bohemichaos (bohemichaos) wrote,

[fic] Cut Me Off - Chapter 16 (Part 1) - Hard R

Title: Cut Me Off: Chapter 16 (Part 1)
Author: bohemichaos/WingedBonnie
Pairing(s): Envy X Ed, mentions of Envy X OCs
Genre: AU, drama, angst, porn...
Rating: For this chapter, hard R. NC-17 for the fic overall.
Warnings: Language, sexual descriptions, violence, mentions of drug use
Disclaimer: FMA not mine.
Author’s Note: The rest of this fic (which has already got 18 chapters in total...heh) is hosted at Not really sure what to say, but...hope you enjoy?

Before Martel had gotten me fully inside, I’d managed to convince her that parental contact was first and foremost. I called my mom, giving her the basic run-down of my ‘plans’ for the night so she could pass them on to dad. The story went that Jake and I had stopped by Clause’s to hang out. Of course, having complete trust in me, they hadn’t asked how long I’d be out. Who cared? Their son was well-grounded and not the least bit swayed by worldly influence! My parents’ naivety made my stomach turn; just how many times would I have to repeat the same old line in my head? If only they knew...

Lying was a shitty pass time; it got old pretty quick, but you could only get better at it…which was more incentive to keep at it.

“Don’t you dance, church boy?” Martel asked. Her gaze on me was so narrow it was almost loathsome...perhaps disgusted...just at the prospect of me not being able to dance. DANCE, for Christ sakes! Because, surely, dancing would help me pave the way through life...

If I hadn’t already been on the defensive, the moment past would’ve been the one that triggered all alarms. “NO,” I said, scowling.

She gave me another one of ‘those’ looks and then shrugged, a smile spreading slowly across her elfin face. “Then you’re in for a real treat, Ed.” She leered openly at me, backing towards the chaotic mass of people and pulling at my arm all the while. It was in that moment, of all moments, that I realized she had a slight accent...maybe Irish? None of that really mattered though. Instinct took over and I pulled back, back away from those fangs she was definitely sporting. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into...?

The mindless mass of people was like a hurricane she was trying to sweep me into. What if I never got out? What if I didn't survive and was trampled into oblivion? See? Envy's friends were so reckless and pig-headed. They never even stopped to consider risks.

No way, hell if I am! Keep your stinkin’ treats to yourself!” I cried, resisting her as best as I could.

She made an ‘ooh’ expression, complete with sound effects and everything. The way she pouted her lips in mock hurt made her look pretty flirty...I just hoped to high heaven or some sinful underbelly that I wouldn’t start blushing...that’d only egg her on.

“That wasn’t nice, Eddi-boy!” She tugged even harder on my arm and I gasped as I lurched forward, not believing just how damned strong this chick was. CHICK! Just what was this girl’s damn name again...God, it just had to be the magic word to make her let go of me; now if only I could remember it...Fucking hell...

Martel, cut it out!” I demanded, snapping back into proper reality once her name fell into place.

The ‘magic word’ was obviously null and void; she continued to tug stubbornly. “But it’s my birthday!” she said in exasperation and continued to pull, her grip shockingly strong for a girl.

We were making a bit of a scene with the folks by the bar. Though they were trying their best to do what they usually did and look unfazed, you could see them peer over at us now and then. Some even outright laughed, and then there were bigger guys who just openly stared…I shivered. Suddenly, it seemed that if I didn’t dance with Martel, someone would haul me away and make me dance with them...or something with them instead, and who knew what kind of drug-peddlers or serial killers scouted places like these for boys like me. I mean, c’mon, didn’t I meet Envy on a public bus?

“If you don’t stop fighting me like this...” Martel began, panting slightly like she was salivating over something. “...I might just end up having on crush on you, Eddi-boy,” she purred, her accent coming in thicker now as she bared her fangs.

I stopped instantly, frozen as the word ‘crush’ echoed between my ears. It only took that moment for Martel to pull me fully to her, a full-blown grin now on her face. “Now let’s dance.”

Would someone do me the honor of killing me now? Please?


Sole had me livid. With each and every stride I took through the clusters and jumbles of people, my anger continued to grow more apparent and just the point that I felt I was fucking insane...Insanity wasn’t new to me or anything, but I’d admit it kinda freaked me out when it just came up on me so fast...I hated the thought of not being able to control myself.

