A/N: Hello you wonderful readers! Here is the next chapter you have possibly been waiting for?
Fort Briggs
Barracks F
1530 Hours
"No! No! Come on man! Stay with me!"
"I can't go on! Leave me!"
"NOOO!"
A handful of cards fell to the table. "Godammit! Why are you folding this early!"
"They're too good! I'm not losing anymore money today! Take my fifty and go! I'm outta here!" Corporal Akachi threw a handful of cenz at private Peña and stormed out of the barracks in disgust. Peña chuckled as he collected his winnings.
"Ah, he'll be back. He can't resist trying to win against me. Now, Ko, you wanted to deal in?" Private First Class Ko sat down, eager to play. Peña started dealing him in, then looked up at Dawes.
"Hey, sergeant. You wanna play?" Dawes shook his head ruefully.
"You know it's against regulations. I'm hanging my ass out over a fire as it is." He quickly peeked around the corner to make sure no officers were coming to break up the fun. "I have to go babysit the new people. Make sure you don't get caught." He waved goodbye, but the soldiers were too caught up in their game to notice.
Dawes strolled down the corridor, rifle on his shoulder. After the nearly disastrous training exercise, he was taking some time off from active duty. As a result, however, he got stuck with looking after the new people from Central.
"Dammit. Babysitting duty. These people probably don't know the first thing about Briggs life. What was the guy's name again? Eduard? Edgar? Fuck it, I thought I had the assignment sheet. Ah, I'll just ask." He made his way through the concrete corridors.
The condensation from the pipes dripped onto the floor, creating small puddles where it collected. Even inside Briggs the temperatures were never far above 16 degrees Celsius. His breath fogged in the air.
"Hey Dawes! Heading out?" His head came up from his musings and focused on sergeant Chikelu.
"Yeah. I've got babysitting duty for the newbies. Know where they are?"
"I think they're either on icicle duty or they're in the B Wing. Careful out there, the blizzard moved in a few hours ago. They say it gonna be parked over us for at least three weeks. Godammit, and I was just about to go on leave! Back to those Xingese comics, I guess."
After climbing a few flights of stairs and making it through a few climate-control rooms, he opened the outer door of the fortress.
A pile of snow fell from the door as a blast of frigid air greeted him. Dawes squinted against the blizzard, which, despite only having reached Fort Briggs five hours ago, was nearly at white-out level by now. He fumbled with his goggles pulling them down over his eyes and casting the world into a pinkish-peachish lighting. He pulled his hood on and pulled up a face mask, two not really regulation items but no one questioned it as almost everyone did it.
One of the advantages of looking like a faceless mook was being able to walk through the blizzard without his skin peeling off. Even so, visibility couldn't be more than 3 feet. Dawes would have a better chance of walking into his target than seeing him.
"Why does the general have them out here, anyways?! The wind will blow the icicles off before they even get to them!" Even the veteran Briggs trooper was finding it almost impossible to move across the concrete walkway. He doubted his charges were even outside. They probably took one look at the conditions, then went back into their barracks to huddle together, drink whiskey and tell stories next to a warm fire. At least there was one consolation. If he couldn't see much farther than arm's length, there was no way the Drachmans would be attacking any time soon, even after the incident in Central. He still wasn't clear on what had happened down there, anyways. He just knew that it involved the country to the north in some way. They never told the grunts anything.
"Dammit!" There was no way he would find them here. He grabbed the railing, thankful for the thick cloth gloves that kept his hands from freezing to the metal. Hand over hand, he pulled himself against the wind, all the way over to the door to B Wing. He pulled it open and practically fell through to the warmth and light inside, collapsing in a pile of snow, rifle, clothes and gasping.
"Hey! Close the door, jerkass! You're letting all the heat out!"
"Brother! Don't be so mean, he just came in from that blizzard outside!"
Dawes glared in the general direction of the voices, but pulled himself to his feet and closed the door. "What were you doing out there anyways?"
Dawes, busy dusting his clothes off, didn't look up at the person. "Oh, you know, I was just taking a nice stroll in our fine weather, admiring the scenery. What have you done today?"
"Hah, very funny. Now, what were you doing, actually?" Dawes finished brushing off his clothes and looked up. Then he did a double take and stared. In front of him stood a short, blond haired teenager with an automail arm and a massive suit of… armor? Wearing an… apron?
"Ah, you must be one of the new people. Sorry about that. Do you know where I can find…" Wrenching his eyes away from the armor, Dawes fumbled with his pockets and finally found the assignment papers. "Edward Elric? Hm, the Fullmetal Alchemist is here?"
