DA: Well, once again I'm absolutely dumbfounded at the response. Each review makes me so happy, like you guys have no idea. And for that, I thank you. Each and every one of you is amazing and I'm thankful that you've stuck with me for this.

...It sounds like I'm ending the story... Hahahahah. No, don't worry. I'm not. I still have a few chapters left in this story. Jeez, I try to sound grateful and come off as conclusive. Don't mind me. I just don't feel the greatest and I'm a little loopy.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately don't own the rights to FMA. The manga/anime/anything else related might have ended up 1000 times bloodier if I did.

Usual warnings apply! ENJOY!

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 8

"Alright men, you know what part each of you play in this plan, correct?" Mustang asked, glancing at each of them in turn. They were huddled behind the thick bushes that surrounded the clearing of the Cretan lair, their last stop before they stormed the place. "We're going in, retrieving Ed, and leaving. There are to be no injuries and, if you find yourself unable to manage that, then there's especially to be no deaths. Got it?" They nodded, expressions grave. The plan was more involved than that, of course. Once inside the building, they would split into two groups, Fuery, Falman, and Breda in one, and himself, Havoc, and Hawkeye in the other. The first group's objective was simple: plant charges to destroy the warehouse. The second group had the main objective of the mission, saving their lost subordinate. Mustang nodded in return, slipping on his gloves.

"Are we sure there's another exit, sir?" Hawkeye asked, her gun already held at ready. His fingers halted right before he snapped, his mind quickly scanning through the building layout in his mind. Falman had found these floor plans relatively quickly, and for that he was incredibly thankful. However, the lieutenant was right. If he blew open the door without checking for the other exit, they would be setting themselves up for disaster. Catching Havoc's eye, he nodded. The blond soldier leaned forward and slipped away into the darkness of the forest, curving around the area.

When the man returned, a terse nod his response to the Colonel's question before it was even asked. Roy sighed, the exit flashing in the map he'd visualized. "I'm positive lieutenant," he responded quietly, bringing his hand up once more to take aim. He had one shot. If he missed, there would be no going back. His fingers were tensed and poised, pressed against one another in a seemingly harmless fashion. But still he hesitated. What if the plan didn't work? Hell, what if Havoc was mistaken about what he heard? Then all of this effort would have been for nothing and they might very well be walking into a trap. With five other people to think about, Mustang had to ponder his actions very, very carefully.

Then, he heard it, a sound he'd only heard about before. Ed's scream. Ignoring the varying gasps of astonishment and concern from his group, he forced saliva down his suddenly tight throat. Havoc was right; there was no mistaking the scream, cracking with pubescence and pure agony. Closing his eyes, he turned away and snapped, feeling the flames shoot from his fingertips. It didn't matter that he no longer had perfect aim. This was going to end. Now.

FMAFMA

Ed woke to a burning pain, something sharp pressing into the skin of his back. Hot blood ran in thick streams down his side, soaking the waistband of his pants. Paper crinkled by his ear, but he lacked the energy to open his eyes and look. Everything was fuzzy, his hearing buzzing in and out as if the signal was weak. Even his thoughts wafted in and out incoherently.

The Brigadier General smiled as he watched his men lift the knife and press it somewhere else into the prisoner's lower back, his grin widening at the satisfying squelch as it penetrated the skin. Ed moaned, his head shifting against the tile. Good, the boy was conscious. The idiot needed to feel his full punishment caused by his impossible attitude. "Be careful, men," he ordered. "Everything needs to be exactly as drawn on that paper. There will be severe consequences if that is not accomplished."

The lieutenant with the blade continued on as if nothing had been said, sliding it along the exposed skin. The boy's cries of protest were growing, awareness returning quickly as pain dragged him quite unmercifully from the darkness. General Herbert motioned and the lieutenant pressed down, the knife digging deeper into the pale flesh. He recoiled as Ed arched, a rough scream tearing from his already raw throat. Weakened, he collapsed back onto the floor, coughing tiredly against the pain.

With another hand motion, the other soldiers jumped into action, pushing the alchemist's shoulders harshly into the floor. They winced internally at the sharp cry, tears tracing through the thin film of blood and grime coating the kid's face. The carver continued, the knife returning to its original position. Ed writhed weakly, unable to move much more than that due to the heavy hands restraining him. His thoughts refused to force themselves through the haze of pain and bloodloss, only a strong survival instinct shining prominently in his mind. He choked on sobs, the blade a line of fire in his back.

