２ｎｄ Ｌｔ． Ｊｅａｎ Ｈａｖｏｃ

The words came out harshly that was expected from their discontented expressions, but he continued keeping his attention forward, trying to pay them no mind. He couldn’t let them get under his skin. Not today. He didn’t even flinch when the tannest male in the bunch plucked the cigarette out from between his lips. It was only the beginning of his irritation slowly coming to a boil. “What’s an ingrate like you got to feel bad for?” he asked, displeasure clear by the glare and the crinkle between his eyebrows as he threw the nicotine stick to the ground.

Havoc stared down at the cigarette on the ground with a near expressionless face as the smoke diminished. “What a waste,” he muttered under his breath in a sigh. And as soon as the words left his lips, he felt a rough palm shoving against his shoulder, snapping his attention back up.

“Do ya hear us talkin’, scum?” his blues eyes made contact with the one responsible for the physical contact and he appeared to be the largest male of the group, his build being a little bit larger than his own. Although he couldn’t find an ounce of care or worry that he was outnumbered and possibly outmatched. Plus, he dealt with worse in the academy. He just didn’t expect it to continue outside of it. It was disappointing, but he knew that whether he retaliated or not, he’d be the one to get in trouble. It’d be his word against the three of theirs.

“Maybe his promotion makes him think he is too good for us.” So it was jealous that spurred this little meeting on.

“This traitor doesn’t deserve to work under the hero of Ishval.” Another shove, this one more aggressive than the first, to his chest had him stumbling backward until his shoulder blades made contact with the building behind him, but interest now sparked within the anger coating his eyes. He hadn’t actually heard who his commanding officer was since he was to find out today.

“Hero of Ishval?” Havoc asked with curiosity naturally coating every syllable. He had stayed as far away from the stories and rumors of Ishval that he didn’t know anything of the declared ‘heroes’.

Most of them looked confused from his very simple question. “What are ya? Some kinda idiot?” Except the palest man, that by the look of his stars shared his rank. If anything, he looked sadistically amused by Havoc’s lack of understanding. It gave him an ill foreboding feeling.

“Oh it makes sense that you haven’t heard.” His two lackeys looked over to him and the grin that lit up his colorless face was sickening. “You know…not a single soldier trusts you, what with your disgusting relations with Ishval.” Instinctively his fists clenched tightly at his sides. It was hard not letting him get riled even though he knew it’s what they wanted to begin with. He wasn’t sure what part of that sentence pissed him off more; the fact that nearly no soldier did trust in him or that he’d dare bring up his past.

However, with the very slight mention of his past had him reeling back down memory lane. It was somewhere he kept himself from going. He didn’t know anyone willing enough to go dwelling on memories that were painful. That part of him was gone, or was supposed to be gone. When he refused to reply – or was distracted by his own mind – the man continued, “You probably only got your position so that it’s easier to make an underserving fool’s death look like an accident.”

Blue hues darkened from that statement and he glared at the man in front of him. Now, not only was his mind racing, but he was pissed off and felt immensely defensive because of it. “Hmm? Did I strike a nerve? Must be painful being the scum of the military.” Instinctively Havoc lunged forward at him before his mind could tell his body to stop, but another force stopped him before he could make contact to his much desired target. The other men practically threw him back against the wall with such force all the oxygen was violently thrust out of his lungs. His head hung forward as he wheezed from the impact and shook under the hold he was now in.

“You’re just as despicable as the Ishvalan trash that was wiped out.” The whispered words licked across his ear with such malice that it made him cringe. He had gotten this speech before and he knew what always followed. Fighting back didn’t do him much good. It never did. No one really took his word, especially in the academy. But what pissed him off more than getting his ass handed to him, is that it even continues when he gets his promotion; when he was supposed to finally be of some value. He’d thought he’d at the very least get treated as an equal.

On top of it, his mind was fuming. He was dizzy with painful nostalgia, but was trembling with rage. Both things being something that a simple smoke couldn’t easily fix. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to chase those guys and beat a painful lesson into them or to tear the stars off his uniform with a big ‘fuck you’. He wasn’t sure at all what he wanted. He was thinking irrationally and even worse thoughts began flooding his mind until he couldn’t see anything past those thoughts. Hell, he practically couldn’t see his hand in front of his face.

But he did hear a voice. It was a deep one that didn’t sound like any of the men he encountered before. This voice was strong and sounded like it was from a man who carried himself incredibly well. He just couldn’t differentiate between a concerned tone and a threatening one. And then he felt a hand to his shoulder. Was it from the same man who spoke out to him? Havoc didn’t know what he wanted or how much he witnessed, but then next thing he knew, he was in a daze as if he had woken up from a nap that was far too short.

“Damn it,” he muttered painfully as he winced definitely remembering the beating that he received. The throbbing of his injures wouldn’t let him forget. He wiped over his chin with the back of his hand expecting to smear away a little bit of blood, but when he looked down at his hand, it was covered in too much to come from just busted lip. He quickly raised the other hand and froze as it matched in its appearance. Blood that had cooled was now drying along his skin, his knuckles carrying the bounty of it.

Did he beat up those guys like he had seethed about? Looking forward, his cigarette was still on the ground in front of him so he didn’t appear to have chased them down. When he actually lowered his hands and looked around more, he saw a dark haired male on his back who appeared to be unconscious, but more importantly, in military garb. His heart immediately sank as he got a sinking suspicion that he didn’t want to have. “Shit…” he cursed, mentally slapping himself as he scooted closer to the other male. He didn’t know how where to even begin. He just needed to make sure this guy was breathing. He’d have to face consequences later. “Sir…we need to get you help—!”