PAWNS Chapter 4
CATTLE CAR
Lieutenant Heyes ushered the new recruits onto the train. "Hup hup hup, fellows, move in and sit down!" He saw the yellow pants and shirt on one of them, and reached out a hand to snag the boy. "You, front row."
The alchemist. Damn, he hated when he bagged an alchemist. You could never be sure they were fully disarmed. Who knew what they were capable of. Maybe only fixing a broken vase, maybe exploding a building across the street. This one looked harmless enough, baby faced innocent and effeminate, but you could never tell. In fact, Heyes was pretty sure that this one would be more trouble than most since his superiors were so pleased at his induction. At least it was only the one this time.
The alchemist took a seat on the first bench and quickly was joined by a pretty young thing with long blond hair and a rose print dress poking out under her winter parka. The two cuddled together, arms around each other.
Aw, thought Heyes. Alchemist' gotta girlfriend. How precious. They stared at him, her with outright defiance, and him with a calm you-can't-touch-me detachment.
The rest of the recruits took their seats, filling up the entirety of the car. Forty-two fresh-faced conscripts ready for the mill. Everything from snot nosed teens on up to young looking thirty somethings. Men and women mixed in roughly equal numbers. Heyes waited until they had settled down a bit before clapping his hands for their attention.
"Listen up recruits." What little talking quieted down. "My name is Lieutanant Heyes, and I am here to welcome you into the Army. Right now you are nothing but conscripts. I don't know your names, I don't WANT to know your names. I don't care. When you get to the sorting center you will EARN a right to have a name again, but for now, you are meat.
"I am not here to baby sit you. I am not here to hold your hands in the dark. I don't care if your aunt needs you to milk the cow in the morning, or your little sister is waiting for you to return home. Or your wife is about to have a baby. I don't care. You fill my quota. That is all I care about. If you displease me, or any of my people, you WILL be shot, and at the next stop I'll simply pull someone else off the streets to replace you.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
The recruits' eyes were wide now. There was some mumbled reply, but most just looked scared.
"I am your GOD for this trip. I will tell you when to eat, when to sleep. If I tell you to take a piss out the window, you will do so." The last line wasn't an idle threat, the door to the head had gotten jammed once and that was precisely what the recruits had had to do. It had been funny really, especially watching the women try to do it.
He looked over to the alchemist and his girl. "And this ride ain't no love cruise either. You two get too fresh with each other and I'm hauling you back to the baggage car. You can put on a show for any of my people that care to watch. Hope you take requests."
They abruptly separated and put their hands in their laps.
Heyes kept his eyes on the alchemist. "Someone up there loves you, but that's not going to do you any good. If you even LOOK like you are going to make an alchemy circle, I'm going to shoot HER." He nudged his chin toward the girl.
For the first time that blank stare seemed to break, and he saw a note of fear. Good.
He gazed over the conscripts and saw nothing but terror in each. Leaning back on his heels he nodded, satisfied. The hard part was over. This was gonna be a good trip.
HOMECOMING
Ed knew there was something wrong even before he arrived at Risembool. There was a grim pall cast over the peaceful landscape. The train had passed by several hastily built factories. From the look of them, they'd been created at least partially through alchemy, as though someone didn't have the time to actually construct buildings properly.
The station itself seemed less populated than one would normally expect. Trains didn't stop in Risembool that often, and when they did there was usually at least SOMEONE either waiting to get on or off, but when he stepped onto the dusty platform he was alone.
Ed slung his heavy book satchel across his chest and grabbed his suitcase and headed home. He hadn't expected Al to greet him. Al wouldn't have known when he was coming in. He could almost hear Al's soft voice admonishing him for not calling ahead of time. Still his heart was high. He was looking forward to sharing his findings, and after a long comfortable conversation and a good meal, being able to sleep in his own bed.
Ed turned the corner onto his own street, and his heart immediately sank through his shoes. The front windows of the shop were boarded up. Ed started forward then heard a voice from behind him.
"Edward!"
Ed turned. He recognized one of his neighbors. "You are back!"
"Yeah, but what's going on?"
"I don't know where to start… Where have you BEEN? Al said you weren't coming back."
Oh God, had Al misunderstood? Had he tried to follow Ed out to the West? "Where is Al?" asked Ed, grabbing the man's shoulder a bit more roughly than he intended on.
The neighbor pulled away and backed off a few steps. "He's gone. The army came for him almost a week ago."
Ed's face flushed with rage. GODDAMN the Army. Retroactively refusing Ed's resignation was one thing, using Al as a hostage for his compliance was… was… just LOW! Ed let the neighborhood know this in uncertain terms. When he found his composure again the neighbor had fled and shutters had closed in several nearby windows.