Boom.

The building shook with an explosion, the knife jerking upward, drawing yet another yelp from his lips. The Brigadier General's smile twitched into an angry scowl, his eyes narrowing dangerously. It seemed that they'd been discovered. "Continue men. Do not make a mistake! And do not take forever! It seems time has suddenly become a luxury which we no longer have." Blood was pooling under the teen, some spurting onto the lieutenant's uniform as the pace of the carving increased.

Edward panted harshly against the pain, not fully understanding his situation. His only comprehension was of the never-ending agony throbbing from everywhere and of the blood dripping unnaturally from his skin. A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped faintly from his mouth, thin and breaking. To think, the age's brightest alchemist had been reduced to a sobbing child due to mere pain. Another wave crashed over him as the weapon was ripped from his body.

Footsteps clacked nearby, more paper rustling from somewhere above him. "Good. Now I must take my leave. Make it look inconspicuous, but do not touch that mark. I don't want to risk them finding it if they manage to succeed." The boots moved away as Ed finally remembered how to move his eyelids, cracking open his golden eyes. He only saw the Brigadier General open the door and slam it shut behind him before they slipped shut again, his body being jerked upright while he hung limply between two soldiers.

FMAFMA

With Mustang leading the group, they sprinted through the thin, now smoky corridors of the warehouse, swiftly dealing with anyone who crossed their path. It seemed as if the soldiers were in complete disarray after Mustang's alchemy-fueled explosion, no one quite knowing what they were doing. Any that they met sloppily raised their guns, the weapons clattering clumsily in hands that normally were skilled in wielding it. So far, the plan was moving along well, but they were all secretly expecting the one thing that could ruin everything. The one obstacle that somehow always managed to appear and could destroy the mission, causing deaths that should be avoided.

Sprinting past a gunman, Roy dove into a stairwell, wincing internally at the gunfire that echoed as he passed. Some relief swelled within him as each of his men followed him, pausing as he did. "Alright. Fuery, Falman, you're with Breda. Hawkeye, Havoc, you're with me. You know your assigned goals. Good luck," he informed them swiftly, raising his right hand to his brow in a sharp salute. They all returned it, determination lining each of their expressions. Fuery checked his bag for the explosives and nodded at Breda, who returned the movement and then gave the order to move out. Their group marched off, heading downstairs to plant the bombs on the weak spots on the building's structure.

Sighing, the black-haired man gave no order, but began his trek up the stairs, knowing instinctively that his men would follow him. This was where they supposed Ed had been taken and he hoped to God that they were right. This building was far to large for them to be off the mark and if they were, it might cost Ed his life. Roy suppressed the responding shiver, a pair of soul-red eyes bouncing in his mind, somehow managing to be full of worry and fear despite not being human in nature.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, his heart plummeted, dropping like a rock into his stomach. The single hallway was lined with damned rooms and he knew that there was more paths adjacent to this one. Of course it would be fucking impossible to find one small alchemist in a warehouse this size and if the kid was in as bad shape as Mustang assumed he was, then there would be no help from his end. Steadying himself with a deep breath, he steeled himself to check every room. He was not going to leave without his goal, not after they'd gotten this far.

"You two," he addressed his small force, turning around. "Start checking every room. Call me instantly if you find anything." They saluted and ran off, a strange look in both of their gazes that he couldn't exactly place, though it was far stronger in Riza's gaze than Havoc's. He dismissed his thoughts rather quickly, his gloved hand closing around the cold steel of a door handle. Tugging the door open, he glanced inside, leaning through the doorway to gain a good idea of what occupied the room. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Dammit!

Slamming the door shut, he moved onto the next one, a sharp scowl creasing his face for every locked door and barren room. He could hear the clacks of doors closing somewhere down the hallway, quiet swears invading the otherwise quiet airspace. Havoc was starting to get frustrated, something he could sympathize with quite readily with, much to his disdain. His scowl deepened as he moved onto the next door, already making the deduction that the damned thing was empty. His accurate prediction only proved to fuel the fury burning loudly in his gut, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

His teeth were clenched behind lips that were firmly pressed together, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously. No soldiers had met them up here as of yet, a fact that unsettled him more than his lack of success, but if one were to come by, their flesh would fry. He angrily yanked the next door open, slamming it shut with more force than necessary at his discovery, rather lack thereof. "C'mon, Ed," he muttered under his breath, glancing up at the ceiling. "Give us a sign here."

