TO BE KING: A FMAB ONESHOT
A/N: 57 reviews, 46 favourites and 81 followers and 6495 hits...I heart you guys! I adore you amazing muchkins! You are spoiling me to death!
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One more chappie for you...and see, I kept to my schedule!
Happy Tuesday!
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*/*/Nazrath/*/*
CHAPTER 11: NIGHTMARES
PRESENT DAY
MUSTANG'S CABIN
CENTRAL COMMAND, AMESTRIS
Roy sat up with a jerk, only to fall off the couch with a nasty bump. The sunlight was streaming though the window.
Man, I fell asleep on the couch of my own office.
He looked at his crumpled uniform with a grimace; it would be a job to explain Riza the state of his uniform. He could almost visualise her look of disapproval.
Sheesh Ed, the things you make me do, he mused.
He heard movement in the outer office and before he could get up from the couch, the door opened. Riza hustled in with a pile of files blocking her view. She strode purposefully towards his desk and placed them neatly on one side, arranged the other loose papers into a respectable pile and fixed them under the paperweight.
He watched her work, fascinated by the easy grace with which she moved.
Was she always this graceful?
She dusted away the bookshelves, arranged a couple of mementos and placed the photographs correctly. She picked up one of them and stared at it.
Roy craned his neck to see what photograph she was seeing.
It was the photograph taken the day he was promoted—him standing in the full military regalia along with Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Falman and of course her. Even Black Hayate was in the picture, sitting smartly on his haunches next to her, a Second Lieutenant badge hanging proudly from his collar. He couldn't see her expression completely but he could make out that she was smiling.
"See something you like?" Roy asked quietly.
Riza almost dropped the photograph.
"Sir?" she almost cried out. "I didn't see you...when did you come in?"
Roy gave a dry laugh. "I was here since yesterday. Fell asleep on duty."
Riza looked at him oddly, before her face relaxed into a smile.
"You are worried about Edward, aren't you?" she asked softly. Roy looked at his hands, his black hair hiding his obsidian eyes.
"Funny, isn't it? I am Brigadier General, high up in the Central brass, and yet I cannot find anything to cure my one subordinate."
Riza looked out of the window, watching the sunlight stream onto the parade grounds.
"Isn't it funny that you of all people are worried about him, sir?" she said, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
She turned to see Roy on his feet, his jacket on his arms. "Yes, Riza. It is funny."
WESTERN COMMAND
AMESTRIS
Al couldn't help but laugh at Breda's narration. Lieutenant...no, Major Hawkeye and Brigadier General Mustang never changed.
"But Lieutenant Breda, why did she clam up all of a sudden?" he asked, more curious now since he believed that the Major General did have a friendly side after all.
"I dunno...after she returned from Central, she locked herself in. For all purposes, we only saw her when Chief came here from Milos," said Breda, pulling out a squashed chocolate bar from his pocket.
"You mean Brother?" Al asked excitedly.
Breda nodded darkly. "Yes, Al. It was Ed."
N.A.Z.R.A.T.H.
THREE YEARS AGO
GUEST QUARTERS
PHOENIX PALACE, MILOS
"You have to leave, Ed. It is dangerous here," Julia concluded, still breathless with worry.
Ed frowned at the news, his hands resting between his knees as his brow scrunched up in thought.
"I don't get it—why is Creta so bothered about my research?" he asked, still unclear.
Julia shrugged, shaking her head. "I dunno, political pressure is what I can figure out. Creta is constructing a geothermal plant somewhere which is supposed have some parameters in the illegal realm. And they have an undue interest in you. Milos, at the end of the day, is just a nation-state. It is smaller than Central and certainly cannot hold its own in terms of military prowess if Creta declares war on us. We would be annihilated. So..."
Ed nodded, getting her point.
He patted her shoulder gently as he walked up to the window. The afternoon sun shone brightly, bleaching off the colours from the landscape.
"Thanks for the warning, Julia. I appreciate it," he said softly. He heard a muted sob, making him turn.
Julia rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, leaving telltale signs of redness in them.
"I am so sorry, Ed!" she wailed. "You have helped us so much...and this is the way we repay you!"
Ed shuffled his feet, looking a little uncomfortable. He always felt confused when someone cried.
"It's not your fault, Julia. You are looking after your people...and this is the best course of action. A King's foremost responsibility is to his people," Ed closed his eyes as an image of a certain slant-eyed Xingese king floated into his mind. "If you didn't protect your people, you don't deserve the mantle."
Julia gave him a watery smile, letting the blond relax a little.
"Even at such high stakes, you sought me out to warn—I am honoured, Julia. And I am glad that I have a friend like you," he added, a grateful smile on his lips.
She got back up on her feet and walked up to the door. "The East Gate guards change at seven pm. There's always a five minute window when no one guards the gate."
She turned around, her teal eyes shining brightly. "Be safe, Ed."
