[center][i][b]"A match of chess only begins when all the pieces are on the board"[/b][/i][/center]




"How long has it been since we got a day off?" The notorious Silver Reaper murmured in a dull monotone, his hands clasped around a wine glass filled with strawberry shake and laced with chocolate wafers. His eyes, veiled behind his silver tinted spectacles, casually scanning the room and the dozens of individuals that appeared to be glaring back, silently expressing their aversion to his presence. [i]"Is it really that blasphemous to have a strawberry shake in a wine glass?[/i] He thought to himself, blaming the awkward atmosphere on his drink as opposed to the more probable rationale, namely the six foot metal coffin which he had brought along with him.  

"Uh-- like a week ago," came the reply from across the table where sat the Reaper's accomplice, her tone far too adorable to succeed in her attempts to reprimand her partner. "Everyone thinks we are super lazy! Terra calls me 'The Lazy Princess', do you get a silly cute nick name? No!" She continued, pouting and venting while tilting her head from side to side, her blonde pigtails flailing about. 

"I am sorry, are we discussing nick names? You realize....people call me Angel because of you, right?" He snapped back, his eyebrow raised as if calling 'check' all the while evading his partner's subtle attempts of stealing his drink. 

"If you don't like that name then why do you make all those stupid dramatic catch phrases?" The little porcelain doll retorted, a mischievous smile spread across her innocent face. "You can call me Angel; of what you may ask? Why your misfortune," the princess spoke, feigning an intimidating accent while pretending to adjust the frame of her non-existent glasses. 

"I do no- well no, that was actually quite accurate, touché Rena touché," Angel murmured, the meekness of his tone revealing the Reaper had accepted defeat after witnessing that performance. "Did you happen to check the mural, it was recently painted," Angel spoke once more, after swallowing the awkward two minutes of self-loathing, his fingers pointing upwards.

"Oh wow, oh wow!" Rena exclaimed with jaw dropped, her eyes enchanted by the masterful painting that spanned across the entire roof of this establishment. The mural showed a snake eating it's own tail, the "Ouroboros" which was also the name of the bar in which the Chrono and the Lost Number were seated, along with countless other alchemists. 

There exist a multitude of these bars, the "Ouroboros", spread around the globe and all of them serve as a neutral zone for all alchemists, be it Asylum, Chrono or rogue. It exists as a place where one can seek solace from persecutes, a mediating ground, to buy or sell information or for lunatics to enjoy a drink. There exist but two rules within the Ouroboros, 'no human shall ever enter' and 'no blood will be shed within it'. Even Chronos dare not intercede with these laws for it is known that it is one of the twelve who own this premise. 

[center][b]"Hide and seek is over Crow!"[/b][/center]

And just like that, Ante-Mortem's appreciation of art came to a halt as a finely dressed and relatively tall man appeared to barge inside the bar while yelling at the man wearing the flamboyant crimson vest. 

"I bet you think you are real clever coming here, don't you." The tall, black suited and red tied man roared, his finger trembling in rage while pointed at the culprit. "Do you have any idea what you two did, do you two have any idea the kind of pressure that is on my ass right now!" He continued almost hyperventilating while pacing about. 

"Calm yourself Morty, we completed the mission and everything is dandy. Why don't you loosen your tie and come have a drink with us, they have lovely strawberry shakes." Angel crowed, his tone almost provokingly casual as if deliberately trying to ruffle up this traumatized man, even more. 

"I don't want a stupid shake damn it! I need you to come with me, there is an official order for the Ante Mortem to be debriefed on a matter most imperative. It probably has to do with you mission and WHAT YOU DID!" The man couldn't help but slam the bartender's table before pouring himself a glass of whiskey. Before the three had even realized, the bar had suddenly been vacated, hordes of alchemists had already escaped via the back entrance from merely hearing the name "Ante Mortem". Despite neutral ground, the terror was enough to quake their very souls.