Mustang's initial hope at discovering the boy's location was fading fast, slipping through the cracks deepened by failures. This place was too fucking big and Ed was small enough to be lost forever if the person in charge knew where to hide him. His head jerked up, a scream rattling the foundations of the floor. This one was hoarse and faltering, but forceful nonetheless. Hawkeye's head peeked out from behind a door, Havoc running up to him. "That way," he whispered, pointing down the hall.

And they ran. They had to find the room quickly, now that the memory of the general location was fresh in their mind. If this took any longer than necessary, they might as well give up. Near a curve in the hallway, they slowed, listening carefully to the sounds emanating from each room. It was another rough cry that gave the room away rather smaller noises.

FMAFMA

Roy burst through the doorway, his left hand primed to make fireworks. Upon entering, he froze, color leeching from his face. Hawkeye and Havoc ran in after him, gasps reaching his ears as their eyes fell on the scene that had been waiting for them.

Blood. Blood was everywhere, collecting on the floor in small puddles. It spattered the walls, tainted the air with its scent. A man stood near a wall, a whip flecked with scarlet clutched in his hand. Throwing them a sadistic grin, he brought it down, the snap of leather hitting flesh echoing around the small room. And that's when Roy's eyes fell on the boy curled on his side next to the wall, his head pressing against the brickwork.

Ed was all blood and bones, the starving edges pressing against skin that was clothed in nothing but scarlet for the most part. His eyes were scrunched shut, tear tracks carving through the grime on his cheeks. The normally golden hued hair was diluted with blood, turning a strange muddy color. A few strands clung to the gore spattered across the pale skin of the kid's face. The Colonel wanted to vomit, watching in paralyzing shock as the whip struck the boy's flesh. Ed didn't make a sound, just flinched harshly.

"ED!" he yelled, embarrassed only slightly by the amount of worry evident through his tone. To everyone's surprise, golden eyes cracked open at his cry, dazed with pain and muddled with confusion. Oh God, he was conscious. The thought sent a chill down his spine, queasiness clenching in his stomach. Pushing the feeling aside, he focused on all the blood. If it was all his… He didn't even want to think about it. Cracked lips mouthed his title, recognition lighting that half-dead gaze. The whip cracked down again, striking against the boy's mostly bare back. The eyes closed sharply, the skin around them crinkling together, his mouth opening in a mostly silent, hoarse cry. Roy's heart clenched, his teeth grinding together.

Anger roared in him, his fingers rubbing together in response. How dare these barbarians lay their hands on his subordinate! "ENOUGH!" he demanded before he even realized he'd decided to speak. The soldier jerked his head up, shocked that he'd spoken too. The black-haired man lifted his hand, poised to end the man's life, when the door slammed shut behind him. He jumped, lowering his arm slightly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Colonel," a new voice, not one he recognized, advised slowly, smooth and calm. Without even looking, Mustang could recognize the quick, manipulative tone of a high ranking officer. "After all, you want the boy to live right? Any false moves from you and I end his life. You got that?" He froze, listening at the sounds of controlled footsteps as the man approached. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it painfully. He didn't dare look back, keeping his gaze leveled at the wall opposite him.

"What do you want?" the Colonel whispered through numb lips. A laugh echoed through the room, melding with the sound of priming guns that were now leveled at his group. Shit. This wasn't good. At all. He stiffened at metal striking the floor, fully loaded guns landing by his feet. Havoc was swearing under his breath, but loudly enough for his superior officer to hear him. Mustang was sure that this situation brought back bad memories, though at least there wasn't an arm around the man's throat. Yet. Judging by Fullmetal's condition, these people (and he used the term loosely) were not opposed to inflicting severe damage on other people, despite age or gender. Another thought nearly stopped him cold. Hawkeye. Swallowing, he carefully cleaned all signs of fear from his expression, keeping his posture straight.

