AN: Sorry it's been almost a month since I last updated this story. I assure you, I will finish it. It's just that school has been frustratingly troublesome and in the way. I hope you enjoy this chapter. This is where A WHOLE LOT is revealed.
Happy reading!
Chapter Five:
Behind Unyielding Frost
She was a female of a fairly fine stature and a young adult, possibly only in her twenties. She had the trait of silky, black curly hair, and eyes so dark that they almost seemed to reflect off the tinge of purple. She had no bangs, instead letting the strands fall off to the side of her face and pointed chin, but even though the scientist was quite a beautiful woman, her physique echoed nothing more than something cruel and exhilaratingly sinister. Any living being could sense the killing intent that her presence filled every area with; just like her Drachman superiors had trained her to be.
"Ms. Nona Patton, sir!" Another spiteful looking researcher in a stark white lab coat stopped abruptly still in front of the woman who appeared to be in charge. It was a young man, seeming to be around the same age as the other, and just like most people in Drachma, he had the usual black locks, but close cropped. He had thick eyebrows and a gaze that mirrored almost no light, with round spectacles sitting on his chunky nose.
"What do you want Lee Grant?" Nona stated hatefully. Igus Lee Grant was simply a useless man who was wasting her time, just like all the others. None of them except her seemed to know what they were doing. "Can't you see I'm busy reading through these research notes? If you distract me any further in this task, I will not hesitate to hand you over to the general, or worse, the Minister. I'm sure he would be thrilled to lock you up and have you publicly executed in line fire for holding up his plan. After all, it is like a twisted form of treason."
The man scratched the back of his head, his nervous façade suddenly burning through his previously stiff stance. "M—my apologies, sir," he mumbled, "I just have some urgent news to deliver to you from First Lieutenant Sergei Char."
Her head snapped up. The lieutenant had a message to be delivered to her? Excitement flooded down to her very fingertips and a heart pounding tingling sensation pumped up her spine. This was it. This was her moment of truth. Something great had to happen now that the higher ups had begun to call on them. It was no secret that Char had a very trustworthy tie to General Albatross.
Though it was a well known fact that Nona and her scientists and investigators were not formal military but merely commissioned by the government to work on this project, there was nothing greater than the honor, especially when the men of the army needed them. It was the way of Drachman people.
"Spit out your information Lee Grant," Nona scowled, masking her unorthodox glee.
Igus coughed into a fist and stood up straight again. The cold weather was starting to get to him, which was certainly odd as he had spent his whole life in this country. He silently supposed that it was probably because of all the pressure this monster of a woman was placing on them. That possibility alone made it entirely feasible.
"They have the Amestrian alchemist in custody." He noticed his supervisor sit up instantly, snapping her elbows close to her lap. An alert twinkle glimmered in her eyes. "We can now continue to the last phase in our assignment. They will interrogate him for information and while doing so we are allowed to do whatever we want with him. When we are done with him, we are to report to General Albatross directly and he will decide what to do next with him." When Nona Patton's stare became a curious one, he added, "Most likely they will have him killed within the next two weeks."
She smirked. After all, Amestrians were her worst enemies. If she could have it her way, all of them would have perished by now, but as things had it, Amestris specialized in that treacherous alchemy. She was a scientist from Drachma and she hardly believed that that faction was a science. It made her tongue taste like bile. Though, she admitted that alchemy had its uses, and those uses would be used directly against the alchemy capital of the world.
Her malicious grin spread further upon her jaw. In fear, the other scientist backed up. From experience, he knew all too well that whenever Nona Patton had that kind of look, things were only about to become far more interesting for whoever was on the other end. Someone was about to feel a universe of pain and suffering.
"Very well," she laughed darkly, "Amestris' Fullmetal Alchemist will die after we're done with him. Make sure to report that to the general. I want to see that dimwitted brat squirm until he screams. That foolish country will pay for destroying the soldiers at Fort Briggs. They killed my brothers, and I will kill their Hero of the People. Soon, they won't have any hope left."
Yes. This was more than just a match over revenge.
ooo
He was running and a dark shadow chased the soles of his feet. The alleyways were pitch dark, engulfing him and suffocating him until no breathless air could exit his lungs. Laughter resounded in the foreground and footsteps came eerily towards him as he tripped and fell to the concrete of the night streets. The corner bricks of buildings loomed over him, mocking him in their height and their pride of standing higher than all else. He was trapped, and the fear that glistened in the young man's eyes refused to tell otherwise.
"He's gone, isn't he?" The figure before the fallen one rebuked him. "And you can't do anything about it." The snide remark pierced directly through the terrified man's heart, and the beating somehow still pounded even though he could not take but one breath.
"All your work, all your running away and pitiful attempts at survival, but you cannot accomplish this one simple task. You are the failure, just the opposite of what he ever was. Trust me. You will forever bask in his silhouette, and you will never set foot beyond it. He does not see you as an equal. He does not seek to save you from anything but the flickering dolt that is yourself." The darkness laughed merrily, as if watching another suffering was all the enjoyment there was in the world.
A hand reached to the man on the cold concrete. He gratefully took it, though its skin was deathly pale and clammy. Golden irises twinkled in the open city's lamplight, and Alphonse stood to face his enemy, or rather, the enemy he never wished to obtain.
The hand shook uncontrollably, a face becoming clearer to one's sight. "Why," the figure said in a hoarse whisper as his fingers let go, "Why couldn't you do anything for me, Al? Why did you betray me? I thought you were my only little brother."
The younger Elric whimpered away from Edward. His eyes widened in horror and he shrunk farther and farther into the depths of the everlasting shadowed walls. The hard leather of his shoes clicked tremendously on the ground and he stepped back until he finally turned around and sprinted, but the weary voice of his older brother echoed ominously in the background.
"Al…why did you do this?"
His breath hitched and he wanted so desperately to scream, call out in terror, and ram himself headfirst into the end of the pathway, but the pathway never ended. His leg muscles were burning in protest, and suddenly came before him a familiar scene, one that consisted of a ravaged battlefield and Drachman soldiers. Someone lifted a sniper rifle towards him, but he could not move, and then the shot fired, but nothing hit him. Like always, his brother had protected him, but he could not do anything as they took him away…
"Brother!" Al jolted awake in bed. His head was hammering and tender, and his breathing fast. Something stung in the back of his eyelids. What was it? He did not know until a blurry someone appeared in his line of sight. It was Roy Mustang.
