I promise I had this done and just got bogged down with school work and what have you. So... I don't know if I promised you that I would get this one up soon, but it's sort of soon! Right?

Anyways, hope you enjoy this. Hell, I hope you understand this. Maybe I'll throw in a recap chapter just for the fun of it. If you think that'd be a good idea, let me know, I want to know if I should make the effort to or not. Otherwise, I'll get started and hopefully finish the next chapter tomorrow, and work by a day or two basis on these chapters until it's all done, which is not too far off...

Enjoy!

(Also, I haven't mentioned disclaimers in a while, 'cause I thought it just carried over from my first few chapters. Either way... I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or these characters. Okay, a few I own, kind of, spontaneous original characters bonus. XD)

Pride groaned, and before anything else registered, he felt the blood running down his face. His wrists and ankles were tied and a gag muffled his speech.

He cursed himself. How could he be so careless?

The teenager clenched numb fists. His ragged breathing filtered out burning rage that curled his mouth into a trembling snarl. As much as a snarl as he could manage through a damp rag. He twisted and flexed and fidgeted, trying to break free, but to no avail.

After the frisson of finding himself incapacitated in a dark room passed, anxiety set in to dull the pain of his aching joints and skin rubbed raw from the restraints. There was then a bitterness, mixed with anger and boredom. The teen began humming a small tune. Ode to Joy, he believed it was called.

Close to finishing his song, the heavy door to his makeshift dungeon opened. A blinding light enveloped a vaguely familiar silhouette. Tall, skinny, and carried an air of mystery that was more dangerously unpredictable than relentlessly interesting. Pride slumped against the wall.

"You were supposed to be dead a long time ago."

"When?"

"On the train... When you were pushed off," Archer said, pulling on a pair of gloves with a snap. Pride narrowed his eyes as the soldier continued. "And then... In the laboratory," He said, softly, walking carefully towards the teenager with an instrument that glinted off of the light from the hallway. "The last time was in the tavern, in Dublith."

Pride swallowed hard.

"But, you just kept coming back. Like a disease, really... One that needs to be treated appropriately." Pride could see the instrument now. It was a coiled piece of steel, sharped to a point at the end. It was used to remove corks from bottles, but the soldier's intentions were far from popping open a bottle of spirits.

Pride shrunk back against the wall, shoes scraping along the ground, trying to push him away from his fate, as though if he pushed hard enough he could escape. A quiet groan escaped him, "Oh, no..."

-

Whispers had circulated through the string of Mustang's confidants. The Colonel wasn't sure if he could believe them, but such an event couldn't be done without others taking notice.

Find Archer, you'll find Edward. They told him.

If the Colonel was to guess where his subordinate was being held himself, he would entertain the idea that a man like Archer would want something soundproof, cold, dark. The Colonel was hopelessly uncertain where such a room would be at, so he stationed a few of his personnel to the four corners of each floor, awaiting the sight of the soldier.

It was only Mustang's luck that he would find him.

-

The opener tore out of his shoulder as smoothly as a dull knife might. Blood ran from the perfectly circular wound. It burned and throbbed, but the teenager made no sound. No acknowledgment of the man's toyings. The wounds healed shortly after they were inflicted, and it seemed that the soldier's patience for Pride's absent pain was growing thin.

Frank Archer's lips pulled back into a rictus snarl, a growl of rage escaped him, and he pulled his gun from his holster. It was aimed between the teenager's eyes, which had widened in ephemeral fear.

The door flew open as Pride slumped over, blood flowing freely. Two guards stationed outside of the door were standing there, mouths open in stunned silence.

"I'll return later, to finish," Archer said quietly, before turning and pushing his way past the guards.

Privates Josten and Shields, as Pride would eventually learn, stood watching the teenager bleed until they were told to shut the door. Josten did so, swearing to Shields that he saw the teenager moving, and Shields would remark that he was just seeing things, that the Brigadier General was just insane from the Ishbalan War and was talking to himself, that homunculi weren't real, and that maybe they shouldn't have taken the assignment as guards to a torture room. Josten would agree.

They stood then, and the room behind them and the hallways ahead of them were silent.

