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A guy I knew once taught me that life is really just a big series of gambles, where you never really know how the dice will land. The last time I saw him alive, he also taught me that sometimes, you do know how the dice will land. He taught me that sometimes, no matter how hard you try, there are some things that you just can't change. In his words, "The truth is… sometimes the game is rigged from the start."

- An excerpt from the journal of an Eldian soldier, 850

Greylocke Woods, June 846

40 Kilometers North of Trost District

Skip's breath hitched when he first picked up the sound of far off hoofbeats heading in his direction. 'How the hell did they already find me? I thought I shook them off my trail when I jumped into the river…' The sound of hoofbeats was steadily growing louder. Skip had to make a decision, he could either try to keep running, despite how exhausted he already was, or he could stand and fight. Skip glanced down to the strange firearm in his right hand. A 'revolver' Jaren had called it. Skip had seen nothing like it before, likely owing to the fact that, according to Jaren, it was contraband tech as far as the MPs were concerned. The weapon wasn't light, but it felt natural in his hand. 'Hitting my targets isn't going to be the issue… It's the fact that there's more than six of them, and I only have six shots.' As the sound of hoofbeats continued to grow closer, Skip's heartbeat sped up. 'Well, there's nothing for it. If I try to run, they'll catch me for sure. Might as well take a few down with me before I go.'

With his mind made up, Skip held the weapon to his chest, and took a deep breath. He cleared his mind of the pain and familiar feeling of emptiness from the loss of his friend, his mentor. Those didn't matter anymore. As Jaren would've said, he had a date with destiny now. The sound of hoofbeats had stopped, and Skip could tell the riders were nearby. He opened his eyes, calm and collected, and sprung out from the tree he was hiding behind. He took aim at the nearest person, but hesitated before he could pull the trigger. Visibility was limited considering the sun had gone down a few hours ago, but the moon was out, which provided just enough light to see who he was aiming at. His target was wearing a short, green cloak, nothing like what his original pursuers wore. Everyone froze, no one daring to move a muscle. Skip then felt a cool blade press against his throat, as a voice spoke by his ear; "Oi brat, how about you don't point that thing at one of my men."

Trost District, June 846

Four Days Earlier…

Skip leaned against the wall outside of the Trost District residence that he and Jaren were visiting, idly flipping a coin with a bored expression. The man who lived there had notified that courier service that he needed something delivered, and requested their fastest riders. Having just returned from a delivery in Yarckel District, they were handed this assignment. 'What the hell was taking Jaren so long? He's been in there for half an hour.' Skip's gaze lazily swept over his surroundings for what must've been the hundredth time since he had occupied that spot, as his patience continued to wear thin. Trost hadn't changed too much since he first left the city 9 months ago. There were fewer refugees on the streets, owing to the fact that many of them had been pressed into fieldwork to try and prop up the local food supply, but that endeavor hadn't exactly worked out. Quite a few of the refugees had died of exposure during the winter, and some of them starved to death, he had heard. He wondered if those kids he knew from Shiganshina were among them? Come to think of it, he hadn't seen them since the day Wall Maria fell.

Skip's musings were interrupted by the opening and closing of a door to his left. Turning towards the source of the sound, he saw Jaren exiting the house with a guarded expression. Over the months they had worked together, Skip had come to recognize what Jaren's facial expressions really meant. In this case, this was a delivery Jaren wasn't quite sure about.

"Alright chief, what's the word on this one? Who are we delivering this to?"

Jaren was silent for a moment, then he answered, "This message is to be delivered to Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps."

Skip's brain took a moment to process what Jaren had just told him, before slowly speaking, "They want us to deliver a message to the commander of the Scouts?"

Jaren nodded, "Yeah, apparently."

Skip hummed for a moment, before asking, "Why would someone use the courier service to deliver a letter to the leader of the Scouts? The military mail system may not be as efficient, but it's a hell of a lot safer to use."

"I can't be certain, but if I had to venture a guess," Jaren paused, as if thinking over whether he really wanted to continue with this line of thinking, "it probably contains something that this man doesn't want the MPs to get their hands on. You know how they read pretty much every letter that gets sent through them."

"That thought doesn't exactly comfort me."

"Well, you asked."

"Oi brat, are you deaf?"

Skip swallowed, and slowly lowered his weapon. He flicked the safety back on, and then dropped the weapon.

"Okay, now listen well kiddo," the blade was removed from his throat, "you are going to explain who you are, and what you're doing with that gun."

Skip struggled to find his voice, asking quietly, "You guys are Scouts?"

"And what if we are?"

"I have a message for Commander Erwin Smith. I don't know what's in it, but I'm guessing it's important, considering it didn't get sent through the military mail service."

