House of Echidna Ch. 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. I do, however, own the OCs and the city in which most of the story takes place.
Warnings: Foul language, mild violence, FMA-grade tragic back-stories, and horrible puns.
Posting Schedule: Every Monday and Thursday until completion.
Posting Schedule Note: Just like when I posted Golden Scales, this story isn't complete at the moment of posting this chapter. So, at some point, this schedule may be broken if I can't write new chapters in time for the posting days. I have ten completed chapters right now, so I'm hoping that's enough of a head start to wrap things up before that happens.
Summary: Shortly after the Tucker incident, a new alchemist steps forward to claim Shou's former title. The State readily recruits them for their remarkable chimera-restoring technique, but Mustang sees something much more valuable: a temporary solution to Alphonse's problem.
Universe: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.
Author's Notes (IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!): This entire story deviates from the canon plotline. Literally nothing is the same from the Tucker Incident onward. If you were looking for a story that sticks close to canon events, you'll be disappointed. If you were looking for a story with entirely different events, then you've come to the right place!
Another thing: you might've missed out on the deeper meaning behind the title if you don't know who Echidna is. Echidna is a figure in Greek mythology, a monster who was half woman and half snake. She is primarily regarded as the mother of monsters, since she birthed a lot of the more well known monsters in the legends, including the chimera itself.
Also: If you're concerned about reading graphic or nightmare-inducing content, don't be. This is not a horror story, unlike a lot of other fics involving chimeras. I will only write what is absolutely necessary to maintain realism, nothing more. Expect a relatively normal story with normal themes, such as family, friendship, humor, and maybe even a little bit of fluffy romance if I'm feeling particularly lovey-dovey.
One last thing: This chapter is a lot longer than the rest (7k+ words). The rest of the chapters average at around 3k-4k words, with an occasional 2k or 5k here than there.
Without further ado, please enjoy the story! :)
o.O.0.O.o
After the first couple of weeks passed since the Tucker incident, everything seemed to slowly go back to normalcy. At least, for Mustang they had. The rampant serial killer known as "Scar" had mysteriously vanished. The tension in his men's shoulders slipped away little by little. Fullmetal stormed back into his office, his report in hand, and went right along calling him Colonel Bastard again. Mustang's nightmares had gone back to the usual blood-filled memories of Ishval, instead of that… piteous thing that used to be a girl and her dog.
He'd spoken with all the bio-alchemists he could get a wire out to, and none of them knew a way to undo that deranged man's actions even if the poor creature hadn't been murdered. At the time, it nearly crushed his soul to hear. Mustang wasn't simply curious. He wanted to know if the two could've been saved. He needed to know if it was at all remotely possible. Not just for his information, but for him to sleep soundly knowing he could've done something to correct that unholy mistake. And yet, no one he talked to gave him that reassurance.
So when rumors started circulating about an alchemist that could accomplish just what he was looking for, he was more than willing to take Maes' offer to sit in for their State Alchemist exam. Although, even with his enthusiasm to check out the promising lead, he couldn't quite choke the bile all the way down. Even the thought of another chimera-inclined alchemist joining their ranks made him feel nauseous.
Understandably, Mustang found himself deeply conflicted the morning before the exam. His head wanted to know if the rumors were true; if chimeras like Nina and Alexander could really be saved. But his stomach wanted him to hop on the next train for Creta and leave Amestris and all its twisted alchemy behind. Fortunately, at least a hundred different reasons convinced him to stay and watch the exam.
And sure enough, the rumors were true. In front of his very eyes, the woman separated the two animals on the table in almost no time at all. The Fuhrer smiled down at her approvingly. The feat itself was an incredible leap forward in the applications of bio-alchemy. However, Mustang saw something entirely different. He'd come to watch in hopes of gaining peace of mind. Not only had he found it, but he also found a possible alternative to a different problem. A problem that wasn't even his.
Mustang couldn't pretend that he understood everything she'd done, but he was pretty sure the alchemist had brought corpses of the two animal types, and simply transferred the animals' souls to the respective bodies. It was something that had never even occurred to him as a possibility before. He knew Fullmetal had managed to stick his brother's soul to a suit of armor. But Edward received Al's soul from the Gate. Mustang never considered the thought of moving a soul already present in the physical world from one body to another.
