Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Feuer Frei! ( Chapter 9 )

 

Feuer Frei!

 

Whoever knows pain is dangerous; from the fire that burns the soul. Bang bang! ~ Rammstein (Mutter - Translated)

 

 

Spike watched the landscape slip past under the Swordfish. There was little detail to his naked eyes, but the sonar was feeding back enough. Ahead in the distance, he could see the pale glow of Central City. He estimated they'd hit the outskirts in about five minutes.

 

Spike glanced in the mirror, and thought Ed might be dozing. The boy had been quiet for the past hour, as it is.

 

“Hey, Ed,” he said. The boy was instantly alert. “We're almost there.”

 

“Follow the river around the edge of town, and then head in by the docks,” Ed said. “The prison and Lab Five are near there.”

 

A few minutes later, Spike did a flyover of Lab Five. What he saw on the sonar was not encouraging. “Looks like I'm picking up some warm bodies. Not many, though. We also have another problem.”

 

He glanced up from the sonar display. “That roof won't hold the Swordfish.”

 

“The docks are empty this time of night,” Ed said. “And the warehouses at one end are pretty much empty all the time.”

 

Spike cocked a brow and smiled.

 

He followed Ed's directions to the mostly abandoned part of the docks. Large square blocks of buildings faced each other along a narrow alley. It might be wide enough for a delivery truck to get through, but there was no way the Swordfish would fit without folding her wings. As he did a fly-over, he found a possible landing spot, but he would have to do some quick finessing to get the wings folded during the landing in order to avoid the buildings. Spike knew if the wings reached the halfway point he would make it through the tight space without a problem. It was just timing it to get to that point. The hydraulics which raised the wings were not exactly swift.

 

And the only building the sonar read as completely empty, was at the opposite end of the row from where he would land. Fortunately, it faced the direction he was coming in from. He knew there would be no way he could turn the Swordfish into one of the small warehouses in such a tight space.

 

He came around again, and descended. He dropped the landing gear, and cut the engines to add to the drag that would help bring the speed down. He knew the landing was going to be rough, and warned Ed. As soon as he felt the wheels touch solid ground, he ordered the wings to fold. The ailerons collapsed, and the wings slowly started to rise.

 

And the warehouses sped closer.

 

Too fast, Spike thought. He pulled back on the brakes harder. There was a sickening crunch as one wing, not yet folded far enough, clipped the roof of a metal warehouse. The Swordfish jerked to the side in response, and Spike fought with the controls to get her straightened back up. He over-corrected, cursed, and got the ship back on track.

 

The warehouse he was aiming for was still coming up too fast. He knew there was no way to stop before crashing into it. He hit the power-up on the laser cannon, and pulled back on the controls to bring the nose up a little.

 

He never really wanted to know what would happen if he fired that thing at a very close target. The resultant explosion was deafening, and the light was blinding. All the sensors in the ship went crazy and pegged off the scales. Spike prayed, closed his eyes and pulled even harder on the brakes.

 

The Swordfish came to a stop without another crash, and cautiously, Spike opened his eyes. They were in the warehouse, at a slight angle. The tip of the laser cannon just touching the back wall.

 

He popped the canopy, and saw Ed bound out before it was all the way open. Spike wasn't so sure he could blame him for wanting out of there as quickly as possible, and wondered if he was going to have a fight on his hands to get him back in when it was time.

 

He unstrapped, and grabbed a small electronic device from a storage drawer under the seat. He flipped it on, made sure it was working, then shoved it in a pocket. He snagged up a small backpack, and followed Ed out of the ship.

 

To his surprise, the boy wasn't in a hurry to get out of the ship because the landing scared him, but for another reason altogether. As Spike's feet hit the ground, Ed was replacing the ruined wall with Alchemy.

 

Spike was at the door, and cautiously peeking through the window as soon as it was whole again. Ed joined him on the other side, and waited silently.

 

Just as Spike expected, two people, he assumed were guards, came their way to investigate all the noise. He gestured to Ed to keep quiet, and he pulled out his trusty Glock. The boy's eyes went wide, but he didn't say a word.

 

“I'm tellin' ya, that noise came from around here,” the first one said.

 

“There's nothing here, Charlie,” the second one said. “You were dreaming again.”

 

“I didn't dream that! You heard it too.”

 

“It was thunder. It had to be.”

