Chapter 2
"Alert me as soon as you hear anything."
Hawkeye dropped the radio handset back down on the receiver and immediately drew her rifle up to eye level to peer into the scope aimed for the lifeless city.
More nothing.
Since she witnessed Edward walk across the dark plaza below her tower, no one had seen any sign of the colonel after he disappeared in order to follow.
While she couldn't hear, it was not hard to guess what the two alchemists were talking about before this occurred. Either Edward had grown impatient and ran off to find Scar himself, or they were arguing about something to the point of chasing him off. Whichever the case, she was neither pleased nor surprised about it. This was no time for either of them to be going off alone, especially when she couldn't keep an eye out for them.
Riza alerted the others to this new obstacle and told them to act accordingly over the radio. Even when their leader wandering off, every member of the team knew that he would want them to carry on with the plan until ordered otherwise, but she couldn't ignore the possibility that he was in trouble as well. As much as she wanted to leave her post and look for Roy, he was right when he said she would be more useful from above.
Perhaps if one of the foot soldiers ran into Alphonse, they could just wait for Ed to appear, hopefully followed by their uncontrollable colonel.
Several minutes after her last communication, she answered a call coming from Fuery at the other end, hoping for some good news.
The young soldier was anxious and nervous, struggling to form his sentences into something coherent. "I- I think you should come down and... and check this out for yourself," Fuery eventually managed to say, unknowingly setting a heavy weight of uncertainty in the pit of her stomach.
"I'm under orders to stay here," she reminded him, fighting to keep the concern from her tone.
"I- I know that, but... it's the colonel. They found him." The announcement should have been delivered in a more positive, assured tone. It should have been a good message that would have eased her anxiety. It did nothing of the sort, only managing to further tear at her walls, bringing her closer and closer to accepting the fear that was rising for the missing colonel.
"Speak clearly, Sergeant. What happened to him?"
"I don't know! I don't- they said that he's... he's... I- no, I- I don't know what to believe. I really think you should go check for yourself," the young man stuttered, sounding downright hysterical.
"... Alright. Just tell me where to go."
After being given a street address by the frantic soldier, Riza willed her trained hands to steady as she quickly dismantled her sniper rifle, returned every piece to the case in record time, and began trekking down the stairs of the tower, silently apologizing for abandoning her post. Roy's safety took top priority. If there was even a fraction of a chance that he was in trouble, Riza had to act on it.
As much as she loathed to admit it, wild theories and fears ran through her mind as she tore through the many flights. It was clear to see that something had gone awry, given Fuery's tone and insistence that she leave her position, but she assured herself that the colonel was okay.
No matter what happened, he had to be okay.
With the rifle case slung over her shoulder, Riza swiftly checked to ensure her trusty handgun was on her as she nearly kicked the back door to the building open and sprinted down the dark street, lit only by passing streetlamps.
He's okay, he's okay, he has to be okay.
As the lieutenant turned a corner several blocks away from the tower, her eyes fell on a small cluster of uniformed figures standing at the entrance of an alley. The hole in her gut formed by trepidation sunk into a greater chasm the moment Riza approached the soldiers and saw the despondent expressions on their faces.
She recognized every one of them from previous missions, but she did not know them well. They, however, knew her well enough to appear anxious at the sight of her. Many avoided eye contact while simultaneously stepping out of the way, granting her a clear path into the dark alleyway. She planned on demanding answers from one of them, but the words never came. Instead, she found herself following the path as her mind raced and heart beat rapidly.
Further down the way, Riza saw another small group of soldiers huddled in a semicircle alongside the back wall of a building. At some point during her walk towards them, she had stopped breathing.
Once she finally got within range to make out who was there within the shadows, a kneeling Lieutenant Havoc looked up at her.
It was the grim, subdued pain in his blue eyes that sent a panicked jolt through her chest, her heart painfully constricting with worry.
When she looked down at what he and the others were standing around, the world froze.
There on the cold stone ground, was Roy Mustang. Limbs sprawled out in unnatural angles, blood tainting almost every inch of his blue uniform, neck and head propped up against the wall, dark, empty eyes gazing out at nothing, unthinking, unfeeling- dead.
For a moment, her heart has stopped beating and the blood pulsing in her ears was replaced by a hollow silence.
