This is where shit kicks off. Say hello to Jack, the monster in fucked up individual forced into existence. Expect clinical levels of depression and self-loathing, along with an all-encompassing feeling of helplessness. Also, I would like to point out that this takes place about three years before the events of the story. Enjoy.

Chapter 2: The Fallen Protector

Jack awoke lying on his back in the mountains, his memories slowly returning to him from the haze. (Slowly for three thousand years, anyway. To a normal person it would seem fairly rapid.)

How long had he been out? How long had he been lost? Then it hit him like a freight train.

They were undefended!

He hauled himself to his feet and stumbled through the mountains as fast as his aching body would let him. His entire existence was a cacophony of pain. His skin felt too tight on his body, his muscles felt like they were coated in acid, his bones threatened to break loose and beat him to death, and a family of psychotic inbred woodpeckers was using his scull to play a precussion orchestra with tiny jackhammers!

Finally, Jack emerged from the mountains as the sun was over halfway to its zenith. There his shaky legs finally failed and he dropped to the ground like a sack of shit.

The city was in flames. He could hear the screaming all the way up here. He'd failed again. The people he'd worked so hard to protect were all dying in terror and agony, and he was too weak to do anything about it.

He was a fool. This always happened. It was as inevitable as the sunrise. Everyone he loved died. That was the cardinal rule.

Unable to do anything to stop the carnage, he laid there in the dirt, adding his own agonized screams to those of his people.

The Survey corps was failing.

Through some miracle, these people had never even heard of Titans, let alone seen one.

But now all of that had changed. Shortly after they'd arrived, the Titans had followed in their wake. And now half the city was burning. The terrified citizens ran for their lives as the Titans had a field day, grabbing up screaming people left and right as they scrambled around like headless chickens.

Anyone who fell was trampled underfoot or left for the Titans in the mad, directionless struggle for survival! Children ran from the school as Titans thundered after them, snapping up the stragglers like Children Mcnuggets! (N/A: Yes, I do have multiple diagnosed disorders. No, they sadly have little to do with what I just said.)

With no hope of saving the city and their efforts earning them little other than casualties; they rounded up as many civilians as they could and piled them into every wagon they could get their hands on.

They moved out of the city, losing three wagons despite the Survey Corps' best efforts. Regardless, they moved on, the people forced to watch helplessly as even more of their neighbours, friends, and family members were devoured

The convoy was full of panic and terror as it wound through a mountain pass, people having mental breakdowns or screaming to turn back for those they'd left behind. One fool even shoved a soldier off of his horse and went charging back, only to serve as an example of how bad an idea that was. In the confusion, it was easy for a lone figure to stumble in and take cover in one of the wagons.

It took five weeks to make it back to Wall Rose, losing seven more carts along the way, leaving only five carts stuffed full of starving, traumatized refugees. From an advanced city of roughly 10,000 people, barely more than 30 had survived.

To make matters worse, the Survey Corps' numbers were at a record low. Levi knew that fact alone would make it even harder to attract new recruits.

The soldiers assured the refugees they would be safe as they passed through the gate.

Seven days later, after a mountain of political bullshit, the survivors of the city, which they now knew was named Rosengrandt, were being put into a refugee camp while they adjusted and got themselves integrated.

It was then, as they unloaded what few possessions they had, that the first sign of trouble reared its ugly head in the form of a Wallist.

"Look at this rabble. Brought low by their own godless existence. But what fate could be expected for heathen living without the divine protection of the blessed Walls!

"Hold on, what!?" Rang a disbelieving voice.

"Yes, you heard me! God blessed us with the gift of these three shielding walls. To live beyond them would be to spit in the face of the Almighty! You must all bow to the Walls and beg forgiveness for your transgressions!"

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" The voice laughed. The priest was about to demand to know who dared laugh at a holy servant, but the answer made itself clear moments later, as a man stood from the nearest wagon.

He was massive. So much so that at first glance members of the Corps had mistaken him for a three meter class! Standing six feet tall at the least, with a body sculpted like a Greek statue, and hands that looked capable of ripping trees from the ground!

"Now I've seen it all! Humans really will worship fucking anything!" After that the giant simply descended into hysterical laughter. "

Ay blyat!" He finally wheezed after a good three minutes.

The Wallist had had enough. He prepared to scream passages of his holy texts at the insolent nonbeliever. What was a giant's physical strength to the power of god? Then the giant leaned forward and removed his strange black glasses.

The look he gave said 'Killing you would be inconvenient, but that doesn't mean I won't enjoy it.'

But the look wasn't what caused his words catch in his throat. Those eyes. Those empty, dead eyes. He could feel them boring holes in him, and he was suddenly afraid for his very soul. "I gotta thank you, though." Admitted the demon, for he was sure that's what it was. "After all the shit I've been through, I really needed a good laugh."

With that, the giant man turned and strolled away. Nobody tried to stop him. Anyone who could shut up a fanatic with nothing but a glare could achieve anything.

So that's chapter 2. Now you've met two very different aspects of Jack. One who's gone over a hundred years without some good old self-medication, and one who's had a fresh bump of crank. If you want to know more about him, read my bio. He's an awesome and deep character who's a tone of fun to write for. See you nuts next time.