Light flares and smoke fills the air. As you feel the debris fall around you, you know there should be screams, you know that the men who have fought by your side, the ones you lived with for so long that they have become closer than family are dying and their lament for all that they have lost should have rung above all else but a white, soundless void has filled your head. Too many explosions, the Flame Alchemist deafened by his own flames, alive only for Hawkeye's aim and Havoc's dogged tenacity.

As you wait for the flame's to clear, for the static to dissipate you find yourself thinking back to before the war. It feels like it was so long ago, an eternity of blood and death, when it has only been five years. Five short little years. You can still remember the day they came, with their Mako and their General and their death. It happened so quietly, they came speaking of peace and spewing greed like all dignitaries and as bad as ShinRa was they were nothing compared to what slithered out next.

Hojo. The name itself has become a vile curse to his men and Lieutenant Fair swears that it has always been so. It came forth from the portal wreaking of blood and death, of sickness and insanity and a malice that oozed out of it to smother anything it set it's cold slimy eyes on, and the first thing it saw when it skulked from it's hole was Fullmetal in one of his infamous tantrums. The Creature had discovered Alchemy.

It was ten years since that cursed day and things have only deteriorated. The Abomination took a special interest in Fullmetal, it wanted to combine the strength of a SOLDIER with the power of alchemy and Edward, sweet precious Edward was the perfect subject. The Beast had discovered the secret to controlling him, something that no one had ever dared to do: he took Alphonse.

Five years after ShinRa descended upon Central, Hojo declared war. Suddenly the homunculus didn't matter, there was a new enemy, one that sent even Hohenheim running. The war began so very quietly. There were no explosions, no screams nor pain; just Edward Elric, or what was left of him.

Hojo had found a way to reanimate corpses. Not true resurrection no, but good enough to pass. He sent Edward, sweet little Edward Bradley's house. All it took was the right charge set in the right place. Alphonse was found, three weeks later clutching the corpse of his brother, the real one this time, rather than a clone. Al never recovered and you think that it must be nice, to be him. To sit in a safe little room and dream of a happier time, locked up all nice and warm inside his head.

You are drawn from your memories by the sudden quiet and wonder how you could have ever failed to notice your hearing return, when the screaming and crying became so common place that you no longer pay it heed. You watch as the younger troopers relax, as if the battle has stopped, while the SOLDIERs and your own men grow wary. They know that this is not a calm, it is an eye.

A tension rides the air and you feel, as you have aways felt, long before The Creature got it's rotten little claws into him: Edward; Hojo's first and favorite. You know, logically that it isn't him; you burned the body yourself, but doesn't stop your heart from stopping, your breath from catching. He stands in the desert sun, an Angel of Wrath resplendent in his white armor, golden eyes glinting in the sun and hair streaming down between his crimson wings. His second stands behind him, a creature of darkness and death, swathed in blood and shadow, his crimson eye's shining from within his red cape. The Beast named the red eyed one Keku and this one, this one is Seti, God of Storms and Chaos, of strength and conflict and it pains you to think The Creature knew Edward so well.

The smarter of the troopers die running away and for a fleeting moment you wish you could as well. By the time their bodies fall all that remains are a handful of SOILDERS and what is left of your men. Seti seems to be waiting for something and you feel your heart hit the soles of your boots at the sight of the shining red hair of Esu, for where Esu goes Eris is not far and with him flies Rashnau and Bamapana.

Esu's appearance pulls at something in the Lieutenant and subsequently in the general as well. They new him once, when he was human, as they knew Eris, and to see them like this strikes pain into their hearts, their agony plain on their features.

The time has come and you are sure you are going to die and for some reason you a struck immobile. You can not fight Seti, not again, and something tells you the General and his Lieutenant share your misery.

All is still as Seti and his men face off with you and you know that it is less as opponents and more as a cat watching a particularly stupid mouse that has dared to stand against them. As Keku raises his tri-barreled gun you feel a sense of peace and stand ready to welcome it, listening to the sound of the gun cocking.

His head splits open with a deafening sound and a part of you is angered that your death will be denied. A dreadful wail escapes Bamapana and he dives to catch Keku, and the part of you that is always General Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist registers the fact that they can be killed.

Another bullet takes Bamapana and you realize that the Turks have come. Tseng strides by with the newest of Scarlet's weapons in his arms and takes sight of Eris while one of the newest Turks, Nemesis, wings Esu. Tseng misses and is struck down by Rashnau, while General Sephiroth and Lieutenant General Fair fight against Seti.

You see Eris swooping down and realize the being is going for Esu, who lies wounded at Nemesis's feet. You remember who she was before she was a Turk and and you can not allow Eris to destroy her. You use your flame, made all the more powerful by the vile Mako running through your veins, the only thing The Creature was ever good for.

As Eris goes up in flames Seti gives the command to retreat and Rashnau gathers Esu and Eris to him while Seti carries the bodies of Bamapana and Keku.

Two dead, two wounded and all it took was two regiments. They will return, more than likely they will all be brought back. And you, you will go on until there is nothing left of you. As you head for the base camp, and hours of fighting with Palmer and Heidegger and ShinRa, fucking ShinRa, the old lie floats up to you from the recesses of your mind: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

The line at the end means it is sweet and fitting to die for the homeland.

I will most likely not be finishing this. It just depends on how well it is recieved and what pops into my head.