"RIGHT! EDWARD HOW THE HELL DID YOU BREAK YOUR AUTOMAIL!?" Ouch.

"Why the hell did you hit me with that wrench?"

Wait a minute.

Edward's leg looks perfectly fine from what she can see.

"Alphonse?" He nervously looks up at her.

"Yes, Winry?"

"Did you lie to me about Ed's automail?"

"ALPHONSE ELRIC! YOU CAN BE JUST AS BAD AS YOUR THICKHEADED OLDER BROTHER SOMETIMES!"

Half an hour later, Winry, Edward and Alphonse are all sat down and had politely talked about Edward's situation.

"Oh. So I guess I should apologise for hitting you two with my wrench then, huh?" The two didn't say anything. "Well, what have you decided to do. You're probably just paranoid, a doctor of all people would not go after you for chasing him out of Colonel Mustang's office."

For a split second, Alphonse think's she's right and that they are being paranoid, but then his rational brain returns.

"Better safe than sorry, Winry. You never know what could happen."

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

Alphonse and Edward walked to the Colonel's office in a not-so-peaceful silence filled with unheard conversation. As it was the autumn leaves were damp on the floor, and they stuck to their shoes. The humidity was almost suffocating.

Just what the hell was going on? The doctor, Doctor Emi-whosit, had made a silent threat of returning when he left, but, despite their friend's not-so-soft words, they were still worried about it.

He just seemed to rub off wrong.

And there was the fact that they couldn't get his wierd as hell appearance out of their heads. He looked like a plague doctor without the bird-mask-thingy. Ans his hair colour was wierd as hell. Was it grey or pale green or pale blue or all three? He didn't look that old, so it obviously wasn't naturally grey (and he was pretty sure blue and green weren't natural hair colours.)

"Colonel Mustang!" Alphonse called out.

"I'm in for a promotion, remember, better get used to calling me Major General Mustang."

"Oh, shut it, you pronoid* bastard!" The self-proclaimed Major General slumped lazily.

"Just sit down, already." He snapped.

"What's wrong, sir?"

"I might have done some spying on said doctor, and I heard some wierd things."

"Eh?"

"He's keeping a person in his basement. I think. Whatever it was that spoke clearly isn't there of free will, anyway, it was shouting profanities far beyond even your vocabulary, Fullmetal."

"Why do you always turn serious conversations into teasing me?"

"Your reaction is funny. Makes the room less tense."

OIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIOIO

So, bad chapter. I have plans for the next two but there was just a big gaping hole in place of this chapter and I planned on introducing Winry last chapter but... la la laaaaaa. I know that the chapters are really, really short but I can only really write 1500 words at best in a chapter before I lose interest myself, and I'm more interested in writing more chapters than words, so that's why I published the other story on my account. (Shameless advertising.) Right now I'm not too far into the chapter and this makes up half of it. That's like 200 words in the actual story.

Pronoia is the oposite of paranoia, where you think everyone is plotting your success.