Hey guys!

Sorry about the delays all the time. Really, I am. -_- IF YOU'RE STILL READING THIS, I COMMEND YOU. Because you have the patience of a saint and you're awesome.

Disclaimer: I own nada except the story idea.

Enjoy!


8. Undercover Brother...and Sister

Havoc groaned, his arms becoming heavy after being held up over his head for so long.

"Quit moving, will you?" Fury scolded distractedly.

"How much longer is this going to take?" the blonde whined.

Fury ripped a piece of tape with his teeth before laying it over a wire that had been draped across Jean's chest. With his mouth free, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Almost done. Just one more piece..." He tore through another piece, using it to bolster the small microphone to his comrade's skin.

"Alright," Fury waved, stepping back. "You can put them down now."

With a deep exhale, Jean flung his arms to his side, feeling the blood rush back into the appendages. "Remind me what this is all about again?"

"For the tenth time, man," Breda said, "we're gonna be listening in on the mission tonight."

"Right." Jean scratched his head before grabbing at a his shirt, pulling it over his bare torso. "What happens if we run into my girl? She works there, remember?"

"Go on like nothing's wrong," Fury stated, fiddling with a radio that was connected to Havoc's microphone. "You can chit-chat. Use Riza as a good excuse."

"Yeah," Falman nodded. "Tell her you wanted to introduce her to your sister."

"Yeah, well, I never told her I had a sister," Jean retorted, crossing his arms.

"As long as you didn't tell her you didn't have a sister, you're good as gold," Breda insisted.

Jean sighed, annoyed that this mission could possibly cost him one of his best relationships. "Well, where is my 'sister' anyways?"

"Getting ready," Breda nodded in the direction of the staircase.

.Siste.

Roy silently watched as Riza slipped the gun holster up her leg, hiding it beneath her long, dark skirt.

"Nervous?" Roy asked.

She looked at him curiously before a small smile pried on her lips, her hands turning back to the holster. "Not particularly." She paused a moment. "Are you?"

"I have total faith in you and Havoc," Roy replied from his seat at the little table. "It's everyone else out there I don't trust."

Crossing the room, she placed her hand on his cheek, and he relished the feeling of her warm palm on his face. He held it in his own hand, looking up at her with a well-concealed worry; a worry she saw through as if it were sheer lace.

"You can't hide those puppy dog eyes, sir," she sighs, drawing away from the warmth of his fingers. "I know you too well."

He shut his eyes as she placed a gentle, reassuring kiss on his forehead, relishing the feel of her lips.

"Just promise me something," he murmured as she made for the staircase. She ceased wrapping herself up in her long jacket, golden eyes open to his words. "Don't die."

Somehow, she relaxed. "I'll try my hardest, sir."

.Siste.

"Ah, take a left here," Havoc said, pointing as Riza drove the car. "It should be right up the street, I think...Ah! There it is."

The blonde woman pulled into a clear parking space alongside the curb, placing the glasses on the bridge of her nose, causing Havoc to chuckle.

"You look like a braniac," he poked. "Or Fury."

"Well, these are his spare glasses..." she drew, a tiny smile on her face. They each slid out of the dark model car, relishing in how beautiful the Amestris night was.

"Looks like everyone's out tonight," Havoc commented, taking a puff from his dying smoke. When Riza didn't say anything back- no smart remark or sarcastic jilt geared towards the muscular blonde- Havoc sighed knowingly. "What's troubling you, Hawkeye? Did the boss pull something stupid again?"

Riza's eyes shot open, her entire person being taken aback by his inquiries. "I..." She was never at a loss for words. The detective narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How did you know? About us?"

Havoc laughed. "I knew it!" Taking a final draw, he flicked the butt into the wet gutter, the embers dying out in the dark-tarred street. "Hawkeye, I've known you and the boss for as long as I can remember. You two are some of my closest friends. I can tell."

