My longest one yet! Seven and a half pages(eleven if you count part 1). I really outdid myself this time.
Parings: Slight Hohenheim/Trisha, OC/Gran(yes, Gran)
Spoilers: Episode 15
Warnings: Demons, references to H-Games and things you can do with tentacles, mild language, references to violence
“Honey, that hat looks silly,” said Trisha disapprovingly. “And I’m sorry, but that trenchcoat looks horrible on you.”
Mrs. Elric had a point: the black wide-brimmed hat looked horribly gaudy, and his faded brown coat with various religious symbols sewn into it looked as if it had gone out of fashion a century ago. It worked for the various Alucards that had betrayed their fellow demonic forces, and it may have worked for Van Helsing, but it certainly didn’t work for Hohenheim.
“It’s standard exorcism gear,” said Hohenheim with the air of someone who had tried to explain this too many times to too many different people. “I’d be laughed out of the exorcism community, and I’m the only one who really knows what I’m doing these days.”
“Well, at least take off that ridiculous necklace. Honestly, you look like you’re emulating those young rebels who draw strange symbols on churches-“
“Sorry, honey, there’s a demon out there who could be eating somebody’s baby this second,” said Hohenheim as he hastily exited the house. Trisha stared in a mixture of anxiety and marital fury, and then yelled out, “Don’t get yourself killed!”
Admirala was distraught.
“I just wanted to pway doctor,” she said to nobody in particular. “I reawwy did. They didn’t have to be so mean.” She thought back to when her parents had been angry with her. They always punished her, didn’t they? And they got what was coming to them.
An evil smile spread across Admirala’s face. Edward would get what was coming to him now.
She struck out in the direction of the Elrics’ house.
“You!” snarled Gran at an innocent townsperson, who blinked. People didn’t talk to you like that in Risembool.
“Have you seen-“ he paused to look at the paper that had been given to him “- a small girl, about three years old, with green hair and a cloud of sparkles surrounding her, goes by the name of Admirala-“
The man’s face screwed up in horror.
“Y’mean, the little demon girl whose house burned down a few days ago?”
“If her name is Admirala Edwina Pheonix, then yes,” answered the general, furious that this uneducated redneck had interrupted him. The man pointed in the direction of the road that led to Edward’s house.
“She was last seen… oh, round that way. You won’t tell her I sent you, will you? Because I don’t want my crops to fail-“
“Just shut up,” snarled Gran. “I don’t have time for you and your little hick town.”
If looks could kill, then Scar would’ve been spared the trouble of killing Gran a few years later. As soon as the general’s back was turned, the farmer gave him a prime example of the Risembool County One-Finger Salute.
Hohenheim ran through his list of supplies. Cross? Check. Lemon? Check. Carrot? Check. Mallet? Check. Holy water? Just blessed yesterday. Stakes? None. He hoped he wouldn’t need any. Staff with a knob on the end? Check.(5)
(5) You never knew when you needed an impromptu, easily transmutable weapon. It helped if it was also the subject of an amusing song that you could hum to take your mind off the gravity of the situation.
He was set for whatever kind of demon that Admirala happened to be. He stopped walking when he noticed the glimmer of sparkles climb into view.
It began to rain.
“Bugger!” snarled Gran. It always had to start raining when he hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella… and that thunder didn’t sound too promising.(6) He’d have to find his quarry soon…
(6) It was a common military joke that Gran couldn’t go out in a thunderstorm because his moustache would act as a lightning rod. It became much less common when Gran heard it himself.
He noticed a glimmer of sparkles up ahead and smiled grimly. It was his lucky day.
“Hi, Mister Edward’s-Daddy-Person,” said Admirala in a tone that would make brave men dart towards the nearest bomb shelter. “Did you change your mind about playing with me?”
Hohenheim noted that the painfully cute lisp had disappeared. It was probably just a ruse to cover up her demonic nature… or had the deaths of her parents awakened her powers? Nevertheless, the exorcist stood his ground.
