Before October

For Guest - I hope you are enjoying October and yes, this fic will be jumping through time periods, which is crazy and confusing!

For mebh - Thank you ^^ To be honest, I have a few ideas where to take it, but apart from that...the wonders of improvisation XD

I see the plot bunnies now, but why do they keep running away? Please, little bunnies, I need your ideas! Many of you can sympathise - we're all chasing those damn bunnies!

While I dream of herding rabbits, you good people read on. Please enjoy!

Chapter 5: Ishvala's Cry

Roy's eyes narrowed in scepticism, or the impression he hoped to impose upon Maes, as inside, he was furious. Why did he have to be here?

Despite Roy being hidden by a wave of heads from other military recruits, and his body somewhat lacking in height, he knew he would be exposed. Nevertheless, he remained still and held minute breaths which escaped him uneasily. Roy had not seen the man since his childhood, and even those were hazy memories. Although like seeing the bottom of a pool clearly with a stream of sunlight, with all of its haziness drained away, a clear image survived. As soon as Roy had heard that voice, painful memories were beginning to resurface, surrounding Major General Nassor, an ally of his parents, and he hoped that Nassor was now a former ally.

Nassor was altogether ordinarily looking, except for the grizzled pigment which remained as his left eye, spirals of black and white dots. And he didn't conceal the feature with glasses or an eye patch; he revealed its grotesque form to the world like a trophy. He savoured in victory, a desire quenched by war, and how he had climbed through the military ranks as though they were stairs. But he also had a mind upon him too.

Roy gritted his teeth and Maes prodded him in the back, but he barely comprehended the oscillations of the surrounding air particles which his brain computed as words. "What is happening?"

Maes would not need to become involved. From his companion's confused reaction and the silent dedicated listeners from the enrolling students around him, Roy decided that nobody else recognised Nassor as he did.

It was then that Roy understood that Nassor was speaking, in that steely voice, mirthless without a hint of warmth, yet enticing, and already the poor military recruits had been ensnared. Roy thought of Nassor's hypnotic eye driving the recruits to delirium, and he choked back a tense laugh.

"I'm not here to give you promises of any kind, of gold and glory," Nassor paced along, but he kept his face scrutinised upon his audience, never looking away. Roy wondered if he was truly blind in his left eye. "You are here to generate your own promises, whatever petty complaints you may possess. Outside of these gates, you can be your deluded selves and fulfil these desires; relationships, study, gold, glory. None of that matters."

Nassor paused, his eye glinting in its spiteful, black shadow as he inspected the room in the silence. Roy sighed, wishing how at least one villain would not be so clichéd. But he was distracting himself and needed to listen despite how shaken he felt inside. Roy dreaded that hypnotic second, ample time for Nassor's lies to imbed in their victims but short enough to maintain his ruling silence, and for Nassor to realize who was sitting in the back row. Roy. Nassor's gaze filed through the rows, pieces of information, ignoring many faces and sternly looking at others, as if to remember a burly-looking recruit at the military academy. The military was all about resourcefulness, and Nassor was no exception. He was searching for potential in the new recruits. However, the tension was beginning to settle, and Nassor resumed speaking only a row before he would have met Roy's unwilling stare.

"Inside, you are ours. We want to ensure the best for our nation, and in order to do so, we receive absolute loyalty. Not we ask for absolute loyalty. We will receive it. If you want a negotiation, become a debater. Here, you are a soldier." The seeds of indoctrination were being set. Nassor had passed through the introducing sequence of the military's ethos. He was now broaching the training, the life of a soldier. And the benefits to choosing this path. His victims however no longer had a choice and snatched onto his every harsh word.

Roy glimpsed around with the slightest turn of his head, and noticed that other soldiers had begun to enter through a back entrance. There were twice as many than there had been ten minutes ago, each carrying a rifle at their sides. However, their absent-minded staring at a ceiling or window caused Roy to exhale a slight amount of his absorbed fear. They were not hostile or intrusive. So Roy turned his head further to the side and spoke inaudible words to air. He only hoped that Maes would hear him. "A distraction. Don't forget."

Roy interpreted Maes' shuffling as a nod and continued to look at Nassor as he delegated the recruits through the rewards of joining the military. "There are people to trust, to share a common unity with through every consequence," Nassor was nodding his head through some nostalgic experience – even the war veteran did not despise every subordinate he worked with - and Roy was conceding over the fact that the Major General was convincing, even to him a little.

