Well I've been twisting to the sun and the moon, I needed to replace. The fountain in the front yard is rusted out. All my love was down, in a frozen ground. There's a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed. He is dangling my keys, he even fakes a toss…. Whatever could it be, that has brought me to this loss?

She'd turned back when she saw a flash, figures dancing between the trees, suited to the lack of light that was hindering them all. Armin had fallen three times so far, causing Levi to progressively go from monotone to angry-ish monotone. A terrible way to describe it, yes, but she hadn't seen his shoulders untense since he'd opened the letter Erwin sent, hurrying them along with his cryptic response to 'should we go?'.

Zoe conceded that, yes, half her driving force in turning around to face the threat did revolve around the fact that Levi, while still dangerous, was injured. She'd been up and about for 3 days, so, maybe the frequency of the injuries concerning tendons was decreasing her recovery time.

She could go; she could fight.

And she loved him. Didn't honestly know how, those three words, hardly heard, hardly defined and left to be abstract, applied to this situation. But she did love him.

She ducked to meet the first, strides behind Levi's group, one of the first to branch off from the house, clueing in on the retreating figures. Zoe considered the idea that she was making up for her inability to turn back and help the Special Tactile Squad, and clung onto that, hoping it made up for her very obvious reckless behavior. Fighting these men made her realize that she was better at combating humans than Titans, and despite her attachment to the Military Police, with their distance from the other branches of the military, she was ruffled.

Zoe batted away an attempted punch, managing to ram her elbow into her attacker's solar plexus, dropping him in the next move. Her leg was almost fully operational, and her well executed, well trained movements packed power, allowing her to deal with the first five men with relative ease. As she went closer to the house, she began to realize the gravity of her current situation, and quailed, freezing for a second.

There were 20 men still clustered around the cabin, torches reflecting their shadows, the weapons a few of them carried. If the effect was sharp enough, she could see their mouths move, the subtle shifts in their stance. When they finally turned to her, their shadows jumped and leapt, tempting her to turn, run from them (pathetic), one regarding her almost quizzically, head cocked, a crooked smile in place of a sneer.

She drew her handles from their place under her jacket, hesitating as she brought them to the blades still at her side, in their compartments. The gear wasn't to combat humans, was it? Zoe clenched her teeth, brought the blades out before her, fist on top of the other, flat out to either side. The torch caught on the special metal, and she wondered if the blades wouldn't corrode as fast as they did when they sliced through human flesh, rather than Titan.

They didn't.

And humans were easier to cut through. What a cold term, 'human'. As if she was anything but.

Blood splashed warm on her skin, and she made to wipe it away, but her hand didn't help anything, smearing more over her cheek. She prepared to drop blades, make for a new pair, the twenty men down to an easy seven, crooked smile man still very much present. Zoe hated that look, allowed it to break her concentration, because she wanted him to take her seriously, or she'd cut that smirk off his face; then Nathan's. Make it a fucking matching set.

She careened forward, swung her blades into the paunchy man in front of crooked smile. The dull blades stuck, and she couldn't yank them out. Crooked smile reached, pushed the man forward, toppling her, the dead weight pressing her into the cool, damp soil, a soft mixture that slid under her boots. Her efforts were getting her no where, and the leader, she was sure crooked smile was the leader, stepped closer.

Adrenaline granted her new strength, and she managed to wriggle from under the dead man. Zoe crawled back, not standing fast enough, as the soil gave again, and crooked smile stepped in, large hand stretched, heading for her face. The smile got larger, just before he clapped his hand over her eyes. She screamed, noise rattling through her lungs. Her next breath taken did ease the pain, clear some of the panic that spilled over, threatening any dignity she tried to hold close.

Black closed over her, as she pressed her mouth into a tight line, relaxing her body in the hopes to put him off. A disapproving noise came from her assailant, and a warm cloth was cupped over her nose and mouth. She breathed in the smell.

Breathed out.

Set the cheetahs on the loose, there's a thief out on the move, underneath our legion's view; They have taken Cleopatra. Run run run, come back for my glory . Bring her back to me.. Run run run the crown of our pharaoh. The throne of our queen is empty. And we'll run to the future, shining like diamonds in a rocky world; A rocky, rocky world. (..) The jewel of Africa; What good is a jewel that ain't still precious? How could you run off on me? How could you run off on us? You feel like God inside that gold.

