Me? Updating under a month time-frame? What is this blasphemy.
Watching Annie's OVA Lost girls would help understand this next bit but I believe I've explained it enough in this chapter for those who haven't seen it to follow along. Enjoy!
"I was on my way back to the gates." Annie informs the investigator sitting across from her. "Trying to get to a carriage to take me back to Stohess. That's when..." Her own memory of the textile building falling and bullets tearing through civilians passes by her eyes, "I had to hide out in a house until the worst of the riots passed. I found a stray horse from there. The rioters probably let them go or killed the rest of the horses so no one could run."
"And you saw nothing else?" The Military Police officer presses her, his expression stern, "You didn't see any of the culprits? Didn't see anything odd when you were passing through the gates or on your way here?"
"I didn't see anything."
"The Commander has flowed down to us that the Sons of Fenrir owned that textile factory. We also discovered they were paying off officials in all three military factions to withhold that information for years. Odds are those men manufactured some of the Military Police clothes and snuck out. You didn't see anyone who looked suspicious or out of place?"
Annie shakes her head, "Like I said before—I saw nothing."
The investigator pauses, nods. He takes his time penning down his notes in his books. Annie sits back in her chair, clacking her nails on the table's shoddy wooden polishing. She's tired and is actively fighting against the heaviness of her head and falling eyelids, "Can I go now? I haven't slept since I came back and you've kept me here for over 24 hours now."
The man resumes writing for another minute, like he didn't even hear her. He sets down his pen, clasps his hands together, leans toward her. Black eyes hardened by the unsavory investigative tactics of the Police are glued on hers, monitoring and judging her like Annie does to him. The other officer behind her is dead-silent and the room fills with silence and tension, grows heavier and heavier. Annie wonders if this is their way of saying the walls are closing in—they know she's lying and this five-year charade she's been upkeeping won't fool them anymore.
She doesn't even flinch.
"Of course. You may go now." The man stands and tucks his notebook under his arm, "Though there is one thing." Annie quirks a brow as the man motions for the soldier outside to open the interrogation room door, "The Captain wants a word with all of you. I suggest you fall in line with the others, cadet."
Annie eyes the man oddly as he departs with the soldier following close behind. When she walks out into the corridor, a line of cadets—bleary-eyed and rustled awake three hours before dawn—travel down the corridor to the lower level dungeons. Annie follows them until each rookie stands outside the prison bars of a large cell. Out of everyone else in the crowd, Annie stands next to Hitch and Marlowe who are as half-awake and confused as her.
In the middle of the cage, a tall man of medium build is chained to the chair and the other is a blond kid who wears the same outfit they do—it's Boris's friend, a fellow cadet. The cell door is thrown open and Annie and her troupe watch as folded piles of laundry are carried in and set on a long table.
Their Captain picks up a set of folded military wears, holds it out to the crowd of rookies, "You all know what this is, yes?" The cadets exchange awkward glances at each other, confused, "This looks like all your undies wrapped up nice and neat, doesn't it? The people who were on duty for this really did a fine job." He lets the clothes fall and they land on the floor with a slap and an ever so slight clunk. The space between Annie's brows pinches. "Sounds odd, doesn't it?" The tip of their superior's boot slides the shirt to the side, kicks the cloth-flaps over. In between the folded clothes is a small, brown package, "What do you all think that is?"
The room goes deathly quiet. Their superior's glare and scanning of everyone's face births a tension so smothering, it's like a noose is slowly tightening against one's neck.
"We knew the Sons of Fenrir infiltrated Trost but to find a mole within our ranks leaching off them and pumping their filth into our city is...disappointing. Even by our standards," The Captain points to the broad-shouldered man behind him, "We found this man unloading cargo which hid this filth then found contraband and money from someone who was one of you. A supposed 'comrade.' How none of you detected a rat amongst your own peers should shame you—you're supposed to be the best and brightest of your regiments, aren't you?"
Annie doesn't care and Hitch appears dismayed; Marlowe, on the other hand, seethes. Even from where she stands, Annie can hear the harsh grit and grind from Marlowe's clenched jaw.
