Roy Mustang: A Modern MacBeth

By Mayumi Takanashi

Act IV

Gluttony stood watch at the window carefully, holding the torn curtains back to gain a better view. The three Homunculi were stationed at the edge of the Central in an abandoned apartment, but they had a clear view of the wide street that led to the heart of the town. As the sight of a dark figure whisked up the sidewalk, an insatiable hunger grew deep inside of his stomach.

"Ooh, Lust, he's coming!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Do I get to eat him now?"

"No, Gluttony," she replied coolly. "Did you not listen to a word Sloth said last night?"

His face fell in disappointment. Minutes later, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

"Well, go let our guest in, Gluttony," Lust scolded him impatiently.

The creature scrambled across the room toward the door, where he allowed Roy Mustang to enter. He had on a long, black cloak, and he entered the apartment swiftly and without invitation.

"Welcome, Fuhrer," smirked Envy, who came out from the next room with a sense of superiority. They now had the Fuhrer himself coming to them for help.

"I need some information," Mustang said urgently. "I believe that there are traitors in my mist that intend to seek my downfall."

"Well, well," Lust spoke quietly, a sneer crossing her dark lips. "The great Fuhrer has been caught in a little predicament, hasn't he?"

"Look," he replied edgily, "I don't have the time for your games. This must be taken care of swiftly and efficiently. Just tell me what I need to know to keep a step ahead of everyone else."

"Hey," Envy shot, "we aren't required to help you, so you better be on your best behavior!"

"Calm down, Envy," sighed Lust. "Let's just be nice and tell him what he wants to hear."

"Fine," Envy said. "But you do it, Lust."

Envy crossed over to the worn sofa and sat down on it. Gluttony remained in the corner by the door, looking nervously at the scene. However, Lust did not seem affected by the tension in the room. She slowly made her way toward Mustang, a smirk on her deep scarlet lips. Only inches away from his face, Lust began to speak in her sultry, smooth voice. She pulled his chin toward her and spoke into his ear.

"That boy, Edward Elric, is said to have great power. They say he alone is your rival when it comes to alchemic skill and technique. The Fullmetal Alchemist, they call him. You must keep your eye on that boy, for he seeks your demise." Lust let out a soft chuckle. "However, you need only worry about he that was not born from a woman's womb. Only this man you need to fear." She lingered next to his cheek for a second longer, and then she drew away to the table. The other two Homunculi also allowed themselves a low laugh. But Roy Mustang only sat pensively, reflecting internally on her words of warning.

"But there is no such man that was not born from a woman," he thought to himself. "So if that is the case, then there is no such opponent that can successfully bring my end! I am truly all-powerful! I do not have a worthy opponent!"

"Hey, Fuhrer!" interrupted Envy. Roy was jerked from his thoughts, but a feeling of security and relief washed over him.

"I have another warning for you," Envy continued. "You don't need to start worrying until the Eastern Forest comes here to Central. So don't get your underwear in a bunch over this whole thing until that happens."

"But trees can't walk," Roy said in confusion.

"Well, then I suppose you'll be fine," Envy replied casually.

"Why are you telling me these things," asked Roy slowly.

"You're the one who asked," Envy snorted.

"No, I mean, why can't you just tell me nothing can happen to me? You clearly have said that it is impossible for a traitor to get me, so why haven't you just come out and stated it without riddles?"

Lust and Envy again let out a soft snigger, which Roy started to feel very uncomfortable with.

"Wait," whispered Gluttony. The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to the round creature in the corner's shadow. "I have something to tell you, too."

"Yes?" Roy asked impatiently.

"We already told you, but you forgot. The kids of that man that was with you in the forest are gonna be the leaders when you're gone."

"Do you mean Maes Hughes? His children will be my successors?"

Gluttony shrunk back into the corner at Roy's harsh tone. Mustang turned to the other two.

"He's telling the truth," Envy said offhandedly.

"Envy, it's time to leave," Lust interrupted, looking up at the dusty wall clock. "She's waiting for us."

"Who?" demanded Roy.

"None of your business," retorted Envy in irritation. "Fine, let's go."

Without another word, the three Homunculi filed out of the room, leaving Mustang alone to his mixed thoughts.


Armstrong entered the office of the Fuhrer, his stomach in knots. He had come to tell Mustang horrible news, and he wasn't sure how he would take it. It was common knowledge that Mustang no longer kept his unperturbed and relaxed demeanor. Instead, he became unpredictable, and was often subject to random fits of temper. Many feared for his sanity, and suspicions of foul play were in the hearts of the citizens.

