Notes: Never mind. Nothing much to say here - go ahead and read^^

Chapter Three

That was a convicted criminal? That smartly dressed man with a pleasant face and demanor? Tom didn't know what to think.


Roy Mustang. Roy Mustang. This man... is Roy Mustang?

The Flame of Anarchy - the arsonist and thief, brilliant criminal...

Krowehill stared, her mouth hanging open. He couldn't be... He looked so normal. She'd been expecting a savage, bear of a man when she read all those countless articles on Mustang. But no, this person was a gentleman. A good listener, not the violent type, either - just normal. Jane could feel herself reeling from shock, confusion and amazement. Oh, yes, and fear.

"P-please... Please don't kill me..." It was the only thing she could manage, in a pathetic whisper.

He only laughed, as if she'd just told him a particularly amusing joke. She stared.

"Why would I? You're a nice lady. I'm no longer a soldier, and I have no desire to kill any more people. The hundreds I burned to ashes are enough. I'm an arsonist, robber and alchemist, but I'm no murderer."

It seemed as though he meant it. Jane said carefully, "An alchemist?"

"Yes."

Krowehill didn't know much about the science. Or was it magic? All she was aware of was that alchemy was difficult, and beacuse of that, there weren't many people practising it. This person must be a genius... Jane thought, forgetting about the 'convicted criminal' part for a moment.

"Don't be too envious. Because of my skills, I got turned into a human weapon... Sometimes it's best to be a nobody."

Jane saw the truth in that. Instead of saying so, she asked, "Why are you here, Mr. Mustang? I've heard that there's a dozen police forces after you..." Her voice dropped down to a murmur, fearing Tom, or someone else, would hear her.

"There are. But I really wanted some coffee."

"You're insane." Krowehill blurted out before she could stop herself. She cursed herself and her big mouth.

Mustang just gave a cocky grin. "Thank you."


That night, Roy saw that he was running low on his funds. He needed money, or at least something to sell.

Ah. Time to work again.

He'd found a cheap motel with an owner who was half-blind, toothpick of a man called Sanders. He introduced himself as Jonathan Fletcher, after someone he used to know when he was only a teenager. After leaving his few posessions in his room, he exited the building, telling Sanders that he was going out for dinner, as there didn't seem to be any room service. Where to today? Unlike most other days, Roy didn't have a target in mind. Anyone will do... I just need enough to buy myself food and clothes... He decided to head over to the richest part of town, where the people he stole from didn't have to suffer. Were his clothes good enough for that? He knew he had to blend in. Ah, well, the trenchcoat would have to do. After all, he had nothing else.

Roy pulled on his gloves. The pair didn't match - one he'd had since he was a colonel in the military. It had his transmutation circle for fire alchemy drawn on the back. He'd made the other quite recently. It had a circle meant for earth-based alchemy instead. As Roy looked at the black circle, he felt a surge of pride. It had taken a lot of research and work - nearly a month to fully develop and perfect it. But then his thoughts wandered to that woman he'd talked to this afternoon. Damn her, damn her. Thanks to her, his mind was now in turmoil. Why did she have to ask questions like, "Don't you feel anything when you steal?" or "Why do you burn down buildings?" It irritated him, for one thing. They were things he didn't like to think about.

Of course I feel something when I rob people. He knew stealing was a terrible thing to do. Every time he swiped someone's wallet or broke into some rich person's mansion, there was a guilty twinge in his heart that hurt unbearably. But it was something he had to do.

I burn down government buildings because I hate the government. That was pretty straightforward. The government had torn so much from him that it would be odd not to feel at least a little hatred towards it.

But Jane had asked the fatal question.

"Why did you become a criminal in the first place?"

