Capítulo 13: Fugitives
The afternoon sun streamed through the cabin windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. Aaron Mustang stood in the center of the main room, his emerald eyes narrowed as he surveyed the state of their temporary home. His gaze fell upon Jean and Connie, who were halfheartedly pushing brooms across the wooden floor.
"This is what you call clean?" Aaron's voice cut through the air, sharp with disapproval. "I've seen pig pens more hygienic than this."
Jean straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Come on, Captain. It's not that bad," he protested, gesturing around the room.
Connie nodded in agreement, leaning on his broom. "Yeah, we've been at it for hours. How much cleaner can it get?"
Aaron's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He was about to launch into a tirade when Eren's voice cut through the tension.
"You guys have no idea, do you?" Eren said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You've never had to clean to Captain Levi's standards."
Jean scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please. You're exaggerating."
At that moment, the cabin door swung open, and Historia entered, followed closely by Mikasa. The golden-haired girl's eyes immediately sought out Aaron, a small smile playing on her lips.
Jean's face lit up at the sight of Historia. "Oh, Historia! I got what you asked for," he said, moving towards a bag near the door. "It's in here."
Aaron's eyebrow arched, a flicker of something - jealousy, perhaps? - passing across his face. "You know," he said, his voice deceptively casual, "you could have asked me to get it for you."
Jean's face twisted into a look of disbelief. 'This guy is seriously jealous,' he thought to himself. 'Poor Historia.'
Historia, seemingly oblivious to the tension, reached into the bag and pulled out a small jar. "I doubt you would have found it, Aaron," she said lightly.
Eren leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What is that?" he asked, eyeing the jar.
"It's a hair pomade," Historia explained. "It's all the rage in the cities lately."
Aaron's brow furrowed in confusion. "What's it for?"
"For styling hair, of course," Historia replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Why do you need that?" Aaron asked, still perplexed.
Historia's smile widened. "Oh, it's not for me. It's for you."
Aaron blinked in surprise. "For me? But I don't really style my hair. I just tie it back."
"Exactly," Historia said, her tone firm. "Your hair is a disaster, Aaron. It's tangled and damaged. When was the last time you even had it cut?"
Aaron swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like he was facing a Titan rather than his petite girlfriend. "Uh, a while ago?" he offered weakly.
Historia sighed, shaking her head. "Sit down," she commanded, pointing to a nearby chair.
Aaron, the fearsome Untamed Stallion, meekly obeyed. Historia reached for a pair of scissors, and Aaron's eyes widened in alarm.
"You're not serious, are you?" he asked, a note of panic in his voice.
Eren watched the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and sympathy. "Are you really going to cut his hair, Historia?"
Historia nodded confidently. "Of course. His hair is terrible. Besides," she added, her voice softening slightly, "Aaron trusts me to give him a good cut, don't you?"
Aaron, looking decidedly nervous, managed a weak smile. "Uh, sure. Of course."
As Historia began to snip away at Aaron's long, unruly locks, Jean leaned in close to Connie. "Looks like the untamed stallion has been broken in," he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips.
Connie snickered. "And by such a tiny girl, too."
Their amusement was short-lived, however. Aaron's sharp hearing caught their whispers, and he fixed them with a glare that could have frozen a Titan in its tracks. Jean and Connie immediately straightened up, their faces paling.
"Aaron," Historia's voice was gentle but firm. "What did I say about using violence against your comrades?"
A faint blush colored Aaron's cheeks, and he muttered a grudging, "Tch."
Jean and Connie exchanged glances, barely containing their laughter at the sight of their fearsome captain being scolded like a child.
Historia continued her work, her small hands moving with surprising dexterity as she shaped Aaron's hair. "You know," she said conversationally, "I used to cut Ymir's hair all the time. I even cut my own."
Connie, emboldened by Aaron's current predicament, piped up. "That explains the terrible haircut."
Without missing a beat, Historia flung the scissors at Connie. He yelped, barely managing to dodge the flying blades.
"Connie," Historia called sweetly, "could you lend me your shaving razor?"
Connie, still wide-eyed from his near miss with the scissors, nodded quickly. "Sure, anything to mess with Mustang," he said, handing over the razor.
"That's Captain Mustang to you," Aaron growled, but his words lacked their usual bite.
