Kwan, Friedrich, and Archibald waited outside kicking rocks while the FLU soldiers went around the terrorists' camp in search of any document, computer data, or any other information about their operations, but resorted to loafing around when they couldn't find anything. Marama fiddled with the radio trying to catch any waves that would divulge any sensitive information, to no avail. As soon as they had killed the last enemy in this base, it had somewhat ceased to exist.
It was 08:33 when they heard the helicopters flying from Socotra. Archibald did not bother to move a single muscle and Kwan tried to galvanize him with light kicks while Friedrich obsequiously followed the FLU soldiers. They amassed near (yet far enough from) the landing helicopters, and a corridor was formed to let Xiomara storm through, who had jumped out of the helicopter two meters before it touched ground. She made her way towards the main gates of the camp and froze as she gazed at the countless lifeless bodies. Grief overcame her but she remained stoic about it. Kwan shortly joined her and Friedrich followed suite. They did not say anything. What could be said? Was this truly what they fought for? Was there anything to celebrate? Ridgeway stepped out of the helicopter and was first welcomed by an ovation of salutes from all the FLU soldiers. He saluted them back. Marama walked up to him and was about to fill him in, but he held his hand up to her.
"Hold that thought, captain."
He walked away, leaving her stunned and slightly offended. When he neared the main gates, Archibald had turned the corner and was walking towards the other wielders. Seeing what they saw, the commander did not find it in his heart to congratulate them. He looked at Archibald who stared at the ground with unfocused eyes.
"Phase Two was a success," he declared to the four wielders.
Xiomara spun her entire body around and looked at him in disgust.
"You can twist it however you want, Ms. Guevara," he resumed. "But we were sent here on a specific mission, and we fulfilled what was asked of us. That is a success."
"You have got to be shitting me," Xiomara exploded. "This," she pointed at the dead bodies, "is not a success, it's a fucking massacre. And I sure as hell hope I'm not revealing anything you don't already know when I tell you that it won't be the last one. Chairman Davidson is going to send us on more of these missions, and we'll be doing a whole lot more than wiping out a simple camp."
"I understand your concern, and I'll confer with the Chairman and the Commander-in-Chief to negotiate more control on the operations."
"Oh, fuck that! I don't care about who's in charge. I don't work for your Chairman and I don't answer to your President."
"Are you done?" Ridgeway asked sternly.
Xiomara looked shocked, then her face turned sour. "Yeah. I'm done. I'm done with you, and I'm done with the FLU. Soon as we get out of here, I'm going back to Colombia."
She stormed past the commander and away. They all followed her with their eyes and saw her storm past the Texan who just got here and looked at her in confusion and concern.
"Boone," said Ridgeway.
"Commander," the Texan tipped his hat at him.
"Care to tell me why the Armor didn't do its job?"
The Texan sighed. "Well, I…"
"I asked him to stay behind," Archibald intervened.
Ridgeway turned at him with a thunderous look. "On whose authority?"
Archibald shrugged. "My own. You seem to forget that we don't answer to you, Ridgeway."
The commander stepped closer and looked down on him. "You answer to the United States of America, Archibald Achard. My authority is what dictates what you can and can't do, is that clear?"
Archibald straightened his back and stared up at him. "You should really get off your high horses and remember who's the Attack Titan's Wielder."
"Well, maybe I should look into a new inheritor, then."
"Fucking try me, Ridgeway. I'll be halfway across the world by the time you get the paperwork done, somewhere nice and cozy where you'll have to spend years to find me."
Ridgeway was fuming inside, but contained his rage. "We'll have a serious discussion about your liberal interpretation of what it means to be the Attack's Wielder. You're dismissed."
Archibald scoffed and walked away, but couldn't resist one last remark. "Sucks to have picked an orphan, huh? No way to leverage blackmail?"
"Enough!" the commander yelled. "Get out!"
Archibald flipped him off as he turned the corner. Ridgeway clenched his fists as he turned to Kwan. She had stood patiently knowing that he had something to tell her.
"There was a truck headed your way, Archibald told you about it."
"Yeah, it never showed up," she said. "We kept an eye out, but then the Colossal blew up."
"And you didn't bother to follow up?"
She shrugged. "Archie and I agreed that it must've been a fluke, some distraction for anyone that might be watching. It probably didn't have anything on it."
Ridgeway rubbed his eyes in exasperation and sighed deeply, and she did not appreciate that.
