AN: This is where the story starts picking up. Mysteries are revealed, but they still can't figure out the biggest secret. What will happen in the process?

Chapter Four:

Decommissioned

"They knew our position! There's no way they could have known! It's impossible!"

Only two hours had passed since the incident at the mountain nearest to the Briggs Fortress, but still the place and people were scrambling to find a solution. The wounded were rushed to the infirmary on the third floor, schematics were hurriedly drawn out in the war room, maps folded and marked. Rashly put together platoons of sixteen soldiers were sent out to make quick retaliations to straggling Drachmans and to down any remaining groups on the other side of the mount.

"I admit that this predicament is suspicious, Mustang," General Olivier Mira Armstrong replied in a commanding tone, "The plan was close to perfect. Our spies saw exactly where the Drachmans were headed and our placement was directly over an entire regiment. That's approximately just under one thousand men! With a surprise attack, our troops could have easily taken them out."

"Do you think our spies just made a mistake?" suggested an intimidated Major General Vulcan as he used his pointer finger to slide his spectacles up his nose.

"Don't even suggest that! If they were seen, they would have been killed on the spot!"

The room, as always, was full of higher-ups in a heated discussion. But instead of the original three officers that graced the war room with their presence the previous morning, an added three more stood idly by, awaiting a safe chance to add in their own thoughts.

Major Armstrong stood behind his older sister, arms folded and emotions abnormally less enthusiastic as per usual. His blue eyes reflected those of a man lost in a horrifying memory, and Ed, who was right across from him on the opposite side of the rectangular table, could not blame him. To his right was a frustrated and clearly discontented Roy Mustang who was in the rare position of breaking his cool demeanor. To the alchemist's left was Major Miles, a dark-skinned Amestrian of Ishvallan decent with white and silvery hair tied into a spiky up-do. Like a lot of his countrymen living outside of their home, he wore a pair of round sunglasses to hide his red irises.

Mustang crossed his arms and scowled, his military composure falling completely. "We should have been receiving information from the inside, but for some reason we've come out empty handed, and now with this situation!" He glanced quickly around to the other people surrounding the table and shook his head, the undeniable feeling of frustration spreading to those nearest him. "We have dead and wounded soldiers, civilians are missing," he added, making a pointed look at Ed which the teen took as a queue to reference their chess game in his mind, "and we're caught in between. Something isn't right here. The Drachmans have us dancing in the palms of their hands."

"I think it's safe to assume that all six of us in this room know classified information," Vulcan inserted, his gaze, too, darting from face to face except to General Armstrong. "The doors are locked?" He said as he looked to Major Miles, who nodded in response. "Good."

Edward had no idea what was going on. All he knew was that directly after the disastrous events on the battlefield, he and Mustang went for a brief examination in the infirmary where they received bandages for their minor injuries. Ed had white gauze wrapped and taped onto his forehead when he found out that he had donned a slight head wound, the minimal damage on his automail swiftly repaired, and Mustang had short wrappings around his left elbow and the slender bullet wound on the side of his knee.

Head still buzzing from the freshly horrifying memory of the massacre, the blond could not stop staring at the blotched red stains on his gloves, and as an outcome, he barely recalled Mustang's aggravated sigh which soon resulted in the man forcefully removing them and throwing the pair into an adjacent trash bin as they raced through the halls to meet in the war room. Ed's mind was so ravaged, that he didn't even think about checking up on Al. He knew his brother must be worried sick.

"Fullmetal, Major Armstrong," he heard the Fuhrer blurt out tonelessly, "You two are the only other State Alchemists that know this information."

Ed's head peaked up at that. "You mean what was on that paper?"

"Yes."

If he recalled correctly, he remembered losing the chess match, whether he liked losing to that bastard or not, but it wasn't the overall outcome of the game that Ed most vividly saw in his memories, it was how the pieces shifted across the board and how the pawns disappeared, the citizens disappeared. The words written on that sliver of paper hidden inside the King piece were ones that were impossible to forget: The enemy seeks the Truth. If that was so, then to any other man, the message would sound like a code, but in reality it was not.

"The Truth," Ed said aloud without realizing it, causing heads to turn towards his direction. When he saw that there were expectant eyes on him, he decided it was fair enough to finish his train of thought. "It's something that has to do with alchemy, right? That's why you called us here."

Mustang smirked and the blond knew that he had struck gold. "Perceptive, Ed. I'll give you credit," he shrugged in a seemingly off-handed manner. He gestured to his left and nodded to the Ishvallan descendent next to him. "Major Miles, lay out the journal on the table."

Tension beginning to devour the steaming air, and Ed watched as the stoic man walked up and placed what looked like a research journal before them. He saw Mustang raise a hand and explain that the book had been retrieved from an alchemist in a town near North City only a day ago when the old gentleman discovered that someone had been trekking around his home and made an attempt to sneak into his lab. He reported it to the authorities, who then reported it to the MPs, who spread the news to the main military, which resulted in its retrieval.

Noticing that a page in the thing had been bookmarked, Ed glanced over to Mustang who reallocated his attention to the Major and asked him to read the importantly marked line.

"The sun and moon reflect the eye but separate as two until there is only the eye's window, the crescent, and the four attached. These are thrice the greatest," Miles read so that all could hear, making it a point to stand as straight as possible so that they would not see his confusion with the words in the tattered book that he held open on the stand in the middle of the room with one hand. "It's coded," the Major said when he was finished. The other three in the area were keenly awaiting a response from the alchemists. It was neither their forte nor their interest.

