Chapter Text
It had happened quickly. So quickly that Edward missed the drawing of the gun. All he heard was the terrified shout of the victim before it was too late. A man dressed in a trenchcoat straight out of those second-rate mystery novels stood with another man in his grasp, pressing the muzzle of the gun to his head.
There was a reason why the military didn't send its state alchemists to negotiate hostage situations. Things had a tendency to get messy fast and all it took was one glance at that silver pocket watch until bang, the hostage was dead.
It was much safer to send lower ranking officers or even simple soldiers. Protocol dictated that anyone with a rank of major or above should monitor the situation from afar and, if needed (people usually lost the nerve before any serious damage could take place), call for assistance.
Ed couldn't just sit back and do nothing, however. Not when the hostage had already captivated him with his pleading eyes, asking for someone - anyone - to save him. The Fullmetal Alchemist discreetly made his way forward, toeing past the frozen citizens in the street.
A muted clanking sound from behind him assured Ed that his brother was backing him up, preparing a transmutation circle while he entered the situation with a more direct approach.
Keeping his eyes on the pair, he noticed the criminal lean down and whisper something in his hostage's ear. He was too far away to hear what had been said, but it was obviously a threat of some kind because the other man shivered, skin going white with fear.
The hostage shakily nodded his consent with something and the two adjusted their positioning, rearranging themselves so that the one with the gun could hold the other's neck in his grasp and the other had his hands free. They began to shift down to the ground, the gun never leaving it's spot at the man's head.
Now that he was out of the line on sight, Ed readied his hands to clap, planning on trapping the criminal in the ground, when a civilian sprung into action.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Edward clenched his fists in frustration. The speaker's voice was just to the left of him, which meant Mr Trenchcoat's attention would be caught in this particular area.
It was a good thing that he wasn't wearing his red coat, because if he was, even if the man was one of those people who thought his brother was the famed "Fullmetal Alchemist," he could probably connect enough dots to realize he was - in some way, shape, or form - connected to the military. As it was, though, trenchcoat villain's gaze didn't even catch on his person as they sifted through the crowd in search of the offender.
"Who said that?" a gruff voice questioned. The gun started to drift away from the prisoner's head and dammit, if the other guy could have just been ten more feet away from him!
"It's me." The civilian's voice was louder, closer this time. Way closer. It startled Ed out of his singular focus and forced him to look at the other out of his own curiosity.
This man was tall, maybe taller than Major Armstrong, but had a rather sinewy build. Dark hair fell out over his eyes casting a shadow onto the sickly pale pallor of his skin, further displaying hollowed out bones. The combination made him look like some freakish ghoul depicted in one of the stone statues of Liore. What was even more disturbing was the confident tone he had when he spoke. He wasn't scared of the criminal at all.
Is this some sort of undercover agent?
Ed searched the streets for Al, trying to get some sort of reassurance, but the suit of armor was lost to the gathering crowd.
"Ahh, I didn't expect to see you so soon." The criminal was talking again, but what he just implied… Ed hoped he was wrong. The wide grin on his face was convincing him otherwise.
"You weren't supposed to. You were supposed to wait until I got done with my job. Until I gave you the go ahead."
So they were working together. Ed started edging away.
"Hold on," the guy said, speaking directly to him. A tight grip caught onto his forearm, halting his momentum. "The military is probably already onto us, no thanks to this dumbass over here, but I'm willing to bet that a kid playing hero and reporting us will just add to our problems. Besides, two hostages is better than one."
A second gun was added to the mix, only this time it was pressed against him.
"'Kay, let's head out." In a louder, much more threatening voice, he said, "And if anyone wants to play hero and interfere…" The safety of the gun clicked off. "Well, this one gets shot."
Ed didn't react as a normal person probably should have. That being, that he didn't react at all.
He didn't have any doubts as to whether or not he could take the guy out; it was a definitive win on his part. The problem was that by acting on his own behalf, he'd be jeopardizing the safety of the other hostage.
As long as his brother managed to create a distraction from afar, he'd be able to escape and free the hostage without harm.
But that raises the question, what the hell was Al doing?
As if answering his thoughts, a large flash of light followed by the unmistakable alchemical energy pulsed from a few yards away. The first criminal, already having the gun loose in his hands after confronting his partner, dropped the weapon altogether as he was encased in a solid stone hand.
