One Chance
Roy took another sip of his bourbon without a word. He had been in the Green Dragon for some time, keeping his head bowed and giving the impression that he wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings. However, he was in fact fully alert, waiting patiently for the bartender to give him what the disguised colonel had come here for in the first place.
Finally, a series of footfalls made him look up, locking his gaze on the bartender.
“Do you have it?” he asked at once.
“Yeah, I do,” the bartender replied, handing Roy a small piece of paper. “Where’s the money?”
“Right here,” Roy said, tossing an envelope that he dug out from one of the inner pockets on his jacket. “And there’s also an extra something for your trouble.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow, and he picked up the envelope in order to check its contents. He let out a small whistling sound from his lips.
“Heh. You’re one generous man,” he commented. “It almost makes me wonder why you want to break into the Führer’s house.”
Roy frowned, and the bartender raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
“I said almost,” he pointed out.
That, Roy supposed, had settled matters. He held up the piece of paper. “So this is an exact blueprint of his house?”
“Down to the last nail on the walls,” the bartender replied. “I never hand out bad goods.”
“I’ll take your words for it. The bourbon is certainly good,” Roy said, and he picked up his fedora hat. “Thank you for your time.”
“Sure thing,” the bartender said, securing the envelope in a small secret drawer. “Come back if you’ve got another job for me.”
Roy didn’t answer; he just waved once in goodbye and exited the Green Dragon. He smiled when he looked at the time in his watch but, deep down, his heart was actually racing.
If everything went according to schedule, Maes and Armstrong should be making their move… now.
Maes and Armstrong walked down the street, keeping alert at all times and with their guns buckled at their side. As soon as they found the house they had been looking for, they walked straight to it, aware that the man they wanted to speak to was already inside; the light of the house was on.
“Let me do the talking,” Maes said, and Armstrong nodded his understanding. While the major kept his eyes on their surroundings in case of unwelcome surprises, the brigadier general walked up to the doorstep and knocked. Maes kept his motions calm, almost reserved, even though he knew that he was about to do something very crazy.
The door opened, revealing a short man in his late sixties standing at the threshold. The man blinked a couple of times in mild surprise, then straightened his glasses nervously.
“Uh… may I help you?”
“Mr. Chairman, I’m Brigadier General Maes Hughes, and I want to file accusations to a superior officer within the army.”
The chairman frowned. “That’s a strange request. These sort of accusations are usually handled by the Führer himself.”
Hughes felt his heart hammering in chest. It was now or never.
“The superior officer that I wish to lay accusations against is the Führer King Bradley.”
Hughes was sure that he heard the chairman let out a small squeak of shock.
“Are you serious? You want to accuse the Führer?” The short man exclaimed incredulously. “That is unheard of!”
“I wouldn’t oppose him if I didn’t already have legitimate reasons to follow that path,” Hughes answered, keeping his expression unreadable.
“I… see,” the chairman murmured, almost overwhelmed at such news. “I do hope you have evidence to support your accusations though.”
Hughes dug out several papers out of his pocket and held them up so that the chairman could see them.
“I’m sure you’ll find these quite enlightening,” he said. “May the major and I step inside?”
The chairman swallowed hard; nevertheless he beckoned both men inside the house.
Dante sat at her boudoir, applying her makeup in slow, careful motions so that even the last speck of imperfection was covered flawlessly. The silence of that particular ritual was interrupted, however, when Envy opened the door with a loud bang.
“Tut, tut, Envy,” she said, hardly fazed. “Didn’t I ever tell you to knock on the door first? A woman needs her privacy, you know.”
“SHUT UP!” Envy shouted, and he stomped up to her, his violet eyes filled with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me that he was here?”
“You were still pretending to be Rose,” Dante answered calmly, almost apathetically. “And I should remind you that you still are. Where’s the baby?”
“Don’t worry; your precious baby is sleeping,” Envy said, and he placed both hands on the nightstand next to Dante. “We agreed that he was my kill. No one else’s!”
“I’m not just anybody else,” the woman said, her brows creasing to a frown for the first time since Envy walked into the room. “And I had as many reasons to avenge myself as you did.” Envy opened his mouth to speak, but she proved faster. “Besides… you still get to kill his sons once we’re done with them.” Her lips tugged to a smile, and she reached for Envy’s face to caress it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Her tone was soft, and it had the power to subdue the homunculus’s anger. Smiling wickedly, he nodded and knelt down next to the woman in order to wrap his arms around her.
