AN: Ok, guys, first off, Thanks for all the reviews! Ok, now what I was really getting at, there are a lot of parts to this chapter. I should probably have spilt it up into more then one chapter, but I don't think you'd want to wait any longer to see what happened between Riza and Grimm, ne? So, just bare with me and I apologize if there's any confusion!
Catharine Lewie Rain: "Say oooweee shut my month slap your grandma!" That's such a great song. I've never heard, 'Men are Like Shoes' before. Can you picture Riza in an outfit like that? Knowing Riza I really can't. It may be kind of cool if she did though.
Flava Sava: LOL, WE SHOULD! That'd make a great video. I have idea what scenes from the anime we could use or anything, but the thought of it made me laugh XD. How come we never talk anymore?
MoonStarDutchess: I wouldn't say they were boring. Well, to an extent maybe, if you compare them with the Royai chapters then yeah they are, but if you read them in general I don't think so. Anyway, I'm not offended at all. The last chapter was kind of boring, I know it was. When I reread it I yawned a lot XD. This one is MUCH funnier. The other one was sort up a build up for this. It'll be a lot better now. Also, last time this fic was up I let the readers vote if they wanted an office chapter or not. The vote was 'yes' if you can't tell. So blame them not me XD. Yeah, everything has its boring parts. Even movies on TV and such. It wouldn't seem normal it didn't have at least one, ne?
The Way to a Man's Heart Isn't by Crushing His Ego Chapter 38: Christmas in July
"Well?" the little old man asked as he glared at the three soldiers. His body shook and spit flew out of his moth as he spoke. Some of the scary affects of ageing.
"Uh…" Hughes said as he stared down at the old man. "We just needed to borrow some supplies."
"NO!" the janitor snapped angrily. His outburst shocked Hughes, Havoc, and Armstrong. "Every time someone wants to borrow my things they ruin them, or never give them back!" he roared and pulled a broom out from the cleaning cart, holding it up defensively. The broom shook back and forth as it was held in the unsteady, liver spotted hands of the old man.
Whoa… Havoc thought as he looked the man over. He has to be like… 90 years old. Why hasn't he retired… or died?
"Excuse me, sir," Armstrong said as he took a few steps toward the old man, thinking he could get through to him, "I can assure you we will not damage your tools. We want nothing more then a bucket, a mop, and some soap. I promise you I will give the items my up most care."
The little man's blue eyes studied Armstrong as his head unsteadily shook back and forth on his skinny shoulders. The small blue pupils moved up and down Armstrong's large body. His tongue came out of his mouth for a moment to wet his dry cracking lips. This reviling he had but two teeth.
"Please?" Havoc asked, wanting to get the cleaning done and go home. Then it hit him. I can't go home. I have to work today…
"No!" he snapped again. He looked like one of those men you see on the crazy floor at the old folk's home, holding that broom, and that evil glare in his eye. People like him are often found at 'the home'. Either they think rats are trying to rule the earth and all the nurses are in on it. Or they have flashbacks of a war they were never apart of, a war that never even happened.
"Come on, we only need a little soap," Hughes said with a friendly smile. Havoc was seen behind him. The blond-haired man was crying those milk tears as the realization that he wouldn't get to sleep till late that night set in.
"No!" the janitor scoffed again. He was dead set on keeping all his supplies this time.
Hughes sighed, "Then I'm afraid you give me no choice." he said as he reached into the closet and grabbed the nasty smelling mop. He then held it, the disgusting end pointed at the small old man. The end of the rag-like mop dripped some green looking liquid as Hughes held it in the air.
Hey… Havoc thought as he looked at the green substance dripping of the mop. It looks like that green slime from the dumpster…
"I don't think this is a good idea, Major Hughes," Armstrong said. He knew the man was old, frail, and crazy. Hughes attacking him could result in a broken hip or worse.
"Nope, I warned him," Hughes replied. "Unguard!" he said with a playful smile as his glasses lit up. The two cleaning tools hit together and engaged in battle.
….Back at the gangsters' town….
It had stopped raining and the sun was coming out here as well. Back in the building Roy had fallen through the floor in, sat Ice and Saff. Saff was trying to nurse Ice's wounded arm.
"Ouch!" he whined as Saff tried to tie a ripped piece of cloth around his wound, "It hurts!" he snapped as the 14 year old girl pulled the rags tightly around his arm.
