The Gunslinger Alchemist (Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction)

Slowly, Carlyle gestured for Hotchkiss to open the door to the last passenger car. Without showing any part of his body to anyone standing inside of the car, Hotchkiss slid the heavy metal door open and held it open as the high-speed wind caused his uniform to flutter in the wind.

"You know," Carlyle said as he began reloading his revolver, "I have much bigger problems to deal with right now. Believe it or not, your little organization of rogue alchemists is the third or fourth item on my to-do list. How about this? Because I have bigger problems, I'll give you the opportunity to escape. If you let us through, I'll just detach your train car, and you can run away once you run out of momentum."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Colonel," Erasmus called out, a subtle chuckle hiding in the corner of his spoken words. "We need those notes. Millions could die without the information included therein."

Carlyle squinted in confusion over at Hotchkiss, and the Lieutenant returned his look with a shrug. "What do you mean?" Carlyle asked. "How can the notes of a bomb maker save lives?"

"It's somewhat hard to understand you, friend. Why don't you step inside the cabin so that we can have a conversation like respectable gentlemen? On my honor as an alchemist, I promise not to attack until our dialogue has ended."

Colonel Carlyle paused for a long moment before making a decision. Slowly, he rose from his kneeling position, and he stepped into the cabin. After a few seconds, he could tell from the cautious footsteps behind him that Hotchkiss had followed him into the lion's den.

The entirety of the final passenger car had been remade with alchemy. The upholstered wooden benches that passengers used as seats had been completely removed, and all that remained was the hollow metal shell that comprised the exterior of the train cabin. In the center of the cabin was a large steel pillar that was decorated with a fresco made of colored glass, and an eccentrically dressed man stood beside the pillar.

After a moment, Carlyle realized that the image of the man he saw was actually a reflection, and the eccentric alchemist was actually standing behind the pillar. Like an illusion from a house of mirrors, Carlyle had to strain his senses to determine Erasmus's true position. Beyond the pillar and the mirror, nearly a dozen playing cards had been scattered throughout the cabin. It was hard to tell at a distance, but Carlyle soon realized that each of the playing cards was marked with a complicated transmutation circle. The cards were scattered haphazardly throughout the cabin, so it would be quite difficult to walk across the cabin without stepping on one of the playing cards.

Regarding Erasmus himself, his appearance truly lived up to his "magician" moniker. He wore the red-and-black uniform of a stage magician, though his formal attire was supplemented with a long cape, a black top hat, and a bone white mask that covered half of his face. If not for the obvious signs of recent complicated acts of transmutation, Carlyle would have been convinced that Erasmus was a fraud who only pretended to be a skilled alchemist. As it was, Carlyle only had to take a glance to realize that he was the real deal, despite all appearances.

The fresco on the pillar caught Carlyle's attention just as much as the rogue alchemist's eccentric clothing. It depicted two men speaking to another. One, a blond man in ancient robes, raised his hand as if speaking passionately. The other, a man leaning against a caduceus upon which stood an ibis, leaned forward to the blond man as if listening intently.

In an instant, Carlyle recognized the listener as Hermes Trismegistus. The fresco clearly depicted the relationship as a student and teacher, so Carlyle was able to deduce that the blond man must have been the teacher of Hermes Trismegistus, the Philosopher of the East.

Deciding to wait for an opportunity to strike, Carlyle lowered his revolver and said, "So that's the symbol of your 'Order,' right? Hermes Trismegistus and the Philosopher of the East? I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your portrayal of the Philosopher is wrong. He's from the East. You know, Xing? He wouldn't have blond hair."

"That's a common misconception," Erasmus said with an annoyingly undisturbed smile. "One would naturally assume that the Father of Alchemy was Xingese, but all eye-witness reports of people who met him say the same thing: that he had golden hair and eyes."

A moment of realization hit Carlyle like a truck, though he tried mightily not to let it show on his face. He had completely forgotten that the Philosopher of the East frequently went by another title: the Father of Alchemy. Father.

Colonel Carlyle recalled the testimony of Elias Miller. A blond man dressed in ancient white robes who went by the name 'Father' had died in Central on April 4th.

No, that was impossible, he thought. The Philosopher of the East would be nearly five hundred years old if that were true. It was possible, however, if the ancient stories about the Philosopher's Stone could be believed. According to legend, the Philosopher's Stone could do two things in defiance of the law of Equivalent Exchange: transmute lead into gold and make someone immortal.

That would be a problem for later, Carlyle thought as he cleared his mind and returned to the present. He could not act on that realization if this magician killed him in the next few minutes.

"Explain yourself," Carlyle demanded. "How can you use Kimblee's notes to save lives?"

As Carlyle said the words "Kimblee's notes," he reached into a deep pocket in his overcoat and withdrew a large leather-bound parcel wrapped around nearly a hundred folded pieces of paper.

"You brought them," Erasmus said with a wolfish grin. "Good. There is a conspiracy in this country to harm its denizens in furtherance of a malevolent goal."

"Sounds like politics," Carlyle muttered, and Hotchkiss let out a snort of laughter. "If you want to convince me, you need to be a lot more specific."