The Unknown Factor

by abstract-moth

After a resistance group in the northeast is linked to various crimes, Colonel Mustang, Hawkeye, Ed, and (to everyone's surprise) a mysterious soldier named Logan Reed are sent undercover to investigate. As the mission progresses, the team is faced with a stream of endless threats and questions. What is Reed's connection with the northeastern border? And why is Ed so apprehensive?

8. Chapter 8

Author's Note:

This chapter is way overdue. It is also way longer than I intended it to be. In fact it's practically a mini story on it's own. If it was any other chapter, I would have split it into two parts, but being a flashback, I wanted to post it all at once.

The format is also a little different. To be clear, it jumps between Reed's mission debriefing (italics) and the actual Parktown Incident (regular font).

There is also some action violence in this chapter.

Reviews are always appreciated.

I own nothing

---

In one of Eastern Command's many interrogation rooms, two officers sat across from one another.

The younger one pulled at his bloodstained sleeves. He had barely acknowledged his companion, staring blankly at the metal table before him.

The other officer did not comment on this behavior. He was sitting in his chair, back straight with hands folded on the table before him. One would assume that he was indifferent, mind focused on the task at hand. However, those who knew him would recognize that there was some sort of spark in his eyes, as if something had awoken his interest. It was for this reason that he began to speak, not with harsh words of reprimand, but with a tone of sincerity.

"I will remind you that this is simply a mission debriefing. You are not in any trouble," the man reassured. "However it is in your best interest to answer each question as honestly as you can. Do you understand?"

Across from him, Lieutenant Reed resisted the urge to scoff. He knew the Colonel didn't mean a word he said. It was likely just a ruse to draw him into a false sense of security. For if there was truly nothing to worry about, they wouldn't be having this conversation in an interrogation room.

"I understand," Reed said, the words catching in his throat.

"Alright," Colonel Mustang said, flipping through the file before him. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

Reed nodded, attempting to meet the Colonel's eyes.

"Yesterday, General Hayes assigned Sergeant Davis and I to a new mission," Reed said.

"And what was that mission?" Mustang asked, taking a few notes.

"We were to transfer a prisoner from the Parktown prison to a prison in East City," Reed said.

Mustang consulted the papers before him. "According to the mission report General Hayes requested that you drive an armored truck to Parktown."

"Yes," Reed said. "I was the one driving it."

"Did you notice anything unusual on your drive down?"

Reed rubbed his wrist.

"I noticed some things that were a bit odd, but nothing that I would describe as unusual."

Mustang looked him in the eye. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"

---

Reed flinched as a leaf flew into his face. He cringed, but kept his hands steady, trying to avoid swerving the truck.

"Can you roll that window up?" he said.

"We've been in this stuffy truck for an hour. It's hot. I need air," Lynn Davis said.

"We're arriving in Parktown in half an hour. Can it wait?" he said.

Lynn pulled at her collar.

"I'm sweating through my uniform," she said. "So no, it can't."

"Fine," he said. "But at least roll it up halfway."

Lynn scowled but did as he said.

"You know, I actually thought that this might be fun. You're always so quiet, I thought for sure you'd have something interesting to say," she said.

Reed spared the Sergeant a glance.

"What would you like to know?" he asked.

"I don't know. Anything?" she said. "I mean, we both work together, but we never talk."

Reed stared at the winding road before him. He turned the wheel, bringing them around a curve. She was right. Come to think of it, he couldn't think of one time where they'd discussed something other than work.

Sergeant Lynn Davis had joined General Hayes' team about a year ago. From what Reed observed, she was kind, studious, and loyal; never failing to make friends. And though he would never admit it, of all the people in the office, Reed felt the most comfortable around her.

"So what do you think about this mission?" he asked.

"I mean talk about something other than work," she said.

Reed pursed his lips.

"I don't know," he said. "I just have a bad feeling about this mission."

"What do you mean? We're just picking up a prisoner."

"Yeah, but we are bypassing the trains," he said.

"But that can be for a variety of reasons. Maybe the prisoner is dangerous. Maybe they don't want to put civilians in danger," she said.

"East City and Parktown are only one train stop away. Plus, this road runs along a ravine, making it winding and hazardous. Why choose an hour and a half drive over a 20 minute train ride? Furthermore, if it is so dangerous, then why only send two officers?" he asked.

Lynn fell silent.

"I hadn't thought about that," she said. "So what do you think is going to happen?"

Reed shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh come on," she said. "You must have to have some sort of theory."

Reed shook his head.

"I honestly don't know," he said. "That's what makes it weird."

---

"So at that moment, you shared your suspicions with Sergeant Davis?" Mustang asked.

"That is correct," Reed answered.

"And did you continue to do this for the entire mission?"

"No, sir," Reed said.

"Why?" Mustang asked.

Reed was silent for a moment.

"After we arrived in Parktown it became clear that we hadn't been properly briefed," he said. "I chose not to share my suspicions because I wasn't entirely sure what was going on myself."

"So what happened when you arrived in Parktown?" Mustang asked.

---

Reed gripped the steering wheel as they entered Parktown. His heart hammered in his chest and he took a shaky breath. It was just a routine mission. Nothing bad was going to happen.

'Have you forgotten what you did?'

'You can still smell the blood'

Reed swallowed.

"Hey, you okay?" Lynn asked.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure about that? You look a bit pale," she said, staring at his hands.

He looked down, realizing with silent horror that his knuckles were turning white. He loosened his grip.

"It's nothing," he said, flashing a halfhearted smile. "I'm just sick of driving this truck."

Lynn's gaze lingered on him for a moment before turning away with a shake of her head.

"I told you it was too hot."

Reed kept his eyes on the road, silence falling between them once more.

The prison was located on its own block. Tall white walls surrounded the entire complex, forming a secure barrier.

Upon entry, they were greeted by a few military officers.

"I am Lieutenant Logan Reed and this is Sergeant Lynn Davis. We're here on account of a prison transfer," he said, handing them the official request.

"Greetings, I am Corporal Smith," one officer said, taking the file in his hands. He read the first line. "I'm sorry, but I cannot accept this."

"What do you mean?" Lynn asked.

"As we informed your General, the Warden has denied the transfer," the Corporal said.

Reed and Davis exchanged glances. This was news to them.

"Are you not aware of this?" the Corporal asked, glancing between them.

"No. We weren't," Reed said. "On what grounds has the Warden dismissed the transfer?"

The Corporal looked at them.

"Perhaps you should speak to the Warden about this," Smith said.

The Corporal led them into the prison. Reed let his eyes scan back and forth, looking for anything unusual. The only thing of note was that the prison was exceptionally tidy. The floor was so clean that it squeaked under their boots.

They stopped in front of the Warden's office. Smith knocked twice before entering.

The Warden was a middle-aged woman with graying hair. She stood up from her desk as they entered.

"This is Lieutenant Reed and Sergeant Davis," Smith said. "They're here on account of the prison transfer. However, they appear to have no knowledge of your most recent report."

The woman eyed them warily.

"You are excused, Corporal," she said.

Smith left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Please, have a seat," the Warden said, gesturing to the chairs before her desk.

Reed and Lynn sat down.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Warden Morris," she said.

"Pleased to meet you," Reed said.

The Warden flipped through some of the files on her desk.

"Tell me, what has the General informed you about the prisoner?" she asked.

"We were told that he had been arrested seven days ago, under suspicion of being connected to a local terrorist group. He is a man of about 40 years of age. Name unknown."

The Warden nodded. "Yes, all of that information was in the initial arrest report. However since sending that report, we have observed that the prisoner has remained unusually calm and aloof. He refuses to answer all questions, instead asking random ones of his own. I have found this to be highly unusual, so I requested to General Hayes that the transfer be postponed until the interrogations have been completed." She looked them in the eye. "And I intend to do that."

"Not answering questions?" Lynn asked. "But shouldn't that behavior be expected?"

The Warden folded her hands. "It's more than that. There's something about his personality. I feel that he is extremely dangerous and I would rather not have him leave Parktown until I know more."

Lynn cast a side-glance at Reed.

Although he didn't return her gaze, he knew she had realized the same thing.

The Warden was letting her own feelings enter the investigation. She was personally invested in this case.

'And you never get personally invested in cases'

The Warden pulled a file from her desk and handed it to them.

"This is the official transfer denial. We sent this to General Hayes three days ago."

"And what was the General's response?" Lynn asked.

