//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: The New Skin // Story: Friendship is Magic; Damnation is Alchemy // by AnonymousCardCaptor //------------------------------// Friendship is Magic; Damnation is Alchemy By Anonymous Card Captor My Little Pony-Friendship is Magic is created by Lauren Faust and owned by Hasbro Studios. Fullmetal Alchemist is created by Hiromu Arakawa. All other characters are the creation of the author. All thoughts or anything read by a character is in italics. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 2: The New Skin “Who the hell do you think you are?!? Call *me* ‘a dumb animal’ will ya!” The Other Sinclair sneered. Real Sinclair tried to speak, but the bridle held his mouth shut. The Other Sinclair ripped the bridle off regardless of the real possibility of pulling out Real Sinclair’s new teeth in the process. “Whadda got to say for yourself, huh?” “I didn’t know you were a human chimera, I swear. If you only said something befo...” The Other Sinclair back-handed him. “How conceited you humans are? I’ve never been one of you,” the Other Sinclair said as stared at his new hands with a bit of wonderment, “until tonight.” He opened and closed his hand and then bent each finger one by one to see if they can move independently from the rest of the fingers. ‘You humans’ were the words the Other Sinclair spoke that shook the Real Sinclair to the core. What could this creature be that speaks the human tongue but never been human? A homunculus? The Other Sinclair looked the Real Sinclair over. He cautiously walked to the Real Sinclair’s fireplace. This was a new mode of locomotion for the Other Sinclair to walk only on his hind legs. He took hold of a hot poker and held it to the flame until it glowed hot. The Other Sinclair crept one foot in front of the other. “I can’t have you bleeding to death on me, not when there’s so much for me to learn,” he said. The last thing Real Sinclair remembered was his wounds being seared before passing out from the intensity of the pain. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Real Sinclair woke up with a sharp ache on both sides of his back. The Other Sinclair was sitting at a dinner table. In front of the Other Sinclair was a plate full of grass and flowers. He grimaced with each handful of the foliage that he took in his mouth. The second handful of grass was too much for the Other Sinclair to take and was expunged from his mouth. The Other Sinclair caught sight of the occupant in his former body watching him trying to eat. “Your grass taste awful.” He tried to eat the assortment of flowers that were picked from the garden next door. He spat those out as well. “These are the worst flowers I’ve ever had.” “Humans don’t eat those things. You’d starve to death if you tried. Our digestive tracts weren’t designed to process plant fibers.” “And what do you people eat?” “Humans are omnivores. We require a balanced diet of meat, vegetables, fruits, nuts, and processed grains.” “You things eat other animals?!? I was right about those being bones inside of that stuff the guards were eating on their break. You got any meat here?” “In the refrigerator,” Real Sinclair said in a groggy voice. He felt sore all over from last night’s ordeal. The Other Sinclair foraged around the refrigerator and found some sausage links. He sniffed them and took a bite. He let it roll around in his mouth and then gorged himself on the rest. “Is this meat?” The Other Sinclair asked as he stuffed another link in his mouth. “It comes from an animal called a pig.” “I know what pigs are, and this doesn’t look like any pig I’ve seen” “The meat is grounded and processed into that shape. And it’s supposed to be served warm.” “‘Served warmed’ you say? So this stuff can taste even better if I heat it up?” The Other Sinclair set the remaining links on the table and walked over to Sinclair, this time with more grace than before. He then grabbed Sinclair by the mane. “Tell me, what’s my name?” “Ouch!” Sinclair yelped out. “What are you talking about?” “I said ‘what’s my name’?” The Other Sinclair tapped Sinclair on the forehead. “Your name is Wind Racer, though you won’t be doing much racing without wings.” Wind Racer, the Other Sinclair, tapped himself on the chest. “Now, what’s my name?” He yanked Sinclair’s mane back. “Don’t make me get nasty with you. What’s my name?” “Your name is Douglas Sinclair.” “‘Douglas Sinclair’, huh? Sounds exotic. In fact, everything here is exotic, including that magic you used to switch our bodies. What did you call it again?” “Alchemy isn’t magic. It’s a science.” Wind Racer rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just teach it to me. Teach me everything about my new life. Again, Wind Racer yanked Sinclair by the mane. “Unless you want to go to Lab 2, but if you do as I say, I’ll take good care of you. Understood?” “But why? Why you want my life, my body?” “You ruined my old body with that experiment. Your body can’t fly either, but these ‘hands’ and your human magic make up for it. Now, do we have an understanding or not?” “We do,” said Sinclair remorsefully. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Two months later It was about eight in the afternoon. The chill early spring nights gave way to the hot, muggy nights of summer. Wind Racer had his feet on the kitchen table leaning back. He was dressed in his best pin-striped suit. Wind Racer didn’t keep his hair long and parted in the middle, as did Sinclair when he once occupied that body, but, instead, kept it short and spiky with a liberal amount of hair gel. Sitting by his feet was Sinclair. A chain ran from the wall to a collar around his neck. Sinclair read off questions from a practice exam for alchemists. “Now what is the difference between an acid and a base?” “An acid is a proton donor and a base is a proton accepter.” Wind Racer answered. “And which element has a higher ionization potential: chlorine or argon?” “It’s argon.” “Now, we’re done with the oral practice exam, it’s time to move on to transmutations. You should be able to get this one since this is your teacher’s specialty: transmute a non-ferrous metal into a magnetized ferrous metal with a field strength of 950 gauss.” Wind Racer etched a transmutation circle on the table and placed a coin in the center. The transmutation circle glowed with its familiar neon blue. The coin changed from a shiny yellow to a dark gray. “Now check your magnetometer to see if you got the proper field strength.” Wind Racer switched on a device with four gauges on it. The gauges read the numbers 0, 9, 4, and the third vibrated between 2 and 3. Sinclair pushed himself up on the table and glanced over the magnetometer. “That’s 942.5 gauss-well within the margin of error for a novice alchemist.” Wind Racer rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding right? Most novice alchemists have trouble creating a magnet, period.” “Just finish your lesson and return the metal back to its original state *without* drawing a brand new circle.” Wind Racer erased some of the runes and the inner pattern of the transmutation circle and drew new ones in their place. “As if I don’t know anything about inverse arrays,” he grumbled. Wind Racer placed the magnet inside the circle and transformed it back into a coin. “Apprentices are expected to excel in their teachers’ specific field of study.” Wind Racer slapped Sinclair on the cheek. “Know your place. I’m the alchemist," he said pointing to himself. "You’re just a...chimera...a chimera made by a second rate alchemist for a carnival side show.” Wind Racer turned his attentions to a knock at the front of the house. “We’ll talk about it later. Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Wind Racer said in a hushed but threatening tone. You’re not letting that one go, are you? Sinclair thought as Wind Racer was answering the door. He rubbed his sides a bit. He still felt the ache of his old wounds, but he’s been growing in strength. Since the day he lost his body to Wind Racer, Sinclair hasn’t be in a position to do anything other than capitulate to Wind Racer’s demands. “Hey Charlotte, what are you doing this late in the evening?” Wind Racer stepped aside as a woman in a black sleeveless dress strolled inside. She greeted Wind Racer with a deep kiss. “It’s been lonely without my favorite snuggle toy,” she said as she rubbed Wind Racer’s shoulders as Wind Racer stroked her long blonde hair. “You’re looking as stunning as ever.” “Why thank you, Douglas.” Charlotte’s interest shifted to the miniature horse changed up in the kitchen. “Is that’s your pet chimera?” Charlotte stooped over and looked over Sinclair. “Does he have a name?” “It’s Wind Racer.” “Is he tamed?” “He is now, isn’t that right?” Wind Racer gave Sinclair a silent cue to not make trouble for him while his guest was here. “He’s so adorable. It’s a shame he has to wear that ugly collar.” “You wouldn’t say that if you had to put up with him.” She gently stroke the burn marks on Sinclair’s back. “He has booboos.” “Those were his wings, but Wind Racer isn’t very bright and lost them in an accident.” “Oh he had wings?!? I wish I could have seen them.” “Don’t tell me you came here to see my pet.” “Are you jealous, Douglas Sinclair?” “A little...” Wind Racer smirked. “Let me make it up to you.” Charlotte took Wind Racer by the hand and led him to the bedroom. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Wind Racer walked Charlotte to the door. Her hair was in an upheaval and both of their clothes were wrinkled up and unkempt. Charlotte stopped and stared at the wall clock in disbelief. “It’s two-thirty in the morning already? I got all dressed up for nothing.” “I’m not complaining,” Wind Racer said slyly. “I enjoyed the last minute change in plans. In fact, we should do this more often, my little filly.” Charlotte giggled. “Only if I want to get an ear full from my elder brother-he still treats me like a little girl even though I’m 20.” “Maybe we should let him watch, and he’ll see just how grown up you really are.” Charlotte playfully shoved Wind Racer away. “Better watch what you said around me, mister. I’m not that kind of girl.” Wind Racer grabbed Charlotte and pressed his chest against her ample breasts. “You’re going to punish me for being bad?” “Don’t tempt me. I can be kinky when I want to.” Charlotte gave her boyfriend a