Full Metal Baseball

Team A was only called such because there were eleven members and not a single two could agree on any single thing. Umpire Armstrong eyed them beadily, drawing himself up for yet another Awe Inspiring Speech.

"What!" he bellowed, "no team name? Why, never in all my life have I heard of a more appalling travesty against sports and team spirit! Have you no pride in yourselves? If you are to succeed at anything, you must have the ultimate unity and strength. It will be a well of power and love, binding you for eternity! For fourteen generations, my great family has passed down the tradition…" His speech trailed into a garble of exclamations and poses as Team A stopped listening altogether and began muttering amongst itself.

"Please," moaned Dorochet to Greed, who was meticulously inspecting his clawed fingers, "do something! I don't care what our team name is. Just make him stop twitching his muscles at us like that."

Greed twitched an eyebrow disinterestedly. "Eh, I don't care either. Make someone like Lust decide. She seems to know what's going on most of the time." He picked at an imaginary speck on his immaculate black shield.

"Is it my imagination, or is he emanating pink sparkles?" Martyl looked vaguely fascinated and worried at the same time.

"Fine!" Envy had finally taken all of the Armstrong family's history that he could. "Our team name is now Hoenheim and the Elrics Suck, but only because 'Hoenheim and the Elrics are pockmarks on the face of Existence' seems a bit long." He grinned triumphantly as his teammates stared at him in a mix of exasperation, relief, and an utter loss of anything better.

"Too late!" Armstrong struck a dramatic pose and finished scribbling at the sheaf of paper on his clipboard. "I have chosen the team name Defenders of Purity and it is already down in ink. It would be heresy to change it now." He adopted a tragic façade and prepared to write again. "Now, my children, may I have the names of your players?"

"Defenders of Purity?" Envy stared at Armstrong in disbelief. "First off, you do realize that not a one of us, except maybe Angst-Boy over there," he prodded an elbow in Scar's direction, "even knows what purity is. Not to mention, I'm willing to bet that I'm a good three hundred and fifty years older than you…" His seething didn't reach Armstrong, however, as he was receiving the team roster from a disgruntled but resigned looking Lyla, their acting coach.

"Gluttony, Lust, Envy, Wrath, Pride, Greed, Sloth, Dorochet, Law, Martyl, and…" She trailed her finger down the list dubiously, "Scar. But I think we might keep him on the bench. He said something about only joining for the opportunity to kill the State Alchemists. He also brought a large rock attached to a chain. I haven't gotten around to asking what that's supposed to be for…"

"Glorious!" Armstrong sparkled exuberantly at Lyla, who looked ready to run, "An even match!" He seemed not to have heard her last few sentences and scribbled the last names down with a flair of his gigantic, muscle-bound, sparkle-emanating wrist. "Well, then unless you have anything else to add, I shall be off to obtain the other teams information. You shall be playing outfield to start. May the best team win!" He struck a misty-eyed pose and sparkled so violently that Wrath jumped at one of the lower ones, thinking it was a Red Stone, and when it wasn't became so distraught that he accidentally alchemized himself to the nearby First Base.

Armstrong didn't even notice the pandemonium that quickly ensued, and strode off toward where Izumi stood amid a crowd that looked only slightly more organized than the newly christened Defenders of Purity.

The noise was escalating to something near a dull roar, and it soon became apparent that they were about decisive in naming themselves as what had once been Team A.

"Team Elisia! There would be no way we could possibly lose with a name as awe-inspiring and beautiful as that!" Hughes was waving a handful of snapshots at no one in particular, since that was also the extent of his audience.

"Since I am the top-ranking officer here, I declare us the Flaming Mustangs," Roy was saying loudly, narrowly eyeing all of his immediate subordinates, and also anyone within incinerating range.

Ed glared at him mutinously. "How could we even take ourselves seriously with a name like that?"-

He was cut off by Mustang who glared down at him. "The team should be named by someone tall enough to be seen from the pitcher's mound"-

He was drowned out by a stream of expletives and threats from Ed, now being forcibly restrained by Al and Winry as Havoc looked on in mild interest. "How dare you! Let me go, Al! I'll show him to call me so short that a pitcher with a navigational telescope and map would be able to see!" Al hung on tighter and looked increasingly more and more nervous.

