LOOK AT THIS! GOD ITS SO BEAUTIFUL!
All jokes aside, thank you—I haven't even finished the first season yet and this story is fucking massive.
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Early Morning, Trost District
It was loud, thunderously loud in Trost District today.
Protests, stoked by a combination of the terror attacks on Karanes District, call for more workers' rights and protections as well as general disgruntlement with the government, broke out en mass.
Refugees from the neighbouring camps and regular citizens came out into the streets to protest the government's shortcomings.
There were thousands of them, their numbers hovering around 30 to 40 thousand. It was twice the population of Trost.
Shouts and screams demand for change, demands for answers—answers that only the government had and could answer.
They wanted them all.
"What happened to our sons!?"
A woman held up a family portrait. She was the mother of a pair of teachers who suspiciously went missing one morning and never came back.
"The Military Police keep laying back and watch us die!"
"What's the point if our taxes result in our sons and daughters ending up in body bags!?"
"You can't silence all of us!!"
Government trust within Wall Rose was at an all-time low. Over the past year, there had been over a dozen attacks labelled under the "Terrorist" moniker, resulting in over 3000 deaths and thousands more injuries.
And that wasn't considering the cost of repairs to buildings, treatment for the injured, and funerals for the salvaged. It was bleeding the coffers dry.
The Royal Government in Mitras couldn't win such type of war, one that was asymmetrical, one where their enemy could pop up at any moment and gas 200 people in one fell swoop—shoot up a church gathering...and then disappear into nothingness.
The OFTL, however, wasn't popular at all. In fact, they were almost despised by contemporary thinkers.
They had made their goal clear, remove the Assembly of King Fritz's power and make the people, the ones at the bottom, the center of power. Supposedly, in their captured territory, they expressed their desire to create a bill of rights, a constitution, a worker's rights charter and promised free education to all.
It was supposedly an appealing purposal, and many desperate flocked to their cause initially...However the killings, gassing, brutality and terror attacks...muddled their image greatly.
Despite the people hating the government, they loathed the OFTL.
Three people, young, at around 15 years of age, looked on in wonder and apprehension at the large crows flowing through the streets of Trost.
"What's going on Armin? Why are they protesting?"
"W-well. I'm not too sure, but...do you remember how, you know?"
Eren's face morphed into anger, getting his friend's unspoken message—the recent terror attack on Karanes District, the home of one of his friends, Mina Carolina. The latter was utterly shocked when the news leaked, but thankfully her family was safe from any harm.
"Oh, yeah, I remember..." the teen seethed. "Why the hell do they even exist!? What's the point of killing humans!? Titans are the main enemy, Armin, not humans! Why do we have to fight ourselves?! It's stupid!"
Eren couldn't comprehend why humans would fight other humans—why humans would kill other humans. He simply didn't have the capacity at the moment to understand those concepts.
Eren didn't understand that the world wasn't black and white. He also didn't grasp Armin's suspicions regarding his parents' death; he couldn't fathom how Armin suspected that the Military Police were responsible for their deaths.
"I don't know, Eren...I really don't..."
The teen sneered. "It's fuckin' pointless. All the resources we could spend fighting titans are being diverted to fighting those devils. I wish they'd all drop dead."
"Eren!" Armin interjected. "They may have their—"
"I don't give a shit! They kill humans, they're nothing better than the Titans. Let's go—the cannons won't clean themselves."
Armin looked at his friend with a complex expression before delving into his own thoughts on the matter.
He was curious about the demands of such a violent organization, one that seemingly had evaded all Military Police and authority for seemingly, from his knowledge, at least 2-3 years give or take.
Freedom of the press was clamped down upon by the Royal Government due to quote "Dangerous Articles", and thus finding the OFTL's demands proved challenging.
Articles that were said to be "Dangerous" were ones posted by Berg News about the Royal Government's killings of intellectuals and technological innovators. This press censorship brought into question the Royal Government's legitimacy, and effectively stated that, yes, they did kill the people on that list.
However, he was able to find them and was surprised at their thinking. It didn't seem like normal demands from terrorists, but a concise and rather intelligent piece of work.
Armin hated to admit it, but in the back of his head, if the OFTL hadn't killed so many people, he would've maybe joined them instead of the military. Fighting for change through peaceful means was one thing, murdering thousands was another.
He failed to notice an inconspicuous man within the crowd before running after his friends.
The young man wore casual clothes made from wool and cotton. It was much more comfortable than the clothing 5 years ago; it wasn't itchy at all.