Pride stirred, brought back from death once again, although the stream of blood was still running down his face, forking at his nose and curving around his mouth. The teenager kept his head down, inhaled deeply, and let out a scream that shattered the silence of the cold room like the bullet that had killed him.

Outside of the door, the privates flinched. Guarding a soundproof door, they knew they shouldn't be able to hear sounds from inside, but perhaps the room wasn't soundproof at all, perhaps the teenager had just been silent up until then. Private Josten slid to a sitting position, cradling his gun to his chest.

Afterwards, the teenager remained quiescent for an impossible amount of time.

-

Mustang met the Brigadier General in the hallway. He, too, had heard the scream, and searched the second floor of the basement with a renewed determination. The Brigadier General caught up with him around the corner. Mustang turned when he heard the footsteps and both men stopped and stared at one another.

"What are you doing down here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Silence passed between them. A tension that verged on dangerous. Archer slowly, very slowly, reached for his gun. Mustang already had his gloves, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together compulsively.

"Archer!"

Mustang turned. The Führer stood at the end of the hallway, flanked by two officers. With a scowl, Archer moved his hand back to his side and walked to the Führer, aggressively shoving the Colonel out of the way.

The Colonel watched as they left, satisfied, but edgy. Once the four of them reached the stairs, Mustang took off in a dead sprint. Edward couldn't be too far away.

Private Josten held his head in his hands, rocking softly against the door.

"Get up," Private Shields snapped. "Get up."

"This is bad this is bad this is bad."

"You're right."

Shields and Josten both looked towards the voice, a soft, feminine voice, although nonetheless commanding. A gun was pointed at Private Shields, while Private Josten remained on the floor, cowering.

"Lieutenant! How good it is to... See you! We were just-"

"Save it. The Colonel will be here shortly. You hold a State Alchemist in that room and I suggest you release him before he gets here," Lieutenant Hawkeye said, holding her gun up to her eyes, training it carefully.

Private Shields nodded, set down his rifle, and opened the door. The Lieutenant went over to Private Josten, kneeled down, and took his hand.

"He told us it was a simple job. No mess, but he shot him. He shot him and he's not even dead," Josten sobbed.

Hawkeye nodded. "There are a lot of things that you don't know – yet. Come with us and live."

Josten wiped his eyes and watched as a tall, dark-haired man approached him. "Watch the hallway," he said. Josten nodded, stood, and quickly made his way to the main hallway.

"Get away from me!"

Private Shields was thrown against a wall, the stone moving and curling around him, threatening to crush him. Pride stood paces away, the bonds gone, alchemy licked his skin like electric sparks.

The Colonel and the Lieutenant stood away, unsure of how to approach the alchemist. But if they didn't, the young private would be crushed to death.

"Edward...?"

The teenager turned, his face a pure picture of anger, but then softened. "You're... I know you."

"Let him go."

Private Shields dropped to the floor as his stone prison fell with him in pieces.

Mustang took a few tentative steps towards the teenager. "You're safe now. We're here to help you."

Pride stood straight, eyes narrowed.

-

The Colonel closed the door behind his back and looked around his office. Pride sat on the couch, hugging himself calmly under a dark blue military jacket. The Lieutenant stood near the door, closest to Mustang. Havoc sat near Pride, carefully watching the homunculus. The two young privates, Shields and Josten, sat on his desk. Shields patted Josten on the shoulder, who still appeared shaken up. The others were rallying the revolution members or just waiting for the signal themselves.

"I need to get to the Führer's office," Pride said, quietly.

The Colonel nodded, "It's going to be tough, but perhaps in the chaos that's we're about to stir up, it could be possible."

Pride looked up, incredulous. "What do you plan to do? Topple the government? Look at what they've done to us already."

Mustang shrugged. "It can't remain the way it is now."

Pride pulled the military jacket – given to him by Havoc – tighter around his shoulders. In the distance, he could hear bells ringing. He turned towards the sound, it was coming from the church, and then noticed a change in the Colonel's demeanor.

"It's begun," He said quietly, grinning.

Hope all that wasn't too much... Too dramatic, but I needed something like all of that in here. Right.

Anyways, I love reviews, of course, and whatever else you can throw at me. Don't flame... Specifically criticize... Etc. Thanks! 3