A/N: Good day, my readers. Well, my once-a-month deadline is going well so far. It's really perfect for me, since I work all the time and don't always have time to sit down and update every week. Also, this chapter was damned difficult to write. I hope you all are doing well, as always, and remember: reviews are always appreciated but never required. Thanks for reading, and I appreciate all of you.

The train ride only took a couple of days, and Karla awoke on the second just as the train was slowing to a stop. Her body was stiff as she stood, her neck in particular, and she cursed under her breath. Train seats were not meant for sleeping on, that was for sure. She gathered herself and departed the train, twisting and turning her neck to loosen it before she looked around.

Well, this looked like a nice place… "This is Ishval?" she asked to no one in particular.

"Major Chernikova!" The familiar booming voice reached her then, and she turned to see none other than the massive, burly Major Armstrong departing the train. Her eyes widened - how had she not seen him? He was huge!

"Sir," she greeted, giving him a brief salute. "Where are we, if I may ask? Is this Ishval?"

A laugh sounded from him. "No, of course not! We are in Resembool! It's the closest station we have to Ishval. We'll be taking a military vehicle to the region."

"Oh, good," she said, sarcasm evident in her voice. "More vehicles. It isn't as if I've just spent the last four or five days on them already."

Armstrong responded with nothing but what she assumed was a smile, and at his gesture, she began following him. Well, he seems positive, she thought with disdain. He was just as positive the last time she'd seen him as well. Did nothing shake this man out of his jovial demeanor? What, was he enjoying the thought of having to kill numerous innocents or something? God, he was just like the rest of them, wasn't he? He probably cursed the Ishvalans for existing as well…

As they departed the train station, Karla looked around to see that the small town was surrounded by nothing but what looked like farmland. She could see sheep grazing in the distance, and the sun shone down, warm and content onto them. So far, Resembool reminded her a lot of Virnikov, except with less snow, less sheep, and less workable land. "This place doesn't look like there's a war going on at all," she murmured.

"Unfortunately, the town was attacked by Ishvalan terrorists last year," Armstrong replied. "While many buildings were destroyed, none of the civilians were seriously hurt, and luckily they've made a full recovery."

"I can see that," said Karla as they walked. "You know, this is what Virnikov is basically like. Except, we don't have viable land, and we definitely don't have sheep. However, it's small like this, not many people… and more destruction."

The conversation was cut short then as they reached the military vehicle, with a man clad in uniform and a thin white coat standing outside of it. He saluted both majors, who simultaneously returned them before climbing in. As Karla settled in her seat, she stared out the window again, losing herself to her thoughts once more. She thought about what Armstrong had said earlier, about how this small town had been attacked by Ishvalans. Why had they done that? Was it because Resembool was the closest Amestrian settlement to them?

"Major," she said, looking over at him, "what importance does Resembool have to the Ishvalans? A settlement doesn't get attacked for no reason."

"Resembool mainly deals in exporting wool," Armstrong replied. "The military uses it to make the uniforms."

Karla slowly nodded. So, that was the reason…. Resembool had dealings with the military, which obviously the Ishvalans didn't like. Yet again, it wasn't so unlike Virnikov. Instead, however, Virnikov had apparently originally belonged to Drachma before Amestris had formed… or so she had heard from her father. She sighed. This was ridiculous. This part of the country was no different from the north.

Some time later, the vehicle pulled to a stop, and all soldiers within got out. Karla sighed, both thankful she didn't have to ride in anything anymore, but also cursing herself for even coming here. Smoke was wafting heavily from numerous buildings, and all she could hear around her were gunshots and shouts. Her fingers curled into fists, and she bit her lip in order to push down the immediate instinct to flee. This wasn't Virnikov, where she could run and hide and wait for someone to protect her. This was Ishval, where her orders were extermination.

Someone held out a white coat to her, and she took it without a further response. Protection from the sun, that's what this was… as if her uniform didn't do a good enough job of that. As she slipped it on, she was mentally preparing herself. She had to shut her emotions down. She couldn't allow herself to think. If she allowed any of this, she was sure to break down.

You're contributing to a massacre, you realize? These people did nothing to you.

No. She couldn't allow that. She couldn't let that voice in her head coax her out of it. She was a mountain; it would take more than this to get her to flee.