It blew his mind, to say the least.
That's when the cogs in his head started turning. Suddenly, his peace of mind was shoved to the far recesses of his mind, and his concern no longer rested with restoring chimeras. If moving a soul from one body to the next was possible without the Gate, then wouldn't it make sense to use that technique to give Alphonse a real body? Although Mustang doubted Fullmetal would be willing to let Al try it right away, he was sure after sincere discussion on the matter the kid would warm up to the idea.
But before Mustang made up his mind about giving the Elric brothers the lead, he had to be sure about what he was dealing with. After all, he didn't want a repeat of the Tucker incident. He needed to know what his subordinate would be getting himself into. He refused to blindly send that kid into hell again. This time, he was determined to see for his own eyes what this alchemist was all about.
Which was why he stood on a half-sunken stone path, in the rain, gazing up at yet another impressive mansion. Just like the morning before the exam, uncertainty and cowardice swam around in his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of the facts Maes had gone over with him: this woman had no children, she was not struggling financially, and she had no interest in splicing chimeras. When he opened his eyes and looked up at the mansion again, apprehension slithered its way back into his gut. It only took the edge off.
"Sir?" a curt voice asked.
He looked to his right at his steadfast subordinate. Her falcon-feather colored eyes, while dulled in the dim light, conveyed hints of concern. She stood stern and stiff, her shoulders back and her chin up. Her hand rested on the latch of the iron gate. She wore a look of understanding and sympathy.
Mustang cleared his throat and gave her a quick nod. She unlatched the gate and swung it open.
While they walked up the long path leading to the front of the estate, he couldn't help but take in its grandness in awe. The walls were constructed of black stone, with white marble accents in the trim and the columns that supported the awnings of the wraparound porch. The roof was shingled in what appeared to be thousands of green stone slabs. In the well-lit windows, he could see silky curtains fashioned tastefully behind the glass, which were dyed the same serpent-scale green as the shingles. Yet another thing sporting that color was the large, wooden front doors. The porch they eventually stood on seemed to be made of the same black stone as the walls, which was only decorated with a couple of white marble gargoyle statues flanking the two columns in front of the doors. The door handles were simple levers made of silver. Oddly enough, there was a second set of handles near the bottom of the doors, running parallel with the porch. They appeared to be ordinary cubboard handles, simple strips of metal bent inwards on the ends and fixed to the wood.
Before Mustang could even lay a knuckle on that wood, he heard a loud crash on the other side of it, followed by dog barking and what sounded like the screechy laughter of a toddler. That's when Roy's heart stopped.
It's a child… he thought frantically, and a dog… oh god, not again.
He looked over at Hawkeye, hoping that perhaps his mind was playing a cruel trick on him. However, a bar of lead seemed to settle in his stomach when their eyes met and he noticed she wore the same expression of mild horror.
The sounds behind the door only managed to sound more and more convincingly like a toddler and a dog rough-housing, which only worsened Roy's growing nausea.
"Sir?" Hawkeye ventured. "I would not be opposed to leaving and forgetting we ever came here… sir."
Roy was not surprised by his subordinate's suggestion. Although it wasn't for the right reason, he was relieved to hear she was at least giving him an option to opt out. Hawkeye wasn't afraid of anything, but she was concerned for his mental health, which had taken a considerable blow during the Tucker incident.
Oddly enough, knowing that he could chicken out if he wanted to gave him the courage to rap his knuckles against the doors and forge ahead with his self-assigned mission.
To their surprise, the dog answered the door. Mustang sprung backwards a few steps as a huge, fluffy Amestrian Sheppard trotted out to inspect them with its nose. Although he got a dirty look from Hawkeye, Mustang gave the dog a gentle push with his hands, steering it away from him. When it moved on to Hawkeye, it received a warmer greeting. It seemed to take a liking to her, as it probably smelled Black Hayate, and licked her hands.
While they were distracted with the dog, the small child had appeared in the doorway.
"Hi, new people!" he said cheerfully, his face flushed. "What do you want?"
