Disguised as Salazar "Sal" Worthington:

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Tomoe would soon be attacking Fairy Tail, and this was no mystery. Ever since entering town he'd gotten stares of fear as if they could piss themselves any second. For what reason? Why did they fear him so? Was there any reason in particular they looked at him like he was the devil? There had to be a reason more than nothing, right?

Oh. Right.

Sure, right, he was the most wanted man in town with a bounty on his head to make anyone rich. What of it? Was that a problem to people? Maybe they heard those overblown stories of child eating and skinning people alive, or of pissing all over a burning man's dying body while he screams a bloodcurdling scream. All true, of course, those just weren't his deeds. Yet still, they'd attribute those things to him all the same. He was a fallen guild master that betrayed his own guild, in the eyes of the public. Killed them like cattle. What kind of person would do such a thing? It was utterly, wholly, completely despicable! Why, Tomoe's heart was just throbbing with pain at the idea of a villain. Though... perhaps he would also understand that the villain had reasonable motives to do so, within their own mind, and that they were just a side character in their own story.

Right, that villain was him...

As he wandered through town, he eventually shifted into a disguise when nobody was looking – or when he thought nobody was looking, anyway. If he did find out anybody saw him change forms at the dead end of an unoccupied alley, he'd need to find them and bury them himself. They couldn't be allowed to reveal any secrets about him, or get away alive without consequences. That was what he decided upon taking up the responsibilities and duties of a cultist.

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WC: 310/2,500

After changing into the appearance of a rather robust, rotund and rambunctious fellow by the name of Salazar Worthington – 'Sal' for short – the man left the alley with renewed vigor. At least like this, despite still having stares of fear and maybe even disgust now, there was a very clear distinction between him and Tomoe Tanaka. Nothing about the two were the same other than height, as the horizontal mass was much greater. Sal let out a loud burp as if he'd just eaten five chili cheese dogs, and turned to look around at those around him who couldn't believe the draconic roar from deep within his gut he had just let out, playing at embarrassment.

“Oh, my word, you must excuse me! I recently ate a diner out of business. Exhausted their entire supply. Really, you should get some better chefs in this town. Downright disappointing, I do say. If you'll excuse me, I'll probably need to use the little boy's room before long~!”, Sal ended whimsically, skipping off down the street while passing gas towards passersby.

Sal would head onward towards a rather dingy, dark, crumbling shop at the edge of town. The sun was starting to set, so it was about time. His friend, Mr. Tanaka, would soon attack Fairy Tail. In order to do his best to combat any defenders of the guild, them definitely already being well aware of his presence in this town, they would need to find themselves a shop and get their share of items from it. They'd play a last minute gamble in preparation for the raid on Fairy Tail by stocking up on items from the shop that now stood before Sal. This shop wasn't very well known, but through criminal connections in Tomoe's time as one of the most hated men anyone could ever know, they tracked down a magic shop that sold illegal goods. Some of those goods could come in handy, indeed. Sal took a step forward, and cracked open the door to peer inside, and see if the shopkeep was around...

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WC: 657/2,500

“Alright, that's enough.”, Sal said aloud and then kicked down the door of the shop, breaking it into splinters with a single kick and sending it flying off its hinges.

As the door fell uselessly to the ground in a crumpled heap, he heard a shriek from inside. Looking around, possessing darkvision, Sal quickly saw an elderly man cowering in a corner with his hands raised above his head in defense. He huddled into a dirty, dusty, piss-smelling corner of the room, probably pissing himself as well as he curled into a ball in fear of Sal, the fat gangster with a vengeance.

“Oh dear, oh me, oh my, did I do that? Why, I'm so sorry, let me fix that, I'll have you up on your feet in a jiffy!”, Sal spoke with fake shock and awe, his whimsical nature masking a sinister smile underneath his exterior features.

Picking up the broken door, Sal would throw it towards the corner that the shopkeep found himself in, it turning into itty bitty pieces and raining down on him, no doubt giving the man more than his fair share of splinters to dig underneath his flesh in the process. An annoying, sometimes nasty process to dig out, splinters were; it was a shame that he had chosen to cower rather than stand and face Salazar Worthington like a real man would. The rotund sphere of a man moved his way towards the elderly man, who began to shakily scramble to his feet and run over to go behind the counter.

