Most of the mischaracterization Riza suffers from wouldn’t be nearly as popular if people actually understood why she follows Roy and it isn’t just love and loyalty.
One of the main reasons she stays by his side is because she sees herself as the guardian of flame alchemy. She’s trying to make sure of two things: 1. no one ever gets their hands on it again. and 2. the only person who can use it never misuses it again. That’s why she follows him. She has to. She’s watching the weapon she helped create.
And she has to keep him alive not only because he’s the one with the political power (meaning he’s her only real way to make sure the trials happen), but because he has to live long enough to atone for what he did with flame alchemy. The power SHE gave him.
From Riza’s point of view, every crime Mustang commits is hers too. Every time flame alchemy is used to kill that blood is on her hands too. Every person he killed is someone she killed by proxy.
She’s not just guarding him. She’s sharing his guilt. It’s like she’s trying to atone for her own sins, but he has to atone too so she can atone through him.
I think this Hannibal quote fits them really well: “You and I have begun to blur. Every crime of yours feels like one I’m guilty of.” Like yeah she obviously loves him. But reducing their relationship to just that completely flattens what’s actually going on.
Hasta donde sé, eso lo sabemos todos y es por eso que los amamos tanto. Se aman, pero su amor no parte de eso, parte de una culpa compartida. Riza saber que su única vía para expiarse es por medio de Mustang, porque el tiene el mismo objetivo y porque ella le dio el arma de destrucción. Ella siente que él es su responsabilidad y en parte por eso es que entró al ejército.
The birds twitter in the sky as the early morning sun stirs the city to life. Chimneys burst to life with clouds of smoke as breakfasts are made, and window shutters open to let in the life of a new day.
Alphonse is laying in bed, snug in his covers, his blanket bundled up close to his face to keep himself warm. As a cloud moves through the sky, the sun peeks out from behind the little white tuft, and a golden ray falls through the window onto Al's face. Gently he stirs, his eyes dark with sleepiness. He stares out into the darkness of the room, silently... and he thinks to himself...
...Sometimes... when I wake up... I forget where I am... and I wonder... 'Why am I here?' ...
He sits up in bed, rubbing his head to unmat his matted hair and get the sore feeling off of his scalp. Laying in the bed that sits beside his own is Edward, fast asleep and unaware of the world as he noisily snores, his blanket half kicked off the bed. Groggily, Al looks out the window, still thinking...
...And then I remember... This is where we live now... But still I wonder... is it home?
The year is 1925.
*
The university hums with life as students move about its grounds, people moving in and out of buildings, some just getting ready to start the day, others having been there for hours already, even though it was just now morning.
Ed and Al are walking the grounds, heading for the Science building, carrying briefcases with them like proper university staff, when a fellow worker trots up to them.
“Hey Elrics! How are you this morning?”
“Hey, Zimmerman,” Ed acknowledges as their coworker comes up alongside them. “We're all right,” he replies with a bit of a smile, feeling pretty good today.
“Did you hear?” Zimmerman asks. “A researcher in Göttingen is going to be receiving the Nobel Prize!”
Ed gives a short chuckle, “Sounds like I should be working in Göttingen instead of here.”
Zimmerman gives Ed a pat on the back, “Yeah but we like you here. And with you gone, who'll protect Al?” He gives Al a big rub on the head with a big smile. “Why he'll be at the mercy of all those pranksters we call researchers! They'll be rigging his locker full of vinegar and baking soda in no time!”
“I can take care of myself!” Al protests, moving the man's hand away.
Zimmerman laughs, “But you're still so short! Aren't you ever going to be tall like your brother?”
Al laughs, “Ed? Tall? You're taller than he is.”
“Well, you know what I mean.”
“And besides, you should have seen Ed only a few years ago. He-”
“ZIP IT!” Ed threatens, Al trying to stifle a giggle.
“Oof!” Zimmerman bumps into someone, a short man who’s only still on his feet due to his large frame (and rotund girth) stabilizing his footing.
“A-harumph!” the old man protests, his mouth barely visible for all his bushy white whiskers. “I say there!” He readjusts his glasses. “Watch where you're going!”
Zimmerman wrings his hands apologetically, “Sorry Professor Heidelmann, sir.”
Professor Heidelmann and the little group of professors who follow beside him continue along their way, and Ed can hear Heidelmann talking, his voice slowly fading as the group moves further away: “As I was saying, the philosophies that metaphysics present are often hard for many to comprehend. Yet they fail to see that there are many metaphysical properties already taught to them in their own religions...”
Ed shakes his head with a smile. “I'm glad I'm not in Philosophy department. I don't think I could stand all the talking they do.”
Al watches the professors go as he says to Ed, “I don't know. I kind of like what they have to say. It's interesting sometimes.”
“It's all a bunch of bologna in my opinion.”
Their friend gives a grin, “I think you just don't like people arguing against you. Kind of frustrating when somebody has a point, isn't it.”
Ed sternly looks at his co-worker, “Shouldn't you be at a test tube someplace?”
Zimmerman grins more, “Y'see? Someone argues with him and he changes the subject.”
Al smiles as well, “That's my brother!”
Ed gently pushes either of them by the head, moving them to the side, “That's it, both of you. Get to your labs and don't come out until I say so.”
In unison, both Al and Zimmerman say with a mock-child tone, “Yes Mr. Elric,” and all three of them go their separate ways.
*
Al works in the Pharmaceutical division of the university, and though he enjoys working here, it is only a part-time job as he’s currently attending public school in addition to being an employee of the university (a special arrangement worked out by the university president and a principal who’s a friend of his). It’s a balancing act between showing up to work on time and finding the time to do his homework. With a mortar and pestle, he takes a few chunks of minerals and puts them into the bowl, giving them a good grind to mix them together into a fine powder, seeing what miracle cures (if any) he can concoct in the lab.
