A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! Well, it took five weeks, but I finally managed to update. For those of you who didn't get to see my reasons in the explanation post I made, it's been kind of a rough month. First, I lost my beloved pet cat, so didn't much feel like writing. Then I came down with a stomach bug, and just as I was starting to shake that, a cold. I was finally on the mend this week, so it was back to writing! I'm so very sorry this has taken so long, but I appreciate everyone's patience, and the kind words of encouragement. You're all incredibly sweet, and I feel so very loved. On we go!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Thirty-three - Queen, Subdued

ABANDONED BATHHOUSE, JADAD, ISHVAL
0543 HOURS, APRIL 30

Rebecca knew she wasn't going to make it out of this place without a cold, much less her life. For three hours now, she and the others had been forced to remain in this damp, chilly corner of the former bathhouse, crouched on the still-damp tiles and imprisoned by the bars Armstrong had been made to alchemise from the floor.

She shivered, snugging her arms tighter around her chest and glaring at the three vampires in the centre of the room. "There's got to be some way out of this," she grumbled, gritting her teeth so that they wouldn't chatter. "Some way to break out, to change them back, to take them down…. Just… something."

"We're open to suggestions," Fuery muttered back. His gaze travelled upward, to where the skylight stood, covered now on the outside in a solid layer of sandy muck. "The sunlight option is out, since they made us cover the biggest window in the place. What else are they susceptible to?"

"Not much," Miles said, his face grim. "We could try burning them out into daylight, if we could get a fire going. Or if we could get our protection charms back —" He pointed to the forlorn looking little pile of pouches discarded against another wall that the vampires have confiscated. "— we could try and loop them around their necks."

"It would be more effective to make them swallow them," Scar said darkly. His red eyes never left the trio of villains, narrowed into dangerous slits.

"Or, hear me out, we could try and play them at their own game," Breda said, so quietly, they almost didn't hear him. Sitting farthest back, right in the corner, he made sure to keep his voice down so that he wouldn't be overheard. As the others turned to look his way, he leaned forward. "Listen carefully…."

As Scar listened, he glanced back over her shoulder to where the vampires were talking quietly amongst themselves… and wondered how it had ever come to this.

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

Breda was the last to kneel. He stood tall, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "You're forgetting something," he said boldly, his voice clear in the echoing space. "You're still trapped in that circle. You talk about going to the Ishvalan leadership, of declaring yourselves rulers — what makes you think you're going anywhere?"

He had a good vantage point from where he stood, able to see at least a third of the circle. From as far as he could tell, all the runes were intact; the circle should be unbreakable. In fact, he was sure it was; they hadn't made a move to leave it before now, even requesting to be sealed in… but perhaps only to put the humans at ease, to make them believe they were safe.

That thought caused a sinking feeling in his chest, one that only worsened as Hawkeye smiled slyly, beginning to move around the edge of the circle, toward the left wall of the atrium. "We had to leave ourselves a back door, so to speak. What if there was a fire, or we needed to use the bathroom? We'd have to get out somehow."

She slid effortlessly down the sloped side of the empty bathing pool, going to the middle and stopping before it began sloping upward again. Bending, she worked her fingernails under the edge of a tile marked with the rune for 'mercy' and flipped it out of its place in the grouting. Getting gracefully to her feet, she took a lithe step forward… out of the inscribed circle. She paused only for the briefest of dazzling smiles… and then lunged forward, her white streak of a form curling snakelike around young Fuery's body. She rematerialized, whipping the man's charm from around his neck, throwing it aside, and wrapping an arm across his throat before the rest of them could so much as gasp.

"Now, then," she purred, her lips — and fangs — mere inches from his neck. "If we're to move forward and get things ready for our coup and coronation, we're going to have to have a little cooperation here." The fingers of her free hand fisted in the back of Fuery's shirt as he tried to wrench away. "Ah ah, don't fight it, sweetheart, you'll just hurt yourself. As for the rest of you…." Her purple eyes gleamed menacingly. "Take care of the chores I have for you, and dear Fuery here will live to see his beloved superiors crowned. Fair?

Her eyes went to Breda, still on his feet, the others crouched low and in shock around him. "Well? What's it going to be, big man?" She grinned. "Fight, and I bite. Or, yield and kneel?"

For a long moment, he stood straight and stiff, hating the powerless position he found himself in. To take one of her own subordinates hostage, to use him as a bargaining chip to get her way…. He had to remind himself that this was not Riza Hawkeye that he faced; this was something far more ruthless and unforgiving than he had ever faced… including himself.

