"Hey, hey, we can't have you catching all the fish, now!" a sweating, bearded man with a thick accent complained lightheartedly. He wiped the sea salt from his brow, one hand still grasping a fishing net that seemed to be full to bursting.
The subject to his complain merely laughed as the waves lashed over the sides of the little dinghy, pants rolled up to his calves and hair bound back in a high ponytail. He wiped back a strand of flaxen hair, and another wave nearly lashed him to the deck. There was a great cry as the other men fought to stay on board. The waves had suddenly picked up about ten minutes before, and the fishermen were shouting to each other in their own language with a little trepidation.
"What's going on?" the foreigner shouted to the bearded fisherman as they hauled in the catch as best they could. He shook out his metal leg, hoping it hadn't become water logged. He'd hoped to keep it from getting wet, but it looked like the waves had decided otherwise. He'd have to be extra careful making sure it was completely dry before he went to sleep, or else something on the inside might rust.
"A storm was pushing these fish to find less chaotic waters. We're about to end up in the middle of it, it looks like. This will be our last net for the day, and then we'll go back. Getting caught in a storm this far out is not good," the bearded fisherman shouted over the sudden rush of water into the boat. The foreigner looked back at the mainland, a thin brown line against the horizon of what looked to be endless water.
"AAAAGH!" one of the men shouted as he was suddenly thrown in the water, his life line pulling taut.
"Andre!" a man shouted, the brother of the downed sailor. The other fishermen rushed the side of the boat, causing the dinghy to rock a little as they all looked for the overboard sailor.
The bearded man and the foreigner hauled the catch into the boat frantically, and they hurried to the side of the boat where Andre had disappeared.
"Fillipe, my leg! I cut it open! It stings!" the other man complained in his native tongue, the foreigner just barely managing to catch what he said. "I can't swim, Fillipe! You have to haul me in!"
"For the love of Dio, why does this happen?" the bearded man, Fillipe, muttered under his breath. "I apologize Mr. Elric. I know you just wanted a good romp on the ocean, not working a squall."
"Are you kidding? This is a lot more exciting than some boring trawl over the bay," Ed laughed, watching the men begin hauling Andre back towards the boat, though he'd been borne quite a ways away by the rough current. Suddenly, Ed's eyes narrowed as he looked out towards the waves, and he thought he'd seen something slicing through the water, something like a sail. His hands gripped the gunwale of the ship as he realized that what he'd seen was a fin.
"Shark!"
"What? Where? Oh no! Haul him in! Haul faster!"
"Because this can't have gotten worse," Fillipe muttered as he suddenly raced for the net full of fish. Ed did a double-take before following him and shouting, "Fillipe! What are you doing?!"
"Distraction. Hopefully he'll go for the fish instead," Fillipe said as he started to throw the entire netful overboard, and Ed hurriedly helped, watching the progress of the sailor and his assailant.
However, it was painfully clear to Ed that this wasn't going to work out. The shark wasn't even paying attention to the load of dead or fleeing fish. No one was willing to jump in the water and help the poor man swim, and Ed wasn't sure he could blame them.
His immediate thought was to clap his hands and freeze the water, make a barrier, something, until he realized- of course. A pang raced through him. It looked like he'd have to do this the old-fashioned way.
He suddenly unbuttoned his shirt and threw it at the nearest sailor, shouting, "Keep that safe! It's got my watch in the front pocket! If it's not there when I come back..."
The sailor audibly gulped and nodded. Fillipe stared at the foreigner with incredulity before finally finding his voice.
"Mr. Elric! It's too dangerous! Andre knows what he's doing!" he shouted, but Ed was already stepping up on the gunwale of the boat.
"Hey, don't worry! At least you can kill a shark, can't you?" Ed answered back. This would be nothing compared to fighting a homunculus... Those things just didn't die.
Of course, it briefly crossed his mind that there might be such a thing as a homunculus shark, and he tried to bury that thought immediately. He made a face as he stared out at the ocean and what might be lurking there. No use combining two bad things into one worse thought.
Ed yanked his life line once, quickly grabbed a life preserver, and took a diving leap off the boat. With great strides, he swam towards the man, hoping that he wouldn't become the main dish to Andre's appetizer. The waves were stronger than he expected, however, as he found that he was going hardly a few yards with every couple strokes of his arms. This wasn't going as well as he'd anticipated, but then again, how was he supposed to know the force of the ocean, living in a landlocked country all his life?!