Ed works combining chemistry with machinery in the Chemical Technology department. The alchemist in Ed hasn't died - far from it. He still loves pulling things apart (though his colleagues certainly don't appreciate it when he tears down their hard work. But he always promises to put it back together, usually with better results). The distinct smell of a science lab mixes with that of an auto garage, and the sounds of clinking beaker glasses mix with the metal 'ting' of wrenches as the scientists keep busy with their work.
Always, though, Ed keeps his ears open for that key word – uranium. He’s looked into it: in this world, that element was discovered (or at least recognized) over a hundred years ago and had since then led to the discovery of radioactivity. But so far, nowhere, either in the university or elsewhere, had there been talk of using radioactive elements, uranium or otherwise, for weaponry. For better or worse, the trail had run cold.
Maybe we’re lucky, Ed thinks to himself as he absent-mindedly screws some machinery together. Maybe the bomb was on a ship and the ship sank someplace, and now it’s at the bottom of the sea…
But wishful thinking doesn’t lead to results he knows.
Huskisson is still out there someplace. He furrows his brow with determination. If we can find him – we can find that bomb.
But much like news on the bomb, so far, the name ‘Huskisson’ had never been uttered by anyone on university grounds. Neither could Ed nor Al ever find any records of the man. It was if he were nothing more than a ghost.
Ed gives a cruel laugh, Maybe he was on the ship that sank… One can only hope.
*
Midday comes, and in rolling waves, hunger seems to strike everyone on campus as lunchtime rolls around. Some decide to eat off-campus, hitting one of several cafés or restaurants in the area. Others still make their way to the dining hall on campus, Ed and Al themselves meeting up their for lunch, Al’s workday having come to an end and his half-day of school getting ready to start.
They walk through the spacious room, each carrying a lunch pail with them (finding it cheaper to bring food from home than buy anything here), and Ed is scanning back and forth, trying to find an open table.
Al has a bit of skip as he walks (unable to escape the fact that he's still a bit of a child) as he excitedly talks: “And they say that with this machine, you can trace electrical signals in people's bodies!”
“Really?” Ed asks, intrigued. “Is that so?”
“Yeah! I mean, I guess it makes sense – the body runs off of electro-chemical energy – but being able to track it! That's so neat!”
“Yeah, that is pretty neat,” Ed responds, half-distracted, eyes still roaming the room. “Boy, it’s crowded in here today. If we don’t find someplace to sit quick, you might just have to take your lunch to school and eat there.”
“Aw,” Al bemoans. “I don’t like eating lunch there. There’s no one to talk to.”
“Come on, Al – I’m sure there are plenty of kids to talk to. You’ve just got to make friends with them is all.”
Al sighs to himself, looking down at the floor.
Groups of students cluster at different tables, all chit-chatting about something or other, professors doing the same. As Ed and Al pass one table, they can hear some professors in a heated discussion:
“I hear in America they're trying to make it illegal to teach Darwin’s theory of evolution.”
“Well they simply can't do that! Why withhold scientific findings?”
“It's not so bad. It's just a theory.”
“GRAVITY is just a theory - and we base practically everything on that!”
Ed shakes his head as he and Al pass the table. “Somebody's always got to be complaining about something,” he says.
Alphonse looks to his brother, “I think that's a shame - governments stopping people from learning.”
“They do it all the time,” Ed tells him, pointing out, “Like the military not telling us about what really happened in Ishbal. If you keep people in the dark, you can lead them to believe whatever you want.”
“Yeah, but you can’t fool them forever,”Al says, giving humanity the benefit of the doubt. “Eventually they’ll figure things out. People are smart”
“A single person is smart,” Ed tells him, “A group of people are stupid. Once you start to lump people together, nobody thinks anymore. All those brains between them and not a one of them in use.”
“You there!” Suddenly a pack of paper is shoved into Edward's face, preventing him from walking as he is startled. “I see you're a smart man! And I see that you hate being lied to! Well my good sir! Than you HAVE to read this! It's so very important!”
Ed brushes the man's hand aside, “I can't even see it! You've got it too close!”
Al looks on curiously, “What is it?”
“The truth, my friends! The truth! We are being lied to! And it must stop! The Jews who control our government are masters in the art of lying, and they're conspiring to destroy the Fatherland!”
Ed moves the man aside and angrily walks on, “Get out of here, you loon!”
The man forces the papers into Al's hands, Al nervous as the man continues, “Here! Take it! Arm yourself with knowledge!” And the man continues on his way, looking for his next convert.
Al looks down at the paper, the title reading Mein Kampf. “My Struggle?” Al asks, perplexed by the papers.
“It's just propaganda, Al,” Ed says to him, still walking on. “That's exactly what I'm talking about. You write down a few fancy words, you pass them out to people, and hope like hell they'll believe it.”
Standing in the shadows, unknown to the boys, is a man... He's at a distance, but not so far that he cannot hear them converse. He keeps an eye on them as they move through the dining hall.
“Who's Adolf Hitler?” Al asks, reading the title page again. “Is he important?”
“Nah,” Ed waves it off. “Probably just some idiot with a type writer. Crazy people like that never turn out to be important.”
When they start to get too far away, the man starts following them, though keeping enough distance between himself and them so as not to be noticed.
Finally finding a table, Ed and Al sit down and begin to pull their food out, Ed grumbling, “That guy shouldn't even be allowed to be passing out those papers on campus.”
“But isn't that the same as keeping knowledge from people?” Al asks.
“Yeah, but this is just a pack of lies here.”
“Well maybe that's how some people feel about that evolution theory.”
“That's different! That's science!”
“Ah-ha!” Al poses with all smugness, “But how do you know it's science? How do you not know that it's all just a conspiracy theory constructed in a secret lab?”
“That's just stupid!” Ed retorts.
Al gives a bit of a laugh. “But it's the same principle,” he says. “Regardless of the material under scrutiny, there's always the chance that the facts can be wrong.”
“Then why call them facts?” Ed protests, mildly miffed.
The mysterious man quietly takes a seat at the table behind them, facing the other way so that they cannot look him in the eyes.
Ed continues, “The point of facts is that they’re indisputable. If you can dispute their validity, then they’re not facts.”
