⥓ Vicious Ackerman ⥒

Chapter One: Levi Ackerman

This work is also being written on Ao3. Please do not repost my work anywhere else. Disclaimers were in the summary, but I'll say it again here. Attack on Titan and its characters and plot are owned by Hajime Isayama. I own the cover art and fanfiction plot.

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No matter how hard he scrubbed, the blood just wouldn't come off.

Breathing shallow, throat burning and eyes blurry was the state Levi was in on his 23rd seventeenth birthday.

This sort of thing had happened before (obviously). The short boy wasn't exactly surprised. The bleach that was being poured onto his irritated fingers was burning like hell. The skin on his hands was perpetually lightened in patches because of this exact predicament. He just-

It's all in your head, a voice whispered behind him. She sounded kind. She sounded like-

He slammed down the jug to catch his breath. The freezing cold water that ran from the rusty tap was stopped with a twist of its knob and his wrist. He trembled with immense effort, gripping the counter even though his hands ached and burned and you should probably fix that.

The was no light, the sun having set long ago. The Ackerman was inside of his personal bathroom at headquarters, awoken after three nightmares and blood on his hands.

He looked down again. The only blood he saw was his own, now. It was better than leaving the remaining bits of his mother's ghost to stick to his palms.

When he muffled her coughs, his hands came back red. Red. Redred. Redredredred-

"You're too loud," he sobbed. "They'll find us."

Kuchel's head lolled backwards in response to Levi's messy pleading.

The bandages took a few minutes too long to apply for the teen's liking. He'd probably have to wear his gloves tomorrow. Tomorrow and the day after. Just until the burns healed.

The sloppy 23 that was carved into his forearm caught his eye. Any remnants of his previous mood were gone to be replaced by hollow longing and confusion. How many times had this cycle of cleansing been repeated? Many years (over 300). Many lifetimes (it's now 23). The worlds had always been slightly different, though.

His first life had been the most memorable. He remembered everything up until the female titan's containment in Stohess, though he couldn't remember how he had died. His mind was hazy from his infected ankle. At least it had been mildly painless. He had been thirty-four.

Every time he had woke up as a child in his mother's arms, the world had just been a little bit more different. The most memorable ones were where Hange hadn't existed, or when the universe and its characters had been set two thousand years into the future. Each time, he had gotten better and better at titan-killing. He had refined it down to a perfect art. It was practical; and now, he was almost invincible to the mindless zombies.

He had found out their secret long ago, though, he was still missing multiple pieces. He knew that they had been humans, though, that didn't stop him from crushing them like bugs. He knew there were nine intelligent titans, though, he wasn't exactly sure how they came to be. It didn't matter. Their humanity was lost. They proved it each time Farlan and Isabel were murdered.

He had lived every way he could think of. He had committed suicide twice. He had lived out his life after completing his long-time goal a few times. Once, he had refused to join the corps, and he had been locked away until he had rotted. He'd killed everyone once. Levi knew by now that he had gone insane.

He hasn't been eaten by a titan yet though, and he didn't plan to be. No matter how much of his sanity he still held, he wouldn't let himself go that far. He shivered in disgust at the mere thought of it.