Secret Hideout (Aurelius, Surelius, Hild)

[Guest]

Vanity, the beautiful homunculus, returned to find her fling had disappeared. Greed, the stubborn bastard had left once again. Her teeth grit tightly together as she feels rage boiling within her. Why was it so easy for him to make her mad? She wanted the glory, the image, the fame, but he was able to make her feel so low and useless.

The damp towel was clenched tightly her in hand, as she walks back into the kitchen area. It wasn’t much, but it did have a sink with running water. Her hands grab hold of the rim of the sink as she stands looking down into the drain. The water trickles from the wrinkled dish towel as it soaks in the bottom of the metal base.

“I, I love you greed.” She confesses to herself once more.

It was almost time for the offering to begin, but she didn’t care. At this point Aurelius would go down the stairs into the cold, dark dungeon area where they awaiting. Surelius had done his job, that part was known. However, would it really be that easy to create a philosopher stone? Vanity brings her fingers to her lips, touching them. That’s where hers lies, the stone that gave her life and power unlike anything else.

Screams of terror rang into her ear from the men below, and it was happening. Blood would be gushing over the ground, while Aurelius got what he wanted. Her brother, the man of the hour, was the most powerful person in the world and she was aligned with him. This was what she want: FAME, GLORY, POWER.

Slowly, step by step she took, inching closer to the stairs where the sacrifice took place. Both arms were folded across her chest as she patients awaits the next move.

Greed was still in the back of her mind, and would remain there until she saw him again. What was he doing? Was he okay? He had better not die, or else she'd kill him herself.

“It won’t be long...” Her voice trails off as she hears footsteps at the bottom of the stairs begin to ascend.


(Honestly, I'm confused with what's happening with Aurelius and Surelius... ._. sorry...)

[Shula Brighton]

What was so wrong with all of this that it just made people lose their minds in the fray? Was it just the basest of instincts dominating their will to survive no matter what? That single man that had engaged Spade and killed, no, slaughtered, so many of their friends... What drove him to it? Was he some sort of superhuman to possess that kind of strength? Was it just pure, unadulterated homicidal rage? Hate? Merely following orders? So little of this made sense to her... She could see the actions but not understand the emotions; in that old wooden box she'd been housed in all her life, so much information had been limited to her, her mother not wanting the young, sick child to get sicker from being upset by horrible things. Until she lost her best friend, death had been an alien thing to her; seeing the waves of life being lost to the night had been inconceivable.

Shula looked down at the unconscious pilot, her hand moving up to grip her aching shoulder as she tried to rotate it within the cuff, then hissed as her nerves screamed and begged for the attempted motion to halt in its tracks. Even through her coats she could feel the dip between her shoulder and arm... Oh, Hell's bells... What NEXT?! He was young... He couldn't have been much older than her own brother. White hair, skin the colour of desert clay, and what she could only assume were eyes that were red as the fire and blood of Ishvalla himself. Aaron... Where are you? Slowly she knelt down, looking him over. He was covered in blood, and his chest looked to be bleeding badly. She didn't dare try to dress his wounds herself as her hand moved to the side of Toss' throat and felt for a pulse; Reila had been pretty set to killing him and she wasn't a medical expert at all, but the medic radioed back that he was on his way. Something did catch her eye, though, and confused her greatly; she hoped the young man would live, if only to tell her what it meant. A tattoo. A purpleish, stylized dragon biting its tail decorated the top of the pilot's left hand. Shula liked tattoos, but what struck her as odd was that she'd seen this tattoo before. It's the same as Akiha's... When she came to take me to Aerugo, she had this exact tattoo, on the back of her shoulder! But she doesn't work for RIOTE, or Drachma... So what could it mean?

A metallic clatter caught her attention as she stood back up, molten gold eyes locking onto her as Reila approached. ""You are saying that you would like to take responsibility for a man that can kill you with a flick of his wrist? Do you understand fully what you are saying? They will kill you, but only after crushing everything that you had ever loved. I will take him." Shula flinched slightly as she was addressed, Reila's voice hard and cold and completely contrasting the fire that burned in her eyes. She was right; Shula didn't know the full rammifications of taking a prisoner who could overpower them. If they had tried to take that man prisoner, he'd have easily killed htem all when he woke up. But This pilot... She remained quiet even though she only had more and more questions. Reila was clearly more than capable of defeating this man, so why was she so afraid of letting him live? And they who? They, RIOTE? Drachma? The army of dryer gnomes who were fed up with only stealing everybody's left socks? Red eyes cast downward, her hand resuming its grip on the aching limb, her own words painfully quiet and barely audible. "...Yes, Ma'am."

"Brighton! Got here as fast as we could!" Shula turned around, finally smiling a little to see the man it belonged to. Wagner was much older than Spade, easily pressing into his late 40's, but he was just as fast and crafty as he'd always been. The tall, broad-chested man ran up the street to the crash, two younger and heavily armed assistants at his side that he'd been training up to leave at South with her. "Got here as fast as we could, Kid." The grizzled man grinned broadly at her, his face seeming off balance as it lacked its usual Esparian cigar. The medical kit dropped to the ground and popped open almost instantly, a large hand plopping down onto Shula's head and mussing her bangs affectionately before he looked around, surveying the scene. Briggs' ship was a wreck. A smaller plane was a wreck. Ito looked like shit. Briggs' General was a wreck. There was a young man on the ground who was equally wrecked. And the pipsqueak that got shoved into some Brigadier General's clothes didn't look too great, either. Well, at least he'd be busy. Shula smiled faintly and let out a small sigh.

"So damn happy to see you, Wagner. That pilot, don't let him bleed to death. And General Tsukino is hurt. Go help them, they're top-" Wagner grunted, then looked at his two helpers. "I'm on it already. YOU TWO! Stitch, patch and wrap, NOW!" The two younger medics nodded, one immediately moving to tend Toss as the other approached Dai and Reila. Wagner looked down at Shula, noting her left arm being clutched to her side. "Lemme see it, Kid. Off with the coats; promise I'll be quick." She bit her lip but obediently moved her right hand to start unbuttoning the heavy coats and started to slide free from them with a wince, knowing better than to argue with the medic or even try to order him to do anything other than what he'd set himself to. he frowned seeing the unnatural dip where it had dislocated. In a hospital, people were usually put under to have arms and legs popped back into socket; in a medical tent, local anesthesia and a few good shots of whiskey. Right here right now? Distraction was the best he could offer. Shula gasped and nearly yelped as the frozen night air cut through her thin shirt. "OH HOLYFUCKNGUGGETSIT'SCOLD!!"

Wagner moved in front of the small woman, thick fingers quickly assessing the damage. Nothing broken, and no tears to the skin, though he could feel how hot and swollen it was easily, knowing that her arm was going to be a glorious bruise for a while. "Spade and Schiwatas are both on top of that building," she continued, hissing out her breath through her teeth as her eyes squeezed shut. The poking. Needed. To STOP. "Acra hit his head a few times, and it's bleeding... Spade's been shot. Again." A thick black eyebrow raised, the man thinking now would be a great time for scotch. Spade would probably agree that it was scotch o'clock. Shu's right hand gripped the front of the medic's coat, trying to take deep breaths. "I'll deal with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum soon as we're done down here. ...You're lucky so far, Kid. I still think Spade shoulda left you on the ship, though. This is no place for a little girl." Wagner placed one hand on top of her shoulder as the other meaty hand wrapped around her thin arm, his fingers almost reaching around it. How many times had he told her she needed to gain weight? As often as she had been throwing up at Central he was convinced for a long time that she was bulemic. "Or back in South building sandcastles. One of these days I'll prove you're only thirteen and get you out of that General's uniform and back home to your parents."

Burning red eyes snapped open, locking angrily onto worn brown ones. Ah, THAT was what he was after. Not wasting a second of that precious anger, Wagner gave Shula's left arm a sudden, forceful jerk down and to the front, accompanied by a hard pop. He hadn't given her a countdown. Hadn't told her when to anticipate it to brace herself for it. Hadn't given her a chance to be afraid of the tremendous pain she was about to feel and force her body to grow too tense and do more damnage when the joint was fixed. Wagner simply did it. The little woman gasped and suddenly let out a loud, pain-filled scream rising up, the sound far bigger than the girl it ripped from. A few deep, shuddering breaths followed, dizziness, and a small wave of feeling ill passed before she finally let go of the older man's coat. His hand brushed her cheek with a quiet, paternal care before the bent down to pick his supplies back up. "I don't have a sling to put your arm in, so until we get back to the ship and out of this shithole, try not to use your arm. I'm gonna head up to go patch Spade." Wagner ran around to the side of the building, further from the street than they'd shot up it from and left his two trainees to try to tend to the head of Briggs. There was a fire escape around the back, and the large an charged upward to lend his assistance as best he could.

The world spun for a long moment as Shula tried to swallow down the pain, really wishing she knew Raistlin's Pain-Be-Gone trick he'd used on her. Or at least had a bottle of tequila to drown the pain and warm her up again since the warmth Acra had given her was wearing off, especially as she struggled to get her coats back on and rebuttoned. Ugh.... She just wanted to go lie down. And barf. And wake up not here. Not particularly in that order. She glanced back to Reila and Dai, somewhat dazed, her eyes glazed slightly from the nerves in her shoulder screaming. Acra was still up with Spade, and hopefully they were both safe, especially now that the medic would be tending to them. She wondered if Acra would be seen as well enough to come down and resume being her bodyguard. His head was bleeding and he seemed pretty out of it... Part of her wondered if he'd even fully understood what she'd said when she vanished from the roof to come help down here. Should she stay put? Go back up the building and rejoin Acra and Spade? It was so weird not having orders... Her men. She needed to help her men. She was about to press the radio to see where the nearest bunch were as she scanned the block around her.

Fire. Rubble. Bodies. And then her breath held. Down the street, away from the Kremlin's disaster, on the corner of an alleyway. White hair. Brown skin. Modified Amestrian uniform. Oh sweet Ishvalla... "...Aaron?" Shula took a few steps forward, her eyes zeroing in on her brother. That had to be him! Tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes as she began to walk away from the wreckage. Away from the medics, the pilot, and Reila. Away from the safety that the top of that building would bring with Spade and Acra. She began to run through the snow, skidding here and there but never once slowing, even as she dodged, ducked and climbed over things. Aaron was standing there, his gun in hand as he seemed to scan from side to side. He hadn't spotted her yet, but things were chaotic, to say the least. "Aaron!!" The Ishvallan seemed to take a step back into the alley, but looked at her. He saw her, she knew he did! HE WAS ALIVE!! Shouting caught her attention as enraged Drachman soldiers sprang from the darkness of a side street, charging after her and forced her to skid to a stop. She only had a few goes and wouldn't kill them. But they wouldn't kill her, either. Both soldiers froze, aiming at her, barking at her in Drachman. She could only assume they were telling her to drop her pistol and surrender to them as a prisoner. A quick, sneaking glance. Aaron was still there, hiding in the shadows, waiting for her. Was he waiting to get a better shot? The large soldier clicked his gun for emphasis, yelling at her again. Surrender. Here. Now. Be spared for now. Fat chance. Slowly Shula's hands raised as though in surrender when the backs of her hands suddenly clashed against each other on the way up. A spark was brought to life and fed hungrily on the night air, quickly turning from a spark to a candle's flame and then to a flaming wall, pushing the soldiers back and causing them to cry out as their guns were melted from their hands. Uniforms and facial hair singed. And then finally they ran, trying to escape the inferno that threatened to consume their souls. Shula wasted no time lingering to relish in her own small victory, needing nobody to save her or pat her on the head as she resumed running down the street toward that alley she'd seen Aaron standing in.

He was gone... Shit! Had he gone further into it? Panting, Shula nearly slipped and yelped as she skidded into the side of the building to help stop her from sliding down the ice. She stepped into the alley and saw the tail of Aaron's coat rounding the corner at the end of it. "Brother, WAIT! Wait for me!" She ran faster, struggling to keep up with the taller man's wide gait. Why hadn't he stopped?! How could he have NOT heard her? He was just up ahead, she could hear his footfalls! She turned again, confused as she saw her beloved brother pause long enough to stop and glance over his shoulder at her before running further through the maze-like alleys between the buildings of Moscow. "This way. His voice. She'd heard it. It was so strange, though, like he'd whispered it into her ear, like when they were children and huddled together under a blanket with a flashlight. But how could he have whispered when he was easily ten feet in front of her...? Nevermind that, Bright Eyes! Just do what he says! "Brother, SLOW DOWN! I can't keep up with you!!" The alley suddenly ended, emptying into another section of Moscow, Shula now more than a little lost, and very, very confused. Aaron had vanished. HOW?! Was he a fucking ninja? "AARO-"

He'd led her to... Her own men from South. How the hell did HE know where they were? And A troop of Xingese. Well at least she was among friends. Something crackled over the Xingese radios. One voice. Then female voices. What.... And then suddenly the xingese troops raised their guns, aiming them at her men from South. HER men. What. The. SHIT. WAS GOING ON?! There was some hesitation amidst the confusion, and her own men started to back off, some raising their own weapons in defense, calling out for answers and orders. "STOP!!" Shula ran forward, her brain not having time to think about where Aaron had gone to, or why their allies were aiming at them. She just knew she had to stop them before things got worse. Her hands moved together of their own will, a wall of fire pushing the two troops apart as she closed in on them, causing both parties to step back. The fire came out a bit more forcefully than she intended as it pushed out and up the brick of the building they all stood behind, scorching the bricks and brightening the night sky as the pillar rose high above the biulding. At least now she had their undivided attention. "Commander! Your orders?!" More confused murmuring followed from the Xingese. Most of the soliders looked to the small woman running toward them with all the speed she could muster. They seemed to be discussing it for a moment. "Whatever you're all doing, STOP! WE'RE ALLIES!"

Most of the guns lowered on both sides. One clicked. A Xingese gun fired into the night, halfhazardly aiming for an Amestrian heart. The group of soliders all fell silent, realizing the gun had missed, it's barrel being pushed high up by an angry Ishvallan who had run directly into the line of fire. Adrenaline pumped through her tiny body as she panted, white hair sticking to her face from sweat and the bloody streaks left by her gloves. Her ears were ringing from the gunshot in her ears, and the heat from the gun burned against her cheeks. Breath shuddered in and out of her body raggedly. "Do NOT fire on my men, she growled slowly, the man holding the gun looking rather terrified both of her and the consequences of his actions. "Someone wanna tell me what the fuxk's going on?!"

"Brigadier General," the CO of the Xingese squad said, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "The Emperor gave orders to attack the Amestrian soldiers... He didn't say why! Just... That we were enemies now." Shula looked to the other Xingese, and then to her own men, then back to the Xingese. "But then the Emperor's brother just sent orders saying not to..." She took a step back, eyes narrowing; her coworkers and friends had never seen her so serious on anything before, nor had they ever seen her angry like this.

"If Spade said not to fire on us, then do NOT fire on us. Screw whatever Ace said. If he wants to dissolve our alliance, that's up to him and Spade, but until I see that on fucking PAPER? No." Her body was beginning to shake, that ill feeling returning to her as adrenaline began to fade, her body screaming from using her injured arm to force the gun up. Burning eyes looked to each of them, making it quite clear she was not bluffing. "Do NOT fire on my men. Even if those are your correct orders, DON'T. EVEN. TRY IT." Hackles were raised and she seemed almost feral. But she'd had enough. Enough of watching her friends die for no reason. Enough heartache and death. Enough knowing that she'd have to apologize to so many families about their loved ones not coming home. Enough of staying out of the range of fire in order to save her own hide and leaving people who called her name to die as a sacrifice. She'd. Had. ENOUGH. "...Because Ishvalla help me, if you DO fire on them... I will melt your guns and ammo into soup." She made no comment of the people holding said weapons that would be soupified, but it was very possible that they would become dumplings from the fire.

"Ah... Un..UNDERSTOOD!"

Shula let out a heavy, tired breath as she turned around, once again gripping her aching body as it screamed for relief, the edges of her vision starting to darken and pop with small specks of light. Not now. Later. She just had to get through right now. The Xingese quieted down, the CO radioing back, trying to not sound terrified as he asked anyone above him for correct orders. Fire, don't fire, do a dance, ANYTHING. Shula stepped to the brick wall and leaned heavily against it, trying to swallow the nausea that was rising upward in her body as she finally had a moment to look around. "If anyone's hurt, call our coordinates for the medic. Right now we're going to sit tight and take five until this clusterfuck gets sorted." The Amestrian soldiers looked at their commander uncertainly, still rather shocked about the tone she'd taken and that she'd charged oncoming fire. Finally tension gave way to nervous amusement, teasing that she never could seem to stick to the way things were supposed to be done; what came of being Spade's trainee, they all supposed. Noises were blurring, blocked by a high-pitched wailing in her ears. Her head was throbbing. Her body was aching. She felt ready to barf. And she was seeing stars. Oh Lord could this night just end? Shula leaned more against the wall as though trying to hold it up, not realizing she was pressing her radio button. "Aaron.... where did you GO?"

[Guest]

Mmm.... That was a lot of blood... wasn't it? Turning her blue eyes down towards the warming snow, she was aware that the large bear she had seen outside was now in the store, sniffing his way about, ”Now see, Doctor, THAT is the smell of pokhot! So do not try and fool me like that again. Wh..what? What was he... No. Hold on a moment. She knew that voice. Her brows furrowed and she peered at the bear closer than before, her brows furrowing in thought. The room spun a little. Ok. Thinking that hard was bad. That was certainly not a good sign in how she was faring. The doctors reaction to her friends statement was a point of amusement, the corner of her mouth tilting up ever so slightly as she paused then at the name. "Viktor...." Viktor? She had worked alongside a Viktor before.... And his voice did sound familiar. Possibility of them being the same person? Medium to high she had to judge. So she considered the bear once more, trying to picture the burly soldier but only succeeding in fuzzying up her mind. Bugger.

"S...State Alchemist... Apos Rajan... Central. D-deal with Vi... first."

To that she did snap to attention, her head turning with a sudden sharpness that hardly seemed likely given her current condition. She could focus on that fact. She started to open her mouth to retort, but.... Her arm throbbed painfully and she winced despite herself. Bloody hell.... Turning her gaze towards the ground, she knew he was right. She'd bleed out faster than expected if she didn't get treated. Vi.... Leaning a bit more against the counter, she pondered the use of such a nickname from him. Vi... Time was short so nicknames were good. It was just... unexpected. Yet she didn't mind. In reality it kind of made her smirk a little bit. Here she was in an unfamiliar country with unfamiliar people, and already nicknames were being used. Normally she'd prefer for someone to just call her Captain if they wanted to shorten names, but for him? She was oddly ok with it.

”Ee chego eemeem zdec, pocle etogo?” It was then she realized that the bear was now in front of her, sniffing her carefully to which she merely observed him as cooly as possible. She allowed him to do so since it wasn't like she could do anything else except sit there and try to ignore the pain. Besides, what did a sniff hurt? ”A Cretan? Interyesno. I did not expect to run into one of you here.” Now she managed a chuckle, drawing a sharp intake of breath as the movement had caused her arm to shift and thus throb painfully. Ass! "If you are Viktor Stalin...then I certainly didn't expect to see you either..." The sentences didn't stay together smoothly, halting as she took her time lest she overexert herself even with this. Voices... Swimming light and dark, snow... a wall... She had to close her eyes for a moment as the room swam in a morph of colors, light and darkness. "...jes' get her outta the way. She's bleedin', I'm only in shock. I can last longer without treatment." Apos.... Her pulse was checked. The doctor. Yes. Conscious. She could stay that. She had to stay that. ”Ne pospyeshiit, tolko ya ne priinyal bui cliishkom dliinoi c iim. Ona cmogla proitii vnye lyubuyu miinutu zdec.” The doctor was closer now. "Ya znayu, Viktor." All these languages....

"Sorry, this might hurt a bit. Gotta check for..." There we go. Something she understood. It was all beginning to blend together in a big language soup, tilting her head back to rest against the counter behind her. Gritting her teeth, Vivian managed not to gasp in pain at the careful touch, her eyes closed in concentration. She refused to show the pain. "The hell happened hun?" "A black panther." She mumbled, falling quiet as bandages were skillfully wrapped about her wound. She had to give this doctor credit, she really did know what she was doing. As soon as she had started, she was done, opening her eyes to look at the job that had been done. "You'll probably need a blood transfusion, but you're ok for now. That'll hold you up." "I can hold out until then I think. Thank you Dr. Nikita."

Now that she was out of immediate danger, her blue eyes fell to Apos who was leaning there in pain against the wall, a look of concern crossing her face. He could very well die here, he was clearly suffering, yet he too refused to reveal all that he must be feeling. She could see the mirror of her own mask there in him and it struck home for her. Cora was giving orders to Viktor and explaining the situation, nodding very slightly as she could feel a tingling in her arms. It was.... very strange. You don't normally get a sense of your arm putting itself back together, and by god it tingled almost to the point of pain. It was an indescribable feeling, and well... she was honestly trying to not focus on it. Alkahestry... A sister of sorts to alchemy yet so different. Primarily to heal. Dietrich would like it. She thought to herself, recalling how her boss had expressed his belief that alchemy should be primarily used to aid the greater good. Her eyes closed again as the warmth flowed through her battered arm.

Dietrich.... She had to talk to him once they were out of the woods. She had to. She couldn't stand about at his side and pretend nothing was bothering her forever. Could she still carry out her duty to him knowing what she did? No... No she... She had to be sure before she carried out any sort of rash action. She had the job of her dreams right now, but.... but was it really? It wasn't like such events were uncommon in the histories of noble or royal families. Betrayal had happened before, murder, civil war... So why... Slowly her sapphire eyes opened and she stared up at the ceiling, the tingling at the edges of her mind. She had never been a factor in those previous events. Thats why this bothered her so. Loyal to her country, or loyal to her duties? Loyal to her belief's, or loyal to what she currently had? Only once before had she felt such a sense of division, and the sudden chill she felt was all she needed as a reminder to that outcome.