Al argues, “Something can seem totally valid at the time until you get new evidence proving otherwise. Until that new evidence shows itself, then the fact as it stands is the truth.”
Ed raises his voice just the slightest bit, “It’s not the truth if it’s subject to change!”
Al asks, “So then what do you consider the truth, Ed?”
Ed is quiet for a moment, looking down at the table surface. “The truth is… Well it’s…” He hums quietly in his throat, saying, “...I guess I'm still looking for it...”
And the man smiles.
*
The whole of the cityscape is painted with a lovely red hue, the sun lazily sliding down through sky, down towards the horizon to take a well-deserved rest for the night.
Many people have already returned home for the evening, others still remaining at the university, either doing homework or studying, or in the case of professors grading papers and the like. In Ed’s case, he just couldn’t pull himself away from his latest tinkering project, and now as he walks towards the front gates, he stretches with a yawn, then lays his hand in his pocket as he continues walking along, briefcase in hand.
I wonder what Al’s cooking for dinner, he ponders. ‘Course, then again, he should be doing his homework. Darn it! I wish I’d quit getting so distracted with work. I’m the adult here! I’m the one who should be cooking dinner…
But then Ed stops.
Standing down towards the end of the path is a man. He seems familiar – and yet, his presence is strangely… foreboding… ominous almost.
Why’s he just standing there? Ed ponders. Certainly he’s just waiting on someone, a friend perhaps. But if that were the case, then why is this man staring so intently at him?
And now he’s moving! And towards Ed! Ed tries to calm himself, sure that he’s just over-reacting. This is probably just a normal guy doing normal things, not a pick-pocket or anybody dangerous like that…
But as the man grows closer, Edward’s eyes widen as he is transfixed on his face...
Colonel Mustang?
The same dark hair, the same thin eyes, even that same smug smile on his lips – there he is, Roy Mustang, staring him in the face.
No, Edward reminds himself, That’s impossible. The colonel, uh – “general” – couldn’t have crossed over. Clearly this is a doppelganger, this world’s version of Mustang. …Should Ed talk to him??
But before Ed can even make a decision, the man has already stopped in front of him, staring down at him. And Ed’s not sure what it is, but something in his gut is telling him this is a bad idea. Something about this man is... unsettling.
“Edward Elric, I presume?” the man asks.
Ed narrows his eyes a little, his distrust clearly showing. “Who's asking?”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man says, removing his hat with a slight bow. “I'm Roy Mustang.”
“Yeah, I thought so...”
“Hmm?” the man raises an eyebrow. “You've heard of me?”
“I've heard the name,That's all,”Edward quickly recovers.
“I see,” Mustang says, putting his hat back on his head and his hands in his pockets as he continues. “I've seen you here on campus quite often Mr. Elric, and I must say that I'm intrigued by your work.”
“Oh?” Ed asks rather emptily, his expression rock-solid, never budging, even though something deep down tells him to stop talking while he’s ahead, and yet his mouth keeps running, “Are you a professor here?”
“No,” Mustang responds, “Retired captain of the military, actually.”
Edward smirks with an inward scoff, Of course – dog of the military, go figure… Wait, the military? Damn it! Is that what this is about? What does this military want with me?
Mustang continues, “My associates and I are very interested in getting to know you. I thought if you'd please, you and I could have a little chat.”
Ed moves to the side, “No thanks. I've got to be getting home.” And he walks past Mustang, heading for the front gates.
Mustang turns around, watching Edward as he walks away. “Too bad. I thought perhaps you'd be interested to hear what we have.”
Edward stops. Have? Ed slightly turns to face him, “What do you have?”
“A source of great power, Mr. Elric,” Mustang tells him, a sly smile on his face.
Ed resists gritting his teeth. Did the military get their hands on the uranium bomb before we did? Damn! …But then why tell us? And for that matter, how would they even know that me and Al knew about it? Unless—
Ed’s eyes go wide, his pupils constricting.
Unless he’s part of the Thule Society!
Ed can feel the blood leaving his arm and leg, running straight into his chest as his heart beats with trepidation. No! It couldn’t be! Mustang would never – … But this world’s Hughes was a member of the Worker’s Party… who’s not to say that this world’s Mustang has gone down a similar path?
Mustang speaks again, “If you’re interested, I’d be more than willing to talk to you about it.”
Ed is ready to punch him right then and there to get the information out of this guy. But something stops him, he not sure what... Is it... fear?
“I heard you talking today, about how you’re seeking the truth,” Mustang says to him as he starts to walk closer. Edward clasps tightly to his briefcase, ready to strike him with it at a moment’s notice, but he remains steady as Mustang stops but inches away from him, saying, “ ‘Mighty is the Truth, and it shall prevail.’ If you want to know the truth, I suggest we get to know each other.”
Mustang tips his hat politely, that same unnerving smile on his face.
“Perhaps some other time then, Mr. Elric?”
And with that, he walks past, leaving Edward standing there, just the slightest tremble visible on the edges of the briefcase as Edward tries to still his breath…
*
“Really?!” Alphonse exclaims in surprise, he standing in the doorway of the kitchen as they talk. “I never thought we'd actually see him on this side!”
“Yeah, but I wouldn't get your hopes up, Al,” Edward tells him as he strolls across their apartment, laying his coat over a chair. “I plan to avoid him at all costs.”
“What?” Al asks in confusion, coming into the living room to take a seat, having to move their cat, Checkers, aside to do so. The cat mews at Al, Al stroking it while the little furry mass of black and white nuzzles his hand. “I don't understand. Why don't you want to talk to the general?”
“First off, he's not the general,” Ed says to him, his arms crossed. “You know that better than I do. These are two very different Mustangs we're dealing with. And quite frankly, I don't trust this one.”
“But why not?”
Ed looks away, thinking to himself for a moment. Then he says aloud, “Something in my gut tells me he's hiding something from me. He's not being sincere.”
“Wasn't General Mustang always like that?” Al gives a bit of an awkward smile, trying to lighten the mood, but it passes over Ed without fazing him.
“Yeah, but this is different somehow. I can't place it, but... I don't know...”
