I woke up in a start, clasping my chest. Wait, why was I still dressed? Ah, of course. I had just dozed off... I yawned, and checked my clock. I still felt so tired but somehow so awake, it was only twelve twenty, so I had been asleep for just under five hours. I got up and made myself coffee at the stove.
What to do next? I could go to work... but the thought of seeing Mustang hurts too much. How was I going to deal with him? How was I going to talk with Edward and Alphonse? With Nina? With any of my co-workers... I can't stand it, I can't stand to think about it. I shoved it out of my mind, what was the point? I finished my coffee and glanced out the window. The drizzle had continued, light and scattered. My arm twinged when I looked at it, way to forcibly remind me of last night. Last night...
Wait, what day is it? Hold on, what day is it? I checked the calendar, and wracked my brains. If Tucker was supposed to be arrested this morning, that would mean Scar would attack Edward and Alphonse sometime today, and if that was the case... well, no. Maybe it wasn't, after all, Ed and Al were in the hospital at the moment, weren't they? Quite protected, doubt Scar would go there... unless.
Just to make sure, then. I put on a raincoat and went to the public phone booth outside, I inserted a coin and talked to the operator, requesting the hospital.
"Hello, sir?" The receptionist answered.
"Ah, yes. Excuse me, ma'am. I'm with the military... Zählsargeant Eric Richter... I need to know if Edward Elric is currently under guard."
"Oh! Just a moment sir..." I heard some shuffling on the end of the line, "...Durant...E...Elric, Edward, here we are! Checked our twenty minutes ago."
...
"I-I see... thank you, ma'am."
I slammed the phone to rest, hanging-up abruptly. Edward, you stubborn idiot. Edward, you absolute moron. Edward, everything Winry ever said about you is completely correct. You utter piece of—
I took off running, ignoring the pain in my arm.
Mustang stared out of the window aimlessly. He was irritated, to say the least. Doubly so because he didn't have Lt. Hawkeye nearby to counsel him, part of him wished he hadn't sent her out on a mission. The other part of him knew the results of her mission were critical.
He leaned forward onto his clasped hands, elbows resting on the table. It was hard for him to think of a solution to his conundrum, of how to deal with Eric Richter. The Colonel knew he had made a mistake in giving the boy such keys so quickly, he cursed himself, he had set up a dangerous thorn in his side the Führer could use to keep in check. Worst of all, his reputation was tied to him.
Mustang lost himself in his own thoughts, so much so he did not notice the door opening.
"Colonel!" Mustang looked up from his brooding, and met Lt. Havoc's gaze, which was frantic and wild, "sir, we got a phone call from a civilian. The chief—Fullmetal, he's being pursued by a man matching Scar's description!" The Colonel's eyebrows rose for a split second, before hardening into a glare as he shot out of his seat.
Mustang slammed his desk, "all cars out immediately! This is priority one, protect Edward Elric and kill the man known as Scar!"
Panting, I slowed slightly, and then willed my legs to kick back into gear. The Elrics were in danger, the Elrics would be under attack soon, Edward was injured, he wouldn't be as useful in a fight and Scar would make mincemeat of him. I'm such an idiot! How could I let this happen?! I ran around the streets, loudly calling for their names as I went. My lungs quickly began to fail me, and my legs protested my continued rapid pace.
I couldn't keep it up anymore, damn it. I rested my hands on me knees and doubled over. First Tucker, now this... why hadn't I planned for this? Oh, I knew why. I was a stupid, arrogant kid trying to play God with the fate of other people's lives. I deserved every single kick in the balls I was getting. Still, I couldn't let Edward die because I got him hurt! I took a deep breath, and pulled myself up. I had to find him, so I started running again. I needed to keep him safe, so I started calling out to him again.
"What the hell?! Of all times!" Havoc swore, looking over the steering wheel at the mess in front of them. A multi-car pile-up blocked the road and obstructed the military vehicle's path. Roy cursed under his breath, looked around for an alternate route. As he scanned the horizon, he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye up above, on top of a fifth story rooftop. But just as he turned his attention to it, it was gone. He didn't have time to ponder the strange figure before Havoc called for his attention. "Sir," the lieutenant said, "I'm unsure what to do..."
