MISSION: The Rise of Dietrich and the Clash of Briggs

Dietrich grinned as the shadows retracted back to their source. He had almost wanted the being to kill him, just to learn that he had made a mistake. Still, he had other things to attend to.

”Prepare yourself,” Reila says, charging foolishly at him.

”Listen to your commanding officer, General Black,” he says, deflecting Reila’s blades and stepping to the side. ”Lest you prove to dishonor yourself more today.”

Looking at Reila, he gives her a small nod, raising his sword back up in his left hand, his right held behind his back. ”It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lieutenant General Tsukino,” he says with a smile, continuing to toy with her. A swipe here, a dodge there, no matter. She was good, but he, certainly, was better.

”I’m surprised to see you here, honestly. You have the dear Major Galicia back, and now you want more?” he scoffs at her. ”I do say, you Amestrians are all take, and no give.”

Thrust, parry, three steps back. Feint left, move right, and prepare for her next attack.

”So, how many have you killed today? A dozen? Fifty? A hundred? All for the sake of your vision of good, I suppose? Or are you fighting for someone else, for another reason, Miss Tsukino? Some idealistic image of peace?”

Parry, swipe, three steps left, parry. Slide four step’s worth right.

”Are you really surprised that we have attacked, Miss Tsukino? If I remember correctly, a high-ranking member of the Amestrian military declared an act of war during a public event. I even heard it was quite the spectacle, too.” He chuckles, remembering the accounts he’d heard.

Parry, thrust, swing, barrel roll, leap back.

”I’m afraid that there are two sides to the Cretan war machine, Miss Tsukino. As the good Senator Palpatine summed it up, ‘We are Creta; you killed our Prime Minister; prepare to die.'”

Just then, jets screeched once more over the battlefield, releasing their payloads on the advancing Amestrians. Artillery rounds began bombarding anew as reinforcements arrived, flowing to and around the Amestrian push. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand.

”But me? Oh, I thank that man for allowing my dream to come true. And to you? I applaud you for further proving that you Amestrians are selfish and heartless, unwilling to relinquish the power you hold at any costs. I offer democracy and peace, and what do I get in return?” He leans in close, saying with an impish grin, “You refuse, making the choice for your citizens.”

Backing up, he flourishes his sword, still amused with the general. ”And this makes me wonder, do you really believe in what you fight for? As a woman who sends men to their death, can you really fight for peace? As a general who controls more military power than your despicable leader, are you not a tyrant yourself? And, having failed to oust your tyrant leader using said power – regardless of your intentions – are you no better than the Furher herself?”

Spade received the coordinates, but didn't bother looking at them. He sent them with the man, Jesse, who had roused him from his overwhelmed stupor. The russet-haired man (known as Jesse Brakerface) ran off to deliver them to the rest of Central Command that was scattered about in landing helicopters. Besides, now wasn't the time to be sitting around and letting his men die. Spade went to rise when Acra's voice crackled through his discarded headphones around his neck. He yanked them back over his ears and cranked the speaker back to his lips. "Brigadier!!! It's Acra here!" A pause. "Where do you wa-" Another pause. And...silence... Spade waited a moment before leaping to his feet and rushing out of the obnoxiously yellow tent. Fuck fuck fuck... If Acra died too... Seriously. What the hell was life dishing him? FUCK YOU WORLD!!!!! Maybe he was actually fine and encountered enemies he had to sneak passed? "Major Acra Schiwatas reporting in....I'm down...." ...Or not.

"Goddammit Acra, stay with me," Spade barked as he ran, really having no idea where he was going. All he knew was that all Central air crafts had touched ground in the same general area. If one were to run straight into the enemies from there... Spade kamikaze'd that shit and war-cried his way there. "DIE YOU SONNOFABITCHES!!!!" His pistol felled many, and his wires took out more. Twisted bodies and wires piled up behind him and his fashionable shadow (pfft fashionable!? Hardly in this uniform). He eyed a large suit of armor and concluded there was only on--two lunatics on this planet that would go to war looking like a...well, knight in shining armor. Clearly, he had come to save the day for the felled, delirious man who only wanted to watch Vincent's armor melt into a puddle of human sauté. Ugh. What was he going to do with his men. They really needed some booze right about now. Maybe a pretty lady or two...or three...or-- Right, Acra was trying to kill them.

"ACRA cease! It is I your commanding officer, Brigadier Spade Aeries!" He raised a fist in false valor. It was worth a try, right? A blast of wavy air burst up between Acra and Vincent. Spade saw the alchemy form and immediately activated his own, slowing the shot man's perception and thus the alchemy itself. This gave him time to tackle Jay out of the way so he didn't have a deep-fried Head of Power on his hands. "Jesus god, Acra! We need her. Go kill the Cretans if your raring to go so bad! Someone take him to the infirmary already before we all light on fire or something..."

Braaaaap, Braaaap!

Fuck. Shit. Fucking shitballs. He was late. Like, seriously. WHO was late for a fucking goddamn BATTLE?! Okay, so maybe he'd stopped to flirt with a couple of cute Aerugese soldiers. SO WHAT?! They were hotties! There was this one, Kim. He was pretty sure she was from Carriag. Probably because her last name was Malleo. Strange name. Well, anyway. As he continued on his motorbike, streaming down the roads that lead to West City, and then the battlefield. Wait. He just had an epiphany.

Good god, he hadn't gotten her number!

And then... He suddenly heard it. The sounds of jeeps following him. OH, COME ON! The man grimaced, and sped up the Lady-Killer. It droned louder, and he sped past vehicles, the pair of jeeps following with impeding sounds. He looked back to see Aerugese soldiers staring at him from inside. Oh. They wanted blood. The man grimaced, and made for West as quickly as he could.

C'mon, you sonuvabitch... He wasn't going to make it. He needed to face them. Guh. Apos grimaced, and slowed down, slipping a pair of handguns out of holsters on the cycle. Now.

"Shovel, if this kills me, I SWEAR that I will kill you. Even if I have to haunt your ass until you're about to die and then smother you, you will die if I do." The man grinned, and pulled the brake. The bike stopped suddenly, and Apos pushed back, jumping off. The jeeps tried to slow and swerve, and Apos held the pair of pistols up either side of him, as soon as he could. His hands pointed at the windows, and Apos fired.

Two shots merged into one sound. Each shot spread through the vehicles, colliding with the heads of the Aerugese. The sudden loss of control caused the vehicles to spin out and flip, the jeeps landing on the ground on their roofs, making sparks, igniting leaking fuel, catching on fire...

Exploding.

Of course, Apos didn't look at the explosions. Because cool guys NEVER look at explosions. Once the sounds died down, Apos turned back to see the burning wrecks, and wandered slowly over to the bike. He smiled confidently, kneeling down to the bike, touching the heated metal. Good. His baby was still safe. With a grin, he picked it up, and climbed back on.

Vrrrrn, vrrrrrn... The slow rumble of the motorcycle caused Apos to smile softly, and then he pulled the accelerator. The shrill tones of the bike moving began again, and Apos was on his way towards West City once more. He continued the trip down the road, evading cars and pedestrians. He would be there before long.

---

"SHOOOOOOOVELLLLLLLL!" The sound of his voice meant but one thing. Apos Rajan had seen Spade Aeries. And he was almost there. The bike hit a ramp, and was launched into the air, the Lady-Killer easily traversing the distance in the simplicity of it all. A few unlucky Cretans were caught under the wheels of the bike, and Apos skidded to a stop on their corpses. Oh, fuck. First he had zombie brains, and now Cretan blood. When was this shit going to wash out?! He sighed softly, and climbed off of the bike, saluting to Shovel.

"S'rry 'bout the wait, man. I had..." He thought back to Kim, "Shit to deal with before I left South." The muscular blonde thought for a few more seconds, before thrusting his right fist out and breaking the jaw of a Cretan sprinting towards him. He smirked, and sighed. Was his arrival really that unexpected and late? He stared at the people around him.

"...what?"

Jay watched as Acra attacked her, mistaking her for the enemy. "AHHH! What are you doing, I'm with you-" She was cut off by the Head Of Central tackling her to the ground as she felt a bit of her hair singe. "Holy crap, that was close. Thanks a bunch, sir, you saved my life!" Jay was a bit wide-eyed, having almost died. But she couldn't blame Acra, he was a bit loopy from the wounds he'd gotten. If she'd have been given a bit more WARNING, though, she could have gotten out of it herself with some ease. Anyways, she shrugged any un-war-related-matters from her head, and turned to face Spade again. "Sir, anything I can do to help? Maybe rally a squad or something and try to take out groups one at a time?" She didn't really care what she could do, except to do SOMETHING. She'd been itching for some excitement like this for a while, especially since she lost her arm and legs to Creta when she was in Special Ops, 3 years ago. Seeing a few enemy soldiers creeping up on them, she turned, and let a very small pistol drop from her uniform sleeve. It was like a water pistol in appearance, but looks can be decieving. It was actually a pretty strong magnum, and she opened fire, knocking two back, before shooting a grenade into a third one's open mouth with her grenade launcher. Grinning with fire in her eyes, she watched them run in fear for a moment before the group was blown to bits. She then gave a battle cry of "Don't mess with Amestris, scumbags!!" She then turned back to Spade, awaiting orders.

Cironis sprinted. His legs pumping with all their worth. Bullets and shrapnel ricocheted off his automail, as he kept one arm raised to protect his head. Almost there. He could see the golden armor of that pretentious fool gleaming with what light it caught. It helped only fuel the Ghost Wolf's determination to see that "king" six feet beneath the dirt. Cironis was almost there as he grabbed the wolf necklace around his wrist, and smirked as he saw Dietrich's blade. Make his strength his weakness... his smirk grew wicked as his vision began to tunnel, everything within his peripheral began to fade to unawareness, and all Cironis saw was a target. He was vaguely aware that he had let go of the necklace, that someone else was there... that someone who should be wasn't, and that his target was now engaged... Doesn't matter, Dietrich was his. It was only as Cironis was reaching his target, only as Cironis stepped into the split second gap left between Reila and Dietrich, only as the tension behind his automail fist began to uncoil as it flew through the air towards Dietrich did he realize who had just interrupted. Shit... Too late now. Cironis was committed, and couldn't break off, not if he wanted to remain alive.

The only good news about the area was that there wasn't a shortage of sand in the dirt. Since South had been decimated, the whole area around the crater had just been a wasteland almost and the damage from whoever did it had successfully turned South into the world's largest dust bowl. Coming to South to retake it had given her mixed feelings, especially since this was her home. But right now, the only feeling coursing through her veins was adrenaline and the inner struggle not to panic. So far she'd managed to avoid being hurt beyond a few scratches, but survival was killing her in the back of her mind; she fought to live and thereby rescinded on her own codes of nonviolence. Less thinky, more runny!

