To one of the reviewers: London? I think not. This is Valdemar.

Dutchman: Inferno

First Impressions

Mustang awoke to the sound of a bell tolling. The air was cool, and a slight breeze whispered through the leaves. He opened his eyes. He was lying on the soft moss beneath a broken archway. He sat up and looked around. Ruins. The area looked like it had once been a temple of some sort. Standing, he stepped out from under the archway and looked at his surroundings more closely.

The ruins were in the center of a small grove. It was autumn, and the trees were changing color. The air was far more humid than what he was accustomed to.

'Well, I'm definitely not in Central anymore.'

Stretching, he winced as he felt the skin around his scars pulling taut, his farewell gift from Pride.

'Scars? The Gate must have healed me…yeah, otherwise I'd be bleeding all over the place. But why am I still in my bloody uniform? Oh, well. I suppose I will be able to get them cleaned somewhere.'

He checked his pockets. 'Chalk, gloves, notebook…and the circles on the gloves are clear…'

Mustang wandered away from the ruins. When he reached the trees, he looked back at his landing spot. He thought it odd that the bell tower was still in good condition. 'Wait. Bell? Wasn't it tolling when I arrived? Who was ringing it? He's got to be around here somewhere.'

Mustang hunted around the ruins for a bit, but finding nothing, shrugged, and walked into the forest.

Mustang only had to walk a short distance before exiting the trees. He was in the middle of a large field, surrounded by a fence. A paddock.

'Well, I am a Mustang after all.'

But where were the horses? It was empty and quiet. No, not quite. He could hear a bell clanging and shouting coming from his left. It sounded distant, but near enough that he could hear what was going on.

"Fire! Form a bucket line! Now! Move! More water! We need more buckets! Hurry!"

A fire. A bad one by the sound of it. He ran in the direction of the noise to see what he could do.

This wasn't a fire. It was an inferno. No matter how much water was poured on, or dirt was thrown on, the fire would not go out.

'What can be feeding it? It looks like…It can't be…nobody here should be able to…' His thoughts ran in circles. Alchemy should be impossible here! But if someone else could do it, so could he…

Mustang slipped on his gloves, and formed a circle with thumb and forefinger. And encountered resistance.

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Lavan was lost. Where did the fire come from? How did those boys just burst into flame? Somehow, he knew he was responsible, but he couldn't do anything! Flames blossomed all around him, sending his hair rising upward, propelled by tiny flames that licked the air savagely, a roiling cloud of fury that destroyed everything but him. One of the boys tried to dash past him, making for the door. The flames saw this attempt to escape. The boy did not have a chance. He dropped to the floor screaming, to lie next to the other three bodies.

His other tormentors shrieked in terror. "Please! Please!"

Lavan wrestled some of the flame under control, but the flames then turned on him. He could feel a second force try to calm the inferno, but the dragon was too strong. He screamed in agony, then passed out as the flames fed.

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Mustang gritted my teeth as the heat from the raging fire washed over him, holding the back of his right hand with his left, palm outward, as he sought to transmute the oxygen and carbon into carbon dioxide, to smother the flames. It didn't work; something was fighting against him. Sweat broke out on his brow. Now what? 'What would Fullmetal do?' Jump right into the fire, and rescue anyone still inside. He couldn't do that.

'But I'm an alchemist, right? And I can manipulate more than just gases.'

He bent and drew a circle on the ground, and pressed his hand onto it. Blue lighting flashed, and the wall of the building crumbled in an instant, all the flammable elements removed and blown away as dust. What remained of the wall fell inward, smothering whatever fires were behind it. He couldn't save the building, but he could keep the fire from spreading.

Three figures staggered out of the fire, and collapsed in front of him, gasping, all sporting horrible burns, but nobody rushed forward to help them.

'Where were the other people helping with the bucket line?'

They were all standing back, looking at him in shock and fear. Fear. They were afraid of him! Mustang was too worn out to care right then. He turned back to the building, but the fire had died out on it's own. 'Good. That other alchemist decided to give up.' He turned back to the boys lying on the ground.

"Help them!" he screamed at the onlookers, and attempted to lift the first boy up. Attempted until he fell over, and collapsed forward. He had worn myself to exhaustion, fighting whoever had been controlling the fire.

Seeing that he was helpless, a few people dashed forward, grabbed the boys, and dragged them off, while someone else called for stretchers and a Healer.

'Oh, good. They finally get their act together.'

But nobody was coming to help him. That was when he felt the spear in his back.

"Don't move," a voice warned.

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OK, I'm going to keep the chapters short, because of work and class.

Thanks to all those who reviewed chapter 1. Once again: This is not London.