[i]She breathed heavily, pain hammering in her sides. She couldn't bear it. It was tearing her apart. It gave no respite. And the hammering blows of the man's leg kept hitting her dilated waist with a wet sound. It was killing her. Although, her cries and screams were not centered in this fact. For, she wasn't the only in danger because of the merciless assault.

"Albert, you'll kill the baby! Please, in the name of Ishvala! Stop!"

Albert tilted his head. None of his formerly concerned and warm features were present. His face was twisted and contorted like worn leather in the verge of breaking, his eyes wide open with the nasty glint of madness upon him.

"A state alchemist cares not for an Ishvalan nor her halfbreed bastard!"
[/i]

The nightmare forcefully awoke her, springing back to her feet and panting heavily. A couple of nearby rats squeaked as she pried herself of the rag she had used to sleep, squinting to adjust her sight to the dark, and damp location of the abandoned warehouse. She was back in central, after jumping in a train as stowaway. Her trip had been a waste of place. The rumours had been false. She had expected a secret laboratory of a dastardly alchemist, and instead she had met a wretched buffoon only worth of being squashed because he had fallen prey to his base instincts.

[i]Not quite, there was a  State alchemist.[/i] She thought to herself, as she shuddered so slightly. She had spared him. His eyes... were dead. Why had she doubted? Her task was not an easy one. Was it because, much like her, said alchemist was living in eternal damnation? 

She couldn't afford being merciful a second time. This was central. She could not avoid the main issue and powerhouse any further. The days of smiting just peripheral alchemists had to come to an end. From here on, she would have to face the full wrath of Amestrian military in her crusade.

She breathed deep as she stretched. So many things to do...

---Some Time Later---

"Sergeant! Come here quick!" The guardsman yelled, his rifle unslung and ready. Just when he had found a cozy and nice job guarding the front gate of the Amestrian Central Command, and having got a girlfriend, things had to happen. Was God that cruel?

"What is it, soldier Schwein?" The burly man with the chiseled jaw, and a beard that would make a lumberjack bellowed, the uniform in the verge of ripping as he flexed his chest.

"Sir..." He said, pointed to an open bag. "It just...appeared out of nowhere. Sir."

"My...god." The burly man choked as he picked up the bag, examining its contents. A dead head, tongue drooping saluted him. His visage was contorted, and his eyes wide open. He had a violent death. And furthermore, whomever decapitated him had the sweet time to carve in his forehead the word "TOLL" with a knife. The sergeant recognized the azure eyes, the prominent nose and the balding head with few white strands. The Beastmaster Alchemist. A chimera specialist who had a prominent role in the Ishvalan operation, and now retired to live with his family and grandchildren.

"Who could've done this to old B'?" The soldier chimed in, barely restraining his nervousness.

"That bitch." The sergeant snarled, cursing. "I'll inform our superiors. The Wraith is back in Central. And she's declaring war."