He'd been arrogant. Unforgivably so. He'd never thought that something like this would stop him. How incredibly stupid of him.
He'd assumed that everything would work out because he had a name, a plan, and a dedicated team. His information was from a reliable witness. His plans were infallible. His team was the best of the best. Brute strength, strategy, knowledge, alchemy; everything you could possibly need to successfully complete any mission was at his fingertips. But none of it could change this simple fact.
Edison Curtis was dead. He'd been dead for over a decade. The garbled tale was recorded sloppily, hastily written by some slack-jawed private who thought he could submit sub-par work just because they had been in the middle of a war. And somehow, the bloody idiot had slid by, letting a botched report pass inspection to sit for years in a dusty box on a creaky shelf, only to prove completely useless when it was needed.
He'd run through the report over and over again, trying to squeeze even a drop more of precious information from the pages. But he still couldn't come up with anything. Names of passengers, the day the accident took place, the location, the suspected cause, and the ruling that everyone on the train had been blown to pieces, tragic casualties of sabotage gone terribly wrong- or so terribly right. It could be said that the most important pieces of information were there, but the details. The details were nonexistent. And they were everything to him.
He needed contacts, addresses, anything that could lead him to a suspect. But of course there was no record of the process to notify family members. That would be too much work. It was superfluous information that couldn't possibly matter and was much too difficult to write down.
How had the country, the community, reacted to the tragedy? Had the military brushed the whole thing off as just another Ishvallan attack or was it something...more? Had it been properly investigated? Obviously not. But had the family members blamed the military for not protecting their loved ones? And if they had, was Edward's disappearance a simple act of revenge? But if it was, why had they waited so long? And why Edward? He couldn't have been older than three. He had nothing to do with any of it. The only connection at all was that the accident had happened on the outskirts of his hometown.
If Roy ever found the low-life scum who'd dared to write such a pathetic excuse for a report, he'd roast him alive until even his bones turned to ash.
But there was nothing he could do about it now. He could only wait and hope that by some stroke of luck there was someone still in Central who had known Edison Curtis. Someone familiar enough with him to give information on his family and closest friends.
Roy sighed heavily and glanced at the clock on his desk before swearing and jumping to his feet. The room tilted alarmingly, but he forced himself on, thrusting his arms through coat sleeves and hurrying out of his office with a grimace on his face. He barked out an excuse for his abrupt exit and stormed down the hallway, walking faster than usual in an effort to keep his feet solidly underneath him. He was going to be late.
He threw open the outside door, slamming it shut behind him and descending the stairs as fast as he dared. He slid down the street, boots skating across crusted ice, arms spread wide to aid his balance, dodging obstacles with abrupt shifts of his footing and the occasional leap aside, wind pelting ice crystals against exposed skin. He was careful to control his speed, limiting his movements and shifts to maintain the highest speed possible without sacrificing too much of his awareness. Even so, the helter-skelter descent was nerve-wracking, his heart flying somewhere in his throat. He quick-stepped to the right, catching a frosted pole and swinging himself into a side street.
The ice here was rougher, the street pitted and steeply sloped. The sudden change sent his arms flailing and legs churning desperately to keep himself upright. He fell backwards heavily and continued to slide, feet scrabbling for purchase against the ice. Abruptly, he was on his feet again, throwing himself forward, jerking his feet in front of him as fast as he could, scarcely touching the ground before leaping forward again, his momentum too great to be stopped. But he was running out of pavement and the bricked wall was getting much too close for comfort.
He threw himself into a roll, arms flying up to cradle his head and legs pulled tight against his chest. He hit the wall hard, breath expelled harshly from his lungs, back throbbing from the heavy impact. He gasped for air, already pushing himself upright and staggering down the deserted alley.
He had five more minutes to navigate the labyrinthine city before the clock would strike two. It would take him at least another fifteen to get to his destination in current conditions. He swore softly to himself, panting as he turned down yet another side street. He hated to admit it, but even with another slapdash shortcut, he'd never make it on time.
The wind picked up, bare branches swaying forlornly in the breeze, somber clouds creeping across a graying sky. The temperature dropped steadily, prompting Roy to gather his coat closer around himself. A flash of yellow and pale blue drew his gaze further down the road.
A slender girl was walking down the road with difficulty. She was leaning heavily against the wall, arm shielding her face from the biting wind, legs tangling in the flapping fabric of her gown between lurching steps, pale blonde hair lashing behind her. An empty sleeve and the glint of a metal leg accounted for her decidedly unsteady movements.
