I laugh as I hear the guns behind me, smashing into the houses as I turned and ran through an alley. I am just getting back from a small quest. Stealing some possessions from Sina, I'm sure the rich won't even notice. I lose my thoughts as I hear the police chasing after me. I skid into more alleys, making my path as complicated as I could. Finally, I pulled up a storm drain and dropped through, closing it behind me. I keep running. The water is disgusting, and the smell is putrid. But I have to keep running. The familiar pain in my knee is back, and it's excruciating. I don't know how long I've been running before I see a ladder leading up, and I climb it, spending quite a few minutes trying to open it.
"Hah," I mutter in a please voice to myself. "Guess those police can't handle getting dirty." I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my dark brown hair out of my eyes. I finally manage to push the cover up, and I don't bother to replace it. I'm too busy scaling a building. My foot presses on the bricks. Here in the poor sector, all the houses are falling apart. I curse as a brick falls and I lose the grip for my left foot. I look down and I find a new place. I keep going. My strong fingertips dig into the small crevices until I'm ok the roof.
I'm Eren Jaeger, well-known criminal to this land. The Democracy. I'm not sure why it's called that. My father told me that democracy was when the people ruled. We don't have that. The rest of our land is taken by titans, but, that is no longer our problem.
Our problem is now within the people. Within our new walls. The ones that I, personally helped rebuild. It never had to be this way, but it did. The person that died, that should be dead. Maybe that was the real Eren Jaeger. My street name is Trost. The first battle that humanity won.
I pass the wanted signs asking for Trost. I grin again as I run along the roof tops, sliding down the shingles before launching into the air, my 3D Maneuver Gear helping me cover ground. The wanted signs are all different. They all have inaccurate and different photos of me. I dye my hair often, and even cover my skin with mud and pig blood.
I'm not sure why I'm thinking so much on this mission, but I forget about everything when I see the shape of another person on the ground. I grin as I use my gear to soften my landing, swinging over to the person and landing on balance, right leg first.
The person is no other than my best friend. He's my tactical strategist, and he helps me with everything. He knows the schedules of the soldiers, the underground transports. He also handles ever thing financially. This is my buddy Armin.
"Armin," I start, somewhat breathless from my journey. "I'm glad you are alright. Look, I have 2,000 Notes." I pulled out the wad of green paper, handing it to the blonde.
Armin grinned at me, but that look of happiness was gone quickly. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "This is great and all, Eren, but... You should hit the showers." He said, giving me a sheepish smile.
"What do you mean, Armin. All I did was run through the sewers, like you told me." I said defensively, my tone almost teasing in a way, crossing my arms.
"I don't care what I told you! You stink like hell!" He laughed and squirmed away as I tried to hug him. "Go shower!" He said, pushing me away.
"Fine," I mumble as I enter the house that we were standing in front of. It's small. It's only one bath and one bed, but it's nice. We are lucky to afford it. I move to the bathroom, starting the water as I look at my reflection. My skin and hair is greasy with the blood, mud and fat I rubbed into it. My hair is nearly pitch black, and I touch it to recieve a nice, completely covered hand. I'm used to it though, and just rinse it away with the water. I strip down and step inside the warm water, reaching for the soap and running it along the drying substance on my body and in my hair. My hair is bleached white underneath everything. I think it has to do with something that happened along time ago.
I sigh at the memory. About why I should be dead. But I drop it. It brings too much pain to think about the bad days. I'm not interested in thinking about that anymore. Happy thoughts. I smile as the hot water beats on my back, the water dropping in murky brown into the drain.
"Two thousand notes," I said happily. "Armin and I could purchase an entire ham." I nearly drool at the thought of the food. "Poor kid probably hasn't had ham in a while.." I frown at the thought, and wish that Armin could've been given a better life. My green eyes are hidden by my eyelids as I ponder. My hands are still scrubbing in my hair, patches of mud coming off and revealing my hair.
It used to be brown. Nearly black. I look weird with such blond hair, and I like it more when it's black. Armin and I usually buy wash-away dye in case I need to change looks. I tend to use black in public. Color contacts are too expensive, so I can never get those. My eyes finally open as I turn off the water, grabbing my towel and drying my hair and body. Some parts of mud come off with the towl and the harsh scrubbing, and I shake the towl inside the shower to make less of a mess. I rinse them all down the drain, watching the clumps of dried substance leaving dark streaks on the floor. I change into my casual clothes; a green shirt and pants. I brush my hair, pulling my fingers through it sloppily. Our brush was stolen long ago, but it's not like appearance matters anymore. I quickly move to Armin, throwing my dirty clothes into a hamper on the way.
"Hey, kiddo," I mumble happily as I see him cooking something. Even though we are the same age, he always seems younger. His face is round, but his appearance is no match for his heart and brain. His strategies and courage are what keeps me going. I look over his shoulder to see him putting potatos over a fire. This is how we bake them, now. We can't afford an oven, so we just have a burner. It works well enough. "I love potatoes." I say with a grin. It truly wasn't a lie. I couldn't afford- literally- to not like any types of food.
"Eren, we have potatoes everyday. And you say that everyday. I am glad that you like them, but.. seriously, before I start calling you potato boy." Armin stares at me as he speaks, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"I can't help it! But potato boy...really?" I shake my head slightly. "Remember Sasha?"
A sad, longing look appeared on Armin's face, and I'm almost upset for bringing it up. "Yeah," was his soft reply. "She would totally kick your ass for some of these." Armin said with a grin, and I return it.
"She sure would." Was all I said, and Armin and I just sat, watching the potatoes in the oven. When we took them out, for some reason, the potatoes weren't as tasty.
We ate them anyway.
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