"There wasn't one."

---

"At that moment, what were you thinking?" Mustang asked.

"I was confused," Reed said. "I didn't know what was going on."

"And what did you think was happening?" Mustang asked.

"It was possible that this was all a misunderstanding. That the Warden's report had just gotten misplaced somehow. It was also likely that the Warden had never sent a report to the General. She could have been lying to us so that she could continue leading the investigation herself. However it was also plausible that General Hayes had not informed us on purpose. Bottom line was that there were a number of things that could've been going on. At the moment, I lacked sufficient information to make an informed decision. And until I contacted the General and asked him about the Warden's report, I had no way to know the truth."

"And did you contact the General?" Mustang asked.

"No sir," Reed said.

Mustang looked at him. "You are aware that many would view that as insubordination."

"Yes, sir. I am fully aware of the consequences," Reed said.

"So why did you do it?" Mustang said.

"I wanted to sit in on an interrogation with the prisoner first."

"Why?"

To Reed, the answer was obvious. He had been cross checking information. It allowed him to see firsthand if what the Warden said lined up with the prisoner's actual behavior. If the Warden was in fact letting her feelings guide her decision-making, she might've been exaggerating. Furthermore, it was a way to see how willing the Warden would work with them. And in the end, if he did have to haul the prisoner back, with or without the Warden's consent, no one could say that he hadn't done anything to help.

But he couldn't just say that.

That would have been what a spy would have done, not an Amestrian soldier.

So instead, Reed decided to focus on another issue.

"I did not want to confront General Hayes without properly informing myself of the situation," he said.

The moment the words left his lips, Reed felt his stomach twist. For all he knew the General could be dead, yet here he was using him to avoid suspicion.

Mustang tilted his head.

"And why would you do that?"

Reed's throat constricted and he fought hard to speak.

"This wasn't the first time something like this had happened."

Mustang raised an eyebrow.

"You mean to say that there were other incidents like this?"

Reed nodded. "The General is a proud man. He never explains more than he has to."

"And how has this affected your previous missions?"

"Well, I typically just accepted it."

"So what was different this time?"

Reed looked down. "I don't know."

Mustang didn't comment, but Reed knew that he didn't believe him.

The thing was both officers knew the real answer and it hung before them in the heavy air.

It's because Reed was personally invested in this mission too.

Mustang looked down at the file.

"So what happened when you interrogated the prisoner?"

---

Reed followed Corporal Smith into the interrogation room, moving to stand next to the door. He let his eyes waver to the one-way mirror adjacent to him. Sergeant Davis had passed on the offer to be in the interrogation room, instead choosing to remain safely behind the glass.

The prisoner was already there. He was seated on the chair across from the Corporal, eyes watching him intently.

Reed had met prisoners before. Both Amestris and Drachma were just as brutal in how they treated criminals. A man with connections to a terrorist group would likely be facing a firing squad by the end of the week.

In this circumstance, a prisoner would've had that fact bearing down on them. Head hung low, crestfallen eyes; he would be gazing numbly at the world around him, knowing his days were numbered.

But not this man.

He was leaning back in his chair, shackled hands folded elegantly on the table in front of him. His expression was impassive, almost indifferent. There was just something about the way he sat, about the way his chin was slightly raised. A fire was burning in his eyes, not yet diminished by the grey walls. Had he not been wearing a prisoner uniform, Reed would have mistaken him as the guard.

'Intriguing'

Smith opened the file in front of him.

"As I said before, I am Corporal Smith and I will be conducting your interrogation today," he said. "Would you mind telling me your name?"

The prisoner said nothing.

The Corporal continued.

"Do you understand why you were arrested?"

Still nothing.

"Do you understand the charges against you?"

The prisoner didn't answer. However he turned his head, looking at Reed for the first time. For a split second, their eyes met.

Reed felt a shiver run down his spine.

There was something churning in those man's eyes.

"Do you have any relations to the terrorist group operating in Parktown?" the Corporal continued.

The prisoner turned his head back.

"What's the weather like today?" he asked.

Reed blinked. Why would he ask that?

The Corporal gritted his teeth. "Answer my questions and I'll tell you," he said.

"Your shoes aren't muddy, so it can't be raining," the prisoner said. "So what is it? Cloudy? Sunny? Maybe a bit windy?"

The Corporal sighed and turned to Reed.

"Do you see what we mean?" he said.

The prisoner looked at Reed again.

"What's the weather like today?" he asked.

Reed hesitated for a moment.

"First, tell me who you are," he said.

The prisoner said nothing.

Reed weighed his options. No matter which country you were in, answering a prisoner's questions was highly discouraged. However, not answering his questions didn't seem to be working either.

"It's sunny," Reed said.

The prisoner leaned backwards and crossed his legs comfortably.

"Sunny enough that people are strolling around?" the prisoner asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Reed asked.

The prisoner shrugged. For just a moment, his hands weren't clasped and Reed was able to see them clearly. And when he did, his eyes went wide.

The prisoner's hands were covered with acid scars.

Reed's expression must have given him away, because the prisoner eyed him carefully, before slowly refolding his hands.

The prisoner sighed, his tone impassive. "Since I've been arrested, I haven't seen so much as a window. Tell me, has City Hall planted their flowerbeds? What's the latest show playing in the theater?"

"That's enough," the Corporal said. "We're getting off topic."

"Hush," the prisoner said. "I was talking to the Lieutenant."

Reed narrowed his eyes. So the prisoner had counted his ranking pins.

But what did that mean?

Reed let his eyes shift to the Corporal's own ranking pins. Of course, small prisons like these were run by low ranking military officers and military police. A Lieutenant's presence would signify that something important was happening. If Reed was imprisoned and he saw that there was a higher-ranking officer present, he would probably try to find out why they were there. Maybe even where they came from.

Is that why the prisoner wanted him to answer his questions? To find out where he was from?

Suddenly, Reed understood. There was a City Hall in Parktown, but there wasn't one in East City. However there was a theater right across from Eastern Command. That's why the prisoner wanted Reed to answer the question. So that he would know which city Reed was more familiar with.

"I don't know," Reed lied. "I don't go out much."

The prisoner's piercing eyes stared at him for a moment before he turned back to the Corporal.

"Such a shame," the prisoner said. "Spring is my favorite season."

The Corporal cast a glance towards Reed before picking up the file once more.

"What do you know about the terrorist group operating around Parktown?" he asked.

The prisoner stayed silent. However, Reed noticed some sort of unreadable expression cross his face.

"That group's caused some trouble haven't they," the prisoner said.

Reed exchanged glances with the Corporal. Were they finally getting a response? And of all times, why would the prisoner decide to start talking now?

"Yes," the Corporal said. "They have."

The prisoner nodded. "I remember their first attack, a bookstore on Palm Avenue. The second was a convenience store on Birch Road. After that it escalated to the restaurant on Flem Street, and then..." the prisoner turned to face Reed. "Where was the fourth attack again?"

Reed stared blankly. He didn't know.

The file in East City stopped after the second attack. And even if it hadn't, Reed doubted that he would have memorized all those details for a mere prison transfer.

Though Reed's facial expression remained blank, his silence seemed to answer the prisoner's unspoken question. The prisoner's lips curled into a soft smile and he leaned back further into his chair.

Reed had a sinking feeling that he had given something away.

The Corporal stared at the prisoner, just as confused.

"The fourth attack was a market on South Street," Smith said.

The prisoner nodded.

"I remember now. It was on a Saturday," he smiled. "Quite amusing."

"Amusing?" Smith asked.

"I don't think I've ever seen acid dissolve that much skin. And the screams, never thought humans could make such a sound."

The Corporal gritted his teeth.

"Three people died that day, including a five year old boy."

The prisoner shrugged.

"They probably deserved it."

Smith leapt to his feet. "You inconsiderate-"

"Corporal," Reed warned.

Smith glared at Reed for a moment, before sitting down once more.

"Excuse me," he said, looking away.

Reed turned back towards the prisoner, eager to learn more.

So far, he had mentioned acid. Plus, he had acid burns on his hands. If anything, that confirmed his connections to the terrorist group.

"What else do you know about that attack?" Reed asked.

However, the prisoner seemed to be done talking.

"Do you know anything else about the other attacks?"

The prisoner looked up at Reed, his lips curled upwards into a smile.

---

Warden Morris and Sergeant Davis were waiting for them in the hall.

"Well?" the Warden asked.