"But rather than just imprison these two," the Captain continues, "We thought we should show you what happens when you aid and abet troublemakers."
"This is the first test of your wills, kiddies." The second officer scowls. He slips on a set of blood-encrusted, brass knuckles as he faces the terrified cadet. The Captain next to him does the same, "If any of you look away, don't expect breakfast."
The wham from a right hook to the boy's cheek knocks out a tooth, has the other juniors around Annie flinch and yelp. The other officer slams his wooden knuckles into the older man's nose and he grunts, coughs. They strike the prisoners when they get an answer they don't like, bark more questions at them—the officers also keep punching when the prisoners provide no answers. Minutes pass and blood has speckled the floor, has eroded the microscopic patience of the interrogators.
"Talk damn it!" Wood knuckles drill into the young man's cheek. The shuddering of breath and shaking from metal zippers on clothes chimes all around Annie, "Think we wouldn't eventually weed out your little network, huh? You smuggle your shit into our shit? You scum have got some balls. Talk!"
"It wasn't me…" the younger boy gargles through his wheezing, "I-I don't know how that stuff was in my room. It— "
A punch to the cadet's gut silences his words but not his outcry of pain. The older man is more resilient; with every crunch of his nose cartilage and wham of wood against bruising skin, he doesn't speak whereas his accomplice sobs. Meanwhile, all the cadets observe, shiver in their spots.
"The kid does something shitty so he's beaten for it..." Hitch judges with a tremoring frown, "All without vetting an alibi first. What kind of stupid point are they trying to make? This will make him talk for sure."
"If your stomach and resolve is so weak then look away, Hitch," Marlowe judges her back, "These slime bags perpetuated the food shortage and now soldiers and civilians are either wounded or dead. The civilians of Trost don't even believe us anymore. They think these wretches gave them the opportunity for justice," Thick, black eyebrows narrow harshly, "A beating is the most benign thing these two can be given at this point. Why are you being so defensive of traitors anyway?"
A wry smile spreads over Hitch's lips, "Call it my 'professional' opinion. If the person is going to plant evidence, they should at least have the accused match the crime. That kid is an arrogant prick but he's harmless. But I wouldn't expect you to see that, Marlowe."
Hitch jerks as the boy the same age as them is struck again, cries out. She bows her head, noticeably distressed.
"Look at the wall or above the head if you can't look at them in the face." Annie recommends.
Hitch hesitates, "Does that help you?"
"No. But maybe it will help you."
Another crack of bone and a howl has Hitch slamming her eyes shut, "...you two are made of something else. This is disgusting."
Hitch pales with each passing second while Marlowe's harsh beliefs downturn his lips fiercely. Annie doesn't need to try to keep up her usual expression: calm and undisturbed. This is how it is, even back home. She sneaks a quick glance toward Boris who witnesses the beating at her side.
Boris is subpar at his poker face; there's an ever-so slight tremor in his jaw, a focus in taking advice he likely overheard—he's staring above their fellow cadet's head. Annie's eyes dart back to the prison cell when Boris shifts to her - the sixth sense everyone has to someone starting. She wonders if Boris is scared he'll get caught for framing his friend or maybe he's distracted by an even worse thought, distracted by the same thing Annie wonders—could Boris foresee this? She saw him pass that note to those men in the alley days ago, the supposed "mole" who said the Military Police identified them and passed the info to Trost to deal with. Didn't Boris have the foresight to know such a leak could result in such devastating consequences? Annie wants to say yes, but like everything else in this life, she isn't sure. For all she knows, it was only Boris's way of getting money quickly.
"Where have your buddies run off too, huh?" The Captain interrogates the boy, frustrated and panting, "There's more of you hiding out somewhere. You fucks are like a damn cancer. We scrape you out of the Underground then you just spread out into the other districts."
The other officer clutches the older man's shirt collar and shakes him, "Talk! Or you'll be submitted to torture like the rest of your scum friends!"
