Post by Zechariah Stone on Jul 15, 2007 15:11:14 GMT -5
EDIT: Part Two Added! ;D
This is the first part of a story i'm working on. i just finished the first part of it, and i wanted to know if anyone either:
A) liked it so far
B) wanted to be in the next part
C) ...wait, what's C again? i forgot...
Anyways, here it is, the first part of Bushidou: The Way of the Samurai
Enjoy!
Whewt! Believe me, that part was a pain to write, i think it took me a few days... (i'm not very good at typing...)
EDIT: Just finished Part 2. i didn't feel like waiting to see how many people wanted to be in the next part (if any) so i just felt like making another part with me and the characters on the show. just to make this clear: if anyone wants to be in the next part, send me a pm and we can discuss what would the characters do. anyways, without further ado, i bring to you Part 2 of Bushidou, The Way of the Samurai
Mwahahahaha, eet eeesh bootiful ;D me likie
This is the first part of a story i'm working on. i just finished the first part of it, and i wanted to know if anyone either:
A) liked it so far
B) wanted to be in the next part
C) ...wait, what's C again? i forgot...
Anyways, here it is, the first part of Bushidou: The Way of the Samurai
Enjoy!
BUSHIDOU: the way of the samurai
Part One: The Awakening
Zechariah Stone was born into a family of alchemists, scientists capable of transforming the very matter around them. He was a bright boy, and he began learning the art of alchemy when he was only five years old. His parents were considered absolute geniuses of the scientific world, and he was predicted to be just as brilliant as his parents. He quickly mastered the art of fire alchemy a few years afterward, and even though he tried learning new elements of alchemy, it was fire that he seemed drawn to, its power almost intoxicating. He grew in strength by way of his fire alchemy, and thus it became his forte.
He learned the art of swordcrafting from the town blacksmith, and thus forged a powerful claymore out of pure alchemical steel, named Bushidou, a term used in Japan, which means “The Way of the Samurai.” This sword was sealed with alchemical fire, its name carved upon the very blade itself in kanji, a form of Japanese lettering. It was with the sword that he gained power and prestige throughout the land.
But in the end, the sword would lead to the most horrific tragedy of his life.
On the night of Zechariah’s tenth birthday, he was thrown into the fight of his life, one that he would never forget.
* * *
Jonathan Stone stood up as his son ran into the room, a giant grin on his face.
“Hey, daddy! Look at what mommy got me!”
He held up a small horse, made out of blue glass. Jonathan grinned, and kneeled down, putting his hand on Zechariah’s head.
“Yeah, your mother made that with alchemy, so it’s extra special, isn’t it?”
Zechariah beamed at his father and nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh, I really like it, daddy!”
Jonathan laughed and stood up. “What do you say we go thank her? I’m sure she’d like it.”
“Okay then daddy, you can come too!” Zechariah said, sprinting off into the next room.
Jonathan laughed again, and leaned back in his chair. “Someday that kid’s going to be something special, that’s for sure. But not now. He’s not quite ready yet...” He stood up and walked out into the kitchen, where Zechariah had found his mother, Nicole, and was giving her a hug.
“Thanks a lot, mommy. I really love your present!”
His mother laughed, and Jonathan couldn’t help but grin.
“Hey, don’t forget,” she said, “Your daddy helped with it too. Why don’t you give him a hug?”
Zechariah grinned again and ran towards his father at lightspeed. “Thank you, daddy, thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!”
“Ha ha ha, you’re welcome, Zack. Happy birthday.”
Eventually, Zechariah and his parents went to bed after everyone at the party had left, and soon the soft breathing was heard throughout the house as sleep fell on the family. Zechariah laid in his bed, his eyes closed and his head turned towards the glass horse, grinning in his sleep.
A man standing outside the house signaled to another a few yards away from him. “I can hear it,” he whispered. “They’re all asleep, I’m sure of it!”
It took a few minutes, but the men, and four others, managed to break in to the house without raising any alarms of any sort. The leader raised his hand, the palm facing forward, and all of his allies stopped in their tracks. He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and the sound of something bumping against the wall.
“Conceal yourselves!” the man hissed quietly, even as he took cover behind the couch in the living room. He drew his dagger just in case and prepared to attack.