"Don't be a baby. It says right here that it will work," Saff replied as she held up a book titled, '101 Useful Remedies for the Everyday Senior'. She smiled as she read the huge yellow book. "It's a good thing old people have poor circulation, huh? I'd never know how to make a tunicate out nothing after falling in the tub while taking a shower, after an attempted escape from 'the home'."
"Whatever," Ice replied bitterly. "I don't have poor circulation! This isn't going to work!"
Saff smiled proudly as she read the papers, "If I pull hard enough it will!" she shouted as she set the book down at her side and yanked hard on the makeshift bandage with both hands. "Don't worry, Ice. You won't have good circulation after this, and it's all thanks to me!"
….Back at Central…. (Aren't I so evil? Mwahahahah!)
"Run faster!" Hughes shouted as he and the other two dashed down one of the halls.
"Get back here!" they could hear the old man calling from behind them.
Armstrong glanced back to see the janitor pushing himself in the supply cart after them. He sat in the bin of the cart. He pushed himself along with the broom, much like people did when rowing in a row boat, only with one paddle. He was catching up at an amazing pace.
"Hughes! Why did you steal his supplies?" Havoc cried as he ran. Hughes had the mop in his hand, while Havoc held the disgusting bucket one hand and the bottle of soap in the other.
"I didn't!" Hughes replied as they ran, "I was engaged in a deadly mop battle at the time. It was in fact you who stole them," he replied calmly. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, HAVOC!" He snapped as they ran.
The other soldiers jumped to the side, trying to avoid a head on collision with the military dogs and the janitor.
"Only because you ordered me too!" Havoc snapped back. He ran next to Hughes. Armstrong followed quickly behind them, not saying a word.
"Did anyone ever tell you not to do everything someone tells you to do? If I told you to jump off a bridge, would you do it?" Hughes asked as they rounded a corner. Havoc was too busy running to reply to that comment. That and he didn't want to get in trouble for whatever response he could have come up with.
"Whoa!" a man shouted as he jumped out of the way in the nick of time. He sat on the floor, a confused expression on his face as he saw the crazy little man speed past him.
"Get back here!" the little man shouted. The wheels on his cart squeaked as they went at a much faster speed then they were designed for.
Hughes and Havoc continued bickering as they raced around the Central building, unsure if they should head for the office with the janitor following them.
"Take this!" the old man yelled as he pulled something out of his cart.
"Watch it," Armstrong said as a sponge came barreling toward them.
"Ewwww!" Havoc groaned as something hit him in the back of the head. It was wet and squishy.
"What was that?" Hughes asked.
"I don't think I want to know," Havoc replied.
"Believe me," Armstrong said as they ran, "You really don't."
This little chase continued for 15 more minutes, finally the men rounded a really sharp corner. This corner was too sharp for the cart. It toppled over in the turn.
"Noooo!" the little man yelled as he felt his cart overturn. "AHHHH! MY HIP!" the soldiers heard the man's voice radiate through the halls as they ran on.
"Sorry!" Hughes replied, not slowly down any.
"Are you alright?" one of the soldiers asked as he walked over to the small man and put his cart right side up, then proceeded to lift the old janitor off the ground.
"I will be…" he replied as his back cracked when he was pulled up. "Oh, stop, put me back down!" he shouted as a sharp pain radiated in his pelvis.
"Do you want me to get a doctor?" another man asked.
"No," the old man replied. "I'll be fine. Just go to my janitor's closet and get my book, '101 Useful Remedies for the Everyday Senior'. I'm sure they'll have the answer I need in there."
The two men just looked at each other in confusion.
"Yes!" Hughes said as he sat on the floor of the office. "We did it!"
"Uh…Sir…" Havoc said. He was sitting not to far from Hughes. His voice was full of disbelief.
"Hm?" Hughes and Armstrong glanced over at him.
Havoc held the soap bottle in his hand. It was turned upside down and he squeezed it hard. "There's no soap in here…"
Hughes just stared at him comrades. His expression was blown away and what looked like a misshapen smile was plastered on his face. "Are you sure?" he asked as he became curious and he stood up, walking next to Havoc.
"Yeah," the sandy-blond man replied as he held the opening of the bottle over his eye. His blue pupil trying to see in the small round hole.