Roy sighed. It was a pity to see someone so young with automail. He briefly contemplated offering his help, but soon abandoned the notion. In his experience, those citizens that seemed the most fragile to outsiders were often much stronger than they were given credit for- particularly when the person in question was female. The very presence of her automail was proof enough of this fact. Such an invasive operation was not something the weak could complete. He found himself silently cheering the little blonde on as she turned the corner into another alley, following the wall wherever it took her. He hoped that one day she would be able to use her limb as well as Edward.
He smiled grimly and quickened his pace, ignoring the dull aches pulsing in back and skull. Edward was waiting.
Not soon enough, he was shouldering his way into the crowded bar. The barkeep spotted him and made a show of grousing about his latest customer.
"No room. No' a table free in th' building."
Roy smirked.
"Surely you can find something, Otto. I don't mind sharing."
Otto snarled, his thick mustache enhancing the effect and gestured for the smaller man to follow him. He weaved through the crowd, deftly avoiding tray-toting barmaids and boisterous customers with agility ill-fitting a man of his girth. They came to a stop beside a booth in the far corner of the room where an irate young woman sat nursing a steaming mug of black sludge.
"Nessie, you mind sharin' a table wi' this bastard?"
Her mouth curled into scathing smile and she very nearly purred with satisfaction.
"I don't mind at all, Otto. Now would you be a dear and fetch my new friend here a drink?"
He grunted an affirmative and stomped away, leaving the two to their own devices.
No sooner had Roy sat down than Vanessa was leaning half-way across the table, fist balled into the fabric of his uniform. She pulled him forward and brought her lips against his ear, hissing her extreme displeasure.
"Who do you think you're dealing with? You think you're untouchable just because you're a Mustang? What are you getting yourself into Roy? You better have a good explanation for all this, or you're going to be very, very dead."
"Keep your temper in check. The other customers are starting to notice."
She growled, but released him and reluctantly settled back into the bench. Roy straightened his uniform, calculating eyes tracing her livid visage.
"I take it that you found something out about our Mr Curtis."
She flew forward, palm smacking the tabletop, lips parting in a feral grin.
"You don't have any idea. You really don't know who he is. Listen up, bastard. Edison Curtis was my brother. Got that, Roy-boy? And in case that still doesn't mean anything to you, the Curtis family name just happens to be taboo in Central. After all, crime lords don't exactly like being reminded of their old bosses. Even if they are all dead. Got it? So unless you've got a death wish, I suggest you walk away. Now."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned back into her seat.
"And why is that?"
"They've got one of my boys. And I want him back."
She was silent for a moment more. She sighed.
"Fine. But I want in."
"I don't think-"
"If someone's using my family name, I wanna know who the bastard is. Besides, I've got connections and information you wouldn't even dream of. You need me."
It was Roy's turn to sit in silence, turning her words over slowly in his head. If she was right- if Edward's kidnapping had some connection to the crime lords- they were all in some serious trouble.
"Tell me everything you know."
Though they were eager to exchange information, both agreed that it was too risky in their current surroundings- even if Otto was watching for overly inquisitive guests. So they used their never-fail fallback plan: the drunken military hookup.
It wasn't long before he'd charmed her into sighing sweet nothings in his ear. Naturally, such a young gentleman could only repay her with a line of soft kisses trailing up her arm. And when she practically fell into his lap, hands edging towards more sensitive places, the noble military man was forced to escort the genteel lady home. For her own safety, of course.
And if whispers were actually well-worded insults, kisses an excuse to lick a sibling who hated such things, and straying hands stealthy attempts at revenge, the illusion was convincing enough to give birth to another rumour about the womanizing colonel- while his quick phone call requesting a few soldiers to return to the office and cover for him due to an unexpected guest only inspired even more insistent tales of scandalous after-hour activities involving the entire office.
But the new couple ignored the escalating whispers. Instead they staggered outside, leaning heavily against one another, tumbling into snowdrifts and slipping inside empty doorways, making their clumsy way down the street until they were safely away from lecherous eyes. There they adopted a more traditional stance; Roy's arm draped casually across her shoulders, lingering just above her breasts, Vanessa's wrapped tightly around his waist, her head nestled against his chest.
Their progress through the streets was slow, restricted by their embrace, but it allowed them to have a lengthy conversation in quiet tones.
