Attack on Titan: Wolfborn

Chapter XXIII: Right in Plain Sight

Metal restraints. The smell of antiseptic. The cold bite of needles. A voice, distant but insistent:

"Help me..."

She jerked awake, sheets twisted around her legs like bindings. For a moment, the nightmare's clinical smell lingered, mixing with memories of underground chambers and muffled screams. But this time, the screams weren't hers.

"Oh look, sleeping beauty's finally joining us!" Hitch's voice cut through the darkness, deliberately cheerful. "What was it this time? The one where you're fighting shadows, or the one where you keep muttering that girl's name?"

Annie's head snapped toward her roommate, who was already dressed and preening before their small mirror. Dawn light caught on Hitch's carefully styled hair, each strand arranged in practiced disarray.

"I don't talk in my sleep." Annie's voice remained flat as she disentangled herself from the sheets, but her heart was still racing. The image wouldn't fade – Anja strapped to some examination table, needles glinting in torchlight...

"Please," Hitch rolled her eyes, adjusting her uniform collar for the third time. "You're like my own personal theater every night. Though lately it's been more tragedy than comedy." She spun around, and struck a dramatic pose. "'Where are you?' 'What are you doing to her?' Very mysterious. Kinda weird, but hey you do you."

Annie reached under her pillow, checking that her notebook was still in place. The pages were filled with what appeared to be mundane daily observations, each entry meticulously dated and arranged in her precise handwriting.

"Ooh, writing love letters?" Hitch materialized over her shoulder as Annie quickly tucked the notebook away. "Come on, you can tell me! Is it that handsome guy from your group? The freckled one? Or maybe..." Her grin turned wicked. "That mysterious someone you keep muttering about?"

"Personal space, Hitch." But the words lacked real bite. Let her think it was about boys. Better than her noticing the careful maps of patrol routes and guard rotations hidden in those pages. The Scout Regiment remained frustratingly elusive - despite a week of observation, she'd uncovered barely any useful information about their plans.

"You know what your problem is?" Hitch flopped onto her perfectly made bed, somehow managing to avoid wrinkling her uniform. "You think too much. We made it! Military Police, a cushy life in the interior. Relax a little!" She studied Annie's reflection in the mirror. "Though I guess brooding does suit you. Deliciously dark and mysterious."

Annie tucked the notebook away and finished buttoning her uniform, movements mechanical as her mind worked through today's tasks. Where to check next? The archives had yielded nothing useful about recent Scout movements.

"Hello? Earth to Annie?" Hitch was already at the door, hands on hips. "Formation's starting!"

"Coming," Annie muttered, following her into the hallway. Its stone walls stretched long and shadowed, older than the walls that protected humanity. She caught glimpses of familiar faces – Marco and Jean down one corridor, both wearing the unicorn insignia of the Military Police. She kept her gaze forward. The mission had to come first. Had to.

Her thoughts turned to the day ahead. Another shift of patrols, more dead ends. The Scouts had gone quiet since Trost - no significant movements, no official communications, not even rumors about...

"Straighten up!" Sub-officer Aiblinger's sharp voice cut through her thoughts. The young man stood rigidly at attention, his uniform pressed to perfection - a stark contrast to their commanding officer who swayed behind him, clothes stained and eyes bloodshot from the previous night's excesses.

"Sm—Morning rookies," he slurred, squinting at a crumpled paper. "What's in it for today... hm, you. These are the orders. Make sure all tasks are completed. I will come back to... supervise later." He stumbled off, nearly colliding with a pillar.

"Now that's what I call leadership," Hitch whispered, barely containing her glee. "Can't wait to be an officer."

"Did you say something, Dreyse?"

"No sir! Just admiring the chain of command, sir!"

"Right." The sub-officer's smile promised future retribution. "All of you will be reporting to Lieutenant Klaus. Got a few jobs that you rookies can handle."

Annie was already turning to go when his next words froze her in place.

"Ah, not so fast, Dreyse. Freudenberg, Feulner and Weber – Captain Brandt wants a word."

Brandt. Annie's pulse quickened slightly. She'd seen that name in too many reports, tracked its movements through carefully gathered intelligence. The officer assigned to investigate the Trost 'incident'.

What could he want with someone like Hitch?

"Ooh, special assignment!" Hitch bumped Annie's shoulder as she passed. "Don't miss me too much, roomie. Try not to solve all of life's mysteries while I'm gone!"