"Vivian," At her name, her attention was drawn to the doctor, her thoughts abandoned for the moment, "if you could just keep talking to him, help keep him calm and aware, that'd be great. I'll get you some pain killers once I'm done, ok?" Nodding once, she looked to her Amestrian companion that was spread out in the snow with his feet elevated, trying to think of the words to say. Did she speak to him as one soldier to another? As one alchemist to another? As a lady would to a man? Or... Heh...Or just as Vivian to Apos? Licking her lips, she spoke, "Apos? What are your plans after the war?" She didn't know why she started there of all places, but the words were already out. Perhaps it was because she was so unsure of what she herself would do.

[Guest]

The fox, the fox, THE FOX WAS FUCKING HERE. The extremely tall man strides were filled with purpose, his coat billowing out behind him from the speed at which he had paced himself. The two female lackey's of his hand to almost run at points to keep up with him. What to do, what to do, what to do when he saw the fox? Ohhhh he could practically skip he was so excited! No no, he could contain it. He had to save it, savor it. For so few did wondrous days like this come along, even with all the toys bound up and writhing in his basement! They weren't.... they weren't the saaaaaaame. They weren't Itos. They were pawns. They were distractions. They were.... appetizers. Here, here he had the main course! But he was getting impatient. So VERY impatient. "Do you have those coordinates yet?" He practically snarled the woods, suddenly turning his head as if to look back to the woman on his right, but his eyepatch was all that glared at her.

Oh good, she remained cool and collected. So many fell to fucking pieces and st-st-stammered their w-w-w-words while trembling like fucking mice. "Almost sir. He's on the move. He's-" She fell quiet and placed a finger to her ear, listening to whoever was on the other end. "Got him. His king and the Royal Guards are engaging enemies. Orders sir?"

Takatori stopped on a dime, though his two guards fumbled at the suddenness of it before coming to a stop themselves. He was staring at her as if she were the stupidest fucking cunt in the world. "We crash the goddamn party, what the fuck else? MOVE." The word boomed across their empty street as he received the streets of their destination, holding a hand out for his grenade launcher. A grin began to slowly spread across his features as he felt the weight in his hand, bending his arm as he somehow managed to increase the already fast pace they had been walking at. Not far, not far at all to the dance. The lovely fucking dance. But what poor taste for the major players weren't there yet! Himself, and his weapons of course! Oh, and his mob he supposed. They were also rather important. They could have their fun too while he'd be... busy. Hehehehe.... Ohhh, he just KNEW what little Elastor would do too! A chuckle rumbled like thunder in his throat as they made their way through the streets to this delightful party all for him.

Gunfire and smoke greeted the trio (or group if you count his men hiding all about everywhere), the tall eye-patched man peered around a corner, standing rather casually amidst the fight. AH-HA! A smirk appeared on his lips as he positioned the grenade launcher and fired, an explosion separating the fox (Elastor) from his hole (Dietrich). SHHHHHHHIIIIIEXPLOSIONBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! Handing off the grenade launcher, he stepped out from the corner and strode forward a few steps before coming to a stop with his wicked grin plastered across his face. My god, it was like having an orgy with five ladies! FUCK THEM ALL! Make them scream his name. Beg, writhe.... He had to lick his lips as he just couldn't stop the giggles. Yes, he was giggling because he was just so FUCKING GIDDY. He could FEEL Elastor's hate, his loathing of his existence and he wasn't even necessarily aware of him yet. Till the smoke cleared and the two saw each other clearly.

"TAKATORIIIIIIIIIIIIIII,
DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"Bring it, ya little shit." He muttered, cackling to the sky as he waited till the last second as the fox charged at him so before stepping to the side and grabbing Elastors hands, bringing the blow through to slam him into the ground on his back. His laugh had quieted to more of a chuckle once more, jumping back as his lovely ladies were suddenly there amongst them. Handing him a katana to match, he unsheathed it before handing the sheath off to the girls. He would let the man catch his breath and get up, standing there relaxed but ready. After all, it was no fun to play with him if he was down already! "Chop chop Mr. Ito, we both know what happens when you take too long for things." Oh he was going to have fuuuun this day.

[Spade Aeries]

So much was happening...and yet nothing was. His brother was there in the snow, younger eyes tightening behind closed eyelids. His lip was bleeding against pale skin, hair thrown to the side and blowing casually in morning wind. Spade was staring at his hand, but really looking past it at his brother there in the snow, between his fingers. He took another breath and suddenly Ace's eyes were open, lips moving and no sound coming out. All Spade could hear was the wind guzzling against his eardrums. He closed his hand and dropped it at his side, bending down, knees in snow to look his brother in the eyes. Soft eyes...eyes he knew and recognized--nothing like before. ...Nothing at all. Spade would never admit it, not to himself--not even to Shula, but he was scared. That... unfamiliar hatred wafting off Ace, threw Spade off whatever track he had been running on. And now...now he was lost. He was cold...and the soft chime of the blood dripping on top of snow sounded so far away. The pain was evident now from where his hand touched the rough frost up to the gash itself and all the way down his spine. "Ugh... my apologies for that outburst. The problem is averted and--" Spade rested a hand on top of the boy's head, pulling their faces closer with one of the most affectionate expressions lingering on his face. Emerald eyes softened, unhidden by the shades on top of his head, and the smile there was something the happy-go-lucky loser never dared to show anyone until this moment. This was his brother--his brother that he loved and possibly one of the only human beings on this Earth that he could outwardly show that too. "Don't scare me like that."

A scream.

It was a scream he knew and it screamed PAIN. Pain--Shula's pain. Spade snapped back on track, returning to his manly man state and jolting upward to his feet. "Ace," he murmured, heart racing, mind in a million places. Whoever touched Shula was going to die. "Take back your order now and quit playing games; I didn't leave you the throne so you could desecrate it." It was harsh, but it was also an older brother speaking. He would talk to no one else like this: where he would laugh it off for others, he would deck his brother in the face because that was his duty. Spade never backed down from his duty. "We'll talk later. Come with me." A grabbed wrist was heaved up into the shadow of fading moonlight--only a fraction of what it once was. Morning... Morning again. Well, we lived to see another day, self. And, well, he was lazy. If you have to blame something, blame the blood loss. It wasn't Spade's natural personality or anything. "Let's take the elevator." Fuck bungee jumping.

He yanked the door open, watching snow falling to the ground. Dragging Ace into the darkness with him, they briefly descended stairs and out into what looked like an upscale restaurant seating area. "mmmI wonder if they have booze," he said offhandedly, drifting to the side, and letting the emperor's wrist go to fend for himself. Rummaging was heard out from the kitchen and a couple of muffled curses before Spade was sighted again, waving around a bottle of vodka. It figured they'd only have this and wine--the foul liquid. "What?" He said, trying to defend himself from the expression on his brother's face. "I used all mine...No I did not drink it. I swear." For some reason he felt like a parent that was lying to their child. 'I will quit smoking I promise. This is my last pack. This is my last pack. This is my--' LIES! But Spade wasn't lying. He wasn't lying! He really did use it, which didn't mean he consumed it. You see, he actually...purposefully caused a fire this time. He saved the life of some RIOTE beast.

"Aeries!" What? Spade turned around, attention torn from his brother and the elevator that was just in sight...so close and yet so far. The sound of the roof door banging shut echoed down the staircase and into the dining hall where the two Aeries stood among the graveyard of lavish chairs. Recognition smacked Spade in the face, but he figured Ace was just confused as shit.

"Y-yo~" He responded, wondering how the fuck this grizzly bear of a man found them here. "Wagner, why the fuck are y--"

"Brighton said you were on the roof, jus' took the fire escape up. What are you doing not seeking medical attention in that con--"

"I'm taking the elevator down; I don't have enough wire left. I heard Shula scream so I--" What the fuck was with this guy and cutting people off? And that not-jumping-off-the-roof spiel was better left...unsaid; it was easier if everyone just thought he was a lazy ass.

"That musta been when I popped her shoulder back."

"What? Oh." Spade shot his brother a look and then stared blankly back at Wagner. "Where is she now?"

"No idea."

"What good are ya. Want some?"

"It's not good to thin your blood out more when--"

Glug. "Hm? Were you saying something? Ace, lez go clean up your mess." He took a final swig and set the half-empty, near-giant bottle on the table. That shit buuurrrrned.

Wagner reached out a hand to stop him, but only managed to stare after the general until he disappeared with what appeared to be the emperor of Xing. That man was hopeless.

"Now Ace, don't push all the buttons this time. We're kinda in a hurry. Don't wanna stop on every floor. I'm going after a girl before she gets herself killed. I can't really rely on the concussed man either." He had no clue where Acra was now, but he was going to find Shula, dammit. This war... had gone all fucking night. Usually Amestris would have owned by now, but... he had a bad feeling. Like...maybe it was endless. Like maybe...they wouldn't win. Too many people were losing their lives...Amestris was already a wreck. Spade was a wreck. Ace was a wreck. Spade's gun was a wreck. What the fuck wasn't a wreck!? But it was okkkaayyy everyone would be fineeeeeeee because Super Spade was here! AHahahah11mwk!!~~ He swayed into the wall and smeared some blood there before the final ding sounded and the golden doors opened to reveal the outside once more. Smoke, gunfire, someone screaming 'TAKATORI' something or other. He tumbled out with Ace in tow and out the doors. Wow. Shit. Two crashed ships, and two redheads. There were also two medic dudes milling about. Spade stopped one who appeared to be approaching the Ice Queen and his death. "Woahwoah slow up, man. Question. Which way did the Ishvallan general go? Shula Brighton: short, looks like a thirteen-year-old."

"Oh, if you mean her, she went that way." Point.

"Thanks." Insert dragging Ace with him some more here. North a few blocks... And ugh the sun was rising more. He flicked his sunglasses back over his eyes, brown hair now free to wave about in the wind behind him. It was only-- He stopped dead in his tracks, a stream of a girl running past in a blur. Cowboy boots sinking in snow, the twist of hips and flay of a red skirt. That pissed expression. Brown hair. That smell. So many memories flashed by, dragging him to his knees, frozen still standing. It made him wish with the pangs of pain that...he had erased his own memories.. He still could...right now. If only he had a mirror. Spade turned, finding himself looking back at reality to the hustling of familiar pants. "Jacko...Robert?" The two of them stopped and grinned.

"Spade, sir! That's the girl. Didn't you hear the report? We're after her." They began running again, Spade on their heals. Without thinking, he, too was going after her, but not to catch her... No, he was going after her because her life now was his responsibility. Why the fuck was she here anyway!? For once in his life, Spade wished he wasn't in the company of a beautiful woman.

"Aaron.... where did you GO?" Shula. Ishvallan. An echo? He heard it twice... Over his radio and--

"Yeah, see we rounded the girl up to lead her right to where some of our troops are stationed. It was Jacko's idea. Damn genius. Just like a herd dog ahahaha!"

"..." Shit. This wasn't going to be simple anymore. He panted up to the troops, watching as Alisa was surrounded and forced to stop as well. Shit. "Cease fire. That's an order." He just had to pretend not to know her. He just had to pretend to be...just a kindhearted man. You know? He could blame it on the vodka later. He'd be fine. He was Spade for crying out loud. "What're you thinking? Can't kill a beautiful lady like that. Stop pointing your weapons at Ali--ALLEGATION that's what this is. Jeez. ...Shu, you alright there?" God alcohol worked wonders. Almost fucked up there, but he was a genius! "Ace, check it, some of your troops are over there looking scared." He laughed and stepped towards the girl...the beautiful girl in the red skirt...with brown hair named Alisa Donnikova with the sweet smell...so good in bed...the bad mouth, the fiery eyes. He held his breath, and hoped the shades were enough to cover over the faint sunrise breaking over the horizon and bathing her in pearly light. Oh god it was Alisa and no one else.

[Dai, let me know if any of this isn't cool. I figured you'd want Ace in on this.]

[Elastor Ito]

Elastor hissed as he sunk into the snow and his back slammed hard against the pavement. Eyes squeezed shut, yet he still saw stars. The smoke cleared and the shadow of man standing before him got the treat of an icy glare. Through narrowed eyes of hate, everything that he was and everything that he would ever be leaking through into a haze of loathing. His katana glinted as it shifted when he pulled himself to off-balance feet. Swaying, red hair lifted up in the shining rays of ethereal light. "Chop chop Mr. Ito, we both know what happens when you take too long for things." It stung. The bruising stain all along his back and the words that he knew the definition of too well. Payments...money--useless things that now constituted not only his existence, but that of his sister's. Anouk, today I will get revenge. Today, it would end...finally end. And she would be safe. As long as she was happy... it would be okay. His eyes flicked to Csi when he heard gunshots, saw he get skinned and nearly threw his katana at the guy, but...he was already dead. His eyes passed Takatori again on the way to where Dietrich was last sighted. Nothing. All was clear--clear for him to lose himself in hate.

"You will face justice!" Ela charged again, this time dodging to the side before cut down, hitting air, skimming across the surface of the snow and coming up. Sparks flashed when the two blades met, crying out as the sun broke over the horizon. Wails of silver ribbons, shuddering in a unrelenting dance of amusement and anger. The tip of Tatatori's blade waved across Ela's cheek as he twisted out of the way and behind him, holding the sword with one hand and swinging it over his head, missing. He let the momentum carry him and turned again just in time to meet a thrust of his enemy. A hiss escaped his lips, eyes piercing the air that dared get in between them. This man...who destroyed his life--this man who was now here before him. It had to happen. He had to die. Now. Now was the chance. Now was the only chance to kill him. 'Now or never' hadn't ever been to clear to him in all his life. Kill. Kill. He had to kill him. Take his life like he took his parents away. Take his life like he took away his parents'. Make it so he can never open his mouth again--so no more orders fell on ears that would murder an entire family just at the sound of his putrid voice. This man that was laughing--giggling like a fool with eyes that seared into his very soul. Sharp. Everything about Ela was sharp. He made himself into a sword, the glinting glare--the nails he dug into the hilt, the teeth that clenched in concentration, even the sweat that plunged off the tips of his ear tails. This was it.

This was it.

This was it. This was it. And it was only it. He slammed his blade down, skimming across the flat edge of Takatori's in a deluge of more sparks. At his hands. Cut his hand so he can't attack back. Then his neck... his neck. The pulsing veins... Spill it. Let it fall like the flames rise at the sky. This was it. He would die. Just die. Disappear already. Nothing like this man could last as long as he did--this unrelenting evil... Erase it!

[Reila Tsukino]

"If you say so, however think on what would happen if Briggs fell." It stayed with her. All this time. Words happened around her, but this remained, striking a chord in her heart and tearing down the frozen walls with the heat of the sunrise. She turned around, threads of red collecting light and whipping across her cheeks. It almost hurt. The retort didn't happen. She stood there in the slanted shadows of everything, witnessing the pieces of Dai leaking out of his eyes. What was he trying to prove? By leaving her with Dietrich, what was he trying to do? She couldn't understand and for once, he wasn't giving her answers. All he was giving her were things she already knew. Like hell she knew what would happen if Briggs fell, but Briggs wouldn't fall. The fact that those words came out of Dai's mouth made her all too familiar with the hard, cold facts that Dai was different now. Could she accept him like this? Could she get over these off-handed remarks? Could she rise up beyond them and stop fighting, stop arguing, stop crying? Could she... could she? It hurt. Did he know that it hurt--that every time he opened his mouth it hurt? She found herself biting her lip, enjoying the pain of the skin there ripping, teeth tearing it off. She turned her head and spit, taking a deep breath and coming closer to him. If she broke the distance maybe they could see eye to eye again, maybe she could finally listen to him again and the old Dai would return to her. Maybe then everything would--

"I don't... think we should continue to fight. Not now... we have our own damages to repair. Aurelius and Hild have already escaped, it seems... and... I think that too much fighting will cause us to lose ourselves..." ...--fall apart. It was falling apart in her hands, shattering like a thousand window panes in laughing wind, shrilling in the suffering of others. ...Who was this person? He ran off...got himself injured doing whatever the fuck he did, came crawling back, and had the audacity to speak these words in her presence? It hurt. Unbearable. There was so much she wanted to say--wanted to blurt out, but... it fell through her fingertips, raining down like sand against the beach, getting lost immediately. Dai was making an assumption--just assuming that Aurel and Hild were no longer here. Escaped? Where would they go, Esparia? It was impossible for them not to be here. This was the dawn of their domination over them: of course they would be here. And if they weren't, Vanity would be. Her lip quivered, holding back waves of emotion. No. No. You have to lead these people. Be strong. Be strong. No more bursting into tears on the battlefield--no more yelling at Dai and getting no results. It was a waste of energy that she could be using to save lives. Waste...lives. Leaving now would put all their efforts to waste--it would be cowardly. They would not run away. If she had to lose herself for the sake of ending this war, she would. It was okay, really. That feeling before... it was okay. She could accept it--she could accept that brutality that also ended Father's life to end more like his. It was for a reason. She had to save as many people as she could. To do that...to protect Amestris--to stop the killing, RIOTE had to be destroyed. Just like Father. And...if she had to lose herself to accomplish that, then wasn't that just like dying? They were already risking their lives. It was okay. Reila when compared to others, meant nothing to herself. It's okay. She smiled to herself, feeling her lip crack slightly. It hurt.

"Don't come back," she said quietly so only Dai could hear. Reila raised her eyes from where she had been looking and met his unblinking. The sheen gathered over them, thrashing across like waves of gold, but never falling. Know. Know my pain. She wouldn't let him see her cry anymore. Not after this... She turned around, grabbing her tachi and stalked away through the deep snow towards the faint sounds of gunfire. Long hair picked up in the wind behind her, strands twirling around demonically. She sucked in a shuddering sob, chewing on her lip and staring at the turning-blue sky. It was so hard. She didn't want this. This wasn't supposed to happen. Why? Why did he have to constantly trample her heart and everything that he knew she was? Was he that selfish? After so much...she had been finally beginning to open up to him again...to smile at him and...and she just. Snow. She was in the snow on her knees. Her face was thrust into her hands, sobs wracking her body without permission. She lost herself in it and didn't care. For once...let me be selfish. She raised her head and let out a wail of misery, curling into herself until it was all gone--lost beneath the roars of lost lives. Oh god...just let it end. Someone come and kill me. Kill me now because it would hurt less. "W-why" she sputtered. Why did I say that? Can...can I take it back? No. It was a decision I made. I can't take it back. I can just rot here. I'll just stay here until they find me. I can die here and freeze to death. Slow...painful...just like my entire life. What am I even living for anymore? What am I doing? Anyone else could do this job just as well. I mean nothing. It would be better if I had never been born. Saga could be happy...My parents wouldn't have had to throw me away... throw me away... She lay there for what felt like years, but when the tears cracked against her cheeks and she stared dully at the clock, it had only been ten minutes. Ten minutes? Was that only how long it took for her to renounce her existence--to cry her heart out and run out of pain? She felt empty as she swayed to her feet, mascara and eyeliner staining her cheeks like the scars of fire. Dried blood fell away when she touched the gash just below her eye that stung. That was how long it took?

She didn't know she was walking until she noticed that dead bodies were lining her path forward. She stared at them, smelling the iron in the air--almost tasting the blood. Blood. Her stomach flip-flopped and she nearly face-planted into the blank eyes of a man that couldn't possibly be called a human anymore. He was...purple. It...it wasn't real. The snow....was dyed all the same color. They were all the same. SO WHY WERE THEY FIGHTING!? Stop...just STOP. So many Amestrians under her feet--so many RIOTE clad in their black uniforms standing just ahead of her. Shouting...they were shouting something. She heard her name. Aa, so they knew. She felt herself smiling, no longer knowing why a smile could exist now that she had said what she said. "Hello boys." She didn't recognize her own voice or that she had unsheathed her tachi and raised it to the scabbing slash and reopened it. Her blood poured anew down her cheek. She concentrated closely, alchemic energy flowing out of her in torrents of emotion. Guns were raised by the RIOTE men and fired, bullets sailing at her--about to kill her. But they all froze just feet from her, caught in stasis. She felt her eyes narrow, the light of the rising sun peeking out behind her. They looked shocked, but continued firing until having to reload. So many bullets surrounded Reila that she had to force many to drop so she could actually see. Raising her sword with glowing vibrant eyes, she was at their throats in seconds. No, she didn't even need to go that far. Their blood came to her. No iron escaped the strong pull of everything that was magnetism. She drew it out--out their eyes--out their mouths... She was painting this time with them. It was all the same. They die and then they die. It was pointless. So very pointless. So pointless she felt sick. Blood just...everywhere. She stopped when her tachi broke and tossed it carelessly away. More kept coming. Did RIOTE ever end?

She dropped under the attack of a man who was trying to hit her with his bare hands (seeing as she was bullet proof). Her hands slammed into the ground under the snow and the ground sank, causing the man to topple over and Reila to pull out a spear that was then stabbed through his heart mercilessly. She turned towards the others and whipped the spear around until a funnel formed, alchemy jutted through the air and creating a blast of a tornado out towards the hoards and hoards of enemy troops. All the Amestrians...were dead. Screams wrecked the wind, reaching her just like the hands trying to grab her. No. Just try it. She smirked and slashed the spear across, the wind severing their limbs. But they were still alive. Still breathing meant that they weren't equal. She hissed and dove forward, grabbing their necks until they turned into human ice cubes. Everything water froze ahead as she walked forward across the ice skating rink she made, past corpses of men who could only gape and die. "消して RIOTE." Because that was all that mattered now. She had nothing else. Mura was gone...inside her... Xan disappeared...and now Dai. She had nothing. It was all gone. Her family was gone. Only this remained. She wasn't human; she was like those monsters--those homunculi. It was...as if she had become Father himself... An evil beast. she didn't deserve the right to judge others--to exact her will like this. This...this power flowing from her...wouldn't change anything. She was just killing--killing, killing. More killing brought about more killing. This wouldn't end. She'd be like this forever, breaking down, basking in her own grief, and wishing she hadn't said those words. VICTORY. This was about winning. Winning so they could go home, but Reila didn't want to go back to that empty room--that room where Ilona once slept--where Yoshi and her once played video games. No...that was all gone--lost with time and only remaining in dusty memories. The kind of dust that made you sneeze--brought the painful tears that hurt so good because it meant that they weren't completely dead--completely gone yet... And before her, was a tornado, picking up snow and fire--was a sea of dead bodies--was herself standing there covered in blood staring at nothing and wishing she could just disappear.

