Bandit- I'm sorry for such a long wait. I have an American History project due, and that along with tennis and pit orchestra has really sucked all of my time. So I'm not losing interest, I'm just waiting for school to get out. Savor this chapter, because I probably won't update until June. (that's when I get out of school. OH YEAH!)
Ed- You're just making excuses.
Bandit- And you're short. What's your point?
Ed- ARE YOU CAL-
Roy- Can we PLEASE get to the story?
Disclaimer- I don't have a genie or a time machine. 'nough said.
(A/N) This chapter will have some action and a smidgen of shounen ai! Hoorah!
/You know what you have to do…/
'This isn't apart of the plan!'
/Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. You know that. /
'Yes… but she's--'
/Don't back out now. She shouldn't have told…/
'…'
"Good. I'm glad you understand."
Jean Havoc slipped outside for the third time before Hawkeye could have a chance to make an attempt on his life. Because of high tensions, the office wasn't the safest place to have a quick smoke. And the fact it would aggravate Fury to no end. That guy had no lung capacity.
Havoc felt a quick blush land on his cheeks and the mention of his comrade. 'God, I really need a smoke if I'm taking what Shayla said seriously.' The thought didn't go away, though.
He sighed loudly to himself and withdrew his smokes from his pocket, and plucked one out. Long, nimble fingers rolled the slender cigarette around and another sigh escaped. Havoc made no move to light it.
'Now I can't even smoke with that little guy on my mind. What's goin' on here? It never bothered me before…' The tall man shook his head in depression and replaced the smoke back in the packet. Smoking didn't seem to be the answer right now, even if it worked in the past. 'I like women, not men. Cain's nice but so not my type… right?'
"Gosh, don't look like someone raped your turtle." (1)
Havoc whipped around and found an amused Shayla staring at him with that ever-present grin on her face.
"Jeez lady, you scared the shit out of me," he exclaimed.
The short woman made a show of circling around and looking at Havoc's rear end before replying, "Well, your uniform's still blue, so I doubt it."
Still too startled to come back with a witty reply, Havoc shook his head and mock glared at her.
"What? No come back? Are you sick or just humoring me? Probably sick, since I just saw you examine a cigarette and then put it back without a least attempting to light it."
"Shut up and leave."
"Nope. Just pissy." Shayla kept staring at Havoc and waited patiently for him to crack under her stare. She took a bit of delight in watching him squirm under her gaze. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong."
"Well, then we can stay outside 'til Ed snaps and kills the Colonel," Havoc stated before turning away. This statement surprised both of them. Shayla wasn't used to Havoc being so stubborn, and Havoc was shocked to find he really did want Shayla to leave him alone. It was her fault he kept thinking these disturbing thoughts.
"We have three hours then." Shayla tried to lighten the mood, but could see Havoc clearly wasn't into it today. And for some reason, she understood that some of the blame rested on her.
'What the hell did I say that got him riled up?' She closed her eyes, racking her brain and thought of their conversations. 'Let's see… There was this morning at the briefing, but he seemed fine then. And afterward, I talked to him about… oops.'
Feeling guilty, the brown haired woman opened her orange eyes and looked at Havoc's back. His shoulders stood stiff and she knew her presence was not welcome at the moment. 'I really need to learn that men prefer denial. He's probably trying to convince himself he's not gay.' Shayla mentally snorted.
"All right. I'll leave, but you should take a good look at how you feel before you try to write it off. Don't you pull a Mustang on me, please. I'm having enough trouble with him at the moment anyway." She held back a laugh when Havoc twisted his neck so quickly he got a cramp and clutched the abused muscle in pain, his features scrunching up. "What? Of course I would know. I pointed it out."
"Yes, but…" Havoc trailed off, not knowing how form the words on his mind. "… Do you really believe that me and him…?"
Shayla shrugged. "I won't tell you anything. I just said don't be so hasty. Think it through, then come and find me when you want to talk. Oh, and I'd get back inside. I passed Hawkeye and she mumbled something about paperwork, smoking bastards, and target practice."
This new bit of information penetrated the depths of Havoc's confused brain, causing him to run back into Central like the time Hughes tried to get him to baby sit Elicia.
Trailing much slower, Shayla returned inside as well. She really didn't want to rush back in, since it still wasn't time to wake Edward up yet. She'd rather let him sleep for a while. The mission would take a long time to complete; she understood that much. Sending Mustang and the others off for a nap would have been a good idea as well. They would all need it.
