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2

Devil's Labourer

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It was dark inside the cellar.

Screaming. Burning. Smoke spilling through the cracks in the small cupboard her mother had stuffed her in.

'Stay quiet,' she'd told her. 'Stay quiet and I'll come back for you. Be good for me.'

Azye had obeyed. She stifled her screams, inching further, further into a corner of the wooden cupboards. Hot tears run down her face, her hands, disappearing into her charred dress.

Then a screeching yell.

Clattering from outside.

The cupboard door swings open, and all Azye sees are orange. Flames, flames, flames—

Eyes.

Golden, honey-filled eyes.

'Good girl,' A soft voice breathes, and burnt and blistered hands reach for her.

Her mother.

Azye's eyes widen, and the young girl scrambles into her mother's arms, finally allowing her sobs to escape. She cries, and cries, furrowing her small face into the woman's neck, short arms wrapping around her.

Her mother begins to run immediately. They were out of the abandoned house she was hidden in, rushing toward a pile of ruins, running, running— Running from what?

Her mother whimpers apologies, sobs ripping through her throat. Azye doesn't understand anything. Why was she apologising? They were together again, weren't they? That's all that mattered—

Black.

"Azye!"

Horror ripped her eyelids open, Azye shooting up in a sharp jerk at the sound of his voice, bright light flooding her vision. She sucked in rapid, shuddering breaths, dizzying nausea attacking her as bursts of colour flashed behind her eyes.

"Louis?" She rasped, her throat crackling dryly. Her eyes darted to the figure next to her, relief washing over her in waves at the sight of him. She strained, focusing her blurry vision acutely on her companion, and sighed in relief when the mess of dancing shadows and light morphed into a clear picture of his face.

"You're alright?" She asked hoarsely, coughing in discomfort.

Louis was standing to her left, bandages peppered on his face, neck. He wore a tan jacket, the Wings of Freedom branded on his sleeves. His hair was disheveled, his eyes red, face contorted in what she assumed to be worry, but he was okay. Alive. She calmed herself, threading a shaking hand through her hair.

His shoulders slumped, and the boy shot forward, pulling Azye into a sudden, crushing embrace. Azye grunted at the impact, swallowing back the hiss of pain, her ribs thrumming under her skin. She circled an arm around him, gently patting his back.

Louis squeezed harder, his face scrunching up in worry.

"You scared me." His voice trembled. He pulled away gently. "You've been out for two days, Az."

Azye furrowed her brows, a low thrumming in the back of her head distracting her from his words. She grit her teeth to silence a wince, pressing the heel of her palm to her temple as she tried to control the building headache.

Panic seized his tone. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Azye tried to speak, but her voice was painfully rough, her voice grating. She forced out a rough cough, swallowing to soothe the ache.

Louis immediately moved away from her, shuffling with something at her bedside, before holding a glass of water to her face.

"Drink." He instructed softly. "You'll feel better."

"Thanks," She croaked, taking the glass from him. Cocking her head back, she guzzled down the liquid greedily. Her throat sung in relief as she swallowed, the cool liquid soothing her arid throat.

She felt a lot more awake now, the chill of the liquid sending cool sparks scampering down to her fingertips.

Events of the chase rapidly returned to her mind, the sound of rain still thundering in her ears. Louis knocked out, sliding off her back, the pain, the screaming, the fighting— the anger, the fucking pressure of their Captain pinning her to the floor as the Commander spoke to her;

Everything came back.

And now, she was suddenly struck with unending worry.

She remembered their deal in full detail. One of her conditions to joining: treatment for Louis. She looked to her side, scanning the boy. He was beaten and bruised, probably recovering from a concussion, but he was awake. Awake and moving.

And if Louis was well, that meant the Commander had kept his end of the deal.

Which also meant another thing.

She and Louis were now members of the Survey Corps.

She cursed under her breath, eyes darting around the room. They were in an infirmary; that much was clear. The overwhelming white, the sharp tinge of alcohol permeating the unusually clean air, beds lined against the walls next to her, thin curtains separating the vacant stalls.

Hushed whispering and soft shuffling of feet coming from outside the door told her they weren't alone. They were being guarded.

Louis sighed, pushing aside the sheets on her bed, sitting down beside her.

"What the hell happened? We're Scouts now? I don't believe them— they say you signed us up for it, Az." He muttered, frowning. "I started training with them yesterday."

She blew out a breath, her lips bunching sourly as she directed her glare to the window to her right. The mid-morning sun spilled through the glass in warm rays, the infirmary lit up brightly with the golden light. She spotted a few soldiers running around the track outside the windows, training under the vast azure.

Azye caught Louis up on everything, the chasing, the offer.

"Their Commander says our crimes'll be pardoned if we join up with him." She said, scoffing at the memory. "Utter bullshit. It was either that or get executed by the MPs. It wasn't really a deal, Louis, it was this or death. Even though I've just effectively signed us a death warrant," she muttered bitterly, her harsh gaze burning into her lap. "How did we miss them, Lou? Right at the fucking gate— unbelievable."

"It can't have been a coincidence." He agreed, frowning. "Some fucker probably sold us out for cash." His tone turned bitter, jaw tightening. "I should have listened to you. It's my fault you agreed to the damn chase in the first place."

She pat his shoulder.

"No self pity." She muttered. "It was my decision as much as it was yours. You really think I'd have agreed if I didn't want to do it? It was shitty timing on both our parts, so leave it at that. We have worse things to focus on— like what the fuck we're doing here."

Louis groaned, burrowing his head into his open palms.

"You're right," He sighed, tilting his head back. His gaze hardened, his hands fisting atop his thighs. "The people that captured us— that's the fucking Special Ops, Az."