The squad of scouts exchanged glances, before the voice behind Skip spoke again, "You didn't answer my question, brat," although it was subtle, Skip could tell that the voice was becoming more frustrated, "what are you doing with that gun?"

Fresh memories flashed before Skip's eyes, and he had to fight back the returning feeling of hollowness. He swallowed again. "It was given to me by my partner, along with his jacket."

The man was silent again, as if he were thinking over what Skip had said, deciding whether he was telling the truth. After what seemed like an hour, the man spoke again, "You're coming with us. As long as you don't point that thing at anyone, you can keep it with you," the man walked out into Skip's field of vision, where he noted that the mystery man was oddly short for who Skip assumed was an adult in his late twenties. The man turned to another Scout, "Eld, he's riding with you."

The taller man, Eld was his name apparently, nodded, and motioned for Skip to come over to him. Skip crouched down, picked up his dropped firearm, replaced it in his jacket, and made his way over to Eld. As the older man pulled him up into the saddle in front of him, Skip heard one of the other Scouts speak to the short man in a hushed whisper, "Captain, are you sure we want to bring this kid to the Commander? I mean, he had a gun pointed at Gunther before we even realized he was there!"

As he mounted his disproportionately large horse, the short man simply responded, "Erwin told us that he wanted to meet the couriers personally."

With that, the squad of scouts took off back down the road they had come from.

Skip had lost track of how long he had been riding with the squad of scouts. They were presumably headed for the original rendezvous point, which he guessed was at least a few kilometers north. The squad had assumed an 'X' formation, akin to the 5 face of a die, with two scouts in the front, two in the back, with Skip and Eld in the middle. He looked at the backs of the scouts in front of him, observing the 'Wings of Freedom' emblazoned on their cloaks. Skip briefly pictured himself, slightly older, with those same wings on his back. He blinked, and shook his head. 'Where did that thought come from?' After what Skip assumed was close to an hour and a half of riding, he spotted what looked like small fires in the distance. As they approached the fires, he could see figures sitting around the fires. Arriving at one of the fires, the short captain signaled for his squad to halt and dismount, with Skip following suit. The people around the fire stood up, and the captain approached a much taller man.

"I found someone. He's pretty young, but he looks to be a courier. He also has another courier's belongings, and a message for you apparently."

The tall remained silent for a moment, pondering the new information. Eventually he replied, "That seems consistent with what we found. Mike said he smelled someone down in that direction. We also found two patches of bloody grass not too far from the river, about 3 kilometers west of here, but no bodies. Given what we know, it's probably safe to assume that the other courier is dead," the man, who Skip surmised was likely Commander Erwin, turned to him. His eyes looked Skip up and down, seeming to size him up.

"You said you have a message for me?"

Nodding absentmindedly, Skip pulled the letter entrusted to him out of his pocket. He approached Erwin, and handed the letter to him wordlessly.

Erwin took the letter, but paused, and studied Skip for a moment before saying, "Have a seat, I want to ask you a few things."

Skip hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to follow the man's order, but upon seeing that Erwin was already returning to his seat, Skip moved to sit opposite of him. After he sat down, two others sat on either side of him. He recognized one of them as the short captain, while he didn't recognize the other. She had her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, while also wearing some kind of glasses. She seemed to study him with concern, though Skip really wished she wouldn't. It made him somewhat uncomfortable. Doing his best to ignore the woman next to him, he focused his attention on the Commander, who had opened the letter and begun reading through its contents. After he finished reading the letter, he handed it off to another man who had sat down next to him, a man with short blonde hair, and a beard. Erwin looked into the fire for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, before locking eyes with Skip and asking, "What's your name?"

Skip stayed quiet for a moment before answering, "Spike Reid, sir."

"I see… How old are you?"

"Thirteen sir," This seemed to get something of a reaction out of the others sitting around the fire, with the other man across the fire raising an eyebrow, and the woman sitting next to him seeming to shift uncomfortably in her spot.

"You said there was originally another courier with you?"

For the second time that night, painful memories flashed in the boy's vision, but he pushed them down yet again, "Yes sir, my mentor was originally with me."

"What was his name?"

Skip took a minute to find his voice again before replying, "Jaren Adalman."

This answer also seemed to garner a reaction from the men sitting opposite him over the fire, who exchanged glances. What the glances conveyed, Skip wasn't sure.

Finally, the Commander spoke again, "I see… I'm sorry. Could you tell us how he died?"

3 Kilometers West of the Rendezvous Point

5 Hours Earlier

Skip was perched in a tree, using his spyglass to observe a group of riders who had been tailing them for the better part of a day. Jaren stood below him, leaning against the tree. Outwardly he projected a calm aura, but Skip could see past that to the nervousness underneath.

"There seem to be about sixteen of them, they don't look like bandits, though. Their clothes are too professional," Skip called down to Jaren.

