"I've learned the lesson that when you're in the
middle of something that seems overwhelming, or you're
in a bad situation and it seems like the end of the world
or whatever, and then you learn that it's not."

- Lee Ann Womack

Roy Mustang was having trouble restraining himself as Hughes continued to rant about his daughter, shoving an endless amount of pictures in his face.

"-She's so smart! She's already learning how to tie her shoes, and she does it in the cutest way! She always chants the little instructions we gave her, and she's just so concentrated on it! It's the most adorable thing!"

"Hughes, if you stuff that picture in my face one more time, you'll be getting back its ashes." Mustang growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the sight of all the different photographs in his friend's hands. Hughes blinked, and then frowned at his friend, looking as if Mustang had just uttered the worst of blasphemies.

"You wouldn't dare. Besides, Elicia is too cute for someone to burn her picture!" The Lieutenant Colonel insisted as he hugged one of the multiple photographs to his chest. Mustang arched a challenging eyebrow.

"Don't bet on it, Maes."

There was the sound of pounding footsteps in the hallway, and the two men looked up to see a private-ranked officer rush into the room. "L-Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, sir!"

"Private Stock." The young officer saluted and Hughes returned it, "What seems to be the problem?"

"Sir, there's a… well, a very strange thing that needs your attention, as a member of the investigations office…"

Amelia looked up at her ceiling from the little wooden bench that was meant to be her bed. She had counted the ceiling tiles at least ten times now, only to find that none had changed in the last 30 seconds. She moved her head around to where her guard was on the other side of the barred door. He was a relatively young man, somewhere in his mid or late twenties, with blonde hair and a lax attitude. He was leaning back in the chair and smoking a cigarette that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"I didn't think smoking was allowed in public buildings." She said, making sure she spoke loud enough for him to hear.

He chuckled, "Who would make up a rule like that? Of course it's allowed."

"You know that stuff will kill you, right?" Amelia sat up so she could speak to him better.

"Maybe. It'll take years and years for that, though. I got time." He shot her a grin and she rolled her eyes.

"Well if that's how it is, can I have one?" She didn't smoke, but she figured she might as well take it up since she was going to be in jail and wouldn't have anything better to do.

"Nope. Sorry. The only prisoners who are allowed these babies are those on death row. We can move you up if you—"

"Hell no. Forget it."

He chuckled again, taking a long drag from the cigarette, "But, for the record, I don't think you'll get put on death row. Trespassing is a crime, but it doesn't warrant death."

"Well, thank God for that." Amelia sighed, slumping back against the wall, her feet dangling over the side of her wooden bench/bed. Despite the sarcasm in her voice, knowing that she wasn't going to be killed for trespassing was comforting. "How do you guys do execution around here anyway?"

"Hanging."

Amelia looked at him with wide eyes, "You're joking."

"Nope. Been that way for the last… oh, hundred years, I think."

"With that kind of archaic style, you may as well use the guillotine."

"Gee-what?"

"Guillotine. You know, the big device where you put someone's head in a hole and drop a blade down on them to chop off their head?"

Havoc reached up, his hand moving over his neck, looking pretty disturbed, "Can't say I've ever heard of it. Sounds disgusting."

"It is."

"Are you saying that's what you want?"

"I'm saying it's the same as hanging someone. Don't you guys have lethal injections?"

"What are those?"

"Never mind."

"What do you mean she just 'appeared'?" Hughes asked the shaken officer.

"A-As I said, sir. There was a bright flash of light, and then the girl was in the barracks." The young man stuttered, obviously wary of ticking off his superior. "An unusual transmutation circle was left behind when we apprehended her."

"And is it still there?" Mustang asked.

"Yes, sir. We've taped off the area to avoid anyone destroying it."

"And what about the girl?"

"She's in holding, sir. We have Lieutenant Havoc placed as guard."

"That explains why he's not at his desk…" Mustang muttered, looking over at the work spaces for the rest of his men, Havoc's space being completely empty, despite the paperwork resting on it. He moved his gaze back to the private, who jumped. He couldn't help but grin a little on the inside, it was really fun scaring the new guys with his rank.

