AN: THANK YOU to anyone who reviewed and/or answered my question, here is the list with your suggestions: cat, rabbit, dog, kangaroo, horse, black panther and monkey. I hope that I didn't forget anyone. And the answer is "drums rolling": wolf. Only one person guessed right – good job Hiei098! I'm giving you a brief description:
Wolf
– (lat . Canis Lupus) The gray wolf, also known as timber
wolf or wolf, is the largest wild member of the Canidae family. It
shares a common ancestry with the domestic dog and might be its
ancestor.Once
abundant in many habitats over the world, the gray wolf inhabits only
a small portion of its former range due to the destruction of its
habitat and human-wolf encounters that sparked broad extirpation.
While protected in some areas they can be hunted for sport in others
where are perceived as threats to livestock and pets.
Build for
stamina, it possesses features ideal for long-distance travel.The wolf
is a social animal that lives in a pack, with a strict hierarchical
order, where only the alpha pair, mated for life, can breed.
Opportunistic hunter a grown wolf needs 1.1 kg (2.5 lb) of meat per
day for sustenance. As an interesting fact: in some states people can
receive permits to raise wolfs, however one of the requirements are
fences at least 2 m (6.56 ft) high to prevent escaping.
In
mythology and fairytales they are seen as the villain (Little Red
Riding Hood) the cause of death for gods (the giant wolf Fenrir from
Norse Mythology) but also as unexpected saviors (The legend of
Romulus and Remus of how Rome was created.) – source Wikipedia
Beta: UraharaFangirl90. Thank you for hunting down my mistakes. "big smile"
WARNING: Swearing, violence and mention of disturbing imagery and situation. That sums it all.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Fullmetal Alchemist universe/manga/anime, except for this insane plot, so please don't sue!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once again silence descended on the other side of the telephone.
Remember? How can you remember something that you never had the luxury to forget?
Even now, years after, the dingy old room haunted his dreams, always in the back of his mind, a remainder of how much he had fallen. The half empty bottle of cheap whisky that smelled as badly as it tasted, the rotting, days old food sitting untouched on the counter, the simple black revolver in front of him, shinning dully in the harsh electric light coming from a single, anemic light bulb. The attempt to end it all, only to cowardly retreat before it was too late as the feel of something cold, metallic, and alien scraping his teeth sent him retching in a corner, too weak and drunk to make it to the bathroom.
It had been the lowest point of his life when, with a shaking hand, he had lifted the gun to his temple – how fitting that the Flame Alchemist should die by a firearm – and had stood there, uncertain, shallow breaths doing nothing to dispel his growing panic, only a trigger away from escaping the demons plaguing his mind. He might have even found the courage to do it, if the powerful rap against the door – sounding as loud as a gunshot – hadn't shaken him from the self-induced hypnosis.
In that moment, when Roy had stood undecided – to open the door or to ignore it – it was Maes that had taken away his choice. Shaking the closed door and loudly calling the alchemist's name, he had refused to let himself be ignored, forcing Roy to react. And that was the start, which eventually pushed him on the path that he faithfully walked from that day forward, never forgetting the one that gave him the initial push.
Weak legs no longer supporting his upright position, Roy fell into his chair, the receiver almost falling from his slack hands. There was only one person that knew of that day, the details having been pried out of him in endless conversations. Only one person that truly knew the impact that November the first still had on his life and to hear it mention on the phone was the only evidence Roy needed.
His friend was alive.
With a shaking hand, he placed the receiver at his ear once again and with a suddenly dry mouth he uttered a disbelieving "Maes?"
"Yes, Roy. It's me." A relieved sigh could be clearly heard from the other side.
"How…? What…?" Closing his mouth to physically stop his jumbled thoughts from manifesting, Roy took a deep breath and then continued. "My God, Maes. We buried you! At least we thought we did. I mean, Gracia identified your personal effects. That's how we knew it was you." He was babbling. He knew he was doing that, but he didn't really care at the moment. Nothing really mattered except for the fact that his best friend was alive.
Nothing was heard from the other side of the conversation until with a changed voice filled with longing Maes enquired. "How is she? And my daughter? Please tell me they are alright."
"She seemed to be holding on, last time I saw her, but…" Roy was rather unsure how to continue.
"But what? What happened?"
"She left. The day after the funeral she packed some things, took Elysia and left for Dublith. She told me not to contact her, because her cousin will take care of her. She left me a letter, but I haven't had the heart to read it yet."
"I see." There was a moment of silence before Maes spoke again. "Maybe it's better this way. At least I know she will be safe there. Things are going to get very ugly soon. I can't say more, not here. Meet me in an hour by at the old bar where we used to get drunk. Come alone, don't be late, and try to avoid being followed."
"Maes, wait!" It was no use as the line went dead in his hand. Roy stood there, staring unbelievingly at the receiver while running the conversation in his mind a couple of times. Did I just speak with Maes or was it all in my head, he wondered as doubts began assaulting his mind.