She followed Armstrong and the other soldiers into the camp, trying to ignore the chaos that was happening in the whole of the city. He was as silent as she, but she couldn't look at him. Her attention was firmly on the ground in front of her as she walked, so much so that she nearly ran into him when he stopped in front of her.

"My alchemists are here!" declared an unfamiliar voice. Karla looked up to see a rather short man, similar to her in height, wearing a fierce expression on his face. He seemed overjoyed to see his newcomers; in fact, Karla thought he was far too happy to be here at all. Her eyes narrowed as anger coursed through her. This was her commanding officer, and already she hated him. "We're going to wipe out this region faster than any other platoon, understood?"

"Yes, sir," she gritted, letting her disdain make itself known in her tone. He raised an eyebrow, approaching her. Fessler looked her over, then grinned.

"Then get out there," he said, pointing into the city. "You're wasting time, little girl."

Karla fixed him with a hateful look, then stormed out of the camp. She unsheathed Sosul'ka as she walked, shutting down all sense of emotion in her mind. I don't want to do this.

Explosions and gunshots, screams of despair and commanding yells: the sounds of war were the only things Karla was registering in her brain, even now as she sat in the tent. She was trying to ignore the stabbing pain in the back of her right shoulder, a gunshot wound she'd obtained while trying to cripple an Ishvalan fighter. That was the most she had tried to do to these people; she hadn't stricken a fatal blow yet, even as other soldiers did.

Fessler was growing more and more desperate for results, she'd noticed. His decisions so far had gotten a good portion of the platoon killed, and she'd been determined to avoid him. After all, she couldn't carry out his disastrous orders if he couldn't find her to give them to her. The man hungered for death. His dedication to this was almost frightening; it was as if he was growing more and more inhuman the more orders he gave. How such a person could exist Karla didn't understand; all she knew was that she wanted to avoid him as much as possible.

She stared down at her hands, one of which still clutched her knife. They were black with gunpowder and dirt, tainted with blood from both herself and others. She hadn't killed anyone, and yet… just being here was taking its toll on her. She could feel it, the heaviness in her heart, the despair that was growing within her. She knew she couldn't let it best her. She couldn't allow herself to break down. She would be weak then, something she never wanted to be. Was she really strong by being here, though?

A sudden bout of shouting by Fessler outside suddenly gripped her attention, and she moved to peer outside the tent. He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, but this didn't surprise her. On the ground in front of him, however, sat none other than Major Armstrong, and her eyes widened.

The man looked completely and utterly defeated. His expression was blank, but his eyes bore the shadows of horror, despair, and complete shock. Something had finally broken him, and Karla gripped the side of the tent flap in alarm. No, she thought. Why…? Why did it have to be this? Why are we even here?!

Fessler was screaming at him, clearly infuriated, and the words streaming from him were those of humiliation and beratement, of criticism and insults. It wasn't this that fully infuriated Karla, though it did contribute. No, it was that Armstrong was sitting there and taking it, as if he had no say of his own, and it was clear the officer was only making him worse. Her eyes narrowed as anger coursed through her.

This is not how a commander should treat his soldiers!

"General!" Her mouth was running before she'd even had a chance to contemplate stopping it, and before the more rational part of her brain had caught up to the rest of her, she'd departed the tent and stormed up to him. Fessler turned to look at her, his eyes burning with anger.

"What the hell do you want, Major?" he demanded. "Can't you see I'm a bit busy? Where the hell have you been?"

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" Karla fired back. She was in no mood for this man's suicidal commands. "Can't you see your soldier is traumatized? What kind of commander do you think you are?"

"Major Armstrong can't seem to do what's expected of him," Fessler growled. "If there's one thing I hate, it's a weak soldier, which is exactly what he is! Not that I think any better of you - you've been hiding like a spineless coward, haven't you? You damned Briggs soldiers talk like you're the sole reason this country hasn't been driven into the ground, but when it comes time to act, you don't do a damn thing!"

Karla's eyes narrowed, and her fists clenched in rage. It was taking all she had not to punch this man square in the jaw, and that control was fading fast. Her heart was racing in her ears, the pain in her shoulder was growing more and more unbearable, and she knew she was about to be in trouble again. "What we do up at Briggs is none of your concern," she snarled. "It's better than being driven straight into death by an incompetent idiot of a leader!"

