I have about a million sticky notes plastered all over my wall with messily written notes about new chapters, chapter titles, twists and turns in future events and very special events I plan on writing for when the climax of the war really hits! ;) I hope as the story progresses, I won't bore you :)
Also, I should note, I'm planning to write an "escape" chapter, meaning Ed and the others will sooner or later make a risky decision of staying and dying or escaping just barely out of the warzone. You'll see what I mean in future chapters (later)! :)
ANSWERS TO REVIEWS:
Unlucky Alis: Thank you so much! And welcome to the story btw! ^^ As for your question, I've planned to expose that little tidbit once Winry and Edward meet and foreshadow the encounter with a few talks between Ed and his brother as the story progresses. As I've written before, Ed gaining his automail had something to do with an accident and the operation had been very difficult to recover from. All I can say is, he still feels those "phantom pains" of losing his limbs and seeing his automail as "a mark of shame". He himself doesn't want to admit it, the fact that his leg and arm aren't made from flesh, so in order to better cope with the trauma, he just refers to them as that arm or that leg because he views himself as a monster. I hope my answer helped and didn't confused you too much! Haha BTW: Thanks for complimenting my OC Lena, I've been panicking if I was writing her into a Mary Sue character! O.O
Sherlsepeare: haha Yeah, that's what I meant. Both Ed and Mustang have studied the subject actually, however Mustang had other classes in university as well but Ed's main one had been primarily alchemy. It's actually connected to his strained relationship with his father, his father never expressed disagreement with what his son studied but Ed thought he did and kept his knowledge of alchemy a secret. He thought by joining the army that (also to protect his brother...etc.) that he could prove he was above/better than his father.
Enjoy! ;)
Another Sin
Madam Christmas motioned for one of her girls to occupy another customer in case anyone went asking for her, before she focused her full attention to the conversation at hand, watching the dying embers fade to a dull orange and then turn completely black.
"Our first lead had been that intelligence officer, Lust. Our second lead is Envy, I suspect he's involved with the military somehow. All I've gotten was a photo, nothing else," stern eyes cast a fleeting glance to the ashtray on her table, "What do you think? A cult?"
The time Riza took to answer suggested her skepticism, "I doubt it's quite a cult, perhaps a group devoid of religious beliefs. There's another thing however Roy found on his end at the base,"
Interested raised ever so slightly at hearing the name of her nephew, Madam Christmas pressed the phone harder against her ear, "What did he find?"
"They've secured a soldier weeks ago, but he escaped. We think somebody helped him escape, since the soldier has shown no prior motivation to escape the cell he had been confined in. Roy has tried interrogating him, but to no avail, his speech is slow and strained. Roy said Edward recognized a weird tattoo on his uniform, under the insignia of the State Military," Madam Christmas frowned darkly, dreadful anticipation growing in the pit of her stomach.
Riza paused before continuing, "The soldier's name is Sloth, we suspect one of his allies helped him escape from the cell," a chill ran down Madam Christmas' spine.
"A tattoo? Riza said it wasn't a cult, but rather a non religious group of some sort. First came Lust, then Envy, now Sloth, if my suspicions are right, there would be four more of them-" her thoughts were interrupted by a startling realization.
"Wait a minute, what's that spitfire boyfriend's name again? Ya know, the one who calls you sharpshooter and does martial arts." a ill feeling befell her and she didn't know if it was anything good she was about to discover.
"Lena's boyfriend? His name is Greed, why are you-?" Riza's confused but alerted voice echoed in her ears, particularly the name. The sharp hitch in breath she detected told her Riza had discovered the same thing she did or at least suspected it.
Greed.
The sin of avarice.
One of the seven deadly sins.
The fourth sin.
"I don't think you'll like this," Riza wasn't sure she liked the tone Roy's aunt had as she said this.
"What did you discover?" Riza's voice was filled with concern but underlined with suspicion, suspicion that her own assumptions were, in fact, very true.
Madam Christmas rubbed her forehead, piecing together the pieces, "Do you think that Greed character is in allegiance with the rest of those sins? He's a part of the military lot and now his 'siblings' are too. I'm smelling a mutiny," her eyes narrowed, eyes returning to the ashtray.
Riza's sharp intake of breath could be clearly heard through the phone, "Greed planning a mutiny? That's impossible, we've already had a ordeal a few weeks back, he's sworn loyalty to us and he's unaware of his siblings being a part of the military, at least their full roles in them. He doesn't know anything madam, trust me," Riza's voice was firm and unrelenting, prompting the older woman to sigh and momentarily bury the thought.
