Quick update this time! Thank you, Aevium the awesome beta reader!
I made a new poll, and I need serious help from you on how the sequel to this thing will turn out. Please stop by and vote! The result isn't secret like in the last one. Anyway, this story rolls on. Only three chapters left after this. Enjoy!
Chapter 30: Initiation of War
This place felt so dark and empty. Eerie even. Where he was lying feverishly in bed, he was alone. Still he wasn't alone at all. He felt another presence, if not physically next to him; its attendance was there inside his very soul.
Come to me, it said.
Alphonse stared up towards the ceiling with large dead eyes where it was seemingly flowing right above his bed like a ghost; long black hands reaching down at him, welcoming him out of sleep or perhaps lulling him into another. He lay completely still, neither escaping nor accepting this mayhem of dark souls, born out from the mysterious doorway to another world. To another life. Or was it a life at all? He doubted it would ever be for him.
Why wasn't he running? Why didn't he do anything? Was he just going to lie here and wait for them to reach down to him and steal him away from the world? To steal his body and banish his soul?
Come to me.
The sound it made was strange. It was both alien and familiar. A continuing droning sound, low and deep, humming far away but it was getting louder each second as if it were drawing closer.
Bronze eyes abruptly shot open wide, flinching at the same time as he woke, and the image of the dreading blackness above him disappeared as fast as it had showed up. But the sound still lingered. The sound wasn't coming from his dreams. His body felt cold, bathed in sweat and his breathing came out a little rapid. Still, he couldn't just lie still anymore.
Al sat up in bed in an abrupt curve and jumped onto the chilly floor on his bare feet. From there, he only had to take three steps until he was standing by the window and gazed out in terror.
The flying machine was close, and it was flying dreadfully low on the sky. He recognized it from the day they had attacked Lior. And now... Was Central going to get attacked again?
He turned quickly away from the window, taking a deep breath and balling his fists. Everyone was probably getting ready to fight. He couldn't stay here. He had to be there with his brother, with Mustang and Alfons and everyone else. And then, he would carry out his own mission.
In record time he had dressed and exited the house. He headed down the street in a quick pace towards the city, buttoning up his red coat as he went. He could still hear the droning sound of the flying machine above. It seemed to be circling around, lingering where people could see it.
Thule Society was spreading fear.
Al bypassed several people who had packed their belongings and were on their way to flee from the city, both in cars and on foot. He had to get to Central HQ and find his brother and Mustang as soon as possible. If they were planning to confront Thule Society he couldn't just sit somewhere alone on the sidelines and wait.
All of a sudden the flying machine turned in the distance and came droning over the part of the city quite close to him. Al stopped for a moment, breathlessly staring straight up at it. It was even closer now than he had seen it in Lior. At that time it had dropped a bomb. A cold chill ran down his spine with the feeling of déjà vu.
As the flying machine passed by above, something did drop from it, making Al's heart stop. He was utterly frozen to the ground, since running from it would be useless anyway. He kept his eyes on the thing that fell, and frowned as it dropped behind some buildings so he couldn't see it hitting the ground. It had looked different than the bombs in Lior. Then he waited for an explosion. For something to happen.
But nothing seemed to be happening. At least not an explosion.
From a distance away, louder than the sound of the tedious engine was by now, he heard several screams and panicking voices. It came from the place where that thing had landed.
Quickly Al continued straight towards that place, following the sounds of screams. No, it hadn't looked like a bomb at all. The shape had been different, and it had looked lax. Like a doll. Somehow he had a good idea of what the thing might be.
A crowd had gathered, people were in panic, they were shouting and crying, and some of them were fleeing from the spot. Al pressed his way through them, small and agile as he was, and in the end he reached the right spot. He froze and grew pale, his breath got stuck somewhere on the way from his lungs and out between his lips.
Before him was a body lying on the ground. A man. He was long dead. His skin was pallid and light blue, but a fresh pond of blood was growing underneath him. He was wearing the familiar blue Amestris State Military uniform.
Al took a deep breath and let his eyes gaze up towards the sky. Everyone from the group of soldiers the Fuhrer President had sent out on a mission to Thule Society had probably been heartlessly murdered. And now it seemed like Thule was spreading the bodies out all over the city.
How cruel and inhuman.
Al dropped to his knees beside the soldier. He didn't know this man. His face was unfamiliar. But somehow he saw someone else when looking at that expressionless face.
Schiller. Lieutenant Colonel Light.
For what reason had these people died? They were all victims to this meaningless war, just like this soldier.
His palms pressed to the pavement next to the lifeless man. "I don't understand," he whispered to the body. It shouldn't matter who people are or where they are from, still they use it as suitable reasons to homicide. "Why did you have to die?"
He stretched his hand carefully out and slowly closed the dead man's eyes. He probably had had a family which would've expected him to come home.
Al clutched his eyes shut and his clenched fist slammed into the ground. It wasn't fair. His head was a mess, and beneath it all he still found himself wondering if Schiller had liked drawing just like Lieutenant Colonel Light had.
The basement of Central Headquarters was empty and silent. It was a parking lot used to store automobiles for the Military Police. A trail of blood lead innermost in the room, to one of the cars that had been transmuted open. Alfons shut the door quickly – after getting Edward and himself safely into the backseat. It wasn't the best hiding place, but for now they didn't seem to be followed.
"Edward, let me see your wound."
Edward avoided his eyes and almost seemed reluctant to even touch him to a point where Alfons started to become afraid that Edward was totally disgusted by him.
"He's a dead man," Edward grated. "He's fucking dead."
Alfons crawled towards him and fisted his blood-stained shirt. "Stop that." He was caught completely flat footed as Edward turned the tables around and clung to his waist, pulling him closer. "That bastard will pay... I'll fucking kill him. He—"
"Edward." Albeit appreciating the sentiment, Alfons slowly pulled his hands apart from him. Edward seemed to have forgotten everything about the plan he had mentioned a couple of minutes earlier in the elevator, but that was irrelevant now anyway. Edward was hurt, and it could be bad. Alfons couldn't imagine this ever working out unless Edward was at least in the right state of mind.
"I'm fine, okay? You've been shot, we have to stop the bleeding, or you will die." Alfons tried to not sound as panicked as he felt, but had no idea if he succeeded.
Edward grunted and cursed, and let Alfons shove him back down into the backseat so he could rest against the opposite door of the automobile while pealing his stained shirt off his flesh arm.
Damn it, damn it, damn it! Edward cursed within. If only his automail had been on his left arm, he would've been fine. And that wasn't important now, because Alfons had been... Edward's breath went short and he clutched around Alfons' wrist. Even just thinking about it made him sick. Alfons had been brutally violated by that man. In the most horrible way possible.
"Lie still," Alfons instructed softly.
How could Alfons take that fact like it was nothing? Edward stared up at him, his chest heaving rapidly up and down. How could he be fine? He had let Alfons down. He had promised to protect him, as the arrogant fool he was. But instead, Alfons had sacrificed himself for him.
