Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Descent ❯ Catching the Fish ( Chapter 42 )

 

 

Descent

 

Chapter Forty-Two

 

Catching the Fish

 

 

Ed yawned widely and pulled open the door to Central Headquarters. He never came to work this early, and it was only the desire to get there before everyone else that had caused him to do such thing. He'd made a bad start of filling in for Roy last week, and he wanted to try improving the other officers' image of him a little. That meant he needed to be a little more responsible—or at least try to be.

 

When he reached Roy's office—not his office, he was just filling in—Ed opened the door and walked into the room. Looking around, he thought that it seemed strange to see the place at this time of day. The sun, barely up now, was peaking in through the windows, making the desk, couches, and cabinets cast long shadows.

 

With a deep breath, Ed walked in and shut the door before moving to plop down on one of the couches. His eyes rested on the desk and he simply stared at it, letting his mind imagine Roy sitting there and giving him a smug grin.

 

Ed sighed and shook his head. He had things to do and he couldn't allow himself to wallow in self-pity. Standing up, he moved over to the cabinets and began to flip through files. The other officers would be here in a few hours and he wanted to have some idea of what was going to be expected of him. It had dawned on him yesterday that he really had no idea what it was that Roy actually did. The closest he'd come to knowing was when Roy had bribed him into signing reports with him, and Ed had a feeling that randomly signing documents without reading them wasn't in the job description.

 

So he searched the files, read some of the documents, and tried to be interested in copies of requests for various things, and mundane reports about building upkeep, financial statements, warehouse requisition forms, and such. He was determined to do as good of a job filling this position as Roy did; if not better, since Roy didn't really seem to care too much about his desk job.

 

After about an hour and a half, Ed decided he'd find out what Roy had been doing the day he'd been shot. It would probably be a good starting place since, most likely, he'd need to finish any work that hadn't been done that day. Surprisingly, however, there was no unfinished work. Everything that had needed to be done up to that day was complete—in fact, Roy had been a little ahead in his work when he was shot...

 

Two and a half hours after he'd gotten there, Lieutenant Hawkeye walked into the office. It surprised him and he jumped a little. No one had to be there for another half hour. Apparently, she'd been surprised as well because when she saw him, she stopped mid-stride for a moment, then made her way over to where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the cabinets.

 

“Good morning,” she said, looking down at him.

 

“Mornin',” Ed replied as he began picking up folders. “You're early.”

 

“I'm always here at this time,” she said, taking some of the folders and starting to put them away. “I like to get here while it's still peaceful. It also gives me a chance to have everything together that I need to give the colonel when he comes in.”

 

Ed stuffed the last of the folders in the cabinet, shut the drawer, then turned to give her a wide grin. “Basically, you like getting here early so you can have a stack of work to drop on him.”

 

“I want to be sure he has enough time to get everything done,” she said cryptically, but a hint of laughter was threaded in her tone.

 

“You're sadistic sometimes, you know that?” Ed said with a smirk. She seemed to be in much better spirits than last week, and for that, Ed was grateful. It's harder to mope when you have no one to mope with.

 

Hawkeye walked over to one of the couches and leaned against it. She studied him for a moment, then asked, “How long have you been here?”

 

“Not long,” Ed lied. “Just thought I'd come in a bit early and see what Roy was up to before...” He trailed off for a second, then said, “Just wanted to see where I needed to pick up.”

 

She didn't say anything for a moment, then said simply, “Colonel Mustang.”

 

He blinked. “What?”

 

“Colonel Mustang, or just Mustang, Ed... You called him `Roy'. I think you should watch what you say; especially where it's possible other military personnel might be able to hear.” She was right, of course, and Ed mentally berated himself. “Also, be careful of your actions. Think before you act, and try not to do anything that seems out of the ordinary.”

 

“Think before I act? Asking a little much, aren't you?” he said with a good humor he didn't feel. When she didn't say anything, Ed said more soberly, “You're right. I'm sorry. Thanks for the advice.”

 

She nodded curtly as if that was the right answer, then pushed herself away from the couch. “Well, since you're already here, let me explain your new job. I'll be right back.” Hawkeye left, and was gone only a moment before she came back in with a couple of folders. “Have a seat,” she said, motioning toward Roy's desk.

