"Envy!" He felt the angry exclaimation surge out of his vocal cords, and he rounded about, taking off at top-speed toward the malicious Homunculus. He had his dismantled brother detained--a foot atop of the silver-hued chest.
"What's the matter, Edward? Want me to leave your little brother alone?" He asked, calmly watching with a violet-hued gaze as the alchemist sped toward him. He casually lifted the helmet of Alphonse's armor away, tossing it from hand to hand as though he were merely playing catch with it. Alphonse gave a weak protest, voice faint and quiet...the blood seal within him faded and slightly-chipped away: Envy's doing.
Out of the corner of his eye, Envy saw the crackle of blue transmutation energy. There was a flash of silver as alchemy was used to craft a blade from his prosthetic arm. Envy waited--heeding the footsteps pounding toward him...calculating just when the right time would be to do it. He waited...he listened...and he braced his feet against the ground.
Suddenly, there! There was his opening!
He gave a barking laugh, jerking the helmet upward quickly. And the laughter increased when he heard the squelching sound--felt the alchemist's body make contact with the helmet on the otherside. Brilliant red flickers were suddenly splattered all over the Homunculus's black attire...rolling downward and plummeting to the ground below.
A gasping, choking sound was emitted from the gaping Alchemist. He felt it in his chest--cold and sharp. So, so sharp...
The pulse in his ears was weakening right before him. It began pooling out of him...warm and thick. Blood. Blood was running down all around him. And the pain--lastly, the pain. It siezed his whole body, making his muscles lock. And he was suddenly so much more aware of the object submerged in his chest, clenched in the grasp of his tightened muscles. The pain intensified and made him toss his head back, crying out in agony.
And oddly enough, images began to come to his mind. Slowly, deliberately. Not prominent images...not ones of all the joyous times he spent with his brother...or the misery of that night of the failed ressurection of their mother. No, this memory seemed quite irrevelant. At first.
"Where's it at? Where's it at...? Jeez! Why can't Alphonse put things in their right places, when he's done with them...?" A younger version of him was sifting through the drawers in the kitchen. He rummaged through it purposefully--right up until he found what he was looking for. He grinned from ear-to-ear, plucking the scissors up out of the cabinet and slamming it shut. "Found them!" He called, most likely to his waiting brother.
He dashed across the kitchen, laughing as he went. "I can find anything!" He gloated, the pointed edges of the scissors glinting each time he swung his arm back through the run. It was at that moment that his mother had chose to come walking into the kitchen, curious about all the noise emmanating from the room. Her eyes widened when she spied her son racing across the tile...a pair of scissors in hand.
"Edward, sweetie. Please stop running, for a minute," His mother's voice was calm, not wanting to alarm the boy and cause him to fall. Edward glanced over his shoulder, pausing abruptly. He smiled at the sight of his mother and crossed back over to her, more slowly.
"Hi, Mom. I'm sorry. I know we're not supposed to run through the kitchen but--" He broke off as his mother merely shook her head, placing a weary hand on his shoulder with a sigh.
"That's not it, Edward, dear. You absolutely cannot run with scissors in your hand, okay?" She told him, eyes going to the the twin blades. Edward looked quizzical.
"How come?" He asked, the inevitable question for children his age to their parents.
"If you happen to fall while running with those, you could seriously hurt yourself. You remember the flu shot you got at the doctors'?" She asked. Her son nodded, wincing at the memory. He hated shots. "Well...if you fell on them, it would be a lot like one of those. But worse," She said, sounding very serious. She looked a little taken aback at Edward's sudden alarm, and she gave a small, reassuring laugh. "Don't worry. That won't ever happen to you--if you don't run with sharp objects. Okay?"
Edward smiled, nodding his head with brightened eyes. "Okay, Mom! I won't!" He almost broke into a run but managed to stop himself in time, instead taking very cautious, overexaggerated steps back to where his brother was. His mother gave a laugh at his antics, looking on proudly to her obedient child.
Edward's eyes snapped open. The memory had come and gone. He could now feel the object in his chest being twisted around, and once more, he screamed...feeling it being shoved in deeper and deeper. Fountains of blood sprang from his chest, and his knees buckled. Envy gave an amused laugh, glaring into the wide eyes of Edward's.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you, Edward? You're not supposed to run around sharp objects. Or did she die, before she could?" More cruel laughter came to Edward's ears, and he pulled his jaw back in a grimace. The quickened pulse in his ears was growing slower and slower. Darkness was beginning to seep in around his vision.
"...S-sorry...Mom..." Envy brought a knee into Edward's stomach, sliding him off roughly before he could finish his words. He watched as he plummeted to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. He lost interest when he realized he was no longer moving. Instead, he brought the helmet up toward his line of vision. A horn protruded from the center--glistening red with blood.
"Hmm. Apparently, she didn't," He remarked to Ed's unanswered question. With a final glance at the Fullmetal Alchemist, he tossed the helmet over his shoulder and sauntered off. His mission had been accomplished.
'You were right. It does hurt...so much more than shots. I'll never run with scissors, again. I'm so sorry, Mom...'