Aztec Goddess: Whoa, I've been so distracted lately . . . So many new video games! Anyway, I'm shifting to present-tense in this chapter 'cause, well, it's the present now.
Greed
How long have I been here now? Weeks, months, years? You tend to lose your sense of time when you are stuck in a single cell with no clock or anything much for that matter. The only way I can tell that time truly passes is the occasional guard coming in and giving me a pile of crap to eat. No, not literally, but more or less. And that girl visited me one day. I think she slipped into my cell without anyone noticing.
"Hello, Nameless!" she greeted me. "Isn't it odd that all the other State Alchemists got promotions whereas you were thrown in here? We all practically did the same thing. So, what's gonna happen to you? Capital punishment? Torture? Or are you gonna be used as a guinea pig of some sort?" She sat herself on the floor next to me as if expecting me to tell her a great story.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I said
She gave me a blank stare. "No one else wanted to visit you, so I thought it'd be nice to come over and see how you're doing." Then she whispered, "Are the things people say about prison true?"
I shrugged. "I wouldn't know. If you take the time to look, you'll see that this is a single cell."
She looked around curiously. "Oh, so it is." Then she stared intently at me. "Wow, you look terrible. You should tie your hair back with something. But, yes! You can still pass as a girl! A really old one, though. What's your middle name?"
"You're never going to get that out of me, so quit trying."
She pouted. "You're mean! You should be nice to me! And things are getting boring, so why can't you blow yourself out of here? You have enough power, right? . . . Wait, where's the material you got from Marcoh?"
I felt around my neck. Weird; I never noticed the entire necklace was missing. "Basque must have . . . no, wait . . ."
She gasped dramatically. "You lost it! Oh, everyone's gonna be so mad at you!"
"Shut up – something happened to it . . ." I was surprised I seriously forgot for a while. But then I remembered that tattooed Ishbalan. He always seemed so out of place in my memories as if he was never really there. I thought I blew him up right away, but that was an older guy . . . That tattooed guy had something to do with the material's disappearance. Yeah, it just disappeared . . . I think.
"You don't remember, do you?" the girl said. She looked scared for some reason. "Do you remember when we first met?"
"Yeah, it's kinda hard to forget when a stranger walks into your bathroom when you're naked."
She gave me an odd look. "No . . . I've known you way before that day! You don't remember, huh? Aw, that's sad. No wonder you won't tell me your middle name. You've probably forgotten that, too!"
That was a lie. I have never forgotten and will always remember my middle name. But I told the girl, "Yeah, that's it. You saw right through me – I'm impressed!"
"You're lying!" she whined loudly. "You're so hopeless! You deny what little you actually do remember!" Then she calmed down. "But I guess it's okay to forget the stupid little meaningless things, like your time in prison here. Yeah, forget all this! But I still don't understand why you haven't tried to escape yet."
"I don't have all the ingredients, unless you'd be so kind as to lend me some of your body parts."
She giggled. "That sounded funny! But no, I would never die for you! I bet you don't even remember my name!"
"Sure I do . . . Kelsey."
"Kelly Tiramen the Esuna Alchemist!"
"Yeah, that's what I meant."
Kelly looked so flustered. "Hmph! I'm leaving. See you around if you don't die here." And, as if it were nothing at all, she stood up, opened the seemingly locked door, and left. And I actually did check to see if the door was locked. It was. How does she do that?
And that is as much as I can remember so far. It turns out I am, in fact, planned to be used as a guinea pig of some sort. All of the prisoners and I have been round up in a little room with glass as walls. Looks like that red water I grew so fond of. I sit myself in the middle of the room as the others walk around confusedly like wet chickens.
One of the glass walls slides up and Basque emerges between us and the real exit. He looks at us with disgust, placing his hands on his hips. "Amazing," he says. "After thousands of years of evolution you human beings remain as vile a creature as you ever were." He walks away with his chin up high and the wall goes back down. . . . How gay was that? Either Basque changed too much over the years, or that was not him at all.
"And who does he think he is?" one of the convicts asked.
"Some kind of high-up military muckety-muck." Another one said.
I start to laugh. Not only did that guy say a funny word, but his answer was way off. I reply, "I find it absolutely adorable that you believe everything you see. But that thing is definitely not the Brigadier General Grand."
I think that was too much for them to comprehend. Now all these stupid convicts are trying to get themselves out, screaming for help – pointless things like that. "Will you people shut up already?" I kindly ask.
"Gah, you can drop the monk act and admit you're scared," one of them rudely tells me. "Even a head case like you who's killed his own men has to realize he's helpless in here, Crimson Alchemist." Does everyone know me now?
