"A-a flare?" Miles stammered, stumbling back a step. He instinctively raised his pistol to the supposed location of where the flare had been fired, "Surely the guys on top of the wall would've seen that?"

"I don't know," Olivier replied, already beginning to split. "And we're not staying long enough to find out what that flare was for. It was red; there's no way that's a good sign."

Her adjutant quickly stumbled along after her, trying to keep up, "R-right, yes sir."

The two quickly made their way back Into the walls of the fort, slamming the door shut behind them. The general immediately called over a nearby soldier, harshly ordering him to sound an alarm and to rally the others. Nodding hastily, the young guard hurried off to do as he was told.

Another soldier cowered, huddled against the wall. This was what he had trained for, but so soon after he graduated the academy…?

The general snatched up the furred collar of his coat, pulling him out of his daze so that she could look him in the eye. Her cold, blue eyes met with pure fear, "Snap out of it!"

The icy orbs glanced down at his shoulder, meeting his rank. He was very, very low on the food chain. He wouldn't be able to do much, his fear was actually almost warranted.

"Gather up some men- anyone with a gun. Go out there and stay low, shoot anything that moves. Do you hear me?"

He nodded, his white military-issued hat nearly slipping off of his light brown hair. She loosened her grip on his collar, and in an instant he was stumbling down the hall, struggling to hold his rifle.

Moments later, the signal was hit. Red flashing alarms all around the fort soon sprung to life, the deep colored lights spinning as a loud drone echoed throughout the entire metal fortress. Soldiers high and low scrambled to drop their work and research, grab guns, and take to their combat and defense posts. Others leapt out of bed, tugging on coats and boots still half-asleep. Yawns were stifled by orders being shouted. Several groups tripped hastily up the stair and elevators, making their ways to Briggs' roof, where multiple cannons stood silent vigil in the night; awaiting action.

Accompanying these soldiers bound for the fort's top were the Major General and her adjutant. After years of service, Miles had gotten used to matching Olivier's quick pace. He followed her closely up the stairs- which were quicker than the crowded elevator at this point. They soon reached the top; neither breaking a sweat thanks to ages of countless emergency drills.

The blonde quickly strode up to one soldier who was looking out onto Drachman territory with a pair of binoculars, "What's the damage, captain?"

Flashing her a quick salute, the captain lowered his binoculars and handed them to the general. His eyes remained locked on the snowy night ahead of them, "Another flare was spotted to the northwest, sir. Red again. It's too dark to actually see more than that."

"Ah," Olivier replied, lifting the binoculars to look through them. Her long eyelashes brushed against the cold plastic of the field glasses as her eyes narrowed. Sure, it was dark, and maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but…

It seemed as if movement stirred within the umbra of the shadows cast upon the white ground underfoot. Dark, huddled masses loomed over the snow, gliding across the plain. There were only a few of them.

"There's something out there. Load a cannon," General Armstrong spoke lowly, glaring above the binocular's lens. She handed them to Miles, who took off his snow-blindness goggles to look through them. For a split second, even in the darkness of the night, she caught a glimpse of his deep red eyes. They had always been different and foreign, an alien sight to see in such a place as this. She admired them silently.

"I see them, general," He said, lowering the lenses and sporting a frown. "They're headed this way."

Olivier glared back at the soldiers behind them, "Didn't I tell you to load that cannon?"

"General!" Miles snapped suddenly, looking back through the binoculars again. The Amestrian's blue eyes widened; it was rare to hear the major raise his voice. "They've crossed our border, sir. What would you have us do?"

Silence hung in the air as the general stood in deep thought, "Don't fire the cannons yet. There's not many of them, it would be a waste of ammunition. Get some snipers up here, quickly."

On cue, several soldiers skidded to a halt in front of her, saluting in unison. She carefully took the binoculars from Miles, "Fire at will, boys. Be quick and efficient, as you were taught."

The snipers hunkered down on the fort's top, loading their weapons and resting them upon their shoulders. Their breathing seemed to still in each of their lungs as they all took aim. One fired, the kick of the gun causing their body to flinch backwards slightly. Another took a shot. A sharp intake of breath was heard from them, but it was unknown if it was because they missed or hit their mark. It could go either way.

Several others shot down onto the snow below them, until the group of them sat motionless. One spoke quietly, "That's all of them, general."

"Very good," Olivier turned on her heels, her coat whipping behind her elegantly. "Come, major."

Miles nodded, following her obediently without question. They made their way down through the fort, eventually emerging out into the gentle night down below. They stepped out, greeted by several soldiers. A couple of others could be seen nearby in the dark, dragging bodies nearer. The nervous soldier from before saluted the general and the major, which they then returned.

"They were Drachman alright, sir," he began, seemingly less skittish than before. His voice still held a deep apprehensiveness to it as he spoke, his salute lowering slowly and carefully. "They were soldiers, too. There was five of them, and a, uh…" he trailed off, his eyes cast downward as he searched for the correct words, "Well, just come see, sir."

Olivier nodded, following the soldier as he lead her and Miles over to the bodies. Several other Briggs soldiers hunched around something, huddled together and speaking lowly. "Move," the general hissed, to which every member of the small group lifted their head and nervously stepped aside.

The general glanced at her adjutant. She saw those beautiful red orbs of his widen in confusion, concern. Her cold, compassionless ones followed his surprised gaze, eventually landing on one soldier in the middle of their little circle.

A soft gasp escaped her lips.