Chapter One - The TrainEdit
The scarlet engine thundered down the tracks, kicking up an impressive cloud of dirt behind it as it wound its way through a foresty and mountainous region. The sky was a perfect shade of azure and puffy white clouds that looked as soft as cotton candy hung like sentinels over the land. It was peaceful...and yet perhaps too peaceful.
"Ugh." groaned a young man within the train. He sat facing the direction the train traveled in, a look of pure exasperation on his face as he made a poor attempt at containing his pure frustration. He had thick brown hair and what seemed to be azure eyes, though his left eye was concealed by a black eyepatch. He was leaning up against the window, one cheek to the cold glass as he scowled. Directly across from him sat a red-haired boy who looked so similar to him it was clear that they were fraternal twins. The red-haired twin was smiling at his impatient and dark-haired counterpart, who had been squirming restlessly.
“You should try to calm down, El.” the red-haired twin, his face lighting up with an amused smirk as his brother squirmed in his seat impatiently. “It’s not like we get to ride a train every day. I think it’s nice to have a rest after all the running around we do.”
"A rest?" the brown-haired kid alchemist whined. "Callan, this is torture! I'm about to give the conductor a little rest in the hospital if we're not let off this goddamn train soon!" Elliott - the brown haired alchemist - threw himself back down in his seat and pouted like angry toddler, the resulting expression leaving Callan with a grin on his face.
“Well I think it’s nice to have a break.” threw in Callan, who was strong in the belief that the pair of them had not gotten a decent amount of rest since they started out towards Central.
“A BREAK?! I’m going to break the conductor’s neck if he doesn't speed this old clunker up! It’s so boring that I can’t even take a nap!” Elliott growled heatedly. He crossed his arms and sat back in his seat, harrumphing. Once again flashed his toddler's pout and Major Armstrong looked the pair of them over curiously, seeming to be enjoying the tranquil train ride as much as Callan did.
"Well we can't throw a nuclear war of a tantrum every time you want to take a nap. Let's be practical here." Callan objected. "How's your eye doing?" Elliott opened his mouth and closed it again as his left hand moved up to gently push the eye patch out of the way. It revealed his other eye, which was not azure, but solid white. Elliott was blind in his left eye. A scar crossed it, but it was unrelated to the damage the eye itself had suffered. As he'd reached up to move the patch, his left arm sleeve slid down and revealed a slight glint of metal where there ought to be skin. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down to cover it.
“Have you no patience, Elliott Stroud? Once we reach the junction at Hiessgart, Central will be a stone’s throw away!” Major Armstrong snorted. Elliott grumbled under his breath regretfully; it was common knowledge that he disapproved of having the major sent with them. In Elliott's eyes it was an insult to have to be "chaperoned" and he took it as a message from Mustang that the man didn't believe he was capable of taking care of himself.
“We went to Hiessgart once before with our master. We'd gone to see this dude named Wilhelm that was real good at alchemy like our master was.” Elliott remarked, remembering how he and Callan had boarded the train years ago with their grizzled alchemy mentor. It was their master - a skilled alchemist named Gannen - that had taught them how to utilize their particular techniques. Elliott was known as the "Lightning Alchemist", and purely by accident too. Startled and nervous during his exam when something went wrong while showing off, he had nearly killed himself when he produced lightning while trying to produce fire the way Gannen had taught him to. Despite this, Elliott specialized in fire alchemy above all. Not the kind of fire alchemy that Roy Mustang specialized in...it was a bit simpler than that.
On the other hand, Callan was a practiced wind alchemist, who found himself being dubbed the "Jetstream Alchemist". Callan had a natural feel for the wind and had begun using that to his advantage when learning under Gannen. The two boys had always had a knack for their elements, but it was Gannen who had helped them refine this talent so they could be used like precision weapons.
“The professor had a daughter named Selene that was also an alchemist." Callan recalled as he ran a hand through his red hair. “She was a really terrific alchemist. About our age at the time, but she was pretty experienced.” The two boys even more vividly recalled that excursion they had made with their mentor in years past.
“Is that so? A genius girl alchemist, eh?” Armstrong pressed, curious.
“A cold-hearted genius.” Elliott snarled. “We were so nice to her the whole time and she never even bothered to see us off.”