"If you say so deary, I trust your judgment. Now what did you say, what sort of tattoo was that?" she rose an eyebrow, chewing on the end of her cigarette.
"Edward said the tattoo was of a dragon eating its own tail, he said it was the symbol for immortality," the cigarette slowly fell from her opened mouth, dark slanted eyes wide in surprise at the new information.
Madam Christmas' expression grew grim, "Aye...immortality and seven deadly sins of humanity, I don't imagine that goes quite hand in hand," sharp eyes moved toward the map laid out on the table beside her, "There's more to discuss, I'll be waiting for you to come,"
"Yes, ma'am," with that both women hung up.
Chris Mustang sighed, lighting a new cigarette and blowing out long dragged puffs of smoke, vision clouded every so often with smoke and the smell of her precious cigarettes.
Immortality, sins, the war...this war wasn't going to be like anything they've dealt before, of that she was sure. But why would a bunch of brats call themselves after sins? To what purpose? What goal did they have in mind? And why the symbol?
She leaned back in her chair, the old wood creaking beneath her weight as she felt a soft, warm hand of one of her girls placed on her shoulder, "What is it, sweetie?"
The younger woman, one that hasn't been all that long with them as of yet, leaned down and whispered in her madam's ear, "Your nephew is here, madam,"
Her eyes widened in shock and her teeth tightened around her cigarette, a look of distrust in her eyes, "I'm comin',"
She pushed open the heavy door leading to the kitchen, greeted by the familiar dim lightning of her bar and her girls and their customers mingling around.
When she turned to her right to address who could possibly look like her nephew, who was currently fighting in a war, her eyes narrowed.
There, sitting with a glass of scotch in his hand, sat Roy Mustang, expression calm and a smirk on his face, his voice was undoubtedly his, "Hello there, madam," he nodded in greeting, taking a sip of his drink.
Chris Mustang smiled, taking a seat just in front of her nephew, falling back into their ordinary banter, "What brings you here, brat? I thought you were fighting in a war," she schooled her features into her usual expression of strictness and disinterest and Roy smiled, leaning in slightly.
"Various networks do come in handy once in a while," and as he sipped his drink and one of her girls looked at her nervously, she smirked.
"Say, since when do you drink scotch?" her red painted lips stretched into a lazy smirk when her nephew's eyes widened only a fraction before he cleared his throat.
"I suppose war changes a man's tastes," he replied coolly, locking gazes with her steadily.
Chris Mustang smirked, "Hm, I suppose they do, deary." She watched him drink the dark contents of his drink a little too quickly, "I suppose they do," the smirk never left her face.
Mornings in camp were mostly chaotic.
When Ling would shout, "Greed, what the hell did you do to my toothbrush again?!" and said man would be sporting a very evil, very nasty smirk, everyone agreed that a peaceful morning for that day was officially over.
Waking time was around five thirty, six would be bathroom and hygienic duties, six thirty sharp was breakfast and on seven was morning training consisting of long runs, quick sparring sessions, shooting lessons and discussion of military operations and the enemies' movements.
"Oi, getting old General?" Greed grinned when Mustang shot him a dark look, his hands balanced on his knees to try and catch his breath from their exhausting morning run.
"Very funny, Greed, perhaps I should double your usual morning runs," he smirked when Greed frowned, marching away resolutely and continuing his training.
They sparred regularly together, constantly exposing each-other's weaknesses to advise them what to improve when it came to a real battle and strengthening their strong points.
"Greed, you have to work on your speed more," Roy instructed, eyes focusing on the movement of Greed's legs.
Greed moved into position and smirked, "I'm from Xing, General, if you don't have speedy legs you won't get far there," Roy rose an eyebrow but before he could retort, he just barely blocked Greed's frontal kick, mildly surprised by the ferocious strength and speed behind the movement.
"Oof!" Roy's feet slid slightly across the dirt, hands quivering from blocking Greed's strike.
The soldier grinned, retracting his limb, "See? Told you I was-"
Roy smirked when his incoming fist connected with Greed's hard stomach, "Eyes on the enemy, soldier," he tapped Greed's bowed head, the man wheezed, clutching his stomach.
"Heh...yeah," he coughed, straightening up after he regained the breath that had been knocked from him, "Ah, general?"
Roy turned his head from drinking from his water bottle, "What is it?"
