All Capricia-bashing is welcome!!
This may have won over chapter 4 as the most fun chapter to write!! Hopefully you all will enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed thinking it up and actually writing it!!
Chapter 10
Signora Katarina Giuseppe had loyally worked for Andre de Martigue for years with the diligence and patience of a veteran housekeeper. She was in charge of making sure that everything, absolutely everything was taken care of while Signore Martigue was away. She was always on top of things, flawlessly dealing with every crisis that arose and making absolutely certain that everything went smoothly at all parties and events that either Signore Martigue or Signorina Vitorioni threw. She had everything running perfectly so that the food was always out and ready, and that it was never running low so that everyone could take as much as they desired. She made sure that the drinks were always stocked and accounted for, and that everyone who wanted a glass could have one, or so that they could even have more than one if they so wanted. She made sure that the cleaning staff was always at work, and that the entire villa was immaculately clear of any particle of dust that could threat the integrity of her reputation. She always had the gardeners tending to the garden, keeping the grounds free of weeds and other assorted pests. Most importantly perhaps, she made sure that the fifteen guest rooms were always kept tidy, ready for immediate use. Everything in them was always in order without a second glance. Signora Giuseppe made certain of that, and the guests were always grateful.
Nothing, however, not all of her years of service, nor any of her prior training had ever prepared her for the maelstrom that was Signore Martigue's newest guest. Now, she had never actually experienced his rage first hand, but watching what the various soldiers who moved in and out of his rooms had to go through, she knew that she never wanted to be on the receiving end of that temper. More than once she had happened by the doors to see some unfortunate German come backpedaling out into the hallway, ducking out of range of a vase that narrowly missed his head. Of course, Signora Giuseppe always inwardly winced at the sight of such a valuable object being so carelessly shattered, but she would just sigh and order Maria to get the dustpan and broom. On other occasions, she had walked past the door and had caught an earful of the young man's shouting, and his language made her gape in dismay. Whenever she dealt with him herself, he was curtly polite to her, showing some signs of good upbringing, but she knew that whenever one of Signore Martigue's men had to brave the odds and enter the room, the young man was like a wild animal in a cage, tearing about the room in an unbridled fury, spitting out a venomous stream of ire from a surprisingly foul mouth.
And so, when the occasion finally arose and Signora Giuseppe found herself being the bearer of bad news—she was to go and tell the young man that Signore Martigue wished to see him, and that name alone could send him into such a fit—she could only gulp in fear. She stared past the staircase at those deceptively innocuous doors for a long, long moment, and then took a deep breath, gathering up her skirts and her courage, and moved up the stairs with the determined stride of a warrior heading for what might be his last battlefield. When she finally reached the top landing, she had to pause and catch her breath. She was getting on in her years, and the steps always seemed to get longer every time she climbed them. When all of her wind was finally back, she moved over to the doors and knocked on the right hand door; three sharp, polite raps.
"Signore," she called through the door. "I am coming in."
She didn't hear a response, but she screwed up her courage anyway and moved forward, twisting the handle and swinging the door wide. She looked around the room, frowning slightly as she realized the young man was nowhere in sight.
"Signore?" she called. He wasn't in the bathroom; the door to that room was wide open and everything in plain view. She moved over to the bedroom and knocked on the door.
"Signore?" she asked. "Are you awake?"
No answer. Thinking he was just asleep, she grabbed the handle and moved inside the room, freezing in shock as she beheld the sight on the other side.
The young man was nowhere to be found, but he left an obvious trail in his wake. Tied tightly to the back left post of the four poster bed was a bed sheet that extended across the room to the window where it was knotted to another bed sheet. The makeshift rope extended out the window, and it shivered slightly, pulled taut by some unseen weight. She could very well guess what the source of that weight was.
"Caro Dio!!" Signora Giuseppe exclaimed, springing over to the window and sticking her head out. She looked straight down and was not terribly surprised to find Signore Martigue's young guest dangling on the lower end of the bed sheet rope, expertly rappelling down the side of the villa wall.
"Signore!!" she shouted down to him, catching his attention. He froze and looked up at her, his shockingly golden eyes wide with astonishment.