The drug trafficker's shoulders shake—he's chuckling. He inhales deep then a glob of red spit splashes on the officer's cheek. A wham from a fist lands against the side of the man's face, knocking him to the dirty, prison floor. His fat lip worsens and purple eye bleeds, but he keeps laughing.
"I said talk, you mother-." One officer pulls the man up by his hair and yanks back to look at him, a move which forces the prisoner's mouth open. Both of the MP's heads jerk back, "Ah shit."
Annie and every other cadet notice and there is one girl in the crowd who shrieks: the man's tongue has been cut out—a promise he would not divulge any secrets of his group. His gurgled chuckles become harsh, gut-deep laughs and he does it all in front of the Captain's face.
The pair of soldiers yell and move in front of the man, striking and kicking either because they lost another chance at getting information on the other gang members or the trafficker is annoying them. Again, Annie doesn't know. This is simply the way some interrogations go and judging by their group, Marlowe and her are the least affected.
Annie wonders how Armin would have reacted to this—he might have stepped in front of the officers, even for such a foul person…actually, maybe Armin would have allowed a beating until it was clear that a line had been crossed and he understood physical harm had no further effect; she would do the same thing. Thinking about Armin has the small girl's eyebrows and chin fall—it's only been a day and she misses him. She knows Bertolt would have guided him to safety but that side of her still aches, worries—she won't be satisfied until she sees for herself that Armin is alright.
Maybe she'll write the letter first this time.
The two MPs wrestle to get the man back up and block Annie's view as they lift his limp body. The man grunts when placed back in the chair and as the men move to the side, Annie's heart stops; she can feel the air brushing against her ever-widening eyes.
She doesn't see the drug trafficker anymore; she sees Father sitting in the chair, limp, bleeding, and toothless.
"If what the current holder of the Female Titan is saying is true, then this is quite a bind you are in, Mr. Leonhardt." The Captain has transformed into Zeke. He stands before her father, strikes a match against a nearby wall to settle the flame under his cigarette, "Annie always was adept at gathering information. But fornicating with the enemy...that's just treasonous."
Father's grin is shaky but haughty, grows wider as a dark chuckle leaves him. "Like you two weren't some hormonal teenager," he cackles, his voice rough and tired, "Don't tell me you didn't get up the skirt of someone you shouldn't have when you were young."
Magath's knuckles ram into Father's jaw. Father wheezes as Magath fingers crick then close into a fist. "Of course, it happens." The general says. He's calm; always calm. "That's how your daughter exists in the first place, Mr. Leonhardt. But Marleyan philandering was never with a Paradisian. If anything, you Eldians hate those island devils more than the rest of the world. But even for someone as aloof as your daughter, her doing this puzzles me," Magath crosses him arms tightly, "This whole situation is disappointing. I viewed Annie as an intelligent and fierce fighter, not some floozy who couldn't keep her legs shut."
Father's expression flinches but he laughs again, this time weaker, "Like I said...kids do stupid things, just like us adults. You can't kill me because she finished her duty for you bastards. We're Honorary Marleyans and you two are bound to protect me under Marleyan law." His breathing is haggard as he stares at the ceiling. A wet shine glosses his eyes, "Annie succeeded...brought back the Founder. She came home...she came home and you...you don't get to sully my daughter's memory!"
Father rushes to stand but a thwack of Magath's forearm to the back of Father's neck throws him and the chair he's bound to down to the floor. Magath's boot crunches on Father's head, pushes him farther to the ground but he struggles, his scowl ferocious as he wriggles with anger. A gust of cigarette smoke blows out from Zeke's lips.
"I'm sympathetic, Mr. Leonhardt," Zeke says, his pity genuine but too silk-smooth for Annie's comfort, "Truly, I am. But your daughter's successor is quite a big mouth and is eager to please the brass. I wouldn't be surprised if all of Liberio has heard of Annie's treachery already. Then there is the issue of our allies discovering a Warrior had sexual and intimate relations with an Island devil. We can kiss their added military strength and funding good-bye. I was excited to make a few toys out of those funds too..." Zeke scratches behind his ear. "What a mess we're in. Magath, Marleyan status or not, I don't believe I need to tell you what needs to be done here."
