A/N: I know the last chapter was a cliffhanger, and since I hate cliffhangers, I tried to get this chapter out as quick as I could. I think I can officially declare that I should be wrapping this up by the end of Ch 16 . . . maybe. There's no telling with me, really. Writing is my addiction, after all, I may start throwing out twists and turns out of sheer bloody-minded stubbornness. Probably not, though.
Special thanks to nately on AO3 for the chapter 13 art (and for all the great comments). Seriously, that picture is entirely too adorable! I can't thank you enough. You kick ass!
Chapter 14
Pigs Really Can Fly
"Say what?" demanded Roy and Paninya at the same time, both of them all but running over to where Ed was standing.
"Al, just grab your shit and get the hell out of there. Come over here where there are witnesses and bright lights and we'll call the cops. After that, we'll figure out our next move once you've had a chance to calm down. We need to handle this rationally, and if you're panicking you're definitely not being rational. All right?" Ed was saying, using the calm, soothing tone of a parent quieting their child. "No more dithering. Pack your stuff. Get in the van. Come to the diner. In that order." He hung up his phone and then, with a look of extreme disgust, dialed a number and hit the call button. He didn't get an answer, so he tried again and again. After the fifth call with no response, he let out an annoyed sound and went through the kitchen door. He returned with his laptop bag and set his laptop on the counter, typing furiously.
"What's going on?" asked Roy carefully.
"When Al got back to the hotel, the room had been tossed, and Hohenheim was gone," began Ed distractedly. "His stuff's still there, but he's gone along with his notebook. Thankfully, none of his more dangerous notes are in that notebook – as far as I know. I'm trying to ping his phone and see if I can use it to track him. I doubt it'll do any good. If these assholes know what they're doing at all, they'll have ditched the phone already. But if it's at least turned on still, I can track the phone's location and that could tell us where they were when they ditched it then I can use that information to give us a rough direction they could have been headed in. If the phone's dead, I can track the phone's signal retroactively to get its last known coordinates before it died."
"Damn, look at you in super spy mode!" marveled Paninya.
"Once I have a direction, I might be able to use current data and standard criminal behavior patterns to extrapolate a possible destination," continued Ed as if he hadn't heard her. "But I may need to expand my current data set before I can reach a provable conclusion. I'll also need to work on a plan of attack, which may or may not have anything at all to do with Hohenheim's location. It may not be possible to take him back directly. We may have to go to the root of the problem, cut a deal or maybe . . . I don't know. I just know that the first step is to secure my brother, make those closest to us aware of the danger, call the police to report the break-in and possible kidnapping then call in our own posse to start working on our strategy. To be blunt, the police won't even be able to file Hohenheim as missing for 48 hours, but in this game those 48 hours will be crucial. We can't afford to wait for the cops to get their thumbs out of their asses."
"Speaking of which," said Roy brightly, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed the old familiar number then waited while it rang.
"Thank you for calling Christmas, how may I assist you?" greeted a smoky voice on the other line.
"Hey Vanessa, it's Roy," said Roy, smiling to himself when the woman let out an excited squeal. The girls who worked for his Aunt Chris had always been like big sisters to him, and since he hadn't been home in ages, they all missed him. "Is Madame available?"
"Of course, I'll go get her," said Vanessa, her cheerful tone vastly different from the one with which she'd answered the phone. He could hear the phone being set down then the sound of a door closing in the distance. By the time his Aunt Chris had picked up the phone, Al had arrived at the diner to be greeted by hug from a relieved yet still worried Ed.
"Roy-boy, what can I do for you?" said Chris in her usual languorous tone.
"Our new friends have upped the ante," Roy told her, keeping his tone conversational. "We're trying to decide whether to take the bet or propose a gamble of our own. If we take the bet and lose, the debt may be more than we can pay. Even if we change the game, the stakes will no doubt remain the same. What I need to know now is how many players will be splitting the pot. We already know the main players, at least. I want to know who might just be playing to make a few bucks. Also, we need to know where they're planning to hold the game."
"I'll see what I can do," said Chris after a pause that had lasted long enough to make Roy nervous. "Just watch your ass kid. Oh, and bring that little blonde by to meet me sometime. Your boy Maes says he's a looker."
