The bowl on the low table wobbles, and the woman has time to gasp in surprise before he steps behind her. The equation runs its course by the time he lightly taps the back of her skull with his diamond hard gauntlet.
Her head falls limp to the side of the transformed bed, and he checks her pulse at the neck just to be sure he didn't strike her too hard. The rhythm beats steadily beneath his left fingertips, and with a relieved sigh, he crouches low to take her sandals.
As he steps into them, he frowns.
"Dammit. I am NOT that SMALL." He snarls at the lying leather. He glares at the stupid straps that are certainly not as snug as they should be, and judges he has to make another hole on the strap for the buckle in order to walk about safely.
He pats the woman over carefully, searching for the hidden knives he knows are there. Somewhere. He blushes a few times but he finds them strapped in a neat row at her right thigh, beneath the loose tunic these people seem to favor. Just to be safe, he takes the entire set: he isn't sure how long the woman will be out.
He plops the bundle on the floor beside him and takes one blade out to do the job. It's quick work. He bounces experimentally on the balls of his feet a few times before a wave of dizziness forces him to stop.
That's right. Need food. He thinks as he turns to the low table with the bowl.
After fumbling about with the stupid sticks, he stabs one into something round and pasty floating in the warm brown broth. He narrows his eyes at the doughy thing for a few breaths and brings it to his lips for a small nibble.
The taste is mostly salty, and something odd about it makes his nose wrinkle up. It's not enough to be completely disgusting, so he obeys his grumbling belly and stabs another one with the stick a bit more enthusiastically. Chewing heartily on the dumpling-thing with the not-completely-useless stick jutting past his lips, he shuffles over and cracks the door open.
A pale eyed, redheaded boy with "love" carved into his forehead stands at one end of the hall with his arms folded. Gaahraaahh. Ed meets his icy gaze steadily, and narrows his eyes when the lid on the gourd on the boy's back pops off and clatters to the floor.
Guess a quiet exit is off the table. Ed thinks, and continues to chew the dumpling.
He notices the sand sliding out of the gourd, making a slithering noise much like a snake, and widens his eyes. He watches warily as the sand rises into the air and shoves the door wide open like a living thing.
He takes in a startled breath and smells blood. He wrinkles his nose in disgust as he takes a step back. He has no answers as to how the sand is being moved in such a way, and sweeps his eyes throughout the hall beyond the doorway.
Far beyond this "Gahrah", a bunch of faceless goons in cool looking demon masks crouch defensively about the old man he spent the morning ignoring.
At the other end he glimpses a tall blond woman and for a heartbeat, his gaze darts back.
Her hair is pulled back into four pony tails instead of the formal clip she usually prefers while on duty, but there is no doubt in his mind who it is that stands guarding that escape route: Riza Hawkeye. She moves smoothly in the flowing robes of these people, her dark eyes sniper sharp and fixated on him. He watches one arm reaching behind her back, likely for a gun, and Ed quickly swallows down what is in his mouth.
He knows with that cold look from Hawkeye, of all people, it is likely to be his last meal.
He feels the sand rush about him, and by instinct, Ed slaps his palms together. He knows well that sand is made of two elements.. Silicon and oxygen, arranged in a matrix of one. Most rocks are made from variations of the stuff, and if his had the time he could make use of it. Only. There is no time. No time at all to calculate a proper equation.
Alchemy is the science that is comprised of three steps: Understanding. Deconstruction and reconstruction. He learned long ago that you don't always have to advance to the final step.
In a flash of blue lightening, his will slices through the bonds binding silicon and oxygen together. Instead of sand, grey goo plops noisily to the hospital floor. By the smell earlier, Ed suspects a little dried rotten blood drips like rain along with it.
His heart races as he twists away from the door and into a roll, slapping his hands together on the way.
Ed completes the move and pulls out his signature staff from the wall. The effort leaves him sweaty and panting, but he stands at the ready, pointing the blade at the redhead entering the room. The boy's face is expressionless as he waves over his shoulder to the masked guys gathering behind him. Ed can see the look he gives Riza down the hall, which anyone would interpret to mean "back off", and spits the stick out of his mouth.
The boy toes the gray goo, and slides his pale gaze to the transformed bed's captive. Heartbeats pass before the icy stare returns to regard Ed.
An eternity passes in silence. Ed finds himself tempted to inch closer to the thick wall behind him. His entire being aches to chance another transmutation, but the fear of loosing consciousness doing so stops him. He doesn't want to die is such a stupid way! If only he had a chance to eat more food!
He watches the boy move aside, and wave grandly at the open door with an open palm. Whatever he says, Ed doesn't know.
The boy repeats the phrase, and Ed scrunches his brows together.
Then the boy says a word that he does know. One that causes him lower the spear slightly. One that he learned from a merchant just a few days before.
"Friend."
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
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