Hello, everyone! Here we are again, back to stories submitted to me from readers like you! Tonight's special is from the true stories (more or less) or Jazzy Power Chair and Kyoko! Have fun with it and let me know what you think! (I've actually put author's notes in the text this time – go figure!)
I do not own FMA – and don't do drugs, m'kay?
I know this is off topic, but I had to say it… This was in response to a comment from a friend of mine after she read this chapter…
"The cracked-out adventures aren't all about sex! It's about what would happen if Ed did crack… it just so happens that a few people get raped each chapter, that's all…"
Roy and Riza's Cracked-Out Adventures 14 – Roy's Halloween Special!
"Edward Elric, sir!" Lieutenant Havoc shouted as he tried to catch up to the young state alchemist and his clan king armor-bodied brother.
"Yes?" Ed asked as he turned, stopping so that Havoc would have an easier time of catching up.
Havoc stopped in front of the Elric brothers, panting du to the physical exertion of running coupled with all of the tar in his lungs from smoking so many cigarettes. "The… Colonel… wants… to… see… you…" he wheezed.
Ed sighed. "Al, you stay with him, I'll be right back."
"Sure, Ed," Al replied before tending to the blue-faced Lieutenant.
Ed slowly made his way to the Colonel's office, grumbling. "Bastard colonel… what does he want now?" A few minutes later Ed knocked on the door to the Colonel's office.
"Come in," a gruff voice called out.
Ed walked into the office, slamming the door behind himself. He stood in front of the Colonel's desk. "What do you want?" he asked huffily.
Roy Mustang looked up at Edward with a slight grin. "Now, now, Edward, be nice! After all, you'll be thanking me after I tell you this next one!"
"What are you talking about?" Ed asked, narrowing his eyes at Roy.
The colonel gave another crafty grin. "As you know," he told Edward smoothly, "We'll be having some new alchemists here at Eastern Headquarters soon…"
Ed slowly began to grin, a wild look gleaming in his eyes.
Roy smiled. Edward had understood. "Good. Now that we're on the same page, I expect to see you at the Waterford Hotel in Central on Saturday night at 1700 hours."
"Thanks, Colonel," Edward said as he left the office. This would be good…
…
"Welcome, gentlemen," Roy Mustang said, beaming at the men assembled in front of him. "You are here because you are the best of the best – the greatest of the greatest – the alchemists worthy of a state title!" Everyone applauded. Roy waited patiently for them to quiet down, and then continued. "You are here tonight so that we may recognize your efforts, and to finalize your induction into the illustrious rank of the State Alchemists!" These words were met with even more wild cheering. Roy smiled. Those men wouldn't be cheering for long…
…
A few minutes later, the new alchemists were indeed not laughing. They had food in their hair, feathers sticking out of their pants, and stage makeup on their faces. What was supposed to be an induction ceremony was actually a twisted rite of initiation. The new alchemists were now being led around the hotel lobby (crowded with visitors to Central, of course) and instructed to make various animal noises while hopping up and down and spinning in circles, all the while being blind-folded. The only reason that the new recruits knew that they were being paraded through the lobby was the roars of laughter and clapping coming from the other guests. No one had uniforms on, so all the guests just assumed that it was some kind of weird, cracked-out secret society. Secret society, no. Cracked-out? Well, just maybe…
…
Troy Sedgewick sighed as he carefully sat down on the bed in his hotel room. He winced. Just a while ago he had been christened "The Impenetrable Alchemist;" yet even his alchemical defenses couldn't protect him from what the Crimson Alchemist, Zolf J. Kimbley, had in mind for him. Troy shuddered at the memory of the very cool, very menacing, alchemist. He winced again as he gingerly massaged his aching rump.
"bang!"
Troy jumped to his feet. "What was that?"
"Bang!" the sound was growing louder, and it was headed towards… Troy's room?
"BANG!" the door crashed open and Troy screamed. Several people, alchemists and civilians alike, ran to the room to see what all the noise was about. But to their horror, no one was there – all that was in the room was a red, sticky substance – something that looked strangely like blood…
…
Roy Mustang stood with Majors Kimbley and Armstrong, their backs to the newly inducted alchemists lined up behind them at attention. Roy smirked. All of the civilians had been evacuated from the hotel – all was going according to plan…
…
Alphonse Elric, in the break room at Central Headquarters, was panicking. He had just heard a news report over the radio – the fancy hotel that Ed was at was being attacked – by ghosts! A/N – gotta love Al! XD He paced back and forth across the room until he had made up his mind. A few seconds later the room was empty, and the streets of Central were filled with the sounds of clanking armor.
