13: Clash

The only man who is terrifying enough to help you face an enemy is so terrifying, he terrifies you out of asking for help. What a fucking joke.

So, after a long shower and a tiny breakfast, you dress in attire that hides your exhaustion and fright behind glorious fashion and leave the apartment with faux confidence. 

In the taxi you've called, you direct the driver to the pawn shop and use the time to call your bank and ensure no charges have been added to your card recently. You wouldn't put it past that nefarious shopkeeper to use your credit card as soon as he realized you had left it behind.

The dreaded neighborhood has lost most of its sting in the daylight, even the pawn shop appearing rather pathetic when its faded face and cracked letters are exposed. Peering at it through the cab window, you find an iota of strength when witnessing its pitiful state.

"Give me just one moment," you tell to the driver. "I'll be out in less than a minute." 

The driver consents to that, and you climb out of the cab and march towards the pawn shop. 

"Kenny," you call as soon as you step inside, subjecting yourself to hell before rationality can protest.  

Behind the counter is that blonde woman, Caven. Amongst the shelves is your target, the wicked Kenny Ackerman. Like a snake, he creeps out with predatory eyes and grins coyly at his returning victim. 

"Oh?" He plants a hand against a glass display case, his shoulder shrugging up as his weight shifts. "What happened to never, missy?"

"This is the last time," you declare, anchored to the floor. "Just give me my bag. I don't want anything to do with you." 

"Your bag?" He scratches his head and gives an exaggerated performance of looking around the shop. Partway through this act, he meets eyes with Caven and nods to the back door. She acknowledges him and leaves through the door, isolating him and his plaything. 

"Oh, your bag," he finally remembers. "I thought that was a donation. I've already put it up for sale in the shop." 

Stiffening, you shoot glances around the shelves. "You can't do that. Where the hell is it?"

"Dunno. Somewhere around here." He shrugs, turns on his heels, and saunters to the back counter. 

"Kenny," you gnarl, following several feet behind. "That's blatant theft. I could just call the police on you." 

"Oh, you could." He rests hands atop the project Caven has abandoned: a fresh handgun, recently cleaned and ready to be put up for sale. "But if you even think about reaching for your phone, we'll just have a little repeat of yesterday." He waves the gun in the air, demonstrating the fatal weapon. "But with a different toy this time. Do you want that?" 

You're frozen, your eyes glued to the gun. "That's...not loaded. It shouldn't be loaded if it's up for sale."

"Wanna test that?" With the question he points it directly at you, ready to experiment. 

The tiny muzzle of the weapon glares at you from across the room, threatening you with a bloody death if you step out of line. You cannot gamble with that chance. 

"No," you mumble. 

"What?"

"No, I don't." 

"Good." He leans back against the counter, fidgeting with the trigger. "Nor I. Pain in the ass to clean up."

Humiliated and frightened, you yearn to escape this hell already. "My bag, Kenny. Give it back." 

"I already told you, it's on display. Find it yourself, and maybe I'll sell it to you." 

"You cannot—"

He cocks the hammer on his gun.

You're silent, aware of the threat. You have to play this stupid game or else he really will test that thing on you. "Fine," you whisper as you dart through the aisles, checking each shelf rapidly before moving to the next. Kenny watches like a gleeful gamemaster, shooting remarks about how poor his organization or how well your personal effects will sell for. 

You're a furious mess when you arrive at the back of the store, but you halt in your tracks when you see the bag wedged stupidly between the trays of golden rings. It looks horribly out of place, a ridiculous nest for the bait he's taunting you with. 

You point a stiff finger into the glass face. "There. Give it back." 

"Good find," he roleplays. "It's a bit on the cheaper end so I won't sell it for too much. Just hand me your card, and I'll ring you up."

"Just give it." You cannot meet his eyes this close, instead stiffly staring at your bag. It's trapped within the glass box, and for a moment you wonder how fragile that glass is.

"I don't just give merchandise. You'll have to—"

"What do you want from me, Kenny?!" You backpedal away from him lest he punish you for your outburst. "What have I done to you? Why can't you just let me go?"

He inspects the barrel of his gun, grinning to himself. "Are you kiddin'? You're Levi's intern. Nobody on this planet is closer to that man than you are. I couldn't ask for a better connection to that runt."

"That's not my damn business. Whatever shit you two have going on isn't my business."

