Hey there everyone, so here is chapter 6. Took some time, but I was very busy with school and all. Thankfully, generalgeneric really helped me by beta-reading it all, even if it was long and if there was work to be done. I want to thank everybody that reviewed, faved or put the story in his/her alert. It really encourage me into writing more. Here, Bradley will reflect some more but action is on the way. Have a nice time reading!
I chose you – Chapter 6
Bradley was trying to find a reason to keep Amelia with him for the rest of the day, until he suddenly saw her face twist with surprise and what he interpreted as fear - as if someone was sneaking up on him with a weapon, or even worse. He looked back to see a small object flying erratically toward his direction and instantly ducked the incoming projectile. As it passed over his head, the man saw that the object was only a harmless toy. Not that he would know what one was, for he never had toys of any sort. But since Bradley had been looking too high up, he didn't see the next thing run into his legs. Surprised at the impact, he looked down and saw a young human child; she had collapsed onto the ground from the collision.
"Oww, ow..." The small girl was wincing in pain while looking up at the intimidating man above her. "Oh, sorry mister! I was trying to catch up with my kite and I didn't watch carefully where I was running," she said with a trembling voice.
Bradley looked so stern and tall; she was afraid he was going to get angry at her.
"Poor little thing," Amelia whispered, walking up to the girl to help her up.
With quick motions, the woman brushed the dirt off from the child's small white dress and made sure she wasn't hurt. Bradley just stood back, not really used to see kids and a little shocked to see the girl easily snatching away his friend's attention from him.
The "poor little thing" had, along with the dress, a red wool overcoat with a matching red hat on her blond, curly hair. She looked so cute; it was hard to believe she was the daughter of the frazzled man who came running in their direction. He was a tall fellow with thick hair as blond as his moustache. A moustache that Bradley knew well enough - he was stunned to think the aforementioned man was a father.
The man came up to the group, frantically seizing the little girl's shoulders and inspecting her tattered state from head to toe. "Are you alright, Liz?" Liz meekly nodded in response.
He continued to look her over with a critical eye as he started apologizing to the other two adults. "I'm so sorry that my daughter ran into you, sir..." the man finally raised his head up and froze. He recognized the man his daughter had hit by accident!
Bradley was the first to talk, his voice hoarse from surprise and disbelief:
"Grumman?"
He had already recognized his former brother-in-arms, but he had to ask in order to make sure. This encounter was just too unexpected.
"Oh good lord, I wasn't expecting to meet you here Bradley..." Grumman sighed, looking rather annoyed.
"Daddy, my kite is stuck in the tree! And I torn my skirt when I fell, mommy is going to get mad at me for it! Daddy? Daddy!" the small girl snivelled, pouting and grabbing on her father's pants leg to draw his attention back to her.
Amelia stood back, understanding the two men were fellow soldiers. It was easy to read it in Grumman's stature.
"I'm sorry darling, I'll get you a new dress and your mom won't see a difference and..."
As the father-daughter pair was discussing the state of the child's clothing, one could easily see the resemblance between the two. Grumman's daughter had to have been around seven or eight years old. But since he had been fighting alongside the man for ages (or at least that's how long it felt like) and believed they were both around the same age, King was still under shock.
"Wait a minute!" Bradley interrupted him, ignoring the small girl. "You're a father? Just how old are you?"
"Don't go telling the others I'm an old geezer or something! I'm still young," the blond man protested.
"Daddy, I want my kite!"
The poor girl had tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, her voice also wavering. Bradley felt some sympathy for her, despite the fact that her pitchy voice annoyed him. From his own experience, he didn't know what it was like to have a father; however, since her dad was a soldier, she most likely didn't have much time to spend with him. And in the short moments she shared with her parent, he ended up ignoring her...
Amelia looked ready to say something harsh about them offending a lady's heart – or at least he was willing to bet she would say something like that. In the end, he decided to save the questions for later.
"Alright, young lady." Bradley sighed, directing his gaze at the small girl for the first time since Grumman had showed up in the picture. "Stop having a tantrum and start acting as a proper soldier. State your rank and make your order!"
"Rank?" She looked up at her dad, who simply smiled at the joke. This seemed to give her an idea because she looked back at Bradley with a mischievous grin. "I'm top general, Anna-Elizabeth Isabelle Grumman, and I order you, mister eye patch, to retrieve my kite from this tree!" she ordered, pointing at the tree behind him.
