Two Months Later
April 8th, 1909, Fürer’s Office, Central Headquarters, Central, Amestris – Storch POV
Lieutenant Colonel Storch knew his place.
Storch was not like the “comrades” and “friends” he left behind in Ishval. None of them would amount to anything. Never mind the dead, the living were worse. They all squandered their luck in surviving that hellhole by joining any number of radical groups and whining about all manner of hopeless causes. Some wanted justice for the supposed “Genocide” of Amestrian traitors. Some wanted to split off from Amestris and make their own nations. Others to “fix” the system by giving more power to the military, or to the people, or the workers, or, or, or…
‘What the hell are they hoping to achieve? Sure, I didn’t like everything I saw in Ishval either. Some of that… it keeps me up at night, but I’m not an idiot. The State just proved it was more than willing to kill hundreds of thousands of traitors and I don’t like the odds of facing off against the best military in the world. I’m not going to run my mouth off to everyone I hearing distance and ruin my career just because I might partially agree with something a bunch of crazed radicals said. I’m not going to risk my life for something so petty, not after I survived that war for over 2 years. I’ve had enough death for a lifetime.’
So he sat silently at his desk in the office of the leader of the nation, going through Fürer President King Bradley’s mail with a serious look on his face and due diligence in his heart. He would not let a single word, intention, or hidden meaning slip his focused gaze. He was no bootlicker – he didn’t get his position by flattering his superiors – and the Fürer made it clear that he wanted a secretary that could say no. This was a job he could take pride in.
The leader of Amestris walked in and began to hand his hat and coat on a nearby coat rack. Storch stood up and gave him a crisp salute before grabbing a number of papers from his desk. He followed his leader to his desk and handed a paper to the Fürer as the man sat down.
“Sir, this document pertains to the Veteran's Relief Act tabled by Lieutenant General Gardner. He mentions that he finished work with the Upper House in negotiating down the initial proposal from the Lower House down to ‘something reasonable’ in his words.”
The Fürer nodded absentmindedly as he skimmed the pages. He rubbed his chin in thought.
“So they finally finished with that… two months too late to do any real good. What was the percentage of Veterans that was said to be in those radical terrorist groups now?”
It sounded like a rhetorical question, but the look being given to Storch urged him to respond. With most of his former friends involved in those groups, he put an effort into keeping up with the latest reports about them coming in from intelligence, if only to reinforce his decision never to get involved with them. As such, he knew the answer by heart.
However, he could not risk Fürer Bradley knowing why he knew or his leader might mistake his interest for sympathy. As such, the secretary paused in an effort to pretend he had to think hard about it.
“I think… it was around 2% sir.”
The Fürer frowned.
“So about three- to five-thousand people. Is that right?”
That was a rhetorical question this time, so Storch waited until President Bradley shook his head and slapped the document with the back of his hand.
“What a mess. Accepting the Lower House’s recommendation upfront would have destroyed these ‘movements’ in the womb. A few thousand Cens for every unemployed veteran is a drop in the bucket compared to what’s going to hit this nation once those terrorists start mobilizing. Could have saved money and work in the long-run and given the military a needed popularity coup after the War’s mismanagement. Idiots.”
‘I should be playing devil’s advocate for this, shouldn’t I? I can’t be seen as a yes-man like former secretary Klemin, or I’ll be fired.’
It was something he was struggling to get the hang of for the past month of his employment. To speak up and against his leader in a way that drove discussion, but did not appear politically or personally motivated.
“The increased taxes would have lead to problems with the aristocrats and industrialists. We needed to involve the Upper House or there would have been political gridlock.”
The Fürer is silent for a moment before he clenches a fist. Signing the document, he threw it into the “outgoing” box on his desk.
“I’ll let them have their ‘win’. But if they think this is over…”
He gave Storch an insincere-looking grin.
“Once the terrorism starts, they’ll find no mercy from me. Maybe a few ‘top-placed’ military sources will leak something to the press reminding the public that they held the government hostage over this. They’ll get a harsh reminder about which side of my State has the popular support. I’ll rake them over the coals for thinking they can get away with making my job harder.”