"Not your business?" He seems genuinely shocked with that question, pure confusion in his eyes. "Missy, your entire purpose for coming here was to pry into Levi's life. You've been addicted to learning about him since the moment we met! You're just lucky I indulged your ugly craving to stalk him."

"I was not—"

"But if you wanna go that badly, then I'll let ya. Here, come get your stuff."

"What—"

An explosion of glass shatters when he slams the butt of his gun into the counter's face, shards shooting into the case and raining on the rows of jewelry. A gaping hole is left behind, a clear entryway to your possessions.

You're stunned, pushed back a step out of surprise. He's indifferent to damage of his own property, happy to destroy anything if it amuses him. Levi has been well and fully surpassed on the scale of twisted individuals.

"Come fetch, missy. S'all yours." He rests an elbow on the counter, looming over the cave he's made. The gun sits lazily in his hands, too casual for such a dangerous weapon.

It's right there. Just get it and go. Escape this monster's den. Push through this final stretch, and you'll never have to see him again.

One step is taken closer to Kenny, then another. You force yourself to watch his eyes as you approach, wary of any unexpected movements.

When you have to crouch down, you despise the way you're looking up at his toothy smile, pathetic underneath his power. Your hand shoots inside the case and grabs your bag instantly, shaking glass shards off of it before bringing it close to your chest.

"I'm surprised." Kenny presses the gun's muzzle right against your forehead, paralyzing you. "He must really hate you if he's still refusing to show up. I think he just wants you dead."

You feel like you're going to throw up, terror and shock gnashing into your brain and churning your stomach. "Wh-what? He—"

"Come on, runt," Kenny shouts towards the entry door. "I have a goddamn gun pointed at her head. You wanna be responsible for the death of an innocent lady?"

The shop is silent. Beyond the glass face of the door, nobody is seen.

"Fuckin' brat," he mutters. "Alright, so be it." Returning his attention to you, he sighs as though he's been tasked with an arduous chore. "Sorry, missy. Just the way things gotta be."

He puts a tensed finger on the trigger, prepared to end your life. In the brief moment before that arrives, you squeak out a horrified, "W-wait—"

"Alright," a new voice interrupts, a familiar voice that cuts in before you get slaughtered. "Alright, I'm fucking here."

The wind chimes draw your eyes to the entry, where a ruffled Levi Ackerman has entered. He's lost the confident professionality he had this morning, instead morphed into a seething and frenzied beast that stares down his uncle and intern with the desire to kill one or both.

"L-Levi," you stutter, no doubt a desperate plea this time. "Levi!"

"Get away from her," Levi snarls. "Get the fuck away from her."

Kenny shakes his head, his disgusting smile cemented onto his face. "You sure took your time, huh?"

Levi darts closer, slinking close to the shelves to give himself cover. "I'm here now—are you happy? Now get away."

"But she's my leverage, kid." Kenny rubs the muzzle against your forehead as if petting his animal. "She's the only way I can get you to show your face around here."

"Okay, I'm here, so you're done with her." Levi frowns at the sight of his subjugated intern, and you can't tell if that glare is only meant for Kenny or intended to be shared with you.

"I dunno." With dreaded steps, Kenny maneuvers behind you and hooks an arm under your shoulder, yanking you to your feet while the gun stays carefully trained on your temple. "She's been pretty helpful to me. I might just keep her around." 

"No, please." With unstoppable tremors wracking your body, you shy your skull away from the gun until Kenny's free hand claps mighty, enormous fingers over your lips.

"Quiet, missy. The adults are talking." Kenny stifles a chuckle as he looks over Levi. "If you can call that little kid an adult." 

Levi scoffs, unable to let such insults bounce off of him. "Quit hiding behind her, Kenny. You look pathetic." 

"Then come take her back. Isn't that what you want?" Kenny hugs your torso with your body, his arm crushing your ribcage like a boa snake. You suffocate under his hand, slapping hands against his arm haphazardly.

"Give her," Levi commands as he steps closer, but he sees Kenny exert a feather of pressure on the trigger and halts. "Give her back," he seethes through gritted teeth.

"See," Kenny murmurs into your ear. "Levi doesn't like it when you take his toys from him."

"Kenny."