[Dai]

And then... she was gone. He'd watched her reaction to his statement, the breeze brushing his face and stinging his eyes. "Don't come back," Don't... don't come back? Normally, he would've attested the feeling that was in his eyes to the wind, but he knew that he was starting. Small tears of sadness dropped to the ground at his feet; and he felt his body slowly beginning to shiver. It was cold. It was really cold, and now that he could no longer see her, he realized that much now. Closing his eyes slightly, he turned his head to the side, mulling things over. Of everything that it could possibly be, he was starting to realize it. He said that he'd done it for her. He'd always told himself that. It was something that had been repeated, over and over in his head. Red hair fell around his face, framing this vision of sadness and self-hatred. No, no. He couldn't hate himself. If he hated himself, if he didn't accept what he was... His right hand slowly closed into a fist, and the red orbs opened up wider, staring into the distance. "I suck at being selfish." He finally knew it. What he wanted, what he was. He wanted Reila, not to make her happy, but for his own happiness. Every time she looked at him with that expression, it killed him a little more inside. Every time she spoke cold words, he felt his own body freeze. It was getting to be too much, and yet... "I could've died... saved her the problems of myself..." His mind returned to that fight with Takatori. He had been on the ground, covered in his own blood. Takatori was completely unscathed, and ready to kill him as slowly as he felt like. And then... he'd seen Reila's ship. That had filled him with strength. Seeing Reila in danger made him want to continue onwards. That's why he survived... not because of him... but her. "She's everything to me..." Feet started moving in a direction that they knew already. Eyes that were listless and full of death were now staring into the distance with new-borne fire and strength. "Don't come back," Don't come back, huh? No, he didn't want to listen to that. He wasn't letting it end, or if it did... not like this.

He didn't walk quickly, nor did he make any fast movements. It was as if he knew exactly where to go, in this frozen world of blood and tears. A hand reached up into the sky, and he looked up at it, following the gaze, the tears that still rolled down his face fell by his sides. He opened up his mouth, and shouted into the distance of nothing... "WHAT DO YOU MEAN DON'T COME BACK?!" Breathing in again, he looked down and shook his head. Daigoro Ito was a mix of emotions right now; sadness lined his lips and regret filled every corner. Anger. Yes, there was anger. He wasn't angry at anything in particular, he was just angry. There was nothing to direct his anger to, except for her. He could go and see her. He could convert this anger that he felt into energy. Taking a needless emotion and putting it into something that he could use. Yes, that would work. It would make things easier on both ends.... if only. If only it was that easy. He'd taken Reila's heart and ripped it out of her chest. After that, he cruelly smashed it and crushed it under his foot. Maybe... he should just be angry at himself. Yes, that was always a good way to be angry. If one was angry at themselves, then they could remove that anger without hurting anyone else. But... what if he harmed himself? Would Reila forgive him? It hurt so much. Everything... hurt. His body, covered in blood. His mind, covered in sorrow. His heart, covered in cracks. Cracks that lined the world all converged towards his heart. "Nngh..." A breath, tinged with pain. He felt that as well. No, he had to continue walking. He stumbled through wreckage and destruction, a lone bastion in this wasteland. His body was red with wet blood; glistening under the moonlight. Kind of ironic. He was... just there. Red. Red. That color red...

Screams. Yes, he could hear them. Those screams were everywhere now. That was all he heard. The screams of men dying. The screams of children crying. It was all that he could hear, even when in bed. A man who couldn't sleep, plagued by everything that was hateful to him. But... it was gone when she was there. Her smile cleaned everything away. When Reila smiled at him, everything just disappeared. It was as if he couldn't do any wrong. But in her eyes, everything he did was now wrong. He had to growl at this, letting guttural tones leave his throat. That animalistic noise... it was the most rational thing he'd thought at the time. Breathing in deeply, his hands went to the pistols at his hips. He didn't enjoy killing. It was hard enough destroying the lives of those men in their white clothing. In fact... he was scared of himself, at times. Scared of the power that he held. Scared of the possibilities that his Alchemy made for himself. It was there that he realized... why was he scared of it? Was he scared of his weakness? Was he scared of his strength? Maybe both? He could control it, but he couldn't keep it safe. He couldn't even protect Reila here. He'd let her crash. He'd left her. Was he really that horrible? Grr. The sounds of falling bodies drew him closer. While it would not normally do so, the fact that there was no gunfire confused him. He swallowed, and rounded a corner. And that's what greeted him.

Red. So much red. All this red, and death. And in the middle of this red, more red. But that red... while it was normally graceful, was brutish. And he didn't know that red. That red... stood before a tornado. Fire. Red snow. Red bodies. All red. Was that all they could be? Red. No. He refused to accept that. His usually-soft eyes sharpened. His hands gripped themselves tightly, the knuckles on his left hand turning a pale white. He was done. He couldn't bear to watch her do this to herself. All that self-rage, sadness, devastation... it all came rushing back to him. He stepped into the area behind her, and shouted. No, it wasn't angry. Daigoro wasn't shouting angrily... he was shouting enough to be heard. He wanted her to hear her, to listen to him. She wasn't listening to him. "REILA." Did that sound angry? He didn't believe it to; he would never think of himself as being angry at her. He loved her too much--anger was something that he'd never feel towards her. "Why don't you see it anymore? You always saw the pain. Every time you look at me like I'm a stranger... it hurts. It hurts just to see that look from you..." Tears began to roll down his cheeks, harder than before. He wasn't holding back his emotions for her sake, now. There were too many, they were too strong. His entire body shook violently, but his gaze never left her head. "I could've died, tonight. I was on the ground... he was over me. He had a knife... and... I'd resigned to death, almost completely. Do you know... what gave me the strength to go on?" He pointed behind him, almost instinctively hitting the UFO with his finger's point. "I SAW YOU. I saw your craft. I saw you go down. And all I could think about was getting away from that which could kill me... and saving you..." He laughed dryly, shaking his head slightly. His hair was caked in blood; his body, wet with melted snow.

That's when everything disappeared. His mind was blanking out, and he stepped backwards slightly, shaking it. No, he had to continue on.... but what if this was the wrong path? "I haven't changed. I don't know why you think I have." He stepped forwards again, the tears rolling past his chin and pattering on the ground, frozen by the temperatures of this environment. His heartbeat was the only thing that he heard. "I love you." He spoke those words without hidden regret. He spoke them without anything to bar them. "Your happiness defines me. When I see you smile, everything seems to be better. When I see you sad, it makes me sick to the core. This isn't you, Reila. You're not some murderess. You value lives. I can't bear to see you like this..." His face was wet with the tears, he honestly felt like a pathetic sight. "But I still love everything about you... every day that I was in Creta, it hurt. It hurt to be so far away from you. It hurt me to know that you were going about your daily life without realizing that I was missing. Maybe I have changed... maybe that pain's what changed me... but not much. Not enough to be a total stranger to you..." He hung his head slightly, and looked over to the side. "I just... do you remember? We could spend hours just talking. We'd get to 6am, and then finally look at the time. I want to do that again. I want to talk to you like we'd always done..." He was about to stumble forwards, fall to his knees from exhaustion. But Briggs Soldiers never fell to their knees... so he would stay on his feet, no matter how much it pained him. "I never wanted... to lose you..." He was exhausted now. He was lost. He was cold. Tired. Hungry. Sad. Everything was catching up to him...

Except for Reila.

She was just...

Running away...

No.

Eh? What was that? Why... she was running away from him. She was leaving him. She was going to go. She was going to be gone. No. Can't have that. Can't have her run away. Why, though? Why can't she just leave? If she wants to go, she can jutt leave. It's all up to her.

Because I love her.

Yes, yes. But if you love something, you let it go, right? Normally... but he knew. He knew that she didn't want to run. She knew that she was going to keep going until she lost it all. He stepped forwards and thrust an arm out to his side, ignoring the pain now. The fire burned in his eyes, and he stared at Reila as if there was nothing left in this world.

She's all I have.

"I don't want to lose you, Reila." An unwavering voice spoke out to the woman, carrying through the battlefield to her, unabated by anything anymore. No more was needed. Nothing. he knew it all. He could do it. "I don't want to lose you..."

Because I can't see a future without her.

"I can't see a future without you."

Because she is my world and my universe.

"You are my world, my universe."

Because if I lose her, I lose myself.

"If I lose you, then I'll never know myself anymore. I experienced that while in Creta." His eyes lowered, and he smiled softly. Why did he smile? He didn't know. He should be sad right now. He should be depressed. He should be here, crying, a wreck. He was, but is now no longer. Where did this confidence come from...

The truth... it's hard, isn't it? I knew it all along. I knew that it was me. I knew that I'd changed. My mind, my morals. Everything. I've only been denying it to myself. That's it... THATS IT!

"I have changed. Ever since Creta, I started to lose sight of myself. It was the first time in a long time that I was truly alone, and that affected my mind... I couldn't bear it, being away from you. But that's just me whining. That's just my weakness. Instead, I will turn it to a strength."

With these words, I will affirm my morals.

With this statement, I will show my heart.

With all of this, I will be true to myself...

I have long walked the path of blood, but I will now change that path. I will show her... I will be that person... who will destroy all evil, and retain all good.

"Reila Tsukino." A strong voice. Unwavering. Without weakness. Nothing like before. He spoke with clear tones, now knowing the complete truth. "Reila Tsukino. I love you. I will not falter, and I will show you that I do. Because not only am I the man who loves you, I am a soldier of Briggs, of Amestria. If I can not be strong, then I can not survive." His automail hand banged onto his chest, and he grinned with a confidence that he hadn't shown before. "I wish to apologize. I apologize for leaving you. I apologize for breaking your heart. ANd I ask of you...

Please find it in your heart to forgive me."

[Reila Tsukino]

Silence trickled into the morning, warming the top of her head and drawing her back to the fact that she was still standing there...not disappearing. Wishes don't come true. It was gone. Everything she was, everything she is, but she was still standing there, surrounded by empty bodies, frozen in the sinews of time. Tick, tick, tick it happened. Time didn't wait; life didn't stop. She stood there. Still there. Still...still...still... And nothing else was happening except happening. She was staring. That intense staring. Couldn't look away. That particular body was so captivating that she didn't even see it, and her mind wandered further to nothing. Nothing so intense her head was spinning, and she saw a blur of something...someone with a fist aimed at her head. No more. She felt her eyes pry off of their spot and creak over to the swift shadow of a person. He gurgled just before the end in a voice that could only be described as creepy. It would haunt her. She knew this already. "You can kill us, but you can't kill our caauszz...guhg!!" Dead weight on her feet. It was uncomfortable. She kicked it away and stared at the sky because she was sure that it was the only thing that could comfort her. Beyond the swirling moans of the tornado lumbering into the distance, the quiet wisp of wind over snow made her feel like she wasn't alone. But...snow could disappear. She could only die. Like these... --ulp... These people were dead. All of them were dead. Hands flew to her mouth and she swallowed bile that rose up her throat, dragging thorns all the way to her taste buds. Blood. Blood was everywhere. She had known that before, so wh-why? The spear dropped out of her hands and she took, long gasping breaths, watching the plumes of air that left her lungs only to disappear...

Something yanked her backwards, ghosts of pain gnawing needles into every pore of her scalp. When was her hair down? Last night it had been pulled up....Pulled. Someone was pulling her hair. She was crying out and didn't even notice. All she had to do was touch him and that expression of anger was etched onto his face forever and a day. The drag marks in the snow looked relatively long. It confused her. How long had he been dragging her before she realized? Running fingers through the knots, she wandered forward over the countless bodies left in the wake of not her, but her alchemy. Why was she killing these people again? These people that were fighting for the destruction of alchemy... Maybe it was better if alchemy didn't exist. Then she couldn't do this. And they couldn't do-- No. Amestris was destroyed by bombs not alchemy. It could be repaired by alchemy... That was why. That was why. Remember that...have to remember why. Right? That's the reason.... To save lives...Make people happy. When she took the position at Briggs...none of this had crossed her mind. She was right; she was just; nothing else mattered. But now. Now mattered. What was this then!? Alone, she erased people. Where did they go? Just gone... What was the difference between that and making a philosopher's stone? What... separated her from the enemy? Nothing. Nothing did. She was evil. Evil just like them--like them and Father. She...she...

"REILA." Something alive. With a voice. The silence was gone from the leftovers of the creepy voice telling her she would never win--that peace would never exist... That voice made her stop short. She wouldn't turn around; to turn around would be to return to that place--the place with the empty room and tears stained into the mattress. The place where everyone only listened to her and never cared about what was behind the orders. It would return her to that regret that was said and unable to be taken back. What was he here for? To ream her out? Call her names? Discard her in the same way so she wouldn't have the last word? Laugh at her? Those masks--facades of laughing faces, pointing fingers at the raggedy girl with golden eyes on display in front of the trashcans. Throw her pennies and giggle as she dug through the sewer to retrieve them. That's right. Humanity was rotten. Why should she be any different? What she was doing wasn't so bad. Did she really need a reason? They didn't. No, they didn't. People without reasons were everywhere--drones marching in a parade of conformity, ridiculing those on the sidelines. What is humanity if each person is so different? Would be erasing one taking away something precious and essential to the world? Before its time--or was its time now? The cold faces didn't answer, but the voice behind her did. It continued...going and going, bridging on whining and the smell of salt. So familiar. Like a butterfly's wings when ripped off. Still flapping, but not attached to what it really was.

"I don't want to see the pain anymore," she felt her lips form the words that came out as a string of strangled whispers. She was staring again--hard at the orbs of a dead female that looked like mini pool balls made of pearl.

"I haven't changed. I don't know why you think I have. I love you. Your happiness defines me. When I see you smile, everything seems to be better. When I see you sad, it makes me sick to the core." That again. Would it melt her heart like all the other times? Maybe it did, but she couldn't tell. Standing there and doing nothing was the better option than responding. Responding would hurt. Because she already knew the answer.

Reila loved him too.

"You're not some murderess. You value lives. I can't bear to see you like this..." What? Like what? This was who she really was. It made her turn around and stare him hard in the face. Continue now. Go ahead. Do I look like a murderer? Killing these people wasn't against the law; she had the authority and every reason to kill these people who equally wanted to kill her. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. What was wrong in living? Couldn't any of them kill me? ...It--it was hard finding the answer to that. Still, he just...indirectly called her a murderer. ...Like this. Sure, she was covered in blood and surrounded by so many dead RIOTE members, but... Heh, this was war, right? Fucking right. But...right now. This voice that was happening...wasn't war--wasn't hate, but something else entirely. The rose by her beside. Dai. Her Dai. The Dai she cast away, the Dai she yelled at, the Dai she belittled and cried to and cooked for and the Dai that stole her first kiss... That Dai. The one and only Dai. The Dai that kept coming back no matter how ruined it was--whether surrounded by bodies...or flowers, snow...or sand. "Reila Tsukino. I love you. I will not falter, and I will show you that I do. Because not only am I the man who loves you, I am a soldier of Briggs, of Amestria. If I can not be strong, then I can not survive." No, she was already sold. Highest bidder for the one Daigoro Ito. Sold...for nothing.

Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.

But a smile. It felt so foreign that she wanted to cry--was crying. It was happening and falling to her turned up lips. Hair stuck to her cheeks and she noticed she had been running for some time now--running through the distance. Please make it stop. Make it all not be there so the distance could disappear. That. That was what she had wanted to disappear. "Please find it in your heart to forgive m--oof" She smacked into him, a glitter of bright, blinding light behind her as the sun fully risen. Reila's arms latched around him, tight, never letting go. She buried her hair in whatever, just knowing it was him. And sobbed, broke his eardrums, she wasn't sure anymore. It happened. She wasn't even standing anymore. He was holding whatever she had become in his arms, soaking up her tears in whatever he was wearing. She didn't know. It was Dai. Dai, whose lips she raised her head just slightly to meet. She forgot about time, about happening, about disappearing. It all was just Dai, melting into the corners of her smile, fading into darkness. Her mind stopped and she didn't notice before she passed out right on top of him, never letting go once.

[Alisa Donnikova]

FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!!

The Drachman-Xingese woman was running for her goddamn life as Amestrian's gave chase behind her, reminded of some action movie or some shit. Except she wasn't no pa... par..... Oh fuck the word, JUST RUN. GODDAMMITHERLEGFUCKINGHURT! "This is fucking bullshit!" She shouted in frustration to the sky, glancing about as soldiers were coming into view. She ran right past a man holding up a younger boy, but she didn't stop. He might be fucking after her too! Fuck that. There was a painful throb in her shoulder and she cursed her lack of a knife right now otherwise she'd be cutting up her jacket to wrap it up somehow. Fuck. This. Shit. This is why you never return to a country where you vowed "fuck all." NEVER.

"There she is! Get her!"

"You boys wanna FUCKING DIE?! THEN FUCK OFF! I AIN'T DONE FUCKING SHIT TO YOU JESUS FUCK!!!" She screeched, firing off a couple of warning shots by their feet, growling in both frustration and pain since the motion of turning back had hurt her shoulder. She was sliding. Ah fucking hell. Almost nose-diving into the snow covered pavement, she righted herself quickly and stumbled about a corner only to find.... "FREEZE! DOWN ON THE GROUND! DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" "Fuck." Stupidstupidstupid FUCKING TRAP! Slowing to a stop, she still held her guns out and ready, counting how many there were about her. Too many, thats for fucking sure.

This was fucking bullshit. Muttering curses under her breath between Drachman and Xingese, she was starting to crouch down to place her guns down when that man she had passed was suddenly speaking. "Cease fire. That's an order." Her one eyebrow raised as she froze, only to snarl in pain and place a hand to her shoulder. Why was he helping her? Shit... She didn't owe him money or something right? Some would ask why she thought that. Her answer (besides "Fuck off") would be, "Its complicated." And thats it. "What're you thinking? Can't kill a beautiful lady like that." She blinked twice. Was... was this guys drunk? Or just that.... Familiar...? Straightening up, she slid one of her guns carefully into its holster, fully plugging her wound with a grip of her hand as her leg throbbed painfully. "Stop pointing your weapons at Ali--ALLEGATION that's what this is. Jeez. ...Shu, you alright there?" An eyebrow raised, he definitely had started to say "Alisa." So he did fucking know her. But... OW. PAIN. EVER--y...where? The more she stood there and stared at his sudden aid, the more her chest was beginning to ache. Wh...what the hell? Wh-why did seeing him hurt her? Leaning all of her weight onto her good leg, the other Amestrians, hell even the guy he was propping up had vanished for the moment. It was just her and this... man....

"Ace, check it, some of your troops are over there looking scared." Xingese? She was starting to get the worst headache as her heart beat against its chambers, against her ribs, against her head. It was calling, trying its damndest to get to this man that she didn't... know... He was stepping up to her, and instinctively she had started to raise her gun, not caring that it gave her pain to. "Wh-Who are you? Why do you seem to know me and don't FUCKING tell me you don't?!" She snapped at him in Xingese, eyes wide as fear and confusion gripping at her with great claws as she knew that somehow.. she knew this man.... He smelled of cigarettes, blood, and booze. Her brown eyes flickered over him as her free hand tightened, her gun fully pointed at him. It didn't matter he was helping her, he... he had done something... Head... pounding... Heart.... JESUS. Brown hair, normal build, sunglasses-- It was as if she froze, her wide eyes halting as she just stared at those sunglass covered eyes. Those sunglasses were fucking important. Soft light still. Booze... booze booze.... cigarettes... A.. a building?

Wincing, she touched the butt of her gun to her head as her legs and body bent, her mind feeling as if it were breaking against the battering from her heart. She... she hadn't felt such things since... since back then when her father was alive, but this... this was different... you didn't... God FUCK what.. what was this?! Sh-she... She knew him. Xingese. Raising her eyes, her face was a blank slate for a second, lowering her hand that held her gun. Then her brows furrowed as she just stared at him. Straightening up, she found herself taking a step forward towards him. A... a building... Ruins and rubble... A... a face.. She stopped as still as stone right in front of her, the gun and her hand just barely touching his chest as her other hand that gripped her shoulder slid away from it. Booze. Smoking. A bar. Xingese food? Groans in the night, creaking of bedsprings. Booze... booze... Tears... A tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't react to it as her empty hand slowly reached up towards his face, stopping about halfway there. An apartment... "Fucking lucky bastard..." She whispered, puzzlement clear in her voice as she tentatively removed those sunglasses to see his eyes. She had to see his eyes even if the sun may blind him...

Green eyes that knew her. Green eyes that had struck her when she had met him months ago in a bar in Amestris where he had fallen face first into her boobs. Green eyes that had held her captive as she teased him in his apartment before the war with Creta. Green eyes that had been pained as she saved him from his collapsing apartment. Green eyes that had been so sad as they stood outside the ruins of his home, then... "Spade." One word, but all of it had come rushing back. And for once, she had nothing to say. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she knew what the feeling was that had caused her heart to cry out so. She loved him. She loved this bastard that stood before her, and she felt an almost sad sort of smirky-smile rise to her lips. It held a hint of helplessness, finally looking away from him before placing his sunglasses back on his face carefully. "I see something must have happened to your old ones. Nice choice for a replacement." She murmured, reverting back to herself as she frustratedly wiped away those wet trails on her cheeks, taking a step or two back from him. Some part of her wanted to hug him, another wanted to slap him. Yet she did neither.

