All language subtitles for S01E15 Crushing Blow

You-- You're all cowards!

Just shut up! And put
all your faith in me!

You don't need
a good "talking to."

What you're in need of,
boy, is to be taught a lesson.

Hm. Then I have made my choice.

And so it
was that Eren became a ward

of the Scout
Regiment, and key to

their planned
mission beyond the wall.

An architectural
marvel, don't you agree?

A proper royal
residence once upon a time;

and more recently,
our former headquarters.

Fancy, yes. But
absurdly impractical once

the Scouts got
down to business.

Much, much too far removed
from either river or wall.

This was the early
days for us, you understand.

Hopes soared high.
Now, this opulent bauble is

a little more
than a holding cell.

The place where
we store our newest toy.

Do not be deceived, greenhorn.

Excuse me?

Don't be expecting
the royal treatment.

Whether you're Titan or human,
don't imagine for a second

we all share the good
Captain's enthusi--

That's
what you get for

flapping your
jowls on horseback.

The rookie
needed to know his place.

First
impressions are important.

Well you certainly
made an impression on him.

No question there.

Indeed so. Our exchange
went exactly as planned.

What, um...
What happened to you?

You never used
to talk like this.

I mean. It's really
none of my business,

but if you're trying
to act like the Captain,

it's kind of embarrassing.

You and Levi
couldn't be less alike

if you'd been born
separate species.

If you intend to hound
me like a wife, Petra, dear,

there's rather more of me
you need to be acquainted with

before laying claim
to the privilege.

Ha. You wish.

I'd tell you
to bite your tongue,

but you've
got that covered.

Next time
I hope you bleed out.

Oh-ho-ho!

Methinks the
lady doth protest too much.

So here they are.

The Scouts'
Special Operations Squad.

The "Levi Squad."

You disgusting swineherd!

Petra Rall. Ten
Titan-kills to her credit;

forty-eight kill-assists.

Oruo Bozad. Thirty-nine
kills; nine assists.

Elite as they come.

Eld Gin. Fourteen
kills; thirty-two assists.

Gunther Schultz.
Seven kills; forty assists.

Every one of these
Scouts was handpicked by

Captain Levi for
accomplishments in the field.

That, and...
They're my executioners.

The ones who'll
end me if I lose it.

Look at these weeds.

This
place's gone to hell.

It's been
abandoned for years.

Bet the
inside's are shambles.

In which case we
have a problem, don't we?

Best grab a broom
and get to work.

I'm done with
the upstairs, sir.

If, uh-- If I
may ask, Captain,

where will I be
expected to sleep?

Your sleeping quarters
are in the cellar.

The cellar? But, sir, again?

Our safest option.

Your abilities are far
from being under control.

You might go
Titan in your sleep.

One of the conditions
of my having you

in custody at all
is that I keep you under

strict security
morning, noon, and night.

While we're in dreamland,
you're in restraints.

That's the rule.

I'll check your work.

Take over here.
I want it spotless.

Yes, sir.

Oh, Eren. Try not
to look so discouraged.

Sorry. I hope you
don't mind me calling you Eren.

I notice the
Captain does and, well,

he pretty much sets
the tone for the rest of us.

Whatever. It's just
that I, uh... well...

Did I really look discouraged,
or were you saying that?

Everyone
reacts that way.

Up close and personal,
Captain Levi doesn't seem

much like the hero
he's cracked up to be.

For one thing
he's a lot shorter.

Bit on the
temperamental side, too.

Not exactly imbued with what
you'd call the social graces.

It's not that. I'm more
put off by the seriousness.

He's so dead earnest about
following the higher-ups' rules.

Let me guess.
You think strength means

living by your own
rules, flouting everyone else's?

Well, he didn't strike me
as the type to take orders.

Time was he would've lived
up to your expectations.

That's what I understand anyway.
I don't have the details.

Story goes
he was quite the rogue

before
joining the Scouts.

