Venia's Story
Like any other Ishballan, I was born in the city of Ishballa. I lived with a large, but happy family. I had an older sister, Kendra. She was a very obidient person, and did whatever my parents said, like a soldier would for his general. And then I had two younger twin siblings. One a girl, Layna, and a boy, Xavior. The two got along perfectly. We had no life threatening worries. It was simple back then. I only wish it was still that way.
One day, a strange man came into our home without notice. He was wearing a large blue uniform, and a bloodthirtsty smile spread across his face. His name was Kimblee. I didn't figure that out until much later in my life. He simply walked across the room like he owned our home, and picked my little brother by his shirt collar and held him up. Xavior writhed and wailed for help, and Kimblee simply laughed at his cries. I told Kimblee to put my brother down and that he should leave. My parents heard the riot, and came down the stairs as quickly as they could. Kimblee glared at my parents with disgust. They told him the same thing I had: To put Xavior down and to leave our home. Kimblee simply snickered at the request and killed Xavior. He was the first to go. The first to die.
We all gasped at the horrible sight of my infant brother's blood spilling onto the clean floor. My father took out his blade and vowed revenge on Kimblee for what he had done. My mother was just as outraged as he, and found the only gun we owned. My mother wailed to Kendra to get me and Layne and to leave as fast as her legs would take her. My mother joined with my father to fight Kimblee, and Kendra used the spare moments to get Layne and I away from the house. We ran as fast as we could to put as much distance from us and the house as we could. We stopped a few blocks away, waiting for any sign that we could return safely. We got the opposite of what we had hoped for. A large plume of smoke rose into the sky after a large BOOM! And we knew something had gone horribly wrong.
We waited for hours on the street corner, waited until we knew Kimblee had left. We walked back to our home, trying to keep our hopes on the best, and then our worst fears were realized. Our home was a smoking pile of rubble and burning wood. The stench of smoke madde it hurt to breathe. We knew, without saying a word, that we now were on our own. Our parents were dead. Our home was destroyed, and everything we own with it. Kendra was the one to break the deafening silence, and said what we all knew: We had to leave, before that man could come back.
We left, scared and alone. We got out of the city before nightfall, and found a small rock ledge to sleep under. We were all cold and hungry as night approached. We had nothing to eat, and slept with empty bellies that night. Sadly, that is what killed Layne that night. She had been sick, and wouldn't eat. Whatever she ate, she brought back up. No one knew what was wrong with her, not even the best docters in Ishballa. In the morning, we tried to wake Layne, but she would not awaken. Kendra felt for a heartbeat, but found none. For a small while, we simply sat there in grieving silence. But, we had to move on, and did so.
We traveled acrosss the wasteland northwest for weeks, with nothing but our clothes, and even those started to wear off our backs. We barely made it, but one day, we finally arrived at East City. We found an alleyway tucked in between two run-down buildings, and Kendra told me to wait there. she said she was going to try and smuggle some food from a busy market. Even in the horrible situation we were in, she still smiled and slipped away to complete her little quest for food. I waited. And waited. And waited. I stayed there for days, and those days tuurned into a week. Kendra still hadn't come back. I had hoped for the best, and thought of the best case senario I could think of: Kendra found a nice home to stay in, and would come back soon with loads of food and a warm place to stay.
My hopes were in vain. Kendra never did return. After that week, I finally realized that she would never come back. The process of elimination has finally stopped at me. Now, I was the last of my family. It felt like I was the last of the Ishballans, the last of my people. With what happened in my home, I knew the rest of the city would follow eventually. I was three years old, and had lost my whole family in less than a few months. All I could do was sit in that alley, starving to death. I spent a few days like that, and I could only thing of when I was going to die. Would it be in ten seconds, ten minutes, ten hours, ten days, ten weeks, ten months, ten years, ten decades? I couldn't tell when I was going to shut my eyes and pass on.
