Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Bat Out of Hell ( Chapter 21 )

Bat Out of Hell

 

The sirens are screamin' and the fires are howlin', way down in the valley tonight; There's a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye and a blade shinin' oh so bright; There's evil in the air and there's thunder in the sky and a killer's on the bloodshot streets; And down in the tunnel where the deadly are rising; Oh I swear I saw a young boy; Down in the gutter; He was starting to foam in the heat - Meatloaf (Bat Out of Hell)

 

Something had changed in her body. The red stones, while they were within her body and charged, dumped their waste within her bloodstream. This by-product sat dormant in her for decades after the last stone lost its charge. The by-product was similar to the raw red water the stones were created out of in the first place, and held a small charge all on its own. But as time went on, and she phased from one world to another, that charge depleted as well. And as it depleted the waste metastasized within her, binding to the oxygen in her blood, and changing again within the carbon dioxide she exhaled.

 

She started to poison everyone she had extended contact with.

 

The symptoms didn't always show up right away. Most often, it was years later. The symptoms were all the same, a rough cough developed, and the sputum became pink-tinged with blood. Fever, infection that would not respond to antibiotics, weight loss, lesions on the lungs. To the worlds familiar with it, the symptoms were much like tuberculosis, but the bacilli were never present. The cure could not be found.

 

Those who were advanced enough in medical science knew it wasn't a disease, but a contamination, struggled to find a way to end the spread; but without knowing the source of the contamination, it was virtually impossible. The element that was the real cause of the contamination was unique to all but one world.

 

As she phased from one world to the next, trying desperately to get back to where she needed to be, she signed the death warrants of thousands. And she remained oblivious.

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

Spike hunted the entire ship looking for just one bottle of liquor. He even searched pockets and other small hiding places for a possible joint. Anything. Even the idea of turpentine was starting to sound good, but he wasn't quite that desperate.

 

In anger and frustration, he kicked the small refrigerator sitting in the lounge. Except he forgot he wasn't wearing his boots. He hopped and cussed all the way over to the chair, where he fell, and nursed the wounded foot.

 

This place was really starting to get to him. Sure, it was all fun and games at first. They still had a way home; as soon as Jet pulled his head out and let McKenna eat those stones. And even though the chimera and the Homunculi broke the meter for creep-factor, he always figured it wouldn't matter once they were out of here.

 

But now McKenna was gone, Jet was heading right into the mouth of Hell as far as Spike was concerned, and the Swordfish was in a million pieces. The military was crawling all over the place like roaches. He had no idea what the rules were in this place; because they kept changing. He can't find a drink to save his life, and now his foot hurt like hell.

 

“Fuck!” he yelled as he buried his face in his hands.

 

“You sound like a man in desperate need of stress-relief.”

 

Spike looked up, and saw one of the new soldiers leaning casually against the doorway into the lounge; an unlit cigarette hung from his lips. He searched his memory, and remembered the name; Havoc.

 

“You're not exactly my type,” Spike said.

 

Havoc smirked, and took Spike's comment as an invitation. He strode the rest of the way in.

 

“It's the uniform, isn't it?” he said as he descended the steps. “I keep sending suggestions to the higher-ups. But they just keep ignoring me. I think something that shows off my figure would get me more dates.” He flopped onto the couch, and propped his feet on the table as if he owned the place. “Besides, blue really isn't my color.”

 

Spike lifted a single brow. He couldn't tell if this guy was joking, or not.

 

Havoc reached into his jacket, and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. “Relax, I thought you were getting a bit tense out there with the kids, and thought you might want a little of this.”

 

Spike took the offered bottle, and a slow smile crept across his face. “I might just have to kiss you for this, Havoc.”

 

“Well, damn! If I'd've known bribery would work, I would've started using it a long time ago.”

 

Spike snorted, and took a nice, big swallow. The burn felt wonderful.

 

As he handed the bottle back to Havoc, the soldier said, “You know, Colonel Mustang really isn't the bad guy, here.”

 

“Our technology is going to give him a lot of leverage, Havoc. Even I can see that. It's going to tip the scales of whatever balance of power you people have on this planet, and that's never a good thing.”

 

“You're partially right,” Havoc said. “The Colonel is very ambitious, and is doing his damndest to rise through the ranks as quickly as he can. And this technology is going to help. A lot. But not in the way you think.”

 

“Power corrupts,” Spike said.

 

“And absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Havoc grinned. “Looks like some concepts are universal.”

 

He leaned forward, serious now. “This is what he's trying to prevent, though. Except, he's between a rock and a hard place with you guys. Your presence is already a rumor spreading around Central City, and there are some factions who are taking that rumor very seriously.” He took another drink, and handed the bottle back to Spike. “Factions who would use the technology for a major power play. The Colonel wants to prevent that, but he can't go back empty-handed. Too many people are already aware that we're here.”

 

Havoc pulled a lighter out of his jacket, and lit his cigarette. He fell back on the couch, and spread his arms across the back. “Anyone tell you about the Ishbal Rebellion, yet?”

 

“War stories, Havoc?”

 

“Heh. Sorta. I'm sure you've heard stories like it before. Except this one has a twist.” He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He slowly pulled in smoke from the cigarette, and just as slowly let it out. “You know what Fullmetal's mission is, right?”

 

“Something about finding a Philosopher's Stone, wasn't it?”