Annie watched them leave, her hand unconsciously rubbing the weight of the ring on her finger. The assignment still lingered in her mind, but her thoughts were scattered, the unfamiliar sense of responsibility pressing down on her.

The barracks were quiet now, the bustle of her colleagues' chatter fading as she stepped into the crisp morning air. Above, dark shapes wheeled in the sky, their shadows stretching over the rooftops of Stohess like silent observers. The distant toll of bells echoed, signaling the shift from one task to the next.

The grand ballroom of the Stohess manor buzzed with activity as servants and Military Police rushed to prepare for the upcoming celebration. Annie adjusted another garland along one of the massive marble columns, the afternoon sun streaming through tall windows onto polished floors.

The noble district never failed to remind her how far she was from Trost's cramped streets and dark alleys. Here, even the air felt different - perfumed and pristine, carefully maintained like everything else.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" A caller's voice rang through the street. "Coming to Stohess - the Hero of Trost herself!" His cart rolled past the mansion, adorned with a portrait rendered in careful brushstrokes. Anja's face stared back at the crowd gathering around him, her expression determined but something missing in the eyes. Something Annie had learned to recognize during their training days.

"Starting the party without me?" Hitch appeared beside the column, noticing Annie's distraction. She squinted at the passing cart.

"Doesn't look very heroic to me. She looks too stiff," she mused, then turned to Annie with sudden curiosity. "Hey, wasn't she in your training corps? That girl everyone's talking about?"

"Just help me with this," Annie continued her work, letting Hitch's question hang unanswered in the air.

They worked in silence for a moment, Hitch humming some tune off-key. Around them, other MPs arranged tables and chairs with the same enthusiasm they brought to everything – minimal at best.

"Isn't this strange to you?" Annie finally asked, watching a senior officer berate a cadet for improper tablecloth placement.

"What? The fact that we spent two years in training, made the top of our classes to be elite soldiers only to end up as party planners?" Hitch grinned, adjusting a flower arrangement with exaggerated care. "Come on, this is the dream! Look at this place – nobility, fancy food, drinks, probably lots of handsome boys in formal wear..."

"That's not—" Annie paused, choosing her words carefully. "The best of the best, they said. The honor of serving in the interior. And yet..."

"Yet here we are, making sure Lord What's-His-Name's napkins are the right shade of cream?" Hitch laughed. "What more could you wish for?"

Annie's hands stilled on the garland. "What did Brandt want with you?"

"Oh..." For once, Hitch's perpetual smirk faltered. She glanced around nervously. "Just... routine stuff. About Trost."

"What about Trost?"

"My, my, aren't we curious today!" Hitch's voice wavered slightly. "We got pulled there, a few weeks ago. One of our first assignments."

"The lockdown..."

"Hmm." Hitch's usual energy drained away. "Place gave me the creeps. All those empty streets..." She fidgeted with her uniform. "Don't know how you could stand it..."

Annie kept arranging flowers, her movements steady but deliberate. "I was surprised the lockdown was called off early. Found nothing important then?"

"Well..." Hitch glanced around before lowering her voice. "We found something weird in the sewers. Some Scout specialist came to look at it - crazy looking one with glasses." She bit her lip. "Brandt ordered us not to talk about it."

"The Scouts were involved?"

"I shouldn't say anything. It's classified. I mean, even the Interior Squad showed up just after my meeting with—" Hitch caught herself, color draining from her face.

Annie's hands stilled imperceptibly.

"Oh, would you look at that!" Hitch suddenly straightened, her voice pitching higher as she backed away. "They're bringing out the Sina vintage!"

Annie watched her roommate flee toward the refreshments. Whatever they'd found in Trost there had rattled more than just Hitch. She would need to investigate herself.

Sunset cast long shadows across the mansion's marble floors as Jean slumped against a courtyard wall, his uniform jacket discarded despite Marco's occasional disapproving glances. They'd been at this since dawn - arranging furniture, hanging decorations, following endless instructions about proper placement of everything from chairs to candlesticks.

"You know what I imagined when I made top ten?" Jean stretched dramatically. "Definitely not spending my days making sure the tablecloths match the damn curtains."

Marco looked up from the guest list he'd been reviewing, with that characteristic warmth in his smile. "Come on, it's not that bad. We're part of something important here."

"Important?" Jean scoffed. "What's important about making sure the wine glass is exactly three inches from his plate?"

"These people fund the military, Jean. The whole reason we can maintain the walls—"

"Yeah, yeah, save the recruitment speech. I just... I don't know. I thought it'd be different."

