The Game of Three Generals
by Lady Norbert
A/N: Several of you have been commenting with grave concerns about the fact that Acheron and Dong Bao are still at large. That is correct, they are. They aren't staying that way for long, though, I promise you that. One of the pawns in our chess set isn't with the group at Central - did you notice which one? He's gone to take care of this last loose end.
It was my intention to have this story finished in time for Royai Day (June 11th), but because of the preparations for my goddaughter's wedding on that same day, I had to take a hiatus. So happy belated! This chapter is dedicated to Velgamidragon, because it features a character I know she loves well, and to jacksparrow589, to celebrate the completion of her lovely "Dissonant Symphony" series.
Chapter Nineteen: Collide
Collide: To oppose a piece with the same kind of piece.
As he has had occasion to note once before, Scar owes them nothing.
To their credit, they expect nothing. Especially now, he imagines, they expect nothing except that which an unkind fate has dealt them. But now more than ever, he is determined to help. For one thing, this is an injustice, and there are few things Scar despises more than injustice. For another, he has long since reconciled himself to the idea that this country needs these two in order to become what it ought to be.
Therefore, when his friend Miles assembles the Mustangs' allies in Ishval and says that they are heading to Central to stop the execution, he determines to go along and do what he can.
They reach the Armstrong family mansion and reunite with the beautiful General who was the first full-blooded Amestrian that Scar ever respected. (He respects Edward Elric, but since he's half-Xerxesian, he doesn't count.) Plans are laid out. General Armstrong and Edward Elric will go to the executive mansion and free the imprisoned Colonel who is being held under the excuse of 'protective custody.' The old Mustang unit is en route from Briggs and will join with them to plan an intervention at General Mustang's execution. General Armstrong notes that she has already seen Mustang; her credentials allowed her to visit him in prison, and he has told her everything he knows about the situation, including who is behind it.
"We knew he would strike again," says Miles. "We just couldn't prove that it was him until now."
"As long as he remains at large, Acheron remains a threat," General Armstrong agrees. "The Xingese exile is less of a worry to me; by all rights, he's the Emperor's problem, not ours. I think if Acheron can be dealt with, his Xingese ally will back down. Amestris defeated him once already."
"What do you suggest?"
"We need to find him. It's as simple as that, really. We need to find him and we need to eliminate him."
"I think that should be left to me," says Scar.
"You can find him?"
"I was the one who located Colonel Mustang in the desert," he explains. "My brother's alkahestry research enabled me to track her chi and it was that which led us to her."
"I see." The General raises her eyebrows. "Very well. How many men do you wish at your disposal?"
"I need none of your men. It is easiest if I dispatch him myself."
"Just as you like." A household servant enters, and General Armstrong nods. "Dinner is ready. Mustang's men should be joining us sometime this evening. I suggest we eat, and then you can go and do what you need to do, Scar. We'll be counting on you."
The enemy is brazen, Scar must give him that.
He hides on the very outskirts of Central City, close to the scene of the action. The dragon lines of the earth lead Scar unerringly to the place of concealment - a hotel. It's one thing to locate the building, but to find Acheron's exact location inside the building takes more work. He deliberately bypasses the front desk, knowing that the concierge will probably be of no help to him; he doubts that Acheron would be so foolish as to register under his real name. Instead, he starts methodically stalking the corridors, inquiring with anyone he meet whether they have seen his "uncle," a white-haired man probably traveling in the company of a Xingese native.
At last, this lengthy means of investigation has a payoff. The men he seeks are on the sixth floor. This particular piece of alkahestry will not work on floors; the finding ritual only works on the ground itself, so he must narrow down the room on his own. It take some time, and several apologies to other hotel guests (apologies he feels awkward making), but at last he determines that they are in room 611.
He considers knocking, just to see what they will do, but he doesn't want them to have any sort of advance warning that could let them somehow escape. So he simply destroys the door. He'll reconstruct it before he leaves, he can do that now.
And there they sit, discussing their plans at the little table in an alcove of the room, only to stare in shock and dismay as the door is dismantled. "You are Acheron," says Scar, holding the gaze of the other white-haired man.
"I remember you," says the older man after a moment. "You were in the desert with Roy Mustang."
