With every age in the world, there is a sequence of events, or an "epoch", that brings about that age.
They came in the night.
Though he was never one to keep a gun under his pillow, Roy did sleep with his ignition gloves less than a foot away from his face on the night stand - not that he was paranoid or anything. So long as they were where he could always see them and were in arms reach, then he found he slept a little easier at night. Despite this extra safety, he was a very light sleeper. At least, he was on the nights when he didn't drink himself to bed. On those nights, he slept like a dead person, not even dreaming. Those kinds of nights were, unfortunately, growing more frequent over the past couple of months. But luckily, tonight had not been one of those nights.
The Colonel was awake before he snapped his eyes open. Taking a quick, deep breath to jump start his senses, Roy laid absolutely still. The darkness stifled the world inside and outside with a thickness like a blanket. No stars or moonlight could be seen outside his small window. For a few moments, the only things he heard were his own heartbeat and a high pitched whine in his ears from the blood rushing though his veins. All seemed quiet, but Roy wouldn't have woken up unless something was amiss.
He hadn't been asleep for very long in the first place, though. Roy had gone to bed at around two in the morning, having come back from a rather grueling day at work that had him staying late at the office again. Actually, it wasn't so much a grueling day as it was the past few weeks that had been very trying. Lots of paperwork, lots of meetings, and not enough time in the day did not make a good combination. He had stayed late at the office trying to catch up almost every night the past week. This particular evening had Roy so tired that he didn't have the energy to go to the kitchen of his small rent house and pour himself a drink.
Tonight, when the stacks of paper seemed to be getting lighter, Hawkeye had even suggested that he take the day off tomorrow if he did manage to get all his work done. He had smiled at her and joked about how he might just request the next week or two off if this workload kept up much longer. She had scowled at that, not keen of the idea of her and the team having to deal with the Colonel's paperwork all by themselves. Roy laughed at that and sent her home, a part of him dreading the long night of work ahead of him. But it really wasn't that bad. Roy had had a lot worse workloads and schedules in the past, and he still managed to eat lunch everyday. It just seemed like his mind and body were not up to the task this time.
Unlike right now, when his body was tense and his mind was racing to form a plan of action. Seeing as the sun wasn't rising yet, Roy gauged the time to be between three and five o'clock - and by the slight creaking and cracking that his house was giving, there was definitely somebody creeping around inside. Roy knew that if it was Havoc, Hughes, Hawkeye, or anybody else who knew him, then they would just barge into his room and wake him up for whatever they needed, and it very well would have been a goddamn emergency at this hour. But nobody came into his room in a mad rush to tell him that the world was ending, leading Roy to the conclusion that these were people who should not have been here.
Roy had snatched his gloves and thrown himself out of bed within a second, hardly making a sound. Before he had dropped himself into bed so gracelessly, he had managed to wriggle himself out of his military jacket, shirt, and boots. Shirtless and barefoot, Roy whisked silently out of his room. The cool March night air pricked his skin and raised goosebumps, making him alert and vigilant. Pulling his gloves on as he quietly made his way out of his bedroom and down the narrow hallway, Roy kept his back to the wall and walked on the balls of his feet like a cat, swiftly but soundlessly padding his way through the house. This wasn't the first time Roy had ever had to deal with trespassers. Once, a teenager had managed to burgle his way into Roy's home, and had eaten all of Roy's food and drank his way through half of Roy's liquor cabinet when the Colonel caught him. But that was a stupid kid trying to impress his friends on a dare, and the lad had immediately surrendered to Roy when he knew the jig was up. The poor boy was extremely drunk, and had thrown up all over the rug. That was a very awkward phone call to make.
But this was different, Roy realized as he crept up to the entry way to his living room.
He could hear the intruder, or intruders by the sound of more than one foot fall, clanking around in his small living room, which was illuminated by the streetlight on the corner outside shining through the window. Reaching the end of the hallway, Roy glanced around the corner to see that there were in fact only two people, all dressed in black and their faces hidden within the shadows of their hoods. They were opening the drawers and doors of Roy's cabinets and closets, sifting through the contents.
Burglars, huh? Roy couldn't help but smirk at that. He was a man of very few prized possessions. There was absolutely no silver, gold, glass, or crystal within his narrow rent house. Truth be told, he barely owned little more than the over stuffed couch in the living room and the booze under the cabinet in the kitchen. Roy doubted they were here for the couch… and if they got anywhere near his Scotch, they were going down.
Roy stepped out from the hallway and raised his hand, fingers poised to snap. Though he couldn't see any guns or gun holsters on the robbers, that didn't mean that they weren't concealed in some way. He could attack first and ask questions later - this was his home after all, he had a right to defend himself - but Roy was still feeling a little stressed, and maybe these lowlifes were the granting the perfect opportunity for him to relieve that.
"Turn around slowly if you want to keep your skin." Roy said in a low voice.
The trespassers jerked at his words, and he saw one of them reached around their back for the waistband of their pants. A sharp snap rang through the air and a hair-thin line of inferno zoomed across the room. The person's fingers and hand were soon blistered and red, an acrid smell of burnt meet tinging the room. But there was only surface damage, and other than the hefty scar that would be left behind when the wound healed, they were going to be fine. Roy made sure of that. The burglar cried out in pain and grasped their hand to their chest. Their accomplice, slightly taller than the one that got burned, cried out a name and put their hands on the other's back and arm.
