Mikasa did not feel certain of much at the moment, except that she did not like this place. After about an hour of walking, the dirt under her boots had turned into something soft and grainy, and exponentially more difficult to traverse. There were no buildings or trees, so her 3DMG was useless. It was unbelievably hot, and to make matters worse, her stomach would not stop complaining to her.

Maybe I shouldn't have eaten nothing but cake for my last five meals. Empty calories don't get you very far.

Her guts had been churning non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and before that had been on about one-minute intervals. She was beginning to feel light-headed, and maybe a little dizzy. But if she kept on heading forward, she'd eventually find something, so she kept treading through the sinking ground toward the horizon, pulling her scarf further up over her face, fascinated by the little waves that sat on the ground in the distance and the second set of footsteps from just behind her.

"Hey," whispered the owner of the footsteps. "Isn't that beautiful?"

She turned and found the same face she had last heard speak with that voice. His young cheeks were still warm with that optimism she knew she would never have, his big green eyes still looking so innocent. Those eyes had never changed- they were a boy's eyes in a young man's eye sockets. Mikasa was more than a little surprise to see him, but she found herself having difficulty expressing that.

"E…Eren," she croaked.

"All of this," he continued. "The land just stretching out until it touches the sky… and it's all yours. Nobody here to take it from you."

"Yeah," she replied, her throat hoarse and dry.

"C'mon, Mikasa. This is what we wanted, right? We're free."

"If this is what the world beyond the walls is like… I don't feel so good about it anymore."

"No, but- look, this is only part of what it's like. Some of it's desert, and some of it's ocean, and some is forest, like what we're used to. But you've got some of it all to yourself, right here."

"So what? I can't really enjoy it now."

Eren halted her by grasping her shoulders.

"No, no, it's not about now. It's about the future. It's about what the people after us get, because of what we had."

"I- I don't- know," she stuttered, stumbling forward into the soft sand. He quickly pushed her back upright and slung an arm across her, hefting her weight onto his left shoulder.

"C'mon, sis. Let's go."

Mikasa nodded, let him support her taking a step, and promptly fell into the sand. She was so tired… maybe it would be best for her to take a nap. No, then she'd never get anywhere, and she had to keep moving. She resolved to pick herself up off the ground, but upon her first attempt, she blacked out.

"Kid? Kid? You awake yet? You're not looking so hot."

She struggled to open an eye, the lids requiring an abnormal amount of effort to move. Her entire body felt horribly sore, and she was still as light-headed as before. Mikasa had no idea where she was or who was talking to her, and she had no means of finding out.

"Listen, if you do decide to wake up, I've got a pizza here for ya."

Her shallow breaths managed to draw something into her nostrils- a warm scent full of spices that she did not recognize. Her body, useless only moments before, suddenly began to act on its own accord. It violently sprung toward the smell, her shoulders twisting her limp arms until they found something hot and greasy, which was promptly shoveled into her mouth. The hot, gooey bread was shredded and forced down her throat by a weary tongue. She was halfway through another slice before her eyes decided to open, revealing a dimly-lit, messy room filled with empty tables and soggy cardboard boxes. She looked down and found herself on top of one of those tables, and squatting in one of those boxes, half of a whitish-orange disc under her feet. The man who sat at a spot across the table from her looked concerned.

"I guess you were… ah… hungry."

Mikasa hopped down from her perch and eased her still-aching body into a seat, dragging another slice of pizza towards herself.

"Kid, you are just full of mysteries. You want to tell me what you were doing out there in the desert, by yourself?"

Mikasa finished her third slice.

"I was just passing through."

"Don't play stupid with me. Where's the rest of your team?"

Mikasa's mind was beginning to function again, as vitamins and minerals made their presence in her stomach known.

The people that stopped us on the road didn't seem to know what was going on with the Grand Combat, but he does… so is he a fighter, too?

"We got separated," she mumbled through a mouth of mozzarella.