goodbye lip lock. “See you soon, sweetie.” Wind Racer waited under he was certain Charlotte was out of earshot. “HUMAN GIRLS ARE AWESOME!” Wind Racer shouted. “I mean, I used to think those two cow utters on their chests were gross, but now I can’t get enough of ‘em.” He stooped over Sinclair and curled his fingers in and out as though he was squeezing something. “Oh my Celestia! They’re so soft and warm. There isn’t a pony in all of Equestria with those. You male humans are so lucky!” Sinclair looked down on the floor. His eyes averted from Wind Racer’s. “Hold on a sec,” Wind Racer circled to the right of Sinclair, who turned his head away from Wind Racer. “You've never been with a human woman have you?” Wind Racer circled around to Sinclair’s left, who was still averting his stair away from him. “You’re still a virgin.” Wind Racer then started laughing at Sinclair. “Oh man, what a loser! Your body was wasted on you. I've been a human for two months, and I already have Charlotte and another girl on the side.” Just then, Sinclair got back on his hooves. “You've been human for twenty-five years and couldn't even cop a feel. Oh man, you’re pathetic.” The heated breaths snorted from Sinclair’s nostrils were made visible by the cloud of water vapor hitting the cooler hair. Sinclair glared at Wind Racer scraping the floor with his hoof. Wind Racer kicked over a chair. “COME ON! This lesson’s been a long time coming! I want you to charge me. You don’t even make a good human, and you think you can take me in my old body? Whacha goin’ do, loser?” “Give you one last alchemy lesson.” Sinclair revved up on his hind legs, clapped his front hooves together, and slammed them on the floor. The blue hue of a transmutation appeared in front of him, followed by a pillar of earth striking Wind Racer in the chest and sent him flying through the room. Wind Racer staggered back to his feet as he clutched his chest. Sinclair clapped his front hooves again and touched the collar around his neck. It instantly rusted. It only took a slight jolt for the collar to shatter. “H...h...how? How are you performing alchemy without a transmutation circle?” “The accident that tore the wings from this body and switched our places gave to me, in return, a special insight into alchemy that you’ll never have. This, my student, is the true nature of equivalent exchange.” Another column of earth struck Wind Racer from the side. “I’ll never get my body back. I’ll have to learn to accept that fate.” Another mound of earth reached from the ground and struck Wind Racer. “But I’m taking back everything else you stole from me.” Another column of earth struck Wind Racer in the back. “My identity!” Wind Racer takes another hit. “My reputation!” Wind Racer is punched in the stomach. “And my knowledge OF ALCHEMY!” Wind Racer is hit in the gut again. He leaned against the wall trying to keep on his feet. “Get on your knees!” This time, Sinclair transmuted the wall and knocked Wind Racer on the floor. “Look at me! Look me in the eyes. I want to look in your eyes when I end your miserable life.” Wind Racer spit blood out of his mouth and got back up. “You’re going to kill me like you did those Ishvalian children.” Those words were all the distraction Wind Racer needed. He closed the distance between them and struck Sinclair in the temple. “Oh right,” Wind Racer gloated, “you didn’t actually kill them. You just watched your subordinates do it for you.” Wind Racer smirked. “I peeked in your diary. I know all your dirty little secrets. You knew it was wrong, but you were too cowardly to stop them. Afraid they would kill you next if you did. I’m no saint, but unlike you, I’m not a murderer.” Wind Racer pointed at Sinclair. “That’s why no one in the military respected you. That’s why no woman would give you as much as a peck on the cheek. You’re pathetic. Do the world a favor and kill yourself. I’m more than able to take over for you.” “Not without taking you with me,” Sinclair said as he struggled to get back on his hooves. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Riza Hawkeye stomped on the brake bringing the car to a screeching halt and stepped out of the car with pistol in hand casing the area for the one man she swore on her life to protect: Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. Mustang slipped on his ignition cloth gloves. With a snap of his fingers, the fragments of flint lining the glove would spark, and, with the special transmutation circle on the gloves, Mustang is able to alter the content of oxygen in the air, turning the small spark into an explosive inferno. The MP’s stationed around the house saluted Mustang. “At ease,” Mustang ordered. “Has there been any change to the situation so far?” “No sir,” one of the MPs replied, “no one’s entered or left the residence.” “It’s Lodestone’s place, isn’t it, sir?” Hawkeye asked. Mustang nodded. “Didn’t think Scar would go after ex-state alchemists?” “Lodestone served in Ishval, sir. That may be enough for him.” “Watch my back, Hawkeye, while I'll go...” suddenly, before Mustang could come charging in, a human body came crashing through the front door with such force he skidded across the ground a good