Everything was quiet, except a steady, drip, drip, drip, from a mystery water source, seeming to remain in the same parameters even as her head wagged to and fro, trying to dispell the noise, all a bit too steady, she couldn't stand it. Zoe was slumped over, arms bound to the chair, breathing joining the drip, drip, ragged now, jaw clenched to fend off chattering teeth. She had no idea where she was, or what had happened, she was just in the cloying darkness despite her eyes being open, trying not to panic. It was fucking cold, and her nervous sweating before this wasn't making the new temperature any better.

The lights came on. She gave a sharp cry, closing her eyes tight, shuddering, distracted from the noise of footsteps until they were right beside her. Zoe turned, looked up at Nathan, his red hair and pale complexion giving him away; she didn't even have to see his entire face. Confusion was added to the pain behind her eyes, wondering why the man wasn't even greeting her with that common scan up and down, a smirk, or a too tight handshake. There wasn't a flash of recognition in his eyes, and her fear spiked, any hope that he was here to save her dissolving.

He undid her bonds, and Zoe jolted forward in an effort to get past him, out the open door, caught instantly, Nathan's cruelty unexpectedly on her now. She hit the floor, and his boot slammed against her side, tossing her small body against the side wall. Zoe coughed, hands shielding her face, pain roiling through her in shudders. Nathan dipped, grasping her wrists, dragging her with him.

She sagged, fighting against his pull, but he grasped both her wrists in one hand, hand swinging to her stomach, forcing air out. It went next to her hair, and forced her to stand, walking close to him. Zoe saw Jay next, but his eyes held the same lack of recognition, the slim built man opening the door, the area there warm, with soft rugs, and settees that looked too inviting.

"Captain Ackerman," Nathan said, hand still in her hair.

A tall, thin man stood from a padded chair, spreading long arms, and Zoe wondered where she'd seen him before. She swayed when she recognized the man who'd captured her, that crooked smile still in place, and almost fell, but the grip in her hair convinced her otherwise. Captain Ackerman tutted at this sight, waving a hand carelessly, and Nathan removed his, stepping back into the shadows, door closing quietly.

"You know Levi Ackerman?" he put a comforting hand on her back, guided her forward, gesture grand as he showed her a chair.

She hesitated.

"Come now, lovely," Captain Ackerman was on a knee next to her, eyebrows screwed up. "That boy is my pride. I don't want to hurt him. And you don't want to have some of your torture methods applied to you? Hmm?"

Zoe swallowed thickly, stared straight ahead. He stood fluidly, leaning over the back of her chair, long fingers tracking down a path left by her tears, a low humm making her cower, curling into herself. Another track soon came into existence, and his fingers were wet, tapping at her nose. She winced, leaning away, but his fingers were harsher, tight at her neck.

"Tell me."

She shook her head, gasping for air as she strained against his hold.

He took his hand away, gave her another smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh well. Shame. I don't like to crush flowers, but I suppose, pulling off the petals will make the job easier." Nathan had her then, dragging her from the warm room. "Nothing too scarring, John, I still want her pretty."

Zoe's confusion invaded, wondered why he was calling Nathan 'John', and why Nathan didn't look happy with the non-violent route, asking,"Sir?"

"No nails, or teeth. And she has to be fairly operational."

Nathan's mouth twisted down, but a salute was forthcoming. She was ripped from the warm room, shoved back into the cold room, no matter her protests, Nathan able to grab her and rattle her, just like Lucas had. And she'd worked so fucking hard to fight as well as the larger men could, so they couldn't trap her against walls, so Levi wouldn't save her.

Zoe squirmed as soon as the shakes stopped, managing to knee Nathan in the groin, shoving him back into the other wall of the corridor. He hit the back of his head, sinking down slowly, a hand to his wound already in place. She ran, unsure where she was going, but she heard Jay's shout, knew he was coming for her, running as fast as she was.

Faster, actually, and she'd never been in the opposing position to Jay, first in class, the cadet year before her. It was terrifying. He was strong, tall, his hair falling into his face, brow dark, the brown of his irises black in the dim light. When she looked back, his gaze was locked onto her, unwavering as he gained on her.

He reached her.

| late 845 |

"I hate this, Jay," she whispered, neutral green hoodie falling further into her eyes, melting in with the underbrush.

Jay gave a shrug, eyes lowered as well, shadowed by his hood. He stabbed his knife into the ground, lifting it, bringing it back down into the same place over and over again. His eyes kept the same mark in sight, knicking his hand, blood spattering onto the dark soil, glistening briefly before absorbed.

