A/N: Guess who's back! Yes, me.

So… 'I'm sorry' is really all I can say. I could give you sob-story of how my time was eaten by exams, followed by the demands of my job, and then computer problems, but I won't. I could also explain how awful my writer's block for this one part was, defend my laziness, or how my times I re-wrote this. But I won't. You don't want to hear that, do you? I will finish this, I promise. I hate leaving things half-done.

Huge, incredibly grateful thanks to both thundaarwoman and abcsinging123. They really made me step up my game and just bloody get this finished! Thanks so much!

~InkRoze

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, but I do own my OCs, and my characterisation of Selim. Now, I've been told that these disclaimers don't mean a thing, and are just a waste of space, but… I don't know… I rather be safe than sorry?

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"No one thinks of how much blood it costs."

- Dante Alighieri

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The three gang men stopped short as they entered the car, taking in the scene of the four teenagers, and, most importantly, their injured or unconscious comrades.

"Matthews! Knight!" The men rushed to their sides, and one with stylish glasses- unusual for a gang man, in Kate's opinion- crouched down to check their pulses.

"They're alive. Barely," he stated, before standing to face the teenagers, his face a mask of rage. By then, Kate was already in the air. She slammed full-force into the closest thug, sending him flying. Glasses, as Kate referred to him in her mind, jerked backward, avoiding her next hit. Her right fist slammed into the train car's metal wall, leaving a vicious dent. The Armstrong gritted her teeth. Her entire arm throbbed. Ow. I put way too much force behind that, she thought, irritated, and turned on Glasses again. He side-stepped her left-handed swing, and was knocked slightly off-balance by the sway of the train. Jack rushed forward to assist her best friend, and with a quick, sharp movement, pistol-whipped Glasses on the side of his head before he could recover. He crumpled to the ground, stunned, his glasses cracked.

The remaining two men, including the one Kate had body-checked into the train car door, attacked in unison, one with brass knuckles, and one with a sawn-off shotgun. Jack ducked the first man- Knuckles, as Kate dubbed him- intent on stopping the gunman. She fired twice, sending the gun spinning out of his hands. Asher sprang after him, fists raised. The Mustang was so focused on the gun, that she didn't see Knuckles lunge for her. Selim, who had been debating whether to jump in and help or not, was already rushing forward.

"Miss Mustang!" he called, yanking her back by her shoulder with his good arm, and throwing off her aim. The bullet intended to aid Asher in debilitating the gunman went through the ceiling, but Knuckles missed his swing. The gang man paused, after Selim's words sank in, his fist half-pulled back to ready another punch.

"Mustang?" the hijacker echoed, shocked, "Like the Fuhrer Mustang?" Kate took advantage of his confusion and knocked him out with a quick, powerful chop to the temple. Meanwhile, Asher swiped at the now unarmed gang man with his knuckle blades. The thug kept dodging backward, avoiding each swipe. Asher grimaced. He really, really hated to use force.

"How unprofessional," Asher muttered under his breath, before rushing forward faster than the man could dodge. Knuckles went down, a huge gash across his chest. The wound wasn't deep, but Asher knew from experience that it was immobilising. The gang man fell to his knees, gasping and clutching at the cut, as if he were trying to hold in his own blood. Kate looked uncomfortable as she mercifully knocked him out, while Asher remained impassive. She wasn't exactly thrilled about the level of violence, no matter how much she may love fighting or threatening people. The Armstrong was all bark, no bite, for the most part. But when she glanced around at the others, she seemed to be the only one who was bothered, so she held her tongue. Meanwhile, Selim glanced down at Jack to see her glaring at him. He blinked in surprise. Hadn't he just saved her from being bludgeoned to death?

"Selim," Jack growled, "Safety tip: do not pull me around when I'm firing."

"But I-"

"Jack," Kate interrupted quietly before Selim could protest, "That guy knew you were the Fuhrer's daughter." Jack cringed, and looked up at both Selim and Asher.