"It seems I keep running into you." A familiar voice woke Shayla from her thoughts. She saw Hawkeye standing in front of her, gun in hand. Shayla felt the need to take a big step backwards. "Have you seen Havoc?"
"Sorry. I haven't seen him in a while now." Shayla had no desire to see Havoc killed, even if he should do his paperwork. The man had loads on his mind now, thanks to her.
"I see…" Hawkeye eyed the short woman, not entirely sure whether to trust her or not. Havoc was closer to the Angel Alchemist than she was. "I suppose I'll continue my search."
"Good luck with that." Shayla stepped around Hawkeye and continued down the long corridor.
"Angel Alchemist." Being called by her second name stopped her in an instant and she made a face.
"You can call me Shayla. That title is way too formal."
"Shayla then. Weren't you to accompany Hughes to Summers' house?"
"I was, but then I thought he'd be fine on his own." She shrugged her shoulders. Even though the real reason for her staying was to take care of Edward and the others, she didn't feel comfortable with telling Hawkeye. "He's a big man and can take care of himself."
Hawkeye's brown eyes darkened a shade. Shayla had the distinct feeling that she didn't agree with her. "I don't mean to speak out of line, but I'd feel better if you were with him."
Now Shayla felt her own eyes narrow. "You don't think he can handle it?"
"I never said that." Hawkeye no longer felt the need to continue the conversation, so she nodded quickly and continued on her way.
'Well, that was strange.' She tried to laugh it off inside, but didn't reach anywhere. The fake laughter died somewhere in her chest. A feeling of uneasy settled in the pit of Shayla's stomach and would not go away. 'Great. Now I'm paranoid. Just what I needed. Thanks a lot, bitch.' Deciding on a quick walk to Mustang's office, Shayla fought to get rid of the sense of dread that followed her through the hallway.
Hughes stepped on the front porch and prepared to knock. Not for the first time that day did he wish he could skip work and take Elicia to the park. It was a nice day; sunny and little humidity in the air. It constantly mocked Hughes.
'But duty calls.' Hughes mentally sighed and took a quick look around him.
The house that stood in front of him was far from shabby, about two stories high with a lovely paint job of red and brown hues. The grass was neatly cut, without a trace of weeds anywhere, and a giant oak tree towered over the roof nearby. There were a number of windows, and even though he couldn't see the interior yet, Hughes would bet his paycheck the inside looked better than the outside.
'His wife must be loaded, because I know how much a rookie State Alchemist is paid.'
Hughes began to knock, but before his fist reached to door, it opened to reveal a young man with red hair dressed in a loose shirt and sweats. Despite his causal outfit, he held himself high as if in a business suit. Blue eyes blinked at him and Hughes wanted to flinch. Those eyes; they appeared… empty, like the life had been sucked right out of them. A shudder ran along his spine.
'I really wish Shayla didn't bail on me today. I could use some company right about now.'
"Mark Summers, I presume?" Hughes stuck out his hand. Mark stared at it for a moment before accepting and giving the outstretched hand a brisk, but firm shake.
"You presume correct." The voice sounded smooth and almost liquid-like, which surprised Hughes. It was a voice of a seasoned man who'd seen many things and knew how to manipulate the world around him. One of excellent upbringing and an exceptional education. Hughes felt slightly outclassed.
"I'm sorry to bother you on such a beautiful day."
"You mustn't be sorry. I called you here." A smile played on Mark's lips, one that didn't reach past his nose. "But we must talk inside. I'd like you to meet my wife Angie. She prepared some food for us to eat while we talk."
"Of course." Hughes felt relief. Maybe the wife would put him more at ease. He certainly wasn't feeling it now.
Summers stepped to the side and disappeared from view while Hughes cautiously walked in. All the lights appeared to be off, and the drapes closed tight to prevent any sunlight from entering. Shadows danced across the furniture and walls in what he guessed was the living room. He felt like something would come right out and drag him off. 'Something right out of a haunted house,' he thought. Another shudder.
"Forgive me for the lack of sun. My wife is pregnant and the light aggravates her." The voice brushed against Hughes' ear and he fought the urge to bring out his knives.
He turned and faced Mark with a grin. "I know what you mean. I still remember when my wife was pregnant with my daughter. Everything upset her, including me." He let out a chuckle, not because it was funny but it filled the immense silence that, if possible, echoed around him. He felt a bit crowded.