It was true: his leadership was considered borderline infallible by the common person. Even the terrorists were careful not to mention the Fürer by name and for good reason. Everything he did only seemed to reinforce that he was a powerful man who only wanted the best for the nation. He regularly heard the sentiment among his comrades in Ishval: “If only the Fürer wasn’t hampered by our incompetent bureaucracy…”
Storch knew the real truth.
The Fürer snapped his fingers.
“Next.”
With his leader in a bad mood, Storch searched for something more “tame”. He handed over another document.
“Here’s a budgetary approval for a new infrastructure development project in the West. The fortifications on the border are progressing slowly and Western Headquarters is requesting more funding from the civil sector for better roads and railways.”
President Bradley did not even glance at the paper, but signed without reading. It was actually more common for him to do that than anything else. He signed hundreds of bills, acts, budgets, and laws into effect on any given week. The documents were already curated by the Central Faction and summarized by Storch so the Fürer usually only read things that he needed more information on. He was the Fürer after all. No one dared to cross him and no signed paper would change the fate of those that did. Storch believed that with every fiber of his being; his instincts from Ishval were telling him that he was the most powerful man in more ways than just politically.
The President shrugged as he toss the document with the previous one.
“The situation in the West didn’t resolve itself the way we planned, but our quota there was met, so it’s not a problem. This is a small price to keep the Academic Faction happy. They can huddle up in their fortresses for all I care. The blood samples of Creta’s Chimera program we received were worth ending that war early.”
‘I’m glad I’m on the winning side.’
That was one thing he never took for granted: Fürer-President King Bradley was more powerful than anyone realized. Ishval, the Western Border Conflict, the lives of everyone in Amestris was in the palm of his hands. Storch was certain that, until now, he had just been a pawn in this man’s plans. While he was not arrogant enough to think his new position had given him complete control over his life, he at least he knew he would not be disposed of as trivially as his “comrades” had in Ishval.
He noticed the Fürer looking at him calculatingly and tried not to let his fear show.
‘Can he sense my discomfort? No, focus! I have a job to do.’
His worries showed on his face despite his best efforts, so he mindlessly pulled out another document and read it over.
“A-anyway, moving on. This is a report from the Procurement Office asking for… an extension of one of their projects. They want another extension of their efforts to shut down… the Operation Orb Program?”
The leader of Amestris went silent. He steepled his hands with enough pressure that his knuckles turned white. The emotionless face of his leader terrified him.
“Lieutenant Colonel Storch… I’m not sure I heard that right. Are you saying that the Operation Orb Program – a program headed by a known threat to the Centralist cause – has been working under my nose for the past three months when I made it crystal clear that they’re to be shut down? Can it be understood, then, that the Mythril Alchemist has not yet been found guilty of something and kicked out of the military. Is that what this report is inferring?”
He realized that someone had done something horribly wrong and he missed it. Storch’s right hand shook, and he was forced to pull it behind his back. It was a symptom of some manner of madness he picked up from the war.
‘Damn cowardice. I should be better than this! I’m not even risking my life anymore and the Fürer has made it clear I can speak my mind. What’s wrong with me?’
He tried to keep his voice under control.
“Ah… that, uh, Fürer I can explain-”
Just as suddenly as the emotionless visage appeared, it vanished off of the Fürer’s face and was replaced by a pleasant grin.
“Haha. Don’t worry. I’m certainly not upset with you; I’m pleased in fact, really. I’m glad you brought this to me.”
Despite his superior’s reassurances, he was still frustrated at the show of weakness and his hand did not stop shaking behind his back.
“I’m f-fine sir. Please continue.”
President Bradley nodded, stood up, and looked out from the window behind him.
“This news is very bad you understand? Someone has been covering for the Mythril Alchemist and I want to know why. Why has our faction – the strongest in Amestris – been unable to get rid of a single little girl. A month I could understand – I had wanted the removal to be discrete as she’s become something of a celebrity – but three months?!”
His leader turned back to look him dead in the eye.
“You are one of the few people I can trust right now. Get to the bottom of this, do you understand?”
Storch hesitated.
“Do- what do you want me to do? I can investigate for you, but… what comes after?”
The cold, emotionless stare returned.
“You leave that to me.”
