CENTRAL
The armored car belched smoke, and rolled down the street. Marching soldiers flanked it to either side, rifles at the ready, and behind it a procession of smaller vehicles picked their way down the road.
The people pointed and watched it go, some hoisting their children up for a better look. Among them was a black-haired man in a dress coat and glasses, who had elected to spend his lunch hour taking his daughter to get ice cream. He saluted, shifting his strawberry cone to his other hand, as beside him a three year-old squealed.
“Daddy, daddy! Is it a parade?”
“No Elicia, it’s a military convoy.” Lt. Colonel Hughes said, dropping the salute and rubbing her head fondly.
“No candy?”
“No, no candy.”
“Aw…”
“Well, maybe if you finish your ice cream, we’ll see about picking up some candy before we go back to mommy…”
“YAY!” Elicia tore into her mint-chocolate-chip in a storm of flying green mush.
The convoy wound its way to the train station, where the armored car parked near to a special, enameled and gold-inlaid train car. Reporters pressed and jostled as the soldiers held them back, and flashbulbs fired as a one-eyed man in dress blues strode out of the car, and onto the train. He waved for a moment at the press and spared them a mustached grin, and they cheered their Fuehrer as he disappeared into the depths of the luxury train car. He was followed by a woman and a child, and the reporters happily took pictures of the Fuehrer and his family. Down the train from the armored car, other officers and soldiers started finding their own accomadations on the vast, forty-car train.
…And no one was on the other side of the train to see Fuehrer Bradley emerge from a door opposite the one he’d come in. He fell into step alongside a waiting set of guards. They marched along through the twists of the trainyard, as the Fuehrer tucked on a hat and pulled the brim down over his distinctive features, as he led them into the sidestreets beyond the trainyard.
The guard in front was tall, muscled beyond belief, and bald save for a lock of golden hair, and a matching mustache. His name was Major Armstrong, and he was a state alchemist.
And he did not like this at all.
“Sir, I must protest. This is one of the areas that the alchemist killer has hit before, he could be watching us at this very moment. And with so small a guard…”
“Relax, Major.” Fuehrer Bradley laughed, smiling as always. “Right now, all eyes are upon the group going to Eastern. Why, the Fuehrer’s going there too, as we just saw! No, the killer won’t pass up a chance like this, which is why our little misdirection will work. And in the meantime, this gives me freedom to act on another matter.”
“Another matter, sir?”
“Yes, actually. A matter of sin and redemption… Wait.”
The group halted, outside a run-down warehouse. “Did you see that, Major?”
“See what, sir?”
“Movement inside the doorway. Someone ducked away from us as we passed. The rest of you guard out here and secure the exits. Major, you’re with me!”
Fuehrer Bradley drew his saber, and dashed toward the door. With an expression of alarm on his face, Major Armstrong raced ahead of him, smashing the door open with a mighty fist. “Sir, I must protest!” “Skip it, Major!”
There was no one in the antechamber of the warehouse, and dust covered all. “Come on, Major! This way!” The Fuehrer sped toward the staircase, and took the stairs two at a time. Caught off guard, Armstrong followed as best he could, the stairs creaking under his weight.
“Sir, you’re exposing yourself to far too much danger! How are we supposed to guard you if-“
The Major rounded a corner, and desperately skidded to a halt. The Fuehrer was nowhere to be seen.
Major Armstrong looked around the burned out upper level of the warehouse. “Sir? Sir?” He called, pacing through the rooms, looking for his commander. He may as well have been looking for a ghost.
There was a creak behind him, and a clatter. He whipped around, to find a fallen bit of rubble skittering along the floor, and just as he started to look up…
There was a whoosh of air behind him, and a blade held to his throat, as an arm reached around and clasped him in a half-nelson hold. He felt a body pressing against his own, and a mustache tickled the side of his scalp as its owner whispered in his ear.
“You may as well stop pretending.”
Major Armstrong’s lips pursed, then curled into a sneer. “All right.” His voice was hard, and had a mocking tone to it. “Move the blade, I’d hate to waste a regeneration.”
The blade withdrew and energy flickered around the Major, as his form twisted and fell in on itself. Soon enough, Envy shook out his spiky green hair, and turned to look behind him.
The Fuehrer had his eyepatch flipped up, and was busy sheathing his sword. He looked down at Envy with an expressionless face, its normal smile nowhere to be seen.
“Hello, Pride. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Hello, Envy. Where is the real Major Armstrong?”