Greed smirked, "Eyes on the enemy, soldier,"
There was a breeze, a breeze he shouldn't be feeling so clearly and when Roy looked down, it was all the answer he needed.
"...Greed," the muttered name was filled with murderous intent as Roy bent to pick up his pants, hastily pulling them up and buckling his belt again.
The man snickered, already walking away to see how his brother was fairing with training.
Roy sighed, gulping down another healthy mouthful of the clear, tasteless liquid and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after he was finished.
He leaned against one of the wooden beams supporting a tent, watching how his team were faring in training.
Over on Edward's side, it looked like the young Lieutenant General used Ling as his latest practice dummy. The agile Xingese man evaded nearly all of his attacks, yet some struck and he didn't miss the wince coming from Ling, followed by a apology from Edward. Poor Alphonse suffered the same fate as the Xingese man and was used as target practice for none other than his best friend Maes, who kept launching lethal throwing knives at the shivering medic until all color drained from his face and he looked like he needed a blood transfusion.
Shaking his head, his eyes landed on his own team, sparring together in sync and well in tune with each-other's movements, honed from years of practicing and fighting together on the front lines like they did. He smiled fondly, sighing in contempt.
His thoughts wandered to his wife, how she was doing sitting in that stuffy office as opposed to being in the battlefield...he closed his eyes...he knew it was for the best, but he still missed her...dearly so.
Riza looked behind herself, glancing at the oddly familiar stranger in confusion that had just finished a conversation with Madam Christmas and walked out, unable to see his face clearly beneath his hat. She certainly recognized those broad shoulders, the long, even strides and the short dark hair creeping from beneath the man's hood. She turned to look at Madam Christmas in confusion, "A customer of yours?" she looked at the slightly scantily clad women around, others clad more modestly than the ones working part time in the brothel stationed here.
The elder woman smirked and shook her head, putting out her cigarette, "More like an impostor, dear," Riza's eyebrow arched.
"An impostor of whom?"
Madam Christmas frowned, "Get Roy on the line,"
Alphonse nearly tripped over a unconscious Ling on his way to rush towards the telephone that had been ringing for the past few seconds, glancing back to wonder why on earth he was on the forest floor.
A quick look towards his brother, who was giving a punching bag, which consisted of hay and grass bound by leather hanging from a tree, merciless practiced punches and kicks. Alphonse sighed and shook his head, jogging towards the telephone and picking it up, "Hello?" he sounded out of breath and he blamed Hughes for that.
The man was as kind as a sweet elderly woman and as crazy as the next lunatic, a combination of both usually made Alphonse want to run towards the hills. The man was proficient in the use of throwing knives and daggers, being his practice dummy or as he called it, sparring partner, wasn't high on his to-do list. While throwing the deadly weapons at him and Alphonse blocking them all, he sometimes thought the man lost it when he grinned at him so kindly and shouted overly dramatic encouragement at him all the while throwing sharp knives at him with the precision and speed of a professional killer.
Alphonse shook his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead and collarbone, "Yes?" he repeated, feeling like he missed the caller's introduction.
"Get Roy on the line brat," Alphonse shivered all over when he heard the familiar but very creepy voice of Roy's aunt sounding through the receiver. It wasn't that Alphonse disliked the elderly woman...it was just she was sometimes even scarier than Kimblee and that was saying something.
When they had visited her place with Roy one time, he had nearly had a heart attack when a swarm of scantily clad women surrounded him, cooing how cute and handsome he was and that he would have a good time with them.
Poor Edward hadn't been amused.
Neither had the women been when he kindly and politely refused their advances.
Madam Christmas had commented idly how she could potentially recruit Alphonse into working for her and getting more female patrons that way.
Alphonse had never blushed so red in his life.
Ed was walking towards him, wondering why his brother looked like he had seen a ghost with how pale he was, before he took the phone from his brother's sweaty, shaky hand and asked, "Hello? Who is this?"
"For hell's sake get Roy on the lines, ya little brats," opposed to his brother's reaction, Ed immediately recognized the gruff voice and shouted right back.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING LITTLE BRATS YOU MANGY PERVERTED OLD HA-" Ed was stopped when Roy roughly pushed him out of the way and answered as sweetly and as casually as ever.
"Ahh, it's you Madam Christmas, to what do I own the pleasure?" Roy smiled, peeking over to see Fullmetal sprawled across the grass with a less than friendly expression aimed at him.