The boy looked around four or five-ish, and he wore a simple white shirt with tan shorts and no shoes. He peered up at them expectantly, but Mustang merely stood there and blinked. Hawkeye snapped out of it first and bent down a little with a warm smile on her lips.
"Hello. We're here to see Fiona Kuhn. Is she here?"
The child gave her a toothy grin and said, "Yep! She's taking a poop. You can come in and wait for her if you want."
Hawkeye gave Mustang a look that said, You can still back out right now if you want. But after this, I'm not letting you turn back.
Mustang was starting to get a bit irritated with being treated like a baby. While Hawkeye's concern was welcome at the front of the house, he didn't appreciate being coddled in front of a toddler. So he motioned for her to lead the way into the house.
Immediately upon entry, warm scents of cherry pie and burnt toast greeted Mustang's nostrils. Somewhere, probably coming from another room entirely, he heard what sounded like a live instrument playing. Some kind of flute, maybe? A bountiful array of fire-lit torches illuminated the foyer with a soft, natural glow. The glass globes surrounding the open flames shielded the heinously green wallpaper that occupied every square inch of drywall. The floors were made of shiny wooden panels of dark cherry, standing out like a sore thumb next to all the green.
The room itself was rectangular, running longways in the East/West directions. The East wall was decorated with paintings of what appeared to be generations of the Kuhn family. Down by the end, adjacent to the North wall, a door hung open, revealing a flight of stairs descending into what Roy figured was the basement. On the North wall, slightly hidden behind the basement door, a doorway leading to the kitchen gaped open. On the West wall was a simple series of four closed doors, divided by the wall-mounted torches. Laden with green fabric of course, two couches and a chair huddled around a shiny dark-wood coffee table. In the middle of the room, granting access to a spacious wrap-around loft, a grand green-carpeted stairway stood. On that stairway, near the ground floor, lay shattered bits of pottery, a fair amount of dirt, and an uprooted houseplant.
That was the crashing sound he heard earlier, Mustang figured.
The small child led them over to one of the couches and took off running towards the kitchen shouting, "May! George knocked over the plant again!"
Once the kid was out of sight, Hawkeye gave him a meaningful look.
"Sir," she said, "the report stated very clearly that miss Kuhn had no children. Do you think…?"
Equally unnerved by the child's presence, Mustang's eyes floated over to the East wall. Within seconds, he located the most recent painting. It depicted a middle-aged man sitting behind a grinning teenager. The teen, Mustang knew, was none other than a younger Fiona Kuhn. The painting was done too early to tell if the family included any potential children she might've had.
"He's not mine, if that's what you're wondering."
Every nerve in his body jumped. He whipped around to see the owner of the estate sitting across from them on the other couch.
Just like how he remembered from her exam, she had layered dirty-blonde hair that stopped just above her shoulders. Her eyes were an unimpressive shade of dark brown, and her tan skin was littered with little nicks and scratches, as if she had a less-than-friendly cat (for all Mustang knew, she could've). She wore a simple green shirt underneath a typical doctor's coat, a pair of almost scandalously short denim shorts, and a pair of black sandals. From afar, where Mustang stood to watch the proceedings, she looked like she was in her early twenties. But now that he was seeing her so close up, he increased that estimate to late twenties. A small smile played on her colorless lips. Then she cleared her throat and stood.
"What can I do for you, officers?" she asked politely.
They were on their feet in seconds. Mustang said, "Good afternoon, miss Kuhn. My name is Colonel Mustang, and this is First Lieutenant Hawkeye. We would like to conduct a small investigation, if you don't mind."
He cleared his mind of the usual thought-clutter and focused on reading her. Her expression in reactance to what he'd just stated would either pass or fail his first test. Mustang had done this many times before, and he knew only two answers were possible. If she passed, she would give him a look of genuine confusion. Any other response not a variant of that would immediately fail. In which case, a forced investigation would ensue, should she refuse. As with many other State Alchemist candidates, he expected her to fail his test. Every alchemist was hiding something.
Mustang had to hold back a cruel smirk when she gave them a deadpan look.
"I understand, sir," she stated, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I saw that man in the papers. Shou Tucker. I can imagine the military's reluctance to let another person like him in."