Why hadn't she remembered him? She didn't remember what happened after she had finally realized she.... she loved him. God that was still such a fucking strange thing! But she couldn't deny it. And now... Now she knew she didn't want to be separated from him. She shouldn't have rejected his offer before. That caused her to stare pointedly at the ground for a moment, clearly feeling uncomfortable as she started to raise her head, then pause as if having second thoughts on speaking. Then she raised it again, her brown eyes looking at him uneasily as she bit her lower lip. "Is.... Is that offer still open?" She asked him softly, preparing herself for whatever answer might come. Fuck. She had grown attached to someone, but fuck it. What had she said when she left this forsaken country? "Fuck all." She was a goddamn survivalist, she could find a way to survive. A way to live with him. Finally... The great Alisa Donnikova had found someone else to survive for.

[Guest]

Mmm yes.. yesyesyesYESYESYES! THERE! In his eyes, he could see it. The pain, how upset his own presence caused such ANGER in the young man. He barely had to do shit to get a hard on from Elastor! It was so.... delightful. Thats why he was his favorite. Mmm, lovely chew toy. Aye, the rest were merely appetizers for the main course. He wondered if his sister would be as entertaining if, no--when he would meet her face to face. Because he had her kids, he KNEW she would come. He expected it. Though.... Did she know yet? So far, his information told him no. Ohhhhh that would be delicious as well!! If only he could be in the room for that....

"You will face justice!" To this, Takatori laughed, sidestepping as he continued to hold his sword calmly down by his side. One might assume that such a big man wouldn't be able to dodge so fast, but how wrong they would be. On the upswing, he blocked, that grin still plastered across his face as they clashed and danced. Thats right ya fucker, DANCE. He had been asked once why he had such a seeming obsession with the term, but in response? He merely smirked and said, "Cuz life's a fuckin' dance. Now get me my booze." A streak of red, blood had been spilt. And boy did that make him laugh, the dance almost becoming a frenzy as sadism met fury. He was such a firecracker, and thats why Takatori loved to torture him so. He offered all the right reactions, all the addicting pain that he lived off of. Clang, shhhiink!, amidst the gunfire and smoke. The jaws of death and claws of life. Block, attack, parry, stab.... A tango of the samurai and never did that grin fall. The chitterings would be silent for another year with how much he was enjoying himself.

And yet..... All was not as awesome as he had hoped in paradise. For thats what this was. This frenzied dance went back and forth, one trying to dominate the other.... Or well... One trying to gain domination while the other beat him down with a "bitch please" every time. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh..... Yes, this was fun. But it was also... boring. He got it already. Elastor wanted to kill him. Parrying a blow, he suddenly punched the fox right in his fucking snout with all his might. "You need a life boy." He muttered, backing up a few steps as he circled about narrowing his eye as he stared at him, cloak billowing behind him. He was suddenly disgusted by how this boy (and thats what he was, a boy) was just so fucking consumed. Jesus fucking christ. Feinting, he had stepped forward and then back, slicing at his ankles before dodging to the side.

[Guest]

“I'm going to gather the rest of my troops and move to your location. I think perhaps now it's best we stay together. We'll be there soon.”

Yipping, Jeu-Hee was punched and fell back into a car, panting as she pushed herself up slowly. Most of the Drachman's were down, but some still stood. She was currently fighting one on one with a large man, her ears laying back as she narrowed her eyes at him and snarled. Dodging to the side, she jabbed twice with her dagger and rolled to the side as bullets rained over from the Amestrian's. At least they weren't focused on her men. "Circle about on one side and come about. Help fortify our position." She ordered to her men, blood splurting onto her arm as she moved to the side some more as the man was spinning about to face her. He was pissed. And bleeding everywhere. Her pink tongue snaked out and licked her nose, prepping to dodge another attack.

He didn't just punch, he just charged right at her and grabbed her about the waist, ramming her into the car again. Crying out in pain, she stabbed downward into his spine, gasping for air as he fell right over, allowing her to crumple to the ground. Coughing, her tail drooped as she jerked the knife out of his back, blood and spinal fluids pouring out. Rolling the body off of her, Jeu-Hee touching a finger to her ear as she crawled around to the other side of the car to be in cover. "Copy that Xiao." She finally answered, glancing around the corner to see that there was a Drachman with a BAZOOKASHIT! "GET DOWN!!!" The rocket whizzed down the street and exploded, sending men flying and screams into the air. A car exploded as fire roared and greeted her ears, the smell of burning flesh harsh against her nose. Her ears were ringing, cursing how sensitive some of her senses were.

The Drachman's wasted no time in attacking, the young ambassador pushing herself up as she gripped her dagger a bit tighter. God dammit..... "'ello Xingese Militants. You're probably confused as shit right now, but let me relieve your stress, seeing as hot coco doesn't seem to be served in the middle of a war zone. This is Sakuya Aeries speaking. Yeah, I'm sure you heard all sorts of rumors. Like maybe that I'm the initial heir to the throne or something? So technically my orders must also be taken into account. Furthermore, let me mention that... uh no, you're not switching sides. Finish strangling your enemy and discreetly go back to whatever you were doing before my kid brother decided to lose his mind. Over and out." Blinking, she couldn't really respond to anything that had been said the militants were bearing down. That confirmation was of great relief to her though even as she ran forward low to the ground, sweeping a blow upward as she curved about and vanished behind the side of another car.

The Amestrians were moving forward, herself blowing past one back towards her men, "Move forward! Tear those Drachman's down!" She called over the radio, gesturing for a couple of men to follow her back up on the sidewalk towards the Drachmans. As they came up on those militants, she ducked down with her ears laying back as far as possible, "Chu no ku's! Explosive shots!" They shot off above her head, exploding into the men before them. At the same time their allies fired into their mutual enemy, the resistance dissipating into blood on the snow. Bodies lay everywhere now, fire still crackling on a few of the cars back down the street. "Ugh... my apologies for that outburst. The problem is averted and......shouldn't be coming back, any time soon." Saeji....Oh good...

All of the separate remaining groups stepped out into the main section of the street, the Xingese on one side, Amestrian's on the other. They stood there, staring at each other calmly, a strange sense of kinship in the air. She allowed her body to shift back into her human form, the ears sinking back into her head along with his tail, her hair reverting back to brown-black. "We apologize again for what has happened. Are we... alright?" She asked carefully, biting her lower lip as she stared up at those men. Why did everyone seems so tall?! They didn't answer, but they nodded and moved onward, leaving their allies behind. Yep.... they were still bitter.... But at least they didn't have to worry about fighting them anymore.

Once they were gone, she sank down to her knees and exhaled heavily, her body trembling as she stared at the ground. My god.... She had messed up so bad.... "Commander? What shall we do?" Someone asked her gently, moving around to the front of her. Looking up slowly to her men, her green eyes were.... She just... Tears had appeared in them once more. Why were they still following her? "Lets.... Lets gather up the wounded. Wait for Xiao to arrive." She said softly, sniffling as she realized a hand was offered to help her up. Blinking twice, she stared at him in amazement, taking it as she was pulled up. They let her be on her own as they shouldered their weapons and went to work, the girl of the sweet smile not smiling anymore. She just.... She needed to go to North City after this. Ayden... She wanted a hug from him so bad right now...

[Spade Aeries]

It...was... so hard. To stand there and swallow everything like a man should--to look on the woman he loved like she was a stranger. His men were grumbling and moving off towards where he called to Shu. He just barely saw her nod--just barely noticed that now it was just them there, and she was pointing a gun at him. Those eyes staring down the barrel at him--those eyes he knew that if he met...would change everything. He stared at her slender hands that held such strength, her finger molesting the trigger that would end his life. And Spade found himself wishing she pull it. He killed his first love and now to be killed by his second...just seemed right. It was so right it hurt. He felt his chest grow tight--every breath faint and forced, growing harder and harder not to meet those eyes. Pull the trigger, he shouted in his mind, wincing inwardly at how much it echoed against the walls of his broken soul. Just let it end. The liver cancer couldn't come soon enough. This...was how it should be. Shula had Acra, Ace had his throne. Without him, life would go on without too many sorrows. It would be okay like this, right Alisa? Just pull the trigger and end our story. Sad endings left the most impact anyway. He was just a shard--a leftover silhouette of a man that knew how to drown in his drinks enough to force a smile. That's who he was. A bullet wouldn't change that, but...a bullet could end the legacy of a happy-go-lucky playboy with too many unfinished dreams.

"...Why do you seem to know me..." Spade snapped out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting hers suddenly. Everything swirled away and he swore his heart stopped. He was dead. She pulled the trigger. But there was no blood, only the fear running out of her eyes and piecing together what he had worked so hard to swipe under the rug. Inception. Something that had taken away her pain. She was now questioning it. Yeah, I know you. I know you too well, Alisa. Why...why was she here now? Out of all the world--out of all the places--out of all the people...why was she here now? Right here. Standing in front of him was Alisa. And it was the hardest thing in the world to laugh, to force the sound out of him and wave it off as if it were nothing. But he did it. It felt like walking over needles, rolling in them and liking it. But he did it. And Spade did it...for her happiness.

"Yeah, you're that girl. Alisa, right? You owe me money." Be vague. Being vague meant the gaps would be filled. Surely she owed money to some people. She was a mercenary for crying out loud. It would work. She'd run or something...or curse him out. Maybe she'd shoot him dead. Either way...it would work out. Spade was sure that this was the right way--that this would ensure her happiness. As long as his men didn't kill her--as long as nothing else killed her...but who was he kidding, this was war. No, she was a survivalist; she would be fine. That was what Spade liked about her. She bent over, favoring a leg, and touched the gun to her head. He...didn't expect this. It made him nervous, it was a cold, light feeling that left him restless and on the verge of breaking down. He felt it in him, rising slowly like the tides of a thawing sea, gripping him in claws of remorse. If only... The gun was lowered, dashing any goodbyes that Spade had been thinking of saying before the end. It seemed the end wasn't coming just yet. Not...yet. He opened his mouth to say something stupid when he suddenly saw the tears running gently down her cheeks...just like...like... "I love you Spade but I can't do this..." Don't say you can't do it! It had been such a short time...It would be easy to just throw it away, right? Move on. He had moved on. She couldn't remember him. She was crying over the money he 'owed' her. It was the money. Just the mon--

"Spade," she said and he wished it wasn't his name. "Sakuya..."--her dying words, gurgling blood and losing the world as it was. No more no more no more. And it was over. Over and memories--memories he remembered only for the sake of her. For her and her inability to keep living because she was already bones--buried somewhere far away--somewhere in the wind where he couldn't visit. Those bones were hers, piled high in his mind and only allowing certain things to trickle through. Certain things like Alisa Donnikova; a woman he should have never crossed. It was regret suddenly regret and yet regretting the regret. He wished he hadn't gone to the bar that night... If he had...he should have never spoke to her. Just walk out Aeries! Even alchemy couldn't rewrite the past. But it was better to have met her.

Because now he knew that love was a mistake.

To play the game and lose--to play it again and lose again, meant to leave the table. He failed. Why? How...? He took away the pain--took away the negative memories. There was no way they could come back--there was just no way for it to happen, unless...unless...they became positive memories. But that--that was impossible. His sunglasses were in her hands now, his eyes collecting the glow of the sunrise like tears. She saw him. All of him. And the rain falling down her cheek told him that she knew. She knew. It hurt. His knees went weak, his energy drained, everything was a blur. Like a wild animal, all he desired was escape--a way out before... "I see something must have happened to your old ones. Nice choice for a replacement." They were back on his face, hiding his own tears, pricking the corners of his eyes and threatening everything he had ever built up in himself--so he could go on. Now, he wasn't so sure--wasn't so sure he wanted to leave anymore. Just...these moments were enough to live the rest of his life. Just...hearing her call him by name made his heart soar. Like this, was it okay not to ask her to pull the trigger? "Spade."

She raised her head, but stopped. He braced himself for anything, feeling mute for once in his goddamned life. So mute, he was sure he had lost his voice forever. Brown met green finally... Finally? It was like relief. She was still there, still knowing him for now... Positive memories... His lip quivered and he felt his breath catch, a vacuum pumping his heart for him because...because he could no longer do it. "I won't force you to. No one should have go through that." No one. Because that was what it took to lose love a second time.

A second time.

"Is.... Is that offer still open?"

"...let's leave Central...together."

Was this happening? Th-that offer. That offer? She... She... Spade wasn't here. He left on a coffee break (but he's actually drinking booze in the back if you want some). "Want some?" Spade blurted out, his voice quivering with emotion and sounding much more pathetic than he had intended it...initially. The container of vodka was shoved towards her, the liquid sloshing as his hand shook. Wh-what the fuck was he doing? Everything was not...there. His words were gone...his heart was bleeding out down his arm and dripping off his fingers that gripped the vodka tightly--tightly until it slipped free and spilled to the ground. And he didn't care...because his arms were around her in an instant. In an instant, his eyes were closed, and if he never saw another thing in his life, he would be happy. Her head buried in his chest, he found himself. Yo, nice to meet you Spade. Where've you been all my life?

Spade fell to his knees, having slipped from her grip and into the snow among his own blood. He threw his face, his head, sunglasses and all into the snow, only finding his voice at the most painful moment. "Forgive me...I..." Oh jesusfuckingchrist it hurt. Oh...why did this feeling exist? How could any person live through this...this pain?! "Is it too late to love you?" It seemed his ass was super glued to this table, win or lose.

[Dai]

A body collided with his, ruining his last sentence. He hadn't seen her run towards him, maybe it was because of the rising sun? "I don't want to see the pain anymore,"Those words resonated within his mind, putting thoughts together and showing everything that he knew to be true. She wasn't standing anymore, he was holding her in mid-air. His hands held onto her, as she did him, and they simply stayed there as the sun rose. Light spread out, the shadow of the night slowly spreading away from the distance. The shadows slowly died out, showing the faces of the dead to the world, yet also hiding them from the darkness that would consume all. Red. It was all red, but this time he did not mind. His clothing was wet with a mixture of tears, blood and snow, but he did not mind. This... was perfect, even through everything. They were in a battlefield, but he didn't mind. They could stay together like this, forever.

Because it feels right.
--because this is what I want.
--because this is who I want... now and forever...

And then... a kiss. It was soft, but it was there. Their lips met, and his face and mind branched out like wildfire. He closed his eyes, letting soft breaths hit her face. He had kissed her before, but this was different. It was as if everything had changed, right then and there. Their lips meeting... this was new for him; as if it was his first kiss all over again. Maybe that's because it was. A kiss, in Dai's mind, was what you received. And as far as he remembered, he had never been the one to receive, only give. So he could say, then, that this was his first kiss. And this kiss, though he had kissed before, brought new fire with it. A feeling that spread throughout his entire body; something that gave him a strange kind of pleasure over all of his body. And then, as quickly as he'd been kissed, she left his face and passed out. He smiled softly and cradled her, placing his head into her hair, ignoring the blood. Even through the smell of blood, Reila's scent came through for him, and he smiled. "Hee... Reila..." The redheaded Alchemist held her close, before suddenly opening his eyes wide. That voice...

"Hello, Amestrians. Do you hear my voice?" That voice... it was Hild. Wh- "I'm glad you do so. It's been so long since I got to hear you all, my wonderful people. Have you forgotten the voice of your wonderful Fuhrer yet? I hope not... it'd make me so sad." Oh, no, he hadn't forgotten the voice of that bitch. "Reila, wake up." He shook her slightly, trying to get her attention and put her out of her stupor. My next words are to all of my wonderful RIOTE troops that I've left in hiding throughout Moscow... come. DESTROY THEM. And Amestris. I'm glad that you survived the night, however your lieu to survive is now null and void. Say your last goodbyes, and just let my men kill you, please~" A crazed laugh followed that, and then explosions occurred as soldiers slowly stood up and out of hiding, surrounding the pair and lifting their rifles. Dai's eyes widened as he clicked the fingers on his left hand and grit his teeth, extending out the barrier of magnetic energy, watching the bullets catch themselves as they fired. It would last a long time, though he couldn't do much else right now. "Fuck... Reila, wake up!" He had to wake her up... he couldn't do anything while he continued to hold her and protect her...

[Reila Tsukino]

"--ck... Reila, wake up!" Dai.

"Mmm..." she purred, shifting her weight onto her toes that where dragging across the surface of the crystally snow. She slipped slightly and fell back into his arms before finally getting her legs to hold up her own weight. "What happened?" Gold perked open, showing itself behind black lashes holding only half the massacre they held before. She swayed slightly and the fuzzy image of black walls drew into focus over the expanse of red.

"Get them; they're the leaders of Briggs!" RIOTE.

"Dai, don't give up."

She was already bleeding so it was okay. Drops pooled under her from Dai, from inside her...mixing together. The bullets all stopped, dropped, and the gaping men opposing them charged. That's right. Against them, metal didn't work. She found herself smirking although Dai looked nervous for some reason. Was it because she had passed out? It was only blood loss--maybe overexertion. It was normal...for them. Raising her eyes into the distance, she saw that the tornado was still raging in her reach. Taking a deep breath, she extended herself into it, ushering it with the change of wind currents to come up behind the hoards of men racing towards them. Within moments, nearly half the force was enveloped in the callings of demise. Fire licked across the snow, tossing rock, pipes, and dead bodies around like rag dolls. The RIOTE soldiers didn't run away. They kept going straight...right at them. Dai was taking care of a ton of them as Reila brought out a new tachi from the ground, swinging sharp wind while taking their blood and freezing them all. Simultaneously she did this, wondering when concentrating had become so easy...

It was so easy...it was scary. How many...people had she killed? She always wondered about their families, but...it was their fault. They chose this. Their families hadn't stopped them from risking their lives. Some things...were more important than life. That was why they were all here right? Some things...in this world had more value than living to see the next sunrise... She blinked away the wetness in her eyes and strode through the collection of dead, watching the tornado skitter across the land and disperse when she parted the wind with a single, final cut of her tachi. Silence fell again, reminding her of the moments before Dai came back. Despite what she said, he...came back. She turned around, hair whipping out around her bleeding body, the tips tickling the air. She found herself running again, metal boots gliding across the snow until stopping right in front of him. She hesitated. It was...easy before. In the building emotion...with the words that were said...it had been easy then... She gave him a struggled expression, screaming everything in her mind. Don't leave me. I never want to be alone. I don't want to go back to that room. I hate killing. Why is this so easy? How many people did I kill, Dai? Dai why are we killing so many of these people that keep coming? What's going to happen to us now? When will this end? Her face was buried into his neck, arms wrapped around his ribs. She pulled away, intertwining their fingers with a nervous, yet determined look. A careful smile traced ghostly fingers across her cracked lips. "Let's rendezvous with the others."

It was time to return to the world. Together.

"This is Lieutenant General Reila Tsukino. I want the coordinates of the meeting place; I need to know the current situation of the tides. Also, has Jayston recovered the homunculus?" Her voice cracked in some places, but other than that she roared with authority. Immediately, a response came.

"Yes the homunculus has been recovered and is on the way to Fort Briggs currently. The gathering of troops appears to be just half a block from your current location. Head east and you'll hit their general area."

"Roger than. Be sure to report to Alex." Reila cut the connection and led Dai straight into the rising sun. For some reason, she had energy again...just holding his hand made her able to raise her head, able to smile, able to look ahead... It was only a short time until they turned a corner and spread out before them was the remains of the Amestrian military. Just...who was winning this war? For once, she wasn't sure.

[Shula Brighton]

Colours all around were changing, lightening as the shadows moved and shade became tint. The little diamonds in Shula's field of vision were starting to lessen at least now that she'd had a moment to catch her breath, but oh dear God she'd fucking love some of Spade's scotch right now. Scotch or tequila, either was faster than pain meds, but right now things just needed to stop hurting enough so she could think. Shula leaned heavily against the wall, feeling completely drained as she slowly looked up, facing away from the gathered troop. Morning... It was morning in Hell. How nice, they had sunrises.

She hadn't really heard Spade run up with Jacko and Robert or the commotion over the radio for a long moment; bleary, distant red eyes were scanning the area around
them. The area seemed safe enough at least, and there weren't any Drachmans or RIOTE soldiers opening fire on them. How many of those bastards were left, anyway? How many of their own men were left? Her fingers kneaded her shoulder lightly, trying to massage some of the pain away to no avail. Heavy footfall and the clacking of guns once more caught her attention finally, Shula turning around. What, NOW?!

"FREEZE! DOWN ON THE GROUND! DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" A woman... A woman in a red skirt and cowboy boots. Her small squad had nearly closed in around her, ordering her onto the ground and urging her to drop her weapon. She wasn't dressed as a militant, and she certainly wasn't Aurel or Hild, so what the hell gave? Spade had run into that part of the street behind their soldiers, neatly penning the woman in. Shula sucked in a breath and shoved away from the wall, dizzy for a moment and hten shaking it off. "Cease fire. That's an order." Spade was ordering them all to stand down after they'd already gone to so much trouble to catch her... Okay, this was just getting confu- What're you thinking? Can't kill a beautiful lady like that. Stop pointing your weapons at Ali--ALLEGATION that's what this is. Jeez. ...Shu, you alright there?" Ah, ever the charmer and rescuer of beautiful women everywhere... Though he was seeming a little off. Then again, who wasn't right now?

Quietly Shula nodded, her eyes still distant and looking everywhere she could without leaving her spot, only glancing back to the people she was with before looking off again. Where WAS he? As the guns lowered and soldiers backed away from Spade and the fugitive woman, a tall young man looked down at Shula, noticing how quiet his boss had become since terrifying the Xingese. "Shula, are you okay?" Ben looked down, wondering if he should step closer in case she toppled over. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't," she sighed as she looked up at the soldier."When I came out of that alley... The young man I was following, where did he go?" Ben blinked, large blue eyes looking rather perplexed as he glanced at Spade, watching the woman start to freak out on him a bit, and then back to Shula.

