Chapter 30
Sieglinde XI – Daredevil
"Hey, stranger."
She stops by the threshold, snow in her hair. "You've gut some guts showing up at the Scouts."
Erik laughs, bronze eyes gleaming. "I told you, I had orders."
"And I told you, I had permission."
"Yeah, well, Commander Nile missed you for about three days." He follows her up the massive staircase in the foyer and keeps chattering all the way to her room on the fourth floor. He wears warm clothes, all thick scarf and gloves. "So, how was the little vacation back in the Scouts? Got the chance to settle down with the new boyfriend?"
"I hardly understand why you ask too many questions about Levi."
"Just curious, is all." He shrugs and helps her by opening the door. "So, how was it?"
"Are you jealous?"
"I might be." He laughs.
"Whatever. It's none of your concern, Lussier," she snaps, weary from the long and uncomfortable journey from Shiganshina all the way back up to Mitras.
Her bottom hurts from the lack of cushioned seat and the constant tumbling inside the compartment as the snow beds became thicker halfway through the journey. Apart from the uncomfortable ride, she is freezing from the sudden drop of temperature this morning, her hands stiff beneath her black woolen gloves.
"If you want to be useful, leave me alone to rest."
He opens his mouth to spout another smug comment, but she shuts the door in his equally smug face.
With a tired sigh, she locks the door and peels off her fur-trimmed trench coat. The white fur is stiff and frozen from the cold winds. She pads across the floor to draw the curtains against the bleak grey skies, and then lights a few scented candles to illuminate the dim room and to provide some semblance of warmth. She collapses on the bed, feeling the mattress creak and the sharp end of her knife poking from under her pillow.
Three days. It has been three days since Levi returned from his impossible mission. Since then, she has done nothing but to attend to the Captain and the Commander, going back and forth from the third and fourth floors, helping Erwin with his broken foot and later assisting Levi with his bandages. The cadets were helpful enough to provide food and hot water for their injured superiors. And Hange… Sieglinde sighs and closes her eyes. Hange was a menace for her extreme eagerness to see a Moonlight Titan for herself.
Her back aches from the journey, but she knows she cannot dawdle for too long. Swinging her legs off the bed, she removes the rest of her uniform and heads to the bathroom for a quick hot shower.
The Military Police would have their mission in the next two days. As the water spurts from the shower and bears down on her cool skin, the steam rising like a Titan's blood evaporating, Sieglinde knows cannot afford to waste more time.
Downstairs, she meets up with Claudia Prinzhorn and Alfred Lychen.
No signs of Lussier. Odd.
"Where's the little bastard?" she says the moment she joins them.
"Fetching the other Squad Leaders," Claudia answers with a soft laugh. "Everything okay, Sieg?"
"That bastard has been up in my ass the entire month I'm here," Sieglinde grouches, reminding herself of Levi. Perhaps spending the last few days with the Captain rubbed off his grumpiness on her. Despite herself, her heart swells to remember her previous days with Levi.
Her little smile dies down when Erik Lussier materializes from a corner, with two more Squad Leaders in tow. He has the gall to wink at her as he joins their ranks; shoulders back, feet wide apart. From the other end of the hallway, a door opens.
"Good morning, Commander!" the Ranking Officers greet in unison.
"Yes." Nile nods and opens the door to the meeting room and gestures for them inside. His subordinates take seats before his polished desk. "Now, let's all discuss how we would do this. I have a good feeling this would be a successful raid," he adds, gaze lingering at the combat instructor. Then he offers folders for each of them except Sieglinde. "Your mission assignments," he explains. "Lussier, Smith goes in your squad as agreed."
"As you wish, sir," Erik answers coolly.
Sieglinde presses her lips into a thin line. One raid, she reminds herself as Nile proceeds to a lengthy explanation. Just one raid and I would ask him to let me go back to the Scouts.
The Underground City is dark as night, with few lights in the streets and pinned to the columns. A shiver runs down Sieglinde's spine as she follows her squad of twenty-five Police Officers, half of the group comprised of the new and young recruits. She follows closely behind Erik's much more confident self, and fights the urge to hold onto his sleeve for comfort in this dark, dreary place. The fact that her weapons are insufficient bothers her more than the darkness.
She wears the vertical maneuvering equipment, but without the blades. Without blades! Never in her six years in the military has she even dreamed of wearing 3DMG without its signature blades. The Scouts and the Garrison are allowed to handle the blades due to their encounters with the Titans, but since the Military Police are in-charge with the people's welfare, instead of the blades, they have rifles.
How in the world the officers can manage both 3DMG and rifles at the same time, Sieglinde has no idea.
The metal box is light and empty, bouncing freely against her legs. She has never practiced the gears without the blades, and she is half-afraid the momentum of the gas would knock her off balance.
Focus, Sieg. You gotta impress Commander Nile so you can go back to the Scouts.
Easier said than done.
Erik leads his squad to the designated position. Being the first squad full of recruits, their assignment is one of the easiest ones−securing the exit points of the criminals, making sure no one gets away. If everything goes according to plan, then the Commander and his vanguard should be able to apprehend all criminals without having the recruits to rush up for the misses.
"Nervous?" Erik whispers aside her as they take their positions.
"Try petrified," Sieglinde mumbles, pressing herself flush against the cold stone wall.
"Afraid of some Underground runts?"
"I can handle runts just fine. I managed you for some weeks."
"So what's eating at you then?"
"Are you seriously trying to make small talk in the middle of a mission?"