"Whatever you say, sheepdog," Connie retorted, grinning.
Historia set to work with the razor, carefully shaving the sides of Aaron's head while leaving a strip of longer hair on top. As she worked, she hummed softly, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.
"There," she said finally, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Now you look just like Captain Levi!"
Aaron's hand flew to his head, feeling the unfamiliar shortness of his hair. Before he could protest, Historia was already reaching for the pomade. She worked a small amount through his remaining hair, slicking it to one side.
Jean couldn't contain himself any longer. "Now he looks like a complete idiot," he said, laughing.
Aaron, frustration mounting, ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. A few rebellious strands fell forward, framing his face.
Historia's eyes widened. "Oh," she breathed, "that's perfect."
Connie tilted his head, considering. "Well, it could have been worse."
Jean, never one to miss an opportunity to needle Aaron, smirked. "I bet you still can't charm half as many girls as I can."
Mikasa, who had been quietly observing the entire scene, finally spoke up. "It was better before," she said flatly.
Aaron stood up abruptly, his patience finally worn thin. "Alright, that's enough," he barked. "All of you, go patrol or something. Now!"
As if on cue, Nanaba entered the cabin. Her eyes immediately locked onto Aaron, widening in appreciation. "Captain," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice, "you look very handsome."
Aaron, still bristling from the others' comments, snapped, "You too, Nanaba. Get to work."
Nanaba blinked in confusion. "Huh? What did I do?"
As the cabin erupted into a flurry of activity, with soldiers scrambling to follow Aaron's orders, the scene shifted to a very different setting.
Miles away, in the dank depths of the Underground City, a burly man with a receding hairline stumbled down a dimly lit alley. A bottle of cheap liquor dangled from his fingers, nearly empty. This was Marko Mustang, once known as Marko Ackerman, a man with a past as dark and twisted as the tunnels of his underground home.
Marko pushed open the door to his rundown dwelling, the hinges creaking in protest. He froze in the doorway, his bleary eyes focusing on a figure seated at his rickety table.
Kenny Ackerman, the infamous "Kenny the Ripper," sat with casual ease in Marko's chair, a dangerous smile playing on his thin lips.
Marko sighed heavily, the weight of years of violence and regret settling on his broad shoulders. "What are you doing here, Kenny?" he asked, his voice rough from years of hard living and harder drinking.
Kenny's smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Come now, Marko. Family should stick together, shouldn't they?"
Marko drained the last drops from his bottle before tossing it aside. "Since when have we been so close?" he growled.
"Well," Kenny drawled, "since we no longer need to hide our true names. Though you seem to prefer that false name... Mustang."
Marko's eyes hardened. "I've been Mustang longer than I was ever an Ackerman," he said. "Besides, just because you're the king's lap dog doesn't mean the rest of us are free from enemies. The Mustang name keeps me... inconspicuous."
Kenny nodded, conceding the point. "Fair enough. A quiet life in this hellhole is still a life, I suppose."
Marko lowered himself into the chair opposite Kenny, his joints creaking almost as much as the furniture. "So, why are you really here? I doubt it's for a family reunion."
Kenny leaned forward, his eyes glittering with malice. "I've got a job. One that could get you out of this underground shithole for good."
Marko's interest was piqued despite himself. "I'm listening," he said cautiously. "I assume someone needs killing?"
"Something like that," Kenny replied. "You've heard of that Titan boy, Eren Yeager?"
Marko nodded slowly. "The Military Police want him dead?"
Kenny shook his head. "Not dead. Captured. Him and the illegitimate daughter of Rod Reiss. The one we need to kill is their bodyguard... Levi."
Marko's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Levi? Isn't he your nephew?"
Kenny shrugged, his face a mask of indifference. "Business is business."
Marko was quiet for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, he shook his head. "I'm out," he said firmly.
Kenny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What's the matter? Lost your nerve in your old age?"
Marko let out a humorless laugh. "It's not about nerve, Kenny. It's about knowing a losing battle when I see one. And I'm not talking about Levi."
Kenny leaned back, curiosity replacing the threat in his posture. "Oh? Then who?"
Marko's eyes grew distant, as if seeing something far beyond the grimy walls of his underground home. "The boy I trained myself. He's not an Ackerman by blood, but he's got the strength of one. Aaron... Aaron Mustang."