Magath frowns deeply, "For you to even suggest you'd need to do so is insulting. Has your declining life finally eroded those priceless brains of yours, Boy Wonder?"
Zeke bows his head apologetically but his eyes remain calculating, cold, "Not at all. I'm simply emphasizing the gravity of the situation, sir."
Annie's rapid heart could erupt through her chest as Magath shoves a magazine into his handgun and racks the slide back, cementing the gun is loaded and live.
"All of this is such a shame, really," Zeke laments as Magath moves his foot and aims the barrel of the gun at Father's head. "Annie worked so hard too."
"Annie? Hellooooo? Annie!"
There's a hard, repetitive poke in Annie's left arm, "Hello, hello, hello?! Earth to Annie!" Hitch inserts her face in front of the smaller girl. Annie blinks rapidly. Everyone is gone and the only ones remaining in the room are Marlowe, Hitch, and her. "What's eating you? You went from flour-white to ghost-pale quicker than Marlowe loses a date."
Marlowe harrumphs, "Duty is lost on everyone these days. If a woman doesn't find organizing military records important, then she wasn't worth my time anyway."
"Marlowe, that girl I set you up with was by far the loosest girl in the MP and she still dropped you. That's saying something."
"Bah! If she is a friend of yours, all the more reason for me to be rid of her."
Hitch shakes her head while Annie remains silent. She has to take in small, controlled breaths, compose herself carefully. Fatigue must be playing tricks on her mind.
"...I'm fine." Annie finally responds, her voice quiet, "Just...tired. I haven't slept since I came back."
Hitch's brows lower, scanning the smaller girl. She sighs and her always fluffy, brown hair sways with her headshake, "Whatever you say. At least this shit-fest is finally done. I need a nap and a hot shower. Maybe that will get all those nasty images out of my head."
Annie's feet move for her in following Hitch while her head whirls.
Father's bruised face is what could happen if the wrong memory floods into the next Female Titan holder's mind. The chance is slim but it's a chance and all these years spent on this island would have been wasted. There's no such thing as mercy in Marley and everything is at risk because she let herself indulge in living as she's so often nagged by her roommate. Now...she's created a threat against the only family she has, has to abandon what she didn't mean to create.
What she's doing to Armin...it's no different than what her birth mother did to her and Annie feels filthy.
Hitch shoves a letter into Annie's chest before seeking refuge in the showers. She flips over the letter and the bridge of her nose pinches—the sending address is from Trost. Tearing open the top, Annie pulls out the letter and recognizes the writing immediately. It's a boring tale about life in the Survey Corp, one where clues are hidden in paragraphs: this is from Reiner. Annie reads, notices the mention of an expedition beyond the walls, how Reiner feels anxious and wishes she was there to help Bertolt and him be more prepared to win. Annie's grip tightens around the envelope.
She's about to hate herself even more.
To say Hitch's favor is annoying is a gross understatement — tedious doesn't describe it well either.
Annie travels to see a merchant who is searching for his missing daughter— Carly Stratmann. Annie then scans through the towering books of the MP document storeroom to find any information on her and her readings lead Annie to some mangy edge of the slums where thugs eye her body, try to touch her, but the wrist she grabs is her trophy before victory. Imposing a dislocated arm and several internal bruises later, Annie doesn't get Carly but finds out where her lover is instead.
She plans out the rest of her day and rests on a bench in front of a fountain for lunch. An unpleasant shiver rushes over Annie as she eats. It happens at random but Marco's face invades her focus; so do the bodies of those who were eaten, shot, and burned all throughout her life. But in this never-ending mission, her death count will grow tomorrow, and this time, it will be the Survey Corp. More blood will thicken her hands and knowing so worsens Annie's nerves, has her confused on why she's acting like a soldier and bothering to help Hitch find this girl when the end is so close.