"What?" He shrugs, complacent as ever. "It's not like we're starting in a few hours."
"Do whatever you wish." She stands from their hidden position and perches herself on a higher ground, where she has the vantage view of the surrounding streets. Torches illuminate most, but the other alleyways are bathed in the shadows. Her skin crawls to imagine herself cornered in those alleys.
Towards her right is a two-story building−their target. Allegedly a clinic for the poor, but according to Nile's reports, it is the main hub of drugs dealing and weapons transaction in this rotten city. It looks inconspicuous enough with its simple dirty white walls and simple wooden signage at the front. Mother and children are coming and going to see the doctor. Not what anyone would have thought for a drug center. However, underneath the building lies the truth. With the clinic at the edge of the sewers, it makes a perfect spot for in and out transactions in the darkness.
To think that Levi and his friends once lived here.
It makes her wonder how they managed to live in a dark place with little food and less water. The fruit stalls Sieglinde and the others passed by earlier had spoiled apples and oranges. The water in the tavern they checked smelled like tap water. Everyone's clothes are ragged and dirty, one way or another.
Thank the Walls her mother never put her up for adoption despite her attitude. Sieglinde realizes how lucky she really is to be with her family. Levi, on the other hand…
The Underground is behind him now, she reminds herself. He has a new family in the Scouts.
Her eyes catch a small group of men approaching the building. She beckons Erik toward her and the young man peeks over her shoulder. He nods back and goes off to warn the rest of their squad, leaving Sieglinde on scouting duty, a task she volunteered to since she is not so keen on fighting with an empty 3DMG weapons case. Her black rifle is slung across her back, a reminder but not a comfort.
At least she has her gauntlets. The soft leather is a soothing presence around her wrists.
"Once the Commander shoots the flare, it means we're in action," Erik says once he returns to her side.
"Green for success. Red for misses. Black for emergencies."
"Right." He cradles his rifles in his hands.
"Right." She adjusts the two separate metal wires looped around her thumbs and middle fingers.
"Ready?" He smirks.
"Sure. This will be fun," she deadpans.
"You know what?" There goes that shit-eating grin again. "If you weren't already lusting after Levi−"
Sieglinde flicks her thumb and a flat, needlepoint blade extends from above her wrist. "I will murder you, Erik Lussier, and I will make it look like an accident so that you are a casualty in the mission."
He laughs and pushes the blade away from him. "Yikes!"
Gunshots interrupt their bickering. They both become pale and turn for the clinic. The glass windows are shattering, people are shouting from the insides, and the gunshots continue ringing. The civilians are screaming as they are running away from the scene. The Second and Third Squads are kicking the doors down to help the Commander and his vanguard.
Sieglinde, narrowing her blue eyes, pats Erik on the shoulder and rounds their base, aiming to watch over the sewers. The clinic has one point of entry and exit, but no one knows if there is no escape route through the sewer tunnels. Her nose wrinkles at the stench like rotten eggs and feces. Mike is lucky not to be here.
Somewhere along the lines, a grenade detonates. She whirls towards the sound just as a red flare shoots up over the Underground and ricochets off the stone ceilings. Then she checks at the sewers again. It is dark, but little light glimmers over the black waters. The tide rushes stronger, faster.
"Let's go, let's go!" Erik shouts over to his squad members, rushing for the Commander's position. Then he turns back when he realizes he is one member short. Bronze eyes are brazen at her. "Sieg! Move! Now!"
"You go ahead!" She removes the dark green cloak to lighten her weight. "I have the sewers!"
"But, Sieg−"
"Fucking move, Lussier!"
Erik is surprised at the tone of her voice, but then nods and follows the rest of the group down the abandoned building that serves as their hideout. The continuous rattle of gunfire drown out his voice.
Sieglinde launches her hooks to the columns and propels herself down to the sewers. The moment her boots sink into the knee-high waters, a large throng of men emerge from the tunnels, their pistols aloft. Surprise is evident in the men's faces−as Sieglinde lifts her right leg to kick the nearest man in the face. He crashes against the tunnel's arch as his companions, about eight or more thugs, bear down on her.
The water weighs her down, slowing her immensely against their force. Two men tackle both her flanks and push her backwards. Another kicks the back of her knees. She stumbles from the pain and the pressing weights of two adult men, and collapses into the water. Her vision darkens as she plunges into the sewer, her fingers scrambling for purchase as the men try to drown her.
One hand plunges down to wrap around her neck, squeezing her windpipe. She gasps, the filthy waters tasting vile and disgusting on her tongue. In a moment of desperation and fear of dying−dying like her father, in a dark place, defenseless, powerless−she flicks the thumbs and middle fingers of both hands.
Four blades slice through the air. The hands on her shoulders and neck go slack and loosen. The black water turns a darker shade with fresh blood joining the waves. Sieglinde resurfaces with a violent cough, spitting out the water and glaring at the remaining thugs.
Three of them died in the struggle to drown her. Deep gashes through their chests and throats after her wild slashes. The bodies float like plastics bags over the tide.
Sieglinde coughs more and forces herself back to her feet. She is drenched from head to toe, her silver braid undone from the struggle and now locks are clinging like second skin to her arms and back. The four outstretched blades gleam under the Underground City's feeble light.
A thug aims his pistol at her, and fires. Sieglinde drops back on her knees, slashing her blades on the leather harnesses attached around her body. The empty 3DMG weapons case loosens and she takes one box and flings it to their faces. She throws at other box as a distraction, as she crosses the distance between her and the nearest thug, the one with the pistol, and grabs his hand.
