"The embassy from Mars has arrived, sir." Paul straightened, looking over the rim of his coffee cup at the young boy who had given the announcement. He barely looked out of his childhood, his uniform hanging off him like a presumptuous mother had bought it big enough for him to grow into. Message now delivered, the boy nearly ran out of the room as the man to Paul's left stood and Paul focused his attention on him instead. The man was dull looking, with black hair and a bushy moustache but no beard. His face looked like someone had chiselled it out of stone, with strong cheekbones and a stubborn chin, and his eyes seemed permanently closed in an expression of mirth that the man saw no reason to hide. Bradley, his last name was, Paul had never bothered to catch his first because the man was called 'sir' by his underlings (very many) and 'Bradley' by everyone else (at most, about three people that Paul knew of.). Paul found it possible, but improbable; that the man's name could have been lost to time itself and that the only persons who knew it were the man's parents.
Bradley was insanely high in the social rankings. Third richest man in the world, the man was an acute businessman and a skilled military commander, having risen to power at the relatively young age of forty. He knew how to demonstrate both his power and his wealth in affluent parties with just the right amount of sophistication and the smallest touch of flair. Paul had once been to one of these gigs, it had been disconcerting to say the least to see just how many connections the man had and just how well-to-do humans of the upper class were. He sighed then, for he knew that the embassy that the man was greeting now wouldn't see this side of Bradley, but rather, the side that made him much more powerful than the true parliament. Bradley's military brain had placed him at the head of the army and not just because he could control armies. The reports of the man's office tactics to secure his position were infamous, and more often than not, nothing less than bloody.
Knowing of the man's reputation, therefore, Paul had been shocked to discover that he had been called to be the psychoanalyst for today's proceedings. While he was trained in the field, Bradley had innate skill for such a thing and that was something that no one with just book smarts and experience could learn. One had to have an intuitive ability to predict reactions and movements, one that Paul was significantly lacking. This had shown itself most blatantly when Paul had no clue that Gabriel even knew what he was, let alone how to get back, and Paul had been the boy's psychiatrist for quite some time before he vanished. This lead to Paul realising that he had perhaps been given this role to serve as one who had the most contact with the boy besides the scum of the lower class. (Never mind that as middle class, Paul was only slightly better.) Perhaps it was a test for Paul, an attempt to redeem himself in the eyes of his betters, or perhaps it was because Paul was the only one who understood at least some of the machinations in the angel brain.
Paul's forte did not lie in politics, however, so he merely sat to one side to study the proceedings.
Bradley inclined his head slightly in the direction of one of the guards at the door. The guard gave a small salute in return and placed his hand on a palm-scanning device. With a noise like a microwave announcing its task done, the door at the end of the large room slid open. Through the door now, stepped three of the most bizarre things Paul had ever seen.
They were bizarre due to their normality in Paul's eyes. They could pass for human with ease, as Paul had already learnt when dealing with Edw- Gabriel but they were distinctly not human. He could see it in the hawklike precision of their gaze, the ferocity in their stance. All the things he had taken for granted in Edward as part of the boy's unique idiosyncrasies came out full force when Paul had to focus on three of the winged men. The oddities and ties to them not being human were thrown into a sharper relief when coupled with their wings that stuck out from their sides awkwardly. The wings seemed a hindrance more than anything, causing the men to have to go through the wide door one at a time (Or this could have been a custom in their race, Paul didn't know) their wings folded in awkward positions so that they could fit. All three were straight-backed and proud, the one standing slightly forward with an air of sophistication that Paul had previously only associated with Bradley. There was a small smirk on this one's face, and a cunning wit hovered around the lines of his eyes. These were tilted upwards so that he could meet Bradley's face through his eyelashes; the man seemed reluctant to have to look up, as if it was a show of inferiority. The man was highly attractive and elegant, a real lady-killer and Paul found himself wishing that he'd had that sort of poise when he was younger. The three men strode towards the table and now that Paul's attention was diverted he saw that they were bringing with them the two upper-class prisoners, a boy who Paul had only seen photos of before, and his bodyguard.
Bradley seemed satisfied with the proceedings, his smile nearly stretched from ear to ear, but it wasn't one of pleasure. Paul thought it had a distinct look of victory to it. As the embassy reached the table, he extended his hand with an unnecessary flourish. "Captain Mustang. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you in person."
