Prelude
They never recall the possibility the day before.
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He sits, doing paperwork, while she sits, polishing her guns. It is two days before they are to be dispatched to Ishbal to take down some particularly rebellious natives who had publicly killed two soldiers the week before. The pictures from the execution caused everyone in the room to feel a little sick.
Roy Mustang hates the memory of Ishbal with all his heart, and that's why he is drafted to go there. He is too damn good at what he does. He stares at his gloves, laying on his desk, clean white and slightly crumpled, but looking overall harmless. Suddenly, Roy doesn't want to touch them. They were too clean…there was no reflection of any of the blood and fire he had seen, inflicted, these past years.
Though Riza Hawkeye has never used her bullets to blow out Ishbal brains, the mere thought of it sickens her. She cleans her guns all the same, even though she very well knows that in two days, they will be slick with blood and tears. As if this thought strengthens her resolve, she scrubs the rag on the metal barrel even harder.
Jean Havoc looks up from the cigarette he's trying, unsuccessfully, to light, noticing the uncomfortable silence. The Colonel was staring murderously at his gloves, and the first Lieutenant looks as if she's trying to wear a hole in the shiny metal barrel. They've both got that "penetrating-thought" look on their faces, and although these reoccurrences have been happening more frequently, he still finds it kind of disturbing.
Looking around, he figures that he's the only one who has noticed. Fuery is occupied with repairing something or other (Havoc himself has never been very good with mechanics), and Breda and Farman are off on a lunch break (Nevermind that lunch was still a good three hours away). Sighing slowly, he flicks the lighter again and his eyes light up as the cigarette clenched between his teeth finally catches flame.
The mission will succeed. Roy has learned to develop a sort of tunnel-vision when it came to times like these. Urged on by the adrenaline rush, he tunes out everything except for the target, even ignoring his own well-being. Completing the task he has been given is the only thing that matters.
Suddenly, his dark eyes shift over to his first lieutenant. He felt a dull pang around his ribcage and vaguely, he wonders what it is. She has accompanied him on many of these…excursions. He doesn't see why this time would be any different. So she had never seen the black blood soaking into the hard-packed ground, the hacked-off limbs lying haphazardly on the ground, the petrified stares as they are consumed by flame.
And no matter how much he hates the idea of going back for another kill, he knows that the outcome will always remain the same. The military would overpower the rebels. The culprits would be caught and executed. No exceptions.
This, atleast, gives Roy Mustang a little peace of mind.
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Hooray for Third Person Omniscient! -cheers-
Okay, so I didn't intend for "Immortal" to be a two-shot, but since I got such good reviews on it, and a few requests to continue it, I thought I'd give you all a little Prelude. Duly unexciting, but it's still something.
Oh, and I ought to have mentioned sooner...I know that Riza has, indeed, blown out Ishbal brains before. It said so. But I didn't say that this was an exact canon story. We're putting them into a "What if" situation here. Play along. It'll make life much easier.
Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you review!