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Eponine:

Eponine struggled to push her way through the growing crowds that had for some reason decided to clog the entire stretch of Biding. She had known it would be busy, the market place that had taken root along the lines of the road made sure of that, but she hadn't expected it to be so crowded. As she walked she stepped on the toe of a woman who shouted obscenities after her as Eponine gave her best attempt at slipping through the crowd. She hated feeling so boxed in, usually she could duck and dive or at least slink into the shadows. Not today.
Some kind of performance was taking place and seemed to be captivating everyone around her. People were stopped in the middle of the street, staring up at the actors who shouted across the crowd. She hadn't bothered to stop to hear their words. Instead she ducked her head down and focused on the job at hand.
She had spotted her target a few minutes ago and had been tailing him ever since. She could read the signs anywhere, shoes polished a little too recently, a hand stuffed into the pocket where no doubt a wallet or fine watch was sitting. It was a trick she had picked up from her father and although the thought of him left a bitter taste in her mouth she couldn't deny how useful the skills he'd imparted had been.
They used to walk down this same street and he would say to her, "Now look for the taps." She had been confused, wondering if some strange rhythm would be heard or if dancers were supposed to come out and perform. She had been confused right up until the moment she saw it. The small tap on the front pocket. The man they were watching had passed a group of boys, rags on bones who were begging for food, and as he'd passed he had made a movement, so quick and small that she'd have missed it if it hadn't of been for that tip off. His wrist flicked up to his chest and he had tapped the pocket there. "You see?" Her father had said in that rough voice of his. "Checking to see if something is there."
"What do you think is there?" She had asked, staring up, wide eyed at her father. Convinced that there was no one as clever as him.
"It doesn't matter, does it?" She'd nodded as if she'd understood. "Because whatever is there is clearly something worth protecting." He'd kept his eyes trained on the man in the suit making his way through the crowd. "And with these men, it's always worth a pretty penny." Eponine had smiled then, money had long been the drive of her family. It was what would buy them out of the Molins and into the Upper Class. It was all her father talked about, all he thought about and that seed had been deeply planted into the pit of Eponine's stomach.
Now she trained her eyes on the pocket that every few seconds the man would tap. His left trouser pocket, not the easiest but in a way, that helped her. Any reason for the target to get comfortable was welcome. If they felt safe, you could convince them they were right and they wouldn't realise they were wrong until you were well out of sight. She saw her moment and took it. The man had quickly dodged out of the way of a questionable puddle on the ground and Eponine had taken that moment to sidle up close so that he bumped into her. "Oh I'm terribly sorry." The man had said quickly, not looking at her.
"It's no problem." She said stepping in front of him so that he couldn't step forward. It was subtle but she could see his attention snapping up to her. "I don't suppose you'd be able to give me just a little-" The man quickly bristled and pushed her away so that she was pushed against his left side. "Oh but please! Have some compassion!" She pretended to plead, one hand clutching onto his arm so that he would focus on shaking her off, and not on the other hand that was slipping into his pocket. Finally he gave her arm an almighty shove and she pretended to be flung to the ground. He stomped away. She watched from the floor, her breath hitching just slightly as his hand patted his pocket. He walked on as if nothing had changed.
That was a trick Eponine had taught herself. If a person didn't know anything was wrong, they couldn't catch you. So while it is all well and good watching the tap, it was more satisfying watching the target tap the empty wallet you had returned to its rightful place. Once the man was out of sight Eponine looked down at the handful of coins. She shrugged. It would do for now.
Once again she turned her attention to the crowd and wondered if the throng would thin when she got past the stage. They really were making an awful lot of noise for a group that small. A woman beside her shouted to the men on the stage, repeating the words they were repeating. "A la revolution!" Eponine frowned, wondering what kind of play this was. Was she an actor, planted in the crowd? Two men Eponine recognised from the strip stood in front of her, completely blocking her way so she finally resigned herself to the entertainment.
The main actor was quite striking, she had to admit. A shot of blonde hair that reminded Eponine of a young boy's, the tight curls creating a halo round his head. She half wondered if it was a wig. The clean, navy jacket he wore seemed fine, the tailcoats touching the back of his knees. He had paired this with a red waistcoat which seemed a little ridiculous but, Eponine supposed, for the theatre it wasn't too garish. His voice was rather enchanting. Although he was shouting his voice didn't seem rough, instead it seemed to be picked up by the wind and glide over the crowds' heads. "Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains. We see these chains every day, the taxes taking our money but exempting those who do not need it! We see these chains on those who cannot afford to eat, the chains are the streets upon which men who are born free sleep!"
Eponine looked around and suddenly it dawned on her. The hard faces on the people around her, the way some women's eyes were filling with tears, the way others shifted glances nervously around them. It was no play. It was a protest. Dread filled her body like a pit, she had seen protests before and had walked through the streets strewn with bodies in the aftermath. She shouldn't be here. The boy's words were pretty but they were dangerous.
"Silence is the image of death-and we see too much death around us. So we shall be silent no longer!" The boy raised his fist and suddenly a roar from the crowd erupted. The men in front of her were shouting at the top of their lungs, a guttural sound coming from every throat around her. And then she heard the shot. And madness descended.
A few people screamed and as another shot rang out Eponine ducked, quickly standing up to see where the shot came from. Five policemen stood on the outskirts of the protest, surrounding the crowd from all angles and now they shot into the crowd. Eponine cringed as she saw a woman go down, blood spurting from the wound in her stomach. She dropped to the ground and suddenly the man who had been standing next to her had launched himself at the policeman, fists flying into his stomach and face. The officer had been caught off guard and went down quickly. The man grabbed his gun and suddenly the Officer's face had been replaced by a gaping wound. His face caved into the pavement and Eponine wasted no more time after that. She ducked down and used the other fleeing people as cover to make it through the crowd. An alleyway was a few metres to her right and she knew that once she made it there she would be safe.
A wave of people had stormed the stage, fists raised and screaming some kind of feeble battle cry. Eponine watched with bitterness as the boys that had started this mess moved to run away. The blonde boy looked panicked, he had nowhere to hide and she hoped he knew that those guns would soon be pointed at him. Fear etched all over his face and he finally looked his age. Your pretty words won't help you now, she thought. Too many people were crowding onto the stage, men pushed each other and a few stragglers could be seen falling off of the side and into the crowd. Eponine was able to make it a few feet further in the direction she needed as space found its way to her. And then she saw him fall. The blonde boy had been shoved off the stage by the crowd and was now lying in a heap on the floor as people trampled over him. Eponine was near the stage having thought the crowd would provide good cover. Better for someone else to get shot then her. But suddenly she was torn, the boy had seemed so fearless onstage, his words igniting a passion even inside Eponine. And now, well he could have been one of the boy beggars on the street. He would die here at the hand of the officers, his pretty ideas dying with him.