"Maybe we shouldn't say my name in front of people? It'll attract unwanted attention. Trust me, being the Fuhrer's daughter will just paint targets on our backs. Please just call me Jack?" she pleaded, mentally grinning at the sound reasoning. Now they would have to call her Jack.

"Alright," Asher conceded, seeing sense in the statement, but Selim frowned.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Is Miss Jacqueline alright, instead?" the Bradley asked. Jack turned on him.

"No!" she yelled, horrified. Then she stopped, noticing the way Selim's purple eyes were shining with humour. Or evil; she couldn't quite tell. Jack's head spun with the possibility of being called Jacqueline for the rest of the trip.

"Ah! No, no, no!" she protested, as Kate giggled. Jack glared at Selim.

"If you keep calling me that, I will personally-"

"I'll kill you, you brats!" It was Glasses. How in the world did he recover so quickly? Kate wondered. Jack had hit him pretty hard. Holding his left eye, Glasses scrambled out the door, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs before anyone could react.

"Catch him!" Kate shouted, chasing after the escaped gang member.

"Armstrong, you idiot," Asher muttered. He shot a quick glance at Jack before rushing after the impulsive blonde. Selim made to follow, but winced as his shoulder throbbed especially painfully. The action didn't go unnoticed by Jack. She frowned, and held out a hand to stop him.

"Stay put, Selim. We'll be back as soon as we take care of the others," Jack told him, and left, following closely behind Kate and Asher. Selim mentally scoffed, but decided to follow her order. He leaned against the train wall with his good arm, and shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain from his wound. The burning sensation was fading, but it left behind a deep ache.

Selim frowned as time continued to pass without any sign of Jack or Asher, and he began to resent being left behind. It wasn't as if he were helpless, even while injured; but the longer it took for the others to realise that he wasn't exactly normal, the better. He was so focused on this thoughts, that he didn't notice the footsteps until they stopped a few feet away.

"Hey! You! You're with them, aren't you?" called a gruff voice. Selim faced the gun and the man holding it with a calm, unconcerned movement. Jack and the others must have missed this one. The Bradley's dark purple eyes lazily flicked from the man's gun to his black snake tattoo. Three diamonds.

"And if I were with them?" Selim replied. The gang member growled. This young man's unconcerned aura angered him. In his opinion, someone on the business end of a gun should be suitably terrified.

"It's because of you that my brother is dead!" the man shouted, his grip tightening as the pain of losing Knox began to set in. Selim raised an eyebrow, and the tension rose.

"Because of me? I assure you, I haven't done much of anything," he stated flatly. Unfortunately.

"But you're with them!" the man hissed, his slate-blue eyes hardening. "Who are you to them, then? Brother? Boyfriend? Cousin? Let's see how they like it, when someone they care about is murdered in cold blood." Selim's eyes widened, and he backed up a step. But where could he go? The man was nearly at point-blank range. The grief-stricken gang member gritted his teeth, and with a hateful growl, pulled the trigger.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Jack shut the car door behind her, leaving Selim alone. She knew he wasn't happy at being left behind, but it wasn't like they had a choice; he was injured, and would only slow them down. Her soldier's mentality was harsh at times, she knew, but necessary. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Jack picked up her pace to follow Asher more closely. He and Kate had already subdued Glasses, but not before his shouting had attracted unwanted attention. Two thugs stood in their way, while one disappeared toward the front of the train. Jack drew her M9 pistol and gritted her teeth. The entire situation was spiralling further and further out of control. They had to do something before they were overwhelmed completely.

"Jack, Kate," Asher called, dodging the gang man's heavy chain, "We need to get to the front of the train, and help the rest of the passengers. We've been through most of the passenger cars, and I haven't seen a sign of anyone other than members of the gang. They must be keeping the rest of the civilians somewhere."

"Alright," Jack agreed, ducking under the swinging chain. Kate jumped up, using her friend's back as a springboard, and snatched the end of the heavy chain in mid-swing. She hit the floor next to Jack, her feet planted solidly. With a savage yank, Kate swung the chain and the 200 pounds of thug attached to it into the side of the train. He crumpled to the floor in an unconscious heap, leaving a sizable dent in the steel wall.