But yeah, guess there was something else I should throw in there about me and insanity…me and anger...sometimes it turned me the fuck on; this was one of those times. So I took the effort to calm myself, taking deep, inconspicuous breaths and then sighing out my frustrations. Already, a smirk was starting to tug at the edges of my mouth, beckoning me to frolic in its likeness, I’d guess. C’mon, fuck it all, let’s just party. I could’ve finished its sentence.

Watching the mashed up crowd of people who moved against each other made me grimace. To be honest with myself, this type of dancing didn’t appeal worth a shit to me; all the grinding and suffocating each other...When I did dance, it was for spite...against who...well, I couldn’t tell ya. In general, I could swing my ass off all to spite Greed...then there were those to show up; the kids who thought they were better just by looking at me but had not an ounce of rhythm in their bones...Dancing was a laughable concept to me. Thinking about it, I now realized I hated it. For me, it was the worse way to unwind...just another conquest for my ego to work at. Damnit.

“Never-ending ego fest,” I whispered to myself, in reminder.

There never was anything left to lose, it seemed, so I decided to chill out for a moment. By this time I was somewhere near the bathrooms, the edges of the club where I could observe what was going on the dance floor without being spotted. This area was just that dark…though no less crowded than the rest of the place. Fluorescent lights illuminated the outlines of bodies in different, bright, nauseating colors. Every slight brush against my side as I passed by a fellow junkie alerted my nerves to a possible conquest. Every sense I had was on fire and I found my anger dissolving into something heavier, yet easier to digest...I found it dissolving into an outright lust. My mouth went dry for a moment and I swallowed, pondering to myself what could be next.

You’re thirsty, aren’t cha? Take your ass to the bar, stupid. Fucking night voice. Fucking flaw…it did have a point though. I headed toward the bar. Couldn’t fuck if I was parched now, could I?

You really should find another word to use besides ‘fuck’, Envy. You’ve been using it a lot lately, you dull bastard.

“Shut the fuck up,” I murmured absently to myself as I stretched through the mass of people, somehow making it through the tight throng as if by osmosis.

I sat down, watching as Law shook his head in a firm ‘no’ to some poor sap that had already exceeded the alcohol limit. The limit was pretty high and it was pretty gosh darned early...Poor bastard must’ve had a rough day or was just plain retarded.

The broad-shouldered Law finally made it my way, the man’s confiscated liquor still in hand.

“What’s good, Law?”

“Hnn,” Law hardly ever did more than grunt. I would say that when he did speak, it was incredibly funny or some redeeming shit like that, but I wasn’t the type to redeem people. Law was stiff as a poorly-made dildo, less genial than a rock, and pretty intimidating, so when there was a devastating fluke in the tapestry of time, and the dude spoke in the de-facto sense, it was something pretty dry and concise-like...Say someone had just kicked Law in the ass, he’d just grunt all business-like, “Please remove your foot from my ass.”

Dead serious; no signs of pain, just a simple, subtle demand.

Hell if I couldn't use that kinda power.

The good thing about that kind of attitude was that I could act as much of a fool as I wanted and Law would just ignore me. Watch:

“Anyone in particular I gotta fuck around here to get a drink?”

Law: “Hnn.” Insert stern look. Law goes off to get drink. Presto. This concludes another episode of small talk with Law. Great fucking job, guys.

Well yeah, it wasn’t my job to entertain or win people over, really, so I just shrugged the snub off and grinned despite myself. Can’t win ‘em all.

So Law stalked off just a like a nice, big undead king to go get me my drink and I just sat around, surveying the area. Some really creepy, yet appetizing-looking girls sat here and there. One thing I always noticed about this place: the girls here usually considered themselves too hardcore to hang with other girls. They either came here alone, or accompanied by some Nazi-looking guy friend. Maybe even a pimp. And the ones who came in nice little estrogen-packed clusters...Well, you could tell that this wasn’t really their scene…they just needed a bit of excitement to get their tampons wet.

Law returned a second later, and before he could hightail it back to whatever stimulating activity he’d previously been occupied with, I waved him closer. “Hey, when ya get the chance, can ya send Doro out? I wanna talk to him.”

Law gave another one of those ‘got-it’ grunts and was gone. A chuckle escaped me. He really could care less what went on here. So much for security.

I slugged a lethal amount of whatever Law had bought me this time and thanked all hellish entities in the vicinity that it burned the way it should. Ridiculous as it sounded, that cleared my head a bit and allowed me to think of other things besides that damned Sole.