Shula dropped down and skidded to a halt across the dirt, ducking behind an overturned jeep. She'd run in a complete circle and was successful in getting the attention of a large handful of soldiers that were currently stepping closer to the jeep, the tiny Ishvallan surprised and relieved that they'd missed her up until now. She watched through a small gap as they approached into the massive sandy circle she'd run and scooted back a foot, pushing the brass on her wrists together and pressing her hands to the ground, ignoring the surprised yelps as the sand turned to glass and gave way from the weight, swallowing the soldiers and jeep. The hole was deep enough, but it wouldn't hold them forever, at least not the ones that didn't have a jeep fall on them. Shula activated the arrays on the backs of her hands, pulling the air in closer and encircling the pit with fire. She was tempted to reseal the hole with glass, but she couldn't afford to stay still for so long lest she stop being so lucky.

She panted hard as she ran, ducking down and letting out a small yelp as she just missed a bullet flying past her arm. Think, Bright Eyes. Think think think think think! You can't trap them all in glass holes! And then a thought hit her. If she could get close enough to where they were without getting caught... Shula yelped again, curling into herself tighter to conceal herself better. I'd give one of my good organs for invisibility alchemy right now! The rock she was hiding behind was under fire and she had no time to run to somewhere else unless the guys shooting at her got distracted... and there wasn't much to hide behind here. Taking a deep breath, she activated the arrays again, shooting up a large wall of fire. It wouldn't keep them busy for long, but it'd be just long enough to take a shot to get them off her ass. They continued to shoot, but the fire in their way was just enough to make it harder to aim as Shula moved over the top of her hiding spot just enough to fire. Part of her honestly hoped she'd miss and not hit anything vital on them, but the rest of her brain reminded her they wouldn't stop shooting at her just for asking nicely.

Shula's ass slid back onto the ground behind the rock with a soft thud, panting hard and shaking. She was beyond terrified, and the little mantra of it not being real wasn't working very well. But for the moment inside her thick curtain of fire, she was relatively safe and her shaky hand reached for the small walkie she'd forgotten about in her breast pocket. "Spade... You still out there?" Shula took in a few deep breaths, trying not to sound the way she really felt and shook off the small fear that their boss would leave without them, or worse. "This is Brighton reporting in, Sir! I'm kind of stuck in the middle... Do you want me to continue pushing inward, or regroup?"

His mind was a fog of pain and panic. His body protesting with every fibre of it's being for it to just hand itself over to the darkness and never to wake up. That sounded very good right now but there were people trying to get him and he was so close to going into shock from the poisoning pain burning up his side. His skin was fusing with the cotton of his gloves which where slowly burning up making the alley smell more like burnt skin and rancid blood.

But suddenly a light cracked through his darkness. A voice that made every hair stand on edge and goose bumps to prickle his skin. And oddly made him want a beer right now...well more then usual. The voice was so clear he taught for a moment he might cry. He was safe....well safer as moving caused a whole lot of mank come up his throat causing him to spit it out on the floor between his knees like a child who had eaten to many sweets. But he managed to open his eyes a crack and standing in dishevelled glory. Shining like some holy knight of beer. (And there was totally a guy in knights armour was stood by him too ) His boss! The man he respected with every inch of his being. There stood Brigadier General Spade.

He let his hands fall uselessly to his side hearing them hiss and seeing the smokey steam float off them before he slumped to the side completely spent.

"SHOOOOOOOVELLLLLLLL!"

Did he hear something? Spade shrugged and immediately turned his attention back to the situation with Acra. Jay was watching their backs as he stared intently at the man who seemed way gone. Way. But he was getting up. "Stay down dammit!" Spade attempted, but Acra didn't seem to hear him. Instead, the guy had some sort of smile on his face. Spade studied it, archiving through memories until he found one that matched in the Acra filing cabinet. It was the look Acra gave a fresh glass of beer when it was handed to him after a long day's work. It was a somewhat frequent event...them going out and drinking together. Like when the hell didn't Spade Aeries drink? The Brigadier General grew a sly smile and slunk down to where Acra was sliding in and out of consciousness. He whipped out his handy dandy flask of ultimate godliness and placed it to the shot man's lips. "Heh heh heh heh!!" was Spade's maniacal laughter when the glorious liquid slid down Acra's throat. Sweet glorious god of war, it was beer. Not any beer, but the beer that Spade brewed himself. Oh wondrous beer alchemy! It was a good thing he had thought to bring some with him. Acra was allllll good now. Beer saved lives, you know?

"VINCENT GOD DAMMIT. Stop standing there like a fucking Renaissance museum display and get Acra to the infirmary NOW. Unless you want to watch your fellow soldier's corpse rot!! Then I'll--" Spade's head turned slowly in the middle of reaming Vincent to suddenly notice that a familiar blond idiot was standing next to him like he forgot how to hold a gun. "Yo Apos. Way to be FUCKING LATE. Shit to do eh?! Shit!? I hardly think that flirting up the enemy is shit; it's fucking ludicrous!" Spade's emerald eyes scanned downwards and fell on the Cretan whose jaw was broken. Damn he hadn't even picked up on that going down.

"Don't mess with Amestris, scumbags!!" BOOM. Spade had a semi heart attack. The girl who seemed to love automail turned back to him with an expectant look. Didn't she realize that he was too busy bitching at these lazy fools to give orders at the moment? Ah, hell, whatever. "Jay, I need you to take out their supply base up ahead. Take men with you and take it out. That should hinder them a bit...can't fire without ammo." He took a deep breath and looked back at Apos. "A--" "Spade... You still out there? ... This is Brighton reporting in, Sir! I'm kind of stuck in the middle... Do you want me to continue pushing inward, or regroup?" The broadcast cut into Central's radio silence.

...

"...This is coming from South City, Apos." Spade hissed. "Did you maybe...forget that she was listed to be on your helicopter?" He had to think. Everything was so mixed up; Spade was going to lose his mind. This was why they shouldn't have joined this battle. But at the same time, they had to win it or possibly lose Amestris. He watched waves of his soldiers rush in, slamming themselves into the Eastern advance of Cretan forces. Many would die... He lifted the speaker of his headset to his mouth. "Shula, the battle with South City is over. Apos was supposed to inform you, but he...didn't. Those troops you're fighting are retreating. All we left is a quadrant of South City men under Greene when we went to the West. I'm sending over a helicopter to pick you up now. Don't chase the Aerugese; let them be and you should be safe." He cut the connection, sent a murderous glare at his friend and then switched channels on his radio. "This is Brigadier General Spade Aeries. Send over a helicopter to..." He looked at his radio screen and frowned. "coordinates 4934 in South City. Be quick. You're picking up a blond, tan-skinned female named Lieutenant Colonel Shula Brighton. Thank you. Out." He switched the channel back.

"Shula, there's one on it's way. The number on the side is 489 and it's coming to your exact location. Try not to venture far." He tossed the speaker away from him and smirked, eyes flitting back to Apos. "Let's get the real shit started, shall we?" There was no more anger and no more admonishing. Spade had already let that go and set about fixing the problem.

"Shula, the battle with South City is over. Apos was supposed to inform you, but he...didn't."

Red eyes widened as far as they would go, the irises shrinking to little more than red dots. Her breath held in her throat as she clutched the walkie for dear life, tucking behind that rock as much as she feasibly could, the rest of what Spade was saying fuzzing out of her ears for a moment. Her worst fear had been confirmed. They'd left without her. Shula's heart began to race as her stomach bottomed out. They left me behind... they left me! The words just repeated in her head over and over, her small body beginning to shake harder as the line went quiet for a long moment. Shula snapped out of it as Spade's voice came in again, telling her there would be someone to come and get her soon. She tried not to move from her spot, dreading that as soon as she lowered the fire she would be spotted and shot... not that the flaming curtain was inconspicuous at all, but it was at least a little safer.

"I-I'll be here! This rock and I are becoming good friends..." Shula let go of the button, sucking in a breath. All she could do was wait for someone to come get her, trying to ignore the terrified thought that they wouldn't come. No no... Spade likes you in the office! He cares about all of us! He wouldn't say he was sending someone if he wasn't! She shut her eyes tightly, not seeming to notice her fiery shield dying down as she pulled her arms around her knees. She needed to calm down before her breathing triggered an asthma attack. Without really thinking about it, words quietly began to spill from her lips, Shula's mind trying to cover up the noises and feelings so she didn't completely lose it.

"The sun has fallen and it lies in blood, the moon is weaving bandages of gold... Oh, black swan! Where, oh where has my lover gone? Torn and tattered is my bridal gown, and my lamp is lost. And my lamp is lost..."

"General! We found an Amestrian soldier! We've engaged the target, its an alchemist!"

No reponse came from the the black haired General of Aerugo as he walked among the piles of corpses, the wind that carried the putrid stench of blood playfully tugged at his scarlet cloak and long hair. The blank, empty faces that stared up at him with cold, listless eyes. He looked over each carefully, a judge of the dead, a living man among the damned. "Sir?" said the soldier among several others clad in brown camo uniforms adorned with the crest of Aerugo, symbol of the Divine Empress, and decorated with badges of merit and courage. They were all just pawns of the country they thought they served, all expendable, the sword in the hand of its wielder, foolish and weak minded men. But Raistlin was not their master, he did not seek to control the lives of men, such was the pursuit of the vain and the proud, of the greedy and the weak, fearful of the futility of their existence, they seek to control others to convince themselves of their power, yet the had none. All the superficial officials back at the Imperial palace where just that, and in the end they would die and be cast into the earth, no more important than the soldiers they fancy themselves as masters of. But this held little importance to the General clad in red and black as he walked among the dead. A hoarse moan of pain reached his attentive ears, and blood red eyes abruptly glanced down to meet the fading dim eyes of an Amestrian soldier, covered in the blood of his own leaking life, trembling as he fell into the dark abyss of the unknown.

Raistlin approached this man without remorse or sympathy, his eyes focused not on the glazed eyes of the dying soldier, but instead, upon his arm. Leaning over the man like a shinigami ready to reap the soul, a hand dressed in a golden gauntlet reached out and pressed a finger against the exposed skin of the man's arm, pressing into it lightly, scratching the skin and drawing blood. The man whimpered in pain, but his bullet ridden body had long ago lost its ability to respond after the agony he had already experienced. Set upon his cold intent, that golden finger carved an array into the man's flesh, a mark that he would not wear for long. Gripping the arm tightly over the transmutation circle, sparks of red light and energy flashed briefly over the soldier's shoulder. This time, the man did cry out, a choked and pitiful cry, forced out in coughs of blood due to his previous wounds, but did not sway the Flesheater. As soon as it had began, it was done. The arm of the soldier was no longer his own, it was held in the hand of the Aerugese reaper who stood over him. His dim eyes, hardly able to reflect the terror and shock he might have expressed were he not numbered for an untimely end, he watched as the arm that was his, had always been his, even before his birth, was held in the clutch of the golden armed man. The arm was lifted towards Raistlin's right arm....now, where his right arm should have been. For his red cloak was brushed away to reveal the bandaged stub where a clean cut had been made. "Takeshi" said Raistlin, breaking his spell of silence. The soldier that had come to report to him responded nervously, clearly disturbed by this scene. "Y-yes sir?." he stammered. "Remove my bandages" said the General dismally. Takeshi hesitantly removed the bandages to reveal the blood covered stub, a perfect, straight cut made by the leader of Central forces. Such a nasty wound, that man, Spade Aeries, he was more formidable than sources had indicated. But it was no matter, his attack was made in desperation over something as negligible as a fallen friend, and his efforts were in vain in the end. Raistlin brought the arm in his hand to where his own once was, placing it so that it aligned if it should, were it his own. In another spark of luminous red energy, the arm suddenly began to attach itself to his open wound, first the bone sealed together, healing together in such an unnatural manner, they joined together, followed by flesh reaching out to each other from both sides and melding together, followed by skin reaching out to cover the exposed flesh. It was like watching a scene of a wound healing in fast forward.

