This is mostly for a good friend of mine, so there may be some (or many) moments where people are out of character. Bear with me, it'll be fun, I promise. Anyways, the general plot is just the inner goings-on at Central HQ, which consists of a ridiculously tangled web of affairs. ;3 Scandalooooooouuuuus!
Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with Fullmetal Alchemist (either the manga or the anime… s (counting Brotherhood)). If I did, this wouldn't be a fanfiction. Duh.
Zolf Kimblee was very dedicated to work. This was proven by the fact that, having absolutely no assignments, he was wandering aimlessly around Central Headquarters. There was nothing to do! Archer had given him a month of free time, to 'prep' for some big mission; probably to cause a bit more mayhem on Amestris's borders. Also, the man had insisted he be in 'top shape' for the mission. The alchemist scoffed. He'd been fixed up by that creepy doctor the higher-ups kept around for no apparent reason; after a boost from a Philosopher's Stone, he was perfectly fine! But nooooooooooo…! … Anyways…
It only took about half an hour of wandering the military building to discover something. A revelation, if you will. The military personnel in Central were very awkward human beings. Awkward… But perhaps interesting. Something to amuse himself with.
Major-Sorry, Colonel Flame was avidly avoiding his paperwork, but clearly admiring his Lieutenant, Miss Hawkeye, though she had a gun pointed in his direction as motivation to continue signing the ridiculously large pile of papers in front of him.
Armstrong was being his usual disturbingly happy self, but a double-take showed something far more interesting in the office of Colonel Frank Archer. An argument.
"You pompous creep! I'm not slaughtering innocent people like that- You have no right to send us out there to kill-!"
He didn't recognize her; someone new, perhaps? Incredibly opinionated. The argument seemed to be reaching its boiling point, and the Crimson Alchemist couldn't help but lean casually in the doorway and amuse himself with watching it.
"You'll do as you're ordered to, Lt. Marshall! You forget your position!"
"You just want the glory Roy got from Ishbal; let me tell you, Ishbal was hell! And it doesn't matter anyways; you'll never measure up to half the man Roy is! And- and you'll never be able to replace Brigadier General Hughes!" she snarled, stance proud.
Her mention of her deceased superior seemed to quell the flame in her eyes. She turned to Major Armstrong, a cynical, cruel smile on her face.
"And… I don't plan to work under Colonel Archer forever… Do you, Major? I'll climb my way to the top… clinging to Mustang's coattails if I have to. Good day, gentlemen."
Though her final mention of the Flame Alchemist was more formal, her previous burst of anger had given away how close she actually was to the man. Like one of his loyal subordinates. Lt. Marshall barely spared him a glance as she strode out of the room, head held high.
"Interesting woman," Kimblee commented.
Archer let out an aggravated sigh and the Crimson Alchemist smirked. Yes, maybe this time off would be amusing after all…
"… I'm going to see the Fuhrer," Archer said finally, voice still strained with anger.
He said nothing further, storming out of the room, and Kimblee shrugged, dropping into one of the chairs in the room. Idly, he picked up a pen, wondering exactly what his probably-OCD superior would do if he blew it up.
Luckily for the Crimson Alchemist, he was missing something outside the Fuhrer's office that would have disturbed even him. Archer had, though without any particular reason to see the man, followed his statement and ended up outside King Bradley's office. His secretary, a young redhead looked utterly bored out of her mind.
"Miss Dawson," came Bradley's voice suddenly over the intercom at her desk. "I'm feeling a bit thirsty; would you send in some tea?"
With a small shrug, the woman stood, but Archer moved to stop her.
"… I'll get it," the pale man insisted.
Alice Dawson blinked twice, taking the moment to comprehend what he'd just said. A high-ranking officer lowering himself to the level of 'Fuhrer's gopher'? She sighed, rolling her eyes and nodded, sitting back down at her desk.
Off went the Colonel, to get tea for the Fuhrer. He succeeded in this mission easily, of course, merely brewing some in the break room on the second floor of Central Headquarters. And then, he started back to Bradley's office. That's where things got complicated.
"… Why are you carrying that tray of tea?"
Archer stopped abruptly, turning to look at General Hakuro.
"It's… For the Fuhrer," he admitted hesitantly, but looked ready to continue on his way.
"You're bringing him his tea?"
Now, Hakuro wasn't one to be outdone, especially not by a lower-ranking officer.
"… Don't worry about it, Colonel, I'm sure you have plenty of things to do. I'll just take this the rest of the way," he suggested generously.
"I've got it fine," the pale man insisted, eyes cold and somewhat overly menacing, considering the frivolousness of the situation.
"Have you?" Hakuro sneered.
Colonel Archer stuck up his nose snobbishly and continued on his way. General Hakuro raced after him, but being older and also slightly more… Rotund… Didn't help his cause, and he was still a few steps behind Archer when they reached the room where poor Alice Dawson sat, carefree, at her desk.
The peculiar fight caught her attention immediately, and she stopped scribbling on a random piece of paperwork to watch, dumbstruck.
"I'll give it to him!" Archer insisted shrilly.
"You? Ha! I bet you can't even brew tea right!" Hakuro returned.
They continued to bicker, saying many more things of a similar nature. It soon came to blows, though Archer had the sense to place the tray down on Alice's desk so it wouldn't spill and render the battle completely useless. After a few minutes of staring at the two grown men wrestling over a tea tray, Alice had had more than enough; her eyes couldn't handle much more. Swiftly grabbing the tray, she knocked sharply on Bradley's office door.
"Alice? Is that my tea?" King Bradley asked pleasantly, apparently not hearing the commotion outside his doors.
The redhead said nothing and simply walked in, tea tray in her hands.
"Your tea, sir," she stated unnecessarily, placing the silver tray on his desk.
Then she settled herself in one of the chairs in front of his desk and watched him pour the tea. He began to take his first sip, but then paused, looking at his secretary oddly.
"… You're dismissed, Miss Dawson; you don't have to stay in here."
"I know, sir," Alice said dryly. "I'm afraid, though, if I had to watch the commotion outside any longer I might become absent from my duties for a very, very long time."
Unperturbed, Bradley poured another cup of tea and handed it to his secretary.
"Thank you, sir," she mumbled, startled at the show of kindness.
"Well, I can't lose another secretary can I? Why, just this month, we've lost two. It would be a shame."
Alice nodded in agreement, sipping her own cup of tea. They stayed there contentedly, ignoring the next half hour of tussling outside the door. Thankfully, after that time, the men had worn themselves out and realized that the tea was no longer where they'd left it. Seeing Miss Dawson missing as well, they figured out that she'd taken it in to the Fuhrer herself. Dejectedly, both men trudged back to their offices.
When the door slammed open, Armstrong jumped. Kimblee just remained where he sat, though observing the crestfallen expression on his superior's face. Especially uncharacteristic, considering Archer's temperament. Of course, no one would know what to make of the man's behavior unless they'd actually witnessed the incident. With a huge sigh, Archer slumped into his chair, and abruptly laid his head on his desk, sobbing loudly. Kimblee didn't ask.
