Some things you should know beforehand: this story contains graphic depictions of violence, mentions of rape, murder, serial killers, and general depictions of the criminal underworld. It also contains things like Levi in glasses, courtrooms, legalistic brilliance, switching (and thus sex), and a slow build.
It was June, and that meant two things: law school graduations and certifications, and, as a matter of course, a new crop of over-eager and under-experienced newly minted lawyers would invade Levi Ackerman's firm. At least 75 percent of them would quit before September, but those three months of doe-eyed baby lawyers filled with righteous anger all hankering for his attention and approval was more than enough for him. His position as chief partner (and Erwin's position as fucking useless for this type of thing) necessitated Levi greeting the new recruits, which is how he found himself on the hottest day of the year in a three-piece suit pretending like he was happy about the four visibly anxious people in front of him.
"Try to go easy on them," Erwin had begged the day before. "They're young, not monsters."
"I'm not cold because they're young, I'm cold because they're stupid and think life is a marathon of Law and Order, or worse, Criminal Minds," Levi has said dismissively.
"Oh, come on, that only happened one time. Just be nice."
"Tch. It weeds out the weak. And if I were nice to them, what a shock it'll be when they find out what I'm like."
And that was why Erwin no longer welcomed the new recruits: he was too nice. Erwin was an unfortunate characteristic of kind (he gave genuine compliments) and nice (but he'd give you a disingenuous one if he thought you needed it). Levi was neither nice nor particularly kind. After the disastrous summer of 2011 when all six new recruits were positive they were guaranteed a spot, none of them got it, and one of them tried to burn down the firm, Levi designated himself the giver of the welcome speech, even if he would rather slowly break each knuckle of his fingers.
He observed the recruits through half-hooded eyes, nicknaming them as he went. Coconut Head (aren't you a little too old for bowl cuts?) was clenching and unclenching his hands and trying (and failing spectacularly) to maintain eye contact. Red Scarf (seriously, who the fuck wears a scarf in the middle of summer?) was staring ahead at a spot somewhere over Levi's head, seemingly detached. Hawk Nose's face kept shifting, as though she was trying to overcome what was obviously a very strong case of Resting Bitch Face. She was running her hands up and down her arms slowly, as if cold. The last, Bright Eyes, was the only one successfully making steady eye contact, though his hands were so tightly balled at the sides Levi imagined he could hear the sound of the boy's knuckles creaking. Levi raised an eyebrow in surprise and cleared his throat.
The effect was instantaneous. Although the group had hardly been sloppy before, they snapped as if shocked. "Ah, well," Levi started, "I suppose I should congratulate you. You've been told that by being here right after passing the bar, you're the best of the best, et cetera. I suppose that's true, but I think in the coming weeks you'll be asking yourselves exactly what standards were used to define your greatness."
Coconut Head looked vaguely confused. Red Scarf deigned to make actual eye contact now, and Levi was startled by the grayness of her eyes. Hawk Nose had opted for crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows—Levi wasn't sure whether she was trying to feign disinterest or profound interest. Bright Eyes was so tightly wound that he was beginning to remind Levi of a racehorse. Having gathered his impressions, he continued.
"This is the real world. I'm well aware of the experience you already have, but there are no do-overs here. When you work on a case, it affects real people—it's not a simulation, or a clinic, or a carefully selected case your professors are assigning you where you're guaranteed a win. That means one thing: have no regrets. You might not always win. You might defend someone you know is guilty or prosecute someone you're sure is innocent. Make your decisions and stand by them. Trust your fellow lawyers and clerks, but trust yourself most of all. Hesitancy is weakness. Weakness puts innocent people in jail and lets guilty ones walk free. Oh, and one more thing—I don't really have to tell you that you're starting out clerking, do I?"
Evidently he did. The women's postures didn't move, but Coconut Head's face visibly deflated, and Bright Eyes looked horribly affronted. Levi imagined he heard the gritting of teeth.
"Follow Petra, and she'll set you up with desks and get you set up for direct deposits with your banks. Tomorrow Erwin and I will give you assignments—" because this is my day off and I'm already doing far more than I really want to, he didn't add. The group continued to gawk at him, frozen like a tableau. He rolled his eyes. "What are you, deaf? Dismissed." And get the hell out of my office.
They jumped, but managed to avoid actually breaking into a run as they followed Petra down the hall. Levi leaned back in his chair and sighed, scrubbing at his face. He wasn't convinced the air conditioning was working, but he had too much pride to take off his jacket. Some distant part of his brain vibrated as he noted the locked top drawer of his desk, but he was in no mood to start something only to be interrupted. He closed his eyes. He heard a thunk and a loud buzzing as a cicada bounced off the window. His office was too high above traffic for the sound to travel, but the trees outside harbored every kind of wildlife and he'd already replaced the windows several times due to various incidents. The worst were the cicadas. The drone burrowed into Levi's mind, simultaneously lulling him into unproductivity and making him grit his teeth with keyed-up nerves. He idly thought of what it would take to get Erwin to switch offices with him when Petra knocked quietly and came in without waiting for an answer.
"Well, what's the verdict?" she asked, sitting on the opposite side of his desk and slipping her shoes off.
Levi heard them hit the floor and fought the urge to scowl at her. "Well, let's see. 75 percent down from four means there can only be one, or there's likely only going to be one." He ran his thumb over his upper lip in thought. "Hawk Nose"— "Levi, you're horrible"— "looked bored as hell, so she's probably out. Coconut Head"— "Levi"— "is out because he looks like he might shit himself if he needed to pay someone a visit at the jail. Red Scarf is out because I get the feeling that entry-level positions are beneath her, so I'm thinking she'll quit." He tilted back. "That leaves Bright Eyes."