"So. Your brother."
"Mm. Half-brother, technically. Our father was one of the old crime lords. His wife was assassinated soon after Edison was born. The other bosses thought he was getting soft. They thought that if they murdered his wife he would break down and start mismanaging his district- allowing them to take over another section of the city. Instead they just pissed him off. He made an example of two or three of them. Beat them to death while his son watched. Told him 'This is what happens when someone screws around with me. This is what happens when they try to take what's not theirs. Those mothers try it again and I'll kill 'em all.'"
"How touching."
"Mmhmm. Soon after that he started messing around with some of the prostitutes- including my mother. They all took drugs of course. No one wanted a parasite leaching off them. They tended to discourage their customers. So everything went on as normal. Father molded his baby boy into the next crime lord, had sex with everything that moved, and contended with the other bosses to take over as much of the city as possible-at least until my mother found religion."
"A religious prostitute?"
"I never understood it either. Somehow she got it into her head that giving her body to as many men as possible was her duty in life. She called it 'sharing life.' And then she decided that the drugs she was taking was killing the result of her 'worship'. So she stopped taking them. A few months later she got herself pregnant. When Father found out she hadn't been taking her drugs, he had her beaten until she lost the parasite. A week or two later he had an idea- a change of heart, so to speak. He decided to start breeding the prostitutes. After all, once they were pregnant they could be ridden as often and as hard as he wanted. Any girls would grow up to be more breeders, but the boys he could turn into loyal subordinates. And since my mother was the one who'd inspired the idea, he gave her the privilege of being the only breeder he would indulge in.
"A few years later there were a bunch of us brats running around. Us girls got to watch our mothers at work every night while the boys got on-the-job training as scouts, pick-pockets, and decoys. Not many of them were left by the end of their training. They'd die off before our mothers could replace them. And the constant pregnancies were taking its toll on them. My mother was the first to get sick, but the rest soon followed. Father's plan was falling apart.
"He didn't have the income from the prostitutes to rely on anymore, and the military was beginning to crack down on everyone. Things were getting tight. Father decided it was time for Edison to step up and prove himself.
"Eddie was very good at what he did. Soon he had contacts in each of the major syndicates. He charmed their daughters, killed their sons, gave attention to wives left neglected. He wore a different name and face wherever he went. He was untraceable, and the families themselves trusted him completely. It was like he was ten different people at once.
"He had them all right where he wanted them. No one knew who had managed to infiltrate their operations- or how they had done it. The rival organizations began to fall apart from the inside out. And with no one left to oppose them, Father became the undisputed King of Central and Brother the Ace.
"Now that the entire city was under their control, Father allowed Edison to do as he wished. He chose to continue living the charade. He had a different lover every day of the week, and the families were all too eager to pass on any information they heard. His execution was flawless. All the benefits and none of the attachments- just like Father had taught him.
"Honestly, I learned a lot from him. Don't look at me like that. It's just...business. You can't afford to get attached in our line of work. Things get messy when emotions are involved. You know that."
"I know. But I don't have to like it. When I'm Fuehrer, you'll never have to think like that again. I'll change things. My friends- my family will always be safe."
"My stupid little brother...I don't think I'll ever really understand you. Stupid, sweet, naive baby brother. I wish we could all be more like you."
"...I think the world would be a much darker place if they were."
"Perhaps. But it'd be a special kind of dark. A good kind of dark, I think."
"And I think that makes you crazy. But a special kind of crazy. Maybe even a good kind of crazy."
"It runs in the family."
"So it does."
They were silent for a moment, frozen in the silent streets until the first flakes of snow whirled through the air.
"We should go. Havoc and Riza are probably waiting for us."
She smiled at him halfheartedly and allowed herself to be pulled along.
"I still haven't told you the part you really wanted to hear."
"I must admit, I'm curious. What happened?"
"The same thing that happened to everyone. The war."
"The-?"
"Yes. It happened a few months before you joined the military, actually. Father arranged a weapon deal with the Ishvalans. It was the usual trade-off. Guns and ammo for a few women and a couple thousand cenz. Father usually handled the trade-offs himself, but he was getting older. So he decided to bring Edison along. I remember watching them get on the train together, and I remember one of Eddie's lovers saying goodbye to him just before the train left the station.
"No one knows exactly what happened after that, but something went wrong. Maybe one of the bombs they were transporting wasn't stable. Maybe the merchandise was discovered by one of the conductors. I don't know. But just on the outskirts of Resembool, the entire train went up in flames.