"Here! Take this!" Ed yelled at Andre as he neared him, and he threw the life preserver to the man who was struggling to stay afloat. The sailor took it, spluttering as another wave ran right over him. Ed was borne in a tumble of green water and foam, and he coughed as he swallowed sea water. Ed himself grabbed the life preserver as he realized that his automail was beginning to drag him down. As good as his mechanic was, she couldn't make him light as a feather... And if there's one thing he was sure of, automail sank like a stone in water.
It looks like he'd made a rash decision yet again. Alphonse would strangle him if he'd known what he was doing.
"What are you guys doing back there!? Start pulling harder!" Ed shouted.
"MI DIO!" the sailor screamed frantically, and Ed realized, with a rather comically horrified expression, that the shark was racing towards them at what seemed to be the speed of sound.
"SWIM! SWIM ALREADY! DO YOU WANT TO DIE?!" Ed shouted as he frantically tried to paddle away from their pursuer. Andre was too busy blubbering, praying, and flailing, the shark fin seeming to get closer with every wave.
Ed dunked Andre's head under water for a moment, and the man spluttered back up with quite a few angry words that Ed was happy to not understand.
"Get a hold of yourself!"
Suddenly, there was a moment of instinct where both men looked down to see that the shark had disappeared.
"Uh-oh," they both said in unison as they looked at each other with deadpan grimness. That wasn't good.
"Sit in the buoy!"
"Senor, no comprejendi los palasa-!"
"Buoy! Sit! Butt in hole, now!"
Ed hauled the man over the buoy, trying to get his bleeding leg out of the water when he caught a glimpse of something darker than the surrounding seawater, the tip of a fin rising next to the buoy as they were hauled to the boat. Ed shouted as he kicked out, and he felt his foot connect with something fleshy.
The shark seemed to explode out of the water as blood dripped from its gills, and Ed and Andre screamed at their highest, girliest pitch. It was almost thirty feet long with a fin nearing three feet tall with a mouth full of teeth and eyes as dead as stones. Ed lashed out at the open mouth with his metal leg, and the shark suddenly latched on to it, dragging him underneath the water.
All he could see was particles of sea creatures, seaweed, and green, water rushing in his ears as he frantically tried to pull away from the shark thrashing him beneath the waves. Idly in the back of his mind he thought, You know, I'm almost glad I don't have my real leg.
Rudely, after what seemed like eternity, he was hauled out of the water by some frantic fishermen, gasping and coughing- still attached to a tenacious shark. The fishermen screamed, also at their girliest (perhaps an ability of the shark, to emasculate the men it ate), and they began to beat at it with sticks and prods.
"Get off of me, you overgrown tuna!" Ed screamed beating at its snout with his other foot. His heel made a connection with the tip of its nose, and the shark let go in what seemed to be a daze, hooks from the fishermen's drag-sticks lodged in its skin. The entire boat seemed to rock as the deadweight of the shark pulled them over, and all the men shouted as they tried to haul both men and their new found catch into the boat. Luckily, it was very clear that somehow, either by the wounds in its flesh or Ed's well placed knock on the nose, it had died very swiftly.
Ed was dumped onto the deck, watching the men wrestle with the shark as they turned their bowsprit towards home. Andre, in shock, merely sat with the ship's medic, vaguely nodding now and then to the words he was being told as he had his leg fixed up. Fillipe stood over him, a towel over his shoulder. He handed Ed the towel, and he said, "Good work, for an Easterner."
Ed laughed nervously, staring at his near brush with death. The men were shouting with excitement now, probably having enough fish to sell for the next two weeks without another runaround, much less the shark to sell. Ed leaned back on his arms, exhausted and dripping.
"Yeah. I guess."
"I would ask you a favor, though, after that."
"Uh-huh?"
"Do not ever do that again."
...Along this ivory coast, with its white sands and beautiful azure sky, I thought of my own hometown, wondering if the same blue firmament hovered over the land I'd come to call home. I'd love to share the intricate sights of the written-upon towers with their gold filigree and geodesic relief design that so reminds me of the transmutation circles of my youth-
Brrrring brrrrring.
