Braiding the Noose with Indian Rope
Disclaimer: nothing, nothing, NOTHING… - This is what I own of FMA (although I do own the crazy psychopath, not that that's necessarily a good thing, but that's really it…). Thank you Hiromu Arakawa, for making your series. It is fun to play with. : 3
JUST A REMINDER: Rated for the three M's: Murder, Mutilation, and general Mayhem…. And one L: Language.
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Chapter 5: Of Preparing and Despairing
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November 23, 1919-- Central City
Tired golden eyes groggily opened to a colorless cement ceiling. How long have I been here? What time is it…? The yellow-haired man though dazedly. He lifted his head from the back of the chair and peered around the concrete box he was confined in, but there were no windows to indicate the time, only darkness. The man heaved frustrated sigh and let his face fall forward onto his chest.
His amber gaze trailed down the arm of the leather chair, finally stopping to view the slight twitch of the fingers on his flesh hand as they futilely attempted to escape the strong bonds on his wrist. He let his eyes wander to the other leather arm of the chair were his metal hand rested.
He blinked uncomprehendingly when he only caught sight of red fabric. Where's my hand? He frowned and tried to move his metal palm. Panic settled in his stomach when he got no response from the automail. Maybe it just got banged around too much… He jerked his shoulder and tried to connect the steel arm back into his socket. Sick realization washed over him when he didn't feel any movement in his entire arm.
"Oh, Edward, nice to see that you're awake." The shackled man's tawny head shot up in time to see the masked figure appear from the shadows.
"Where's my arm," Ed growled menacingly.
The pale man laughed, "I've seen what you can do with those tricky hands of yours and I can't very well let them get in the way of the fun we're going to have, so I just took one from you while you were snoozing. Now, I really should go and get us some breakfast, you must be hungry, so I'll be back in one second."
The tall man turned to go, his dark cape swirling around his knees. "Wait! Why did you come down here if you're just going to leave?" Ed called to the man's thin back.
"I just wanted to see your reaction when I took something important from you. And I must say it was very entertaining… I'll just have to try it again sometime soon," The man flashed a quick, maniacal grin in the boy's direction and slowly drifted out of the sparse light into the shadows again.
"Hold on," Ed cried suddenly. He heard the sound of footsteps stop, then an exasperated exhale from the blackness.
"What?" was the annoyed response.
"I need to pee," Ed stated, feeling his cheeks flush.
"You… what?" The silhouette asked in disbelief.
"I need. To take. A piss… Although, I could just go on myself if you don't want to let me out… But that wouldn't be very fun for either of us, now would it?" The blond boy let a smirk creep across his face as he heard the hidden man snarl angrily.
The man emerged from the darkness, stalking over to the alchemist, his thin lips, from what Ed could see of his face, curved upward as he gnashed his teeth together. He grabbed the boy's tan chin and pulled a black scarf from his pale hand.
"How di-" Ed managed to gasp before the fabric was roughly stuffed into his mouth. Once Edward's mouth had been gagged, the man proceeded to simultaneously pull more scarves out of his ivory hands to bind the blond, tying the thick strips around the rest of his limbs.
When Edward's arms were secured to his waist and his feet were firmly knotted together, the mysterious man unlocked the steel manacles and pulled Ed out of his wooden prison. Ed stumbled as he was led to a corner of the room, the fabric making his movements jerky and awkward.
Ed, still slightly uncoordinated, was shoved into the corner of the small cement room. He looked around the impenetrable box he was being held in, searching for a door, but everywhere he looked, he only saw shadows, as if the entire room was lost in the impenetrable night.
While he was standing in the corner, Edward mumbled into the scarf, trying to get the man's attention.
"What do you want now?" The enshrouded wraith of a man asked, already annoyed with the boy's "games". He let his pale hand glide elegantly to the young man's mouth and pluck the silky fabric from between his teeth.
"Well, I can't go with you watching," Ed said giving up on his quest to find the exit, and instead gazing innocently at the masked man with big caramel eyes.
The ghostly man let a frustrated growl emerge from his throat and echo throughout the room.
"Guess, I'll just have make due," Ed sighed despairingly, seeing that the man was obviously getting fed up with him. He looked upward as he heard a splatter of liquid hit the dirty ground. He let his yellow eyes drift slowly across the ceiling, noting that it was as covered in blood as the table the girl, Sarah, had lay on not long ago. What has this psycho got planned for me anyway…?
