bad seed {capitolite massacre} || annie vs petra

[rook]

pass me that lovely little gun
my dear, my darling one
the cleaners are coming one by one
you don't even want to let them start

The city is hollow. The obnoxious buzz of Levi Heichou's celebrated Peacekeepers has been replaced with a white silence that drenches the halls of our headquarters like a bleach. It is a catacomb, every room so void of movement and life - Decaying slowly until this building is a relic. It is like the energy has been sapped from this place, and now we are left living in a desaturated atmosphere, until they return. Are they really that special, that they can bring a place as dead as this to life? Yes, they are.

I have felt the effects of this before, when I enlisted for the Capitol's internal Peacekeeping force. Only the ten Peacekeeper trainees with the highest ranking were permitted to join the Capitol Police. The rest are shipped out to the Districts, and a select few join Levi. He left the Capitol with all of my friends to seek out danger and other such thrills. I finished fourth, so I had every right to sign up for such an elite regiment. It was my choice not to go down the same path that my friends did, a difficult choice, but mine all the same. I am so alone now, and the regret still floats in my stomach.

I lie awake on my bed, my hands behind my head, supporting my neck as I stare patiently at the ceiling. The plaster is dry, cracked in places with dust clinging to it. It looks so tired and frail. I could break through it with one punch, but what would that accomplish? It might be satisfying for the shortest of moments. My bed is too comfortable, sucking me in with a sweet seduction. It wants me to stay here, where it is safe and quiet. I desperately try to procrastinate with thoughts of my friends and my career, because I know what comes next, and I don't want it.

I think back to that night we got drunk. It's all I think about lately, if I'm honest. When I close my eyes it's what I see, and when I wake up in the morning he's on my mind. I don't want him to be. It was a stupid drunken kiss. The thought lips on mine bring a fire to my cheeks. It may have been stupid, but it was the first time I felt free in over a year. He drained away my troubles and left me completely weightless. Do I crave him, or is it just that feeling of freedom? I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve Armin's affection, not after all the things I said and thought. I was drunk and spiteful, full of a dark malice that I should never have put on display. I'm not sure what I feel for him, but I know it's wrong. I know he's only going to get hurt. So, like every other distracting emotion, I try to bottle it up and hide it deep inside me.

I'm on duty today, but I won't be reporting in. This is problematic, particularly because of what's going to happen. I will look far too suspicious if I just bunk off. They will see from their register that a cadet was absent from assembly, and they will then find me afterwards and question my whereabouts. Of course, they may not have evidence but unauthorized leave is enough to detain a person on, and will make me a suspect. There can be no suspicion. None.

Give me time, and I will come up with a solution. That's what I told them. They are always in contact with me, pestering me to keep them updated with our progress. They want to know my ideas, but also they want to feed me theirs. They know that what I am going to do will be problematic for me, especially if I am unexplainably absent. They grew impatient, almost angry with me for not being imaginative to come up with a solution. After all, is that why they brainwashed humans instead of building robots? They wanted soldiers with imagination. Imagination is dangerous. Just give me time.

I have had a lot of time.

I sit upright, hugging my knees with my left arm. Am I ready for this? I bite my thumbnail, staring into that unexplainable space between reality and thoughts that your eyes somehow manage to focus on. Blink and it's gone. I have trained all of my life for this. I have to be ready. To fail is to die, or worse, to be captured. I take in to much air, and exhale deeply, trying to relax my tense structure. I know that I'll die before I tell them anything. It won't come to that, Annie.

I have to be ready. There is no time for doubt any more. It's time for politics to come into place. I have killed before, but only for the Capitol. I hated it. They made me kill that Avox for breaking the law. They could have asked any Peacekeeper in the Capitol Police, but they asked me. Of course they asked me, who else was there to ask? The rest of the force are gutless and without character. In the end, I was the only person with the stomach to get the job done. I still see red, and that streak will burn redder still before this day ends. It will be a red to celebrate, not to regret. It's time to kill in the name of what I believe in. It's time to bring glory back to District Thirteen, and for the Capitol to experience fear again.

No one is safe, because this is where we make our stand. Twelve years ago we made our initial attack. No one knew back then what the cause was, or who was behind it, but it was clear that the intent was murder. Just thinking about it makes my stomach turn in windmills. They were just kids. I can remember seeing them depart from Thirteen with such a strong fear on their faces that I wandered if it would be permanent. It was. I still see that fear on Bertholt's face these days. He was just eleven years old, and he killed three people. Three children. Him and Reiner both, still kids themselves, murdering schoolchidren with gas and bullets. They never came back the same, but Thirteen claimed it was necessary, like it was a coming of age thing. It wasn't meant to send a message to the Capitol as much as it was to send a message to Bertl and Reiner.

Well, this is a message. This is our initial attack, and more will follow. It will continue until the Capitol surrenders and the city is ours. This is but the first step in saving Panem. Think of all the Districts that will rally behind us in this revolution. My eyes shimmer with the thought of President Snow's head on a pike and his mansion burned to the ground. I am crying. Why am I crying? I rub aggressively as my eyelids, smearing my thumb with a moist coat of mascara. It hurts. I know why I'm crying and it hurts so much. These thoughts of revolution and murder, they are not my own. I am just a girl who wanted to live a normal life, a simple life. They took that from me and filled me with all their dark dreams and desires and made me into a monster. Worst part is, I don't even hate them for it. Want to know why? Because they removed the part of me that makes me hate them. They programmed me to accept it.