Riza released the breath she didn't realize she was holding, brushing her hair back off her shoulders. "I'd been so confident we were being secret enough, I didn't realize the Detective and I were so obvious."

"I wouldn't say it's obvious," Havoc drew. "But I've noticed the boss has been suspiciously relaxed lately, if you catch my- oof!"

Hawkeye's arm caught him in the right pectoral, a light warning strike. He bit back his snickering as she sighed, the two turning down the street staircase, and heading into the underground bar.

The Fifth Laboratory was a darkened bar, littered with people from every walk of life. Riza silently noted the posh-looking politicians, the dirty men with stained clothing and cuts on their faces, the crowd of everyday workers, fresh from the daily grind. They gathered around tables, glasses in hand, chatting. To her, besides the obvious mingling of social classes, it seemed like an average bar.

"Hey," Havoc shouted above the din, grasping Riza's forearm. "There's that girl I've been telling you about! The one I've been seeing!"

"Havoc, remember, this is a mission," Riza whispered as she was toted through the establishment, the acrid smoke and stench of whiskey.

He ignored her, snagging a bar stool for himself, Hawkeye much preferring to stand at attention beside the oak wood bar. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Havoc smiled through each call. "Solaris!"

A girl at the glassy shelves of liquor whirled around, her black hair swinging around her slender arms. She smiled at Havoc, racing to the wooden counter to meet up with her lover. Leaning over the polished wood, she placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Jean," she sighed happily. "You came to see me at work?"

"I couldn't stay away," he chuckled. "And besides I wanted you to meet my sister."

He thumbed to the blonde standing beside him and 'Solaris' quirked her head. "Jean, you didn't tell me you had a sister," she said uncertainly. Riza frowned. There was something in this woman's dark eyes. Familiarity, recognition; something that made the sling gun on the detective's leg feel much heavier.

Riza reached across the bar, staving the suspicion. "Elizabeth," she introduced.

"Solaris," the ebony-haired woman replied. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you," Riza shook her head. Noticing the dumbstruck look on Havoc's face, she had a not-so-faint feeling the mission was falling upon her shoulders very quickly. She rested a quick hand on Havoc's shoulder. "I'm going to go to the ladies' room."

"Oh, sure," Havoc nodded, scratching his head. "Uh, I'll wait here for you, I guess."

Riza nodded, moving away as quickly from the moonstruck man as she could. All at once, she felt the walls close in on her as well as a gratuitous feeling of over-awareness wash over her. Her eyes scanned the faces of every patron, every drunkard and woman draped in chiffon and man looking to score a good time with a not-so respectable girl. Sharp noses and baggy eyes and plump lips. Shady faces in booths.

She smirked internally. The shadier, the better.

Brushing her hair to one shoulder, she stuck her hands in her pockets, moving as smoothly as possible through the crowd and smoke, finding herself standing before a dark corner booth, two bodies lounging and boozing on the thick red velvet.

The first man, a man with a long black ponytail and two pathetic wisps of hair, barely noticed her, though not out of lack of observance. He was merely ignoring her, uninterested in what a seemingly unimportant woman had to say. He sat back in the booth further, as if trying to distance himself and his tasteless white suit from Riza. The other, however, a man with spiked black hair and a leather vest adorned with white fur and rather raggedly sharpened teeth, looked at her as if she were a meal. The hunger practically shone in his eye.

"Well, hey there, gal," the second man greeted pleasantly. "What brings you to a table like this in a place like this?"

Riza merely smirked, pulling her glasses off the bridge of her nose. For effect, she batted her eyelashes once or twice; after years of this sneaky, undercover world, she found that she wasn't above resorting to using her sex to draw out the idiocy in men.

"I was hoping I could...arrange a little something," she drew. Brandishing her glasses thoughtfully, she tilted her head back and forth. "A little...get together."

The second man grinned ravenously, sliding aside in the booth, dragging his glass with him. "Sounds interesting," he grinned.

