Red Light District
by Me And My God Complex
This is inspired by 'Shatterglass' which is an awesome book by Tamora Pierce. I have never been to a strip club, so some things may be off. Cough. NA di don't own FMA.
X.O.X.O.X
"How the mighty have fallen on wings of darkness, leaving the weak and foolish on wings of light."
X.O.X.O.X
The sultry rolls, eloquent thrusts, the breath taking and passionate experiences. Male on male, female on female, male on female. French and butterfly kisses, falling upon each other, a never ending experience of lust. Hot nights, plenty of well-placed gropes. Flesh sold by the pound without a care for human rights, flashes of skin, given willingly or not. Illegal trades of drugs and poison and weapons, underground markets, strip clubs and whore houses. This is in essence the pleasure district of Central City, more commonly known throughout Amestris as the 'Red Light District'.(1) A place of legal prostitution and much more.
People of every race, culture religion and background travel from the four corners of the World to visit the Red Light District, placed just on the outside of Central. It's fame has gone as far as the winds, traversing barren landscapes to populated cities. When a teen or so runs away, most seek fortune in this pleasure district. By far the largest (and perhaps only) district as such, one knows that upon reaching the red lights which give the area it's name that you have found the biggest tourist attraction in Amestris.
Mostly the authorities do not bother with the crimes and problems of the Red Light. There's too many to count. Catch one drug dealer and two feet away some one will be buying cocaine. Even a stripper or two could turn up dead and frankly, the police wouldn't care much. Just fill out some forms, and go worry about something in the 'healthier' areas of the city. People in the Red Light's are treated no better than animals, which is mostly correct because it's inhabitants lose their humanity to survive. If you can't knife a certain person, steal a certain thing, do a certain job, you're better off ending it quickly. No one wants to starve to death or get stabbed in the back in the lonely and cruel streets, where you'll just get picked up by 'Body Collectors' who's jobs are worth more than your life.
No one cares.
Of course, you may ask why some one would choose such a life. The answers as a high a number as the crime rates. Running away, getting kicked out, escaping from the law, out for a good time, poverty, war. The list goes on and on, written over the many faces of the Red Light's occupants. They put on a cheerful facade, to please owners, masters, bosses and customers.
It's a cheap way to get money, drugs, alcohol, a good time. It's like moths to a flame, glimmering in the darkness and drawing the attention of the poor souls. The Red Light District is over glorified; it's filth is swept under the carpet by people hastily trying to clean up for unexpected guests.
No presentable person will sully themselves with the vermin attached to Central called Red Light's.
This is the unwritten rule which the 'higher' social classes follow. Break it, and there will be the unsaid shame on everyone's faces. It will all be silent, a silent yet taunting punishment. Silent, forced to struggle in your own. Have you ever screamed to have no one hear? Have you ever bled and not had anyone help? The Red Light District is a silent world.
But, enough doom and gloom. Maybe we should nip on down to a tea parlor and have some Earl Grey. Heard it's quite delicious actually. But first, Edward Elric must be introduced.
After six years of sweat, blood and grime, the Elric brothers managed to achieve their end which is the Philosopher's Stone. The details on it's recovery are unknown, but at least no civilizations were wiped out, one could tell you that. Using it's alchemy enhancing powers and ability to bypass Equivalent Trade, Alphonse Elric was returned to his body (he's now a handsome seventeen year old with long, dirty blond hair and silver-blue eyes) and Edward Elric gained back his limbs.
Shortly before retrieving what had been lost to him, Edward quit his military position, like he always said he would. The eighteen year old then faded into obscurity with his brother, telling no one where they went. They disappeared without a trace; it was like they never existed at all. People in Resembool thought him to be in Central, and people in Central (mostly the militarists) thought them to be in Resembool. No one checked up on the two brothers, wanting to give them their privacy.