When the flow of urine subsided, the tall man quickly pulled up the zipper of Edward's military pants and began to lead him back to the leather chair. Ed tried to resist, but the man was surprisingly strong and without the use of his hand or feet, Ed couldn't push him away.
Thick metal bands were locked back into place around Ed's wrists and ankles, successfully preventing him from escape.
Once the flaxen-haired man was seated and strapped down, the pale apparition leaned down, looking Ed in the eyes, "Edward, since we've already played one of your games, we might as well play one of mine… That is, if you want you're breakfast still."
The man chuckled, then disappeared into the shadows once more, his cape sweeping behind him.
Edward leaned his head against the back of the chair to wait until the lunatic returned with his food. His head snapped upward as he heard a gentle squeak coming from the blackness. It slowly grew louder until a large table appeared followed by the black-clad man. The man parked the daintily covered table in front of the Edward, hiding the other gore-soaked table from view.
Ed allowed his eyes to wash over the cloth. His face contorted in confusion as he looked at three flimsy cardboard boxes, all lined in a row, and an expensive looking dagger resting on the tabletop.
"You look a bit baffled Edward. Here, let me explain." The man tapped each box lightly with a bony finger.
"You see, I do have your meal under one of these, and in just one second I'm going to let your hand free, and you have to pick which one. Not very complicated directions, I'm sure even you can comprehend that, right?" The man stated condescendingly, walking over to Edward and releasing his caged palm.
Ed frowned slightly, then pointed to the middle box questioningly, not entirely sure what the man wanted him to do.
The corpselike man chuckled, "No Edward, I should have known you would be too stupid to actually do something right. You have to strike the box, so it collapses to reveal your food," his dark eyes brightened as he watched Ed hesitantly raise his hand, about to flatten the middle box he had just pointed to.
Before the honey-haired man had the chance to hit the cardboard, the man interrupted casually.
"Oh, and I almost forgot, you might want to be careful on your decision, because I may have stuck in a nasty little surprise in two of the other boxes. They're only nails, but I suppose I really shouldn't have said 'nasty little', since they are quite big, and haven't been cleaned in a while, so it might sting just a bit."
"What?! There's no way in hell I'm doing that!" Edward shouted, hastily curling his hand into a fist and bringing it to his chest, trying to shield it from the crazed man.
The man slinked into the dim lighting and picked up the knife from the table, twirling it in his large palm with a practiced ease.
"On no, Edward, you can't just ruin the game like that. I played yours, now you have to play mine. I won't let you just quit like that."
"What's the knife for then?" Ed asked carefully, trying not to show any fear to the masked man in front of him.
"Just in case you decided to stop playing. I told you I wouldn't just let you quit, so it's either you have a chance to save your hand with the nails, or I save us some time and cut off your hand. It's your choice… choose wisely." The man's dark eyes narrowed in glee, looking forward to watching Edward squirm under his stare.
The blond gritted his teeth and laughed, "I'm not choosing either one, how about that. It's a stupid game… You could have three nails under those boxes, and there's no way for me to tell. I can't really trust you 'cause you're a psychopath; so I'd really rather die and keep both of my hands then die without any. You can just kill me now, but I really doubt you will, because you even told me that you have these 'plans' for me, so really, it's your choice," Ed said determinedly, flashing the man a cocky smile.
Ed heard the man roar as he jumped toward the trapped boy. He felt a sharp sting on his cheek as the wraithlike man backhanded him across his face. The man picked up the dagger and lifted it over his towering head, bringing it down with as much force as his thin arms allowed.
Edward's eyes widened as he saw the blade glint frighteningly in the light. Damn, I thought he was bluffing… Al… Winry… I'll never see them again… Ed shut his eyes tightly, waiting for the shooting pain of the dagger entering his abdomen. He heard the dull thud as the knife made impact, but he felt…
Nothing.
Ed looked down at the hilt of the sword embedded in his stomach. He let out a shaky breath and swallowed loudly, then gulped in big breaths of air, desperately trying to figure out why he was still alive. He blinked the liquid out of his eyes, … is this sweat or tears…? He thought, still panting frantically.
"I called your bluff, you called mine," The man leaned down to whisper in Edward's ear, "and you were right, the food was in the middle box."
The demented man moved away from the still panicked boy, poking the dagger in and out of the flesh of his hand, but leaving no cuts or blood. "This is a funny little sword, isn't it? It's a great illusion, looks almost real, doesn't it? I think every game should be at least a little educational, so for our first I thought I'd just teach you a small lesson in obedience, but you know Edward," the skeletal man said, his tone suddenly turning grim, "the next time you want to be a smart ass, I will get the real thing… And that wouldn't be fun for either of us… Not fun for you, at least."