The next thing she knew, a loud clap sounded, and her cheek stung as she fell to the ground. She growled, quickly pushing herself up to see Fessler staring down at her, fury consuming his gaze. "You're not the one making the decisions, little girl," he hissed. "Get the hell out of my camp. I don't want to see you again until you've actually done your job."

With that, he stormed away, leaving both her and Armstrong in the dirt. She looked over at him, hoping for a response, but he was still as frozen in shock as he had been a few minutes ago. She crawled over to him and shook him gently. "Major," she said, trying to get him to look at her. "Major Armstrong!"

"Chernikova!" Fessler's yell was sharp, causing her to look up once again to where he was standing only a mere few feet away from them. "Leave him! He isn't worth shit! What did I just tell you? Get the hell out of my camp, or you'll be the next one sent home in a body bag!"

She groaned in frustration, though got to her feet and fled, rushing into the city. Why in the hell wouldn't he listen to her? She really didn't want to be here... he couldn't make her kill anyone. He didn't have that much control over her. Even so, she unsheathed Sosul'ka again, just in case there were any surprise attackers. I can't kill any of these people, she thought again as the sounds of guns and screams rang out around her. I can't do it, I can't do it, they can't make me do it, I won't do it…

An explosion suddenly went off several feet from her, and she skidded to a stop, ducking behind a building for cover. The wound in her shoulder throbbed as she collided with the wall, but the only concern in her mind was where the hell the explosion came from. As far as she knew, nobody in this platoon used grenades… She peered from behind the wall, seeing only smoke in the distance, and the ground was littered with debris. "That was one massive explosion," she muttered, emerging from her shelter. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She continued walking, completely lost, trying to ignore the sight of the corpses on the ground as she went. Some Ishvalan, some Amestrian… but everyone looked the same in death, and that was a fact she knew well. She couldn't help but be reminded of Virnikov in this moment, yet again, of all the death she'd seen around her there. Friends and foes alike had died there, just as they were dying here. Her heart began racing again as a strange feeling came over her, almost as if something was gripping hard on her chest, smothering her. Instantly, she wanted to flee again, just as she had back then, hands clamped over her ears as she had hidden in her closet, hoping and praying she would live through the night.

You can't do that this time. You sealed your fate by coming here.

She caught sight of an Ishvalan woman ahead of her, one who was crouched against another building, a small bundle in her arms. Automatically Karla brandished her knife, though neither party made a move to attack. There was a great possibility that the bundle was some sort of explosive, she knew; this woman could be involved in a suicide attack… but Karla was still driven to try and help her by some strange urge, and it only took her a split second to sheathe her weapon and rush over to her.

Upon reaching the woman, who was shrinking back more and more the closer the alchemist came to her, Karla realized the bundle in her arms was an infant, one whose desperate, wanting cries were loud and sorrowful. I can't leave these people to die. They haven't done anything to me. "Listen," she said, crouching down to the woman's level. "I know you're afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you, I swear it." The woman stared at her, her crimson eyes filled with nothing but terror, and it hurt Karla's heart to see. A sudden idea occurred to her; she would do anything to try and help this woman fear her less. Her hands flew down to her belt, her fingers quickly unbuckling it and tossing it to the ground, a good distance away from her. The sheath clattered to the ground, still strapped to the belt. "I'm no longer armed," she told her, gesturing to the blade in the dirt. "I want to help. Will you let me?"

It took a moment, the woman glancing nervously between Karla and her thrown knife, but eventually she nodded. Karla grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet, then began running in the direction she'd just come from, taking the woman with her. She was going to get her out of here come hell or high water. She turned a corner just as she was about to come up to the camp, dragging the woman into an alleyway. They were in danger of being attacked here, but it was better than leading her back to camp and having the soldiers there just shoot her dead…

As they approached the mouth of the alley, Karla skidded to a stop as a blue-clad man leapt down in front of her. Oh, god, no, she thought, groping around for her knife before she realized she'd left it behind in the dirt. Great, she'd been caught, and she had no way to defend herself… "Get behind me," she muttered to the woman as she spread out her arms in an attempt to block her from his sight. Keeping her eyes locked on the man in front of her, Karla heard movement behind her, but didn't dare turn her head to look. She had to trust that the woman had listened to her, and the slight pressure against the backs of her legs just then confirmed that trust.

