Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ FMA: A Fool's Paradise ❯ 27 February 1914 ( Prologue )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Prologue
27 February 1914
Neat and efficient, that is what they were - whoever "they" were. A white blanket already lay across the dead corps.
"They did a number on that one."
Colonel Mustang withheld his concerns and merely glanced at Major Hughes.
"To think they'd find a dead body all the way up there." Hughes let out a long, low whistle. "Not surprised though. They seem to like 'high' places." He chuckled at his own joke.
Mustang remained silent. Crowded speculations were coursing through his mind.
"Hey, Roy, don't look like that," said Hughes, catching the sour look on Mustang's face. "There's time to look miserable after the press hears about this - Oh look...They're here already..."
Through the rumpus of military officers and investigators walked a woman, notepad in hand, stopping every few persons to ask a question. Other reporters were on the sidelines, unable to pass the guard but still inquiring about the resent tragic event and its connections.
The lady flitted about but stopped suddenly when she caught sight of Mustang and Hughes. She immediately started toward them.
"How annoying," Hughes sighed, scratching the back of his head. "How'd she even get over here?"
The square was a mess. Shoes clicked wildly on the cobblestone walk. Noise was everywhere. The wind was cold and bit the skin. Only a fountain, at the center of mayhem, was peacefully undisturbed. Icy water rolled off the stone angels, reflecting moonlight and lamplight off its smooth surface.
"It's enchanting," said a woman. She stared down from her perch far above the crowds of military officers and hotel guests.
"We should have left a bigger mess for them to clean up." A man pushed himself away from the stone wall he was leaning on and joined his companion at the edge of the building. "It would've been more entertaining." He played idly with a rose, twisting it back and forth, observing the scarlet petals.
"For you maybe, but I like the clean cut effect. Besides, they said we couldn't do anything else." She shifted in the shadows to peer at him.
"Of course, I had forgotten." He lifted a hand and placed it on his forehead in mock recognition. "We should pay them a visit, you and I." His hand dropped and he played with the rose again.
"They wouldn't like that." The woman shivered against the cold.
"Perhaps we should pay him a visit then?" the man asked. He used the rose to gesture at the black haired colonel fifty feet below them. "He might need a little push to get going after all."
"In time," said the woman and pulled the rose from his hand with delicate, pale fingers. "Everything will fall in time."
A soldier standing by the wall in the square jumped. At what, he didn't know. He turned to find the source of his fright. A rose lay on the stone, lit by the eerie yellow of street lamps, a blood red stain in the snow.
27 February 1914
Neat and efficient, that is what they were - whoever "they" were. A white blanket already lay across the dead corps.
"They did a number on that one."
Colonel Mustang withheld his concerns and merely glanced at Major Hughes.
"To think they'd find a dead body all the way up there." Hughes let out a long, low whistle. "Not surprised though. They seem to like 'high' places." He chuckled at his own joke.
Mustang remained silent. Crowded speculations were coursing through his mind.
"Hey, Roy, don't look like that," said Hughes, catching the sour look on Mustang's face. "There's time to look miserable after the press hears about this - Oh look...They're here already..."
Through the rumpus of military officers and investigators walked a woman, notepad in hand, stopping every few persons to ask a question. Other reporters were on the sidelines, unable to pass the guard but still inquiring about the resent tragic event and its connections.
The lady flitted about but stopped suddenly when she caught sight of Mustang and Hughes. She immediately started toward them.
"How annoying," Hughes sighed, scratching the back of his head. "How'd she even get over here?"
The square was a mess. Shoes clicked wildly on the cobblestone walk. Noise was everywhere. The wind was cold and bit the skin. Only a fountain, at the center of mayhem, was peacefully undisturbed. Icy water rolled off the stone angels, reflecting moonlight and lamplight off its smooth surface.
"It's enchanting," said a woman. She stared down from her perch far above the crowds of military officers and hotel guests.
"We should have left a bigger mess for them to clean up." A man pushed himself away from the stone wall he was leaning on and joined his companion at the edge of the building. "It would've been more entertaining." He played idly with a rose, twisting it back and forth, observing the scarlet petals.
"For you maybe, but I like the clean cut effect. Besides, they said we couldn't do anything else." She shifted in the shadows to peer at him.
"Of course, I had forgotten." He lifted a hand and placed it on his forehead in mock recognition. "We should pay them a visit, you and I." His hand dropped and he played with the rose again.
"They wouldn't like that." The woman shivered against the cold.
"Perhaps we should pay him a visit then?" the man asked. He used the rose to gesture at the black haired colonel fifty feet below them. "He might need a little push to get going after all."
"In time," said the woman and pulled the rose from his hand with delicate, pale fingers. "Everything will fall in time."
A soldier standing by the wall in the square jumped. At what, he didn't know. He turned to find the source of his fright. A rose lay on the stone, lit by the eerie yellow of street lamps, a blood red stain in the snow.