Chapter Four: Building the Fire
Disclaimer: Still don't own nothing. Working on it, though.
Mustang sat in silence as the train pulled around a bend and the city of Vyronas just came into view on the horizon. He didn't care. Hawkeye had been visibly upset when she discovered him and Havoc snooping through her album. Havoc had gotten pistol whipped and Mustang had only escaped punishment by tossing the album into the air and, when Hawkeye was distracted with catching it, he dashed towards the lavatory and locked himself in until she left. When he emerged Havoc told him she had taken the album, her dog, and the personal gear and left to 'play more poker.' The commotion had succeeded in waking Falman, Feury, and Breda, who were asleep for the majority of the drama. This lead to a hurried explanation and orders to 'go back to sleep.'
Mustang thumped his forehead against the glass. He sighed, and spent the next hour watching Vyronas grow closer and closer as the train chugged slowly along a winding and rather unnecessarily long route.
The train eventually pulled within the limits of Vyronas, and the scrubby hills and rocky badlands were replaced with low, white, square buildings. They were plastered white to keep them cool in the sun, Mustang had heard last time he was here. Their roofs were flat because people slept on the roofs during summer, he'd heard too. He couldn't have cared less.
One thing the military had done that the Vyronans had appreciated was build a new train station, a huge marble affair designed to mimic the architecture of the ruins that littered the area, but still vaguely resemble the buildings at military headquarters in Central. It was supposed to represent the authority from Central as a continuation of the ancient order, or something like that Mustang remembered reading. Mustang doubted the people of Vyronas were smart enough to figure that out. People had liked it at first, but after taxes had to be raised to pay off the construction and Amestrian Emblems were hung throughout the building, the people became quite less appreciative, but they still like the building, just not the authority who put it there, nor the flags displayed throughout it, nor the soldiers who stood guard, but they liked the building.
The train rolled into a tunnel and eventually pulled to a stop at a raised platform deep underneath the marble edifice of the station itself. There was a heavy military presence on the platform. Most of it Light Infantry.
The Light Infantry is a special group. They are elite. They are famous for using aggressive; some would say foolhardy, tactics whenever possible. They specialize in smaller engagements, where they have freedom to improvise and adapt as needed. They don't even wear blue uniforms
anymore, having switched to deep forest green fatigues with a black trim after the Ishbal Campaign. They also eschew excess ornamentation, no medals or award bars or golden tassels on their uniforms, just their rank, sewn in black chevrons on their sleeve. They wear light boots, not the tall riding-style boots of the normal military. The one thing they are most famous for are their infamous black caps. All Light Infantry troopers posses a black cadet cap. (Some people call them 'field caps' or 'patrol caps.')
The Light Infantry is regarded as a highly unorthodox unit by even the most liberal of officers. They drink heavily, gamble about everything (the motto of the Third Light Infantry Combat Battalion is "Bet on Whatever"), most smoke, they fight frequently, and are understood to be an almost completely undisciplined at best, downright dangerous at worst. They don't follow military dress rules, don't follow code of conduct rules, and express a high degree of individualism in their behaviors and mannerisms. But the military keeps them around for two reasons; first, they make excellent special forces, second, whenever the military comes up against an unconventional foe, they send in the Light Infantry, who don't fight conventionally themselves, so they are a perfect response to insurgencies and hostile guerillas. The military like having Light Infantry, but at any point in time, upwards of three-quarters of the Light Infantry will be in active duty. The military views the Light Infantry as dangerous, so they try to keep them busy as much as possible. The Light Infantry knows this, and they love it.
As the train finally came to a full and complete stop, Lt Hawkeye came back into the car from the caboose, followed by her dog and her duffle bag over her shoulder. She quickly ran to the window, looking out on the assembled soldiers. At this point, a number of the Light Infantry soldiers on the platform began waving. Hawkeye's eyes lit up, she smiled widely, and waved back. She quickly turned away from the window and dashed towards the door.
Mustang was not happy. Hawkeye had just completely ignored him, brushing him aside for some Light Infantry scum she hadn't seen in years. Mustang thought back to the last encounter he had with Light Infantry and it did not comfort him. He and the rest of the men in the car began to assemble their belongings, but Hawkeye, however, was already out the door.
Hawkeye jumped from the car to the platform, tossing her duffle onto a waiting luggage cart as she leapt by. She had found old friends.
"Dio! Hutch! Tank! Ace! Dawz!" Hawkeye shouted, nicknames for friends from her past said once again.
"HAWK!" came the ecstatic response of the soldiers whose nicknames she shouted. They rushed to her, setting off a mess of bear hugs and yelling as the men re-collided with an old friend.
One soldier, who Hawkeye remembered as a Private First Class, but was now a Company First Sergeant, seized Hawkeye in vice-like hug and screamed in her face "Holy fuck, it's great to see you again!" which he supplemented with a kiss on each cheek. He always was an emotional fellow.
Hawkeye blushed, "Nice to see you again too, Dio!" Dio was just a nickname, his full name was Anton Diotlas, but he'd been known as Dio for years.
"Hey, Hawk," came a low, even, almost shy voice accompanied by a mighty hand clasping around her shoulder. Hawkeye turned around, breaking free of Dio's grip to face a man who was like a brother to her, the biggest, kindest, and most bashful and loveable heavy machine gunner in the military. A strong, wide, muscular man named Franconi, but universally known and loved as Tank. Tank bear-hugged Hawkeye, who felt tiny and insignificant in his massive embrace. "Guess who's here to see ya, Hawk…" Tank whispered into her ear.
Hawkeye turned as Tank released her, and saw Lt Col Cooper Mordecai come sailing through the crowd of assembled soldier, who parted before him like a fog. Mordecai was smiling ear to ear, his BAR across his back and his arms spread wide.
"Cooper!"
"Hawk!"
Hawkeye ran to Mordecai, leaping into his arms, not quite sure if this was really happening. Mordecai swung her around, almost taking a half-dozen regular infantry out with her feet. Mordecai eventually put her down, but kept her held tight to him, "Can't believe it's you!" he said, "Can't believe it!"
"Me neither…" she whispered.
"Hey, Boss!" Dio shouted, "You ain't gonna believe this shit! Look who just got his fat ass off the train!"
Cooper slowly released Hawkeye and slowly turned around. "No fuckin' way..." he breathed making eye contact with Mustang for the first time in years.
Silence fell over the platform. Tank cracked his knuckles. Another Light Infantry trooper pulled out his Colt pistol and released the safety, before sliding it slowly back into its holster.
Havoc looked at Breda, and said; "Oh, shit…"