 

Ed frowned and eyed the chair. He'd sat in Roy's chair before, but this time was different. This time he was sitting in it as if he were Roy... Ed tried to convince himself that this wasn't permanent; this was only temporary... he was only filling in... He moved over to the leather chair, took a deep breath, and settled himself down into it. Despite the fact that he'd been growing in the past few months, the chair was obviously crafted with someone larger in mind and for a moment it irked him, but he let it go just as quickly and turned his attention to Hawkeye.

 

“Now,” she began, “you're in charge of...”

 

Ed listened closely as she explained what departments he dealt most closely with; who he should expect request forms from; what he had to read and sign; forms, letters, and requests General Hakuro would expect him to go over; what he had to report to Hakuro and when. She also covered meetings he needed to have with the general, as well as meetings he was supposed to have individually with his subordinates. He already knew about the weekly meetings he had with Roy's close staff as a group, so that was no surprise.

 

Near the end, Ed's head was spinning. He'd had no idea Roy did all of that, he'd simply thought the man sat there most of the day signing forms and being lazy when he didn't have anything going on.

 

Hawkeye smiled at him. “Don't worry. I'll be here to remind you of things.”

 

“Thanks,” Ed said with a small laugh. “Did I look worried?”

 

“Terrified,” she said with a smile of her own.

 

He opened his mouth to say something when the door to the office opened. Breda and Falman were walking in, and Breda was carrying a cake. They stopped when they saw them, and Breda said, “Hey, I didn't know you were in already. Gracia Hughes dropped this off. If I would have known you were here, I would have had her come and give it to you herself.”

 

Breda placed the cake on the desk, and Ed looked down at it to see that a fourth of it was missing. Crumbs dotted the tray and a used knife sat to one side while a small stack of napkins and plastic forks sat on the other side. Ed glanced up and frowned.

 

“Where's the rest of it?” he asked, though he was sure he already knew.

 

“Falman and I had some of it. You know, be sure it wasn't poisoned or anything. Can't be too careful,” Breda said with a grin.

 

“Hey,” another voice said from the doorway, “I ran into Gracia outside and she said there was ca—oh, mornin', chief,” Havoc said as he walked toward the desk. Ed grunted, then scowled when Havoc picked up the knife and cut himself a slice of the cake before picking it up with one hand and taking a bite.

 

“That happens to be my cake,” Ed said, irritable that no one was bothering to ask him if they could have any.

 

Havoc nodded, swallowed, then said, “And it's very good cake too. Thanks for having a birthday. Gracia doesn't make cake for any of us.” A small chorus of `happy birthdays' sounded from the other officers.

 

“What does that make you now?” Breda asked, cutting another slice and this time setting it on a napkin and moving it in front of Ed with a fork. Breda eyed him up and down, then said, “Fourteen? Fifteen?”

 

“Fuck you,” Ed growled, then picked up the fork and pointed it at the man. “I'm eighteen now.” Breda laughed as Ed roughly cut a piece of the cake and ate it. Ed knew he should be used to the teasing, but he still didn't like it, and it was hard not to react to it. He swallowed then looked at Hawkeye who had politely not joined the others in helping herself to the cake. “You can have a slice,” he offered.

 

Hawkeye shook her head. “I'll pass for now, but if there's any left later, I'll take you up on it.” She turned and started toward the door. “Right now I have some things I need to get for you, so be sure to be done with what's in those folders when I come back.”

 

“Hawkeye,” Breda said quickly. “We're takin' the birthday boy out for lunch today. You in?” When she nodded, Breda turned to Ed and said, “Don't eat too much of that cake. There's lots of food coming up later.”

 

“You don't have to—” Ed began, but was cut off by Falman.

 

“You haven't actually worked here at headquarters long enough to know, but we always do lunch for birthdays.”

 

“Ah...” Ed said. If they wanted to feed him, he wasn't about to say no. They wished him a happy birthday again, then headed out of the office. He sat there staring first at the door, then at the cake. Usually he and Al spent their birthdays together doing... well, something... The point was that it was usually the two of them, but today there Al wasn't here. Today it was just him...

 

He glanced at the phone and wondered if he should try calling Al again. He missed him and wanted to apologize... He just wanted everything to be okay again. Ed finished the slice of cake, then pushed the napkin aside and rested his forehead on the desk. In a perfect world it would be Roy sitting in this chair rather than him, and he and Al would be doing something fun for his birthday. Maybe he'd do something... special... with Roy later when it was dark and...