“If you could call it playing,” he answered grimly. He removed the cross from the chain around his neck and held it out at arm’s length. “In the name of whatever god’s listening at this moment, depart from this world, foul spirit!” As soon as the words left his mouth he grimaced. That had to be one of the cheesiest exorcisms in recent history. Admirala just stared.
“What’s that supposed to be?”
Oh, hell. It wasn’t working.
“It’s a, er, crucifix. It’s supposed to be good at offing demons-“
“What is going on here?”
Hohenheim turned to see Gran, soaked to the bone(7) and angrier than a cat that’s been sat on.
(7) Though his moustache was still in perfect condition.
“An exorcism, sir. I’d advise you to stand back if you value your immortal soul.”
A vein bulged in Gran’s temple. He had come to some backwater town when there was a war to be fought, it was raining, and some fruit in a stupid hat was impeding his progress.
“Now, see here,” said the general, trying (and failing) to keep his voice under control, “I’ve got an order to claim this girl here-“ he pointed to Admirala, who smiled charmingly “-and bring her back to Central for the war effort.”
Hohenheim stared in a mixture and horror and amazement. “I never thought the Fuhrer would stoop so low as to involve children. But, considering whom he is, I wouldn’t expect him to have any real morals.”
“If you hand over the girl, then I will pretend that I never heard that statement and you will not be convicted of treason.”
“She’ll eat your soul! You can see the bloody symbol of the Beast on her forehead!”
“If she eats my soul, then it’s my problem, then, isn’t it?”
Hohenheim gaped. What kind of morons were in charge of the Amestrian government these days?
“Look, I’m doing this for the good of humanity-“
Gran had enough. He was lucky he’d brought his gauntlet along.
“Do you know who you are talking to?” snarled the general.
“Some idiot with no sense of self-preservation?”
“I am General Basque Gran, the Iron-Blood Alchemist!”
“Oh, so you’re the general who, by popular consensus, is the worst bastard to have a position in the military?” The corner of Hohenheim’s mouth twisted up. “Pleased to meet you. My name’s Hohenheim. Of the Light, if you want to be precise.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for when I tell your relatives where all five of your graves are.”
Admirala, who had been tormenting a frog for the past few minutes, broke the argument.
“This is boring,” she whined. “I wanna go with the guy with the moustache.”
“See?” said Gran triumphantly. “She knows what’s good for her!”
A debate raged inside Hohenheim. On one hand, no sane man would unleash that thing on the world. He’d be regarded as an international loser and end up demonized in all sorts of history books and fairy tales, if there was any world left.
On the other hand, the military would be first to receive the blow, and it was doubtless that this idiot would claim all credit for finding the girl in the first place. His name probably wouldn’t be mentioned. If it was, it would end up terribly mispronounced and the world’s destruction would be attributed to a Horham of Luke.
All in all, the latter seemed more likely.
“Fine. Take the girl, you pedophile. If things come to the end of the world, then don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Hohenheim adjusted his hat and began to walk off, which infuriated Gran. How dare he just walk off after insulting him like that?
“Your hat is stupid!” he snarled, hoping to gain some kind of upper hand.
“It’s more for functionality than looks,” said Hohenheim over his shoulder. “Note that I am not completely soaked and you are.”
The man had disappeared into the rain before Gran could brutalize him, narrowly avoiding the Risembool Rebellion that, in another universe, was an embarrassing loss for the Amestrian government. Which might’ve been better for humanity in general, as in that leg of the Trousers of Time, Admirala was killed in the crossfire.
That universe is, unfortunately, not the one being recorded here.
“Thank you for saving me, Mr. Guy-With-A-Cool-Moustache!” said Admirala cheerfully.
“Yeah, okay, shut up, kid.”
“You are just walking out of school when you see Asuka Namikawa, the hottest girl in the school. She has straight black hair, long legs, and an eighty millimeter chest. What do you do?
If you ASK HER OUT, turn to page 18.
If you STALK HER, turn to page 91.
If you PUT IT IN, turn to page 50.”
