PAWNS CHAPTER 31
Thank you for betaing this for me circe67
INTRUSION
Al felt at loose ends. His body was tensed for a fight, but as the minutes passed and no fight appeared, he began to feel simply exhausted. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl.
Everyone had a job to do. Weapons to check, perimeters to stake out, equipment to monitor, and he was left to sit on the edge of his bed in his room trying not to get in anyone's way. Even Winry had more to do with him, and arguably she didn't even have to be there.
He wasn't needed anywhere.
Al had argued for a job. He could be a look out. He could be one of the people to subdue the security. Hell he was a pretty good fighter - maybe not quite up to Ed, but a hell of a lot better than, say, Midnight. He wasn't a wimp. He wasn't stupid. He was USEFUL dammit!
"Stay in your room until we've got the situation under control," said Roy. "Then we'll call you down."
Al glanced at his watch for the third time in two minutes.
Screw this.
I can hide in a closet in Roy's room. This sitting all alone doing nothing is crap. I can at least talk to Ed, then. Yeah, Ed should be just about as bored as I am right now.
Al headed out the door. The arrayed security hardly even glanced at him. He reached the end of the hall and knocked on the door to Roy and Ed's apartment. It cracked open, and one of Roy's minions peeked out. The door opened fully.
"Where's Ed," asked Al.
"He's in the bedroom."
Al walked in. The living room, which had until last night been used as their headquarters, was now clean and bare. All signs of use swept away. The Fuhrer would walk in and see nothing out of the ordinary until the trap was sprung.
Al walked back and opened the door to the master bedroom without knocking. His eyes caught movement and he stopped in his tracks.
Roy and Ed, dressed in military uniforms, were sitting on the bed together, arms around each other, locked in a passionate kiss.
Al's throat went dry.
He knew Ed was sleeping with Roy. He'd known if for weeks, but until this point he'd never actually seen any hint of their relationship. They had never held hands, or kissed, or even used affectionate names in front of him. Once he'd seen Roy put his arm around Ed's shoulders, but that could just be considered companionable. Friends did that kind of thing.
Friends didn't kiss like this.
Al turned away, blushing. His vision of Ed happily living in the house next door cracked and fell apart. Ed would be with Roy, wherever Roy eventually settled. Ed was already gone.
How had it happened? When had it happened? When had the team of Al and Ed broken apart? Was it when Roy seduced Ed? Or when Al was conscripted? Or was it even further back than that? Had he himself started this downward spiral when he and Winry started dating? Or maybe this was just an inevitable part of growing up and it would have happened regardless of what either of them did.
No. I want him back. I don't want him with Roy. I want him with ME. He gave up YEARS of his life for my sake, giving up Roy should be an easy sacrifice.
But would I give up Winry for him? Al covered his face with his hand. Of course not.
I'm selfish. I want both.
"Is there anything you need, Al?" asked Roy in a slightly annoyed voice.
"I'm sorry," said Al. "I should have knocked." He glanced back at his brother and the ex-Colonel. They were still sitting next to each other, but no longer romantically entwined.
"You should go back and wait in your room. It won't be long now. Unless there is something I can do for you."
How childish would it be to say he was lonely and stressed out and he wanted company.
The radio squawked, Big Fish was in the building. Ed grabbed the handset and called in, then set it back down on the bureau. "It might be more convenient to let him stay here," he told Roy, reaching over and running his flesh hand through Roy's stiff hair.
Roy hesitated, then relented. "Hide behind the bed then, Al. Absolutely no heroics on your part, you are the only one who can do this. Without you, we are screwed."
Relieved, Al crouched behind the bed, out of sight of the door.
The radio hissed again. "Big Fish Going DOWN. Plan B. Five on stairway."
Oh God, that meant that the Fuhrer was headed to the jail cell rather than coming to his room first. They had known this would be a possibility, but there was no way to really set things up for that scenario. They would have to take risks and play it by ear.
Roy jumped up. "Al, Ed, come with me." He scooped up the radio. "Corridor, Rooms, plan B, Head to the stairways. Devers keep them in the elevator until I say go."
"Power has been cut to the Elevator and sub 4," came Dever's reply.
Al followed Roy out into the living room and then into the hall. Suddenly Roy stopped and grabbed him hard by the shoulder. "Stay behind us. DON'T engage the enemy. Do you understand."
