A sharp blow to his ribcage plunged the air out of Levi's lungs. Immediately, his eyes burst open. His vision blurred and faded in and out, unconsciousness and awakeness fighting against each other. Then, a boot connected with his face. His head surged back at a painful angle, a steady stream of crimson projectiled from his nostrils, leaving a gory puddle on the frigid stone floor beneath. His nose broke with a sickening crack, blood ran down his throat and splattered onto his shirt as another agonizing series of coughs wretched through his sore chest.
"Hey, did you hear what I asked you?" the one with the heavy, military-issued boots urged as he poked his foot against Levi's side. But, Levi was still do dazzled to respond. His ribs ached with each hack and his leg throbbed violently around the ankle as it swelled tighter than his boot allowed. He forced away the need to cradle it tightly against his chest.
With his vision was still swimming, he tried to comprehend the situation around him, thrown off by his brief bout of unconsciousness.
Several of the uniform-clad MP's surrounded him as he laid gasping for air. One of them said something, maybe the same one as before, but Levi was unable to make out the words. Someone got another kick in that made Levi topple onto his stomach. The laughter rang between the group that stood over him.
Still, in a foggy state, he started to recall the dread that lurked through his abdomen as his leg gave out on the ladder. That wasn't good. If he couldn't walk, they had the upper hand. Whatever had happened after that, was still unclear. However, he didn't need his memories to realize that he had been caught and that he was in a truly shitty position.
While distracted by his musings, a set of arms reached out, grabbing onto his shirt and tossed him onto his back. By now, he was starting to regain the awareness enough to realize that it was best to pretend that he had not; as long as these fuckers thought he was out of it, he at least had the momentum of surprise.
Above him, a set of yellowed, crooked teeth grinned down at him. One of the thugs, he figured. The shitty surface dwellers from the MP were granted proper dental care, and in his experience, they cried bloody murder if someone dared kick their shiny, straight teeth in. The underground was different like that. Missing a couple of teeth wasn't uncommon in the slightest. In fact, having all your teeth made you look like a wuss. Someone who would cower away from a fight.
Levi still had all of his. If he hadn't been as infamous as he was, no one would believe that he had fought a day in his life.
Fucking idiots.
The reality of his predicament slowly settled in as chubby fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt and hauled him off the ground. A wide gap spat unintelligible words at him. Levi frowned at the nasty smell that oozed out between the unruly row of off-white marble and felt a stark need to rinse his face. His full strength was yet to return, so he let his head lull limply back, partially to avoid the bad breath but mostly attempting to get a better overlook of his opponents.
Most of the MP's smirked smugly, probably getting some kind of sick satisfaction at seeing a sewer rat about to get mauled. The thugs looked equally as trigger-happy, hands and legs twitching to get their hands dirty.
As Levi's eyes brushed lazily over the group of people, they lingered a moment longer on one particular MP. He couldn't quite determine the soldier's gender, but somehow, they looked out of place. The brown eyes that watched him intently through thick lenses didn't have the same firey sadistic glee as the others. If anything, they looked madly intrigued.
The time to dwell on the soldier quickly fell short as Levi's body was pushed back onto the ground. The man on top was already fumbling with the buckle of his belt. A cool chill went down Levi's spine, and he knew it was time to quit lazing around and play dead. He had to move.
Numb hands moved carefully along his hips and positioned at the trigger of his ODM gear's grappling hooks. The second the bastard staddling him let his hands move down to reach for Levi's zipper, he released them.
The hooks sprung out, flesh squelching as they burst through layers of fat and muscle, successfully penetrating the man and connecting to a beam in the ceiling. The revolting man stared aimlessly to where the wires ran through his abdomen, before slowly peering back up at Levi with a troubled appearance.
Levi clicked his tongue, uttering a low, "filthy," before making the hooks retreat, letting them reel back towards his gear and back through the man. For a moment, the grunt swayed on his feet. Then he collapsed unceremoniously forwards onto the floor.
Levi didn't give the others time to react before he released his latches again, attaching at the same beam and letting himself fly through the air and swing back onto the deck overlooking the floor he had been spying on.
Landing on his feet, his left leg immediately gave out. A few selective curses left his mouth as he scrambled to not collapse, surveying the fastest route to the outside. The weapons would have to be for now if he wanted to survive. He'd come back for them later. Additionally, he now recognized the thugs' faces and could spot them out on the streets if need be.
Suddenly, a reeling sound swift past his ear, and another hook darted into the roof a few feet away from him. He gave a swift look behind his shoulder and spotted three MP's in maneuver gear. One of them was the long-haired, gender-incomprehensible one. The MP peered at him eagerly through thick glasses and gave him a strange smile. The MP's hands shot out, blades crashing into their credulous comrades. They both fell over dead, partly decapitated on the floor.