Jonathan walked down the stairs into the living room holding a large baseball bat, his wife by his side. “Hello?” he called into the room, “Who’s there? I know that you’re here, so don’t bother hiding. What are you here for?”
The leader of the group walked out with his hands in the air, his dagger hidden behind him. “We don’t want to hurt you. We just want the sword.”
Jonathan paused for a second, and then stared at the man. “If you think that I’m going to let you steal my son’s sword, you’ve got another thing coming. That sword is one of the only things that he holds dear, second only to us. If you want to steal that sword, feel free.” Jonathan readied the bat, holding it before him. “But you’ll have to get through us first.”
Zechariah woke up late in the night, and as he listened, he heard a light groan, and the sound of something hitting the floor. Picking up his sword just in case, he slowly crept down the hall, careful not to make a sound in case there was anything trying to hurt him. “M-Mommy? Daddy?” he said quietly. “Is anything w-wrong?”
As he walked down the hall, he heard another soft thud as something else hit the ground. He was left standing in the hallway, clinging to the walls, his heart pounding. Then, he heard a voice that sent shivers rolling down his back.
“Hey, kid. Ready to die?”
Zechariah’s head slowly turned to see a man’s face staring at him with a bloodthirsty grin. The man raised a knife, its blade soaked with fresh blood. With a scream, Zechariah ran past the man into the living room, hoping to get away from him long enough for his parents to come save him. What he saw only made him scream again.
His parents were both lying in the middle of the room, dead. His father’s face was a mask of confusion and surprise, his broken bat still clutched in his hands. His mother’s eyes were fogged over, and the blood seeping from the bullet wound in her forehead had just begun to dry. As Zechariah stared at the grisly scene, his hands fell limp, and then tightened up suddenly, balling into fists. His face, once filled with tears and sadness, was overcome by rage at the murderers. His whole body shaking, he began to whimper.
“Hey, boss, let’s just kill the kid, take his sword, and get out of here. I could’ve sworn I’d seen the lady calling the cops before I shot her. One more victim won’t make much of a difference, he’ll probably end up killing himself anyway.” The murderer began to say more, but was cut short by the flaming blade protruding from his throat. Zechariah pulled the blade out of the back of his neck, and the man attempted to cry out, failed, and collapsed to the ground, dead. Zechariah stared at the leader with rage in his eyes, and the fire sheathing the blade grew brighter still.
“You... You killed my mom and dad... Rrrrgh, it! I’ll slaughter you!!!” This last sentence was almost screamed as Zechariah ran towards one of the men. He barely hit the ground before he was dead. Another man was quicker. He raised his gun, a powerful Desert Eagle. The loading mechanism clicked in his hand.
“Hey, kid, calm down and I won’t have to kill you. Just put down the sword, and walk towards me, your hands in the air. Got it?” he didn’t even have a chance to pull the trigger before Zechariah had appeared before him and sliced his right leg off at the kneecap. Then the man died from the next blow, this time to his head.
The third man ran around the corner and hid underneath Zechariah’s bed. As he was mumbling to himself, he saw feet appear at the end of the bed. Whimpering softly, he curled up, until the leader’s head came into view by his feet as he crouched down. Sighing with relief, he got out from under the bed.
And screamed as he noticed the blade erupting through the other man’s chest.
The last murderer alive ran away from the house, off into the night. While he was still within hearing range, he heard the final man crying out before he finally died. Shivers running down the man’s spine, he ripped off the cloth covering his face. He had a pointed jaw, and his teeth seemed a bit sharp for an average human. There was a large tattoo on his forehead of a winged snake circling around a hexagram. This tattoo was actually that of a Homunculus, a powerful creature that was created by alchemy. This one was a homunculus unknown to all but a select few, and he usually went by either the name Ricky Jonas or Hatred. He was able to grow blades out of his back arms, legs, and pretty much everywhere else. He had actually orchestrated the entire attack because if he had gotten his hands on that sword, his power would be unrivaled.
“Hmmm, that little kid is something else... I’ll have to try something else next time...”