Bradley raised an eyebrow at the "mister eye patch" - that didn't sound as dignified as it should have been, but he guessed that Grumman hadn't had the occasion to raise his daughter properly due to his soldierly duties. The man performed a crisp salute toward the child, pretending to go along with her game. The growing smile on Amelia's face was enough a reward for losing a little dignity. Within a few moments of climbing, Bradley had clambered down the tree with the toy in hand. Soon after that, Anna-Elizabeth was merrily running around the park, her kite trailing behind her in the air.
The three adults had stood back, Grumman eying Bradley with a new sense of respect. The stern man had been able to bring back a smile on his daughter's face; something that he wasn't able to do. Amelia wasn't sure if she had a right to say something, since Bradley hadn't introduced her properly to his fellow soldier. She cleared her throat as politely as possible, and both man stopped observing the frolicking girl in order to turn their attention back to the young woman standing between them.
"Oh my...!" Grumman twisted his hands with pretended shame. "Where are my manners? I'm Second Lieutenant Eli Grumman, my fair miss. Your beauty is so pleasant that it just startled me right back into silence, you see?"
Amelia wasn't sure how to react to the compliment, humming a bit in response to the man's statement. Bradley glared at his so-called "friend"; he hoped Grumman would understand to keep his wandering eyes and hands to himself around the young woman.
"This is Amelia," Bradley whispered, forcing himself to restrain the amount of irritation in his voice - only because Amelia didn't warrant the need to be described with such a harsh tone. He went on, directing an apologetic look towards the young woman. "And I'm sorry to say this moron is one of the top officers in my squad."
"You hurt my feelings, Brad. Moron? It's fortunate that my little girl didn't hear you badmouthing her father..." Grumman paused for a moment, over-exaggerating a big grimace on his face. Both of the soldiers knew that the moustached man was feigning his indignation.
"Yeah, so she's really your daughter. So that brings me back to the question I had in mind a moment ago. How old are you?" Bradley asked again, this time willing to get an answer.
His persistence made Amelia giggle, but she forced herself to hide it as much as possible while Grumman was looking for a way to escape the question. He quickly gave up.
"I never said I was twenty years old. I said I was still young."
"You were teaching Juliett lessons for getting married at twenty years old, but didn't you do just the same thing?"
Grumman slightly reddened in his cheeks, which was a sight to behold; the man rarely expressed this sort of emotion. He quickly cleared his throat to get back some dignity but to no avail.
"I was young and quite foolish. I'm already divorced – which is terribly sad for Liz. To answer your question properly, Brad, I'm turning thirty one this year. I don't think Juliett was wrong in her aspirations; she seemed to absolutely adore her Lloyd when she left the barracks." He paused, letting the statement sink it. Then the man resumed his light-hearted, joking attitude: "But it broke my heart to believe that such a young girl's heart was already taken!"
This time, Amelia laughed openly. Bradley scowled. How could Grumman easily amuse her when he was doing his best to be nice and barely managing it?
"Daddy, look, look, it's flying, it's flying!" Anna-Elizabeth happily squealed as the wind currents picked up the kite and lifted it high in the air.
The wind kept on increasing until it grew so strong that Amelia had to hold onto her skirt to prevent it from turning upside down. For a moment, Bradley thought the little girl would be dragged into the sky by her colourful kite; fortunately, her father ran to help her when he saw the toy tugging too hard on her small hands. The couple stood back at a distance, looking at that beautiful father-daughter pair playing together.
"She's such a good kid. And it was really nice from you to retrieve her kite from that tree. Her father is nice, but I don't see him climbing up trees."
"What's wrong about climbing up trees?"
Amelia shook her head, as if he should have already seen the evidence in front of him.
"He's too classy for it. He's playing with his daughter around the park, but look at his clothes. There's nothing messy, no folds on his shirt or coat, no dirt, nothing."
Bradley's face darkened. He didn't like the fact that she was looking at Grumman so intently. And did that mean he wasn't classy? Just this morning, she said he had royal looks, and now he was a commoner compared to Grumman? He was too proud to say it, but his feelings were truly hurt.
"Okay," he retorted, barely hiding his jealousy.
"I'm sorry Brad; I didn't mean it in a bad way. It's manlier to climb up trees, though it's also somewhat boyish."
He only grunted in reply, and she bit her lower lip, trying to find a better way to express her sentiments.
"Oh Brad, come on, you know what I meant!"
The wind suddenly blew again so strongly that Liz cried with fear, and Bradley felt something hitting him in the back. It wasn't really hard, but he jumped from surprise; as he caught the object, he realized Amelia's packages had rolled out from under the bench.