They were in the backcountry, some territory in the mountainous region behind wall Rose. Some political fugitive had hidden himself well; just not good enough for common folk under the government's thumb to be rendered unable to recognize the man, and report back. So here Zoe and Jay were, sent off by the hearsay in a report. The report had said there would be exactly eight people in the windowless cabin. One of them was important, and wasn't to be killed by the two of them.

Trees shaded their persons, hunkered down in the bushes, trying not to let morality steer them from their course of murdering whoever was in the meeting that was scheduled at this time, on Thursday. It was like they wanted to get caught.

Zoe rose, back bent to maintain a lack of visibility, creeping along the tree line, closer towards the cabin. Laughter filtered out, and her hand began to shake, watching the sun go down painfully slow. She wanted to grab it, drag it under the horizon, or at least tip it the slight bit needed to make it dark, and easy.

"Fuck it, do it now, I don't give a shit," she said, drawing a slim blade from her knee high boots, mostly as a test. It was a nervous tick, too. She didn't have time to list her issues.

The government wanted this bloody, a spectacle, so when the bodies were found, because the stink finally reached the nearby village, fear was inspired. Enough to ward off further rebellion, at least. Jay seemed to find neutral ground she didn't manage well, stalking ahead of her, but still allowing her to take the lead, instruct his every move. She had obedience, but her talents, and pride in those talents, didn't lead to the subservience Jay had. Besides, what would Levi say if he saw her taking orders like a dog?

Jay lifted his hand to knock, squeezing his cut palm shut, though blood dripped steadily down his arm. Veins stood out in the strong column of his neck, jaw working under his skin. She didn't have to look to know he was on the balls of his feet, ready to pounce at any threat shown.

Zoe smiled when the door was opened, slipping her hood back from her face. The man looked her up and down, returned a more wary smile, keeping his place in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Jay was at her side, dripping blood from the cut in his hand, giving her an excellent excuse as to why they had to come in, and why they had to sit down. For Jay's health. Not that Jay cared about that at the moment, as nervous as her, when considering the consequences of not getting the job done.

She didn't know why she was stringing these men along, lulling them into false complacency. It was to pinpoint the ringleader, but couldn't she do that by smashing bottles over heads? Zoe loved the way their mood could shift as soon as she mentioned the Military Police. As soon as they heard that, they knew how much trouble they were in.

One tried for the door, but Jay was there in a flash, veritably clotheslining him, bringing a booted foot down hard, had the man coughing up blood in the next second. Jay bent, grabbed the rotund man's collar, dragging him across the floor before flinging him on the table. Drinks clattered to the floor, onto the other fat men's laps, staining rumpled white shirts.

Scrambles to wipe themselves down occurred, before the more serious issue of defending themselves was handled. Not that it was handled well, as one charged towards Jay, attempting to get past him. Jay's eyes widened before he simply let the man bounce off his chest, remaining unmoving as the man shouted desperate curses at him, just staring down. Zoe hid her smile in her hand, still sitting near the head of the table, wondering, like Jay was, if that was someone who truly had enough intelligence to survive as he clearly had. But political exiles did grow fat and lazy; example, everyone at this small cabin meeting.

"Stop running around, please," Jay snapped, head jerking to the side, focusing on the man. "Your rotundity."

The taller fat man gaped like a fish, falling back on his bum, and Zoe laughed, hand slapping down on the table before she pointed at Jay, "That was a joke; a good one."

"I'm not that serious, Commander Roth."

She cringed at the mistake, "Put the Lt. before that, as that's all I'll ever be. Also, I'm not a Commander in any sense. Hardly a Captain."

Jay didn't respond, dragging a side table into place before the door, making sure to appropriately block it. Honestly, it didn't look like any of the eight here had enough upper body muscles to handle that undertaking, so they were safe. Also, no windows were in place, which was a nice touch, and made their work, much, much more easy.

"So which one of you is the least important?" She asked.

Not that she didn't have the information; there was only one man here who had information of benefit to the Central government, and now, she was pitting them against each other, in the hopes to produce a better result. They pointed, after a bit of Jay glowering, to what looked like the youngest in their group, the balding man immediately hurling insults their way. Like everything in politics, the men went back and forth without making a real decision, ending up red faced and more uncomfortable than they were before, packed next to each other in their ties like peas in a pod.