The hostage quickly scrambled up and took his leave.
Following his brother's lead, Ed clapped and transmuted his automail arm into a blade, head-butting his captor and escaping his grip. The pale man stepped back in pain, clenching his hand to his face. Ed went in for a strike, narrowly missing.
"Why you little-" He was cut off by a solid hit on his side, sending him tumbling to the floor, gun sprawling from his hands.
"Don't call me short!"
Ed was just about to finish the fight off by knocking the guy out when another, much less stable, alchemic flash made itself known. The trenchcoat man had freed himself from Al's trap.
So they were alchemists then. This one was, at least.
And he was heading straight towards him.
"Al, care to help your brother out?" It wasn't like he couldn't do it on his own, but he'd prefer to keep city damage to a minimum. He was already going to get in trouble with Mustang for his engagement with the criminals in the first place.
Instead of an answer, all he got was distant clanging and the sound of crumbling rock. It was too late to worry about property damage now, he sighed, the environment was already a victim in this.
Edward watched the trenchcoat man sprint closer and took a step forward himself, baiting the guy only to lean backwards at the last moment. He couldn't contain his gleeful smile when the guy flew over him.
"Not exactly so tough, now are you? Attempting to kidnap someone in broad daylight? Bad decision." He bent down and clapped, blindings of stone wrapping around the alchemist's hands to prevent him from transmuting.
Bang!
A gun went off in the distance. Ed froze, astonished at the fact that he wasn't feeling any pain. He poked and prodded at his black jacket for any wet spots indicating blood. Nothing.
Turning around to where he heard the shot go off, he saw Lieutenant Hawkeye holding a smoking pistol in her grip. Behind her was the colonel and few soldiers he only recognized by face.
"Are you good, Alphonse?" she questioned. She must have shot the guy that was fighting him.
"I'm fine, Lieutenant. Thank you."
Oh, he definitely wasn't going to get out of property damage on this one. "Lieutenant Hawkeye. Colonel Mustang. What are you doing here?"
It was Mustang who spoke. "Edward, aren't you supposed to be in Yous Well?"
Well, he was… but the mission was a complete bust. Even if you didn't factor in the obviously fake lead on the philosopher's stone, the town had everything covered already. He told his CO as much.
"I understand, but shouldn't you be- dammit, Fullmetal, he's getting away!" The Flame Colonel spared no time as he took off into the streets at a breakneck pace, Ed following closely at his heels.
"Why would you turn your back to him when you knew he wasn't secure?"
"You startled me!"
"You shouldn't have- argh! We don't have time for this. Where the hell did he go?"
They slowed to a stop in an empty alleyway, filling it with their panting breaths. The escapee was nowhere in sight.
"I don't see him anywhere." Ed chimed in.
"Yeah, well with all the noise we're making, I doubt he'd want to stick around." That earned the man a flat glare. It wasn't his fault that Mustang insisted on chewing him out.
"So," he said in a much lower voice, "do continue to search or regroup with the team?"
"We search. Together. I don't want you running into this guy alone."
That miffed Ed a little. He wasn't much of a challenge; in other words, apprehending the dude would be a piece of cake. "What, you worried about me? I had him earlier, just so you know. If you hadn't interrupted me, then he would already be in cuffs by now."
"We weren't interrupting you. You were supposed to be in East City giving your report, not gallivanting out in the streets picking fights with people you aren't even allowed to make contact with. And if you must know, I'm rather more worried about the inevitable paperwork that would find its way into my desk if I let you go after this guy solo. Who knows how much it'll cost in damage fees."
Of course, the guy had to be a total bastard about this too. God (and he only meant this as the expression) knows that he didn't get enough of a power trip exercising his ego in the office.
"Ha ha, very funny. But if the guy gets away because we wasted all of our time talking, then I reserve full rights to blame this all on you."
"I'm pretty sure Hawkeye would have an excuse to fire her gun at me then." The man's face became pinched at the thought. "Okay, lets go."
They shut their mouths after that, wary to make a sound in case they alerted their target. It was maybe after fifteen minutes of searching that Ed broke the silence. "By now, I think it's too late to find him. We should have just regrouped earlier."
Mustang tightened his lips in frustration, saying, "With any luck, one of the others will have already found him. Not that either of us are particularly lucky..."