But Roy had come to his decision to join the military and nothing would prevent that…even Nassor. He could not feign his identity for long, especially if Nassor overlooked the training of the new students at the military academy, and why the Major General was giving the address. The nearest military academy was in the West Area near the border of Creta, convenient for the State, he assumed. Roy had to stay; he couldn't leave the Hawkeye father and daughter to the hooves of the menace pony.

Roy was tempted to introduce himself, but he dismissed the idea immediately, knowing it was a rash concept.

Nassor however was engrossed in explaining the rigorous training regime of the new recruits, mentioning how it has had to be "adapted" due to Amestris' political unrest, despite being a dictatorship with a "united military". Nassor had no reason to divulge into the instability of the military, and focused on giving a false, hopeful promise to the military hopefuls. "You are to lead the military to success. Every endeavour for the future is decided by you." Words for a dreamer's cause. His aim is for everyone here to sign up, all in the name of stopping that military coup…I'm going to join the military… Roy wondered, feeling the repercussions of listening to Nassor too heavily. It was hypnotic.

Beside him Maes fidgeted. Only the pivoting of his ankle left and right, but Roy was oblivious and stared on. Roy was acutely aware of a light tap on the floor beside him but still he was lost in his mind, hooked to the bait which Nassor had thrown. Suddenly, a foot dug deep into his pinkie toe and he curled his lip to bite back a yelp, a reflex response. The pressure vanished but pressed harder onto his toe with an alien strength and Roy's eyes opened to reality. Maes lifted his foot away from the black-haired man, unaccustomed to physical pain since Roy saw the illogical inconvenience involved with becoming injured. His master would only demand three more essays and expect them to be of a first-class alchemist's standard due for that same evening. Roy felt his internal pride become more bruised for feeling so pernickety over a toe injury. It hurt. But he had snapped out of his trance.

"Shit…" he couldn't prevent himself from whispering. Maes grinned but failed to make a retort. He inclined his head forwards; Nassor had stopped speaking. And their fiasco had gone unnoticed.

Nassor looked down at the new recruits, and took out his gun from his holster and propped the weapon over his shoulder. He proceeded to march towards the back entrance, to which the soldiers guarding his path saluted brusquely to, all of them his subordinates. The gathered audience stared with admiration evident on their faces – Nassor had their absolute loyalty too. Roy was determined the eye possessed a cruel magic to it. He was relieved that science had made its breakthrough.

Roy had avoided Nassor. A First Lieutenant entered and began to utter about annual fees, the entry requirements, the sectors of speciality…the usual drone of a bored adult, and then the topic of scholarships was mentioned.

"There are numerous ways to earn a scholarship to the East Area Military Academy. Firstly, supreme physical ability which far exceed that of your competitors in the physical exams upon entrance to the academy, in which you will be assessed on your endurance, agility…The second method is through advanced skill in communications or engineering…and finally, through the State Certified Alchemy Programme."

Roy sat up in his seat while Maes dithered off into the recesses of his mind, having worked full-time to pay for his near future. That alongside the inheritance he received from his parents, his funds for the academy were paid for. He had to be prepared for future family-planning with Gracia after all.

"Alchemic research is at a peak in our nation, and those who qualify for our scholarships will gain access to monthly visits to our four operating alchemic laboratories in Central City. There will be an alchemist tutor to guide you through your training as well as the combat training mandatory for every candidate to the academy. Careers involve alchemic researcher, technician, engineer, tutor…and for the most talented, a State Alchemist certification."

Roy's attention peaked at the last two words. The two he had been waiting for. He had a query about the number of labs in the city. Berthold Hawkeye, when he scarcely spoke of the military, did so in a tone of disgust over the foul works of Number Five. It had taken Roy nearly three months to figure out that the old alchemist was actually referring to the laboratories in Central. To be able to visit them and enhance his alchemical skill as a State Alchemist…and that tangent made his query forgotten.

"Considering that two or three candidates receive a scholarship for the State Certified Alchemy Programme, opportunity to become a State Alchemist is rare. In the past fifteen years, the State Alchemist chosen to serve their country…only one has been selected from either academy."

"Basque Grand." Roy finished their sentence.

The tension did not stifle. And Roy could sense it, as though it was a presence. While a chorus of admiration circulated the room on Colonel Grand's achievements, Roy tapped the soles of his shoes onto the ground. This time Maes awoke from his trance. There was conspiracy lurking about.

