Erwin Rommel says: In the absence of orders, find something and kill it. :D
So, writing for Olivier can be very… well, it's hard to tell if your nailing her character, ya know? So, I tried to do her justice, and I don't think that I did a half bad job on it, but if you think "Wow, OOC!" please tell me.
Colonel Bastard,
I don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. The other day I was snooping around the S.A. record office when I found a file on a man named Al Manhattan. The records didn't say much about him, other than the fact that he doesn't know much about his past at all. Apparently, he says he woke up in the town of Manhattan about five months ago, and didn't remember anything about his past. All he had on him was a set of gloves that said "Al".
Do you see where this is going? I haven't seen my brother since the Promise day, Colonel.
The boy, whose age in 'Unknown', hasn't received the notice that he's been officially accepted into the State Alchemist program, but the report said that "Though clearly young, he shows such talent and understanding of alchemy that it would be a truly foolish mistake to pass up the opportunity."
I've been trying to find him, but if you could keep an eye out for him, I think it would fall in your best interest. And I would appreciate it, if that matters at all.
And it might be nothing. But this is the closest thing that I have to a lead, so please: keep me posted.
-Ed
P.S.: Nice janitor's closet. I wouldn't have expected you to go blue collar, but I can't say it doesn't suit you.
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"You were shot five times, shattered your arm, punctured a lung. Twice. Stabbed with a knife which you ripped out yourself, causing the laceration to be twice as bad as it would have been, and you're complaining about nurses." It was indeed a tad ridiculous. "Kellogg, it's a miracle you're alive in the first place." He shrugged in response, brushing off Roy.
"I'm hard to kill. Anyway, I'm all better now, but the friggin' hospital staff won't let me out of this hell hole." Armstrong got an odd look on her face at his comment, and Riza felt like she was missing something.
She didn't know what Kellogg's issue was. She would have thought that he would have been happy to take a few days rest after all that he had been through. Not to mention the coma. Regardless, there was nothing they could do about it; He had just woken up today after two months of unconsciousness, and the hospital required at least three day's rest before they were permitted leave. In fact, with all that happened to him, not to mention the multiple surgeries that he had gone through without knowing, he was lucky to get only three days for mental reconstruction.
"Please, don't leave me alone with the hospital staff. Every time I get stuck inside this place they try to force feed me their mental stability programs, and I freakin' sick of them. Not to mention the food…" Breda seemed to awake at his mention of 'food', and immediately spoke up.
"Food? I love hospital food. I'll gladly take it." Before Roy had a chance to shut him up, Kellogg handed him his plate.
"So, now for the ten million sens question." Roy said.
"Why are you guys here. I could I wanted to make sure that you're alright. I also want to go over what happened at the Ball two months ago, among other things." Kellogg looked skeptical. His lack of speech indicated to Roy that his explanation wasn't quite good enough, so he explained further. "And, we have a man from the incident that is still in recovery. We were checking up on him when we learned that you came to, so I thought we'd drop by so I could deal with you myself." Felix nodded his head in understanding.
"And Olivier?"
"I'm here to make my regular checkups. Mustang assigned me to be your bodyguard, which was probably a good idea." Riza understood exactly what she meant. One only gets a single chance to make a first impression, and Kellogg did so by insulting people and trying to get under their skin as much as possible. The idea that someone might want to kill him didn't seem ludicrous by any definition of the word.
"So, Kellogg, and this is the biggest reason that it's important for me to come to you, we have a problem. The terrorist cell that we have been tracking, or rather, attempting to track, was the one who was responsible for the attack on HQ. We have about five survivors from the attack, and they all claim to belong to the Royal Drachmann Military." Alarm bells seemed to ring in Kellogg's head, and he was obviously arriving to the same conclusion that they had.
"That's bullshit. Those guys were incompetent dipshits. They even didn't search their hostages for weapons, and this is the State for God's sake. They're no more military than my mother fucking cat." Roy nodded his head.
"That's what we were thinking. Not to mention the fact that if the RDM were to stage attacks like this, they would at least have the sense to execute the officers, rather than waiting around to get killed.
