I don't own Death Note or Fullmetal Alchemist
Slight warning here for violence and death, though if you know Fullmetal Alchemist you should expect that, even so, a warning in case the following may disturb you.
It's unpleasant but rather important to L's character arc and Kimblee's establishment as an antagonist.
Chapter 6
L watched through the scope, breath held, muscles tense. He watched them running, fleeing, weapons abandoned in favour of fleeing.
Ishvalan soldiers. Running away from the battle. But L couldn't blame them.
This wasn't war, it was slaughter. They weren't soldiers, they were civilians. Previously, they had been outgunned and outmanned by Amestrian forces. But now, with the inclusion of state alchemists into the fray, it was ridiculous. They didn't have a chance.
Kimblee had instructed L and Riza to set up position on a ridge overlooking an Ishvalan resistance hideout. Kimblee and Armstrong had attacked the building directly levelling walls and sending the hidden soldiers into disarray, before running straight into infantry fire.
Those who survived the explosion and subsequent gun fire, were picked off by L and Riza's sniper fire.
L spotted another figure moving from the rubble. An Ishvalan. The white hair and red eyes was a dead giveaway with the typical traits of the Ishvalans, the lack of blue uniform was another. L raised the scope to his eye.
He easily pinpointed the soldier . . . but L noticed something. The supposed soldier wasn't carrying a firearm in his arms, he wasn't sprinting with the hardened agility and endurance of the other Ishvalan soldiers, he was stumbling and tripping, hiding from sight of Kimblee and his men.
It wasn't until on a second glance that L realised it.
That wasn't a weapon in his arms, it was a child. And that wasn't a soldier, it was a mother. Her terrified expression clear to him through the magnifying scope. L froze, crosshairs pointed at her head. He gulped silently and pushed the crosshairs to the left.
"L?" Riza called, and he noticed she was looking over at him, noticing his abnormally frozen posture. "Is something wrong? Do you see another one?"
L knew that if he told Riza about the mother, she'd take the shot. Because she was loyal to Amestris, and this was the command of Furher Bradley.
But L wouldn't do it.
He had already taken the lives of numerous Ishvalans, because they fought back, they attacked with stolen rifles and native weapons. L had almost died when an ambush had attacked a convoy. L had been casually discussing the best quality coffee in Amestris with another soldier when in a flash and a crack he was suddenly staring at a bullet hole in the man's forehead, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide.
He accepted that. This was war and death and war went hand in hand like lovers.
L could be ruthless. He had been ruthless. Using death row inmates to bait Kira. It wasn't kind, it wasn't humane. But he had done it.
But this, he couldn't do it. Killing an innocent mother whose only crime was being on the wrong side of the border at birth. It wasn't fair.
"No, nothing's wrong. I was just checking for anymore soldiers. Tell Kimblee its all clear." L was thankful for his natural poker face and monotone, and Riza nodded, falsely accepting his answer in a show of trust between comrades.
L glanced back through the corner of his eyes as Riza turned and picked up the walkie-talkie. Kimblee and his firing squad had noted the lack of civilians and stopped their assault, likely listening to the all-clear Riza gave.
He bit his lip as he watched the Ishvalan woman hide behind a collapsed wall, panting and near-tears. He mentally consoled himself that this was the best he could do for her.
L was brought from his thoughts as Riza flicked the switch for the wallow-talkie and nodded to him. They stood from their prone positions and slung their rifles over their backs, L brushed off the dust that dust that gathered on his torso, before shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Let's go." Riza nodded and led the way down from their elevated position and towards Kimblee.
L spotted Armstrong standing to the side, his heavy arms shaking as he schooled his features into calmness. His eyes were moist but he hadn't let any tears out, his posture spoke deeply of contained regret, L wouldn't express it but he felt similarly.
Kimblee smiled as they approached. "Well done you two that was good shooting you did up there." Kimblee nodded in the direction of their hidden transport. "Let's get going."
They followed behind in formation as Kimblee strode on his heel and confidently strode away.
L held his breath as Kimblee paused.
"Although. . ." He turned as pressed his palms to the floor, facing the ruined base. L froze as the alchemical formula on Kimblee's palms activated. The direction Kimblee faced and the mad grin on his face gave L a good idea what he was aiming at.
L watched as the ground split apart, shattering under his devastating alchemy. Ethereal red light flooded through the cracks, accompanied by crimson bolts of lightning, twisting unnaturally through the forming a miniature yet devastating fissure.
He turned away, unable to watch the inevitable.
L heard the violent explosion and the following scream of terror.
