Angel With A Shotgun [Levi Ackerman x OC] / Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Code XXI: The Comfort of Expression

Xora hastily finished her goodbyes to Piquet before she rushed out of the shop. It was a struggle to stop herself from dashing as quickly as she could to the car, but she maintained her composure, stuffing the parcel as swiftly as she could into her bag. She broke into a brisk walk, heading straight for the other end of town. With a quick glance to her watch, she realized that she only had a few minutes until the twenty minute mark, speeding up her pace.

When she reached a spot in the town where it was sparse in population, she broke out into a run—only to suddenly crash face-first into the broad chest of a burly-looking man. Xora's gaze met the beady stare of a sleazy man; a moment too soon, she realized this was one of the men giving her strange looks from the alleyways earlier. From behind him stepped out two more crooks, their faces stuck in smug grins.

"Excusez-moi," Xora said with as much force as she could, taking notice that there were only fifty-five seconds on the clock.

"You are excused," the man in front of her drawled in rough French.

"I will be on my way to, then," Xora excused, side-stepping the man, but he followed her movements, again blocking her passage down the path. Alarm buzzed through her body; only thirty-five seconds left.

"Why are you so leaving so quickly?" the man drawled, flashing her a smile. Every word he spoke seemed to last hours. "We're so lucky to meet such a beautiful woman. Why not grab a drink with me and my men? I know a great place with the best alcohol. Let's have some fun."

"No, thank you." Again, Xora side-stepped him, and he mimicked her once more, but Xora was at the end of her rope. Her time was up; she was already five seconds past the mark. Levi would surely be worried, now. "Really, I must get going."

"Come on," the clueless man insisted. "Loosen up! I'll even treat you for the first three rounds. Maybe if you're lucky I'll take care of the fourth and fifth."

"Please excuse my rude manners, but I really must be going now. I will be late to my plans and that will be disastrous. Let me go." And with that she tried to weave past the bulky man, easily being able to wind around his leg before he noticed. After him, she encountered another one of his croons, also skipping past him and the third.

Now it was the thirty second minute mark, but someone gripped Xora's arm and whipped her back around. It was the third man, a taunting sneer upon his face.

"What's the rush, sweetie?" he crooned, revealing his own set of rotting teeth; his breath rank of cigarettes. "It's really rude to run away after we offer to pay for your drinks. You're coming with us, alright?"

"Release me," Xora quivered, her enlarged eyes stuck on where the man's grimy hand gripped her flesh. She was frozen, all of her muscles tensed.

"Anglais?" the first man from before piped up, approaching her with heavy steps. The heels of his boots dragged against the pavement, leaving dark skid marks.

"I said, unhand me, you filthy vermin!" Xora exploded. She leapt up and whipped her foot around, smashing the heel of her shoe into her captivator's jaw. He cried out in astonished pain and let go of her arm, falling backward and crashing into the man behind him. The first man, the one with golden teeth, barreled towards her in an unsure fashion, fear and shock in his gaze. Xora easily let one of his punches glide past her face and drive her elbow into his gut, tearing a loud oof! from his throat.

He crumpled to his knees just when the other two were beginning to recover, staggering to their feet. Xora was quicker, though; she launched off of her feet and roundhouse'd the one in the front, casting him aside. With the last one left standing, Xora did the most simple thing she could think of: she lifted her foot and landed a jab straight in the groin. Such force caused the man to choke with pain and wither to the ground—but that was not the end of it.