Ed ignored the phone, his fingers flying over the typewriter keys. Ever since he'd found it at one of those 'day markets' for a stealing bargain, he'd used it ever since to write his pamphlets about his journeys. He'd always liked the idea of keeping a journal, but on his long road to retrieving Al's body, he'd never had the time. The closest he'd gotten were his notes disguised as travelogues, carefully encrypted to look like nothing more than the descriptions of far off towns.
-beneath the sun that seems to glitter just beyond reach of my fingertips above my head. The buildings are of the whitest alabaster, white washed to gleam underneath the beating rays of the sun, as if that fiery orb wished to hammer its white-gold on to their surfaces-
Brrrrring! Brrrrring!
Ed's eyelid twitched as he rubbed his nose. He continued, though he did tap the keys a little harder than necessary.
-The smells of the market place waft in the air from their stalls, reminding me of the markets in my humble town. Foods of every kind and make-
BRRRRING! BRRRRRRRRRIIIII-
Ed snatched the phone out of its cradle and barked, "Whaddya want?!"
"Mr. Elric? El transfer de telephonio est para su de Amestriuso conna un persion de Moostang-"
"Uh... Sorry, I don't speak Cretian..."
"Ah? You have a transfer from Amestris for you from one person named Moostang."
"Moose tang? Uh... I don't know a 'moose tang'."
"No, no, uh... Must tang."
"...Hang up on him. I don't want to talk to him."
"Is that not the leader of your-?"
"Hang up on him and tell him I'm busy."
For the past several weeks, Mustang had been calling him incessantly. Mostly for what seemed like meaningless chitchat, most usually at the most inopportune time. It was as if Ed was being watched for the best time to call and make him angry. He'd had it once where Mustang called him after he'd had a bad run in with the side of a mountain in a rain storm and he'd just taken off his clothes so he could finally take a nice long soak. And then Mustang wouldn't shut up about the price of apples, the weather in Amestris, or the fact that Riza was acting a little odd as of late.
As much as Ed loved Riza, he didn't care to know about the fact Roy had caught her eating fried potato wedges with chocolate syrup. Nor did he feel like it was appropriate to do so stark naked.
"Senor, he has called many a time. He is... persistent."
Ed took a very deep breath, banged his head on the headboard of his bed, and let it out.
"Patch me in. I'll tell him where he can stick it myself."
There was a click as the line was transferred over, a slight tone sounding before finally a familiar, "Hello Edward."
"Screw a donkey."
"Now, that's not a very nice way to greet an old friend," Mustang said genially, and Ed tried his hardest not to try and break the headboard with his skull. Maybe if he incapacitated himself, he wouldn't have to talk to the old buzzard.
"Do you mind? I'm recovering from almost becoming shark chum," Ed muttered into the phone, glancing over at the photograph that had been taken shortly after the event. A shark dangled from a huge line of rope off of a wooden crane. The guys from the ship had decided to make shark fin soup, but Ed had declined from the rare delicacy. The entire time they were taking that picture, Ed couldn't help but wonder if the stupid shark was still staring at him. He hated eating food that seemed to look at you as much as you looked at them.
Not to mention he really was recovering. According to the mechanic who'd had a look at his leg, he'd come pretty darn close to ripping open his femoral artery because of all the thrashing that shark had put him through. He'd fixed a lot of the inside bits and pieces, and he'd done his best with the superficial areas as well when Ed mentioned how his mechanic at home was going to brain him with a wrench if he came back with it in pieces. The mechanic had laughed and asked if Ed's mechanic was a woman. When Ed answered yes, the mechanic said, "Don't worry, boy, all women mechanics are like that. Met one who ran me over with her bike once outside a tavern after I said her work was as good as sticking a metal rod in a piece of concrete. I sure did learn my lesson."
Ed now had the sneaking suspicion that Pinako may have journeyed to Creta long before he had.
"Actually, I'm calling because I need a favor," Mustang mentioned nonchalantly.
"You need a favor like I need another ripped artery."
"Fullmetal, I'm serious."
There was a brief pause as Ed's face sobered.
"I'm not Fullmetal anymore, Mustang."
"...Sorry, it was force of habit."
"It's okay."
Though Ed had never viewed his loss as anything but necessary, there were things that did touch a raw nerve. Today's failure to fix something easily with just a clap had brought that to the forefront.
