A/N: Right, so after a long time, I'm back. Sorry for the delay. I've had my very first major hurdle with Writer's Block for the tale, in addition to studying for the certification exam. I initially wasn't going to write a flashback, but then I committed to it, figuring that, if I go back I'll have to push back the publish date even further. All things considered, I think it came out okay, though the on-and-off writing may have had a negative impact on the narrative flow.

Just to clarify, the flashback is NOT 1:1 what Eugene is telling Ange.

Enjoy!

22 Years Ago

Capital City of the Rasalhague Republic

Emil

Mana society…

This was the society that resulted when humanity had reached the end of its evolution. Mana was an advanced phenomenon of the will that generated heat, light, energy, and created a method of communication far beyond what mere machinery could accomplish. It could be safely called "magic". In theory, people lacked nothing and had no problems: there was no war, discrimination, inequality, or poverty – it was a perfect utopia.

In practice, this claim was sugar-coating the problems, at best. At worst, the establishment was still rotten as to the core as it's ever been. There were those who were left behind from the days before this system was put into place. People who had no access to Mana and were shunned – if not harmed outright – for this fact.

Discrimination…Inequality…Hate…all of which contributed to war…

The things that supposedly no longer existed in this world were displayed towards them. In short: many of the things humanity didn't need were still present. At least, that's what he was taught.

It was ten O'clock at night at the outskirts of the city in the heavy rain within a small alleyway. The city streets were usually safe, but the occasional officer got suspicious at night – these were tense times, after all. There could always be an Outcast or Rebel hiding among the populace – and in a way, they were harder to pinpoint than Norma, since they couldn't dispel Mana on contact.

Ancient Folk…like the boy curled by a trash bin.

Emil looked down at the watch. Big brother and Mother were somewhere well to the northeast of here – he didn't know how far. Father parked right outside of the city – it was a pre-Mana motorcycle with a very powerful engine.

Emil didn't follow Father very far – but he saw him carrying a gun…a long one. He carried it on his back…it also had something on it. What was it called?

It's on the tip of my tongue…oh, oh! A scope!

It was used for…what was it called…?

Well, anyways, Father was here looking for a bad man who was the reason for their problems. He could be anywhere, but they'd heard he was in this city. So, they had come to take care of him – Emil knew what was meant by "take care", but he had never seen someone being taken care of…

"Wanna see if I can make it into the bin from here?" a deep male voice from down the alleyway interrupted his thoughts.

Suddenly, a crumpled empty can of soda had landed several feet in front of him with a loud clatter, having clearly been flung using the Light of Mana.

"Haha! You missed!" another voice, this one higher, laughed.

Emil huddled further behind the bin, hoping that they wouldn't come to look behind it, hoping that they wouldn't hear the pattering of the rain against his leather flight jacket.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter…

Please don't come near me…Don't look behind here…

"Let me try again," the original voice said, the Light of Mana engulfing the can once more, carrying it away. Still, Emil held his breath – despite how a simple exhale could be drowned out by rain hitting pavement, he did not want to chance it.

The next throw hit right into the open and hollow bin, making Emil's ears ring.

"Yeah! Got it!"

"Oi! You two!" Emil barely heard through the downpour. "What are you doing?"

"Err…sorry, officer," the high voice said. "My friend and I attend the Oph University in the southwest district – the one with the late club meetings. Art and music and the like – we were heading back to family."

"I see…" the new voice said, likely the officer. "Have you seen anyone suspicious on your way here? There have been several Norma found in this area over the last few weeks – there might even be worse out here."

"What could possibly be worse than Norma?"

"You must not be aware of…err, forget it," the officer said. "You should run along now. It's late."

Emil could vaguely make out two sets of steps splashing through puddles away from him…

Thank goodness…

Except there was a set approaching him. It was at this point that he struggled to contain his panic. Rays of light were approaching, clearly emitted by Mana. The officer was coming – Emil had no convincing excuse as to why he was here. He didn't know by what methods or how long it would take, but the fact that he was one of the Ancient Folk would be found out eventually.

He could be arrested, and where would they take him? Would they simply kill him in the street or stage an execution? This could only end one way: The World of Mana was cruel to them.