Zechariah pulled his sword out of the last man’s head in a spurt of blood, and, hearing a clatter outside the house, he ran to a window, where he saw Hatred escaping from him. Knowing that his parents would never rest in peace until he had killed every last one of their murderers, he got together his things, put on clothes, and prepared to leave. As he walked past his father’s study, he noticed something shining in the corner of his eye. Curious, walked in, and saw the long kido broadsword his father used when they sparred. He took the blade in to remind him of his parents, and also took the two handguns on the wall next to it. Finally ready, he set out to hunt down the final killer.
* * *
5 Years Later
“Alright, then, that’ll be five bucks.”
Zechariah handed the money to the vendor and quickly grabbed the loaf of bread with a hungry look in his eyes. “Sweet, thanks, mister.”
“Haha, you’re welcome, just don’t eat it all at- WHAT THE...?”
Zechariah rubbed his mouth on his arm, and patted his stomach. In just a few seconds, he had eaten a whole loaf of bread. Grinning, he said to the man, “Hey, that was great- got any sourdough?”
With a small whimper the man collapsed in a heap on the ground behind the counter. Zechariah laughed, and then walked around the counter, looking at the stacks of fresh bread. “Hmmm, uh... Oh! There’s some!” dropping five more dollars on the man’s chest as he was lying on the floor he walked away, but not before adding, “Thanks again mister, your bread is great.”
Zechariah gave the man one more look before stepping out into the bustling Central city.
End Part 1
Part One: The Awakening
Zechariah Stone was born into a family of alchemists, scientists capable of transforming the very matter around them. He was a bright boy, and he began learning the art of alchemy when he was only five years old. His parents were considered absolute geniuses of the scientific world, and he was predicted to be just as brilliant as his parents. He quickly mastered the art of fire alchemy a few years afterward, and even though he tried learning new elements of alchemy, it was fire that he seemed drawn to, its power almost intoxicating. He grew in strength by way of his fire alchemy, and thus it became his forte.
He learned the art of swordcrafting from the town blacksmith, and thus forged a powerful claymore out of pure alchemical steel, named Bushidou, a term used in Japan, which means “The Way of the Samurai.” This sword was sealed with alchemical fire, its name carved upon the very blade itself in kanji, a form of Japanese lettering. It was with the sword that he gained power and prestige throughout the land.
But in the end, the sword would lead to the most horrific tragedy of his life.
On the night of Zechariah’s tenth birthday, he was thrown into the fight of his life, one that he would never forget.
* * *
Jonathan Stone stood up as his son ran into the room, a giant grin on his face.
“Hey, daddy! Look at what mommy got me!”
He held up a small horse, made out of blue glass. Jonathan grinned, and kneeled down, putting his hand on Zechariah’s head.
“Yeah, your mother made that with alchemy, so it’s extra special, isn’t it?”
Zechariah beamed at his father and nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh, I really like it, daddy!”
Jonathan laughed and stood up. “What do you say we go thank her? I’m sure she’d like it.”
“Okay then daddy, you can come too!” Zechariah said, sprinting off into the next room.
Jonathan laughed again, and leaned back in his chair. “Someday that kid’s going to be something special, that’s for sure. But not now. He’s not quite ready yet...” He stood up and walked out into the kitchen, where Zechariah had found his mother, Nicole, and was giving her a hug.
“Thanks a lot, mommy. I really love your present!”
His mother laughed, and Jonathan couldn’t help but grin.
“Hey, don’t forget,” she said, “Your daddy helped with it too. Why don’t you give him a hug?”
Zechariah grinned again and ran towards his father at lightspeed. “Thank you, daddy, thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!”
“Ha ha ha, you’re welcome, Zack. Happy birthday.”
Eventually, Zechariah and his parents went to bed after everyone at the party had left, and soon the soft breathing was heard throughout the house as sleep fell on the family. Zechariah laid in his bed, his eyes closed and his head turned towards the glass horse, grinning in his sleep.
A man standing outside the house signaled to another a few yards away from him. “I can hear it,” he whispered. “They’re all asleep, I’m sure of it!”
It took a few minutes, but the men, and four others, managed to break in to the house without raising any alarms of any sort. The leader raised his hand, the palm facing forward, and all of his allies stopped in their tracks. He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and the sound of something bumping against the wall.