Silence.
Kimblee smirked and met L's eyes.
"Looks like you missed one."
L couldn't repress his visible shiver as Kimblee walked away.
Ishval
Something was wrong.
He felt it in his bones, crawling up his spine into his mind.
L watched through the scope of his rifle, staring at the Ishvalans hiding behind cover, ducking down when Amestrian soldiers fired and returning volleys were exchanged.
L had noticed something with the Ishvalans. They hadn't fought war like this, on such scale with such powerful technology. Even now he could hear deafening artillery fire erupting in the distance.
Due to the Ishvalan's inexperience with their pilfered weaponry they were forced to employ guerrilla tactics, ambushes and night raids on their supplies. They fought tooth and nail, often charging straight into the line of fire if only to make a last stand, a bloody relay passed from corpse to corpse.
Ordinarily, this battle would be over by now, Amestrian soldiers would outnumber the scattered Ishvalan militia and they'd be defeated, the occasional resistance crushed with the brute power State Alchemists brought to the table.
But they weren't on the offensive, completely the opposite. They rarely stood to take a shot at Amestrian soldiers, instead pointing the barrel over their cover and frantically pulling the trigger until they ran out.
L realised they were purposefully dragging the conflict out. Content with the desperate stalemate they had achieved, neither risking an advance yet preventing Amestrian soldiers pushing forwards.
Why exactly, L didn't know, but he has his suspicions.
It wasn't until he heard the footsteps that he realised their plan.
He whirled in place, turning to meet the intruder. L took a second to confirm their Ishvalan features before dropping his rifle and reaching for his standard issue pistol in its holster.
But by then the infiltrator was upon him, the knife he held reflecting the bright sunlight streaming into the darkly lit room L had taken refuge in.
L's pistol was in his hand as the attacker reached him, going low as he reached his arms out.
The small handgun was knocked from his grasp as the wind was knocked out of him, sent skittering across the rough stone floor, clattering and making a veritable racket.
L's skull impacted on the sill of the window he had previously leaned on as the attacker pushed the tackle forwards. Disoriented and disarmed, L weakly kicked and lashed out, each solid yet dazed hit impacting as the attacker grunted in pain.
The Ishvalan tried to push his knife down as L captured the offending wrist, desperately holding the knife at arm's reach. The Ishvalans own body weight holding him down and gravity pushed the knife in the attackers favour, slowly lowering until L's elbow was bent.
A bead of sweat rolled down his face as the Ishvalan pressed the advantage, the knife gently resting on his neck. He could feel the honed, sharpness of knife, the wielder must have spent many hours at grindstone for such an edge.
The knife dipped and L released a strangled gasp as the knife's sharp blade traced a red line across his throat, blood beginning to seep from the superficial wound.
L panicked and desperately pushed back, the knife inched back but it was already too late.
L cursed mentally. At least getting gutted in combat was better that dying of a heart attack, if only slightly.
A crack and a flash of light filled the air. The grip on the knife loosened and the Ishvalan slumped forwards over L, eyes lifeless, a smoking hole in the side of his head. The corpse's head lolled to the side, devoid of the furious life that so nearly claimed his own.
Already, blood leaked profusely from the bullet wound, staining L's previously clean uniform with blood.
L froze. Blood pumping in his ears and heart beating like a drum. He ripped the knife's handle from the bodies' still warm fingers, pushing the limp body from his trapped frame, pulling himself into a sitting position as he glanced to his saviour at last.
Riza stood at the door way, pistol clenched in her hand, knuckles turned white around the grip, the barrel releasing whips of smoke. L noticed her already bloodstained uniform from across the room. He deduced that she must have already faced a similar attacker, though obviously one less skilled than the Ishvalan who got the drop on him, as she wasn't sporting any visible bruises and her uniform was just as well kept as before, aside from the aforementioned blood splatters.
Riza's eyes were wide with panic before relief at seeing his moving form. She sighed and bent down to pick up his dropped handgun and tossed it to him, he deftly caught it and held it between finger and thumb as he slid it back into its holster.
Quickly regaining his composure, L leaned against the wall. "Thank you, Riza. I didn't think I'd be getting out of that one."
Riza eyed the prone corpse warily, as if she expected it to jump up and attack her. "Think nothing of it, I know you would do the same for me."
They both stared down at L's would-be killer, blood pooling around his cooling corpse. L grimaced. He stepped forward and turned the body on to its back, horrified at what he found.
The Ishvalan was young, 17 at the oldest, a perpetual look of fear engraved into his features, his previously snow white hair turning a gruesome shade of red as his fatal wound leaked.