She gives a savage twist in his hand joint, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. Her free hand surges upwards into a punch, except that her fist does not connect with his chest, but her blades. Two needlepoint blades dig through his lungs, long enough to protrude from the other side with bits of flesh still hanging from the tips.
The other men fetch their guns and fire freely at her. She throws the corpse at them and takes cover into the tunnel, using it as a shield. She coughs and spits more water, the disgusting taste still lingering in her tongue. Shadows creep towards her, about four more of them. She grits her teeth.
Just then, another officer comes in to rescue her. The figure soars through the air and kicks at the men. Sieglinde emerges from her hiding place. The thugs are ganging up on Cadet Gerhardt, that smug recruit with the panther-like grace. But his supple and lean body is nothing against muscular, pot-bellied men. They snatch the rifle from the boy's hands and kick him into the water. One man rams the rifle's butt to Gerhardt's temple, rendering him unconscious.
In a rare moment of fury, Sieglinde surges through the tides and grabs the nearest man by the skin of his neck. He turns around easily, thinking she is one of his friends, and she buries her blades deep into his belly. The three others swarm next to her, grabbing her by the hair and limbs and ravaging her like beasts ravaging a weaker animal. Their foul breaths are in her face and ear, two men holding her wrists and keep watch on the protruded blades.
Another man, seemingly a leader, brandishes a knife from his boot. He raises it, and Sieglinde's eyes follow where it arcs up, high in the air. He nods to his friends and they lift her chin up.
That angle. Her damned habit kicks in. It should slash right where my throat is.
It slices through the air. She closes her eyes, listening. When the air pressure hits her senses, she puts all her strength to pull the man to her left forward. The blade sticks out from his right lung. Blood bubbles from his mouth and drips on her shirt.
Sieglinde growls and snatches her right wrist from the still-stunned thug. She forces her unsteady feet to rush to the stunned man, wrapping her small hands around his flabby neck and squeezing.
The man fights back, his larger build against hers. Sieglinde tastes blood from biting her lower lip too hard. Her opponent kicks her on the stomach and slaps her across the cheek. She falls back to the water, drained of energy. She floats and bobs like a trash for a moment, her vision blurry.
The leader with the knife grabs her by the hair and lifts her up like a ragdoll. Sneering, Sieglinde spits the disgusting water at his ugly face. He chuckles, amused at her defiance, and presses the knife against her throat. Its bite is sharp and stinging.
I will not die here, her mind screams. I will not die like this. I will not die at the hands of a human!
Gunshot takes them all by surprise. The leader doubles over and splashes next to an unconscious Gerhardt. The remaining man panics and whirls around, patting himself for a gun, or a knife, or anything−and then realizes that the young woman is out of energy. He yanks at her hair and holds her against him. A hostage.
Erik Lussier stands on the other side of the sewer. His rifle's barrel still smokes from the previous round.
"Stay back! Or I'll kill her!"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Erik says in a warning tone.
"I mean it!" The thug's hands wrap around Sieglinde's neck. "I will choke the life out of her!"
"Go ahead." Sieglinde laughs harshly from her parched throat. "I'm worth nothing to the Military Police."
"It's true," Erik agrees, inching closer towards them, his rifle poised to shoot.
"St-Stay back! I fucking mean it!"
"Do it now while you have the chance." Sieglinde wheezes from his tight hold. She continues coughing and angles her head towards to her left, glancing at something behind the man. Then her blue eyes drift lower, to her left wrist with the blades still extended. She flicks her wrist left and right, left and right. The silver blade continues glinting despite the shadows.
Erik raises his rifle, more threateningly now. "Let her go or I will blow your brains out."
The man bares crooked yellow teeth at Erik. "Your threats are−"
A bullet flies through his skull, fired from behind them. His body jerks and falls forward.
Sieglinde sidesteps out of the way, panting and collapsing on the sewer's stone ledge. Erik slings his rifle to his back and rushes towards her. She puts up a hand, still wheezing. "Gerhardt−Gerhardt's unconscious over there! Get him, get him out quick, Erik!"
Erik searches through the floating bodies and collects his young squad member. He kneels beside the body and starts preforming chest compressions, until the boy coughs and starts breathing normally again. The Squad Leader sighs in relief and puts his green cloak over Gerhardt. Then his brown MP jacket goes around Sieglinde's shoulders as she shudders and coughs violently.
"You fucking daredevil," he scolds her, wolfish grin present. "Could've told me your plans."
"There was no time." Something gurgles in her stomach. She heaves over to the sewer, but the vomit doesn't come. Tears swell in her eyes and she blinks them back. "Someone… Someone had to do it…"
"This is either high bravery or the very makings of reckless stupidity."
She lets out a hoarse laugh. "I think you and Levi will get along well."
He shares her amusement, but shakes his head. "We can discuss that later. Can you stand? No, wait. Let me shoot a black flare. Emergencies, you know. I have two squad members down in one night. Geez. No−Sieg, rest for a while. The others are rounding up the criminals. I came back here to check if we have misses escaping through the sewers. Turns out you were one-step ahead of my thinking."
Her head lolls against his shoulder. Her eyes feel droopy. "Someone has to finish the job…"
"What happened to the last guy though? That wasn't my shot. It came from behind his head."
"It was from the six o'clock position." She lifts her head and points towards a column in the distance. "That's where the Fourth Squad is located. Claudia is there with them." She drops her head back to his shoulder again and hears her stomach gurgle. "Signalled for her to take the shot."