“She might have been sick, El.” Callan suggested. "Or maybe you just weren't her type." Elliott stuck his tongue out at his twin brother playfully.
“Maybe it just hurt too much to say goodbye to you strapping young lads.” suggested Armstrong as Elliott rolled his eyes at how sappy that sounded to him.
“I bet now she’s a great al-” Callan started.
Just then, the train shook with the force of an earthquake. Elliott was unceremoniously pitched forward and slammed face-first into the seat in front of him, while Callan caught himself before he could be subjected to the same fate. Elliott, rubbing his face angrily, let out a beautiful stream of choice curse words that would have made a truck driver proud. Callan glanced apologetically at Armstrong, who glanced about the train curiously as Elliott ended his stream of swears and stood. The intercom suddenly crackled to life, making them jump.
“We are the People’s Eastern Revolution Front. We have assumed control of this train.” said a clear male voice over the intercom. While he repeated himself, the twins turned and shot each other one of their significant looks, while Armstrong stared up at the intercom, frowning.
“Sounds like a melting pot of existing names to me.” Callan jested. “You reckon we can take these guys seriously?”
“I certainly haven’t heard of them.” Armstrong chimed in, brushing himself off.
“It’s just another bunch of train-jacking loons, that’s the only kind of passenger on trains aside from us nowadays.” Elliott snorted. He let his face fall into his palm by means of an exasperated sort of facepalm. If anyone was more tired of train hijackers, it was Elliott Stroud, who felt like he was dealing with them nonstop.
“Aren't you going to do something?” Armstrong asked after a pregnant pause.
“Eh, I’ll let someone else take care of it.” Elliott yawned. He then saw the chilling stare sent his way by Armstrong, and changed his mind on the spot. “On second thought, Major, you can’t take these nuts by yourself, I mean, that would be tedious work for one person.” This launched Armstrong into one of his tirades, and his shirt was off more suddenly than the explosion only a minute ago. As if the timing couldn't be any more convenient, some men burst into the compartment.
“Hold it right the-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU PEOPLE?!” one man cried. He wore brown clothes and looked positively surprised at the strange trio he saw. Elliott stretched, groaning, while Armstrong remained shirtless and posing.
“Here we go.” Callan sighed, standing up straight.
“Stay still! Didn't you people hear the announcement? This train’s now under the control of the Eastern Liberation Federation.” the man shouted, looking bewildered. Callan cocked an eyebrow at this news.
“Well it looks like they were above playing rock-paper-scissors to decide which name they wanted.” Callan pointed out dryly. Elliott scowled the men.
“I've just about had it!” Elliott complained loudly. He’d had enough of trains he was on always being hijacked and felt it was high-time someone made a very long and extensive complaint to the transportation committee. He snarled, ready to practically breathe fire if need be, which was strangely not too far off-base from what his attacks usually consisted of.
“More goons.” Callan sighed, just as exasperated as his brother.
“Why do we always run into total whackjobs?” Elliott shot back.
“Hey, Ginger and Shorty, no one gave you permission to chat. Just shut up and fork over the valuables.” the second man demanded. He was grimy and grubby, unshaven and wearing old clothes that smelled like cabbage. Elliott wrinkled his nose as the cabbage-smell wafted over to him.
“This is perfect!” the flat-topped first exclaimed. “Take the goods from the muscleman and the ginger and get your butt over here, shorty.”
“Who do you think you’re calling short?” Elliott snapped. Callan rolled his eyes in a sort of way that plainly revealed how common this situation was when it came to baddies. He moved away from Elliott a bit, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of his brother's attack.
“Heh, you of course. Who the heck else is there, ya shorty?” the man snarled. Callan was thankful of his current distance from Elliott, knowing the explosion of anger that would ensue from his height-sensitive twin brother.
“I’M GOING TO GIVE YOU A TASTE OF HELL, YOU DUMB BASTARD!” Elliott screamed, clapping both hands and sliding one quickly off the other. The friction was enough to sent a powerful and concentrated jet of flame that shot the man through the wall of the train and out into the unknown. An intense heat wave resonated through the corridor, vanishing as the last trace of Elliott’s attack did.
“An alchemist?” the other man cried, gun up. He backed up, trying to pull a piece of cloth with markings adorned on it out of his pocket, but he was launched into the wall, courtesy of Armstrong’s alchemic attack, which tore mercilessly through an entire row of seats.
