Chapter 9

August 25th – September 1st

AN: This could be called the 'explanation chapter', where much of Angel's powers are explained and explored. It also explains why, in my story, Riza has been transferred back to Roy.

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August 25th – Military Headquarters, Central

Ed still couldn't believe it. The very idea seemed like some child's fantasy...and yet...

He'd been looking over Mangeli's files, and been disturbed by a sketch of the Gate. And even more shocked by the recordings following it.

Apparently, the dark arms so characteristic of any trip to the Gate were actual beings. Metaphysical creatures that Mangeli called 'daemons'. And in an effort to boost his alchemical power, Mangeli had merged his soul with one of them.

He had noted that this allowed him to ignore Equivalent Exchange and nullify alchemy if he so chose (Ed was strongly reminded of Father). He was able to perform alchemy without even the need to clap his hands, and if he imbued the essence of the daemon into his subjects, he was able to control them, utterly and completely. It was also the only way a human being could survive his transmutations – the daemon made their body and spirit more malleable, and gave them the strength to live through the ordeal.

But his notes said that the daemon hadn't been able to anchor in Winry. He couldn't control her. But Ed couldn't help wondering what made Winry so different. Why had the daemon been unable to latch onto her? How had she survived without it?

But Mangeli had recorded that Winry seemed to display several of the traits that the daemon imbued. He had noted that the daemon essence gave enhanced strength and dexterity, the malleability of the body made it heal faster, and enabled a smooth blend between human and animal.

And while Winry had shown little evidence of enhanced strength or dexterity, Mangeli had noted that she had healed remarkably quickly – even when taking into account the daemon essence. But she had been spared the compulsion to obey him.

So what did that mean? Was it simply that Winry was too headstrong for the daemon to rein her in, or was there something more?

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August 29th – Hidden Cellar, Central

"Try it again," Jade coaxed.

"My head hurts," Angel muttered, her voice surly.

"That means you need to practice."

"Well, what would you know about it? Ever treated someone with telepathy before?"

Jade bore Angel's grumbling calmly. "Try it again. What number am I thinking of?"

Angel's brow furrowed. Jade tried to hold the picture of 16 in her mind as clearly as she could. Being near Angel as she activated her telepathic powers was always strange – you couldn't see or hear anything, but you knew there was something happening.

"Sixteen," Angel said at last.

"Good. Now close your eyes."

Angel did so, and Jade picked up a scrap of cloth in her hand.

"I'm holding a piece of cloth."

Angel nodded.

Jade set it down. "Now I'm holding a wooden spoon."

"You're lying," Angel said instantly. "There's nothing in your hand."

They had found that Angel was particularly sensitive to lies. For some reason, she just seemed to know when someone was telling a lie, though she had to activate her telepathy to see what the truth was. Detection was second-nature, but correction took a bit more effort.

"That's good," Jade praised. "Keep your eyes closed, and I'll shuffle the cards."

The tatty deck was duly shuffled, and Jade began drawing cards, watching Angel's brow wrinkle as she struggled to read her mind and name them.

"Four of...hearts! Four of hearts! Ace of spades...ten of clubs...two of clubs...jack of diamonds..."

"How's your head?"

"Not so good."

"Then let's stop for now," Jade said, putting the deck away.

Angel's eyes opened, and a tired grin lit her face. "Any progress?"

"Well, we managed to get through nearly half an hour of exercises before you began to experience headaches. And then the ache never got bad enough for you to demand that we stop."

"So...improvement?"

"Definitely."

Angel grinned and stretched, her arms arching above her head, her wings fanning out to either side. "I think I'll go sleep for an hour or two – just until my head stops throbbing."

Jade smiled.

It had been several days since Angel had first started exploring her abilities, and she was already showing vast improvement. Her 'training' had started at Earnest's suggestion, who could dimly remember his father talking about Subject Delta, and what powers he hoped to imbue in her.

And so began the voyage of discovery.

With her background in nursing, they all felt Jade was the most qualified to monitor Angel's little 'experiments'. Coupled with Earnest's suggestions, they were able to get a fairly clear picture of what Angel could do.

She was possessed of unnatural strength and dexterity – without the corresponding musculature Jade would have expected to see. To be able to lift the wings, let alone fly, would have required a mass of muscle Angel simply didn't appear to have. Yet no one could doubt that she could fly – they saw evidence of it every day.

Her 'white fire' was something completely different. The large 'bonfire' that gave the cellar light was utterly harmless – they could shove their hands into it, and it felt like pushing their hands through mist. But if Angel hurled it from her fist, it acted like a battering ram of fire, destroying everything in it's path.

She was capable of turning her skin to metal. Skin, hair, fingernails, in short, anything made of keratin could be rearranged to resemble steel. The only problem was that Angel couldn't change her eyes – the lids, yes – but the eyes themselves couldn't become steel. But all that meant was the if she 'metaled-up' to avoid some kind of damage, she'd have to close her eyes as well.

