Hit the ground and I'm still running
But I need a place to stay tonight
I swear, I'll be gone in the morning
I just need somewhere warm to close my eyes
Voices off Camera, Rise Against
Chapter Six: Strength
With incredulity, I stared at the usually friendly being, yet he looked all but pleased. What was going on? His pastel blue eyes were harsh and almost unfeeling, while Archer's danced lively, flickering towards me.
"Before you say anything," His eyes were locked on me, a sadistic grin plastered among his face. "You have no say in this." If I didn't know any better, I would have cried out against him. This was absolute blasphemy! I've been a subordinate of Roy ever since I joined the military, despite we were equal ranking officers at the time. He had moved on to greatness, my position hadn't wavered. With a weak and grim smile, I rose from my station along with the other subordinates before flanking to Armstrong's free side. I didn't want to be any where near this creepy man. My former coworkers all looked astounded to a degree, as was I. With that same defiant smirk, Archer glanced around the room.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mustang." As the other two turned, I followed the same suit. It felt odd to be up and about during work hours, when usually in Mustang's battalion, we just sat in the office and did things that pertained to nothing of significance. I was already beginning to miss the days. Armstrong and I were both flanked behind Archer, Alex as his right hand man. Would it always be like this, I wondered. Would we always be a step behind a man that was clearly insane?
"Holy, I'd like for you to train today." I blinked, albeit I was aware that he probably couldn't have seen the small gesture. It was rare for any of Mustang's subordinates to hear the word 'train', let alone as a command. He trusted our abilities to hold our own in combat, but I wasn't one of his subordinates anymore.
"If I may ask, why?"
"You're an incredible Alchemist, and could be in store for such a greater rank, yet you do not advance." There was something in his voice that was just too unpleasant to human ears. Almost like he teasing although the subject had been serious and his voice had been adamant. I didn't respond; I wasn't sure how to. "Armstrong, if you'd show her to the training room." He gave a brusque nod before breaking off, motioning for me to follow.
The room had been more plain than a freshly harvested cornfield, save for few large objects obscuring the pure view. There was a small body of water residing in the far left corner, large boulders with no definite shape bordering along. Towards the opposite, there was a small empty pit, decorated with ashes and brimstone, remnants of a fire flickering on and off. The air was thick and muggy, almost hard to breathe in. Armstrong left without another word, disdain painting his plain face. How was supposed I supposed to train without any targets? Attack the air? Well, there was a body of water, maybe I was just supposed to advance my techniques. There wasn't much else I could learn with my water or ice, well things that could at least do some damage.
I took a seat atop one of the boulders, my legs dangling off the side. With my right hand, I grasped my left shoulder, activating the energy flow from my transmutation circle. Pure concentration levitated the liquid, holding it afloat before me. It was just a long stream, nothing significant about it for the moment. I pulled it towards my body, the waters reaction that of a turtles pace, and coated my arm with the pristine liquid diamond. The clarity defined the details that painted my arm, magnifying the flaws and whitened scars graced by war. I manipulated the water, locking them to the tips of my fingers. The rest of the cascading purine dangled loosely like marionette strings with no doll to dance along the chains. As I raised my hand, the makeshift ropes tickled the ground by barely gracing the ground. My hand snapped towards nothing in particular, the whips lashing towards the air. A grin overtook my face, a very simple technique had been acknowledged and learned in less than ten minutes, the only problem was holding the bond of the water molecules together over a long period of time. Practice would make perfection, but there had to be other abilities that I could learn.
There were so many possibilities when it came to elemental alchemy, yet nothing could come to my mind, and I controlled two elements. I've got wings, whips, and projectiles. I'm sure I could mold an arm blade, most likely similar to Edward's, it wasn't that hard, but I didn't want to copy my peers. Possibly a standard sword would cut it? Haha, a pun. But still, nothing came to mind. I already lacked originality and creativity to begin with, and now that I had needed it, I had failed myself. Subconsciously, I had begun playing around with the water in the reservoir, the pristine liquid floating above my head in an intricate dance. It shouldn't have been this hard to come with a weapon with such a malleable substance! Water could be molded and compressed into almost anything, yet nothing unique that I could call my signature could ever come to mind besides my wings. Those were no weapons, they were simply for show that took too much power to operate well.