So that's one of our major problems. If these guys aren't RDM, then who are they? They aren't religious terrorists, nor are they political. If they were then they would have stated their cause. They aren't here to get revenge. None of them have said that they had a real problem with the State. They don't seem to have a cause. The only thing that makes sense is that they're a criminal enterprise, but even that seems unlikely. Underground organizations stay away from the State Military, save for the MPs."
"So the only thing you have is oral statements that they're DRM," Kellogg said.
"Which is more than likely just a ruse to escape punishment. We've sent out written confirmation to the Drachmann Government, but until that returns with a stamp proving its illegitimacy they are protected under international treaty."
"So that sucks. But so what? You can keep it down for the time being, until you get your forms back, and until then nothing bad is gunna happen. Their little organization is so crippled that it can't count its toes. We cut them all off." Roy sighed.
"Well, that's where the shit really hits the fan." Roy leaned back in his seat and rested his head on his hands before continuing. "Our biggest problem right now is not the terrorists. At least directly. I have doubts as to if they even exist any longer.
"Our biggest problem is Heat." Felix looked at him questioningly. "Heat seems to believe that the terrorists are in fact RDM, and that Drachma is staging preemptive strikes at High Command to soften us for the initial blow, so to speak. For all that we thought he wasn't doing anything, it seems he was. Heat suddenly has mounds and mounds of investigative reports on how they got in country, and why they chose the places to attack that they did."
"So just shut him up. Olivier's in charge of the department that his belongs to, so ship him out to eastern and have him rot in the desert."
"It's not that simple anymore. After the Ball, for God knows why, Heat was promoted to Brigadier General, and I don't have the same authorization over the General Staff that I do over everyone else. Furthermore, he managed to get himself transferred out of The Department of Terrorism, and into Foreign Affairs." Roy paused to let Kellogg process the situation.
"So now Heat's skirt has been lifted to reveal his raging hard-on to go to war," Felix said. Roy seemed a bit taken aback by his euphemism, and Olivier just rolled her eyes.
"Uh, something like that. The thing is, Kellogg, we can't go to war. We don't have the resources, or the man power. Our hierarchy is in shambles from the Promise Day, and now half of our General Staff is made up of inexperienced military brats, who just managed to be in bed with the right people at the right time."
"I stiff fail to see what this has to do with me."
"You're the one who's dealt with him the most. You know him better than anyone here." Riza could tell that Kellogg knew exactly where this was going.
"My hand is already suffering from the cramps it knows it's going to have from all the reports I'm going to fill out. You know, for all the complaining you do about it, you make your underlings do most of it." Roy stood up and put his overcoat on. Riza immediately stood beside him and absent mindedly checked to see if his path out the door was clear of any foreign objects.
"One of the many perks of being a General, Master Gunnery Sergeant. Perhaps you should have become an officer." Roy took the opportunity to stand up, indicating that he was ready to leave. Riza stood up beside him and help him with his coat.
"Somehow, Major General, the prospect of sitting around in an office all day doesn't suit me. I'll take the bullet wounds and paperwork any day," he responded while leaning back in his bed to get some rest.
She and Roy walked down the hall in their usual silence. Despite them having a relationship, he knew to keep his hands off in public. Well, the term 'keeping his hands off' was applied loosely here; he still had his arm wound around her waist to guide him. Something she knew he took far too much pleasure in. It was his way of claiming her as his and still maintaining the level of professionalism that was required in the Military.
In the car, on the way back, Roy took her off guard by asking a sudden a question.
"Lieutenant? Can I trust Kellogg?" She kept her eyes on the road ahead of her, despite the temptation to try and read his face.
"Sir?"
"You've spent a lot of tie with him, right? I need to know. I haven't spent as much time with my men as I would like to, and I hardly know him. I only have Armstrong's assurance, and I'd just like another's opinion." As she thought about it the more she realized that she wasn't qualified to make such a generalization.
"To tell you the truth, sir, I'm really not sure. He's teaching me to fight, but other than that I don't have any contact with him." He thought for a moment, and she turned into HQ and parked her car.