"I think we might need to run," he sighed, a slight grin forming on his face.
Amelia furrowed her eyebrows, bemused by his comment until she saw another package roll with the wind, right past her.
"Oh no! I can't have this happening! My aunt's going to get mad if we return with none of the things she asked for!" she panicked, trying to catch the groceries rolling on the ground. She tumbled and fell on one of bag with a yelp of surprise - Bradley laughed, even though the chilly wind was seeping through his thin shirt.
She glared at him, but only for a moment, as they joined forces to get every bag and package in hand before the winds got any stronger. Grumman suggested giving them a lift back to Amelia's residence, since they had a lot of stuff to carry. Liz was holding back a few tears on the way to the car, for the rope of her kite had snapped from the winds; the toy was lost forever in the sky, according to her.
"I'm sure someone will find it," Amelia said, attempting to cheer Liz up, "they'll repair it and a new child like you may have fun playing with it."
"But I won't ever be able to play with it again, and I torn my skirt and mommy will..."
Bradley looked to the car roof, annoyed by her whining. In a way it made her cute, but he couldn't put up with it anymore. He had never whined once in his life. Not even when he was sick. Or maybe he did once, but as always, his memories told him what he wanted to hear.
"Come now, I'll sew it back up for you. She won't see any difference," Amelia offered, taking Anna-Elizabeth on her lap in order to repair her dress.
Bradley sat on the other side of the car, the packages forming a wall between them. It didn't really bother him, since he hadn't decided what to think about kids and their ways. What really disturbed him was the way Grumman was staring at him in the rear-view mirror: the fool was raising his eyebrows and pointing at Amelia with his head, winking at him ridiculously, and just smiling stupidly. Even a blind man would have known that something was up between the eye-patch-wearing man and the woman, since Bradley was just too stern to be able to put up with someone for more than a few hours outside the battlefield. But still, did he really deserve such a treatment just because he was acting friendly with one particular woman?
His pride wanted to say that nothing was going on between them, because it was the truth. It was still way too soon for a relationship - he still had to adapt to the fact that he wasn't entirely human. He had killed many people, and the slaughter wouldn't stop anytime soon. That fact that Amelia disliked war also made him uncomfortable around her presence.
…
When Bradley finally got back to his private quarters in the scientists' wing of the army barracks, his head was buzzing with new questions, hate for children that laughed and yelled and squealed with high-pitched voices, and his deepening affection for Amelia. How he could mix all that in his mind, he had no idea, but it sufficiently explained the headache he had. The man removed his cold clothing to change into warmer ones before flopping down backwards on his bed. Sleep arrived quickly for him, but it was snatched away just as abruptly by an extremely irritating voice.
"Morning, number Twelve!"
He grumbled in his sleep and tried to raise himself up on the bed, his hair a ruffled mess on his head. He had been dreaming, a nice dream for once, but he couldn't recall it thanks to Gold-tooth's disturbing face that greeted him for the umpteenth morning.
He'd rather be awakened by a tank's bombshell than this manic man.
"Hi, number Twelve! Ready for all your tests?"
Bradley never asked the doctor to stop calling him by a number anymore. The man was a lost cause, and Father had forbidden him to kill him out of anger (or to kill him at all) because he still needed his services.
But that doesn't stop me from hating him, Bradley mused, letting his wrath pervade his thoughts.
"It's too early today."
The dishevelled soldier let his head thump back onto the pillows. He had been sleeping so well for once; why did this moron have to barge in, screeching his old call-number in his ears? He wasn't a simple numeral in the system anymore: he was King Bradley. Though, it was still somewhat difficult to actually go by that sometimes.
"I've heard you were getting pretty interested in one peculiar woman, Twelve. She's rubbing off on you, I assume, because you shouldn't be sassing me. You're still a perspective Fuhrer, not the real deal. You still need our help, boy." The last word was spoken in a sneering tone.
Twelve. Boy. That wasn't him. That just couldn't be him. Bradley forced his mind not to listen and block out everything the Gold-Toothed Doctor was saying.
"Yes, that Amelia could be considered attractive, but she's not of your rank - you know that, right?"
He stirred back up to attention as the man listed Amelia's beloved name. How did they know? He had never mentioned her around them, never really mentioned her at all, except when the war was still on. And there were only trustable comrades with him at that time. Or were there Father's spies among them? Envy could have been there. Gold-tooth could actually be Envy in disguise. He loathed Envy. But he breathed in heavily to check the scent of the being in front of him, and it was the old man's smell - not the monster's that Father called his brother.
