11 - As they did in the days of old

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Vain leaned over and jerked Ed's pantleg up as much as it would go without him having to do much work. He examined Fullmetal's automail shin, clearly disappointed.

"That won't be any good at all," he said. "What about your other leg? Is it fake, too?"

The leader of the Cardinal Sin took a look and beamed when he saw that Edward's right leg was made of flesh and not metal.

"Here's a warning." Vain held up the torch and directed it towards his captive's limb. "It's going to hurt like bloody damnation in hell."

All of a sudden, Elric was aware of what Vain was going to do. He tried desperately to wriggle away. He was about to transmute the chains binding him when Vain stomped his foot down on Edward's face again. The young man's jaw was slammed into the hard ground and pain as though an arrow shot through his head while his vision got blurry and distorted. His mind went blank...

.

.

.

.

Then, through this blankness of mind—this loss of clear thought process—emerged a horrendous, excruciating thing that gripped every sense and nerve he had in his body; Pain.

Ed screamed as the torch was pressed to his real leg, burning first through the material of his pantleg, and next the flames reached his skin. It was just as if—as Vain had described—hellfire was being inflicted upon him. Dirt gathered in his open mouth while he held the scream of genuine, physical agony.

The torch was pulled back. Glaring down at Ed writhing and moaning on the ground, Vain announced in a ruthless and victorious tone, "You want to know why this town is called Torchpit? It's cause they used to dig pits just like this and pile dead bodies in them and set them on fire with torches. This is a little improvisation since you're still alive but it's a great way to put you through hell for your contribution to the downfall of the homunculi! BURN, YOU INCOMPETENT FUCKING BASTARD!"

Vain brought the torch ragingly down on Ed's side, twisting it. Burning flesh was ripped apart, pushed around and blood poured from thin fissures in the mess of a wound that was left behind. He kept going, unmerciful and too angry to stop torturing the suffering Fullmetal Alchemist; the latter's blood-curling screams accompanied the sunset that night.

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