He stared down at the Carcano M91 nestled comfortably in his lap. This rifle had been with him through thick and thin, since he was a child; he’d been given the weapon upon entering his candidacy to become a Warrior, and had refused to trade it out for a newer model ever since. This Carcano gleamed in the dim light of the window, looking as fresh as the day it was manufactured; Reiner had taken thorough care of the firearm, cleaning, maintaining, and repairing it when needed. If there was anything he knew in this world, it was how to take care of his gun.
He’d spent most of his life caring for this machine, and now he was going to do so one final time. He took his cleaning rag from the nearby table and, straightening in his chair, he began his final task.
It was times like these, when he had no urgent mission at hand, when his mind wandered… often into dark places. No; always into dark places. He couldn’t remember a time when he had nothing but happy memories. Not a single goddamn time. The only period of his life where he’d come close to happiness was… his time as a soldier. When his mind was so blissfully and irreparably split in two, and he’d been convinced that he really was one of them. But of course, it had all been a lie.
Oftentimes he felt like his whole life had been a lie. A big, cruel joke played by fate for her own entertainment. Is it funny yet? He wondered. Which part was the funniest? Was it the part where I betrayed the people who trusted me; the part where my best friend was eaten; the part where my head got blown off; the part where I found out my niece was following in my footsteps…
Or maybe it was the day I was born. That was nothing but a fucking joke, too, wasn’t it?
Golden eyes found themselves blurring with tears and he hastily blinked them away, looking up from his weapon at the empty room around him. There was nothing to accompany him into the afterlife except for bland cream-colored walls and an empty desk in the corner. No teary-eyed family members, no wife to plead for him to stop, no friends to take the gun away. He was alone. Hadn’t he always been?
The eyes of his mother filled his mind; those pleading, desperate golden eyes that mirrored his own. How she’d wanted so badly for him to make her proud, how she’d had such conviction that the Eldians on Paradis were monsters to be eliminated. Reiner had been so sure of that as a child, and only now did he fully realize that his mother had been projecting her own desires and justifications onto him. Because of her, he’d sacrificed everything to go destroy the monsters. Only, when he’d arrived there, he’d found that they weren’t monsters after all. They were people… just like him. Just like her. Just like the Marleyans. People who had descended from wrong-doers, maybe; but the sins of their ancestors didn’t mean they were villains themselves.
The real sinner was him. He was the one who’d killed thousands of innocent people. He was the one who’d let his friends die just because he’d been told to. He was the one who had caused terror in the hearts of children. Did the Eldians deserve to die?
No. He did.
He loved his mother, and he always would, but she had caused irreparable damage. Was she at fault for his current state of mind? No… but she was the inspiration for it.
Reiner thought of Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Krista, Ymir, and the others; all the Cadets he’d gone through training with, other soldiers that had shared their lives with him while he’d deceived every single one of them, killing their families and destroying their homes. They’d trusted him, and now they knew what a piece of shit he was. Everyone knew. Even his niece Gabi knew – but the worst part was that she hailed him as a hero. In fact, all the new Warrior candidates did – and a lot of the Marleyan citizens did, too. “Good morning, Vice Commander Braun!” a postman had said as he passed by on the street the day before. “Good morning, our Warriors!”
Bullshit. ‘Warrior’ wasn’t an honorable title; it was bait for young children to be brain-washed into doing the government’s dirty work.
Among the people that had trusted him was Krista Lenz (or Historia as he’d found out later), a girl so angelic he’d had a long-time crush on her; for a time he hadn’t been sure whether that crush was genuine or if it remained solely a consequence of his soldier persona. When he thought back on it, and he did, very often, he thought yes; it was real. But it really didn’t matter now, did it? He didn’t deserve her love, or even her kindness. Even a lawless vagabond like Ymir deserved Historia’s affection more than he did. None of that mattered now. He would have — and be — nothing, soon.
We were just kids… we didn’t know anything. If only we never heard that these bastards existed, we wouldn’t have become these half-hearted pieces of shit.
They were kids. Reiner, Annie, Bertholdt… and Marcel…
He’d been responsible for Marcel’s death. Porco had never forgiven him for it. Reiner didn’t blame him. And Annie… well, she’d made her own choice; but she had only been a kid, just like the rest of them. There was always something about Annie that was a little different – a little stronger – but in the end she’d made her own choice. Reiner wished he could’ve done the same. Or, maybe he could’ve; he wished he would’ve.
And Bertholdt…
If Reiner has any friends at all in this miserable thing he called his life, it was Bertholdt. Until he learned why Marcel had vouched for him to receive the Armored, he’d thought Marcel was his closest friend; but no. Marcel was willing to put Reiner on the line to save his brother. And Reiner couldn’t blame him. And in a sick twist of fate, Marcel had been the one to die, and now Porco had taken his place. Ironic.
But Bertholdt has put his life on the line for Reiner time and again, and in the end, fate had finally won. He could still remember the pain of Shiganshina. The pain of losing his only friend. Bertholdt had been eaten. Annie was hidden away in her crystal. And Reiner was truly alone.
Alone.
Reiner took the Carcano into his hands and turned it so that the muzzle was pointed upward, the butt of the weapon touching the ground. Spreading his legs a bit, he grabbed the barrel with one hand while the other reached down until his fingers brushed the trigger guard. There. When he went to tilt the rifle so that the muzzle was just below his chin, Reiner found himself trembling.
Was it fear, or anticipation?
The bolt handle was already turned and a round was in the chamber, waiting. The safety was off. The gun was silent and unmoving, but Reiner felt the odd sensation that it was watching him expectantly, as if asking, “well, what are you waiting for? Use me.”
Reiner licked suddenly dry lips, his heart hammering in his chest. Into the mouth, aim for the base of the brain. No more regeneration. No more pain.
Do it.
Sweat dripped down his forehead and with quivering, calloused hands he moved the gun and opened his mouth. The barrel fit snugly inside his mouth, as if it belonged there. As if his whole life was a build-up for this moment. Reiner’s eyes rolled back into his head and his lower hand went to the trigger, applying a hint of pressure.
I’ll see you soon, Bertholdt, and you too, Marcel, he thought. Everyone I’ve killed… vengeance will finally be yours.
WHAP.
“Fuck,” a young voice said from outside the window. The noise had been his first hitting the wall behind Reiner. His eyes went wide as he recognized the owner of the voice. After a brief moment, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and slowly removed the muzzle from his mouth. Staring down at it, he could see his own saliva coating the gleaming, cold metal.
Getting up, he turned and stared through the bars of the window, his eyes widening with realization. The gun suddenly felt foreign in his hand. “Falco…” Reiner murmured, feeling the burn of fresh, unbidden tears. “That’s right… I still… need to…”
“HOLD — STILL — “ Fixing his best friend’s mop of a head wasn’t easy and the tall, lanky warrior’s resistance wasn’t helping. Finally whacking the top of Bert’s head with his brush, Reiner insisted, “YOU’RE GOING TO MEET ANNIE AT THE BAR. EVEN IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU THERE.”
I seriously underestimated the Jaeger love when I put in my last order for charms. This is my last Zeke, and Eren’s going pretty quick too. I doubt I’m going to order any more of these in the future unless there’s a ton of demand. If you’re interested now, I still have ‘em for sale on my storenvy!
I’m not seeing anything that suggests this is OP’s art. It kinda looks like a fanfic cover edit of an original painting, so can someone confirm if OP painted this or point me to the original source? Thanks.