Calling for Doro hadn’t been my original plan when I’d gotten here, but if there was any way to deal with Kimblee’s business in the fire-starter’s absence, it was Dorochet. I was planning to buy from the fat ass and maybe ask him a bit about the shitty heroine he was selling me…That shit hadn’t been doing me any good the last few weeks and I could feel my body starting to miss the psychological gratification. Damned if I didn’t feel more stressed than I usually would’ve been about anything. I mean, c’mon? Wasting the time to blow up at Sole when I knew that, by next week, we’d be fucking like jack rabbits again? Now that I thought about it, I was kinda starting to feel like a jackass…a jackass that needed a damned good fix.

I sighed and slugged it again.

Heroine and I had – like most ill-fated couples of drug and junkie – met by complete accident. Drugs weren’t even my thing until some time around the end of freshman year. I hung with Sole, met people, had lots of sex, but just never bothered much with drugs. Sure, I’d take a hit if someone offered me a cigarette or blunt during the chaos of all those wild nights, but for the most part, I left all that alone. And I think that said a lot about me, considering the fact that Sole took me places where the scene was made up of nothing but saps either fucking or shooting themselves up into a coma…lots of raves. Definitely a good bit of those...clubs and orgies.

Now that I thought about it...What the hell was Sole thinking taking a 14-going-on-15-year-old to those types of places? Not that I was complaining, but…

Point is, I was only an occasional heroine user, even now. I wasn’t too crazy about the idea of becoming some big-time addict and staking all my life force on some needle...I mean, I did say I was a control freak...

Doro was rubbing the sleep out his eyes with big, greasy-looking paws (his hands) when I spotted him coming out the back. Dorochet Docmott practically lived here. Scratch that: he did live here. The guy had no home whatsoever, and when he wasn’t here, he was sleeping over at some girl’s house or getting a blow job at the barber shop. I was pretty sure the guy was wanted for a Central Park rape or some shit like that, but what the hell did I care? He was only the guy who sold me my stashes. If he kidnapped girl scouts and fucked them silly on his spare time, it was no concern of mine.

“Whad’dya want now?” Doro yawned, fixing himself a glass of his own tonic and giving another particularly-loud yawn.

Dorochet rotten sex: stale semen and chicken noodle soup...or at least what I imagined it might smell like.

“Have you ever considered taking a bath before putting yourself on duty? No one wants drinks from a greasy bar man who smells like last week’s sex,” I sniped.

Dorochet gave me a glare before ditching his tonic and pulling out a bottle of beer instead. He chugged the whole bottle down and was already reaching for another one within what seemed like seconds. Pretty sure he did it out of spite – he’d only smell worse when he was through.

“Fat ass,” I mumbled, though Doro wasn’t actually fat; he was just big-boned, really. I liked calling him ‘fat ass’ anyway. It made me smile when everything else on me wanted to wilt.

I swear Doro woke up and chugged beer the same way a normal person would wake up and brush their teeth. It was nauseating to watch sometime. Beer tasted like piss, really, and watching people drink it made my mouth feel funny. I never understood why people liked the shit so much.

When the guy was finished inhaling his daily five-or-so bottles of Bud, I had to resist the urge to applaud, not having witnessed the whole ritual before. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and gave the ‘aah’ sound I’d come to hate since that fateful run-in with Steely McTightAss. That sound was the stuff of nightmares.

“So what were you saying, V?” V. It had to be the worst nickname anyone had ever given me, just for the simple fact that it was so damned unoriginal. I could’ve given birth to a down syndrome-stricken chimpanzee and I betcha he would’ve been able to come up with that name. Thank fuck, Doro forgot nicknames regularly and had to come up with new ones daily, often recycling the same ones over and over...‘Envy’ was already short enough, for fuck’s sake.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout buying a load of smack-”I smacked my lips on the word for emphasis“-and just doing away with myself.” I sighed dramatically, batting my eyelashes as a manic, depressive, ‘Lifetime-special’ heroine-addict might, making a gesture as if sawing my wrist.

“As long as ya pay before you take the plunge, I could care less,” Doro said on a dirty belch.

A grin spread across my face despite my disgust. Now the air around me smelled like fart and digested alcohol…

Why was making a business transaction with Doro such a struggle for my nose?

“Oh, Doro, I can always count on you to be the fat, disgusting bastard without feelings. The world needs more lard asses like you.” I chuckled dryly, taking another gulp of alcohol.

