Disclaimer: I don't own them. They belong to someone else.
Yeah, I know. I should be writing chapter 9 for Embarrassed Meeting and I will. I just needed something to get me in a writting mood. So here I am doing some drabbles. As you can guess they're from the 100 theme.There is five in this chapter.Well, here we go.
A soldier always has a crisp, clean uniform on. It's worn properly. No button, insignia, or cord out of place. They stand stiff and salute when before a higher-ranking officer. Orders are followed to the letter without any discussions. This is how a soldier is to be when they are in the military but there is always an exception to this rule.
Within the Amestrian army there is a command that rarely follows proper military etiquette. That command falls under the leadership of one named Colonel Roy Mustang. He demands loyalty out of them but not manners. There is one that is most loyal to him by the name of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. She is thought of as the perfect soldier by many of the higher ups.
Her uniform is always worn as told by protocol. There is never a wrinkle on it. Nor will it ever have dirt on it. She follows orders and carries them out swiftly. Respect is shown when it is called for. She is a perfect soldier but at the same time she isn't.
She will follow orders to the letter but only when given to her by Colonel Mustang. He changes the orders whenever he can to benefit himself and she will dutifully carry it out. No questions asked. She is loyal to him and only him.
Then there is the colonel himself. Colonel Roy Mustang, celebrated war hero, is one of the laziest people alive. Paperwork is easily forgotten while fun things are always on his mind. He is determined to change things in the military yet sometime he doesn't have the will to do it. He follows orders but will question the validity of it every step of the way.
Their relationship as superior and subordinate is far from normal. He has the higher ranking yet she is in charge of the office. Whenever there is an issue, he always asks for her opinion. Where he orders his other subordinates, he gives her a choice. She is lower in ranking to him and does things that are consider insubordination by the military. He doesn't see it as that but as something that will save him. She is allowed to back talk to him and even to call him useless. They will walk side by side occasionally as opposed to having the subordinate the normal two steps behind. Also there is the occasional time where she will order him.
In the Amestrian army there are two types of military personnel. There are those that are loyal only to the military and its ruler. Then there are those who are loyal more to the military's ideals then the establishment itself and more importantly to the people.
A single gunshot. That was all that it took to end a life but at the same time it had destroyed so many more. It was the last thing that he heard before coming across the bodies. A single bullet had managed to take away both his strength and light.
She had run ahead against his orders when she felt something wrong. Now she was lying there with his best friend covered in blood. She had managed to get there in time, to take the bullet that was meant for Maes. But it was all in vein because the bullet went through her and into him. By the time he got there, she was already gone from the blood loss. His light was gone and all that was left in him was darkness. He never got to tell her how important she was, how she always shone the way whenever he was lost in a void, how she was his light and love.
His strength was still there but barely and he knew that it would only last for a minute longer. This man had always been with him. It was this man that he would call brother who had introduced him to his light and savior during the Ishbal War. He was the one that was pushing and pulling him to the top. His strength was the one who told him that he was in love with his light. Now a bullet within him was draining him of his life force. A cold, bloody hand found its way to his. It gave a slight squeeze before finally going limp, telling him that he would take care of her for him.
He kneeled there watching the two most precious people sleep their final sleep because of a single gunshot. The blame fell to him because he couldn't get there in time to stop the assailant. Because he could stop his light from shining his way to her death or for using all his strength to get to the top instead of saving it. The assailant had gotten away but not for long. A single gunshot was all it took to take them away so a single gunshot was all it was going to take to destroy the murderer and his ambitions.
There are four types of battles each with it unique field. There is one happening on a land with people fighting against other people. They have been to this type of battlefield many times. One in particular was the Ishbal War. He had burned people to a crisp while she shot at them. Bombs would explode taking many lives as shrapnel would take out the rest. Her sniper gun would take those that survived the initial attack out from a distance or he would take them out with his ignition glove at a closer range. It was a war zone plain and simple. Corpse filled the battlefield. And they were the executors. This was a physical battlefield for them.