 

But it wasn't a perfect world. Roy wasn't here, and Al was in Rizembool... Ed lifted his head and pulled the folders close to him, before opening the one on top and staring down at the papers. He didn't want to wallow in self pity. Ed was sure Roy was alive—though he wouldn't allow himself to get too excited until he had hard proof—and hopefully he'd be able to reconcile with Al soon... He just needed to get the courage to make that phone call...

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

The phone rang once, then again, before a pleasant female voice said, “Hughes residence, Gracia speaking.”

 

Al smiled. “Mrs. Hughes; it's Alphonse Elric.”

 

“Oh! Alphonse!” came the excited reply. “It's been so long. How are you?”

 

He shifted in his chair, and said, “Good, good. And yourself?”

 

“The same as always.” He could hear her waving off his inquiry in favor of her own questions. “How are you feeling? How is Winry?”

 

Al's smile turned a little sad. She didn't ask how Ed was, so she must know he wasn't there. She'd been on his list of people to call in Central, but he'd stopped after Colonel Mustang... If he would have kept calling, maybe he would have learned more... Al shook his head. That was the past and there was nothing he could do about it now.

 

“I'm feeling great and Winry is... well...” He laughed. “She's very excited.” He paused, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist asking why, and when she did, Al said, “We're engaged to be married.”

 

“How wonderful!” she exclaimed.

 

“Of course, you're invited,” Al said, thinking of their invitation list. So many invitations to send out... Who knew planning for a wedding was so involving...

 

“I'd better be!” she puffed.

 

Al shifted the receiver to his other ear, then said, changing the subject, “I thought I'd call and wish Elysia a happy birthday.”

 

“You're so sweet,” Gracia said. “She's actually at the neighbor's house while I set up for the party.”

 

“That's alright; I'll just try to call back later.”

 

“I'm sure she'll love to hear from you. Why don't you call your brother instead, or have you already called him?”

 

Ah, so she didn't know about what had happened between them...

 

“Actually, I haven't called yet. I'm not sure where would be the best place to get a hold of him.” Not, `I don't know where he is'. No, Al didn't see a point in going into the details if he didn't need to, and it wasn't as if he was lying to her. His statement had been completely true, though he knew she wouldn't take it for all it truly meant.

 

“I'll bet he's at work right now,” she said easily.

 

Al frowned. Was Ed still with the military, or had he quit and gotten another job? “So you think I should call headquarters?” he asked, trying to pry for information.

 

“That's what I just said. You have Colonel Mustang's office number, right? You should be able to reach your brother easily.”

 

“Yeah, I have it...” he said, thinking about the last time he'd called the colonel's office. Would Colonel Mustang lie to him again?

 

“Thank you for calling, Alphonse. I have to go now to get this place ready for the party.”

 

“Of course,” Al murmured. They said their goodbyes and he hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. Resting his head on the table, Al tried to decide what to do. If he got Colonel Mustang on the phone, should he demand to talk to Ed? Should he tell the man that he knew he'd lied? What if Ed didn't want to talk to him?

 

`What ifs' filled his mind and he shut his eyes tightly to try and make them go away. He'd call. He would call and he'd demand to talk to Ed. He groaned a little, thinking of how that conversation might go.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

He lifted his head and saw Winry walking into the room. She looked as if she was ready to go out, and then it hit him that she was going to go out. She went down to take a look at that truck every week—the one that worked only half the time and the other half it was parked near the Rockbell home so that Winry could fix it—and the man lived near the main part of Rizembool.

 

Al frowned. He wanted to tell her to stay here or to let him go with her, but since the fight they'd had, he'd decided to not bother her about it as much. She was probably right about it being more dangerous having him being with her than not...

 

Winry walked over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What's wrong?” she repeated.

 

He smiled, not wanting to burden her with his problems. “Nothing that seeing the face of a beautiful angel couldn't cure,” he said, and laughed when she grimaced at the comment. He knew she didn't approve of him calling her an angel. Too `sappy' she said, and she definitely didn't think she fit in the `angel' category.

 

“Well, if you're not going to tell me, then I'm going to take off,” she said, looking a little disgruntled.

 

Before she could turn around, Al grabbed her hand and brought it up to his lips. He let his lips linger on her skin for a long moment, then looked up at her and said softly, “Please be careful...”

 

Her face softened and she said, “I will. You worry too much.” He squeezed her hand once, then let it go before she could accuse him of anything. She kissed the top of his head, walked over toward the door, then let herself out of the house.