"Would you happen to know how the terrorist group gets their acid?" Reed asked.

The Warden shook her head.

"We haven't been able to track it. The few labs in the city haven't had any theft and their inventories check out. Why do you ask?"

"The prisoner has acid burns on his hands," Reed said.

"How can you be certain it was acid?" Corporal Smith asked.

"I knew someone who liked to play around with chemicals," Reed explained.

"So this confirms that the prisoner is connected to the terrorist group," Lynn said.

"There's more," Reed said. "Those burns are on his hands, mainly around the fingers. We could argue that he merely carried out the attacks, and got burned then, but in that case, they would be fresh wounds. These are old scars," Reed said. "So I think it's reasonable to conclude that he was the one who manufactured the acid."

"It makes sense," the Warden said.

"But we don't have any concrete proof," Smith said.

"If anything, it definitely links him to the attacks," Lynn said.

The Warden nodded.

"Corporal, get an expert to look at the scarring and confirm that the scar distribution came from acid."

"Yes, sir," Smith said, saluting, before walking away.

The Warden waited until he had rounded the corner, before turning back towards them.

She cleared her throat. "So now that you've seen the prisoner for yourself. Are you going to proceed with the transfer?"

Reed exchanged glances with Lynn.

"We should contact General Hayes. There may have just been a miscommunication," Reed said. "Is there a phone we could borrow?"

The Warden nodded.

"This way," she said, leading them down the hall.

When they arrived at the phone booth, Reed picked up the receiver, hesitating for a moment.

"Warden, if you don't mind, could you please fetch me the prisoner's file. The General may ask about it and I would like to have it for reference."

"Of course," the Warden said, turning down the hall.

Reed waited until she was out of earshot before turning to Lynn.

"There wasn't a miscommunication."

"But you just said-"

"I know, but listen," Reed said. "Protocol is extremely strict with reports like these. The Communications Department works overtime to make sure that documents are not lost. They would have triple checked to make sure that the report arrived at our office."

"So we can be sure that the report reached General Hayes' desk," Lynn said.

Reed nodded. "But remember, for security reasons, nothing is ever sent directly to a high ranking officer. Protocol also requires that a subordinate review it first.'

Lynn creased her brow.

"What are you saying?" she said.

"I'm saying that at least one other person in the office knew of the Warden's report," Reed said.

"So then why weren't we..." Lynn's eyes went wide. "You don't think General Hayes didn't fully brief us on purpose?"

"It makes sense. Of all the officers under his command, we are the only two to have never openly questioned his judgement," Reed said. "My guess is that the General sent us here, hoping that we'll carry out the prison transfer despite the Warden's objections."

Lynn gritted her teeth.

"I hate it when he does things like this."

"Me too."

"So what now?" Lynn asked.

"Well, he is a General and we are only his subordinates. The best thing we can do is call him and hope he is in a good mood," Reed said, picking up the phone. He dialed the number to the General's office. He was moderately surprised when he was rerouted to the Communications Department.

"This is Eastern Command, Communications Department, who is speaking?" someone said on the other end of the line.

"This is Lieutenant Logan Reed. Can you reroute me to General Hayes?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but the General isn't taking calls at the moment."

Reed glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still office hours.

"Then can you reroute me to someone in General Hayes' office?" he asked. Lynn leaned in closer to him, attempting to hear the other side of the conversation.

"They're not taking any calls. However if you wish, you can leave a message. He should get back to you sometime next week."

"Next week?" Reed said. "Listen, this is Lieutenant Reed. General Hayes is my direct superior. I am currently on an ongoing mission and I need to speak with him."

"I'm sorry, but the General isn't taking any calls."

"Then can you reroute me to another-"

"No can do," the person said. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Reed gritted his teeth. Perhaps a different approach.

"Three days ago, Parktown prison sent a report to General Hayes' office. Can you see if it has arrived?"

"One moment."

There was the sound of shuffling papers.

"Yes, it arrived two days ago."

Reed exchanged glances with Lynn.

"Can you tell me the report specifics?" he asked

"Well, we don't have a copy of it here. But it was from Warden Morris to General Hayes. Something about a prison transfer."

Reed nodded. At least the Warden's story checked out.

"Can you tell me who received it?"

"The log doesn't specify."

"Then would you mind calling the office and asking them?"

"Sure, one-" the person stopped, having caught onto Reed's ruse. Reed heard chuckling. "Oh, you're a clever one. Almost got me there, didn't you?"

"I need to talk to someone within that office," Reed said.

The person sighed. "Well you seem like a nice guy, so I'll save you the trouble. The entire Communications Department has been ordered to disregard all phone calls to General Hayes."

"On whose orders?" Reed asked.

"I can't answer that."

Reed sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I need to speak with the General."

"How bad is your mission?"

"That report I asked you about, I didn't even know it existed until I got to Parktown," Reed said.

There was a loud whistle on the line.

"Well, that's certainly the General's style."

"Are you sure there's no way I can contact the General?" Reed asked.

"Afraid so. Listen, I'm really sorry, but there's nothing either of us can do," the person paused. "And you didn't hear it from me, but the General isn't even in his office right now."

"What?"

"I said too much already, but that's really all I know."

Reed sighed. "Can I at least leave a message?"

"Sure."

"Tell the General that his subordinates have arrived in Parktown prison, but it appears that the Warden has denied the prison transfer. Furthermore, there is new evidence that the prisoner is a crucial member of the terrorist group. With these developments, it is highly recommended that the investigation be allowed to continue and the prison transfer be reevaluated. As of now, we are waiting for further instructions."

Reed listened as the person wrote it down.

"I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," Reed said. "Thanks anyway."

The line went dead. Reed let out a sigh and put down the phone.

---

"You were unable to contact the General?" Mustang asked.

"Yes, sir."

"And at the time you didn't know why."

"That is correct."

"But you know now."

"Yes, sir."

"So after that phone call, what did you think was going on?" Mustang asked.

"I honestly didn't know. It was possible that the General was simply called away on a mission of higher priority," Reed said.

"And how did this uncertainty affect your actions?" Mustang asked.

"It definitely made me uneasy. I didn't really know what to do, I had to rely on what I already knew, and what I felt was right," Reed said.

Mustang folded his hands.

"Do you believe that your actions were rash in any way?"

"At that moment, no. If anything it made me more cautious," Reed said.

Mustang's expression was blank and unreadable. Reed was afraid that he had said the wrong answer.

"So in the end, what did you decide to do?" Mustang asked.

"Well, Sergeant Davis and I talked it over. We didn't want to overrule the Warden, but at the same time we didn't think we should disregard the General's orders," Reed said. "At the latest we had to return to East City before dark. It would take an hour and a half to drive that winding road back. That meant that we had to leave Parktown by 1900 hours. It was about 1400 hours when we attempted to call General Hayes. We figured that we'd wait a few hours. In case the General was able to pick up our message," Reed said.

"So what did you do while you were waiting?"

"We decided to aid in the investigation of the terrorist group."

---

Reed rubbed his eyes and stared at the papers before him.

The file on the local terrorist group wasn't that detailed. It was mostly compiled of eyewitness reports. However many were vague and contradicted one another. Only the medical and first responder reports were consistent.

All of the attacks had been ambushes on civilians. The group seemed to be going out of their way to avoid attacking military personnel. Explosives were used for the first two attacks, but after that the group switched to acid.

In the back of his mind, Reed wondered if the group was strong enough to pull off an attack on the military.

The group did have one thing going for them. The acid they used was extremely corrosive. It allowed them to gain the upper hand and incapacitate virtually everyone within a 20 feet (6 meter) radius. In just seven attacks, over 90 people have been treated for acid burns, many facing permanent disfiguration, while fourteen had died.

And now the man responsible for this, the terrorists group's most valuable member, was sitting in a prison cell.

'This can't end well'

Reed shook his head and began to reread the report from the top.

Sergeant Davis and the Warden were chatting in the corner, taking a break from reviewing the files. Their voices flowed past where Reed was standing and he couldn't help but listen in.

"I'm sorry you came all the way down here for this," Warden Morris said.

"No, it was fine for the most part. Just really hot," Lynn said.

"I know what you mean," the Warden said. "It's a relatively long drive from East City, isn't it? Over an hour, I believe."

"An hour and a half," Lynn said. "And the twists and turns don't help. I kept getting dizzy."