When the light shone on him, he knew the sound of the rain against his jacket gave his place away…

"So…how does this relate, Major?" Ange asked. "This boy…a human unable to use Mana, like you. Why does this tie in?"

"As the saying goes: God is in the details, Ange," Eugene said. "Context is everything. The little boy was found, suspected – accurately, I must add – of being unable to use Mana. Obviously, in society's eyes, this would make him an abomination. As the officer made the move to confirm his suspicions, he was shot dead by the father, himself wounded and on the run after his job was botched. There were three – maybe four – more pursuers after, dying one after the other as the chase dragged on. Father and son had nearly made it to the vehicle when the first major milestone in the boy's life occurred…"

Emil was hastily pulled up by his father up after slipping and falling into another muddy puddle. There was no time to complain about the roughness – they were still being chased and shot at through South Quarter: one of the capital city's most sparsely populated residential districts.

So close…they were so close to making their escape. The pair of them made the last sharp turn through the last alleyway. Father had turned around and made a snapshot on the officer, catching him dead-center in the chest with his pistol, staggering the man off his feet. They kept running; no time or need to confirm the kill, as long as they got away.

Father slung his body over the motorcycle that the had hidden behind the brush and trees – the sound of the engine turning over was one of the most comforting things to Emil right now. Father didn't need to say a single word to get Emil to sit into the sidecar.

"Hold on tight! I'm pinning the throttle!"

"Of course, the ride didn't last long before a patrol car forced them to swerve out of control and crash. They survived, but…"

Something warm ran into his Emil's eye to go along with the cold rainwater dripping on his face. He brought his hand to wipe it off and opened his eyes – the liquid looked blackish in the moonlight, but he could see a slight reddish hue. Blood…Emil's blood from a deep cut on his brow. He groaned as he struggled to sit upright – wherever he was, he landed on what felt like moss.

He couldn't see his father. The sidecar had detached during the wipeout, so they must have flown in different directions…

What did see was father's 9x18mm pistol. It was the one with the nickel-engraved slide and their colony's insignia etched into the rosewood grips – his favorite honorary pistol that never left his side. Emil might not have been the most mature-minded of individuals, but he did know the implications of finding it separated from its owner.

And he really did not want to believe the implication.

On a shaky leg, fighting the dizziness, the double-vision, the ringing in his ears, and the urge to vomit that accompanied the pounding in his head, Emil hobbled over to pick the pistol up. Despite Emil's young age and small hand size compared to father's, it was surprising just how comfortably the gun fit in his hands – the gunsmiths back at the colony could not have done a better job with the customized contours on the grip.

The pain from his left leg was unbearable, and it failed to support his weight, so much so that he had to use a fallen branch to move. There must have been a break or fracture somewhere along there – maybe a dislocation. It was that painful. Hard to say; it was too painful, and the situation too chaotic, to think about.

Whatever the case, the terrain made remaining upright difficult, but soon, Emil saw the glow of what looked like a fire not far off…like a gas tank had gone up in flames while Emil had been knocked out.

Oh no…father! Please be alive! You have to be, he managed to think frantically through the pain as he pushed through with the branch, more determined than before.

Unfortunately, he had taken a false step when he reached the area where the glow was, the pain in his leg exploding even more as he tumbled forward with a scream. Everything that Emil felt before had returned full-force with the abrupt stop at the bottom of the small ditch, and his head pounded even harder when the light from the fire hit his eyes (Emil believed the adults would call what he had experienced a "concussion").

"Mnuuuuhgh…" he moaned, trying to resist the urge to vomit.

He blacked out again – he wasn't sure for how long – before stirring and coming to the realization that he was leaning against the inside of a tree. He grunted as sharp pressure was applied against his hurting leg.

"Quiet, my son…" a familiar voice said. "Your leg's broke; I'm splinting it."

"Father…is that…? You're alive!" Emil whispered softly. "When I found…I was afraid that…"

"Shh…we can talk later, my boy. There were two officers out there; I took care of one," his father said, and Emil clearly saw that he had swiped the officer's weapon. Father must have lost his own rifle in the crash. Wherever they were, they must have been well-concealed by the brush around them.

"Mother… István…are they close?"