One day, I saw a small group of dogs come by my alleyway. I didn't take much notice to it, until they came back later with food in their jaws. I went with my instincts, and started to follow the alleydogs. They didn't care much, as if they knew we all were outcasts just looking for a meal so we could live to see tommorow's dawn. They had become my new family, in a sense. I lived with them, slept with the pack. They took care of me. And I took care of them. I warned them of people coming, and we would flee, so as not to be caught like my sister had been before us. That life may not have been as good as living with my real family, but I was desperate to live, to survive. These dogs were the last hope I had. My life went on in that way of life for a year, and that was a good year, considering the situation I was in.
But, on one of my food hunts, an old, retired elementary teacher found me. She didn't care that I had a different skin color, she took me in. I want to stay with the dogs, I told her as a writhed in her arms. She chuckled as if I was telling a joke, and carried me to her small home. She fed me, gave me a much needed bath, and played a small wooden instrument until I slept. This was the most kindness I had seen in over a year, and it felt good. It felt so good. She taught me how to speak, read and write for two years. And she told me she loved me like her own child. I told her it back, for she was really the closest thing I had to a mother now. She was the sweetest old woman I had ever met. But, one morning, she did not come to wake me like she usually did. I got scared, and found her outside of my door, pale and stone cold. I knew what had happened within moments. She was dead, just like the rest of my family. I thanked her for loving me, and quickly left the house. I was on my own, once again. I didn't know where I would go then.
I had no choice, I had to move again. I was a parasite, moving from one host to another, only to watch them whither away before moving to my next, unknown destination. I snuck my way away from East City, almost being killed multiple times. By now, I was five years old. I had matured greatly over only a few years. My life had taken a turn for the worst, and I had to mucsle up and face it. So, far, I had lived without dieing. Somehow, I had survived. What did I have that the rest of my family didn't have? I still wonder about that as I tell you this story.
Over the next couple years, I slowly traveled to Central, the capitol of Amestris. I had become a rabbit, shy and ready to bolt at any sign of danger. I met many Amestrians along the way, many were not too pleased to see a living Ishballan. A few, though, told me on why Ishaballans were being killed and gave me news on what was happening. Ishballa had been burned to the ground, and now all Ishballans were refugees, just like I was were all running from the State Alchemists. I learned to distinguish them out in a crowd by their uniforms, and this became very useful in time. I could easily avoid the achemists and stay out of immediate danger.
When I did arive in Central, there were many of the blue-coated State Alchmists wandering in the streets. Living there was much harder, and avoiding a State Alchemist was almost impossible. My alley roaming days had been reborn. And this time, I wasn't alone. As I wandered through the filthy streets, I saw women with children as young as infants scowering for food and shelter. I felt no sympathy for them, no sorrow. I understood what I saw. By seven years of age, I knew the horrors of the world. Now, that I knew what horrible things the world was cappable of, how could I trust anyone? Trust. Freedom. Hope. Kindness. Love. What were these things to me? Worthless. The world wasn't perfect, and never will be. I had turned from a rabbit to a snake. Sly. Slips into the darkness. Venomous. Deadly. I trusted no one. There were rumors of Ishballans atually helping the blue-coated alchemists. Traitors, all of them. I would think to myself.
One full year passed. One year of hiding in the shadows in the with a burning hared to the alchemists. I remembers the face who had killed my family with perfect detail. Over the year that had slowly passed, I had seen him in the streets many times. I had to restrain myself from going out there with my knife and stabbing him. I wanted to feel the warm blood slither between my fingers. I wanted to hear his last breath. I had become a bloodthirtsty person, I wanted to see them all die. The limp bodies. The screams. I smiled at those thoughts. The hatred, I was told, was easily seen in my eyes. I was now eight years old, and I had matured beyond healthy reasoning.
While I was scrounging for food, like usual, I found I wasn't the only one who wanted to see the Alchemists dead. Most Ishaballans just sat there and did nothing about the problem. But, this man wanted, and could, do something about the Alchemists just picking the Ishballans off like insects. I had heard off him. They called this man Scar. From the rumors I had heard being passed from one to another on the streets, he had been killing the Alchemists, swearing his revenge on them. I was curious as whether to see if these rumors were true, as this was a person I would want to team up with to take on the Alchemists.