“But Ed,” Al asks, “How do you even know if this Mustang's trustworthy if you don't even get to know him?”
Ed looks back at his brother, “Don't forget, Al, he's not the same Mustang. Different world, different experiences, remember? Bradley on this side’s not hell-bent on ruling the world as far as I know. And while the Hughes we knew was nice, this world’s Hughes was a real jerk. Hell! I even saw Dante and she was just an actress or something!”
Al scratches his chin for a moment as he looks to the ceiling,pondering, “Wait, old lady Dante or Lyra-Dante?”
Ed is too wrapped in his own thoughts to hear his brother. “All I'm saying is there's a high probability that people on this side of the Gate come out as opposites from our world. Scar blew people to little bits back there, but here all he did was drive a truck and play a guitar.” Ed glances out the window, his gaze concentrated. “No matter how much he annoyed me, I’ve got to admit – Mustang was our best ally. And If I’m right about this world being opposite… then that spells trouble for us.”
Al looks down at Checkers, quietly petting him, the cat none the wiser to his owners’ concerns, and after a quiet moment, Al looks up and smiles, pointing out, “Yes, but in our world, Mustang was neither good nor bad. So maybe this Mustang is neither bad nor good?” He smiles awkwardly with a bit of a half-hearted laugh, hoping his brother will lighten up a little – but Edward only gives him an unamused, partly angry glance, and Al just sighs, returning his attention to the cat.
“Still...” Edward says as he looks at the floor, unable to uncross his arms for his nervousness. “He said he has something... something powerful...”
“Powerful?” Al glances back up. “…What could he have?”
Ed narrows his eyes. “The uranium bomb.”
Al gasps. He jolts forward, scaring Checkers off his lap. “Brother! You don't mean he has it?!”
“He never actually said it. But he's been following us around campus, and who knows for how long. He may have found us simply because we were looking for it.”
Al stands, somewhere between nervous and excited. “Then you have to talk to him! Brother! This is our first lead in a long time! We might actually be able to recover that thing!”
Ed moves his arms in a little tighter, still looking at the floor. “Yeah I know, Al.”
“Then what's stopping you?”
Ed is quiet, lost in a world of thoughts. What was stopping him? Even if this Mustang is a member of the Thule Society, does that really make him that formidable? They’ve already beaten the Thule Society once before… But what if they’re prepared this time? Or maybe this Mustang has a special skill of some kind to take them down?
Ed suddenly flashes back to Colonel Mustang, flames bursting forth from his hands, the fiery light rushing towards him. But he calms himself. Of course not. There's no alchemy like that in this world. He sighs under his breath and thinks, Yeah, the easier way... would be for this Mustang to just pull out a gun and shoot him. Ed sighs aloud with a growl.
“Brother?” Al is quiet, concerned by his brother's silence.
Ed finally moves, heading for his bed. “I'll sleep on it...”
*
Beneath a strong spotlight, Mustang walks out of the darkness and into the glow of the luminous beam. The clothes he wears are not the same as he had when he met Edward earlier this evening. These clothes are more refined - a black suit, a large golden collar hanging about his chest, and soft white gloves upon his hands.
His pupils constrict beneath the harsh lighting, but he closes his eyes as he bows his head, kneeling down.
A voice arises from the darkness. “What news do you bring us, Brother?”
Mustang says to the man in the darkness, “The young man I have found is in fact Edward Elric.”
“The son of Hohenheim of Light?” another voice asks.
“Correct, sir,” Mustang responds.
Yet another voice speaks, “Then it's true then?”
Mustang kneels his head further, “I do not know, Brothers. He hasn't said much yet, but I will pry it out of him.”
The second voice arises, “We must secure the Elric brothers.”
Mustang looks up with a confident smile, “Don't worry. I'm sure that I will be able to persuade Mr. Elric to join us.”
*
The next day, Edward is walking along by himself, still lost in a world of anxious thoughts. He just can't get over what had happened yesterday.
Was that really real? he thinks to himself. The whole experience had been so surreal, seeing Mustang's face after all these years, a face Edward was sure he'd never see again.
And here he was... again.
Standing before Edward not but a few yards away is Mustang, this different Mustang, this unfamiliar Mustang.
Though he looks as though he is relaxed, Ed is ready to strike at any moment, a little more willing this time than last now that he’s feeling prepared. “...What do you want?” Ed very bluntly asks.
Mustang gives a cheery smile, “I thought perhaps you were in better spirits today, now that you've had a full night's rest.”
“I'll have you know I was tossing and turning all night,” Ed instinctively back-sasses. He can't help himself – just seeing that face automatically makes him indignant.
Mustang still smiles though, remaining polite, “I'm sorry to hear that. How would you like a cup of coffee, then? I'm sure that will wake you up. My treat.”
Ed glares at him for a brief moment. Then he closes his eyes, his brows furrowed but his voice nonchalant, “Yeah. Sure.”
*
Sitting in a coffee shop, Ed grumpily, noisily stirs his coffee, the metal spoon ringing out off the sides of the china like an incessant bell. Mustang raises an eyebrow at Ed's quirky (or simply unrefined) behavior, and decides striking up a conversation may be the politest way to ignore it.
“So, I hear you're quite the scientific prodigy, Mr. Elric.”
Ed doesn't seem interested, “Yeah, something like that.”
Mustang nods, pleased, all the meanwhile adding some sugar cubes to his cup. “I'm glad to hear that. Scientific advancement is important in this world. The more we understand, the better our lives will be.”
Ed stops stirring, blurting, “So you're saying that you understand everything, is that it?” Again, Ed can't help but to snip at this Mustang, and he’s beginning to feel a rather bit like an idiot at his inability to hold in his retorts.
“Hmm?” Mustang sits back just slightly. “I never implied anything like that.”
Ed gives an aggravated sigh, “Sorry. When you work at a university, you deal with a lot of know-it-alls...” A bit of angry (albeit comic) darkness hangs about Ed’s eyes, he stirring his spoon faster, “And people who think they can control everything you do and everywhere you go...”