Slowly, reluctantly, he knelt.

CURRENT TIME

"If I remember Miles' description of this building correctly," Breda murmured, "the other side of this wall should be changing rooms. If one of us can slip through a hole into there, they can sneak out and around to the broken part of the circle and re-seal them inside it."

"It's true," Falman said, looking back over his shoulder. "They're both speaking with Kimblee at the moment, inside the circle's bounds. If we could trap even one of them inside, it'd even the odds a bit more."

"How do we break through?" Rebecca asked, eyeing the stone blocks of the wall. "These look pretty solid, and doesn't alchemy make a sound when you use it? Not to mention the light given off by a transmutation."

"Alchemy does," Scar said, catching on to Breda's plan. "But my arm of destruction makes no light and very little sound. Even less, if I were to be careful. I could slowly and completely destroy the block before they noticed, and allow someone to slip through… though it would be a tight fit."

"Me," Fuery said, sounding surprised, but game. "I'm the smallest person here; it has to be me."

Breda nodded, watching his comrade with grim determination. "You've already been through some pretty stressful stuff tonight, being held hostage while we covered up the skylight and confiscated the charms," he said. "No one here will blame you if you don't want to put yourself at risk like this."

"I'd blame myself," the young man said firmly. "That's our superiors over there, taken over by things we barely understand. If I don't try to help them, regardless of the danger, just what has the Colonel spent the last several years working with us for?" He smiled. "He would be disappointed in me, if he were himself."

"Okay." Putting a hand on the young man's shoulder, he gave it a friendly, reassuring shake. "Try to find a way out and smash the skylight; when you do, we'll bust out as a group and help trap them in the circle again."

Trying to move as quietly as possible, the group rearranged themselves, Scar sitting to one side of the block chosen for destruction, with Armstrong's bulk between it and their captors. Breda waited until he was sure their shuffling hadn't been noticed, before giving the Ishvalan warrior a small nod.

Reaching down, Scar pressed the fingers of his right hand to the damp stone, feeling the energy in the tattoos of his arm building up, ready to seep into the porous rock. He had to be careful here; too much energy at once would certainly do the job, but the sound of the crumbling block would almost certainly alert the vampires to their improvised plan. This wasn't the brute force of attacking human enemies; this required finesse.

He released the energy, just a trickle, and felt the first chunk of stone crack and separate from the main block. He moved his hand just in time to catch the piece before it could audibly hit the floor. An adjustment would have to be made. Shifting, he positioned the edge of his robe under the new gap in the stone, and settled back to work.

"Look, we realize that if you're going to have to be imprisoned for the next however many years — decades, probably — that you should have a say in your stay," Riza said, her arms folded as she tried to reason with the annoyed sire inside the circle. "We're inhuman, not inhumane. You should be comfortable."

"Think of it as putting an aging relative in a nursing home," Roy muttered beside her, unable to fully smother the satisfied grin the thought elicited in him. "You'll be well taken care of, we assure you."

"You can take your assurances and shove them down your throat," Kimblee shot back irritably. "I hope you choke on them."

Riza reached out, touching the back of her hand to Roy's chest to stave off his inevitable snapped remark, then spoke herself. "You'll come around in time." She turned to her partner. "Now, the sun will be up in less than an hour; I'm going to work on security arrangements for our announcement to the Ishvalan leaders. It'll be no fun if we get there and then lose half the night fighting. After that, I'm going to get some rest. I suggest you do the same."

Roy grinned. "Are you asking me to sleep with you?"

"I could be," she teased, returning the smile.

"I'd rather you kill me outright than have to listen to this drivel," Kimblee muttered, not bothering to try and speak sotto voce.

Still smiling, Riza turned away from the circle to head back into the little lair she and Roy had fashioned from one of the changing rooms… and stopped as movement caught her eye. In the far corner, the little knot of their prisoners were sitting together, some talking quietly, others simply watching. And in the open archway of the change room nearest them, a shadowed shape moved.

Her eyes, adjusted to the darkness and meant to see in dim conditions, instantly picked out Fuery's pale, wide-eyed face as he froze, clearly caught trying to sneak across the changing room interior.

"Seems like one of our little pets has gotten out of his cage," she said softly, taking a gliding step toward him. Behind her, she caught the sound of movement as Roy's head turned to look. Her eyes darted from Fuery to the stone bars alchemised from the floor and back again; the gaps were too narrow for him to have squeezed out, so how…? "I don't know how he managed it… but I suppose we'll have to escort him back to his friends."