Al pulled his shoulder away irritated. "You don't have to protect me. I know what I'm doing."
Ed threw an arm around him "We know that Al. Just, stay safe."
"YOU stay safe, Ed," said Al.
The security were already in the hall, filing into the stairwell. Al did as he was told and stayed back, behind everyone else, and kept close to the wall and out of the line of fire. Ed bounded ahead jumping the railing to the landing below, then repeating until he was out of sight. The noise of footsteps echoed painfully off the concrete.
A moment later Al heard the first sounds of conflict. Roy stood on the landing below him, back to the wall, staring up at him with a hand held out. Halt.
Gun shots. Cries. The light of alchemy bounced off the walls. Thuds and muffled grunts. Shots again, and then finally quiet.
No sound but the hammering of Al's heart against his ribs.
STAND OFF
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop and the lights flickered and turned an eerie red. For a moment everyone in the crowded car just looked up and around. "The power is out, sir," said one of the security.
Midnight looked between the shoulders of the guards at the Fuhrer. The man's eyes were narrowed and he was staring at Ashfell. "Security," he said in a cold voice.
"Yessir!"
"Shoot Major Ashfell."
Midnight gaped.
Thankfully the security didn't immediately carry out the Fuhrer's orders.
"Sir?" said one of them. "It's a power outage…"
The Fuhrer clicked his tongue. "I understand perfectly what is going on. I ordered you to shoot him."
"It's too crowded in here, Sir. Someone else could get hurt."
"Sir, please," said Ashfell, his voice tight with fear. "That seems… that seems a bit harsh. What have I done?" Ashfell's legendary composure had fallen apart. For some reason seeing Ashfell afraid was FAR more terrifying than anything the Fuhrer had ever said or implied to Midnight. It was positively ugly. It was wrong.
"He got to you didn't he, this is a trap." The Fuhrer backed himself further into a corner. "Men I said SHOOT him!"
"Sir," said one of the security. "I'm afraid we aren't authorized to summarily execute someone without a direct threat being made to you."
"Oh, he's threatening me alright." The Fuhrer's eyes looked around between the men crammed in the elevator. "Did that bastard get the guards too? Are they all under an array? How many are part of this?" It was getting hot the elevator and the air had become rather stale.
The Fuhrer's eyes suddenly focused on Midnight. The alchemist couldn't move. "Did you do this for him? When did you decide to join his side? Or did one of them get an array on you as well?"
"Sir," Midnight said. "You are wrong, this is just a power failure, nothing more."
"Don't insult my intelligence, Midnight. You don't want me dead, I know that much. You'd all be executed if I died. I know what you are up to, and you know I know what you are up to. So why don't we just end this charade.
"Ashfell, there is no excuse for letting yourself come under that array. You knew better. Midnight I excuse you. You can't help your gullible nature. I knew that was a risk when I gave you this responsibility. I'm disappointed in you, but if you aid me, I won't seek your execution. You will have your certification stripped, and you'll be demoted, but I'll make sure your sentence is light."
He turned to the bewildered security. "And as for you lot, I ordered that you SHOOT this man and none of you have complied. You need no more word other than mine. SHOOT him. NOW."
Hesitantly one of the security unholstered his gun and then pressed it up against the side of Ashfell's head. Midnight could see the man's hands shaking a bit. Ashfell had his hands up in surrender. He wasn't doing anything the least bit threatening.
Cooperate and I'll get off. Fight and I'll get shot now. Live… not live…
Al.
If we fail, Al will be executed.
No.
Midnight touched the array on his belt.
Five people were a lot to encompass at one time. It took all of his concentration, but he was rewarded to see every one of the security mens eyes become suddenly very reflective. The Fuhrer growled and tried to grab him, but there were two bodies between them.
Midnight was already at the limit of his capacity; he wasn't going to be able to hold this for long, but with just a bit more effort...
The Fuhrer's eyes started glowing red in reflected light. It seemed oddly appropriate.
Midnight noticed one of the security drop to the floor. Then another. Midnight had to keep concentrating but he managed to focus enough to see what Ashfell was doing. The man had a handkerchief in his hand and he was grabbing each of the blinded security firmly by the head and drugging them with the chloroform.
