Same warnings as the previous chapters, with the addition of major character death and graphic scenes (though no more than what we've seen in the series).

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Chapter 2: Fear

He wasn't dead.

Hossler couldn't believe it.

But the situation he found himself in wasn't much better than dead. He was in a basement, complete with cold stone walls and lack of windows. Hossler shifted, tugging at the ropes around his wrists and ankles. His ankles were then tied to a ring on the floor. At least the cut on his head had stopped bleeding at some point.

It was dark, with the only light coming in from the crack under the door. Hossler shifted, trying to get comfortable against the wall. He could barely remember anything from before. Just a lot of screaming and panic and then Fullmetal had tried to get him to jump out a window-

Something scraped along the floor and Hossler jerked up. It was then he finally noticed the shape across from him.

"It's me, calm down."

Hossler squinted. "Fullmetal?" he asked. A grunt of agreement was his response. Even in the dim light, he could pick out the glint of metal- the other man was tied like he was, except with chains.

They didn't get much further. The door slammed open and a trio of Drachmans swept into the room. The light was almost blinding and Hossler looked away. They completely ignored Hossler, instead clustering around Fullmetal. The three of them started speaking, all in Drachman. Their accents were too thick and they spoke too quickly for Hossler to follow, but their tone spoke volumes. They were gloating, rubbing their victory in their captive's face. Fullmetal listened in silence, and Hossler could catch glimpses between the legs of the Drachmans, glaring hard enough to melt rock.

The exchange continued for several minutes before one of the Drachmans barked out a laugh. The three of them then turned on their heels and left, slamming the door behind them. It went dark again.

"They're going to kill us." It wasn't a question at this point.

"No."

Hossler frowned. "Torture?" He'd heard stories about that.

Fullmetal shook his head. "They're not going to kill you."

"Me? But what about you?" The silence that followed was all the answer he needed. Hossler attempted to scoot closer, but he only managed about a foot before the rope stopped him. "No, it can't just be me!" he shouted. The situation was finally starting to become real and true panic was starting to set in. "They can't kill you, you're Edward Elric! There'll be riots all over Amestris!"

But maybe that was what Drachma wanted. They were a war economy, plagued by a food shortage. Amestris- and President Mustang particularly- had been stubbornly refusing to rise to any bait Drachma had thrown. Kidnappings, border attacks, and the like had all been dealt with politically in an attempt to keep things peaceful. So now the Drachmans were going all in and giving Amestris something they could no longer ignore.

"You're the example. They're sending you back to Briggs afterwards."

Hossler didn't need to ask after what exactly.

The rest of the night (at least he assumed it was nighttime) was passed in silence. They tried getting out of their bonds, but they were out of luck. Hossler tried to not think about what was coming; he was not very successful. And judging from the occasional angry curse, Fullmetal wasn't doing much better.

When the Drachmans returned, the two captives were unhooked from the floor and hauled to their feet. Everything was stiff and Hossler stumbled up the steps, barely able to feel his feet. Fullmetal wasn't fairing much better.

The Drachmans pulled them outside, into the freezing cold. They were still in the main government complex, and were headed towards the front steps on the czar's palace. A mob of soldiers had congregated at the base of the stairs, clapping and shouting as the captives neared.

In front of him, Fullmetal dug his heels in and turned as much as he could toward Hossler. "Don't let them go to war over this."

Hossler stared, almost tripping over a rock in his path. "What?" he gasped. "You can't be serious! This breaks half a dozen treaties and accords!" Never mind the fact that Drachma was about to publicly execute a national icon.

Fullmetal cursed as the Drachmans practically pulled him off his feet in their haste. "It's not worth it! Amestris can't go back to a war state!" And then he was gone, staggering up the steps of the Drachman capitol building.

Hossler was dragged to the bottom, where they forced him to his knees, with a gun at his back. He still couldn't believe this. He was just an intern- he was supposed to file papers and cross-reference treaties and bring coffee. Not this! He hadn't even been originally picked to come, but the two others ahead of him had been relieved- one was sick and the other had a newborn. So here he was, a captive of Drachma, stuck between the teeming throng of soldiers and their leader.

Fullmetal had been pulled up to a makeshift platform that had, undoubtedly, been set up just for the occasion. There was a brief struggle between Fullmetal and his guards before they managed to wrestle him down to his knees and, once again, chain him down. One of the soldiers, Hossler noted, came away with a bloody nose.

The cheering from the soldiers escalated, and Hossler turned in time to see the czar himself climbing the stairs. He stopped next to Fullmetal and immediately launched into a speech. The soldiers responded accordingly, yelling, clapping, and stomping their feet in approval. It was a damned rally, and Hossler swallowed down the urge to vomit. Instead, he locked onto Fullmetal, trying to ignore the gun digging into his back and the roars of the soldiers.

Their eyes made contact for a split second before the czar grabbed a fistful of Fullmetal's hair, yanked his head back, and stabbed him straight through the throat.

Hossler screamed and made to get up. To do what, he had no idea, but the Drachmans forced him back down, a gun pressed down into his shoulder. On the platform, Fullmetal slumped forward and the czar pushed him close enough to the edge that his head and shoulders hung off the edge.

They kept him there, choking on his own horrified sobs until Fullmetal's blood trickled down the stairs, into the snow, and began to soak into his pants. The soldiers were cheering, half of them chanting something in Drachman as the czar made a show of handing off his bloody sword to one of his generals. They were probably going to display it, Hossler realized with a horrified detachment. A relic of a proud Drachman victory, a deadly blow against their southern enemies.

Off to the side, someone was even taking pictures.