"Prepare for crowd control; the attack will start soon."
||𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑: 𝐖𝐀𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒||
The casual wind tousled my hair as I settled atop Wall Rose, engrossed in a book. Surprisingly, my fluency in German surpassed that of Japanese these days.
My thoughts drifted to Mikasa and the 104th. It had been over a year since I last sent a letter—perhaps they assumed that I was dead since I was a 'member' of the Military Police. Not that it matters much.
Crack!
Pop!
Hiss~
[—eke......ti...an....pi....ck.......an...]
My attention shifted to the crackling radio nearby, picking up faint transmissions from somewhere distant.
The messages were a jumble of incomprehensible gibberish, frustratingly impossible to decipher.
Pop!
Hiss~
Crack!
Occasionally adjusting the frequency interrupted my reading flow. I was getting into a good part.
[30....days....POP!.....are]
The fortress-like walls, while protective, played havoc with radio signals, complicating communication with the outside world.
[eael;naelojdag....eafn;daupbfhb...........3803esn]
"Another blackout," I sighed in annoyance.
Their technology seemed archaic, relying on basic encryption methods. It appeared they hadn't even developed the Enigma machine yet, indicative of a technology era akin to the early to mid-1930s, just prior to World War II.
The ostensible overkill of their tech made me ponder.
In the distance, the familiar hum of propellers caught my attention. Already? I hadn't anticipated their return for another day. Was it a refuelling stop, or had they concluded their mission sooner than expected?
WOOSH!
A powerful gust made me shut my eyes briefly, followed by the swift passage of a shadow moving at incredible speed—nearly 300 kilometres per hour. Peering into the distance, I squinted to make out details.
Teaching someone to pilot a helicopter doesn't prepare them for the adrenaline rush of such speeds.
How far away is the base again?
...
..
.
..
...
The 10 people who got off had varying emotions on their faces, along with new things in their hands they probably stole. There were mostly documents.
"What happened?" I asked. "You can be honest with me."
A majority looked a bit fearful but eventually one of them spoke.
"It's...kind of scary...there's so many of them...there must be millions out there and..."
A report of the new information was given. Certain people wear armbands around their left arm, it is coloured white and whoever wears these armbands is discriminated against for some odd reason.
I'm getting very large Jewish parallels for some reason.
"We...we observed what looked like their army training from a distance, they don't appear to be well-equipped like us, but there's certainly more of them."
There were less than 250 people within this organization. Even with the massive moves we made to make it known, it's still unpopular for whatever odd reason.
Maybe we should start taking credit for the information leaks instead of getting the Berg News in trouble.
Some were frustrated—once again their government was lying to them about the outside world. First came the political killings, stifling of technology, and now, an entire planet full of humans.
And the fact that no one has had their minds wiped yet only means that Frieda Reiss is dead.
Such a shame—I'll have to find whoever ate her.
I hummed. "Prepare the horses. We're going to Trost now. Get the canisters and small arms—quickly!"
"Of course, sir!"
I'll have to move quickly with my attack on the Capital. There's no telling if they're going to send more Titans or even their entire military to this island.
Two months is all I need.
...
..
.
..
...
Annie Leonheart slowly walked away from me, looking weary, massaging her wrists.
How odd; I was sure I had broken them. She shouldn't be able to move them with such flexibility unless she...
Huh...
The short blonde lady glared at me with tears in her eyes.
What? Don't look at me like that—you killed thousands directly or indirectly 5 years ago—what's another 30,000? 50,000? 100,000? 250,000? The entire population?
Don't tell me you've developed sympathies for these 'Island Devils'...
||𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑: 𝐖𝐀𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒||
Bertholdt Hoover gazed once more at the towering 50-meter structure, memories flooding back from half a decade ago when he stood in the same spot, facing a similar scene.
The echoes of outraged voices within the Trost District resonated in his mind, cries for reforms, workers' rights, and answers about vanished loved ones ringing thunderously.
Refugees—the very people he inadvertently displaced over five years ago with a simple kick to a wall much like this one. It weighed heavy on him, the realization that he would have to repeat history.
The Island Devils, often dehumanized, were not devils at all. They were compassionate individuals who found solace and camaraderie in simple things like sleeping positions and shared meals. They were just like the Eldians on the continent...
Among them were Bertholdt's friends from the 104th, each with family members enduring life in these refugee camps. Armin, for instance, had a grandfather residing in Trost's refugee camp.
