Hooray, it's still alive! This one took a while to churn out, but I hope you guys like it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 6: Distrust
July 24th, 2088
United States of America
[Classified Location]
Greed sighed as he watched the USS Rutledge, one of the nuclear submarines that carried him and his team mates through the portal, be lifted up out of the water by a massive crane into a dry-dock to have its arsenal switched out.
"How long has it been since we went in?" he asked absentmindedly, fingering his cigarette.
"Six weeks and five days." Roa asked, a cigar clenched between his teeth.
"Shorter than we expected. Still can't believe these Drachmans attacked D.C. and Moscow." Edward sighed.
"Looks like both countries are going in. I can't believe this is happening." Martel sighed, pressing her flask to her lips. Greed immediately snatched it and tossed in the water, much to her protests.
"Come on, captain, one drink won't hurt!"
"Raquel, I need everyone at their very best. You drunk off your ass is gonna affect our team, especially since you're the sniper."
"Yeah, says the man who smokes up to 5 packs of Marlboro NXT in a single day. By the way, when are you getting your lungs fixed up?" the sniper retorted with a smirk.
"Knock it off, that's an order!" a voice came from behind.
Immediately, the warriors turned around, in a crisp salute. The Supreme Commander stood behind them, although he currently looked anything but a military officer. Blue jeans tucked into brown cowboy boots, a black T-shirt that had the word's 'Harley-Davidson' in orange, and a blue sherpa jean jacket casually draped over his shoulders. And an old Beretta M9 semi-auto strapped to his waist with a clip of ammo.
Edward returned the salute, then shifted his gaze over to the submarine. New torpedoes were now being installed in the ship's torpedo tubes.
"Packing a lot of heat." Greed muttered.
"Yeah, the new Mk. 57's should do the trick. Nuclear torpedoes ain't no slouch in the explosive department." Edward muttered.
"Sir, what we found over there? I really don't think we'll need nuclear weapons if it turns into a fight." Greed protested.
"It'll turn into a fight. Believe me. You know how the Russians respond to when their soil is attacked. What did you guys find over there?" he suddenly asked, changing the topic.
"These Drachmans got an impressive war machine, sir. Primitive by our standards, but impressive nonetheless." Greed started, placing his left hand on Edward's neck. His hand then glowed green; strips of green light trickled from his fingers to Ed's DNI interface on the back of his skull, where it briefly glowed green. Edward's eyes then glowed green, but only briefly.
"Damn. Their military is much bigger than we were told. Either Sorchyav lied to us or he was kept in the dark. Either way, it was foolish of us to take his word. And it was foolishness and arrogance on our part to believe they wouldn't attack us again. If the Drachmans really are desperate to win against their southern neighbor, then of course they'll try and steal our weapons and tech." Edward sighed angrily.
"And they'll get slaughtered as a result." Greed remarked, scratching his neck.
"Still don't think we need the nukes?" Edward asked, glaring at the spec op operator.
"No. I don't think so."
"That's too damn bad. We're taking them with us. Gonna hit them hard where it hurts."
That was only a half-lie. While Edward had no intentions of using nuclear weaponry against Drachma-especially since they kidnapped his younger brother-he would use them if he had no other option.
Greed wanted to reply to that, but knew that pushing his luck with the Supreme Commander was like playing Russian roulette with a revolver with all but 1 chamber loaded.
The American warriors simply stood in an awkward silence, watching the submarines being refitted with new weapons.
"Whatever shit we got between us, we gotta put it behind us. Y'all got any beef with me?" Edward asked. The Navy SEAL's stayed silent, not wanting to incur the wrath of their commander.
"Come on, talk with me. I wanna know what's on your minds." Edward practically ordered as he leaned against the steel railing.
"You've changed, a lot. It's almost as if you're not the same man anymore. You were a bloodthirsty beast during the war. You just slaughtered anyone you deemed an enemy without a second thought. You once left a Chinese spy hanging from a lamppost in Chinatown with his stomach ripped open with a knife up his asshole just to send a message. And don't forget about all the Asian-Americans you imprisoned." Greed said somewhat accusingly.