But there was another noise. A bit like scratching.
'Great. There are rats. Shayla owes me a beer when I see her.'
Another fake smile showed up on Mark's face. His eyes not longer held that empty feel, but a cunning, predatory look replaced it. Hughes didn't consider it an improvement.
'Make that a pack. Ice cold.'
"This way, if you please." Summers walked… well, more like glided to the stairs previously hidden on the right. Hughes followed uneasily. The whole house seemed like it was watching him, and Mark's lack of conversation wasn't helping.
"So… where is your wife at the moment?" Hughes desperately to fill in the silence. And that smell… Like Shayla when she went on one of her famous cleaning escapades. 'God, I hate the smell of bleach.' But there was something else that bothered him… and it wasn't the bleach.
"Oh, she's somewhere. The stupid fucker probably got lost on her way to the bathroom."
Hughes almost tripped on the stairs.
'Did I hear correctly, or am I so spooked my ears are playing tricks on me?'
He stopped his attempt to make conversation, and the journey up the stairs continued in silence.
When they reached the top, Mark made a sharp turn to the left and down a long corridor with one crusty and splintered looking door at the end. Hughes obediently followed him. The scratching got louder.
The door had a number of locks on it, and Mark reached inside his shirt pocket to pull out an old, rusted key.
"This house must be pretty old if you use that type of key," Hughes commented.
"Yes. The house was built in 1743, when my grandfather was a boy. It's a family heirloom, in a sense." (2) The key was pushed into the lock, and turned with a little effort on Mark's part. The door, to Hughes' surprise, opened on well-oiled hinges and fell back to show a pitch-black room. No surprise there.
"Your wife is in here?"
"No. I will bring her in here shortly, but for now, let's talk a bit." Mark walked in first and flipped a switch. Light flooded the room and a table with three chairs stood right in the middle. Other than a picture on the wall, there were no other furnishings. All was quiet… except for the scratching noise.
If anything, this room scared him more than the darkness of the other rooms. Everything was so exposed. Hughes could count the cracks in the wall if he really wanted too.
He took a few short steps to the picture hanging on the wall directly opposite of the door. It portrayed a young woman with light blond hair, almost white. The face was heart shaped, and beautiful doe eyes stared back at Hughes, almost mesmerizing him.
'Damn…'
Almost as if she knew what he was thinking, a slight smile showed on her radiant face.
But that smell… the room must have been dipped in bleach or something. 'Probably to clean up for my arrival.'
Hughes glanced back at the face. Now that he thought about it, there was something weird going on…
The scratching had stopped.
"I know this room seems… bland." Hughes hadn't noticed Summers was watching his expression. Hell, he hadn't noticed the man had left and returned with refreshments. He must be losing his touch in this old house…"But it is the only room I will allow the light to be on. Annie has sensitive eyes and I don't wish to bring any strain on her during the pregnancy."
"It's no trouble," Hughes said quickly. "It's not like I came here for tea and cookies. I understand this is no social call."
"I'm glad we see… eye to eye." Mark did another phony smile. He motioned to the chairs. "And now, we talk. Ask me anything you wish." He paused.
Hughes took a seat and waited for Mark to do the same. The other placed the food on the table and when they were both seated, Hughes started his interrogation.
"Do you have rats?"
That was not a question Mark expected. "Excuse me?"
"There's been a scratching noise, and it's loudest in this room."
Mark shrugged one shoulder, not interested in the topic. "I would not be surprised. This house is old as I told you."
"Just wondering." Hughes cleared his throat. "Okay, would you please just start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened. And I mean everything, even if you have to tell me you had a bowel movement while you were out."
Summers nodded. "As you already know, I went out for a quick drink. Annie was… suffering from a mood swing, and I thought it best if I made myself scarce." His blue eyes focused on Hughes' green ones. "You mentioned your wife had been pregnant, so I'm sure you understand."
And Hughes did understand. His usually mild tempered wife had caused him a number of hangovers when carrying Elicia, many of which he hadn't taken a drink but wished he had.
"But that is beside the point. I went to the pub on the West Side of town for a beer. Just to cool the nerves. I stayed for maybe thirty minutes, nursing one bottle, before deciding to head back."
"Sorry to interrupt," Hughes interjected, "but did you walk or catch a ride there?"