So I'll do the only thing I can do. I'll carry on down this path, because it is the only path. Right from the start the only thing that's been certain is that I have no choice. It's all predetermined. They gave me the illusion of choice, but I know that inside I am nothing more than a program. A weapon. When it comes to doing what they built me to do, I won't question it. I'll just switch of my emotions and let instinct take over, because what's the alternative? Give up? I've come too far to give up. I've lost too much to give up. No, I'm ready. I'll do it. I'll slaughter innocent people in the streets, painting the golden walkways with horrible red. Maybe I'll even enjoy it.

I pull on my leather boots and don my white cadet's jacket, finding the kick I needed to get out of my room and head downstairs. The headquarters are still empty. A few half-asleep cadets are getting ready for their morning patrols, but they are too distracted with their own problems to notice me walk downstairs ten minutes early. These guys would miss the apocalypse if it ever happened. How people so oblivious can be hired by the Capitol Police is beyond me. They all finished in the top ten of their training corps, yet still they're all so stupid. Maybe it's just me feeling superior. Me and my ego, huh?

I slip outside through the side courtyard, looking left and right for signs of patrols. I know that several of my superior officers walk the perimeter of the grounds, checking for signs of trespassing or of cadets leaving in the night. It's forbidden to leave the estate without permission. Plenty of young Peacekeepers have been caught leaving to hit the Capitol nightclubs. All of whom have been kicked from the force. I skip past the patrols of my superiors by dancing through the large hedge mazes of our headquarter's gardens. I duck behind each shrub, silently leaping from one cover to the next until I am out of sight and earshot. Jumping a fence, I stumble down a hill and out into the road. Freedom. Easy as that.

Traffic is nonexistent at this time of the morning, it's around six, and the sun has barely poked it's head past the skyline. The pink sky stretches overhead, gradienting into white behind me. Soon the city will be buzzing with life. People going to work, or simply out to shop. The more people the better. Crowds mean cover, and I hope to be a face in the crowd by the end of the day. I head east down Style Street. A few Capitolites are already out and about doing an early morning shop. Some shoot me strange looks, questioning my attire, but when they see the Peacekeeper's emblem, them relax. I am here for their protection, right? How far they are from the truth.

I find an alleyway between the pet shop and the boutique, it is perfect. I pull my white hood over my head and slip into the shadows, searching the side of the hair salon. I locate the large black box further down the alleyway and immediately try to pry it open. It's fastened shut by specially designed bolts. Yellow stickers with lightning bolts on them warn me of the dangers inside, but I ignore them. It's the danger I'm after.

I slice open the weak metal with my twin blades, stepping back to view the circuitry. As I slot my swords back into the holster of my 3DM gear, I wander if Armin would have done the same, or been more subtle. Obviously they'll find the damage eventually. I figure it doesn't really matter, they'll be more concerned with the body. My body.

I strike the wiring, cutting open the multicolored wires into copper strands that begin to spark in protest. The power that surges through the veins of this system is now exposed, bleeding electricity into the air. Danger, High Voltage. Ripred, I could kill myself here. I can handle it, right? It's just a couple of volts. I take a deep breath, lick my palms, and grab a handful of bare wire. I see white. The shock knocks me off my feet and slams me into the brick wall opposite, rendering me unconscious.

"Armin, I'm not who you think I am."
I see his face, so neutral and at peace. He is so impartial and unjudging. He is my friend, Armin Arlert. He deserves to know the truth about me, and so I will tell him.
"I am from District Thirteen."
There, I said it. He now knows. Saying it to him is a relief. Someone else finally knows the truth about me, and it's a massive weight off my shoulders. Sharing that secret is sharing the burden, and there's no one else I'd share it with other than him. He is my rock. He makes me feel human.

He is dressed all in white, so pure and untainted, like an angel. I am in my cadet gear - Leather jacket draped over me loosely, hair tied up in a bun. How did we get here? What was I doing before this? I was on a mission, right? For Thirteen. I was doing something important. Eh. I don't care now. I'm with Armin, and I'm telling him my biggest secret. I'm almost excited to see how he responds. I want to see the lightbulb in his head as he figures it all out, and that little smile when he understands what's been bothering him this whole time.

There is no smile, no emotion in his eyes. He is empty, his face is dead. It's like a blackness inside him becomes external, spreading over his pristine white clothing, a black stain on his purity. It pools like blood, thick and heavy.
"Armin?" I plead desperately, placing my hand on his arm. He collapses, black veins decorating his face and neck in a chilling pattern. I scream as all color and life leaves him.
"Armin, please!" I shake his body, tears stinging in my eyes. His skin begins to dry up like a moulding fruit, turning grey and rippled. What is happening? Is he having some kind of allergic reaction?

You are a curse, Annie Leonhardt.
The voice is inside myself, but when I look up I see their bodies around me, dark faced and red eyed, closing in. My comrades, or rather the people I have betrayed. My friends. Mikasa, Levi, Eren, Jean, Historia. They close in on me, blaming me. Fear grips my chest, dragging me closer to the ground. I get what I deserve. I get what I deserve.