“I see,” Mustang says as he picks up the small pitcher of cream and pours some of it into his coffee. “I didn't know university life was so hard. I'm afraid I came across the exact same thing in the military.”
With a smarmy smile, Ed looks back up at Mustang. “So a captain, huh? What's a-matter? You didn't have what it takes to make colonel?”
Mustang gives a short wry laugh in his throat as he brings his cup near his lips. “No. I'm afraid I'm too kind a gentle soul for the harsh life of the military.”
Yeah, I'll bet... Ed thinks.
“But as I was saying, Mr. Elric, your scientific work is really opening new doors. I'm curious,” Mustang leans in, just ever so slightly, “Where do you get your inspiration? It seems to me that you have an innate sense, as though you're in tune with the universe and how it works - am I correct?”
Ed turns sideways in his seat, closing his eyes and acting disinterested. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Very few people can do what you do. You have a real gift.”
Ed shrugs, “Eh, what can I say? It comes naturally to me.”
“A man like you puts his heart and soul into his work. I suppose that comes naturally, too.” Mustang's already narrow eyes seem to get thinner with intrigue.
Ed looks at him through the corner of his eye, a simmer in the pit of his stomach.
Mustang continues, “Many a man puts his heart and soul into the things he does. It's what gives him purpose in life; helps him understand his place in the grand scheme of things. After all, we are but part of the construction of the Great Architect of the Universe.”
“Huh!” Ed gives a chuckling scoff. “Yeah, like cogs in a machine.”
“What's your philosophy on life?” Mustang asks of him.
Ed sets his spoon on the table as he looks back at Mustang, “I'm not much of a philosophy kind of guy.”
“You've never sat in on any of the philosophy professors at your university?”
“What, you mean a bunch of old men sitting around arguing? I think it's a waste of time. It's all conjecture. There's no proof to anything they're saying.”
Mustang has his glass halfway lifted, eyes closed with a smile, “What's your take on religion then? The Bible is full of proof of God's existence.”
“Wouldn't know,” Ed says, “Never read it.”
“So you're not a religious man then?”
“No sir, I'm a scientist.”
Mustang laughs at Ed's remark. “Witty,” he says with a relieved sigh. “Ah, but to only take one perspective - that's disappointing; especially for someone as broadminded as you. I think since the dawn of time, science and religion have been at odds with each other. On the one hand, science offers cold, hard evidence - but it can all be rather boring. On the other, religion offers hope to its followers, but it can be very disappointing. That's why I like philosophy.” He takes a sip from his cup and sets it back down. “It's a marriage of the two - science and religion working in perfect harmony.”
“Sure doesn't sound like harmony,” Ed chimes distastefully. “All I ever hear out of the Philosophy Department all day is 'yack-yack-yack.' And a lot of them raise their voices, too.”
Mustang hums a chuckle.
Ed faces forwards, arms on table, eyes burning, his voice low and solid, “What's this really about, Mustang?”
Mustang is slightly taken aback by Ed's sudden brashness.
Ed glares at him, a deep seriousness emanating out from those golden eyes, and from them Mustang can sense a fervent determination.
He confidently hums, “Quite the impudent young man, aren't we? All right, I'll get down to business,” Mustang sets his cup down. “I'd like for you to join my brotherhood.”
“Huh?” Now Ed sits back just slightly, though he also now sits up a bit more, having not expected this. “A fraternity?”
“Precisely,” Mustang says to him, laying his hand out onto the table, and Ed looks down to see a ring. He had seen it earlier though hadn’t really noticed it, not consciously anyway. But now Ed looks over its design – a gold band with a blue circle, in its center a gold diamond with a G in the center. Mustang continues, “I am a Freemason.”
“What's that?” Ed asks, looking up from the ring to Mustang.
Mustang laughs, “Really? You've never heard of us?” He gently pulls his hand back, putting it to his chin as he says, “No, I suppose you wouldn't have.”
Ed presses his lips together a bit, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We are men like you who seek the Truth. To each his own. Every man is responsible for shaping his own destiny - but we have the tools to help one do it. You need only learn how to use these tools.”
“I don't get it,” Ed replies, irked, “You bring me in here to join a club? I thought you had something more important to tell me.”
“Normally, we don't recruit people-”
“Then why start now?”
“Let's just say, you're a special case.”
Again the urge to punch this man is rising in Edward, showing itself in his clenched fist sitting on the tabletop. “Special how?”
Mustang continues, “Your talents have drawn our attention, and we think that you would gain a great deal from membership.”
Ed narrows his eyes, “What are you offering? And if you say eternal salvation I'm gonna kick your ass,” he says outright.
Mustang chuckles. “No, Freemasonry makes no such promises. All we offer is the chance to carve out your own path in life, if you are willing to learn, to work hard, and to seek the truth.”
“The truth, huh?” Ed asks. “And what truth are you selling?”
“As I said before, it's up to each individual to decide on his own truth.” Mustang stands, taking his coat off the back of his chair and laying it in the crook of his arm. “And I can see it in your eyes, Edward - that longing to know the Ultimate Truth, the secrets of the Universe. But then again, you already know a little bit about that, don't you?”
Ed now stands too, pounding a fist on the table, the china ringing as it shakes. “Quit jerking me around! Why do you keep saying stuff like that? You don't even know me!”
“Do you know yourself, is the question.”
“Of course I know myself! I know myself a lot better than most people!”
“Then you know it - the energy that surges through your body, the connection between spirit and matter.”
Ed stops for a moment, and listens.
“You know that spiritual energy that lies within all things, and that this energy is the tool that can reshape these things, change them, like magic. But it's not magic, is it? It's science.”
Ed's blood runs cold. He knows this. He knows what Mustang is talking about. But how does Mustang even know what he's talking about?
A moment passes between the two men.
And then Mustang speaks again –
“You know as well as I the visible and the invisible. You asked what Freemasonry has to offer you. My answer to you is, it is a science of the soul. You say you know yourself, Mr. Elric. You know what you are made of. Good. But that's only one part of the journey. Are you willing to break yourself down and rebuild yourself into something new?”