Dorochet burped again, probably not realizing how serious I was about all that ‘the-world-needing-less-people-with-feelings’ jazz. In the instance that an emotional cleansing actually occurred, it could definitely take Sole and all his stupid feelings with it…straight to the gallows or gas chambers, or wherever people with too many feelings could be executed by thousands. Suited me just fine.

“Ya darned skippy,” said Doro. He summoned another bottle of beer into his grasp and took a swig, refraining from another chug fest so he could keep his ear open for business. How sweet.

“Well yeah, seriously, this shit barely cuts it anymore. I’m nearly out anyway,” I began.

Dorochet gave me a stupid look, running a hand through his greasy hair. He was very protective of his illegal merchandise. “What? The smack?”

I sighed, nodding my head back and forth. “If we have to persist with such corny terminology, then sure, yeah, the ‘smack’.” I gave him finger-quotes to emphasize my loathing for the word. One thing heroine and I have in common, guys: we both have to put up with corny nicknames. Damnit.

Dorochet rubbed the back of his head then went into full-out scratching mode, probably casting a whole cloud of lice and dandruff in my direction without me being able to see it.

“Fuck, Doro, do you want me to come back when you’ve taken a fucking shower? That shit’s disgusting,” I snapped, tired of sitting in front of a guy who’d belched fart and alcohol in my face. I wasn’t that crazy about heroine that I’d sit through much more of this.

Dorochet glared lazily at me. “So you wanna buy?” he pressed, ignoring my rude insistence that he take a shower before dealing.

“Not if it won’t work,” I gritted out, patience worn thin. Damned if I was an idiot. Chances were I’d have to raise the dose – though that was a move I was wary of making; usually, when something got worn out, whether it was a person or game, I just dropped it and moved on. But I needed something to pass the time with when I was having one of those really shitty days...something to block all the shit in my head about Greed…an escape pod. A precaution; like abandoning a ship in the event that it was sinking on fire or under siege…all that metaphorical crap. Heroine had made me fell pretty good in the past, like right after I found out about...

Dorochet then leaned over the counter, openly leering at me. “You know damn well what you gotta do to get it goin’ again. Don’t be a cheapo, Envy.” Well, at least he only thought I was apprehensive because of tight funds. That was damn well better than the truth: that I just might be trying to pussy out on the drug. Well, I was never a punk, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna start being one now.

Naturally, I sucked it up and tried to act like I was enthusiastic about the idea of getting hooked. It was fucking great. Yeah, c’mon guys, let’s all go get mind-crippling addictions! It’s all the rage!

“I’m not feeling that idea too much,” was my flat response.

Doro, who seemed to find every and all things hilarious tonight, began laughing, only to go into a coughing fit. He groped desperately for his bottle of beer, which I kindly pushed into his grasp, and began chugging to drown the coughing fit. Damned alcoholic. Ack.

“You done?”

“That all depends on your old lady,” Dorochet spat with a nasty look that I gladly returned. His eyes were bloodshot…Hadn’t this guy just woke up?

“I doubt it,” came my curt reply. “Any old lady I’ve ever had is dead.”

Dorochet looked slightly miffed by this, but shrugged. “So what’s this about you not feeling the whole heroine idea? What’s the matter? Afraid of death?” When I didn’t respond as quickly as I normally would have, Doro cut right on, “You, the guy who’s been fucking the Lord of the Flame for almost a good two or three years running?”

I gave a wry smile. Don’t remind me. Right now, ‘fuck’ was the last word I wanted to hear in a sentence with the likes of Kimblee. Unless that sentence was ‘Kimblee can go fuck himself’. That would do.

“Well, to be honest, I wasn’t planning on dying just yet.” Chances were that if I didn’t kick the bucket due to full-blown AIDS, I’d probably just OD at some point down the line. That’s not to say that I’d purposely overdose, but it was just expected. Guys like me didn’t warrant any death that was better than that…not unless it was by a gunshot wound to the head. That was indeed a possibility that I’d purposely do given the chance…especially if guys like Doro kept burping in my face.

“Look, I’ll level with you,” Dorochet began as if he was the natural pacifist. “You remember the starting dose, right?”

Well, no shit, I did. How could I just forget it like that? At least 20 mg...“Uh huh.”

“Well, just keep kicking it up a notch until it feels the way it felt when you first tried it – only better. I’d say two or three pegs.”

