Hand in Hand

22. Kenny

The customers in the bar were frozen in terror, their eyes fixed on Kenny and the two silver guns he had pointed to his sides. No one dared to blink, as they were all scared it could be their last few seconds alive. Everyone knew who Kenny the Ripper was. Everyone had heard the stories of the mass murderer in the capital who killed over one hundred MPs.

Levi sat under the bar with his back pressed tightly against the old wood. His sweaty and blood-stained uniform clung to his body uncontrollably. He felt remorse towards the old barkeeper next to him as he saw a dark wet spot form in the middle of his trousers.

It was his fault for breaking into the tavern just to hide, but with his wounds, Levi knew he wasn't going to last much longer on his ODM gear. Kenny and his pack had chased him throughout the city. They spared no bullets trying to take him down either. By the end of it all, Hanji's squad members were all dead and now he was cornered. His blades wouldn't be helpful to him at this range. Any second thoughts about forcing (y/n) to stay with Hanji were gone the moment Kenny showed up.

"Where's that filthy little rat I chased in here?" Kenny yelled with a stomp of his boot.

The barkeeper quickly gazed at the wounded scout by his feet. Levi slowly brought a finger up to touch his lips and reached behind him. He quietly pulled out a shotgun with the name "Willy's Tavern" carved into the wood and pulled back on the safety trigger.

"I'm right here Kenny," he replied cautiously. "Thought you'd be dead by now."

Kenny punted the toe of his boot into the ground causing the customers to jump in their seats. "Why don't you stop hiding and show me that girly face of yours?"

Levi scoffed, amused with Kenny's lack of empathy. He touched his throbbing forehead and rolled fresh sticky blood in between his fingers.

"You just tried to put a bullet in my head," Levi replied.

"I'm just curious what color your brains are boy," taunted Kenny. When he didn't get a reply, he kept talking.

"You were always a stubborn brat and it seems you still are. Don't you want to show respect to the man who raised you, aye shrimpy?"

Levi gripped the barrel of the gun hard. "You put a knife in a seven-year old's hand and taught him to kill," he snapped. "Then, you left for good. You didn't raise me for shit, Kenny."

A burst of howling laughter erupted in the tavern. Kenny lurched over, caught in fits of laughter and coughing, and slapped his pistol on his knee three times. Then, his face went blank and he raised one hand into the air. A thick bullet shot into the roof, bits of wood raining down on the heads of the customers while screams echoed off the walls.

Kenny tipped his hat towards the petrified barkeeper and slyly smiled. "I taught you how to survive," he said through gritted teeth. "That's why you joined the scouts, ain't it? I taught you how to survive and here you are still years later, killing to survive. It's what you're good at."

"You're right, it is what I'm good at."

"But you're stupid." Kenny pulled the trigger to reload his gun. "Now, I don't expect a kid like you to know anything about adult business," he walked over to a table on his left and picked up a chair, "but I know you remember what I taught you. Have you forgotten what happens to cornered rats?"

Swinging the chair behind him, Kenny stepped forward and launched the chair behind the bar. It flew into bottles of perfectly placed alcohol, spilling wine and splinters all over Levi's lap.

"No matter where they try to go, there's always going to be someone to swoop down and kill it!"

The barkeeper began silently sobbing while Levi picked up a broken bottle at his feet. His tattered face reflected onto the chipped bottle. He looked up at the poor barkeeper and smirked.