Recalling Armin's gaze is what pins Annie down from worrying too much. She recalls how his fingers fiddled with her hair, the soft, linen feel of his skin on hers. It's absolutely vile but even with the promise that she may be his end, Armin's closeness is what helps push away the worst of what she sees in her head.
Annie stands and resumes her tasks.
She finds the empty apartment of Carly's lover quickly. A buzzing instinct has her searching the man's closet and she finds a stash of drugs he kept. Then her senses bite her again. Annie goes on all fours, peaks underneath the bed and the lover of Carly says hello with wide and dead, glazed eyes. Her panic almost exposes her but she composes herself quickly, flees back to the carriage when the street and apartments are silent. The headaches of today don't end when Annie reaches the carriage; she's taken by surprise by a group of thugs who wait for her. They look familiar and then this idiot with spiky hair takes her ring. If she has to, she'll kill him first.
As she's held captive in the moving carriage, the fedora-wearing leader performs mind game crap but Annie bears it if it means getting the upper hand. This man named Wald is smart, catches her in each bluff she puts forward to gain leverage; "she's interfering with his work" he says and his words make who this man is clearer to Annie. But these drug vermin disguised as hired hands aren't as smart as they'd like to think.
Lou tests the sharp point of her ring against her skin, thinking it's been dipped in poison. Annie slashes herself upon contact—summons the electric crack of a titan formation—and one titan arm punching through the carriage destroys everything; Annie's only regret is she didn't aim her shapeshifting limb at the spiky-haired idiot, Lou.
After ripping her arm from the steaming tendons of her Titan, Annie approaches Wald who rests against a wall, unable to stand. It's unmistakable – this man's build, name, and voice is identical to the one she saw spur a riot in Trost. Annie entertains the idea of poking his wound too—see how he likes it—after she asks, "Where is Carly Stratman?" but a gunshot stops Annie dead in her tracks.
Not literally though. She's just never been shot through the heart before and her bullet-wound is painful.
Annie collapses, plays dead on the floor. As she lies against the pavement, she wonders what Armin is doing right now - if he's safe, if he's sleeping well - while the lack of chivalry amongst scum plays its hand against Wald. Lou shoots his boss, guaranteeing him the seat as gang leader. Annie stands when the coast is clear and asks where Carly Stratmann is again.
"First you rob me of my legs and now my plans…" Wald coughs. Bits of blood fall down onto his collar as he lifts a cigarette to his mouth, "Heh. An eye-for-an eye, I suppose. I just...can't seem to win. First that damn Colossus then those military brats. Now you," His head rests against the wooden planks of the wall, staring up into the evening sky, "And I was so close...too…but maybe it's not so bad." he hacks again while Annie stands, observes. "At least everything is calm now. I can see Father...my...son…"
The cigarette dangling from his lips fizzles out as does the rest of Wald's life. For the nth time, Annie feels...nothing would be too harsh of a description—it's more like she's detached. He's lower than roaches but Wald is an exhausting reminder of what she's done - of the lives her group destroyed or snuffed out - and Annie wonders if this piece of human-debris may not have been so horrid had his son still been here.
From then on, it's a never-ending twister of annoyances and letting out pent up stress through her fists. Annie finds where Lou is hiding and kicks one of his goons so hard, his intestinal tract is sure to be bruised; she cracks a jaw with her thrusting elbow and a high-kick knocks another goon back. The only fun to be had is toying with Lou, to slam him on his back and press cold metal from the gun he once pointed at her into his mouth. She pushes down and says, "Bang" and so easily, he flounders like a fish on land and chokes before passing out.
"Are you done?" A female voice asks from behind.
Annie stands from hovering over the unconscious Lou. This girl she agonized over finding is taller, has the air of being haughty and dresses as well - if not better - than Hitch. Annie expected to be bored at this point yet there is an odd connection as Annie asks why Carly manufactured and sold drugs within this town.
"Dad lost everything five years ago…" she recalls with a smile albeit a solemn one, "I did it to help pick himself back up. But that's also why I have to leave. If I stay by dad's side, I can't avoid helping him. Those stupid big lugs back at the tavern will buy what I make—what Dad promised to not sell here—and I don't want to hurt them anymore than they already have." The older girl winks at Annie, "So could you pretend that you didn't find me?"