“Put it in? What kind of option is that?” asked a pale, dark haired youth of about twenty. His name was Roy Mustang.
“It could be talking about a cassette tape, considering how popular they are in Xing.” said a man who looked to be in his late thirties who seemed cursed with premature balding, as the only hair he had was one blond bang. Another curious thing about him was the fact that he seemed to sparkle in a certain light. It should come as no surprise to find out that this man’s name was Alex Louis Armstrong.
“Won’t hurt to find out,” said the man currently in possession of the book. He had long black hair that was tied back in a ponytail and lupine yellow eyes. He was rather attractive, but anyone who had heard of him would decline as politely as possible. Of course, that situation would never present itself, as Zolf J. Kimblee was interested in one thing: explosions. The bigger, the better.
Kimblee flipped to page fifty and was greeted with an… interesting illustration.
“Holy- That can’t be legal!”
“Let me see,” said Roy, who immediately wished he hadn’t. “Ugh! What kind of person would like that kind of thing?”
“That reminds me of a tapestry I saw when I was studying Shogi culture,” said Armstrong. “I always wondered what the obsession with the tentacles was fueled by.”
“Well, I did hear that in Xing you’re not allowed to draw a-“
“Attention!” yelled Gran as he walked into the tent. Kimblee quickly hid the incriminating book under his bench. “I have some good news for you all!”
“The war’s over?” inquired Armstrong.
“I’m being promoted?” asked Roy excitedly.
“We’re getting more of those Philosopher’s Stone things?” said Kimblee with an odd gleam in his eyes.
“No,” said Gran, which caused a small drop in the interest levels of the three soldiers. “We have a secret weapon.”
There was an awkward silence.
“I thought the Philosopher’s Stones were-“ began Roy, who was quickly cut off.
“You will not question your superiors, Flame!” snarled Gran.
A green haired girl of about five walked into the tent. She waved cutely, but there was something about her that was horribly wrong. It was like a puppy drenched in human blood.
“This is Admirala Edwina Pheonix, the Sparkilypoo Alchemist,”(8) said Gran as he absently gestured to the girl. “She has been undergoing rigorous training programs for the past two- stop snickering, Crimson!”
(8) Edward was considered the youngest State Alchemist because Bradley felt that the public would sleep better if they didn’t know about Admirala.
“Sorry, sir,” said Kimblee as he tried to restrain his laughter. “It’s just that I doubt a little girl could do much damage.”
“Oh, you’ll find out what she can do soon enough,” said Gran darkly.
“Hi, everyone!” said Admirala. “I know it seems kinda weird, but I’m sure we’ll be friends soon enough!”
Admirala couldn’t have been farther from the mark. Kimblee loathed her as soon as she opened her mouth. If she was as powerful as Gran had said, then he wouldn’t be able to make as many things explode. Besides, she had the most annoying voice he had ever heard. Kimblee resolved that, the first chance he got, he would kill her and make it look like an accident.
Roy was afraid of her. There was something very wrong about Admirala. Perhaps it was the odd gleam in her eyes. Perhaps it was her smile, which somehow managed to be charming and chilling at the same time. Maybe it was nothing but a gut feeling, but whatever the case, he felt uncomfortable being in her general vicinity.
Armstrong felt disappointed that someone had figured out the Armstrong Family’s Sparkling Ability That Had Been Passed Down For Generations. It made him feel as though his copyright had been infringed on. Also, the girl made him uneasy. There was something very wrong about her, and Armstrong was one of the types who were generally good natured toward everyone.
Let us pretend for a few minutes that Admirala didn’t have any demonic powers. Imagine that she was killed in her first battle, that she was one of the few State Alchemist casualties of the war. The streets of the Ishbalan cities she was assigned to destroy didn’t run red with blood, there were no stories among surviving Ishbalans of an unholy child that killed countless people and left buildings standing as grim monuments.
It will make you a lot more cheerful.
(Yeah, I lied about Admirala’s age when she joined the military. I figured it would be more Sue-ish, and when do Suethors keep anything consistent?)