"Signore!! Stop!!" she continued, trying to dissuade him from his current course of action. What was he doing? Didn't he know that he could get hurt doing that? And what kind of person randomly climbed out of windows with bed sheets?
"Crap!" she dimly heard him exclaim, and he doubled his efforts to slide down the building, moving more rapidly. Signora Giuseppe waved her arms frantically, at a loss, until she turned back to the front doors of the room and shouted for the guards. Instantly, the two Germans ran in through the doors and came to her side. They took one look at the makeshift rope and didn't need an explanation, one dashing out of the room and the other leaning far out the window and grabbing the top of the bed sheets, trying to pull the young man back up. The young man was not to be deterred, it seemed, because he put his feet to the wall and, releasing the cotton cord, he pushed out and back flipped out into the air, dropping the last seven feet in a graceful, breathtaking arc. He somersaulted a few steps to play out his momentum and lessen the impact before rising to his feet and taking off in a dead run towards the courtyard.
"Damn!" the German soldier at Signora Giuseppe's side exclaimed, and he turned and hightailed it out of the room just as the woman saw about fifteen soldiers go racing across the lawn in pursuit of the young man.
"What is going on?" she wondered under her breath, and she hurried out of the room to the rail across the landing from the doors, leaning over it and catching sight of Signorina Vitorioni coming out to meet the soldier who had last left the room.
"What's going on?" she demanded, in a tone that was quite clearly displeased.
"Elric has escaped."
"What?? How??"
"Out the window. He's probably heading for the walls on the far side, hoping to lose the men in the courtyard."
Signorina Vitorioni gestured wildly to someone beyond Signora Giuseppe's view.
"Go after him!! Now!!"
Ten more soldiers ran out of the villa's front doors, eager to obey her commands. Up above, Maria joined Signora Giuseppe at the rail.
"What's going on?" she whispered softly so as not to be heard.
"Signore Martigue's young guest has escaped," Signora Giuseppe replied, not entirely sure what that really meant. Why would a guest escape? Perhaps the young man was mad. That would certainly explain his irrational behavior. Maria, however, seemed to understand the deeper meaning to Signora Giuseppe's words and clenched one of her fists in victory.
Run fast, Edward, she thought to herself.
"Maria?" Signora Giuseppe asked. "What in the world is going on?"
"I'll explain later," Maria promised, grabbing the older woman's hand. "Let's get away from here."
She led the old woman down the hall away from the main stairwell, heading for the servants' stairs.
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Hearing the commotion outside the window of his study, Martigue rose from his chair, placing the book he had been reading down on the chair behind him. He moved out into the main foyer of the villa, coming up beside Capricia.
"What's going on?"
Capricia turned to him in surprise.
"Andre! I didn't expect that you would come out of your study this time of day!"
Martigue eyed the woman, his keen amber eyes detecting her nervousness.
"Capricia…" he said warningly, reminding her that he did not enjoy playing games. She gave in.
"It would seem that young Edward has escaped."
To the woman's surprise, Martigue did not get angry. He did quite the opposite in fact; he grinned boyishly.
"Oh, he did, did he?" he asked, and he sounded rather excited by the prospect. "Did he use the old bed-sheet-out-the-window routine?"
Capricia balked at the man's lack of concern.
"Andre!" she cried incredulously. "If he gets away, your entire plan is shot!"
"Oh, I know, but I'm not worried. He won't get far."
She eyed the Frenchman warily.
"You sound as if you expected him to try this."
"Actually, my dear, I will say that I am a bit surprised. I was wondering how long it would be until he tried to escape, and I was sure it would have been sooner. It's a good thing I didn't wager money on that."
"Andre…everything is at stake here! If that boy is successful—!"
She broke off her sentence when one of the Nazi soldiers came back in through the front door.
"It's alright," he proclaimed proudly. "Everything is under control."
Another Nazi—a rather large man who had clearly been experimenting with the new body building drugs—entered in behind him, one very irate Edward Elric tucked tightly under one arm. The young man kicked, squirmed, and twisted his body, pounding his fists into the man's lower back and yelling a string of obscenities so foul that it would make even a drunken Scotsman blush. However, caught as he was at an extremely awkward angle—tucked against the man's hip with an iron grip fastened around his waist—his efforts were in vain and the blows he managed to land had little to no effect on the large man.