A random shiver shakes Annie. They've only spoken for a few minutes and Annie sees how Carly's father doesn't understand her or consider her feelings any better than Annie's own. But this girl helped her father's financial struggles by producing this competing drug Wald fought to counter. It sounds...frightfully familiar—like what she was forced to do to help Father's living standards in Marley—but Annie assumes Carly's bond comes from a more natural father-daughter relationship, not complete obedience.
Annie grants Carly's passage out of Stohess then when all the loose ends of this mission are finally closed and tied, Annie walks down to the showers.
She wonders if Carly is her in another form, what she could have been had she been given a normal upbringing—if mother kept her. If Annie had Carly's skills of making protective friends like the ones from the bar and speaking suavely, maybe she'd connect with people better, know what to talk about when they ask how she is. And if she was raised that way— if she didn't need to capture Eren— if her and Armin met in Marley or were born as a non-Eldian outside of this place…
Annie screws her eyes shut, shakes her head. She turns on the water spout and hot water blasts over her head.
She can't afford any more distractions. Not for what waits for her in a few hours. Like she's done for so many years, all of it has to be pushed into the deepest, farthest spot in her mind.
Numbness to death is an adhesive she's never really washed completely off and it remains stuck to Annie still. The countryside she runs through would be peaceful had she not summoned the titans lurking here. The soldiers she eliminates aren't too much trouble either—the crunch of her clenching hand kills one soldier quick and swinging the other man head-first to the floor stops his yelling; this is a trade for them needing to die while she is in this form.
Everyone looks like that cricket she smushed under her foot: flat, bleeding, and void of life. She doesn't know these men—she doesn't care too much although her brain stings at the line drawing down against it; the mental mark of more tallies to her kill count. She's robbed of feeling right now but their faces will haunt her later.
Then there is another rider, one who flees quickly from her. She sprints and as she closes in, she can't make out the face—she can't kill unless she knows for certain it's not Eren. The ground booms from her foot-stomp in front of the rider. He yelps, topples off his horse and onto the ground.
The trembling of his spine is evident as she reaches for the Scout, pulls back the Corpsman's hood. Inside her titan, Annie's breathing halts.
Eyes she remembered being so serene and calm are petrified. As sweat runs down his temples, Marco's pleading expression flashes over this boy's face; how Marco pleaded with his eyes, his expression terrified and begging to understand why...it's how Armin is looking at her right now.
"Have you started to feel compassion for this evil race, Annie?!" Reiner yells in her head. "Prove me wrong, right here!"
Leave it to her memory and decade-long instincts to remind her—she's a Warrior. She isn't allowed to let personal feelings guide her actions. There is no question or objection she can propose which should stop her from stomping this Paradisan into meat-paste like the others.
...but Reiner isn't here; neither is Bertolt or Zeke or anyone else from back home who could monitor her. It's only Armin and her and for what might be the last time, she's stuck in familiar sea depths. Annie recalls everything this boy has done: his quick-wits which helped their entire team eradicate titans within the oxygen tank store room back in Trost, his bravery to defend his friends and offer his heart to the Garrison even as they threatened him with death by canons, how he saw her—saw through the cracks in the walls she puts up—and went after her anyway...
She glances over her shoulder. She doesn't see anyone coming—the rumble and creak of her Titan body is loud as her tree-trunk legs rise. Without looking at him, Annie sprints away.
If she is capable of making her own choice then she'll take this one time. It's not like she completely spared him either—the Titans she summoned will likely end him anyway…but her other side hopes by some freak chance, he'll remain unharmed.
Fatigue of running washes over Annie so she slows down, jogs to regain her energy. She enjoys the openness of the countryside again—so free of the blemishes humanity and society leave behind; there's just green, lively land to explore. This must be what Armin and Eren dreamed the outside world was like—barren of human life and a blank landscape yet to be mapped on paper. Annie tries to imagine the same and admittedly, it's soul-lifting, calming even. Her hand twitches. She recalls Armin's phantom grip, how he could tug on her hand to pull her forward, to come with him on his journey. It's a dream and another trick upon her mind...but it's peaceful, so soothing to stay in.