…
"Bam!" one of the new state alchemists, Lloyd Greenwood, "The Green Thumb Alchemist," kicked open the door to the kitchen of the evacuated hotel, gun at the ready. He looked around. No one was there…
"GIANT PICKLE!" a voice screeched. Lloyd quickly turned around, but it was too late – he was being pelted with giant pickles and couldn't see – or do – a thing. As quickly as it started, the barrage stopped. Lloyd, bruised, soggy, and slightly stinky, blinked and looked around, trying to find his attacker while drawing a transmutation circle on the wall next to him. H would catch this person – or thing – no matter what!
"BANANA PUDDING!" the voice shouted again, swiftly followed by globs of banana pudding, sailing through the room.
"Gaaaaah!" Lloyd shouted as he ran furiously towards the exit, smacking into all manner of furnishings and equipment.
"AHAHAHAAAAA!" the sounds of crazed laughter pealed throughout the room. A pair of wild eyes glowed from above. Lloyd panicked, the Cheshire-cat-like grin chilling his blood. In his haste to leave he tripped over a mixer, sending pots and pans flying; the gun clattered to the floor and went off with a resounding "BANG!" followed by a sharp "zing!" There was a howl of rage and a scream, and then all was quiet.
…
Roy ran up the steps, frantically taking them two at a time. Something was wrong – he wasn't supposed to have heard a gunshot – the men weren't even supposed to have guns! "They're supposed to be fighting ghosts, for crying out loud!" Roy shouted, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. "Who the hell shoots a ghost?" He burst into the room – the gun lay on the floor, abandoned next to the pile of upturned pots – a single bullet embedded a few feet away in the concrete floor, sticking at an odd angle. Roy breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, at least it just ricocheted off of his auto-mail." Roy began to leave the room, looking around himself one last time before deciding to throw in the towel – as fun as this was, Roy knew that it was becoming too risky and far too dangerous. He resignedly walked back down the stairs, disappointed and depressed about having to end it before the night was even part way through. He closed his eyes and leaned in the doorway to the ballroom, heaving a big sigh. When he opened his eyes again he almost screamed – no one was there – where there was once enough people for an army, there was now only pools of that red, sticky substance that looked a lot like blood.
…
Alphonse ran into the hotel, ignoring the shouts of the guards and reporters outside the door. He looked around quickly, completely ignoring the opulence of the dining room, the grandeur of the entryway, and the destructive signs of alchemical warfare. He only saw one thing – Colonel Mustang, sitting slumped outside a doorway on his hands an knees, white as a sheet. "Colonel!" Al shouted, running towards him. Roy didn't move. "Colonel, what's happened? What's going – Wha?" Alphonse gasped, skidding to a stop in the doorway. "What's going on, Colonel" Please, tell me! Is my brother alright?" Al asked frantically, turning and searching Roy's pale face for the answers he so desperately wanted.
Roy slowly shook his head, eyes wide and unblinking. "It was all supposed to be a big joke," he said weakly, giving a small, limp shrug. "But then…"
"Then what?" Alphonse shouted, resisting the urge to jerk Mustang to his feet. "What happened?"
"… he snapped…"
Alphonse's arms went loosely to his side. He slowly straightened up and looked forlornly at the large red letters covering the opposite wall.
"WE LOVE-A DE BONG!" was scrawled along the gold, textured surface of the wall with that red, sticky substance that looked strangely like blood, small pickles peppering the room all the way around, and all Roy and Al could do was stare.
…
Loose, giddy laughter echoed throughout a great, smoke-shrouded room 20 feet below the hotel. Hazy gold eyes surrounded by halos of pink glowed in the darkness, and then there was an eruption of noise.