"Fuck." My left arm is completely numb, but when I jolt upright in my hospital bed I feel a strange sensation shoot through it. I am short of breath, snatching at the thin air in my ward. It was just a stupid dream. I bite my lower lip, trying to bury it deep inside me. Just a dream. Where am I? Obviously the hospital - I grabbed exposed wiring from a transformer and knocked myself out. That was part of the plan. This is still part of the plan.

I groan, trying to sit upright. The nurse notices I am awake and wordlessly helps rearrange my pillows. I stretch my toes, rubbing the underside of one over the other like I have been invigorated by the rest - Truth is I feel exhausted. Being electrocuted isn't fun. Being electrocuted by an industrial transformer, I'm lucky to be alive. Thank Ripred I had rubber lined boots on. The knockback into the brick wall did more damage to me, in the end.

"Well, Miss Leonhardt, I have good news and bad news," The doctor arrives, dressed in an angelic white coat and trousers. He looks a model professional. The only thing that sets him apart is his blue hair, which is styled upwards like icicles. How stupid. I don't really want his opinion - I know I'm fine. My arm might be fucked but I can work around that. The sooner he is done talking the sooner I can be left alone. You see, it's important that I stay in hospital. It's important that people think I'm in hospital. When people ask where I was when dozens were massacred in the streets of the Capitol, they won't question medical documents.

"The good news is you're not dead. What you were doing fooling around with electrical equipment of such power, I will never know. Your arm has some bad burns from the electricity which, unfortunately, will stay with you for the rest of your life, but that is a small price to pay given the circumstances!" His accent is whispy and yet slick, each syllable rolls to the next in a way that I don't think I could impersonate. I examine my left arm, unsure whether it was worth doing. Red tissue zig-zags from my wrist to my elbow, much like a vein but in fact it is mutilated skin. I screw up my face. I might have to see a plastic surgeon later.

"The bad news is you aren't in a stable enough condition to leave for a few days. We need to run some tests on your heart rate and blood pressure, and some other general examinations to be sure you are otherwise unaffected by this." He jots down a few notes on his clipboard and gives me a fake smile, "I will leave you to rest - I believe a friend of yours left you a change of clothes whilst you were unconscious. How considerate of him. You are lucky to have such friends!" He leaves the room after he is done talking, and I notice the bag he was referring to. I reach over and pull it towards me.

As planned, my gear is all inside. Helmet, armor and extending sword. Thanks Bertholt. I will need to wait for a suitable window before I leave. I need to learn the patterns in which the nurses come in to check up on me, so that I am not absent when they come in. I also need to actually recover from the shock. My heart is still racing in my chest, and my scarred arm is numb, although some feeling has started to return. I'm not fully fit. You're gonna have to be, Annie.

After lying in bed for three or four hours, I note that the nurses check up on me every half hour. This means I have a thirty minute window to get out, do what needs to be done, and get back. Thirty minutes is plenty of time. If there is one attribute I am proud of, it is my speed and agility. They won't know what's hit them, these poncey Capitolites will learn what it is to live in fear. That is our aim - To strike fear. Basic terrorism. I wait for the next check up. The nurse checks my blood pressure and tops up my water, before asking if I want any food. I politely decline, wanting nothing more than for her to leave. Leave me to my fate. She does, and I take out my helmet.

I get out of the hospital bed, barefooted on the cold tile flooring. I am naked except for a baby green robe that hangs like paper on my frame. I pull on the thin nylon of my armor, attaching the carbon fibre disks to the exterior. I hold a small remote in my right hand - Taking a deep breath I press a button, which activates the circuitry in my suit. Tiny needles worked into the material unhinge and dig into my body, directing a current from the suit's processor to my muscles, allowing increased movement and power. The processor is located at the tip of the spine, on the back of my neck. It is vulnerable and exposed, so I slip the bright white helmet over my head, for additional protection (and to hide my identity, of course).

Three years since I last wore this suit. I trained in the ruins of Thirteen's overground for so long, slashing at the ash statues with such anger and fury that my superiors were sure they had crafted the perfect weapon. I was so full of hatred back then. So young and naive. I am a woman now, playing soldier in the Peacekeeping brigades of Panem. I have friends and enemies, and much more to lose than I did back then. I open the window and lean out, looking to the skyline through the tinted visor of my helmet. I hope I'm everything they hoped for.

forgive us now for what we've done
started out as a bit of fun
here take these before we run away
the keys to the gulag

[ᴥ]

Ever since I could remember,
everything inside of me,
Just wanted to fit in
I was never one for pretenders,

The stables smell of musty hay and disappointment. Tired hands clutching the wooden hilt of an old broom as I made the trek around decaying frames and disgruntled animals. I blamed myself, more than anything. After all, a soldier who fails to follow orders is a useless soldier. Even so, I can feel an electricity in the air. A certain anticipation that brings me to the edge of paranoia. Every sound echoing about the empty barn sending frozen fingers crawling down my spine. I've trained far too hard to let such fear hinder me. In fact working under extreme stress is one of my specialties. Years of training with Heichou has numbed me to the scalding breath of fear against my cheeks. It was no problem, however misplaced the feeling might be.

No, it's not the settlings of an old building and the creaking of molding wood that disturbed me. It's the constant feeling of eyes upon my neck, searching the unlit corners only to find nothing. The distinct feeling of being watched.