"I'd like you to get to know him. I'm trying to prevent a war, and the last thing I need is a trigger happy maniac."
"Yes sir." Riza couldn't help but feel like she was being used to tame a wolf.
* * *
"You know, Felix, this is the first time we've been alone since you've woken up." Felix turned to the woman who was speaking. She had that look in her eye; that teasing look that he was fairly sure only he had seen.
"So it has been. The nurses seem to have a knack to interrupt." Olivier stood up and walked over to his bed.
"I've had to sit here for two long months, having to stare at you, helpless, lying on the bed." He smirked at her. Spoke slowly, rolling around her words in her mouth before she permitted them to escape. She was close enough that her scent drifted into his nose easily. He only wished that he enjoyed it as much as he should have.
"Funny. The last time I saw you, you were covered in blood from head to toe, and anything but helpless." She crawled on top of him, straddling his waist ad pulled herself back a bit, allowing herself to take him into her sight completely.
"Oh, I bet you just loved that. Seeing my hair drenched in red. Seeing it slowly cascade down my neck and spill into my jacket. I bet you just wanted to reach up and lick. It off me." The thought had crossed his mind. More than once.
"Olivier, stop. You know why we can't do this." Her smirk turned wider, as if she had just found exactly what she wanted. Which she probably had.
"Oh, come on, Felix. Let me have my fun." He would have, until she had brought up the fact that she still remembered his weakness. "I even came prepared. Remember this?" She pulled out a large knife. Oh yes, he remembered that knife. That was the knife that she had once managed to seduce him with. The memory of it sliding across her bare skin was still fresh in his mind, haunting him, teasing him. He both loved and hated that knife.
And right now he hated it. Right now it was being used against him and, given a little more teasing, it might've been successful.
She dragged the blade across her arm, causing the skin to stretch and nearly break. His hands wanted nothing more than grasp the blade and tear open her flesh himself. His eyes wouldn't leave the white markings that the sharp edge left, and his heavy breathing traitorously betrayed his emotions. But he would not move his hand. Even if it took all of his will power, he would not. Move. His. Hand.
In spite of himself he saw his arm reach forward and his fingers grasp the handle. He brought the knife to eye level to examine it more closely. Grasping her arm with his empty left hand, he searched for the white etchings that she had made when teasing him.
Locating the marks, he brought the knife to the skin and pressed down lightly, stretching the skin downwardly. Then, abruptly, he forced it into her body. A maroon liquid filed the area, and a cry of pain, which she tried to disguise as pleasure, escaped from Olivier's lungs.
Felix immediately pulled the knife away from her body, and looked at her sternly. "I told you no, Olivier. What can't you understand about that?"
"What I can't understand is how you say no, but then go on with it all the same." Her smirk was still present, but it was forced at this point. He had cut her deeply and, though she was able to stand it, the pain had hurt her and not aroused her. She wasn't a freak, like he was.
"Get off of me." Her smirk turned malicious as she glared at him.
"Why do you deny yourself what you want, Felix? I'm offering it to you, and all you do is turn it down." Because the last time I took what I wanted, I woke up to you on the verge of death. He could remember her lying there in all that blood, and how… hot she was. Before he realized she was unconscious, not asleep.
"Because you deserve better than me, Olivier." He stared into her eyes, and she stared back. "Someone who wants your body. Not your blood."
She grudgingly climbed off him to stand beside him and glare at him. He could tell that she wanted nothing more than to leave at this point. He didn't blame her. She wasn't the only one who wanted away from the other; her arm was still exposed and the red fluid dripped down its length so appealingly…
Riza could tell she was interrupting something. She had no idea what, but she could tell that she was interrupting something. The way the two just stood there looking at each other almost creped her out, not to mention the blood on Olivier's arm. Armstrong's back was turned, hiding the expression on her face from Riza, but Kellogg was in full view of her. The expression on his face was near unreadable. A mix of lust, anger, sadness, and desperation, all shining through more clearly than she had ever seen before.
