Feast, For What Matters Now Is Black (part 1)
[Fullmetal Alchemist-Zombie Apocalypse AU]
CW: Horror, Zombification, Eating Offal/Raw Meat
It
buries its mouth in a large bowl situated on the floor, desperately working through a mound of pork when visitors enter the room.
Four humans. They gasp at the sight of it. One of them turns away to retch in a corner.
It couldn’t fathom the expressions on their faces, couldn’t understand what they see, what exactly they’re looking at. (In fact, aside from eating and eating, it hasn’t been thinking much at all lately.)
A few seconds of this before one of the humans takes a tentative step forward, glove at the ready, before bravely going for another. “Fullmetal?” The human asks, reaching out the other hand, a shaking hand. (Whether by fear or anger, there’s no certain answer on why the hand shakes.) “It’s me. Roy Mustang.” The black eyes of the human blink faster the longer they linger on its own ones. “We’ve...come to rescue you and your brother.”
And ‘Fullmetal’—
—returns to its meal.
‘Fullmetal’ is more interested now in gutting animals alive and eating brains raw, rather than in the metal thing constantly wringing leather hands around, calling it ‘Brother,’ wiping its bloody chin for it with the fraying edge of a loincloth.
--
“No, Brother.” Al pulls his shredded limb away from the mindless gnawing. Ed, for all his genius, never seems to learn. “Argh, I’m not your chew toy! We’ve been over this.”
With his other hand, Al slightly pulls at the leash that he’s transmuted to keep Ed in line, initially for reining him in from running off to chase after other potential survivors like them. Nowadays, the leash also serves as a physical link, a tug-based communication, the only way Al could signal what he’d want Ed to do, and a way for Ed to get Al to follow him when he becomes insistent enough to go towards a certain direction.
The leash is connected to leather straps digging across his brother’s chest in a giant X, like a warning sign for onlookers to stay back. Or maybe as some kind of branding to remind him—remind everyone that his brother’s become something that should never have existed. Al hates the idea of it. His brother is still his brother, with fiery golden eyes that soften like warm lamplight whenever they see him. He looks down.
Disease coats Ed’s eyes with a milky white film. Fitting, considering how Ed considers milk to be the most toxic substance there is, a poison to the body. Al supposes that there is some kind of metaphor in that, in how humans would keep drinking the things that make them sick until they’re immune.
But it’s alright! The sun still sets in the evening, one plus one is two, Ed is still Ed, his brother is still his brother.
Ed reaches for his leathery hand again, mouth already watering. Al’s surroundings swim and his armor body slightly buckles, startling his brother into letting go.
Al steadies himself, sighing. He really needs to find something to feed to Ed soon.
Central’s been under lockdown for over two months now though, keeping the infestation contained, with little to no fresh food coming in. He and Ed would shadow the steps of butcher shops they are familiar with, only to discover that a good deal of them has closed down, and more have been ransacked by looters.
Al’s lucked out a few weeks ago anyhow, and managed to store enough to fill three iceboxes. But supplies dwindle, forcing them to do a thorough sweep of the streets once more.
“It’s going to be alright,” he assures Ed, fully knowing that he’ll only receive harsh growling as response. “It’s possible they’re doing all the food trading underground. We’ll just have to find out where, okay?”
Al considers for a moment, looking around, then kneels down to release Ed from his bonds. It takes his brother a little nudging, but once Ed has realized that he’s temporarily free, begins to amble along a certain path while sniffing the air.
And Al follows behind him, turning his helmet this way and that as he keeps an eye on rooftops and glass windows, ready to jump and shield his brother if so much as a barrel of a rifle peeks out.
He turns back to the sight of Ed stopping in the middle of an alleyway and watching him from the corner of his eye.
So he watches back as well, observing. They’ve done this strange dance several times before.
For a long moment, Ed would stand still, frozen in time, doing nothing. Wisps of wind play around with the stray hairs of his big brother’s braid and the tattered hem of his big brother’s coat, taunting them both with how everything seems more animated compared to the stillness of Ed’s chest.
His big brother would then return to his ambling, but every couple of steps he would halt and glance back, as if dully surprised that armor is still following him around, before continuing on with his journey.
Al sounds a sigh. He knows Ed doesn’t understand why.
Ed will never understand why.
11 notes
·
View notes