Raistlin moved his new arm about, the joints popping as he broke it in. It was perfect, he had already adjusted the placement of tissue and rearranged the slight differences in structure to fit his body. Even the pigmentation of the skin had been altered in order to better match his own. With his new hand, Raistlin drew his CZ75 pistol from its holster, and lifted it up to the head of the now one armed man, and squeezed the trigger, smearing the ground behind him with blood. He died by his own hand, in the end. Turning away without second thought, Raistlin faced Takeshi with a cold, indifferent glare. "I ordered a full scale tactical retreat, our mission was to divide Amestris's fighting power" said Raistlin, glancing over toward the scores of Aerugese soldiers firing at a large formation of rocks surrounded by crude walls of fire. "B-but the Central Army left sir!" Takeshi stammered, "We can still hold S-south". Raistlin shot him a sharp glance, his red eyes piercing Takeshi's, causing the latter to nearly flinch. "Take the rest of the men and pull out, South was never worth holding, its just barren land under constant fire" Raistlin reiterated harshly. And with that, he sett off towards the location of the Alchemist in question.

By the time he reached the walls of fire, they had nearly burnt out, and the rest of the Aerugese soldiers left to join the retreat southwards, leaving the hiding alchemist and the Flesheater Alkahestrist alone. His intent? That depended, he had planned to stay behind and gather some information from any sources he could after the battle, but a straggler was worth more information than anything else he could find.

His gun still in hand, Raistlin stepped over the flames as they died down to cinders and made his way around the boulder. He heard her before he saw her, she seemed to be chanting words softly to herself.

"The sun has fallen and it lies in blood, the moon is weaving bandages of gold... Oh, black swan! Where, oh where has my lover gone? Torn and tattered is my bridal gown, and my lamp is lost. And my lamp is lost..."

He could hear her nervous fear pour forth in her words that were meant to soothe her own state of anxiety, it was easily apparent. But what struck Raistlin as curious was the language she muttered them in. He finished circling the rocks and his eyes met her huddled form. So she was an Ishvallan, then? Her hair was blonde, but her skin was copper, but only one thing could distinguish her heritage. Did she have the same eyes that he had? The eyes that had made him an outcast in a homogeneous society, what would he see in her eyes? Would they be the same as his, full of contempt and aversion? Raistlin raised his gun and pointed it to her as he walked closer, his blood coloured eyes glaring at her with unknown purpose. "Rise with your hands raised" he commanded coldly, his words stiff and slow as he spoke a language he had only read up to this point.

Vincent stepped back from the sudden blast that erupted from Acra. Alchemy, powerful too. Before he could try and convince him that he was an ally, Brigadier General Spade Aeries arrived to cool down the fiery alchemist. "VINCENT GOD DAMMIT. Stop standing there like a fucking Renaissance museum display and get Acra to the infirmary NOW. Unless you want to watch your fellow soldier's corpse rot!! Then I'll--" Spade yelled at Vince, before cutting off with the arrival of Apos. Alexander saluted without hesitation, as he didn't even flinch when his CO yelled in his face. No, instead he went straight to work, picking up the now willing man and carrying him quickly to the infirmary near by. As he walked in, the doctor ordered him to set Acra on a table, Vince laying him down gently. "Recover quickly my friend, I'll kill many of the bastards for you," Vincent said as he walked away, ready for battle once more. He pulled out his halberd, silently praying for victory as he approached the battlefield. "I am the Hammer. "I am the Sword in His hand. I am the Gauntlet about His fist. I am His Right Hand, the instrument of His will. I am the tip of His Spear and the edge of His Blade. Though they are lost, may He guide these poor souls to His grace, for I am His ever vigilant Shield, Guardian, and Warrior. I am the Bane of His foes and the woes of the treacherous. I am the End. May He have mercy on their souls, for I shall have none."

Vincent found enemies a lot more quickly than he had expected, but it was more than fine with him. They had invaded his homeland, even his home city, and he would not stand for this. The squad was hunkered down in a forward flanking position, wreaking havoc for the Amestrian lines. Alexander sneaked up behind the squad, a surprising feat for a man in huge armor like he was. From the nearby ledge, he jumped right into the middle of them, blade pointed at the sergeants throat and gun scanning the rest of the men. "Hello boys, hope you don't mind me crashing this party unannounced." Before they could even raise their weapons, Vincent released hell. In one swift movement, he emptied his entire clip into the squad, killing 5 and wounding another before running out, as well as slicing the sergeants head clean off and reloading. The remaining man raised his gun, quivering with fear as Vince approached. "Do not fear, for I am your Savior," the Grey Knight said as he cut the man clean in to, an expression of pure fear permanently etched on his face. A single bullet pinged off of his helmet, causing Alexander to swing around, gun arm extended at the wounded man on the ground. He stared at his courageous face for but a second, before putting a single round between the mans eye. "Rest in peace," he said before walking away, blood splattered across his armor. Vince pulled out a cloth and wiped it off. "If there's one thing I hate about war, is it's so damn messy."

Jay nodded curtly and saluted Spade as she went off to gather a few soldiers. not many, because she was a danger to large groups of allies due to her... Unorthadox methods. "Aye aye, general." She quickly found a small group of low ranking officers, which she had follow her to the armory she would demolish. She had three braver soldiers take a few pounds of C4 with 2 armed guards each. Then she whipped out her biggest toy-The ultimate destroyer among her arsenal, the Technostaff. A small, thin silver stick, basically, with a crystal and wires at one end, and gears and switches at the foam coated handle. Simple, in appearance, deadly at practice. Only one charge a week, or it will overheat, and after that one blast, no more will be needed for a week, usually. Soon, C4 was placed, and the men had returned, while enemy fire rang out. Two men down, one wounded, Jay had them get back a few dozen feet. Then the party started, as C4 blew, tearing the place up. But then, she held the staff as if it were a pistol, aimed dead center at the surviving center of the armory. Yelling as loud as she could, "TAKE COVER! IT'S GONNA BLOW!" And she flipped the switch. For the third time since it was built, personally by a rich ex-employer of hers, a short laser fired out at the speed of sound, causing a shattering boom. Then it struck metal, obliterating the armory entirely. It was such a huge explosion, it sounded like the building had been nuked! Fortunately for everyone in the area, it was only about the strength of 20-30 KTNT, just enough to blow down the armory. Jay dove for cover immediately, rolling about 15 feet away as a intense heat seared the whole right sleeve of her uniform off, and leaving ashes scattered on her face and body. She then gave a war cry, and jumped back into the fray, guns ablazing, bullets richochetting from her automail. A war machine, born and raised.

The words to the lullaby drifted through Shula's mind and slipped quietly past her lips, blood-coloured eyes still squeezed shut as she hid. She was trying to keep calm and not think about that she'd been accidentally left behind, and that if she didn't fire at the retreating soldiers and stayed crouched behind the rocks, they would leave her alone. Spade said they would, and he hadn't steered her wrong yet. She curled in closer to herself, trying to make herself invisible to the remaining soldiers who had opened fire on her cover, tears filling the corners of her eyes and yelped as a bullet chipped the rock nearer to her. Go away, go away, go away...! They were supposed to be retreating! As her fires died down, slowly the firing lessened and left the tiny alchemist alone and shaking. Maybe they thought they'd shot her and were finally leaving her alone.

"With silver needles and with silver thread, the stars stitch a shroud for the dying sun..." She was beyond terrified, and at the moment all she wanted was to go home. Her home in central with her big, lush garden created by her failed alchemy. Her home at her grandfather's in Meissan with all of its old books and safe, familiar smells. Even her father's home in Resembool, with its vineyard and rooms full of nothing but fabric and thread! And with Amestris under attack in so many places all at once, who knew at the end of the day which homes would be left standing and safe to go back to?

Shula hadn't heard Raistlin as he moved around the rocks, or even opened her eyes to see him have a look at her. The first thing that did register was that someone was speaking to her in Ishvallan, which in and of itself was a rarity. The thought immediately following it was what he'd just said to her, causing her to freeze up (as best she could amidst the shaking) and look up at Raistlin slowly. There was a long pause where the young woman just stared up at the soldier, confused and frightened before she finally came to her senses. Shula leaned up enough to glance over the edge of the rock, and not seeing anyone waiting to shoot her from behind, she focused on the man in front of her with the gun pointed toward her and slowly stood. The walkie fell to the ground from her lap with a soft clatter. She knew better than to reach for it and try to put it back in her pocket, or call for help, but at this point what could anyone do?

The silence was pregnant with feeling, fear and apprehension looking up at cold disdain until she swallowed hard and straightened herself properly, trying to at least seem befitting of her uniform and position and fighting the urge to say something sarcastic lest she be shot. Now was not the time to be running that mouth of hers. "What do you want from me?"

It had begun.

Viktor was already awake when the klaxons wailed, telling them it was time to go to war. Finally! He was feeling a bit cramped within the confines of the base, anyway. And perhaps, if he showed he was a good fighter, he could get a temporary leave soon. He had some… business he wanted to take care of.

Sliding the chest he hid under his cot, he opened it up. It was gorgeous. Nothing like his old combat armor, but still, something hand-made, even cobbled together like the combat armor he had made himself, had a certain appeal to it.

After donning his hand-crafted armor, he grabbed his Sasha, and every shell he could find for it. Loading it up, and triple-checking the safety was on (by pulling the trigger of course), he spun the barrel for good measure. It was time for him to show these puny Amestrians how to fight a battle.

Soon enough, he found himself on a cargo plane, sitting on a bunch of boxes near the back of the cargo area. He was too heavy for a helicopter, at least when it came to how many others could fit in one. He grinned. People apologized to him, without even knowing that this was what he was used to. The other men in the back, preparing their tanks to be dropped, looked at him with curiosity. He had a set of parachutes meant for light vehicles strapped to him, and they were probably curious why. The requisitions officer was curious too, but he didn’t tell them. He simply showed that man his Sasha, and got what he wanted.

Climbing up the ladder, he peered into the cockpit through a small window. He was curious as to how fast they were going, but was disappointed, as a lampshade seemed to be obscuring the speedometer from his position. He had to admit it was a nice lamp, though. Sliding back down the ladder, he sat back on top of a crate, leaning back to rest against another one, and closed his eyes.

