Chapter 1: Riza Hawkeye
Chapter Text
“So you became a soldier after all.”
Riza’s uniform felt light despite all the weight in the formal jacket. It fit snug against her body, nape cool in the house. In that rickety old house that she had been forced to call home. After three years in the military academy, Riza was finally facing her father with the blues decorating her.
And god, what a pathetic state he was in.
“This is why I haven’t ever trusted you with Flame Alchemy.” He spat.
Riza’s face didn’t move. She didn’t truly care what he had to say about it.
With no answer, he continued on. “Is this how you plan on carrying out our legacy? By becoming military. You know what your mother would think?”
“I don’t. You never talked about her.” Riza pointed out. “You only ever spent time wasting away over books and calculations. Where has that gotten you?”
She didn’t even have to look around to tell him what she was talking about. Their house, with all its creaks and brokenness and rot– Berthold Hawkeye was a poor man. Riza, on the other hand, was going to get places. She was going to start by spiting that man. She was going to be petty.
“If you’d just become a State Alchemist, maybe she would be here and I would know how she would react.” Riza said.
“I won’t lower myself to that.” He wheezed.
“There’s not much lower you can get.” Riza shot back.
“You were always– wild, girl.” He took a rasping breath, one Riza could tell was worse than the common cold, “how they whipped you into shape, I will never understand. I– I gave you freedom to do as you pleased, they’re… forcing up upon a mold.”
“Freedom?” Riza scoffed, voice devoid of emotions she did not possess. “Leaving a young girl to teach herself how to act as an adult is the mold I have to live with.”
“You learned how to take care of yourself,” her father grunted out, “is that not the greatest gift a man can give his daughter? Experience is the best way to learn– experimentation.”
“You call a person’s life an experiment.” Riza looked down upon him, in his ratty sheets and sunken face, feeling no pity for that man. “Experiments only apply to science. Nobody should toy with life.”
“Alchemy is life.” He said, voice pained but sure.
“You could have used it to give me a life,” Riza responded, “a good one, without hunger or loneliness or cold. That is the very least a good man would do for his daughter. But you wasted it upon something as trivial as alchemy. Alchemy is not life.”
He stayed silent, head lowering pathetically. Greasy hair dripping downwards, bony fingers trembling and wrinkled hands grabbing at the thin blankets that Riza knew wouldn’t have helped in the slightest against the chill inside the house.
“Go get your State Certification.” She urged. “You’ve ruined one girl’s life over it. With the funds, you could finally complete what you’d always pushed away your daughter for.”
Her father’s head turned upwards, then, as if facing god itself. “I finished it.” He said in a husky voice. Riza paused as he continued. “I finished my research long, long ago.”
Her brows started furrowing– he… finished? How long ago? How old was she, did he just pretend so that he could shove her away? Ignore his dead wife’s daughter, continue his pursuit of knowledge instead of love.
“The greatest, most powerful alchemy, depending on how it’s used…” he whispered, “it could bring devastation. I have perfected it, and now I am convinced.”
Riza swallowed.
“As long as an alchemist lives, he is a creator that pursues the truth. Once an alchemist stops thinking, he dies.” He finally looked down towards her, away from whatever god he was praising. “I died a long time ago–”
Riza didn’t truly care about what he was going to continue monologuing about as he started coughing. Wet, heavy coughs that enveloped his entire body, making the frail man curl in upon himself as he continued hacking, then tumbling out of his bed.
And Riza just stood there.
She was eleven. She was eleven and her first period started and he did nothing but tell her which medicine bottle to take a pill from.
“I finished it, ask the boy he knows where it–” he managed to get out, and Riza noted calmly how there was blood trailing from his mouth. His ailments were worse than she thought. Mustang had written to her a couple of months ago about it, just two or three sentences, and Riza hadn’t cared.
Even standing right there, she didn’t care.
Not even when he started crying. The lines of tears began mixing with blood.
Berthold Hawkeye had always been entwined with flames.
It was his life’s work. He spent decades obsessed with fire. His only passion had been the great infernos of hot red and orange. He needed to understand how it worked and how to use it. He threw away his entire life to be truly interconnected with blazes of combustion and crackles. He’d wanted to be cremated.
Perhaps that was why Riza was glad Roy Mustang decided to bury the man.
He would never get to be embraced by flames. His mortal vessel was to decompose surrounded by cold, hard dirt. And she had no qualms with that.
It was a cooler day. Riza wore her full, formal military uniform again. There were only two people standing at his small grave. Berthold Hawkeye was never one to make connections. His wife was an anomaly compared to the rest of his life. Riza suspected that she was either just as obsessed with fire or enjoyed the fact that he barely bothered her.
The only two people at Berthold Hawkeye’s grave were his daughter, clad in military blues he despised so much, and the boy he’d decided to take in, with a high-collared trench coat that was once his Master’s.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for him.” Riza commented.
Mustang had a babyish face and onyx black eyes. “Don’t worry about it. As his apprentice, I felt it was necessary.”
“What are you going to do now?” She asked.
He continued staring down at the headstone. “I suppose there’s not much else for me to do but return to my Aunt’s. Will you be selling the house?”
“I have no use for it or anything inside.” Riza replied. “I’ll be going to Central.”
“Central, huh?” Mustang smirked, though it was smaller than his usual one.
“I’ll be applying for the State Alchemist exam.” Riza answered. “I was a bored child and the only books around were on alchemy.”
Mustang looked surprised with that. “I hadn’t taken you as an alchemist.”
“Has he rubbed off on you that only males can be alchemists?” Riza huffed, but she knew that would never happen. He was surrounded by talented women; he always boasted about his sisters and his aunt. He’d always offered to help out with chores, even if he had no idea how to do anything related to the countryside, and one of his first questions was about if she was forced to do it because she was a girl. Tugging weeds out of the garden, she responded that her father would have forced her to do it regardless of gender.
“What?! No!” He defended. “I’d never–”
“I know.” She sighed, lips hiding a smile.
Mustang deflated. “The State Alchemist program, and you’re only nineteen?”
“I’d like to think that I could prove him wrong.” Riza stated. “Alchemy can be used for the people. It can be used to protect and serve the people through the military. There can be female alchemists.”
Mustang was watching her, Riza noted. His coal-black eyes always held that determination in them, that fire and as if he was staring at a clear path in his mind. Like it was able to peer into her soul. He turned those eyes back down towards Berthold Hawkeye’s grave.
Mustang’s hair ruffled against his forehead as he pulled the jacket on tighter. “You’re an admirable person, Miss Hawkeye.”
“Flattered,” she replied briskly.
“You want his notes on Flame Alchemy, don’t you. He finished them shortly after you left for the academy.” He was also scarily good at seeing through people. He said it came from being raised by spies. “You are one petty woman, Riza Hawkeye.”
“I’ll take pride in that.” Riza said dryly.
Mustang snickered. “I’m glad the military hasn’t changed you. Would you like to go back to the house?”
“Okay,” she breathed, because Riza hadn’t expected it to be so easy.
The temperature didn’t change as they entered. The house had barely changed since she’d run away– with a couple pieces of worn-down furniture and papers everywhere, books stacked by pile and nothing much else other than that. A stain on the wall from water damage; the long crack in the floor they hadn’t had the money to fix. The counter cracked from one of Mustang’s rebounds when trying out a new array. Chipped plates stacked in the sink. Riza hid a shiver as he took off the coat, leaving him in just a white button-up.
“We should head upstairs– don’t want the neighbours getting the wrong idea,” he huffed a laugh, but it sounded nervous more than anything.
“I beg your pardon?”
Either way, she followed him– the fourth, sixth, and seventh stairs bent dangerously under their weights as they went over to her old bedroom. His footsteps were janky, unsure– Riza never took Mustang as an unsure person. He always had his goals, he knew exactly what he wanted. He entered the house all those years ago with confident steps and childish determination and just one sentence: I want to learn alchemy. Riza entered the room and shut the door behind her– had her father moved his research to her bedroom when she left?
Riza turned around to see Mustang facing away from her, hands fumbling around his chest, removing buttons.
There were questions on her tongue when he finally let the shirt fall from his shoulders.
Her protests were trapped in her throat.
Riza would always be proud that her first thought was not towards what alchemical knowledge there was, but rather to if Mustang was alright. His entire back was etched with a deep red array, a perfect transmutation circle in the centre, with text too small for her to read at her distance decorated all around it. Clear alchemical symbols and some kind of code entrapping it all like a cage, pressed into his back and pulling as he hunched his shoulders. The shape of some of the pieces from the array made Riza mutedly think of a rhinoceros beetle, the inside triangles like two dials towards the end of time– two lives. The flame and the alchemist. All tattooed forever into Mustang’s back.
“What is this?” She demanded, fear sinking in her voice.
“His notes.” Mustang’s voice was clear, cool. “The secrets to Flame Alchemy.”
“He couldn’t have used paper?!” Riza’s tone began to rise. “Do you know what kind of violation this is?! How could you– let him do this to you?”
“Relax, Miss Hawkeye,” Mustang smiled, head turning back towards her, “I agreed with it. It’s pretty badass, even if nobody gets to see it.”
Riza didn’t appreciate his attempt at humour. “It’s not funny!”
He flinched, shoulders jumping.
“Relax,” he repeated, “Master Hawkeye knew he was dying, and he couldn’t just write it down on a piece of paper, it has the potential to be really dangerous. So, I suggested he let me hold onto it, get it?” His voice was harsh, almost cruel, so different from how Riza always thought of him. She swallowed, taking a step closer to him.
He stood completely still with almost military like posture, his breaths even and controlled.
Riza felt her throat tighten. Her father ruined the life of yet another child who barely knew better. Mustang might be driven, and knowledgeable, and stubborn, but he was still naive. He still thought Berthold Hawkeye was a good person, and that alchemy could never be used to hurt. That studying it wouldn’t ruin lives.
“Yes. I understand,” it was out of her hands, and her anger towards that man only grew. “It was your choice. And now you carry this burden.”
“I am Flame Alchemy,” he said, voice with an emotion she could barely tell what it was.
Later, she would reflect that it was pride, or possibly scorn, maybe even wonder. It was hard to tell with Mustang. Years down the line, and Riza would never ask what he was feeling when he stripped half-naked that day, in his Master’s daughter’s bedroom to give her the worst sin in the world. A part of her didn’t want to know.
As she came closer she noticed the details of the design, the delicacy of the fine lines, it truly was a masterpiece. A sick, permanent masterpiece. The arrays, the sentences and code, each symbol and letter and equation spoke out. She could understand it. Berthold Hawkeye was wrong; women could be alchemists. Riza was going to prove him wrong about the military, too.
She began to read that last message, inscribed into Roy Mustang’s skin.
Mustang was not good at sitting quietly.
No, he was a very loud sitter. Patient, of course, stationary, of course, but never quiet. He chattered on and on, asking questions only to answer them himself but always pausing to give Riza the chance to answer. After five beats, only then did he answer them for her to continue talking. Riza wasn’t sure if she would have preferred him staying completely silent instead.
Even if Mustang kept silent, there was no silence around them. Riza sold the house as fast as possible and got a less-than-desirable amount of money for the damn place. In return, Mustang offered to let her live with him at his aunt’s. Over a bar. With multiple women working there, it was never truly silent for long. Even deep into the night, especially deep into the night.
Their days went the same: Mustang would sit leaning forwards, shirtless. Riza had to ignore a man’s half-naked body in front of her for alchemy. She would write down pieces from the tattoo, add her own notes, and hand them over to Mustang, who would start decoding them. Once he finished, they would stop and try to understand that piece together. The alchemist’s daughter and his apprentice.
Another saving grace was that nobody would bother them. None of Mustang’s sisters cared for alchemy and his aunt was trusting him with a nineteen-year-old woman in his room alone for most of the day. When they exited for dinner, Mustang with his high-collared shirt and Riza with her ink-stained fingers, nobody batted an eye as he complained that his back was sore.
She finished perfecting the basics of Flame Alchemy just as her assessment day came along.
Ishval was like a yellow sea.
Dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, nothing above the ocean of gold and it shimmered like the waves of water. The little particles of sand spread with the wind, spitting against her bare skin like droplets of seawater. The air was dry and parched, and Riza turned around to see the small city above the plains. Her next target.
Sand stuck to her body; in crevices and on the heavy blue uniform and she didn’t bother to try and wipe it away. It would just return anyways, and it could help protect her from the sun and sand, the smoke and soot.
She entered the outermost area of the town with a group of soldiers following, those named her men. Paved roads with rubble covering it, smashed windows and laundry still blowing on clotheslines. Things left discarded, in a panic. A residential area. A ghost town, abandoned– though, none of them could be sure of that. That was the work of intelligence, to tell people to leave. Riza looked up at the tops of buildings– some of the glasswork was still intact, the coloured pieces telling a story that she would soon melt.
Riza reached into her pocket, pulling out the silver watch. Its grooves gleamed in the light, the glass turning a solid white for a split second as she popped it open. Just one minute until she was to set off an inferno.
She watched the seconds tick by dispassionately. Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two.
At fifty-five, she snapped the watch closed.
At fifty-seven, she tugged her pristine white gloves over her wrists.
At twelve o’clock exactly, Riza Hawkeye, the Flame Alchemist, snapped her fingers, and the Ishvalan village was blown off the map.
Her next mission was to a particular rebel settlement on the edge of the Dahlia District.
No-man’s-land had been set, the military was already trading fire with the Ishvalans, and the human weapon was sent in to clean them up faster and save money on bullets and bombs. Riza joined their camp at 0600, just as the sun began to rise a blood-red hue against the vast expanse of sand. The distance between their trenches was littered with bodies, indiscriminate of origin or skin colour or clothing. From above, Riza could spot bullets taking out enemies on the other side and never specifically where they came from. Soldiers making grenades out of whatever shards of glass and pieces of stone there were. People unmoving not from wounds, but dry lips and thinned features.
As she entered the hastily created borders between the soldiers and the bullets, the whispers started. Flame Witch, set fire to a dozen towns without batting an eyelash, thinks she’s better than everyone, cold because her flames burned so hot, too young to be on the battlefield.
Riza kept her expression placid as she entered further. Men scrambled out of her way, glances up at her and quick jerks away. She made it out to the front, standing above the barbed wire and sandbags to get a scope of what the enemy lines looked like from just across the street.
She squatted back down as gunfire erupted towards where her head used to be.
“Major, can you do it?” Someone asked; a Colonel based on how many stars were on his shoulder.
She nodded curtly and pulled on an ignition glove, its silky fabric choking her hand. The white shimmered under the spots of sunlight leaking in through the canopy set up by the Amestrian soldiers. The array on the back of it crackled with blue light emerging from the red threads. Mustang was the one to stitch them in, she remembered. They split the job together, and even though Riza hadn’t taken him as someone who knew how to sew, he did it masterfully.
Riza stood again, arm outstretched gracefully as if she was to let go of an arrow to hit its mark. A huntsman, the neighbours called her when she was just a young girl, like a fae or some kind of forest elf.
A snap. The world in front of her exploded into plumes of gold and red.
Soldiers lowered their weapons and looked up, shielding their eyes and gritting their teeth. Beauty was a hard thing to stomach for many men. Riza didn’t avert her eyes, focusing solely on the encampment ahead. Each gun that melted, the sandy houses to explode, the targets of her flames. She was to destroy it all. Flames engulfed her mind and life.
They died down only a couple of seconds later, leaving a huge gust of grey wind to blow atop of their own settlement. Soldiers started hacking and coughing, squeezing closed their eyes pricked with tears and gripping guns tighter. When they recovered, they looked up to see Riza Hawkeye completely fine.
“We need to see that there are no more rebels over there.” The Colonel stated.
“Yes, sir.” Riza responded, spinning on her heel.
“Should we send troops with you?” He asked.
Riza poised her fingers together. “I require none.”
Notes:
heavily inspired by'burning in reverse'!! roy being proud of the tattoo (at first) is something majorly different from riza, esp becaus ehe IS the student wanting to learn flame alchemy. its the choice that riza ran away to military academy which changes the course of this au from canon really. honestly good for her ⭐️
Chapter 2: Spark of Hope
Chapter Text
One thing they didn’t tell Roy about sniping.
It was quite boring.
Hours and hours of sitting and waiting for something to happen, hoping it doesn’t, and when something does happen, it’s over in less than a second.
And the cycle starts all over again.
Roy had arrived in Mellouja in the middle of the night, stars above barely visible through the murky clouds of smoke and dust. He was sent out with his sniping gear to scout a good spot to perch at, waiting for the gunfire to start again the next morning. It was a belltower at the very edge of town, with stained glass still in two of the four windows of the clock. Behind him was a large bell made of bronze, sitting on the pale yellow floor.
And there he sat. The sun rose, and gunfire began. Roy looked through his scope to spy the Ishvalans in on own side, deeper into Mellouja, and shot at whatever clear shots there were. People being risky, people being stupid, people being careless… Roy got his clear shot and fired. His afternoon was spent in the steady cycle of silence, explosion, screams, repeat.
He wasn’t told of it. The officers at the academy hadn’t told him about the sunburn, the boredom, the screams. Roy thought of the rebels. He thought of a once beautiful nation, a desert oasis, destroyed. He thought of the buildings destroyed, centuries of history and culture lost, hundreds killed, thousands displaced. He thought of himself, the orphan, using his gun to make more.
Roy wasn’t a particularly good sniper either.
Then, there was the explosion. Its heat blasted into Roy, even up in the tower, and he got a magnificent view of the alchemical boom, the arms of spark and inferno reaching up towards the sky in large, black-grey billows.
He took a deep breath to try and mitigate the smoke in his lungs, only making things worse. Just glancing down at the carnage, with his own naked eyes, Roy knew there was no point to sniping. They were all dead.
He rubbed at his eyes, feeling tears start to form. Pressed his lips together, rubbed at the scope, pressed his eye back towards it. From the Amestrian side, he watched as someone emerged; alone.
Golden hair, a white coat fluttering behind them.
It was the Flame Alchemist.
Roy adjusted his scope to follow her. She entered the city deeper, with a hand raised and ready to snap. Walking towards the sun, so west. Right where Roy’s bell tower was positioned. He would get to keep an eye on her. See how she did his work, if she regretted becoming a State Alchemist.
Roy only ever saw her around camp, in the barest amounts– they kept the human weapons away from normal soldiers, and even so, Roy was always in his sniper’s nest, away from any of the State Alchemists on the ground fighting. He’d seen many eyes in Ishval– depressed, angry, joyous, but hers were empty and emotionless. Sometimes, he thought that was worse than the ones empty of life.
Movement from the corner of his scope. It seemed like she had also noticed, and her snap echoed across the empty buildings and up to the bell tower. She brandished the flames like a whip, boots scuffling against the dusty grounds and controlling the flames with rigid movements. He watched as they reflected onto her face. They’d tried it out together, once, but never to the magnitude he had to watch her use it for.
It was a beautiful, deadly dance of death.
The Flame Alchemist cut down a fourth rebel just as a fifth emerged from their hiding place just behind her. The rebels threw themselves forwards.
Roy’s gunshot cracked the air.
The rebel flew backwards from the impact of the bullet, his blood spreading across the sandy stones.
The Flame Alchemist looked down upon the rebel and then up towards where the bullet had come from. Roy knew he did a good job in choosing a hiding place, as her eyes never quite met his as her chin jerked curtly. A thank you.
Her uniform coat fluttered around her ankles as she walked away.
Roy learnt how to talk at a young age.
Scratch that. Roy was mute for the first nine years of his life. Barely talking to his parents, and then when his mother died after his father left, not talking at all. His aunt and sisters found that he could talk to specific people, and had a scarily high reading comprehension, but that he just refused to talk to most people. Roy’s voice only peeking out when surrounded by the women he called his sisters, then finally coming out of his shell after meeting the Hawkeyes. His Aunt Chris joked that retreating into the countryside did wonders for his extrovertedness. Maybe too well, his sisters crowed.
So no, Roy learnt how to talk correctly at a young age.
Smooth lies and the right words put together. Which synonyms to use, all the fancy words, where to drawl his words and what accents to use on specific people. How to judge a person on their shoes, their hygiene, their eyes. When to drop his voice low and when to go higher-pitch. How to make people underestimate him, or fear him. That was the life of a spy.
It made him good at speeches. It made him good at acting. It made him good at getting extra tips. It made him good at getting out of trouble in school. It made him good at convincing people to trust him with their secrets. It made him good at guilt-tripping exam answers out of fellow cadets. It made him good at getting a free drink on the house.
It made him good at talking people down from shooting their own brains out.
The spark of hope was what they called him. His words ignited a new sense of hope inside of men he spoke to, words dripping like a nostalgic candle or something from a childhood fireplace. How he set aflame a new crackle of determination amongst Amestrian men. Rumours that he could speak Generals and Commanding Officers to tears with just a couple of sentences. A tongue like a tendril of warm, gentle fire in the place they all dubbed ‘hell’.
Roy already decided. Once they got out of the war, he was going to use that voice. Somehow, his voice was going to keep them from entering any more wars with such high casualties that nobody benefitted from but the men sitting at the top.
Roy watched the woman finish her rounds before heading back to where the Amestrian soldiers had set their base. They were all packing up, Roy watched through his scope, and chose to do the same.
Each nest would be abandoned. Roy would always find a new one.
Roy found her.
She was standing on one of the dunes, looking out at the destruction she caused. From over the hill, Roy could still see smoke swirling its way upwards through the blue sky. Her white cape fluttered behind her, grimy and spotted with flecks of blood from Roy’s own bullet. Alone, as the Flame Alchemist always was.
Maes paused with him, focusing on what Roy was looking at. “The Flame Witch?”
“Don’t.” Roy hissed.
Riza Hawkeye turned at the voices, slowly, calculatedly. Her eyes were sunken and empty as he’d seen through the scope; the eyes of a killer. Cheeks sunken and turned to a sharp jawline and ears still pierced. Blond hair tousled with sand, State Alchemist watch glinting with each chain moving under the sun’s rays.
Roy stepped forwards, slinging his wrapped-up rifle back to reach up to his hood, letting it fall onto his back. A back which Riza had delicately touched not even one year ago to learn the beauty which was causing devastation. “Long time no see, Major Hawkeye. Remember me?”
“Of course,” she whispered, it carrying over the thick air. Maes wouldn’t have noticed, but Roy latched onto that pinch in her chin, her eyebrow raising a minuscule amount. She was horrified.
“I would have hoped you did,” Roy responded, and he couldn’t tell what his voice was subliminally communicating. The voice he’d used so carefully, one Maes knew had saved countless lives. “Seeing as I just saved you from that last rebel who jumped you.”
Her eyes studied him. Riza’s face barely moved, as it did when she was younger, but Roy knew. Her voice huskily drew over the sands. “Thank you, Mustang.”
“Please tell me, Major.” Roy said. “Why are you using alchemy to kill civilians?”
Her jaw tightened, barely noticeable through the desert haze. Roy continued staring at her. He was often told he had intimidating eyes.
“Because that’s the job of a State Alchemist,” a voice from behind made Roy turn. “Why are we using alchemy to kill? Because that is the duty placed upon soldiers. Am I wrong?”
Roy quickly spotted the string of silver flashing proudly, along with the barest hints of black on his hands. “It’s being used to kill civilians. That’s a war crime. Are you saying that we soldiers must break the law, Major Kimblee?”
“Well, now, mister sniper…” Kimblee hummed, “why are you here, if not to kill?”
Roy kept a blank face. Maes remained silent over their interactions, backing away slowly as if watching caged lions circle each other.
“Can you tell me for certain that when you shoot an Ishvalan, there isn't the slightest moment where you think ‘I got him! Great!’ to take pride in your own skills, and feel a sense of accomplishment?” Kimblee sneered, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
Roy didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
Kimblee’s mouth remained open before he started cackling. “Well, why are you a soldier?”
“I have a person to protect.” Roy responded. “She wouldn’t need protection if we did not have this senseless war.”
Kimblee lifted a hand to his face, rubbing it down his mouth. “Someone with the nickname ‘spark of hope’ should be a poet, not a soldier. The battlefield is where you kill the enemy, which is why I don’t understand you people.”
“Enough, Kimblee.” Riza butted in.
“Did you put on your uniforms without being ready for that?” Kimblee continued, strolling towards Roy. “Don’t avert your eyes from death. Look forwards. Look directly at the people you are killing. Never forget the faces of those you’ve killed, because they sure as hell won’t forget yours.”