Kenny's eyebrows rose in surprise. "The kid you took in? Haven't heard you mention him in years. Thought he'd died in some back-alley brawl."
Marko shook his head, a hint of pride creeping into his voice despite himself. "Levi saw him fight. Saw his potential and took him topside. Last I heard, he was making quite a name for himself in the Survey Corps."
Kenny studied Marko's face, a sly grin spreading across his features. "Don't tell me you've gone soft, old man. Surely you're not refusing the job because of some sentimental attachment to a brat you picked up off the streets?"
Marko's eyes hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "It's not about sentiment, you idiot. It's about survival. That 'brat' was already a beast three years ago when he left. I don't even want to imagine what he's become now, training with the likes of Levi."
Kenny sat back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Is that so? Well, well... maybe this job just got a lot more interesting."
As the two men continued their tense conversation, the flickering lamplight cast long shadows on the walls, like the reaching fingers of the past, unable to let go of those who had long since tried to escape its grasp.
The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on the small clearing near the cabin, where Aaron Mustang and Eren Yeager were engaged in an intense hand-to-hand combat training session. Sweat glistened on their brows as they circled each other, fists raised and eyes locked in concentration.
With a sudden burst of speed, Aaron closed the distance between them. His fist shot out, a blur of motion that Eren barely managed to deflect. But Aaron was relentless, following up with a swift knee to the midsection that left Eren gasping for air. In a fluid motion, Aaron swept Eren's legs out from under him, sending the younger soldier crashing to the ground.
For a moment, Eren lay there, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Aaron stood over him, his emerald eyes evaluating Eren's performance. Then, with a small smile, he extended his hand.
"Not bad," Aaron said as he helped Eren to his feet. "You're improving. But you're still telegraphing your moves too much."
Eren nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "I just can't seem to match your speed, Captain."
Aaron's expression softened slightly. "It takes time and practice, Eren. Here, let me show you something."
He positioned himself in front of Eren, raising his fists. "The jab is one of the most important punches in your arsenal. It's quick, it keeps your opponent at a distance, and it sets up your other attacks."
Aaron demonstrated the punch in slow motion, explaining the mechanics of the movement. "Keep your elbow in, rotate your hips slightly, and snap your fist out. Then bring it right back to guard position."
Eren watched intently, mimicking the motion. Aaron nodded in approval. "Good. Now faster."
They practiced the jab for several minutes, Aaron offering corrections and encouragement. Finally, Eren dropped his hands, breathing heavily.
"Can we take a break?" he asked, a note of exhaustion in his voice.
From beneath a nearby tree, Jean's voice called out, "Good idea. Even I'm getting tired of watching Eren get his ass handed to him."
Aaron glanced over at Jean, who had been observing the training session with a mixture of amusement and boredom. "Alright," he conceded. "Let's take five."
The three of them settled beneath the shade of the tree, gratefully gulping water from their canteens. For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the distant chirping of birds.
Jean broke the silence, his tone uncharacteristically thoughtful. "Hey, I've been wondering... what are your goals for the future?"
Eren and Aaron turned to look at him, surprise evident on their faces.
Jean shrugged, a bit defensively. "What? I heard some people in Trost talking about it the other day, and it got me thinking. I mean, with everything we've seen and been through, I'm just hoping we survive at this point."
Eren's eyes blazed with his usual intensity. "I'm going to kill all the Titans," he declared without hesitation.
Jean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we know that, idiot. But what about after? Assuming you actually manage to do it, what then?"
Eren's brow furrowed as he considered the question. "I... I guess I haven't really thought about it," he admitted.
"Of course you haven't," Jean muttered. He turned to Aaron. "What about you, Mustang?"
Aaron's eyebrow twitched slightly. "That's Captain Mustang to you, Kirstein."
Jean waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. So, what's your grand plan?"
Aaron was quiet for a moment, his emerald eyes distant. "A quiet life," he said finally. "A small farm, maybe. Just... peace."
Jean snorted. "Seriously? Knowing how ridiculous you are, I thought you'd say something like marrying Historia."
Aaron's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know that?"
Before Jean could retort, Armin's voice called out from the direction of the cabin. "Guys! Hange needs us back at the cabin. It sounds important."