Light refreshments were brought as the assembled newcomers fell into silence again. Enrolment forms were positioned delicately on the tables, and movement spurred into action like a blur. People began shifting this way and that, glad to be free from the solemn address of Nassor and the Lieutenant they would not remember the name of. That was a secret to promotion in the military – get yourself noticed.

Roy stayed where he was. Maes strolled away and brought him back an orange juice. "Why would you think I would like orange juice?" Roy muttered.

"A first lesson in friendship – likes and dislikes!" Maes took the orange juice from Roy. He sat down again, and when they both noticed it was them two at the back alone, his jovial tone faded. "How do you know Nassor?"

"Bad experience. Friend to the parents," Roy glanced down at his hand, wondering if Nassor was listening to every word Roy was saying, analysing his mannerisms. Nassor was a tactician who seeped into the military for his private benefit alone – victory had to be assured. Roy despised how he knew the hidden truth behind Nassor's façade.

"And what's happening?"

"Something." Suddenly, Roy heard the clomping of boots behind him. Precautious, he rose and walked over to the desk where the remaining enrolment forms lay untouched. Roy shoved himself into the crowd and knew that Maes was close behind. He pulled out a pen from his pocket, which he had miraculously remembered despite his rush to leave the Hawkeye Estate but an hour ago.

His name? Roy Mustang. His age and date of birth? He reluctantly scribbled down his age, seeing as the new term began in June, and he would turn eighteen in May. He would not have to lie. Despite his atrocious handwriting, he managed to fill in the details without a smudge. And at the corner of the page, under the sub-heading of "Scholarship Opportunities", he placed a circle around the State Certified Alchemy Programme, which had been conveniently shortened to S.C.A.P. He handed the form to a military official and would not look back. He had sealed his fate, and he would not take second chances…this time.

However, as he retraced his steps to find Maes, he bumped into someone. Hastily preparing an apology, Roy stuttered a "sorry" as he stared at Nassor, looming far above his personal lower-than-average height. Roy was close to despising the Major General, but Nassor had the ability to govern respect from everyone. Roy searched the crowd for those bobbling glasses, and sighed with relief that Maes was engaged in a hearty conversation about some recent obscure crime investigation. It was only him and Nassor.

"I did not expect to see you here, Roy Mustang." Nassor appeared to be genuinely surprised, his single functioning eye widening.

"Nor I you, Major General," his tone lulled the spitefulness which rested beneath. Roy wanted to end this conversation before he ended up punching the Major General; he had the very poise of his parents.

"Your father would be surprised," Nassor tutted quietly, as if reading Roy's mind. "I assume you have not seen them since your…incident."

Any topic except them, Roy pleaded. "Unfortunately not, sir." Roy would not mention that he was in an apprenticeship to an alchemist. Hell, Nassor most likely had contact with them! If they were to find out...Roy shivered, despising his parents even more.

"I am retiring from the academy at the end of this term…although if you are enrolling, I may consider another term," Nassor smiled, his teeth gleaming with a predator's cunning. This would end badly if Roy couldn't finish this soon. "Excuse me, but I have a meeting scheduled in fifteen minutes. There has been quite the unrest on our south-eastern border as you would know, and it does not bode well if the commanding officer is late!"

Roy held his breath until the clomping of Nassor's boots faded out of the back entrance. And as he started to weave his way back to Maes, fire exploded in the winter's night. Nassor's words proved true, a prophecy being answered as destiny inevitably unravelled. Unrest…it had to be Ishval.

The tale of an officer shooting a young Ishvalan girl was fading into legend amongst the gossiping military recruits, an event of last summer. There had been some skirmishes, a riot or two, but nothing drastic that would evoke panic in the people, especially in the East City, the greatest military campus with its roots closest to the desert land.

Pain can only be quelled for a period of time though. The Ishvalans wanted their retribution. Roy knew it. The smoke was rising as the initial explosion died away, and fires arose like a phoenix spreading destruction with its ember embrace. Pain building from the pain. And its solution…

Unspeakable silence answered the explosion's whine into the sky back in the room where Roy was standing. Maes was by his side in a heartbeat. "A freak accident?"

Why would the military gruel on about ability and loyalty to its new potential recruits? War. Despite being a fruitless cause which would inevitably lead to ruin, there would be those who served with absolute loyalty. These people gathered here. Military officials really were bastards for using them this way. As pawns.

"That was the cry of retaliation," Roy closed his eyes. "That was the cry for war."