"I wasn't kidding, besides. Something's going on, and it needs your specific expertise."
"Heh, expertise in what? Travel info and how to pack a suitcase in under five minutes?"
"Human transmutation."
Ed's eyes widened. Were people still stupid enough to try? Even after all they'd gone through, there were still idiots who ignored the obvious failures, nay, catastrophes brought about by human transmutation and attempted it themselves as if they were God. He should have known, but he wasn't sure how this had anything to do with him.
"And?"
"There's been a spree of murders. All of them contained within one geographic area, which may or may not be coincidence. There's also this little problem of two warring alchemists in that very area, though it's not clear if either of them have caused any casualties or fatalities. We can superficially link the murders to the two alchemists playing soldier up in the mountains, but we need an expert to study their notes, track them down, and get some more info. You're the best we've got on this subject, seeing as Marcoh's sick."
"Have you talked to Al?"
"He's said that he's headed in right away."
"I don't know, Mustang. I want to keep my blood pressure low for at least another fifteen years before even attempting to jump back into that subject."
There was a sigh on the other end.
"Resembool is in the area, Ed."
Ed's breath caught in his throat. It was as if someone had stepped on his chest and forced all the air out of his lungs.
"You're sure?"
"The area is well defined, if I do say so. We've got a good idea of where our killer is, but we've got no way to tell who actually is the killer."
"..."
"Edward?"
"Give me three days. I'll be there soon."
Ed hung up the phone, putting his head in his hands.
"It seems like another life time," Ed muttered to himself as he stared at the military building. Mustang couldn't meet him personally, as he was on a business trip in Ishval dealing with the foreign policy of the region as well as trying to establish a trade route and railroad to Xing. Mustang had found out about the tiff in the mountains through Sheska in the Investigations Department. She was supposed to be filling him in on the details.
Ed walked up the steps, wincing as his automail leg twinged repeatedly with every step. It hadn't healed all the way yet, and he had a slight limp considering the fact that the skin around the port had torn. Not to mention, sitting on a train for about three days had done nothing for his posture or his legs, and he felt particularly grumpy.
"Edward? Oh my goodness, is that you Mr. Elric?!"
Ed looked up the stairs, and he smiled at Sheska and her radiant expression. She bounded down the stairs in her military uniform, and Ed laughed.
"Still part of the Investigations Department?" Ed asked.
"There are a lot of files that were burned in the Central Library," Sheska lamented, brushing a hand through her hair. "I get asked to be an expert witness a lot, considering my reading memory is so reliable. I even had to do a court-martial case because I caught a doctored note someone had sent."
"Seems like you've got a lot to do here," Ed sighed, staring at the imposing building. Marble columns held up the triangular overhang, leading into the dark office building. The Amestrian flag hung over the entire ensemble down the middle, halfway to the ground. Sheska looked up at the building with something like sweet melancholy.
"Yeah. Not as much fun as it used to be, you know. Anyways, enough of that. Come on in, I'm sure you're hungry..."
After settling down in one of the libraries, Sheska nervously looked over her shoulder.
"Look, Mustang asked me to tell you as a favor-"
"He's collecting them from everybody these days," Ed muttered under his breath as he stirred his tea.
Sheska made a face at him, and she shook her head.
"You don't understand. The military is really reluctant to work this case. With how much went on last year about Father- no one wants to get their hands dirty with this. That's why Mustang is asking you to take it on. He says he'll hire you as a private contractor," Sheska relayed, fiddling with her spoon.
Ed blinked in surprised. He'd actually get paid? He was so used to the military taking on his expenses as a kid that he had to learn how to actually work while he was abroad. That wasn't to say he was lazy or spoiled- he'd just never had to truly seek employment in the usual sense. It was a good thing that towns like Youswell had kicked him out of their taverns or else he'd have never understood the meaning of working manually for his own paycheck or going hungry some nights.
"Private contractor... Huh," Ed said, sipping his tea and making a face. He preferred something a lot sweeter.
"Anyhow, this is what we know so far," Sheska said, handing him a few files she'd pulled from the shelves.
Ed flipped through the files as the bespectacled librarian continued.
"We know for sure that the two alchemists have motive to kill each other. They've caused about a hundred million cenz worth of damage to the towns of Arkhart, Spring Dell, Yellowfield, Darton, and a few others. Resembool was only mildly affected, seeing as they lost part of their train station," Sheska briefed him.
