AN: Yes, this is still FMA, even though it takes place in Germany. And I apologize for all the German words and phrases ^_^;;; It's just the characters' dialogue, and if you need help translating, there are translators online, or you can send me a message.

I also want to make it VERY CLEAR that this story was not intending to insult or offend anyone. Yes, there are extremely derogatory German terms in this story, but remember that it takes place during World War II, and the things said were very common. It is just characterization.

I guess you could say I was prepared, yet wholly unprepared, for the day our platoon went on what was supposed to be a routine scouting mission to Freiburg. Did I have my Karabiner planted vertically in my white-gloved right hand?

Yes.

Was I wearing my uniform, a twisting mixture of ebony and satin black with the Swastika sewn into the left sleeve?

Yes.

Did I expect anything out of the ordinary on our mission to such a small, insignificant town that was either too afraid to stand up or sick with loyalty for the Fuhrer?

No.

Was the thing I got unexpected?

Definitely.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. In order to understand what happened in Freiburg, and the events that unfolded because of that mission, I think it would be wise to start with the beginning of the tale.

To be quite frank, I think things really began when I joined the Nationalsozialisten at the tender age of sixteen. I was well aware that, while the Fuhrer encouraged all Germans (like myself) to enlist, it was illegal for one to do so while under the age of eighteen. I was still supposed to be in school, but what good would an education be if all I wanted was to point a rifle at a Scheiss-Ami or a crowd of Stückes?

There hadn't been one question asked of me when I enlisted. I was merely handed a gun and a man with a stern, muscular face and a full black moustache had nodded my way. He had muttered three words to me: "Endlösung der Judenfrage," and left it at that. Under my breath, I repeated the phrase – I would've been very proud to say it louder, but I didn't feel like I deserved to. It was something that the Fuhrer himself had said, and repeating those things when you weren't of similar social stature was treading in dangerous water.

Later that same week, I had been assigned to the 14th Infantry Corps, and had been introduced to the Wehrkreis commander. Fortunately, he had a soft, creamy white-skinned face, and at the time, I thought he might be a relatively nice man.

The delusions of a young, impressionable mind can be, at certain times, extreme. I immediately, unwittingly, trusted this man standing in front me. And I had yet to learn of the monster behind the mask.

"Ein neuer Soldat bekomme ich Umdrehungen heraus, um ein Kind zu sein? Welches Glück…" He rubbed his forehead and adjusted the brim of his militant's cap. His oddly-colored purple eyes went from my face to the wall, then quickly glanced down at me again. A ripple of displeasure swam across his lips, momentarily revealing the abnormally large canine teeth he sported.

With the flick of his left hand, he flipped the long, sharp spikes of evergreen hair off of his shoulder, so that his merit badges could clearly be seen. He adjusted his uniform before returning his attention to me.

"Your name is Elric, is it…?" His voice was smooth, almost velveteen. His feet broke their perfect stance as he hunched over; a wicked smile was on his face. "Sind nicht Sie ein bisschen kurz, um achtzehn zu sein?" he jested.

I felt my face flush a bright crimson. To be sure, it was embarrassing to be joked at like that after having known this man only a few minutes. But it wasn't only that – my cheeks went red with a small bit of pride. This man obviously heralded respect, from the looks of the many badges pinned to his chest. And he was talking to me like we were…equal. Some part of that was impossible to ignore.

"No matter," the man went on. "Height doesn't matter when one is caressing lead into a Stücke or two. All that matters is that you fulfill the order of the Fuhrer." He glanced to the small bit of notepaper he held in his right hand. With a roll of his eyes, he let the paper float to the floor.

He extended a hand my way. "My full name is of no concern to you, and when others are around, you will address me as only 'Sir.' But, if you wish, when high-ranking officials aren't present, you may call me Neid." And I was left staring at his hand, wondering what I should do. I was unfathomably uncomfortable.

"Nehmen Sie es," he insisted, a half-caring, conceited smile on that face of his.

Nervously, I reached out and took Neid's hand, and he shook mine vigorously; I was more like a fish out of water than a soldier, as my body flopped when the shake was administered.

As Neid's fingers left my hand, I dared not look him in the eye. What could he possibly think of me after such a blatant display of weakness? I felt one of my eyes getting a tad bit wet.

"Edo?"

My mind forced me to look up – not a trace of disdain was on Neid's features. In fact, he appeared more…what kind of word could describe his expression? Perhaps relieved…satisfied…? I squeaked a response – I was sure it hadn't even been a word.

Now Neid's nose wrinkled a tiny bit. "If you please, Edo, I would prefer if you addressed me in a more dignified manner. Ich mache die Reaktion Mäusen eine Gewohnheit nicht." His new joke warranted a small chuckle from my mouth, but I stayed silent.

Some few minutes later, I finally replied, "Yes, sir."

Neid's expression softened. "That's better." He took a step forward and his gloved hand grasped mine. I was shocked at how open he had been in doing so. My neck craned to look into his eyes, the color of summer orchids.

"S-Sir…?"

"You look a bit tired," he pointed out. "Perhaps you'd allow me to escort you to the Sklavenheim?"

For a moment, I was positive I'd misheard him. "S-Sir…?"

"Ja?"

"Y-you said 'Sklavenheim,' right?"

"Ja."

"Don't you mean something like baracken?"

Neid softly giggled. "No, I said what I wanted to say. Now please, follow me along to the Sklavenheim." He tugged my body forward, and I spent much of the trip wondering what exactly he meant.

Translations:

"Nationalsozialisten" - German term for a Nazi

"Scheiss-Ami" - Offensive, derogatory German slur for an American

"Stücke" - Extremely offensive, derogatory German slur for a Jew

"Endlösung der Judenfrage" - Ideology of Hitler's 'final solution'

"Wehrkreis" - basically a German term for a platoon of soldiers

"Ein neuer Soldat bekomme ich Umdrehungen heraus, um ein Kind zu sein? Welches Glück..." - "The one new soldier I get turns out to be a kid? What luck..."

"Sind nicht Sie ein bisschen kurz, um achtzehn zu sein?" - "Aren't you a little short to be eighteen?"

"Neid" - Envy

"Nehmen Sie es" - Take it

"Ich mache die Reaktion Mäusen eine Gewohnheit nicht." - "I don't make a habit of responding to mouse calls."

"Sklavenheim" - slave house

"Baracken" - barracks