Roy couldn't answer that one, not for her. In fact, there was no person in this world he could think of to whom he'd be willing to reveal that secret. She had no right to know. He'd stood up to leave that cafe as soon as she had asked. Ignoring the look of surprise in her face, Roy had put down a few coins, and strode out, saying that he might be back tomorrow. Their little chat was over for the day. He had felt Krowehill's eyes drilling into his back as he exited. So what if she reported him? He'd just escape again, like he'd done so many times before.

For some reason, though, he felt like going back to the place tomorrow. Talking with a lady was very entertaining. Even if it was her fault that he seemed to be falling into depression again...

It was because of the memories she'd aroused in him. Of Riza, of Havoc, Falman, Fuery, Breda... Don't think about them again... Roy told himself. Not now. You've got a job to do.

He walked briskly, his brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes, hands in pockets, looking like any other man on a moody walk. All the while, he scanned the streets for an empty house. Roy felt his stomach growling - he'd skipped dinner, for he knew that he operated better on an empty stomach. It sharpened his senses - hadn't it been the same in the Ishbal war?

Roy finally spotted a large house with its lights off. Checking the empty street one last time, he vaulted over the low fence, and landed quietly on the soft grass of the other side. For good measure, Roy went around to the back of the house, making sure not to leave inprints of his shoes in the grass. Then, he placed his gloved hand on the wall, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

Hope I don't need to do this shit again for a long time...

He transmutated a hole in the wall, tall enough for him through walk through.

"Sorry," he murmured, and made his way into the deserted room.


Tom took a glance at Jane and the stranger, who were somehow engaged in a seemingly comfortable conversation. He shook his head. That girl's a wonder... How the hell does she get so friendly with someone she's probably never seen before? I'd never have the guts. As the thought about it again, Tom realized that it had been over a week since he'd first seen Jane and the guy talking together. Perhaps they weren't strangers any more. All for the better, thought Tom. He knew how Jane had a difficult time making friends because of her shy nature.

He grinned to himself, remembering how he'd first met the girl, and turned to look out the window - it was always nice to watch the fountain in the square outside.

Only today, it was obstructed by a large car. At first Tom was annoyed, but a closer look told him that it was a military van. There were obviously some police around, as well. Was something going on? Nothing seemed out of the ordinary... And why were they in front of his shop?

Tom went outside, failing to hear a shouted order from another customer, and called out,

"Hey!"

One of the authorities turned his way. Tom went up to him. "What's going on here?"

"Sir," the policeman said, "I'm afraid we must investigate your shop."

"Investigate? Why? Why my store?" Tom's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

The pliceman, whose nameplate read 'Richards', turned to another one behind him. They shared a few words; Richards received a small clipboard from his comrade.

"In your shop, Mr...?" The Richards looked up.

"Matthews."

"Mr. Matthews, there's a convicted arsonist and robber in your shop. We've come to take him into custody."

"There's no criminal in my cafe, Officer." Tom said in a steely voice, unlike his usual, carefree self.

"I'm afraid there is. We've been watching this place since Tuesday, sir." Richards glanced at his clipboard again. "Did an Oriental man not enter?"

"...Oriental...?" Tom's brow furrowed. He immediately remembered the strange - he was about to answer when he remembered that Jane was with him right now. That was a convicted criminal? That smartly dressed man with a pleasant face and demanor? Tom didn't know what to think. And, he hadn't done anything terrible just yet - in fact, wasn't he still having coffee and dounuts with Jane?

Richards, obviously noticing Tom's hesitation, spoke to his partner. Tom was suddenly afraid. "Wait! I don't know - I was asleep - don't - there's people inside - " The words came out all jumbled. He was getting desperate.

"We're just getting him. We won't harm anyone else - if they don't get in the way." Richards ignored him.

If they don't get in the way... "Then why are taking all those guns?"

"Roy Mustang is a highly dangerous criminal. We must immobilize him immediately."

"Stop!" As Tom tried to run forward, another policeman caught him around the shoulders and held him tight. "Stop it! You're gonna kill someone!"


Sorry for the long gap between the update.... I had lots of stuff to do... So yeah. Please review!