(no subject)
v. thule
When Edward awakes that morning, he has forgotten most of his dreams. He has not, however, forgotten the events of the prior evening. With this much trouble brewing on the horizon, it is clear what he must do - try yet again to find his father.
At least this time, he has some sort of lead. Haushofer had been at the castle the prior night, and had been involved in catching Envy in his dragon form. The next logical step is, then, to track this man down and grill him on any information he might know.
He works at the university; this much Edward is aware of. But when he shows up there that morning, the one lead he has quickly runs into a dead end. 'Professor Haushofer's classes have been suspended,' the students inform him. 'He's busy at home with the Thule society.'
Thule? This was something that had an edge of familiarity to it, but not enough for Ed to match any meaning to the word. But it's not as if it's worth his time, is it? Apparently all the society amounts to is yet another league of crackpots, looking to use their 'gods' to, as they say, save Germany from itself. Edward doesn't give one crap about that, but he stores the knowledge in the edge of his mind anyway, annoyed that he has to spare even a little brain power to it.
At least, once again, the next step is clear. If Haushofer is at his home, then Edward is going to go to that home. It's heavily patrolled by guards, but this is no matter to the great Fullmetal Alchemist, however out of practice he may be. He sneaks past them quickly, and pulls himself in through a broken window - messy, messy. This society can't amount to all that much if it's this incredibly easy to get in.
His face is cut from the glass, but he pays the minor wound no mind. He's too busy wondering how a university Professor can afford a home such as this, and those wiggy feelings are getting far worse than ever. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's getting himself in over his head - and for the first time in months, there are the small stirrings of excitement in his tummy.
vi. incomplete
It's clear from the inside of the building that it is truly no ordinary villa. The first oddity to stick out to him is the area with all the rocketry - puzzle pieces are rotating in his head, threatening to line up, and two have just clicked together. Whatever this is, they have something to do with Alfons' sponsors. Perhaps they are his sponsors - but what need would a society of crackpots have for rockets?
He wanders the hallways unstopped, but he doesn't let his guard down for even a moment. Soon enough, he comes across a large, circular room, one that reminds him a little too much of the underground city. There's chalk all over the ground, markings that he doesn't immediately recognize. 'A magic circle,' he can't help but scoff. 'They probably sacrifice virgins to bring forth the Devil.
Give me a break!'
It had been a moment of stupidity, but realization quickly strides into the room and clonks him over the head. No, he realizes. This isn't magic - it's an alchemic circle. His blood runs cold and his heart sinks. What the hell is one of those doing in this world? Alchemy doesn't work. He knows it doesn't work, from the first frantic days he spent in this hellhole. Hours and hours spent on the ground with only one arm available to him, drawing circles over and over in the dirt, ignoring both a lack of results and all the fucking strange looks it earned from those around him. He'd been hysterical enough in those days to try it, but he'd had prior knowledge - these people shouldn't have any at all. Alchemy was a dead thing here, passed over for machines and science, and all the useful knowledge long since lost to the brink.
This smells of his father's involvement, and he knows he's getting closer to his goal. It's knowledge he can use, but suddenly he's distracted - distracted by the fact the ring isn't complete, distracted by the fact that there is a piece of chalk just sitting right there...
He knows how to complete it. He knows what's missing. Before he can even think through what he's doing, he's on his knees, rendering the necessary lines and arcs to make this thing complete.
But it's not going to work, is it? It doesn't matter what it's meant to do, nor does it matter why it's here. It's not going to function. He brushes his hand over his cheek absently, ignoring the sting of the wound, not even noticing the blood that spreads across his gloves. He sinks down, his own actions far more wounding than anyone could ever achieve against him, and his hands hit the ring. The blood serves to connect whatever link was missing, and -
vii. niisan
- and all of a sudden, a light shines.
'You're still just a dumb little kid, aren't you?' The voice is unmistakable - Envy is here, and has been watching his every move. Fuck, fuck, Ed is so stupid, fuck. The dragon is shining with symbols that Edward doesn't recognize, and something is happening. The air is heavy with it, it's an unmistakable power, and the array has been activated. There's purple and red and pink all at once, and countless suits of armour drop from the sky. He hears shouting, but he can't make out most of it, and there are men suddenly, and they're asking him something, but he can't -
'Have you come back from Shamballa?'
The question is directed at him, and Edward has only a moment to wonder before he's being punched in the goddamn face. The hell with that, he's not going to help them with anything, even if he had been inclined to do so before. They're ordering him to talk, they're ordering him to explain what he's done, but he ignores them all, with a heavy-set glare.
The men in the armour are all dead, apparently crushed by some unknown force. It's something they think he's done. Of course they do. Wouldn't he think the same, in their situation? He's about to get punched again, or physically abused in some other way, when some woman butts her ugly face in.
Her name seems to be Eckhart, and she's the leader of this operation, she's got to be. Only leaders of stupid operations ramble that goddamn much, and Ed doesn't really care to listen to what she's saying. Something about a place called Shamballa, a mystical place that's all pure and crap and will provide them with some power to win some Great War. It's more of this 'let's save Germany' shit, and he's wondering when she escaped from the loony bin.
But she says she knows his father, and he's determined to grill the hell out of her to find him. The more that happens, the more he thinks that Hohenheim is the only one that will be able to tell him what the hell is going on, and it's only then that Edward would be able to correct this shit. He has no idea why it's falling to him, when all he wanted to do was give up on life, but them's the facts of life. But before he gets a chance to speak properly, before he gets a chance to ask, there's a gun to his head.
He goddamn well hates guns.
Ed manages to protect himself with his prosthetic hand. Two of the fingers are shot off, but it's better than his brains all over the floor. His body is moving as it used to, letting him flee in the best ways he knows how. He dives into the suits of armour, and it's there that he spots a familiar face, and despite all logic or reasoning -
Alphonse Elric is there with him.
His brother is there in this fucking world with him, but in that godforsaken suit of armour. Edward would like more time to process this, but despite a moment's reprieve (and a height crack or two), the bad guys adjust easier than him. They start shooting again, and off the brothers go, fleeing the hell out of there.
Somehow, they manage to get away. Probably because they're together.
No matter how dire a situation is, an Elric can always manage it with the help of his brother.