Date written: 10/10/15 – 26/01/16
Posted on Fanfiction: 26/01/16
A/N: Which do you hate more, me or my cliffhangers?
*trollface*
/ — — CHAPTER 8 — — \
Thunder
A lot could happen in seconds.
Her ears picked up the thunderous firing of a cannon, its sound booming to her ears, its presence so potent she felt a wave of force punch right through her. She saw Eren struggling to move, and when she and Armin got close to him, he wrapped his arms around their necks. She didn't have time to speak; the incoming cannonball was growing larger, getting closer. She meant to move, but it seemed getting an impromptu hug from Eren marked the absolute end of her adrenaline high. She could barely pull herself out of his embrace or push him towards a certain direction. It was like he sucked the strength right out of her within a fraction of a second. She saw him put his hand to his mouth, teeth baring.
And he bit it.
A sense of déjà vu.
Darkness.
The sound of thunder. Actual thunder.
Then something hot and fleshy coiling about her whole body as if she had been swallowed by a giant snake. A moment passed, a second, a third, then complete darkness and heat.
Mikasa's thoughts had time to utter, What—, before the cannonball exploded. She felt the vibrations from the impact. Her ears fared worse, though, having to face head-on the explosive noise, whose power dwarfed the thunderous cannon fire that came before it. Fortunately her body didn't get torn from the inside out. The explosion was real, not a dream or illusion, so how was she still alive and conscious?
Hot, thick smoke flooding her vision began to dissipate and she found it odd to find herself sitting under a shade. The shadows around her were more pronounced, and the sun did not bask her with its heat, though the smoke was doing a job substituting for it. Almost as if it was—
"Steam?"
Yes, it was steam, not smoke. She could breathe in it, but the scent of it made her cringe. It reminded her of boiling blood, the same scent disintegrating Titan's had.
"Steam and blood . . ."
It can't be.
The steam dispersed some more and Mikasa soon saw what the shade was. Large, curving bones, half-covered in red pulsing flesh. She failed to understand how this thing came to be, but at least she knew that it was thanks to this that they survived the cannonball. They . . .?
Her eyes widened. Eren! Armin!
She looked left, right. Armin sat next to her, looking around as well, yet he was also shivering and muttering to himself. Eren was nowhere in sight. She tried to stand, but her legs gave out instantly, and she braced her arms for the eventual fall. She swallowed a curse. Danger was at every corner and she didn't even have the strength to protect the one person who mattered most to her.
Something erupted from outside, spreading steam and its heat at the two of them. The bones and pulsing flesh vibrated around them.
"What the hell, what the hell, what the hell, what the—"
She shook Armin's shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself."
It sounded hypocritical to her ears; she was still figuring out what the hell was going on, but it was somehow thanks to her friend being more panicky than she that she was able to recover her wits sooner. Still, there was much to process: the military, her comrades, thinking she was a Titan, the rapid healing of her wounds, the fact that Eren was alive, saved from a cannonball by some kind of decaying Titan torso that appeared out of thin air . . . these turn of events were not what she expected when she got up this morning.
Armin did as he was told, taking one deep breath, making a disgusted face at the surrounding smell, and letting it out slowly. He looked around again, calmer this time, and whispered, "Could this be Eren's doing?"
Eren's doing? her thoughts parroted.
"Armin, what do you mean?" she asked. "Do you know what happened to Eren?"
"There's little time to explain everything," he replied, "but here's a rundown: You got eaten by a Titan, then you transformed into a Titan. The same happened with Eren. You two, in your Titan forms, fought each other. You beat Eren, and his body emerged from the Titan. He couldn't leave you behind, so he transformed again and beat you. The soldiers out there witnessed the last fight and you two emerging from your Titan forms. This torso"—he gestured to the giant flesh and bones that acted as their makeshift shelter—"is most likely Eren's doing."
"That . . ." She gritted her teeth, her mind going on overdrive. "That's quite a lot to take in." As if she hadn't had enough things to process at once.
"It takes a while, I know, but we need to find Eren, fast. The steam covers us from the soldiers, and they're too afraid to venture inside. That gives us time."
"You got a plan?"
Armin looked down. "I . . ."
