Who: Roy Mustang & Marco What: Alchemy, bitches Where: Roy's lab When: Two days after this Warnings | Status: Veterans | Log - Complete
Marco can’t believe he’d actually done homework. If only the whole ‘making fire out of nothing’ thing wasn’t so damn cool. Why did scientists make all the names so weird? Sure, the beginning was fine, but eventually it was like ‘Americium?’ What kind of name for an element was that?
Still, he’d promised he’d return the book, so he trudged his way over to Roy’s, this time wearing actual clothes and even shoes since it looked like he was going to have to carry things. Which sucked. It’d been hard not to snort while he was reading the book, especially at some of the categorizations of alchemy that read like something out of a fantasy book.
But he’d seen the fire, so it was real.
And he wanted to go back. Which was weird. The whole thing was weird. He hadn’t wanted something in a long time. Not really. It was confusing. He frowned and shook his head.
This time Marco didn’t bother with knocking quietly. Instead he pounded on Roy’s door and when he didn’t get an answer he called out, “I’ll knock as a gorilla if I have to!”
***
“And you'll get your face burned off, if I have to,” Roy replied when he opened the door. He looked down at the boy, his characteristic scowl in place, eyes dark, hair a floppy mess atop his head. He pointed thin fingers at the inlaid arrays--no bigger than the American half dollar--that marked the doorway.
Wards.
Roy kept his research and alchemy inside the lab. Of course it was protected.
But he stepped back and let the boy inside, “Close the door,” He instructed as he slid gracefully into the chair behind his desk and sat back, watching the kid.
He let the silence continue for a moment before he said, “Well?”
***
Marco just waved brightly and grinned at Roy’s scowling face, “Hello, sunshine!” He greeted the man before leaning in to peer at the tiny arrays in the doorframe, “Cool.” He proclaimed, his mind already thinking of, and considering asking about, the most esoteric places an alchemist could place an array. And how small or large could they be? Could you use the machines that made nano transistors to make arrays out of atoms?
He blinked and straightened up, realizing Roy had already made his way to the desk while Marco had been thinking. He closed the door and looked at Roy.
Well?
“Well, for one, all of our elements have stupid names.” Marco launched into a gripe, “What kind of name for an element is Nihonium? It sounds like a sneeze!” He spread his hands out in exasperation, “Nihonium? Bless you.”
He stopped talking and bent down to open the backpack, pulling out the book and placing it on Roy’s desk.
“Most of that made some kind of sense,” Ignoring the fact that the central fact that none of this should work but Roy proved it did, “But I don’t get things like how you know if you’re being specific enough, or why people have different talents, or… I don’t know,” any of it, “Like, I get the idea? But for example, the arrays for stupid people in here,” The ‘baby’s first alchemy arrays’, “they look just like regular shapes to me. How am I supposed to, you know, know what to do to make them special?”
He wasn’t explaining this well. Marco hated that.
“How about you?” Marco asked, changing the subject, “Conquer the scientific calculator yet?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. One thing that sucked about the morphing outfits was no pockets. So what were they supposed to do with their hands?
*** Heh. Good. Roy had asked him to memorize the periodic table of elements, but Marco had read the whole book while he was at it. Overachiever, too much time on his hands, or smart? The jury was still out on that one, so Roy opted to just look at him instead, assessing.
“I gave you what is widely considered a chemistry book and you’re asking about alchemy symbols, for one,” he told him, “You memorize the elements available in the world, and you learn how to break things down into their component parts. Once you learn how to break things down, you can learn how to assemble just about anything. That’s where the math is handy. But you’re a long way from creating alloys and putting things together. First you learn the elemental symbols,” he reached out for the book Marco put on his desk, flipping open the page.
He turned the book around to show Marco.
“These are the basics, where everyone begins.” Marco’s ‘baby arrays.’ “You learn the symbols and their meaning and then eventually we’ll work on placement and connections. For now, it’s just a lot of memorization.” He drew out a piece of paper, sat forward, and grabbed a pen from a holder, sketching out a circle and adding in a few other alchemical symbols.
“Every array is specially designed for the intent you have in mind. But they all have a basic structure. The way you layer them matters. It’s not something you can learn overnight.” He looked up.
“I started studying when I was 10 until I was 16. My Master didn’t find my skills viable until I was in my 20s. It’s an arduous process, but if you’re dedicated, it’s workable.”
***
Memorization. Of course it was. Marco groaned. That wasn’t how he did things. He liked figuring out how things worked together, not memorizing random bullshit. There was a reason he hadn’t been doing well in school before they’d been replaced by their dopplegangers.