"Maybe it just needs to be squeezed harder," Hughes suggested as he grabbed the bottle with both hands and clenched his fingers tight.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Havoc's pain induced scream was heard throughout the entire building. Birds were seen flying away outside as the shriek made the walls vibrate.
"Well, it's empty now…" Hughes said as he took the bottle from Havoc.
"IT BURNS!" Havoc cried as he lay belly down on the floor, both hands over his soap filled eye. His boots dug into the floor as the pain gave him a sudden adrenaline rush.
"Here, Havoc!" Armstrong shouted. "Gaze into my bulging forceps! Their greatness will relive any pain your eyes possess!" he said as his shirt was ripped off and the light and sparkles appeared, shining brightly and not failing to lose any of their splendor.
"The light…IT BURNS!" Havoc shouted as he squirmed around the disgusting black floor.
"Uh…" Hughes cut in after a few moments of Armstrong posing and Havoc trying to drag his seemingly limp body out from under the blinding light. "I don't think that's working, Major."
"Hm?" Armstrong looked at him in disbelief.
"Your godly muscles are just too much for his eyes right now," he replied and looked down at the squirming Lieutenant.
"Hmmmm…" Armstrong made one of his noises as he stared down at Hughes. His mind registering what the other Major was saying. "What do we do now?" he asked. He somehow managed to pull his shirt back on in those two seconds and was now standing like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Havoc was still rolling on the floor in front of them.
"We'll have to get our own," Hughes replied.
"How do we do that, sir?" Armstrong asked.
"Take Havoc back to the bathroom, wash his eye out, and I'll tell you," Hughes replied as his glasses lit up.
Armstrong just nodded and grabbed Havoc, who was still doubled over in pain. He slung the blond man over his shoulder and carried him to the nearest restroom.
Hughes sat patiently and waited for his friends to return. His glasses lit up again and gained a menacing grin that stretched ear to ear.
After about 15 minutes Hughes could tell they were finished as Havoc's screaming voice subside. The square shaped glasses never lost their bright glare as he sat quietly. A few moments later he heard the door open and close.
"Back already?" Hughes asked with a smile as he turned to look at his comrades.
Armstrong nodded. Havoc stood next to him. It didn't seem like he was in pain anymore, but his eye was all red. You could tell something had gotten into it.
"Feeling better, Havoc?" Hughes asked.
Havoc just glared at him. "Next time… you test the bottle…"
"…Ok…?" he replied nervously.
"What was that plan you had, sir?" Armstrong asked wanting to get off the soap subject.
"Oh yeah!" Hughes shouted as a big grin appeared on his face and his glasses lit up again. "We need to get our own soap!"
"How?" Armstrong asked.
"Ah, that is an excellent question. I was thinking that over while you were gone."
"Did you come to a conclusion?" Armstrong asked. Havoc just stood next to him, glaring.
"Yes, I did," Hughes replied, "It's quite simple. The Central building holds several different soap bottles I'm sure. We just need to spilt up and find them!"
Havoc looked at Hughes. His expression half glaring, the other half curious, "And just how do we do that?"
Hughes and Armstrong stared for a minute. "Did I not just say that?" Hughes asked. "We spilt up!"
"And go where?" he asked.
"Simple!" Hughes replied as he pulled three small soap bottles seemly out of nowhere. "Armstrong, you go to the bathrooms, and Havoc, you go to the kitchen!"
"Hey!" Havoc snapped. "Why do I have to go to the kitchen?"
"Because," Hughes replied, "You already know what to expect."
"But…" Havoc tried to retaliate, but Armstrong cut in.
"And where are you going?" the large man asked.
"I have my resources," Hughes replied with an evil smile. Armstrong stared and Havoc glared. He wanted to kill Hughes, but he knew he'd get in trouble. If it wasn't for that threat, he'd have killed Hughes along time ago, and he would have made those damn pictures watch. "Alright, we're off troops! Good luck!"
20 minutes later there is much commotion heard in one of the offices.
"Give it back!" a short man snapped as he chased Hughes around the small office. In the middle of the office sat only one desk. In the back of the room was a bare wall with a few windows, the other walls were hidden behind bookcases, full of books and files.
"Come on, Herb. We only need it for a little bit," Hughes replied as he dashed away from the strange solider. They had been running around the desk in circles since Hughes arrived and swiped the small bottle of soap off the top of Herb's desk.