"Better yet, why don't you just come by for dinner?" suggested Roy in return, smiling to himself again. "You haven't been by the house in a while, and Ed makes a mean dessert."
"Interesting," said Chris, sounding as if she had taken more from the casual compliment than what was said aloud. Chris Mustang was clever as they came, and she could see a thousand meanings in a single word and entirely analyzed everything about a man after a single phrase. It had made getting away with anything as a kid the epitome of impossible. Sherlock Holmes had nothing on Chris Mustang. "I might take you up on that. I'll call to let you know when. I might even bring a present."
"Thanks, Madame," said Roy – not even Roy got to call her "Chris" while she was at work – and with a small derisive snort Chris hung up. Roy pocketed his phone and walked over to where Ed and Al were conferring quietly. Al was sitting on one of the stools, Ed was standing behind him with an arm around his shoulders to comfort him. Ed may not care much what happened to Hohenheim, but he would do anything for his brother, even save the father he hated. "I just spoke with my Aunt Chris. She has more contacts above and below board than the CIA. If anybody can get us the answers we need, it would be her. She may even be able to find out where they've taken him, or at least narrow the possibilities. In the meantime, we need to figure out a game plan. Rescuing Hohenheim won't mean a thing if we can't neutralize the threat Ouroboros poses."
"I might have some ideas for how to take care of that, but I'll need to do a little research first," said Ed pensively. "We need to call the rest of your knitting circle, and I mean the whole crew, and start brainstorming. Also, we need to call the cops and make them aware of the situation. They may not be able to actually classify it as a missing persons case for 48 hours, but at the very least we need to inform them that the situation has changed."
"I'll take care of calling the crew. It'd be better if you or Al were the ones to call the cops," suggested Roy and Ed nodded curtly, his face clearly showing his displeasure. No doubt he was getting as tired of dealing with the police as Roy. "But why do we need to call in the whole crew? I can understand calling Maes and Riza, since they've been helping us with this from the start, but why everybody else?"
"Because I need to pick their brains," replied Ed absently. "Al, call Winry and Teacher, please. We'll need them too."
"Sure, Ed," replied Al with a heavy sigh. Their huddle broke so they could make their phones calls – and so Ed could check on his only two tables, both of which were occupied by studying students who'd only ordered coffee.
After they all finished their phone calls, Al and Roy settled into Roy's abandoned booth to await the police's arrival. Ed sat with them between customers, mostly just to check on some mysterious program he had running on his laptop – and to throw out glib comments to cheer up his brother. Al had his own laptop out, distracting himself by working on the assignments for the classes he'd been missing. Roy did much the same, slogging through his own assignments and transcribing his notes from the classes he'd had that day.
When the cops finally showed, it wasn't the uniformed officers they'd been getting so far. This time it was a pair of detectives, both dressed in cheap suits – the younger one at least moderately more fashionable than the other. The detectives introduced themselves in the contrived polite tone of people who had grown used to dealing with primarily uncooperative or confrontational responses. Ed joined their table again, and the detectives got all the hostility they could wish for with him, but he made up for it by bringing them coffee. Al moved so that he was sitting on the same side of the booth as Roy so that the detectives could sit opposite them. Ed just brought over a chair and sat at the end of the table.
"So, would you guys mind getting us up to speed? We were just handed this case a few minutes ago and haven't had a chance to go over everything yet," said the younger of the two detectives, Detective Roach. "I've been told this newest development is an escalation on the vandalism and break-ins."
Ed sighed and ran a hand through his bangs before explaining the whole miserable sequence of events, starting with the destruction of his lab and office then moving on to his stint as Bruce Lee and culminating in the phone call from Al about their father's disappearance. He then went on to reveal more than he had told to the officers who had originally been on the scene for the break-ins. In particular, he told them his speculations regarding the source of these attacks and the reason behind them. Roy noted, however, that the only things he told them were those things which they would already have on record – such as the release of Frank Archer – or which would be public record – such as the physics paper that had first brought the brothers to Archer's attention.
He also said something which Roy hadn't yet been aware of, and which both shocked and infuriated him to hear. He wasn't angry at Ed for keeping it to himself – well, maybe a little miffed – but he was definitely angry at Archer for what he'd done. "He's tried these tactics before, and worse," Ed explained. "He harassed us and our neighbors, tried to intimidate our friends, trashed our family home and what little memorabilia we had left of our family from when it was whole, and tried to hurt my brother and me."
