The harsh sun was beating down on them from above, yet nobody seemed to feel the full extent of the heat.
The land around was a barren desert, littered with the ruins of once proud buildings. Further afield the land was strewn with bodies, but not near the main military encampment.
Mustang, Hawkeye, Kimblee and others were all sat on boxes or stood talking in hushed conversations.
Each of them had the same tired and almost helpless look in their eyes; except for one.
"The dead scum have more to say then you lot." Kimblee remarked much to the distaste of others.
"You do not need to be so crass. Have some respect for the Ishbalans." Mustang chastised with a frown; the pair had never really gotten along and this campaign was making it impossible to form a connection.
"Why? We're killing them every day, the Fuhrer clearly doesn't think they are worth anything, or why would we be here?" Kimblee smirked, his hand coming up to brush his already bound black hair.
"Because they are still people. Why should we treat them as anything less?" Mustang hissed.
Kimblee merely smirked, leaning forward to rest his elbows onto his knees with a then look of boredom.
"Why do you care so much of them now, Flame Alchemist?" Kimblee's words were said with a smirk, his eyebrow raising up as he steepled his fingers while resting his chin on the tips of them gently.
"You don't care when you click your fingers and send them to their death." He smirked as Mustang looked down with a hurt look on his features, his face creased in what looked like guilt.
To the side, the girl, he didn't know her name, also looked the same. Her fists clenched as she looked to the dirt covered floor. Kimblee smirked, before then looking back to Mustang who had glanced to the girl then back to the floor.
"I do what I am ordered; I don't do it because I enjoy it." The words were quiet from the man, something that made Kimblee laugh softly.
"You're a liar and you know it. You're an alchemist. You have to like the feel of seeing your flames erupt form the tips of your fingers, seeing how the move to the way you want." He sighed, before leaning back to look at Mustang appraisingly.
"The 'Hero of Ishbal'... that's what they call you isn't it? Do you know why, Major Mustang?" Mustang looked up at Kimblee, a touch of guilt and sadness entering his black eyes while the other man meerly sneered.
"Because before you arrived, the Ishbalan's were slaughtering our men. Then you came with your wonderful alchemy, and you have killed, so many of them now." Mustang's head bowed low again, his body shuddering just slightly as though he was crying, yet his eyes were dry.
"That is the truth of it, 'Hero'. You say you want to protect the people, yet you have killed more than you will ever save."
Kimblee smirked before standing up. He shrugged up his coat with slightly hurried movements, almost as if he was holding in a great excitement.
"It's show time." He hissed, glee filling his eyes as he rubbed his tattooed hands together.
He walked away, leaving the man called Mustang looking broken, yet there was a hard set determination in his eyes.
He would become the Hero he was called, he would save the people he promised Riza and her father that he would save.
He would strive to the top, to become Fuhrer. It was owed to everyone; Riza, Master Hawkeye, everyone he had killed.