Chapter One

The Invitation

Oliver's POV

Not much more than a glance. Oliver noticed that was how Section Commander Captain Rae Ackerman decided on the new additions to his special operations squad. During the previous expedition beyond the wall, his small squad of humanity's most elite had been wiped out in their best attempt to cover everyone else's escape from an unexpected horde of titans on prairie land. That was the story anyway.

They said Captain Ackerman was the last one standing by the end of it, yet he looked more like a corpse than any of the others when he returned alone. Oliver saw that part for himself. Tasteless stare and hushed, curt replies to any who tried to talk to him. He wondered if the war-hardened Captain was even hurting under all that facade or if he was truly that numb to it all. After all, how many funerals had he attended? How many of his comrade's broken bodies had he helped recover? Anyone would be sick of death by then.. But Oliver guessed it might be different if you've been around the same squad for a while.

Oliver never really had that problem. He had barely been with the Scouts for two years, and despite already creating a name for himself, he wasn't much of a team player. He was pretty sure his own captain hated him. But no one survived very long with the Scouts, so relationships were pointless, even with squads. Some of the morons he was stuck with were so painfully incompetant they lost limbs or their lives within their first trips outside the walls. Yeah, sucked to watch, but it never surprised Oliver. In fact, people like them were the reason he decided he'd only be relying on himself and his own skill.

That's why he was surprised to have received an invitation to meet Captain Ackerman this morning. Whatever possessed the Captain to invite Oliver of all people was beyond him, sure he knew he had skills but he didn't think it was a reason to go crazy or anything. Only a few others had been called in with him that week and every single one of them had been asked to join the elite squad. It was safe to assume that could be what this meeting was about, but it confused Oliver all the same.

The young Scout absentmindedly rummaged through the top drawer of his dresser, staring down at the folded shirts there with a half-lidded gaze. Yeah, he'd need to be in uniform, even if it was super early. He huffed quietly through his nose with subtle irritation as he got himself dressed, adjusting his uniform so it would be considered acceptable, though he had no desire to look perfect as the others who had been summoned. Why would he? If he was being invited then he was being invited, obnoxiously perfect uniform or not.

It would be 'or not' for Oliver. A pale jade gaze slid over to land upon his snoring roommate and with a wrinkle of his nose, Oliver stepped out into the hall. The distant scent of fresh rain lingered in the hallway for longer than the Scout would've liked. It had rained last night, and although more was expected for the day, it had stopped long enough for things to at least dry up a little. He typically liked the rain, but if the roof and floors kept getting soaked they'd end up with musty smelling barracks… even more so than they already were. He scrunched his nose at the thought and absentmindedly flickered his gaze up to the ceiling to keep an eye out for any leaks on his way to the Captain's office.

Sure enough, he had to step over a small puddle that had formed in the middle of the hallway, rain water having seeped through the ceiling overnight and dripped onto the floor. Though he had caught sight of it before slipping, it was small enough that he imagined some of the less wary rookie Scouts would end up flat on their asses if they weren't paying attention. Good for them.

Speaking of rookie Scouts, Oliver had no intention of bumping into any this morning. He'd try to make his trip to the captain's office quick so he wouldn't have to escape a half-assed all too energetic conversation that most of the young Scouts tried to force upon him. He had no clue why they were so intent on trying to get all buddy-buddy and talk to people. This was a Titan killing regiment not a sleep-away camp. Some of them didn't even know the difference and it made Oliver's desire to avoid most of them even stronger. He wasn't here to make friends.

His train of thought came to a stop as he reached Captain Ackerman's door. He stared blankly at it for a moment, his eyes falling into a small squint. He didn't know what to expect, maybe he wasn't here for an invitation to the new Special Operations Squad. Maybe he'd just pissed someone off again and had to get a talking to. Fuck that.

Either way, he couldn't stand out there forever, so he took a deep breath and reached forward to firmly knock twice. There was an immediate response.

"Come in." A smooth voice from behind the door.

Oliver reached for the handle, his hand lingering for a moment before he turned it and stepped inside, his gaze falling upon the renowned captain as he straightened out his posture a little bit. He was never really dying to show physical respect for any authority, regardless of if they expected it from him or not, but Ackerman was an exception. He knew about his reputation, and after just losing his entire squad, Oliver felt like it was the least he could do.

But the Captain's office was…. a hot mess, dirty dishes set here and there on shelves and a large desk, books and documents strewn about the coffee table and couches, and plenty of empty liquor bottles in the corner. Whatever, Oliver wasn't respecting the way he kept his shit, just the man himself.

Captain Rae Ackerman leaned back in his desk chair, ankles crossed atop the surface itself, but he slowly brought his boots back to the ground as Oliver entered. A dreary, dangerously bland expression shadowed his features. Calm, yet brooding. Even his shoulders slumped a little as he sat up. It was no understatement to say the circles beneath his eyes were almost black.

