Disclaimer: I do not own, in this or any subsequent chapters, the intellectual property of Fullmetal Alchemist. Only the plot of this story is mine.
Beta: the wonderful minmax300
The widely-famed and infamous East v. North training exercises were due to begin in two days. Naturally, the competitive spirit was roaring throughout Eastern Command, each soldier boasting about his or her skills. It didn't matter that the East frequently lost; the exercises were usually held in the North, and those unaccustomed to the frozen terrain were at a serious disadvantage. This time, the East would be fighting on its own turf. So that the affair was a little more balanced, it had been announced that the event would take place in the dense, remote forest that lay roughly forty miles from the command center.
General Grumman had announced these details with his trademark smile, which he would undoubtedly wear as he watched the progress of the competition from the comfort of his office. To his surprise, no one seemed angered at the theme that had been chosen; the soldiers will be broken into small groups and will participate in a guerilla warfare scenario. They will use special guns which shot out balls of paint rather than rubber bullets. These would be both easier to track and less painful than the alternative. If struck in one of five marked, crucial areas, the soldier would need to lift his weapon in the air and walk to the edge of the forest in defeat. He then was to step over the vibrant tape which marked the edge of the simulated combat zone. His "death" would be reported to one of the officers tasked with scorekeeping.
Colonel Roy Mustang was thrilled. His carefully selected team was perfect for such a scenario. His tech ops genius, his strategist, his black ops agent, his information source, and his sniper were so well suited to the task that it almost seemed a bit unfair. Almost. More importantly, he had a good chance to put General Olivier Mira Armstrong in her place for once. After many frustrating years of struggling to use his alchemy in the snow, he felt that she had come to underestimate him. This year, he would prove her wrong. Crushing her soldiers was just an added bonus.
"All right, listen up!" He boomed, standing up from his desk. Each of his soldiers snapped into a salute before him. "Fuery, you're going to be our scout. Anything is fair game as long as it fits in the packs they give us. Round up bugs, radios, whatever you think will be useful. Falman, you're my go-to. Knowledge about plants, water sources, weather signs, we need anything you can get in your head. We have to survive out there. Who knows how long this thing will last, and rations only go so far."
As the two lowest-ranking officers hurried out of the office to perform their tasks, Roy's eyes settled on his final three subordinates. "Breda, you're my strategist. I need everything on guerrilla warfare that you've got. If we're going to make it through the entire exercise, we have to be the best-informed group. Havoc, your experience in black-ops is crucial. I need you to be versatile. I may need you in a tree with a rifle, and the next second on the ground with a pistol. Keep hidden, keep quiet, and don't let anyone get by us. The same goes for you, Hawkeye. Just do what you do best."
"Yes, sir!" the three lieutenants chorused.
"Good. Now go grab your packs from the requisitions office. All five of you are to take tomorrow to pack your bag. Remember, the essentials come first. Sleeping bag strapped on, first aid kits stowed away… you all know the drill" he assumed.
"Um, sir?" Fuery interjected, stopping his search for equipment in his desk drawers. "I don't own a sleeping bag."
"Don't worry about it, kid." Havoc gave him a slap on the back. "You can get everything you need from requisitions. They're gonna be handing that crap out like candy. Old man Grumman wants this win so bad it's scary."