"Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty."
-David Mitchell
The alarm bells rang shrilly at 6am, piercing through the silence of the dorms. Jean blinked a few times before sitting up. He sat up too soon, and whacked his head off of the ceiling.
The dorms were almost identical to the sleeping quarters they'd had when he worked for Nile Dawk; a single large room, stuffed with narrow bunk beds, and a curtain to separate the men from the women.
Jean was on the third bunk. He had forgotten how close he was to the damn ceiling.
Cursing, he ran his hand through his hair before sliding off the top bunk and onto the floor. He got dressed quickly, and washed quickly too. Because he was one of the personal servants to the direct family members, he had to be ready very quickly. It had its advantages; mainly getting the priority to the washrooms over those who weren't needed immediately.
By six fifteen, he was standing outside Marco Bodt's room. Petra's instructions ran through his head; wake him up, open the curtains, tell the kitchen maid's what he wants for breakfast, bring it up to him, do anything else he asks.
He slid into the room, which was still dark. There were heavy red curtains drawn across the huge windows, which completely blocked out all of the light. He crept over to the bed, where Marco lay on his stomach, sleeping peacefully.
Jean scowled at him.
He reached out, gently shaking his non-metal shoulder. "Sir," he called. Dickhead. "Sir, it's time to wake up." Jean sighed, shaking his shoulder more insistently while Marco mumbled something in his sleep. "For fuck's sake – wake up!"
Slowly, his one visible eye opened, blinking slowly. Marco stifled a yawn, slowly sitting up in the bed. Jean backed away. The older stretched upwards, before looking blearily at Jean. "Oh. Good morning," he greeted with a sleepy half-smile.
Jean couldn't stop looking at his bare chest; more specifically, the place where the metal ran into smooth skin. It was strange, almost scary. There was no scarring or puckering of the flesh whatsoever; it looked completely natural, as if he was born with a metal arm, but he wasn't. He had been made this way. It was as creepy as hell.
"Good morning, uh, sir," Jean said, in his best "polite" voice. He went over to the largest window, pulling open the curtains and mumbling a curse. The room faced east, so at this time of the morning the sun was rising. It temporarily blinded him, especially after the darkness of the room, but after a moment, he was able to look outside properly.
Jean didn't like Caelum very much, but this was…amazing, really. The sun was just beginning to peek through the buildings, its rays streaked through the skyscrapers and reflecting off the glass, painting the city like pink and orange war paint. It really was something else. Jean muttered a curse under his breath; living in Terra, you didn't see many sunrises.
Marco's eyes didn't need adjusting to the sudden change in light. Jean suddenly remembered his presence, and his job. "Oh, uh…what d'you want for breakfast?" It wasn't a good way to ask it; he could have been twenty times politer, but Marco didn't seem to notice or care.
"Just tell the maids some fruit and bread will do nicely. Oh, and a pot of coffee. They know how I like it."
Jean nodded, rolling his eyes when he turned his back. He left the bedroom once more, quickly headed for the kitchens. Ten minutes later, he was back in Marco's room, this time with a tray filled high. Marco had only asked for fruit and bread, yet this tray of food had food better than anything Jean had ever eaten. Freshly baked bread, still warm from the ovens, a large bowl piled high with different fruit – some of which Jean didn't even know the name of – and a steaming pot of coffee. This meal alone more than Jean ate in a day.
Really, with a class divide like this, how could the Unenhanced not resent the Enhanced?
He nudged the door open with his shoulder, crossing into the room. Marco was wrapped in a dressing gown, sitting down at the table facing his window, flicking through the pages of one of his school textbooks. Jean placed the tray in front of him. He glanced at the book, but could barely understand half of the words in it.
"Thanks. Oh – and I think I'll have a bath this morning. Run one for me please – not too hot, but warm. After that could you pick up my laundry from downstairs?"
Marco's bathroom was roughly about the same size as Jean's apartment. He couldn't help but feel envious, running the water in a bath twice the size of his shitty-ass couch. He left soon enough, taking Marco's breakfast tray away (he noticed, barely half of it was eaten. Lucky bastard).
When he gave it to the kitchen staff, he was horrified to see the remaining food thrown down the rubbish chute. "What – why?" he questioned the maid. She gave a shrug, looking at the chute in discontent. "The Enhanced only eat the freshest food," she said. "Nobody would eat leftovers; once he left it behind, it was rubbish. And the Unenhanced aren't allowed eat Enhanced food, not even the leftovers."
Jean was growing more and more frustrated.
Maybe because he was younger, but when he worked for Nile Dawk he hadn't noticed as much. Sure, Dawk was probably wealthier than the Bodts', but he hadn't noticed how wasteful the Enhanced were, he hadn't noticed how much they took for granted.
He was Marco's personal caretaker until seven thirty, until he went to school. Breakfast was at eight, a small bowl of unappetizing gruel which he shoveled down before getting to work. The bedroom wasn't even that dirty, but Jean ended up cleaning it from top to bottom, before going back to Petra. Petra easily gave him a list of jobs to occupy himself with, and he didn't have a moment to spare until Marco came home.
Marco was the type of guy who kept to a pretty regular routine. He would come home, send Jean to the kitchens to get him something to eat, and then begin his studies. Occasionally his cousin – Ymir, or something? Jean was bad with names – would come in, and they would talk and mess around. He usually ate dinner alone in his bedroom, but occasionally there would be a family dinner in the posh dining room. He sometimes went out in the evenings, to various friends' houses, or his friends would come over. On weekends, he had training. Either way, Jean would have to follow him around. In fact, from the moment he came home from school, Jean had to stick by his side until he went to sleep.