The man in front of her began approaching her then, and Karla had to keep from taking a step back. "Who are you?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to stay with your platoon!"

The man merely smirked, then withdrew a hand from behind his back. "You're missing this, aren't you?" he asked, shaking her belt. "It would be such a shame if your only weapon went missing. You should thank me."

He tossed it to her feet, and her heart raced within her chest. "How did you know that was mine?" she asked.

"You're the only Drachman around here for miles," the soldier replied. "It's a Drachman knife. I merely pieced the puzzle together." He was directly in front of her, and he was taller than her, and Karla could see a long black ponytail half over his shoulder. He exuded an air of complete politeness, but that only terrified her more. There was nothing more frightening to her than someone like this, whose motives she couldn't place whatsoever, who was a complete mystery to her.

"Who are you?" she repeated, and she heard that faint tremble in her voice, she could feel herself shaking, but it didn't seem to faze him at all. Instead, he merely reached around her for a moment, bringing the Ishvalan woman and her child out from their hiding place by the woman's collar.

"You know," he said, backing up slightly and tossing them to the ground in front of her, "you could get court-martialed for this. Helping the enemy to escape when your orders are extermination could get you into a fair bit of trouble."

The woman laid where she was on the ground, though Karla could see her shaking in fear when she glanced down at her, and the child had gone strangely silent. "I'm not killing anyone," she spat, taking a step back. "I don't care if I get in trouble for it. Let them go. They didn't do anything to you or to me."

The soldier smirked. "You're just as noble as he was," he said, tilting his head briefly in the direction of her camp. "I understand. The desire to kill is hard to acknowledge for some people, especially for someone as young as you. However, little Drachman…" His eyes narrowed, and his smirk widened. "Everyone has to do it sometime."

Karla's stomach twisted. "I have no desire to kill," she shot back. "None of this should be happening! I'm not killing innocent people I've never seen before! They don't deserve any of this!"

The soldier bent down, picking her belt and sheath up off the ground. The alchemist automatically took another step back as he unsheathed her knife, looking down and inspecting it. "So, I see you deal with closer combat," he said, turning the weapon over in his hand. She spotted some sort of complicated tattoo on his palm, one of some sort of array she'd never seen before. This soldier was an alchemist, too… "However, I also see no blood on this blade. Your conviction is honorable. You really haven't killed anyone yet, have you?"

Karla shook her head. "I don't intend to, either. I never wanted to come here. This… this isn't what I signed up for when I enlisted!"

At this, her fellow alchemist laughed. "You're a state alchemist," he said, sliding the knife back into its sheath. "A marked dog of the military. You can't say you didn't know what you would be used for. You signed up for all of it, Chernikova. This is all you're for. This is all we are for. If you just accept it, revel in it, it will make it all easier for you." He tossed her belt at her again, and this time she caught it before the buckle would have struck her in the head. "After all…" He leaned in closer to her, and she wanted to back away, she wanted to flee, but her legs refused to move. "Whenever else will you get to flex your abilities quite as much as you will right now? Doesn't it sound more than amazing? You can either be back where you're stationed, your skills growing more and more rusty by the day… or you can be here, stretching them to their fullest extent, letting them grow to their maximum potential."

Karla shook her head again, anger flaring within her. "You're insane," she growled, now able to take another step back. "You're absolutely insane! I don't think like that!"

The alchemist smirked, then turned away from her. "You'll doom yourself, being so noble," he said. Karla peered around him to see the Ishvalan on the ground only now trying to scramble away, and he trapped her by crushing her hand beneath his boot. "You're not going anywhere," he hissed at her. He reached back, taking Karla's arm before she could react, and jerked her forward.

"What are you doing?" Karla demanded, trying to break free of his grip. "Let go of me!" She struggled against him, but his grasp of her arm was stronger than she'd thought it was, and he spun her around to face him.

"Listen to me," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You're about to learn a very important lesson of war. I'm surprised your commanding officer hasn't taught you it already." As Karla swung her belt up, he caught it in his free hand, wrenching it out of hers. "Oh, no. You're not that slick, my dear. You know you're not supposed to fight those on your own side."

