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Survey corps headquarters…
It had been hours; four, to be precise; since Levi had 'visited' the two unmasked impostors; "Ray" and "Foss"; down here, currently bound to iron chairs bolted into the stone, and begun the methodical process of peeling away their lies. The room echoed with the remnants of their defiance: ragged breaths, the occasional wet cough, the drip-drip-drip of blood pooling beneath their seats. Levi stood before them, the apron he wore speckled with crimson flecks that weren't his own (Of course he would wear that, rather not get your hands dirty), his grey eyes boring into the men like drills.
The confiscation room beneath the Survey Corps headquarters was a forgotten crypt, buried deep in the stone bowels where no windows were available nor mercy; just four damp walls of unyielding rock. A single oil lamp hung from a rusted chain in the center, its flame guttering low, casting elongated shadows that danced like mocking specters across the blood-streaked floor. The scent was a nauseating brew: iron-sharp blood, acrid sweat, and the underlying rot of despair that clung to everything like mold.
Erwin had been here earlier, his questions precise and probing, but he'd left to coordinate the response to the infiltrators' revelations. Now, it was just Levi, alone with the broken shells of men who had dared to wear the faces of his comrades.
"Ray"; or whatever the hell his real name was; slumped in his chair, his once-defiant face a ruined canvas. His left eye was swollen shut, a purple-black bruise blooming across his cheek like a rotten fruit. Blood trickled from a split lip, and his nose was crooked, bent from an earlier "adjustment" courtesy of Levi's boot. His breaths came in wet, rattling gasps, each one bubbling with the coppery tang of internal bleeding. His companion, "Foss," fared no better: one arm hung limp, the shoulder dislocated with a sickening pop hours ago, his fingers twisted at unnatural angles from where Levi had methodically crushed them under his heel. His chest rose and fell unevenly, ribs likely cracked, and a deep gash across his forehead wept steadily, the blood crusting in dark rivulets down his face.
Levi circled them slowly, his boots leaving faint, bloody prints on the stone. The cloth in his hand; once white, now stained; was twisted into a makeshift garrote, but he hadn't used it yet. Not fully. He stopped in front of "Ray," tilting his head slightly, as if appraising a particularly stubborn stain.
"Last chance," Levi said, his voice a low, emotionless drawl that carried more menace than any shout. "Where's the real squad? The ones you replaced. Rolf, Lya, Ray, Foss…they're dead, aren't they? Bodies dumped somewhere convenient. Tell me where, and maybe you keep what's left of your teeth."
"Ray" lifted his head with agonizing slowness, his good eye gleaming with a feverish, almost delirious light. Despite the pain, a smirk tugged at his mangled lips, splitting the scab and sending fresh blood dribbling down his chin. He spat a glob of it at Levi's feet; pink and frothy, laced with flecks of shattered enamel.
"You... think this is about bodies?" he rasped, his voice a wet gurgle, each word bubbling through the blood pooling in his mouth. "You're dumber than you look, shorty. This purge... it's bigger than you. Bigger than this pathetic hole you call a military branch."
Levi's expression didn't change, but the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The impostor's defiance was a spark in dry tinder, and Levi was the flint. He stepped closer, his presence a suffocating weight.
"Ray" leaned forward as much as his bonds allowed, his swollen face twisting into a grotesque parody of a grin. Teeth glinted in the lamplight; some cracked, others missing, gaps oozing dark blood. "We are the hammer of judgment. The cosmos spits out filth like that beast, and we cleanse it. You Scouts... you're just ants scrambling before the boot comes down. Nosy, meddling ants who—"
He never finished.
Levi moved like smoke; silent, inevitable. His boot lashed out in a precise, upward arc, connecting with "Ray's" jaw with a sound like wet wood splintering. CRACK. The impact snapped "Ray's" head back, his teeth clashing together with brutal force. Shards of enamel flew like shrapnel, mixed with fresh sprays of blood that arced through the air and spattered the wall behind him. "Ray" let out a choked, gurgling scream, his body convulsing against the restraints as pain exploded through his skull. His mouth filled with the coppery flood of his own blood, mingled with the gritty shards of his shattered molars grinding against his tongue.
Levi stepped back, wiping his boot on the stone floor with casual disdain, as if he'd just stepped in mud. "I don't have time for this bullshit," he said, his voice still flat, untouched by the violence. "Answer the question right, and you'll still get some teeth intact." He paused, tilting his head. "Even if most of the front rows are nothing but utter shit now."