"Crying? Fullmetal would hate to see that," the man stated plainly, his tenor deep. "Stay calm, Alphonse. More problems would cause too much, and hell knows we need more of that."
The teen didn't bother to answer. The events from the previous day plunged into his head like an overly rushed waterfall of knowledge he did not want to know. It was almost as if he was falling through the Gate again, information painfully sifting through his thoughts in nooks and crannies he never knew he had. He hated that feeling and he never thought he would have to feel it again.
"You've been sleeping for two days now. I assume that head injury of yours was the cause," Mustang sighed, running a hand through the raven locks of hair he donned. "The Drachmans have been becoming bolder and more violent since the ambush and unfortunately Briggs is only barely holding on. The fact of Ed, on the other hand…well…" He caught the frightened reflection in the Elric's eyes before continuing onward. "He's been reported missing in action. I'm sorry. We don't have any leads."
Now that he thought about it, Al's head was wrapped tremendously in gauze. His vision was blurry, but not just because of the fact that water had accumulated at the brim of his tear ducts. He felt extremely dizzy and the world was rocking back and forth, as if teetering on a seesaw that he could not sense.
Al's hands trembled with misery. He felt he could do nothing now. "You don't know where brother is?" He asked quietly. The question was barely heard through the thrum of early morning. It was funny how such a normal, ordinary day could swiftly turn into something so horrifying.
If this was what it meant to be in the military, he couldn't agree with his own decision of sneaking in to rescue Ed more. But then again, he had failed to even do just that. His brother no longer possessed the ability to perform alchemy. Both Elrics were injured, but Al couldn't say for sure if his older sibling was still alive and kicking. At that thought, his face broke into an intense frown. But for some reason, the image of that wound, the bloodstained Amestris uniform mixing with blue to flower and turn to purple, couldn't escape his memory. Ed had been shot on a vital area. Who knows if the gunfire had hit any important organs? It was more than likely that he had not survived.
And Al hated it. He hated it more than anything else in the world.
"Dis—disappeared," he whispered. "Gone. Missing. Vanished. Left..."
"Al, you're not making any sense right now. Pull yourself together," Mustang ordered albeit on edge. The youngest Elric sounded as if the situation had finally presented itself on a silver platter and subsequently discovered it to be poisoned. It was a curse with no cure, a miserable drought of the deadly truth. He was breaking down and only one of them was aware of the fact.
Al chuckled eerily under his breath, an action absolutely and totally out of character for the brother that was almost the exact opposite of Edward. His lips twitched upward, his eyes blank with nothing but despair and a complete disregard for anything else. He was going blind with hysteria.
"Brother…there's no way," he laughed silently, "He has to be dead. They shot him. I saw it. I couldn't do anything about it. He wasn't breathing…He wasn't…"
Mustang tried to counter the comment, the young alchemist's demeanor growing alarmingly unstable. He had never thought Alphonse to be the type of person to get like this, but then again, he could hardly imagine that he had known much of him at all. "Look," he started as he attempted to place a placating hand on Al's shoulder, but the action was immediately halted as soon as the Flame heard what the blond had to say.
"I can bring him back," Al murmured chillingly. "He was my only family left. Mom…mom was gone already, but brother…brother was always there. He was always…" The shiver in his palms increased and a quiver began in his voice. "I can. I can do it. I know the components to a complete human body. I can get the ingredients on a child's allowance. I can go to the market. I can make mom proud. I can make brother proud. I'll show him. I'll show the Truth. He can't take anything this time. I have nothing left to take…"
The temperature in the infirmary room dropped noticeably, but Mustang wasn't sure whether it was due to the weather outside or those disturbing phrases that the boy couldn't seem to stop himself from saying. If there was ever a time to be scared, the man would not hesitate to admit that it would be now.
"Shut up! Listen to what you're saying, Alphonse!" Mustang's deep voice sliced the thin air like a knife through a stick of butter. He shook the younger Elric violently by the shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye, a hard stare meeting one of hopelessness. "Human transmutation isn't the answer. You should know that. What the hell are you planning to do, huh? Lose your body again? We never said your brother was dead! We said he was reported missing! Even if the chances are slim, he could still be out there! Don't give me crap like that and think! I know you have more of a level mind than Fullmetal! "
"Listen," Mustang persisted to the hyperventilating alchemist, "We'll break your brother out, wherever he is. Ed couldn't die that easily. He's too much of a runt. But we do know one thing, and don't forget it…" Al closed his eyes, finally reassuring himself and nodded. "The Drachmans want Ed alive for whatever reason and we'll use that to our advantage. Chances are, wherever the enemy is keeping him, they have the same hostages we're looking for."
Mustang leaned back on the stool he sat on beside Al's bed. "We just have to come up with a plan." He took a deep breath as he said it, "A dog doesn't unhook his own leash, and if it gets chewed off, even a loyal puppy would come running back and begging for a bone."
A plan was a plan. It was a gateway of possibilities to something unseen. They had to find out if Ed was dead or alive, but somehow, even if his heart was indeed still beating, Mustang could not help but have the sinking feeling that there were some situations in which death was nothing more than a blessing and he knew which situations those ones were. Yes. He knew too much.
And even those who were as far away from the hell of war as possible could feel the tension. Families would heed the loss of lost loved ones. Fires, fumes, explosions, and hatred. They would all be unleashed throughout Amestris. The peaceful slopes of Resembool would not be spared either as the sun arose behind the yellow house of the Rockbells as Winry sleepily worked on a customer's order.
A soft knock pounded on the wood of the front door while she was about to lift her wrench in order to bolt in a new screw to an automail hand in-progress. The knocking sounded more loudly this time, and Winry sighed in resignation. It turned out that she would be the one who had to answer the door this time and not Granny. She was probably sleeping anyway. It was barely past six in theearly morning.
Her feet, which she only bothered to cover up with soft house slippers during the time of fine daybreak, dragged themselves across the mahogany planks. Left hand still unconsciously clutched her tool, she unlatched the door and was surprised to see a commissioned officer from the military standing outside. The Rockbell girl blinked the glimmer of light shining off of her azure stare, only to see the stiff man in front of her, his eyes also the typical Amestrian blue. According to her limited military knowledge, the number of stripes on his uniform indicated that he held the rank of sergeant.
"Is this the Rockbell residence?" the man inquired formally.