"How'd you know she'd get the message?"
"That's what training is about, idiot." Hell, she sounds like Levi now.
"And what made you think Claudia's a good shot?"
She shrugs, sighing in exhaustion. "I just had a hunch."
He peers down at her. "A hunch?"
She nods.
Erik chuckles. "Scouts really are daredevils."
That night, Sieglinde sleeps fitfully. She dreams that she is back in the Underground, alone but for the shadows. She kneels in the filthy sewer waters, the tide splashing over her skin and hair. On one hand, she has the 3DMG's blade while the other has the Military Police's rifle. Her fingers feel clumsy, trying to figure out the mechanism of both blade and gun. Then the shadows around lurk, like candle flame guttering in the wind. A massive shadow with fangs and red eyes towers over her.
Bogey-Beast, is her first thought.
She stands up with her weapons, ready to defend herself against the beast, but something gurgles in her stomach. She collapses back to her knees, heaves over the water, and vomits.
She wakes up with vomit splattered on her bedroom floor.
What the hell is happening to me? She sidesteps the mess and goes to the bathroom. Damp washcloth on hand, she kneels on the floor and wipes the sticky substance. Her stomach is still gurgling, and she is almost afraid to add another bile on the already disgusting floor.
During the ascent back to Stohess District, Commander Nile and the other higher-ups congratulated the four Squad Leaders and their members for an excellent performance. The Military Police apprehended about fifteen drug dealers and illegal weapons handlers, while thirteen criminals died during the struggle−six of which was Sieglinde's own work.
Maybe that is why her stomach is so uneasy. To kill another person when it is her duty as a soldier to preserve human life. She ventures outside the Walls to protect human lives, but here is she, with blood in her hands from six different people. Thugs, she wants to assure herself, but the damage has been done and it twists another unpleasant feeling in her guts.
She cleans her mouth and heads for the mess hall downstairs. Even in the wee hours of the morning, there is still food in the cupboards and on the stove. Drinks are always free for the higher-ranking officers. As an instructor, she shares the privileges.
The night is strangely calm. No signs of heavy snowfall. A gentle breeze blows outside the glass windows. Still rattled from her previous nightmare, she keeps close to the wall, tracing the edge of her fingertips against the cold, smooth surface. Moonlight bathes her in its silver light, until she reaches the door that leads to a short flight of steps to the mess hall.
Candlelight shines on one table.
"You're up late," Sieglinde greets with a small smile.
"So are you," Claudia returns, chuckling. "Can't sleep?"
"On the contrary, I just woke from one."
"Ah, I understand." The blonde pats the table. "Nightmares."
"And yourself?" Sieglinde sits from across her, knees tucked to her chest.
"Reports. Nightmares. Insomnia. All in those order." Claudia gestures to the pile of paperwork.
The younger quirks her head to the side. "But you have sketches though."
A light blush dusts Claudia's cheeks. "Sketching something calms my nerves."
"What do you need calming for?"
"Today's raid was a success," Claudia murmurs, scribbling on her previous paper. The candlelight dances her in soft brown eyes, despite the weariness. "I am glad nobody died, unlike the last time. Although you and Cadet Gerhardt were close to being causalities…" She puts the pen down and stares at her face. "I don't understand why you'd risk your life like that. You could've asked for assistance, surely?"
"I asked for yours," Sieglinde reasons out. "Remember? The signal−"
"If I hadn't noticed the signal, you would have died out there."
"Erik was there−"
"Sieg." Claudia's tone reminds her so much like Erwin and Levi combined. The older woman shoots her a glare−or what a glare should look like since her doe eyes are too soft for a proper glare−and then sighs and shakes her head. "We are here to serve the people. We can't do that if we are dead."
"Yes, of course," Sieglinde whispers, feeling like a scolded child.
"Have you finished your report for the Commander?" Claudia switches topics.
"Oh, yes, I will have Erik 'Holier Than Thou' Lussier check it first."
The older woman laughs good-naturedly. "You two really know how to piss each other off, don't you?"
Sieglinde shrugs. "We go way back in the Training Corps."
"I'm going to have some tea." Claudia stands and offers her sketchbook to her. "Have a look around while you're waiting." Then she steps over the bench and disappears in the backroom.
Curious, Sieglinde drags the candelabrum closer to her and opens the book. There are numerous drawings, proper sceneries of landscapes and skies, while others are simple and random scribbles. Faces of people. The MP unicorn insignia. A mother cat and her kittens. Towards the center of the book, there are more people in rough sketches, faces Sieglinde herself recognizes−Erik in his full uniform, Commander Nile doing the salute. And then, next page…
Hange Zoë in Training Corps uniform, her brown hair a longer mess over her back. Equipped with the 3DMG with the blades in both hands. Another sketch of Hange hunched over her desk, cradling a book in her left hand while her right has a pen, making notes of the details. It warms Sieglinde that the view from many years ago is not much different that it is now.
Claudia returns with a batch of black tea and a warm tray of cookies.
"Thanks for the food!" Sieglinde beams and pops the cookie in her mouth.
"Instructor Sieglinde Smith, downstairs, please."
It is unlike for her to receive a summons so early in the morning. She is still in the haze of her nightmare and the mess of vomit on her floor. Dressed warmly in her Military Police uniform and black gloves, she patters down the hallway with another officer while the rest of the headquarters is still stirring from their comfortable slumbers. The first light of dawn barely peaks through the overcast skies.