Ed placed a hand on his chin and thought hard. It sounded as if he should know something. He remembered reading about alchemical symbols related to celestial objects, and those were the sun and the moon themselves. He squinted his golden eyes at the journal and thought deeper, reminiscing on The Promised Day and the solar eclipse. The sun and the moon together!

"Those symbols can mean a lot of things in alchemy, but I'm sure in this case the sun represents the male," he said while Mustang and the younger Armstrong nodded in agreement. "The moon is female. Together they can become what people say is god-like, but separated…"

Vulcan raised an eyebrow and suggested, "Then they're just male and female."

"Right," replied Edward. "If they're separated they're just people." He remained still and glared at the open book as if it was his worst enemy. There was something missing, something he couldn't quite recall, but he knew that it was up to him to figure it out. Mustang's specialty was flame alchemy, while Armstrong's had something to do with reshaping metals and stones, causing explosions, but they knew that this was entirely the Elric's realm. He was the only one who very few people knew of to have tampered so much with the taboo of human alchemy.

Then something clicked and one could visibly see it etched onto the teenager's face, which is why they eagerly let him continue. "The eye. An eye's window…that's the soul," he breathed out noisily and then a grin graced his features. "Body, mind, and soul. The body is the 'four attached', and the mind is the crescent moon. The 'four attached' could mean the four main elements in alchemy or symbolize a stone which refers to the body if it's said like that." He was on a roll, and they could feel it as he inched closer to an answer. "If they're put together, those are the main three parts of a human body, strictly speaking."

"But why would some third-rate bastard need to know that the body, mind, and soul were attracted to each other?" Ed exhaled, "That's pointless."

"I see," Mustang said as he cleared his throat, earning his audience's attention. "This is something to think about. We might have to involve Investigations if the problem runs any further." He turned his head toward Ed. "Fullmetal," he went on as the blond acknowledged the statement, "I know that this is off normal regulations, but we need you to conduct some research. I want you and your brother to work together. Furey and Major Armstrong will have to take care of your regiment for now."

"Okay," Ed replied blandly. He didn't particularly enjoy heeding to orders, especially ones given to him by the Flame Alchemist, but he knew that in this situation it was better not to argue. Things were going downhill far too fast and too soon. He noted that he needed to check up on Alphonse anyway. That guard in front of his room was probably long gone, deployed off somewhere because of this screw-up. He had no doubt that Al was trying to penetrate through the alchemy circle that Ed had drawn onto the door to counteract just in case his stubborn sibling made a break for it and went to follow him onto the battlefield. The older Elric was more than glad that his brother didn't come.

Mustang nodded and then said that his subordinate could leave, and so he did, calmly slipping out through the door and not bothering to listen in this time. His head was pounding with too much new information, possible theories and alchemic circles swimming throughout his thoughts. If whoever it was tried to steal a research journal with something written in it like that, Ed could only come to one conclusion, and that was Human Transmutation. If it wasn't that, then their secret project most likely encompassed something along the same lines, a living being had to be somewhere in that equation.

He felt himself move grudgingly up the steps and up from the second floor to the military dorms on the fourth and waded past automatically saluting soldiers and officers. Suddenly, he felt weary enough to collapse; his short-lived tirade on the field weighing on him like he was dragging lead on his ankles. He felt eyes boring into his back, the gauze rubbing against his scalp, and the blood loss starting to affect his sluggish movements, until, at last, he reached his door with a key in hand.

In earnest, Ed rubbed off the chalk that would cause his brother to stay locked up in the bedroom with the back of one of his bloodstained sleeve. It was almost funny to him. He hadn't noticed the blood that was splattered across his uniform. He probably should have washed off first, but their shower rooms and bathrooms were shared as one facility. His hand twisted the key into the dead bolt and the door swung open, which he immediately secured shut as he had no desire for people outside to witness what he knew would be an angry Alphonse. And boy was he right.

"You stupid brother!" Al shouted so loudly like his voice reverberated throughout the room and rang on the metal bars of the bunk beds. It was so unlike the youngest Elric to be this furious that even Edward had to wince. "What if Winry could see you now, huh? You're such an idiot, brother!"

He was standing up, far from the bunks and Ed's battered suitcase. Al's fists were shaking in ferocity and he was glaring daggers. "This is why I followed you here! You always have to go off and do something stupid!"

Ed stepped forward but stopped when his brother scowled. Instead he tried to placate him. "Al, I'm fine, really—"

"Fine? You're covered in blood!" Al shot back. "I know what happened, so don't try to hide it like you always do."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. In the back of his mind, Ed knew that Al was right. He would try to hide it if his brother did not know. As the eldest brother, he always had this natural instinct to protect his sibling, even though he was fully aware that most of the time, Al didn't even need his protection at all. Al's tone lowered and he unexpectedly returned back to the Al that he had always known.

"You always think you can blame yourself for everything and do everything on your own," he said somberly, "Remember? We said we'd stick together no matter what. Your words."

With that, Ed couldn't contain himself anymore. Even though his mind was still stuck in the recollection of tainted snow, explosions, and the brute force of war, Al somehow managed to pull him out of that even for a short while. His brother always had that ability. He could always uplift Ed's spirits, make him rethink things before he dove into them, but it was the same as showing just how strong their bond truly was. Al made him determined in a way that no one else could, though he could say that Winry was him feel strongly about his actions in a whole different way. But as far as he could tell, there was nothing like being viciously scolded by his brother.

