Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Blitzkrieg Bop ( Chapter 10 )

Blitzkrieg Bop

 

Hey ho, let's go; Shoot 'em in the back now; What they want, I don't know; They're all revved up and ready to go ~ The Ramones (Ramones)

 

 

They reached what was left of the main lab without any more surprises. Spike rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the devastation all around him. Crumbling chunks of concrete littered the area, and above was an enormous hole in the ceiling. Shattered equipment lay scattered about, fused to a dull red substance which covered the floor. It looked for all the world like a bomb had gone off in here. It also didn't look like there was any red water to be had.

 

“Dammit,” Ed said. “It was all a waste.” He spun and faced Spike, and looked positively stricken. “I'm… I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, next.”

 

“What about that red stuff all over the place?” Spike asked. “Isn't that what we came here for?”

 

Ed faced the lab again, and shook his head. “It's dead. Inert.” He faced Spike again. “I can't recharge it. I'm sorry.” He looked away, shamed, and punched the wall. “I'm not that good.”

 

Spike stared around the lab, looking for something… anything they could take back with them so the trip wouldn't have been a complete waste. Something caught his eye amidst the scattered rubble. Something glowing so softly it was easy to miss. He pulled down his goggles, and looked at the spot through infrared. There was definitely a temperature variance. “Ed, put on your goggles.”

 

The boy did, and looked where Spike told him to. A moment later, he pushed the goggles back up, and scrambled over a pile of debris. He jumped down into a well amongst the trash, and brushed away dirt and shards of glass.

 

Ed scowled at the sight of it. “The array is still active.”

 

Spike started to follow, but winced, and grabbed his side under his trench. His hand came away covered in fresh blood. He gingerly climbed over the pile of rubble, and looked down at what Ed was talking about. The source of the weak glow. “Array?”

 

“Yeah,” Ed said. “It's a supercharged transmutation circle. It was going to be used to make a complete Philosopher's Stone out of the red water.”

 

“And it still has the power to do that?”

 

Ed looked up at him, a frown pulling the corners of his lips down low. He shook his head. “No.” He looked back down, and his fingers dug tensely at the floor. “Not without… sacrificing… human lives.”

 

Spike's brows shot up.

 

The boy sat back on his haunches, and stared down at the line of light in front of him, but not really looking at it.

 

Human sacrifice, Spike thought. People are willing to kill for this thing. They create monsters from their worst nightmares, `living dolls' without souls. They'll stab each other in the back, manipulate, murder, and steal. All for ultimate power.

 

And I thought being in the Red Dragons was rough.

 

“I almost did it, too,” Ed said. “I almost killed a group of prisoners to make the Philosopher's Stone.” He looked up at Spike. The horror of the crime he nearly committed etched in his face. “To give Al back his body.”

 

Spike didn't know what to say. Giving comfort was never one of his stronger talents. He wondered what he would do in the boy's place. He wasn't so sure he would have had the attack of conscience Ed did. He also wasn't so sure that was a good thing.

 

Ed turned back to stare at the bit of array. “I can do this.”

 

“Huh?”

 

He looked at Spike, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I can recharge the dead stone on the floor.”

 

“I think we left our `sacrifice' back down the hall,” Spike said.

 

“Heh. No, the charge from the transmutation circle should be enough to recharge the inert particles on the floor.” Ed got to his knees, and brushed away more dirt. “The stones Brianne needs are incomplete.” He clapped his hands together. “That doesn't require lives.” He slammed his hands down on the edge of the array, and it lit up. Rubble and equipment was absorbed into the floor, and the ceiling mended. The red substance on the floor began to shimmer, and tremble, then shrink in on itself. The light of billions of excited particles swirled about the room, growing brighter. It became blinding, and Spike shielded his eyes. Then the particles coalesced into a ball which shattered with the sound of a million glasses breaking at once.

 

When Spike could see again, there was a neat pile of glowing red stones in the middle of a dull circle.