Jolted awake by a siren, he felt wind rushing throughout the cargo hold. The last tank had already dropped out, and the plane was changing course quickly. Bolting up, Viktor charges to the ramp, taking his glorious leap into the battlefield. The wind rushed past him as he straightened himself out, falling faster and faster. Then, he pulled the impromptu rip chords he made, releasing three chutes out, slowing his fall considerably, but not enough. He knew the landing would hurt him, but still.

Slowly, he felt the world begin to fade, his inner beast seeking combat. He grinned, holding onto Sasha with his dear life. He’d remember it eventually, and make it into a grand war story, but for now, rest. Looking down, the world faded to black.

Looking up again, he realized he had regained control. Noticing he was away from the battle for now, he took a deep breath, taking the pain as his body reverted to its natural form, his armor feeling a bit loose on him again. Glancing around, he felt… farther South than where he was dropped off. ”Damn bear,” he grumbles. ”No fish for a week.” Taking out Sasha, he reloaded it with six slug rounds, disregarding the blood spatters on his hands, clothing, and Sasha. He could clean it out of two of the three, and might keep it on the third. More intimidating that way.

Stumbling across a crashed helicopter, he couldn’t help but look for survivors. Counting the bodies, he noted that it was missing one. That is to say, it was off from the number of human-like scents permeating form the wreckage. Taking another sniff, he couldn’t help but think of someone. That white-haired man with the stick up his ass. He had run off, and knew he was within a few miles. His scent trail was drifting all around him.

”A man of his ego should be perfectly fine and out of trouble,” he tells himself, eyeing the fancy Amestrian pintle-mounted automated gattling gun, seemingly intact on the helicopter. Reaching over to grab it, he reconsidered, noting the lack of a hold for his front-hand. Sighing dejectedly, he runs off, to rejoin the battle, loosely following Murazar’s scent trail.

Soon, enough, he found himself nearing the front lines. More troops seemed to be arriving, possibly reinforcements, and there were certainly some strange people among them. Looking among the rag-tag looking crew, he laughed. All of them paled in comparison to his greatness, and he would show them.

”Puny Amestrians, step aside! I shall show you how this is done!” Charging head first into battle, he ran past bullets, rockets, and explosions (especially a rather large one, but he felt that it was farther away than it actually seemed). ”Ya dah dah dah dah dah dah dah ya dah dah dah dah dah dah dah!” he shouts, charging past the puny babies in his way for a more worthy foe: a tank. The tank commander was smart and shut the top hatch, letting a forward-mounted machine gun fire at the chimera instead. Bullets ripped past Viktor, hitting his armor as well, but Viktor grinned. It would hold out just a bit longer for him…

Looking down, he leaped, grabbing the front end of the tank. Looking back up, he was met with a main cannon to the face. Electricity sparked along it, and Viktor ducked. What sounded like metal being teared in two filled his ears as a metal slug was launched somewhere into the distance. Feeling safe, Viktor made a face at the driver through a small window before sticking the barrel of is Sasha inside and firing. With a grin, he got up, pumped the gun, and climbed on top of the turret.

Putting Sasha on his back, he heard more bullets whizz past him. The Cretans weren’t taking his fair one-on-one battle lightly, it seemed. Nevertheless, he pulled at the commander’s hatch, trying to get it to budge. With a frown, he sighs, his bones crackling as his body grows larger, a new strength flowing through him. A heavy pelt started covering his skin as his face began to push out a bit into a familiar muzzle.

Pulling at the hatch again, he grinned as he felt it budging bit by bit. Soon, he had it open, with the tank commander looking up at him with surprise. Reaching to his belt, Viktor felt for one last remnant from Drachma: a thermobaric grenade. Pulling the pin from it, he says, ”My name is Viktor Stalin, Armored Bear of Briggs.” Releasing the grenade, he quickly closes the hatch and jumps off the turret, landing on the ground with a loud thud. He grins as he hears the initial explosion, muffled, followed by the hatch re-opening from the concussive force. Standing straight up, he clenches his bear hands and howls up at the sky, ”I want sa’mooooooore!”

Sasha: 5/6 Slug Rounds

Murazar growled as he continued to snap his fingers until skin started to tear, he ignored it. It was just another irritation to the great long list of irritations he had now, he roared at Daigoro as he pulled out a single long battle knife that was half as large as one of the tonfas by only counting the blade. His fingers bled as he snapped his free-hands’ fingers and explosions kept occurring, the darkness swamped them.

The tear Daigoro dropped encouraged his rage that the man gave up, Dai thought or rather knew depending on whose opinion you asked that Murazar was stronger and more powerful than him. Once the Tonfa’s were pulled out and Dai managed a defensive stance Murazar kept himself expressionless. His eyes screamed a wrath so powerful none had seen it before. ” We never met when you left. You coward! You left me a damn note as if it explained everything when it was just lies! You didn’t have the backbone to be confronted by me! You left Rei-chan! You left her! You don’t give a damn about anyone, and for that and other reasons I promise this. I. Will. Kill. You. Today.”

If there was anything, anything at all that always remained true to Murazar Dauthi. He always kept his promises. He flipped the knife so it laid flat against his forearm and he brought his arms up and as he continued to snap his fingers he edged forward before his snapping hand enclosed another explosion behind him. They were both trapped and now it was getting hot as hell. It was like fighting in a stove, Murazar was sweating profusely as he edged forward.

Once he was just barely out of Dai’s reach which was slightly further than his own he dropped to a crouch and charged forward. His explosions stopped momentarily, before his next snap there was an explosion just in-between them. He was insane; they would probably both be hurt by the explosion that had the force and power of a grenade. Now matter the fact that both of them would be hurled by the combustion he tossed his knife just as he flew backwards towards Dai. It would go through the smoke that was created, hopefully due to its silence and now concealment it would strike him.

Murazar rolled several times over backwards on the ground as he had trained and practiced for. He rolled up into a ready position and gritted his teeth. His whole right arm was burned badly in the explosion and his eye sight was beginning to fade in and out. Even if it was slow fading he was worried, just slightly. The fading wasn’t because of any adverse side-effects. It was from the explosion, he quickly realized that if he continued to do suicidal things like that, or even if he didn’t he would probably lose his sight.

That only hastened himself, if he was to become less than fully functionable then he couldn’t kill Dai. He would have to hurry, the next explosion would have to be pointblank and he needed to grab him. He charged forward again snapping his bloody fingers creating explosions all over at random as his eyes searched for Dai. As soon he saw Dai he would continue this fight and take it all the way to the top.

"Yo Apos. Way to be FUCKING LATE. Shit to do eh?! Shit!? I hardly think that flirting up the enemy is shit; it's fucking ludicrous!" ...

The man looked over the side. Okay, okay. So he fucked up. There was no need to shout.

"They're only the enemy when we're in battle. Honestly, I couldn't care less about this war shit. I jes' wanna have a good time." He scratched the back of his head and sighed, before looking out at the soldiers that continued to fight against the Cretans. The man shook his head and closed his eyes.

"Spade... You still out there? ... This is Brighton reporting in, Sir! I'm kind of stuck in the middle... Do you want me to continue pushing inward, or regroup?"

...fuck. That idiot. She didn't. He'd missed the chopper, but he had expected her to have been on there. The man's eyes were downcast. How long would it take for him to get back to South City? Probably too long, right? No... Nononononononononono!

"...This is coming from South City, Apos. Did you maybe...forget that she was listed to be on your helicopter?"

"..didn't forget." was the mumbled reply. He didn't forget. He just didn't know whether or not Shula had actually gotten ON to the helicopter in the first place. Anyway...

"Shula, the battle with South City is over. Apos was supposed to inform you, but he...didn't. Those troops you're fighting are retreating. All we left is a quadrant of South City men under Greene when we went to the West. I'm sending over a helicopter to pick you up now. Don't chase the Aerugese; let them be and you should be safe." He breathed out a sigh of relief. That was always good. He was going to go back, but it seemed that he wouldn't need to now. She might make it back with the help from the helo... He held a hand on his chest.

"coordinates 4934 in South City. Be quick. You're picking up a blond, tan-skinned female named Lieutenant Colonel Shula Brighton. Thank you. Out."

"Alright. The helo's going out, Spade. Listen to me." He placed a hand on Spade's shoulder, staring at his best friend with a frustrated gaze. Yes, he was frustrated. He was pissed off with himself, first of all. He was the one who had left Shula behind, he felt the need to atone. But he didn't try to fix his mistake. There was no way he could. He'd even run it over in his head, he wasn't going to be any help, nor of any use. He would just apologize to Shula after all of this. He'd make sure to tell her exactly how repentant he was. He breathed out, and looked back into Spade's eyes.

"Don't go there. Spade, don't let yourself be broken by anything." He gritted his teeth, clenching his right hand into a fist. He was obviously serious - seeing as he hadn't reverted to his usual nay-saying of "Shovel".

"You can be a complete idiot sometimes. Drunk, ladymongering, everything under the sun that one would see as being fun and bad, you do. But you're also a strong Commander. That's why... I've always wanted to be just like you." Those words finally left his mouth, the words that he'd wanted to say for god-knows how long. He had always aspired to be even half the man that Spade was. Because he knew that, no matter what happened, Spade was someone you could count on.

"Don't give up on us, Aeries. Don't give up on yourself." He stared at the man with angered, sharp eyes. He wasn't going to give up on Spade. So why should Spade have to give up on himself?

Raistlin watched the woman as she watched him, her reaction to his command being quite slow. But he did not make any fuss over her helplessness, her fear and apprehension was understandable, it was human, and he had learned to never expect any more from human nature than what it was capable of. But in the lapse of time in which she had failed to appropriately respond, he found himself staring into her deep red eyes, full of anxious distress. They were the same colour as his own, a deep crimson, yet they were not like his at all. He did not see himself in her gaze. How disappointing, perhaps too much was expected from this chance encounter after all. His own glare did not waver nor did it betray is cold and sharp intent, it pierced into her being as she rose from the ground, her mind and body finally realizing the situation, it would seem. A small device fell to the ground with a clatter that broke the tense silence that enveloped them both and choked the air with stifling suspense. Raistlin noted that it was probably a radio from the looks of it, though he did not inspect further, instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the soldier in front of him. She was an alchemist after all, caution was necessary.

"What do you want from me?" she replied stiffly, returning his sharp stare. Straight and to the point, good.

