Notes: Yeah, I know I haven't updated for ages since the first chapter. Sorry - I just moved from Japan to Korea then to Canada again, and I don't have access to my own computer any more. So this time, I'm using my dad's for two hours or so. I hope you'll understand. :)

I've thought up some more ideas for the later chapters... A word of warning - I love beating up my favourite characters, and making them suffer. Muahahaha! Don't expect this story to be light on the violence, especially later on. I hope, though, it'll be at least a little interesting - please, do read on! And don't forget to review, please! (hehe, two 'please's!)

Here we go!

Chapter Two

"Sir, you haven't told me your name yet. Would you care to...?"

"Ah, where are my manners? I'm called Mustang - Roy Mustang."


How hard the government was trying to get its hands on Roy Mustang.

To him, it was pretty funny. No, hilarious. Pathetic. A part of his many motives was to show the world how worthless law and order were. He was doing a very good job of it. Many of the most popular cartoons and articles in magazines ridiculed the government and its forces - 'Amestris fails to put out a matchstick' (although Roy wasn't particularly fond of the title), a caricature of an anonymous military officer being cooked over a fire labelled 'Mustang'... It was so amusing.

Roy sat down on a bench near the fountain. He yawned and stretched - staying up all night burning down buildings was tiring. He'd come to the conclusion that flame alchemy wasn't enough a long time ago, so he'd attempted other kinds, as well. He hadn't been sure whether it would work or not. Mustang hadn't transmutated anything other than oxygen and flames since he was learning under Hawkeye. But he'd tried - and it'd worked. After a little bit of practise he was able to put up walls or change the locations of entire bridges to aid his many escapes. And, remembering Scar from back when he'd served in the military, Roy even attempted destructive alchemy. Its results had been quite astonishing, and terrifying. The abandoned warehouse Roy chose as a target had been reduced to rubble in a single boom. This, he'd told himself, is something to use only in emergencies.

With all these arsons, robberies, escapes, research and experiments, Roy didn't have much time to even take a short nap. His limbs felt so heavy, burdened with fatigue. Perhaps he'd sleep in a tree, like he'd done several times already. No, it was midday, with too many people around. Maybe he could find an inn to rest in? He dismissed the idea when he remembered the 'wanted' posters with his name plastered over them that he'd seen previously.

"What now..." Mustang looked around. It wouldn't hurt to get a cup of coffee... he thought, and agreed with himself. Conviniently, there was what seemed like a cafe not so far away, on the corner of the street. Hey, having a dose of caffaine isn't a crime, is it?

What are you thinking, you idiot? The only thing you've been doing for the past year is committing so-called sins - what difference would one more make, anyway?

Roy grinned to himself and stood up.


Jane Krowehill was eager for a cup of tea and some cake from her favourite cafe, so as soon as she was dismissed from work, she set off for the place at a brisk pace.

Jane was twenty-two and yet to be married. She was on the pretty side, with straight blond hair and green eyes, along with fair skin. But she wasn't the kind of person that stood out from a crowd - on the contrary. She was smart, but not that smart. She was friendly, but not particularly outgoing. In one word, normal.

She worked at a newspaper company. It hadn't been long since she first took the job - only about four months. Jane still only worked at the pressing and packaging station - she thought herself not ready to report, and had refused to head out to the field just yet. But that was the goal she was aiming for. Jane read as much as she could and always kept her ears open for interesting news. Admittedly, the most interesting thing out there these days was that arsonist, Roy Mustang. Jane often pondered many things about the man - his motives, backround, methods... Not surprisingly, she couldn't find out much. Heck, she couldn't even get ahold of a clear picture of him. It was obvious that the humiliated military had destroyed all records of their formal officer.

Today, Jane was headed to the cafe, like always. There was just one thing bothering her about her daily breaks at the place. Since last week, there had been a mysterious-looking man in her usual seat, every single day at the same time. Tom, the shopkeeper, who was also a close friend of Jane's, had no idea who he was. The person barely talked and he didn't give his name. Something about him made Jane nervous; she still hadn't been able to venture getting close enough to see his face properly. She couldn't tell what it was, but there was something about him...

He was there, today, too. Trying not to stare, Jane said hello to Tom.

"Ah, Jane! I've been waiting for you... It's pretty boring, you know, hanging out by myself in here..."

