The Gunslinger Alchemist (Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfiction)

As the two soldiers walked toward the front of the train, Carlyle flipped out the cylinder of his revolver and checked the bullets he had loaded therein. Four of the bullets were marked with thin green lines, and two bullets were marked with black lines. The green lines denoted Body Alteration Rounds, and the black lines denoted Iron Alteration Rounds. Carlyle rotated the cylinder slightly so that the Body Alteration Rounds would be chambered before the other two.

After slapping the cylinder closed, Carlyle twirled his revolver and holstered it at his hip. Any combat on the train would probably take place at extremely close range, and the revolver would just get in the way. Plus, he could unholster the revolver within three-tenths of a second, if necessary.

The State Alchemist flexed his fingers in preparation. The glove of his left hand contained a medical transmutation circle, whereas the glove of his right hand contained an alteration matrix made to interface with steel and other iron alloys. Considering that he was essentially trapped within a cylinder made primarily of steel, Carlyle knew this ferric transmutation circle would be indispensable.

Before Carlyle and Hotchkiss could reach the door leading to the next train car, a voice began to speak over the train's intercom.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your host, Erasmus the Magician, and I am here to inform you of today's itinerary. You see, my compatriots and me have taken this train hostage, and we will detonate a bomb if all of our demands are not followed thoroughly." The man, Erasmus, spoke with the upbeat conviction of a radio show announcer, even when he threatened to kill everyone aboard the train. "Don't worry, though, my beloved audience. We don't want to hurt or rob you. Well, not most of you. We're here for just one man: Commander Simon Carlyle of the West Area. As for the rest of you, none will be harmed as long as you follow my directions."

Erasmus cleared his throat before continuing at an even louder volume. "If all of you would be so kind, please make your way to the two cars at the rear of the train. You will know you've gone far enough when you pass by my lovely assistant, Miriam. Make sure to take all bags, I.D.'s, clothing, and children with you at this time. You will not be returning to your seat. Thank you."

The two soldiers looked at each other in confusion. There were many questions on Carlyle's mind. Why would the hijackers surrender the advantage granted to them by their hostages? What was Miriam going to do with the train's passengers?

Carlyle did not have time to voice these questions, however, as a flood of concerned civilians began to filter into their train car a few seconds later. Many of the passengers recognized Carlyle from his photograph that had been included in many recent newspapers, and the flow of foot traffic was slowed as many people stopped to speak to him with frightened or rebellious words. The Colonel attempted to move them along by providing short, clipped responses.

"Will you be alright, Mr. Carlyle?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Beat the shit out of those terrorists!"

"I'll try."

"Let me come with you! I can fight!"

"Join the military first, son."

Colonel Carlyle's eyes lingered on the child for a moment as his mother pulled him away. The boy couldn't have been older than thirteen years old, yet he was asking to fight a group of dangerous insurgents. Carlyle was more than ten years older than the boy, and he still felt like a child sometimes.

The thought of a thirteen year old fighting against men armed with machine guns seemed absurd to Carlyle, but he couldn't fool himself into thinking that such a thing was impossible. Edward Elric was made a State Alchemist at twelve years old. Now, four years later, he was still just a child.

Even if Edward Elric was found to be tied to Fuhrer King Bradley's death, Carlyle was unsure of what he would do. The boy might have been pulled into the conspiracy by his commanding officer, Roy Mustang. No matter the circumstance, Carlyle could not see himself pursuing sanctions against the Elric brothers. All he could feel was pity toward two children who were forced to do the military's bidding before they could rightfully be called teenagers. Hopefully, the new Fuhrer, whoever he was, would put a stop to such things.

Carlyle was pulled out of his thoughts by the telltale sound of a foot slapping against the ground before an attack. He blinked and saw one of the people among the fleeing passengers was charging at him with the intent to tackle. This problem was immediately increased as Carlyle realized that five other men standing nearby were glaring at him with malicious intent clear in their eyes.

The Colonel's hand shot forward, and he grabbed the first attacker by the throat. There was a flash of light as he put a milligram of etorphine into the attacker's jugular, but this failed to arrest the man's forward momentum. The attacker crashed into Carlyle with enough force to knock him on his back, and he only had half a second to act before he would end up on the ground with an unconscious man on top of him.

There were five remaining attackers, and Carlyle's hand was still wrapped around the first man's throat. Using the transmutation circle made for steel alteration was not an option. Any alchemy that could neutralize the five attackers at once would end up killing several innocent passengers as well. The only option available for Carlyle was to neutralize as many attackers as he could and leave the rest for Hotchkiss to deal with.

The revolver jumped to Carlyle's hand, and he shot one of the remaining attackers in the stomach. The man's intestines were perforated, and the piercing bullet created a cloud of diffuse etorphine a few centimeters below his stomach before striking the steel wall of the train, leaving a pattern of scattering blood.

Before Carlyle could fire again, the momentum of the first attacker pushed him backward, and he landed hard on his back. He struggled against the dead weight of the unconscious man as the sound of Hotchkiss engaged in a furious melee rang in his ears. Hotchkiss was the only bulwark preventing Carlyle's capture by a dangerous terrorist organization. If the four men reached him and were able to strip him of his gloves and revolver, he would be powerless.