Armin… Is this how you will spend your final moments?

The younger soldier had made his choice, anchored to the Colossal Titan and unrelenting against its boiling steam that assaulted him without mercy, and it baffled Bertholdt that he would just throw himself against his steam without a coherent goal in mind. Eren's titan lay broken on the ground, the remaining survivors locked in battle with Reiner, but he still expected someone would be there to make his diversion work?

It was not only sad, but naive.

Shiganshina had been laid to waste. A horrific carnage, were it not for the instantaneous death the Colossal Titan's blastwave caused. Hundreds died in one go, extinguished before they could grasp they were going to die. Had he been more skilled, maybe the remaining members of the 104th he'd called valued comrades just a little earlier would be spared in the blast and he wouldn't need to go for the more painful method of killing them. Even if he crushed them beneath his limbs, that was still far worse than evaporating within the blink of an eye.

How unbearably, unreasonably cruel a world they lived in.

But it was better this way. It was better they wouldn't have to mourn their fallen and it was better that only the Founder would go with them when all of this was over. None of them wanted to die, but Bertholdt had decided he would end their lives, so that's what was going to happen, no going around it. When he first noticed there were survivors, he'd expected they would utilise the only weapon they really had against him: attrition. Even with their horses dead and the soldiers on the other side of the wall boxed in, they could still choose to sacrifice the many to secure the only defence Paradis still had against Marley. Without Eren, they were done for. So many lives could've and should've gone to saving the Founder instead. So why not hide and wait until Bertholdt ran out of energy to sustain his titan form? Bertholdt knew for sure that Armin would've figured out that was his biggest weakness. What did Armin hope to achieve here by fighting him head-on?

Did he want to die?

Ah. That made sense. Was there anything more understandable than wanting to end it all in response to so much suffering? Bertholdt had seen it all around him as soon as a week after they first infiltrated the island and found the remains of someone who had given up already, and the knowledge that there was a way out that was inaccessible to him haunted him even to this day. Because he had a duty not only to his country and to the world, but also to the only two people he still had around him. The human mind wasn't built to carry so much pain. The boy was allowed to die — the world wouldn't end if he did, and after all of the remaining 104th joined him, there would be no one left who'd have to go through the process of mourning him. Tragic but painless. With the heavy casualties the Survey Corps suffered just minutes ago and their impending loss of the Coordinate and his best friend, Bertholdt could empathise with Armin's wish to die before he could end up all alone.

Bertholdt closed his eyes, because while he was prepared to grant him that wish, he still respected the soldier tremendously and he knew he was extinguishing one of the world's brightest lights in the dark. But there was no way around it, he'd made his choice. It would be a painful and cruel death, exactly what he promised himself he wanted to prevent, but if Armin had thrown himself into his steam voluntarily, then he must've been okay with burning alive. Not many people chose their death. Not the moment, nor the method or the circumstances. His last comfort could very well be that he chose for this, no matter how gruesome a way of dying he had to face.

He'd put him out of his misery.

For a very brief moment, he boiled even hotter to make it fast, the skin of his titan blazing so intensely that he felt it through the isolated nape that protected him. It wouldn't kill him to experience something close to what his victim would die from, but the added heat stress made him aware of how the extended battle was starting to exhaust his body. He'd need to end this soon. Find the others and extinguish them before he wore himself out.

His eyes cracked open again, wanting to give Armin the consideration of being seen in his final moments. But when he looked down at the blond anchored to the Colossal Titan, he was surprised to see not defeat, but confidence written all over his face. Determined confidence, almost anger, barely visible as he shielded his face with his arms.

Was that the face of someone who'd given up and surrendered himself to fate?

Was giving up and dying the way Armin did things?

Someone else, maybe, but Armin? The bright soul who always had some trick up his sleeve even when it looked like he was surrounded from all sides, the strategist whom Bertholdt had learned not to underestimate? For him to charge in mindlessly without any support as a selfish last resort instead of saving his mind for when anyone came to back him up? It suddenly didn't make sense anymore. He could come up with better plans than this. Usually, plans that directly used his opponents to his advantage. That's how he'd known the soldier since the day they'd met, so why change that so suddenly? Even his improvised plan to talk to Bertholdt earlier had more structure than this. Was he truly that miserable?