"They didn't just try to hurt us. They did hurt us. Well, they hurt Ed. They sent people to attack Ed on his way back to the house from the market," clarified Al, and Ed turned a heated glare toward him. "Don't give me that look. I know it's not provable in a court of law, but you and I both know it was them. They put you in the hospitable Ed! They put a twelve-year-old kid in the hospital for not giving them what they wanted! They even destroyed your automail! They're monsters, and you won't ever convince me to keep that to myself, no matter how hard you glare."
"Hush, Al, it was a long time ago," said Ed in a comforting tone, one hand on his brother's shoulder. "I made it out all right, so just let it go for now."
"As soon as Ed got out of the hospital, we took steps to throw them off our trail and went into hiding with our Teacher," Al told the detectives, and though he seemed outwardly calm, his eyes flashed menacingly. "Our Teacher was a friend of our father, so she and her husband took us in, taught us how to hide, how to survive, helped us change our names, all so we could get away from these guys. Now, they've found us again, and they're up to the same tricks as last time all because they want Ed to take over our father's abandoned research."
"But now that they have the real thing, this could go one of two ways," said Ed as if he was thinking out loud. "Either Hohenheim gives them what they want, or he tells them to fuck off and gets used as a hostage so that I give them what they want. Either way, leaving that bastard sperm donor in their hands is a bad fucking move. It will not end well for anybody."
"And just what is it that they want from him that's so dangerous?" asked the older detective, Detective Murry. "What was he researching?"
"What he was researching was energy, but what he inadvertently created was a weapon of mass destruction," Al told them quietly.
"Ouroboros is, first and foremost, a weapons developer. Imagine what they could gain by owning a patent on the new generation of city killer," said Ed flatly.
"And you'd be able to do that? Just pick up your father's research and finish what he started?" asked Detective Roach. The brothers exchanged a startled look then they both, at the same time, burst out laughing.
"Sir, my brother could have done something like at the age of twelve," said Al as if almost pitying the detectives for their ignorance. "He's twenty-two now. How much more do you think he's capable of now that he's had ten years to study?"
"But, you have to admit, I've been trying to stay away from physics as much as possible," said Ed, getting a little self-conscious.
"Don't give me that, Brother," snorted Al. "You study it in your spare time when you think no one's looking. Or did you think it was normal to have a BS by the age of 18, a Masters by the age of 20, and most of a PhD by 22? Face it Brother, you're a big enough nerd that you can eat other geniuses for breakfast and pick your teeth with normal scientists. Even if you hadn't been studying physics on the sly, it's still your first love. It wouldn't take much effort for you to figure it out."
"You're not much better, so don't give me any shit," grumbled Ed uncomfortably. Al laughed and patted his brother's shoulder manfully.
"The point I'm making is that, yes, my brother can easily give them what they want," said Al as if pointing out the obvious. "The problem is that he would never do that, no matter who they held hostage. Brother's research has always been geared towards helping people. He'd never in a million years create anything that might hurt others. He'd rather die first – literally. I haven't had much contact with my father until very recently, so I don't know which way he'd jump. But he and Ed are alike enough that it's possible he'd rather give up his life than be forced to create a weapon that kills thousands."
"Alphonse, I'm going to pretend I did not just hear you equate me with that man," said Ed in a very low, very dangerous voice, and he had said "that man" like he was referring to a particularly virulent and ugly STD.
"I take it then that you don't get along with your father," said Detective Roach, trying to sound compassionate.
"I don't have a problem with him, but then again I never really knew him until now," replied Al with a helpless shrug. "He left when I was too young to remember. It's Ed that remembers him from back then. Ed hates him. I, at least, can understand why Dad left. He wanted to protect his family. I know he did it because he loved us and wanted us to be safe."
"Bullshit," hissed Ed, eyes flashing with that unquenchable rage he saved only for Hohenheim.
"Ed, I don't think now is the time to rehash that argument," said Al, carefully neutral.