"Ah," Martigue said, stepping forward and smirking. "Good work as always, Franz."
The large Nazi merely grunted in acknowledgement and took a second to readjust his grip.
"Mien heir," he said, his voice deep and booming, his German accent smothering his words like molasses, "It would probably be best if I took him upstairs. He's itching for a fight right now, and when his feet are on the ground, he fights better than a wounded tiger in a corner."
"When his feet are on the ground?" Capricia interjected, raising an eyebrow at the curious phrase.
"Yes, frauline," the man replied, nonplussed by the interruption. "As long as his feet aren't on the ground, he can't seem to put up much of a fight." He gestured towards the struggling bundle of temper and swearing under his arm. "It's just a lot of ineffectual squirming and yelling. However, I think its best that we take him upstairs and let him cool off before you have to deal with him."
"I agree, Franz," Martigue said. "Go ahead and take him upstairs, and you four can accompany Franz."
The four men saluted and they followed Franz up the stairs, staying at a distance so as not to get within range of the incensed blonde's fists. Edward, meanwhile, continued to spit out a steady stream of furious cursing and protests, trying to grab the railing on the stairwell in a vain attempt to stop his captor's momentum, but he could never quite get a good grip and Franz was simply too strong to stop. Martigue, meanwhile, turned to four other soldiers.
"Why don't you four get together a team and board up the windows to Monsieur Elric's room, hm?"
The four men saluted and headed away, grabbing six other men on their way and finding the necessary tools to carry out the work.
Martigue turned to Capricia.
"And you were worried," he said in a tone that was clearly mocking. Capricia glared.
"You should have told me you had a back up plan."
"Capricia…dear, sweet, beautiful Capricia…this is why I am the one in charge and you are not."
He walked away, never noticing the daggers Capricia's brilliant green eyes were throwing into his back.
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Edward pounded furiously on the bathroom door, his dangerously boiling rage overflowing.
"Let me out of here, you bastards!!!" he shouted, pulling on the handle with all his strength. He was simply far outmatched by the ridiculously strong Franz who held the doorknob on the other side, keeping the door firmly shut without any trouble. Edward resumed to pounding uselessly on the door.
"You can't keep me in here, dammit!!! Let me out!!!"
"Not until you calm down, mien heir," Franz replied, seemingly at ease with the entire situation.
"I will not calm down, dammit!!! Let me the hell out of here!!"
"If you will not calm down, mien heir, I will have no choice but to keep you in there until you do."
"Bastard!!! Let me out of here right now, or you will be in for a world of hurt!!!"
"There is no need to so angry, mien heir. Just calm down and we will let you out."
Edward almost screamed in frustration, clutching at the sides of his head, his temper running so high that he couldn't even see straight past the haze of red. He spun around and circle-kicked the door, which of course had no effect other than to send painful shivers up the automail into his thigh. He grimaced and hopped away, gripping his leg, and the pain helped him to think a little clearer. He looked around the room for a moment, and his eyes alighted on the porcelain washbasin on the other side of the toilet. He walked over to it, realizing that it wasn't attached to its metal stand, and he hefted the object, testing its weight. It was pretty heavy, probably weighing at least 50 pounds.
"Mien heir…are you going to behave yourself now?"
Edward looked over to the door and then back at the washbasin thoughtfully, a wicked grin forming across his face seconds later.
"I'm coming in, mien heir," Franz told him, and the big man hesitated for only a second before pushing in the door and walking in. He looked around in surprise when he didn't immediately see Edward, until he realized that the washbasin was missing. He started to turn to the left when Edward dropped the basin on the man's head, practically throwing it so that it broke into four pieces when it collided with the man's skull. A thoroughly satisfied grin on his face, Edward leaped down off the toilet seat and ran out of the bathroom, ducking low as one of the four other men in the room made a grab for him. He spun on the side of his ankle and took the man's legs out from under him, and then, never leaving his crouch, flipped onto his back and planted both feet firmly into the solar plexus of the second man. As the man fell away, he snapped his body like a whip and jumped straight to his feet, setting himself into a defensive stance that was ready to meet the onslaught of the third man and fourth man.