"I don't care!" Herb snapped. "Give it!" he shouted. Herb was a very short man indeed. He was considered the 'nerd of the military'. He was a germaphobic, meaning he needed to clean constantly to keep away any germs that might arise. He had frizzy red hair and thick black glasses. On his uniform he wore a pocket protector and his pants were pulled up so high it almost appeared that they touched his armpits. His underwear was pulled up even more so. His shirt was crammed tightly into his pants... well... his underpants... The white band of his tightly-whities shown vividly around his waist... or… chest… and was pulled down inch by inch as he scrambled after his soap's kidnapper.
"Yah!" Hughes shouted as he ran, almost tripping over a leg of the desk. "Owwww!" he whined as he bashed his knee on the wood of the desk. He was now partly hopping as he tried to stay away from Herb.
"Give it!" Herb snapped again as he jumped over the desk and tackled Hughes from behind. "I… need… CLEAN!" he shouted as they hit the floor with a thud. Hughes tried to scramble away, but Herb kept pulling him back. Then Hughes turned over on his back, so Herb was sitting on his stomach. Then he began his fight with the Major.
"We only need it for a little bit!" Hughes replied. One hand pushing against Herd's face, the other held the bottle, up and out of Herb's grasp.
In the bathroom we see Armstrong standing by the sink. He is by the mirror… pushing the little button on the soap dispenser that releases the soap. He held the small bottle under the small opening in the dispenser. Just pushing and pushing away, awaiting for the pink soap to stop flowing.
A toilet flushed and a small figure walked out of the stall. "Hello, Major sir," Fury said as he walked to the sinks. "Umm… what are you doing?" he asked curiously.
"Getting soap for Major Hughes," Armstrong replied, not removing his eyes from his mission. The soap continued to slide out slowly.
"I…see…" Fury said an unsure expression on his face. "Sir, are you alright?" he asked as he watched Armstrong. The big man was so concentrated on the soap. His face was mere inches from it. It almost looked like a dog about to herd its sheep. It stayed very close, not moving its gaze from those sheep, ready to pounce if they strayed from the flock.
"Yes, why would you ask that, Sergeant Major Fury?" Armstrong asked, still not removing his eyes from the pink liquid.
"Uh…. no reason…?" was all the child-like solider could think to say.
The muscle man didn't say anything in reply.
"Ok…?" Fury replied. He was about to leave then he remembered something. "Um... Sir?"
"Yes?"
"Some soap, please?" Fury asked as he held out his hands.
…In the mess hall kitchen…
"Get back here!" the large chef's voice was heard as the sound of pots crashing to the floor radiated through the area.
"AHHHHHH, PLEASE! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Havoc's voice cried as the destructive noises continued.
"Hold him!" the little mobster chef shouted, "Hold him and I'll begin the weenie roast!"
"NUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOO!" Havoc shouted. "Ow! Watch it! Those prongs are sharp!" he growled as the small man poked him in the butt with the two pronged fork. Both hands covered his buttocks as he rounded the counter.
"Come here, li'l man," the other chef said as he chased him.
Havoc ran as fast as he could, watching his footing so he didn't trip over the discarded pots. I got it! His eyes widened when he saw the orange dish soap sitting on the sink. He charged toward it.
"Stop! Or I'll cut you off at the knees!" the little chef snapped as he ran after Havoc, but his short legs proved too slow against Havoc's long ones.
"Sorry," Havoc replied as he neared the sink. He reached across the disgusting dirty pots and plates and grabbed the container. He smirked as the chefs ran toward him. Thanks for the idea, Hughes. He said as his smirk grew a little more.
"I hope you guys know all those nasty recipes by heart, cause you're not gonna be reading for awhile!" he shouted as he squeezed the small bottle.
"GGGRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" the chefs screeched as they grabbed at their eyes like two wild men.
"Not again!" the bigger chef snapped. Havoc and done this too him the last time he was here.
"Sorry, does that sting?" he asked as he watched the two men fall to the floor, screaming out in pain and agony. "Cold water helps," he said. From the corner of his eye he saw the silver spatula setting on the stove. "I'll just take this," Havoc said as he leaned over on his tip toes and reached his arm across the stove, grabbing the spatula that sat on the other end of it. "I'll see you at lunch," he chuckled with an evil grin as he dashed out of the room, soap and spatula in hand.