"...What man? You were alone when you came across the street." That... Couldn't have been correct. Aaron had lead her here from near the Red Square. True, he hadn't come to her aide against the two Drachmans, but she hadn't needed him to. But she was in the alley ahead of her the whole time! She'd heard him... Seeing the look of utter confusion and shock, Ben tapped the shoulder of the man next to him. "Hawes, you were closer than I was. Was someone with Shula when she found us?" Hawes shook his head slowly and swallowed lightly, seeing the little Ishvallan look more irritated.

"I was following my brother- you couldn't have missed him! About your height, his uniform looks all weird and inarguably Ishvallan. It's not like there's a lot of us here to confuse with each other." Hawes and Ben looked at each other, looking slightly worried. Ben stepped a little closer to Spade, unsure if he should ask Spade to relieve the girl if she was hallucinating. Hawes reached out a hand slowly to Shula's uninjured shoulder.

"Ma'am, I assure you, you were alone and nobody was with you.... I think it's just the exhaustion, it'll play tricks on yo-" Hawes' hand was quickly batted away, the fire returning to Shula's eyes.

"I AM NOT CRAZY! I SAW HIM!" The Amestrians around her grew quiet again, unsure if it was just Shula being so out of her environment that was getting to her, grief or what. But she was hardly seeming like herself right now; Shula wasn't known for yelling, threatening and typically was the farthest thing from the type to go off about seeing things that weren't there. Her eyes flitted to those who were now looking at her, and suddenly felt very small, very cold, and very, very much alone. Red eyes shut tightly as she tried to swallow the sudden tightness in her chest that rose up ot her throat. '...I.. I'm sorry." Shula took a few steps back to against the wall where she had been leaning as she slowly looked back up. The beautiful woman was pushing up Spade's shades. She wasn't a fugitive, was she? She knew Spade... intimately. Not that that didn't apply to a lot of women, but this was different. None of Spade's glorious one night stands would be out here in this hell, and certainly none of them, even the ones who came by the office to flirt, were close enough to talk to him with that tone. That was an affectionate tone that meant something. Spade was suddenly dropping his booze and holding this woman, and now on his knees before her. Shula thought to step forward, to find out what was going on and--

Shula looked down and away, trying to calm her racing mind and heart. All she wanted to do was...

Run.

Just wanted to run. Away from where her friends would see and judge. Away from where they would hear her cry and scold herself for letting anger rise and bubble to the top. It was an alien thing to her, and made her feel positively ill; all her life she'd been taught to swallow it. Being afraid and angry would just make you sick, so never ever let yourself feel them and never, never EVER let them come up where they can possibly make people stop loving you. Without even realizing her feet were moving, Shula had begun taking slow, almost unnoticable steps away from the gathered soldiers. Away from the faces she loved so much and yet was so afraid of right now. Away from the friends she'd yelled at, frightened slightly, and didn't deserve.

Run. Now.

A few more steps were taken away from everyone, quiet, zombie-like and the little woman desperately wishing she knew what to do, what to even think. Aaron was alive... he had to be. He was just having to lay low, like Special Ops or something. Nobody saw him because he wasn't allowed to have them see him. That had to be it; Aaron was a Brighton, a survivor by nature, and an incredibly talented alchemist. The way he hugged her last time they saw each other, the way he looked at her. There was no way he would succumb to death easily, and he had to be here... somewhere. Closer and closer to the next block, seeing but not wholly comprehending Reila and Dai approaching the small group of Amestrians and Xingese hand in hand. Suddenly the radio crackled to life with a voice Shula hadn't heard in over a month, freezing her blood in the snow.

"Hello, Amestrians. Do you hear my voice?" Oh, God, Hild... The last time she'd heard Hild's voice was two days before she'd left for South. Smiling, happy, sneaking into the Fuhrer's office to share a pack of vanilla cookies she'd grabbed. To listen to the newest Niveus Corvax album, and tell her that their next toured concert would be in Resembool. To tell the girl who was asked to lead a whole country to take off the next weekend to go with her to the humdrum, sheepcentric town and mosh with her and be decorated in a dozen glowsticks. She'd even found a glowstick trident, just for Hild. "I'm glad you do so. It's been so long since I got to hear you all, my wonderful people. Have you forgotten the voice of your wonderful Fuhrer yet? I hope not... it'd make me so sad." Shula hadn't forgotten. At all. And she remembered a Hild that she doubted anyone else even knew existed. "My next words are to all of my wonderful RIOTE troops that I've left in hiding throughout Moscow... come. DESTROY THEM. And Amestris. I'm glad that you survived the night, however your lieu to survive is now null and void. Say your last goodbyes, and just let my men kill you, please~"

Shula's heart sank as she forced herself to stay standing, all colours blurring in the brilliance of the morning light as hot tears burned down frozen cheeks. The radio button pushed down, and Shula's mouth opened. "Hild.... It's Shula." Her voice was soft and steady, trying to ride on the surface of the heartbreak that was threatening to kill her from the inside out. "I'm very much alive, and still here. You said for us to say our final goodbyes... So I wanted to say mine, just for you, because I'm tired of not getting a chance to say it to people as much as I hate that word. Hild... I know you can hear me, and I know you're still there. This isn't you! Please, Hild... Come back." Her hand reached up, trying to wipe her face on the dark, dirty wool of her coat.

"You were one of my first friends in Central, and one of my closest! You never treated me as just a soldier or a mindless tool. You saw me as something more than just the token Ishvallan part of that stupid integration program! I never saw you as Hild the Fuhrer... Until you told me who you were, I didn't even know what our Fuhrer looked like! I saw a girl who was like me and wanted to be accepted. I loved being with you, and hanging out. I loved listening to your ideas, your dreams! They were beautiful, Hild. I loved the idea of a world where people stopped senselessly hurting each other... But look at history, Hild! Even now, look at what happens! Killing everyone... won't make it better. It won't make pain go away! All it's ever done, all it's doing NOW is hurting us all! Please, Hild... Please... STOP this. I know you can! I know you don't really want all of us to die, do you? Blood only begets more blood. This cycle won't stop until we all CHOOSE to stop it! Look around you! Is this REALLY what you WANT?! Hild, please... You're my friend. I still love you..." A sniffle gave way to a genuine sob that she'd been swallowing, holding herself there against the brick and trying to hide from her peers, until the button was finally released and allowed Shula to exhale the pain she'd been choking on for over a month now.

[Guest]

The looks that he was giving her; they disturbed her. She had wanted him to love her, and he was now looking at her with looks that made her feel sick inside. Did he not see that she was doing everything for him? Did he not see that she was changing, for him? Or was she changing too much? Did Aurel love that little innocent Hild, the one who didn't completely desire destruction on a world-wide scale... What did that mean? Was she changing too much? "Hild, you are going up when we must be going down. It is time to give Nyx her reward." That voice. She didn't recognize it. No, that was Aurel's voice, she knew that much... Closing her single eye, she lowered her gaze down the stairs with a slightly worried look on her face. That was Aurelius, but she didn't recognize him. Why didn't she recognize him? Was it his face? Or was it his aura? Was it that general aura of worry that came from her love? She lowered her gaze further, and followed the man down the stairs with a frustrated, yet forlorn look on her face. Her voice fluttered out into the distance, Hild closing that eye and smiling to herself, "Foolish human emotion... what is it worth? A world to those who care? Or those who don't." She grinned to herself, and her voice didn't speak out. She was only speaking internally, and yet... it felt like all the world would listen to her. Her footsteps clapped silently down the stairs, and she held her head high, as if she was only a queen, in a world of cruelties.

She followed Aurelius, slowly walking, slowly thinking. It was finally here, the day of their greatness coming out to the world. All of that was here, and yet she felt empty. Was it this taking of revenge? This world had forsaken her, and they had forsaken her brother. Alchemy had created her; Alchemy had created Aurel. She chuckled softly and finally reached Aurel, who had traversed the stairs to reach a boy; a boy who was sitting in this darkness. She smiled softly. This boy was new to her, that was for sure. And, as such, she wanted to know more. Her smile lowered as did her gaze, and she chuckled. A circle was laid out before them, one that was used to make the arcane energy known as a Philosopher's Stone. The thing that made them how they were. The thing that had killed Berith. This world... is deplorable. Turning away, she continued up the stairs in front of Aurel, not speaking. He didn't understand. Nobody did... except for Shula. Maybe she was just forcing this. Maybe... the 'real' Hild was that innocent, childish, naive Hild. What if this leader of RIOTE, the one who was supposed to want to 'destroy', was just doing this to please he who she loved? "Heh..." A croaking laugh, and a single teardrop. Humans were cruel. Humans were deplorable. But she loved them. She couldn't bear this death. She wanted death to happen to those who seemed deplorable. But she couldn't do mass... but she had. She had... She had done so... to please Aurel.

"I ignored it all..." ...in order to further her love. Was she really that blind? Reaching up to her face, she placed her fingers tenderly onto the eyepatch, undoing it and casting it off down the stairs behind her. A grim look appeared across her face; Hild showing both the emancipated and normal eyes to the world. "My name... is Hild... Leben Liebhaber Schwarz." Whispers into the darkness, not to be heard by anyone, "I am the leader of RIOTE, codename: Mnemosyne." Footsteps. These quiet footsteps slowly traipsed up the stairway. "I regret... leaving. I regret... killing. I regret it all... but I cannot take back my actions." She was insane; she'd lost it all... but to the point of regaining sanity as a price. "I wished to destroy Alchemy to save the world. Is this real peace, though?" She shook her head. No, it wasn't the peace that she desired. She wanted to destroy the world and rebuild it in a peaceful image, not simply destroy it. "You must destroy to rebuild. I know that much." She swallowed grimly, and nodded internally. She couldn't hear Aurelius anymore. She was reaching the top of the hideout, reaching the command centre. It was time. "But... I must stop this fighting. So to do that much... I will destroy it all. Once these people are dead, then I can broker a peace that's true and long-lasting, free from human corruption..." She nodded to herself, and as the last teardrop fell, she looked at the radio meter before her, and activated it with a face full of dread, speaking into the microphone that accessed Amestrian broadcast. Her hands shook, but she kept her voice stable, speaking into the microphone.

"Hello, Amestrians. Do you hear my voice?" Just that first line. She finally knew the truth. Her own acting sickened her, but she had to stay true to this. Aurelius wanted to see her happy, but if he wasn't happy, then she would never be. "I'm glad you do so. It's been so long since I got to hear you all, my wonderful people. Have you forgotten the voice of your wonderful Fuhrer yet? I hope not... it'd make me so sad." Gah... why? Why was she doing this? Was it for that peace that she so oft desired? She was doing this completely for the sake of peace. That was what she had to affirm in her mind. "My next words are to all of my wonderful RIOTE troops that I've left in hiding throughout Moscow... come. DESTROY THEM. And Amestris. I'm glad that you survived the night, however your lieu to survive is now null and void. Say your last goodbyes, and just let my men kill you, please~" And then she pulled away... and then she cried. That was the first time that she'd let her true emotions free, in a long, long time. She cried for Aurel, and his feelings of self-hatred. She cried for Drachma, the leader lost. She cried for Esparia and it's people that were saddened. But most of all, she cried for Amestris. Hild Schwarz cried for the people that she abandoned. Hild Schwarz cried for the destruction that they had caused... she cried, because she knew that in order to finish this fight, one side was to never go home. For the first time, Hild was that young woman who had taken over the Fuhrer's seat over six months ago...

"Hild.... It's Shula." The radio crackled to life. What... she slowly stood up, wiping her eyes as she did so. "I'm very much alive, and still here. You said for us to say our final goodbyes... So I wanted to say mine, just for you, because I'm tired of not getting a chance to say it to people as much as I hate that word. Hild... I know you can hear me, and I know you're still there. This isn't you! Please, Hild... Come back." She gasped. N-no... that was the truth. She had to remain strong, though. For Aurel. For this peace. "You were one of my first friends in Central, and one of my closest! You never treated me as just a soldier or a mindless tool. You saw me as something more than just the token Ishvallan part of that stupid integration program! I never saw you as Hild the Fuhrer... Until you told me who you were, I didn't even know what our Fuhrer looked like! I saw a girl who was like me and wanted to be accepted. I loved being with you, and hanging out. I loved listening to your ideas, your dreams! They were beautiful, Hild. I loved the idea of a world where people stopped senselessly hurting each other... But look at history, Hild! Even now, look at what happens! Killing everyone... won't make it better. It won't make pain go away! All it's ever done, all it's doing NOW is hurting us all! Please, Hild... Please... STOP this. I know you can! I know you don't really want all of us to die, do you? Blood only begets more blood. This cycle won't stop until we all CHOOSE to stop it! Look around you! Is this REALLY what you WANT?! Hild, please... You're my friend. I still love you..." She swallowed her tears, and stood up straight, staring down at the radio and sighing. Alright... let's do this. Placing her tender fingers onto the radio button, she spoke to Shula... and only Shula.

"I still love you too, Shula. I still listen to Niveus Corvax when I get the chance. I still think about how things could have gone differently, every day of my life." She swallowed loudly and closed her eyes, lowering her head slightly. "You were my only friend, other than Aurelius. Everyone else saw the Fuhrer, but you saw me as for who I was. You didn't change, even when you found out who I was... And I appreciated that. I couldn't face you, Shula. Out of all the people, you were the one I didn't want to face..." She smiled softly, and shook her head. "But I can't change what I did. I can't bring back the dead. I myself am a ticking time-bomb, ready to go at any moment... and I'm happy. Whenever I am at Aurel's side, I'm the happiest that I could ever be." She started to cry again, tears rolling down the side of her face. These tears weren't tears of sadness, but joy. "He wants peace for me... I want him to stay by my side... so I'm happy, because we both get what we want. I'm sorry, Shula, but I've chosen my path." Having finally reaffirmed herself, her voice turned cold. "In order to bring about peace, Amestris must be destroyed. Blood begets blood... but Amestris is the one place that begets the most. I may regret the killings, but I shan't regret that peace. That's why you must all die... So yes, Shula... this is my final goodbye...

I'll never see you again."

[Alisa Donnikova]

He was clearly confused at how she had remembered him, he had even tried to use such a lie as, "Yeah, you're that girl. Alisa, right? You owe me money." What the fuck Spade? Why hadn't she remembered him?! This man... This man who had caused her to abandon everything she had once known, who... When she had seen those two figures before when he had first given his offer, when she had been so... so scared, so conflicted. When she just... Why the fuck hadn't she said fuck it then? Why hadn't she just done it? As she stared at him, she swore... By god, she swore she saw tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Fuck it, she had her own. What had he done to her? Never had she cried like this before. Never had someone caused such a fucking ruckess within her. Never. EVER. In the history of ever! SO WHY THE FUCK HADN'T SHE REMEMBERED HIM?! It had only been the two of them... there....

....Spade? Wh... He... Wh..WHAT THE FUCK. Was he for real? Had... Had he done that to her?! Why?! Why the fuck had he done that?! Her apprehension to his response was overshadowed by a growing indignation, aaaaall that watery emotional shit he was causing beginning to boil. Why Spade? Wh-... And as soon as the rage had come, it was gone. Her stance was entirely relaxed, or at least was mostly relaxed otherwise her bad leg would have given out by now. He had had his reasons. Just like she had reasons of her own for pretty much every fucking thing she had done in her life. And for what? To further her own goddamn survival. Heh... It wasn't like she was the easiest bitch to like, much less lo--... The thought of the word still made her stop. The fluttering in her chest was still alien and barely accepted or welcomed. And yet... seeing him there, seeing those risky tears made her... happy. And how fucking pathetic was it, that she realized she hadn't been this happy in fucking years? Not since long before in her life. Not since the happy, naive years as a child when all was right with the world. Pfft, when HAD it ever been fully right? God fuck cunt.... She was really in love.

Now her concern was back, blinking as he had suddenly finally responded with, "Want some?" The bottle was thrust towards her, and she stood there for a second before busting out laughing. It was just... It was just SO Spade! But she had noticed how it had been said. They were both shaken, they were both afraid, and yet they were both still there. Still wanting to be there. The smell of blood that rolled off of him caused her to be keenly aware of how they were both wounded, chuckling as she started to reach for the bottle. "Fuck yeah. I smashed mine--"

Suddenly the vodka was dropped and before she could even begin to shout, "What the fu-" She was stopped midsentence as he was holding her so tightly, eyes going wide with surprise. He could just flick her rage on and off so fast, as if he could actually control the switch. How.... how could he just enter her solitary life and do that?! Her body had tensed up along with her surprise, but now it relaxed and she felt her head fall forward and press into his chest. God dammit... This felt so warm. Warm amongst the fucking cold of this fucking country.... Fuck this country. Fuck it to hell. She had done her penance, and it had given her back Spade as payment. Fine with her. Just fine. Fuck Hild's money, fuck it if she could never come back. She didn't want to. Shit... What would she do now that she knew she didn't want to really leave Spade? Could she still do her job? Ah, fuck it, she'd figure it out later. Right now... Right now all she really needed to focus on was his arms around her. She even fucking nuzzled into his chest deeper as if she could, sighing heavily as emotions overwhelmed her that she barely knew at all.

He suddenly slipped down her body, collapsing into the snow as he cast away even his sunglasses to the crimson stained snow at her feet. And it... It startled her. Sure, men had thrown themselves at her feet for mercy before. Hell even women had. But Spade? What the fuck was this shit? "Forgive me...I.. Wh-what?! Her cheeks flushed as she felt her pulse increase, the fuzziness that his embrace had brought slipping into confusion. What an odd combination THAT was inside her, let me tell you. "Is it too late to love you?" She stopped and stared down at him at her feet, in the bloody snow, begging for the chance to be able to.... Oh for fucks sake....

She carefully lowered herself down onto her knees, or more accurately a knee as the other forced her to just sit there in the snow with him. Wasn't the first time she'd get blood all over her, and certainly not the last. Her expression? Cool and even, pretty hard to tell if she was either really affectionate, or really pissed. So it was neutral, a hand lifting his head so she could stare him in the eye. Those beautiful green eyes that had captured her soul. And she slapped him across the cheek. "Of course its not you fucking idiot." She snapped at him, instantly leaned forward and kissing his lips that still tasted of alcohol. Heh... They always hinted at alcohol and she didn't mind or care. Her lips were surprisingly tender against his, yet a hint of commandment lingered far in the background while her heart skipped a beat. What a fucking pair they were... Pulling away a moment or so later, Alisa looked him in the eye and steadily pushed herself up, grunting in pain at her leg as she held a hand out to him. "So, we going to blow this city away or what?" She asked with a smirk, all of the overflowing emotions simmering down to a gem within her. They'd figure it out between them, the pair of drunken idiots that they were.

A voice suddenly broke out on her radio, and she knew it to be Hild's voice, her brows furrowing as their moment was fucking ruined. WHAT THE FUCK. It was Drachma. That was the only explanation she could give. Staring away from the man she now knew to love, she listened with a frown on her lips. "My next words are to all of my wonderful RIOTE troops that I've left in hiding throughout Moscow... come. DESTROY THEM. And Amestris. I'm glad that you survived the night, however your lieu to survive is now null and void. Say your last goodbyes, and just let my men kill you, please~" Alisa blinked and turned her gaze back to Spade, alarmed at the orders she was given. Flicking her radio off, she threw it to the snow, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up, offering one to Spade if he wanted it. Drawing in on a puff, she stared back off towards that abandoned building she had found that other Drachman Amestrian and escaped from. "Fuck her. I ain't doing shit. Money ain't worth it." Grinning, she blew out the smoke away from him, knowing the only thing she needed besides booze and smokes, was her Gambit that stood before her.

[Guest]

NOTHING SATISFIES ME, BUT YOUR SOUL!

Feeling fangs puncture his neck, Surealis let out a grasp of air. His eyes widening as the tiny yellow pupils disappeared. Collapsing into his cold handed hold, Surealis did not expect for Aurel to be so dominant and strong. He could feel his tongue trailing along the puncture holes as he continued away. It was to much to handle, slight sounds of pleasure escaped and then just like that he stopped. Yet in Aurels eyes Surealis could tell he wanted more and when he said, "You're good”. At first Surealis struggled to get back on his feet, his energy had basically been depleted however this was a test. He was strong and even though blood sipped through his cloths Surealis got up fine. He was not going to be weak but strong and fight even if he had just been feasted upon.

He walked over to Aurel and looked at him, looking straight through him. Surealis lifted up his hand and touched his wound. He then waved his hand right under his leaders nose! He looked at him and spoke softly, only few could hear and they were the people who were around them. “This blood, it could be yours however I want a stone...” Why did he want it? He didn't even need alchemy however Surealis had his reasons. Many could guess them however, Surealis is not as predictable as people thought. A jack in the box you could say as his goals were more complicated then most thought. Stopping the creation of beasts like him, that was his goal or so people thought. Corruption ran ramped in the world today and what's stopping it from taking Surealis--nothing or maybe it already did...


He looked around at his allies, none of them could be trusted. They were all enemies. Survival of the fittest ran through this world and right now Surealis was in a perfect opportunity to weigh his challengers in. They were strong alright yet the king of beasts was surely stronger. Just then though he made himself back to the middle of the room and coughed a few times.

“Countless hours has gone into this operation and for what? That tiny red stone, people don't fear us but this stone. We should show them the true power of it. We should show them the true power of my brethren. We shall rule the land as a united province, a kingdom where the strong are law and the weak are but just scum.” Such aggression in his voice made others normally tremble a mighty roar was now unleashed as he walked to the basement door. Standing next to it he looked at everyone. With cold, dead eyes.