"I walked. It's not that far from here and I needed the exercise."
"Okay. Keep going."
"I was walking back when I felt someone following me. You know that persistent tingle you get on the back of your neck when you sense something wrong? That's the feeling I had. I resumed walking, trying different alley ways to shake him off, but he trailed right behind me. In the end, I made a foolish mistake and went into a dead end."
Hughes nodded his head. "I guess you thought you could take him, since you are a State Alchemist."
"Naturally. I turned and I asked him why he was following me, and he didn't answer. Just attacked with tremendous speed. His hands wrapped around my throat and for a while I couldn't breathe. If not for my alchemy, I would have died right then."
"I'm sorry I keep interrupting you, but exactly what type of alchemy do you use?"
"They call me the Nightingale Alchemist."
"You sing?"
The joke either flew over Mark's head, or he didn't find it very amusing. Hughes once again reminded himself to shut up and just listen.
"…No, I don't sing much. But I got the name from the fact I can soothe my enemy."
"…I'm not sure I understand…"
"To fight an enemy, a certain level of some emotion, whether it be hate or love, is needed," Mark said. He looked down at Hughes, even if Hughes was considerably taller. "All I do is take this feeling away, leaving my opponent almost sedated. If it is a bully, take away their jealousy and they are left confused and helpless. A mother fighting for her child, take away the love and hate directed at you and she forgets her reason for fighting in the first place."
"So basically… you remove the emotion that causes your enemy to fight."
"Precisely."
"Sounds more like magic to me."
"Not really. It deals with brain waves and signals. This array," Mark held out his left arm to show an elaborate array made of triangles and circles on the forearm, "allows me to shoot a signal of my own into a person's brain. It would look like a lightning bolt emerging from my arm. This signal then replaces the hostile signal, disabling the emotion." (3)
"And can you replace an emotion of your own?"
The question momentarily surprised Mark, but he covered it quickly. Hughes almost didn't see it. "Actually, I can. But it requires more energy than I am contented with giving up. It's like taking one of your own feelings and planting them into someone else. The experience can be quite draining and I found the after effects to be rather… disturbing."
"So you are telling me that if you took the emotion of love from someone and switched it with the hate emotion, you could change how a person feels about something or someone."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "I assure, sir, that the effects are temporary. Only long enough to escape or get in a critical blow."
In a quick gesture of surrender, Hughes held up his hands. "I didn't mean to be on the offensive. I'm too curious sometimes."
The blue eyes now looked back with that dead expression. "Yes. I can tell. Now may I continue?"
'I really need to give up on conversation.' "Of course."
"I used my alchemy to take away the hate directed at me. It worked, and his grip relaxed. I was too winded from being choked and I had no concealed weapons, so I took off while my adversary just stood there." Mark stopped his story telling and looked at Hughes expectantly.
"…Am I to assume you ran the rest of the way?"
"Yes."
"Okay then." Hughes stood up and stretched his long limbs, yawning a bit. "Nice story. You must have some time working out all the kinks to make it sound believable."
The red haired man stiffened in his chair and stared at Hughes with a new emotion: shock. "I..I believe I don't understand…"
"I think you do. First of all, your wife's name is Angie, not Annie. You slipped twice. I find it hard to believe a married couple for at least five years would have trouble remembering their spouses name."
"What I call my wife is none of your business." The shock had dissolved and contained fury replaced it. "I don't find this funny in the least, Mr. Hughes."
"Neither do I." Hughes kept his eyes trained on his audience. He also got his hand ready to slip the knife buried in his sleeve out and continued. "The second mistake was the way described your alchemy. I'm head of Investigation Dept. , so I did a little background check on you. You can't transfer your emotions into anyone. That would require a lot more power than you have. In fact, the emotional strain would kill you." (4)
"I would think I would know more about my alchemy than you and the rest of Central." By now, Mark was standing up as well and his face twisted into an ugly grimace.
"True, but your last flaw really can't be explained. Your wife is dead."
A tattle tale silence filled the small room, and Hughes knew he won this argument. Mark's face smoothed out and the blank stare returned. "And whatever gave you that idea?" he whispered.
"If you're gonna kill someone, at least do it outside. I've got a friend who uses bleach so much I'm surprised all of Central isn't sterile right now. I know what you can use it for, and you don't know how to use it properly."
