So there's this boy.

Now, I don't consider myself a stalker by any means, nor would I even have noticed if it was anyone other than him, but there's this boy who walks across the street right outside of my apartment every day. And for some reason, I just can't stop thinking about him…

The apartment we live in–'we' being my sister, mother and I–isn't very large. It's a two bed-one bath affair, located just outside the factory district in Central City. The place is cramped, to be sure, with the three of us, but there is one thing about it that I have always loved; it has a secret place.

I discovered it when I was very young, probably about seven. We live on the top floor of an old complex, and one day I discovered a trap door behind an old dresser that came with the place while I was hiding from my younger sister. It was covered in wallpaper, but I took my father's knife to the edges one day when my ma' wasn't looking and sliced through it. There's a small pathway inside that leads to a ladder, and then a rather spacious loft with a window overlooking the city. I fell in love that day, and it took my ma' a few days to even coax me out of my new little hidey-hole. She reckons that this old apartment used to be a hideout for refugees during the cultural reform, back when the military was ejecting those that did not agree with their ideals. But now it is just a home for a single mother and her kids that just so happens to have an amazing place for a young man to spend his time in when the stress and trials of living with two women get to him.

That's where I am now. I smile fondly out at the city as I recall how ecstatic my ma' had been when I discovered the room. She seemed so happy to have extra space for us when she was paying rent for much less than we really had. Of course my sister was too, and as soon as I was old enough not to need ma' in the middle of the night, I was able to move out of sis's room and into my new loft. Thank heavens.

After that I made it my own. Dozens of charcoal sketches of the city hang from the slanted ceiling of my little space, and an easel sits by the window. There isn't space for a bed, so I have a thick feather mattress I sleep on that I can fold up in the corner when I'm not using it. Luckily there was already a small dresser boot that I found in the space, so I didn't have to figure out how to get one through the crawlway. The floor is littered with charcoal sticks and paintbrushes, though I don't have any paint at the moment. Sometimes ma' can afford a small pot of ink from the newspaper printer she works for, but I mostly dabble in the coal sticks the man across the street can snag from his factory job. My friends often joke that I'm covered in the stuff so often that I might as well be a factory worker myself.

I strain my eyes slightly as I stare out the small shuttered window, my hands moving in a blur over the easel in my lap. I've been waking up for about a month now at the break of dawn to finish this drawing of the city, but I only have a small window of time before the shadows change too much to continue. It's been kind of my fixation for a while, drawing at a specific time of the day. My sis thinks I'm nuts for waking up so early when school doesn't even start till ten, but if I hadn't, then I never would have seen him.

So there's this guy. He's really not all that remarkable at first glance, I suppose. He's about my age–fifteen, I would guess–and probably half a foot shorter. You wouldn't think he was so short by the way he walks, sort of an arrogant long stride, and I wouldn't have even been able to tell if he hadn't passed by another man just because of his attitude, which he seems to wear on his person like a physical trait. But what caught my attention wasn't his size. It wasn't even the strange bright red coat he wears or the way he likes to tie his long blonde hair back just like my father did before he died.

No, what really got my attention was the look on his face. I don't think I've ever seen someone look at anything so intensely, and believe me, I watch a lot of people go by from my little vantage point. Usually you would expect someone who is going to work, or wherever it is he always seems to be going, to have this sort of bored expression as they ignore the repetitive scenery they've seen a million times in favor of their own thoughts.

But not this guy. No, his gaze stares unwaveringly forward with this deep frown on his face, eyes flickering and taking in everything around him, almost as if he expects some monster to pop out at any moment. Or maybe he finds his surroundings so fascinating that he has to absorb them as if every dawn sheds new light on a facet he hasn't seen. Whatever the case, I just thought it…odd.

I didn't really think about it after the first time, but after I noticed him a few more mornings in a row, I began to wonder. Where is he always going in such a hurry? Does he go to some school that starts earlier than mine? Is he already working? Why does he always look so serious?

A few days after that it was: what's with that red coat, anyway? He's got to have a lot of money to be able to afford anything with a red dye. Is he some kind of elite? He does walk towards a ritzier part of the city now that I think about it….