“Conceal yourselves!” the man hissed quietly, even as he took cover behind the couch in the living room. He drew his dagger just in case and prepared to attack.
Jonathan walked down the stairs into the living room holding a large baseball bat, his wife by his side. “Hello?” he called into the room, “Who’s there? I know that you’re here, so don’t bother hiding. What are you here for?”
The leader of the group walked out with his hands in the air, his dagger hidden behind him. “We don’t want to hurt you. We just want the sword.”
Jonathan paused for a second, and then stared at the man. “If you think that I’m going to let you steal my son’s sword, you’ve got another thing coming. That sword is one of the only things that he holds dear, second only to us. If you want to steal that sword, feel free.” Jonathan readied the bat, holding it before him. “But you’ll have to get through us first.”
Zechariah woke up late in the night, and as he listened, he heard a light groan, and the sound of something hitting the floor. Picking up his sword just in case, he slowly crept down the hall, careful not to make a sound in case there was anything trying to hurt him. “M-Mommy? Daddy?” he said quietly. “Is anything w-wrong?”
As he walked down the hall, he heard another soft thud as something else hit the ground. He was left standing in the hallway, clinging to the walls, his heart pounding. Then, he heard a voice that sent shivers rolling down his back.
“Hey, kid. Ready to die?”
Zechariah’s head slowly turned to see a man’s face staring at him with a bloodthirsty grin. The man raised a knife, its blade soaked with fresh blood. With a scream, Zechariah ran past the man into the living room, hoping to get away from him long enough for his parents to come save him. What he saw only made him scream again.
His parents were both lying in the middle of the room, dead. His father’s face was a mask of confusion and surprise, his broken bat still clutched in his hands. His mother’s eyes were fogged over, and the blood seeping from the bullet wound in her forehead had just begun to dry. As Zechariah stared at the grisly scene, his hands fell limp, and then tightened up suddenly, balling into fists. His face, once filled with tears and sadness, was overcome by rage at the murderers. His whole body shaking, he began to whimper.
“Hey, boss, let’s just kill the kid, take his sword, and get out of here. I could’ve sworn I’d seen the lady calling the cops before I shot her. One more victim won’t make much of a difference, he’ll probably end up killing himself anyway.” The murderer began to say more, but was cut short by the flaming blade protruding from his throat. Zechariah pulled the blade out of the back of his neck, and the man attempted to cry out, failed, and collapsed to the ground, dead. Zechariah stared at the leader with rage in his eyes, and the fire sheathing the blade grew brighter still.
“You... You killed my mom and dad... Rrrrgh, it! I’ll slaughter you!!!” This last sentence was almost screamed as Zechariah ran towards one of the men. He barely hit the ground before he was dead. Another man was quicker. He raised his gun, a powerful Desert Eagle. The loading mechanism clicked in his hand.
“Hey, kid, calm down and I won’t have to kill you. Just put down the sword, and walk towards me, your hands in the air. Got it?” he didn’t even have a chance to pull the trigger before Zechariah had appeared before him and sliced his right leg off at the kneecap. Then the man died from the next blow, this time to his head.
The third man ran around the corner and hid underneath Zechariah’s bed. As he was mumbling to himself, he saw feet appear at the end of the bed. Whimpering softly, he curled up, until the leader’s head came into view by his feet as he crouched down. Sighing with relief, he got out from under the bed.
And screamed as he noticed the blade erupting through the other man’s chest.
The last murderer alive ran away from the house, off into the night. While he was still within hearing range, he heard the final man crying out before he finally died. Shivers running down the man’s spine, he ripped off the cloth covering his face. He had a pointed jaw, and his teeth seemed a bit sharp for an average human. There was a large tattoo on his forehead of a winged snake circling around a hexagram. This tattoo was actually that of a Homunculus, a powerful creature that was created by alchemy. This one was a homunculus unknown to all but a select few, and he usually went by either the name Ricky Jonas or Hatred. He was able to grow blades out of his back arms, legs, and pretty much everywhere else. He had actually orchestrated the entire attack because if he had gotten his hands on that sword, his power would be unrivaled.
“Hmmm, that little kid is something else... I’ll have to try something else next time...”