 

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

McKenna woke up on the deck in the cockpit of the Bebop. She'd fallen asleep sitting on the cold metal floor, leaning against the pilot's control panel. She straightened, and winced as stiff muscles protested, and noticed she'd been covered over with the blanket she'd brought for Jet earlier.

 

She groaned softly as she got to her feet. “I'm getting too old for this,” she mumbled.

 

She looked around. Static still hissed from the radio, but Al and Jet were nowhere to be seen. McKenna glanced out the ports, and saw Al on the bow of the Bebop, staring off in the direction the Swordfish would come from. It was still dark out, but the faint hint of sunrise in the distance cut a line of red. Her heart started to sink.

 

It didn't take her long to find Jet. She knew he was one of those people who had to be doing something when he felt completely helpless. He was right where she expected him to be, in the bay tinkering with the Hammerhead.

 

She quietly knelt near the scattered tools, and watched as a grease-covered hand snaked out from under the craft and started feeling around. She noticed a wrench just out of his reach, and slid it over to stop right under the hand. It touched the wrench, then jerked back like it had been burned.

 

“Wasn't that what you were looking for?” McKenna asked.

 

Jet made a startled noise, and she heard a thump and muttered cussing. He rolled the dolly out, rubbing his head, and glaring at McKenna.

 

“You need to be more careful, there,” she said.

 

“You need to quit sneaking up on people.”

 

“I didn't.”

 

Jet just scowled at her, and rolled back under the craft.

 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

 

“No!”

 

She smiled, and attempted to stifle a chuckle. She heard a chirp from the toolbox, and noticed then Jet had a radio out here. Tied into the main one in the cockpit, she realized. A second chirp followed the first.

 

“Jet?”

 

“I heard it,” he said. She heard metal hitting metal, and the sound of him grunting in effort. “It's just some kind of interference.”

 

She heard a clank of something small hitting the deck, and the sound of relief from Jet. A nut rolled out from under the craft, and McKenna caught it. She saw his hand come out, and feel around the deck. “I have it.”

 

“Oh. Thanks,” he said. “Hold on to that for me.”

 

“Heh. I thought you didn't want my help?”

 

“Fine. Whatever. Just stop being obnoxious.”

 

She was silent for a moment, just staring down at the nut in her hand. How many hours has it been, now? How long have Spike and Ed been out of contact? And there's nothing we can do right now, but sit and wait.

 

I'm responsible, she thought. It was an accident, but it's still my fault they're here. And I'm doing nothing.

 

“I need that nut, McKenna,” Jet said, as his hand shot out from under the craft. She silently dropped it into his open palm, and watched the hand disappear once more.

 

She thought about the blood on her hands from the gate explosion. Another “accident”. I've spent several lifetimes slipping through the multiverse, visiting different worlds and times. Touching lives. Disaster following me wherever I go.

 

She looked at her hands, and thought, How many lives did I destroy and not even know it? And all this time, I've let life just happen. Instead of acting, I've just observed.

 

She thought about Al, and Jet. If Ed and Spike don't come back, Jet will be stuck here, and Al… He'll never have a body again.

 

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

Jet rolled out from under the Hammerhead, got up, and started cleaning up the tools. McKenna just remained where she was, staring down at her hands.

 

“They'll be back soon, right?” she asked.

 

Jet stopped what he was doing, and stared at her. Finally he went back to wiping down his tools. “I don't know.” He threw a wrench into the toolbox hard enough it bounced back out. “I don't know anything on this world, McKenna. Everything I thought I knew is wrong here. All the goddamn rules have been changed. And for all I know, we're going to be stuck here for the rest of our lives.”

 

She flinched at that, and some small part of him glad to see it. He felt as helpless as she did, and he hated feeling helpless. If it hurt her feelings, then so be it.

 

He didn't have to say it, she was thinking the same thing he was. It was written all over her face, and he had no doubt it was on his, too. The guilt. It was because of her they were stuck here.

 

She silently got to her feet, and left the bay. Jet wanted to call her back; he wanted to apologize, but the words froze in his throat.