"Come on in, Major," called Mustang from his desk, his expression one of gentility and warmth.

Armstrong slowly crossed over to the oak desk, where Mustang sat with a glass of red wine in his hand. He gestured to the chair in front of his desk, but the Major preferred to stand and did not take the seat. Roy raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

"What's this about?" he asked curiously.

"Sir, I'm not sure how I should put this, so I'm just going to come out and say it." Armstrong took a deep breath and sighed. "It seems that Edward Elric has fled Central. He's at Eastern Headquarters as we speak."

Armstrong stopped. He wondered if he should continue with the rest of the information he had. Should he mention he's a traitor planning an uprising, and the fact that the Tringham boy was there as well? Perhaps not, for he did not want to come off seeming as if he knew too much…

"Well, well, well," whispered Mustang. He recalled Lust's warning to keep a watchful eye on Elric. But there was no chance of his success, but he needed to handle this. Make an example of him.

"You remember the hometown of the Elrics?"

"Rizembool, sir?" asked Armstrong.

"That's the one. I want you to order the execution of Winry Rockbell and Alphonse Elric."

"What?" cried Armstrong. Mustang's eyes flashed toward him. Armstrong collected his composure. "I mean to say, if it isn't too bold, sir, why they need to be punished for Ed's crimes?"

"You're right. You are speaking too boldly. But I will let you in, even if it isn't your business."

Armstrong was taken aback at Roy's coldness towards him. He remembered the camaraderie they used to share together, but ever since the Rebellion he had drifted farther away. Roy Mustang was too different to ever go back to how things used to be. An overwhelming sadness overcame the Major. So it was true what they whispered about in the halls of Central Headquarters; the Flame Alchemist really had lost his mind in Ishbal. This paranoiac, irrational behavior was not in Mustang's nature, but he suddenly had an obsession with uncovering a traitor, and he would not rest until he felt that they were all exterminated.

"You see, we have to make Ed come out of hiding. By killing those closest to him, we can perhaps draw him out and force him to confess. Then the rest of the country will be too afraid of causing a rebellion, and we can put our fears to sleep."

"Listen to yourself," thought Armstrong. "You've become a tyrant, with your own downfall made inevitable from your own misgivings. You poor man."

"Give the order immediately," Mustang demanded, turning in his leather chair to face the window and taking another sip of wine.

"Yes, sir," choked Armstrong, taking a bow.

"Oh, and one more thing," called Mustang, who did not turn to face him again. "I trust you know how to exterminate Al? The blood seal that attaches his soul to armor?"

"I have it under control."

He turned and exited the office. As he closed the door, he struggled to suppress a tear.

"So cruel…"

Unbeknownst to Mustang or Armstrong, Riza Hawkeye had been listening at the door before Armstrong had emerged.


"So, Al, how does it feel to be back home?" asked Winry Rockbell, entering the living room where Alphonse Elric was sitting. He glanced out at the green hills beyond the windowpane, and at the trees that danced with the breeze. The sky was a clear azure and the rays of sunlight shone down upon the whole town. The countryside was the place they had all grown up: Ed, Al, and Winry. It was also the place where their mother's grave was located. It was the place where he and his brother had attempted to bring their mother back using forbidden alchemy; where Ed had lost his limbs to the mysterious Gateway, and where Al had lost his body. Now his soul was sealed in blood to a suit of armor. So many memories that lay with Rizembool.

"It's good to be back," replied Alphonse reminiscently.

"Any news from Ed?" asked Winry, glancing down into her lap. Although she had tried, she could not disguise her worry from Al.

"No. But I'm hoping he can successfully organize the rebellion. Mustang has really changed."

Winry's deep-seated hatred for Mustang rose up inside of her. He was the man that had executed the murder of two doctors that had helped the enemy Ishbalans back to health. Those doctors were her parents.

"But I found out that Russell Tringham is there with Brother at Eastern Headquarters! So that's good news, right?"

Winry snapped back up, forcing a smile on her face.

"Of course! He's the previous heir to the position of Fuhrer?"

"Yeah."

A silence fell over the two. Each was lost in their own worry for Ed and for his chances of success against the dictator Roy Mustang.

Al began to laugh, one that echoed throughout his armor.

"What's your deal?" asked Winry in bafflement.

"I just thought about how Brother's been labeled a traitor. But he never really believed he was ever loyal to the Military. So is he actually a traitor if he was never part of them in the first place?"