"I do not want your life" Raistlin replied, his solemn voice tainting the stagnant atmosphere like a cryptic poison. "But I will not hesitate to end it, should you choose to resist" he continued as he started to slowly approach her, gun still pointing at her center, "Now, don't move or speak". He drew closer, his gaze steadfast and steady, until he was directly in front of her. He reached out his hand toward the trembling woman's neck and grasped her dog tags, which he yanked from their chains abruptly. He gave the tags a quick glance and then slipped them into his front pocket. Amestrian dogtags were hardly useful without access to a database, but a hasty look at the patches on her uniform gave him more than enough information to go with. "Brighton, Oberstleutnant. An alchemist and an officer. What would an officer be doing out here by herself?" said Raistlin, not even the slightest hint of mild surprise revealing itself in his tone. With the sharp finger of his golden gauntlet, Raistlin cut another array, identical to the one he now bore on his new shoulder, onto the back of his hand holding the gun, which was still trained upon Shula. He suddenly grabbed her hand with his gloved one, his tight, cold grip preventing her from pulling away, not that she would attempt to with a gun pointed to her chest. Raistlin scanned over her hand carefully, searching for any tattoos or markings for alchemy he might have to slash to neutralize. He immediately spotted the jewelry she wore on her hands and wrists. A sort of mesh material worn across the back of her hand like a scant glove, decorated with the perceptible pattern of an alchemical array. And below that, at her wrist, was a copper bracelet, which upon closer inspection, bore a transmutation circle as well. Without hesitation, Raistlin acted quickly, tearing the mesh from her hand and undoing the bracelet, letting both fall to the ground, and did the same for her other hand with deft control. The mesh coverings were in tatters and he kicked the two bracelets away. Working quickly without pause, he then proceeded to remove her firearm from the holster at her hip, along with her remaining clip. With rapid and sleight movement, he quickly disarmed the weapon, taking it apart and letting the components fall to the ground.

"Now" he began, certain that he had not made any errors in his procedure, "State you objective and your reason for being here". Given her panicked state, it would be easy to assume that she would give him a superficial amount of information in hopes that no harm would befall her. The dire position she was in would leave her feeling vulnerable and fearful enough to not consider the fact that she would not simply be released after giving him what he wanted. Or perhaps she was waiting for backup? That was highly likely, but it was of no matter, he was going to have her detained and fully interrogated in just a moment.

There had been plenty of close calls that day, but the gun from the man before was easily the most dire. She had nowhere to run to or hide, and no time to set up circles and trap him like she had other Aerugese soldiers. But he wasn't just a soldier, was he? Shula's heart was racing in her ears as she breathed out as slowly as she could, trying to keep off an attack; she rather doubted he would time out to let her get her pillbox out of her breast pocket. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her, officer or not, and ignore the more polite rules of battle even though she was tempted to point out that his side lost. Help is coming... I've just got to stall him and keep him from killing me until they're close enough to kill HIM!

She could only watch as he carved an array into his own hand with the claw from his gauntlet; bite her lip, shaking and glaring as he took her tags and mocked that she was very much alone right now and in a place only infantry would have been sent; and resist growling as he ripped away her bracelets and disarmed her in every way. God today sucked. Her eyes hardly strayed from the gun at her breast, knowing that it would shatter her and leave a hole big enough for a fishbowl if he squeezed the trigger. The only noise she'd made thus far was a faint, trembling yelp as he'd grabbed her and fought every instinct to pull as far away from him as possible.

"Now, state you objective and your reason for being here". Why was she here? wasn't that obvious, or had this guy managed to sleep through the war all damn day? The hell kind of a stupid question was that! Help is coming, help is COMING! Come on Spade... Save me from him and I'll do your paperwork for a MONTH easy!! Glaring darkly, ruby eyes shining with anger and fear, Shula took a deep breath for the bravest thing she knew to say.

"Shula Faizah Brighton. Lieutenant Colonel. 061389B45508." Her voice was shaking but firm. Her reason for being in the battlefield was obvious. The fact that she got separated and pushed in too close to Aerugese lines was just circumstance. Name, rank and serial number were what all soldiers had been taught to say. Anything else would be treason, punishable by death. Shula swallowed hard, preparing to repeat herself until the helicopter arrived, not wanting to think of if he shot her between point A and point B. Her heart began to race as the panic began to win, her breathing speeding up and coming in and out jaggedly until finally her body did what she'd hoped it wouldn't and burst into a fit of deep coughs. They were shallow enough at first, but as her throat responded they grew increasingly deep and leaving her gasping and falling down to one knee as she fought to calm herself. Finally she looked back up at Raistlin, not daring to reach for anything and left her hands raised.

"Shula Faizah Brighton. Lieutenant Colonel. 061389B45508." she stated with a soldierly formality, the faint quiver of her voice struggling to maintain its firmness under the intese anxiety she must have been feeling.

How disappointing, did she really plan to stall with that line? Raistlin knew all too well that this was the expected code of conduct for a captured soldier in times of war, for Amestris at least. So this officer may have been cracking under pressure, but she wasn't selfish enough to cooperate willingly, it would seem. Raistlin was sure that if he kept on insisting, she would only repeat the same useless information over and over like an automated message. So did she plan to stall until someone came to rescue her? It was likely, she wouldn't try something so deperate if she didn't beleive someone was coming to retreive her. Then should he simply take her into military custody as a POW and interrogate her for information? Perhaps, an officer could prove to be a useful source of information as well a valuable bargaining chip. But capturing her and taking her across the border could prove to be more troublesome than not if Amestris was to actually pursue, and it would most certainly seem that many of the leaders in power in Amestris acted on personal feeling, complete, utter, reckless fools, with judgement clouded to the point that they would as soon drive their country into oblivion so save a friend, and be none the wiser to it all. So if chance would have it, and one of these asinine leaders was to pursue their retreat into Aerugo, it could prove to be more troublesome for Aerugo then not. While it would be a brilliant opportunity to set a trap, for what Amestris lacked in sense, it made up for in brute strength, and he would rather not let Harumi see her country ravaged by war. So then, taking this woman captive was out of the question. Then what about killing her? She would just be another casualty of war, it made little sense just to turn her loose after taking all the trouble to capture her, perhaps a quick execution would be in order. Afterall, it would just seem like she died in the crossfire, no single person would be targeted for retaliation, they would have less to act on than if he forcefully took her. Then it was decided. His trigger finger stiffened as he prepared to lodge a bullet in her chest.

But abruptly, then woman began to cough, weakly at first, but it grew into a fit of hoarse choking and convulsions that her strength gave way, and she fell to the ground, leaning on one knee, unable to hold herself together. Raistlin met her crimson eyes with his own cold stare, looking on her with an intent interest. Humans are so frail, aren't they? Raistlin mused to himself as he crouched down to be on level with the sickly soldier.

Cautious of the possibility of her illness being feigned, he holstered his sidearm with his gun hand, whilst placing his golden hand upon her neck, the cold metallic gauntlet pressing firmly against her skin, the clawed fingers mere centimeters from touching her flesh with their razor-pointed tips. Raistlin gave Shula a quick glare, a wordless threat that delivered the simple message that if she tried anything at this very moment, he would kill her. With her life held firmly in his left hand, ready to be reaped, the Crimson eyed alkahestrist then undertook the task of unfastening the top few buttons of her uniform, revealing the top of her heaving chest, but leaving her dignity unmarred by indecent exposure. Without much thought to the possibility of perceived lechery in his actions, Raistlin then placed his free hand just above her breast, right over her heart, his warmth mixing with hers as he pressed it there. He closed his eyes and concentrated, his focus shifted towards her body. her anatomy and physique becoming an open book to him. He felt the unsteady breathing reverberate though her lungs, he felt the rapid beat of her heart, throbbing violently against his touch, but further more, he felt her entire constitution down to the smallest of cells as they moved through out her body in a symphony of struggling life.

"Interesting" Raistlin muttered to himself, his eyes still closed as he continued to conentrate on the ailing woman. "Perhaps" he began, his words aimed at his captive, "You and I are not so different after all". Whether she was aware of it or not, this was true, for Raistlin had once been in such a weak and miserable state, his life slipping between his fingers. It was only in his desperation to hand on dearly to what he treasured that he was able to overcome death and save himself. She too, perhaps, understood that feeling, how the her frail body can only remind her of her own mortality. She could prove useful, she just may understand the human condition and the trial of life well enough to serve a purpose for his own ends. A soldier of such rank would have access to the records in Amestris's military and government, as well as the possible chance of uncovering information hidden from all but a select few. Raistlin had always had his suspicions of the Amestrian government, too many events, to many telltale signs pointed to nefarious dealings that they did not want to be uncovered. Somewhere in that country, there were those who have come close to, or perhaps have already obtained what he was looking for. The Elixir of Life, the philophers stone, the key to immortality trancending the wretched and insubstantial confinements of the human body. This woman should at least be useful enough as to play as a pawn of an informant, a foothold in Amestris. This would be the next step to obtaining what he sought. With a faint grin set upon his lips, the array on the back of Raistlin's hand began to glow with energy, and the faded seconds after. It was painless and unnoticeable in its process, but he had marked her days left on this earth.

Standing up, Raistlin left the soldier on the ground, leaving her to deal with her new dilemna, which would be setting in in just minutes. She would be experiencing the final stages of her condition much sooner than she had ever anticipated, this would be the factor that would play her into his hands, her plight was his assurance. "Your impermanence will become clarified to you and you will come to terms with your mortality lest you seek me out." He explained in a stoic manner. He pulled a small radio device from his pants pocket and tucked it into her uniform. "Contact me through the frequency 143.7 within two weeks. You may not have much more time than that". He began to walk away, his back turned to the soldier, now certain that she would not find the ability or will to attack him now. Ten paces away, he halted, and stood silently for moment, deciding to put the final touch to his coercion. "If you choose to follow my instructions, then I will relive you of your suffering, if you reveal this to anyone at all, then I will leave you to succumb to your fate....."

And with that, he walked off towards the transport convoy, his tattered red cloak and raven hair whipping violently as a gust of wind swept over the plains of the south.

[Exit Thread (?)]

Jet nodded to Reila, knowing what he needed to do. He turned to the Northern Command channel, knowing the Ice Queens higher ups would be on it. "Xanthus, this Brigadier General Jethro Black of the Western Army. I have orders from Lt. General Tsukino: Save Mura. She's engaged Lord Dietrich, leader of the Cretan Royal Task Force. I'm en route to support, but she needs you to save Mura at all costs. Good luck, Black out." He pulled his sword to a ready position, clearing the air between himself and the ever taunting Dietrich. The resistance quickly ebbed away, the most Jet had ever taken away at one time. He would move the fastest he ever had, and his sword would find its mark in the Prime Ministers heart, ending his reign once, and for all. All of his anger, all of his frustration, the vengeance that had been burning in his heart since the betrayal of his homeland against his family. All of it collected into him at once, the fury of the entire Black family concentrated into one man. He would not fail, for the fate of Amestris laid in his strike hitting true.

"Mother...father... this is for you," He started, only mumbling to himself so no else could hear. "This is for West City, and the men and women who gave their lives today for this lands freedom," he continued, gradually getting louder as he went, his big voice beginning to carry across the battlefield. "This is for Amestris, for Saga, but most of all, this is for you Lily! IN THE NAME OF MY FOREFATHERS, YOU, SHALL, FALL!!!" He finished, his voice as loud as he could muster. Then with the last of the air in his lungs he yelled a mighty battle cry, the yell carrying across the lines, many soldiers stopping their fighting to hear the tremendous shout bursting forth from Jet's lungs. Just as he was about to charge however, a single man charged out of nowhere, the familiar automail clink of Cironis' steps giving his identity away. Using his charge, Black surged forward, sword extended. There was a difference from his initial plan however, as his blade did not aim for Dietrich's heart, but instead moved to deflect the sword aimed at Sky's throat. "Go brother, lead the forces, defend our borders. I, will handle this monster."