I needed all elements of battle to be covered; distance, close range, and evasive maneuvering, they needed to be covered with the grace of The Holy Alchemist. Maybe that sword would work after all, but not just any sword. Long and thick curved scimitars, possibly as long as my own legs. The thought was absolutely beautiful, but the trouble was the ability to mold the aqua into the precise shape, and constantly do so in the midst of battle. It would get better with practice, I decided, so I knew it was best to start now.
If thinking up the idea of frozen scimitars was hard, actually creating the dream had been nearly impossible. I wasn't able to hold the hilts long enough until the blades were completed at the ends. Instead of the points reaching my knees, with the hilts at eye level, the blade barely grazed my stomach. The ends were weak and in a faded white rather than the rest of the clear razor, and they were barely reaching the frozen solid state. There were so many flaws with idea of frozen swords, especially ones practically made of packed snow.
I let out a frustrated grunt, shattering the glass in my hands. My head couldn't wrap around reality; had my transfer really occurred? Maybe I was still sleeping in my bed, and it was still months ago. My fingers quaked and the struggled to brace myself against one of the boulders, my knees gave out. The ground was cold and hard, but everything from the waist down had gone numb. What was wrong with me, since when was I such a pessimist?
Somewhere, in the depths of my psychotic subconscious, something had been wrong. Whether it was past or present tense, I wasn't sure, but the thought had gotten stronger with every passing second, almost like a warning. My chest had begun to heave almost as if I were crying nonexistent tears or if I were holding them back. I had to fight, I figured as my hands braced themselves against the concrete, forcing me to my trembling knees. Feeling began to run through them, strength slowly reinventing their appearance. Albeit I probably looked pathetic, I began to crawl carefully towards the exit of the training room. With weak hands, I gripped the iron door handle and tried to pry open the entrance. It felt like it had been centuries since I had seen natural lighting, when in reality it had only been a few hours. After a few brief moments, I stood at my feet, with my knees bent and barely stable. No one even spared a passing glance, they must have already seen where I freed myself. My knees weren't strong enough to support myself, so I limped along the wall, until someone came to my aid.
"Faythe!" The voice was unrecognizable, but I prayed it was anyone but Archer. With weak eyes, I managed to see that it was actually Havoc, much to my relief. Gingerly, he took my arm before wrapping it around his shoulders, acting as a crutch for me. I wasn't even sure where he was taking me, it didn't really matter. At least I was safe from Archer for now.
Havoc brought me back to Roy's headquarters, although the ringleader himself was not in. It was just Havoc.
"What were you doing in there?" He asked solemnly as he laid me down on the military provided couch. My body screamed in relief as soon as my back made contact with the cushions. I almost forgot what Havoc asked me.
"Archer was training me...to be more alchemically prepared." It took me more than a brief pause to think of what exactly Archer's reason was. I think I was politically accurate, although he may have had an ulterior motive. I was a State Alchemist, therefore I was already prepared for whatever may come. I was in Ishbal, so I was mentally prepared. Maybe, according to Archer's standards, I had the potential to be his ideal soldier, I just needed physical work.
Bur what would he be looking for that required a State Alchemist to train more than she already had?
"Stay with me Faythe." Havoc mentioned half heartedly. A small smile made its way back to my face at his semi-mocking tone. Yet somewhere deep within himself, I managed to notice the flicker of concern. I probably really scared him, limping along the door. What was wrong with me? Was it just exhaustion or was it something that I wasn't even aware of?
Havoc stood tall, a cigarette adoring his lips. "I'll be right back," The off-white stick moved up and down as he talked. "I'll get you something to eat. You look like you're going to die any second now." I blinked at the statement. I did?
To answer my own mindless question, I searched for something to gaze at my own reflection. Roy had no mirrors, but there were few metallic objects that cast a reflection. A stranger looked back at me, her eyes too many shades darker to be my own. Is this what he meant? Maybe I was just exhausted. Training strictly with alchemy was tiring in itself, especially when one wasn't used to it. Moments later, Havoc returned with a silver tray of food, just as he promised. We sat in silence as I ate, my mind searching itself subconsciously. After finally getting food into my system to refuel my exhausted body, I finally let realization hit me. I was still being looked after by Mustang's squad. My own Lt. Colonel wasn't even here to make sure I was still breathing. Archer had specifically asked for me to be his new underling, and ordered I trained.