Ed's heart stops. He knows these words. He knows this sequence.
“Come with me, Edward, and I'll show you.”
*
The sun has set and darkness is now falling all around. Edward walks silently behind Mustang, the only sound that of their shoes on the stone sidewalk.
Mustang stops in front of a building, a rather plain-looking building, average, but above its door frame is engraved the same symbol as that on Mustang's ring. He walks up the steps, Edward following, and Mustang knocks on the door.
A small peering hole in the door slides open, a pair of eyes looking out into the darkness. A gruff voice questions, “Who comes here?”
Mustang answers, “One who comes seeking the light.”
Briefly after, the sound of a lock loosening is heard, and the heavy hinges creak as the large door swings inwardly open. Mustang enters, Edward following after, his eyes slowly looking all around, up to the high ceiling to try and take it all in.
Almost mysteriously, the door shuts behind them with a resounding thud, catching Ed by surprise. In the darkness there, he can barely see a man. But Edward's attention is pulled away by a spotlight that comes on above him, a bit blinding so as Ed puts up a hand to shield his eyes.
Standing before him are three men, a bit on the elder side. The one in the middle speaks, “Who are you?”
Edward straightens up, and very calmly answers, “I'm Edward Elric.”
The one on the left asks, “Why have you come here?”
Ed is quiet for a moment as he looks over at Mustang who simply gives him a nod, and then Edward looks back to the men. “I come here seeking the truth.”
And finally, the one on the right asks, “Why do you seek the truth?”
Edward is quiet again... and a moment passes over him, determination in his eyes and voice, “Because I have to. I have to know. I've always sought the truth. And I need it. I need to know.”
The man in the middle gives half a nod, but his bushy old eyebrows are a bit furrowed. “Are there two members of our order who can speak on your behalf and vouch for your loyalty and strength of heart?”
“Two?” Edward asks, suddenly becoming concerned.
Mustang steps forward with a slight bow, “I can vouch, sir. I have full confidence in Mr. Elric.”
The one in the middle speaks again, “And anyone else who supports you, Mr. Elric?”
Ed doesn't know what to say, “Well...”
“I do,” a voice says. Stepping out of the shadows near the entrance is a stocky, rotund man, his bushy white whiskers and eyebrows nearly hiding his glasses.
Ed gives a little gasp of surprise, “Professor Heidelmann?” It was the philosophy professor!
The professor speaks with a nod, “I've seen this young man do great things. Little ever stands in his way. I am sure that he will benefit from membership.”
The man in the middle speaks, convinced, “Very well then. Mr. Elric, if you please. Follow us.” And all three men begin to walk off into the shadows, heading towards and then through some unknown door.
Ed begins to follow after them, Mustang and Professor Heidelmann as well.
The room they enter is lined with cool tile, a few candles on the wall to softly light the space. In the center of this room stands a small altar, on it an open bible, and on top of it, builder's tools - a square and a compass, only they are golden, and laid out ceremoniously to make the diamond emblem as seen above the doorway.
As Edward enters, his eyes drift from the altar beneath the spotlight to something beyond it - yet another door. But then shock grips his system - engraved on the door is a giant eye, staring back at him, mysterious carvings lining the giant doorframe. It looks like the Gate! Yet it is not the same... True, it’s similar – in appearance only, for there is not that same terrible energy emanating out from it. Still, its appearance causes a chill to run right through Ed’s core.
One of the men stops by the altar, motioning a hand gently towards the book. “Before you enter, you may pray to the god of your choice for guidance.”
Insultingly, Edward gives a scoff, hands on his hips. “God? I’ve seen a lot of things in my time, but a god is not one of them.”
The men look a little affronted, the eldest of the three giving an angry glance to Mustang, yet Mustang is as cool and calm as ever, a gentleness about his face. He questions, “If not in a deity, where do you place your faith, Mr. Elric?”
Edward thinks for a moment, staring down at the book and the square and compass... And then he walks forward, kneeling before it, eyes closed... he thinks... and he thinks...
He thinks about the Gate and how life energy passes through it...
He thinks about the Philosopher's Stone and all the lives that were sacrificed to make it for power...
And then... he thinks about his mother... and her kind smile...
Edward whispers, “I know you're still there... Please, watch over me...”
And Mustang smiles.
Edward rises, and the man escorts him to the large doors. Edward stands before it, staring in awe at its massiveness and design. Then suddenly, from behind one of the men puts a blindfold on Ed, spooking him! He feels Mustang close behind him, and Mustang whispers in his ear, “Don't be afraid.”
This only causes Ed to tense up, BEING afraid – but little time does he have to think, for without warning, he is pushed forward.
Ed stumbles a bit, finding his footing, certain he would have run into the door, but there is nothing is there. He stretches his arms out, knowing that the door must be right in front of him, and slowly he begins to walk forward. Yet the further he walks, the quieter and colder things become. Clearly he is in a hallway of some sort…
He wanders around, blindly in the darkness for a moment, unable to find his way. He has to stop for a moment, feeling oddly dizzy, perhaps just because there’s nothing for his eyes to focus on. Nothing but darkness. He aimlessly reaches out towards his left, hoping to find a wall, and lo, he does. He feels its smoothness, its coolness, and he follows it down the long hallway, seemingly forever.
He can sense them. He knows the other men are there. But the unnerving part is he can't hear them. Are they even there at all? Or is he imagining things?
Suddenly the wall ends and Ed almost falls over on himself again. He regains his balance, and he tries to find a new wall, reaching out towards his right, certain there must be one there - but suddenly, someone from the front roughly grabs him by the shoulders, scaring him!
An unknown voice shouts at him, “Master Hiram Abif! Please teach me the secret of Masonry!”
“What?” Ed asks.
He hears Mustang's voice from behind answer, “No. I will not tell you.”
The voice in front says, “Then feel my wrath!” And suddenly Ed gets hit in the head with a stick!
“Ow! Damn it!” Ed yelps, wanting to rub his head, but already he is being ushered along - by who, he doesn't know.