He's good, thought Midnight. And in that moment, his concentration slipped a bit too much. One of the security blinked back his sight and noticed the bodies on the floor and Ashfell with a cloth in his hand, held out as far from his own face as possible. "You!" He pulled his gun and aimed at Ashfell. Midnight pushed him, and Ashfell simultaneously stepped on the limp bodies to grabbed him in a clumsy bear hug. Between the two of them they were able hold his gun at a safe angle until Ashfell could administer the anesthetic.
Midnight caught a faint whiff of the stuff and his head felt suddenly funny. Ashfell noticed it, too. The car was too closed in. They had to get rid of the thing soon or else ALL of them would pass out. "Can you make us a hole?" Ashfell asked.
Midnight reached into his pocket for the chalk he always carried. He quickly drew an array on the wall of the elevator, then touched it. It lit up and the metal melted away leaving a hole. Ashfell thrust his hand through and dropped the cloth out into the shaft.
"Well," said Goddard, picking himself up off the floor, and straightening himself out. "I guess you have me for now." He raised his hands in defeat. "But you will be caught and when that happens I will watch your executions."
My execution…
I'm in too deep now, and yet that felt like a relief, as though some awful decision had been taken away from him. The tension that had grown to painful levels seemed to break and subside.
Midnight let out an ironic peal of laugher.
RICOCHET
Ed tore down the stairs, adrenaline making his blood sing in his ears. It felt good. It felt like flying. And he was flying now, up over the rail and down onto the landing below, bending at the knee just so to take the impact.
His lungs burned, his belly burned, and he felt like a boiler ready to explode. He'd never seen the Fuhrer before, never heard his voice, never even noticed his picture in the paper. Perhaps he was the only person in the country who could say that. But it didn't matter, because he would be the one to pull that man down.
Ed pushed past soldiers twice his weight and more than a full head higher. His palm tingled in anticipation of a slap and the warm surge of alchemy rushing through his body. He rounded one more landing, now ahead of the slapping feet of the arrayed soldiers. He was going to be first.
It was time to get physical.
The Fuhrer's security saw him coming, heard him coming. How could they not. They weren't sure what was going on, but they weren't paid to be tentative. Their guns were out and ready before Ed could jump over the final rail. Ed actually felt the wind from one of the bullets (That's close) before he landed squarely on the shoulders of one of the men.
He clapped his hands on the way down and then fell forwards to the floor, pressing the virtual array into the concrete. With a loud groan the floor melted and moved, surged up like a great wave, and knocked the men off their feet and into the walls. One went tumbling down the steps to the next landing.
The rest of his people were catching up, guns out.
No one cried "Surrender."
No one asked that they drop their weapons.
In fact no one spoke at all. Off balance, two got off a wild second shot, only to receive bullets back. One in the stomach, the other in the knee. And they were down. The other three were subdued rather quickly.
Ed transmuted some rope from the fire hose so that Roy's people could secure the soldiers. He looked up to see Roy and Al rounding the stairs cautiously. He gave them a thumbs up sign and a grin.
Roy put his mouth to the radio. "Five in the stairwell down. Open door to sub four. Over."
"Roger," came Devers voice. "We got a panic button going off. I'm initiating building wide lock down. That should buy you some time, but don't count on much. Do what you need to do quickly. I'd say you got about 10 minutes to finish this mission before you will face a lot of heavy artillery. Over."
"Understood, over."
The lights suddenly flickered from red to white again. Without anyone touching it, the lock suddenly clicked and Ed heard a very quiet buzzing noise. He grabbed the handle and pushed. The door was heavy but well balanced and it made a rather satisfying clang when it banged against the wall.
Sub four was the prison level. There were some noises coming from the doors to the cells, and Ed thought he saw a pair of eyes looking through the small barred window on one of them. He'd known there were other prisoners, but he never knew why they were there or what use they were being put to. Now he wondered whether he should take a moment to break them out.
No, that wasn’t his job, and they needed less chaos and confusion not more. When Roy was Fuhrer, he would insist his lover figure out what their story was, but for now they could stay. He'd been in a cell like that one for months… it wasn't that bad.
The elevator was what needed his attention right now. Roy and Al hung back in the stairwell while Ed and several of Roy's people flattened themselves to either side of the elevator doors. Ed saw a radio hanging at the belt of one of the men and grabbed it, bringing it to his lips.
"Devers open the elevator doors."