A vibrant memory shot through his mind, one where he was taunted into violent action that ended up costing them the Founder. No, not mindlessly taunted, manipulated. The blond was good at it, and he used it to his advantage to get Bertholdt to lash out and lower his guard so that the Commander had an opening to slash the bindings that fastened Eren to his back and buy Paradis more time.

Didn't that feel uncomfortably familiar?

Conventionally, adrenaline facilitated the exudation of steam, but the shock that ran through his spine at the realisation made him stop the blast altogether. No longer trapped in the current of scalding air, Armin's limp body fell down until it hung in the air, unconscious but his anchors still attached to the Colossal Titan's skull, preventing him from falling to his death. It would be so easy to crush him under bony fingers, but an unconscious target was nowhere near his top priority right now. Bertholdt couldn't afford to pay attention to someone who was already too badly burnt to survive his wounds. Not when danger lurked around the corner.

He sharpened his senses, vigilant to any movement or sound that meant someone was approaching him. Steam still dispersed around him, and he could barely see anything. He shot short bursts of steam as a preventive measure in case someone approached from the ground to take out the Colossal Titan's ankles. He regretted being too slow to crush Armin earlier. Had he been faster, he wouldn't have had to put himself at a disadvantage from being blinded by the smokescreen, forcing him to be this careful. It was unlikely he'd ever fight a battle like this again, but it was something to take note of for the future regardless.

Right now, he had to put his everything into ensuring that there would be a future for him.

Listening attentively, he heard how both sides of the wall were turbulent. He'd heard a lot of screaming from the outside of the Wall as he was near it, before everything went silent signalling Zeke's victory. Behind him, he'd heard several explosions, and he couldn't help but feel worried about Reiner's safety, but he had himself to worry about first so he ignored them. Zeke might show up to offer support any moment now, and it was direly needed to weed out anyone who might try to flank the Colossal Titan. And if Zeke had won, that meant Bertholdt could focus elsewhere. So long as he kept up these short bursts of steam, no one could realistically get close to him.

The Colossal Titan's head turned to help Bertholdt survey the battle behind him, but he was interrupted by a low rumbling noise, and he prepared for another burst of steam to kill his ambusher.

"Bertholdt! We're leaving."

Zeke's human voice? He looked back at the wall and saw Pieck's titan climbing onto the top of the wall. Zeke sat on her supply backpack, covered in blood with his limbs severed unevenly, his eye socket horribly mangled and steaming intensely as it healed. Did the scouts on the other side of the wall find a way to slip past the line of titans and get him?

With their warchief down, the tide suddenly turned and the battle looked lost. But they didn't need to eradicate every single scout that was left, they just needed to obtain Eren.

Bertholdt emerged from the nape of his titan, coughing as he breathed in the smouldering air still wafting off of its skin. He didn't pull himself loose from the tendrils connecting to his head and limbs yet, so when Pieck jumped onto the Colossal's shoulder and opened her mouth to bite him out, he yelled at her to stop. She listened, but Zeke looked impatient. Before he could bark at him, Bertholdt explained himself.

"Warchief! The Coordinate is down below in front of the gate, unconscious in his titan. We can still grab him and win!"

"Then stop wasting time," Zeke snarled at him. "I won't hesitate to leave you behind if you hold us back." He'd rarely seen their warchief this panicked.

Bertholdt hesitated. If he disconnected from the Colossal Titan, it would disintegrate and with the explosion and his constant flow of steam earlier, he wasn't sure he'd have the energy to form another one. With Reiner's status unknown, if Bertholdt was the last titan standing, he couldn't just give up their only remaining weapon and risk becoming defenceless. Pieck had to carry four people, she couldn't be expected to be able to carry everyone and fend off the scouts at the same time, even with Bertholdt there to defend her.

Worst case, she'd have to cling onto the Colossal Titan until it reached the wall again and expose everyone to sporadic bursts of steam to fend off attackers. They'd all burn, but with all of them being shifters, it wouldn't be permanent, only incredibly painful in the moment.

Just then, a loud series of explosions boomed in the city. The three looked down, and to Bertholdt's horror, down below and barely visible through the steam that still hung around him in a thick curtain, were the evaporating remains of the Armoured Titan. His blood ran cold.

"What is happening down there?" Zeke asked.

Bertholdt jerked his head towards Zeke again, worry now visibly written over his face. "Warchief, they have defeated Reiner!"