"We need to call them – the radio equipment was in your sidecar…Emil…in here, you're hidden as long as you keep still. Stay here, I'll call for help and come pick you up…"

"Father, father, no…I just found you again. Don't leave…" Emil leaned forward, trying to embrace his father only to wince as the splint on his leg made moving any further without issue impossible."

"Shh…don't worry, Emil," his father moved to embrace him instead. "I came and found you, remember? And I'll come back again. Any trouble comes…any at all, I'll come running. I always have – as long as I breathe, I always will. Stay here and keep still…no one will think to look for anyone here."

Emil lost track of the amount of time he was concealed by the brush, as he was getting shut-eyes…as much as he could with the throbbing pain in his leg. To be blunt, he'd be better off not even trying. He then heard something small snap…like a stick or a twig. Then another…and then several more crunching under the weight of a heavy boot.

Emil had at first that it was his father approaching, except that he had already seen when way his father's route had taken him, and this sound was coming from the opposite direction. Then, through his hiding place in the brush, Emil's suspicions were confirmed when he saw an armed man with a Mana screen come into view.

Though he should feel somewhat relieved in the fact that the man had his back to him and was unaware of his presence, tension still ran high in Emil's mind. The man was too close to his hiding place, however well-concealed he was. The slightest movement could cause a grunt of pain which could give him away.

But then, there was always the pistol in his hands that Emil could use. In fact, he could fire right now and get rid of the danger and no one would be the wiser for it…but the very idea of having to use it scared him.

He had never fired at anything other than paper targets and tin cans back at the colony – learning to shoot was something almost everyone did growing up back home. The world outside of it would be unforgiving to them, after all. But Emil had personally seen what a bullet could do to a living body – even if it was from an animal and not a human – and had seen the types of things that could emerge from an exit wound: bone, brain, blood...it sickened him to think about it. It sickened him to recall those images, and it wasn't hard to imagine all that coming from a human. To have the ability to do that right here in his hands…on a living, breathing being…

Maybe…just maybe…he wouldn't have to…

Abruptly, the light from the officer's Mana screen moved when he brought his rifle to the ready, clearly seeing something as he took a few steps forward. "FREEZE!"

And Emil knew who he was aiming at because the person matched up with the prominent picture on the Mana screen…

Father!

The police within the city were working with the patrols outside of it: it was the only explanation that made sense. And father was taken off guard; he had no choice but to surrender. And it was clear there was no intention to take him in alive. – unless Emil stepped in and stopped the officer. Fear gripped him, however.

But the officer was armed with a rifle, and Emil was armed with a pistol – there was a world of difference of the type of harm that could inflict. The officer had full use of both legs, but Emil had one held in a splint; if his shot missed, the man was going to run circles around him. He had range-training only – kids his age hadn't touched on what adults called "tactics". And bullets could be deflected by Mana-based shields…

What should I do, Father!? Please. Please – if this goes wrong -

Emil had been so preoccupied counting the number of ways attempting to help Father could go wrong that he had only noticed the fully automatic weapons fire at the last second before it ended. And then, he saw the result: though the darkness of the forest hid the worst of wounds, the jerking and staggers spoke more than enough to tell Emil that father had been riddled. When he'd hit the ground, Emil's throat exploded.

"FATHER!"

His mind was consumed with a red haze, his arms shot forward, hands with a white-knuckle grip on the pistol. His mind didn't even register whatever it was his legs were doing – he felt neither pain, nor was he even sure that gravity was acting on his body. All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and pull the trigger on the man responsible for gunning down his father.

Despite the slim build of Emil's arms, they took the recoil of each shot surprisingly well given the panic of the situation.

…FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NI -

…click!

The 9x18mm stopped firing, but Emil refused to acknowledge for several more seconds that he had expended the full magazine, trying in vain to budge the trigger. But the sign was right there: the slide was locked back.

Thump…

The officer in front of him fell to his knees, having been clearly unarmored from behind, and turned his head weakly to see who had stumbled out to shoot him. What could only be described as shock was evident on his face.

"A…child…?"

Thud…the rest of him dropped, before he expired for good.

Emil had just…

He fell to his knees and wretched as he immediately realized that he had just ended a life. He had just killed someone. Even if the reason was a good one, the very act was an ill one.