And then, the man verbally wondered what kinds of rations would be served as he headed back to the heart of camp.
Roy’s heart beat carefully against his ribcage. Never forget the faces of those you’ve killed, because they sure as hell won’t forget yours.
His aunt’s voice as she saw him off at the train ran through his head. Make peace with death. It will be your closest friend on the battlefield.
“Mustang.” Riza breathed. Her eyes were glassy too.
Roy didn’t dare blink at her as he walked away.
He finally found the Flame Witch sitting at a mound of packed sand.
“A fellow State Alchemist?” He questioned.
“This was an Ishvalan child.” She replied.
Roy lowered his rifle, the package thudding into the sand and sinking further.
“I didn’t kill her.” Riza had to clarify. “She was left on the side of the street.”
“Let’s go home. The war is over.” Roy said.
“The Ishvalan War is not over inside of me.” Riza responded quietly. “It still wages in my mind. This fire, the smell, the screams, it won’t go away, not ever. No, it will never be over for as long as I live. You were not the one to raze towns with a snap of your fingers or to destroy all evidence that this rich history ever existed other than the devastation we’ve caused.”
Roy felt his chest barely able to rise. It was like it was being weighed down by all the bodies he’d shot. Her words solidified his choice.
“I was the one who gave it to you.” Roy responded. “I take fault for that.”
“I was the one who became a State Alchemist.” She shot back. “I gave you hope the military could be used to bring happiness.”
“It was my choice to enlist.” Roy said, voice hoarse. “You know I had my objectives even before I joined. Though, there is no hiding from the truth. I will never be able to atone from this and what I’ve forced you through.”
Riza said nothing in return. He’d hoped she wouldn’t have.
“I have a favour, Miss Hawkeye.” Roy kept his tone steady, because that was what it was– unshakable. “Please burn, and deface my back.”
Her shoulders tensed at his request. Roy continued. “If you don’t, I’ll do it myself. If I can’t atone, then I will prevent this annihilation from ever happening again by starting with these secrets on my body. I need to rid myself of this in order to reach my goals.”
They remained silent. Roy had already traded a week’s worth of rations for a lighter. He knew he could steal gasoline from the returning tanks and nobody would notice. He could get one of her gloves from the tents, try and understand how to actually aim it as he used it on his own husk of a man. He would burn himself alive, that it would mean his body would be crushed to nothing but grey ash– not the most sought-after alchemical knowledge in the country.
The thing wasn’t worth it in the slightest. He slept on his back, feared as he lay on his stomach to shoot, was careful to shower, barely changed clothes, was weary of the medics. He was aware of colours of cloth, there was no way for him to go shirtless like the other male soldiers when they were too hot. He was sceptical of t-shirts and couldn't talk to anyone about it. What had seemed cool when he was eighteen was nothing but charred bodies inked into his skin at twenty-three.
He didn’t want to be Flame Alchemy anymore.
He wanted to be a good man. It would never be possible, after what he’d done, what he’d shown. But Roy wanted to become a man who did good acts. He wanted to do exactly as he said he would when he was younger– he wanted to make the world a better place, make Amestris better. He was going to do it with his words, not the monstrosity pasted on his back– he was going to do it with his own merits. Protecting everyone– Maes, Riza, his aunt and sisters –and they, in turn, would protect those lower.
Roy decided that at the Fuhrer’s victory speech. Looking up at that man, in his perfect attire and nicely trimmed mustache, who was staring right back down at the foot soldiers as if they were all bugs who were simple footstones for him. Roy wanted that power. He was going to take that man’s spot and do actual good with it instead of commissioning so much senseless death and violence.
She stood, slowly. Stumbling steps as Riza centred herself and turned to face him.
“Can you do that for me?” Roy heaved. “When I first showed you, you called it a burden. Please release me from this, this which you accurately labelled all those months ago. I beg you.”
There were no flowery words he could use for her. The only thing he could do was plead. He was no spark of hope. He was an ember of desperation.
“All right.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “I will leave as little trace of it as possible.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Hawkeye.” He said softly.
They did it in an abandoned townhouse just outside of Central.
Roy’s aunt had set it all up, without truly knowing what was going on. She read his list carefully, of supplies they would need, and with a suspicious glance, did as he requested. All the girls at the bar were treading on glass around him and her. The spark of hope and the Flame Witch.
“Mustang. Are you sure?” She asked, for the thousandth time.
It never got easier for either of them.
“Yes, sir,” his voice was sure but raspy.
He was leaned up against a slab of wood, stomach and chest pressed up against it and bare back cool against the night air. He shivered, knowing that he would be very, very hot in a matter of minutes. The only light inside the cabin was of one lantern next to Riza and Roy heard the sweep of fabric as she slid a glove on.
Roy took deep breaths. Getting the array on his back was his Master carving the transmutation circle into his skin, a lot less painful than he’d imagined. It itched as he healed. Roy didn’t know what burning felt like. He’d assume many dead Ishvalans knew. Roy had almost been too scared to research what it would be like, the healing process, but he did anyway. The results were as he expected.
The lamp got set down on the table next to him. “Mustang…”
“Miss Hawkeye,” Roy breathed, “try and get the whole array.”
He couldn’t see her answer as she stood directly behind him. All he heard was a snap, and warmth. No wonder Berthold Hawkeye was obsessed with flames; their warmth against Roy’s back was almost soothing.
…then, it was like someone poured acid all over his back.
Yes, his skin was melting. Melting with it would be all of his Master’s research, the final pieces of Flame Alchemy to remain in the world. Roy barely noticed when he started screaming and barely noticed when she smothered the flames.
The animalistic screeches exiting his mouth only tapered as everything around him went black and he began heaving gasps of cold air. Roy tried to open his eyes to see where Riza was, only to realise that no, his eyes were open, and he just couldn’t see at all.
Then, his mind faded away into nothingness.
Roy regained full consciousness in two days. Before that, he was drifting between states, sometimes completely knocked out and then waking for brief flashes of seeing Riza tending to his back or sitting near him.
“How is it?” Roy asked.
“Healing.” Riza said.
Roy didn’t even want to know what his back looked like. Not even a year ago, he was obsessed with reading it in the mirror. Now, it was Riza gently pulling off bandages that clung to his skin. Parts of his back felt like it would only ever feel pain ever again, while other parts felt absolutely nothing at all.
“Does it look badass?” Roy joked.
“It looks blistery,” Riza answered.
Oh, ouch. She placed some new bandages on him, thin and breathable ones. Some kind of ointment soothed the parts of his back that were still able to feel. The sun filtered in through a window as she went to get tape to hold down the gauze.
“Riza,” Roy breathed. She turned to him, “thank you.”
Her face pinched up as she turned curtly. He heard her heavy breaths in the next room over but couldn’t even get up to comfort her. Roy lay motionless while she took gasping sobs just a couple of metres away, because that was all he could do. He was useless.
His back started fading from pain to itchy in just a week. The skin stretched and pulled with his muscles, blisters forming into raised skin. He was able to move around the abandoned house, carefully and jankily. He was shirtless the entire time– however, it was really almost like he was still wearing clothes because of the vast expanse of bandages on his back and wrapping forwards.
And finally, she started talking to him in more than one-worded answers. She asked what he’d meant, back when she was burying that final Ishvalan child. And Roy told Riza. “I wish to become Fuhrer so I can prevent all of this senseless violence from ever happening again.”
And she decided to go along with him.
Notes:
this chapter took lots of inspiration from 'flame witch' and 'spark of hope' fic/ideas because roy IS good with words and i feel like without flame alchemy, this is what he is famous for. loved the idea when i read it and i cant think of any other military nickname for riza other than 'flame witch' anymore 💫
Chapter 3: Lt Colonel Hawkeye
Notes:
finally our main character of the canon material is here
and holy shit i need to put this here because thank you so much for this i actually needed it so badly <3 thank you so much (i really hope you like the rest of the fic too)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Riza was starting on paperwork when the man entered her office.
He saluted when he got to her desk. She looked up. “Mustang.”
“Lieutenant Mustang,” he corrected, “sir.”
“At ease.” She ordered.
Mustang relaxed. “I’m surprised you’re still in the military, sir.”
“I have to help someone reach their goal.” Riza answered. “In order to create a new generation with good fortune, we must carry the toll of a river of blood and bodies through sand. Equivalent exchange.”
It was cruel to bring up equivalent exchange to such a man. Where they should have exchanged places, where the apprentice should have sat in the spot meant for the Flame Alchemist, and the daughter elsewhere, far from the military. But it was as it was. Riza would continue her path as the Flame Witch and Hero of Ishval, and Mustang would continue to drag himself up further and further, up to the throne of the military. Where he would finally be able to change the system for good.
Mustang pressed his lips tighter. Riza stood. “I’ll be assigning you as my assistant.”
“Your assistant, sir?” Mustang teased softly.
“I want you to watch my back. In return, I’ll watch yours.” Riza explained. “Surely you understand what this means.”
Mustang may not have wanted to be Flame Alchemy anymore, but it still existed in their cruel world. The existence was from one woman, who wanted him close so he could regulate what was being done with those burns on his back. The very least Riza could do after all the torture she’d done to him through that tattoo was let him have a bit of control over how it’s used. If it’s being used the wrong way again.
“If I ever stray from my path, I expect you to burn more than my back.”
Riza felt her heart skip a beat at those words. It was his first day back working for the military after healing from that. Riza hadn’t expected him to return to her after all she’d done with the knowledge he’d entrusted to her. Knowledge that both wanted to use for spite, and were used instead by the government. Ishvalan screams still haunted her subconscious, two months after returning home, and Riza knew they would never truly leave, either. As of recent nightmares, Mustang’s screeches from her burning his back had joined. Could he really be saying such things? Was he so fearless upon that, or did he… trust her enough? Did she trust him enough?
“If I stray from mine, then you must shoot me right back. That is an order.”
Yes, she trusted him.
The question was if she could trust herself to act upon her words, or if he could act on his.
“Will you follow me?” Riza asked.
“As you wish, sir.” Mustang said. “Into hell, if you so desire.”
“Resembool? I’ve never heard of that place.”
Riza hummed mutedly. “Of course you don’t. You’re inner city.”
Mustang sputtered. “I don’t suppose you know where it is! It’s not even on the map!”
“It’s right here.” Riza leaned over and pointed to a spot in the southeastern district of Amestris. “Really, Lieutenant.”
“That was just sheer luck, sir.” Mustang scoffed, folding up the map as aggressively as possible without damaging it.
Riza hummed noncommittally, looking out of the window. She’d specifically memorised its location to flabbergast the man. Mustang continued talking for the next two hours in the train about something completely different, something Riza was listening to in the moment but tossed into the back of her mind once he moved on towards a different subject.
“Doesn’t seem like a place to have masterful alchemists, though.” Mustang leaned forwards to get a better view out of the window from around Riza. Rolling fields, animals grazing and crops dashing across the glass. It reminded her of the remote village where she grew up.
“Who are we again?” She asked.
Mustang snorted. “Alright, I cave.”
They quickly reached the town, finding sheeps herded on the streets and dirt roads and townsfolk willing to give them a ride to the Elric house. Elrics who, Riza and Mustang found out on the ride, were actually ten and eleven. Since they’d come so far on rumours Mustang had, they might as well have gone over to see what was going on.
Riza rapped on the door, knuckles booming against the wood. Mustang peeked around the house, jogging to either side of the house’s corners. “Sir!”
Riza immediately rushed over to see a trail of blood coming from the ajar back door. Mustang waited until she entered first, his gun out and her ignition cloth on. Other than the thick smears of blood down the hallway, it looked like a quaint house.
And of course, the blood led to the basement. The home of an alchemist.
“Could… they be using animal experimentation?” Mustang asked, and Riza felt sick as she too was yearning for that to be the case.
Down the creaking steps. Careful to avoid the fresh blood that was crusting over most of the stairs. And when they got down, Riza felt her heart drop.
“Lieutenant..?” Riza couldn’t tear her eyes from that monstrosity on the ground.
A large transmutation circle, with shapes and symbols and connecting white lines with buckets of paint in the corners of the room. Piles of books and opened journals did nothing to get Riza to look away from the blackened thing in the middle of the circle, ribs open to the air and one, singular, weak arm reached out towards them. Stark black hair against the dried inky blood flooding the inner circles. It was clearly dead. Alchemy… but what kind would ever cause that?
“That’s… a human transmutation circle!” Mustang shouted, immediately rushing back up the stairs.
Riza was not that interested in alchemy other than the necessities. But there were some things all alchemists knew.
“Lieutenant!” Riza shouted as she followed, the two sprinting down the road to the next house, the Rockbells, where the man who had given them a ride said the Elrics spent a lot of time at.
Mustang made it to the door, slamming his fist against it. Riza quickly made it with him, and when someone finally answered, Mustang grabbed at the door and swung it open. He made no haste to enter even as the occupant complained, swivelling his head around in search of his prey. The two of them entered, looking around. A quaint place. Warm, with photographs showcasing love and nicely painted walls.
“Lieutenant.” Riza hissed, but it was futile as Mustang went over and grabbed the tiny kid in the wheelchair. The child’s face was downturned, but he slowly looked up with the manhandling. And god, his eyes were blank.
“We saw what was in your basement! What the hell– what did you make?!” Mustang shouted, pulling the kid off the wheelchair. Riza marched over. “Who did you think was worthy enough to make that thing?!”
“We’re sorry. Please forgive us.” The armour shuffled over to Mustang, putting a hand on his shoulder and outstretched hand. Riza could barely breathe as she remembered; it wasn’t just the Elric brother. It was the Elric brothers. And no child could have done such a transmutation alone, no matter how knowledgeable they had been. If equivalent exchange was exactly as it said, then the child in the wheelchair had lost an arm and a leg… then the other brother…
Mustang slowly let go of the kid, placing him back down on the wheelchair. “Apologies, Lieutenant Colonel.”
“Forgiven, Lieutenant.” Riza focused her gaze on the boys. Or what was left of them.
Riza hadn’t expected a girl to come serve her tea.
“Thank you.” She said quietly, accepting the little porcelain cup. Porcelain was fireproof.
She also hadn’t expected the girl to sit down next to her, holding the tray close to her body.
“Lieutenant Colonel?” The girl asked quietly.
“You can call me Riza,” she responded, “it’s nice to meet you.”
When she offered out her hand, Riza was barely surprised when the girl turned away. She'd barely ever talked to children; mostly set fire to them.
“Miss Riza, have you ever shot someone?” The girl asked.
Riza blinked and withdrew her hand. “Yes. Many times.”
“I hate soldiers.” The girl stated, and it was bold considering she was talking to a high-ranking military officer. “My mom and dad got taken to the battlefield and were killed there.”
Riza noted the past tense. “You're Winry, aren't you.”
Winry jerked around, giving Riza the confirmation she needed. “I got treated by them once. Your father kissed a photo of you after a child entered their medic tent.”
Winry tossed her head away from Riza, shoulders scrunching up. “And now, you’re going to take away Ed and Al too. I don’t want them to become soldiers– please don’t take them away.”
Riza tightened her grip on the teacup. “We’re not taking them by force. It’s up to them to decide whether they will go. Everything in this world comes down to choice– I don’t particularly like being a soldier, either.” Winry looked over as Riza continued. “Whether to move forwards or stay still. The boys will decide their own fates.”
“Miss Riza, then why did you become a soldier?”
Ah, what a question. She wasn’t going to tell a young girl that she’d originally joined to run away from home, or to prove her father wrong. How she’d been forced to commit atrocities that her parents were killed in, or that Riza was only about a decade older than Winry herself when it happened. No, Riza would tell Winry why she chose to stay a soldier.
“There is someone I have to help.” Riza said. “My Lieutenant and I have made our choice. I’ve chosen to stay to help him get further and make being a soldier become something good. If those boys have strong will, they will make the correct choice.”
“Lieutenant Colonel.” Mustang entered the living room, saluting as he did.
“Lieutenant,” Riza stood, grabbing her watchcoat. “Have you finished?”
“Quite,” he responded, hand on the doorknob. “Are you ready to leave, sir?”
“I believe so,” Riza exited, Mustang following right behind. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning as the girl followed them. “Goodbye, young lady.”
“You can– you can call me Winry.” Winry said shyly, sticking her hand out.
Riza blinked, feeling a sense of home from her as she shook right back.
The cart shivered under the dirt road, wheels creaking as it did. Riza found herself sitting in the back again, Mustang beside her. The clean air of the countryside filled her lungs, oh so different from the smoke of a country’s history she’d been inhaling only a couple of years before.
“Will they be coming?” Riza asked.
“Yes.” Mustang answered immediately.
“That boy had a spiritless look in his eyes,” Riza reflected quietly.
“You think so?” Mustang hummed, “those were eyes that had flame in them.”
Riza tapped her foot on the floor as she glanced around her office.
Her subordinates were chattering on again. She cleared her throat, making all of them jerk away from each other. “Should I even ask?”
“Maybe not?” Mustang grinned cheekily.
Riza rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “And how much paperwork have you finished?”
Mustang’s lack of a response spoke louder than any excuse he could have given her.
“Well– to be fair, I’m working on that new bill!” Mustang countered. “How about that!”
Riza shot a deadpan look at him. He was right about that– Mustang was the one who was doing all of her office’s… political work. It was his goal to become Fuhrer, not hers– he was the one doing all the work making it to the top. He was the one their office went to for publicity and rumours while she was the commander and the one who ordered them around for field missions.
“Are you working on it now?” She emphasised. Mustang refused to answer. Riza sighed. “And the report on the field mission five days ago?”
“I’m on it!” Mustang hurriedly pulled out papers and began scribbling on them. Her other subordinates started snickering quietly.
She turned to them next. “And you, Breda? That research report for Major Hughes? Havoc, that report?”
They also jerked right back to working, rendering her inner office silent. Riza’s eyes scanned over the paper, looking over the contract she was about to put her signature onto. The usual, weapons transportation or requests from lower ranks that went to her chain of command. Riza didn’t even truly understand why they put her in charge of a branch in Eastern Command, but it worked for Mustang, which she was surprised about.
Made him seem insubstantial and unnoticeable to the brass, he’d said. Being insignificant had its perks, apparently. Though, Riza knew he always grit his teeth when higher-ups praised her for her political moves rather than the one who actually came up with the tactic. He always liked recognition for his own work, but she knew he was ready to bear with staying in the darkness if he truly saw it as necessary. At least in her office, with her team, Riza and Mustang made sure to let them know that all she was there to do was lead them. He was the one keeping up appearances and politically well-off.
“Sir, report.” Mustang’s voice lifted Riza’s head from the paper.
“Resembool?” She asked.
“Yes, sir.” Mustang stood straight up. Riza took the papers from his hand, flipping through. Their cover story, written masterfully without any gaps. The Elric brothers turned out to be ten and eleven years old due to a mistake in filing paperwork, and one of them had lost half of their total limbs in the Eastern rebellion due to some Ishvalans passing through Resembool. Mustang put down that Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye had recommended that they try out to become State Alchemists anyways due to their prodigal knowledge of alchemy and that she would endorse them if they chose to do so.
“Very well,” Riza closed the file, “bring this to the Records Department before you leave.”
“Yes, sir.” However, Mustang didn’t return to his desk. “Are you growing out your hair, sir?”
Riza looked up at him. “You noticed.”
“It’s reached your neck,” Mustang answered, “a haircut wasn’t scheduled in your calendar.”
“I see,” she said wryly, “how astute.”
“You look very nice.” Mustang said.
“I know, Lieutenant.” Riza replied.
Her subordinates started laughing at Mustang’s expense. Riza smirked, Mustang’s body covering her from the rest of the office. His shoulders slumped at her victory, trudging his way back to his desk as First Lieutenant. Across the room, Riza could hear whispers about how his womaniser act only worked on every woman but their scary Commanding Officer. Mustang shot back that he would eventually be able to capture her heart.
Riza returned to her paperwork.
Riza didn't bother as a phone started ringing.
She did start bothering when Mustang began to talk. “Sir, a call for you. It’s Edward Elric.”
“Put him through,” Riza didn’t even have to say it when she found that it was already on her phone. She picked it up, “hello, Edward Elric.”
“You’re Miss Riza?” A childish voice; high-pitched and clearly before puberty. “Winry’s talked about you.”
“Is that so?” Riza hummed. “Well, that’s very nice of her. You can tell her I said hello. Why are you calling?"
“Um– this State Certification thing– I’m heading up to your office in East City in like, thirty minutes.” Edward hummed.
“Thirty minutes?” Riza said urgently. Her voice picked up her men’s heads from around the room.
“I mean– I researched when it happens,” Edward defended, “so…”
Riza sighed quietly. There was nothing she could do. “Very well. We’ll meet you– what time will your train arrive?”
And an hour later, there he was. That kid in the wheelchair with the missing arm and leg, standing at the bottom of the steps with his hands in his pockets, red coat and golden hair fluttering in the wind. “Hi, Lieutenant Colonel.”
“Hello, Edward.” Riza answered. “I was promoted to Colonel while you were recovering.”
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Mustang added from next to her, and Riza didn’t even have to look to know what kind of face he was making or what tone he desired to be made. Yes, he was sure what he wanted Edward to do.
“Bow-wow.” Edward seethed. “Want me to wag my tail, Lieutenant?”
Mustang smirked. “I was promoted to Captain while you were busy licking your wounds.”
“We’re leaving.” Riza walked between the two, cutting off whatever argument the two were going to have. “Central awaits.”
Riza barely went to State Certification exams. They were tedious, and only to be witnessed by those who were stationed in Central or were qualified to access them. Most were failures; Riza knew the statistics of failure for the exam. She knew the age range and knew that herself and Edward were around a decade too early compared to most qualifiers.
However, Riza put her faith in the boy. She remained perfectly still in her spot on the balcony, peering over the edge to see the boy with golden hair standing between two officers, facing the Fuhrer.
Mustang had been complaining that he wouldn’t get to watch, but ultimately caved upon his best friend inviting him out for dinner with his pregnant wife. Her brows furrowed as she watched Edward clap his hands, no transmutation circles in sight as he pulled a spear out of the stone floors.
No transmutation circle? Riza took a miniscule step forwards to watch closer just as Edward lunged forwards.
Around her, the Colonels and higher-ups started panicking as the tip of Edward’s spear fell short of the Fuhrer’s throat. She watched as the Fuhrer’s blade drew at almost imperceptible speeds, and how it sliced through Edward’s spear.
Riza’s eyes focused on the spear. Masterfully made, with small designs and a sharp tip. Almost like a dagger connected to a rod, she noted. Riza had made some weapons like that back in her hometown, with a knife tied to a long, carved stick she’d found in the woods.
Riza didn’t care to listen further to the shouting and talking from below. Without a transmutation circle… oh, Mustang was going to be so upset he missed it.
She gave a soft smile as Edward gaped at his broken spear.
“Can’t believe I missed it.” Mustang grumbled. “I could have watched an assassination attempt!”
Riza didn’t answer him as she continued walking away from Central Command, Edward on one side and her subordinate on the other. She instead turned to the boy. “You were lucky none of them decided to shoot; if you become military, and there’s doubt of your loyalty, there will be worse consequences. Be careful.”
“I’d say the same thing to you.” Edward shot back. “Back there, when I did it… you were the only one not alarmed. Hardly the reaction of a loyal subordinate.”
Mustang snorted. “Higher command is already used to the Colonel, she isn’t the one who has to worry.”
“Well, if he had killed Bradley, it would leave us to get a better position.” Riza noted.
“Wh– huh, what if I snitched on you two to military command?” Edward sneered.
“Where would that get you?” Mustang snickered. “We’ve got our own dirt on you.”
Riza sighed at her subordinate’s antics. “Even though your process was incomplete, you still attempted human transmutation, the ultimate disobedience of the law. If that came to light, your career in the military would be over before it started. There would be no chance for you to get your bodies back.”
“Might even get sent to a lab for studying,” Mustang hummed.
“Captain.” Riza said sternly. He smiled nervously at her, but glared at the kid.
“Do you understand? Equivalent exchange.” Riza turned back to Edward. “We get clout for funding a talented alchemist, and you keep your certification and secret under wraps. I keep my end of deals.”
Edward cursed under his breath. Riza looked back down. “Don’t swear.”