…
Alphonse and Roy raced down the stairs to the basement, the sounds of their running footsteps coupled with the echoing screams and howls from below them reverberating through their entire beings – it was enough to make anyone's blood run cold through their veins. Nonetheless, Al and Roy pressed on, the cool, drafty air from the basement blasting them in the face as they reached the end of the stairs – the sounds reached a frenzied pitch. Roy hung back for a moment. Alphonse noticed this and, giving a tinny shudder, pushed past the Colonel and gripped the handle to the door. As he opened it a piercing shriek rang out. Al stood stock still for a moment, then, steeling his nerve A/N: haha! Armor pun!, barreled through the door and into the darkened room. Roy gulped and looked around – no one was there. He spun around and ran through the open doorway after the giant suit of armor…
"BANGGGG!"
"Gaaah! Alphonse!" Roy shouted as he held up a hand to his bloody nose, a sizeable bump appearing on his forehead.
Al turned around, groping blindly in the dark. "Colonel? I'm sorry, sir! Where are you?" he asked concernedly.
"Down here…" Mustang told him in a muffled, nasally voice.
Alphonse slowly crouched down and reached a hand out, finding Roy's arm. "I'm sorry, Colonel – are you hurt?" Roy groaned in reply. Al sighed. "I'm really sorry, sir," he implored quietly, "it's just that it was so dark, and I couldn't see where I was going…"
Roy thought a moment. Suddenly a light-bulb came on in his mind. Roy smacked his forehead at his own stupidity – something that he proved a second time by howling in pain, his forehead throbbing already after having run into Al.
Alphonse leaned in to closer to peer into Roy's tear-streamed face. "Oh, Colonel! You have a huge bump on your forehead! Are you sure you're ok?"
Roy gritted his teeth. "Yes, yes, I'm fine – let's just get going before the state sends the military police in."
Al stood and nodded. "Right!"
Roy got up and, one hand to his bloodied nose, lifted his other hand – now gloved – before snapping his fingers. A small, flickering flame lit up the dark room. Al and Roy both gasped – the red, sticky substance that looked an awful lot like blood was everywhere – the floors, the wall, the ceiling – guns were scattered on the ground, and broken jars of pickles were littered throughout. Roy and Al moved slowly and cautiously through the room to the other side. There was another door, and all of the noises that they had been hearing seemed to be coming from the other side. Roy and Al stopped and stared at the door, then at each other. They gave each other a firm, solemn nod – they were ready. Roy tightly gripped the cold, wet handle and turned it – the metal creaked. Roy swiftly pushed the door open, and the noise reached a full roar.
…
"Alright, I need three units to go in – red squad, you follow up with Alpha division, blue squad, I need to…"
A group of men, dressed in white, quietly watched the goings-on of the military police from a short distance. The light from the street lamps cut through the darkness, illuminating the men and casing an eerie light on the bifocals the wore, causing them to appear like there was fire within their eyes – small smiles covered their faces, adding to their sinister appearance.
…
Inside the hotel there was dead silence – no one moved and no one breathed – mostly because there was non one there. Only one sign of life presented itself – the dim, spine-chilling screams that were still coming from one of the abandoned storage rooms deep in the hotel's basement.
…
"BANG!" the door to the first abandoned basement room was suddenly and forcefully knocked open. Entire divisions of military police, armed to the teeth with weapons, body armor, and gas masks, surged through. As they reached the other end of the shambled room the lead MP raised a silent hand – the men grew deathly quiet, eyes trained in apprehension to the door ahead. The noises and screams could still be audibly heard over the squawks of the men's radios. They took a collective breath as the squad commander lifted his gun and proceeded to kick the final door down…
…
Several minutes later the sinister men in white coats were leading the alchemists towards large white vans which would take them all far, far away to a happy, special place called the Central City Drug Rehabilitation Clinic. The MPs grumbled and argued as they left the hotel, gas masks in hand – they were all upset that they hadn't been invited to the pot party, too…
Hahaha! So, what did you think? I'm serious, I've become so overly jaded to my work – this doesn't really seem all that funny to me… Hmm… what do you all think? And boy, was I stupid! I updated that other cracked-out story, not realizing that it was #13 – I should've waited and made this one #13! Oh, well – keep on reading, guys, and keep on sending me in stories! I hope to be doing at least one update a month now, if not more (until I catch up w/ everything I want to do, that is!) Please review! I always love hearing from you! See you soon!
Oh, and… Bwahahahaaa! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!