"And fortunately, you're far more than just his intern. You're his toy, missy. A plaything he's very possessive over." Kenny's grin bleeds into his words, the sadistic delight in his tone slithering into your head. "And people like us love to take advantage of people like you. Captors and hostages, that's all. You're just on the wrong end of the exchange." 

"Shut up, Kenny," Levi gnarls. "You're not going to shoot her." As he speaks, he reaches into the folds of his blazer and whips out a switchblade, flicking the weapon open. The blade gleams in the yellow light, and his slender fingers grasp it like a delicate flower. 

"No?" Kenny sees the blade, but he does not fear it like you do. "Should we test that?"

Your fight is kickstarted to a higher level, your head shaking frantically as you whine out desperate denial. The muzzle taps your temple, ready to fire. 

"You can't cover it up. Not like you do with everything else." Levi takes risky steps closer, eyeing his uncle warily. "The police will have enough evidence to arrest you. You and Caven don't have enough time to hide this, and I certainly will not be silent." 

"Sure, maybe," Kenny concedes. "But that starts with losing her. Are you going to kill your pet just to get me arrested?" 

"I'm—" For a moment, Levi locks eyes with you. He's a lighthouse amongst the shrouds of terror, though the comfort in his eyes is a flickering candle at best. He's trying to win for your sake, but the look he's casting upon you seems devoid of longing. You're merely a lesser of two evils right now. 

"You're what? You're too addicted to her to risk that? I figured." Kenny straightens up and lowers his hand to your neck, pressing you firmly against his chest. "So be it."

"Levi!" you shriek. "Oh, god!"

"We'll talk after she's dead."

"Kenny!"

There's a click as Kenny pulls the trigger, the immediate and revelatory giveaway that the gun is empty.

"Huh," Kenny utters. "Caven really did leave it empty."

In a flash, Levi zooms forward and slams his body against your chest, thrusting his arm between you and Kenny. He tears you away from the shopkeeper, who he has deftly shoved a switchblade into the abdomen of. 

"Oh—fuck," Kenny grunts, grabbing the knife that sticks out of his body. His hand is saturated with dark blood that stains his shirt, a sickly pool trickling out of his wound. "Fuck, that hurts, kid! Piece of shit." 

"Ohmygod."  You're flung away from both men by Levi, stumbling back on shaky legs. "You stabbed—stabbed—"

Levi wastes no time, grabbing an adjacent multi-tiered shelf and yanking it off-balance, sending it and its contents crashing down to create a barrier between him and his uncle. 

"Goddammit," Kenny hollers over the sound of shattering ornaments and crumbling electronics. He staggers away from the impact and totters behind the glass counter, wincing as he rips the knife out. The hand that held your throat now plants itself on the wound, corking the spurting puncture. 

"Don't fucking follow us," Levi orders as he paces away from the wreckage. "If I ever see you at Paradis, I'll kill you myself. Don't ever touch her again." He snatches your wrist, claiming full and rightful ownership of his property, before storming to the exit. 

"You still owe your uncle, Levi!" Kenny's voice is hoarse as he bellows out a reminder, and his speech is followed by a quiet groan of pain. Levi doesn't respond, and Kenny soon surrenders with a, "Dammit. Dammit. Caven, come here!" 

Dragged out of the shop by Levi, you trip over your own feet as the memory of the bleeding shopkeeper burns into your brain. "H-he—you—" 

"Shut up." Levi throws you against the side of his sedan, your back crashing into the driver's door. 

"He was going to kill me," you squeak, recalling how uncomfortably close you were to death. "You stabbed h-him—you fucking stabbed—"

"Shut up!" He snatches your shoulders and swiftly shoves you into the car again, pinning your form that'll buckle without his support. 

Your lips slam shut, your wide eyes stuck on Levi's lapel. Fear dominates your mind, Levi no more safe than Kenny.

"Are you happy with yourself?" He crushed your shoulders and knifes you with his eyes, eyes that are pleading with you while simultaneously screaming at you. "Do you finally fucking realize what happens when you pry into my life? Has it gotten through your goddamn head?!"

"Levi," you whimper, cringing away from him. "I'm s-sorry!"

"For fuck's sake, I wasn't pushing you away just to be a dick. You saw and heard and felt everything that is wrong with me in there!" He pushes your head up once you try tucking it, forcing eye contact. "That fucker is a shit stain on my history. He's fucked up and dangerous as hell."