"Something big is going on." I murmured quietly, ignoring Havoc's gaze at my while my eyes stared into the empty abyss of white sea.
After my stay with Havoc, Armstrong had come to collect me. He stated in a deep, melancholic voice that I wasn't to run around freely; Archer wouldn't have that. I said my good-byes to Jean.
"Give my regards to the rest of the crew." With an enveloping hug, we parted ways. Side by side, we left, with me walking on Armstrong's right flank. He was silent, probably deep in thought.
"Alex." I tried to pull him from his reverie. Or I at least tried to fill the void of silence. "Why did Archer want me to train?" The blond giant remained silent, despite the straight forward question. What was wrong with him! Surely he'd be rambling on about his family by now. Just as I was about to speak once again, Armstrong had stopped walking to our unknown destination.
"Whatever you do Faythe, don't ever take Archer's words to heart." He didn't look back at me, he just continued on walking as if we had never stopped in the first place. With a confused daze. I followed at his side. There were many questions I wanted to ask him, but the main question that kept resurfacing:
Just what in the hell was Archer planning on doing with me?
"I see you found her." Armstrong simply nodded to his commanding officer, a snide smirk clear on the man's face. "How was training?" He directed towards me, all the traces that hinted to malice now fading.
"Fine." I responded dully. He cocked his thing eyebrow.
"Oh? Any new tricks?"
"Nothing spectacular." He merely nodded, not exactly pleased with the lack of a report. Archer motioned for us to follow him and we simply obeyed. I thought about what Alex had said previously about Archer, etching it into my mind.
My soul would never set on following the foot steps of Frank Archer.
Together, Armstrong and I marched on superior's sides. He was collecting more underlying soldiers for reasons unknown to me. They greeted the three of us with the utmost repost that was usually reserved for higher ranking officers, while Archer was basking in all of it.
"At ease." He announced, his prominent pale features eerily refracting in the light. Honestly, the military lights made him all the more creepier, but it illuminated his true face. The face of one with a devious plot etched and hatched in his mind.
"We have a mission to carry out men." A mission that was still unbeknownst to me. "Keep quiet and stealthy, there's no need for us to attract attention." What the hell? Of course we we're going to attract attention. We were a rather numerous squadron consisting all of military personnel, we weren't special ops. But we all listened to the pale, sadistic man with Armstrong as his right hand and me on the left flank. Archer's grin was carved of marble as we marched.
I was completely kept in the dark for practically…everything. I wasn't sure of our destination, or what our mission even was. Archer refused to tell me such information. A rifle adorned the leaders arms, the brusque color greatly contrasting his extraordinarily pasty skin. A single eye, as blue as the sky, searched through the scope, locking onto his target.
"Take a look." He commanded wistfully, handing the sniper to the large burly blonde. "The bottom of the kids right foot." A gasp escaped moment later in realization. If it was enough to get Armstrong to gasp, I wanted to see. From what I could tell, the target was only a child. How a child could possibly hold any interest to the military was beyond me.
"His right foot." Armstrong murmured, handing me the same rifle both had looked through previously. With the scope, I was able to see a much more refined image. The now confirmed child sat atop the roof's edge, hid pale and mismatching legs were swaying against the rickety shingles. The spot to were I was directed consisted of what seemed to be his naturally translucent skin but seemed to be marred with blood that didn't drip, despite its' location at the bottom of his foot. The mark was shaped oddly, almost like a crimson, hollow hole. My eyebrow raised high in curiosity.
"What is that?" I asked, handing Alex the rifle once again. He replied with silence, which miffed me greatly. Ever since Hughes' department, Armstrong has been acting strange. Sure, he was a friend and a subordinate of a great man and friend to all of the military, but would the late Brigadier General Hughes appreciate the drastic change? No, probably not. It also irked me slightly that we was telling absolutely no one anything; it was worth worrying over.
