The Night after Rush Valley-style (Foxy) Boxing

[Guest]

Isabella shifting and growled as the soft rays of light from the sun beat down upon her like a torrent of artillery fire. "Motherfucker,” she mutters, covering her eyes. Last night was… not to her liking. Her brothers had blabbed that she was stationed in South City now, which meant the old gang just needed to hang out with her.

Bar hopping was definitely involved, she could remember that much. The drinks had just added up on her, she supposed. Things just sorta… blurred together after the second bar. Swirls of color, flashes of locations she couldn’t pinpoint…

Rolling over, she yelps as she falls to the floor. ”Ow,” she says, still keeping her eyes closed. It was too bright, and she just fell off of someone’s couch, and onto her back on a cold, hard floor. Stretching, she winced in pain as her body rebelled against her in pain. Bruises, probably. Was she involved in Rush Valley-style bareknuckle boxing? Her left side certainly felt like it. Slowly, her mind began to align the fragments of her memory and… Something didn’t add up.

Cracking her eyes open, she sees that she had spent the night in… a fancy building. Crisp, clean stone walls, tiled floor, immaculate. Probably had a cleaning service. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to sit upright, looking around the room now. End tables, a leather couch, old-style lamps… And a desk, which she must have mistaken for a rather uncomfortable couch or bed. Wood. Good quality, upper-teir. Either the owner was rich, had expensive tastes, or was high up on the corporate ladder.

”So I’m not in Rush Valley anymore,” she grumbles. Possibly Dublith. She hadn’t remembered walking anywhere, or a car… Had one of her friends hotwired one? Fuck… Her head was beginning to throb. Definitely a hangover.

Inspecting her arm, she notices scrapes and dents that weren’t supposed to be there. Flexing her fingers, she guessed that there was some internal damage. Nothing serious… yet… She’d probably be able to jury-rig it until she could get something proper. No problem, since she’d just have to make her way back up to Rush Valley.

Standing, she squints as she looks out the window. High walls, grand structures, intricately planned city… She knew it from her time studying with Gavin Wolfe. She was in Central. But…

”Nononononono,” she says, shaking her head. ”How the fuck did I end up here?” She was still wearing the clothes she had gone out in, even if they were torn a little, and she still had her silver watch and fans…

Turning around, she stoped. Right there, on the desk, was the last thing she wanted to see. A nameplate with “Brigadier General Stuka” on it.

”Sonofabitch!” she shouts. She had to get out fast, before Stuka comes in and sees she sorta… trashed his desk.

[Guest]

Today felt good to Nikolaus, he just got his office just newly polished, and set a bunch of nonsensical stack of statistical papers with graphs on his desk about the weather ALL to just appear like he was actually doing some work. The kind of crap nobody looks at because it's probably classified, or none of their business, or just plain old intrusive. Either ways, he has his ass covered, and can dump some stuff on another person to work for him, considering it is his EXECUTIVE RIGHTS. If one can say Amestris is all about equality, Nikolaus would be more equal than others, thus more privileged!

He was out of his office for pretty much the whole day, spending the night at Claire's, whom he happened to promise a promotion to her if she can provide a soft bed, maybe throw in a few snacks at her own expense, and get a smashing bunch of DVD's. Not that crappy 3D gimmick stuff people seem to love nowadays. And BOY did he enjoy those, watching those flicks and having a general break to contemplate himself at the expense of being idle rarely so. He had nobody to boss around the duration, so things were rather not busy at the headquarters.

So there was Nikolaus, riding on the car of Claire's before dismissing her without even addressing her glee for an easy promotion. Looking straight at her with a remark thrown at her face of, "It will come in time." Despite her protests that he promised to deliver it ASAP. Silly bunny, promotions don't come fast, and have to go through paperwork too to the proper channels and whatnot. Which is to say the logistics department and all that crap.

So there was Nikolaus, walking towards his headquarters, just off the car, marching into his office, straightening his clothing and his attire. He wanted to appear presentable, what better way to boss the teeming masses of mooks than to look nice about it while being downright bossy and fussy? Just something about today felt like everything will be left as the way they are, and he could actually trust his subordinates. Taking a leap of faith with this one.