Zechariah pulled his sword out of the last man’s head in a spurt of blood, and, hearing a clatter outside the house, he ran to a window, where he saw Hatred escaping from him. Knowing that his parents would never rest in peace until he had killed every last one of their murderers, he got together his things, put on clothes, and prepared to leave. As he walked past his father’s study, he noticed something shining in the corner of his eye. Curious, walked in, and saw the long kido broadsword his father used when they sparred. He took the blade in to remind him of his parents, and also took the two handguns on the wall next to it. Finally ready, he set out to hunt down the final killer.
* * *
5 Years Later
“Alright, then, that’ll be five bucks.”
Zechariah handed the money to the vendor and quickly grabbed the loaf of bread with a hungry look in his eyes. “Sweet, thanks, mister.”
“Haha, you’re welcome, just don’t eat it all at- WHAT THE...?”
Zechariah rubbed his mouth on his arm, and patted his stomach. In just a few seconds, he had eaten a whole loaf of bread. Grinning, he said to the man, “Hey, that was great- got any sourdough?”
With a small whimper the man collapsed in a heap on the ground behind the counter. Zechariah laughed, and then walked around the counter, looking at the stacks of fresh bread. “Hmmm, uh... Oh! There’s some!” dropping five more dollars on the man’s chest as he was lying on the floor he walked away, but not before adding, “Thanks again mister, your bread is great.”
Zechariah gave the man one more look before stepping out into the bustling Central city.
End Part 1
Whewt! Believe me, that part was a pain to write, i think it took me a few days... (i'm not very good at typing...)
EDIT: Just finished Part 2. i didn't feel like waiting to see how many people wanted to be in the next part (if any) so i just felt like making another part with me and the characters on the show. just to make this clear: if anyone wants to be in the next part, send me a pm and we can discuss what would the characters do. anyways, without further ado, i bring to you Part 2 of Bushidou, The Way of the Samurai
Part Two: Fight Fire With Fire
East City Military Headquarters
“You know what, Colonel? I think it’s about time we settled this. How ‘bout we have a fight to find out who should be called the Flame Alchemist. If I win, you have to admit I’m the better alchemist. But if you win, I’ll admit it. Do we have a deal?”
Colonel Roy Mustang looked up at Zechariah Stone standing in front of his desk, and sighed, drumming his fingers on his desk as he did so. Glancing over at 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye, he sighed again. “Sorry, I can’t do that. I was already pushing my luck when the Fuhrer agreed with the fight between me and Edward Elric, and I highly doubt he’ll let me do a fight like that again, what with all of the collateral damaged the parade grounds suffered. I’d love to whip your skinny backside, but I can’t do it without the Fuhrer’s approval.”
A large vein in Zechariah's temple throbbed as he heard this. “Did you just tell me you’d –”
“Yep. You’re no match for me, as much as you try to hide it. Edward is a whole lot better than you’ll ever be, and he barely even tied with me.” Even though he was known as the Flame Alchemist, Mustang’s stare couldn’t have been colder than it was now. 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye sighed and looked out the window while the other two continued to engage in their verbal fencing match.
“You hotheaded son of a-”
“Hey, show some respect. You may be a State Alchemist, but I believe I still outrank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I know, ‘show respect for your elders,’ I get it already...”
“Hey, did you just say that I’m old? I ought to strangle you right now, you runt!!!”
1st Lieutenant Hawkeye looked over at the two, and then said to Mustang, “Sir, please watch your language. It isn’t a good example to your subordinates.”
Zechariah looked over at Hawkeye angrily. “Hey, did you just call me a ‘subordinate’ to this moron? Come on, give me more credit than that!”
“Mr. Stone, I would ask than you please refrain from using language as well. Just because you aren’t in the military doesn’t mean you are allowed to curse as much as you wish.”
“...Fine... But don’t think I’m doing it because of Colonel Hothead over here, I’m doing it because of what you said.”
Hawkeye gave a small smile at this. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”
Zechariah turned to look at Mustang. “Okay, so are you sure you can’t get the Fuhrer to approve of the fight? I mean, we all know it’s going to happen eventually...”