Ed started to laugh, a short musical and rough note, but it was effective enough. "You're right, Al," he chuckled, much to the younger brother's bewilderment, "I look like a mess from the junkyard, don't I?"

"Yes but—" Al blinked.

Edward put up a hand to stop him and walked over to the bottom bunk to sit down. He sighed as he crossed his arms across his lap, wrists bumping against each other. His younger brother followed with his eyes and soon he was opposite him with his mouth slightly agape. Even if it was just him, Al found it rare for his older brother to succumb so rapidly.

Ed sighed again as he locked eyes with Al, a stern expression on his face, "Save the rest of your lecture for later." Alphonse gave him a questioning glance, but Ed disregarded it. "Like it or not, we've just been assigned research duty by Fuhrer Bastard and you're supposed to help with this crap."

"R—Research?"

"Yeah, and I'd rather not be ordered to do it, but it looks like someone would have to do it anyway." He pointed at his neck, "Leash, remember?" Ed narrowed his irises at his sibling and gritted his teeth, an expression that seemed to suggest anger breaking his mask. "But you're not on one. Just don't forget it. I'm only bringing you into this because I have to." Al agreed, albeit hesitantly to his brother's words.

As much as Edward wanted to avoid bringing his only other blood relative left into a such as war, an order was an order. He still hated them and he would much rather make the decisions for himself, but it was kind of difficult to refuse when the Ice Queen was breathing down your back or when a bunch of people with high authority were staring you down. But nonetheless, he told himself that he wasn't just doing it for them, he was mostly doing it because if he didn't there would always be that chance that someone else could die because of his mistakes or of his denial to do the job.

At times like this, he was reminded of Maes Hughes and the atrocious fashion in which he lost his life, slaughtered in a telephone booth by the most despicable homunculus, Envy. Even though Ed did admit that he felt a twinge of pity with the artificial human committed, the horror of Envy yelling out that he killed Hughes by transforming into his wife was almost too much to bear.

He thought of how Lan Fan, Ling's most trusted body guard, lost her arm after Ed introduced them to the idea of the homunculi. He thought of Winry Rockbell's trembling hands as she held a handgun in the face of the man that murdered her parents, Scar. He thought of Nina Tucker as the girl that he could never save, and of her father that he wished could have at least lived a moment longer so that he could knock some sense into that man. But most of all, he thought of every mistake he thought he made that most likely caused every single mishap. Ed despised himself most of all for it and he really, truthfully hoped that he could make amends. He didn't want anyone else to get hurt.

"Alright. I made you a promise," Ed murmured as Al leaned in to listen closely, "I said that we'd stick together and never give up." He breathed deeply and closed his eyelids. "Equivalent Exchange. Now you have to make me a promise, brother."

Al bobbed his head in agreement, softly replying. "Right. What is it?"

Their line of sight collided again, this time more intense than ever, a form of brotherly bond that no one but the two could possibly comprehend. Simultaneously, they brought out their right fists and bumped them like they always would when they were determined and about to make a heavy decision. Grinning, they separated and Al signaled that his brother could continue.

"Promise that you'll never follow in your older brother's footsteps."

Al laughed and smiled so widely that for an instant all you could see was a flash of white teeth. "I never would dream of it, brother."

From that second on, the two brothers began to delve deep into their research, taking advantage of the small library that the expanded fortress had. They asked numerous questions to any State Alchemist wandering around that they could find, writing hasty notes on napkins and scraps of paper when time permitted. Edward brought in the salvaged alchemy research journal and they came up with as many plausible theories as to why someone would want the information that was scribbled into it, but what they were not aware of was the fact that their teamwork wouldn't last for very long.

Alphonse, on the other hand, had other plans in mind and never said a word to his brother about them. Seeing how Ed had walked into their room on the day of the ambush, it gave him a stronger resolve to complete the task he came here for. Yes, he wanted to make sure that his sibling would stay in line, and yes he genuinely cared about his combat habits, which Ed tended to constantly dive into, but there was something else. Al still wanted to challenge the Truth, just in case the situation turned sour for his brother. If Ed could still believe in the concept of Equivalent Exchange even after all of this time without his skill of alchemy, then he could do the same.

For the sake of that equivalency and the for the sake of his brother's welfare, he would once again confront the Truth, but that would only be his trump card for now. There was something that he knew his brother needed and he was going to get it, even if Ed were to find out. But as of the situation now, he could wait a little while longer…

ooo

"This is bad, chief," Heymans Breda breathed to his superior officer, even though he was years younger than himself, "The Drachmans have just allied themselves with Creta. If we don't do something soon, Amestris is done for. They have too many people on their side. Drachma is a country that's huge enough in size."

Ed found himself stuck with the Second Lieutenant again. It was late afternoon and it was just three days after the bloodbath at Mount Heinkel. The two caught up to each other after a rushed visit with First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye in the infirmary, who recently had a painful procedure done in which one of the drafted doctors forcefully popped her dislocated shoulder back in. Mustang wasn't too happy about that.

For some reason or another, the warfront had been unusually quiet after day one, giving Ed and Al plenty of leisure time to research, not that anyone had dared to disrupt them. Plus, it only made the higher-ups all the more apprehensive. They hadn't come up with any new leads, but both brothers were sure now that whoever was trying to steal alchemic journals from unaware alchemists wanted to perform something on the human body. It was a gruesome thought, but the problem still remained that they had no idea who was carrying it out or why people were being reported as missing left and right. None of them could be sure if the two quandaries were even related in the first place.