Fate seemed to approve of me one day, and the man, Scar, came into an alley I had claimed as my own. I demanded to know who he was and what his business was, pulling my knife out without second thought. It had become an instinct, to pull out the knife like a snake bears it's fangs. I couldn't see his face as the light from behind him darkened his face, and it gave him a sharp white outline. When he didn't respond, I let a growl out from deep in my throat. The man took a step closer, and I stood my ground, holding the knife, and he told me who he was. He said he was known as Scar. And he said he had heard of me. I was known as a Viper, for how I acted. Like a snake, quick to react and strike. I kept my stance, and complied to tell him that I knew of him also, and his pledge for revenge against the alchemists. He tossed something at me, and I caught it. It was a fresh, still warm loaf of bread. I blinked in suprise and looked at Scar. He said we could work together to stop the Alchemists. I told him of my rule to never trust a soul, and he agreed to it. He told me that we didn't have to trust each other, but simply work together to kill the State Alchemists. I thought about it for a moment, but agreed to the terms. I relaxed my blade and sheathed it. We sat and asked simple questions, keeping our answers short. Night came, and we slept.
The next days, and days to follow, we discussed how to take out Alchemists, what kinds of methods we could use. I learned about what Alchemy is, it's strengths and weak points. He learned some close combat moves from me. He often commented on how a little girl like me could make it in this brutal world. I made no reply, for I didn't even know how I had made it in this world. Maybe it had been many things. Maybe, just maybe, it was luck. Perhaps luck had simply kept my alive through an alchemist's attack, through five years of harsh living. Eventually I did reply to the comment with one simple sentance. Maybe it was luck. He simply gave a stern nod when I told him this. We planned out to kill a State Alchemist who was stationed in Central. He wasn't extremely well-known, so not many would know of his disappearance. He was known, though, for created a talking beast. A chimera, I heard they were named.
It was raining the day we had planned to kill the Alcehmist named Tucker. We easily got rid of two gaurds that were gaurding the mansion, leaving them to bleed to death in the cold rain. We knew we only had a matter of time before someone noticed the gaurds were down, so we had to do our job quickly and cleanly. Scar and I went in and eventually found them. What I saw actually gave me the shivers. Tucker had gone insane, and he was talking to a dog. And it seemed that it was talking back. But there was something abnormal about the dog. Scar told me this was what a chimera was, and I was sickened by it. Scar told me to kill the Alchemist, and he would kill the perverse creation of his. I nodded and did so. I made it a clean kill, stabbing him once. I finally got to hear an Alchemist's last shuddering breath. The warm, thick blood came between my fingers. I had gotten my silent satisfaction at last. I wanted to just laugh at the irony of it all. I heard the chimera whimper, and it's last shuddering breath shivered into the air as well. It's insides had been oblivorated by Scar and his strange ability. I looked at the body for a moment, of the man I had killed and the beast Scar had put to rest. It was strange, for I had felt no sympathy for either of the souls that had forever lost their physical lives. Scar told me we had to leave quickly, or the Alchemists would catch up and put us to death. I nodded and we left quickly, leaving no sign we were ever there.
We wandered the streets, until we came up to two men. They were sitting on a bench, sulking. One, a blond, went on about sorrow, and hoping the rain would simply wash it away. The other, in a suit, commented on how he could'nt even feel the rain. Scar asked is he was the Fullmetal Alcehmist. The blond looked up with dazed eyes and then the other called out to him, and he realized what was going on. Scar attacked, but the Alchemist made a wall to protect himself. Scar nodded at me, and we went into a chase. We raced across buildings, destorying parts of them in the process. Eventually we found ourselves in an alley. A dead end. The two alchemists tried to defend themselves, but Scar blew up the armoured brother. To my suprise, he was hollow! The blond yelled out his name, apparently the armored one's name was Al. The other attacked Scar, and Scar used his ability to blow up his arm. It was a mechanical arm, and the parts scattered themselves onto the ground. Scar prepared himself to kill the Fullmetal Alchemist, when the military came. They were led by a man knows as the Flame Alchemist. Scar launched himself at the man, saying it was his lucky day. We were going to kill three in one day. We definetly had a least a little luck on our side.
