Spoiler warning: unless you're a manga reader, be sure to watch episode 68 before reading this.


"We done?" the short devil asks while continuing to give me a cold glare. Looks like he's trying to decide what the most fun way to kill me would be.

"Yeah," the cyclops replies. "You got him?"

A voice from behind me replies, "Yes, Commander," and suddenly I'm tucked under that devil's arm like a damn sack of flour. This makes no damn sense, my arm's bigger than the one wrapped around me, but I'm being held up like I weigh nothing. Then suddenly, the ground rapidly recedes from us and someone screams.

She tells me to be quiet and I realize it's my own scream I hear. I clamp my jaw shut and try not to flinch too bad when branches whip past my face.

I wonder if she's going to smash me against a tree, or simply drop me. Or maybe the devils enjoy fear. She keeps coming close to them, swerving around at the last moment, and I feel my stomach heave in a way it hasn't since I was a cadet on my first training at sea. It's almost like sailing through a bad storm, but everything moves so much faster. "Slow-" Before I can say another word, my dinner pours out, raining down on the branches below.

When I finish retching, I realize we've stopped moving. The crazy devil is somehow standing on the side of a tree trunk, still holding me up with one arm. I wonder if all of the island devils have this inhuman strength?

"Finished?" Her voice isn't as hard now as when she was demanding my bayonet.

"Got nothing left," I groan. She wipes my face with a handkerchief, then drops it into the darkness the moonlight doesn't reach below us. Guess even devils don't want to haul around the stink of vomit with them.

"Here." She holds an odd-shaped canteen in front of my face. "It's water, rinse your mouth." I nod and open my mouth, not much I can do with my hands still tied between my back. As I swish the water around my mouth, I wonder how pathetic I must look right now, to gain the pity of an island devil. That's just sad. And I didn't even think they could feel pity.

I spit and she offers the canteen again. As I swallow a mouthful of water, it occurs to me that I'm probably drinking after an Island devil. Hopefully I don't get sick from her island germs, but at least my throat isn't burning anymore. I can still smell it faintly, must've gotten some on my shirt. "It's only a little further now. Are you ready to move?"

Why does this frightening woman care if I'm ready? "If you're not gonna finish me off here, could you maybe go slower?" Her response is to start moving, but not so fast as before. Probably afraid I'll puke again and get it all over her. "Hey. Thanks." I'm no devil, so I should at least show some decorum. Even though she's probably going to kill me soon.

Can devils understand gratitude? I'm wondering if she even recognized that word when she speaks again. "You're welcome." Huh. Guess they know at least the forms to follow.

Since watching the trees worked out so poorly earlier, I fix my eyes on what I can see of the strange flying contraption strapped to her. A thin cable keeps shooting out of a box on her waist and retracting. Can't tell what powers it, but the zipper sound is coming from somewhere behind us. Doesn't sound like any kind or motor I've ever heard, and I can't smell any exhaust. So many straps on her, must be such a pain in the ass to deal with. And why are those bulky boxes strapped to her thighs? Do all of those leg movements help steer? Only devils would invent something so bizarre.

After what seems like forever, I finally have my boots on the ground. I'd sink down in relief if a hand wasn't clamped on my arm like a vise, holding me upright. Looking up, I see three male devils standing around us. "We were about to go looking for you," the blonde one says.

"I had to stop for a minute because he threw up," my captor explains.

A devil with close-cropped hair asks, "In midair? Glad I wasn't following behind you two."

"Yeah," she confirms, "it's all over my right boot, too." Well, at least I hit a devil with something tonight. The other devils give off various disgusted sounding noises. Sympathy?

"Oi," I hear from behind as my other arm is roughly seized by a larger hand that squeezes just as tight. "Go clean yourself up, I've got him."

"Thank you, Captain," the female replies, finally releasing me.

"This way, puke boy," the other commands as he roughly shoves me forward by his grip on my arm. Why the hell are these island devils so damn strong? He continues to manhandle me, apparently effortlessly, and I find myself exiting the forest behind a small series of entrenchments that face a rocky plain. I can see the beach my squad landed on some distance to the side, but the devils seem to be expecting an attack from another direction.

The cyclops is waiting for us. "Hello again, Mr. Sarge, and welcome to our island-"

"Sergeant is my title," I interrupt.

The one behind me squeezes my arm harder and growls, "Watch your fucking manners, puke boy." I believe he could rip that arm off if he wanted. I try not to shudder at the idea.

The one-eyed devil blinks. "Did I miss something? Puke boy?"

