Hope you all are staying safe and are enjoying your summer! :)

On most mornings, Annie keeps to a routine: there's a fight against the bricks of misery stamping her to the bed; cold water splashes her face and she rubs, hopes the red she sees is a millimeter less than it was yesterday.

This morning is different. As Annie's eyelids flutter open, a foreign calm has settled in her—her skull isn't weighed down and her senses are sharper, all possibly gained from this sensation of having slept better than many other nights. This clarity is…odd and what adds to this strangeness is Armin's chest isn't her pillow anymore but there's a tickling under her chin, a firm warmth on her chest. Annie's gaze declines and her eyelids immediately droop.

Armin's body is tucked tight against her, his cheek resting in the middle of her chest, his hands on her lower back warm and idling. If Annie wanted to be cruel, she'd say he looks like those needy children who squeezed their teddy bears too tightly and she's not sure how he weaseled his way down without waking her either. She holds back the remark, her mind daring to think having Armin cuddled up against her is comforting, peaceful...and is this a situation where the word cute fits? Armin's mix of strength and uncalloused-softness has a cozy warmth bubbling in her chest, brings pleasant tingles which makes her toes wiggle and curl. She's touched him in places most people crave but having him against her like this—lying silently in this safe place where they're shielded from everything—anything lustful is the farthest thing from Annie's mind.

Annie's hand rises, fingers inching closer to touch him. She freezes.

Armin isn't tainted. Red death coats every groove in her hand and Armin isn't like her; even with all his struggles, he's too innocent for a toxic touch like hers. Annie's hand pulls back, hesitation washing over her. She stops again.

Armin would convince her she's wrong, another side of Annie argues—a side who's louder now. He'd tell her to not worry, to try; knowing Armin, he'd probably go so far as to take her hand and guide her to touch him. The voice of doubt shuts up and Annie lets herself be daring—she runs her fingers through Armin's sweat-dried hair, slides her palm down the hair waterfall on the back of his head. She takes in the back of his neck, his shoulders to the top of his arm—every muscle lean but firm. Annie tucks her forearm under his pit and shakily—her trembling so severe, she could rival a panicky Armin—her hand cups the back of his head, holds him against her. Annie rests her cheek on the bed of his fine, yellow strands and sighs.

The talons of self-loathing and guilt battle against the peace-bubble Annie's in but they don't seep through and knowing so has the girl pull Armin in closer, her hand fisting a clump of his hair. She's warm and Annie notices that the fireplace in her chest who started out so small and hungry has grown larger, rages in the spot where there was once a hole, and she's not scared of it anymore. She nuzzles the top of Armin's head and her mouth aches; she's not used to smiling for more than a second let alone these past fifteen seconds. She's as stupid as him— far stupider than Armin, actually—for doing this, to keep someone who shouldn't love her so close, but there's no other time than right here where she's been so comfortable, completely uncaring of consequences.

"I can't breathe very well when my nose is crushed against you, Annie…" Armin stirs in her grip, a groggy noise leaving him, "Could you loosen up?"

She smirks, "Fine, but you're getting off easy. Next time, I'll start charging you for how often you put your face in my chest."

"...if my allowance won't cover it, stealing isn't so hard," Armin rises and the determination in his calm face almost has a challenging grin lift her mouth, "Neither is gambling. I'll find a way to pay my debts."

"Good because you drooled on me too. Either you were dreaming of something nice or you missed me."

"...when you say it like that, it just sounds like a trap even though I really was thinking about both…"

Annie hums airily, "Is that so?" she rests her arm on the bed and supports her head with her hand, "Then I'll put you on the spot - what was it about?"

"You really want to know?"

"If I didn't, would I have bothered to ask?"

He chuckles with his kiddish smile and Armin's charm which Annie once found irritating and naive has become so attention-grabbing to her, "Good point. I was having a dream I always have. It's been a little different lately but…it's the same one I've dreamed almost every night since I was small," Armin turns quiet, his focus centered on her collarbone, "Annie, I've been thinking about something. It's a slim chance—it might not even happen and I'm entertaining a fool's thought again—but I want you to hear me out. Will you?" Her head tilts as her invitation for him to keep going. Seawater blue zip up to her, "Annie, I want you to come traveling with me."