The pallid man took Ed's hand and bound it back to the leather arm, then leaned down and rested his forehead against the tawny-eyed alchemist's, letting Edward feel the coolness of the mask and the warmth of his skin, and forcing the young man to look into his slanted, black eyes. Xingese…? Ed thought uncertainly, catching a fleeting glimmer mix of insanity and hatred in the man's empty pupils.
The man stood up and patted Ed's still stinging cheek. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" He asked, smirking slightly.
Edward glanced at the blood-covered table behind the three boxes, where Sarah had been, and nodded reluctantly. The man smiled then exited into the shadows, wheeling the small table with him. Edward heard the door slam, leaving him alone in the dreary room.
Ed's eyes wandered down to his stomach as it gave a thunderous growl, telling him that he never did get his breakfast.
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November 23, 1919-- 11:39 AM, Central Headquarters
A disturbing picture of a crime scene on the newspaper's front page was slammed onto the desk with a resounding thud. The raven-haired Fuhrer let his dark eyes trail up the tanned arm and onto the round face, stopping only to peer into narrowed silver eyes- ones that had seen too much for such a young man- angrily glaring down at him.
"They've given him a name, Mustang," Alphonse Elric growled fiercely.
"…What," Mustang asked dumbly, trying to make sense of the younger Elric's statement.
"The 'Mad Magician', that's what they're calling him now; from the way he's been killing people. The reporters seem to have realized that people are more likely to buy a newspaper if they're terrified of what this guy will do next, and so, as their biggest star, they gave him a name. No one really knows how he's been doing it, so they're all claiming it's magic or something, and now this psycho's got brother, and you're just sitting on your butt, doing nothing. For all we know brother could be dead," Al said, on the verge of hysteria.
"Calm down, Alphonse, let me ex-"
"No," the bronze-haired boy interrupted, "Winry said you told her you would send people out yesterday. She said that you told her not to worry, that you'd find brother in no time, a day tops. Well, it's been a day since you called, and now, this morning I find a newspaper on my doormat saying that brother could be dead, because the lunatic who's been cutting up these girls has got my brother. You know, I practically had to knock Winry out to keep her from charging down here and killing you herself. And I only came because I want to help, I can help you find him," Al shouted, grabbing the front of Roy's neatly pressed uniform.
"Wait, so you're saying that Fullmetal's in the paper?" Roy asked calmly, gently prying Alphonse's vice-like grip from the blue cloth of his uniform. He held out his hand expectantly, waiting for Al to give him the paper.
Al silently passed the roll of black and white print to the Fuhrer, still fuming. Mustang took the paper and, after smoothing out the dent in the middle of the sheet, caused by Al's tense grip, looked at the front page and began reading.
Damn, I can't believe the information has leaked out so quickly. If the reporters have found out about Ed already… The blue-eyed man's thought's petered out as he finished reading the article.
"Good…" Mustang sighed, immensely relieved that the media hadn't gotten word of the missing Elric yet.
"What'd you mean, 'good'?" Alphonse snarled, slamming his palms on the polished desktop.
Roy turned his solemn eyes to the copper-haired man, "I mean it's good that they haven't found out about your brother yet-"
"It's good! How can you say it's 'good'! I bet you're just trying to cover it up so you can keep the people's support aren't you? You don't give a damn about brother, do you?" Al cut in, his hands clenching into fists, silently challenging Mustang.
"No that's not it. Alphonse, just listen to me. And don't interrupt," Mustang countered with a scathing look to the still simmering young man, hoping that Alphonse would still be polite, even in his rage. "We have to be very careful around this, what was it," Roy quickly glanced at the paper, then turned once more to Al, "'Mad Magician'. He's been killing more people now that the media's involved. He probably wants the attention, and now that he's got your brother, the 'Hero of the People', well, that'll cause a huge uproar with the people. But since no one knows about your brother yet, then Fullmetal will most likely be safe."
"So, what, you're saying that you're just going to pretend this didn't ever happen and hope that it doesn't get brother killed! And maybe get around to saving him if you think that the reporters won't notice!" Alphonse yelled. He grabbed the paper from Roy's hands and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way.
Roy sighed, frustrated. He looked at the large oak door and slowly got out of his seat. I definitely screwed that up wonderfully, he thought bitterly. Better go out and talk to Al before he does something stupid and gets himself killed.