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

Spike and Ed gathered up the stones. There were too many to carry in the backpack alone, so Ed made a satchel from his coat.

 

“Do we need this many?” Spike asked.

 

Ed shook his head as he scooped more stones into his coat. “Not for Brianne.” He looked up at Spike. “But I don't want to leave the rest here.”

 

Spike didn't question it, he just gathered up the rest of the stones, and helped tie off the satchel. They each slung their burden over their shoulders, and headed out.

 

At the doorway, Spike stopped, and dug in a pocket. Ed looked back, and cocked a brow. “Those things'll kill you, you know.”

 

Spike held up two grenades, and grinned. “Only if I pull the pins.”

 

He set his backpack down, and tossed one grenade into his now free hand, then pulled the pin on the other with his teeth. He lobbed it deep into the lab, then did the same with the other grenade. Then he picked up his satchel, and calmly said, “We might want to run now.”

 

They ran.

 

They made it as far as the end of the corridor, when the grenades went off. Spike lunged, and landed on top of Ed in an attempt to shield him from the blast. When the rubble stopped falling, and their ears stopped ringing, Spike got off the boy.

 

He barely started to get to his feet, when Ed sprang up, and decked him with an automail fist. Spike rolled with the punch, and fell against the wall.

 

“What the hell did you do that for?” Ed screamed. “Are you trying to kill us?!”

 

Spike just rubbed his jaw, and spit out a little blood. “What do you think is going to happen if someone comes in and sees that lab all nice and clean, and the stones gone?”

 

Ed blinked, and all the wind was taken out of his sails. “Uh…”

 

Spike pressed his back against the wall, and pushed himself up, wincing, and grabbing his side again.

 

Ed glanced down at the floor, and his eyes went wide. Spike looked down, and saw blood dripping near his feet. Damn, bleeding a little more than I thought.

 

“Shit. You're hurt,” Ed said.

 

“It's just a scratch,” Spike said, and then his knees buckled under him.

 

Ed swooped in, and tried to help him up, but with the height difference it was nearly impossible. He couldn't support the lanky man on his shoulder. “Dammit,” he said. “You're too tall.”

 

Spike gripped the boy's shoulder, and got back to his feet. He smirked. “Heh. Nah, you're just too short.”

 

“What the hell are you doing calling me a microscopic particle you can't even see! I'm not that—“

 

“Ed.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Shut up and let's get out of here.”

 

Ed led him out of the complex, stopping every so often, because Spike would stick some plastique on the wall, and flip a switch.

 

“What is that?” the boy asked.

 

“It's to cover our tracks,” Spike said. “And it might piss a few people off.”

 

The tough part was tip-toeing through the grid of hot wires in the courtyard. Spike kept stumbling, nearly falling into them a couple times, but Ed was quick to help keep him up.

 

They made it through the hole Ed had made in the outer wall earlier, and the boy dropped Spike against the wall while he repaired it. The backpack and satchel full of stones rested at his feet.

 

He dug out a bent cigarette, and lit it, then pulled out a remote trigger, and pressed the switch. The explosives he'd set throughout the complex went up, rattling the ground and buildings around them.

 

Ed ducked and covered his head, and when the rubble stopped raining down on them, he glared at Spike. “What is it with you and explosives?”

 

Spike smiled with the cigarette dangling from his lips. “I like to blow things up.”

 

Ed helped Spike back to his feet. “No shit. Let's get out of here before we attract too much attention.”

 

“Too late,” Spike said.

 

As Ed turned, a man with an X-shaped scar on his face decked him, and slammed him against the wall.

 

“Scar!” Ed said.

 

Spike held his wounded side, and rammed his head into Scar's ribs, stunning him enough to cause him to let go of Ed. He punched Spike with his right fist, sending him falling hard into the wall, but not before he got a good look at the tattoos on the other man's arm. The result was Spike being hit twice, and he started to see black spots as he slid down the rough brick.

 

“This is not your fight,” Scar said.