The light blinked in here as well and suddenly the Elevator seemed to come to life. After aching seconds the doors began to open. The men around him turned, aiming their guns inwards. Ed called out from cover, "Put DOWN your weapons and surrender."
"We are secure in here," came a voice from inside. Ed recognized it to be Ashfell's. He saw the men relaxing, weapons still aimed, but no longer just a hair away from firing.
The radio he was holding squawked again. "Our position is being assaulted," came Devers voice. "We can hold them off for a couple of minutes, but not longer."
Ed stepped out and looked into the elevator car. He saw men lying in heaps on the floor, and Ashfell and Midnight standing. Against the wall was a middle aged man with cold eyes belying the surrender made by his upraised hands.
"Did you get the men in the stairwell?"
"Yes."
"Any injuries."
"Two on their side, none on ours."
"Excellent," said Ashfell. He turned and put a hand on the Fuhrer pushing him out the door and into the hall. "I believe sir, you wanted to see that jail cell?"
The Fuhrer looked straight at Ed, assessing him coldly. "Don't think your genius will get you off this time," he said through tightly clenched teeth. "You or your brother."
Ashfell pushed him on until they reached the cell. Ashfell slid a metal card into the lock and it clicked. He then pushed the cell open.
It was the first time in a week that Ed had seen his jail cell. The last time he was here, he was rubbing Roy's back, reasurring him that all would be well. The room looked exactly the same. Same books, same beds, same everything. It was as if the week had never happened… Until the Fuhrer walked in and turned around, staring defiantly at him.
"Where is Mustang," asked the Fuhrer.
"He'll be here soon enough," said Ashfell.
"Hold him still," said Ed. "Might as well get this started now." He pressed his hands together.
The Fuhrer did not hold still, but Ashfell was bigger and stronger, and soon the Fuhrer's coat had been pried open, his shirt lifted and his pale, flabby belly exposed.
Ed pressed the palms of his hands against the Fuhrer's flesh. He felt muscles under the fat, tightening under the palm of his hand. The Fuhrer wrested free of Ashfell's grip but the damage was already done. The array, neat and perfect stood in stark contrast to the almost blue flesh beneath.
Ashfell let him go. Flushing the Fuhrer pulled his shirt back down giving the two of them the evilest look.
"It's your own fault," said Ed. "You go making weapons like this, you should make sure the ones making them for you are on your side."
"Don’t get smart with me," said the Fuhrer. "Your time is coming. You think anyone is going to accept me when I'm arrayed? They'll know something is wrong. There is no way you can win this fight."
"Oh," drawled Roy from the door. "I'd say things were looking well for us."
"It's on him," said Ed,
"My turn, I guess," said Al stepping past Roy and heading towards the Fuhrer.
Then he stopped, his eyes wide. Ed spun around in time to see the Fuhrer pull a gun from his coat pocket and level it directly at Roy.
"NOOOO!" Ed screamed and did the only thing that at that moment made any sense. He jumped between the gun and Roy.
Everything slowed down.
First a noise, deafeningly loud, echoed off the walls of the cell. Ed immediately felt a sudden intense pressure on his automail arm where the bullet ricocheted off. He winced in pain, but also felt triumph. He'd blocked the shot. Roy was safe.
Ashfell dived in at the same time, grabbing the Fuhrers hand and twisting it brutally backwards. The gun fell out and hit the floor, skittering and spinning to a rest under the desk.
Ed heard a loud thud behind him. He turned and saw Roy still standing, unharmed, but crouched forward, his hands up in a protective gesture, his eyes huge. And Ed kept looking and saw…
Oh god … he saw…
"AL!" Ed threw himself between the Fuhrer and Al as if to retroactively protect his brother. His eyes took in every detail at once: the awkward angle of his brother's arms, the strange splay of his legs, his brother's mouth, open and lax. The closed eyes.
It was so small, hardly even noticeable through the dark blond bangs, but it was there. A drop of blood just above the temple, just below the hairline. So little, like a coin. Like the burn mark from a cigar. So neat. Surely something that tiny couldn't be bad.
Ed scooped his brother up in his arms. Al felt limp and heavy, but alive. Not at all the way a dead body would have felt.
The bullet hole in his head didn't even bleed, but for that single drop.
It couldn't be that bad.
Couldn’t be.