For too long, had he not trusted them, always thought they were incompetent, unable to perform the menial tasks and functions required of Security, as Amestris finds itself besieged on all sides by saboteurs, spies, interlopers, as well as the fief-like grip the HQ commanders tend to display withholding information, and typically tending to their own affairs, with cooperation remaining at a minimal. Central itself has even fallen to this sort of unfortunate set of affairs, becoming nothing more than a fief of its own, losing ts commanding touch where back then, it actually used to hold meaning as where all generals actually answer to, no matter what region they control.

So he went by his office, finding his workers were just on time, enlightening his faith in humanity and its intelligence... just maybe they aren't thralls or kine for the slaughter the Homunculus should have after all. Going up the stairs, nodding at his subordinates in a rare and generous display of good will. Until he came across...

"OY Pattrays, why is the door knob to my office exactly open?" He demanded to his subordinate, only met with mumbles and a lack of explanation, he was talking incoherently. Seeing for himself to solve this mystery, he pushes the door ajar, unveiling... THE Isabella Galicia.

He steps into his office and looks at his door before back to her, "My... MY PAPERWORK!" He gasped in disbelief, more at the mess than the importance of such nonsensical documents, "I spent minutes looking up the local networks to find the most irrelevant piece of documents abound! Of all the people, why'd YOU do this?!"

[Guest]

Gathering the papers she had knocked over – or possibly thrown around the room – she couldn’t help but wonder why they were in here. Weather reports, some kid’s history project, a paper going into the quantum sub-structure of… oh, wait, that was just a list of all terms using “quantum.” What the hell was Stuka doing?

”OY Pattrays, why is the door knob to my office exactly open?”

”Fuck,” she mutters, thinking she might’ve cursed out some of his subordinates. Well, if she was really out of it, she probably threatened to stab one of them. Yep, totally likely. Now, if she could only finish gathering these papers quickly…

"My... MY PAPERWORK!"

Dropping the papers she had in her hands, she grabbed her head. ”No need to shou-“

”I spent minutes looking up the local networks to find the most irrelevant piece of documents abound! Of all the people, why'd YOU do this?!"

”Just calm down!” she yells back, wincing in pain. Fucking headache… Hangover… Whatever the fuck it was. ”I swear, you can’t just keep quiet for once. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll work this out, fucking sonofa…” Taking in a deep breath, she exhales slowly.

”Listen, Stuka, this is… this is shit,” she says, kicking away some of the papers. ”Just… just let me work this out…” Eyeing one of Stuka’s subordinates peeking in, she can’t help a sense of déjà vu… ”Water, now!” she shouts at the young soldier.

”Okay, so… I’m supposed to be in South right now, and you need to look busy, right?” Sitting down on the couch, she examines her arm again, flexing her fingers, imagining what the problem could be. For some reason, the name “Big Bertha” popped into her head… ”So, you call General Brighton in South, saying that you needed my technical expertise on a project. And if anyone needs you today, say you’re escorting a mechanic or State Alchemist around. Meanwhile, you get your subordinates to clean up the paperwork and stack it neatly on your desk. Problem solved, right?”

[Guest]

"Joder!" Esparian, the language of getting into another chick's panties, successful for pick up lines, to appear foreign and dazzling if not alluring, or at least that's how Nikolaus spins it in his limited experience with those people. At least conveyed in his experiences with the big melon Isabella, and his quint experience with her family.

"No hay necesidad de grita-." Why was this werelock speaking in a language to Nikolaus that he could not fathom or understand? A true mystery that itches his frontal cranium with his mystery senses tingling verily so. Bah, he pulled off his trench coat he happened to be wearing at the time anyways, flinging it at Isabella. She seemed dreadfully underdressed for these occasions. Security officers are cold, all thanks to the wonders of air conditioning.