Emil had always been a gentle person by nature and had dreaded the day that would come that he could be forced to pull the trigger on another – had hoped that, at the least, it would not happen at such a tender young age.

But, alas, it seemed innocence was lost.

Pain once more shot through his leg. The splint must no longer have been held in place – that no longer mattered to Emil. Father was all that mattered. With as much strength as he could muster, Emil stood and hobbled to where he saw his father fall. He was alive and breathing…barely, and he was riddled all over with wounds that looked like they went all the way through.

They didn't look too bad. If Mother and István got here soon, he'd be fine. At least, that's what Emil wanted to believe. Intellectually, Emil was mature enough to know his father was doomed no matter what he did.

"Father? Father, please…you have to hold on…"

"Emil…Emil…I called…for help…they're coming," Father said.

"I…I should have fired sooner, dad," Emil said. "But I froze. I was too afraid. I thought too much…when I should have moved."

"You're…simply a child. Children act on emotion…there's nothing wrong with it. There's nothing wrong with anyone acting on their emotions…especially…when…they tell them…to do…the right thing…" Father said. "Live by your emotions, Emil. It's the only good way to live…"

"I'm still sorry, Father! If I'd been quicker…please, don't go…don't…DON'T…FATHER!"

Present Day

Angelise

"Since that day," the Major concluded, "young Emil vowed to strengthen his resolve so that he'd never lose anyone close to his heart again. And he succeeded – when attempts were made in far later years on his brother's life and, later, his sister and unborn nephew's lives, he thwarted them. He resolved that he would only fail if he died…"

Angelise was recapping the story: a young boy, in the Rasalhague Republic's capital city for unknown reason with his father, suddenly on the run, with an escape gone wrong, suddenly forced to kill when his own father was fatally wounded. The entire story had the exiled princess on the verge of tears by its conclusion.

"His circumstances didn't align with yours, though. I realize that: he had the means to save his father, he simply froze in fear. You had no means to save anyone – and even if you had, it would have been for nothing, surrounded by so many people," the Major said. "The point I'm trying to make, however, is this: at some point, there must be a moment where you'll need to swallow that paralyzing fear – in your case, the fear of holding the very type of weapon used to murder your mother – and focus on learning to defend yourself and any you may come to hold dear here. Whether you form a connection with your fellow Norma here or not, they will still be your sisters in arms – you will protect each other, and that means learning this."

"I don't know how quickly I can do that, Major," Angelise said."

"It'll happen, Ange," the Major said. "I won't force you to shoot anymore today if you're not up for it, but you're going to have to do so eventually, Ange. I'd much prefer it sooner than later, and ideally under my tutelage. I've done extensive study into your incident, so I'll be most understanding on the range. If we're done here, grab some breakfast in the cafeteria then meet me in the gym at quarter to nine."

"Breakfast sounds good…Major…may I ask a personal question?"

"Depends…what's the question?"

"You sounded so…invested in the story. Did you know the boy?"

"…Yes…I knew Emil…and his father, and the brother…the whole family…Most of them have died since," he said swiftly, as though getting it all out as quickly as possible was going to keep his own emotions from spiraling out of control. "I know Emil's nephew is still alive and kicking out there somewhere."

"Alone?"

"He's a resourceful young man about your age. My faith in his ability to still be alive after so long is absolute, Ange," the Major said. "But, now's not the time. If you want to explore this further, you can wait until the off-time. Eat up and get your mind on the training, Ange…I'll get the range squared away. You should know the way from here…or do you need me to hold your hand, again?"

"Er, no, Major. I know the way," Angelise defended.

"Good. Glad to see you're learning your way around – but get moving."

Later

The breakfast and subsequent physical exercises gave the exiled princess plenty of time to come down from the shakes that came from remembering what she saw that day before she was taken away. And yet, something else worked its way into her mind in its stead. It wasn't as distracting as her own problems had been, to be fair, but still…

And now that there was a brief lull between the physicals and the simulators, she found her mind wandering again. The Major's story sure had a way of being thought-provoking.

The door opened, and she came to attention, having been in her flight gear, and was taken aback when he saw him in what he wore. His flight-suit offered full-body coverage with little in the way of revealed skin – closest being the V-neck of his collar and the fingerless gloves. Like her own flight, he had several parts that looked armored, presumably also containing sensors for use with any Para-mail, but they looked far lighter in composition.