“Well that was fast.” Callan remarked dryly, striding down the aisle to where the man lay unconscious. He picked up the cloth, examining it with a curious eye. Any alchemist could tell what the cloth was for, especially a knowledgeable one like Callan.
“Who are these guys and what the hell do they want with this train?” Elliott asked, looking annoyed as he brushed himself off and tousled his hair intentionally. He still felt like a lengthy complaint to the transportation committee was necessary.
“Hey, what’s going o-” One muscular blond man bandit said as he entered their car, shocked to see two kid alchemists standing triumphant over his companions. He flew face-first into the wall, receiving an uppercut from Callan. Callan smirked and brushed his hand across the fist that did the deed.
“How do we split this up?” Callan asked as he glanced first towards the back cars and a door leading up front, then pausing to gesture at a ladder that led up to the roof.
“Alright Major, how about you stay back here and try to figure out what the explosion was from. I'll take the roof and Callan will take the inside of the train and work our way up to the front." Elliott suggested. "Sound good?"
"As good a plan as any, Elliott Stroud." Armstrong agreed with a nod.
“But watch out, guys. These bandits are practicing alchemy.” Callan said, lifting up the cloth with symbols that the one man had tried to pull out of his pocket. "They're probably amateurs, but it's better to be safe than sorry."
“I know it too well.” Armstrong said.
“Let’s go!” Elliott cried, and both twins rushed forward. Elliott grasped the rungs of a metal ladder that led up to the roof and dutifully clambered up, two rungs at a time. Callan opened the door to the car ahead of them and slipped in soundlessly, having excellent stealth skills. Braving the fierce wind, Elliott swung himself onto the roof, clambering on top just in time to see some of the hijackers. His hair and jacket were blown back from the wind, and he felt the effect of it made him look very cool. Elliott had fought on the roof of a moving train once before and knew that it took some level of skill to adjust and overcome disorientation. He had reoriented himself in moments to the train’s roof. Now, he only took mere seconds to adapt.
“Let’s get this brat.” one of the men snarled. He wore a bandana over his short, dirty blond hair. His jacket was frayed and tattered, and a faint odor of stale-hard liquor that made Elliott wrinkle his nose with disgust as it wafted over to him. Did all of these bandits have to smell terrible?
“Yeah, we can just chuck him off.” another with a scraggly brindled beard said, almost chuckling.
“I’d like to see you come and try that.” Elliott taunted haughtily. The men shuffled their way across to him, but he already knew what to do. He grinned broadly as moved in close and kicked, catching one man in the groin. The man lost his balance and toppled off of the train, but two more men lunged at Elliott. A girl suddenly stepped in, flipping over to them and skillfully kicking one off and landing a flip that caught one man square in the jaw hard enough to send him sailing off of the train. Elliott’s jaw dropped and he stared at the newcomer as she smoothly strode over to the square opening that led into another compartment.
“Coming?” the girl asked, snapping Elliott quickly from his awe. He sheepishly made his way over to her. She was beautiful, with brown hair and blue clothes.
“Yeah... thanks.” Elliott stammered as he dropped down inside the train once more, the girl following his lead. Just then, Callan slid into the corridor of the train silently. His grin changed to a look of surprise when he saw the girl
“Cleared out.” Callan said in a bold tone. “Who is this?”
"I'm Kelly Stephenson, the Tide Alchemist." she explained. "I was heading to Hiessgart to see family, but somehow I ended up clearing a train of bandits. Who are you two?"
"We're the Stroud twins." Callan explained. "I'm Callan and he's Elliott."
"Ah, I've heard of you." Kelly replied with a smile. "The Jetstream and Lightning alchemists, if I'm correct?"
“These guys are pathetically easy.” Elliott chimed in contentedly, rubbing his forehead for a moment. It was hard to not appreciate the incredible fortune in having not even just three, but four state alchemists on board a train at once. The hijacking was made so much easier by the aid.
“I’ll say. They didn't come aboard this train knowing how to take down a state alchemist, much less four. I think they’re feeling pretty dumb right now.” Callan replied, grinning as the door that led to the next compartment slid open. A shabby-looking trio of hijackers was there, smirking stupidly.
“We've got company.” Elliott alerted the others, smirking and bumping his knuckles against his palms in a threatening manner.