“Wow, aren’t you a real daredevil…? Where are all your needles, Doro?” Sarcasm. Pure sarcasm brought on by my skepticism.

Doro laughed heartily, making him seem fatter than he really was yet again. “I’m more of a pot man,” he said in a curiously-proud manner.

“Riiight…because nothing says ‘power sophistication and nerve’ like a nice fat roll of some good pot, right?” Again, sarcasm.

Doro wrinkled his nose at me. “Whatever, man.” He continued speaking over the obvious yawn he was trying to suppress, “So you gonna buy some shit or what?”

“Yeah yeah, later tonight,” I waved him off. Not like he could sell the shit to me at this particular moment anyway.

He grinned. “Great. Now that that’s taken care of…sad thing it is about Bruno and Sonny, huh?”

I shrugged. “I suppose; if you actually cared about the losers…then yeah. Guess it would be a sad thing. Hum.” I picked at my nails indifferently before picking up my glass and gesturing for it to be filled. Doro complied, taking a bottle from under the counter and tipping a good load Smirnoff into my glass. I took a large gulp of the fizzy mixture in thanks. Alcohol that tasted like soda was a pretty dangerous thing to have lying around...

Truthfully – hey, it’s your lucky day, Doro! – I’m glad the bastard’s dead and gone. He was a real grade ‘A’ piece of shit: Piece-O-Crap-O. And Sonny...let’s not even talk about Sonny!”

Ever since Bruno went and turned up dead, people had been giving me odder looks than usual, scurrying out my way a bit faster and even shocking themselves into silence in my very presence. Amusing, really. I hated talking about the both of them. Perhaps if Bruno and I had left off on a better note, I wouldn’t be so loathsome toward his memory; instead, just indifferent. But now, when people brought him up, all I could ever think of was him smashing me into the bathroom wall like he did, getting ready to make me bend over and take it in the ass like I was his whore. His. Like he owned me. Personally, I was tired of taking that rough shit from people when it was clear I wasn’t in the mood. Didn’t I get enough of that from Greed?

“Rumor around the high school is that you killed ‘em,” Dorochet said pointedly. Ah yes, that was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Whether I off-ed Bruno and used Sonny to cover it up...

I snorted. “How would you know what word is around the high school? Aren’t you supposed to have graduated from there like five times over by now?” My snickering seemed to offend Dorochet.

“Hard de har har; I have contacts, thank you very much.”

“Ahhh, which is code for ‘I screw underage girls’. It’s all so clear now.”

Dorochet shrugged this particular line off. “Well, point is, Bruno was a cool dude. We could kick back and catch a smoke together now and then, ya know? Like brothers or something.” Oh, that was rich.

I nodded as if I completely understood this supposed kinship he spoke of. Whatever. “You guys ever fuck?” I asked.

Dorochet twisted his face up, as if the idea was completely appalling to him. Yeah, join the club. I’d worn that face a good third of my sixteen odd years.

“Bruno and I are too macho for each other. We like ‘em soft.” He grinned lecherously at me and now, it was my turn to wear ‘the face’.

“Whatever ya say.”

There was a moment of silence before a light bulb seemed to flicker to life in Doro’s mind. I should’ve congratulated him on the accomplishment. “By the way, why didn’t you just go to Martel about the heroine? She makes the stuff.”

I took another drink from my glass, actually tasting the alcohol this time. I was wondering absently why I had ever started drinking in the first place. “But YOU sell it. I don’t need that many bodies in my business…”

“Oh, I get it! You don’t want McGohlavin chewing your ass out,” he said slyly, as if we shared some secret.

My answer to this was to recoil, letting Doro know that there was nothing shared between us but a nice dose of agitation. As if Sole could chew me out...pshhh...“Sole can kiss my ass. Why would I be afraid of him?” was my offhanded question.

I was really not expecting an answer, but Doro decided to push the big, shiny button. It’s all an idiot knows how to do. “Because Sole is your little buddy. And you know he hates heroine. It’s what did his sister in.” He nodded thoughtfully.

“Sole doesn’t have a sister.”

“That’s not what the word around-”

Whatever, Doro,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear about his stupid, fuck-forsaken contacts again. “My point to be made is that Sole’s a pussy; he doesn’t have the balls to get on heroine,” I drawled.

