Summary: It is the year 2158. Mikasa Ackerman is the most decorated Overwatcher in Tokyo Mega-City of all time. She is ruthless and unforgiving and her suspects fear her above all others. But when a familiar face turns up after five years; Mikasa is rocked to the core. How will she face the man who betrayed her and tried to kill her? How will she face him given the circumstances of his disappearance? And how will she deal with everything that happened between them all those years ago?
In the context of war, perfidy is a form of deception in which one side promises to act in good faith (such as by raising a flag of truce) with the intention of breaking that promise once the enemy is exposed.
CHAPTER 1
Mikasa pulled her scarf higher around her neck, warding off the bitter wind that drove its icy flurries down her spine. The city below her was a tumult of activity; she could barely discern a single stationary point amidst the cruisers, AGVs and ships that blurred through the skies. The city skyline stretched before her like a mountain range, huge skyscrapers and tower upon tower stretched into the heavens, blocking almost all of the light from the sky. The old skyscrapers and tower blocks on the ground, way below, were a relic, ruined and run down; they housed the lowliest of Tokyo's citizens, those who were unable to afford higher prices for higher living. From her vantage point above the city Mikasa could barely make out the lower city, hidden in the void hundreds of meters below the seemingly endless channels of sky traffic, freeways and mega structures that had been erected more recently.
She shivered as she continued to watch the traffic blur, pulling the sleeves of her jacket down to encase her frozen fingers. It was dusk and the temperature was dropping rapidly. That was one of the problems with the megacities – the temperatures soared to extremes, from increased heat during the summer months due to overcrowding and vehicle emissions, to plummeting temperatures in winter due to the lack of Sun that could make it through the structures. There weren't many citizens brave enough to feel the wind on their skin during winter in Tokyo.
And then something strange caught her eye. A vehicle in the skylane two below was driving erratically. Mikasa had always had an excellent eye for detail; it was part of why she had shone so well in her training as an Overwatcher. Quickly she swiped down the visor of her holo-comm, bringing it down over her grey eyes. The digital screen enhanced and magnified the scene in front of her as she watched.
Finally.
She smirked to herself as she took in the sight she'd been waiting for. Far below a citizen climbed across the top of a vehicle in the skylane. Another idiot trying to get himself killed, apparently. It would be bad enough to try something like that on a freeway up this high, but the skylanes were just channels in the void: nothing to catch you if you fell.
Kicking her bike into gear, she angled the handlebars of her bike down and disengaged the gravity sphere, relishing the familiar jerk behind her navel as she fell through the air, propelled groundwards towards the quickly moving traffic. As she approached the first skylane she engaged the engines, twisting the handlebars and turning the bike perfectly to squeeze through the gap between two fast moving AGVs as though she had practiced it, before resuming her balletic fall through the void.
The wind whipped through her dark hair and Mikasa dismissed the errant thought about how badly she needed a haircut as she engaged the grav sphere on her bike. At precisely the right moment she came to a standstill, hovering above the lane of fast moving traffic. The suspect vehicle could be seen a few cars ahead of her, the offender holding onto the roof in a low crouch and Mikasa spun the engines into high gear, throwing the blues on for good measure. From her closer vantage she could make out the dark robes of the hooded figure.
These extremists never learned.
Even without taking into consideration the guy's probable ties to Hanzuko, something like that could buy you six months in the slammer. Tokyo Correctional facility was nowhere you wanted to visit, located on the sublevel of the city in a dank and degraded cesspit where human beings were thrown in and locked away to rot.
As she pulled behind the vehicle she saw the figure turn glance in her direction. A silver mask covered his face and she grinned as she recognized the outfit: definitely a member of the Hanzuko Faction.
Just as expected.
She felt her blood begin to simmer and she growled to herself. Letting go of the handles, she drew her weapon and clicked the loudspeaker on her holo-comm.
"Citizen," her voice boomed across the expanse of vehicles as she aimed her weapon at the Hanzuko terrorist. "Stand perfectly still and prepare to be retrieved."
To her satisfaction she heard sirens in the distance and did not have to look to know that cruisers were descending from above to her assistance. Thankfully the suspect appeared to understand that the jig was up and he lowered himself to his knees, his hands raised.
"You got this one, Ackerman?" Jean's asked, his voice tinny in her ear.