“I’ve told you, Envy. Mommy knows best,” Dante continued, running her hand through Envy’s unruly strands. “Just do what I say and we’ll get what we both want.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good.” Dante pricked up her ears when she heard the characteristic sound of a whimper. “What is that?”
Envy huffed in dismay. “That would be Gluttony. He’s been snivelling ever since Lust left.”
“I see,” Dante mused aloud. She contemplated matters for a moment, and she eventually reached to a decision. “Bring him here, Envy. It’s high time I corrected a mistake.”
Envy didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up and exited, only to return a few minutes later with Gluttony. The round homunculus kept wringing his hands nervously, his gaze drifting in all directions in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Lust.
“Where is she?” he asked. “Where’s my Lust?”
“Poor, poor Gluttony,” Dante declared, finally getting up from her chair. She circled the round homunculus, regarding him with quite the scrutiny. “So gullible and dependent… you really don’t have much use to me in this state, do you?”
“Lust…” Gluttony whined softly.
“Don’t worry, you’ll forget her soon. Envy.”
Understanding, Envy grabbed Gluttony from behind, forcing the round homunculus’s jaws open to reveal his tongue. Once Dante saw clearly the tattoo of the ouroborous on the appendage, she placed both hands on it and activated it.
The series of growls that started emanating from Gluttony’s throat was enough as a sign to Dante that the alchemical reaction was a success, and she smirked malevolently.
Roy found a comfortable place underneath a lit street-lamp and rested his back against the wall. Once he made sure that no one was watching him, he fixed his eyes on the plan that the bartender had given him. Though it was written on a small, cheap piece of paper, Roy had to admit that the sketch was detailed and easy to read. And, if the information was correct as the bartender claimed to be, that it wouldn’t be difficult to infiltrate the Führer’s house.
It was just as well, for he had only one chance to make his scheme work, and it was today.
The sound of the great clock in the centre of the city chimed seven times, indicating the time. Roy folded the piece of paper and put it back in his pocket before walking up to Riza. The woman stood in a relaxed manner next to a small black car, still in her disguise and reading a newspaper.
Riza turned around when she heard him approaching, her brown eyes locking on her commanding officer’s as she awaited his orders.
“Start the engine. It’s time to go.”
Riza nodded her understanding and she stepped inside the driver’s seat. A few moments later, Roy was inside the car as well, and both of them set off towards the outskirts of Central in silence. The only thing that could be heard was the radio announcer, telling of the latest news of the day.
“… Amestrian soldiers have been sent towards the Drachmanian borders in an official declaration of war with the neighbouring country, after suspicions of espionage and sabotage arose on the surface. The Führer’s secretary, Colonel Juliette Douglas, among others, is considered to be part of said conspiracy, but the Führer himself has refused to make a statement as of yet. He has retired early in order to celebrate his son’s birthday…”
Footsteps echoed hollowly in the abandoned building as Ed, Al and Beregond walked on, looking in every direction to catch sight of anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing to be seen though; just broken beams and glasses everywhere.
“Brother,” Al whispered, as if afraid to break the silence around them. “Did those people worship the Sun God, like in Liore?”
“I don’t think so,” Ed said. “I don’t see any statues of his ugly mug around.”
“There aren’t,” Beregond said, overhearing the conversation. “According to your father, the ‘heretics’ used those buildings to hide.”
“Nice,” Ed replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “So how are we supposed to find a secret entrance in a place that’s been collecting dust for the last 500 years?”
“I have something in mind,” Beregond replied, pointing to the direction of a small altar. Indeed, the dust in that area was swept away, an indication that the stone slabs were removable. And, when Beregond moved closer so he could have a better look at them, he saw a small array that sealed the stone together.
“It shouldn’t be too hard to break,” the Gondorian mused aloud, placing his right hand on the seal. However, he stopped himself at the last minute as the entire situation was starting to feel all too familiar, making Beregond recall Lust’s words to him.
In our beginning, we meet our end.
Could it be…?
“Beregond? What’s wrong?” Al asked.
Beregond looked up. The suit of armour was standing next to him, regarding him curiously. Even Ed was visibly frowning, trying to understand what was in Beregond’s mind. The Gondorian clenched his jaw, berating himself. This was not the time to make philosophical theories!
“Nothing,” he finally said, and he concentrated on the array. In the next moment, the seal was broken with a loud snap and Beregond stepped back. “Al?”
“Way ahead of you,” the suit of armour said, and he grabbed the slabs with both hands, moving them away as if they weighed nothing.
Ed looked at the steps that were revealed before the three companions. The descent looked steep, but at least the torches on the walls provided enough light for them to see.
