can you tell i haven’t written snk fic in a bazillion years
also it’s really short
word count: 158
The important things are in the apartment.
Reiner’s big TV, the beer, the couch, the ratty old quilt Connie’s mother made for him when he was two. Reiner dug out the blu ray player, Connie dug out the box set, and they balanced the TV on top of a tower of boxes before cracking open a beer each and settling in.
And that’s exactly where Jean finds them both, tucked under the quilt, slumped into each other, empty beer cans already trashing up the place.
“So when’s the wedding, guys?”
“Well, Margaery just married Joff-”
“What! You asses, you started without me!”
Reiner just smirks as Connie makes a sliver of room on the couch.
“Why can’t I have some blanket?”
“Bros only.”
“Jesus Christ, you guys are the worst.”
“Sorry Jean. That’s what you get for not showing up to help us move.”
Jean pouts into his couch corner, and Connie goes back to snuggling his not-boyfriend.
"Was it all a lie?! When we all pledged to survive...When we said that we'd all live to become old men and drink together... All of that... Was it all a lie?"
Summary: [[SPOILER WARNING: IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE MANGA THEN DO NOT READ.]] Basically, the 104th trainee squadron’s days through the eyes of Reiner Braun, whose true identity is yet-to-be revealed. He begins his days still heavily guarded, not hesitant to use violence, and still mourning the martyred death of his friend, Marcel. However, three years is a long time for the heart to resist change. And with each smile, each laugh, each memory, and each promise, Reiner is slowly forgetting not only the pain of losing Marcel, but the reality of who he truly is.
[Feel Free To Tell Me How To “Under The Cut” & I Will]
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Class the next day was the second half of our 3DMG lesson.
They had previously learned the positioning of the straps, and the physical science used in weight shifting and momentum. From that, Reiner had judged that while behind the walls, mankind was scientifically and technically inefficient, they were re-grasping their minds on physics and human anatomy at a decent pace.
In the second lesson, attention was shifted towards the more technical aspects of the 3DMG; such as the Handgrips, Piston-shot grapple-hooks, Gas powered mechanism, Iron Wire Propeller with Plug in Blades.
The iron wire propellers and the strengthened cables support your weight and momentum as the grapple-hooks hold their place and the gas chamber increases your speed.
Then the instructor went into the Plug-in-Blades equipment. It holsters ready, sharpened, and attachable blades as back up in case the others get dulled or broken in the midst of battle. It’s the heaviest part of the gear, but it’s importance in survival more than makes up for it.
The handgrips were referred to in yesterday's class. When the instructor introduced the leather strap holsters located on either side of the chest, he added that they were for the 3DMG handgrips.
These devices have a dual usage important in mastering 3DMG. The grapple-hooks that projected itself with the top trigger, and the gas chamber that propels you towards the direction as the bottom trigger. It’s because of this mechanism that mankind can swing from place to place, in horizontal and vertical movement. Hence the term 3-D Maneuvering.
Lastly, the creator of 3DMG, the genius whose fervent hope and engineering gave humanity a ghost of a chance against their impending extinction, Angel Aaltonen, his date of birth, and his last day on earth, were all copied down in notebooks for remembrance.
There were some new insights to the machinery, and possibly even some technological changes, since the last time the Garrison had taught Reiner and Bertholt anything.
Nonetheless, it still made for a dull lesson. The majority of the time, when the instructor’s eyes weren’t on him, Reiner was putting quill to damaged pages, rewriting the book from Marcel. He had gotten a considerable amount of pages done… Nevertheless, he just wished that the quills used here weren’t so poor in quality… or if he had brought a pen with him from home. The words he rewrote could have been much neater than they were. He would have to settle with this for now. Perhaps once they entered Sina and finished up their search for the "coordinate", he would have time to re-write the book from scratch at home.
Overall, the last couple of days were quiet with an air of disillusioned peace.
The real fun started at around dinnertime.
“I told you all already. I saw it.”
“Seriously?!”
“How big was it?”
“It could look over the wall.”
“What?!”
“I heard it straddled the wall.”
“Me too!”