"I know I've done things that'll earn me a special spot in hell when I go. I'm prepared for that." Ed sighed. While he presented an image of a ruthless leader, even he felt guilt for some of the things he did during the war.
"You've also cut back a lot on the drinking. It's rather strange not seeing you with a bottle in your hand all the time."
"Can't afford to do it anymore." Ed sighed as he walked away, not even bothering to list his grievances with Seal Team Six. The super-soldiers simply watched as he walked away.
"That is not a good sign, my friends." Greed stated very matter-of-factly.
"Something's bothering him heavily. Whatever it is, it better not affect him too badly, what with him being the Supreme Commander and all." Edward Heiderich muttered.
"I think it already did. Think we should enact Protocol #33?" Dolcetto asked, smashing a cigarette under his boot.
"Not yet. Wait until the right moment."
July 24th, 2088
[Classified Location]
A few hours later...
"President Lenthal, I understand your concerns. But do you really believe it's wise to wait? These Drachmans have demonstrated an ability to get past our defenses, and they even managed to abduct one of your POW's you captured from that second incursion in Washington D.C." President Ivan Sokolov asked.
"I know we can't risk waiting. It's about the Supreme Commander. Ever since that individual prisoner was abducted, he's changed. It's like he's not the same person anymore." Lenthal sighed, pressing his glass of water to his dry lips.
"Could you further elaborate on that? You have more experience with Mr. Elric than I do, despite that he led both our forces to victory in the war."
Lenthal sighed heavily, pinching his nose-bridge.
"I served with him during the war. He was tough, very vigilant. Disciplined like no other, and he took his job very seriously. He always pushed for excellence from all those under his command. He cared a lot about his subordinates, was always looking out for them. But he wasn't afraid to send them out on suicide missions if it called for it." Lenthal stopped to drink some more water.
"But he was also very ruthless. He never saw the Chinese as living beings, he simply saw them as the enemy to be destroyed. And, well, we both know just how well he destroyed them."
"Yes, I know as well. Seeing those massive fire-mushrooms dot the Chinese country… and then he used that massive cannon of his in Alaska. I still can't believe he managed to build phosphorus shells that large. It would've been far more merciful to just carpet bomb those villages with standard bombs then use those damn shells."
A moment of silence passed the two Presidents.
"I don't know if sending him out again would yield the best results. However, considering he's one of the last ranking officers left, we might not have any choice."
A knock on the door brought the two men out of their rather dull and depressing conversation.
"President Sokolov, President Lenthal, the council is ready." A Russian soldier spoke through the wooden door.
The two men simply sighed.
"Once I get my government rebuilt, I'm resigning from the Presidency. I'm tired of all these fucking meetings." Sokolov muttered as he slid on his jacket.
"Same here. Hell, I might leave before we finish the reconstruction." Lenthal lightly chuckled. There was no humor in his voice, however.
The two men walked down the hallways of the bunker, half-heartedly returning the salutes of American and Russian super-soldiers guarding the various doors and corridors. Once they reached the main conference room,
"I hate going in here when the council is called. Just reminds me of how much both our countries lost." Sokolov muttered.
"I know. So much potential, wasted away in a pointless war." Lenthal sighed. Nevertheless, he grabbed the steel handle and thrust the heavy door open.
July 24th, 1923
Central City, Amestris
It had been over a month since the incursion into the portal that had appeared at Briggs. A month since his granddaughter went in with some of Amestris' best and bravest. And now that the portal had disappeared…..
I've sent my granddaughter to her death. What kind of a man sends his own blood off to die? A man who's not worthy of the uniform, nor the title of Fuhrer. Fuhrer Grumman mused silently to himself.