As thousands protested for a better life and improved conditions, demanding the cessation of OFTL operations, Bertholdt couldn't help but feel the weight of their struggles.
"Haaah...haaah..."
He covered his mouth, overwhelmed by the turmoil within and around him. He wanted to vomit.
The Survay Corps were outside on an operation to set up another base for the recapture of Wall Maria and...He was just about to reset their progress back to 0 and then some by halving their territory once more.
Again, and again...
What were the evil individuals in the OFTL hoping to achieve by exploiting these vulnerable people in such a manner? It was just senseless slaughter of a people...
Tears welled in his eyes as Bertholdt, the tallest Warrior, bit down on his hand, triggering his transformation. With a surge of lightning, the God of Destruction emerged from the shell of a once timid child.
CRASSSH!!!
He could see it, all of Trost District from the eyes of his Titan's head. Berthold took in the moment briefly before performing the exact maneuver he did to Wall Maria, kicking the gate in.
An over 9-meter hole was blasted into the wall sending debris all over the place. Not even the anti-Colossal Titan defences he saw earlier in the day could stop the sheer force and air pressure of this God of Destruction.
Large boulders crashed into the wooden stockades, decimating them into splinters and being sent into the air—right into the protesting crowds.
Bertholdt saw it, a set of boulders, around 3 meters in both height and width crashed into a large group of refugees, killing dozens instantly.
He saw his fellow cadets, whom he had written letters with, shared meals with, and trained with, on the frontline, cleaning the cannons. He sent a burst of hot steam in their direction to blast them off the wall.
It was mercy on his part.
He needed to destroy the cannons.
...
..
.
..
...
..
.
..
...
Trost District was in chaos.
Dozens were killed and or injured by the initial attack by the Colossal Titan, who sent dozens of boulders and rocks hurling across the district.
There were over 35,000 or more people within the walls of Trost, Harvey Arlert included.
The Garrison and Military Police, who were just trying to calm and organize the protesters down into submission now acted on their training—they started to organize the evacuation of Trost District and prepare for their battle against the Titans.
Their strategy was as such;
The vanguard in the front was to kill and stall as many Titans as possible from reaching the populated areas within Trost. They were some of the most elite troops the Garrison could offer for this plan.
The middle guard would consist of the raw recruits from the 104th Training Corps and a few elite soldiers. Their job was to reinforce the vanguard if they were ever in need of doing so.
The rear guard's job was simple. Evacuate the citizens of Trost, as well as the refugees to a safe location within the inner walls. Another job of the rear guard was to watch and attempt to slow down the armoured titan whenever it appeared.
It was a logistical nightmare to pull off—since nearly all the refugees of the nearby Trost Camp had crammed themselves inside the city to protest.
In fact, protests all across the 4 outer districts had been ignited at nearly the same time...
"Hey! What's the hold-up!? Why aren't we moving!?" A frantic voice called within the large group.
"Titans are coming! If we don't move now, we'll be eaten!"
"Hey!!"
The first wave of evacuees inexplicably halted, leaving those further back puzzled.
Clank...
Clank...
'Huh?'
Harvey's gaze dropped to his foot, spotting a metallic canister. It seemed out of place—
"AHHHH!"
Without warning, a cloud of white gas billowed from the canister.
It was tear gas.
Riot control agents like tear gas incapacitate individuals temporarily by irritating the eyes, mouth, throat, lungs, and skin. It wasn't a lethal type of gas unless someone was exposed to it for a long period—only then, will they suffer long-term health problems.
Harvey reacted swiftly, dropping the canister and fleeing while coughing uncontrollably, his body feeling like it was ablaze for reasons he couldn't grasp.
"Hey!" A Garrison soldier's voice cut through the chaos. "What are you doing?! We're evacuating—don't hold up the—"
RATATATATA!
The sharp staccato of rapid gunfire assaulted the ears of the crowd, sending shockwaves of horror through those who recognized its significance. Among them were people from Karanes District, displaced to Trost after their homes were razed.
That relentless gunfire...
Several Military Police and Garrison Soldiers dropped dead immediately.
No...
No...
No...
No...!
[Attention citizens, refugees, and protesters within Trost. You won't be evacuating today.]
A thunderous voice echoed over the masses, commanding their attention and freezing them in place.
[You will ALL remain where you are.]
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Words: 2379
WAR CRIMES WAR CRIMES WAR CRIMES!
WHERES THE GENEVA CONVENTION?!
NOWHERE!!
CHEMICAL WARFARE REEEEEEEEEE