The major's eyes shone pale brown as he leaned on the door, gazing out emptily at the passing buildings. He heaved a heavy sigh, his breath misting up the glass in front of his face, and rested his unshaven chin on his tattooed hand.

"Something wrong, sir?" asked the driver, another soldier ranking merely as a corporal.

"Hmm?" The major's eyes left the window, resting on the back of the corporal's head.

"I only assumed that, sir," said the driver. "Pardon my mentioning, but you looked as though you were miles away."

"I think I was much further away than that," said the major, "but thanks for snapping me back."

He looked back out the window, at the black, moonless sky that clashed against the almost nauseating yellow light of the street lamps. When he thought about it, the outside world looked every bit as cold as it felt.

Thank goodness for military transport, eh?

"Excuse me, Major?"

"Yes? What is it now?"

"Forgive me for asking, sir," the corporal said nervously as they turned a corner, "but I can't help but be curious: what kind of alchemy is it you do?"

The major glanced down at the chain leading to his pocket and the transmutation circles tattooed on his hands. Taking them into account, as well as the tell-tale stripes on his shoulders, it wasn't surprising that the driver would guess his occupation.

"Well," he said with a smile, and proudly held up his left hand so that his palm was visible in the rear-view mirror, "do you see this rune I have here, Corporal...?"

"Messerschmitt, sir. Friedrich Messerschmitt."

"Messerschmitt. Right. Was wondering what your name was. Anyway, you see this?"

"Yes, sir. It's hard not to when you're blocking my view out the back."

"Sorry," said the major, and lowered his hand. "This is the circle for earth transmutation - so that's the ground, rocks, soil, all of that - but turned upside down, it becomes the symbol for air."

"So your alchemy is applied to earth and air, sir?"

"That's right!" the major said cheerfully as they turned another corner. "It all depends on how I press my hands together. That's why I was issued the title 'Dust Storm' because..."

He trailed off, looking out the window again.

"Are we taking some alternate route I didn't know about?" he asked. "Why are we in the backstreets?"

"I thought you might want to avoid some of the heavier traffic, sir," said Corporal Messerschmitt. "It takes longer, but it means a more peaceful drive."

The Dust Storm Alchemist nodded.

"Fair enough," he muttered.

He settled back down, leaning into the comfortable seat, and his gaze began to empty once more as it returned to the outside world.

He couldn't help but wonder if he'd made the right choice in enlisting with the military. If they found out exactly who he was and what he was capable of, he'd become the centre of a scandal. No doubt about it. There be court martials, more people than necessary asking questions, a whole other set of people asking where he'd been... it would be a mess.

He closed his fingers on his tattoos.

Hopefully his alchemical abilities and knowhow would be enough to keep him secure.

Gazing out the window, he saw an alleyway pass by.

With something in it which snagged his attention like a runaway fishhook.

"Stop the car!"

At his shout, the corporal slammed his foot on the brake and the State Alchemist was almost thrown through the windscreen.

"Sir?" Messerschmitt said, utterly confused.

"I just need to check something," said Dust Storm, and he opened his door. "Keep the engine running!"

"Sir?!"

The major ignored the confused driver and ran down the street to the alley's entrance.

He stood there for a few seconds, staring down its length and wondering if he had made a mistake.

But then he saw it.

Poking out from behind a large dumpster.

What was unmistakably a bare human leg, pouring blood out of a disturbingly large and ugly wound.

"Hello?" he called. "Is someone there?"

The leg twitched, as though its owner was shivering violently. Good. They weren't dead.

Thunder rumbled overhead as the Dust Storm Alchemist slowly approached, not wanting to frighten whoever it was that was hiding there.

"That's a nasty wound you've got there," he said. "I have a car nearby; I can get you to a hospital. It looks like you've lost a lot of blood, so..."

As he drew level with the dumpster, he noticed something else. Scraps of cloth littered the ground. In this dim light he couldn't make out the colours, but it looked as though the fabric was old and faded anyway. Another pile of cloth lay against the wall, as if thrown there.

The major picked it up to examine. It was a long coat, made for somebody much shorter than he was by the looks of things.

Behind him he heard heavy breathing, as of somebody who was struggling for air, and he finally turned to see who was there.

"Oh my god..." he muttered in shock.

It was a boy, definitely not above fifteen years old, and he was completely naked. His slim yet athletically muscular body was covered in scrapes and bruises, many shaped like hands or boot prints. His face was buried in his crossed arms - right one flesh, left one automail - and he was tightly clutching his uninjured leg against his chest. In this lighting it was impossible to tell what colour his hair was, but it was messy, long and dangling loosely around his shoulder.

He was, indeed, shivering like crazy, but the major guessed that the cold wasn't entirely to blame.

The major knelt down on one knee in front of the quivering teen.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked. "Hey?"

The boy looked up, keeping his head to one side. He seemed determined not to look at the major's face. Even so, even in this lighting, it was easy to tell that his eyes were a deep shade of green.

The major pulled out his watch.

"Look," he said. "You can trust me, see? I'm with the military, I'm a State Alchemist. They call me the Dust Storm Alchemist."

Green eyes fell upon the watch, but were quickly hidden again by the boy's arms.

The Dust Storm Alchemist looked down at the boy's left leg. Now that he was closer, he noticed that this wound had almost definitely been caused by a bullet. A high velocity round. Most likely a sniper. But who in their right mind would want to shoot some kid in the leg?

