(Untitled)

[edmuse]

There is a thoroughly emo Ed.

He is hiding.

Someone should tell him that the roof is where everybody comes to emo, and that he's not safe here. Duh.

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[not_his_son]

Jason's here to emo too. He's stalking around like a great prat, kicking things, lip curled sullenly.

He has a strong kick. It's possible bits of rubble are flying too close to Ed.

[not_his_son]

Luckily, Jason's good at thinking fast. He drops, but he lunges forward and catches the far edge of the hole.

And then he's coming back out of it, fast and airborne. COMING FOR YOUR HEAD, YOU LITTLE BITCH.

[edmuse]

....oh crap! This is Ed, claping his hand and touching the floor again, as he realizes the guy is RECOVERING.

Jason, welcome to WALLSVILLE, population YOU.

[not_his_son]

Jason goes wtf behind the mask, hooking one hand over the edge of the wall as it shoots up. This, predictably, means he gets slammed into it.

That's okay. When it's finished growing, he yanks himself up to crouch on the top of it, like an oversized vulture in black leather and stompy boots.

"The fuck do you think you are, kid?"

[edmuse]

"Who was throwing rocks first?" Ed asks, brow arching. "You just found somebody who could throw bigger rocks, is all. I'd take you down a peg, 'cept my leg's not what it could be."

He is standing oddly now, like his left leg is somehow-- off kilter. Something's amiss here-- the weight on the ankle is all wrong.

"So, now that you're assured you're not the baddest of the bad, why don't you go play nice with someone who isn't going to school you?"

The sad part, Jason?

Ed would have made a fantastic Robin.

[not_his_son]

How's Ed at catching little, lethally sharp sparkly things? Jason's just flicked a handful, apparently with no effort, all aimed to hurt more than to kill.

They'd flash in the sun as he released them, if there was any sun. Since there isn't, there's just a neat row of spinning blades, that'll ideally end up with a neat row of matching slices in a neat line up and down Ed's side.

[edmuse]

Strangely-- he takes it.

In fact, he lets them lacerate his right side....

Only there's no blood.

Just the dull gleam of battered metal, and a narrowing of golden eyes as he reaches over with his other hand, and jerks hard against the cloth; it rips asunder easily, revealing a fleshless limb, gears and gunmetal gray...

"I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist, asshole. It may not mean anything to you -- but the name's hard earned."

[not_his_son]

Jason's lip curls, in dark amusement.

"Already been beaten a few times, huh? Wouldn't be proud of a name like that if I was you, short-ass."

[edmuse]

Edward smirks. "A shortsighted person might think that," he says. "This is the price for challenging God in His own domain. The cost on a sinner's body. You?"

He snorts, purely derisive. "You're small fry, chump. Get in line."

[not_his_son]

"Man, and I thought I had an ego." Jason's still perched on the wall, as comfortable in that low crouch as if he's in an armchair. "You lost, and now you're half robot, and you're proud of it?"

[edmuse]

"I did what nobody else could do," he says. "The rest isn't your business."

So there.

[not_his_son]

"Sure."

He's still smirking. And now he thinks he's found a sore point.

"Whatever you say."

[edmuse]

Edward isn't giving an inch.

"So, you gonna flitter off yet?" He claps his hands, and then reaches out to touch the wall; it is dust beneath Jason in a matter of seconds, changing from solid to broken down tarmac and woodbits in the blink on an eye.

[not_his_son]

That's okay; Jason's watching for the handclap now. Twice is enough to learn. So he's prepared when the wall vanishes beneath his feet, and just lands lightly in front of Ed in a cloud of dust.

(It satisfies his penchant for dramatics, too.)

"Listen, kid, you're really starting to piss me off."

[edmuse]

"You pissed me off a while back, so that makes us even," Edward points out helpfully. "So why don't we agree that we're mutually aggravating and not bother each anymore? You can't beat me, and I'm betting you think I can't beat you. And right now-- you might even be correct. I do have a busted leg."

So, fair's fair! Fuck off, Jason!

[not_his_son]

Jason doesn't care about busted legs. He happily picks on invalids.

... It's also possible, although there's no way in hell he'd admit it, or even think it loudly, that the kid might be harder to beat than Jason thought at first. He still thinks he can do it. He'd just ... want time to plan ahead, first.

But he's not backing down, either. His stance shifts slightly - a little less aggression - and he just raises an eyebrow at Ed, behind the mask.