"I'll make this quick. You already know why you're here." Rae lifted a small folder of documentation and dropped it in the middle of his desk, as though to show he'd been doing some reading on Oliver. The Scout furrowed his brows, staring down at the folder as it plopped against the desk. He didn't know whether to be honored or creeped out, he hated when people checked in on his stuff.

"You're barely past the fresh-face stage, but your record is already building. Four kills and eighteen assists. It's barely been two years and you're a rookie. I've been watching you for a while."

The Captain leaned back again, arms along the supports of the seat, and met Oliver's eyes with murky violet orbs. Oliver barely maintained his steel-faced expression, keeping completely still while inwardly stifling a shudder, that wasn't a very charming look after all. Exhaustion and plain irritation reigned in the furrow of the captain's brow.

"Are you interested in skipping several promotions and jumping into the Special Operations Squad?"

Huh. So Oliver had deduced correctly, even if it hadn't really made a lot of sense, he was getting invited after all. He had a lot of confidence in his skills, he knew he was a strong asset to the Scouts, but for Special Ops? Was he really qualified for that? He stared blankly back at the Captain for a moment in thought. It felt a little surreal, this was the most respected and well-known Captain in the Survey Corps and he was requesting him personally. There had to be something in that, right? Maybe it was all just in Oliver's head, he couldn't really say no, could he?

"Uh… if you think I'm actually cut for it then sure…"

His reply was serious and dark, despite the uncertainty that lingered in his mind. Though uncertainty drifted into intrigue as he watched the ever so slight spark of life twinkle in the captain's all but dead gaze. It was brief, barely noticeable. Maybe he'd just imagined it, because his expression fell blank again as he stood from the desk, his arm sweeping behind him to grab the cloak that was laid over his chair, slipping it on in one swift movement.

"Good. I'm clearing your schedule for the day. I need a personal assessment of your skills. Might as well leave now, since you're early anyways, and avoid all the whispering runts."

Oliver couldn't help but blink in surprise. He wanted an assessment already, was the captain always so on top of things? Well, Special Ops was kind of its own beast, expectations and operations were different. So Oliver adjusted his posture again and offered a curt nod, remaining silent for now as he mulled over the whirlwind of information. What kind of assessment would take all day?

A sudden flurry of sharp knocks on the door dragged Oliver from his thoughts again, and he shifted his gaze to the captain who placed two hands on his desk and leaned forward with a long sigh and brows pinched downward. The knocks didn't stop until Ackerman called out to whatever overly-caffeinated idiot was assaulting the door.

"Come in, Section Commander Taylor."

The door flew open and an overly enthusiastic curly-headed researcher strolled in with a plate of food balanced on one hand. It looked to be a hearty meal, a small slab of meat to accompany a bread roll and a baked potato. She paused in her quest toward the captain, dark hazels pinned upon Oliver, looking him up and down before continuing her steady pace towards Rae, eyebrows rising. Oliver couldn't help but offer a wrinkle of his nose in distaste for the overly-analytical look. Section Commander Lorelei Taylor was a fucking creep. She was too hyper and looked at everyone like she was staring straight into their soul. He hated when people looked at him.

To make matters worse, she grinned wide at him. "Good choice, Rae... I brought you something to eat and you're gonna eat it in front of me!"

Eugh, Oliver could've cringed if he wasn't so concerned about keeping a straight face. Though he let the comment go as his attention focused upon the disinterested captain.

"No. I'm not." Rae finished tucking cloth in and flaring out his cape. He tried moving past Lorelei, only for his lip to curl more with irritation when the other Section Commander's hand planted upon his chest, barring him from any escape. Oliver wondered if he should step in… but instead he looked up toward the ceiling absentmindedly.

It wasn't really his business… but he found himself regrettably siding with Lorelei. Losing his entire squad must've crushed him, she was likely only being so pushy because he hadn't been eating. Oliver knew what that was like, so he also knew how after a while of not eating anything even trying to get out of bed was hell. So he offered some form of snarky encouragement under his breath, still averting his gaze as if the whole situation was beneath him.

"You can't expect to train or assess anyone if you're starving yourself."

Rae's lips had peeled back in preparation to spit irritated words back at Lorelei, but when Oliver chimed in, violet eyes snapped over to capture him in the Captain's sights. Slowly, his head tilts to face the new squad member.

"...Did you just team up on me?"

Oliver stared back with slightly widened eyes, barely moving from his spot pinned under the captain's withering gaze… wait. Did he look amused, or was Oliver imagining that? What the fuck?

There was absolutely no time to process that look because Section Commander Taylor suddenly wheeled around on one foot to hook an arm harshly around Oliver's neck, pressing her cheek to his with a squeal of delight. Repulsion seized Oliver's very being as the iron tight grip and invasion of personal space arrived so suddenly.

"You heard him, Rae! Eat up!" She clung like a fucking infant.

