AN: Kept you waiting, huh? Details in the Author's Notes below.

Chapter 7: Power Play

About One Week Later – Post-Sealing of Wall Rose

Jean Kirstein could only stare at the metal-plated automation as its spherical head had pivoted to stare back at the 104th Corps Graduate. Like most of his fellow Legionnaires that were now milling around in the square, he froze where he stood, his hands ready to draw the anti-Titan swords that sat on his hips. However the automation, seemly bored or unimpressed at the sight of what would be the seventy-fifth (and counting) human to gawk at its appearance, continued to fall back to its guardian programming, panning the cameras mounted in its head left to right, occasionally making the FoF (Friend-or-Foe) scan every time a new individual walked into the area.

Jean, still unnerved at the sight of armored…golem, he tentatively identified, continued to walk over where Reiner Braun and his friends had stood, all of which were just as apprehensive as the rest of Legionnaires around them. Reiner was the first to notice Jean to come over.

"A crazy day this has been, huh Kirstein?"

Jean could only nod in return in what was probably the hugest understatement that he heard in a long time. First the reappearance of the Colossal Titan that had smashed Wall Maria, the heavy losses that were inflicted on humanity, most of which were 104th graduates that Jean had trained alongside, and the fact that Eren Jaeger, of all things, was a Titan with a singular goal of beating other Titans to a steaming pulp. And finally, to top it all off, the sudden appearance of the well-armed and armored soldiers and their controllable Titans that had fought alongside the surviving Legionnaires, using up-scaled, handheld weapons that rivaled the cannons of Wall Sina and the entire arsenal of the Military Police combined.

A few feet away from Jean and Reiner's group, sat Sasha Braus, who was staring at one of the aforementioned soldiers. None of the Legionnaires that had encountered the soldiers were able to catch a name other than the fact that they were part of a "Marauder Corps". That name was not without ire however, for some of the older Garrison and Military Police soldiers had thought that the name implied that the so-called "Pilots" were just in fact a roving band of well-equipped mercenaries. The fact that the Pilots had neither confirmed nor denied that accusation was troubling indeed.

Her sharp ears, keen from years of hunting, perked up as she caught the sound of a starving stomach from one of the foreign soldiers that was resting on top of some crates. Even with his helmet on, the Pilot looked surprise at his own hunger before squirrelling off to find a meal.

On any other day, from any other person, Sasha would've laughed.

But still, people that could go hungry like her weren't all too bad, right?

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

As I drummed my fingers on the handguard of my rifle, I took what looked like another lazy glance around the square. To the outsider, I probably looked very relaxed for someone who was supposedly on guard duty, with me lounging on top of some stacked crates, head tilting downward ever so slightly, as if I was about to soon fall asleep.

While the prospect of an afternoon nap was oh-so tantalizing, I was still maintaining a high level of vigilance. My active radar visor was working full time, painting my vision of the town square and its occupants in electric hues of blue and orange. Of course, orange would steadily turn into blue as the programming in my helm detected no hostilities from the constant scanning. Now and then, a hostile ping would creep from the edge of the nearby rooftops before disappearing for a second or two, but I just wrote it off as a possible glitch. While the position I sat in was comfortable, I was ready to roll off the wooden boxes and into the safety of Roger's Atlas if an attack was to occur.

growl

Ooh.

GROWL

Oh no.

Jerking into a somewhat upright position, I began to finally take note of my empty stomach. Augmented and athletic as pilots are, we stilled burned our (unfair) share of calories pretty quickly. While I heard of rumors of next-gen IMC pilots getting their guts tweaked so they can practically live off a month of grass if they had to, I for one had already settled with the processed rations that the Militia was more than happy to serve in its "esteemed and highly rated" mess hall. The only good perk that I managed to get out of my high-speed metabolism was that it was great for winning bets at the bar.

I opened a comm line to Roger as I checked the time. My shift was just about up.

Perfect.

"Hey Bolton, time for my lunch break. Got what you need back there?"

In reply, all I heard was some low muttering as Roger cursed under his breath about someone 'sodding up the straps'. Taking a step around the Atlas, I saw the sniper fish out a Hemlock BF-R from a stuffed gun bag. Loading a magazine and checking to see if it was properly loaded and functioning, he nodded back at me as he went through the motions of adjusting the spring loaded sights.