Mustang considered his options, before coming to a determination. He opened his door, letting himself get wet from the rain. Turning his head to Havoc, he ordered, "order all units to proceed on foot if we have to—we don't have a second to spare!"
"W-what the hell is with this guy!" Edward complained, leaping out of the way as he transmuted a pillar of rock from out of the street to strike his opponent. The man simply slammed his hand into it, blue electricity sparking, and the pillar blew into bits as the man advanced. Fortunately for the elder Elric, the younger interceded with a sharp charge and a shoulder bash into the man, who took it glancingly and rolled away.
The man was white-haired and dark-skinned. His eyes were hidden behind shades, and he brandished his right arm like a weapon, slowly walking towards the brothers. "Your use of alchemy is a sin against Ishvalla—it cannot go unpunished."
Edward snorted, "no thanks! I've had my fair share of cults—and God for that matter!" He pressed his hands against a wall, causing a rectangular wall to erupt and snake around the approaching man, attempting to strike him in the back while his attention was fixated on the obstacle in front. Impressively, he anticipated the trick and turned around to confront the approaching threat—only to let out a grunt as he tripped. He looked down to see his foot caught in a newly formed sand pit.
Alphonse looked up from his hastily drawn alchemical circle, "I got him!" He cheered. The wall smashed against the Ishvallan, leaving the brothers triumphant. Edward took a few deep breaths, before sighing. After a moment of silence, he stepped forward.
"Well, that's the end of that, I think." He turned his gaze towards Al, and then looked around the street, abused and wrecked by the usage of both creative and destructive alchemy. The blonde scratched the back of his head with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah... something tells me I'll have to clean this up later..."
Alphonse laughed, before suddenly stopping. He listened carefully, attempting to parse out a sound amongst the steady din of rain hitting his empty suit of armor. He picked up a sound, a sound that sounded like digging. Terrified, he called out, "brother!"
But it was too late.
The sinister man erupted from the ground in an explosion of rock and leaped upward. Catching Edward unawares, he caught hold of his auto-mail arm with his right hand. Electric blue shining, and the metal contraption blew up. The boy coughed blood, and fell to the ground.
"Brother!" Alphonse yelled, rushing forward with a battle cry. The man dodged to the side, his hand scraping the suit of armor's side as it rushed by. The subsequent reaction obliterated the suit's waist, nearly severing it's torso from it's legs completely. The suit toppled and slammed.
"AL!" Edward yelled, crawling forward with his one good arm.
"The sand-trap was an interesting maneuver... it caught me off-guard." The man stated, before looking at the boy on the ground. For the first time Edward caught a glimpse of his eyes, blood-red, and full of hate. It froze the blonde on the spot. "Unfortunately for you," Scar continued, "my right hand can destroy anything." Without another word, he walked up to stand right in front of the cowering teen.
"EDWARD!" Alphonse cried out, his injury leaving him helpless on the ground.
The rain pattered down on the battered street. Not a soul in sight save the three combatants. The man stood above the boy without moving, his eyes once again hidden behind his shades. "I'll give you a moment to pray." The man stated calmly.
Edward swallowed, and hung his head before him. "I'm sorry... there's no God I feel like praying too," he muttered softly. The man regarded the boy silently, and the boy continued, "am I the only one you're after? My brother Al, are you going to kill him too?"
"If anyone stands in my way I will eliminate them... but right now I only have business with you, Fullmetal Alchemist." He was calm, collected. In his mannerisms he emulated a judge passing a sentence rather than a serial killer taking pleasure in his killings.
"All right then... promise me..." Edward grit his teeth, "promise me you won't hurt my brother."
"Ed..." Alphonse muttered in confusion.
The man dipped his head. "I promise." He began to close the gap between them.
Alphonse pounded the ground, "Edward, what do you mean?! Hey, what are you doing?! Get up!" He yelled desperately, only able to watch as the man stretched out his hand. "No, please don't do it! DON'T KILL HIM!" The man did not respond. "RUN AWAY! GET OUT OF THERE! EDWARD!" The man's hand was almost touching to boy's hair, and Alphonse let out a guttural yell. "NO!"
"STOP RIGHT THERE!" A voice, unheard as of then, roared, and the man froze. Edward's eyes widened, and all three looked at the newcomer.
Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I doing? Where the hell was Roy? Everything's going wrong, he should've been here to interrupt this by now!
My thoughts were running wild as I watched Edward lose his auto mail arm. The fight was playing out differently than it had in any version of the story I'd seen. For a second it almost looked like Scar had lost. But no, we couldn't be so lucky. Instead it ended up like it was supposed to. With one exception.
Their back-up hadn't arrived.
My mind raced, why wouldn't Roy be here? There was no good reason... that is... unless...
"A little birdie told me..."
I attempted to shake Tucker's voice from out of my head, but I was unable to do so. The birdie... that could only be the interloper, the threat I was supposed to face on Truth's behalf. But what disturbed me was that Tucker had some how found out about who I was—who I really was—before he died. The interloper knew, the question was how. I must've been getting tailed—perhaps since I joined the military, perhaps earlier. There was no way of knowing.
I watched was Scar walked towards a defeated Edward, about to end his life. As I hid behind a street-corner, I knew what I had to do. I didn't grab my gun, why didn't I grab my gun? Crash-camp taught me always to have a gun on me at all times—Dad taught me to always have a gun on me at all times—so why didn't I have a gun on me, damn it? No guns, no knives, no strange knife Truth gave me—shit, that would've been useful against Scar's arm... but I left it in the rubble of Tucker's house. How was I going to fight the Ishvallan super-soldier monk with a nuclear right arm without a weapon?
It was in that moment, that very moment, I was hit with a strange feeling of clarity I had not had in awhile. I felt my mind clear and everything slow—suddenly some things in life stopped mattering. Odds? Who cares? Chance of survival? A joke. Weapons? Who needs 'em? Perhaps it was an adrenaline rush, perhaps it was a God-given moment of enlightenment, but I felt my inhibitions toward combat lessen. I jumped out into the street and took off running towards Scar.
"STOP RIGHT THERE!" I roared as I rushed the man, catching his attention away from Edward. As I came within three meters of him, he entered a fighting stance. I recognized his strategy as time seemed to slow, he widened his legs and bent his knees, he prepared his right arm to block by holding it forward. But that single adaptation of his style to suit his alchemical power was an inaccuracy—the words of my father and images of knowledge inexplicably in my head surfaced.
"Eric, you have to practice your unarmed combat—if you can't fight an armed opponent unarmed, you won't be able to fight them armed." It seemed a stupid principle to recall, but dad had meant it. As I stepped into Scar's range I knew I had a strategy, and it was all dependent on one thing—complacency. Not my own, but Scar's.
I dove my right foot forward, sliding against the wet street as I ducked my upper body down to my waist. Scar attempted to intercept me with his right hand, but I did not reel backward—how could I? Instead, I stepped forward with my left, gladly rushing headfirst into the right hand of destruction. As my weight shifted to my left leg, my body rolled along with it underwards, going fast enough to dodge his outstretched arm—and the twisting of my weight allowed me to prepare the perfect punch to his ribs. I could practically feel his mouth open in surprise as my right fist smashed against his lower chest, forcing him backward as I shifted my weight again to the right, rolling my weight into my left punch to under his elbow. He attempted to grab me with his right hand, but I dropped to the ground and rolled on my shoulder, coming to stand on just left side a scant few feet away.
He stumbled, and took a few quick breaths. I could not relent, I could not let up, the longer he was awake and figuring out why I was scoring hits the more likely he would be able to counter it to achieve my grizzly end. I dashed forward, keeping my center of gravity low as I leaned my head forward. Again, he whirled around to throw his outstretched right palm at me, and again, I managed to weave around it—this time I scored a hit on his jaw with a fainted left into a hook to the right. I couldn't risk a full-blown kick as they took too long compared to Scar's ability to tap them with even a finger of his right hand. Instead, I scooted away and dodged, constantly trying to move behind the Ishvallan.
He grunted after that assault, "anyone who stands in my way... stands in the way of divine judgement!" I watched as he slammed his right hand into the ground.
I forgot he could do that.
I felt myself thrown off my feet as the earth exploded out from under me, sending me careening on my back. My instincts kicked in and allowed me to roll as I landed, barely avoiding the follow-up at from scar, who's right-hand missed me by a few inches... that was way too close.
