DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. Sorry for the delay on this one, but real life had a few distractions. That, and getting the fight JUST right took some time…
EASTERN CITY OUTSKIRTS, RAIN OVERFLOW TUNNEL
"Watch out!" Yelled Al. "Don't let his hand touch you!"
Guts didn't have time to respond. He's fast! He thought, as Scar darted through the distance between them. Probably assuming that I'll go for a thrust…
Guts leaped back, cape billowing about him. As he landed, he swung the massive sword, watching as Scar skidded to a stop, dancing backwards. Scar narrowed his eyes, and dashed forward as the massive blade carved air past him. He moved into the backswing, arm stretching out towards Guts' head…
And was taken by surprise as Guts stopped his swing in an instant, flipped the sword up lengthwise, and slammed the flat of the blade into Scar's side. Scar bounced off the wall, scrambling to his feet, left arm holding his chest…
Guts nodded to Al. "Thanks again. Easier to keep them alive when I've got two feet to stand on."
Ed glared at Al, who waved. "You're welcome!"
"Keep them alive…" Scar staggered, and slammed his fist into the wall. "Don't patronize me!"
A rippling burst of energy shattered along the tunnel, bursting bricks from their sockets, and sending them flying! Puck wailed and hit the dirt, and Guts raised his free arm in front of his face, guarding his eye from the flying shards. Brick dust boiled, and Guts clenched his teeth and started to bring his sword around…
Too slow. A brown hand grabbed ahold of his arm, and there was a boiling HISS…
That faded to nothing. Scar's red eyes widened, as he realized that he was holding metal instead of flesh. "You too?"
There was a KRUNCH, as Guts slammed his forehead into Scar's face. The brown man reeled back, and Guts followed up with a left hook into his ribs. Scar flew across the tunnel and coughed blood, as he struck and rebounded from the floor.
Guts shook his head, and flexed his metal fingers. The casing on his arm was dented, but it looked like it wasn't badly damaged. "So. You two know what that was all about?"
"It's not over yet!" Ed yelled, calling a metal spear out of the ground. He leveled it at Scar, who was rising to his feet yet again… Al took the time to grab the older man, and rush him down the tunnel. "Come on Doctor! Let's get you to safety…"
Scar spat blood, and mopped at his broken nose. He met Guts' stare with a furious glare, red eyes promising blood for blood, and pain for pain.
Guts blinked. Persistent guy. Pretty tough, too.
Reminds me of me. And if all he has to do is touch me… I can't get cocky here. But I'm not the only one here to worry about...
Bricks tumbled down from the ceiling, and there was a creaking from within the stone of the tunnel. Guts frowned. "Ed, get to Al. I've got this."
"Like hell!"
"No arguments! I'll meet you on the other side."
Ed turned his head to argue, and Scar was on him before he could look back! One swipe from his hand disintegrated the spear, and the other hand grabbed Ed by the neck! The scarred man's right arm drew back for the killing stroke…
And Scar yelled, as knives sprouted from his arm. Dropping Ed, he whirled back around to glare at Guts, and managed to duck the last two knives from hitting his neck.
"Go! See to your brother!" His hands empty of knives, Guts picked up his sword from where he'd stuck it in the ground. Metal grated on stone as he pulled it loose, and aimed it once again at the scarred man.
Ed clenched his teeth, scrambled up and started running down the tunnel. Scar snarled, as he pulled the last knife from his left arm. "I may have underestimated you before, but that won't happen again. You will NOT stand in the way of my vengeance."
"So. You're looking to kill those kids, that the deal?"
"I'm executing alchemists. This is JUSTICE."
"From where I'm standing now… There's just us. You still got the option to leave. Call it quits."
"Never." Scar straightened up…
And slammed his fist into the ceiling. Surprised, Guts tucked his sword back and started running forward… Too late.
Bricks and stone rained down on him, and the world turned black…
SOME TIME LATER
Colonel Mustang trotted up to the dig, saluting to Lieutenant Hawkeye as she saluted back. "Any progress?"
"No bodies yet. It looks like mostly debris, and a few witnesses placed Fullmetal and his brother as escorting an older man away just before the collapse."
"All right. Well, if we're lucky, the killer's still under there. Make sure that everyone's got-"
"He's long gone. But Guts is still under here! Not much air left, you need to get him out quick!" A fluttering green form grabbed his lapels, as Puck howled up in Mustang's face.
"Show me where to dig."
"Sir?" Hawkeye gestured around at the debris. "We're excavating as we can through this area…"
"Not you, the elf."
Hawkeye's face flushed, as a few of the soldiers stopped digging to look up. "Sir, this is NOT the time to play around…"
"He's over here!" Called Puck, zooming over to a pile of rubble.
"Good. You two, shift that rubble. Be careful with it, I think we have a survivor."
A few minutes later, the rock slid aside to reveal Guts, squatting against the wall in a cramped, narrow space. He looked up with his face covered in dust and streaks of blood, and grinned. "What took you?"
"Sorry for the wait. Where's the killer?"
"Don't know. He dropped the ceiling on me and ran."
"All right." With the soldiers' help, and Puck cheering them on inaudibly, Guts was hoisted from the hole. Mustang whistled, as the full extent of his injuries became visible. A purple-black spray of bruises covered the parts of his chest that were visible under his torn shirt, and a mass of scrapes and tears criss-crossed their way across his arm and legs.