"I suppose that makes sense," he said, leaning back in his chair and propping his boots up across the table. He wore a long, red coat that instantly reminded the scout of her vampire acquaintance, Alucard, though the man was clearly not him. He had a friendly-looking face framed by slivery-white bangs, and his casual mannerisms did not betray any sort of supernatural horror lurking behind his smile. "Nobody with half a brain cell would try and wander through the Abingdon Wastes alone."

"Abingdon Wastes?"

"Well, that's what I call 'em, at least," chuckled the man with a gentle shrug. "This town's called Abingdon, and just outside the desert gets a heck of a lot worse. I was on my way back from Easton with some supplies when I saw you from the road, pretty far out there. I thought I'd do my part and make sure you were all right, so I tossed you on the bike and drove you back here."

"Oh… thank you, sir," Mikasa whispered, having finally cleared the box of its contents of 'pizza'.

The man waved off Mikasa's indebtedness. "Ah, don't mention it. Now, I can't guarantee that I'll get you back to Eren or whoever-"

"So Eren was there?" she gasped.

"I didn't see anybody, but as you started coming to, you kept talking about him in your sleep."

"Oh… I thought I saw him, right before I passed out."

"Could've been a hallucination. Going long enough without water or food does strange things to the human body. So what's the deal, have you got the hots for this guy, or-"

"He's my brother."

"And that conversation took a nose-dive into the awkward underworld," he groaned as he pushed himself up from his seat. Mikasa's eyes followed him as he walked across the dull green-gray room and slipped behind a grimy counter, snagging two glasses off of a drying rack. He then opened a tall, bulky cabinet from which some mist escaped, produced a bottle, and used it to fill the glasses with clear liquid before bringing them back to the table. He passed one to Mikasa and slugged the other down himself.

The scout looked at the glass warily.

"What is it?"

"It's water. Because we just established that you were in need of some?"

Mikasa blinked slowly and then took a sip. It was indeed water, and particularly cold water at that. It was wonderfully refreshing.

"Thank you, sir," she gasped between swallows.

"Hey, there's no need for all that formality. Name's Dante."

Mikasa paused between gulps of water, giving the man a skeptical look. "You're not related to any samurai, are you?"

"Umm… not that I'm aware of."

Mikasa made an audible hmmm before finishing the rest of her glass. She set it down and got up from the table, her body still uneasy but in far better shape than it had been. She reached for her 3DMG's hilts, but found that they were gone.

"Where is it?" she growled.

"Hold on, I'll get it," said Dante, waving his arms in front of him to deflect Mikasa's anger. He walked back toward the counter, hung a left, and pushed through a freely-swinging door into what might have been a kitchen. He emerged a few seconds later carrying the bulky 3D Maneuver Gear.

"Here you go," he grunted, dropping it onto the table. "I guess you can leave now if you want."

She began to reach for the 3DMG, but pulled her hand back halfway through its motion.

"I think I'd like more of that 'pizza' first."

"Okay," smiled Dante. "I can work on that. But may I suggest hanging around until business picks up?"

"Business?"

Dante rolled his eyes. "You ain't never seen a bar before, kid? This is my establishment. I originally figured I'd set it up as an office, like I normally do, but hey, saloons are rustic, plus it helps bring in customers. Devil May Cry, Too, because it's the second one."

"And what good will that do me?"

Dante shook his head. "C'mon, you big dummy! If I've got patrons, you've got people to talk to. And if you've got people to talk to, you can ask if any of them have seen your team. And if not, you could always just hitch a ride with them. It beats walking alone in the desert, right?"

Mikasa furrowed her brow. The man who called himself Dante certainly had a point. Gathering information always yielded a tactical advantage. Plus, finding another group of fighters to tag along with wouldn't be the worst idea, either. But there was one problem with that plan.

"What am I supposed to do until then?" asked the scout.

"I've got a jukebox," shrugged Dante. "And a pool table. And… uhh… I guess I could get some more pizza, like you asked."

"Let's do that," she replied, taking her seat again at the table.

This so-called pizza is amazing. Perhaps on even footing with mom's wiener schnitzel. Maybe better… no, not better. But close.