The two men looked at each other, shocked by the sheer viciousness of the young man's fighting style, but then they nodded and went forward together, both grabbing for him at the same time. They caught nothing but air as the youth ducked low again, balancing easily on his hands and kicking out with his feet to either side. He caught the man on his left in the knee and the man lurched back, howling in pain, but the man on his right had jumped back well out of range, expecting the move. Edward tucked his legs back together and brought them straight back over his head, back flipping away from the man's hands again. He ran over and ducked behind the two red velvet chairs, grabbing the lamp and throwing it at the man, who instinctively ducked, giving Edward the opportunity to scurry over to the table across the way and grab one of the two little pudgy porcelain cherubs sitting there. When the man turned to face him, he had to duck again in order to keep the normally innocent projectile from crashing against his skull. Edward grabbed the other one and threw that, following it quickly with the heavy china plate the two cherubs had been resting on. Both objects shattered against the wall, harmless objects once more. The Nazi facing him grinned wickedly, knowing that he had the advantage of strength and size and that Edward was fresh out of missiles.
At that moment, the first Nazi Edward had tripped rose up and lurched forward towards the young man, but Edward put his foot against the table and shoved it forward into the man's gut. The fourth man facing him took that moment to run forward and attempt to tackle him, but Edward was too smart for that, grabbing the wooden chair and brandishing it before him like a lion tamer. He kept it, and the man, in front of him and turned his back towards the door, backing up slowly towards it. When his back rested against it, he threw the chair with all his might and wheeled around, grabbing for the door handles, and realizing a moment too late that the sneaky bastards had locked the door. Before he could begin to unlock the door, the fourth man locked his arm around Edward's throat and dragged him backwards away from the door. At a disadvantage and having no desire to crush his own windpipe, Edward went with the man, hands flying up to grip the arm and he bent at the waist, pulling the man up over his back and throwing him into the two red chairs. The threat to his back seemingly neutralized, Edward ran for the doors again, but was once again deterred by two of the men who had recovered enough to get in front of the door. They raced at him, grabbing him firmly by the arms, and they kept going, heading straight into the bedroom, disappearing from view.
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A half an hour later, when the commotion seemed to have died down enough to brave entry, Maria slipped into the room, on her way to deliver a message. She paused in shock at the sight of the normally perfect rooms in such a state of disarray, the two red velvet chairs virtually destroyed, the stuffing spewing out of them from all angles and the back of one cleanly broken off. Several porcelain objects rested on the floor along with a very valuable lamp and one of the wooden chairs from the table had three of its four legs broken free. The five Nazis sat around on the remaining furniture, Franz holding a wet cloth against the top of his head while another had a blood-soaked hand towel wrapped around his forearm. Maria crunched her way over to them.
"What in the world happened?" she asked, completely astonished by the mess.
"Our young friend tried another daring escape," Franz explained. "We had him trapped in the bathroom but he tricked me into opening the door and dropped the washbasin on my head."
Maria looked at the man nursing the arm wound.
"What happened to you?" she asked, wondering just how violent the fight had been.
"He bit me," the man spat out, clearly suffering from a bruised pride as well as his more obvious injury. "Little bastard nearly took a chunk out of my arm!"
Maria looked around.
"Where is he now?"
The men all pointed wordlessly to the bedroom, and Maria eyed the door warily before moving over to it.
The young man was quite a sight to behold when she opened the door. The men had trapped Edward in a position from which he would most likely have to be Houdini to escape from. They had placed him upon on a stool, and had used the various blankets lying about to bind him up. One sheet was wrapped securely about the young man's torso, trapping his arms tightly to either side of his body, and it looked as if he were wearing one of the jackets given to mental patients. Another blanket had been wrapped tightly around his legs, covering him from knee to ankle, and a third had been twisted tightly into a cord and fastened three times around his waist, tying him firmly to the bedpost behind him. Edward only glowered at Maria, squirming uncomfortably in a vain effort to free himself from the all-entrapping blankets. She blinked at him a few times before she backed out of the room and looked at the five Nazis.