"You've still got years of work ahead of you before you can take the spot of Fuhrer. But right now, getting a good wife with the right pedigree is something you should think about. At this time, you have absolutely nothing but your looks and strength as attractors." The doctor sneered at Bradley, showing the gaps between his teeth. Bradley was tempted to slaughter him right there and then, regardless of rules.
"So here, take a look at your potential wives." He added, throwing a file case onto Bradley's bed. Pictures and data spilled out of the open files, all of them women's pictures with their names, parents in the army, and fortunes that they would inherit. Some of them were twice his age. Bradley quickly averted his eyes from the piles of photos, refusing to even consider choosing someone so important in his life on a whim like this.
"You can choose one among them, so get what you want from that Amelia and forget her quickly. Our plans need to get in motion," Gold-tooth said, his eyes shifting in various different directions.
Bradley glared at him, knowing he couldn't expect anything else than caustic comments about his actions. But he would definitely not accept the doctor including Amelia in those insults. And slowly, but surely, he took in the terrible reality of his life. If his relationship got any more serious with Amelia, who he wanted to protect at all costs, he would drag her into danger just by wanting her by his side. His souls laughed at him.
We already knew it would happen, the souls mocked. Aren't you supposed to be brilliant, Wrath, or did you just realize that? It was bound to happen. So stop seeing that woman before that you bring her more trouble than good. She's a nice girl. She doesn't need to suffer.
And Bradley knew it; he hadn't been thinking farther ahead lately. But seeing the pictures of all the potential wives for him, the prospective Fuhrer, put everything into a new perspective.
"What if I object with this selection?" he asked.
"Oh, if you're not the Fuhrer in twenty years, all my life's work will have been for nothing. And it's sad you know, because the other, still-living Fuhrer candidates aren't in any shape to take your place. Though this place mainly involves itself with your capabilities on the battlefield and within the army, there's more to it. It's a little like royalty, but what would you know about it, huh?"
The Gold-Toothed Doctor chuckled, his eyes brightening suddenly.
"Oh, I know. I have something to show you. Get up, Twelve."
Bradley wasn't sure if he was going to like it, but he was fully awake now in any case - so he stood up from the bedside and followed the doctor's lead. He would have to endure their examination tests afterwards anyway.
"Since you're number twelve, what do you think we did with the survivors?"
Bradley shivered at the thought. He had forgotten about the existences of his fellow Fuhrer aspirants. Sometimes, he tried to convince himself that they never existed at all and that it had all been a nightmare. The soldier never wondered over this question; in his case, he was too busy trying to understand and mimic normal human behavior. He'd managed so far.
"You and the other scientists turned them into normal soldiers?"
"So that they would kill you when your back's turned?" Gold-tooth laughed. "Oh no, we've prepared them for dire circumstances. And if you fail your duties but somehow survive the aftermath, you'll have the same fate, Twelve."
The two men stopped in front of a huge, twenty-foot tall steel door, deep under the labs of Central's HQ. Gold-tooth had an infuriatingly smug look on his wrinkled face, and his constant stare forced Bradley to maintain his vigilance and a veil of impassibility. He wasn't going to let the man in front of him see that he was alarmed. No way would he be moved by any threats from that man.
Gold-tooth pressed on one particular spot of the wall next to the door, and it slowly swung open with a thudding sound. He extended one arm inside, in order to invite Bradley in first. Could it be a trap? The man immediately brushed away the thought; he had the Ultimate Eye, he was a homunculus, and he couldn't be simply disposed of like trash. He still had everything to prove. Taking in a slight breath, Bradley walked in.
His eyes widened as he recognized the dormitory where he used to room together with the other trainees. The metallic bed-frames were aligned in two rows. A few night tables stood between them, but some of them were broken to pieces. The inhabitants occupying the room, either sitting on the beds or on the floor, looked up as he walked in.
Bradley recognized them. But worse, they seemed to recognize him. He had fenced with them. He had trained at fighting with them. Everything he knew, they knew it. And now, he was more important; he was different, higher. Still whole. He could tell something had changed about them. A few of them stood up or screeched out at his side, but the rest remained still, their eyes slightly widening or their neck cracking as they moved too quickly. Their eyes were empty of purpose – all of them looked like a bunch of lifeless puppets waiting for their master. Their skin was all grey from living underground for the last year. None of them were talking when he had entered; none of them were saying a word right now. They were just waiting.