Before the attack, Scar had told me that I wasn't allowed to get into any fights with the State Alchemists if we were caught. I followed his orders, and stayed out of the way, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alleyway. The armored one, Al, whispered for me to come over. I ignored him. He whispered for me to come again. I continually ignored Al. He tried to grasp my attention one final time. I heavily sighed and looked at him from the corner of my eye. He asked me why I was working with a man like Scar. I narrowed my eyes, and gave no vocal answer. When he realized he couldn't pull that answer out of me, he interrogated me with simple questions. I replied to most of them. I told him my name, age, and the simplest of questions. Many of them I gave a lie for an answer. I asked no questions of him. I could care less about Al. Eventually, Scar came running toward me and gave me a signal. I followed him away from the scene without a word.
When we had found our alley again, I saw that Scar had been grazed by a bullet. I treated him wound silently. Now I had decided to ask questions. He asnwered them, and now I knew who all those men were, and what had happened. The blond was Edward Elric. Also the Fullmetal Alchemist. We small-talked for a few hours more, and eventually fell asleep in the cold rain. By morning, Scar's wound had started to heal up, and he told me we had to move. I stiffly nodded. I didn't ask why. I think I already knew what his reason was. If we didn't move, and soon, the Alchemists would catch us before too long. We silently left Central, and started our journey to East City. Along the way, I couldn't help but remember Al and him trying to communticate with me. I shoved the though away before the thought of trusting someone came to mind and comnsumed my thoughts. The day I trusted someone was the day I sealed my fate. I didn't even trust Scar still. No one was worth trusting in this cruel world. Not even someone with the same intention of making the State Alchemists pay for all the pain they had caused our race to have. Because, who knows, even Scar might turn against me someday. I was still, approriately named, the Viper.
For the next year, Scar and I continued our assults on the State Alchemists. Some of our attempts failed, and others were successful. I had turned nine now, and I had become an expert killer. I still loved the feeling of the blood between my fingers, and the sounds of an Alchemist's last stuttering breath. Scar was feeding this silent need until it became an obsession. By the time that year had ended, I was straining not to laugh with pure, insane joy as I watched the alchemists drop in front of us, limp as puppets. I cleverly hid this from Scar, and he never found out about my bloodlust. Over the year, I figured out a new way to lure the Alchemist's to their death. I would scream in an alleyway, like I was being hurt or mauled by a stange man. Police and, if we were lucky, Alchemists would come and see what was the matter. Usually, Scar would take over from that point and kill whoever had dared answer my screams. But, sometimes, if Scar was in a good mood, he would let me kill them. It was a treat to get to kill them myself, though Scar never knew it.
My second run-in with the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother was when I used this manuver. The military was so dumb. Little did they realize the pattern that always occured before one was found dead. It always started with a little girl screaming, wailing for help. I wailed, and they came running like dogs. Scar came down as soon as they had rounded the corner, and rained hell onto them. I reconized them, those two were the alchemists we had met a year earlier, I thought. Even after a year, Al reconized me. He called out my nickname, Viper, in total suprise. I just silently stared at him, not wanting to have to remember the slight conversation we had a year ago. Edward snapped at him, wanting to know what his brother was talking about. Al told him he knew me, and I glared. I was only waiting for Scar to let me pounce. To let me let my obsession take over. The blood, that final breath. I wanted those feelings to the point of insanity. Scar eventually let me attack, to let me come out of the shadows. Edward gasped as he saw how young I was. He told me his thoughts on my age, how I was too young to be a murderer. I growled from deep in my throat, and attacked.