WAXTORIA BAR
WEST CITY, AMESTRIS
Rei had no idea what she was doing in the seediest of establishments in a disguise of a hooker of all things. She was clad in a black, rather revealing crop top with a red sheer jacket and a black miniskirt that barely concealed her butt. Thigh-high net stockings and three inch silver stilettos completed her ensemble. She was glad for the wig—she hoped no one would conclude that a Brigadier-General hid under the shocking pink bob and behind the grey contacts. Though the smokey eye-liner and blood-red lips did hide her true identity, she couldn't help but feel exposed.
And as men leered at her, she couldn't help but control the itch to draw a transmutation circle and blow their heads off.
And why was she here?
Just because Roy had an information broker here.
Go figure.
"A prim and classy girl will stick out like a sore thumb there. Dress appropriately," he had smirked.
That bastard! She longed to go back and wipe that smirk off his smug face.
But he had a point. No girl, or any human being in their right mind would come here and expect a civilised, legal entertainment. If anything, the bar was a crossroads for smugglers, murderers, blackmailers, hookers—anyone on the shady side of law could be seen here.
She sipped the cocktail and controlled the urge to spit it—it was horrible. It tasted more of the alcohol and next to none of the lime and orange that were supposed to present in it.
She checked her watch. It was already nine.
The info broker was getting late.
She was hungry—she had dashed home straight from the station, got dressed in the outfit Riza had picked up for her and had come here.
How she longed for a roast chicken, stew and a bed!
She felt some occupy the seat next to her on the bar—she swivelled on the stool to find herself face-to-face with a man.
He was clad in a black singlet, grey shorts and blue strap-on sandals. His brown hair was slightly long and hung loosely about his face, the bangs obscuring his chestnut eyes. He looked as someone who ran the tracks everyday—lean but muscular. His nose was straight and sharp, chin strong and determined and high cheekbones.
At present, his lips were curved up in a mocking grimace.
"If I had known the Colonel wanted me to see you, I would have turned tail," he laughed humorlessly, catching Rei offguard.
She cocked her head to one side, puzzled.
"How do you know who I am?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.
The man gave another mirthless laugh. "Lies, deception, concealment—they have no effect on me. The name's Travis Baker. I used to work as a research assistant under Dr. Marcoh before he skipped out of the military. And also," he turned to expose the back of his left shoulder.
Rei gasped, clapping her hands to her mouth in horror.
Even in the flickering dim lights of the pub, she could make out the etching.
It was an Ouraboros tatoo.
MILOS-AMESTRIS BORDER
AMESTRIS
Ed hated the desert. It was so easy to get lost in the unending, similar looking mounds of sand.
Skipping out of the East Gate was easy—Julia was right about the five-minute theory. It was as easy as strolling in a park.
He was glad he had deciphered most of Flamel's research—and the rest of the pages he just brought with him. They had been collecting dust for some four hundred years now, he was sure no one's going to miss them all of a sudden. But that along with another tome from the palace library not to mention the extensive notebooks he had smuggled from the records department had increased the weight of his suitcase exponentially—but he didn't care.
He needed them, otherwise his trip to Milos was all for naught.
And he had to reach West City before the Milosian brass realised he was missing. Julia had given him a forty-eight hour window to make it to the Western Command before all hell broke loose.
He just hoped they wouldn't bother to check the records—it was akin to stealing state secrets after all.
He cringed. He wasn't stealing them, he had every intention of returning them safely. So that meant he was borrowing the notes, right?
He sighed as he ploughed on. At least the moon shone brightly, helping him keep track of the direction.
The watch showed that it was almost midnight—his feet ached and his automail was clogged with sand, but he wanted to get to a town as soon as possible. He didn't fancy walking on the sand during daytime.
However unlikely he sounded, he could swear that the suitcase was gaining weight by the second, threatening to pull his right arm out of the socket. He walked ahead relentlessly...one more step...one more...
Without warning, a thundering pain shot up the left side of his chest. The suitcase fell with a light thwump on the sand due to his slackened grip.
He dropped to his knees as another wave of pain racked through his entire body...he felt as if someone had pierced a serrated knife into his heart and was slowly turning it inside. His fingers scabbled over it...anything to make it stop...
Not now...not here...not when he almost had the answer...
Not in the middle of nowhere...
He couldn't die here...not now...not when Al was back...not when everything was back to normal...
As he fell face-first on the stone cold sand, he could just whisper a curse to his grinning white nemesis before he slipped into oblivion.
21B, CAMELOT APARTMENTS
WEST CITY, AMESTRIS
Rei was shocked.
She was stunned.
Flabbergasted. Astounded. Bewildered. Flummoxed.
And she was running out of adjectives.
It was her home, yet it couldn't feel anymore hostile at the moment. Especially when the origin of all the confusion sat on her sofa nonchalantly, his right leg crossed over his left as he looked around the apartment with genuine curiosity.
"Nice pad, General," he remarked finally.
Rei had shed her wig and contacts and draped on her military-issue coat over her rather risque clothes at the first opportunity. Then she went to the bathroom and washed away her make-up, leaving behind a rather pale face and slightly dimmed pair of eyes.
"You." She pointed at his languid figure. "You are a Homunculus."
Travis nodded.
"The last one. The eighth Homunculus. But I wasn't perfect...I didn't meet their standards as such so I was weeded out. But Dr. Marcoh managed to fudge up some documents and helped me escape. Now, I am just a car mechanic working at the highway garage apart from chipping in as an info broker."
