DISCLAMER: I own nothing other than the fanfiction itself

A/N: I know this one came out soon after the last chapter, but it is a bit of a trade-off this time around. I am going out of town next week and would be unable to post (as I will probably not have wifi). I'm giving you this chapter early, but there probably won't be one up next weekend (unless I somehow find the time to sit down and write while on vacation).

I referenced Volume Fifteen of the manga for this dialogue, but the same standard goes for this chapter as the previous one. I typed the words from memory rather than directly from the text.

Chapter Two: What We Signed Up For

Before she found Roy on the battlefield, Riza never really conversed with her fellow soldiers. She was still in the academy, which placed her at the bottom of the totem pole – not to mention the fact that she was a woman. There was no denying the fact that she faced discrimination due to her sex, but she managed to avoid a good deal of confrontation by remaining silent and fading into the background. She was able to fend off much of the physical abuse other women soldiers suffered by simply wielding her rifle at all times (there wasn't a man in her squadron who doubted she would shoot if they laid a hand on her), but the mental attacks she sometimes suffered were a different story. As a woman, she was viewed as the weaker sex, both in a physical and psychological sense, and there always seemed to be one man who felt he could taunt or belittle her without repercussion.

Due to the fact that she began spending the majority of her time off the battlefield with Roy and Maes, much of this abuse dwindled. Roy, as a State Alchemist with the rank of Major, and Maes, with the rank of Sergeant, kept the lower-ranking officers in line with threats and moderate abuse of their power. Granted, their undisguised shows of favoritism gave way to a series of less-than-favorable rumors, of which Riza was able to pick up a few whispers. It seemed that, no matter what, she was doomed to suffer one form of abuse or another, and she decided that the subtlety of rumors was the lesser of the two evils when compared to outright verbal abuse.

On one particular afternoon, the three of them were sitting around a fire as lunch was prepared by a low-ranking soldier. Several men from their regiments had joined them, and the topic on everyone's mind was the morality of their actions. The gaze of one soldier – one of Maes' subordinates, if she wasn't mistaken – dropped to the cup in his hand as he voiced the question most of them were too afraid to ask.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Why?" A cold voice repeated in an almost mocking tone. "Because that's the duty of a soldier – of a State Alchemist. Why do we kill people we're supposed to protect? Because those are the orders we were given." The man's lips curled upwards into a cruel smirk as his slanted eyes took in the faces of everyone taking part in their circle. "Isn't that right?"

Riza didn't know who had invited Major Solf J. Kimblee into their group, but she had done her best to ignore his presence up until now. Ever since Kimblee had arrived, he had been giving her strange looks, and she found it rather unnerving. So far, keeping her head down had been an effective strategy, and she continued to do just that as silence fell over the group.

It didn't last long, however; Roy's annoyed voice pierced the quiet. "So you're just going to try and rationalize all of this away?" His contempt was clear in his words and body language.

"Can't you just look at this as a job?" Kimblee retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Any of you?" Again, he received no response. His gaze passed over the faces of everyone in the group. "Well, then, how about…" His eyes fixed upon Riza. "You there, little lady. You don't like your job, do you? It's written all over your face."

Riza resisted the urge to flinch, her eyes lifting to Kimblee's smirking face. "That's true." She admitted quietly. "I don't like killing people."

"Really?" Kimblee's eyes met hers, and she was pinned to the spot by his gaze in a moment of oppressive silence. His smirk widened as he spoke again. "Tell me, Miss Marksman – in that moment after you pull the trigger, don't you feel just the slightest tinge of satisfaction as you watch your target hit the ground? Don't you take the slightest bit of pride in your skill?"

Kimblee was right – he couldn't have been more correct. Riza's eyes widened in horror as she realized how much of a monster she actually was. How sick could she be? To think that she truly did take pride in that brief moment when her bullet made contact with its mark! Her shoulders began to shake, and she couldn't stop, no matter how hard she tried.

"That's enough, Kimblee!"

Roy had leaped up from his seat and rushed at the other alchemist, grabbing him roughly by the collar of his shirt. Kimblee looked up at him, a challenging glint in his eyes; he was practically daring Roy to hit him.

"From my experience, your group is much harder to understand. You're always looking for ways to rationalize your part on the battlefield." Kimblee narrowed his eyes at Roy. "Is it evil to kill with alchemy? Is it better to kill using a gun? Or maybe you were prepared to kill just one or two people, but not thousands?" He lifted his right index finger, pointing accusingly at Roy. "From the moment you put on that uniform, you knew something like this could happen. If you had a problem with that, why did you put it on in the first place? You act like you're the victims, but you chose this path of your own accord. You signed up for this. If you want to pity yourselves, you shouldn't have killed anyone in the first place!"

Kimblee leaned in close to Roy, placing his mouth directly beside the other man's ear. "Don't turn your eyes away from death. Look straight ahead. Stare right into the faces of the people you're killing. And don't forget them – never forget them – because I can guarantee that they're never going to forget you."

Suddenly, a loud clanging sound came over the loudspeakers wired to the sides of abandoned Ishbalan buildings. Kimblee smirked, moving away from Roy and prying the other alchemist's fingers from around his collar. "Oh, it's time. I'd better be going." He stood, looking around at the faces he had rendered stricken with horror at their own actions. With a stifled chuckle, he turned and left the group.

Riza sat motionless as the other soldiers began to stand, shaking themselves out of the morbid place in their minds Kimblee had sent them all to. It was time to get to work, and they were perfectly aware that they had a duty to perform. However, Riza couldn't quite snap herself out of her horrified state – Kimbee's accusations had been directed at her from the beginning, after all. She now knew exactly what his piercing gaze had meant: the entire time he had been near her, he had been evaluating her, searching out her strengths and weaknesses. He knew just how to get beneath her skin and stab her where it hurt the most. Most of all, he had isolated her as an easy target.

Upon feeling a hand on her shoulder, she jumped, jolting back to reality. Her eyes lifted to Roy's face, seeing undisguised concern in his onyx eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Riza assured him, though her voice wasn't very convincing. She offered him a slight smile, but even that didn't help her case. Relinquishing the attempt, she sighed, reaching out to grab her rifle before standing up. "Come on, we have to report for duty."

Roy looked down at her with a worried expression, wanting to do nothing more than comfort her (and perhaps give his fellow State Alchemist a couple of third-degree burns for his carefully constructed verbal attack on Riza). Nonetheless, they were expected to arrive at their posts, and they couldn't keep their superior officers waiting. The two of them headed off after their comrades, perfectly aware that they were about to stain their hands with blood, guilty and innocent alike. This was what they had signed up for, and they had to follow orders.

A/N: Rate and review! :)

Up Next:

Chapter Three: Collateral Damage