“Well, sure,” He’d asked about alchemy, “I get how they’re grouping things together, even if the names for everything are different and weird.” It’s just the jump he didn’t understand. How did you go from a symbol to something happening? “And I get it. It’s kind of like computers.” You just figured out what you wanted to do, made it logical, and used what the computer could do to get there. Not that he was any kind of computer genius (mostly he ended up with scripts that put embarrassing pictures in Jake’s email or showed Ax how to get human computers to draw dicks), but he knew how they worked. Sort of.
Another sigh, “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. It’s just weird.” Marco hadn’t gotten to take his time with anything in awhile. And it’s not like he was going to be there for 6 to 10 years. He didn’t know where he was going to be. Alive? Maybe. He wasn’t sure.
“Master,” He snickered. Apparently alchemy teachers required stupid titles, “Okay, Prince Roy, hit me.”
What was the next step?
***
Everyone reacted that way when they began the process of committing things to memory - with a groan and a sense of despair. “Long term memory creation, not short term for an exam next week, Marco. If I asked you what the composition of carbon was I’d expect you to tell me it’s chemical symbol is C and atomic number 6. And that its atoms can bond together to form graphite, diamonds, and amorphous carbon. For every element available, without having to think about it. And that’s just the minimal information you should know.”
Roy blinked at Marco when the boy called him ‘Prince.’
“What? If you’re going to use a stupid name it’s Colonel Mustang, or Flame Alchemist. I don’t care,either way,” he replied, furrowing his brow, before he pushed himself to his feet and stepped around the desk to the long table on the other end of the room, atop of which a collection of minerals, other ingredients, and requisite tools for the science were sitting. He took a few from various glass jars then came back to the desk, dropping one into the center of the array he’d drawn.
“Silicon and oxygen create quartz,” He laid his hands on the array a moment later. He applied the energy he could feel and watched as the array lit up with a blue-white light. He raised his hands and looked down at the semi-precious gemstone he’d created. Picking it up, Roy handed the piece of newly formed quartz over to Marco. “I did that calculation in my head. You’ll get there.”
Not that quartz was particularly exciting, it had just been to show you could take two elements and form them into something new. Now if anything else required quartz, he’d have a piece for it, later.
Sitting back against the desk, he folded his arms across his chest and tucked his chin down briefly. “Bear with me, I didn’t expect you to come back,” he laughed lightly then pushed away from the desk to examine his shelf, taking down several more books.
“I should have started you with the theory books. It’s a level of bullshit even I hate reading about. And I have no particular desire to talk about it so we’ll just understand that alchemy is a practice of transmutation, which is what you’re doing when you set up an array and you change something into something else. It’s got a base beginning in philosophy and some other crap, because a bunch of people wanted to become immortal. Alchemy doesn’t let you become immortal, the Philosopher’s Stone is a myth.”
It wasn’t, but Roy Mustang was a fantastic liar.
“What you need to understand is that it is about equivalent exchange. If you don’t have the right calculations, your array is going to compensate for what it’s missing and it’s usually going to take it from you. Nothing about these can be sloppy or imperfect or hastily drawn. It’s an exact science.”
He set the books he’d picked off the shelf--four total--in front of Marco. “Start reading through these.”
***
“I know. Actually, an exam would be nice.” Marco said, “I like tests that don’t involve a likelihood of death.” Like all their morphing ‘tests’ were, “I get it, you want it to be instinctual. Like how a bird flies. Leaves your brain able to do the other parts.” If they had to concentrate on what they were doing physically every time they morphed, they’d be fucked.
Of course Roy didn’t get the joke. Marco snickered, “No, it’s a joke...I have a…” Friend? Comrade? “One of us,” He amended, “Is from a warrior culture where ‘Prince’ is a military rank. I just said it because you said ‘Master’ and man does that sound weird. Like you were a sex slave or something.”
He watched Roy put a piece of silicon in a circle, and then do… something. And handed him a piece of quartz. Marco’s eyes lit up just as much as they had when Roy had summoned fire, and he took the piece of quartz and turned it around in his hands, inspecting it.
Didn’t expect him to come back?
“Are you kidding?” Marco asked, “Do you know what you could do with this?” He gave Roy a serious look. If they could get it to work at home…
Four books? Theory? Marco sighed again and eyed the books. He got it, they were being responsible. It still sucked, though.
“Yeah, that makes sense. The laws of thermodynamics and motion. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and mass and energy can be neither created nor destroyed.” He wasn’t that stupid, thank you.
