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The world was ending.
It wasn’t hyperbole. It wasn’t dramatization. Mustang stumbled about dazedly as the ground flung itself upwards in massive boulders. The rock chunks tearing in twain with air-rending crashes, stratifying into smaller specks as they stretched into the sky. He fell to one knee as solid earth pitched underneath him. He stared up in slack-jawed horror as the very sky itself seemed to split apart, the blackness of cold space eager to rush into the opening. It would be only seconds before there was nothing left now. Mustang wanted to scream, but by that point the air was already gone. He breathed in the void of space, staring up at two immense, cold, red eyes.
Mustang jolted awake with a clap of thunder. Rain was pounding the window outside the branch office. Mustang pushed himself up from his desk with a startled bleariness, fishing in his uniform for his silver pocket watch. Three in the morning. Had it been supposed to rain tonight? Mustang rubbed a hand across his face then yawned. He turned his chair to look out the window. It really was pouring down out there. Markov never truly slept. Even here in the deep night, and amidst a torrential downpour, it insisted on the lights of life and activity. It persevered.
The branch’s door slammed open suddenly and a startled Mustang swung his chair back around abruptly. Lieutenant Hawkeye paused for a half-moment in the doorway, then saluted and continued into the room, crossing to one of the cupboards. She clearly hadn’t been expecting to see him here. Her hair was up, but less than tidy. She’d been in a hurry…
“Morning, Lieutenant.” Mustang stood up a bit stiffly, stretching as though he’d been sitting for too long, “You’re in a bit earlier than expected today.”
“And you’re here a bit later than expected, sir.” Hawkeye responded without judgment, then returned to digging through the shelves.
“What’s happened?”
“There was a building collapse right on the edge of the unused part of sector three.”
“Well, this is quite the storm.”
Hawkeye set a pair of large box-shaped flashlights on one of the nearby desks, glancing back to Mustang.
“That’s what the initial reports are blaming. It could just be the storm, but one of our patrols broke up a ring of unmaking cultists in the same building last week.”
Mustang’s eyes narrowed as Hawkeye crossed to a different closet, grabbing a heavy-duty raincoat, then another. He was still missing something about this situation.
‘Well, that certainly doesn’t sound like a coincidence. But what makes it so urgent you’re here at this hour?”
“Because, Lieutenant Colonel, Sir.” Came a voice from the hallway. The potential severity of the situation clicked into place as soon as the goat-boy Asriel stepped reluctantly into the room.
“Chara’s not in her room either…”
---
“Damn it all. She had better not be out here!” Mustang grumbled. He pulled the cowl of his raincoat forwards as the three of them trudged through the downpour. Their flashlights played off the raindrops and the mountains of rubble that reared up in the darkness. The building had been thoroughly demolished, though the collapse didn't seem like an explosion from what they could tell in these conditions. Unfortunately, it didn't seem likely that it had been caused by the current storm either.
“I know I don’t have the burden of being some kind of immortal child that somehow knew all this was coming, but this is foolishly childish!”
"I hadn't intended to notify you until after we had found her, sir." Hawkeye answered calmly, scanning the ruined structure for any sign of life.
Mustang didn't respond to that, continuing further into the rubble.
'Watch your heads in here... we don't know for certain the place is finished falling over all the way." He spoke, though the rainfall was so intense he practically had to yell for either of them to hear.
“I’m sorry sir, she does this sometimes…I was just going to look myself but-” Asriel began, but Hawkeye talked over him.
“Colonel, you said yourself that we didn’t want her wandering too far on her own. There’s still a strong chance the unmaking has agents within our organization, we can’t dismiss anything out of the ordinary.”
Mustang snorted, “She’s a living weapon that seems able to come and go on a whim, Lieutenant. If that girl has even half the power she boasts, I highly doubt that the unmaking has many agents capable of kidnapping her.”
“You’re assuming that Chara was opposing them, sir.”
A thunderclap served to emphasize Hawkeye’s point, and Mustang stared up at the rain with a frown. The Unmaking wasn’t just an external threat, it was true. It got into your head, made you believe that you were out of options. He’d been betrayed by men he’d thought trustworthy over it before. Career soldiers that he would have claimed were far more stable than either of the Dreemurrs.
Damn.
“Asriel,” Mustang turned his flashlight towards the younger Dreemurr, keeping it tilted down so as not to blind the poor boy, “At times, the unmaking has seemed capable of clouding people’s judgment, influencing them, even controlling them. Has Chara-”
“Definitely.” Asriel answered with a frown, “I think she’s been dealing with it for a while now… maybe even since Naussicaa? Chara doesn’t really… talk… about those kinds of things. About what she’s struggling with.”
“And why the hell is she keeping that kind of problem to herself!” Mustang grimaced, “I can hardly be expected to help with issues that I don’t know are happening! Putting on a brave face is all well and good, but only if you can handle it!”
Hawkeye was watching Mustang as he spoke, her face impassive. She started, her flashlight whirling back out into the rain. Chara was standing there in the midst of the rubble, hair plastered down by the rain and eyes glowing red enough to cut through the darkness and the rain.
“Are you implying I can’t handle it, Roy?”
Mustang turned to face her, his frown deepening. Hawkeye took a half step in front Of Asriel, her free hand dropping closer to her holster. The Dreemurr girl stood at a distance from them and made no move to get closer. An eager, almost hungry smile spread itself across her face.