This time, Dorochet recoiled, making an ‘ouch’ face. “You’re craaaaazzzy!” he howled with laughter. “You’re not even an official addict yet, and you already got the whole junkie-pride thing going on. Envy, I think you’ll make a great heroine-user. I commend ya, kid.”

Doro. Such an asshole.

I picked up the bottle of Smirnoff sitting between us and tipped a significant amount into my glass.

“Well, I did say that I’d hook you up and will. I just gotta warn you about the price raises. You’ve picked a bad time to start kicking up the doses, my friend.”

My ear instantly tuned in on ‘raising prices’. I hardly missed a beat when it came to throwing cash to the wind. Something that had rubbed off from Greed, I’d guess. “Raising prices? What the hell for?”

Dorochet nodded in understanding…then widened his eyes in realization, as if having finally understood something. “They haven’t told you the full details of your job,” he stated. Well wasn’t that peachy? Seem I was the only one who didn’t know about this job. Gee, thanks.

“Details? Other than the killing part? Pshhh…they haven’t even verified who the lucky schmuck is yet.”

Dorochet reached back and pulled up a stool so that he could sit real close up to the bar and lean in on me. Reluctantly, I too, moved a bit closer. I had figured it must be of some importance if he’d go through the steps to be discreet in a place where at least half, if not all the clients, were either stoned, intoxicated, or too busy dancing to care.

“Well, your guy’s this cop, right?” Since I had no clue, I just nodded. It was the best way to go. This was enough for Dorochet to continue, “Yeah, so the guy’s this cop. Name is Maes Hughes…For the last few months, he’s been snooping around, checking out a few loose ends, and just makin’ an overall nuisance of himself. Keeps overturning that damned Rockbell case...”

“I thought they put the Rockbell case to rest? Trusted doctor gets caught out there on account of drug-peddling, possible homicide charges...What’s there to debate? We set him up perfectly.” I was pretty sure we did. I had been the one spending the most time around Tucker back then, making sure he wouldn’t screw up and suddenly gain a heart for his co-worker…the one who was gonna be the scapegoat for all the screwing-up that had supposedly been done by our little group.

Doro wagged his finger at me in a mocking manner. “Nuh-uh-uh...nothing is ever perfect, my friend; especially not when it comes to this sort of business. You should know they’re looking at Kimblee now...the guy already has all these suspicious arson cases with his name floating around in them; definitely doesn’t help his rep that he was known to have been in contact with Shou Tucker...”

I waved all this information off. I had said that tonight wasn’t the night for business. I wanted to have fun...not talk about Kimblee’s dirty record. “So what does this have to do with the random price-raising?” An eyebrow was raised by me in question.

Dorochet grinned. “Well, this business is getting as dangerous as shit with that cop sniffing about. Labor increases, prices go up.” Spoken like a true, greasy business man.

“What labor?” came my incredulous response.

Dorochet continued to grin. “As I said: it’s dangerous as hell now, man. Someone’s gotta pay for it.”

“So you’re making other people pay for your own greedy risk?”

“Someone’s gotta pay,” he repeated, shrugging.

“Sounds criminal,” I remarked.

“Never claimed we were anything but.” Dorochet crossed his arms on the bar, looking smug.

It was my turn to grin as I took my glass to my mouth again, taking a large mouthful. I sighed in satisfaction. “Well, you should know I’m not paying that.” A simple statement; one I’m not going to argue. Heroine was pricey enough. “I practically run you guys; pedaling my pretty ass for you losers...”

Dorochet snorted. “You ain’t lying…and speaking of pedaling, I hear Sole is still on the Rockbell detail himself.” Is having the gift of the gab a requirement for bar-tending? Because if so, I’d probably be pretty darn good at it…though I can’t say I’d care about others’ problems much.

“Yeah,” I made a non-committal noise and turned sideways at the bar, trying to locate Ed and Martel...maybe even Sole.

“It’d be great if he found that shit. We’d be making tons of dough then.”

There was a lame shrug on my part. I was starting to grow bored, maybe even listless. I gotta get some sort of funk into my system…and quick. “It’s a work in progress. He can’t just snap his fingers and command the girl to take him to her father’s drug index or something.”

“Why the hell not?” Dorochet asked in an obnoxious manner.

Why the hell not, indeed, I thought.

“Isn’t that what he’s supposed to be working for? So he can have her eating out the palm of his hand?” I ignored Dorochet, and we once again lapsed into silence.