“Well, it looks like we’re on the right track,” the teen alchemist commented, and he clapped his hands. Once he transmuted his automail into a blade, he boldly stepped forward with Beregond and Al following close to his heels.
Finally, a series of footfalls made him look up, locking his gaze on the bartender.
“Do you have it?” he asked at once.
“Yeah, I do,” the bartender replied, handing Roy a small piece of paper. “Where’s the money?”
“Right here,” Roy said, tossing an envelope that he dug out from one of the inner pockets on his jacket. “And there’s also an extra something for your trouble.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow, and he picked up the envelope in order to check its contents. He let out a small whistling sound from his lips.
“Heh. You’re one generous man,” he commented. “It almost makes me wonder why you want to break into the Führer’s house.”
Roy frowned, and the bartender raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
“I said almost,” he pointed out.
That, Roy supposed, had settled matters. He held up the piece of paper. “So this is an exact blueprint of his house?”
“Down to the last nail on the walls,” the bartender replied. “I never hand out bad goods.”
“I’ll take your words for it. The bourbon is certainly good,” Roy said, and he picked up his fedora hat. “Thank you for your time.”
“Sure thing,” the bartender said, securing the envelope in a small secret drawer. “Come back if you’ve got another job for me.”
Roy didn’t answer; he just waved once in goodbye and exited the Green Dragon. He smiled when he looked at the time in his watch but, deep down, his heart was actually racing.
If everything went according to schedule, Maes and Armstrong should be making their move… now.
Maes and Armstrong walked down the street, keeping alert at all times and with their guns buckled at their side. As soon as they found the house they had been looking for, they walked straight to it, aware that the man they wanted to speak to was already inside; the light of the house was on.
“Let me do the talking,” Maes said, and Armstrong nodded his understanding. While the major kept his eyes on their surroundings in case of unwelcome surprises, the brigadier general walked up to the doorstep and knocked. Maes kept his motions calm, almost reserved, even though he knew that he was about to do something very crazy.
The door opened, revealing a short man in his late sixties standing at the threshold. The man blinked a couple of times in mild surprise, then straightened his glasses nervously.
“Uh… may I help you?”
“Mr. Chairman, I’m Brigadier General Maes Hughes, and I want to file accusations to a superior officer within the army.”
The chairman frowned. “That’s a strange request. These sort of accusations are usually handled by the Führer himself.”
Hughes felt his heart hammering in chest. It was now or never.
“The superior officer that I wish to lay accusations against is the Führer King Bradley.”
Hughes was sure that he heard the chairman let out a small squeak of shock.
“Are you serious? You want to accuse the Führer?” The short man exclaimed incredulously. “That is unheard of!”
“I wouldn’t oppose him if I didn’t already have legitimate reasons to follow that path,” Hughes answered, keeping his expression unreadable.
“I… see,” the chairman murmured, almost overwhelmed at such news. “I do hope you have evidence to support your accusations though.”
Hughes dug out several papers out of his pocket and held them up so that the chairman could see them.
“I’m sure you’ll find these quite enlightening,” he said. “May the major and I step inside?”
The chairman swallowed hard; nevertheless he beckoned both men inside the house.
Dante sat at her boudoir, applying her makeup in slow, careful motions so that even the last speck of imperfection was covered flawlessly. The silence of that particular ritual was interrupted, however, when Envy opened the door with a loud bang.
“Tut, tut, Envy,” she said, hardly fazed. “Didn’t I ever tell you to knock on the door first? A woman needs her privacy, you know.”
“SHUT UP!” Envy shouted, and he stomped up to her, his violet eyes filled with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me that he was here?”
“You were still pretending to be Rose,” Dante answered calmly, almost apathetically. “And I should remind you that you still are. Where’s the baby?”
“Don’t worry; your precious baby is sleeping,” Envy said, and he placed both hands on the nightstand next to Dante. “We agreed that he was my kill. No one else’s!”
“I’m not just anybody else,” the woman said, her brows creasing to a frown for the first time since Envy walked into the room. “And I had as many reasons to avenge myself as you did.” Envy opened his mouth to speak, but she proved faster. “Besides… you still get to kill his sons once we’re done with them.” Her lips tugged to a smile, and she reached for Envy’s face to caress it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Her tone was soft, and it had the power to subdue the homunculus’s anger. Smiling wickedly, he nodded and knelt down next to the woman in order to wrap his arms around her.
“I’ve told you, Envy. Mommy knows best,” Dante continued, running her hand through Envy’s unruly strands. “Just do what I say and we’ll get what we both want.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Good.” Dante pricked up her ears when she heard the characteristic sound of a whimper. “What is that?”
