Writing Prompt #9:
"You're a weapon; and weapons don't weep."
"Suck it up, Mustang,: the harsh voice of Colonel Grand barked. "You're a weapon; and weapons don't weep. Now get this mess cleaned up."
Roy looked down at the people he'd just...killed. They had been innocent doctors and he killed them.
He was left alone in front of the bodies. The people he'd just exterminated as if their lives held as little significance as an insect.
He knelt over the bodies. The hands held a picture frame - and Roy had to struggle to see - that held the photograph of a young girl. She looked just like the woman with her blonde hair and blue eyes, and Roy could only conclude that the girl was their daughter.
"I'm sorry..." Roy apologized. Though, no matter how many times he apologized, nothing could bring these doctors back. These parents back. "I'm sorry; I had to..."
But he didn't have to. Roy knew there was the option to desert. But if he did...he would be forever hunted. And the war would only go on. There would be no resolution and he would never reach his goals to change the world.
"Major?" a familiar voice asked from behind him. Roy turned to see Major Armstrong standing behind him.
"Is this all we are, Major?" Roy asked. "Human weapons?"
Armstrong paused. He had been undergoing difficulty with the war as well. He didn't have the answer Roy wanted to hear. Needed to hear.
"I believe we hold the outcome to this war, Major," Armstrong spoke softly.