"You want me to check it out?" she asked, irate, as she bit her palm deep enough to chew off a considerable amount of flesh and took a few steps. "I can go right now and scour the six-hundred thousand square kilometers of Somalia."
"No, that won't be necessary," Ridgeway said in defeat.
"Right," she said as her hand healed instantly. "I did my job, Commander, don't twist it any other way."
"Yes, yes, understood," he sighed dismissively.
"Good. Am I dismissed?"
"Yes, by God! Please, leave!"
Kwan left. Ridgeway looked around in search of the Texan, but he must've surreptitiously left at some uncertain point. Friedrich was the only wielder left. He stood in silence, looking shyly at his own shoes. Ridgeway looked at him for a beat or two, then left to congregate with the captains.
Xiomara had bummed a cigarette of a random soldier and smoked it as she stared out into the ocean, and Kwan shortly joined her. The Texan looked at the Cart's Wielder with a hint of sorrow, but he had to speak to Archibald first. The Attack's Wielder stood near the opening he had made during the attack, kicking rocks with his hands in his pockets. The Texan walked up to him, took out a cigarillo from his new pack and lit it up.
"Please know that I appreciate you standing up for me, back there," he said sincerely.
Archibald's response could only be interpreted through the stronger kicks he gave to the rocks and pebbles.
"And for what it's worth, I don't agree with how Ridgeway was talking to you."
Archibald gave an ultimate kick to a tennis ball-sized rock and sent it flying against the wall before he turned to face the Texan.
"Cut the bullshit, Ross. And be straight with me. What the fuck was that about?"
The Texan stared blankly at the last spot he saw the rock land, then came back to the moment with a drag of his cigarillo.
"I suppose I owe you this much," he said before a pregnant pause, then inhaled deeply. "I'm old, Achard. The years are catching up to me, and the innumerable transformations I've been through are taking their toll. I'm afraid my next transformation might be my last. I can barely utilize the healing capabilities. I don't want to fight anymore."
That information sank slowly into Archibald's mind, who was staring blankly into the void. "That's why you want to pass the Armor to someone else."
"Right, I can't do this anymore," he looked around for any curious ear. "It might be guilt for what I've done, it might be I've never been compatible with the Armor, or it might be I woke up to the fact that this coalition is not what I thought it would be. I hate that it might be someone else's burden to bear, but I…"
He needn't finish that thought. Archibald looked at him with a frown. "Pick someone you trust, at least."
"I wish, Achard, I really do. But I'm bogged down by so much red tape I might get erythrophobia."
"When?"
The Texan's heart skipped a beat. "As soon as we get home."
Archibald didn't add anything to that, and walked away instead. The Texan looked down as he walked past him, but flinched when he felt something on his chest. He saw Archibald's fist balled up against it, and stared at it.
"It's been real, Ross," said the Attack's Wielder before resuming his walk.
The Texan stood there with emotions growing in his throat. Archibald joined Friedrich. Kwan had done her best to comfort Xiomara. Everyone was miserable, but the commander just finished explaining to the captains what the game plan was once they went back to the US Military base in Yemen, and he walked off to round up the wielders once more. Once he reached the Texan, the others knew that they had to join them, so they did. Archie, Friedrich, Xiomara, and Kwan made it halfway through a conversation the two were having.
"Boone, I'm not going to let this slide, you have to understand that."
"All that'll do is push the timetable up, I don't care what the brass has to say to me anymore."
"That's not fair," the commander protested. "You still have to play ball as long as you have the Armor, this it not—"
"Hold that thought, Commander…"
The Texan interrupted when he saw an FLU soldier running towards them at an alarming speed. The commander turned around and squinted at the arriving soldier.
"What is it?"
The soldier was panting for breath. "S-sir… you have to see this."
The commander and five wielders followed the soldier until some makeshift lookout post made of crates. Another soldier stood guard, looking at the distance through binoculars, and when she saw the commander, she gave them to him.
"They haven't moved since they arrived."
A terrifying line of trucks, tanks, and armored vehicles were lined up behind a wide line of soldiers armed to the teeth standing in formation. The commander looked for a logo, but was quickly blinded by a bright yellow light, forcing him to jerk the binoculars away, then a thunderous clap nearly deafened him. Once they all collected themselves, they looked back at the armed forces in the distance to see that another unit had joined the ranks. A fifteen-meter-tall titan with skin as dark as obsidian towered over the other soldiers, who didn't even flinch at its sudden appearance. On the FLU's side, a bedlam of fear and confusion arose, soldiers gathered their weapons and improvised a defense line.