The lazy schmuck finally sighed, looking down the bar before giving me a curious, almost mischievous look. Doro probably did have something. I bet I could’ve had it done by now. I could’ve done her. Despite my confidence in the arts of seduction, I was glad it wasn’t my assignment. I really couldn’t get it up at the thought of screwing Winry. So not appealing.

“There’s a guy down there you might wanna tumble with before the night’s over,” Dorochet said, changing the subject.

I picked at my fingernails. Another something that had failed to arouse me…another something that was ‘so-not-appealing’. “I doubt it. I think I’m hungry for some females tonight. I-I don’t know,” I sighed, giving a lame glance in the direction Doro was so intently staring.

Sure enough, there was an attractive-looking guy at the other end of the bar, obviously drunk off his ass. There was a shock of orange hair partially covering one side of his face.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Well shit,” I breathed.

“What?” Doro asked.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “Nothing. But tell me, why the hell would I want that guy over there?” I nodded my head in the direction of Havoc. Why indeed? Drunk guys weren’t very attractive. When you were not drunk yourself, they actually looked quite retarded. Did I look that retarded when I was buzzed?

“Think about it…the guy you gotta nab is this cop, and I know for a fact that the guy over yonder is a cop too; one who works in the same building as our dear Hughes friend? Wink wink? Nudge nudge?” Dorochet was obviously eager for me to sell my ass tonight.

I couldn’t say I was as enthused as he seemed to be by the prospect of shameful, monetary inclined abandon. “That’s a good point, but one I can easily ignore. I’m not up to the business tonight.” My shoulders sagged and I looked away, having found Ed and Martel among the throng of people. Ed was definitely not moving much. He looked downright beat. I was beat too.

“Aww c’mon, we got the guy nice and sloshed for ya...we made it easy. Just go over there, switch your scrawny ass a bit, talk him up, get him in the back and make a couple of bucks. Get some info out of ‘im.”

I was inclined to ignore the scrawny bit. That word sucked ass…I hated it. I wouldn’t even use it to refer to someone else...wait...forget it. I would. I am a smart ass – we use everything.

“Guy’s probably not even into that shit. And what makes you think he’ll say anything the least bit important when he’s that wasted?” I mean, c’mon; inebriation isn’t exactly an interrogation-friendly state of mind. It was downright counter-productive...unless you were trying to make an ass out of yourself. It was pretty damned expedient to that cause.

“Oh, so you’re doubting your abilities now?” Dorochet grinned.

No, but I hate fucking drunk guys. They suck ass,” I retorted.

“So? Get the guy sloshed enough and it won’t matter whether or not he’s fucking a girl, boy, or zebra,” argued Dorochet, causing me to take a heavy swig of alcohol. Hmph, he would know. He probably fucked zebras all the time...dogs, cats, and rats too. And that Russell, pshhh, he’d be better off cramming his cock into a Manhattan garbage disposal. But back to the matter at hand...

“I still hate fucking drunk guys Doro.”

“How many times have you fucked around when drunk?”

“That’s different; I’m getting fucked, I can afford to pass out, and I have a strict policy when it comes to drunkenness: if I’m drunk, whoever I fuck with is gonna be drunk. Besides…a guy like that is just gonna go to sleep on me…and then, I’ll get stuck. And I don’t wanna get stuck under a horny, sleeping, drunk cop.” I knew I sounded ridiculous, but I didn’t care. A scowl came to my face to emphasize my point, but it didn’t last long since I was feeling pretty tipsy myself by now. You think I’d be happier, buzzing joyously like a holiday wino. No siree.

“Envy, get your ass over there,” the tubby one finally snapped, causing me to whine my surrender.

Fine,” I relented, mainly because I had nothing else to do; it was either screw the hopelessly-inebriated cop, or suffer under Dorochet’s infuriating stabs at conversation. Such an asinine decision to make, really.

“I’mma get my ass to work too,” Dorochet swore, as if that’d make my whoring seem all the better. Because surely, it’d feel okay to sell my ass if Doro was on duty too! Gumdrops, rainbows, and joy, oh my!

“Better take a shower first,” was all I said.

And with that, I was sliding my way towards Havoc, remembering that he hadn’t seemed too bad a guy when I had last seen him. That didn’t mean I wanted to fuck him though...

Tonight definitely wasn’t my night.


On To Part 2!
Tags: chapter 16, cut me off, envy/ed, fic, fma, part 1
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