Author's Note: This will have 2 chapters. I don't know if there's a fic with these events, so thought I might as well try it. I believe it's not official, but I take it's Kuchel's pimp we see in c69. Levi's age at this moment isn't official either.

This took me so long to write I actually wrote a smaller fic in between, 'Choice'. I have barely done anything else for a whole week.

Written to 100+ plays of 'Fists Fall' by OTEP, 'Tear the Whole World Down' by We Are the Fallen and many nightcore versions of Evanescence music, specially 'End of the Dream'

Warnings and rated M for language, violence, dysfunctional families, underage drinking and fighting, and forced underage prostitution mentions later on. Nothing is explicit, but I think it needs the rating and I've asked opinions to readers that agreed.

Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin or any characters. Man, I wish I did or that I could at least draw Levi.

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The blade might as well be part of his hand, an extension of him. In many senses, it already was, whether he liked it or not.

He didn't mind it anymore. He didn't feel stress or guilt like he did in the beginning - and if he did, he learned to mask it just enough to not be used against him. His grip didn't shake anymore, he didn't think about how his mother would feel with his progress - and if he did, he learned to smother it in the late sleepless nights. His movements became faster and stronger each time, until any tricks and alterations he might do to deviate from the original teachings worked just right and better. That was what he needed to survive. Not just because Kenny told him so; because Levi experienced it everyday.

We're fucking insignicant, kid. We're worse than vermin, garbage. And I can't fucking stand that. Our little lives, struggling just to survive, it's so damn enfuriating. That's why I want more, I want it all. That's all you need, ya hear me Levi? Power. Power allows you to live and have everything. You don't need anything else. You keep up, gotta go to the top, and tear the whole world down if ya don't like what ya see. Kenny once told him, drunker than he probably thought he was. Levi registered the words because he wasn't so megalomaniac. He couldn't care less for Kenny's views. He had smaller objectives that Kenny would probably sneer at through his power-mad haze, but were quite enough for Levi.

And today he'd accomplish the biggest one.

It wasn't that anything in the past days had triggered this particular resolution; it was simply long due. There was no need stalling when he knew he could do this.

Levi tested the knife once again, turning it on his hand in a flash and striking an invisible enemy. He did it two more times, and then repeated, drawing the knife from the backpocket hidden beneath his mother's tattered shirt, trying out how much it slowed him down. It didn't.

"Nice," Kenny commented, returning from the restroom and hitting the door behind him. Levi had demanded to have a proper restroom after the last hole Kenny made them spend the night in. "Don't forget to keep a strong grip, even if it's that weird way of yours. You're small, you can't finish them like I do but-"

Levi kicked the imaginary opponent, swirled the blade and threw the knife in an arch that cut through invisible flesh with a sharp hiss.

"I can do just fine if they're at my level."

"That's what I was gonna say, brat. Ya should have let me finish."

Levi wanted to train his draw once again, so he pulled his jacket and shirt up to properly adjust the backpocket. Apparently, he must have exposed too much skin of his back, because Kenny found in it something new to amend.

"You need to gain some damn weight, put on some muscle. Otherwise you'll fly everytime I sneeze," Kenny rebuked, picking up his hat and passing by Levi with a little pat on his shoulder.

"Not so hard when you can't sneeze without farting."

"You little shit," Kenny turned back and held him by the nape, tousling his hair and shoving him down roughly, not really to hurt him, just to annoy Levi. It always worked, and Kenny grinned at the youngster's frown as he rubbed his neck.

"Stop that already."

"I'll stop when ya start growing. Maybe you need to drink more milk, make your bones stronger or somethin'." Kenny let out a tsk sound which made Levi roll his eyes. The babbling was starting, and as usual, he blocked the old man's voice as he tucked the blade safely on his pocket, straightening his clothes and hair.

"Are you listening to me? I'm here trying to teach you some food important stuff!"

"Not interested."

"Then at least get better at the knife skills."

"Just watch me."

Kenny snorted and adjusted his hat on his head. "I've gotta better things to do with my time."

Levi shrugged. He checked the knife one last time before he glided outside Kenny's safehouse. He heard a rustle sound as Kenny put on the longcoat.