"Yes it is," Winry replied quickly. Why would someone from the military come to her house? For some reason, all she could see in the back of her mind were the retreating backs of her parents, never to be seen again. Al had been missing for days now. She could take a wild guess as to where he had headed off to, and she was certain that that was wherever his big brother was. And Ed? What about him? She remembered his retreating back as he boarded that train to Briggs Fortress. He had made a promise to her to come back, but then again…
"It has to do with the Elrics, doesn't it?" The soldier nodded a 'yes' in reply and soon she was more than aware of what was impending to come. Either the answer called for good news, or bad news and she could only desperately hope for the former.
"What is it?" Winry breathed as she felt her knees begin to slightly shake and her voice falter.
"I'm sorry; Ms. Rockbell," the sergeant stated in an unnatural formality, "but Colonel Elric went M.I.A. three days ago. Substitute officers are currently in charge of his regiment temporarily. Our rescue team is doing their best to search for him and other missing troops."
Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. The mechanic only barely registered an uncharacteristically startled cry from the military man. She stared at the floor, unable to absolutely comprehend what was going on. What had been happening anyway? For some reason, she could not bring herself to remember, but then maybe it was because she willed herself not to remember.
"I'm sorry…" the blonde quavered, "What did you say? That Ed is missing? That he could be gone? Al…what about Al?" Her chin shot upward and she bored a fierce gaze into the man's own expression. She had screamed the last sentence, but she didn't even realize it. Granny would surely wake up soon…
She felt like crying, no, more than that. She wanted to hide herself from the rest of the damned world. He couldn't be gone. Not Ed! He could fight! He was strong! But even though she knew she was battling with the impossible, her thoughts all wandered into the same, dark, damp, and sinful place. They were looking for him, but he was gone. Ed was gone and there was nothing she could do about it, and the worst part of it was, there was no evidence as to if he was alive or dead, nor if his younger brother was there and still living. What if they were both lost forever?
Even if they found him, she mused bitterly, the Drachmans would have tortured him or maybe he just went headfirst into an explosion, like her always does. Or did?
Footsteps. A groggy surprise. An old tone reprimanding some man for barging in on them. Then silence. Granny was awake. She was awake and Winry knew it. Granny was conscious to find her here, all hunched up on the dirty floorboards with nothing but an unpromising look to her eyes. How pitiful she must look, having to resort to the ground for comfort when she could not resort to anything else. It was almost as painful to attempt the action as it was to witness it.
"Why does the military take it upon themselves to intrude on private property?" She heard her grandmother utter angrily. "Why is my granddaughter in that state? Answer me you military dog!"
"Please ma'am," the soldier stated coolly, "Calm yourself."
Winry heard a slam and realized that the metal umbrella stand that stood next to the front door had been unceremoniously knocked over. Her grandmother was seething with anger, an anger she had never witnessed in her entire life. It was almost as if something had been unleashed from a caged upon the world. A beast, a furious thing. The woman before her was most likely not even Granny Pinako at all. She was a different person.
The old woman pointed a stiff finger towards the man. "You tell me right now what you meant by Ed being gone, and maybe we'll see if you get out of my house and my property without Mustang getting involved. If that man won't do anything, then I'll strip you of your pitiful rank myself!"
"Please, Ms. Rockbell. I think you are letting your anger best you."
"Best me," she spat while Winry stared wide-eyed from her position on the floorboards. "Best me? I'll best you! The military has interfered with this family for too long! If you're telling me and Winry that your 'rescue team is doing their best to search for him and other missing troops', then it sounds like doing your best isn't enough."
She couldn't take the noise anymore. It was too much, but it was also too little. She didn't know what she wanted to hear anymore. "Ok. Fine," the young mechanic whispered in a melancholy tone as she stood back up. The sergeant glanced over to her and her withering grandmother gave her a questioning look. "I get it. Ed is missing. Al is probably in danger. It's not like this is the first time this ever happened"—the man nodded and tried to speak, but Winry broke him off—"So just look for him."
The blonde ran her fingers through a strand of her hair, a trait she picked up only in rare and intense situations. "Find them all. I trust you," she said with finality and the two adults in a previously heated disagreement somehow ceased their animosity towards each other. Pinako closed her eyes and sighed, turning a glare to the ground and muttered something about getting breakfast ready. The soldier before the teen, on the other hand, did a very uncharacteristic thing for a military man to do: he smiled, and quite genuinely too.
"Understood ma'am," he barked firmly, clicking his heals together and saluting with the utmost posture. "Our troops will do anything in our power to discover the whereabouts of Colonel Edward Elric, and under the order of Fuhrer Roy Mustang, you and your grandmother's safety are also of top priority."
On that day, as Winry watched the man leave the yellow house she never hesitated to call home, the military had interfered within the confines of the intricate web that was her life once again. It was not the first time they had entered and left, thinking that their presence was nothing more than a mere smudge upon the horizon and not realizing that each encounter would leave more than just a mark. It was like a wound that would never heal or a scar that would never fade away. But with each meeting, her resolve only grew stronger. If all she could ever do was wait, then waiting would be exactly what she did, but this time she would do it in a place in which she was sure to receive an immediate answer.
An idea struck her abruptly as the softly streaming smoke and the sound of sizzling bacon took over her senses. This morning could be her last normal one, she noted inconspicuously, and without her grandmother noticing her actions, she crept into the back room in which all her mechanical supplies were hidden and began to choose what tools she would bring with her, but she had to complete a task before she forgot about it.
Nervous fingertips edging closer to the gadget, she dialed the number she wished to call and clutched the phone. Quietly, her ears picked up the static of the ringing and background clamor. Someone had finally answered it. A voice carried clear through and it was almost as if she was actually there, in front of that grand desk with clutter and official papers.
"Central Command," a woman said on the other line, and the anticipation in Winry's heart only managed to flutter with more intensity.
"Yes," she replied solemnly, keeping the emotion at bay for the time being. "This is Winry Rockbell. I'm a friend of Edward Elric. Please connect me to anyone in the office of the Fuhrer please." There was a ruffling and crinkling of papers and the girl knew she had won. At last, the woman asked her for the password and she stated it confidently with a murmur of "one, zero, six, two, Rebecca, Leon, forty-eight, Hawkeye." They tapped her onto the line and with a secretive smile, Winry knew she was in.
ooo
The floor was cold and that was all he knew of. His bones ached. His joints throbbed in ripples of anguishing pain. His muscles burned, but most of all, he was so sure that the side of his abdomen was being constantly tormented by the overheated flames of hell. It was a numbing type of pain, in an odd way, like he was feeling it and not at the same time. At moments, he could not know exactly how he felt; only that something was wrong and he was too much in a haze to do anything about it.