He doesn't get very far until yet another person grabs him by the shoulders, shouting at him, “Master Hiram Abif! Please teach me the secret of Masonry!”
Again, Mustang answers, “No. I will not tell you.”
“You fool!” the man answers, and again, Edward is hit smart across the head with a stick, only bigger and harder this time.
“Ahhh...” Edward winces in pain, sucking in air through his teeth trying not to shout. He can feel his skull throbbing and his head bruising, the sensation of rushing blood flowing to the blows.
Again, one more man comes. His hands are huge, crushing Edward's shoulder. Though he can’t feel the man’s hand on his right shoulder, Ed can certainly feel the weight bearing down on his automail. He can't move as a deep menacing voice shouts at his face, “Master Hiram Abif! Tell me the secret of Masonry or I will kill you!”
Edward frantically thinks, fearing for his sore head, Just tell him the secret! Justtellhimthesecret!
But firmly, Mustang's voice responds one final time, “No. I will never divulge the secret of Masonry.”
Oh shit...
Ed feels a great rush of wind blow upwards past him as the large man before him raises a club! The man shouts, “Then die!”
Ed gasps aloud!
And then... darkness...
...
...Slowly... the world comes back into blurry view... carvings of stars linger on the ceiling above his head, mingling with the stars that still dance in his vision, they beginning to fade away as a silhouette comes into view.
Edward realizes he's laying down... and now someone is standing over him... it's Mustang. But he's different from before. Now he is dressed in fine black clothes, a gold collar about his neck.
Mustang leans forward as everything comes into focus. “Welcome back.”
“Back?” Edward asks, gently sitting up, slightly confused as he sees, oddly, beneath him a soft white linen, flowers and candles about him, as if he were on some sort of funeral altar.
Standing at the foot of the altar are more men, the three elders and Professor Heidelmann amongst them, all of them dressed in the fine black and gold uniforms.
One of them laughs as he says loudly, “Looks like you hit him too hard there, Schmidt!”
They all laugh, the tallest and biggest amongst them giving a hardy laugh.
Edward rubs his head, “What happened?...?!” He is suddenly surprised, looking down at his hand, “Hey! My head doesn't hurt anymore! What did you do?”
Mustang tells, “What you have gone through is the journey of the Master Mason, builder of the House of God. Masons are builders. But we create so much more than just buildings for people to gather in. We build places of hope and of worship, places that are filled with the spirit of Heaven. This is the duty and gift of a Mason. In him lies not only the ability to build matter but to build spirit.”
Ed gives a short smile, amused. He had never thought of a church that way before. But as per usual, Ed can't take anything gracefully or seriously in front of that face, playfully remarking, “I’m serious, Mustang, if you say anything about eternal salvation – ”
Mustang gives a short chuckle. “As I said before, that is not our calling. We are but a humble band of philosophers who practice the crafting of stones.”
Ed stops for a moment, “Philosopher Stone?” He gasps and jolts forward, “You're alchemists!”
“That's right,” Mustang nods, “Though these days we are more speculative than we are actual operative.”
“Wait a minute,” Ed sits back a little, becoming immediately distrusting, “You guys aren't like the Thule Society, are you?”
Mustang gives a bemused “Humph,” in his throat as he looks away, closing his eyes smugly, “We've been keeping a close eye on them. Though they too are interested in the secrets that alchemy holds, they intend to use it to destroy rather than to build. We became especially interested when we’d heard rumors that they had on their side a man going by the name Hohenheim of Light.”
“Oh, so you've heard of him, too, huh?” Ed says as he finally slides off the altar, putting his feet on the floor.
“In this world, Hohenheim was a scientist who lived and died in the 15th century.”
A knot grows in Edward’s throat. “What do you mean this world?”
“We know that you, your father, and your brother all come from the other side of the Gate – the world that the Thule Society likes to call 'Shamballa.' Don't look so worried, Edward – we have no intentions of reopening the Gate. It's our duty to make sure that the secrets of alchemy remain secret – that's the Gate included.”
“So you wanted me to be a Mason…?”
“Because we know if the Thule Society or the Worker's Party ever get their hands on you, they'd force you to use your alchemic knowledge to build weapons for them. Here, you're safe with us.”
Ed gives an unkind smirk, “Safe, huh? How do I not know that you're just like they are?”
“Those fools are nothing more than a political vehicle. They could care less about the welfare of mankind.”
“Is that what you care about?” Edward pries.
“The three most important things to any Freemason are Brotherly Love, Honor, and Wisdom. These are the things a Freemason strives to maintain, not only amongst his fellow Brothers of the Lodge, but amongst any man he comes across. In his hands he holds the power to help others.”
Mustang holds out a hand to the other men of the lodge, showing them to Edward,
“We won't force you to stay, Edward. But know that if you're ever in trouble, we are your Brothers, and we're here to help you.”
Edward surveys the kindly faces before him, taking it all in.
And then Mustang spreads both his arms with an air of gloriousness about him, “And I am the head of this lodge, the Worshipful Master Mustang.”
Ed can't believe his ears. He pauses, only for a moment, before he has to bite his lip to stifle a snicker that finally breaks out into full-blown laughter.
Mustang is confused and semi-appalled at the indignity he's currently suffering. “Wh-what's so funny?”
Ed wipes his eyes of tears of laughter as he calms down, catching his breath. “I'm sorry. It's just that, oh! That title fits your personality so well!”
Mustang is a bit confused, “How would you know my personality? We hardly know one another.”
Edward gives him a grin. “I don't know. I guess we just must have known each other in a past life.”
The meaning of Ed’s words dawn on him, and Mustang returns his grin with a nod.
I've always been captivated by Hawkeye's and Winry's first conversation, mainly the part where Winry asks Hawkeye why she joined the military, though I have to admit I'm a bit biased towards the way the 03 series adapted it.
We all know how it goes, Winry asks Hawkeye if she's ever had to shoot someone before, Hawkeye says yes, and Winry expresses her dislike for soldiers after her parents followed them into the war and died. She's reasonably concerned with Ed and Al becoming involved with the military and meeting the same fate as her parents did years prior.