“Oh, he got orders this morning to do a secret patrol around the outskirts of Central. Should keep him busy for the rest of the day.”
“Good. I have a use for him. Now, is there anything you’d like to say to me?” The Ouroborous symbol on his eye glistened in the light, as Pride studied the slight homonculus before him.
Envy shrugged. “I don’t think so. If you have a problem with my orders, you can take it up with Dante…”
“Nice try, but I know about Dante.”
Envy’s eyes narrowed. “Do you, now? And what is it that you know.”
“I know that Lust killed her.”
“She says differently.”
“She would, wouldn’t she?”
Envy smirked. “Even so, what does it matter to me if she did?”
“Oh, it’s not what she did, but what she plans to do. What did she offer you, to recruit you?”
Envy shrugged, a smile playing across his lips. “That’s between me and her.”
“It was humanity, wasn’t it? That same thing she’s always chased after, even when it’s hurt the rest of us. Even when it’s gone against our progress.”
Envy’s smile thinned. Pride continued.
“But my eye is keen, and I’ve watched you carefully. You don’t care so much about it, do you? It’s not the same overwhelming goal with you that it is with Lust. No, your goals were different. And they still are, aren’t they?”
Envy’s lips peeled back from his teeth, and he growled in his androgynous voice. “Don’t pretend to know me.”
“All right. But, I have to continue. She sent you to keep an eye on me, didn’t she? To alert her to any last-minute surprises, just before the second part of her plan kicked off.”
Envy didn’t say a word, but Pride’s eye caught the minute shifts in his stance and body temperature. “Oh yes, I know about that, too. It won’t work, I assure you that.”
Envy grinned, all teeth. “So, what are you saying? Shall we throw down, right here?”
“Oh, I have a much better idea. How would you like power?”
Envy shrugged. “There’s power, and there’s power.”
“Right now, I control the military. I decide the fate of this nation. I control the only means of producing red stones on a large-scale. I am loved in every part of this country. I have over thirty alchemists under my command. Me.”
“If there are any among us who can help you achieve your goals, it is I. Not Lust. Certainly not Gluttony. Throw in your lot with the winning side, and I promise you, your gesture will NOT be forgotten.”
Envy tilted his head back, and paced around the room, never taking one eye off of Pride. Pride sat his foot up on a ruined chair, crossed his arms across his knee, and watched Envy consider.
Finally, Envy stopped. “And Sloth?”
“Will do as I ask her to.”
“You make a convincing case. If I were to accept, what would you ask of me? Lust’s head on a platter?”
“Nothing like that. I merely require that you go back to her when the time comes. Report that all is well, and I am indeed in Eastern. Simply say nothing about my presence here. And when the time comes, simply stand aside. We’ll take matters from there.”
Envy’s smile grew. “And let things take their course. I have to admit, it would be entertaining to see her get what she deserves.”
“Then, you’re with me?”
Envy grinned a wicked grin. “For now.”
Pride nodded. “Good. And you shall reap the benefits of your wise choice, soon enough. Come then, let’s leave, Major.”
There was a SNAP of energy, and the big man once again looked down on his King. “Yes sir!”
SIX HOURS LATER
It had been a long day for Major Armstrong, and he was heading in to finish his report. The latest camp had been concealing no contraband, and there were no signs of rebels, Ishbalan or otherwise among the poor of the junkyard.
As soon as the big man strolled up to the guard post, the lieutenant at the desk handed him a telegram. “Orders for you, sir,” she said. He raised one golden eyebrow, and took the folded sheet of paper, scanning it carefully. “I see. Who else has seen this?”
“Just the telegraph operator, and myself.” Said Lt. Maria Ross. “We’re aware of its nature, and have maintained secrecy, as instructed.”
Lt. Armstrong nodded. “Good. Come on then, you’re with me. We need to assemble three squads, and we need to do it quickly and quietly.”
“Yes sir!”
FOUR HOURS LATER: THE SLUMS AROUND LABORATORY NUMBER 5
They came in groups of five. They approached silently, using the buildings for cover and hiding in the shadows, as they’d been trained to do. Their gold-braided dress coats had been traded in for plain blue fatigues, that didn’t glisten or jingle in the night.
They came with guns, and they waited, waited for the signal to begin the assault. They were the best soldiers left in the capital, and they did not know why they had been called here. They only knew what they were expected to do.