A battle raged in her mind. On one side was her instinct to run, run and hide and leave this place. She hadn't even been part of the protest to begin with and she shouldn't die for a cause she didn't believe in. But then there was the other side. The side that made her dash through the crowd, hook her arms under the large shoulders and drag the boy out from under the feet of the crowd. He was heavy, too heavy for her to carry but he was out cold. She sighed, already cursing her decision as she pulled him through the crowd. She pulled him past two more bodies, an old woman with a wound in her right shoulder and a man who she assumed had once had a neck. Now he was just a head separated from shoulders. As they made their way through the crowd Eponine thought she could see the old woman's lips moving, forming a silent cry for help.
Tearing her eyes away and focusing on the alleyway a few feet from them Eponine dragged the boy. His feet caught on the cobblestones but no one gave her any notice. The police were rounding up anyone they could keep hold of. The unlucky ones had been roped up with two officers standing as security, their guns promsing to bring anyone down that attempted a jailbreak. The other officers picked their way through the crowd, trying to grab anyone they could and shooting anyone that made too much trouble. Their guns were trained on the stage which was thankfully behind Eponine now. She grunted with the weight of the boy, sweat building on her forehead and hands making her grip weaker. Her arms screamed with exertion but now she had the alley in her sights. As soon as she could she flung the boy to the floor and rested her arms as she sank down the dirty wall to the equally dirty floor. Her breath was laboured and she glared at the unconscious boy who lay on the floor, his face squished against the cobblestones. She could only rest for a moment though, they need to get as far away from the square as they could. But this time she hooked the boy over her shoulders, dispersing the weight more equally allowing her to keep walking.

Eponine was confident in her knowledge of the streets but the events had made her weary and her legs were nearly buckling with exhaustion as the sun came into the middle of the sky. She was unsure where they were but thought they were far enough way to be safe. She sank to the floor, arranged the boy into a passable sleeping position, and closed her eyes.