Note: Spoilers ahead! Probably. Each chapter will be preceded by a note saying what type of spoilers, if any, there are. The first chapter takes place entirely behind the scenes and concerns an event mentioned in S4E1, the lost ships. Really, the only spoiler in this chapter is the fact that this fic's POV character exists. Most of this fic will take place behind the scenes and I'll try to limit spoilers in it whenever I can.
The sound of the waves lapping against the hull below me is almost hypnotic as I drink my coffee. Normally, I find the sound relaxing. Normally. Like how normally I'm glad the draft board sent me to the navy as a marine, where I guard ships and occasionally assault beaches, instead of the army, where I'd spend my days cowering in a trench and waiting for artillery to rain hell on me. Tonight, I'd rather face the artillery.
"Men are ready, Sarge," a gruff voice informs me.
"Thanks, Klaus," I reply to my Corporal before I gulp down the rest of the coffee and tuck the tin mess cup back into my rucksack.
Turning, I see the Captain approach. He's one of the better officers I've served under, so I give him a sharp salute, which he returns.
"Good luck, Niccolo," he tells me while offering a handshake.
"Thank you, Captain ," I state while accepting his firm handshake. He's not bad for a Marleyian. Not like my last Captain, who treated conscripts like we were damn devils instead of actual people. I sling my ruck over a shoulder and make my way to the longboat where the rest of the unlucky bastards in 4th squad are waiting. Wonder if any of them blame me for drawing the short straw this morning?
A quick glance around shows me everything is in place, so I drop my ruck next to my waiting anti-titan rifle and nod to the pair of seamen standing by the winch. They nod back and lower us into the abyss. As we drop, I take one last drag from what may be my last cigarette and flick the butt into the waves.
We've already discussed the duties of the advance party thoroughly, so there's no need for orders when we touch down on the inky black water. Four of the men unship oars and begin rowing towards our target.
It's barely a silhouette under a waning half moon, but that's enough to make my blood run cold. Paradis. The island of the damned. The filthy subhuman devils who've been threatening the rest of the world with death under titanic feet for over a century. I'm sure the rest of the men share my fear, but none show it. We all have family back home and know this is the first strike in the operation that will end the threat hanging over their heads.
As we close in, I lift my binoculars and begin scanning the beach for targets. If all goes well, we'll clear the landing site of titans while they sleep, allowing the captain to make an unopposed landing. And then other titans will probably eat us later in the day. What a shit assignment.
Nothing yet. I pause my search a moment to make sure Diego and Lucille have remembered to use their issued binoculars. Both are busily scanning the shoreline as they should, so I resume my task as we draw closer. Strange. I thought there'd be at least a couple of the big bastards sleeping on the beach but haven't seen a single one by time the prow hits sand. I catch Diego and Lucille's eyes and they both shake their head.
"Guido, send the signal," I whisper. He lights our semaphore lantern and flashes a brief message back to the ship. A minute later, I see the acknowledgement flashed back.
"Right, let's go," I order.
We pull the boat further up the beach, leaving our life vests in it, then split up as planned. Klaus has also been issued an anti-titan rifle, we each take three riflemen and begin searching the beach. "This is creepy, Sergeant ," Enzo remarks from beside me. "Where the fuck are they?" He's right. The weather is clear and the moon gives us plenty of light to search by.
"Maybe they went to their vacation home," Olga jokes from my other side. She always makes bad jokes when she gets nervous.
"Both of you, cut the chatter." It doesn't take us long to survey our half of the beach and meet back with Klaus's team. "Anything?" I whisper to him.
"Not a damn thing."
Shit. I wave Guido forward. "Tell them, 'beach clear, moving to forest.'" He nods and gets to work. "Lanterns," I call out quietly. Enzo and Andre quickly light the special night lanterns. Wouldn't do to trip over a titan. The thick red glass in the hood casts a ruddy beam that spares our night vision. We move forward in a loose line once both are lit, close enough to maintain visual contact with each other around the thick trees.
Still nothing. My spine feels like ice and I can't shake the feeling something is wrong. I really wish I was charging up a beach at mid east entrenchments right now. The creeping dread I feel as we advance through the trees is even eclipsing the terror I've felt from facing machine gun fire.
Suddenly, there is a soft thump from my right, followed by a sound like something running through the underbrush and a strange sound I can't place my finger on. "Squad halt. Right lantern to three o'clock," I order quietly.
"Sergeant," Enzo calls back, "Guido's gone."
"Rally on Enzo. What do you mean, gone?" I ask while the squad gathers around him.
"He was standing right there and something took him." Under the red light, the trail of damaged underbrush looks like it's coated in blood.
"Then we find it and kill it. Keep that light ahead of me." My hands would be shaking if I wasn't gripping my rifle so tight, looking over the sights for a nape to blow a hole through. Enzo walks with me on my left, Diego on my right, and I can hear Klaus quietly organizing the rest. Then I hear the noise again, from behind, followed by a rapidly receding scream.