"...huh?"

"If we're able to clear the Titans from inside Wall Maria and outside of the walls, if we get to the basement and find the ocean, if we have the chance to go even farther...I want you to come with us. Come traveling with me."

She's taken aback, unsure of how to respond, "…why would you want me to come with you? That's something you and your friends have dreamed about for years. I don't fit in and I'd be intruding in it too."

"To me, you do fit in," he assures her, "Mikasa and Eren will understand too. Eren may see it as a chance to use the rest during the commute as a training opportunity too! Mikasa…well, Mikasa is more mature than Eren. She'll accept it."

Annie's knowledge of the real-world pushes back against Armin's impossible fantasy. Such a thing can't happen—he's a fool for asking her of all people to join in—...but Armin can't possibly be told that, "And in this dream-land where you and the Scouts can do this, I take it that's when I'm supposed to leave all my responsibilities behind? Come run away with you and all that other mushy junk?"

"Yes," Armin beams at her, bright-eyed, "Though somehow, I'm starting to look forward to the mushy junk a little more than seeing the sights. That's something I didn't expect..."

Annie can't force down a tiny, entertained side-smile even while rolling her eyes, "Because you seem so excited about the possibility, I'll humor you. Say I did want to go with you. What if the Brigade doesn't let me? I can't just leave."

"Every superior has a skeleton in their closet somewhere. I'm sure I can hold something over them to help you take a year off."

Annie's mouth curls coyly. She lightly pushes against Armin's forehead, "You're absolutely conniving."

Armin's smile is never-ending, spreads wider and the toasty fire within Annie grows hotter, "But you know that already and if it means you get to come with me then I'll do what I can. The other officers would do the same against me if they had the chance. It'll be tough and I'm not sure how long it will take, but…there's a slim chance we can find the answers someday. It's possible that the Survey Corp won't be underdogs anymore and we'll be able to see more, explore everything outside of the walls and so much more."

For your sake, I hope you don't, Armin.

"Only you and Eren could make such a crock of shit sound so inspiring…" Annie mutters, "...and believable."

Armin's thumb runs along her cheek and from his touch, the warmth of every long, summer day which Annie could never enjoy comes back, exists and blooms on the side of her face, "One way or another, we'll get there. Maybe not all of us, but we can try. And Annie...if we can achieve such a thing, I really do want you to come with me."

You live in an absolute fantasy and I'm dumber than you for wanting to go with you.

"Annie?"

Annie allows a half-spirited smile to rise, "Because you're so good at twisting my arm…" she sighs, "Fine, you've won me over. But you're handling any grief I get from my superiors over this."

"Deal! And remember, it will all be worth it! We'll see oceans and deserts. The land of fire and ice. The whole world could be at our fingertips and we'll see everything we ever wanted. Then after we've seen our fair share, I could maybe write a book about it like the ones I used to read when I was little. I can write about everything after we've seen it all and maybe…"

Armin's face reddens so quickly, one of Annie's platinum-yellow brows shoots up, "What?"

"Nothing." The once enthusiastic boy fidgets awkwardly, a problem flag the older girl has come to notice.

"It's not nothing if you look flustered about it. If you have something to say, say it."

"Annie, trust me, I really think you don't want to hear it. I-It's embarrassing…"

"I've seen you naked—we're naked now. How much more embarrassing can it possibly get?"

"I don't know…it just would."

She's tempted to flick his forehead to order him to tell her but the desire dissolves as quickly as it came. Armin has had enough aggression thrown at him and he doesn't need hers too, especially after she apologized for being so antagonistic toward him. She reviews over an idea.

Annie lifts her hand and gently runs her index finger down the bridge of this boy's pointed nose, lightly presses on the inclined peak which she finds appealing...and—oddly enough—cute, "Armin, if something is bugging you again, you can tell me. I won't force you to but I don't want you to be afraid of saying what's on your mind to me either. I know I can be insensitive but I also know to try and not be when you look so troubled."