Her eyes widened at the information. She knew of them. Even Underground, people talked.

"Seriously? What the hell were they doing in the Caverns?"

"Hell if I know. They said it was for patrolling, but I call bullshit."

"They're lying." She agreed easily. "And it wasn't just the Special Ops. Why would the damn Commander be there if it was just patrolling? Stationed right at the gate, too." she grumbled, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Whatever the reason, we need to get out of here. We didn't make it out of one hell just to get stuck in another."

She looked up, eyes locking onto the brunette's face. His face was contorted in worry, his nails digging into his palms.

She softened at the sight, and clasped a palm firmly over his fisted hands.

"For now, we play along. They want us to be soldiers, then we'll be soldiers." Her voice dropped to a low whisper, her eyes flickering to the door of the infirmary, eyeing the shadows moving under the gap of the door. "We need them to trust us, L. Then we'll get the fuck outta here."

Louis nodded, grinning. His warm brown eyes brightened, glowing and catching the sunlight in a way she'd never seen before. "You got it, Az. They gotta trust us? Easy. We'll—"

He got cut off by a loud bang, the door to the infirmary swinging open.

Azye snapped her head back, and Louis shot off the bed, stepping forward defensively. Azye clutched her bed sheets, ready to jump off at the slightest notice.

A figure stood at the entrance, arguing with some voices guarding the door.

Louis straightened, sucking in a breath in recognition. He dipped his head down to Azye.

"Major Hange." He breathed, whispering under his breath. "Section Commander. They've been friendly to me, but they report directly to the Commander. Best be careful."

Azye nodded subtly, eyes trained at the open door.

The figure finally stepped through, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Hello, hello! Look who's finally awake!" They called, walking to her bedside with blinding speed. "And nice to see you again, Louis!"

They patted the boy's back, pushing up their glasses, as Louis reciprocated an equally enthusiastic greeting. He was all smiles again, playing into his boyish charm.

They laughed at something Louis said, before turning to Azye. "You must be the other new Recruit! I'm Section Commander Hange Zoe, call me Hange." They said with a wink. Hange thrust a hand toward her, grinning widely.

Azye had barely moved her hand towards her open palm before Hange latched onto her hand with both of their own, clasping tightly.

"Louis' told me a lot about you!"

"Has he, now?" She muttered.

Hange laughed, clapping Louis' shoulder— and the boy stumbled at the force of it. "He sure has!"

They stepped back, winking, and walked over to the other side of her bed to pick up a clipboard. "Do you mind if I have a look at you real quick? Then we can get you discharged."

Azye nodded hesitantly.

Hange fussed over her bandages, coaxing Azye out of the bed to perform a few stretches as Hange ticked away at the clipboard. Azye felt good to finally be moving again, the fatigue melting away from her. The dull ache was pleasurable, in its own way.

Hange tossed the clipboard onto the bed with a satisfied smile, hands on their hips. "You're good to go! The Commander is waiting for you in his office, but I'll let you clean up and eat something first. I'm sure you're starving."

Now that they mentioned it— it was true. She was ravenous. Azye gave them a careful nod.

"Alright."

"Awesome! What's your size?"

Azye nearly groaned in relief as the water, hot water for once in her life, struck her skin.

It had taken her a second to figure out how the contraption worked; bathing back home was simply done with a pail of water and a jug.

Hange had shown her to the bathroom of the infirmary, promising to drop off a set of uniform for her. She'd ripped that blue-green medical gown off her within seconds, desperate to be clean.

The moment the steaming water had hit her, Azye was melting. The pellets of water tore her skin like blunt needles, stinging in a pleasurable warmth. Her flesh wounds hissed, stinging and prickling painfully, but she paid them no mind; not when the water was warming her so, so deeply.

She would've been content to stay there for the rest of her life, if she could. Azye felt relaxed, for the first time in a while. It melted away the weight of her paranoia, distrust, and her shoulders felt free.

It washed everything away.

She was tempted to sit down on the floor, let the water patter on her head as she simply existed.

But she decided to scrub instead. Scrub with the soapy rag, cleanse every corner of her body as the grime washed away to her feet in a thin pool of lather.

She sunk her fingers into her scalp, stripping away the thoughts of anything but the warmth of the water. She closed her eyes as she worked, envisioning the blue of the sky, the golden yellow of the sun that she'd only caught a bare glimpse of.

But with that vision came its foil; the Caverns of Mitras. The Underground City.

It intrigued her, the fact that the Commander of the Corps was down there in the first place. Surely, the fabled Special Operations Squad had better things to do than prod around with half-dead criminals? It made her wonder if the Commander had been targeting her and Louis, or had come down to the Caverns with the intent to build soldiers from criminals.

The thought of it brought a sour taste to her mouth. Caverners did what they could to survive. To use that against them, in the name of Law, the same law that had abandoned them without a spared glance?

Pathetic.

She couldn't believe it was chance, either, the way Scouts had been waiting near the forest. She hated to believe that it was chance— She just couldn't.

She and Louis had chosen the North West stairwell knowing that it wouldn't be guarded— Only it fucking wasn't. They'd been ambushed nearly immediately; which was ridiculous! Even a stinking rat with a vendetta against them couldn't have managed to spread the news to the Corps that quickly.

Was it all a setup in the first place, then? Did she just walk straight into the spider's web? Had they been doomed from the start?

What was worse; Azye couldn't shake off the feeling that the Commander had gotten exactly what he'd come for. Had he really been looking for her and Louis specifically?

She clenched her jaw, threading a hand through the wet locks of her hair.

She had plenty of power Underground. Her name was known, and it was feared. But she for sure wasn't the only one who possessed ODM down there. One of the few who could actually wield the gear? Sure.