Mustang leaned back in his chair. “Like I said, I doubt the Fuhrer will approve. I can call him and ask, but we might as well count on him saying ‘no.’”
Zechariah’s gaze wandered over to the window. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll just have to wait till he approves it to kick your ass.”
“What did you-”
“You two, please...”
* * *
East City Parade Grounds
“Oooookay, everyone, get ready to be blown away...” Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes’ voice over the megaphone was blaring away as he stood in the middle of the parade grounds. “...By this new picture of my beautiful daughter! Here she is playing with- Aaaagh!!!” His rant was cut short by the sudden arrival of thrown rocks and cries of “C’mon, you idiot, get on with it!!!” and “Geez, you did this at the fight with Edward Elric!!!”
“Alright, alright... anyways, we are here to witness the fight between the two flame specialists, Colonel Roy Mustang and State Alchemist Zechariah Stone!!!” Cheers and jeers alike drowned the rest of the commentary out, and Maes had to wait a good few minutes for it to die down before continuing.
“Right, now just a few more words before we begin. Firstly, the Fuhrer has requested that care should be taken to avoid destroying the parade grounds, unless both of you wish to fix everything up by yourselves. That being said, we will now... BEGIN!!!”
As Maes Hughes scrambled out of the area, Mustang quickly drew his gloved right hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers. The very air exploded around where Zechariah would have still been standing, had he not jumped to the side as soon as it had started.
“You cheater, you did that same thing to Fullmetal! Don’t think it’ll work on me!” Zechariah grinned as he clapped his hands together. He then ran his left hand over his right arm, and in its wake, the arm was sheathed with fire. He repeated this on his left arm while continuing to dodge Mustang’s explosions with relative ease.
“Yes but I still have an advantage,” Mustang remarked with a smirk. “You’re too far away to attack me, but I can still attack you all I wish.”
“Oh, really?” As Zechariah said this, he practically disappeared. Mustang was taken aback, and stopped attacking for a moment. That was all the time it took for Zechariah to sprint up to Mustang and get within striking range. The flames sheathing his arms glowed brightly, and left a trail as his punch flew towards Mustang’s head. Mustang just managed to lean back enough to dodge the blow, but was knocked back by the following kick to the stomach. Getting to his feet, he tried to catch his breath. it, he’s fast... it took all I had to dodge that first attack, and I never even saw that kick coming... Where the hell did he learn to fight like that? It was a whole lot easier fighting Fullmetal...
Charging Mustang again, Zechariah shouted, “Come on, Colonel Hothead, is that all you’ve got? , I’ve had better fights against a tree!!”
Mustang dodged his attack and drew snapped his fingers. As Zechariah dodged the explosion easily, he came within striking range, and Mustang quickly planted a foot in his chest to knock him back. “You may have me when you’re up close,” he muttered. “But as long as I have you at a distance, you’re all mine. Any good soldier should be able to take heed of his advantages and disadvantages and act accordingly to gain the upper hand. Even a runt like you should know that.”
Zechariah prepared to charge again, and then said; “Don’t think calling me short will work like it does with Fullmetal. I’m glad I’m short,” he dodged another blast, and ran towards Mustang, the flames on his hands glowing once more. “Because it makes it that much harder for you to hit me!!!” As mustang dodged a kick and tried to hit Zechariah with one of his own, Zechariah clapped his hands together, and then made a circle with them in front of him. “Hey, Mustang!” he yelled, “Check this out!!” At this he blew through the circle of his hands, and the very air was transmuted into fire, acting as an instant blowtorch. Mustang barely dodged this, and the heat from the attack almost ignited his uniform. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he tried to snap his fingers-
And quickly realized that the sweat had gotten on his fingers and moistened the reactive cloth on his glove to the point where he could not make sparks. As he drew his other hand out of his pocket, he realized that the other hand was wet as well- the hot summer’s day coupled with all of the heat he was dealing with had soaked both gloves in sweat, and he couldn’t send off a single spark. He looked over to the Fuhrer after he dodged another attack from Zechariah, and gave him the signal that he had resigned.
