He would have preferred to do this with just Lin. He didn't want Edward here risking his life and he sure as hell didn't want Al doing so either. But there he was; the little brother being just as brave, stubborn and stupid as his older brother. Havoc knew without being threatened (he just knew Edward a little too well to not understand this), that while Al had assumed responsibility to bring Elysia and Richard back, if he didn't get Al back - safe and sound - the only way he'd be going back home to Rebecca was in a body bag. It was the most he could hope.
He didn't expect much sympathy from Rebecca if he came back that way. She'd just curse him in his next life – a little superstition he'd picked up while in Xing – and tell his dead body that's what he got for being a lousy officer. He smirked.
He loved it when she insulted him. He liked how she'd get on a roll listing all his faults: he smoked too much, he drank too much, she wasn't in the mood for his obnoxious flirting when all she wanted was a serious conversation… He only did it so she would get upset. The flare of anger only darkened her naturally pink cheeks and lips even more so making her that much more attractive with her dark hair and eyes. Then he would just grab hold of her and kiss her and she would melt in his arms. He remembered telling her that he wouldn't kiss her anymore if she kept wearing lipstick. After that she never wore it again. It was odd the way they worked. Rebecca wanted to be wined and dined and he wouldn't but she still stuck around despite his lack of class. At times he wondered if she only stayed with him thinking he'd break down eventually; he was a challenge to her because he didn't always roll over and let her have her way. He was glad she hadn't given up… yet. She was the one person who saw beyond his rank. She wouldn't admit it but he knew she wouldn't marry him just because he outranked her in pay, the only reason she would give as to why she continued seeing him.
He mentally slapped himself back to the present. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about his personal life, though there was a chance he wouldn't have one anymore in a few minutes. He pulled a black ski mask over his head and quietly moved out of the brush. Staying low he heard footsteps and stopped. Not far from him he watched as a guard casually strolling by not very aware of his surroundings as he lit a cigarette. Havoc felt the instinctive reaction to want to light one of his own but ignored the craving. Lined up along the hill the bunker was dug into were several wood crates of supplies piled high and stretching out several feet. Once the guard passed and was far enough away not to hear him, he ran across the still dark floor of the valley, staying low and moving carefully until he reached the other side and ducked behind the long line of crates.
Looking carefully in the fading darkness he realized the crates held ammunition and rifles; something he didn't want to be around if the situation got out of control. There was Kimbley, the known maniac who liked to blow things up somewhere lurking around.
He knew he shouldn't be too far from the bunker doors. He had only gone about a hundred yards when he left Al. He moved along, the crates on his left, the hill to his right. He froze for a minute and looked up, scanning the hillside. It was high enough to see down onto the valley floor and provided enough cover with its rocky landscape of boulders and shrubs. He didn't see anything but he didn't expect to. If there was anyone up there they would be too well hidden. He grew nervous, hoping he hadn't been observed.
He waited, leaving himself in plain site to anyone on the hillside. Nothing. Maybe he was just being paranoid. But instinct told him it was not paranoia. It was likely he wasn't seen since it was still dark when he moved across the valley floor. If he was in charge of this operation he would put a sniper up there. He was going to have to keep an eye on Al. One more thing to add to the long list of worries he already had.
The hill jutted out in front of him a bit, blocking his view. He skirted around the corner of the last crate in line, another stacked on top of it, towering over Havoc. Down the way he could now see the doors to the bunker. He was going to have to hold his position. He had the perfect view to see Al when he would step out of the brush and stand in the open directly across from the bunker. But there was nothing else for him to hide behind that would bring him any closer. He was glad Edward insisted they work out together every other day. It always consisted of a mile run that always ended up in a race. He never won but he'd have to win this one.
He quietly reached for his holster and pulled out a gun. Reaching into a pocket on his thigh he pulled out a silencer and twisted on the barrel of the gun. There was no reason to let the Drachmans know where he was shooting from if it came to that. Then he waited.
He watched and listened. He could hear men starting to move around. A Drachman came to relieve the guard that had passed by him earlier. He could sense the sun rising behind him from the east but it hadn't made it over the hills yet. But it was light enough now; enough for Al to step out any minute.
It was perfect timing. The now off duty guard would be walking by Al in seconds. Havoc hoped Al had the sense that it would be much easier to make his presence known with a guard nearby. There was no need to worry. He readied himself when he saw Al, from this distance looking very much like Edward, step out and casually stroll towards the guard who was lighting another cigarette.