With a nod, the lead angel took Bradley's hand in both of his, clasping it warmly. "I'm sure." The angel said, taking the seat directly across from Bradley. The two other angels remained standing; both were cuffed to a prisoner each, though the one to the right was more deftly secured. (This was because the boy he was cuffed to was highly more valuable than the girl in the negotiations and both sides knew it.) This angel strangely wore glasses, and Paul found himself surprised that angels could actually have vision problems. It just went to show him how little he actually knew of the enemies of the Earth. The other one, the one on the left had the strangest hair, two coloured, a blonde fringe and a brown back. Definitely odd in Paul's opinion. "And your friend is...?" The first of the beings asked, making a vague gesture in Paul's direction.
Bradley actually chuckled. "This is Paul Duncan, one of the Psychologists on the Gabriel team. He is merely here to study the psychological states of your prisoners." The man's eyes slid open a slit to stare half-dangerously at 'Mustang'. "You must understand that we wish that no harm has come to our own." Mustang's gaze was still focused thoughtfully on Paul's. With a small frown, Paul averted his eyes, unable to keep them locked on the sharp black stare any longer. When he dared look again, the man was smirking and focusing on Bradley. Paul realised he'd just been tested. He'd failed miserably judging by the creature's expression.
There was a pressure just on the inside of Paul's skull, small and insignificant, the kind that alerted someone of a headache coming on. He rubbed the bridge of his nose once. Mustang's smirk seemed to grow a fraction before the angel replied in even tones, "I think you will find that our prisoners are in the same mental state as yours if you have kept our comrades well." Paul flinched here; he'd heard the horror stories of what they did to captured angels and knew that the end results were very rarely pretty. "However, as we are sharing information here like sensible men, my bodyguards are Maes Hughes and Jean Havoc, sensible men who are here just to ensure my safety."
In other words, they're here because you trust us nowhere near as far as you can throw us. Paul thought snidely, his analytical brain beginning to kick into gear. The situation reeked of power plays and mind games, like two men sitting over a chessboard and both players being two moves away from a checkmate. Bradley shifted slightly, it was white's move. And what black didn't know was white was cheating.
Paul, no matter what his ex-wife thought of him, had a conscience. He hated seeing these people across from him struggling to gain the upper hand when he knew what Bradley had in store for them. He knew that all was fair in love and war, but some things just didn't sit right with him and this was one such instance.
And there was that headache again. Mustang was looking at him almost oddly now, before Bradley finally made his next move. "Of course, my dear Captain. Your wariness of us is easy to understand considering our stormy relations in the past." Bradley slid slightly forward in his chair, folding his fingers and looking over the top of them at the angel. "Your knowledge also, of what questions I would wish to ask you, it is almost like you are reading my mind." The man chuckled once more. There was something in Mustang's posture that went rigid at that, and something that made the boy prisoner distinctly more amused and cocky.
Mustang quickly bounced back; however, "Your files are so much more useful to me than your mind, most distinguished of men." He moved to copy Bradley in body positioning. "The information in your stores makes it easy to predict what you wish to find out from me." That said, the man leaned back again, confident smirk more fixed in place. "But I tire of these word games, as I'm sure you do too. Our business today is not a battle of wits."
Paul wished it was.
"Were our races currently peaceful," said Bradley, "It would be a fine challenge to argue with you. Perhaps there will be a time when we can do so." The man looked like he highly doubted it. "Alas, such novelties should be saved for times of peace, do you not agree, Captain?"
"Perhaps just such a time will be closer than you think." The angel mused and Bradley leaned back, a sardonic twist in his eyebrows. Mustang continued with, "Down to business then. The embassy of avians you see before you is here to discuss the trade of prisoners and a peaceful end to the dispute between our races through this action."
"And I am here to remind you of the human's previous stance on this issue which is adamant refusal without the procurement of one Edward Elric, from Project Gabriel." Bradley replied without missing a beat. "Two humans for a planet, no matter the social standing of those involved is not an adequate trade. Procure for us Gabriel, and our position may change."
"Edward," Mustang returned, a crease in his brow, "Has never been the property of humans. As an avian, do you dispute that his place is with those of his kind, not as the focus of some kind of sick experimentation?" Paul was watching the trading of blows like he was at some kind of tennis rally.
Mustang had barely finished speaking when Bradley replied with, "Should you not sacrifice one person for the greater good of your race? Humans merely wish to study him to gain a greater understanding of your species without the bias of your own opinions." His eyes opened slightly wider then, staring Mustang down and waiting for a reply.
"Edward is a sentient creature." Said the angel. "He is not to be bartered as some sort of property or commodity. You act like he belongs to you."