Was that truly the sole reason they'd been recruited? Because they could dance around in wires without lynching themselves? She held back a bitter scoff. What did that blonde fucker think, that she'd simply give up and dedicate her heart to the progress of humanity the moment she'd been subdued?

Of course she wouldn't. She was no good person. She wouldn't put aside her life, or the life of her allies that fucking easily.

Not in the slightest.

She was no vigilante, or some self-proclaimed Robin Hood that took it upon herself to save lives in the Underground. She didn't distribute her wealth to the half-dead fucks sat on the sewage-filled streets, or give it away to the children that would come begging at her feet.

No.

She was a thief, a pure criminal, through and through.

A fraud, a con artist.

A murderer.

She was just another piece of shit that littered the streets of the Underground— the only difference being that she wasn't starving half to death, and was decent with a blade. Her morality teetered over the blurring grey area of good and bad, and the only act of kindness she'd ever committed was stopping herself from killing Louis when he'd attempted to steal her bread when he was but a scrawny child; and that was only because she'd been a naive fool back then, soft at heart, with nothing to her name but the charred rags on her back.

So, then, why had the fucking Commander of the Survey Corps decided she was a good fit for serving humanity? If anything, they would have taken Louis and left her in the hands of the Military Police for execution— because Louis wasn't a fucking killer.

She was.

Guilt crept up her throat, and she swallowed to soothe the ache.

Murderers didn't get second chances. She'd never given others the luxury of a second chance.

So why did she deserve one?

While Azye couldn't exactly count the suicide regiment as a second chance, she had to acknowledge the fact that if it were the MPs instead, she would've been eating her last meal right then, not enjoying a hot fucking shower.

What had the Commander called it? Her strength.

Was that truly all it was? Had she been weaker, more foolish, would she still have been recruited into the corps?

No, Her mind hissed. You'd be dead instead.

It was the same everywhere then. If you were weak, you were useless. Strength gave you power, and with power, came opportunity— Opportunity that those of weak hearts couldn't stomach to follow through.

Azye wrung the metal pipe closed, huffing shallowly as the heat of steam suffocated her.

She didn't know how long she'd been in there. Her knees were too weak to keep her upright, the tenseness of her muscles dissolving into the steam. She steadied herself against the wall, weakly reaching for the white towel that rested against the stall. She pulled at it, allowing it to wrap her in a tight hold as she nudged the door open.

The fresh, cool air hit her immediately, sobering her from the daze of heat.

As promised, a small package of clothing waited for her on the opposing sink top.

She walked over, peering inside, wiping her damp hands on the towel around her body before opening the bundle of cloth. A button-up blouse, white trousers, a belt, socks, undergarments. Her own boots rested on the floor below the package— freshly cleaned, she noticed the black of the leather shining through for the first time in a while. She was glad. Even though she'd stolen them, Azye still had quite an attachment to the boots. They gave her a solid boost of height that sent her confidence shooting through the roof.

She pulled on her clothes, crouching to slide on the boots, lips twitching in satisfaction when her hands found the blades still hidden inside them. They hadn't found the compartments, after all.

She stood, relishing in the added inches, her eyes flickering to the fogged mirror.

She leaned over, brushing her towel across its surface, the fog clearing away as small steaks of water. She peered at herself, gathering her damp hair into the towel, patting to wring away the water. It was then that she noticed the new, thin red scar on the bridge of her nose. She wasn't pleased with it, but it looked like one that would fade given time.

She tilted her neck, and brushed a hand over her other, more noticeable scar. A jagged line running from the side of her neck to the front of it— as though someone had tried and failed to slit her throat.

That scar, as faded as it was, was a reminder. A reminder of her days before the Underground.

Days she remembered far too clearly for comfort.

His name flashed to the forefront of her mind, humming angrily behind her ears.

Kenny The Ripper.

Her teeth locked.

It wasn't something Azye talked about often, but the girl wasn't born Underground. For the first seven years of her life, Azye had lived Upstairs.

And that scar— she'd gotten it from The Ripper. The day that man murdered her mother, and the day she found herself waking up with nothing but burnt clothing covering her back, and a pair of bloody, faded earrings tucked into her hands.

But she'd never breathed a word about it.

As far as everyone else was concerned, she was an orphan of the slums, and nothing more. And she tried, really. To embody that persona. To forget about him, to forget about her mother and just focus on surviving in that place; to one day get herself out of there.

But it seemed that Kenny was a popular man in the Undercity. His name was whispered in every alleyway, in every bar and tavern, in the black markets and street gangs. And as Azye grew more powerful and built up a name of her own, the once quiet, scarcely spread whispers of the Ripper only grew louder, more insistent. She supposed it was a good thing; at least she wasn't completely unaware and blind to his existence— It was better to suffer the truth rather than lurk in the darkness, after all.

Azye didn't know what would happen if the man ever found her— if he ever recognised her. She was utterly clueless as to why her mother was hunted by him in the first place, and it hadn't been a very high priority task for her to find out.

She pulled back, shutting away the unwanted thoughts. She thread a hand through her damp hair, the clean scent of it flooding her nostrils.

She had far more imminent things to focus on.

#

Hange's eyes widened as Azye walked out, their eyes raking Azye's form.

"Wow. You look like a whole new person." Hange commented, grinning. "How was the shower? Clothes fit alright?"

"Yeah," She said, adjusting her sleeve. "All fine."

Hange hummed. "That's good to hear! I have the uniform jacket for you, by the way. They didn't have your size for the uniform boots yet, so you'll have to wear your old ones for today."

Azye nodded in brief thanks.

Hange cracked a smile, thrusting the tan jacket into her hands. "Put it on!"