Petra shook her head. "Amazing," she said weakly. "I would be appalled if you weren't almost always right. So what is it about him? Eren Jaeger?"
Levi raised his eyebrows. He didn't bother to learn names until he could be sure who would make the cut. "He's the only one who kept eye contact with me the whole time."
Petra groaned. "You are beyond all hope or help."
Levi shrugged. "I guess we'll see."
Petra left him in silence to go do whatever it was that she did to keep this place running. Levi never questioned her methods; he just paid reverence to them (and an appalling amount of money to her). The top drawer of Levi's desk screamed for his attention. His fingers twitched in indecision and he settled into a decidedly annoyed frame of mind. Days off were supposed to be sacred, and it wasn't Levi's fault that Erwin was in court today, but he was already here and had already fished the key out of his pocket before he realized what he was doing. He spread the docket out in front of him and popped his knuckles absently.
The facts: Mina Carolina, nineteen, deceased around January 2. Prior to time of death, brutally raped in a manner that resulted in extensive internal trauma. Cause of death was a cut to the throat that was clean with a surgical precision. Postmortem the body was dismembered in a manner consistent with medical knowledge or training. For seven days a different part of the body was found in a different place in Mitras. The body was wiped clean of prints or fluids of any kind, including the victim's. Given up by the police as a runaway despite no prior history or inclination to run away, which delayed a search until three days after disappearance.
The peculiarity: the killer left a cipher with each body part that, when cracked, revealed where the next part would be. Despite being able to determine approximately when and where each body part would turn up and despite exhaustive police presence, not a single eyewitness or surveillance camera caught the delivery man. The parts simply appeared. The last body part came with its own cipher, as yet unsolved.
The accused: Bertholdt Hoover, twenty-one. From a rough area of Mitras, he showed average scholastic aptitude but extraordinary athletic talent and received a scholarship to the University of St. Sina. Reportedly enamored with Ms. Carolina, he supposedly "went off the rail," so to speak, when she refused his attentions. Testimony from Mr. Hoover's roommate, one Reiner Braun, disputed this and alleged he and the accused have been in a monogamous relationship for more than two years, with Ms. Carolina merely a good friend. Unfortunately, there were two rather obvious problems: both Mr. Braun and Mr. Hoover were closeted and hadn't disclosed their relationship to even their closest friends, and it was rather difficult to come up with reasonable excuses for Mr. Hoover to have in his possession several medical-grade scalpels and Ms. Carolina's blood-spattered skirt.
The supposition: Levi would willingly stake his certification on the fact that he knows who the killer was. He would also stake his certification on the fact that he had no idea how to find said killer.
Levi pinched the bridge of his nose firmly, hoping to stave off a headache before it arrived. You're getting sloppy, he thought critically, though he was unsure whether he was talking to himself or to the (real) killer. He squinted at his to-do list, and the voice of conscience in his head that sounded oddly like Petra barked at him to stop pretending he didn't need glasses. He reached for the phone and dialed a number he knew by heart with one hand.
"Do I have the pleasure of addressing Captain America, or Short Stack?" asked an overly cheerful voice.
"You'll have the pleasure of addressing my foot up your ass, Shitty Glasses," Levi deadpanned, and Hanji gave a delighted laugh in response. Their telephone exchange rarely deviated. "Especially if you don't have good news for me," he warned.
The beat Hanji missed was sufficient answer. "Levi…we're really trying, but holy shit and all the saints, whoever wrote this is like, light-years ahead of the intelligence of mere mortals. Is there a greater unit of measurement than light-years? There should be, just for this. I mean, I like to consider myself the master of all challenges and I'm damn near killing myself over it. Mike's been drinking so much coffee that you can like, smell it coming out of his pores. It's gross. And impressive."
"Hanji," Levi interrupted, before the conversation found itself to discussing the digestive systems of two-tailed unicorns. "When have you ever considered yourself a mere mortal?"
"Oh…" Levi could imagine Hanji's wicked grin. "Your unwavering faith in me is a boost as always, Short Stuff."
"Have you tried approaching it as if it were written to translate into another language?" he steamrolled.
"What are you thinking?"
""Something obscure enough that Rosetta Stone hasn't bothered with it."
"You got a guess?"
"Take with a grain of salt, because it's an incredibly wild one with no merit, but try things a classics student would use. Fuck, I don't know…" he trailed off, desperately trying to recall the names to mind. "Koine Greek, probably not Latin except for the most ancient forms…Aramaic, maybe?"
Hanji was ominously quiet. "Levi…what do you know?"
He let out a long sigh through his teeth. "Nothing yet, I swear on my cleaning supplies. Just trust me on this."
"I always do." Predictably, Hanji hung up without saying goodbye.
Levi scratched out that particular item on his list and squinted at the clock. If he left now, he'd have time to change before taking care of the next thing—no way was he wearing his second-best suit where he needed to go.
Welcome to my winter project!
1. It's not as dark as the tags would have you believe.
2. This will be based off the American legal system because I write what I know. And if you really wanna know, the train system in Mitras is based off the L in Chicago because again, I write what I know.
3. Chapter titles will denote the narrator, but I'm about 99 percent sure there will only be two narrators.
Come say hey/scream at me on tumblr: .com