---
April 9th, 1909, Interrogation Room #9, Central Headquarters, Central, Amestris – Lust POV
Lust had been tasked by Wrath to help his secretary investigate into “The Mythril Alchemist Problem”. This sort of investigation was her calling. She was intelligent, an expert in persuading suspects, and could handle herself in combat if negotiations broke down. As the second-oldest Homonculus, she had hundreds of years of experience which she had used to cultivate her innate charisma to superhuman levels.
No other Homonculus came close.
Wrath was competent, but too young and inexperienced. Envy’s ability to disguise themself certainly made them far better at subversion… but they were impulsive and reckless. Gluttony and Sloth… she loved her brothers, but unless they could be pointed at something and tasked to destroy it, they were better left out. Then there was Pride… The situation with Greed and the old Wrath made it clear that certain mindsets could not be tolerated. Father knew of Pride’s rebellious nature and… “leashed” him for lack of a better word. He was kept out of their work and Father drip-fed him platitudes to keep him compliant. Either Pride had become too senile with age to recognize that his work as an inconsequential human child was not at all valuable, or was smart enough to not to raise a fuss in light of the fates of their former siblings.
All that meant was that she had a heavy burden in furthering Father’s Plans and could not afford to fail… which was why the current situation was so frustrating.
In a small concrete room below Central Headquarters, Lust was seated with Wrath’s Secretary on uncomfortable metal chairs at a metal desk welded to the floor. She was in her officer disguise as “Major Solaris” and wore an Amestrian uniform that was creatively altered to be tight in all the right places. Across from her sat a squirrelly older officer who wore thick glasses and was handcuffed to his seat.
“Please, you have to believe me! I have no idea why the Brigadier General left! I swear!”
Major Davis Greene was the Adjutant of Brigadier General Edison, the head of the Procurement Division for the whole Central Region of Amestris. A General who last night had received word of the Storch’s investigation into the Mythril Alchemist, grabbed a pile of things from his office and his home, and disappeared. Despite their best efforts and the work of the entire Central Intelligence Department, the only information that could be found on the traitor was that he was last seen heading south. The General had been a high-ranking member of the Central Faction although – thankfully – not part of the inner circle. Lust needed to know what the General had learned of Father’s Plans – if anything – and who else was involved. This Adjutant was their only lead.
Secretary Storch stood up, from his chair and slammed the desk in front of him.
“You’re lying! We have multiple people in Procurement that will testify under oath against you! You’re not looking at some slap on the wrist for this. This is treason! You’re going to face a firing squad for this!”
Lust tapped him on the shoulder and the Secretary immediately fell back into his seat like a puppet with their strings cut. He looked to her with a hint of fear in his eyes.
She resisted the urge to glare at the buffoon.
‘He’s capable and loyal… but a bit too much of a coward to be relied on for anything truly important.’
Wrath’s Secretary had done a commendable job and was Lust’s favorite type of person: a self-interested coward whose entire self-worth was tied to their job. So long as she dangled his career in front of him, he would do whatever she asked like a loyal puppy. Unfortunately, just like a dumb mutt, he had a skewed understanding of what his masters wanted.
During this interrogation, he was to be an “enemy” for Edison’s Adjutant to focus on. Lust had learned from her centuries of experience that when someone was focused on someone or something aggressive, she had a far easier time manipulating them to do what she wanted. It was also what made the masses so easy to control during war. However, Secretary Storch was so fearful of Lust’s position over him that even the most subtle hints that he was doing something wrong were seen as harsh rebukes that threatened his livelihood.
Still, he was more than good enough for someone like Edison’s Adjutant. The man looked close to breaking already, she just had to give them a little encouragement. She leaned forwards, letting the man focus on her chest and the deep-cut of her tight uniform. She grabbed one of his hands in hers and stared into his fearful eyes and gave the man a pleading look.
“Please Major Greene… I know you aren’t a traitor. You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time… b-but, the others, they can’t see that! I know you want to do the right thing. If you don’t say anything, the others will get away and you’ll be left to take the blame. Please… if you know anyone involved, we have to know!”
