"Let the others go. They were my lead here, and without them I wouldn't have found these vermin. They preferred filthy money over the safety and lives of the people they swore to protect, and I stopped them!. They could have killed my sister with these weapons, or our friends!".
Armstrong's muscles flexed alongside the one in his skull, carefully considering the defense that his fellow State Alchemist made. His eyes, twinkling with a light that would have been intimidating--if he himself weren't so ridiculous--scanned the gangsters carefully. To their credit, they did not shrink away from him, and stared back with all the intensity they could muster. Their hands gripped their weapons as tightly as they could. Alex didn't need to inspect the crates personally. Enough ad been smashed open in the chaos to show their cargo, weapons of every variety spilled loosely to the floor.
The Major snorted, and furrowed his brow even further before saying, "You make a good point, soldier..."
THWACK-KRISS
His fist slammed to the floor, and a wall of stone erected itself between him and the other conscious men. The Indigos opened fire, their bullets flaking off little chinks of the barrier. Leo could hear Armstrong yell from the other side, "BUT ASSOCIATING WITH CRIMINALS?! MURDER?! YOU HAVE SIMPLE GONE. TOO. FAR!!!"
More blue bolts crackled out of the wall, and a chunk of rock smacked Casper so hard that the little man flipped through the air. He landed on his back, groaning in pain, and let out another yelp as the rock landed on his stomach. That was when the others noticed that said rock was carved in Armstrong's precise likeness. Slim Abel only had a second to gag in disgust at the man's self-indulgence when blue light filled their vision again.
Four stony, ludicrously well-toned arms reached from below, grabbing the weapons of the Indigo Gang and crushing their barrels to the diameter of a straw. The wall opened, revealing the Strong Arm Alchemist, buffing one arm and glaring daggers at the crooks. "BRING YOUR BEST, SCOUNDRELS."
"Oh, wit' pleasure." Mr. Indigo replied. In a blur of motion, he reached inside of his jacket coat and retrieved a pistol, sending one bullet straight for the burly man's head. Armstrong duck and wove left, and the entire room froze. A trickle of blood from a graze of a wound dripped down the side of Alex Louis' head, and his pupils shrunk to dots. The clenched muscles in his legs released and propelled him across the room. His right arm connected with Indigo's stomach, knocking the wind and just about everything else out of him as smashed into--and through--the opposite wall.
The conscious members of the gang looked back at the hole with shock plainly written on their faces. Zeke got the worst of this lapse in concentration with Armstrong's elbow met his temple. He flew to the ground, rolling back to his feet and putting up his dukes in time for them to get a heaping helping of collapsing ceiling. All Armstrong had to do was hop to reach the ceiling in this cramped place. With Zeke buried, the odds were beginning to even, and not in the way that Leo's allies had hoped. Darrel spun on his heel, very quickly deserving this entire fight deserved one big "nope" on his part. He sprinted for the door, and had nearly made it when a barrage of a thousand tiny Armstrong heads battered his back. He took a couple more jittering steps before collapsing in a pained, shuddering heap. That left Slim Abel.
Slim spat a gob of saliva to the floor, and cracked his neck. Alone suited him just fine. He shook his right shoulder up and down, jostling something from within his sleeve to slip into his hand. It was a knife, but the looks of it, with multiple barbs pointed towards the grip, which held a tiny ring at its end. A significant amount of razor wire was wrapped around this ring, and attached to a smaller barbed shiv at the other end. He took one blade in each hand and drew the wire taut, before flipping the larger knife over his shoulder. Across from him, Armstrong stood tall and cracked his knuckles. He put his fists up in a fighting stances, and gestured for Slim to start. Slim ran forward, tossing the larger blade over his shoulder and back at the Major, who shifted his body to the right, twisting his torso to let the knife slip past him harmlessly.
Slim grinned, and jumped to the left, yanking on the wire and letting it slice across Armstrong's chest. A neat line of blood was drawn as the razor cut, and the Alchemist roared in surprised. The pain was not finished, however, as the yank pulled back the knife. Its barbs bit into his left shoulder and hooked themselves there, tearing up the flesh as Abel yanked, leaping and pulling himself towards the bigger man. Both of his feet connected with Alex Louis, just underneath his jaw. The Major flipped back, hitting the floor with a powerful thud. Slim jumped away, detaching his knife and bringing it with. In the air, he threw the smaller knife back and let it sink straight into the Major's stomach, yet more blood pouring out of him. Alex choked.
Slim yanked himself back, his feet smashing into Armstrong's ribs and pulverizing them. In only a few moments the fight was over, and Slim Abel was standing triumphantly over--on, actually--the body of the Strong Arm alchemist, whose eyes were quickly dulling. The made man split the blades again, holding the razor wire over Armstrong's throat while lining up the killshot. Leo stepped forward, arm stretched out towards the action.
"Slim, stop! He's down, it's over!"