"Affirmative, stand by."
She brought her bike closer, her pistol trained on the suspect. Pulling alongside the car, she peered through the cracked window at the terrified-looking driver, a middle-aged woman with three kids screaming in the back.
"Keep the vehicle steady, ma'am," Mikasa called. And then with a few touches on her bike's keypad she locked the two vehicles together, stepping with practiced ease from the saddle of her bike to the top of the cruiser. The suspect didn't move, just stared at her, his eyes dark behind the shining mask. She approached cautiously. When she neared him she drew the magnetic cuffs from her belt and stepped cautiously towards him.
Instantly the suspect attacked. Using her change of weight to his advantage, he kicked at the hand holding the gun, and although she was quick to discharge the weapon, the thrumming pulse of energy missed him and shot off into the void.
She heard Jean swear loudly in her ear, but she wasn't worried; this was so much more interesting. The terrorist went for her gun hand, twisting her wrist and drawing a grunt of pain from her as her fingers spasmed and the gun fell from her limp fingers. She punched him and dived for it as he staggered backwards, but it dropped over the edge of the cruiser and disappeared into the hazy void. Rolling to her back, she drew her other pistol, but the suspect stepped on her hand and kicked her in the jaw, splitting her lip in a spray of blood.
Pain lanced through her, but she didn't have time to waste feeling it. Bringing her legs up, Mikasa kicked him in the backside, destabilizing him and knocking him forwards, allowing her to roll from underneath him and reach for her weapon. Without hesitation she aimed her pistol and pulled the trigger, watching with detached amusement as the green pulse of energy hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards from the cruiser, and then he was falling, a tangled mess of limbs swirling downwards through the void.
There was nothing but the sound of the wind for a while.
"Damn," Jean muttered in her ear. She caught sight of him as he brought his cruiser level with her. "Thought he got the drop on you for a minute there."
"You forget…I've trained with better."
There was a tense silence and she silently cursed herself.
"Thanks for the assist," she said. "Can you follow up? I'm already overdue."
"Roger that," Jean said, long-suffering, as she swung herself back onto her bike.
Stepping into the shower, she groaned in satisfaction as hot water cascaded over her back. Most places you'd have to pay a pretty penny for a hot shower, but the Overwatchers HQ on the South Side of the city was home to very enviable amenities.
Tipping her head back, she let the water wash over her face and hair. Twelve hours on the job and she was ready for her rest shift. Life as an Overwatcher was tough: long shifts, dealing with scum and vermin on a regular basis, and very little remuneration for the efforts. It was seven years now that she'd been working as an Overwatcher.
Seven years, Jesus.
At the start she'd thought that she'd be able to rid the world of villains single-handedly. In a way that wasn't entirely untrue. Mikasa barely had to work with her temporary partner Jean, preferring to handle things alone. Jean was only a temporary partner; none of the others that Mikasa was assigned to could stomach working with her for too long. Too aggressive, too ruthless; Mikasa might be the best that the Overwatchers of Tokyo had to offer, but that didn't make her particularly easy to get along with.
It hadn't always been that way.
She dropped her head, leaning her hands against the dirty grey tiles with a sigh. She didn't know why but she just couldn't put the memories out of her mind today. It was over five years but she could still picture the image of his face as he stood in front of her. His emerald eyes burning intensely, his weapon raised. She shuddered, a wave of gooseflesh rising over her skin.
She'd had a permanent partner for her first two years after training. She'd passed the training with flying colours. Along with… her two best friends. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotion.
The bathroom door banged open and she straightened, slipping the familiar mask of neutrality back into place and continuing to wash her hair, using the shampoo dispenser in the wall as another Overwatcher entered the stalls.
"Oh… hey, Mikasa," Gorman hazarded. Like so many of her peers, the young agent was afraid of Mikasa.
"Gorman," Mikasa replied evenly as she rinsed the soapy lather from her scalp.
Washing quickly, she exited the stalls as fast as she could, preferring her own company, as usual.
"Catch you later then," Gorman stuttered as Mikasa, already dressed in her long jacket and combat boots, grabbed her bag and left.