Thinking dark thoughts Ed dug his pocket for the key and let himself into his own shop.
The front of the shop was intact, but the back room was a mess. Upstairs was even worse, though there were signs that someone had tried to push things back into place afterwards. Ed threw things back out onto the floor, searching for what he imagined he wouldn't find. Sure enough, the books he'd copied and his older research journals were gone, along with any shred of correspondence he'd kept. Goddamn it, Mustang's letter of acceptance of his resignation wasn't there either.
Ed staggered back and found his knees hitting the back of his bed. He sat down suddenly as the gravity of the situation sunk in.
He didn't WANT to go back to the Army now. The Fuhrer's lust for power seemed unfettered by internal conscience or external opposition. He didn't want to become a pawn to that madman's ambition. Or worse, they could follow up on their threat and put Ed in prison. God, he didn't want to go to prison.
But he couldn’t let Al suffer at their hands either. Oh, hell, Al. I did it to you, again. Why do you always have to pay the price for my mistakes? I never ever wanted you to suffer. Ed covered his face with his metal hand, feeling the hardness of his fingers through the glove. I'll never be forgiven for my sins, he thought. It was crazy of me to think that I could ever live a happy life.
Ed let himself drop back onto the mattress, staring blankly at the empty ceiling. How much will I have to atone? When will it ever be considered equivalent? Huh, God? When will you just say, I've done enough. Let the man rest.
The phone rang. Ed's heart slammed in his chest. They already knew he was here. How could they already know? Who had ratted him out?
The phone rang. Ed continued to stare at the ceiling. What would he say? Five years in prison is what that letter had threatened. Five stupid wasted years. Five horrible boring years. He'd be almost 23 when he got out. And what would Al do during all those years? Would he even be allowed to visit? Would they let him write? Would they even allow him to keep his automail, or would he be left a cripple the entire time?
The phone rang. But what would they do with Al if he didn't. The country was so vast, how could Ed hope to find him without being caught?
The phone rang, and Ed jogged over to picked it up. "I'm here," he said dully into the receiver.
"Ed, oh thank God, boy." It was Pinako. "I heard you had come back to town…. You know then."
"Yeah, I'm back. The assholes took Al. I can't believe it."
"They took more than that, Ed," said Pinako. "They took Winry as well… and a couple dozen others."
Ed's eyes widened, and his voice caught in his chest. "Just because of me?"
"No, it's the conscriptors… Ed." Pinako's voice softened. "I never thought I'd ask you to do this. You have always been such a strong kid. You need to do something about this Fuhrer. Someone has to stop him, bring some sanity back to this world."
"You are asking me to commit treason?"
There was a gasp. "No… no… I'm wrong. Forget what I said. Ed, come up to the house. I've missed you. It's lonely up here with Winry gone."
"I can't," said Ed after a moment. "It's good to hear your voice, Aunty. You are right. I need to do something. I think I know what I have to do. It may be a while before I can talk to you again." And he hung up the phone before she could protest.
They could hold his body, but they couldn’t hold his spirit. They could take away his automail, but they couldn't take away his mind. Even in jail, there might be something he could do to rectify the situation. If he even stayed in jail. Yeah, try to keep him in. He'd broken out of worse places.
Maybe he'd even see Mustang there. The thought was curiously comforting.
And Al would be free. And Winry, too. Yeah he'd go back, but it wouldn’t be for free. If they wanted him without a fight, they better be ready to put out, on HIS terms.
NEGOTIATION
The MP ushered Al into the office with a not-so-gentle shove between his shoulder blades. Al tried not to stagger, wishing he could use his hands for balance, but they were firmly shackled, as were his legs. Although Al's patience was close to breaking and his stomach burned, he kept his face placid and expressionless. His eyes cased the room quickly, noted the large heavily draped windows, the flag on it's long brass pole, the pen lying casually on the desk. Then his eyes settled on the grey colorless eyes of the Lt. Colonel Avery Dunn.
"Elric, yes?" Dunn said. "The younger one, who used to wear the armor. I remember you."
Al vaguely regarded the other man, tall, neither fat nor thin, graying brown hair, all in all a very non-descript appearance. "I don't remember you," he said flatly.
"I've gained a few ranks since you last saw me. And I admit that I probably didn't stand out much.
"However, you did." Dunn pushed a thick file folder into the center of the desk. Al saw his own name on it. "You stood out quite prominently, in fact. I used to wonder why you always wore the armor. Then I came across this file. It all made sense."