"As for their styles, they typically use the surrounding masonry, and every now and again the tall, brawny one will even transmute his nails or his saliva to create knives or bombs, but so far we've not documented those extensively. Our informants don't have any more information on them specifically because of the rurality of the region, the lack of proper documentation, and the unwillingness of the villagers to testify despite the wreckage to their town. The people, for one reason or another, are fiercely protective of either of the two alchemists, the one with glasses or the brawny one."
"I'm not surprised. You get an alchemist in those regions, and the townspeople go nuts. I've been there, done that," Ed laughed as he looked over the faces of the warring alchemists.
One of them had a thin face, side swept hair in a neat fashion who looked like at one point or another he'd sucked on a lemon and found it exceedingly distasteful. The other photo was of a man with a tall, handsome build, short choppy hair and a jovial expression. Both pictures were a little blurry and taken from either a great distance or an odd angle, possibly because neither would reveal themselves for a nice mugshot.
"And the murders?" Ed asked.
Sheska squirmed in her seat, chewing on her lip.
"They weren't... pretty..."
She slid the separate file over with her fingertips, as if disgusted enough to think the vileness could rub off on her hands. Ed flipped it open, and his eyes widened.
There were full color pictures of the bodies inside of crude transmutation circles created with blood and what looked like ink. The body were inscribed as well with alchemical symbols to match the circle they were placed in, and every body was naked, spread eagle, with a slit on either side of their body, possibly to drain the blood. It was incredibly methodical, and what was worse was there was no pattern to the killings. There appeared to be no connection between any of the victims. It was as if the killer had chosen them at random. In all cases, the hands and feet had very specific markings that immediately tipped Edward off to the fact that these were Philosopher's Stone transmutation circles, something he was sure that Mustang had caught himself.
"I'll... I'll need to study these in more detail. Are there any other folders of evidence?" Ed asked as he put the files in a bag he'd taken with him. Sheska shook her head. Ed made a move to get up, mumbling a thank you, deep in thought, when Sheska interrupted him.
"Uh, Mr. Elric! Mustang also, um, told me something else to tell you," she said nervously, playing with her fingers. She didn't dare look at him, and Ed stared.
"What is it?"
"You... uh, have an escort. You're supposed to be guarded around the clock by a State Alchemist, a metallurgist called the Iron Fist," Sheska said. "The alchemist is supposed to be meeting you at your hotel room."
Ed's eyelid twitched, and he rubbed it in order to keep from blowing a blood vessel.
"I'm perfectly capable. Be sure to tell him that."
Sheska sighed. "He warned me you'd say that. So he told me to say this to you: 'You can run but you can't hide.'"
Ed lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He'd switched hotels, just in case Mustang wanted to tail him through his receipt orders, and he'd settled in for the night in his pajamas, a comfy pair of blue, llama-bearing jammies he'd picked up in Creta after his last pair of pajamas suddenly found themselves in a rather tight spot when his suitcase flung open over a water-wheel.
The phone rang, and Ed reluctantly picked it up.
"Yes?"
"You have a call from Mr. Alphonse Elric-"
"Oh! Patch him in right away, madam."
The line clicked over, and Al asked, "Hello?"
"Hey, Al! Long time, no talk!"
"Brother! It's been such a long time! Can you believe it's been almost a year since we left? I feel like it's been no time at all and a lifetime all rolled up into one! I can't wait to tell you about all the stuff I've learned about alkahestry here in Xing, and Mei Chang and her family's been real nice to me."
Ed smiled as he listened to Al excitedly ramble on about the country with its imposing limestone mountains and the beautiful paintings, embroidery, even pretty women!
"Now, now, Al, you can't tell me you've suddenly become a womanizer over there, have you? I hear they make you marry 'em if you get any of them pregnant, and if you don't they feed you to sharks," Ed joked.
Al spluttered, "Brother, that's indecent! I would never do anything like that! Besides, I've been so busy learning from Mei, I don't have time for other women... Though I have to be careful leaving the palace, because everyone wants to meet me. Westerners are odd ones over there."
Ed pouted.
"Palace?! You've been cooped up in a palace?!"