A high roller in
the Capital's black market.

How the hell
did he-- I mean...

No clue. Folks talk,
but who knows what

really brought him here, right?

The most popular
version involves Erwin.

They say he dragged him to the
Scouts kicking and screaming.

The Commander?

What's going on?

Sir!

Your cleaning is lamentable.

Back upstairs. Now.

We're thirty days out
from an expedition to set up

a logistics
base beyond the wall.

And now you're saying
we'll have a crop of

green recruits
along for the ride?

Assuming
any sign up, yes.

Not to be a nay-sayer, but
doesn't that seem rash to you?

Honestly, what are their odds?

Our custody of
Eren is conditional

on the results
of this mission.

Right now the first
order of business is

persuading the brass
we have him under control;

that's he's
an asset, not a threat.

The last thing we
want is for the Military Police

to throw in their
lot. Or someone else.

And you don't wanna give me
a straight answer. Is that it?

Your nose is as sharp
as ever, huh? Not bad.

*sniff*

Yeah, well. Not as sharp
as yours on a good day.

You'll have the
facts soon enough.

It's safe to
assume our standing orders

will stretch
into next week.

But word through the
grapevine is we're gearing up

for a big mission
a month from now.

One where a bunch of
wet-behind-the-ears graduates

are slated to
be our main backup.

That can't be right.
Why do something like that?

The cadets have
been through enough

with the last Titan attack.

Why subject them to
that kind of danger again?

You have to wonder
how many of those

snivel-drop runts
peed themselves.

Surely this can't be the case.

Mission planning
isn't my responsibility.

But, it is Erwin's.

And you can bet the man's
obsessed over every angle.

That's the truth.

Especially given how
unique the situation is.

Consider how many people died
on the path to taking back

Wall Maria, then hope comes
in a form no one expected.

One that we're not even
entirely sure how to deal with.

Most of us still
find it hard to believe.

So how does it work?

This whole changing
into a Titan trick. Really?

Wish I could tell you, but the
fact is my memory's not clear.

Guess it's kinda
like being in a trance.

I do know the
trigger seems to be

hurting myself in some
way. Like biting my hand.

Wait. Why do I
know that, but nothing else?

You're not going to
get anything out of him.

Apart from what the scribblers
have laid out in the reports.

Huh. Not that you-know-
who won't have a go at it.

You'll be lucky
to come out of it alive

if that
one lays into you.

'Course it's
only a matter of time.

Who're
you talking about?

*banging*
Oww!

I'm so sorry. Good
evening, Team Levi!

How is castle
life treating everyone?

You're too early.

Am I? S'pose
I couldn't help myself.

Section Commander Hange?

Hello, Eren.

In the event you haven't
pieced it together yet,

it's my job to spearhead the

Scout Regiment's
research efforts.

Essentially, I poke and prod
our captive Titan specimens.

I'd very much like your help.

My help? In what way?

Like, what
would I have to do?

Join me, of course!

On a quest of
scientific discovery!

Well, uh... I'm happy to help,

except I'm afraid
it's not up to me.

I'm under close
restrictions by order of

the higher ups, you see.

Levi! What's on the
docket for him tomorrow?

Clearing out all the weeds.

Excellent, then! It's cinched!

Young man, tomorrow
will be grand.

Uh. 'Kay... But, uh...

Just so I'm clear, what
exactly will I be doing?

Hm?

Are you running
experiments or something?

Idiot. Shut up.

Ah. I knew it.

You possess a singularly
curious mind, don't you?

Well, my inquisitive
friend, if you insist.

Why not lay
it all on the table?

I intend to
get better acquainted

with the Titans we
lucked upon in Trost.

As a scientist,
naturally I started with

the standard
battery of tests

we conduct on
all such captures.

Hello, beautiful.

First was an
attempt at communication.

How're we feeling?

Do you have
a name? Are you in pain?