"It doesn't help that it's dirt either. I keep hoping that they'll pave it one day, but nowadays everyone takes the trains so it wouldn't be worth the time," she said. "You know, once I was driving out there during winter, it started to rain and the whole road turned into mud."

"Aww, that must've sucked," Lynn said.

Reed turned back to the file, disinterested in the conversation.

He sighed and rubbed his shoulder. It was true that stress was getting to him, but he knew that wasn't the only reason. For the past 20 minutes a purely evil thought had begun to resonate around his skull.

'There is no military base in Parktown. And a town like this would likely only have one records room'

'So it is likely that Kani's missing person report is in this very room'

Reed's heart pounded in his chest.

It was tempting, too tempting.

His eyes wavered to the file cabinet next to him, a ring of keys still in the lock. It would be easy, so incredibly easy to just take those keys and find her file. It had to be in here, somewhere among the rows of file cabinets.

He had always wondered what happened after they left Parktown. How long did it take before people realized that she was missing? How long had the MPs searched before giving up? And what was her family's reaction? Did they cry? Did they feel guilty?

Did Kani have a grave?

A headstone marking an empty plot of land. A futile attempt to remember what was long gone.

Reed bit his tongue. He was being stupid. Both the Warden and Sergeant Davis were within earshot. What would happen if they decided to check his progress to find him rummaging through a missing person's report from two years ago.

Reed turned back to the file. He had enough to worry about. It was six o'clock. If they had any hope of getting back to East City before dark they would have to leave soon.

And deep down, despite everything he told the Warden, he knew that the General wouldn't respond.

General Hayes was incredibly headstrong, never explaining more than he had to. He kept his real plans a secret, even to his own men.

Logically, Reed knew that the best thing he could do was suck it up and drive back to East City, prisoner in tow.

But he just couldn't.

This was Parktown. This is where it all happened. He had walked into this town as a nameless Drachman spy and had left as an Amestrian soldier.

He had taken Kani's life. Kani, who had been an innocent bystander, whose only fault was her devoted love for her boyfriend.

He had murdered her.

And that guilt would live with him forever.

So perhaps this was why, as Reed continued to flip through the file that he felt less and less inclined to leave. This was probably the last time he would ever step foot in this town. And it just didn't feel right to leave while a terrorist group was still on the loose. In his own twisted mind, this was one of only things he could do to make it right. That at the very least, he could make sure that the town Kani had lived in would be in peace.

'That's not a reason. This is selfish indulgence and it will only lead to trouble'

He sighed and brushed his hair back.

"Found anything yet?"

Reed looked up to see Corporal Smith facing him.

"No, not really," Reed said. "Is this all you have on the group?"

"Unfortunately," the Corporal said. "There might be more in the evidence logs, but everything else is in that file."

Reed sighed.

The Corporal continued to speak. "The group has remained elusive. There's no telling what they're next plan is. So you see how important this prisoner is. If he is truly that important to the group, he may be the key to this case. Which is exactly why he should be kept in Parktown. All that Eastern Command is concerned with is prosecuting this guy. We are the only ones actually trying to catch the entire group."

"I know," Reed said. "But there's not much we can do without contacting General Hayes."

"If I may be frank," the Corporal said. "I think you should worry less about protocol and more about your obligation as a soldier." He gestured to the report. "For months now, this is what the people of Parktown have been faced with. They have been living in terror, wondering if they would be the next victims. Can you imagine how that must feel? To go to work everyday, knowing that your family might not be there when you come back?"

Reed stiffened.

"I hear you," he said.

Faintly, he could hear Lynn laughing from the corner of the room.

He mentally shook himself.

"You mentioned evidence logs. Mind if I see them?"

"Sure," the Corporal said. "I'll just need to put that file away first."

"Okay," Reed said. He organised it so that the papers were in chronological order, making sure that the report from the first attack was on top.

"A few years back, we had some problems with officers taking files out and forgetting to return them. So now the Warden doesn't allow any file to leave the records room unless it's cleared by her," he said.

"That's practical."

The Corporal nodded and attempted to open the file cabinet. He cursed as the key refused to turn.

"Damn lock," he said. "Keeps sticking."

"Are all the locks like that?" Reed asked, tilting his head.

"No, just this one," the Corporal said, still struggling. "We'll have to get it fixed, been like this for a month."

Finally, the key turned and the drawer opened. Reed dropped the file, closed the drawer, and the Corporal yanked the key out. Together they turned and began to walk towards the evidence locker.

---

"So what happened next?" Mustang asked.

"I continued to go over the evidence with Corporal Smith until it was about 1800 hours. At which time Sergeant Lynn and I regrouped and discussed what we were going to do," Reed said.

"And what did you decide?" Mustang asked.

---

"General Hayes better reimburse us for this," Lynn said, shoving the door open.

Reed followed behind her, smiling softly to himself.

"Hey," he said. "You agreed to stay too."

He surveyed the room. Two small beds and a bath. Not bad.

"Hopefully, we'll only be here for one night," Reed said. "If the General doesn't get back to us by then, we should probably head back to East City."

"With or without the prisoner?" Lynn asked.

Reed looked away. "I don't know yet."

Lynn sighed and plopped down on one of the beds.

"Isn't there a protocol or something that when officers are on a mission, their superiors have to remain contactable," she said.

"If there is, I've never heard of it," Reed said. "Plus, I doubt that it would apply to prison transfers."

He plopped his bag on the ground and stooped to take off his boots. They had found the cheapest inn they could, deciding to share a room to save money. The best choice would've been to stay in a military barrack, but the Parktown prison didn't have any extra bunks.

"Not unless you want a room with three walls and a steel bar door," Corporal Smith had joked.

Lynn's sigh made Reed look up.

"I hate sleeping in my uniform," she said.

"I have some extra clothes," Reed said, looking at his bag. "You can borrow some."

"Really?" Lynn said.

Reed nodded, trying to think of an excuse. As a spy, it was a habit to bring a go bag, complete with an extra change of clothes, everywhere he went.

"When I was in the West, I knew a guy who was a bit of a survivalist. Came prepared for every situation. I guess some of it rubbed off on me."

"Wow," Lynn said. "You know a guy who worked with acid and someone who's a survivalist. You must really get around."

"Who says they're different people?"

Lynn laughed.

They had already eaten dinner before checking in. So they took turns getting ready in the bathroom and Reed lent Lynn one of his shirts.

Afterwards, Lynn talked for a little bit about the various people she'd known and places she'd been.

Reed's mind was a bit too muddled to do anything other than nod along.

At about ten o'clock, they decided to call it a night and go to bed.

As they began to drift off, Reed heard Lynn shuffle in her bed.

"I wonder if this counts as insubordination."

Reed closed his eyes and pretended not to hear her.

---

It was about three in the morning when Reed woke up again.

He stared up at the ceiling, wondering what had roused him.

It was probably nothing.

He sat up and looked around the room. Light from a streetlamp was streaming through the curtains, casting a low glow. In the other bed, Lynn was snoring softly. Her head was buried in her pillow.

He looked at the far wall and squinted his eyes, just barely able to make out the dark shadow of his bag.

He had never fully unpacked Logan's apartment.

During the first few weeks he only took out what he needed: clothes, plates, some utensils, but nothing more. The rest of the boxes stayed piled next to the door, a daily reminder that this life was not his own.

About a month into his assignment, he had woken up in a cold sweat. Before he could even process what he was doing, he was tearing through the boxes. After half an hour of searching he finally found them, half hidden under an old tablecloth.

Kani's letters.

And worst of all, he began to read them. Every story, every secret, every doubt, everything was revealed to him.

Everything.

After that, he couldn't keep food down for a week.

Reed rubbed his eyes. He couldn't break down now. He had a mission. He had to-

He shook his head.

It was too much.

He needed to get out of here.

It was cold, so he fished through his bag and pulled on a dark jacket, leaving his uniform crumpled on the floor.

As he exited the room, he cast a glance at Lynn. She was still sleeping, covers pulled up to her chin. If he was lucky, she wouldn't even notice that he had left.

Reed closed the door.

The cool air felt good on his skin. He began to walk, hoping to ease the anxiety in his mind. It was the middle of the night and there was no one else around.

He ended up walking along Main Street for half a mile before he came across Glen Road. He stopped at the street corner, gazing up at the apartment building where Kani used to live.

He walked over and checked the front door. It was unlocked. He strolled in, glancing around the lobby.

Her apartment was on the third floor. The door was locked.

