Riza's Mission (FMA oneshot)

Riza's Mission

*Contains slight violence* *Also, I do not own "Bonne Nuit"*

Riza Hawkeye sighed softly as she tied her hair into a knot on top of her head. She wouldn't have time to wash her hair tonight, she was already running late. She stepped into the shower, relishing the way the water cascaded down her. She then lathered on the heavily strawberry scented soap on the edge of the tub and caked her cheeks with facial cream. Riza turned the knob and stepped out into the steamy room, wrapping herself in a fluffy white towel. She dried off and then shimmied into her dress. It was a dark, silky blue flapper dress. It had no sleeves, wrapped tightly around her and ended a few inches above her knees, basically a bodice with very little skirt. Perfect for tonight's occasion. She clasped a pearl necklace around her throat and slid on matching earrings, then pulled her hair out of the topknot and let it hang around her shoulders in loose golden waves. Riza picked up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder before exiting her apartment.

Once out on the street, she whistled for a taxi. The yellow vehicle screeched to a halt in front of her, and the door flew open. A man's head poked out of the window. He had long black hair done back in a thick ponytail, and his face appeared shifty due to his eyes and thin smile. "You called, miss?" He spoke with an accent that it took a moment for Riza to recognize. Xingese. 

"Yes, I need to get to the Hayate Night Club, please. I'm running late for my performance, so hurry if you would."

The cabbie grinned widely as Riza stepped into the car and took off before she managed to close the door all the way. "The Hayate Night Club, you say? Not exactly a friendly place, I've heard. Sure you want to be going there alone?"

"I am quite sure, thank you." Riza spoke with such finality that the driver decided to try a different route of conversation. 

"You said you're performing tonight. Which singer are you, again? All these big-shot beauties are hard for me to keep up with."

"Sir, that was a bit rude." Came a voice from the front seat. Riza hadn't noticed another passenger in the cab. Either she was losing her touch, or the woman up front was incredibly skilled at blending into the shadows. She had coal black eyes that watched the blonde intently from the rearview mirror. Her dress style was slightly surprising; It was very forward, being trousers, an aviator's jacket, a scarf, and a paperboy's cap perched on top of her dark hair. 

Riza smiled kindly at the two cabbies. "I took no offense. Though, this is my stop." The black-haired woman came around and opened the cab's rear door, allowing Riza to step out. She handed the driver a few folded bills and headed into the club. 

The low lights filter through the smoke-filled air, casting a dim yellow glow about the crowded room. She clicked cordially up the steps to the stage just as the last band was packing up their instruments. The singer, a young woman with wavy black hair and a rather lowcut dress nodded in greeting. "I like your dress."

Riza cast a glance down at her garment, glittering like sapphires in the stage lights. "Thank you, I think you and your brothers put on a lovely show."

"Why, thank you. Be careful, dear. Tonight's crowd is murderous." She side-eyed her wild-haired brother, who was holding a handkerchief to his bloodied nose.

"I will keep that in mind." Riza sat down on the tall stool upstage as the other musicians made their exit. She had no musical accompaniment tonight; the crowd would be completely intent on her voice alone. 

"AND NOW," The announcer called. "IT IS MY PLEASURE TO PRESENT TONIGHT'S SPECIAL GUEST, MISS RIZA HAWKEYE!"  The clubbers erupted with clapping and cheering, and a few whistles from a rather overenthusiastic man with a cigarette in his mouth.