Whumptober 2020 Day 2: In the hands of the enemy ("Pick who dies"/collars/kidnapped)
Word Count: 941
Author: Katie/Ally (aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl)
Rating: T
Characters: Jean Havoc, Riza Hawkeye, Heymans Breda
Summary: Havoc, Breda and Hawkeye are captured, and Havoc is told to make an impossible choice.
Notes: I have something in mind for what happens at the end, but what do you think happened?

The Hands of the Enemy

Havoc was roughly shoved down onto his knees by his captors, the men being far from gentle with him. Arms tied up behind him, a shackle around his neck that felt like a collar-he bristled at it the moment the kidnappers had put it on him.

He worried how Hawkeye was taking it. She was touchy about her neck ever since the Promised Day.

"Easy on the merchandise!" he snapped at his captors. "I've gone through a lot of trouble to look this good!"

It was more of a reflex than anything to say something so trite, and he really should have known better. He only realized that he had been pistol whipped after it happened, and the stars stopped flying through his vison. He shook his head and caught sight of a similarly bound Breda and Hawkeye, each of them being led in from different directions. Both of them looked incensed, and he guessed that they had caught the last little bit of the act there. He tried to give them a grin, but it honestly didn't seem to get very far.

He looked them over as they, too, were forced to their knees. Both of them, as he expected, looked roughed up. Hawkeye had a bruise blooming on the side of her face, and Breda had a fat lip, but it was hard to tell what other injuries they might have under their uniforms.

Havoc rather hoped Hawkeye still had a gun under there somewhere. Or a knife. Anything, really.

The two of them were pretty much across from him, and all three were turned to face each other. Hawkeye was immediately checking over them, and asking with her eyes if they were alright, even though Havoc could see her own anxieties lurking in the back of her eyes. Breda, it was clear to see, was already forming a plan, looking over both of his teammates to see what kind of shape they were in. And him? He was just ready to act as soon as the opportunity or direction presented itself.

Before they could glean too much information from each other, though, a man walked between them, disrupting their line of sight. He looked at all of them, and then walked beside Havoc. Havoc tensed.

"Pick," the mad said, in heavily accented Amestrian.

"What?" Havoc asked, confused.

"Pick," the man repeated. "Pick who dies."

"What?!" Havoc repeated.

The man looked at him. "Pick who dies. We will kill one of you either way, as a message. You pick who dies."

Havoc recoiled at that. "I—I cant do that!" he protested.

"We could kill them both then," the man said with a shrug.

Havoc's heart went into a panic at that. He could allow either of them to get killed! Breda was a brilliant strangest, and Hawkeye—Mustang would get nowhere without Riza. Loosing her would end him. But him? He was just a gun man and a soldier. He was expendable.

"No," Havoc said. "Me. Then I pick me!" He could see both Breda and Hawkeye move to protest at that, but the guards held them in place and silenced them with a tug on the chains attached to the shackle around their necks. Havoc could see the tightening of Hawkeye's jaw at it.

"Mm, no. You are not an option," the man said, bringing their attention back him. "It is one of them." He gestured again with his gun. "So, as I said. Pick. Pick who dies. Pick who dies, or they both die."

Havoc looked at them with wide eyes. He couldn't do this! How could he do this! Breda was his best friend, his best buddy. They were as close as brothers! He filled a special place in Havoc's life, and if Breda died, then it would devastate him. But he couldn't kill Riza either. Riza was as close as sister to him, definitely a comrade in arms. She'd want him to pick her and she'd never forgive him if he let Breda die in her place. But there was also no way that Mustang was going to survive without her.

He looked over at his two friends. Each was encouraging him to pick themselves. He could see it in their eyes. Hawkeye was practically ordering him to choose her. "I'm not good enough to live," her eyes seemed to say. "I knew that I'd die someday. I have too much blood on my hands. Let Breda live, and you both be strong to support the Colonel."

Breda's eyes were just as expressive. "Choose me. Hawk's too important. Mustang can't carry on without her. There's no way to replace her. But a strategist can be replaced. Whatever Mustang and Hawkeye have can't."

"Pick," the man said again.

Havoc cussed him out instead, but the man remained unphased.

"You have… thirty seconds… or I kill them both."

Havoc looked back at both of them, stricken.

"It's okay," Hawkeye said. "Jean—it'll be okay."

"Screw that," Breda said. "If you let me live, I'll never forgive you!"

"Twenty seconds."

"Just make sure Hayate is taken care of," Riza said. "And tell Mustang that he must carry on."

"No. Riza, you're not replaceable like that. Hav—you had better pick me!"

"Ten seconds"

"Don't blame yourself for this."

"You know what you have to do."

Havoc looked away from them both. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry." He looked up again. Looked towards the one he was going to pick, saw the man bedside him raise his gun, and then—

-there was a bang, a cry, and the sound of a body hitting the floor.