Edward could hear something. Was it a dripping sound? For some peculiar reason, the ground started to grow colder and a freezing sensation sliced through him like a knife. And soon after, his eyelids flew open, effectively releasing him from the confines of his own misery. At least, that was what he hoped would occur.
"What…" Ed mumbled to himself, "…the hell…?"
His head turned to the side on the icy, metal ground. The walls were completely gray and silver, only suggesting that they were made out of the same material. The room he was in had no windows, only a single, regular sized door off to a corner with a tiny set of bars that let in very little light. He noted that there was absolutely no furniture and that he was left unattended to save for the hastily wrapped bandages around his middle, and that he was lying spread-eagled on the base of a prison with his arms locked behind his back and without a bed.
The inside was dark and his cell was freezing. It didn't help that Ed only had pants and boots on, and it wasn't surprising that he was stripped of all weaponry. He guessed that his military coat was taken off due to the fact that it was probably soaking with blood when they detained him. He vaguely remembered being brutally shot in the side when he pushed Mustang aside, but most of it was mostly blurry. To add to that fact, the bandages that the Drachmans had placed on him were too tight. It made it hard to breathe, not that it wasn't already hard to thanks to the wound.
They probably did that on purpose, he mused in his head. After all, these people were his enemies and they had every right to show their contempt. It was in situations such as these that he truly longed for the freedom of being someone else.
"Damn it," he breathed. "I got myself captured. What am I supposed to do now?"
"You can get up you little dipshit, and follow me," a hateful voice replied sternly. The alchemist didn't even notice that door open. He felt something kick him on the side, exactly where he supposed red blotches of blood seeped through the wrappings and it took all he had to hold in the inward grimace he was about to fashion. "Oh, can't get up Fullmetal? That's too bad. It looks like I'll have to drag a half dead rat like you through the sewers and up the hallway. How about it?"
All Ed could make out was that the person before him was a man, obviously of Drachman decent so he most likely had the typical dark hair and dark eyes that came with the title. His own golden eyes were too out of focus for him to see properly, but he could feel the chains that bound his hands together clink as yet another chain hooked onto them and the prison holder stayed true to his word. Ed was dragged out of his jail cell and through the bumpy and uncomfortable hallways of the rest of the detention chambers.
Left and right were numerous confinement rooms, but he noticed that the section where he had originated from was tight with the best security. The cells in this area were not completely enclosed like his was; in fact, he could almost call them nice. There were normal cells with a wall of bars, filth infested beds and a decrepit sink. Well, at least they had a bed. Though the prisoners in the cells were chained heavily on their legs and could only move just about the space and never a foot away from the bars.
His insides squirmed when he heard the chilling sounds of people wailing and moaning in agony, but the worst part was that they were walking right in the direction of them. They escalated in height and he thought that his eardrums couldn't take it anymore. Ed's eyes widened when he even heard a woman yell out in desperation to let go of her child. The conclusion in his mind was clear. These people were sick.
When they had reached a wall with yet another metallic door, the man hulled it open and shoved him in. In that moment, Ed never had the thought that he could smell anything so sinister. If his vision was already blurry, it just got worse with the terrible stench. In fact, the last time he remembered sniffing up something so bad was when the marching mannequins stormed Central and tried to eat people alive.
"Get in there you son of a bitch. I won't tolerate any whining," the Drachman soldier said acidly. He dug his heel into Edward's shoulder blade as the teenager fell to the floor and bruised his chin in the process. Ed winced when the boot scraped against his back.
"What the heck's your problem?" Ed shouted as loudly as he possibly could. It sounded furious, that was for sure, but not quite as loud as he hoped it could be. It turned out that the throbbing from the bullet wound in his side was not helping his cause. "I'll kick your ass!"
The sole of the shoe went further into his tendons and twisted as an added effect. "I don't think you're in any position to be saying such things," his handler replied icily while his shadowy pupils wandered around the foul smelling area. "Take a look around you. What do you see?"
"Nothing, thanks to you. My face is up against the floor," he retorted.
With that retaliation, the man forcefully grabbed the end of Ed's ponytail and strained him to glimpse around the room. Though the prickling ache from the feeling of his hairs being pulled from his scalp was distracting, the alchemist knew exactly what he saw and knew exactly why is smelled so bad. He urgently wished to whomever could hear what he was thinking that he wasn't there at that very moment, looking half-animal, half-humans in the eyes as they balefully lingered in tremendous cages.
It was sick, disgusting, and awfully inhumane. Why were chimeras here, in a Drachman detention center of all places? They were imperfect experiments, yes, unlike those of his chimera acquaintances, Heinkel, Darius (Donkey Kong, he might add), Jerso, and Zampano. In fact they looked more like, and he shuddered to even suggest it, Nina. They were pitiful creatures with sad expressions. Visibly, some were deep in anguish. The body of whatever animal they were bound to and their human forms did not agree with each other and it was causing them a great deal of anxiety. This was more than just a war prison. It was some warped kind of laboratory.
Edward's face scrunched up. He couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell did you do? Why are there human chimeras here? What did you do to them! They're innocent people! They don't deserve any of this! They're human!"
His head slammed back onto the floor with full force. The bridge of his nose pounded and he was so sure that he had just cut his lip. "Why you little—" he heard the man start to say, but he never had the chance to finish his sentence, for someone else decided to interrupt them.
"Now, now, Ilyushin. I think you should be a bit more welcoming to our honored guest." It was a woman's voice, yet it was almost as horrifying as even that of the Dwarf in the Flask. It shook with authority and there was not a hint of hesitation. It was quite blatant that this woman was someone to be reckoned with. If she had power around these parts and this brainless soldier followed her orders, then she would be the one he would have to watch out for.
Unfortunately for Ed, the dimwit did follow her orders.
"Pick him up," the woman said coolly. "I want to see this Amestrian's face when I tell him exactly why he is here."
Edward was lifted up into a standing position. He admitted to himself that it was more comfortable this way, even if the bullet wound in his abdomen made him feel like fainting and the stench urged him to puke out the supper he never consumed. His hands were still locked behind his back and the extra chain that was attached to his cuffs was still being help by his prison handler.
