Attack on Titan: Survival and Dedication - Male Reader

PART FOUR

The little explosives weren't meant to do anything more than stun a Titan, but if he wanted, he was sure he could put something together powerful enough to take a limb or two.
  Levi's concern was still valid. A bomb this size would riddle a 3-meter radius with deadly shrapnel, rending flesh and perhaps even killing outright. Whatever the use, it would put a grown man down with ease.
  He packed the cans tight and fashioned fuses to the top. Three had roughly a ten-second window while only one had just a few seconds. His only concern was igniting them.
  I'll figure that out later. He thought. Right now he was starving and his sore frame was getting to him.
   After so much work preparing, the mess hall was practically empty. Only a few of the Scouts remained and they stuck together. Their loud yawns and quiet speech told Y/N they were most likely lookouts or last night's skeleton crew. Whoever they were, they offered nothing more than a few stares.
   Working for the military as a whole - but mainly the Corps - had its benefits. After proving himself time and time again, no one objected to the second helping of food he took.
   The food was always bland, consisting of old biscuits and canned goods, but something was better than nothing so Y/N had little to complain about.
   His muscles protested as he bent his elbow putting the biscuit to his mouth. He thought nothing of it but those too nosey or concerned thought he may be in pain.
   "Are you okay?" Petra's voice came from behind. He didn't bother turning back to see what she was doing or to reply.
   "Yeah." He said before chewing on the tough and dry bread.
   "Just seemed like you were hurt." Petra said. She sensed the air about him, the aura of unapproachable nature. He wanted to be left alone and it translated into an almost rude tone.
   "I'm fine." He insisted.
Much to his displeasure, she rounded the table, wooden broom in hand. Her blonde brows curled with concern, an emotion carried over into her softened voice.
   "Are you sure...?"
A deep sigh left his mouth just as a spoonful of muck came within reach. He pondered the question for a moment, a meager four seconds that felt like a lifetime.
His blank but thoughtful stare didn't go unnoticed. Before Petra could ask something else, he murmured a reply leaking with honesty.
   "No." He said and put the spoonful of food in his mouth. "I'm not."
He was as brutally honest as can be and he didn't seem to have a problem with it. But out of everyone there, Petra figured he would be among the most courageous. Then again, that could be said about anyone willing to leave the wall before and after it had been breached.
   Before she could open her mouth he grabbed what was left of his food, wrapped it in a cloth, and left. He reminded her of Levi in a more somber way.

  The night was approaching far quicker than Y/N cared for. He'd gotten a good amount of sleep beforehand and that was always something to appreciate.
   He put aside his discomfort and reluctance for once to join the others for dinner. He didn't want to wait two or so hours for the room to clear. He was at least thankful Levi was there to keep the others in order.
   The Scout picked a table at random, uncaring if someone had something to say. What they would nip at him with is his loyalty and position in the military. A fine example could be heard at the table opposite of him.
   "He gets double the food, what's with that? Seems like some BS to me."
  "I heard that he's not even a Scout."
  "No way."
  "Then why the hell's he wearing the uniform? I busted my ass just to earn mine!"
  "You gotta take it up with the Commander, he picked him. And just for that, I'm keeping my mouth shut. Best you do the same."
  "So he's just some mailman? I dunno about you but it's hard to put my faith in someone that's not even one of us!"
  "Keep it down over there!" Yelled Levi. His stern voice immediately silenced them and anyone nearby. Y/N doubted he stuck up for him but he was at least glad the Captain was easily annoyed.
  Y/N couldn't care less. He thought of their words as more idiotic than anything. How they showed blind loyalty to cloth and an ideal was beyond him. What had the king ever done for them? Had he shaken their hand personally for putting their life on the line? Or maybe it was another case of someone fighting for humanity as a whole. Either way, they served as living examples of what not to be. As long as he lived a life as far away from them as humanly possible he'd outlive them. Y/N knew this without a shadow of a doubt.
  Finishing up his meal, Y/N was off. Daylight began to fade, leaving the sky a deep orange and soon, a faint blue.
  One would think he would have a use for horses or was perhaps a good rider, but he was anything but. Horses were more of a liability, a beacon on four legs that shone for kilometers around. Their speed was hardly a pro when compared to immediate death.
  When offered a horse by the higher-ups, he refused. He'd work slowly and it would take a few days but his survival and success were practically guaranteed.
  He picked his gear off a picnic table, wrapping it around him to secure pouches, his pack, and his cloak. Leaves rustled with each bit of movement, leaving a faint stench in the air. The deer urine seemed far more natural now that it had dried and mingled with a thin layer of dirt.
  He made sure everything was secure before departing, which meant tightening the strap to his rifle and leather sheath. He wasn't expecting much other than Titans so his load was light, consisting only of food, water, and his chosen tools.
  His eyes were drawn to lines in the sand. The lines were deep and carved with a stick, but at first glance, you could tell it was a map.
  The destroyed village he mentioned in his report was splayed out before him, decorated with X's and scribbled lines. The plan was rather simple on paper but a complete nightmare to pull off. Nevertheless, he was determined to earn his pay.
  He hopped to his feet, adjusting his pack on the way down. His heart was in his mouth, beating so fast he was sure he had an adrenaline rush.
  The steady rhythm in his chest pushed him forward. He forgot about his sore limbs and desire for sleep, shifting them into a focus and master of the damaged muscle tissue.
  The weight of the gold ingot in his pocket spoke volumes. Its voice was loud, more inspiring than whatever suicidal speech anyone had to give.