Ta-da! A new chapter! Not technically uploaded on the same day, but I got awfully close.
This chapter, we meet a new Monk character and get a lot of introspection. I hope you enjoy! :)
Underlined text like this = speaking Amestrian
- MR. MONK AND THE ALCHEMIST -
Edward took everything back. He never should have left the fucking country.
First, there had been the tiny little detail that Mustang had oh-so-kindly failed to mention: in order to go to San Francisco, he had to learn English. Ed was a quick learner, so it hadn't even been that hard, but damn. Seriously, what was even up with that language? Learning it had almost been as frustrating as decoding Dr. Marcoh's notes!
Then there had been the plane. The plane. The physics-defying, several-thousand-pound metal death trap that had taken them out of Amestris and to America. (Ed was definitely researching the science behind that later, thank you very much.) The stupid flight had taken hours, and they hadn't even gone straight to San Francisco; instead, they'd taken a detour to some miserable place called Washington in order to meet some joker who called himself the President. Edward had already forgotten the guy's name. He blamed the jet lag.
Only now were they finally arriving (after yet another flight) at the place they were actually supposed to go: San Francisco, California.
As soon as he stepped outside, Edward immediately decided he liked it better than that Washington place. It was warmer here, and that much easier on his automail port - just the one port now, which he didn't think he'd ever get used to. He hadn't realized how nice it was to have two flesh arms until he'd lost one of them.
"Are you the guys from Amestris?"
Ed, Mustang, and Hawkeye all turned around, Roy's hand curled to snap at his side and Riza's snaking towards her gun. Edward himself had to resist the urge to start punching on instinct. But there was no Homunculus, no serial killer, no rogue alchemist; just a man, sporting a King Bradley-esque mustache and a fancy-looking suit with a striped tie.
"Captain Leland Stottlemeyer of the San Francisco Police Department. Nice to meet you," Bradley-Stache said, sticking out his hand to shake.
Mustang's eyes sharpened at the sight of the man, but he recovered quickly, accepting the handshake with a charismatic grin. In a voice smoother than butter, he said, "I am Brigadier General Roy Mustang of the Amestrian military, better known as the Flame Alchemist. It's a pleasure, I'm sure." Ed almost rolled his eyes, because of course the bastard knew perfect English.
Hawkeye didn't offer her own hand, instead performing a perfect military salute. "Captain Riza Hawkeye, also of the Amestrian military. It is an honor to work with you, sir."
Bradley-Stache turned to him, obviously curious about the presence of someone not in military uniform. Roy shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, one they were both very familiar with: the don't-do-anything-stupid-or-I-court-martial-you look. Bastard.
"Edward Elric," he said simply. He did not offer his hand.
Mustang sighed almost inaudibly. Bradley-Stache raised an eyebrow, but didn't push further. "Looks like we have two captains here, eh?" He said jokingly, gesturing towards Hawkeye in an obvious attempt to make a joke.
"Yes," replied Hawkeye.
Bradley-Stache blinked. Then he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah. Uh, yeah. Anyways, I, uh, I'm supposed to take you back to the station now. Just to ask you some questions." He smiled nervously, and again Ed got the feeling he was trying to make a weird joke. The resulting silence was so awkward that Edward almost felt bad. "I was just - kidding, it's nothing. Come on, let's go."
They followed Bradley-Stache to a car painted with the letters SAN FRANCISCO POLICE on its side. Bradley-Stache (Throttler? Stoppleyer?) offered one of them a front seat next to him, but they all declined, choosing to squeeze together in the backseat. It was unspoken between the Amestrians that this was so they could flee together if the man turned out to be an enemy. Bradley-Stache didn't seem all that surprised, anyway. He just shook his head and handed them a file.
"This is all the information we have on the murder. You can go ahead and look over that on the way. And if you have any questions, you can just... yeah." Bradley-Stache rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure what to do. Finally, he got into the driver's seat, and the car began to move.
Mustang flipped through the file for a moment, Hawkeye reading over his shoulder, before he handed it to Ed. "What do you make of this?"