She slid into the booth, unraveling her jacket. She had resorted to sporting a maroon dress that had black beads swaying along dark fringes. It was something that her friend, Rebecca, had called a 'flapper' dress, and, in contrast to her light skin, made her out to be what many called a 'sheba.'

The second man whistled. "You've got it, doll."

Riza ignored the urge to smack him upside the head, instead smiling graciously. "So I've been told." Folding her hands, she let out a serious, sultry sigh.

"So what brings you out this far, sweetheart?" the second man asked.

She smirked. "A little birdie told me that I could swing by here and meet a special man."

"Well, hey, I'm a special ma-," the spiky-haired fellow flirtatiously began, only to be silenced by his white-suited companion.

"And who might that be?" he asked, voice leeching death and suspicion.

"A man by the name of Charles Violeta," Riza replied, expecting a certain answer.

"Aw, that guy?" the second man asked, tilting his head. "Yeah, Charles Violeta up and died, didn't ya' hear? It was all over the papers."

Riza feigned a fettered look. "That's a shame. I suppose the books are done then, right?"

"Not necessarily," the first man quelled.

The blonde looked interested. "Really?"

"Yes, we've acquired a new bookie," the white-suited man nodded, folding his hands thoughtfully. "A young woman. Very bright, mathematically speaking."

"Yeah, but street smarts...well she's about as dumb as a door nail," the second man snorted, gulping at his alcohol.

"Do you know where I could find this...?" Riza led.

"Ah ah, not so fast," the first man shushed. "You may know some about books, but you've failed to obtain the correct information, my dear. She's off duty tonight."

Riza masked her face in disappointment. "Well," she huffed, a bit annoyed. "When will she be back?"

The second man grinned. "Every Thursday and Tuesday, the shop's open... Tell you what," he began, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out a thin black book, and, when unfolded, Riza noted the names scrawled out, all of the anagrams that Charles Violeta had kept, plus many more. "You tell me your name and I'll keep you in mind, sweetheart."

"Elizabeth," Riza told him. "Elizabeth Colonel."

"Solf J. Kimblee," the white-suited man introduced, dipping his head.

"G," the spiky-haired fellow stated. "G Thomas."

"Well," Riza nodded, standing and shrugging her jacket over her well-covered back. "Thank you boys. I'll see you around."

"We're counting on it," Kimblee smiled maliciously. "Ms. Colonel."

As she parted from the table, she saw a glint of something in their eyes, the same as she saw in Solaris's: familiarity.

Hugging her jacket tighter around herself, she told Havoc she suddenly felt rather tired and stepped outside as rapidly as she could, dashing home as the air in Amestris chilled the cold sweat on her neck. Her blood was rushing in her veins, the terror of feeling watched crawling like venomous bugs across her skin. Even with these layers, she felt unnecessarily vulnerable.

As she pushed around the corner, leaving the car for Havoc, she bumped the shoulder of a young woman, who instantaneously began to apologize in the most rabid way.

"I-I-I'm so sorry, ma'am! Are you alright?" the young girl quivered.

Riza nodded, huffing the anxiety out of her body. "Yes, I'm alright. Are you, though? You seem a bit shaken up."

"Oh, ha ha," the girl chuckled nervously, adjusting the thick glasses on her nose. "I'm just a little late to an appointment somewhere."

Riza quirked her head. "At this time of night?"

"Well, it's pretty last minute," the girl shrugged, her body shaking as she spoke. Even through the glare the streetlights cast on her glasses, Riza could see the bags under her eyes from lack of sleep.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Y-yes. It's just around the corner. The Fifth Laboratory."

"Oh," Riza nodded quietly. "Well, it was nice meeting you..."

"Sheska," the girl introduced, clutching her scarf tightly at her neck. "M-my name's Sheska."

"Sheska," Riza nodded. After apologizing shortly, the blonde detective turned on her heel, none the wiser to the sinister nature of the business within the Fifth Laboratory.

.Siste.