I panted as I stood up. He was already running towards me, seemingly recovered from my earlier blows. I could've sworn when I realized why. He was older and more experienced, because of that he possessed far more stamina than my lungs did. I dodged a few of his attacks, and noticed he started throwing it regular strikes with his left hand. The jig was up, he had finally realized why he hadn't been able to respond earlier.
"Guys with knives like to get cocky, they forget the basics and just start waving their knives around and forget about all other parts of their body—take advantage of that." The weapon was different, but the principle was the same—Scar was used to using his BS insta-kill on everyone, to the point his more holistic combat training had suffered as a result. Now that he was acting less reliant on his hand of destruction, he was beginning to hit me around a bit with his left by forcing me to deflect and dodge his right. I grunted as he punched me in the abdomen, the cheek, and my upper chest. Shit, it really wasn't good at all. The longer I stayed in this situation the more likely I was going to kick the bucket.
Wait a second.
Kick.
Kicking.
If his right hand was distracted...
"And remember son—the most important target of all—"
"Is a man's..." I tensed up as the Ishvallan rushed towards me again, his right hand approaching me rapidly. I threw a punch into his arm as a distraction before swinging my left leg upward. "...BALLS!" I yelled as my kick made solid contact. Scar doubled over with a loud grunt of pain, and I quickly capitalized on this by grabbing his bent-over head and slamming my knee into his face, causing him to be thrown backward onto the ground.
I backed away, and leaned against a wall in exhaustion. A glance over to the Elrics assured me they were safe. They had successfully scooted out of the way towards the alley where they were supposed to go. Reluctantly, I forced my attention back to Scar, who was slowly rising up from his knees. Shit, the guy wouldn't stop, he had enough endurance to get gored by a bull and keep fighting.
"You're a good fighter." I blinked, what? I felt the urge to slap myself as I looked at Scar, who simply nodded towards me and continued speaking, "you're not an alchemist. But you are a soldier... and for that, you're complicit." He stood up to his full height, pushed the bridge of his shades up with a finger, and then stared at me.
When I watched the show, I never really considered how the characters felt about Scar. Some were a bit guilt-ridden, distrustful, or in Winry's case, absolutely hate-filled. But standing here, in the present, meeting the vengeful monk eye-to-eye? I was terrified. His slow, deliberate steps, his hidden eyes that I knew were a hateful red underneath, his right hand always stretched out ominously, like a gunfighter preparing to draw. Knowing what he'd done, what he could do, with that hand of his was enough to make me pale. I was hurt, my adrenaline was shot, and I was pretty sure I was going to die.
So, I decided to stall for time.
"Complicit for what?" I asked. Now, I knew the answer, but nobody else did. Unfortunately, Scar didn't even flinch and just kept walking forward. But aha! He began to speak.
"This world was made perfect by God. Alchemists change the natural into the unnatural... Twist things out of their true form... They sin by defacing God's creation." He held up of one of his hands and tightened it into a fist, "I am an instrument of divine judgement!"
He quickened his pace. I remembered that monologue he was originally supposed to give it to Mustang. It made me wonder if he practiced his speeches mentally or simply delivered them off the cuff. No matter the case, I frowned at him. Something he said bothered me.
"Tell me, is heating water a sin?" I asked.
Scar stopped in his tracks, "what?"
"Heating water at a high enough temperature causes evaporation, which turns water into smoke." I continued, "it's a chemical reaction. Alchemy triggers chemical reactions like that, that's how it works, fundamentally... so tell me," I tilted me head, "if it's a sin to use alchemy to change water into steam, why isn't it a sin to use fire to heat up a kettle of water? That also makes steam."
Scar stared silently for a moment. I couldn't believe it, I actually got him to stop! But as soon as I thought that, he abruptly shook his head, "no. To use the naturally gained elements that all have common access too... that is within what God ordained for humanity. When I heat a kettle, I do so with fire. When alchemists heat water with their sinful art—"
"—it's the same exact reaction." Edward! I turned my head to see the boy standing, clutching his stump of a shoulder. "Heat is just energy, and energy is still used, it's just in an invisible form. Alchemy is just a science, like any other."