“Hey, what do you brats think you’r-” one man started, but he fell over, for Callan had launched Elliott at him, and the dark-haired boy had aimed a kick right at his jaw. Kelly kicked the second man’s legs out from under him, and Elliott leaped onto him, aiming a blow to the head that knocked him out quickly. The third man tried to run, but Callan thrust his fist out in a quick hook that made contact with the side of his head, resulting in a sickening thud. Elliott quickly proceeded to whale on the last man as he tried getting up, hitting his head with as much force as he could muster.
“Jeez, El. You could have given him a concussion.” Callan remarked, smirking.
“It’s not my fault he has an abnormally thick head.” Elliott cried back as Kelly giggled. “I could have given someone else a concussion with that cranium!”
“El, relax. I’m only kidding.” Callan chuckled. “Now let’s go and wipe out the rest of these imbeciles.”
“Just what I've been waiting for.” Elliott shot back with a grin as they flung open the door to the next part of the train.
All along the train they had beat up criminals. By the time they were about to head in towards the front, the three state alchemists were growing weary of the seemingly endless supply of hijackers that needed a good beating. As fun as it had been to kick some butt, the repetition of it was starting to annoy Elliott to no end.
“I feel like I’m playing exterminator.” Elliott growled testily, scowling as he shuffled half-heartedly towards what they hoped would be the final wave of amateurs. Callan winced looking at the train that lay behind them. Elliott had not particularly cared how much damage was done to the train, and it really showed from how the previous cars looked. It was as though a tornado had hit from within the locomotive. Hoping they wouldn't be billed for damages, Callan slid the door to the front compartment open, followed in by Kelly and his brother.
There were a lot of men in military garb, standing around an unshaven and sandy-haired man with a black military uniform on. The man had big lips and he gawked at them like a fish out of water as they entered the compartment. Elliott crossed his arms and smiled. An awkward silence presided over them for a moment.
“What the...wh-who the hell are you kids?” the sandy-haired man asked, trembling slightly as though caught in the act. "And what're you smilin' about, kid?"
“Well THAT’S certainly so very intimidating.” Elliott remarked dryly. “This moron doesn't even know how to intimidate a pack of teenagers that comes walking into his headquarters.”
“Look at his uniform, El.” Callan said, sounding worried. Kelly gasped and Elliott frowned a bit, scrutinizing the black garb this man wore. Elliott bit his lip.
“I've noticed. A military guy, an MP, in fact.” Elliott observed as he scanned over the pack. “Aren't they supposed to be elite?”
“Well this guy...” Kelly began, but the MP interjected.
“Hey, hey, hey! Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” fish-face cried. “You brats can’t hope to get outta here alive...”
“El, that's cute. He thinks he can take us on." Callan snickered. The sandy-haired man merely gulped at the challenge posed by them.
“Dealing with these morons is making me bored.” Elliott complained loudly in an offhand manner. He clapped his hands together, and smirked devilishly. “I’m gonna wipe them out.”
“Do remember to hold back. We don’t need any murder in our files.” Callan said tactfully.
Elliott whizzed over to the bar table of this lounge compartment and leaped over it, instantly launching into a kick when one of the men came to get him. Calla dodged the blows of one bandit and was exchanging them with his own quick strikes. The MP was in Elliott’s line of vision, so he spun into the man’s direction and leaped atop him. Elliott landed on the man’s back and the man thrashed around, trying to dismount the teenage alchemist. Elliott saw Kelly delivering a devastating groin shot to one man, who rolled over looking like he was about to vomit. There were a few furious moments of hasty kicking and punching from both parties, but Elliott’s motley trio of state alchemists stood triumphant in the end. Elliott stood threateningly over the downed MP, who gulped, looking even more like a fish.
“Mind explaining what’s going on here?” he asked, annoyed. He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, now damp with perspiration.
“Wh-who do you think you are? I ain't telling you anything, kid!” the sandy-haired MP yelled. Elliott took a slow and deliberate step closer, and the man squeaked with fear.
“Sir, it would be a lot easier if you just told us what was going on. My brother doesn-” Callan began, but Elliott took strides over to the man.
“No! Nooo! Don’t hurt me! I’ll tell you everything. I-I was just running away...” the MP cried out.
“Running away from who?” Elliott snarled threateningly, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“From...other military policemen.” the MP blurted out. “I was framed for a crime, so I had no choice but to flee...”