"Just calm down!" Finally, a language he understood, finally, Amestrian. The fatherland's native tongue. He didn't receive her screams with much hostility, no, but remained as neutral in expression as he was.

"Te lo juro, usted no puede guardar silencio por una vez. Solo dame unos minutos y voy a resolver esto, maldito hijodepu..." Again with the Esparian! Does she not realize that this is an Amestrian company? But he understood this. Women these days.

"Listen, Stuka, this is… this is shit, just… just let me work this out… Water, now!" She would say, kicking more of his precious paperwork as if it were some useless papers, and it really was. Only to raise an eyebrow, his sharp ears picked up the whispers of gossip among those peering at the door way. Glaring at his subordinates with burning hate, sending them scurrying back from the door way. They were too curious. Inclining his optics back towards the big boobed Esparian.

"Good grief... I certainly hope this isn't the time of the month." Nikolaus muttered in a whisper under his breath in a hush.

"Okay, so… I’m supposed to be in South right now, and you need to look busy, right? So, you call General Brighton in South, saying that you needed my technical expertise on a project. And if anyone needs you today, say you’re escorting a mechanic or State Alchemist around. Meanwhile, you get your subordinates to clean up the paperwork and stack it neatly on your desk. Problem solved, right?"

He gave a moment of thought over this, rubbing his chin, well, his thoughts are more along the lines of why she is actually surprisingly reasonable despite the presumed PMS. What sort of demonic woman is this that keeps her intelligence in a time where most women run rampant and berserk under the watchful eyes of the blood moon?

"Fine fine, Lieutenant Colonel, you made your point. Besides, might as well make your visit worthwhile..." He rubbed his chin further with intensity unparalleled to mankind, finding it curious how she ended up all the way from South to Central in this fashion, "BUT, before we go, I need you to sign an undisclosed contract to the government which will last in effect indefinitely."

The General strolls past the quarter cyborg, viewing her arm with some sort of brief disdain before returning to his own designs, pulling open a drawer, shifting through each files until he got the right stack of paper. Pulling one out from a dozen other copies, pulling out a special stamp alongside it before closing the drawers. Punching the red ink on the paper. It read; [N5-EINGESCHRÄNKT]. Placing the stamp aside, he happens in front of the blond Esparian, gives the paper to Isabella with a pen, outlining several clauses for secrecy, discretion, and the consequences that'll entail in breaking them. Not citing what the secrecy is for, or what the discretion is for, only vagueness remains, yet the consequences are quite colorful. Making it evident it must be revealed to no one, except the Sovereign, the contractor himself, and whomever has jurisdiction that lies at clearance level N5, albeit only by request. Otherwise, all is on a need-to-know-basis.

"Just sign here, and we'll be off to some little wonderland of mine."

[Guest]

Batting away at the trench coat first, she realizes it might be rare gesture of kindness coming from Stuka. Looking at him, then at it, she reluctantly slips into it, closing it in order to keep warm.

”Fine fine, Lieutenant Colonel, you made your point. Besides, might as well make your visit worthwhile...” Thank god, he’d at least play along to save both their asses. "BUT, before we go, I need you to sign an undisclosed contract to the government which will last in effect indefinitely."

She looks back at Stuka, tilting her head. Contract? ”Contract? I don’t see any need to-“ Stuka tosses her a folder, with [N5-EINGESCHRÄNKT] freshly stamped on it. ”Please tell me that you’re joking,” she mutters, opening it up, scanning through the document.

"Just sign here, and we'll be off to some little wonderland of mine."

”Holy shit,” she says, reading through the terms and conditions.
Gripping the pen in her left hand, she ponders over her options. Simply put, lose her job and possibly get arrested, or agree to absolute terms and jump through whatever loops Stuka has set up.

And she’d like to keep her grant money.

Signing it quickly, her scribble-of-a-signature was handed back to Stuka.

”Let’s just get this over with,” she says softly.