"Dammit!" Zeke shouted. "Bertholdt, go retrieve the Coordinate, we'll come get you down below. You either leave your titan or you die here and cost us the mission. Don't be stubborn, you're dead if you stay here," he commanded, and before Bertholdt could give an answer, Pieck's titan jumped off of the Colossal's shoulder and into the city to go straight for Reiner.

There was no going around it anymore. He had to leave his titan if he wanted a mission success. After seeing Reiner's titan defeated for a second time, an urgency overtook Bertholdt that caused him to pull loose from his titan's tendrils and leave its nape without thinking. Immediately, the Colossal Titan sank through its knees and Bertholdt anchored himself to its shoulders on one side, ready to jump off once he was low enough to make his way down to the immobile Attack Titan.

The Colossal Titan came to a halt as it lay slumped over, now evaporating, and before its heat could burn through the soles of Bertholdt's shoes, he hopped off, ready to anchor himself to a lower point of the wall to stop near his target and cut Eren out of his titan. He let gravity do its work until the last possible moment, because every second he gained was an increase in their chances of victory.

He fell past Armin's 3DMG lines, still attached to the Colossal's skull, and he couldn't help but hope that the boy succumbed to his wounds swiftly rather than slowly. In the end, it didn't matter. He was dead no matter how it went down, but if he could avoid the pain of such a slow death after his plan had failed, Bertholdt preferred that.

Glancing as he fell past where Armin's body connected to his wires, he saw that there was… Nothing.

An anchor shot into the wall and Bertholdt came to a halt against it, painfully so as he didn't ease into his fall and he stopped abruptly. He turned his head up looking for Armin, but the boy was gone, the only thing still attached to his anchor lines were the small pieces of leather they had been connected to, clearly cut loose in a hurry. If someone had cut him loose, then…

Bertholdt looked down, disconnecting his anchor again to make his way to the ground, but before he made it, the issue was already visible through the clouds of steam. Eren's titan form, partially crystallised, the rest of it evaporating beneath him, and no sign of the Coordinate's human form anywhere in sight. He landed in front of it hard, almost sinking through his knees, and took a moment to survey the situation. He must've left his titan and cut Armin loose when Bertholdt was talking to Zeke, too distracted concocting a plan to notice what was happening below. Was that Armin's plan? To die distracting Bertholdt and make him think Eren was knocked out cold until he could sneak up on him? Did he really think it would be that easy?

If Eren was gone already, there was no way that Bertholdt could find him again in this maze of a city, but did he really have a choice? Everything rode on him right now. He could make his way towards Pieck and hitch a ride home, but without the Coordinate, him and Reiner were both dead and the world possibly doomed. After such carnage, there was no way that Eren wouldn't unleash the rumbling upon them the moment he learned how. He'd want bloody revenge on Marley.

Bertholdt couldn't afford not to go looking for Eren, no matter where he might be hidden or how deadly the choice was.

He shot his anchors into the buildings to his right, almost instinctively. Would he really hide? Eren was an impulsive hothead, but if the life of his friend depended on him, he might just be able to think straight and do what he needed to save him. In this case, that was to take him to a body of water to cool down his steaming body and bring him back from the brink of death. The river was where he might find the two. It was all so pointless, Armin had been burned too badly to save him, but Bertholdt could empathise that Eren wanted to hold onto the hope that he could still be resuscitated. Hadn't Bertholdt just given up a surefire victory to rescue Reiner despite seeing half of his skull had been blown off and he could very well be dead already? Anything for his comrades. Bertholdt could respect that he still valued love despite living in this cold world that had mercy on no one.

Zipping towards the river, it didn't take him long to spot Eren. Even from a distance, he saw his form crouching by the water. The wall between the street and the river had been shattered in several areas, no doubt the result of either Bertholdt's first or his second assault on the city, and Eren had slipped through one of the openings to submerge Armin's body in the water from the abdomen down, splashing water onto the higher regions of his body to cool him down.

He wasn't even hiding.

It would be easy to grab him, but Bertholdt knew that Eren wouldn't just leave Armin behind without putting up one hell of a fight. The last thing Bertholdt wanted to do was waste his energy fighting Eren, but after having carried out several transformations already, he had to be just as tired as Bertholdt was. So long as no one else entered the fight, it would be over before it even started.

He just had to be quick about it. Dismember him before he could react, after which there was nothing he could do. It was underhanded and unfair, but no one in the world would care if dirty tactics were used to incapacitate the Founder if it meant securing victory.