"There's the lady of the hour," Kimblee grinned, holding his hands out in recognition.

Sheska gulped down the bile in her throat. And here she was, thinking she was out of the woods...

Greed nodded his head, gesturing for her to join the two men in the booth. The spiky-haired man quirked his head as she shivered beside him, her knuckles white as they gripped her scarf around her neck. "What's the matter, Sheska?" Greed hummed, hand weaving up to hold hers. She quickly jerked away, hanging her head. "Feeling a bit jumpy?"

"A drink would remedy that," Kimblee resolved smoothly, waving to the black-haired woman at the bar. "Our associate can take care of that."

Sheska watched through tired eyes as the bartender stroked the face of a muscular blonde man before a drink was brought to the table, the sensual ebony-haired girl swaying her hips as she walked. The glass was placed before the timid young woman, and Sheska couldn't help but notice that all three people at the booth stared at her as if she were food to these people, even as the liquor was poured into her cup.

"Solaris," the bartender introduced.

"Sheska," she replied.

The bartender smirked. "I know very well who you are," she murmured cryptically before tucking the bottle back into her arm.

"W-why'd you call me in?" Sheska ventured as soon as the bartender had sauntered away. "It's not like th-there's anything going on t-tonight, right?"

"True," Kimblee nodded. "But we have a little favor to ask of you Sheska. A little..." He waved his hand in trivial thought. "A little overtime."

"You'll be compensated, of course," Greed added.

Sheska pressed her lips to the glass, taking a tiny sip. It was wine. She set it aside; she had never been much of a fan. "W-what would I..."

"You must understand," Kimblee interrupted. "We're counting on you to do something far beyond book-keeping."

"What would I be doing?"

"We understand that you've been invited to that Hughes fellow's gala. Am I correct?"

Sheska pondered lying to these people, but just looking into the glassy, ravenous eyes of the people who ran this establishment- the face and underside- and she knew better. "Y-yes."

"We'll need you to conceal this," Greed said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small vile of red liquid. Sheska plucked the tube up carefully, watching the redness slosh around inside.

"What...what is it?" she asked, a bit bewildered by its vivid color.

"Philosphorum," Kimblee told her. "It's a highly toxic poison."

Sheska held it closer, squinting at the toxin. "Wh-wh-what would y-you want me to..."

Greed slid a folded slip of paper across the table to her, and she quietly unfurled it, the color in her face disappearing with every passing letter.

"As you can see, it requires a fair amount of, well...courage, and if you're unable to do the job, we'll have to find another," Greed informed her, as lightly as if it were of some personal inconvenience to him.

Sheska crumpled the paper, her anxious nerves finally breaking. All at once, she felt sick to her stomach and strong. "I've seen what you do to people who refuse to comply with you," she said, her voice, for the first time in weeks, even and unwavering. "Father Cornello was no mistake, was he?"

Kimblee's smile, which had momentarily disappeared, rebounded. "No, I suppose if you know what to look for, it wouldn't seem that way, would it? Cronello dug his own grave and deliberately disobeyed the policies of this establishment. Those who tempt us must pay a steep price."

Sheska frowned. "So if I refuse..."

"You will be dealt with as swiftly as the others," Kimblee threatened.

"And if I comply..."

Greed grinned a toothy grin. "Well, then, your allegiance to us is still valid and you'll be protected by the Sins." He slung his arm around her tiny frame. "You'll live to see another day."

Sheska grimaced still. But what about after that? How long will they own me? she thought bitterly.

In a swift, desperate motion to get away, she thrust the tube into her pocket and pushed away from Greed's hold, hurrying to find solace somewhere else.

How long will I be their slave?


Oi vey, sorry about these stupid breaks in between each chapter. I pulled a dumb move and started another story while doing this one and, well, I kind of got jumbled. -_-

Thanks for reading and reviewing and adding and what not. It makes my week knowing people are reading and if you have any feedback or guesses I'd love to hear them!

Peace, L.