Not yet, she realized. He was just doing his best to adapt to the situation. Whatever plan he might've had beforehand seemed to have gone down the drain once Verman gave the kill order.
In the midst of his silence, she said, "I see. Then let's find Eren." She tested her legs, hoping that the momentary rest she gave them made a difference. If she could heal from shallow wounds in the blink of an eye, what was there to say about recuperating her strength in a similar time frame?
Her legs shook a lot, and she absently wondered if this was the feeling toddlers had when they were taking their first steps. A bit of fear, a bit of determination, as her knees wobbled about, looking ready to collapse at any reckless step she made. She managed to get herself standing at her full height again. She thought she could actually do this, then one knee gave out and she slumped onto Armin, who had most likely predicted this would happen and caught her within a second.
"Let me help you around for now." He adjusted the arm she had on his shoulder and assisted her outside the torso. Leave it to Armin to soften the blow to her pride by implying that she'll regain enough strength to walk on her own again real soon.
More of the Titan torso collapsed, imploding, like an old cabin conceding to the weight of heavy snow on its roof.
"That was close," Armin said, after covering his face from the wave of steam that came their way.
"Yeah," she murmured. There was a big hole where the torso's back used to be, and again there was that nagging feeling at the back of her brain that something was amiss. More of the Titan looked ready to fall down like a puppet with its strings cut. Both arms gone, head partially sinking into its own clavicle, flesh disintegrating, and bones cracking, it was quite close to the end of its existence in the physical plane. She heard a thud coming from back inside and when she looked over there, her eyes widened.
"Armin!" She shook his shoulder. "Look!"
"That's…!"
They stepped forward together. Mikasa ignored the pained cries of her knees as she forced them to support a fraction of her weight.
Eren lay on the floor, face down, steam rising out of his body.
"Eren…!" Mikasa hastened her steps and tripped when Armin was unable to match her pace in time. Well, if she couldn't walk, she decided to crawl. She needed to be sure he was real.
Eren was hot to the touch, scalding even. It was a small wonder his own skin hadn't started burning or formed blisters. She didn't know it was actually possible for the human body to emit heat hot enough to boil water. Maybe it wasn't supposed to, and that thought made her fear grow exponentially. She lifted his limp body (her muscles ached, the pain, the pain, THE PAIN!) and turned it over, wanting to listen to his heartbeat closely—
His face was torn. Large, red, swelling veins were etched under his eyes, and they pulsed like heartbeats. They were not, however, what made her cover her mouth to push back the scream. There, starting from where his left eye used to be, was a tear of flesh that reached his nose, upper lip, and right jaw, a tear so deep, only red blood and white bone remained.
"Oh dear God… Eren…"
It was horrible to hear the wheezing coming out of the area where his nose used to be. It was a sign he was alive, but he was definitely not well. High with fever, erratic breathing, the flesh of his face missing, he looked as if he wouldn't survive for very long.
Hospital! her mind screamed. We need to get him there, fast!
Easier said than done, the cynical aspect of her retorted, as her eyes peered to the dissipating fog, beyond which stood a dozen or so soldiers, blades drawn and given the order to kill with extreme prejudice. Do you think it's possible to get through them while keeping an eye on Eren? Or Armin? What about the cannon? It must've reloaded by now. Surprise attacks, perhaps? Doctors refusing to treat what the military perceives as a threat?
She closed her eyes tightly. Teeth grinding, she tried suppressing the building anger—angry at the world, angry at Verman, angry at their hopeless situation, oh how she wished so bad to rage against the world—but the pressure proved too much for even her steeled mind to reel in completely. There was, however, enough remaining reasoning for her to list out her available courses of action. None seemed prospective, safe, or even the least bit non-suicidal.
"What are we going to do?" She clamped her mouth shut. She didn't mean to say that out loud.
"I don't know," Armin said. His fingers slithered across his blond fringes, through the top of his hair, and stopped at his nape. He gritted his teeth. "I honestly don't know." What was once hope in his eyes had turned to despair. Whatever he hoped to accomplish was gone now. He realized at maybe the same time as Mikasa that someone as overwhelmed with as Verman would not let anything fueling his fear go. It was like entering a maze with no exit, looking for a way where there was none.