Back to Chapter 30
On to Chapter 32
INTRUSION
Al felt at loose ends. His body was tensed for a fight, but as the minutes passed and no fight appeared, he began to feel simply exhausted. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl.
Everyone had a job to do. Weapons to check, perimeters to stake out, equipment to monitor, and he was left to sit on the edge of his bed in his room trying not to get in anyone's way. Even Winry had more to do with him, and arguably she didn't even have to be there.
He wasn't needed anywhere.
Al had argued for a job. He could be a look out. He could be one of the people to subdue the security. Hell he was a pretty good fighter - maybe not quite up to Ed, but a hell of a lot better than, say, Midnight. He wasn't a wimp. He wasn't stupid. He was USEFUL dammit!
"Stay in your room until we've got the situation under control," said Roy. "Then we'll call you down."
Al glanced at his watch for the third time in two minutes.
Screw this.
I can hide in a closet in Roy's room. This sitting all alone doing nothing is crap. I can at least talk to Ed, then. Yeah, Ed should be just about as bored as I am right now.
Al headed out the door. The arrayed security hardly even glanced at him. He reached the end of the hall and knocked on the door to Roy and Ed's apartment. It cracked open, and one of Roy's minions peeked out. The door opened fully.
"Where's Ed," asked Al.
"He's in the bedroom."
Al walked in. The living room, which had until last night been used as their headquarters, was now clean and bare. All signs of use swept away. The Fuhrer would walk in and see nothing out of the ordinary until the trap was sprung.
Al walked back and opened the door to the master bedroom without knocking. His eyes caught movement and he stopped in his tracks.
Roy and Ed, dressed in military uniforms, were sitting on the bed together, arms around each other, locked in a passionate kiss.
Al's throat went dry.
He knew Ed was sleeping with Roy. He'd known if for weeks, but until this point he'd never actually seen any hint of their relationship. They had never held hands, or kissed, or even used affectionate names in front of him. Once he'd seen Roy put his arm around Ed's shoulders, but that could just be considered companionable. Friends did that kind of thing.
Friends didn't kiss like this.
Al turned away, blushing. His vision of Ed happily living in the house next door cracked and fell apart. Ed would be with Roy, wherever Roy eventually settled. Ed was already gone.
How had it happened? When had it happened? When had the team of Al and Ed broken apart? Was it when Roy seduced Ed? Or when Al was conscripted? Or was it even further back than that? Had he himself started this downward spiral when he and Winry started dating? Or maybe this was just an inevitable part of growing up and it would have happened regardless of what either of them did.
No. I want him back. I don't want him with Roy. I want him with ME. He gave up YEARS of his life for my sake, giving up Roy should be an easy sacrifice.
But would I give up Winry for him? Al covered his face with his hand. Of course not.
I'm selfish. I want both.
"Is there anything you need, Al?" asked Roy in a slightly annoyed voice.
"I'm sorry," said Al. "I should have knocked." He glanced back at his brother and the ex-Colonel. They were still sitting next to each other, but no longer romantically entwined.
"You should go back and wait in your room. It won't be long now. Unless there is something I can do for you."
How childish would it be to say he was lonely and stressed out and he wanted company.
The radio squawked, Big Fish was in the building. Ed grabbed the handset and called in, then set it back down on the bureau. "It might be more convenient to let him stay here," he told Roy, reaching over and running his flesh hand through Roy's stiff hair.
Roy hesitated, then relented. "Hide behind the bed then, Al. Absolutely no heroics on your part, you are the only one who can do this. Without you, we are screwed."
Relieved, Al crouched behind the bed, out of sight of the door.
The radio hissed again. "Big Fish Going DOWN. Plan B. Five on stairway."
Oh God, that meant that the Fuhrer was headed to the jail cell rather than coming to his room first. They had known this would be a possibility, but there was no way to really set things up for that scenario. They would have to take risks and play it by ear.
Roy jumped up. "Al, Ed, come with me." He scooped up the radio. "Corridor, Rooms, plan B, Head to the stairways. Devers keep them in the elevator until I say go."
"Power has been cut to the Elevator and sub 4," came Dever's reply.
Al followed Roy out into the living room and then into the hall. Suddenly Roy stopped and grabbed him hard by the shoulder. "Stay behind us. DON'T engage the enemy. Do you understand."
