Pawns Chapter 16
TATTOO
Winry found she was actually looking forward to getting tattooed. At first she had faked the enthusiasm for appearances sake, but as the days wore on she found herself rubbing the soft area on the back of her hand between the metacarpals for her thumb and forefinger. It was going to hurt, of course, but not too bad, and there was something romantic about sharing a tattoo with the man she loved.
She waited in the lobby of Lab 5 for Al to come for her. The guards were quite used to her by now, giving her papers only the briefest courtesy glances, and patting her down quickly and carelessly. She had nothing in her coat - no, the incriminating evidence was tucked, a little uncomfortably, in her boots this time.
Al came down the hall waving his arms at her. She knew better than to run for him, fast movements made the 5th lab people nervous. So she waited for him to walk over to her and put his arms around her. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," she murmured back, and kissed him. "Let's go."
But Al didn't move. She felt his shoulders heave a little. She broke from the embrace, a little worried. But before she could ask a question she heard a voice behind them. "I'm here. We can go now." She looked up and saw Midnight.
It had been almost three months since she'd last seen him, but she hadn't forgotten his face. The last time she'd seen it, she was busy putting her fist into it. Then the world had gone dark on her. She suppressed an urge to spit on him. This was Al's - well "boss" would probably be the official term, but "keeper" was more accurate. He could make life very hard on them if he chose to. Besides he would be getting his just deserts in a couple of weeks. She could wait.
They walked to the tattoo shop in silence, just the four of them, herself, Al, Midnight and the ever present MP. Very romantic, thought Winry, but she made the best of it, holding Al's hand and pointedly ignoring the others.
"I'll go first," said Al. As expected, Midnight and the MP were far more interested in Al than her. Neither of them gave more than half a glance in her direction when she asked to use the restroom. Inside the stall, she pulled off her shoe and collected the bills, counting it off in her hand, then folding the wad and stuffing it into the pocket of her parka. She laced her boot up again.
Al was still being tattooed when she returned to the main shop. Midnight and the MP weren't even looking in her direction, so she went up to the skinny old man manning the register and caught his eye.
"Are we a go?" she asked quietly.
"Got the money?"
"Here's the first half. The second will come in 2 weeks. My grandma will be bringing it. She'll also pick the item up. Her name is Pinako. She'll mention my name."
The old man nodded. She passed over the money. He turned his body away from the back room and carefully counted it out, then tucked it in the register.
"We'll need ink and an instruction manual as well."
"That's included," said the old man. "Any color?"
"Black will do."
"Thanks."
Winry hurried back to the room where the tattoo artist was pressing a dressing on to Al's hand. "My turn?" she asked.
"Have a seat," said the artist.
QUESTIONS
Midnight waved lazily towards the animal crates in the corner of the room. "They have all been completely trained in standard commands. Sit, come, heel. I assume at least ONE of you has had a dog as a pet at some point?"
There was silence for a moment, then Al spoke up, "My girlfriend had a dog."
Midnight considered the three alchemists wearily. Al sat backwards in a chair, his arms draped over the wooden back, one thumb absentmindedly stroking his healing tattoo. Mustang stood, arms folded, a few feet away, his face at it's most unreadable. And there was Edward, perched up on the desk, slouching and swinging his feet around like six year old. For all the pretext at boredom, his eyes were very hard and focused. He was hanging on Midnight's words.
"Anyway, they have been trained in the commands, but they've also been trained to only take these commands from their trainer, and not from anyone else."
Midnight paced over to the first cage. "Your job will be to come up with and activate an array that will make the dog take commands from someone other than his handler. All of you will brainstorm the array. Either Ed or Al may draw it, but I believe Al should be the one to activate it. Then I will give the dog the commands."
Ed raised his hand like some school kid. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "But what does this have to do with battle fatigue."
Absolutely nothing, thought Midnight, but he could hardly say that. "The problem with battle fatigue is that it is different from person to person. A therapist would need to be able to isolate out the emotions and memories that trigger flashbacks and panic attacks. This array will work like an advance form of hypnotherapy."