Little did they know that Edward and Alphonse were indeed in Central, but of course in the Red Light District. Alphonse is weak, and collapses if he strains his body too far, side effect of it remaining in the Gate for over six years. So he spends much time in bed with occasional, small workouts, laughing and chatting with Summer, a room mate chosen for her trustworthiness and ability to care for Alphonse Elric. Edward Elric was another matter. Forced to find enough money for himself, Summer and his brother, he was hard strained to find work. Leaving Alphonse alone was not an option; he's get raped, robbed or killed faster than one could snap your fingers. So Summer came into ploy. And Summer couldn't work because she was busy caring for Alphonse, whom she regarded as a brother.
That left it all on Edward's slim shoulders. So he got the best, highest paying job he could: work as a stripper at 'Pleasure Pulse', a rather classy strip club. It accepted other genders, so Edward found no trouble finding work there under the name 'Cookie', with chocolate-brown eye contacts to boot. He really had no wish to be discovered as the 'Full metal Alchemist' working at a strip club. So dignity shot and skinned, he wore the sluttiest outfits possible and worked his stuff. Which, he discovered, he was a natural at. (Which disturbed the teen to no ends.)
How the mighty have fallen on wings of darkness, leaving the weak and foolish on wings of light.
X.O.X.O.X
"Brigadier General, sir!" Lieutenant Colonel Havoc saluted stiffly as he faced Brigadier Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, who was doodling on a notepad. His onyx eyes jerked up to land on the smoker's face, and he gave the younger man in uniform a questioning and annoyed look.
"What is it?" Snapped the black-haired officer, one hand running through his silky hair. (2) The blond shifted nervously, handing over the manila folder with it's pertaining information.
"Another murder, sir. Sam Vants, age twenty-eight, female stripper, found dead in the Central Square's fountain." It was the ninth of a long string of murders occurring all over Central, all the men and women from the Red Light's District found in public places all across the 'clean' part of the city. Normally, the higher military personnel wouldn't be involved in such things, but all the murders were done by a rogue alchemist who had yet to be identified. The bodies were found in similar condition to that of Scar's victims, but Mustang knew Scar to be dead. He'd killed the Ishvarlan himself.
So the question was, 'Who and Why?' Strippers ((working as strippers was the only thing that linked the victims, apart from location of work)) didn't have much to offer, and weren't too important. Who'd bother attacking them?
As Mustang read over the documents, he continued his conversation with his subordinate. "Another one? It's only been a week since the last. Our serial killer's been busy." The man idly flicked over the page, reading the information which was the exact same for each victim. "Occupation: Stripper at 'Pleasure Pulse'."
"Same as all the others. The higher ups aren't too happy about this either. The last page has your orders, sir." Havoc tapped his cigarette in the ashtray on the Brigadier General's desk, which he used to burn papers and such on. Roy wrinkled his nose slightly in disgust, but was to captivated in his instructions to scold Haovc.
"They're saying that some one shall be sent in undercover to catch our killer." This caused the other men in the office to wince apprehensively: Breda, Falman, Havoc and Fury felt no desire to start stripping.
"Who shall it be, sir?" Liza Hawkeye, who had just entered with a new stack of paperwork, had caught the Brigadier General's conversation. She set the papers unceremoniously on Mustang's desk, standing stiffly next to Havoc so she could hear the information.
". . . Brigadier General Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, shall be chosen to work undercover at 'Pleasure Pulse' because of his alchemy abilities, body and good looks." The sourness in Roy's voice was completely evident. His subordinates all gaped at their boss, even Hawkeye. General Hakuro had called Roy Mustang 'good looking with as nice body'? What the hell?
That wasn't all. The man continued, disgust etched into his handsome face. "At fifteen hundred hours, an instructor will come in to teach Brigadier General Mustang the certain aspects needed to join 'Pleasure Pulse'."
". . ."
". . . . ."
". . . . . . ."
Hawkeye finally broke the silence, gaze dropping on the face of the clock which hung on a wall. "It's fifteen hundred hours now, sir. you instructor shall be in soon." As if summoned, a light knocking could be heard on the oaken door. Falman, being the closest, opened it to reveal a brown haired, green eyed man who carried an air of seduction like a cloak. He strode inside, eyes falling on his 'student' immediately.
"I'll ask for the others to leave please stand to the side. And don't leave: your boss here needs to be able to perform in front of an audience." His voice was brisk yet smooth. He walked with a slight twitch of his hips, which was probably something you couldn't shake, on or off the job.