Mustang could feel a little bit of stiffness in his posture leave him. Hawkeye's ever-tightened jaw loosened. So she knew about Tucker… It was a relief for Mustang to hear. At least she was aware of the stigma she would be attempting to disprove by taking his title. And it helped to know that she too was uncomfortable at the idea of what he'd done. Maybe that meant, as an alchemist, she would pointedly avoid making the same mistakes.
He cleared his throat. "Do you agree to cooperate, then?"
Without moving or looking up, she said, "Yes, sir."
"Right. Then let's get started. Have a seat, please."
Five minutes flew by, and the meaningless but necessary questions had been answered. She was born right there in Casier, into a family that had always possessed good fortune and wealth. The Kuhn family inherited its good name from Dr. John L. Kuhn, an ingenious geologist credited with discovering the local gemstone deposit the original town of Casier was founded around.
Fiona was twenty-eight years old and had birthed no children, though her fiance's nephew, Victor, (the boy who answered the door) often stayed with her at the estate while his parents visited relatives in Creta. Her fiance (she seemed to like addressing him as such), Louis, ran a small import shop when he wasn't out traveling and collecting new items. She happily showed them a photograph of them all standing together behind the counter in the shop. Mustang remembered seeing the front of that shop on their way to the estate.
Until recently, she said, her father had been part of her small but loving family. Tragically, he went missing a couple of years ago during a mining expedition, and he hadn't been seen since. She told them he taught her almost everything she knew about alchemy. It was then that Mustang began to nod off. He'd heard this story so many times before he thought he might vomit at hearing it again. Luckily for him, Hawkeye elbowed him before Fiona could notice his lack of enthusiasm.
After the woman finally shut up about her father, Mustang took a moment to gather his thoughts. Taking the pause as her cue, Hawkeye gave Fiona some casual inquiries to distract her while he examined his impressions.
So far, nothing about this woman gave him red flags. Her story was consistent and it had been conveyed calmly and honestly, as far as he could detect. He'd spent years honing his ability to read people's expressions, body language, and voices. He saw no evidence of unease. Everything checked out.
Yet, he reserved his judgement. She may have passed the backstory portion of the interrogation with flying colors, but he had yet to see how she performed when asked the more pointed questions.
Mustang waited for a sufficient break in the conversation to clear his throat. Once he had Fiona's attention again, he leaned forward and laced his fingers together.
"I have a few more questions to ask you, miss Kuhn," he told her. "Then, if you don't mind, we'd like to see a small demonstration of your work."
Mustang observed no change in her demeanor as she nodded and leaned back into the couch. "Very well, sir."
"You said your father worked as a doctor in the mines, correct?"
She nodded.
"And you told us he taught you almost everything you knew about alchemy," he continued. "Did your father work on chimeras, or was that something you learned on your own?"
For the first time, Fiona's smile wavered. The dog that had answered the door earlier, which had been contently snoozing on the rug at the bottom of the stairwell, whined and trotted out of the room. Mustang could feel the atmosphere of the room shift. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, though Mustang convinced himself it was merely a figment of his imagination.
Fiona's gaze once again dropped to the floorboards. A few seconds crept by before she said, "He had no interest in chimeras. That was something I had to learn by myself… sir."
A frown pulled at his lips. "What do you mean you had to? Explain."
"Well, you see," she began, "about a year ago, George got dognapped. When we found him, some sick bastard fused him with a cat and left him for dead in an alley. If I didn't find a way to separate them, both George and the cat would've died."
Hawkeye spoke up. "That must've been very difficult."
His subordinate, while trying to keep up appearances, had seemingly caught Fiona's change of tone as well. As soon as Fiona uttered the word "well" Mustang heard something different in her voice. Something wasn't quite right. If he did say so himself, it sounded rather rehearsed. For the first time since speaking with her, Mustang detected evidence of a lie.
That was the first red flag. But that didn't stop him from pressing forward. Even though she'd gotten an excellent head start at appearing honest and trustworthy, he had expected her to falter at some point. However, in order to gauge her potential usefulness to him, he needed to know just how far down this rabbit hole went. And at some point, he needed to expose her for what she really was, just like he'd done to the Elric brothers.