[Guest]

His smile widened into a toothy grin, his eyes lock into Isabella, yes. His mind ran with wild thoughts off signing the deal with the devil. The country itself being its resulting spawn. His mind throbbed with the anticipation of her signing herself away into the country's top secret, mostly on accounts that she is one of the few people that Nikolaus agrees with. Probably. She did help him take down Cretan saboteurs as Nikolaus time and time again warned against a Cretan plot to invade Amestris. Then IT HAPPENED. But point is, she was one of the few willing to get her hands dirty.

"SIGN IT SIGN IT SIGN IT SIGN IT SIGN IT SIGN IT!" His thoughts ran with those, finding himself gleeful and more expectant as she took in the list of clauses that comes with signing a contract like this. Finally, the deed is sealed in the signatory mark Isabella imparted upon this worthless piece of parchment that so many people would hold out as proof.

"Let’s just get this over with."

He smiled at that, "The silver of the soul is blood, but I do digress, time is a wasting with every moment we're here. Onwards we go, Lieutenant Colonel." He clapped audibly once, thundering it in an echo in this small room of his. Turning around as he inserts the contract into the folds of his pocket. Concealing it.

Walking over to the guarded elevator, he'd insert himself into the confines of it, happening over to the retinal scanner inside. Pulling off his gloves to place both hands on the hand scanner, typing up the password with fast mechanical-like precision on the keyboard, before being greeted with an automated... "Voice authorization word is required."

"One for a hundred, a hundred for a thousand, a thousand for a million, and billions make Nayuta. That is my Equivalent Exchange." He says to the voice recognition machine embedded within the elevator.

Access Granted. Welcome to Sector Talos, Clearance level N5, Brigadier General Nikolaus ERROR NO MIDDLE NAME Stuka. The voice acknowledges the correct sequence the General put in, he gestures for Isabella to step inside of the windowed elevator as the doors come to a close... beginning its descent over to the underground confines that span far below Central.

Each floors were but huge warehouses of storage below the Security headquarters, the floors seem to go on forever. Passing up for every time they descend down in a repetitive cycle. Dim lights gracing each of those floors as they are relatively deserted. Until far deep enough in the abyss, a view of a white tiles adorning several unorthodox and alien looking technological apparatus that are tinkered around by men in white coats. Doing their own scientific things one expects of them. Writing down, documenting and experimenting. There was even a board of thick steel shot by a concentrated beam of orange by a scientist in full protective gear. Ensuing fire to form around the thick block of steel with a hole penetrating deep enough to render it molten, though he was wielding a gun with a bulky looking battery. Whereas in another section of this vast expanse of space with all sorts of interesting tool... is a bipedal war machine, often referred to in popular circles... as a mech. Nothing glorious looking like what they show in Aerugese anime though. It appears more like a tank on wheels with a thick and big cockpit.

The elevator stops below, opening up as Nikolaus steps out, turns around, and spreads his arms wide apart, "Welcome Isabella, to Sector Talos! A non-existent part of R&D with non-existent personnel, and an unaccounted for budget. Where ethics and scientific safety don't take precedence as opposed to progress!" He rubs his chin, "A pity our said progress left us with the most astounding of wonder toys, but useless in practicality and standardization." He strolls over to what appears to be a very bulky block one would vaguely think for a pistol on top of a steel table, with a very huge battery pack that would make one wonder how Nikolaus managed to lift up such an object worth many kilos with merely one hand, without strain, before dropping it on said steel table, denting the surface, "So what you see here are just prototypes in testing, feel free to browse around. This oughta feel like a sci-fi convention for you, it's not like we can test them out in the field anyways."

[Guest]

"The silver of the soul is blood, but I do digress, time is a wasting with every moment we're here. Onwards we go, Lieutenant Colonel."

She tilted her head, slightly confused. ”Wait, what?” But, before she knew it, Stuka was off, and she was… obligated to follow. Soon, she found herself inside an elevator, with guards posted outside of it.

"One for a hundred, a hundred for a thousand, a thousand for a million, and billions make Nayuta. That is my Equivalent Exchange.”

”That’s not even…” Sighing, she rubs her forehead lightly.

