Gold and Charcoal

Gold and Charcoal
Chapter 17
Burning

They had electricity, but why waste money on it when you could instead use a candle with light much softer on the eyes? For lack of a better recipient, the small candle had been placed in a bowl, causing wax drops to periodically fall to decorate the upper half of the sheet Roy was drawing on. As long as the candle itself did not topple over and set fire to paper and wooden desk, Roy didn’t care.

“What are you doing?” questioned Hughes, leaning on his friend’s shoulder.

“Drawing arrays.”

“Arrays?”

Roy explained. “That’s what they call the circles they use in alchemy.”

“Oh, and what does that one do?”

“Fire.”

“So a circle and two triangles are all you need to make fire?” asked Hughes, vaguely disbelieving. “How does that work?”

Roy couldn’t help but launch in a long explanation. “ Air is about 21% oxygen, 78% nitrogen and 1% of various other gases. This array would allow an alchemist to easily separate the components. In this case, we’re concerned about parting the oxygen from the nitrogen. Nitrogen is non-flammable, while pure oxygen is highly flammable.”

Roy touched his drawing with the tip of his fingers while he pictured the process in his mind, explaining it to his friend as he went. “So, by separating the two, it is possible to create a bubble of oxygen and set it on fire, either with an external source of fire like a match or by creating a spark.”

The array seemed to be glowing in the warm candlelight and the sheet was warm under Roy’s fingers. “To activate such an array, you just need to touch it and focus on what you want to do. As long as you have a perfect grasp of what you’re doing and how it works, there shouldn’t be a problem. This is basic alchemy though, nothing complex.”

“That’s all very interesting,” said Hughes. “But can we do anything with that knowledge of yours or are you just developing an interest in drawing?”

Roy leaned back on his hind legs of his chair, only the fingers of his left hand still touching the desk. “We can’t do anything with this ‘knowledge of mine’ as you say. We’re not alchemists. It’s still interesting.”

“You’re too curious.”

“You’re too laid back.”

While the men were snipping, the candle finally slid out of the bowl and fell down toward the array drawn on paper. It didn’t even reach it when there was an explosion, a ball of fire forming right above the array and disappearing a second later. It left a burnt table and a howling mongrel clutching his hand on the floor.

“What did you just do?” Hughes hurried to snag the candle and blow it out before it could positively set the room on fire.

“I don’t know!” groaned Roy. “I need water, fuck it burns!”

The kitchen sink provided the cool water required to appease the pain. Roy sighed in a mix of relief and consternation. He attracted wounds, somehow. He was going to have hundreds of scars by the time he hit thirty-five. Girls liked scars, but not too many of them. He had to be more careful. Though he had no idea what had happened this time.

Hughes picked up Roy’s hand and turned on the light to examine the wound properly. “Doesn’t look bad. It mostly burned the side of your finger here.”

“Don’t touch it!”

Fury poked his head out of his bedroom. “Is there a problem?”

“Mustang found a way to burn himself.” Knowing Farman was right behind his lover, Hughes called, “Farman? You know a bit about wounds and the likes, right?”

“It’s nothing,” protested Roy, grumpily trying to recover his hand.

Farman emerged in nothing but loose pajama bottoms with fluffy clouds on them; it had to be a gift from Fury. He looked as serious as ever as he took a look at the injury. “It’s a first degree burn, only the top layer of skin has been harmed. Despite the pain, the wound isn’t extensive or dangerous. It will be healed in two or three days. Cool it with water and wrap in clean gauze.”

“Thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

Roy was silent while his best friend took care of his finger. What had that been exactly? There had been a ball of fire right above the array, but it didn’t make sense. He was a mongrel; he couldn’t do alchemy, could he?

“Is there anything that could explain how you might have been doing alchemy with your drawing?” questioned Hughes, reaching the same conclusion.

“It can’t be.” Roy shook his head then paused, reconsidering his words. “Unless…what did Gracia say? That some non-blondies were found to be able to learn alchemy before? I think she said it was because they had a blond parent. I don’t have a clue where I came from, I can’t say how likely of a possibility that is.”

“Remember she said that’s what they pretended,” corrected Hughes. “They didn’t have proof about it, did they?”

“Well, I don’t see what else could possibly…” Roy watched his hands suspiciously. “We should begin by confirming that I did it. It could just be a strange coincidence.”

“A coincidence where you were just like that playing with an array to make fire and fire appeared out of nowhere over your array? Nothing says you can do it again though. It might have been an anomaly.”

