Death
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"Elizabeth, you have a new job." The door opened.
"Understood, who is it?" She slowly wiped the gun barrel with cloth.
"Brigadier General Havoc, Central." Her hands stopped abruptly, she paused a little.
"I'll make sure it's done." She placed the sniper rifle over her shoulder and marched into the darkness of the night.
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"Why?! Why?!" It was an excited female voice, almost frantic.
"Because that's what it takes to turn this country around, that's what I believe in." A male's voice, deep and low, was eager to explain.
"…you changed, a lot." The voice was sad, almost choking.
"I'm not changed, I'm still me!" The male sounded desperate, his voice was loud and almost pleading.
"…no, you are not! You…are not…not the Mustang I knew." The woman's voice turned into tearful anger.
"…" There was a great silence between the two.
"You are everything you were fighting against back then, when you were still the Roy Mustang I knew." The voice turned soft, as if full of despair and hopelessness.
"…Riza, I…" A futile attempt to argue, yet the voice drifted off into whispers.
"You said I have the right, don't I?"
The woman with bright blond hair and navy blue uniform looked into his eyes, eyes filled with despair and face drained of blood.
"…yes, you know you will always have the right, no matter what I become."
His face hardened, the slightly aged face is now tanned and more mature than before.
"…Thank you." She lowered her head, and looked at the ground. Her hands shook beside the gun holster on her belt.
"…I…" He smiled bitterly as he attempted to speak.
"Shh…" She suddenly lifted her finger and laid it on his lips.
Slowly, she reached up and pulled their faces closer until their cheeks touched.
"I love you, Roy." She whispered into his ear.
His eyes widened as her lips found his. The link lasted for a moment.
The cold nozzle of a hand-gun touched his temple, but he just pulled her closer.
A loud gun-shot rung in the silent forest, nothing stirred, as if all living things had escaped.
His body slumped onto hers; blood slowly rolls down his cheeks. Like bloody tears, the red liquid falls onto her uniform.
Red flowers bloomed on the blue uniform.
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she dropped the gun, she held him in her arms and sobbed silently.
"I have always loved you…and I will always love you, forever." Her whispers are shaking. Again and again, she whispered those words.
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It's been exactly six years since Fuhrer Mustang was assassinated by a mysterious killer.
The woman wearing the blood stained uniform, Riza Hawkeye, died.
What is left is the same blond hair, except shorter.
What are left are the same eyes, except there's nothing behind the ruby iris.
There's no tear, because nothing ever comes from her since that day.
There's no soul within the ragged doll.
She is Elizabeth, the best mercenary who is willing to snipe anyone upon request.
She is Elizabeth, the woman he admitted to be in love with during the old times.
The eternal Elizabeth flourishes.
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I'm not really the sadistic and pessimistic type for tragic stories…but I got this in a whim…