A/N: I apologize if Riza seems OOC-ish. After all, I'm me writing and not Hiromu Arakawa. However, in coming chapters, I plan to have her sort of... close herself off in a way. Almost in self-preservation. So, her outward emotions (can't think of a better term) will change and she'll get less open to everything. Thanks to those of you who reviewed!
2-Sniper
The sun beat down on the unending sands of the Eastern desert. The wind whipped over the dunes, slowly moving them over the years like waves over the ocean. In the midst of that sea were twenty odd tents. The company of troops were divided into five or more to a tent. I was the exception. As the only woman this time around I had a tent to myself, as per regulation. Slowly, I was becoming more and more afraid of the upcoming battles. The tension in the air was becoming almost too much to bear. At night, when everyone was asleep, I could hear gunfire in the distance. I sat outside and leaned against one of the posts of my tent, hugging my legs and resting my chin on my kneecaps. I stared into the direction of the fight. Flashes of light like distant lightning exploded on the horizon, the echoes of gunfire like far-off thunder. I heard someone's heavy footsteps approach me and settle down to my left. My eyes flitted over to the figure beside me. I jumped to my feet and saluted.
"Major Mustang, sir!" I exclaimed, voice in a surprised whisper. He sighed and motioned for her to sit down. I resumed my position of staring out into the distance.
"Calm down…Couldn't sleep, eh Hawkeye?" he asked, staring at the distant battle as well. I nodded.
"No, sir, I couldn't," there was a drawn out silence before I finally spoke again, "Tomorrow we'll be out there."
"Mm," he sighed, resting his head on his palm. Another silence, but it wasn't an awkward silence. We were just content to sit and stare at the flashes of fire on the horizon.
"I want to go home already," I smirked while shaking my head.
"I know the feeling."
In the morning we were all divided into our units. There was one sniper, one alchemist and 16 foot soldiers per unit. I was put in the group with the Crimson Alchemist, Kimbley. All five units split up and headed towards the city under siege. My unit made our way around to the West side of the city, heading in closer. As we made our way through the city, ash and burning flesh filled my nose. Bile threatened to rise in my throat, but I held it back this time. As we approached the active fire zone, the unit leader, -a man with beady black eyes and sandy brown hair by the name of Lieutenant Colonel David Potter- ordered me to get in a building and shoot any Ishbalan I saw. I saluted and made my way up the building, checking around every corner with my silver pistol. As I reached the roof of the building, I slung my M1-D Garand off my shoulder and loaded it before leaning out a window and giving the Lieutenant the affirmative. He nodded curtly before giving the order to move out.
I scanned the floor for a hiding spot. I spotted a place where the wall had been blasted out near the floor. I lay out the rifle there and lay down on the floor on my stomach, peering down at the bloody street below. I jumped slightly as an explosion nearby marked Kimbley's entrance into the fight. Another ball of fire farther off marked Mustang's entrance. I just settled back into position as I searched for any Ishbalans. A dark-skinned woman carrying a blanket ran through the street and tried to hide behind a wall. Stupid idea, because I already had her in the cross-hairs. I only hesitated for a second before pulling the trigger, the recoil absorbed by my shoulder. I saw her fall over, a bloody hole through her forehead. Then, the blanket started to cry. I realized with horror that I had just killed the guardian of a helpless baby. Self-hate swamped me as my transgression was realized.
"Oh, God, no," I told myself, shaking my head as the baby's cries carried up to my ears, "No. No. No. No," I whispered. My eyes felt like they were focusing on that bloody spectacle in my foresight. My hands were shaking, but no matter what I did I couldn't draw my sight from the pain that I had created. The child's cries wouldn't cease. I found my hands over my ears and I vaguely heard my voice call out, "Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" It wasn't my mind that controlled me, though. My mind was still locked on that woman and child in the alley, staring in utter shock. It was as if I was in a blank void, the sounds and feelings surrounding me only vague versions of the originals. Then, I was released. The crying had stopped. I blinked as I felt tears on my face and felt that my throat was hoarse. In horror I found that during my lapse, I'd aimed at the child and I'd shot. Now I had the blood of children on my hands. Now I shook uncontrollably and backed away from the edge of the building. I shook my head again and let the tears run freely down my face.
"I am not a murderer. I am not a murderer. No, I'm not," I just kept repeating it to myself. I imagine that I went temporarily insane. I had killed a mother and her defenceless baby. I curled myself into a ball and sat there and wept, throwing up from the self-guilt and the horrid smell of burning flesh. Screams in the background made an orange glow that painted the horizon seem foreboding and dangerous. When Lieutenant Colonel Potter and two escort troops came to get me, I was back sitting at my rifle, looking as if nothing had happened to me. They took me back to the camp in the center of the city, where what remained of our unit had joined with the troops that were already here. We had had a casualty rate in the norm 10 of our unit. Luckily only one of our men had died. Another had sustained a bullet wound to the leg, but he would live.
As soon as I set up my sleeping bag in the women's tent I sat there and stared at the floor. One of the other women, another sniper, sat down beside me. She was a brunette with turquoise blue eyes that softened when she saw my awestruck face. Her name was Second Lieutenant Jennifer Wright. She had to be a year or two older than me.
"Your first day in the field?" she asked. I nodded. Jennifer sighed, "Not as glamorous as you thought, huh?" I shook my head.
