He stood there, silent, watching the flames as they exploded against the concrete wall, of the military's Rizenbuhl headquarters. He ran a hand through his hair, and wiped the sweat off his forehead that had appeared due to the immense heat of the blast. Even from this location, on a hill over looking the base from some two hundred yards away, he could feel the energy being released. He was sure that the Full Metal Alchemist was dead.
He placed his hands on his hips watching until the fire had died away, slightly frowning. He hated to watch it, however he needed to make sure it was over. He needed to know that Full Metal was gone for good.
He watched Mustang, leave from the scene, with his head hung low and he slightly laughed due to the colonels' excellent acting skills. Mustang had them actually believing he was upset to destroy, Full Metal.
Glancing over at the woman next to him, her eyes greeted his and she rested her head on his shoulder. He smiled as he wrapped his arm around her waist. He pulled her close and took a deep breath, exhaling after a moment of prolonged silence, which remained until he released the air in his chest and vocalized it.
"It's finally over." He spoke out into the air while staring off into the distance. She looked over and was not shocked to find that he was staring at the spot where Full Metal had been standing no less than five minutes ago.
They stayed there watching the scene with intent. They both realized what it meant, and it felt now as if a whole bunch of things that they had overlooked would be their ultimate downfall. While they watched, the flames receded away into nothing more than a handful of small isolated fires, which posed no threat.
She was overjoyed that the nightmare was finally over, yet she wished in heart that it had happened another way. She could feel the guilt burrowing its way into her soul and she tried to let the feeling slip away, however she had no such luck and she began to feel nauseous. She took a few deep breaths, which served no purpose other than to make her feel lightheaded as well.
"You know," she whispered into his ear lightly enough that he could barely hear her at all. "This is wrong." She moved away from him and took a seat on the ground burying her face in her hands saying nothing.
He watched her for a few minutes before once again diverting his attention towards the death site. So shortly ago, he had been alive and now… now he was free. It was the most sensational feeling he had ever known.
The sunrise was beautiful, yet he found it to be the most hideous thing he had seen. A man had just died. He deserved to, but a man nonetheless was dead. He felt no guilt, that man had committed almost every heinous crime against, every known, physical, celestial, moral and human law. But then again who was he to pass judgment?
He was given no right to decide who deserved to live and who was to be condemned to death. He knew this would be another cause for eternal punishment, yet he had of course found this to be a just cause. That man had destroyed hundreds, right in front of his very eyes. While he realized he was in no manner correct for what he had done to this man as revenge, he was convinced that the death he received was only a small one compared to what he should have, and would have faced, had they known.
He took a deep breath filling his body, mind and soul with the fresh morning air. The dew that was on the grass cooled the air enough that it was like ice, which suited him, just fine.
He gently moved over to her side, taking a seat and softly speaking into her ear, "I know." He paused for a second trying to catch his running thoughts however had no such luck and rather allowed himself to just drop off.
He felt as if he were that man, roasted alive, yet he managed to shake the thought from his head. He was nothing like that man. He was free. Free from the state and free from the death that he had just endured.
"I'm just wondering, what are we going to do?" she looked over at him and saw that his face was inches away from hers. She shrugged off the feeling to kiss him as they had more important matters that they needed to tend to.
He closed his eyes and lay down, sprawling out, stretching his limbs. She followed his example and rested her head on his chest, while he ran a hand through her hair.
"Look," he spoke out into the open while watching the morning clouds, "All I know is that… we can't go back. They wouldn't understand. We need to leave, be alone."
She watched him with confusion and uncertainty at what he was proposing. She could leave with him and be happy for the rest of her life, yet she had to say goodbye. She couldn't just leave.
For a few moments she sat in silent thought, unsure of what to do. She was standing at a fork in the road and only one choice could be made. Down one road was death with family and the other led to lifelong love and then an eternity of everlasting happiness… with him.
She smiled to herself at all that had happened since that night, when that package arrived. She had cursed Mustang at the time, but she couldn't have predicted what it would bring for them. He always had things planned out; at least he made it seem like it.
