Friends don't let Friends get Killed by Homunculi
Uneven footsteps echoed through the corridor.
A young woman dressed in military blue glanced towards the noise, sighing as she saw the all-too familiar figure of Lieutenant Colonel Hughes rounding the corner. It seemed that it was time once more to endure the man's indulgent rhapsodies on the beauty of his daughter. Bracing herself for the barrage of endless scrapbook photos which was surely seconds away, the woman grumbled, "Oh my, you're back again already. Who gets to hear about your daughter this time?"
There was no response.
No song of endearments, no excited cooing, no swish of photo paper. Only those heavy, staggering footsteps. And breathing. Strained, hoarse breathing. Frowning, the woman turned to get a better look at her superior officer – and gasped.
"Lieutenant Colonel, you're bleeding!"
The man stumbled past her, not sparing her a glance. His teeth were grit together, his eyes stared resolutely toward the phones stationed just past her desk. His right hand was clenched over his left shoulder. Deep, scarlet blood trickled over his blanched knuckles and soaked into the stiff fabric of his uniform. The woman watched him, rigid with shock, as he pulled in a painful breath and rasped, "It's nothing… I… I need a private line."
She didn't respond; the woman stared with wide eyes as Maes stumbled forward, arriving at the first of the phones. His hand pulled away from his shoulder, reaching out to grasp the receiver.
"I have to tell him…"
He lifted the phone.
Then he paused.
The Lieutenant Colonel made no move towards the dial, the fingers of his left hand limp at his side. An unreadable expression masked his face, covering any pain or conflict he may have been feeling. For a long moment he stood there, the phone in his hand, ready to be used. Anyone watching him might have thought that his thoughts had gone silent. The woman staring at him in silence deciphered nothing in his face, detected none of the swirl of bitter humor and despair which flowed through his mind as Maes Hughes mused to himself:
Privacy, in this building? Heh…
Then the receiver was back in its holder, Maes' hand slipping off it, a crimson smear left upon its glossy surface.
"Sorry. Forget I was here."
. . .
Despite his controlled expression, Hughes was very much in pain.
He staggered down the dark road, clenching his hand over his shoulder as if he could crush the pain in his grip – but he couldn't. It seeped through, creeping through his body in waves of sickening agony like the blood which left sticky trails down his front. It hurt, so much… That strange woman's weaponized fingers had pierced right through him, tearing through muscles and grazing bone to leave a white-hot pit of pain which flared with every jerky step Maes took. Every clack of his military boots against the pavement was accompanied by a fresh wave of agony, but he had to keep going.
I have to tell him.
The things he had discovered tonight… It made him feel sick just thinking about it. To think that the war in Ishval -all the fighting he and his compatriots had done, all of the lives they had taken, the terrible carnage that appeared in his dreams and made him wake up screaming- and the blooming conflict in Liore, the uprisings surging around Amestris' borders, so many skirmishes and deaths, were an inside job, a means to an end, the work of some scheming individual who was influening the Amestrian government…
It was an absolute nightmare.
But he knew.
Despite his pain, Maes grinned. Information was important. Now that he knew something terrible was stirring in Amestris, he needed to make sure this information got to the right people, the right person, someone with the cunning and courage to face this nightmare and beat it. The warm fire which protected the Amestrian people. The burning torch who lead his troops courageously into battle. The raging flame which would reduce their unknown enemy to ashes and burn, victorious and bright as the sun, on the dawn of a better Amestris. Maes knew just the man.
But could he reach him before it was too late?
Maes stumbled over an uneven rise in the sidewalk, gasping as the movement jarred his left shoulder.
You'd better be standing right next to your phone when I call…
A light breeze blew, stinging Maes' wound and whistling through the shadowy trees and dark hiding places along the road.
You'd better pick up quickly, before someone else finds me… They might have found me already…
A few meters away, yellow lamplight glinted dully off the frame of an old phone booth.
Be there… I'm counting on you, Roy.
He lurched, gasping, into the phone booth.
Maes' heart beat quickly as he seized the phone and dialed… Pick up, pick up!
"Good evening, Eastern Command."
"I need you to connect me to Colonel Mustang, right away!" Maes barked.
"I'm sorry," the receptionist answered, smooth and calm. "I am not allowed to connect from an outside line."
Maes growled, his fist tightening around the receiver. "You are speaking to Lieutenant Colonel Hughes! This is a matter of life and death!"
"Can I have your code, please?"
"What?! Are you trying to waste time?"
Maes wanted to scream. Couldn't she hear the urgency in his voice? He needed to talk to Roy now, before somebody found him! Before…
Before…
Somebody killed him.
Because the woman who'd gouged out his shoulder wouldn't be acting alone. Someone else would be along to finish the job, and none of Maes' men knew he was in trouble. The lieutenant colonel was on his own.