“If you didn't do it, then why did you run? You do realize that’s going to make everyone believe you did do it now, right?” Kelly reasoned.
“If life were that easy, I wouldn't be in so much trouble.” the man shot back. “It’s a conspiracy! We wouldn't all be on the run if there wasn't a warrant out for all of us!”
“All of us? What do you mean ‘all of us’?” Elliott asked, crossing his arms with a scowl.
“Except for the few we picked up on the way, we’re all ex-military alchemists.” the MP explained, quickly as his eyes darted between his captors.
“So you’re saying that you’re all wanted for crimes and that all of you are perfectly innocent?” Callan queried. He had a cynical tone to his voice.
“Yes! Well...some of them may really be criminals...but not me!” he cried. “I’m innocent, I swear!
“Innocent is a funny word coming from you, considering you hijacked a train and helped criminals escape authority.” Callan interjected, almost smirking.
“Hah, that’s true.” Elliott laughed. “You've just upped yourself into a Class A criminal.”
“I didn't mean to cause such a scene! I wanted it to be covert!” he cried.
“Exactly what about hijacking a train is considered covert?” Kelly asked, exasperated. "I should imagine stealing a large transport vehicle used by the public would probably be one of the least covert things you could do."
“We only wanted to get to Hiessgart!” the man shouted. “I’m not lying!”
“Why Hiessgart?” Elliott responded quickly, his brain strides ahead of the conversation. The other two were looking alarmed as well. Hiessgart didn't seem like it would be a safer place for criminals than any other town in the country.
“The only one on our side was General Genz Bresslau. And he was the one that told us to take shelter at Hiessgart, because the town was establishing an autonomy of alchemists.” the man explained, panicked. “The only way for guys like me to get there was by borrowing a train. I was going to wait it out in Hiessgart until the dust settled, and then prove my innocence.”
“Well I hope you like being billed, because a considerable amount of damage has been done to this train.” said Callan sarcastically, though his point was valid considering the literal train wreck that lay behind him.
“An autonomy...a self-government by alchemists. I've never heard of something so far-out.” Elliot remarked, rubbing his forehead. “It’s possibly one of the wildest things I've ever heard."
“I can’t see how that would work.” Kelly said, frowning with what looked like conservative motherly concern despite her young age. “It would be like putting a city under the rule of a five year old. There has to be at least some level of responsibility...”
“But the leader is one of the Ten Great Alchemists...Professor Wilhelm Eiselstein.” the man blurted out once more, clearly sharing whatever he thought to be helpful to his cause of not being murdered by Elliott.
“WHAT?!” Both twins cried, shocked. Kelly instantly turned to face the stunned twins, equally surprised by their reactions.
“We heard he’s calling alchemists from all over the country. That’s all I know.” the man responded quickly, eyes still wide with fear.
“El, what does this mean?” Callan asked. The twins both gave each other one of their signature significant looks.
“I don’t have a clue. Couldn't it be a different Eiselstein?” Elliott asked, turning to face Callan. Kelly eyed both twins carefully, taking in the information.
“Has to be. Why would he be sending out a call for alchemists?” Callan asked. “He’s a great one himself.”
“Maybe...” Elliott sighed as he struggled for an answer. He bit his lower lip again, this time out of confusion and anxiety.
“He’s getting away!” Kelly cried suddenly, and both twins whipped around as the sandy-haired MP jumped up and bolted out the door on the other side of the compartment. The three alchemists charged after him.
The wind whipped Elliott’s hair back as he stepped out and saw Kelly beginning to climb the steel rungs. As he did, there was suddenly a flash from above, and the man let out a cry and fell off the side of the train. Kelly waited cautiously on the steel ladder, not wanting to be seen while Elliott and Callan turned and nodded. A second later, Elliott had propelled Callan up in the air, and he landed smoothly on the top. Elliott swung up beside him as Kelly joined them from the climb. A mohawked military man with an automail arm sat, smoking a cigarette.
“Who the hell are you? That uniform and badge...” Elliott muttered, perplexed. The man was much bigger than he was, but Elliott knew that size was no guarantee of strength and was undeterred.
“An MP, a Senior Colonel at that.” Callan added as he scrutinized the uniform. Elliott saw the telltale signs of Callan preparing for a fight as he drew in a deep breath and let his arms spread slightly from his sides, as though gaining a feel for the wind.
