11:11 [Miche Zacharius x Reader]

First steps

Your sleep that night was unpleasant and eventful. You were hearing a lot of disturbance coming from outside your bedroom. How come on a Sunday so many people can be outside making so many noises and keep shouting like that. You woke up from your sleep not at all restful, got out of your bed without noticing that the stains from your ceiling were replaced by a strange and long crack. It took you a long minute to realize a lot of things. The table next to you, not yours, the wardrobe, which seems as old as Ms.Flemming your neighbor from the third floor if it's possible, not yours, the clothes, not freaking yours. How come everything around you were things you didn't possess, not now or ever.

-      The fuck? You started to think. What the actual fuck?

Your heartbeat started to race as you searched for your phone that you put on your nightstand next to your bed, which obviously was not here anymore.

-      Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell? You couldn't think of any other words. Ok, I was abducted, right?

A smile slowly appears on your face as a way to try to relax. Not working. You noticed a part of a window, behind heavy curtains, which seems strange.

-      How come my abductor doesn't know the first rule, to put your victim somewhere she cannot escape? 

You slowly approached it, pushing away the curtains. You were on the first floor in front of an alley made of stone. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the whole area. It was indeed a room with a bookcase composed of 4 books, a table and two chairs, the wardrobe and two doors. One leading to a tiny bathroom, and the other to, what you deducted, the outside. Your breathing started to calm down. There were two ways out. The door and the window. Did the kidnaper was waiting outside the door waiting for you to kill you, still convinced you were abducted. It would be the only solution, you didn't drink last night, you didn't go to your fathers' apartment which was way classier. You needed to go outside now to breath which would lead you to think better. You opened the wardrobe. Few clothes were piled on top of each other. A large white shirt, black pants and the damaged boots will do for now. It was the moment of decision.

-      Door or window?

Risky but silent and logical or safer but will mostly draw the attention if you meet someone.

-      I don't wanna die today.

You took the chair and throw it at the window, creating a large hole. You put the sheets from your bed where the pieces of glass were still sharp and jumped on top. You were now outside.

-      Ok now what? Where do I – a horse-drawn carriage passed you.

Your eyes needed to adjust to what you just saw.

-      Am I in the Middle Ages or what?

You started to walk towards the end of the road where the cart disappeared. You stopped where the intersection was between your alley and what you thought was the main street. Some people were laughing on your right dressed in long dresses and aprons for some, in a wide shirt and pants similar to yours for others. To your left two men and a woman were talking loudly. They were dressed in uniforms consisting of white pants, a gray top and a brown jacket with a coat of arms behind, including a symbol that you could not make out from where you were. Strangely enough you knew you had to go and meet them to understand something. You were looking for something, someone.

-      What do I say to them? you murmured to yourself. Before you could think of something you saw yourself  tapping the shoulder of the first man, who turned to face you completely.

-      Yes ma'am, how can I help you ma'am? He asked.

-      I'm... I am ... The words wouldn't come out.

Three faces were staring at you from now on. And before you knew it, you asked where you could find Claude Duvalier. Who was he, you couldn't even answer.

- The head of the training cop's ma'am? No problem, I'll go with you. It's in my direction.

He waved as a goodbye to his colleagues and started to point you in the right direction.

The puzzled look on your face as he told you the streets quickly conveyed your concern, indicating that it would be better for him to accompany you. Once you arrived, he put a hand on your shoulder and told you that the office, you were looking for, was on the fourth floor.

-      Thank you very much, really.

-      No problem, it's my job, proudly patting his back showing his rose crest.

Fourth floor then.

You were now in front of the office, a plaque with his name on the door.

CLAUDE DUVALIER

You knocked on the door three times before you could hear a muffled "enter" from inside. Once inside you look closely around you before meeting the eyes of a tired man.

-      What can I do for you little one? He asked you.

Weird for a guy you just met to talk to you like that. After all you were... how old were you?

-      I need help sir. You paused. No, I want to help, you corrected yourself. I want to help, sir.

-      Well, we are always in need of help as you can know.

You didn't but said nothing. You were getting somewhere and deep down you knew it was the road you needed to take.

-      Do you want to train? Or are you already a trainee? No, at your age you must be just starting out. How old are you 15? 16?

-      16, sir.

Where the fuck did you find all the responses. They were freacking automatic. It wasn't you who was responding as if someone behind you were telling you what you needed to say.

-      Well, that's good! He stood up from his desk. Training doesn't start for another week. Take your time to think. Fresh blood is always needed, but we only want volunteers. As I like to say we are in a hopeless situation. We have the ability to kill the Titans. Our knowledge and our experience will be passed down through the generations to forge new blades.

-      Yes, sir.

Automatically, again. You stood upright before him up and put one fist on your chest and the other behind your back before leaving his office.

All the information, it was too much. Your mind was dizzy. Things started to mix in your head and were losing your balance. A large hand grabbed you before your knees gave out. This hand belonged to a tall man, with relatively long hair that hid, for the most part, his green eyes. In a deep voice he asked you how you were and before you could answer, your body abandoned you leaving you at his mercy. You fell into a sleep just as strange as this morning. This time, his face was anchored in your memory, his hair, his piercing eyes, his moustache and his harmless nose. Everything. You felt the need to hold on to that face. It was important. Again, you sank.