Section commander!
You're too close!

Hi there! Lovely
weather, don't you think?

Are you hungry?

Whoa! That was close!

That's what
I've been trying to tell you!

Sadly, my findings
were consistent with

all other
past attempts.

No communication
with them seemed possible.

That said, my time
spent in intimate proximity to

these creatures
did indeed help me cope with

the tediousness
of day-to-day tasks.

Once upon a time,
many centuries ago now,

there lived a vicious
tribe of cannibals.

You may think
I'm speaking of your kind,

but in fact,
these cannibals were human.

They would maraud unwary
travelers near their cave.

Their ruthless palate did
not discriminate between

merchant and clergymen;
highborn or low.

Valuables were taken,
flesh feasted upon.

We gotta go
through this again?

Her naming scheme is so weird.

Yeah. What'd she end
up going with last time?

It was Chikatilo and Albert.

In the end, these
cannibals subsisted on

human meat for twenty-five
years, give or take.

Historians suspect
they killed somewhere around

five hundred people
during that time.

That's probably
more victims than

the two of you have
gorged on, combined.

To their
credit, though,

they perfected
the art of preparing flesh.

Steaks cut
from hind-quarter meat.

Leg meat
diced and added to stew.

Belly fat ground
into patties and fried.

Sausages made from blood
clots and intestinal lining.

In fact. One might even suggest

they furthered
the culinary arts.

In that respect they
were distinct from you.

Alas, this tribe
of gourmandizing cannibals

were caught and
executed by the providence

of a single mistake.

In that respect you
aren't so dissimilar.

You both underestimated
your quarry's resourcefulness

and wound up captured.
Victims of your own appetite.

In honor of the cannibal
tribe's notorious leader,

I'm going to christen
you beauties accordingly.

You'll be "Sawney."

You are "Beane."

No need to fret, though.
I'm not going to publicly

disembowel you or
burn you at the stake.

Pleasure to meet you,
Sawney. Likewise, Beane.

Let's be chums, huh?

That's how I came to
name the 7-meter Titan, "Beane,"

and his grinning
4-meter companion "Sawney."

The next step involved
sensory deprivation;

denying them sunlight.

Observing as we do
that Titans are less active

in the nocturnal hours,
we may extrapolate from this

experiment
that the sun is likely

a key source
of energy for them.

Nevertheless,
I discovered a

profound
difference between the two.

Well done, Sawney.

See you in the morning.
Sweet dreams, ya lug.

Corroborating previous
data, Sawney grew notably

sluggish after
only an hour's lack of sun.

My, my, someone's
certainly the night owl, huh?

You're going to
wear me out. Ah well.

This wouldn't be
my first all-nighter

in the name of science.

Beane, however,
still beamed three hours in.

A staggering
find, believe me.

They don't require
food or water to survive.

They possess vocal organs,

but have absolutely
no need to breathe.

The only thing their
bodies metabolize

into energy is sunlight.

Every Titan may have
a different threshold for

sunlight withdrawal,
so I have be careful.

Don't want 'em
dying on me, ya know?

Several have passed
on in captivity

owing to my
ignorance, sad to say.

Two in particular
perished of decapitation

when we accidentally
struck the soft spot.

Poor devils. Chikatiloni
and Albert, their names were.

Such adorable,
ear-to-ear smiles.

What I did to them
was terrible. It haunts me.

I mustn't
let that happen again.

I couldn't bear it.

Yeah, no. Sure.

Carrying on! Physical
contact with them was

the next obvious step,
because I simply had to know

whether or not they
experienced pain as you or I!

Whoa! It isn't necessary for
you to scream, Section Comma--

I can't do this and
not scream, damn you!

Look at him!
He's in absolute agony!

My poor Beane! I'm
so sorry! Hang in there!

It was the
only way to learn

if they
had any weaknesses.

Apart from
their napes, you see.

I hated myself for it.