He continued grumbling, but with less profanity.
“You still have a week until results,” Riza commented, “relax in your week in Central. I know it’s very different from your hometown.”
“I know,” Edward huffed.
“He can hear your accent, Colonel.” Mustang pointed out.
“I can hear that posh bastard voice,” Edward retorted.
“Can you now, pipsqueak.” Mustang rolled his eyes.
“Who’re you calling a pipsqueak, you fu–” Edward screeched, before slowly turning to Riza’s darkened stare. “Flippin’… smug, piece of crap.”
Mustang held back his laugh, instead turning away from the child. She could hear Edward’s teeth grinding together.
They were going to be lovely coworkers. Riza could tell.
Notes:
this chapter was more about how riza and roys relationships with the people around them change based on their switch in power (both politically and literally). so like ed and al + team mustang now that riza is their boss and roy is on the same status level as them. definitely some for roy and ed too 🌟
Chapter 4: Captain Mustang
Notes:
roy... this one is alot more focused on his relationship with ed now that theyre.. coworkers
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roy hated that little brat.
Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable.
“The Records Department is gonna have a field day with this one,” he said dryly.
“You got that right, Mustang.” Havoc groaned. “What is this kid’s handwriting?!”
Riza looked up at them blankly from her spot at her desk. “You’re criticising a crippled boy’s ability to write with his non-dominant hand because his right hand is amputated.”
Roy and Havoc snapped their mouths shut. The other guys in the office started laughing at them, muffled only by coughs.
“Could I try?” Furey, the naive young officer asked. Roy passed him one of Fullmetal’s new case reports. They all watched carefully as Furey read through the report, seeing if he could understand any part of it. As their resident communications officer, Roy had to admit that he was also curious if Fullmetal’s handwriting could be cracked. If the kid would need any kind of alchemical code to hide his research notes or not.
After five minutes, Roy smugly took back the file as Furey pouted over his desk.
“I’ll talk to him about it,” Riza sighed, “Captain, write it down.”
“Yes, sir.” Roy wrote it down on Riza’s calendar, showing when Fullmetal and his brother were to return to the office for a new mission report. “Do you want me to move it so that they’ll actually come on time?”
“It’s fine,” Riza said, and Roy knew from that tone that she wasn’t listening.
“You’re too soft on him.” Roy criticised.
“I’m too soft on you, too.” Riza shot back.
“Besides, that one’s a kid.” Breda mentioned. “You’re twenty-seven, Mustang.”
“And I completely deserve softness from our dear Colonel,” Roy sniffed.
“Can I ask about him?” Havoc butted in. “We’ve all sorta been…”
Skirting around it. Barely talking about it, not mentioning it in the slightest. Roy sighed. “He’s a talented alchemist– look, we’ve been favoured for that last alchemy bill and it’s most likely because of this little brat Fullmetal.”
“So he’s a political asset?” Falman confirmed, their newest addition to the office.
“I’d prefer to keep an eye on him.” Riza explained.
“What’s up with his brother, too?” Breda shivered. “No eleven-year-old should be that tall.”
“You’re just jealous, it seems.” Roy countered. “It’s a shame so many men are self-conscious.”
“Wh– I’m taller than you?!” Breda sputtered.
“Well, I’m completely fine with my height, and this eleven-year-old’s height.” Roy said breathily.
Riza cleared her throat. They all returned to working, but Roy was silently thankful of her interruption to a losing battle. There wasn’t much he could do to cover for Alphonse’s… lack of a body. He stole a glance at her as she raised her eyebrows just a bit, enough for him to know that she was saving him. He winked flirtatiously. She rolled her eyes, a small smile teasing at her face as she returned to her own paperwork.
Fullmetal - mission report meeting @1̶2̶0̶0̶ 1400 (talk about handwriting)
Roy sat across from Riza in her empty office.
Lunch hour. Sometimes, it was a godsend. He watched as she closed the folder, placing it in front of her on the desk. “The Philosopher’s Stone.”
Roy nodded. “It’s real– you’ve used one, so they could too. If you thought it would be worth pursuing, or if it would actually work, then I’d suggest it. There’s always rumours about that stone flying around.”
“While I admit that it would definitely be able to transmute new parts for their bodies…” Riza hummed, “it’s the obtainment part that’s difficult.”
“There’s so many rumours, we’d have to sift through them to find ones worthy of the Elric’s time.” Roy muttered. “Then also keep them alive, obviously.”
“The real ones used in the Civil War were taken by the military.” Riza tapped her foot, the boot making a dull thud against the floor. “I’ve also heard a new rumour about that stone every full moon, it seems.”
“So?” Roy leaned forwards, hands clasped together as he put his weight into his elbows resting on his knees. Riza looked up at him, hazel eyes meeting his own. Their silent conversation– bring the Philosopher’s Stone up with Fullmetal and Alphonse?
The door slammed open. Their conversation was cut short as the midget himself stomped his way over. “What’s this?”
“Sorry, Colonel, Captain,” Alphonse whispered, trailing behind.
“A meeting, Fullmetal.” Roy took the folder on the coffee table. “Though, you’re too short to see what we have on the table,”
“Who’re you calling so short that his head doesn’t even reach the top of a coffee table?!” Fullmetal screeched, pouncing forwards only to have Alphonse grab him by the back of his coat.
“Edward.” Riza sighed. “Your report?”
He grumbled and handed it over, knocking on Alphonse’s armour to let his younger brother know that he was not rabid enough to attack Roy again. He smirked at Fullmetal as Riza closed the report. “Edward. There was something I wanted to discuss with you.”
Roy’s eyes slid back over to her, calculating. Was it about his handwriting or the Philosopher’s Stone?
Her eyes met his. She’d already talked to him about his handwriting. She was going to tell him about the Philosopher’s Stone.
“Huh?” Fullmetal looked between them, confusion evident.
“They have sibling telepathy too,” Alphonse whispered back.
“We are not siblings, Alphonse.” Roy grumbled. “If anything, it’s lovers' telepathy.”
“Yes, if one of the lovers actually requited it.” Riza deadpanned. Roy flinched comically, groaning at the response. Fullmetal snickered. “Thank you, Captain.”
“No problem, Colonel.” Roy saluted before sauntering towards the door.
“Um– Captain?” Alphonse called back. Roy turned gracefully, eyebrows raised in wait. “Just that… you said ‘we recognised that in your basement’… Captain, do you know alchemy? There’s just… never been a good time to ask, and–”
Roy huffed a laugh. “Not enough to call myself an alchemist.”
Riza’s face twisted up from behind Fullmetal and Alphonse. The furthest thing from it; he was better at alchemy than her. All she knew were the basics and Flame Alchemy. He possessed all types of knowledge related to gas alchemy, and even more types of alchemy than that. Neither would mention it, though. The brothers were too young to understand that.
“Though, I know the ultimate taboo when I see it,” Roy said, narrowing his eyes and jutting his chin up just a couple of degrees. “I believe you got rid of the evidence somehow?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s all gone.” Fullmetal waved around his left hand, collapsing onto the sofas. “Jeez, you make us sound just as incompetent as you, Captain.”
“Well, at least we won’t have that problem with height.” Roy smirked, closing the door behind him.
A crash, some screaming before one curt order and then a single thud.
“Seriously, Mustang, you’re boiling!”
Roy fanned at his face, getting some comfort from the cool air. He glared over at Havoc. “Thank you for noticing, Lieutenant.”
“Just take off the jacket.” Breda urged, practically melting into his desk. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You already have your jacket off most of the time,” Roy shot back, though his voice was weaker with heat.
“We won’t judge, Captain,” Furey dragged a hand through his hair, coming back dripping with sweat, “the air conditioning should be back by tomorrow.”
And that was the problem. Roy wiped away droplets of sweat forming at his forehead, trying to focus on the paper in front of him. Some kind of report? His head was swimming, thudding painfully against the heat. The military uniform was not meant for the heat; the boots were roasting his feet and his legs were sticking to the fabric and the fucking jacket was heavy for some reason. A jacket that Roy couldn’t take off or else the dark ink and raised scars would show through his dress shirt.
He’d already unclasped the thing, but absolutely refused to take it off even as his coworkers encouraged him to. After three hours, they’d moved from encouraging to pleading.
“Captain,” Riza called over from her desk, making the rest of them look up a second before Roy, “you’re dismissed.”
“Colonel?” Roy heaved himself up from his chair, feeling a new wave of heat enveloping his arms and back.
“Look at you; you’re worse off than everyone else. I’ve already kept Edward from coming in today because of the automail.” Riza pointed out, her own jacket off and showing a black turtleneck which she’d dragged down enough to keep her dignity but let go of heat. “Go home. At least out there, the building isn’t an oven.”
That was true, but still! Roy dragged his forearm across his face, getting rid of all the stickiness for a mere second of coolness. Fuck, a cold shower… “I’ll be fine, Colonel.”
“Can we go instead?” Falman wheezed.
“No.” Riza answered harshly, making the rest of the team absolutely deflate into their desks. “I don’t expect you to work, but if you expect to get paid, you have to stay for another hour.”
“I’m out.” Breda stood, stumbling as he grabbed onto the desk. “I’m taking Mustang with me.”
“Hey– wait!” Roy shouted, feeling the man grab onto his jacket and drag him to the door. “This is an unwilling departure from my job!”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Riza called out, the rest of the team calling out similar things with weak waves of their hands.
Roy grumbled as they finally exited East Command, feeling a little bit better with the fresh air. Breda heaved a couple of breaths. “Look, Mustang, I don’t know why you’re so defensive, but just know that nobody in the office is judging you.”
Roy shot a heat stroke-induced grin to his coworker as they parted ways.
Roy was counting the seconds until the door burst open.
Five, four, three, two, one. Maes burst in, hands filled with photographs. “Yo, Roy! Riza!”
“Hughes,” Roy shot a small smile at his best friend.
“Hello, Lieutenant Colonel.” Riza added.
Maes shuffled over to them, dumping polaroids in Roy’s arms. “Look at this! My dear Elicia is turning two in a couple of weeks!”
“I know, Hughes.” Roy sighed, but picked up the photographs anyway. A bright little girl shone up, cuddling a plush bear, holding up a finger painting, cuddling in bed with Gracia.
“We have more pressing matters at hand,” Riza interrupted.
“Right down to business as usual, Riza,” Maes joked as he gathered up all his photos, cooing at some he saw.
“Maes.” Riza brought him back down to earth. Roy had no idea how they ended up calling each other by their first names. He couldn’t help but be a little jealous of it, especially because Riza specifically told him to never call her Riza to keep a professional relationship. Roy knew they were pretty close; in fact, it was Roy who introduced them! He wouldn’t think they would hang out without them!
He grumbled as they started conversing. Roy glanced back through the case file; nothing too interesting, just a case that the brass believed was worth having the head of Investigations seek out. Things in Riza’s jurisdiction, things in East City specifically. Some kidnappings of civilian alchemists, all over East City. Not enough to provoke action from Central, except for the fact that many of them were researching biological alchemy, a recent trend finding that they had knowledge– no matter how minor –of human transmutation.
The information about the ultimate taboo was highly guarded– Roy knew so, because he only recently got access to the classified documents detailing retellings from prisoners who had done so, the things they went through and recounts of what they saw. He barely had any interest in that field, only knowing a little about what kinds of things would be on that array from his time with Master Hawkeye. So, if someone in East City was searching for knowledge about it…
Yes, enough to stir up a little bit of drama for the officers sitting all cushy in Central. Enough to send out Maes to work with Eastern Command’s top officer, the Flame Alchemist.
Roy glanced around the office, from his place next to Riza’s desk. The other guys were working away, glancing up a bit at the conversation but mostly keeping to themselves. Sunlight streamed in through the huge windows behind him, casting the room with large differences of light and dark. Beside him, he could hear Riza’s commanding and clear tone resonate through the room, and see Maes biting his lip and nodding along.
“–and I have to submit the research report.” Riza finished saying something. Roy tuned back in. “So I wouldn’t be able to go with Edward.”
“Shucks. This is something that needs two combat-grade alchemists.” Maes muttered.
Riza’s eyes slid over to Roy. He straightened his back slightly. “What?”
“…you’d be going with the Fullmetal Alchemist.” Maes summarised.
“…oh, shit.” Roy cursed quietly.
A jet of flame burst out beside him.
At least Fullmetal shared his grievances.
“Him?! Are you serious?!” Fullmetal scoffed, banging his metal fist into the coffee table in front of him.
“That is an order, Edward.” Riza stated. “You too, Captain.”
“Yes, sir.” Roy grumbled before turning to the kid. “Look, I’m not happy about it, but I’ll be civil and babysit you for our precious commanding officer.”
“Babysit?!” Edward screeched.
“Brother!” Alphonse leapt forwards.
“Boys.” Riza said sternly. “You’re going to hunt down this culprit and you are going to do it with the least property damage possible.”
Roy shot a glare at Fullmetal. His cost of living was going to run the military dry. Fullmetal stuck his tongue out in return. It went unnoticed as Riza flipped through a file. “Here. Captain, you brief them. I’m done with you two.”
Alphonse perked up at that. Riza offered him a soft smile. “Not you, Alphonse.”
Roy and Fullmetal went deadpan. There was no doubt to that, and everyone could agree on that.
“You two, behave yourselves.” Riza turned to them, full glare-mode back on.
“Yes, sir.” Roy saluted. Riza handed him the file and shooed them away.
The car jostled as Alphonse clambered into the back. Roy huffed and pressed on the gas, driving off against the orange skies. Fullmetal swore as he adjusted his position next to Roy. “So, Captain bastard, where are we going?”
“Don’t talk like that to the man driving the huge, dangerous box of metal,” Roy shot back, “and we’re going to southernmost East City, where there’s been more clusters of these kidnappings.”
“Why bring us?” Alphonse asked.
“You’re our bait.” Roy responded. Both the Elric brothers jerked their heads to stare at Roy. He shrugged. “Not my idea,” except it was. Roy was the one to suggest disguising Fullmetal as just some kid asking too many questions. Maes and Riza were skeptical until Roy promised that he would stay close.
“And you?” Fullmetal scoffed. “I doubt you’re gonna do anything useful for this mission.”
“I’m the good looks and the gun,” Roy sniffed, “Alphonse is the height. Your tiny one percent to this mission can be alchemy or whatever it is you have.”
“Who’re you calling tiny, you smug-faced idiotic useless Captain bastard–” Edward screeched, only stopping as Roy suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing the kid to be tossed forwards.
“As I said. Person steering the huge, dangerous metal box?” Roy teased. “Anyways, we’re here. This is the epicentre of the kidnapees.”
“And you’re gonna use me to get your guy.” Fullmetal huffed. “We could’ve been using this time to research.”
“Calm it, Fullmetal, we’ll get your access to a couple of classified files.” Roy hummed. “You just have to leave behind your State Alchemist watch and Alphonse.”
“What?” Alphonse questioned.
Roy raised an eyebrow, glancing in the mirror. “While disguising Fullmetal is easy, well…”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it.” Fullmetal rummaged through his pocket, pulling out the silver chain and handing it to Roy. “What’re you two gonna do?”
“I’ll be heading up there,” Roy leaned forwards in the seat, hand on the steering wheel as he pointed out a shabby apartment building nearby the car. “Just stay on this block, and I can see you. Alphonse, you’d be staying in an alleyway, where I would also be able to see you and send signals.”
“So I’m wasting my whole fucking night on this?” Edward complained.
“No, this kidnapper’s been known to take people off of the street. He just needs confirmation that you have knowledge with biological transmutation.” Roy answered. “Why else would we have come at dusk?”
“Oh.” Fullmetal adjusted his braid.
“Wait here until you see a single flash from the window,” Roy ordered, “Alphonse, that alleyway.”
The two of them got out of the car, and just as Roy spotted Fullmetal stretching, handed Alphonse a radio. “Use it if anyone enters the building I’m in or if I can’t get eyes on him.”
“Okay.” Alphonse gripped the radio.
Roy snuck to the apartment, heading up the stairs as fast as possible to quickly set up his sniping gear and get into position, having a clear view of the entire block in East City. Through the night vision, Roy could spot Alphonse in the alleyway and Fullmetal sitting in his car. All set.
He clicked once, making a sharp white light flash from the window. Through the scope, he watched as Fullmetal started mouthing something– probably curses –as he got out and slammed the door and looked around.
And there Roy was again. Waiting and watching. Finger on the trigger, axes converging at Fullmetal’s miniature body. He watched as Fullmetal started chatting it up with some people on the street, moving onto the next group he saw. Roy shifted his elbows to watch as Fullmetal entered stores, just barely visible through the scope.
The sun set. The light pollution on the horizon was much too clear, but Roy’s eye never left the scope. He was sure to have a lot of sore spots once he got up, but it was nothing compared to Ishval. What he was doing at the moment was nothing like Ishval– he was protecting a young coworker.
After an hour, Roy watched as Fullmetal approached a man with a paper bag. He watched as they talked for a minute, and then watched as the man pulled a gun out of the bag.
Bingo.
Roy quickly adjusted where his gun was pointing, lined up the shot, and fired. The bullet made impact with the middle of the man’s back, making him fall forwards just as Fullmetal stumbled out of the way– his janky movements confirmed to Roy that he was in a state of shock. From how Alphonse also burst out of the alleyway, they were both shocked.
Quickly, the two of them knelt down and Alphonse grabbed the gun, putting it across the street. Edward searched the casualty for weapons before trying to see if there was any breathing.
Roy kept watch through the scope, watching for anyone nearby. From what was in the mission report, it was likely a duo working to kidnap all the alchemists. The radio next to him fizzled; it had done that around two times before. Alphonse described what was happening inside of a store and spotting a man walking out from beyond the apartment Roy was in.
“Captain!” Alphonse, panicked. “What– he’s dead!”
“I’m not a sniper for nothing, Alphonse.” Roy answered, finally getting up from his position. As expected, his shoulders creaked at the movement and back crackled under the stretching. His eyes were sore from all the staring, head pounding at the sudden rising of his body. The scars at his back pulled.
“You killed him!” Alphonse screamed.
“That’s the job of a sniper, Alphonse.” Roy started disassembling the sniper rifle, packing it away into his case. “Your job was to look out for your brother. My job was to ensure that the kidnapper couldn’t get to you.”
“That meant killing him?” Alphonse asked. Roy glanced outside to see Fullmetal backing away and Alphonse hunched over the radio.
“This man… has killed ten alchemists.” Roy sighed. “He pulled a gun; I had to act to save you, a civilian. That is the duty of a soldier.”
Alphonse didn’t answer. Roy descended from the apartment, a hand in his pocket for change for a payphone, the other holding the radio, and his shoulder balancing the rifle case. Yes, the duty of a soldier. Roy was going to change what that meant once he became Fuhrer. It would not mean killing civilians for the sake of a country that didn’t require it. Roy was going to make soldiers something to actually want to be. He was going to get rid of the title ‘human weapons’.
It was going to help people like Fullmetal. Edward.
Notes:
centred around roy and the elric brothers 100%. wanted to get into what changes now that his back is... like that. anyways ed and al!! its not so much quarrelling boss-subordinate but now like bickering coworkers under a strict but soft boss. roy has different opinions now that hes a sniper ☁️
Chapter 5: Colonel Hawkeye
Notes:
finally heading back towards canon fmab.. riza just makes things more and more efficient compared to roy <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Can you handle this, Colonel Riza Hawkeye, Flame Alchemist?”
Riza kept her back perfectly straight. “If that is what you order, sir.”
“A coincidence you were in Central,” Fuhrer Bradley chuckled, “I can rest assured that I left this to you.”
Riza gave a curt bow. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh, one more thing.” Bradley hummed. “That boy is also here, your subordinate. Use him however you like.”
“The Fullmetal Alchemist?” Riza clarified.
“Yes, Edward Elric.” Bradley answered.
Riza was let go right after. She first made her way to get Mustang to contact her youngest subordinate. Then, went to get some coffee. Then, an hour later, requested another cup of coffee from Mustang after getting a call stating that Edward had caught Isaac McDougal, but let him escape just as quickly.
“You underestimated him, Edward.” Riza stated curtly.
“Who… was that guy?” Edward huffed.
“It was in the mission details.” Mustang sighed from next to her. “Isaac McDougal. The Freezing Alchemist; he was in the Ishval War of Extermination but resigned shortly after. He joined an antiestablishment movement so capture is of top priority to the military.”
“And why me?” Edward shot back.
“Because you’re a State Alchemist,” Mustang smirked, “less work for simple soldiers like me.”
Yes, maybe he was smarter for deciding not to become a State Alchemist. Riza sighed. “Well, have you two had any advancements towards your bodies?”
“With these stupid missions, we don’t have time.” Edward huffed.
“Well, then. Looks like I’ll do it myself.” Riza stood, pulling out her ignition gloves from her pocket. In the background, Mustang oohed at how she was so brave and cool as Riza slipped them on, alchemical seals digging into the back of her hands.
When Mustang finished oohing, he sobered up. “Colonel, it’s eleven at night. We should all go home.”
Riza glanced at him; and he was right about that for office hours, but… “crime never rests.”
“Yo, Roy!” The door burst open. Riza watched as Mustang’s face dropped almost comically.
And so, Riza’s night ended with the Elric brothers having a place to stay for the night while she and Mustang returned to their hotel room.
She was awoken earlier than preferred when Mustang shook her awake to tell her that Isaac McDougal had broken into Central Prison while they were asleep. They made their way to Central Command, Riza’s mind reeling. Why break in? Why leave without a prisoner? Why leave without Kimblee? She knew that if McDougal hadn’t broken Kimblee out, that they shared information. It was vital that they capture the ex-Freezing Alchemist.
It was late at night when Riza finally ran McDougal down. Earlier, Edward and Armstrong had managed to fight the man, but Riza brought a team with her to a roof where McDougal was escaping to.
“McDougal,” Riza greeted cooly, “it’s been a while.”
“Riza Hawkeye… or, the Flame Alchemist.” McDougal responded. “Do you feel no shame towards what us dogs and grime did in Ishval?”
Riza snapped, sending the large plumes of flame towards the man. It exploded against a fountain of water from a pipe in the roof, which burst a couple more and were quickly aimed at her.
“Flame will never beat water!” McDougal ran across a bridge of ice he created using the water that splashed Riza. She wiped some of it from her face, droplets splattering against the ground and seeping into her uniform.
With a simple huff, Riza turned and walked back towards the stairwell. She waved her hand, and the group followed.
At the ground, Riza walked through the streets, a trail of water following in her footsteps. Though, another thing was following in her footsteps too. “Colonel, your gloves?”
“Thank you, Captain.” Riza took a pair of gloves from the case Mustang was holding, dropping the wet ones in his waiting hands. She stepped forwards, tugging them on and looking around.
They were using bombs and shells against ice? How stupid were they– it was the ex-Freezing Alchemist. There was no shortage of water, especially in such a posh place like Central. Riza snapped her fingers, sending the wall of ice into flames. The men behind her started yelling and covering their faces, but Riza knew there was just one man there who didn’t flinch; same as Riza.
“Sir!” Mustang came up to her as the fire died out, leaving a flood on the pavement. “The ice– it’s making its way to Central Command.”
“Captain, bring me to the next place.” Riza ordered. She turned to the men with the artillery, “bring the flamethrowers.”
And so, Riza’s night was spent melting all the blockages of ice, snapping her fingers and getting Mustang to bring her information towards where she should head next– places where McDougal had put his alchemical arrays, which were causing the ice. Then, Riza was brought out towards the major roads required for people to commute in the morning, just to make the military’s job easier. Somewhere along the way, she was given intel that the Fuhrer had killed McDougal.
At least she was being paid overtime for it. As Riza was almost ready to go to bed in the hotel room, she glanced over at Mustang changing from the military uniform into pyjamas, the burns on his back pulling as he did. Riza looked away, dimming the light on the side of the bed. The fact that he was still willing to share a hotel room…
“Captain, send Edward some flowers before we return to East City.”
Ah, Mustang might be incompetent, but he could at least do little things for her.
“In that case, I suggest consulting with a specialist.” Riza pulled out the file. “The Sewing Life Alchemist, Shou Tucker.”