He's so close, Annie can see the black pupil in Armin's widening blue depths shake, the space under his eyes a dull pink. Annie's hand falls and her thumb accidently brushes over his chin, a move which has Armin's breath catching. Maybe next time, she'll do that on purpose.

The hesitant soldier looks up to the ceiling, twiddling his thumbs, "I w-was um, thinking…" Armin starts, his building nerves shaking his words, "I was thinking that families are nice."

"Okay."

His thumbs keep twiddling, moving so quickly, Annie wonders if Armin's digits will catch on fire, "Have...have you ever thought about a family, Annie?"

"What's there to think about? There's only my Father."

"Um…" Armin's face is so flooded with heat, he could become another burning candle which lights up their room, "I didn't mean in the currently existing sense, Annie. I meant in the...hypothetical sense. Like, have a family in the future."

Annie stares, taking in what he's said. Her mouth then partially gapes and the borders of her eyes feel to have become wider than she's ever allowed herself to show.

She pulls back a little, "Wow, you move fast. Is...is that how quick all this is usually supposed to go?"

"You kept insisting so I-I just answered! Plus, I warned you up front that it was embarrassing…"

Annie rolls her sight away, nervous. She finds the stones to swing her attention back to him after a few moments, "...do you think about that often?"

"The thought creeps in sometimes. I think it's just when I feel lonely and I miss my parents or miss how things once were with Eren and Mikasa. I think too that maybe I could have had a younger sibling if things didn't happen as they did. If my brother or sister would look like me or have my Mom's hazel eyes. Other times…" Blue spheres dart to her and hot, anxious blood shoots through Annie before his attention flies away again, "I don't know. Like I said, it comes and goes."

Annie tries to hide it but she is uncomfortable. She hasn't planned her life past twenty and once again, what Armin is suggesting is...impossible.

"No," she answers truthfully but sadly, "I've never thought about having a family."

Armin nods, his nature always having him be so understanding, except Annie catches the flinch in his smile, "I understand why you wouldn't considering your position. Doesn't make any sense for me to think about a family either. Like I said, the thought comes and goes and it's been quieter since Trost. I wasn't trying to pressure or sway you, i-if you think I-I was," Armin's hand rubs over his face and lets out an upset mmph, "Ah...great. This is another time for you to remember when I made things weird again, isn't it? I'm sorry, Annie. I wasn't trying to be brazen by bringing this up, especially with what you want…"

A smile plays at the edge of her lips, "Don't worry. Nothing is ever subtle with you. I'm used to it."

The pull of his mouth is comforting and to the common eye, Armin's composure is calm and collected. But Annie spots the stiffness in his smile, the way his pupils shake from nervousness and something else she can't place. Annie's smile falls.

When she's around him, the debris field of her repressed emotions feels a fraction less messy and she wants the same for Armin, wants him to feel safe and at ease around her too. But like her, he keeps destroying himself and Annie fears Armin believes he is not just a burden, but also believes there is something wrong with him. She at least knows why her birth parents abandoned her—accepts it even—whereas Armin is still hurt, still has pain leftover from parents he loved while she never had the chance to love.

Annie upturns each memory rock in her head, searching for some helpful advice or gesture Sasha or Krista might say or do to make him feel better, something Mina might do...but nothing she remembers fits her; she'd come across as forcing it, would look and sound too fake.

Annie choses to lean down until her forehead bumps Armin's temple and gently, she rubs against him, "Stop overthinking so much, Armin," Annie surprises herself again—she's never heard her voice sound so vulnerable, so close to pleading, "It clouds your mind and makes you too upset. You've tortured yourself long enough and watching you do this to yourself...bothers me. It makes me feel nauseous. Just relax," Timidly, she kisses the end of one of Armin's thick, yellow eyebrows, "…please?"

There's no stark blush painting his cheeks, just a bug-eyed stare of surprise. His eyelids eventually droop halfway. He takes her other hand idling on his chest, squeezes lightly and Annie returns his hold with the same enthusiasm.