The head bowed, red bangs spilling over the face and obscuring the view. His clenched hands relaxed and hanged limply, swaying just a tad back and forth. "You're wrong…"
"Then may I see her? If she is alive, then I'll leave and won't bother you again. The other reason I came here is because your neighbors reported screaming around noon."
The scratching resumed.
Mark remained quiet for a moment, the walked to the portrait of the woman. Sharp green eyes followed his every move. An alarm now went off in Hughes' head. This was not going the way he'd hoped.
"You want to see my wife, you stupid fucker?" Hughes didn't seem fazed by the language and nodded his head, though Mark couldn't see the movement. "All right, you greedy fuck. I'll show you." Mark grabbed the picture off the brass knob it hung from and threw it down to the floor. It turned out the picture concealed a hidden safe, tall and gray, embedded into the wall. Just big enough to fit a…
Hughes' felt his stomach roll while disgust and anger washed over him.
"You sick bastard…"
Mark ignored the remark and worked on the combination, the dial rolling steadily in his fingers. The dial stopped with a click, and Hughes didn't want to see what was in that safe.
"All right you fucking asshole. I'll show you my WIFE!" Mark began to cackle loudly, throwing his head back, the red hair now appearing eerily like fresh blood. The whites of his eyes glowed and the overhead light flickered.
'My god, he's mental...'
The door to the safe swung open and Hughes immediately looked away. By no means did Hughes have a weak stomach, but this was beyond wrong. This was vile. He just didn't have the heart to look.
That was a mistake.
A fist slammed into his side and Hughes gasped in momentary pain from the surprise attack. He stumbled to the side from the force of the blow and would have fallen if Summers hadn't caught him. Two slender hands snaked across his neck, and Hughes fought against the haze clouding his mind to get a firm grip on the floor. Mark was almost lifting him to the point his toes just barely brushed the floor.
'"His hands wrapped around my throat and for a while I couldn't breathe."'
Hughes struggled in Mark's grip, but the man showed considerable strength. He tightened his hold and delighted in the ugly crunching noises emitting from Hughes throat. "Something wrong, you fuck? I thought you wanted to see my WIFE! LOOK AT HER!" Hughes' vision danced in front of him as his body flew through the air. As best he could, he tensed his body for impact, but landed on something soft. The smell of bleach was now over powering. Hughes felt he would gag.
'What the hell did I… land…'
"GO ON AND LOOK AT HER BEAUTIFUL FACE!"
He didn't want to look. Gods, he wanted this to be a dream. Just a bad dream. Then he would wake up with Gracia in his arms and kiss her good morning and…
Hughes turned his head slightly to the side.
Just before he screamed, the lights went out.(5)
(1) This is a saying from one of my favorite teachers, who at the moment has cancer and the odds are stacked against him. Even though he'll probably never know, he inspired me to do my best and this chapter is dedicated to him. Thanks Mr. Rock! Love ya!
(2) Does anyone know the actual time period the FMA takes place in? (looks around) Anyone?
(3) That was total bullshit on my part. I really don't know if anything I said was true, so don't go telling your science teacher some idiot on the net said this and that about brain signals. That is all. :p
(4) Did I mention I was bullshitting? See (3).
(5) Hughes? Scream? Unrealistic, but I needed the cliffy!
Once again, sorry for such a long wait. And for the cliff hanger. My plushies made me do it! (ducks random objects) Besides, this is only the first part of chapter 5. It was getting way too long and I needed to update, so I cut it in two. The next one will have all the action and crap in it, so you won't want to miss it. And I'm gonna up the rating to M, because my sick mind is starting to effect the story. (You'll understand when you find out what Mark did to Angie.) If any of you are grossed out easily, I'll have a warning up for you. I don't want to lose any of my reviewers! As a last note, I will need a total of four reviews for me to update. Why? Just to check if anyone is still reading this story. Like I said, this is going to be a long fic, so I need reassurance that people will be there to read it. It just feeds my ego, basically :p
LegacyRBluesummers- And you shall have more, I promise! Just hang in there:p
Dea Lunae- You wanted to know about Havoc and Fury? Hopefully this chapter filled in some of the blanks! Can't tell you anything concrete though… (wink wink)
Basser- Ah, Basser. You demanded a chapter and here is one. I promise you will get your action soon. I'll probably update in about a week, so do not fear! THANX:p
catey- Here's the next chapter. Keep reviewing and I'll keep updating!
Review, my pretties! REVIEW! (cackles)