"Different how? Having second thoughts?" Marco's tone was steady.

"Hey, I never said I regretted my choice!" Jean straightened indignantly. "Better arranging cutlery than ending up as titan breakfast like those Scout Regiment idiots."

His words trailed off as he noticed Annie by the mansion's gate, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, that same disinterested expression she'd worn throughout training.

"Speaking of weird choices..." Jean nodded in her direction. "What's her deal anyway?"

"Hmm?" Marco followed his gaze.

"Annie. Makes it into the top ten, gets this cushy interior posting, and she acts like she's at a funeral." Jean shook his head. "Hasn't said two words to any of us since we got here."

"Well, you know how she is." But Marco's usual smile had faded slightly. "But lately..."

"What, you think the mighty Annie Leonhart is finally cracking under the pressure of proper napkin folding?" Jean smirked. "Maybe she's realized her scary face doesn't work on tablecloths."

"Be serious for once." Marco's voice carried an unusual edge. "Haven't you noticed anything... odd? The way she disappears whenever officers are around, how she's always writing in that notebook of hers..."

 "Oh?" Jean nudged Marco with his elbow, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Keeping pretty close tabs on her, huh? Should I be worried? Or jealous?"

"It's not like that and you know it." Marco sighed, but Jean was already warming to the topic.

"No, no, I get it. The whole mysterious ice queen thing. Very appealing. I gotta say, your taste in women is almost as questionable as your dedication to the king."

Marco shot him a pointed look, crossing his arms. "Says the guy who spent two years drooling over Mikasa?"

"Hey! That's—" Jean's indignant reply cut short as he glanced back at the gate. "Where'd she go?"

The spot by the wall was empty. Annie had vanished as silently as a shadow at noon.

"See what I mean?" Marco's voice was quiet. "She does that. Just... disappears."

"Probably just found a better spot to slack off," Jean shrugged, but his attempt at humor fell flat against Marco's troubled expression. "Come on, what's really bothering you?"

"I don't know. It's just..." Marco hesitated. "She barely put in any effort during training, still made top ten. And now she's here, but it's like she couldn't care less about any of it."

"Well, not everyone's in love with the king like you are." Jean nudged his friend's shoulder. "Some people just want the easy life. Nothing wrong with that."

"Maybe." But Marco kept staring at the empty space where Annie had stood, something uncertain in his expression. "But then why would she..."

Night had settled over Stohess when Annie slipped away from her duties at the mansion. She made her way toward where she knew Brandt's office was located - a modest building near the military district. At this hour, the streets should have been quiet, but something was off. Military Police stood at strategic corners, their uniforms pristine, turning away the occasional passerby with excuses about maintenance work.

Annie circled the perimeter from the shadows, noting the positions of the guards. Their bearing was too proper, their attention too sharp for regular MPs. A deliberate screen to keep eyes away from what was happening inside.

She found her opening through a narrow alley between buildings. As she scaled the wall, voices drifted up from below.

"The hell you movin' so slow for?" The drawling voice cut through the night like a rusted blade. Annie froze mid-climb, her heart skipping a beat as the unmistakable tone sent a chill down her spine. Below, a tall figure in a black trench coat stretched lazily, adjusting his hat. "It ain't that complicated. In and out, boys."

That man.

"Sir, the perimeter is secured," a woman's voice replied, crisp and professional. The blonde stood at rigid attention, while the others wore civilian clothes as they worked. "We'll have everything prepared within the hour."

"Yeah, yeah." The hat tilted dangerously. "Just make it fast. I ain't got all night to babysit."

"Should we do another sweep of the office, Captain?"

"Stop wastin' my time with that," he muttered, his tone dropping to something deadly.

"I'm sorry sir, but what about the notes? Shouldn't we take them?"

"Why bother? Our friend ain't gonna be writin' any more reports, is he? Shame about that accident he's about to have. C'mon, drinks are on me tonight."

Annie counted heartbeats as the man and his second disappeared down the street before making her move.

"Hey, put that out!" A sharp whisper from below. "You trying to get us all killed?"

"Just one last drag-"

"With all this around? Are you insane?"

She heard the sound of a cigarette being ground out, followed by muttered curses.

The office window opened without sound. Inside, moonlight revealed what interrogation looked like - overturned furniture, scattered papers, walls bearing witness to violence. The smell of copper hung thick in the air, mixing with something else - a greasy scent that made her nose wrinkle. Lamp oil. They were already at work in the adjacent rooms.