"Unforgiveable, unforgiveable..." Edward whispered, realizing he was falling into some sort of after-shock, and clutched his eyes shut while a troublesome fever came creeping over his face. Shake it off! he told himself strictly. There's no time for this. "I was fucking blind! I knew that you signed the contract, but I didn't see the context of it. Shit! Fucking—"
Alfons had managed to clear off the garment from the wound, and tried to ignore the whispered and heated rambling from his lover. He used his own sleeve to dry off some blood to be able to see how serious the damage was. He almost sighed in relief when he noticed that the wound wasn't as bad as he had feared. Even if it was deep rift at the side of his arm, the bullet wasn't there.
"It grazed you," he wheezed, sighing again and the knot in his stomach loosened a bit. "You're really something... I'll be honest with you. You're the only person I know who can dodge bullets."
Edward stared at him for some seconds like he was trying to translate the joke, and then scoffed.
"You'll be alright," Alfons said, his heart finally managed to slow down from the droning-like one, long tone.
"I told you," Edward said with a softening voice, even if the loss of blood had made his vision start to swim by now. He focused up at his comrade again, his breathing beginning to soothe out. "Alfons..."
Alfons had already started ripping off his own shirt sleeves and was tying them both tightly around the injured upper arm. Edward's wound had already sullied half of the car seat in deep crimson. Since there was no bullet, there had been nothing holding the blood back from flooding out all this time. He held the garment studiously pressed against the bloodied crevice, sealing it off from flowing freely. "That should hold it until we get to the hospital."
Edward ignored his injury completely and shot up his automail hand, clutched the front of his lover's shirt and pulled him down onto him. Alfons yelped a little and ended up flopping down on top of him while Edward closed his arms around his shoulders.
"I'm so stupid," Edward said, digging his nose into the crook of his neck. "But it all sort of makes sense now. You acted strange sometimes, and this is why he helped me off in the trial. You fucking gave yourself away in exchange..." All this time, it had been Alfons who had protected him. All this time, he had believed that everything was working out for each of them. He felt ashamed of himself.
Alfons closed his eyes and rested against a metal shoulder, not able to even look at him now. He was too tired to defend what he had done. He didn't regret it. If Edward thought any less of him now, so be it. Edward had been able to live and go free.
"How many times... did he do it?" Edward asked shakily.
Alfons would rather avoid talking about that, but he understood Edward's need to know as well. "There were a couple of times," he started uncomfortably. "I had to suck him off..." Thinking about that now made him shiver in disgust. He didn't know if telling Edward about the very first sexual act he had to perform on the man would have any point, he was too mortified to even think about it. How naïve he had been. But he had said it anyway because he didn't want to keep any more secrets from Edward now that he knew of the worst anyway. "The main act happened just once," he continued. "He never got to finish the second." He felt Edward's fists tighten around his arm, and he smiled then, timidly. "It happened while you were away in Lior, and he drugged me before he did it." Like that was supposed to calm him down. "There was nothing you could've done," he added.
And it didn't hurt that much when I thought of how much I could lose.
Edward tensed. "That dirty, lowlife fucking bastard."
Alfons finally looked up and pressed his lips towards Edward's. "It's okay," he whispered. "Kiehle knows nothing of how real affection feels like." He shifted his weight onto his hip, making some of the pressure on Edward's chest lift. He didn't want to hurt him further now that he was injured enough already, but Edward tightened his hold around him to prevent him from escaping completely, hugging him closely to his side. Alfons settled with that and rested against his shoulder, his eyes staying alert.
They lay like that for a while, their bodies pressed against each other and tangling their legs as the only source for warmth and comfort in the cold basement. He felt an automail hand swathe around him and press protectingly against the small of his back, circling there a bit.
Edward's silence plagued Alfons. He rather wanted him to be angry at him than quiet about the whole matter. But maybe Edward was angry too. Still, Alfons wanted him to understand that he had had no choice but to let it happen. At least until now...
He tilted his head up, leaving soft kisses on his cheekbone, towards the shell of his ear. Between each kiss words were leaking out of him. "I don't regret the decision I've made, even if I didn't know what Kiehle had in mind at the time I signed that contract. I didn't have a choice. If you're disgusted by me now I completely understand. There's probably just a matter of time before they find me and arrest me, since he knows that I'm from the other world. But I couldn't let the military execute you, so I begged him to do something. I literally begged... it was bound to be taken advantage of, but I didn't care."
Alfons had to admit to himself that he was scared. There was really no way Kiehle would let him get away now. The man might not be able to do much to Edward because Mustang was his commanding officer, but Alfons was a different story. Kiehle practically owned his life. He could end it as easily as cutting a string. But what Alfons was afraid of the most was still Edward's feelings. The only guarantee was that he had hurt Edward by making that choice, regardless of his intentions behind it. There were probably a lot of alternatives he could've done to prevent Kiehle from going too far, for example biting the sour apple and telling the right people the truth. First of all Edward. And Mustang. Maybe even Hawkeye. Maybe they could have stopped Kiehle before he went to the higher-ups. But Alfons hadn't done anything of that because he had been too cowardly. If Edward was disgusted by him or even hated him now, he would accept it but he didn't know what he would do.
Edward pressed his head up against his cheek, almost aggressively. "Alfons, you stupid moron."
Alfons blinked, confused.
You're such a brainless guilt machine, the stern look in Edward's eyes told him. Nothing you've ever done since you came to this world you have done for yourself. It has always been for me and Al. Then a small smile touched the elder's lips. Whenever Alfons blamed himself for something the world had done to him, he only reminded Edward of himself and how stupid he was.
"Of course I'm not blaming you," he said, almost in thorough annoyance. "You weren't the one who fucked up everything in the first place! You weren't the one who dragged me into another world or let Thule Society get away. And why would I be disgusted by you? I'm disgusted by him! That damned bastard! For the sick crap he did to you. He tried to kill us. They're going to arrest him, not you. Unless I kill him first."
What a relief. Edward wasn't mad at him. But still he felt like he needed to explain.
"I just didn't want..." Alfons clutched his eyes shut tightly. "I didn't want to lose you."
Edward stared at him for a long time, his tone softening. "I know..."
"I don't know if you do," Alfons murmured. He moved his hand and pressed gently against Edward's chest, resting his palm there. Against his beating heart. "This keeps me alive too."
Edward, for once, was at loss for words. He rested his automail hand over Alfons' on his chest.
"I think of this world as my world now, but just because you are in it," Alfons confessed timidly. "Everything I am, I am because of you. I would never have been the same again if you were gone. When someone says love hurts, that isn't true. What hurts is loneliness, envy or losing someone. People often get these things confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. It's the only thing in this world that does not hurt. That's why I've pulled through. I still have you." Warm droplets trailed down his cheeks, but he was too tired to wipe them away.
Then Edward kissed him. It was the kind of kiss that could've sucked out Alfons' very soul and make it float aimlessly out in space. He didn't know if it was because Edward felt touched by the words or if he wanted to just shut him up, but Alfons' accepted it and melted into the sole affection.
"No matter what, it's a two-way road," Edward said, parting slowly from his lips. "Don't die before me either."
He didn't need to say anything more. It was simple, but it meant everything. Alfons' eyes kept flowing. Then the only thing he could do was to hide into Edward's shoulder and cry, no matter how pathetic it felt. He knew how much Edward hated seeing people he cared about cry, but he couldn't help it. His shoulders were shaking and he clung to him like a living lifeline, because if he lost Edward he would lose everything.