"Just about finished."

Of course, while my 'lunch' only consisted of a few power bars and a lot of sips from my canteen, it was enough get my stomach to shut up for the next hour or so. My 'break' however was what held precedence. Walking over to my Strider, while pointedly ignoring the stares I was getting from the walled city's inhabitants. Keying the command for my Titan to crouch down to give me access to the kit bags that were strapped its back; I quickly located the ones that held the spare weapons and ammo. Grabbing a handful of R-101 magazines and stuffing them into my combat webbing, I made some mental estimations and a small rundown of the ordnance that was at my disposal.

One Archer Heavy Rocket Launcher.

One R-97 Compact Submachine Gun.

Two bandoliers worth of hand grenades, both of the Arc and Fragmentation variety.

And what was this?

Quickly undoing the straps to what was at first glance, looked like a longer, blued version of my carbine, I was pleasantly surprised at the sight of my heavily customized Longbow Designated Marksman Rifle. The original long barrel was swapped out with a shorter one that came with an integral suppressor. To counterbalance the need for possible double-taps, a stabilizer was also fitted and to top it off, a 4.5X optic was mounted to the rifle's scope rail. Checking the magazines that came along with the weapon, I was somewhat discouraged at the amount of ammunition that was provided. One hundred and seventeen rounds was the usual for a full combat mission load, but for an extended long-range recon mission like ours, combined with the resilience of the giants?

Replacing the long rifle back into the bag, I chose to take a gander at the lighter R-97 SMG. If the brief warnings from Commander Erwin that were given to us after the battle were to be believed, the true foes that me and Roger had to look out for was not the titans we faced today, but rather they were soldiers like that of the Garrison Corp and Recon Legions.

The Military Police Brigade.

Commonly known by their unicorn insignias and better known for their easy living within the inner walls of the capital, it wasn't too hard to imagine that some corruption was in the works of what was practically the hand of the government. Hell, one of the reasons the Titan Wars started in the first place was that a couple of company men just wanted to make more credits while putting in a good word with the Inner Core governments. Due to the high level of authority and funding the Military Police had, any illicit activity and crime possible was vulnerable to exploitation by the very people that was supposed to prevent it.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to ask much more before Smith and Levi had to go debrief with most of their division, leaving me and Roger with a handful of scouts, a lot more nervous Garrison members and f-ton of wide-eyed cadets that managed to survive the battle.

Speaking of the Military Police…

"Oi Nguyen. We got a snag here. Might want to finish what you're doing, yesterday" Bolton radioed to me. Quickly securing my spare weapons to my Stryder, I clicked the safety of my SMG to full-auto as I made my way back to Roger. The tone in his voice, especially in his last word was worrying. Toggling my Titan's AI to follow mode, the gangly mech began to trail after me to my former post.

When we arrived, Bolton had, unfortunately, started the hostilities…er…hospitalities without me. A group of MPs had shown up, their appearance distinct from the rest of the military personal. Their unicorn patches and archaic muskets were a dead giveaway, as well as their lack of 3DM gear that the Garrison and Scouts were still wearing. There were ten in total, with their lead being a slightly bearded man who looked like he had just been woken from a nap. He spoke in a low tone to Roger, as if he was making demands of a sort. For what those demands were, I would learn soon.

"We can either come with you peacefully and with all our arms, or we can all still go, without your heads" Roger threatened as he leveled the Hemlock rifle at the sergeant's noggin.

My Smart Pistol had already locked on the rest of the squad of flunkies that had just unslung their flintlock rifles to take aim, with my R-97 braced against my hip, ready to fire on the squad leader. However, their hesitance to fire lay in the two Titans that were posted behind us. As their IFF sensors began to detect hostility, both Atlas and Stryder took aim with enough firepower to waste the Military police team several times over.

The squad leader eyes shifted between the two of us (four, if you wanted to count the Titans) before he raised one of his hands to signal the stand down.

Finally, someone with a lick of common sense.

