Thank you Shadow Dreamer 27 and solitaire for the replies they are greatly appreciated. No worries, I'm already 6 chapters ahead and totally plan on finishing it in the next month or so.

The Quality of Sin

The Present

Sand blew across the sparsely populated streets of Gyali, the last port of civilization between the eastern frontier and Ishbal and the Great Desert. For a time now, it had been quiet, seeing little activity since the end of the Ishbal rebellion six years earlier, but still was considered important to the State. At least, that was what General Hakuro had said when he had given Lt. Colonel Soham his latest assignment to oversee the small group of troops there.

At first, it had sounded like a glorious assignment, but it was a virtual ghost town Soham learned upon arrival. The post held at most a hundred men acting as little more than a military police force where the area was lacking civilian law.

For Soham, the posting was an insult at best. He certainly earned better treatment than this exile when others, much younger, had earned a higher rank and better station than he had.

The tall man snarled as he stormed through the sparse market as five armed soldiers in black and one Lieutenant struggled to keep caught up with his long strides. "I don't like this quiet," the Lt. Colonel said as he looked to the blond haired man next to him, Lt. Jarrow. "The locals are up to something."

"Perhaps, sir, the executions this morning of suspected rebels—"

"They were not suspected. They were plotting against the State," Soham sternly corrected.

"Yes, sir."

And that was how it went, when the Lt. Colonel spoke, no one questioned him. It may have been a lousy posting but he would do his job with relish and get back into the graces of the higher ups. He would mercilessly put down any hints of rebellion and to keep his small section of the East quiet.

Just the other day they had raided a dry goods shop that was a front for a refugee escape route. They had been secreting unaccounted for Ishbalans away from the military controlled camps. Certainly insurgents who had escaped capture were moving through these secret routes, flooding potential rebels into Amestris.

He would make certain Central got word of this. His star would definitely rise.

From the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the shadows of one of the fruit stands pushed up against a wall. A cruel smile slid across his features as he motioned to the five armed men that stood behind him. "Take them into custody!"

As the men moved to obey, Jarrow looked up from his clipboard. "Under what pretenses, sir?"

Soham turned and glared at the young man. He was growing tired of Jarrow always questioning his orders. He was the military around here. He was the law! He was about to snap at the young man when the earth seemed to shift beneath his feet. He retreated a step and looked around. "What is this?"

Bursting out of the ground was a long, jagged shard of glass. It tore into one of the soldiers before he could even travel a few steps. Jarrow narrowly missed being impaled by a second shard and was sent tumbling to the ground. The instant he landed with a dull thud, his clipboard fell free, clattering over the sandy street and sent loosed paperwork swirling about in the breeze that coursed through Gyali.

Terror filled Soham as he looked to the other men who were retreating. Angrily, he pointed to the people who were sheltered beneath the fruit stand awning. "Take them!" he bellowed. "If anyone gives you trouble, shoot them!"

Just as the men nodded in determination and rushed forward to carry out their superior's bloody orders, a voice called out: "Stop!"

Soham snarled. "Who dares?"

From the shadows emerged a dozen men, their dark skin and glaring red eyes easily identified them as Ishbalan. The same arching tattoo with gray painted bars across their eyes like a mask was far more striking than their skin or eyes.

The mark of the exiled.

"Hareti," the Lt. Colonel whispered almost without realizing it.

One of the men stepped forward. He was dressed plainly, common for an Ishbalan save for the rusted red cloth draped across his right shoulder, a sign that he was teacher and followed by many. His lips formed a thin smile. "You remember us, Major Soham."

The officer laughed boldly. "I haven't been a major since the days of the Ishbal uprising." And while he spat the words, showing his disdain for these Ishbalan scum, the truth was he was terrified. He remembered Medes and crawling out from under the charred, bullet riddled corpses of his men.

Medes was the reason he had nearly been court marshaled and put before the firing squad for costing the lives of a dozen young soldiers, some quality sharpshooters that then Colonel Grand had been unhappy to loose. He had been called a coward for his part in Medes, while another had been called a hero.

At the edge of his vision he saw his four remaining men, their rifles shaking so violently that they likely could not hit the side of a building as well as the useless Jarrow, which was no match for these barbarians that moved to surround he and his men.

The woman's voice he had heard earlier called out. "Or perhaps, we should just call you the Butcher of Medes?"

From behind the man who had spoken appeared a woman. She was dressed in sand colored fatigues. Formerly black hair was salted with a generous amount of gray that she had tied back in a tight knot.

Smirking, Soham recognized her immediately. "So you have finally come to turn yourself in?"

"Of course not, Lt. Colonel." Her lips twisted into a strangely warm smile and she spoke with a light, pleasant tone. "I've come to kill you."

The smile bled from Soham's face as he struggled to keep his composure.

The frightened voices of his men caught Soham's attention. They murmured and stared at the shredded body of their fellow soldier still hanging off the shards of glass that had appeared to magically sprout from the earth.

"You should have stayed dead, Odessa Rhodes," Soham growled. "Shoot her!"

It took a moment too long for them to react. Rifles fired but bullets were stopped by thick walls of solid glass that rose up like a damn, shielding the woman and the man from the attack.

Without even a word whispered, the gathered Ishbalan men suddenly raced into action. Even as bullets flew past, they did not hesitate, racing forward and slaughtering the four soldiers with knives and heavy farm tools.