Riza knew that both of the Elric brothers were also amazed by just how… large, and sprawling the grounds were. The Tucker house was more than just a house; it was more like a small mansion. She rang the bell, stepping back and waiting. Thankfully after the whole McDougal and Liore cases, Riza was able to earn back some forgiveness from Edward by getting them to Tucker. While it was Mustang who offered up the lead, it was Riza who acted upon it.
Behind her, Edward screamed and Riza could hear his automail slam into the ground. Turning, a furry white mass sat where Edward once was. Riza looked back as the door opened, revealing a small girl and her father behind her.
Entering, Riza grimaced at the general feel of things. Alchemy books piled throughout the house. Dirty dishes and cups in the sink, just an overall mess of a house with the excuse of ‘without a wife’. They were served tea, and thankfully, Tucker agreed to share books and research with Edward and Alphonse.
“…though, if you are to know what is up my sleeve, I would like to know what is up your sleeve.” Tucker said. “Why are you looking into biological transmutation, Fullmetal Alchemist?”
Edward frowned deeper, so Riza took over. “The Elric brothers are from a farming town near Ishval. Some rogues passing through took his arm and disfigured his brother.”
“Ah, the Eastern Rebellion. No wonder the Hero of Ishval is helping you,” Tucker sighed, blinking as Edward took off his coat to show the automail, “and a fullmetal limb… I see. Well, shall I show you to my laboratory and library?”
Riza watched as the two boys immersed themselves into the books surrounding them. “I have to head to work. I’ll send one of my subordinates to come pick you up in the evening.”
“They have some incredible focus, don’t they?” Tucker hummed. “Able to tune out everything around them… there really are prodigies out there, hm?”
Riza quickly exited the house and made her way back towards Eastern Command. Being inside of that house, one with such unkemptness and a young girl living there… Riza just wished to immerse herself back into paperwork and her research report for Assessment Day.
“Sir, the Elric brothers?” Mustang called over from his desk. The sky was beginning to mix blues and oranges outside of her window.
Riza looked up, and the first person she saw… “Lieutenant Havoc, go pick up the Elric brothers from Shou Tucker’s house. Captain, give him the address.”
“Yes, sir.” Havoc sighed, flicking ash from his cigarette.
“Oh, and tell Tucker about Assessment Day,” Riza continued writing, “he mentioned it today.”
The next day, she sent Breda to pick up the Elrics.
The day after that, Riza was sent herself to pick up the Elrics, along with Tucker and his transmuted chimera. His own daughter.
“If ever there was an act of the devil in this world, this case would definitely have to be it.” Mustang said grimly as they slowly walked through Eastern Command.
“The devil?” Riza asked. “State Alchemists must be willing to act, and not refuse when ordered to take another's life. As far as dealing with others' lives, Mr Tucker's actions and our own positions are not all that far apart.”
They stepped outside, into the pouring rain. Riza handed her watchcoat to Mustang, letting him drape it over his shoulders before entering the downpour. If he couldn’t take off his jacket, might as well keep it as dry as possible. The least Riza could do for him. Mustang’s brow was furrowed. “And we chose this path, knowing that fact. Isn’t that right, Fullmetal?”
They stopped next to Edward and Alphonse.
“I apologise for bringing you two into this.” Riza looked down towards them. “But there will always be cases like this. There will always be a chance that you would have to dirty your hands.”
“Whether we get called dogs of the military or cursed as devils, Al and I are going to get our bodies back.” Edward stated. His voice was weak. “But even so, we're not devils, let alone gods.”
Riza took a step forwards, downwards to hell. Mustang followed immediately.
“We’re human.” Edward mumbled. Riza shut her eyes, feeling the rain on her skin.
“We’re human!” Edward sobbed, and Riza wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.
Riza didn’t use guns often.
Well, she rather liked guns while in the military academy. Their mechanics, how to aim them, the types, the materials… they all interested her. After becoming the Flame Alchemist, however, she mostly resorted to snapping her fingers and moving around oxygen.
But it was always handy to know how to use one. Especially in the rain.
“That’s far enough, Scar.” Riza stated, glancing away from the man to see Edward curled up on the ground, pieces of his automail arm scattered on the stones. “You’re to be taken into custody for being the culprit behind a string of State Alchemist killings.”
“Alchemists are those who change things from their natural form into something grotesque.” Scar stated. Riza didn’t lower the gun, instead aiming it at Scar. “That is to say, they profane God, the Creator of all things. As an agent of God, I am he who hands down his judgement. If you interfere, I will eliminate you as well.”
Riza took a shot, internally flinching as it just barely missed his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Colonel Hawkeye, we all know youre useless in the rain." Mustang smirked, cocking his gun.
“Captain Mustang, stay back.” Riza ordered, but her command fell on deaf ears and Mustang continued walking forwards, oozing overconfidence.
“Hawkeye, the Flame Alchemist?” Scar muttered. “To think that you would voluntarily come forward to receive judgement, what an auspicious day this is.”
“You dare challenge her?” Mustang grinned, arm raised and gun aimed. In his back holster sat another gun. “You clearly don’t know the Colonel at all!”
“Captain–” Riza cut in, rushing forwards.
Mustang let out a shot just as Scar reached him. Riza dropped to the ground and kicked Mustang’s ankle, making him fall backwards. While she was lowered, her leg slammed into the ground and dragged into a circle, creating a long spark that her glove quickly set alight into a larger inferno.
He let out a small, pained sound as Riza guided the oxygen particles towards Scar, making the flames grow. “Colonel!”
“You should follow orders and stay back, Mustang.” Riza raised her hands, guiding the fire forwards and driving Scar back. She quickly made a wall between Edward and Scar, back of her boots dragging against the stone street.
“I don’t know how you create flames in rain, State Alchemist, but it only proves that this is the devil’s craft.” Scar stated, his presence barely visible through the blaze.
Behind her, Havoc pointed it out. “What’s that? Her steps are making sparks.”
“The Colonel’s idea– put flint into the back of her boots so that she could make a spark.” Mustang grumbled as he stood. “It works as long as she has the array to control the fire.”
Riza continued striking her heels into the ground, making more and more sparkles of orange and yellow, grabbing on and refusing to let go as she weaved them around, keeping Scar busy while also making it so that some officers could rush over to Edward.
It was harder to control flames in the rain with how much resistance there was, but Riza pulled them away just as Armstrong started fighting. She tugged at the fingers of her glove, making them more comfortable with the dampness. “Why did he strip?”
“His logic is crazy, sir.” Havoc muttered back.
She looked over as Mustang loaded a shotgun and knelt down, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He may always present himself as an impatient person, but Riza knew snipers and she knew Mustang. He was completely willing to play the long game. He was willing to sacrifice hours to days waiting in the same position just to achieve one goal.
Riza furrowed her brow. “He’s an alchemist?”
It made sense. All of Scar’s victims looked like they were crushed from the inside-out– and what if that was the case? Comprehension, decomposition, and reconstruction was how transmutation worked. Was Scar only stopping at the ‘destroy’ stage? Even so, that was still technically classified as alchemy. “Why is he only going after those with State Certification?”
Mustang pulled the trigger once, twice, and his third landed. Riza kept her eyes trained on Scar. “Did you get any vitals?”
“He’s too fast– just a graze.” Mustang replied, and Scar turned, and Riza’s heart dropped along with Mustang’s jaw.
“He’s Ishvalan?” Riza whispered, horror slugging through her body and towards her brain.
No wonder he was out to kill State Alchemists.
“Don’t move.” Riza said, keeping her emotions and face under control. “You can’t slip out of–”
They covered their heads as blue energy crackled from where Scar put his hand. The large cloud of dust was quickly waved away, Riza being the first one to respond. Out of everyone standing at King’s Pass, she was the most used to waving smoke out of her face. Her lungs seared with the air of Ishval as she moved closer, looking at the damages.
“That bastard escaped into the sewers…” Mustang grumbled.
“Don’t follow.” Riza raised her hand.
“I’m not going after anyone that dangerous.” Havoc chuckled.
The rain began to slow as Riza tugged off her gloves.
It was sunny. The sun had no place in a funeral.
Riza didn’t flinch at the gunshots. She didn’t flinch at the sound of dirt piling onto the casket, she didn’t flinch as Elicia started crying.
She didn’t flinch as people began to leave.
But, an hour after the ceremony, even Gracia and Elicia took their leave. Riza felt the autumn chill as she walked up behind Mustang, coats blowing with the breeze. “Mustang.”
The man turned minisculely, hat still held under his arm. With his hair slicked back, it was almost unnatural– Riza only ever saw him like that for when he was about to act compliant and nice during military gatherings and parties. Not for anywhere like his best friend’s funeral.
“We alchemists are nasty creatures, aren’t we, Colonel?” Mustang asked humorlessly as he went back to looking down at Maes’ grave. “There’s a small part of me frantically piecing together the theories of human transmutation in my head.”
“Oh captain, my captain.” Riza mumbled.
“I think I can now understand what those boys felt when they tried to transmute their mother.” Mustang’s face was unreadable while he looked down at the headstone.
“I order you to never do it. Do you understand that command, Captain?” Riza dictated. “You are never to attempt human transmutation; you are never to think of the possibilities. No matter what happens now.”
Mustang kept quiet for another moment, eyes gazing downwards. “Yes, sir.”
“You are to follow me into hell. As any loyal subordinate will do; and it should not be the other way around.” Riza said. “My sins should outweigh your own.”
“At least the rain will never weigh you down.” Mustang put his hat back on, slowly.
“No. I will never let something as small as the rain stop me.” Riza answered.
“Hm. I deeply admire you for that, Colonel.” Mustang replied. “I get slow and cold and tired and achy and my scars hurt. And oh, it’s started to rain, sir.”
“What are you talking about?” Riza furrowed her brow, looking up. Small clouds painted pink and orange, too bright for such a terrible day. “There’s no–”
She looked back. Oh, the rain. There it was, rolling down his cheeks. “Yes, it is.”
“So it is.” Riza said. “Let’s go back. It’s getting chilly out here.”
Riza was always aware of the rumours.
Mustang made sure of it; they were always mean, dehumanising, utterly untrue. From the very beginning, Riza was always sure of the people against her and her career. It came with being a woman in the military; a high-ranking one, no less.
She heard whispers as she passed. Flame Witch, too young, little girl, whore, Hero of Ishval, monster, human weapon, dog, slut, housewife, Flame Alchemist.
Riza was going to prove them all wrong.
She knocked on the door; asked for the Fuhrer only to be told he was down south. The secretary told her apologetically that Riza was not high up enough to be allowed clearance of knowledge. Riza smiled right back as the woman said she was glad there were inspiring women in the military.
Riza went to her new office, next. Boxes piled up around the edges of the room, her subordinates’ desks either completely bare or overflowing with items. Chatter filled the room as they all unpacked, glancing over at the door to offer their greetings to her.
“So, Colonel, how’re you settling in?” Mustang asked.
“Well enough,” she replied briskly, “are we still working on the Scar case?”
“Yes, sir.” Mustang grinned, but it quickly fell from his face. “The Silver Alchemist, Giolio Comanche died last night. Confirmed to be Scar.”
Riza grimaced as she sorted through files, placing them in different cabinets. Beside her, Mustang went through books to place on the shelves. “Anything new, Mustang? The meeting is in three days.”
The military staff. Riza had to be all knowledgeable about the going-ons of politics, and Mustang was the buff in that area. Usually, as the only woman, Riza would just stay quiet at the back and not speak to anybody, but on the other hand, there were many superior officers who wanted to know if she deserved her place in the military.
“Mn. Liore’s uprising isn’t a good look for the East,” Mustang hummed, “especially not with the Civil War. That was already enough action for that side of Amestris for another two decades.”
“Under wraps, then?” Riza suggested.
“I’d suggest so.” Mustang dropped the empty cardboard box on top of Hayate. “Oops.”
“Captain.” Riza frowned, watching as Mustang picked the box back up and began jumping around with her dog. “Get back to work.”
Mustang and Hayate flinched, both turning towards her before separating.
Notes:
finally on ep 1! riza is much more efficient and in control and cooler than roy. she has backup in case the flames get wet, she saves her stupid subordinate, she keeps calm, she keeps ed under control.. damn. anyways their roles more change to roy acting more covertly and having riza be the face of his plans ☀️
Chapter 6: Regina (shop)
Notes:
i chatted a bit about code names in this fic here if you wanted
ehehe LUST
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The rare sighting of Roy actually doing his paperwork!!
It was boring as fuck.
Roy was only powering through with the knowledge that once it hit four in the afternoon, Riza was going to let him look into the Maria Ross case some more.
“Lieutenant Maria Ross herself is pleading not guilty.” Roy handed over the clipboard.
Riza stood there, flipping the page and reading through the report. “Gather all the materials you can pertaining to her. Be quick, but do it secretly.”
Roy got the clipboard back. “Yes, sir.”
Almost there. Ten minutes. He was almost giddy with the seconds passing.
“Captain Mustang, a call for you.” Riza called out. Roy looked from the clock to the commanding officer. She was sitting at her new desk, shoulders back, but with a hand covering the receiver. “Seeing as you’re clearly not working, I’ll tell Vanessa and Bunny to call on an outside line.”
“Vanessa and Bunny?” Roy murmured, before standing. “Send them to the one right outside– I’ll talk to those girls out there. What brought this up?”
“The coverage of Lieutenant Ross’ conviction, I assume.” Riza uncovered the phone, talking into it for another second before hanging up.
Roy stepped outside, the cool autumn air biting at his face and hands as he picked up the phone. “It’s Roy Mustang.”
“Oh, the Captain guy!” Barry said. “Well, about that lady, the one who’s in jail for that Hughes guy’s murder…”
Roy stayed in that box for twenty minutes, listening. Ross did shoot a bullet; but it was at Barry in the Fifth Laboratory. While Barry was talking, Roy’s mind was racing. Why was the military so quick to blame her? Did they need a scapegoat, to stop the questions? Why choose Lieutenant Ross– a past qualm, or simply availability? Who was behind it? Who was behind Liore? Who was behind Ishval?
“Say, Barry…” Roy hummed, “I’ll have to get the Colonel’s approval, but– it’s been so long. Wouldn’t you like to cut loose?”
“Cut, you say?” Barry gleamed, the wire making his voice more staticy combined with the armour. “Alright, I won’t kill nobody.”
Roy chuckled right back. “I’ll visit tonight, with Elizabeth.”
“Oh, why thank you, Regina!” Barry parried right back.
Roy placed down the phone with a content sigh. In his notebook, the edges of a great masterpiece of a plan. His fingertips were buzzing as he left, tightened against the notebook. He returned to the office, heading right up to Riza’s desk and saluting. “Sir!”
“Welcome back, Captain.” Riza hummed. “Did you have a nice talk?”
“I sure did, Colonel.” Roy grinned, handing over his notebook open to a page. “Told them I’d visit the shop tonight with Elizabeth.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer bringing Regina instead?” Riza responded, reading over his plan. “And these gifts… aren’t they a bit difficult to acquire?”
“For my girls, I’d do anything.” Roy answered.
“You’re in it for the long haul with these girls, aren’t you.” Riza shot back.
“Of course I am.” Roy adjusted his collar. “Though Edelweiss could get jealous.”
“No, no, I think it’s good.” Riza handed it back. “If you have any ideas about Edelweiss, you’ll come complaining to me again anyways.”
“You know me so well, Colonel.” Roy winked. “Would you be willing to help me out a little?”
Riza shot him a deadpan glare. “We’re a little past that, Mustang.”
“Great! Love you, Hawkeye!” Roy blew a dramatic kiss at her, and yiped as a stream of fire skirted around his arm.
Beyond his coworkers’ snickers, Roy could see the playful smile on her lips.
“Hey Elizabeth, how are you?”
Roy leaned back in Riza’s chair, propping his legs up on her desk. His finger made its way around the wire, cheek settled comfortably leaning against the receiver, pinky up on the delicate phone handset. A lazy grin made a home on his face, eyes relaxed and in love. His voice was loose and high-pitched– the term for it was ‘blindly in love’. In front of him, the officers snickered.
“Thanks for calling me as usual,” Riza said, her voice also lofty, “aren’t you supposed to be working, or else your scaary commanding officer will get mad at you?”
“That’s okay, she’s not in!” Roy smiled widely, giving a loud laugh. “I’m in command right now! I’m only able to call you now because of that.”
“Oh, she’s off?” Riza asked, and he could barely recognise her voice when it wasn’t commanding, or at least… focused. “Have you taken a day off in a while, Mr Roy?”
“No, I can’t think so.” Roy fiddled with the cord.
“Really?” She sounded incredulous at that, but Roy could hear the hint of playfulness. She was having a bit of fun acting.
“That’s right!” Roy sighed. “I haven’t had a day off since I got here, so I was thinking of taking some leave soon.”
“Are you going somewhere?” Riza asked, and he heard that shift in her voice that told him that she was genuinely listening.
“Lately, I’ve been caught up in fishing,” Roy grabbed one of Riza’s fancy pens from the desk, twirling it around in his fingers, “care to join me?”
“Mr Roy, we both know that I’d be doing all of the work catching those fish,” Riza teased. “You’d just sit back and say that you’re the one who got the equipment.”
“Don’t sound so ungrateful!” Roy laughed. “You make it sound like you wouldn’t want to come with me, you know?”
“Oh, so you plan on taking me?” Riza asked. “Anyone else?”
“Well, of course, the girls from the shop…” Roy said loudly, adjusting in Riza’s seat, “glad I’m leaving behind Edelweiss, though. That girl!”
“You quarrelled,” Riza sighed, “again?”
“She also hit you!” Roy protested lightly. “She’s ill-tempered– nothing like what a girl should be! I’m glad I’m deserting her!”
“Oh, what a mean man, Mr Roy,” Riza drawled, “making fun of a young girl like that.”
“Sorry for the aggression, Elizabeth.” Roy sighed, running a dainty hand through his hair. “I’ll make up for it– bring some chocolates for our date tonight, too.”
“How sweet,” Riza answered, “Kate, did you hear? Mr Roy wants to bring chocolates!”
“And Mr Roy, remember Regina?” Riza hummed, making Roy pause.
“What about her?” Roy teased. “Want me to get her a gift, too?”
“Well, it’s just that she’s a bit uptight right now,” Riza said carefully, “a bit snappish, too. The other girls at the shop are a little bit scared for her, you know? We all love Regina, it’s just that everything has been piling up on her, recently.”
Roy’s fake grin slid off his face. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“If you could just get her to have a nap, or maybe a good meal?” Riza suggested.
“I’ll see to it, Elizabeth.” Roy smiled fondly.
Of course it was the woman with big boobs that fooled Havoc.
“Did you tell this woman anything?” Roy asked.
“Not a word about work!” Havoc responded.
“Oh, Captain, I can’t believe you don’t even recognise me!” The lady stated.
Roy looked at her face. “Can’t say that I do.”
“My first attempt was with you, Captain,” the lady sighed evocatively, “but you only really have eyes for your precious Colonel, don’t you, pretty boy.”
Roy narrowed his eyes. “Please. I get too many girl’s numbers to remember a nobody like you. Now, do you know who Maes Hughes is?”
“He was a quick-witted man, wasn’t he?” She said coldly. “I’m only sorry I didn’t get the last blow.”
Roy’s finger jerked at the trigger. He went for the kneecap, a painful place to get a bullet stuck. “On your knees. Tell me everything you know.”
“Mm, I don’t think so,” red alchemical light surged from the wound, crackling around the room as she stood upright, “you two can’t get me on my kn–”
Roy took another shot. The solar plexus, the heart, the head, the tattoo on her sternum. She remained upright, red tendrils escaping around her. Homunculi… man-made people. Created with alchemy.
She started laughing cruelly. “Just what you’d expect from a sniper, hmm?”
“Homunculus!” Havoc shouted.
“My, aren’t you informed, Jean?” She smirked. “As a reward, I’ll show you this.”
Roy didn’t flinch as she pried her chest open, his eyes only widening as he saw what was inside. So that was how alchemy could create artificial humans. “Can you see it? It’s a Philosopher's Stone.”
“You’re a monster.” Roy spat.
“How rude. We have feelings, you know,” she drawled, fingertips extending into swords, “affection towards our parents. We are human.”
“If you’re telling us these important secrets out loud, then you don’t intend on keeping us alive.” Roy realised aloud.
“Yes, it’s a shame, too.” She hummed.
Roy grunted as something sliced through his skin, cutting his cheek and gun clean in half. He quickly reached back, pulling his second gun from the holster.
“Too slow!” She said smugly, hand reaching to the side again.
Roy let out a noise as her claws ripped through his left bicep, through two layers of military uniform and spurting out blood. Havoc quickly grabbed him, racing them outside of the room. “Damn!”
“Don’t worry, Mustang.” Havoc huffed, pulling something out. “This outta keep her a little pacified!”
He tossed what Roy quickly recognised as a grenade into the room, the two plugging their ears as an explosion rang out. They reentered the room to find most things absolutely destroyed, with some charred spots where the grenade landed.
“Ugh, this smell..!” Havoc muttered, a hand coming up to his nose.
“Burnt body.” Roy answered grimly. “This is what it smells like. Not something you’ll forget soon, hm?”
“From… from your time with the Colonel?” Havoc asked.
“My own experience,” Roy answered lightly, “keep watch. According to Alphonse, she can regenerate. We can never be sure–”
He was cut off with a strangled noise from Havoc, turning to see two of those claws piercing through his midsection. “Havoc!”
The man fell face-first to the floor, and behind, the Homunculus stood, regenerating her body and showing ribs, skin, bones, organs and the Philosopher's Stone coming back to life with red lightning.
Roy knelt down next to Havoc. “Havoc! Stay with me!”
“Oh, no. You can’t save him now.” She said.
“No!” Roy grabbed Havoc’s gun, immediately shooting between her eyes. When she fell from the recoil, Roy jumped up to pin her arm, reaching into her still-regenerating sternum and gripping the stone. Its energy hummed under his bare skin, warm like skin and pulsing like a heartbeat. “You have the way to save him!”
He braced himself and pulled back. Strings of muscles and veins kept the Stone in place. She screamed as it finally ripped free, then crumbling to ash a second later.
Roy hurried over to Havoc. “Sorry, I’m no specialist in medicinal alchemy…”
He quickly shifted Havoc’s body, turning him around into the recovery position. The stone began to heat up, making Roy look over to see–
“You should buy a girl dinner first, before sticking your hand in her chest.” She grumbled, eyes practically glowing red as the body regenerated around his hand, Roy’s bare skin in contact with flesh and muscles and tendons and veins.
“I’m still not dead. I told you, the Philosopher’s Stone is my core.” Her knifelike fingers dug into his stomach, making their way through like butter. Roy let out a strangled sound as she removed them, and more blood started gushing out as she dropped him. “It’s a good thing you’re dying. One less obstacle for our candidate.”
“You… bitch.” Roy spat, barely able to watch her kick away their guns. She laughed and walked out of the room, Roy taking deep breaths as he tried to turn towards Havoc. “Hey… Lieutenant Havoc. Answer me. Hey– you… can’t die before I do.”
Something slipped out while Roy was turning Havoc over. A lighter.
Roy grit his teeth. There was no choice. He had to go warn Riza and Alphonse. He flicked back the flint wheel and began to endure the worst pain of his life all over again.
Roy went back the way he came, stumbling and gripping at the impalement. The lighter was only a small compensation for actual medical care; it wasn’t focused like Riza’s Flame Alchemy. It was the best he could do for himself and Havoc. Roy hurried himself up, gripping the gun tighter. He’d patted Havoc down back there and picked two up, but it wasn’t going to replace the fact that one of Roy’s guns was gone. At least Havoc had a set of different weapons on him, as well.
As he got further, the walls were casted in dangerous oranges and reds. Roy stumbled further, following the snaps and what he recognised as… sobbing. They died out a second later, and Roy heard a body slumping against the floor, only feeling a little bit of relief as he heard the crying continue. He heard Alphonse shouting– Roy’s head was swimming too much to focus on what was being said, only being able to hang onto that anchor as he stepped further, towards a white room.
“I won't let anyone get killed anymore! I'll protect them!” Alphonse shouted.
“Well spoken, Alphonse!” Roy declared, raising the gun. Just as the woman turned around, Alphonse quickly clapped his hands and erupted a wall, letting Roy shoot her right between the eyes. More, more shots. Bullets echoed around the room, tinkling on the ground as each bang rang in harmony with Roy’s throbbing side. “Looks like I finally got you on your knees.”