"Holy mother of god…" uttered the Texan.
"Everyone, stand down!" the commander yelled a little louder due to his ears still readjusting from the lightning strike. He then looked back through the binoculars to see a singular figure wearing colorful clothes walking through the line of soldiers towards the FLU forces. He looked at the Texan. "Figure out what it's all about."
The Texan didn't wait the end of that sentence to pick up a fast pace towards the incoming figure. Kwan followed in a heartbeat, then Xiomara and Archibald joined them, and Friedrich mustered his courage to get his legs moving. All five of them walked in a line until they were a few meters away from the figure. A black man with dreads tied back and a clean high fade wearing a white kanzu, a red, black, green, and yellow top, and blue scarf wrapped around his neck stood before them. They all stood still as the black man carefully studied each and every one of them. The Texan, Kwan, Xiomara, Archibald, and Friedrich understood that this was his turn to make a move, and they waited patiently until he was done. Once his analysis seemed to be complete, he folded his arms and held one hand to his chin.
"Let me guess…" he said pensively. He pointed at the Texan: "You are the Armored Titan's Wielder."
The Texan's brows furrowed.
The black man turned to Friedrich. "You are the Colossal."
Friedrich looked down as his face reddened.
The black man turned to Kwan. "Hm… the Cart, perhaps?"
Kwan had preemptively furrowed her own brows, but one had almost independently raised itself out of curiosity, which made the black man smirk.
But his face turned serious once more as he looked at Xiomara. "Now, this is where I'm stumped…" He thought for a beat or two. "You're the Attack?"
"Unfortunately not, but you narrowed it down to a fifty-fifty. Pretty good for random guessing."
"Ah!" the black man let out in defeat. "I'm glad I'm not a betting man."
"Minister Kazadi-Mbombo, I presume?" the Texan asked.
The man raised his hands. "Please, just called me Matadi, I beg of you. No official titles between us, mister Boone."
The Texan looked over Matadi's shoulder at the titan with obsidian skin. "Are you the Warhammer's Wielder?"
Matadi turned around and looked at how far the Warhammer was. "Well, if I was, then I'd be an excellent wielder, right?"
"The Warhammer's corpse does not decay like other titans," Xiomara interjected. "Its wielder could be walking around freely while it stands still."
Matadi looked at her. "Looks like you did your homework, Ms. Guevara."
"The Jaw is the most effective countermeasure to the Warhammer. Whoever wields it should fear my aspect."
They stared at each other, Matadi in slight amusement, and Xiomara in defiance. He knew she was right, though, so he heeded her words carefully. Now was not the time for conflict, and they all knew it.
"Quite the welcome party you brought with you," the Texan said mistrustfully.
Matadi looked back at his armies. "No…" he turned back to the Texan. "Quite the contrary, in fact. This is more of a farewell party. You've overstayed your welcome in Africa, mister Boone. I understand the reasons behind your presence here, although I do not agree with it. But I have no interest in waging war against America's puppets, so I will kindly ask you to leave, now."
"We need the Warhammer, mister Matadi."
"No, mister Boone. Africa needs the Warhammer. I have no interest in joining your band of terrorists while this continent still heals from the age-old wounds perpetrated by the white man."
"We need to put these grievances in the past—" the Texan pleaded.
"And trigger an atomic blast of scales hitherto unseen?" Matadi asked, throwing a sideways glance at Friedrich. "Mister Boone, your coalition is flawed. While you serve under the star-spangled banner, your goals will always be mired down in imperialistic agendas. The Warhammer stays here."
The Texan struggled to swallow those words, but didn't find the will to push further. He removed his hat and hit it a few times on his leg before putting it back on. "The Soviet Empire will come to your shores. You will need our help."
Matadi scoffed. "I do not hold the Empire close to my heart, but they are not my enemy."
The Texan turned around and stormed back towards the FLU soldiers. Kwan followed shortly with Friedrich. Archibald stayed staring at the Warhammer. Matadi noticed it and turned to face the Titan.
"The jewel of Africa's freedom…" he said.
Archibald snapped out of his daze and left without adding a word. Matadi turned to follow him with his eyes and he noticed Xiomara still stood there, her hands in her pockets. He took a step closer to her.