twenty feet. Hawkeye and Mustang hurried to his aid. “Lodestone, are you okay?” Wind Racer face was swollen and covered in bruises, and his left arm was twisted the wrong way. Swollen eyes gazed up at Hawkeye and Mustang. “Who did this? Was it Scar?” “The chimera,” Wind Racer pointed to the house. Mustang diverted his attention to the direction Wind Racer pointed and caught sight of a strange-looking miniature horse standing in the doorway. “I’ve seen that thing before. It was in Lab 2, but it was destroyed.” The creature fled for the city limits. “You stay put,” Mustang sneered at Wind Racer. “I’ll have a word with you, later.” Then Mustang snapped his fingers sending a trail of fire in the direction of the creature and barely missing as the creature manage to find cover behind some parked cars. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dammit! Why of all people is Flame here? Another explosion went off behind him and echoed in Sinclair’s eardrums. Mustang and Hawkeye was in pursuit in Roy’s car. Sinclair ducked through the back alleys too narrow for his pursers to follow in their vehicle. The pony alchemist looked over his shoulder. Mustang and Riza drove away, but Sinclair knew they were only circling around, not giving up. Sinclair doubled back and ran for the city limits. Five minutes of galloping got him to the outskirts of the woods. Not far behind were Mustang and Riza. They drove as deep in the forest as possible before their wheels dug into the soft earth. A fountain of mud spouted from the spinning rear tires. Mustang and Riza jumped out and followed on foot. For once Sinclair was glad to have his pony body. Even if he hasn’t fully recovered, he outpaced Flame and could go deep enough into the thickets so that Mustang couldn’t get a clear shot. But then, Sinclair tripped over and slid along the dew-drenched ground. It took a second for Sinclair’s eyes to focus in the moonlet night to see what he tripped over. It was some rocks left over from a campsite. Sinclair could smell something rotting nearby. He focused his eyes in the dimly-lit moonlight and saw the remains of a wild boar left over from a hunting trip. Sinclair grabbed the tent with his teeth and played tug-a-war with the tent stakes. He tussled with it for a moment but the tent refused to budge. Sinclair dug in and pushed with all four legs until the stakes finally gave way. He dragged the tent to the remains of the gutted boar and clapped his hooves together. A mannequin with a rudimentary resemblance to Sinclair formed around the boar’s internal organs. Sinclair transmuted a hole in the ground and partially covered himself within. A few minutes later, a lightening bolt made of fire cut through the woods and a massive fireball engulfed the decoy. Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye came out of the shadows and inspected the body. “You did a number of it, sir,” said Hawkeye. Sinclair prayed Mustang wouldn’t be suspicious. “Must have transmuted too much oxygen by mistake,” Roy said. “I didn’t intend to do this much damage.” He drew a transmutation circle in the soil, and a mound of dirt rose from the ground and smothered the cremated remains. Sinclair hid in the makeshift foxhole long after Mustang and Hawkeye left. He debated with himself whether or not to go back. Don’t tell me you’ve given up that easily, Douglas. Sneak back into Central and force that impostor to give you back your identity. And what’s keeping Mustang from incinerating you? Tell him the truth. At the very least, convince Armstrong that you’re the real Douglas Sinclair. And then that bastard Mustang will hand you over to Bradley to be dissected? Don’t tell me you’re gullible enough to believe he’s any different from the other dogs of the military? Sinclair, overwhelmed from the physical and mental exhaustion, fell asleep within the foxhole. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Roy Mustang squeezed through the group of MPs that were holding Wind Racer, whose arm was now in a makeshift sling, for questioning. He was red in the face and covered in mud. Hawkeye’s uniform was also filthy. “I WANT AN EXPLANATION, LODESTONE AND I WANT IT NOW!” Wind Racer kept his eyes averted from Mustang’s. “Hawkeye and I chased down that chimera from Lab 2, and it almost got away. Then we spent an hour getting my car out of the mud.” “Is he...it...dead?” Wind Racer corrected himself. “And so will you be if you don’t come up with a damn good explanation!” “It attacked me.” Mustang pointed to the house. “A chimera couldn’t have done that sort of damage unless it just happened to know alchemy!” “I was in the middle of a transmutation.” “So that was your handiwork?” “The alchemic reaction must have spooked my chimera.” “‘Your chimera’?!? That thing is property of the military.” “You were going to destroy it anyway. Armstrong said it was okay.” “And I bet you played on his sentimental nature and conned him into giving it to you.” “So what?” Roy barely restrained from the urge to give Wind Racer a well-deserved ass-kicking. “I had to stop in the middle of my investigation of General Hughes’ death thinking Scar was going to kill you all because you’re too incompetent to keep