Ever since the portal had disappeared from the mountains, everyone noticed the Fuhrer had changed. Gone was the somewhat eccentric, yet energetic leader who had brought peace to an unstable country. Gone was the man who had forged strong relations with the nation's former enemies. Gone was the man who constantly brought in various trinkets and knick-knacks to decorate his office. Now, it seemed that the loss of his granddaughter was effectively broken him.
Of course, news of another portal appearing out in the west had reached his ears, but he just didn't have the heart to send in more soldiers to their death. However, that didn't stop him from blockading the portal, although it wasn't much of a blockade because of the large forest in which the strange portal had appeared in.
If any invasion army were to try and get through, they'd be very hard pressed to get past all the thick trees. Of course, that would apply under normal circumstances. When the portal had appeared, a massive explosion had took place that had very cleanly vaporized much of the forest. There were still plenty of trees, but nothing like it used to be.
Scientists and alchemists were clamoring to see what the portal was made of, and how it worked, but they were all rebuked by the military presence patrolling the half-dead forest.
For now, there was nothing more that Grumman felt he could do.
The military was still very strong, but it no longer had that strong offensive capability that it had under Bradley's regime. Amestris could still conduct a successful military invasion of another country, but it would bring about the negative political stigma of the country returning to its old, expansionist ways, especially since Grumman had worked tirelessly to change how the world viewed the nation.
To hell with that. I'm getting my granddaughter back, and I'll be damned if anyone tries to stop me. Grumman thought as he rose to his feet. Grabbing the phone, he shouted orders for a certain soldier to be brought to him immediately. It was time to visit an old friend.
July 24th, 2088
[Classified Location]
Everyone hated meeting in the council room. What was supposed to be a gathering of the both nations top military and government officials, it was reduced to a near empty room, haunted by the ghosts of the men and women who had perished during the war.
At the beginning, it held hundreds of men and women, all gathered together to share ideas and strategies on how to combat the Chinese threat during WWIII. As the war drew on, bit by bit, men and women slowly disappeared.
Now, there were barely a dozen souls gathered around the massive, circular table.
Representing the Americans was President Mike Z. Lenthal, Supreme Commander Edward Elric, Fleet Admiral King Bradley, General Hershel von Shepherd III, Colonel Frank Archer, General Kyle T. Ackerman, Admiral Todd F. Sanderson, and the Secretary of Defense, Ronald R. Kramer.
On the Russian side was President Ivan Sokolov, General Boris Laskin, Admiral Anya Mishkin, and Colonel Mikhail Shubin.
What was once well over 300, was now reduced to only 12.
12 human beings charged with rebuilding and defending their war-torn homes.
12 human beings charged with the rebuilding of a nuclear-riddled Earth.
12 human beings that, if they played their cards wrong, would be remembered as the ones who destroyed the human race in one last nuclear war with South America. Obviously, it was a lot of responsibility on their shoulders.
It did NOT help matters at all that ALL of them were heavy drinkers.
"Why haven't the representatives from (burp) Japan and (burp) South Korea joined us today?" Edward asked, rising to his feet as he pocketed his flask.
"They've withdrawn their commissions from the Council, Commander. They say that simply wish to protect their chunk of the Earth by any means necessary, and that they no longer wish to entangle themselves with foreign nations." Admiral Mishkin replied, running a hand through her short, blonde hair.
"They have every right to do so, I don't blame them. Alright, has everyone reviewed the data that Seal Team Six has acquired when they went through the Anchorage portal?" Edward asked, typing some commands on the table. The lights then dimmed as the holo-projector activated.
"We compared this data with what Col. Sorchyav told us several months ago. Either he lied to us, or he was kept in the dark by his superiors. It's primitive by comparison, but it's still a very large force. Their navy consists of 97 battleships, 87 battlecruisers, 72 light cruisers, 79 frigates, 95 light destroyers, 81 heavy destroyers, 185 cargo transports, 74 dreadnaughts, 20 submarines, 57 fuel tankers, and they're building what appears to be a really shitty aircraft carrier." Elric simply listed it off as if he was listing off his grocery list. The remaining men and women were in a state of shock. They had a feeling that the Drachman military was old, but had no idea just how numerically superior they were.