Instead of leading her to Commander Nile's office on the third floor, the officer leads her across the bridge, towards the dormitory at the back, and then to the backroom. Her skin tingles with the weight of her gauntlets hidden under her sleeves.
The door to the backroom opens, revealing a group of four men lounging on the sofas.
"Good morning, Smith." A lean older man with short-cropped black hair and nervous eyes. "My name is… Djel Sannes. It's nice to meet you…"
"Am I fired from the Military Police?" She hopes the answer is yes.
"No, that's not under the discretion of the First Interior Squad."
Her eyes widen. First Interior Squad? Her mother used to be a member until her father's death. There was a bit of rumor going around the Iron Hills when she was much younger, but Erwin had shut them all out. From then on, no breadth of rumor floated anywhere else and little Sieglinde never gave much thought of it until now. What does the First Interior Squad have to do with anything?
The man understands her confusion. "You did well in yesterday's raid," he says. "Secured an escape route, tried to apprehend eight men, killed six out of them. Such an achievement for your first raid. However−" His dark eyes sharpen at her−"a Scout getting all the citizen's approval is a no-no. Instead, we will be planning to switch your achievements to Ranking Officer Erik Lussier."
Sieglinde blinks. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that all your accomplishments for yesterday's mission will be listed in the reports as Erik's accomplishments," Djel explains, with no hint of guilt in his tone. "Erik would be the one who fought those thugs in the sewers, the one who killed them, and the one who rescued Cadet Gerhardt. The Military Police couldn't afford a mere Scout to gain all the credits to herself.
"It's fine." Sieglinde shrugs, ignoring their condescending tone towards the Scouts. "I don't mind Erik hogging the spotlight for himself. If I think about it, it is a keen bit of play from your side."
"I am glad we are in understanding, Smith."
"Am I allowed to leave the Military Police now? When can I return to the Survey Corps?"
"Like I said, that is not under our discretion. However, we can influence the Commander on your behalf."
"You have my thanks, sir."
"In return, you will not speak of your role in the mission," he specifies.
"Not a breath from me," she promises.
"Thank you for your understanding," he says again, the bastard. His nervous eyes are staring deeply into hers, as if he is afraid she might do something to him. Djel Sannes waves a hand. "You may go."
Well, that went quite differently than she had imagined. She was sure she would be in another trouble as she always is, one way or another, and that would be the end of her career. Sparing one last furtive glance at the four men plus the officer who escorted her, she steps out into the bleak morning light and rounds the back of the room. She doesn't trust these people enough to completely turn her back against them.
Suddenly, someone snatches her from the corner of the building. A rough hand covers her mouth as the perpetrator drags her out of the road and into his hiding place. Sieglinde digs her feet into the ground and twists in the man's strong grip, delivering a roundhouse kick to get a better view of his face.
An older man, with thin black hair and beard, grins back at her. He easily steps back from her kick, his chin missing her foot by an inch. Then he grabs the foot in the air and pushes it backwards, forcing Sieglinde against a wall. He grabs her wrists and pins them above her head, but she struggles against his iron-like grip and manages to free her foot from his grasp. Her other leg darts out from between them, angled and shooting upwards, but it misses his crotch.
Her tip of her boot slams against his chin. Sieglinde takes the momentary distraction to wriggle free from the man's grasp, but damn he is strong−even stronger than Levi. She inclines her foot to another angle, but the man grins again and presses his weight on her, so that her thigh is pressed against her chest, foot dangling over the man's shoulder, and she is trapped between the wall and the man.
"You're quick on your feet," he says, bemused.
"And you're heavy." She couldn't think a better comeback than that.
"Well, you are kinda small, so I'm blaming this on you."
She squints her eyes at him. Against the dawn's haze, she notices wrinkles around his sharp and narrow eyes, sideburns, and a sharp jawline. Like her, he wears the usual Military Police trench coat, although he wears a black fedora hat to complete his appearance.
And suddenly, she feels like a nine-year-old back in the Iron Hills again.
"It's-It's you!" She gushes with more enthusiasm than caution. "You were the one—!"
"Oh, so you remember." He chuckles, but his grip remains strong.
"Of course I do! Say, old man, what's your name?"
"I'm not that old." He sighs and releases her, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing in his tallest height. Such considerable height as well, around Erwin's height. The man has long dark hair falling to his shoulders, a hawkish look in his dark eyes, and a slim physique, although one should not let his appearance deceive them: his strength and reaction speed are noteworthy for a man his age.
Sieglinde feels smaller before his build. "You didn't answer my question."
He cocks his head to the side, still grinning. "I told you names aren't important."
"Then you wouldn't mind my calling you 'old man' for the rest of this encounter."
"Pssh. You give me no choice, brat." He looks down on his nose at her, proud. "Kenny Ackerman."
"And I'm−"
"Yeah, I know you," he cuts off. "You're the youngest of Irene's brats, right?"
"I might be," she snarls.
Kenny takes it in stride, unperturbed at the least. "Listen, I did not come all this way to play games with a little girl." He chuckles when the young woman raises a slender eyebrow at him. "You−You're a weapons specialist, right? Got some experience smithing and all that shit, right? Right."
She holds up a palm. "I haven't even said anything yet−"
He grins broadly. "Awesome! I have a feeling we will be best friends for today." He wraps an arm around her shoulders, but she tears away from his reach with another back kick towards the crotch. He jumps back a few steps, whistling. "Ah-ah-ah, please not the 'family jewels'. Geez, you really remind me of your mother."