 

Spike could only watch in hazed confusion as Ed and this `Scar' person duked it out. He knew he was too weak to be of any use, now. Damn chimera clawed a little deeper than I thought.

 

“Fullmetal, you don't belong here,” Scar said, easily avoiding the kick from the boy.

 

Ed's foot whizzed past Scar, but impacted with the wall hard enough to knock mortar loose. To his credit, he used the energy from the impact to throw him back at the much bigger man. Unfortunately, Scar had anticipated the move, and handled it deftly.

 

Spike struggled to get back to his feet, and mumbled, “You're telegraphing your moves, Ed.”

 

Scar's right hand shot out toward the boy's head, but Ed quickly dodged. The hand slammed into the brick wall, and sparks flew. A hole appeared in an explosive shower of debris.

 

“Shit.” Spike fell out of the way.

 

“What the hell are you doing here, Scar?” Ed asked.

 

Scar grabbed Ed by the front of his short jacket, but the boy threw his arms up, went limp, and slid right out of it.

 

Spike fought to keep consciousness, and get back on his feet. “Use your height,” he mumbled.

 

“I came here to destroy that lab,” Scar said.

 

As Ed hit the ground, his foot came out and swung, attempting to kick Scar off balance. “We already did that.”

 

He deflected the kick, and reached down for Ed again. The boy took advantage of the precarious balance, and deftly tossed Scar over him. It brought him to Spike's feet, and the satchels of stones.

 

Scar rolled with the throw, and quickly recovered his balance, but then he grabbed his right arm, and growled in pain. “Red stones,” Scar said, looking at the backpack.

 

Spike saw the tattoos on the man's arm begin to glow brightly, and his eyes went wide.

 

Scar glared at Ed. “Why, Fullmetal?” he asked. “Have you forgotten the price of making the Philosopher's Stone that quickly?” He lurched toward Ed. “Has the promise of power finally seduced you, too?”

 

A cold chill surged through Spike at the tone of Scar's voice. It had become dangerous. It was no longer a case of just kicking ass, but murderous rage from Scar.

 

“Scar, wait,” Spike said. But he was ignored.

 

“By the blood of Ishbala, I will not let you make the Philosopher's Stone!”

 

Oh, shit! Spike thought. Religious fanatic on a crusade. He saw the tattoos glow even brighter on Scar's arm, and energy literally crackled from his hand. This time, he means to kill Ed.

 

Adrenalin exploded in Spike's system, giving him a moment of clarity and strength. He scrambled clumsily to his feet, and pulled the semi-automatic out of the shoulder holster. “Get away from him, Scar,” he said.

 

Scar spun on him, and reached for the gun, “I told you thi—“ The man's eyes went wide in shock. Then Spike saw three black claws shoot out through the other man's stomach.

 

He saw the coldly beautiful woman behind Scar, and a short obscenely obese man next to her; who looked incredibly hungry.

 

Ed dashed past Scar, grabbed the stones, and yelled, “Let's get the hell out of here Spike. Now!”

 

“Can I eat him now, Lust?” the short fat one said, staring intently at Spike.

 

“Be my guest, but leave the boy alone.”

 

The woman had retracted her claws, and Scar fell forward. Spike felt the blood drain from his face when she licked her fingers while she stared at him. The look was predatory, and sexual.

 

“Spike!” Ed yelled.

 

Spike felt his knees try to buckle. The slavering beast charged him, incredibly fast for something so large.

 

Slowly, Spike brought the gun up, and blearily took aim. He squeezed the trigger, as it leapt for him, the barrel practically in his gaping maw.

 

Like a movie playing in slow motion, he saw the bullets cut the top half of the insatiable monster's head off, and felt himself splattered with blood and bits of brain matter. He fell against the wall, just out of the trajectory of the headless body. He saw the body fall, and he looked up just in time to see the coldly beautiful woman coming at him. He pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger again, bringing her down.

 

Only then was he aware that Ed was pulling on him, and urging him to move, now.

 

Spike dropped the semiautomatic, and stumbled off with Ed. He glanced back, and immediately whished he hadn't.