There was a characteristic snort before the woman answered, "Since you only ever show your mug in my bar once in a blue moon, I've been surprised how you showed up today, so I decided to call over," Roy's expression froze, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"What?" he paused, resting a hand against the small table the phone was on, "What do you mean? You know I'm at the border,"
"Hm, yeah I know. A young little lad came to the bar and he looked exactly like you," she paused briefly, obviously lightning a cigarette, "Sounded like ya too, same annoying voice I know," Roy frowned, "Anyway, he came looking for answers. Asked how far along I'm with gathering information for you and all,"
Roy shared a concerned look with Alphonse before resting a hand on his hip, "What did you say?"
"I lied, 'course. Said I hadn't gotten anything new yet and that the last intel had been a false lead. He took off rather quickly after that. Tch, amateur," Roy shook his head, stumped that someone actually managed to disguise as him.
"Wait, how did you know that wasn't me if the impostor was good?" Roy arched a brow, sincerely curious.
The woman laughed in amusement, "He ordered scotch,"
Roy couldn't help but smirk in amusement, "Right," shaking his head, Roy took a breath, "There is a possibility that the man had been one of the military or one of Bradley's men," he paused, thinking it over, "Maybe even one of the sins we've interacted with,"
Madam Christmas scoffed into the receiver and Roy could hear playful annoyance in her gruff voice, "I thought you would be less trouble once ya grow old and move out, but I guess that's just a pipe dream," Roy chuckled, expression softening.
His voice lowered when he uttered the next words fondly, "Thanks, auntie," he chuckled at the surprised noise she made, "I'll be sure to look into it. Make sure you stay safe and be careful of who you let into the bar. Greet the girls from me, will you?" he smiled pleasantly.
The bar owner scoffed, "Yes, yes, now get back to work before you start slacking off again," there was barely audible amusement in her voice before the line went dead and Roy hung up as well.
"What is it?" Alphonse asked anxiously, having watched Roy's expressions closely during the talk.
Roy's gaze narrowed, "We have a problem, call in Fullmetal and Hughes," Alphonse did as told, not questioning the order as he helped his brother off the ground and speed walked toward the crazy but kindhearted soldier, dragging him away from his training.
"Ahh, what is it this time Roy? I had just gotten in shape too!" Hughes whined, adjusting his glasses sharply that made Alphonse shiver, "Dear Alphonse here was kind enough to assist me with my training!" he crossed his arms, a pout on his face.
Roy smirked at the horrified look on sweet Alphonse before turning serious, "Madam Christmas called just now. It seems like there's been an impostor, disguised as me in order to gather information about our current sources and what we know," he crossed his arms, a scowl on his face, "She said even his voice was like mine but how is that possible?"
Hughes rubbed his chin, "Well, there are a number of the latest voice modifiers that allow someone to imitate another's voice perfectly if used right,"
Ed frowned, "Who would want to do that anyway? You said something that the person may likely be in the military, but why bother going through all that trouble just to find something out they could very well get with force?" none of the recent events seemed to add up to him and it was making him frustrated.
Roy sighed, "I don't know. All I know is that we need to keep our eyes open, our enemy may be a lot closer than we think and with how things are looking like now with those...siblings of yours, " he shot Greed a brief look, "We have little advantage over them and are falling more and more behind by way of gathering information,"
Ed nodded, sighing, "What about Drachma?" Roy rose an eyebrow, "Drachma has employed the help of Aerugo, willingly or not, and they may have as well employed the strength of those sins too,"
Kimblee had made his entrance with a flicker of his long pony tail, draping it over his shoulder as he shook his head at Ed's theory, "I doubt it, Fullmetal. If we are connecting the dots here correctly, Bradley should be aware of their existence and have full control over their actions. Handing over precious soldiers like that over to the enemy doesn't sound right to me," his gaze narrowed, "Bradley and Drachma's leader have had a longstanding rivalry between them, over the course of the years that one sided rivalry was returned after a failed assassination attempt on the Führer's wife, very obviously bearing the mark of Drachma," he rubbed his chin, humming thoughtfully, "The Führer is highly unlikely to join forces with his greatest enemy, so I assume he is keeping those elite soldiers of his under his power to prepare for something much greater than maybe even this war," his face was deathly serious, eyes locking onto Roy's, "Wouldn't you agree, General?"
Roy's gaze narrowed, conflicted emotions clearly expressed through his dark eyes, "Something greater than this war?"
Kimblee smiled, "Maybe even something that could endanger the lives of many, many people,"
And suddenly, Ed's memory was jarred violently when he remembered the words Greed spoke not too long ago.