Edward scanned through the papers; years of working for the Amestrian military had taught him how to filter out the bullshit and unimportant stuff to find the important information. He paused at the crime scene photographs. They showed a man lying in a pool of his own blood, splayed out on top of a chalked transmutation circle. Apparently his blood had been boiled inside his own body, similar to Isaac the Freezer's MO.
"It's weird," Edward said, dumping the file onto the slim amount of unused seat between the three. "The transmutation circle is an advanced one, and there are barely any transmutation marks, so this guy is good. But the way it's drawn... it's sloppy. Like he was in a rush, or his hands were shaking, or something. If he wanted to get this done quick, he could have just stabbed the guy and been done with it. Hell, he could have drawn out the array in advance, had it tattooed onto him so it wouldn't leave evidence behind at the scene. Why bother doing all this?"
"You think he's trying to send a message," Roy surmised. However annoying his former CO was, he was also smart as hell.
Edward replied with a nod. "Best I can figure, yeah. What I can't figure out is how the hell he got out of Amestris in the first place."
"That's the real issue here," Hawkeye confirmed. "Fuhrer Grumman is concerned as to how the perpetrator might have escaped the country. My alchemical knowledge is limited, but there does seem to be something more to this."
"There always is," Roy said drily, and Ed snorted out a laugh.
Hawkeye, now carefully hiding her smile, asked, "What are your opinions on Captain Stottlemeyer? He seems trustworthy."
"He could stand to lose the mustache, but otherwise? Seems fine. Kinda awkward. Reminds me of Sergeant Brosh a little," Ed replied after a moment of thought. Stottlemeyer - so that was his name - didn't reek of corruption... then again, the dangerous ones rarely did. "What's your verdict, Mustang? You're the one who's good at all this manipulative shit."
Roy stroked his chin. "I don't think he's a threat. But he is observant. We'll have to be careful." Then a wide, smug grin broke out across his face, and he took one of Riza's hands in his own. "Of course, you'll always be my favorite captain, Hawkeye-"
Hawkeye's hand suddenly went very meaningfully to her gun. She couldn't exactly fire off a shot in the car, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. Nor did the ever so slight blush on her face.
Ed snickered at the way Roy fell silent. Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. Ed shut up. This time, Roy snickered at him, the nerve.
"You're both so immature," Hawkeye chided with a shake of her head, but she wasn't reaching for her gun anymore, which was all that really mattered. Ed grinned slightly.
It was nice to see that even in another country, some things never changed.
- MR. MONK AND THE ALCHEMIST -
Leland Stottlemeyer wasn't sure what to make of the Amestrians.
They were... odd. That was the best way he could explain it. Amestris had guarded their borders so zealously for years, so it was strange enough that they were here in the first place, with their blank stares and stories of a science that could raise up buildings and mow down armies. Something about the way they tensed at any sudden movement reminded him of his brother, right after returning from the jungles of Vietnam. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it made sense. These were soldiers, after all.
Still, the blond man looked pretty young; he couldn't have been older than twenty. And those golden-colored contacts he was wearing? Definitely the kind of decision a dumb teenager would make.
The car reached a red light. Leland took the opportunity to look back at the passengers in the backseat. The Amestrians were talking to each other in soft tones like they were afraid of being overheard - like they weren't already speaking an entirely different language. Definitely some paranoia going on there. That could also be chalked up to the military, he supposed, but Leland's police-honed instincts were telling him otherwise.
Something else was going on here. Something that was definitely above his pay-grade.
Sensing a lull in the conversation, Leland decided to cut in, starting with something simple: "So, uh, how old are you guys? Out of curiosity."
That was true enough; he had to get some answers out of these people, but he might as well satisfy his own curiosity while he was at it.
"I am thirty years old," the black-haired man - Mustang, the one who smiled like a politician - told him. Awfully young for a man of his rank. He could only assume the strange symbols stitched onto the gloves were alchemical in nature, though he had no idea what they might do. No - he'd introduced himself as the Flame Alchemist, hadn't he? Leland dimly remembered seeing that name in a newspaper article: something about the recent military coup that had taken place there. This man had been a key player in it, if not its actual leader. Definitely someone to keep an eye on.