"Does he not?" Paul looked at Bradley in amazement. The man had sounded like Mustang suggesting something else was ludicrous. "Humans raised him and cared for him since his infantdom. This would therefore lay some sort of claim on him for us."
Mustang gave a slightly visible snarl, his smirk faltering. Paul caught himself wondering for an insane moment, just what type of relationship that the angel had for Gabriel. From what Paul had seen of the boy, Gabriel was a dark, moody and antisocial brat. Truth be told, he didn't understand why both sides of the argument were warring over him so. Paul saw Gabriel to be a hindrance to any side that got him. Surely they should be arguing over who had to suffer him? "Edward is not a commodity." Mustang snapped. "He is not something to be possessed or laid claim to."
Bradley seemed unaffected by his opponent's visible discomfort. "We, humans, have taken that power which you angels would have allowed to lie in ruins amongst your genes. You are remarkable creatures with your almost telekinetic powers of control and manipulation of ordinary things." Mustang was visibly caught off guard at this; he sat back heavily in his chair and seemed almost comforted by a pale hand finding its way to his shoulder. The hand belonged to one of his bodyguards, the one with glasses. Bradley noticed the lack of composure about the same time that Paul did, so blatant was it and boldly continued with the winning blow. "The gene locks we discovered, the keys that had been lost but could be recreated. Amazing powers can be unlocked in you angels if humans merely have the time and the patience. We found Gabriel's key, unlocked the sleeping beast within him."
Mustang growled, muttering something incredibly vulgar in his native tongue. "You won't settle for anything less than him." It seemed a useless statement of the facts and Paul felt sorry for the man.
"Angels play right into the hands of God, Mustang." Replied Bradley calmly. "Have you even thought to wonder why we called him Gabriel?"
Mustang said something so foul that it would have made a soldier blush. He knew as well as everyone else around the table that he had lost.
"We called him Gabriel because Gabriel is the messenger of God. Gabriel carries both messages of destruction and salvation to the world. Gabriel would have prophesised your doom." Bradley checked himself then and his victorious little grin grew into a full-fledged smile. "And now that we have secured the right bait, God will gain his messenger once again."
"Just what have you done to him?" The angel demanded.
"You won't be alive long enough to care."
Checkmate. Paul thought grimly.
The human raised his right arm and snapped his fingers in such a sickening imitation of Roy's own abilities that he flinched. This is wrong. Floated across the other one's brainwaves. Duncan, the portly man was called and Mustang saw once again why Edward had thought him an old quack. Too weak to have said anything this whole meeting, even though the distress coming off him this whole time had been thick and fast and nearly equal in volume to the smugness radiating off the other. This is wrong. I don't agree to this at all.
"Then you should have said something earlier, Mr. Duncan." Roy said snidely, having little patience for the man, less now that he'd lost spectacularly. The man graced him with an utterly perplexed look, a moment before a steel wall smashed through the middle of the glass table, shutting the avians and their prisoners off from the humans on the other side of the divide. Roy was only allowed a brief moment to ponder the change in events before Ling Yao slipped from his binds and grinned.
"Gotcha." The young man said with the air about him changing to the scheming creature Mustang had known lived under the innocent surface all along. The binds on Ran too fell away with a depressing 'chink'. Roy felt his eyes slide closed for a moment, before they opened again, looking directly into the slanted gaze of the elite human before him.
"Well played." He said and meant it. Roy's world had become surprisingly calm after his initial anger and frustration at having been played, every additional move that the humans had made now so blindingly obvious. Yaos' quiet but dedicated complaining the whole way down had been to alert them of their arrival through the grapevine before the avians had wanted to be known, Ran's subtle but insistent way of ensuring that they remained distracted and unfocused up until the business deal had been tried and failed. Even the manipulative way they'd tricked Havoc into having to come as well; now all the steps were so blindingly obvious but they had seemed pointless at the time.
Mustang had always known there was a high risk of a doublecross throughout this whole meeting. It was probably now why he met it with such calm in the face of fire. Hughes and Havoc had drawn their weapons while Roy didn't bother. He stared Yao down, standing from the seat and brushing shattered glass out of his lap. "I would sorely like to have my men kill you right now." He admitted, long past any need for pretending that there were good relations in the room. "However, that would not alleviate my predicament; indeed, it would make it a lot worse." He raised his right hand and the guns were placed back into holsters.