Whether it was the lust in his eyes for her, the fear of being killed, the man’s pathetic weakness, or vengeance against his co-conspirators for leaving him behind, he would crack. She knew his type; this man was no militant fanatic, but a vain opportunist at best. She had plenty more leverage if she needed it: she could get him on the phone with Wrath to further provoke his fear and patriotism, she could threaten or use torture, she could find the man’s family and friends. She could even bring in Envy disguised as someone he trusted, but with they were out on another mission and Lust could not afford to wait for them to return.
Of course none of that leverage would be necessary. It took less than 30 minutes for this man to break. Lust got everything she needed from the man… but she would keep him alive for now.
After all, she had plenty of uses for weak men.
---
April 10th, 1909, Southern Warehouse District, Central, Amestris – Lust POV
Lust had learned many interesting things over the past day.
As a high-ranking member of the Central Faction, Brigadier General Edison had earned his position by working for Father’s benefit, unknowingly of course. As the highest authority in Procurement, he worked with criminal organizations in Central to launder money by using the ill-gotten funds to purchase goods for the other State Departments and pocketing the difference. This was something that was encouraged. Father’s “Black Projects” were mostly funded by these sorts of activities. After all, the projects could hardly be kept secret if they were funded with Amestrian taxes. To avoid the other Factions from catching on and ruining the scheme, everything had been left very informal and without close scrutiny.
This had proven to be a mistake, one that Lust was eager to correct.
That did not mean they had been utterly incompetent. Homonculi obviously could not trust humans, and so Edison – like all assets they used – were under regular supervision, but there was only so much supervision to go around and minor things often fell between the gaps. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell a minor slip-up from a major one. What had gone unnoticed however – and what her investigations into the traitor’s home, office and coworkers had concluded – was that he had been selling Amestrian secrets. She had not found anything damaging to their cause so far, but they could not afford even a small leak. The Entente War of 1781 proved that humanity could unite against them if given enough cause. They could not afford such a setback so close to the end. She had ruled out Edison’s family, friends and coworkers from knowledge of their plans, all that was left were his criminal contacts.
Lust was no longer wearing the Amestrian uniform as a disguise; there was no need and the clothes could get damaged and leave evidence. Instead she wore her “skin” which appeared like a form-fitting black cocktail dress with matching shoulder-length gloves and high-heel boots. It might have looked out-of-place as she walked down the rows of metal-roofed, concrete warehouses, but even if she lost a limb, it would seek out and re-attach itself to her. So long as she killed any witnesses, it would be like she was never here.
She stopped at a small door down an alley, opened it, and walked inside. Despite the plain industrial exterior of the warehouse, the interior looked like a normal waiting room. A tough-looking male receptionist with an angry scar marking half his face sat at a desk in the center of the otherwise normal office space. The receptionist looked up from his work and immediately pressed a button on his desk without a second thought. In an instant, two large men walked in from further in the building. Both of them were holding automatic weapons which were illegal for civilians to own. They could only be part of a criminal organization: a well-connected one at that.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
‘It seems that Brigadier General Edison’s Adjutant was right, but why would the General bring in his obviously unreliable Adjutant into his criminality? These criminals haven’t fled either… is this some sort of trap?’
The scarred receptionist did not get up from his seat and stared at her with obvious anger in his eyes.
“I don’t think you have an appointment.”
She played her role and did her best to look worried. She raised her hands in fear.
“A-ah, don’t shoot! I think there’s a misunderstanding. I’m Brigadier General Edison’s new Adjutant. You probably realize you’ve lost contact with him by now. I-I need to speak with your boss before this whole situation goes out of control.”
The receptionist glared at her for a moment before going for his phone.
“Sir, there’s a ‘Brigadier General Edison’s Adjutant’ here to see you… yeah, no that’s the thing; she’s a dame… yeah, says she’s new…. Yeah, one moment.”
He looked up at her.
“I need a passcode to confirm who you are. We were not informed there was a change.”
Lust hid a smirk. Things were going well so far – if they were really involved, they should have fled or fought her by now – but she could not rule out some sort of trick. She would play the part of the damsel in distress for now.
“It should be ‘Purple Defiance’.”
The receptionist nodded and repeated the words into the phone. After a few more nods and responses, he hung up the phone. He turned to the two ‘heavies’ next to him.
