Disclaimer: I don't own FMA
Genre: Drama, Adventure, Post-Apocalyptic
Author's Note: This is an idea that just kinda popped into my head any way please review, and tell me if I should continue
Roy Mustang watched his feet and listened to the distinctive crunching squeak the made as he walked through fresh fallen ash-grey snow beneath an ever-leaden sky crackling with bolts of technicolor electricity. He laughed quietly, September and already fifteen degrees, and he had thought that Chicago was a bit chilly before! Ah well… New world new rules, it wasn't survival of the fittest in the strictest sense. No the dumb ones died first, then the weak ones smarts were just as important now as strength in this world.
And what was this brave new world you ask, oh imaginary companion?
Well he supposed it probably started when Iran built those uranium-enrichment places, they made missiles and someone's button finger got itchy, and well as they say the rest is history. 'Three flecks in the sky warn you you're gonna die.' War Pigs by Black Sabbath… no wait Electric Funeral, same band though. Whatever noone to take offense anyway, a show of hands form all who do? Well fuck there wasn't anyone here! And Ozzy was probably so much radioactive debris, not like he would care.
Roy let out a sigh, for all the destruction they wreaked the bombs had been amazing. Seeing the horizon light up like a hundred suns… no a thousand… ten thousand. Hell if Kimbley hadn't been incinerated, that bastard was probably jacking off in his shorts. Wow it'd been a long time since he thought of his old "buddy" how long had it been since their Special Ops days? Two years that's right, ten years in shitholes like Iraq and Afghanistan, and places they officially weren't like China, Siberia, all over South America. Ten years protecting a country destined to become a big green glowing cinder. Yeah he'd spent awhile globe-trotting with that psychotic fuck… what was it they had called him? Right the Unabomber, good ol' Hawkeye had coined that in a rare moment of dark humor, he was glad she was next to him, one less person he knew to wonder about.
But frankly he did hope Kimbley had survived the blasts… yep he hoped the son of a bitch had died of radiation poisoning. Still if he had blown up that was good too, kinda ironic to say the least. Rest In Pieces Kimbley . Roy fought to suppress the giggles that morbid joke gave him.
"Sir?"
"Our Special Ops days are over Hawkeye," Roy grinned with amusement "you can use my name now."
Hawkeye ignored her friend's request, "where do we plan to stop?" Riza asked looking at the blackened shards of concrete poking through the snow, "this might have been a city once, but if we try to sleep here now we're liable to lay on something sharp" Hawkeye commented. "And rusty" she added as an afterthought.
"A few more miles and we'll be out of the debris field." Roy replied. "We can camp there," he finished grimacing at the comment about rust, without real medical treatment… Well he didn't know if tetanus would be lethal but it'd at least be serious. Yeah a lot had changed since the war. Unconsciously he began to whistle: Thank God For The Bomb by the aforementioned and no doubt incinerated Ozzy Osbourne. Walking next to him and listening to the song that turned out to be so prophetic, Riza Hawkeye couldn't help but feel a rush of something akin to despair, as she surveyed the frozen and radioactive wasteland she had once called home.