Trost is the death of innocence.

There they are, an army of frightened children, boys and girls on the cusp of adulthood. They turn to chaos in the wake of their new reality; with the death of officers and comrades the ranks quickly crumble into panicked disorder.

The monsters these child soldiers have learned to combat are simple, human necessities. They know of starvation and exhaustion, and faulty manoeuvre gear or a good tongue-lashing from an instructor; perhaps the worst of situations involve deportation to the fields to die a slow, pathetic death.

Then suddenly Krieg, the captain of the squad, is screaming because his arm and half his body is gone and he flails as his tiny body is dragged down by the tightly closed jaws of a Titan with eyes as big as the windows of the house his compatriots are standing on with their swords drawn and their legs immobile. And his blood sprays through the air, and he's likely pissing himself in shock and some of the blood comes up through his mouth before he is gone. Nobody knows what to do with this.

They don't cope, they don't move on. They run for it or shut down or scream or kill themselves because there's nothing. And some chase after it, seeking revenge and run out of gas, crash instead, or another Titan kills them.

There is no easy way out.

For those as lucky as Marco Bodt, there is salvation in the footsteps of surviving comrades, but no peace. Always, the stench of death clogs his nostrils. Air coagulates till he can nearly taste the copper and the bile in the back of his throat.

He wonders as he flies alongside his fellow soldiers, as if in a dream, if he will live to see to-morrow. If anyone will. Their instruction has been child's play, and everything they've been taught is all but meaningless next to the gaping maw of a Titan.

He remembers Krieg. Eren Jaeger and Mina Carolina and Mylius Zeramunski, Nac Tias and Tomas Wagner. They're dead, too. He'll never know how or when. He remembers how Armin wept over the profession and didn't look at anyone. He counts the names of those who are still alive: Mikasa Ackerman, Jean Kirstein, Armin Arlert, Bertholdt, Annie, Reiner Braun, Sasha, Connie Springer, Krista Lenz…he knows there are more. There must be more than that, but he's flying through the air in pursuit of Mikasa and he almost crashes and someone admonishes him upon landing, maybe Jean, he isn't sure. It's probably Jean, because of the tone. The words are only white noise.

At least it wasn't me who was killed, Marco thinks, and hates himself for it.

The acquisition of gas is the saviour of their morale; the revelation of Eren's true nature is what keeps them all staring at his unconscious body as Mikasa clings to him, weeping like a child. He's covered in blood, in slime and burns. Armin creeps over and holds his hand. No one knows what to say.

Until Eren stirs, speaks, slurry and dreamlike:

"'m goin't kill 'em."

Mikasa actually lets him go in horror, grabs his shoulders and holds him at arm's length, shaking him a little. His head droops onto his chin and he's mumbling under his breath. He sounds almost…happy, dazed, like he's half-asleep.

Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie exchange grave looks. Jean recovers first, barks that they need to get this idiot to someone who can manage him.

Marco takes it all in and doesn't know what to think.

As a group they take Eren to the lift and watch him go alongside Mikasa and Armin.

The Garrison officers swear the rest of them to secrecy and the group makes it way down the other side of Wall Rose.

The rest of the time is spent waiting for news. Connie explains over and over the oath they've taken while Sasha remains steadfast by his side. Marco counts those whom he recognises. Ymir, he thinks. That was a name I forgot.

And Daz.

Daz, who shouldn't have become a soldier. Daz, who now begs to be released, killed, whatever it takes, he can't do this again, vomiting up what little sustenance remains inside him out of despair. Marco tries to comfort him but he's brushed aside, then smacked away with trembling hands. He abandons Daz somewhat unwillingly, goes to find the rest of the 104th who welcome his presence in silence.

There's a strange kind of comfort, despite the new horrors of war, in that silent connection. They, who have lived and learned and fought together, now survive together. How many days will they survive? How many of them will suffer the same fate as Krieg?

Ten minutes later there's an echoing BOOM like a cannon blast and Reiner, Annie and Jean all shoot for the rooftops. Marco follows and for the third time that day, he's speechless at the sight before him.

The officers are on the roof, too, shouting, but there are at least a dozen soldiers up now, all gazing down as the giant, smoking skeleton crumbles to ash.

Armin's voice rings out through the silence, met by Kitz's. Back and forth, the argument rises. When it's cut short, mercifully, the cadets are shepherded down to earth and this time there is no oath that can be given.

Within the hour Commander Pixis tells them of their new mission and they're split into groups, sent back to the hell they have only just escaped.

So it is that Marco finds himself alongside Jean and Annie. Eren's Titan is somewhere within Trost, lugging the boulder to the hole, or so he hopes. Distantly he hears screams and roars and the thud of giant footsteps.