Well anyway, you get my point. My life must be really boring or something to get fixated on some guy who happens to walk across the street from my apartment. But then again, I was up before even the rooster crows just to get the perfect shadows, so I digress. I brush my longish blonde hair out of my face, no doubt leaving another black streak in the pale locks, and set my coal down with a sigh. I examine the work with equally pale blue eyes and grin in satisfaction. Almost done. I yawn widely and stretch my arms. A bit more and I won't have to wake up so dang early anymore….maybe my next one will be at sunset…

A flash of red in the corner of my vision catches my attention and I have to stop my head from whipping around to watch the stranger walk across the street again. I roll my eyes at myself for my newest fixation, but can't help but turn and look anyway. Man, I need a hobby. Oh wait…

And yup, there he is, walking across the street looking like he's sucking on a lemon while glaring at anything and everything. I run the palm of my hand across my forehead and sigh deeply. What the hell's wrong with me. By the time I finish rolling my eyes at myself, he's already almost out of sight. I watch for a few more seconds as he rounds the corner in a dramatic flick of his red coat before standing. I brush my hands on my pants lightly, expelling a small cloud of black dust into the room, when something strange perks my interest once more. Is that…? I squint my eyes and lean against the window till I can see my breath misting the glass.

My breath catches in my chest and I feel a little thrill of fear. There's….now I know I'm crazy, but there's a huge man wearing…is that a suit of armor?! He's huge, probably seven feet tall, and his armor is a menacing combination of spikes and cold metal. It's one of those suits you only see in history books when people used to galavant the countryside challenging knights to duels. He's standing in the alley across the way staring intently with glowing red eyes in the direction that boy walked. If I hadn't seen him from my high vantage point, I wouldn't have even noticed him standing there, despite his elaborate getup.

I'm not sure exactly what it is I think I'm seeing, but there's one thing that's apparent: the boy is being followed. As I watch, the large man retreats back into the alley, his eyes never leaving the kid's retreating figure until he completely disappears.

I pull back from the window and ruffle my hair in distress. Does he know? Is that why he always walks around as if waiting for someone to attack him? By now, the sun has risen fully over the horizon and people are beginning to walk the streets heading to work. There is no more sign of either the boy or the man in the suit, but my heart is still racing a mile a minute.

"Someone's gotta…." I mumble. I turn abruptly and stumble over a charcoal stick with a curse. I scrabble to my dresser and pull out a pair of pants and a button down shirt and pull them on, not even bothering with a jacket and completely disregarding the black chalk staining my clothes. "Someone's gotta warn him!" I jump over my bed, which I haven't put away yet this morning, and practically fly down the old worn rungs of the ladder leading to my crawlway.

A few shuffles and grunts of exertion later and I make it out of the half-sized doorway. Man, I really need to break out my father's carpentry tools and widen this space. I'm almost too broad shouldered to get through it anymore. I push open the door and jump through hastily, nearly bowling over someone in my wake. I pull back with a grunt as my ears ring from the familiar startled screech of my little sister.

"Han! What the heck?" My younger sister, Annaliese, stumbles back into the wall and pulls her waist length blond hair out of her face in agitation. I nearly sent her careening. She is a lot smaller than me, even though she's only a year younger. I seem to have inherited my father's large stature while she inherited ma's daintier one.

"Sorry, Anna," I say as I pull her back upright hastily. She glares up at me with her dark brown eyes and looks me up and down.

"Just where do you think you are going so early in the morning? It's a school day, so you better not be going out to hang out with those friends of yours. You know ma' hates it when you skip–Hey, I'm talking to you! Han!"

"Sorry, Anna, gotta go! Tell ma' I'll be back in a jiffy!"

"Han!"

I spin around my smaller sister and race to the door, throw it open and swiftly make my way to the stairs. Taking them at twos and threes, I make it down to street level in record time. Before I throw open the door and race out onto the street, I pause with my hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, I just stand there. What…what am I doing? I don't even know this guy, and yet once I see that he might be in danger, I race off to warn him? But that large man in the armor…he looked like bad news. Real bad news. If I don't warn him, who will? I mean, it's not like the military police will do anything about it, I think distastefully. Decision made, I push the door open and stride out onto the sidewalk. I look left and right carefully in the early morning. There are a few people out, but I pay them no attention, trying to spy the large man I saw earlier. Seeing him nowhere, I swiftly begin striding in the direction I always see that boy walking. My palms are sweating slightly, so I put them in my pockets and try to keep my eyes peeled for anything suspicious.