[Aurelius Schwartz]

Mindless monopolies on the ideals of power--thrust beneath the feet of the morning commuters, stomping endlessly to work just to maintain the life they hate. It shone through the dead eyes that worshiped power over the result--that only saw what was in front of him rather than what came next, turning bent pages and squinting to see the formula for calculating ultimate domination over all others. Impossible, but true. It came to Aurel with the mixture of blood running down his throat, human, but not. He understood that beasts run rampant without a leash--that he himself could easily be one of those beasts--that he himself had just become one. Never before had he taken blood from anyone other than Hild. And in that moment of weakness, he let himself fall before the might of his own nature. As his mismatched eyes festered with the energy of the beast known to him as Surealis, Aurelius finally knew and understood one thing: simply seeking power accomplished nothing. But he had already known that, which was why Aurel never sought more than what he already had; he already had that power. Was it not with how one wields it that determines the end result--that dubs one as powerful? He felt the uncanny smirk paint across his lips as ethereal tones slithered into the confines of interpretation. "This blood, it could be yours however I want a stone...” A bloodied hand ran under his nose that breathed it in and no longer felt anything, for he had already regained control. He was laughing, Aurelius was allowing himself the enjoyment of laughing because it was just so goddamn funny.

"You want beasts to rule this world. But by having one fall to their instincts? Then, my friend, you have already lost. Mindless creatures have no place in the world. Easily..." Cold eyes narrowed into glinting slits of nothing that could ever be considered human--red and blue extending outward into the frozen depths of nevermore. "...could I cut them down. Without...a second thought. And you too, are of that category. Right now, you are hardly thinking." The fangs showed themselves in his teethe grin that could only be described as scary. He snatched that bloodied hand and gripped it tightly, the darkest look crossing his eyes as he stared past Surealis and into the basement where the act was committed. "No, power is not to be shown. Once it is seen, your weakness is also revealed. The weak can become strong, the strong can become weak. Light can become shadow just as night can become day. Speak not your immature desires, and look forward instead of at your feet. Maybe then you will see how truly insignificant you are. Follow me, and you will become more than that." Aurel dropped his hand and turned around, seeing Hild stream past toward the radio tower. Ah, she was about to make the announcement then? He switched on his radio and listened.

She made it--that planned announcement, but what followed made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He felt a hiss escape his throat and the metal handle leading inside bent beneath the grip of a cold hand. "I still love you too, Shula...You were my only friend, other than Aurelius...you saw me as for who I was...I can't change what I did. I can't bring back the dead. I myself am a ticking time-bomb, ready to go at any moment...Whenever I am at Aurel's side, I'm the happiest that I could ever be...He wants peace for me... I want him to stay by my side... so I'm happy, because we both get what we want...I may regret the killings, but I shan't regret that peace."

Naive... He never thought his Hild to be naive--he never thought her to cry over something he did. That's right, he caused this. The gold metal moaned under his grip, the force of it cracking the perfect sheen of glass. Aurel stared blankly through the clear, see-though imperfection that was the only thing separating them. He slammed the door open until it shattered and looked down on her. He looked down on her and no longer cared that she was his reason for being here. Not here, but among the living. She was it. She was all Aurel had. And he was looking down on her. When...had her dream become his own? When had he stopped trying to jump out windows and pull the trigger with one last careless smile? When had detonating the bombs brought him pleasure? Human lives meant nothing to him. To him, but had he ever thought that they meant something to her? Was he sorry? Did he now regret it because of the words she was sharing through a radio wave...that were meant for someone else's ears other than his own? No. He just simply heard it--just simply heard it all. Past the declarations of power droning from Surealis' mouth, he heard it... "I regret... leaving. I regret... killing. I regret it all..." It made him sick. "Is this real peace, though?" I don't know is it, Hild? He said it all with one look. One look of her betrayal. But he voiced nothing to her. Nothing at all before he turned around and walked out. He returned to the main hall and stopped in front of the door. Blank. Emotionless. He felt nothing--nothing but the gnawing pains of finding out that you don't know the person you love.

He had known she was acting with the crazy smiles, the insane laughter that ran shivers down his spine expressly because it wasn't Hild. Oh, he had known, but this...this was news. News that when the TV turned on, made one turn it right back off and proceed to wallow in the joys of remaining ignorant. It was too late. Too late to go back. It made him angry. This is what you wanted. This is want you asked me to do. And I did it. I did it for your sake. I enjoyed it for your sake. So what is this?! Why are you not voicing your desires to me--why dare you keep silent as I make myself a demon--a murderer to satisfy you. Is all that for naught? Is my existence a waste? He felt it now, the sweet melody of self-loathing, coaxing him to draw out the gun in his pocket and pull the trigger. The gun...Hild finally trusted him to carry. Now wouldn't it be fun to betray that trust? To fall down to what he once was and die. Die...finally without failing? To defy his master plan himself before any other achieved the honor. It was music--music he almost believed. But defying the master plan was a little more complicated than pulling the trigger: it was impossible.

The door opened. He walked through and outside; the helicopter was waiting for him. He already knew. Despite so many RIOTE casualties, he already knew that they were winning, and he doubted the opposing side had any idea that only a handful of them were left. To do this much, he didn't need Hild. She was no longer needed. If killing pained her so, if his existence was a sin to her, then he would make blood rain peace down upon the world before he let himself die. Finally die. Because that was what she wanted. The helicopter took off. He had been planning to go alone from the beginning. He pressed his radio button, connecting to only Vanity. "So tell me, sister. Does that label ring true? As you well know, I was adopted. The prospect of blood-siblings is not impossible. But first let me confirm with you that your side of the plan must now be carried out. Hild is useless. Bring about your allies, one of which was Envy I believe. Meet me at the Kremlin. A helicopter waits for you. I hope you like the design. It was stylized to fit your liking." He cut the line, not waiting for her to answer. They would talk when she reached him. And then, maybe she would answer his question.

The aircraft touched down on a landing pad not far from the assembly of those remaining. Hoards of RIOTE soldiers filed out from underground--under Aurel's feet once he stepped down from the helicopter. They went ahead to attack and Aurel stormed behind them, brandishing his trident like the god of not just the sea, but of everything. His eyes were glowing with the power resonating within him--souls crying out as everything they were went into the creation of everything that wasn't. A black hole sucked away the light, erasing the present. Amestrian soldiers and Xing alike became nothing as they marched through, leaving not even a body to be buried.

[Guest]

This was a madhouse. A ridiculous place. War. What was his purpose? Kill - Destroy - Protect. Obliterate - Annihilate - Preserve . . .

He was Hei. No . . . he was Feng. Nein! He was Bai. Nyet!! He was Jin! What was he? What was he doing here?! All he remembered was that he had been tending to a wound, and now, atop a couple floors in a ruined building, here he was with a poor soldier who had all his limbs ripped off and flesh stripped off by serrated, shark-like teeth. A poor man who had died from his head being smashed into a pulp through concrete, and had each rib ripped out of his person and gnawed into talcum powder.

'What am I doi- ... Ahhh, yes. That's right. I was eating.' Hei ponders for a moment as he chews, then the epiphany that he was devouring a corpse was shortly followed by a welcome swallow of a mouthful of shredded muscle, torn tendon, mashed flesh, ground bone and skewered heart. This was probably good enough, the poor man had had his entire chest cavity chewed upon, most of his organs had been devoured while the blood flowed freely and had been splattered around. Oh, and there were no limbs, still, seeing as how they had been chewed up.

The Xing-clad-in-Black had taken quite some time. It had been roughly a half-hour since when he began dressing his wounds and feasting. Now his victim looked like the remains of an interrupted meal of carrion eaters, what with half-eaten body parts, and plenty of other missing pieces, while he had . . . somehow bandaged his scorched right arm. His uniform and armor had been replaced as well, that was the glory of hiding caches of equipment in certain areas of Moscow: He had done this a lot when insurrectionists and rebels that he once been the glorious Communist Party, started armed conflicts in the streets. Now, it really paid off here, seeing as he was now in fresh attire. None of this blood-stained, smoking or ashen equipment.

Though, one thing DID bother him. The fact that he was moving so ... strangely. That Brigadier General's attack was still leaving nasty aftereffects. Fortunately, the majority of his body functioned like normal with occasional lapses or involuntary movement, but his right arm was now reaching the point of being entirely non-functional. In short, it had spasms ... lots. It would start, completely involuntarily, shifting between Human form and Animal form, randomly causing scales and claws to sprout. Either way, it was getting to be nuisance, and Hei honestly considered lopping off that arm.

Until he donned his radio set, trying to find any allies. This was one whose channel was tuned to that of the Drachman military. He had the Central trooper/corpse's also, but honestly, he couldn't make any use of it at the moment. It was, however, hilarious to be hearing in on their progress, sounds of elation, fear, anger, and confusion emanated from the device, but he kept it down to a minimal level, considering its value to be minimal. Instead, hefting his second large weapon, the one that was iconic for him when he wanted to kill, he proceeded back into the battlefield.

- - -
Entering Battlefield, East Moscow – Five minutes later.
- - -

It didn't take long. He soon found an unfortunate Platoon who were miserably and utterly lost in how to retaliate. The sad news that Amestrian forces were spilling in from the East (as well as all the other directions) was highly distressing, but Hei did not mind. He had done as much as he could on his own, now it was time to try to see what he could do, as part of the force itself.

They had penal troops … lots of them. In fact, a whole company’s worth of them: Roughly one hundred and eighty something fellows that were prisoners, once upon a time … some political, some felons, and some POWs.

‘No comes the time, where the fools can prove themselves worthy of Mother Drachma … it has come to this! We shall purge these wondrous lands of these blight-wrought fools.

- - -
East Moscow Advance Team, Company of 210 men, Amestris
- - -

They had been fortunate, under the careful guidance of Colonel Jakyll. He had quite the peculiar surname, and many feared him for it, but contrary to all the rumors, the Colonel was actually quite the lively and compassionate man. And not too shabby in the tactics department, also. Thus far, they had multiple sorties with the defending Drachman troops, and with next-to-no casualties, practically forced their way into Moscow.

Now? It seemed that, given they had superior firepower and significantly more experience than the average Drachman soldier, this war was going extremely well in their favor. Presently, garrisoning building by building, the advanced ever closer to the Kremlin: their intended objective. Any and all opposing forces were neutralized with impunity.

Yes. This war was going favorably . . . it seemed.

Until the Kremlin exploded into a massive tower of flame and metal, as one of the Drachman airships had crashed into it. This, after one of their own airships, from Briggs, had been shot down as well.

”Ho~ly shit!!” the Colonel swore in the most discomposed manner, while his men looked on. Fortunately for him, a good friend of his lightly tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention away from the billowing smoke and flames that had once been the Kremlin, and their objective. ”Well … now what?” he later mutters, after regaining focus.

”I think our next objective is to rout RIOTE out of Moscow . . .” his good friend, a Major (and State Alchemist), comments … unhelpfully.

”Right. Right. And … we’re going to comb every square centimeter of Moscow to find them? Geez, as if! It’d take us weeks to eventually FIND them, much less force them out!”

They were at an unfortunate crossroads, now, given that they were taking cover within the buildings, debating the next best tactical move . . . presently, they had nothing to fear, as no Drachmans seem willing to approach them. Actually, the fact that they hadn’t encountered much was highly unsettling, but . . .

So, they decided to just … well, now they needed to expel RIOTE, and given that the Kremlin was down, they now needed to take care of any hide-outs the organization might’ve had. So, for about a half-hour more, deeper into the night, they continued to search and destroy. Any Drachman they found was systematically shot, all buildings in their way were swept to confirm no activity and garrisoned until the next was checked.

Presently, they were holding position. No sign of RIOTE, and many dead Drachmans laid in their wake . . . the Colonel and the Major were taking a moment to consider which direction to go now, coordinating their movements with other divisions, to insure the hunt for RIOTE remained as spread and effective as possible.

”Enemy sighted at 12, approximately sixty meters away . . . “ their radios crackle to life, as the selected marksmen keeping watch noted the activity. How unfortunate for them, an additional pair of ears not of their own was listening in, but … how could they have known? ”They … don’t appear to be armed. Orders, sir?”

The Colonel did not take this news well. There was no guarantee that this wasn’t some sort of trap . . . what could they do? . . .

”Our objective is clear, men. We are to eliminate RIOTE’s presence from Moscow. Until we can confirm RIOTE no longer has a threshold in this city, any and all Drachmans we encounter will be treated as hostiles . . . . . . Neutralize the enemy. Now.” the Colonel firmly declares aloud over the channel, to his men. They couldn’t spare mercy for their enemy: For the enemy intended to bring mayhem into the world. That, unfortunately meant that, until the war was over, anyone that stood in their way had to be killed.

- - -
Approximately 20 meters away from the Company’s garrison . . . In the Shadows.
- - -

Beneath his mask, the Xingese-Drachman smiled widely. Yes. The Amestrians were responding just as he had anticipated. They were not foolish. No, they were cautious. Wary. He had heard their commanding officer’s orders, as well … and that was what he needed to make this work . . .

”This is Captain Jin. Amestrian troops are behaving as predicted. Send in the whole company, now . . . And I mean, RIGHT NOW.” he orders, softly. The men on the other side know what he means and hasten to follow his orders . . .

Hei Jin, adorned in black, slipped back once more, just as gunshots rained out, killing the poor unarmed penal troops. Poor, poor men, a single rank of them, with about fifteen lined up. Not one lived after the Amestrians opened fire, as forced by Hei

(27 + 15 = 42)

- - -
Amestrian Company, Garrison, 210 men. The Colonel and the Major.
- - -

”All commies down and dead, sir!” comes the reply after several bursts of gunfire added to the chaotic ambient noise, of destruction in this city.

”Alright. We’ll be splitting up the company into three. Phrase here is ‘Divide and Conquer’. We’ll be splitting up back to your old platoons, I’m in-charge of the first, Captain Krauser is head of the second, and our very own bona fide Human Weapon’ll take care of the last”

”No matter how many more times you make that joke, it’s not going to get any more funny, you know?” the ‘Major’ snarked back, veins already throbbing at the overused quip used by practically EVERYONE in the military concerning State Alchemists. Honestly, equating them to walking WMDs was really a huge nuisance, since no one would ever shut up about it. Ever. The Major went off, annoyed, but eventually just shaking his head and laughing it off (on the inside) while the whole company began to split apart. A certain Xingman was smiling even wider, that the seams of his mask were about to tear at this event.

- - -
Second platoon, Amestris. 70 men – Captain Krauser.
- - -

They had the misfortune of going straight down the street that the penal troops had come from (not that they knew those men were mere prisoners-turned-soldiers). The Captain, for reasoning still unknown to anyone, wished to get closer to the Kremlin. To him, his logic went in this fashion: RIOTE’s hideouts can’t possibly stray too far from the center of political power in Moscow. So, a number of them would be close-by. That, and he was a bit perturbed at the small group of Drachmans that had approached them. It was little more than a squad, and they had just been shuffling forward, in a single rank: THAT highly perturbed the Amestrian Captain.

So, while the first and third went on to other streets, the Second barreled down, guns at the ready. They were an attentive lot.

Hei still was ready for them. He had … forty five more? Yes. Forty-five more. . . . The moment that platoon had reached the first fifteen corpses, forty-five more warm bodies lumbered from around the corners, marched out of the buildings, jumped out the windows, emerged from the abandoned vehicles or from behind them. Forty-five unfortunate Drachmans, Amestrian, Cretans, Xingese. Poor souls who were captured, imprisoned, or just caught up in this whole mess.

And not one of them was armed.

The Captain was perturbed. Very much so . . . His men were checking the area, insuring that no more ambushes had been set up, while each gave a wide berth to the corpses. The first fifteen had been blindfolded and wearing nothing much more than raggedy prison cloths . . . the other forty five had shoddy clothing as well, but lacked that blindfold . . .

’… What on earth … ?’ was the Captain’s sole thought as he knelt down to one of the corpses, noticing there was something off about it. There seemed to be some sort of bulge, a rectangular shape jutting out from behind one of those fifteen. . . . . . He gently moved the cloth, and found what appeared to be-

- - -
Atop a neighboring building – Hei.
- - -

Like shooting fish in a barrel. The Amestrians were all in close proximity of the corpses. The Drachman, clad in all-black, chuckled to himself, as in his left hand held a detonator. . . . Just as Captain Krauser checked one of his men, Hei just simply depressed the switch upon the device.

. . .

Sixty corpses, laden with substantial amounts of explosives (and fortunately had not be set off prematurely, for these had been placed in uncommon target areas) light up the night sky of Moscow. Explosions rattle and shatter glass, causing the alarms of abandoned vehicles, not wrecked by the blasts themselves, to simultaneously deploy. Amestrian troops are blown to smithereens, reduced to smoldering and bloody chunks of their former selves. Well, the lucky ones were blown apart. The unfortunate few were blasted aside, scarred by the searing flames and shrapnel caused by each and every detonation, doomed to die of blood loss.

Well, not that they’d get a comfortable death, as Hei descended down from his hiding spot. And gave each one a bloody execution of dismemberment by chainsaw. Every scream of agony they gave him, only fueled his monstrous desire to force them into great pain, as he gently let his iconic bladed weapon cut through them, and every last bit of them.

(42 + 45 exploded Penal Troops + 70 exploded Amestrians and a Captain Krauser.)
(157 w/ Captain Krauser)

- - -
Platoon 3, Amestris . . . Seventy Men. The Major.
- - -

They weren't that far away, when the explosion sounded. As if that wasn't bad enough, their radios had picked up on that, as a member of the second platoon had been reporting how the enemy seemed to be ... well ... unarmed and clearly not regular members of the military. That transmission had been cut off mid-sentence by the explosion, which naturally left a horrid and absolutely dreadful impact.

The Major was quick to try to hail their teammates. "Second Platoon. Come in! This is Major Aldarin! Please respond, second platoon . . . . . Captain Krauser? Captain?! Lieutenant Alex!! John? . . . Marcus? . . . . . . Anyone?"

Silence. Not a single sound of response. The Major's panic wasn't unique. Everyone currently under his command was afraid of what had become of their allies. No, what had become of their friends . . .

"Major." comes a solitary voice. It is the voice of the Jakyll, calling out to his best friend. A pause is given, as the Major confirms his presence. "Move. NOW. We're checking up on them, right this moment. On the double." his voice is no longer kindly, with it's usual lightness. It was a voice of fear, as well as hate. There was no doubt in any of the men's mind what that explosion and their comrades' radio silence meant, no matter how much they wanted it not to be, they were not foolish.

As quickly as they could, while doing their best to not blindly and recklessly rush, the once-split company tried to gather at where a third of their men should have been . . .

- - -
Remains of the Second. Amestrian troops - 140 men, Colonel Jakyll. Major Aldarin.
- - -

It wasn't quite like anything they were expecting . . . Scorched earth, some flames still around. Blood and debris all over the place. Only a handful of corpses were intact, but were horrifically mutilated and lacked any resemblance to a human being. This was definitely an iconic image of a warzone, but far more hellish. The snow and ice were either melted, stained crimson from the remains, or dirtied by the ashen or fragmented bits of ... buildings?

"My god ..." one random fellow says what's on everyone's minds concerning those few corpses that were still ... mostly whole. Those had been sliced up into pieces. In fact, now that they had a chance to take a closer look, none of the corpses were intact: They'd all be severely sliced and torn apart by something.

A gunshot rings. Actually, it wasn't really a gunshot. More like a whole stream of gunfire starts hailing down at the Amestrians who had gathered there on the street. Fortunately, the Drachmans who were firing from within the buildings were not in the ones that were directly to the left and right of the Amestrians! Unfortunately, those buildings had suffered some structural damage due to the explosives and Hei was hidden in one of them. Yes. Hei was sitting inside one of the buildings, waiting for Amestrians.

The Colonel and Major slip under cover beside the building, not having the time to enter it, given how several men were shooting at them and primarily focusing fire at the entrances to either building in the first place. They were joined by anyone else who also wasn't fortunate enough to slip inside.

"DAMN. Never expected this sort of shit suddenly happening." the Jakyll curses, rifle brought level. He's debating about poking around the corner and getting a shot off, but ... then again, that'd be a foolish thing to do given that he didn't even know exactly where the Drachmans were firing from. "We might actually be a little bit screwed right now, seeing as there's no one close enough to really help . . ."

"Well, just in case I don't get a chance to say it later. 'Twas an honor serving with you, sir" the Major pips half-satirically, though there is a sense that not all of them here was going to survive tonight. The Major was donning whatever it was that funny gear he had, for his alchemy. Seemed to be transmutation circles on gloves, simple stuff. But he only busted out his alchemy gear when planning something drastic, or felt that the situation was indeed life-threatening.

"DUMBASS! Don't say something like that, it's like we're all going to die or something. Sheesh."

"Hey, hey! I was just joking."

"And you accused me of having bad tastes in jokes . . ."

"Only because you do, sir."

"Touche ... ... . . . . . ." the witty banter ends here, as both men simply wait out the shots. For all they knew, the Drachmans were firing like mad at them, but there was no way to confirm that the gunfire didn't come from their own troops as well. Ah, well. Best method was to wait it out a bit. They'd need to eliminate the enemy, but first they'd have to wait long enough for the idiots to forget they were even here in the first place. 'Sides, they had some remains here to tend to, for their fallen brothers.

. . . . . . . . . . . It's been five minutes. Do the Drachmans have chainguns?! And plenty of ammo to feed that chaingun? That, or there was a mass shootout between their guys and those guys, which, according to what was being said across their channel, that seemed to be the case. The Jakyll takes a quick moment, seeing how this is just, probably, the last of their reprieves. One really quick moment to look at a photograph. He'd heard stories, hell, he'd read novels and the sort that the sappy soldier who showed off their family photos were among the first to die. Now, he didn't quite believe any of that bull, but at the same time, he wasn't really signalling the fact that he was taking a quick look at the last image he had of his loved ones, thus far.