"It gets even better. Their ground forces consist of... 35 field armies, 27 mechanized infantry divisions, 22 tank divisions, 41 artillery regiments, 37 cavalry units, and 45 reserve field armies. And that's just what we know of, it could very well be that the military force we're facing is much bigger than this. And before you ask about an air force, the good colonel never told me. And I interrogated him twice concerning that subject. He knows nothing about Drachman air power, or so he says. And the data my team brought back reveals nothing about an air force. Either they don't have one, or my troopers never found anything. Either way, we should be prepared to face one."
The room was silent at that.
"Can we have a breakdown of each ground force?" Bradley asked, breaking the silence.
Edward sighed, picking up his iPad.
"Keep in mind, this is just what Seal Team Six brought back, it's possible that the numbers are off. Each field army consists of 350,500 souls. They put 25,100 in each mechanized infantry division. They're tank divisions are 20,500 each. Their artillery regiments have 3,200 in them. Each horse cavalry unit contains about 780 personal. If you do the math, that puts the Drachman military at about 29,328,760 personal. We'll be going up against a 30 million man military. Again, that's just what we know of. Their military could be much bigger, or we could be misreading the numbers and it's much smaller. We just don't know."
Again, the room was silent at that. The United States had only 4 million in its military, while Russia had only 3 million. Together, they would have around 7 million to send against 30 million. Despite their clear technological advantage, they were still going to be severely outnumbered.
"How the hell could they field a 30 million man army? That's not even possible." Lenthal mused to himself. Edward's superior hearing, however, picked it up.
"I, for one, do believe it's possible. In my interrogation of Sorchyav, he explained to me that Drachma is a very harsh place to live, and during its early years, the survival rate wasn't very high. So the government mandated that all families had to bear at least 10 children. As the country grew more and more militaristic and more industrial, that number jumped up to 15, then 20. Now, he says that families are expected to pop out 35 kids. They need people to run the factories, farm the crops, and fight their wars. The reason why it's so unbelievable for us is for two reasons: One, we nuked over 200 billion people to hell and back when the bombs fell on Europe, the Middle East, North Africa and Asia. The war wiped out a good chunk of the human race, and we've grown accustomed to it. Two, we've focused more on robotics and technological advancements than putting in more human soldiers. As it stands, for each human soldier in our arsenal, it's flanked by 5 robotic weapons. The Drachmans don't have that, so they have to make up for it with more meatbags." Edward stated as he pulled out his flask.
Again, silence filled the room as the officers contemplated what this could mean for their future conflict.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we can easily afford this war. We have the money, we have the manpower, and we have the weaponry and the means to get over there. The real question is do we fight this conventional style, or do we drop nukes?"
"Well, a nuclear pre-emptive strike would negate their 30 million man advantage. The new warheads we used in the war, if we used those against Drachma, we won't have much to worry about concerning nuclear radiation; the new devices hardly spew any out so if we did use them, the lands could still be useful to us. But slaughtering 30 million men and women from the skies probably won't help us with the local population, if there are any left after the bombs fall. If we do it conventional style, they'll have the home field advantage because it's on their turf, on their terms. Just because our technology is superior doesn't mean it would help us win outright. It would still be a bloody conflict just to find the people responsible for these incursions into our lands." Shepherd mused.
"Not to mention, there is still the issue of getting the nukes to the targets in the first place. As you well know, Commander, our fighter planes can only call a small payload and they're limited in range. Not to mention, based on the data your team gave us, the portal up in Anchorage leads directly to an enemy harbor. Once we pop in, they'll start shooting at us. Getting fighter jets up in the air would be a very risky maneuver, they might even shoot a few down. And even if we managed to destroy their first wave of defenses, we'd be stuck on their home turf and they could sink our ships at will." Admiral Sanderson stated, his cybernetic hands folded on the table.