"I-I know. I'm—"

"If you know, then why the fuck did you come here? Why the fuck have you been coming here? Those forty fucking miles...goddammit, intern! Why?"

In the silence following his question, you feel your heart begin to fracture. "I..." is all that leaves your hyperventilating lungs, the silent, trickling tears speaking volumes more than you need to.

"Why?" he repeats, his voice a fragile whisper.

You can't say anything, and even now you can't answer him. You don't know anymore. Blind curiosity has led you into this trap, this atrocious pit of depravity that was never meant for your eyes.

Burying your cheek in his hand, you silently urge him to stop. Kenny has done enough; Levi doesn't need to rub salt in the wound.

And he does. With a sigh, he releases you and steps back. "Get in the car. We're leaving."

You obey, sinking into the passenger seat while clinging to your handbag like a stuffed animal. Levi shuts the door beside you before circling to his seat, collapsing against the cushion like a vexed parent.

He doesn't say a word as he starts the car and rolls out of the lot, back onto the streets. The taxi from earlier is gone, but it feels so pointless to worry about a second taxi fee now.

"I paid for the cab," Levi says, reading your mind.

You swallow, grateful but silent.

Slow minutes pass within the car. Your heart continues to race, and you just barely slow your breathing before you faint. It's purgatory, but it's better than hell.

Finally, Levi speaks.

"How long have you been meeting with him?"

Your fingertips continue to quiver as they nervously scratch at the surface of your bag. "Since last Tuesday. A week ago."

"A week," he repeats. "Who told you about him?"

Erwin did, but you don't want to call him out. More people don't need to get dragged—

"Erwin must've." You barely have to speak; he can answer most of his own questions. "How the hell did he know about Kenny?"

"He doesn't," you answer, catching the opportunity to protect your ex-mentor. "He just knew you worked at a pawn shop. I discovered Kenny on my own."

He tsks, his irises peeking your way. "And are you proud of what you discovered?"

The past few minutes give a resounding no, but the days before that were more fruitful than you'd like to admit. You found out a lot about Levi.

A lot about his personal life. Without his permission.

"I'm sorry," is your answer.

He scrutinizes your expression for deceit, then gives up with a quiet sigh. He's unfamiliar with this deference, and he's sensing the guilt wafting around you.

"If I had known you would pry this hard, I would've just told you myself."

The streets zoom by around you. The purr of the engine vibrates your body, partially disguising your tremors.

"I didn't think you'd go after Kenny."

"I didn't know who Kenny was," you weakly defend. "Not at first, anyways."

"Well I'll tell you who he is: He's a terrible person, an absolute shithead that fucked me up. He's a criminal that's barely escaping the law and somebody you should never associate with." He reaches across and knocks a few knuckles into your temple, keeping you alert. "You got that?"

"Y-yeah." You certainly do now. You've never received a more effective lesson in your life. A dance with death has left you wholly reformed, forcing you back into a cave and deterring you from leaving for quite some time. Had Levi not been there, you might've not been around to heed this lesson. 

"Wait, Levi?"

"What?"

"How'd...you know I was at the shop?"

"I followed you. I didn't trust your little play-acting this morning; not one bit. Your secrets were one thing, but missing school was way too unusual. I couldn't let it slide."

"Oh, school." You slouch against the window, your eyes dancing from one skyscraper to the next. "It must be partway through your second class by now. Maybe we could drop by and get some work—"

"Don't be stupid. Shut up." He presses harshly on the accelerator when he merges onto the highway. 

"Well, it's the least we could do—"

"What, go to fucking Paradis? I don't give two shits about Paradis right now. You were just held at gunpoint—I'm not taking you to the fucking academy." He fiercely weaves his way through tight holes in the army of cars. "You're in shock, so quit saying stupid shit and follow my lead."

Maybe you are in shock. You really don't know. All you can feel is the trembling of your body and the thumping of your heart. You'll follow his lead because you don't know what else you should be doing.

"Where are we going?"

"My place. Once I make sure we're not being followed."

"Your place?"

"That's what I said." 

So be it. You close your eyes, listening to your own body convince itself to relax. Anywhere besides the pawn shop is fine. Crawling back into the frying pan after experiencing the fire sounds more desirable than it should, but you're out of energy to complain. So fucking be it.