"Alright lady. What do you want from me?" Ed spat at the Drachman whose appearance he took in. She had black, curly hair and eyes even darker than the pitch of night. She was young, barely a few years his senior and was actually kind of attractive, except for the fact that to Ed, she was the most hideous woman in the world. She may have been beautiful on the outside, but he could tell that her heart was ugly and she radiated a bleak sort of aura, one that no one could ever love. In short, she was nothing compared to Winry.
The woman smirked cruelly. "My name is Nona Patton. I'm a Drachman scientist, and, as you can see here—" Her arms moved into a wide arc as she described the scene around her, "—all of this is my work."
"This is all your work," Ed spat, "You're the one that ruined all of these people?" He scowled and raised his chin, prideful of the fact that he was over a head taller than her and pointed an accusing expression in her face as if it was with his finger. "I know you Drachmans don't practice alchemy, but that doesn't mean that you should be jerking around with it! It's dangerous! There are laws! Equivalent Exchange! Ever heard of that? You can't gain something without first giving up something else in return! What you did to these people…" He snarled at the floor. "…it's not equivalent to them at all!"
There was a pregnant silence after that. No one dared to utter one word, but it was broken, almost immediately, by Nona Patton herself. Laughter, treacherous and ominously gleeful laughter echoed off the chamber walls. It started slow and quiet, but eventually grew into something that bounced off the ceiling like the head of a drumstick would off of its instrument.
Patton chuckled in between breaths, a mocking grin plastered across her face. "You stupid boy," she said as she kept her twisted happiness swathed around her mind, "Drachma was never searching for your peoples' deplorable law of equivalency. If it causes your head to fill less with these pointless thoughts, we could merely cheat our way in, and that is exactly what we did to these people." Her arm gestured to a cage with what looked like a half-wolfhound, half-human chimera. His gaze followed it.
"For example, this man," she said conversationally and Ed felt like she was being sarcastic towards him. The scientist touched a tag that was tied onto one of the bars of the cage and inside the chimera whimpered. She read what was written on it aloud. "Chimera 2250. He was an Amestrian soldier almost a week ago and was mixed in with a wolfhound. When injected, he foams at the mouth and becomes increasingly violent."
She smiled at Edward and he glared at the woman as she continued. "So you see, it's a win, win situation. We tamper around with alchemy and get these vicious chimeras, while at the same time you lose an Amestrian man, woman, or child. Take your pick."
"You're sick," Ed said wholly with contempt. At that very moment, he despised this woman most out of all of the people he had ever known, and that was certainly a feat in and of itself. She had a vicious and insane view of the universe and if he was ever in the position to do so, he would gladly take the opportunity to knock some sense into her and make sure that she doesn't wake up from a coma for the next fifteen years…or more.
"Really," Patton replied in an eerily solemn demeanor, "I'm sick? Last time I recall, your people were the ones that blew up our soldiers behind your Briggs Fortress two years ago." Ed was about to retort, but she cut him off with a threatening smirk and snagged a dimly lighted picture that was paper clipped onto the wolfhound chimera's nametag. "You might enjoy this snapshot. Before we captured this man, he made such an awful attempt to flee and call for the Amestrian military. You see, this is the look on the faces of your people that I so quite enjoy."
Seeing how many chimeras there were was enough to push Ed off of the edge. There were more than thirty of them. But seeing the picture was enough to make his chest hurt with guilt and his memory flashback to the pained form of Nina Ticker, the little girl he could never save from a misfortune that her own father brought upon her and was so cruel. He discerned it now, those familiar olive eyes that this wolfhound had, the messy brunette coat that went halfway past those floppy ears. There was no mistaking it.
The petrified person in that photo was Pitt.
He gasped for air. The guilt and disquiet was overwhelming. He couldn't take it anymore, and suddenly the Elric became one of the people in the torture chambers that hollered for the chance to cling on for dear life. The piercing laughter filled the room again, but this time it wasn't just Nona that was laughing, his handler had joined in. They were sick, sick people. He couldn't say it aloud or in his head enough times to satisfy his fury.
When Ed calmed down his eyes were filled with a sorrowful shame. The laughter had ceased and the woman scientist only genuinely smiled at him, as if she was enjoying every single moment of this messed up form of entertainment.
"So I see you knew him, alchemist," she murmured seductively, glancing back and forth between Chimera 2250 and Edward. She ordered Ilyushin to chain him tighter and the man heeded to her command. Ed couldn't move a muscle and he only yearned that he could as the woman left for a moment and returned with a syringe filled a quarter upward with a transparent liquid substance.
The onyx eyed woman allowed a tiny waterfall of the liquid to squeeze out of the end of the tube and beckoned for the pathetic creature. When the chimera did not come, Ed silently commended Pitt's inner rebellion, but was startled to see that the crazed scientist had taken out a whip from her hind pocket and cracked it against the pen bars. The half-human animal did not hesitate to come out then.
"Watch and see, Amestrian vermin," she cooed with venom, "This thing you claimed to be a human will turn into nothing more than a prowling beast." Patton squinted her eyes at the clear essence in the syringe and explained rather plainly that it was a modified form of amphetamine. The drug would increase the animal's sense of being and wakefulness, in other words, cause what was once Ed's childhood rival to transform into a writhing, sniveling, conniving monster.
"A perfect killing machine," she added happily. It made Edward want to let his automail left leg make contact with her skull and ensure an intense concussion that would relieve her of her memories, but he dreaded the knowledge that he was in no position to perform such a task. "Though it does have its side effects, it's good enough to last for about a couple hours."
His arms were tied, he was injured rather seriously, and these two obviously psychopathic people were holding him back. Chimeras, once all human and separate from these mammals, were staring at them all, taking him and his captors in one by one. If they could not do anything, no one would, and Ed bitterly realized that if he could not save Pitt from a fate worse than death, than he didn't deserve to survive this encounter.
Gradually, her steady hand made its way to the edge of the bars that surrounded the chimera. Edward struggled aggressively, tugging frantically at the chains that bonded him, but to no avail. His captor gripped them tighter and shoved a fist into the bloody wound that graced his side, silencing his attempts for the time being into careful breaths and the cracked reverberations Ed made on his tongue in order to quiet the reflexive cries that threatened to escape.