On Archer's command, Armstrong and I both began to strike the child down from where he sat atop the roof. Guilt pulsated in my blood; Why was I doing this? I loathed hurting innocents, even if they were suspicious. We struck the child down with projectile after projectile and managed to bring him safely into Armstrong's awaiting cradle, despite his fear-filled screams. Edward's distinct shouting stung my ears as I mentally murmured an apology. If only he knew what was going on, maybe it would be easier for me to determine who to listen to. But I knew my superior would always triumph over my friends, no matter how much I disliked said superior.
"Perhaps this child can provide us with answers to Laboratory 5." Archer simply remained tall as we stalked off with this strange child. He struggled slightly against Armstrong, but everyone knew that even trying to go against him was a futile attempt.
Questioning the young boy was…heartbreaking to say the least. He didn't know where he was, who his parents were or even his own name!
"Archer-sir," I called out to him, in an almost desperate tone. "He's just an innocent child, there's absolutely nothing-" A thunderous explosion cut me short from my pointless request. A woman, pale and beautiful with a braided ponytail, barged in with a less than pleased expression. The ground beneath us shook and crumbled, breaking beneath our feet. The only area that stayed intact was where the questioning table was, where the culprit had once been strapped.
"After them!" Archer demanded, referring to the boy that had been a captive just moments ago. His face clearly screamed anger that his test subject had escaped. As an escape maneuver, Armstrong offered his shoulder to our commandant and myself. After we returned to regular level, the three of us made a mad dash in a desperate attempt to find the child.
"Armstrong, Holy, we have to keep moving!" Due to more debris and breakage of the building, we lost the chasing trail we used to follow back to our subject. Yet beneath the brimstone and smog, a semi-burly man, clad in a standard military uniform was able to stand clear of it, and present himself to us. We stood at tentatively with our right hand pressed to our temped in a tight salute.
"Majors!" The pale lieutenant colonel shouted angrily, assuming that we were being purposely being disobedient. His oceanic gaze followed our, surprise taking over his anger. Just as we did, Archer gave a brief salute.
"Fuhrer sir, what are you doing here?" The man in question gave no reply, he just stared emptily ahead. The three of us followed his gaze to where the smoke and rubble had been cleared and the woman, who now had Edward running around frantically at her side, had dashed off. Without another word, all four of us rushed towards her, in attempts to capture the child again. Edward and company had reached a dead end, with us blocking his free exit.
More brimstone and debris, accompanied with ruckus, and prevented us from pursuing our assault. Standing in a recently annihilated wall, was a strange looking creature that could hardly be classified as human. I blinked in utter shock at the man who stood in his sadistically proud stupor, his molten eyes chasing into my own nature-valued hues. Armstrong made no effort to hide his own shock.
"Zolf J. Kimbley? But you should be dead!" My head hung low at the accusation; did I really have to hear this again? In a desperate attempt to drown him out, I managed to hear Archer speak his name in…was that admiration? Or maybe I was just confusing it with amazement at the fact that Kimbley was still alive.
"You were supposed to be executed years ago for treason and disobedience back in Ishbal."
Kimbley just simply grinned at Archer's statement. "Well that's one way of putting it. Another would be I made women and children go 'Boom'," He spoke very suggestively with his right hand flailing about and his head lolling in uncertain directions. "And when my superior officers tried to stop me-"
"BOOM!" The creature finished, also using obscene gestures for emphasis.
"I was really looking for ward to an execution," My head snapped to my walking nightmare, my interest no longer being held by the pattern less floor. He wanted to die! But he continued with his monologue with his gaze directed towards mine; he was awaiting for my reactions with a sadistic smirk adorning his lips. "But for some reason, the powers that be decided to keep me alive."
Armstrong flowered dangerously, obviously displeased that someone kept this deranged man alive. "But why?" He seethed lowly, but Kimbley seemed unaffected from such maltreatment.
"I don't know," He chirped honestly. "Why don't you ask that gentleman behind you?" All of us turned to face Fuhrer King Bradley who looked momentarily clueless before anger overtook him.
"Are you just going to stand there and let this madness continue?" He shouted rhetorically. Archer nodded swiftly to the Fuhrer before turning to Armstrong and myself.
