Roy Mustang: A Modern MacBeth
By Mayumi Takanashi
Act I
Shadows were cast throughout the dark forest as the storm clouds rolled in from the East. The moon hung suspended behind fog, and no stars were visible in the night sky. A flash of lighting revealed the figures of three beings, soon followed by thunder.
"Well, Envy? What news did Sloth have?" asked the first being, her voice like that of black silk. Smooth, yet wicked.
"She said to start the plan in motion tomorrow evening, when he's on his way back from that rebellion in Ishbal," said the second with a tone of malevolence.
"Ooh, Lust, can I eat him?" inquired the third with a sinful hunger in his expression.
"Gluttony, that would defeat the whole purpose," said Lust. "We need the Flame Alchemist for Sloth's plan."
"His ambition will be his downfall," Envy whispered. "I just wish we were the ones in control instead of the little…"
"We won't question Sloth. Obviously this is the course fate has chosen to go. We may as well have a little fun along the way," replied Lust quietly.
"I've never heard you speak of fate before, Lust. I didn't think you were the type to believe in all that crap," Envy chuckled.
"It has to be fate. That's why we're the way we are, isn't it? I refuse to think that it is merely coincidence."
"You sound weak, Lust, when you talk like that," Envy shot.
Another bolt of lightning struck through the misty air, followed with the mighty call of thunder.
"So, where shall we meet tomorrow?" interrupted Gluttony with a maniacal laugh.
"About fifteen miles outside of Lior, alongside the road," Envy explained. "They'll pass that way on their way back to Central."
"Until tomorrow evening, then," spoke Lust maliciously.
Two men rode in a small, black car along a dirt road. Trees covered both sides of the path, disappearing into pitch black forest. The driver was dressed in a white button shirt with dark pants. His hair was black, as well as his goatee, and the worry in his amber eyes was disguised by a pair of classy frames.
His companion was in a navy army uniform, yet he had the coat unbuttoned. His black hair was tousled and hung over his dark eyes, which were closed at the moment. Relaxing his head against the back of the seat, he looked as though he'd just been through a trying ordeal.
Without moving from his resting state, the soldier began to speak for the first time since they'd begun their journey.
"Hey, Maes, thanks for coming to get me," he said softly.
"No problem, Roy," replied the driver casually. "When Armstrong sent me the letter of how screwed up you were, I just had to come to your rescue!"
A vein appeared on Roy's forehead, and his eyes shot open. He sat up quickly and whipped around to face Maes Hughes.
"I'm glad you find this amusing!" shouted Roy. "If only you'd seen all the bloodshed that I saw! You couldn't possibly comprehend what I've been through in Ishbal, you…"
"Now calm down, Roy," Hughes sighed. "I took a desk job for a reason. No one should have to go through what you just did. Do you know you were in bed for a month before I could take you home? You were so messed up that you couldn't even stand. We had to stay behind the rest of the army while you recovered. Riza's been calling every day to check on you. She'll be relieved when you get home."
Silence befell the car. Roy's palms were still clenched together in his lap, but the rest of his body was beginning to relax again.
"Get some rest, Roy. You're still not in great health."
Suddenly Maes slammed on the breaks, and the car lurched forward as it came to a stop. His hands were clutching the steering wheel tightly, but Roy had hit his head on the roof.
"Ow! You nearly killed us!" bellowed Roy angrily. "Why the hell did you stop?"
He looked out the windshield and saw three figures staring back through the glass. They stood in the middle of the trail, without any indication of being affected by the near-accident. Maes rolled down the window and leaned out. Roy did the same.
"What are you people doing out here at this hour?" called Hughes.
"We could ask you two the same thing," replied the first coolly, with a smooth tone in her voice.
"Hey, sweetheart, it's just that you're so far away from the nearest town in the middle of nowhere. A young woman like yourself shouldn't be hanging out here where crooks and thieves are on the lookout for someone as hot as you!"
"Spare me the flattery. That's not what we're here for."
"Actually, we come as the bearers of good news," said the second.
"Lucky us!" exclaimed the squat, rotund third with glee.
The one called Envy pointed a finger at Roy.
"I've been sent to tell you that as soon as you return to Central, you're getting promoted. To the rank of Colonel."
"And soon afterwards, you'll even become the Fuhrer," smirked Lust.
Roy and Maes glanced at each other in bafflement.
"Oh, there's more!" sang Gluttony delightedly.
"You there, driver," Envy called. "Your kids will be Fuhrers, but you're gonna miss out."
"What do you mean?" Roy roared at them. But they merely cackled and disappeared into the forest.
Mustang opened the door and was about to rush after them.
"Roy, stop! It's no use," warned Hughes.
He slammed the door shut in rage and slumped back on the seat.
"So what was all that about?" Maes wondered aloud. "Do you think they were telling the truth? If so, how could they possibly know?"
Roy didn't respond. Instead he stared out the window into the misty forest. How could he become Fuhrer, his life-long desire? King Bradley held that position now. The only way he could take over was if Bradley died somehow. But he was still young and healthy. The only way to get him out of the way was…no, he couldn't. He'd seen too much of it in Ishbal, and when he actually had to commit murder it drove him mad. But the ultimate prize lay before him within his grasp. All he had to do was fire a gun. Just one shot and he could reach the top and have all the power in the world. But was it worth another's life?