"I was."
"You are Ishvalan."
"I am."
"And yet you side with him? He who massacred so many of your people?"
"The world has changed," Scar replies simply. "I have come to bring the pair of you to justice."
"To the Amestrians' twisted version of justice, you mean." Acheron snorts. "You and I have much in common, but for our present loyalties."
"No."
"Oh, but we do. Sons of small, peaceful settlements that were demolished and assimilated by the Amestrian dogs of the military. What they did to my beloved Thesus is almost identical to what they did to your beloved Ishval."
"With that I will not argue," Scar says, grudgingly. "But I believe they have at last learned from their past mistakes."
"There we disagree." Acheron shakes his head. "They have pulled the wool over your eyes, my brother. They are not your friends."
"They are not my enemies."
"Really? You seemed to think so, once. Oh, yes," he continues, "I know all about you, the scarred priest. I know about the revenge you tried to take on the state alchemists. You made my job easier, with as many of them as you killed. I am told you almost brought death to Roy Mustang too, and only failed because of his beautiful sniper."
Scar inclines his head, acknowledging the remark. "A death that in the long run, I am relieved I did not cause. He has worked hard to atone for his sins - he was among the first to admit them."
"So he has taken advantage of your loyalty and sent you to defeat me. I am curious as to how he managed it, since by now he has surely met his fate."
"He did not send me."
"No? Oh, perhaps it was the ravishing ice queen from the northern fortress. I understand you feel you owe her your life, and I am told that she managed to visit Roy Mustang before his death. Perhaps he passed on his knowledge to her, and she to you."
"That is closer to the truth."
"You are laboring under some heavy delusions, my brother, if you think I am going to come quietly."
For the first time, Scar smiles, grimly. "I am not your brother. I had one brother; he is dead. It was because of his researches that I was able to find you."
"Ah, I wondered about that. Is that how you located me in the desert, as well, thus saving Lady Mustang from my incompetent underling?"
"Yes."
"I am impressed. But I am still not going to come quietly."
"I think we misunderstand each other," says Scar. "I am not here to detain you...nor to arrest you."
"Indeed. Perhaps you are here to join me? Or to make me see the error of my ways?" Acheron's eyes glint. "I would welcome you as an ally, but if you are only here to lecture me, you would be wasting your breath."
"At last, we agree on something. It would be a waste of my breath."
"You are here to kill me?"
"I am here to send you to meet God, yes. I will give you a few minutes, if you wish, to say your final prayers."
Something in Acheron's countenance shifts, ever so slightly. Scar sniffs; he smells fear.
"Think twice," the older man says. "Consider what you could do, in the new Amestris I plan to build. Consider how much you could make life better for your countrymen."
"You are not praying," says Scar. His voice is soft and dangerous. Acheron flinches. At the far side of the table, Dong Bao seems to be weighing his own options.
"I will give you one more chance to join me," says Acheron.
Scar adopts a pensive expression, considering it. The Thesian man watches him.
"No, thank you," he says after a moment, and seizes Acheron's face. Lightning blazes from his fingers one last time.
Scar gives Dong Bao an option - come quietly and carry the body, or face the same fate. Fortunately, the Xingese man takes the pack animal route, for which Scar is grateful; he isn't sure how he would get both their bodies back to Central Command otherwise. He carefully transmutes the door back to its normal state, and they leave by the emergency stairs to avoid being noticed.
They are detained at the entrance to the command center by guards who have been left wholly confused by the state of affairs. Scar interprets this to mean that they are now aware of Grumman and Mustang's continued existence; the plan succeeded, therefore. Good. "Tell the Fuhrer, and General Armstrong, that I have brought the body of their enemy," he says calmly. A wide-eyed private scuttles off to deliver the message, and returns a few minutes later to say that Scar and his quarry are welcome to join the group in the Situation Room.
He herds Dong Bao through the corridors, reaching the door and pushing it open without preamble. Everyone is at the table inside, and they turn automatically to look at him. He is, privately, gratified by the respect he sees in their faces.
"Ah," says the lady general, "I see you were successful." She grants him a rare smile. "You left the prince alive, I see."
"I needed him to carry the body."