"Okay," he responds, "I'll try. I'm sor—"

Annie plugs his mouth with the back of his hand which is clasped to hers, "And don't say you're sorry either. I'm slow on these kinds of things...it's me who should keep saying sorry."

The boy beneath her moves their entangled fingers away from his mouth, "Annie, I can tell that aside from Trost you've been through a lot. I don't expect you to—"

"And," Annie interrupts him again, "Stop making excuses for how I've been acting. Like I said before, I'm a big girl. I can acknowledge my own mistakes and there are a lot. In how I've treated you or what I said to you—everything," her thumb brushes over his cheekbone—another unconscious move which came so naturally, "I...hope you're able to forgive me."

For that and so much else.

Armin is silent for a few uncomfortably long seconds. He then rests a curled finger over his chin, his cheeks spotted pink and expression thoughtful. He puts up his arms and extends them out into a wide V shape, "I think a hug would help me get there."

"...you're an even bigger dork than I thought."

Ocean-blue twinkle with glee as Armin's smile reveals two rows of teeth, "Yup, a gigantic dork who wants a hug. So? Deal?"

Amusement gusts through Annie's nostrils. Her arms lasso around Armin's neck tight enough to oh so carefully threaten death by asphyxiation—a strained noise gasping out of Armin as he repeatedly taps her shoulder to surrender—then she loosens her grip. Annie lays half on top of Armin, entwining their legs as her weight settles on his chest and time slows as Annie holds him, stays connected to the breezy, warm spring weather his soul emits and peace washes over her, spreads pleasant tingles along every nerve. But in the back of her skull, the savagery of duty thrashes, fights and yells to break free, to stop, but Annie ignores the voice, keeps Armin the center of her attention as his arms envelope her, his palm riding up and down the road of her spine. His lips lift for hers and Annie accepts, takes in the texture of him and plush softness of his lips. There's a drunken thrill to this complete wrongness, of enjoying the company of another despite her mission's demands, so let the voice be upset for once, see if she cares.

Armin freezes against her lips. His mouth tears from hers and his head twists about the room. When his eyes fix on the grandfather clock, the whites of his eyes become more visible than the color.

"C-Crap! I'm going to be late!" he tries to tug himself away, but Annie's legs and arms have wrapped around him and she doesn't budge, "Annie, let go! I'm serious!"

"It would help if you gave me the password," Annie says, unenergetic and bored, "Then I'll think about it."

"Annie!"

She puts out one hand and bounces her fingers up and down in a gesture to cough it up, "Password."

Armin's lips press into a thin line. His hand grabs the top of her knee, squeezes repeatedly and hard. Annie yelps sharply and jerks enough for Armin to slip out of her grip but not before her heel can shove on the middle of his back. Annie overhears a small laugh but it quickly transforms into nervous breathing as Armin scrambles up from the floor she kicked him onto, rushes to pick up his clothes.

"I-I'm sorry, Annie! I promised I'd meet everyone at the gates in twenty minutes! Reiner must already be looking for me too. Oh no…this isn't good!"

"Relax," Annie follows his lead and puts her pants back on, "I'm sure there's a way I can rush you over there," She takes out her jacket and points to the horse emblem on her shoulder. "This will get you a one- way ticket to where you need to be, remember?"

Armin pulls his shirt over his head, his forehead crinkling and mouth twisted with worry, "Annie, I have to be honest with you. I know you wanted to keep this quiet so I didn't tell anyone about us meeting. I finished what I had to do then duped Reiner so I could sneak away. If they find out I was here rather than where I'm supposed to be…"

"I get it. Don't worry. I'll take you to the carriages and order them to take you. You don't need me in the cart with you and I can find my way home. You'll make it in time."

Armin's panicked pupils stop shaking and the tension hunching his back has him straighten, "Thanks, Annie. I owe you one for this."

Annie shakes her head, "No, you don't. I owe you and Trost's military division owes you even more."

This soldier who has grown so much before her eyes gifts Annie with quite a sight, a small smile bearing an emotion she's hardly read off Armin before: pride.

She smirks a little. About time.