Maes gulped… Oh, Gracia… Elicia… He shook his head. There was no time to think about them… He had to contact Roy. Fishing through his pocket, Maes ignored the papers and photographs which fluttered around his feet as he pulled out a booklet of codes.
"It's uncle, sugar, oliver… Then eight, zero, zero."
As cool as ever, the receptionist responded, "Your code was verified. However, it seems that Colonel Mustang is unavailable."
"What!?" No, no, no… I need to tell him! I need to!
"Colonel Mustang has been on personal leave since yesterday. I'm afraid there's no way for us to forward your call to him; I don't have a personal number on file."
The words were like ice water dumped over his head. Maes' breath caught in his throat. He felt numb, like cold, cold hands were gripping his arms, his chest, and his mind, dragging him away from his last warm embers of hope, away from the only man he could trust with the information he needed to share.
"Is there anyone else I can connect you to?" The receptionist chimed.
Who else could I tell? Who else can I trust?
Maes' voice sounded strangely empty as he replied, "No. No one."
"If that's all, sir, I'm going to disconnect now. Have a nice evening." There was a soft click, then the warm fuzz of phone static cut off.
Lieutenant Colonel Hughes stood alone in a phone booth. The only sounds he heard were the soft sighing of the dying wind and his own ragged, pained breathing. His only company was knowledge, knowledge that would die with him. Knowledge that would die with him tonight.
Unless… Somehow… he could hide from whoever wanted him killed-
Click. The sound of a gun's safety being released.
Too late to hide.
Too late to tell someone.
Where were you, Roy?
Maes heart clenched as a firm female voice cut through the air. "I need to ask you to put down the receiver. Please, sir."
Something stirred in his numb mind… Maes frowned. That voice was familiar… But wrong.
"Go on, just hang it up."
Slowly, Maes turned toward the voice. His eyes widened.
"You look just like…"
That face, it was so familiar! And yet… and yet…
"But you're not."
Maes stared down his companion, the steely reflection of her gun glinting in his eyes. "Who the hell are you, lady?"
She cocked her head to the side, as if confused. "I'm Second Lieutenant Ross, sir. You've lost too much blood."
Nice try. But not nice enough. I know my officers. "Drop the act, already. You're not Second Lieutenant Ross. She has a mole under her left eye."
A cruel smirk spread slowly across her face… That expression looks so wrong on her… "You're observant. I can't believe I forgot." She raised her gun-free hand and tapped her cheek.
Red light flashed. Maes gasped.
No… That's not possible… That… People can't do that…
"There. How do I look now?"
There was a mole now, below her left eye, just where it ought to be. But the expression was still all wrong, and now her voice had changed too.
Maes could feel his control slipping, his mask breaking as shock split the seams of his face, leaving cracks for his dawning horror to appear through. "This is not happening… Please tell me I'm hallucinating or something…"
"You really are a smart man, Lieutenant Colonel. Did you ever think that'd be the cause of your death?"
Maes felt lost, lost in a world where someone's appearance could change in a flash of light, where fingers extended to become weapons and governments plotted to kill their own citizens. A place where friends were just out of reach. A place where family…
Maes' eye caught a photograph lying on the ground – it must have fallen out of his pocket when he had grabbed his codes. There he was, standing next to his beautiful wife Gracia, and his gorgeous, sweet, innocent Elicia, a broad smile on her face, reaching towards the camera, towards him, as if to pull him into the photograph, into a sunny, happy memory –
A place where family is just a memory you'll never see again.
Oh Elicia… I'm so sorry, honey… Resolve hardened in his mind. No. I'm not leaving you. Daddy's coming home for dinner.
"Come on. Have a heart, will ya? I've got a wife and daughter waiting for me."
I'll be there, Elicia.
"So the last thing I'm gonna do…"
I'll be there, Gracia.
"Is die on them!"
Maes palmed the knife hidden in his sleeve. He turned quickly, eyes flashing, blade glinting-
Gracia was there.
Hughes' heart stopped.
Gracia stood there smiling sweetly at him, and he was defenseless. Gracia pointed a gun at him, and the knife fell limp from his hand. Gracia's sweet smile turned into something cruel, malicious, evil, and so, so wrong… Hughes just stood there, gaping, not lifting a finger to defend himself against the woman he loved and trusted.
Gracia's mouth opened, and words came out in a voice that was wrong, so he ignored them. He looked into her eyes, and the color was right, but they were so wrong, cold where they should be warm, harsh where they should be kind… It broke his heart, to see his beautiful Gracia twisted into something so wrong.
Gracia, why are you so wrong? What's happened to you? What's happening to everything? Has some sort of strange alchemy changed you? Roy, why aren't you here to help me figure out why everything is changing? Gracia, why won't you smile like you're supposed to, and put the gun down? Where's Elicia? Why is everything so wrong? Oh, Gracia… Gracia… Gracia…
His mind was spinning. He couldn't handle it.
Defeated, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes shed a tear as he waited for his wife to shoot him.