"I'm not going to let anyone from the military touch you ever again. I promise." Edward wrapped his arms a little tighter around him and nestled his nose into his light hair.
There was a silence between them for some minutes. It was a comfortable silence, a presence that didn't have the need of more words. Alfons draped an arm across Edward's waist and rested against him while Edward stroked soothingly over his back with his metal hand. It made him relax, even if he knew there was so little time to relax right now. Still, he savoured the moment as long as he could.
Edward looked down at Alfons' eyes staring to the side into nothingness. He had always thought of himself as the strongest between the two of them. That it was mainly his job to protect the other. He had always won in sparing, given that he had taught Alfons everything he knew. Alfons had been sick and fragile, he had been lost and dragged along to a place that wasn't his home, and he was even targeted by powers unknown to mankind. Edward's eyes darkened. Still, Alfons was much stronger than him. He had faced and endured all of this, endured and endured everything, and he had the power to cry it out. Then he could stand up again and move on.
You have no idea how scared I was. That disgusting bastard hurt you, and for a moment I didn't even know what to do. My brain was paralyzed and about to shut down. But then I looked into your eyes again.
"I just wish I had come in there a little earlier." Edward's fingers fisted around Alfons' torn shirt.
Alfons had finally managed to calm down to a small extent, and took a couple of deep breaths. There were more important things to discuss now. He had to pull himself together. "There's something I have to tell you... He knows..." He had wanted to forget about it, but unfortunately he couldn't. Reality wasn't that merciful. "Kiehle knows everything," Alfons elaborated. "He knows about us, and that it was Mustang who helped me into the military, and... your brother."
Edward stiffened. "What about Al?"
"Kiehle knows that you did a human transmutation."
"That can't be," Edward mumbled in disbelief. "He's not even an alchemist."
"He has linked your disappearance with Al's return, and just figured I guess. He has good sense of reason, but he doesn't have proof."
"Wrong, they have proof," Edward muttered. "If they start experimenting on Al, who knows what they'll find out." He sighed and closed his eyes. "It's like this world is totally kicking us in the ass."
"It wasn't any better before," Alfons murmured, mostly to comfort him. "But what's going to happen now? Kiehle still has confidence that the higher-ups stand on his side."
"If they do, we simply have to make them believe otherwise," Edward said. "Let's worry about that later. Right now Thule is roaming about above Central, so they probably have their hands full of stuff to worry about."
"Thule Society?" Alfons gasped. "Are they attacking?"
"Not that I've heard yet. But that was the reason why I came to find you in the first place." Edward snorted and smirked. "The irony." One disaster had prevented another.
The sound of the phone was shrieking through the office and the Colonel grabbed the receiver before any more words could be said through all the chaos.
"Colonel Mustang."
"New incoming report, sir." The voice sounded a little frantic. "It has just been confirmed that a flying machine is circling above Central. The Fuhrer wishes for every commanding officer to enter the meeting room as soon as possible."
"I'm on my way," Mustang said.
"Sir," the man in the other end added quickly. "It seems like the flying machine has dropped something."
"A bomb?" Mustang gritted his teeth. "The flying machine isn't far away."
"No, it's not a bomb. Rumour says they are dead human soldiers."
"Shit."
So the spying team had been captured and slaughtered. That wasn't very pleasant news. He put the phone down and met Hawkeye's eyes. "The team the Fuhrer President sent out is dead. They're being spread out over Central as we speak."
Her eyes hardened. "What can we do, sir?"
"We can't assume that they won't start bombing us again," Mustang said.
Edward stepped abruptly away from the window, facing the Colonel. "Send out messages to the civilians then, and tell them to get the hell out of Central."
Mustang nodded. "That's a start. 1st Lieutenant, make the broadcast of the evacuation program."
Hawkeye nodded. "I'll prepare the radio transmission immediately, sir."
"Wait," Edward shot out. "What about my brother? He's stuck at the house with a cold. If they start bombing the city..." If something similar that had happened to Alfons last time there was an attack happened to Al, he would never be able to live with himself. He was already on his way out the door to get his little brother out of there when Mustang stopped him.
"Fullmetal, I need you here," he said firmly. "I'll send Havoc to pick him up. It'll be faster with a car anyway. They haven't started attacking yet, so for now we need to work on our strategy with the Fuhrer President."
Edward stopped in his tracks and turned. Mustang could see it took him a great deal of willpower to agree with him.
"Alright," Edward said, gritting his teeth. "Let's move it then!"
Mustang picked up the phone again and quickly gave Havoc the message while Hawkeye hurried off to inform the citizens with the radio note. They had a secure program planned out in case something like this happened. As long as it got pulled off quickly enough, many lives would be spared.
The two alchemists arrived at the meeting room shortly after, where all the other officers were just getting seated. All except for one.
"Has Brigadier General Kiehle received the message?" Fuhrer President Hakuro asked pensively.
Mustang and Edward found their seats, and Edward immediately felt alarmed. If Kiehle wasn't here, was he with Alfons? Hadn't they heard that Thule Society was back roaming about Central?
"Fuhrer President," one of the other officers spoke. "I believe he couldn't be reached on the phone."
"That is odd," Hakuro said. "Send someone to inform him immediately. Meanwhile we have to start without him. Our time is short."
Edward suddenly rose and bowed. "Let me go and inform him."
Hakuro looked over at the young man, and then he nodded. "Alright, Fullmetal, you're dismissed."
Mustang gave Edward a look which meant 'meet me outside afterwards' and Edward replied with small nod. He felt highly suspicious concerning Kiehle and this whole situation. What was the Brigadier General doing? He was usually one of the first to act—rationally or not—in a crisis towards the city. And Edward still had his recent conversation with the Colonel sharply in mind. Mustang's suspicion of Kiehle's intentions of entering the Gate was one thing, but why had he seemed so worried for Alfons?
"The only way of saving him is to arrange his death. That way, he'll be free to do whatever he wants. Before the Brigadier General manages to harm him any further."
"What are you saying, Colonel? What exactly has the Brigadier General made Alfons do?"
"I don't know," Roy admitted. "The point is, if he thinks Alfons is dead he won't be able to do anything to him or make him build another flying machine."
No matter what, Edward wanted to get to the bottom of it right away and he didn't care what kind of measurements he used to get there.
"The locked door made me even more suspicious that something fishy was going on. That's why I was barging my way in," Edward explained. "But I wasn't sure what I would find. I certainly didn't expect what I found."
"I'm sorry," Alfons said again.
"Stop saying that!" Edward wanted to shake him, but he didn't have strength for even that at the time being. Instead he leaned his head heavily into Alfons' soft hair. "Let's just... rest here for a couple of more minutes... I'll think of something to do."
"You said there was something you had to tell me in the elevator," Alfons then remembered. "What was it?"
Edward hesitated. "Yeah, that..." He had kept too many secrets from Alfons for a long time. It was about time he let Alfons know what he deserved to know. "There's something odd happening..." Edward said. "I've noticed it lately, occasionally. Like I'm having amnesia."
Alfons frowned. He had had the same feeling.
Edward breathed in deeply. "I think the Gate is altering people's memories of you."
"People's... memories?"
"It's most likely connected to your mark." Edward's metal fist clenched. "We don't have much time left. If we don't hurry everyone might... lose all their memories of you."