The young man stepped forward, standing straight in what, admittedly, was a brave posture. "You were my friend once, too, you know. Friends don't trap friends in abandoned buildings and try to take over other friends' —" He nodded toward Scar and Miles. "— civilizations."

Riza sighed. "Listen, kid, my host might have been your friend, but I'm not. When are you going to get that through your head? The saying is cliché, but… I didn't come here to make friends." She took another step toward him. "I came here to rule, not —"

Fuery glanced once at the others behind the bars, then rushed headlong at his former Lieutenant. Before she could finish her sentence, he lowered one shoulder and rammed full force into her torso, driving her back. The pair of them cannoned into the invisible wall of the inner circle, falling to the floor together.

With an animalistic snarl, Roy lunged forward, knocking Fuery away from Riza and onto his back on the floor. Pinning the Master Sergeant by way of a forearm across his clavicle, he bared his teeth, ready to sink them into the vulnerable neck.

From across the room came several loud cracks, and the sound of stone falling on stone as Scar swiped at the bars with his right arm, shattering the makeshift prison. Together, he and Armstrong stepped forward into the room.

"Release the Master Sergeant," Armstrong rumbled, his blue eyes hard and hands curled into fists.

Roy grinned. "Make me."

The smile dropped away from his face as the others stepped up behind the two men, all looking grim, determined, or both. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed to his feet, leaving Fuery on the ground. "Guys, you've got to ask yourselves: is a bum rush on a vampire really a good idea?" His teeth gleamed as he spoke, the points of his fangs visible. "In all the confusion… somebody could get bitten."

"Shouldn't matter," Miles returned coolly. "Since neither of you is leaving this place with that curse intact." His eyes went past Roy to where Kimblee stood watching from inside the inner circle. "We'll make sure of that."

Climbing to her feet, Riza shot him a withering look. "And how are you planning to do that? You're more likely to get torn to shreds than bring him down; his murder victims prove that."

"They were unsuspecting, or incapacitated," Breda pointed out, his voice cold. "We're not."

Four of them started forward, Falman, Armstrong, Rebecca, and Breda advancing with deliberate steps. Fuery climbed to his feet, taking a step back to re-gather his courage as the others took over. Riza braced both hands on the invisible wall of the inner circle, taking several deep breaths to prepare herself for the fight to come….

"Let me out," a voice hissed behind her. Kimblee, standing close by the wall, tense as a coiled spring, waiting for release. "Let me out, and I'll deal with them. They don't stand a chance against me."

"Shut up," she snapped. "You're staying put; if I let you out, how am I supposed to get you back in there?"

His return comment of "That's the idea" was drowned out as she dodged the first punch from her former best friend. It was evident in Rebecca's expression that she regretted having to fight this thing with Riza's face, but she swung gamely, trying to connect. Military training kept her in the fight; reflexes kept Riza from taking a fist to the nose as she either dodged or blocked. She was vaguely aware of the sound of more cracking and falling stone, but ignored it, focussed instead on the fight as Falman joined in the fray.

With two on one, to go on the offensive, she would have to quit playing by the rules. Blocking a hit from Falman aimed at her ribs, she took a step forward past the blow Rebecca had aimed at her cheek, and stomped her foot down on the other woman's. Rebecca gasped, her guard dropping for an instant… but it was long enough. Riza's hand snaked out, wrapping around her throat and turning on the spot, she dragged Rebecca to stand as a human shield between her and Falman.

Beside her, Roy was hard pressed by both Armstrong and Breda. The latter wasn't much of a fighter, but knew how to throw a punch, just not as well as his counterpart. Roy was ignoring Breda entirely, focussing his attention on blocking Armstrong's strikes and trying to find a way past his defense.

Riza grinned, putting her face close to Rebecca's as the other woman tugged ineffectually at her hand, trying to dislodge its grip on her windpipe. "You would have been fine, you know," she said quietly. "We would have let you live. But you couldn't just sit quietly and wait for us to finish our business." As Falman came around the side, intent on getting to her, Riza planted her free hand on his chest and shoved him away; he stumbled backward, and fell to the floor. "So now, instead of remaining as a subject… you are the first instance of resistance we'll have to remove."

A new sound came over the noise of fighting; the muffled shatter of glass. A lot of glass.

She looked up, the air filling with swirling, glittering motes of sand and vaporized glass, to where Scar stood silhouetted against the lightening sky of dawn, the fingers of his right hand still splayed in the air where the skylight had been. Red eyes glared down at her, the lack of emotion turning the expression dangerous.

