A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand here's another chapter of the brand new, super-popular…. Not. Oh well. Anyway, here it is. Be warned that I definitely am not a frequent updater. I hope I make it up by my writing… but it may be too much to hope for.
Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1 A/N
Sighting
Amestrian-Russian Border, Eastern Europe
A general description of a desert is a dry, dusty, and generally inhabitable area. The Russian ice-fields fitted the criteria perfectly. Its windblown plains were freezing cold, and definitely not suitable for fairy residents.
There were, however, five hundred and three fairies of all species in this desert.
The leader happened to be the celebrated Major Forrest Juniper, one of the few females that got past Traffic and started to climb the ladder of LEP ranks. At least, it used to be LEP. All the police forces became twisted into an army, with Commander Trouble Kelp in charge of the now militaristic LEP. Even though it was an army instead of a police force, the Council had decided to keep the acronyms. And the ranks.
It had to be noted that Major General Juniper was extremely successful when it came to field work. Part of the reason was due to her belief that discipline, italicised, bolded, and captalised, was the only, one and only way to raise an army. Her squadron was made up of two commanders, five majors, ten captains, their ten vice-captains, and four hundred and seventy five corporals- all slapped, punched, kicked, and generally bullied into living by the motto of discipline in all caps, usually by Juniper herself. Those who survived the Romanesque training became just like Forrest Juniper herself- a tough, highly skilled, and street smart killing machine.
So, for her troops, it was no cause for alarm when cannons, bullets, and heavy artillery of all descriptions started flying towards their general direction. Without a single word from the leader, all five hundred or so fairies shielded and hovered to study the situation and the source of the shooting. This was easy, as there were shouts of, "Bloody Dracmans! Stay away from the border!" coming from ahead.
Juniper did not know what a Dracman was, and nor did she want to find out. Still, she swooped closer, on the risk of her wing rig falling apart in the gale, and studied the large grey… Fort? Wall?
Through her helmet visor(and quite a bit of the zoom function), she could see a woman clad in navy, perched on the highest point of the fort and yelling instructions to the soldiers at the foot of the fort, scanning the snowy fields for all traces of the 'Dracmans'. Her sword was visibly sheathed and tied to her waist, made more noticeable by her gloved fingers, which were hovering just above the hilt. Her long blond hair swirled around her in the frigid wind, revealing a pair of determined eyes, and a strong jaw set in a scowl. Juniper recognized the expression. It often featured on her own face.
"Boys, retreat!" she yelled, and studied her opponent once more before turning around and flying back.
Yes, she had certainly met her match.
A/N: It's really quite obvious as to who the woman in blue is. If you don't know her, either read up on FMA, or better yet, read the next chapter(when it's out). Also, I assure you that Juniper will not play a big part in the story. She's just... you know.