“I‘ve heard that from my village too!”
“Not really, it wasn’t that big.”
Everyone was gathered around a table behind him as this one kid described his experience facing the titans firsthand. He’s heard plenty of these narratives before, usually a device to gain the center of attention. But what made him special was that he nearly saw the entire thing; Bertholt, the first wave of titans, and himself. This was the first time he heard the story told directly from a survivor of the front lines of Shinganshina. The event over two years ago; the day Wall Maria fell to the titans; the day a third of humanity’s land was forever lost, as well as 20% of its populace.
“And what about the Armored Titan that broke through Wall Maria?”
“Even though people call it that, it looked like any regular titan to me.”
Though he prickled slightly at the words, Reiner immediately noted the hilarity of actually being offended. Of course his titan form didn’t stand out to the boy, not in the way Bertholt's did.
Well… at least they had given him a moniker.
Annie with her horde of abnormals had been a bit late showing up for battle to flood the inner gates. Because of her tardiness, no one ever saw her titan form, or heard her titan’s scream.
The “Armored Titan”… It was far too ironic how well that title fitted him.
Even in his hometown, he was always guarded; out of its populace, there were only a handful of people whom he would actually talk to. And within that hand, there were still those he wouldn't trust with his back turned to them.
It wasn’t this way for everyone, and it didn’t need to be this way for him. The entire tribe seemed to get along fairly well without the conflict and strife he shouldered. They all trusted each other not to stick a knife to them.
He was the only exception solely because he made it so.
Maybe if he hadn't taken such a lethal approach to solve all his problems.
Maybe if he had been more obedient, followed every order, and shackled himself alongside the rest of the tribe.
Maybe if he had bowed his head more- spoke flattering words once in a while- then “existing” wouldn’t be as difficult for him back at home...
But that just wasn’t him.
And because of this, he had to prove his worth, his strength, his unrelenting spirit, by surviving by the skin of his teeth every single day.
He knew those who would call that a tiring, or even sorrowful existence. But if it allowed him to be who he was, and live how he wanted to, and choose the course of his life with freedom…? The price was easy to pay.
The boisterous voices behind him, and the hall’s numerous questions fell eerily silent. He had thought that the Drill Instructor had walked in until he heard a gagging sound and a stuttered apology from Connie.
I didn’t know he was over there…
He’s so damn short.
Where is he?
“That’s not it! Actually, the Titans are no big deal. Once we learn how to operate the Three Dimensional Maneuver Gear, they’ll be no match for us!”
There was a slight pause from what sounded like the boy forcing a drink down his throat.
“We finally have the chance to become soldiers, I just swallowed wrong earlier. I’ll join the Scouting Legion, and purge the whole damn world of Titans!”
The boy’s resolve could easily be found in his words, and his ferocity was enough to still the air, commanding silence from all those previously chattering within the mess hall.
Instantly, Reiner respected his cemented will and determination. Just as quickly, he shunned the gripping talons of guilt over his heart from the boy’s motivation. Keeping the door to memories of that day shut was always an agreed between Bertholt and himself. The day before the mission was even when Marcel had...
Well, using the word "died" honestly sounded too soft.
The commencement of their operation was a couple of days after Marcel was devoured and torn to shreds.
It would never happen, but if only he could tell the boy across the way that he too had a fervent desire to eradicate these Titans. That Reiner too had a goal of living in a world without constant guarding and fear.
They were all on the same side, technically; they just both had different ways of going about it.
“I’ll kill them all…,” he could hear the boy whisper.
How determined would he still be if he knew? The estimated number of these Titans he would have to slaughter in order to meet his goals.
To rectify the wrongs that had been done to him for the past two years?
Would he still be determined if he knew that there were thousands? Millions?
Billions…?
A sharp laugh filled the air with its owner’s mockery.
“ Ha! Hey! Are you nuts? Did you just say you wanted to join the Scouting Legion?“
His eyes searched for the voice amongst the recruits until they on the discolored hair. That voice (and that hair) could only belong to the hot-head he met the previous night.