Dunn suddenly shifted his eyes to the MP. "You may leave. Wait outside until I summon you. If you hear any disturbance whatsoever come back in."
The MP left, and Dunn nodded towards a chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."
Carefully, so as not to trip, Al made his way to the chair and settled himself in it. He kept his face stony, but he began to wonder what Dunn was up to.
"Human transmutation. You know the penalty for that."
"Death."
"Yes. Actually up to now that's been something of an empty threat. No one has ever been put on trial for backing out. The act itself exacts its own price. True sometimes what's left of the Alchemist has to be put down, but that's more mercy than punishment. But you and your brother did survive… not once but twice, and with your sanity intact, that is… unprecedented. And here you are. No longer armor." He leaned forward scanning Al's features. "So this is what you really look like. Remarkable."
Al shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
"This presents something of a conundrum for us," Dunn continued. "Do we stay strictly to the law, or do we bend it? I personally believe in bending laws that don't serve the State. How about you?"
Al felt relief. This guy didn't want him dead. "What do you want? A hostage for my brother's cooperation?"
"Well I must admit that would make my life simpler. Do you think it will work? Does he love you enough to bargain for you?"
Al was silent.
Dunn chuckled. "No. While that would be nice side benefit, that isn't why you are here. Al… may I call you that?"
"I can't stop you."
"Al then, you passed the State Alchemist's written exam when you were eleven."
"Did I?"
"Oh yes, flying colors, you even did better than your brother. Also, you were as much a part of the human transmutations as your brother."
"But I didn't survive."
"That's disputable. And you were a partner to your brother on most of his missions when he was in the Army. An unofficial partner but a partner none the less. Your researching skills are well documented. As is your ability to think your way out of sticky situations. And you were able to use alchemy as well or better than most Alchemists. As armor."
Dunn tilted his head. "What makes you think that the Army would only be interested in your brother? Do you really so undervalue yourself?"
Al's breath hitched in.
"I see. And actually, of the two of you, you have the far more amenable temperament. This isn't to say I would turn away Fullmetal if he were to walk through the door and give himself up. But I wouldn't consider it a complete loss if he remains out in the wilderness."
"What do you want?"
"Your cooperation. Your brilliance. Your skills. Put to the Army's aims. There is already a bid for your assignment."
"What is in this for me," said Al. "I could just decide not to research or perform alchemy. I'm not much use to you then."
"Well, no you wouldn't be. I suppose I can put you on the front lines like a normal conscript. You could be sent off to a training camp and given the standard two weeks of indoctrination. They would show you how to use a gun and a knife and teach you standard protocol. They would give you the very basics in combat and strategy, nothing you probably don't already know or couldn't figure out for yourself. Then you'd go off to fight. Maybe you'd survive the first month, in fact I dare say, you might do quite well for yourself out there. It is quite possible you could serve the Fuhrer admirably in that regard. But it would be an utter waste of your abilities. A true shame."
"My abilities are mine to waste," Al said quietly. He glanced at the pen left so enticingly out on the desk.
Dunn followed his gaze but made no move. "Maybe. Or maybe instead I might throw you in the brig, and the person I send to the front will be this person. He pulled out another file and laid it on the desk. This file was very thin, almost non-existent. Al saw the name "Rockbell, Winry."
Al couldn't prevent the frown from forming on his face.
Dunn awarded Al a thin smile. "You are fond of her. She's quite a talented Automail Engineer I hear. She could serve the Army quite well here in Central. There is an excellent rehabilitation hospital not more than six blocks from where you would be working. I imagine the two of you could see each other quite often, your shifts allowing."
Al refused to give him any sign that his words might be working, but his mind couldn't stop thinking about seeing Winry, even if just a few hours here and there. Would working for the Army really be so different than working in the shop? And with such a build up about his own abilities, there was little doubt that the work would be a challenging intellectual exercise at minimum.
Dunn continued, "Or perhaps she will get those two weeks training and go to the front. She may make an excellent foot soldier as well. Those arms of hers look quite strong, and she's fiery, I hear."
Al's ears burned. "So if I agree to use my abilities, she will get assigned to a nearby hospital."
"Absolutely."
"I can trust you on that."
"You will be able to trust your own eyes. In fact you agree to this, I'll have that MP take off your shackles and you can walk out of here like any other volunteer."
"Very well then," said Al heavily. "So what now?"
Dunn slid over another paper. "You sign these enlistment papers of your own free will."
Slowly Al put his hands on the desk. His fingers found that pen that had lain there all that time. Dunn watched and they met eyes for a moment, understanding the conflict going on in Al's mind.
Then Al signed his name on the line.
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