The Gunslinger Alchemist (Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction)

"You're a long way from Riviere," Carlyle said with a smirk as he pushed the barrel of his revolver into the gunman's forehead.

"Y-you don't frighten me, military dog," the gunman said, though his point was undercut somewhat by his faltering voice.

"Military dog, eh? So you know I'm a State Alchemist, and you still attacked us?"

Just as Carlyle reached the end of his sentence, the gunman with the wounded wrist began to shout something. The man clearly intended to speak a word, but he was only able to get two letters into his proclamation before Hotchkiss silenced him with a firm hand clamped over the mouth. An instant later, Carlyle pressed his hand to the wounded gunman, and the faint spark of transmutation arced between his hand and the gunman's arm.

"What did you do to him?" the second gunman asked as his comrade slowly drifted into a drug-induced sleep.

"Don't worry about it," Carlyle said with a menacing edge to his voice. "Usually, I'd use this opportunity to tell you exactly how the R.L.F. is the dumbest of all terrorist organizations in our country, but I don't have the time since there are clearly more of you. I'll get straight to the point. How many of you are on this train? Why are you here?"

"I'll never…"

Carlyle cut off the man's denial with a question asked in a casual tone. "How much do you weigh?"

"Wh-what? Why?"

The State Alchemist flexed his gloved fingers at the frightened man. "I'm about to dose you with sodium thiopental, also known as 'truth serum.' In larger doses, this drug is used to execute criminals, so I need to make sure I don't use too much."

"N-no." The gunman looked like he was about to vomit. He clearly did not have the calm disposition for this line of work. "Y-you don't have to do that! I-I'll tell you everything!"

"Good," Carlyle said, pulling back his glove. "Now, speak."

"There are five men from the R.L.F. and seven people from some other group that calls themselves 'the Order.' We identify them by the specific symbol they always carry around in some form. It's, uh, it's kind of hard to explain."

"Make an attempt," Carlyle ordered.

"O-okay. The symbol is like a staff with two snakes and a bird."

Even with that poor explanation, Carlyle immediately recognized the symbol. Any alchemist worth his salt would recognize that esoteric symbol on sight.

"The symbol of Hermes Trismegistus," Carlyle muttered.

"Who?" Hotchkiss asked.

"He was a student of the Philosopher of the East, the man who brought alchemy to Amestris in the 1400s. His symbol is a caduceus with an ibis sitting atop it, a mixture of the iconography of two ancient gods of knowledge, Hermes and Thoth. Alchemists call this symbol the bird of Hermes."

"Uh huh," Hotchkiss said to cover up his lack of understanding. "So it's an alchemical symbol."

"Yes, it's…" Carlyle cut himself off. He was annoyed that most of his explanation went over the other two men's heads. When he stopped to calm himself for a moment, however, he realized that there was much significance in the fact that the symbol of this "Order" was alchemical in nature. A group of alchemists was working with an anti-Amestrian terrorist organization. Now, where had he heard that before?

"Tell me more about that other organization," Carlyle quickly asked the prisoner.

"All nine of them are alchemists, apparently," the gunman said, and Carlyle groaned in annoyance. "We were told that only two of them are good enough to use alchemy in a fight, though."

"Among these alchemists, is one of them a woman with long red hair?"

"Yes! The two combat alchemists aren't subtle people, so the higher-ups were worried about letting them join this mission. As if the tattooed woman in the tank top was not obvious enough, the other alchemist is even stranger."

"Yeah, skilled alchemists are always weird people. Normal people just don't have the irregular perspective and neurotic hyper-focus required to grasp alchemy with enough clarity," Carlyle admitted. He glared at Hotchkiss as the Lieutenant's lips turned upward in a shadow of a smile.

"Get to the motive," Carlyle said as he waved the barrel of his revolver in the gunman's face.

"R-right, umm, we're all after you, Colonel Carlyle."

"Explain," Carlyle sighed.

"The R.L.F. wants to take you hostage, and the Order wants to take back the notes you stole from them."

Hotchkiss glared angrily at the mention of the word "steal," and the gunman slinked back in fear. The Order was once again after Kimblee's notes, Carlyle remarked mentally as his hand reflexively brushed against the folded notes held within his coat pocket. It was strange, he thought. Why were they putting so much effort into acquiring the Crimson Alchemist's documents when they knew enough to tattoo the applicable transmutation circles on a woman's palms?

The facts regarding this organization of rogue alchemists wasn't adding up, but Carlyle pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. The insurgents could answer his questions once they were all defeated and locked in a stockade with their hands bound in such a way to prevent transmutation.

"Well, you have been a huge help," Carlyle said with a smile. "I'll tell the police about this, and you might get out of prison in a year or two."

"But…"

Carlyle grabbed the gunman by the neck, and he swiftly performed a subtle bit of medical alchemy. With the slightest expenditure of will, Carlyle created a single milligram of etorphine inside of the gunman's jugular. In a single heartbeat, the powerful sedative was washed into the man's brain, and he was unconscious within seconds.

Seeing that no one else seemed keen on bothering the two soldiers, they began to drag the two unconscious gunmen into their personal room. As Hotchkiss laid one of the men down on a bench he had been sitting on a few minutes before, he asked Carlyle a question.

"Truth serum, eh? I didn't know it was real."

"It's not," Carlyle said, smirking. "Good thing he bought my bluff."