"How long has he been there?" she asked, numb with surprise.
"Oh…about a half an hour or so," Franz answered, and from his tone it was clear to the girl that they had no intention of releasing the young man anytime soon.
"And how long are you planning on keeping him there?"
"Until he decides to behave himself."
There was absolutely no compromise in the eyes of the five men.
"Well, Signore Martigue wants to see him."
"When?"
"Now."
The four men all looked at Franz who sighed tiredly and rose to his feet. He moved past the young girl and went into the bedroom, standing a good distance away from the young man and putting his hands on his hips. Edward glared up at him so scathingly that, if looks could kill, his definitely would have done the deed.
"Alright, you rabid little mongrel," Franz said, his tone clearly irritated. "The boss wants to see you. Are you going to behave yourself?"
Edward didn't answer, just steadily glowered at the man. Franz crossed his arms.
"You better be good, because if you can't behave, you're going right back onto that pole. You hear me? Right back. And you'll stay there until you can behave yourself."
Edward stayed silent, promising nothing, but Franz moved forward anyway, kneeling down and reaching for the knot in the blanket securing Edward to the pole. Just as his hand was about to come into contact with the tie, the wild gleam returned to Edward's golden eyes, and he snapped his teeth at Franz's arm, forcing the man to yank his hand away.
"Hey!" Franz said, pointing a finger threateningly in Edward's face. "No biting!"
The look on Edward's face showed that he clearly didn't care what Franz would do to him, because he lifted both of his legs, swinging them up towards the man's side. Franz grabbed his ankles and forced his legs back down, keeping his gaze locked steadily with Edward's.
"And no kicking! If you won't behave, you'll stay right there until you can, you little brat!!"
Edward clearly wasn't happy, but he relented, and Franz reached up carefully for the knot in the blankets. When Edward made no moves against, he quickly untied the youth, freeing him from the blankets completely. Franz moved away from him, pulling out his gun and pointing it at the young man, who quietly rose to his feet and started forward. Franz moved out of the room and let the young man move past him, grabbing him by the arm and gesturing for the two less injured men to lead while the others would follow.
"Come," he said, and the two men rose to their feet, also drawing their pistols. Franz released Edward's arm and gestured that he should go first, and Edward did, stopping only so that the man to his left could open the door for him and for Maria, who was walking at his side. He moved out into the hallway, pausing when Franz grabbed the back of his shirt to pull him back a step, letting two other men move out before the young man with their P08 Parabellum handguns drawn. Once they were past him, Franz released him, and Edward started down the steps, feeling Franz's pistol at his back the whole way. Maria looked over at him questioning, but he didn't say anything, didn't even meet her gaze.
A few minutes later, they reached the bottom of the stairwell and Edward stopped. The five Nazis stared at him in surprise, each moving back a cautious distance from him. For a moment, he said nothing, but he gave Maria a furtive glance, and she moved away to the side, acting as if she were moving off to dust off a vase. Franz stepped up to him then, jabbing him in the right arm with his gun, never noticing the lack of give under the barrel's pressure.
"Keep moving!" he ordered, now in no mood to play any games. Edward tilted his head up at the man and smiled disarmingly, and Franz pulled his gun back, thinking that perhaps the young man was a bit lightheaded from the blows to his head and had just needed a pause to clear his head. He saw that dangerous gleam return to the youth's eyes a moment too late, and was thusly unable to block Edward's foot from crushing his groin. With a high pitched gurgle, Franz grabbed his injury and crumpled, and Edward's foot dropped back to the ground.
"That was for calling me little!!!" he spat. Without even looking behind him, he jabbed his metal elbow into the stomach of the man approaching from the right, and then turned swiftly on his heel to smash his fist into the nose of the man on the left. The other two men raised their guns, one shouting for backup, when Maria cracked the vase she was holding right over the head of the man on Edward's left. As the man fell away, Edward approached the other man, every muscle in his compact frame twitching in anticipation of gunfire. As fifteen men ran into the foyer, Edward kicked the gun out of the man's hand and then kicked the man sharply in the face. He ran past the falling body and grabbed Maria's hand, taking off towards the back of the villa, trying to get away from the pursuing Nazis. He started to turn right down the hallway, when Maria pulled in the opposite direction.
