Roy Mustang has been sent on a mission of blowing up a weaponry. You know, the usual stuff.
But is the mission as simple as it seems? Read to find out.
¡¡¡DISCLAIMER!!!
I own nothing other than the plot of this story. All credit goes to Arakawa se...
The art is from pinterest: Good luck by redsaka on Deviantart
"I'll be fine, Hughes," Roy Mustang groused, putting on his uniform. "Stop worrying."
"I'm not worried, I'm just concerned," Maes Hughes stated, his brows creased with worry. "After all, the reports are sketchy and its a solo mission."
"Again, I'll be fine. I just have to blow up a weaponry," Roy smiled at Hughes, "I'll be back before you know it."
Hughes deflated at that, "I know, I....just, just be careful, yeah?"
"Yeah," Roy sighed. He put on his ignition gloves and mentally went over the intel he was provided. Hughes wasn't wrong when he said that the report was sketchy, but it wasn't like he could refuse the orders given to him. He was supposed to sneak into a heavily guarded Ishvalan rebel base and blow it up along with the weaponry which was situated there. Apparently, they were receiving their arms and ammunitions either from black market dealers or from a mole in the military, and destroying them could give the Amestrian military a major advantage in the war against (genocide of) the Ishvalans. A seemingly simple, but dangerous mission.
Who else, but the Flame alchemist would be suitable for this?
He turned to Hughes, " Just take it easy and focus on recovering, okay?"
The man in question scoffed from his place in the cot, " I'm completely fine, Roy. The bullet just grazed me," it did not. Hughes continued grumbling, " I've been 'recovering' for two weeks already."
" You still aren't discharged," Roy reminded him. "And the wound hasn't healed."
"Yeah, yeah. You should be worrying about yourself. I don't wanna have to bury you."
" How about a bet then," Roy suggested, " If I die, my entire salary will be given to you. And if I survive," his eyes glinted with mischief, " you'll have to admit that you stole my quiche back in the academy in front of my entire unit," he paused, "and even to Gracia."
Hughes gawked at Roy, " That was years ago! Why are you still hung up on that?"
"Because," Roy said with mock anger, " The quiche were the only tasty food in the cafeteria, and you," he jabbed a gloved finger at Hughes, " swiped it off! Right as I was about to take it!" He made a dramatic hand gesture," And it was the last one left!"
" Aw come on already, I was there first," Hughes protested," and didn't you get back at me for that?"
" Oh please," Roy huffed, " I didn't swipe off the last quiche available just as someone was about to take it."
" ....You're never gonna let it go, are you?"
"Nope. Never."
" Fine. Sheesh," Hughes sighed with a small smile, feeling a little lighthearted, " Challenge accepted. I'm looking forward to the confession of my ' terrible' crime."
Roy grinned at him, before turning sombre, " Well," he waved, " I'll be going now," and he quietly walked out of the tent.
" Be careful. Please," Hughes said softly, praying for Roy's mission to sail smoothly.
.
.
.
.
.
As it turned out, Roy's mission, did not, in fact, sail smoothly.
Hughes, taking the last quiche: sorry pal, first come first serve.
Roy: so you've chosen death.
Another art I found on pinterest of Roy during the Ishval war:
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