Roy shook his head. “Alchemy isn’t something you turn on and off. You can or you can’t. Of course you can also mess up if you are not very knowledgeable, but this is simple and I understand perfectly…”

Roy walked back to the room and the scorched desk. A new sheet of paper and some doodling later, Roy was ready to try and find out if yes or no he had caused the previous explosion. This time, he kept only the top of the candle, throwing away the rest. He lit the small ball of wax and placed it directly on the desk – it was already burnt anyway – over the new array.

“You’re really trying that trick again? Don’t set the place on fire.” Hughes wasn’t crazy; he remained at the door, away from the experiment.

“I won’t. I’m doing it on purpose this time.” Touch the array. Concentrate. Push away every gas but oxygen, gather it over the array. Just a little, no need to overdo it…

Hughes shifted his glasses on his nose but it didn’t change what he was seeing. “Either my glasses are giving me visions or the flame is growing.”

It was. Something was feeding the flame, tripling its size. Roy pushed a little more, just to make sure he was causing it. No doubt about it, the flame was burning gas; the gas Roy was feeding it. Roy took his hands away from the array and watched the flame slowly fade back to a mere flicker.

The man was silent for a minute, staring at the flame. “Hughes, I need books.”

“You mean, books on alchemy?”

“Yes. You remember, that girl you spoke to at the Chimera?”

“Sheska? Yeah.” Hughes was catching on. “She was saying she could find any book, even if they were illegal.”

“Paniya told me they work for Lyra, our Lyra.” Roy reached to exterminate the flame then glanced at his friend in the doorway. “Get some of your blackmail pictures, Hughes, we’re going to ask her to help out.”

Hughes nodded, not bothering to argue. “If there’s anyone who knows where to get illegal junk like that, it’s definitely her.”

-

It was Hawkeye as they had never seen her before. Her hair was beginning to escape her clip and she had not had a chance to change out of her sweaty black shirt. Worry loomed in her gaze and a hint of anxiety could be perceived in her usually stern voice. They were little things, mere details, but it was entirely wrong from Hawkeye.

Edward did not understand Hawkeye’s words right away, surprise by her untamed and unannounced appearance at his door. He repeated, “What do you mean, Winry is missing?”

“I mean what I said. She went out to see a client and never arrived at her destination. They called me to ask where she was. I already patrolled the area between our living quarters and where she was supposed to be and I didn’t find a trace of her. I’m worried. It isn’t like her to let a client wait.”

Hawkeye paused, slightly conflicted, but continued to spill, “This information is classified, but there seems to be two murderers. One who targets military, especially male alchemists, and a newer one who targets women, especially young ones. They first thought the horrifyingly dismembered girls had been killed in a similar way as the men, but further investigation has proved it isn’t alchemy.”

The woman finally seemed to notice her hair’s disarray, groping at her clip to take it away and free her hair. “I can’t alert anyone until she’s been missing for twelve hours, but it’s too long. It will be over by then. I have…a bad feeling,” she concluded.

The familiar weight that settled against his back informed Edward his brother was peeking over his shoulder. “You think she’s in the sort of trouble?” Alphonse didn’t try to argue with Hawkeye’s gut feeling. “Where was she?”

“She was heading east from our quarters,” answered Hawkeye.

Al nodded pensively. “Did you get Havoc and Armstrong? They’ll be glad to help too and then we’ll be enough to search the whole building. They can’t be far.”

“We’ll tackle the south and east,” decided Edward. “Send Armstrong one way alone and take the other with Havoc. You two aren’t alchemists, so you better stick together and watch each other’s back, just in case.“

Alphonse agreed to his brother’s words. “You two are military, it’s not the time to tempt the other murderer as well.”

Hawkeye shouldn’t have been expecting any less from them but she still looked relieved to be granted immediate assistance. “I will take care of things. Thank you.”

The boys barely remembered to close the door behind them, flying down the hall as fast as anybody possessing two legs to carry them could. The only hints at their flaws were the slight difference between the way their right and left foot sounded as they pounded the ground and the way their shoulders were not always even, the automail arms often inducing minor slouching when they ran, even after all these years.

Few people were outside at this hour, everybody fearing the mysterious murderer that still eluded capture. They didn’t know there were not one, but two murderers. Of course, Edward growled to himself, nobody had thought it important to inform him of this fact. Edward knew there weren’t any reason they should have been told about it – it wasn’t like they could have done much anyway - yet it irritated him to be taken by surprise like this. There was little that was a worse surprise than finding out your best friend was missing and probably in mortal danger.