"You're forgetting our nuclear subs, Admiral. We send those in first to launch their ICBM's at military targets, and then we send the ground pounders in to mop up what's left." Edward replied rather tersely.
"And after we nuke them, then what? Send in an occupational force? It'll be the Middle East all over again from the early 2000's." Sanderson shot back.
"HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THEY'VE HIT US THREE TIMES ALREADY?!" Edward roared back.
"If we don't fight back, they'll just keep opening these goddamn portals to who knows where! They could open one up in the Kremlin, the White House, the Pentagon, hell, they could even open one up in some suburb of Queens! If we don't fight back, they'll just keep coming!" Edward yelled.
"And how do you know that?" Sanderson yelled back, getting to his feet.
"Because it's what I would do, what any sane military man would do! If you see your target is weak and unwilling to defend himself, you keep hitting him because it's easy to do so!"
"And what about the blue-coated soldiers that came in during the second incursion at D.C.?! What about them?!"
"What about those guys?!"
"They seem to know who you are, Supreme Commander!" Sanderson yelled, sarcasm heavily laced in his vice. Edward paused at this, and was mentally shitting bricks.
"What did you say?" he asked slowly, in a very dangerous tone.
"I said they seem to know who you are. And I think you might know who they were also. You gave them a chance to surrender. But the ones that came in first, you just slaughtered them without a second thought." Sanderson continued, a growing smirk on his scarred face.
"I wanted prisoners to interrogate, I knew that if I left it up to Shepherd, he would've slaughtered them all." Edward growled.
"Oh, how convenient. Then why is it that they actually called you by your first name before you shipped them away?"
"Admiral, what are you talking about?" Secretary Kramer asked.
"Video file H4-881. One of the security camera feeds from Washington D.C. As you can see, after these new soldiers surrendered after their armored column was wiped out... well, I'll let the video feed speak for itself."
July 24th, 1923
Central City, Amestris
Grumman stared out the window of his office, watching the bright lights of the largest city in the nation twinkle and shine. It seemed every night, the city would come alive in a different way than the daytime. The streets would be crowded with cars and taxis, civilians rushing to the glitz and glamour of daily night life. Dancing clubs and bars were constantly busy, movie theatres would have lines down the sidewalks trying to get as many viewers in to see the latest picture. The rich and successful were constantly throwing massive parties for their friends and acquaintances. Although there were a few who preferred the country under Bradley's regime, there were many more who were enjoying the wealth and riches that the new economy was giving everyone.
Grumman ignored it all when the man he asked for walked in.
"Ah, General Archibald, come in. How is everything out in the west?" Grumman asked, extending his hand to a slightly stocky, barrel-chested man.
"If you're referring to the portal, sir, no problems from there. My men are still guarding its entrance, and we've kept all civilians from sneaking into the forest to get a look at it. As to how it works, I have no idea. I'm a soldier, not an alchemist in that regard." The man's deep, gravelly voice was comforting yet somehow ferocious at the same time.
"Do you feel comfortable sending soldiers into the portal to see what's on the other side?" Grumman asked, a strange glint in his eyes. Archibald simply narrowed his eyes at the Fuhrer.
"Why? My contacts up north have told me we already tried that twice, and both groups didn't come back. Now you ask me to send my soldiers in, not knowing what's on the other side?"
"And if it was a standing order from your Fuhrer?" Grumman asked, his voice now hardened. Archibald simply sighed at that.
"Sir, we've seen no-one come out of that portal ever since it showed up. The one that was still up at Briggs, no-one came out of that as well before it disappeared. When you took office, you told us all you were going to change how this nation conducted its business, that we would not go gallivanting off to other lands with our armies to conquer what we see fit. And now you want to turn your back on that?" Archibald asked, his thick, greying moustache twitching as he spoke.
