The Ripper | Levi x OC

Part 1: Capture

Shit.

It was unmistakably him. The bastard left his trademark—a slit from jugular to jugular. The merchant was crumpled in a puddle of blood that seeped through the grout like a web. The officers milling the crime scene drew sketches and made reports.

Levi stared down at the corpse with folded arms and narrowed eyes.

He was next on the list. That didn't worry him; he could handle Kenny. But he knew he wouldn't be the only one in danger.

He needed to act fast.

* * *

"The interior?" Karma sprang from her chair. It screeched against the floor. "What the hell? What did I do?"

"Karma, you know better than to question a direct order." Captain Levi glared at the girl over the rim of his tea cup. He drew a deliberately long sip, hoping the silence might defuse her. But it only kindled the fire.

"This is stupid—you're not even listening to me. Stop drinking that damn tea!" She kicked his desk, rattling the saucers.

"You're dismissed, soldier."

"No, you can't just—"

"Hange, please escort Karma to the barracks. And make it quick—the carriage is waiting."

A hand tugged Karma's elbow toward the hall. She managed to sling a few more threats in the Captain's direction before the door slammed between them.

"Ugh! That jerk." Karma gritted her teeth together.

"Forget him. It's just temporary anyway. C'mon, let's pack your things." Hange laid a calming hand on Karma's shoulder and her body deflated like a squashed cushion.

Karma was hardly aware of what she was grabbing as she shoved her belongings into a duffle bag. A pink hairbrush. Some socks. A novel for the carriage ride. Then she was led to the pull-around where a single-horse carriage was waiting. The horse brayed and hoofed the cobblestone, impatient.

"I'm going, I'm going." Karma climbed inside and settled the duffle bag on her lap.

"We'll see you later. Alright?" Hange said with a reassuring smile.

"Sure thing. Oh, will you pass along a message to Levi?"

"Of course."

"Tell him—" Karma flicked up her middle finger. Hange cracked a smile.

"Will do."

The carriage took off.

The novel no longer sounded interesting. Karma passed the minutes with her hand tucked to her chin, staring out the window. Greenery blurred. Voices shuffled by. She sucked in a yawn.

A few miles down the road, they hit a small pothole.

The carriage jostled, rocking Karma's head from window to window. She gripped her bag to steady herself and fiddled with the end of her braid, a nervous habit she'd never quite shaken. Suddenly, they jolted and lurched to an odd angle like one of the front wheels had disappeared.

A gunshot. A man's abrupt scream. A heavy thump outside her left window.

The carriage door opened. A scraggly, long face with a devilish smile poked inside. The man was middle-aged and dressed like an outlaw with a white banded bowler hat. Karma's sweaty hands slipped on the leather seat as she scrambled to the opposite wall. The man whistled.

"Aren't you a pretty thing? I'm sure the boy won't mind if we borrow you for a minute."

The butt of a gun flashed towards her and everything went black.