“Winry is going to be okay, right?”

Edward grunted gloomily, “That depends on how fast we find her. She could just have been distracted though…”

Al made a worried sound, not buying Edward’s weak attempt to find another excuse to Winry’s disappearance, and increased his pace. Edward didn’t complain when he lost the lead to his younger brother - not at a time like this.

The boys reached a crossroad and separated without even consulting. They would cover the building faster separately, and one of them should be enough to neutralize one man. They didn’t have any fear for each other’s safety, only for Winry’s; she was a fantastic mechanic and wielded a mean wrench, but she was still vulnerable against a killer. It was too easy to distract her with shiny mechanics.

Edward turned again before reaching the restaurant; it was impossible for a murderer to carry out his crime in a highly frequented area. He would rather drag his prey in one of the many smaller corridors, where nobody would find the corpse before a few hours had passed and the killer had cleared the area and covered his traces. Another possibilities were the multiple gardens, since they provided a cover of vegetation to hide, but each of them was placed in order for passerby to enjoy it, so it might be too risky.

It was entirely unlikely the murderer had brought Winry anywhere else; the inner city was always buzzing with activity at every corner and they would have been seen, especially if the man was forcing Winry to come with him. The best place for a corpse was inside the building itself. There were enough dark corners for that.

This time though, there would be no corpse. There couldn’t be.

“Winry! Hey, Winry!”

Each time he met a crossroad, Edward picked the darker hallway, until he was in the middle of an old area currently deemed improper for housing and awaiting renovations. Yellow tape was stretched in the way to inform passerby they were not allowed past this point.

This had to be investigated, judged Edward, slipping under the tape. The only lights here were those from the windows, a light that was currently dimming with the fall of the sun. Yeah, this would be a nice place for a murder. Hopefully the bastard had thought the same…

“Winry! Where the hell are you? WINRY!” Edward listened carefully for any scurrying sound, any indication that he was on the right track.

“Help me!” It was weak, but he heard it perfectly.

Edward spun and jogged back a few feet to dash into s new hallway. “Winry?”

“Help!”

Edward turned another corner and a brown-haired woman staggered into his arms. “Hey, what happened?”

“He was right behind me!” The woman glanced back fearfully, but there was nothing to see. She turned to Edward again, head lowered in fear. “Do something! I think he’s going to kill the other girl!”

Edward fought to keep a hint of calm, eyes staring past the woman. Winry, where was Winry? “Where did you come from?”

“The third door, there… It’s deserted here, nobody could hear us!”

Edward had his first moment of lucidity in a long time. Instead of jumping ahead blindly, he decided to inform the backup he had found the target. Yelling wouldn’t carry far enough with the walls on the way so he clapped and crouched instead. Sure, he was probably going to damage the foundations of the building, but that wasn’t important. The important thing was to create a shock wave that would travel far enough to alert Alphonse and tell him in what direction to head to join him.

The ground had barely begun to shake under his palms when Edward was interrupted and silenced by something hard to the side of his head.

Al was relatively close, having accessed the same deserted area than his brother from the other side. He felt the ground move and was immediately reminded of the time Edward had fought – and lost to – Wrath. An alchemist must have provoked this minor earth shake as well. Was there another fight?

“Niisan?”

Alphonse dashed on through the dark hallways, trying to sort out the possibilities calmly. If Edward was fighting, who was his opponent? None of the hypothesis that came to Al’s mind was very encouraging but he definitely preferred a murderer to an homunculus.

“Niisan!”

Everything was dead quiet, even if Alphonse was positive he was in the vicinity of the spot from which the shock wave had originated. He couldn’t see any damage done to the walls or the floor either; it didn’t look like the scene of a battle. What was going on? It would have been too much of a coincidence for this earth shake to be real. Alphonse helplessly glanced up and down the dark corridor. Which way to go?

/ I’m not going to find him by running around! I’m an alchemist, I can do better than this! /

If those damn walls hadn’t been in the way! Edward could be right around a corner, unconscious, and he would miss him! So… He just needed to see through walls then. A clap, hands firmly pressed against the wall, concentration….

