To put it simply, Marco was pissed off.
He could clearly recall going to Erwin's office at least three times for the past two weeks, discussing the possibility of an apprentice. "It was slight," he had said. "I don't think you'd be the best for working with newbies," he had said. That was good. Marco wasn't going to waste his time on some kid who most likely wouldn't last a week in training. He swore to God, the company's standards were getting lower every day. That bald kid nearly blew up the lab last week because he was too busy trying to impress that red-head intern by making a potato clock. That shit was for Petra to deal with, not him.
"I have to train a shitty brat with no potential. Have you seen his records?" Levi griped, eyes narrowed into a bigger scowl than usual. "He's useless." The papers, which seemed to offend him, were tossed over the arm of the couch, where they landed on the ground with a slight whisper of complaint.
Marco's assignment was still in his hands. He had already thrown it across the room earlier that day, and didn't feel like doing it again. Maybe setting it on fire would be better. Who cared if it made the fire alarms go off? It would be amusing to see everyone scatter to try and find safety. "No, I haven't seen yours, I'm too fucking busy looking at mine. Your boyfriend is an asshole." he added.
"I know." Levi scowled. "He's in for it later."
"Please. You couldn't punish Erwin if your life depended on it."
The only response was a grunt, because Levi knew his companion was right, and he just didn't want to admit it. Stubborn bastard. It appeared that it would be up to Marco to voice their objections. Erwin and his stupid ass orders could go to hell for all he cared. There was no way Marco was going to willingly train this punk.
Jean Kirstein, must be french, oh God, if he had an accent Marco was going to beat it out of him, 19, lovely, a hormonal, inexperienced teenager, that's just the sort of thing Marco wouldn't get pissed off at in the first five minutes of dealing with him, Erwin knew him so well, Parents- Anton and Mandolin Kirstein. That was the interesting part, enough so that he could calm down for a minute. Marco's single eye studied the page warily. The heads of the Kirstein Chemical Company stared back, the two black and white pictures printed out on the page under the photo of their only son looking displeased, both with Marco and with Jean's decision to apply for training.
Why would someone with a perfect future planned out for him leave it to do this? Marco had to ask. All those rich boys were the same, waiting for everything to be served for them on a golden platter, not caring about the waitstaff. They demanded only the best, and expected even better. There had to be some reason for this Kirstein kid to come to Survey Corps.
Survey Corps had been keeping an eye on Kirstein Chemical Company for a year now. Such a big company, it had to have some secrets, and Erwin had told a few close associates that he was suspicious that they were the ones behind the so-called Titan Crisis, a condition whose reactions were similar to being on PSP. No one knew where it came from, but with a little digging on Hanji's part, a connection to Kirstein was found. Thankfully, the media hadn't really caught wind of it yet, giving them time to properly investigate. Last time Marco checked, the company itself was unaware of them. Maybe not. Maybe this was all a ploy, and Jean was planning to spy on the spies, because his daddy ordered it. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
How intriguing. That explained why he was actually accepted. Jean wasn't anything special. The only thing he truly had going for him was his heritage. Erwin must be hoping for information to slip out at some point during his training. That would also explain why Marco was in charge of him. This kind of thing was something he was good at- picking up on the little things, being able to spot the true colors of a person. Even if Marco didn't catch him on the first day, it would only be a matter of time until it would be revealed. And if his intentions were pure, which was unlikely, and if Jean would be able to actually manage to gather enough skill to pass the courses, even less likely, then maybe he could make a career out of being an agent. Or a janitor. There was no shame in cleaning up other people's messes. Levi did that all the time. But that was more of a hobby. "If I had a nickel for every disordered room I organized, I'd be the richest man in the world." He had claimed in a drunken haze once, to which Marco replied with, "Shut the fuck up, no one cares."
"I'm gonna go see how long it takes for this Yeager kid to fail. See you later." Levi stood, walking out of the room with a half wave, looking more miserable than usual.
Marco nodded dismissively, and stretched, glancing at his medicine cabinet in annoyance, mentally willing the Advil to come and leap into his mouth. It didn't. "Asshole," he told the container once he got a hold of it, and quickly downed three pills. It was going to be a long day.