"Who are you?" While his subordinates complied to the stranger's orders, Mustang simply fixed a steely gaze on the intruder. He wasn't happy at all about this new assignment.
"Your instructor for the next couple days. Name's Rodney. But my stage name is Mushroom. Don't ask: my boss was on crack when I got assigned that name. Now come here: I have to see you in full." There was something about Rodney's tone that reminded the man of Hawkeye, so he obediently climbed to his feet. Who knew. Maybe if he caught the killer a promotion would be awarded. There was rumors that General Hakuro was just going to retire after catching the murderer, leaving his position up for grabs. Mustang wanted to grab it.
"They were right. You have a nice body. Now take off your shirt, and I'll teach you a couple moves." Rodney positioned himself in the center of the room, and indicated for the alchemist to follow suite. All Roy did though was stare in disbelief.
"Take off my shirt?" Roy repeated stupidly, massaging one temple with an annoyed look on his face.
"Yup. And do it fast; it's what you're here to learn, after all." Rodney gave him an expectant look, and slowly, feeling more embarrassed by the moment, made his way next to the stripper. Then, in a smooth, practiced gesture, he removed his military uniform then the white shirt underneath. he was still hoping this was a dream. He'd had similar dreams before, but they weren't this. . . GAY. Normally it was some hot chick, not a guy, telling him to remove his shirt, and he was at home, not work.
"You're a natural." Purred Rodney. Flashing the horrified Mustang a grin, he placed his hands on the man's waist. "Now, let's get started on some other moves, shall we?"
Roy Mustang swore that day that his giggling subordinates would not be working peacefully after this.
X.O.X.O.X
When Edward Elric, known as 'Cookie' to his co-workers, walked into Pleasure Pulse his next shift, he could tell something was the matter. The women, who were seated in their preparation room, where the strippers could hang out before and after turns, looked absolutely distressed. The men stood stiffly, some putting comforting arms and hands on the females. A horrible feeling settled in the pit o his stomach: the last time they'd looked like this, which had been a week or so ago, when Vash had been slaughtered by the killer alchemist. Edward wondered who it was this time. Work had become definitely more depressing than usual ever since in the past month strippers from their establishment had started to get knocked off.
"Who was it?" Asked the blond dully as he threw himself on a couch, landing half-way across Tai-Tai, the brown haired, blue eyed teen of nineteen. She was one of his closer friends, which was rather apparent by the fact he let her begin to stroke his hair absently, a stony mask on her face.
"Sammy." This caused Edward to frown angrily. Sammy had been a rather ornery woman who enjoyed chewing everyone out. But Edward also knew she had a five year old back home named Terry, and the little boy didn't deserve to be left motherless.
"What about Terry?" Questioned the alchemist. Fox, a tall, tall man with russet hair and a wicked sense of humor, answered Edward's question. "Dead. Throat slit. Suppose he tried to call for help." Edward tightened his fist. These were times when he still wished he had his State title and could still use it to help protect people. He couldn't now, since he was trying his best to cover up any ties to Edward, submerging himself in Cookie, which meant no alchemy.
"Hey, Goldilocks. You're up." Goldilocks, a man with short, spiky black hair got up, straightened out his outfit, and meandered out. His name was a long running joke among the co-workers. Goldilocks' departure was signal for the rest to head out. Edward tossed away his black coat, and pulled a bit at his tight black pants, 'ooh, sparkly!' drag top, which hung down a bit at the front a back to reveal his chest and back to the lusty customers.
"Time to go kill my innocence a bit more!" Cheered Edward. Some smiles were cracked around the room, as half or so of it's occupants left.
"Dearest Cookie, you're so sweet." Fox clapped a large hand on Edward's back, and he scowled at the man's pun. "That was terrible, Fox." Commented the boy. This got another smile out of Fox, who then rearranged his face into that of a sultry, inviting one all the workers knew and used.
It was a tough job; you had to learn how to pick yourself off the ground and continue on, no mater how bad an event.