Her flight suit was snug on her. The Major's looked loose-fit by comparison…Angelise found this contrast to be rather annoying. Sexism at its finest…of course, Angelise wised up and decided not to voice this displeasure.

"Ange, are you ready to do the good stuff?" the Major said, no small amount of excitement that he could not contain in his voice. Obviously, he was looking forward to flying, even if it was simulated.

"Yes, Major," she said.

"Good," he replied. "Double time it."

It turned out that eight other people occupied the simulator room when they arrived, and at the forefront was a purple-haired girl in pigtails who came to attention and a salute the second the Major got close.

"Oh, Major Valentinus, sir! First Troop at the ready and training!"

"At ease, Salia," the Major said. "This is no inspection. In fact, I'm training one-on-one, myself. This is Ange; she's the newest transfer I was referring to yesterday. Ange, this is Salia – she's the second-in-command of the First Troop that you'll transfer to when you're taken out of my hands. If, for any reason, Captain Zola is unavailable, you listen to her."

Angelise simply stared and nodded, uncomfortable with the situation. If one would have put her in this situation a few days earlier, Angelise would have spat more than a few unfavorable Norma-related putdowns. But, as it stood, she was in a state of…uncertainty? She wouldn't call it denial. She certainly hadn't accepted that she belonged here, yet.

"Princess is a quiet one, isn't she?" a pure cherry-haired girl in pigtail trailed. "What? Status make her too good to talk to the rest of us?"

"Let's not make a scene in the simulators," the Major said. "Not after the incident last month…"

Incident?

"Hey, Major – isn't the papa going to introduce the rest of us? I thought you were big on manners…" the pure orange-haired girl said.

At first, Angelise thought the Major was going to lose his temper with her, but he replied with a deadpan voice and a gesture to each girl. "Haven't I taught you better than to interrupt, young lady? That's Rosalie, Ange…the resident Scrooge of the First Troop, then there's Chris running artillery, and Hilda…the third in chain of command and ringleader of the trio. They're always together off the field, you can't miss them…Three Stooges, one of which is due for a special deduction from her next income report precisely because of being cheeky…and as Arzenal's executive officer, I do have that authority."

Rosalie developed a tick mark in response to that while Hilda snickered.

"Over on the other side you've got Ersha. You saw her in the cafeteria yesterday morning; she's the other artillery specialist and resident team mom – if you need help settling into the team, talk to her. Next to her, there's Vivian – melee specialist and one of the youngest Aces in Arzenal."

"Quiz time!" Vivian started. "Who are the other rookies in the First Troop?"

"Miranda and Coco…I believe. Yes, now I remember," the Major said. "I've not seen you two often enough. Good to see you again after a few years."

"It's nice to see you again, Papa Gene," the girl he had referred to as Coco chirped. "I really, really hope they let you fly again. And with us!"

Coco practically jumped up and down with every word towards the Major. The mixed atmosphere in this room felt unusual: the blend of formality and informality…how some referred to him by rank and others by nickname. And Rosalie's sarcasm? The Major was tolerating it all, even responding in kind, if seeming a bit uncomfortable about it.

"Major, why do you put up with such lack of respect?"

"A lack of respect is it?" the Major asked rhetorically. "Yes, as a former princess, I'd figure you'd have a keen sense for such a thing…Protocol would indeed point to such behavior as a blatant disregard for a superior's authority…I should punish them accordingly… Ange, etiquette here, while still well-defined, as would be expected of a military installation, is not what you're used to back where you lived. I offer you a challenge: consider the people you shared orientation with, and then ask yourself why protocol can get so flexible. Got it?"

She nodded as she thought back to what he asked her the day they met, about what Norma and humans had in common. She felt like she was supposed to cram for a quiz between the tale he had told and what he had said just now.

"And, what's this about flying with you?"

"That's a tale for another ti – ."

"His piloting is the stuff of legends!" Coco exclaimed. "No one I've met in the classes hasn't wanted to fly at least once with him. They say he took down twenty Brig-class DRAGONs by himself! Papa Gene says it was more like eight, but he's just being modest."