Standard photo, wife and kids. Though ... such a gesture doesn't go unnoticed by his friend, the Major. He knows. He knows plenty. He knows about the problem of impotence between them, that the two adorable young ones are theirs, legally ... but not in any other way. He knows how much his friend and commanding officer is afraid. That no matter how much he know he does this to protect their futures, he's still afraid of what might happen, and that he may never see them again.

" . . . Hey. Don't worry ... We're going to get out of this alive." the Major states plainly, firm in his declaration. . . . The madman grinning above their heads disagrees.

Down came tumbling: A body. A dead man, dressed in raggedy clothes. An Amestrian POW, judging by the wrinkled and shredded remains of the corresponding uniform, but a sack had be tied around his head. All the men present were shocked at the sudden arrival of a corpse, falling from above, so much that a few fired a couple shots at it for safety's sake. . . . While they cursed, and wondered as to how in the name of Hell did this corpse come out of nowhere, a cackling voice fills the air. A wild, maniacal bout of laughter, emanating from within the building . . . and all around, dozens of poor men, armed with sticks, are creeping up on the Amestrians, while about every five or six of them was flanked by an armed Drachman soldier.

- - -

Oh Hei . . . he found this hilarious. Yes. He found this oh-so-hilarious. While he pressed down on the trigger, and let the men whose bodies carried armed explosives be reduced to nothing.

.

Once more, independent of artillery raining down from the South and airships crashing here and there, explosives lit up the night. The buildings, already deteorating from the first salvo, promptly started collapsing after the second batch . . . In fact, Hei had left a couple of dead ones on the ground levels, just to make sure the structures would collapse sooner.

(34 Penal troops exploded + 7 Drachman militants . . . and 93 Amestrians dead via explosion or by structural collapse. 157 + 134 = 291 + Krauser)

- - -

Forty-five of them left, not counting himself or the Major . . . God, what a horrible turn of events. The Colonel had unfortunately been caught by the explosion, also, but his burns weren't as serious as some of the other survivors. Not to mention, at least one guy died right there and then. But, seriously. 'Who the **** drops a corpse out of a building with explosives attached to it?!?!'

Ninety-one. Ninety-one more walking bags of meat emerged. The poor Colonel didn’t have time to get an answer, as the demon watched from above, coordinating the remaining resources he had left. Ninety-one men, with sacks draped over their heads, came running down the streets, as the remaining Amestrians coalesced into one group. One hundred and forty and then some more bullets were quick to dispatch them, fired hastily from the remaining Amestrians, fearful that these men were laden with explosives as well.

In their panic, they failed to realize that a living shadow had descended from a window, and was now hidden in the darkness to their side. Well. Not for long, now. The sound of a roaring engine caught their attention, but not soon enough: Hei had already gotten the first strike.

(91 + 3 + 291)
(385)

”HIYAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!” the maniacal bout of laughter went around, once more. There was not an ounce of mercy to be spared. Just as these fools would not spare even the slightest thought of mercy to them, Hei was going to give them none as well. It was much too easy . . . there was always a pause, not one noticeable to the average person, but surely to the battle-hardened lot and also ridiculously powerful few. A slight break, where the gun is raised level, to insure that the hail of bullets is directed towards the right target, instead of an ally. It was child’s play to avoid a head-on burst of gunfire.

-

What … was he? A silhouette of a man … no, not a man. A monster. It was a monster with some wicked implement of death. And it was … KILLING … HIS … MEN! That went the hateful thoughts of the Colonel, as he brought his primary firearm to bear, intending to fill this blasted Drachman full of lead . . . but the gentle clicking noise that followed told him, he could not empty a whole magazine for it was already empty.

’… Shit!‘ his mind panics. For him, it would take too long to draw a fresh batch of bullets. No, it would be better to draw out his handgun. Yes, that was the correct choice of action. This monster was still just a man, any gun could put him out of his misery!

’… Shit!!‘ the Jakyll is panicking, he knows that death is drawing ever closer, with each swing of that … blade? What WAS that? Pistol drawn, he decided to put that question out of his mind and instead blow out the brains of the enemy. It wasn’t hard, his weapon had got stuck in one of his men and now he stood there for a moment, only a couple meters away trying to draw out the … thing … God bless the poor man’s soul, who gave him this opportunity.

And a solitary gunshot rang, followed by Hei’s head jerking back a bit, as it struck him dead on. The Drachman stumbled a bit, left arm still gripping his blade (which finally came free). The men around held their breaths for a bit, suddenly realizing that their commander had just shot this beast . . .

’… Holy Shit!‘ the joyous thought comes. The shot had made it! They had kil-

A high-pitched squeal resounded after the silence had fallen, which had merely been the hefty chainsaw, weight at several hundreds of pounds, being thrown at a blinding speeds. It was thrown horizontally level, or at least close enough . . . That it was now coming to lop off the Colonel’s head.

’… Oh … shit …‘ the last thoughts came, cursing that the Drachman’s last actions would also claim his life. God, what was he supposed to do now? . . . Survive, of course.

His good friend was a much more agile and acute person then he was, and seeing as how Jakyll was going to die, the State Alchemist refused to let that chain events occur. How? By knocking him down, or more accurately tackling him out of the way, screaming “DODGE!” and thinking ‘You IDIOT!’ And lost his left arm for his trouble. He had planned on getting them both out of harm’s way, but … well … an arm was a good price to pay to save a friend.

Well, not that he saved many people, as three more soldiers met the sharp, short end of the stick as they were impaled with vicious prejudice in a row.

(388)

Hei, meanwhile, just plucked the bullet out of his head . . . More specifically, his mask had plenty of covering to make sure the bullet didn’t strike his flesh with full force, but … at the same time, the reinforced skull of his, yet again, suffered minimal damage, stopping the bullet from puncturing through and reaching his grey matter. Now, how terrifying is it to see a man wield an enormous chainsaw effortless cut down your friends, who dodges bullets with relative ease, take one right to the head … only to be completely unfazed and picks it out with these enormous, black-colored claws from his right hand?

Answer: They didn’t want to stick around. Not one of them. The rallying cries for them, were to “Fall Back!” and take cover, while they rotated who kept laying down fire so that this black monster would not chase them. Hei, being the amused soul he was, did not pursue. No, his first concern was reacquiring his chainsaw, which he did after flinging a knife from his sleeve to claim another victim …

-

The Drachman hadn’t followed. Thank God. They were down the street, taking cover behind rubble and cars, the Major had a bound stump for a let arm … and a large throwing knife imbedded right into his right shoulder. . . . Perfect, now both his arms were useless. This was a fan-fucking-tastic day. Things had gone so well, they’d suffered next to no casualties. Now, there was … … forty-one of them, altogether. Though, only forty of them could actually fight.

”Just my god-damned luck . . . “ the Major mutters. Well, at least things couldn’t get worse? They had allies coming in. Or at least, when they gave a spastic damage report, they got reassurances that help was on the way. Soon, this mess would be resolved, soon this mess would be-

More bullets. Drachman militants at ground level, down the street, poking out of windows or out of the buildings to fire at them. PERFECT! Just as they had stopped panicking about the Drachman in black with a giant/oversized chainsaw, these fuckers wanted to play! Left, right, left right. The bullets fly … and Hei, from atop the ruins (still pretty high up in comparison to ground level) merely chuckles at the sight. His own unfortunate platoon didn’t have enough bullets … or well, didn’t have good enough guns to thoroughly outshoot their enemies. They’d die. But then again, they were cowards who had fled immediately from the edge of Moscow when the Amestrians appeared. Such cowards had no place in the glory of Mother Drachma, and if they fled again

”I’LL KILL THEM MYSELF!!” goes the wicked thought, while the twin radiosets he had crackle. One issues out statements in Drachman, the other in Amestrian. It was so amusing to know which side was doing what. Though, Fifty-three poorly armed Drachmans against forty (and one invalid) Amestrians was nowhere close a fair match.

(388 + 53 + 9 = 450)

”Or not. They got wasted so fast … ah well, such a pity …” the Xingman was displeased, as he rummaged in his … what was he wearing atop the body armor? Was it a Drachman uniform or was it some sort of jacket? Either way, he fetched out a third, silver-colored device. Like the previous two, tubular in shape, to conceal a small little red switch inside. This was the last one he had, really. After this, he had no resources but his own weapons and self. But wasn’t it all so productive? The Xingese-Drachman grips this device, after confirming he still had it, … and takes a soaring leap, aided by his ludicrous strength to push him out further than a normal person could manage.

-

God. They’d gotten luck that so few of them was dead. The Colonel was now officially unnerved. Within less than a half-hour, their entire company was now reduced to less than a fifth. This, after they had been doing so well. . . . What happened?

”Colonel Jekyll … don‘t look so down. The men are already scared out of their wits as it is.’ comes the acrid voice of his friend. Well, at least he had a point, he, and all of them, had to stay strong. They had to hold out until reinforcements arrive. Which could take anywhere from ten to twenty minutes, or essentially an eon to infinity.

” . . . Right . . . Right . . .” he speaks, a bit … lost? No. He was concerned and attentive, but at the same time, that overwhelming fear from before, when he had snuck a final look at that photo, was returning. All-consuming, instinctual fear, that his life was at an end.

‘Baaaaaaah! When did I turn into a superstitious kind of guy? Hell, she might slap me silly if she ever found out I actually thought about this!’ He sighs. A forlorn gesture, wanting to get away from this madness. The name of his beloved and his joys cross his mi-

. . .

What was wrong with him? Why was his friend sputtering and falling back, point behind him? Wait. There was something behind him, wasn’t there? No one else was paying attention, at least at the moment. His mind, still in a reverie about his family, it didn’t occur to him that they’d be under attack by the being that would be known as “Drachma’s Monster of the East.” So, it did not occur to him, nor did it register clearly in his mind, as he was bifurcated vertically, splitting his body symmetrically.

(451)

They were turning. To face him! Fools. This one time, he let his twitching right arm wield the chainsaw, and unfortunately, due to it’s spasm, it wasn’t as clean a cut as he would have liked, but ah well. His left hand was curled around the detonator. Three guesses as to what happened next. The first two don’t count.

Ninety-one cold bodies became bastions and harbingers of fire and brimstone.

(481)

And it was done . . . All done. There was, one fool though. One man left alive. The fellow whose arm had been sliced off. And the other arm had the knife stuck through it (though now removed). Yes, he was unlucky to not have died. His eyes were wide in shock, a sort of haze in them, as he tried to process what had just happened. Everyone … everyone he knew was dead, now? The poor man did not realize that Hei had moved behind him . . . It wasn’t until he felt a tug on his leg that he momentarily returned to reality.

”Y-you! YOU FUCKING MONSTER!! WHY?!?” he yells, followed by a string of expletives. Unfortunately, he lost the ability to speak rationally, as he planted a boot on his back … and pulled on his left leg with unyielding force. Pulling until it was torn off of him, which brought a high-pitched (almost feminine) screech of pain.

”Because. You are the enemy. Enemies … are to be. Brutally! TRAMPLED! UPON! BY! ANY! MEANS! NECESSARY!!” he emphasizes each word of the second half of his last sentence, with a forceful, crushing stomp against the poor man’s back. That was about when Hild’s broadcast occurred. A voice he faintly recognized, but could not remember why. . . . She wanted the extermination of the Amestrians in Moscow. Brilliant, but why now, instead of sooner? The broadcast lasted a decent minute or two, long enough for his final victim to try to drag himself away, using whatever was left on his body, howling in agony at every single movement.

The Drachman had abandoned his chainsaw, after it had cut their commanding officer. Right now, it lay there on the ground, purring the ever-so-delightful harmony of death. So, out came his shotgun. Still with only one round chambered. Hei merely grinned wickedly, as the Major tried getting closer to his friend, muttering a single word … that sounded like ‘No‘? His progress was hindered by a shotgun blast, a single lead slug, burrowing into his back, puncturing whatever organs had not yet been ruptured by the impact of Hei’s blows.

”Was he a good friend of yours?” the Xingese smiles ever so delightfully, as his question elicited a pained but still savage snarl from the last one. Hei merely kicked him in the side, so that he’d roll over. So that the puny Amestrian would see how he would die.

”Any last words I can give to your comrades?” he asks, even behind that single-tone mask, one can see his smiling oh-so-wickedly. Too much pleasure was being derived from this, as he raises a boot, over the head of his invalid enemy.

”Go to Hell.” were his famous last words.

"Certainly. But, after you." went Hei's response, as he reduced the head of the Amestrian to nothing more than fragmented bones, flesh and blood.

(482)

. . .

"This is Captain Jin, of the Drachman Red Army. In-charge of former Penal Company 23 and Kremlin Defensive Platoon 6. I am without soldiers. There are still Amestrians coming in from the East. Anyone close by the following coordinates, please take heed that the Amestrian offensive has not been halted. Location of-" He rambled on a bit, trying to give a status report, an explanation of sorts. As much as he knew RIOTE would be more than capable of cleaning up the Amestrians, the Drachman military still needed to fight. This WAS their damned revolution, after all!

"Long live Mother Drachma." he says plainly, ending his transmission, and pretty much ignoring anyone else that spoke after he said that. For now he took the Amestrian radio.

"HIYAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! WE! ARE DRACHMA!! You silly Amestrians, thinking you can defeat us!? THE GLORY OF DRACHMA IS THROUGH THE MILLIONS OF PAIRS OF FEET THAT WILL MARCH FORTH AND DRIVE YOU TO THE GATES OF HELL!!

WE! ARE!!

And there is nothing ... NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!

NOT A SINGLE DAMN THING!!!

YOU!!! All of you: ARE GARBAGE. Prepare to DIE!!!!"

Anyone unfortunate to be connected to the Amestrian general channel had their ears promptly split by the bellowing, almost ground-shaking cackle and declaration of annihilation that issued forth from their radios. Considering that the former Fuhrer's voice was much more calm, despite being extremely cruel and cold, this was a fiery voice straight from the bowels of hell. No melody, no harmony. Just sheer cacophony.

And Hei then smashed the radio so as not to bother. After all, while he made his own little declaration, Drachman troops were drawing in on his position ... Yes. Today was a good day for War.

War is nothing. War is Everything. It is the great equalizer. It the source of all chaos and imbalance.

He lived it, breathed it, dispensed it, ended it, ate it, prolonged it. He enjoyed it. War is everything. And until the day was done, he would continue to enjoy war.

-EXIT MISSION-
Goes on to direct troops to slaughter Amestrians,
while overall not engaging in general combat.

Final Killcount: 482 men. Amestrians, Cretan, Drachman, Xingese. Soldiers, POWs, Prisoners. One Captain Krauser. One Major Aldarin. One Colonel Jakyll.

[Guest]

War was terrifying

Xing had experienced a history of warfare, a history that Peizhi had to learn inside and out. Scholars and historians spoke of honour, and justice. They painted pictures of valourous charges in the name of peace and glory. The naive little girl had always pictured war as some relic of the past, just a page in a history book, just a necessity for the greater good of the state. War had repelled the invading hordes of Jemutin centuries ago. War led to the undoing of the warlords of the warring states period and ushered in an era of prosperity under a single heavenly Dynasty. War was just words in an old book.....

But that wasn't true, war was nothing of honour and glory. There were no valiant victories of a marauding force of evil. There was only death and destruction. Buildings reduced to rubble cluttered the city. Bloodied bodies littered the streets and stained the snow. Drachmans and Amestrians alike, they lied out in the snow, expressions of terror and anguish settled upon their frozen faces. And the civilians, families, children.......Peizhi turned away from the gruesome scene, her eyes, partially hidden behind the mask she wore, welled with tears. She shut them tight, some faint sense of vain hope that she could shut out the world lingered in her mind. But the world did not go away. The earth shook with frightful explosions, the deathly percussion of gunfire rang out in the frigid night air, drawing closer and closer, threatening to engulf them. Men and women screamed out in agony, only to be silenced.

She gripped the hilt of her sword, Huabanjian, the sword of her sacred ancestor, Hua Mulan. Mulan had been a hero of war, a saviour of her people. Peizhi had kidded herself into thinking she could be the same, that she could earn that title for herself, on her own, that this was all just a game. Such stupid thoughts. So stupid, so stupid, she had been so stupid. She hadn't taken it seriously at all, and now they were here, surrounded by death. Peizhi was afraid. She was afraid to die, she was afraid to witness death, she was afraid to lose everyone, she was afraid to lose.....

From behind her mask, that wonderful mask that hid her fear from everyone else, she peered at Saeji. He seemed troubled. Despite his calm exterior, somehow, Peizhi could tell. He exuded energy, the essence of alchemy and alkahestry alike; she could see it, wrapping around him. The young emperor beckoned her to come close, and so she did, more than happy to be near him. She felt safer when she was close to him, and she felt he was safer too. They wouldn't lose each other, they wouldn't.....

A massive explosion shook the foundations of the capital building ahead. The world famous Kremlin, now engulfed in fire began to shake and collapse. And then it fell, crumbling to pieces, burying all of the surrounding area, raining upon them in a shower of stone and debris. It all happened so quickly. She saw the building collapse, she saw the broken masonry descending rapidly down upon them. Perhaps it was shock and awe, or perhaps it was the chilling terror of war that gripped at her heart, but Peizhi could not move her feet as the rubble threatened to bury her alive; her entire body was paralyzed. Something had hit her from the side, sent her hurdling to the ground just as the broken rubble fell upon her....yet she was not hurt in the slightest. Instead, a familiar voice cried out in pain. "Sae-..SAEJI" Peizhi cried out in alarm, realizing what had just happened. The dust settled and his figure, huddled over her own was made visible. Eyes met and he gave her a pained smile, wincing from the injuries sustained from his efforts to save her. "Good to see you safe, beautiful." said he, as he slowly rose to his feet. Still too startled and disoriented to properly move, Peizhi could only lay there in the snow among the debris of the Kremlin, shivering with shock. Why couldn't she react properly? She was so lost in all this calamity, so useless that Saeji had hurt himself looking out for her...why had she even bothered to come here?

On shaky legs, Peizhi struggled to her feet, ready to embrace him and beg for forgiveness. But that was never realized. Saeji let loose a terrible cry that hurt her ears in his blare of pain. "Saeji!" she called His injuries were minor but....Peizhi could only look on in horror as he thrashed and screamed, tormented by some unseen agony. But what tortured him so, Peizhi could see it. An ominous chi, characterized of a dark, consuming blackness, tainted with the colour of blood, it began to creep up from the depth of Saeji's center, contorting and overpowering Saeji's own spirit. It was terrible, frightening, merely witnessing the horror smothered the young girl, sucking the breath out from her lungs and chilling her spine. She was helpless once more, as she watched the familiar white chi of the person she had come to hold so dearly vanish from all sight, vanquished by the dire energy. The last she saw of Saeji was an apprehensive glance, an unspoken plea for her to flee, and then he was no more. All that ever was Saeji had ceased to exist, Peizhi could no longer see him. Instead there was only his body left, a familiar face possessed by an unfamiliar energy. The new entity which donned the appearance of Saeji Aeries departed from her, heading onward and leaving her in a broken state, paralyzed with fear, unable to comprehend what had just happened to her dearest friend.

Earthen brown eyes stared ahead at the figure which grew more distant with every passing second, but she could see nothing, save for the dreadful aura that emanated from the unknown entity. It reeked of an insatiable bloodlust, she could see his murderous intent, reaching out to lick the skin off of everyone around it, including Ace's own body, like a dark flame. Peizhi was frozen with fear. Her feet were planted weakly in the snow, unable to shift, and her chest tightened as her breath was sucked from her lungs. She remained motionless, save for the lips that trembled and the tears trailing down her face. Saeji was....he was no longer.....had he been removed from this world? Had she lost someone so precious to her? Incomprehensible to her numbed mind was the idea of such tragic loss. Were it not for the glimmer, that glimpse of white light that momentarily escaped the cloud of darkness that veiled it, she would have lost herself to despair. But that struggle, that flash of white chi, it instilled hope within her heart, hope that Saeji was not lost. She could save him, she could call out to him if she could just...

"Стой!". A harsh command in an unintelligible tongue. Three men dressed in Drachman garb. Hostile glares, staring down at her from the iron sights of assault rifles. War was terrible, war was chaotic. Faced with peril, faced with death, faced with the prospect of loss, the young Xingese girl could not find herself, she could not think, she could only stand there, the world spinning around her, an unrecognizable place.

One stepped forward, motioning violently with the barrel of his gun trained on Peizhi's head. "На земле сейч-" the Drachman soldiers sentence was cut abruptly and replaced with a shout of pain. He dropped his weapon to the ground and clenched at his hand, from which a knife protruded, drawing forth his blood. The other two had hardly turned to their injured comrade before a shadowy figure sprung from unseen concealment and planted a sharp kick into his back, sending him stumbling into the other, and both hit the ground. The ghostly figure continued its dash, drawing a blade and swiftly descending upon the farthest man, the one previously injured, and letting the steel rake across his neck. The other two followed in suit, all in one swift motion, their blood spilt in unison. The specter of an executioner then turned to the fearful xingese girl whom she had saved. The masked assassin was of an entirely different caliber than Peizhi. Both wore clothing of the Xingese art of stealth, both wore the masks of those who protect their masters in anonymous ambiguity, but behind Peizhi's mask were tearful orbs of brown, filled with terror and confusion, and what peered down to meet her quivering gaze was a hollow and cold stare of otherworldly quality.

"You have eyes. Use them.". Scolded Tsu with words so forceful with reasoning and castigation. And then Tsu vanished, merging once more in the shadows. The sound of her retainer's voice, the sober words that were spoken, they served as a bridge to reality and anchored her mind to this terrible and chaotic mind. A fragile bond of necessity, as it was imperative that she save herself, imperative that she save Saeji.

There was not time to think and scarce time to act. Peizhi looked around desperately, tapping into the Dragon's Pulse, scanning the field of flowing energy and chi. Some burned brightly, others were extinguished by some physical act of war. All except one. The ominous black and red chi from before, the one that had possessed Saeji's body, had gone from its inferno of killing intent to a dim glow, until it vanished completely. A pallid silvery energy had overcome it, the unmistakable chi of Saeji had emerged victorious, vanquishing the malicious entity and reclaiming his physical form.