Could that enemy be using the Drachma and Amestris war as a precious distraction in order to take research notes away while the country's security was down? Could Drachmans themselves being doing the job? Was it some unforeseen adversary from a fascist group or from a leader that was against the government policies? It was hard to be sure.

"What?" Ed whispered back fast, adrenaline suddenly building up. "What do you mean they've allied with Creta?"

Checking around for listeners, Breda whipped his head around, but was satisfied when he found none. Just to make sure, he dove into a deserted corridor and brought Ed with him, shushing the teen as they went. They backed up against a wall and both soldiers now stood side-by-side. Ed guessed that Breda simply didn't want to get caught speaking this bit of news.

The stocky man leaned his head forward slightly so that Ed could hear well. "It's just how it sounds, chief," he said in an undertone, pressing his hands to his sides. "Look, the Boss wanted you to know and just you. No one else can know. If this news spreads, there'll be panic." The Elric understood the "Boss's" reasoning. Mustang was great at keeping the necessary secrets; he could give credit to that.

He tilted his head to the side as if asking a question of continuity and Breda grunted an answer. "There's already trouble in the Western Sector because Drachma surrounds that area too, but with Creta involved, a part of the South Area is starting to get attacked. At this rate, the whole country could be enclosed and assaulted." He breathed out in frustration. "The Boss and the other generals agreed that they need to make a pact with Aerugo, you know, get them on our side, but the tension from when Bradley was still in power is too much of a hassle."

"What about Xing?" asked Ed softly and urgently.

Breda's hands wrung out in front of him as the discussion clearly was making him all the more bothered by the circumstances. "You see, that was our first choice. We're on good terms with them and Emperor Ling Yao. The only problem is that they're on the other side of that damned Desert Area. It'll take days just for a platoon of help to come on that new train route across the desert and what about their supplies? They can't just come here empty handed. It'll be death for them and the death of us."

Ed grinded the top and bottom layers of his teeth together, a bad habit he started to get used to in vital situations. "Can't Squinty Eyes figure something out?" He simmered back, referring to Xing's Emperor with a disrespectful nickname. "What about that rumor about the sea route from Xing to Amestris?"

"That would be great if it didn't land them in the South Area. The North is being pounded on the most and I have a feeling that we're going to need them here instead of wasting their energy in South City, but at least we contacted their ruler and maybe we'll get something out of it soon."

"So that bastard basically told you to pull me over just to tell me that we're all screwed," the blond alchemist huffed. "I could have rammed my fist in his face enough times to get him to spit that crap out on his own."

The Second Lieutenant smirked at the Elric brother's reaction, averting his downcast gaze to the profile of the teen next to him. If Breda could say so himself, it was just as expected from Edward. "Heh," he spat out nonchalantly, "You should be more respectful to the boss, Ed. He is the leader of an entire nation now, right? Give him some credit. You know being what you say he is isn't what he's all about. If he was just some charismatic dictator, we wouldn't follow him, and neither would you."

Ed glared at the man. "Like hell I would follow a bastard like—"

Just as the teen was about to finish his thought, abruptly, bright red lights flamed the metallic walls. On the floor danced the irregular circles of artificial beams and the storming boots of men smashed onto the concrete, echoing with such ferocity that it rang in their eardrums. A siren was blaring through unseen speakers, filling the air with an intense feel of desperation and hurried stress.

"What the hell's going on?" shouted Ed at the top of his lungs, his voice muffled from the earsplitting blast. Both he and Breda had clapped their hands to their ears just as the terrible screeching of the Brigg's alarm system switched on. Already, their vision could only see the red that reflected onto the floors and off of the dangling icicles on the outside ceilings. Even those began to fall with a crash as too many men ran past.

"We have to get out of here," the lower ranking officer blurted out, "it's an emergency! Get to the barracks and get your weapons! I have a feeling that we're getting out of here and into the fray!"

They nodded determinedly to each other and split off to opposite directions, Breda down the hall that the two were just speaking in and Ed around the corner to the back. He went past young recruits going towards a different path. His heart was beating fiercely against his chest, his ribcage burning with adrenaline and the blood running through his veins felt more of a curse than a blessing. Like all the times before, his brain couldn't process everything that surged around him. His only focus was the goal.

The toes of his black boots rammed into the bottom of his dorm entry, the metal clanging in response. Just as he was about to whip out his key and shove it into the keyhole, the door swung open and out Ed come the frantic outline of his younger brother, identical golden eyes darting hysterically back and forth.

"Brother! What's—" Al started, but Ed quickly stepped around him and into his back weapons locker, his Winchester rifle leaning on the rear wall of its cold metal. He checked the leather holster to see if there were still usable grenades inside and was satisfied when there were. Slinging the belt around his waist, he roughly clipped it tight and shut, grabbing his firearm and draping it over his back with the strap in a slanted position. Ed lost his Webley Revolver handgun in the failed mission, but it was replaced with another one when he brought it up to Mustang, so he tucked the weapon muzzle down into its own separate compartment. He got a hold of his standard issued black helmet and held it in his arm while making sure that he had extra ammunition. When Ed was ready, eardrums still reverberating from the noise that went off outside his room, he walked up to Al, who stood still and shocked near the entrance, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Stay here," Edward said firmly and he thought that his serious advance would work, but the expression on his brother's face said otherwise.

