The Sum of Our Parts [OPEN]

Oliver sat in the lounge area overlooking the training field in the Eastern Headquarters. His metal right arm tinked against the table as he tapped his fingers out of pure boredom. He simply needed for something to happen, something to occur so interesting that he would be able to pull himself out of this slump that was his command in East City. The war efforts in the north drew his attention, he knew he would probably be sent there eventually, but for the moment, Briggs had it held together quite nicely. Either way, he just looked forward to the excitement that war could provide, it was rather boring usually for an immortal like himself. Well, probably not immortal, but he had never really sought after death, so he preferred to keep himself in the dark on that one. Sighing as he stood from the table, he made his way over to the fridge where he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, the least he could do was drown his boredom in some 101. Touching the countertop, it would form into a shot glass, part of the counter having been transmuted. He really hoped no one had noticed his lack of a circle, but he figured most people would chalk it up to a hidden circle on his hand or something like that, they usually did. Though, he found for a lot of simple things, he didn't need to even clap his hands together to preform alchemy. He had been studying up on something researched by the Amestrian government in secret for years, but no one had ever provided any substantial proof, something called... the Philosopher's Stone.

Footsteps could be heard throughout the hallway leading up to the lounge area containing Brigadier-General Armstrong, and the man himself might notice that the various attendants that often scurried the halls of East Headquarters suddenly shot to attention, saluting someone behind them before they were waved off. The new arrival was tall, around an inch or so more than Oliver himself, and had around twenty more pounds of muscle than the senior officer. His tanned skin and white hair were distinctive, and many would often immediately think of an Ishvalan, but his features were wrong. The tan was even, but more golden and sun-kissed than the leathery, earthen tones of the people who rebelled not so long ago, and the white hair was too snowy, as if the pigment had completely drained out through general stress instead of growing in silvery. The biggest giveaway to who the other uniformed man was? The golden eyes that gleamed with a startling amount of intellect for someone so young. You could practically count on your fingers the number of people in the Amestrian military with Xerxian heritage at the moment, as the couple hundred descendants of survivors tended to isolate themselves.

As the man sat down across from Armstrong, the rank insignia of a Brigadier-General could be seen on the collar of the blue Amestrian uniform, and a silver chain peeked out from a pocket and connected to his lapel. The particular chain, Oliver would note, was familiar, as it could be found somewhere on his own body attached to his State Alchemist's pocketwatch.

Reaching over for a handshake, the other high-ranking officer would smile with startlingly-white teeth and introduce himself. "You're Oliver Armstrong, the Flash Alchemist, right? It's a pleasure to meet you finally! I'm Shane Wolfe."

Admittedly, Shane didn't know how the other officers and NCO's in earshot would react to his designation as a State Alchemist, but he knew that the other man would likely have heard of it.

After all, being known as the Undead Alchemist was a hassle when others didn't realize the connotations.

Oliver turned as he heard the bustle in the area slow down, noticing a man initially put into the category of rare Ishvallans that aligned themselves with the military, he saw a couple of things that instantly made it clear he was not looking at an Ishvallan. Firstly, the golden eyes that were held exclusively by the survivors of Xerxes or those descended from them. Secondly, would be the silver chain, no doubt linked to a state alchemist pocket watch. This alone would prove the man was not from ishval as they still resented the practice of alchemy with a heated ferver. Taking the man's hand into his own in a respectful grip mastered from his time in the military, he recognized the man after only a few moments. "Ah, the Undead Alchemist, the pleasure is mine. What brings you all the way here? Last I heard, you were stationed in Briggs?" He took a sip of his whiskey, turning out of the way to leave room for the other man to take some if he wanted. The alchemy marks on the counter were faded, but there. Oliver would move to the side and lean on the wall next to the counters, "Surely it isn't that the war has gotten too much for you?" It may have been a lackluster joke, but being one of the few soldiers still serving who experienced the turmoil in Ishval twenty years ago, he knew more of war than most. His right arm gave off phantom pains at the remembrance of when he lost it. At the gate, looking into the soulless face of one called 'god'.