“I’ll bet this is Genz.” Elliott snarled, glaring at the man intensely. The man's gaze met his.
“Heh heh heh.” the man laughed. “And what if I am?”
“Well, then you sure look a lot uglier than I thought you did.” Elliott shot before Callan could talk some sense into him. He watched as Genz paled with anger. “And you’re in for some hell, courtesy of me.”
“Better watch your mouth, punk. I am Genz Bresslau, the Armor-Piercing Alchemist, strongest in the military.” Genz bragged.
“Wait a minute,” Callan interjected. “How come I've never heard of you if you’re the strongest?”
“Strongest my ass.” Elliott snorted. “Even a kid could probably take you down. You’re nothing but a cocky prick with a superiority complex.”
“I've taken care of my incompetent subordinate. Now you brats are my only problems left.” Genz growled. “Nothin’ personal, mind you. You got in our way and you got no one to blame but yerselves. Buncha dumb kids.”
“I've had enough chitchat.” Elliott snapped back. “Someone’s gotta take out the trash. It’s starting to stink.”
“And it’s going to be us that takes out the garbage, I presume?” Callan asked, receiving a curt nod from Elliott. "It's a shame, there really is so much trash today ..."
“Hey, wait a minute...you two can’t be....”
“The Stroud twins? We sure are.” Elliott bragged, puffing out his chest. “Want me to spell it out for you on that thick skull of yours?”
“Hoo boy, I've been wanting to meet you guys!” Genz cried out, suddenly excited. Elliott pulled a face of pure disgust, and Callan chuckled.
“Please, let’s get this over with.” Elliott sneered. “I've met too many idiots today, and by far you’re the biggest.”
Genz lunged forward to grab Elliot. The boy dodged, feeling a large arm whiz a few inches to his right. He launched into a kick then, but Genz was quicker than he anticipated and deflected him. Elliott rolled, barely catching the edge of the train. Genz walked towards that end of the train, about to kick Elliott off-board but suddenly spun around as a sharp shard of ice whizzed by, grazing his ear. Kelly and Callan appeared in Elliott’s line of vision, having combined their brands of alchemy to create something new. Elliott clambered back onto the train from his precarious hanging position on the side. He then spun in a low sweep kick, taking Genz off balance as Callan buried his fist into Genz’ stomach. The bigger man gasped for air and ducked back, but not enough. A swift jet of flame fired by Elliott caught him on the arm and singed a hole in his sleeve, and he recoiled with a yelp. He was unable to keep up with the three young alchemists and eventually withdrew.
“I...I can’t lose!” Genz bellowed angrily, clutching his barely-together automail arm that had taken quite a beating from Callan and Kelly's barrage of icicles. Elliott panted as he stood closer to Genz than the others. Though sweaty, he was fine. The battle was not the hardest he had ever fought, and with the others it was a laughably easy win.
“You just did.” Callan pointed out. “At least you can brag about being taken down by the Stroud twins and company. Maybe we can sign your bruises so they believe you.”
“You brats won’t see the last of me! I’ll get you back for this!” Genz yelled, backing up.
“I see we're going for the cliche villain line.” Callan sighed.
“You’ll see me again...especially you, damn snot-nosed shrimp.” Genz sneered, looking right at Elliott. This time, it was not just Callan who sensed danger; he and Kelly were unable to prevent Elliott’s explosion before it happened.
“GO TO HELL YOU MOHAWKED MORON!” Elliott shouted, transmuting a cannon onto the roof and firing at him. Several things happened at once. Genz leaped off the train with a smirk, missing the cannonball, which flew into the dark tunnel ahead. There was a thundering crash coming ahead as they were almost cloaked in darkness. Through the flickering light of the entrance that shot behind them, Callan slid open an emergency roof shaft and allowed Kelly to jump inside. He found Elliott cursing and pulled his brother down into the shaft before shutting it. Elliott landed inside the front of the train with a thump and could hear the others but not see them as a terrible sound of rock hitting train engulfed them, drowning out Elliott’s cries as he remembered Major Armstrong and thought of what kind of trouble he was about to get into with Mustang once the man found out that he was responsible for the train wreck.
All of a sudden, a peaceful train ride didn't seem so bad.