The cat in her arms meowed, betraying her presence to the two. Kellogg's eyes shifted their focus onto her, and Armstrong twisted herself to look in Riza's direction. To her surprise she could see a hint of appreciation on the woman's face before it went back to its usual contorted scowl. The long haired blond stormed out of the room, grumbling about how she had to go and clean herself up.
"Is she alright?" She briefly wondered if she should go get a nurse.
"She can take care of herself. That is, so long as she doesn't get mobbed by the staff on her way to wherever she's going." He reached his arms to her in an inviting manner. "Come to papa Felix!"
She just stood there and looked at him oddly for a second before she realized that he was talking to the ball of fur that she was absentmindedly petting. The cat finished licking its paw and leapt out of her hold and into his.
She just stood there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. She was no conversationalist; she was used to standing in the background, and would respond when spoken to, but that was usually it. Luckily for her, he started talking before she was forced into any speaking.
"How long have you been there? I mean, how much of that did you see?" Not enough to realize that there was something to see. She couldn't but wonder exactly what went down between him and Armstrong, but the way he posed his question suggested that it was much more than she would have ever thought.
"A couple minutes. Long enough." She had once heard someone say that 'People are stupid', The idea being that if someone thought that if you knew more than you really did, then they would divulge more than they would intend. After all, it wasn't like he was going to quiz her on how much she saw.
"It's not like she's a slut." It had worked like a charm. "You may think that, after how hard she was coming onto me, but she's not. She just knows what I want." That was more information than she had counted on. She was indeed right that much more had gone on between them than she would have thought. Continuing her charade, she pooped on eyebrow and looked at him questioningly.
"And she was trying to get what she wants?" He let out a short harsh laugh at that.
"She thinks she knows what she wants."
Olivier ran her wet hands through her hair. She had taken the effort to bandage up her throbbing arm after running it under the cold water of the ladies room facet, but that hadn't really done anything to soothe her mental state. Or to stop the bleeding. Taking a bored look at the bandage, which she had only applied minutes earlier, she was going to need new wrapping soon.
It wasn't too often that she got a chance to look at herself, as she was doing now. She usually kept herself too busy. She glared at the woman in the mirror, and was pleased by what she saw; despite the stress, she still had the face that was able to make most men shit their pants. The years of experience had taught her how to maintain her icy demeanor, even when she could find the actual attitude in herself. She was worried that the months in the soft life of central had taken that away, but clearly they had not.
Hey eyes drifted a bit lower, and took in the details of her body, as much as the black tank top would allow. Her skin was covered in markings, reminding her vaguely of some her soldier's tattoos that they wore like medals. But her being didn't have any tattoos on it, and in their place were a countless number of scars. When she peeled the thin piece of clothing off, the scars continued, some bold, others faded, like a timeline of her memories and mistakes, carved into her person. Her arm would be the newest addition to her collection, but not the first intentional.
A large number of them, seven when one cared to be exact, were easily recognizable as the same age. They were old, perhaps four, five, maybe six years old, but Felix had cut deep; they were there to stay for a good long time. And that was how she preferred it. Those scars were the only tangible evidence she had of that night, and damn near the only memories. It had taken a lot of will power to do anything with the pain of the cuts soaking up her attention, and while she was awake it had taken all the effort not to collapse form the loss of blood.
There had been no pleasure for her that night. She wasn't… she never got off from the pain. Yet, she was willing to do it all over again. Even knowing that he could very possibly lose control, ending with her lying in a gurney next to him or worse. Perhaps she did deserve better. But she didn't want better.
"And you know what she wants better than she does?" He smiled at her, a toothy draconic smile, the one that tended to send shivers down her spine.
"Olivier is the closest thing that I've had to 'love'. But I can't love. At least, not her." She stared at him as if to say, 'why not?' "Any type of 'love' I would share with her would be no better than homosexuality." That statement caught her off guard. "And that is a sin."
"Why? Love is love, no matter who it's shared by. Just because you don't agree with their beliefs, doesn't mean they are wrong." He kept his smile up, looking down at her belittlingly.
"You like to stand on your high horse and claim that you are 'accepting', that you won't hold others opinions against them. You're just another hypocrite. Homosexuality is a mental deficiency; the wires didn't connect quite right, and instead produced something that was wrong. They are a scourge to society, just as murderers and rapists." She was starting to get angry, but, remembering who she was taking to, forced her voice to stay even.