Azye hesitated for a second, before flicking open the jacket, examining the fabric before pulling it on. It fit snugly, with enough room left over to move freely. It was a surprisingly light jacket, despite how thick it felt in her hands— perfect for soldiers.

Hange smiled. "Look at you! Welcome to the Survey Corps, Azye!"

Azye couldn't help but feel a jab of unease twisting inside her.

She masked her thoughts, nodding simply as she pretended to adjust the jacket.

Play the part.

"Where's Louis?" Azye asked, her eyes darting around the empty corridor they stood in.

Hange hummed, slinging a hand over Azye's shoulder as they had done with Louis earlier. Azye tensed at the sudden contact, fighting the urge to swat their arm away.

"He's waiting for you in the Mess Hall. Let's get you some food!"

Azye could honestly say that she'd forgotten the taste of fresh bread and soup.

It tasted heavenly.

Maybe it was the fact she hadn't had a hot meal in months.

Hange had left earlier, leaving her to enjoy her meal with Louis. They'd informed her to finish up quickly, that they'd be returning to escort the two to Erwin's Office. It surprised her that she and Louis were left alone; but she didn't question it, chalking it up to the Scouts' attempt at earning their trust.

Azye ate her food quickly, Louis sitting opposite her. He'd eaten earlier that morning, before she'd woken, with the rest of the Special Operations Squad. The other Scouts had already reported to morning training, so the Mess Hall was empty with the exception of her and Louis.

Azye swallowed her final bite, washing down the food with a long gulp of water.

Louis shot her a grin. "How'd you like it?" He asked, resting his cheek on his propped arm.

"It's like ambrosia," She admitted, setting down the empty glass, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Louis laughed softly. "Isn't it? The food tastes so much better up here."

She hummed an agreement.

Louis grinned.

"I got something for you, by the way. Close your eyes." He said slyly, holding out his own fisted hand.

Azye furrowed her brows suspiciously, but complied anyway, sticking a palm out, eyes closed. She tried not to jerk when he dropped a few small objects onto her hand.

"Alright, open!"

She obliged, bringing her hand to her face, careful not to drop the objects—

And her heart leapt into her throat.

Earrings. Her fucking earrings.

Her other hand darted to her ears, lips parting in shock, only just remembering the missing hoop and studs.

"You idiot," She said, picking up the small items. "How do you have them? I thought I'd lost them in the forest."

It was a black helix ring, and a pair of small, square metal studs, fading red gems fit in them. Louis wore a matching hoop on his earlobe to match her helix ring, Azye only just realising the boy still adorned the piece of jewellery.

The studs had been an old gift from her mother, the only reminder she had left of the woman.

And the helix ring had been something another man had gifted her.

His name, Alexis Meier.

Alex.

Her chest burned at the thought of him. Alex was… Well, it was safe to say her family hadn't always been just her and Louis.

She remembered the day he had brought a pair of small hoops home, fully intending to give the pair to Azye.

Louis was young, ten or eleven back then, and he'd walked in on Alex thrusting a needle into Azye's ear. He'd shrieked as though he'd seen a demon, Azye simply watching with amusement, holding back her snickers when tears sprung to the boy's eyes.

She'd assured him that it was only a pinch, while Alex chortled away next to her. And then, of course, little Louis had demanded he be pierced next ("If Az can handle it, I can too! I want one!"). And of course, Alex had agreed without hesitation, his cackling laughter booming in the dingy building they'd adopted as their home. Azye had been a lot more skeptical, knowing that he'd be crying like a fucking baby if she wouldn't hold his hand the entire time, but she'd ultimately agreed, gifting the boy the other hoop.

In hindsight, maybe it was a bad idea for two teenagers to pierce a whining child in an unsanitary old building.. but he'd turned fine.

Her heart warmed at the memory. She was different, back then; both she and Louis were. When Alex was still alive, before he was so unfairly taken from them. They'd grown up too fast after that. Louis didn't deserve it— not that early. He didn't deserve to see death so damn young.

She closed her hands around the metal objects fondly.

Louis clicked his tongue, crossing his arms childishly. "Wow, Azye. I do all that for you and all I get are insults? You're terrible. I'm never doing anything for you again."

"Quit the dramatics, pal." Azye warned, feigning annoyance, despite the warmth welling in her chest.

Louis cracked a grin, peeking at Azye from the side. "Come on, I thought you'd shed a tear at least, for my heroic actions."

Azye rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ears as she clipped on the jewellery. "How'd you save them?"

He shrugged. "You still had them on you in the infirmary. They wanted to get rid of them to stop infection or some shit, so I just held onto them for you."

"…Thank you. How did that go, anyway? When did you wake up?"

"About a few hours after they arrived, but that's a long story. Thought you were dead when I saw you." He confessed.

Azye looked to him, quirking a brow, standing as she gathered her empty dishes. "I wouldn't die."

He grinned, a mischievous glint to his eyes as he leaned toward her. "Yeah, tough shit, you just collapse into the Commander's arms after losing too much blood. Fucking idiot."

Azye grimaced. "I did what?"

Louis snickered, his lips curving. "This girl, Petra, in Special Ops, told me had to haul you from his arms to strap you to her horse," He snorted, his laughter echoing in the empty hall. "I would have paid to see that!"

"Shut it," She bit out, scowling. He followed her as she walked away, both of them delivering the dishes back to the kitchen. "When the hell did Hange say they're getting back?"

Louis laughed, thumping a hand over her shoulders as he leaned into her. "They'll be here soon, quit whining." He paused, a sly grin overtaking his face. Azye nearly groaned. "Or are you just that excited to see the Co—mmph!"