 

“Make excuses. I'm gunna check out this warehouse.”

 

Both Spike and Ed glanced down at the doorknob starting to turn. Spike quietly cocked the hammer on the glock. Ed brought his hands together, and then pressed them against the door, near the knob and the lock.

 

The one called Charlie rattled the knob, but the door didn't budge.

 

“See? It's locked, Charlie. Let's get back to the office now.”

 

“Yeah. Maybe you're right, and it was thunder.”

 

Ed and Spike peeked out the small window to make sure they were gone. As soon as they were certain it was clear, they both exhaled, and sagged in relief.

 

As soon as Ed lifted his hands off the door, it came free, and Spike cautiously opened it. He crept outside, staying in the shadows, and against the building, and had reached the corner before he realized Ed wasn't behind him. He looked back, and a quick flash of light told him the boy was doing more Alchemy.

 

“Ed,” he said in a stage whisper. “We don't have time for that, come on.”

 

In an instant the boy was at his side. “Those guards might come back,” he whispered. “I put up a false wall to hide the Swordfish. It won't fool anyone if they look too close, but it should help.”

 

Spike nodded, and then dashed across the open space between the warehouses.

 

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

They made it to the outer wall of Lab Five without incident, and in the shadows of the wall, Spike knelt down and opened the backpack up. He pulled out two small keypads with screens, and two pair of dark glasses. He hooked the wires hanging from the glasses to the keypads, and then switched them on. Both objects began to pulse.

 

Ed watched curiously. “What are those?” he asked.

 

“Motion sensors,” Spike said. He donned one pair of glasses, and looked around. The variances in temperature showed up on the lenses as blobs of color ranging from blues for the cooler temperatures, to reds, to almost white when he looked at Ed. Spike jerked his head back a little, and raised the glasses. “We sometimes use these when a bounty goes into hiding.” He handed the other set to Ed. The boy put his on, and his brows disappeared into his bangs.

 

“That's the infrared you're looking at now. It's about as close to looking through walls as you can get. Provided those walls aren't too thick. They're a big help in large, dark places.”

 

Ed shoved the glasses up to his forehead, and looked down at the small screen. Spike pointed at the curved grid. “That's your distance.” He pointed down toward the other end of the outer wall. “The top line is approximately as far away as that corner, to give you a reference.”

 

The motion sensors chose that moment to start chirping. Both Ed and Spike squeezed up against the wall, and watched as the motion sensors read something approaching them in a hurry. The one blob on the screen became two, and still neither of them could see what it was. “Where's it at?” Spike whispered.

 

The sensors detected something practically on top of them, but there was nothing. Then they heard, “Meow,” and looked up. Both of them exhaled. Two cats were perched on the wall, looking curiously down at them.

 

Spike covered his eyes, and softly groaned. “Dammit, Ed,” he mumbled.

 

“What'd I do?!”

 

“Huh?!” Spike looked confused, then he realized what he'd just said. “Not you. We used to have a crewmember named Ed… something or other. It was a long last name. Anyhow it looks like she recalibrated the motion sensors. And I don't have the tools to change them back.”

 

“Well, at least we know what a cat looks like on this thing,” Ed said.

 

Spike pulled the glasses back down over his eyes, and aimed the sensor around the corner and toward the front gate. Everything looked good, and there didn't appear to be any activity. “It's gunna have to do.” He scanned down the gate, toward the ground, and saw a straight, thin line of red amongst the blues and greens. “Looks like they reset the hot wire.”

 

He looked up, and around the front wall on either side of the gate. “The gate is out. Looks like hot wires along the top of the wall, too.”

 

“Then how'd the cats get up there?” Ed asked.

 

Spike looked at Ed, and cocked a brow. He stepped back from the side wall, and looked up. He could see a hint of the hot wire, but it wasn't emitting any heat. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well, well, well. Looks like not everything is back in order, yet.” He glanced down at Ed. “What do you think? About 12 feet?”

 

Spike stepped back a few more paces, then took a running leap, scaling the wall like a cat. Once perched on the top, he leaned down and offered a hand up to Ed. The boy just grinned, and made a hole in the wall he could step through.

 

“Show off,” Spike said, and got ready to leap down on the other side.

 

“Stop,” Ed said, and Spike froze, nearly losing his balance.