Al pulled his shoulder away irritated. "You don't have to protect me. I know what I'm doing."
Ed threw an arm around him "We know that Al. Just, stay safe."
"YOU stay safe, Ed," said Al.
The security were already in the hall, filing into the stairwell. Al did as he was told and stayed back, behind everyone else, and kept close to the wall and out of the line of fire. Ed bounded ahead jumping the railing to the landing below, then repeating until he was out of sight. The noise of footsteps echoed painfully off the concrete.
A moment later Al heard the first sounds of conflict. Roy stood on the landing below him, back to the wall, staring up at him with a hand held out. Halt.
Gun shots. Cries. The light of alchemy bounced off the walls. Thuds and muffled grunts. Shots again, and then finally quiet.
No sound but the hammering of Al's heart against his ribs.
STAND OFF
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop and the lights flickered and turned an eerie red. For a moment everyone in the crowded car just looked up and around. "The power is out, sir," said one of the security.
Midnight looked between the shoulders of the guards at the Fuhrer. The man's eyes were narrowed and he was staring at Ashfell. "Security," he said in a cold voice.
"Yessir!"
"Shoot Major Ashfell."
Midnight gaped.
Thankfully the security didn't immediately carry out the Fuhrer's orders.
"Sir?" said one of them. "It's a power outage…"
The Fuhrer clicked his tongue. "I understand perfectly what is going on. I ordered you to shoot him."
"It's too crowded in here, Sir. Someone else could get hurt."
"Sir, please," said Ashfell, his voice tight with fear. "That seems… that seems a bit harsh. What have I done?" Ashfell's legendary composure had fallen apart. For some reason seeing Ashfell afraid was FAR more terrifying than anything the Fuhrer had ever said or implied to Midnight. It was positively ugly. It was wrong.
"He got to you didn't he, this is a trap." The Fuhrer backed himself further into a corner. "Men I said SHOOT him!"
"Sir," said one of the security. "I'm afraid we aren't authorized to summarily execute someone without a direct threat being made to you."
"Oh, he's threatening me alright." The Fuhrer's eyes looked around between the men crammed in the elevator. "Did that bastard get the guards too? Are they all under an array? How many are part of this?" It was getting hot the elevator and the air had become rather stale.
The Fuhrer's eyes suddenly focused on Midnight. The alchemist couldn't move. "Did you do this for him? When did you decide to join his side? Or did one of them get an array on you as well?"
"Sir," Midnight said. "You are wrong, this is just a power failure, nothing more."
"Don't insult my intelligence, Midnight. You don't want me dead, I know that much. You'd all be executed if I died. I know what you are up to, and you know I know what you are up to. So why don't we just end this charade.
"Ashfell, there is no excuse for letting yourself come under that array. You knew better. Midnight I excuse you. You can't help your gullible nature. I knew that was a risk when I gave you this responsibility. I'm disappointed in you, but if you aid me, I won't seek your execution. You will have your certification stripped, and you'll be demoted, but I'll make sure your sentence is light."
He turned to the bewildered security. "And as for you lot, I ordered that you SHOOT this man and none of you have complied. You need no more word other than mine. SHOOT him. NOW."
Hesitantly one of the security unholstered his gun and then pressed it up against the side of Ashfell's head. Midnight could see the man's hands shaking a bit. Ashfell had his hands up in surrender. He wasn't doing anything the least bit threatening.
Cooperate and I'll get off. Fight and I'll get shot now. Live… not live…
Al.
If we fail, Al will be executed.
No.
Midnight touched the array on his belt.
Five people were a lot to encompass at one time. It took all of his concentration, but he was rewarded to see every one of the security mens eyes become suddenly very reflective. The Fuhrer growled and tried to grab him, but there were two bodies between them.
Midnight was already at the limit of his capacity; he wasn't going to be able to hold this for long, but with just a bit more effort...
The Fuhrer's eyes started glowing red in reflected light. It seemed oddly appropriate.
Midnight noticed one of the security drop to the floor. Then another. Midnight had to keep concentrating but he managed to focus enough to see what Ashfell was doing. The man had a handkerchief in his hand and he was grabbing each of the blinded security firmly by the head and drugging them with the chloroform.