"I-I killed a child. A poor, defenceless baby. I'm a monster…I-I," I stuttered, staring at my hands, "I have the blood of children on my hands!" I was slowly losing my mind. I started laughing, "I'm a murderer! I'm a murderer! Hell, we're all murderers!"
Jennifer slapped me as I started to laugh again, "Get a grip, Hawkeye!" One of my hands flew up to my cheek, gingerly touching the tender skin. The Second Lieutenant gave me a stony look, "The world hasn't ended and you're still alive. That's what matters. If you hadn't killed those people-"
"They would have gotten away!" I interrupted.
"No. They would have died anyway; someone else would have killed them. Stop getting so worked up about it. If it makes things easier, try not to think of them as human."
"That'll only prove what people say, that we're animals, dogs of the army!"
"If it makes my job easier emotionally, I don't care what people call me!" The Second Lieutenant said forcefully. I bit my lip, but then stubbornness furrowed my brow as I glared at her.
"I'm going to sleep, so bugger off." Jennifer looked offended, then shook her head and vacated the tent, going to get some food. I lay there in my sleeping bag, staring at the tent's white canvas wall. The burning yellow flames farther off lay a golden light that managed to be seen through the canvas. God, I was starting to hate this place. Death stank everywhere and now cries of men, women and children echoed on the breeze as their owners grieved for their fallen loved ones. I covered my head with my sleeping bag as I tried to block everything out, as I had done when I was a child. Fresh tears ran down my face. Dammit! I thought to myself, I'm being a sorry little weakling again. I wiped away the stray tears with the back of my hand and tried yet again to drown out the evils of the outside world with my sleeping bag.
I slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning in a dream that left cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I was in the building that I had sniped in. There was a frightened-looking woman running through the streets. She hid in the alley, just like she had in actuality. I set her in my scope and looked through it. In the dream, she had long, blond hair though. She was my sister, Karin. However, she spotted me right before I pulled the trigger. Her blue eyes widened as she let out an ear-piercing scream. Then I pulled the trigger. She fell, crimson blood dripping from the bullet hole in the center of her forehead. Her scream became mine as I awoke from the dream, writhing in my own self-hate. I shook from head to toe as Jennifer shot me a pained look. She shook her head and settled back onto her side, preferring to get back to sleep. The other women (there were two) looked at me worriedly as I shakily fell back into sleep.
That morning, I got myself a quick meal of whatever-the-hell-that-stuff-was-originally- had-gone-moldy-and-liquified and sat down briefly in the mess tent. I was joined by a certain raven-haired Major who was too arrogant to notice something bothered me.
"I hear that you had some nightmares last night, Lieutenant," he smirked. I scowled into my slop.
"Doesn't everyone, sir?" I scowled. He only seemed to be encouraged.
"Yes, but not everyone screams out in their sleep," He smirked. That smirk was starting to work its way under my skin. I felt my frustration rise as he smirked. He leaned closer to say something only to me, "I bet a night with me would solve those problems of yours."
I looked up at him, surprise evident on my face. That look. I had seen it many a time during my high school years. It was the look of a man that had any woman he wanted. I was determined not to let him win me over. I looked back at my slop and donned a smirk of my own.
"No," I said flatly. He blinked and that arrogant smirk was wiped clean off his face. He laughed slightly.
"No?"
"No," I repeated for him. He blinked and looked down at his own slop. He blew out a long breath while rubbing the back of his neck. I finished my slop and hurried out of the mess tent, hesitantly shouldering my M1-D again and seeing the Lieutenant Colonel to get my orders. I was to keep the same position as the day before and once again shoot any Ishbalan I saw. I saluted and walked out of his tent, wincing slightly as I left. When I reached my position, I couldn't bring myself to look into the alleyway across the street where the woman's body still lay, afraid that I'd see my sister lying there as in my dream. I shuddered slightly as I set up the rifle again.
After a long amount of time, the now-familiar sound of gunfire drew closer to my position. My ears pricked up as I identified which direction it was coming from. The faint sound of feet running on the stained stones on the streets drew me to my rifle sight. A disarmed Amestran was running away from an armed Ishbalan. I got the Ishbalan in the crosshairs and put my finger on the trigger. Then, the sound of the child's cries filled my mind again. I hesitated, but forced the thought into my mind that the Amestran would die if I didn't act. Thus, my hand shook, but I pulled the trigger and watched him crumple, a bullet dead center of his forehead. The soldier looked for me, spotted me and clasped his hands together in a thank you. I waved back and kept my eyes out for more people.
The days passed much like this and before I knew it, six months had passed. Jennifer and I had developed an extreme dislike of each other probably, I realized, because of my actions my first night. On the other end of the scale, I had become quite close to the Major, arrogant womanizer though he was. I had discovered that he was actually quite a kind person. I had seen him after he'd come back from the field. He'd isolated himself in his tent and cried silently. It was only by chance that I had come upon him. I'd been back early, making sure that a wounded soldier got back to camp safely. I'd walked by his tent and heard muffled sobs. I'd peered through the tent flap –luckily, his back had been turned- to see his shoulders shaking slightly, his arrayed gloves lying a few feet from him. I'd walked back to my own tent and prayed to any god that would listen that this stupid, stupid war would end. I'd felt like I'd been in that camp forever and a day. That was probably the reason why it came as such a surprise when the commanding officer uttered three words that sent every dog of the army scurrying around to collect their things.
"We're moving out."