Since they were, by the far majority, emergency reports from civilians, they were accorded the highest priority. That meant they went in the incoming "A" box, as the receptionists called it. Those were picked up around noon by the assistants, while the front staff was out at lunch. Where they went after that... well, no one was sure but the higher-ups, and they didn't do a lot of socializing with the receptionists unless they were looking for a date.
With that in mind, it was actually an incredible stroke of luck that the girl from the corner store had stood Jean Havoc up the night before. The front desks were usually a good place to go to stroke a wounded ego, so he'd snuck out of his desk the minute Colonel Mustang had turned his head.
"Hey hey, Roxanne!" Havoc leaned over the edge of the young woman's desk, putting on his best grin and hiding his cigarette. "What'd you do with your hair, it's gorgeous!"
"You think so?" she preened. "Well... I used a new shampoo..."
"Well, it must be some great stuff." Havoc flipped through the stack of papers by her phone. "Hey, this is our old jurisdiction... tell you what." He winked flirtatiously. "I take this up to the Colonel, so you can take off early for lunch, and I'll meet you at the commissary. Sound like a plan?"
"I'd love to!" Her eyes lit up. "Will your whole office be eating with you?"
Havoc picked up the papers, grinning happily. "No, I can probably tell them to shove off-"
"Oh, no, you don't have to! I've always wanted to meet Colonel Mustang face to face!" She waved after him. "I'll see you all at lunch! Thanks for the help, Mr. Havoc!"
It was really his own fault, really. He'd forgotten rule thirty-two: never, and that meant NEVER, mention Colonel Roy Mustang. Havoc sighed, then eyed the reports. Civil disturbance, civil disturbance, civil disturbance... more civil disturbance... from all over the old jurisdiction. East City, outskirts, Bord'wan, suburbs...
Havoc paused outside the door to Mustang's office, looking through a bit more carefully. They all were written to sound pretty much the same... and all had come in over the space of an hour. After a minute, he collected his thoughts and headed inside to the desk by the window with a businesslike stride.
"Sir, aren't the Elrics in Bord'wan?" he asked casually, dropping the reports on Mustang's desk.
"They're probably still there, yes." His superior eyed him with faint curiousity. "Why?"
"...You might want to look at those."
There was no newspaper waiting outside the inn door when Ed opened it in the morning. No newspaper, and no tea or coffee, or anything. Normally, that kind of thing wouldn't bother him at all, but he normally wouldn't be expecting it. And when people didn't meet Edward Elric's expectations, it really ruined the rest of his day. And everyone else's, if he could manage it.
"Didn't they promise breakfast, Al?" he demanded, slamming the heavy oak door and stomping back into the room. "Didn't that guy promise, isn't that why we paid extra?"
"I don't really remember, Brother." His brother's hollow voice was only faintly apologetic; he seemed pretty wrapped up in whatever book he'd picked up from the nightstand. "You could go complain at the front, if you think it'd do any good."
"You know what? I think I'll do that!" Ed turned on his heel and headed straight back out the door, ignoring the tinny sigh that drifted out after him.
If it wasn't enough of an insult that the "crimson elixir" that had drawn them out here was a complete and utter sham- just a weak, flawed version of the fake Philosopher's Stone they'd kept running into all along- now he was getting shafted by an old man who thought he could milk some money out of the military. He probably didn't even want their lousy watery tea, but he'd be damned if an innkeeper in some backwater town was going to make a fool of Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. No, he was going to get his money's worth if it was the death of him.
"Hey, I've got a bone t' pick with you, you no-good, cheating-"
The words echoed throughout an empty common room, caught up with the cool breeze that whistled through the open front door.
"Uneducated... rotten..."
There was no one there.
Ed paused for a moment, listening. No clanging from the kitchen. No steps in the back. No voices outside, or down the hallways. There were still uncleaned dishes on the tables, half-full mugs of mead glistening with condensation. Upended chairs littered the floor, like the entire population of the room had suddenly been moved to bolt out the front door.
And it seemed they hadn't come back.
"Hello?" Ed called cautiously, peering out the front door. Nothing. Not even a stray dog. He considered taking a few steps out, then made the rather level-headed decision (if he did say so himself) to go get his brother first. Not that he was scared or anything, but no one with half a brain took on a large-scale disappearance without keeping an eye on their trusty partner.
He made it up the stairs in record time, wishing about half-way up that he'd thought to shut the front door. "Al? Hey, you're never gonna guess what I just-"
"Something's wrong, Brother."
Ed fell silent, crossing the room to his brother's side. The hulking armor was motionless in front of the window, a gauntlet clutching the ratty curtains.
"What is it, Al...?"
"There's a body out there."
At first glance, it could easily have been mistaken for a few garbage bags. But Al was right- it was a body, a human form frozen in an unnatural v-shape, back apparently broken over a large trash can.
"What do you think happened...?" There was an audible tremble in Al's voice.
Ed bit his lower lip, forcing himself to look, to study the scene coolly. "It looks like... well, either something bent him like that, or... maybe he jumped. Jumped, from a few floors up, and hit wrong..."
"Look at that." Al was pointing. "That window's all smashed up... on the fourth floor. Above him. Do you think... he didn't open the window? But why?"
He could feel a cold lump in the bottom of his stomach, a knot twisting his throat. "Maybe he was running from something."
"We should tell someone, Brother." Al tugged on his sleeve, more than a little desperate. "Go tell someone, please."
Ed wrenched his eyes from the grisly scene, raising his eyes to Al's. "That's what I came up to tell you," he said bracingly. "There's... there's no one to tell."
"...What?"
"There's no one downstairs." Ed headed to the bed and picked up his bag, shoving in books and notes from the night before. "There's no one outside, either. There were even dishes and everything all over the place, like everyone just up and left while we were sleeping."
"But... but, Brother, that's not possible," Al said logically. "Where would they go? Why would they leave?"
"Don't ask me, pal." Ed handed Al the bag, who obligingly stashed it inside his breastplate. "Come on, let's get a move on."
"To the rail station? We need to report this to the Colonel, don't we?" Al followed at his heels.
"No, to town. We're gonna check this out so we have something to report." Ed grinned rakishly up at his brother.
"Brother... oh, fine, but wait for me!"
When other people were nervous, they headed home. When Edward Elric was nervous, he ran into the heart of the situation with automail sharpened and rampage in his eyes.
Only time would tell whose idea was the better one.