The needle sank into exposed fur, the creature arching its spine as it dug into the back of its neck. Translucent fluids flowed lower and lower down the length of the tube until there was nothing left but an empty, fragile glass. Promptly, Nona pulled the object out and snickered. It was evident that she was the mad mind behind these accursed experiments and she was the one who enjoyed them the most, but even her insanity couldn't stop Ed from seeing what he witnessed next.
A moan. A moan like none other he had ever heard before ripped through the air like the ricochet from a rapid-fire machine gun. It was sharper than shrapnel itself, tearing a hole as if it could intrude into the next world. The sound escalated from the intimidated whimpers of a canine into a mixture of man and man's best friend, shrieking, bawling for the help that would never come. Claws scratched ferociously on the bottom of the cage, leaving vicious and deep cut marks. The wolfhound-Pitt snarled and growled as all traces of humanity left it for these two hours. There was nothing but pure rage in those olive eyes, nothing but a need for selfishness and the need to cleave and kill with the sweet taste of crimson blood.
Ed heaved on his chained wrists and saw wide-eyed what he wished he could undo. "STOP IT! WAIT! PITT!" he bellowed over the terrifying noise. He sensed that all the chimera wanted to do was to destroy everything it could get its claws on. But then, its reply was the most pathetic thing he had ever heard.
"Pitt…yes…maybe friend…come…save…" it blurted unhurriedly between huffs, but Edward had had enough. He directed his full attention to the abominable woman to his front and prepared for a terse exchange of verbose blows. If his fists could not serve as his weapons, then he was more than ready to concoct a formula that involved poisoned words, and tip the contents into the lips of the enemy until they squirmed and begged for mercy.
"What do you want from these people? Why did you bring me here if all you wanted to show me was your sick experiments?" He roared with such intensity that the walls seemed to shake.
"This is alchemy dear," Nona Patton purred as she tucked the syringe into the pocket of her white lab coat. "It is our little Equivalent Exchange. Your country gives us their people, and we give you our wrath for what you did to our brothers in the past. It is a fair trade of revenge, is it not?"
"STOP JERKING ME AROUND! This isn't Equivalent Exchange! What the hell do you want from me?"
The growling did not seem to stop. Ed's fists were shaking so much that if the creature was in a calmer state, you could hear the chains rattling as if in a cold sweat. The other experimental chimeras whimpered in the back of their prisons, half-bears, half-wolves…they were all there, but none of them looked as equipped to murder as this one did.
"Only your assistance Fullmetal Alchemist. The ranking you don in your military is rather high and the esteem you have gained throughout your travels has gained you allies in your country and enemies in ours. Oh yes, you are infamous even outside of Amestrian borders," the woman scientist said conversationally, ignoring the wails in the background, "And your importance to the Flame holds an interesting play for ransom as well."
She extended her right hand, completely overturning the detail that Ed had both of his restrained behind him and he wouldn't have taken her hand and agreed even if his life depended on it.
"Well," the young woman questioned, dark eyes glancing at her outstretched gesture, "Do we have a deal? Will you assist in our systematic endeavors with your undoubtedly vast knowledge in the science of alchemy?"
His answer was swift and precise, straight to the point. He would show her exactly what he thought of these experiments. "Like hell I will!" Ed spat with a scowl.
There would be none of that while he was around. These people would not take advantage of him and use his talents or alchemical wit against his own nation, not to mention would he ever think about transmuting innocent souls into mindless beasts when they should have been happy with their mothers and fathers and children and siblings; not when they could live their lives without any sense of taboo.
"I see. Well, you don't have any other choice. It's do or die," Nona replied frigidly. It took Ed a second to realize what she was implying. He knew that they couldn't kill him, otherwise, they wouldn't have put up with the trouble of shooting him and letting him live, nor would they have brought him to this hideous laboratory in the first place. For some reason, the idea suddenly clicked in his mind. Why didn't he see it before?
"So even a refined scientist like you can stoop that low," Ed breathed back angrily. "You plan to blackmail me. It's either I do your dirty work or a chimera dies for it, right? Your labs could be the best of the best in Drachma, but you can't do anything without an alchemist. Now that's just twisted."
Patton smiled ominously and clasped her dainty hands by her front. "Indeed, You're observational skill are just as they say, colonel," she said while pointed her sharp chin towards Chimera 2250. "If you hope for it, we can start by killing him."
A handgun was suddenly pointed at the animal unawares. She pulled the trigger and a bullet just barely missed the warped animal's skull by mere millimeters and lodged itself into the metal wall behind it. Ed grimaced and the Drachman woman knew she had won this battle. In fact, it was won with the perfect set of cards to play. After all, was that not the game of war?
A realization snapped inside Ed's mind. He wasn't so sure if his hunch was correct, but he had to be sure so he asked if he could take a look at their compiled research notes so far to get a head start in a monotone. If he was going to be forced to work for these people for a time, he might as well make the most out of it and gather some useful information. Mustang may be an idiot, but he was trustworthy, and Ed knew that in due time, they would figure out that people were missing and break them out. He just had to bide for more.
The blond was led further past the experimental chimeras and into a hidden and empty back room that was filled to the brim with flyaway papers and with wooden tabled cluttered with book, inkwells, pens, and tattered notes with intricate transmutation circles. He had to admit that he was mildly impressed with the handiwork, but that did not stop him from seething with fury.
Ed heard Nona speak with authority to a fellow coworker whose name he gathered was Igus Lee Grant. On the other hand, Ilyushin was subsequently ordered to chain him to the chair that he would be sitting on, but only to free his left hand, keep down his right one, and bind his ankles simultaneously. They were taking precautions to that extent because they wanted to prevent him from clapping his hands together and using alchemy. The only problem was, the enemy did not know that he could not use it anymore and could not for two years, nor would he ever be able to again. He supposed he could exploit their ignorance of this piece of information to his advantage if the situation ever called upon it. It was good to make the enemy think that he could still pose a greater threat.
Nona nodded to the men and left him alone. He could do virtually nothing to escape, and Ed knew how true that was. If he had more energy or perhaps if the stupid bullet wound did not pound fiercely against his ribcage, he would make an attempt. But the fact remained that he could not.
Instead, Ed busied himself with learning what there Drachman scientists wanted and handpicked a few books. Most of them were old and falling apart, as if they had belonged to people that could not care for them properly, but then he noticed that some were written in code. They were Amestrian alchemic research journals.