Not even a block away from the safehouse, Levi encountered an MP, a young man way too fresh out of recruitment to know what he'd gotten himself into, being sent to the Underground after Kenny's latest rampage. Three in a single night. Levi had distracted the last one. Everyone knew military police were particularly agigated with the deaths they couldn't even pinpoint a culprit to, and they were getting rougher in their investigations. But that guy looked like a baby. Levi didn't spare him more than a glance, the MP wouldn't be a threat where he was going and wouldn't be worth Kenny killing him right now. He simply ignored the MP's attempt to look professionally cold as he uselessly inspected the streets. Levi heard a merry greeting as Kenny too noticed the MP, nodding at him with his hat. Likewise, Kenny ignored him.

He hadn't shared with Kenny what he was intending to do, but it was obvious the older man had the intention to follow him from afar. Levi often called him out with a remark that made Kenny squint and growl something in return, but not this time. If he wanted to watch or evaluate or whatever the hell it was, let him.

Levi had wondered once if Kenny did this purposefully obvious following to create a controlled sense of freedom. If it had a sort of teacher intention, watching his steps from a distance to allow some supervised self growth. Or to remind possible stalkers and enemies that that scrawny brat was his unintended protegé, and possibly step in to help if some shitty situation unfolded.

He had wondered if Kenny would actually help him should tides turn and Levi found himself in a tight situation. Or if he would laugh and let him to get out of his own mess, even if it meant being knocked around.

Both had happened, so Levi had no idea what to expect. So that was basically the one time he had thought on the subject; he realized it was no use trying to decide which version of Kenny he actually felt safer with. Kenny wanted to follow him, good luck keeping up.

"You gotta a date or somethin'? I only race that much when I'm meeting some beautiful busty lass. You're reaching that age, uh?"

"You're not such a good stalker as you think."

"Who you're calling a stalker, midget?"

"Piss off somewhere else, Kenny."

"I ain't following you, runt, I'm on my way to drinking a nice beer. You goin' too?"

Levi turned to the square, the usual pack of people he found there only justified by the barrack that worked as a pub some feets away. Mostly men, who towered over Levi, loud chattering and smell of alcohol. His constant repulsion reached alarming levels in that filthy drench, but he could tolerate it in times of need. This would therefore be one.

MPs wouldn't do shit here. Too many Underground people for some military from the surface, and they didn't know who wanted to rip their throats. So there was none of them in sight.

He slithered between the men, an effortless task in every sense of the word. One of them waggled back and bumped against his shoulder, but Levi ignored him, sliding around the next man to move foward before anyone could really notice him. Kenny couldn't navigate so fast and seemlessly through the crowd, so he remained behind, and would stay in the sidelines. Levi peeked the faces as he passed, but he knew he had to get closer to the balcony.

The man stood out as if he was highlighted in both color and shape. When he had first found him drinking with the owner of the place, some days before, Levi remembered thinking if he actually stood out, or if the man simply registered in his mind differently. Either way, the man was remarkably large, even amongst beer-bloated drunks. Rather an accomplishment, in the Underground. But then again, scum like him had little work to do and enough income to fill their bellies. He was engaged in a loud conversation with an unknown, younger man.

It would be no problem.

Kenny would go for a quick hit to the throat; the man wouldn't even see it coming, drowning in his own blood in a couple of heart beats. The crowd would actually work in his favor, should he elect this scenario for a kill. Levi knew how it was done, knew it was Kenny's method and knew it worked.

It wasn't his method. Not for a short, eleven year old. Kenny towered over the fat man, while Levi didn't reach his shoulders. Not a quick hit, but like in his training, a strategically planned incapacitating move would turned him as effective as Kenny and finish this in some seconds.

Not his method. Not this time.

"Hey."

The fat man didn't acknowledge him at first. The younger man that accompained him, drinking at his side, glanced at Levi, cackling at some sort of personal joke.

"Someone wants your attention," he babbled, pouring beer down his throat.

"Eh? Can't even fucking drink at peace, always get damn crawlers..."