”Access Granted. Welcome to Sector Talos, Clearance level N5, Brigadier General Nikolaus ERROR NO MIDDLE NAME Stuka.”

As the doors closed, she stared at Stuka for a few moments. Nikolaus? What kind of fucking name was that? Shaking her head, she waits patiently, rapping her fingers against her metal forearm, and was soon rewarded with a grand view of what seemed to be a tech lab of sorts.

"Welcome Isabella, to Sector Talos! A non-existent part of R&D with non-existent personnel, and an unaccounted for budget. Where ethics and scientific safety don't take precedence as opposed to progress! A pity our said progress left us with the most astounding of wonder toys, but useless in practicality and standardization."

She snorted. Truer words couldn’t have been spoken, however. Many of these devices seemed like pipe dreams, technological dead ends whose purpose was only to determine what was and wasn’t plausible.

"So what you see here are just prototypes in testing, feel free to browse around. This oughta feel like a sci-fi convention for you, it's not like we can test them out in the field anyways."

Tilting her head, she hesitantly breaks off from Stuka, her copper eyes scanning around the room once again. She was familiar with the use of plasma, since she’d finally received that plasma blowtorch thanks to a suspicious discount coupon that showed up in her mail. Obviously, it was scaled up, or rather, hers was scaled down, but still…

Eyeing the mech, she begins to look it over. ”Interesting start,” she comments. Probably inspired by automail, but intended for use without losing one’s limbs first. ”Did this provide any working prototypes? General Black made use of these power armor suits, similar in overall concept. Never got to get a good look at them, though.” Pulling out a piece of chaulk, she draws a simple transmutation circle on a flat piece, and presses her hand against it. Sparks fly around it for a few seconds, then stop. ”Is this supposed to be a walking tank?” she asks. ”I mean, what, so you can conquer the stairs of the White House or something? Legs are a liability at this size.” Extending the tungsten rod out of her arm, she pierces the knee of the mech for emphasis. ”Taking out the treads immobilizes a tank. Taking out the legs renders something like this useless.” Walking away, she turns around and looks back at it. ”I mean, it might have defensive purposes. Scale it down, carry heavy weapons, or use it to construct barricades, maybe the initial assault on a building to smash through a wall, but as-is, I wo-“ The mech, as if on-cue, shudders and collapses to the side, smashing into some tables and a few other random devices strewn about. Putting on her best poker face, Isabella decides to move on to some other item.

”So, am I supposed to be scouring around the Island of Misfit Military Innovations, or is there something you need my expertise on?” she asks to Stuka, bumping a scientist to the side to examine a transmutation circle in a sort of pod. ”… And does this do what I think it does?” she asks, tilting her head, pondering over whether to be amazed or horrified. Or both.

[Guest]

He too looked at where she glanced, unknowingly finding a smile creeping up his face by instincts. She was looking at the mech of all things, he found that amusing. Of all the things, is he dealing with an Aerugese anime fan? As all people come to know them as Weeaboo. Or something along those lines, Nikolaus is brushing up on his modern lingo and terminology anyways, those things can be quite hip with the younger folks these days, unlike his generation type, where they had to stick with large oversized phones, those which had huge transmitters worn around the belt, usually. Paving way for the modern cell phone, or the point goes and so on and so forth.

"Interesting start," He nods at that comment, veering away from his position and towards Isabella nonchalantly and a tad bit too subtly, as if he belonged by her side as an ever vigilant observer. "Did this provide any working prototypes? General Black made use of these power armor suits, similar in overall concept. Never got to get a good look at them, though."

Oh, General Black eh? Renowned as the man whose announcements tend to be over the top, cheesy and too hammy as the modern lingo goes. TOO CHEESY. Nikolaus remembers then, he used to be a Lieutenant back at the "Dietrich war", met the monarch of Creta too as well. Sort of a chummy chap, oddly not as evil as many people put him up to be, as a master manipulator of sorts. But he DID goad that Tataki Masu fellow. The General kept silent to see what exactly Isabella was getting at, when she performed transmutation, something that flickered so brilliantly to his eyes, he could see the energy transforming that piece of metal. Steering clear of the sparks, looming over Isabella's leftwise shoulder. Mulling this particular theory of hers over, coming to think of it, West did have their own R&D specialized for power armor combat.