Surely a soldier's paranoia, years of watching comrades fall to the hands of beasts taking its toll on the psyche. I'd often experience something similar moments before sleep overwhelmed me, or when I found myself without the company of another. Weakness is what makes one human. Imperfection can prove as great an ally as your squad. I've seen far too many with empty eyes. Allowing a shell of pure apathy to trap a person in endless nothing. Allowing them to become something far less than human. After all it is the fear, the pure adrenaline which keeps you alive in the most hopeless of situations.

I take pride in my humanity.

Having done my share of work for the day, I find myself gravitating toward the only friend inhabiting this dreary place. Work has taken me all across Panem, into the most difficult of terrains. Ones certainly not able to be trekked by humans alone. I didn't dare think of the others, crawling through the forests and preparing to face some unknown monster. It causes my heart to ache with worry, and perhaps a slight yearning. It'd take many months to earn back Heichou's trust, but I'd never have such an opportunity again.

The coarse wood scrapes the palms of my hands and I'm careful to make sure none the moldy shards embed themselves in my skin. This stable was in shambles, barely livable conditions for the steeds sheltered within. The capitol wasn't used to such old fashioned transportation, however, and this was the best they could provide.

His coat has turned a dull cream after what looked like a restless night's sleep. The dust was disturbed about his hooves and his eyes were bloodshot. "You feel it too, buddy?" My voice is little more than a whisper, as not to startle the frazzled stallion. Arms snake around his broad neck, cheek resting against his velvety coat. King was perhaps the only thing I trusted more than Levi Heichou.

My fingers comb his tangled mane, humming gently as I begin to groom him. It was nice to let my mind wander, with company whom I felt safe. Hard as I tried to keep my mind off the mission, it seemed I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was never one to give up, and it seemed such a mindset had followed me. I had half a mind to grab my gear and follow the Bastards. I didn't trust any of them to keep their asses safe. Perhaps my presence wouldn't do much in the long run, but I could be the difference between a life saved or lost. I'd been too late too many times to count, but... how could they just leave me here? Was I not a competent soldier? Was I not good enough?

I possessed neither the brash intelligence of Levi nor the leadership skills of Erwin, but I'll be damned to just let myself rot on the sidelines like this. I was not a captain or a commander, I was a soldier. I was just as good as they and I would surely prove it.

Just like that, determination was lit anew. A spark that refused to be ignored. Shaking hands rake themselves through a mess of ginger strands. What I was going to do was nothing but a vague idea. Jumbled thoughts and desires that I could make hide nor hair of. Following the others was impossible at this point, not to mention I'd most likely be brutally massacred by Heichou himself. A fate I was very much opposed to. Technically, I had done what he'd asked. It was second nature to clean quickly and clean well, quite honestly I faced worse messes than these stables on a daily basis.
I wasn't disobeying orders. Therefore, I couldn't possibly get into any more trouble with the captain... right.

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, I've said my goodbyes to King and enter the open air once again. The smothering scent of horse dung disappearing in the wind, I feel no relief from the weight that has plagued me since the others left. I'd not seen Ymir, another unfortunate soldier left behind or even Capitol Police lingering about. I was alone-vulnerable. And more importantly, I felt that I shouldn't be.

Unknown urgency carries me to the locker rooms, where my own gear was stored carefully behind heavy bars. Fingers fumble about the heavy lock, heart pounding with anxiety that had not visited me for many months. Not since witnessing the last soldier fall in my arms.

"Heichou I can't stop the bleeding!" My eyes stung with tears I refused to release. Hands pounded against the man's chest, lips locking around his as I attempted to keep air flowing through his lungs. Bitter blood stained my lips, his rasping breaths gurgling with it as the crimson slowly trickled into his throat. "You'll be okay." I promise, "The captain will be here soon." We both know my words mean nothing. As great a person as Levi Heichou was, he couldn't bring a man back from the dead. I didn't know this soldier well. I didn't care about that. He wasn't on my squad but he had volunteered to take on such a dangerous mission. What would happen if he didn't return home?

The memory leaves me as soon as the heavy lock clatters onto the floor. My muscles tense to the point of pain, my hand scraping against a jagged bar. "Fuck!" The curse echoes throughout the hall, a grim reminder of just how alone I was. Nothing but hollow walls and closed doors to hear my cry. What an utterly depressing thought.

A few beads of blood gather upon the scratch. yet it does little to faze me. An annoyance, nothing more. I've always had a high tolerance of pain, of my own pain, anyways.

The weight of the 3DMG against my hips is one I welcomed. With it, I was in my element. I was safe. Whatever danger hid in the shadows today would have a hell of a time coming after me. And that's if I don't find it first.

I'm only a man
with a candle to guide me,
I'm taking a stand
to escape what's inside me.

ooc: was looking at ur coding for reference and accidently saved instead of backing out, which is why it says "edited by me"

[rook]

I haven't felt this good in a long time. My specially designed slimline Titan suit feels like a second skin. Every detail meticulously designed to make me superhuman. The tiny needles embedded into the fabric project inwards, into my skin tissue and into my muscles, enhancing their durability and smashing their limits. I am stronger, faster and more agile than I was before. With this suit, I am more than just a weapon, I am unstoppable.