He hastily dug through a drawer under the counter, and grabbed hold of something dark. It definitely wasn't a dildo or any other kind of weird sex object, so Sal wasn't interested. As the shopkeep pulled out a rifle, Sal slammed his fist down on the old man's hands, smashing him into the counter and breaking the rifle into useless gadgets and gizmos littered around the floor.
“You keep your place filthy, too. Look at all these random pointy metal bits all over your floor! You should be more considerate. You could hurt someone, keeping it like this, dear boy. Ohohohohohooo!”, Sal boomed in a sing-song voice, kicking random pieces of the broken gun around while the elder writhed on the floor with two broken hands.

Sal moved behind the counter and picked the man up by the throat, slamming him against the wall. “Mmmm~~~... but as much as I'd like to play with you and... ~take you apart~... I really must insist that you give me what I want. I'm not here to hurt you, I just get lost in my own... hmhmhm... lusty tendencies.”

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WC: 1,102/2,500

Mr. Worthington would let the man drop to the floor, ceasing his iron grip on the man's throat as he sprang into a coughing fit. The man would finally speak, having no other choice but to engage with the man in a 'civil' conversation. “What do you... what do you want from me?!”, the old shopkeep finally croaked out in a panic voice, his reddened throat and broken hands making it difficult for his aged body to fight through the pain.

“I know you have your magic items here. And more than that, I know you have your fair share of... well, pretty illegal items, too. A friend of mine is going to need use of your items pretty soon, you see. So because of that, I'm going to have to take them from you.”, Sal explained, stepping to be above the man, showing the superiority of his egg body as he towered over the helpless, weak, roach-like shopkeeper.

Sal lit a cigar as he watched the wormy elder beg for his life, and try his best to speak with a nearly crushed throat. The sudden nature of this attack had the man on the verge of throwing up.

The elder tried his best and finally opened his mouth to do anything other than beg, but even then had the puppy dog eyes of a little boy about to be slaughtered. “You... you can't. There are thieves that come by every night, and... and take my money! My money, and my stock, and anything they feel like, just like you. If you wanted to help me, I could pay you and even give you something for your trouble! Please, anything! Just help me, and I can help you!”

Sal raised a hand to his many chins, stroking his flesh as if deciding something carefully. He made “hm, yes, of course” utterances to himself as he looked at the dimly lit ceiling of the shitty magic shop. In truth he wasn't thinking about anything, as he already decided that it would be more beneficial if he took the money and then still robbed the old man anyway, but an encounter with some thugs playing at being mafia sounded too fun to pass up. It was almost as if everything was turning Sal's way after all! Perhaps these thugs would be nice meals for the fat gangster. Perhaps they'd show that they were just sweet and juicy enough to really sink his teeth into. He would hunt them like they were deer in the woods, and he was an entire pack of wolves.

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WC: 1,533/2,500

Sal had spaced out so much thinking about the fantasy of dressing up in a greasy wolf suit and prancing through the fields, biting into deer booty, that he left the elderly man nearly having a panic attack as he decided whether the man would live or die here. He looked down at the shopkeep after another moment, and nodded his head with joy. “Oooooof course I'll help you! What are friends for, after all? You just pay me a whole awful bunch now, or oh goodness, oh heavens, oh my! I don't even know what would happen to you if you didn't. Hehehehehe... ohohohohoho!”, Sal would finally speak, giving his verdict on the situation and placing a huge burden on the shopkeep in the process.

As agreed upon, Sal would hide in wait in the shop at night and await the thieves' arrival. The shopkeep would stay upstairs and not come out for any reason until the conflict had resolved itself. Little did he know, Salazar Worthington was an opportunist. If the thieves offered a better deal, naturally he'd side with them. He was the kind of fat man that loved his treats, and could probably eat Yomu under a table if he needed to.

Sal needed a lot of money to supply his food addiction, and he wouldn't settle for less than the very best twinkies, donuts and burgers that the world had to offer. He'd drown himself in barbecue sauce, cola and sugar to the very end, and nobody playing at being strong would ever stop him from that. More than that, his good friend Tomoe was nearby and needed him to succeed! He'd never let Mr. Tanaka down, no sir, not after having been entrusted specifically to get money and items from this stupid rodent of a shopkeep!