Annie's heart raced as she entered Brandt's private office. He sat tied to his chair, head lolled at an unnatural angle. Before him, papers were pinned to his desk with a bloodied letter opener - diagrams of Trost's underground tunnels, witness statements, coordinates marked in increasingly shaky handwriting.

She was just reaching for the papers when footsteps approached from the hallway. Annie moved silently behind a heavy bookcase as two men entered, carrying more containers.

"Bring some more here," one directed, his civilian clothes at odds with his military bearing. "Make sure we're thorough."

Annie pressed herself against the wall, barely breathing as they worked mere steps from where she hid. Lamp oil splashed across floorboards and furniture, the greasy smell growing stronger. One of the men set the canister on the desk.

"Poor bastard." The shorter one kicked aside a chair. "Shouldn't have stuck his nose where it didn't belong."

"Shut up and pour."

She waited until they moved to the adjacent room before carefully making her way back to the desk. With trembling hands, she unpinned the papers, some of them falling to the floor, a few landing in the spilled oil. She grabbed what she could, her eyes shifting to the door.

Just as she was about to reach for the window latch, footsteps approached unexpectedly. Annie darted back behind the bookcase, her heart pounding as one of the men reentered the room.

He moved closer to the desk, his hand reaching for the forgotten canister. Suddenly, he paused. His gaze lingered on the papers strewn across the floor, the traces of oil. Annie held her breath, every muscle tensed, ready to spring into action.

The man took a step towards the bookcase, his eyes narrowing. Annie's mind raced. She slowly reached for the letter opener lying amid the scattered papers.

"Hey, hurry up!" his partner called impatiently from the other room. "We need to finish this!"

The man hesitated a moment longer, then grabbed the canister and left. Annie listened as his footsteps receded, counting silently to ten before daring to move.

She slipped from behind the bookcase and crossed to the window in three quick strides. Lifting the latch carefully, she eased it open and peered into the night. The alley below was clear.

Annie didn't slow her pace until she was streets away, the bloodstained documents pressed against her chest. Behind her, orange light began to bloom against Stohess's carefully ordered streets.

The barracks loomed ahead, its dark windows promising safety. Annie had almost reached the door when—

"Caught you." Hitch's voice cut through the darkness, carrying a predatory satisfaction that made Annie's muscles tense. She emerged from the shadows like a cat who'd been waiting all night for its prey. "You're getting sloppy, you know. Used to be so much better at this."

Annie's fingers tightened around the documents hidden beneath her jacket. Had Hitch seen something? What could she know?

"First you disappear during setup." Hitch circled slowly, each step deliberate. "Then all those times you've slipped away during patrol. Those little 'errands' you're always running." Her eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Someone might start to think you're up to something."

Annie's mind raced through scenarios, evaluating angles, exits—

"And then," Hitch's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "When Klaus asked where you'd vanished to, I had to get creative." She paused, her smile growing wider. "You know, at first I thought you might be up to something dangerous. Maybe even illegal."

Annie felt her pulse quicken.

"Tell me something, Annie. Is he handsome at least?"

"...What?"

"Oh, come on!" Hitch's serious demeanor cracked into a delighted grin. "The sneaking around? The distant looks? All those notes you're always writing?" She clasped her hands together dramatically. "You're obviously head over heels! I've got to say, I'm shocked—of all people, you having a secret romance? Who could've guessed?"

The tension in Annie's shoulders eased slightly as she let out a long sigh.

"When I covered for you with the Lieutenant – female problems, by the way, works every time – I just knew I was right." Hitch's excitement was practically bubbling over. "You sure pick some interesting times for your dates."

Distant bells began to toll. Orange light bloomed against the night sky as smoke began to rise above Stohess's rooftops.

"Huh…" Hitch glanced at the light, but the glimmer in her eye was more than just curiosity. She turned her attention back to Annie, her smile turning calculating. " You owe me one..." She leaned in slightly, voice low but clear. " And lucky for you, I can put your sneaky talents to good use."

Her smirk widened as she extended her hand. "Remember that fancy party we've been setting up? I could really use some inside access. I won't spill your secret, if you get me an invite." She tilted her head, the grin still there. "Plus I keep covering for your little romance, as long as you make sure I don't miss out on all the fun. Deal?"

Behind them, the fire bells kept tolling. In her pocket, the blood-stained papers felt heavier with each ring, each secret dissolving into ash above the city's orderly streets.

Annie shook her hand.

Sometimes, the best place to hide was right in plain sight, hidden behind the comforting assumptions others made.