She could barely look up before Roy pulled the pin of a grenade, launching it towards her head. He turned his body away as the explosion sounded. He recovered instantly and began shooting again, tossing away the gun when it ran out of ammo and reaching for the next one. “How did you– get here with your wounds?!”
Her head was still recovering from the explosion, showing her skull and hair regrowing, along with all the wounds of his gunshots. Parts of her flesh that got blasted apart were crumbling in the corners of his vision.
“I seared it shut using Havoc’s lighter,” Roy answered coldly, arm barely recoiling as more gunshots echoed, “almost passed out a couple of times, too.”
He tossed another gun away. “You said you still weren’t dead, right?”
Head. Neck. Sternum. Shoulder. Heart. Solar plexus. Stomach.
“Then I’ll just have to kill you until you’re dead!” Roy declared.
She slumped against the wall Alphonse created. Roy pulled yet another grenade, plugging his ears as the explosion blasted, giving her a second to recover as he grabbed his gun again. Roy didn’t flinch at any of the shots. “Captain!” Riza shouted.
Roy’s hand was steady.
That bitch helped kill Maes.
No forgiveness. No forgiveness.
She made Riza cry.
Roy tossed away his final gun, it clattering against the ground and empty of ammo. She struggled to get up, enveloped completely with alchemical energy. “Well well, out of tricks?”
“Not yet.” Roy hissed, pulling out the third and final grenade.
Roy’s ears began to ring severely as the explosion rang out in front of him, giving Roy the chance to reach into his breast pocket– finding familiar gloves against his fingertips.
It had been years since he’d used Flame Alchemy.
The Homunculus struggled to push herself up, breathing heavily as she watched one slip onto his right hand. He couldn’t hear her voice over the ringing, but the movement of her face was enough to tell him of her shock. He could only guess what inhumane screeching was coming from her mouth.
Roy didn’t dignify it with a response as he arched his arm forwards, same as he would with a gun. Muscles tightened, fingers twitched, and he snapped.
Flames roared out. He could barely control the reaction– disuse, but he managed to keep it away from the wall and himself. He focused in on the alchemy, shifting oxygen particles and controlling the hydrogen, making them collide and combust quicker as the Homunculus struggled forwards, sharp finger pointed at his eye.
The fire died out. Roy created a new one.
He stared forwards as she started crumbling away.
Roy felt his stomach turning severely.
It was the house. It was the damn house.
He was supposed to be over it. It was six years ago.
Roy became used to the smell of iron; it came with being a soldier. No, it was the environment that was setting him off. An abandoned house, in the middle of nowhere, with nobody to hear the screams. That Xingese girl, with the cloth gag and only the slightest amounts of pain medication– Roy’s only barest memory of that day was his first scream and the pain that came with it. He listened to her muffled screams and felt his heart hurt as he realised that was what Riza had to listen to. The smell of antiseptic was what made it worse, too.
Roy had to continue to remind himself to breathe deeply as he adjusted his grip on the shotgun. Calm. Calm.
Doctor Knox emerged from the room, stating that the operation was done. Roy shuffled in right behind Fullmetal and Alphonse, the Xingese prince Ling following quickly after.
“Captain, you go and take watch.” Riza said gently. “That’s an order.”
Roy grit his teeth but decided to cave, nodding and stepping back.
She was also having a hard time. Roy stepped out into the night, feeling the slightest bit better as the late autumn breeze hit him. In the distance, the sky was lit as if morning by the lights of Central City. Rolling fields and lush trees swayed through the night.
The shotgun leaned on his shoulder, making him hunch to the right to try and mitigate the pain from the impalement. He grit his teeth and looked around, taking lungfuls of clean air. Not filled with damp wood or overflowing blood or sharp medicines.
Yelling from within. Roy clung to Fullmetal’s young voice and the Ling guy arguing right back, Alphonse cutting in as well. His face remained steely as he turned back to the house. Nobody was going to be going all the way out into the countryside.
His hand on the doorknob, and the wall to his left got completely obliterated.
Roy noted how the light pollution only got worse in the middle of Central City.
“The gates of glory, or the entrance to hell?” Roy hummed.
Riza stood just a couple of steps in front of him, looking up at Central Command. The emblems of green with silver dragons stared back at them, and Roy couldn’t be sure if it was for the defenders of heaven or guardians of hell.
“Captain, you wait here.” Riza ordered. “If anything happens to me, you need to escape.”
“No, sir.” Roy answered, a hint of astonishment making its way into his voice.
Riza slowly turned around. “That’s an order.”
“I cannot obey it.” Roy responded.
Riza glared at him. “You’ve been stubborn ever since you set foot in my house, Mustang.”
“You knew that plenty well, Colonel.” Roy teased right back. “I bothered you far too much.”
“You’ve never apologised,” Riza huffed, “but all right. Wait here for when I come back.”
“Can’t let go of your chauffeur,” Roy smirked, saluting, “yes, sir.”
He watched as she went up the steps, heading inside. He lowered his arm, instead pressing it against the bandages on his side. Shit, it was acting up at the worst times possible. From running away from Gluttony to trying not to throw up from the memories of an abandoned townhouse to standing and talking to Riza, it was worse than usual.
Roy fumbled with the door handle, yanking open the car door and slowly lowering himself inside. There, he checked his gun for bullets and reloaded it. He then went to check if Riza’s gloves were still in his breast pocket, and then to adjust his bandages.
Yes indeed, he was in it for the long haul. The job of a sniper.
Notes:
IVE WANTED TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER SINCE THE BEGINNING... roy vs lust but she has no use for him. he doesnt have flame alchemy at first. i want things to mostly stay with canon but some things forced to change, and this chapter is a lot about different abilities and trauma loll (basically riza is biq and roy is iq) 💨
Chapter 7: Flame Witch
Chapter Text
“Very well. You are all dismissed.” Wrath hummed.
They all stood, Riza slipping the watch back into her pocket. It would be too heavy near her heart. “May I ask another question, your excellency?”
“What is it, Colonel?”
“Are you the one who killed Hughes?”
Riza could feel Edward and Alphonse jerk their heads towards her. Riza’s fingers found her ignition gloves in her pocket.
“No, I’m not the one.” Wrath responded.
“Then who was it?” Riza asked.
“I agreed to one question.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Riza glared, saluting mockingly before heading to the door.
The brothers followed until Wrath– “wait a second, Alphonse.”
Riza turned just as Wrath impaled his sword through Alphonse’s side– through the leather gaps in the metal. As he removed the sword, there was no blood. Riza furrowed her brow; who was inside of Alphonse?
“Was– was there something..?” Alphonse stammered.
“No, you are dismissed.” Wrath responded, still inspecting his blade.
Riza had to take a second to calm her thudding heart as they exited, and she closed the doors. Once they shut, both Edward and Alphonse collapsed into shivers.
“That was close..!” Alphonse shook.
“Well?” Riza asked. “Who is that?”
“Um– the Xingese girl,” Alphonse stammered, “with the black and white cat.”
“Colonel, what happened?” Edward asked. “The team–”
“–will be fine,” Riza said huffily, taking a short step, “how about you two?”
They started following. “We’re fine. Brother, Ling, and Envy got sucked into Gluttony’s stomach.”
“It’s a mess-up of the Gates of Truth,” Edward explained, “a bucket-load of nothing between Truth and reality. I managed to transmute us out of there.”
“To underneath Central– all the Homunculi, they’re under there.” Alphonse continued. “Envy brought us up here, to you.”
“I see.” Riza murmured, stepping outside of Central Command. “I’m glad you two are safe.”
“What about you, Colonel?” Alphonse asked. “What happened after you came here?”
“I learnt some things about the Fuhrer– the Homunculus, Wrath.” Riza responded. “This plan to infiltrate the military has been around since this country’s creation.”
They made it down most of the steps. Riza hurried down the last ten or so, turning the corner to see the car, and– “Major Armstrong?”
“Colonel Hawkeye!” Armstrong sparkled. “And Alphonse and Edward Elric!”
“Major!” Edward gasped. “What’re you doing here?”
“Where is my Captain?” Riza asked, some urgency leaking into her voice.
“Here, sorry!” From behind, Mustang popped out and saluted. “Bathroom break; the Major was passing by.”
“Always happy to help, Captain.” Armstrong glimmered.
Riza turned to Mustang. “You didn’t run away?”
“I’m far too deep into this to even attempt it,” Mustang chuckled, black eyes flashing dangerously, “and it seems like I’m not exactly your Captain anymore, sir.”
Edward stepped closer to Mustang. “Oh yeah, Captain. Give me whatever pocket change you have on you.”
“First time we see each other after a life-threatening experience, and this?” Mustang grumbled, but he still pushed his hand into his pocket. He dug out some coins, only to get them snatched immediately, as if Edward was a vulture.
“Just give it to me!” Edward huffed, opening his metal hand to count it out. Mustang watched over his shoulder, “not much, huh?”
“What are you, a shakedown artist?!” Mustang shot back.
“Boys.” Riza said haughty. Armstrong just watched in shock.
“Meh, whatever. Bye.” And Edward rushed off, Alphonse trailing behind.
“Sorry, Colonel! We’ll report back later!” Alphonse turned slightly as he continued jogging.
“What the..?” Mustang watched the brothers swerve down the corner of Central Command.
“It’s fine. We have to get into contact with the team.” Riza opened the car door, entering the passenger’s seat. Armstrong opened the back door.
“Right, right…” Mustang mumbled, easing himself into the driver’s seat.
“Hayate! Down.” Riza ordered.
The dog jumped up from Edward, padding over to her and sitting down. She sighed. “Hello, Edward. Sorry about that.”
“No problems, Colonel,” Edward greeted, picking himself up, “came to return this.”
She heard his story out further in detail. The stomach of Gluttony, the evils of Envy, the truth about what was underneath their country. Riza prepared them some tea as she soaked the gun in water. Later, she would hand it over to Mustang so that he could properly restructure the gun for her. She sat wiping them dry as Edward continued talking quietly.
He really had grown, hadn’t he?
“But then, you have to keep living.” Riza inspected a bullet, shining in the light. “For the sake of all those important to you. Protect her.” Edward took a sip. Riza looked back down. “You love her, don’t you?”
He spat it out. Black Hayate yiped. Riza glanced upwards so that she could see his beet red face and stammering as he tried to deny it. “I apologise. This gun was not meant to be a burden to you.”
“Is it… a burden for you?” Edward asked slowly. “For Mustang?”
“I don’t shoot people,” Riza laid out all the pieces, “I burn them. Shooting is Mustang’s job. He isn’t wasteful; he only ever uses one bullet per person. He makes them feel the least amount of pain possible before they die, and that is the best he can do.” Edward remained silent as Riza inhaled. “And besides, the two of us chose this path.”
“Is it okay if I ask you about Ishval?” Edward asked, and she was glad he wasn’t skirting around it. “One State Alchemist to another?”
Riza’s eyes hardened as she looked down at the pieces all laid out on the towel. She would have to restructure the gun herself. Or at least, give her hands something to do while talking. “It was hell.”
She finished with the gun rather quickly into their talk. Riza spoke calmly, recounting her time there. The sands soaking up blood, the sunburn and poisonous creatures, the lack of water or supplies. The heat of day and the freezing nights, how her flames ripped through villages and cities, destroyed people and ancient texts indiscriminately. How they viewed State Alchemists as nothing more than weapons, never as people after Order 3066. She started telling Edward about Mustang’s goals.
“But even if the Captain becomes Fuhrer, it wouldn't change the militaristic element of this country.” Edward noted.
“You're right.” Riza hummed. “Congress pretty much exists as the army's puppet right now. Someone would need to change that and turn this country into a democracy. For this country to be reborn, all the faults that existed from the militaristic regime will have to be scrubbed away.”
“Faults?” Edward asked.
Riza ran her finger around the edge of the cup. “For example, the government may have to pass judgement on those who committed atrocities during the Ishval Extermination.”
His face melted into horror. Riza felt her heartbeat sluggishly. “That's right. The heroes during the troubled times are nothing but mass murderers during times of peace.”
“So the Captain is reaching for the top while knowing about all this?” Edward scoffed. “He's only on a path of self-destruction! The Homunculi were the ones pulling the strings.”
“Even if the Homunculi were the ones who triggered it, we're the ones who committed the atrocities.” Riza was the Flame Witch. “We mustn't turn away from death. We mustn't forget the ones we killed. Because they'll never forget the ones who killed them.”
Even in prison, Kimblee continued to pester and haunt her. Riza gripped her mug tighter. “Mustang wants to make up for my atrocities as well.”
“Huh?”
Riza hesitated. “He is the one who gave me Flame Alchemy. He holds all of the research notes, and feels guilt towards the fact he gave them to me so that they could be used to slaughter a race of people.”
“Mustang has Flame Alchemy?” Edward whispered. “But he’s too ambitious to not use it– to become the second Flame Alchemist! Al told me about the fight with Lust, that there were two huge fires that were probably alchemy?”
“Being insignificant to the brass had its perks to him,” Riza explained, “and we agreed that this alchemy is far too dangerous to have more users. He had me burn it.”
“So… there's nothing, anymore?” Edward confirmed. “Nothing with Flame Alchemy?”
“This knowledge will die with me,” Riza answered. She twisted her face into a small smile. “Don't you have something to do before you start worrying about us? Both you and Alphonse need to get your bodies back. I'm sure a lot of people are waiting for the day you reach your goal.”
Edward remained quiet for a second. “Yeah. I'll definitely get my body back, together with Al.”
At that, he tensed. “Al!”
“He's waiting for you?” Riza asked, gathering their mugs.
“He’s with Doctor Knox, so I wanted to meet up with him,” Edward smiled faintly, “thanks for the coffee.”
That wasn't all it was about, but Riza walked him to the door. As he stepped out, he turned. “Isn't having all your men spread across the country the same thing as them being hostages? You okay, Colonel? Is… Mustang okay with being the Fuhrer’s assistant?”
Riza let out a small laugh. “He's already talking about smuggling out classified documents and poisoning the Fuhrer’s tea and cakes. He’ll be fine.”
Edward snorted. “Of course.” He sobered up. “And um, Scar’s been lurking under Central, by the way.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Riza hummed. More information for Mustang, possibly warning her as a State Alchemist.
“Colonel?” Edward said.
“Yes?”
“Thanks for telling me about Ishval.”
Riza was continuing on with her paperwork when a knock came to her door.
Two taps and one knock from the foot. One of her trusted confidants, then. “Excuse me, Colonel,”
The door opened, and the tightness in Riza’s chest alleviated as Roy Mustang entered her office. He shut the door behind him and headed over to the desks. “Forgot some things,”
“Of course you did, Captain.” Riza scoffed playfully. She watched as he rustled around in his old desk. “Did you hear that Scar is lurking underneath Central?”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mustang flashed her a grin, showing the chessboard he grabbed, “too bad you won’t have an amazing bodyguard to protect you.”
Riza sighed, pen still held lax in her grip. He started off to the door, making it halfway before stopping. “Please don’t go dying, sir.”
Riza blinked. “Okay. It… must make you anxious, then.”
“I may have picked the wrong person to side with,” Mustang smirked, turning around.
“If you were wrong, shoot me dead.” Riza said, placing her pen down. “You made that promise to me.”
Mustang blinked, his onyx eyes boring into her hazel. “What brought this along? You don’t usually talk about that.”
“Memories.” Riza said.
“Well, you aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” Mustang joked, “should’ve sent me to Briggs if they really wanted to separate us.”
“Maybe having Falman around wouldn’t be too bad,” Riza hummed right back.
He walked to the door, spinning on his heel and saluting. “Well then, Colonel, see you later.”
“Later.” Riza stood as well, saluting right back. He opened the door, and Riza found she didn’t want Mustang to leave. “Don’t go skipping on your duties. The Fuhrer shouldn’t be as lax as I am.”
Mustang chuckled, chess pieces rolling underneath his arm. “Yeah, yeah.”
The door clicked shut, and Riza was alone all over again.
Riza blinked her eyes hard, trying to remove the morning grogginess from it.
Mustang was good at removing all of her tiredness quickly. And it was what he was doing at that moment. “Good morning, Colonel!”
“Captain,” Riza greeted, “good morning.”
They continued up the steps, into Central Command. Mustang stuck his hands into his pocket. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” Riza said offhandedly, “an increase in paperwork is all.”
“If only you had an amazing assistant to help you, but alas.” Mustang mused teasingly, before returning to a stoic face. “What happened with the Elrics?”
Ah, of course. He’d just barely managed to tell her that General Grumman recognised a black and white cat they were searching for, and that the owner was heading north. Riza took the advice and asked Major Armstrong to tell them to head north. Both of them were becoming far too busy appearing like they weren’t against the military with all the people trailing them. “Left for the north early last night.”
“Have you seen them recently?” Mustang hummed. At least in Central Command, they could have a chance to talk without people specifically trailing them, but they had to be careful anyways.
“Edward came around to my apartment to return something two nights ago,” Riza gestured subtly towards the holster at his side, “and we talked a little bit.”
“You told Fullmetal about Ishval?” Mustang asked quietly. “And my goal?”
“He told you?” Riza hummed.
Mustang grumbled. “That kid is gonna kill me one day, I swear.”
“You saw him recently, too.” Riza mentioned.
Mustang rubbed at his nape. “Chauffeured him and Alphonse.”
Riza smiled coyly. “He said something wise to you too, didn’t he.”
Mustang sighed loudly, stopping at a corner. “Looks like we part ways here, Colonel.”
“Saved by the job,” Riza said dryly, “goodbye then, Captain.”
He saluted her with a boyish smirk.
Riza had a bad feeling as she entered the house. For some reason, it was foreboding.
“Apologies, I was looking for Captain Mustang?” Riza stated. “I wasn’t sure of his whereabouts, especially since we planned to meet with an old friend from the war today…”
“Oh, the Captain left a couple of hours ago…” the Fuhrer’s wife hummed as she walked down the stairs, “I’m sorry.”
So nobody knew where he was. Riza swiped her bangs from her face. “I deeply apologise for intruding, missus. For waking you, as well.”
“Not to worry, not to worry,” the lady smiled, and Riza felt her stomach clench at the innocence of that woman towards who her husband truly was.
“Well, then, I will take my lea–” Riza started, only to flinch and turn. Her body felt like it was being crushed by a building for a second, removing all the air from her lungs and strength from her limbs.
Instead of what she perceived as a threat, there stood little Selim Bradley.
“Selim, you’re still up?” The missus chided.
“I heard someone knock at the door,” he answered shyly, “and thought that maybe father came home.”
“This is Colonel Hawkeye,” the woman introduced.
“Good evening, Miss Hawkeye.” He repeated.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said.
“Are you still working this late?” Selim asked.
Riza kept on her gentle smile. “Just searching for someone who is. I’m sorry to have awakened you.”
“Come along, Master Selim.” One of the butlers stepped forwards. “You must go to sleep, or else you will be tired tomorrow.”
“Okay!” Selim responded, giving a little wave as he followed after the butler.
The two women watched him leave. “A sharp son you have, missus.”
“Isn't he? I'm so proud of our son.” She hummed. “If he were our biological son, you might call me a doting mother, but since he is adopted, I can be unreserved in my pride.”
Riza recalled that information from Mustang as the Fuhrer’s wife continued. “Though, since he's the boy of a distant relative on the Bradley side, perhaps his good traits come from my husband's lineage.”
Riza’s eyes widened. “He's not one of your distant relatives?”
“No,” she said such vital information so casually that Riza could barely inhale any air at all.
Riza walked briskly through the outdoor hallway, her greatcoat billowing behind her. She’d heard the story from Wrath himself; he was raised as a lab baby and test subject for the Homunculi. He was set on his position towards Fuhrer from birth, competing with other lab babies. He had no living relatives.
That sensation from before… that boy…
“So you’ve figured it out?”
Riza stopped in her tracks, body stiffening as she instinctively reached up for her breast pocket– the ignition gloves. She stopped just short of her fingertips brushing the uniform.
“I don't know what l'm going to do with my stepmother. She loves to talk.”
Riza clenched her hand into a fist, body taunt like an arrow.
“Earlier, just for a moment, I sensed an odd bloodlust.” Riza stated. “I've felt it before, somewhere… however, now I remember it clearly. It's the same sensation as when the Homunculus Gluttony surprised me from behind.”
Riza drew a shallow breath, beads of sweat forming at her forehead. “Selim Bradley… just who exactly are you?”
She could feel the malice from behind. “You have a lot of courage asking my true identity, under these circumstances, Colonel Hawkeye.”
“You also show keen judgement in deciding not to resort to Flame Alchemy,” Selim noted, “you would be unable to beat me.”
“Are you a Homunculus, like Gluttony?” Riza asked levelly, before backtracking. “No, I sense a pressure coming from you that Gluttony couldn't hold a candle to.”
“It offends me that you would even consider us to be on the same level.” Selim said haughty. “My name is Pride, the first Homunculus.”
“The first Homunculus…” Riza repeated, “what does that mean?”
“Just what I said.” Pride answered, and Riza felt something wrapping around her legs, rising up, grabbing at her arms and coiling against her neck. “You tried to extract even a little information, didn't you? You truly are just as ambitious as they say, Colonel.” Riza remained still as the end of one of the things reached her cheek. “Are you sure you won't become one of us?”
“One of you? You just want more pawns, right?” Riza scoffed.
“I see. That is too bad. Well, then…” Pride sighed, forcing Riza’s hand upwards. She barely let out a sound as the thing sliced through her cheek, making a little droplet of blood fall.
“I'd rather you didn't make such empty threats.” Riza said. “There’s no purpose in killing a candidate for a sacrifice, right?”
“How well you understand things.” Pride withdrew the things from her, slithering them away into what appeared to be the shadows of night. “However, Colonel Hawkeye… I will always be watching you, from your shadow.”
And then the impending feeling of doom disappeared. Well, as much as Pride leaving. Riza jerked around anyways, searching for wherever the Homunculus could have gone. There was no trace of him.
From… her shadow.
Riza hurried home. Each step was taken with far more fear than she usually had, more urgency than usual. She wiped the blood from her face before heading into her apartment building, grabbing her key quickly and twisting the lock.
When the door opened, she was met by darkness. Even as a child, Riza hadn’t been scared of the dark. The only pitch black that had scared her were Roy Mustang’s piercing eyes.
She flipped on the lights, heart recovering from a quick scare with Hayate. She slid to the floor, her dog padding up to her. Riza sighed. The shadows… knowing the Homunculi, his threat could very much mean literally.
Riza flinched as the phone began to ring.
Once. She stared at the phone.
Twice. She slowly picked herself up.
Thrice. She walked over carefully.
Quarce. She picked up the phone.
“Yes?” Riza’s voice was far too husky for her to feel calm.
“Hello hello, this is your neighbourhood florist!”
All the tension immediately left her body.
“What is this about, Captain?” She asked, exasperated.
“Sorry. I got drunk and bought a whole bunch of flowers.” Mustang responded. “I'd be grateful if you'd take some of them from me.”
Riza rubbed at her face, coming back with cold sweats. Mustang’s voice changed from his playful high-pitched to baritone serious. “What’s wrong?”
Riza’s eyes widened. He… knew something was wrong?
“Did something happen?” Despite how much he wanted to hide it, Riza could hear the concern in his voice.
“No, it’s nothing.” Riza answered.
“Are you sure?” He highly doubted her.
“Yes, it’s nothing.” She responded. “I’ll pass on the flowers. I don’t have any vases here. Thank you for taking the time to call me, though. Goodbye.”
She placed down the phone, turning back to Hayate. He looked up at her, black eyes shimmering in the hall lights. Riza crouched down, taking him into her arms. “How is his timing so spot-on?”
She found a vase with flowers at her door the next day.
Notes:
two of my favourite talks in one chapter.. the ishval one is huuge because like. its riza retelling her trauma in detail to a kid who hasnt really cared about it until now, showing its a sign of growth from him AND her. the obvious florist talk is ICONIC like they know each other soo well. royy. incredibly romantic but maybe choose a different time 🌼
Chapter 8: Flame Alchemy
Notes:
so my chemistry rant is niobium (named after the greek niobe and her myth is about- *gets sniped by roy*
anyways roys wearing the 520 cenz promise fit during the coup
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roy had called fifty-four girls and still had a quarter of the flowers left.