With that in mind, he decided to "play it cool" and pretend as if he believed her lie. He knew the ugly truth would reveal itself eventually. It was inevitable. He just hoped that, whatever it was, it wasn't going to blow up in their faces like it had with Shou Tucker.
He gave Hawkeye a knowing glance. Then he cleared his throat and stood. "I believe that's all the information we need. Now we'd like you to show us a demonstration of your alchemy technique, if you please."
Still looking a bit shaken from the questioning, Fiona nodded and rose. She signaled for them to follow and headed for the basement door. As he reached the doorway, Mustang discreetly pulled his gloves out of his coat pocket and slipped them on. Hawkeye casually slipped her hand into her pocket, where she kept her trusty gun. They exchanged a meaningful look before descending the stairs after her.
o.O.0.O.o
The Kuhn estate "basement" didn't look like a basement at all.
Despite the cloudy skies, plenty of natural daylight flooded in through the generously large windows, illuminating a completely finished and livable space. The space itself, Mustang believed, was so massive it had to span the entire house. Even the steel poles and beams that held the weight of the structure were tastefully hidden beneath augmented wooden panels (cherry like the floors upstairs). The ceiling was equally well hidden with black cork panels and a network of silver strips interlocking together. Black carpet covered about two thirds of the floor, and the remaining third was done in polished cherry wood panels like the upstairs. On the West side, where there was plenty of carpet, mindfully arranged green-fabric seating gathered in groups around coffee tables and beneath windows.
In the middle, separating the East and West sides on the North wall, was a quaint wooden stairway that lead to a hatch in the ceiling: the cellar door that lead to the backyard, Mustang presumed.
On the East side, to the right of where they had entered via the stairway, was a surprisingly tidy workshop-like space. Dozens of tables of varying sizes and shapes were spread out in a thoughtful arrangement, forming a sort of crescent shape opening away from one of the windows. On those tables sat a plethora of jars, jugs, boxes, and glassware, all labeled neatly and organized by size, which was oddly appealing to look at. Along with the containers were journals, books, and loose-leaf paper that formed neat stacks organized by type. On either side of the window on the wall were cork tack-boards with random scraps of notes pinned in an orderly fashion. The only thing that looked remotely messy was the presence of stains scattered about here and there. Although they were faded, as if someone tried their outmost to clean it up before it stained. Judging by the faded stains, Mustang threw away the idea that Fiona cleaned up the lab for visitors. It seemed the woman was naturally the neat-freak type.
Mustang smirked. That was a cumbersome trait to have as an alchemist. Where there is alchemy, there is always a mess of some sort.
The state of the basement itself wasn't what caught his attention, though. While it was fine and dandy to look at, the main attraction was the animals.
They scurried about the basement freely. Some were avian and used their wings to flap to and fro. Some were reptilian or amphibian and scuttered across the floor and up the support poles. Some were mammalian and lazed about on the furniture and on the plush rugs (surprisingly white). Most of them were chimeras. All of them looked quite happy.
Mustang's eye floated over to an arrangement of cages he hadn't noticed before in the Northeast corner. They were all quite sizable and roomy, with little bits and bobs decorating the insides, like toys and ladders. Most of them were empty of their animal, and all of the doors hung wide open.
Then, another thing Mustang hadn't noticed before caught his eye: a person. She was on her knees tilting a bird cage on its side, cleaning out the bottom with a rag. Her black and white maid's uniform complimented her long midnight black hair and fair skin. When she turned to look at them, he noticed her eyes were a stunning pale blue.
"Hello, May," Fiona spoke in a cheerful tone. "This is Colonel Mustang and First Lieutenant Hawkeye. Officers, this is May, my housekeeper."
May put the rag down and stood. She donned a nervous smile as she crossed the basement to shake their hands. "Hello, officers. It's a pleasure to meet you both."
Her voice came out a lot higher and squeakier than Mustang anticipated. And her handshake was weak at best. But he didn't hold that against her. A lot of people got unreasonably nervous around military officers.