"Ow! Kate!" Jack complained, trying to rub the dirty boot mark off of her jacket. "You're heavy!"

"Callin' me fat? Thanks, Jacqueline," Kate snapped dryly. Jack twitched at her full name.

"You brat!" she growled.

"You deserved it."

"Well, so did you."

"Love you too, Jackie." Asher cleared his throat, not quite sure what to do otherwise.

"Not that this isn't a fascinating conversation, but we should really get going," he muttered, and started walking away. Jack and Kate glared at each other, before following closely behind him. He led them through a seemingly endless amount of empty cars. Just how big is this train? Kate wondered, stepping over the body of one of the staff. A conductor, by the uniform. He had been shot recently, and was still bleeding, with a surprised look plastered on his pale face. She tried not to look. Another staff member- this time an engineer, from his coveralls and coal-dusted features- lay a few feet to the left, slumped against the train wall. He was breathing, but out cold, a large bruise marring his left temple. She was about to go over to him, when an angry shout jerked the blonde's attention to the front of the train car. The voice came from behind a steel door with striped, yellow and black caution tape painted around it. Kate frowned. That door must have been the entrance to the locomotive, which meant the last of the gang men and the rest of the passengers had to be inside.

Asher turned to Jack for a second, motioning for her to go ahead of him. The Mustang obeyed, glancing at Kate from the corner of her eye to make sure she wasn't lagging behind. The brunette paused in her step for a moment, noticing how readily she followed Asher's silent order. He seemed to know what he was doing, he was confident, and- according to her father- had more than enough experience in the field. The soldier in her unconsciously accepted him as "commander", and she followed his orders without a second thought. Frowning a little at this new discovery, Jack crept up to the door, and, with a quiet breath, yanked it open.

The entire car froze.

Jack analysed the situation in the few short seconds before the occupants reacted.

Passengers: three, all male, between 15 and 30 years of age. Huddled in a group in the corner to her right.
Enemies: two, identified by their purple headbands; one at the controls of the train, and one keeping a gun on the passengers, while watching an engineer shovel coal into the locomotive's engine. Both armed.
Possible allies: one; the engineer at the front of the train, shovelling coal.
Escape routes: none.

All eyes locked on Jack, and all weapons began to swing toward her. Jack managed only two shots before she quickly retreated; both aimed to incapacitate the man holding a gun on the passengers. The bullets hit their target, one through his trigger hand, and one in his leg. Screams- the gang man's, the engineer's, and the passengers'- tore through the small space as the hostages flinched back in horror, the gang man's blood spattering across the people nearest to him. Jack quickly ducked behind the heavy door as the only remaining gun barrel was trained on her. Crouching down, she made herself as small a target as possible, wincing as a bullet slammed into the metal. The door was thick enough to shield her from bullets for now, but not if the gang man pursued her.

"Jack!" Kate hissed over the sound of the engine, "You alright?" Both she and the alchemist had taken cover on opposite sides of the door as soon as the shooting started.

"I'm fine, Kate. You and Asher take care of the hostages, and I'll take the last one." Both nodded. Jack took in a deep breath, motioned to Kate and Asher, and threw the door open with a loud bang. Jack went for shock and awe tactics, trying to draw the attention to herself, and give Kate and Asher a chance to bypass any gunfire. In hindsight, this wasn't the smartest thing she could have done. At top speed, she went right for the gunman, taking him by surprise, with Asher and Kate close behind. She fired at his hands, but her gun only clicked uselessly.

No ammo.