Maes was right. Ishbal really had screwed him over.
The colossal doors to Central's Ballroom opened into the magnificent sparkle of the evening's event. All of the attendees wore tailored tuxedoes or floating gowns of all colors. The room was decked in gold trim, and chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling. This was a celebration of the bloodshed and carnage of the Ishbal Rebellion. A celebration of the State's success in slaughtering thousands.
"The Major, Roy Mustang!"
The Flame Alchemist entered the room at the announcement of his title and name, without smile and without flair. He wore a solid black tuxedo, and kept nervously fingering his State Alchemist watch in his pocket. His step was light and urgent, and he immediately crossed over the marble floor to Fuhrer Bradley.
"Ah, Mr. Mustang! What a pleasure to see you this evening," greeted the Fuhrer pleasantly.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" replied Roy with a small bow.
"That's right, I have an announcement to make," exclaimed the Fuhrer. He crossed his way over to the small stage where the string quintet performed.
"Excuse me, everyone!" called Bradley into the microphone. "Good, now I have a few honors to award in the recent light of our outstanding victory in Ishbal."
The audience applauded and cheered.
"Yes, first I would like to personally promote Major Roy Mustang two rankings to the position of Colonel. Congratulations!"
Mustang, in well-disguised awe, approached the stage and allowed the Fuhrer to decorate his tuxedo with a new badge.
"Thank you, sir," he spoke with another bow. He spun around and stepped off into the audience as they clapped. Maes hurried up to Roy and pulled him away into the corner.
"What they said came true!" Hughes whispered quickly. "What does this mean? Who were they?"
"I don't know," replied Roy, who was still in shock, "but I don't think we've seen the last of them."
The Fuhrer began to speak again.
"And my next announcement is even more exciting! As many of you may know, I have recently taken in two boys by the names of Russell and Fletcher Tringham. They are like sons to me, which is why I name Russell, the first born, as my heir to the position of Fuhrer."
Another round of applause came as all looked over to a young teenager standing near the stage. He was frozen with surprise as everyone began to walk over and congratulate him.
Maes and Roy glanced back at each other in bafflement.
"Maybe they didn't get everything right," Maes shrugged. "It's still creepy how accurate they were about the Colonel situation, but they must be off on this one."
"Perhaps…" Roy muttered distractedly. He allowed himself to get lost in thought. Just a pull of the trigger, and he'd be at the top...
Riza Hawkeye, a woman with short blond hair and intense eyes, sat back in her apartment on the other end of Central. With trembling hands she replaced the letter she'd been pouring over back into the envelope in which it arrived. It was from her close partner Roy Mustang, and its contents illustrated a suspicious meeting with a mysterious group of people. Roy claimed that they described how he would soon become Colonel, and then continue on to become the Fuhrer. It was his deepest desire, and she had vowed to use any means to help him there.
However, she had no idea how he planned on actually obtaining the highest rank the nation had to offer. She knew that extreme measures would have to be taken in order to achieve this goal. But the only problem was figuring out those measures.
Things could only get better from here.
At that moment, the sound of the apartment door reached Riza's acute ears. It was Roy, who she hadn't seen in weeks.
"Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed in relief. "I'm so glad you're alright."
"I've just been promoted to Colonel," he replied without any other greeting whatsoever. He had just arrived back from the ball and still wore his tuxedo. However, he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned his coat. His disheveled hair made him look unkempt and somewhat weary. The dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep did not help his appearance in any way either.
"How is that possible?" whispered Hawkeye in shock. "They must've had it right. Do you think they're also exact with the…."
"I don't know," Roy cut in abruptly.
"What are you going to do?" she asked fearfully.
Roy sank onto her couch, his head buried in his hands. After a few silent moments, his voice pierced the hush like a blade.
"I've got a plan."
"What is it?"
"I can't tell you. Not yet, anyways. Just promise to trust me."
"I already do."
Roy sat in his office at Central Headquarters at the desk. His chair was facing the window into the vivid evening sunset, through which he stared idly. In his hands was a pistol, which he fingered in anxiety.
Hawkeye quietly opened the door and slipped into the empty office.
"Sir, Fuhrer Bradley has just arrived from Eastern Headquarters. You asked me to tell you as soon as he arrived."
"Yes, thank you." He kept staring out the window, his back to Riza.
"Sir, are you feeling alright?" she asked kindly. "You've been really distant lately, and I'm worried about you. Tell me what's wrong."
Roy leapt from his chair and crossed over to Riza.
"I can't do it!"
"Do what, sir?"
"My plan."
He began to pace the floor.
"Sir, this is what you've been dreaming of. Don't let those aspirations burn to ash! You've got what it takes to be Fuhrer."
"But.…"
"No! I will not let you give this up. I will not!"
Roy stood still and let out a deep sigh.
"You're right. The plan will be set into motion tonight."
"Just be careful. Good luck, sir."