"Is there someone in the lead, what does he look like?"

"Yeah, there does seem to be a guy in the lead. Looks like he's got black hair, and some kind of funny looking hat. Almost looks like one of those outlaws from the western districts of Wall Maria before it fell," The younger courier shifted his attention from the approaching riders to his mentor below, noting the grave expression on his face. Skip, deciding that he had been kept in the dark long enough, spoke up, "Alright Jaren, what's this about? Don't tell me you robbed a bank before we left."

Jaren sighed, and shook his head, eyes closed. He replied "No, this is much worse. Those are Kenny Ackermann's boys. Some call them the Anti- Personnel control squad, considering they used to work for the government. Nowadays they work as guns- for- hire."

Skip hopped down from his perch, staring at Jaren, "Okay, what did you do to piss someone off enough for them to hire out some former soldiers to hunt us down? Does it have to do with the letter we're supposed to deliver?"

Jaren remained silent for a moment, before answering, "Spike, have I ever told you the story about the man with the Golden Gun?"

Skip, not sure of how this related to their current predicament, decided to humor Jaren anyway, "No, I can't say you have."

Jaren smiled sadly, "Alright then partner, listen closely as I tell you a tale of fate. There once was a man, not too unlike us, who wandered the lands freely. He traveled for many years, meeting people, seeing new sights, and experiencing what life had to offer. One day, a mysterious person approached him. The mysterious figure told him that death was coming for him soon, and that the man now had a choice. The stranger offered him a golden gun that would prevent death from claiming him. However, he would never truly be able to enjoy the experiences life had to offer. The man, fearing death as any other man did, took the weapon, and used it to cheat death. After that, he wandered the world, but found that he no longer felt alive. After many years of aimless wandering, he felt death coming for him once again. This time, though, the man decided that it was time to let go. So, he entrusted the Golden Gun to a young boy who had a long life ahead of him, and went to face death on his own terms."

Skip could feel dread creeping over him as he pondered the implications of Jaren's story. The realization about what was going to happen dawned on him, and he could feel his stomach sinking. "We can still get out of this, you know. They haven't crossed the river yet," Skip tried to reason with his mentor.

Jaren sighed, and gazed up into the evening sky, "Nope… Not this time, partner. I've been living on borrowed time for quite a while now. I really should have died years ago, when they first came for me."

"Wait, this isn't the first time they've come for you!? You knew someone out there wanted you dead, and you kept working for the courier service?"

"Yep, and that's what's kept me alive. I've been on the move constantly, so they haven't been able to track me down, at least, until now," Jaren tore his gaze away from the orange sky, and looked down at his apprentice, his partner. "Spike, we don't have much time, so I need you to do as I tell you. Take these;" Jaren said as he began to shrug off his duster, which held not only the letter, but also his strange firearm, "and go find somewhere to hide. Wait there, and don't make a sound until they leave. You know where to go after that."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me to get yourself killed?" Skip quietly asked, still not understanding.

Jaren sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm not going out there to die. The truth is, I've been dead for years, it's just time for me to accept it." He opened his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he didn't just see his partner and fellow courier. He also saw the sad, terrified boy that lived under the surface. "I may not be around anymore Spike, but I'll never truly leave you. I'll live on in the memories and experiences we shared. As long as you keep those close, you'll carry me with you everywhere you go."

Jaren could hear the distant thundering of hooves. Their pursuers had finally crossed the river. They were running out of time, and Skip still stood frozen to his spot, a vacant look in his eyes. Jaren gritted his teeth and shouted at the boy, hoping it would shock him into action. "MOVE, DAMNIT!"

This time, Skip snapped out of his paralyzed state, and took off into the woods.

About 50 meters from where Jaren was being approached by the mercenaries, Skip lay prone in a bush. He made no noise, save for his own breathing. As the lead mercenary approached Jaren, he began to speak, and Skip strained his hearing to listen in to what was being said.

"Well, well, well… Look who we have 'ere."

"Hello again, Kenny. Come to put me down again, I presume?"

Kenny laughed a little, "Hahaha! You know me too well, Adalman."

"Perhaps. If I didn't know you any better I'd have thought that your only goal in life was to kill me."

From where he was hiding, Skip could see Kenny shake his head. He then lowered his voice, making it more difficult for Skip to hear.

"You know… nothing personal."

Jaren shook his head, "It's been personal for you since… all those years ago."

Kenny shrugged, "Maybe. But at first… just business. I didn't… hired by Reiss."

Skip could tell the conversation was coming to an end. He could see the impatience in Kenny's body language. He wanted to finish this now.

Jaren raised his voice again, "You'd best watch yourself Ackermann, afterall, turnabout's fair play. You'll get what's coming to you. One day."