…Back at the office…
"Oooohhhhhhoooo…" Hughes moaned as he sat on the floor. His face was covered in scratches and a few band-aids from Herd's fingernails. "Where is he?"
"Still on the mission," Havoc replied as he sat on the other end of the room, leaning against the wall.
"How long does it take to get soap from a dispenser?" Hughes asked. The boredom of waiting was killing him.
"Dunno," Havoc replied, "I'll be sure to ask him when he gets back."
"Right…" Hughes said as he flopped back on the floor. His eyes fixed on the ceiling. I wonder if Gracia misses me yet? He wondered, and then he rolled over on his side, still thinking about it. Suddenly he began crying those milk tears and started rolling back and forth on the floor like a mad man. "Oh my poor Gracia! I can't stand to think she's upset and missing me! It should be against the law to keep a good woman like her waiting like this!" he cried.
Havoc just watched. His expression wasn't shocked, impressed, or curious; it appeared that this was nothing out of the ordinary.
A few moments later they heard the door open. Hughes stopped rolling around and looked up toward the door. In the doorway he saw Armstrong.
"I'm sorry," the strong man replied as he closed the door behind him, "Have I kept you waiting long?"
"Yes!" Hughes snapped in a whiny voice as he sat back up.
Armstrong glanced over at Havoc.
"Only 10 minutes," Havoc replied.
Armstrong nodded then looked back to Hughes. "Here," he said as he held out the bottle. It was full to the very top with pink soap.
"Ah, good!" Hughes shouted as his smile returned and he took the bottle from Armstrong. Then he got up and walked over to the bucket that sat in the middle of the room. It was already filled with disgusting, murky, dark water. "Do you have yours, Havoc?" he asked as he looked over at the blond-haired man.
Havoc returned his question with a sigh and stood up, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the orange soap bottle.
"That's it?" Hughes asked as he took the bottle from his co-worker. It was almost empty.
"Sorry," Havoc replied, "I had to defend myself."
Hughes and Armstrong just stared at him confused.
"OK!" Hughes said as his glasses lit up. "Now we just mix it all together and presto!" he shouted as he began dumping the soap into the bucket. He dumped Havoc's orange soap and Armstrong's pink soap first, and then he pulled the bottle from his pocket and dumped the clear liquid into the mixture.
"Where'd you get that from?" Havoc asked as the last of the soap slid out from Hughes' bottle.
"Herb," Hughes replied not taking his eyes off the bucket.
Havoc and Armstrong exchanged glances. Then Havoc chuckled. "Wow… I guess you're not as bad as I thought, sir. You had it the worst out of all of us."
"Did you get hurt?" Armstrong asked.
"Well… I made it out alive," Hughes replied. "Now," he said as the last of the clear substance fell into the bucket. "We need to stir it. What do we have to work with?" he asked as he looked around the room.
An awkward silence appeared as the three men stared at the emptiness around them. The cricket was heard chirping again.
"CRICKET!" Hughes shouted as his eyes shot around the room, looking for the bug with an evil glare.
Havoc and Armstrong exchanged glances again. "I think the fumes from the soap are getting to him…" Havoc said as they watched Hughes rush around room, screaming out threats to the cricket.
"Maybe we should find something to mix the soap," Armstrong said as his gazed was brought back from Hughes.
"I have the perfect thing," Havoc said as he pulled the spatula out from behind his back. He had hidden it under his military jacket.
"The spatula!" Hughes said as his attention was brought back to the men when he saw the silver on the spatula sparkle. Then his eyes went back to darting around the room, "Another day, Cricket, another day," he said as he walked over to the bucket and took the spatula from the Lieutenant. Then he looked down at the nasty water.
"Is it supposed to look like that?" Havoc asked as he and Armstrong stared into the bucket as well. It was even murkier looking then before. It was mixture of dark and light shades of gray. There was also a hint of pink and orange as the soap floated on the surface.
Hughes leaned over and began to sniff, "Hmm... smells like slime and lemons…" he said with a smile as he looked up at his friends.
Havoc shrugged and Hughes began mixing all the bucket contained together. As Hughes stirred, the stuff that had been previously stuck on the bottom of the bucket began to come to the top as the whirlpool pulled it around.
"Oooohooooohooo…man…" Havoc said as he covered his nose with his arm. "That's disgusting," he whined as he watched the content of the bucket swirl around and around.
