Prompt 238: Hypnotic - Foreseeable Fate
Title: Foreseeable Fate
Author: drummerdancer
Series: AU
Characters/Pairings: Jean, Riza, Envy (disguised as Edward), mentions of Maes Hughes and Roy/Riza
Word Count: 1438
Rating: T
Summary: He'd had dreams like this before.
Bullets fired like a metronome, one after another, a succession that neither stopped nor started but was a constant stream of violence. In a way, it was beautiful, like an art perhaps. As Jean Havoc watched from afar, the term beautiful seemed to resonate even more the closer he got to the source of the stream. Her long blonde hair, pulled back into her classic bun, reflected sunlight like diamonds in the rough as she fired shot after shot at the dummy, each piercing the target between the eyes. There was no mistaking her talent; it could've been her middle name. But that wasn't the only reason Havoc couldn't keep his eyes off the Hawk.
No; there was something else about her, about today, that had Havoc entranced in a sort of hypnotism, like a moth drawn to a light. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed that the Lieutenant was pretty; he'd known that since the first day he'd laid eyes on her, back when he was assigned to Mustang's team for the first time. Even then, with her hair cropped in a style similar to a boy's, there was no mistaking the feminine beauty the new recruit had. But he'd always kept his distance before, both out of respect to the rules and because he already knew where her heart lay. It didn't bother him in the slightest; what woman would choose the college drop-out, cigarette addict to the charming and intelligent new state alchemist Roy Mustang? Hell, he'd even pick the Colonel over himself!
No; it wasn't attraction in the romantic sense that he was feeling. It was attraction in the sixth sense, like a snake coiled in the bottom of his throat. He couldn't explain it exactly; he lacked both the vocabulary and finesse that the Colonel had. But watching Riza shoot, laid out flat on her chest, made uneasiness wash over him. She could defend herself in battle, Havoc knew first hand, but just laying there, completely defenseless from behind? Anybody with half a brain and a few bullets could easily sneak up on the female, rifle in hand, pretending to have come to the shooting range for practice, and bam! It'd be over, just like that.
Havoc shook his head nervously and wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. He needed to calm down, stay focused. He couldn't let that dream distract him now, not while he was on watch. Riza wasn't going to die; she was going to be okay! That man wasn't going to come today, or tomorrow, or any other day of the week. He was made up, an illusion brought on by heavy drinking and restless sleep. He just had to wait and see for his own ey--
A sudden flash of a black coat and hat assaulted Havoc's peripherals as he turned his head to the left. 'No; it can't be!' he wanted to scream. There was absolutely no way, no fucking way--that had been a dream! The man in his dreams didn't exist!
But, as much as his mind tried to convince him that the sight before his eyes wasn't happening and was actually a waking daydream-turned-nightmare, Havoc's blue eyes weren't lying. As cold dread the shape of a snake wrapped around his windpipe in a cruel sort of disability, Havoc tried to yell at Riza, tell her to run, anything to get her to look behind her!
Instead, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips fell to the ground, and the man began to choke. 'Oh no! He wasn't going to make it in time!' his mind screamed. Scrambling to his feet, Havoc ran like hell itself was fast on his heels. He ran, hoping that for once, he could actually save the Lieutenant, that his nightmare wouldn't become reality. He ran, ever aware that the closer he got, the closer the masked man got as well.
He was raising his rifle now. It was one of the ones available for checkout in the shooting range. God, did nobody I.D. these people? Riza, none the wiser, continued her endless stream of bullets, never suspecting that the very weapon she loved was about to be fired into the back of her skull. Panic set in like the plague as Havoc ran, wishing beyond reason that he didn't smoke and could run faster. Havoc promised himself, if he could get Riza out alive, if he could just reach her in time, he would never pick up one of those damn cancer sticks ever again. Just please, let him do this one thing right!
The stream of bullets continued in their hypnotic, never ending tirade of sound as Havoc touched the man's shoulder. Good; he'd made it! He gripped the right shoulder hard, intent on turning the body around and delivering a little present in the form of his fist. Instead, he was met with solid metal, a kind that would neither yield nor bend to his yanking. In fact, the body in front of him was unresponsive to his protests, like a wall made of bricks. He yanked and pulled, his relief fleeting as he realized he hadn't halted the stranger's movements. Shit; this man was like a freaking cyborg or something! A hulking, massive wall of--
No; that wasn't right, he slowly realized. The body wasn't big at all in fact; it was small, lean, the body of a fighter. And the hair, a color he'd always assumed was as dark as his trench coat, was actually lighter. In fact...it was blond!
"Ed...?" he spoke, glad and at the same time terrified that his voice was back. The figure, who's jacket was actually at waist level, turning his head slowly. The gold eyes said it all; he knew not a soul that had eyes like the Fullmetal Alchemist. Horrified, Havoc could only freeze in unadulterated fear as a malicious smile crept upon the face he knew so well. Grinning his teeth in a smile fit for a wild animal, Ed shook off the rest of his disguise.
“Wha-what’re you--?” The words caught in his throat like insects in a web, cacooned and wrapped in blind fear and confusion. This was Edward--no, Ed, the boy he’d known since he was twelve. The stubborn hothead who everybody in the office got a kick out of teasing. The young man determined to fix his brother. The Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, who vowed never to take a life, damnit, especially of someone they all knew and cared about!
“Ed--no, you can’t!” Havoc yelled, but the eyes were hazy now, unfocused. The automail arm was moving of its own accord, like a magnet drawn to another magnet. And Riza’s head was the compliment to Ed’s gun as he pointed the tip at his target. Eyes full of gold and--was that a shade of purple?--locked onto Havoc’s as his lips curled into that rotted smile.
“Looks like this’ll make it two for me,” he said darkly. And then, for a split second, the sound was doubled in magnitude as two shots were fired simultaneously, followed by nothing at all. Nothing but the blood in Havoc’s ears and the silent scream coming from his throat. Nothing; he felt nothing. Nothing but a never-ending ringing of silence that was as hypnotic as the bullets fired by his friend.
Then, the ringing began to multiply, began to get louder. It was raising him up; he was floating. Wha-where was he going? His friend--Riza! She was dead! He had to go back, had to fucking kill that son of a bitch! But his hands only met air that was soft as silk, and sheets that were sweat-laced and tear stained. And, as he got one last glimpse of the monster he thought was a comrade, Havoc’s vision blurred and the gold hair was suddenly replaced with the black he was familiar with. Yes; that was right. The cloaked figure did have black hair after all!
Opening his eyes, Havoc cursed. He was back in his bedroom again. Back in reality. Back in a world where Riza Hawkeye was alive and Edward Elric wasn’t a killer.
The relief that should’ve came didn’t. As Havoc wiped his eyes and pulled the covers off his tired body, a sinking feeling began to strangle him.
He had had dreams like this before.
“Looks like this’ll make it two for me.”
Havoc knew who he was talking about.
Maes Hughes.
That creature had killed him.
Havoc had seen it happen the night before his death.