"You're a mess."
"I've had worse."
"So what's he look like, anyway? We've never had anyone survive a fight with him."
"Well, he had brown skin, red eyes, and a big white X-shaped scar on his forehead… What?"
Mustang's face had gone somber. "Well. At least we know his motive. He's Ishbalan."
Hawkeye looked away. "Sir, Fullmetal and the others are still unaccounted for. We need to continue the search, immediately."
"I'll help."
"You're pretty badly torn up. Are you sure you want to keep going?"
"This is nothing. Besides, we got a bargain, right?"
Mustang nodded. "All right…"
FOUR HOURS LATER
It was raining by the time they caught up to him, and what they saw in the alleyway…
Al was down, half his armor in shattered shards, with nothing underneath.
Ed's automail was in ruins, and he was kneeling, kneeling with Scar's hand on his head!
"NO!"
Ignoring the shouts of the soldiers around him, not hearing Mustang shouting next to him, Guts charged forward, drawing his sword as he went…
As a sparkling red stone flew from the older man next to Al, and Scar caught it, and SCREAMED. Ed rolled clear, and ran to Al…
There was a flash of red light, and Scar looked up from his pain to see Guts charging straight for him, the massive blade descending toward his head…
Even in pain, it was child's play for Scar to dash aside and get his hand around Guts' arm and swing him around, using the big man's momentum against him…
And ending up with his right hand wrapped around Guts' left.
BLAM!
Godo's masterpiece blew into a thousand fragments, one nicking Guts' cheek as it went by, and Scar grinned in triumph…
…Only to realize that he was staring straight into a muzzle, as Guts dropped his sword, pointed his stump at Scar, and pulled the ripcord.
BOOM.
And then there was silence.
When the smoke cleared, the Elrics, Dr. Marcoh, the Military, and Guts were left staring at the bloody remnants of a muscular tattooed arm, torn from the shoulder and pulped by the point-blank cannonball.
Guts looked up, following the blood-smear, up to the hole in the building across the way.
He scooped up his sword, one-handed, and ran to the entrance.
"Come on!" Mustang waved the soldiers forward, leading the charge…
There was a muffled WHUMP from inside the building, which shook like it was going to come down. Smoke rolled out of the hole. Guts frowned, as he leaped through the dust and debris. That sounded like a couple of my bombs…
He spared a glance down at his belt, and noticed a pair of pouches missing. Must have happened when he grabbed me. It IS my bombs!
He found the main room of the house, and waved dust away… To reveal a gaping hole in the wooden floor. The hole disappeared down into darkness, and a scent of human waste and musty water rolled out of it.
"Damn! He's gotten into the sewers." Mustang skidded to a stop, right behind him. "Havoc, Breda, get a party together. Block off the entrances, keep a watch."
"But… But sir, he's a monster! We're just regular guys…"
"He's lost an arm, stop being wimps!"
Hawkeye caught up to them, holstering her pistols. "A delegation from military intelligence has arrived, to take custody of Marcoh."
"Damn! I need to go deal with this. Guts, thanks for your help. I'm going to have to ask you to stick around a little longer…"
Guts shrugged, and sheathed his sword. With that arm gone, he might not be able to do his exploding trick. That takes care of that.
He followed the soldiers out, ignoring the scene as Mustang and the other soldiers escorted Dr. Marcoh into custody. He ambled over to the Elrics, sorting through his pouches as he went.
Okay, so he got the bombs. No big deal, I know how to make those. They're replaceable, and black powder's pretty easy to find here. So what else is missing…
He stopped, cold. His eye narrowed. Puck flitted over from the roof where he had perched to watch the fight. "What's wrong?"
"You know that Behelit I've been carrying around?"
"Yeah…"
"It's gone."
THE SEWERS OF EASTERN CITY
The scarred man leaned against the wall, and held one end of the tourniquet steady with his teeth, as he finished tying it around his shoulder. It was terrible pain, but he'd been through similar pain before, long ago. He had survived then, and he would survive now.
It would have taken me in the face. If I hadn't dodged, it would have taken my head off instead of…
He almost wished that the blast HAD taken his head off. My brother's arm. My brother's arm, the last remnant of him… It's gone.
He sunk back against the wall, his eyes staring into nothing. It was my hope for vengeance, for closure. But now… Now it's gone.
What do I do now? Oh sweet Ishbala, what do I do now?
And as he hugged his left arm around his chest, he felt something hard and round against his side.
That other pouch that I snatched from the one-eyed man. The first one had bombs… What does this one have?
He pulled it out and considered it, dourly. What does it matter now? There's nothing in it that could possibly help my situation.
Still, he found his fingers working the drawstring. Awkward, with only one hand, but manageable. The constant throbbing of his shoulder dulled, and he found himself moving as if in a haze. This is like a dream. What is this?
The pouch opened, and there was a sound like distant muttering. Placing it on his lap, Scar reached down into the leather bag, and pulled out something round, something like an egg…
And he looked into the open eye of the ugly little rock, and smiled to see the grotesque face sprawled across it.
The eye blinked, and for some reason he felt no disgust, only amusement.
Scar chuckled.
Looping it by its thong around his neck, he rose to his feet. The pain was gone, somehow… They would search the sewers soon, and he knew he had to move.
This is fate. He knew, and could not explain why he knew.
And I'll go where my fate takes me…
With that final thought, Scar disappeared into the darkness of the sewers…