She didn't let him finish, the back of her fist thudding into his stomach in a sharp jab. He folded over with a groan, clutching his stomach, still somehow stifling laughter despite being punched square in the gut.

She shook away from him, letting the boy ease himself up again, still cackling.

"Sorry, sorry!" He grinned, wiping away his tears. "You have to admit, it's fucking hilarious. A gang lord—"

"Yeah, just go yelling that around for the world to hear." She scoffed, pushing past the boy before he could finish.

"Right, right." He snickered. "Sorry."

"Hey, you two! You've finished eating?"

Azye looked over her shoulder, finding Hange waving at the two of them from the entrance of the mess hall, a stack of papers in their hands. "Come on over, Commander Erwin's ready for ya!"

Louis sighed heavily.

"Here we go," He muttered under his breath, stepping into line with Azye. "Don't do anything stupid, Az."

"Doubles for you." She grumbled.

Hange's presence was limited to the door of the Commander's Office, it seemed, the Major disappearing once the doors had opened. She'd vaguely heard them mutter something about labs, experiments, none of which really made sense to Azye, and none of which she, frankly, gave a fuck about.

The office itself was not as grand as she'd expected it to be. It was about half the size of the infirmary they'd been in earlier, only more organised, cozy in a way she assumed was meant to comfort the soldiers that went in and out of the room.

The Commander sat at a chair behind his desk, his hands clasped together in front of him. A large window was built behind him, the sunlight of the mid-morning sun brightening the room with its soft golden rays. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with reading material, and intricately carved paperweights decorated its more empty spots. His desk was impeccably clean, empty, except for a single nameplate made of glistening metal, his title carved into it with visible care.

Commander Erwin Smith, it read.

Her eyes darted around the room, landing on another other, heavier presence. A gravitating presence, that had her freezing in her tracks.

Her eyes locked onto a head of raven hair— and a violent memory flashed to the forefront of her mind.

"He's on her tail!"

The man looked over at her, as if sensing her stare— and their eyes locked.

He didn't speak— but he didn't have to. A subtle narrowing of his eyes felt like an electric shock, clear warning flashing behind his silver hues.

Azye felt her mind flaring with alarm, her body going rigid with agitation.

The Captain.

She returned the hostility in full force, unconsciously squaring her shoulders, her eyes sharpening fiercely. She felt a phantom force buzzing at her chin, a reminder of how easily he'd subdued her.

Louis put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in a silent plea.

She snapped her eyes back to the Commander, breaking away from the Captain's searing gaze. Azye balled her hands into fists, blinking back the memories of the chase. She needed to focus.

Erwin stood, gesturing to the seats opposite him.

"Welcome, Louis, Azye. Take a seat," He said, smiling kindly. He looked to Azye. "I'm glad to see you've healed well."

She threw him a glance, stepping forward to pull back a chair. She felt Louis do the same beside her, the boy taking the seat closer to the Captain. A conscious choice, she was willing to bet.

"I am too." She responded flatly, settling into the chair. She crossed her arms, focusing on the man in front of her. There was so much she needed to say, to talk about. "How will this work? Why're you letting us move around without escorts? Are we not your prisoners?"

Erwin's eyes glinted blue, catching the morning sunlight.

"Straight to the point, I see," He chuckled, an easy smile on his lips.

Azye frowned when he didn't answer immediately, rather reaching over his desk, pulling out named files and shuffling through their pages. He paused when he landed on the correct page, and the man pulled it out. He slid the papers over to Azye and Louis with the tips of his fingers.

"To answer your question, Azye, no. You are not our prisoners. You will be treated as soldiers, as much as anyone else in the scouts." He didn't let her ask any more questions, gesturing to the sheet of paper in front of them. "This sheet has all of the information we've gathered about the two of you and your crimes."

She frowned. "Why are you giving this to us?"

He leaned back in his chair. "As a token of my trust."

At her confused expression, Erwin nodded.

"As a soldier in the Survey Corps, you are expected to trust your superiors. You are expected to uphold respect and discipline when addressing higher officers, and you are expected to put your faith into their decisions outside the Walls." She opened her mouth in protest, but Erwin held up a hand, silencing her. "Of course, I don't expect you to immediately fall into this routine. Nor will you be going anywhere near the walls until you've gotten adequate training. Trust comes with time, and we will get nowhere if we do not establish a level common ground in our early days." He gestured to the paper once again. "This sheet truly is all the information we have gathered on the both of you. There are no other copies of it, nor will there ever be more."

She frowned, her eyes not leaving the Commander. "Do you expect us to just believe you, just like that?"

Erwin shook his head. "I do not. But I suppose this is where our first exercise of trust comes in. It will be your choice, whether to accept it or not."

She frowned in annoyance. He wasn't being the slightest bit threatening. She didn't sense anything of that sort from him. But she felt like there was something missing. He was omitting information, rather than lying to her face, or simply treating her like shit. Hostility, she was prepared for. Warning and threats, handcuffs and jail cells, she was prepared for.

But she was not at all prepared to be thrust into the role of Soldier so quickly— and she couldn't bring herself to believe it. There was something she was missing— a big, big thing— and it irked her to the ends of Hell.

She wanted to get it out of him before it was too late.

Erwin clearly noticed her skepticism, and he leaned back into his chair. He pulled out a lighter— a simple one, enclosed with a smooth metal casing. He slid over the table, and it stopped right above the sheet of parchment.

"Burn it."

There was a beat of silence.

Louis sucked in a sharp breath next to her.

"What?" She questioned lowly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Burn the paper." He repeated, clasping his hands together. He rested his elbows on the table, dropping his chin atop his linked hands. "Any information I need to hear will only come from you, and you alone. That is the trust I will put in you both."