Ed tried to brush it off and shook his head, shoving the helmet that he was carrying in his arm on his head, blond locks secured into a ponytail while their respective choppy bangs fell to the sides of his face. The alchemist began to stomp off so that he would eventually fall into the already thinning lines of soldiers in the halls, but was just as immediately cut short when he heard the resolve in his brother's voice.

"I'm coming with you!" Al yelled above the alarm. Ed tried to protest, but the younger Elric had already run past him, making any form of objection futile. He groaned in aggravation, but had no choice but to follow his already distant brother, Al's brown leather coat reaching far ahead of him.

"AL!" Edward called after him, but the younger teen had just turned a convenient corner. "Ugh! Get over here!" He kept running to keep up the soldiers' pace, a hand gripping onto the strap that held his rifle close to his body. "Forget it! When I catch up to you, I'll beat you up myself!"

Realizing that he had already began descending to the first floor, the cold oozing out throughout the passages, he breathed out visible puffs of carbon dioxide. His hands were freezing and then he noticed that he forgot a pair of gloves.

Damn it! That bastard threw my other ones away, he contemplated crossly.

"Ed! I—I mean, sir!" Sergeant Major Kain Furey sprinted up behind the blond and he swiveled around, anticipating whatever orders the usually timid man had come bearing along with him. He saluted hurriedly and Ed saw the heavyset radiophones clinching onto his head. "Here," he said finally after quickly rummaging through a rather large bag that was tossed onto one of his shoulders. Furey handed him a lighter looking headset with a microphone attached to it so that he could speak. "Fuhrer Mustang's orders. He wants all leaders of a regiment or platoon to have one."

"But I thought you and Armstrong—"

Ed was cut off. "Sorry I had to be so blunt, sir, but please excuse me, we don't have enough time," Furey added instantly after he refused a higher officer from speaking his turn. "We were only ordered to take over your regiment while you and your brother did the research, but this is an emergency and your knowledge on alchemy is needed on the battlefield, sir."

The seventeen-year-old colonel nodded in understanding and asked, "What about the headset?"

Furey pointed at it and Ed got the signal that he had to put them on. An odd buzzing sound came from each side and he wasn't quite sure what to make out of it, but he could still vividly hear his surroundings, the clashing of weaponry and the stomping feet of men.

"All headsets are connected to each other sir," the Sergeant Major replied hastily, his voice quivering as the siren's blare only seemed to grow louder and louder. "You'll be connected with Majors Miles and Armstrong, Major Avro Lancaster of the third platoon, Major General Vulcan, the General, and the Fuhrer to keep communications high. The higher-ups want to take all precautions so that hopefully nothing like the other mission can happen again."

Ed saw the officer place a hand onto his right earmuff and strain to hear whatever was coming from it. Furey's eyebrows knitted together and he moved his head up and down like he was talking to someone.

"Right," he barely picked up the soldier saying. "I'll be there right away ma'am." The man stared up at Ed and shrugged, saying that General Armstrong needed his presence and said that she wanted the alchemist up at the front as soon as possible.

Edward took that signal and dashed as fast as his flesh and synthetic legs could carry him. In almost no time at all, he had reached the front of the Briggs Fortress, the same way he entered through when he came in a car full of conscripts and when he and Al had first arrived there roughly two years previously. The worst part of it was Ed couldn't help but think that it was colder now. At least he had gloves back then and Al had been a suit of armor.

"Speaking of Al," he muttered to himself as he walked up to one of the formations and found the Flame Alchemist located off to the side and observing the chaos for order, "where the hell is he?"

He was about to run off in another course before he heard the bellow of "Fullmetal!" Ed turned back on his heel and headed toward his superior, bounding ahead on his two feet at an increasingly faster pace. When he reached Mustang, the man acknowledged his headphones and made a hum of approval while he tapped his own to test them. His dark eyes scanned the horde of weapons that the teenager carried for a second and he nodded again.

"Good, you're prepared for once." At that declaration Ed growled. Nonetheless, Mustang spoke for a second time. "Most of our intelligence reports are faulty. I think someone is tampering with them," he said irritably as he crossed his arms compactly and glowered at nothing in particular. "Because of that, we've gotten ourselves in something worse than before and we got our reports too late. See that over there?" Ed replied with a 'yeah' and the Flame went on, "Those are barricades from the Drachman army. They've surrounded the fort and we didn't even realize it. Squads have already been sent in to try and infiltrate some of them, but it's a no-go. We need a larger group, which is why most of our soldiers have been called out."

"You want me to lead them?"

He nodded as a response. "You're a colonel, Ed. It would be your job. Trouble is we need you and your brother for something else. In fact, we need all State Alchemists for something else. Though it's off regulation again, Major Miles has your duty under control."

An explosion sounded in the foreground and Ed was all too aware that the battle was just about to begin. He didn't feel the same nervousness as before, but something along the lines of dread. Something in his head was telling him to turn back now, to just give up and stay away, but his own stubborn attitude wouldn't let him.

"Al's here?" Ed glanced around for his lost brother, but he couldn't seem to find him. "Where is he?"

Mustang could sense his subordinate's worry, but he couldn't blame him. The two brothers were joined at the hip. If one went someplace, then so would the other. He knew the oldest one had no intention for bringing Al to be on the battlefield, but when Mustang caught a glimpse of the younger Elric chasing after his brother, he had the solution integrated into his strategy almost on instinct.

"Al's already in a squadron with Major Armstrong. With you and I included, it will be a complete set." Ed started to oppose, but Mustang held up a pacifying gloved hand which only reminded the blond of the palm coverings he was dearly missing.