So far, Mustang's impression of the basement completely defied his expectations. He'd expected a dark, dingy dungeon-like space, with animals miserably crammed into small cages and stacked against the walls. But what he found was basically a chimera paradise. It took all the unwritten rules of chimera-alchemy lairs and chucked them off the side of a cliff. To say the least, Mustang was immensely pleased. He found himself taking his gloves back off, and he caught sight of Hawkeye retracting her hand from her pocket.
Fiona waved her arm, gesturing around the room at the animals, and said, "May, could you do me a favor and clear the basement? But don't take Daisy. These nice officers here want to see a demonstration, and now is as good a time as any to fix her up."
"Of course, Fiona."
May flashed another nervous smile, but didn't look distraught or concerned at the thought of Fiona "fixing Daisy". Not wasting another moment, the housekeeper got to work on opening the cellar doors and corralling the animals outside, where it had evidently stopped raining. Mustang had to stop himself from choking on his own spit as he watched Fiona pluck one of the birds right out of the air before it flew outside. By the time Fiona brought the animal over to her work tables, May was shutting the cellar doors behind her. Taking their cue, Mustang and Hawkeye crowded by Fiona's sides to watch.
"This little girl," Fiona explained whilst smoothing the bird's feathers, "is a cross between a chickadee and a finch. Unfortunately, the soul of the chickadee was lost, hence the one name."
The bird, or Daisy as Fiona called it, looked none too thrilled about being manhandled. Although, under Fiona's gentle caressing, the bird relaxed as much as a wild bird was expected to. Besides that, the actual appearance of the bird was pleasantly mild in comparison to some of the other chimeras Mustang had seen in Tucker's lab. It only possessed one head and one pair of wings, while the back region was doubled. Splitting apart symmetrically, its two rumps each sported a pair of perfectly normal-looking legs. Other than its doubled backside, the little yellow bird looked passable for a regular specimen.
Fiona continued, "Now, this specimen is a bit of an exception of my usual work, but only in the way that it'll take less time. Since there's only one soul, I only have to make one body." She picked up a stack of loose-leaf paper and shuffled through it until she pulled out a page with a single circle drawn on it. "Making a body is extremely difficult and even dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. You're pulling together resources from a variety of sources, and it's easy to make a mistake if you don't have everything organized."
Did I just hear that right? Mustang thought. Did she say… make a body?
Now that Mustang didn't expect. At the exam, he'd assumed Fiona had simply brought in preexisting bodies for the animals, not… synthetic ones. Yet another mind blowing piece of information was crossing his mind and, again, it was something he never considered as a possibility. He'd heard of alchemists slapping together fake corpses to cover up their murders, but he'd never heard of someone sincerely making a functional body intended for life. That was something that bordered on playing the role of God, now that he thought about it.
Before Mustang could do it himself, Hawkeye said, "Wait!"
Fiona turned around to look at her. "Yes? What is it?"
Hawkeye bit her lip and asked, "What do you mean by making a body? How does that not violate the laws of alchemy? How is that not playing God?"
Fiona gave her a wicked grin. "Simple: I'm not asking for a soul. The one I need is already right here in front of me. All I want is the body, and that is perfectly acceptable under the laws."
The woman gave her explanation as if it didn't mean depreciating every alchemy textbook known to man. But, to Mustang, it was exactly the kind of under-the-table, loophole-exploiting solution he didn't know he was looking for. Despite the questionable morality, the thought was valid. And to think he would've been satisfied with sticking Alphonse's soul to someone's corpse. Next to the enlightened and thousands-of-times better alternative, the former idea sounded deeply disturbing.
If what Fiona was about to show them proved her technique to be feasible, Mustang would easily subscribe to the idea and, without a second thought, formulate the lead for the Elric brothers. Now that he considered all that he learned so far, he felt confident he could trust Fiona with the boys. After all, the way she handled her chimeras so kindly spoke volumes for her moral strength. Although he hadn't exposed her deep, dark secret just yet, he now felt like he didn't need to. Whatever it was, it couldn't be too bad.
"Is that all, officer?" Fiona asked, looking at Hawkeye with a tame smile this time.
His subordinate looked at him in askance. After he gave her a reassuring nod, she said, "Yes. Please continue."