Mustang had always sent Ed on random missions and acted as if a failed one had been the outcome he was looking for all along.
"How did this whole thing happen?" she watched his eyes as they twitched lightly at the question and didn't give her a response. "When did the thing start?" she gazed at him harder, becoming upset when he still didn't provide her with a sufficient answer. "Ed, just answer me. How did this happen?"
He kissed her on the forehead and played with her hair some more. "How it began?" He looked out towards nothing, yet taking in everything. "Fine then," he nodded "How it began…"
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He was watching them like a hawk, and they stared at him with the same intent. He knew it was life or death and he could tell by the looks in their eyes they too could sense it. He could see that the death they had in mind for him was not one of self-defense or revenge. It was malice. Simple malice. They would take pleasure in killing him and he would not let that happen. He could not let that happen.
With the smoke pouring around them, he thought they looked like demons from the underworld, sent to wreak havoc on the weak and collect innocent souls. The thought however was greeted by simple logic that almost made him crack up. He wasn't weak and his soul sure as hell wasn't innocent.
He closed his eyes letting the energy flow through his body, preparing himself for what was to come and he felt his muscles twitch in response to the expectancy of an attack.
All thoughts of death faded from his mind as he felt old combat memories and attack plans wash through, allowing him to devise the perfect plan of attack based on which one of the men attacked first.
The air cleansed his lungs; cooling down his blood and allowing himself time to calm down. Anger was one of the greatest and most powerful emotions when going to battle, he was aware of this, yet he also knew that it seldom helped the user to the fullest extent.
He found that a clear mind was more efficient for the task at hand. These men actually thought they had a chance and felt pity on their souls for they believed they would walk away unscathed if they attacked him.. He kept his eyes surveying each of them, silently praying for the lord to have mercy on their souls.
He sighed under his breath. He hated this. Killing men. He was utterly repulsed by what he had to do if it got serious. He was utterly repulsed by what he had already had to do when things had gotten to serious.
Then again, that was the way of the world, death. Killing was human nature. Although some people never actually carried it out, the urge to kill, the NEED to kill, was there. Lurking in the darkest areas of the soul, body and mind, that need existed.
"Let that man go," he spoke calmly while inspecting his hands. They stood silent and tightened their grips on their weapons at what he had said. He knew this was a bad situation to be in, however, he couldn't just get up and run. That would only spell death.
"Let that man go." He repeated more sternly than at first. He was on the verge of giving these men a demonstration of what was to come if they decided to push him that far. He smiled instead. "Listen, he said walking over to the first man who was in front of him. "I figure we can this the easy way," he spoke while placing a hand on the man's pistol. "Or" he began with a hint of anger in his voice, "We can do it my way." He smirked one last time before he transmuted the piece of weaponry into a small steel block, which the man allowed to drop to the ground.
Ed looked at the man and almost chuckled. If his jaw had dropped anymore it would most likely be on the ground as well. He could see a drastic change in his eyes as well as his spiritual aura. His eyes showed a new emotion: fear, and the amount of energy this man had been generating, which had once been as raging as a flash fire, was now no more than a mere spark.
Each man had the same look and they each came off as the cowards they really were. One minute they had been ready to attack, assured that the number of them insured victory. They had however come to realize the arrogance of this idea that they held so close to their hearts was a mistake they had made to soon.
"I'll allow you to have some options," he spoke with a hint of humor in his voice running a hand through his hair. "You leave now, you live. You fight… well you get the general idea," he motioned to the ground before returning his original position of having his arms crossed. "The choice," he grinned "Is yours. Choose wisely."
Each man looked over to the one who stood next to him and they each managed to exchange small looks, expressing their votes through optical signals. They made sure that they each had taken a while to sort out the decisions and Ed stood there, silently watching with slight interest in how they managed to have their own "language."
He was watching them for what he felt to be nearly five minutes and he was growing tired of the delayed reaction he had been hoping for. He wanted these men to shake in their boots. Run home with their tails between their legs.