Relief. That was the first feeling that came to overwhelm her heart. Relief that Saeji was still here, that she could feel his presence again. She would have ran across the battlefield, with all its perils and dangers just to be near him, just to embrace him. But it was impossible now, they were separated by a sea of hectic destruction, and the brown haired man nearest to him on the roof began to drag him away.

Explosions engulfed all around and hailstorms of bullets tore through fragile bodies, but Peizhi was determined to be reunited with Saeji no matter what. Tsu was lurking nearby, ready to assist her should she run into danger, and the Dragon's Pulse was with her. She could still see and feel Saeji's aura. She could still follow him, she would find a way to get to him. Placing her hand on her sword, assuring herself that she was still armed, and that the spirit of her ancestors still watched over her, she set forth, sprinting with the incredible agility which Xingese warriors were known for. Leaping over debris and obstacles, bounding through groups of soldiers, both Amestrians and Drachmans, she aimed for a nearby building. She could sense Saeji moving just beyond the concrete complex, moving by, heading towards Red Square. If she could move quickly through the building, the vast open city square would be on the other side, there she would be able to get to Saeji, to make sure he was okay.

Without a moment's hesitation, she deftly climbed the wall and through an open window on the second floor. She slipped into a vacant hallway. Her foot steps echoed lightly on the tiled floor when she landed there from the window. Alright, now all there was left to do was to dash for the other side and.....

A flurry of motion from the corner of her eye, the flash of a blade, the fierce intent that burned from youthful blue eyes..... Peizhi was pushed into the wall with a heavy thud, the weight of the Drachman private thrown against her as he bared upon her, his combat knife pointed at her flesh, shaking violently as it drew closer, edging towards her rapidly thumping heart, kept at bay only by her feeble attempt to hold his arms away. He was larger, he was stronger, he was determined to kill his enemy, a wolf bearing down upon the frightened hare, who only wished to escape its fangs. With her head pressed against the wall in her struggle against her enemy, Peizhi could hear movements from the next room over, several people jumping to their feet and shuffling about, scrambling, the clattering of weapons...She had stumbled upon an entire squad of Drachman soldiers, barricaded within the building.

"Я думаю, что я что-то слышали. Борислав, пойдем со мной для проведения расследования.". Muffled voices through the wall's foundation. They sounded alarmed. They could be coming this way. If they all surrounded her it would be over. She had to get away! The martial artist swiftly brought her knee up into the man's gut, causing him to back away from her. A opening! She tried to slip past him, out of the corner he had trapped her against, but he recovered quickly, and lashed out at her. The fine tip of his knife tore at her skin, grazing it ever so slightly, leaving a shallow cut across her cheek and a thin stream of blood dripping down her cheek. Out of reflex, Peizhi drew a small throwing knife from the satchel on her thigh and brought it up to meet his next swing and parried his blow. The steel blades clanked against each other, but the Drachman man used his greater size and threw his weight against her once more, knocking her into the wall with such force that her head throbbed and her back bruised from where she had slammed against the surface. The young Drachman boy, perhaps no older than herself, aimed his knife at her throat, trying to force it forward to bite her flesh with the force of both his arms. With her own strength behind her knife, she matched the his blade and pushed her arms against his. They struggled for several more agonizing seconds before Peizhi mustered the strength to deliver a sharp kick to his knee. He nearly buckled and cried out in pain this time, leaving another opening the Xingese could take advantage of. Rather than run this time, she would keep pushing the assault. With her empty hand, she struck him hard in his jaw, a desperate move to disorient him further and allow her to escape safely before the others arrived. But that was not the case. The Drachman militant endured the strike and returned his own, sending a fist flying squarely into Peizhi's forehead. With dizzying pain that pounded persistently in her head, she fell to the ground with a thud. The room reeled around her, and the hazy figure of her opponent drew down upon quickly, the gleam of his knife still distinguishable in her disorientation. She was going to die! She couldn't die! She reacted quickly, blindly, brandishing her blade forward, trying to stave off her attacker. She felt his weight crash against her outstretched arms and her eyes shut tightly, anticipating death, but the sting of his knife never came. Her eyes opened and met his. The vibrantly fierce blue she had witnessed seconds before now quivered and dithered with a growing dimness. His mouth opened and trembled, as if he meant to utter words that would not come forth. Peizhi's eyes wandered to her own hand, that had held the knife. It was covered in blood, vivid, red blood that painted her hand and fingers, that ran down her arm like a steady river, staining her clothes and skin alike. But it was not her blood that ran so freely, but the blood that leaked from her knife, the knife that dug deeply into the man's neck. It dripped down onto her face, a drop of it splashing against her cheek, followed by another, then another. She shuttered uncontrollably and she became painfully aware of how hard her heart was beating in her chest, threatening to burst forth in all of its terror and anxiety. Timidly, her gaze crept back to his, which were now a dim azure, drained of life. With every trembling breath he took, he exuded hatred for the woman who had maimed him so. His final dying breaths, though they carried no words upon them, were like heavy curses, uttered in hatred for his killer. A final gasp of air shuddered from his lungs, his eyes flickered faintly with life for a second more then.....nothing. His body grew still and heavy, and it rolled off of Peizhi, tearing the knife from her fingers, being still embedded in his flesh.

The world seemed to grow very still.......so still, so silent. It was so quiet, everything was so quiet. It was like she was all alone in an empty world. All alone with the lifeless body of the man she had just ecountered. Sounds came from the other room; shouts, thuds, cries of pain followed by silence; the demise of the Drachman squad at the hands of Tsu. But not a single note of this seemed to reach Peizhi's deaf ears. She had climbed to her knees, kneeling over the Drachman soldier with a disquieted gaze that lingered upon his bloodied neck and listless eyes, which still stared ahead into nothingness. Her mind went blank, deluged in a torrent of feelings she could not touch. Her body went cold with a deathly chill that ate away at her. Every beat of her heart sounded so loud, like the beating of a drum. It beat so quickly and violently, yet each thud sounded like an eternity away from the last. The girl slowly peered down at her hands. They were stained with blood. So vivid and red, so brightly coloured, it stained her hands, she could see anything but the scarlet hue of the blood. It covered her hands, it covered her arms, it covered her face in speckles and splatters. She was covered in it. All of it. Everywhere. Blood everywhere. It pooled on the floor, still gushing forth from the stab wound, spewing more forth like a broken faucet that wouldn't shut off all the way. She could taste it, salty and bitter specks of it on her lips.

"No....." she murmured in a faint, quivering whisper. "No...no....no.....no....no.....no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NOOOOOO. AaaaAAAAAEEEEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" she screamed in harrowing distress, he shrill terror carrying across the empty halls and rooms and out the open windows of the building. Her voice died down when her she could no longer draw anymore breath for her horrified shreak. The blood...it kept leaking forth..she knelt in a puddle of it.... a puddle of death, of this man's life, spilt onto the floor, all of his dreams and hopes.....the blood of a man who had loved, who had family and friends just like her....they would never see him again....he wasn't part of this world anymore....his life....she knelt in it, it stained her...it was everywhere! His chi was gone, she was painted in his life......... She felt terribly sick..... she tried to get to her feet, but she fell back onto her hands instead. The river of blood, it chased after her, and she retreated, backing away with a look of sheer terror set into her eyes, until she backed into a corner, unable to go any further, trapped by the advancing pool of sin.

"No...no....no...." she whispered frightfully, transfixed on the red visage. Something bounded up the stairs with hasty steps that echoed in the building. The door swung open forcibly, a familiar precense entered the room...but she could not look up at him..she couldn't...not with these eyes....not with the eyes of a murderer....no....
"I didn't......I didn't mean to....I wasn't......I.....I....." her eyes began to fill with tears, her voice broke and cracked with strain- "-I....I'm sorry.....I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.....please.....no....no...please.....I'm sorry"

War was terrifying

[Guest]

The streets were screaming out for help, screaming against the waves and waves of blood that flowed throughout that circle that was the city. It was drowning in the blood of its people, the blood of its enemies, and the blood of its allies. It had drunk its fill, but now it was choking on it. Choking on the blood that was caking on its gutters, on the bodies that fell in droves into the pit of its stomach, on... on all this destruction. And what for? What the hell did these countries want? "Ideals clashing against ideals...." She had said that to him once. Yes, that was war. And war.... war never changes.

Turning a corner, he stopped dead as the crimson of his eyes colored the street before him, his soldiers.... ripped to pieces. Was Mother Drachma happy? Was Alena happy? Was RIOTE happy about this?! A man was sputtering there in the snow, and Zabulon's eyes narrowed. An Amestrian. So you weren't fucking dead yet hm? A shame. Truly. He had to fix that now. His footsteps were surprisingly quiet as he suddenly loomed over the injured man, crouching down as he placed the butt of his scythe on his arm that was reaching for a gun. "Now now, thats not necessary is it? You killed them, I kill you. Seems fair, doesn't it?" The man's eyes kept glancing up to the scythe as its wicked red gleam seemed to call out for more paint. But he found himself chuckling and shaking his head, removing the glove of his right hand. "Oh don't be silly, I have a special idea in mind for you." He murmured, his voice a continuous, deep monotone. His voice that sounded so rich as the earth, only sounded like the grim reaper come to claim the mans soul. Gripping the mans throat, he activated his alkahestry, a smirk of resolution breaking the normally impassive mask of his features. He could feel the white blood cells listening to the single command he wired into them. You have a new enemy little soldiers of light, and its all around you. Attack it. Destroy it. Conquer it to heal as you always do.

The man below him was clearly confused, he didn't understand what this imposing man before him had said, what his words meant. Special? Hmph. A breath of a chuckle as he rose up, continuing to keep the mans hand pinned down. Now, normally this would be a slow process taking years, but.... right now? He had made it a little... faster. First the cramps that slammed into the man with an angry fist. Then, a sudden fever that licked at his body and contrasted the cold about them. Next, a rather ugly rash began to spread across his skin, almost necrophilic in its appearance. He was crying out in pain now as his skin seemed to appear a yellow, choking as vomit poured from his mouth. Thaaaats right... And Zabulon just watched, staring cooly down at this man beneath him. He writhed this way and that, calling out to the sky for some type of mercy. But he would find none. Only a few more moments now.... He was thrashing this way and that, trying to find some sort of relief until...! Flatline. And the Head of Defense? His expression was as cold as ever, unfeeling as a statue as he turned and walked slowly away, placing his glove back upon his hand.

There were shouts up ahead, and this being war, he would just stalk towards his prey like he had before. But... There was something different about these shouts. They were being directed at someone. A shrill scream. He found himself running. His scythe was held low as he continued to listen, pinpointing three voices specifically besides the fourth whom they held. Darting around a corner, he didn't slow even as he saw three Amestrian soldiers forming a semi-circle about someone who was collapsed upon the ground. "GET OUT OF MY COUNTRY!" He roared with all the righteous fury blazing in his chest, charging full tilt towards them. One barely raised his gun in time and his torso fell away from his hips. The next got off a couple of shots before decapitation silenced him. The last had frozen to the spot in terror, his head also getting ripped from his body. The three bodies seemed to hang there for a moment before toppling over, their blood adding to the feast as he stood there poised after his blow had gone through. Slowly straightening up, he heard the whimpering to his left and sheathed his scythe, his tall shadow falling over the form of...

A child.

A young child from which the mirror of the past stared him in the face. Time... had stopped. His eyes had gone wide with surprise and... frankly alarm. He hadn't been expecting this. Everyone, and he made sure it had been everyone had been told to go to the shelters. Even the homeless had been taken care of. So what was this... this child doing here?! It was looking up now, and he realized.... It was a girl. A girl no older than he had been when Svetlana had found him. She looked up at him with frightened eyes, wide like a deer-in-the-headlights. She was trembling like a leaf, clutching her tattered clothes about her as the two just stared at each other in disbelief. He, who saw himself in her. And she, who stared at her savior. He was slowly crouching down over one of the dead bodies, holding out his arms to her as his crimson eyes stared at her. He didn't look like her, and he could tell that put her off a bit, but still he held out his arms. Hesitantly she started to rise, yet full heartedly fell into him. His arms slid about her small frame, hearing how she sobbed and clung to him. What had those soldiers been doing? Had they been simply trying to move her along? Had... His lips tightened as he held her a little closer, a hand coming to rest upon her head. "You're safe little one." He whispered to her, listening to her soft sobs. "I'm Zabulon Goncharova, Head of Defense. I'll take care of you. Do you have anyone-" Before he could even finish the question he could feel how violently she shook her head no. Ok then. With him, she would stay.

What... What did he do with a child? Would he watch her till the end of the war and then find her a home? What if she didn't want to leave? What should he do right this second? And that was what he needed to focus on. This was still a war, and he had no illusions as to what could happen now that he had taken responsibility for her life specifically. Yes, he was responsible for every single person in the country and their safety but she was here with him. The rest were not. They were in their respective safe houses as--

SHADOW.... Death...

"Come, let us go." He spoke to her softly, lifting her up easily as if she were made of twigs. And she really did feel that light. It made him remember, made him think back to when he had been where she was now. Hungry, alone, and barely feeling. Olga cawed on his shoulder and took flight, his gaze following after her as he walked around the bodies towards... somewhere. But just what was he sensing? What was this force of Hell that roamed the streets for prey? His city was going quiet against their presence, no screams, the feast put on pause. The march of soldiers boots was faint in the distance, and the very earth seemed to tremble before its aura. They shouldn't be there. The girl whimpered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder; she knew there was something wrong as well. You didn't need the trainings of a soldier to know what was bad news. Casting his eyes about, he walked over to one of the apartments that lined the street and kicked the door in, closing it once they were inside. He'd worry about paperwork later, right now his priority was the girl. Those forces.... Whose side were they on? Running up to the top floor, he picked a random door and broke through it as well, the wood at least fitting back into the door frame. No, the Head of Defense didn't have keys to all the places of the city as some foolishly believed.

"Are they going to kill us?" This mousy little voice whispered next to his ear, the girl moving in his arms. She had relaxed a little, yet still she trembled, staring at him as he looked about the apartment. A simple two room. This would do fine. But her voice had caught his attention, it meant she could speak. His crimson eyes looked over her small face, reminiscent of an upside-down teardrop with lovely high cheek bones, her grey eyes staring back at him. How did he answer her? "I do not know. Come, let us get you food." He placed her down carefully and walked towards the kitchen, listening to her quiet footsteps that followed him. "What does 'head of defense' mean? Does that mean you are like a knight?" He paused as he rummaged through the refridgerator, picking out some fruit and bits for a sandwich. Him? A knight? He was acutely aware of the blood that stained his hands, the rage he had been consumed with until... until he found her. How he had ripped those Amestrians apart with little remorse, how... how he had caused that man to die moments before-- The marching of soldiers was outside. Handing her an apple without a second glance or an answer to her question, he strode across the room into the living room and peered out from behind the blinds down towards the street below.

It was as if Anubis had summoned up an army of the damned to purge the streets of this city gorging itself on the bodies of war. Never had he felt such a powerful presence come from anything, or of one so dark. Truly, it was if they had permission from the forces that be to gather up all the light about them and snuff it out. A touch. He stiffened and looked to its source, watching as the girl shrank a little as she had grasped onto his leg. She was terrified, and it struck him to the core. Was this some ironic twist of fate? Was this how Svetlana had felt when she saw him all those years ago? He found himself placing a hand upon her hand before glancing out the window again, hearing shouts in Amestrian though no words could be made out. Now to see... His eyes widened as it was as if the men had never been, swallowed whole by the beast that stalked the streets. Who... Who were they? "Zabulon sir..." Her small voice pierced through the curtains and lured him downwards to her, turning his gaze to her once more. "Just Zabulon is fine. Eat your apple." She let go of his leg and bit into the fruit as he strode back towards the kitchen, searching for... Ah-HA! Excellent. Drawing a bottle of wine from a cupboard he sat down at the table and popped it open, allowing a moment for it to breathe. Oh. Right. Her previous question. "I guard everyone in Drachma. I make sure our defenses are strong and our people are safe. I do not know if this makes me a knight or not." He finally answered her, watching as she came up to the table with a shuffle, sitting slowly in the chair. God.... What twist of fate was this? It was if it were all reversed... His life... "You are a knight of sorts." She seemed to have decided this for herself, interrupting his thoughts as he looked over her again. "What is your name and how old are you?" He asked her since it was rather important to know what to call her. But he could never have expected the answer that came out of her mouth.

"Svetlana. I'm eight years old." He froze and just gazed at her, the answer reverberating in his skull and soul. "Svetlana..." "My name is Svetlana Goncharova. "Svetlana-" "Sventlana-" "I'm eight-" "How old are you?" "Eight--" "You're eight years old?" "Zabulon sir, are you alright?" He blinked and realized that he felt a wetness on his cheek, breathing as if he had forgotten to. Wiping it away with a gloved hand, he sipped from the bottle and cleared his throat. "Y-yes I'm fine. You're eight years old? How long have you been on the street?" The two of them spoke, answering the same questions that he had been asked as a child at a table not so different from this. And for once he realized, he was showing more than just his impassive expression to her. It was as if a hammer hand come down and shattered the glass that had encased him, bringing the world in with her. The past and present were one, and he was lost somewhere in the middle.

[THREAD LEFT]

[Csilla Angelis]

Csilla sighed, shouldering her rifle. That had been fun. Not. She had taken down several more of those men dressed in white, as well as some Drachman soldiers. But she did not come through the ordeal entirely unscathed. Her grazed shoulder had several more bruises added to it and she had a bullet wound on the back of her calf muscle. Luckily it had gone through and she had been able to tie it off in a free moment. Blood dripped from a cut on her temple, the red liquid tracing a path down her cheek. But she was finally ready to move forward to assist Elastor. He was locked in battle with that man, whoever he was. Elastor seemed so fueled by rage that the other man appeared to be toying with him, easily blocking every move Elastor made. Csilla moved closer when she heard voices call out to her.

"Hey now! No disturbing the boss when he's busy." "Yeah, and don't even think about touching him. Only I can touch him." "Me too." Two women cut off her path. One was holding a club of some sort, the other a short sword and a pistol. Both had white and black on, one's outfit the opposite of the other. They wore pigtails in their hair and smiles on their faces. Twins, it seemed like. And both visibly enamored of their frightening boss."Come on, girlie. Try and get through us." Csilla sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "If you insist." Csilla raised her rifle and began to shoot, watching as the girls dodged her bullets. Then she heard the definite CLICK that her gun was now empty. Throwing it to the ground, she gathered up the light in the area around her. She released it in the direction of the pistol-wielding girl, listening to her screech as the light filled her vision. Reaching into her coat, Csilla pulled out her pistol and shot as the girl began to unload her pistol at random. Csilla felt ANOTHER bullet graze her same shoulder and bit her lip to stop a scream. She was puzzled when she heard a scream come from behind her and turned to see the club-wielding girl on the ground. One of her sister's bullets had gone right past Csilla and into her twin's knee. Quickly, Csilla slammed her pistol handle down on the girl's head, watching as she fell limp. She then faced the other girl who was slowly regaining her vision. She ran forward, her kicking her down as she attempted to rise. "Stay down." She did a similar move, slamming down the pistol handle down until the twin was also unconscious. Csilla was sick of killing.

Returning her pistol to her coat, she turned to look at Elastor and Takatori. Elastor was... crumbling to the ground?? Apparently a punch thrown by the shirtless man had caught Elastor off-guard. She saw him raise his blade to come down to start slicing at Elastor and Csilla's eyes flared and turned dark. It didn't appear to be a killing move just yet, but Csilla didn't like the idea of torture any more than the idea of killing. "No!" She began to run as fast as she could toward them, gathering every inch of light she could. She felt it practically burn in one hand as she neared them. "You will not touch him!" Coming up to them, she released the light straight into Takatori's singular eye. In the same instant she grabbed at Elastor, lifting him around his shoulders and helping him to stand and move backwards slightly. "Ela! You need to get up! Come on!"


[If I need to change anything, let me know!]

[Xiao Yu]

Xiao marched alongside his troops as he heard the Emperor's older brother come across the radio, followed some time later by the Emperor himself. Xiao allowed himself a small breath of relief. Thank goodness. Now all they had to do was get out of this damned place. What seemed like ages after he first contacted Jeu-Hee, he found her and what was left of her troops. They were gathering the wounded so Xiao directed his own troops to assist as he went to Jeu-Hee. She was off to one side just staring off. She did not look well at all. Xiao felt immediately uncomfortable. He had NO idea what to do to help her. Coming towards her, he rested a hand gently on her shoulder so not to make her jump. “You alright?”

He didn't have time to hear her reply because suddenly, the sound of marching feet seemed to fill the area around them. Gunfire and shouts were coming from somewhere nearby and by the sounds of it, it didn't sound like reinforcements for the allies of Amestris. It sounded like they were chanting... “RIOTE?” The name rang a bell in the back of Xiao's mind but it wasn't something he lingered on long. As far as he could tell they would come upon the Xingese troops soon enough and they were tired and beaten down. This could be a slaughter. He looked at Jeu-Hee in her bedraggled state and with a heavy sigh, radioed in to Ace. “Emperor, RIOTE soldiers are swarming the streets of Moscow. We need orders. We may not survive if we stay. We... we may need to fall back.” He spoke the last setence quietly, cringing within himself. As much as he disliked war, he disliked like running away even more. But he did not want to see his countrymen killed. But until he heard from Ace, there was little he could do.

“Men. It looks like we've got some more people headed our way who want a taste of our Chu No Kus. Let's show them how the Xingese fight!” The troops quickly cheered and rallied for the oncoming battle, despite their own misgivings. Looking down at Jeu-Hee, Xiao smiled faintly. “Just a bit longer, eh?”

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