His hand slipped into his pocket, reaching for his lock picks.

'What the hell are you doing?'

He froze, jolting himself back to reality. How incredibly stupid could he be? What would he gain by breaking into Kani's old apartment?

Despite himself, he could not shake the urge to unlock the door and take a look around. It was in the middle of the night, he could be gone before anyone noticed.

Or he could get himself arrested.

'If you blow your cover, then everything would have been for nothing'

He rubbed his bracelet and turned to leave.

It took him a while to find the alley.

There was nothing noteworthy about it. People probably walked through it everyday, unaware of the immoral acts that took place there.

But this was where the switch happened.

This was where they murdered Logan Reed.

It was weird.

The entire eastern area was located on the edge of a desert. Even in the dead of night the weather never dipped below a slight chill.

And yet he was shaking.

He leaned his weary body against the alley wall.

Somewhere.

Somewhere in his wicked mind, he could justify Logan's death.

There wasn't any alternative plan. Logan had to be eliminated if he was going to take his place.

But Kani-

The sudden smell of blood sent him reeling. He pulled at his jacket, convinced that it had been soaked.

The moment passed, leaving him panting against the alley wall.

'You need to get out of here'

There was a convenience store next to the train station. Reed bought a map.

There were three roads going in and out of Parktown, but there was only one lake in the area. It was located close to the roads that lead to East City. Reed chuckled to himself, to think he had passed by it earlier that day.

He traced the lake. That was where his handler had dumped Logan and Kani's bodies.

He wondered if the bodies were still intact, if their remains would ever be recovered, or if they would remain there forever, lost to time.

He looked at the road again. The next time he drove along it, would probably be the closest he'll ever get to visiting their graves.

He spent the next hour memorizing that lake and the road that ran by it. He committed it to memory, so that he would know the exact moment the truck would pass by.

It was the tiniest bit of closure he could offer to himself.

When his legs could no longer support him, Reed returned to the inn.

Lynn was still sleeping, head buried under her pillows.

Reed shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. He crawled back into bed, not even attempting to go back to sleep.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling and wondered if it would snow this winter.

---

Lynn woke up at about six o'clock.

She sat up in her bed. Her hair was tousled, eyes drooping with sleep.

"Hey Reed," she called. Her voice was hoarse. "You there?"

"Yeah, I'm awake."

Lynn sighed and plopped back onto her bed.

"I don't want to get up," she said.

Reed sat up.

"We have to go back to the prison. See if the General responded or if there were any breakthroughs in the investigation," he said.

'Both of which are unlikely'

Lynn stayed silent, staring at the door.

"Is something wrong?" Reed asked. She was usually quite talkative.

"Did you sleep alright?"

"Yes," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing," Lynn said, shaking her head. "Let's get going."

---

"So you returned to the prison the next morning?"

"Yes, sir."

---

Reed rubbed his eyes, fatigue washing over him. They had been agonizing over the evidence for hours, searching for anything that would be of use. He let out a groan of defeat.

"There isn't much here to go on," he said.

Lynn cast him an accusatory glance.

"That's what I've been saying for the past two hours."

"I just wanted to see if I missed something yesterday," he said, tapping his fingers against the table.

After each attack, two masks and two pairs of gloves were recovered from the scene of the crime. Any amateur would be excited that the group had left evidence behind. However it was more likely that the group left the evidence only because they were certain it couldn't be traced back to them.

And they were probably right.

"Let's go back to the masks," Reed said.

"Only one store sells them in Parktown. They reported a pretty big robbery two months ago. A whole truck of merchandise was stolen. However there were no leads," Lynn said.

"And the gloves?" Reed asked.

Lynn nodded and began to read from the evidence report.

"The gloves are specially designed to withstand harsh chemicals. Lab gloves like these can only be found in two places in Parktown. Both of them did a full inventory after the third attack. No missing supplies."

"And outside Parktown?"

"Hasn't been investigated yet. The prison doesn't have the resources," Lynn said.

"Don't you think it's weird that these particular types of gloves are practically untraceable, but the masks were stolen?"

"But that's still assuming that the group robbed that store, which we have no proof of," Lynn paused. "Maybe we should go to the records room and look into the report that's there. It's probably more in depth than the evidence report."

Reed nodded. "But let's follow up on one more thing. These labs said they did a full inventory. Are we sure those reports are completely credible?"

Lynn was about to answer him when there was a sudden pounding of footsteps.

The door opened and Reed looked over, surprised to see Corporal Smith staggering into the room. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his brow.

"The Warden..." he panted. "She needs you... front of the prison... hurry."

"What happened?" Reed asked.

Smith swallowed, attempting to catch his breath.

"General Hayes... he's here."

"What?"

"Just arrived... two trucks with him…" Smith said. "He's really mad."

Reed sighed.

"Please put the files away for us. Davis, let's go."

They sprinted through the halls, almost slipping on the polished floor.

As they exited the prison doors, Reed slowed to a steady march. General Hayes was standing next to the Warden. Behind them were two additional trucks.

'Damn'

Reed's heart hammered in his chest. He shook his head, forcing himself to relax.

He stopped before his superior and saluted.

"General Hayes, sir."

Next to him, Lynn did the same.

There was this certain arrogance to General Hayes. His chin was always raised, chest puffed out ever so slightly. It was downright intimating.

The General turned to face them.

"Reed. Davis," he greeted bitterly. "Nice of you to finally show up."

Reed took a breath and braced for a lecture.

"Tell me," the General continued. "What mission did I assign you?"

"We were to transfer a prisoner from Parktown to East City," Reed said.

"Yes, and when were you to return by?"

"Nightfall. However-"

"And when did I give those instructions?" he asked.

"Yesterday, but-"

"And in any way were my instructions unclear?"

"No, but you failed to-"

"Save your excuses," the General spat.

Reed stared at his commanding officer, at loss at what to do. Behind Hayes, the Warden gave him a sympathetic look.

To his surprise, Lynn stepped forward.

"Okay," she said, addressing the General. "You're right. We should've proceeded with the transfer."

A smile slowly spread across Hayes' features. "See Lieutenant, this is the kind of attitude you should-"

"However protocol also mandates that prior to a prison transfer, the ranking officer reviews the files pertaining to the case," Lynn said. "And as of your arrival in Parktown, you are now the ranking officer."

If possible the General's face got even redder.

Reed knew what Lynn was doing. The General was going to transfer the prisoner if it was the last thing he did. There wasn't anything they could do about that.

However at the same time, the General would never disobey protocol. This gave them an opportunity, however unlikely, to convince him to delay the transfer.

The Warden stepped forward.

"I believe Corporal Smith has the keys to the records room," she said.

"Fine," Hayes said. "Lieutenant Reed and I will review the files. Warden, work with my other officers to prepare for the transfer."

Reed cringed. It was demeaning, first to deny the Warden from reviewing her own case and then to order her to do something so menial. However, if she was insulted, she didn't show it.

"Very well," she said.

General Hayes began to walk towards the prison.

Reed gave Lynn a smile. He would have to thank her later.

They ran into Corporal Smith in the hall and proceeded with him to the records room.

Reed clenched and unclenched his fists. It was clear to him what the General's plan was.

He had sent his two most compliant officers, failing to fully brief them on the mission. Then he had remained uncontactable, so that they had no further orders to draw on. He was clearly hoping that they would have proceeded with the transfer, for fear of disobeying orders. When that failed, he showed up in Parktown himself and demanded the transfer, his rank practically guaranteeing that no one could oppose him.

Furthermore, as long as the mission went smoothly, Eastern Command wouldn't care much about General Hayes' methods. In fact if Reed complained, he would only attract attention for not following orders in the first place.

It was aggravating, to say the least.

They entered the records room.

General Hayes tapped his foot impatiently as Smith struggled to open the file cabinet.

"Finally," Hayes said, once Smith had gotten the key to turn. "Now let me see this file."

Reed took the file from the Corporal and flipped it open to the first page. Notes from the previous day's interrogation stared back at him.

He furrowed his brow. Hadn't he put all the papers in chronological order?

"What's the hold up," General Hayes said.

Reed barely heard him. He turned to Corporal Smith.

"Yesterday, after we locked up. Did anyone touch this file?" Reed asked.

The Corporal shook his head. "No, I have the only set of keys and I lock those up in the Warden's office every night."

Reed's eyes went wide, looking at the file cabinet's sticky lock.

'Don't locks degrade if they are picked wrong?'