It wasn’t hyperbole. It wasn’t dramatization. Mustang stumbled about dazedly as the ground flung itself upwards in massive boulders. The rock chunks tearing in twain with air-rending crashes, stratifying into smaller specks as they stretched into the sky. He fell to one knee as solid earth pitched underneath him. He stared up in slack-jawed horror as the very sky itself seemed to split apart, the blackness of cold space eager to rush into the opening. It would be only seconds before there was nothing left now. Mustang wanted to scream, but by that point the air was already gone. He breathed in the void of space, staring up at two immense, cold, red eyes.
Mustang jolted awake with a clap of thunder. Rain was pounding the window outside the branch office. Mustang pushed himself up from his desk with a startled bleariness, fishing in his uniform for his silver pocket watch. Three in the morning. Had it been supposed to rain tonight? Mustang rubbed a hand across his face then yawned. He turned his chair to look out the window. It really was pouring down out there. Markov never truly slept. Even here in the deep night, and amidst a torrential downpour, it insisted on the lights of life and activity. It persevered.
The branch’s door slammed open suddenly and a startled Mustang swung his chair back around abruptly. Lieutenant Hawkeye paused for a half-moment in the doorway, then saluted and continued into the room, crossing to one of the cupboards. She clearly hadn’t been expecting to see him here. Her hair was up, but less than tidy. She’d been in a hurry…
“Morning, Lieutenant.” Mustang stood up a bit stiffly, stretching as though he’d been sitting for too long, “You’re in a bit earlier than expected today.”
“And you’re here a bit later than expected, sir.” Hawkeye responded without judgment, then returned to digging through the shelves.
“What’s happened?”
“There was a building collapse right on the edge of the unused part of sector three.”
“Well, this is quite the storm.”
Hawkeye set a pair of large box-shaped flashlights on one of the nearby desks, glancing back to Mustang.
“That’s what the initial reports are blaming. It could just be the storm, but one of our patrols broke up a ring of unmaking cultists in the same building last week.”
Mustang’s eyes narrowed as Hawkeye crossed to a different closet, grabbing a heavy-duty raincoat, then another. He was still missing something about this situation.
‘Well, that certainly doesn’t sound like a coincidence. But what makes it so urgent you’re here at this hour?”
“Because, Lieutenant Colonel, Sir.” Came a voice from the hallway. The potential severity of the situation clicked into place as soon as the goat-boy Asriel stepped reluctantly into the room.
“Chara’s not in her room either…”
---
“Damn it all. She had better not be out here!” Mustang grumbled. He pulled the cowl of his raincoat forwards as the three of them trudged through the downpour. Their flashlights played off the raindrops and the mountains of rubble that reared up in the darkness. The building had been thoroughly demolished, though the collapse didn't seem like an explosion from what they could tell in these conditions. Unfortunately, it didn't seem likely that it had been caused by the current storm either.
“I know I don’t have the burden of being some kind of immortal child that somehow knew all this was coming, but this is foolishly childish!”
"I hadn't intended to notify you until after we had found her, sir." Hawkeye answered calmly, scanning the ruined structure for any sign of life.
Mustang didn't respond to that, continuing further into the rubble.
'Watch your heads in here... we don't know for certain the place is finished falling over all the way." He spoke, though the rainfall was so intense he practically had to yell for either of them to hear.
“I’m sorry sir, she does this sometimes…I was just going to look myself but-” Asriel began, but Hawkeye talked over him.
“Colonel, you said yourself that we didn’t want her wandering too far on her own. There’s still a strong chance the unmaking has agents within our organization, we can’t dismiss anything out of the ordinary.”
Mustang snorted, “She’s a living weapon that seems able to come and go on a whim, Lieutenant. If that girl has even half the power she boasts, I highly doubt that the unmaking has many agents capable of kidnapping her.”
“You’re assuming that Chara was opposing them, sir.”
A thunderclap served to emphasize Hawkeye’s point, and Mustang stared up at the rain with a frown. The Unmaking wasn’t just an external threat, it was true. It got into your head, made you believe that you were out of options. He’d been betrayed by men he’d thought trustworthy over it before. Career soldiers that he would have claimed were far more stable than either of the Dreemurrs.
Damn.
“Asriel,” Mustang turned his flashlight towards the younger Dreemurr, keeping it tilted down so as not to blind the poor boy, “At times, the unmaking has seemed capable of clouding people’s judgment, influencing them, even controlling them. Has Chara-”
“Definitely.” Asriel answered with a frown, “I think she’s been dealing with it for a while now… maybe even since Naussicaa? Chara doesn’t really… talk… about those kinds of things. About what she’s struggling with.”
“And why the hell is she keeping that kind of problem to herself!” Mustang grimaced, “I can hardly be expected to help with issues that I don’t know are happening! Putting on a brave face is all well and good, but only if you can handle it!”
Hawkeye was watching Mustang as he spoke, her face impassive. She started, her flashlight whirling back out into the rain. Chara was standing there in the midst of the rubble, hair plastered down by the rain and eyes glowing red enough to cut through the darkness and the rain.
“Are you implying I can’t handle it, Roy?”
Mustang turned to face her, his frown deepening. Hawkeye took a half step in front Of Asriel, her free hand dropping closer to her holster. The Dreemurr girl stood at a distance from them and made no move to get closer. An eager, almost hungry smile spread itself across her face.