 

He stared at the phone for a moment, then got up and headed toward the kitchen. It was almost noon and he decided that he wanted lunch. The only problem was that he wasn't very hungry. He was too nervous about the next phone call he'd be making.

 

Al cut a slice of bread, buttered it, and slathered jam on it. He ate slowly as he thought about what he'd say and how he'd convince the colonel to tell him the truth. When he returned to the phone, he hadn't decided on anything definite, and so he sat there and stared at the phone, trying to gather the courage to make the call.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed scribbled what was supposed to be his signature at the bottom of the report, then groaned and let his head drop to the desk with a `thunk'. He'd been reading and signing requests and reports all morning, though he'd been interrupted here and there by a phone call from this or that person wanting Ed to approve or verify. Hawkeye had also been by twice to remind him that he needed to head over to the logistics building sometime to verify something Mustang had approved a few weeks ago.

 

He turned his head and stared at the filing cabinets. This was the most boring job he'd ever done... Ed could see why Roy would have taken it though. It kept him up to date on almost everything that was going on in Central when it came to the everyday affairs of the military, and he could also keep in contact with some higher ranking officers as well because he had to report parts of his job to specific higher ranking officers.

 

Even though he could understand it, Ed still thought it was dreadfully dull. The every day workings of the military definitely wasn't anything to get excited over.

 

Suddenly the door slammed open and Ed heard, “Okay, birthday boy, time for some grub!” Ed lifted his head and the paper he'd been laying on stuck to his cheek for a moment before falling gently back down to the desk. Breda was standing in the doorway with Falman behind him. “Well?” the man said impatiently. “What are you waiting for? I'm starving.”

 

“You just want to see your girlfriend,” Ed heard Havoc say from somewhere in the hall.

 

“Shut it,” Breda growled. “At least I have a girlfriend.”

 

Ed quickly got out of his chair and was starting toward the door when he heard, “Asshole,” muttered from Havoc.

 

“How's your first real day goin'?” Breda asked him.

 

Ed grunted. “I thought there was no way I could want Mustang back more than I did.”

 

Breda pressed his lips for a moment, then said in a quietly serious tone, “We're working on it.” Ed nodded, then Breda said more boisterously, “Alright! We just need Hawkeye and we'll be ready to take off!”

 

Ed was shutting the door when the phone rang. He paused, wondering if he should go answer it, but Havoc grabbed his arm and began pulling him away from the office. “If it's important, they'll call back.”

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Envy shrugged his shoulders as he walked along the road. He'd taken this current form for many reasons, and it suited him well enough for the time being. Of course, he'd needed to switch forms while he'd been among the soldiers, but that had also served a purpose, and he was sure the soldiers would be where he wanted them today.

 

He smiled to himself in eager anticipation. If all went well, then he'd be out of Rizembool by tonight or tomorrow with that man's son in tow. Just the thought of that man caused him to scowl darkly. That man's flesh and blood shouldn't be allowed to live, but as much as he wanted to shred them both to pieces, Envy knew that this was better.

 

Yes, better to use them towards the end goal. At least the younger one wasn't as annoying—disgustingly naïve, but not annoying, and he could deal with that. He smiled again. For now, at least he could deal with it.

 

He looked up and saw the Rockbell home off in the distance—perhaps a fifteen minute or so walk—and much closer was the girl—Winry. Envy's grin grew. She was right on schedule. He'd be glad to get this over with. His first choice would have been to take on Alphonse's form and do some serious fucking around with both her mind and body, but...

 

But...

 

But, that would most likely give him away, and he wanted Alphonse's full cooperation. It had to be that way.

 

Winry saw him now, and at the displeased look on her face, Envy smiled even more broadly. He even waved his hand and gave her a cheerful greeting, but she walked past him without a word. He smirked. She hated him; it was so obvious, but he didn't care. In fact, it made this all that much more pleasant.

 

When he got to the Rockbell home about fifteen minutes later, Envy schooled his facial features to something more distressed, then maneuvered the stairs to the porch easily, opened the door, and let himself inside.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Al sighed as the phone rang for the twentieth time, then hung up. He should have known no one would be there at this time of the day. Getting a hold of someone at Central Headquarters during lunch was almost impossible, though Lieutenant Hawkeye was often around during this time even if the colonel wasn't.