Now, this is the tricky part. I don't even know where the kid is heading, so I'm really just going to have to take a wild guess. I pull out my old copper pocket watch, a rather elaborate piece inherited from my father, and check the time. It has only been a few minutes since I saw him disappear, so I should be able to catch up pretty easily if I manage to choose the right direction. On a hunch, I take the common pedestrian route towards the market district, following the general flow of foot traffic. Feeling slightly anxious, I pick up my pace, lengthening my already naturally long stride. Within a few minutes, I'm rewarded by a glimpse of a bright red coat. The boy is stopped at a street corner, waiting for the automobile traffic to lighten so he could cross the road. Glancing around furtively, I slow my pace slightly now that I have him in sight. It wouldn't do to tip off the person following him that he's going to be warned. He might become more aggressive and try something… Quite suddenly, I feel like one of the heroes in my sister's adventure novels, chasing after the villain who's trying to capture the princess. My brow furrows. Am I overreacting? My footsteps slow even more as I begin to tail the boy. Now that I'm out in broad daylight, I feel a bit silly about the whole thing. Maybe I just imagined the man. I mean, I'm pretty tired, and I do tend to let my imagination get the better of me sometimes.

By now, we are getting closer to the center of the city, and more and more military personnel are starting to filter onto the street on their way to the compound. I begin to feel a bit edgy, and my hands clench in my pockets. See, in my family and in the area I live in, we have sort of a…distrust of the military. As a lower-class civilian, I, or rather, my mother who actually pays attention to the happenings of the government, am constantly living in fear of a military raid. Despite propaganda, there are many who see through the corruption of Central's powers that be. You…hear things in the poorer areas of the city. Dark things. Things about what happens when the city's strict taxes aren't paid on time, or when a business does or says something the government doesn't agree with. There are even rumors of the military kidnapping the poorer people off the street to do…unnatural experiments on them. It also doesn't help that the military police are a bunch of bullies, at least in my area.

But it isn't just that. My father…he was killed by an officer in the military when I was just a kid. Got caught in the crossfire between some military police and a street gang. And just like that he was gone, leaving my ma' and sister and I on our own. There was no repercussions for the officer who shot him, nor did we even get an apology from her. No, just a stupid letter barely acknowledging our loss and deeply sowing distrust and disdain for the military in me forever.

Now, call me paranoid but…no it isn't just me. That kid is being watched by some bluecoats. My eyes widen slightly in alarm as I begin to notice a few gazes on him that really don't have any business being there. They are trying to be discreet–a glance over a coffee cup or a passing sweep behind a paper–but I could see their eyes on him a mile away. I gulp harshly and put my head down, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. That's getting a little harder to do as we wander into the nicer parts of town. My disheveled and worn clothes are beginning to stand out a little too much. If this kid is being watched by the military, he must be in big trouble. Could it be that they're going to arrest him? Is he going to be experimented on?

The sun is getting higher in the sky, the clouds turing from orange to a light yellow, and I finally see my chance to talk to him. The blonde turns abruptly and leans against a wall at a small cafe. He pulls out a shiny pocket watch impatiently and glares at it, then lets out a wide yawn, scratching his head. He glances left and right before leaning back and pulling out a small journal, a little leather book that looks an awful lot like the sketchbook I like to carry, and begins to scribble in it. Resisting the urge to give a wide area sweep to see if he is being watched again, I glance glance casually left and right before crossing the street.