Dropping her hold on Rebecca's throat, she turned, intent on sprinting for the shadow of the changing rooms… and stopped as she almost collided with a kneeling Miles. He looked up, the stubby ceremonial knife in his hand… and a rune etched into the grouting where she had removed the tile earlier.

"Everyone back!" he shouted, not moving from his position.

Falman grabbed Rebecca by the arm, towing her outside the circle as she coughed, her breath returning. Armstrong leapt back several feet, Breda close behind him. Teeth bared, Roy tried to follow, ramming shoulder first into a new invisible wall.

Her hands in fists at her sides, Riza gave the Ishvalan soldier an acidic look. "This is a temporary measure," she spat. "You think we can't find another loose tile you've written on? As soon as we break a single rune, the circle will be nulled again, and then…. Then, we'll finish it."

Climbing to his feet, Miles stared her down across the barrier. "Try," he invited darkly. "See how far you get. But can you make it before there's too much light?" He pointed upward. "The sun is rising, vampire. Your time is short."

Gritting her teeth, Riza glanced over her shoulder. Roy was already prowling the perimeter, his eyes on the ground as he searched for loose tiles. Granted, they could always loosen one themselves, but that would take time. Time they didn't have, and time that would almost certainly be interrupted by the humans. One would have to work at loosening it while the other ran interference. And she was already beginning to feel the depletion of energy after the fight —

No… not from the fight.

She looked up again, Scar still visible on the rim of the shattered skylight, standing tall and staring off to the east. Already, she could see the pink glow beginning to play over his white hair, could see the slowly growing brightness spreading across the sky. She stood there, simply staring, knowing that there was no way out of the circle, no way that she could avoid the hated sunlight, no way she could get at the humans and vent her rage unless they stepped inside the circle….

What happened next, Miles could only describe later as 'she went crazy.'

One moment, the vampire was standing perfectly still, her head tilted back as she gazed up through the void in the ceiling to the sky, her hands at her sides, and her expression composed.

And in the next instant, her face contorted with the most primal rage he had ever witnessed… and she screamed. On some levels, it was a frustrated child, unable to express their feelings through the words of a limited vocabulary. On so many others, however, it was a trapped and furious animal, railing against the bars and the injustices heaped upon it.

It wasn't a short scream, either. She had taken a deep breath prior to the outburst, and used that to make it last for nearly a full minute. The sound echoed off the tiled walls, ricocheting around the space over and over again. Everyone covered their ears, some squeezing their eyes shut as if to escape that way.

Still screaming, she launched herself into a pale streak of motion, her elongated rapid-travel form bouncing from wall to wall of her prison. The scream died out, but the blur remained, spinning ever faster around the circle. Mustang stood with his back pressed against the inner wall, his eyes the only part of him that moved as he tried to watch what was happening. He recognized the desperation of their situation, certainly, but he reacted with far less fury than Hawkeye.

Kimblee, for his part, looked on almost boredly as the vampiress vented her spleen. Scar watched from the lip of the broken skylight, blank-faced but alert to any danger. When Miles glanced back over his shoulder to check on the others, he found them staring dumbfounded at the spectacle.

Finally, after nearly three minutes of continuous tearing around the outer circle, Hawkeye came to a sudden stop. She stood with her head bowed, her chest heaving with lost breath, her long hair falling around her face like a curtain. She trembled visibly all over, her hands fixed in tight, white-knuckled fists.

Coming up beside him, Armstrong placed three retrieved protection charms into his hand. "Best do it now," he murmured, his eyes steady on the vampires. "One for you, one for each of them. Hawkeye first; the Colonel is more likely to come quietly if she's already taken care of."

Nodding acknowledgement, Miles slipped the first charm over his head and stepped forward. Mustang's eyes instantly shot in his direction, his body tensing… but he stayed put. Miles gave him a warning look anyway, just as he stepped cautiously across the barrier, stopping in front of Hawkeye's unnaturally still form.

He held the cord of the second charm ready, closing the few feet between them. She lifted her head at his approach, her eyes still angry… but with the majority of the fight gone out of her. Miles stopped, watching her closely for a reaction.

Her smile didn't have as much strength. "If I weren't so tired," she said slowly, "I'd rip that ridiculous thing off your neck and treat myself to breakfast." She looked up. "I'd be having it al fresco, apparently. How luxurious."