This is it, Al thought to himself. It's bright enough, there's a guard, so what are you waiting for?
But his silent urgings did nothing to move his legs. Damn it, just move!
The guard was getting closer and Al was losing his nerve. He could hear his heart hammering loudly. The guard took another step, then another and Al just wanted to take two steps backward, not forward. The guard stopped and Al felt something click into place. He watched as the Drachman lit a cigarette and he walked out with a confident grin on his face.
"Excuse me," he said casually. Damn, why do I sound so much like myself! He'll know I'm not Ed. "Can I bum one off of you?"
The guard looked up and reached into his pocket and froze, looking Al up and down expecting a fellow Drachman not this stranger. His lit cigarette fell from his mouth and he pulled his rifle off his shoulder and pointed it at Al.
"Who are you?" The Drachman demanded. "What are you doing here?"
"Who am I," Al said with the right mix of sounding insulted and amused. "I'm the Fullmetal Alchemist of course."
The Drachman narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Al hoped the guard knew a little something of Edward's reputation to take him seriously. The Drachman's eyes traveled down Al's right arm to his hand. The guard's eyes widened and he took a step back.
"All right," he said nervously, "put your hands up, slowly," he added his voice shaking. "Now, don't do anything funny or I'll shoot."
Al complied and the guard yelled back for the other Drachman soldier. The second guard came over and saw Al with his hands up. He was quick to recognize that it was the Fullmetal Alchemist; more so than his slower companion.
"I'll alert the General," he said taking off quickly.
"Don't leave me alone with him!" The first guard hissed after the second as he went rushing by but he was ignored. He turned his attention back to Al quickly.
Al laughed trying to make it sound sinister. "I'm not here for you," he said threateningly.
The guard swallowed and took another step back. This wasn't exactly what Al expected from a Drachman after the stories he told of their ruthless methods during the war. But the guard was young and perhaps heard a few stories of his own about the Fullmetal Alchemist. It was probably easier for them to take people by surprise then it was for them to deal with a surprise when the tables were turned on them.
"So how about that cigarette?" Al teased. He was supposed to be Edward and was starting to enjoy making the poor guard nervous.
As they waited Al used his time wisely shooting cold, hard glances that seemed to be doing the job he intended them to do. The guard looked like he was ready to faint at any moment. Then Al heard a couple of jeeps speeding towards him. He turned to watch them come to a stop twenty feet away, kicking up a cloud of dust. More Drachman soldiers hopped out and surrounded him, rifles aimed and ready. A very stern looking officer got out last. He stepped out, tugged at his jacket with a precise manner. Al figured that was the General the other guard said he would alert. The officer certainly looked like one the way his grey eyes narrowed in on Al with a look of disgust and anger.
"Line up," the General barked. The Drachman soldiers lined up in front of Al. Now he was nervous again. He wondered if he had just walked himself right into a firing squad.
"Hey," Al said hoping he sounded cocky. "I just came for my wife and son."
"I don't know what you're talking about," the General said smoothly.
"I know you're working with General Grumman and Russell Tringum and that psycho Kimbley. Russell kidnapped my wife and son and brought them here."
"You are here illegally Fullmetal Alchemist," the General said ignoring him, "so therefore I have the authority to shoot you. Ready…!" He yelled raising his arm.
He's just going to fire! Al thought in distress, willing his mind to work faster to figure out how to get out of this mess. The Drachmans in front of him took careful aim.
The General's arm dropped. "Fi…!"
Just as Al was about to drop to the ground to create a barrier, a new voice rang out loud and clear, interrupting the General. "Stop! He's mine!"
The Drachman General turned towards the bunker angrily. Looking over the heads of the Drachman soldiers Al could see across the way that the bunkers doors had been flung open.
"Tell your men to stand down, Dragomir," Kimbley growled coming out of the shadows of the bunker entrance dragging someone along with him.
Al gasped in surprise when he saw who Kimbley had by the arm. He had seen the picture but seeing the young boy in the flesh, looking so much like Edward… he was suddenly at a loss what to do or say. All he could think about was that Edward should be here to see his son, not him. This isn't how it should be. This wasn't right… then he remembered himself and he began to shake. He wasn't easily provoked but his temper could easily get out of hand like Edward's if he let it. He could feel it now and he welcomed it. Then he saw Russell step out after Kimbley pulling Elysia along. That was it. It wouldn't be long before his temper would nearly boil over and that's exactly what he wanted.