Odessa remained crouched, her hands pressed to the ground in front of her. The wall of glass twisted as if fluid then shattered, raining shards down between her and Soham. She remained motionless even as she spoke softly, "I can still hear their screams as the temple burned. Mothers and their children crying out for revenge." She looked to the Ishbalan men who stood over the bodies of the four soldiers. "Their wives and children."

Jarrow shifted nervously from where he lay on the ground. The Ishbal turned to glare at him but did not move. Blood oozed from a deep gash on his left cheek where he had scraped it hitting the ground.

Remaining crouched, Odessa straightened slightly, raising her hands from the dusty street and revealing the black alchemic arrays tattooed to her palms and fingertips. "Their cries will not be silenced until those responsible are dead."

Soham snarled. "You should speak, traitor." He spat on the ground. "You betrayed tactical information of the State to that Ishbal rebel." He pointed a damning finger toward the man next to Odessa. He would bet his life on the fact that was Hirada himself. "You helped in moving arms to the rebels prolonging the war. You are responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of dead soldiers."

The smile melted from Odessa's face. "I saw the truth of the war against the Ishbal. I could not serve the State as their Healing Touch Alchemist."

It was not a soldier's place to question his orders or the Fuhrer. "Traitorous bitch!"

"Be thou for the people."

"Our people, not these Ishbalan barbarians!"

"They did nothing but inhabit the land the State wanted. They were peaceful people, forced into war."

The men, holding primitive weapons, farming equipment, rushed at Soham. Chains lashing out as shovels came crashing toward the tall man. He cried out as he was battered in all directions. The wind knocked from him, he doubled over in agony as clubs shattered ribs.

"That's enough," Hirada, who stood next to Odessa barked and instantly, the other tattooed men obeyed. They retreated from the bloodied, groaning mess.

This was not fair! Soham thought as he struggled, weakly to try and get up. Sent into exile with a lousy posting, incompetent soldiers and now…now he was going to die at the hands of an insane woman.

Below him, the ground rumbled, shifted and erupted as crystalline shards tore through the street and into soft flesh, suspending him above the ground. Blood flowed down the jagged pieces, pooling on the dusty street below.

Listening to the dying gasps, Odessa paused only a moment before standing up. She shook the sand and grit from her hands.

Such messy business alchemy.

No, that's not the way to approach it, she thought, otherwise she was no better than the alchemists that destroyed Ishbal. She was not an animal or a blind fool who followed orders indiscriminately. No, she was better than that.

The gurgle of blood-filled lungs drew her attention and she crossed the distance between her and where Soham's body hung like a scarecrow in the middle of the street. She did not meet his dying gaze but instead looked to the five dead soldiers. "You killed them just the same as when in Medes. You led all those young men to the slaughter and then fled like a coward. You can't run now."

Fluid-filled laughter. "I didn't even know about the weapons or the Hareti, I just wanted to capture you. My star would have soared." Soham coughed, winced and then slowly added, "They will hunt every last one of you down. My death will not go unpunished."

Odessa stared at the dying man. His pained face left the bitter taste of disgust in her mouth. "Yes, our deaths are certain, but then again, everyone dies, some sooner than others."

Soham's head slumped forward as a last, gurgling breath escaped him.

"You should have let me do it," Hirada said from behind.

"No," she said evenly, hiding the sadness that seemed to invade her. Soham was scum, he deserved to die, she told herself. "I had to do it. I am the only one who can kill the other one. I have to learn what it is to take lives."

"You should not have to. We are more than enough in number. An ambush—"

"They came after me."

Hirada placed a hand on her shoulder. "They would have come for us eventually. You should not blame yourself."

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Innocents died at Medes. If the military had not sent soldiers for her, then perhaps, they would have had time to help the women and children escape.

Jarrow shifted, trying to crawl away from the scene. His eyes were wide with terror.

"Stop him!" Hirada barked and his men started for the young man.

"No," Odessa said. "Leave him be."

"We should leave none of them alive."

"What was his crime?" she asked. "He questioned the orders." She knelt before Jarrow and carefully looked him over. Gentle laughter. "Don't be afraid, boy. If you were meant to die here, you would be dead now." Catching sight of the deep gash along Jarrow's cheek that left the side of his face crimson with blood.

Reaching toward him, Odessa found surprise when Jarrow withdrew slightly, then glanced toward Soham's body still hanging from the shards. She sighed. "Yes, I deserve your fear." She reached out again, this time with more determination, drawing the young man's face close so she could examine the wound. "It's not serious."

"I—I—"

"Don't be afraid, I really do know what I am doing. I was a doctor once."

With a careful touch, she pressed the wounded flesh together with her tattooed fingers. The flow of blood ceased and the wound glowed with a pale purple light before fading to reveal fresh pink of scar tissue.

"I am a little out of practice," she said, "but I promise it looks better than what it would if military doctor got a hold of you and clumsily threaded the wound together. They don't care the butchery, as long as you live."

She stared at the young man's blood still wet on her fingers. The red covered the varied black arrays unique to each pad. Once, she had used them to heal wounded soldiers. Once, before she watched them murder innocent women and children solely because they were Ishbal.

Standing, she looked down at the still shocked soldier. "If you insist on this life, stay behind a desk, but for now, you will be my messenger. Tell them, tell them all, that Odessa Rhodes is seeking revenge for Medes.

"Tell the Flame Alchemist that he is next."