After a couple of months of not posting anything, I've jumped across fandoms into Fullmetal Alchemist! Though this doesn't mean that I won't go back to my corner in Transformers - I'm actually working on an idea for that at the moment, so interested parties stay tuned!
I apologise if I've got any details wrong, I'm only up to episode 37 (The Flame Alchemist, The Bachelor Lieutenant & The Mystery of Warehouse 13) of the 2003 anime, but absolutely love the set up of Mustang's little crew. That episode was my inspiration.
I'm intending for this to be a multi-chapter fic, as I want to see what my writing stamina's like, but don't know how long it will eventually end up.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, only the name of the gang leader, because, what is fanfiction if you can't make up random antagonists that create mega-whumpage for all of your favourite characters? XD
Lined up in a row, hands shackled behind their backs (Roy gloveless with fingers bound together to prevent him from making a transmutation circle), and guns being waved about, Team Mustang knew that they were in trouble. Having now discarded the fake military uniforms, their captors were pacing about, edgy, yet excited that their plan had worked.
The leader, Siyan, paced back and forth in front of them, flick knife twirling in time to the padding of his feet across the floor, occasionally reaching to brush the trigger of his gun, as if making to grab it. Grey eyes, sharp, cold, calculating; well-versed in this type of criminality scanned each face, each body's posture, searching rigorously for a chink in their collective armour, the tiniest fracture in their stony-faced façade which he could exploit to bring them all crashing down as he so desired.
Frustratingly though, they were as smooth and cool as glass; glass tough enough that you could continually pound on, but never scratch the surface. They weren't even reacting as he paced past them – staring ahead, looking at nothing, stance rigid. Siyan scowled: no group of people were this well-trained, this flawless. Everybody had a weakness, and it was his job to find it and work at it until he uncovered whatever information he'd been paid to unearth.
Surging forward aggressively, he fist enclosed around Mustang's jacket, lifting him slightly, surprised when no reaction flitted across the other prisoners' faces. 'Is this all of your team? Or is there anyone else that I should be informed about? The consequences won't be pretty if you lie,' he warned in a menacing whisper. Disinterested eyes rolled forwards, the captive's face portraying boredom; a blank canvas.
'Not that I can think of,' came the drawled response. 'And we're already at your mercy, like you so eloquently pointed out earlier, so I'm not going to be overly-affected by the prospect of any consequences. You can't capture us again, and you're certainly not stirring any fear in our hearts either.' His tone twisted into amused sarcasm at the end.
'Really? Good thing I enjoy a challenge then. It'd be no fun if there wasn't an opportunity for play.' With that, he released Roy, moved past Falman and Breda and settled on Hawkeye. 'Do you think our lady friend here would like to play with me?'
His previously detached demeanour became lecherous in an instant – one hand grasping her chin, tugging it upwards, the other trailing down her lower back. Behind him, his cronies jeered, eager for a show.
Siyan knew that threatening a woman often did wonders to loosen the lips of men. And if her purity was their weakness, then what kind of a businessman would he be if he didn't exploit it?
Pulling her body close to his, feeling the warmth emanating from her, he shuddered into her whilst casting sideways glances at her companions. Usually by this point they'd be wide-eyed, pleading desperately, the woman sobbing and writhing in his grasp as he made a show of what was to come.
These men however weren't even looking at him, seemingly not caring about his actions. Riza herself was tense, but not struggling. Experimentally he let his hands roam across her chest, her stomach, watching for a reaction that never came.
Giving up the fruitless endeavour, he resumed his pacing. What kind of a team wasn't bothered by him approaching their woman in such a manner? Hawkeye didn't even look shaken. Putting on a show was only worth it if the audience was attentive.
From their awkward positions on the floor, Team Mustang observed Siyan getting more puzzled with their lack of response, inwardly amused. Falman's blank canvas technique seemed to be working perfectly – they'd given their captors nothing to threaten them with. Some of the other gang members were starting to fidget now, becoming agitated by the absence of any action. They still needed to figure out an escape plan though, for the stalemate would only last so long before something snapped.
The Flame Alchemist's thoughts were in turmoil. What did these men want? Without that piece of key knowledge, he had no other choice but to sit back in case he accidentally made their situation worse. What was obvious though, was that their leader was prodding for an opening, a little detail to use against them.
Roy was unbearably thankful at that moment for Fullmetal and his brother being out searching for the philosopher's stone. If the two kids were here, he'd no doubt that the men would have already found out whatever information they were probing for. He could imagine Edward, choleric temper and naivety and two automail limbs that were very painful when removed or attached being the perfect target.
And so, in this battle of wills, both the captors and the captives remained, silent, the only movement Siyan's relentless pacing across the office floor.
Sitting between Havoc and Breda, Riza felt anger burning through her veins. That bastard would pay for what he tried to insinuate, even if it was to push the team's limits. She didn't let it show, knowing that the five of them were capable of keeping their mask of indifference in place as long as it was necessary.
Suddenly the door handle to the office turned, slowly, gently, its quietness only audibly because of the absolute silence.
Instantly alert, Siyan and most of his men faced the door, weapons poised, while a few held guns to Team Mustang, indicating that they'd shoot if one of them attempted to warn off the newcomer.
'Hello Sirs, I've got the books and case files you requested,' Sergeant Fuery's voice drifted out from behind a stack of tomes so tall that he couldn't see over the top. He was humming softly to himself, oblivious to the both the tension in the room and its occupants as he turned to close the door, back facing away from the scene.
Collectively, the prisoners' eyes widened in fear and surprise.
Stunned for a second, Siyan swiftly recovered his senses; this was the moment he'd been impatiently waiting for.
Forget about a chink in the armour, a fracture in the flawless façade.
They'd just handed him the key to their knowledge.
The thick glass barrier they exuded was now thinner than an eggshell, shattering into a million glittering shards as he charged, ramming the shorter man violently against the hard wood door, books spilling to the floor with a clatter before Fuery could even process what has happening.
Poor Fuery, walking into it there at the end! But how did Team Mustang get captured, I hear you ask?
Well, it will be in the next chapter; at least, some of it will. I'm planning on having little flashbacks leading up to the start of chapter 1 incorporated into the overall story. Apologies if I dropped you into the deep end with this plot-wise.
Hopefully the next update will be soon - my muse is going strong for this!
As usual, I love any feedback, and simply wish for my fanfiction to be up to scratch.
TheInkEngraver