"Right, arrest them! Arrest everyone!" In unison we replied with a 'Yes sir!' before attempting to recapture the young boy. The Fuhrer was at our side, grabbing the boy from the angry woman's arms. He muttered something in disgust before leaving with the child. In pure, unfiltered rage she obliterated the flooring and probably the concrete beneath our feet before chasing after the Fuhrer. I looked up to Armstrong.
"Are we going after her?" He merely shook his head before proceeding to hit himself with a nearby rock.
"Just pretend to be injured and we'll stay here." My ears perked up slightly before my hands flew to my hair, handling my auburn locks in disarray.
"Way ahead of you!" I squeaked in joy. He glanced curiously at me as I laid sprawled out on the ground with my body folded in unnatural positions. My eyes were shut with all emotion wiped clean off of my face.
"Oh I get it, you're unconscious!" He laughed heartily before clutching at his "wounded" side.
Archer was away, that much I knew. He'd been gone ever since the assault on headquarters and I was more than glad not to see his pedophilic face around. Although my commanding officer was absent, I still had no permission to go back to Central to see my little brother. Instead, I called him at the house to check up on him and whatnot. He was fine, from what he told me; He always was an independent, self-sufficient boy.
"Well alright Caden, I'm gonna let you go now. Take care, okay? Do your homework and don't make me lecture you when I get home." I teased him slightly, just imaging that angry scowl right about now. He absolutely despised any lecture that spewed from my mouth because they always ended in two ways.
'And then I found ten dollars," or "Then you will get pregnant, and die.'
It didn't matter how the lecture started or what the topic was, the result was always the same. Laughing as I hung up the phone from Caden's angry protests, I noticed the large shadow being overcast my much shorter stature. Armstrong stood at his full height, causing me to crane my neck to examine his less than pleased expression.
"We're needed in central to meet with the Fuhrer." He stated glumly. My eyes widened slightly. Why would Fuhrer King Bradley call us to Central on such short notice?
"I see." I murmured shortly. The pone rang, just as we began to walk away from my previous phone booth, but there wasn't a receptionist around to do her job. I held up a hand before reaching for the telephone once again. "Major Chevalier speaking."
"Major, change of plans. The Fuhrer's back here to speak with us. Both of you report outside his office immediately!" The line went dead not even seconds after and I hung up my own end of the line. What the fack, I thought the Fuhrer left after all of the commotion! Or maybe it was a cover story? Oh whatever, I'm confusing myself.
"We gotta meet outside the Fuhrer's Office." Armstrong only nodded, displaying no real signs of emotion. Our walk consisted only of silence and nothing less or more. Ever since my transfer, I've noticed a much more drastic change with Armstrong, aside from my accusations of it associating with Hughes. He was no longer that cheesy man that (unknowingly) bragged of his family's genetics. He hardly even talked anymore, only when it was absolutely necessary.
Archer stood there impatiently, unnoticeably fidgeting as we approached. Had we really taken that long or was this guy that much of a bastard? I liked the latter better.
"Finally." Our commanding officer muttered beneath his breath before opening the Fuhrer's gargantuan double doors and allowing himself in. Armstrong followed in directly after, and then myself. Our superior officer and the almighty Fuhrer were immediately engaged in conversation as soon as the doors were shut we were confined in privacy. Armstrong and I stood respectfully at our commanders' sides. While I had no idea about my partner, I paid no particular attention to the conversation, missions never did peak my interests in the slightest bit. The obscene double doors burst open, revealing Roy Mustang with his head bowed to the Fuhrer.
"Forgive me Fuhrer sir, but I seek permission to join this Eastern campaign." Archer glared furiously at the charcoal haired man, as if he just knew he had an ulterior motive. Knowing Roy, he probably did have one. The two were suddenly engaged in a heated conversation, having Roy list various reasons in a haughty tone. The Fuhrer granted him permission and Archer burned a hostile glare at the Flame Alchemist. Said Alchemist thanked the Fuhrer gratefully before turning to leave along with Armstrong. Wondering why I was still there, I bowed respectfully to the Fuhrer before running to walk in between Strong Arm and Flame.