"CRICKET!" Hughes shouted when he saw a dead cricket come to surface. "I hope he wasn't related to my cricket…" he said as he continued to stir.
"Are you sure you want to wash the floor with this?" Armstrong asked. Unsure of what all the bucket held.
"Yup," Hughes replied, "Won't Roy and Riza be proud when they come home and see this place all clean!"
"It won't smell clean," Havoc said. Hughes ignored his comment.
"There, it's all done," Hughes said a few minutes later. It was done indeed; the white suds were overflowing and sliding down the bucket and onto the floor.
"How are we going to do this?" Armstrong asked. Havoc picked up the mop. He was about to dip the end of the mop in when Hughes grabbed the bucket and pulled it to his chest, some of the water and suds spilling onto the floor.
"This will be must faster," he said as he took the silver tin and flung it. A splash noise was heard as all the water landed on the floor throughout the entire room.
"Eeewwwwweeewwwwwwww…. God…" Havoc said as he saw the suds all over the floor. "It's… everywhere…." a sick expression appeared on his face when he saw the cricket, covered in suds, lying where Roy's desk used to be. Other items lay on the floor as well. Some of it you could tell what they were. Some of it was paper, there was an egg that looked to be 100 years old and hard boiled, part of a potato, and a shoelace. The other things were unrecognizable. They weren't sure if they wanted to know what they were.
"Hmm…" Hughes said as he looked over the room. "We need more soap."
Armstrong nodded.
"Let's spread out!" Hughes shouted. "I know there's more then one bathroom in this place!" Then he, Havoc, and Armstrong set out on yet another mission. They raided all the bathrooms in their half of the Central building.
They met up once again a little while later, this time they had more then one bottle full of soap. Getting things ready took a little doing as well. They had to run back and forth to get water, but in the end it worked out, the floor was all covered in white suds.
"It looks like Christmas!" Hughes said excitedly as the room reminded him of the snow-covered ground.
"Believe me…" Havoc replied. "This… is far from Christmas…"
"Awww… that's not true," he said disappointedly. He had already jumped in the mess and was covered in suds. "I'm sure you can find a present in here somewhere, or a reindeer terd."
"Please, don't say that, sir," Havoc replied, a disgusted look on his face.
Armstrong took the mop and began sweeping back and forth. Some of the suds flew in the air from his forceful swaying movement.
"Hey," Havoc retorted as he watched Armstrong, "Don't do it so hard," he said as he walked over to him. He was up to his knees in white foam. The soapy mess seemed to cling to their clean clothes. "You're going to…"
Havoc was cut off by a snapping sound.
"….break it…" He finished his statement with a hopeless expression.
Armstrong stared at the two pieces on the mop; he held one in each hand.
"Hey guys!" they heard Hughes' voice chime from across the room. They looked over and saw Hughes lying on his back, spreading his limbs apart then bringing them back together. "SUD ANGELS!"
"…"
"…. How can you lay in that?" Havoc asked as he watched Hughes play in the nasty muck.
Just then Hughes noticed the end of the mop in Armstrong's hand. "Oh!" he shouted happily as he got an idea. He quickly got up and swiped the end of the mop from Armstrong. Then he went over to a clean spot and began to work.
Armstrong and Havoc watched curiously.
After a few moments he stepped back, a smile spread across his face as he admired his work. "Sud Gracia!"
"Eh?" Havoc and Armstrong walked over and saw Hughes had drawn his wife in the soap, using the end of the stick as a pencil.
"Hmmm…" Armstrong said as he brought his hand to his chin, "That's not bad."
Just then there was a pounding on the door. "OPEN THIS DOOR!" The voice boomed as the person slammed his fist down on the wood.
Havoc's head shot toward the door, a panic-stricken look on his face.
"It's a good thing I locked that. Can you imagine how much trouble we'd get in if the Brigadier General saw this?" Hughes said as he glanced around at all the white suds.
"Do something!" Havoc shouted. Armstrong still stared at Hughes' artwork, thinking.
"Swipe it up!" Hughes said as he bent over and ran forward, his arms full of bubbly suds. "Come on, Havoc." Gran still pounded on the door.
"I'm not touching that!" Havoc retorted. Hughes quickly ran to the far end on the room, pushed the garbage bag out the window with his elbow, and then threw the giant load of white soap out. Some of it floated slowly to the ground, some was blown away in the wind, and other parts clung to his arms. He began trying to swipe the clinging suds off.