Ed looked up at Mustang, wondering what the man was referencing. "Al's much better at chases than me anyways. He doesn't get tired. He'll probably be a better help than me anyways."
"Maybe, but your brother isn't the one enrolled in the military, now is-" A low rumbling sound could be heard in the distance. "Can you hear that?"
"Yeah - sounded like a car - but I didn't think we were that close to the street anymore…"
A large grin spread across the Colonel's face. "We aren't." He lifted up his hands, adjusting his gloves. "Okay, follow behind me. Quietly. We don't want to alert them to our presence until it's too late."
They neared the edge of a building, creeping their heads around the brick wall. Sure enough, there was a large vehicle ready to drive off. The windows were blacked out by the sunlight, so Ed couldn't see inside, but the people arguing in muted tones were unmistakable.
He readied his hands to clap.
"No!" a harsh whisper ground out. "The light of the transmutation will scare them off."
"Oh come on! They won't be able to react on time."
"This might be the only chance we have to get any information out of them. Chances are, if we catch them and they end up being more than just the run of the mill criminals, then they'll stay tight-lipped until the very end. Right now, they don't know that they're in any danger. I'm moving in closer. Stay here."
Ed knew the logic of that command, but he wanted to listen in on their conversation as well, even though it was for something as silly as satisfying his curiosity. "Fine, but I want to know what's going on as soon as we get back to East City."
Mustang ignored him.
Had the guy they were chasing simply disappeared into the streets, Ed might have thought that this was nothing more than a simple kidnapping attempt, nothing more. But the car was too fancy for anything as petty as a ransom - this dude was totally loaded - and with the guy left behind and the new voice in the car, that makes at least four people in on the crime.
Then, there was a little flashback to where the sickly dude holding him at gunpoint had said he'd already finished his job, whatever that meant. This was definitely an organized crime.
Bringing his attention back to the Colonel, he found that Mustang had moved to a hiding spot behind three grimy old trash cans considerably closer to the running vehicle.
At least they hadn't decided to drive off yet.
Wait. He saw Mustang's back flinch; Ed strained to hear the words, leaning forward unconsciously. "-almost here."
"Taking him long enough."
"Let's just hope that he was successful, Gustav is already going to have our heads as it is."
"Wait. I think I see him."
Ed realized what they were talking about too late as a fist came swinging down onto his head. It didn't knock him out, but it did send him sprawling, a nauseous feeling immediately washing over him.
"Fullmetal!"
He didn't have to look to know that the Colonel sent a large wave of fire at his attacker. The heat washing over him was evidence enough.
"I'm fine," he waved him off, shakily rising to his feet.
A second wave of fire came rushing past his face.
"Damn military, making our lives all the more difficult. Hold on, I'm gonna try something." Ed didn't have to strain to hear them this time; the voice was loud and clear. What was even more clear was the revving of the car's engine, much louder than the steady thrum from earlier.
His eyes widened as the car was suddenly right in front of him and holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, I'm going to die, but a flash of blue blocked his vision right in time.
Mustang held his body protectively over him, hugging Ed close, and moments later there was a jarring impact, sending them crashing into the ground. The Fullmetal Alchemist let out a pained grunt at being landing on, but that was nothing compared to the sheer agony expressed in the Colonel's yell.
Ed dared to look, finding the man lying prone on his legs, unmoving.
"Colonel? Mustang? Colonel Mustang!"
There was no response.
A pair of hands attached themselves to his shoulders and heaved. Ed was dragged, kicking and screaming, out from under Mustang, alchemy forgotten.
"Shit! He's going to alert the whole city! Get the rope!"
Ed wrestled with his captors, but it was a three against one, and he was already at a ground disadvantage in the first place. Soon, he was tightly gagged with a thick rope. They had managed to wrap it around his head, which left tangled knots in his hair and his cries a muffled speak, at best.
That still didn't stop him from attempting to scream.
Ed wriggled on the ground, managing to shake his captors off for a few moments, before they doubled down on him and pinned him with unforgiving force. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an unrecognizable man unfurling rope from a coil and approaching the unconscious colonel.
Mustang still hadn't moved.
He called out from beneath his gag, hoping against hope that the man was just playing dead to jump up and surprise them all.
"Wait a second," Ed heard ghoul-face say, "this one is an alchemist too. Help me find his transmutation circle."