It was boring and repetitive but…manageable.
It was much better than working for Nile Dawk, in any case.
Marco was nicer than most Enhanced were, without being too nice. Jean doubted he had a foul bone in his body, he doubted he could hate the Unenhanced like his father. He was always courteous enough – greeted Jean, said please and thanks, and phrased his orders like he was asking Jean to do something, rather than telling him to.
Still, he couldn't help but remember the fact that he had killed the Unenhanced woman who once had Jean's position.
Marco had given up on studying, and was sprawled over his desk, on top of his books. "I'm bored," he muttered, slowly sitting up. He poked reluctantly at a textbook with a metal finger. "Have you ever studied physics, Jean?"
"No, sir." Jean gritted his teeth. Who did he think he was? Unenhanced education wasn't exactly great.
"Lucky. It's such a pain in the ass. And you can drop the "sir" – it's weird. You're like, my age, you shouldn't be calling me sir." Marco made a face.
Jean did his best not to glare. Was he seriously bemoaning the fact that, Sina forbid, he got an education? Privileged asshole. "I don't think that would be very appropriate, sir."
Marco gave a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. You're right." He was silent for a moment, but seemed to pick up on the bad vibes radiating from Jean. "That was probably a dumb comment, right? I've heard education in Terra isn't as good as it is up here."
Jean couldn't help it – he snorted. Marco looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
"Uhh," Jean began. "You're right. Sir. Education in Terra is…rare. Practically nonexistent."
Marco's brow furrowed. "What? I mean, you're younger than me, technically you should still be in school."
Jean gave a small shrug. "I never went."
The thought seemed to mystify Marco. "What? You never went to school?"
"There aren't really…schools in Terra, sir. I mean, there are a few people who will try to teach, but…" they're taken away by the Enhanced, can't have us getting too smart. "It doesn't really last long."
"So you've no education?"
"Well…I wouldn't say that, exactly, sir. My mother taught me, see. Not a whole lot, but I can read okay and write alright and do a little math, too."
Marco frowned, leaning back in his chair. "I never knew there were no schools in Terra, though," he said, more to himself than to Jean. "This is something we should know, right? Like, I always presumed you still had schools and stuff, just not as good as up here."
Jean said nothing, afraid he would say something awful back. Sorry, bro, but we're not like up here. You can prance around with your stupid physics and philosophy and history but not everyone has that, not everyone has that right.
Marco looked thoughtful. Jean's gaze fell onto his books. Marco was the son of the head of security, right? He would surely be taking over his position shortly after he left school. Then why did he need to spend so much time studying?
Jean should shut up. He should let the conversation die, and resume his role as a (somewhat) respectful servant. But his curiosity got the better of him; Jean had never been good at obeying the rules. "If you don't mind me asking, sir…" he began. Marco looked at him again, and he could see his good eye widen in surprise. "If you're going to take over from your father, why do you need to do all of this…studying?"
Marco gave him a small smile. "Exams. And I mean – they're not that important but…basically I'm not guaranteed my father's position. It's overwhelmingly likely, but not definite. And if I do terribly in these exams…I mean, the people aren't going to want someone completely incompetent taking over as the head of security. It's a safety net, I suppose."
Jean just gave a nod. It was so strange – Marco had spent his life going to school, and learning. He never had to work as a child, to try and make sure his family had enough to eat. Jean doubted he had ever been in a dangerous situation in his life, before the riot, at least. He would probably throw up at the thought of a revolution. His biggest worry was probably these dumb exams that he didn't really need to pass so he could start working for his father. He didn't need to worry about random acts of cruelty, or how to care for a sick sibling.
Jean was ridiculously envious.
It was…slow.
Incredibly slow.
But Jean's opinion of Marco slowly began to change.
Every Enhanced person Jean had ever met in his life had treated him like scum. They had treated him like he was something under their shoe, only fit to be stepped on. And the truth was, that if you were told you were scum often enough, a part of you began to believe it.
Even here, in this household; if he ran into any of the other Enhanced here, they treated him the exact same way. From Marco's friends to his family; they all avoided looking at him, and when they occasionally did, they gave him the look. The look was something it seemed all Enhanced had mastered; a way of looking coldly, suspiciously at the Unenhanced. Even if it was only a glance they gave him, it never failed to remind Jean of his place.
Marco…wasn't really like that.
He wasn't exactly…good. There were some Enhanced that didn't hate the Unenhanced as much as most, who actually tried to campaign for their rights. Marco was far from being like that. And, he had done some pretty inexcusable things. He had stood by while his friends had picked on Odette. He had let his friends take advantage of a sick girl, let them torture her for their amusement. And he had murdered an Unenhanced woman, for no apparent reason. Jean didn't think he would ever be able to forgive anyone for that.
But he was…pleasant to deal with. Far kinder than Nile Dawk, anyway. All in all, serving Marco Bodt wasn't that bad – Jean reckoned it would have been worse with most other people his age, and for that he was thankful.
Marco wasn't even that strict with him. Yes, he had expectations, yes he had things he needed done and fully expected Jean to carry out those tasks, but he didn't have a stick up his ass, like most of them did. If Jean forgot a "sir," or if he forgot his place momentarily and made a smart comment, he wouldn't be punished. Rather, if he made a comment on something, even if it was at Marco's expense, he seemed to laugh rather than be pissed off. In general, although he still watched his tongue and behavior, Jean was a lot more relaxed than he had expected to be.