The lighthearted atmosphere evaporated instantly. Aaron was on his feet in a flash, his face serious. "Let's go," he said, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of command.
As they made their way back to the cabin, Aaron's mind raced. For Hange to call an impromptu meeting, something significant must have happened. He just hoped it wasn't bad news.
Inside the cabin, the air was thick with tension. Hange stood at the head of the room, her usual manic energy replaced by a grim seriousness that sent a chill down Aaron's spine.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Hange began, her voice uncharacteristically somber. "Pastor Nick is dead."
A collective gasp went through the room. Aaron's fists clenched at his sides, his mind already racing through the implications.
Hange continued, her words coming faster now. "He was tortured and killed this morning by agents from the First Interior Squad of the Military Police. They found him in the Trost barracks."
"The First Interior Squad?" Aaron interjected, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But they only operate in the capital. What were they doing in Trost?"
Hange nodded grimly. "Exactly. It's highly unusual. I only got to see the body briefly, but..." she paused, swallowing hard. "All of his fingernails had been torn out."
Levi's cold voice cut through the horrified silence that followed. "He didn't talk," the Captain said with certainty. "If he had, they wouldn't have gone that far."
Aaron nodded in agreement. "Which means they probably don't know we've been investigating the Reiss family," he added, his mind working furiously.
"But why kill him at all?" Eren asked, his voice shaking slightly. "If he didn't give them any information..."
"To send a message," Aaron said grimly. "They're letting us know they're onto us, even if they don't know exactly what we know."
Levi nodded approvingly at Aaron's deduction. "We need to move quickly. Our window of opportunity is closing fast."
At that moment, the cabin door burst open, revealing a breathless Nifa. "Captain Levi!" she gasped. "I have an urgent message from Commander Erwin!"
Levi snatched the message from her hand, his eyes scanning the contents rapidly. His expression, usually so controlled, flickered with a mix of anger and concern.
"Everyone, listen up," Levi barked, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "We're abandoning this location immediately. Leave no trace behind. Move!"
The cabin erupted into a flurry of activity. Aaron's voice rose above the chaos, issuing rapid-fire orders to his squad. "Jean, Connie, erase all signs of our presence outside. Sasha, Mikasa, gather all our supplies. Eren, Historia, stay close to me."
As they worked, Levi filled them in on the contents of Erwin's message. "The government has ordered all Survey Corps activities outside the walls to cease immediately," he said, his voice tight with barely contained fury. "They're also demanding that Eren and Historia be handed over to the monarchy."
Aaron's head snapped up at this, his eyes locking with Historia's across the room. A silent promise passed between them - he wouldn't let anyone take her without a fight.
"There's more," Nifa added, her voice trembling slightly. "After Commander Erwin gave me the message, the Military Police arrived to arrest him."
A heavy silence fell over the group as they processed this information. Aaron's mind raced, trying to piece together the larger picture.
"They're making their move," he said finally, his voice low and intense. "Whatever's going on with the Reiss family, the Titans, all of it - we must be getting close to something big. Big enough that they're willing to risk openly moving against the Survey Corps."
Levi nodded, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. "Exactly. Which means we need to move faster and smarter than ever before."
As the last traces of their presence were erased and the group prepared to move out, Aaron pulled Levi aside. "Captain," he said quietly, "what's our next move? Without Erwin..."
Levi's eyes hardened. "We stick to the plan. Erwin knew this might happen. He's counting on us to keep pushing forward, no matter what."
Aaron nodded, a grim smile playing at his lips. "Into hell itself, if that's what it takes."
"Damn right," Levi replied. "Now get your squad ready. We move in five minutes."
As Aaron turned to gather his team, he caught sight of Historia, her face pale but determined. In that moment, he silently renewed the vow he had made to her. No matter what forces were arrayed against them, no matter what secrets lay hidden behind the walls or in the hearts of their enemies, he would protect her. He would fight for the future they had barely dared to dream of - a future of peace, of freedom, of a world without Titans.
The sun was setting as the Survey Corps members slipped away from the cabin, melting into the gathering shadows like ghosts. Behind them, they could hear the distant sounds of approaching horses - the Military Police, arriving too late to find their quarry.