Kenny chuckled grimly, "Maybe, maybe not. What matters right now, though, is that your road ends here."

In one smooth motion, the mercenary pulled out a gun, took aim, and squeezed the trigger.

Skip averted his eyes, unwilling to watch the scene unfold any further. He remained prone in the bush, motionless, for a few more minutes. He was struggling to process what had just happened. Jaren Adalman, someone who had become something of an adoptive family member to him, was dead. Skip probably would've broken down right then and there, if he hadn't heard Kenny shout his next orders to his squad.

"I think I saw two of 'em. Find the runt, and take him out, too! He probably isn't too far off, and he probably has Adalman's stuff with 'em!"

At this, Skip's attention immediately snapped back to the situation, and began looking for escape routes. Outrunning them on foot was out of the question; they had horses, and he didn't. Fighting wasn't much of an option, as an impeccable aim didn't mean much when you didn't have enough rounds to kill all of your opponents. Then Skip's eyes fell on the river behind Kenny and his mercenaries. A plan started to formulate in his head. He spotted a sizable log a few meters from where he was currently laying, and his plan continued to take shape. As Kenny's line of lackeys began making their way into the woods the courier was hiding in, he tossed the log off to his right, intending to distract and draw off enough of Kenny's soldiers to make an opening for himself. The log made the intended racket, and Skip spotted his opening. As quickly and as quietly as he could, he bolted for the gap in Kenny's line, praying to whatever god was out there that he wasn't spotted. Unfortunately, one of Kenny's men off to Skip's left spotted him, and turned his gun on him. Reacting with lightning speed, Skip pulled out Jaren's weapon, aimed it at the mercenary's head, and squeezed the trigger. The kickback on the weapon was considerable, but Skip absorbed it nonetheless. The shot hit its mark, and the mercenary dropped to the ground, dead on the spot. Skip had no time to consider the ramifications of what he had just done, considering he had just given away his position, and he resumed his scramble for the river.

He could hear Kenny yelling from somewhere behind him. "Get that runt! Don't let 'im reach the river!"

Skip could hear shots whizzing past him as Kenny's soldiers opened fire in an attempt to kill him before he could reach the river. None of them hit, though one came perilously close, whizzing a few inches past his right ear. After his dead sprint across the open field, he finally reached the river. Without a second thought, he dived into the water, and began to swim with the current.

The Scouts were all silent after Skip had finished telling his story. Erwin and the man next to him seemed deep in thought, while the woman sitting next to him had turned to the fire. After a moment, Erwin took the letter from the other man, and tossed it into the fire in front of him. He raised his gaze to address Skip, "If what you tell us is true, then this message is a moot point."

Skip lowered his head into his hands, speaking barely above a whisper "So then he died for nothing?"

The short captain spoke up, "No, he didn't. He died so that you wouldn't."

This was little comfort to Skip, but he didn't dwell on it. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to simply fall asleep. Deciding that he needed to reach an inn before exhaustion overtook him, he abruptly stood up. Erwin raised an eyebrow at him. Skip addressed the Commander, "Thank you for your time, Commander, but I need to be going now."

The Commander stood as well, "With Kenny and his men still roaming around, I think it would be best if you remained with us for the night," he advised the young courier.

Skip had to admit, the offer was tempting to a degree, but he decided that he really needed to be going, and shook his head.

"I'll be alright. I just need to reach the nearest courier waystation to report…" he trailed off, unable to finish his own sentence.

Erwin, seeing that there was nothing he could do to convince the young courier otherwise, simply nodded.

"Alright, I'll have Captain Levi here give you a ride to the nearest town, seeing as your horse is nowhere to be found. Thank you for delivering the message, and… I'm sorry for your loss."

Skip nodded numbly, before following the short captain to his horse. As he was walking, what Commander Erwin had said before struck him, almost as an afterthought. The short man was Captain Levi, humanity's strongest soldier. Skip's brain had been too scattered and exhausted to put together the pieces over the last few hours, but now that it was in front of him, it made perfect sense. His momentary revelation was swiftly overtaken by his exhaustion, and he returned to his mechanical state. He barely registered mounting the horse, and by the time his mind was aware of its surroundings again, they had already arrived at a nearby town. Skip wordlessly dismounted, careful not to fall over, and began making his way to the local waystation.

Before he could get too far, though, Levi spoke, "I'll say kid, I'm a little impressed. You managed to give Kenny the Ripper the slip. Never forget that."

With that, Levi turned, and rode off. Skip knew Kenny the Ripper rang some kind of bell in the back of his mind, but he didn't really care. He was just so, so tired. Even so, he couldn't shake the distinct feeling that this wouldn't be the last time he and Captain Levi would cross paths.

Up Next: The City Down Under