I have half an hour. That is my window. I have to get to the main streets, fulfil my task and return to the hospital in under thirty minutes, or risk throwing my identity and safety into jeapordy. I can do this. I am a child of Thirteen, grown and moulded specifically to kill in the most creative and efficient ways. I was chosen for this. Me, out of all the hundreds of children that lived in the dark, deep underground. We all wanted to step out into the light and have a purpose. We were all so scared that we would die in the very tomb we called home. It can't all be for nothing. I can't let their dreams die along with mine. I will do this.

My left arm stings like hell. Each pulse of my heart sends waves of pain through my body, and shocks down my arm. I grit my teeth, trying not to think of the pinky-red scar tissue that zigzags up my arm. I can't have scars, for they are proof that you have been hurt. I must appear untouched and pure. I can't let them know I am a warrior. When this is over, and I return to the hospital, I will get a plastic surgeon to tidy it up. Not until my task is complete can I can worry about scars, bruises and other after-affects of slaughter.

The day is bright, but through my tinted visor I can see every slope and slant before me. I hop from rooftop to rooftop, dancing towards the city circle, timing each leap and sprint perfectly. My muscles feel strong, the suit lets me jump further and higher than I was able to before. I am superhuman.

I leap over another rooftop, throwing my momentum forward and feeling my entire weight above myself as I flip over my head, and then twist sideways, towards the side-edge of the building. I reach out a hand, catching the ledge and stopping dead. I balance on my one hand, all my weight above me. I look down at the busy streets below. This is the place of the attack. This will be where District Thirteen makes its mark. I am so high above them all. They are like tiny multicolored insects. I will crush them with a force that they have never seen before. I hope Snow watches the footage of what is to come. I hope he soils his old-man briefs in fear of me. I hope he knows that this blood is on his hands, not mine. He has lived on the suffering of Panem for too long. It is time that he suffers some.

I let my weight fall as I topple off the building. I reach my hand out, a carbon fibre glove grips at the wall, cracking through the brick like it is sand. My fall slows as I glide down the building, leaving a trail of rubble in a vertical line on the wall. I push off and land with both feet on the concrete. There are gasps, the people around me scramble away in disbelief. A strange masked figure is before them, and what do they all do? They stare. A circle forms around me, the Capitolites keeping their distance, not out of fear but out of curiosity. They are a vile breed. For years they have watched their precious Hunger Games, not because they are forced to, but out of choice. Today they will see murder first hand.

I draw out my extending sword, thin but durable. There are ooo's from the growing crowd. They flock to me like I am some street performer. I frown, screwing up my nose - What are they? They believe that they live in a life where they are so safe that even when the danger is right in front of them, they do not even consider it dangerous. People across Panem live in fear of the Capitol, but here there is no fear. They do not even know what fear is. I move to the nearest Capitolite, grabbing a fistfull of his fudge colored hair. I swipe true and fast, with a flash of silver and red. His body falls to the floor, but the head remains where it was.

Then the crowd understand. They scream.

[ᴥ]

i don't wanna be the girl
who laughs the loudest
or the one
who never wants to be alone

The screams were faint at first, a gentle tugging in the back of my skull as I dozed in an empty office. What were the chances of everything going to shit the moment Special Ops had left on a lengthy mission? A skeptic's intuition, perhaps, but I was sure that couldn't be a coincidence. I gave my head a shake, trying to rid myself of the gruesome echoes. I wouldn't believe such a thing was happening, I simply refused.

The screams did not fade. They increased in volume, warping and twisting into that of pure terror. I hadn't heard such guttural cries in years; whatever was happening outside these four walls was pandemonium. There's always been a divide between the persona I put forward every day and the hardened soldier I've come to identify as. They're two completely separate entities, existing on parallel planes. While I cannot be one without the other, they'll never collide. That might just break me completely.

Like a switch, I felt instinct grab me by the hand. Icy tendrils numbing my feet as I was pulled out of the safety that was headquarters. Emotion is to come later, at night when I lie alone. When I try to bury my head under the pillow to escape whatever nightmare lay ahead of me, that is when it will strike. For now my face is made of the smoothest marble, not a single expression allowed past the shield I'd created.

My hand grabs that of a fleeing Capitolite, slender fingers easily wrapping around his wrist. "Tell me what's going on." I can see the panic laced within every wrinkle he'd tried to hide. This man must not have run like this in years, the way he was panting and gasping. These are the people I protect.

"This b-bitch!" He sputters, desperately attempting to break my grasp. "It's gonna kill us all- just LET. ME. GO." A disgusting amount of tears and snot are running down his chins, spilling onto his suit and my sleeve. I can almost hear Heichou's voice somewhere in the distance. Tch. Filthy. I'd have laughed had this man not been my only hope at figuring out what was going on.

"Just tell me where it is and I'll let you go." I have to stop myself from audibly sighing. The capitolites can send children off to war every year and yet when they face any sort of danger themselves they become about as useless as a toddler. In-between sobs and muffled speech, he points me to the heart of the city.

Whatever-whoever was causing such a ruckus had guts. That made them all the more dangerous.

I couldn't make my way through the fray on foot, and luckily I didn't need to. A gentle pull of the triggers attached to empty sword hilts, and within seconds I am flying. The machine at my hips propels me forwards, welcoming me into the air like an old friend. I missed you too. For a moment I allow myself to enjoy the exhilaration that was flying. The hooks attach to buildings like the claws of some benevolent beast, sending expensive concrete tumbling to the ground like Winter's first snow. No doubt that'd be taken out of my paycheck later.