Why was getting rid of flowers so hard?! Maybe he would finally have to look at all the numbers that random girls had given him…
His first thought when it came to flowers was Riza. She would probably be the type of person to prefer something prickly like cacti, something she doesn’t have to nurture and which can protect itself. But then, she also enjoyed keeping that bunch of impatiens in the office four years ago, taking care of it by watering it daily and setting it in the sun for short periods. Maybe something pretty, but reliable to care for?
Those thoughts were eradicated at her hesitation. Something was wrong– he rushed to her apartment, thoughts racing and gun tucked in his pocket, only to hear her muffled voice through the door scolding Hayate.
Roy stopped right there, out of breath and the injury at his side throbbing, one hand on his gun and the other wrapped around a bouquet. His arm grew pained by carrying it, so he set the bunch of blue hyacinths down at the door. Right there, Roy looked around and spotted the most ugly vase he’d ever seen. It was fucking hideous– nobody would miss that revolting thing.
Roy drew the transmutation circle on the floor, placing the vase in the middle. He wasn’t an expert in solids like Fullmetal, but he could do something to make the vase look decent.
Satisfied with his work, Roy left the bunch at the door and headed to his next stop. The slums of Central City, toward the brothels. The correct knock– two taps from a finger, one thud, then three raps from the knuckle –let him in.
With some flowers, what better time than to tell his aunt that she needed to leave? She had to take her girls and run– out of the country. With some begrudging acceptance, Aunt Chris started making plans to smuggle her girls out on a vacation– and Roy felt ready to leave them.
They always had that kind of relationship– going for months without contact, and then suddenly returning to each other. Even after all the atrocities he’d done in Ishval, she’d welcomed him home with open arms. When he disappeared for a month while healing from the burning, she hadn’t mentioned it in the slightest. Aunt Chris continued to be a pillar in his life, and through all he’d done and been through, Roy was glad of her.
Roy sighed, putting on his military uniform the next morning. He still had two dozen bouquets left– he didn’t know what to do with them anymore. Roy left a lot of them at military graves, people he fought with and respected, more than the rest at Maes’ grave –but he still had to get rid of them. Possibly hand them out to women at Central Command, but it would draw suspicions from Wrath and the other Homunculi.
At Central, Roy waited outside with two coffees as the person he was searching for came up to him. “For you, my lady.”
She sent him a monotone face while taking the coffee. “Thank you,”
The rise at the end of Riza’s voice let Roy know it wasn’t just the coffee she was talking about. They headed up the steps.
“Do you still have flowers left?” Riza asked.
Roy groaned in response.
“Don’t get drunk the day before work, then.” Riza was watching him gauging his response.
“I know, I know.” Roy kept his voice on the edge of playful whining and deadly serious, letting her know which it truly was.
“Maybe you would like to talk at lunch?” Riza offered, but the glimmer in her eyes told a different story.
Roy raised his eyebrows and hummed. “If you so desire, sir.”
Roy was supposed to be above making tea and cakes! He was a Captain, for fuck’s sake!
And yet there he was, preparing tea. Something wayy below his pay grade. Roy couldn’t really complain, though– nobody nagged him to do paperwork! Gave him plenty of time to think, to plan, to strategize… the only problem was that he was, well, a hostage. Roy went through the periodic table in his mind as he grabbed the simmering water. Vanadium, chromium, manganese, iron…
“I understand you’ve found out about my true identity.” Wrath stated.
“Yes, sir.” Roy answered, hesitating as he went to pour the water into the pot.
“As one of the country’s people, how do you feel, knowing the one at the top is a Homunculus?” Wrath asked.
Roy stared down at the tray. Cobalt, nickel, copper, zinc… what should he say? Roy wasn’t supposed to know that Selim Bradley was a Homunculus. Even so, it was a cruel thing to do to the missus if she was truly just human. Roy… had strong feelings about adoption, as his aunt’s adopted nephew. “I feel sorry for your wife and son in their made-up family. What was supposed to be a happy adoption is nothing but a cover-up. It’s unfortunate that they will feel no real love from you, someone who pretends to be something they look down upon.”
Wrath hummed, his steps echoing around the large room. Roy would assume he went to look out the windows at the grey sky. “My son was given to me. Everything, from my position to all of my men were given to me.”
“You’ve never had to work up to anything, ever.” Roy said. He poured out the tea. Gallium, germanium, arsenic. “You’ve never experienced poverty, or parents, or war, or free will, or truly even death. I will pity you for that.”
“My wife, however, was someone I chose.” Wrath said. Roy’s eyes slid over, tactically. “Is the tea ready?”
Selenium, bromine, krypton. “Yes, sir.”
Roy brought it over, the tray with the sad, singular cup in the centre. Wrath took it and drank a small sip. “Delicious.”
…rubidium, strontium, yttrium, zirconium…
Niobium…
As dawn broke, Roy looked at the distance of Central City, and even further towards Central Command.
“Move out, men!” Riza called out. The Promised Day had begun.
Roy walked next to Riza, gun out and ready. Beside him walked the Fuhrer’s wife, terrified out of her mind. He made sure to stay close to her; he was the only one in their small group that she knew rather well. Out of the rest of them, the missus only barely knew Riza just by name.
Roy furrowed his brow. He had to focus; the drugs he’d used to help himself sleep wore off long ago. He’d transmuted some barbiturates and took the day off of work so that he could time everything correctly, having the sleeping drug wear off at eleven in the night to visit Aunt Chris and blow up his childhood home. Then, he used the schedule he stole from Wrath to kidnap the missus, and Roy then made a trip to Maes’ grave for what was possibly the last time. Then, it was off to take over his government.
Their first stop was a factory commonly known to hire child labourers. One snap of Riza’s fingers, and the place blew up long just before anyone was to be there– he could see the workers milling around, then scream as their job went up in flames. He turned around and winked at them, Riza and Breda holding up their weapons towards the Fuhrer’s wife. “That’s Colonel Riza Hawkeye, Flame Alchemist. We have the Fuhrer’s wife hostage.”
“Finally get to leave the talking to you, Mustang.” Riza mused.
Roy laughed. “Finally get credit for all my hard work over the years!”
Going around Central was easy– they walked on the roads, weaving between main and side and alleyways, Riza snapping at any random car and making the gas tanks combust. She sent some flames up in the air like fireworks, causing some of the flames to make the roads to bubble up into liquid bitumen. Roy constantly had to pester her to be more flashy. Breda and Furey laughed along with their antics.
The MPs quickly came. They were easy to scare when she snapped her fingers, did some party tricks– Central was far too unprepared for anything. Being at the– well, centre of everything –they didn’t have to worry about direct attacks and defence more than just deploying troops to attack. It made Central soft and cushy, something Roy was completely relying on for his coup to work.
“Colonel Hawkeye! Put your hands up!” One MP ordered.
“Why the hell would you tell her that?!” Another shouted.
“You’re still calling her a Colonel?!” The other agreed.
Riza raised her hands, snapping at the same time. The street in front of them got completely obliterated as a path formed in the middle for the team. They had to make it to Warehouse Six as quickly as possible for the rendezvous. Through the screams and flame, Roy could see that they were exactly as before; frightened but perfectly unharmed.
Roy adjusted his vest. He was dressed up all nice; no point in looking like he crawled out the sewers (though he actually did) when he overtook the government. Might as well look all stylish while he committed treason against Amestris.
“Captain, I’m being too flamboyant,” Riza complained.
“You’re finally getting out some pent-up anger, sir.” Was his reply. “Isn’t it fun?”
Riza sighed. “We have to hurry to Central Command and get underneath,”
Roy hummed noncommittally, giggling in the same breath.
“Congratulations, Colonel Hawkeye, you’ve finally reached your culprit.”
And yes, something inside of Roy snapped.
He took a step forward, gun raised. “Oh, no. That has never been her goal.”
Through the smug facade, Envy had a second of doubt flash by their face.
“I don’t see how someone like you killed Maes.” Riza said, hands forced lax at her sides.
“Someone like me?” Envy leered. “No, it’s someone like… him for falling for such a cheap trick!”
Roy’s heart dropped as red lightning enveloped the Homunculus, transforming it into Gracia. Maes’ wife. Envy used..! His face twisted into horror, muscles tightening as he fought the urge to step away in disgust.
Oh, Roy was going to fucking kill Envy and enjoy it.
“Hah! That’s the same face that Hughes made when I killed him!” Envy cackled. “That look when his own wife shot him– it was terrific!”
“That settles it.” Roy said, voice edging between forced calm and raging. “You killed Hughes– that’s all I need to know. You don’t have to say anything else, Envy.” Roy raised his gun again, breathing deeply as he did. “I’ll start… by shooting that tongue right out of your mouth!”
Roy stepped forwards, beyond Fullmetal and Riza. “Scar, Fullmetal, Colonel… let me take this. This is my fight.”
Envy started laughing at him. “Like a gun would kill me!”
“You have a lot of confidence, going against the person who killed Lust.” Roy growled.
“Like Lust would’ve died to scum like you with just a couple of bullets.” Envy spat.
“Oh, no.” Roy placed his gun back into its holster, reaching up for his breast pocket.
“Mustang.” Riza whispered, and Roy ignored it as he pulled out the ignition gloves.
One onto his left hand. He pulled it taunt. “Guns weren’t the only firepower I had on her!”
“Captain?” Fullmetal gaped.
“Go, Fullmetal. You have something you have to do.” Roy said, but the only thing he saw was red. His right hand found his gun again.
The chimera agreed, calling for Fullmetal. Envy stopped them with a hand, and Roy felt a sick sense of pleasure as he emptied a shot on the things’s mouth. “Are you sure you can afford to talk while facing me? I’ll say you got quiet after getting a bullet in your mouth. They’re nasty tools, aren’t they, Envy?”
“But Colonel, he–” Fullmetal started.
“Go, Edward. I’ll keep it under control.” Riza answered.
“But…” Fullmetal protested.
Red energy focused around Envy’s head as the chimera dragged Fullmetal deeper into the belly of the beast, past Envy’s recovering form. Roy held his hand steady, watching over the barrel of the gun as the Homunculus healed.
“The Captain will be fine,” one of the chimera said, covered in the darkness beyond the doors, “did you see what the Colonel did to those white things? She’ll keep him safe– and it looks like he has alchemy.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Fullmetal answered, and Roy couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation either by how loud his ears were ringing or they entered too deep for sound to carry back.
“So you’ve been the one searching for the one who killed Hughes,” Envy got up, “and you’ve been using the Colonel as the face of all your schemes!”
Roy put another bullet in Envy’s mouth. They groaned, suddenly lurching forwards with a heavy weight, mutilating into some strange creature, oozing green and people’s souls screaming out. A towering beast– a monster.
“For that, I will fight you all-out.” Envy stated.
Roy reached his hand upwards and snapped his fingers. Oxygen, carbon dioxide, nitrogen in the air around them. He focused them all towards the monster, keeping them away from himself and Riza. The oranges and reds reflected across the white walls, scorching the ground and Envy. Roy stood firm against the Homunculus' screams, stuffing the chemical reaction down its throat and into its lungs. As the huge inferno died out, Roy found himself taking deep breaths in order to take in oxygen. He glanced over and saw that Riza was not.
“You’re lucky I’m not used to Flame Alchemy,” Roy swore, “or else this would be a lot more painful for you. Get up, monster. Hurry up and regenerate yourself. Getting burned alive is one of the most painful feelings out there– I’m going to keep making you relive it, over and over, until you die.”
Riza snapped just as Envy sent a swing of debris towards them– decimating the rocks that could have injured Roy. When the dust cleared, he could just barely spot Envy running deeper into the darkness.
“Coward!” Roy shouted, chasing right after them.
Roy felt the thing under his shoe. That small, insignificant, green little shitstain of a being.
“So that’s your true form, then.” Roy snarled lowly. “You’re ugly. Your name, Envy, means jealous, does it not?” He pressed down harder. “That makes sense. Jealousy… is an ugly thing.”
Envy squealed pleas and cries under his foot, squirming like the vermin it was. “No– don’t! I don’t wanna die! Please!”
“Be gone…” Roy cocked his gun, adding one last bullet into it, “from my sight!”
Just as he was about to lift his foot, a rustle of fabric came from next to him.
“What’s going on, Colonel?” Roy seethed.
“That’s far enough, Captain.” Riza responded. “I will clean the rest up.”
“Just one bullet and it’s dead.” Roy stated. “Let me do this, sir.”
“Request denied, Mustang.” Riza said clearly. “Put your gun down.”
“Stop screwing around!” Roy shouted. “I told you to let me do this!”
His foot got swept up from underneath him, making Roy stumble as Envy went flying through the air. The gun’s aim landed towards the source of the transmutation– Fullmetal.
“Fullmetal.” Roy lowered his aim downwards, towards the Homunculus in the kid’s hand. “Let me have that.” Fullmetal stared at him, unmoving. Envy struggled in his grip. Roy rolled the barrel of his gun. “I’ll say it again. Let me have that.”
“No.” Fullmetal’s golden eyes bored into Roy.
Roy’s finger twitched on the trigger. “I must give that thing the worst of all deaths.”
“No.” Fullmetal repeated, voice firm.
“Give it to me!” Roy demanded, grip tightening. “Or I’ll shoot your hand right along with it!”
“Fine with me!” Fullmetal yelled back. “I’ll fight you like I mean it! But before you do, take a good look at your own face! Is that the face you plan to wear when you stand at the top of this country?!” Roy stared down the hallway at Fullmetal, past the pointed finger and at those blazing gold eyes that made Roy give him a chance. “That’s not what you’re after, Captain!”
Protect those beneath him. They, in turn, would protect those in their circle. It was the very least tiny humans could do for each other.
Somehow, his voice was going to keep them from entering any more wars that nobody benefitted from but the men sitting at the top.
It was going to help people like Fullmetal. Edward.
“Are you going down the path of the beast, given over to his passion?” Scar asked. “You can if you want to. If you're going to live for revenge, I won't stop you.”
“Hey!” Fullmetal spun around.
“I have no right to stop another from taking vengeance.” Scar said. “But I do think it would be a sight to see what sort of world a man who is held captive by his own hatred, at the head of everyone else, would create.”
Roy’s heart dropped. Scar… an Ishvalan? A race of people that Roy had sniped from above? Scar, who had tried to kill him only months earlier? Scar, who wasn’t against someone like Roy becoming the country’s top? Roy… wasn’t helping Scar or his people. Roy was feeding his own wrath. Wrath, who had ordered the destruction of Scar’s country and culture which Roy had helped carry out with just a twitch of his finger. Scar, who used to be on his path of vengeance and had just returned… free, willing to help people like Riza and Roy despite everything because it would save lives. Because it was not Scar trapped by his own wrath– in that moment, it was Roy. Roy, who wanted the position that Wrath was in.
“Captain, I order you to not kill Envy.” Riza said. “That being said, I have no intention of keeping it alive. I will do it myself.”
“I finally did it! I finally ran it down!” Roy snarled.
“I know!” Riza replied. “But still… what you want to do will not help this country, or your friends. It’s to feed your hatred. That is all that consumes you. I order you to not descend to that level! You are not Flame Alchemy, Mustang.”
Roy clenched his fist, feeling the ignition glove squeeze around his hand. He swallowed screams and cries, feeling his throat burning as he did. Slowly, he raised his gun away from Fullmetal and grit his teeth.
“If you’re going to burn me…” Roy said, “will you destroy my back?”
The strangled sound that Riza made was enough of an answer.
“However, once you char me into these very stones, what will you do?” Roy asked.
“I have no intention of remaining alive.” Riza responded tactfully, monotone. “This fight will be my last. Once it is over, I will take one of your guns and shoot my knowledge of Flame Alchemy from this world.”
Roy felt every muscle tightening at her words, including his finger on the trigger. He swung it to his left, down a hallway, and screamed as he let loose a round of bullets. The bangs echoed down the hallway. In front of Roy, Fullmetal flinched.
“I can’t have that.” Roy murmured. “I can’t… I can’t go on without you.”
He slowly looked up from the ground, eyes hazy as he glanced forwards. “What the hell is even going on? Scolded by a child, lectured by a man who was just recently an enemy, putting you in this situation once again…”
Roy dropped the gun, it clattering on the ground. He reached over to rip off the glove on his left hand, tossing to the side. His steps were shaky as he walked over to Riza, eyes brimming with tears and hand poised upwards still, towards where his back once was. Again.
“I’m just a big fool.” He placed his hands on hers, gently pushing her fingers apart. The fabrics were cool under his bare hands. He lowered it. “I’m sorry.”
And his legs gave out from underneath him. Roy collapsed to the ground, Riza following right after.
At that moment, all he could see was her.
Notes:
well. roy IS flame alchemy again. this parrttt. he was supposed to move on from flame alchemy and the knowledge but it all came back this moment. i like the mix between guns (which he did himself) and alchemy (which is on him for the rest of his life). anyways the envy fight in riza pov- ✨
Chapter 9: Fifth Sacrifice
Notes:
ehehehehe remember what i said about chapter titles being titles that roy and riza have... >:)) i struggled for a long time on what riza should lose
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Edward transmuted his automail. “Who are you?”
“Who, me?” The man standing in front of them asked. “The man who created King Bradley… I guess you could say.”
“The Fuhrer?” Mustang mumbled, and Riza recalled the story told to her that day.
“That means that you’re on their side.” Riza adjusted her glove on her hand.
“Oh? I thought you were at the radio station…” the man noted, and Riza studied him to see a lab coat and a golden tooth. “But you’ve come all the way down here for me. Thank you for saving me some trouble, Hawkeye.”
Riza grit her teeth. What did that mean?
From above, people. Their movements were swift as they charged forwards, towards Riza and the others. “You guys, take them on for a bit.”
None of them had to speak to move– Riza, Mustang, and Edward to the left while Scar escaped to the right. Riza dodged out of the way from the swords as she heard metal clashing on metal from nearby– Edward. “Who are these guys?!”
“Mannequin soldiers?” Mustang offered, his back to Riza.
“No, they move differently than those things!” Scar answered, his hand swinging through the air.
“These are the men that might have become Fuhrer.” The scientist person said, kneeling on the ground. Riza glanced over– it was white. Chalk. A transmutation circle of some sorts, which she couldn’t discern from a distance. Wrath had mentioned them briefly, but– Riza hadn’t considered what came of the leftovers. More like, she assumed they were turned into Philosopher’s Stones.
“But then, they have received a great deal of combat training.” The scientist mumbled, and it clicked for her. They were too time-consuming to waste. Riza kept getting her hands knocked away as she attempted to snap, and beside her, Mustang’s gun continued to be shoved around. Other than that, she could hear Scar’s transmutation reactions and Edward’s automail arm skidding against the candidates’ swords. “They’re not as strong as Bradley, but they are strong.”
Riza resorted to punching them– it was no use trying to poise her fingers to snap, and even as her boots made sparks on the ground as she swerved around the room, she didn’t have enough concentration to control the flames. With three people she couldn’t burn and fifteen quick targets, Riza couldn’t do it safely.
“I know they’re supposed to be superhuman, but come on!” Edward protested.
She ran towards the person she entrusted to protect her– Mustang. His rifle was strewn across the ground, knocked from his hands, but he had two pistols in either hand, shooting around at the targets.
Their backs met– protecting each other’s blind spots.
Both of them spun around, raising their hands at each other. Both were holding dangerous weapons.
Riza snapped her fingers, getting at a candidate coming up behind Mustang. He screamed as he burned. “You left your back wide open, Captain.”
“What, shouldn’t a superior officer protect those below them?” Mustang teased.
Riza continued fighting on with her fists, only managing to set a couple of flames thanks to one of her three allies protecting her back as she did so.
“That will do. Now then, shall we get started?” The scientist hummed to himself.
Mustang jerked around, his gun going off in that direction. Riza watched as one of the Bradley candidates jumped in the way, intercepting the bullets and falling to the floor. She felt sick to the stomach as the man began calling out numbers instead of names– and how the remaining men answered to it.
“Here it goes!” The man yelled, pressing down on the transmutation circle he’d been drawing while they were fighting. As his palm connected, the array glowed blue and connected between the candidates. Blue lightning raced around the room, surrounding them.
“What did you do?!” Edward demanded.
“This is only the first stage,” the scientist responded, “do you know how many alchemy laboratories are under direct prefectural control here in Central?”
“Four currently in use,” Edward answered, but he paused, “no. Five.”
“Don’t tell me that curved underground passageway connects the laboratories in a circle!” Riza realised.
Those doors, in the white room..! They were the connection between them all. The vast, sealed doors that had only opened for them on the Promised Day, with the alchemical symbols. They were all connected. The real question, however, was what purpose did they serve?
The crackles of blue light receded, and the reaction from the circle turned a foreboding red as little black hands emerged from the floor, eating away at the Bradley candidates. The worst part was that they stood there and simply took it.
Those hands… they looked like what she imagined Pride’s tendrils to look like.
All throughout it, the scientist continued cackling to himself.
Underneath Edward, a huge eye opened. And then the black hands began to greedily devour the Fullmetal Alchemist, too. His skin began to crumble away with the texture of a transmuted item, stripping away everything as if Edward didn’t exist at all. Riza didn’t even know where the atoms of his body were going– or if they were simply fading from the universe itself.
“F– Fullmetal.” Mustang heaved, and he was the only one of them able to get out a single word.
“Why, you–” Edward began, but the eye closed. And he was gone in a beam of light.
Riza struggled against the grip, feeling her hands get forced apart.
Her glove was already sliced apart– Mustang’s gun jammed, and he was brought to the ground. Two of the candidates kept their swords up to Scar’s neck. Edward had disappeared because of some kind of alchemical array. They were trapped. She was shoved to the ground, the candidates’ hands forcing her fingers to stretch unnaturally to prevent her from snapping. As she looked around, there was no way for her to use the flint without burning Mustang or Scar as well.
The scientist started clapping. “Yes, good, hold them there.”
Riza remained stiff as the scientist turned to her, golden tooth flashing under the dim light. “Now, Hawkeye, we are out of time. I would appreciate it if you cooperate with us, and just perform a little human transmutation for us?”
Riza’s eyes widened.
“Doesn’t matter who,” he shrugged, “parent, friend, lover… whoever you want.”
Riza was a candidate for the sacrifice. Mustang and Edward’s prediction was right– sacrifices were those who opened the Gateway of Truth. It was why the Elric brothers were called sacrifices, why Riza was kept alive as well. “Edward and Alphonse have told me that it does not work. I would never do it, even before knowing that. Only an idiot would.”
“Yes, you’re right. You see, all you have to do is open the Gateway and come back.” He hummed.
“I won’t perform human transmutation, or open this Gateway.” Riza repeated. She breathed in the heavy air, dry from being underground and tinged with the scent of old stone. Around sat the familiar scent of iron from the dead Bradley candidates, and the air almost seemed like it was stirred up since when Edward disappeared.
“I told you, we’re out of time.”
Then, another spurt of blood joined her senses. Riza turned her head at the sound, seeing Mustang sitting there with a spray of blood leaving his neck, dark black with the lighting. His face was almost monotone, as if he hadn’t processed what just happened.
And she watched his body fall to the ground.
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
“Captain!” Riza screamed. His blood continued to seep into the stones, spreading far too quickly for her liking. The candidate that slit his throat began dragging Mustang on the ground, and Mustang looked like he couldn’t fight it at all. He left a trail of blood in his wake, staining his dress shirt. “Captain… Captain!”
“Now, why don't you try opening the gateway, Hawkeye?” He leered.
Mustang was tossed down in the middle of an array. His blood seeped further, his body unmoving. Slow, rasping breaths made their way through the chamber, nothing like what a spark of hope should sound like. He was probably in shock– the only thing keeping him grounded was breathing steady.
“Captain!” Riza ignored him. “Can you hear me? Answer me!”
“Now, perform human transmutation and become the fifth.” The scientist said. “Come on, if you don't hurry, your subordinate will lose his life. Ah, would you like to transmute him after he dies? That would be fine too.”
“I won't- die...” Mustang wheezed. A hand made its way up to his neck, weakly pressing against the wound. His face was rapidly going white, dripping with sweat and droplets of blood from his neck. “I’m under- strict orders... not to die.”
“The spark of hope in the Ishval War, reduced to spouting nonsense.” The scientist sighed. He looked back up at Riza. “Hawkeye, what will it be? He’s going to die soon. If you do nothing, this man will soon bleed to death.”
