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When the man who had forsaken his name arrived at the Sewing Life Alchemist’s residence, he found the guards posted at the entrance already knocked out. Flexing his cursed right arm cautiously, he knelt to examine the two guards’ vitals. Still breathing, steady pulses, identical head injuries that appeared to be the cause of their unconsciousness.
Someone had arrived before him—someone not affiliated with the military. They might be here to rescue the Alchemist or finish his job for him, but either way, he must proceed with caution.
The nameless man debated killing the downed guards to ensure they wouldn’t wake up and raise the alarm, but soon decided it was unnecessary. Whoever had done this was no amateur—these guards wouldn’t be waking any time soon.
He made his way to the Sewing Life Alchemist’s makeshift cell, the path clearly indicated by the unconscious guards littering the hallways. The identical wounds on the back of their heads suggested blunt force trauma by the same weapon—it was possible this was the work of multiple people, but unlikely. The guards laid on their backs as if merely asleep—clearly arranged in this manner by the mysterious perpetuator.
They must be quite assured in their abilities, to waste time placing their downed enemies in a more comfortable position.
Up two staircases, a left turn, then a right. Finally, the nameless man approached a doorway. He raised his right arm to reduce the door to dust—but it was unnecessary.
The door to the Sewing Life Alchemist’s prison was already open—and along with the Alchemist and his pet abomination, he found there to be two extra occupants in the room.
These must be the assailants who had taken care of the guards—except that couldn’t be. The boy and the girl were—yes, that was exactly the problem. The assailants were a boy and a girl—children—who couldn’t possibly be skilled enough to take out the guards so uniformly.
But what else could explain their presence in this supposedly secure holding cell? The nameless man’s target sat slumped in his seat, his hands cuffed behind the wooden chair and his feet to the legs of the chair. The Alchemist’s eyes were closed—if the nameless man were to examine the back of his head, he was certain he would find a wound identical to the guards.
The Alchemist’s abomination laid in the laps of the children, who were kneeling on the floor. A silver baton sat next to the boy (blond hair, green eyes, of clear Amestrian descent), while a red-spotted yo-yo rested next to the girl (black hair, blue eyes, of mixed Xingese blood). They were running their hands through the abomination’s fur, as if to provide comfort—though the abomination’s unmoving body suggested it was either unconscious or dead. Both were a comfort at this point of its miserable existence.
The nameless man hesitated, debating how to approach. The Sewing Life Alchemist was of little concern—it was obvious the children cared not for him. But the manner the children were stroking the abomination’s fur implied a familiarity between them—he was loath to come to blows with innocent children, but that was almost a certainty if he were to go forth with his plan to grant the abomination the mercy of death.
His choice was taken from him in the end, when the boy and girl simultaneously raised their heads. It was slightly unsettling, the way they caught his gaze at the exact same moment. But the nameless man was far from the scared little boy who still owned a name, and he met the children’s eyes without fear.
They did not appear upset to find a strange man catching them there. The girl merely raised her eyebrows, her hand in the abomination’s fur stilling.
“You’re the one who has been killing State Alchemists.” she noted calmly.
How did she deduce that? If the nameless man still harbored any delusions that these children were ordinary kids at the wrong place and time, that unimpressed countenance would have firmly dismissed such thoughts.
He inclined his head, allowing, “…I am.”
The boy tilted his head in acknowledgement, his sharp green eyes almost seeming to glow in the dim light. “You’re here for Shou Tucker,” he continued.
“Yes.” the nameless man clasped his hands in front of him and bowed, an Ishvalan salute between equals—for it was clear they were equals in at least martial prowess. “But it appears you beat me to it.”
The girl blinked, “You think—” she laughed slightly, not mocking, “He’s just knocked out. I didn’t kill him.” she paused, “I don’t think it’s necessary to do so, anyway. Shou Tucker isn’t a State Alchemist anymore, and he’ll be spending the rest of his hopefully long and miserable life in prison.”
The nameless man tenses his shoulder. “I would have to disagree, honored equals. The Sewing Life Alchemist’s sins are numerous and severe. It is Ishvala’s Will that he must be punished.”
“Shou Tucker deserves to be punished.” The boy agreed solemnly, his lips curling in distaste. Part of the nameless man’s brain noted his front teeth were unusually sharp. “But a life sentence is worse than death.”
It took effort not to let out disrespectful scoff. “He won’t get a life sentence.”
The girl raised an eyebrow, “How would you know that?”
“Do you think the military would lock up an asset like him?”
The boy paused, tilting his head in consideration. The girl frowned, “…Tucker’s not useful. He isn’t even that great of an alchemist.”
“But he still created that abomination, did he not?”
The boy bared his teeth, “Nina and Alexander aren’t an abomination.” he hisses, “Do not call them that.”
But the girl merely petted her irritated partner’s hand absently, deep in thought. After a moment, she cursed, “Damnit, you’re right.”
She sighed, petting the abomination’s head. “Look, you want to kill Tucker, I get it; he’s a terrible person who deserves to suffer for his sins. A compromise, then, Alchemist Killer—we won’t get in the way of your…job, if you don’t get in the way of mine.”
The nameless man nodded in understanding, “And what is your job?” What made you go through the trouble of breaking into this cell?
The boy gestured at the abomination, “Trying to fix Tucker’s mess. Nina and Alexander deserve to have their separate minds bodies returned.”
He narrowed his eyes. The only way to accomplish such a deed was to… “You are going to use alchemy on that ab—that thing. I cannot allow that.”
The girl gave a small huff of irritation, “I…it’s not alchemy, not really. It’s complicated. Besides, we’re not looking for your approval; we won’t leave Nina and Alexander like this just because a serial killer is squeamish about what might be counted as alchemy.”
The boy narrows his luminescent eyes, “We don’t want to fight you, but we will if we have to.”
The nameless man did not particularly desire a fight with these curious children—no, to call them children would a disservice to their skills. He did not particularly want to fight these curious individuals, but to admit such was not conducive to an effective negotiation.
“Honored equals, you have seen my face,” he says instead, “What assurance do I have that you would not give me up to the military police?”
The girl rolled her eyes, “I knocked out the guards, remember?” she pointed out, “And you know what we look like. We don’t want to be ratted out to the MP any more than you do.”
That was acceptable. The nameless man bowed to the boy and girl again, acknowledging the girl’s implicit terms of mutual destruction. He approached the Sewing Life Alchemist’s unconscious form, and true to their word, the not-children did not attempt to stop him.
They did not twitch as he raised his hand to the Alchemist’s head. A touch, and the Alchemist’s upper body was reduced to a splatter of blood and meat across the wall. The not-children’s eyes were locked onto him all the while, their faces expressionless, not even flinching away from the Alchemist’s gory remains.
The nameless man turned back to them, his mission accomplished. He bowed one final time, “I will take my leave now.” behind his tinted glasses, red eyes darted towards the ab—creature in their laps, “I wish you luck with that creature.”
The not-children nodded, pulling their gazes from him. The last the nameless man saw of those two strange individuals, red light was building in the girl’s palms, while a black void dripped off the boy’s fingers. They had begun their work returning the creature to its original forms.
The nameless man knew of the lightning sparks of alchemy with painful intimacy. Whatever power those two were in possession of, it was indeed not alchemy in any sense.