Hughes sighed, "Well, then, get the interrogation room ready. I'll question her."

"Sir!" The soldier saluted again before leaving.

Maes turned to his friend, "Think you could look over that transmutation circle? You know more about this stuff than I do."

"I'm up to my ears in paperwork, and you want me to help out the investigations department?" Roy asked.

"I figured it would be a good reason for Hawkeye not to shoot you when you came back late." Hughes grinned.

Roy returned it, "You know me too well."

"No, I'm serious!"

"It doesn't exist!"

"Yes it does! It's in the jungle. I've heard so many stories about it."

"Well how does it even get up there in the first place?"

"It swims up your pee."

"Gross! Who pees in jungle water?"

"I don't know, but they don't do it anymore."

"You're making this up."

"I swear, I'm not."

For the last half hour, Amelia had been discussing many different things with her prison guard. He still hadn't given her his name, but she figured it didn't really matter at this point. She was just making conversation since she was bored. It was the first time she had ever gotten the chance to talk about morbid subjects with a person before that was actually interested. She would have tried Kate, but she wasn't in the same cell as her, if she was even in the same building. She hadn't asked about Kate. She figured she was fine and if someone asked whose fault it was, she'd say it was hers. She did the thing that got her here anyway.

"Do people seriously amputate it?" Her guard asked, looking both terrified and disgusted, but interested at the same time.

"Well, you kinda have to." She replied. "It's either that, or rip it out and ruin the thing forever."

He shuddered, "So, it just… hooks itself in?"

Amelia nodded, "Yeah."

"Why?"

"There's some chemical in pee that it likes, and since you're kinda the source for it, it stays there."

"That's sick."

"No kidding."

They heard the sound of a door shut and the pair looked up to see someone approaching. Amelia's guard have him a lazy salute from his seat, "Hey Hughes."

"What are you doing in here? You're supposed to be at your desk."

"Lost a bet with the guy on guard duty."

Hughes chuckled, "That right?" He turned to look at Amelia, who was leaning up against the bars of her prison cell, "You're the girl right? The trespasser?"

"I didn't trespass anything." Amelia snapped.

"I'll need you to come with me. I have a few questions I want to ask you." Amelia stood up straight, realizing that this guy was going to be the one in charge of her police case or military case or whatever the hell she was to these people. The thought quickly sobered her up.

"Oh. Okay." She stood back as he unlocked her cell door. Hughes noticed her sudden change in attitude, and he gave her a smile to try and help her relax.

"Don't worry. It's just some simple questions, basic procedure. If you did nothing wrong, you should be fine."

"Yeah." She didn't calm down as they walked out of the holding cell. She was already picturing the interrogation room. She thought it might be like the movies, the metal table and chairs, the single, swinging light overhead, great big one-way mirror on one wall that she would have to face. It wasn't something she was looking forward to.

Turns out the interrogation room was just across from the holding cells. She was led inside and saw that the room was pretty much what she imagined it would be, only without a one-way mirror, and the furniture was wooden, rather than metal. She took a seat across from Hughes as he readied a notepad.

"Alright, let's start with your full name." He said calmly, trying not to scare the girl in front of him anymore than she already was.

"Amelia Anouk Seymour." She watched as he started to scribble onto the page.

"How do you spell that middle name?"

"A-N-O-U-K."

"Don't think I've ever met anyone with that name."

"It's old."

"How old are you, Miss Seymour?"

"I turned 16 last month."

He nodded, getting down all this information as she said it. This girl was barely old enough to take the alchemy exam.

"And what is your date of birth?"

"July 21st, 1998."

Here, Hughes paused, and he looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "…1998?"

Amelia nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Miss Seymour, it's not possible for that to be your birth year. It's 1915."

Amelia's brow furrowed at this information. That couldn't be right. "…It's 2016."