I hated packing. And unpacking for that matter, but I hated packing even more. There was always that constant, nagging paranoia that I forgot something, even if I had double checked. My luggage was par from profuse; only housing necessities in a large, practically oversized purse. All the compartments managed to contain all my toiletries, another set of undergarments, a nightgown and a pair of flip flops for when I was off the field. Checking my list twice to soothe my paranoia, I finally let my mind go to rest. Tomorrow, we would be departing for Lior to settle down the uprising and search for Scar.
She fidgeted nervously, pulling at the hem of her satin dress repeatedly, the corset top not allowing her to breathe. Her voluptuous curls began to itch from the excessive amount of hairspray used to glue them into place, but she resisted the urge to scratch. She pulled at the top of her sidling corset, making sure it didn't expose any more of her creamy skin than necessary. Her translucent, glittering eyes were hidden beneath her eyelids, her thick and heavy lashes fanning against her cheeks.
"You go on in five minutes." The beautiful woman nodded nervously, her curls bobbing along with the motion. "And someone is here to see you." A thin yet muscular man peeked from behind the female assistant. His glamorous eyes resembled jewels as they grazed over the woman's celestial figure.
"You'll be fine." The man stated, his veined arms wrapped gently around the woman's frail waist. She nodded while biting her lip, a nervous whimper escaping her throat. The man chuckled before pressing his lips to her cheek.
"Faythe, you're on."
My silver heels clicked along the flooring, overtaking the silence that filled the room. As I was mentally trained to do, I wiped away the details in everyone's faces; only leaving the hue of their skin. My pianist gave me a reassuring smile before playing the familiar melancholic tune.
Softly we tremble tonight
Picture perfect fading smiles are all that's left in sight
I said I'd never leave, you'll never change
I'm not satisfied with where I'm at in life.
I reminded myself the resting counts to stay on time with my pianist, a challenge that I was still learning to overcome. Albeit everyone's faces had been cleared, I still searched for one in particular. I needed to see his face among the crowd, I needed his support.
Am I supposed to be happy?
When all I ever wanted, it comes with a price
Am I supposed to be happy?
When all I ever wanted, it comes with a price
You said, you said that you would die for me
The pianist took his two count rest in time, and I knew I had a fleeting second to find his face. Where was he? Obviously he was here, I had just saw him a minute ago back stage. But as our compromise, he said he would always be somewhere in the crowd.
We made plans to grow old
Believe me there was truth in all those stories that I told
Lost in a simple game, cat and mouse
Are we the same people as before this came to light?
Thankfully the song was close to an end. Just the chorus a few more times, and I could run off stage and hide away. Despite this being a passion of mine, stage fright had always been demeaning and discouraging. It seemed whenever I sang in front of more than five people, my voice would crack and make me look like a fool.
You said, you said that you would die for me
You must live for me too.
Despite the obnoxious cheers and the excessive clapping, I walked away calmly, the butterflies in my stomach melting away with a swig of water. A more than familiar chortle was sounded beside my ear, the same strong arms enveloping my waist once again.
"I think you were more nervous up there than on our wedding day." I laughed heartily, turning to wrap my around my husband's neck.
"I love you." I whispered, my lips ghosting over his own. He grinned happily, puckering his lips to place a gentle kiss.
"I love you Faythe." He announced in the cheesiest tone he could possibly muster, and holy shit was it cheesy.
"I love you Zolf."
Author note: I FINALLY UPDATED! Writer's block no longer exists for me in this story, and I intend on finishing it. I finally came up with just how I want to end it, and I must say; there isn't that much left. Granted there are probably more than 5 chapters left to write, but that isn't that much to an avid reader, now is it? I'd also like to thank xxdarknessxfallsxx and KunoichiHakira666 for their more than helpful reviews. When I received them, all I wanted to do was continue, so thank you.
Haha who enjoyed the KimbleyFaythe fluffiness at the end? xP I really just wanted to add some sort of fluff, but I guess you can assume it's a bit of a foreshadow? ;)
Who knows what'll happen? Pft, I don't.
Disclaimer: I do not own any publicly recognizable characters, objects, or songs. I do, however, own part of this plot, Faythe and Caden Chevalier, Lacey and Haley (Although those two have only been briefly mentioned). Steal them, and I'll have Gluttony eat you.