X.O.X.O.X
The last few days had been hell to the normally cool and calm Brigadier General. He had to throw in all his flirtation powers and lustful looks and literally his entire self into his 'training'. It wasn't bad enough that next to totally destroying his decency, but his subordinates were allowed to make comments on how he wasn't 'hot enough' or 'turning them on', which had definitely freaked him out. Mustang had nearly died when Hawkeye had said, face straight as ever, "Sir, I suggest that you show your ass a bit more, unless you want to get turned down."
A LIVING HELL.
But now they were over. Blissfully over. The days had passed quickly, but not quickly enough. Rodney had finally left and not come back, heading back to his club, far far far away. Frankly, 'Mushroom' had been a disturbing experience. He'd kept touching Roy and saying he was fabulous at everything for a beginner. It couldn't get much worse. BUT IT WOULD! Now, instead of his shame being at least kept to his office, he was going to flash it off for the whole damnable Red Light's to see.
He had been driven into the district by a very amused Havoc. After threatening to burn and fire (ho ho!) the man more than once, he had been dumped unceremoniously in front of a midnight blue building which read 'Pleasure Pulse' in neon. He wormed past the bouncer who looked like he could take on Armstrong, he found himself in a mostly dim lit room, apart from the spotlights shining on the entertainers.
Mustang had watched them with a sick fascination for a short time, then made his way to the head honchos office. Frank Casher. The name suited the black man who was dressed in a fine suit, grinning widely, his blue eyes glittering behind sunglasses. That was where Mustang stood now, shifting impatiently as he waited for Casher to give him the job.
"So. . . Midnight, I think you look the part, but I have to see if you can act it too. HOODY! I HAVE A NEWBIE FOR YOU!" Mustang had flinched slightly as the large man raised his voice. Geez, was the guy trying to burst his ear drum? A woman came out from an adjoined room, long purple hair and eyes reflecting brilliantly in the light. She was wearing a silver and black outfit which showed a higher percentage of skin than coverage.
"Hey there. I'm Hoody. Here to see if you do well with a crowd." Her voice was low and sultry, and she carried it off without a thought. A purple manicured grasped his hand and hauled him through the door that she came by.
"Who wants to help me test out-what did you say your name was?" Announced Hoody. The last part she threw over her shoulder at Mustang.
"Midnight."
"Who wants to help test out Midnight here. He's rather hunky." There was a slight commotion as the room turned their gaze on Mustang, who had to stop himself from smirking. Yay. A lot of hot women thought he was good looking. At least one good thing was coming out of this. Women.
"I'll help." An extremely tall man with reddish hair stepped forward. Mustang barely contained a horrified look. There was no way he'd do anything of sexual nature near a man. Well, Rodney had been an exception. "So, young Midnight. Let's test out those looks. I think we finally found someone better looking than Cookie!" The bemused strippers tugged Mustang towards a new door. It led onto a brightly lit stage, where a couple poles stood. Roy hated the poles. Their day of training had been most embarrassing.
The alchemist allowed himself to get pushed towards a pole, glad his reflexes stopped him from falling down like an idiot. Grabbing the pole in one hand, he sank into his 'Strip Palace', as he'd lovingly dubbed it. The man found it easier to completely degrade himself if he was in his Palace. DAMN THIS STUPID MISSION! 'Think promotion! Think promotion!'
The beat picked up, an erotic tune began to pour from the speakers. Mustang did his thing, which the author shall not go into detail about. But when the song ended, he collected some bills, which had been tossed on the raised platform and strolled off-stage. Hoody and Fox both stood there, gabbing about what seemed to be bets on Cookie's real gender. 'I wonder who this Cookie person is that they keep talking about.' Wondered a confused Mustang. He waved a hand in front of the two, successfully gaining their attention.
"Nice job, Midnight. You must be a natural like Cookie." Again with Cookie. It was driving Mustang up the wall. Fox slung a friendly arm around Mustang's shoulders. "Hoody, you go tell the boss we'll take him. I'll go introduce him to his fellow workers." The purple haired stripper nodded and disappeared through another door. The Brigadier General was feeling rather lost. This building was nothing but doors!