***
He snorted at the boy's explanation of ‘Prince.’ What the hell kind of military ranking was ‘prince?’ Unless it was a damned monarchy. Who knew? Roy eyed the boy then shook his head slightly. “A sex slave? Wow,” he said, dry. “That’s a big leap from science to sex. It’s just the proper term of address, better than ‘teacher’ or something stupid.” Master Berthold Hawkeye. Man. Roy forced his thoughts away from the complication that had been his whole young life.
Fortunately Marco gave him something else to ponder over. He turned to look at him. What they could do with it? Roy knew what Amestris did with it. Roy knew what the military in Amestris did with it, too.
He frowned a little, pushing his hand through his dark hair. “The first tenant of alchemy is be thou for the people. Alchemy was meant to be for the benefit of the people. I can’t control what you do with it,” he said steadily, “But I sure as hell can encourage you to use it to help. Flame Alchemy was used to destroy. Whatever you wind up doing, use it to create.”
That was all Roy had ever wanted. To help. To make a difference. To do something good for the world. In the end, he’d slaughtered thousands and destroyed an entire nation.
He said nothing of it to Marco for the moment though. A smile crossed his face and he nodded his approval.
“Alright, kid, tell me what the hell education you have in science and physics, so I’m not repeating myself with shit you already know. It’ll save us both a lot of time and a fucking headache.”
***
“Hey, the only time I’ve heard anyone called ‘Master’ is either as a freaky sex thing or referring to a dog. Which is not how dogs think of it, by the way,” Marco said off-handedly, “We just call our teachers ‘Mr.’ or ‘Ms.’ or ‘Professor’ so-and-so, but Mr. Mustang sounds like a car, so whatever.”
“Unless you want me to call you master,” The teenager waggled his dark eyebrows.
He listened to Roy, considering what he said and nodding his head, “I didn’t mean the destructive capabilities. Well, mostly.” He amended; because of course he’d thought about it, “At home, humans are the newest faster than light species on the block. We just kicked out a bunch of dick aliens, but that doesn’t mean that everybody’s our friends now.”
The Andalites definitely had no intention of openly trading all their technology or resources. They were still pretty condescending to other races in the galaxy.
“I bet alchemy would give us a major technological and economic advantage. Hell, not relying on other races for rare elements and materials would be fantastic. There’s some sentiment that we shouldn’t be ‘allowed’ too much. Alchemy would give us a more equal seat at the table.” Marco said seriously.
“Not to mention manufacturing. There are lots of computers and things that rely on materials that, right now, are really hard to make.” Hence the technological advantage.
What the hell education he had? That was a question.
“Uh, well, I stopped really going halfway through freshman year. So I don’t know much except physics and math. Dad’s really into those, so we worked on them in the woods so we wouldn’t go nuts. Physics I probably know at least as much as you,” Just because of how time works, “Biology? I know about cells and DNA and stuff but not the details. Same with chemistry. I know what atoms are and protons, neutrons, and electrons, and that elements exist…” He trailed off, feeling embarrassed.
It wasn’t his fault he’d been too busy for this crap!
***
“Depends, how good are you at taking orders?” He replied flippantly. Roy Mustang’s ideas on what was acceptable discussion were skewed. He didn’t have a normal upbringing. The girls in his aunt’s place of business had seen to it.
But he fell silent to let the boy speak. For someone so young Marco was a remarkably well spoken individual, who explained himself in clear and concise ways. He wasn’t as dumb as his given years would imply, which was interesting. Another man would have been troubled by what circumstances had raised a boy so mature, but Roy’s own childhood had forced a similar growth in him. He didn’t know it wasn’t normal, really. Well, no, he did know it wasn’t normal, he just lacked the capacity to be offended by it.
“Humans is a general term there, kid. Are we talking an entire planet?” Because Amestris was just one nation and its surrounding territories. It was a lot smaller in scope.
He didn’t know what ‘freshman’ was or why Marco would be embarrassed about his lack of education anywhere else. “I didn’t go to traditional school either,” he said mildly. He’d grown up in a brothel, after all, and Madam Christmas (re: Chris Mustang) had been an older woman of esteem in a world of sin. Sending her nephew to school had never been a particular concern of hers though she’d given him just about anything he’d asked for. She’d gone so far as to sponsor his education in Alchemy, of course, but Roy had learned to read from the girls who worked in the house. He’d occupied a lot of his time with them reading books on science.
Everything else came from Master Hawkeye’s steep demands. Roy had never really set foot in a classroom until he’d joined the military academy.
“Aright,” he said simply, without inflection or note. “You’re clearly smart enough to inquire if there’s something you don’t understand,” which was helpful. “But I still need to test your knowledge.” Their timelines were different, anyway, “maybe there’s something you’ll end up teaching me.”