“Both of you, stop fighting!” came the Fuhrer’s reply. “Colonel Mustang has resigned! Our winner is Zechariah Stone!!” Applause and cheers filled the grounds, and Zechariah simply looked around, a look of sheer confusion on his face. Turning to mustang, he said, “Hey, why the hell are you conceding to me? The bet was that whoever won the match through knockout, not resignation- whoever won would be the new Flame Alchemist. If you resign, you get... to keep... your... YOU LOUSY SON OF A-”
“Hey, I thought I told you to stop fighting. Anyways, you won, Mr. Stone. How does it feel, beating one of the best men in this military?” The Fuhrer had walked over to join them, smiling at the two. Zechariah simply turned away and rubbed his stomach.
“All right, I guess. But all this fighting has made me really hungry. Do you know if there’s anywhere around here that serves 32-ounce steaks? I’m starving.”
There was a dull thud as both the Colonel’s and the Fuhrer’s jaws hit the ground, and Zechariah turned around to see their eyes as big as dinner plates.
“What? It’s just a snack...”
End of Part Two
Coming Soon
Part Three: The Flame Returns
East City Military Headquarters
“You know what, Colonel? I think it’s about time we settled this. How ‘bout we have a fight to find out who should be called the Flame Alchemist. If I win, you have to admit I’m the better alchemist. But if you win, I’ll admit it. Do we have a deal?”
Colonel Roy Mustang looked up at Zechariah Stone standing in front of his desk, and sighed, drumming his fingers on his desk as he did so. Glancing over at 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye, he sighed again. “Sorry, I can’t do that. I was already pushing my luck when the Fuhrer agreed with the fight between me and Edward Elric, and I highly doubt he’ll let me do a fight like that again, what with all of the collateral damaged the parade grounds suffered. I’d love to whip your skinny backside, but I can’t do it without the Fuhrer’s approval.”
A large vein in Zechariah's temple throbbed as he heard this. “Did you just tell me you’d –”
“Yep. You’re no match for me, as much as you try to hide it. Edward is a whole lot better than you’ll ever be, and he barely even tied with me.” Even though he was known as the Flame Alchemist, Mustang’s stare couldn’t have been colder than it was now. 1st Lieutenant Hawkeye sighed and looked out the window while the other two continued to engage in their verbal fencing match.
“You hotheaded son of a-”
“Hey, show some respect. You may be a State Alchemist, but I believe I still outrank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay, I know, ‘show respect for your elders,’ I get it already...”
“Hey, did you just say that I’m old? I ought to strangle you right now, you runt!!!”
1st Lieutenant Hawkeye looked over at the two, and then said to Mustang, “Sir, please watch your language. It isn’t a good example to your subordinates.”
Zechariah looked over at Hawkeye angrily. “Hey, did you just call me a ‘subordinate’ to this moron? Come on, give me more credit than that!”
“Mr. Stone, I would ask than you please refrain from using language as well. Just because you aren’t in the military doesn’t mean you are allowed to curse as much as you wish.”
“...Fine... But don’t think I’m doing it because of Colonel Hothead over here, I’m doing it because of what you said.”
Hawkeye gave a small smile at this. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”
Zechariah turned to look at Mustang. “Okay, so are you sure you can’t get the Fuhrer to approve of the fight? I mean, we all know it’s going to happen eventually...”
Mustang leaned back in his chair. “Like I said, I doubt the Fuhrer will approve. I can call him and ask, but we might as well count on him saying ‘no.’”
Zechariah’s gaze wandered over to the window. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll just have to wait till he approves it to kick your ass.”
“What did you-”
“You two, please...”
* * *
East City Parade Grounds
“Oooookay, everyone, get ready to be blown away...” Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes’ voice over the megaphone was blaring away as he stood in the middle of the parade grounds. “...By this new picture of my beautiful daughter! Here she is playing with- Aaaagh!!!” His rant was cut short by the sudden arrival of thrown rocks and cries of “C’mon, you idiot, get on with it!!!” and “Geez, you did this at the fight with Edward Elric!!!”
“Alright, alright... anyways, we are here to witness the fight between the two flame specialists, Colonel Roy Mustang and State Alchemist Zechariah Stone!!!” Cheers and jeers alike drowned the rest of the commentary out, and Maes had to wait a good few minutes for it to die down before continuing.