The euphoria doesn't last long, however, and in what feels like only a second I've reached it. The smell alone was enough to make my stomach churn. Like rotting iron and damp fur, it surrounded me like a blanket. I gagged as I tried to take in a breath, the air was heavy with screams unspoken and perhaps lives cut short.

It took me far too long to register the scene below me. A mess of blood and panicked civilians. Someone was definitely hurt, or worse. You mustn't think that way. Every instinct I possess begs me to flee. My heart and head were finally in agreement: if I landed here it'd probably be the last thing I'd ever do.

Only a fool would disobey such intuition.

My feet touch the pavement without so much as a sound. When I see it, however, my stomach drops to the floor. Any initiative I had was lost the moment I screamed. It wasn't one of fright, it was nothing like the cries that had awoken me, nor one of rage that I'd heard so often simmering beneath Yaeger's words.

It stood like a villain, the ones you'd expect to see on a television screen. A sleek sword in one hand, the head of a capitolite in the other. A mask protects its identity, a suit veils any defining features. I've spent all my life slaying beasts, ones without morals or conscious thought. They kill because they know nothing else.

This wasn't a spur of the second decision, wasn't a mind snapped in two or rage uncontrolled.

This was a monster of the worst caliber. This was a human.

And so I screamed because I was appalled, my disgust and shock escaping in one mangled cry. Like lightning two hilts have collected disposable blades, a mere flash as the sun rose upon this revolting scene.

"Hey fucker!" They were the only words I could find when there were none.  

no pain up high
you're my protection
so why do i 
feel this funny sober?

[rook]

Deafening. Fire in my eyes, but there is no flame, only the burning screams of the people before me. The wind will carry their shrills over the buildings and across mountain ranges. Maybe their desperation will be heard in the Districts. Maybe those who are suffering can revel in the pain of their oppressors. The rats scatter as I clutch the head of the decapitated Capitolite, his face agape in a final, silent scream. I waste no time, immediately slashing out at a second victim. Her brilliant red blood sprays over the pavement - Bad blood, all of it. I have severed a key artery, so it only takes a shove to the ground to finish her off. I stab a third through the chest, right through his lungs and out the other side of his body. He doesn't even make a sound.

Those that run are smart - A select few stay, still thinking this to be nothing more than a street act. They live so comfortably that even when they see murder on the streets they think it's a game. They don't believe any of this is real. I slice another head clean from it's shoulders, but they still don't get it. I kill them all, one by one, and they let me. They don't understand - They don't think I am a danger. That's the world they live in. Extreme comfort. I stand victorious, nine bodies on the ground, two heads rolling and a third in my hand.

"Don't fuck this up, Annie," The voice in my ear last night - Of course they are aggressive and to the point, they always are. Always at a bad time too. I am sober now, and I realize that engaging with Armin may have been a mistake, but god-damn, now I'll never know what could have been in my bedroom. Armin and I would have. Could have. I break out in a sweat inside my suit - Must be the pressure. Simple command - Get it right first time, no mess, no complication. Nine is a nice square number, and it will be enough to get the message of terrorism across to Snow and his pathetic puppets. Nine deaths, and this is but a prelude of what is to come. My comrades are coming, just when you think you are safe. Just when you are done mourning these nine. Just when you stop looking over your shoulder. You will never be safe ever again. Not whilst we walk this earth.

So many screams, so loud. Any words spoken in this storm of shrill noise would be lost on me. It somewhat fades as the crowd get further and further from me. I am left in my own little bubble of silence for a few seconds. I tilt my head back and look to the sky. No hovercraft yet - But soon Peacekeepers will be here, and I'll be here for the taking. I have fifteen minutes before my nurse returns to my ward. I have to be there. It would be tempting to kill more, very tempting. No, I'm done. It's time to get out of here. My mission is complete.

"Hey fucker!"
I stop drop the head, letting it crack and roll along the stark red pavement. I turn my head slightly. Uniform, 3D manoeuvre gear, green cape. I grit my teeth. They were supposed to be on a mission to District Seven - Who got left behind? This throws everything off balance. With the 3DMG, that Peacekeeper won't let me out of her sight. I can't escape without taking her down. Ripred damn, I didn't want to have to hurt anyone I know. I turn to face her, immediately recognizing Petra Ral. She must have pissed off Heichou pretty badly to get left behind. I whirl my sword around a few times, before gripping it backhand. I'm sorry Petra, but you're in my way.

And you must be eliminated.