The structure resisted and Alphonse wondered if they hadn’t already altered the building with alchemy to try to prevent people from messing with it like this. Not that it could stop him, it would just wear him out faster. Alphonse frowned and tried harder, forcing the molecules to separate and merge back to his liking. The wall changed slowly, its opacity turning to transparency. The reaction went on and on, transforming wall after wall into a see-through matter.

Unfortunately, the reaction was already slowing down. Alphonse had to stop when his knees buckled; he wasn’t as used as Edward to use alchemy extensively. He cursed under his breath, copying words he always told his brother to stop saying, and squinted around, trying to see how far he had been able to transmute the walls. It was pretty much deserted. Nothing, old furniture, nothing, oh? There were objects far ahead, odd shapes hanging from the ceiling, behind a wall only half transformed. It looked like it was a used room-? Alphonse ran over a mental map of the building. That had to be around the kitchens. The cold room, perhaps?

Cold room? Wait. Nobody ever went in there aside from the butcher. The walls were thick and soundproof to preserve the cool temperature. What was it Hawkeye had said? The bodies had been horribly mutilated, like, butchered? Alphonse didn’t like the connections he saw.

Alphonse would have liked to go through the walls to save time, but destroying so many in a row would cause the building to collapse on itself, and that wouldn’t help much in the end. Instead, he ran to the nearest window and flung himself outside to cut through by the gardens. When he thought he was around the right area, he blasted through the wall; a hole or two wouldn’t make too much damage, he could fix it afterward.

The blond jumped inside, finding himself in a room full of long counters crowded with pots and instruments. He couldn’t be far from his goal, he thought. He moved on, tensing when he saw a large silhouette appear. Al blinked at the Ishvarith, momentarily confused; what was he doing here at this hour?

The scarred man seemed to wonder the same. “What are you doing?”

Alphonse almost laughed; the man sounded slightly sleepy. Of course he would be here, he slept somewhere near and the sound of a wall exploding was enough to wake up anybody.

The boy pleaded, “I’m looking for my brother. Where’s the cold room? The place where they hang the meat? Quick, it’s important!”

After giving Alphonse a look that seemed to wonder if he was sane, the man pointed to the right, indicating a large door. Alphonse ran to it to grab the handle and pull but the door didn’t move.

“Who makes doors this heavy?” Alphonse looked back, exasperated. He didn’t have time to fight with a stupid door! “Um, can you lend me a hand, please?” He could have sworn the man made a sound akin to a sigh, but he helped anyway, pulling the door open one handed. The boy made an effort to change his automail into a blade before squeezing inside. “Thanks!”

-

Hughes’ pictures were not necessary. Maybe Lyra knew they had them and she was simply making it easier for herself. Whatever the reason, she did not delay in informing them they could find Sheska near the market place, in a dusty bookstore that looked far more innocent than it actually was, given its connections to Lyra’s network.

Roy and Hughes found Sheska engrossed in a book and perched on a stool beside the counter. She did not twitch when they came in and nearly had a heart attack when Hughes plucked the book from her hands.

“Hello, Sheska.”

“I, uh, hi, um, Maes.” The girl replaced her glasses correctly on her nose. “May I help you with something?”

“Not me, but him.” Hughes shoved his friend forward. “He wants books of some sorts.”

Roy elbowed his friend back. “Mm, yes. I heard you say you could find any rare book, even banned ones. Is that correct?”

“Um, yes. We can find almost anything you might want,” promised Sheska.

“I’d like books on alchemy. Anything at all.”

The girl’s expression changed and she made a grimace. “I’m afraid you can’t afford that.”

“Start by giving me a price.”

Sheska shook her head. “I’m really sorry. Impossible. I can’t even afford half of one myself. It’s so dangerous to look for them too…most of the time they’re stolen from blondies.”

“Oh. I see…” Roy felt disappointed. How could mere books be so difficult to find? He itched at the memory of the hundred of books piled up around the Elrics’ quarters. He offered a smile despite his unhappiness. “Thank you then, good day.”

“But,” Sheska said, slowly. “I can, maybe, offer you some text copies.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well see, each time we do have a new book here, I always read it before giving it to the client. I’ve read a few rare books on alchemy. I have a great memory, I can recopy them in a few days.” Her eyes shone as she went on, her voice taking a longing edge. “It’s not the original thing, it won’t have that fantastic scent and that wonderful rough feeling in your hand or –“

Roy interrupted the bookworm by catching her hand and kissing it. “It would be perfect if you could do me that favor,” he purred. He watched Sheska blush and splutter and added a smile to finish her. “I would be quite grateful, I assure you.”