Mikasa's apartment was small, but it was located mid-city above level 50 so she really couldn't complain. On her meagre wages it was surprising that she could even afford to rent this high up. But if it kept her out of the lower levels, she was happy. She stepped through the door and slung her bag on the table in the hallway as the automatic lighting clicked on with a steady hum.
Toeing her shoes off, she stalked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer from the door. For a moment she stared at the bottle as the moisture condensed against the cold glass. It had become a habit to grab a beer after work. When had that happened?
You know when.
She sighed, unscrewing the cap belligerently before chugging down the cold liquid. God, she couldn't get this stopped today.
She was hungry as well, but that could wait. Sleep was more pressing right now. She stripped off her clothing as she went, leaving a messy trail in her wake.
She crawled, naked, into the soft, comforting warmth of her bed and bit back a moan, twelve hours on the job catching up with her. Speaking of which, she reached down to her right forearm, pulling off the sticky yellow caffeine patch that she used to stay awake on long shifts. Throwing it somewhere in the vicinity of the bin, she let her eyelids drift shut.
At the sound of the door chime, Mikasa pulled the pillow over her eyes in frustration.
Go away!
The annoying chime played again and she sat up with a growl, pulling the duvet around herself like a toga. She shuffled through the apartment towards the door. Checking the peephole, Mikasa swore softly before throwing the door open.
"What do you want?" She asked, knowing what his answer would be.
"Oh, come on, Ackerman," said Jean, smirking. "Long time no see."
"Jean, I'm fucking tired."
"Me too." He pushed past her into the apartment and she scowled at the back of his head. "So let's sleep." He turned to face her and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Or we could do something else."
She and Jean… they had an arrangement. A mutually beneficial agreement, you might say. Well… to put it more bluntly, they fucked each other on the regular. It was meaningless, but it was a great stress reliever.
Shutting the door, Mikasa glared at Jean. He really picked his moments, but she couldn't deny that her body was thrumming with need. It had been nearly two weeks.
She dropped the duvet until she stood stark naked in front of him and his eyes roved over her naked body, hungrily.
He stepped towards her slowly and trailed a finger lazily up her torso, drawing an involuntary shudder from her. Flicking her nipple he stepped closer to her until she could feel his breath on her face. Curling a strong hand into the hair at the back of her neck he drew Mikasa towards him. Tipping her head back, he took her mouth harshly. There was no finesse to his kisses and she felt nothing, no tingle in her belly and no curl in her toes. But he pried her mouth open, deepening the kiss and she let him anyway. The sooner he fucked her the sooner she could sleep.
It never used to be like this.
Emerald green eyes appeared in her mind and she gasped. Mistaking the sound for one of pleasure, Jean pulled back, dipping his hand between her legs with a grin, stroking her sensitive flesh. She frowned. God, she'd taught him how to do this properly, why was he just so... crap?
Pushing him away, she led him to the bedroom. Better get this over with.
But all the while intense green eyes plagued her thoughts and she repressed a shiver as the ghosts of her past swarmed behind her eyes.
"Mikasa…."
"Ackerman." Connie's voice cut through her thoughts as she watched the waning sun cast deep shadows across the ever-moving city.
"Yep?" Mikasa responded, tearing her eyes away from the skyline.
This day had failed to produce anything interesting and she'd resorted to listening to the police scanner to pick up jobs. The Overwatchers existed primarily to fight and prevent terrorism in an ever-growing city. There were over 60 known terrorist organizations, the most dangerous and well known of which was Hanzuko, who, almost singlehandedly, ensured their on-going employment. The penalty for conspiring with Hanzuko was death and Mikasa made it her personal mission to annihilate every last one of them. The jurisdiction of the Overwatchers was absolute and Mikasa herself had a feasome reputation, so picking up the odd police job was not outside her remit, despite what the Captain would say.
It was scut work, really. A shootout in a liquor store earlier that day had had her down on level 47 and seen her blast the suspect into two pieces while the police looked on in horror and fascination. They'd all heard of her, obviously: the scarf-wearing Overwatcher with a nasty temper. She'd holstered her weapons and left the police to it pretty quickly, not wanting to hang around and answer questions about her work from an intrigued and admiring police force. She'd felt sorry for the cleanup crew who'd had to scrape up the bits of suspect that she'd coated the walls with. She'd then tried her hand with a robbery in the upper city around level 93. She'd spent an hour trailing around the rich and famous, but had failed to reveal a suspect and Mikasa suspected an insurance scam, given the value of the items supposedly stolen. She'd lost interest in that one pretty quickly without anyone to shoot and the locals weren't particularly fussed, especially when she'd found herself so surrounded by pompous scum that she'd felt her hands start to shake and she'd contemplated putting her fist through someone's throat.
