[ Nightmare 1 ] Week Fourteen, Day Four
This is battle, as you know it.
The air is stagnant, with gunpowder and dust and sweat--
blood, blood everywhere
--just like the days you remember that were so long ago, yet the reminders are what you wear as you stand, as confidently as possible before the enemy, enemies that look human, yet are killing those around you, your comrades. These, too, are familiar, aren't they, something inside sneers.
Human beings. They're human beings, Flame Alchemist.
You tug on the fabric of your glove, as if it isn't sitting right, your heart beating, your eyes burning in the flames that have caught the roofs, the plant life, the world and torched all life, save for those humanoid beings that drag themselves towards you.
Guns fire. Blood splatters against the ground and the shadows move forward, feed on it as if they need their own fill.
Explosions sound.
These are the sounds of battle, sounds that do not leave, no matter how much time passes. It sounds almost melodious, a macabre orchestra playing all around you. This is nothing new. You remember it well, looked to it and the reasons for it for comfort because it was right. It had to be. It doesn't matter if they are human beings, if they have lives because they are simply the enemy now. And enemies must be eliminated.
The sweat on your brow cools your skin as those flames dance higher, a sickening grin in the heart of each, a taunting grin. A grin that causes your blood to run as hot as each blazing fire.
Your hand lifts. Eyes are hard. Your jaw is set. Kill or be killed. This is the law of the battlefield.
The action made is simple. A snap. A mere snap and the spark of red that leaps from your finger tips turns into a bright blaze of--
glory? heheheh...
--and the explosion is powerful. Entire bodies fly. Arms, legs, top halves and bottoms halves are tossed aside, away from the center of that explosion. You feel it on your lip, the lipids as the human body burns.
You remember it well, don't you, State Alchemist?
You don't falter. Instinct is to do it again--
eradicate them all
--but you're stopped by those humans, no, corpses, as they walk away from the devastation. Torsos drag themselves across the ground. Armless creatures stumble awkwardly. There's one missing a leg, but he hops persistently towards you. Each screams and groans in pain as flames lick their bodies, but they do not relent. They fight through that pain, all to get at you.
Kill them.
Their eyes, only dark, fathomless pits before are red now, glowing with anger and hatred in the flames.
Kill them.
Their grins are wicked.
Kill them.
The shadows move again, tendrils of hair that come out like long leaves from his head, eyes full of eagerness. His voice. It's his voice. Envy. That monster who...
KILL THEM!
The first red-eyed fireball approaches, one hand missing two fingers reaching out to capture you.
Your heart races.
Rage takes over.
Survival instincts blaze as bright as the flames closing in around you.
And you snap.
The air is stagnant, with gunpowder and dust and sweat--
blood, blood everywhere
--just like the days you remember that were so long ago, yet the reminders are what you wear as you stand, as confidently as possible before the enemy, enemies that look human, yet are killing those around you, your comrades. These, too, are familiar, aren't they, something inside sneers.
Human beings. They're human beings, Flame Alchemist.
You tug on the fabric of your glove, as if it isn't sitting right, your heart beating, your eyes burning in the flames that have caught the roofs, the plant life, the world and torched all life, save for those humanoid beings that drag themselves towards you.
Guns fire. Blood splatters against the ground and the shadows move forward, feed on it as if they need their own fill.
Explosions sound.
These are the sounds of battle, sounds that do not leave, no matter how much time passes. It sounds almost melodious, a macabre orchestra playing all around you. This is nothing new. You remember it well, looked to it and the reasons for it for comfort because it was right. It had to be. It doesn't matter if they are human beings, if they have lives because they are simply the enemy now. And enemies must be eliminated.
The sweat on your brow cools your skin as those flames dance higher, a sickening grin in the heart of each, a taunting grin. A grin that causes your blood to run as hot as each blazing fire.
Your hand lifts. Eyes are hard. Your jaw is set. Kill or be killed. This is the law of the battlefield.
The action made is simple. A snap. A mere snap and the spark of red that leaps from your finger tips turns into a bright blaze of--
glory? heheheh...
--and the explosion is powerful. Entire bodies fly. Arms, legs, top halves and bottoms halves are tossed aside, away from the center of that explosion. You feel it on your lip, the lipids as the human body burns.
You remember it well, don't you, State Alchemist?
You don't falter. Instinct is to do it again--
eradicate them all
--but you're stopped by those humans, no, corpses, as they walk away from the devastation. Torsos drag themselves across the ground. Armless creatures stumble awkwardly. There's one missing a leg, but he hops persistently towards you. Each screams and groans in pain as flames lick their bodies, but they do not relent. They fight through that pain, all to get at you.
Kill them.
Their eyes, only dark, fathomless pits before are red now, glowing with anger and hatred in the flames.
Kill them.
Their grins are wicked.
Kill them.
The shadows move again, tendrils of hair that come out like long leaves from his head, eyes full of eagerness. His voice. It's his voice. Envy. That monster who...
KILL THEM!
The first red-eyed fireball approaches, one hand missing two fingers reaching out to capture you.
Your heart races.
Rage takes over.
Survival instincts blaze as bright as the flames closing in around you.
And you snap.