“She’s to see the boss. Don’t let her out of your sight until she leaves and keep her on track.”
They nodded and gestured for her to follow them which she did.
Going through the door, she looked at the operation happening on the inside. Rather than the storage space it looked like on the outside, the inside of the warehouse was clearly a factory. Lines of masked workers were busy taking scoops of yellow powder from barrels and loading them into a machine. When the powder filled the mechanism to the brim, the worker turned a handle, which caused paper to close around the powder and compress the package into a tightly formed ‘brick’.
As she went down the rows, the work transitioned to money-counting. Over twenty workers were flipping through Amestrian 500, 1000, 2000 and 10000 notes with practiced ease and writing down the count on pieces of paper next to them before packing the bills into tightly-wound stacks and setting them aside into large piles. She could estimate there was at least a few million Cens.
Lust smirked.
‘That must be the Aerugan “Lira” drug… so this is an Aerugan Mafia Operation. The Intelligence Division said as much, but they also failed to catch a spy who had an office two floors above them in Central Command. Actually… the traitor was last seen heading south… he could have used a drug smuggling route to cross the border with Aerugo. The border has been on high-alert this entire time, but if a gang like this could smuggle drugs, they could smuggle a person.’
Her entourage made it to the far end of the warehouse and led her into a small room. The space was filled with five workers doing their best to organize reams of paper into filing cabinets. In the center of the room was a heavyset man wearing a thick jacket and fedora sitting at a desk covered in a disorganized mess of used cigars and crumpled paper. Based on the gold watch at his wrist, she could guess that this man was the “leader”.
He looked up from his work, gave her a lecherous smile, and made his way over to her.
“Ah, now if this isn’t a sight for sore eyes, belladonna. If Marco told me I would be visited by someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t have bothered with a silly passcode. Il Generale di Brigata Edison has certainly improved his taste in adjutant since we last met. Il buongusto!”
The men in the room clapped at the cheer.
Far from being uncomfortable with the attention, Lust relished in it. Her tight-fitting, low-cut dress certainly left little to the imagination. However, she had a role to play, and a young military woman surrounded by a depraved criminals could not “flaunt”. That did not mean she was out of options to entice them, however. She blushed and looked away, trying in vain to cover her exposed areas with her hands. The action had the intended effect as all the men in the room stopped and stared at her.
“I-I’m g-glad to hear that. Please call me… um, Major Solaris. General Edison… he said you were criminals but…”
The boss frowned a little and looked to see all his men staring at her with barely concealed lust.
“Hey! Pigri idioti! You think I pay you to stare at pretty woman?! Get to work! Ora! Con fretta!”
The men jumped and now did their best to ignore her. She chuckled with a hint of false nervousness and made her way to a seat opposite the boss at his desk. The man poured himself a glass of wine and waved it around, laughing with her.
“Don’t mind my workers, they sorely miss home and your figura mozzafiato is something sorely lacking in this country. Ah, but where are my manners. My name is Giovanni Sollozzo, the Don of this little piece of paradise. Please, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here.”
Those last few works were punctuated with none of the pleasantry of the earlier conversation. It seemed her ploy to push the man more to her side had not worked as much as she hoped.
‘It seems like this “Don” won’t be won over by the tittering of a pretty face, though I guessed as much. It doesn’t usually work on these criminal types: too paranoid and surrounded by toadies to fall for the “easy” tricks.’
Lust could see it had worked a little. The man was far less nervous than he had been when she first walked in. Playing up her role, she made herself look afraid for her life. She took out an envelope sealed with Brigadier General Edison’s personal stamp and handed it to Don Sollozzo. It was one of a dozen possible letters she had made and stashed in her body – each one with slightly different wording in case she learned something new. The contents were fake of course, but the gang’s reaction would give her the proof she needed about their involvement and what they knew.
The envelope was taken by one of the armed guards who looked at her with indifference. She made a play to take the envelope back but was denied. Lust gave a betrayed look to Don Sollozzo.
“T-the General wanted me this letter to you personally. He said that if I gave it to you, you would be able to get me safety.”
The Don gave a signal to the man holding the letter. The man took out a sharp stiletto knife from his jacket and slashed the top of the envelope off with deft ease. Taking the letter out, he quickly checked the contents before handing it to his boss. Giovanni read the letter silently for a minute before jumping up in his seat.