“I’ll be a pleasure!” Sheska squeaked, her face the fetching shade of a juicy tomato. “I should have something for you by tomorrow!”

“My thanks, Sheska. We’ll leave you to your work then and I will see you tomorrow.”

“I…uh…yes. See you soon.”

“Manipulative bastard,” commented Hughes the second they were outside.

Roy gave his friend a superior glance. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m surprised she didn’t just faint,” replied Hughes, completely unimpressed. “Poor thing.”

“My charms are deadly, aren’t they?”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

They were silent while they crossed the market place, deftly avoiding the running children and ignoring the suspicious looks they sometimes attracted in this sea of brown, red, white and grey hair. They walked past a familiar shop, the one where Alphonse had disappeared into the day he had met and clashed with Edward. A pet shop indeed, with two kittens playing in the window. One had orange and white fur, the other was black. Roy wondered if they sold the black one cheaper than the other.

“Roy, come on. There’s a pair of soldiers watching us. Let’s move.”

“I’m following you.” They carried on toward the slums, their designated area. “They say hair color betrays the quality of the genes, right?”

“Something like that. The paler, the purer.”

“I have the definite impression blondies are not generally more intelligent than mongrels.”

“You think?” Hughes snorted. “I figured they think being an haughty, useless jerk is the only valuable gene or something.”

Roy ignored the sarcasm. “Either alchemy does not require the higher genes they pretend it does, or hair color isn’t truly an indication of your gene pool.”

Hughes sobered up as well. “Either way, you can make alchemy, somehow. That puts you on the same level as them, whether they like it or not. You might want to watch out. I have a feeling it’s something they would prefer to keep quiet, and they never were against brutal methods of elimination.”

“I’m aware of that. Though sometimes that works in our favor.”

Hughes knew exactly what Roy was talking about. “Like meeting a white haired commoner who happens to fall in love with our boy prostitute and decides his love is so strong that he can accept to stand the two bodyguards too?”

Roy wasn’t sure what to make out of that. Hughes was not usually so crude. He sounded…bitter. Was he resenting Fury for finding a lover of a higher social status that didn’t mind his black hair? Hughes was badly in love, it seemed, bad enough to actually be moody in front of the impossibility of it.

Roy threw an arm around Hughes’ shoulders without a word, reminding him that, no matter what, they still had each other and that ought to be enough.

How many years had it been? Fifteen or sixteen now? Long enough for them to be alike to an old married couple, used to live to each other’s breathing. Hughes had saved his life, and Roy had taught him how to survive in exchange but he still felt indebted. It didn’t live up to equivalent trade. There was nothing more precious than a friend who would do absolutely anything for you and Hughes was definitely one of those. He’s sneaked in the goddamned inner city just to get him out!

He was indebted to Hughes. Hughes had done crazy things for him. If he could only find a way to...
-

Edward groaned and opened his eyes. He looked at the shiny axe in front of him and the crazy-looking man holding it. He tried closing his eyes and opening them again; the crazy guy was still there.

“Ah, shit.”

The fact the man was wearing a dress and that a brown wig was on the table behind him said enough on what had happened. Edward had been so focused on Winry’s safety he hadn’t paid attention to anything else and fell for the trick. And now he was…somewhere. Edward took a minute to investigate his predicament; tied to a chair in a room full of dangling meat and missing his automail arm. Wonderful start.

First things first. “Who the hell are you?”

The smile on the man’s face was nowhere near what Edward would have called sane. “You can call me Barry the Chopper. Isn’t it a charming name? He he.” Barry stroked his axe lovingly and Edward repressed a shiver. “You surprised me, following me like that. I had to go back to trick you before you caught up.” Barry noticed Edward’s glance toward his automail; it was lying on the table beside the wig. “I know who you are of course so I made sure to disarm you properly.”

Edward wondered with anxiety why the man had remained in the area so long. Winry had been missing for, what, an hour? What had Barry done to her during that time? The axe wasn’t bloody but that didn’t say much.

“Where’s Winry?”

“The violent girl? She’s right here.”

“Mmnpf,” commented a feminine voice.

Edward looked around, stifling a groan when his head reminded him he had been hit earlier, and found Winry alive and looking well despite being chained, gagged and shivering from the cold. She seemed both afraid and furious. Violent girl? Both the delay and the pack of ice the man was holding to his cheek suddenly made an awful lot of sense. For once Edward was delighted to have a mechanic who never left home without her wrench; it had bought her time.