"General, this is a standing order-"
"Then this is my resignation, sir. As long as you are attempting to invade other nations, you will not be having my services." Archibald growled, tossing a letter on the Fuhrer's desk. Not even saluting, he simply put his hands in his pockets and walked away.
Grumman grabbed the envelope and ripped it open, reading the contents.
Son of a bitch, he really is resigning. The only two generals that I really trust are Armstrong and Mustang. I can't send Armstrong away because she's really the only one keeping the Drachmans away. And I can't risk sending in Mustang, he'd tear whatever's on the other side to pieces looking for his men. Especially for my granddaughter. What the fuck am I going to do now?
July 24th, 2088
[Classified Location]
"Well, now that everyone has seen the video footage, what do you have to say for yourself, Commander?" Admiral Sanderson asked, glee evident in his voice. Edward simply had a stoic look on his face, completely unreadable.
"Admiral, this is nothing more than hearsay evidence. I mean, how do we know that this footage hasn't been altered? This could be a fake, for all we know!" Lenthal said loudly.
"I've already checked the tapes five times now! It's not fake! This man, he knows something and he's keeping it a secret from all of us! What do you know about these blue soldiers?!"
At this point, Sanderson was starting to sweat and breath heavily.
"Sanderson, what exactly are you accusing me of? Because to be honest, this sounds like another temper tantrum because you didn't get my rank. Is that it?" Edward asked calmly.
"What?! No, that's not it at all! I'm just trying to protect my country from a bastard like you!" he yelled back.
"Protect it from him? What has he done to warrant such accusations?" General Laskin asked.
"He tortures prisoners, he sends those he deems traitors to the firing squad, he... he even orchestrated the chemical bombings of Washington D.C. when the war started and blamed it on the Chinese! He put thousands of his own countrymen into prison camps just because they were of Asian descent! He's doing everything he can to keep martial law in place, and has ordered militia units all across the country to... to..." Sanderson stopped his barely coherent ramblings as he looked at the rest of the men and women.
"No, no, I'm... I'm not... I'm not crazy or jealous or anything like that! This man is a danger to the United States and everyone else, and I'm gonna stop you, Elric! YOU NEVER SHOULD'VE BEEN GIVEN THE JOB OF SUPREME COMMANDER, THAT TITLE SHOULD'VE GONE TO ME!"
The truth was finally out now.
"Are you done?" Edward asked.
The man could only breathe heavily. That was good enough for the former alchemist.
"Okay. So am I."
With that, Edward pulled out a Colt .45 revolver and fired a single round, splattering Sanderson's brains across the concrete wall.
"You should've done that years ago." President Sokolov said, lighting a cigeratte. He, along with everyone else, was clearly not affected by the Admiral's sudden death at all.
"We still needed every man in the force back then. So, back to the invasion, any questions?" Edward asked, holstering his gun.
July 24th, 1923
Drachma
[Unknown Location]
The Drachman Tsar kneeled down before the ancient being that sat cross-legged before him, his thick, heavy robe pooling against the cold floor.
"Hmm, the Tsar of Drachma. What does the most powerful man in the country want to do with a decrepit old man like me?" the seer asked almost sarcastically, his thick, black lips twisting into a disgusting smile.
"O Ancient One, I ask for knowledge concerning the future. My alchemists have made attempts into a foreign lands, lands not of our own. Each of my armies has either been destroyed outright or have returned with only a small handful of soldiers, most of whom are so shell-shocked they haven't begun speaking of what they saw."
"Ah, yes, I have heard of these... attempts to win the war with Amestris... Yes, you seek answers. If the Gods decree their will to me, then I will reveal it to you."
The old seer then went silent, softly rocking back and forth. The Tsar wondered if this would even work. For a moment, he mentally scolded himself. Why am I here wasting my time with this old hermit? He'll tell me either what I want to hear, or it could be complete bullshit. Either way, I should just-
"Ah, yes. I see it now." the seer grumbled.
"What? What do you see?"
