chapter one: Mutant market.
AN: This was inspired by an original I wrote, if I get a lot of reviews I am thinking of perhaps going on with my original, because at the moment I am not certain if its worth the effort.
If I don't get any reviews, then I won't post new chapters. It's as easy as that. Like it? REVIEW IT!!
Thanks, it means a lot that you're reading this.
Disclaimer; they own the neighborhood, I just rent the house –though the land lords must hate me cause I continuously screw with their characters and vandalize the town-
XX
Belledonner.
The sound of heavy footfalls echoed through the office long before the doors were flung open to emit the entourage. Though this was not a surprise; at least not to the flame alchemist.
"General Mustang?" a deep voice intoned as Fuhrer Bradley stepped forth from the group of armed soldiers that served as his entourage and loyal flowers that would only answer to him.
Without shifting his eyes from the Fuhrer's solitary orb, Roy automatically calculated the men behind their leader; their numbers, weapons, blind spots, weaknesses, rank, attentiveness. Reading his slim chances if open fire was called in the rare occurrence that someone had let his true loyalties slip in the wrong ear.
"Yes sir!" Roy said in a voice that allowed none of the emotions he felt through, all they would hear was a man devoted to his state and loyal to his king, even if this was not the case. To them he was the faithful lapdog he had made himself out to be.
"These are the direct orders for you and your subordinates." The towering man before him said, his voice just as void from unsightly emotion as Mustangs own. Bradley held out one tanned hand as his secretary stepped forward and placed a stack of folders in his palm.
Nothing good ever came of paper work. Mustang thought gloomily, knowing well enough what was in these particular documents and what the Fuhrer's next words would be, even as the tall man turned to face the rest of his office, where his subordinates were looking on with a mixture of emotions mingled with strong suspicion and undenied curiosity written in their eyes.
Riza, her rust colored eyes were full of wariness and respect deserving of the Fuhrer, never wavering. Across from her, Falman's gray, unflinchingly calm, if slightly harder than usual were trained with Riza's on the Fuhrer. Beside him, Havoc's light blue were nonchalant, and though careless though he may seem, the tight lines about his mouth and brow told otherwise, along with the way his eye's darted back and forth from Roy and Bradley. Slouched in the chair besides him, Breda's were darker with suspicion, furrowed under heavy red brows. Rigid straight across from him, Fury's blue gray gaze was brimming with panic and a bravery that most did not know he possessed, ever focused on the Fuhrer, a threat, in his eyes, to his General and hero.
But the molten gold glare that was directed not to the Fuhrer with the others, but to Roy himself, these were the only eyes Roy would let emotion his own show for, eyes that told of the fury that was sure to come if Roy was to blame for this stop in. But threw the glare Roy could see the worry that lingered and the way his fingertips brushed with anxiety against identical metal ones.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is with haste and great importance that I inform you all of your debriefing." Bradley began, his eye roaming over Mustang's subordinates with clear disdain. "Over the past several months we have noticed that there is a consistent disturbance in the Forbidden City. A market, much alike to the black market, except dealing exclusively in rare transmutation ingredients and live chimeras. This particular market as called by witnesses 'The Transmutation Market', though it is more commonly known as the 'Mutant Market.' We have reason to believe that this market is a threat to the military and the state, and so, this unit will be sent out with selected armed soldiers and alchemists to apprehend the ringmasters and close this Transmutation Market. Are we clear on this General?" the Fuhrer asked in even tones that suggested this was not a question at all, but an order. With a click of his heels the Fuhrer was turning once again to face the stoic mask the General held firmly in place.
Mustang's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, the only movement on his pale face as he watched the man before him, his 'king'. But Mustang knew better than to trust his lulling words, though his voice was deep and smooth of all traitorous emotions, as though the words he spilled were nothing but truths; that they were merely going on a simple mission; even if all present knew they were not. Bradley would not dare send trained state alchemists into a zone that was claimed a mere 'disturbance'.
"As crystal, sir." Roy said in strict tones, his posture as stiff as his words from where he stood in his position behind the large oak desk. "When are we to be posted, sir?"
"I expect you to be in formation by noon Monday, three days from now, this should give you ample time to prepare your stocks as you are not expected to leave the Forbidden City till the mission is successfully completed. Any more questions you may have, the answers will be found in your debriefing papers, if there are any still unanswered then you don't need to know such information." With those parting words the Fuhrer exited the crowded office, his entourage marching in ridged formation behind him.
The sharp staccato of boots hitting marble had long since faded into the distance before Roy let himself breathe, breaking the complete silence that had befallen those in his command.
Roy had once heard of this market, it was said that it was a fools hope to see its wears; that those who sampled its foods would fall addicted. That if you were to purchase an item, you would ever be in debt, as the cost was dearer than life itself. He had heard stories about the chimeras created there, about the new arrays made to do anything the imagination thought up in its wildest and darkest dreams. The miracles that came from its depths, along with the horror stories that so often accompanied them, he had merely passed these off as folklore. He had thought it myth, a legend told to children before they went to bed so they would only do well with their alchemy. He had thought it nothing but a dream place.
It was an alchemist's greatest dream. One told as the greatest nightmare.
"Madame?"
"Yes?"
"Mustang's unit have been called in, as promised. They are expected Monday at noon."
"Ah, very good. You may go tell the Creator to prepare. Dismissed. "
The young man darted off through one of the many dirt pact corridors leading from the dim room. A smile graced her pale face and the girl in her arms flinched back instinctively.
She tutted, moving to brush the stray hairs from light blue eyes, running a long nail across the pale cream flesh of her face. Blood blossomed along its trail, but the girl in her arms made no noise. It was one mistake in her creation that turned out to be of greater use.
The young girl felt no sensation, could not feel the bite of her nail as it bit through her flesh and wept a strange dark blood.
She would be the perfect body.
AN;if you like it and want to read more, three guesses what you might have to do?
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thanks a bundle!
xx
Belle