The second type is of a verbal kind. This type's battlefield is usually that of their office. She would mention something of his laziness or his useless in the rain. He would always retort that he wasn't lazy or useless even if they were true. A small little argument would erupt into a war of words. He would go into his miniskirt rant while she would be yelling at him for his attitude towards women. In the end they would get mad at each other for days before finally making up.
Type number three is that of the mind. The battlefield is that of a board game of some sort, usually it was chess. It was to determine who was smarter, more cunning, and their level of trickery. It was a battle of the mind. During their play they would always come up with ways of distracting their opponent. He would make remarks of her beauty and she would make herself blush just to fool him. In the end, the game would be a stalemate.
Finally there is the fourth battlefield. This like the last two is from within the body. It is a battle with oneself; it is a battle between the mind and the heart. Their hearts long for each other but their minds keep them apart. They crave the warmth of each other and just as they are near their minds tell them of the consequences. The mind tries to dominate the body but the heart will fight for the control. In this battle, either the mind wins or the heart does. Rarely will it come out as a tie.
In truth there are many types of battlefields. There are those that can destroy a person and those that can rejuvenate a person. A battlefield is there to settle an argument of some sort. There will be a brief exchange there, as seen in the eyes of time, before it is left desolate and is only remembered in the history text. Then there are those that will forever be fought on and remembered just as long.
Roy stood there staring and thinking. He was the only person there, aside from Riza. It didn't feel like he was awake. That everything before him was a dream. No, it wasn't a dream; it was a nightmare. Any minute now, he would be waking up and getting ready for work. A sharp sensation went through his arm and he knew that this wasn't a nightmare. He had pinched himself to bring his mind back to reality only to find that everything was true. The tombstone before him was real and in that instance he wanted to blow it up. It was a disgrace to the man it was suppose to represent. It didn't show what kind of man he was, rather it was a representation of the mockery the military had for him. That tombstone didn't deserve to mark his grave. It tarnished it more than having nothing there.
The grave of his best friend, Maes, was a contradiction. It was sullied by the tombstone but livened up by the flowers. The flowers left by loved ones, left by his family, better represented his grave. It told of his colorfulness and personality. Every flower held within it an emotion or thought that person felt for Maes as they gave it him as a parting gift from them. That was the only thing that Roy found comfort in. That and the unwavering figure behind him. He gave a final salute to his friend and faced her. She stood there waiting for him, holding a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. The flowers were laid down with the rest before they finally made their way out of the cemetery. Before she could even protest, Roy took her hand in his. After a quick glance back to affirm that he was finally taking Maes's constant advice, they walked back home.
He had a weapon of his own. It was unique compared to the others. He could make fire by snapping his fingers and using alchemy. The other weapons could be used to make fires if used in a special way. He found this out on a special mission they were assigned to. She had her guns, and he had his gloves.
Midway through the mission they ended up in a cave, soaking wet. It began to downpour and they were forced to seek shelter. The cave was dark but the moonlight helped them find their way around. They were in serious need of a fire for warmth. There was plenty of dry wood in the cave but how to make a fire. His gloves proved to be useless in this situation since they were wet. He sat there shivering but at the same time confused.
She was sitting next to a pile of wood. They had been position into a small, little tepee. Inside of it were patches of moss and roots. She sat there messing with her bullets. He sat at the cave wall, scrunched into a ball. His eyes were glued her, wondering what she was doing. The thing that caught his attention was when she took her gun and struck them against each other. Sparks flew from the scrapping metal. The next thing he knew there was a fire. She turned around and smiled at him.
The gun power from the bullet acted as a catalyst for the sparks and caught the moss on fire. From there the fire spread to the wood. They finally had light and a source of warmth. They were going to be fine. He felt like he was on cloud nine when the two of them stripped down to their underwear to avoid catching a cold. They sat back-to-back close to the fire as their clothes dried by it. Outside the cave it was surely flooding but in there they were fine and all thanks to her weapons. It was nice to be saved by her bullets and by her gun without taking a life in the process.
Not really sure with how that went. Review and tell me what's wrong or right. Whichever. I'll update whenever I have writers' block with my other stories. See ya.