"Is everyone... forgetting me?" Alfons thoughts started spinning. This couldn't be...
"I don't exactly know what," Edward said, "but sometimes I just can't recall small things of what we've done together recently. It's been bothering the hell out of me."
Now that he was saying it, Alfons had noticed it too. He was forgetting things. He didn't even know precisely what he was forgetting. He just had the feeling that he was constantly forgetting something important. "I'm... losing my memories as well," he whispered. "The day we arrived at this world, it's really hazy by now. What does this mean?"
Edward gnashed his teeth together. "It's your eye mark. I just have to stop it. I'll do anything."
Was the Gate gradually erasing his existence from this world? Would even Edward just forget about him? Alfons couldn't believe it. He hugged Edward closely and the older blond hugged back, clutching onto him like he was going to disappear.
To be honest, Alfons wouldn't have minded staying right there in the backseat of the automobile forever, because it seemed like he soon wouldn't have anything left to return to in this world. Everything was falling into ruins. But he couldn't just give up now, could he? Edward wouldn't let him. Edward was too stubborn. He felt Edward's nose leave his hair as his head fell back against the car door. His eyes drooped.
Alfons looked up, worried. Edward was pale and clammy. He looked like he was about to pass out. Alfons' stomach fluttered and his shook the automail shoulder gently. "Edward?"
Edward's voice was barely even audible. "If two people suffer together, the sadness and pain becomes halved." There was a soft smile on his lips. "You taught me that, Alfons."
Something tightened in his chest, constricting his throat so closely there wasn't even possible to swallow. His eyes were warm, still welling of unshed tears.
"The Colonel will… figure out something… We're going to die together, and then no one will find us." Edward settled with that and let the exhaustion take over for a bit.
"Edward, what…?" Alfons shook him again, but Edward looked like he was sleeping, and he immediately panicked. "Don't pass out on me now!"
Edward's brow wrinkled. "Don't worry, it's nothing... just a little... dizzy."
"You've lost a lot of blood," Alfons said. He realized, they couldn't just stay here and hide forever. Time was short and Edward needed to go to a hospital, fast. They had to worry about everything else later. Screw any other plan for now.
But what if they got seen by the wrong military people, and what if they took Alfons away this time?
He sat up slowly, holding Edward tightly. There was just one thing to do. "Just relax right here," Alfons whirred and settled the limb blond in a more comfortable position before climbing between the front seats until he was seated behind the wheel. He started running through the glove compartment for some spare keys.
"Are you going to drive?" Edward crooned from the back. "Where are we going?"
Edward had to be only partly conscious since he was neither pointing out the fact that Alfons didn't have a driver's licence, or the fact that he hadn't drove at all before, only watched Edward doing it. When he was little, their neighbour had had an automobile which his father had borrowed sometimes, and then he could sit on his father's lap and hold the wheel while his father gassed and geared. And here Edward's comment to the idea was asking where they were going? Fair enough.
"To the hospital," Alfons replied, relieved of finding the keys he had been looking for. He didn't want to ask Edward to use more of his strength to get the car started with alchemy. "The civilian one, not the military hospital," he added. Then he remembered he didn't have a clue of where it was. "Uh... Do you know the way?"
"Yeah," Edward sighed. "Turn right if you make it out of the port yard."
Alfons didn't know if his choice of words meant he was trusting in faith or lacking it, but he was relieved that Edward didn't start exhausting himself any further by arguing and protesting.
"I'm on it." Alfons twisted the key and put the car in gear as it came to life.
Edward had never come back. Something was fishy, and why now in the middle of an expected attack? The flying machine had disappeared out of sight, but that didn't mean that Thule Society was done with their deed for today.
Mustang hurried back to his office, praying to the Gods he didn't believe in, that both Edward and Alfons would be there. Their time was short, and they had to plan out Alfons' 'death' somewhere in the middle of the ruckus. That way he could disappear right under the noses of the higher-ups, and they would never know the truth – neither of who Alfons Heiderich really was, nor how Mustang had covered up for him. On long terms, that would be for the best for all of them.
But to his puzzlement, neither of them were waiting for him in his office either. He decided he had no other choice than visit Kiehle himself and get to the bottom of it, but that he didn't have to. In the next second a disturbing but firm group of men entered his office behind him with Fuhrer President Hakuro in the lead.
"I'm glad I found you again this quickly, Colonel. It seems like it has been a serious incident during our meeting."
Mustang frowned at the group, but saluted. Behind the Fuhrer stood another high ranked officer from the meeting, and next to him no other than Brigadier General Kiehle, who looked to have been very recently medically treated with bandages around his head and his nose stuffed with cotton. A couple of his soldiers stood close behind him, as to support him in case he fell over. This was the least he had expected now. What was all this about? Edward was gone, and now this?
Please tell me these two circumstances aren't related... But somehow he just knew that they were.
"What happened?" Mustang asked shortly.
"Apparently, the Fullmetal Alchemist has acted questionably once again," Hakuro gritted heatedly. He looked close to boiling over in anger. "I was hoping that you might explain why he has attacked the Brigadier General and run off again?"
"No, sir, regrettably I can't," Mustang said, as the truth was. But then again, his eye darted towards Carl R. Kiehle. What did you do to make him do it?
Hakuro sighed deep. "I see, I believe in your reliance, Colonel, but this time Edward Elric has stepped over the line for the last time. He will face the consequences of this unless he comes up with a good explanation."
Kiehle remained silent, but replied Mustang's look. His eyes were frosty enough to challenge his flames.
"More importantly," Hakuro continued. "The Brigadier General has made a disturbing discovery about our flying machine expert."
Mustang's eye widened. Oh no...
"It appears that he is from the other world, which links his professions to an association with Thule Society."
Mustang frowned and tried to seem as surprised as he could. "Are you sure about this, sir?"
"Yes. It makes sense since Peterson tried to take him away from Headquarters some days ago. Maybe he was actually 'rescuing him' and bringing him back to his alleys."
"Alfons Heiderich has cooperated with us all this time," Mustang said carefully. "Even if he was from the other world, it's not certain he is working for Thule Society."
"What do you know, Mustang?" Kiehle suddenly shot in, bitterly. But Mustang noticed a hidden leer in his voice. "That young man attacked me in my office and tried to assassinate me."
Mustang blinked. "What?" Alfons Heiderich assassinating someone? That was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. It was like Alphonse Elric slaying a kitten.
"Then, Edward Elric stomped right into it and tried to help him," Kiehle claimed. "Fortunately I was no match for them. Just a shame they managed to run off before I could stop them."
Mustang eyed him carefully. What had really happened? He had to find Edward and Alfons quickly, before the military got their hands on them again. It would be hard getting out of this one. He figured, the only way would be to set up both of their deaths now, not only Alfons'.
"I've sent a group to collect them at their house," Hakuro said. "We figure that would be their first stop."
Thank God he had sent Havoc out to get Alphonse already. Or else they would've probably kept him close to HQ as bait.
What a mess! All three of them had to disappear, and that fast.
"Both of you, send out more search units to look for them," Fuhrer Hakuro ordered. "I want them apprehended before all hell breaks loose on Central once again!"