Without answering, he reached forward, slipping the cord over her head. Just before he pulled his hands back, she made a nipping motion at the inside of his wrist, causing him to jerk back in alarm. The pouch thudded against her chest, and she grimaced, one hand reaching up to plug her nose.

"Take it easy," she scolded, sounded more exhausted by the second. "Can't a girl have a little fun?"

Mustang was approaching slowly from behind her, and as she swayed drunkenly from the charm beginning to take effect, he caught her around the shoulders, easing down to sit with her head pillowed in his lap. He tensed visibly, jaws clenching as his nose detected the vile smell no one else could sense.

Miles, feeling uneasy with the anticlimactic delivery of the first charm, stepped back outside the circle to wait.

Silence fell over the damp room. Hawkeye lay quietly with her eyes closed, twitching every so often as she forced back the urge to gag in reaction to the charm around her neck. Mustang seemed to be going through the same reaction, his already pale face taking on a greenish tinge.

Miles edged up to the barrier, watching closely. When the change came, it was far less violent than last time, perhaps because this time, she expected it. She took a careful deep breath, her hands pressing flat to the floor in evident dizziness. Mustang was murmuring quietly, soothingly, his fingers trailing slow, gentle over her hair.

Her body relaxed, sinking farther back against the stone and Mustang's lap. Her chin lifted, and she took a deep breath… and her eyes, when they opened, were her normal clear, whisky-brown. Her lips parted, taking in a second deep breath, her colour showing the first signs of returning to mingle with the faint hint of green around her mouth.

"Ohhhhh…" she groaned, one hand lifting to her forehead. "That… does not get any more pleasant…."

She sat up slowly, then froze, her shoulders hitching in one last gag before she swallowed hard and huffed out a breath. "Sorry," she murmured. "I just need a moment; it'll fade."

Miles stepped forward, holding up the third and final charm. "Colonel? Your turn, sir. This isn't you, and you know it."

For a moment, Mustang backed away along the floor, his lip curling to show his pointed teeth. His shoulders lifted, hands at the ready to fend off whoever came at him with the hated object. His gaze went from Miles to Riza… and he hesitated. She was looking back over her shoulder, brown eyes glaring. Threatening.

"Take it," she warned, her voice low. "Take it, or so help me, I'll put it around your neck myself."

Mustang swallowed hard, visibly intimidated — she was the one who had turned him, it was only natural he should follow her orders — and then, reluctantly, slowly abandoned his tense posture, allowing Miles to approach slowly, carefully. Though to say he did so without glowering venomously the entire time would be a lie.

She watched his humanity return without the dramatic side effects she had experienced the first time, though not without the nausea and dizziness. Roy dropped to his knees, hands braced on the floor as he retched, and Riza had to look away so that the sight wouldn't trigger her own vomiting. The process of returning humanity became a little easier the second time around, but not by much.

Finally, she heard him take a shaky break and then spit, followed by a muffled curseword as he wiped a sleeve across his mouth, and knew the worst was over.

Getting to her feet, she turned to where Rebecca stood a few metres away, watching with one hand to the reddened flesh of her throat. Guilt slammed into her chest, restricting her breathing for a moment. Those large, dark eyes watched her with a mixture of worry and suspicion. "Becca… I'm so sorry. I wasn't —" She stopped, frowning. "It's a terrible excuse, but I wasn't myself. Are you all right?"

With a roll of her eyes, the other woman stepped forward, crossing the barrier to enfold her friend in a hug. "You're crazy," she said, quietly. "But you're my crazy. I'm okay; it didn't go on for long enough to do any real damage." She leaned back, levelling a finger at Riza's nose. "But do that again, and I'm going to shoot you in the foot. Got it?"

Riza broke into a smile. "Loud and clear." Disengaging herself, she turned to where Breda was helping a still-shaky Roy to his feet. "Sir?"

Roy's shoulders hitched as he swallowed one last gag, one hand on Breda's shoulder for balance, though the red-headed man looked ready to bolt if anything aside from words or breath came out of his commander's mouth. "Yeah," he said at last, voice rough. "I'm okay. I'm good." He looked around the room at the solemn faces, the destroyed stone bars of the former 'cell,' and the hole Scar had created in the wall. "I think we can safely say this is one of the more eventful mornings we've had in a while."

"Certainly one of the more dramatic ones."