Sawney. Sweet pea.

I've skewered you
straight through the heart.

Does it not hurt, dear?
Don't you feel that?

Sawney was
more, shall we say

introverted
than his counterpart.

If he felt pain,
he was unwilling to show it.

Go on. Talk to me.

Ow!

For the love of
god, stand clear!

You almost got me that
time, didn't ya, darling?

You want your
head chomped off?

Sawney's
range of expression is,

somewhat
limited, I think.

The only things he
knows to do are lunge and bite.

Commander. All due respect.

But how can you be
so lighthearted about them?

You talk like
they're badly behaved pets.

It's just-- They're
the single greatest threat

mankind has ever faced.

They've nearly
driven us to extinction.

You're a Scout,
you know that.

You've seen them
in action countless times.

True. In fact, more
than my fair share of friends

have died in the jaws of
a Titan, right in front of me.

When I first became
a Scout, I fought them

out of pure,
white-hot hatred.

But one day,
I came to a realization.

I'd kicked
the severed head of

a 3-meter
Titan out of spite.

It weighed
next to nothing.

Might as well
have been a feather.

In the realm of
improbability, that fact would

seem to rank fairly high.

Their, utter strength
argues against it.

And such was
the case with every Titan.

Contrary
to the appearance

of density
and great mass,

the severed limbs
were light as tree bark.

I've been
given to understand that

when you
transform, your Titan body

materializes
as if out of thin air.

It's so bizarre.

In fact, the only
way I can think

to describe it is to say
their appearance stands

in sharp contrast
to their true substance.

We've been fumbling
around in the dark.

Our prime offensive tactic
based on contempt and fear.

We need a fresh strategy,
one guided by knowledge.

A whole new way of
looking at the enemy.

Of course it could be
a complete waste of time.

Still, though. Nothing
ventured, nothing gained.

Joining the Scouts
has been an eye-opener.

Shock after shock.

And it's not just
Section Commander Hange.

Everyone
here's a little off.

It's like I've wandered
into a sanctuary for crackpots.

But-- they're
striving for change.

That's been the appeal
of the Scouts all along, right?

Commander Hange!

If you don't mind, I
think I should hear about

these experiments
in greater detail.

What? Really?

Yes! I want
to know everything!

If I'm going to help
you tomorrow, I'll need it.

Ah. Good point.

Well, I might've glossed over

one or two important
details. Right!

Full disclosure, then!
We may be here a while.

Good!

I ought to start
from our first captured Titan.

That was the birth of
my first hypothesis, you see.

Carried to its
natural conclusion, though,

the experiment yielded
nothing of positive value.

But listen to
me rambling on!

I'm sure you surmised
all this from your training.

They did cover
this stuff, right?

Yes. They did.
Every last bit.

Great!
We can use that as a

jumping off
point for my own theories!

Let us
review, shall we?

Huh? Well, I--

Consider
how the Titans sus--

Section Commander
Hange, come quickly!

The test subjects!

They're dead!
Both of them killed!

Sawney! Beane!

How could this happen?!

Someone tell
me this isn't real!

They were
such valuable specimens.

Is this a soldier's work?

Yeah. But they haven't
pegged the one responsible yet.

They were killed
just before dawn, apparently.

By the time
the guards got here,

the bastard cleared
out on ODM gear.

Whoever it was
must've had a lookout

to warn him about the guards.

Sawney!

Oh dear.

Someone's gone stark
raving mad, haven't they?

How did this--
How'd it happen?

Let it go. This is a matter
for the Military Police.

Uh. Yes, sir.

What is it you think you see?

Who do you think
the real enemy is here?

Ignore me.
Loaded question.
young griff#4056

As the
manhunt for the assassin of

Sawney
and Beane gets underway.

Mikasa,
Armin, and their comrades

in the
104th Cadet Corps must,

for better or
worse, decide to which regiment

they
will pledge their lives.