According to Google, Arkady is our hero, Arkady is the villain, Arkady is a common theme, Arkady is the highlight of the novel, and Arkady is thought to be, is all, is back. Arkady is not a member of any public groups, considered a pariah and finds hostility everywhere, a master platinum printer, a genius of restaurant business, falling in love with a beautiful and headstrong dissident, not willing to be Versilov, not afraid to use the banal and ’unpoetic,’ and saddled with an unspeaking orphan who plays mental speed chess. In reality, however, Arkady is simply a small red mammal of female gender and indeterminate species, possessing of various literary delusions.
Envy could rip him and all the worlds in two.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
Sometimes Roy would just hold him for an hour or more, late at night, blind comfort.
Ed always got sappy in the afterglow.
They kissed only once. She tasted like ashes and brine.
Greed grinned, slid a hand from his pocket, curled one suddenly black claw. "Great. Come on, let's get it on."
"Would you like a blindfold, Mr. Tucker?"
She clung to him so tightly that his skin was white under her fingertips.
Oh, yes, Ed had ordered him not to speak, too. Couldn't forget about that.
Half the apple pie was still on a cracked plate on the windowsill, covered with a bowl so it didn't go stale before tomorrow, because it was all he had in the house.
"Did God," Scar asked softly, "mean for us to die?"
All he had to do was snap his fingers. Again. Again in this endless night of terror.
When she prayed the next day, she only whispered the bits about sin, because how could anything that felt that good be wrong?
"Don't worry," Greed had whispered. "I'll take care of your little death."
Sick, both of them, sick and inhuman, the sigils of the devil's research pressed against each other's skin.
The easiest way to destroy an enemy is to destroy those he depends upon.