“Edison has been made?! He escaped to the motherland and only told me in a letter?! Stupido bastardo! The State could be on our doorstep at any time!”
‘Got you.’
Lust’s lip curled slightly, but she still had one last piece of information to confirm. She feigned a look of surprise.
“What do you mean? I thought you were the General’s connection with Aerugo.”
Giovanni looked at her in confusion.
“Huh? No, he came to us. After he provided those supply routes into the country, we… wait. If he had other connections to Aerugo and fled to the motherland… than was he a spy?”
She smiled.
“I guess that means you don’t know his contact in Aerugo then.”
He frowned.
“No, it would have to be someone in the military-”
He looked at her warily.
“But then why didn’t he bring you with him? If you know this much, you’re a huge liability to him.”
She shrugged irreverently at the corpse, but decided to play along.
“The General never trusted anyone, as it turned out. Time will tell if that was a good decision or not.”
Giovanni’s looked at her with complete bewilderment.
“Huh-”
The “Don” could hardly utter a word as one of Lust’s fingers extended into a sharp claw which pierced through his brain and out the other end. By the time she retracted it back into her hand, the man collapsed onto his desk, blood spilling over the papers littered over it.
‘Ah, I’ll need to avoid being too messy or I could damage the evidence. Some of those papers could lead to a few of the smuggling routes… maybe even a contact or two in Aerugo.’
She had all the information she needed from these people and she knew from experience that criminals never gave up anything useful. Anyone stupid enough to think they would be kept alive were never told anything important, and anyone else was smart, loyal and vengeful enough to take their secrets to the grave. It was clear this “Mafia” was just a convenient associate for the Brigadier General, so the best use of her talents was to remove them before any money trail could be tied from their operations to Father’s secret projects.
She sat up from her seat just as the two “heavies” brought their automatic rifles to bear on her thin frame. Stupidly, they did not immediately fire their weapons.
“What did you do to the boss?!”
“What the hell was that?!”
“Ahh!”
The room quickly turned to panic, but with her centuries of experience, handing it was second-nature to her. She prioritized her targets. With the flick of a wrist, the two men pointing weapons at her were decapitated. She spun around and thrust her hands out. In an instant, three more heads were punctured and another man was stabbed in the arm. With a follow-up thrust, two more men and the one previously stabbed in the arm were all killed. In less than 2 seconds, everyone in the room was dead, their bodies executed in such a way that their bodies landed inwards and away from the cabinets. She did not want to risk getting their blood on the paper.
Now she needed to finish off the rest.
Exiting the small room, Lust’s new position afforded an excellent view of the factory. She made a quick headcount of the workers before her claws slashed through two nearby steel girders supporting the warehouse roof. Being cut on an angle, they crashed into the production lines below. Some of the workers were crushed by the debris which also served to break line-of-sight between herself and a group of the mafia members far off to her right. They were rushing to grab guns from their armory and she wanted to give them a “chance” against her. She could only keep in combat shape if she took “risks” after all.
““Ahh!””
“What the hell’s happening?”
“Get the guns, we’re under attack!”
Using the newfound havoc as a backdrop, Lust got to work. She rushed along the left wall, closing the distance with the workers who were trying to flee while also distancing herself from any risk of collateral damage befalling the records room. With a wide smile, she waved her hands with finely-honed precision. Every movement sent her sharp claws into the bodies of the horrified workers. Body-parts were flung with the force of her attacks, smashing into the well-stacked bricks of drugs and money, throwing the order into chaos. Blood scattered onto the floor and walls like a modernist painter’s canvas. Having long grown bored of killing humans in “ordinary” ways, Lust worked to kill them in pairs or triplets, trying to get their screams to combine in distinct ways or to organize their corpses in unique arrangements. The terror and fear on the faces of the “tough criminals” made the smile on her face grow wider. Her sadism reveled in the dichotomy.
Gunshots from her right interrupted her bloodbath and she jumped behind one of the collapsed steel girders to hide from the shots. Her Homonculus body could regenerate from wounds, but they still hurt a little. Besides, letting herself be hit by such pathetic humans was an insult. Even if pride was not her emotion, she still had a healthy amount of it.