Deciding to put his trust in—what had his name been? Fish? Foxer? Fox? Yes, it had been Fox---he got led through a black, battered door. Somewhere in his hazy memory ((Mustang believed the alcohol fumes had gotten to his head)) the Flame alchemist recognized it as the same door, which led to the room he'd met Fox. It was pretty pathetic, mostly designed for comfort instead of style. Battered couches and armchairs were scattered around the room, on which seated the strippers. The walls were pretty plain, apart from a few pictures of people performing, and the entire group together. A coffee machine rested against the far wall, definitely looking worse for wear.
Mustang liked this even less. Gritting his teeth, he walked into a position where his . . . co-workers. . . could see him.
"Is this a new member to our merry band?" A bald man with too many piercings, dressed in nothing but a pair of tight shorts questioned, light reflecting dully off his bare head. He had a beer bottle in one hand, and took a healthy swig after his question.
"Yes I am. My name is Midnight." Mustang said haughtily. He highly knew that he was above this sort of thing. Chances are his superiors were laughing at him as he stood there. Being forced to work . . . and live . . . in the Red Light District. Mustang dimly remembered that he was living in a shabby hotel not to far from here, meaning that he's be sleeping in a dirty bed instead of the nice, comfy clean one he had back home.
"Hey there! Try not to die, we're getting short on workers, and I'm not getting paid over time." A brown haired teen rose to shake his hand. Chuckles were sweeping the room at the young woman's words, which slightly disconcerted him. Did these people enjoy joking about murdered co-workers? That was sick.
Next thing he knew, the strong grasp of the strange girl had tugged him onto her scantily clad lap. Her free hand, which was not pinning him down began to stroke his hair, which felt rather nice but Mustang wondered vaguely if he was getting molested. He would hate to blow his cover so soon, but he did have a pair of gloves tucked into his boots, seeing as how his black pants were a little toot tight to hide such things. Speaking of his pants, they were riding up his crotch . . .
"Don't worry, she did that to me too. She's not gonna rape you." Roy's black eyes locked on the blond figure which he hadn't noticed as he was being groomed. Blond hair, brown eyes, black outfit. From this angle, Roy couldn't tell if the speaker was male of female.
"And you are?" The soldier raised a black eyebrow elegantly, wondering how his newest conversation companion knew what he had been thinking. Was it because the crazy woman had started petting them too?
"Cookie." The answer delighted Roy, who had been puzzling over who 'Cookie' was.
"I must say, you're very pretty, lady." Commented Roy. He watched from his slightly awkward angle as the assumed woman turned very red in the face and looked like she was about to explode.
"I'm a freaking man, you idiot." Cookie said this so tersely and clipped, Mustang could tell he was suppressing extreme rage. Cookie reminded him of someone, who he couldn't quite put a finger on.
"Well, it's not my fault if you look like one." Replied Mustang, shifting his weight so the leather pants weren't so tight between his legs. "Calling me an idiot is uncalled for." He said this in his best 'I'm Better Than You' voice, and the blond could clearly tell.
"What ever." Sneered Cookie, before pointedly turning his head away from Roy to start up a conversation with Foxy. Or was it Fox. The man couldn't remember.
"So, Midnight, why do you join our little group? Fame? Fortune? By the way, I'm Tai-Tai." Asked the blue-eyed teen stroking Mustang's head curiously. Roy rolled his onyx eyes, mouth opening automatically to deliver the well-rehearsed story.
"Well, me and my darling woman friend are trying to elope, but our families hardly approve, so I, being the wonderful fiancée I am, volunteered to get a job, since I didn't want Liza to work someplace like this." The dark haired man did his best to sound depressed and annoyed. It wasn't an entire lie. Liza Hawkeye had come with him. And she would be living with him. But they weren't engaged (sadly enough).
"She lets you dance half naked on stage?" Apparently Cookie was finished ignoring the 'new kid', and turned back, brown eyes confused. Roy blinked, and let out a sigh.
"She doesn't care, since she knows I love her." While some of the strippers (like Tai-Tai) 'awwed' and others (like Cookie) looked skeptical, Mustang glanced at the clock. "In fact, she'll be stopping by soon."
