FicWad

Broken - a Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction




BROKEN
a Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction by Eve
www.livejournal.com/users/array_of_colors
stormofblossoms@gmail.com
Full Metal Alchemist is copyrighted property of Arakawa Hiromu, et al.



The droplets of blood on the sink were the only notes of red in an otherwise washed-out blue bathroom. He idly noticed this as he carefully administered his handkerchief on his injured lips. He knew they would still bleed unless he applied some sort of medication. Right now, however, tending to his lips was not very high on his priority list. And anyway, he had never heard of people bleeding to death just because a well-aimed kick had torn their lips open.

Suddenly, just like that, what had occurred earlier in the afternoon came back with vivid, uncompromising clarity. He had been doing his usual patrolling when he heard faint but suspicious noises.

What are you doing? he had asked angrily, striding into the room. Just what the hell do you think you're doing?

Jolted, the soldiers looked up. Upon recognizing him, a guilty look suffused their faces like a stain. The choked-off sobs from below them tapered into silence.

Good afternoon, sir, one of them managed to mutter.

Stand up, he said curtly. When they merely glanced at each other, he repeated his order. They reluctantly obeyed. He took two steps closer, then stopped. He had anticipated this, but the actual visual input assaulted him like an unexpected smack on the head.

Lying on the floor of the room (which was really a lean-to attached to an old barn they used for keeping prisoners) was a girl in her mid-teens, unmistakably an inhabitant of Ishbal. Her voluminous skirts were bunched up around her waist, while her white undergarment clustered into a snarl around her ankles. Blood and other fluids streaked the inside of her thighs.

He swayed a little, and grabbed the sink to steady himself. There was no strict code of rules on how to interrogate prisoners, and sometimes the heavy pressure of the war bore down too severely on the men on the fields. Also, sometimes, situations could get out of hand. Ugly things happened.

He stared hard at the soldiers, who shifted uncomfortably and did not return his stare. Explain to me what's going on here, he said.

Well, you see, sir, replied the one who had spoken earlier - the spokesperson elected through silent consent. We caught her trying to sneak into our arsenal two days ago. We've been keeping her here, asking her questions, but she wouldn't answer any of them.

So - you think you had to use a little persuasion? Is that it? he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

They exchanged more furtive glances. Yes, sir, we did. But she wouldn't open up, just the same. At the phrase "open up," one of the soldiers snickered before he could suppress it.

With a sick feeling in his stomach he realized that some of the foot soldiers considered the Ishbal people to be slightly less than human. It was their eyes in particular - what normal humans were born with red eyes?

He knelt down. Tell me, who sent you? he asked, reaching out a hand to pull down the girl's skirts and cover her legs.

That was when her foot shot out. It connected squarely with his face. Pain seared the lower half of his face as her heel slammed his lips against his teeth. He staggered back to his feet, covering his mouth. The soldiers started to move forward, but he raised a hand to stop them.

I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you, she said jeeringly, as if she were in a position to make such lofty statements.

He looked at the soldiers. Get out, he said through mashed lips. Get out and don't anyone come near her until my next order. Then he stumbled out of the lean-to, with the soldiers following.

"I heard you had a colorful afternoon."

He whirled around. Kimbley was standing on the now open bathroom door, leaning easily against the jamb. He did not care for the smirk on Kimbley's face.

"Made your dick hard, didn't it, Mustang? That's natural. When people see some humping, they'd want to jump in and have a taste of it. Share the fun."

"Take a hike, Kimbley."

"I'm gone, I'm gone." With an uninterested shrug Kimbley strolled off.

He blew out his breath through his nose. He would see more memorable things in the upcoming days, of that he knew. Would he be able to handle them, and handle them well? He could only hope, and rely on himself.