He's good, thought Midnight. And in that moment, his concentration slipped a bit too much. One of the security blinked back his sight and noticed the bodies on the floor and Ashfell with a cloth in his hand, held out as far from his own face as possible. "You!" He pulled his gun and aimed at Ashfell. Midnight pushed him, and Ashfell simultaneously stepped on the limp bodies to grabbed him in a clumsy bear hug. Between the two of them they were able hold his gun at a safe angle until Ashfell could administer the anesthetic.
Midnight caught a faint whiff of the stuff and his head felt suddenly funny. Ashfell noticed it, too. The car was too closed in. They had to get rid of the thing soon or else ALL of them would pass out. "Can you make us a hole?" Ashfell asked.
Midnight reached into his pocket for the chalk he always carried. He quickly drew an array on the wall of the elevator, then touched it. It lit up and the metal melted away leaving a hole. Ashfell thrust his hand through and dropped the cloth out into the shaft.
"Well," said Goddard, picking himself up off the floor, and straightening himself out. "I guess you have me for now." He raised his hands in defeat. "But you will be caught and when that happens I will watch your executions."
My execution…
I'm in too deep now, and yet that felt like a relief, as though some awful decision had been taken away from him. The tension that had grown to painful levels seemed to break and subside.
Midnight let out an ironic peal of laugher.
RICOCHET
Ed tore down the stairs, adrenaline making his blood sing in his ears. It felt good. It felt like flying. And he was flying now, up over the rail and down onto the landing below, bending at the knee just so to take the impact.
His lungs burned, his belly burned, and he felt like a boiler ready to explode. He'd never seen the Fuhrer before, never heard his voice, never even noticed his picture in the paper. Perhaps he was the only person in the country who could say that. But it didn't matter, because he would be the one to pull that man down.
Ed pushed past soldiers twice his weight and more than a full head higher. His palm tingled in anticipation of a slap and the warm surge of alchemy rushing through his body. He rounded one more landing, now ahead of the slapping feet of the arrayed soldiers. He was going to be first.
It was time to get physical.
The Fuhrer's security saw him coming, heard him coming. How could they not. They weren't sure what was going on, but they weren't paid to be tentative. Their guns were out and ready before Ed could jump over the final rail. Ed actually felt the wind from one of the bullets (That's close) before he landed squarely on the shoulders of one of the men.
He clapped his hands on the way down and then fell forwards to the floor, pressing the virtual array into the concrete. With a loud groan the floor melted and moved, surged up like a great wave, and knocked the men off their feet and into the walls. One went tumbling down the steps to the next landing.
The rest of his people were catching up, guns out.
No one cried "Surrender."
No one asked that they drop their weapons.
In fact no one spoke at all. Off balance, two got off a wild second shot, only to receive bullets back. One in the stomach, the other in the knee. And they were down. The other three were subdued rather quickly.
Ed transmuted some rope from the fire hose so that Roy's people could secure the soldiers. He looked up to see Roy and Al rounding the stairs cautiously. He gave them a thumbs up sign and a grin.
Roy put his mouth to the radio. "Five in the stairwell down. Open door to sub four. Over."
"Roger," came Devers voice. "We got a panic button going off. I'm initiating building wide lock down. That should buy you some time, but don't count on much. Do what you need to do quickly. I'd say you got about 10 minutes to finish this mission before you will face a lot of heavy artillery. Over."
"Understood, over."
The lights suddenly flickered from red to white again. Without anyone touching it, the lock suddenly clicked and Ed heard a very quiet buzzing noise. He grabbed the handle and pushed. The door was heavy but well balanced and it made a rather satisfying clang when it banged against the wall.
Sub four was the prison level. There were some noises coming from the doors to the cells, and Ed thought he saw a pair of eyes looking through the small barred window on one of them. He'd known there were other prisoners, but he never knew why they were there or what use they were being put to. Now he wondered whether he should take a moment to break them out.
No, that wasn’t his job, and they needed less chaos and confusion not more. When Roy was Fuhrer, he would insist his lover figure out what their story was, but for now they could stay. He'd been in a cell like that one for months… it wasn't that bad.
The elevator was what needed his attention right now. Roy and Al hung back in the stairwell while Ed and several of Roy's people flattened themselves to either side of the elevator doors. Ed saw a radio hanging at the belt of one of the men and grabbed it, bringing it to his lips.
"Devers open the elevator doors."