"Fascinating." Muttered Cookie, looking like he was puzzling over something. He gave the dark haired man a glare, and pointed to the door, which Mustang noted was being knocked on. "Then is that her?"
Hoody, being closest to the door, stood up and pulled it open, in order to reveal a exalted looking Liza Hawkeye, wearing a short pink dress with her blond hair curling around her shoulders. She saw Mustang, and her smile grew wider, something that definitely scared the man.
"Honey! The horrible man wouldn't let me see you, but I convinced him." Roy ignored the shocked look on Cookie's face to cover his own with a grin. He had no idea Hawkeye could pull the dumb blond act off. "And we got a phone call from Janny! He says that your Uncle Gruko is all happy about you leaving."
Roy immediately understood the code. Janny was Havoc, and Uncle Gruko was Hakuro. Apparently the man was glad the Colonel was gone. He smiled and allowed Liza to jump on his lap, maintaining the look of a happy couple. "That's great, darling. Oh. Meet my new co-workers, Tai-Tai, Fox, Cookie and some I don't know." Finished Mustang vaguely, waving an arm around the room.
"Wonderful! It's-" Liza cut off as she stared at Cookie, who shifted nervously under the cinnamon-colored gaze, which was obviously surprised. "Huh..." Liza began, hands dropping dangerously close to Roy's crotch. Silence fell, and it wasn't until Sunshine (a rather bitchy stripper) coughed pointedly that Cookie and Liza stopped having a staring contest.
"Something for you?" Quipped the blond stripper, and Liza immediately did the first thing that came to mind. She swung her arms around Cookie and squealed, high pitched as ever:
"What a cute little boy! Honey-baby, can we adopt him?" Mustang frowned as he stood up, very well aware that Hawkeye had noticed something about the teen that Mustang had overlooked. The sharpshooter wanted to discuss it, that was plain.
"Sorry Liza, I don't think so. Let's go." Mustang didn't really cared if he was required to stay longer. Just being there made him woozy. He had never liked strippers, and being one was quite disgusting. He grabbed Liza and pulled her up, just a tad startled when she practically jumped into his arms.
"Okay honey-baby!" Liza and Roy headed for the door, the dark-haired general just catching Cookie's muttered, "Good riddance." He really did remind Mustang of someone...
Once outside, and away from prying eyes, Roy faced Liza and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Lieutenant, I congratulate. I hardly recognized you." Mustang said, giving a pointed look at Hawkeye, who's face was now serious and no longer bubbly with joy.
"Thank you sir. And I have to say, those were the worst five minutes of my life." Liza replied in her straight-forward manner, and Roy found himself smirking. "Sir..."
"Call me Roy when we're off duty." Mustang paused, recalling an order. "Or Lee, as my name apparently is at the moment." Liza was one of his dearest friends. He knew he could speak normally with her, though it was hard at work. But they pulled through.
"Well, Lee, did you notice something odd about that Cookie? Something...familiar?" Liza hesitated with her words, earning herself a confused gaze from the onyx-eyed stripper. (couldn't resist)
"Sort of. Why?" Roy tilted his head curiously as he and she began to walk in the direction of their dingy apartment. Liza sighed, cinnamon orbs keeping an eye out for attackers.
"No reason Roy. No reason at all." They finished the walk in silence, Roy puzzling over her words. This was, by far, the oddest night of his life. Hawkeye in a dress. Him getting a job as a stripper. Meeting someone he recognized but just couldn't remember.
And the oddest thing was, that right at that moment, he thought of the Elric brothers, who had been missing for while. Tilting his head back in order to glance the twinkling stars, Mustang felt a faint tug in his gut of sadness.
'I wonder where they are now...'
X.O.X.O.X
Oh yeah..that's right. What should the pairing be, my wonderful reviewers? RoyXRiza or RoyXEd? I don't care either way, just don't suggest EdXWinry or something. And those who are reading my other stories. I currently have a serious problem. My dad deleted my computer account, and that means al my shit disappeared into a black hole of computer-ness, or at least my recent shit. Basically, all my stories I had typed up recently can't be accessed, and I only have some of my old stories ((really weird ones too)).Sorry for the inconvenience.