"But he is a State Alchemist. So he is a part of them."

"I suppose you're right," Al replied, finally controlling his laughter.

"How is that funny? I don't get it."

"I just think Brother would have found it amusing to be called a traitor to the Military, since he never liked it."

Winry also let out a half-chuckle at the thought.

"They say Mr. Mustang has lost his mind," Al said, this time with a somber attitude.

"I would believe that after all the things I've heard he's done," Winry replied, thinking of all the hushed conversations she overheard Ed taking part in. All the crimes that were suspected of Mustang…

An urgent knocking sounded at the door. Winry got up to answer it.

"Maybe Grandma is back from the market. But why would she knock?"

Al got up and followed her to the threshold, where Clara stood breathless.

"Clara!" cried Al. "What's wrong?"

"You two must run!" she said quickly. "The Fuhrer has ordered your assassination as punishment for Edward's betrayal!"

"Oh, God!" cried Winry. "We have to hurry!"

"Clara, will you be alright?" asked Al concernedly.

"Don't worry about me; I am heading North right now."

"And we need to get out of here too!" Winry exclaimed. Clara hurried off as Winry slammed the door hurriedly. "We'll go out the back way."

The two scrambled down the hall to the door. This would take them into the forest, which would give them cover from their hunters. Winry reached the exit first and threw open the door.

Barry the Chopper stood in the doorframe, his bulky form blocking their path. His eyes glowed with hunger through his mask, and he let out a ringing, maniacal laughter that pierced the air. He thrust his spear in front of him with an exclamation of victory. Winry fell to the ground, her clothes stained with her own blood.

"WINRY!" cried out Al in anguish. "YOU WILL PAY!"

Al rushed at Barry in a blind rage, unable to see his target in his agony. He raised his fists into the air, but he swung wildly and without aim.

Barry used his bloodied spear to knock off Al's helmet, which rolled off the porch and into the tall grass. Unable to see the fight above him on the deck, he hoped his body could pull out a defeat.

Suddenly everything went black.

Barry laughed out in glorious triumph as he stabbed the blood seal on the inside of the armor. The transmutation circle made in blood so many years ago by the Fullmetal Alchemist himself was broken. Alphonse Elric existed no more, his soul lost forever.


Edward Elric sat with Russell Tringham in a private conference room at Eastern Headquarters. The military strategy had been developing slowly, but recent whispers of Mustang's tyranny and madness forced many to question their loyalties. They now had complete control of the Eastern army, one of the most formidable units in the country.

"Alright, now let's talk weaponry," continued Russell. However, they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," called Ed, without taking his eyes off of the file in front of him.

It was Jean Havoc, with his usual laid-back expression and wide grin on his face.

"Hey!" greeted Edward excitedly. "How's it going?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," Havoc replied casually.

"What news from Central?" asked Ed with a more serious tone.

"Well…" the expression on his face changed to one of deep sorrow and somberness. "Ed, I have some really bad news for you, so you may want to sit down."

"What's wrong?" Ed became very panicked, but Russell reached up to pull him down into his seat.

Havoc leaned against the table and lit up a cigarette. He seemed very hesitant to reveal what terrible secret he had to share.

"Mustang's definitely lost it. I mean, this guy has to be stopped at all costs. He's killing without a second thought, which is so unlike the man I used to know."

"What's he done this time?" demanded Ed, the dread rising within him.

Havoc exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Edward, I'm so sorry. Your friend, Winry, and Alphonse have been killed."

"What?" Ed asked, not seeming to understand what was just said. Russell clenched his fist and stared hard down at the table, grief filling him up.

"Ed, I'm sorry."

Edward just kept staring at Havoc, unable to comprehend what had just been spoken. The air was thick with feelings of intense sorrow and grief, and it was sinking into every inch of Ed.

"No…no…it's not possible…" Ed whispered. "It can't be…no…"

Havoc let out another puff of smoke. Russell buried his head into his hands.

Edward gripped the table tightly, searching for some sort of support. But he couldn't find it. He felt dizzy, and he couldn't see anything through his tear-filled eyes. He sank to the floor, still gripping the table.

"No…"

From that day on, a renewed fervor to stop the Fuhrer Roy Mustang was instilled in each soldier at Eastern Headquarters. The news of his senseless slaughter of the innocent struck a chord within everyone, and an urge to stop the tyranny was at the core of each individual. The oncoming war was brewing.