As the pair rushes out of the hotel and speed-walks the partially empty city streets, both of them see night looms over them. Annie remembers being scared most nights in her younger years, of when she stared into the endless void, saw how the darkness was so expansive and overwhelming, it threatened to fall on her, suck her into a form of bleaker, shadowy madness. The fear still creeps into her sometimes and depending on the day, being here on Paradis has helped her shove the terrors away...or make them ten-times worse.

"I hope I'm not intruding too much, Annie," Armin catches her attention and she turns her neck around to him, "But there was another thing which was bugging me. Mind if I ask?" her que for him to continue is a head-tilt, "Is…is 'that' the reason why you never spoke about your mother? You have a dad, sure. But you never really…" he trails off and Annie knows enough of what he means to fill in the blanks.

"I was born out of wedlock then both my biological parents put me up for adoption," Annie responds, genuinely unfeeling and uncaring, "Small, close-knit villages don't take kindly to children born out of marriage and an affair like I was." There she goes again, sticking to the facts so a person as perceptive as Armin can't tell.

"I wonder how many people in your village were almost born out of wedlock before their parents got married…" Armin speaks under his breath, sounding oddly resentful, "Most of us are accidents. Statistically speaking, I may have been too…but thinking about that is too disturbing."

The rise on the corner of her mouth is barely noticeable or felt but Annie's appreciation for trying to cheer her up his caught by Armin. He smiles back.

"Either way, I'm glad you were born, Annie—I'm glad someone took care of you too. To be left alone but be taken in and raised by someone else…" the smile rounding Armin's cheeks reaches his twinkling eyes, the sight summoning palpitations in Annie's heart, "You're kind of like me."

All Annie can return to this boy who sees everything so positively is a tiny, wistful smile. Armin's happiness fades, "Or…not."

"Your grandfather took good care of you—I'm glad he did. My father…" For a second, Annie's forearms and legs pulse, as if there was a bone-deep bruise still left behind from when she tried to block Father's relentless kicks, "How do you think I got this good at fighting, Armin? Using my imagination?"

Armin's sad expression conveys more than his words or apologies ever could. His fingers weave through hers and he squeezes tightly, "I'd trade places with you if I could, Annie."

Annie's condescending snort is so weak it sounds like a sigh, "Don't say that. You'd be silly to give up the sweet deal you had and you're already dumb for caring about an emotional slug like me."

Armin's hand closes around hers tighter and Annie reflexively grips him back. She mentally recycles her recent words then exhales through her nostrils. Armin's patience and tolerance of her attitude is another otherworldly thing—she's pissing herself off for treating him this way.

"Look…" Armin's focus on her keeps melting the ice which had surrounded Annie for years, even has her fidget, has her struggle to get out the words dancing on her tongue, "I uh...this whole thing..." Annie clenches her teeth. Out with it already, "This time with you was...nice. If there was another time you had open...then I'd like to do this again. The sex too—duh—but..." she rubs and clenches her arm to scare off surviving hesitation, "Just talking to you was nice too. It was..." What's a different word than nice, damn it? "...relaxing."

Armin stops and stares, his surprise expanding every feature on his face. Shock then shifts into such potent joy, stars could be trapped in his eyes. Annie rushes her sight to the side, her cheeks running hot again.

The crunch of gravel from something approaching her brings Annie's back chin up and his lips are on hers so quickly, her surprised noise runs down his throat. They stay connected, breathe each other in for a few moments, then it hits her — Armin is kissing her in public.

"Armin," she shoves him back and there isn't horror in his face like last time—Annie sees giddiness and playful mischief. The hot lava flow of rage flushes Annie's cheeks and neck.

"That's it," she growls, "You've pissed me off for the last time. I'm bringing my cuffs next time so if you try to kiss me in public or repeat any sappy poetry, I'm bringing you in."

Armin is locked on her, blank-faced and blinking rapidly, "...I, um...that kind of stuff has crossed my mind before but I wasn't sure you'd like that, Annie. If that's what you want though, I won't argue."