Her peace doesn't last long.
She hears the clop-clop-clop of horses advancing at her posterior and one of them is closing in. Her senses sharpen. Annie spins around and as the other rider gasps—tries to gallop away—she slams her hand into his horse. He flies off, pounds back down onto the ground and rolls. When he stops, Annie crouches next to the prey she's dismounted.
The needle-point of remorse pierces her; it's him again and, damn it, this is why she never wanted him here in the first place. Armin's eyes grow large as the blood running from his forehead stains the grass below him. He's chased her again and Annie self-reflects on if she should really be so surprised—he was engrossed in her mystery before although in a less monstrous form.
But she can't get caught. Her fists ball in frustration and she wonders if her Titan trembles like she does within these muscle-vines right now. He's too smart to be left alive. She's left him with no choice. She has to do this...
Her hands refuse to move.
A hook pierces Annie's shoulder blade. She twists around—Jean is blasting toward her, his expression fierce. She never did get a chance to get back at him for calling her a dwarf or insulting her nose; unfortunately, this may be how she will do it and not her human kick or punch like she preferred. Her titan hand clenches and she throws it backward. He dodges by the skin of his teeth and so soon when he transitions to her other side, she has an opening. Annie's fist closes—she swings her forearm back again.
"Jean, get revenge! Avenge that suicidal bastard!"Annie's forearm screeches to a halt. Within her titan, Annie's eyes narrow. He can't mean… "She's the one who trampled my best friend! I saw him sticking to the bottom of her foot!"
Impossible is Annie's first reaction and Jean appears just as confused as she is within her nape-Titan chamber. If she crushed Eren, she would have known—she's been more than meticulous on who she's killed. Did the Titans she summoned on the right flank do too thorough of a job? Did she possibly…?
No, this intelligent commander Reiner briefed her on wouldn't place Eren in a section of the formation which was so risky and easily exposed to a Titan attack—he'd be safe, protected. Another question is where is their Captain? Annie isn't sure—she can't guess anything. She also can't run into each flank to check for Eren then decimate all its inhabitants while Armin's Ackerman friend and the Scout's Captain are floating about this formation. This is exhausting.
The whistle of an anchor flying and digging into her nape yanks Annie out of thought. Her chin and vision rise. Reiner—his lips downturned and eyes flaring with fake rage—greets her. He looks ridiculous acting as heroic as he does now—she can't keep down a tiny smile; he always did have an act to play.
She grabs him in mid-air, tightens the fingers she has under his arms. She moves her thumb over his head, a mute promise how she can crush his skull like a grape. Armin and Jean panic below but it's the visible horror stretching Armin's eyes and mouth which has her heart plummeting. An explosion of blood erupts from her hand. Finally, Reiner is good for something. Through the mist of her finger-less hand, she sees "center-rear" scribbled in the steaming meat of her palm.
She allows his friends to gaze in awe of Reiner's escape—what he always wanted, even as a child—then stands. Annie runs away from Armin and his group, and this time, they would be wise to stay away from her.
The one horror I don't see talked about often (or perhaps it is and I'm simply IA too often) is how dangerous sharing Titan memories can be—how at random, regardless that being blood relatives increases the likelihood of you seeing anything, you see through another person's eyes. Put the wrong memory in the wrong person's hand and I don't doubt it could spell the end for your family even if you served Marley faithfully.
Weak dude…
There are also quite a few guest reviews I am not able to respond to so I would like to address them here: Thank you to you all! I wish I had a name to call you by so I could address it on a more personal basis but I appreciate your compliments to this story's essence, the characters being in-character, and an overall appreciation for this story. Thank you all again! I have to admit, my fear of them NOT being in character is my #1 concern in this story. I am glad in your eyes I have succeeded!
Till next time!