Motivated, he flipped through the pages and stumbled upon writings on common knowledge on the basics of alchemy to the complexities of transmuting materials into intricate shapes or patterns, especially involving animals and combining them together, a traditional chimera without the use of a human body. He knew close to everything written here and it was evident that they were using these notes as a means to fuel their crimes. But then, Ed remembered that chess game he played with Mustang. What had he said indirectly again?
Yes. Someone was stealing alchemical research journals from alchemists all over the country and no one knew why.
"This is it. These are the bastards that are doing it," Ed murmured in comprehension as he fingered the missing alchemic research notes. This was it. This was the reason for the war, the secret behind the solid and unyielding ice. He thought he had it all figured out, that is, until his searching gaze met a familiar phrase.
"The sun and moon reflect the eye but separate as two until there is only the eye's window, the crescent, and the four attached. These are thrice the greatest," he read aloud. It turned out that the military's original suspicions on these sentences was correct.
Body, mind, and soul. Now he understood perfectly. They needed this information in order to make chimeras. It was essential to know the figurative components to the human body like the back of your hand if you were to conduct a transmutation such as the bonding of two very different creatures together without causing a rebound. But was there something more? He couldn't be so sure, so he kept this new information in the back of his mind.
"Wait," the Elric mumbled to himself. This had to be it. These weren't just the people that were stealing research journals, they were the reason people started to go missing! All those chimeras were Amestrians, that woman said so herself, and if those were Amestrians, then they must have some more in this building!
Missing research journals, missing Amestrian citizens, the body, mind, and soul…it all fit! And then, Ed realized, this was the conspiracy that was so sinister, even Mustang could not figure it out. This was the real backdrop behind the Drachman-Amestrian conflict. They were using their own enemies as weapons against Amestris. It was almost like the ideal vengeance.
The very idea of it made him want to be puke.
But it would be by the following morning when things turned out for the worse, and he had thought that this information alone was bad enough. They had spit Ed back into his prison cell well past midnight, and he could only guess that because of the streaming darkness from the few windows the facility acquired.
He couldn't remember exactly how it happened, just that they had somehow dragged him back. He had an inkling that those scientists might have drugged him until he could no longer create coherent sentences. He did recall, however, a sharp tingling sensation soon after he had discovered their treacherous secret. The back of his neck was sore. That had to be the spot where one of them had pricked him senseless. Plus, both of his wrists were bound again and he was pretty sure that in the midst of his weak struggling, someone had punched him squarely on the cheek, for it was tender there too.
The metal of the ground was as freezing as ever. The rumors of the frigid Drachman weather were not made to disappoint. Ed could no longer feel the tips of his fingers and his right leg was fast asleep, the left prosthetic one felt nothing as usual, but he was glad that they had decided to leave him with it still attached. Everything ached and burned unpleasantly as he turned over to nurse his swollen cheek with the chilly floor. It could serve as a makeshift ice pack for now.
Suddenly, a hasty knock resounded. There was a click and a creak, and a streak of dull light. Ed noticed that the single door that led to his cell was opened and closed rather abruptly. A stiff man sauntered in, pulling along a chained up prisoner in his wake and behind them was yet another man who was huge in contrast to the other two. The lesser Drachman man, the eldest Elric brother learned, was called First Lieutenant Sergei Char and the other person with clearly higher authority was formally introduced as General Albatross. For some strange reason, a shiver ran through Ed's body as that name was mentioned.
But it was this prisoner that they hauled in that really caught his attention. The resemblance was unmistakable, what with those deep gold-brown eyes and blond hair that was trimmed messily to frame the side of his face. The male was the missing Sergeant Denny Brosh in the flesh.
"In, you filthy Amestrian," the aide blurted in an irritated tone to his cargo. "You're useless."
Edward's stomach writhed in apprehension. It only enhanced what people already said about him in the knowledge that the Fullmetal Alchemist was undoubtedly a master at instinct and predicting the outcome of certain circumstances. What came subsequently were both an appalling shock and a blessing, for both halves of the predicament were essential to his survival, military loyalty, and the pursuit of keeping his dignity intact. In short, he basically didn't have any miniscule bit of an idea of how to react.
A harsh clinking of chains dominated the stuffy cell's surroundings and broke a silence that Ed was sure was existent since the premature hours of the morning. Char was immediately asked to leave and guard the entrance while Brosh was rudely pushed in until he fell flat on his face. The general made no noises as he walked gravely towards the site of the two fallen men, but his eyes, which the alchemist distinguished looked like the color of the sky before a brutal lightning storm, were highly amused. This instance, Ed's breathing hitched for a second.
"This man claims to know you quite fondly. I take it you worked with each other for a time?" the bulky Drachman general said in a deep and severely accented tone. "For now you scrap heaps will be cellmates, as his—" the man pointed a gruff thumb in the direction of the sergeant "—mate will be interrogated separately today."
His pupils seemed to zero in on the Elric. "As for you, my helpless little boy, I will be asking you specific, ah, questions, that I know you will be so driven to answer." Soon after that comment, Ed soon found a threatening kick to his wounded side to be less than welcomed. It took all his possible effort to suppress a feeble groan that would surely portray him as weak, and he most definitely did not want to appear that way, especially when his adversary could use it against him just like everything else.
He put on a straight face and forced himself to divulge. "What? You're gonna kick an injured man and try to get information out of him before he passes out?" Ed breathed laboriously, "That's bullshit."
Now the tip of a hard, frozen leather boot rammed into the bridge of his nose. A slight numbness riffled from the crown of his head to his nostrils and something thick and sticky dripped gradually to Ed's top lip. It wasn't difficult to figure out what had just occurred. At least part of his nose was either badly damaged or broken. Fantastic.
Albatross growled, his jet black hair and prickly beard showing as the more prominent features in his evil looking façade. "Don't you dare mock me, scum!" he shot back angrily. "Tell me you're real name, Fullmetal Alchemist and I may let your torture sessions become brief."
No matter how much this man kicked him, Ed still managed to pull off a strong-willed demeanor and he was adamant about making it seem true and not just for show. "That's some joke," he said bravely, "I thought these were questions." Needless to say, the Drachman did not quite find the retort as humorous as he originally thought it was. That earned the young colonel a swift head pounding into the metal floors until he was sure his forehead had a nasty flowering welt on it. Brosh stared vulnerably in the background.
"Tell me your name!"