"Well, yeah. Mei Chang's palace is a lot smaller than the other clan palaces, but it's still really nice. It's not all fun and games, though. Going to all the court activities is really boring after the first three times of watching the dancers and the announcers and the gong-ringing."
Ed curled up on his bed in disappointment. Here he was, after having traveled hundreds of miles, and not once had he gotten to sleep on something resembling a feather bed. Everything had been stuffed with hay, wool, or some form of newspaper. At times, Ed didn't even have the money to afford a hotel! Luckily, the people to the West were friendly enough to let him stay in the barn or something like that...
"Glad you're having such a good time, Al."
"Yeah, it's been a lot of fun! So... what's this case about? All Mustang could tell me over the telegraph is that there are murders going on around Resembool."
Ed took out the dossier and stared at the infernal information. Seven victims, ranging from ages of six to seventy-five, male and female, over an eighteen month time span, all within the single geographic range of Vintengard Valley. Unfortunately, the Vintengard Valley also happened to let out right at East City, where victim number 3 had been found. Their entire populace would be under scrutiny.
"Al, it looks like we've got someone trying to make another Philosopher's Stone," Ed confessed with much gravity. There was silence on the other end as the younger Elric brother processed this information.
"Are you absolutely sure? Is that why Mustang asked us to look into it? Why not Marcoh?" Al asked.
"The military doesn't want to touch this one, not after all the stuff that went on last year," Ed stated. "I honestly can't blame them, considering the government just got back up on its feet, but this is ridiculous. Mustang knows we're capable, and we don't have ties to the military anymore. We can get something done, and he doesn't have to put his neck on the political suicide chopping block, the little-"
"Ed, you know that Mustang helped us achieve our goal by being smart enough not to put his neck on the chopping block," Al reasoned, and Edward sighed, staring at the receiver.
"I hate it when you make sense."
There was a knock on the door, and Ed looked up in surprise.
"Hang on, Al, I've got company."
"Alright, brother. I should see you in about a day or two, if the trains run on time. I'll see you!"
"I love you, Al."
There was a pause on the other end, and Ed realized just how little he ever uttered those words to... well, anybody.
"I love you, too, brother. Now go answer the door before it gets busted down."
Ed smiled and hung up.
Odd. I didn't order room service. Maybe they want to serve the famous Hero of the People themselves or something. That'd be a nice change.
He opened the door, only to have a rather small woman of Ishvalan descent barge in with her suitcases.
"Wh-what are you doing?! You can't just waltz in like that!"
The woman stared at him, her curly, coarse hair parted neatly to the side and flowing over her shoulders. Her red eyes seemed to twinkle merrily as she smiled, but that wasn't the most striking part of her face. What was striking was that about half of her face was disfigured and discolored, slightly wrinkled and tight like an old burn.
"You must be Mr. Elric! Hello, there, I'm Isitanefer Rasheed, but you can call me Nef, nice to meet you. This is kind of a crappy hotel for a former State Alchemist, y'know. I kinda figured you'd be loaded," she said, suddenly grabbing one of his hands and shaking it, despite Ed's obvious distaste and deadweight hand. She ignored his dour expression to sit on his bed and stretch, yawning wide.
"Well, it's been a long day. You know how long it took me to track you down?" she asked, crossing her arms and pouting a little. Ed gaped at her.
"Y-you're the tail?! You're the Iron Fist?!" he shouted incredulously. She smiled widely.
"In the flesh!" she stated, holding up a single fist.
It was only then that Ed noticed the metal plated glove she wore that extended from her fingers all the way to up her elbow. From the little skin between the gloves and shirt, he could see wrinkled, disfigured skin. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking off with a disgruntled expression.
"I'm not taking a bodyguard."
"Na-ah-ah, I'm stuck to you like glue. You're not going anywhere without me. You won't even be able to crap without me knowing," the Ishvalan said imperiously, seating herself on the floor. Ed stared down at her rather incredulously, his face blank. Ed rolled his eyes, deciding he'd just have to fight it out with Mustang tomorrow. He was much too tired to deal with this sort of thing.
"You're sleeping over there," he said, pointing to the couch.
She gaped, staring at him. She spluttered for a minute, "S-seriously!? You'll let me stay?!"
"Yeah, yeah, just keep to your side of the room. I'm not done with you yet."
"Hey, as long as you don't throw me out the window. I had that happen on my last mission."