Spoiler:

As the coughing fit subsided finally and left Shula puffing for air, she felt surely that would be the moment she would be shot; even disarmed, she could still try to sweep-kick the man in hopes of taking him down and reversing the situation. Granted, with the gun he still had the advantage, but that at least did increase her chances of taking a shot to the shoulder instead of her heart...unless he missed and hit her head. Still kneeling on the ground, Shula's eyes locked onto Raistlin's, his cold glare going through her to her very core. He was Ishvallan, like her. Or at least half. But he was also part of the Aerugese army. And just as her loyalties laid with Amestris, she knew where his were, and that there was no mercy to be had in their similarities. She tried to remain as calm as her body would permit as Raistlin moved down to eye level with her, confused as he holstered his gun. He hadn't killed her yet, but he wasn't going to shoot her.... But why?!

A cold gauntlet wrapped around her throat, eliciting a faint, terrified whimper breathing out under his fingers. She'd already watched him carve an array onto his hand with one of those claws without any issue; five sharp points going down across her throat would mean a painful, messy death here behind the rocks. If looks alone were enough to kill, she'd have been dead by now, her captor's cold glare making her skin crawl and stomach bottom out. She wanted to throw up, but not as badly as she wanted to be have some magical ability to transmute a weapon out of nothing, stab, and then run like hell. Shula swallowed hard, shaking and her chest heaving up and down in terrified breaths, her eyes widening like saucers as Raistlin began to undo the top few buttons of her uniform. Her stomach bottomed out, blood running cold. ....Seriously?! Shoot me if you must, you bastard, but maintain a few morals!! Her breath held for a moment as Raistlin's flesh-hand pressed at her exposed skin above her chest, the tiny officer frozen beneath him in pure fear for her life, dignity and purity. She could swear she could hear her heart pounding in her ears, threatening to deafen her. She didn't dare pull away further than her body did naturally with every shaking breath and sat in confused silence as his hand never moved from her heart.

His eyes were closed, and he was just... holding her there. Was he waiting to see if she'd struggle to save herself, or scream out for help? Her mind was swimming as she tried to remain calm and focused, silently praying for the helicopter she feared would never come for her, and her mind couldn't help but flash to happier, safer places than this one. Her chaotic office, and the lunatics she worked with. Working in South had brought her out of her shell enough to start to be unafraid to live her life for herself, and moving to Central had helped heal the wound of losing that family that she would never stop missing. Central had become her life and blood, and the people she worked for the reason she breathed. The secretaries who would rush to her office to share the gossip or ask her for advice. Afternoons in the Fuhrer's office playing chess or going out with Hild to go have fun. Beers after work with Spade and the fun she always had barhopping. She never had properly thanked him for all the times he'd dragged her out of her home to go to bars and watch drunk friends caterwaul to some pop song. Acra always coming in to have lunch with her on the roof, or bringing her treats at work and visiting at home when she was sick. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, Shula's body beginning to shake harder as the gravity of the situation began to really sink in. It's just like back in South... I never got to say goodbye to Gustav before he died, and I was away when everyone died here where I'm standing now! I never got to...... And I'll never get to tell everyone at Central either, will I? A thin stream of liquid slipped down Shula's cheek, her eyes squeezing shut, part of her wishing he'd just kill her already and quit torturing her with agonizing suspense.

"Perhaps you and I are not so different after all" Raistlin's voice broke the silence before saying nothing again for a long moment. Was he going to spare her? All he'd done was feel her heart beat, but she was just as alive as he was, so that was nothing spectacular.

"I'm nothing like you," came the whispered, trembling reply, red eyes locking on him angrily. Despite going against her pacifist nature and taking lives today in order to ensure her own was preserved, she also did it for the good of Amestris so that her own country would survive. She hated it, and felt filthy inside for it. But that was a cost she knew she'd have to pay when she signed the papers and gave herself to her Fuhrer to use as she saw fit. There was a faint glow from the array on the man's hand and then a long moment later, nothing. The glow was gone, but that smile... That cold, mirthless grin that seemed to drip poisoned ice sank through her heart as he stood up, leaving her there at his feet, oddly unharmed. What... What in the Nine Hells was THAT?! Shula looked up to him, arms immediately moving to cover what little of her body had been exposed.

"Your impermanence will become clarified to you and you will come to terms with your mortality lest you seek me out. Contact me through the frequency 143.7 within two weeks. You may not have much more time than that." A small radio was tucked into one of her larger pockets, Shula feeling more and more ill with every breath. Wait... Mortality? How did he know? Unless... What was that array on his wrist doing?! Her eyes widened fearfully.

"..What have you done?" Shula's voice was shaking and faint, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. He'd done something to her, hadn't he?! What have you DONE to me?!" Shula sat up higher on her knees as Raistlin turned and walked away from her, leaving her alone behind the rocks to wait on the helicopter that Spade promised was coming for her.

"If you choose to follow my instructions, then I will relive you of your suffering, if you reveal this to anyone at all, then I will leave you to succumb to your fate....." Her heart stopped. The world stopped. He was bluffing, he had to be. There was no way he could really... Could he? A hand slipped down to where the walkie had been placed, feeling it numbly as though making sure it were really real and she hadn't just hallucinated this encounter. Shula braced her shaking body against the rocks, standing unsteadily for a moment until her knees buckled beneath her as her body finally caved and began to heave. Her body had never coped with vast amounts of stress very well, and the Military was nothing but. But most of the time the stresses in her office could be dealt with, or divided between herself and the people who worked under her and finished easily. And then if nothing else at the end of the day that stress could go away by going out for beers with the guys. But this... coming to her childhood home, fighting and killing to take it back, seeing so many of the people she worked with daily falling around her and succumbing to nothingness, and then this nameless man scaring her half to death and telling her she had two weeks to comply... It was all too much at once. Shula clutched part of the rock's side with one hand and her abdomen with her free arm, gasping and coughing between lurches until there was nothing left to purge within her but the horrible feelings and fear as Shula tried to assure herself that she was fine and he was bluffing. Finally she rocked back down, catching her breath and wiping her eyes and mouth as a familiar, wonderful sound caught her attention.

She honestly couldn't be happier to see that damn helicopter as it touched down, a tall young man from Acra's department ducking as he hopped off and ran over to Shula. He approached quickly, looking around through the scope on his rifle before looking down to her. "Ma'am, Spade sent us to come get you! Are you alright?" He looked her up and down, noticing quickly she'd been completely disarmed, looked a mess, her uniform coat was half undone, and her lunch and breakfast was puddled at her knees. Shula braced herself once more, slowly coming up to her feet, hardly noticing how she must have looked. "I'm fine, Konrad. I'm so damn happy to see you guys... Apos owes me ice cream." She let out a faint, nervous laugh, trying to make light of what just happened as she moved to get into the helicopter as quickly as possible, forgetting entirely about her dismantled gun and bracelets. Konrad tilted his head, growing a bit more concerned and gathered the two bracelets that weren't ruined and the parts of her gun before running to join them on the helo.

Shula leaned against the inside wall, shaking and staring out distantly as they lifted up to head back to the rest of Central's forces. She didn't say anything. About her encounter, the array, the walkie in her pocket to talk to whoever he was, or the threat. She couldn't, and was still trying to grasp that it was very real. After several long minutes, Konrad had silently reassembled her sidearm and held it, the clip and bracelets out to her and looked all the more worried when she yelped as he touched her shoulder. "Lieutenant Colonel? Are you sure you're alright? Do you need to go to the infirmary when we get there?" Shaking hands took her things and almost struggled to re-clasp the bracelets, nearly missing putting the pistol back in the holster. Shula sighed heavily, closing her eyes and leaning her face in her palm. Her voice, usually so warm and happy, came out flat and distant.

"Captain? Drop it. Please."

Spoiler:

This is a story from four years ago.

His footsteps sprinted through the halls of the household, taking corners through familiar passageways. He was carrying himself towards the front of the mansion - but each step seemed to drain him further. Why was he running like this? The family had told him never to run in the hallways. His father, specifically, had told him that to be polite was an Alchemist's prerogative. But now was not the time for politeness. He grabbed the corner of a wall, slamming his hand on it and turning the corner sharply, sprinting down the stairs as if the feeling of an incline didn't remain.

Have... to... get... to... them... The red eyes spoke only rage. Only anger fueled this boy's footsteps. He... was shattered by their words. They had told him that they refused to allow him enter the Military. Not only that, but they would immediately disown him if he did. He was, to say the least, destroyed. His only dream had been to join the Military, make his Father proud. But the look on his Father's face when he told him that he wished to join, had been horrible. It had been awestruck, as if all of his stories about the horrors that the military had just gone over his son's head.

But what had truly sunken this boy's heart was the change in his expressions. First surprise, disbelief, shock. Then came sadness... and then anger. Dai had never found this man to be angry at him before. The feeling that came with it caused him to shrink back, recoil in horror. His father had shouted at him, telling how much of an idiot he was. How joining the Military would only cause him pain. How he'd find no end of grief. He... couldn't help but run off. He had to hide his face, maybe he could try again later? But when he heard his parents discussing going out, he had a flash. He needed to tell them the truth of how he felt right now. He felt sick to his stomach, but the anger was real. Maybe not perfect, or justified, but real. And so he was running. Down the stairs and out the front doors of the household that his parents had. They had already gotten into the car, were already on their way out. So through tears streaming down his cheeks, he could only shout.

"I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU BOTH! ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS PLEASE YOU! I HATE YOU! I WANT YOU BOTH TO DIE!!!!" Those words left his throat, and were lost to the wind. Daigoro Ito fell to his knees and cried like he had never cried before. But with that, he also felt relieved. Glad that he could get it off his chest. When they returned, he'd apologize to them. Try to work out a compromise. He knew that it would work... He smiled softly though the tears, watching the drips land on the ground.

But they didn't return. Hours passed, and they didn't return. It wasn't until that night that he received a call, waiting on the couch for them. He picked up the phone with shaking hands, prepared to tell whoever was on the other end that his parents were still out.

"H-hello?"

"Is this Daigoro Ito?"

"Y-yes..."

"This is Sergent Gunter Davis of the Central City Police Force..."

For the next ten minutes, Daigoro listened in horror. He couldn't speak, save for the occasional 'yes' or 'I understand'. He had been told, through some voice on the other end of a phone line, that his parents had been involved in a crash. A truck had run a red light, sped through the intersection and hit them side on. They would've died on impact. They never had a chance. As Daigoro spoke his farewells to the police officer, he placed the phone down on the jack, and broke into tears again. He cried like he had cried earlier. It was his fault. He didn't know why, but he felt that it was indirectly his fault, as if the hate that he had felt before had affected the world. As if his hate was what caused that truck to... truck to...

He stood up, taking slow steps. He walked through the halls, not seeing any more familiarity in them anymore. They held nothing for him now, nothing but memories. And that... after tonight, he would only be a memory. The door to his Father's study clattered open, and red hair bobbed into the room. He moved to the drawers, sliding out the top one, taking the small revolver that he knew his Father hid in there. Taking the safety off, he held it up to his head, closing his eyes.