Blades drawn, Bertholdt landed by the last building before the stretch of road that separated the houses from the river. He dashed forward, light on his feet, hoping to catch Eren off-guard, but his lines had been too noisy for him not to notice. Before Bertholdt could get into combat range, Eren used his free hand to draw a blade and twisted his torso, weapon drawn defensively in front of him. His face had been initially tear-streaked and frightened, but once he noticed it was Bertholdt who approached him, hot anger burned across his visage, eyes ablaze with a desire for vengeance Bertholdt had seen once before, high up in treetops. He dragged Armin's body out of the water, holding him close, as if Bertholdt would lunge at him and kill him if he didn't. The boy was still breathing, to Bertholdt's surprise, but judging by the severe boils along his arms and the blood that stained his clothes, that wouldn't last for much longer.

But Eren didn't necessarily know that. Maybe that could be his bargaining chip.

"You piece of shit, I will gut you in the most excruciating way possible!" Eren spat out at the top of his lungs, not a drop of self-control contained within his words as he tightened his grip on Armin's shoulder. This was an opponent whose anger would allow him to make many mistakes. A good advantage to have.

"Eren. Come with me and your friends will survive. We only need you," Bertholdt bargained, keeping his voice as neutral and reasonable as he could through his elevated breathing. He looked down at the blond in his grip. "The rest will find Armin and take care of him. They're still alive. He'll live. But I'll need to kill him if you don't cooperate." He knew for a fact that Eren wouldn't agree to give up and die. The very least he could do was try, futile as it was.

His expression grew even more enraged before he shifted to a cold smirk, eyes wide. "How about I kill you and we both survive instead? That's more likely, you lying bastard, you said you wanted us all dead!"

There was no time for this. Cold ruthlessness was all that was left after negotiation failed. The way Armin was pressed so close to Eren, the shifter couldn't fight back against Bertholdt without tossing him into the water and risking letting his friend drown, so the only way to dismember Eren would be to cut through Armin as well. Bertholdt hoped that the boy was as unconscious as he seemed and wouldn't have to feel what he was about to do as he drew back a blade and prepared to charge in.

Right then, Eren moved his blade towards his own body. In one swift motion, he placed it against his throat, his glare now icy compared to that passion that burned within his eyes seconds ago.

"You need me alive." He said in a low voice, pressing down on the blade a little until he drew blood to prove his point. "It'll all be for nothing if you don't get me alive."

Bertholdt froze in his motion entirely. Would Eren really kill himself to prevent the enemy from obtaining him? He would shoot Paradis in the leg by doing so, and the shifter was widely known for his fiery spirit that couldn't be tamed by anyone or anything. By his will to fight, no matter what. By bloody vengeance upon his enemies. By the sheer power of his indelible resolve.

This was a bluff. He would never take his own life to save his people.

But then, Bertholdt thought about what had happened earlier. How prepared Armin had been to jump into his sights to distract him, fully aware that he would die regardless of if he were successful in his efforts. He couldn't predict Armin's suicide plan was for real either. He'd underestimated his opponent's willingness to throw away their own survival to save others once, he couldn't risk it again. They needed Eren alive.

Bertholdt was running out of time, and his hesitation wasn't helping. Where were Zeke and Pieck? Did they get intercepted trying to save Reiner? Bertholdt hadn't heard any explosions, but the scouts could take Pieck if they had enough gas. Without her, there was no escaping the scouts and getting back to the harbour. He had to believe she was still out there.

The mission was falling apart fast and Bertholdt would have to choose. Unfortunately for his opponents, he'd just learned how to make important choices instead of leaving them to others. He'd be faster than Eren and he'd dismember his sword arm before he could slice his throat. Just as his leg muscles tightened to put his everything into charging forward and he lunged at Eren, a blast sounded behind him, and Bertholdt just managed to direct his movement sideways far enough to feel the anchor of a 3DMG line zip past his face, slicing deep into the thinly covered skinless etchings of his cheek.

His time was up.

Without a second thought, he followed his motion and dashed alongside the river wall until he was in range of a building, anchoring himself to it and shooting away as he looked behind him one last time. Body covered in steaming blood and much resembling the old illustrations of island devils Marley put out as propaganda, the Captain sprinted towards Eren's location. Eren had finally put Armin aside and looked ready to chase after Bertholdt, hand ready in his mouth, but the Captain stopped him. Bertholdt direly hoped that neither of them would chase him down, but if he hadn't heard the zipping of 3DMG lines when he was approached, that must've meant that he'd run out of gas and he was taking Eren's supply. Bertholdt was good, but not better than humanity's strongest, and he would definitely die if the veteran caught up to him.