Were most Enhanced like this? Jean sincerely doubted it. After all; on his first day working for Nile Dawk he had forgotten to call him "sir," once. He had been whipped for a tiny slip up. Still had the scars crisscrossing on his back. Jean grimaced at the thought.
Another thing about Marco was that he had this…curiosity. Maybe it was because his previous maid was a much older woman – maybe with a boy only slightly younger than him he felt more comfortable asking questions. Because ask questions he did. The Enhanced seemed to know surprisingly little about the Unenhanced and Terra. Marco didn't know much, at the very least. Jean could imagine the type of propaganda that was released about the Unenhanced.
First, he had been surprised about their lack of an education system. Then, he began asking questions about work done there, and living conditions. Jean had been suspicious at first, and had asked why he wanted to know. Marco had shrugged, saying that he wanted to be head of security someday. That wasn't just security for the Enhanced. He had said he wanted to try and work for the Unenhanced as well. Jean had scoffed, but answered all of his questions anyway. After all, he had to speak when spoken to.
They ended up speaking more than was strictly appropriate, but Marco hardly seemed to care. Jean did, though; he needed to be careful. He only ever spoke to Marco when it was just the two of them, and he always had his guard up. Although Marco could relax around Jean, Jean could never, ever let himself relax around him. One tiny slip up could cross the line. One tiny slip up could convince Marco's father he wasn't suited for the job. One tiny slip up overheard by an Enhanced could end up badly for him, if they thought he was overstepping his boundaries.
He answered Marco's questions, yes; quietly, when he was certain they were alone. When anyone else was nearby, he hardly even looked at him.
In fairness to the older boy, he seemed to know when he was asking too much.
The only major occurrence of Marco asking Jean something he didn't want to answer, was on Saturday evening, after Marco's training. He had asked Jean about where he had worked beforehand.
"With Mr. Dawk, right? That's what I heard from my father."
Jean had nodded. "Yes, sir. I used to work for Mr. Dawk, a few years back."
Marco gave him a sidelong glance. "I've only met him a few times, but he's…very intimidating. That's an understatement; I'm terrified of him, and I'm the son of the head of security! I can't imagine what it would have been like to work for him."
Jean suppressed a shudder. "It's…" he had to be careful about what he said – he couldn't exactly go around badmouthing someone important in the Military Police. "Definitely nicer here."
Marco's lip curled upward in a small smile. "I figured. What was…he like?"
Jean swallowed tightly, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. "He was…a little trigger happy with his whips."
Marco tilted his head, looking vaguely put-off by the thought. "Whips? Why would he use whips? I thought most just used their dials to punish disobedience."
His casual tone irritated Jean. "Usually," he admitted. "But dials don't leave scars. Mr. Dawk had a fondness for making sure his…handiwork left a reminder."
Marco almost seemed confused. "Scars?"
Jean nodded, slightly unsure of himself. They were alone in Marco's room, but he strained his ear, trying to listen for any footsteps. It wouldn't do well to have him caught badmouthing Nile Dawk. "Yeah. Scars. I still have mine," he muttered.
Marco's eye lit up. "Scars! I totally forgot that the Unenhanced scarred," he said. Oh yeah – Jean had forgotten that the Enhanced rarely had scars. Any scar they had was usually removed surgically. Not for the Unenhanced, though. "Could you show me?" he continued, excitedly. "Your scars, I mean."
Jean froze. No, he wanted to reply. No, fuck off. Marco probably didn't have any scars, and wouldn't understand. These were…personal, almost. Not something he wanted some naïve Enhanced brat to be gawking at. But could he really say no to him? His mouth was dry.
Marco seemed to pick up on the tension that he suddenly showed. Eye widening slightly, he shook his head. "No. Wait. I probably went a little too far there, right?"
"Right, sir."
He chuckled awkwardly. "My bad."
Jean didn't say anything. Marco was silent for a while, thumbing through the pages of a book. "Y'know Jean," he said after a moment. "It's a pity you aren't Enhanced. If you were, I'm sure we could have been friends."
Jean said nothing.
Petra sighed, running her hand through her hair. "He's having friends over?"
Jean nodded, leaning against the wall. "Yeah. A study session, apparently."
"How many?"
"He said there'd be about eight of them there. Told me to tell you because they'll be wanting snacks and refreshments and shit like that."
Petra sighed. "This is the last thing I need," she muttered. "As if I wasn't busy enough!"
Jean frowned, sensing there was a little more to this. "You seemed more stressed out than usual," he commented carefully. "Is there something wrong with his friends?"
Petra mimicked his stance, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. She glanced around, but of course, they were alone. Besides, they didn't have to worry about anyone Enhanced overhearing them; none would bother coming down to the Unenhanced quarters.
"There's nothing wrong with them," Petra said. "They're just…Enhanced."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Well, he's not going to be pally with the Unenhanced, so-"
Petra shook her head, waving a hand to shut Jean up. "You probably know Jean, that…well. Marco isn't exactly the nicest towards the Unenhanced, but he's better than most."
Jean nodded. "Nicer than Nile Dawk, anyway," he said darkly.
She nodded in agreement. "The thing is that usually, you have two types of Enhanced. There are the ones who completely ignore you, and act as if you don't exist."
Jean snorted. "Ymir."
"Well – yeah. But they're not that bad, because if they're ignoring you, they're not treating you badly. The other type of Enhanced people are the ones who mess with you for fun. Anything from badmouthing you, to-"
"Whipping you? Using their dials? Murdering you when you've done nothing wrong?"
Petra gave Jean a look. "Marco is neither."
"Apart from, y'know, murdering his previous servant."
"Jean!"
"What was with that anyway?"