But there was little damage she couldn't survive. As they'd determined when a barrel fell on her, Angel healed at a remarkable rate. Cuts and gashes would heal in under a minute, and when she'd tripped on one of wings and broken her wrist, the bone had reset in a matter of hours.

Her wings were permanent attachments, but they could be...retracted. Angel's body seemed to be very malleable when she 'metaled-up' – in one instance, she was able to extend and sharpen her fingers to resemble claws. While she was metal, her wings could somehow fold into her body, and if she then turned back to flesh with them still 'retracted', they remained so. The only evidence of their existence were two thin strips of metal on either side of her spine – even if she had shifted back to flesh and blood, the metal on her back remained if her wings were still 'retracted'. To bring them back, she had to shift back to her metal state, unfurl them, and shift back to flesh once more.

It seemed effortless, but Angel had told Jade that when her wings were retracted, it was like exercising a muscle. She couldn't hold it indefinitely, and she couldn't go to sleep with them retracted. Currently, the longest period of time she could hold them in for was only three hours. Beyond that, the strain became physically painful.

One of her quirks had been discovered by accident, when Jason, practicing some of his alchemy, had discovered he couldn't perform it with Angel around. For some reason, her presence nullified any attempt at alchemy. The circle might be perfect, all the materials might be there...but if Angel was anywhere in the vicinity, it simply wouldn't work. They'd worked especially hard at this, and now alchemy could be performed easily in her presence...unless she chose to stop it.

But there had been disasters too. Earnest had said his Dad mentioned invisibility, but when Angel tried it, all she got was an explosive headache. The attempt at long-range telepathy had been a miserable failure too. Angel could read someone's mind if they were holding a picture or a word in their heads as clearly as they could, or if she was looking into their eyes. But over a long distance? Nothing.

Watching Angel progress, Jade could only thank her lucky stars that Mangeli's brainwashing hadn't worked on her. If they'd faced her as a enemy, how could they have possibly stopped her?

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August 30th – Hidden Cellar, Central

"Let's go over what we know about, from the top," Jade began, pulling out the scrappy notebook she used to record these 'sessions' in. She always felt very professional doing this – much more exciting than being a nurse in a small town hospital.

Angel raised her eyebrows, an unsubtle signal to begin.

Jade had taken a medical exam, of course, to go into nursing, and so had a rudimentary understanding of amnesia. These 'sessions' with Angel were like their exercises, except they didn't stretch her abilities...they stretched her memory.

Ever day for at least an hour, Angel and Jade would try to piece together Angel's past.

"For one thing, your appearance. You're definitely very pretty, but I think we can rule out modeling as a career."

"How so?"

"For one thing, you don't have the look of someone who went on constant diets or never touched a chocolate in her life. It isn't tendons and bones under your skin, it's a layer of lean muscle."

"So...?"

"So you've got a body that, while no hard labourer, is no stranger to work. We can't judge by physical strength, but from your musculature, I'd say you used your arms a lot more than your legs. Your legs are quite fit, but I'd say it's the fitness that comes from the innocuous. Jogging around the block, walking the dog, running to the store, those kinds of things. But your arms are obviously accustomed to extensive, regular use. I'd usually see this kind of thing with part-time weightlifters, rowers, masseuses, mechanics, those kinds of people."

"So you think I did something like that?"

"Yes, but one aspect I find extremely puzzling is your fingers."

"My fingers?" Angel held her hand in front of her face, flexing and stretching the digits. "What about them?"

"They're strong, but they're also refined, precise. At first, I thought piano player, but musicians generally develop a curve to their fingers, and that was conspicuously absent. If you'd been a musician long enough to develop your finger like that, you'd have a very prominent curve. But you have a surgeon's fingers, a clock-mender's fingers...you see my problem?"

"Not really."

"These kind of fingers are used to precision work, but your arms are used to hard labour. Put them together, and it just doesn't add up. If you work was in your strength, why have such delicate fingers? If your work was in your delicacy, why have such strong arms?"

"So, my job is essentially a mystery."

"It is now, but have you had any memories return to you lately?"

"Not really," Angel's brow furrowed. "I think...I can swear...someone told me I wasn't a killer. I'm sure of it. Someone..."

"Any idea who this 'someone' is?"

"No, and that's the worst of it. Whenever I try to think of him – and I'm fairly sure he's a male, by the way – all that comes up is this flash of gold."

"Any idea what he was to you?"

"Nope."

"Father? Brother? Cousin? Uncle? Friend? Lover?"

"I...I don't know."

"Pick one."

"I can't!"

"Then that's because none of them feel right. But don't try to force it. The more you strain, the tighter your mind locks the memories up."

"Sorry."

"And don't apologise. Now, have you had any bizarre dreams lately, any that you can't explain?"

Back and forth it went, Jade struggling to paint a picture of who Angel was in the Before, and Angel struggling to dredge memories from the black sea of her mind.