Scar grunted, "tell me, how many other of the sciences use inexplicable drawings to twist a human into something inhuman?" Edward's mouth opened to respond, but Scar cut him off. "Human transmutation... even the words make me sick. The ability not only to twist the earth to the unnatural—but the very life of a man." He growled, his fists twitching, "can any of you truly say to me, that this is natural? That this is just like any other science?"
Edward kept his mouth shut. As did I. My pseudo-scientific rant did have it's purpose though, it bought time. As the rain still lightly drizzled around us, I caught a glimpse of what I had been waiting for in the corner of my eye and involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief.
Scar spoke again, "just as I thought..." he shook his head, "none of you can answer." He took a step forward towards me.
CRACK!
A gunshot. Finally, we were back on track. Scar and I turned our heads to follow the sound and found none other than Colonel Mustang, flanked by a unit of men. Oh, thank God they were here. I was terrified at the prospect of having to play keep away with Scar's hand of death again.
"That's enough!" The Colonel's voice rang loud and clear over the soft patter of the rain. I caught the gaze of Havoc standing right by him, and he gave me a wink. I smiled, but then frowned. Where was Hawkeye? She was supposed to be here. "I heard most of that speech as I made my way over here... that seeing as how you," he nodded towards Scar, "are our prime suspect in the murders of seven other state alchemists... well, that's no longer just a suspicion." He stashed the gun away in his holster, and continued, "tell me, if you hate all alchemy that much, why have you only targeted state alchemists so far? There's plenty of alchemists around you could kill."
Scar oriented his body towards the Colonel, "if you insist on stopping me, I'll just eliminate you too."
The men glared at one another, before the Colonel gave his signature, smug smirk. "Oh, you will, eh?" He tightened his gloves.
Then it hit me. Hawkeye had left on an 'out of town' mission yesterday.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
Because now...
"Colonel!" I yelled.
"Stay out of this." Mustang order sharply. No, no, no you dumbass, your gloves are wet and your handler isn't here! I moved towards him, but my legs were like jelly.
"Those gloves have alchemical symbols on them..." Scar observed, "who are you?"
"The one and only Flame Alchemist, Colonel Roy Mustang!" He smirked. Jackass, he was a total jackass and that was the only word for it. He was totally showing off and it was going to get him killed.
Scar's hand twitched, and he took a step forward, "I never thought I'd see the day... that those who turned from the path of God would come to face judgement of their own free will." He picked up speed, "it is a glorious day!"
Roy opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn't paying attention. My legs felt like iron as I attempted to run towards the monk. My face, chest, and legs hurt from fighting, my arm burned from the pain of the electrical burns. I grit my teeth, and jumped.
Mustang finished his spiel, and snapped his fingers. As expected, it let out a small 'poof' and the spark went out with a whimper. Scar lunged his right hand forward, and I jumped onto Scar's back. I pulled him away from Mustang just in time to save his face from being obliterated. I tightened my arm-lock against his neck, restraining him as I grappled him. But then he stopped struggling, and went weightless.
Clever son of a bitch.
He fell and I fell with him, and as I landed against the harsh concrete I felt his head burrow into my solar plexus. The air left my lungs and all of my strength evaporated as I gasped in pain, struggling for air. He rolled on top of me and plunged his right hand downward at my face. I threw up a kick to his chest.
But his index finger brushed my eye.
When someone pricks a balloon, it pops immediately, a tiny tap leading into a huge explosion. I imagine my eye was like a balloon, and I have never suffered more pain in my life.
I screamed, my hands went to my eye, covering it up as the deep, stabbing pain arced all the way back into my brain. I couldn't hear anything, and I couldn't see anything as my other eye was shut tight in pain. I felt liquid flowing all over my fingers. Oh God, it felt horrible, and all I could do was pray and whimper for it to stop. Why was it so horrible, why did it have to be that way?
I didn't register anything around me, I heard some people yell, maybe? But everything was dark, I couldn't open my eyes—my eye? Pain, all I could do was scream. I felt myself slipping, I couldn't bear to be awake, I rolled over instinctually, but then I felt nothing. I opened my eye just barely before I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was Scar hitting the ground with his hand while... was that Armstrong? Stood over him. Then I everything gave way beneath me, I fell, and I lost consciousness.
AN: More to come soon.