II: Joshua

They called them skirmishes. Robbery was too damning of a word to categorize what they were doing.

Reality changed, and Joshua was aware of this more than anyone. Not that much had changed for him. The slums of Trost were always difficult, but the sun kissed wall that kept them separated from Titans was a constant reminder of how life could always get worse, like Shiganshina. Joshua knew of that, so did anyone who had to deal with the embarrassment of living in narrow alleys between markets and neighborhoods. Life could always get worse. So much worse.

When reality struck Trost, it wasn't a reminder to Joshua more so than it was for those who had roofs over their heads. No, it didn't matter how well you knew Trost. It didn't matter how honorable your profession. What mattered in Trost was how much you had in your pocket, and how far your name resonated between streets and districts.

Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise when Trost fell apart. The once populated and active streets of Trost were dusty exhibits of what once was. The once proud homes and stores of Trost were now smeared with dirt and pillaged of anything valuable, if they were even standing. Made sense though, when the Garrison regiment abandons you, who's to watch over you? When those enforcing the law leave, what happens to the law?

The intersection of Street 5 and Avenue 57 was a dilapidated, dusty wasteland of homes and corpses, an aftermath of the battle of Trost, left to rot as an aftermath. Amongst the blood, rubble, and corpses, Joshua found a corner for himself where a house had stood, and managed to cave out an eight by eight residence. He moved stones accordingly. He caked the blood with dirt accordingly. He tossed limbs or moved corpses accordingly. Before long, it was a luxury residence. He even managed to find a mattress. So he had somewhere back home he could go to. And he had a blade to call his own. Coming back home was always an experience. He usually needed to either flash a knife or unsheathe it.

"Oy,"

Joshua looked over at the man laying on his bed. A burly figure with short hair with a dented steel pipe resting beside him.

The man looked back at Joshua in response. Joshua sized him up.

The moonlight shined onto the man's figure. His dark, thick hair was held back with a dark headband. His arms were clearly defined: shoulder, triceps, biceps. The distance between his interlocked hands and the steel pipe were no less than a forearm away. His shoulders broadened his figure to the point where Joshua questioned whether he could even fit on the mattress. He wore a slightly undersized shirt caked with sweat and dirt with the type of fit that he once could manage. It rested in stark contrast to the toned arms. His breasts sagged lightly, and his sour stench made him more unbecoming than the patches of sweat and dirt that stained the shirt. His boots still remained on his feet, and their stinging sour wafted over to the entrance. It was different from that of concrete and rot, but unwelcome nonetheless. He continued to stare at Joshua. He had been waiting.

"Do I know you?" Joshua asked.

"No."

Joshua squinted his eyes and tilted his head slightly. He placed both of his hands in his back pockets.

"Hands where I can see them," the man said.

Joshua scoffed and paused, before raising his hands. The knife he picked out his back pocket slipped from his right hand into the jacket sleeve.

"Tough guy," he started, dropping his hands by his side. He clutched the ends of his sleeves with the tip of his fingers curled into fists. The knife rested on the end of Joshua's right middle finger.

"You're going to have to find somewhere else to stay, kid," the man said, unmoved from his initial position.

Joshua scoffed.

"Rude. I'm 22."

"You sure don't seem like it."

"I'm blushing."

The burly man scoffed and shifted his body, taking his rancid boots off the bed on the ground. Joshua's eyes followed from the boots to the pipe, which now remained a finger distance away from the still pretentiously interwoven hands. Joshua remained by the entrance.

"If you're as smart as that mouth of yours, you'll know it's of your best interest to go."

Joshua crossed his arms with a smirk.

"And why's that?"

The man stood up, snatching the pipe as he walked towards Joshua.

"I think you're capable enough to put two and two together—"

Joshua quickly uncrossed his arms, his left arm sliding across his right, and unsheathed the small knife through his jacket. He launched himself forward and thrust the knife upward into the man's breast. The man shrieked and stumbled before falling on his back. His right hand went straight for Joshua's neck, but as he felt the man's beefy fingers dig into his throat, Joshua make quick stabs with his knife, reopening the wound that had been pouring blood on the floor. The man shrieked again, but was curtailed by a gargling of blood that jut out of his mouth and coat his teeth and trickled down his face. Joshua took advantage by shrugging off the grip. He took his free hand and brought it towards the man's neck, muffling his throat as he writhed in feeble attempts to breathe while carving the man's chest before stopping below the breast and shoving his blade upward until the hilt stopped him.