"Enough of this," General Hayes hissed, ripping the file from Reed's hands. He glanced over the papers once before marching away.

Reed cast an apologetic glance at the Corporal before following after his commanding officer. His boots clacked rapidly against the polished floor, trying to keep up.

"General," he said. "Please just hear me out."

The General stopped and turned, his face red with anger.

"Why did you disobey my orders?"

Reed swallowed. "When we arrived, we sat in on an interrogation with the prisoner. Like the Warden says, the prisoner is showing extremely unusual behavior. That itself warranted extreme caution. Furthermore, we have reason to conclude that he manufactured the acid used in the terrorist attacks. With those developments, I believe that it would be worthwhile to continue the investigation in Parktown."

"That's not a reason."

"General-"

"Don't you understand?" Hayes asked. "There are investigators in East City ten times as qualified as the ones here."

"Sir, you and I both know that if that prisoner reaches East City, he'll be executed before the week is out," Reed said. "It wouldn't matter that he's the only link to the terrorist group. Central Command doesn't care. We'll lose our only chance at catching these terrorists."

"If he truly manufactured the acid, then his death would be a profound blow to their organization," Hayes said.

"How can you be certain of that?" Reed said.

General Hayes shook his head and turned to leave.

"I've had enough of this. I'll go over the files myself. You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"We leave Parktown at noon. Until then, get out of my sight."

---

Reed fell silent and began to pick at the blood on his hands.

Mustang watched him for a few moments, before standing and walking over to the door.

Reed looked up, perplexed.

The Colonel called to someone in the hallway and spoke a few hushed sentences before closing the door once more.

Reed watched him sit back down.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. The Colonel seemed to be taking great interest in the file before him.

There was a knock on the door.

Mustang answered it. This time Reed caught a glimpse of a blond haired Lieutenant handing him something before the door was closed once more. The Colonel walked over and set a towel, a bowl of water, and what looked like a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide on the table.

"Here," he said. "For the blood."

Reed waited for him to sit back down before reaching for the towel.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"Anytime," Mustang said, looking back at the file. "Shall we continue?"

Reed nodded. He began to wipe the blood from his hands, slowly turning the white towel red.

---

They were ready to leave at 12 o'clock

Reed stood near the entrance of the prison and rubbed his bracelet.

'This is your last chance'

The doors opened and Corporal Smith appeared. He was escorting the prisoner, his hands tightly gripping the prisoner's shackles.

In spite of everything, the prisoner looked quite content with the situation. He was smiling, eyes closed, His head was turned towards the sun.

Reed approached him.

"I got him," he said, reaching for the shackles.

Corporal Smith looked at him.

"For what it's worth," Smith said. "Thank you for trying to help us."

Reed felt his throat tighten. If only he could get General Hayes to listen to him.

Reed forced himself to nod, before pulling the prisoner towards the direction of the trucks. He waited until they were out of earshot before speaking.

"What's your group planning?" Reed whispered.

"I don't know what you are talking about," the prisoner said.

"Don't play with me," Reed said. "I know that they broke into the records room. Mind telling me how they did that?"

Reed was almost certain that they had picked the locks. However the question still remained as to how the group managed to get into the prison to begin with. In Amestris, even minimum security was something to contend with. That was one reason why Reed hadn't told anyone else his findings, if there was an inside man, he couldn't risk tipping them off.

Reed racked his brain. How could they have done it?

Well, how does Drachma do it?

Reed turned toward the prisoner.

"Is the janitor an inside man?" he asked. "Do they come everyday and check for developments? Is that why the floors are so clean?"

The prisoner just smiled. "Well look at that, the puppet Lieutenant actually has a brain."

"Dammit, I'm trying to help you," Reed hissed. "If you reach East City, you'll be executed."

"Perhaps."

They were approaching the General's truck. A few more steps and they would be within earshot.

"Well if you're so certain, why don't you take your findings to your General?" the prisoner said.

Reed shook his head. He had already explained as much as he could. Any more would only raise suspicion.

"It's complicated."

"No it's not."

The other officers were approaching them now.

Reed leaned in closer. "What do you mean?"

"Well if I might share my theory," the prisoner said, looking him in the eye. "I think you have something to hide."

The other officers stepped forward.

"Good work, Lieutenant," one of them said. "We'll take him from here."

Reed watched helplessly as they pulled the prisoner away from him. The prisoner was quickly loaded into the back of the General's truck. As they were closing the door, the prisoner raised his hand in a halfhearted wave.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Reed," he said.

Reed's stomach twisted.

"Alright," General Hayes said. "Reed, Davis, you'll drive the lead truck. Kolen and I will be in the middle, with the prisoner. Rusford and Williams will take the rear."

Reed barely heard him. He was preoccupied with a totally different thought.

'You never told the prisoner your name'

Someone touched his forearm and Reed flinched.

Beside him, Lynn furrowed her eyebrows.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

"You know I can drive-"

"No," Reed said, taking out the keys. "I got it."

They got into the truck and Reed turned the transmission, the engine roaring to life.

General Hayes' voice cracked over the radio.

"Alright. We got an hour and a half drive back to East City. Let's hope it goes well. Over."

"Roger." Lynn replied.

Reed stared at the road ahead of them, pressing down on the gas pedal.

They began driving towards the outskirts of Parktown.

'1 hour from the lake'

Lynn rolled down her window.

"For what it's worth, I don't think this mission was a total loss," she said. "I mean, the General is going to be pissed for a while and we'll probably have to work overtime for a few weeks. But we'll get through it."

Reed nodded, but didn't say anything.

'55 minutes from the lake'

Reed looked out the window. They were passing green foliage now, slowly driving deeper and deeper into the forest.

From their last interaction, the prisoner seemed awfully calm.

What was going on?

What was he missing?

'50 minutes from the lake'

Reed gripped the steering wheel.

He was certain that he had never told the prisoner his name. Of course, it was possible that one of the other officers had simply told the prisoner, but Reed doubted that. The MPs never exposed information to prisoners. In fact the only officers that might have said something would be the Warden or Corporal Smith. However both had been unwilling to indulge in the prisoner's questions, so it was equally unlikely that they would have told him.

Was it possible that the prisoner had learned from the terrorist group?

It was plausible. After all, Reed already speculated that they broke into the records room. How much harder would it have been to slip the prisoner a note?

There was a reason why Reed had instantly suspected that the janitor was in league with the terrorist group. Janitors were just the easiest way to infiltrate Amestrian bases. They experienced minimum background checks, operated mainly at night when no one was around, and had full rein of the complex. That was how Drachma was able to infiltrate so many Amestrian bases. Reed wouldn't be surprised if every janitor in the country was an operative of some sort.

But if that was true and the terrorist group did have free rein of the entire prison, they probably had access to a variety of other things.

'40 minutes from the lake'

But it didn't matter anyway; General Hayes would never listen to him unless he had real evidence.

'30 minutes from the lake'

Maybe he was just overreacting.

It was possible that the lock was just old. The Warden could have looked over the file after everyone had left and messed up the order. The prisoner could have heard his name by accident and he could just be unusually clever, nothing more.

Practically all of Reed's suspicions could easily be explained.

Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

'15 minutes'

"Do you think what we did was wrong?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Lynn said.

"Do you think we should have proceeded with the prison transfer, in spite of what the Warden said," Reed said.

Lynn paused for a moment.

"I don't know," she said. "It definitely would've been easier for us. But then again, it's always easier to just follow orders."

Reed rubbed his bracelet, thinking over her words.

"But I still can't shake the feeling that something's wrong," Lynn said. "You saw the file. The terrorist group is ruthless. Do you think they would really stand by as their member was hauled off to his death?"

'10 minutes'

Lynn was right. The group wouldn't just sit by and let one of their members be executed.

They had to be plotting something.

'5 minutes'

Think.

If another Drachman spy was arrested, what might Reed be ordered to do?

The answer was easy, he would be ordered to free the spy. But how?

Well it really depended on where the prisoner was being kept. If they were being kept in a cell Reed would wait until a guard change. Maybe even steal the keys.

But what about a prison transfer?

Well, Reed would probably orchestrate an ambush.

'Oh, no'

If the group really had free rein of the prison, they could easily gain access to the official transfer request. So it was entirely possible that the terrorist group knew exactly where they were at the moment.

And here they were, driving along a secluded road, the closest city more than half an hour away.

Reed's heart beat in his chest.