"Shit!" Klaus spits. "It took Lucille!"
"Did you see it?" I ask.
"Yeah, Sarge. Looked like a person, but didn't move like one. Too fast, almost like it was flying."
Ah, hell. Those things aren't supposed to be this far from the walls. "It's the devils," Enzo whispers, coming to the same conclusion.
The strange noise, almost like a giant zipper, comes from above this time, from multiple directions. Circling our position. "They're in the fucking trees!" Andre yells, sounding on the verge of panic.
"Calm, eyes up, squad!" I order as I lower my rifle and draw my pistol. What I wouldn't give for a mortar and a few parachute flares right now. Or at least a machine pistol or shotgun. "We're withdrawing to the beach, at a walk." If we run, we panic, and that will guarantee nobody will be able to warn the Captain. "Drop your rucks and go."
The slow pace of the retreat wears on my nerves as I fight the impulse to break and run. And then I hear it, a zipper coming towards us. "Two o'clock high, five rounds rapid!" I shout and then I hear nothing but booming reports as what's left of the squad unloads their weapons.
"Klaus and Andre are gone," Enzo morosely reports as we begin to reload. Did we just shoot at a distraction?
"The devils must not be very hungry," Olga jokes, "they only take small bites."
A surprised laugh bursts from the trees behind us, followed by a feminine voice that says, "Shut up, dummy!"
I'm about to order the squad to turn and fire when another female voice directly ahead of us announces, "Over here!" The squad needs no prompting to open fire on the nearer target. We apparently miss, as a cackling laugh retreats upward.
"The fuck was that, shitty glasses?" a male voice demands angrily from the same area.
"Hey Olga, who'd have thought devils shared your shitty sense of humor?" Enzo asks as he reloads again.
"Why you think it's so shitty?" Diego adds, drawing a gallows laugh from the trio.
I drop the anti-titan rifle, useless against these targets. "Enzo, hand me the lantern. Fix bayonets," I order. "We're almost back to the treeline. Close ranks." This is even worse than the times the ships I was on were sunk, when I had to watch the sharks take everyone who wasn't fast enough to get in a lifeboat. We're all in the water now and the sharks are circling.
I can see the beach now and the trees have thinned enough for moonlight to penetrate them when two devils swoop in. We try to shoot them, but they dodge at insane, inhuman speeds. All I even see of them are spinning blurs of black hair and green capes. Suddenly there's an impact on my helmet and I'm on the ground, pistol and lantern lost to the underbrush.
"Squad, report," I croak as I push myself to my knees and shake my head to clear it.
"Still, here, Sarge," Diego calls.
"I'm still here too, Sarge," the mocking female voice from earlier calls from the bushes in front of me.
"Fuck you!" I shout as I throw my helmet at the voice. Damn devils are mocking us now. "Diego," I call as I stand and draw the bayonet from my belt. No response. A glance confirms it, my entire squad is gone, without a trace. "Merde," I mutter, and then chuckle despite the terror I feel. Grandmother was so upset when grandfather taught me that part of the old tongue. I wonder if her ghost is about to scold me for it.
I glance at the beach, so temptingly close, and sigh. They want me to run, and then they'll finish me and laugh about it. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. I will refuse to entertain the filthy devils, and then I meet my grandparents again. "What are you waiting for?!" I demand, arms held wide, bayonet gleaming in the moonlight. "I'm right here! Come on!" At least let me stab one of them before I go.
"If you insist," the voice from the bush calls. I begin to advance on her position when suddenly, slender arms wrap under my own and around my neck, locking me in place like iron bands.
"Drop the knife," a hard, feminine voice demands, so close I can feel her breath on my ear.
"Fuck you, devil," I reply, hoping that I don't piss myself. I try to kick her, but she blocks it with a kick of her own to the back of my knee and pins my leg down. Her only reply is to tighten her grip. As my vision begins to fade, I'm suddenly oddly aware of the pair of breasts pressed against my back. What a strange thing to notice while dying…
After what seems like forever, my vision comes back. Damn she-devil squeezed my neck until I couldn't grip my bayonet anymore. I try not to tremble, but fail as the realization that they won't make it quick sets in. "Why don't you finish me?"
A tall woman who is oddly wearing a pair of goggles over an eyepatch steps out of the bushes ahead of me, flanked by a short man with eyes that remind me of a shark's. "Oh, we aren't here to kill you, Mr. Sarge." I notice she holds my helmet in her hands and is idly toying with it. Suddenly, strong hands twist my arms behind my back and I feel rough rope wrapping around my wrists. "We just want you to come back to camp with us and have a conversation." Shit. The devils are going to torture me before they eat me.
Note: As always, feedback is welcome. This will be the first time in years I've written either 1st person or romance, so hopefully it still turns out alright.