Jane cast a glance at the stranger, as if to let Tom know that he hadn't been alone. He turned a deep red. "I'd like the usual, Tom." Jane said, "Actually, could I have more sugar in my tea today?"

"Yeah, sure. Coming right up." Tom seemed glad to be able to escape. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I will." Jane chose a shadowed table, not too close to the stranger, but not that far away, either. After absently staring at her lap for a few minutes, she took out her notebook and began to scribble some random doodles in it. She did everything she could to not to stare at the man. Staring isn't polite. She asked herself why she was so afraid to talk to him. She had no answer to her own question.

He beat her to it. "Hi, there, would you mind sitting with me?" He had a pleasant way of talking - polite, not too loud, laid-back. "I'm rather bored."

"Are... Are you talking to me, sir?" Jane knew that there was no one else in the cafe except for Tom.

"Yes." He took off the hat he'd been wearing, revealing black hair and dark eyes. He looked Oriental, maybe Xingese, but was rather handsome in an attractively careless fashion, unlike some other Xingese scholars that Jane had met before.

"I - er- " Seeing no way to refuse, Jane moved to the indicated seat, across from the stranger. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Jane ventured to say, "I haven't seen you around here."

He grinned. "Oh, me? I don't live in this town. I'm just visiting."

"I see."

"And you, Miss? Do you live here?"

"Yes." Jane wondered whether she should say more. "What do you think of my town?"

The stranger leaned back in his seat. "I quite like it. It's nice and quiet, unlike the city I used to be in." He paused, as if pondering his next words. "I came down from Central. I used to be a colonel in the military, but I decided to give up the position."

"A colonel? Wow." Krowehill stared for a moment. Catching herself, she asked hastily, "Why did you quit?"

The man shrugged. "The job was getting to me."

"Oh."

Again, silence. It was as if the man was analyzing her with those sharp eyes of his, but it wasn't in a particularly unfriendly manner. The tea and cake came then. Tom gave Jane a quick glance, set down the tray, and left.

The stranger finally said, "What's your name, Miss...?"

"Krowehill. But you can call me Jane..." Why was she telling him her name, anyway? She took a sip of tea.

"That's a fitting name."

Before she knew it Jane had told the person all about her employment at the newspaper company, her hobbies, likes and dislikes. She found that the stranger was an attentive listener, unlike other people, who paid no attention to her, a nobody. He seemed genuinely interested, although he said nothing about himself. He was so polite! Perhaps it was because he was a former military officer - weren't all generals and all those people so?

Their topic had shifted to the government. "What do you think about Amestris's government, Jane?"

"The government?" Krowehill frowned. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it before. But from what I've seen and heard - they haven't done much for us commoners. They've spent so much on the Ishval genocide... I personally didn't approve of that, even if I was a teenager back then. I've always wondered why someone with a heart couldn't take over the Furher's place. That man - he's a monster."

It was quiet. Suddenly Jane panicked, thinking that she'd said to much. The man's face had hardened, and there was something in his eyes that she couldn't dechiper. "I... I'm sorry..."

"No, it's nothing," he shook his head, "nothing."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Well..." He sighed. "Actually, I fought in the Ishval War... I saw and did so many ugly things. That place... was a hellhole."

"I'm sorry... I didn't know..."

"Of course you couldn't know. It's fine."

After some hesitation, she asked, "What was it like there?"

The man gave a terribly hollow smile. "How to explain? Every day, we'd go out to slaughter Isvhalans - I'd get a more special task. I had to cook them all. Every damn day."

"Cook?" Krowehill put a hand over her mouth. She suddenly didn't want the rest of her cake. The man, seeming to notice, asked,

"May I have the rest of that?"

Jane nodded in answer, and taking an enormous bite out of the cake, he continued.

"I was recognized for my abilities with fire; the stupidest thing I ever did was agreeing to join that campaign." He sighed. "I was a young idiot..."

Jane had a htought creeping into her head. She knew the headlines of her newspaper off by heart. This man reminded her very much of someone she read about every day. It was so improbable; she knew she was crazy for even considering the thought. But maybe, just maybe...? Ishval... Colonel... And didn't he look Xingese? It all fit.

"Sir, you haven't told me your name yet." She said carefully. "Would you care to...?"

He looked surprised. Then he smiled. "Ah, where are my manners? I'm called Mustang - Roy Mustang."