Fanfiction Remnant

[Darkest of Days]

Timothy kept his flashlight poised on the center of the street, scanning the alleyways with a simple glance and not bothering to investigate any noises or movements he caught. The lulling light of Headquarters glimmered above the blank and sterile city buildings, beckoning them to return to its warmth.
“Stupid dumb-ass Havoc for making us come out,” he cursed immaturely under his breath. His uniform was already soaked through and his umbrella had blown away long ago with the sharp gusts of wind. But there was only a few streets left to scan and he would be home free. He watched the single, slim area illuminated by the flashlight in anticipation when suddenly he felt a knot in his throat and paused. The steady stream of water running down the road had suddenly become crimson, stains within the crystalline fluid. He could suddenly smell the stench of blood in the air, and he froze in terror.
His eyes quickly fell on the sufferer, a lone figure resting against the wall of a building nearby, huddled in the shadows and allowing the blood to flow down and away from them. Timothy approached swiftly, dropping his flashlight out of haste onto the pavement.
“Are you all right? My God what’s happened to you?” he said, his once sparked temper melting away with the sudden urgency at hand, but the figure didn’t respond. Timothy wrenched the small first aid kit they carried around from his pocket through he knew it wouldn’t do much good. “Were you shot? Who did this to you?”
The figure was still only barely visible to him, but moved as he stepped closer, suddenly feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise for some inexplicable reason. Something wasn’t right, he’d seen men shot and stabbed before and all of them cried out at least weakly in pain, but this person wasn’t making a sound. He fiddled with a roll of gauze as he continued to move closer though he felt the fear coursing through him.
“Master Sergeant Timothy Marcoh Jr., the Illusion Alchemist,” came a voice suddenly, dark and strangely level against the thundering rain and assumed physical agony. It took a moment before this unnecessary remark struck him, and as he looked up finally the flashlight rolled slightly down the street, shedding light into the once bleak alleyway.
“How the hell do you know my na-oh shit,” he said, just barely dodging being grabbed by the outstretched hand. He had heard he was fast, but before he could even land properly he was struck hard in the stomach, knocking all the air out of him in one swift blow. He coughed out a thin stream of blood with the impact and was instantly wrapped in a self-embrace, forced to his knees and into a murky pool of water. He looked up to see a figure that had only existed in his darkest nightmares before this moment.
“You got a lot of nerve, attacking someone who was trying to help you…” he said, feeling suddenly nauseous and disoriented from the wound he has suffered.
“No amount of pity or common decency can ever make up for the sins of the State,” Scar replied, his voice monotone. Timothy was kicking himself now; why hadn’t he noticed it was the infamous Alchemist Killer? In the dark and the rain it had been so hard to see, and all that blood…
“You know I’m beginning to think you’ve got something against the world in general and you’re just taking it out on us,” Timothy spat, feeling the situation weighing down upon him oppressively. He had to make time for himself if he had any hope of escaping.
“And I believe that you write off your sins as mistakes and nothing more. There must be retributions for what has been done, if only to protect the lives of the innocent the State may target next, which will undoubtedly happen someday,” Scar retaliated, suddenly attempting to reach for him once again.
But Timothy had anticipated it this time, and before Scar could reach him he lunged backwards, this time off to the side slightly so his moves were a bit harder to predict. He landed more gracefully this time as well, placing one hand against the brick wall he stood beside as the other hung casually.
“Damn you’re fast for such a big guy; shouldda listened when Mustang was giving us a briefing on your stats. Guess I’m gonna have to show you why I’m called the Illusion Alchemist,” he said, and Scar suddenly noticed that something was pressed between the boy’s hand and the wall, seeping into it with the rain. It was a paper talisman with a transmutation circle scribbled on it, and suddenly the alchemic energy sparked and surrounded them both, blindingly bright for a moment before subsiding.
Scar saw Timothy still slumped there, seeming unable to move with his anguish and continual terror. “It seems you have failed alchemist, now perish!” he lunged forward, reaching out to grab at him before he could retreat.
But suddenly his hand passed right through Timothy’s face, his image fluctuating just as a clicking noise came from behind him. Scar turned with a vicious glare as Timothy aimed straight between his blood-red eyes.
“Die you bastard!” he shouted, firing several rounds before he had time to hesitate. He had had a clear shot, but was utterly surprised to see Scar dodge all of his bullets unscathed. The shards of metal embedded themselves into the wall behind the killer and he countered his aggression immediately.
Scar reached out and snatched his regulation handgun from him before he had the time to blink. Timothy gasped as he watched the metal turn to into a fine silver dust that Scar allowed to be carried away by the wind, looking down upon him mercilessly where he was crouched down on bended knee, almost like an ironic proposal for death.
“Your resistance has been made in vain.”
“Oh, I’ll give you resistance you murderer,” he said through gritted teeth, suddenly pressing a thick stack of talismans against the ground this time. In another burst of energy the talismans absorbed into the ground and there was suddenly an entire slew of Timothy’s standing around Scar, smiling cockily at him as he observed the effect with a gaze as though he had expected this.