I want to see how well these strangers know me. "You've been gossiping. But yes, I did kill my men, but do you know how?"
"Yeah, you blew them all to hundreds of little pieces with explosives." Aw, wrong answer. Now I have to kill him.
"Explosives?" I repeat as if it was an insult – which it is. "I've never relied on anything like that." I show off my transmutation circles. "Did you know that though the human body is made mostly of water, it's also comprised of small metallic particles?" I press my hands against his body and start pushing him to the wall. "Intriguing, isn't it? By reshaping them with basic organic compounds, a skillful alchemist can easily transmute a person into a human bomb." This asshole is not even listening to my beautiful speech! Instead of looking at me, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and he foams at the mouth as his body shakes violently. But this puts a smile on my face, so I am happy. "And taking into account the abundance of red water we're surrounded by, the reaction will be even greater."
I slam the convict against the wall and as expected, the red water reacts. It rushes to his body and a huge explosion commences. The others scream like dying monkeys as I casually ditch them. I throw off my shackles and walk around aimlessly, not quite knowing where I am or how to get out. Which walls should I explode then?
"Hey, that's the Crimson Alchemist!" I hear someone yell. The familiar sound of guns clicking followed. Those poor militants never expected what was coming – neither did I. A blonde man . . . wait, woman, sprang out at them. She must have come from the ceiling. How convenient! She slaughters the militants for me with her knife; decapitating, disemboweling them. I watch in amusement.
Then I hear more people coming. I turn lazily to see some freaks led by a man in black. He carries around this annoying air of self-importance the way he stands. Why the hell is he smiling at me like that? I grimace. "What?" I said. If they expect something from me because that blonde killed some retarded militants, they have nothing but pretty fireworks to look forward to.
"Hello there, I'm Greed," the man said in a funny accent. "Care to join us?"
"In what?" I said.
"I'm here to help my fellow men," he replies. "Call me a messiah, if you like." I rather not. "If you join me, you will have all you need and get all you want." But what the hell is he expecting in return?
"Well, if you insist," I said. If he does not live up to his words, I can always kill him, right?
And so Greed and the freaks – upon further inspection, I can see they are chimeras: still freaks – take me to the front of what looks like a crappy little pub in the dark side of the city. "This looks like a nice place," Greed says as he cracks his knuckles, then he tells us, "Let's bust in there and take it."
I know they will not be happy if I fight alongside them and end up blowing up everything, so I walk in last and take my place against a wall to watch. The place is packed with drunkards and others that look like convicts and they all pull out their weapons, mostly guns, as soon as Greed and the others started their assault.
It is quite an interesting show. That blonde can extend and bend her limbs in a creepy way, which is how she is crushing the necks of two guys at once. Another chimera has horns growing out of his head like some sort of animal, and he is fighting like one, too. He takes in some bullets, but does nothing more than brush the blood off. Another chimera has a sword, which I must admit he uses well. None that cross him have the time to shoot; their heads are already rolling in the pool of blood.
"Stop or I'll call the police!" the owner yells, revolver in one hand, a phone in the other. What an idiot! Has he not been watching the slaughter? I can understand why he may not hear the customers' dying over all the gunshots going off, but nothing should be affecting his sight. Oh, wait. The swordsman has just slashed his face open. His revolver goes off and several bullets shoot through Greed, who is busy trying to free his hand from another dying customer's skull.
"What the hell was that?" Greed hisses as he tries to look at his back where the bullets went through. Now this part is weird. A few moments later, the bullets plop out of his body and the holes they left disappear. "Hey, who's the bloody idiot that shot at me!" Greed manages to throw the corpse stuck to his hand to the ground and stares accusingly around the room filled mostly with dead bodies.
"Sorry, Greed," the swordsman replies. "I already killed him." He points to the corpse missing half his face.
"Oh, okay. I suppose that's alright – hey! Don't let anyone leave!" Greed yells at my direction since I am the one closest to the door. "We can't have any live witnesses!" I guess I really do have to do something. A customer tries to run past me, probably thinking I mean no harm because I have yet to fight, so I yank one of his arms and before he hits the ground, he explodes. The customer behind him gets caught in the explosion and loses parts of his upper body. He still lives, though. Greed walks up to that customer and finishes him off by crushing his skull with his bare hands. I notice that Greed's hand is completely black and his fingers now look more like knives.
"So you can fight, huh?" Greed says to me, taking the customer's black glasses away and wiping the blood off onto his pants. "You're what, an alchemist?"