I move my right hand to my waist and throw down a small white ball that instantly sprays a harmless smokescreen. I swirl to the floor, vanishing in the cover. I coil up my legs, thumping a fist to my chest, increasing the muscle stimulation. The microscopic needles dig deep into my muscle tissue, and I wince through the agony. It will be worth it. I uncoil, kicking off with my legs into a full sprint. I grip my sword backhand and crouch, pushing up and leaping into the air. I shoot from my veil of smoke, flying in the air towards Petra Ral. With all my momentum, I drive my knee into her jaw.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

[ᴥ]

All I am is a man
I want the world in my hands
I hate the beach
But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

Pain. It spread like wildfire, the shock of its strike sending me reeling backwards. A sickening pop reverberates throughout the square as I adjust my jaw, the fluid having built around the bone dispersing in an instant. It wasn’t the deep throbbing making its way through my head, nor the sight of this creature that frightened me as much as the aspect of failure. If I did not stop this monster, here and now, would it continue its massacre? Would hundreds- thousands – of innocent lives be lost due to my own incompetence? This thing could have been stronger, could have surpassed me in swordsmanship and agility, but I would not falter. What little humanity was left within this creature could not stand against my own. I wasn’t fighting simply for my own life, though admittedly that too hung in the balance but for the lives that were yet to be lost. The children and the innocents who deserved nothing of the hell it was putting them through. I felt their hearts beating in unison with my own, tightening the grip upon my weapon.

Wind has carried the smoke away, the cheap maneuver would not work on me again. Its pathetic cowardice would no longer save it. Pain has blurred my vision, eyes watering and neck throbbing, I push on. It stands in front of me, and though only an instant has passed, I can feel its unseen eyes burning into my flesh. If I didn’t move first, the thing would once again gain the upper hand and the battle would be lost. The monster deserved worse than death, of that I was sure. As easy as it would have been to strike to kill, I wanted to take this thing down. Force it to face the crimes it’d committed and to rot in a cell for the rest of its existence. I will not strike to kill.

It wears a helmet, but the suit seems skin tight. It conforms to its body, allowing it to move with little hindrance. For armor to do such, protection must be forfeited to some extent. With a hard enough blow I could stun it, I was sure. I move with such speed the cape around my neck vibrates violently, as though in a strong wind when there was none. I dodge the mess upon the concrete, bringing my sword high into the air. Adrenaline brings forth a wave of raw strength, striking diagonally so that my hilt would connect with its temple I carry out my plan.

I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Whatever technology it possessed was something I’d never seen. The monster was less than dazed, my blow not even denting its armor. ”Fuck.” My wrist stings from the rebound, adding yet another layer of pain. This battle would be lost, had I not get the upper hand – and fast. It was time to bring this brawl to my own territory. While the creature had some sort of super-suit, I had wind on my side. Within seconds I could be soaring through the air, be able to avoid its strikes completely and buy myself some time to figure out just how I was going to damage this thing. All I had to do was get in range of a building…

My strike had brought me far too close to the creature, away from any buildings my 3DMG could latch onto. While its head seemed heavily protected, perhaps I could so something to distract it. Less than a moment having passed since my failed attack, I once again gather my strength. It’s all I can do to push pat the pain which seems to be shattering my entire being. The prospect of failure is the only thing allowing me to continue, not to crumple to the ground from both shock and injury. I’ll give it no satisfaction of knowing what it’s done to me. I keep my face expressionless as stone as I attack once more.

Blades as sharp as mine connecting full force to its abdomen should have torn through the suit. It should have coaxed a bright crimson from their skin and left a wound that would need immediate attention. It should have done more. The resistance from the armor was great. I could only manage a shallow wound – that of equal caliber to an accidental scrape – on this monster. Nonetheless I’ve achieved my goal, spinning on the balls of my feet away from danger. Knees bent, swords positioned defensively in front of me, I stare at it. ”Just what are you?” I mutter, more to myself than the creature at which it was directed, ”’Cause you’re sure as hell not human.”

'Cause it's too cold
For you here
And now

[rook]

"You're going to be a warrior, Annie," And there you are, in my head, burning like a cancer that I can't erase. No matter where I turn or look, you're there, telling me what to do and how to do it. You fucking pig. I hate you all, for what you have made me, but I don't have any other choice. It's indoctrination that I am aware of, yet cannot fight. That's the curse of what we are - We know we are monsters. It broke Bertholt, made him into a nervous wreck. Reiner forgets what he's doing, he plays at soldier and hopes it all turns out okay. Me? I guess I'm the only one getting the job done. That is, when I'm not getting drunk and kissing boys. Kissing Ar-

She lunges at me all too quickly, almost catching me mid-thought. Ripred damn it, I can't get sidetracked in my own personal memories and grudges. She flashes silver, already on top of me before I can roll away. Fuck it. Her blade twirls, almost like it is bending in mid-air. I know better - That blade is as solid as they come. Unparalleled in sharpness and balance. For the first time, I am too slow. Petra's sword strikes my helmet, and bounces off harmlessly. Of course, District Thirteen wouldn't have sent me on a mission this dangerous without protection. Her sword attacks do nothing against my carbon fibre helmet. She is knocked back, stunned. I should use this opportunity to counter-attack, and cut her in half with my blade. I do not, however. I still don't want to kill her.

Her eyes scan the buildings around us. I instantly deduce that she is thinking about using her 3DMG. Shit. That didn't even occur to me that she might go airborne. Petra's one of the highest ranking Peacekeepers in Levi's squad, and one of the most experienced too. She's five years my elder and would easily beat me if not for this super-suit.

She regroups, lashing out again. This time, she goes for my mid-section. I dart left, but she is far too quick for me. She slashes at the nylon, and surprisingly cuts through. The blue fabric tears, revealing part of my pink abdomen. Red. It is turning red. She has cut me, only slightly, but I am bleeding all the same - And that is a sign that I am human. That I am weak. I turn my head at an angle, glaring at Petra Ral through my visor. She made me bleed. I got complacent and now she knows I am human. I am compromised.