your pilfered chimera under control! This is the last freebee you’re getting from us! If you want chimeras for your research, put back on the uniform!” Wind Racer looked up at Mustang. “That’s not a bad idea. I want to be a state alchemist...again.” Wind Racer pushed himself up before the sharp pain in his left side forced him back down again. He gave out an anguished yelp and grabbed his broken ribs with his good arm. “No one’s stopping you, Lodestone. The recruitment office is still on West Street. Now get out of my sight before I ship you off to Central Prison.” Wind Racer limped back home as fast as his injuries permitted. Riza Hawkeye pulled Mustang to the side. “Why are you going easy on him, sir?” “I’m doing this for Armstrong. He’s still in the military, and the top brass would come down on him a lot harder than Lodestone. Put in the official report that the chimera belonged to Sinclair and that there was no proof of negligence. I’ll have a word with Armstrong in the morning and set him straight. Military laboratories aren’t animal shelters for giving away strays to anyone that come asking.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Two weeks later A short, plumb girl with red, bushy hair studied under the glow of an incandescent lamp. Her outfit was a mismatch between the orange ankle-length dress and the blue sweater with red stripes. She was putting the finishing touches on a transmutation circle when she received a knock at the door. She looked through the peephole to see who it was. Immediately, she ran to her bedroom and hastily combed the thick mat of unkempt hair. “Just a second!” She yelled. The girl slipped into a blue dress with daisies on it. She ran to the door and swung it open. Wind Racer stood in the doorway all bandaged up, and his left arm was in a cast. “Douglas, I’m sorry I took so long answering the door, but I wasn’t decent.” “Oh it’s no problem, April” A smile ran across Wind Racer’s black and blue face. “Mind if I come in,” he asked. “Oh I don’t mind.” April stepped aside. “But won’t Charlotte be mad? She’s sort of the jealous type.” “Oh her? We broke up day before yesterday.” April’s face lit up. “I’m sorry to hear,” April said trying in vain to hide her enthusiasm for this bit of welcomed news. “Oh don’t be, April. She wasn’t my type. I really need someone more intellectual.” Wind Racer said as he gazed seductively in April’s eyes, “And can carry on a conversation without me having to dumb it down for her. Charlotte wasn’t that kind of a girl.” April bashfully turned away. “You have anyone in mind?” “Maybe in the near future, but I have to put that to the side for now. I’m studying for my state certification, and I’m sort of rusty. And after the accident, I’ve fallen even further behind.” “I could help,” April volunteered enthusiastically. “I’m going for my certification too.” “You’d do that me? Are you sure I’m not imposing on you?” April shook her head. “Oh no, not at all.” “So long as if it’s no trouble for you,” Wind Racer smirked. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A trail of hoof prints lined the sandy desert floor as Sinclair made his way eastward towards Xing with a satchel laying on his back filled with supplies for the long journey across the desert. The scorching heat distorted the air causing the sky just over the horizon to shake and quiver. A ruined building offered its blanket of shade to the pony alchemist to rest for a bit. After slumping over, Sinclair opened the bag with his mouth and pulled out a canteen. He tried first opening it with his mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. “Dammit,” he cursed. Sinclair tried again by twisting the cap open with his front hoofs while holding the canteen between his rear thighs only to lose his balance and to get a mouthful of sand for his trouble. Sinclair clapped his hoofs together. A pair of hands formed from the ground. Sinclair willed the hands to open the canteen and bring it to his parched mouth. He greedily accepted the refreshing drink. After he got his fill of water, Sinclair slumped against the wall wishing he had his old journal. There was comfort in putting his thoughts to pin and paper, but even that small consolation was denied to him. Instead, Sinclair played a bit of a mind game with himself. He had the bad habit of talking out loud while writing, much to the chagrin of his deceased father. He closed his eyes and imagined himself with human hands jotting down his feelings. Dear Journal if I had one, I let my anger get the better of me. My original plan was to bide my time until I found a way to take back my body from that impostor, but I blew it. I lost my temper and tried to kill the thing hiding underneath my old skin and my only hope of becoming human again. No, it wasn’t anger-it was jealousy. That impostor; he has the self-confidence and boldness I never had. He taunted me; telling me that my body was wasted on me, and I’m afraid he may be right. This impostor made a better Douglas Sinclair than the real Douglas Sinclair ever did. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I hope you enjoy this second installment of “Friendship is Magic; Damnation is Alchemy”.