Pieck. He needed Pieck. He needed to find the Cart Titan and anchor himself to it so that they could escape together. She was the only one that could save them all right now.

With one final push from his gear, Bertholdt reached the top of a building, and far away in the city, he could see the Cart Titan making its way towards him. Reiner hung out of its mouth, damaged but safe. So he'd made it, they all had. They were coming to his aid, and Bertholdt could almost laugh in relief at the sight. He was out of breath and he had just enough gas left to cross the city, but he'd make it. Even if he could accept his loss, in front of him was the only thing that could still get the Colossal Titan back to Marley. To die here would be a detriment to his country. He had to put his everything into reaching her before the scouts could.

So he ran. Under already heavy breathing and strenuous fatigue running through his body, he pushed himself to the limit to reach her. Jumping off the end of the roof, he switched to 3DMG to soar between the buildings, and the gap was closing. Just a few more hundred meters and he'd make it.

Then, Pieck stopped dead in her tracks and Bertholdt's heart skipped a beat. She stood there for a second before turning around and galloping off towards the outside wall over the rooftops. She was faster than him, at this rate he wouldn't make it towards her. And when he heard the zipping of lines behind him, he understood exactly why she'd turned heel. Levi was right behind him.

Bertholdt became careless with his gas usage, anything to get himself to burst forward faster, but with humanity's strongest on his heels and Pieck leaving, he couldn't see any way in which he'd be faster than him. Not to mention that if he didn't have enough gas left to scale the wall, none of this made a difference. He'd be stuck down in the city and there was no way he could ever win against an opponent this skilled. He was running on those bursts of adrenaline flaring up his every muscle into action, because he had to make it somehow.

Pieck reached the wall and started climbing. Half the city's distance left between them, and in one quick backwards glance, Bertholdt noted he had a few seconds on Levi. Enough to make it if he applied himself fully to getting there. When Pieck finally climbed to the top, she took a moment to look backwards, but all his hope was shattered when she turned around and leapt off the wall.

Nothing short of cold and harsh. For a moment, it was like his heart stopped in his chest and the world slowed down around him as the image of Pieck leaving him was permanently burned into his memories. He'd be lying if he said that didn't kill him on the inside.

He kept going, still making his way towards the wall, but as he swung through the air in what more and more became a panicked rush, what was the point now that he'd been left to his devices by the ones who were supposed to back him up but left him to be maimed or captured by the enemy instead? What'd happen when he made it to the wall? How would he continue afterwards, with his legs almost drained of blood from 3DMG usage and no energy left to run?

He hated the thought, but there was something inside him that told him to just let go and let himself be slashed to pieces. Wouldn't it be much easier to give up right now? He'd already decided he was ready to accept any outcome, and after seeing his comrades abandon him at the top of that wall, he wasn't so sure if he still had the drive to try to reach them again. It wasn't personal, of course. He'd have done the same if it was the only way. Gambling three to save the life of one was insane. But it felt so bitter.

And he almost gave up. Almost. Were it not for the thought that he didn't know what was happening on the other side of that wall. No one else had scaled it together with Pieck, and for all he knew, the brilliant strategist had devised one last plan to await him on the other side and let him leap down onto her back to escape together. If he gave up now, everything up until now was for nothing. There was no knowing if there was another plan. He had to hope that there was. He had to.

So he accepted it. His fate was in the hands of Pieck and Zeke now. All he had to do was make sure he made it to the top of that wall.

He reached the wall and, without looking back to see how much distance there was between the two of them, started scaling it, relieved that he still had enough gas left to go up, but he could run out any second now. He needed a backup plan. Because if no one was there for him on the other side, he had a crisis on his hands. It would've all been for nothing. Pointless, just like the world was, but that didn't mean he wasn't anxious to know if he'd live or die. Then, in a moment of clarity, he saw his options before him crystal clear, and he didn't need any more confirmation to know that this would be his terminal plan of action.

With one last burst of gas, he reached the top of the wall. There was no hesitation. Immediately, he sprinted across the surface, and behind him, he heard a furious "No!" from his pursuer, dangerously close. In his complete exhaustion, Bertholdt wouldn't get much farther than the other side of the wall before his legs gave out entirely, but he didn't need to. No time to think. Even half a second of hesitation and he was caught up with. But his plan didn't require him to think, just to do.