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November 23, 1919-- 11:50 AM, Central Headquarters
The blond woman heard the heavy door of Roy's office slam loudly. She heard footsteps coming down the hallway and stomping towards her office.
Riza stood up slowly from her chair, waiting for the young man to come out into the large expanse that was her office. I really shouldn't have let him in to see Roy when he was so upset, she thought, worried. I've never even heard Al slam a door; what could Roy have said to make him so angry.
The brown-haired boy opened the door leading to her room quietly, hoping not to disturb the gun-wielding woman.
"Alphonse?" She asked, unsure.
He looked up in time for her to see the slight glitter of tears at the corner of his pale eyes, before they were hastily scrubbed away.
"I-I'm sorry Mrs. Hawkeye, I didn't mean to interrupt your work," Alphonse said apologetically.
The red-eyed woman walked over to Al, gently touching his arm, trying to comfort the boy. Al looked at the hand resting on his shoulder then followed her limb to look into her eyes.
"What happened in there? Are you alright?" She asked quietly. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened as two arms were suddenly wrapped around her waist and Al's bent his body so his head could rest under her chin. She made herself relax and allowed her hand to rest on the Al's soft bronze hair, while the other started to stroke his back soothingly.
"No, he doesn't even care about brother," Alphonse spat miserably; letting a slight tremor run thought his hunched form.
"He does care, Al, we both do," Hawkeye stated simply.
Alphonse pushed her away and straightened so he could look into her eyes. "He sure as hell doesn't seem like it," he said, his eyes flashing angrily.
"No, Alphonse, he does, he's already got a full search party planned. He's going to send them out later tonight," she said confidently.
"And what's he going to do with that? He doesn't even know where brother is… No one does…" Al said, his eyes downcast.
"No, we think we know where Edward is," Riza said. Al's head shot up to study her face, searching for any trace of a lie. "We got an anonymous tip. It's our only lead, so we're taking it," she explained.
"What!?" Al said desperately, hope burning in his eyes, "I want to go, I can h-"
"No, Alphonse," Roy interjected, stepping thorough the open door to Riza's office, "I already said you can't."
"And why not?" Al snarled gruffly. "I don't care what you say. I want to go."
"Alphonse, just think of your brother," Mustang declared.
"I am. I'm the only one who is!" Al exclaimed.
"No, Al, you don't understand. What I'm saying is that your brother has worked too hard and too long for you to get into trouble now. He's given up a lot so you can go to school and live the normal life you two have always wanted. You don't want to go screwing it up, do you? And I really don't think it was Fullmetal's plan for you to get yourself killed, either," the black-haired man snapped harshly.
Al looked down, suddenly finding his feet to be very interesting. "I still want to go with you. I just want to find him," the brown-haired man said guiltily.
"I know, Alphonse, we all do. I know it's hard for you, and I don't want you to have to worry anymore, so would you stop agonizing over this a little if I was the one to lead the search party?" Roy asked decisively, placing a firm hand on Alphonse's broad shoulder.
Al and Hawkeye both looked at Roy in shock.
"Maybe…" Al mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his head away stubbornly.
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November 23, 1919-- 12:20 PM, Central Vantish Apartment Buildings
The yellow-haired mechanic stared blankly down into the coffee cup she hadn't touched yet. She heard the door close quietly and instantly sprang out of her chair to run down the hallway and into the open arms of Alphonse Elric.
"How'd it go?" She asked, pulling away and looked for any sign of emotional damage, mutely scrutinizing Al's round face.
Al exhaled slowly, letting some of the tension in his muscles melt away, "It went alright I guess… I mean, he did offer to find brother himself, but I'm still not sure if Mr. Mustang cares about brother or about how the public sees him. But he's sending a search party later tonight and I really hope they find him, but if they don't then I have to do something about it... I can't just leave brother there with that lunatic…" Al trailed off, lost in thought. "Oh, and he told me not to worry so much," he said in an off-hand tone, his eyes glazed, looking off into the distance.
Winry reached her hand up to sweep the brown bangs from Al's eyes. "Well, it's good that he cares enough to go look for Ed. At least now I won't have to go down there and kick his ass." Winry smiled slightly as she heard a chuckle from Al.
The cerulean-eyed girl wrapped her arms gently around Al's broad chest again, hiding her face against his shoulder, trying to conceal the wetness creeping up onto her lashes.
"And I really hope they find him too, Al," Winry suddenly whispered, making a valiant effort to ignore the constricting of her throat and the tears leaking onto her cheeks. Al's arms tightened around Winry's back, giving her a reassuring squeeze.