Three armored trucks and six armed officers. Would they really take that risk?

They were passing the lake now.

Reed looked out the window and into the green foliage. It was so thick; he couldn't even see the lake. He began to turn his head back. But for the briefest moment; he saw a flash of red. He looked again, but it was gone.

Reed picked up the radio.

"I think I saw something in the tree line. Over," he said.

There was an audible sigh over the radio.

"What did it look like? Over," General Hayes asked.

"It was a flash of red. Might've been a car or some other vehicle. Over."

"Probably just abandoned. Over."

"General-"

"Lieutenant Reed, I've had enough of your suspicions. Over and out."

Well that was it. He'd tried to warn them. Any further action would just further jeopardize his cover.

Reed turned the steering wheel. They were rounding a rather large curve, the road slowly coming into view, so that Reed couldn't see that far ahead of the truck.

Having spent the better half of last night pouring over a map, Reed knew that if there was going to be an ambush, it would likely happen somewhere along here. He looked to the side. Sure enough he saw a dark figure sulking behind the tree line. He looked back at the road in front of him.

He thought of his family and tried to keep his eyes on the road. There just wasn't anything else he could do.

Right?

Against his better judgment, he let his eyes waver to Lynn. She was gazing out the open window, fingers tapping against her knee.

The sudden image of Kani's bloody body jolted through his mind.

His eyes flashed back to the road.

Just in time to see a tree blocking the path.

His mind screamed.

He slammed his foot on the brakes. Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, he slipped his gun from his holster, raised it, and fired a shot through Lynn's open window.

Far behind the tree line, a dark figure fell.

'One'

Lynn yelped, flinching backward, eyes wide with fear.

Reed didn't wait to explain.

"Get that window up!" he shouted, his voice quickly drowned out as gunshots exploded around them.

Reed took a breath, forcing himself to focus.

He heard a thud to his right. A quick glance confirmed that a bullet had hit the window. The window was bullet resistant, so it hadn't shattered, but spider web-like cracks had begun to spread. Reed knew it couldn't withstand multiple direct shots.

Reed looked out the window. Far beneath the undergrowth, he could make out four shadowy figures.

He cracked open the top of his window, just enough to fit the barrel of his gun, aimed, and fired.

'Two. Three. Four. Five'

"I can't get a clear shot!" Lynn said. She had left her window open a crack as well, but was firing blindly.

Reed gazed out his window. They were still on the curve. From this current angle, he couldn't see the trucks behind them.

"What are the other trucks doing?" Reed asked.

Lynn craned around in her seat. "The third truck is reversing, but the second hasn't moved. They're taking heavy fire."

Reed stared at the downed tree in front of them. There was no way he could go around it. And if the second truck couldn't move, they were stuck as well.

Lynn hunched down in her seat. There were a few loud cracks as more bullets hit her window. Reed stared at the glass; it wasn't going to hold for long.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Reed climbed over. He stuck the barrel of his gun through the crack and took aim.

'Six. Seven. Eight'

"You okay?" Reed asked, moving back to his seat.

"I think so," Lynn said. She looked out the window. "They're breaking into the second truck!"

Reed cursed and placed the gun on his lap.

"Hold on," he said. Without a second thought, Reed switched the truck into reverse. The vehicle lurched. Reed stopped after only a moment, not trusting himself with his limited vantage point. He then switched back into drive and started to make a U-turn.

He gritted his teeth as they awkwardly swerved. The truck shook as they ran over a few bushes, going way too close to the tree line for his own liking.

Reed brought the truck to a stop.

He had managed to turn the truck around so that they were now facing the ambush.

The second truck had in fact not moved. The right window had shattered and it seemed like the front windshield was on the verge of breaking.

With the officers pinned down, there were a few people sprinting towards the truck.

Reed raised his gun.

'Nine. Ten'

Reed was out of bullets. He reached to reload his gun.

He cringed as the windshield was hit a few times. Cracks began to spread, limiting his vision.

Beside him, Lynn fired off a few shots.

More cracks spread as their windows were repeatedly hit. Reed gritted his teeth. If the glass broke, they would lose their only layer of protection.

Reed took a breath, forcing himself to remain calm. The group's goal was likely to free the prisoner, nothing more. They did not intend to have a long firefight with the military, they only wanted to free a single person. In this situation, they would likely just be laying heavy cover until someone was able to retrieve the prisoner.

Reed stuck the barrel of his gun out the window and aimed the best he could.

Sure enough there were more people running towards the second truck.

'Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen'

Reed ducked as more bullets hit the windshield. He scanned the tree line, but didn't see any figures.

"They're not giving up," Lynn said.

"As long as that truck is pinned down, they're not going to," Reed said. Most likely the group would just bide their time until they had finally run out of ammunition. Then they could do whatever they wanted.

Perhaps a change in tactic.

"Hold on," Reed said, hitting the gas.

The truck lunged forward and they bolted down the road. For a moment it seemed as if Reed was simply abandoning the scene. However, once they had almost passed the second truck, he turned the wheel.

There was an awful metal screech as their truck's left side scraped against the back of the other truck. Reed hit the brakes and looked to his left. Sure enough, they were now physically blocking the door. It was a risky tactic, but it effectively blocked the prisoner in.

Now, in order to free the prisoner, the group would have to move the trucks themselves. And if they tried that, Reed would easily be able to shoot them.

It seemed as if the group had noticed this as well, the gunshots having ceased.

Reed glanced through the forest, no longer able to make out any figures.

"Call for backup," he said.

Lynn nodded and reached for the radio.

---

"How are the others?" Reed asked.

Mustang looked up from his papers.

"What do you mean?"

Reed swallowed.

"Once we arrived in East City. I saw General Hayes and his aid being taken to the hospital. The rest of us were separated so our statements could be collected. I want to know if everyone is alright," Reed said.

Mustang looked at him sympathetically.

"I heard that the General and his aid were still in the hospital. They had the most substantial injuries, but after a week or two they should be all right. The two officers in the third truck as well as Sergeant Davis had minor injuries that were treated here at the base. I believe their statements have been already collected and they have been sent home," Mustang said.

Reed nodded. He was honestly glad that everyone had turned out okay. However, another thought pried at his mind.

They had waited until they had collected everyone's testimonies, before collecting his.

This wasn't good.

Mustang rearranged the files before him.

"Can you give me an estimate of how many attackers there were?" Mustang asked.

"I couldn't see most of them," Reed said. "But I would guess at least twenty."

"How many times did you fire your weapon?" Mustang asked.

Thirteen.

"I remember reloading it once, so it had to be at least ten," Reed said.

"Now, of those shots, how many do you believe actually hit their targets?" Mustang asked.

"I don't know," Reed said. "It all happened so fast."

Mustang made a note.

"As I mentioned before Sergeant Davis has already given her report. She happened to mention some interesting things. Apparently she had woken up in the middle of the night and found that you weren't there. Furthermore, she claims that you were the first to fire your weapon, even before the terrorists. Now, this surely raises more than a few questions. So it was decided to look further into the matter."

Reed stared at Mustang for a moment, dread washing over him. His heart beat in his chest and he scrambled to come up with an excuse.

"Last night I went out for a walk," he said. "I couldn't sleep so I went out to clear my head. As for being the first to fire, I had already seen something in the forest, so I was already alert. It's just a coincidence that I spotted one of the targets before everyone else."

Mustang looked at him, unbelieving.

Reed racked his brain, trying to guess what the Colonel could be thinking.

"Can you tell me what type of gun you carry?" Mustang asked.

Reed blinked.

"It's a standard .45 caliber semi-automatic pistol," he said.

Mustang nodded, flipping through the file.

"In the end, we recovered eighteen bodies from the site and there is evidence of at least five of others escaping," Mustang said. "Now, you have no knowledge of this, but a few days ago there was a malfunction with a .45 caliber gun. It's not serious, but as a precaution, the Command Center mandated that each gun be inspected. So last night, all officers in Eastern Command temporarily switched to 9mm handguns."

Reed felt his blood run cold.

Mustang continued. "Now, as Sergeant Davis and yourself stayed the night in Parktown, you obviously weren't able to switch out your guns. There's nothing wrong with that. It just means that we can clearly differentiate between who Sergeant Davis or yourself shot versus everyone else."

Reed knew what Mustang was talking about .45 caliber and 9mm have notable differences in exit wounds. Telling them apart is child's play.

"Now of the eighteen people we have recovered. Can you guess how many were shot with a .45 caliber?"