Hm, how to do this without seeming completely nuts? As I approach I see a good excuse to stop near him. The cafe that he's standing beside has a menu posted to the wall right by where he's standing. Leisurely I approach and examine the menu. Out of the corner of my eye I give him a once-over then glance away swiftly. He hasn't noticed me at all, his pale golden eyes, almost as pale as my blue ones, still glaring at the journal in his hands which I could now see is filled to the brim with scrawled notes. I'm shocked to realize that he's even shorter than I thought at first, standing solidly at my chin. But actually, his face seemed to indicate that he might be a bit older than me. He has one of those looks of someone who's been through a lot, kind of like the bitter veteran that lives two doors down from me. I shake my head slightly at myself. Now is not the time to be feeding one of my weird observation fixations. I need to warn him. Casually, I lean back against the wall a few feet away from him and pull out my own journal and a pencil I stole from the school. I begin absently sketching my surroundings as I struggle to think of a way to talk to him. My heart races a little. I hate talking to new people, but now is not the time for my awkwardness. He really needs to be warned. As I try to come up with something to say that doesn't sound completely insane, I glance over at him again and jump with a start. His pale golden eyes–no, not pale, but absolutely fiery–are fixed on me with that absolute concentration I had admired before.

His eyes narrow and I have this insane urge to step away. I resist, and he just seems to stare more intensely. "Um…" I mutter, not sure why he's glaring at me. Did he catch me? That would be mortifying.

"What are you doing," he finally says, looking down at my journal sharply. I realize suddenly, when I hear his husky voice, that he's not as irritated as he appears and relax slightly. Maybe that intensity is just the way he looks all the time.

"I'm drawing," I say, my own voice only a shade slighter than his. I feel somewhat of a thrill of unreality as I finally speak to the guy I've been noticing for over a month. I look down and start in surprise to see that I had been sketching a nearby woman without realizing it. I do that sometimes. It's just so second nature to sketch what I see that I didn't notice. I tipped my journal toward his suddenly curious eyes and his intense gaze turned to my work. I had to hold back a blush. I'm not overly fond of when people see my drawings. I've often been told by my friends that I'm wasting my time with a useless talent, so I get a bit self conscious. I blink, and suddenly the journal in my hands is gone and the boy has pulled it close to his face to examine it.

Suddenly I can't help the intense heat that floods my cheeks. It was just a sketch! He doesn't need to see that so close! "Hey! Come on, that one's not finished yet!" I try to snatch it back, but he simply sidesteps me effortlessly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. I fume.

He begins to flip through my journal, much to my mortification. I cross my arms resignedly with a groan, trying my best to dispel the heat from my face as he peruses my drawings. That particular book holds only sketches of people, so I'm actually pretty glad he's not seeing the sketches of the city. I'm not that good at architecture yet…

As he flips through, his expression goes from slightly teasing to blank, slipping back into that focussed expression from before. Before I can decide whether that is a good thing or not, he whistles low and mutters, "These are actually not bad."

"Gee, thanks," I say sarcastically, making another futile swipe for my journal. He bats my hand away, another teasing grin appearing on his thin lips, and I wince slightly in pain. Damn, is he wearing gloves made out of steel? I shake my now bruised hand out with a grimace. What is up with this guy, just randomly taking people's journals like that? I have half a mind to snatch his away, which he holds limply under his arm, in revenge. I grin deviously and make another grab for my journal, thoroughly distracting him, and pull his journal out from under his arm. The kid doesn't even notice, still checking out my drawings.

Curiously, I look down at the leather-bound book in my hands. It's worn, and its old hide is covered in ink flecks, as if he doesn't care a lick for aesthetics. Well, I'm not judging. Mine's covered in charcoal. I flip it open, and instantly become intrigued by his tiny scrawled script. I can barely make it out, but as I flip through a few more pages, I notice that it contains a series of circles that look awfully familiar. I bite my lip in concentration, trying to think of where I've seen these before, and then it comes to me. These are transmutation circles. This kid must be studying alchemy! My curiosity spikes through the roof. He has to be rich then. Only people with money, and a lot of it, get to study alchemy. My school barely brushes the surface of the science, just glazing over the history and giving the basic mechanics. Not that I pay much attention in school. I'm always too busy drawing to pay attention to a field I would never be allowed to truly study. The military keeps tight control of the circulation of knowledge in this city, and a nobody like me wouldn't get within a mile of the stuff.

"Hey," the boy exclaims loudly, and snatches the journal from right under my nose. I laugh at his disgruntled expression.

"My name is Han," I say, smiling widely. I never expected to actually meet this guy, but now that I have, I'm kind of having fun. His frown lessens a bit at my open expression.