"You-" Annie wonders if her hair is standing up from how her molten fury grows, flies through her. "And you have the balls to call me lewd," Armin laughs even as her hand grips his jaw and shakes his face. "You've got a filthy mouth yourself, Arlert, and it doesn't suit your baby face. I should make you swallow soap."

"I don't know. I think what would really help me learn my lesson is if you take the reins like earlier. Getting dom'd is pretty emasculating for men, you know..."

"Bull. Shit. You were more than willing to have me on top of you. And just for trying to be sly, you are doing all the work next time."

Nearby, a vendor sweeping outside his store glances over at the two, his frown and confused eyebrow rise hinting he's annoyed—or disgusted—at overhearing them. Annie digs her forehead into her palm, flustered while Armin continues laughing.

Annie puts on her hoodie, trying to hide her burning face, "Congratulations, you've won the crown from Eren. You're the undisputed King of Idiots."

Armin pauses. He straightens up and gives Annie a salute, "Ready to serve."

"Pff. Stupid."

A lightning-quick peck to her nose is how he retaliates and Annie outcries from shock louder than she thought she ever could. Armin's laughter reaches a higher pitch and it's easily growing into one of the most pleasant noises she's ever heard – how annoying that it's at her expense. Her hand lands on his cheek, keen to shove him away and make him stop—she doesn't. Her palm stays glued on him, takes in how warm and soft his skin feels. Her fingers are mostly steady, fan out and slide back together a little, and Armin gently rubs his cheek into her palm.

Common sense claws at the back of her head how they're in public—she needs to stop. But Annie's yearning overcomes instinct; her hoodie blocks her face, everyone else on the streets are gone and businesses are closed to meet the curfew. Annie tilts her chin up and Armin bows until their lips touch. This is the second time a shroud of stormy fog and a rabid dog urge don't overtake Annie—she takes her time, glides and reconnects as slowly as Armin as done to her; it's spirit-freeing, bone-melting. She's gaining a preference for kissing him this way.

The distant clomping of boots has the two cadets pulling away. A cluster of soldiers stand outside the textile factory down the street and Annie sees more running through alleyways which wind through the back of the building. Annie cranes her neck to look behind Armin as more soldiers move and yell loudly at each other.

"Is this the Garrison's attempt at a raid?" she scoffs, "They're awfully loud about it."

"I don't know," Armin says, confused, "But I do wonder...before I dodged Reiner, I noticed there weren't many police at the Garrison headquarters. They were even closing up early. Were they corralling all the troops in Trost together? Did they finally find who was raiding the farms?"

Only one thing from what Armin said grabbed Annie's attention, "...Reiner came with you?"

"Yes. I told you earlier—I had to give him the slip and considering the circumstances of it, I don't think he will want me to bring it up when I see him again."

"...right, I forgot is all," Annie aims herself away from the crowd. If Reiner is still lurking about, she can't afford to be seen.

Annie notices Armin stiffen. His brows ruffle, seemingly puzzled, then rise, a realization sparkling in his eyes. He takes one step further, his eyes glued forward, "Hugo…" he whispers, his tone mystified but...happy? "Hannes."

Annie glances over her shoulder to where Armin is looking. A rotund Garrison official stands next to a taller blond man. The fat brunette sneaks a hand into his jacket, pulls out a metal flask but his slimmer companion snatches it, the yellow mustache over the tall man's lip pulling down with his frown, "You know them?"

Armin's nod is far more fervent than she expected. "I've known both of them since I was really small. Hannes especially—the tall one. It's been ages since the last time I saw him...I'm so glad to see he's well," A man with a goatee and curled, brown hair above his undercut cuts between Armin's childhood friends and the young Corpsman jerks. So quick as the happiness in his eyes came, it vanishes, "Ah, that man again..."

"Another one? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were some kind of snitch for the Garrison before you joined the military," Annie inspects the man with an undercut and arrogant sneer, "Still, it's weird how as a kid, you of all people befriended government officials."