Not one to truly admit defeat though, Mustang reached into his pocket, extracting one of his famous gloves. He slid it on in small, but precise and efficient movements, holding his hands at eyelevel so the humans could see exactly just what he was doing. Yao laughed at him, eyes squinting shut. "Your predicament, my dear sir, is already dire."
Having said that, the boy moved in movements as slow and deliberate as Roy's own to the left wall of the large chamber. He seemed to be retreating away from something; his gaze was plastered to the far side of the room where an ominous grinding noise had started up. Looking over his shoulder, Roy saw that the entire right wall was a mechanical grate, lifting up at a torturously slow pace. It was at least three storeys until the ceiling of the antechamber and not for the first time, Roy wondered with a sort of curiosity just what use the humans had for a room this big. It seemed he was about to find out.
Suddenly accompanying the grating of gears on gears came an animal-like snorting and gushing like a large dog snoring through its nose. Mustang gave the door more of his attention, turning away from Yao to watch the scene unfolding before him better. A slither of natural light appeared under the door before it was blocked by a large, reptilian snout sniffing at the gap. A serpent-like tongue flicked out under the wall, it was longer than Roy was tall. Whatever the thing was behind that wall, it explained the height of the chamber quite nicely.
Some part of Roy was already calculating his chances of survival. If either Hughes or Havoc could get out of that gap and into the daylight, they could take the shuttle back to the Shiroi and tell Edward not to come. It was a long shot, but if there was someone distracting that thing (if it was hostile as Roy thought it was) then they just might be able to pull it off.
The door had opened nearly to its full extent now, and the reptile was blocked out against the sun. Roy primed himself to take flight. He had a feeling the creature wouldn't attack until there was some kind of trigger, but he needed to prepare himself for the instant something took a greater turn for the worse. This was just another battle, he told himself, just another adversary to overcome.
"How do you like the Sanguinnan?" Ling asked from somewhere behind him. Roy didn't take his eyes off the creature to answer. "It is genetically engineered to go insane at the scent of angel blood. It will hunt down the source of that blood, my dear guests, and destroy it, an ultimate fighting tool." The beast stepped out of the light at this moment, rearing up onto its hind legs to get a better view of the widened space of its enclosure. It stood so tall that its head nearly brushed the ceiling of the antechamber, and its every limb was lined with foot long spikes. These spikes had a translucent liquid dripping from the end that Roy felt certain was a sort of toxin. It's tail was as long again as it's body and it was slowly waving back and forth, coming dangerously close to destroying the other walls a many a time. The same spikes that lined its limbs ran all the way down its back and to the tip of its tail which rounded out into a fierce looking club. Sickly grey in colour, it was disgusting to look at, its honey eyes stared down at Roy with mild interest, like a cat would look at a mouse before it ate it. "It is much improved from the one that Gabriel fought when he lost his arm." Yao said quietly, "It no longer targets humans at all, and it's bloodlust can be controlled until angel blood has actually been shed, instead of going insane at the mere whiff of one of your kind in it's vicinity." Mustang noted that its teeth were bigger than his forearm in length.
There was a wet sound, accompanied by a startled shout from Hughes. Roy spun just in time to see Ran's second knife fly, this one burying itself in Maes' throat rather than his shoulder. "Hughes!" Roy shouted as the man clutched at the blade, blood leaking out from around the wound. Roy dived forward as the man fell, shock still etched into every one of his features, his mouth opening and closing like a fish struggling for air. With a gurgle and a grim rattling wheeze, Hughes' previously rigid body went slack, toppling the final distance to the ground before Roy could catch him. Turning the man over, Roy's fears were confirmed when he stared into glassy eyes as the man's body started to quickly grow colder. Checking for a pulse and finding none, Roy felt Hughes' blood smearing his un-gloved hand. The man was dead. With a feral cry, Roy raised his hand and snapped in Ran Fan's direction. The girl nimbly dodged the furious blast and Roy prepared to snap again.
A deafening, bestial roar broke through the maddening red haze covering Roy's thoughts. He looked over his shoulder just in time to dodge the reptilian monster's clawed hind leg slamming down where he had been. It had changed completely from the calm and curious thing it had been before, now it was bellowing terribly as if in great pain, eyes rolling madly, tongue flicking out to taste the air. "CAPTAIN!" Havoc shouted just as the beast turned to charge again. Havoc was already firing at the animal, the shots being absorbed uselessly into its flesh, about as annoying as a fly. They left slight burn marks where they landed, but otherwise did no real damage.