Edward, I admit, was one of the harder to beat Alchemists I've faced. He was fast. Strong. But, I was faster. I had sharper witts and reflexes than him, And I eventually got a few blows on him. While he panted, I stayed strong, stood tall. I told him he was a fool, to underestimate me. My bloodlust was begging me to just slice him into pieces. I held it back until the right moment came, when he had no time to figure out what was about to happen unitl it was too late. He asked the same question Al had asked a year ago. Why was I helping Scar? Why was a young girl like me helping a murderer? I told him nothing. Should that answer have been obvious? I was helping him because I hate all of you. Your kind, the alchemists. You're killing off my race. To you, we're toothpicks. The Ishballans are just a box of toothpicks, each one is snapped. Soon, they will all be gone, snapped into two and splintered apart.
He asked again as we fought, and I realized he was going easy on me. He never dared use his alchemy against me. He wasn't even taking me seriously. I wanted to make him regret that choice. I launched myself toward him, and a made a large gash in his face. He didn't resist. He still underestimated me! Scar was fighting Al, and I was fighting Edward. The fight went on for awhile, but I finally got Edward onto the ground, knife on his throat. I got ready to slice his throat open, when Al told me in a almost childish wail to stop. I glared deeply at him, knife pressed to Edward's throat still. He was gasping, and I saw the fear in his amber eyes. I loved the sight of fear in someone's eyes, their last gasping breaths as they beg for mercy. But, Edward didn't beg for his life, he just was gasping from the blade at his throat, but spoke no words. I looked into those amber eyes, to capture any fear I could find in his gaze. I pressed the blade in until he bled. You will die today, Alchemist, I told him in a snake-hiss voice. He only asked me why again. Why was I killing off the Alchemists. This time, I did tell him. You're all murderers, all of you, I told him the same venomous tone. The air was tense with fear. Scar and Al were watching, I could feel their pirecing gazes as they waiting to see whether Edward would die today or not.
Edward's breaths were still short and stuttery, but slightly calmer. I shoved the blade more into his throat, and he gasped. I slowly sliced along his throat until I knew I had hit a vein. I got off once I knew I had hit a major artery. He was going to bleed to death, and I felt no sympathy for the Fullmetal Alchemist. Scar had made Al's body into scrap metal, and with quick gazes, we quickly came to the agreement that enough damage had been done. We quickly left the alleyway, and went to an abandoned building. Once we were there, Scar told me to go finnish the job. He said I should finnish those two alchemists off, before they have the chance to recover. My bloodlust and I definetly agreed without second thought. My bloodlust had grown, it had grown so much it became an instinct to kill. And I loved it. There was too much joy in seeing the life slip from someone. Silky souls unravel themsleves as breaths halt, heartbeats fade, bodies go limp. This time, I was not afraid to simply laugh at the total irony of my situation. I was a ten year old girl, and I was enjoying the thoughts of bringing death to others. I made my way over to the scene where I almost killed Edward and Al Elric.
Just to my luck, they were still there. Edward still bleeding, Al still in smithereens. I walked up into the alleyway, knife unsheathed. Edward saw me and just stared at me. Viper, Al mumbled softly, as if to beg not to do what I intended to do. I stared back at Edward with disgust. I thought Alchemists were stronger than this, I commented, you're all weak. You should have fought while you could! Now you're going to die defenceless, I told him. He just closed his eyes and told me to finnish it. I silently prepared to do so, but Al yet again interupted. I was about to loose every ounce of patience I had. What? I snapped at him. He told me not to kill him, he begged for it. You're cowardly begging won't work for me, I told him, and I lifted my blade to kill Edward. Edward murmered something. What was that? I hissed. He told me to make me promise not to kill his brother. Fine, I told him sternly, I won't kill your brother. He nodded, satisfied with his final request, and lay his head down, accpeting death. Now it just didn't feel right now, to kill him now. It was much more fun, and felt like it had more meaning, if they writhed and wailed for death not to come. Even my bloodlust seemed to disagree with this kill. I simply glared at him for a few moments with an unwavering gaze. He opened his eyes, expecting death.