"You know what, I think I am going to stay here a while. The drinks are great and this couch is oh so comfortable," Angel muttered in his usual uninterested and casual demeanor all the while stretching and yawning, as if preparing for a nap.

"I had a feeling you would say that, now it is true I am bound by the rules that no blood must be shed however there is no rule that states I can't whisk you to innocence." Morty replied sadistically, as if driving pleasure just from the thought of what is about to happen. 

[center]"Uh-oh, big brother is in trouble, 
No point in the struggle, 
Hands can't dig a grave, 
So here is my shovel!"[/center]

The Chrono couldn't help but giggle and sing a rhyme dedicated at the misfortune that was about to befall the mighty Silver Reaper and what heightened her amusement even more so was the fact that her brother had just realized it as well.

"W-wait Morty, we can talk this out like civilized people," Angel, who by now had suddenly sprung to his feet and scanning the surroundings for possible escape routes. [i]"Damn it, I can't teleport. This means he has those wretched 'Porters' surrounding the building, Morty you slimy bastard.[/i] He cursed under his breathe while masking it with a smile and hand gestures signaling Morty to calm down and take a seat. 

"It’s too late Angel, the porting sequence has already begun," clearly undeterred from his goal to bring the culprits to justice, Angel's attempts at diffusing the situation had failed. 



[center]"It looks like big brother is getting angry." 

"Uh-oh the countdown is starting."

"Whoopsy I thought it was 5 minutes, it is actually 5 seconds"[/center]


While Angel's repetitive attempts at teleportation continued to fail his partner fiendishly began to commentate on the transpiring events, her mischief successfully stimulating her partner's rage. 

"You stop this right now Morty!" From Angel's dark tone of voice, it was clear the Lost Number had taken a far more sinister persona and the rules of Oroboros were not enough to keep the Reaper at bay. As his gaze slowly narrowed down onto the target in front of him, flames appeared to erupt from the palm of his hands, manifesting itself in the shape of a smoldering blade. 

"That was your last chance," any restraint died after those words and without hesitation the Lost Number lunged forward seeking to pierce the man with a blade of flames.

"I will flay you alive!" Angel's battle cry echoed throughout, the echo itself leading the Silver spectacles Asylum to suddenly freeze. Rooted and almost stoic in all motion, he slowly looked about his surroundings and a feeling of sickness suddenly overcoming him when his eyes finally managed to stare beneath him. One would think it would be the visage of an impaled Asylum, luckily however the flames dissipated before reaching Morty, leading the man to merely faint in relief. The source of Angel's discomfort lay in the fact that he was roughly 70,000 feet high while inside the monstrosity that was A.M.R.O gargantuan flying battleship, the Innocence. The fact that the floor was transparent, may also have played a role in the Lost Number's agitation.

“Come on big brother, we should explore!” Rena chirped in delight, in striking contrast to Angel who appeared to hate the very thought of being in Innocence, the Chrono looked ecstatic. “You never let me come here and now we are going on an adventure!” She exclaimed in delight while dragging her partner, who had yet to recover from shock, with her off into lands unknown. 




“ANTE MORTEM, YOU CAN’T GET AWAY WITH DESTROYING THE FUCKING PYRAMID OF GIZA!” Morty suddenly woke up, screaming. “What…where did they go…..what the fuck….three hours have passed?” He grunted as his bloodshot eyes stared at his watch, slowly getting to his feet and brushing off the dust before loosening his tie and throwing it onto the floor along with an insignia that distinguished him as a specialized agent tasked with observing and monitoring problematic individuals within A.M.R.O, specifically Chronos and Lost Numbers. 

“I fucking quit, the debrief is bound to begin soon and those two demons can find their own way along with the rest of the weird misfits that are being assembled. There is no way I am taking responsibility for what a collection of haphazard, dysfunctional group of alchemists might do with the Members of The Crests. A war is brewing that might shake this very organization to its core and the higher ups picked that strange bunch to be grouped, I should have retired last year.”