Smiling at the subtle offering of whiskey, Shane would subtly clap his hands together by pretending to rub them together, then draw a circle in a small bit of condensation on the table to transmute a glass to pour himself something to drink. Taking a sip of the rather expensive drink, the younger alchemist's shoulders would slump slightly before he answered. "I was ordered to go on leave by the brass. Apparently I had been there four times longer than the average deployment to the Wall. I'll certainly admit that it was...haunting, to say the least. My replacement for the moment, Lt. Colonel Sharps, is way too pompous. I'm terrified for my boys."

Sharps was a name Oliver would have heard. He was a veteran of the war against the Ishvalan Resistance, and was known for coming up with strategies that often ended in Pyrrhic victories. Not only that, but he was an ass.

Oh yes, Oliver knew that bastard. When they had served together during the Ishval Conflict, the man had killed him. Literally. It is why the man had been transferred to North Command after the war, because Oliver had sworn to kill him should he ever see him again. Though for what reason the top brass didn't fire the man was beyond him, but hey, that's why they get paid the big bucks. "Yeah, I know him. We served together during the war. Keep an eye on him." He still held a lot of animosity for the man, not only because of the fact that the bastard killed him without even batting an eye, but for the fact the man was one of the scientists that used him to activate the Human Transmutation circle to create the Philosopher's Stone. He held a grudge against the man that had been going strong for nearly two decades. "So, they say you can't die. Is that true?" Deciding to switch things over to a lighter subject, Oliver would look over to his fellow Brigadier General with a raised eyebrow. His deep blue orbs looking calculative and slightly skeptical. I mean, even HE died.

Shane's mouth thinned into a tight line as he thought about the idiot subordinate he had been given by the leaders of the Amestrian military. He had a nasty reputation for killing his own men, and his own personal reports seemed to have been ignored when he spoke of the man's sheer incompetence. Soldiers were human, not machines, and the man didn't seem to understand that. Looking back at Oliver when he asked a question that promised a far more intriguing, and less worrying, line of conversation, the Xerxian smirked. Clapping his hands together, the hum of alchemical energy priming itself could be heard before glowing lines of blue energy began to spread itself across the skin visible through his uniform, forming itself into various complicated arrays.

Reaching up and grabbing a pen out of his uniform pocket, Shane winked at the Flash Alchemist before stabbing himself in the temple, driving the impromptu weapon straight into his brain. Slumped over on the table, one could see the bit of blood leaking out from the wound begin to drag itself back into the seemingly-dead man's body as he limply began flopping at the spike driven into a lethal location. Finally getting a grip on the thing, he pulled it out of his head with a sickening squelch before the light of an alchemical reaction could be seen sparking from the hole, healing it without a mark.

Of course, the panicking orderlies screaming and running about like chickens that had their heads removed was both amusing and problematic, but one couldn't blame them. Most of them likely thought they had just witnessed an extremely-high ranking officer commit suicide. Chuckling at this, the Undead Alchemist dropped the bloody instrument of paperwork onto the table. "So, does that answer your question?"

Oliver maintained his calm expression as the Undead Alchemist started his demonstration. The moment the white haired man clapped his hands to begin the transmutation however, Oliver's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Had this man been to the gate? Watching as he stabbed himself and fell over, Oliver was about to actually grow concerned, the screams and shouts of the bystanders that saw the exchange weren't helping. But, when he saw the boy sit up and the wound to heal in such a similar manner to how his own heal, aside from the fact the energy was blue, signifying that it was a natural alchemical reaction. That meant that this man had somehow found a way to replicate the healing abilities granted by the stone, albeit, he had no idea what the limits to this man's abilities were, he did know the stone could run out of souls. Either way, it was extremely impressive. "Indeed it did. I've never seen such a powerful healing alchemy before. Say, where did you learn to transmute just by clapping? I bet some of the Alchemists around here would pay a large amount of Cenz to learn that trick." It was a semi-innocent question, any alchemist worth their salt would want to learn to do that. If this kid had some way to teach it, he could get rich fast. Only, Oliver knew there was no way to teach that. One simply had to sacrifice themselves for it.