"No, Miss Seymour, it's not." Hughes insisted. He looked down at the paper, "Seems your sense of time is off… Considering your age, you were born in 1897."

Amelia slumped back in her seat. She was positive of exactly what year it was, even more so the year she was born. Why was he saying it was wrong? Part of her wanted to believe that this was all a part of some elaborate prank by Katie, but she didn't think she had the time or money to be able to rent out a holding cell and interrogation room. She did, but not Katie.

"And how long have you lived in Central?"

"What?" Her brain was still processing the 1915 thing.

"How long have you lived in Central City?"

"I… don't. I live in Sacramento."

Hughes looked up at her oddly, "Sacramento?"

"Yeah, in California."

Hughes still kept that odd look.

"You know… the state. Of the United States?"

Hughes was silent.

"The United States! Of America! It's the country underneath Canada and above Mexico!"

No response.

"It takes up a half of a continent!"

Still nothing, though he did write something down on the notepad.

Amelia wasn't sure whether she should scream in frustration, or start having a panic attack. Before any decisions were made, Hughes asked her another question.

"Do you have any family that you can contact, to tell them where you are?"

"Well…" She thought over her situation for a moment. "My parents aren't home a lot. Last time I checked they still were, but they might have left already."

"I see… How about brothers or sisters?"

"Only child." She paused, and then remembered Kate mentioning something about her family, "I think Kate's got an older brother, though."

"Kate?"

"Yeah, the girl I was with."

Again, Hughes gave her that odd look, though this time it was laced with concern, "Miss Seymour, you weren't with anyone when we caught you. You were alone."

Amelia was silent for a moment, "…No, she should have been there. She was the one that did the… thing."

"The thing?"

"The stupid… glowy… You know what, if you want to blame anyone for all this shit, blame her! It's her fault!"

"Hardly a way to talk about your friend."

"She's not my friend. She just doesn't know when to take a hint."

"Right…" Hughes wrote down a few more things, "We'll keep an eye out for her then. What does she look like?"

"Brown hair, little on the short side, and freckles." He wrote down her description and nodded.

"Now, why don't you tell me about how you came to be in the barracks?"

"Ask Kate. I don't understand how any of this happened. One second we're in my garage, the next some asshole is putting me under arrest."

"Mm-hmm." He wrote down her response. "So, basically if we find Kate, we'll get the answers we need?"

"Yeah."

He nodded again, underlining the note about putting out a BOLO on a girl named Kate. "We'll need more details about her. Do you think you could describe her to a sketch artist?"

"Yeah, sure."

He nodded, "Well, that's all we need for now, I suppose, since you can't really offer a lot of information until we find this Kate." He tucked the note pad under his arm and stood up, "Let's get you back to your cell."

Hughes shook his head as he looked over his notes, writing them into the main report. He looked up, seeing Mustang making his way in.

"I saw the circle." He held up a piece of paper that was most likely his notes on the whole thing.

"Oh, good. More paperwork for me." Hughes said sarcastically, waving for him to come over, "So what did you find?"

"It was your basic transmutation circle, from what I saw." Roy said, handing over his notes, "Capable of doing some simple transmutations, but nothing specific as far as I could tell. Certainly nothing involving humans."

"So she's off the hook on that one." Hughes put the paper down next to the sketch that had been made based off of Amelia's description. Roy noticed it, picking up the portrait, "That's a friend of hers. She says she's the one responsible for the transmutation circle. I'm going to give the guys in PR her sketch so they can put out posters."

"She's cute." Roy said.

"She's fifteen."

"I said she's cute, I didn't say she was my type."

Hughes snorted, "Yeah, because you have such picky tastes when it comes to women."

"Shut up." Roy chuckled.

The office door opened, and the two men looked to see who it was, and they both suddenly stood to attention, saluting the newcomer.

"Fuhrer King Bradley, sir! What are you doing here?" Hughes asked.

Bradley waved his hand, showing that they could be at ease in front of him, "I heard there was a rather strange occurrence today. Some sort of trespasser that used alchemy?"