She just stared at him, searching for a hint of hypocrisy— but there was none.

"You're crazy," She said, leaning back in the chair, her voice light with disbelief. "Why are you doing this?"

"I've found it to be a surefire method of conveying my intentions." He said with a smile, but his eyes were hard. "While I gather that my usual methods will not make a dent in the bubble of distrust you've built around us, I find that honesty always gets through in the end."

"You're being a little too honest," She said incredulously, her eyes sharpening into a tight glare. "If I got up and left right now, would you even stop me? Or would that be another trust exercise for you?"

Erwin chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"No. I wouldn't stop you." His eyes flashed. His face settled into a tight smile, and he tilted his head— toward his Captain.

"But he will."

Azye went rigid, a jolt running down her spine. Her face hardened, and she snapped her gaze to him.

He was already looking at her— Silver daggers boring into her eyes, flashing dangerously, warningly. She clenched her jaw, her teeth painfully rigid under the pressure. Again, he didn't say anything. Just glared in silent warning, burning holes through her head.

She'd be foolish to think she could outrun them. Not in her current state. It wasn't something she'd admit out loud, but Azye was hurt. Each step she took ached, and her ribs thrummed painfully with every breath deeper than necessary. The pain itself wasn't anything she was unused to, but it would be a hindrance in more crucial moments— and there wasn't anyway she could use the ODM Gear without the pain turning suffocating.

That meant they'd be stuck there until she could move properly— and even then, they had to be careful. Clashing against him head on would cause more harm than good; and they were in no position to be sacrificing any ounce of an advantage they might've scraped together at that point.

But with the way he stared down at her, patronising, challenging, she couldn't fucking help it.

Suddenly, Azye stood, her chair screeching backward as it grated against the wooden floorboards.

The Captain bristled, his jaw clenching— and her resolve steeled. Their gazes clashed like bolts of lightning; and the tension was so palpable she could have moulded it like dough with her bare hands.

She saw Erwin's smile drop from his face, and Louis immediately moved forward to subdue her.

"Azye." He warned lowly, gripping her leg tightly. "Sit the fuck down."

He hadn't moved from his chair, just leaning forward to separate her from the Captain— But the boy was mistaken. The Captain wasn't her target.

Her venomous glare dropped to the boy beside her, and Louis only tightened his grip, gritting his teeth. She always forgot how fierce he grew when it became necessary. In another setting, the spark of pride in her chest would have consumed her fully, but not now. Right now, she had a goal.

"Move." She ordered, her eyes flashing warningly.

His expression faltered, but he held on tighter. "What do you—"

"Move."

Louis' jaw tightened, and he slowly dropped his hand, pushing himself back into his chair.

Azye snatched herself away, propping her boot onto her chair. She fished out the thin blade hidden in it, wielding it in front of her. Sunlight bounced off the glimmering metal as she twirled back around to face the Commander, a circle of light reflecting onto her eyes.

Erwin watched her carefully, any traces of false sincerity melting off his face.

There it was.

The Captain took a threatening step forward, and he would have probably made it to her, but Erwin shot his hand to his side, stopping him from coming any closer.

"Erwin," The Captain growled warningly, his voice low and threatening. His hands were balled into fists, the skin of his knuckles bloodless. "One fucking word."

"Stand down, Levi." Erwin ordered— and a sound of warning came from the Captain. She ignored it, her eyes locking with the Commander.

If Erwin's glare could burn, she'd have been smoked to ash. But that's what she wanted to see— That hatred in his eyes. The true, plain distrust.

Azye threw the blade onto the table, and the dull metal bounced with sharp clangs, clattering to a harsh stop in front of the Commander.

She leaned forward.

"You don't know how many blades I have on me right now." She said, her voice dripping with malice. "But I've just given you one. What does that mean to you?"

Erwin's eyes were trained on hers, sharp, blue eyes calculating, analysing. Burning.

Azye braced her hands onto the desk, leaning forward.

"Because it should mean that you can't trust me," She spoke brusquely. "Since I might have something that I could kill you with."

There was a beat of silence, as she studied the Blonde man's face with the sharpest look she had— The look that she had reserved for the filthiest of men.

And when he said nothing, and his face remained in a sharp, stoic stare, she snatched herself away— and the tension snapped like a band of elastic.

"That's the face I want to see," Azye stated calmly, pausing to pluck the blade from the table. She ran her thumb along its edge. "Not some bullshit mask. You don't trust me. I don't trust you. It as simple as that."

She turned, dragging back her chair, settling next to Louis.

"Now, let's talk properly," She said. Azye put her blade onto the table, sliding it forward, letting it sit next to the lighter. Her eyes flickered to the man before her.

"Because the only common ground we'll ever have is distrust."

And for a long moment, nobody spoke.

She could practically feel the absolute rage simmering from the Captain, Erwin's word the only thing holding him back from ripping her into shreds. But she didn't regard him, focusing solely on the Commander— because he was the one she needed to deal with right then. Nobody else.

And just when it felt like he wouldn't ever speak,

Erwin smirked.

A tug at the corner of his lips, and a mad glint flashing in his eyes.

He leaned forward, and the Captain stiffened.

Louis, too, took in a shuddering breath, his fingers circling the armrests, digging into the wood.

"Tell me," He started lowly, clasping his hands together. "Out of all your crimes, which do you think would send your head rolling in the sand the fastest?"

She paused, searching the man's eyes.

"I imagine all of them would." She replied slowly.

"That's where you're wrong," Erwin spoke, the smooth baritone of his voice sharpening a hundredfold. "There is only one mistake you've ever made, Azye."