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Al decided that he'd call later. Right now he wanted to work on his array a bit more. Reaching into his pocket, Al pulled out his gloves, slipped them on, then examined them thoughtfully. The more he worked on the array, the more he was convinced that not only would he not be able to modify it for anything other than transferring his soul, but that he was probably the only one who would be able to use this array.

 

It would make sense really. His soul had been detached from his body for so long. The only way to find out if the array worked for someone else would be to have them try it, but neither Winry nor Pinako were alchemists, and though Russell did know some alchemy, that wasn't his strong point and Al wasn't sure if he'd be able to work something this complicated.

 

As if the mere thought of the other teen had conjured him, the door opened and Russell walked in. “You're back,” Al said, getting up. He was about to ask how his trip had gone, when he got a better look at Russell's face. Frowning, he said, “What's wrong?”

 

“Soldiers...” Russell said seriously. Al's frown deepened. Soldiers were just what they didn't need, though the thought suddenly occurred to him that perhaps if Russell had run into some soldiers while he was away, he'd be more open to leaving and going to Central with Al.

 

“What happened?” Al asked.

 

“Where's Winry?” Russell asked quickly, looking around.

 

“She just left to go pick up a few things...” Al said slowly and when Russell's face took on a stricken look, Al's heart seemed to drop into his stomach. “Why...?” he whispered unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

 

“I heard some soldiers talking about being ordered to wait on the road for `some blonde mechanic girl' and when they got her...” Russell trailed off and looked away.

 

“And when they got her, what?” Al asked quickly, his voice rising in panic. The whole world seemed to be spinning around him and it was hard to get his breath. His palms were sweating in nervous apprehension and it seemed to take years for Russell to turn his head and look at him. Fear and despair were plastered on his face in a way that made Al want to vomit. He took in a deep breath, then pushed Russell aside and ran out of the house. He could vaguely hear Russell yelling that he was coming too, but it didn't register in his brain.

 

He had to get to Winry; had to find her before those solders did. Damn the military. Damn Archer and Kimblee! He was sure this was their doing. If only Winry had listened to him! Just the thought of any harm coming to her made him increase his pace. She hadn't left too long ago. He should be able to make it in time...

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Winry's step faltered when she saw the five rough-looking soldiers in the road, but pressed her lips together and continued walking. They had nothing to do with her. Soldiers were a common sight in Rizembool now, and they were probably just slacking off. She heard them snickering, and she tried to avoid looking at them. Just walk normally. She wouldn't let their mere presence intimidate her.

 

“Hey, girly,” one of the men said in a leering tone. She ignored him and quickened her step. She felt one of the soldiers grab her arm and suddenly she was turned toward them. “I don't like being ignored,” the soldier hissed.

 

He tightened his grip on her arm, making her wince. “Let go of me!” she demanded.

 

The soldier, a tall man with curly black hair, laughed loudly. “What do think, boys? Should I let her go?”

 

The others laughed, and one said with a dirty sneer, “Not before we get to know her a little bit.”

 

Gritting her teeth, Winry used one of the self-defense moves Al had taught her and was able to free herself. She turned and ran as fast as she could but after only a few moments she was pushed roughly to the ground. She instantly felt hot, stinging pain at her elbows and knees, as well as a dull ache in her hip where she'd landed on a large rock. She could feel pain in her cheek and on her chin; and as she breathed dirt, got into her nose and mouth. She thrashed, trying to free herself, but the man on top of her was too strong.

 

“Well, well...” the dark-haired soldier said. His boots entered her line of vision before he crouched down far enough so that she could see his face. “You really are a wild thing, aren't you?” He reached over and touched her cheek. She jerked her head, trying to get away from his touch, but hands were holding her tightly and she couldn't move.

 

He moved his finger to her lips, pushed it inside of her mouth, and licked his lips with a lecherous grin—at least, until Winry bit him. With a curse, the man pulled back and inspected his finger before glaring fiercely at her.

 

“Let's get this bitch into position. She needs to learn her place,” he growled while looking at her. The man on top of her pulled her back and she fought to get free; the other soldiers moved in to help keep her from getting away.

 

“HELP!” she screamed loudly. “SOMEBODY! HELP!” If she was lucky then someone would be nearby, but there was only a fifty percent chance of that. She opened her mouth to scream again, but one of the men put a hand over her mouth so that what did come out was muffled.

