Written for the fma fuh q community challenge.

Skewed

He slipped her a piece of paper, grin causing a cigarette to wobble between his teeth. "The name's Havoc. So you…like to dance?" The hapless soldier shifted in what was supposed to be a smooth manner. His hand sifted through his blonde hair.

Smiling, Lust brushed the man's fingers and slipped the number into the bust of her dress. "Do you?" A soft chuckle; a smooth shrug.

Eyes widening as the scrap disappeared into the far recesses of her attire, he tugged the cigarette out of his mouth and chuckled unconvincingly. His voice slipped into a murmur and he leaned towards her as if in deep confidence. "It would be nice to dance with a pretty girl like you."

"Oh, really?" She giggled, hair rippling in the dusky light. "How sweet of you."

"It's merely the truth." His hand reached out and touched hers. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." His smile was awkward.

Though she could tell he had said it a thousand times before, she could also tell that this time, he wasn't lying. She had seen it all before. Men followed her with their eyes on the streets, attempted to stop her while she was walking, and fumbled while attempting to hold a simple conversation. "My, my, how totally flattering," she breathed, fingertips dancing over his stubble. But she knew she was just an object. Their eyes trailed down to her chest and marveled over her hips. Nobody cared about who she really was, and nobody cared that she was an empty shell inside.

She was a body to men, a rival to women, and a slave to her master. She did not know who she was to herself, but that did not matter, because she was a tool. She knew her role in this half-life, and played it well. "I'm sorry." Her eyes widened and she placed a worried hand over her mouth. "But I will be late for my interview!"

The grin fell, replaced hurriedly with fake concern. "Would you like me to escort you, then? The headquarters can be very confusing." He opened the door with surprising grace.

"How very charming." Lust swept her fingers over the buttons adorning his military uniform. There weren't that many of them, but she pretended to be impressed. "I'm sure you know your way around very well." She examined his eager face as she lightly tugged one of the pins. "But I wouldn't think that a good soldier like yourself would abandon his post."

"Um…no. Of course not."

"Oh, good. I'll call you, hmm?" She let go of the button with a light snap and a final smile of farewell. The look on his face was priceless, but she was far more pleased with how he hadn't bothered to include her on his list, or ask for her name. Or ask why she was having an interview at eleven at night. She felt herself smile, for real this time.

A hall later she dug the note out from her cleavage, glanced at the untidy scrawl, and tossed it onto the floor. It had been itchy, and she was glad to be rid of it. The military halls were alien to her; she was trapped in this foreign world. There was something wrong about the walls and how they swept down forever, and she wasn't sure what it was. A vague discomfort settled over her, a child of something she could not remember. She was not supposed to be here, because this place was cursed by sin. She could almost hear the blood slipping down the walls.

But such thoughts were made in error. They were irrelevant, and not related to Lust. She was a tool, and she had nothing to do with the woman whose death had brought her to life. She had nothing to do with that shadow of a man, who sometimes visited her while she slept.

She peeked through the open door, examining the man she was supposed to lead astray. She would lead him out of his room, and Sloth would search for what she needed from his files. Lt. Hughes was biting his lip, occasionally fingering one of several picture frames. Muttering, he stuck a pen into his mouth and bit down. A pitiful human, she thought, trying to make sense of something far beyond his capacity. She almost felt sorry for him.

"Excuse me," she whispered like she was afraid to disturb him, "I'm sorry, but I cannot find the library.

"Eh?" he murmured, blinking with exhaustion. "Who are you? What are you doing here so late?" But his face looked kind, and he did not seem annoyed.

"I am looking for a book? I was sent here by my teacher. An alchemist." She stood in the door, perfectly innocent, perfectly confused. "I showed my paper's to the soldier at the door."

A weary grin stole over his features. "It's just down the hall, to the left. You can't miss it! I'm not sure it's open right now though." His brow furrowed. "…I think I saw Schiezka leave…" Riffling some papers, he rubbed his arm over his eyes. "Whew, I'm sorry. I'm just very tired."

"Do you usually work so late?" She watched him like a hawk, continuing to expect a normal male reaction to her presence. But he continued to act like she was just another human, and his eyes did not reveal any type of arousal. Well-hidden?

"Hnn? As of late, yes. I'm in a tight spot." Unexpectedly he shrugged and laughed, leaning back into his chair and shooting her a wide smile. "So do you, it seems. Need me to take you to the library?" Without an answer he hurried from his chair, snatching some photographs from his desk and shoving them into his pocket. "I'll take you, miss. I need to get up anyway."

She hadn't expected to be so easily accommodated, but she did not complain. Her hands brushed over his shoulder, fingertips pressing seductively against his skin.

Shooting her a confused look, Hughes shrugged at her a second time. "Eh? It's this way." He exclaimed, pointing a proud finger down the hall. "I hope you can find what you are looking for." He gave her a genuine smile and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.

"And I hope you can go home soon," Lust responded evenly. "Nobody should be working so late."

"Thanks, but I don't know about that. It is rather frustrating, actually. I need to spend more time with my kid. She's growing up so fast and I just don't see enough of her. She's the sweetest thing. And my wife and I need to go out soon: I work all the time and she misses me." His chest heaved and he fiddled with the pictures in his pocket.

Lust nodded, lips turning downwards in sympathy. "That's too bad, and I'm sorry," she lied.

"Would you like a picture?" The hopefulness in his voice stirred something inside of her. He attempted to place one into her lax fingers, coaxing her to take them. "This is a picture of Elysia when she was a little baby! Isn't she sweet? I wish she was still that young sometimes."

She did not understand why he would be so nostalgic over this plain woman and her child. The humans she usually dealt with had their obsessions too, but they were easily accommodated. Some wanted power, some wanted fame, and, more often than not, they wanted her. She was not hers to give, but many a time did her master force her into the arms of men. Her fingers closed around the picture.