Levi stared owlishly at them, mind working a million miles per hour to get on top of the situation. The MP winked at him before roaring out, "What the hell? Where did you get the blades from?" Then, they paused for a beat, before wailing and tossing their arms out, "Oh no! Webber! Fritz! Why!?"
Their theatrical performance was obvious, but whatever the hell was happening, Levi had to seize the unlikely opportunity. Never in his life had he believed in luck, but, he'd be a true knucklehead to not recognize it once it smacked him in the face. He studied the peculiar soldier, eyes narrow in confusion. Why would they help him out and kill their own comrades? As much as he appreciated their help, something was obviously off. The MP mouthed a frantic "Go!" and gestured wildly towards the window Levi had entered from.
He scrunched his eyebrows, giving a hesitant salute, and swung off, nearly breaking a Levi-shaped hole in the ceiling as his weakened senses tried to navigate towards the narrow exit. As he cast a last glance behind him, he saw the MP clench their fist and curse him out dramatically with a wide grin on their face.
"Goddammit, he got away!" their voice roamed after him, and Levi rolled his eyes as he skipped from rooftop to rooftop, putting as much distance between himself and the thugs as possible before he inevitably had to stop to catch his breath.
Once he finally did stop, it was with an unceremonious crash to the cobble-stoned street. He realized that his vision was rapidly darkening towards the edges the moment he was back in the dimming daylight.
Trying to catch his breath was to no avail once the hard ground knocked the small amount of air he had left out of him. Levi quickly understood that he had a limited time of consciousness left. With the remains of his strength, he shuffled his body to the side of the back alley, concealing his body as much as possible behind a few broken crates and stacks of abandoned trash.
Once he finally felt that he was hidden, or at least look sufficiently dead to anyone passing by, the blackness that had been lingering in the corners of his eyes flooded his entire sight. The last thing he felt before he allowed himself to space out was the nice cool feel of the sidewalk against his bruised cheek.
"I know he was on the trail of some corrupt military-shits a few days ago," Isabel declared fiercely as they marched through the streets. Her fast pace made sure she kept a few feet distance between herself and Furlan while they scanned each and every backstreet they came across.
"What? Why?" Furlan probed and quickened his pace. The short girl smiled knowingly, a glee brought on by knowing something he didn't.
"There are some low-lives that are gonna buy weapons from the military pigs," she declared proudly, using words that clearly imitated Levi's. "Big bro doesn't want thugs to access automatic weapons. They make more than enough of a mess as it is."
"How do you know?" Furlan inquired anxiously. He didn't like the thought of Isabel knowing Levi's business. The teen had an exceptional knack for getting into trouble. The last thing Levi needed was to babysit her as well when he was basically babysitting the entire Underground already.
"He told me the night before yesterday." Isabel's upturned nose pointed to the sky. "Well, kinda," she hesitantly corrected herself. "He fell asleep on one of the kitchen chairs. He talks in his sleep, you know. At least when he's sick. Or, maybe if he sleeps, I guess."
Furlan squinted narrowly at her, wanting to tell her that, "Of course he knew." But, the truth was that he didn't. Because he had never actually witnessed Levi sleep for any amount of time except for a quick nap brought on by exhaustion or the drug-induced unconsciousness from the medicines he'd received the day before. Instead, he huffed out curtly, "Well, did he tell you anything else of actual importance? Like where the trade would go down?"
Isabel shrugged lightly, mumbling a quiet, "I dunno," and pocketed her hands. Furlan kept himself from rolling his eyes. He knew he wasn't really mad at her as much as about the situation. It was simply easier to release it towards the vigorous girl than admitting that he was really, truly scared of what might have happened if Levi had actually gone after these shady bastards all by himself in his current state. A pinch of guilt had settled in his stomach all though it didn't seem like Isabel cared that much.
They kept walking in silence for another few minutes before Isabel suddenly shrieked, "Dr. Jäger!" She stormed off towards where the bespectacled man was exchanging a few words with someone hidden behind a worn-down wooden door. Furlan trotted after her, spotting the doctor's son, Eren, waving happily towards them. Isabel gave him a warm hug before she approached the older Jäger.
"How's it going, monkey?" Furlan greeted as well, ruffling the messy mop of brown locks fondly. Eren swatted at his arm playfully and gave an unconvincing, none-committed pout.
"This isn't good," Furlan overheard the doctor mutter gravely after the door had closed. He peered over and saw the older man rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. "I have another patient left today, but Eren and I will join your search once I'm done. If you find Levi and he's in a bad shape, I want you to come and find me immediately."
The doctor pointed further down the street, explaining where he was going to be before reaching out his hand for Eren to take. The child waddled happily over to his dad and grabbed it, waving at the teens with a toothless grin as he was being led onto the sidewalk.
"I guess we'll keep searching, then," Furlan uttered grimly and Isabel replied with a determined nod. However, the moment they turned to walk off, their names were being called by a frantic childish voice.
Turning around, they spotted Eren running towards them.