"I see an unstoppable army of bears and eagles, destroying everything in their path. I see a man, hell-bent on recovering that which was taken from him. And he will not stop until that which was taken from him is restored by his side."
"A man? Who is this man?" the Tsar asked.
"Hmm. He has wings of fire, and talons of steel. He leads an army of ungodly abominations of man and machine. He has massive iron birds under his fingertips which will control the skies. He has beasts of steel that crush all that oppose them. He has... ships... massive ships that glide on the waters and also fly in the sky. They will rain unstoppable death on the grounds below. I see…"
"What?" the Tsar asked, alarmed by what he heard.
"What do you see?" he asked again.
"I see his ships, destroying everything in the waters. Your proud Navy will be swept aside by these new vessels, for they are unstoppable machines of war. I see... I see this man of fire and steel embracing a woman of iron and ice. A woman whose wrath your armies have had the misfortune of encountering. These two will join together and lay waste to your lands. Your armies will be swept aside, and your great cities will burn in an unstoppable fire from the skies above."
The Tsar grew worried. It honestly sounded more like the apocalypse than anything else. This wasn't what he wanted to hear. However, as if sensing the Tsars' discomfort,
"I also see a green smoke, killing everything it touches. It will strike man, women, child and beast without apology. It will leave its victims on the ground, lifeless, cold, and dead. I see fire from the skies, melting even the strongest steel and stone. I see..."
"What? What do you see?"
"Oh... you have really stepped on the wrong tail. No, you have awoken a sleeping giant, one that cannot be put back to sleep. I see massive, fiery mushrooms that will leave nothing but black holes in the ground. Even your strongest armies and cities will be erased from existence from these... weapons."
"What is it? The Flame Alchemist, General Mustang?"
"No." the seer chuckled. "No, even with the Philosopher Stone, General Mustang could never create such magnificent explosions as what I am seeing. No, these are the result of years of technology and progress. These are far more destructive than anything this world has ever seen. And the eagle who plots against you has thousands of them at his fingertips."
"What about my city? What about the capital city, what about that?"
The seer grumbled, annoyed at the Tsars question.
"Your city will see great turmoil during the course of this conflict. The people will demand a voice, the people will struggle and fight. But, ultimately, they will silence themselves, as they always do. When the dead awakens in the Great Cathedral that is when your city will fall. And a great fall it will be. An army of wolves and armored beasts, both walking and flying, will storm your walls, and leave a trail of blood and destruction in their wake."
"What are you talking about? An army of wolves and armored beasts, just what are you-"
"You will be the harbinger of doom for Drachma. You will bring the nation to its knees, and then some." The seer laughed.
"Is this the future? Can it be changed, or is it irreversible?"
"It can be changed. What is done, must be undone."
"What is done, must be undone? What does that mean?!"
"It means what it means. All that you have done, must be undone if you wish to save your precious Drachma. Why do you seek knowledge when you are not ready for such things?! Go, and leave me in peace, Your Highness." The seer grumbled, turning away.
Growling in frustration, the Tsar got up and walked away.
As he walked down the cold stone hallways, Alpha 1 fell in step beside him.
"Did the seer give you good news?" the assassin asked.
"No. Did you get anything out of Alphonse Elric?"
"No, nothing new. I've been thinking of moving him to one of the gulags we keep up north, beyond the capital."
"He won't survive in there. He's too soft."
"Don't worry, he'll be fine. I've seen to it myself." The assassin grinned evilly. At that point, the Tsar punched him in the nose.
"I gave you orders to interrogate the boy, not torture and rape him." Tsar Alexeev growled. The assassin stood at his full height, standing over the Tsar.
"Go ahead, throw your best punch, Alpha 1. You wanna fight me?"
The two men simply stared at each other, but the assassin backed down. He always backed down against the Tsar.
"You have new orders. Take your team and head back inside Amestris. I want Grumman and Mustang dead. Get it done."
Read and review, please! Any questions you may have, feel free to PM me.