Petra gave Jean a withering look. "No one knows. Marco is polite to everyone, including his servants. He has never laid a hand on any of us before. And then one day, Mr. Bodt called him and his old maid into his office, and she never walked out again. I don't know why it happened, but it's best to forget about it."
"Forget about it?" Jean asked, eyebrows rising. "How am I supposed to just forget about it? If you hadn't noticed, if it happens again I'm gonna be the one killed!"
"Lower your voice!" Petra hissed. They both were silent for a moment. "He's polite, though, yeah?"
"A fuckin' saint," Jean grunted. "Has manners, asks me how my day was when he gets home, asks me how my sisters doing – he's polite. But he's polite to everyone, yeah?"
"Exactly. It doesn't seem like him to take anything out on the staff, right?"
Jean tilted his head for a moment, thinking about the night of the riot. He could remember it all too well; clutching Odette as her body kept twitching, having his back to those boys, still recovering from the last shock, as they called for Marco to go on, use his dial. He remembered all too well the sick feeling as he waited for the next shock to come. Marco hadn't used his dial that night, despite being perfectly able to, despite his friends egging him on.
"No, he doesn't," he admitted slowly. "Still."
Petra shook her head slowly. "I've gone way off topic. My original point is, Jean, that you don't have that much experience with Enhanced teenagers. Most of them have only recently gotten the hang of their Enhancements, and they're a little drunk on their own power. They're always itching for an excuse to use them."
Jean frowned, his brow creasing. "What, they'd even use it on the staff in someone else's house?"
"It's not uncommon," Petra said wearily. "We're nothing but scum, and there are usually a lot of people scrambling to replace us. If an Unenhanced died up here, it would barely even be an inconvenience." Petra paused, tilting her head to look at Jean. "You'll need to stay up there with them. Just, be careful okay? Some of those boys he's friends with, they're a bad influence. I'm sure you heard about that riot recently, right? They started that up."
Jean's hands clenched into fists. "Yeah, I've heard of it," he said bitterly. "It was my damn sister they used to test their dials."
Petra's face went slack. "That was you?" she hissed, shaking her head. "Okay Jean, it's best if we keep that between us, alright?"
Jean nodded. He slowly unclenched his fists.
Someone called Petra from the busy kitchen. "I've to go," she said, beginning to walk away. "Just – watch yourself, Kirschtein. Don't give them a reason to hurt you."
They were in one of the countless rooms in the house. Jean really didn't understand why they needed so many damn rooms when there were only four, sometimes five living there. He hadn't even been in half of them, and he still sometimes got lost navigating his way through the corridors.
This one was small, for an Enhanced house, which meant that Marco and his friends would consider it small, while in reality it would house Jean's entire apartment comfortably, more than once. It was a cozy room, filled with comfortable couches and armchairs and a huge bookcase and a massive TV. Sometimes Marco hung out with friends here.
Today though, he was determined to actually get some work done, or so he told Jean.
"We have exams in a few weeks, and we need to pass," he explained, spreading his textbooks on one of the tables. Jean didn't bother responding – what would he say? You don't need to pass because even if you don't fucking show up you're gonna be living in this wealth? No. "And some of my friends…they won't study unless there's someone there to make them."
"That sounds vaguely threatening," Jean muttered.
Marco laughed.
"Shit," he muttered after a moment. "I left my math book upstairs, will you-"
"On it," Jean said, leaving the room. It took him a minute to remember which damn way it was to Marco's bedroom, but he got there eventually. There were some books on his desk, but none of them were math. No math book on his shelves either. He must have made a mistake, Jean concluded. Either that or his eyesight was giving out.
He looked around the room again. No matter how many times he was in here, no matter how many times he had cleaned it from top to bottom; he would never get over the sheer wealth in this place. The bed was worth more than his entire apartment. Hell, the bed was probably worth more than he was.
He stood, glancing around, but of course; he was alone. Jean walked over, turned his back, and flopped down on the bed. It was incredibly soft and comfortable; so much nicer than the hard floor or hard bunks he was used to. The sheets and pillows were silky smooth, and the blankets were so soft and warm…for a moment, Jean imagined what it would be like to sleep in a bed like that every night. He spread his arms out, sighing.
A soft chuckle made him jump out of his skin.
Marco stood at the door, leaning on the doorframe. Jean jumped off of the bed hastily, embarrassment turning his cheeks red. "S-sorry, sir! I, uh, I-"
Marco laughed again. "It's alright," he said, a good natured smile on his face. "In case you're wondering, I found my math book."
Still with burning cheeks, Jean nodded.
(He couldn't help but notice; Marco brushed something like that off easily with a smile and a laugh. He doubted other Enhanced would do that."
He followed Marco through the house, back to the den. At one point they passed Ymir, Marco's intimidating cousin. Marco had invited her to join him and his friends. Ymir had asked if a Historia was going. When Marco said no, she scoffed and walked away.
Marco's friends came soon enough, all followed by a different Unenhanced servant. They bounded into the room, most of them beaming and full of energy and reluctant to study. Turned out, that more came than he had been expecting.
Including the two bastards who had used their dials on Odette.
His hands clenched into fists, and the anger was back, creeping through his bloodstream like poison. Here they were, greeting Marco with smiles, messing with the other Enhanced teenagers, laughing. They would have been murderers, and if they had killed her? They wouldn't care. Just like how they wouldn't care about how Jean was here, working his ass off so she might survive.
For a brief moment, thoughts of flying at them and pounding their dumb faces in crossed his mind. He pushed them out; as tempting as they were, Jean stood no chance of getting near them in a room full of Enhanced teenagers.