"How can you say that? You cannot blame people for what they cannot control; it's not fair to their situation."
"As I said, Ms. Hawkeye, you are a hypocrite. You say 'the poor people, they cannot control their actions, so we should put up with them' yet you cannot stand other's with basically the same problem."
"Give me one example."
"Me." Riza was at a loss of words. "You think me a creep, who enjoys the slaughter. You know why? Because I'm masochistic. Somehow, when the wires in my brain were getting connected, someone placed something in the wrong way, so now I associate the infliction of pain with sexual stimulation and pleasure. In the end, it's not my fault, but that doesn't change anything. You hate me for it, and you should; I'm a freak. Just don't pretend to be 'accepting' to people who don't have control of their fate, because the fact is that you're not."
She just sat there in silence for a while, because she didn't know what to say. Then, something that he said earlier came back into her mind.
"You said 'she knows what you want.' Was that why her arm was bleeding?" He nodded his head, his face unreadable.
The nurse's eyes widened when Olivier showed her the laceration on her forearm. The bandages that she had applied herself were, at this point, useless, as the blood was dripping through the thick gauze, falling freely to the ground when gravity took charge of it. Somehow that seemed like a pretty good sign to her that perhaps the wound was worse than she initially thought, so she had decided to seek medical attention. Judging by the woman's reaction, she had been right.
"This happened recently, Miss. How did you manage to cut yourself so badly?"
"I tripped and fell on my knife," she lied. "It happens to the best of us, I'm afraid. You should be relieved that I landed on my arm." In a situation like this, it was better to just lie. Telling the truth would get Felix in trouble, and it hadn't been his fault. She was asking for it, quite literally.
"Umm, how did you manage to fall with your arm hitting the ground like that?" she asked, skeptically. Damn bitch was perspective. How the hell did she think she was anyway? If that was her explanation, then that should be what she believes. She didn't need to nose around in her private affairs.
"Just fix the damn thing already. Or do I half to seek out a more competent nurse?" The woman shrunk in Olivier's piecing stare, and meekly started to lead her to a place that she could better apply the bandages.
Pride let out a long, whiny meow in complaint that the two adults were paying more attention to each other than they were him, causing the two adults to break out of their silence.
"How did they treat you, kitty? Were they good to you when Poppy was gone?" The cat looked up to him and playfully swatted at his face, causing to Riza to smile. The scene reminded her somewhat of her own reuniting with Black Hayate, and when she saw the man act like that, it made it easy to forget the things that he had declared about himself. He seemed more… human.
"Your cat surprised me. I would have thought he would have spent most his time sitting in a ball in the corner." Felix let out a short laugh.
"Pride gets around. You think I would let a useless sack of bones live in my apartment?"
"I hadn't even realized we had mice in our office, until I found them at the front of the Generals door. He certainly knows whose butt to kiss." Felix started to scratch his cat underneath his chin, the animal soaking the attention in like a sponge. "But he seems happiest when he's around his master." Felix looked at when a slight grin on his face.
"You're a dog person aren't you?" She nodded her head. "That's what I thought. Your dog has a master. Cats don't have masters; they have servants. Maybe friends. The closest thing this cat does to work is catch a mouse or two a month. Other than that it sleeps, eats, and demands attention." That sounded about right, from the way he had behaved around the office. Perhaps that was why she wasn't a cat person.
"Why did you name it Pride?" When she first heard the name she had had to keep her hand from reaching up to her cheek. It seemed an odd name for an animal, especially this one. One would think 'Pity' would be a better way to describe it.
"Olivier never explained it? Hmm. Actually, that doesn't surprise me too much…
"Pride's name is Pride because Pride is my Pride."
I hope this chapter didn't totally lose your interest in this fic, because I really liked how this turned out. Especially after the last chapter.
Also: In the "Devil's Nest" chapters in the Manga, Martel was the one with the Hammer, right? It would make sense, really. Please, if you know, could you tell me?