"I feel like I should be concerned," she murmurs. Here is the man she has only met once, in her childhood, and now he is back at it again ten years later. She crosses her arms and glares up at him. It is too early for her to be handling old man shenanigans. "Why in the world should I do as you say?"
"Oh, that's right," he says wonderingly, as if it never crossed his mind. He taps his chin and stares at the bleak morning skies. "We need some sort of bargaining chip."
"Bargaining chip?"
"Yeah, like, I give you this and in return, you do this for me."
"Okay, that's a good start." But the fact that he attacked her first still remains.
Kenny hums for a while, racking his brains, while the young woman yawns and then sneezes at the cold temperature. She buries deeper under her coat and nuzzles against the white fur around the collar. Then the old man's thinking face brightens and he pounds his fist into his open palm.
"I got something!"
"Huzzah." Sieglinde sneezes again. "Ugh."
"How about this then?" He grins, already looking victorious. "How about I tell you who killed your father?"
Something snaps in her. She launches herself to him, but he easily catches her wrists and rams his knee on her stomach. She coughs and the bile rises to her throat, begging to be unleashed. Tears gather in her eyes as she slackens against Kenny until her legs could no longer support her weight. She slides to the ground and wheezes.
The bastard crouches next to her, peering at her face. "How about it?"
"I will… kill you…"
"Many people tried over the years. What makes you think you'll stand out?"
"I don't have to stand out. Lodging my knife in your neck will be fine."
"Ah, good old technique," he hums, jiggling his leg. "Well, feel free to try, but I need something from you."
"What do you want?!" she rasps.
"I want your experience in handling weapons," Kenny admits, looking elsewhere. "There is something I wanted to try, but my resources are limited, even if I am with the First Interior Squad. Lack of resources is probably the main thing, but also perspective."
"Perspective? You?"
"Tch. Look, kid. Do you wanna help me or not? Don't you want to know your father's killer?"
"And how would you know?" She forces herself back to her feet, dusting off her knees.
"The wonders of being in the Interior Squad." He also stands and starts leading her away from the headquarters through the hidden archway at the back of the dormitories. The streets are narrow, littered with empty crates and beer bottles. "When I first joined the MPs, I made it my utmost priority to find out who killed your father. Not because I knew him−I never even saw him−but because of your mother."
"But my mother quit the MPs when I was born. She couldn't have known you, then."
"No, we go before you were born." His sharp eyes are ahead, hard and cold. Almost like someone's gaze. It is strange how similar those two are. "Irene was in the Interior Squad while I was murdering my way around the capital city. Ever heard of Kenny the Ripper?"
"Ah!" Sieglinde gasps in awe. "You're the one who slit 100 MP throats!"
"The one and only!"
"It's amazing how you're actually a person! My brother told me you were an urban legend!"
"I faded into urban legend when I stopped," he says, shrugging. "Anyway, yeah, I knew Irene during that time. Blah, blah, blah. Long story short, I found out her husband's killer so I can blackmail her with it. Turns out I will be blackmailing her daughter instead." He glances down at her with a sly smirk.
"Oh, really?" She keeps following, until she realizes where he is leading her. "The Underground?"
"Yeah." He looks over his shoulder. "The workshop's in the Underground."
"Why there?"
"Why do you think?" He scoffs. "Illegal things are always welcomed there."
Sieglinde hesitates. Erwin did not teach her to talk to strangers and entertain former serial killers.
Kenny gleams at her, capitalizing on her hesitation. "What, you afraid to take some risks?"
She sneers and follows him to the long and winding staircase that leads to the city. To be honest, there are numerous staircases, though the MPs take advantage by setting up more expensive tolls on any visitors. Underground citizens are allowed above the ground, but without proper settlement and the impending doom of more police swarming after them, they retreat back to the darkness.
The tall man drops a purse of coins to the officer in-charge at the toll. He whispers a few words, perhaps a treat or something close, and moves on. His boots echo in the dimness. Sieglinde stalks close by his heels, like a lamb afraid to be lost in a den of wolves.
After the raid yesterday, the citizens seem more on the edge. They are glaring at the pair as they pass through several darkened streets and alleyways. The air smells of something damp and earthy. Kenny whistles a cheery tune as they take a higher road, ascending towards the eastern outskirts of the city. There is a hollow indent into the wall, supported by thin columns of rock. At a corner, the familiar glow of orange and the clanking of metal almost bring tears to her eyes.
Kenny ducks her head under the door. "Hey, Ulrick! I brought the brat!"
Sieglinde's eyes are practically sparkling at the sight of so many equipment scattered along the place. Levi would probably run away as fast as he could from this mess, but to her, this is heaven. The hand tools are all dumped in one wooden barrel, the coals are in an open crate, and the unfinished handles are laid out on the table. The forge is searing with intense heat, blinking red and orange embers. Anvils of several heights and shapes are collected by the forge's base.
Now, this is a workshop.
"Hey, Ulrick!"
"I heard you the first time, Kenny." A middle-aged man appears from an adjoining room. Where Kenny is lean, Ulrick is a huge and heavily muscled man with messy blond hair. The left side of his face is burned from ear to jaw. A horrifying contorted skin with a tinge of vivid red flesh.
"Do you own this workshop?" Sieglinde asks brightly.
"Not me," Ulrick says. "But I managed this over the years."
"What work do you do around here?"