Maes Hughes lowered his binoculars, as he heard a solid presence walk up the stairs behind him. He nodded as a bare-chested figure joined him in the empty apartment, overlooking the compound across the way. “Major Armstrong.”
“Colonel Hughes.” Armstrong adjusted his cestus on his fists, the spiked metal protecting and reinforcing his fingers.
“I don’t suppose you know why we’ve been called in to secure this place?”
“I wish that I did. I find this situation… odd.” Rumbled the Major.
“Odd isn’t the word. Did you know, this is a rented apartment, by a young couple who’ve never missed a payment?”
Armstrong looked around, at the complete and utter lack of furnishings, the layer of dust on the floor, and the general emptiness of the two-room suite. “I… would not have guessed that.”
“Neither would I, until I checked the records. But every room on this side of the building is empty. Every room that has a chance of overlooking that abandoned laboratory is rented. And everyone that rents a room on this side of things does not seem to exist.”
Major Armstrong shook his head, looking out the window. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know.” Hughes reached down to his side, and started to unpack a long, thin case. “I’m not even sure why I’ve been called in as support in a sniper’s capacity.” Hughes hefted a long-barreled rifle out of the case, checked the bolt, and chambered a round.
“My orders were to check on the pickets, and prevent anyone from leaving,” said Armstrong. “I’ve got ten men to help with that purpose… Less than I’d like. You were probably called in because most of our best combat troops are in Eastern now, guarding the Fuehrer.”
“Well, that’s what I want the enemy to think,” said a warm voice.
Hughes and Armstrong jumped, and turned around. A smiling, one-eyed man wearing a black tee-shirt, blue dress pants, and an elaborate harness leaned against the open door. Four saber-hilts protruded from sheaths on his back, two per side.
They saluted. “Si-sir! We didn’t expect you…” Stammered Armstrong.
Fuehrer Bradley chuckled. “That was the point of the exercise. A little sleight of hand, that’s all. Any activity?”
Hughes nodded. “Two minutes ago. Two unidentified personnel through the side-door, one tall and female, the other short, fat, and unidentified. Someone wearing antique armor let them inside the main building.”
“Good.” Their ruler smiled. “I’ll be leading the main assault.”
Armstrong started. “But sir! It’s nowhere near safe, at least take me with you…”
“I’ll have twenty good troops at my back, Major. No, I’ll need you out in the main yard for backup. Your orders are to disable that armored thing, and prevent anyone from escaping. You are not to entire the main building unless there is evident and overwhelming need to do so. Do you understand?”
Major Armstrong saluted. “Yes sir!”
“Good. Alright then, let’s go. Lieutenant Colonel, backup the Major as you can.”
Hughes saluted, sliding the bolt back on the rifle with his other hand. “Yes sir.” Still, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Something’s funny here.
The Fuehrer strode down the hall, and out of the building, Major Armstrong beside him. As they marched, men fell in behind them, in groups of five. Soon enough, they were thirty strong, as they moved to the main gate of Laboratory #5.
Fuehrer Bradley smiled.
“Major, if you would do the honors.”
“Sir!” With a mighty swing, Armstrong slammed his hands into the gate, and alchemical energy flared! The gate exploded inward in thousands of chunks of metal, raining upon the stones of the courtyard in a clashing symphony of destruction!
“GO!” Called the Fuehrer, and he surged forward, a sword filling each hand as he ran through the dust and debris! Behind him, twenty men followed, rifles at the ready. The Fuhrer seemed to know just where to go, and lead the way through the main door.
Armstrong stopped, as the screams began. He turned around to see a spray of red, as two of his squad crumpled. A hulking, metal-and-fur clad figure in a skull-shaped helm giggled, and twirled its cleavers. “Finally, some fresh meat!”
“You’ll pay for that, you monster!” Shouted one of the survivors.
The rest of the squad opened fire, bullets ringing off the man’s armor, and occasionally holing it as it rushed forward, bringing its knives down in a dance of death…
“STOP!”
The entire fight halted, as the armored figure and soldiers froze, staring back at Major Armstrong.
The bare-chested man flexed his arms, and muscle after muscle bunched under his skin, as he lowered himself into a fighting stance.
“I’m the one you’ll be fighting!” And he pointed a meaty finger at the armored man, calling him out.
The armored man laughed, a strangely hollow sound. “No! You’re the one I’ll be CHOPPING! HAHAHAHAHA!”
And the first of many explosions rocked Laboratory #5, as the two titans charged toward each other…