even if he could be a danger, he still saved her life; she owed him.
I'm revising this Oneshot and making it into a multi-chapter. There's going to be more fluff than the first draft, in which it was titled Fable of Faries, but now removed. Please follow, favorite, and/or review.