Bradley felt it was wrong, he felt it in his bones and in his blood and he wanted to run away, but he couldn't. He had to prove himself and to disguise his fear. In fact, he had to disguise everything.
"What happened with them?"
"When they heard they wouldn't even be tested to become Fuhrer, they got a little mad. We... had to do some brain-rotting to turn them into perfect slaves."
Brain-rot? Was it literal or just another way of talking about an alchemical experiment? Whatever it meant, nothing stopped the fact that the men before him were lifeless. One of them was rocking to and fro absentmindedly, staring into space. Another one was banging his head on the cracked concrete wall, slowly, repeatedly. The noise got on Bradley's nerves. He felt his stomach churn as he saw the life filled with monotony that could have possibly been his.
"What do they do?" he asked roughly – he couldn't avert his eyes from the scenes in front of him.
His voice sounded too strong, alive in that room filled with living corpses waiting for orders, staring at him with disapproval in their eyes: as if something deep within them told them they couldn't like this man. He had stolen so much from each of them. It could have been any of them out in the human world, taking strolls with Amelia. But it was him. It was him, and how he was glad!
"Nothing. They train to keep in shape, they eat, and they run around through underground tunnels. They fight with chimeras. But the rest of the time, they idly wait for orders. However, they can't stand not moving for hours, so they end up doing idiotic actions. This one has been banging his head to that wall for two days now, but he'll still be in perfect shape for fighting. A testament to my immense scientific genius. Though his face will look bit weird, but well, who cares?"
I do. But why should I, huh? Bradley thought bitterly.
"Who do they fight? What orders can you give them?"
"Oh, if any trespassers were to find the deepest secrets of our little organization, they would be our safeguards to prevent them from escaping. They're my lovely bodyguards. So, what do you think, Twelve? Want to see them in action?"
No, he didn't want to. He was attempting to calm down his breathing, despite all his efforts of staying calm and indifferent. What was this madness? Had he been raised for that? Luckily, he never knew failure due to his skill. But, in the off-chance of him actually failing, would this have been his life? Bradley realized the answer was yes. And with that arose another terrible question; why him more than any of them? Every one of them was owed an Amelia to help them adapt in this world. Every single of them had worked hard to the bone (though he had worked harder). Maybe these were all comforting lies him. Wasn't he replaceable after all, just as the eleven first prospective candidates had been disposed of?
He remembered their corpses, all haphazardly tossed into a side room and piled together until he came and succeeded at containing the stone. He could also remember all of the torturous experiments that the scientists would create in order to enhance their performances. And even though he was a grizzled war-veteran who had seen all sorts of terrible things in life, Bradley retched. Stumbling over himself, the frazzled man shoved away Gold-tooth out of his path and dashed out of the labs, out of the headquarters, and out of this madness that had always been his life.
I was stronger than them. It's because I was stronger that I went through it all, it's because I'm better and... Bradley kept attempting to convince himself of his self-worth.
He hated it.
This will never happen to me, whatever they did to them, I'll never be...
But wasn't he already a slave? His mission was to become Fuhrer in order to cover up his Father's plans and carve a transmutation circle of blood around the country, until the whole population could be entirely sacrificed for one man. Amestris would be sacrificed with Amelia, annoying Grumman and his daughter, Juliett, the other prospective Fuhrers... he himself would be sacrificed too in the end, he guessed.
The man tried to relax, wanting to shut away all these stray thoughts. What good would it do him to philosophize over such things?
I don't want to die. I don't want Amelia to be hurt. I don't want to work for anyone else than myself. I never asked for any of this. But I'm stuck, aren't I? he thought, leaning with his back against the brick wall outside of the underground barracks.
You sure are, man. So. What will you do? the many different souls in his Philosopher's Stone chorused.
Bradley's own soul quivered, crushed beneath the rising fear and anger from the other belligerent spirits.
I'll become Fuhrer. I'll show them that I'm more than just a number or a king. I've also realized it's more beneficial for me in the long run if I take longer to run, he admitted to himself, looking toward the sun setting over the horizon.
Why so?
There are still some things I want to live through. Yes, life is decided on a set course for me, but it's my own journey, isn't it? So I'll enjoy it. Even if they try to scare me off and threaten me, I'm stronger than all the others. I have ambition. Drive. They don't, and that makes them the weaker force in the end.
To be continued...
Reviews are welcome as always. Plz review to have me writing faster. ^_^