"Captain's been in touch. There's a situation and he needs all senior agents streetside ASAP."
Mikasa felt a jolt of surprise run through her.
"Streetside?! All of us?"
"That's what he said."
"Shit."
What the hell did Levi want them all to go traipsing down into the depths of the city - to level 0 no less - for? There were police for that crap.
"Transferring you co-ordinates now," Connie said, levelly before clicking off the comm.
Mikasa ran a frustrated hand through her hair. This was bullshit and she was determined to tell Levi so next time she saw him. He might be the Captain of the Tokyo Overwatchers, but he was still her big brother and she could still kick his ass.
Angling her bike Mikasa prepared for the drop to Sub level. She should have taken the time to use the grav lift like everyone else. But what did she care? She was a fucking Overwatcher and nobody told her what to do.
Except Levi.
She smirked to herself. Levi tried his best.
It was over 2km downward and although she couldn't think of anything worse than visiting that fetid wasteland that was the city surface, the drop was the best thing about it. Kicking off the grav sphere she felt her body dropping and she almost yeahawed at the sensation, instead gritting her teeth into a feral grin as she angled the bike's nose downwards. She skimmed and swished through sky lanes, hearing the familiar jarring beep of a horn as she dropped past someone's windshield and the sound of an angry voice was lost to the wind as she plummeted down with a cackle.
60 seconds was all it took. She engaged her grav sphere slowly as the buildings around her became closer and more confined. The light down here barely penetrated and her headlights engaged 500m from the surface. Neon lights and signs appeared on the sides of the dirty and ancient looking buildings and she slowly took her bike down to the pavement. Rickety old cars chugged past depositing smoke and dust into the already smog ridden air. She turned her nose up in disgust; it stank of decay and mould down here.
Mikasa took a moment to check the address and the navigation pane in her visor lit up, the bright yellow arrows informing her that she needed to make a U-turn. It was only a couple of minutes away though.
Tyres squealing as she engaged the manual engine, Mikasa turned the bike around and sped off, weaving through the traffic. Everything down here was covered in a layer of thick grime and dirt and she unconsciously pulled her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth against the dense pollution.
As she arrived at the warehouse she noticed the huge number of Overwatcher vehicles present. She recognised Jean's cruiser and Connie's. There were a number of others and Mikasa was fairly certain that everyone was here. The sound of gunfire caught her attention and Mikasa reached for her weapon quickly, switching the locator on her holo-comm on and bringing up the positions of the nearby agents, their small yellow dots on her screen informing her that they were inside the building, below ground level. She set off into the building, her heart thudding in anticipation. She may have resented the need to come all the way down to the ground level for it, but she loved the thrill of the chase. There had to be some pretty decent action going on down here for the Captain to bring so many of their best agents down. Mikasa frowned pensively, wondering what was going on as she stepped into the gloomy, ramshackle old warehouse.
The building smelt of dust and cement and she wrapped the scarf tighter across her face, her body itching to get back above the mid city where the air was fresher. She turned a corner, her weapon trained and quickly dove back into cover as orange beams of light scattered the edge of the wall beside her into dust. She turned her head against the fragments of rock and dust that reined across her.
"Shit." She muttered, changing up the setting on her own pistol. These bastards were locked and loaded and she'd have to do better than 50% energy on her gun. She turned it up to 150%, ignoring the warning light and knowing that a single shot would destroy the opponent entirely and she grinned to herself as she felt a pause in the shooting ahead of her. Quick as a flash she rolled into the dingy hallway, her holo-comm locating the masked Hanzuko agent quickly and she brought her weapon up swiftly and opened fire, once …twice for good measure.
She watched with detached pleasure as the body exploded in an array of pink mist and she turned her face, feeling the splatter of blood on her cheeks.
"One down…" she murmured and stepped off quickly, her feet light on the tiled floor.