What? How many bullets had she used? Certainly not all fifteen! She was supposed to be able to tell the difference between when guns were loaded and not; she had done it thousands of times in practice. How could she have missed it? Jack paled, as the gang man took aim. Desperately, she dropped the gun as if it were on alchemically created fire, and reached to her waistband for her spare. Her fingers closed around the handle of her second M9, while his finger tightened on the trigger. Something whipped past her, and slammed into the gunman. A stream of blood erupted from his chest as he choked, his eyes wide in shock. Embedded in his skin, visible through his now torn shirt, was one of Asher's knuckle blades. He fell back, gasping and clutching at his chest. He passed out from the shock and pain soon after. Kate went to check the man's pulse, while Jack sighed in relief, her fingers loosening around her gun. Kate gave her an over-the-shoulder thumbs up, signalling that the man was alive, and Jack turned to grin at the alchemist in thanks. He just nodded, and crouched down in front of the man to retrieve his blade and help stop the bleeding. Out of the corner of his eye, Asher noticed movement from behind Jack, and turned toward her. His crimson eyes widened.

"Look out!" the alchemist warned, his hand outstretched as if to pull her to safety, but he was too late. A steel-strong arm circled Jack's neck, cutting off a good portion of her air intake, and pulled her to a skinny chest.

Jack had made a mistake. There weren't two gang men in the car. There were three.

Jack struggled against his grip, gasping for air. She was facing away from the passengers, and toward both Kate and Asher. Where had he been hiding? Jack's best guess was that he'd been standing or sitting right next to the door. She wouldn't have noticed his small frame in all the confusion, as he crept up on her. But why hadn't he just shot her? He jabbed a gun into her temple, the cool metal seeming to sear her skin.

Oh. That was why.

"Ar'righ'! No one move. Wea'ons on the f'oor," the gang member demanded, his voice oddly slurred, as if he had a terrible lisp. Kate could barely understand him. He was short- only a few inches taller than Jack- and thin, but incredibly strong to keep a struggling Jack in place. As she examined him more closely, Kate realised that his jaw sat at an odd angle. He must have had it broken before, and it set badly, causing his speech impediment. Asher did has he was told, and let go of his blades, his hands in the air.

The engineer didn't.

An unassuming, blonde, soot-covered man in his forties, the engineer had been standing mostly unnoticed through the entire debacle, and had decided that holding a little girl hostage was the last straw. He raised his shovel over his head, and with a yell, charged his captor.

"No!" Kate yelled, her eyes wide with horror. The gang man whipped around toward him, and fired at his chest. Once. Twice. Three times. The engineer kept coming, despite the force of three bullets in his chest. He made it a few more steps, before the shovel clattered to the ground. His knees buckled and he slid to the floor, only a foot from the gang man, his open brown eyes sightless. Kate covered her mouth with her hands, tears pricking her eyes. Even Asher looked a little green, very noticeable on his dark skin. Jack's vision blurred, and she struggled more viciously, biting and scratching and reaching for her gun. The gang man cuffed her on the back of the head, and she froze, stunned.

"Tha'th a enouth ou' of you!" he growled. Enraged for both Jack and the nameless engineer, Kate glanced at Asher, and took a small step forward, testing the waters. Sure enough, the man tightened his grip on Jack and pressed his handgun to her temple.

"You thay pu', blonthie!" the man demanded. "Don' make' 'e ki' you thoo!" He turned back to address the captured passengers, but kept both Kate and Asher in his range of vision. "A'righ', I haf' a hoth'age now. Tell me whi'th one of you is Ja'on Ro'h, or I ki' the gir'! I know ih' one o' you!" Asher scanned the passengers, his calculating eyes sorting through their horror-struck faces. One blonde, about 30 years of age, with wide grey eyes, and one teenager with black hair and narrow black eyes. Both were terrified. The remaining hostage looked about eighteen or nineteen, with dark, wavy brown hair in a short ponytail and shocking blue eyes that were clear, and unafraid. Asher couldn't make out any more details while the young man was crouching. The half-Ishvalan locked eyes with the captive, and an understanding passed between them. Asher saw him shift his weight to the balls of his feet. Kate's eyes flicked over to the passengers, having witnessed the entire exchange.

"Go for the jaw," she muttered, looking away. The gang man swivelled toward her, his eyes narrowed, and his back to the passengers. Perfect.