Al spoke up. "Why you? Wouldn't it be easier to have the dog obey my commands? I'm the one activating the array after all."
God, these kids were perceptive, but Midnight had an answer for this as well. "Very few therapists are also alchemists. Very few alchemists are therapists. Having one activate the array so the other can do her job makes much more sense than forcing the alchemist to do double duty. In this scenario, I will be standing in for the therapist." And in about three weeks, he thought, the Furher will be playing that role.
Ed's eyes narrowed. "Seems like an awful lot of power. I mean, technically speaking, you can put this array on someone and then order them to do anything. Run naked through the park. Quack like a duck. It seems to me that this has a lot of potential for abuse."
"Which is why we are going to have to fine tune some safeguards in. First safeguard is that the subject only be susceptible to the words of ONE person only. The second will be that the susceptibility last only as long as the array remains on their skin. But the actual suggestions themselves will have to be permanent; otherwise the moment the array is washed off the victim will be back to square one. Have I answered your questions?"
Reluctantly, Ed nodded.
"Does this mean you are going to spending your day with us?" asked Roy.
Midnight smiled. "I'm afraid so. Mustang." And keeping a mighty close eye on YOU my friend.
Mustang nodded and smirked, I accept the challenge, those eyes seemed to say.
DRUG
Al watched Winry tear open her parka again and reach down into the lumpy insulation and bring out the small glass bottle contained within. Unlike most of the things she'd transported, this one was both breakable and not particularly easy to hide in a parka. They had held their breaths while the guard at the front door did his typical pat down. Winry had turned the pockets out before balling the coat and placing it on the table. The guard hadn't even touched the coat, and barely touched her before waving her on.
"What's the dosage?" whispered Al.
"How much does he weigh?"
"I guess 180, 190 give or take."
"I'd use the whole bottle."
She fetched the mayonnaise jar from the refrigerator and gently pushed the small bottle into the soft white mess. "Be careful when you go to make your next sandwich," she advised.
"Won't they miss it?" murmured Al in her ear.
"Yes, but stuff goes missing all the time at the hospital. All the time. Last week half our morphine up and vanished overnight. Unless someone looks real hard, they'll just think it was sold on the black market."
"Date rape drug, eh."
Winry socked his arm. "Don't you even think that!"
Al laughed until he fell on to the mattress. "But gosh, he's soooo sexy, Winry."
"I'll give you sexy, "she said and joined him on the bed.
WINRY'S ROUTINE
The week passed uneventfully. Mornings she woke, washed up, and got ready for the day. She spent a few minutes checking on her patients, avoiding Mr. Sugar's roaming hand, ignoring his innuendo. Then on to the real work: making the automail. She got in lunch when she could. Then repeated.
Sometime in the afternoon, she took something apart. Two days ago it was an extension cord. It had been in the broom closet for who knows how long. It had dust on it. Now it was in three pieces, one of which she was threading into her much abused parka.
Tonight after work, she'd walk by the deli and get cold cuts and baguettes for dinner. She'd walk over to the 5th lab, let the guards look at her dinner and lightly paw her over, and then it was on to a delightful evening of mischief of several types in Al's room.
Al was getting nervous about the whole thing. She wished that she could help him, but she couldn't. This was something he'd have to deal with himself. Although she would never tell Al this, she found his worry to be slightly annoying. After all, she'd been risking her butt over and over again for weeks on this plan. If the idiots who manned the 5th lab had ever got it into their heads to do a real pat down, she would have been toast. Not to mention the fact that she was stealing things left and right from her workplace. She could have gotten caught so many times, and any one of those times would have spelled disaster.
She dealt with it.
Roy's plan was going to work. Al was going to make it work. In fact it was going to be stunning success, and Al should darned well BELIEVE that.
Instead he bit his lip and faced the window, and looked deep into his own head.
After sex, she used needle nosed pliers and electrical tape to splice the extension cord together again. Al put it into the rather well stuffed mattress and tucked down the sheets again.
It was getting to be routine.
"This is going to work," she breathed into his ear. "Mustang may be an ass, but he knows his stuff."