Of course, the rest of the MPs didn't look too happy. If it wasn't for the oversized auto-cannon and chaingun our mechs had, they would've argued, and perhaps, outright disobey, judging from the looks on their faces. More than one of them was raring to re-aim and pull the trigger on us. Hel, it was easier to pick out the ones that knew better.

With a breath of hesitance, the squad leader replied.

"Fine, but my orders are to at least escort the senor rank of your…unit, if you so please" the last words he stated as if he had just tasted the salad that could be found in the Red-Eye's mess-hall.

I took a step forward, but alas, deception was not in old man Rog's cards at the moment.

"You're looking right at him, bub" he said with the motion of his arm blocking my way. Simultaneously, his Atlas lowered its chaingun into the ready-low position. Even with its weapon lowered, the Titan was still threatening looking, its humanoid profile squared and undaunting.

The MP Sergeant seemed to have caught on with Roger's intentions, quickly adding on another proposition.

"I insist, however, to leave your machines behind. For the sake of not causing panic among the populace, of course"

Quickly swapping a sideways glance with Roger, I only grunted in return.

"Yeah, of course. For the people yeah?"

The corner of my visor began to ping orange again.

Petra was riding fast. For the sake of not only her beloved captain, but for the sake of what sanity and hope was left for the human race. No pursuers, titan or otherwise was chasing her or her horse, but it was still a race against them. Men that wore official, black suits and equipped with what was the worst, anti-titan 3DM gear money can buy.

The reason being that the 3DM gear was meant to be used against humans.

Who these men were, none but Erwin and Levi had the slightest of suspicions. As to what they were after? Well, it goes without saying that word travels fast throughout the Walls, especially among those in the military, whether they were Garrison (especially Garrison) or the Military Police. The Recon Corps was a different matter entirely, of course. Needless to say, the story of men that descended from the sky in house-sized suits of armor was bound to draw unwanted attention.

Cursing under her breath as she commanded her steed to take a hard left turn that had almost trampled a civilian, Petra wished how much more assuring it would be if she had her 3DM gear with her.

Instead, her hope lied within her own skill…and that of the rest of the squad.

She could only pray that they were not too late.

Well, someone pick-up the phone.

Cause I fucking called it.

All around me was a cacophony of sporadic gunfire and angry yells. My only solid companion in the chaos was my R-97, the pistol-caliber rounds piercing through the smoke in a crude cone of heat and metal, taking down a trio of goons that tried to ambush me in the alley. I had to admit though; they were dressed pretty spiffy for a group of hitmen.

It had all began when the MPs led Bolton down the main road of the town for a couple of blocks before taking a turn into what was probably 'Ass-End of Nowhere' Avenue, well known for its kidnappings and backdoor dealings. The squad leader had left two of his lackeys behind to keep an eye on me just in case I would get too curious.

It drew a lot of looks from the rest of the Wall garrison, but before either anyone (myself included) asked what was going on, a bald, mustached gentleman showed up ordering everyone to start mobilizing. The general looked pretty drunk from a distance, but as I caught his glance towards my direction, there was a sign of curiosity…and suspicion.

Suspicion that was not towards me or the Titans exactly.

The MP babysitters that I was stuck with made no motion to move as the hundred-some military personal left the town-square, many giving us backward glances as they marched out. The handfuls of scouts were the last to leave, their hesitance due to leaving what was a new ally to the Military Police's mercy.

I watched them all leave through a blue and orange world, which was the reason why I proceeded to grab the closest MP to me and smash his head into his partner's. Yanking out my Data Knife, I proceed to smack both of them with the flat of the blade, all the while squeezing the red trigger that was in the blade's handle. Electricity discharged from the blade, shocking their nervous systems into unconsciousness.

Raising my R-97 to the rooftops, I waited.

Just as predicted, a well-dressed man, equipped with what was a variant of the 3DM gear burst over the building, taking aim with a pair of what was probably the hand-cannon version of a flintlock pistol.

A burst from my submachine gun put an end to that notion.

As his corpse fell to the ground, a pounding of feet began to round the corner, but my Stryder was quick to step forward, its energy shield deflecting the barrage of fire in my direction. Taking a spare glace as they reloaded their weapons, I noted the detachable barrels that were mounted on their thighs and how their 3DM gear was configured, almost like a jetpack. My Titan was quick to retaliate, firing a continuous burst from its XO-16, catching one of the agents in the head. Unlike the half-wits I knocked out, the other four were smart enough to split, taking to the rooftops.