In response, Hawkeye confesses that she doesn't like being a soldier herself, and she explains to Winry that she became a soldier because there's someone she needs to protect. She goes on to add that she chose this path and wields a gun not simply to keep him safe, but to also support him in reaching his goal.
Without hesitation, she will continue to pull that trigger for his sake until the day he reaches his goal.
Tempting as it is to get into how the 09 series adapted the conversation, it's pretty much the same as the manga, though it disappointingly cuts off Hawkeye's reason for becoming a soldier by having her simply state that she has someone to protect.
Of course, her point still gets across, and her words help Winry find the motivation to support the boys throughout their time in the military.
The 03 series' adaptation of this scene is wildly different, in a good way mind you.
Mere minutes after hearing from Rick and Leo that Mustang, someone she'd grown to trust Ed and Al's well-being with, murdered her parents, Winry decides to head back to Central City with Hawkeye, intent on mingling with the Hugheses family (all the while unaware of Maes's death) and directly confronting Hawkeye on the way there with her newly acquired knowledge.
The conversation (not their first in this version mind you) starts off similarly, with Winry bleeding apprehension into the train car and Hawkeye making an attempt to sound friendly and quell that apprehension. Winry asks if she'd ever shot someone before, and Hawkeye honestly tells her that she had.
However, it diverges once Winry follows up by asking if she knew the Rockbell doctors, and Hawkeye immediately knows. She knows what she originally perceived to be apprehension from Winry is more akin to mistrust, and she knows why Winry asked her of all people about her own parents. We know she knows because her response falls back on addressing the reality that soldiers are often forced to take lives regardless of how little sense it makes to take someone's life.
I especially love Winry's tone here when she asks Hawkeye why she's still in the military when she doesn't agree with the way they operate. She still sounds guarded and bitter, but she's evidently seeking a reason to authenticate this negative opinion she'd suddenly developed of Mustang and Hawkeye, and she expects Hawkeye to give her that authentication with whatever lofty excuse she has for killing in the name of the military.
But, much like the manga/09 versions, Hawkeye explains that she joined to protect someone, and she takes responsibility for her choices.
I'm especially a fan of the question Winry hits her with after that admission: "How can you be certain? What if he isn't worth protecting?"
And Hawkeye's response is perfect, and in character. She pulls the trigger for Mustang's sake and only does so with purpose. She doesn't blindly follow him out of a sense of camaraderie, but because she believes his goal of becoming Fuhrer is worth supporting and that he's worth supporting. However, she will also judge him for his decisions and determine for herself whether or not he's gone astray. She chose this path on her own terms and will either stay with it or leave it on her own terms.
And Winry can't respond, because she gets it.
It's not until she reaches the Hugheses' home and discovers that Maes is dead that she's finally hit with the full brunt of her conflicting emotions.
She's so upset by the revelation of who killed her parents and she wants to lash out at the culprit so badly, but she's left feeling confused and somewhat betrayed by the positive testimonies she's been hearing from the people Mustang is close to. Hawkeye and Maes have done and will continue to do everything in their power to support Mustang because they believe he's a good guy who will work hard to earn his seat at the top, and those two aren't the types to lie about something like that.
And this is why I find the idea of Mustang being the murderer so compelling.
There's nothing inherently wrong with Scar being the murderer in the manga/09 series since it allows for Ed, Al, and Winry to confront their own personal feelings about the Ishvalan War and the scars it left them with. But it's just so easy from a narrative perspective to make an Ishvalan the person the trio has to learn to empathize with.
Mustang is a trusted member of the military, and he has friends and family who are willing to go above and beyond for him. His past crimes will never go ignored, but they don't define him, nor do they control how his future goes, and the people who befriend him have certainly learned to look beyond his past.
Good people can do bad things.
And its often a daunting task trying to make sense of something as simple as that.
I need to talk about Mustang and all the men in Fullmetal alchemist
ok we all know the mangaka is a woman and like one of the best mangaka ever so everyone is so well written but like when you look at these characters there is so much that is show not tell that you honestly don’t notice until you really take a close look at them and it adds a whole new layer to the atory
like we all know Roy Mustang. Womanizing mini skirt loving PTSD filled Riza loving man. Ok take a closer look
his womanizing play boy act is an act, a persona he puts on to become unassuming and make people belive he would never be a threat. It’s honestly a great job he does to make sure no one knows of his plans to become the leader of Amestris.
where did Mustang grow up again? A brothel you say. A brothel that doubles as a spy and intel gathering operation. Where women used their sexuality to make themselves unassuming and unthreatening. Oh you know like Mustang does in the millitary
and this shit is never said out loud. The fact that Roy’s fake womanizing comes from the women who raised him and taught him all his secret trades. And it’s not something that is too touched on. Mustang growing up in a brothel is more of a joke in most of the fandom if anything but god you can see the impact of it on his story and personality in the millitary
También me encanta esto. Más porque es mera fachada, tanto que sus "hermanas" del bar de Madame Christmas saben que Elizabeth es la única y la oficial, aunque sea de manera clandestina.
Also is it me or Roy isn't a big fan of physical contact? With the most obvious exception, i.e. Riza.
It kind of struck me how during his visit to Chris' bar Vanessa runs to him and hugs him, and though he does smile affectionately at her, he does not hug her back. When he sits down, Vanessa leans on him while another girl strokes his shoulder and arm, but he keeps his hands on the counter.
When he dates Madeline for intel, he opens and closes his car's door for her, yet he doesn't bother to touch her to keep up the facade: he doesn't offer her help to get out, doesn't kiss her hand like a gentleman would do.
In the promotional arts, Hughes is always the one squeezing him, which tends to annoy him most of the time. And even when he's blind, Izumi helps him stand and tries to give him some physical comfort, yet he NEVER leans on her for support and he doens't hold her either in any way out of necessity.
jbbartram-illu
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
janainaart
jacobvanloon
gummygunk
yousharknotpass