The fat man turned eventually, right before Levi was ready to call him again. He apparently expected someone taller, as his eyeline gazed in a straight level, a lot higher from Levi's eyes. The man blinked at the empty space there and then lowered, finally finding the skinny young boy.

"Oh, it's an actual crawler," he laughed, the black holes between his teeth made clear. It sent a familiar sense through Levi that he immediately wanted to shove off him like dirt. All things considered, the pimp hadn't changed that much. "Aren't you too young to be looking for a hooker?"

He really didn't remember him? Maybe it shouldn't be surprising.

"You took something from me."

The younger man with the beer shrugged.

"Tough luck."

Levi took a single glance at the snooper, his face an increasing scowl. Otherwise, his features didn't betray his feelings. His breathing was steady. Kenny would scold him otherwise, because Kenny never got emotional in his jobs, but then again, Levi wasn't Kenny.

Still, breathing steady.

"Do I look like I need to steal from crawlers? Beat it, kid," the fat man said, snorting and turning from the young boy.

Not so steady anymore.

"Nature really didn't give you common sense, did it."

"Beat it!"

"Don't turn your back to me, you fucking pig." His threat wasn't taken serious, just made the two men and several of the ones nearby sneer.

His hand flew to his back, and the action might have been familiar enough to the younger man because he immediately shouted "Knife!", but he didn't expect Levi to swirl on his heels and strike faster than a snake. He didn't move to draw the knife, rather used it as a distraction to use as momentum and increase speed. The fat man turned with the shout, and got immediately kicked in the stomach, sending him to his knees grunting and squealing like the pig he was, vomiting traces of beer and foam.

The younger man was startled by the agression, but was quick to react and move to punch Levi before he could attack the teethless pimp again. He caught Levi on the side of the head, misscalculating the height of his cheek. The hit drove him slightly off balance, staggering him just enough for the fat man to uncurl from around his belly and strike too. They were at the same level now, so the man's fist collided with Levi's nose and threw him back, blood coming out in pumps of pain.

The bystanders backed off hastely after the first strike, making room not to avoid injury, but to enjoy the spectacle. The cheers started to echo almost immediately, no one really knowing what was going on and who they were cheering for. They just cheered the violence.

That was when the younger man jumped to grab Levi, shouting threats and victory claims, and that was when Levi drew the knife, swirling the blade too fast to be seen and throwing it in an arch that cut through actual flesh this time, not an empty hiss sound but screams from the man as his dirty shirt grew damp, diagonal cut pouring blood through his abdomen. He stumbled back and out of Levi's range, more out of fear than from the actual injury.

The crowd cheered louder at that, clapping and probably already exchanging some bets between them.

Levi spinned around again, his jacket sliding through one of his arms, and found the fat man as he was standing up, greasy eyes and remaining teeth gritted in rage. With a growl that carried much more than he even cared to admit, Levi kicked the man in the head, but his leg collided with a forearm rather than a skull. He tried to make Levi fall, but this time he avoided losing his ground and maintained balance. The pimp stood up, all advantage currently lost - only a matter of working out a new advantage. The pimp wasn't as slow as his body might lead to assume, and he tried punching Levi several times before drawing a knife of his own.

Mistake and advantage.

The blade was part of his arm. The fat man might threaten people, might force people to work for him and might get others to do his dirty jobs, but he had held a knife in an actual fight about five times in his life. Levi was being groomed by a serial killer into becoming like him.

Yet he wasn't Kenny, and would never be.

Levi blocked the fat man's strike and sent the other knife flying through the air. More screams echoed. After attacking one of the legs, this time his kick found a head in its way, and the man fell down.

At a certain point, he realized some of the screams he heard were his own, but he didn't care to turn them into coherent words.

Levi ignored each and every single person around them, his eyes, his mind, his rage focused and shoved in each kick, his strength never feeling enough. He just wasn't strong enough, his body couldn't let go of all the rage in him, no matter if the pimp was sprawled on the ground beneath him, no matter if Levi literally jumped over him time and again. His foot stomped on the man's nose and it snapped beneath him.

Levi clenched around the man's collar, the muscles of his arm burning and straining from the abnormal weight as he pulled the man up, the pain working only to make him angrier.