"Yes, sir." Mustang spoke up, "However, I think it might have just been a fluke. The transmutation circle I saw was set up for basic alchemical transmutations."

"And yet they was able to transport themselves through it." The older man let out a hum, and then he smiled, "It sounds like quite the alchemical talent if you ask me."

"I… suppose so, but I stand by my theory that it was simply a fluke. A transmutation such as the one I saw wouldn't be capable of something like teleportation."

"And yet, that's what happened." He smiled at the colonel, "Do you know where this young lady is being held?"

Amelia looked up at her guard, looking over her hand of cards. The blonde guy had been exchanged for someone else. He was much more on the portly side, with red hair and a pretty laid-back look. Apparently, they were pretty chummy if their conversation during the exchange was anything to go by.

"Havoc. I see you're still stuck on prison duty." He smiled smugly down at him.
"Shut up, Breda. Everyone knows you cheat." Havoc glared at him, with a smile of his own on his face, his cigarette hanging out of the corner.

"Ha! You wish." He pulled him out of the chair, their hands gripping each other like any good friends would, and Amelia expected them to do the handshake-hug thing she had seen others do, but it was just a handshake. "Anyway, it's my turn."

"Thank God." He turned to Amelia, "See ya, kiddo. We'll talk more another time."

"Shame for you, I was about to tell you the story of the peeper that was stupid enough to get crushed by a bathtub."

"Where the hell do you get these stories?" Havoc asked. They had been exchanging different disturbing tales all day, Havoc telling her some urban legends, about Warehouse 13 and a few other things about living puppets and their masters, and she gave some she had heard from the TV show 1,000 Ways to Die – It was a guilty pleasure of hers among all the other things she got from private tutors and documentaries.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He shook his head, turning to his friend, "This kid knows how to entertain you, at least." He said before walking out.

"Wuss!" Amelia called after him. She slumped against the stiff cot that was her bed when the door slammed. She looked over at the new guy, who took Havoc's seat, the wooden chair creaking a little under his weight. "He told me a lot of weird stories."

"There are lots of rumors that run around this place." Breda replied with a shrug. "I'm surprised you didn't know about them before you came here."

"Never been here before." Amelia replied, shrugging again, "So what bet did you lose to get on guard duty?"

He laughed, "Actually, I won that bet. I'm better off during the late hours. You guys are normally asleep and it gives me time to perfect my game." He pulled out a deck of cards from his sleeve.

"What games do you play?" Amelia asked, doing so more to fill the air than anything. She didn't really play a lot of card games.

"Oh, all kinds. Lots of poker, a little solitaire when I'm particularly bored, but I also play a lot of GOPS."

"What?" Amelia's head jerked up at the name, "What kind of name is gops?"

"You've never heard of it?" Breda looked genuinely surprised, "It's one of the greatest card games in existence!"

"With a name like that, I really doubt it."

"What?" Breda shook his head, moving his chair closer to the cell door, "Get over here. You're playing this game."

"Uh, I don't think so. I've never played." Amelia remained where she was.

"I'll teach you."

"I won't be a challenge. You'll win."

"Not if you're any good at strategy." Breda grinned at her, "Come on. It's not like you've got anything better to do."

He had her on that one.

And that was how she ended up learning the odd strategy game that was GOPS (or game of pure strategy as she came to find out). Basically, the higher points your cards had, the better you did in the game. She sat cross-legged in front of the new prison guard, both of them having a hand full of cards. She was still going over which cards to play, wondering whether or not now was the time to play her king. Breda already knew what he was going to do, and now he was just waiting on her.

"You gonna pick something or what?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking."

"It's only the third round, you can't have any decent cards." Okay, she was going to play her king, if only to shut up his smug little face.

"Alright, alright." She discarded what she didn't need and looked up at him, "I'm ready." They both showed their hands, and Amelia was ecstatic to see that Breda didn't have any kings. "Yes! This hand is mine!" She reached out for the card that she should have won, but Breda snatched it from her.