He shoved Karla towards the Ishvalan. Karla, meanwhile, stumbled over her own feet and fell to the ground, and she was about to climb back to her feet when she looked up to see the soldier looking down at her. "Now. You're going to do what I tell you, all right?" He crouched down, the woman's hand still underneath his boot. Reaching around Karla, he took the infant from the woman, standing back to his full height and holding it with one arm.

"What are you doing?" Karla shouted once again. "It's a baby! Leave it alone! It didn't do anything to you!"

"You see these?" he asked, showing her one palm so she could see the array in full. "These are my weapons. Both of them. I've been waiting forever for an opportunity such as this… and I think it's the perfect time to have a little alchemical demonstration."

Before Karla could react, the alchemist set the child on the ground, then clapped his hands together. "No!" both women shrieked, but it was to no avail. The moment his hands touched the child, it resulted in an explosion, and Karla turned to shield the woman only just in time as debris from the building next to them rained down upon them. When the dust cleared, Karla raised her head to see there was only a small hole in the building and nothing but a black spot on the ground where the child had once lay.

"Consider yourself lucky, Drachman," the soldier said, his voice ringing with pride. "I controlled that especially for you. Can't have a perfectly good alchemist dying on me before I'm done with her, hm?"

The Ishvalan woman burst into tears, and Karla's fury ignited within her. She got to her feet rather shakily and cursed herself for not having a second weapon on her. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she snarled. "You shouldn't have killed that child…"

He merely shrugged. "Perhaps. Or, perhaps I should have, considering it would have grown up into another troublemaking Ishvalan. Either way…" He unsheathed her knife from her belt and held it out to her. "You get to finish the job."

Karla slowly looked between the knife and the sobbing woman on the ground as it all connected in her brain. He wanted her to… to… "I refuse," she hissed, taking a step back. "You can't make me do this!"

"You are correct, I cannot," the soldier replied. "I can, however, report your betrayal to your commanding officer. I can also blow up your sweet little head whenever I want." He leaned into her again, his face mere inches from hers. "So, if you want to stay out of trouble and be a good little alchemist, I suggest you listen to me."

What in the hell am I supposed to do?! She most certainly didn't want to end up killed, and she didn't want to be labeled a traitor to her forces… but she didn't want to have to kill someone else, either…

Mother was right, everyone was right, I'm not mature enough for this yet…

Her heart was racing, her hands were trembling, her shoulder was still throbbing, and she felt as if she was floating, watching herself from a distance. Her mind screamed at her as she took the knife from the alchemist, and as she crouched down in front of the woman, she could only barely hear the soldier cackle behind her.

"Do it," he hissed softly. "You know where the jugular vein is, don't you? You should."

No! the voice in her mind screamed. Don't do it, you can't do it, you're so much better than this!

The woman on the ground was pleading with her, but she didn't move as Karla mechanically grasped her hair with one hand. The blade glinted in the faint strip of light that beamed into the alley shortly before it swung, piercing into the brown skin of the woman's neck.

Only the mad laughter of the soldier behind her brought her back to reality, and Karla found herself letting go of the Ishvalan's hair, staring right into her eyes as she let her fall back to the ground. Blood seeped from her throat, and she slowly looked down at her knife to realize the blade had seemingly dyed crimson. Her eyes widened, and she felt like screaming. "What… what have I…"

"Very good, little alchemist," the soldier said. "You're a killer now, just like the rest of us. You won't be in trouble now. In fact, I'll put a good word in for you, how's that?"

Karla ignored him, and with a rush of adrenaline threw herself forward, pressing her hands over the woman's wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "No, you can't," she gasped, her vision growing strangely blurry. "You can't… don't die, I'll get help, I'll get help, just hold on…"

The Ishvalan reached up, gripping one of Karla's wrists. Karla looked down into her eyes, trying to blink away the blurriness in her own, but her face grew strangely wet as she did so, and damn it, why was the woman trying to stop her? "Stop it," Karla urged, trying to get her to let go. "Stop, I'm trying to help, I promise, I'm sorry-"

A faint, horrid rattling sound reached her then, and the woman's grip on her loosened. Karla could only watch as the light in her eyes faded to blankness. She slid herself backward, away from her, and looked down at her own hands. Her knife lay only inches away, still marked with blood… and on her palms was the same blood. The blood that she had drawn.

I didn't do it… I didn't, I couldn't have…

A scream tore from her throat.