Ed scoffed, glowering at the foot that had just done him in moments ago. His mind was reeling with ways to tick this guy off, but then again, his whole body was in no condition to take anymore random beatings from these idiots. However, his personality urged him to take the high road and keep his dignity, even if it was just for a fragment longer. "Why should I, General Asshole? You'd only use it against me."
No hit came this time around. Instead, a whimper from Sergeant Borsh's area reached Ed's ears. He winced, for the man had just turned his military might on him. Smart. It was a basic strategy in interrogation. If you could not get the information you wanted from the subject through direct physical pain, inflict said pain onto another medium and use it against them. The worst part of that ordeal was that it had an almost one hundred percent chance of succeeding and this was no exception.
"Hey," Ed called, "You leave him out of this! You wanted me to answer your questions, so I'll answer them however the hell I want to! Now act like the damned old lady you are and ask me whatever you want! Don't pretend to be more than third rate by getting him involved! I don't care how strong you think you are, but you're not getting anything out of me."
The tall and bulky man placed his arms behind him, walking calmly around the two blonds with a serious expression. He observed them, dark eyes wandering from face to face, and soon, a cruel smile found itself creeping onto his features. An uneasy feeling seeping into the room and Ed was suddenly unaware if the chill had to do with the temperature or the menacing excuse for a human that so easily made them susceptible to danger. It was unnerving and Ed despised it.
General Albatross chuckled ominously, a flicker of an odd and frankly disturbing amusement showing. "I see. I suppose the time has come for me to be more persuasive." He shoved a hand into his pants pocket and took out an unexpected token. Because of the result, Ed only let his irritation reveal itself.
"I'll make this place hell for you," the Drachman continued, glancing at the unknown photo for a few seconds and not bothering to show the alchemist what it was. He was biding what time he had left. The resolution would be too sweet to pass up.
Edward glared at the ground and answered determinedly, "Too late. I already went to hell and got sent back. You could say it costs a lot, or that it costs an arm and a leg."
At this reply, Albatross' grin only widened, his bristly chin squaring off into an elongate rectangle and his chapped lips cracking with a sickly mirth. It was evident to Ed just how much both this man and Nona Patton enjoyed his pain, and the pain of his fellow Amestrian people at that, but his anger flared to an even greater height when he saw what was finally thrown mere inches from his face.
A gloved hand tossed up the picture, briskly causing it to hover in the air for a moment in the frigid early morning until is landed gently onto the prison floor. This had to be a hoax. Everything about the one, singly motion was the most mocking thing Edward ever witnessed in his entire life, but when he did realize just how badly he wanted to strangle this man, all he could see was the crimson flame of hatred and irrational behavior. His emotions almost took the best of him away.
He thought seeing Pitt's picture as a chimera was the worst they could do to him. He was dead wrong, for this time, it was a photograph of Alphonse, his back turned and unaware while he walked with his hands in his pockets while wearing his brown leather coat. It must have been taken rather recently, for the background was covered in snow. One thing that Ed noticed was different was the fact that he wore a bandage around his head. He guessed it must have been received while he was knocked out for however many days in a prison hold and unaware of his injuries.
"Our spies declare this to be your younger brother," Albatross said matter-of-factly, "Don't think he will remain unharmed if you continue your tirade. Innocent lives are on the line, Fullmetal Alchemist. You will share your knowledge and you will work for us whether on your own accord or not. Patton has informed me of your consent, but as for me, I have decided to go directly to the source. After all, you and your brother are famous past your puny Amestrian borders. It might do us good to eventually rid of you both."
"You bastard," Ed breathed callously.
"In due time," he went on unfazed, "I will have you in my grasp. But I do think I will have to give you a day, for your stubbornness only fits to suit you, but just barely. Without waiting, your meaningless resistance would be too difficult to comprehend." Instantaneously, he kneed Ed in the stomach, and the teen really did spit out blood. The sight, it seemed, was far too entertaining to behold.
"It doesn't matter though," the foreign general breathed dissonantly, "Either way I'll still have you cornered and still begging for mercy. You will die here, and even though you resist now, soon you will be the one asking for death."
Albatross smirked forebodingly. "You'll have your way for now, Amestrian, but mark my words, I will be back and next time I will not hesitate to break you."
Ed could not respond as he watched that disgusting man and his retreating footsteps, a welling pit of misery engulfing him as Sergeant Denny Brosh struggled to help him sit up. For now, both men were trapped in a place they could not hope to escape on their own. They were being watched twenty-four-seven, and for some reason, they were suddenly locked up together. But neither of them knew the meaning and Ed's sense of understanding was steadily slipping away.
The barely spoke to one another, too lost in a state of dull aches and fright to say anything other than what was necessary. They assisted each other in moving unmovable legs or arms, and stayed near one another when it became too cold. It was the life they served as prisoners of war. It was a life that they had ultimately brought upon themselves, but they could not stop wishing beyond anything else that someone would come to rescue them, and Ed especially had a deep desire to save his brother and the guiltless souls transformed into hideous beasts.
After close to three hours, yet another clicking noise signified that someone was about to enter their hold. Both of them could not hide their despair when they thought it was to be that wretched general, but were so elated that it was not him that they were genuinely in pleasant terms when a Drachman woman with short, dark brown hair that was cropped at chin length stepped into the room.
Ed thought he saw a twinkle of recognition in her eyes, but he dismissed it as just a trick of the dim lighting. But nonetheless, there was something familiar about this woman.
"Your food," the private said tonelessly as she kicked the tray in, slamming the door shut in her wake.
The metal clang of the cell resounded in their eardrums, and for the first time in hours, the sergeant and the colonel shared a long, searching stare with one another. For some reason, and they could not quite figure out why, they felt a distant sense of hope. They took a peek at the sorry excuse for provisions, which consisted of two unheated bowls of tasteless chicken broth and two halves of tough bread. Brosh, being the only one who did not have his hands bound anymore, took the tray towards them and with great difficultly, Ed ate his own share nearby. For that moment, both men could be satisfied.
AN: I'll probably have a little more time this week, so expect chapter 6 before a month has passed! (That's a good thing, right?) Hopefully the waits won't have to be as long as it was for this one. I'm so sorry!
Leave a review and tell me your theories on what will happen next! I'm interested! Will Al stay safe? Will his plan be revealed soon? How the heck is Ed going to get out of this one? And what's Winry planning?