“Right, now just a few more words before we begin. Firstly, the Fuhrer has requested that care should be taken to avoid destroying the parade grounds, unless both of you wish to fix everything up by yourselves. That being said, we will now... BEGIN!!!”
As Maes Hughes scrambled out of the area, Mustang quickly drew his gloved right hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers. The very air exploded around where Zechariah would have still been standing, had he not jumped to the side as soon as it had started.
“You cheater, you did that same thing to Fullmetal! Don’t think it’ll work on me!” Zechariah grinned as he clapped his hands together. He then ran his left hand over his right arm, and in its wake, the arm was sheathed with fire. He repeated this on his left arm while continuing to dodge Mustang’s explosions with relative ease.
“Yes but I still have an advantage,” Mustang remarked with a smirk. “You’re too far away to attack me, but I can still attack you all I wish.”
“Oh, really?” As Zechariah said this, he practically disappeared. Mustang was taken aback, and stopped attacking for a moment. That was all the time it took for Zechariah to sprint up to Mustang and get within striking range. The flames sheathing his arms glowed brightly, and left a trail as his punch flew towards Mustang’s head. Mustang just managed to lean back enough to dodge the blow, but was knocked back by the following kick to the stomach. Getting to his feet, he tried to catch his breath. it, he’s fast... it took all I had to dodge that first attack, and I never even saw that kick coming... Where the hell did he learn to fight like that? It was a whole lot easier fighting Fullmetal...
Charging Mustang again, Zechariah shouted, “Come on, Colonel Hothead, is that all you’ve got? , I’ve had better fights against a tree!!”
Mustang dodged his attack and drew snapped his fingers. As Zechariah dodged the explosion easily, he came within striking range, and Mustang quickly planted a foot in his chest to knock him back. “You may have me when you’re up close,” he muttered. “But as long as I have you at a distance, you’re all mine. Any good soldier should be able to take heed of his advantages and disadvantages and act accordingly to gain the upper hand. Even a runt like you should know that.”
Zechariah prepared to charge again, and then said; “Don’t think calling me short will work like it does with Fullmetal. I’m glad I’m short,” he dodged another blast, and ran towards Mustang, the flames on his hands glowing once more. “Because it makes it that much harder for you to hit me!!!” As mustang dodged a kick and tried to hit Zechariah with one of his own, Zechariah clapped his hands together, and then made a circle with them in front of him. “Hey, Mustang!” he yelled, “Check this out!!” At this he blew through the circle of his hands, and the very air was transmuted into fire, acting as an instant blowtorch. Mustang barely dodged this, and the heat from the attack almost ignited his uniform. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he tried to snap his fingers-
And quickly realized that the sweat had gotten on his fingers and moistened the reactive cloth on his glove to the point where he could not make sparks. As he drew his other hand out of his pocket, he realized that the other hand was wet as well- the hot summer’s day coupled with all of the heat he was dealing with had soaked both gloves in sweat, and he couldn’t send off a single spark. He looked over to the Fuhrer after he dodged another attack from Zechariah, and gave him the signal that he had resigned.
“Both of you, stop fighting!” came the Fuhrer’s reply. “Colonel Mustang has resigned! Our winner is Zechariah Stone!!” Applause and cheers filled the grounds, and Zechariah simply looked around, a look of sheer confusion on his face. Turning to mustang, he said, “Hey, why the hell are you conceding to me? The bet was that whoever won the match through knockout, not resignation- whoever won would be the new Flame Alchemist. If you resign, you get... to keep... your... YOU LOUSY SON OF A-”
“Hey, I thought I told you to stop fighting. Anyways, you won, Mr. Stone. How does it feel, beating one of the best men in this military?” The Fuhrer had walked over to join them, smiling at the two. Zechariah simply turned away and rubbed his stomach.
“All right, I guess. But all this fighting has made me really hungry. Do you know if there’s anywhere around here that serves 32-ounce steaks? I’m starving.”
There was a dull thud as both the Colonel’s and the Fuhrer’s jaws hit the ground, and Zechariah turned around to see their eyes as big as dinner plates.
“What? It’s just a snack...”
End of Part Two
Coming Soon
Part Three: The Flame Returns
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