This wasn't him; this wasn't Roy.
The man she knew by that name was charismatic and ambition, never slowing down as he always strived for more.
He wasn't this cold, lifeless thing that was slumped on the ground.
This wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Colonel Roy Mustang couldn't just die and in a lonely alley of all places.
He had people supporting him and things to do. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
"Riza." Havoc's voice broke through the fog that had invaded her mind, causing her eyes to snap up to his, unaware of the aghast expression that had taken over.
The other lieutenant looked just as winded as she felt, but the extra time he was given to think allowed him to at least reclaim his voice to some degree. The shock that was undoubtedly in place previously had been replaced by a deep sorrow and anguish that was held from broiling over only by shock.
He said nothing when he finally got her attention, though he desperately wanted to. He desired to say something that could miraculously ease the agony in both of their hearts, but no such things was possible, and they both knew it.
Seeing him in the same state as her made it all more real.
Roy Mustang had died when no one was looking.
As soon as she was struck with that reality, the strength in her legs abandoned her and the first lieutenant dropped to her knees, her wide eyes falling back on the body of her beloved superior officer, paying no mind to the gun case that clanked onto the ground behind her and echoed down the painfully quiet alley.
Riza had been disconnected from reality, simply floating in her own cold, motionless space as the world moved on. The many eyes on her vanished as she focused solely on the corpse before her, her body entirely numb.
Numb, yet in so much pain.
Every part of her being cried and shrieked, frozen by the mercilessly frigid wave that quickly spread through her limbs as if it had infected her bloodstream. It hurt so much. She was convinced for a moment that she too was just moments away from dying.
Or perhaps something inside of her had already passed away along with Roy.
Behind the battle between horrified acceptance and denial, one question stood out above them all in the back of their minds: how?
Roy Mustang was careful and precise. Yes, he was also a little too confident for his own good, but it was well-earned. He knew when a battle could not be won and how to get himself out of tight situations. There was no explanation as to how he could get caught so off-guard by Scar that he wouldn't even put up enough of a fight to alert any of the soldiers stationed nearby. Judging by the lack of scorch marks in their surroundings, he never use his alchemy either.
It didn't make sense.
And yet it stared right back at her with dull, lifeless eyes that would ingrain themselves into her memory for the rest of her life.
"Scar must've found him." Havoc whispered needlessly. His voice was hoarse and guttural as he kept his eyes down at the bloodied ground in front of him.
Images of the Ishvalan terrorist appeared in her mind at the mention of his name. The man who used alchemy to destroy a person's body just with touch; that explained the lack of visible wounds. Dark stains of red continued to spread through the fabric of Roy's uniform despite seeing no tears in the fabric whatsoever, torn apart from the inside. Even his face was clear of external injury, if one were to ignore the large trails of blood that had earlier escaped from his mouth, nose, and eyes, staining his skin in the most hauntingly macabre way.
It was gruesome and... terrifying. It was one thing to see the deadly effects of Scar's alchemy on nameless alchemists, many of which she and the colonel shed no tears over, but it was entirely different to see it happen to a loved one.
Riza looked away, overwhelmed by the inexplicable misery and confusion and depressed rage that stormed inside of her mind and body. She felt tears form in her eyes, but they refused to fall. She made no attempt to refrain them and was far too distraught and detracted to care if they slid down her cheek. Her body was paralyzed, as were the tears; almost as if the shocked state of denial she found herself in refused to believe that there was anything worth crying over- refused to believe that he was actually gone.
"What are you still doing here?" Havoc demanded, pained eyes darting up to the surrounding soldiers, who were undoubtedly the ones to find the body and bring him here. "Scar's still out there! We need to find this bastard!"
Only Riza was close and perceptive enough to see how his legs shook when he pulled himself to his feet, and only she knew him well enough to catch the subtle quiver of his voice. Unlike the spectators, she did not mistake his grieving sorrow for pure, motivated rage. Yes, he was furious, but the only thing keeping Havoc from crumbling and cursing the world was his desire to make the murderer pay.
As the others scattered off to follow the lieutenant's orders, Havoc remained and cast another glance at their downed commanding officer for a moment, fists curled tightly, teeth clenched together, eyes straining to see any signs of life all while knowing it was hopeless. He could only stand a second of it before forcing his attention back to Riza.