"I hoped you would understand me, Ms. Guevara."
"You can't stand alone forever."
"I need to protect my homeland while it heals."
She froze at those words, and thought of Colombia. In his unyielding conviction to stand by his own people, he displayed more bravery than she did. She felt as if she had abandoned her own people, convinced that she had done it all for them. She fought alongside the FLU while her own people died. She steeled her resolve and extended a hand to Matadi.
"Good luck, Minister."
He shook her hand, then looked at their grasp in confusion. She broke it off and walked away, and he contemplated her as he put his hands in his pockets. There was something different about her, and it perplexed him. At first, he chalked it off as some inherited paranoia regarding the Jaw's superiority against the Warhammer, but it extended beyond that. In today's day and age, the Titan War is no longer about who controls which Aspect. The political landscape on planet Earth makes this a far more complex issue riddled with coalitions, backroom deals, and age-old conflicts between nations and peoples. She didn't strike him as someone who would be complaisant with political matters, especially not with the United States of America. 'You do not know where you belong…' he thought to himself, but shrugged that though off on the basis that he did not want to assume anything about her. She is the Jaw, after all.
"Assume hostility," he declared to himself as he walked back towards his own troops.
Xiomara joined the other wielders, who all stood next to the commander to report back on the encounter with the Minister. Ridgeway listened intently and sighed heavily.
"The Warhammer is a no-go, Ridgeway," the Texan said sorrowfully.
"This is your coalition, Boone. What do you think the best course of action should be?"
"To leave them alone," Xiomara intervened, causing them all to look at her. She turned to the Texan. "Ross, you heard the Minister: the Warhammer belongs in Africa. This continent has suffered long enough from incessant colonialism and slavery. This is not our call to make, unless you're willing to go to war with them."
"This might be what it would take," the commander answered. "The Warhammer would be an invaluable asset in the Titan War, the Soviet Empire would not withstand its might."
"Is that what we are to you, Ridgeway? Assets?"
"I will not debate philosophy with you Ms. Guevara, not now."
"I'm with her on this one," Archibald joined in. "America is already struggling with the amounts of conflicts around the world, we would spread ourselves too thin if we waged war on Africa. Did you see their forces back there? That's not a newly-trained militia. That's an army. And without the Jaw, we wouldn't stand a chance against the Warhammer."
"Alright, alright, I get it," the commander said. "There's not much more we can do right now. I'll call the Chairman once we make it back to Yemen, and we'll see from there. You're all dismissed."
Archibald signaled Friedrich with a nod of the head to join him, and they walked off. The Texan walked with Kwan towards captain Anderson. Xiomara headed for the beach, but the commander held her back.
"Ms. Guevara, a word, if you please?"
She stopped in her tracks and looked at him in surprise, then turned around and walked diffidently towards him. "Yeah?"
He removed his glasses to wipe them and put them back on in a sigh. "Achard speaks true. We wouldn't be complete without the Jaw. And I'm not talking about it as an asset. I mean you. You're a strong part of the team, you're level-headed and you know what the stakes are. Are you sure about going back to Colombia?"
Xiomara's face dropped in slight sorrow. "I don't know, Ridgeway… with the military getting involved in our operations, I just can't trust orders anymore. I want to keep fighting for this cause, but I keep telling myself that I abandoned my people back home. And the Chairman's threat—"
"Is an empty one," the commander interrupted. "I can't imagine the US giving up on South America, especially the equatorial regions. That theatre is too important to lose over some grudge."
She looked up at him with worry and confusion.
"If you feel like going back to Colombia is the right move," he resumed. "Then I'll make sure to whip up some convenient excuse to send you there."
Her frown dropped, and a smile of comfort and compassion formed on her mouth. "Ridgeway, I…"
"You don't owe me any gratitude, Ms. Guevara. As far as I'm concerned, you're free to go wherever you please. It's like you said: you don't answer to me."
She was stunned for a few seconds, then nodded. "Understood, Commander."
He saluted her. "You're a damn good soldier, Guevara. It's a shame to lose you, but you have to trust your instincts."
She saluted him back. "Yes, sir."
Out in the ocean, a foghorn announced a ship's arrival, and the commander looked over to see their promised ride back to Yemen. Ridgeway gave orders to group everyone up, and round up the equipment. The five wielders joined each other and threw one last glance over at the Warhammer.
"I wonder who its wielder is…" Archibald pondered out loud.