Both restored officers turned to see Kimblee, sitting in the centre of the shaft of slowly strengthening light, looking wan and tired… but his purple eyes were alight with annoyance and hatred. "I've been told I'm overdramatic when it comes to explosions and the beauty they create… but it's nothing compared to the two of you and your emotional melodrama." He waved a dismissive hand. "Just profess your undying devotion or what have you, and then get out of here and leave me in peace."

"More like 'in pieces,' with the sun coming up," Fuery ventured. "Within the next hour, you'll hardly be able to move. By noon, you'll be drained completely."

"Not to mention that you're imprisoned there for the foreseeable future," Falman added. "You'll experience the same, day after day, and not be able to escape and feed at night." He looked to Roy and Riza. "How long does a vampire survive without blood?"

The two of them exchanged a look, before Roy spoke. "Well, we never really put it to the test. It would be my guess, however, that if a vampire were to go without blood, it would eventually slip into the trance state that passes for sleep and just… stay that way. At least until some source of blood was given to it."

"However, I doubt we'll be testing that theory," Riza added firmly. "Kimblee retreating to what essentially amounts to a coma will not cure me of the vampirism, nor the Colonel. And I certainly don't want to be wearing this —" She plucked at the charm around her neck. "— for the rest of my life."

Scar spoke up from his bird's-eye view on the rim of the skylight. "Kimblee is as helpless as he's likely to be for the time being. Killing him now would be to do it in cold blood," he pointed out. He waited until both Colonel and Lieutenant were looking up at him before adding, "That mode of destruction is no stranger to me," he said, quietly. "If you want to spare the blood from your hands, I will do it for you."

Silence fell over the atrium, all eyes turning once again to the two suppressed vampires. Roy was the first to speak, murmuring, "It's your call, Hawkeye. You were the first one turned, so you get the final say."

Desire for satisfaction burned in Riza's chest, tightening the muscles and constricting her breath. She wanted nothing more than to take Kimblee's head off, to end the influence he had held over her life for close to a month…. She wanted it to be her own hands, her own actions that ended him, that removed him from this world once and for all. She wanted righteous retribution —

No, she told herself, scoldingly. Call it what it is. You want revenge.

Turning her face back to the broken skylight, she nodded firmly. "Since you offered, thank you. I'm already sullied enough from all of this. Committing a vengeful murder will only add to that." Her eyes dropped back to Kimblee. "And for what he did in the war, you have more of a right to end him than I do."

Scar nodded in acknowledgement, and dropped from the roof to the floor below, landing in a crouch a few metres away from the slowly weakening vampire. "I don't take the same satisfaction in killing State alchemists that I used to," he said calmly. "I no longer seek vengeance. This… this will be a righteous death."

Kimblee rolled his eyes. "More dramatics," he muttered. Getting slowly to his feet, he faced his would-be executioner, hands folded behind his back. "Well, then, no sense in dragging it out. Let's have it."

There was a moment's hesitation as Scar weighed the vampire's words and body language. Clearly, Kimblee felt he still had at least a chance at the upper hand… but it was difficult to see where. The sunlight was weakening him as it strengthened, he hadn't fed in at least twenty-four hours, and he was trapped by a rune circle. Scar was not affected by the light, had had at least a little rest, and could leave the circle any time he chose…. Still, caution was dictated by Kimblee's presence alone.

Caution was not enough.

The moment Scar put a foot toward the former State alchemist, Kimblee launched himself forward. He cannoned into the Ishvalan man, knocking him back a step before seizing him by the arm and turning on the spot, using the momentum and Scar's own weight against him to fling him from the inner circle.

Scar caught his balance just outside the second circle, steadying himself as Kimblee resumed his former casual stance. "It would seem," the vampire said coolly, "that your fears of murdering me in cold blood were unfounded. I don't intend to go down without a fight."

Several seconds of grim silence fell over the atrium… broken when Riza gave a short, annoyed huff of a sigh. "Very well, then," she said, setting her shoulders square and lifting her chin. "Miles? Hand me your knife, please."

"Lieutenant?" Fuery spoke up, halfway curious, halfway anxious. "What are you —"

He broke off as, knife in hand, Riza went to one knee and pried a tile loose from the damp grouting with the knifetip. Flipping the tile out of the way, she stood, stepping forward, across where the barrier between the two circles had been.

"You were offered what would have been a very quick death," she said, brown eyes cold and hard on Kimblee. "But you've declined that. I was ready to let someone else end this, but you've presented yourself as an able opponent." She looked to the side, where Scar was just stepping to the edge of the circle. "Scar, this doesn't mean I appreciate your offer any less, but the rules and circumstances just changed.

"I'll take it from here."