"Lieutenenant Havoc!" Gran snapped. "Open this door now!"
Why me? Why always me? Havoc cried as Hughes was seen running back and forth behind him.
"Armstrong," Hughes said as he stopped for a minute to look at the big man. His arms full of another load of suds. Thanks to Hughes the corner of the room was sud free, but it was still stinky and not clean. "You could help, you know?"
"Oh what do we do?" Havoc shouted and fell to his knees, the suds around him taking flight on the air current he had just created. If it wasn't the General he could have cared less who saw. But this was the Brigadier General, and he wasn't a very nice person. He could hear Gran's voice in the background. It was becoming more enraged by the second.
"Hmmmm…" Armstrong mumbled as he stared at Hughes' creation a little longer. "Major Hughes?"
"Yes?" Hughes replied, standing at the window trying to get the suds off one of his sleeves.
"Do you still have the end of that mop? I think I have a solution to our current dilemma," Armstrong replied as he looked over at Hughes.
"Uh?" Hughes glanced back at him, "Yes, it should be right there," he said as he pointed his soap covered finger at his drawing.
Armstrong nodded and bent over. His arms digging around in the white bubbles.
"HUGHES!" Gran shouted angrily. "I'll break this door down if you don't open it in the next two seconds!"
Havoc still panicked to the side. Armstrong then pulled the stick from the floor.
"What are you planning to do?" Hughes asked as he watched Armstrong.
"This is no time to be drawing pictures!" Havoc replied, "Are you drawing what you want your tombstone to look like?"
"No," Armstrong replied. After another second or two he stepped back.
"Hm?" Hughes and Havoc both looked down at Armstrong's work.
"Is that an alchemy circle?" Hughes asked as he looked down at the round drawing.
Armstrong nodded, "Stand back," he said as he put his hands down on the floor, careful not to mess up the suddy circle. Then a bright light appeared as the outline of the circle began to glow a yellow color.
"What the?" Gran scoffed when he saw the yellow glow come out from the cracks of the door. "Hughes!" he shouted again as he used his alchemy to transform his fist into iron. I warned them. He growled as he punched the door with his iron fist.
The door exploded as Gran stepping in angrily. A sneer on his face. "What is going on in here?" he asked as he looked down at the soldiers.
"Uh?" Everyone's face now possessed a confused expression.
Much to Grand surprise the room looked good as new. The tile and walls were all clean and polished, the light was fixed, the cleaning supplies that were discarded throughout the room now sat neatly against the back wall. The one thing that wasn't replaced was in the window.
"Hey!" Hughes said happily as he put one hand up in a waving gesture. He, Havoc, and Armstrong sat in the middle of the clean floor.
"What's going on in here?" Gran asked.
"We were just discussing the best place to get a new window," Hughes replied. "And I was showing my comrades my newest pictures! Gracia is so hot! Wanna see?"
"No!" the Brigadier General replied as his eyes glanced around the room. Aside from the window there was no imperfection he could see. "And what was that light I saw a moment ago?"
"Uh…" Havoc stared, unsure of what to say. Armstrong knew better, he let Hughes have the floor.
"Oh, that was Lieutenant Havoc," Hughes replied with a smile.
Gran glared at him.
"Yeah…" Hughes continued on. "Havoc was trying to light a cigarette. He was sitting on the floor, and lit the match. Armstrong was standing behind him, and well, farted. It caused an explosion."
Armstrong and Havoc glanced at Hughes in a 'what kind of excuse is that?' manner.
"Why is there no proof of the explosion then?" Grand asked, expecting to see at least a little black around the area the fart took place.
"…it didn't touch anything…?" Hughes replied, unsure if he'd been backed into a corner with this story or not.
"I see," Gran replied as he turned around, hands folded behind his back. "Get that window and report to me when finished," he said as he left the room.
"Uh?"
"Hm?"
"Wha?" Havoc and Armstrong sat… speechless and what had just happened. Hughes smiled and rubbed the back of his head.
"Yes, sir," he said with a nervous, but happy expression on his face.
AN: Hi all! Did ya like it? I told you there were too many parts for this chapter. I now see I should have made it three chapters. Oh well, what can you do? It was 20 pages! (small font) Next is Royai, yay!