Mustang's senses came back as the beast prepared to charge him once more and he took to the air with three quick flaps. Havoc immediately copied him, coming to meet him up near the ceiling. Roy scanned the floor of the chamber for Hughes' murderer, but the girl and her male counterpart were gone.
The monster let out another ear splitting roar, its head rolled left and right, eyes spinning insanely in their sockets. Its breath now was coming in huge, gushing snorts and Roy and Havoc were forced to move when a forepaw came swishing through the air towards them. Havoc fired desperately at the creature's hide. It snorted, not even noticing the gunfire, vision finally coming to rest on Hughes' dead body.
It lowered its head and sniffed at the corpse, muscles in its neck rippling and bulging. Roy took the creatures' momentary distraction as an opportunity to reach Havoc again. "Soldier." He said as the man fired uselessly, flapping every so often to remain airborne. "Get to the shuttle and get back to the ship."
"You're insane, Mustang." The man said, not changing his focus on the creature for a moment. "I'm not leaving you to fight that thing by yourself."
"It's an order, soldier." Mustang retorted, watching the beasts' tail flick, and its spine arch. "Someone has to warn Edward not to come."
The monster, seemingly having investigated the dead body enough, took it in its front teeth. Throwing what used to be Hughes up into the air, it opened its jaw wide before with a sickening, gut lurching snap, it closed its teeth around him. There was the sound of avian bones shattering and a rain of blood spilt forth from its mouth. Eyes roving madly, the creature turned to glance at Roy and Havoc, read foam and Hughes' blood dribbling down its neck. Half a wing was sticking out the side of its jaw, the grey feathers matted with spittle. With another quick snap, that too was gone.
Havoc had gone green. Mustang felt very sick himself, watching the ugly brutes tongue loll madly out of its mouth a single grey feather still stuck to the tip. The beast roared again, dislodging the feather which floated to the ground almost gracefully.
"Havoc." Roy's voice came out weakly, his body rocking with fine tremors from what he had just witnessed. "Get back to the ship. Do you really think you stand a chance against it? One of us has to come out of this alive."
"But Sir!"
"That's an order, Havoc." Mustang said acidly, focused now on avoiding the beasts claws and teeth. "I'll distract it; you just get out of here."
He saw the man nod out of the corner of his eye and he dived. The monster's head followed him, and he only managed to get out of the way of another of those disgusting, bone shattering bites. Havoc took the opportunity to get past the monster, to the light that was now pouring out of the other end of the enclosure.
Roy landed and instantly had to jump backwards as a claw sliced through the air where he'd just stood. He slipped slightly on the floor, the blood on the ground making travel treacherous. Havoc was muttering just audibly as he flew out of the building, Roy only catching snatches of what he was saying. "...Winds of fate... my path... thieves may steal..." Roy nearly smiled. It was an old warrior chant they'd learnt when they were children. He dodged another blow from the creature, trying to conserve his energy and his life for as long as possible.
The creature's attention shifted momentarily to where Havoc had passed though and it looked about to follow him. "I'm sorry, Hughes." Mustang whispered, taking some of the blood from the pool on the ground and smearing it over the only part of his skin he could access and that didn't already have blood covering it, his cheeks. The monster's head cocked and its nostrils flared as it spun remarkably quickly to look down at him. "Though the winds of fate should buffet my path, though thieves should steal from my purse..." Roy muttered, following Havoc's lead.
The creature reared and roared down at him, showering him with foul smelling spittle. Rows of fangs glinted with spit and blood, the wind from its roar blowing Mustang's hair back and making him reel. "I shall not fear. For I am a warrior."
The monster's head came down, mouth opening. Roy raised his fingers and snapped, sparks shooting from the tips. He focused the power of the Mustang house on his opponent. "I..." Flames, more than Roy had ever summoned before, engulfed the beast and he held them up through willpower alone, his supplies of energy next to empty. The creature shrieked in pain. "Am..." The flames burnt bright, blue and yellow. Hughes' face swum in Mustang's vision and the flames doubled in intensity as Mustang felt his expression twist to one of mercilessness. "STRONG." With one last death throe, the monster fell backwards, a charcoaled heap. The room smelt of burnt flesh and blood.
The flames died as Roy Mustang's legs gave way underneath him.
.
A/n: ...I can't believe I just wrote that.
This has probably been the chapter I've been dreading this whole fic. Now that it's written... I dunno. I feel horrible.
I'm sorry Hughes!
Please leave a review? -Dodges flying flaming dog poo-