Roger took the bullet to the chest—straight through the heart.
After too long fighting Titans, he hadn't even considered that the people inside the walls might have firearms.
For a moment, his consciousness dimmed.
His heart struggled to pump, blood flow disrupted.
The haze closed in, and Roger collapsed.
Before hitting the ground, he caught a glimpse of the pistol—old, crude, almost a relic. One step short of a musket.
Such a weapon couldn't fire rapidly.
Roger gambled on that.
He fell, letting the Titan's power begin knitting his chest.
One second.
Two.
Three.
"Damn it, how's this bastard healing so fast?!"
"Richards!"
"Shit, his head got lopped clean off…"
Four.
Five.
Six.
"Guess the boss was right. This guy's definitely a deserter."
"No surprise, coming from the Survey Corps. Those guys fight Titans like devils."
"Damn, how'm I supposed to drag him alone? You gotta be kidding me! One dead already…"
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
"What's this—Military Police?"
"Ah, friends!"
"Hey—over here! Give me a hand! Quick!"
"Boss?!"
"Uh… he ran into my gun, I swear. Not my fault!"
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The Titan's healing finished. Roger's heart thudded back to life, breath steadying, strength surging.
At the sound of their voices, he snapped his eyes open, leapt to his feet, and slashed. His blade flicked the pistol from the man's grip, then he lunged forward, seizing him by the throat and pressing the blade across his neck.
"AAAHH!!"
The man shrieked, his pistol kicked away.
Roger scanned the scene—six men, dressed as thugs. Behind them, a carriage. A man sat atop it, dressed sharp in a suit and tie, a hat shadowing his face. One eye gleamed unnaturally red—an artificial implant.
"Let him go!"
"Drop the blade!"
"Bastard!"
The thugs shouted in anger.
Roger noted the deserted buildings around them. No civilians, no MPs.
A perfect hideout for gangs.
So soon inside the second wall, and already—organized crime.
Then the boss spoke.
He plucked the cigarette from his lips, regarding Roger with a glint of admiration.
"Survey Corps man, don't mistake us. We mean no harm." He stepped down from the carriage, removed his hat with a bow. "As you see, we're just men earning our keep. We were in Stohess, headed to Wall Maria for business, when we heard Trost was sealed off. Tell me—why?"
Roger's mind raced.
Trost locked down?
Because of me?
Had Erwin already moved?
"You ask questions like this?"
Roger's eyes flicked to the pistol on the ground.
"My apologies." The boss inclined his head. "I am Wald Turner. My men were out of line. Forgive them. I hold the Corps in the highest regard—the bravest of the three branches. I only wondered why a Survey soldier walks Wall Rose alone."
"…"
"If I'm not wrong, your uniform's an old cut, yes?" Wald puffed smoke into the air. "The insignia on your back is smaller than the current issue. That's a model from ten years ago. But you—you barely look of age."
An old insignia?
Outdated gear.
Roger, not being of the walls, hadn't known. But someone sharp had noticed.
"What do you want?" Roger asked, feeling this wasn't a dead end.
"Nothing in particular. You're a deserter, stole the gear to sneak past lockdown—fine. Not my concern. I just want to know what happened in Trost, and in Maria especially." Wald tapped ash from his smoke.
Roger thought. Since they hadn't suspected him of being a Titan, why not play along?
"Trost's fine. But Wall Maria—breached by a Colossal. Titans inside already."
"…I see."
Wald didn't flinch, though his men broke into panic.
"Boss, what now?!"
"Maria's a graveyard! Dead everywhere!"
"Boss, your father, your son—they must be—"
"What do we do, boss?!"
Lighting another cigarette, Wald exhaled slow.
"…We return to the capital."
The words hung heavy.
The capital.
Roger's thoughts sharpened.
Halfway through his smoke, Wald eyed Roger's hostage.
"Release Rue. We won't harm you. He's useless to you."
But Roger only smiled.
"No. One condition—you use your ways to get me into the capital."
At that, Wald studied him—and his maneuver gear.
"Kill Rue," he ordered, flicking his hand to leave.
He'd intended to capture this odd soldier, strip him of information, then take the gear. But Roger's display had shaken him. He decided to cut loose.
Now Roger dared use his man's life as leverage?
"You think I care?"
"Wait." Roger shoved Rue aside. "This isn't negotiation. Refuse me, and you'll all die. Painfully."
The thugs erupted.
"Bastard! You've gone too far!"
Bang! Bang!!
Two shots punched into Roger's body.
He staggered back, but the rounds missed vital spots. His body held.
The Titan's light spread over him, healing. He slid the blades back into their sheaths, yellow glow flickering from his skin.
Boom!!
Roger's arm swelled, giant flesh exploding outward, and he seized Wald in his massive grip.
The shockwave flung the gang into walls.
Wald's eyes bulged as the Titan's hand closed around him.
"Wh-what are you?!" he gasped.
Roger slid his arm free of the giant's flesh.
"Bad man," he said, picking up the pistol from the ground.
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