And so, Sal would... “hide” under the counter, awaiting the arrival of the mafioso or whatever they were, Sal had already forgotten. They were little ingrates who needed money but daddy wasn't giving them an allowance anymore, as far as Sal was concerned, unless they could convince him otherwise. He awaited curled up underneath the counter like a happy little egg, breathing heavily at the thought of devouring and fully draining the life out of these rascals. They needed to learn respect, and who better to teach it than Sal? He'd already started balding, so he was therefore the perfect example to follow.

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WC: 1,938/2,500

The 'ding' of a bell signaling the opening of the shop's door rang out in the otherwise dead silent shop with all its lights off. The thugs, probably numbering four with the number of separate heavy footsteps that would enter and move towards the counter, would move as if confused. Perhaps they weren't expecting all the lights to be off? That just meant they were more incompetent than he originally thought. They hadn't even accounted for darkness. How sad.

When they got right next to the counter, Sal would act. All at once, he would jump over the counter and greet the first thug with a fistful of vengeance. He was a scrawny, rat-looking brat of a boy who didn't expect an attack, and was launched backwards, halfway across the shop, a broken nose and blood everywhere as he stumbled around on the floor.

“What the fuck?! Kill him!”, another of the thugs would shout out, but it was too late by then – Sal had already gotten his first smell of blood in the lingering, stagnant air of the dusty magic shop.

With speed unlike his physique, the rotund Salazar would close the distance to the next closest thug instantly, delivering an earth-shattering kick to his nuts. They would pop, and the man would go down quickly. The other two would try to... cast spells or something? One guy shot a bolt of lightning at Sal, and the other would try to put up an earth shield to defend himself. The robust Worthington simply took the shot of lightning and kept moving, and laughed at the shield.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...! It seems as if you think you've got a choice here in whether you live or die. I'm so sorry, boys, but you've already disappointed me. I'm not a very picky boy, but even I have standards. And unfortunately, while I was hoping to see some sweet honey nectar from you boys... I have only found sour grapes. And sour just isn't my flavor.”

Sal closed the gap with the last two in another instant, throwing a right fist at the lightning bolt shooter, and at the same time a left kick at the earth shield, which easily blew through it and connected with the earth mage behind it. The right fist crunched the lightning mage's head inwards, and the left kick cracked the ribs of the earth mage into itty bitty pieces, sending them both smashing into shelves full of magical items.

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WC: 2,359/2,500

The lightning mage even crashed into some oil urn and accidentally let loose a lightning spell, igniting the nearby area and setting himself on fire. With a head that probably resembled that of a bulldog's by now, the fire was the final touch to ruin the man's life once and for all. Even if he survived, he'd be irreparably changed and made to live like a freak for the rest of his life.

All in all, these men held nothing of interest that Sal would want them for. The only thing left was to eat them. He would load all of the thugs up against a wall, and got some rope from nearby in the shop to tie them all together. He'd kill them first, of course. He wouldn't give them a chance to beg, but end them soon, as all Sal saw of them now was food for later.

Later, after he had gotten his meals prepared for later, he'd talk to the shopkeep after the coast was clear and everything was safe. Well, safe for Sal. “My money.”, Sal would demand, and then rip a bag of jewels out of the elderly shopkeep's hands, shoving it into one of his pockets.

Afterwards, before leaving, Sal would break the elderly man's kneecaps and raided his cash register for extra money. Ignoring the man's pleas entirely this time, he'd steal anything he could get his hands on, on the way out. “Everything's one hundred percent off, honey. Sorry, that's how it is. Now I'll take my little snackies and be on my way! Pleasure doing business with you~!”

And with that, Sal would be off. He took with him many scrolls, mysterious trinkets, various treasures that sat on dusty shelves doing nothing, and of course a lot of money. Tomoe would certainly be satisfied with all of these things, and most importantly, Sal would be satisfied too! After all, with the rope of bound corpses dragging behind him, there would be plenty of food for Mr. Worthington to snack on over the course of the week. Whether Mr. Tanaka would call him for another task, the gluttonous gangster Salazar wouldn't have any need to go out for groceries for a little while. And truly, most of all, that was the best thing that could be accomplished on this shopping trip over anything else.

Sal would head to the nearest hotel, food trailing behind, and kill anyone who protested about it when he entered. He lit a cigar and took puffs of it as he vanished into the night.

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WC: 2,500/2,500

- EXIT -