A/N :- New FMA story. Geez I need to get another character to write about... It's another Envy-centric story.
0o0o0
Title:- Doppelganger
Summery: -It was one thing to steal their form. It was another to steal their essence.
Disclaimer: - No rights to this and all FMA characters belong to me
0o0o0
She pulled on the black pair of dress trousers draped on the chair, smiling at how loosely it hung around her legs. It was Michael's favourite pants. They just barely covered his groin, yet were enough to accentuate the firm, flat stomach, that she so admired. It was not defined, but toned enough to be handsome. As she raked a brisk hand through his thick black hair, a cold smile pulled at her lips. It was this that gave away an otherwise perfect disguise. Not that it mattered. The Private Michael Shultz had just fucked his mutt of a girlfriend, that half-blood Ishballan, Trudy Goetz. And now he was going across the city in the middle of the night, into the Ishballan refugee camp, where her father and stepsiblings resided. Michael, after all, could be trusted. And that was important for what was planned for the night. Still grinning, she pulled on a military standard sweater, kissed his sleeping figure passionately on the mouth before assuming his form. The transition was easily completed. Small, full breasts retreated, shoulders broadened, arms and legs grew in length and muscle tone, filling out and tightening within the sweater and pants. He passed his hands along his newly flattened stomach. He could see why Trudy so enjoyed this figure of Michael's. But she'll never have this kind of intimacy or enjoyment with her boyfriend's body as this one would. Envy enjoyed that about people. They were so individual, with their own identity. That was something that no other person could truly have, yet Envy could have it so easily.
Envy snickered with glee. It was one thing to steal their form. It was another to steal their essence. And Envy did, after observing them idly, as they paraded their figures and their clothes, their mannerisms, their habits, their speech, their very being, as though it were for sale. The homunculus would steal from them, bit by bit, everything that made them the individuals that they were proud to be, the very identity that they held so close to their little human hearts. It was a habit acquired after shooting that kid to start the Ishballan war. But then, it had been an order. Now it had become an addiction. Envy embodied the very person that you trusted, to kill you. Simply because it was fun. It dulled the boredom, and caused chaos in an otherwise stable world.
The Doppelganger pulled on the tan trench coat, and boots by the door, before blowing a kiss to his original, lying comatose on the bed.
He walked along the deserted streets, mind absorbed by the task at hand. It would be easy enough. No guns. They would cause more trouble than necessary. For this to work, the task was to be carried out quietly, swiftly. A hungry tongue passed along smirking lips and jade-green eyes sparkled as a plan unravelled.
The clopping of booted feet echoed as a figure ran past. Maes Hughes paid little attention to what was around him, as he rushed passed, muttering something about a phone. Michael gave a half salute as he stepped back to avoid being trampled in the Lt. Colonel's wake. Change of plans, Envy thought with a slight tilt of the head before ducking into an alleyway. Once more for that night, Envy stole another identity, this time for business rather than pleasure.