"Mostly repairs. I hardly ever have patrons to commission proper weapons, except for this bastard." Ulrick juts his chin at Kenny, who sniggers and drops himself on a nearby chair. The blond inclines his head sideways, so that the young woman could see the full extent of his burned face. "Kenny's requests are difficult. I'm glad he brought someone over for brainstorming."
Sieglinde blinks at Kenny for an answer.
The dark-haired man removes his hat and puts his feet up on the table. "The latest weaponry technologies are beyond me. If you ask me, I'd tell you that knives and daggers are the best way to kill people. But I can see that the capital city favors more guns these days."
"So what would you have me do?" Sieglinde asks.
"Kenny wants something effective to use against humans," Ulrick answers for her.
"Like what?"
"Something the Interior Police can use effectively."
"You do realize that the Military Police as a whole uses ineffective weaponry, right?" she asks Kenny.
"Your latest field trip with the Commander must have enlightened you on that one," Kenny muses.
"Sure did." She frowns at her inability to use both rifle and 3DMG at the same time. "A vertical maneuvering equipment with the weapons case but without the blades inside is already a heavy burden. The main weapons used are rifles, but you cannot utilize said rifles when you're holding the gear's hand grips." She slumps on the seat next to Kenny and strokes her chin. "Why not substitute the blades with rifles?"
Kenny beams at her. "Bingo!" Then he grins up at his friend. "She's Irene's daughter, all right!"
Ulrick shakes his head, blond hair swaying. "Means nothing to me," he tells Kenny and snaps his fingers to the young woman. She shuffles next to him and his table. He tosses the cloth aside. "We already thought of substituting the blades, but the 3DMG's mechanism is still beyond my comprehension. I have never used them my entire life. Never seen them in action even. This is my first time holding one to be honest."
She is quick to understand. "So you will need me to tinker with the gear."
"That's right. Can you help me?" Ulrick asks, sounding like a patient mentor.
"I'd love to!"
She removes her winter coat and hangs it over a chair. She also removes her black gloves, catching Ulrick's little nod of understanding to her scarred hands and the little burn marks left there. A fellow blacksmith knows the unforgiving heat of flames. She gathers her long hair up into a long ponytail and starts dissecting the available 3DMG from its gas cylinder, boxes, and metal wirings.
Somewhere along the lines, Kenny retrieves one of his curved knives and starts polishing it with a whetstone. Ulrick is a diligent student just as Sieglinde is a diligent mentor. She is more than happy to pinpoint certain parts of the gear and their functions, laying them one after the other over the table. In return, Ulrick shows her a rough sketch of the substitute rifles−not exactly a rifle, but pistols with long and round bodies attached to the hand grips.
They sit by the fire and brainstorm on how to fuse the two different weapons altogether. Ulrick is a skilled artist compared to Sieglinde's nonexistent drawing skills, and he is able to scribble her ideas and fuse them with his own. Kenny stands up every once in a while to peer at their work, nods in approval, and pats Sieglinde on the head as he returns for his chair.
Ulrick shows her an unfinished barrel of the pistol. It is large and heavy, made from fine smooth steel. As long as someone's arm and as heavier than the usual rifle.
"Perhaps we should make the barrel lighter," she suggests.
"Change the type of steel then?" Ulrick wonders.
"The steel is fine, but making it thinner might do the trick. Our blades in the Scouts are ultra-thin."
"I'll have it noted."
A few hours later, Ulrick proceeds to adjust the barrel's weight. He hunches over the forge with a hammer and tongs in his hands, hammering away with loud clanking noises. Sieglinde joins Kenny at the table, somewhat drained from all the thinking in the last two or so hours. She sighs and rests her cheek over the wooden surface, peering at Kenny's concentrated face. His knife is so sharp it slices through the air at the slightest movement.
He glances at her beyond his blade. "So, you're originally from the Scouts?"
"Yes, that's right. I came over the MPs as a punishment."
"I heard the Scouts are a crazy lot."
"You wouldn't know crazy if it bit you in the ass."
"Trust me." He cackles. "I have a fair share of crazy in my life."
She hums and nods. It does feel like this man has led a crazier life than most.
"If you're from the Scouts, then you probably know Levi."
She sits a bit straighter and narrows her eyes at him. "Yes, I know Levi. We're… We're in the same squad."
"Are the rumors true though? Is he a Squad Captain?"
"Yes." Pride swells in her chest. "He is a Squad Captain."
"Huh. Interesting." The blade glints as it catches the forge's orange glow. Kenny purses his lips as he presses the pad of his thumb against the sharpened surface. It instantly draws blood, but doesn't flinch from the blood or the pain. "So, the midget manages to snag a high position in the Scouts and snag a pretty girl all in the course of a few months? I'm impressed."
The way he talks about Levi rouses a suspicion in her. The way those sharp eyes of him flicker with something that a serial killer would not normally have. Is it fondness? Close. Sieglinde leans forward the table so that the man knows she is serious.
"You seem to know a lot about Levi. Are you his father?"
"What makes you say that?" He grins again, as if delighted.
"Both of you have the same black hair and blue-grey eyes." She ticks off all the physical resemblances she noticed ever since this morning. "Same jawline and same coarse language."
That last one makes him burst out in laughter. He thumps the table and doubles over.
Sieglinde's eyebrow twitches. "Unfortunately, he is not much of a laugher."
"Ahh, that was a good one. I haven't laughed like that in weeks."