The sound of more people dropping down at my end of the street alerted me to the presence of the second team. Snaking one hand into my combat harness, I quickly pulled and activated a smoke grenade and threw it at them. Some of them noticed the device and were quick to take cover behind some crates lest the device was lethal. The rest were treated to the sudden bang and poof of black smoke that immediately clogged their vision and sent them all into coughing fits.

Sprinting forward, I reactivated my Echo Vision, all the while squeezing the trigger down my R-97, data knife still in hand as I steadied the weapon with the forward grip. I had not bothered aiming, the rounds scattering all across the alley, killing a few and wounding the rest of the hitmen that weren't in cover. The SMG had a notorious rate of fire however, the magazine running dry before I managed to put a foot on the wall. Dropping the weapon to rest to side, courtesy of its sling, I pulled my Smart Pistol from its chest holster. Since I began my wall run, I had a better shot at the hostiles behind the crates, now that I was up and to the side of them. Manually aiming the pistol, I stroked the trigger five times, raining a burst of leaded death on their heads. The last man that was all the way in the back of the team had just gotten a bead on me, discharging a duo of rounds that would have pulped a good chunk of my torso. With a swift kick off the wall and a boost of my jumpkit, I pounced towards him, data knife aimed right under his collarbone.

He was too slow to back off and as he fell under my flying weight, he yelped with a dying "GACK!" and the sound of breaking ribs.

Too bad they weren't mine.

Returning my knife to sheathe, I took off once more, while keying the follow command for my Titan.

All the while this was happening Roger's Atlas took off, barely stopping to open fire on any assassin that got too close. However, before I could get my fellow Pilot on the line, a trail of bullet holes began to trail after my feet. Taking it as a good sign to hit the rooftops I did just that. Being above the smoke and shadows of the narrow street, I disabled my Echo vision but in turn of activating my cloak. Yells of shock and surprise came from the hostiles all around, but they were quick to react, opening fire where they would anticipate my position. However, years of dealing with panicking IMC jackboots with automatic shotguns and rifles made me know better. Tucking my head down, I rolled under the fire, coming right up into a female agent in the middle of reloading. Giving a quick-jab to the throat and a heavy pistol whip to the head, I was able to grapple my target into the standard headlock.

The blur of actions and the rough jostling due to my CQC disrupted and disabled my cloak revealing my presence to the rest of the attackers.

"Who are you?!" I yelled out, pistol shoved against the woman's throat. The crazy bat had tried to struggle, but another pistol whip to the head made her think otherwise.

A tall, lone man stepped forward, his appearance notable, thanks to the black bowler hat he wore and the wrinkly face. A serious, seemingly permanent scowl was complimented with what was a familiar pair of criminal looking eyes. This guy was old and unshaven, and was probably matched with Roger's age. Strangely, despite of his pistols, he was playing with a wicked knife.

"Peace, I an official for the King. Surely where you come from, you have heard of something called diplomacy? Keeping a woman hostage is not what how civilized men talk" Despite of his statement, there was an underlying tone that did not sit right with me, as if he could care less to what would happen to his subordinate. I took another glance at his eyes.

The gaze of a cold-blooded killer met my own. It was a gaze where he was unburdened by common morals and laws. And if he had to murder his way to his goals, even better.

"You're right," I replied as I leveled the pistol at his head, "This is how we talk out in the Frontier."

That was a mistake that went both ways. My hostage, now literally, no longer under the gun, fired a zipline from right under her integrated one-shot pistols, in an attempt to reel herself away and deprive me of cover. However, I did not bother resisting, letting her go with my free hand to better steady my aim. I backpedaled away, all the while trying to snap off the rest of MK5 pistol's magazine. All seven rounds flew free and clear, keeping the officials' heads down. By the time they returned fire, I had reached to the edge of the rooftop ready to take a flying leap.

Only to have one of their bullets smack me right into my temple, turning my vision to black as I fell towards the ground.