The scientist pulled something out of his jacket pocket which made Riza’s vision focus right onto it. “However, I am a doctor that can use alchemy and I even have a Philosopher's Stone. Which is to say, I would be able to save this man's life. But if he dies before you make up your mind, there will be nothing I can do.”
Riza stared at the tiny bottle, filled with the red liquid. One she knew from Ishval was warm, which beat like a human heart and was filled with the innocent. Anyone who knew medicinal alchemy would be able to use it on even the worst injuries. It would heal Mustang’s neck. She needed it to heal his neck.
Because no inferno could devour without its kindling.
“He sure has grown quiet. Has he died?” The scientist noted.
“Colonel… there is.. no need– for you to commit.. hu–man tr-ansmuta..tion…” Mustang’s voice was weak. Riza hated hearing his voice weak. His voice wasn’t meant to be weak– it was meant to be empowering. It was meant to lead their country. It was not meant to be pleading for the life of said country while his own hung in balance.
The blood flowed steadily. The liquid enveloped the transmutation circle, Mustang’s body completely limp while laying there. His wheezing breaths overtook her thoughts, weighing heavily in Riza’s body. Tears pricked her eyes, glancing between all the factors. The blood colliding with chalk, Mustang’s neck, the trail of blood from where he was dragged, the Philosopher’s Stone, how his black eyes stared right at her, just as stubborn and naive as they were all those years ago, still scaring her…
“You’ll do it, won’t you, Hawkeye?” The scientist gloated.
“…all right.”
Riza wasn’t used to touching Mustang.
She wasn’t a very touchy person at all. Of course, she would let trusted people touch her, such as Maes or most children, but she didn’t seek it out. Especially with Mustang. Riza kept it away from her, but she knew– if she touched him, all she would be reminded of was his back.
But there she was. A hand on his back, his arm over her shoulder, sweat beading his sheet-white face, head lolling to the side and draping onto hers. She guided him forwards, careful grip because of all the blood that had thankfully stopped flowing out of his body. “Thank you for your help, everyone.”
“No problem,” one of the chimera from the white room earlier, “Ed’s talked a lot about you two.”
“Wait!” The little Xingese girl said. “The Philosopher's Stone!”
Riza spotted it too late as someone walked in, leaning down to take it. Wrath. It was strange– his wounds weren’t healing. He was supposed to be on a wrecked train in the East.
“Long time no see, Mustang, Hawkeye.” Wrath greeted.
“Long time no see, sir.” Riza responded. “It would be difficult for me to tell you that you look well.”
“I believed that you would cave when someone dear to you fell before your eyes, such with Lust.” He hummed.
“I will not commit human transmutation.” Riza declared. “It would be hypocritical of me to go against my own orders.”
Mustang shot her a weak smile at that.
“Here I thought you were pathetic creatures who would always remain emotional, but there are those like you who can hide everything so incredibly well.” Wrath said. “The thing about you humans is that it infuriates me when you don't act the way I think you will.”
The girl gasped. Scar glanced over. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s… right underneath us.” She murmured.
A muffled voice from above– the scientist. Riza tightened her hold on Mustang as it rained blood from the hole which the rest of the group entered from. She felt that bloodlust, again– same as Gluttony and Pride. A chimera and the scientist fell. Riza didn’t know what was happening, but some of them could feel it– the young girl and the chimera. Was it the feeling that Scar and Edward had when entering the room?
“Something’s coming– something terrible,” the girl explained.
And Riza saw Pride emerge.
She handed Mustang off to one of the chimera– Edward trusted them. “Apologies, but please look after my subordinate.”
Riza barely turned as Wrath came charging at her– she snapped her fingers far too late, sending an explosion to where Wrath was mere seconds prior. Her head hit the ground as he kicked her, sending her colliding with the stone floor. His swords impaled themselves into the palms of her hands.
“Colonel!” Mustang gasped, voice high-pitched.
Riza grit her teeth against that– the only times his voice got like that was when he was showing true emotions to the moment. Typically, it would mean playful banter– Riza only ever wished to hear his voice grow boyish when he was joking. Never when he truly felt like a helpless child.
She took deep breaths as Wrath stood above her, swords still in her hands and stabbing the ground. She was caught– like an animal in a trap.
Around her, Pride’s inky hands wrapped around the floor– Riza could just barely see the edge of a curved line– a transmutation circle. Riza, unfortunately, knew exactly what it was for.
“Colonel Hawkeye, you are our fifth.” Pride said.
“The last one.” Wrath added.
Riza’s eyes widened as the area around her turned a horrific mix of bright blue and deep red.
“We didn’t want to resort to this, but there is no choice.” Pride huffed. “We are out of time.”
“You will be forced through the Gateway, Colonel Hawkeye.” Wrath explained.
“I won’t perform human transmutation.” She whispered. It was futile– she didn't know how to do human transmutation. The alchemist had to understand the array to activate it– always, it was Mustang who was researching the Philosopher's Stone for the Elrics, while Riza was the one carrying out the physical investigations. He knew more about it than her.
“It doesn't matter if you don’t want to.” Wrath responded. “There is already an alchemist with knowledge of human transmutation right here. He has the constructional formula.”
Pride’s hands wrapped around her neck again. “She is pinned. Move away, Wrath.”
The swords quickly removed themselves from Riza’s hands as Wrath stepped over her, out of the circle. She could just barely get a glance at Mustang. He was weakly fighting against the chimera’s grip, squirming and shoving.
“I wonder what will be taken from you, Colonel Hawkeye.” Wrath mentioned.
The array activated. Riza couldn’t be sure if she or Mustang were screaming louder.
“Colonel!” The shout was loud, shrill. Worried. It was Mustang.
Riza was led off of the platform by Izumi– more like she was carried off. Riza collapsed into Mustang’s arms, her own legs giving out ages ago.
“Colonel, what happened?” Mustang was on the ground with her– he hadn’t been expecting her entire weight. “What did you lose?”
“We can’t– say for sure,” Riza looked up at him, at the speckles of blood on his cheek and those worried onyx eyes that always scared her, “but we… believe that,” a quick rasp, “I lost blood.”
“Blood?” His hands were on her, gentle. “Where?”
“Just– gone,” she breathed, “maybe thirty to forty percent of it just left my body. I’m in hemorrhagic shock.”
“Shit– how are you?” Mustang’s hands left her– she’d assumed they were slick with blood and sweat.
“Captain, what are your injuries?” Riza asked surely.
“You’re doing it again!” Mustang protested, his voice on the verge of breaking. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the neck injury or because of his emotions. “Worry about yourself!”
“Can you still fight?” Riza asked seriously.
Mustang flinched back, eyes widening. “Yes, sir!”
He struggled to get up, then as he pulled Riza up, she felt his warm skin. Was he warm, or was she just freezing? Mustang managed to swing her tingling arm over his shoulders, pulling her entire weight onto him as her feet barely swept the ground. In the background, Riza could barely process Ling– Greed –talking to them, or how Mustang responded to him before looking back at Riza. “Your pulse is fast,”
“You’re sweating a lot,” she countered, but it was true for both of them.
“You’re sure you don’t have any injuries?” Mustang confirmed. “I don’t want to pull anything, Colonel.”
“Just the hands,” Riza said, “maybe a concussion from falling on my head… twice.”
“Colonel!” Mustang protested, shuffling her body to be more comfortable. Riza’s face tightened. He immediately backtracked– “what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No, I–” Riza took some fast breaths, her voice lowering significantly, “I’m scared.”
Mustang tensed. “Colonel?”
“I– it’s the blood loss,” Riza backtracked, “apologies.”
“Maybe you should become a blood donor, sir.” Mustang joked, and Riza got a good look at his neck, still covered in blood but not flowing. “I get to hear your sincere thoughts more often that way.”
“Maybe you should quit the military and become a comedian, with all the jokes you make.” Riza hummed, feeling her consciousness fade for a second, sweat pouring down her forehead. “Oh wait. You're a politician in the making.”
Mustang let out a laugh, stronger than what she'd expected from someone who was near-death maybe half an hour ago.
And as the platform rose, Riza felt a bit more confidence surge through her.
Riza had always tended to her flames carefully.
She hated not having them under control– it was like when she was levelling cities in Ishval. It was why she’d gone so far to practise her pinpoint aiming, making her flames less damaging to everything nearby. The only times she’d kept from doing that were when she lost control of herself against Lust, and when trying to keep the Bradley candidates and Wrath himself out of her way.
And well, it was time for her to do it again.
With just the first snap, Riza heard the screams of terror from the sides.
They weren’t pained, though. That was what she clung to. Riza quickly snapped again, bringing the same golden destruction upon Central Command at Mustang’s directions. There was nobody in the way; Riza could bring the rain of hell upon that fucker without any constrictions or lack of oxygen. The golds and reds reflected against the sky, turning the pale blue into deep greys and embers.
As the fire smothered, Mustang adjusted his hold on her. Riza jostled around as he pulled her up, making her stand steadier. Riza snapped.
She dashed the flames forwards, pushing the oxygen densely and dragging in all the sparks and chemicals mixing in the air, the debris from the ground and shoving away all the elements that would interrupt his fire. Riza harnessed the fire, tending to the wild roar and shoving it forwards, to the thing that took her blood, her circulation of life.
She focused on each glow of the inferno, how the gold danced on Mustang’s face and his eyes, the reds searing the ground and oranges ripping at the air.
She turned to the very breath inside that thing. An expanse in the cavity of the chest, the carbon dioxide exiting its mouth, all the particles surrounding the body. Riza guided her large, greedy blaze towards all those parts. She shoved it inside the thing’s mouth and down to its lungs, burst it all on those eyes, boiling and melting the crevices. She guided every single airborne element to attack that thing, take its suffering and skin and bones and flesh.
It was the first time she’d hurt someone to such an extent.
With Lust, Riza was setting the Homunculus on fire over and over, watching for attacks and going after her nails to keep her from attacking her or Alphonse. With the Ishvalans, she went after the heart and brain, keeping away from the lungs and eyes to knock them unconscious before feeling the agony of flames ripping at skin.
Going after the lungs was a torturous move.
One Riza was willing to make.
Notes:
ehehe so maybe i made roy a captain just for the poem but it fits!! hes almost at his goal only to.. well get his throat slit. anyways i decided on riza losing 40% of her blood because it represents the circulation of life and the force driving motivation. it flows throughout the body and its the very thing she was trying to escape from her father 🪻
Chapter 10: Roy Mustang
Notes:
50 snippets and finally the end.. :D (i might post something else to do with this au so stay tuned) (looking at you sagal who just posted this!!!)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roy was used to Riza being her own stubborn, steadfast self.
He wasn’t used to her relying on him completely. She was relying on his feet, his hands, his eyes, his concentration. Riza was giving her life to him because the flow of it inside of her was given away. Her skin underneath his grip was cold and clammy– too pale for his liking. Too pale for a girl who spent her days racing through the forests surrounding her shabby house. Riza’s pulse danced under his fingers like a butterfly, weak and rapid and about to die as quickly as one. Her breathing pressed against his side, rapid and uneven, in need of support Roy had to give, not only for the sake of their country, but because he wanted to help her.
Roy wouldn’t let her down.
He pulled them back when soldiers began to fire on the Father guy again, struggling to hold his own head up. His throat was incredibly sore– throbbing with pain, filling his head –but Roy could focus. If only for the adrenaline, he could focus. And that was more than Riza had in her.
He had to make up for what he’d done with Envy.
Roy continued guiding her– holding her arm up, telling her where to aim, keeping her upright, cradling her weight. He grit his teeth and prayed when she would briefly lose consciousness– what he knew was a side effect from losing so much blood in such quick succession. She remained on the ground from when they were blasted away, and in the silence that followed the Father being purged from the world, he pulled her up.
“What happened?” Riza asked quietly.
“Alphonse– he… he’s not back from the other side.” Roy explained.
“Isn’t there anything we can do, Colonel?” Armstrong asked, tears pouring down his face.
“To perform human transmutation and open the portal, a toll is required.” Riza answered grimly. “The last time he tried, Edward sacrificed his right arm and was only able to bring back Alphonse's soul. But bringing back an entire human being is another matter altogether.”
“You don't think Edward is planning to sacrifice himself…” Roy tightened his grasp on her.
Riza shook her head, immediately. “No. He's already experienced the terror and despair of being left behind, alone. He would never subject Alphonse to that.”
Everyone remained quiet. That was, until the Elric's father started offering himself up as a sacrifice. Roy knew what answer would come from Fullmetal– he’d already refused the Philosopher’s Stone, and no matter how much he cursed out his father, Roy knew that Edward wouldn’t use any human life for Alphonse. They would never forgive themselves.
Roy pursed his lips as Fullmetal slowly turned towards them– tears dotting his golden eyes. Riza straightened up under the kid’s gaze. They were all thinking, rapidly– the minds of alchemists.
Even when performing human transmutation to get back a body and soul, it would never work. The thing that would be brought back was incomplete; without a true soul. A rotting, black stain on the basement floor with a couple of ribs and a skull. Nothing that would resemble who it was supposed to. That was even after sacrificing a whole human child’s body, along with a leg to try and create it. It just wasn’t possible. Nothing could compare to the worth of a soul.
“Mei, stand back.” Fullmetal’s voice suddenly became still. Roy furrowed his brow. What was the kid planning to do? He grabbed a stick and began drawing, curved lines and straight intersecting in planned areas. Roy watched as Fullmetal scraped white into the ground, was able to hear it as the kid finally finished it up.
“That’s…” Ling turned to a shout, “a human transmutation circle!”
That idiot! What was he thinking?!
“I’ll be right back.” Fullmetal hummed, and Roy could feel sudden confidence coming from the teenager. What did he have planned? “This is the Fullmetal Alchemist’s final transmutation.”
The clap of hands. The charges from the circle, crackling, electrifying the air with blue and red.
And in one final show of pure genius, Fullmetal brought a complete Alphonse back to life.
Because that was what it was. Edward, the little genius, figured out human transmutation.
Roy was bored out of his mind.
“This is worse than being the Fuhrer’s assistant.” He complained.
Riza looked over, face mildly twisted. “Worse than being held hostage?”
He nodded solemnly. “At least there, I could hold up my own damn head.”
Breda shook his head, snickering. “Only you could say something like that, Mustang.”
“It’s true!” Roy protested. “My voice is all weird, too!”
“They slit your throat, Mustang.” Furey said, voice utterly confused. “Of course it’s weird.”
“It’s been a month!” Roy groaned. “The Brigadier General lost almost half her blood and she’s out!”
The hospital room was lit by the afternoon light shining in through the window. Roy reached up for his neck, feeling at the thin bandages wrapping it. He looked around the room at his coworkers and commanding officer.
“Your throat got slit, Mustang.” Breda repeated, dumbfounded.
“Please continue resting,” Riza sighed, fluffing out her watchcoat, “I have to take leave for the meeting with temporary Fuhrer Grumman.”
“Mention me!” Roy requested. “I’m meeting with him tomorrow!”
“You’re already his favourite, Mustang…” Furey sighed.
“Tell him that I should become Fuhrer next!” Roy added as Riza headed towards the door, shaking her head slowly, a small smile echoing on her face. “Fight General Armstrong in my honour!”
“The only person she hates is you, Lieutenant Colonel.” Riza’s eyebrows raised. “She actually respects me. It comes with being high-ranking women in the military.”
“Have a good meeting, sir!” Furey saluted.
She saluted back, before looking back at Roy. “Make sure you study.”
“I’m thirty, not sixteen.” Roy grumbled, adding a little chuckle to the end.
She shut the door. Breda crossed the room towards the stack of books on the side table, pulling up a chair and collapsing into it. “So, what kinds of items did Ishval manufacture?”
Roy grinned. “Glasswork, pottery, fabrics, and sculptures.”
“You’re pretty damn good at this, Lieutenant Colonel.” Breda smirked right back.
Furey peeked over Breda’s shoulder. “Oh, what is the Ishvalan word for water?”
“Ma.” Roy answered confidently.
Someone knocked on the door, two taps and one knock from the foot. Roy felt a twinge of pain as he turned his head when it opened, revealing Falman. “Studying for Ishval again?”
“You know it,” Roy hummed, “sort of want your memory right now, Falman.”
He walked in, placing flowers on the table. Roy looked at them; white hyacinths. “What’s this? Don’t tell me my charms have worked on you too.”
Breda snorted. Falman quickly shook his head in denial. “No, no! A woman was outside– wanted to give them to you! Said they were from Chris?”
Roy sobered up. White hyacinths were for when someone was thinking about the recipient. “Oh. Thank you for bringing them up, Falman.”
“I told her that you’re to be discharged later today, but she still declined coming.” Falman explained.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll visit them when I’m out.” Roy waved off. “A nice little present for when I finally get to sleep in my own bed.”
“You mentioned that you’re meeting Grumman tomorrow?” Breda asked.
Roy blinked. “Yeah. About the Ishvalan Policy? Also, suggesting myself as Fuhrer.”
It was their turn to be surprised. “You’re pushing forward with the policy?”
“It’s about time,” Roy shrugged, “given what I promised Marcoh.”
Another knock to the door. Three hard taps before it swung open, and in wheeled Havoc, cigarette in his mouth, twisted into a cocky grin. “Oi Breda, why’d you call for me to come to Central? What’s up, you guys?”
Roy smiled right back. “Yourself, soon enough.”
Roy groaned under his breath as he got off the cart.
“Sorry ‘bout the road,” the man apologised.
“Not your fault.” Roy smiled, offering a wave as the man continued down the gravel roads of Resembool. Roy turned on his heel and began walking down the smaller, still gravel pathway towards the Elric house. The bumps just made Roy’s neck a bit sore, harder to hold up properly.
Roy walked up those same wooden steps to the house. He rapped on the door, three knuckles. And waited.
“Winry, thought you said you didn’t have any customers today!” Fullmetal called, voice muffled by the door, which didn’t disguise his odd little thunk-pad walk from the automail and flesh feet against the wooden ground.
Roy let a gentle smile overtake his face.
“I’ll get it, brother! No need to run through half the house!” Alphonse responded, also speeding, and Roy heard both pairs of feet rushing to the door.
It was wrenched open by both, at the same time. “Hello, Fullmetal. Alphonse.”
“Captain?!” Fullmetal jumped away, Alphonse gasping as well. “The hell are you doing here?!”
“Thought I’d stop by,” Roy hummed, “train to Ishval leaves tomorrow morning.”
“You should have called!” Alphonse shepherded Roy inside, shutting the door behind him. “We could have prepared a room!”
“He did,” Winry Rockbell appeared in the hallway, “and I prepared a room.”
“Winry–” Fullmetal protested.
“Just one night, Fullmetal.” Roy assured. “And stop calling me Captain– I got a promotion!”
“What’s after Captain again?” Alphonse whispered to his brother.
“Two ranks,” Roy boasted, “Lieutenant Colonel.”
They continued the banter throughout the afternoon, through supper and until the stars were out. Roy sat outside, marvelling at the night sky. All the light pollution from the city, and Roy almost forgot how pretty the stars could be when he could see them so clearly. It reminded him of while learning from Master Hawkeye, out in such a similar town. He wondered how Riza was doing, but Roy already knew that she was completely packed and sleeping after preparing the office while the two of them would be in Ishval. The door opened beside him. “You’re gonna get eaten alive by bugs, Mustang.”
“Glad to know you care for my well being, Fullmetal.” Roy hummed dryly.
“Not Fullmetal,” Edward pointed out as he plopped down next to Roy on the steps.
They sat in silence for a couple of seconds. Roy breathed in the fresh countryside air.
“So… how’re you doing?” Edward asked. “With the… neck getting ripped open.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Roy grumbled, “it’s been two months. Considering that, not too shabby.”
“And everything else?” Edward was looking up, at the moment.
Roy thought about it for a second. “Pretty good. The Ishvalan policy looks like a long road, though. Most of it is under wraps for now, but maybe in a couple of months, I can make it more public.”
“I’ll say,” Edward chuckled quietly, “and the Col– Brigadier General?”
“What, she gets her proper rank?” Roy complained, before recovering. “She’s doing well.”
He wouldn’t tell Edward about how Riza smiled a little wider seeing Roy accomplish everything with his own name, or how she would look on happily as Roy managed to take all the media coverage from her. He wouldn’t tell Edward about how Riza looked just a little bit lighter, was a little bit closer to Roy than before. He wouldn’t tell Edward how Riza seemed to be doing more things for herself instead of him.
“With the… whole Envy thing.” Edward muttered.
Roy’s face fell. “I… never got the chance to talk to you about all of that. Sorry that you had to see me like that– as an adult and coworker, I apologise.”
Roy had been unconscious for around three days after the Promised Day– and then, he was almost unable to talk with the combination of the bandages and how drugged up the hospital made him. By the time they waned Roy off and lessened the bandages, the Elric brothers were long gone.
“It’s not just about that– it’s about how you talked.” Edward fiddled with his human fingers. “What was that about your back?” Roy inhaled swiftly. Edward continued. “And the Brigadier General told me that you have the research for Flame Alchemy– you used it on Envy. You used it on Lust.”
Roy knew what it looked like. He couldn’t stand it at first, looking at himself in the mirror, but after some years, he could finally bring himself to it. The top half was mostly gone, with some minor parts to his back a mixture of pulling dark and light tones. They tugged when he adjusted his arms, loosened and draped when he leaned backwards, shone under the lamp at night. There were still parts of the original deep-red tattoo, but as Roy finally drew himself to studying his back in the mirror again, he could see that they were notes that required burned off parts.
“I know.” Roy whispered. Well, he hadn’t known that Riza told Edward. “You’re always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Fullmetal. No wonder you ended up in so much shit.”
Edward didn’t protest Roy’s words, for once. Roy sighed. The banter wasn’t going to work. “I do have the research for Flame Alchemy– the remnants, anyways. You can still read parts of it; none of the necessary components.”
Edward’s face changed. “Why would you still have that? That’s dangerous.”
“Can’t get rid of it,” Roy took a shallow breath, “would you like to see it?”
Edward looked horrified at that. “You bring it around with you?!”
Roy snorted. “Of course I do. You know only two people have ever seen this, ever? And, they're from the same bloodline– this is big stuff I’m offering, Edward.”
“I can’t even tell if you’re offering me this because you think you can trust me, or it’s that I can’t use alchemy anymore.” Edward stated dryly, but stood.
Roy stood. “We should head upstairs– don’t want the others getting the wrong idea.”
Roy chuckled to himself about the nostalgia, but Edward confusedly followed.
“Looking… spiffy, Mustang.” Riza said.
Roy flashed a grin as he adjusted his suit. “Why thank you, Brigadier General. I say that you look much more elegant and dazzling than I do.”
“But we both know who will get more dates by the end of the night,” Riza responded.
“At a military function, the only people that will be there are old men!” Roy whined.
“You never know what young women they paid to bring along,” Riza shrugged, making Roy muffle a snort.
“Brigadier General, the brass wouldn’t have been able to handle you if you didn’t hold back.” Roy decided.
“They didn’t handle it well when I overthrew their government, either.” Riza huffed. Roy had to grab at his neck when it started hurting. Riza’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he kept giggling. “Colonel?”
“No– the muscles are cramping,” Roy explained between breaths as he calmed himself down, “it’s fine, it’s fine.”
The doctors told him that his neck on the left side would probably cramp like that for the rest of his life– get better over the years, but when he strained his neck too much, it would act up. They said to keep from stressful situations, but he laughed and responded that he was a soldier. They quickly shut up about that and just gave him medication.
“Who’s your date tonight?” Riza asked, glancing around. They were nearing the military function– dress code: formal, non-military.
Men were so boring, for just having one look and changing what shade of grey it was. He had his usual dress shirt but with a nice tie his Aunt Chris got, two layers over that of a grey vest and his watchcoat, and then his hair slicked back. He also held back on makeup– mascara, along with a bit of blush, then lip gloss instead of lipstick in case he had to eat or drink.
“No one,” Roy said easily, “thought I’d find one in there.”
Riza shot him a suspicious gaze but said nothing as they went up to the security guard, who didn’t bother to check his list before letting in the saviours of the Promised Day, the Spark of Hope and the Flame Alchemist. Roy adjusted his tie as he glanced towards Riza, her eyes already racing around the room.