And somewhat magically, Erwin conjured her ODM Gear— the damaged, broken gear she'd secured from Underground— from under his desk. He put it down in front of them, The broken metal clattering, pieces falling apart to his touch, rust flaking off the corroded metal.

"And the name of your mistake is Dax Elrod." Erwin stated, and Azye's heart lurched. Her eyes snapped to the Commander. She knew that name. "Do you recognise it?"

Her blood ran cold. Azye said nothing, her nails digging into the bandages covering the palm of her hands.

How the fuck did he know that name?

Erwin pushed the gear toward her, his eyes practically glowing. "This is the ODM Gear you had on your person. And fortunately for us, its serial number is intact. From it, we can identify it's previous owner: An officer of the Military Police Brigade."

He clasped his hands together. "Officer Elrod was reported missing five years ago, after a mission in the Underground that he did not return from. He was then declared dead two years later, when his mangled corpse was found floating down the sewers of the Underground's Third District."

"Furthermore, the first reports of ODM Gear being used in Third District began to pop up, five years ago." He tilted his head. "Tell me, your home district is the Third, is it not?"

Azye's heart would have leapt out of her chest given the chance— but Azye would never let it. She clenched her jaw tight, masking all emotion, her eyes locked into a murderous glare.

Erwin nodded, tapping a single finger onto his desk.

"He was your one mistake." Erwin said, his voice hard. "Dax Elrod was able to be identified, and linked to your name." He leaned forward, and Erwin's voice dropped into a low taunt. "Do you know who that man was, Azye?"

"What, some noble rat I should be afraid off?" She spat wryly, her eyes swimming with aggravation.

Erwin didn't know shit. She'd done no wrong.

If anything, destroying Dax Elrod was the one thing she'd ever done right in her life— the one thing she would do over and over again, given the chance. That fucking bastard deserved everything she'd given him.

"Exactly that." Erwin said. He pursed his lips into a thin line. "And you should be even more afraid, considering that Dax Elrod is family to Nile Dok, the Commander of the Military Police Brigade. If it comes to light that I have you, someone affiliated with the disappearance of both his soldier and blood relative, under my custody, what do you think they'll do to you?"

And when she said nothing, her eyes simmering with unspilled anger, Erwin leaned forward.

"They'll ruin you. They'll tear you apart, and throw a feast to your dying words." Erwin sat back, and his voice hardened. "But I assure you, I am not the least bit interested in seeing that happen."

She swallowed dryly.

Here it came.

"You say that the only common ground we'll ever have is distrust. But I fully disagree with you on that account." He paused, his eyes softening with understanding— but her stomach only twisted uncomfortably at his pity. She didn't want it. "I don't know your story. I don't know if you were in fact affiliated with Officer Elrod, or if you had nothing to do with the man. And I will not pry, until you are comfortable enough to share that information with me yourself."

Azye studied the commander, her eyes carefully guarded, a hint of a frown tugging on her lips.

"Why?" She asked, her hands fisting. She swallowed a lump in her throat, her stomach lurching uncomfortably. "Why are you letting me live? What do you want from us?"

Erwin's eyes flashed, and the man met her eyes evenly, his voice steeling.

"I want your strength." He stated simply. "The Survey Corps fight for Humanity. We dedicate our heart to achieving the future that nobody else will fight for, to secure peace from the eternal War against the Titans. We will not stop until it ends. And I want your strength on my side. On Humanity's side."

He suddenly stood, bracing his hands on the desk as Azye had done moments prior. He looked menacingly large, towering over them, his blue eyes flashing with the sparks of ideals. Ideals and motives that Azye lacked. Unlike her, it wasn't just the fire of survival in his eyes. There was a hunger, a hunger for victory, a hunger for more. For knowledge. For Power.

Azye fisted her hands tightly, ignoring the stinging in her palms as the bandages ripped under the pressure.

"I do not blame you for your crimes— Not one bit. It is not your fault that your life began in the Underground. It is not your fault the world is against you. I blame the Walls, and the Titans that forced us within them. I blame the corruption of this system, forcing us to live in a cage of meaningless void; like livestock. But you can escape that, with us." His eyes flashed with sincerity— and raw emotion. "Fight with us. Fight with us, and you will not have to run alone. Because if you run alone, you will collide with the edge of Humanity. But with the Survey Corps,"

He dipped his head further.

"We break through those Walls. You will be free. You will be free, and you will live."

She could only listen. Listen, as the man poured out his heart in front of her, his words pulling with a hellish force she could only describe to be gravitating. He spoke as though his words were the ultimate, absolute truth. As though everything he said would come alive, no matter what.

But Azye wasn't blind.

It was a farce, all of it. A mask— the very mask she'd tried to rip from him. His fight for humanity was nothing but a spiel, a string of meaningless words that would weasel themselves into the hearts of naive children.

And Azye was neither a child, nor naive.

Those damn words that he so carefully crafted, so brilliantly executed, might have been enough to make a young, idealistic teenager blindly follow him to the ends of the World— and even beyond the ends of the World, but they weren't enough for Azye.

She was a rotten, selfish piece of shit— A piece of shit that only cared about two things.

Survival, and safety.

And his death march would provide neither. For her, nor Louis.

But even then, Azye knew she was cornered. Cornered by the Corps, cornered by his words, and most vitally, cornered by her mistake.

She clenched her jaw.

"Destroy the ODM Gear." She said hoarsely, standing from her chair. She stepped forward, her eyes fierce, She rammed a hand onto the table, and the metal rustled loudly as it shook with the force of it. "Destroy it in front of me right now, and I'll fight with you. I give you my word."

Louis sucked in a sharp breath.

"Are you sure?" He muttered from her side, his eyes flickering between her and the Commander.