The other Unenhanced servants stood at the walls, heads bent. They didn't look at him, or each other, and Jean was itching to try and communicate with him. Right across from him stood a girl with red hair. He tried to make eye contact with her, but her gaze never left the ground.
A good Unenhanced servant lived to serve. They knew their place, they knew they were vermin. They never spoke to anyone unless asked a question. They controlled their feelings, hiding them behind unreadable masks. Those were the rules of being Unenhanced.
Jean had never been good at following rules. He could never just turn his emotions off, like a machine. But now, he was remembering the anger, how furious he was – he thought of Eren, directing all that fury and hate into Survey in an attempt to exact revenge – and Jean looked down.
He tried to smother his emotions. Don't show anything. Forget they're here. They're untouchable – all of them.
He didn't notice the slightly worried glance Marco sent him. He focused on hoping that those two boys wouldn't recognize him.
Eventually, they all quietened down and began to work; the only noises were the turning of pages and scribbling of notes. That was, until, an hour later, one of the girls – a brunette with long hair tied in a ponytail, shut her book. "I can't do this anymore," she said with a yawn. "I'm starving."
"Yeah," said the boy beside her, a small guy with a buzz cut. "Let's take a break." Murmurs of agreement spread through the group, and the first girl turned around, hanging over the back of the couch. "Oi," she called, clicking her fingers to get Jean's attention. "You. Go down to the kitchens, tell them Sasha's here. I've been here enough times for them to know what I want."
Jean gave a nod, and was about to turn when –
"Hoooooly shit, wait a second. Turn around."
The voice was too familiar.
"Nack…" he heard Marco say in a warning tone. Jean took a deep breath, slowly turning around.
The two boys from the night of the riot sat together on one of the couches, gawking at him. "Holy shit, Thomas," said the first voice, Nack, presumably. "It's him."
"Who?" asked one of the others, a blond kid only looking up from his book now.
"You're the one from back then," Thomas said. "The night of the riot."
Jean felt his mouth go dry. Thomas stood up, walking towards him. Marco sighed heavily. "Thomas. Leave him alone."
Thomas stopped when he was right in front of Jean, barely a foot away. Jean forced himself to keep looking down, even when he waved a hand in front of his face. "Hm," he said, sounding peeved. "You're so quiet now – you certainly weren't quiet back then."
Jean said nothing. He forced himself to think of Odette, and not how much he wanted to smash Thomas's nose in right now. Or about how much he wanted to run. The fear was coiling in his stomach, and he hated to admit it. He was so distracted he didn't hear what Nack said back.
The tension in the room was rising. Out of his peripheral vision he could see that red headed servant looking at him. "Wait," Sasha interrupted. "He's the guy who was with that girl? Why the hell is he working here?"
"Because we hired him," Marco said dryly. "And he's worked well so far, so I'd appreciate if you could just let him do his damn job."
The fact that Marco was…standing up for him made his mind reel.
"We're just having a little fun," Nack said.
"Yeah, the same fun that started a riot."
"Whatever," muttered Thomas, before going back to studying Jean. Jean could feel his heart rate speed up. "So, did she live? Who was that bitch you cared about so much? D'you fuck her or someth-"
"She's my sister," Jean had hissed, looking up and glaring at Thomas. It was only in the stunned silence that followed that he realized what he had done.
Thomas looked surprised, to say the least. He watched his eyes narrow, and next thing he had pulled his hand back before striking it across Jean's face, hard. Jean let out a small cry, stumbling back. "Don't you know your place, scum?" Thomas hissed.
"Thomas!" Marco yelled, anger in his voice for the first time since Jean had known him.
Thomas looked furious. "How dare you speak back to me, how dare you speak to your superiors like that, Unenhanced scum."
"Stop. Now." Marco stood up.
He punctuated the last word with another strike, this one hitting Jean in the jaw. He grunted, wanting nothing more than to run, but that would probably make everything worse. "I bet that's easier to take than the dial though, right?"
His smile was like a shark's, and Jean's eyes widened as his hand flew to his dial.
But someone caught his wrist; it was that girl, Sasha. One minute she had been across the room, but now she was here, and the goofy personality had dropped completely. "Thomas," she said, her voice light. "Marco told you to stop, and this is his house! So you can either stop, or get out."
Thomas looked from her, to Marco, to Jean. Eventually he pulled out of her grasp, moving to sit back down again.
"You can go get me my snack now," she said, turning to Jean.
Jean nodded and left the room, but he didn't move after that. He pressed his back against the closed door, straining his ear. His hands were shaking and he could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage, like someone was belting out a loud rhythm on his chest. His skin stung where he had been hit – man, those kids were strong.
"What the fuck, man?" asked Thomas. "Why the hell are you so damn possessive of him, or whatever?"
Silence. And then;
"He didn't do anything, and I don't appreciate you beating my staff just because he annoyed you slightly."
"That's what they're for, isn't it? To serve us. And if they forget their place, it's ours to remind them of it."
There was a noise, like a tut of disapproval.
"Oh, you disagree, Armin?"
"Yeah, I do. I don't see the point of bullying them around for no reason."
"Ugh, you're sounding like Marlowe. Thank god he's not here. And I did have a reason – he spoke back to me."
"I'm speaking back to you now, you gonna hit me?"
"Different. You're Enhanced, he's not."
"Besides," that was Nack's voice. "If it was me, I would have given him a ten the second he walked in here, Marco. For what happened that night."
"I'm not you," Marco said coolly. "I'm not as trigger happy with my dial as you are, either."