Armin looked to be conceding to that fact as he gazed into Mikasa's eyes. When she looked back, she saw hollow cerulean orbs.
Mikasa swallowed, and a slight sense of deja vu hit her. How many times had she looked in a mirror and saw the same kind of eyes reflecting the torrent of despair and hopelessness? No amount of facades could erase the truth in one's eyes; they would always be laid bare, as if they were covered in the thinnest veil imaginable. For Mikasa, she wished she could unsee the utter defeat in her friend's eyes. It felt horrible for her and for what Armin meant to her.
"All of what we did," Armin said, tears building, "and this is how it ends, killed not by Titans but by our comrades." He punched the floor. "Just how cruel can this world be? Haven't we gone through enough?!" Again. Again.
She grabbed ahold of his hands, but she was hard-pressed in keeping her grip. "Calm down."
"How can I stay calm?" His struggling lessened as his voice whispered words that seemed to project defeat and cold anger at the same time. "There's no way out for us."
She looked at him, then to Eren, then to Eren's bare arm. That thing he did right before everything swirl in a haze of fragmented scenes and blackness… then she looked at her own arm, percolating the newborn thought. Like a babe at the end of a tantrum, Armin panted, tears streaming down his eyes. The hand he had been bludgeoning with the ground was stained with red at the knuckles. There was torn skin, dripping blood, and shaky fingers, but the worst part of it was over and Armin seemed to regain a semblance of calm—or maybe he wasted so much energy at his own agitation that he couldn't spare any more to resume it.
Mikasa could hardly tell, but she did want Armin to keep away from self-destructive outbursts. She grasped his injured hand with her own two, an action she reserved for Eren whenever he got down in the dumps and only when he allowed such contact (it hurt to think that most times he was depressed was because he felt inadequate compared to her own accomplishments). If it worked for Eren, then surely it'd work for Armin.
"Calm yourself," she said, giving a gentle squeeze to the grabbed limb, taking care not to aggravate the scrapes and scratches on his knuckles. "We'll find a way."
She wished she had more to say, but time running out. The mist was close to dissipating completely. This would have to do, and she hoped it'd be enough.
"Armin," she began, thinking over the words she was about to say and seeing that sugarcoating was futile, "please take Eren and get away from here."
"But what about—"
"I'll distract the soldiers. Once they're disoriented, that's your cue to escape."
"That's impossible." His voice remained low. "There are over a dozen of them. And then there's the cannon. How will you—"
She squeezed his hand—gently—again and made the gesture of biting her hand like what Eren did. "If what you said was true, then the soldiers will have something bigger to deal with."
He understood her intentions. Good. Yet… "Why?"
He looked appalled at the idea.
"Why?" she parroted. Her answer was clear, her desire even more so. If it meant sacrificing herself to see Eren's safety, then she'd do so in a heartbeat. "To distract them. To help you and Eren escape."
"And you? What about you?"
"I'll catch up," she said, but she knew a lie when she heard one, especially when it came from her own mouth. She just hoped Armin wouldn't challenge her on it. Besides, could she really catch up? She felt weak, in pain, and outright exhausted. What were her odds?
Doesn't matter. As long as Eren's safe.
Armin shook his head. "No! I'm not leaving you behind."
"You have to."
"No! Mikasa, this is suicide."
"This is no time to argue with me." She glanced at the mist and could now spot silhouettes of the fearful soldiers. She wondered if they could see her and her friends in turn. "If we don't do something, we'll all be dead."
"But…" He took pause, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth. When he opened them again, his gaze was towards the soldiers. "Is this really the only way?"
She almost said yes. There was something about Armin's face that made her stop, made her think things over. If the worst case scenario occurred, she expected an expression of defeat again, a telltale sign that hope no longer existed in his eyes, but what was there instead was a face of concentration, the kind of face he makes whenever he is in the midst of formulating a plan.
The silhouettes beyond got clearer, and she could already see them scrambling with their rifles, taking aim and waiting for their leader to give the kill order. She estimated they had a minute at best before they had to face the music. She needed to act quick. Should she go with her original plan or put faith in whatever Armin would come up with?
Her plan or Armin's?
The seconds rolled by. Her heartbeat was calm but it sounded thundering in her ears.
