Riza was running as fast as she could. She was hot, sweaty, dirty, and running on pure adrenaline. She ran through the crumbling complex, afraid of what she might find. She slid as she stopped short. Roy's body was lying motionless on the ground. Cuts adorned his face, and blood stained his clothes. She jogged over, and fell to her knees, praying for a slim chance that he'd be alive. She pressed her fingers gently to his neck. He was warm, but there was no pulse. Riza's military training went into overdrive. She tugged off Roy's tie and ripped his shirt open. She tilted his head back, ran her finger through his mouth, and then gently placed her mouth to his. She pinched his nose, took a breath and blew into his mouth. She let go of his nose and pressed five times over his heart. She checked for a heartbeat and repeated doing CPR. After five long minutes, he coughed. He threw up, and remained unconscious. He was alive, but she needed an ambulance. With no time to spare, and her adrenaline pumping, Riza lifted her fallen commanding officer and booked her way out of the complex. What Roy had been thinking to go and fight Pride by himself, she had no idea, but now wasn't the time to question his objectives. She needed to get outside and call an ambulance. She reached the grass and collapsed. She heard sirens in the distance and fell unconscious.
Riza woke up to fuzzy lights and distant voices. She was breathing pure oxygen and was weak and dazed. It took her a few minutes for register that she was in a hospital. She tried to sit up, but found her body too weak. A nurse's kind face fell into few. "Well hello dear. Glad to see you're awake. The doctor says you'll be just fine, you just need to rest and recover your strength," the nurse said. Riza didn't care if she was going to die or not, she wanted to know if Roy was going to be okay. She mustered up one last bit of energy and gripped the nurse's arm with a shaky but firm grip. She lifted off the oxygen mask. "The man, I was with. Black hair, unconscious, he had cuts on his face. Where is he?" she asked. The nurse shook her head, "I'm not sure dear. I believe he's in the emergency room," the nurse said. "Is he okay?" she asked, panicking. "I don't know. If I find out, I'll tell you," the nurse said. Riza fell limp, and let the oxygen mask slap back onto her face. She took deep breaths, trying to hold back tears. He had to be okay. She couldn't fail him. And for the first time in fifteen years, First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, prayed.