Colonel Mustang and Brigadier General Kiehle saluted firmly, but as soon as the Fuhrer President had his back turned towards them and marched off along with the other officer, their eyes met like ice biting the air.
"Let's see who catches them first, Colonel," Kiehle said. "If I win I'll consider not revealing the fact that you've constantly covered up for a pair of traitors."
This was bad.
"Were any aspects of that story actually true?" Mustang retorted bitterly. "You really must have pissed Fullmetal off for giving him reason to beat the crap out of you."
Kiehle snorted. "He'll pay. Heiderich will pay. And so will you, Mustang."
His phone started ringing again. Great. Like anything could get worse now! He stepped quickly to his desk and picked up the receiver. "Colonel Mustang."
"Sir, I have some bad news!"
"Havoc? Where are you calling from?"
"A telephone box near the Elric's house. It seems, the youngest chief has vanished. He isn't at home, and right now there are countless MPs here searching the house all over the place."
Mustang clutched the phone hard. It seemed, all three of them had already vanished.
The flying machine couldn't be heard anymore. That was good. Maybe it wouldn't attack.
Almost there.
Alphonse stopped breathlessly near the gate of Central Headquarters. His fever had gone down, but he could still not run for long intervals without feeling exhausted. He leaned his palms on his knees and cursed his fatigue for a couple of minutes. He needed to get into the headquarters and find Mustang and his brother. He wanted to know what was going on or if they were tracking down the flying machine in order to follow it. He would not be left out.
It was already too late to react when he finally noticed how close someone behind him had approached, and a hand was pressed against his mouth. Al's eyes magnified and choked down a surprised cry, tipping his head back and attempted to knock the assaulter off, but to no avail. He got dragged backwards, which totally disturbed his remaining sense of balance and he was left planting his feet to the ground in a weak attempt to slow the attacker down.
What was happening? Who was this? What did he want with him?
Alphonse struggled until he got tossed back and hit something that felt and sounded like the hood of an automobile.
His opponent was over him again before he could move and his arms got locked down to the sides. Al squirmed and glared up at his assaulter. A dark-haired bearded man. Cold greenish eyes. Casual clothes. Al gasped out. "You..."
He knew him. He had been Edward's spokesman in the first trial.
He was from Thule Society. Peterson's friend.
"Hello Alphonse," Manfred Corbin said, and Al wondered he should feel scared or flattered that this man knew his name. "I recognized your fabulous red coat from your brother's trial."
Al's eyes darkened. "You almost made them kill my brother."
"That was the plan, yes," Corbin smiled. "Too bad it failed. But that's not important now. We'll have time to plant a bullet in his head on a later occasion. Right now, I'm very glad I ran into you."
Al tried freeing his arms, but he was overpowered in his current position. He wondered why this man was here in the first place. "The military is looking all over for you, and you're hiding right outside HQ?" he pointed out. "What do you want?"
Corbin grinned. "I want to get into Central HQ, more specifically the prison."
"If you want to turn yourself in, that won't be hard at all," Al said dryly. "Simply step to the main Gate and let the guards see you."
"Wrong." Corbin leaned down closer. "I'm here to break Peterson out of his cell. And you're going to help me."
"What?" Al wheezed. In the next second he was pulled up from the automobile by his collar and was held firmly face to face with the man, high enough that his feet had barely contact with solid ground.
"Listen boy, do as I say and I won't kill you when we're out of there. Is that clear?"
"Alright, alright!" Al said fast. "Let me go, I'll cooperate."
Corbin loosened the grip slightly and let Al stand on his own feet.
Like he would give in that easily...
Abruptly, Al twisted himself free, out of the man's grasp and hopped back while clapping his hands, powering his alchemy even if he was gloveless. He would not help people like Corbin and Peterson roam free.
He shot forward to transmute the man's jacket into lacing shreds around his body. That would definitely make him immobile long enough for Alphonse to call for the MPs at the main Gate. But then Manfred Corbin suddenly moved with surprising supplement. As if in slow motion he dodged away from his hand and the sparks of Al's transmutation died down around him in lack of material to transmute. Corbin span around Al's back and Al changed tactic the same instant, bouncing forward on both of his hands and shooting his leg up in the air behind him, making it a physical combat fight instead. Maybe he could make a new opening to do a transmutation. Corbin gripped his leg instead of getting hit and kept it in place. Al gulped. Before he could move by himself, he was flung through the air by his leg like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard with his back first and remained laying there, a groan of pain escaping his throat.
This man was strong. He was probably a well trained soldier.
"Being difficult, are we?" Corbin said, standing right over him, and Al found himself staring right up into the barrel of a gun. "Lying is not nice either. That alchemy must be taken care of." His foot pressed down on Al's ribcage, making him gasp out and eyes widen. "Hm, I think I know what to do." He put his gun away, stepped to the side and dragged Al up by one arm.
Al's vision swam. His body hurt. Damn it... Couldn't he take even this?
Then his right arm got abruptly twisted up behind his back, and he gasped out. "Stop!"
His joints creaked and hurt by his shoulder, but the man pressed his arm further up towards his neck. If he kept this going he would break his arm. Al squirmed, tilted his head back and went up on his tiptoes in an attempt to relieve the pressure.
"You're not so tough anymore now, are you?" Corbin grinned. He kept the hold without pressing any further.
Al winced. The pain was spreading like wildfire around his body. If he tried to move, Corbin would surely snap his bones!
"You'll do precisely as I say," Corbin warned. "When we're inside, I want you to show me the way to Peterson's cell. Can you do that?"
Al lunged out for his breath. "Y-Yes, I think so. I mean, I know which part of the prison he is, it's near the place where they kept my brother. Please, just let go of my arm."
"Good." Then without further warning, Corbin pressed his arm an inch further up and something inside Al's shoulder popped. With eyes as a pair of saucers Al screamed out in pain, but his cry was abruptly covered by Corbin's' palm again.
"That should prevent you from doing any more trouble for me for a while," Corbin commented. He let go of Al, who sank to his knees by the man's feet while clutching his hurting shoulder. He could hardly even move his arm without having it screaming in agonizing pain.
"If you try doing any more alchemy, I'll take care of more of your limbs next," Corbin threatened. "For now you merely need your legs to walk, is that clear?"
Al involuntarily shuddered. "Yes..."
Subsequently he was dragged towards the passenger seat of the car and got tossed into it. This time he had really managed to get himself into some deep trouble... Again.
Seated behind the wheel, Corbin drove the car closer to the main gates of Central Headquarters. Alphonse sat beside him, clutching his aching shoulder and tried not to make a sound. He wouldn't be able to do anything with his arm dislocated, so he had to endure that for now until he could find a way out of this mess.
Two MPs stood by the gate, guarding it carefully to keep away any illegal trespassers. Al had gotten strict instructions of how to behave (or else the guards would get a bullet in-between their eyes.)
Manfred Corbin stopped the car in front of the gate and one of the guards stepped to his window. He slid the window down.
"Identify yourselves," the MP said.
"I'm simply his driver," Corbin said, gesticulating at Al.
Al confirmed with a nod and flashed his state alchemist watch. "Alphonse Elric. He is with me."
The guard saluted. "That's alright, sir. Have a good day!"