"Just what are you?" Petra mutters, almost inaudible if not for my enhanced senses, "'Cause you're sure as hell not human."
Petra, please. Tell me something I don't know. My knee drove into her jaw, almost dislocating it. Unfortunately the connection was not as clean as I would have liked. If I had shattered her jaw, I could have ended this without killing her. She would have been hospitalized for weeks. Then again, having Petra in hospital isn't idea, considering I am supposed to be in hospital too. The cover story - My alibi. If Petra was there, she might suspect me based on my current abdominal injury. It's a longshot though. I don't want to risk it.

I identify Petra's 3DMG as her biggest advantage over me, and bound fowards. In one, two steps I am by her, and with a third I twirl above her, flashing my blade in two short swipes. I land behind her and roll, turning on my heel as the belt, cannisters and spare blades all fall to the floor.
"And when the day comes when this little Warrior has to fight, I'm going to be the proudest Father in all of Panem!"
Fuck you. Get out of my fucking head.

I lunge forwards again, doing everything in my power not to let out a primal scream in the adrenaline. I drop my shoulder and swing my arm, smashing my elbow into her nose with such force that I both hear and feel a crack, and a spurt of blood. I trap my leg behind her ankle and hook her arm, throwing her backwards onto the pavement. I raise my boot and stamp down on her already broken nose.

I'm not sorry, Petra. I'll let you live, for now, if only to spread my message of terror through your ranks until fear runs ripe in the Peackeeper Headquarters. They will know of me, of what I did to you, and they will fear me.

I turn and walk away, gathering her 3DMG in my left hand and pacing towards a better vantage point.

[ᴥ]

All I am is a man
I want the world in my hands
I hate the beach
But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

There's a grimace painted across my lips as it approaches. I'm angry, angry at the lives that have been lost today, angry that this creature was seemingly unable to be damaged by my blades. Angry that there will be no justice today for the atrocities I've bore witness to. I cannot appeal to this thing's humanity because it most obviously had none. Bile rises in my throat, tears blurring my eyes. The pain is great, but it is not why I cry. Never before have I felt such blind rage. It's like a wildfire throughout my body. I'm on the ground, I can feel the pavement against my back. She kicks me like a dog who's fallen, as though I am below her, I can feel the crunch of my bones  beneath her heel but I can barely feel it. An ache in comparison to the inferno overwhelming my consciousness. It's all a haze, something I can't hope to make heads nor tails of. The pain, the pungent metallic taste upon my tongue- 

But I fight. 

I throw my weight forward, using the momentum to land on my feet. My movements are unsteady at first, the world spinning around me as I gather my bearings. It seems this thing has underestimated me, my gear in hand as it paces away. Disgusting, cowardly thing it was. Did it know nothing of honor? Of dignity? A soldier will not give up so easily, despite being on her last leg. I could be breathing my final breaths right now and I would still battle this monster. I've fought mutts and humans alike, I've had comrades die in my arms. It'd be a disgrace to sit here and watch it walk away. A disgrace to every life I've seen fade, a disgrace to the bodies littering the floor now. 

A broken blade lays upon the concrete, stained with fresh blood. The bright crimson could be my own or it could be that of the dead citizens at my feat. We are all one now, all victim's to this bastard's cruelty. I harbor their souls with every staggered breath, matted hair hanging in front of my eyes. It hurts to pick up the blade, sharp edges sinking into my palms as I hold it tight. I can feel consciousness slipping between my fingers, a gentle stream falling like the blood off my face. I've got to act quickly. 

I lunge, blade digging deep into my palm. While I do not have my gear, my feet fly across the pavement, fingers wrapping around the monster's wrist and dragging it violently towards me. It's terrifying. A monster capable of killing so many and I am bringing it closer to me. It could very well be the last thing I do, but I will not be pitied. I will not be left alive for some self-righteous need to feel like they did some good today, I will not be an exception so that they can sleep tonight. To go down fighting is an honor. The broken blade falls from my ear, a waterfall of metal dragging itself along the back of it's neck. 

My strength fades fast, black enveloping my vision with every breath. (In. Out. Spin. Out. In. Spin.) I cannot tell if we are standing or flying or running or sitting. The world becomes liquid beneath me, but I pull the blade as best I can. It sinks in with slighter ease, flame cutting into ice. I can't tell if I've hit skin, I can't tell much anymore except for the fact I have drug a broken blade across it's neck and that I've never hurt more. Heart beats pound throughout my body, I can feel it in my hands, small rivers of thick red making their way down the blade. 

For now I can only see it. I must run, I'll die. I'm going to die. My eyes fly from my bloodied hands to the creature, whose suit seems to glow unnaturally against my eyes. "Never. Underestimate. A. Soldier." I manage, dropping the blade at its feet. My open palm throbs, but I will not waver, no matter the chaos that consumes me within.

You can take my wings.

Instinct turns me around, forcing me to fumble through darkness in my half-conscious state. I run because I must. I run because they're in danger and I have to tell them. My squad mates. My family. 

You can tear them from my back.

I'm going to fall. My knees are weak but I've never run so fast in my life. It can catch up easy, I'm sure. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm going to die. 

But I will always find a way to soar.

I do not slow, not for a second.

'Cause it's too cold
For you here
And now