"What I want, Colonel Mustang." The addressed man decided that he didn't like the way that this high ranking officer said his name. "Is information, and, if we can get that far, maybe your cooperation. You are an alchemist, correct?" He nodded stiffly, the rough glove encompassing his hand crinkling and sparking as he clenched his fist. "Good. Already you're more cooperative than the runt. He refused to even tell me his name. And he told me that I had you to thank for his lack of respect to men of superior rank." Roy's lips twitched in minor amusement, imagining the things that must have flown from Ed's lips. If it was anything like the boy's reports, then it was probably sarcastic as hell. Havoc had absolutely no qualms about expressing his amusement, snorting loudly.

"Fullmetal always has been a lot to handle. You just have to know how to do so." The man starts to laugh, releasing Mustang's shoulder. Footsteps echoed around the tense room as he walked around to everybody's line of sight. Roy recognized the markings of a Brigadier General the moment his gaze raked over the newcomer's uniform and glanced at his face. The man was thin and freshly shaven, his greying hair combed back neatly. His eyes were a deceptive dark brown, gleaming with pleasure at the situation.

"Don't I know that, Colonel Mustang. After all, I've had the pleasure of spending a majority of my time with him after his capture. However, I've never been able to quite master how his head works, maybe you can help me gain his cooperation." Mustang's throat tightened to prevent any noise from escaping as the Brigadier General crouched down next to his subordinate, grabbing Ed's face harshly. They boy's eyes snapped open, fearful recognition flashing in his deep golden hue. His gaze slid from the person holding him to Roy, silently pleading for his commanding officer to put a stop to this in a way Roy'd never seen before from him.

"You still haven't answered my question, General, at least, not outright. What do you want from us?" The Cretan released the blond, glancing with disgust at the blood now staining his fingers.

"We require information on your Fuhrer, Mustang. It was information this runt was unwilling, or unable as he claimed, to provide." Without much thought, he slammed a polished boot into Ed's chest, slamming him against the wall. The alchemist choked, coughing harshly against the pain. Blood spilled from his lips, splattering onto the floor in front of him. Mustang's lips tightened, worry quickly replacing anger. "I want to know where he is, where he lives, and what he plans for our country. If you cannot provide such simple information, this little bastard will reap the consequences."

The Colonel remained silent, his gaze locked with Ed's. The kid's glazed over eyes were wide and panicked and, for someone who was used to seeing them so strong and determined, it physically pained him to see Ed in such a way. "So, Colonel. Will you release the information I know that you must have?" The black-haired man knew what his answer must be, bile splashing against the back of his throat at what the resulting consequences would be.

"I'm afraid I cannot, General. Information regarding our Fuhrer is always kept closely guarded and only those with the rank of Brigadier General may have access to it. As you know, I am only a Colonel and therefore am not privy to any information about Fuhrer Bradley." Though he was speaking to their captor, his eyes never left his injured subordinate. Had his lips twitched upward at his words? The tension in the room increased and one could almost feel the fury rising in the Brigadier General.

"Funny, Colonel. The runt gave a similar response, though not as eloquently worded as yours. Do you Amestrians train your recruits the same way?" The Cretan pulled something from his belt with deliberate slowness, allowing the screeching of metal on metal fill the small room. "Now, I'm going to ask you one more time, Mustang. Tell me what you know about the Fuhrer!" The man's voice was growing in volume, naked anger boiling plainly under his words.

"My response is the same." With an enraged roar, the Brigadier General moved quickly, the blade penetrating Ed with impressive force, sliding neatly into the spot just under the boy's ribcage. The blond let out a strangled cry, noticeable tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Gold met onyx, pleading silently without thought for release from this pain. As the knife was ripped from his flesh, another tortured cry left his throat.

With a surprising strength, Mustang's anger returned, rising instantly from simple rage to an insane fury. It filled his being, his vision cloaking in a screen of scarlet. His hands shook, his face pale. Dark eyes narrowed dangerously, lips spreading to reveal his clenched teeth. Ed's eyes fell shut, the unfocused gaze now hidden behind pale and dirty eyelids. And that was all it took for Roy to snap. Literally.

The Brigadier General became the fuel for a miniature explosion, the man not even having the time to scream before he died. The flames reduced, a roasted body falling to the floor. With one more snap, he'd been reduced to a charcoal skeleton, a burnt ash smearing on the tile. Mustang paid the corpse no mind, turning on his heel to deal with the soldiers holding his men captive. They ran, fear evident on each of their faces. The heat of the remaining flames brushed against his skin as he wheeled back around, ignoring the sparks that passed in front of his face.