"Edward," he mutters, holding out my journal for me to take back, looking a bit contrite. My grin widens and I reach out to take it back, but I freeze. My expression drops, much to the bewilderment of my new acquaintance, as I suddenly remember why I am here in the first place. I pull my hand back and facepalm before dropping it and looking around the street wildly.

Edward chuckles and points at me. "You know, you just made a black handprint on your face."

Completely ignoring his comment, I look around, realizing there are a lot more people milling about now that the sun has risen. I immediately spot the two bluecoats that were watching him earlier, and older man with blonde hair and a younger one with thick rimmed glasses, and I begin to panic slightly. They're still there, probably waiting for this kid–Edward–to be alone.

I turn back to Edward sharply, barely registering his lifted brow, and grasp his shoulder. I startle in surprise to find how hard it was. It felt like metal plating…Oh! He must have automail. It's not too unusual. The veteran down the hall has a metal leg, though it probably needs replacing several years over. Shaking my head of my errant thoughts–focus, dammit!–I whisper to him tensely.

"Look, I know this might sound completely crazy, but I actually followed you–"

He jerks back in surprise, his eyes widening. "You what! What the hell for!?"

I shake my head and lift my hands rapidly in surrender. "No, I–I swear I'm not stalking you or anything, I just–just saw you a couple of times when you cross the road back on Seventh!" He lifts his brow in disbelief, his expression becoming guarded. I blush hotly. That sounded way less creepy in my head. I start to ramble, an unfortunate habit I have when I'm nervous. "I mean, I barely noticed–I mean, it's just because of the red coat, and then I wondered–but then I saw–" His eyebrow just keeps going higher and higher on his forehead and it looks like he's going to punch me in the face and make a run for it. I take a halted breath before he can get that far and then blurt, "You're being followed!"

Suddenly, his expression closes with a sharp snap and he stands straighter. His golden eyes narrow and he becomes all business, much to my surprise. He pushes me back against the wall and thrusts my journal back in my hands. "Relax and act casual," he snaps, opening his own journal and glaring down at it. I open it, feeling a bit like I have whiplash from his sudden change in demeanor, but I obediently do what he says. I blink in surprise. He handed me the wrong journal. He is looking down at mine, but doesn't seem to notice as he is staring at a blank page towards the back. I was about to mention something when his tense voice began asking rapid-fire questions.

"Who? When? Where," he says tersely, using my sketchbook as a shield to glance around the street discreetly.

"In the alley back on Seventh," I begin in a tense whisper looking down at the journal in my hands, suddenly feeling like one of those information brokers I see around sometimes, "there was a very large man wearing some strange clothes watching you walk by. Never took his eyes off you."

The boy seems to tense even further, if that's possible, and suddenly I got the feeling that he knew someone was following him and was waiting for…something…to happen.

"What precisely did he look like," he growls, giving me a guarded look through his blonde lashes.

"I dunno…" I say thoughtfully, trying to make out some of the complex drawings in his journal. "His face was covered by a…helmet I guess. It was really strange, but he was wearing….you're not going to believe this, but he was wearing a suit of armor!"

Edward's eyes widen, and then he stands straight abruptly, snapping the book closed and letting out a gusty sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if I had just said the most ludicrous thing in the world. "Of all the–that's what you saw," he mutters, his voice suddenly full of irritation.

I huffed, affronted. The kid doesn't believe me! Does he think I'm lying or something? I came all this way and he doesn't even listen?! "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling the truth! You gotta believe me!"

He's ignoring me at this point, glancing at his fancy watch, and my face heats in anger. "And he's not the only one! You've got bluecoats on your tail as well," I insist.

He looks up at this, but now I see that I've truly lost him. He's got this expression on his face like he's already dismissed me, like I'm nuts or something. "Look kid–" he says. Kid? Kid? This pipsqueak did not just call me kid! I see red. "I get what you are trying to do but–" He's talking in this condescending voice that adults always like to pull on me when they think they're smarter than me. I cross my arms in agitation.