"So, are you his father?" A part of her wants to know. The other half… doesn't really want to know. Levi made it clear that his days in the Underground are over. He has nothing else to do with this place. Everything he was in here is already behind him. And she should not pry, not like this.
Kenny settles back on his seat with a last bout of laughter. "Oh, not me. I wouldn't be a father to anyone."
She tips her head to the side. "A brother, then?"
"Too old to be his brother, don't cha think?"
"Ah. You're his grandfather, then." She smirks.
"Hey! I'm not that old!"
"My apologies." She snickers. She must have hit a spot there somewhere. "Then, a cousin or an uncle."
"That little runt is my younger sister's child," Kenny confides, his voice strangely soft.
"You were his guardian," she says with a sudden realization.
He puts his blade down and stares up ahead, at nothingness. Memories of years long gone make him thoughtful. "I brought him up as well as I can manage, taught him everything he needed to know to survive down here. And after that, I disappeared. Did he tell you that? I disappeared without saying goodbye."
She feels as though she wants Levi to be here, to hear this story unfold. "But why did you leave him?"
"I couldn't be a parent," he reiterates. "But I'm glad that runt found some purpose in life, rather than continue living his life down here, squabbling over stale bread and piss-sodden streets with other gangs." He notices how the young woman bristles at his words, and laughs. "You're offended? That's nice coming from a girl like you. What are you to Levi? His mistress?"
"I am the Vice Captain of the Special Operations Squad," Sieglinde declares. "His second-in-command."
"You purposely left out the girlfriend part."
She flushes. "I'm not—"
Kenny throws his head back and laughs again. "Oh, fucking hell, Irene's going to be pissed."
"Why so?"
"Between you and me, runt, your mother doesn't like Kenny Ackerman."
"I can see why."
"I hope you do." His lips widen into a cheeky grin. "Listen, can you do me another favor?"
"Sorry, I can only do one favor in one day."
"Tell Levi that his surname is Ackerman. Kuchel probably mentioned it once but warned him never to use it in public. Tell him that he can use it now−and that name is something he should be proud of. But one more thing−he doesn't need to know you heard it from me and he doesn't need to know our relationship."
"Why not?" Whatever the Ackerman family is, their family dynamics are weird.
"He doesn't need to know. All he needs to know is that he is an Ackerman. Whatever he does with that information is for him to decide." Kenny wrinkles his nose, and at that moment, he really does look like an older version of Levi. "You know when they say that some kids need some sort of self-concept growing up, and Levi never had that chance. He was a scrawny wet rat when I found him. A kid on the verge of death. Now that he made a better identity for himself, he could use a family name."
Sieglinde smiles tenderly. "I promise to tell him."
Kenny had closed his eyes, and now peeks at her with one eye open. "Good girl."
Another few hours later, they say goodbye to Ulrick and his heaven-sent workshop. There is no guarantee they would meet each other again, but Sieglinde promises to drop by when she can and bids Ulrick good luck on his endeavor. Then she and Kenny walk down the steep outskirts, pass through the many dark streets, and back up again on the staircase.
When they step above ground once more, the skies have already turned a crimson hue.
"You did well today, kid," Kenny says as they walk back to headquarters. "I'm sure Ulrick can come up with something after your 3DMG mumbo-jumbo a while ago."
"As someone from the Interior Squad, maybe you can request better materials from the Industrial City."
"Huh. Guess I'll try that."
"So, your part of the bargain?" she prompts, tucking her freezing hands under her arms. The winds are blowing coldly against her face, making her cheeks and nose red. "You promised you'd tell me who killed my father. Assuming that you do know, after a group of thieves came upon him during the night."
"Whoever told you that story is a big fat liar," Kenny spits with contempt. "I don't know what you were told as a child, whatever Irene told you to pass the scandal, but your father was never set upon by thieves. He was never killed in some dark alleyway in some faraway town."
Sieglinde stops walking, staring at the man's back. He is lying. He must be lying.
Her father died a long time ago because he could not defend himself against multiple armed attackers. He died because he was careless and defenseless. A middle-aged man, overwhelmed by many men. Kenny must have the story all wrong. Oh, but the way he wrinkles his nose and the way his lips curl into a disgusted sneer shouts more than her reluctance.
What is going on?
"Your father died," Kenny explains patiently, "because he was spouting some nonsense that the government did not want him to say. Something about a wrong history and false government. He spread some stories. He read banned books. Hell, he was a real daredevil−your old man. The Interior Squad killed him to silence him. Not without torturing him first, of course."
"That's not true," she hears herself say in a weak voice. "He… He died. People killed him…"
"Yeah, the government killed him." He shrugs. "Made him spout some lies and then offed him somewhere."
"And the killer?" That is the most important question. "Who was it?"
"What are you saying?" Kenny Ackerman grins. "You already met him this morning, remember?"
Author's Notes: Merry, Merry Christmas, everyone! I'm very sorry for not updating soon enough; all this Covid going on has done its toll on my mental health. Honestly, I don't want to call myself "depressed", because I haven't seen a doctor to medically confirm if I am, but every day that's how I feel. And it's hard to do even the simple stuff during the day. The only coping mechanism I've done for it is sleep and play video games, at least to keep my mind from overthinking things.
So if you feel what you feel, think what you think, please know that this is temporary and everything would be all right.
I would like to thank everyone who has been with me throughout all this time. I will try to do my best to write as much as possible to bring you the climax and conclusion of this adventure.
Once again, Merry Christmas to all of you! I love you all! 💖🎄