"Coco, that's enough," the Major said sharply as he swiftly pulled out his pocket watch to check the time before quickly stuffing away.

Wait…he carried it even in his flight suit?

"I've got a rookie to train. Salia, carry on."

Salia saluted, "Yes, sir!"

"Let's go, Ange…"

Salia

"Seriously, though," she heard Coco chatter behind her as Salia watched Eugene lead the new transfer away, "the new girl is very lucky to be getting personally trained by a living legend. I'd give anything to be in her shoes."

Just about any girl in Arzenal would have. Any girl; Salia wanted to believe she was mature enough to be an exception. But she wasn't – after all, it was something special to claim to be trained personally by the legendary Black Wolf of Arzenal.

Of course, when Salia first met the man as a little girl, he was neither the straight-laced gentleman he was today, nor was he a living legend (though he was still a great pilot). Fast forward to now, and a lot of the girls of Arzenal wanted him, age gap be damned. And he had all the appearances of a proper officer and the speech, to match.

He had a few star one-on-one students, with Zola being most prominent. True, much of the First Troop leading up to his removal from the field – which was about everyone apart from Coco and Miranda – could claim to be his daughters in spirit, but there was a certain prestige to being taken as a personal apprentice by him. It was something Salia had always wanted ever since Eugene had established himself as a legend among Arzenal's pilots…all these years of waiting for a chance to be taken in, and a rookie that arrived mere days ago is assigned just like that.

Intellectually, Salia was in on the reason; she saw the personnel file. She knew that it was cases like these that Eugene specialized in, being the most diplomatically-inclined person in Arzenal. She knew the necessity. But what her mind knew and what her heart felt were at odds with each other – each time he took a rookie for personal training, it hurt her heart.

It's just a week. It'll all be over soon.

She was looking forward to doing some spiritual cleansing later…

Eugene

He'd rigged up a little something that would allow him some control of the simulator from within the pod and ran through the data settings. Mission 7, the standard. Craft select…

He chose the same for each of them: AW-CBR115 Glaive.

"Alright, Ange. Communications check. Can you hear me?" he spoke into his helmet's radio.

The sound went dead for around three seconds before he heard her affirmative "yes".

"Good. Welcome to advanced Para-mail piloting and the basics of Para-mail combat," he said. "In a normal launch, air traffic control will tell when it's safe to launch after the previous wave of craft has cleared the runway. I will take over for the purposes of this. When I give the go ahead after I launch, you will launch and group up on me in Echelon Right formation – that is, behind me and to my right. Is that a clear enough explanation?"

"I think I understand, Major…"

"Good. Just make sure to keep comfortable spacing between us – I don't want our Para-mails colliding with each other, and I doubt you do, either. This may not be the real deal, but you don't want to make flying too close a habit," Eugene said, dropping formality, albeit only marginally, in his speech. "Keep formations loose unless absolutely needed."

His heart rate picked up a bit, but not by much. The simulators could replicate quite a few things about Mail-Riding: handling, inertia…of course, the big limitations were also the things that made Eugene miss real flight: the simulators can't replicate the feeling of live air moving past you, or the feeling of gravity pulling you down when you hit the kill-switch on the thrusters.

It just didn't have the same effect.

"Unit Status: Gene ready…Launch!"

Nearly two decades of training for these types of changes in inertia made this simulated push backwards feel like a minor nudge as he blasted out of the simulated hangar, pulling back hard and rapidly gaining altitude once he had cleanly separated from the runway.

"Runway clear. Unit Ange…Launch!"

Looking over his own shoulder, he caught sight of Ange's own Glaive blasting out of the hangar and pulling up to altitude.

"Let's go. Form up: Right Echelon, immediately," Eugene ordered.

He had a few ideas on what to do if this went particularly well…

Places of Interest

"The Colony"

A small "colony", now vaporized with not even a brick standing, that acted as the final haven for the Ancient Folk, which had numbered less than a thousand residents, from which Emil and István originated.

A/N: Again, Apologies for the long delay. FYI, the handgun is a dead ringer for a real world Makarov pistol.

As for voice actors for a few the introduced OCs, how about...?

Eugene - Travis Willingham: Roy Mustang (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Sage - Kelly Sheridan: Sango (Inuyasha)