The light blinked in here as well and suddenly the Elevator seemed to come to life. After aching seconds the doors began to open. The men around him turned, aiming their guns inwards. Ed called out from cover, "Put DOWN your weapons and surrender."
"We are secure in here," came a voice from inside. Ed recognized it to be Ashfell's. He saw the men relaxing, weapons still aimed, but no longer just a hair away from firing.
The radio he was holding squawked again. "Our position is being assaulted," came Devers voice. "We can hold them off for a couple of minutes, but not longer."
Ed stepped out and looked into the elevator car. He saw men lying in heaps on the floor, and Ashfell and Midnight standing. Against the wall was a middle aged man with cold eyes belying the surrender made by his upraised hands.
"Did you get the men in the stairwell?"
"Yes."
"Any injuries."
"Two on their side, none on ours."
"Excellent," said Ashfell. He turned and put a hand on the Fuhrer pushing him out the door and into the hall. "I believe sir, you wanted to see that jail cell?"
The Fuhrer looked straight at Ed, assessing him coldly. "Don't think your genius will get you off this time," he said through tightly clenched teeth. "You or your brother."
Ashfell pushed him on until they reached the cell. Ashfell slid a metal card into the lock and it clicked. He then pushed the cell open.
It was the first time in a week that Ed had seen his jail cell. The last time he was here, he was rubbing Roy's back, reasurring him that all would be well. The room looked exactly the same. Same books, same beds, same everything. It was as if the week had never happened… Until the Fuhrer walked in and turned around, staring defiantly at him.
"Where is Mustang," asked the Fuhrer.
"He'll be here soon enough," said Ashfell.
"Hold him still," said Ed. "Might as well get this started now." He pressed his hands together.
The Fuhrer did not hold still, but Ashfell was bigger and stronger, and soon the Fuhrer's coat had been pried open, his shirt lifted and his pale, flabby belly exposed.
Ed pressed the palms of his hands against the Fuhrer's flesh. He felt muscles under the fat, tightening under the palm of his hand. The Fuhrer wrested free of Ashfell's grip but the damage was already done. The array, neat and perfect stood in stark contrast to the almost blue flesh beneath.
Ashfell let him go. Flushing the Fuhrer pulled his shirt back down giving the two of them the evilest look.
"It's your own fault," said Ed. "You go making weapons like this, you should make sure the ones making them for you are on your side."
"Don’t get smart with me," said the Fuhrer. "Your time is coming. You think anyone is going to accept me when I'm arrayed? They'll know something is wrong. There is no way you can win this fight."
"Oh," drawled Roy from the door. "I'd say things were looking well for us."
"It's on him," said Ed,
"My turn, I guess," said Al stepping past Roy and heading towards the Fuhrer.
Then he stopped, his eyes wide. Ed spun around in time to see the Fuhrer pull a gun from his coat pocket and level it directly at Roy.
"NOOOO!" Ed screamed and did the only thing that at that moment made any sense. He jumped between the gun and Roy.
Everything slowed down.
First a noise, deafeningly loud, echoed off the walls of the cell. Ed immediately felt a sudden intense pressure on his automail arm where the bullet ricocheted off. He winced in pain, but also felt triumph. He'd blocked the shot. Roy was safe.
Ashfell dived in at the same time, grabbing the Fuhrers hand and twisting it brutally backwards. The gun fell out and hit the floor, skittering and spinning to a rest under the desk.
Ed heard a loud thud behind him. He turned and saw Roy still standing, unharmed, but crouched forward, his hands up in a protective gesture, his eyes huge. And Ed kept looking and saw…
Oh god … he saw…
"AL!" Ed threw himself between the Fuhrer and Al as if to retroactively protect his brother. His eyes took in every detail at once: the awkward angle of his brother's arms, the strange splay of his legs, his brother's mouth, open and lax. The closed eyes.
It was so small, hardly even noticeable through the dark blond bangs, but it was there. A drop of blood just above the temple, just below the hairline. So little, like a coin. Like the burn mark from a cigar. So neat. Surely something that tiny couldn't be bad.
Ed scooped his brother up in his arms. Al felt limp and heavy, but alive. Not at all the way a dead body would have felt.
The bullet hole in his head didn't even bleed, but for that single drop.
It couldn't be that bad.
Couldn’t be.
Back to Chapter 30
On to Chapter 32