"Don't argue, Ed. He wanted to do it anyway, something about making sure his brother doesn't go off to do something stupid again," the raven haired main leered in a bleak reaction.

Ed wanted to bang his forehead on the ground repeatedly at his brother's inherent perseverance, but he could distantly pick up the spray of the machinegun in the far off expanse and was certain that there was no time left. Mustang seemed to agree, for he gestured for the teen to follow him and they sprinted off into the edge of a nearby forest. Men were obviously curious as to why their colonel and Fuhrer King had run off when they could be leading them, but the leftover high ranking officers held them off.

When the two State Alchemists entered the snow covered forest, they were instantaneously met by a synchronized yelp of "Brother!" and "Sir and Edward Elric!" Alphonse was positioned anxiously next to a muscular Major Armstrong. The two were without weapons, and Ed become conscious of the fact that he was the only well armed one of their groups, Mustang only donning a simple handgun and a pack of bullets around his middle. It wasn't hard to guess that their weapons would be alchemy, save for Ed.

"Right," Mustang addressed the Major, "have the preparations been made?"

"Yes sir," Armstrong responded dutifully, standing straight into a military pose. "The enemy's movements have been carefully calculated. A squad of them should come into a nearby clearing in minutes. The Drachmans are attempting to go with the element of surprise on our men. We need to stop them there. If we take out their surrounding emissaries, then it should weaken their core, sir. If we use the same concept as when the State Alchemists attacked as a group in Ishval… " His tenor shuddered and Mustang held up a hand as a signal to stop speaking.

"I understand, Major," he said meaningfully. He glanced at the miniature battles that were picking up outside of the forest. The ashy aroma of smoke burned their nostrils, an ironic fire that they wished they could light in the cold weather to bring warmth and comfort to the icy feeling that crept throughout the pores of their skin. "Let's get going," he suggested and he led the way stealthily though the crunch of the white blanket and the pine needles.

The path to the clearing was eerily silent. Ed saw a dead patch of grass peeking from beneath the snow and there were pebbles littering the ground below the trunks of bare trees. The air seemed to grow chillier and he shivered just as much. The fur sewn onto the cuffs, collar, and inside his standard navy uniform did nothing to alleviate his discomfort. The frigid atmosphere could still flow past his uncovered palms. He pulled the extra fabric from inside his shirt that was supposed to be used to cover a soldier's chin to nose and he pushed it up so that it did its work.

Eventually, even the solemn trek to their destination became bland. It felt like they were walking for an eternity, despite the fact that the there were signs of battle wherever they went. They could hear it. They could smell it. They could feel it rattling their bones. War truly was a whole and singular type of hell. Every part of the body became one with it, resonated with it and the uncertainty of death or destruction, whether one could live with the lucky longevity to tell the tale.

The entire squadron knelt behind the bushes of the clearing, finally finding the place they were searching for. Mustang made a motion that suggested that they should split up. The Flame went on his own to the left of the surroundings, while he pointed Armstrong to the right. Ed and Al were to remain together on their original spot as the Drachmans were expected to come out from their front.

A buzzing noise resounded from Ed's headset. "Fullmetal, Armstrong, do you copy?" It was the static sounding voice of the Flame.

"Got it Fuhrer Bastard," Ed breathed in reply. "What're your orders?"

The three had a short-lived conversation that involved Mustang attacking first. At the initial sight of movement from the Drachmans, he was to snap his fingers and cut off their advance with a literal line of fire. That assault would cause the winter debris on Armstrong's side to flare up so that soldiers would start to back away from there, but also become wary of the direction the fire came from. Ed would start to fire his rifle, hopefully wounding some, which would cause them to rebound and fire back in the same course while Alphonse put up a partition to block the bullets. Lastly, Armstrong would make his move and encompass the entire group with his alchemy so that they could trap and finish them off.

The thing was it would have happened that way, the Drachmans defeated by a furtive arrangement, if the soldiers hadn't somehow come prepared. How they knew, the alchemists never found out, but soon found themselves bombarded with smoke bombs. For a moment, Ed and Al were aware of something flying towards their direction behind the leafless bushes. It was something shaped like a sphere and a smoking substance spewed from it, then it hit the floor inches from their feet, blowing up and smoldering. Dust rose in twirls of clouded clumps and swirled in the air only to obscure their vision.

A few feet away, Ed could hear the sounds of struggling, punches being thrown to their unseen attackers. He assumed that no one dared to shoot a bullet, for fear of injuring their own men. The sole good purpose that came from throwing a smoke bomb was that it disabled both sides from seeing anything.

Suddenly there was a familiar click. Flames burst out like a hot breath from the earth to the sky, lighting up the darkening day for only but a flash. The brief fire sucked in oxygen, causing some of the smoke to dim down, but the saltpeter included in a smokescreen's ingredients reacted almost as instantaneously to the heat, making small spurts of energy burn on the ends of branches.

"What the hell, Mustang?" Ed muttered into his microphone, covering his nose further with the fabric and making sure that Alphonse covered his face too. "Great. Now we know Drachma puts too much potassium nitrate into their smoke! If we breathe this in, we could be stuck in bed for days!"

The buzzing occurred again while the two brothers latched their arms over their heads and took cover somewhere further in the back. "Do you have any better ideas, Fullmetal? It was the only way to clear the smoke fast enough!" He groaned in annoyance. "How the hell did they know we were here?"