Crouching low, she jumped into the air and climbed the metal pillar until she was grabbing hold of a cross-beam holding up the roof. From her new birds-eye vantage-point, she could see a group of six mafioso soldiers slowly moving towards her position, ignorant of her new perch. Humans never looked up. Pushing off of the roof, she leaped into the middle of their group. They did not have time to react. With a twist of her body, she spun her claws around herself like a whirlwind of blades. The six men were eviscerated. Blood and chunks of flesh rained down, drenching her in the viscera.
She took that moment to look around the warehouse and double-checked her headcount against the people she just killed. She could feel the heat of the entrails cooling against her skin. Confident that her job was done, she focused on the multitude of souls that inhabited her form. She pushed her desires into them and they rushed to surrender to her will. With a flash of red-tinted alchemy, the blood and guts clinging to her were cast away from her body, leaving her once again untainted amid the macabre devastation around her.
‘As much as the sadist in me enjoys it, bodily fluids have the tendency to feel uncomfortable very quickly. So cold and sticky… urgh.’
With the violence taken care of, she made her way back to the front of the warehouse. Opening the door she-
*BANG*
Pain erupted from her torso as she stared into the scarred face of the receptionist. Looking down, she could see him wielding a shotgun.
“Ah… forgot the receptionist…”
Lust collapsed into a heap on the floor. Her “killer” stepped away and spat at floor in front of her.
“T-take that p-psicopatico demoniaco!”
The man turned away from her and rushed out the exit.
With a chuckle, Lust pushed herself up. She pushed the pain she could have felt from the hole in her chest onto the souls that inhabited her. They screamed out in agony and did what she had “trained” them to do. They used the very energies of their existence to make the pain go away by regenerating her body. By the time she got to her feet, the hole in her body was sealed.
“Lust is hurt!”
She looked up to see the short, bald and chubby form of her brother Gluttony rush to her aid. The child had been munching on a human arm, but tossed it away in his rush to be by her side. She was touched he cared about her so much he would neglect food. She chuckled and patted her brother’s smooth head tenderly.
“Oh dear. Don’t worry Gluttony, as you can see I’m fine. Did you get the man who just ran outside?”
Gluttony gave her a wide smile.
“Yes, yes! I ate him. I did! Did he hurt you?”
She wanted to pinch his cute cheeks, but held back. Gluttony did not like it when she “mothered” him too much. He was a big boy after all.
“That was the man who did it. You’ve already avenged me. My hero.”
Gluttony gave her a wide smile before showing her an adorable look of realization. With a hop, he grabbed the arm he dropped and “slurped” it into his gullet like a noodle.
Lust laughed at the amusing scene and patted her partner-in-crime on the head. She pointed to the door behind her.
“Alright Gluttony, I’m going to head back to the car to talk to Wrath. Can you clean up the bodies? I left some of them in pieces so you might have to look around to get them all. Just make sure not to eat anything else. There are some important papers we need to keep. We’ll head back home after that, alright?”
He gave her an enthusiastic nod before quickly waddling his way though the door. She did not follow after him and instead made her way outside and towards the car. Her brother might be the most “simple” of the Homonculi, but he was not stupid. He would do what he was told, especially if it meant eating.
She arrived at the car that was parked a short walk away from the warehouse. She opened the passenger-side door and took a seat. In the drivers seat to her right, Wrath’s secretary was pale and his hands shook. Lust smirked. The man no doubt heard a little of what happened; the screams were hardly quiet. She lightly tapped his arm “accidentally” as she made for the radio in the center console of the car. She almost laughed at how much the man flinched at the contact.
‘You really fear us now, don’t you? You were a real “tough soldier” that survived Ishval… but you won’t say anything about tonight, will you? You can’t trust anyone and no one would believe you.’
Lust could see Secretary Storch was close to breaking; she had the process down to something of an “Art”. She would have Wrath prime him with a few comments: a reminder every few days about what had happened and the price of treason. He would be plagued by nightmares and paranoia… which would make for the perfect time for the Intelligence Division to begin tailing him and learning his habits. At that point, he would fall back on bad habits and – if he still had a single ounce of bravery left in his pathetic body – he might even hint to a friend or two about what was happening. Nothing important, not with so much scrutiny on him. Then – using the information gathered from Intelligence – Envy would visit him wearing the face of one of his friends… and drop the disguise. He would never be able to trust another human ever again.
