The Ripper | Levi x OC

Part 3: The Underground

It was always night in The Underground. Pillars like ancient tree trunks sprouted into the dark, earthy ceiling that acted as a starless sky.

From afar, it was almost beautiful with its Victorian buildings and torchlit streets. But up close, the streets were rundown. Litter, beggars, pungent cigarette smoke with nowhere to vent. Cracked plaster, rodents, uneasy distrust of all passersby.

The feeling of this godforsaken world was familiar, like the feeling of his Scout cloak on his shoulders. But the memories of fighting for meals and thieving for survival weighed on him as if the familiar cloak were drenched in cement.

Levi had promised himself he'd never return.

But here he was, roaming the streets that toughened and scarred him. For her.

It was impossible to identify who was or wasn't homeless—everyone was filthy. That was something Levi prided himself on, keeping clean. The habit was so ingrained now that it'd become a staple of his character. And brushing past grimey pedestrians and shopkeepers in his polished ODM gear and pressed uniform made him squirm in his skin. But Karma's duffle bag bumped against his hip with every nudge of a dirty elbow or cloud of pipe smoke, pushing him onward.

He found Kenny's hideout—at least, his old one. He suspected Kenny wouldn't relocate since the whole point of kidnapping Karma was to lure Levi in. And he'd fallen for it without a second thought, just as Kenny predicted. Damn the bastard.

It was a rundown three-room shack. The busted doors and windows were boarded up with plywood and quilts. Levi kicked the door to splinters, glad to leave something for Kenny to patch up later. He'd tear the place to nails and boards if he had to.

"Kenny!" He unsheathed his blades, entering the low-ceiling shack. The living room was a stained sofa. A fridge and hot-plate made up the kitchen. Some moth-eaten rugs were strewn on the floor as an attempt to liven up the place. Levi's foot hovered over the tassels of one when he heard someone cry out.

"Levi stop—" Then it sounded like she was screaming into a pillow.

Levi stopped. One step in front of him, he caught a glint of fishing wire. He followed the wire with his eyes to the barrel of a shotgun. Levi cursed under his breath. He'd forgotten in his desperation that he was walking into a minefield.

"Karma?" Levi remained still. "Where are you?"

"She's in here, boy." The voice pricked his temples with fire-washed needles.

Kenny.

Karma's muffled screaming intensified. Levi knew she was warning him again.

"Why don't you come meet me halfway, Kenny? It's the least you could do for making me track your sorry ass to The Underground." Levi didn't dare move a muscle in case there were more undetectable traps.

"Fair is fair."

Kenny emerged in the adjoining doorway holding a writhing Karma by her braid. Her hands were bound. Her mouth was gagged. A gun was pressed to her head.

"You bastard. Let her go."

"If you insist." Kenny shoved Karma forward. Levi caught another glint.

"Dammit, stop!"

Kenny yanked Karma's braid back just before her nose could trip the wire. "So I was right to choose her, huh?" He spread that devilish grin. Levi's grip tightened on the hilt.

"If your goal was to piss me off."

"Gotta say, you made my job easy. You handed her over on a silver platter."