She knew he wouldn't urge her to leave Roy's side. Neither of them wanted him to be alone here- abandoned. But they both wanted to find the person who was guilty for this.
But the longer Riza remained there, solemnly by the colonel's side as she felt the pain in her chest build with every second, the idea of standing up grew to feel impossible.
Within the waves of sorrow, there was a burning desire for revenge- for justice. But with no target in front of her, only being able to see the victim- the sign of her failure- she couldn't bring herself to move. Not yet, anyway. And certainly not when doing so would include leaving him behind.
Somehow, Havoc got the message that she would remain there in a mournful vigil, and perhaps expected no less. He said something that might have been encouraging, had she heard it through the ringing in her ears, picked up his gun, and hesitantly left to track down Scar.
Managing to shake herself out of her trance to some degree, Riza held up her pistol to ensure that it was loaded simply out of habit, then slackened her shoulders as much as her military trained body would allow.
There was no accurate way to describe the torrent of emotions that spiraled endlessly as she knelt on the cold, stone ground, staring down at the body of her commanding officer- the amazing man who was supposed to accomplish so much; who was supposed to change their world for the better with his own hands.
It was her job to keep him safe and watch his back above all else.
One lapse of judgment and several minutes later, he was lying dead in an alley.
Even while she was in no condition to think clearly, part of her mind still had to wonder why this was allowed to happen.
She should have acted as soon as she saw the colonel running after Edward, but why did the young alchemist run off in the first place? Did he not realize how dangerous this area was?
Riza had no interest in blaming him for this, even as a small, shamefully cynical part of her wanted to. While it was easy to forget at times, there was no changing the fact that Ed was a kid who did not realize the possible consequences of his actions. Riza was not going to blame him for a burden that was entirely on her shoulders, and hers alone, simply because it would be convenient.
In fact, it suddenly occurred to her, he likely still did not know what had happened.
In a way, he was as guilty as Roy was, but both paled in comparison to how much Riza blamed herself. However, she doubted Edward would see it the same way.
But she chose not to think about who would be the unlucky one to break the news to Edward, Hughes, and the rest of the team, just as she chose not to think about what this meant for all of their futures. She saw the very same concern in Havoc's eyes before he left; that uncertainty that was bound to sprout, now that the one constant that held them all together had been killed.
He was their leader; the one that compiled a trustworthy team, the selected few, and planned to bring them all to the top along with him. He was the one with the plans and the will to act on them. The knowledge to know what to do, and how to do it. The one who they would all risk their lives for out of utmost certainty that he would succeed. If anyone could accomplish the insane goals that he aimed for, it was Roy. There was more to it than just that- more than anyone would ever understand.
All that mattered at that moment was that she would never see the assuring smirk or hear the confidence voice of her dear friend ever again. Without him and without the sense of purpose that he gave her, Riza wasn't sure how she could continue.
Many hours later, the halls of Central Command were mostly deserted as the gray morning light crept through the great corridor windows.
Two members of the military's forensics department wheeled a long cart into the base's morgue, stopping only once they had positioned it directly next to one of the three examination tables in the room. Both taking a side, the two lifted the heavy black body bag from the cart and onto the table in one experienced motion.
They then both exited the room with the cart, likely to return within minutes.
After only a few seconds after their departure, the large bag began to shift with movement from inside until a finger poked out from the top of the zipper, running down the side until the bag was halfway unzipped.
"Finally," came an impatient huff as he sat up on the table in the voice of Roy Mustang. While the man went to work on fully freeing himself from the bag, red sparks flashed across his body, allowing the many self-inflicted wounds to heal within seconds.
It was surprisingly strenuous to keep his regenerative abilities from activating for a prolonged amount of time, after he was already so used to doing it instantly. Playing dead required much more work that one would expect.
Oh well.
All was going according to plan so the effort was worth it, he supposed as he slid from the table and onto his feet. As he stiffly rolled his neck and shoulders, the body of Colonel Mustang sparked again and shifted into the form of one of the forensic officers who had originally stuffed him into the body bag.
Now all he had to do was find another body to 'preform' the autopsy on, continue using that Ishvalan as a convenient scapegoat, and bury all evidence with the upcoming funeral.