"This little shit puked all over my cousin's boots. Surprised he hasn't pissed himself yet."

"Levi, be nice! I'm sure he didn't mean to, and Sergeant Sarge here is our guest, you don't need to squeeze his arm off like that."

"Tch, fine," he concedes as he released me As he steps away, I see that he's the short man from before, still giving me that cold glare.

"Now, where were we, Sergeant Sarge? Mind if I call you Sarge?"

"Sarge is the short form of Sergeant," I correct her. Are island devils just dumb, or is their military structure really that much different? We speak the same language, they should have similar concepts.

"Ah, guess that was silly to assume your squad was calling your name." She looks at me expectantly, obviously expecting a more accurate introduction.

"Sergeant Niccolo Viglione, 658921, Marley Imperial Marines, and that's all I'm obliged to say when captured."

"I think he just politely told you to fuck off, shitty glasses," the short one remarks.

"Eh? Well, I'm Commander Hange, Zoe, without any numbers in my name, from the Survey Corps. Why do you have numbers in your name? And why are you obliged to say that?"

"Rank, name, serial number, and service branch. That's all I'm supposed to say if captured." I'd like to say that's all I will say, but I'm just a conscript, in the third lowest rank. I've never had any training on resisting interrogation and have no illusion that they won't break me when they get serious about it.

"Cereal, huh? Is that something about what rations you get?" This devil is just full of questions.

Is this how interrogations work? They haven't asked a single thing important yet. "It's just some dumb thing the pencil pushers use to keep track of us."

"Ah. Here, have a seat, we could be waiting a while." She helps me down to a seated position on the ground, then takes a seat across from me. The short devil, Levi, sneers and leans against the entrenchment behind her. "Now, what's a pencil pusher?"

I sigh. No end in sight. "That's just what we call worthless soldiers who sit behind desks while the rest of us go fight."

The short one nods. "We call those MPs." He nods again, his glare temporarily displaced by a thoughtful expression.

"See, Levi!" the taller one proclaims. "You thought this would be a waste of time, and you've already learned a new insult! Are you thirsty, Niccolo? You don't mind if I call you Niccolo, right?" These damn devils make no sense.


After what seems an eternity of mostly inane questions, a devil runs up and gives a strange salute in the direction of my interrogator. "Commander! They're making a move."

"Time to greet the rest of our guests! Come along, Niccolo." She stands and helps me to my feet, then leads me to the earthworks and points to the beach. "You ready to greet your friends?" My skepticism must be obvious, as she assures me, "Just watch!"

And so I watch, as the ship sits there. Am I supposed to watch the next two squads go ashore and meet the same fate as my own?

Suddenly the ship is moving. Rising. Fuck, their pet titan was waiting in the water. Now I see why the entrenchments face an empty plain, it's carrying the whole damn ship to the prepared kill zone in front of us.

At least the ship should be useless to the devils, there's no chance the keel didn't break when the titan threw it down on the ground. And then the one-eyed lunatic jumps onto a rock and spouts a ridiculous greeting, before inviting them to tea, of all things. The short one has me in that vise grip again, this time with something sharp pressed against my back, and shoves me forward to where the tall one wraps her filthy arms around me as she continues to prattle on. I see. They think I'll make a good shield for them.

"Captain!" I shout as loud as I can. "Don't mind me! Just shoot these damned devils!" She actually seems shocked that I'm not playing along, while the short one just seems amused. "Captain!" Don't just talk pull the trigger! She's reminding him of the titan standing right behind him, but that doesn't matter. We're dead men in any case. She finally realizes she's in danger and takes cover as the captain rushes forward and takes aim with his rifle, but the short one is still holding me up. Shoot me, and we can at least destroy the devil standing behind me.

Oh, what the fuck. What the fuck. There's devil-loving mutineers on board and now the best officer I ever served under is laying on the deck with a hole in his head. That damn weird tall woman just shot him without warning. What the fuck. How could we not notice damn devil lovers among us?

I'm honestly not sure how long I stand there, shocked, before the short devil pulls me aside; I follow numbly. "You've got balls, puke boy," he remarks, sounding bored, before he raises his voice "Oi! I need a volunteer to take puke boy here to the camp!"

"I'll take care of it, sir," a long faced male devil states as he approaches us. I'm led back into the forest, where we find a line of horses tied out. The taller devil mounts one and suddenly I'm being lifted up again, one hand grabbing the back of my belt and the other my shirt, and I find myself draped across the seated devil's knees. "Don't worry," he announces with a laugh, "this is as awkward for me as it is for you."