Rei sat down on the armchair. "Does Roy know about you?"
Travis shook his head. "No one knows...Dr. Marcoh rescued me, but he doesn't know my present identity. Think of it as an unlikely yet currently occurring coincidence."
Rei stared at him, not believing her eyes.
"You are an honest-to-God Homunculus sitting in front of me and toting the tattoo to boot and you are telling me that you had nothing to do with the Promised Day and other goddamn trouble involving you guys?" she almost shrieked.
Travis held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I know where you are coming from and the situation doesn't make me look trustworthy...but yeah, I was sitting put like a good boy and repairing cars since Ishbal. I am just your nextdoor immortal car-mechanic."
Rei gasped. "You are immortal?" she exclaimed, though her voice dropped a couple of notches.
"Comes with the thing...Homunculus are supposed to be immortal. But I self-heal only small wounds. Thrust in a knife and I am as good as dead. My core is made of Red Water, the predecessor of the Philosopher's Stone—and it's not that hardy," he shrugged.
Rei couldn't believe what was happening. The guy she had been hunting for—was sitting in front of her on her freaking sofa!
"Travis...what sort of Homunculus are you? As far as I know, they had names of the Seven Sins," she said.
Travis looked a bit amused, though the amusement didn't reach his eyes.
"I was code-named Rage—I could see through disguises, deception, lies...stuff like that. But I wasn't as powerful as the others. And I had a bit of conscience. I wanted out...but Father made it sure that you just don't hand in your resignation; it's lifetime service or death."
He got up and walked to the wall, examining a landscape painting as he continued. "I was created before Ishbal—before those people got the idea of mass sacrifices. Though Father wasn't much keen on this path of research—he created a country to aid the transmutation for crying out loud. But some of the docs were in for the knowledge thing—wanted to substitute the human sacrifice thing. They came up with Red Water—a weak substitute for the stone. It was said that only I made it out alive."
He turned around to see Rei looking at him, transfixed.
"If you don't mind, could I get some water? Parched throat," he said, sounding apologetic as he pointed his throat with a finger.
She nodded, jumping on her feet as she hurried into the kitchen. Moments later, she came back with a glass filled to the brim in one hand while a jug in the other.
He chugged down the water gratefully before continuing. "Dr. Marcoh realised that I was soon on the removal list so he got me out here to the West. It was least affected by the Ishbal uprising and thus was safe. I still remember the military chaos though—everyone who was posted in Western Command at that time had no wish to be deployed to the East. I take it you were in Ishbal too?"
Rei nodded as she resumed her seat on the couch. "It was hell on earth," she whispered.
He replaced the glass on the coffee table as he sat down back on the sofa.
"Technically, I don't have to eat though my body requires water to survive. One of the many shortcomings that gold-toothed bastard happily spouted off when proving my unworthiness to Father." He grimaced at some long-lost memory.
Rei couldn't help but sympathise with him.
"How did you eke out a living? I mean, it's been a long time since Ishbal...surely people have noticed that you don't age?" she asked curiously.
He smirked at her question. "I skipped around the entire Western Province...Pendleton, Harkshaw, Lamiscare, Selaton...in fact, I know this province like the back of my hand. Two years per city before I leave for good. Hence, I have remained safe. Not to mention the fact that a Xingese kid taught me the merits of Dragon Pulse a few years ago—I can hide my aura from the Homunculi at least, though a well-trained alkahestrist can easily find me."
His smirk reduced to a grimace as he stared at his hands. "Not ageing isn't a utopian concept, you know," he said softly.
He lifted his eyes to see a pair of blazing amber orbs. "Fire away, Brigadier-General," he said, a bit more strongly.
Rei composed her face to look more like the one her subordinates were accustomed to see—a cool, calculating visage that could say the most chilling of news with a straight, unwavering voice.
"The first question...how on earth can you move around with the tattoo visible like that?" she burst out. To her surprise, the burning question was met with a chuckle.
"That Ouraboros thing? Sheesh General, you should know your city better. There's a cult gang running loose in the streets—harmless from the legal point of view but a parent's nightmare all the same. They chose this symbol after the Promised Day fiasco...apparently it was supposed to be cool. Whatever the reason, I am glad. I hated to wear stuffy shirts in this blistering weather."
Rei relaxed slightly. "Roy told me you had info. Care to tell?"
Travis grinned. "Now you are talking."
A/N: *shields herself* no no, I did not kill off our chibi alchemist! He's alive three years later, people!
I am excited! With this, the last of my OCs are introduced-the ones slated to play a role in the next half. Should I ship Rei and Travis together? Can see a plot bunny here.
OMG! OMG! Another Homunculi! Hell, why am I screaming-I kind of created him, didn't I? *evil laughs*
Cutiepie120048: Wyaah! Seriously?! But thanks though...I gotta go back and do the edits...it's gonna be a piece of work-I can feel it..*sigh*
The next chapter is gonna be a heavyweight one as it will mark the end of the first half along with the fact that it's gonna answer some tough questions...
Any omake requests? I am all ears!
Till next time, folks!