"Yes, and you are . . .?" I eye his hand. It turns back to its usual shape and color. He has a small red tattoo on it; it looks like a simplistic dragon around some triangles.
"A homunculus," he replies, putting the glasses on himself. That word rings a bell, but I am still not certain, so I raise an eyebrow at him. "Y'know, a created human," he explains. "A lot of people like to say living doll, but that pisses me off. I'm basically just like you minus a soul; plus better things like a prolonged life and stuff."
Suddenly, two policemen come into the building. One of them says, "There's been reports of excessive screaming and-" he stops, shocked at the sight of so much blood and corpses. The other one begins to reach for his gun.
I get a glance from Greed, and taking it as a signal, I walk up to the policemen and rest my hand on their shoulders. "I'm so sorry you men had to see this," I lie then blow them up.
"Hey, that's great!" Greed says to me. "You mind doing that to all the other casualties – after we take all their belongings, of course."
I smile, mostly to myself. "It'll be my pleasure," I reply. I finally realize why the others were so keen on killing the people here in a decapitating manner – everything that was once theirs is now ours, including their clothes. Seeing that none of us have money yet, I guess this is the only logical thing to do. I pick out a nice crimson suit; finally, something that matches my alchemist name!
After all the looting and explosions, I walk to a backroom and see that this crappy pub is much bigger than I first though. I find myself in a corridor with dozens of rooms on either side, so I pick one out.
It feels like the time I got a room at Headquarters when I first became a State Alchemist. But my newest room is smaller and looks much older. Oh, well; at least I have my own bathroom again. I thought I would never shower in peace again! I take my sweet time getting the stench of prison food and blood off of me and getting rid of that annoying stubble on my face.
I find scissors conveniently placed inside the drawer in my room and a mirror hanging above it on a wall. After I put on my new outfit – which still has bloodstains on the shoulders, but I can clean that later – I start planning out a critical life-changing decision: what should I do with my hair?
Should I go with bangs? No, that would annoy me. What if I chop it all off? Hell no – that would be a tragic waste! But I need to look different just in case a militant who knows me waltzes into this pub. . . .Aha, a mullet – and I shall make it look good! And so I cut my hair accordingly, short in front, and I tied the rest back with ribbon I found. I am now convinced that this is no normal pub; there are chains, cuffs, and, um, lubricant in this drawer. I guess I have to do a lot of cleaning before I can sleep peacefully here.
As I spike up my hair the way I want it, I sense something odd in the room, and I have a good idea on what it is. How long has she been here? I turn towards the door and say, "You need to learn how to not walk into someone's room without permission." As expected, I see Kelly by the door.
She ignores me and says, "Wow, you look so pretty! And yet your look has changed so much! I'm so happy you escaped from prison!"
"May I ask how the hell you keep on finding me?" I wanted to comment on her looks, but she looks no different than when I first met her. The saying must be true: women stop aging after a certain age.
"I followed the sound of explosions," she replies, then starts walking around freely in my room. "That guy Greed I met in the main room helped you, right? He's pretty, too!"
"Then go bug him." I motion her back towards the door.
She blushes. "I can't do that – I already saw a girl with him! Aw, and he seems so nice! I mean, he gave you a place to live and all these new things." She sighs and stares off into space. "He must be a great guy . . ."
"Listen, as much as I absolutely love hearing this crap, you should be telling Greed that." I nod towards the door, hoping my message is not too subtle.
She stares at me right in the face and suddenly has this look like she struck gold. "There's an eyelash on your cheek!" she practically cheers. Okay, I cannot say I expected that.
I wipe the eyelash off my cheek and it stuck to my finger. "Here, you can have it." I grab her hand and wipe the eyelash onto her palm.
Kelly manages to look even crazier when she squeals with glee and holds my eyelash close to her heart. She closes her eyes and says, "I wish for Nameless to one day be as kind and caring as Greed." Then she holds the eyelash close to her mouth, blows it off her finger, and watches it fall to the ground. She sees my odd expression and says, "What? You've never wished upon an eyelash before?" She squeals happily again and bounces like a girly-girl out my room.
I lock my door and do not even bother to check twice. It seems as though the laws of locked doors do not apply to Kelly. Maybe she is a homunculus? I never thought of that before, but opening locked doors sounds too retarded to be a special power. But it will explain why she still looks so young and she has told me once that she can regenerate . . .
Aztec Goddess: Sigh . . . this took longer than expected. And I really wanna finish this by New Years! I've already got an idea for my next fic . . . or maybe fics?