Her fingers tightened around the trigger-
Snap.
The gun exploded in Gracia's face.
Shards of burning metal buried themselves in Gracia's skin, and Gracia screamed. Maes couldn't move.
Snap.
Gracia was on fire. Then, she wasn't Gracia anymore.
Snap.
A person with long, pointed locks of hair and violet eyes cried out before him, fresh flames cascading over their flesh.
Snap, snap, snap.
Maes could feel the heatwaves as explosions burst out of the person's chest, the person who screamed, and screamed, and screamed, but did not die.
A low voice rumbled like thunder through the night air.
"Stay… snap… away… snap… from my… snap… friend."
Again and again, new flames consumed the person, glowing orange, white, blue. Hughes was mesmerized by the flashes of scalding color spreading across the person-who-was-Gracia-but-wasn't-Gracia-anymore. Screaming, crying, howling…
From the corner of his eye, Hughes saw a figure emerge from the shadows. His dark eyes burned with fury. Black hair flew wildly in the heat. White gloves flashed, shining warmly as they reflected the firelight.
"Roy?" Maes breathed.
Roy Mustang continued relentlessly, both gloved hands involved in creating the onslaught of blasts which ripped through the person-who-was-not-Gracia's body. No mercy showed on his face as the person cried in pain, cried in anger, cried in despair. And then…
The person fell. Something rolled out of their mouth; something small and green, with bulging eyes. The body burned, and the small, green creature tried to crawl away-
Roy crushed the creature under his boot as he made his way towards the phone booth.
"Maes! Maes, are you all right?"
Maes gazed blankly at his friend, not quite comprehending the turn of events. Roy's brow furrowed in concern.
"Maes, you've lost blood… Come on, let's get you out of this phone booth; there's not enough oxygen here."
Maes didn't struggle as Roy placed the Lieutenant Colonel's good arm over his shoulder and guided him out of the booth, towards the trees at the edge of the pathway. He walked numbly, stumbling over the grass as they passed under the trees' shadows. Suddenly, Hughes felt a wave of lightheadedness hit him. His legs began to give out, and were it not for Roy's support, he would have collapsed right there. Roy guided him quickly to a tree and helped him to sit with his back against the trunk.
Maes groaned. "Roy… My shoulder…"
Roy was already observing the wound, peeling a glove off one hand to gently brush over the affected area. "This blood is mostly dry. You're not bleeding outwardly anymore, but we should get you checked out for internal damage."
"Roy, I need to tell you," Hughes rasped between heavy breaths, "I tried to call you, to tell you, but…" Maes squinted, confused. "Roy, why are you here? I thought you were at Eastern Command?"
Roy offered a small smile. "When you called two days ago, you mentioned that something seemed off at central. Something about the way you spoke… It left me with a very bad feeling in my gut. I decided to take some time off so that I could visit central and do a bit of investigating myself. I just arrived this evening; I stopped at Central Command first to see if I could catch you there… And then I met the receptionist you scared on your way out. She was worried and watched which way you left the building. She pointed me in the right direction."
Maes gave a humorless chuckle. "I should make sure she gets a promotion. Probably saved my life."
Roy frowned, turning back to look at the smoldering patch of sidewalk next to the phone booth. "Maes, that person… That thing… Is that what you were trying to call me about? What was it?"
Maes shook his head. "I don't know what it was, but I don't think it was human… It kept changing… It looked like Second Lieutenant Ross at first; then it looked like… like…" Despite his friend's warm hand on his shoulder, Maes felt a chill race across his skin. "Gracia… Oh, Gracia…"
"Maes, it wasn't Gracia," Roy said firmly. "Gracie is fine; she's probably waiting with Elicia for you to get home for dinner. That thing…" Roy paused, thinking. "If I had to guess, I'd say that thing's true appearance was the last one it changed into before it died. It appeared human, but at its core, it wasn't human at all. They're not supposed to exist… But this thing sounds like an attempt at an artificially created human – a homunculus."
Maes nodded, trying to shake the image of Gracia-but-not-Gracia's cruel smile out of his head. "A homunculus it is, then. Roy, I need to tell you what I figured out tonight – the Ishvalan war, the uprisings, they're all being orchestrated by someone, for something, but I don't know who or why. I'll explain everything, but first could you help me get my family to someplace safe? There are others out there who are in league with that thing; one of them did this to my shoulder. They'll send someone else to try to kill me, and I need to make sure that Gracia and Elysia are safe-"
"Don't worry, Maes," Roy soothed. "I can get you and your family to a safe place. I've had plans in place for a while, in case the Amestrian government was as corrupt as I suspected and I needed to get somebody out."
Maes sighed with relief. "Geez, Roy, and to think I'm supposed to have your back… Seems like you're the one whose got my back right now."
Roy laughed as he helped Hughes to his feet. "Of course I've got your back. You're my best friend, Hughes. And friends don't let friends get killed by homunculi."