"It's Mr. Levi! We found him!" Once he'd reached the two, he grabbed a hold on Furlan's shirt and tugged at him desperately to follow him. They didn't need much convincing before they started sprinting after the kid.
They ran through the wide, dusty street with mud splashing from underneath their feet, coating boots and pantlegs with a thick cake of dirt and hearts racing. After only 200 feet, Eren made a sharp turn and disappeared into a narrow alleyway. Furlan followed closely with Isabel at his heels.
The first thing they spotted was Grisha kneeled on the clayed ground between piles of partially torn garbage bags, broken bottles, and debris. But, as their eyes adjusted to the faint lighting, the contour of a pair of black boots became clear.
"Shit," Furlan muttered breathlessly. "Levi!"
Grisha and Furlan carried Levi between them. After they had found the lifeless form, Grisha had knocked on a few doors and eventually been given a tattered blanket which he brought back to where Furlan and Isabel tended to Levi.
His injuries probably looked worse than what they were. Busted lips and broken noses tended to bleed quite a bit. What really worried him, was the exertion the young man had put on his body when he wasn't at all well. How he'd managed to walk all the way out there, hold his own in a fight while also sporting ODM gear was frankly unfathomable. For now, the most pressing issue was getting him back to their humble home. Really, Grisha would have liked to bring the boy up to the surface with him and admit him to a hospital, but there was simply no way for a mere doctor from the Shinganshina district.
Approaching the kids, he saw Isabel using her long, orange shirt to gently wipe crusted blood off of her friend's forehead. Furlan was sitting on the other side of the street, holding a protective arm across Eren's shoulders.
"Furlan, help me to slide this underneath him," he instructed calmly and laid out the threadbare quilt.
"Uh, s-sure," Furlan sputtered and scrambled to get back up.
"We want to move him as gently as possible. I suspect he has a few fractured ribs and that can cause a punctured or collapsed lung. That would be really bad." Furlan hesitated, peering anxiously over at Levi's prone form. His chest was moving rapidly and he had a pinched expression. "It'll be okay as long as you follow my instructions." The doctor tried his best to smile.
Together, they easily slipped the cloth underneath Levi before carefully lifting him up, leaving him in a kind of hammock between them. The young man groaned hoarsely which lead him into a weak eruption of coughs. As quickly as they safely could without jostling the patient, they began trekking towards their house. It gained them a lot of unwanted attention, people stopping and openly gawking at them. Usually, Levi's infamy served them well, keeping people from causing too much trouble. Parading him around in this state, concerned Furlan greatly.
At one point, they had to pass a shady-looking group of military officials. A clover of three, with green cloaks draped over their shoulders and hoods obscuring most of their face. Furlan peered at them over his shoulder. One of them, the smallest one, was clearly an MP according to the unicorn patch on their back. The two others were roaming above the first, tall and broad but with a different kind of patch that Furlan didn't recognize. His concentration snapped back to the road ahead when one of the taller figures turned to look at them.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath. A heavy lump of worry started growing heavy in his abdomen.
After another ten minutes of walking, they finally began the nerve-wracking task of carrying Levi up the stairs. For a moment, Furlan forgot how to breathe as Grisha directed him on how they were going to get the limp figure between them through the cornered stairs without hitting his head.
When they finally laid Levi down on the cot, Furlan's back was drenched in sweat. Grisha ordered him out of the room while he checked and treated Levi's injuries. Back in the living room, Isabel had sagged into the couch with a blank gleam in her emerald eyes, while Eren stood awkwardly by the kitchenette.
"Are you hungry?" Furlan asked gently, mustering a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. The child looked like he was reluctant to admit it, so Furlan reached into one of their cupboards and pulled out a mixing bowl. "We don't have much, but we bought some milk the other day. Do you like oatmeal?" Large, teal eyes glimmered gratefully back at him. With a shy smile, the child bobbed his head. Furlan chuckled, realizing that the notion felt less strained this time, and handed Eren a pair of whiskers.
"You're the mixing-master, all right?"
Eren grinned, giving him a ceremonious military salute with an upside-down fist against his heart, and started his task with great vigor. But, no more than a few minutes later, a hard, resolute knock came on their door.
Furlan suddenly remembered the heavy lump in his stomach. Eren looked up at him and he looked back at Isabel, who was peering up from behind the back of the couch.
With a swift nod, Furlan gestured to Isabel to be ready to fight, his own hand twitching to grab the knife tucked in his boot. Silently, he led Eren across the room and opened the door to the bedroom.
"Someone's at the door," he explained curtly, leading Eren inside. Without waiting for Grisha to respond, he shut it quietly before reaching down into his shoe, pulling up his knife, and moved to stand ready for attack a few feet from the entry. Isabel had gotten up from the couch and mirrored his stance, waiting to open the door and jump out of the way in case someone came storming in.
The teens exchanged nods once they were ready, and Isabel swiftly opened the door.