"No, sir."

"Fourteen," Mustang said.

Reed felt his stomach drop.

"Now Sergeant Davis only fired six shots. And of those six, she recounts hitting someone three times." Mustang pulled something from the file. "Do you recognize this?"

Reed glanced over.

"It's one of the targets we use in the shooting range," he said.

"Correct. In fact, this is from your yearly assessment last month. Ten shots, from a distance of 40 feet (12 meters). You managed to land eight on the target, but as you can see they are all off center. All in all, not bad."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Reed asked.

"You see Lieutenant, today you fired thirteen shots. Conveniently, of the eighteen bodies recovered, only thirteen had been shot once. Each was shot with a .45 caliber, the bullets hitting critical areas. Most were recovered from well behind the tree line from over 50 feet (15 meters) away. In other words you managed to hit all of your targets while shooting with minimum visibility and out of a window nonetheless." Mustang folded his hands. "You've been in the military since you were eighteen. Never before have you shown this kind of skill."

Reed bit his tongue.

He had grown up in the Briggs Mountains. For heaven sakes, he'd hunted bears during blizzards. Shooting with minimum visibility was his specialty. However Logan Reed had mediocre aim at best, so he had been purposefully missing on assessments. It had worked up until now.

But how the hell could he explain this.

"Well, Lieutenant," Mustang said. "Do you have an explanation?"

Reed knew it was pointless.

"I would rather not say," he said.

Mustang looked at him.

"This is a mission debriefing. It is your obligation as a soldier to disclose everything that has happened," Mustang said.

"I already did. I told you exactly what happened and everything I was suspicious of. Now I have nothing left to say," Reed said.

For a brief second, something seemed to cross Mustang's eyes, but then it was gone.

Reed's heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he felt like it may burst.

He was in serious trouble.

The military could easily decide to investigate the matter further. They could go to his apartment and see that he hadn't unpacked a thing. Worse, they could recover Kani's letters, proof that he had a personal connection to Parktown. Then there was Kani, "his" girlfriend who went missing right when he transferred to East City. The moving company was aware that Logan Reed had stopped for a night in Parktown. If they found that out, everything else would come crashing down.

Reed felt tears swell in his eyes.

If he blew his cover now, all of his struggles would have been for nothing.

"Do you have any further comment?" Mustang asked.

Reed shook his head.

Mustang sighed and began to collect the papers.

"Well then, this debriefing is over. You'll be dismissed within the hour," he said.

Reed watched as the Colonel stood and began to leave.

"May I ask you a question, Colonel?"

Mustang looked over.

"Go ahead."

Reed bit his lip. "What's going to happen to me?"

Mustang paused.

"You've always been a model officer. Your recent actions and behaviors do not reflect that. Like I said, never before have you shown this kind of behavior or skill. In the end, it really depends on what the higher ups decide. This incident will be reviewed several times, probably by the Fuhrer himself. Your refusal to give an explanation only makes things more complicated. Every action you made in the last 24 hours will be scrutinized," Mustang paused. "Are you sure you don't have any further comment?"

"No, sir."

Mustang sighed and turned away.

He put his hand on the doorknob, when he paused again.

"Under the circumstances, you did the best you could. The results weren't perfect, but then again, nothing in this world is."

And then he was gone.

---

That night, there was a knock on Reed's door.

It took him a moment to recognize the sound. Slowly he stood, legs weak as he crossed his apartment. One of his neighbors had probably locked themselves out or perhaps his landlord had come over to discuss something.

The doorknob felt cool in his hand. He took a breath, attempting to compose himself. He couldn't afford to break down now.

He opened the door.

His handler was standing on his doorstep. Before he could say anything, she pushed her way inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

She quickly turned to him.

"What the hell did you do?"

Reed blinked.

"You can't be here," he said. "You'll be seen-"

"Does it look like I care?" she said. "Now tell me what you did."

Reed took a step backward. "What have you heard?

"That Eastern Command is investigating you. Something about acting extremely suspicious during a mission to Parktown," she said.

Reed pursed his lips.

"That sounds about right."

His handler's eyes went wide and she cursed. Reed watched as she began to pace around the room.

"Look, I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to hear it," she said, rubbing her temples. "Tell me everything that happened."

Reed sighed and recounted the events of the past two days.

Once finished, he looked up. His handler was standing quietly, her expression unreadable.

She gestured to the couch.

"Sit."

Reed did as she said.

His handler sat down next to him. She let out a sigh.

"You've never jeopardized your cover before. So why now?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he said.

His handler shook her head. "You know better than to do something so foolish. And in Parktown nonetheless. You have ties to that town, you can't..."

She trailed off, realization hitting her. She looked him in the eyes.

"Does this have anything to do with Kani?"

He looked away.

His handler let out a long sigh.

"You really need to let that go," she said. "Kani is dead. Nothing can change that."

He shook his head. "But she wasn't supposed to die. I should have-"

"Stop it," she said. "Agonizing over it won't do you any good."

"I can't just pretend it didn't happen," he said.

"In most cases I would agree with you. But as it is starting to affect your judgement, you just have to let it go," she said.

"But I don't want to."

His handler's eyes widened in fury.

"Don't you understand!? You're being reckless! The accuracy of your aim. Your investigation skills. Your reluctance to leave Parktown. All of that jeopardizes your cover. And if you lose your cover, you will have no more use for our country. They will kill you to cover their tracks! Then as a warning, they will kill your family, just to show everyone what happens when you defy the military!"

"You think I don't know that!" he shouted. "Believe me, I am painfully aware of how disposable I am." He took a shaky breath, eyes watering. "I can't sleep anymore. I barely eat. I am stressed and paranoid all the time."

The tears were unbearable now.

Something within him broke and before he knew it, he was sobbing, his entire body shaking as he cried.

Without a word, his handler stood and left the room. She returned a moment later, blanket in hand. And before he could protest, she draped it over his shoulders.

The action only caused him to sob harder. He pulled the fabric close, clinging to it desperately.

His handler rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You fool," she said. "You stupid fool."

He closed his eyes tight, tears streaming down his face nonetheless.

The weight of his responsibilities was unbearable.

He was just tired, so entirely exhausted.

He wanted nothing more than to escape, to leave behind all his pain and heartache.

But that simply wasn't possible.

He was a soldier of the Drachman military. He was impersonating an Amestrian officer. Furthermore, he had jeopardized his cover, something which endangered both himself and his family.

And there was nothing he could do to fix it.

Worse, even when he tried to do something good, something as simple as investigating a terrorist group or stopping a young Sergeant from getting shot, everything came crashing down.

There were just no rights in this world of wrongs.

And he was just so tired.

"I just felt the need to do something," he sobbed. "The military wasn't interested in investigating the terrorists. Everyone could see it. So when the opportunity arose to stay in Parktown, I took it. And then when the ambush started, I... I just couldn't let them get hurt, not when I could stop it."

His handler nodded.

"So you chose to save everyone."

'And damned yourself instead'

He felt more tears spill down his cheeks.

"What should I do now?" he asked.

His handler sighed and stood up.

"Not much. Wait. Keep your head down. Don't do anything stupid from now on." She looked around the room. "If Eastern Command starts an investigation. You'll need to purge your apartment of any incriminating evidence."

Reed looked dimly at the unpacked boxes around him. He didn't think he could get himself to eat dinner, let alone go through all these boxes.

His handler seemed to notice his expression.

"Go get some sleep," she said.

"What?"

"You look like you're about to collapse. Go get some rest. I'll make sure the boxes are taken care of," she said.

Reed felt tears prick at his eyes. "Thank you."

He stood up and began to walk in the direction of his bedroom when he stopped.

"If you were in my place, what would you have done?"

His handler looked away.

"Just go get some sleep."

---

Author's Note:

Excluding the effect the Parktown Incident has on Reed, this chapter is self-contained. Currently, I do not plan on having the terrorist group, the prisoner, Lynn Davis, or General Hayes making a reappearance.

Fun Fact:

The reason why the prisoner asked where the fourth attack was, is because any officer who had been fully briefed on the mission would likely know everything about the terrorist group's activities. The fact that Reed didn't know, told the prisoner that Reed's presence wasn't all that important and he was probably just running errands for someone else. This was supported by the fact that Reed didn't react to the prisoner's taunts. Someone who was emotionally invested in the cast would have reacted like Corporal Smith did, but Reed didn't.