Humans were so easy to fool.
Chuckling and congratulating himself for a job well done, Envy strolled out of the morgue to choose the lucky human who would help him proceed to the next part of the plan.
It took several minutes after waking up for Roy to realize through his lack of coherence that he was awake at all. In fact, he didn't feel anything for quite some time. He simply existed without thought or feeling, drifting endlessly in a void within his own subconscious.
That empty state would have been much preferred to what he eventually woke to.
When Roy finally managed to convince himself into prying his eyes open, he was poorly prepared for the nausea that suddenly hit him as his vision spun and the lines blurred together before he could understand what he was looking at.
He shut his eyes again, deciding to focus on what he knew without having to see.
For starters, he was laying down on something hard, but warm. It was a thin, almost unnoticeable blanket or sheet that divided him from a solid, uncomfortable surface that was only warmer than the noticeably chilly room because of how long he had been laying on it.
Secondly, there was a single blindingly bright light overheard that burned through his eyelids and made him want to cover his face with his arm. However, he found himself unable to persuade any movement into his body. Any and all attempts to return some life to his limbs was repayed with a stubborn, weary refusal to cooperate.
Which brought him to his last point: He knew that the effects of whatever drug had been injected into him were still lingering in his system, but fading.
Oh yeah. I was attacked and drugged.
By Fullmetal.
Except... somehow, someway, it wasn't really him.
At least, that was what he told himself as he reflected on just how unnatural and- dare he say- inhuman the kid appeared to him last night.
Roy wasn't one to believe in literal ghosts or demons, but it was not a stretch to say that Edward looked possessed. It was him, but the look he saw in his unique golden eyes clashed disturbingly with the fiery little runt who he was arguing with only minutes before it happened.
Unless this was some buried part of the kid that he had never seen before.
…
No, that was stupid.
Roy dragged Edward up from his lowest point and gave him direction. They taunted each other on a daily basis and knew exactly which buttons to push, but no amount of banter could lead the blond to such drastic measures: to drug his boss and stick him here- wherever here was.
But there was no denying that Roy took it too far this time.
It was incredibly idiotic of him to bring the riots into it. He knew how touchy of a subject that would have been for the kid, but threw it right in his face anyway.
He was tired; stressed, maybe.
But he was never one for excuses. He was Roy Mustang, damn it! He didn't waste time covering up his mistakes. He'd much rather act to make them right.
Speaking of which...
Roy opened his eyes, glaring up at the light reluctantly until his vision adjusted. As soon as he was able, the colonel stiffly turned his head to the side, taking in the room he found himself in.
With cement walls on all sides, it was a small space, only slightly larger than a typical prison cell. It had a similar layout too with an old metal sink in the corner, as well as a another short wall, parallel with the perimeter, which he expected to be hiding a toilet or something like that. Though he couldn't see from where he was, Roy supposed it was too much to hope that hidden behind was an open exit instead.
There was only one visible door that he could see past his feet, which appeared to be made from an extremely sturdy metal, complete with a small, closed hatch at the bottom. The walls were completely blank and there was only a single vent in the ceiling that he had no hope in reaching, which was too small to fit through anyway.
And he was lying on the ground, he noticed afterwards with a small amount of surprise.
Even if the little hatch wasn't there to slid in food, Roy realized that he technically had everything he needed to stay alive. Whatever this was, something told him it wasn't meant to be temporary. Whoever had put him there expected him to stay awhile.
It just couldn't be Edward who set all of this up. Not only did it not make any sense, it wasn't his style. If Fullmetal was mad at someone, he would impulsively beat them to a pulp; not take the time to find an isolated cell and drag them there.
Mobility finally returned to Roy's body and allowed him to slowly pull himself to his feet, albeit unsteadily, which took several minutes to manage. With a few tentative steps while using the walls for balance, the colonel made his way over to the door and tested to see that it was, of course, firmly locked.
It only took him a few seconds to accept that the door was the only way out. Even the small hatch was locked from the outside.
Well, whoever put him here had a reason for keeping him alive when he could have easily been killed while unconscious. Wherever he was, he would have to wait to find out, and hopefully find an opening in the process.