He crossed the length of the wall, swerving to dodge any anchors that may be launched at him, and with the handles of his 3DMG held tightly in his shivering hands, he took one final deep breath as he ran. At full speed, he closed his eyes and with every last bit of his strength pushed into the tip of his foot against the edge, threw himself over the other side of the wall - a blind leap of faith into his ultimate fate. Diving head-first, he felt every fibre of his body, every vein pulse inside him as the wind rushed over his clothes and through his hair, strangely at peace to know his fate would be decided as he soared through the air surrendered to completely helpless freefall, and when he finally opened his eyes, time stood still for a moment.

Beneath him a small impact crater and far away in the distance, the figure of the Cart Titan dashing away at full speed.

Leaving him behind.

It raked his insides, constricting his lungs and punching out all air. Not what he'd hoped for, nor what he bet his luck on, and it struck him over the head how he needed to enable his backup plan now or he was done for, no time to think of how badly that image in front of him stung. Time instantly resumed and he knew he had less than a second to react, so he threw both his 3DMG handles behind him, because for neither of his options would they be of any more use to him.

He jammed his hand between his teeth, biting down harder than he ever had in his life, a silent prayer firing through his mind that it would work. He would either transform and signal the others that he was still alive, still not beaten, still had some juice left inside him to keep fighting and make pursuit of his comrades, or he would fail and within no more than a couple of seconds, take all of Marley's secrets as well as control over the Colossal Titan to his grave. No matter how he looked at this, he won, and he felt a solemn sense of pride that he came up with such a win-win plan when he scaled the wall. He would never surrender and they wouldn't get him alive to tear all the answers out of him, nor would he let any of them deal the decisive blow. He'd made sure of that in his final offensive blow against the island. Finally, after a life of being swept along in the currents of fate, he was in full control of his destiny.

Either he'd just drawn his last breath, or he was going home. He chose so.

It was hard to tell with the tension of adrenaline reaching into every corner of his body, but with his goal irrevocably set on exploding and blowing away the area, a crackle emerged from his hand, reaching all the way into his heart and running through his spine towards his extremities, tingling inside the tips of his fingers and toes. Electricity exploded all around him and he felt the familiar wave of pre-transformation heat envelop his body entirely in the flash second before he incarnated the form of the Colossal Titan, and it made him feel beyond ecstatic both inside and outside as his skin jolted under his impending transformation. He won. He'd live, he'd make it home, he'd get to see—

Pain stabbed through his chest, piercing him so deeply that the shockwave reverberated through his whole body and shattered his ribs and collarbones. All that electricity decayed into deep nausea, and a crushing pressure spread through his torso as a bloodied metal spike shot straight out of his neck accompanied by the taste of iron, and for once, Bertholdt wasn't sure if his heart was still beating in his chest upon feeling the entry point of the anchor was in the middle of his back and it could've very well pierced straight through.

He needed his blades. Now. No matter what shape he was in, he needed to fight back, but when he felt a sickeningly sudden jerk as the ground abruptly stopped nearing and his 3DMG handles rushed straight past him, he realised he'd lost all momentum caught onto the anchor. Only for a moment, because as soon as he stopped, the anchor ripped out of his throat again, its barbs wreaking havoc on his insides on its way out, and by the time he realised that he was falling again, all he could feel was the absence of huge chunks of flesh that had been torn out of his torso, so raw and rough that it seared through his entire body, paralysing him from doing anything not because he didn't want to but because he was too broken to move anything.

This was no longer his own choice. He was so close, not even a second away from tasting victory, and it was ripped out of his hands like that because he was just too slow. He hadn't chosen to go out, he'd been killed, and the cruellest part was that in this final second before he plummeted to his death, he was aware of how futile his struggle against his fate was. No agency or choice, nothing he could do, not even his death would be his own decision.

Would the fall still kill him so close to the ground?

Would all this damage be enough to end it?

Would it hurt?

He didn't know. Because in those very last moments, where his instincts took over and he balanced his head away from the ground as he fell, the world around him faded to black and he was spared hearing the sound of his body breaking against the ground beneath him.

A/N: I'm new to and haven't a clue how this site works in terms of adding author's notes. You can find a more extensive description, some goals I want to write towards, and author's notes on the AO3 upload of this fic - /works/26989504/chapters/65880622