Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

D and Sean stared at the power plant in astonishment, or more accurately at the giant tube protruding from the plant's roof. "I think," Sean said slowly, in response to D's outburst, "that it might be a railgun."

D glanced over in bewilderment, "A what now?"

Sean closed his eyes trying to come up with a way to explain the concept without going into the physics of the thing, "Okay put simply it's a gun that propels bullets with electromagnets instead of gunpowder, and if that railgun is as big as I think it is, they could hit Central from here."

D's eyes widened, that was well over two hundred miles, "That's insane... why don't we have these things?"

"Well you'd need a power plant to generate enough energy to run one of these things efficiently," Sean explained, "And power plants aren't very... well, portable, in a military campaign it's all about mobility, a weapon's no good if you can't take it with you."

"Then what good would it do for these guys?" D gave Sean a look of total confusion, he was making no sense at all.

Her friend gave her a look, "You really don't understand strategy on a large scale do you?" D glared at him not even deigning to give an answer. Sean sighed, "Okay in a military engagement the goal is to destroy and demoralize the enemy army, but these guys are terrorists, they're trying to scare civilians, destroying cities is a good way to do that, and since cities don't really move around much, a city destroying weapon doesn't have to either."

D nodded that made sense but there was one problem, "I fail to see how one artillery piece can destroy an entire city."

The smaller soldier took a moment to glare balefully at the plant, "A railgun isn't limited in the size of its projectile and the speed it can launch it at in the same way most artillery is, it uses a magnetic field for propulsion, that's a lot more powerful than explosives."

D glanced at the plant, wondering just how powerful it could possibly be, "How powerful are we talking here?"

Sean sighed looking more than a little uneasy, "Again if this thing is as big as I think it is, we could be talking a twenty ton projectile moving at ten thousand miles per hour, if you're curious that could cause earthquakes on impact."

D was rendered almost speechless with shock, the number of deaths that could cause... "Well we'll just have to disable it before they can fire."

Her friend was shaking his head before she'd even finished, "No... that thing could fire whenever, the plant would continuously charge the magnets and as for loading the projectile... the only way they could have built something this big is with an alchemist, a good one, what we have to do is destroy this thing before they decide to fire it."

Sean rolled over onto his back, he and D had advanced to within about a hundred yards of the plant before being forced to crawl to avoid sentries. Sean glanced at D, "What was the terrain like?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Pretty rocky," D whispered back, "We'll have to be careful running out of here if we twist something we could get caught in the explosion, there's also a river in front of the main entrance-" Suddenly there was a loud bang, like thunder, "What the hell was that?"

Sean swore, "Goddammit I didn't think they'd drop us this close to the fighting, there's a big terrorist cell somewhere to the east. High Command sent in a brigade about a month ago, sounds like they just set off some heavy artillery..." Sean looked over at her with an uncharacteristically serious face, "We gotta do this as fast as possible, it sounds like the fighting's about forty or fifty miles closer than it should be... let's not get caught in the middle huh?"

D nodded a bit distractedly, "Sean... your backpack is hissing."

Sean gave her a bemused look, "It's hissing?..... shit." Sean fumbled with the straps, trying to get the pack off, he slung it in front of him and pulled his arm back to throw, there was a flash and a roar.

Arkady Grenmov was not an idealist, quite the opposite, the only reason he was working with these people was because they paid better than the Drachman Army. Arkady was a mercenary, the authority he answered to was whoever had the cash, the only conscience he had to worry about his own greed. Because of this and his reputation as a guy who got results, he had been involved in a multitude of campaigns for just as many factions. He had started his mercenary career as a State Alchemist killer for the Ishbalans. Then the Amestrians offered better pay so he became an interrogator, a polite way of saying a torturer. After Amestris's Eastern Rebellion he had infiltrated Briggs and blown up its commanding officer, that guy had gotten replaced by Olivier Armstrong though, and no way was he going after her. Now he'd been working with this haphazard terrorist cell for awhile and he was bored out of his skull. What he would give for something real instead of this blasted guard duty. Then as if to answer his wish there was a roar and he felt an invisible hand throw him against a support beam. Arkady stood up trying to clear his head, he glanced to his left and saw his rifle wrapped around another beam, damn. He looked towards the break in the wall and saw two figures walking through the smoke and dust, he couldn't make out their faces but they both moved with an easy grace that he generally associated with either gymnasts, or the kind of soldiers who thought that killing people with guns spoiled the fun. Arkady whipped out a combat knife and charged the taller, keeping as low as possible, taking advantage of the bad lighting and the debris clouding the air. Five feet away the tall one started in surprise, Arkady grinned it was already too late. Suddenly to his shock the short soldier launched into the air, but not up, straight forward streamlining his body like a torpedo. Arkady side-stepped the uncontrolled charge, and just before it happened he saw the fatal mistake he made. Arkady had assumed that the smaller soldier was body-slamming him, but no, there was a gleaming eight-inch blade sticking straight out to the soldier's right. Arkady tried to keep his momentum to the side going and only just avoided being decapitated altogether, as it was, he felt pain rip through the side of his neck. He fell to the concrete floor clapping a hand to his neck, no good the bastard had hit his subclavian artery he was as good as gone. The bastard somersaulted rolling to his feet a few meters behind him. Arkady rolled over expecting to see some tough grizzled veteran looking at him. Arkady stared at his killer, it was a kid. And not just any kid, one of those rebellious punks that made him wish he had a daughter so he could forbid her to marry one. He cursed foully in several languages. The kid grinned obviously understanding exactly what he was saying.

Then the kid spoke to him, and Arkady's fading mind managed to both process the words, and register astonishment, as he heard this punk kid speaking to him in his native language, "Don't feel too bad," the kid said, his Drachman perfect down to the accent, "Even if all of hell's angels attacked her I'd still fight them and win." Arkady thought he'd love to see that fight, than he thought nothing at all