"Right," she began, holding up the paper with the circle on it for them to see. "Since there are, of course, many more ways to screw up a body than an unorganized work station, I find it helpful to craft my own tailor-made circles to make things easier. See this box?" She pointed out a small box on the left hand side of the page. "That's for the blueprint of the animal- the DNA. And notice how I have things ordered in a special way? That's so I have no choice but to synthesize the organic material in a logical hierarchy, first making the bones, then the muscles, the different organ systems, and so on."
She put the paper down and picked up a different one off the top of another stack. "Aside from the complex biological processes I won't bore you with, there is also the process of transferring the soul from one body to another. For this I use my very own circle, a bridge circle if you will, to help guide the soul to the target body while still remaining in the physical world. Before I transfer the soul, though, I tattoo a blood-seal somewhere on the animal to keep the soul bound to the body. The only problems that come from this is that the soul will remain even if the body dies. But once the body decomposes enough and the seal is broken, they'll be released anyway. Kind of gruelling to think about, but I'm still working on a way to fix that."
Hawkeye looked incredibly lost. Her eyes were completely glazed over. Mustang had a hard time keeping up himself. So many things were being thrown at him, it was hard to keep track of it all. Yet, everything she was telling them made perfect sense to him. Although he was getting a little antsy to actually see it in action, he decided to let her finish her explanation. After all, he needed to know exactly what she was doing, if he ever planned on trusting her with the Elric brothers.
"Finally," she continued, picking up yet another paper with a circle on it, "after the body is complete and the soul is sealed, I use this circle to give the heart an electric shock. This sort of activates the body and lets it come alive."
She paused for a moment, as if thinking over her next words. Then she looked at Hawkeye.
"You asked how I'm not playing God by doing this. The truth is, I can't make life happen on my own. Sure, I can make a suitable body, but I can't make it move and breathe. Only a body with a soul attached to it will come alive."
Then Fiona glanced between the two of them. "Did all that make sense?"
Hawkeye wasn't afraid to say, "Not at all…"
But Mustang gave her a reassuring smile. "Yes, I think I understand how it works. Instead of trying to transmute the two animals apart, you make them new bodies. Then you seal their souls to those bodies and give them a little jump start… like a car."
"Exactly." She gave him a relieved grin. Then she turned around and began arranging her circles on the mostly empty table. "Now I'll begin the actual demonstration."
Finally, Mustang thought.
The woman took note of Daisy, who had made herself comfortable on one of the stacks of notebooks on a different table. She then proceeded to open up the many jars, jugs, and pots that contained the proper materials, carefully setting their corks and lids aside. She laid the first circle she'd shown them down in front of her, plucked a yellow feather from one of the jars, and placed it on the empty box drawing on the page.
Without wasting another second, she set her hands to the paper and began the transmutation. Green light (why was Mustang not surprised?) momentarily blinded him. When it was gone, he craned his neck to see the body of a little yellow bird in the middle of the circle. He blinked. Daisy jerked her head up to see what was going on, but didn't move.
"That's amazing!" Hawkeye breathed.
Fiona glanced back to give her a grin. "This is nothing. You should come by when I'm fixing a horse."
Mustang could feel a little color drain from his face at the thought.
The woman set the paper aside and took out the page with the blood-seal circle on it. Mustang wasn't surprised when he noticed that it looked a little bit different than Al's. Instead of an eight-pointed star, it was a normal five-point with the same swirl emblem in the middle. Maybe Fiona had never seen the Truth, and therefore had to improvise her own seal. At least, Mustang hoped that was the case. The last thing he needed was another horror story to keep him awake at night.
Apparently, Mustang had zoned out for a bit, because the next thing he knew, the tattoo was already applied to the bird's back and Fiona was getting ready to transfer the soul. Her left hand rested on Daisy, while the right rested on the next circle. Then, without a word of warning, or even a deep breath to calm her nerves, she began.
