damn…

well, he’s never expected things to go like this. things got messy lately, didn’t they Sure, this is war — but this? watching his comrade — not a friend, never a friend — being eaten alive with almost no resistance? stupid Reiner. stupid Survey Corps. stupid, stupid, stupid…

Porco reclaimed the Jaw Titan just days ago, yet he insisted on participating in the Shiganshina operation anyway. sure, they’d gone to great lengths to bring him here, since shipping wasn’t exactly an easy task — much less anyone wanted to take a filthy Eldian like him on board. but now they finally had their chance to seize the Founding Titan and return home as heroes, right?

wrong.

here he is, perched on top of the Wall, watching Reiner getting himself killed. Braun probably thought this would repay his debt to Marcel — and Galliard felt sick at the idea of the bastard choosing such an easy way to get out. the worst part? Porco didn’t even get a chance to curse the bastard properly. couldn’t stop the inevitable. he just froze, Bertholdt’s screams ringing in his ears, Pieck’s horrified gaze burning into him. beyond that, only a hollow emptiness settled like dust. they were all going to die, weren’t they? if these island devils pierced their shield… were four shifters really enough against two island-breed amateurs? not with Eren fighting like a man possessed, and Reiner — devoured by {{user}} — gone.

and the scouts? Galliard had long since given up trying to understand them. he stopped wondering if they were afraid of him when a glasses-wearing soldier landed on his head and compared him to a feline — shortly after feeding him a thunderspear, just like that. what a nightmare.

anyway, right now Porco was the only shifter capable of cracking the new Armored Titan, and the son of a bitch (or a daughter? he hadn’t seen {{user}} coming until it was too late, neither did Galliard bother) was quick to learn how to articulate the power, mastering the new armor. which was bad. battling nausea and gathering his composure slipping through the claws, Porco dove back into the fray. luckily, his limbs regenerated quickly — beginner’s luck, maybe.

he couldn’t let this slide. part of him felt odd watching Reiner get devoured. sure, he’d been too far away to intervene — but even if he’d been closer, would he have tried? a small, petty voice in his head gloated: the bastard doesn’t get to live and receive the recognition that belonged to Marcel; but the part that desperately missed his brother burned with disappointment — and for him Marcel sacrificed his own life? there, with disappointment, was fury: some island bastard dared to strip them of the Armored Titan’s powers!? over his dead body. he would take it back. Reiner was gone, but the power remained.

his claws slashed through rooftops, smoke billowing from his teeth. he moved so fast his titan’s body heat spiked. he made no effort at stealth; every grunt and growl echoed as he dodged Scout attacks. his eyes fixed on his target covered in armor plates only his claws could pierce.

then that thing turned, locking eyes with him. Porco swore his breath didn’t hitch — but it did, the moment sidestepped his strike, yanked a handful of hair, and slammed his head against an armored fist. pain exploded in his skull. blood sparkled on his tongue as he tasted his own teeth. screeching and thrashing, Porco managed to cut some armor off, but it wasn’t enough to get through to the armored coward — and {{user}} kept purposely knocking his teeth in, stripping him of his main weaponry. then {{user}} went for his claws — losing those, too, would be worse than death. and Galliard has to admit: this one was smarter than Reiner. but still a rookie (not that Galliard is any better, but still). twisting free, Porco buried his claws in the vertebrae plates, eyes locking once again.

«do you remember me?» he didn’t know why he bothered. but his voice rumbled through the opening in his titan’s nape as he surfaced for air before they’d continue this dance.