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September 1st – Military Headquarters, Central

Roy knew he was in trouble. Spreading rumours about military corruption and dissuading several State Alchemist candidates from taking the exam did not a good career move make.

But...anything to foil Wrath's plans did a satisfied Roy make.

"You are, of course, aware why I have asked to speak to the two of you," Bradley said flatly, coming to stand in front of his desk.

"I am aware of why you chose to see me, sir," Roy answered, "But I am not aware of why you chose to speak to Lieutenant Hawkeye."

It was true, Roy wasn't aware. All he knew was that he didn't like it.

"I have received reports of some...undesirable conduct on your part, Colonel Mustang. Conduct which may lead the common man to think badly of the military."

Roy tried to keep his expression politely interested. As though he recognised the charges were weighty, but thought whoever filed them was a crackpot.

"You are aware that you were warned against such conduct several months ago."

Roy nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Riza growing tense. So far, her presence seemed almost pointless – the Fuhrer hadn't even asked her to record their conversation.

"You examined Mangeli's notes, correct?" Bradley asked, the change of topic throwing Roy for a loop.

"Yes, sir..."

"You are aware that the essence of what he refers to as a 'Gate daemon' will render a human subject utterly obedient to the creature who plants it within them?"

"Yes, sir..."

"And you are aware that such a creature need only touch the human possessing the daemon essence to activate their complete, unswerving and utterly mindless obedience?"

"Yes, sir..."

"Good."

Then Wrath reached over and touched Riza's forearm.

Riza froze, and her eyes went blank. Not cold or distant, just blank. Nobody home.

"Stand up, Lieutenant Hawkeye," Wrath ordered.

She did. And Roy gained a sudden, personal understanding of what it was like to have his blood freeze in his veins.

Riza was there, yes, but only in body. The mind and spirit behind those red eyes seemed to have vanished, extinguished as swiftly as one might blow out a candle.

Wrath hadn't finished speaking. "Take out your gun and prime it."

She did so. Roy's dazed mind wondered if Wrath's plan was to have Riza shoot him...until he made her do something that was, to Roy, far more frightening.

"Place the barrel against your temple and prepare to fire."

"No!" Roy yelled, finally snapped out of his stunned stupor by the prospect of watching Riza die before his eyes.

"She won't listen to you, Colonel." Wrath didn't exactly smirk, but Roy could practically feel his satisfaction. "In this state, it is me and me alone that she obeys. With no thought to anyone else, or even her own well-being."

"No, no..."

He looked right into Roy's eyes as he said, "I could order her to blow her head off, to walk off a cliff...and she'd do it without a second thought."

"Please no..." Roy choked out, the words catching in his throat. When was the last time he had begged for anything? "Don't, please..."

"You beg well, Colonel. But it will take a lot of groveling to dissuade me from having one of the most prominent thorns in my side kill herself. So I suggest getting on your knees."

Bile rose in Roy' throat at the thought of getting on his knees before the monster in front of him. But then he looked at Riza, eyes empty, gun pressing into the side of her head, poised to end her life. Between her life and his pride, there was no contest.

So Roy closed his eyes, dropped to to his knees, and began pleading.

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September 1st – Military Headquarters, Central

When he tired of Roy's humiliation, Wrath flicked his finger against Riza's neck. Her eyes rolled up, her body sagged, and she would have fallen if Roy hadn't leapt to his feet to catch her. She was limp and unresponsive as a corpse as he lowered her to the floor, the tightness in his chest – present ever since that moment when Riza's eyes went blank – finally eased.

"I hope this lesson has been well learned, Colonel," Bradley said, striding out of the office. "All it takes a moment of contact, and she will do anything I order her to – whether it's to shoot you in the back, or turn the gun on herself. You have overstepped your bounds one too many times. Do it once more...and I won't vouch for Lieutenant Hawkeye's safety."

Roy was so focused on Riza he barely noticed when the Fuhrer left the room.

"Come on, Hawkeye," he whispered softly, trying to rouse her.

Her face twisted into a grimace and her breath hissed through her teeth. Her eyes opened quickly, instantly evaluating the situation. Roy could see Riza's confusion at being on the floor of the Fuhrer's office, held in her superior's arms.

"Sir...?"

"Hawkeye, are you...alright?"

"Fine, sir. But what happened? Did I...faint?"

Roy smiled, but there was little humour in it. "No quite."

He told her everything. The daemon essence Wrath had somehow implanted into her body, the way it could wipe her mind blank of anything but the need to obey the homunculus, the way Wrath had demanded Roy kneel and beg for her life.

"What...what did you do, sir?"

Another joyless smile. "You're still alive, aren't you?"

They shared a long, grim silence. Wrath's message was clear – Riza had been transferred back to manipulate him. His previous demonstration had been purely to humiliate Roy and remind him of his place.

And Roy was left wondering. What could he do? Wrath could kill or injure Riza within moments, provided he was given an opportunity to come into physical contact with her – which meant Roy couldn't do anything without risking Riza.

And frankly, that was something Roy never wanted to do.