He supposed she had no nerves to calm. It ended as quickly as it started, and each of the precise, calculated movements were executed naturally, as if her body had memorized all the steps and it knew exactly what to do. This time, the green light wasn't so bright, and he actually caught a glimpse of what was going on. Once the transmutation started, a ball of light seemed to rip itself from the chimera and pass through Fiona's arm, where it traveled through her body until it dumped out onto the page from her other hand. The chimera's former body dropped dead instantly. Immediately after the light made its new home out of the paper, Fiona began a second transmutation, where the process started all over again, only this time her left hand rested on the bridge circle, and her right hand rested on the new body's seal. The light zipped through her body once again and planted itself in the seal, where the light momentarily brightened. After a few seconds, the light faded entirely, and Fiona took her hand off the seal.
This time, when she turned to pick up the last paper, he saw that her face was pale and beaded with sweat. Dark circles managed to form under her eyes. Mustang figured the back-to-back transmutations were taking it out of her. Indeed, her fixing a horse probably was a sight to see.
Finally, she laid the last paper down on the desk. She placed the unmoving body onto the circle, and started the last transmutation. This time, very little light appeared, and a few of the body's muscles jerked. When she took her hands away, Daisy shuttered and stood. In just a few seconds, the little yellow finch was happily flapping its way around the basement.
"Oh my!" Hawkeye said with a wide smile as she watched the bird. "You actually did it! It's alive!"
"That was incredible, miss Kuhn," Mustang stated sincerely, shaking Fiona's clammy hand. "I look forward to working with you in the future."
She blinked at that last comment, but gave him a small grin nonetheless.
As Mustang and Hawkeye walked back to their car, Mustang couldn't help the devilish smirk that had taken over his face. He'd confirmed his suspicions about her being able to help the Elric brothers. Mustang was positive Al would be thrilled to get out of that armor and continue their search in a real, living body. Fiona had implied that she worked on animals as big as horses before, so why not a human? She said it herself: she wasn't asking for a soul. And she used her own circles. It couldn't be considered human transmutation if you're not trying to bring the dead back to life, right?
In any case, Mustang had made his decision. He was ready to trust Fiona with his youngest subordinate. For the first time since… ever… he actually had a guaranteed lead for him.
o.O.0.O.o
After he was sure the officers were gone and out of sight, George trotted his way down the basement stairs. Still next to all her tables, Fiona sat exhausted on the floor, looking a little more worse-for-wear than usual. George planted his rump by her side.
"I see you didn't pace yourself," he quipped.
Fiona laid her hand on his back absently and stroked his fur. "I know… I thought since it was only a small bird, things would be different. But I guess I was wrong."
George wagged his tail and gave the woman's cheek a quick lick. She turned to him and gave him a warm smile. Then he let out a nervous whine after he remembered something.
"They didn't see your seal, right?"
She furrowed her brow. "I showed them the seal, yes. I had to. It's part of the process."
The dog shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Did they see your seal?"
Understanding crossed her face a moment later, and her hand instinctively drifted over to her lower back. She felt the fabric of her pointedly long doctor's coat.
"No," she decided. "No, they didn't."
At least I hope they didn't, she added mentally.
George smiled as much as he could and gave her face another reassuring lick. "I was eavesdropping at the top of the stairs. The man said he planned on working with you in the future. What do you think that means?"
She stopped stroking his back and leaned against the leg of the nearest table, giving it some thought.
"I'm not sure," she said. "I did read up on him, though. He served as a human weapon in the Ishvalan war. And it looks like he's been flying up the ranks ever since. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's got something to do with alchemy and politics."
Then she sighed. "I just hope I didn't make a mistake by doing this- joining the military."
George tilted his head. "You wanted access to those libraries, right? You said you thought it was worth it."
"I did, but… I don't know. My father wanted me to revolutionize the way people think about bio-alchemy. He wanted me to learn all that I could, and work out every issue and inefficiency of his technique. But am I risking too much? I mean, if they find out what I really am… I don't know what would happen to me. And you. And all the chimeras…"
George sat there for a few seconds to think. Then he let out the dog version of a chuckle.
"Now that I think about it, I think we're worrying too much. What's it to them if you have an alchemy circle tattooed to your ass? A lot of people have tattoos of alchemy circles. Maybe you should get some more so it doesn't look so conspicuous."
Fiona got the feeling he was just trying to make her feel better, and that he full well knew what it would mean if someone saw her seal. She appreciated the effort, though. So she reached over and started stroking his back again.
"Yeah… Maybe you're right."