"NO!" I say loudly. "You're being followed and I'm going to prove it!" I grab his hand so he doesn't try to escape, ignoring his protest, and glare out around the street, trying to spot the bluecoats I saw earlier. They're gone. I frown deeply in annoyance. Of course they're gone the second I need them! I turn towards Edward again to insist further, when I freeze in alarm. There, walking towards us, was the man in the suit of armor. He was walking openly on the street! What the heck? I grip Edward's prosthetic arm tightly as my heart begins racing. Catching the scared look on my face, Edward follows my gaze and spots the man coming towards us as well.

He rolls his eyes. "Look–Han, was it?—that's not–"

But I'm no longer listening. My heart is pounding in my chest as the menacing man gets closer and closer. How is no one panicking about this monster casually walking down the street? He turns his glowing red eyes in our direction and my adrenaline spikes horrifically. He's spotted us!

I turn around and run into the alley beside us, pulling a protesting and surprisingly heavy Edward along behind me. But I still outweigh him quite a bit and he has little choice but to follow or fall flat on his face.

"Han! What the hell, let go of me," He shouts, but I ignore him.

"You've got to be kidding me! Did you see that guy?" I panic, dragging him along forcefully. Man, this was not how I thought I would be spending my morning! "He was stalking you!"

Suddenly, Edward yanks his hand from my grip and spins me around. I'm vibrating on my feet at this point, breaths coming in short gasps, and I alternately glare at the stubborn blonde while furtively glancing towards the street. I had drug us quite far into the alleyway, still somewhat dark in the early morning. I glance left and right in the cross alley we are standing in the middle of behind buildings, and spy a couple of dumpsters that might be good to hide in.

"Han!" Ed shouts in my face, gripping my shoulders tightly. "I'm not being stalked! That's–"

"Ouch," I exclaim, jerking away from his grip. I snap my hand to my neck as I feel a sharp sting of pain. There's something stuck….I pull it out and look down at it in confusion. I've never seen anything like it. It looked like some kind of dart…? Ed snatches the object from my hand, and his eyes go comically wide.

"What the–" Before he can utter anything more, a wave of dizziness hits me like a battering ram and I lurch backwards, barely catching myself from falling. I feel suddenly feverish, and I bring my hand to cover my drunkenly spinning vision.

"Um, Edward, I think I–"

"Han, look out!" I blearily open my eyes to regard my companion, and he thrusts his hand out as if to catch me, a look of abject horror on his face. I don't even have a moment to try to puzzle out why he looks so afraid before I find myself tight against something curiously hard and warm. There's shouting now, and I belatedly realize that I'm finding it a bit hard to breathe. I force my eyes open again–when exactly did I close them?–and grip at the thing cruelly cutting off my air supply. Is that an..arm?

A deep voice rumbles in my ear, vibrating what I now know is a rather large man's chest behind me. "Don't you dare move, kid, or I break his neck!"

"DON'T call me kid, bastard," Edward growls from somewhere in front of me.

"Tie 'im up," another voice shouts from further away.

"Which one's the target," the man behind me exclaims, "they both look the same!"

"Doesn't matter…don't have time…!"

By now I'm fading fast, and vaguely I feel like I'm being dragged, my heels scraping the ground. The light is fading, but I'm not sure if it's my failing vision or that I'm being dragged somewhere dark. Probably both…

I can hear loud muffled cursing somewhere behind me, and I recognize it as Edward's voice. I feel a pang of regret. I had tried to warn him that someone was after him, but just ended up making it easier for them. Damn, I should have tried harder to make him believe me…

Before everything goes black, I have one final thought. I should have stayed in bed….Why couldn't I ignore it? Why can I never ignore it? Everything goes dark.

o-0-o

Yeah...I have no idea. I've finally graduated and have some free time, so I figured I would finally start on the next book of Subsoul. I bought this cute little leather journal and was about to start an outline when, bam, this happened. I'm insane, I know...but don't worry, I've already got the first chapter of subsoul outlined, so it shouldn't be too terribly long, despite my current distraction.

So yeah, this story. I dunno, I just thought it might be fun to get some random kid involved in one of Edward's missions. Heh. This probably won't be longer than a few chapters, just a warmup for my bigger projects. That is, unless this becomes a huge favorite or something. But whatever, that's the future. Be sure to let me know whether this is worth continuing or not. Also, this is my first time attempting present tense, so let me know if I make any glaring mistakes.

Thanks, bye!