"Now, now!" Armstrong flung himself into the fray with a statuesque series of arm-movements similar to that witnessed by the Defenders of Purity. "Young people these days… So much discord! You will never learn to lead happy, inspiring lives if you continue like this! I will choose a team name for you that shall tell of your earth-shaking devotion to each other and your cause…" No one was paying attention, so he twirled around for emphasis before throwing himself into a violent flex, the jacket of his uniform disintegrating in a cloud of blue tatters among the sparkle. Dead quiet reigned.

"Now then," he pulled his clipboard from a pants pocket and tapped it with the pen contemplatively, "You shall now be known as the Banishers of Dissent."

Even Izumi stared. Armstrong took the thundering silence to be one of awed approval scratched importantly at his papers.

Still in Al's grip, Ed sagged. "Never mind, Colonel, I think Flaming Mustangs is a fine name."

However, Armstrong had already moved on to interrogating Izumi about the roster. She shuffled her own highly organized clipboard, chewing on the end of a pencil. "Lets see… Mustang, Havoc, Breda, Farman, Fury, Hawkeye, Hughes, Scheiska, Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric, and Alphonse Elric…"

"Wonderful!" Armstrong shuffled papers, beaming at Izumi, who twitched involuntarily. "We shall begin in five minutes! Please assemble a lineup, you will be batting to begin. Any questions? Good!" He turned and barreled off toward the commentator box where Ross was overseeing Denny, who looked at his wit's end, surrounded by a tangle of audio equipment.

Meanwhile, in the outfield, Lyla was attempting to assign positions. She had so far succeeded in placing Sloth at catcher, Envy at third, and Gluttony at shortstop. She couldn't see the point of the position, but she figured that Gluttony would provide a decent distraction to anyone trying to get from second to third, where Envy was scuffing up a small dust cloud and, between each scuff, changing his appearance to look like the members of the opposing team.

She looked over the remaining members of the team, pondering. "Alright. Greed, you take pitcher. Wrath, take first because I don't want to think about what you'd do if I left you unsupervised in the dugout. Lust, take second and keep an eye on him and Gluttony. Dorochet, Law, and Martyl, you three can have the outfield." Dorochet put his hand up. "What?"

"Why do we have four outfielders?" He pointed to Scar, who was somewhere near midfield, fiddling with the chains on his rock and glaring toward the Alchemist's team.

"I didn't put him there." Lyla sighed deeply, and then yelled toward the figure of culminating angst standing several yards behind second, "Scar! You're subbing out this inning! Take your rock and get in the dugout! Now!"

If anything, Scar's aura of brooding intensified, but other than that there was no evidence he had heard her.

Law grunted. "I'll sub out. I don't really know much about sports, anyway. That is, if its okay with Greed-sama?"

Greed stopped preening long enough to look up. "What? Someone say something?" Lyla sighed again, but also looked a bit relieved.

"Fine. Law, Pride, you two go sit in the dugout. Martyl can take right field, Dorochet can have left, and we'll all just pretend that Scar has some vague idea of what's going on."

There were various mutters of assent as the members of the team headed to their respective positions.

Behind first, after a surprising lack of chaos, the Banishers of Dissent had agreed on a lineup. Roy was holding the bat, looking vaguely ponderous and heroic, but somehow also managing to make eyes at Sloth.

Sloth, in turn, had refused the usual catcher's padding and helmet, and was standing placidly in position. It was anyone's guess as to whether or not she noticed Roy.

Armstrong walked out to the pitcher's mound, where Greed was polishing his sunglasses with concentration worthy of brain surgery. This intensified even further with the alchemist's approach and Greed was nearly knocked over backwards as Armstrong thrust the ball at him, beaming shinily. Greed leered back and took the ball, looking at it curiously.

"Throw it in that direction, please, " muttered Lyla disparagingly in passing on her way to the dugout. Greed poked at it curiously.

Several seconds later, Armstrong's booming voice echoed over the field. "Play ball!"

Greed gave the ball one last dubious look before turning a glittering grin on Roy, and then flung it. The pitch wasn't exactly expert, but it had the effect Greed wanted, catching Roy slightly off guard. It still connected, however, and the ball hurtled off toward outfield. The bat was not so lucky; in Roy's surprise, it had ignited and now it was quickly becoming a stick of charcoal as Roy headed toward first. Izumi gave it one of her high-intensity glares and it collapsed into a heap of charred briquettes in the dust.