Ed glanced at Al to make sure he was nearby, and then they both ducked when a spray of flying bullets barely missed them. They heard coughing from a horde of men, many more men than they had on their squad, and orders in a gruff iron tongue, a thick accent intact. The drone from his headphones shook once more, this time with jumbles of "What's going on?", "Fuhrer Mustang, sir!", and "We're being slaughtered!" He disliked the last exclamation the most.

The shutter of disjointed words filled his head as another order came in. "Armstrong! Surround them now while their distracted!"

The floor rumbled in response and soon the entire clearing was enclosed within a ring of pointed earth, clearly a professional alchemist's bidding. Pieces of earth shook and leaped for concise lapses. Carefully, Ed unhooked his rifle and aimed to fire, eyes squinting at any possible target. In truth, the Elric despised any form of firearm, but seeing as how he found himself stuck in a forsaken situation like this, there was no other choice. It wasn't like he aimed to kill anyway.

"Brother, what are you doing?" whispered Al from behind.

Ed pointed the muzzle of his gun at the feet of an unknown enemy soldier, but still waited to actually pull the trigger. "Following orders from that bastard for the first and last time in my life," he exhaled as a reply. "Al, don't get hit. You're not a suit of armor that bullets can ricochet off of anymore."

"I know."

The grayish-blue smoke started to billow in their area and most of it finally dispersed. Taking note that his younger sibling did not have a helmet, Ed squatted below and untied his, handing it to Al. "Take it and put it on," Ed said quietly before he positioned himself for shooting again. At first the younger brother refused, saying that Ed could need it too, but he retaliated by answering that it was irritating to have it on with a headset anyway.

"We know you're there Amestrians!" A commanding voice shouted beyond the screen. "We know what you're planning!"

Ed scowled. This was becoming more troublesome than it needed to be. First the Drachmans somehow figured out that they were speculating on a surprise attack at Mount Heinkel, but now this? How much information could have leaked out? It was more obvious than ever that someone was feeding it to them. Spies or no spies, a military base could not discover this many enemy plans. Something was up.

The muffled noises of the speakers in his communication device sounded once more, but this time there were other exploding showers of ammunition and shrapnel that accompanied it. "Mustang…!" He strained his ears to listen in as well as pay attention to his surroundings. "Get…your men…of there now! They…coming up behind you…!" A shifting clamor echoed and the background started to become fuzzy, a deafening beeping resounded and Ed gritted his teeth as he finally heard Mustang shout outside of the broadcasting, "Fullmetal! Get out of there!"

Boots were tramping on the snowfall and Ed felt his adrenaline flare up. He dive-bombed and shoved Al with him yards away from where they originally crouched. Bullet holes showered the spot they escaped, hoary shells littering the vicinity. Drachmans were behind them, cloaked in the dark brown uniform of their military units and the silver stars and stripes that indicated each rank they belonged to.

Al clapped just on time, ammo ricocheting off the transmuted and hardbound soil. His older brother shot at their feet from behind the wall and they backed away, but it wasn't enough. Not only had the squad they were supposed to attack know that they were here, another faction was on their backs, ready for anything. They were outnumbered and surrounded.

The soldiers backed them up until they were at gun point on both ends, Ed and Al having been forced to walk into the clearing. Ed knew that it would be too dangerous to fire his rifle, seeing as there were plenty more people around him than he could take on in his arrangement. He saw Armstrong striking the ground with full force, uplifting the earth once again, but even though he had already produced a barrier for the Drachmans to be trapped behind, they somehow kept on coming.

It was becoming a hellhole. Diving for the nearest exit between soldiers' legs, Ed and Al managed to escape the crowd on opposite sides, each throwing out their own forms of self-defense. Ed shot his primary weapon at their legs, blood spurting out in thin geysers, avoiding massive showers of machinegun debris from hitting any of his vital body parts, though he did receive a minor injury that skimmed his left shoulder blade.

Al recognized that someone was aiming at his brother, so he instinctively transmuted an alchemized divider between that man and Ed right before kicking him in the stomach. When Ed realized this, he shouted a quick "Owe you one, Al!" and shot another man that was behind the younger Elric in the thigh.

The older brother heard the electric currents of a blue transmutation. Al had performed a substantial amount of alchemy, clapping his hands together almost non-stop. Stone fists jutted out from the ground and punched men off their feet, blooming purple bruises on their faces and skin. He saw Armstrong whipping a man in the face, effectively breaking his nose with a nasty crunch. Mustang snapped his fingers to produce spurts of orange-yellow fire that burned most of their enemy to a factual crisp, only using his knowledge from his unwanted trip to the Gate when too many men advanced on him and he forced his gloves together to form a barrier between them.

A soldier tried to run up to Edward, but he blocked him almost immediately as he dived to make a last minute shot, shooting him in the shoulder and hissing when his own shoulder stung in a pained reaction. He could see only the battle before him. All that he could do was survive and protect those closest to him. Everything became a blur. Fists and dropkicks were flailing in midair; minuscule bangs hit the already tarnished white of the snow, staining it with crimson. People dove for cover while crossing their hands on their heads. Confusion was everywhere as regular soldiers attempted to take on the might of the renowned Amestrian State Alchemists.

It seemed like, for once in this feud, Amestris would win.

Another explosion resounded and Ed bounced on his feet when it shook the ground in a small-scale earthquake. His chin and elbows were shoved into the snow, freezing his limbs more than they needed to be. But as he gradually stood up, he realized that he had flown for a few seconds across the front to the other side of the clearing and was now near Al and the Flame.

