Please note, I have never professed to be an expert on World War II. My limited knowledge of this battle comes from Wikipedia.
Italics will indicate flashbacks. I realize that this story is starting out a little dark. I promise to lighten the mood soon, but first I have to give some background information.
Chapter Two: Prisoners of War
Obersoldat Elric shivered and bundled his coat tighter as he trudged through the outskirts of the ruined city of Stalingrad. December certainly was not the best time to visit the Soviet Union, but then Herr Fuhrer never asked for his opinion.
Edward saluted a passing officer as he approached his destination, the field hospital. Edward shivered again and this time it was with dread not the wind. His best friend had been wounded in combat three weeks ago. The wound had not been terribly severe, but infection had since dug in. The doctors' estimations were not optimistic.
Edward scurried sideways as a team of field medics rushed into the tent with a wounded officer. Edward quickly followed the team to the security checkpoint; the sentries were so busy guiding the medical team that they scarcely registered Edward's arrival. He stepped into the tent and nearly gagged as the smell of disinfectants cloyed with the stench of the dead and dying. Death was nothing unfamiliar to the young alchemist, but it's something that you never quite get used to.
Recovering his composure, Ed maneuvered his way to a small bed in the back corner of the tent. His heart sank as he spotted his closest friend, Maes Hughes. The man was a shadow of his former self. He was pale as a ghost; his eyes had lost their natural luster; and he'd lost more weight than he could afford to lose. Maes's breathing appeared shallow and he barely opened his eyes as he sensed Edward's arrival.
Maes nodded to Edward, "Thanks for coming. I know how much you loathe hospitals."
"Anything for you, old friend. What can I do for you? Something edible perhaps?" Edward asked, nodding to a tray next to Maes's bed. It appeared to be untouched and contained some jelly-like substance; Ed wasn't sure if it had originally been jell-o or meat.
"No sense in wasting good food on the dying?" Maes laughed at his own feeble attempt at humor, but it came out more like a cough.
"You'll be out of here in no time, you'll see," Edward said with all of the false cheer he could muster.
"I know you mean well Ed, but let's get serious here for a minute. Do you honestly believe all those stories you told me?" Maes asked in hushed tones.
Within seconds of arriving in the fifth floor apartment, Major Tringham realized his mistake. A pair of dusty worn boots sat nestled near the exterior door, signifying the presence of another occupant. Behind him, the young princess let out a quiet squeak.
"Don't think, don't move, don't even breathe," warned a strange masculine voice.
Major Tringham's mind reeled. His plan should have been perfect. He'd set up arrays on each stairwell landing. They were designed to activate when his enemies passed them. At which time, the intruders would get a face full of plant spores. He'd blocked the apartment's entrance with one of his most dangerous plants and set up a decoy escape route. There was no way that their enemy should have been able to anticipate his actions. He had told no one, not even his team, about his traps or true escape route. Fletcher's mind quickly worked through dozens of plans, trying to come up with a viable solution when his thoughts were abruptly interrupted.
"What the—"
Crash! Tink, tink, tink… "Woomph," exhaled the strange man as he slumped to the floor unconscious.
Fuery removed a pair of handcuffs from his bags and moved to secure the prisoner as Fletcher went to check on Princess May. The young alchemist was pleasantly surprised to find the young woman unharmed and wearing an amused smirk.
"Princess?" Fletcher asked at a loss for words.
"What? I've been dealing with assassination attempts since before I can remember. I finally begged my mother and some of the bodyguards—"she stopped and her smile dropped. She remembered the men and women who had sacrificed themselves earlier in the week when the news of the emperor's passing first arrived in Central.
"It's alright Princess; I understand," Fletcher replied and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I had better check the rest of the apartment."
The young major moved to continue his search of the adjoining rooms. He found a small kitchen, a bathroom, and was about to enter the second bedroom when Fuery's voice shocked him. "Holy fucking shit!"
Fletcher could hardly believe it; he had never heard the quiet man swear before. In fact, Fletcher thought the good-natured warrant officer was incapable of it. "Mr. Fuery? Is everything okay in there?"
Fuery's voice sounded shaken and strained, "We're fine sir. Finish your search and return quickly please."
Fletcher pushed open the last door and found a single mattress with a small figure nestled under thick blankets. He drew his sidearm and silently approached the bed. When the figure did not move, Fletcher used one hand to hold his gun and the other to remove the blankets. There was no response from the man on the bed. Seeing no weapons, Fletcher checked for a pulse and breathing. Satisfied that the man was alive, Fletcher tried to shake him awake, but to no avail.
In the dim moonlight, Fletcher could see the man had lean muscles, but was a little too thin. His short blonde hair was dirty and unkempt and there was an assortment of bruises and abrasions visible on his tanned skin.
Fletcher moved back to rejoin Fuery and May. "There's an unconscious man in the second bedroom. Now, what's the matter here?"
Fuery pulled a length of rope from his bag and pointed to their assailant. "That man looks exactly like Brigadier General Hughes."
The name sounded familiar and Fletcher searched his memories for a moment. There was only one General Hughes that he could think of. Confused he asked, "Your friend who died almost ten years ago?"
"You need a sacrifice to make it work, right?" Maes asked.
"Don't be stupid Maes," Edward whispered angrily. "You're going to be fine. They're just stories. Parallel worlds, doppelgangers…Ha! You actually believed all that?"
"Don't lie to me Edward. We've known each other long enough for me to know when you're bluffing," Maes cautioned.
Ed scoffed, "I can still kick your ass at poker, Old Man."