The kidnapped girl was whole so far but the fact the rescue party had fallen into the trap was worrisome. There was a need for an emergency plan but Edward’s mind came up blank. He could hardly do anything in his position; he couldn’t rely on the strength of his automail arm, couldn’t clap and had nothing to draw an array with – aside from his nails. He only had to try for a few seconds before he realized there was no way he could carve an array in the chair like this. No luck… But he could figure it out, really.

The butcher was currently sharpening his axe and the sound did nothing to help Edward think. Nor did the words he said when he was done. “I’m glad after all. I never had anybody to witness my work of art.”

Edward growled, the urge to kill intensifying. “Creep, don’t you dare touch her.”

The cold light shone on Barry’s axe as he leaned down casually and slid his blade over Edward’s shoulder. It sliced the flesh easily and Edward tensed against the burning pain, refusing to scream.

“What do you think you can do? You alchemists are helpless without your arrays. Or both your hands, in your case.” Edward didn’t realize right away the weapon had been removed, the wound still burning fiercely. Barry bent back toward him, this time intending to tie a length of fabric over his mouth. “Be quiet and admire my art.”

Edward could hear Winry’s chains rattle as she trashed in her bonds. She was understandably alarmed but Edward wasn’t about to give up; his legs weren’t tied and one of them was automail. It would do.

Edward tensed back then lurched forward as best as he could, his forehead colliding with Barry’s face. Barry fell back, hitting the table on his way to the ground, and Edward braced himself on the floor with his feet before the chair tumbled over. From that position, chair tipped forward and feet on the ground, Edward was able to stand up. It was awkward to stand with his body bent in two but he could move enough to attack; he quickly brought his left food down on the back of Barry’s knee. Broken kneecaps were a good start, Edward thought. Barry cursed and stretched a hand in the air but he couldn’t reach his axe on the table. Edward pressed all his weight down on his automail leg, expecting bones to crack any minute now.

There was a raspy dragging sound and a voice echoed to them. “Winry? Niisan?”

Edward automatically looked up at the familiar voice’s call and Barry used that moment of distraction to snag one of the chair’s legs and pull; Edward lost his balance and fell to the floor face first.

Barry stood up, rubbing the back of his knee with one hand and holding his face with the other. He looked less than happy. “Your brother, is it? It’s in the family to be meddlers, isn’t it?” Edward tried to kick but Barry had already stepped out of reach to pull on his wig. “I won’t be long. I’ll be right back to take care of you,” he promised with a dirty glare, speaking with that woman voice he had tricked Winry and Edward with.

Edward didn’t like where this was heading. Alphonse was even more likely to fall for Barry’s acting than the both of them. He wiggled weakly, his head exploding in rainbow colored stars. Stupid floor, why was it so hard? Ow.

“Mmpf!” said Winry. / Do something! /

Edward couldn’t turn his head to look at her but he still replied. “Mmmpfff!” / Working on it! /

Alphonse was shocked to see a woman running – she was limping too - toward him with blood on her face. “What happened to you?” The woman jumped on him, clinging and sobbing. She was nearly chocking him with her weight. “It’s okay, calm down! I’ll take care of the bad guy, don’t worry. Let go now, I can’t see how bad you’re hurt.” She seemed okay as far as he could tell – aside from the trauma.

Alphonse didn’t want to be brutal but he didn’t have time to comfort the woman properly. There was still Winry – and possibly his brother – and how many people did that murderer herd at once? Al caught the brown-haired woman’s shoulders, trying to use moderate force to peel her off, when he felt that strange prickle that preceded the loss of his automail. He blinked as he lost control over the metal limb and it slid out of his clothes, taken by gravity.

“Wha-?”

The woman swiftly caught the automail and swung it in Alphonse’s face; he couldn’t avoid it and saw stars at the meeting of metal and jaw. Even dazed, Alphonse was quick enough to sidestep the second swing and avoid earning an automail blade in the chest. He wobbled back awkwardly and tried to get over the creepy shock; that was his arm he was getting beaten with! He felt tired and scared and he didn’t have time for this!

“What are you doing?”

Alphonse didn’t dare to strike back, wondering if the woman wasn’t having some sort of hysteria attack. He couldn’t tell if it was plausible for a woman to panic and become violent after a psychopath had harmed her. He focused on recoiling for the time being, attempting to soothe the woman with words.