Rushing to Ed's side, he knelt down in the growing puddle of blood, carefully turning the boy onto his back. Oh, God... He drew his gaze over the injured form, color fading from his features. Both automail limbs were a complete disaster area, crushed and peeled apart.

Roy gently pulled Ed into his arms, his face pale and tight with worry. Taking another sweep of the young form, he quickly analyzed the boy's condition. His knee was twisted and swollen, looking awkward in the leather pants that the blond was far too fond of. The flesh arm was in similar shape, though the skin was torn along the break of his forearm, blood leaking sluggishly through the opening. And he was covered in the thick liquid, scarlet soaking his skin, causing his clothes and hair to plaster to the surface. Mustang was unsure of how to move Ed for to do it wrong would only cause more damage. The younger alchemist didn't move as Roy ghosted hands over him, remaining limp and prone on the hard floor. The older man cursed under his breath, finding more damage than anybody could quickly patch up. This was all his fault, as usual. He had taken far too long in finding the boy. "Dammit!" he swore, hands curling into tight fists. Someone came up behind him and couched, a soft whistle breezing by his ear.

"That knee does not look good," Havoc whispered. "We're going to have to move it carefully."

"We shouldn't move him at all," the Colonel muttered, his voice touched with worry. Ed made a soft, breathy noise, head shifting slightly. Mustang rested a hand on the boy's arm, withdrawing as he cringed away from the man's touch. Havoc snorted quietly behind him, though the sound lacked any real amusement.

"No," the blond agreed. "We really shouldn't. But beggars can't be choosers in a situation like this. Those bombs are gonna go off any min-" The floor shook as an explosion rocked the building, dust and debris scattering everywhere.

"Time's up!" Roy yelled, coughing out dust from the resulting haze. He glanced back at his 2nd lieutenant, scowling. "Is there anything to brace his knee?" The man shook his head, his blue eyes sharp and urgent.

"No time for that boss. We gotta move him now and hope for the best." The black-haired man nodded sharply, already moving to lift the boy. Looping his arms around Ed's shoulders and under his knees, he carefully lifted the blond to his chest. Roy had to hand it to the kid; he had one helluva pain threshold. After making sure that his cargo was steady, his onyx eyes lifted to his small group, landing first on Havoc and eventually coming to a rest on Hawkeye.

"Alright. Let's move! Group 2 should meet us on the way." As the Hawkeye followed Mustang obediently out the door, Havoc hesitated, blue eyes scanning the room once more. A flash of white in the darkness caught his attention, mostly concealed. Cautiously moving towards it, he curled his finger around his pistol's trigger, wary of what he might find. Boots splashing in the pools of blood scattered on the floor, he crouched down next to the source of the color. A small sheet of paper was sinking into a rather large puddle of gore, the red leeching up into the purity of white. Placing his gun back into its holster at his hip, he pulled the sopping paper from its confinement, pinching the corner with glove clad fingers.

The small segment of the sheet that was still white bore a mark that probably would have extended across the entire page had it not been corrupted. The mark appeared to be gibberish, but he figured that Mustang would want to see it later, when he wasn't so panicked. So he quickly, and carefully, folded up the paper and slid it into his pocket, straightening and running off to catch up with his fellow soldiers when he was done.

DA: Well then, another chapter done. The rescue will also be extending to next chapter, obviously. Haha. Sorry it's not so exciting. I tried, but I'm not very clever with plans. I'm very blunt if you couldn't tell and so my version of a plan is busting in and blowing everything to hell. XD

Anyways, Welcome to all you new readers, I hope you've enjoyed and plan to stay for the remainder of this story. And for you returning readers, I know a few of you wanted me to update earlier, but if I did, I would throw off my updating schedule and then I wouldn't feel I would have to stick to my schedule anymore (not like I really do anyway but shush).

Well, I'm off to practice my makeup for my Winry cosplay! I just bought my wig and I'm SUPER excited for Connecticon this year! Hehe. If any of you are going, feel free to try to find me! I'd LOVE to meet some of my fans in person! But in the meantime, tell me what you think of this chapter and I'll see you all next week!

May your hearts stay strong,

DarkAngel555