Shane's smile flickered for a moment as Oliver asked in an innocent manner about his lack of a transmutation circle. He had noticed the man's eyes narrowing when he had initiated his ability, meaning that he knew at least something about the process. Cutting off the flow of energy to the artificial Dragon's Pulse that healed his body, he took a sip of his whiskey before flicking his eyes back and forth, examining who all was in the room. Satisfied, he stared the other State Alchemist in the eye and replied. "I know of quite a few alchemists that would kill for the ability to transmute without a circle, but the...Truth of the matter is that you can't. You know that better than most, don't you?"

Shane glanced briefly at the automail right arm of the legendary Flash Alchemist before looking him in the eye once more. The pieces certainly fit together, but it would take an admission, no matter how subtle, from the other man to confirm it. Had he stared into the face of God, and if so when had it happened?

So, his answer and reaction to Oliver's question basically proved he was correct. But, the fact that the man's energy from his transmutation had been blue meant he didn't have a stone. So, perhaps he had stumbled across the gate another way? It didn't matter, this conversation needed to be more private as there were too many potential spies in the area for his liking. Deciding to answer the man with his own, seemingly unrelated question. "How much do you know of your heritage?" He would then begin speaking in the almost dead language of Xerxian. "You have seen the gate and learned of the truth. When and how?" It was less of a question and more of a statement laced with some urgency. A sense that it may have been something of a demand would not be far fetched, but Oliver was now more curious than he was upset that the boy had committed the ultimate taboo. But, who was he to judge? He had been made to do the same thing, though given their appearances and what he currently knew, they had vastly different experiences there. What price did this boy pay? Did the truth give him a free pass? No, that being worked on equivalent exchange. No, that being WAS equivalent exchange. He prepared himself to tell his own story, at least some of it. That is how alchemists worked after all.

The Undead Alchemist raised a single eyebrow as his counterpart switched over to a dead language, giving something that was half-statement, half-question in response to his words. So, he was right in that the older man had met Truth. "So, I take it you've met him too? I was fourteen when I saw the Gate. I was experimenting in trying to create a false form of immortality, and finally thought I had it. Unfortunately, the array I used wasn't the more refined one I have now. I had actually stumbled upon a Human Transmutation array. Truth...Well, apparently he was amused by the fact that I had refused to attempt bringing someone back to life out of respect, instead attempting to prevent myself from dying and hurting others that I got close to. He showed me everything, knowing that it would help me finish my array, for the price of one of my body's hormones, creating a chemical imbalance that rendered me medically sterile. Ironic, isn't it? I can live forever, but can never pass on anything to the next generation. What about you?"

Interesting. That was the only thought he had on the white haired boys story. It was interesting indeed to get more of the Truth's personality in the way of another person's experience with it. It seemed that it was a sadistic fucker. Sighing in an aged manner, Oliver would begin his tale, at least the abridged version. "Well, most of my story is classified. It happened during the Ishvallan Conflict, I was a freshly minted State Alchemist at the time, excited to serve my country. I was placed on a team of scientists researching a... particular resource that could put Amestris at the head of all other countries' wildest dreams. I was tricked into preforming a human transmutation and was..  fortunate enough to meet the truth. He seemed to find amusement that I had been fooled into the ordeal and took my arm as penance for his knowledge. I also gained a form of immortality that day, but it is also classified. Perhaps i'll tell you one day, should you earn my trust fully. But, as it stands, you never know who is listening. So, revealing too much classified information could be dangerous, particularly given the amount that I hold within me." It was why he had never been stationed outside of Eastern Command. They had to keep their most valuable asset on a tight leash, lest the world have a chance to get their hands on the knowledge he held. Much less the stone that replaced his heart.