L shook as he realised the situation, and if the look of disgust on her face was any indication, Riza did too.
"My god . . . he's just a child and I-"
L lowered his gaze to the floor as he picked his discarded rifle up and glanced towards the bloodstained knife still clutched tightly in his hand.
In was an ugly blade, an uneven edge swerved like a wave, the flat of the blade marred with deep scratches that the users' blood had seeped into.
L felt sick as he pulled the sheath from the body, tying it to his belt and sheathing the knife, turning to Riza who looked ready to throw up but contained herself.
"Let's go, they should be done by now." He nodded in the soldiers' direction, the sounds of their gunfire had ceased at some point in his struggle. Riza nodded too, regaining her stony expression.
As they navigated the buildings, descending down stairways to regroup, L thought about the Ishvalans' plan of attack.
Distract the main infantry with blind gunfire in a deadly stalemate while other Ishvalans snuck around the conflict and killed their supporting snipers, namely L and Riza. From there, L realised, they would be in prime position to steal the long-ranged rifle from his by then, cold, dead hands, and begin firing on Amestrian soldiers.
Suddenly surrounded and unaided by sniper support, the Amestrian forces would quickly be overwhelmed, leaving their weaponry for the taking.
To be fair, it was a good plan. It might have worked if it hadn't been for the assassin after Riza being detected too early, from there warning her of a similar assassin wrestling L to the floor at that moment, helpless as Riza put a bullet in his skull.
L thought about the Ishvalan mother Kimblee killed.
He thought about the young teen dead on the second floor of a random building.
L shivered again. This war really was just a meaningless slaughter.
Ishval
To L's relief, Hughes and Roy were reassigned to Kimblee's unit.
Not that L disliked Riza. He could respect the way she took her job seriously, and she was rather intelligent as well as being as good if not better with a rifle than L was.
But between Kimblee's disturbing delight in combat and Riza's stone faced, serious attitude, L felt he needed a break.
Armstrong had been rather silent, distraught at working under a man as brutal as Kimblee. He hadn't really interacted with L all that much after their first meeting, so L wasn't 100% sure what to think of the man.
Hughes and Roy weren't smiling like they used to, L doubted they ever would again. He didn't blame them, Ishval was horrible place to be now, and any positivity about the situation had evaporated under the overbearing inferno of this massacre:
It made L sick.
Hughes smile was strained and more of a poorly hidden grimace than anything, while Roy expressed more genuine joy at seeing Riza. Their past, if they had any together, was unknown to L.
He didn't pry though. He felt like an intruder between them enough as it was.
Soon enough they were back on the battlefield.
Riza, Hughes, Roy, Armstrong and L were cramped into a small second floor building. Hidden from the enemy and awaiting the radio in the middle of the room to give the order.
L stared out the holes in the walls with binoculars, carefully watching for enemies as Riza did the same on the other side of the room. Hughes sat against a wall, nervously fiddling with his push knives and conversing with Roy.
Roy attempted to keep the group calm as he spoke quietly to the distressed Armstrong about his alchemy, temporarily revitalising the man as he went on about Armstrong family this and Armstrong family that.
L felt rather calm, the winds calm and the early morning temperature somewhere between cool and warm as the sun rose slowly on the horizon.
Perhaps that should have been the first sign that this wouldn't go well. The next would be Riza's yell, immediately eroding the calm atmosphere as it reverberated through the small space.
"Incoming!"
The occupants of the room heard the booming in the distance as they shot into action, hurling themselves from the second floor, hitting the surrounding roofs or safely slowing their fall.
Whether it was his previous concentration, being lulled in a false security, or just plain bad luck, L felt it all happen in seconds.
He was too slow.
His fellow soldiers had already escaped as the wall caved in.
Time seemed to slow and L watched in sudden realisation as the artillery shell burst impacted against the weakened wall, erupting into a wave of flame that sped towards L.
His world was consumed by light.
End
Yup. Cliffhanger because I can.
Anyway, thanks for your reviews so far, this chapter was intentionally lacking in dialogue and instead was more of about the horrors L experiences.
Quackerq123: Yeah, I'm not planning on it but remind me if I stray from the path.
Wildfiredreams: Oops! My bad, though I've corrected Riza's eye colour in the previous chapter after I read your review. Thanks for that, I completely forgot.
Gintama2000: Thank you! I'm glad you think so. I'm currently doing about 2,500 words per chapter so I can get them done quicker.
SamMason666: As above, 2,500 a chapter.