They turned to the right in silence.

"Thank you," she said, sticking the papers into her open dress.

"Well, here it is! I'll see if Scheizka's in—oh!" He fiddled with the door a bit. "It's locked. You could come back tomorrow?"

"I'm sure that would be fine, Lt. Hughes." She slid her arm around his waist, pressing her hips into his side. "But there is something else that I think I want…and I'm sure that you want too…" The easy part had begun. She fell into her role, into what came naturally to her. He became just one more man, and she became the black widow. Did men go knowingly towards their doom, or were they blind-folded?

"Hey now, lady…" Hughes kindly nudged her aside, but his body had stiffened. "I just told you I have a wife and a kid at home."

So he needed a bit more convincing. She pressed herself closer to him, breathing into his ear and trailing her hand up to his shoulder. "She'll never find out…don't you want to have a bit of f—"

"This isn't funny at all," the once genial soldier snapped, grasping her hand and tugging his shoulder free. "Gracia is my wife, and I have no idea who you are." His Adam's apple shifted as he swallowed. "So please, just return tomorrow for your book."

A strange feeling crept through Lust's veins even while she slipped her other hand down to his crotch. "Your body tells me otherwise…" she told him, pressing down on his slight arousal.

His breathe quickened, and she could feel his hand begin to quiver on top of hers. "Leave me alone, please, lady." The 'please' held a note of quiet desperation. He jerked away from her, eyes widening in shock as her nails dug into his jacket.

"Don't leave, we've only just begun." She caught his jacket with her extended claws, pinning him firmly to the wall. One tickled his neck, teasing him and drawing a small line of blood. Kneeling before him, she unwound the strings on his pants, slowly twirling the knots around with her fingers. This was unusual behavior, and quite interesting, if unexpected. She had not bargained for a resistant prey.

"Who are you?" he asked through clenched teeth. "And what are you looking for?" She heard a sharp gasp as his pants dropped and settled around his ankles. His fingernails scraped against the walls, and she examined his eyes as she ran her hands down his coat.

"I told you already. I'm looking for a book." It was a gentle chide, an obvious answer.

"Maybe I missing something crucial, lady, but I'm not a book." He was shaking now, biting his lip and pressing his body against the wall with force. "Look—is this really necessary?"

"Will you stop interrogating me?" Her fingers moved closer and closer to his member, which was budding despite her victim's best wishes.

"You know I can't do that." He steadied himself, attempting to garner some remnant of dignity. "Are you trying to keep me away from my desk? Are you trying to steal-ah-my information?"

"I'm looking—for a book." The tickling claw slammed into the wall, grazing his cheekbone and eliciting a squirm.

"My progress book?" He was attempted to not sound fazed. A small nudge sent him into full arousal, and his hands clenched into fists.

The floor dug into her knees as she kept her awkward position, and she had to fight the urge to shift and lose her hold on him. "Perhaps." She removed her hand, and he winced. "You haven't been relieved for a very long time, have you?"

He ignored this statement of the obvious, eyebrows furrowed and lips tight. "Who are you—working for?" Pain and frustration laced his voice; a small murmur escaped his lips. She watched has his feet skidded back towards the wall.

"Now why in the world would I tell you that?" She stroked him gently, pleased that he was beginning to writhe underneath her touch.

Hughes managed a smirk between ragged panting. "I'm just doing my job—lady."

"You're very good at your job." She grasped his length and trailed down it. "Are you just as good of a father?"

He pressed the back of his head against the wall, eyes shut tight and body quaking. Sweat dribbled down his forehead, and through gritted teeth he snarled, "Leave Elysia out of this! She has nothing to do with you—or this—this—agh!" His hips bucked towards her, and his seed splattered across her arm.

Clothing ripping as he was released from his bindings, the soldier slumped against the wall. He hid his eyes from her, damp hair hanging limp over his face. He tugged his pants up in a resigned manner, refusing her assistance. The strings jerked into place. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yes, Lt. Hughes, I'm leaving." But she just stood there, examining him.

"Then leave," he managed. "But I'll find out who you people are, and I'll find out what you want. And then, we'll stop you."

"Is that so? I think you should stop searching for us, Lt. Hughes, as a note of advice." A wisp of regret swirled through her chest, and she paused. "I don't want to have to kill you." But she did not mean it as a threat. It was an apology of sorts, and a statement of fact. She was finding she liked this man, and his silly self-righteous mannerisms.

"Heh, I can't do that." He chuckled humorlessly.

Sometimes humans were so self-destructive, even though they didn't attempt to be. It was a flaw in human-kind. Their hearts were too full of blood, and they beat too rapidly and too strong. Men let their emotions overwhelm them. "Then spend time with your family while you can." She had seen it a thousand times. But his heart beat for a different reason, something more real, and meaningful.

"I'm not going to die."

She smiled at him sadly, and reached into her dress. "That all depends on the contents of your little book." The pictures were crumpled, because she hadn't expected any further use for them. "Give these to somebody else." She couldn't have them. She was different from him, and when she looked at him, she somehow felt less than human.

"Don't underestimate us." Hughes' fingers caught the precious paper. His eyes lingered on the faces of his family, skewed by creases that sliced them through the middle. "I have plenty, he whispered, releasing his hold.

She didn't know what to do with them, so she merely held them at her side. She felt sacrilegious, holding his wife and child broken between her claws. "Goodbye, Lt. Hughes," she said, wistful. He represented something that she wished was hers.

"Goodbye," he returned. "We'll meet again." Bright eyes locked hers, strong and proud.

"I hope not." She turned and left, heels clicking ominously against the marble. Blood still slipped down the walls, but she was the one who had started the slaughter.