“Calm down, I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m going to keep backing up, you can stop trying to hit me. I won’t touch you.” He could have disarmed her easily with alchemy but he needed two hands for that. He could have kicked instead but he didn’t know his own strength and the last thing he wanted was to break her wrist.

“Stop moving, I want to cut you up.” Her voice was sweet and so was her strange giggle.

Alphonse was troubled; he was starting to have doubts. She couldn’t possibly be-?

Oh, that would explain so much. Nobody would have expected a young woman to be a brutal murderer. Although, in the area of brutal young ladies….

“It’s you,” Al accused. “You’re the one who’s been killing girls. Those bruises…did Winry do that? Where is she? You better not have hurt her or –“ He ducked another swing; the woman wasn’t even listening to his angry questions.

The murderess was grinning widely, probably thinking he was helpless and that it would be easy to trap him against the wall. Watching that grin, Alphonse felt sick to his stomach thinking about Winry. But she had to be alright. If she’d managed to fight back and hurt the woman, she was surely alright. But shouldn’t she have shown up already then? What if she was hurt and couldn’t move? And Edward was still missing and Alphonse had no idea where he could possibly have disappeared to and what in the world was going on?

Alphonse ignored the worried thoughts running in the back of his mind. He did know one thing; it was okay to hurt this woman now. He was going to gain a bit of room to kick the automail away from her and then he was going to force her to tell what had happened to Winry. He would improvise again from there.

As he took that final back step, intending to spin around on his left foot and strike with the other, the blond collided with something and yelped as he tried to retain his vertical position. “Whaa!”

It was the open door Alphonse had collided with – strange, he didn’t remember pushing it open so wide – and he hobbled head first into a rack next, tumbling to the floor along with a dozen cooking pots.

The woman lifted the transmuted arm to strike the boy with the blade. Alphonse didn’t move, playing knocked out but peeking from under his lashes and waiting. He was ready to roll out of the way and he had a hand curled around the handle of a pot he planned to introduce to the woman’s face in two seconds. This was ending now.

Alphonse’s plan was never put into work; a shadow appeared and caught the attacker in its grip, throwing her back. There was a strange sound, then silence. A strangely pleasant silence. It was cold in this room and the ground was sucking his heat, making him shiver despite his three layers of clothing; he didn’t allow himself to wait for the world to stop dancing before pushing himself to a sitting position. He wasn’t sure what that strange wet sound had been but he was about to find out.

There was a large puddle of blood on the floor and a body with a half destroyed head in it; it was all that remained from the crazy la- no, wait, was that a wig? A cross dresser? Standing above the corpse, there was a dark man with a bloody hand; the Ishvarith. Alphonse knew what the scene meant. It seemed he had found not one but two murderers.

Since the Isvarith said nothing, Alphonse tentatively offered his gratitude, “You didn’t have to kill him, but thank you.”

The man remained silent and it became obvious that he had assumed Alphonse was unconscious, and therefore wouldn’t see him. It was impossible to tell what he would decide to do now that his secret was known.

Faint voices carried over to them, cutting short whatever could have happened. “This way, Colonel! The wall is damaged!” The Elrics transmutations had not gone unnoticed.

The boy and the man stared at each other for a heartbeat. Alphonse reached toward his automail arm - current resting on the ground – and pressed his hand to the metal palm. He stood, rammed the door and transmuted it shut. He wasn’t getting anybody else involved in this mess.

“You have to get out by another way. Is there anywhere I can transmute a way out?” The Ishvarith flexed his arm in what could have been a threat but Alphonse pretended to take it otherwise. “Er, I should do it. I can close it back afterward.”

To Alphonse’s relief, Scar inclined his head in agreement and indicated where he could open the wall.

Alphonse obligingly made a hole. “Uh, and what’s your name anyway?”

The Ishvarith hesitated, then spoke a single, dry word. “Scar.” He disappeared.

The wall was swiftly reconstructed into place. Okay. One situation solved. Now, back to worrying about Winry. And Edward.

On cue, footsteps were heard.

“Al!” Edward was stumbling as he came up because he had connected his automail on the way.

“Niisan! I didn’t think you were here.” Alphonse would have thought Edward could defeat a mere non-alchemist killer on his own.

The younger Elric expected a relieved hug and received a hit to the head instead. “You idiot! I had everything under control! What did you think you were –“ He saw the body and immediately sobered up. “What happened?”

