Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Spoilers: through 51
Summary: Roy hasn't learned from other people's mistakes
Previous Parts: Prologue Part I
Notes: Yeah. So, I lied and stuff. The next one really should take some time before I finish it, as I have lots and lots of work to do. I just really wanted to get further into the story
The new office at Central is larger than the one he had in East. It's almost a chance for a new beginning here. Roy has Havoc, Hawkeye, and the rest unpack while he goes to report on the move.
Last, night, Seska saw him outside Maes' house. It was like being caught with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. Half humiliating, half painful. Good thing she was more concerned with finding out who murdered him than the reasons why Roy was lurking about Maes' house.
She was frantic, desperate, her hair more of a mess than usual. The books she'd given him had been heavy in his lap. It made him feel something, through the half-denial he's living in. Guilt maybe. Seska looked desperate for revenge, her hands clenched into fists, and almost in tears just thinking about it. Roy wants revenge, too.
But he wants Maes back more.
He sits at his desk, trying his best to get used to the difference. It simply feels strange to be here, to be in Central again. It feels lonely. Roy doesn't like to dwell on that thought. It's almost a relief when Bradley shows up without warning.
Roy snaps into a salute quickly, his hand moving into position purely on instinct. The Fuhrer grins, crinkling the lines of his face, and waves it off. Despite his faults, Bradley is a likeable man, and Roy has to keep the reasons why he hates him at the back of his mind.
"I'm not sure whether I should be offended or flattered," Bradley says in greeting. It throws Roy off guard. Huh?
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what you're talking about."
Bradley grins and points to Roy's eyepatch. If Roy were inclined toward blushing, he would have. He merely nods and does his best to brush off the comment.
"Oh, that. I was just careless," he says, hoping the Fuhrer won't question further. No need to tell the leader of the military that you attempted an illegal transmutation. No need at all.
Luckily, Bradley has more important things to talk about. "There's been a murder that's stumped the police. We'd like you to take over the case."
Roy blinks in surprise. Well, this was something different. He hadn't expected a new assignment so soon, let alone one so involved.
"Why me, sir?" he asks. There's no point in hiding his confusion. That's obvious enough as it is. The past cases he'd taken on were usually by choice. No one ever assigned them to him.
And Hughes usually did a lot of the grunt work. Roy cuts that thought short before he depresses himself.
Bradley smiles again, and Roy can't help but feel a chill at the sight of it. Too arrogant, like he knows he can use you and throw you away. "You did great with Barry the Butcher. This shouldn't be any problem."
Roy bows, short and formal. "There won't be any, sir." The words sound empty to his ears. If the Fuhrer is personally assigning this case, it can't be that easy or simple. Roy wants to know the game. He wants to know the rules and where the fucking cards are. Bradley, seeing that his orders will be carried out, takes his leave.
He waves on his way out the door. "Of course there won't be, Colonel Mustang."
Roy doesn't like that tone at all.
A man wearing a military uniform entered the room. A shorter woman with brown hair accompanied him.
"Is everything going well?" she asked. There was an undeniable air of authority to her, even though she was the one following.
The man smiled. It was not a very inviting expression. "Colonel Mustang will be occupied."
"How so?" The woman said the words with a certain detachment. Perhaps she had more important things occupying her mind.
"Wrath is taking care of it," the man said with a casual wave of his hand. "The game begins."
His laughter echoed off the walls.