"Do you fucking remember me now?!" The flaccid face beneath him was bloodied and starting to swell, a thick red trail wormed its way to the hair, the nose not as desfigured as it should, he still had too many teeth despite the effort. He was numbed and whimpering, a pathetic excuse of a pig, just like he wanted. He pulled the knife to the man's throat.

The bystanders cheered him on loudly, the sound helping to pump more adrenaline in his blood and filling him with a sense of power that, for once, made him feel like Kenny. He should kill this person that caused him and his mother so much pain, he shouldn't hesitate. Kenny would be angry if he backed down and didn't finish this; his mother would be sad if she saw him continue. Killing him would end it.

But it was over already. His mother was dead and no amount of killing would change that. Her wishes might echo in him, Kenny's scolding might affect him, but it was down to him to decide what to do.

Levi let the man fall head first to the ground, gasps of air and blood coming from his mouth. At least he'd leave some lasting damage, the pimp would be forced to remember the skinny little brat he misjudged for the rest of his days.

Levi breathed easy for once in his life. For once, he felt truly accomplished, and in a burst of adrenaline-induced pride, he looked up, looked for Kenny. Levi had completely ignored him until now, but with the cheers and incentive yells from the bystanders, he couldn't help but want to see Kenny's expression at such a fight he start and won, by his own means.

He did catch a glimpse of Kenny after searching for a moment. Kenny's white longcoat, back turned to him and moving away from the crowd.

For some reason, Levi couldn't help but feel an unexpected and annoyind sting of disappointment. His heart missed a beat it wasn't supposed to. So he immediately fought it off with snort, a frown reflected on his bloody face instead. What did he expect, anyway? That Kenny would clap and compliment him?

Swallowing down his pride and accomplishment as fast as they had appeared, Levi looked down at the fat man, coughing up his own blood, and kicked him again just for the sake of it.

Some yells encouraged him to finish the pimp off, but Levi turned his back to all of them and left, holding the bloody knife in his hand. He didn't want to dirty the shirt or the jacket.

His face was sticky and disgusting from his own blood, his hair messy and damp from sweat, and slowly, the pain from the punch was returning to his senses. He found a sheet put out to dry and cleaned the knife in it, splashing his face with the water from a bucket nearby. The owner of both bucket and sheet soon appeared, a teenage girl that called him off with a shriek and demanded he paid for the water he ruined. Levi just promised he'd return it and went off his way, ignoring the rest of her yells.

Levi returned to the safehouse through an alternative route in order to avoid the young MP from earlier, but he should have guessed it'd be empty. The uncalled disappointment plunked him again, and he feared for an instant Kenny was disappointed in him. He brushed that thought immediately. Kenny was probably just drinking the damn beer he said he wanted.

Whether he would be pissed at him or not, it was a good fight, that he couldn't criticize. Levi would piss Kenny off later and shove his own words back at him.

"You got in a fight, eh, Levi?" The owner of Kenny's favorite pub asked when Levi entered, quickly surveying the tables and few occupants. Kenny wasn't among them.

"Kenny's been here already?"

"Haven't seen him." That annoying twitch might have been more visable than he realized, because the owner added: "Wait around, ya know how he is, he'll show up. Wanna a beer?"

Several people, Kenny included, often tried to get him drunk. They made bets to see who could beat the scrawny kid, beer mugs pilling up, and they kept losing. Levi had made quite the money that way. His resistance to alcohol was just way above normal, specially for his age.

Which could actually be a problem, apparently, because he wouldn't mind getting drunk for once.

"Wanna a beer, Levi?"

"Sure. Wanna start a contest?"

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to be continued

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Author's Notes: I don't think Kenny was abusive (physically, he certainly was psychologically abusive), he was neglecting. That 'shove' thing I mentioned in the beginning is something I remember watching guys do to each other frequently in my school days.

A friend sent me the song 'Fists Fall' by OTEP, unknowing that I was trying to write this. I had never heard it before and it became unexpectably appropriate and I'm thankful for it. I am not exagerating when I say I've listened to it over 100 times while writing this. (I'd recommend discretion listening/watching that videoclip btw).

Writing has become increasingly harder for me. Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated and please tell me if you find bad grammar.