She heard mismatched steps as Paninya sauntered through the kitchen and into the room where Al and Winry were standing.
"Oh, sorry…" the dark-haired girl said sheepishly, scratching the back of her head with automail fingers.
"Wait," Winry called, as Paninya turned to leave. She probably feels like she's intruding or something, Winry thought worriedly. The golden-haired girl beckoned to Paninya, inviting her into their arms, welcoming her into their small broken family. Winry's eyes darted to Al when she heard a small sniffle. She glanced over to Paninya, who anxiously met her eyes, and then the dark pupils swung back to Al.
Paninya quickly strode across the room and wound her ebony arms around the two despairing occupants in the room, prepared to shoulder some of their sorrow.
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November 23, 1919-- Central
The golden-haired man strained his yellow eyes into the darkness as he heard the soft thud of footsteps stalking around the cement cell.
"Well, Edward, the military seems to be looking for you," A voice snickered through the obscurity.
"And how would you know that?" Ed growled, aggravated, still tying to catch a glimpse of the man's cloak to be prepared for when the phantom man emerged from the blackness.
"I sent a little tip to our grand Fuhrer Mustang," the concealed man explained haughtily. "I figured he wouldn't be able to find you on his own," he continued, allowing obvious distain to color his tone.
"Why did you tell them? Do you want them to find me?" Ed asked, incredulously, pinpointing the sound of the man's deep, scratchy voice and whipping his blond head around to follow the man's progress through the room.
"I told them because it's in my nature to put on a good show, and I can't very well do that if I don't have an audience," the man chuckled.
"And how are you going to do that?" Edward asked, sensing impending pain for him.
The pale man slipped from the shadows right in front of Edward. The blond man backed away from the man as far as his chair would allow. I don't like that look on his face, Ed thought, panicking slightly.
Ed saw a quick flash of light as something shiny was brought from under the man's sweeping cloak. A thin stream of liquid was spray through the air, erupting from the glistening capsule. Tawny eyes followed the gush of liquid to it's source, only to see a… NEEDLE!! The man advanced toward Ed, a wicked grin growing on the half of his face that wasn't hidden by the ivory mask.
"Stay away from me," Ed snarled, trying desperately to free his hands and feet.
Ed gasped, as the narrow strip of metal was jammed into his arm. He felt the harmful solution pulsing through his veins, gradually making his head swim and his eyes droop. After a couple of minutes his head dropped heavily onto his chest and black dots flew across his blurred vision. He felt nauseous… If only that guy would stop dancing all over the place, I wouldn't feel so awful.
The man stroked the hair away from Ed's forehead, making gentle, almost paternal shushing sounds, strongly reminding Edward of the first time he saw Hughes with his newborn daughter, brushing the thin yellow curls from her puffy face. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes open… I'm so tired, he thought, shaking his head sluggishly to stay awake.
"I know you're sleepy Edward, just close your eyes and let yourself drift away," the man said soothingly. Ed blinked his eyes in confusion, each time he closed his eyes was even more difficult to open, as the man began to hum a tune that was so familiar, almost like a lullaby, if he could just place where it was from… Ah, Mom used to sing that to us… Ed thought before his eyes closed, unable to open them again. Then everything was silent.
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Sorry for the wait, if it's any consolation, it's the longest chappie I've written so far… please don't kill me…
I always get annoyed when people put characters in a prison or box or whatever, all tied up, and the characters never seem to need to go to the bathroom, it's just a bit strange to me, so I just had to add that in here… sorry, I couldn't help myself… : )
I must admit… I'm addicted to reviews; I love hearing what you guys think, so if you all would let me get my fix, well, that would be WONDERFUL!! I want more, More, MORE!! HAHAHAAAA! Oh jeez, I feel like a heroin addict… ew… not good… but I just can't control myself when I find that people are actually reading!
Flames and constructive criticism welcome too, ya know!! I'll really take anything, but all I ask is that if you're gonna flame, you at least add SOMETHING constructive, so I know why you hate it… k?
Okay, so apparently I can't count. And since Ed has exactly 2 hands, but 1 was taken away... That would equal 1 hand. BIG Thanks to FlitterFlutter for teaching some math, and catching my (embarrassing) mistake!! :D I love you! (I think I got the mistake, but if anyone else sees something wrong, could you please mail me? Thanks again FlitterFlutter!)
Ed-- 'Mad Magician'
1 --I'd say about 10 or so…