"He was protecting himself," insisted Ed furiously. "He was saving himself from making the hard choices. He abandoned us without a backward glance because it kept him safe. If he'd really wanted to protect his family, he'd have taken us with him. He'd have come back to get you and me after the accident. He'd have at least come back for mom's funeral or to settle the hospital bills. But no, I was the one who had to approve all of mom's funeral arrangements. I was the one who had to find the life insurance policy that paid for your hospital care. I was the one who visited you every day while you were in a coma. I was nine years old and going through some of the most hellish pain of my life, and I did it alone, but I still had enough sense of responsibility to fucking be there. I at least loved you enough to be there. I've always done what was right by our family. I've never complained about it. I've never shirked it. I don't regret it for single fucking minute. But I was a child, and even I knew more about what it means to be a man than he ever will. So yes, I hate him. And no, I will not forgive him. But I will do what I have to do for my family, and . . . and if what you really want is that asshole in your life, I'll do what it takes to make it happen. That's what family does. Ask him sometime if he's ever once done the same." Ed shoved his chair back and got to his feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on my tables."
"Forgive him, he may hate our dad, but he would never do anything to hurt him," Al reassured the detectives, his gaze trailing after his brother. "He'd have to be willing to be in the same room with him first, and Brother would rather eat broken glass with a vinegar chaser. Besides, Ed's had his hands full just keeping up with two jobs, class time, and lab time, while also dealing with these break-ins. Then dad showed back up, and now this . . . he's not always the most reasonable guy, and recently he's been less reasonable than usual. It's only fair. And of course, Ed and I had a fight the same day as the last break-in – you know, the attack at Roy's house. Wow, was it really only yesterday?"
"What did you fight about?" asked Detective Murry, and Al squirmed, ducking his head as his cheeks turned bright red.
"Well, you see, I've been sort of . . . skipping school so I could spend time with Dad," began Al uncomfortably. "Ed found out because Ed is down as a secondary contact for my teachers in case they can't reach me. Ed's the one who got me my scholarship, and he pays for all the expenses the scholarship doesn't cover. So, he was understandably upset about me skipping. And also, there's the issue with Dad. Because Dad keeps saying he really needs to talk to Edward, but Ed wants nothing to do with him. I got mad, and Ed was already mad. In the heat of the moment I said some things I really regret . . . and I also hit him. That bruise on his jaw isn't from the last night's attack. It's from me. Those guys who broke in never laid a finger on Ed. He's too well-trained. We both are. The same night of the break-in, Dad and I were also attacked. I took care of those guys, but I couldn't really stick around to make a statement to the police because I had found out Ed had gotten into some trouble too, so I needed to rush right over."
"How'd you find out your brother was in trouble?" asked Detective Murry.
"Ed and I have signals to indicate to each other that something's wrong," explained Al with a shrug. "There're different signals for different things. Like, if Ed's out on a date and the guy turns out to be some sort of psycho, or if Ed gets another stalker problem like we had last year, Ed can send me a signal. As soon as I get that, I know to drop what I'm doing and go pick him up, wherever he is. We can also signal things like fights, health issues for ourselves or for friends, and even public transportation issues. Last night, I sent Ed the signal for a major fight and the warning that trouble might be heading his way. If everything was fine on his end, he would have sent the 'all clear' signal back then tried to come to meet me. But there was no response. Usually, for a warning like that, if there's no response within a given timeframe, we know that the other is already in trouble. In such an instance, the next step is to attempt to rendezvous as quickly as possible so we can double our firepower, so to speak."
"You make it sound almost like military operations," said Detective Roach in an expectant tone, like he was suspecting that the Elrics might be more than just two hapless victims.
"Our Teacher taught us how to tackle problems the same way we would handle complex equations," Al told them with a bit of pride creeping into his expression. "We use logic, predetermined steps, and rational examination of all expressed parameters including variables and outliers. We look at the issue, determine what needs to be done to reach a solution, and take steps based on given rules. We're scientists. Logic comes easy to us. Ed will still act outside of the rules if he deems it necessary, but in the end he still sticks to the basic steps required to reach the most likely favorable solution. Speaking of which . . ." Al turned away from the detectives, leaning out to call across the restaurant, "Ed, the mapping is done."
"Awesome, I'll be right there," replied Ed. He finished scribbling in his order book then placed a ticket in the kitchen window before returning to the table and turning his laptop toward him again. He typed something in then leaned close to the monitor, squinting a bit.