It didn't seem possible; there was much evidence that pointed to the contrary, such as the unusual shortness of the conversation and the request to go alone into what was known as the seediest part of the town, if he understood correctly the indications received. Yet his instincts were telling him that yes, Maes Hughes was alive. Or maybe it was only his wishful thinking. And while he planned on going without escort to the meeting, he would definitely bring his deadliest pair of gloves, the one he used only in uncertain situations. Such as this one.
Mind made up, he stood up from his desk, left his office quite early with a distracted salute to his first Lieutenant, and hurried over to his car. Dismissing his designated driver, Roy took the wheel and left the courtyard in a cloud of dust, as he usually did. Good thing that they thought he was rather eccentric by now.
He arrived five minutes early and parked the car at the corner, close enough to see the people entering the bar, but hidden so that he wouldn't be noticed by most of them. Scanning the crowd looking for Hughes' familiar build, he nervously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Maes was nowhere to be seen, and recently ignored doubts began their venomous whispers. Maybe it wasn't Maes, and he had foolishly walked into some kind of trap. Maybe it was all in his head, and the phone conversation never really happened. Or maybe….
Started from his thoughts, he visibly flinched when a sudden voice spoke from the back seat.
"Drive quickly." The urgency of the tone made him stop from completely turning to see who it was and before the he knew it, his foot had pushed the acceleration pedal into the floor, the car shooting forward like a nervous horse. He deftly bypassed another car before asking his passenger, whom he could clearly see in the rear mirror.
"Maes, what's going on?"
"It's complicated. I'll tell you everything I know once we've reached our destination. But first, we have a tail that we need to shake off."
"I haven't seen anyone following me. How do you know?" Roy nervously looked in the mirror trying to spot any pursuers.
"Don't look on the road; they are following us from the roofs. Turn right here."
"What?" Roy asked as he quickly steered his car into an impossibly narrow street. He could hear the sides scraping the walls and then took a sharp left turn to avoid smashing into one at full speed.
Left, right, left again, Roy lost count as he navigated the maze with speed, adrenaline pumping in his veins, always turning at the last possible moment according to Maes' indications. They entered a slightly larger street at full speed when:
"Slow down, we lost them." Obediently, Roy did just that before relaxing his deathlike grip on the steering wheel. Seeing that they were no longer running for their lives he risked a question.
"What is this all about?" The fading adrenaline gave place to bewilderment and not a small amount of anger. He wanted answers and he wanted them right that moment, the impatience clearly discernable in his tone. That didn't seem to faze Maes one bit, though.
"Roy, just wait a bit more. I promise you'll get answers, but there is yet another person you have to meet." Maes stubbornly refused to say anything more, except for directions where to turn, until they stopped in front of a clearly deserted motel, their destination.
Confused Roy opened his mouth, yet before he uttered a word a loud crash sound was heard coming from inside the building and Maes was up and running to the front door in a split second. The alchemist quickly followed hesitating only for a moment when the opened door allowed the light, clearly coming from an alchemical reaction, to spread out onto the deserted street.
"''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
More than twenty years of selling guns to the military had taught Charles Meridian the value of an impassible face in any circumstances and a cynically rational mind. A shrewd business man, he took only calculated risks before investing in a new deal, and the plan that was presented to him four years ago was crazy and daring enough to capture his attention and eventually all the resources he could spare.
It was simple, really: he would provide with the ammunition and some of the financial resources, and in a couple of years he, along with a couple of other interested investors, would control the world. Or so he thought. And all went according to his plans until an hour ago when a panicked General Hakuro had called requesting an urgent meeting. About what, it was never said aloud, the subject too sensible to be spoken on the phone, but his instincts were telling him that now was time to gracefully retreat before the situation exploded in his face. And he always listened to his instincts. That's how he was still alive after secretly selling guns to the Ishbalians during the war.
Calmly drinking his tea, his aristocratic hand resting languidly on the arm of his directorial chair, Charles pondered the pros and cons of the current situation. On the surface it would seem that he will lose everything that he invested so far, but the truth was that none of his associates in this plan had any idea of the secret labs, hidden securely in the northern mountains where handpicked scientists were starting to develop his own army with the help of the research files one of his teams had stolen from the main research facility. Ironically, it had coincided with the escape of two of the experimental chimeras, the two parties missing each other only by minutes, and the explosion afterwards had wiped out any evidence that could have pointed to him.
Allowing a cruel smirk to grace his thin lips, he planned the conversation he was going to have with the General. If he played his cards well, none of the parties involved would know that he had a hidden agenda for his backing out of the deal at the first sign of trouble. He would let them go on with it, even if acting now would most likely doom them to failure, and in a couple of years, when everyone was lulled into a false sense of security, he would strike. If he was patient, he will be the only one to control the world. After all, he had never learned how to share. Never had he seen the point in that.
A.N. Everyone, a warm welcome to my newest bad guy. This one will stay longer than the others. I have great plans for his deviousness.