Maes chuckled but it came out more like a cough. "Ed seriously, I'm not getting any better. Tonight, maybe tomorrow, I'll be gone and what will I have accomplished? Death for the glory of the Third Reich? This war is senseless and you and I both know it."
"It's not just that Maes. If I fail, I'll be tried and sent before a firing squad for witchcraft or some crazy bullshit," Ed whispered.
"We're all dead men, Edward," Maes whispered back. "Face the facts, the Soviet Union is winning this fight. Infection, firing squad, battle, pneumonia…Dead is dead."
Ed looked back at his friend with moist tear filled eyes, "Maes, I don't think I can do it."
"You have to Ed. You have friends and family waiting for you. Please, let my death mean something."
Fletcher tied up the second man as Fuery inspected their belongings. The warrant officer let out a low whistle and Fletcher turned to see what he'd found. Fuery spread two foreign uniforms and an assortment of firearms onto the floor. "Wow!" was all Fletcher could say.
"I'm going out to see if the others have secured the building yet. Guard the princess until I return," Fuery responded and left.
"So princess, what else do you know how to do?" Fletcher asked good-naturedly.
The young girl simply smiled.
Edward openly wept as he put the finishing touches on the transmutation circle. The circle needed to be about ten feet in diameter. Consequently, he and Hughes were in the basement of an abandoned home. "Maes, are you absolutely certain that you want to do this? There's no going back once the array is activated."
Maes rolled his eyes, "Ed, that's only the hundredth time you've asked me that. My answer is still the same. Now if it's finished, help me into the circle."
Ed checked the circle against his notes one final time before assisting Maes into the center of the array. "Thank you Maes—for everything. I'll never forget you."
Maes hugged Ed one last time, "You can thank me by returning home safely."
He blinked tears from his eyes and took a deep cleansing breath as he put his hands on the array. Edward barely had time to register the familiar blue light as pure energy coursed through his body and he passed out.
Breda, Havoc, and Hawkeye stared at the man resembling Maes Hughes. Hawkeye kept walking around the prisoner, inspecting him from every angle. Havoc actually went as far as to tug on the man's ears as if he was expecting a mask.
"I told you," Fuery said smugly.
"It's impossible," Breda answered. "I was a part of the investigation. I saw his corpse!"
"We were all there for the funeral," Hawkeye replied matter-of-factly. "We all saw the body. It has to be a homunculus."
Behind them, Fletcher cleared his throat. "I know I'm new here, but I've done my research. Homunculi are extremely hard to take down, correct?" Riza nodded and Fletcher continued, "Princess May took this one out by throwing it against the wall."
Havoc openly gaped and the rest of the team stared at May with a new appreciation. "Perhaps it's not a homunculus then. You said that there were two prisoners?" Hawkeye asked.
"There's another in the second bedroom. He's unconscious, but I tied his hands and feet to be safe," Fletcher answered.
"Very good, Major," Riza answered. "Havoc, check it out."
Edward awoke next to Maes's dead body in a familiar white room. The gate loomed ominously in front of him and a dark shadowy figure sat cross-legged in front of it. Ed took a moment to close his deceased friend's eyes before moving to confront Truth.
"You never learn, do you? Most alchemists don't survive their first encounter with the Gate, but you keep coming back. Well, what do you want this time? Shall I bring your friend back?" an impossibly large smile graced Truth's face.
Ed sighed, "I'm tired of your games. Just send me home."
Truth tilted its head a little to one side and considered the alchemist turned soldier. "Tired of giving up body parts, so you decided to use someone else's? You've gotten smarter, this should be sufficient payment."
The Gate opened wide and Edward braced himself as shadowy hands pulled him through the opening.
When Havoc rejoined the others he was pale and visibly shaken. The rest of the team watched as he pulled his cigarette pack out and sniffed it experimentally.
"Afraid someone laced your smokes?" Breda teased.
"Enough," said Hawkeye impatiently. "Report!"
Havoc looked back down the hall nervously. "It's the Chief."
"Who?" Fletcher asked.
"That's Havoc's personal nickname for Major Elric," Fuery explained.
Fletcher was even more confused now than before. "I thought Al was with the general…Wait? You don't mean…"
Havoc answered, "His hair's been cut short and he's much too skinny, but it's him alright. You didn't notice the automail?"
Fletcher was saved from mustering a defense by a quiet groan. Maes Hughes (or at least someone who looked like him) struggled to sit up. "Ugh. What hit me?" He looked up to find five strangers staring over him. Noting the strange uniforms, he asked "Did Ed's plan work? Is this Amestris?"
Hawkeye frowned. The way the stranger pronounced "Amestris" sounded all wrong, it came out sounding more like "Amos's Tits." This only served to confirm her suspicion that this was not in fact Maes Hughes. "Yes," she answered the strange man. "You're in Central. Now, who the hell are you?"
Truth stared at the body before him. Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that he stared at the soul lingering to the body.
"So, you don't know when to give up either?" Truth asked, not really expecting an answer.
Hughes didn't respond, but then who can blame him? He lacked a body and therefore a voice.
Truth smirked, "Perhaps there's still a way that I can mess with that pipsqueak."
With a single thought, Truth thrust Maes's soul back into his body and brought the man back to life.
"Thank you, I think. But why?" Maes croaked.
Truth smiled sadistically, "Save your thanks."
The Gate swung open again and Maes vanished.
XxxLine BreakxxX
Stalingrad, now Volgograd, is a city in southwestern Russia. The Battle of Stalingrad lasted from July 1942 to February 1943. The Germans did in fact lose. I also feel compelled to remind you that my major is math education, not history.
Please let me know what you think! No one has reviewed yet and I'm feeling very unloved.