“ That’s right… And weren’t you the one who said you wanted to join the military police and live an easy life?“
Ah... The motor-mouthed brat seemed familiar, Reiner just couldn't place where or when.
Between Jean, Connie, Potato Girl, and that guy he was sure was half-baked, that orientation spoke loads about the years that were to come.
“What can I say? I’m an honest kind of guy. It’s certainly better than acting all tough, when you’re actually scared shitless.“
It’s official; last night wasn't an exception. This city-kid habitually spoke his mind with incredible bluntness.
Apparently, the skull-crushing head blow from the Drill Instructor did nothing to change the gears on this guy’s mouth.
Possibly, the brain damage just made him even more stupid.
Psychologists should really consider ‘verbal diarrhea’ a mental disorder.
Chair legs grated the floor and a boy with brown hair and a farmer’s tan became visible in Reiner’s peripheral. There were those in the orientation who amused him, but he mainly took note of the ones who intrigued his survival instinct. The ones even the Drill Instructor looked over. The ones whose blank faces had eyes that blazed like the gates of Hell, were as lifeless as the dead, or frozen like the ice in their soul.
The brown haired recruit was one of such people...
And once again, city-boy was trying to pick a fight with someone he really shouldn’t.
Reiner truly did enjoy people watching, though. Being on the outside-looking-in gave you so many different advantages.
“Are you talking about me?”
“Hey, guys stop-!”
Like knowing who has the most shit personality-
“Oh? Sorry if I offended you.”
And who would be the worst to discover his true identity.
“Aiyahhh… Seems we’ll be stuck with a few idiots for the next 3 years,” somebody at his table spoke as Jean stood to confront the boy.
“Yeah, but look at `em” Reiner said, taking a swig out of his mug, “They’re too damn scrawny for this fight to be entertaining. They might as well pull each other’s hair and use fingernails.” The people around him chuckled and grinned in agreement.
Almost as if God Himself had timed it, before anything went down the warning bell rang for curfew. The next time Reiner looked away from his table, the brown haired boy had left, and Jean seemed to do a 180 as he was bashfully speaking with a girl of Asian descent. Curious since he had thought that all the human ones had been wiped out by now.
Reiner lost interest and searched around the room to find Bertholt, feeling the need to keep tabs on him. He told him last night to try mingling with others in hopes of getting him used to being within the enemy’s camp. Despite the strength inferred by his physique, Bertholt had always been a walking bundle of nerves. He had usually been good at hiding it, but ever since they had moved behind the walls, his sense of presence and all extroverted qualities melded with Reiner’s shadow. Only when the two of them are alone does he revert back to the self Reiner had known over 50 years.
Last he had checked, Bertholt was doing just fine; all fake smiles and engaging in conversation. However, looking at him now, his whole countenance screamed that he was visibly ill. The group around him even had worried expressions etched on their faces.
Time to go.
Bertholt sensed his stare, and turned his way. When he stood to leave and Bertholt followed suit, giving excuses to the group he had joined for dinner.
“Oi, Reiner! You leaving already?”
“Curfew’s still for half `n hour, man!”
“Yeah, well," Reiner got out before giving a large yawn, "Class was boring as shit. And then there’s that aptitude test tomorrow.”
There were a collective amount of groans around him.
“Isn’t this place a little too fast paced?”
“It best be, as a reflection of the battlefield; the titans won’t be moving in slow motion for you. We all have to use what limited amount of time we’re given to learn as much as we can.”
“You sure talk like you’re speaking from actual experience,” someone from the table shouted to him as he stacked his tray and joined Bertholt at the doorway.
“That’s because I am,” Reiner shouted back.
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Surprise, Bitch! I Bet You Thought You'd Seen The Last Of Me.
But all jokes aside, holy shit. I am so sorry for how long this took. It's even marked as Chapter 4.1 because this is only half of it, but I felt too guilty to wait until the other portion was finished.
So like yeah, I need a beta-reader, because without one, I get so nervous that I wait for five-*^%$#@@-months til my mother's not busy enough to read it.
I even have chapter 4.2 & 5 ready to go, I just need someone to read it before I post...