Hell, Marco had already given him a scientific calculator, after all. What else did the kid know that Roy didn’t?
***
“Depends on who’s giving them,” Marco responded, batting his eyelashes. Sure, he was probably going to get punched in the face, but it was funny. Really the only people he’d unquestioningly take orders from were Jake and his mother, and neither would ask him to since questioning was the whole point of having him around.
He nodded, “Yeah, Earth. Humans. As opposed to Andalites, Hork Bajir, Yeerks, Skrit Na, Leerans…” Marco trailed off. There were a lot of aliens!
Wait, Roy hadn’t gone to school? Well, that was a relief at least. Marco was used to being around people who assumed you stayed in school until you were about 22, “So how’d you learn then?” He asked.
“Sounds good,” Marco said, looking a little uncomfortable when Roy said he was intelligent, “Let’s figure out where to start in a way that doesn’t get anyone blown up.”
***
Roy chuckled at Marco’s banter. Idiot kid. Hughes was the same way. The thought made Roy’s expression soften a little, but the moment didn’t last long. It never did. Moments were all Roy ever allowed himself before he picked up and moved on.
The alchemist quirked a brow at the boy’s list of aliens. Not a single one of them made a lick of difference in Roy’s understanding, because he didn’t know what the hell any of them were. Sure, okay, aliens. There aliens on Knowhere. Roy had probably had sex with a few of them and never even known it. He had gotten quite a few numbers from several who obviously weren’t human.
What? He had a reputation and women’s panties tended to soak and drop around him. As did a more select range of men.
“My Master,” he said. “He was an asshole that demanded a lot from me. I spent my time learning from him all the things I’d missed, on top of alchemy and the science behind it. After that, I went to the military academy where I was brainwashed into accepting military mantras and the narrative they wrote surrounding our history.” He was older now and saw where it was wrong. But that hadn’t been the question Marco asked.
“That’s generally always a good idea,” he said, laughing again, just as mildly. “I don’t have plans to die today. Do you?”
***
Well, he didn’t get punched in the face, but he didn’t get much of a reaction either. That was it; the game was on. Marco would get a reaction if it killed him (temporarily).
Roy gave him the same blank look Marco would’ve given anybody four years ago, so he got it. None of that meant anything to Roy, but it did to Marco. Sure, he wasn’t officially involved in anything serious, but given his father was one of the few humans who understood FTL travel and his mother was one of the few with an independent look at galactic politics, it was inevitable that’d it’d be a common topic of discussion within his family.
“If you consider yourself brainwashed, why are you still so military-minded?” Marco asked out of curiosity. Was it a farce? Habit? Ax kept habits even when he was disillusioned.
“Nope,” Marco said, shaking his head, “Dying is penciled in for 2:30 next Sunday, right after having a nightmare but before stealing someone’s beer.”
***
“What else would I do?” He replied. “I live and breathe the military.” It was the only life he knew, really. For ten years he’d lived with his aunt, six on the Hawkeye Estate, and fifteen as a soldier in the State Military. He had a skillset that didn’t lend itself to anything else but the world he was already entrenched in. “Besides,” he said smoothly, “I’ve seen first hand what my government does with its retired veterans and I happen to like the house I live in currently.” Not really. He slept there, but there was no signs of living in it.
Ah, well.
Nevermind the fact Roy worked his way up the ranks because he had a plan. But speaking of that plan out loud with those who didn’t already know about it was a good way to be arrested, imprisoned and then tried for treason. Out of habit, Roy never said the words aloud. He wasn’t in Amestris anymore, true, but old habits died hard.
“Don’t get caught,” he said. He didn’t care that Marco drank, or stole anything, or did anything untoward, judging by the words coming out of the kid’s mouth. Who was Roy Mustang to lecture anyone on acceptable behavior when his own was a mess of decisions and bad decisions? When alcohol was the only way you slept through the night. Hell, he’d given Ed alcohol as a way to cope with his own anxieties.
Roy Mustang wasn’t always the best person. But he understood why people turned toward the avenues they did.
He didn’t judge.
***
Marco nodded at Roy’s explanation. He got that. He felt like that all the time. What was he supposed to do? At home it was bad enough, but on Knowhere… it was even worse. There wasn’t any fame or parties or exotic substances to take his mind off of things, so Marco often found himself staring at the walls of his studio apartment, literally unsure of what he was supposed to do.
Don’t get caught.
The teenager snorted, offended, “Please.” He said. Like he’d get caught doing something as stupid as stealing beer.
He clapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly, “Well, then, let’s get started, Maaaaster Mustang.” Marco drew out the title with a drawl.