Roy lost track of how much time had passed before he heard the faint sound of a distant door shutting from beyond the room, unable to accurately process the passing of time in that small, empty enclosure.
"Hey, you awake yet?" came a voice moments later through the metal door. The speaker had a rather annoying tone that somehow gave off the impression that it belonged to a lowlife.
"Who are you?!" Roy demanded as he glared at the door.
His question was met with a high pitched irritating fit of laughter, and then the speaker continued on as if he said nothing.
"So tell me, Mustang: how's it feel to be dead?" he asked in the same condescending, arrogant tone that Edward spoke to him with the night before.
In a few minutes, you'll be dead.
Roy couldn't respond for several seconds as his mouth suddenly became too dry to speak and his voice was lost in his throat.
"... What are you talking about?" he eventually asked, his tone distinctly lacking the brazen attitude he had just moments ago.
Another amused chuckle came from behind the door. "Didn't manage to piece it together yet? Well, I came all the way down here just to tell you that all of your friends think you're dead! As far as they're aware, you were pathetically killed by Scar and left in an alleyway to rot!"
Roy's ears rang with his obnoxious, erupted laughter as it echoed off the cement walls, bouncing back at him again and again with every intake of breath.
Dead...
They all thought he was dead... Roy had to repeat the information in his head multiple times for him to comprehend what he was hearing.
"That's... You're lying," he accused as his head began to throb. "They wouldn't be fooled so easily."
"But how could they not believe what was right in front of them? Your dear subordinates stumbled upon your bloodied, lifeless body alone in an alleyway with Scar supposedly on the loose. They were completely fooled. You should have seen the girl's face when she saw!" He paused, breaking into more uncontrolled laughter.
Roy stared holes into the wall, his heart aching at the thought of Hawkeye and the others thinking he was killed. He knew they would be devastated, as he would be if he stumbled over any of their corpses.
"Supposedly?" he chocked out after forcing the other thoughts from the front of his mind.
"Hmm?"
"You said Scar was supposedly on the loose. What did you mean by that?"
"Oh! That's the best part! I had you and your lackeys running in circles the entire time! Scar was never here; hell, he's probably not even in Central! But you humans are always so eager to believe spoon-fed lies if they seem convenient."
Without realizing, Roy drifted over to the wall, slumping his shoulder against it to keep himself upright as he felt the little energy that he had recovered drain from him again.
They thought he was dead.
Dead!
What would they do if they remained under that impression?
Hawkeye, Hughes, Havoc, Breda, Falman, Fuery, the Elric brothers, the people he called family...
He needed to contact them! He needed to get out of here and tell them that he's alive before... well, he couldn't begin to guess what they would do if this went on, but he didn't want to wait and find out.
"What's wrong, Mustang? Cat got your tongue?" the voice taunted sadistically. "Well, that's fine; I gotta prepare for your funeral anyway."
Funeral? Now there was a thought that Roy did not want to think about.
"I'll be sure to stop by again soon. Sleep tight," the captor sung just as the single light overhead died, encasing Roy in complete darkness.
"Wait!" he ordered just as he heard footsteps distancing through the door. He was given no answer and was left alone in an empty void, far less comfortable than the one he awoke from earlier. Not the slightest shred of light managed to escape through the door, leaving his eyes with absolutely nothing to adjust to. Roy felt the continued impulse to open his eyes in order to see, all while being well aware that they were as open as they were going to get.
And the silence- it was deafening.
The utter lack of sound somehow left a subtle ringing in his ears, accompanied by the suddenly louder pulsing of his own veins. He sighed loudly just so he could hear something besides this nothingness that now surrounded him.
He had the impression that he was very far underground.
With a resigned huff, Roy blindly maneuvered himself in the darkness with only his fleeting memories for help until he found the blanket that was pushed in the corner. Figuring that there was nothing to do but try to think of a way out until he fell asleep, Roy straightened out the blanket to the best of his ability and laid back down on the hard floor.
He would find a way out when the lights turned back on.
I know what you're thinking: "Akarri needs to stop being mean to Roy, and how could Envy pretend to be dead if they could just feel for a pulse?" Since death doesn't effect him the same way it does us, I like to think he can take playing dead to a new, more convenient level. :)
But anywho, thanks for the fantastic response to chapter 1, guys! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story, and thanks for reading!