It couldn't really get much easier than that. Al's heart sank down into his shoes. He had to somehow stop this man from breaking Peterson out by himself unless someone spotted them. But he was afraid his chances to do that had already flown out the window. Corbin kept his gun close. If Al opened his mouth to anyone, Corbin would kill the person he addressed without hesitation, regardless if he wanted to remain discreet or not. His cover would be blown anyway and he wouldn't have anything to lose. Alphonse couldn't take that risk. It was way too dangerous. He wanted to prevent deaths as much as he could.
They went inside the building, moving quickly but cautiously. Corbin always kept Al close in front of him with a hand resting on his shoulder (the one he hadn't dislocated).
"Is this the right way?"
"Yes," Al replied silently. "We're heading to the far back, east side of the building."
They met very few MPs on their way, and the few they met were way too busy with their own business to notice anything odd. They probably had orders in regards to flying machine that had showed itself earlier, which made Al wonder if it was related to any of Corbin's business.
Al lowered his voice after making sure no one was around to hear them. "What was the flying machine doing here a while ago?"
"To send out a message," Corbin replied.
Al felt slightly relived. "So, it won't attack?"
"Well, not yet. Not while risking hitting either Peterson or me."
So that was why he was getting Peterson out of prison. They had decided to rescue their comrade first, and not risk killing him during an attack. Still, showing off the flying machine worked as a diversion while Corbin got Peterson out. But that also meant, as soon as they were out, Thule Society would have full incentive to start attacking both HQ and the city. The deaths would be raging on. Al didn't feel very relieved anymore. If he didn't come up with something quick, everything would be over.
They had already arrived at the main doors of the prison area. They followed a narrow, white hall. In the end of it was another guard.
"What is your business here?" the MP asked, making no notion to let them pass.
Al was about to come up with something, but Corbin acted first. Not one second after, the guard was bleeding from a hole on his forehead and his pupils disappeared into his skull. The sound of the gun was different than he had ever heard before. It was drowned and low. Corbin had used a sound suppressor. A silencer.
Al stood stiff like a log. His eyes were glued on the body that had fallen facedown by his feet. He is not dead, he is not dead, he is NOT dead. But no matter how much he was thinking it, it didn't change the fact that he was. Al couldn't either move or talk. His whole body was trembling and he wanted to look away, but he couldn't!
"Move it," Corbin ordered.
"Y—" Al managed. "You—"
"Shut up and open that door."
"You didn't have to kill him!" Al swallowed. This is not what he had had in mind. If he couldn't prevent people from getting murdered right before his eyes, he'd rather find a way to overpower the man. He whirled around and wanted to get some distance enough to perform a new transmutation, but he was held back with an arm around his throat and jolted backwards. Then he was spun around and tossed down on the floor. Right next to the body. Al's breath hitched from the pain in his shoulder, and at the same time almost emptied his stomach by the terrorizing sight being so close, but he beat it down with a thick gulp.
"Find his keys and open that door for me, or I'll be sure you'll regret it," a voice sounding far away above him said.
Keys... Right.
With trembling hands Al started searching the dead man's pockets. He found the keys without having to look for long, and rose slowly while clutching them in his left hand. He tried to breathe and calm himself. He had to keep himself contained. Or else, others would definitely die too.
"Don't kill..." he whispered. "Don't kill anyone. Please."
"They're all going to die anyway," Corbin said, lifting his gun towards Al's chest, which made Al instinctively back away a few steps. "The next attack on Central will be the last. This time it won't be any experimental acts. We'll leave no survivors."
Al stared at the man, his eyes broadening until they almost were popping out of their sockets, feeling utterly shocked.
They would destroy everything? Kill everyone? No way... That couldn't be true.
"You can't do that." His fingers tightened around the keys so much it hurt. Then he looked up and met the man's eyes. "You'll never go through with it."
Corbin chuckled. "Why do you think so? This world means nothing to us."
"Because..." Al took a breath. "We'll stop you."
"How naïve," Corbin said. "Stop this rubbish now and unlock the door."
"If you promise me," Al said. "Promise me you won't kill more people. I can stop them with alchemy before they act."
"Fine," Corbin said.
Al let out his breath, not having even realized that he had held it. Then he turned and unlocked the door into the prison cells. He hadn't even done it before the grip of the gun hit his neck hard. He gasped out with wide eyes. This man didn't intend to keep any promises, he realized, as he fell in slow motion. But now it was too late. His conscious slipped as his eyes rolled back and he was gone before he hit the floor.
He didn't know how long he had been out, but he was still lying on the hard, cold floor when his mind started to slowly return. He groaned and rubbed his sore neck before trying to gradually haul himself back up with an arm that was still dislocated. He supported himself on his good left arm and looked up. He wasn't in the same place he was when he got knocked out, which meant his assaulter must have dragged him along while he was unconscious.
"Seems like he's waking up," a voice said to his left, and Al twisted his head to see who the voice belonged to, although he already knew. Corbin was still here, it seemed. They were inside a hall of prison cells, and one of the doors had been unlocked.
Thomas Peterson strode out of it with his hands in his pockets. "Took you long enough," he grunted.
Corbin scoffed. "I didn't let myself get caught in the first place."
"If I hadn't gotten that last minute suicide mission about bringing that Heiderich-kid along, I wouldn't have been caught," Peterson said annoyed. "Don't tell me we have to find him before we leave."
"Nah," Corbin said. "That can wait. Besides, we have this kid with us. One should be enough."
Peterson's eyes pointed down at Al. "You again. I guess I didn't make a mistake when I decided to spare you last time, or else Corbin would probably have had a hard time getting here." He stepped closer and kneeled on the floor in front of Al.
Al scowled at him. "What happened to the guards?" he asked.
Corbin snorted. "Sorry kid. I couldn't keep my promise."
Al stared horrified at him. He couldn't have killed them? For a quick second he totally ignored his arm and leaped up to his feet. Then he turned to the office room ahead of the hall with cells, where the guards usually would be and scooted forward to it. To his surprise neither of them stopped him.
He stopped in the doorway with a gasp. The room was a bloody mess. He counted at least five bodies. Everyone was unmoving. Dead.
Al stood there completely stiff and unable to speak before he sank down on his knees. Again the same question haunted his mind. For what reason had these people lost their lives?
He quirked his head up as he heard movement somewhere, and crawled on one arm and both knees towards the sound. Was someone alive after all?
A man with the insignia of Lieutenant Colonel on his shoulder lay on his back beside a desk, and moved an arm towards Alphonse, his eyes struggling to remain focus.
"Sir," Al whispered, looking behind him fast to make sure Peterson and Corbin were still busy in the hall with cells. It seemed like they were discussing something between themselves.
Still feeling dizzy, he crawled over to the man by supporting himself on his left arm. He reached him with a sharp breath.
"My name is... Matt Fernier," the man whispered. "You're... Edward Elric's brother, right? Mustang's..."
"Yes, yes," Al said fast. Then he suddenly discovered the large pool of blood gathering on the man's stomach. He gasped inwardly and swallowed. That wound would kill him in mere minutes. Al's thoughts swivelled around all knowledge of Xingian alchemy he had picked up during the time he had been out looking for his brother. He had studied it a little, but he wasn't very good at it yet. Still, he had to do something. "Just breathe and relax, sir. I'll try to stop your bleeding."