"This way!" she explained, and Edward followed the pull of her hand, trusting her. They ran down the hallway as fast as they could, ignoring the shouts of the men behind them, and Maria slammed through the swinging door into the kitchen beyond.
The Nazis were too well prepared, because ten of them were waiting to meet the two. Edward grabbed for the carving knifes beside him, but froze when the man in the front of the ten before them fired a warning shot mere centimeters from his face. Desperately, he and Maria wheeled as one for the doors behind them, but the fifteen pursuing Nazis were there to meet them. Boxed in, Edward gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. Suddenly, a miraculously recovered and extremely enraged Franz broke through to the front of the group blocking the hallway.
"You should have behaved yourself, mien heir," he said, voice low and threatening, and he pulled a length of rope off of his belt. Holding it out between his hands, he approached with ominously echoing footsteps.
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Martigue looked up from the chess board before him in mild amusement as Edward and Maria were thrust into the study, hands bound tightly behind their backs.
"Ah, monsieur, so good of you to finally show up," he said, completely nonchalant as he returned his gaze to the chess board and moved a pawn. Edward could see that someone sat in the high backed chair facing Martigue, their back to him.
"So sorry to keep you waiting," Edward bit back, full to the brim of spite and fire. "I was a little preoccupied."
"Don't worry yourself," Martigue said, following Edward's lead as if he didn't notice the sarcasm rolling off the young man's tongue. He watched as the person across from him moved in and captured one of his pawns. "I merely passed the time with my good friend, Vergil."
He smiled at the mysterious person across the way and nodded.
"Vergil says he knows you very well, monsieur, and he has been telling me many interesting things about you."
As Martigue spoke the words, the man named Vergil rose from his seat, turning around and facing Edward, smiling and sliding his hands into his pockets.
Edward's eyes flew wide. No…it wasn't possible…
Everyone from his world had a counterpart here in this one, so maybe that was the case here. And yet…just his stance, the look in his eyes, even the way he smiled was so overwhelmingly familiar that for a second he could almost believe that it was him. The face certainly wasn't the same; the man who stood before Edward had shoulder length, dark gold hair that appeared tamed and wild all at once; his eyes were a dark brownish-gold that had that particular gleam to them; all in all…he looked either exactly like a younger version of Hohenheim or an older version of Edward. But…it couldn't be…it just wasn't…
"Hello, Edward," the man said, voice deep and silky smooth. It wasn't the same voice, but the words carried the same inflections, accenting them in almost exactly the same way, that it could easily...but no! That was impossible! …wasn't it?
"It's been a long time," the man continued. "I know I've changed quite a bit since the last time we saw each other, but surely you remember me, don't you?"
Edward went cold to the bone. Oh, he had tried, but that was a face that he would never forget for as long as he lived, a face so similar to his own that it was like looking through a mirror to the future. He knew it now, but his mind was still having a tough time really accepting it as truth.
"Why, monsieur, whatever is the matter?" Martigue asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
The man who called himself Vergil only smirked wickedly and turned to throw the smile over his shoulder to the Frenchman.
"Oh, it's alright, I'm sure. I think he's just so shocked to see me again after all these years."
He turned back to Edward, and the smile was unmistakably his.
"Aren't you," he said, pausing dramatically before adding, "…little brother?"
Edward almost fainted right there and part of him wanted to if only to escape from accepting that any of this could really be happening to him. Finally, he found his voice, but the words came out in an almost inaudible whisper.
"Envy…"
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Dun dun DUN!!!!
( insert evil kitty grin here ) MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! I LEAVE YOU IN SUSPENSE!!! I AM EEEEEEEEEEEVIL!!
(calms, sweatdrops) Eheh…sorry about that…I've got a lot of sugar pumping through me right now, so I'm a little zany. Anyways…answers to come later!!
Please review!!