 

Then he looked down at the ground inside the Lab Five yard. “Shit.”

 

“Guess that explains why they didn't bother to fix the hot wire on the top of the wall,” Ed said.

 

The entire yard was crisscrossed with wires, and they were all hot.

 

Spike knew his skills, but he wasn't about to chance landing on that side of the wall, and hope he landed right. He jumped down on the outside, and came in through the hole.

 

The two of them tiptoed across the courtyard through the grid of electrified wires, and squeezed up against the lab, proper. Spike mentally patted himself on the back for having the forethought to pack the infrared goggles.

 

“Where is the way in, Ed?”

 

“This way,” he said, and led Spike to the back of the building.

 

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

Once inside, Spike and Ed moved through the building and down without much incident. They kept the infrared goggles on, even though there was weak lighting still on along the floors of the corridors. The motion sensors pulsed, but they managed to avoid picking up anything more than just a rat or two. It made Spike nervous. The sickly lighting along the floor of the corridor ended abruptly, but he could tell the corridor itself went on further. The pitch blackness made the hair on the back of Spike's neck stand on end.

 

“Something's wrong. This is way too easy,” Ed said.

 

Then the motion sensors chirped. Spike lifted the goggles and looked at the screen. Whatever the blobs on the screen represented, they were bigger than the cats. He brought the goggles down over his eyes again, but saw little to indicate any life form moving in the shadows. “The infrared isn't picking anything up,” he said, and raised the goggles. “What the hell? Unless…” His eyes went wide, and he felt suddenly very chilled. Ectothermic? Cold-blooded. Reptiles that big are usually poisonous.

 

Something growled low in the darkness.

 

“You spoke too soon, Ed,” Spike said. “Looks like someone left the dogs in charge.” He pocketed the motion detector, and pulled out his gun. Next to him, Ed did a little Alchemy on his automail arm, and formed a short sword out of the wrist. Spike's brows shot up, but he didn't have a chance to comment.

 

From the dark end of the corridor, several hulking figures slowly stalked forward. Twelve pairs of eyes caught the weak light and seemed to glow, as the shadows darker than the corridor moved slowly forward. Low growls came from the figures, and reverberated off the corridor walls. The sound was hollow and alien.

 

Ed had taken a defensive stance with his short sword, and Spike brought the gun up, peering down the sight to the head of the creeping, threatening pack. As the first huge claw stepped into the line of light, he cocked the hammer back, and took aim. He had the sight pointed directly between the eyes of the pack-leader. He had no intention of letting it get back up, if he could help it.

 

The beast snarled and bounded into the light. Spike fired, and missed, as the creature leapt.

 

He fired again, hitting it square in the chest. Its motion carried it on forward. Spike was tackled and lost his gun as he was brought to the floor by the dead creature.

 

There was no time for him to wonder what it was he shot, as the rest of the pack was upon them, and it was now a matter of crushing ribcages and breaking necks. He wasn't going to attempt getting another gun out and shooting in these close quarters, now. Not with Ed slicing four-footed nightmares from the bowels of Hell right next to him.

 

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

Jet snapped awake at the sense of someone moving nearby. He opened his eyes, and blinked a few times to focus. McKenna was standing next to him with a blanket in hand, and a lopsided, sheepish smile on her face.

 

“Sorry to wake you.”

 

Jet rubbed his eyes, and said, “S'okay. I need to be awake, anyway.”

 

She handed him the blanket, and he shook his head.

 

“Haven't heard from them, yet?” she said, as she lay the blanket aside.

 

He shook his head, and sat straighter. He stretched his arms over his head, and could feel his old bones popping back into place all down his spine. It felt good. “We lost contact about an hour into the trip. That was about…” He glanced down at the chronometer, and scowled. “Five hours ago.”

 

McKenna asked, “How's Al holding up?”

 

Jet looked at the boy sitting on the deck over by the huge ports. He looked to be just staring out through them, but he couldn't be certain if that was entirely the case. “He's not saying much. I know he's worried about Ed, though.”

 

McKenna leaned against the control console. Her head drooped, and her face was curtained by her long hair. She looked exhausted.

 

She looks more than just exhausted, Jet thought. She looks defeated, almost.

 

“You need to go get some sleep,” he said.

 

“Heh. So do you,” she said. She faced him, and he was once again struck by the ancientness of her eyes. “I can take a turn monitoring the radio.”