He was flipped over, though not without a struggle. Multiple sets of hands began to tear at his clothes, lifting up his sleeves and untucking his shirt from his trousers. The feeling was violating - despite the fact that they did nothing but check for some nonexistent circle - and left him with shivers down his spine.
"Do you think that maybe it's hidden in the metal arm?" This was the voice of the new guy, the one that hit him behind the head. He tried to profile the rugged face for when he escaped so that he could report him, but with each passing moment, it seemed less and less likely that he could even land
If only he could free his arms...
"That seems like it's the case."
"I'm not that familiar with metal-based alchemy, but I can try to destroy it if you'd like."
Ed's eyes widened. That would leave him defenseless. With no way to use alchemy and with Mustang horribly injured…
He bucked his torso, trying to free himself with new vigor. One of them sat on him to keep him in place. With a grunt, the guy sitting on him said, "Not now. Boss wants alchemists. And this one is one. He'll already be pissed at us for leaving one of our targets, so lets make sure he can try them out right away. We just have to secure the hands real tightly. One of you, pick up the Flame Alchemist. We'll dispose of him somewhere out of state."
That drew a whimper out of Ed. Even though Mustang had taken the brunt of the impact from the crash, he had never thought he was dead. It had only been unconscious. Had they checked already? Were they sure he was dead? They had tied him up so he wasn't dead, right?
His mind was beginning to be overwhelmed as he panicked. He was being kidnapped. He was being kidnapped and his biggest hope of being rescued was possibly dead. Not only that, but what would happen if he did escape? He'd just lost one of the only adults he'd ever trusted.
He'd ever cared about.
How could he just walk down the military halls, serving under some new officer, pretending that he wasn't haunted by the face of the man who'd given him the hope of moving forwards in the first place? How could he ignore that?
No. The bastard wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Ed had felt his breath hot on his shins. He had heard it too. Labored and breathy, sure.
But Mustang was alive.
He twisted his head around, managing to get a glimpse of black hair before it was lifted out of view. At least, wherever they were going, Mustang was going too. They were going out of state. That meant he had about a day, maybe more - if they were trying to disguise their tracks - before anything permanent happened.
If they were just able to escape before then...
A strong grip on his neck halted his thoughts. Ed snapped his head up in a knee-jerk reaction, but a rough hand grabbed a hold of his braid and shoved him back down.
"Easy there, little alchemist," one of them said, "You don't want this to go in wrong."
A small, cold sensation at the back of his neck made his breath catch in his throat. They were going to drug him. They were going to drug him and he would be out cold, possibly for days. Then what would happen to Mustang? Would he wake up in time to get them out of here? Or would he be just as helpless as Ed?
The needle was shoved in.
"First Lieutenant, they've been gone for a very long time. Should we go searching for them?" Alphonse liked to think that his brother could handle himself - and if he couldn't, he had the Colonel - but they'd been gone for over an hour now, and he was starting to get worried.
"I've already sent out Commander Matthews and Officer Evans. We don't want to be missing when they come back."
"I know, but maybe I could just go and help-"
"Absolutely not. You don't have any means of communicating with us, and you know how your brother will react if he comes back to find you missing."
He'd probably storm straight back into the streets looking for him. Not because he doubted Alphonse's abilities, but because he was worried about him picking up another stray cat - 'but brother, they're just so adorable,' 'no, they're not,' - or something of the sort.
Alphonse sighed, the metal sound reverberating throughout the suit of armor. "I guess you're right. Brother would trust me to be able to handle myself." He smartly left out the little tidbit about the cats. "But I just have a bad feeling, and no matter what I think, it won't go away."
Hawkeye moved her watchful stare to him and smiled softly. "I understand that feeling too, Alphonse, but that's just what comes with having someone you love that deeply. No matter where they go, we always want to be there to protect them." Alphonse pretended not to notice the worried glint in her eyes.
Something just wasn't right.
Ed came to consciousness around the same time the rumbling had stopped, though, at first, he had found it hard to process much in his awakened state.
It was dark. He was uncomfortably hot. Why did he feel so sore?
The itchy, biting feeling at his wrist was what truly woke him up. He tried to move his hand to inspect the source of the pain, but only found it tightening further.
Stretching his back to check his bindings presented another problem. It wasn't just his wrists that were tied. His arms were crossed over each other in a x-like shape, secured at the forearms and strapped down to his body with a length of rope that traveled across his stomach.