Envy huffed in dismay. “That would be Gluttony. He’s been snivelling ever since Lust left.”
“I see,” Dante mused aloud. She contemplated matters for a moment, and she eventually reached to a decision. “Bring him here, Envy. It’s high time I corrected a mistake.”
Envy didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up and exited, only to return a few minutes later with Gluttony. The round homunculus kept wringing his hands nervously, his gaze drifting in all directions in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Lust.
“Where is she?” he asked. “Where’s my Lust?”
“Poor, poor Gluttony,” Dante declared, finally getting up from her chair. She circled the round homunculus, regarding him with quite the scrutiny. “So gullible and dependent… you really don’t have much use to me in this state, do you?”
“Lust…” Gluttony whined softly.
“Don’t worry, you’ll forget her soon. Envy.”
Understanding, Envy grabbed Gluttony from behind, forcing the round homunculus’s jaws open to reveal his tongue. Once Dante saw clearly the tattoo of the ouroborous on the appendage, she placed both hands on it and activated it.
The series of growls that started emanating from Gluttony’s throat was enough as a sign to Dante that the alchemical reaction was a success, and she smirked malevolently.
Roy found a comfortable place underneath a lit street-lamp and rested his back against the wall. Once he made sure that no one was watching him, he fixed his eyes on the plan that the bartender had given him. Though it was written on a small, cheap piece of paper, Roy had to admit that the sketch was detailed and easy to read. And, if the information was correct as the bartender claimed to be, that it wouldn’t be difficult to infiltrate the Führer’s house.
It was just as well, for he had only one chance to make his scheme work, and it was today.
The sound of the great clock in the centre of the city chimed seven times, indicating the time. Roy folded the piece of paper and put it back in his pocket before walking up to Riza. The woman stood in a relaxed manner next to a small black car, still in her disguise and reading a newspaper.
Riza turned around when she heard him approaching, her brown eyes locking on her commanding officer’s as she awaited his orders.
“Start the engine. It’s time to go.”
Riza nodded her understanding and she stepped inside the driver’s seat. A few moments later, Roy was inside the car as well, and both of them set off towards the outskirts of Central in silence. The only thing that could be heard was the radio announcer, telling of the latest news of the day.
“… Amestrian soldiers have been sent towards the Drachmanian borders in an official declaration of war with the neighbouring country, after suspicions of espionage and sabotage arose on the surface. The Führer’s secretary, Colonel Juliette Douglas, among others, is considered to be part of said conspiracy, but the Führer himself has refused to make a statement as of yet. He has retired early in order to celebrate his son’s birthday…”
Footsteps echoed hollowly in the abandoned building as Ed, Al and Beregond walked on, looking in every direction to catch sight of anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing to be seen though; just broken beams and glasses everywhere.
“Brother,” Al whispered, as if afraid to break the silence around them. “Did those people worship the Sun God, like in Liore?”
“I don’t think so,” Ed said. “I don’t see any statues of his ugly mug around.”
“There aren’t,” Beregond said, overhearing the conversation. “According to your father, the ‘heretics’ used those buildings to hide.”
“Nice,” Ed replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “So how are we supposed to find a secret entrance in a place that’s been collecting dust for the last 500 years?”
“I have something in mind,” Beregond replied, pointing to the direction of a small altar. Indeed, the dust in that area was swept away, an indication that the stone slabs were removable. And, when Beregond moved closer so he could have a better look at them, he saw a small array that sealed the stone together.
“It shouldn’t be too hard to break,” the Gondorian mused aloud, placing his right hand on the seal. However, he stopped himself at the last minute as the entire situation was starting to feel all too familiar, making Beregond recall Lust’s words to him.
In our beginning, we meet our end.
Could it be…?
“Beregond? What’s wrong?” Al asked.
Beregond looked up. The suit of armour was standing next to him, regarding him curiously. Even Ed was visibly frowning, trying to understand what was in Beregond’s mind. The Gondorian clenched his jaw, berating himself. This was not the time to make philosophical theories!
“Nothing,” he finally said, and he concentrated on the array. In the next moment, the seal was broken with a loud snap and Beregond stepped back. “Al?”
“Way ahead of you,” the suit of armour said, and he grabbed the slabs with both hands, moving them away as if they weighed nothing.
Ed looked at the steps that were revealed before the three companions. The descent looked steep, but at least the torches on the walls provided enough light for them to see.
“Well, it looks like we’re on the right track,” the teen alchemist commented, and he clapped his hands. Once he transmuted his automail into a blade, he boldly stepped forward with Beregond and Al following close to his heels.
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