Full Metal Journal: The Life of a Military
Don't own FMA- I'd like to own at least the military or Tucker, or even Greed as I have never seen any of his episodes. But, I don't.
Whatever.
Entry 6:
Lt. Col. Hughes has us working on office detail today. Since Col. Mustang and the rest of the staff are over at Eastern HQ for a while (due to some screwball officer messing up), Lt. Col. Hughes is our current C.O. Nothing wrong with that- he's a pretty laid back guy. Makes it easier to get away with stuff this way.
I guess someone higher-up must've realized too, 'cause now the Lt. Col. wants us working on files, cabinets, and- the highest priority on the list- coffee. He says it'll help his staff on their jobs. It may be just me, but they seem to be doing just dandy by themselves.
Three hours in, you could swear that the freakin' clock was going backwards. Smokey looked at me and nodded. Time foe Operation: Party- Time.
We decided to place in a call for Lt. Col. Hughes by his daughter- only not really. I, being the genius that I am, would pose as operator and tell him to hold, while Smokey would sneak into the kitchen, grab a lot of beers, and we would all have a little party.
I snuck out to a near-by phone booth and rang up Lt. Col. Hughes's office. With the classic luck of the Risemboolans, he picked it up.
"Mr. Hughes?" I asked, making an operator's voice appear out of nowhere (I swear to God I'm awesome with that kinda stuff).
"Yes?" he asked, completely oblivious. I almost burst out laughing, but bit my cheek.
"There's a call coming in to you from your wife and daughter. Please hold," the fake operator (Me) said. Then, placing the phone down, I left the booth as I could hear him gleefully squealing in happiness. Shmuck.
By the time I got back, Smokey had already gone for the beers and was passing them all out. There was enough for all thirty guys in the platoon so everyone got at least two or three beers. Boozer, being who he was, got ten. We soon had a nice little office party going.
Taking a sip of my second beer, I started examining pictures on the wall. There sure were a lot. We had a lot of pics with Lt. Col. Hughes and Col. Mustang, some with Maj. Armstrong, some of the Col. with Lt. Hawkeye, some with Lt. Havoc or the rest of the staff. There were also some of the Fuhrer and Col. Douglas, and-of course- an entire wall full of pictures of the Lt. Col. with his beloved family, wife and daughter.
That put a smile on my face. However, it got wiped off when I saw a picture of someone I didn't recognize- a tall, skinny man with a black ponytail and a sinister smile. One of his hands was outstretched and I saw a transmutation circle etched into his palm.
I had never seen him around, so I asked Castillo who he was.
He told me the man was Maj. Zolf Kimblee or the "Crimson Alchemist" as they called him. He was one of the many State Alchemists that fought in Ishbal, and possibly the most effective one, as he could use his alchemy to transform the human structure into something unbalanced- a very affective bomb. However, the maniac was finally locked up when he blew up a superior officer. He's in a prison over near the Lab 5 now- rotting, for all it's worth.
As the party started getting good, the door burst open and Lt. Col. Hughes burst open. If a man could murder by staring evilly at someone, he just killed off an entire platoon. We were all too stunned to move. I wasn't too concerned with getting caught, though- I knew it was all for one around here.
"WHO THE HELL IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS!" he yelled.
Thirty pairs of hands instantly pointed at me and Smokey.
Traitors.
Yup, that's all for now.