The wind blurred past Roger's ears like a whip, pumping his senses with adrenaline as he gripped his RE-45 autopistol in its holster, his other hand currently gripping the saddle on the horse he was sharing. Like the Red Sea, civilians parted and panicked to the side, narrowly getting trampled by the steed.

"Any sign of them?" a certain, ginger-haired scout yelled out behind her as she gripped the reins.

Peering out from under the hood of traveling cloak he was loaned, the blazing blue optics of his goggles gave him the brief appearance of a vengeful spirit as they flew down the street. Tugging the hood over his head more to shadow his helm, he simply answered.

"No. We're in the clear. Take the right turn, three blocks up ahead. My Titan should be there on standby."

A further distance than it should have been, but as soon Roger gave his Military Police escorts the slip, he led them on a merry chase that, as if luck would have it, intercepted one of Levi's team members. Dress in a simple dress shirt and riding trousers, all complimented with a scarf too big, Petra Ral, look more like a distance traveler than a Recon Corps scout. A simple black cloak was "acquired" by Roger during his chase, and by the time the Military Police team rounded the corner, they were stunned at the man's sudden disappearance, paying little heed to what was seemingly a young woman who was transporting her gravely, ill father back home.

"How did you guys know to look for us?"

"Our Corporal said he saw someone familiar during the hearing and debrief. Someone that was asking questions about you two. After that, Levi began tasking a few of us in the Recon Corps to keep an eye out. Hanji had spotted a group of well-dressed men and women with unprecedented authority in the Military Police. Whoever they were, they were questioning other officers at the Battle of Trost. We had suspected them to make their move later on this week but…" Petra spoke hesitantly, "…They were talks. Of purging the entire military divisions."

Raising his goggles, Roger gave the young woman a questioning look.

"They wouldn't be that daft would they? How would they even fill the ranks then? There would kids with us on that day for crying out loud" he harshly whispered.

"It was just an offhanded comment. But the way they said it…it was so cold. Professional. They opted to take your technology by force."

"Shite, they probably moving to find Nguyen. We need to find him, now."

"Bozado and Schultz are out there looking for him. But we need to get you as far and out of town as possible. Your machines will make things difficult, however."

"You don't understand do ya, shelia? There was a reason why Garrett was our assigned demolitions expert. As for getting the Titans out of town, I just happen to have the solution for that."

Hollow point rounds? Really?!

Well, considering how I only got away with chipped paint on my helmet and a somewhat wounded pride, I'm not going to complain too much.

But…ow.

Before I went splat on the pavement, a large, mechanical hand caught me in the nick of time, before unceremoniously throwing me into the cockpit.

A reason why I usually go for Stryder Titans. They're good at getting to places on time.

Blips of red began to appear on my radar, indicating the team of hostiles that ran to the edge of the roof to see how well I went splat. The fully loaded XO-16 chaingun was there instead to greet them.

20mm slugs lit up the air, scattering the hitmen. While a handful of them fell to the 1.6 inch slugs, the lead man, marked by his fancy hat, was quick on his feet, diving backwards from the edge. Those that survived began to take off with their 3DM gear, but I didn't bother sticking around, firing off my Titan's smoke launchers.

"Misfit Lead to Two, please tell you didn't make much of a mess."

Grinning at my mentor's sudden comment I replied,

"Good to hear from you too, Lead. Got a waypoint for me?"

"Right here, edge of town. Bish was kind enough to get us a pair of captured IMC cloaking drones for our Titans. These buggers got a cloak of their own, won't last too long, but they'll get us through the inner gate just fine."

"On my way, Misfit Two out."

Author's Notes: And a word(s) from the Author: And I'm baaack! Phew. The original plan was to get a couple of chapters done or near done so I can release them in a daily "burst". Usually, I would have the next couple of chapters or so done or near done, but that will not be the case here, unfortunately. However, this story is long overdue an update and I guess a pulse of life to indicate that it is still ongoing will do it some good. Fair warning, next update might just be as long. T_T So to get to the excuses of the extended hiatus, I had:

1. Rough time at college

2. A newfound addiction to Warframe (Tormound, you can attest to this…)

3. Rampant plot bunny (Again, damn you Warframe. And I guess League of Legends while I'm at it, except I don't play it as much)

4. General laziness…what? Don't look at me like that!

5. "How the hell do you write politics?!" AKA writer's block

6. "Hmm…when is season 3 coming out for Attack on Titan, oh hey look RWBY!" (AKA ADDD or ADHD? HDTV?)