"Uhh," came a voice. The kid with the buzz cut. "If you guys would shut up and listen, you'd be able to realize he's still outside, listening to us."
Damn enhanced hearing.
Jean bolted to the kitchens.
Marco grunted, dropping low and rolling to avoid the energy blasts. He came to his feet, and when the chunk of wood was hurled towards him, he slammed through it with his right arm. The metal limb sank through it like a knife through butter. He whirled, catching the first instructor by the shoulder and hauled him up, throwing him into the second.
Another instructor ran towards him, but Marco dropped to one knee, his other leg darting out to take out his legs. When he stumbled, Marco shot up and grabbed him by the shirt with his metal arm, flinging him to the other side of the room.
Jean watched Marco's training session from the corner. So far, it consisted of Marco throwing about like, ten other guys twice his size and age. He had sat in on one of his training sessions before, but he seemed much more…intense, this time. As if he was really blowing off steam, as if he was angry.
It was Saturday morning. One more day before he could see Odette again. The morning after the disastrous study session with his friends.
In the end, when he went to the kitchens he had ran into Petra. She of course, had seen the red streaks on his cheeks, the trembling of his hands, and the look in his eyes. She sent someone else up with the snacks and to serve for the evening, and brought Jean into the kitchen to press ice against his face. She could be intimidating, but she really did care about her staff.
Marco's instructor called a break, and the men he was sparring with all left the room. Marco stayed, wiping at the back of his neck with a towel. "Jean?" he called. Jean grabbed the jug of water and a glass, bringing it down to him. The taller boy slumped on the ground, drinking gratefully. "Thanks."
He shifted into a more comfortable position. "You can sit too, y'know," he said.
"Okay." Jean hesitated, before sitting beside him.
Silence hung between them. Not unusual, but unlike the usual…professional silences, this one felt awkward. "I'm sorry about last night," he said, after a while. "Thomas and Nack's enhanced abilities must be that they're extremely stupid."
Jean was a little taken aback by the apology. "It's…uh, it's…alright, I guess. Would have been worse if you hadn't stopped it."
"That was Sasha, mostly," Marco said. His good eye locked onto Jean's for a minute, before drifting to the two dark marks on his face. His frown deepened. "I didn't stop them last time," he said quietly.
Jean shook his head.
"You're seeing your sister tomorrow, right?" Marco asked.
"Yeah."
Another silence.
"I really am sorry, Jean. Not just for last night, but for what they did to you and your sister."
It sounded so sincere that Jean felt like he had been slapped in the face again. He opened his mouth and shut it again, like a goldfish, unsure of what to say.
Marco took a deep breath, eyes leaving Jean's bruises. "I mean," he ran his flesh hand across the steel plates of his right arm. "All my life, I've known that we had this power of y…over the Unenhanced. And I just accepted it as normal. But now, I've seen what we can do. What I can do. And I don't like it as much as I did."
His words were practically falling over each other as he spoke, rushing to get it out. He gave Jean a weird look; almost nervous about how he'd respond, while relieved to have finally said it. Jean was stunned, and looked at him stupidly for a few minutes.
"Thanks," he said, after a while. Not really fitting, but…Jean felt like he needed to say it.
Marco gave him a smile then; a genuine one, even if it was small. In retrospect, compared to others, Marco really wasn't a bad person to work for.
Silence fell again, but this one was much more companionable.
"What the fuck happened to your face?" Odette asked, as soon as he walked in the door.
He ignored her question at first, coming in to wrap his arms around her gently. He could feel her smiling into his shoulder. "I missed you."
"I missed you too, bro," she said, pushing him away. "But what did you do to your face? Try to fix it, or something?"
"Oi."
Odette gave him a grin. Jean sat down on one end of the couch, and she rested her feet on his lap. It was strange, being back in this dump after spending two weeks in Caelum. "A petty Enhanced bastard, that was what happened," he said, by way of explanation. He didn't mention it was the two who had used their dials on her.
Odette rolled her eyes. "I hate you having to work for them," she said.
Jean scoffed. "What, you gonna tell me I should be working for Survey instead? Well, before you get started, Eren already gave me that lecture."
Odette rolled her eyes. "No, idiot. Survey is a lost cause already – I don't know how Eren or anyone else can believe we can overthrow the Enhanced. You're better off without them." She was silent for a moment. "I just hate the fact that you're away nearly all week, at their mercy."
"We need the money, Odette."
"We've managed fine before."
"That was before you got sick again."
"Yeah?" her voice was rising. Not good; it was best for her to stay calm, in case she would get too worked up. "Well I'd rather be sick if you were here, than be wealthy when you're up doing God knows what for them."
She finished with a cough.
Jean sighed. "I don't want to do it," he agreed. "But you're all I have left. Mom's gone, Dad was never really here to begin with, and if you're gone, I'll be alone. And I'd take seeing you once a week over never seeing you again."
Odette was silent. "Whatever," she said eventually, but Jean could tell she wasn't happy. "Just be careful around them, right?"
"I know. I survived Nile Dawk, I can survive Jeremiah Bodt." Jean rubbed absentmindedly at the bruises on his face. "Besides, I only really see his son. And for an Enhanced guy, he's pretty decent."
Odette snorted. "They're all bastards on the inside."
"Don't curse."
"Pfft. You're one to talk, mom."
"I'm not your mother."
"No, she was killed by them."
Jean sighed. "We don't know that-"
"Oh, come on, Jean." Odette leaned back against the armrest, ash brown hair falling over her spindly shoulders. "Where else is she going to be? If you think she's gonna waltz in and come home someday, then you're just as much of a dreamer as Eren Jaeger."
