Title: Halloween Special – The Staff is Far Mightier than The Sword
Prompt/Inspiration: The FMA cast fancy-dressing, as FF characters. I was bored.
Summary: Our military gang plus favourite two alchemists participate in the annual State Military Halloween Fest, according to a certain theme.
Rating: K+
Warnings: One swear word. Predictions of violence, of which will be left to the imagination.
Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is the property of Arakawa Hiromu, and Final Fantasy belongs to Square Enix.
The Staff is Far Mightier than The Sword
Colonel Roy Mustang sat at his desk with a look of intense boredom on his face. He idly twirled a pen and halfheartedly signed the document in front of him.
"Sir, the State Military Halloween Fest is coming in two day's time," Lieutenant Hawkeye reminded.
Mustang raised his head. "I am well aware of that."
"The men have requested me to tell you that they wish to dress up to a particular theme. Your costume has already been chosen."
"What?" Cue the raised eyebrow and quickened heartbeat. Statements like that always gave him ominous feelings.
"What is this?"
Lieutenant Havoc was already on his way to the men's locker room when he twisted his head back to reply. "It's your costume, Colonel."
"What?" Mustang's eloquent vocabulary had temporarily taken leave of him, but he was too bemused to care. All he could think about was the bundle of red-and-white cloth lumped on his desk.
"Just wear it, boss. Even Fullmetal's going along," his subordinate said, grinning through his cigarette. It might be due to his overactive imagination, but Mustang thought the grin appeared almost sharklike.
Left alone in his office, Mustang eyed the bundle and sighed. At least it wasn't something indecent (like a maid or kitty outfit – the horrors!), but there went his hopes of going in something that wouldn't make him look like a complete dork.
They were already well into the merrymaking when the Flame Alchemist slunk into the ballroom, trying to remain unnoticed. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to the poor man (who was already stressed out as it was) that white contrasted greatly with black. Which meant that the more he tried to hide, the more he stood out. Come to think of it, that was probably the intent of whichever subordinate that orchestrated the whole affair.
"There he is!" someone called out. "Colonel, get your ass over here so that we can complete our party!"
Mustang visibly deflated, but complied, dragging his feet like a reluctant child and greatly resembling a puppy with its tail between its legs.
"Our VIP's here!" Havoc called out, drawing his unfortunate superior to his side and thumping him on the shoulder a bit too enthusiastically. "The essential component of our group!" His fake armour plates rattled with his excited move and Mustang let loose a disgruntled mumble when their edges stuck into him. He did not, after all, have the fortune of coming in a hard outer covering. Havoc turned, and the blade of his (fake) axe whapped down on Mustang's head.
"Havoc, let up on the colonel," Hawkeye admonished while adjusting her tunic. A bow hung on her shoulder, and she sported a slim wooden quiver on her back. While rubbing the forming bruise on the back of his skull, Mustang hazarded a guess that costume or not, the arrows in it were sharp and pointy.
"I get your costume, Havoc, and even Hawkeye's," he protested weakly, gesturing to his white, flowing robes with their red triangular trimmings, "but a white mage? C'mon, you have to do better than that."
Havoc would probably have found a way to wriggle out of explaining, but as the circumstances went, he didn't have to even thing of one.
"HA! Is that Colonel Sarcasm I see? In sissy robes? As a white mage?"
"Let me die now," moaned Mustang as he dragged his hood over his head and sagged on Hawkeye's shoulder. She patted him comfortingly. Or perhaps that was her polite way of asking him to get off.
Edward and Alphonse Elric came up to the group, also decked in festivities. The Fullmetal Alchemist sported an elegant red feathered hat and was garbed in a red tabard and boots. A thin rapier hung from his belt, and he had managed to embroider the Flamel on the back of his flowing scarlet cape. Standing beside his brother, Alphonse was a contrasting presence, not merely because of the height difference, but also because his armour was a shinning white, with intricate patterns winding their way around the edges.
"I thought I'd like to join the fun," he explained shyly when he noticed their stares, lowering his head in abashment.
"You look good," Havoc said approvingly, and the younger Elric brightened visibly.
As for the elder, it was a different story all together.
"This is fantastic!" he gloated, laughing hysterically at Mustang's costume. "The great Flame Alchemist; reduced to a useless white pansy!"
In a flash Edward's rapier was in his hand, and he proceeded to wave it about as he continued his tirade. "Finally! Finally I can see Mustang stuck in a state where he has no offensive capabilities whatsoever! And it's not even raining!"
...No offensive capabilities?
His initial embarrassment and deathwish now replaced by annoyance, Roy Mustang was vindictively grateful that his staff was much sturdier and harder than that pig-sticker Ed called a sword.
-End-
A/N: For those who don't play FF, the White Mage, aka healer, is the core of the party. Without one, the whole group can just go out and get wiped. This explains what Havoc says about Roy. The jobs go as follows: Roy - White Mage, Riza - Ranger, Havoc - Warrior, Edward - Red Mage, Alphonse - Paladin. The costume descriptions follow the artifact equipment of each class from FFXI, though Roy's is the traditional WHM hooded garb. He could have gotten it worse; the Devout's costume in the remade FFIII has kitty-ears. -grin-
Happy Halloween to everyone! Sadly, I happen to be born and bred in a place where people don't acknowledge the existence of All Hallow's Eve. So no trick-or-treating for me, no matter how much I'd like to. Drop a review if you're not too busy amassing a horde of candy ;)
- Quetz.