"We can't use hand signs anymore. I just wish I could confirm things with him. What if there is something small but vital that I've forgotten."
Winry just patted his shoulder. "Don't doubt yourself. You are smart. You can trouble shoot things yourself. You don't need him."
She just wished she could get Al to believe it.
PINACO'S VISIT
She'd forgotten what a pain it was to travel. The lines for papers were bad enough, but the three day train ride had stretched into four after no less then eight delays.
She'd forgotten how hard the seats were. She'd forgotten how cold and drafty the cars were. She'd forgotten how rotten the food was - or maybe she hadn't forgotten that one. Perhaps it was just that this time the fare was particularly bad. As a result she checked into her hotel room in Central feeling very out of sorts, nauseated, and more than a little sore.
Some days she felt very old and frail, and it seemed like the world had a personal vendetta against her.
She had known that the military was probably going to take Ed away. She worried that Al would somehow fall into their greedy hands, but never had she guessed that they would snatch Winry, too. Kidnapped, literally, under her own nose. And Pinako felt more than a little guilt about that. Had she just kept her temper in check, and not let on how valuable Winry was, her grandchild might be home at this moment, making lunch and working on the family business.
She missed Winry. It made her belly burn to think that after taking both her children, the army had found a way to take her only grandchild as well. It wasn't fair.
Doing this favor for Winry was the least she could do to make up for it. The money was no small potatoes, but Pinako could afford it. She did feel a bit awkward wandering around the dangerous city streets with so much in her wallet. All the military police didn't make her feel any safer.
The first thing she did after checking into her hotel room, even before seeing Winry herself, was look up the tattoo parlor. She found it without too much difficulty, even thought Winry's directions were a bit hazy. The man at the register took her money and slid over a brown paper bag. Pinako looked inside.
A tattoo machine, needles, two bottles of ink and an instruction manual. Lordy, what was the girl up to?
Shaking her head she left the shop and went to her next destination - a pastry shop. She browsed for a few minutes before buying a dozen donuts and asking for their largest bag to carry them in. She stopped at the park, then carefully pushed the tattooing supplies to the bottom of the large bag and arranged the pastries over them.
So cloak and dagger, thought Pinako. I'm really too old for this. And honestly, will anyone be following me? She looked around the park, but saw no one paying her any attention whatsoever. Ah the benefits of being old. One does tend to become invisible.
She finally made her way to the hospital. A very nice MP lead her to the workroom where Winry and a dozen others fitted together automail, in an almost factory-like setting. The MP didn't even look in the bag.
"Granny!" shrieked Winry and ran to embrace her.
"Lordy, girl, don't squeeze too hard, my stomach is still a bit off from the train ride."
"Oh, Granny, I missed you so much." Winry was crying. Poor thing. How scary this must all be to her.
"Do you have time for lunch? I brought some sweets."
"Oh, YES!"
Winry brought Pinako back to her room. Pinako took in the three sets of bunk beds crammed into a tiny room and shook her head. "They don't treat you too well here do they."
"Well," said Winry. "The hours aren't too bad, but the ambiance is pretty horrible." Winry dug into the treats. "Close the door for me, please?" She lifted out the bag.
Pinako tested her stomach on a glazed donut while she watched her brilliant granddaughter turn a rather compact and elegant tattooing machine into about a hundred small unrecognizable parts. "You should label those, dear," she cautioned.
"Oh granny, like I could ever forget where something went."
"I've known you to forget a screw now and then."
"I can't label them." Winry had turned serious. She got some oil cloth pouches and began parceling out the pieces. Half of them she shoved into the lining of her parka, the rest she shoved into a hole in her pillow. She then got out the needle and thread and sewed everything closed again.
"Who is going to get tattooed," Pinako asked after a while.
"No one you know." Winry's eyes were twinkling. "Shhhh. It's our secret."
"So I figured."
Winry took a donut and bit down. "Thank you Granny. I owe you a lot."
"Just get yourself back home as soon as you can. It's hard doing it all myself," said Pinako. "Really hard."
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On to Chapter 17