"When the former crime lords heard of the accident- and that Eddie had been playing them all along- there was a scramble for the 'throne.' During the fight, the family I had left was wiped out. Mother managed to pass me off as the daughter of one of the other prostitutes, but all my sisters were branded traitors and killed. Mother was the last to go. They knew she couldn't run- she was still the weakest of the older generation. So they made her watch them kill her children. By the end of it all, she was begging them to kill her too. They were happy to oblige. And that was the end of the Curtis family."
"And so we've come full circle. But tell me something. If everyone knows that Edison Curtis is dead- and he is, I have the official records back at my office- why would someone use his name to kidnap a member of the military? It doesn't sound like anyone regretted his death, and even if they did, my officer didn't have anything to do with that particular case."
"I don't know. Honestly, I can't think of anyone stupid enough to do something like this."
"That's just it. Based on the intelligence we've collected, they're not stupid. It was a well executed job. No, they're not stupid. Obsessed, maybe. But not stupid."
"Obsessed...That changes a few things. Do you have a description of the suspects? Maybe a sketch or two?"
"We have a few."
"This is important, Roy. Is one of the sketches of a woman?"
"She's our main suspect. Why? Do you know who she is? Do you know where she is?"
Vanessa swore and twisted out of Roy's tight hold. She took his hand and pulled him into a clumsy jog.
"If your suspect is who I think it is, your man may be in big trouble. Hurry! This could be worse than I thought."
They hurtled through the streets, sliding on ice, scrambling around corners, dodging heaps of frozen refuse and the few other pedestrians out. Rounding the last corner, Roy spotted Major Armstrong discussing something with one of his subordinates at the bottom of the stairs.
"Major, stop that woman! Don't let her get away!"
The major looked surprised for the briefest of moments before he reacted in the typical Armstrong manner. In seconds, bulging muscles hid the slight woman from view while the gargantuan man announced that it was his pleasure as a member of the Armstrong family to apprehend criminals.
Roy stumbled to a stop, hands braced on knees as he fought to regain his breath.
"Thank you for your assistance, Major. I would appreciate it if you could also escort her to Interrogation Room Two. My men and I should be along shortly."
"Consider it done, sir. Forgive me, but...would this have anything to do with the investigation I assisted you with earlier this week?"
"I'm afraid so. The case has grown quite serious."
The major's face hardened, his grip tightening enough to make his captive squeak.
"I see. Then I shall deliver her immediately."
Armstrong snapped a quick salute, already making his way up the slippery slope, toting his faintly protesting burden with little effort. Roy sighed deeply and, knuckling the bridge of his nose, shot an exhausted glance to the major's remaining subordinate.
"You're Ross, correct?"
The woman startled, her face coloring as she stammered an affirmative.
"One of my men, Second Lieutenant Breda, is currently working with the Investigations Department. I need you to give him a message."
"Yes, sir!"
"Tell him to drop everything and report to my office in no less than ten minutes. There's been a break in the 'Elle' case. Get moving, soldier!"
She scrambled away, leaving him alone by the stairs, forcing puzzle pieces to snap together, spinning twisted fragments into an ugly tale, seamless and grim. He shook himself out of his reverie and retreated to his office. Nothing was absolute. Vanessa hadn't identified their suspect yet. There was a chance, however small, that they were all over-reacting. That Edward had already freed himself and was making his way to headquarters to gloat about his exceptional capabilities. There was always that chance. Despite all odds, every probable situation, Edward could be fine. It had happened before. It could happen again. Anything was possible.
He rounded a corner and met with Breda. He nodded jerkily and motioned him to continue walking with him. They entered the office, coming face to face with the rest of the team. Fuery dutifully manning the switchboard, Falman still going through reports one by one, Havoc and Hawkeye waiting at their desks in tense anticipation. Roy rapped out an order and spun away, marching towards Interrogation Room Two, more focused on the looming confrontation than hiding the gravity of the situation from his subordinates. His Lieutenants followed behind, silently exchanging hard looks and fumbling armfuls of paper.
Roy waved away the guard stationed at the door and burst into the room. He snapped impatiently, holding a glove-less hand out for the files he needed. He snatched away the pictures and slammed them onto the metal table, never once looking away from Vanessa's solemn face as she took in each careful sketch.
"Well?"
"I'm sorry, Roy. It's her. Your man is as good as dead."