"Brother, where are your reading glasses?" asked Al in an undertone. Ed looked like he wanted to argue, but then he sighed and hung his head in defeat.
"In my laptop bag," he admitted, and Al dug into his brother's bag before pulling out a black glasses case which he handed to his brother. Ed sighed again as he slipped his glasses on. Roy would never get over just how adorable he looked with those glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose – nor how eerily like his father he looked. "Not a word Roy. Not one word," growled Ed as if reading his mind. He looked up at the detectives, scowling a bit but also looking somewhat nervous. "I'm going to show you something that will help you with this case, but you have to swear you won't arrest me for it first."
"That depends on what it," said Detective Roach with a warning in his voice. "If it's something that can implicate you as being involved in serious criminal activity then we can't overlook it."
"Fair enough," said Ed with a shrug. "It's not that serious though. All I did was break a few federal statutes to hack into something I shouldn't have, but I did it for a really good reason." He turned the laptop around to show the detectives the monitor. "This is a map of the area surrounding the hotel which was the last reported location of the asshole. That red dot is his cell phone, and you can see the timestamp at the bottom of the screen." Ed hit the enter key. "This shows the path the kidnappers took when they left the hotel, following them until the point where the cell signal went dark. I assume they smashed it or removed the battery. Even if it was only turned off, I could have still tracked it. The fact that I can't track it means that it's completely dead one way or another. And if you watch the timestamp, you can see the exact time of the attack. Plus, if I put in the a few extra variables," Ed turned the laptop and typed a bit more then turned it toward the detectives again. "I can show you the timetable for tonight's events. You can see the time at which my brother left the hotel to come up here to the diner, and the time the kidnappers arrived, how long they were at the hotel, and when they left with Hohenheim in their possession."
The single red dot had been joined by others, each with a series of numbers attached to it. At first there were two dots then one, once one of the dots moved away. Shortly after the main dot had been left alone, five more dots approached the lone dot that was Hohenheim. Roy hadn't noticed them before, but they had been sitting clustered off to one side until Al's dot had left. The five dots that had converged on Hohenheim then stayed in the same place for about ten minutes – which Ed had sped up so they wouldn't have to watch stationary dots for ten whole minutes. The six dots then left the hotel and shortly after became five dots once more as Hohenheim's dot winked out. Roy tried not to think about how strangely ominous that felt, watching that dot suddenly vanish from the screen.
"That's pretty slick kid," said Detective Murry, looking closer at the screen as if truly impressed. Ed ground his teeth, bristling at the "kid" comment, but managed to otherwise keep his cool. "How'd you manage this, or do I want to know?"
"You don't want to know," said Ed bluntly. "The math alone might make your head explode, and the source for my data might get me tossed in a cell. So let's just pretend that the cell phone signal fairy waved her magic wand," elaborated Ed dryly. "Also, it might be possible I have information on Ouroboros and on some of the thugs they typically hire for this sort of work. But, if you're going to get your panties in a bunch about where the information allegedly came from, I can't very well hand it over and incriminate myself, can I?"
"We'll say it came from a confidential informant," said Detective Murry just as dryly. His partner seemed scandalized at first but after a hard look from his older, more experienced partner, Roach nodded his reluctant acceptance.
"All right, here's what I've got," said Ed, spinning the laptop around again so he could type in the ridiculously long password to access his "spy files", as Maes called them. "Roy, I think Breda and Fuery just showed up. How about you go talk to them and get them seated. I'll be there in a second with coffee." Roy nodded, and Al got up to let him out of the booth. "Alphonse, you know what files to give them. I need to go take care of my tables. If you need me, just shout."
Ed had been right, Breda and Fuery walked in the door together and greeted Roy with subdued cheer. They'd likely ridden together since they both lived in the dorms. Jean wasn't far behind them since he also lived in the dorms. After that, the diner began to get crowded very quickly, filled with a mixture of Roy's close circle of friends and some of the few people that Ed and Al trusted – namely Izumi, Sig, Winry, and a miniscule, tough-as-nails old lady who turned out to be the one and only Granny Pinako that Roy had heard so much about. Despite the somber purpose for the gathering, such a crowd of eccentrics and miscreants couldn't help but be somewhat merry and raucous. As it turned out, Paninya was friends with Winry and Pinako, and had met Izumi and Sig before, so she was able to insinuate herself into the group without much effort.