The blonde woman, Hawkeye, primly responded, "I am twenty-eight." And suddenly Leland almost shuddered, because something - probably the bulge of a gun in her jacket, and the way she looked like she knew how to use it - told him that though she seemed impassive now, she'd be worse than Sharona if she got angry. Leland reminded himself to never make her angry.
Now the only one who hadn't yet responded was the younger blond. Edward Elric, if he recalled. Choosing to look out the window instead of making eye contact, Elric said "Sixteen" and then promptly shut up.
Sixteen.
Leland could barely hold back his surprise. He really should have been able to tell as much from the kid's (the kid's) height, but something about him - the way he carried himself, the look in his eyes - he had somehow seemed so much... older.
Now, though, it seemed so obvious. Sixteen! Hell, his sons were that age! Elric wasn't even wearing a military uniform, but suddenly it was all he could see, overlapped with images of Max and Jared toting guns, fighting in some hellhole - the kind of stuff that kept him awake at night. Not to mention if this Elric kid really was in the military, and was trusted enough to go on an overseas mission, then he'd probably been there for a while. Leland's blood ran cold. Fuck, were they dealing with a child soldier?!
Seeming to sense his horror, Mustang offered a reassuring smile. "Please do not worry. Edward is not a part of the military. He is here only in the capacity of a trusted alchemical consultant."
Leland responded before he could stop himself. "You're still letting a minor onto a violent crime scene."
"I can do my job," Elric snapped with a scowl on his face. Then his eyes seemed to harden with something blazing and golden, and suddenly Leland wasn't so sure those were colored contacts. "And I am not a child."
Seeing him like that, Leland could almost believe it.
The light turned green. Leland turned around again, hands dangerously tight on the wheel, and the Amestrians soon fell back into their own conversation.
Only a few minutes later, soft snores began to issue from the backseat. Leland stole a quick glance over his shoulder, only to see that Elric had fallen asleep. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, his head leaning against Hawkeye's shoulder - the picture of young innocence. He hadn't pegged the woman for the motherly type, but Hawkeye didn't look upset, only smiling fondly and adjusting her position in her seat. Mustang, despite his sigh of annoyance, made no move to wake the boy either. The trio could almost be mistaken for a young couple and their son.
Leland had a feeling this was going to be a rough case.
Just an alchemical consultant, he reminded himself. Not military. Not a soldier. Just a teenager, working on a murder.
"He's young," Leland finally said. There was nothing else to say. Not really.
"He is," Mustang agreed. "But he's strong, too. And he has more alchemical knowledge than many men who have dedicated their entire lives to the art." A strangely insightful look crossed his face and, looking Leland right in the eye, said, "There is no shame in knowing less than a man like him."
No shame in knowing less... huh.
Leland couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to a certain defective detective at those words. His hands tightened on the wheel again.
Some people's minds really were beyond anyone else's reach.
- MR. MONK AND THE ALCHEMIST -
Fun fact: in one episode, Stottlemeyer actually does mention that he has a brother who served in the Vietnam War, so I thought that might give him a bit of added insight into the Amestrians. Not to mention the fact that he's been a detective for many years and has been trained to notice things. I do feel like Leland's experience as a cop would make him awfully curious about Ed, Mustang, and Hawkeye.
Likewise, after the, ahem, unpleasant experiences that the Amestrians have had with their government, they'd naturally be a little distrusting. This did originally come into my head as a crack crossover idea, but I do really want to do a good job of addressing the characters' trauma, and all the ways they'd be affected by the countless difficult experiences we see them endure and overcome. This does apply to the Monk characters as well... though I am much less confident writing them. Sorry if Leland seemed OOC in this chapter because of that.
This was already getting to a decent length, so I decided to post it as-is. Next chapter should see the intro of a lot more characters, including Randy, Natalie, and everybody's favorite defective detective: Aaaaaaadriannnnnn Monnnnnnnkkkkk!
I hate to be that author who begs for reviews, but I would greatly appreciate any feedback or advice you guys have for me. Reviews make my day! Or night, it's like 3 AM where I am right now, but whatever. Just... putting that out there. I'm going to stop talking now.
Until next time :D