"That was all about a week ago. Since then the Crimson Alchemist has struck multiple times. The method of killing is never the same. The victims are Amestrian, Ishvalan, or sometimes a mix of both. No one can predict his movements. He is an alchemist and so are you. You, therefore, have the best chance of finding and apprehending him."

Major Mustang stood at attention, listening as General Raven explained the situation.

I am not surprised that Kimblee fell off the wagon. He always seemed like he had a few screws loose, Mustang thought.

"Capturing the Crimson Alchemist is of top priority. The war is ending and we can't afford to have one of our own messing that up. You will have the full cooperation of the Amestrian military on this. A squad of three has been assigned to you. They are waiting for you at the briefing table. To help speed this along, you have been temporarily given the rank of Lieutenant Colonel," The general continued.

Mustang bit his lip to keep from gasping. A promotion, even a temporary one, was an unexpected gift.

General Raven paused and grinned at the tense young man. It was almost as if he knew what Mustang was thinking.

"Perform well in this matter and the rank change will be permanent."

Mustang's face remained blank, but inside he was grinning. The rank of Lieutenant Colonel. One step closer to the top.

General Raven studied Mustang for a moment, "I don't need to tell you what happens if you fail."

Mustang shuddered inwardly.

If he failed then Kimblee would decorated the streets of Ishval with his blood.

"No, sir," Mustang answered.

General Raven nodded, "Good. You are dismissed, Lieutenant Colonel. Go brief your squad."

Mustang saluted and took the map General Raven handed to him then left the tent.

The camp of the Amestrian military was not as crowded as it had been. With the war ending, some soldiers had gone home. Some on their own two and too many of them in simple wooden coffin, but Mustang still had to weave his way through a crowd soldiers and tents.

He did so automatically, barely registering the faces in front of him.

He knew Kimblee would not go down easy. Mustang wasn't sure he could beat the rogue alchemist, but he had try. Whatever it took to get the rank of Lieutenant Colonel permanently.

The briefing table was a small wooden table were squad leaders would sit with their men on wooden stumps that served as seats and give them their orders. It wasn't all that far from the command tent. He could already hear voices coming from the direction it was in.

"I am telling you, I never thought she could look more angelic, but just look at this picture she sent me of her with her new hairstyle! She looks even cuter now then she did before!"

Mustang closed his eyes for a moment and groaned.

"I recognized that voice. Don't tell me.." He muttered as he turned the corner.

Sure enough, there he was, sitting at the briefing table with his glasses slightly askew and his green eyes filled with excitement as he held out a photograph for the soldier sitting across from him to see. Major Maes Hughes, love bird and non stop babbler.

The victim of his latest babbling session sat with her rifle propped against her shoulder. Her short blond hair shone like the gold in the afternoon sunlight. Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was being far more patient with Hughes then Mustang ever would be. Then again, she was a sharp-shooter. They were known for their patience.

The third member of the group focused more attention on Hawkeye then on the photograph and Hughes. Like Hawkeye, he had short blond hair and held his rifle like he was an expert shot, but there the similarities between the town ended. The acrid stench from the cigarette in the man's mouth made Mustang wrinkle his nose.

"The lieutenant here would know all about being an angel given that she is one already," he said, with a sly wink.

Hawkeye rolled her eyes, "Havoc, how many times do I have to tell you to lay off. I am not interested in being your girlfriend. Now or in the future."

"Depends on how many times it takes for you to agree," Havoc said with a shrug.

"Am I interrupting something?" Mustang asked.

Hughes looked up and grinned, "Roy, I didn't realize you were the alchemist assigned to this case."

Hawkeye rose to her feet and saluted, "Good to see you again, Sir."

Mustang nodded to her.

"Likewise," he said.

He cast a dubious glance at Havoc, who had neither gotten up nor saluted him.

"And you are?"

"Lieutenant Jean Havoc. And you are?" Havoc asked.

"Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist," Mustang said.

Mustang waited. Havoc did not shoot to his feet and salute. He just sat there smoking away.

"At ease," Mustang said, though the words felt unnecessary given that only Hawkeye was at attention.

"Now that introduction are over with, we can get down to business. You have all been briefed on the target?"

Havoc, Hawkeye, and Hughes nodded.

Mustang set down a map on the table and spread it out so that all of them could see it. He pointed to several spots marked in dark red ink, "Here all the spots Kimblee has attacked so far. Our first task will be to find similarities between them to figure out what he is planning..."

"No offense. But this guy is running around and murdering people for no apparent reason. How do we know he even has a plan?" Havoc asked.

"Because this is Kimblee we are talking about. He is a psychotic murder, but he is also smart. As random as these attacks might seem, they are anything, but random. Kimble is up to something," Hawkeye began.

"And we need to figure out what," Mustang finished.

Havoc took a long drag from his cigarette and looked back and forth from Mustang to Hawkeye.

"I am never going to get a girlfriend at this rate," Havoc complained.

Hawkeye stiffened slightly, but gave no other indication that she knew what he was implying.

Mustang discreetly pulled on one of his white gloves in his coat pocket then gave a barely audible snap.

Havoc's cigarette exploded with fire and quickly burned down to a stub.

Havoc dropped it with a startled yelp.

Hughes was studying the map. "The closest attack occurred a few blocks from here."

"We are heading there first. The soldiers on guard there are expecting us," Mustang confirmed.

Hughes all but leaped off the stump he was using as seat.

"Great! I can show you Gracia's most recent picture and we can talk about it on the way," Hughes said.

By "we" Hughes meant "I will monologue about it the entire way and you will have to listen."

Mustang looked pleadingly at Havoc, who smirked and lit another cigarette.

He cast a glance at Hawkeye, but she shrugged as if to say "You can handle this one on your own, Sir."

Mustang gritted his teeth and toyed with the idea of ordering Hughes to shut up. He was Hughes' superior officer at the moment after all. Hughes, however, knew that Mustang would never enforce an order like that. Hughes was too good a friend to punish for something so petty.

Mustang would just have to bear Hughes'incessant rambling.