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A mixed environment filled the mess hall: half were awake and talkative, while the other have were zombie-like. Ed listened as waited in line for a steaming cup of coffee. "Have you heard that the Quicksilver Alchemist and the Flame Alchemist are going to being sparring hand-to-hand today?"
"Yeah, it's unfair because those two are always the top two in our bracket," whined an alchemist that Ed had never met before, but realized through deduction that said alchemist was military. "And to think that those two are so young and possess the rank of Major General and Colonel; I mean Quicksilver is only like, what? Twenty-seven? And the Flame twenty-nine."
"It's because of those two that the promotions for the rest of us are so scarce." That just caused Ed to roll his eyes at what he was hearing. He had seen Foxtrot and Mustang's skills and knew – begrudgingly when it came to his commanding officer- that they deserved their rank. "Don't forget that there's that new runt running around under Mustang's control: the Fullmetal Alchemist."
"Probably a power play."
"Yeah, Flame trying to seek out his next promotion like the military dog he is."
A higher pitched masculine-like voice broke the talks regarding Mustang. "I wonder why Quicksilver didn't take the runt."
Ed felt the tick mark appear long before it really did. His automail fist clenching at his side as he counted down in his head. "What's wrong with Fullmetal, huh?" Lifting a fist next to hi face, Ed glared at the seated alchemists. "And whose so small that even if you stepped on him he would fit between the crevasses of yours shoes?! Huh?!" Glaring hard at the group of the alchemists, Ed wanted to desperately throw them around to show them that size didn't matter when it came to a fight or anything.
"Be quiet kid," chided Foxtrot, who had just walked through the door of the mess hall. Grabbing a tray from the pile she slid down the line of food. "It's too early to hear you bitch and moan about your height." The tray became decorated with various fruits that were provided, a slice of bread, and the potato mash that had seen better days. Quietly, she picked a table off towards the corner and away from the other alchemists and seated herself down.
"Saved by another brat of the military," whispered the one alchemists.
Fullmetal glared and was about to retort but was cut off. "Warrant Office Vincent," growled a familiar masculine voice. Everyone looked towards the mess hall door being whipped open and welcomed the sight of a stern-faced Mustang. "You should pick on someone of your own rank, or your own skill at best."
"Why you!" Vincent seethed.
"If I were in your shoes, then I wouldn't even think about getting up," said an eerie serious Foxtrot, "Because that could lead to an incident that might just look like you were planning on assaulting an officer of higher rank in order to get a chance for promotion, which means court martial and demotion with the revocation of your alchemist certification."
The blonde alchemist looked back the female alchemist and saw that she was casual eating her breakfast, not even bothering to look up from her food. He looked back to his commanding officer and saw that he had already filled his tray with eggs, a fruit, and bacon and was on his way to sitting across from Quicksilver. Without thinking, he quickly got his coffee and seated his small body next to the more experienced Quicksilver Alchemist. He noted that the other alchemists had quieted down considerably.
"At least we earned what promotions we have fairly," sneered on of the other alchemists before he and his group left the mess hall with haste.
"What the hell does that mean?" Golden eyes looked between the two alchemists next to him. "Was he just trying to be an asshole or something?" The air at the table seemed to turn sore instantly. Mackenzie grimaced and looked steadily at her grapes, as if they were the most interesting things in the world. On the other side of the table, Mustang visibly tensed and looked into the empty space between his and Foxtrot's trays. Starting to feel self-conscious for asking such horrible question, Ed resorted to looking at Quick's tray. "I've noticed you don't eat meat. Is there is a specific reason for that?"
Silver darted to look at Ed questioningly before turning back to the tray that was filled with half a scoop of mash potatoes and a few bites of fruit left. "It's a byproduct of what happened back then," her voice wavered heavily. Memories of capture filling her mind, causing a slight tremble in her hands that were – thankfully – tucked between her legs.
"Ishval?" Fullmetal inquired, honestly interested. But, a quick and decisive head shake threw that answer out of the question for Ed. "Hmmm, I'll be honest: I don't know a lot about you, Major must have seen a lot if that 'byproduct' of yours didn't occur from Ishval."
"Just call me Mackenzie, or Mac, or Quicksilver," stated Mackenzie, "Anything but rank, please"
"But you should be proud you have such a rank, especially if you are only twenty-seven." Hearing a sigh, the blonde looked over to see Mac semi-hunched over and looking mildly distraught. "What was that?"
"I'm twenty-eight."
Underneath the table, Roy moved his foot and gently nudged Mackenzie's. It was a small gesture of encouragement, of the comfort he swore he would provide the day they wed. He saw the slight smile that curled itself on her face. "I think that I'll beat you today," smirked Mustang. The Colonel was attempting to change the subject and mood because he and his wife did start the day with such wonderful moods.
"I'm betting on the Major Gen- I mean Mac!"
"I'm betting Mustang," replied the female alchemist.
"Why him?!" sputtered Ed, mouth wide.