"They said they would rule the world..."
"...said they would need many...sacrifices for it to work,"
Ed curled his hands into a fist, "They need sacrifices," all heads turned to look at the young soldier.
"For what?" Hughes adjusted his glasses, expression grave as he contemplated the words and the meaning behind them.
Ed shook his head, "I don't know yet but..." he looked each of them in the eyes, "This war may very well only be a decoy,"
Roy's eyes widened, subtle fury lacing his words, "Are you aware of what you're saying, Edward?"
The blond nodded firmly, "I know what I'm saying alright. Maybe Bradley's using this whole war as a decoy to distract the public from his real plan." The squad fell silent, mulling over the atrocious idea.
Al's voice was thick with something akin to fear and disbelief when he spoke softly, "You think...they plan to do what they did to Ishval?" he looked at his brother directly, "A mass murder?"
Ed slowly shook his head, "Maybe...maybe not. Maybe my assumptions are just that, assumptions, but ever since we encountered one of those 'sins' nothing seemed to add up right. Much less the theory that the Führer may be in cahoots with them,"
Roy's voice was surprisingly sharp as he said this, "We're soldiers Ed, not detectives. Our job is to fight and win this war, nothing else," his cold front surprised Ed.
"It's also our job to protect our country and the people in it Mustang and if we can do that by stopping a possible mass slaughter by staging a coup against the Führer then we have to!" Ed's voice was just as sharp but controlled, schooled features and harsh eyes coming into play.
Ed had been a real hothead when he was younger, back when he first joined the military, had been often prone to emotional outbursts of rage. But the years in the military had toughened him up, he had matured, physically, mentally and had used all he had to his advantage.
By now, outbursts of rage served as comical purposes for when they were relaxing and fooling around or for very serious situations where, in rare moments of weakness, Ed couldn't control his feelings anymore and they would come shooting out of him like deadly bullets from a automatic rifle.
Roy didn't know what was more unnerving, seeing Ed's bursts of outrage or seeing the schooled harsh features of his junior as he glared at him.
Dark eyes closed in thought, teeth gritting together, "Roy?" at Hughes' prodding, Roy opened his eyes again.
"If Bradley really has something to do with the appearance of them, then we will find out," he turned to look at Hughes, "Call Rebecca and request intelligence spies to be set on Bradley, only answering to me," Hughes nodded seriously, immediately getting to the task, Roy's gaze turned sharply to Ed.
Ed was quick to stand his ground, "If you're going to scold me, that's useless, Mustang. I'm not a cadet anymore and you're not the same dumb jackass you were then," he crossed his arms, chin lifting slightly in a sign clear of defiance.
Roy sighed heavily before shaking his head, "Being lectured by a child...how the mighty have fallen,"
Ed smirked.
Disappearing stealthily into a narrow alleyway, Roy Mustang hid behind one of the larger trash cans, fingers prodding at something at his neck.
Blunt nails scratched and tore at the spot until a piece of what appeared to be skin peeled off, enabling him to take a hold of it with deft fingers and roughly pull it out, a large layer of skin tearing away to reveal darker skin beneath the mask, roughly tearing away the voice modifier just at his collar and pocketing it safely.
Breathing a sigh of relief at escaping the uncomfortable confines of the mask, a ringing and vibrating in his pocket made the unmasked stranger reach into it and flip his phone open.
"Has the mission been successful?" the voice of King Bradley entered his ears and the stranger smirked, a deep, smooth voice answering back leisurely.
"Quite, however she has her suspicions," striking blue eyes peered from behind his cover before focusing on the conversation, "They most likely have notified Mustang of this,"
"Indeed. I'm glad you have chosen to aid me in my goal, I've needed somebody like you in my party," the tall man smirked, blue eyes flickering ominously.
"I'll execute the next part of my mission, sir," with that he hung up, flipping the phone shut and slipping it back inside his pocket.
A bloodthirsty grin settled over handsome features, making his eyes appear to glow in amusement, "We'll see who's aiding who in this war, Bradley," he chuckled, a rich, deep sound.
Adjusting the hat on his head and safely hiding away the remains of his mask, he mingled in with the crowd, dark long trench coat effectively hiding any sign of the dark blue military uniform he had stolen, "We'll see..."
I'm so sorry for the short length! I've been suffering through a bit of writers block with this particular chapter! Reviews, as you know, keep me alive and kicking! ;) What happens next? And who's that handsome stranger that posed as Mustang? Thoughts and opinions are appreciated! Thank you!