"Western Amestris has its own development over powered armor, it is by sheer coincidence Central has a similar theme. It's quite valuable on a research view point though, we could integrate it into the civil sector as opposed to the military one."

"Is this supposed to be a walking tank? I mean, what, so you can conquer the stairs of the White House or something? Legs are a liability at this size." He looks at the hydraulics of the mech pierced, it was a good thing the machine was stiff, otherwise that particularly vulnerable prototype would have no doubt toppled over. At least that's Stuka's theory on why it didn't exactly fall down soon as it was pierced. "Taking out the treads immobilizes a tank. Taking out the legs renders something like this useless." He steps aside, letting Isabella walk past him, "I mean, it might have defensive purposes. Scale it down, carry heavy weapons, or use it to construct barricades, maybe the initial assault on a building to smash through a wall, but as-is, I wo-"

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

There was a brief silence from the General, this expensive prototype... just fell down... on TOP of the very volatile materials on the table. The General backed away from the spillage that suddenly found itself swarmed by men in white coats gathering up what didn't explode. At least it couldn't get any worse than no--

KABOOM!!

There was a nice two twitches on Nikolaus's eyes at the sight of raining meat spraying all over his blouse, the scientists on the site died, but yet it was overlooked as another day's hazard, cleaned up by another team from the mess. The mech meanwhile was... torn up... that valuable jewel of research... GONE. Nikolaus wasn't really the one damaged here, it was the prototypes!

Suddenly a sharp glare found itself filled with murderous intent inching at Isabella. Before suddenly all hate shrunk away, what aura of death and stabbity stab stab disappeared, as Nikolaus smiled as peacefully as an angel would. It wasn't forced either.

"That damage repair, it's coming out of your salary." His tone carried through in a matter-of-fact style with a pleasant tune, though he couldn't hide that twitch on his gaunt features.

"So, am I supposed to be scouring around the Island of Misfit Military Innovations, or is there something you need my expertise on? … And does this do what I think it does?"

"Oh... that." He took a moment to remember what that device did, taking a look back at some empty space before inclining his head back at Isabella and the pod, moving away from his bloodied spot to look at the device with Galicia. "Have you ever seen the movie, the Fly, Lieutenant Colonel? Because our earlier subjects experienced a phenomenon such as this with these teleportation pods. Our attempts towards overcoming logistics and maintenance of garrisons with an army that can appear anywhere has come to be met with... failure."

He makes a wild gesture. Soon, his hand was met with a bunch of folders filled with photos, presenting them out to Isabella, "Dead, rebounded, wild mutation which eventually leads to death or in some colorful cases... a Chimera. One even came out as a mutant fly-human hybrid wildly bent in. We had to euthanize him, a single gunshot to the head. Its last use was a decade ago." He sighs, "Those were great times."

[Guest]

"That damage repair, it's coming out of your salary." Fuck. Maybe there’d be some way to get out of paying, but… If worst comes to worst, she’d probably have to bite the bullet and do some favors for him. At least he didn’t sign her paychecks…

"Have you ever seen the movie, the Fly, Lieutenant Colonel? Because our earlier subjects experienced a phenomenon such as this with these teleportation pods.” She stared at the circle for a few moments, trying break it down into its component parts Maybe she could learn s-

”Ah! A wild folder appeared! Stuka babbled on about some guy turning into a chimera and getting shot. Pretty logical, considering the top secret nature of the lab. Unethical? Maybe, but that wasn’t her department. Looking through the photos, she can’t help but cringe at some of the things that happened. Rebound, in particular, made her uneasy. It was something she had managed to avoid, but… She wasn’t particularly keen on attempting to force it in order to find out what would happen. ”Is this one even a person?” she asks, looking away and flipping to the next one. ”Anyway, good to know you’ve climbed the ladder quite a bit,” she says, closing the folder, almost gagging. ”Also, you need anything to remove that blood?” she asks, cracking her knuckles. She’d always pondered what color blood would be without any iron, assuming that made any difference. Though, perhaps Stuka preferred a bloodied appearance.