As soon as Ed and Al had finally satisfied the two detectives and promised to go down to their station in the morning to sign an official statement – and to sign paperwork to designate them as confidential informants – the detectives left, and the brothers joined the crowd that had taken over half of the diner. Coffee flowed and serious topics were set aside as old and new friends simply enjoyed each other's company and relaxed in the easy comradery.
All of Roy's friends were suitably stunned to witness Ed being polite to his customers. After all, he was The Edward Elric who only had a passing acquaintance with the word "please" and whose favorite phrases included liberal use of the word "fuck". That was just the way Ed was. He was naturally prickly – on the outside, at least. He was like one of those little pet hedgehogs. Just because he had spines didn't mean he wasn't adorable, or that he couldn't be cuddled as long as one was careful. People who liked having him around generally understood that although "polite" was not a normal descriptor for him, it didn't mean he wasn't kind.
"Hey! I'm all about the customer service!" Ed protested when Breda poked fun at him.
"When pigs fly!" snorted Maes, earning him a glare.
"You forget who you're talking to," scoffed Ed. "I'm fully capable of building wings for a few porkers. Maybe an automail frame attached to the shoulder joints to hold lightweight aluminum plates – like metal bat wings maybe."
"I still think we need to revisit the jet pack idea," suggested Al. "I'm sure we could come up with a way to keep from singing their tails."
"Either way the weight would be prohibitive," said Winry, waving her hand like dismissing smoke. "But we shouldn't get into this discussion again. I think we're scaring the stiffs."
"Plus, the last time we got into a discussion about how to make pigs actually fly, Fritz and Ed threw bacon at me through the order window," said Paninya with a glare for Ed who smiled innocently and batted his eyelashes at her like the angel he clearly was not.
"I was just disproving your theory that there was no feasible way to make pigs fly. I like to call it 'thinking outside of the box'," said Ed without even a hint of remorse. "It could have been worse. At least it was cooked," he pointed out with a wicked grin. "Or it could have been the pork chops."
"Ugh, now you've got me craving pork chops," moaned Paninya. Ed burst out laughing making Paninya glare harder. "Shut it Four-Eyes."
"Oh shit!" spat Ed, his hand flying to his face to discover his glasses still resting there. The rest of them howled with laughter. "Yuck it up, hyenas. You'll think it's a lot less funny when I start actually charging you for your coffee – refills and all."
"You mean it's free?" asked Fuery with a puppy-like look of amazement.
"Of course, we don't charge friends and family for coffee," said Ed as if it should have been obvious. "But don't even think about skipping out on my tip or next time I will be spitting in your coffee."
"Yeah, wise man say: never piss off the people who handle your food before you do," snickered Paninya, and her and Ed grinned evilly. Ed left to fetch more coffee, his threat hanging over their heads. Several people hastily grabbed out their wallets and started pooling together an offering for their benevolent provider of free coffee. When Ed returned they each held up their tip money like they were trying to flag down a stripper, and it was Ed's turn to howl with laughter. Nonetheless, he dutifully poured them fresh coffee and accepted their humble offerings, still chortling at them. Once they'd all had their coffee refreshed, Ed returned the pot to the counter then reclaimed his seat.
"All right, guys, we've fucked around long enough," said Ed, clearing his throat with a sheepish smile. "I guess we really ought to get down to business. Ladies and gentlemen, as you all know, Al and I have recently found ourselves caught up in a shit storm. You're each only aware of different parts of this. You don't all know the whole story, and there's a damn good reason for that. It keeps you safe, keeps you from becoming victims. It's bad enough Roy got caught smack in the middle of it, and I'm seriously kicking myself for not seeing that as a possibility. There's no excuse for that sort of carelessness."
"Roy got himself involved in it, Edward," argued Riza gently, turning a lightly admonishing look toward Roy. "In fact, it could be argued that he was the one who got this ball rolling, so don't take any more guilt on your shoulders than strictly belongs there."