Because the bastards had something of a rope fetish, his ankles were tied as well, though Ed couldn't feel it thanks to his thick leather boots - not to mention his missing leg. When he pulled, however, he was definitely met with resistance.
Ed was just grateful they hadn't decided to hogtie him.
He stretched his fingers to see if the tips could touch, but he was met with empty air. Dammit, he thought, even flexing his wrists didn't help.
Edward played with the gag in his mouth, now improved with a piece of cloth shoved inside. If he got it out, then maybe he could form some sort of plan with Mustang. Mustang!
Ed turned his inspections outward, looking for the other man in the low-lighting…
There! He could just make out the form of another body in the low-light.
"Mrrrpphh" he tried unsuccessfully, the words not making it out of his throat. Scoffing internally, Ed thrust his legs out, using the momentum to roll his body into the other man's. They collided with a soft thud. Bruises gone unnoticed before had decided to let their protests be known, and Ed cursed through his breath.
"Muurrrrrpphhh!" he tried again, equally as successful as the first. This time, the attempt only left him with a pathetic grunt and dry tongue.
In frustration he kicked out at the body, earning him a quiet moan of discomfort.
That wasn't Mustang. The voice was too high-pitched.
"Would you shut up already? No one's going to want to listen to your pathetic whimpers while we're unpacking."
Ed huffed out an angry breath at this. Where. Was. Mustang.
A shadowed face appeared over him and his neck was splattered with spittle as rambunctious laughter reverberated around him. "Trust me, you won't be kept waiting for long. Boss has got plans for ya. Might as well save your throat the trouble."
Ed squinted his eyes at him, trying to gauge if that was a threat. He thought he saw the hint of a (undoubtedly) mocking smile before the face disappeared again.
"And I was right, waiting's almost over. Let's get you two inside." Ed felt a sharp tugging on his bonds before he was separated from the floor. The world tilted once, no twice, as he was adjusted to be carried more easily. There was a pressing on his stomach and Ed figured he was on the guy's shoulder.
A door was kicked open and artificial light filtered in, blinding Ed for a moment before the truth caught up to him: Mustang wasn't here.
Ed panicked, looking around for any sight of the man or some sort of struggle but only found stacked crates and plain stone walls, no scorch marks visible.
They were talking about killing Mustang, disposing of his body. Was he already too late? Did they already pass the border? Did they kill Mustang and he just slept through it?
Tears came to his eyes at the thought. Ed started blinking rapidly, but could do nothing about it. He felt the other captive's wide-eyed gaze on him, filled with concern, but he couldn't look because he knew he would see it in her eyes, the accusations of your fault, your fault, you were the only one who could save him and he died, it's your fault.
He hiccuped, a small sob making its way past the gag and the vile man focused his attention on him. "Oh? It just now hit you with what's happening? I'm surprised you're so upset, you seemed to have a lot of fight in you when we picked you up. Oh well, I guess this'll make your cooperation easier."
Edward wanted to snarl at him for that. He wanted to bite and chew and rip his arms out. He had just lost the only adult who'd ever understood him. The only adult who was willing to help. Self-serving and convoluted as it was, Mustang offered him a chance to stop his all-encompassing guilt from what he'd done. To move forward.
But he didn't know that. And he wouldn't care. All he saw was that his captive was crying from having his life ripped out from under him. He probably didn't even know who he was. What he could do if he could just free his hands…
Ed knew it was futile - knew it was only going to cause him pain - but he started struggling. He kicked and screamed and headbutted until, despite his restraints, he was able to knock the guy off balance, Ed and the girl tumbling with him.
"You fucking brat!" Their captor had made it back to his feet, clutching his jaw so tightly that he looked like one of those statues in a thinker pose, admittedly more angry, of course.
Ed snorted. Thinker kicked him in the stomach. Gold eyes met dark blue in challenge. He raised his foot to kick again.
"Stop!" Another guy that he hadn't seen before was rushing towards them, raising a clipboard in the air. Ed was curious about what he had to say, but the man switched to Drachman, making all attempts at listening in impossible.
Instead, Ed turned his attention to the girl, still on the ground where they had fallen. She was older than him, that much was obvious. Little bits of her mousy hair were flecked with grey, but not enough to make her older than her mid thirties. The only wrinkles on her face were the marks on her forehead, creased in concern for him.