Rae Ackerman just stood there like a useless moron, one brow raised and one lowered, his lips pinned down while he watched the assault on Oliver.

"Sure, Lori. I'll eat it." He replied in an all too relaxed manner.

Meanwhile, the short-statured Scout recoiled with disgust, prying at Lorelei's all too tight fingers with one hand, shoving at her face with the other. What kind of unprofessional, creepy ass bullshit -

"Get the fuck off of me!" He snarled, watching with disturbed astonishment as she finally let go, cackling wildly while stumbling backward as Rae snatched the plate from her flailing hand. With his other hand, the Captain gripped Oliver's shoulder and gently lead him toward the door past Lorelei.

"I like him! He's got drive! GOOD CHOICE RAE!"

The duo rushed past the still hollering Section Commander and Oliver glanced over his shoulder to shoot a nasty scowl her way. She didn't even look the slightest bit put off.. which nearly stunned the ill-tempered Scout. What the hell?

He noticed that Ackerman on the other hand didn't even look back at Lorelei, not once. The plate was still in one hand and the other had fallen off of Oliver's shoulder to end up shoved in his pocket as they fled down the hall, taking a turn outside.

Finally, they were out of Lori's bat-shit crazy line of sight. As soon as the fresh, rain-soaked air brushed over their faces, the plate was held out right in front of Oliver. He blinked down at it with furrowed brows.

"Eat this."

Soft composure, still beyond exhausted, but just being outside had somehow visibly lifted some small weight from the captain's shoulders. He maintained their pace toward the forest, where Oliver assumed this extensive assessment would take place. But now there was a plate of food in his face. Food that the captain was supposed to be eating. What should he do in this sort of situation? Maybe he should listen to the rising annoyance in his stomach.

"Fuck no, you eat it."

He scrunched his nose, side-eyeing the Ackerman with a bitter frown. Was he really not going to eat that? He got being upset and all, but even Oliver knew that not eating for a while was a bad call.

"That's an order."

The plate remained held out in front of Oliver, and the captain's arm stayed rigid to prevent the new elite from escaping forth. Olive's gaze found Rae's own and there was the subtlest gleam of smug amusement, something so quiet it was barely noticeable.

Oh this asshole.

He was clearly having fun dangling his power over Oliver's head. Fuck that. Oliver ducked his head to slip underneath the plate and it was rather easy considering the 6 foot tall Captain had little more than six inches on the Scout. But before he could make a full escape, he felt two fingers hook under the back of his collar and drag him backwards, prompting another vicious scowl from Oliver as the plate was pressed against his chest. He twisted out of the hold to whip around and glare upwards to meet half-lidded violets.

"Would you really waste food while we're in the midst of a famine?"

Was he for real?

"My squad will eat. Understood?"

Under-fucking-stood? Oliver felt heat rising to his cheeks as ran his tongue along the front of his teeth in annoyance, finally tsking quietly as he continued to stare, eyes narrowed into his own dangerous glare.

"And what about my Captain?"

Rae fell silent, staring down at Oliver with a hooded gaze before pivoting lightly to walk past him with an infuriatingly relaxed posture. He was set in a pace toward the stables, and Oliver had no choice but to trail after him in all his bitter, angsty glory. The captain just kept talking, as if nothing had even happened, as if the Scout hadn't even asked him a direct, challenging question. Oliver could've screamed.

"You'll show me your ODM gear skills when we get to the trees, we'll have several tests to run."

Oliver remained silent with grit teeth, watching as the Ackerman brushed down his horse, rather slowly. He assumed that he might be giving him time to eat the food on the plate, but he stubbornly refused to do so. That was, until he grabbed the small piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth angrily, cheeks puffed out as he chewed angrily, eventually setting the plate down with a loud 'clang' on the floor beside his own horse, Solnyshka. Getting his own gear set up and his horse situated, it wasn't long before Oliver was on horseback beside Rae, riding steadily toward the forest.

But he was still silently seething, glaring daggers at the back of the Captain's head. He didn't know why he felt so utterly pissed off by the fact that he had so flippantly ignored taking care of himself. He wanted to give the Ackerman a break considering all he went through, but in his mind, that was exactly why he shouldn't. Maybe he just needed a push to get out of his head or something. Not that Oliver was capable of doing that, hell no. He just hoped the Section Commander would keep pestering him until he decided to take care of himself. That or force-feed him. She'd probably do that too.

"Give me your lead. I'll tie your horse. I want you to check that your equipment is working, then warm up."

Oliver blinked, his glare slipping away when the Captain called orders over his shoulder. He gave a curt nod in acknowledgement, deciding to let his lingering frustration go for now as he pulled Nyshka to the side carefully, sliding off the saddle and looking down to check over his gear first. He paced toward the forest, eyeing some of the higher branches to get a feel for where he'd want to warm up, but he couldn't help but feel just a little distracted. This was a lot different than what he was used to.

If things kept up like they were then… shit. He was really in for it.