“Did you find Winry?”

“She’s fine.” Edward made an impatient gesture toward the corpse, keeping his eyes averted from it. “Now explain that.”

“I found who the other murderer is, apparently. He’s a friend.”

Edward was startled. “What? Who-?”

“I’m not telling. He’s a friend, okay? He saved my life. We need to cover him.” There were bangs on the door. “Havoc and Hawkeye,” Alphonse explained. “I fused the door so they didn’t figure out what had happened.” He was grateful that his older brother didn’t argue further, instead wandering to the corpse.

Edward analyzed what had been done to Barry with all the cool he could muster in front of the horrible mess.

/ Relax. You’ve seen worse. It’s nothing. Like, remember mother? Oh, wait, no, don’t think about her! It’s…just a dead person. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not alive, it’s okay… /

This was alchemy, concluded Edward. That man had used the second step of alchemy – deconstruction - to kill. He had probably done the same to all his previous victims, which meant this method of murder would be too easy to recognize.

“Niisan? What are you-“

Reaching down with his automail – eyes shut not to see - Edward clenched his metallic fingers over the remains of the head until the bones were crushed under his grip and more blood and cranial matter went to maculate the wall and floor. He shivered as some of the warm liquid landed on his cheek and proceeded to drip down,. Edward let go, hoping the gooey mess could pass as a result of extreme automail violence. He stood, his metal hand dripping fresh blood on the stained floor.

“So? Is this enough covering up?”

Alphonse swallowed and looked away. “It should do. Thanks, Niisan.”

“I have to get at least some heroic activity.” Edward didn’t say another word, going to open the door.

Havoc, who had been charging toward the door in the faint hope of bringing it down with brute strength, nearly collapsed on Edward. “Boys, you alright?”

“We’re fine, and Winry too,” grumbled Edward, shoving the soldier away.

Alphonse struggled to get his mind to focus on the original problem of Winry’s disappearance. “That’s…” He made a vague gesture to the headless man. “The murderer. Or was, anyway.”

To Hawkeye, Edward said. “Winry is in the back. She’s tied up but she’s fine.”

Hawkeye dropped her coat on the corpse and hurried to go rescue her girlfriend while Havoc herded the brothers out of the room. Edward howled when the soldier touched his shoulder, drawing Alphonse’s attention to the wet spot on the black jacket.

“Niisan, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing. Just a little cut…”

“Sit down and let me see that!”

When the women joined them, the teenagers reconstructed the series of events. Winry explained how she had been lured out of her way by a woman who seemed panicked because his son has damaged his automail and was in pain.

“I got a few hits on him but I was taken by surprised,” she grumbled. “I can’t believe I fell for it.”

“I feel for it too,” muttered Edward while Havoc tended to his wounded shoulder. “I was near and he heard me calling. So that creep came back for me before I could catch up and see what he was up to. So I thought it was a woman coming up to me and talking about a murderer. She told me how ‘he’s going to kill the other girl’ and I was so exited I didn’t pay attention to what was under my nose. It was easy for him to knock me out.”

“I thought you were already dead when he brought you back,” commented Winry.

Edward chose to ignore the girl’s interruption. “I woke up tied to a chair with my automail removed, but that didn’t stop me. I was kicking his ass when Alphonse came in but then he tripped me and left me there. By the time I managed to get free, it was over.”

Alphonse grimaced. “Well I wasn’t any better, I fell for it as well. I really thought it was a hysterical woman clinging to me. He must have figured out how to remove automail with Niisan because he slipped his hand under my shirt to do that. Then he took my arm and hit me with it!” Somehow the idea of beating him with his own automail was more insulting to Alphonse than just trying to kill him. He made a face and carried on, the lie coming easily. “But Niisan showed up and then he was no match for us.”

Winry had taken hold of Alphonse’s arm to inspect it. “That creep, handling my delicate automail like that! I think something is out of line here. Hang on, I need a wrench.”

The boys had to smile wryly at that; Winry was obviously safe and sound.

“On the bright side, this is going to improve your reputation by much, Edward,” commented Havoc. “This makes you a hero.”

Edward couldn’t think of anything to say to that. “That’s great. Can we go home now? I want a shower.”

\"There is paperwork to be filled,\" said Hawkeye. \"You are not to leave this room until we are done investigating the situation. Havoc, fetch backup.\"

Edward groaned. \"Being a hero is too complicated.\"