There are a few Titans up ahead, so they split up to combat the threat. Marco, true to form, stays back and attempts to draw the biggest one's attention. Jean and Annie attack the smaller one. The first goes down easy; the second, though, is much more dangerous—an Aberrant?—and it catches the other two off guard, sends Jean into a panic and Annie spiralling to crash upon the roof and Marco looks on in horror.

"Goddammit!"

That's Jean. Annie's a few ranks above the pair of them and if they lose her, the situation will only get worse.

"I'll help her!" Marco shouts, and wheels back. It's a gamble, but she's a valuable teammate and given the circumstances, he hopes Jean will understand.

His feet collide with solid ground. Shaken from impact, he dashes over to her.

"Annie!" he cries, and she spins around, wide-eyed with shock, half-kneeling, and wobbles on one leg. He can't see the details but even at a distance he ascertains that there's a lot of blood. He wonders if she's broken something. "Can you stand? We need to get you to a doctor…."

She remains still, head lowered as if she does not want to face him but he can see her eyes shining with an unfamiliar emotion from beneath her pale hair. His attention, conversely, is fixed on her face…and then the thin haze of steam rising from below.

Steam. His eyes snap downwards to her wounded leg; the blood remains, but she is steady on her feet, white-faced.

Annie casts a glance around her, covering the wound as best she can and stands, slowly, does not falter on her healing limb, and Marco doesn't move. She lets her hand drift to the hilt of her blade—he recoils slightly—and says, quite calmly:

"So. I guess you've found me out."

He can only stare at her.

"Wh-what?"

"I'm one of the test subjects from the military's research." Marco's face whitens. His jaw works soundlessly and then he closes his mouth tight, but he's staring at her with something other than fear.

"Th-then, that would make you..."

Annie smiles thinly. "Yes. I'd be like Eren, wouldn't I?"

He opens his mouth to ask her another question that has barely formed in his dumbstruck head, but before he can speak she continues.

"You're the only one that knows."

"Why—" he splutters finally, "why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you're a good tactician. So we can work together for a little while."

He sizes her up, the shock of this revelation remains prevalent, but his brain is kicking back into gear. "What's your mission?"

She lets her hand stray from her blade, to hover rather than embrace the rough leather. "Classified. You can help me for now, Marco. But after I do what I have to do, this going to stay between us. You understand, don't you?" An emotion flashes across Marco's face, but it's dispelled as quickly as it comes.

"O-of course. What do we have to do?"

She straightens up, stretches her restored leg as if testing her weight.

"Follow me."

Half an hour to that conversation, Marco resumes his position upon the roof, at a loss for how to describe the emotions that are running amok in his mind. Shock, maybe. Disbelief and fear and confusion.

Annie Leonhardt, a Titan? It's almost inconceivable. But what else is he supposed to think? He can't deny what he has seen today, no matter how badly he would like to do so. He's seen Eren turn back from a mass of burning flesh into a boy and then become a burning skeleton, so why would it be so unreasonable? He wracks his brain. Is she a spy? If she and Eren are in this together, then what is her purpose? Perhaps she serves as a back-up for the Military in case Eren cannot be restrained…that makes sense. But it doesn't answer the question that burns the brightest in his mind: can I trust her?

He hasn't exactly gotten to know her very well; she has never been sociable, but it all pales in comparison to this terrifying discovery.

She's a Titan, too. How many more of her kind are hiding within the Walls?

But he's pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his name.

"Marco!"

It's Annie's voice, choked and harsh as if gripped with fear, or pain. Startled, his heart sinking faster than his body in freefall, Marco races across the rooftops over to the source of the sound. It takes him a moment to identify her, but she's down below, standing with her back to him, doubled over, left hand clutching her side, the other supporting herself upon the wall of one of the many broken-down houses.

Is she hurt? He can't tell. She's never sounded that urgent before.

"Are you all right?" he calls. There's no reply. Maybe her leg has given out. "Hang on, I'm coming down!"

The cable shoots out, embedding itself in the wall of the dilapidated building. Concern gives way to confusion as she straightens up, then horror as he sees, almost too late, the blade flashing in her left hand. Instinct saves him though his body is frozen; he swerves and her blade connects with the side of the building, mere millimetres from where he was seconds ago.

"What—"

Annie spins round as he lands and her sword crashes once more with the wall, drawing sparks. He ducks to avoid her but she cuts his shoulder. The pain snaps him out of his trance. He notices that her hands are shaking. Why is she looking at him with fear in her eyes? She's the one with all the power in this situation.

"This was a trap, wasn't it?" he asks weakly. "You were never going to let me tell anybody." And for the first time that day Marco truly realises in that moment he's probably going to die here. A strange sound fights to escape him, not quite a laugh, more of a strangled cry. "Who else is with you?" he asks, fighting to keep calm.

For an instant her façade falters and there is true fear in her eyes. Then it's gone, and a harsh, animal sound tears from her throat, and she brings down her sword so violently it breaks.