QUICK AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it took so long to update! I promise you'll never have to wait that long again!
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Chapter Five
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My name is Nemesis, and I am awfully impatient and easily bored. This is where you say, "Hello, Nemesis!" in a chorusing tone.
Readers, these before-chapter reminders of what has happened in the previous installment of my short and miserable life have got to stop. I simply have too busy of a life to be constantly summarizing what has happened in a previous chapter. You would have to be incredibly dimwitted (which I am assuming you are not) to not remember that I have just recently met the Fullmetal Alchemist, whom I am destined to kill.
It is, of course, acceptable that my birth heritage has just happened to slip your mind, as it so often does mine, so I will repeat: my parents and sister were all mysteriously murdered when I was somewhere around two years old, and I was within minutes "found" by our green-haired friend and taken to his master.
Now, readers, if you have not spotted a suspicious connection in these events, or perhaps missed the quotations around the word 'found', then maybe you are just as dimwitted as I pretend you aren't.
Back on the topic of the discontinuation of recalling briefly the events of previous installments before I begin a new chapter, which by the way is incredibly dull and repetitive for the poor author who has spent her whole life and will undoubtedly spend the rest of it wallowing in her own self-pity, I am trusting my beloved followers with the oh-so difficult responsibility of remember the former going-ons of my unfortunate tale.
To make a quick interjection: if you are like me, then you were marveled by the length of that last sentence. This next one is even longer, my dear friends.
As I sit here in the small, crammed living room of my house in upper-London, forcibly remembering my life as a fifteen-year old and writing it down in horrible detail (thanks to the suggestion of my darling but terribly empty-minded husband, who sadly believed my "stories" of Amestris to be nothing more than the result of an overly active imagination), the last thing I need is to be continuously repeat the same dreadful happenings chapter after chapter.
Actually, the absolute last thing I would need to happen is my good friend Rachel Pierre, who won't be introduced in this edition of my three-part story, to have a premonition of me being trampled by a crowd of escaped zoo animals as I head to my publisher to release the finished version of To Start from Scratch, leaving my devastated fans without a proper ending to such a woeful trilogy and my devastated husband without a proper wife, since men are rarely ever in a happy marriage with dead, trampled-by-escaped-zoo-animals women. Many authors, though, as well as doctors, lawyers, teachers, and plumbers will exaggerate a statement to emphasize its importance.
So, if you find yourself experiencing an extreme case of memory loss, it is recommended that, rather than continue reading this hopelessly complicated story without a sense of what's going on, you should quickly skim over the chapter before this prior to reading a new one. It is inadvisable for you to rely on me to repeat information you might've missed, because I can only say I have long blonde hair and bright blue eyes so many times before I am bored out of my wits.
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Edward Elric took in my long blonde hair and bright blue eyes slowly, as if he were just now noticing I was a girl. "Brother, maybe the Colonel should…" the armored guy—I forget his name—trailed off.
"Fine." He grumbled, "We'll quickly take her to Mustang, like I suggested originally, and find out what Envy wants with a little girl."
"Little girl?" I echoed before I could stop myself, frowning, "That's rich, coming from a twelve-year-old like you." I stood up from the dirty alleyway ground and brushed myself off, gingerly touching my cut from dear Envy. I guess Elric was about to have another one of his spasm screaming fits, so I cringed to prepare, but his big armored brother whose name I just could not remember quickly said, "Actually, he's fifteen, and I'm fourteen!"
At first, I didn't let the surprise of the high-pitched boy's age despite his massive form show on my face, but then I figured it would probably look strange to be so calm at this, so I widened my eyes and said, "Wow, really?"
This was how my first meeting with the Elric brothers, as well as the entire time I pretended to be someone I wasn't, went. I considered my every word before speaking, watched my steps, and was as careful as possible. I wish I could say that after Edward Elric found out about my secret, things would be different, but to say this would be a terrible lie. That was how Edward and my relationship would always be: secrets and lies.
Back to the alleyway. It was becoming very annoying that I could not remember armor-boy's name. He nodded uncomfortably at my 'awed' question, his armor clinking loudly with his every move. "How old are you, Nem?"
I, as usual, flinched at the detested nickname, hoping I would get to kill the fifteen-year-old midget and never have to hear it again. At the same time, I was making a mental note: Armor-kid is making diversions about his freakish size. Find out why. I planned to do this around the time I found out what his name was again.
"Er, what?" I asked, feeling stupid because I couldn't remember what he had asked me. Unlike you, I didn't have the luxury of looking up at the last paragraph.
"How old are you?" armor-boy repeated in his gentle voice, and I once again paused to consider. After weighing both sides, for this I decided to go with the truth. "Fifteen."
"Enough chitchat," said the apparently impatient alchemist, "Let's just get her to Mustang and call it a night, Al."
Al! That was his name. Now, what was it short for? Albert? Alfred? Neither of those sounded like badass full-armor-wearing-guy names.
"Then I guess we'll be staying in Central for the night, brother." Said the armor named Al. Elric sighed. "I guess so, Alphonse."
Alphonse!
"Come on, Nem," said Alphonse Elric kindly. You know what, let's just assume that everything he says is in a kind manner, so I don't have to keep repeating 'said kindly'.
I did the customary flinch at my new name. "We'll take you to Colonel Mustang." Alphonse explained, "And tell him you were attacked."
I nodded, and the three of us started walking toward the large official-looking building in the distance. "Then what?"
"After we find out what Envy's playing at," Edward took over, "We'll make the next move."
I nodded again, and then there was silence. In my gut, I had that horrible feeling that, no matter what, everything would end badly. It's a funny expression to use, 'gut instinct', because a gut is obviously not an appropriate advisor and shouldn't be listened to when making life decisions. However, as I look back at this part of my life, I only wish I had listened to my gut before things were too late.