And then there were his other injuries, and the fact that he was naked...

Oh.

Oh.

The major looked at the coat in his hand. Now that he thought about it, it did seem the right size for somebody like this boy.

"Is this yours?" he asked, holding it out so the kid could see.

The boy only barely glanced at the garment, then nodded so quickly it was hard to tell apart from his shivering.

"Here-"

The major moved closer with the intention of putting the coat around the boy's shoulders, but he shied away with a quiet whimper of fear.

"It's alright," said Dust Storm. "I don't want to hurt you, I promise. I'm just going to put this on you, okay? Come on. You must be cold."

Carefully, slowly, taking care not to make any sudden movements, he reached around the boy's shoulders and pulled the coat around him. The boy slipped his arms into the sleeves and hugged his chest, still shivering.

"Can you stand?" asked the major. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to touch you if I'm going to help you. Is that okay?"

With his arm around the boy's shoulders, he stood up. The boy kept his eyes tightly closed and pulled the coat even further around his body. He whimpered again as even more blood poured out of the wound in his leg.

The major didn't hesitate. He hooked another arm under the teen's knees and lifted him clear of the ground. The boy was clearly terrified, but he didn't object.

"What's your name?" Dust Storm asked. "Can you tell me your name?"

The boy didn't respond.

Face set in grim determination, the major carried him out of the alley. When he saw them approaching, Corporal Messerschmitt climbed out of the car and stared in shock.

"Major, what's going on?" he demanded. "Who is this?"

"There's no time," said the major. "Get us to the nearest hospital."

"But sir-"

"Now, corporal!" the major commanded. "Or do you want this kid to die?!"

Messerschmitt's eyes flicked from the steely gaze of the major to the boy, who was making every effort to hide himself.

He nodded.

"Very well," he said, and opened the door so that his passenger could enter.
The major climbed in and held the boy on his lap while the corporal once again revved up the car.

"Don't be afraid," said Dust Storm. "You're safe now. No-one else is going to hurt you, I swear."

The boy opened his eyes slightly, staring straight ahead from under his eyelashes. He still hadn't looked at the major's face.

"What's your name?" Dust Storm asked again.

He didn't get a response.

"Do you know who did this to you?"

Still nothing. The boy closed his eyes and shivered again, but this time a tear trickled slowly down his cheek.

"Hey," the major said gently. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay."

He looked up again.

"Corporal, get a move on!" he ordered. "This kid's lost a lot of blood and he's still losing more!"

"I'm moving, I'm moving, I'm on it!" the corporal replied.

"It's okay," the major repeated to the now-sobbing boy. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

The boy covered his face with his hands, and nobody made any attempts to prevent him from crying.

"Excuse me, sir?"

The major stood up and saluted.

"Major Wilhelm Blitz, ma'am," he said. "Also known as the Dust Storm Alchemist. How's the boy?"

The nurse looked down at her clipboard.

"I'm afraid your suspicions were correct," she informed him. "He's showing all of the most common physical and psychological signs of sexual assault. From the wounds he sustained, we've been able to conclude that there were at least five different assailants. It's fortunate you brought him in when you did; a couple more hours and he would have developed gangrene in his leg if he hadn't died of exposure."

Major Blitz bowed his head solemnly. One would have been horrific enough, but five...

"Are you related to him in some way?" the nurse asked.

He shook his head.

When he looked up, the nurse had narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"I'm not," he said, "I swear. Is he going to be alright?"

"We have him sedated for the time being," the nurse told him.

"What? Why?"

"When he came round after the surgery, he attacked all of the doctors and nurses who were in the room. Three people are being treated for broken bones and two others for severe contusions. He isn't restrained, but I'd recommend staying away from him until we can find out his identity-"

"Did he at least tell you what his name was?"

She checked her clipboard again.

"He has mentioned a name," she said, "but judging by the frequency and repetition with which he says it, it isn't his."

"What name is this?"

She lifted a couple of pages aside.

"'Ed'."

Major Blitz looked through the window in the nearby door and saw the boy lying motionless on a hospital bed. Hopefully those sedatives were giving him a dreamless sleep. Otherwise, who knew what kind of nightmares could be plaguing him right now.

"I recognise this boy," he said. "I've seen him at Central Command. This 'Ed'... I'd advise you to contact Edward Elric, the former Fullmetal Alchemist. I believe those two were there together on the day I received my official title. He lives in Resembool. Shouldn't be too hard to track him down."

The nurse nodded and quickly scribbled this on her papers.

"Is it alright if I go in?" he asked.

"I don't see any reason why not, so long as you don't get too close," the nurse said.

The major nodded gratefully and slipped into the room.

The lighting here was far better, and he got a much clearer look at the boy he had rescued. He had a small bandage on his cheek, presumably covering a particularly bad scrape, and other more thorough dressings on his hand, arm and around his head. Major Blitz suspected that there were more under his hospital shirt, and definitely on his left leg. Looking closer, his automail was scratched and dented in places, and there were bruises on his neck as though somebody had been strangling him.

In this lighting, his hair was red. Not ginger or auburn or any other natural kind of red, but literally vivid red and almost artificial-looking in its brilliance. The major would have blamed it on dye if his eyebrows weren't the same colour.

He could hardly believe what he was looking at.

Who he was looking at.

He sat down on a chair next to the bed, staring at the boy's sleeping form.

Surely it couldn't be true.

It couldn't be him.

Surely...