"I'll say it again; turn around slowly, put your hands in the air."
The thieves slowly turned toward him, lifting their hands into the air. The smaller one kept their burned hand to their chest. They dipped their chins, hiding their faces within the shadows of their hoods where the light cast from the streetlight outside couldn't reveal them. Even so, Roy could still feel their glares on him. The taller one was definitely a man, muscular by Armstrong's standards. The other was probably a man as well, since he was missing the definitive traits of a woman. Around the edges of the burned glove on his hand, Roy could see dark skin, though not dark enough to be Ishvalan. That was relieving for Roy. He didn't think he had it in him harm another of their people.
"I don't know what you were expecting to find, but you guys sure picked the wrong house." Roy frowned dejectedly at the two other men. "So I guess the question now is what should I do with you?"
"Colonel Roy Mustang," the muscular one hissed. His voice was deep ad rumbling like a rock slide, but carried a tone of sub-par intelligence or perhaps inebriation. But that wasn't what made Roy narrow his eyes in suspicion.
"You knew whose house you were breaking into and you still did it anyway?" Roy growled. "You guys have nerve, I'll give you that. Bet you didn't find anything, did you?"
The thieves scoffed at him, and Roy imagined that if he could see their faces that they would be sneering at him.
"On the contrary, Colonel," the man with the burned hand spoke, his voice tight with pain. The fingers of his burned hand spasmed. "We found exactly what we were looking for."
Roy cocked an eyebrow, a sudden spike from his soldier's intuition telling him that something was very wrong. "Oh? And what is that?"
The man with the burned hand tilted his head up ever so slightly so the light could reflect across his eyes, illuminating them into deadly silver. Pale and ghostly, the alchemist in Roy couldn't help but compare them to the corrosive chemical, mercury.
"You."
In a split second, Roy went from suspicious to confused, then to startled as he felt the presence of two other men behind him. Before he could react, one of them slashed down at him with a short knife. A streak of pain blazened itself across the knuckles of Roy's hand, his sliced glove beginning to slide off of his fingers. Swinging his other hand up with the full intent to send the thieves - and his walls, if need be - up in flame, Roy jerked as his hand was caught in the grip of the muscular thief he had turned his back on. the speed the man possessed was astonishing, given his size. He held Roy's fist in his large hand, squeezing tightly and hindering Roy's finger movements. The other thieves that had come up behind him quickly advanced, both of them brandishing knives.
Growling loudly, Roy clenched his free hand into a fist and lurched out. His punch landed solidly on the jaw of the thief that had cut his glove, making them stumble back. Using the momentum of the recoil in his arm, Roy lashed out with his bare foot and caught the other in the stomach with his heel. The trespasser doubled over, heaving in pain. Before he could over come his surprise, Roy rounded on the muscular thief, fist raised and falling like a sledgehammer. His useless glove fluttered around his wrist as the punch landed squarely on the man's nose. But other than staggering back slightly and groaning, the man's grip refused to loosen and he quickly shook himself out of the shock.
Mustang barely had time to react before the man jammed his fist deep into his gut, hitting so hard that the blow traveled under his ribs and knocked the breath from Roy's lungs. Stunned by the hit, Roy lost stability in his joints. He would have fallen to the floor, but the thief kept him aloft by the death grip he seemed to have on Roy's hand. Struggling to breath, Roy was helpless to do anything as the three thieves converged on him, procuring ropes and shackles and a ratty tweed bag that Roy just knew was going to act as a hood. The fourth thief with the burned hand hung back, watching the others lower Mustang to the floor and hastily tie his weakly struggling hands and feet together. The largest thief snatched Roy's remaining glove off of his hand before the Colonel could stop him. Despair was starting to set in, panic overcoming him.
Slowly, the thief with the burned hand and silver eyes approached Mustang. Something shiny glinted in his unmarred hand - a syringe filled with a viscous liquid. Gasping around the tightness in his chest, Roy struggled harder, kicking his legs wildly and twisting his body in their grasps. The kidnappers threw their bodies over his, efficiently pinning him to the living room floor with their weight. Large, meaty hands pressed his shoulders into the wood, bruising him with the force. Roy looked up at his kidnapper, the pale hairs of a gray goatee framing his mouth catching the scarce light.
"Who are you guys?" Roy choked out. "What do you want?"
The hood slipped over Roy's head, casting him into darkness. The cloth smelled like sweat and fear, as if it had been used for this exact same purpose before. Roy resumed his struggle and started to thrash harder, but to no avail. The weight on his limbs was too much. Not for the first time, Roy wished that he had Armstrong's strength. A sharp pain just above his collarbone shocked him, causing him to stiffen as the needle plunged into his flesh. Within a few moments his body started to go numb. Strength drained from his limbs like water through a sieve. Roy's struggles faded away with his consciousness, his breathing became less and less labored. Just before Roy lost awareness, his kidnapper whispered into his ear;
"We are your Sentries. You have been chosen."
A/N: Hello! So this is my first Fullmetal Alchemist FanFiction! I just recently got back into my anime craze and found out that they had made Brotherhood(I had watched the first series a long time ago). Needless to say, I watched that whole series within a week. And yet, I find that I can't get enough of it now! Especially Roy Mustang, hot dang.
As always, read, review, and enjoy!