With this... I can end it all, right? His right hand was shaking profusely, sweat dropping down the flesh. No, no, no, no, no!

"No!" He threw the pistol out to the side, the metallic handgun colliding with the wall. He sighed softly and re-opened his eyes. That wouldn't honor their memory. The sixteen-year old breathed out. He didn't want anything like this to happen again, and killing himself would be the easiest way out. If anyone he hated died, and he didn't want anyone to die, then wouldn't killing himself be a bad means and not fulfill the end? No, it was simple. All he had to do was change.

"I make my oath here..." The redhead turned around, walking out of the study. He would become a soldier. That was what he wanted to do, it would be in his family's honor.

"I shall no longer feel hate." Steps resounded through the halls, his words going to nobody and nothing, bar his heart.

"Nor shall I feel despair." His hand reached out and touched a rail, the red eyes staring over the empty lobby.

"On your deaths, I make my oath. I am to be the wall, that stands between those I love and those who they would hate. I will kill, but only to protect those I care for, I will have no enemies of my own." It was a foolish oath to make, but Dai believed it purely. He would hold it to the end, whenever that was.

This was a story from four years ago...

Spoiler:

"So why am I feeling this now?" Dai's mind was being overwhelmed. Explosions threatened to eat his flesh, and Murazar himself was now drawing another knife. Luckily, his own ionic field was holding up, so he was more likely to deflect any attacks made with that sort of weapon - however if it was being propelled by Mura's own physical force, then his shielding was useless. The redhead stared deeply into the eyes of the other man, that rage he could see from him was something he abhorred. He didn't hate Murazar. He thought that Briggs was his enemy, and his mind had told him that in the first place. But right now, he just abhorred that hate that Murazar, that all of Briggs felt towards him.

”We never met when you left. You coward! You left me a damn note as if it explained everything when it was just lies! You didn’t have the backbone to be confronted by me! You left Rei-chan! You left her! You don’t give a damn about anyone, and for that and other reasons I promise this. I. Will. Kill. You. Today.” ...what? No, he didn't need to think about that. Right now, all he needed to do was protect himself. He didn't want to kill Murazar, not like he had originally thought...

Briggs wasn't his enemy, he was an enemy of Briggs!

The heat increased, Dai and Mura trapped within a series of explosions. The redhead had to move his body slightly, trying to evade the heat that was causing the sweat on his face to not only appear, but evaporate almost instantly. His red eyes stared where he had known Murazar to be before, breathing falling heavily from his lips. His heart was beating rapidly, and a small patch of skin on his left arm was already burnt, flesh melting, if ever-so-slightly. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain.

The explosions stopped for but a second, the redhead trying to use this time to his advantage - gain distance. His Alchemy was lethal to the touch, but it had it's applications in the distance as well. if he could get far enough away...

"Argh!" Another explosion - between him and Murazar. The red-eyed Alchemist raised his arms up, and was blown away from the blast - the skin on his left arm was far more mangled and burnt, and small black patches came to light on the automail. He rolled back along the ground, not noticing the knife that came out from the smoke. It came directly for him, only slightly moved by the field - but enough that it missed anything vital. It sliced across his back, and he shouted out, tears coming to his eyes from the pain. He got up onto one knee, one eye closed. Sounds zoned in and out. His hearing must've been affected by the explosion itself. Dai spat out blood, and stood up slowly. He finally got completely to his feet, shaking on the spot.

More explosions were coming, and Dai knew that Mura was after him. He forced his mind into motions, and made his attempt to move. His already exhausted body moved at a speed that he didn't expect, and instead of running for the explosions, he ran away from them. He didn't want to die. There was something missing. There... was something... missing, but he didn't know what it was. So he let his feet carry him. His mind was telling him where to go, and his body complied. He fumbled his way through Cretarian soldiers, tears streaming down his face, pain in every motion. He tripped once, but managed to get up again, body not giving in. It was this way, even if he didn't know what "It" was. Then he saw the back lines. And... the clashing of swords. Red hair, and a familiar face. Why was that face so... No.

He should hate that woman. He should want to kill her. But he doesn't. Because it's unbecoming of him. Briggs is the enemy, right? The redhead shook his head. So what? If Briggs was the enemy, then he would crush their leader. He would stop Dietrich from doing the dirty work, and he would do it himself. And so he started to move faster, eyes dead-set on the woman that he now saw. His footsteps carried him another few meters, until there was but fifty feet separating the pair. He sent energy to his screaming lungs, and shouted out, not caring abotu Dietrich, Jet, or anyone else that was there. All that was on his mind was her.

"REILA!" As the words left his lips, he felt it all come back, and... Daigoro turned away. The explosions were still approaching, following the path that he had sent through the soldiers. Pity. He really had led Murazar to where he was intending on going. Dai sighed softly, and placed his right hand into his right pocket, as if casually waiting. He would deal with Mura first... so he needed to wai...what? Something scraped against his Automail. Something small, hard. He brought it out, red eyes studying the red stone. A Philosopher's Stone? What? When? Why? No need to think about it now. Dai dropped to his knees. He would use this. He didn't want to kill Mura, so he would simply separate them. He clicked the fingers on his left hand ten times, building up static electricity. He placed the hand on the ground, and the Stone on top of that hand.

"I make my oath here. I shall no longer feel hate." Red electricity spread out, fifty feet across, ten feet deep, ten feet wide. His eyes sharpened, as every molecule of iron that existed in the soil in this area was magnetized. No, not just magnetized. Destabilized.

"Nor shall I feel despair. I make my oath here. I shall never forget it." The magnetized iron suddenly completely destabilized, exploding within itself. Soil rose into the air and collapsed, creating a great ditch between Dai and Murazar. He breathed out, and shakily rose to his feet, pocketing the Stone. He would think on that when this was over. He turned towards Reila, and smirked.

"Ice Queen of Briggs. I believe that I'm supposed to be your enemy. Don't know why, but I don't feel like that's right. None of this, feels right to me anymore..." His eyes were downcast, red locks falling by his side, fists clenched. The suicide attack from Murazar, this entire battle, it all felt wrong...

Reila's sword sung a tale of violence as it was thwarted again and again by a man whose arm was behind his back. Flashes of sharp silver reflected garishly through golden irises, mixing into something hardly human. The man known as Dietrich was rambling over the cries of their weapons, but his voice did not reach the girl like it should have. Her teeth bared as pants forced their way through the cracks--her only reply to the absurdity his words carried. Anger was replaced with desperation, hate was replaced with determination, and the hilarity of his monologue was replaced with a terrifying smile across her face. She felt laughter escape from the back of her throat, eyes shining brilliantly with the intent to kill. "I am a tyrant." She side-stepped and flung her back foot out, pivoting on it. Her tachi flipped on its side in the grip of her callused hands and parted the air above Dietrich's head when he ducked. Her smile increased.

"However, I would like to educate you." She lowered her sword and sheathed it with a single, fluid motion. Her right hand hovered about the hilt and she took a wide three-point stance. Anyone who really knew Reila also knew that this was her fastest, most dangerous kata. Her fingers suddenly tightened against the sharkskin. "I am not Amestrian. And I am certainly here to give, but you seem not willing to receive. Yes, I may have killed more than a hundred people with my own hands for some scanty vision of peace, but I did it to protect those I care about." The sheath flipped upside down in her belt. "And I don't regret a single one!!" She let go of it and switched her grip with godlike speed, metal rippling like ribbon through the air and the distance between them. She watched with vicious eyes as Dietrich just barely got out alive, bouncing back with a fresh attack. Slightly shocked, she too nearly greeted death's door, pulling out with a deep gash across her thigh. More blood to add.

Had she almost forgotten what Briggs looked like? Just how long...had they been here? White snow filled the insides of her eyes--an expanse of never-ending. Her life...her friends...her comrades...her family. They had only ever fought to protect what they knew. Her eyes widened and she suddenly felt as if she understood this mislead man. He was right: Amestris was treading a path bound for destruction, but was Dietrich going about it the right way himself? He too was killing many in the name of something previously unknown. She stilled her blade and stared him directly in the eyes. "Never have you offered democracy or peace, Dietrich. If that was the case, our swords would have never crossed." She pointed the tip at his throat and offered him a nasty glare. False bravado made her sick.

"This is for Amestris, for Saga, but most of all, this is for you Lily! IN THE NAME OF MY FOREFATHERS, YOU, SHALL, FALL!!!" A voice shouted from the depths of the war ravaging around them. Reila flung her head around to see that an Amestrian solider had wedged himself between her and Dietrich and was preparing to end it. She watched with horror as the Cretan's sword swung at the newcomer's neck, almost severing it from his shoulders. But the glorious sound of metal clashing with metal, saved his life. That voice had been Jet's. She smiled to herself and thrust her sword between them. Together--they would fight together to save everyone.

"REILA!" Her heart skipped a beat and the world grew blurry.
...
"Uhm... Let's see... Brigadier General... Reila Tsukino. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find her, would you?"
"How many girls have I been with? I lived in a basement for 17 years, learning and such. I only got out three years ago, and those three years were basically devoted to become a fully-fledged State Alchemist. So the answer to that would have to be zero. Complete and utter zero."
"The people need you. You command respect, and that's all they need. Even if you don't feel that way, you need to show them that you're strong."
"Ah, well. We all have our own scars to hide, now... And you don't have to be alone, remember that. You have crutches, known as subordinates..."
"Y'know... If today wasn't our day off, you could both be court-martialed for something like this... But seeing as it is our day off, how is everyone?"
"I'll get... Sixty shot glasses, filled with your strongest vodka, and split onto three trays. One tray for me, and one each for the lady and the other drunk? It's simple. Whoever passes out last, wins."
"Heh... I'm not going to sleep any time soon, mind if I watched Lord of the Rings with you?"
"Alright boys, we're gonna be going in fast and hard. We want Father dead BEFORE the Central forces get back, alright? Not after... Because then we're fucked. Up the ass. Without lube. Alright? Good."
"Oh, fine. Reila, I want to go on a romantic picnic with you out in the mountains. Will you come with me?"
"And don't think because you're half naked, I'm going to be distracted..."
"You know... After everything... We're still a team. We're two of the original Briggs Brigade members... And after everything, after all the deaths, all the war, all the bloodshed is over, we may not be a team anymore. But one thing will never change. Reila, you know I will always love you."
"Leave my girlfriend alone, bitches."
"When I told you to bring something nice... Oh, never mind. You smell nice, though. That new perfume?"
"I... I love you."

The rose...wasn't a rose. It was Dai. And there was Dai running towards her. Her tachi fell from her hands and clattered to the ground. No longer did she see anything but that figure running towards her. Wet hands clasped her wordless mouth, holding back the sobs that wracked her body in torrents of shock. The ground kicked up in a cloud of blinding dust and separated the redhead from Mura who seemed to be running after him in a fit of flames. Why...why was it like this? Reila was drowning. She was drowning so deep that no longer could she that the sun existed. She didn't realize she was on her knees until she was clutching the grass in fistfuls as if it would root her to reality.