"Wha' wath' tha'-?" he began, but was never allowed to finish. The blue-eyed passenger rose up behind the thug, his long black coat trailing after him. A gray-gloved fist slammed into the gang man's jaw, an audible, sickening crack filling the room. The thug screamed, and dropped Jack to hold his broken jaw. The Mustang fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for breath. No one moved; all eyes were riveted on the now injured gang member. The occupants of the engine room were wary and unwilling to move; regarding the furious man with the same mentality as one would a caged beast. Blood trickled from his mouth and tears streaked his face, but he never let go of his gun. Letting out an agonised howl, his mouth hanging open at a grotesque angle, the man began to aim his gun at the bold passenger, his enraged expression spelling death. The young man's eyes narrowed. He took a step backward…

And tripped over the tail of his coat.

The gun went off just as the passenger fell head over heels, the bullet missing him by a mere hair-length.

"Ouch!" the young man exclaimed. His voice was clear and on the higher side, but that was possibly due to surprise. The wounded gang man made to tear the passenger apart with his bare hands, but by then, Kate was on him. She aimed a vicious kick at his left kneecap, shattering the bone, followed by an uppercut to the solar plexus, and two harsh claps to either temple. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he crashed to the floor, his upper body falling across the downed passenger, and forcing the young man back to the ground. Kate nodded to herself and dusted off her hands.

"Double ouch!" the blue-eyed stranger chirped, sounding oddly cheerful. "Could someone please help me up?" Kate ignored him in favour of Jack, who was still breathing hard. She crouched down in front of her best friend.

"Jackie! You alright?" the blonde called.

"Y… Yes!" Asher, after helping the young man to his feet, noticed Jack's second of hesitation.

"Are you sure?" he inquired shortly. She nodded cheerfully.

"I'm alright!" Jack smiled at him, but Asher noticed her shaking hands. He hadn't known her for long. Only a few days at best, but even he could see through the mask she attempted to hide behind. She was shaken, and probably still a little scared, despite her ingrained soldier's façade. He was about to ask again, when the sound of a gunshot echoed through the train. Jack whipped around, her mind automatically filling in the gun's size, make, and distance. The noise had come from a few cars back. Selim! she thought anxiously. He's back there by himself, and injured. She scrambled through the train cars, ignoring Kate's shout of surprise. Pulling her loaded gun from her waistband, Jack sprinted to the car, and slid to a stop in front of the entrance. She slowly opened the train car door, scared of what she would find. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Well, you certainly took your time." Selim was dusting off his suit with his good hand, seemingly unruffled. What about the gunshot? Her eyes were immediately drawn to a body on the floor. It was the missing gang member! He was holding a gun, the same type she had heard being fired, with a pool of blood spreading around him. Jack knew, without a doubt, that the man was dead. She glanced up at Selim, who was giving her an odd look.

"Are you alright, Miss Jacqueline?" Jack resisted flinching at her full name. She would never get used to it.

"Sh-shouldn't I be asking you that question? What happened?" she demanded. Selim's eyes flicked from her face, to the body, and back again.

"He missed. The ricochet caught him in the chest, I'm afraid."

"For just being shot at, you don't seem to be very alarmed."

"He missed," Selim reminded her. Jack frowned at him; something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't place the cause of the feeling.

"Why did he even shoot you in the first place? Did you make him angry?"

"Apparently, the man that Asher more or less pushed off the train was his brother." Jack's eyes softened.

"I see," she said quietly. Then she drew herself up. "Well, as long as you're alright, we should get back. We have the others tied up in the front car." Selim nodded, and followed her. He let out a quiet breath, thankful she hadn't suspected anything. If she had examined the scene more closely, Jack would have noticed that the wound had not been made by a bullet, even though it looked very similar. She was a gun expert, after all. The ricochet killed him? It was ridiculous. The trajectory was completely wrong due to the angle of the wall, and there wasn't even a mark where the bullet should have bounced back. He had been extremely lucky with that one. Selim silently thanked whoever might be listening that he was adept at lying through his teeth.

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A/N: And there you have it. Please leave a review! It makes me work faster. You may think it doesn't, but I promise; it really does.