Her eyes were once again scanning around the lab, skipping over the bloody mess that that two-bit mech created when it toppled. She TOLD him it wasn’t any good if it fell. Serves those dicks right. Charging her for that hunk of junk…

”I’m surprised that project got authorized, considering it’s illegal to perform human transmutation,” she comments. ”Plus, where on earth did you find the circle for that? How much testing and experimenting was put into it?” The implications of stupidity or stubbornness were apparent to her. Or, at least, she thought there were implications. ”Anyway, two questions: what’s next on your list, and can I poke holes in them too?”

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

[Guest]

Crushed, destroyed, denied. Eviscerated, emancipated and discombobulated. The processed many results that is spun by the innovative minds of man, their progressive boldness, and their courage to sacrifice as many people not them towards their many experiments otherwise considered unethical by the people, or best not seen. For that reason, had the people seen this, they wouldn't trust the government ever. Of course, many things are done by the military or the government in the past that would've branded them quite untrustworthy.

"Is this one even a person?" She asked.

"That's Jim. And... that's not supposed to be there. That's him there." He points with his thumb behind him, "He has an ass ugly face, not part of the experiment. The experiment should be the one NEXT to him to his right. He was just posing besides it."

"Anyway, good to know you’ve climbed the ladder quite a bit."

"From a sergeant to a Brigadier General in a year." He says in a matter of fact tone, displaying just how fast someone can climb up the ladder despite usual military regulations dictate it takes years to climb up ranks. But in Nikolaus's case, regulations be damned. And also the same in Isabella's.

"Also, you need anything to remove that blood?"

He looks down to notice again he has some of that on his clothing. Some stains that darkened his blouse, which he casually unbuttoned and hung it from his forearm like a rack. He wore a black shirt underneath and it was clear he has suspenders on.

"Some Bleach would be nice from the Naruto laundry store by the One Piece avenue." He says, "This blood isn't some easy shit to wash off easily anyways."

Actually come to think of it, why'd he start showing her this place? She just came into his office, toppled his paperwork, AND she was dead drunk. Oh wait, this one was actually an agreement on her behalf on a plight for help. Ah well, there wasn't any reason to actually disagree with her seeing this place... but so far, those reasons are shrinking with the prodding and the poking of the high tech stuff in this place.

"I’m surprised that project got authorized, considering it’s illegal to perform human transmutation, plus, where on earth did you find the circle for that? How much testing and experimenting was put into it? Anyway, two questions: what’s next on your list, and can I poke holes in them too?"

Ah, authorization. Does she know? Did she need to know? What's there to know for a person a decade and a half younger than Nikolaus? Probably best to spill the beans now anyways, it's not like it'd be any harm. In the selective information that is.

"The projects were authorized by the Fuhrer before Hild. Human Transmutation was an important aspect of the project, to advance our current understanding of Alchemy." He smirks subtly, before grinning, strolling alongside her at the pace she made without going above it, "There were many projects just like this, and some even involved making super soldiers. The super soldier project was ambitious, and demonstrated success as well, but after the Fuhrer was killed, it all fell through in the end. Who knows? There are no more records of the super soldier, they were hidden away, and only a few people alive today, bar the super soldiers themselves, know of this."

Yep, once again Nikolaus had to play the role of the exposition man. This can get tiring explaining things, probably King Dietrich of Creta or General Black had a better talent for these aspects than Nikolaus anyways.

He rubbed his hands now, "Next up on the list is... THAT." He points his finger at the disc-like vehicle that is more akin to a space saucer, with a turbine in the middle as well as several vents around. It was right in front of the pair, "And yes... it is what you think it is exactly. Guzzles fuel like a crack whore on cocaine though, too loud, and has room for two people."

[Shula Brighton]

{BUMP}

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