"Tell Mustang..." Fernier uttered and coughed.
Alphonse quickly opened his jacket and shirt, revealing the wound of the bullet. Luckily he didn't have too much trouble working since he in fact was left-handed. He could see the blank piece of metal sitting deep in the flesh of his stomach among all the blood.
"Thule Society will destroy everything," Lieutenant Colonel Fernier said in a raspy whisper. "Amestris... is in danger."
"Don't talk, please," Al replied quietly. He slapped his left palm into the palm of his injured right arm as the only way to clap in his state, and concentrated as he touched the wound. Somehow he had to remove the bullet first, or else it would be closed up inside his body. The alchemy touched the steel of the bullet, deformed it, making it longer and thinner on one side. Lieutenant Colonel Fernier's eyes were broadening and almost popped out of his skull, his mouth forming a silent scream. But as Al finished the first transmutation, the bullet was far enough to the surface that he could pluck it out with two fingers. He disposed of the small thing with revulsion and then clapped his hands again.
"It might hurt a little," he whispered softly, but Fernier didn't react much to his words. This time he lay his hand on the flesh beside the wound, stretching it along with the damaged arteries and muscles. He was almost glad Fernier lost his consciousness at that time, or else his scream might have alerted the two Thule soldiers and caught Al before he was done. The wound closed, still an ugly wound, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Al hurriedly draped the blooded clothes over it to hide the fact that he had helped the man, just as Peterson stepped up behind him and caught him in a chokehold with his elbow.
Al cried out, and his left hand automatically shot up to the arm that was holding him. Peterson shoved him back and dropped him heavily on the floor, away from the unconscious Lieutenant Colonel.
"What the hell were you doing, kid?"
The sharp pain in his arm made the tears well up in his eyes, and Al used it for all it was worth. He crumbled together and hid his face with his left hand. "You killed all of them... How could you? Why did they have to die like this? They're all dead!"
It was hardly acting. But at least he covered up that the Lieutenant Colonel actually was still alive.
"Stop that pathetic sobbing," Peterson grunted. "It disgusts me. You're just a kid, after all." He stepped towards Lieutenant Colonel Fernier, making Al's heart miss a couple beats, and he picked up the gun Fernier apparently never had had any time to use. He checked that it was loaded, and then he pointed it calmly at Al.
"Even if I didn't kill you last time, that doesn't mean I shouldn't kill you now."
Corbin stepped up behind Al and pulled him up by his arms. "Peterson, stop that crap. He's our ticket out of here if we're busted."
"Che," Peterson grunted, not lowering the gun. "What if he escapes? It's a bloody miracle you haven't been put out by some of that alchemy yet."
"I dislocated his arm," Corbin said. "He shouldn't be doing anything reckless."
Peterson sighed and finally lowered the weapon. "Fine, but if you try anything, boy, I'll make sure you'll never see your brother or anyone else ever again."
"Why?" Al asked shakily. "Why did everyone have to die? I don't understand. There are two worlds. Just go back and live in your own. This one will never be a threat to you."
"That's empty words from a small naïve kid," Peterson said. "Although, in the beginning we were mainly clearing off our doppelgangers in order to be safe."
"What... What do you mean?" Al asked.
"Oh, you don't know? I guess your brother hasn't told you this," Peterson grinned. "Two parallel people can't live in one world at the same time."
Al's eyes widened. This was news to him.
"This means, either you or Heiderich have to die."
He couldn't live... in the same world as Alfons Heiderich? Then... would it only be a matter of time? Was that why his brother was constantly worried for Alfons and believed that he was targeted by the Gate? It all made sense now. But why hadn't he told them? He was pretty sure that Alfons didn't know about this either.
"That's why Schiller and Ackman were in Lior. You found out where he was..." Al whispered.
"Yes, the whole point of the Lior-attack was to kill Schiller's doppelganger. Like that we've killed most of the threats against us. We wouldn't want to get picked as sacrifices by the Gate while being here." Peterson grinned. "Of course, we didn't find everyone, and they got eaten by the Gate when you made it for us."
Everything started making sense now.
I see. So Lieutenant Colonel Light died because Schiller came to this world.
Then why did Schiller die? Because he chose to?
Maybe that's how it all linked together. If Schiller had made that choice before the Lieutenant Colonel died, he might have survived. So, if either he or Heiderich had to go, it would work the same way. Either Heiderich would die in an accident like Lieutenant Colonel Light, or Al could choose to die. Either way, one of them had to go. He cared about Heiderich, and he was the only one who could save him. Although, he would never take a gun and shoot himself in the head like Schiller had done. No, it would destroy his brother if he did. A plan was forming.
Yes, dying for the sake of everyone else seemed like a good way to go.
Al lowered his head. "There's something I'd like to know," he said silently. "Are you going to attack Central?"
"Tonight," Corbin said. "Regardless if we come back to our base or not."
"And what are you going to do after that?"
"We're going to use what's left of this area to create a bomb. Chairman Eckart will be able to do it with her alchemy. It'll obliterate most of this world." Corbin chuckled quietly. "You might as well accept it."
Al stared at them like they were crazy. "Why would you ever want to do that? What's the point? And from the looks of it, you'll get caught in it too!"
"No, we won't," Peterson said. "The bomb will go off after we leave this world through the Gate. It will erase everything unworthy in this universe."
Al clutched his abused shoulder and felt how his body was shaking. It was like Lieutenant Colonel Fernier had just said. Thule Society wanted to destroy everything. This was almost too much. There was no time. How could he stop this? There was only one way.
"You need to get out of here, right?" Al said in a low voice. "Use me as a hostage. Then, you'll take me to your leader."
They both stared at him like he had lost his mind. Peterson laughed. "You want to try talking Chairman Eckart herself out of it? I doubt your charm reaches that far."
"Although, I can see why Schiller cared about this boy. His naivety is almost touching," Corbin said.
Al gritted his teeth. "Schiller was different from you. He understood that what you are doing is wrong."
Peterson snorted. "Now he's defending Schiller. This boy intrigues me."
"I don't think you knew Schiller very well," Corbin said. "He never hesitated to kill when he had to."
"Until he died," Peterson added.
"I knew him better than you think," Al said. "He didn't die for the sake of you or for Germany. He died for the sake of this world."
"THAT'S TOTAL BULLSHIT!" Peterson suddenly bellowed out in undeniable rage. He was over Al before he could blink and lifted him up by his collar. "Schiller was our comrade. He would never betray us like that!"
Al squirmed uncomfortably. "Then why did he help my brother escape? He realized he didn't want us to die. He wanted my brother to reunite with me again, even if he never got to reunite with his own brother from his own world."
Peterson gritted his teeth. "Damn it!" He tossed Al away, making him hit the floor on his side and let out a squeak of pain. "But fine. I'll fucking take you with me and leave your fate to Ackman. He was so jealous of Schiller for having a little pet like you." Then he smirked. "That will be your reward for turning Schiller on us."
