INCIDENT REPORT – SURVEY CORPS

Date: May 2nd, 845

First name: Levi Last name: ? fuck this you know I don't have one

Duty (check one):

Section Commander

Senior Team Leader

x Squad Leader

Incident Type (check one):

Accident / Injury (on base)

Injury (Titan-related)

Casualty (Titan-related)

x Other (please specify): _ Fight_

Instigators (if applicable): _Me (Levi)_

Soldiers involved: Terre Baker, Rushton Burns, Helga Foster, Andreas Lambert, Martell Weber, Borg Wall

Injuries (if applicable):

Broken wrist, black eye, bruises (Terre)

Sprained ankle, bruises (Rushton)

Broken nose, bruises (Helga)

Black eye, bruises (Andreas)

Concussion, bruises (Martell)

Claims he's got a broken arm, but he's just a big baby, I know all he's got is bruises (Borg)

SUMMARY:

Terre was being a dumbass. Somebody needed to teach him a lesson. That would've been the end of it, except that the rest of the kids are overprotective and also way more loyal to each other than any of them are to me, so I ended up having to beat the shit out of all of them.

DETAILED REPORT:

FIRSTLY, who the hell ever used "firstly" in any normal sentence?

SECONDLY, all these rules about using a "traditional report structure" are stupid as fuck.

THIRDLY, I'm only following this idiotic fucking layout because Mike is in the room and even though I'm positive he can't read the actual words I'm writing, I swear he can smell incorrect formatting.

FOURTHLY, I know you'll want me to tell you what the fight was about, but I already know you're not gonna like it, so why don't we just save me the trouble of explaining and you the trouble of chewing me out? Terre said something stupid, I told him to shut the fuck up or fight me, and he picked the second option. That's all.

FIFTHLY, I resign as squad leader. You can also take this as my formal request to go back to serving as a normal-ass soldier in your squad, which is where I should have stayed forever and ever amen, thank you very much.

LASTLY, fuck this format and fuck you.

Okay so Mike left the room—I don't know when he's coming back so I've got to write fast before he sees this. Maybe I'll manage to slip my note inside the envelope before he catches me this time. Yeah, yeah, I know…now that you're the High and Mighty Commander and all that, I'm supposed to be all formal and professional and not write to you like this anymore. But since the chances of that happening are exactly zero, if Mike really wants me to stop sneaking around, maybe he should try getting his head out of his ass and accepting that I'm going to do whatever the hell I want.

I don't even think he cares about the rules all that much—he just doesn't like me. Maybe it's the fact that you made me a squad leader after only six months. Or maybe he still hasn't forgiven you for putting me in charge of the squad outside the gate when Shiganshina fell. Or maybe it's because of that one time he found me asleep on the couch in your office after I'd been awake for four days straight and there was a cloak draped over me and he thought the cloak was yours but I told him it couldn't possibly be yours because we're not friends—because yeah, fine, you might be brilliant, and sure, maybe I swore to follow you until the day I die, blah blah blah, but none of that changes the fact that you're still an arrogant, pretentious, smooth-talking prick and I only associate with you out of pure necessity.

The point is that he thinks I'm too informal around you. Guess he thinks I need to be more respectful. I have no clue where he got that idea. Me? Disrespectful? Really?

Anyway, you need to come home right the fuck now. This place is going to hell without you.

For starters, ever since you denied her request to capture a live Titan, Hange's gone insane. She keeps walking into training drills with this crazed look in her eyes, pulling out a random soldier or two (which, by the way, she only has the authority to do because you made her a section commander—on a 100% unrelated note, why the hell did you make her a section commander), and dragging them off to her lab. Believe me, I've tried to find out what exactly she does with all those poor kids—but nobody will talk about it. Her projects all show up at breakfast the next day, shaky and glassy-eyed and chugging mugs of caffeinated tea. If you ask any of them what happened, they keep muttering things like "it's too much" and "doesn't she ever breathe" and "she just won't stop talking."

Also, Mike and I don't agree on anything, which is a big problem since technically he outranks me. It really wouldn't be that big of a problem if he weren't so goddamn wrong all the time. He keeps ordering us to run the same old training drills with those ancient wooden training Titans (which are falling apart on their own anyway), and by now even the most incompetent shitheads have figured out how to poke a slow wooden target with their sharp little sticks, and so the drills aren't any good anymore. They're actually boring. There are only like five or six patterns that the training Titans are rigged to pop out in, and it's gotten so predictable that even Borg has it memorized (and in case you don't remember, Borg's a certifiable idiot).

But just because I convinced Hange to build a bigger, three-dimensional training Titan, and because we snuck out at night to rig the forest with them, and because the training drill was more exciting than normal because suddenly the Titans are "fifteen meters tall" and "motor-operated" and "capable of ripping a human body to pieces in less than ten seconds," suddenly I'm the problem. Mike barely even got mad at Hange, and she built the damn things! No, naturally this is all Levi's fault because it was his idea and he was just stringing poor Hange along with promises of candy and science.

To be fair, that is what I was doing. But still, Mike shouldn't be lecturing me like a little kid in front of my squad. If he would just leave me alone, then I wouldn't have to fight him, and then Hange wouldn't have to tranquilize me, and then I wouldn't have to wake up in the officers' barracks six hours later with a blinding headache.

Whatever. What I'm trying to say is that if you don't come back soon, I'm going to organize your filing cabinet. I'll file everything in alphabetical order, but I know you're so used to your shitty piles of chaos that even the most basic ordering system will throw you completely off and you'll never find anything ever again.

I have to go. I can hear Mike coming back down the hall. Please come home. I'm not kidding about the filing cabinet.

-Levi