He could feel their desire to kill him growing; along with the idiocy that housed itself in their brains. He knew these men were not going to flee, for they would have done so already. No, these men were going to fight, attempt to win. They were just deciding on the best possible method of attack.
He however had his method of attack selected in his mind. He could here the years of his training and experience in the martial sciences screaming inside his head. Whenever he went into battle, the voices in his head coached him, instructed him, with past advice, allowing him to prevail with little effort. When he went into a fight where the chance of survival was low, the voices thundered as loud as ever, threatening to split his head in half, from the inside out. He always attempted to end those sorts of confrontations quickly, so as to end the pain.
He was waiting for the first sign of attack. Then he would make his move. He surveyed the situation from all angles possible and he knew that the best plan of action was defense. These men would all rush in and that was when he would finish them off. He was going to use their own force and sizes against them. It seemed ironic that the very strengths upon which they lived would be their downfall.
He worked on blocking out all of his childhood memories so he could accomplish the deed upon which he had set out to do. He refused to dwell in the past, especially since it couldn't help him now. He needed to be in a state of pure calm, where he could be at one with the monster in himself. The past only made him see what had been and it would only create hesitation. In the time it took him to make a decision he was most likely dead, therefore he needed to make clean, quick choices. He needed to forget his innocent childhood. Without it he was ruthless, cold… a warrior. When the last man was dead he would recede back to normal and the world he had once known, been a part of as a child would carefully and painfully show him what he had once been and what he had become over a lifetime of distrust, hate and pain. It always did.
He hated the irony of the whole world. As a child he had tried to create life through alchemy and by attempting to do so he now was destroying it. The fact that he had lost his brother, his leg and his arm all had led him to this place, after all. Had the horrible childhood events never happened, it was safe to assume that he would be leading a very different life, as a very different person, at least he thought so.
He was upset that he let himself dwell on what could have been, because wallowing in self-disgust wouldn't change anything. He could whine about it all he wanted, when he awoke the next morning nothing would be different.
He felt his right shoulder pop and he held himself back from flinching. He didn't want to show these men any weakness, since he knew they would be eyeing him up for one. Five men would have to look at every aspect to even dream of challenging just one alchemist. They weren't going to flee; yet they weren't going to rush into battle either. They were trying to play it as smart as their simple minds would allow them to.
He was in the middle of blocking out the pain from another series of auto mail to organic adjustment when the first blow was attempted. The man who was closest to him attempted to make contact with his jaw, however he easily avoided it by leaning back on his right foot as his left foot was in front. The fist missed his face by an inch or two and he smirked as he threw himself into his own position of attack, kneeling down and jabbing the man in the stomach.
He could see the other men rush in, for what he believed to be an attempt to hold him down. He grinned as he made a fist and landed his left foot upside the next mans face and landing his right fist square on the others nose. Blood poured from both men's nostrils.
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He stared off into space as she placed a hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating, pulsing with the life that was in his body. She was thrilled that he was alive and she knew he would be there for her from now on. However she felt as if they were evil. She shook the feeling away, for it was over. She was selfish she thought yet she smiled knowing that even though it was wrong, she would do anything in her power to save him. To love him.
She never wanted to let him go. She knew that with what had happened in such a short time of him coming home, any day something could claim him as a prize for the underworld. She was neither ready nor willing to let that happen and if any one tried, she was ready.
They were going to grow old together, have children and die together, happy. No one was going to take that away and she was going to make sure of that.
"It's funny," he spoke after nearly ten minutes since he had started to tell her the story of what had happened that night. He had stopped after he had told her a little about the fight he had with those men and she still wanted to know more. After all, he had destroyed those men. She needed to know what happened exactly, not that it would stop her from loving him.
"It' funny," he laughed without any emotion, "That… no matter how hard you try… the life you live is nothing like the life you chose. No matter what you do, the only way to escape is…death." He whispered. "However," he laughed, "Sometimes, being alive, is worse than being dead."