"Ray" slumped forward, blood pouring from his ruined mouth in thick, stringy ropes that pooled on his lap and dripped to the floor with rhythmic plops. His breaths came in wet, hitching sobs, each one bubbling through the wreckage of his jaw. Fragments of teeth clung to his lips like broken pearls, and when he tried to speak, it came out as a slurred, agonized mumble, flecks of enamel spitting out with every word.
"Y-you... b-bastard..." he gurgled, his good eye watering from the pain. But beneath the agony, that feverish gleam remained; a fanatic's fire that no amount of torture could extinguish. He lifted his head with Herculean effort, blood streaming down his chin like a grotesque beard.
"Th-the real squad... th-they're... f-food for the b-beast now. B-but th-that's n-nothin'... c-campared to wh-what's c-comin'."
Levi's eyes narrowed to slits, the first flicker of real impatience cracking his stoic mask. He grabbed "Ray" by the hair, yanking his head back to force eye contact. The motion elicited a fresh whimper, the pain radiating through "Ray's" shattered jaw like fire. "The hell are you talking about? Spit it out, while you still can."
"Ray" laughed then, a wet, choking sound that sprayed blood across Levi's apron, staining the already stained clothing with crimson speckles. The laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his body shaking, but when it subsided, his voice was clearer, laced with malicious triumph despite the slur.
"Y-you S-Scouts... s-so nosy... m-messin' with th-things th-that d-don't concern you. Th-the squad y-you're c-concerned about... I'm s-sure th-the ones h-headin' to th-the cadet corps w-would add to th-the bodies." He grinned through the blood, his shattered teeth a macabre mosaic.
"Th-the purge... h-has begun. Y-your p-precious S-Squad Leader Z-Zoë... and h-her little t-team... th-they're r-riding straight into h-hell. And wh-when th-they burn... y-you'll know. Th-the F-Forever Knights... w-we w-win."
Dread crashed over Levi like a tidal wave; cold, suffocating, absolute. His grip on "Ray's" hair tightened involuntarily, eliciting a pained yelp. The pieces slammed together in his mind: Hange's frantic departure for the 103rd, the impostors' infiltration, this talk of a "purge." It wasn't just about the beast. It was a trap. A setup. And Hange was galloping right into it.
"You son of a—" Levi's voice was a venomous whisper, his face inches from "Ray's." The impostor's eyes gleamed with fanatic glee, even as fresh blood bubbled from his lips.
"G-Go on," "Ray" gurgled, his words slurring through the wreckage of his mouth. "K-Kill me. I-It w-won't s-save th-them. Th-the squad... th-the c-cadets... th-they're a-all p-part of th-the c-cleansing. Y-you c-can't s-stop it. Th-the d-door... i-it's o-open. And wh-what's c-coming th-through... w-will d-drown y-you all."
Levi released him with a shove, "Ray's" head snapping back against the chair with a thud. He turned, his body a statue of barely contained fury, and stalked toward the door. "Erwin needs to hear this. Now."
But before he could leave, "Foss"; silent until now; let out a low, broken chuckle. His dislocated shoulder hung at an unnatural angle, the joint swollen and purple, bones grinding audibly with every breath. Blood from his forehead gash had crusted over one eye, leaving him half-blind, and a deep gash across his thigh wept steadily, the wound gaping like a ragged mouth, exposing the white gleam of bone beneath layers of torn flesh and sinew.
"Y-you... c-can't s-stop it," "Foss" rasped, his voice a wet wheeze through cracked ribs. "From a higher purpose. From the Divine order itself. The purge... it's divine. The cosmic blight from the stars... must be cleansed."
Levi paused at the door, his back to the room. The words hung in the air, a promise of something vast and incomprehensible. He didn't turn. "Divine?" he echoed, his tone mocking, devoid of mercy. "Your 'god' must be a real piece of work if this is what he inspires." He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes cold as death. "But go on. Keep preaching. It'll make killing you slower."
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the impostors in the flickering lamplight. "Ray" sagged in his chair, his body a tapestry of agony; shattered jaw throbbing like a second heartbeat, blood filling his mouth in coppery waves that made every swallow a fresh hell. "Foss" wheezed beside him, his twisted arm screaming with every involuntary twitch, the exposed bone glistening wetly in the low light, nerves firing like live wires.
Levi moved through the corridors like a shadow, his mind a storm of calculations. Hange was out there, oblivious, riding into a trap woven by shadows within their own ranks. The dread coiled tighter in his gut; dread for her, for the scouts, for the fragile web of trust that had just been torn apart.
Chapter 26-31 are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.