Jean didn't say anything for a minute. "You're not exactly making this easy, Odette."
"Yeah. I know."
Jean looked over to her, and was alarmed to see tears brimming in her eyes. She suddenly looked exhausted, as if she was weary from her outburst. Jean opened his mouth, about to try and comfort her, when the apartment door slammed open.
"Mikasa?"
Odette quickly wiped at her eyes as Mikasa stormed in. But it wasn't her usual calm self; she was panicked. Her grey eyes were blown wide, and the look on her face could only be described as fearful. Immediately, Jean felt a twist in his stomach. Mikasa was scared, and she was one of the most fearless people he knew. But there was also a fierce, determined glint in her eyes. From old missions for Survey, Jean recognized it as the look she had before a fight.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Eren," she responded immediately. "He's gone and gotten himself caught."
The blood drained out of Jean's face. "What?"
"It wasn't much," she added quickly. "He wasn't caught with Survey."
Jean exhaled heavily, letting his head fall back on the couch. That was something, at least; if he had been caught doing something for Survey, he would have been executed on the spot. "What happened?" he asked, standing up. Odette sat up straight.
"He was caught stealing," Mikasa said. "He was caught by the guards. They – they whipped him in the square, he's still there."
Jean winced. Whippings from guards were just as bad as the whippings Nile Dawk had given out. The victims were set hanging from their wrists in the main square of Terra, whipped in public by the Enhanced and left there to hang, no food, no water, until they decided to release him.
"Idiot," Jean muttered.
"Help me free him," Mikasa said immediately. "I can nearly do it myself – I just need a distraction."
"What – me?"
"Yes, you."
"Why me? Why not one of your accomplices in Survey?"
"Because they're Survey – if one of them were caught, they could be executed."
"And if I'm caught? Worst case scenario, I'm executed. Best case scenario? I'm whipped, and I lose my job, and lose a way to pay for Odette's medicine."
"Jean, please-"
"Jean." Odette swung her legs off of the couch. "You should do it. While you've been off playing slave for some stuck up Enhanced kid, Mikasa's been the one caring for me and keeping me company. We owe her this much, at least."
Jean looked at Odette. She was pissed at him, that much was clear. He could kind of understand how she felt; she felt like he was abandoning her. Leaving her down here, while he went to Caelum. But it wasn't that way at all.
He glanced at Mikasa. Eren and Mikasa were close friends, but the risk of getting caught…
Odette had always admired Mikasa. She was only one example of how strong women could be, Mikasa was competent and strong and smart and beautiful, all in one. She was everything Odette dreamed of being, but could never be.
She really was older than her fifteen years, Jean thought.
He turned back to Mikasa with a sigh. "You better have a plan, Ackerman."
They waited until curfew fell.
By 10pm, every evening, all Unenhanced citizens were required to stay inside. Of course, it didn't stop them from going outside – everyone knew how to run and do their best to dodge the Military Police – but it cleared the streets for the most part.
Jean knew from Survey missions how the guards patrolled: there were always at least two on the rooftops, a pair for every few streets. More pairs walked the streets, looking for stray Unenhanced to punish. In the main square, where Eren was, there would be twice that many. No wonder Mikasa needed a distraction to get a chance to free him.
Jean darted through the night, pressing close to the shadows of the buildings. In Caelum, there were always bright lights, so even at night it was never really dark. Down in Terra, it was always dark. Above, the lights of Caelum twinkled, and there were dim streetlights every few meters. Jean was wearing his darkest clothes, and to an Unenhanced, he would be near invisible. He wouldn't have the same luck with the Enhanced.
As silent as a mouse, he crept along the street. He darted into an alleyway when he heard a pair of guards turn the corner.
"Hey," he heard one say. "Did you hear that?"
Jean moved as fast as he could while making as little noise as possible. He headed down the alleyway, coming to a wall. A dead end. He could hear the guards getting closer. Taking a few steps back, he ran and jumped, landing on a trashcan and jumping again. His hands curled around the top of the wall, his feet scrambled to find purchase on the old brick. He swung himself over, letting himself hang on the other side, just out of sight of the guards. He waited until they moved away before hauling himself up on the wall.
From this height, he could scan the low rooftops. The rooftops of Terra were like a maze: all the same height, with massive skyscrapers rising out of the ground at random intervals. It was mostly quiet down here; talk and crying and laughter could just about be heard. Above, he could just about hear the hum of traffic and busy Enhanced life.
He studied the rooftops. The guards all stood out in the dark, with their bright uniforms. Moving quietly, Jean crept across the length of the wall, keeping still and preparing to drop at any moment. He was near the main square, now. Near Eren. He slid off of the wall, landing in a crouch at the corner of a street. He dumped the backpack off of his shoulders, yanking it open.
Ah, distractions. Mikasa's plan had been thought through, at least, but a lot could go wrong.
Jean picked out the first firework (when he had asked her how she had gotten a hold of fucking fireworks, she responded with "the black market, duh.") and set it into the ground. Pulling the lighter out of his pocket, he quickly lit it.
No time to be quiet now.
Jean raced across the street, vaulting over a heap of rubbish and crouching. The firework screamed as it shot into the air, raining purple sparks. The effect was immediate; Unenhanced faces crowding to look outside of windows, Enhanced guards racing to inspect the scene. Jean grinned, jumping to his feet and running again.
