*FeeCo Train slides into the station. Various mudokons, supplies, and sligs depart.*
Virgil: Are we there yet? Or have I died of boredom from that odd-awful, long ride?
*Comotion ensues. Virgil is tossed from the car, muzzled, into a SoulStorm Brew dispenser. He gets up, rips off the muzzle, curses out at the Train, then slinks over to the shadows and slouches against a blood-stained wall.*
Virgil: Miserable slackers...
(NOTICE: First attempt. My forgiveness if I have errored in the game.)
__________________
Reports of my death have been somewhat exaggerated.
"Is my species of consequence to you now, Mustang? Did you really want my position that badly? Although I can appreciate the vanity of ambition, you should have spent more time planing. Even if you had somehow pulled this off, the counsil would have found you out, and they'd never let an assassin back into their fold." - Pride, FullMetal Alchemist
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