She came to a staircase; the wooden treads timeworn and rotting in places. With her pistol levelled she descended the ancient stairs. The sound of gunfire was louder down here and she cautiously checked her holo-comm for the location of the others. They seemed to be split into three groups. The first, in a large, open room below that looked like some kind of basement garage with regular pillars spaced throughout; the other two groups were pinned down either side and Mikasa chose the team that were closest, increasing the speed of her steps as she moved through the dimly lit corridors.
A rush of air surprised her as she turned a corner and she felt the cool sting of metal graze her cheek. Without questioning it her fingers closed over the trigger of her pistol and the masked agent before her vanished, leaving no more than a spray of blood and viscera on the walls.
Her cheek stung and she felt blood trickle down her face, dripping from her jaw lightly in time with the blood that fell from the walls in a steady rhythm.
Making off, she found the first team easily, without further engagement and she saw Jean's familiar head, hunkered down behind a stack of blue plastic crates and she dived to join him, laying down some suppressing fire as she ran.
"Status?" She barked at him, checking the energy supplies on her pistol and trading it out for her spare when she noticed it was running low. Using above 100% energy really drained these things.
"Pinned down. 7 on our 12."
She glanced across the corridor, she could make out Sasha' face twisted in a mask of pain as she hunkered down behind the stack of crates she was leaning against; her hand gripped her upper forearm and blood was gushing forth.
Behind Sasha, Reiner and Hitch were taking turns aiming shots at their attackers from around the crates.
"Take Sasha and the others and head back around and regroup with the other team on the west side of the building." Mikasa said quietly to Jean.
"What?! Are you outta your God-damned mind?"
"Just do it will, you? I've cleared the way back there so get your asses moving. I can handle myself and you know it."
His face flushed but his eyes wandered over to Sasha who leaned around the crates, her breathing laboured and her face flushed with sweat, as she opened fire.
"Fine. But don't get you fucking head blown off, ok? Captain would have my ass if anything happened to you!"
Mikasa just rolled her eyes and leapt out of cover, unleashing a torrent of fire as Jean's voice boomed across the hallway.
"RETREAT!"
She caught one Hanzuko agent in the side of the head as he ducked to take cover from her frenzied attack, sending fragments of skull and brain matter flying across the room. Behind her Jean and the others disappeared around the corner and she smiled to herself. Now she could really get some work done.
She crouched down into cover for a moment and listened as the six remaining Hanzuko agents stood, the red lasers of their weapons trailing cautiously across the floor next to her. They were unsure if she had retreated with the others or not and Mikasa wanted to keep it that way. She tightened her hand on her pistol and slowly as possible she drew the other gun from her thigh holster trying not to make a sound as their quiet footsteps drew closer.
When they were right upon her Mikasa spun, shooting two through the face and rolling to stand as a laser blast grazed the floor where she had been moments before. She twisted, bringing her pistols up and taking another agent in the stomach. His disintegration seemed to distract the other two, knocking them momentarily off balance with the force of the blast and she took that to her advantage, dropping to a crouch and laying multiple blasts into them.
There was a ringing silence broken only by the gentle drip of blood as it trickled lazily from the ceiling above. Mikasa was coated in it, and she vaguely noted that she must look like she'd stepped out of some kind of twisted horror movie.
There was one more agent left, going on Jean's intel and she ducked back behind the crates on her left, listening intently for some indication of the terrorist's position. There was no sound and Mikasa held her breath.
Could Jean have been wrong?
She mentally rewound, working through the kills.
Definitely six…
The soft skid of a boot on tile behind her sent her lunging from her position just as an orange blast shattered the tiles that had housed her figure moments before and she scrambled across the corridor, her heart pounding. Gaining her feet ungracefully Mikasa turned to take aim at her attacker, but he was quicker, his shot hitting her pistol and it fell from her hands as a surprised cry dropped from her lips.
Mikasa lunged before he could shoot her, no option but to fight for her life and she grabbed the nearest crate, flicking it and flinging it into the face of her attacker. He instinctively raised his arms to shield his face and she charged, hitting his body immediately after the plastic crate and sending them both spiralling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The Hanzuko agent's rifle clattered across the floor and she rolled bodily onto him. He was slight in build, no more than 50lbs and her weight was easily enough to pin him as her hands tightened around his throat.