He ran across three streets before lighting the next one. He continued to run, edging closer to the main square to get the attention of the guards before running away, leading them on a wild goose chase. The adrenaline began to pump through his veins; he had forgotten what this was like. Running for your life, the thrill of a mission, the anticipation and excitement, knowing that you were defying the Enhanced. He found himself grinning as he raced along the street.
He nearly laughed, making the sky explode with colors, as the Enhanced guards got more and more confused. With any luck, the guards around the main square were searching for the culprit, and not paying attention to Mikasa. Checking his bag, he frowned, seeing only one firework left. Better make this one count.
"There!" he heard one call. "There he is!"
Shit.
It was always exciting until they found you. Jean yanked his hood up, pumping his arms through the air as he willed his body to move faster. His feet slammed into the ground, picking up speed. The fear began to kick in, especially as he could hear his pursuers gaining on him.
He was nearly at the main square now, once he made sure Mikasa and Eren were out of there, he would go down to the underground; the true slums of Terra, and lose them there. Speeding up, he jumped, grabbing hold of a windowsill. His muscles screamed in protest as he pushed himself up, but he didn't let himself stop. He kept pushing onwards, hauling himself up to the next windowsill.
There was a terrifying moment when the brick crumbled and he lost his grip, hanging from one hand from the window of a third floor. If he fell, surely he would break his foot, and be left for the Enhanced. He couldn't let that happen. Gritting his teeth, he swung up and caught the windowsill with his other hand. He climbed up the side of the building, rolling onto the rooftop just as the Enhanced reached it.
He flung his bag down into the face of the first one climbing the roof, sprinting away before he could focus on him and use his dial. He kept running across the uneven rooftops, slipping several times on broken slates. He didn't stop running though; if he stopped he would be caught.
He thought of Eren and Mikasa, who were hopefully making their way underground. He thought of Odette, strong spirited as ever, waiting for him to come back. He thought of Marco, lying in the lap of luxury and completely unaware of what was going on, but fully expecting to see him tomorrow.
Jean ran faster.
The Enhanced were on the roofs now, and they were gaining fast. They were stronger and faster than him; it was only a matter of time. Still holding the last firework, Jean lit it awkwardly while still running. There was a sudden shock as his collar buzzed, and the next thing he knew pain was flashing down through his whole body. He cried out, and nearly fell to his knees. He threw the firework behind him; just in time.
It went off, spinning madly, and nearly flew into the face of the nearest guard. It exploded in a shower of green sparks, and Jean could feel the heat from it at his back. The guard lost his focus on Jean, and the pain disappeared. Jean was on the main square now. He grabbed a drainage pipe and slid down it to the ground.
Shit.
Mikasa was still there.
He bolted across the square to where she was struggling to untie Eren from the wooden frame. They doubled as gallows, but for cases like Eren, they simply let him hang by his wrists. His shirt was off, instead leaving a horrible layer of bloody scars on his back. He was unconscious, and there was another man out beside him.
"The last of the guards only left at that last one," Mikasa said, as Jean helped her untie Eren. They finally got it loose, and he slumped to the ground, to be caught by his sister. "I only just got here."
She swung him over her shoulder, staggering a little under his weight. Jean glanced at the other man hanging by his wrists.
"C'mon," he hissed. "We can't just leave him."
Mikasa hesitated, and then nodded, helping him untie the man. "You'll have to carry him," she said. "And we'll have to move fast." They got him free just as one of the guards yelled, pointing them out to her comrades.
Jean slung the man over his back, and they both shot off. "Split up," he yelled to Mikasa at the first fork in the road. She nodded, moving left. Jean headed right.
It was harder this way. The man was heavy, and he was losing speed quickly. His heart was racing, but he was already tired. And he couldn't move up onto the roofs with someone on his back.
He judged by the sounds behind him that the Enhanced were splitting up to try and catch them. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. He could hear one pair of footprints following him. Would he be able to take on a guard?
Guess it was time to find out.
Jean couldn't run for much longer. He slowed, turning to face the guard. All he saw was a flash of a bright uniform, fire crackling in a man's hand, and he raised his arms in an effort to protect himself.
And then there was a smash, a grunt, and the guard fell forward, landing face first on the ground with blood spurting from a head wound.
Jean's eyes widened, and he stumbled back a few steps.
Three people came out from behind the corner, one holding a metal pipe that still had the guard's blood on it, from when they hit him around the head with it. Recognition flickered in Jean's eyes as he recognized the trio; some of the most lethal Unenhanced he had met, some of the most skillful in all of Survey.
"A-Annie," he managed, after a moment or two. "Reiner, Bertl!"
They didn't waste time with greetings. "What the hell are you doing out here, Kirschtein?" Annie Leonhardt questioned, twirling the pipe in her fingers. "You would have been Enhanced food if it wasn't for us."
Reiner put a big hand on Jean's shoulder. "We can ask questions later, Annie," he said, before turning to Jean. Usually he was good humored and kind hearted, but right now, he had a serious expression on his face. "We need to talk with you Jean. Survey need to talk to you."
Jean was confused, the past few minutes having passed in a blur. He was extremely relieved; he had been saved, but worried for Miaksa, and as much as he liked Reiner, there was no way he was going back to Survey.
"No," he said, after a moment, but he didn't shake Reiner's hand off. "I'm done with Survey."
"We just saved your life," Annie hissed. "Talk to use in private, you owe us at least that."
"I…" Jean began.
"Uhh…," Bertholdt cut in, the gentle giant taking a few steps towards them. "Can we argue underground? There are more Enhanced headed this way."
Reiner looked at Jean, eyebrows raised in question. "You coming or not?"
Jean sighed. "Fine."
"Then come on," said Annie. "We need to get off the streets."