He felt the back of his neck growing hot, looking at her in such a dress. Black, ankle-length and flowing so that she could conceal weapons– it glittered when she walked under the streetlights and chandelier, too. Shit. She put on makeup– Roy could spot heavier mascara and some blush, light eyeshadow and a shade of lipstick that only accentuated her natural colour.
She was stunning.
Roy was definitely underdressed compared to her. His stomach tightened as he followed her around, taking over conversations where she shifted her foot towards him and then being polite and waving when it was a conversation she wanted to have. Roy and Riza took turns with who would speak when they were approached, Roy for the politics and charm while Riza for the alchemy and publicity.
Then, when it was just a misogynistic asshole, Roy would spot a friend on the other side of the room and they would ditch the fucker.
“Colonel,” Riza hissed further into the evening, “drinking on the job?”
Roy pulled the flute of champagne closer to himself. He whispered back, “my throat hurts! Look– there’s nothing else to drink! If Fullmetal was here, then he would’ve gotten his special little orange juice, you know!”
She already knew, of course. He knew Riza would always study what was and was not in a room before spending so much time in it. But it seemed like it was just then when she realised his throat could hurt.
“Just one.” She grumbled.
Roy took his silent celebration in a single sip. “Would you like a taste, to cheer yourself up?” She shot him a deadpan look. Roy finally let the grimace through. “Tastes cheap.”
“Says the man with designer suits.” She shot back. He chuckled.
And Roy knew there would be many more events like this.
“For you, my lady.” Roy twirled around the umbrella in his grip.
“Colonel?” Riza huffed a laugh, lowering her hand from her eyes.
Roy held the umbrella up. “Thought I’d walk to Command with you today.”
Riza shot a deadpan look, but he saw the flash of playfulness in her eyes.
He held the umbrella out so that she could enter, the droplets of rain bouncing off the top. She looked up and out at the cloudy skies, the grey reflecting on her warm brown. Roy glanced over with a soft smile.
She turned to him. “What brought this on?”
“Why Brigadier General, can’t I do something courteous for my superior officer who is very useless in the rain?” Roy hummed.
Riza’s eyebrows raised minisculely as she bantered back. “As I recall, it was you who would always be useless in the rain.”
Roy laughed– high-pitched, rich. Not fake like he would to most people or deep like a man should be or polite like what he would do to the brass or for people he wanted to impress. No, he hadn’t quite laughed like that in a long time.
And he looked over to see Riza snickering as well. They kept giggling like school-children all the way to Central Command– that dreary, damp day already turned to a magnificent start. Roy had to rub his face to get rid of the aching from how much he’d been smiling when they shared jokes under his umbrella.
“Time to get serious.” Riza huffed, face completely stoic.
Roy felt his stomach aching again as he hid the laugh. “You’re going to make me lose it at the meeting today.”
Riza hummed. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
Yes, their meeting with General Ikarus in just a couple of minutes. Roy cleared his throat as they entered her office– the rest of the men greeted them joyously. Riza went to sit down at her desk, at the head of the room, while Roy went to stand next to her. His neck hurt dully, as did his left side. Damn, all of their enemies were really going to injure his left side!
Roy straightened his back as Riza looked over, but faltered at the… gentleness over her face. What emotion was that?
Roy smiled right back, softly. His body felt warm as they looked over towards the door, awaiting the man who would be able to push forwards with the Ishvalan policies Roy had created. Convince that one General, and they could allow Ishvalans back into their holy land.
At peace– that was the emotion on Riza’s face. She looked forward again.
Roy looked on determinedly. They could do it– they had each other’s backs.
Notes:
hnfggg sorry if its anticlimatic!! this chapter was more of.. cleaning everything up and sort of showing that life didnt really end once they finished up with the homunculi and how some things may have changed (ed leaving the military, roy with his neck) but some will stay the same (flirting in the office) 🌺
Chapter 11: Bullet Firestorm
Notes:
or, i decide to post the entire envy fight. both their pov. set directly from when i ended things back in chapter 8 and ends right when i pick it back up in the same chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Roy’s feet slammed against the concrete as he chased after Envy, hands trembling against their separate weapons.
“Where are you, Envy?” Roy barked. “No need to run. It will only elongate your suffering.”
He waved the smoke away, feeling a couple of coughs stutter out. Roy’s jaw tightened as he looked around, through the thick smoke and towards any movement.
“If you don’t come out, I’m going to start experimenting with Flame Alchemy a little more.” Roy walked through the hallways, heart beating through his ears like a war drum and face pulsing dully. Heat felt like it was steaming off his skin, making his suit tight. All he could smell was smoke and burnt flesh–
Footsteps behind him.
Roy spun around, gun raised on instinct.
“Yo, Roy.”
Maes.
Roy drew his left hand underneath his gun, pressing his fingers together.
The resounding sound burst through the air, fizzling past oxygen molecules and finding its target instantly. A sound he’d familiarised himself with in the past decade, but was never his own. Destruction that was so beautiful at one point, in his mind. Something he’d dreamed of for years, at one point was hopeful and quickly soured to nightmares in the pits of hell. A thing that he had originally met Riza for, what he had sacrificed for, what he had feared yet loved.
And finally, Roy made it his.
The screams that exited Envy barely satisfied him. “Your best friend! You’d burn up your best fr–” it was cut off by another scream. The scent of nauseating flesh tainted the halls.
“Hughes is dead. He’s gone.” Roy growled. "Your actions only pour more fuel on your funeral pyre!”
Another snap. Roy felt his jaw tightening, only making his face hurt more from scowling so deeply but he could barely control himself– he couldn’t keep his breathing or his muscles or his face under control and the thing causing it was right in front of him.
“Damn it!” Envy screeched, racing towards Roy.
Was that thing stupid?
Roy raised his right hand, shooting a round through the Homunculus' skull, their eyes and mouth. Envy fell to the ground, gripping at their head. “Not again! My eyes! My eyes!”
“You fool. You think that because I’m using Flame Alchemy, that I wouldn't still have my gun? First and foremost, I’m a sniper. There’s a reason for that!” Roy shouted, raising his gun again for spite. He got to the thing’s vitals, then went for the cruelty of the kneecaps and shoulder blades. At the end, he snapped his fingers and set the hallway in front of him into a blaze.
As the inferno ran out of oxygen to devour, Roy watched the sizzling form of Envy jumping down a chute.
Roy stepped forwards, through the remnants of fires on the wires coiling down the tunnels. “Tch. Escaping again.”
Riza heard another loud explosion and knew it was time.
The threads of the array dug into the back of her hand.
“Sorry, Captain.” Riza muttered. “Request denied.”
She entered the lion’s cage.
Her footsteps were loud against the concrete floors. The military uniform was rather useless like that– she went down the halls, following the smoke gathered at the ceiling or the black stains on the ground, the scent of human flesh bubbling up and charring. Like Ishval.
She could feel her muscles tensing and mind straying, but she couldn’t get off-track. Mustang was in grave danger. There was a very clear reason her father never allowed Flame Alchemy to fall into his hands, even if he trusted it on Mustang’s back. Riza paused as she heard stomping down a hallway to her left.
She stopped, raising her hand ready to snap.
She ended up staring down the barrel of a gun.
He put his weapon down. She did, too.
“Colonel. I believe I requested that you let me take care of this?” Mustang said, voice thinly hiding all the rage in him.
“Request denied, Captain.” Riza responded, eyes narrowing a fraction as she watched him loosen his grip on his gun. “Where did Envy go?”
“I lost sight of him.” It growled. “It’s practically a maze down here. Follow me please, Colonel.”
He started stalking down the hallway again.
No… it was wrong. He wasn’t one to plead so seriously. Mustang was the man to use any words other than ‘please’, make it sound anything but a plea. He was never one to use such typical words like ‘maze’– it had to be fancy, or nothing at all. Labyrinth, perhaps, or maybe even ‘hallway’ he would have used to tell her– maze just seemed off.
That wasn’t even starting with ‘practically’– Mustang grew up in the slums of Central, with the dialect in such an area, which would pronounce the word with four syllables instead of three. He’d adopted an upper-middle class accent from spending time with Maes in the military academy, but that specific word was one thing he couldn’t shake.
Mustang never allowed himself to lead her. Riza was the one to stand at the front, as the face. He was the shadow, the insignificant one, the planner. She wasn’t sure if he refused to put his back to her because of the last time it had happened, either. He didn’t put his back to her. Mustang wouldn’t put her in a place where he couldn’t protect her.
Riza followed Envy down the hallway, adjusting her gloves.
She had to admit, the disguise was good– Envy captured Mustang’s almost child-like look, with the soft cheeks and the deep black eyes, along with his longish yet shiny hair. The suit, as well, was faked with great detail– all the way down to the vest with the v-shape pattern sewn into it. Not only that, it captured his voice, with the deep and growly baritone he adopted when confronting his best friend’s killer. The lines on his face from scowling, how his eyes bulged with anger. The only problem was that Envy’s disguise of Mustang had a glove that fit. Of course, as different heights and genders, Riza’s hand would be a different size and therefore have a different shape of glove– one that Mustang could wear, but it would be tight. It was tight.
She raised her hand at Envy, rustling the fabrics. A spark danced off.
“What’s going on, Colonel?” Envy raised his hands, finger off the trigger. “You aren’t going to burn me, are you?”
And that was all the more confirmation Riza got. “Who? Don’t make me laugh. When the two of us are alone, the Captain has always called me by my first name; Riza.”
“Damn it! You two are really that close, huh?!” Envy spun around, shifting from Mustang’s appearance towards its usual form. Riza’s smug feeling only roared louder.
“I lied.” Riza snapped, and a column of fire burst out in front of her.
It died down. Riza poised her fingers again. “Thank you for falling for it, Envy.”
“No… it was perfect!” Envy protested.
Riza looked down upon them. “I’ve already burned my Captain. And I’ll do it again if necessary. Now, go ahead and die for me.”
More flames.
Riza kept snapping as soon as the inferno sizzled out into some sparks, continuing on and on. Against the smoke and smell, Riza didn’t flinch as she continued pressing her fingers together, feeling the fabric combust the elements, and gripping onto that. The calculations burned clear in her mind as she enveloped Envy in fire, doing the most damage possible and killing the thing before Mustang was able to. That was the least she could do for him.
It would be different from the Lust fight. Riza wouldn’t lose control.
She couldn’t lose control this time, because Mustang didn’t last time.
“Colonel, sir.” Mustang’s voice boomed down the hallway, through the firestorm as he shot some bullets directly into the back of Envy’s head, making the Homunculus fall forwards. “I requested that you stay back.”
“Request denied, Mustang.” Riza responded curtly.
Mustang snapped, cutting off the flames just in front of Riza’s face. Red crackles glowed faintly through the inferno, Envy’s screams mixing with the roar of flames.
She watched as he alternated between the two weapons. Flame Alchemy for suffering, bullets for his own accomplishments. As Mustang finally walked down the hallway, his face was twisted and creased, his typically unassuming demeanour completely stripped. What the brass and Homunculi had previously seen as her unruly subordinate finally showed who he was; a traumatised man with an alchemist’s mind and acting skills.
But that wasn’t all he was.
He looked wrong.
Riza watched as Mustang made his way over to Envy, who was on the ground, sitting on its knees. He glared down at the Homunculus. She could see that Mustang was onto his third gun; the other two were out of bullets, most likely. The glove pressed itself into his hand, the array glowing a faint blue. The shadows on his face only made him seem more inhuman, with the candlelight across the hallways and the sparks smothered on Envy’s own body.
“Damn human– don’t you dare look down on m–” Envy started, only having a second to speak before Mustang snapped his fingers, the crack bursting through the hallway, followed by an immediate explosion of toxic oranges and reds, reflecting against Mustang’s face and furrowed brow, the deep snarl as he continued snapping and shooting at Envy’s figure.
She may have killed hundreds of thousands, but he was killing just one and it was the sickest thing she’d ever seen. It would closely follow her first time seeing the tattoo on his back. Each flame and bullet pierced its way through Riza’s soul as she kept watching– Flame Alchemy –his own Flame Alchemy, not hers– it was –it was more destructive than hers. It was more tortuous than hers.
Mustang was torturing Envy.
And deep down, she knew he was getting pleasure from those inhumane screeches.
The smell was getting to her– Riza couldn’t tear her eyes away, but she pressed a gloved hand up to her face. It didn’t help.
In the end, just one explosion was what finished it.
One scream, one glare, one bullet– and it was over.
She failed. She let him stray from his path.
And now, she was going to turn the fire he was so enamoured with on him.
At the very least, she could keep her promise.
But wait. A sound from Envy’s blackened body, the crisp thing with black blood already solidified on the ground, hair just a faint memory against the stone floors. No, Envy was still alive. It came out of the Homunculus' skull– a green creature, with a pathetic voice and little arms squirming as it splatted on the ground. It was ugly, but it meant one thing to Riza.
Mustang still had hope.
Notes:
hello!! sagal i am BACK with this au with more material.. I think ive spoken about how i was a lil disappointed that i couldnt write the two iconic homunculi royai fights from both pov but now not even truth can stop me now
Chapter 12: Desperate Embers
Notes:
or, its time for the lust fight yall. riza pov. in the fic ive talked about what she was thinking but never actually showed you guys what happened before roy showed up
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Captain…” Riza murmured, before her face soured. “Why did you come out here?!”
“Huh?” Mustang blinked like a lost puppy.
“You could have kept your involvement a secret even if something happened to us!” Riza exclaimed. “And yet, you come waltzing on in here! I had it handled– are you, in fact, an idiot?!”
Mustang’s mouth curved as he got scolded. “Yeah, okay, okay, I’m an idiot.”
“Colonel, the target has started to move!” Furey called out. Riza turned as he shouted.
“Sergeant, break camp!” Riza ordered. “Leave no traces that we were ever here!”
“Black Hayate, stay close!” Mustang added.
The replies they got were a “yes, sir!” and a bark.
As Riza went down the stairs, she tightened her gloves on her hands as Mustang checked his gun. She focused on the stairs in front. “Apologies for worrying you, Captain.”
“I’m glad you’re alive, sir.” Mustang responded quietly.
Maes’ grave was still fresh. The flowers from the funeral were still alive.
They exited the tower and headed to the streets, where sure enough, Riza’s car was parked. She entered the passenger’s seat and Mustang took the wheel, screeching off down the road towards where Furey had pointed out.
“Get in!” Mustang pushed an elbow out his window, glancing back at Havoc running down the street. He let out a noise of confusion as someone else’s footsteps followed– one not of Barry’s. Riza craned her neck to see, as Mustang would have had a different reaction if it was someone hostile.
“This has something to do with Mr Hughes’ case, doesn’t it?” Alphonse? Riza met Mustang’s eyes as he peeked back into the car, looking for her orders.
“Are you coming?” Riza called out of the window. The door opening was her answer.
As they drove further, next to Barry and following his body, Riza grit her teeth as she tried processing the thought of a Homunculus– a real, intellectual homunculus. Not something like a clump of stem cells or hair follicles, but actual human beings created by alchemy. Who could recover from such wounds, such burns she’d just caused. Not only that, but Alphonse shared a fatal flaw– they all had Ouroboros tattoos, making them easily identifiable.
And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact Alphonse shared that he got kidnapped.
They stopped outside of a building, peeking around the corner of it. The streetlights were lit and crickets chirped as they studied the place– a place Riza recognised as the Third Laboratory, operated by the Amestrian military to conduct alchemical experiments. Just what was going on with their country?
The group backed away from the gates. Riza frowned deeper. “Enough information, Captain?”
“Plenty.” He smirked. “Something to hold over the brass.”
“This is enough of a catch for today,” Riza stated, “we have to head back.”
“It’s not enough!” Barry protested, and the rest of them could only watch in shock as the suit of armour sped into the laboratory. Havoc cursed as around the wall, they could hear terrified screams from some of the scientists milling outside.
“This isn’t good, Colonel.” Havoc muttered.
“No, we can use this to our advantage.” Mustang hummed. “Colonel?”
And so, Riza found herself borrowing his military jacket, storming the base. Behind followed Mustang wearing his watchcoat, Alphonse trailing behind, and Havoc flashing his weapons around. “All remaining personnel, evacuate immediately!”
“C– Colonel?” A man whispered, watching them with muted shock.
Riza glanced over. “The intruder is a violent serial killer. My men and I will take care of this; evacuate everyone and seal the exits.”
“Yes, sir!” Some of the soldiers shouted.
“He went down here, sir!” Havoc called out. They quickly descended down the staircase, looking around the dark hallways. Riza tugged at the sleeves of Mustang’s coat as Havoc started swearing under his breath again. “Now which way did he go?”
“We’re splitting into two groups.” Riza decided. She nodded at Mustang. “Alphonse and I. Mustang and Havoc. In an hour, head back here no matter what.”
“Yes, sir!” The two men shouted. “We’ll head to the right.”
“Make sure not to go down any hallways.” Riza confirmed. “Come along, Alphonse. We have to find Barry quickly.”
Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…
Riza continued counting her footsteps as they went down the hallway, noting the curve as they walked.
“Colonel?” Alphonse asked. “Why did you send the Captain and the Lieutenant together? They don’t have alchemy in case they get in trouble…”
“They’ll be fine, Alphonse,” Riza assured, “Mustang learnt alchemy when he was eight; he can manage. They’re also heading in the opposite direction from where Barry went.”
“Really?” Alphonse asked.
Riza wasn’t sure which one he was confirming, but she nodded anyway. “The dust is more unsettled this way. It means that both the armour and the body went this way. The two of them should be looking at whatever this basement is for.”
A dull boom echoed down the hallways, shaking the walls. The two of them stopped, jerking around. After a second, Riza continued running forwards. Alphonse joined her– they ran for only another minute or so before coming across a huge doorway. What greeted them was a white room, with some kind of array on a huge doorway across from them. Underneath it sat Barry and his body.
As they entered, Riza tightened her jaw. It was rare she would be envious of Alphonse’s situation.
She turned her attention away from the decaying body on the ground towards the array on the door. The sun and the moon, six layers ranging from yellow to red possibly meaning the layers of the earth, three green circles with latin, a star with three astrological symbols for Mercury, other symbols Riza couldn’t identify at the moment. The only thing she wouldn’t doubt was that it was alchemy.
“You’re late, boss lady.” Barry stated. “Lookit how decayed my body is. It’s just impossible to stick someone’s body with a different soul.”
And oh, Riza knew how much that crushed Alphonse.
Even with the suit of armour, it wouldn’t protect him from emotional jabs like that. After three years stuck like that, she knew that a part of them was growing desperate; what Barry was saying only made it worse.
“Alphonse, you two will get your bodies back.” Riza assured, a hand up to her nose anyways.
The sound of high-heels against the ground made Riza turn, hand poised instead of pinching her nose. A woman stood there, an Oroborus tattoo right on her sternum, blood red lips pouting outwards. Her meat-pink eyes studied them, silky hair shimmering under the lights glaring from above.
“There you are, Miss Lust.” Barry chortled as he turned.
“Number 66, why are you working with the Colonel?” Her voice came out cold. For someone Riza was aware was called Lust, she had no desirable qualities to her speech.
“Because it seemed fun!” Barry answered, slinging back his knife towards the Homunculus. “Besides… I want to chop you more than anything!”
“Such a troublesome man.” Lust sighed, her sights set on Alphonse. “And what about you, armour boy? What brings you to someplace like this?”
Without an answer, Lust continued talking. “Oh, well, this is taking a heavy toll. To think, two sacrifice candidates and two soldiers in one night?”
“Sacrifices? Together?” Alphonse clarified.
“Yes, you two.” She sneered.
“Enough with all the mumbo-jumbo, Miss Lust!” Barry shouted, racing forwards. Riza watched on as he gained on the Homunculus, who merely sighed as her fingers extended into claws. Riza didn’t get the chance to blink as they sliced through the armour like butter. Barry’s metal body crumbled onto the ground in thin, ribbon-like strips. He didn’t make another sound.
Lust’s fingers shrunk back to what they were before. “I hate annoying men. Now then, Miss Colonel, I'll be sending you to where I sent your subordinate.”
Riza felt her heart’s pounding only grow stronger. Her fingers trembled under the strength she put them under. “Wait… you said two soldiers?” Lust continued walking towards them, face twisted into a smirk. Riza’s jaw began to tremble as her face slowly morphed into pure horror. “You don’t mean… you don’t mean..!”
And as Lust smiled with her teeth, something inside Riza broke.
“You… you bitch!” The scream she let out was animalistic as she snapped her fingers, sending the inferno down upon the Homunculus. Each particle was sent to collide faster and faster, setting off the chain reaction everywhere around the Homunculus. Lust also began to scream through the flames, trying to regenerate from where she was charred into the white ground. Riza continued screeching as she snapped her fingers, over and over again, sweat beading up against her as tears began to blur her vision.
Mustang was dead. Mustang was dead.
That bitch killed him. She killed his dream.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Everything Riza had worked for. All she’d sacrificed, all she’d gone through and hoped for and waited for was gone.
Her Captain was dead.
Riza snapped in quick succession. Snap. Snap. Snap. She sent the flames everywhere, enveloping Lust’s body like the carnality she represented. Each blast of orange and red, reverberating off the walls and ceiling, booming throughout the vast room, searing through skin and bone only to be regenerated in crackles of red. Riza snapped under her fingers refused to gain strength, until her legs gave out and her face finally smoothed, letting the tears finally fall.
“How pathetic to see a human so frail,” Lust sneered.
“Colonel, get up and run away.” Alphonse requested.
“Do you want to die first?” Lust scorned.
Riza felt her breaths coming unevenly as she heard a loud clap, then a flash of blue. Lust hummed. “I see. You’ve opened the doorway.” A clatter, probably from whatever Alphonse transmuted. She heard another slice from Lust’s fingers. “It’s too bad. You’re definitely a sacrifice.”
Riza swallowed to try and get rid of the lump at the back of her throat. “Alphonse, leave me here and run away.”
“I don’t want to.” Alphonse responded firmly.
“Run away!” Riza’s voice broke as she screamed, raw and desperate and wet.
“I don’t want to!” Alphonse repeated.
“You at least, have to–” Riza started, voice hoarse.
“I said I don’t want to!” Alphonse protested. “I'm sick of people dying before my eyes! I've had enough!”
His mother. Hughes. Nina Tucker and her dog. Even Barry. Riza could barely see through the tears that dripped onto her gloves, how her chest rose and fell erratically, the pain that came from breathing in, how each lungful of air was more than Mustang would ever get again, but she knew. She knew that Alphonse was leagues stronger than she ever would be. That child, who had lost his own body, was still fighting. Mustang, who lost anatomy over himself, continued fighting until the end.
And Riza wasn’t.
“I won't let anyone get killed anymore! I'll protect them!” Alphonse shouted.
And when Riza looked back up, her relief was violent like a rainstorm.
Notes:
so the lust fight huh.. its lustriza time baybee
Lynyangell on Chapter 1 Tue 29 Oct 2024 06:05PM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 1 Tue 29 Oct 2024 06:33PM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Oct 2024 02:58AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 2 Thu 10 Oct 2024 03:08AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 10 Oct 2024 03:08AM UTC
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Lynyangell on Chapter 2 Tue 29 Oct 2024 06:34PM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 2 Tue 29 Oct 2024 06:36PM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Oct 2024 02:24AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Oct 2024 02:36AM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 3 Fri 11 Oct 2024 03:02AM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 4 Fri 11 Oct 2024 10:22PM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 4 Sat 12 Oct 2024 12:11AM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 4 Sun 13 Oct 2024 03:57AM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 5 Wed 30 Oct 2024 03:04AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 5 Wed 30 Oct 2024 05:50PM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 8 Wed 30 Oct 2024 03:31AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 8 Wed 30 Oct 2024 05:51PM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 9 Thu 31 Oct 2024 04:19AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 9 Thu 31 Oct 2024 07:51PM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 10 Thu 31 Oct 2024 04:28AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 10 Thu 31 Oct 2024 07:51PM UTC
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Emmmmy on Chapter 11 Thu 31 Oct 2024 04:33AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 11 Thu 31 Oct 2024 07:52PM UTC
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yoha_ku on Chapter 12 Tue 17 Jun 2025 06:58AM UTC
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imkazzzz on Chapter 12 Tue 17 Jun 2025 07:16PM UTC
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