The cool night air whipped past them as the Survey Corps members rode swiftly away from their abandoned hideout. The rhythmic pounding of hooves on dirt was punctuated by the occasional snort from their mounts, the horses sensing the urgency of their riders.
As they put distance between themselves and the approaching Military Police, Levi maneuvered his horse alongside Aaron's. The captain's steel-grey eyes were sharp as he addressed his subordinate.
"Mustang," Levi said, his voice low but clear over the sound of their gallop. "There's something you need to know. Erwin had a plan in place for this scenario, but with him arrested, you're in charge now."
Aaron's emerald eyes widened in surprise. "Me? But surely you-"
Levi cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Erwin trusts you to be his successor. In his absence, you need to step up and take responsibility."
Aaron swallowed hard, his grip on the reins tightening. "I... I don't feel ready for this, Captain."
Levi's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Cut the crap, Mustang. Trust Erwin's judgment. He saw something in you, and now's the time to prove him right."
For a moment, Aaron was silent, the weight of this new responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. Then, with a deep breath, he straightened in his saddle, his eyes hardening with resolve.
"Alright," he said, his voice gaining strength. "We need to regroup and plan our next move. I think our best bet is to head to Trost. We can use the chaos there to our advantage, and the layout of the city is perfect for our ODM gear if we need a quick escape."
Levi nodded approvingly. "Not bad. What about Erwin?"
Aaron's brow furrowed in thought. "Hange," he called out, raising his voice slightly. "I want you and Moblit to focus on finding Erwin. Take Neil and Nanaba with you - they know how to move undetected in the city."
Hange, who had been riding nearby, gave a sharp nod. "Understood. We'll find him and report back as soon as we can."
Aaron then turned to Gus, his expression softening slightly. "Gus, I need you to do something important for me. Go to the capital and find my sister at the hospital. I don't trust the Military Police not to use her against us. Take her to the Underground City - you'll be able to hide there."
Gus saluted, determination clear in his eyes. "You can count on me, Captain. I'll keep her safe."
As the group prepared to split up, Eren approached Hange, a folded piece of paper in his hand. "Section Commander," he said, his voice urgent. "This is a transcript of the conversation Ymir had with Bertolt. It might be important."
Hange took the paper, tucking it securely into her jacket. "Good thinking, Eren. Every piece of information could be crucial right now."
With their plans set, the group divided, each heading towards their respective destinations. Aaron led the main squad towards Trost, his mind racing with strategies and contingencies.
As they entered the outskirts of Trost, the first rays of dawn were just beginning to paint the sky in hues of pink and gold. The city was already stirring, an air of excitement permeating the streets.
Connie, his eyes darting around curiously, suddenly spoke up. "Hey, does anyone else notice that the royal family's crest is everywhere?"
The others looked around, noting the abundance of banners and decorations bearing the familiar symbol.
"It must be the anniversary of the King's coronation," Jean mused, his voice low to avoid drawing attention.
As they made their way deeper into the city, they observed members of the Military Police handing out food rations to the citizens. The people's faces were a mix of gratitude and reverence as they accepted the gifts from the royal reserves.
"Clever," Aaron muttered, his eyes narrowing. "They're using this celebration to maintain a favorable image of the government. Keep the people fed and distracted, and they won't ask too many questions."
Little did they know that at that very moment, in the opulent halls of the royal court, Lord Reiss was addressing his fellow officials with an air of urgency.
"Gentlemen," Reiss said, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "our primary objective now is to locate the 'power' and its 'vessel.' Rest assured, our plan is already in motion."
Back in Trost, Aaron and his squad had put their own plan into action. A ornate carriage rattled down the cobblestone streets, drawing curious glances from passersby. To all appearances, it was transporting the captured Eren and Historia.
In reality, Jean and Armin sat inside, disguised as their comrades. The real Eren and Historia were being safely transported by Keiji in a separate, less conspicuous vehicle.
Levi and the rest of the squad followed the decoy carriage at a distance, ready to intervene if necessary. As they watched, a group of men intercepted the carriage, roughly pulling "Eren" and "Historia" inside.
"Looks like they took the bait," Sasha whispered, her keen eyes tracking the kidnappers' movements.
Aaron nodded grimly. "Now we follow them to their base of operations. With any luck, we'll uncover who's really behind all this."