A simple roll of the shoulders was given, while Foxtrot jammed a spoonful of potatoes into her mouth. After quick swallow and sip of coffee she looked at her tray, while she played wit the reaming of the mashed potatoes. "To be honest, Ed, Mustang's better at hand-to-hand, but," a small smirk spread against full lips, "I'm better at alchemy."
"We'll find that out later, now, won't we?"
"Try me Flame."
Ed watched the two bicker between each other, while eating his own breakfast. "Like children," thought the younger. Observing how the pair don't sound or look anything like how Hughes and the Bastard argue, but something more domestic-like. "Hey, you never answered my question about why you're eating everything but meat."
"You're right, but I'm not going to answer your question because I don't need to answer you."
"There," Ed finalized, "The mood in her changed. There's something she's hiding."
"We should get ready because I know I'll beat you at hand-to-hand."
Silver looked up to obsidian. "Then beat me," challenged the Major General.
An empty suit of armor sat on the couch of the Hughes' house, purple eye-like orbs looked at the numerous pictures that lined the room. Al had nothing else to do, but look because Elysia was taking her daily nap, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes was at work, and Gracia was in the kitchen baking something that he wished he could have eaten. So, the animated armor found himself gazing at the dozens upon dozens of pictures that seemed to be taken from every moment of Lt. Colonel Hughes' life.
There were pictures that capture the moment that the bespectacled man's married Gracia to the altar-like photos devoted to the man's daughter. Al had spied a picture of a young boy smiling up at an invisible person, while hugging a dog; the single piece of hair that stuck out was a dead giveaway that it was Hughes as child. The suit of armor chuckled lightly at thinking of what Hughes was like as a child. Looking to further entertain himself, Al looked at the other pictures. There were some that were colored, which meant that they were newer compared to the photos there were grayscale that represented that said photos were older. "That one must be from Ishaval," mused Al. The photo was of four people standing together, dressed in the Amestrian military uniform of the time with white over coats. It struck Alphonse that the Lieutenant Colonel was one of the individuals and he was wearing a different white coat than the other three, which said coat resembled a doctor's coat almost. The soul realized that the blonde short haired person was First Lieutenant Hawkeye, while the familiar and younger features of the Colonel looked back at him from the photo
What Al thought was the weirdest that the Colonel was standing closer towards the only member of the group he didn't recognize: a female Amestrian soldier. From the photograph, Al was able to figure out that she must have been close to the Lieutenant Colonel, Colonel, and First Lieutenant if she was standing with them for the picture and the fact that Hughes would allow the photo to be hung up on his wall. "I wonder who she is . . ." Al said allowed. He kept examining her black and white features. Her eyes appeared silver-like due to the coloration of the photo, but something in Alphonse's head was telling him that the individual's eyes had to be naturally light. On the flip side, her hair was held high in ponytail, but had a side braid on the right side of her head that lead back to be gathered up; however, there must have been wind that day because her hair was blowing out and Al could see that the ends were a distinctively different shade compared to the roots of her head.
"Looking at that old picture?"
Al turned to meet Gracia's warm and welcoming emerald eyes. "Oh, yes! I was just wondering who the fourth person was because I don't think I've met her and she seems to be someone that your husband, the Colonel, and First Lieutenant cared for."
"That's Major General Mackenzie J. Foxtrot, also known as the Quicksilver Alchemist."
"The Quicksilver Alchemist is a girl?! I mean, it's just that . . . That I've heard so many things about the Quicksilver Alchemist that a girl is surprising."
Gracia smiled lightly and hid her laugh behind her pale hand. "Yes, it is kind of rare for a female to be a state alchemist, but she is a prodigy. Kind of like Edward, and in a way, your brother reminds me of her."
"Wow," muttered Al. He thought about his own opinions of his brother: strong, intelligent, and kind hearted – as in he'll put his safety after others. "She must be a really nice and wonderful person."
"She is!" promised Gracia, "And, I'm sure you'll get the chance to meet her when the training session is over." The suit of armor looked at Gracia. "She and Roy always come over for a visit, seeing Maes and I don't get to see them often since they are both so busy and with Roy's transfer to the East."
"Do you think she'd teach us something? Like her alchemy?"
That made Gracia pause for a second. To be honest, she didn't really know very much about alchemy and two of the closest people to her and her husband were highly trained alchemists. "I think she wouldn't mind at all."
Silver stared hard at obsidian. The pair stood equally apart from each other in a relaxed pose, waiting for the Fuhrer to give the command. Said individual was standing off to the side with a small smile etched onto his face, but underneath he was getting ready to calculate the worthiness of the candidates before him. "Alchemists get set," commanded the Fuhrer, "Fight!"
Like a large panther getting ready to strike Roy curled his body into a battle-ready stance, as Mackenzie spread her legs slightly wider and hunched over. They were calculating each other's movements and future movements. The tension between them was thick enough that Ed, who sat off far on the side was taken aback by the sheer power they were radiating. "Wow," whispered Ed.
"Yes," agreed Armstrong, "Their fights, though expected, are spectacular to watch."
"Ready Roy-Boy?" taunted Foxtrot, who slowly inched a few steps closer.
That shit eating grin that Ed couldn't stand spread devilishly on Mustang's face. "Bring it."
"Always."