 

“The way you say it, it sounds like a fairy tale.”

 

“I'm just waiting for the elves and fairies, here,” Spike said as he offered the bottle back to Havoc.

 

The soldier shook his head. “Keep it. You're going to need it.”

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

“Someone forgot to tell Kimbley where he was supposed to be,” Jet said after the dust settled.

 

Hughes rolled onto his back, and brought his gun up. He looked around, but he was temporarily blinded from the boulder explosion. Kimbley could be right next to him, and he wouldn't see him. “Dammit,” he whispered.

 

“Can you see him?” Jet asked.

 

“I can't see a thing, the explosion blinded me.”

 

“Me too, dammit.”

 

“He ran off into the trees,” Sheska said.

 

Hughes stared down at her. All he saw was a dark shadow that was somewhat Sheska-shaped. He thought the shadow shrugged. “I had my eyes closed when the boulder blew up.”

 

“Then you're going to have to be our eyes for a few minutes, Sheska,” Hughes said. “That cavern entrance should only be a few feet away. Can you find it for us?”

 

“Yes, Sir.” He heard her crawl off through the grass.

 

“Odd,” Hughes said. “Kimbley normally doesn't miss an opportunity like this.”

 

“I'm pretty sure he wants to keep me alive,” Jet said.

 

Hughes heard him shift and grunt softly as he got up into a crouch.

 

“I doubt he or any of his cohorts can fly the Hammerhead.”

 

“Fly…” Hughes suddenly felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. “You're not just `a' contact,” he said. “You're one of the aliens.”

 

Jet chuckled softly. “Took ya long enough.” Hughes heard Jet slap at something metallic. He assumed it was the arm. “Your automail mechanics might be good, but they're not this good. Not yet.”

 

From behind them Sheska made a surprised squeak, and they heard her tumble.

 

“I found it,” she said.

 

“Keep talking Sheska, we're coming for you,” Hughes said.

 

“Okay.”

 

He got to his hands and knees, and glanced over to Jet. He was starting to see him a little better. “How's your vision?”

 

“Coming back. Let's get the hell out of here.”

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

Spike stared up at the slowly turning ceiling fan. The half-smoked cigarette balanced on his lips. “Jet's fucked.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Havoc said.

 

Spike looked at him, and a cold, angry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You don't know our luck.”

 

He thought a moment, and an idea struck him. He bolted to his feet, and made a bee-line right for the bay. Havoc followed right on his heels.

 

Spike pulled himself up on the stolen craft they caught McKenna in, and popped the canopy. Havoc remained on the deck. “You're not thinking of going after him, are you?”

 

Spike glared down at him, then bounced into the cockpit. “Put yourself in my place, Havoc.”

 

The other man scowled, but nodded.

 

Spike powered up the systems, and looked close. Plenty of fuel, all systems were in the green. “Nice, it has hover capabilities.” He growled and thumped the dash. “No weapons, though.”

 

“Too bad you can't do Alchemy like the Colonel,” Havoc said.

 

Spike cocked a brow. “Oh? Care to explain?”

 

“Well, they don't call him the Flame Alchemist for nothing.” Havoc explained Mustang's special abilities to him.

 

A slow smile crawled across Spike's face. “Get in,” he said to Havoc.

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

Mustang was leaning against the foundation of the porch, staring up at the sky. The rest of the officers were gathered either on the porch itself, or inside the house. Except for Hawkeye, who was sitting on the porch steps next to him.

 

The atmosphere was relaxed on the surface, but he knew his officers well enough to hear some of the concern in their voices. He also knew Havoc had snuck off to the ship to visit with Spike. That was just fine with him, as far as he was concerned. If it meant keeping that loose cannon calm, he was willing to allow a little fraternization.

 

He heard the thunder before he saw the craft. A moment later, it landed in front of him, and Spike jumped out. The man looked about, then dashed over to the rain barrel. Havoc jumped out, and looked a bit shaken from the ride.

 

“Lieutenant, care to explain?” Mustang asked.

 

Havoc looked over at Spike, who was returning, then at Mustang and shrugged.

 

Before he had a chance to brace himself, Spike threw a bucket of cold water on him, then pulled his gun.

 

Hawkeye, and the other officers had heard the commotion, and had gathered. Hawkeye, true to form, had her gun aimed right at Spike head.

 

Mustang remained calm.

 

“We're going for a little ride, Colonel,” Spike said.

 

Hawkeye pulled the hammer back. “Drop the weapon, Spike,” she said.

 

Spike's eyes never left Mustang, but he said, “You can pull the trigger, but by the time that bullet hits me, your Colonel will have his brains splattered all over this wall. You willing to take that chance?”

 

“Lower your weapon, Lieutenant,” Mustang said.

 

“Sir?”

 

Spike pulled the hammer back on his gun. It made a very audible click, and a point.

 

Hawkeye lowered her weapon.

 

Instantly, Spike snagged the gun from her hand, as he shoved his own into the back of his pants. He checked the weight and the sight. “Nice piece. I think I'll borrow this, if you don't mind.” Then he gestured with the stolen gun for Mustang to get into the craft.

 

The Colonel was nonplussed. He just cocked a brow as he passed Spike, and climbed in the back of the craft.

 

As Spike followed, Havoc leaned in and said with a laugh, “Jeeze, you probably could've just asked him.”