 

He smiled slightly and shook his head. “I couldn't sleep if I tried.”

 

She cocked a brow, and smirked. Jet felt his face heating up. “Okay,” he said. “I can doze. That's not the same thing.”

 

“Then I guess we're going to both hang out here and listen to static,” she said, and straightened. “I'm going to make some coffee. Want some?”

 

He nodded. “Sure.”

 

She looked over at Al, and said, “Do you need anything, Little Brother?”

 

He never faced either of them; he just pulled his knees up, and wrapped his arms around them. “No thank you,” he said.

 

Jet was certain if the boy was able to, he'd be shedding silent tears right now. He could swear the armor was just a little bit duller than usual.

 

McKenna came up to the boy, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Alphonse, one way or another, your brother will be back.”

 

“I- I'm afraid that he'll be back…dead.”

 

For all the gruffness Jet showed on the surface, he couldn't help but be affected by the tone of the boy's voice. He had a sudden feeling of someone crushing his heart. “I know Spike, Al. He'll do everything in his power to bring your brother back safe.”

 

Al curled in on himself even more, and said softly, “I hope so.”

 

McKenna leaned down, and gave the boy a gentle hug.

 

Al turned his head a little and said, “Why did you do that?”

 

“You looked like you needed it.”

 

He looked away from her, and said, “Why bother? I can't feel it.”

 

“You knew I did it,” she said, and straightened. “Don't be so sure your human soul didn't feel it.”

 

Al jerked his head up, and looked at her. “You think I'm still… human?”

 

“What else would you be?” she said. “Your shell might be metal, but your shell isn't what makes you human.” She came around to the front of him, and knelt down. She tapped the helm, and then the breastplate. “This and this. Your head and your heart are what make you human, Al. And you're one of the most human people I've ever had the honor to meet.”

 

Jet saw the back of the armor straighten, and the light reflected off of the metal just a little brighter.

 

“Thank you, Brianne,” Al said.

 

She nodded, and stood. She headed to the galley.

 

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

Spike was covered in blood and gore. He ripped the throat out of another monster, and dropped it at his feet. He was tired and panting, every muscle screaming exhaustion, as he watched the darkness waiting for another nightmarish creature to lunge out of the bowels of this place and attack.

 

He took a step back, and felt something soft and warm against his back. He spun, reacting instinctively, and gripped a throat as he felt the bite of cold metal against his own.

 

He blinked and let go. “Ed.”

 

Both of them let out relieved breaths, then looked around. “Is that the last of them?” Spike asked.

 

“I think so.”

 

“Good.” Spike fell against the wall, and slid down as he dug in his pockets. He found a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and pulled one bent one out. He got blood all over the cylinder of tobacco, but didn't care. He patted himself down, and finally located a lighter. Once he got the thing lit, he took a deep drag. A cigarette never tasted so good as it did at that moment.

 

Ed had followed his example, and was sitting on the opposite side of the corridor. He smirked a little.

 

Spike cocked a brow, and looked at the devastation and grue surrounding them. “Chimera?”

 

Ed nodded.

 

Spike grimaced and pushed himself back to his feet. “Cute critters,” he said. “I'm surprised everyone doesn't keep one for a pet.” He started lifting dead bodies, looking around, and under them. The variety of horrors amazed him. Some had scales and spikes; some had hair and spikes; some had scales, hair, deadly sharp claws and spikes. All of them were ugly, and dangerous.

 

“That has to be one sick son of a bitch to make these things,” he said, as he bent down, and picked his gun up out of a mess of blood and spilled intestines.

 

Ed started getting to his own feet. “Yeah,” he said, then fell quiet.

 

Spike wiped the gore off his gun with the inside of his trench, and glanced at the boy. He thought Ed looked… haunted, as he stared at the pile of dead bodies. Spike didn't think it had to do with the killing of the animals, but something else altogether.

 

We all have our demons, he thought, as he pocketed the barely clean pistol. It's none of my business.

 

He clapped the boy on the shoulder, startling him out of reverie, and said, “Let's get this over with.”

 

Ed nodded, a determined set to his jaw.

 

Spike dug the goggles and motion sensor out of his pocket, and activated them again. “And Ed?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Never, ever say something is too easy again.”

 

He heard the boy chuckle from behind him.