Her plan or Armin's?
She could see the muzzles beyond the mist.
Her plan or Armin's?
Which should she choose?
She glanced over at Armin and found her answer. His eyes held conviction again. If it was him, no matter the plan, she'd follow it through.
She smiled a little, a turn of the lips that happened in the blink of an eye before reverting to her usual expression. "No," she said, in response to his desperate question earlier. "There's another way." Both hands clasped onto Armin's own again. "If you've thought of something, know that I trust you wholeheartedly."
"Eh?"
"You have a plan to save us, right?"
"I… but I…"
"I'll put my faith in that plan and so should you. You haven't let me and Eren down before."
"What… what do you mean?"
"In Shiganshina, when Eren and I ran to our home, you told Hannes where we were and pleaded him to come get us."
His eyes widened.
"We would've died. We would've stayed there, helping Carla out no matter what. And if not for you, Hannes wouldn't have been there to save us."
He looked to have gone through a revelation he never expected to have, like the bad things he always thought of as grudging facts turned out to be false. It hit him hard, it hit him fast, but instead of recoiling from the truth, he embraced it, drew power from it. His eyes told of renewed determination, far stronger than before. Mikasa could feel it as if it were a tangible change in the air.
"All right," he said at last, standing up. "I'm sorry for not realizing it till now."
He need not apologize, but if he wished to do so, then she'd let him.
"Stay with Eren," he said. "I'm going to talk to them one last time. I want to avoid bloodshed as much as possible. I want to make them see that you two aren't the enemy."
"But if they don't—"
"Then we'll go with your plan." He took a deep breath and grimaced at the lingering blood-scent of the surrounding vapor. "At the first sign of trouble, transform and get out of here with Eren."
She was about to protest, but he quickly added, "If possible, you can pick me up after transforming. Or I could catch up with you. I still have my gear with me, after all."
"I don't want to leave anyone behind."
"You won't. Trust me, Mikasa. I'll get us out of this."
A moment of hesitation, contemplation, and resignation later, she agreed to his order and readied herself.
Trust me, he had said. Her words had come back to haunt her.
In truth, she was unsure if she really could transform, but she had to try. A lot was riding on the backup plan if ever Armin's plan fell through.
He marched out of the mist, and though the approaching silhouette the soldiers would see was human-sized, they still screamed in terror.
And one of them fired their gun.
Armin was hit, right in the head. Time slowed to a crawl. Mikasa saw his body get pushed back by the impact, blood flying. A lot of blood. Too much blood. She screamed his name, her heart crying and flailing. When his body hit the ground, never to get back up, she glanced at the crowd, looking for muzzle smoke even if her vision was still shot by the clearing mist, but screw that. She didn't care, didn't think much of it. She just wanted to find the bastard who shot her friend dead.
A silhouette stepped forward, their gun raised… then lowered as they fumbled with the stock and barrel, like a trainee unused to reloading a weapon.
Reloading a weapon…
You…
The mist disappeared entirely, and now she had a face to go with the shooter.
You…!
It was that cowardly Commander.
Commander Kitts fucking Verman. Verman the vermin. Verman the shooter.
Verman. Shooter.
Commander.
Shooter.
Verman. You. Verman. You. You. Verman. Verman.
Verman the—
You. You. You.
YouYouYouYouYouYouYouYouYouYou
DamnyouDamnyouDamnyouDamnyouD̀҉ám̀n̕͢y̴̢͝o̢͝u͞Da̡mn̡y͘͘o͟͝ú̢͟D̴ą̴̛m̨n̵y̷̶̡ouḐ̀͠ą͘ḿ͢n͝͞y͢ou̢
K̷̕͜i̵̧͘̕ļ̨̀͘l̷̡̕y̨҉̸̀͜òu̡̨̨̕k͏̷́̕i̸̷̡̛l̸̛͢͡l̸͞y̴̧͠ǫ̶̧͝u̕͟͡k̵̷i͘l̵͠l̵̷̢̛y̢͢͏ò̶̧̀ù̴͜k͘͟͟͏͢i͜͠l̷l̡͘͝
—killer. He killed Armin. Killed him in cold blood.
Youuu…
Mikasa opened her mouth and let her hand in.