"Uh-uh. Count up your points." He held up his hand, "Altogether, I've got 20."

Amelia looked over her hand again, seeing that, while she had a king, she only had 19 points. "God damn it."

He laughed, "Okay, next hand." He started to shuffle the deck, when the door leading outside opened up. Breda glanced at whoever it was, and then he dropped the deck, quickly scrambling to attention and saluting him.

"Fuhrer King Bradley, sir!" He greeted.

"At ease, lieutenant." Amelia pushed herself up to her feet, standing as she saw the older man approaching. His face was well-wrinkled, and he had a pleasant smile on his face, though she was a bit put-off by the eye patch he wore. She kept her hands on the bars of her cell door as he came in front of her cell, looking her over, "Is this the one they found this morning?"

"Yes, sir." Amelia couldn't help raising one eyebrow at the man's focus on her. What did Breda say a second ago? What was his title? Was it king? Was this the country's ruler?!

He kept that pleasant smile on his face, "It's a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I'm Fuhrer King Bradley." He held out his hand to her and she put hers through the bars to shake it.

"Um, Amelia Seymour. Nice to meet you…" She paused for a second, "Your majesty…?" Breda stifled a snort in laughter and Amelia glared at him, feeling her face heat with shame when she heard Bradley starting to laugh boisterously. "What?! You said you were a king!" She snapped, trying to justify her mistake.

"Oh, no, no." Bradley chuckled, "King is my first name. My title is Fuhrer." He gently corrected her.

"Oh." She could still feel her cheeks burning from the shame of it all. She paused for another second. "Wait, your first name is King?" He nodded in confirmation, "Dude, no offense, but who names their kid King?" She realized a second later how rude that question was.

"Parents who hope their son would one day rule the country." Bradley said, still smiling, despite what she had said, "I heard that you were a foreigner to Amestris, but I didn't think you would know so little about this country." Amelia didn't say anything, although she really wanted to. She felt like he was making a joke about her ignorance, and that always frustrated her. People saying that she had lived a sheltered life, that she doesn't understand the problems of the world and never could. She always wanted to smack them around for it. She could damn well understand it, and if she had money she could use whenever she wanted (That was actually HER money) she would gladly help. Though she didn't want to use her parents' money to do good and let them have all the glory, it may be selfish of her, but she would rather be selfish and despise her parents rather than letting her mother feel like she's a star again and get that big ass ego going. She may not let people use her upper class status to their advantage back home, but she sure as hell wasn't about to say 'shut up' to the ruler of a country. She knew better than that. "I bet that cell isn't very comfortable, is it?"

"You kidding? This place is a regular luxury suite." Didn't mean she couldn't be sarcastic, though. To her surprise, the man actually laughed boisterously again, the sound filling up the otherwise empty prison hall. She awkwardly chuckled along, glancing over at Breda, who only shrugged in response to her wordless question. She pursed her lips, looking back up at him. "So… did you just come down here to laugh at me?"

He stopped laughing, turning to her with that same pleasant smile, "Actually, I was hoping to speak to you. I understand you haven't tried to attack anyone."

"Why would I do that?" She knocked her hand against the bars of the prison cell, "I'm in here, don't want to make it any worse by having you guys send me into the rabbit hole or something."

"I don't think I've ever heard of it said that way, but that's a wise decision. You're a smart girl."

"Um… thanks?" She didn't really know where he was going with this.

"In any case, I think we should move somewhere more comfortable to talk." He turned to Breda, "Would you mind opening the door and escorting her to my office?"

"Of course, sir." Breda moved and pulled out the keys to open the cell door. His serious expression didn't really give her comfort as he pulled her out of the cell. For clear safety precautions (That strangely were not implemented when she was taken to interrogation) she was put in a pair of wooden handcuffs. She followed alongside Breda, walking behind the Fuhrer as they went to his office. Her heart was racing the entire time. She was pretty sure the ruler of a country wouldn't bother looking for a trespasser if it wasn't for some big reason. She just hoped it wasn't something that would end badly for her.