7. Potato addiction. Again, blame Warframe. (Got over it, but now trying to deal with gold, puzzle piece addiction)

8. Summer classes (Oh gee, I wonder how that happen?!)

So what got me to back to writing again:

1. The nagging voice in my head.

2. Ironically enough, non-SnK anime and manga. Kudos to Gate: And Thus the JSDF Fought There, , and Fairy Tail of all things.

3. "Frak the politics, I am got to shoot something."

4. "I have an outline for this unfinished project…maybe I should get back to that."

5. Live action movie for Attack on Titan…hngh.

6. Last but not least, to all the followers and favs that encourages me to continue this story. I plan to see this to the end…but worst case scenario (as in if I died O_O'), hopefully a buddy of mine IRL will continue this…although I highly doubt it since he rather sit on his lazy arse and watch me type. :/ Thanks bud.

On a serious note, I assure you that I WILL NOT abandon this story…it's just probably going to take a LOOOOOOOOONNNNNNGGGGGG ass time to update. I wasn't joking when I had a bad case of random plot bunny (Warframe X League of Legends crossover, since I hear Riot is retconning their Institute of War lore shtick and both universes have Void schenigans. Also the new League cinematics from a New Dawn and onward were pretty impressive and the bunny is rambling again. STAHP. *Pulls out Dragon Nikana aka Space Weaboo Katana*)

…

See what I mean?

Anyway for the customary reviewer reply and I guess you few PMing weirdos too. JK I love you all the same…not really, since I just had a bad case of time traveling kids (Fire Emblem: Awakening anyone?)

Watchman807: Aye mate, this yarn ain't done till the (40mm auto)-cannons sing 'em to sleep!

The Digger92: I had an actual brownie, but ate it. Full of gluten. Sorry bud.

A fan: Well to answer your very belated questions, no, Garrett was never unconcerned about others, but he did kinda live in his own metaphorical bubble on the Frontier planet that he was raised on. Until the IMC decided to poke around off course.

As for noticing that Garrett outwardly losing his cool, there was a comment that one of the NPC grunts in the Titanfall game that killing someone with a Titan is very impersonal and disconnected like modern UAV military pilots. Going off of this I kinda want to portray that when Garrett is in a Titan, he channels whatever emotions he got in his head into the actions of his of "armor". The reason why he doesn't seem too express much rage or emotion in a war machine is that's because he has all that proverbial steel and fury at his fingertips. Kinda like the stereotypical, stoic, otaku gamer huh? However, he isn't the straight up B-type personality that I am, so when he's out of the cockpit and off the battlefield, he gets a bit livelier around strangers and friends. Hence that's why he was the go-to for talking with the Survey Corps when they encountered each other. And is quite the snarker to boot. Fluff wise, yeah Garrett has a waning bit of optimism, framed with a good amount of cynicism. Speaking from personal experience, it does wonders to one's soul when you have someone to share and nurture that optimism with, romantically or not.

As for Sasha helping him out with 3DM and non-Titan skills…well, let's just say your suggestion was quite welcome for the next chapters to come.

Except using a bow. Since Garrett already has one that he already owns. A Longbow Designated Marksman Rifle to be exact. :P (I kid, I kid)

Downhillrabbit6: Love you too bud. Guess we can just call it bromance? On a serious note, thank you.

DeathAdder47117: For the Emperor! For none shall find us wanting! (Sorry, for W40K, I just love the Blood Ravens/Magpies kleptomania) Although I do believe a Tech-Priest or two might start disagreeing with the stuff this story is using to say the least…or I could just chalk the Titan AI up to be a machine spirit when the Inquisition stops by…

As a story preview and summary, and possible spoilers for those who haven't read the manga (or the wiki, if you're a scrub like me) Garrett and Roger just had an early encounter with the Anti-Human Suppression Squad. Like, 3 seasons early. Now hunted by the Inner government of the Walls, the Survey Corps takes another big risk by secretly sheltering them…