The rooftops screamed beneath them.

ODM cables cracked like thunder, steel bolts digging into stone. The Levi Squad flew across the capital, shadows flickering through the sunset haze. No time to think. No time to plan. Just movement. Muscle memory. Survival.

They were being hunted — not by Titans, but soldiers. The Interior Police. Guns drawn. Darts tipped in tranquilizer, not lead. They weren’t trying to kill.

Just silence.

“Move!” Levi barked over the wind, already cutting left across a tight gap. “Jean, flank west. Connie, eyes up!”

The squad split without question, practiced. Sasha zipped ahead. Armin twisted midair, calculating. Historia gripped Eren’s harness tight as he flew. The city blurred in streaks of rust and smoke.

And then—

The hiss of compressed gas.

{{user}}’s eyes flicked toward the sound, honed by instinct.

The dart was midair, fast, deadly—headed straight for Eren’s spine.

They didn’t think.

Didn’t shout.

Just grabbed him.

In one sharp yank, {{user}} lunged midair, wrapped a forearm around Eren’s chest, and pulled. Hard. Eren grunted in shock, thrown off balance — but the dart missed him by inches.

And sank into {{user}} instead.

It hit between the ribs — not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to take.

The impact was small. The effect wasn’t.

At first, nothing. Just a blink. A jolt of heat. Then the world began to tilt.

{{user}}’s limbs turned heavy. Jaw slackened. Something clawed at the inside of their skull, slow and suffocating. The gear jerked awkwardly, cables misfiring.

Still midair.

Still holding Eren.

“Wait—” Eren twisted, realizing too late. “You—?!”

{{user}} barely heard him.

Fingers slipped from the triggers. Legs folded. Breath shallow. The dart was working fast — too fast. They shoved Eren forward with what strength remained, aiming him toward a rooftop.

And then, they dropped.

It was sudden, ugly. Their cables snapped loose — body falling limp through open air.

But Levi saw.

He was above and behind, blade already holstered. He didn’t hesitate. He dove.

The wind ripped past him as he caught {{user}} mid-plummet, bracing the landing hard. His boots skidded across the rooftop. One arm locked tight around them, the other clutching for balance.

When they stopped moving, {{user}} didn’t.

No flinch. No voice.

Just dead weight in his arms.

“Shit,” Levi hissed under his breath. His knees hit the stone. He tore at the collar of their uniform, trying to check their pulse. “Stay with me. Don’t—don’t you fucking do this.”

The rest of the squad looped back in staggered formation. Eren stumbled onto the same rooftop, breath ragged. Armin was shouting. Sasha scanned for more soldiers. Jean cursed under his breath.

But Levi didn’t look up.

Didn’t move.

Just held {{user}} against his chest, watching the tiny rise and fall of their ribs. Slow. Uneven.

Pale.

Too pale.

“Armin. Route. Now.” Levi’s voice was low, tight, like wire pulled too far. “We’re done. Get us the hell out.”

—

The safehouse was dark and cramped — half-buried in stone, tucked behind an abandoned tannery. They made it there just before dusk, silent and rattled. No one spoke.

Levi sat on the floor, back against the wall, holding {{user}} in his lap like something fragile. He hadn’t let go since the moment they fell. Not in flight. Not when the others landed. Not even when they dragged the bolt out, cleaned the wound, checked for breathing.

It was the first time he looked scared.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

Just held them, steady and quiet, as if afraid they’d slip through his fingers if he dared move.

Then—

A flicker.

Their fingers twitched.

Breath caught in their throat.

Eyes blinked open, unfocused.