His feet kicked and swivelled across the floor, his hips struggling desperately to buck her off. From beneath the mask a sickening gurgling noise spewed from his lips and she could imagine his eyes bulging beneath the mesh gauze that shielded them from her view. His hands clutched at her own, her arms, her face, his finger nails scratching and scrabbling to get purchase…desperately trying to pries her off.
Just die already.
Mikasa squeezed her fingers as tightly as she could, feeling the terrorist's movements weaken and she knew she had him. His struggling stuttered and his hand pushed listlessly against her chin finally before his body relaxed and with one…two violent twitches he lay still.
There was no sound but the noise of her own violent panting as Mikasa sat back on her heels, wiping the sweat from her brow. After e moment she eased herself to her feet and leaned down to collect her pistol, grabbing a pulse rifle for good measure and slinging the strap over her head before heading onwards down the corridor, leaving the blood-stained walls dripping behind in her wake.
Checking her holo-comm she noted that all of her teammates seemed to now be in the large basement-come-garage directly ahead and she was pleased that Jean and the others had managed to double back around without incident.
As the corridor opened up ahead into the large basement Mikasa noticed that it was filled with Overwatchers who stood around staring at something that was hidden behind one of the large pillar-like columns in the centre of the room. She couldn't see what they were looking at from her current position, but she spotted Levi talking quietly to someone and she made her way towards him. As she walked it became clear that what was focusing the other agents' attention was the figure of a man. He must have been pretty important to warrant all this attention-
She froze as she took in the outline of the individual. The man was kneeling and shackled, his arms wide, held by thick chains anchored to the nearby pillars, like a sacrificial virgin being offered to the gods. His head was lowered and his breathing laboured, his chest rising and falling heavily.
Mikasa suddenly had a desperate urge to look into his face. Her heart was beating a thunderous rhythm against the inside of her ribs and her breathing was shallow. She felt a cold sweat break out across her spine and she shuddered.
A hand gripped her shoulder and she tore her eyes away from the figure in the centre.
"Ackerman-"
"Who is that?" She asked her brother, shaking off the hand that tried to hold her in place.
Levi sighed and she felt her heart rate increase to a frenzied pace.
"Let's step outside a moment," he murmured. His eyes took in her blood-stained appearance with what could almost pass for concern. But she brushed past him, turning and striding towards the centre of the room.
There was a rushing in her ears and she was vaguely aware of a little voice repeating in her head ohshitohshitohshitohshit.
She was aware of hands trying to catch her and voices calling her name but she ducked and shrugged them off until she was standing before the kneeling man, staring down at him and feeling like she was standing on the edge of a great precipice. The air felt stale and bitter and she was suddenly very aware of the smell of blood and death that coursed off of her and invaded her nostrils, threatening to choke her. Mikasa clenched her shaking hands as she looked down at the top of the dark brown head. His hair was long, tied back in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck.
He must have noticed her combat boots standing in his eye line as his head began to rise agonisingly slowly and Mikasa held her breath, feeling like the world was suddenly moving in slow motion, each second lasting a lifetime. She wasn't sure what she wanted to see when his eyes met hers. But then she was looking into his face and steel grey eyes met emerald green and she felt like the wind had been punched right out of her in a shuddering wheeze.
He was drenched in sweat and there was a cut on his lip that was bleeding lightly, running a slight trail of blood down his ragged chin. He was lightly unshaven and he looked tired, dark circles ringing his bright green eyes… but it was unmistakably him.
She might have staggered, but she was barely aware. His eyes widened in a way that at any other time might have been comical and his mouth burst open in shock. She felt herself felt frozen to the spot in horror and disbelief. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't believe that he was here, that they had captured him, after all these years. She felt as though she was in a dream, her body unresponsive and her mind hazy as she gazed into the face of the Overwatchers' Number 1 Most Wanted.
"M-Mik-"
His voice broke the spell and before he could utter a single word her boot connected with his jaw and his head snapped back, his eyes rolling back into his head, before he pitched forward, his weight suspended on his shackles and was still.
She stared down at him for a moment, her lip curling in disgust and contempt before turning her back on him. Ahead of her, her colleagues watched on in a mixture of surprise, sympathy and understanding.
"Nice to see you again, Jaeger." She said coldly over her shoulder before she walked away, the crowd of Overwatchers parting silently as she passed.