He had noticed how she hadn't seemed to struggle, even when he did. And her eyes were filled with sadness, not fear. So she had already accepted her fate then. Had she been awake much longer than he had? Had she seen what became of Mustang? Ed couldn't read whether or not she'd seen death. He wasn't that good at people in general. And with the only available body language being the eyes… he was hopeless.
Ed looked down, sighing through his nose. Something, deep inside, told him that his Commanding Officer wouldn't go down without a fight. That his weird sixth sense would wake him up even in sleep and warn him to high-tail it out of here while he could. But he already looked so dead when they got hit by that car…
A shoulder bumped softly into him, halting his thoughts. The girl had rolled over and was now looking over at him again. Ed couldn't tell if she was trying to communicate or somehow sensed his hurt and was trying to comfort him, but he put on as big of a smile as he could muster around the gag, hopefully reassuring her.
When he got out of here, he'd have to bring her as well. Though he'd wreck havoc on this place first.
He couldn't leave without finding out what happened to Mustang.
"-up." The talking, Drachman in language, had now returned to Amestrian, and Ed honed in on the voices.
He was snagged by the ropes on his wrists and hauled over the shoulder of the doctor-looking man. "Up we go." This time, his legs were held tight at the thighs, so his kicking escapade wouldn't be possible again.
He glanced briefly at the girl, who was being manhandled by the other. "Put us down," he wanted to growl, but was only left with garbled gibberish.
The guy laughed, and Ed huffed, a close parallel to earlier events, except this time he wasn't able to lash out at his captor. Though, if he insulted Mustang, Edward would find a way. (He'd find a way, regardless, but he'd make it hurt extra).
They were carried down a set of halls that Ed tried to memorize, but they were so expansive that he found himself unable to think of much else. As if sensing his plan, the man carrying him would twist to chat with his companion, not putting too much of an effort into hindering his observations, but enough to make it a struggle.
There came a point, when the alchemist's chest felt caved in with how hard his shoulder scraped against Ed's ribs, that the two captors separated. Ed looked on in panic at the girl, knowing full well that his eyes were wide in worry. If they separated, he didn't know if he would find her again.
She made eye contact, letting her shoulders fold into a shrug as if to say, "what can you do?", in an attempt to comfort him like he was a child.
To her you are.
Ed felt a sense of humiliation at that, irrational though it was. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People. It was him that was supposed to reassure her. In a useless show of anger, he drove his knees into the man's shoulder, pitifully weak with the lack of leverage. The guy just propped him up a little, causing a new wave of pain to come rushing into his stomach. Edward seethed.
"Almost there," the guy said, and Ed promised himself to make the most undignified of nicknames for each of the men who'd kidnapped him.
The most disturbing part about this was that they weren't even acting like this was a kidnapping! That they didn't just possibly kill a man for being in the wrong place at the wrong time! It was like they were having a friendly afternoon of tea-time and other diplomatic bullshit. Even the guy who'd ended up beating his stomach in had acted all jovially up until the point Ed knocked him over.
Left. Right. Right. Left.
Focusing on the route he would use to escape was the only thing he could do right now. He'd be damned if he messed it up.
After a few more minutes of travel, they made it to a single door, standing alone from all other openings in the hallway.
"This is where you'll be staying," the man said. "I'm sorry about the accommodations, but until we find your transmutation circle, I'm afraid we can't give you a proper room."
He kicked open the door - one that looked like heavyset metal - and brought them into the room. It was padded with a white cloth that looked like it had seen better days.
The man set him down gently on the material and reached over him to remove his gag. "We can't really remove your bindings, at least until we find your circle, but maybe you could speed things up?"
Ed clenched his teeth. If they found out he was the Fullmetal Alchemist would he end up in the same boat as Mustang? Or would the results be even worse?
"There's no way in hell that I'm telling you shit."
The man blinked, a friendly smile adorning his face. "Oh well, I imagined that. But we'll find out eventually. I have to go examine the others now, but I'll be back tomorrow with a proper alchemist. We'll figure you out in no time. Cooperate and we might even let you interact with the others."
There was no, 'we'll let you free,' or 'you won't get hurt,' which would be much more reassuring than "we'll let you interact with the others". Ed didn't know what to make of that.
The doctor soon left, door swinging shut. He heard the bolting of a lock and then Edward found himself in complete darkness.
He was left alone for a very long time.