Al struggled to get up on one arm again. He couldn't let words like that frighten him away from his task. He needed to go to Thule Society as soon as possible. He had asked them to take him to their leader, but secretly he meant for them to take him back to the Gate. Then he could use it to stop everything. Without a Gate, they couldn't go back, and if they couldn't go back to their own world, they wouldn't make a bomb powerful enough to destroy everything. Without the Gate, Thule Society's plans wouldn't work. Alphonse was resolute on that. He had been the one who had transmuted that Gate in the first place. All of this was his responsibility. Maybe he would never see his brother or anyone else again, but that was minor compared to what he would be able to save and what the entire world would lose if Thule Society succeeded. Yes, he would have wanted to say goodbye first. But something always had to be sacrificed in order to achieve something.
"We've been fooling around down here for too long," Corbin said. "Let's move it."
"You don't have to tell me," Peterson muttered, dragging Al up by his forearm. "Get up, kid!"
Al forced his legs to work, fortitude mixed with apprehension filling his chest. No more people were going to die if he managed to go through with his plan. An act in solitude was better than no act at all. He settled with that.
The arm that fell on Al's shoulder nearly sent him to his knees again as he was propelled forward.
"Sir, the broadcast has been sent out," Riza Hawkeye said after coming back into his office, saluting.
"Good. Several units have been sent out to the borders of the city to organize the evacuation," Mustang replied. He seemed stressed.
"Has there been any news on Edward and Alfons?" she asked.
"No, but the phone is constantly ringing," Roy replied crossly. "Someone has to stay here and guard it for me. I need to be out looking for them, not just sitting here!"
She nodded. "I'll tell Falman to do it. I'm coming with you."
Mustang calmed slightly down by those words and smirked. "I knew that."
She left as his phone rang again.
"Is it never going to end?" Mustang groaned, and picked it up. "Colonel Mustang."
"Reporting in, sir. A suspicious car is trying to leave Central HQ area."
"I'll check it out immediately," he said.
Falman arrived back into his office with Hawkeye, saluting.
"Warrant Officer Falman, please stay here," Mustang said. "And contact me if anything important happens."
"Yes, sir!" the grey-haired man replied.
Then 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye and the Colonel rushed out of the office.
"I think they've been spotted," Mustang said. "We have to hurry."
For now everything seemed good. He had succeeded in starting the car after choking it twice, and had managed to manoeuvre around the basement until he found the large garage door. As soon as it was open he had slammed his foot down on the gas pedal and the car had shot forward out in the open.
Alfons couldn't see anyone trying to stop them, at least not until they reached closer to the main gate. How was he supposed to get passed it? Edward was in no state for fighting right now, and neither was he. He looked at Edward in the mirror every two seconds, but now he was unsure if he was still conscious.
"Edward, stay awake," he begged. I can't do this alone.
He stopped the car at good distance from the gate, knowing well that he was taking a big risk and would probably get seen, but couldn't help it. He kept the engine running while he twisted around in his seat and crept halfway between the seats, lightly touching Edward's pale cheek.
Edward's eyes quivered and he opened them barely, attempting to focus up at him. "Stop worrying... idiot. Just fucking drive..."
Alfons sighed in relief. If he was awake enough to talk like that, then his life was probably not in any grave danger. "I'll get you out of here," he said softly. He hadn't even said it before he lifted his gaze and got a glimpse of the area through the back window, seeing another black military car heading straight towards them. He froze to ice. Already? It was only one, but that didn't mean they had the upper hand.
He jumped back into his seat and clutched the steering wheel, quickly stepping on the gas again, making the tires spin and the car move abruptly fast forward. But he didn't get far. He managed to see a glint of flaring, red alchemy light and the car shuddered heavily as something exploded underneath them. The car accelerated hard to the side and he clamped his foot down on the breaks.
"Shit!" He could smell the stinging scent of burned rubber. At least two of their tires had been ripped up. The car stopped and their pursuers stopped right beside them.
Alfons wondered if he could pick up a fight and then take the other car, but decided against it as he saw who exactly had captured them.
Colonel Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye stepped hurriedly out of the car, and Alfons was left staring petrified at them. If they were on the same side, why had the Colonel stopped them?
He stepped out of the car as well, hoping he could talk some sense into them.
"Colonel," he said, taking a defence position in front of the car, just to be sure. "Please, whatever the Brigadier General has told you, he's lying!"
"What in the world happened?" Mustang asked irately, ignoring Alfons' stance and grabbed him by the collar. "Both of you should've come straight back to me. You're making things much more difficult than they already are, Heiderich!"
Alfons stared at him for some seconds in disbelief. "Edward has been shot. I'm trying to get him to a doctor."
Mustang abruptly paled and let go of him. "What? Shot? Who shot him?"
"Kiehle, who else?" Alfons retorted. "It only scratched him, but he lost a lot of blood and I don't care what happens to me, just get him to a doctor, okay?"
Mustang stepped away from him and directly to the backseat of the car he had brutally stopped. "I'm not letting any of you get caught," he said, and Alfons' eyes brightened a little. "Just stopping you from doing something stupid," Mustang added, and opened the door of the vehicle above Edward's head, studied him for a second, and then he pulled him out into his arms, bridal style. Alfons found himself staring intently at the way Mustang carried Edward so effortlessly towards the other automobile. Edward seemed to accept the treatment, his metal fingers gripping trustingly at the blue uniform.
Hawkeye put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you out of here, Alfons. You're not safe here anymore."
Alfons looked down at his feet, nodding. "Everything is a mess."
Mustang put Edward gently into the backseat. "I'm an expert at clearing up messes. Hurry up and get into the car."
Alfons smiled softly at him. "Thank you, Colonel."
Right after another automobile shot away from the HQ area. It looked different than an MP car and it completely ignored the barrier by the gate, startling all three of them. It crashed right into the main gate, leaving the guards in complete distress and continued in high speed down the street.
"What the hell," Mustang muttered.
"Who was that?" Alfons wondered.
A good question.
Right then it crackled in Hawkeye's ear from her earplug and she adjusted the sound and speaker in front of her mouth. "Falman, could you repeat that, please?"
Mustang and Alfons darted their attention to her as her eyes widened. "Sir, he says someone broke into the prison. The guards are dead and Lieutenant Colonel Fernier was found badly wounded."
"Shit..." Mustang twisted around after where the grey automobile had disappeared. "We're going after them!"
Before Alfons knew it he was shoved into the automobile in the front seat beside Mustang, and Hawkeye joined the backseat next to a barely conscious Edward.
Mustang started the motor and shot off at full speed out of the area of Central Headquarters through the already broken gate. Alfons gawked at him, and then turned back towards Edward to see how he was doing. Hawkeye was already pulling out a small box of medical supplies from underneath the front seat, and Alfons cursed himself for not thinking of that before.
"Fernier wasn't dead, was he?" Mustang asked concerned.
"No," Hawkeye replied. "It seems his wound had been closed with alchemy."
"Alchemy?" Mustang frowned. "Who...? No one there was an alchemist, right?"
"No, sir, not among the dead."
Then Mustang remembered Havoc's phone call, and he had an idea of who the certain alchemist might be.
"Alfons," Mustang said, and Alfons turned his attention towards him again. "Peterson is not alone and he might be keeping someone we know hostage. I need you to stay on alert, this might get dangerous."
Alfons nodded firmly. "Yes, sir."
Mustang's eye narrowed through the front window towards the cloud of smoke they were chasing. Now, it was war.