"Well, that aside, it needs to be stated up front that getting mixed up in this is dangerous as fuck," Ed told them point-blank. "But, for most of you, what I need from you will only get you minimally involved. There's no need to get in deep enough to get hurt. On the flipside, even if you don't get involved any further, it's still possible you'll be harassed, at least, just for being our friends. It's happened before. As soon as they figure out that our father no longer has access to his old research notes, they'll come after me and Al again. Right now, the biggest issue is that we can't tackle this as a single problem. Written out, it looks like one big theorem, but looking closer you can see it's actually three smaller equations – much less overwhelming."
"So, you're wanting to split the work load?" asked Al, knowing how his brother's mind worked. Ed nodded slowly.
"Like I said we have three problems, meaning we need three groups," said Ed looking at each of them in turn. "The first problem is data. We have quite a bit of information, but it's still not enough. We need to know more about the people we're dealing with. We also need every gram of dirt we can possibly find on these bastards. I already have a plan for what to do with that dirt, but first I need to find it."
"I can handle that," said Roy, looking toward Maes. "And I think, among us, the best people to help me with it would be Breda, Maes, and Jean."
"Good, that'll work," said Ed, offering them a pleased smile that did nothing to hide the worry in his eyes. "I'll brief Roy later on the specifics, and he can relay it to the rest of you. Roy, you're in charge there, so I leave the delegation up to you. I'm also going to call Grumman in the morning, and he should be able to help you out here and there." Ed looked to the rest of the group. "The second problem is equipment. In order to make my plan work, there're certain things I'm going to need. Plus, some of what I want to build will help with the other two problems. The equipment group will be me, Al, Pinako, Winry, Paninya, Falman, and Fuery." Those he named all nodded, spines straightening as if glad they could be of help – making it clear they hadn't been sure they'd even be helpful. Nobody liked being helpless in an untenable situation. "Third problem is our father," Ed ground out as if wishing he could ignore that problem altogether. "Once we find out where he is, we need to get him to safety and hide him until my plan is complete. I can't let them keep their leverage. The search and rescue group should be Sig, Izumi, Riza, and probably with me, Al, Paninya, and Jean to assist if necessary, since there's no telling what kind of people they have guarding him or what kind of place he might be held in. Grumman may even be able to contribute some of his security guys, if it comes right down to it. I won't know until I talk to him." Once again, there were nods from those who'd been named, but their expressions were grimmer, the weight of their responsibility heavier.
"What about the police?" asked Riza, and Ed snorted. "I know the police are already involved in this case. Wouldn't it be better to let them do their job?"
"Precedent suggests that there isn't much they can do against these guys," said Ed gravely. "They've tried time and time again, and fucking failed every god-damned time. Well, now it's in my fucking sandbox, and I'm not going to let them play around as they please. I'll kick them out of the fucking playground altogether, and make sure they stay the fuck out from now on." The incredible intensity of his determination hit them all like the heat off of a napalm fire. Edward Elric didn't know the meaning of "standing still" or "giving up". He would move forward with or without them, because he didn't know how to do anything less. They could either fall in line behind him or wait to be bulldozed out of the way. No matter how hard the fight ahead, there would be no stopping him. "But, look you guys, I know this isn't really your fight. This really is some scary shit, so if any of you want to tap out, I totally understand. But you need to decide now. Once we get this shit rolling, it'll be too late to back out."
There was a long moment of silence as they all looked to each and then to the brothers sitting as close together as they could, as if trying to bolster one another. They really would fight on alone if they had to, but the beauty of having friends was that they would never have to. "Like hell we're backing out," declared Jean fiercely, giving voice to what all of them were thinking. There were nods of agreement all around, smiles slowly spreading and becoming sharp grins. "If it was any of us going through this shit, we all know you'd be right fucking there beside us Boss. You wouldn't even take a second to think about it. So, yeah, we're there. Bring it on."
"Hell yeah," agreed Breda, fist bumping with Jean. "You couldn't keep us away if you tried."
"Edward, don't be an idiot. We're family. Family helps each other when they're in trouble," said Izumi with her trademark inarguable tone. "And if you hadn't asked for my help I would have kicked your ass for your stupidity." Her gargantuan husband Sig grunted in agreement.
Ed chuckled softly to himself then looked up at them with a smile so pure and so full of gratitude that not a one of them could say they didn't feel a bit misty-eyed. "Thanks guys," said Ed with blinding sincerity. "I mean it, really, thanks."