i'm back…I'm sorry for holding off on this fix…i've been busy and have lost inspiration…Hopefully I'll be able to finish this fix.
Channel Hopping Chapter 9: The tattoo curse
A howling wind echoed though the run down hallway and Mustang fought from shivering despite the protection his military jacket was giving him. The Colonel continued walking down the hallway, the antique camera being held tightly in his hands. He had to find a tv and fast.
Not many things scared Roy Mustang. He had seen and been in worse situations back in Armestris, but at this moment, being alone in a huge deteriorating mansion, with only a camera as a weapon was unnerving. He didn't know why it did. Perhaps because he was currently playing hide and seek with a ghost that could easily kill him or the fact that alchemy was now useless. Oh yeah…He really REALLY hated this world. It had been a long time since he felt this powerless.
"When I get back to Armestris I'm turning that black box into a pile of ashes." He muttered under his breath as the floorboards protested under his feet and the familiar feeling of being watched crept up on him. Whirling around he brought the camera to his face only to see a man run towards him wielding a large and blood stained cleaver.
"Shit." Mustang swore and out of reflex clicked the camera's shutter. A blinding flash lit the hallway causing the offending ghost to recoil in pain. The gauge on the camera showed that it barely made any damage. Heart pounding in his chest he shoved his gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a type 61 film and dropped it.
"Shit." He growled again, looking into the camera's view finder the second time. The ghost had recovered and was running towards him. With no time to replace the cartridge and that being is last type 61 Mustang bolted down the hall.
The camera in hands was alive, the red filament continuously flashed red indicating the ghost was still foliowing him. Mustang desperately he yanked at the first door he saw, ran in and bit back a curse. There was no tv, but the only shiny surface in that room was a mirror that sat a top a small dresser. The creepy thing he noticed was numerous hanks of long black hair that were nailed to the wall behind it. They most likely belonged to a woman.
"I found you!" Came a raspy feminine voice. Mustang's breath caught in his throat and the camera's filament glared a angry red. Turning around he came face to face with a woman covered in tattoos. A second passed before Mustang quickly lunged backwards and the tattooed woman followed; her arms thrusting forward to grab him. Falling towards the ground his palms slammed against the mirror, and instead of feeling the broken shards of glass a bright light engulfed him and the pain filled shrieks of a woman rang in his ears.