"Ice Queen of Briggs. I believe that I'm supposed to be your enemy. Don't know why, but I don't feel like that's right. None of this, feels right to me anymore..." That smirk...he was right in front of her. Right there. Standing there. She could reach him. Right there. Her hand twitched, but couldn't move. She stared at him through wet eyelashes, trying to breathe in tune with her racing heart. It hurt. It beat so fast it hurt. "I believe that I'm supposed to be your enemy." She sucked in a quivering breath and opened her mouth, but nothing came out except more tears. It hurt. It hurt so much she was sure she wouldn't survive.

"D-Dai..." she sobbed out, reaching out to touch the scuffed boot of his right foot. She looked from her hand and back up at his face. "W-why..." Why had she forgotten him? Why was he wearing a Cretan uniform? Why wasn't he beside her? Why was Mura trying to kill him? Why were they fighting? Why...why did it have to be this way? She let go and slammed her fist into the ground next to his boot. "I-I..I loved you!!!!" She yelled at him, throwing herself to unsteady feet. The pressure forced the slash on her thigh to bleed anew, but she hardly even noticed. "DAI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her head in his shoulder. "N-Now...you're the enemy? Have--have you forgotten too?" She let go, trying to breathe, trying to live...just trying to exist without her entire being falling apart at the seams. Nothing was but it seemed. Her own memories...were eating her alive. The hole was being filled--the gap breached. She hadn't felt whole...and this was why. This...this piece... Dai... Dai. "You betrayed Briggs." She wanted to die. Jet was distracting Dietrich, but she almost wished he wasn't. "And...and m-my heart..." Reila barely managed to get out and grabbed her radio, switching it to Briggs' frequency.

"X-Xan, I... Dai he--" Her fingers dropped from the headset. Had he known? Had...he known all this time? Since she woke up? Since... since when!? Xan...did he know? "Mura," Reila sobbed. "help me..." But now there was another hole...and it separated them.

"D-Dai..." His heart stopped. Just like that. That one word. There were tones in that voice that he couldn't understand. She hated him. She was supposed to be his enemy. She had cast him out of Briggs. So why? Why was she like this? Why was the woman he had once – no, still loved on her knees like this? Was there... something he was missing? No, there couldn't be.

"W-why..." Why, what? He had been cast out of Briggs. He had been shown to be their enemy. So why would she want to know why he was before her? It really didn't bring any thought of understanding to the redhaired man. He didn't understand. He didn't understand. Why was she acting like this? WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY?!

"I-I..I loved you!!!!"

Ba-thump. No, that was a lie! She had fallen out of love with him! That's why he'd been cast away from there! She couldn't bear being in the same place as him, so she sent him away! It was all true! His mind was telling him that exact thing!!!! He closed his eyes and stepped back slightly, looking around to try and find an escape. He had to tell her the truth. WHY DIDN'T SHE REMEMBER?!

"DAI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" A body threw itself at him, and his eyes widened. What. The. Fuck. Was. Going. ON?! He wasn't just confused, his heart was beating at a rate that he'd never felt before. Despite the blood and sweat on her, Reila's scent still filled his nostrils. It was a nostalgic scent, one that reminded him of how much he had loved her. No, who was he kidding. How much he still loved her.

"N-Now...you're the enemy? Have--have you forgotten too?" The enemy? Why was he the enemy? What had he forgotten? His mind was... no. No. There was nothing wrong with him! He'd been cast out!

Is it coming to you, yet? Eh?

"You betrayed Briggs." NO HE DIDN'T! HE DIDN'T! HE WAS SENT AWAY! HE WENT TO CRETA, TO A MAN WHO CARED! Wait... those words sounded so false... He went down onto his knees, eyes closed. The wound in his back caused the redhead to cringe. This wasn't right. This wasn't right. This shouldn't be how it was. He should be by her side like he always was.

Like I always was? He began to ponder further over that thought, when it came to him. Out of her mouth, of all things...

"And...and m-my heart..."

BA-THUMP His eyes widened, and tears started to slide from beside the red orbs. It's unknown as to what caused it, but Dai's head suddenly started to hurt. Not just hurt, but throb. Uncontrollably. His eyes widened further, and a pair of hands went up to the sides, holding on tightly. He leaned forwards, and screamed. It wasn't a bone-chilling scream, but a scream of pain. His mind was beginning to resist the inception. Dietrich... may have taken Dai's body. Dietrich... may have taken Dai's mind. But there was one thing, only one thing that mattered.

Dai's heart was still Reila's.

Why did I come to Creta? What was my reasoning? It was because Briggs hated me, right?

Wrong. It was for her.

But it ended with her tears. Which meant that I did the wrong thing.

She remembered you. Is that not what you wanted?

No!

Eh? But...

I wanted to be happy with her. I thought that this would work... But it didn't.

So you remember, now?

Only a few things. I'm still convinced that Briggs is the enemy.

Really? Feel in your right pocket. The redhead's hand went into his pocket, gripping the stone tenderly between a pair of metallic fingers.

You remember me? That's why the voice sounded familiar. It was Xan's. It was coming from the Stone, and it was the Souls within speaking to him... He was going crazy, wasn't he? He gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes – a scene coming before him.

"Did you know? When I became Pride, seventy-five souls were collected into my body. This is some of the power of those souls concentrated into a Philosopher's Stone. If you're so willing to risk your one human life, then surely I can be willing to risk a few out of my dozens of Homunculus lives. The Stone is yours to use in your efforts if you desire it. Perhaps it could help bring her memories back? Maybe another alchemist could use it to do the same? If not, then you could use this to keep yourself alive when the inevitable war begins." The scene that occurred on his last day in Briggs flashed before his closed eyes. And he remembered the truth. There was no enemy to be held in Briggs. He knew why he came here. He knew why he did this. The redhead's screams died down, the mental strain shattering. He slowly clambered to his feet, staring directly at Reila with a pair of eyes that screamed pain. He reached up to the zipper on his uniform, remembering why it felt so hot. The zipper dropped, and the Cretan uniform was stripped, revealing a blue. Amestrian Blue. A small sigh left his lips, and he spoke a clear and concise sentence.

”Reila. You know me.” A smirk. ”Do you really think I'd betray you? I love you. I've always loved you. In fact, there is nothing that I would hate MORE than betraying you. I wouldn't give up something as deep as that for that royal bastard over there.” He reached a hand up to his ear, and unclipped the earpiece that connected his radio. He stepped past Reila, and looked over at Dietrich and Jet, speaking loudly and clearly.

”You two, listen to me. Dietrich. There is something you need to know.” A pistol shot, and the bullet was deflected from hitting him by his ionic field. ”I was never on your side. I had never intended on seceding from Briggs, save cosmetically.” He made sure his words were clear. He needed both Dietrich and Reila to understand.

”My first intention... was to get Reila's memories back. I foolishly thought that you had the key to bringing her back, but it seems that there was less to it than that.” He sighed softly, scratching the back of his head. ”When I left Briggs, I felt something twitch. Something break. I wanted to bring Reila back to me...” He chuckled, ”But I also wanted you to feel the pain that I felt. I had my heart wrenched in two from those actions, and I couldn't do anything about it, save give it back to you. But I see that the little bit of pride that you have as a fucking King is what would keep you from doing anything. So, instead, I decided on crippling your fighting force.” His eyes closed for but a second, and he moved the earpiece over to the specially modified transmitter, clicking it in and causing it to beep.

”I can't bring myself to kill you. Call it whatever you want, I call it ideals. But I'll tell you this now. It's... call it a simple warning.

I. Am in love. With Reila Tsukino.

I. Will always be. In love. With Reila Tsukino.

Do. Not. Fuck. With. My. Girlfriend.” His eyes were filled with rage, and he turned the earpiece, readying the bombs within the supply trucks. As soon as they exploded, he would attack. He wouldn't kill Dietrich, but he would be sure to show him the pain that he had experienced over the past while, separated from the woman that he loved in every way possible...

Through the sounds of battle, through the sounds of machine gun fire ripping through the air, the sounds of the artillery firing their massive payloads and the sounds of the railguns firing their supersonic rounds, the sound of clapping could be heard. The claps were deliberate and slow; someone meant something important with each one. Bullets flew in the direction that the claps were coming from as men shouted in voices that reflected shock and perhaps some fear. A light snap and a gentle hum followed the sounds of the machine guns fire and suddenly the bullets stopped in mid air, which seemed to make the soldiers response pass from shocked to frightened. The footsteps of two males might have been heard had the battlefield been still and quiet enough, but alas, twas not to be.

Some minutes ago...

A tank brought its main gun to bear, aiming it at the two approaching it on foot. The commander inside grinned with bloodthirsty delight as he prepared to fire upon the Amestrian officers. With a shout of defiance, he fires the round upon them, eagerly awaiting the explosion that would foretell of their destruction. Suddenly he realizes that something is wrong; the explosion never occurred. Then, he notices something improbable: the same round that he had just fired was coming back towards the tank! With a scream the commander attempted to escape the tank, but it was too late...a fact that he learned as the flames of an explosion engulfed him and he was met with naught but darkness.

Xanthus and Lyte Icarus walked forward, with Lyte projecting a force-field of gravity that defied the bullets, tank rounds, and railgun fire that tried to reach those inside. Simultaneously the younger Ishvalan seemed to be speaking into his comm device to an unknown individual. He was describing the battle, in perfect detail, to whom Xanthus figured was his commanding officer. Either way, Xans' attention was somewhat diverted away from his little brother as they ran across the battlefield. As a Homunculus, Xan was faster and possessed more stamina than a human (limitless amounts actually) and as a gravity manipulator, Lyte kept up with him easily using his own brand of tricky alchemy. The sights and sounds of battle were all around the brothers as they raced towards their primary objective and they destroyed whatever stood in their path. Tanks, railguns, men, transports...everything was to be annihilated that stood between Xanthus and his goal or between Lyte and Xanthus.

Eventually Xanthus and Lyte reached their goal, which became clearer as they became closer...the gold fought against the red which was approached by the crimson. The crimson color and the red color spoke words that were loaded with emotion and though Lyte could hear nothing of the words, Xanthus heard every word crystal clear. Whispers between powerful souls captured his attention...a purposeful announcement of morals made him curious...a declaration of love moved him, though he felt something shatter in the far distance...and finally a few words of final defiance enlightened him. As he came closer to the scene, he began to walk and signaled for Lyte to do the same. After all, now that things had come this far, he had all the time in the world to savor these few moments.

Present

"Impressive...most impressive...but you are not done yet Daigoro Ito."

The Brothers Icarus joined Daigoro and Reila at their positions in front of Dietrich, who was busy fighting against General Black. Xanthus looked with curiosity upon that battle, then looked back to his friends from Briggs. His eyes reflected something new, a rarity indeed to those who knew him. He eyes were lit with amazement and spoke of how impressed he was with Daigoro. However, just as suddenly as it had arrived, it was extinguished by his usual appearance of cool amusement...except for the look of relief that spread across his features that is.