Azye didn't waver. She nodded firmly, her eyes not leaving the Commander. "Completely."

Erwin searched her eyes. Scanning, for a drop of insincerity, of deception, of fraudulence.

But he found none.

And he wouldn't ever find any, no matter how long he looked, because Azye was telling the utter, plain truth.

Erwin's jaw tightened.

"Levi." He called suddenly, removing his hands from the desk. He stepped back, his gaze breaking from Azye, locking to his Captain. He moved his chin toward the gear. "If you will."

Azye looked to the Captain.

The man's jaw clenched tightly, and he held the Commander's fierce gaze with a fiery one of his own.

They had some sort of unspoken battle, a clash of wills that Azye couldn't decipher. Erwin's gaze was relentless, and the Captain eventually looked away, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

He stalked to the table, snatching the gear up, clutching it tightly. Broken, rusted pieces fell from the main housing, clattering onto the wood with dull, heavy thunks.

His lips curled, as if in disgust.

She thought he'd smash it against something, throw it out the window— but no.

He squeezed it with his bare hands, the veins on his forearms pulsing with the force of his grip.

There was a sudden, piercing crack—

And the metal shattered into pieces, raining onto the table in a rain of colours.

It would be a lie to say that Azye wasn't stunned by his strength.

Granted, the metal was rusted and already falling apart at his touch, but ODM Metal was special. It was forged to be especially durable, and yet, he'd destroyed it as if it were nothing.

The Captain discarded the shattered pieces onto the table, pulling out a handkerchief, wiping at his hands.

He returned to Erwin's side, his face fixed in a stoic, yet vicious glare. A glare that was directed at her.

"It's done." Erwin said, his voice low.

Azye nodded, eyes locked on the Commander. Her gaze flickered to the shattered pieces on his desk, and she walked up to it. One piece caught her eye. A thin, rectangular piece.

She picked it up.

SERIAL NUMBER, it read, a string of undecipherable characters etched under it, filthy brown rust caked between its cracks.

She circled her hands around the piece, tucking it into the back pocket of her pants.

Azye looked up, locking eyes with the Commander.

She held out an open palm, throwing him a tight-lipped nod.

"I gave you my word." She said. Her eyes caught the golden sunlight, glowing a light amber. "I intend to keep it. I'll fight."

Erwin took her hand in his, clasping tightly. His hand was warm, even through her unraveling bandages, and large enough to engulf her own, but she grasped it firmly. Tightly, conveying a silent promise.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he shook her hand with resolute understanding.

"And I shall hold you to it, Soldier."

#

The rest of their meeting went by relatively calmly. Erwin had asked them more questions, filling out the necessary paperwork that they'd overlooked at the beginning of the meeting.

Surnames, ages, past illnesses & allergies… most of which were questions she didn't have answers to. If she were to guess, Azye was probably 23, or 24 at her oldest. Any knowledge of her surname was lost to time, and as for illnesses and allergies, she could only guess.

Louis, however, had more concrete answers. The boy was 17. He was an orphan, so he didn't have a last name either. But he was allergic to green apples— A pathetic thing to be allergic to, in her opinion.

"Here," Erwin slid her a folder. "This folder contains the legalities. Your obligations, rules and regulations you must follow, and the technicalities of becoming a Scout. Now, this also means there will be no tolerance for insubordination. You will be punished, just as any other cadets would. In saying that, you will also be receiving a personal salary like the other Scouts, details of which are enclosed in the folder."

She quirked a subtle brow at the latter comment, surprised. They really were being treated as regular soldiers.

"Give it a read through. Now, about your placements into a squad. I'm not sure if you've been informed about the arrangements already?" He asked, pausing with his hand over the file.

She shook her head, denying, despite the fact Louis had told her bits and pieces.

He nodded, shuffling with some other papers. "You'll be training under Captain Levi's command, and the both of you will be placed into his charge and squad until the end of your probation period. You will work with Squad Levi until our upcoming expedition, for the duration of which you will be reassigned to a different team. You will continue to work in that squad from then on, unless, of course, Captain Levi wishes to officially draft you for his Squad post Expedition."

She stiffened, biting back a frown at the thought of working under him. In other words, he'd be babysitting them.

"Where will we be for the expeditions, then? And when's the first? What happens after?" Louis asked, peeking at the folder over Azye's shoulder.

Erwin smiled, leaning back in his chair. "You will be assigned to a squad leader who will play to your strengths. You'll be placed in a relatively safe position, considering you'll only be getting roughly six months of training before then, which is considerably less than regular recruits. Details of the next expedition will be given out closer to the date. Each individual squad will venture outside the walls six times a year, one Expedition with the entire brigade, and five Scouting Missions every other month— you will not be joining the corps on these missions until your first expedition. The Special Operations Squads will go on other, separate operations, by my request. You are free to join them on those if you wish. Official details are included in the folder I've given you."

Azye nodded, soaking in the information.

"A final thing. You have been filed as transfers from the Northern Training Corps, so if anybody asks, you are free to feed them that official story. Of course, the Special Operations Squad were the ones who assisted in your capture, so they do know the truth; as do the Section Commanders of the Survey Corps. Those are Majors Hange Zoe, and Mike Zacharias. I'm sure you'll meet them in due time. That is all."

She recognised the dismissal in his voice. Azye reached over to grab the file on the desk, standing. Louis shifted next to her, as he too stood.

Erwin smiled warmly at the both of them. "I wish you well. Good luck, and I hope your transition into the Scouts goes smoothly. I look forward to working with you both."

"Likewise, Commander."

.

.

notes

i had so much fun writing Erwin for this one, haha. Hope you enjoyed it! Leave a review if you did, I'd love to hear from you!

Lots of love!