Who the fuck wears their hair like that?
The picture had not shown the odd, two-toned quality of it. How the fuck does that even happen? How fucking high do you have to be to think of a hair style like that? What an eyesore, is that the way the french do it, those obnoxious bastards?
Other than that, he was rather unremarkable, just like he had guessed from the reports. Lean, a bit muscly, pale and unassuming. Marco couldn't see his eyes from here, especially since the guy was staring at the ground, looking pathetic, but that didn't matter. He wasn't here to judge this Jean kid based on his looks.
But really, what was the harm in pointing it out?
"What's wrong with your hair?"
His eyes were amber fire and they burned and kindled and scarred his face. The air was crackling with smoke and energy and Marco didn't like it one bit. It was something he wasn't expecting, something he wasn't planning on, and Marco had taught himself to plan for everything. "What's wrong with your eye?" was the harsh answer, and something snapped.
She was his teammate, his friend. She had almost been shot.
Marco stopped himself there.
"Get in the elevator." He couldn't even tell if he was angry, because he was just numb, and needed a moment. Things like this happened. Sometimes something came up that made him feel like this. He dealt with it as best he could. Thinking about her was almost always the cause. It was a phantom pain- it shouldn't hurt but sometimes it did, no matter how much time had past.
You would think he would get something like that in his missing eye or scarred limb instead of his usually frozen heart.
Keep it together. Just breath.
They were weak thoughts, but it worked. They shut him down again, just how he liked it. He was back to his normal self. "This is going to be your first test," Marco told Kirstein, grinning as trainer eager to see his pupil fail on the first day, but he felt nothing. Anything else would have been unacceptable. Feelings were weak, and he wasn't weak- feelings were for people like Jean, who was sweating like that suspect they had captured last week. He wouldn't meet his eye, which was understandable. Marco was a figure to be feared, in the kid's head.
Good. That was just how he liked it.
Jean was shit at the 3-D Maneuver Gear.
Marco almost shook his head at that. He didn't like calling him Jean. It felt too personal. Besides, he didn't want to bother learning the french pronunciation of the name. "C'mon Kirstein, is that the best you can do?" Yeah, that was better. It rolled off the tongue more, it was easier to manipulate in his mouth.
"Shut up, will you? I'm concentrating, and at last I'm doing better than Yeager!"
Feisty french bastard, was that the way it was gonna be? Marco had to make a conscious decision not to smack him. Jea- Kirstein had almost reminded Marco of himself when they first met, with the criticism of a subject that probably shouldn't have been brought up, but this kid was trying too hard, lashing out too much. He didn't know how to keep what he was thinking locked away, which just might end up being a problem if you wanted to be a fucking secret agent was this kid an actual idiot?
Yeager. The name rang a bell. Levi's apprentice? Yeah, that was it. The other worthless one. He was having trouble too, Marco could hear Levi's annoyed grunt from here. But maybe he had that screwy belt that the bald intern had forgotten to replace.
Yeah, that must of been it. There was cheering on the other side of the room, and Levi's mildly pleased, but trying to remain stone cold and indifferent comment of "Stop yelling, brat."
Another quality of Kirstein that would almost assure him a future of a failed trainee- he was easily distracted. He was flipped upside down in less then a second, and only a moment after, the term "FUCK YOU YEAGER." was out of his mouth before he was even aware he was doing it.
What a spoiled loser.
That was the second thought.
The first was something along the lines of pity, and amusement. Someone flipped upside down wasn't something he had witnessed since back in his own days of training, and Kirstein had the most offended, incredulous look on his face, as if gravity wasn't supposed to affect him.
It was funny. Marco was laughing, and he had that old urge to help him up and get him to try again with a few choice words of encouragement.
No.
It was over before it begun. I'm not like that any more. "Get back up," was all he said, and Kirstein actually obeyed.
Hello readers! Thanks for sticking around for the second chapter! As you can tell, they're going to be flipping back and forth between points of view, fingers crossed it's not going to be as repetitive as I fear! Hope you enjoyed, and will read the next chapter once it's out!