 

“Open her legs,” the black-haired man said roughly, and as much as she tried to fight it, her legs were pried open at her knees. She screamed again, and could feel warm saliva inching between the man's hand and the skin below her mouth. She thrashed, and through sheer luck was able to free one of her legs long enough to kick the black-haired man in the face.

 

“YOU CUNT!” he roared. She saw his face for only a moment—long enough to see blood gushing from his nose—before he drove a fist down into her stomach. All of the breath left her and her vision went dark as she was filled with pain. Hot tears ran unbidden down her face as she gasped desperately for breath.

 

She felt hands grab at her pants, but the next moment she heard, “GET AWAY FROM HER!” shouted from somewhere behind her.

 

“You can have her when we're done, little boy. Now get the hell out of here,” one of the soldiers called back.

 

Alphonse... she cried, though it was only mentally. Her vision was only beginning to come back, but she could tell that the black-haired man was standing. His mouth opened to say something, but whatever it was that he was going to say was replaced by a shout as the ground beneath him rose up and knocked him over. In the next moment, the ground around her fell a little and the men holding her let go in favor of scrambling for purchase.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

After drawing the arrays in the dirt and getting the men away from Winry, Al rushed forward and began fighting with the closest soldier. Hot fury filled him at seeing his beloved treated in such a manner. He couldn't remember ever feeling such intense rage.

 

The first soldier went down easily, but the second was much more skilled in hand-to-hand combat. The other two soldiers were trying to surround him, but he kept moving to keep them from it. Suddenly Russell was at his side, fighting off the soldiers with a long pipe.

 

“Al!” was shouted over the commotion and he looked to see the first man—the one with black, curly hair—trying to get at Winry. Red filled his vision for a moment, and for a second he couldn't concentrate. That was the man who had tried to rape her. Primal fury drove his thoughts and actions. That man... he deserved to die... Rushing forward, Al threw away all caution and morals, moved quickly within the man's guard, pressed his gloved hands against the man's face, and activated the arrays.

 

The world around him seemed to darken as he was in two places at once. The soldier in front of him screamed and pushed roughly away and held his head as he paced on the road. Al could see it all so clearly, but it was muffled and flat. He could also see things from the man's point of view, which made the scream even louder than it would have been.

 

He was inside the soldier's mind. He tried to concentrate on what was happening, but the world around his view was mixing in a confusion of colors, sights, and sounds, then for a moment he could only see out of the soldier's eyes before he was surrounded by a dark place...

 

The world seemed to shift around him, but it wasn't the world... Scenes from this man's life quickly passed by him, and thoughts rang in his ears. He stood and saw the man in front of him. The man saw him and shouted at him to go away, that he didn't belong here—and he was right. Al didn't belong here, yet he was here, and he was here because this man had tried to hurt Winry...

 

With strength born of anger and cold rage, Al began walking toward the man. “Get out!” the man shouted again, and Al could see that the man was debating on whether he should run or try to fight. Finally, the man decided on fighting and a long sword appeared in his hand. “I'll kill you!” the man shouted as he rushed forward.

 

Al evaded the attack easily, and knocked him down with a swift kick. He might not be able to make things appear out of thin air—he didn't belong here—but he knew how to fight. As the man scrambled to get back up, Al moved over ands slowly picked up the sword. It felt so real and heavy in his hand, but was it?

 

When the man saw that he'd taken the weapon, he fell back on his rear and looked up at Al in undisguised terror. Al wondered if he should feel something for this man, maybe compassion or understanding, but he didn't. He felt nothing for him, and didn't want to either. He wouldn't allow this man to ever hurt anyone like he'd tried to hurt Winry. Not ever again. Right now he felt he was in the right, he was justice, and he would be the one to deliver judgment because no one else would. Right now he felt powerful. Right now... he felt like a god.

 

“Good-bye...” Al said to the man in a voice that almost seemed too hollow and unfeeling to be his own, then thrust the sword into the man's chest. The man's mouth opened wide as he tried to breathe in and blood flowed from his mouth. Hands reached up to grab the blade as if he could still save himself, but he couldn't, and the light went out in the man's eyes.

 

The shifting and the thoughts around Al ceased and there was silence and a cold, empty whiteness. Everything was gone. The room remained, but there was nothing; and then, as quickly as he'd come to this place, he was gone and all that remained was darkness.

 

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Why, hello thar plot…

 

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