[Darkest of Days]

“Feeling a bit confused? Replication is my specialty after all,” all of them said; even the sound was mimicked so all of them spoke independently, though the sound of like the chorus of an undead choir, lacking in human resonance.
But his expression quickly faded as a faint smile appeared on Scar’s face. “You are very childish. I do not bring about divine justice without first learning of the powers of such sin.” Scar suddenly rushed forward, aimed towards a specific ‘image’ of the alchemist. All at once they all cowered, and he nearly snatched Timothy’s collar before the boy leapt away once more with a messy landing. His slight grin remained; the boy looked entirely transformed with the terror running across his face; he was not at the advantage as he had hoped. The false emulates all vanished from around them as Timothy’s concentration was broken.
“But how…?”
“Your technique has several fatal flaws. You can mimic only one generic image of yourself and couldn’t take into account the wounds you’ve sustained; there was no blood on those false replicas of yourself. You use the reflective surfaces around us to project these images as well; but the bricks of the building you are standing next to cannot do so and thus there are no illusions positioned there. And you cannot create artificial shadows either, so only you cast one.”
Timothy was shaking now, and slowly backing away like a caged animal trying to escape the hand that would euthanize it. There was so much blood gurgling up his throat that he couldn’t taste it anymore, and he was all but weaponless now that Scar had discovered the shortcomings of his alchemy.
“Dammit, this just isn’t fair. I strain myself half to death through all those tests and obstacles only to be killed a few days into being a certified alchemist,” Timothy spat, backing away to match the footsteps Scar took towards him. The Ishbalan was the closest thing Timothy had ever imagined to being a demon; the red eyes and apathy only enhanced this further.
“You should pray for your sins during these last moments of life.”
“These aren’t going to be my last damn moments of life you repulsive Ishbalan bastard!” Timothy leapt up from the ground and did the only thing he could.
Run for his life.
Still in slight anguish it was hard to sprint; if he had been at full strength there might have been a prayer of getting away. But he had to rely on turning corners to gain ground considering Scar was always but a few steps behind him, and finally the Alchemist killer tired of chasing him through the chaotic labyrinth of alleyways and abandoned streets.
Scar pressed his right hand to the ground and his tattoo began to grow. Timothy turned back just in time to see the crimson energy flow into the asphalt and surged towards him, ripping apart every molecule in its path. Before the alchemist could even react, a jagged split appeared in the ground before him and his right foot fell into it. He watched as the stone morphed around his ankle, trapping him there and shattering the bone as it shifted. He let out a strangled scream and tumbled backwards onto his back.
"This is so unfair dammit! The one night those jerks back at HQ send me out on patrol and I somehow run into you,” his aggressiveness was shallow however, as a fearful tear streaked down his cheek and he sat up, staring at his soon-to-be murderer. “God, I don’t think you’re even human.”
“I could say the same for many whom you’ve decided to call your allies,” Scar said, standing but a few feet in front of him.
“I’m so tired of hearing that bullshit, not everyone in the military is responsible for those horrible crimes. Ishbal and Lior…they’re disgusting military operations but it’s not as though I or any of my generation of soldiers and alchemists have participated in them!” Timothy shouted angrily, cringing as his nerves were set aflame when he attempted moving his leg.
“And who is to say these genocides will not continue with your generation?”
“We’re not that kind of people, if you could only see my friends…”
“I have seen them; your training grounds are not as secure as you believe them to be.”
“That certainly explains the fallen wall in the back. Guess people were too afraid to admit it was you; they blamed it on age.”
“You have made your choice to ally yourself to the blasphemous State, and thus you shall pay for the culmination of its vice,” Scar began reaching forward for Timothy once more, thought not as fiercely since he couldn’t escape his fate this time.
“This God of yours, Ishbala isn’t it?” Scar paused as Timothy said this. There was a madness suddenly in the boy’s fearful eyes as death was upon him. “He sounds more like a filthy demon to me if you’re doing this bidding for him. It’s not a deity I’d give any goddamn praise to; I’d rather accept the void after death…”
Scar’s expression suddenly distorted into one of immeasurable hate, and he seized Timothy first by the throat, wrenching him into the air. His right hand came onto his head with a monstrous swipe, and the pressure itself felt powerful enough to make Timothy’s brain erupt. His windpipe was crushed within the Ishbalan’s hand, and he could hardly breathe.
“If that is so then it is pointless of me to allow you a moment of prayer; it is obvious from your filthy and abominable language that no holiness can penetrate the darkness in your heart. You may not be amongst the true guilty of the military, but I can see how easily you could become just like them. But regardless I shall pray for your soul Timothy,” Scar said in a deadly tone, and Timothy closed his eyes as he felt death approach. It was so near he could feel its cold, emotionless touch upon him, channeling through Scar’s hand down through the rest of him.
And he would have died then if not for the call that went out into the night, catching both their attentions.
“Timothy! Are you all right?!” came Laura’s shouts from over the rooftops.