Lust looked at the nervous man to her right.
‘Ah… if only I could see his face in that moment. It’s always so beautiful; a look of utter despair and resignation. Maybe I could have Envy take a photograph with a camera – one of those new ones that can capture the image in an instant. I wish those had been around two hundred years ago. There are so many memories I would’ve loved to preserve…’
She shook her head. She was getting distracted on the job. She picked up the radio – a large bulky thing – and tuned the frequency to reduce the hiss and crackles coming from the receiver. With a click, the radio created a secure connection to Wrath’s office from anywhere in Central. She tapped a sequence of beeps into the receiver. It was a passcode that would let him know it was really her on the other end. It also gave him the ability to ignore her call if he was busy with something else; he was the leader of the nation after all.
This was not one of those cases as everything had been planned in advance. In just a few seconds, there was a few beeps signaling the counter-passcode and Wrath’s voice spoke up.
“What’s the situation?”
She gave him an overview of her investigation so far.
“… and so Edison used his contacts outside the country. The criminals he worked with were just pawns and had no knowledge of his activities. The only thing tying them together was a connection to Aerugo. Intelligence can start there, but I imagine that our spies in Aerugo will spot him soon. We just need someone to doctor the evidence of where the criminal money was going and we will be in the clear.”
She heard Wrath give a sigh of relief. She could empathize with Wrath’s situation. If this had been any worse, he would have had to answer to Father. As it stood, the mess was mostly the Central Faction’s problem.
Wrath replied back in an even tone masking whatever emotions he was feeling.
“Good, that means the worst case scenario is ruled out.”
Lust nodded, but stopped. She had difficulty adapting to this new “phone” technology and sometimes forgot she was not actually speaking to someone across from her.
“In any case, I assume you wanted to have people from the Centralists pick up the gang’s documents? Gluttony is cleaning up so you can send them out any time.”
“Yes and I will oversee things personally. Anyone involved with this – no matter how tangentially – is a liability. I’ll even let the judiciary finally do their jobs for once and clean up this whole mess for us. In the meantime…”
Lust clenched the phone in her hand enough that it cracked from the pressure. She ignored the yelp from the Secretary to her right and leaned forwards. There was still one “loose end” they needed to get rid of.
“Mythril.”
Wrath paused for a moment before responding.
“It’s been a while since her project was inspected. I’ve had Major Solaris assigned to lead the team of inspectors. Find out whatever you can.”
She could read between the lines. Her “Amestrian Officer” cover would mean she was not being tasked with an assassination. She scowled and extended her claws, cutting into the car’s dashboard.
“That’s not what I want to hear, Wrath. Why are we not getting rid of her?”
Wrath sighed.
“And push her backers into hiding? No. Need I remind you that just the hint of her name allowed us to uncover a big prize? Edison could have gone under the radar for years… Of course, if you can prove she’s an imminent threat, take her out… but this whole situation is only proving that the Centralists are rotten and at risk of crumbling from within. The Armstrongs can sense our weakness – they wouldn’t have supported Mythril’s project so openly otherwise. We need to do some housecleaning before we can start taking risks again.”
Lust retracted her claws and smirked.
“I will hold back for now… but this isn’t some ‘parental’ attachment, is it? You do have a ‘child’ of your own and you are the most human of our group.”
Wrath chuckled.
“I was younger than her when I was recruited for the Wrath Program. Lust… I won’t pretend that I can give you orders, but you’re the smartest of us. Mythril lives or dies by your hand. I trust you can show some restraint, right?”
Lust hung up the phone with a frown. As much as she wanted to deny it, her brother was right.
She turned to see Gluttony enter the car so she grabbed her ‘chauffeur’ by the shoulder and pointed ahead.
“Drive.”
The car took off down the warehouse district roads in a rush. The man was sweating through his uniform and made an effort of looking dead-ahead. Every so often, however, she noticed his gaze wander towards the claw marks in the dashboard and she smirked.