"Not over yet." Slim growled back. "Not over til he's off our trail. 'Til he's dead."
Slim licked his lips, savoring the moment.
That was when Armstrong's fists slammed on the ground.
Two pillars of rock shot out from opposite directions, dislocating both of Slim's arms as they lifted him over his head. What had appeared to be the victor of the fight was now suspended helplessly in the air, kicking and cursing and barely holding back tears of agony.
Leo watched Armstrong struggle back to his feet, breathing furiously to bring oxygen to his hurting, deprived lungs. Bright blue eyes honed by adrenaline met his.
"Your fellows are incapacitated. Stand down, Leopold. I'll be taking you in."
He blanched. No time to decide, he had to act. His foot slammed to the ground, and he yelled "I don't think so!"
A wave of rock billowed from the floor at Armstrong, nearly half the foundation's worth. With his right arm--the one that still worked, Alex wound up a punch, and smashed his fist against the tide. In an instant, it rebounded, and split off to every side in a cloud of dust. His shadow darted through it and brought a headbutt into Mensti's stomach. Leo choked up blood and was bowled over, crunched up and hurting as the other Alchemist stood over him.
"Hmph. You thought your skill was the like to stand against that of the Armstrong legacy?"
BANG
Armstrong gasped, the air leaving him as a bullet tore into his back. He collapsed to his hands and knees as the shooter dragged himself through the hole in the wall. Indigo was clutching his belly like nothing but bloody jello was left inside, but he was still moving, and clutching a new pistol.
"Nevah... leave th' house... widdout a third gun."
Casper stood and walked to his boss' side, helping him up. Zeke was the next to stumble over, chuckling as he threw a swift kick to Armstrong's battered side. The trio surrounded the Alchemist, chuckling to themselves. A fresh bout of curses from Abel caught Indigo's attention, who glared at the underling.
"Shaddup, Slim, we'll git ya down in a minute. First we've gotta deal wit' dis one."
He looked at Leopold next. "Go back to yer room an' get some rest. Best for yer sake if ya weren't around to "witness" what's comin' next."
For a moment, Leo thought to protest on Armstrong's behalf. Then he remembered the headbutt. He was a necessary sacrifice. He nodded to his boss and walked away, leaving the ruined building behind as he made a straight shot for his home.
Back inside, Indigo put a gun against Armstrong's forehead, pulling back the hammer.
"Ya know, never thought we'd be killin' two alchemists in a single week. It's like it's Christmas or something... hey, waitaminnut."
He looked around, confused, and pointed at the others. "Any'a youse seen Darrel?"
THUMP
The sound of a body hitting the floor in the doorway caught their attention. The man in question was on the floor, skin as pale as the moon and face gaunt as a ghost. His eyes were milky white, the life sucked out of them. His neck was eviscerated, only a few ligaments still attaching his head to the rest of him, and what little blood he had left was spilling out and staining his suit. The man who dropped him was dressed in a heavy coat, and his mad eyes glinted in the darkness. A red-stained grin was breathing heavily, letting out puffs of hot mist into the air. He spoke in a hushed, barely restrained tone.
"I smell him... his blood... he's been here."
He locked eyes with Indigo, and opened his mouth into a mortifying fanged grin.
"WHERE. IS. THE BAREFOOT ALCHEMIST?"
[hr]
The little cloaked man hesitated for just a moment as the cloak spread wide before him. It seemed his only options were to leap straight into it and let himself be bundled up, or hold still and let the charging man behind him catch up.
Instead, he went over. In a writhing, twisting mass of motion, the man leaped up and over the cloak entirely What was worse, Kallu's cloak now stopped him from seeing where he had gone. But, he did see one thing. Something slipping from beneath the man's cloak as he hopped into obscurity. Was that... a tail?
He had no way to know at the moment, and was forced to grind himself to a halt. As he caught his breath, he noticed someone was following him. Isaac, of all people, came floundering up and collapsed to the ground as soon as he'd reached his teammate. The stress of sprinting on his tattered body was about to rip him to shreds if he pushed much further.
Below them, they could see the alleyway was a dead end, with only a manhole to give them a possible route. Out in the street, the quiet night air was not shared by a single soul--only a splintered old sign for a bar called the Devil's Nest.
[hr]
"And you never know when you might have to deal with orders. Especially ones that deal with the extermination of an entire race."
Faith immediately began to move, reaching by instinct for something. Even if no guns were around, she would not be helpless. But in such a casual manner to suggest he was unaware he even did it, Hohenheim's hand grabbed hers and stopped it mid-motion. His face made the smallest adjustment in expression, to account for the gun in his face like it was some kind of gnat he hadn't noticed until now.
"James, put the gun away. We're guests in a home, no need to cause such a mess. You have orders... but you also have your own mind. Your own hands to take to task. No one's going to know or care if you miss one girl. Tell me, do you think your comrade somehow failed to notice what she was? And yet she's here, in his home."