It seemed that they were both struggling to right themselves as swiftly as they could, but Ed found out that hard way that the hand grenade that went off was just a diversion.

Just as Roy Mustang was about to click his fingers together to spout out another bout of fire, a single Drachman soldier, a sniper, aimed his firearm at him. It was apparent now with what they wanted: the leader of Amestris.

"Shit!" Ed bellowed, clearly the only one that could see it, Al turned his head in that direction and unexpectedly the event transformed into slow motion, like a reel that was broken.

"Mustang!" The eldest Elric brother yelled again and tried to push the man over. "Gah!" His eyes stung and he sunk on his knees to the flurry on the soil. The Fuhrer was a foot away from him, his gloves plummeting into the snow until they were soaked and useless. He couldn't fire a single shot now and he glowered at the red threads that made up the salamander transmutation circles on them, mocking him at his own hopelessness.

"BROTHER!"

The shot resounded in the broad moonlight, and Alphonse Elric couldn't see anything anymore. His vision blurred all too suddenly, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't cry. He was almost a man, only a few years short. Something like this should have already been etched somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew something like this could happen when he climbed in the last coach of that train. He knew.This was war and that was the way it was.

This is war.

This is war.

There was too much. There was blood, too much of it, everywhere.

Laughter enclosed the area and just as fast as they came, Drachman officers encircled Edward and took him up by his shoulders, dragging him off to their side, but Mustang couldn't do anything. He was in shock. His subordinate, one of his most valuable men, had been wounded right before his eyes. Why couldn't he do anything? Why wouldn't he just pull out his handgun and end it for the very sniper that shot him?

His fingers fingered the weapon and he pulled it out to fire, but he was too late. Even just mere inches away from Mustang, they held an unconscious Ed before him, dangling his flesh and synthetic legs off of the ground. A man held a gun to the blond alchemist's head.

"Make one move," the dark haired soldier growled, "and we'll kill him for sure."

Al couldn't take it anymore. His brother's uniform was mixing with red, violet hued in places it should not be. The color was beginning to spread from the initial area of the intention which was Ed's right side and just below his ribcage. Al's expression scrunched up and the tips of his fingers began to tremble until he let out enraged outbursts.

The desperate cries from the youngest Elric came from Mustang's right. Al struggled to run forward, about to clap his hands and attempt to free his sibling, but the soldier fired and the teen stopped in his tracks, breathing fast and thoughts evolving into an unintelligible jumble. A bullet embedded itself into Ed's right foot as he gave out a startled and forcibly muffled holler, his lips and eyes sealed shut as he tried to keep it in, and right after he went unconscious again.

Without realizing it, a Drachman rammed the butt of his rifle into the back of Alphonse's head, successfully silencing him for the time being when he showed signs of bursting forward another second later.

"Alphonse!" Mustang roared as he stood up. He lurched forward, but couldn't decide whom to save first; however, the soldier that knocked the other alchemist down now held the point of his rifle to the teen's head.

"You are going to do as we say," the man said menacingly, "or both of your precious dogs of the military will die by our hands."

The Flame Alchemist scowled. "What do you want?"

"It's simple, really," his voice began to tremor with a heavy accent as he spoke. "You will give us the Fullmetal Alchemist and if you don't, well…" Both officers holding the brothers hostage shoved the ends of their guns further onto the crowns of their heads, leaving an imprint of the iron circles. "…You know what will happen."

Fuhrer King Mustang had no choice but to obey. They were ensnared in a sticky situation, held up to the neck with a rope. He could either let them take Ed barely alive, or let them murder him on the spot. Either way, he knew that when Alphonse woke up the Elric would be desperate enough to discern anything that could be a solution, no matter what it was. That actuality alone scared him the most.

"Alright," he murmured, holding up his arms in surrender, "Do what you have to."

ooo

In the infirmary, the youngest Elric went from in and out of consciousness. He could not remember much of his goings-on, but he could scarcely pick up sentences from the people all around him. People muttered in hurried tones, footsteps stuck the tiles in a more urgent way than he ever recalled. He felt warm though, but just for a short while. He was sure he was back to someplace safe…

"Damn it! What the hell are we going to do now? They've taken a State Alchemist!"

They've taken… Al was thinking to himself. Who had they taken? Who exactly? Was it someone that he knew?

"Ed's gone with them! Who knows what kind of shit they're going to do to him, but I had no choice!" The familiar tenor of Roy Mustang rang in his eardrums and it was evident that the man was furious. Al mouthed the word "brother" and he was sure that just for a moment, the room where he was in had grown silent. He felt eyes on him and a gentle pair of hands that tucked a thin sheet around his sides.

"Alphonse Elric is going to want to save his brother himself," another voice echoed. Was it Major Armstrong?

Wait. Save his brother? A barrage of recent happenings clouded his memory. Men in blood red snow, a gunshot and soldiers attacking them everywhere, smoke lifting into the atmosphere and pulling fabric over his nose to keep the stench and toxic fumes away from his lungs. Running, disarray, flying limbs and explosions…And then, right there in the back of his mind's eye, his brother being taken away.

"They knew where we were, just like last time. It's too much of a coincidence now," Mustang went on as he crossed his arms, onyx eyes glaring to Al's bed stand. Major Armstrong nodded in agreement, along with Miles, and General Olivier Mira Armstrong. "Someone is giving out our reports, our movements, anything they can get their hands on."

"There's no doubt about it. Someone here is a traitor." The Fuhrer King's voice echoed throughout the room and everyone in it did not doubt him. They all felt that it was true.