She nodded at Jay, and he stepped forward, grabbing the least important one. Jay grappled with him for an instant, allowing the man to slip his bonds, dashing for the clearly blocked door. Zoe didn't turn to watch him slit the man's throat, heard the gurgle, saw the terror in the men's face. Blinking lazily, she hid a yawn in her hand; she didn't feel sorry for them, because these men had been among the ones that lined their coat pockets while they argued in the warmth of their halls, while the workers froze outside, waiting for their seemingly simple decision. Her father had been one of those disgruntled workers. A farmer, to be specific, but she wasn't here to find old memories, and turn them into feelings.

Zoe pointed to Jay's general direction, murmured, "See that? If you are not useful to us, that's going to happen to you. I can narrow it down as we go."

The fire burning in the hearth reflected off the growing pool of blood. Humans did have a surprising amount of blood in them; she was going to take it as dispassionately as possible at the moment. At the start, she'd balked at this kind of thing, even had taken to crying over it at night in the privacy of her room. She remembered her then roommate, killed a month later during a riot in Rose, telling her to suck it up, muttering about annoying pretty girls.

Zoe hadn't had a roommate since she'd been promoted, and preferred to keep it that way. She was good at something, finally, made someone happy with her results, even if she felt rotten inside when she had blood all over her hands, speckled over her uniform. Making to wipe a dot of blood off the military police emblem on her jacket, she smeared more over it. A sigh escaped her, as her adrenaline diffused, letting her eyes drift over the seven very dead men, so recently alive. The important one was staring at his fellow parasites, eyes wide, though he didn't seem to appreciate being alive in the slightest. Not even a thank you offered; so rude.

"Are we going to set them around the table?" Jay asked, boots splashing in blood as he made his way towards her. He was soaked in red. "It might make a better statement."

"Yea, let's go with that," she said, brushing their table off, before arranging the seats.

Improvised torture implements fell, pulled off fingernails following suit. She wasn't a fan of the screaming, so she'd done that to only one of them, because of his annoying efforts towards escaping. Zoe wondered she would've done in 841, when faced with this. Her lofty views had fallen to the ground, trodden underfoot by the ones she'd murdered.

She aided Jay in dragging the men to their seats, all of them dead weight in every sense. Zoe finally moved the table away from the door, led their prisoner outside, waiting for Jay to bring their horses back from the woods. By the time he arrived, the moon had set itself high in the sky, and she lifted her face to the silvery light, a shaky breath leaving her. She'd come down too soon from the high of killing people, and now her limbs threatened to shake, even in saddle.

The central military police were waiting in their specified location, the tip of a cigar lighting one of their faces. She hoped that was the reason why she was finding it harder to breath, hoping her morals wouldn't come back now, of all times. Zoe didn't need to question authority, or her own actions, because she'd answered her doubts before; everyone was a killer once pushed to their limits. Why would anyone have the audacity to judge her with that solemn reality?

She watched the moon and stars pass by on her way back to the Office, Jay at her side, clothes stiff with blood. Jay took his shirt off as soon as he could, standing at her side as the night shift government personnel handled their laundry. While the woman who worked during the day was normally smiling and talking to whoever came with in two feet of her, the man here looked like he handled a morgue.

"He looks like he's an undertaker by day," she said, climbing the stairs in front of him to the second floor of rooms, all a thousand times nicer than the barracks under them.

Jay's lips attempted a smile, but failed, "Yes."

"I know it's a bad attempt at humour."

"Commander," Jay began, stalling their progress as she turned to correct him, but he put up a hand to stop her, "I'd rather follow you than Nile Dok any day. I think you would suit the position, at some point. But if you prefer the title; I enjoy working with you, Captain."

"Thank you."

She'd had a bad dream last night. She was trapped here, in the Military Police, not finding anything better, becoming stagnant. Levi hadn't come for her anymore. And she was scared of that, in a way. But now she was asking herself, was that really such a bad thing?

"Goodnight, then," Jay murmured, his door closer to their stairwell than hers.

"Jay," her voice stopped his progress into his room.

"Yes?"

"Are we clones? Same as everyone else? Like Nathan."

Jay shrugged. "I don't think Nathan would ask things like that. I think we can make decisions for ourselves."

"We haven't in a while."

I had a dream; I had a dream I was flying over all of us. There were so many pretty people, so many pretty faces. I talked to some birds. I fell in love again. And none of this ever ended. Everything just kept going, and going and going. And even when you laughed, when you cried, and even when you were sad; you were really happy. Because you were here. And I got to meet every star, every planet. Everything that made me.