The gargled screaming died away. Joshua felt the body limp lifelessly and picked himself up, looking down at yet another victim, while he cleaned his blade with the sleeve of his ruined jacket. He'd be damned risking his blade smelling remotely like this man. He silently took in a deep breath and sheathed the knife, placing it back into his back pocket.

No point in letting him finish his big talk and get ready for battle, or whatever.

Joshua squatted and went into the man's pockets. The left one was empty, but the right one sunk with a sack of coins. He smirked, his heartbeat quickening, as he snatched the purse and brought it out to observe. He stared at the bag, which remained in pristine condition, knotted neatly at the top, the leather a rich deep brown. He observed the bag from all sides, before finding the face of it: Kampfer's Steel.

Kampfer's Steel still stood? Joshua rolled his eyes. Of course it did. The connection between the military and the smithy was almost too obvious. Of course it stood. Of course it still had money.

Joshua pocketed the bag before grabbing the man by the feet and dragging his body to the entrance of his dilapidated home. Blood stained the dirt floor as Joshua hauled the body through the curtained exit. He brought the body out the exit and paused, staring at the man's boots, before looking at his, and finally pulling the boots off the carcass. He held his breath as he did so. He got up, tossed the boots into his home, and dragged the body from the entrance until it laid besides a bed of rubble, far enough so that the carcass wouldn't stink up his residence much. He stood back to observe the scene before grimacing. He walked towards the body again and took some of the larger stones to place in front of the body. He took deep huffs and tried to hold his breath as he did so. The feet smelled unbearable now that they were naked. He placed some of the stones on top of the man's chest and his head after he finished covering up his body. He stood back again to observe the scene. It was conspicuous, but it beat having to see him ever again.

He walked back towards his home and took off his jacket. The night had gotten more humid. He looked over to his left, and noticed the start of a fire. He smiled, tossed his jacket into his home, and jaunted across the street to another make-shift home.

Rusty tossed a small knife and a smooth stone aside as he leaned back against a splintered wooden pillar as he stared at the fire. He ran his fingers through his grey hair, which permanently remained combed over with sweat and dirt. His eyes held a hue just as strange as the color of his thick hair. They were sharp, constantly providing a look of focus that matched his character. They thinned out at the end with a slight angular curve distinctly different from the westerners of Trost. He donned a grey sleeveless shirt, adorning some rips and tears, which only supported his figure of raw strength. His outstretched leg rested in front of the fire, his boots placed by the end of the wall to his left. He was fortunate enough to own a rug, which made his place a fine location, a location only Joshua had had the honor to visit. Not that he had many visitors. Besides Rusty's outstretched leg rested a hatchet that had darkened marks of usage emerging from the grip and shoulder. Its head was smeared with blood. He laid his left arm on his left bended knee as he sat, waiting for the fire to start. Within the fireplace laid a ripped fabric drenched in red.

Joshua tapped twice on the wooden structure that somehow held as an entrance to Rusty's home. He held his forearm to his nose as he did so. The heads resting on pikes besides the entrance truly began to smell. Rusty looked to his left to see Joshua, and smiled as he stared back at the fire.

"I was wondering if you knew that guy," Rusty started, tilting his head towards the direction of Joshua's home.

Joshua scoffed.

"You're a bastard."

"So I take it you didn't."

Joshua rolled his eyes as he made his way across from Rusty, before sitting down and leaning against the rubble that somewhat enclosed this space.

"Enough about that," Joshua rolled his eyes. "Do you have any food?" he asked, looking around the enclosed hole.

"Do you have anything to offer this time?"

"Actually—yes!" Joshua replied without skipping a beat. He shifted his weight and went into his right pocket, before tossing the bag to Rusty. It jingled as it snatched it out the air and he stared at the purse. He observed the coin purse until his eye caught the etched mark: Kampfer's Steel.

"Kampfer's Steel?" Rusty read out loud.

Joshua shrugged as he stuck his hand out, anticipating a trade.

Rusty paused before grabbing a half a loaf of bread besides him, tearing it in half, and tossing it over to Joshua. Joshua nodded in approval as he observed the loaf. Not a single piece of mold in sight.

"You found bread," Joshua started as he ripped off a piece and tossed it in his mouth.

"Just like you found gold," Rusty responded quickly. "Kampfer's Steel still stands, huh?"

Joshua shrugged, ripping off another chunk of bread.

"Beats me," Joshua replied.

Rusty nodded in approval, before biting into his loaf. His focused remained on the leather coin purse. It's condition and quality stood in stark contrast to everything around it.

"Let's pay them a visit tomorrow," Rusty said, glancing over at Joshua.

Joshua smiled as he nodded accordingly.

"Yes; let's."