"They're not bad people," Armin defends, his sentence spoken so resolutely, her vision snaps back to him from surprise, "Hannes and Hugo were nice to us when we were kids, even helped us a couple of times. Hannes saved Eren and Mikasa's lives too. They're just...you know, lazy and selfish." Annie isn't sure if that's an indirect insult at her—she's no different from the two men, after all—but Armin keeps scratching his temple, his palm tactfully positioned to cover his face, "I don't even think that man Eren kicked in the shin is bad either. Just mean-spirited, maybe."

Annie blinks at Armin, "...Eren kicked a government official...in the shin."

"...yes."

"Were both of youignoring me the entire time I bothered to teach you something useful? It's insulting he didn't use something more effective if he's going to be so damn daring."

"W-We were just kids when that happened! He was angry and that man didn't exactly say nice things about us refugees. I get why Eren did it—that man was saying terrible things—but..."

"Let me guess, he charged in and almost got you into a bigger stink," Armin nods and strands of platinum blond blow up from Annie's exhale, "Even as a kid he was stirring up trouble. Can't say I'm surprised."

"You've got a squealer in your ranks boys!" The goateed official yells loud enough for them to hear, "The hunt stops here! This is your last chance to surrender peacefully! The entire street is blocked off and you're surrounded by soldiers! Time to join your brothers in the jails! There is no possibility of escape!"

"...he does realize that him announcing all that and wasting time is probably letting them escape, right?" Annie observes, irritated.

"I think each Training division differs in the teaching quality and his education might not have been so great..." Armin scans their surroundings. "But look around. I don't think I've seen these many police before for one raid. They even have some soldiers with maneuver gear on the rooftops."

Annie frowns, evaluates her surroundings. The amount of police puts her on edge, anxiety of having been found out sitting in her stomach like a brick. The stupid soldier who yells also keeps droning on and she's fed up.

"I can see why Eren hit this idiot. I'm tempted to do the same thing. This guy thinks he's putting himself on a pedestal to everyone but all he's doing is buying the criminals time."

"For the senseless murders and food shortages you've induced alongside pillaging government property, you will be sentenced to the guillotine! How's that for motivation?! Come out or we'll drag you out!" The building is silent, withholding an answer. The goateed man strokes his pointed chin and smirks, "Suit yourself then!"

The man so proud of his threats waves his hand forward to direct his troops in. A horde of Garrison gunmen rush into the factory all while the man sneers, takes out what looks like a cigarette pack and retreats into a nearby alley to enjoy. Annie pays attention to the duo Armin grew up with. The two prepare to charge but the fatter friend clasps his hand over his mouth, his cheeks flooding green. He teeters then breaks out into a sprint toward them and Annie's neck snaps forward like she has a sudden itch to avoid eye contact. She closely watches Armin's gaze—how it enlarges then travels to the side. From a side-glance, she watches as the taller, blond soldier shouts and runs after his friend who vomits at the street corner across from them.

"They always did drink too much…" A tired breath gusts out of Armin, "They haven't changed at all. Come on, let's leave them to it. I don't think they'd want me to say hello to them when they're like this."

Finally.

They show the Garrison their backs and make it a couple steps forward then it hits Annie—an instinct which spider-skitters down Annie's back, shivers her shoulders. A bright yellow flash knives her eyes first. An eardrum-bursting blast shakes the air and ground next, lurching her and Armin forward with their heads ducking. Another roaring blast-wave has Annie covering her ears, the blood in her bones rippling from the aftershock. She and Armin snap their necks around.

The first story of the textile factory is obliterated, overcome with fire and plagued with bricks falling off the support columns. The upper levels are in flames and the police down below are in disarray, panicking if there are any survivors. The building's right-side collapses, the higher floors of glass and brick tumble inward then the upper levels finally fall, the building cannibalizing itself down and down until the destruction reaches the ground and a grey-black dust cloud shoots up high, rushes outward through the narrow streets.

Annie and Armin cough from the thick smokescreen. She can't see anything…but there are noises. There's an outcry from the police, a rising uproar and chant which rises in volume all around them. The sound of a gunshot rips through the air, then a barrage of chest-shaking bullet-volleys follow after. Fight-or-flight overtakes every muscle in Annie's body.

She grabs Armin's hand.