"Do it. Do it! Now!"
I squeeze my eyes shut and pull the trigger. One, two. Two bullets bound to hit their marks. The sound echoes around me, as if the whole building may cave in. I was ordered to fire those shots. Two doctors, gone. They were healing our enemies, saving them so they could come back and kill our men. Did I really just do it? I can't look, not yet. I'm too afraid to see. What have I done?
A breath and a moment, and I open my eyes. They widen involuntarily with the scene laid out before me. Two bodies, twin bullet-holes. The woman lies splayed on top of the man, two pools of blood forming below, as that blood seems to turn to lead, and trap me under its weight. The gun clatters to the floor. I can't breathe. I did this. They had lives, families. There were people waiting for them to come home, parents, friends, colleagues, maybe even children. Have I torn the parents from a child? my mind screams in agony. How old? Will the child grow up wondering where his parents are? Or is he already old enough to feel the pain? What have I done?
The corpses are right in front of me, testaments to my sin. I can kill soldiers, the ones trying to kill me and my comrades. I murdered two innocent doctors today. They weren't hurting anyone, just the opposite. I may have taken the parents from a child today. Is it man's fate to force others to share in his sorrow? Why did I do this? What have I done?
What have I done? It burns like I've set alight my own chest. I burn. Will I see the flames for what I've done?
I am an alchemist. I don't know much yet, but I do understand equivalent exchange. I believe in it fully. Knowing this, how can I live knowing I must somehow pay for those two shots, exploding from the mouth of my gun, my gun, like the Crimson Alchemist's bombs? How can I pay for this? How will I pay for this? What have I done?
Is my life payment enough? The gun is already in my hand, its barrel pointing towards my crime like some terrible agent of equivalent exchange, demanding reparation, sacrifice for sacrifice. I sacrificed two innocent lives to this war. I've only got one life, and I'm hardly innocent, but it's all I have to give. I'll give it all. I have to.
The cold gunmetal presses into my chin, my own two hands requiring the equivalent exchange. Can I do it? I have to. At zero, I'll pull the trigger. I try to ready myself, but I'll never be ready. But I have to do it.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
"If I run, will you let me go?" Dr. Marcoh's voice shatters the silence.