They trailed the kidnappers to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. As the men dragged their captives inside, Levi turned to Aaron.
"I'm going to check on the real Eren and Historia," he said quietly. "You're in charge here, Mustang. Don't screw it up."
Aaron's eyebrow twitched slightly. "With all due respect, Captain," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I believe I'm the acting commander now. You don't need to give me orders."
Levi's lips curled into the barest hint of a smirk. "Just don't let it go to your head, brat," he said before disappearing into the shadows.
Inside the warehouse, the situation was quickly deteriorating. One of the kidnappers, emboldened by their apparent success, had begun to manhandle "Historia," his hands roaming inappropriately over Armin's disguised form.
Mikasa, watching from her hidden position, hissed in anger. "Mustang," she whispered urgently, "they're going to realize it's a disguise any second now."
Aaron, his emerald eyes cold with fury at the treatment of his comrade, allowed a small, dangerous smile to play across his lips. "Don't worry," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "The plan is foolproof. After all, I almost kissed Armin last night thinking he was Historia."
There was a moment of stunned silence as the squad processed this information. Connie whit open eyes . "That's... far too much information, Mustang."
Before anyone could dwell on Aaron's revelation, the leader of the kidnappers entered the warehouse. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the absence of the guard they had left outside.
"Something's not right," he growled, reaching for a weapon.
That was all the signal Aaron needed. With a burst of speed that seemed almost inhuman, he launched himself from his hiding spot. His fist connected with the leader's jaw with a sickening crack, sending the man flying across the room.
The warehouse erupted into chaos. Aaron moved like a force of nature, his movements a blur of deadly precision. He ducked under a wild swing from one attacker, using the man's momentum to throw him into two of his comrades.
Another kidnapper charged at Aaron with a knife, but the Survey Corps captain was ready. In a move that seemed to defy physics, Aaron twisted in mid-air, his boot connecting with the man's temple and sending him crumpling to the ground.
"Holy shit," Connie breathed, his eyes wide with awe and a hint of fear. "Mustang's a monster, even against other humans."
Sasha nodded in agreement, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a look of grim admiration. "Remind me never to get on his bad side."
Mikasa, usually the most formidable fighter among them, found herself momentarily stunned by the display of raw skill and power. She quickly shook off her surprise, joining the fray with her own brand of lethal grace.
Meanwhile, Jean and Armin, having been freed in the initial confusion, were holding their own against the remaining kidnappers. Jean's fists flew with surprising accuracy, while Armin, despite his smaller stature, used his quick thinking to outmaneuver his larger opponents.
In a matter of minutes, it was over. The warehouse floor was littered with groaning, unconscious bodies. Aaron stood in the center of the carnage, his chest heaving slightly but otherwise looking no worse for wear.
"Tie them up," he ordered, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of command. "We need to question them when they wake up."
As the squad set about restraining the kidnappers, Aaron's mind was already racing ahead to their next move. He turned to address his team, his emerald eyes blazing with determination.
"Good work, everyone," he said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and urgency. "But this is just the beginning. We need to rendezvous with the Captain and the others. Whatever's going on here, it's bigger than we thought."
Connie, still looking slightly shell-shocked from the display he'd witnessed, couldn't help but ask, "So, uh, does this mean you're really in charge now, Mus- I mean, Commander?"
Aaron's expression softened slightly, a hint of his usual wry humor returning. "Looks like it, Springer. God help us all."
As they prepared to move out, securing their prisoners and erasing any signs of their presence, Aaron felt the weight of his new responsibility settling more firmly on his shoulders. He thought of Erwin, of the trust placed in him, of the challenges that lay ahead.
'I won't let you down,' he thought, his resolve hardening. 'Any of you.'
With a final glance around the warehouse, Aaron led his squad back into the streets of Trost. The sun was now high in the sky, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill of uncertainty that ran through them all.
Whatever came next, whatever secrets lay hidden behind the walls of power and privilege, Aaron Mustang was ready to face it head-on. For his comrades, for humanity, and for the future they all fought so desperately to protect.
The game had changed, the stakes raised higher than ever before. But the Untamed Stallion was nothing if not adaptable. With his squad at his back and the weight of command on his shoulders, Aaron rode on into the unknown, ready to write the next chapter in humanity's desperate struggle for survival and truth.
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