"Small comfort," I mutter. "Why not just end me and get it over with?" as the short one walks away from us.

"Maybe that's how they do it in Marley," the devil whose lap I've been thrown across declares, "but we aren't about to start killing prisoners." Yeah, not until after they've finished torturing me, more like. "You ever ride a horse before?"

"Never."

"Keep your teeth together if you don't want to bite your tongue," the long faced devil instructs me as he grabs the back of my shirt and starts his horse moving. "I won't let you fall; just relax and try to go with the rhythm, I won't go too fast." Once again, I get to choose between passing trees and a mysterious box on a leg to look at. At least I can see the ground now.

"Here's the last one from the first group," the devil transporting me informs someone when we finally stop. "You ok?". I sigh and chuckle a bit at the absurdity of it all, being delivered in good condition just so they can torture me. The devil joins in, sounding oddly rueful. "Yeah, you've all had a rough night, guess that's an odd thing to ask." Two pairs of hands take hold of me and lift me from the horse, then roughly search me before untying me and leading me to a tent and shoving me in.

"Sarge!" Enzo notices me first, and then the whole squad is surrounding me, pressing me with questions. I give them the bad news and ask what I've missed. Dinner, firstly, but they saved me one of the weird little hard bread bars and a canteen of water. Tastes like nothing, is this normal devil food? None of them have been tortured yet, at least that's some good news. I doubt it'll last. And I'm informed I can ask the guard outside if I need to go take a piss or anything.

I check my pockets after eating. The devils left my cigarettes, but took my lighter. Cruel bastards. I sit for a bit before a thought occurs to me. Time to see what 'or anything' includes. "Be right back," I announce before pushing aside the tent flap and stepping out.

"Need something?" a bored looking devil asks as the tent flap falls closed behind me.

"Yeah, can I bum a light off you?" I hold up my cigarettes to make sure there's no confusion.

"Sorry, can't help you," he replies. Shit. He then points and says, "Go ask for Samuel. Dark haired guy, smokes. He'll have one for you." I nod and head the direction he pointed.

The devils don't seem too worried about me escaping. Where the hell would I go, with no idea where this camp even is? Eventually, after a few other devils challenge me and then point the way, I spot a glowing cherry. The dark haired devil puffing at it must be Samuel.

"Hey," I call as I step forward and pull out a cigarette, "Got a light?"

"Sure," he replies as he pulls out a book of matches. Do they not have lighters here? I'm in no position to be picky, so I step forward as he strikes a match off a thumbnail and holds it out for me.

Ah. That's better. Not much, my night's still gone to absolute shit and they'll probably start serious interrogation tomorrow, but at least my nerves aren't so bad as they were a minute ago. I let out that first puff and nod. "Appreciate it."

"Not a problem. Name's Samuel." He holds out a hand.

Ah what the hell, I've already been manhandled by a half dozen devils and this one just did me a big favor. I shake his hand. "Niccolo."

"Didn't even know Marleyians had cigarettes."

"Yeah, they give us packs with our rations."

"Seriously?" I nod. "Damn, and here I am paying for my own."

"Sounds like my squad isn't getting any more when we run out," I remark. Probably a silly thing to worry about in our situation.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, but no promises my Squad Leader will agree. And here, take one of these back to your squad," he says, handing me a pack of matches. Looks like I found the one decent Eldian in the island. I guess that one that cleaned me up and gave me water wasn't too bad either, but the rest can go straight to hell as far as I'm concerned. Samuel and I shoot the shit for a few minutes more and then he gives me an island cigarette to try before we part ways.


The squads reaction when I walk back into the tent with that island cigarette burning in my mouth is almost as excited as the last time I walked in. It's just a tiny bit of good news, but I knew they'd latch onto any they can get, so they all line up to have one lit, only arguing a bit over who goes first. I finish mine, then curl up in one of the blankets we were given to attempt to get a little rest in what's left of the night.


"Hey, Sarge." I must have finally fallen asleep, somehow, Klaus is shaking me awake. "They want you, outside the tent." They? I exit the tent to find that weird tall woman waiting for me, flanked by two guards.

"Good morning, Niccolo. I have work for you." What the hell do they want now?


Note: In case anyone's wondering why I gave Niccolo an Italian surname, when he was swearing in French last chapter, each comes from a different set of grandparents, from two different regions conquered by Marley. It's not a terribly important detail, but will come up later. Probably. And why is he a smoker? Soldiers of that era generally were, since nobody knew about lung cancer yet, and it gave an opening for an 'island devil' to surprise him with kindness, chipping away a little from all that anti-Eldian prejudice.