The teenager smirked and closed his eyes in a self-satisfied sort of way. "Well, you're in luck. He's right in front of you."
Edward held out his hand to shake. When he didn't feel anything, he opened his eyes to see the stranger standing in front of Alphonse. "So you're the Fullmetal Alchemist. I have to admit, I didn't think they meant that literally. I mean, no offense but…" He looked like he was at a loss for words, gesturing at Alphonse's body.
Alphonse held up his hands, sweatdropping in anticipation of Edward's rage. "Ah, I'm sorry, I'm not the Fullmetal Alchemist. My brother Edwards is." Dawes raised an eyebrow glanced over at Edward, then looked back at Alphonse.
"The short one?"
Time stood still for a moment. The entire world seemed to hold its collective breath as Ed processed the statement, smile still on his face. Alphonse cringed internally and silently counted down. Three… two… one…
"WHAATT?!" Edward lunged towards the soldier, fully intent on giving his head a ventilation hole free of charge.
Dawes turned in surprise as the teenager sprang at him. One metal arm swung around to bash his head in. Dawes' experience and training kicked in and he reacted quickly, stepping into the attack and guiding the punch to the side. He then swept his feet out from under him and flipped the midget onto his back.
"Agh!" Edward gasped as air evacuated his lungs. "Wha… what?"
"Are you sure he's the one?" He twisted his head around to see the man still standing there, talking to Alphonse as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"Yeah… sorry about that. He's sensitive about his, um, stature."
"Yes, I can tell. Well, anyways, I'm supposed to be your guide around these parts so… nice to meet you?" Alphonse sagged in relief that the man didn't resent Edward.
"Nice to meet you too, Mr…. uh, sorry, I didn't quite catch your name." Dawes smiled and held out his hand, ignoring a spluttering, indignant Edward.
"Sergeant Anthony Dawes, at your service."
Facility Gamma
Amestris-Drachma Border Region
1800 Hours
Vikentiy checked into Armory A, handing his ID to the quartermaster through the steel mesh. In return, the man opened the sliding metal door, usually locked from the inside.
He walked in and the door closed behind him. A quick survey found where the spare ammo was kept. Vikentiy found the .30-06 locker and pulled it open. He grabbed six fresh magazines and loose ammo to refill those already on him.
On his way out a few grenades went into his pack, as did a breaching charge and a submachine gun. He recorded the items on a form and handed it to the quartermaster, who then let him out of the armory.
He'd planned this out in the barracks the night before. It was more complicated and hinged on luck more than he liked, but there was little choice. This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, after all.
He walked down the hall, towards the pumping room where he knew almost no one was at the moment. It was lunch time, after all. Only the unfortunate and unfavored got pump room duty at this time. He'd eaten his food quickly to get this opportunity, telling everyone he had to collect fresh ammo. Which was true. The quartermaster could support that alibi.
His steps echoed off the concrete walls. He could faintly hear the laughter and talking coming from the cafeteria. The others would most likely be just starting to eat their food right now. The portions were big, and there was plenty of chatter to go around before eating actually began. He licked his lips at the memory of shchi, kotlety, potatoes and coffee. The pay might be shitty, the duty miserable, but the army made sure to feed its soldiers well.
He took a quick look around the immediate area, checking that no one else had finished early. Vikentiy then twisted open the locking wheel on the pump room door, trusting the horrendous noise inside the room to keep anyone from noticing him. Much was riding on his alibi being airtight. He winced as the hinges squeaked, but nobody came to investigate. He pulled up a face mask to keep the smell away.
"Alright. There should be at least one or two people in here. Probably in the control booth and the central junction, if anywhere." He didn't know why he was whispering. Nobody would have heard him even if he shouted. People needed radios and headphones to communicate when all the machinery was running.
He threaded his way through the massive pumps and pipes, careful to avoid the wet spots on the floor. Sloppy maintenance, he thought, though he had no right to be criticizing others for dereliction of duty.
Like most Drachman army installations, the directions were clearly marked. The control booth would be up that ladder and left across that catwalk. Now all he had to do was to get there unseen and-
"Hey! What are you doing here?" And, like most plans, his went down the drains, through the sewers, and out to the ocean, where it was promptly chewed up by sharks and became fertilizer.
Vikentiy turned to a time-honored technique passed down throughout the ages, a technique renowned for its elegance and efficacy. He began to spout bullshit as fast as possible while getting closer to the other guy.
"Oh, hi, I was sent to figure out why the hot water to bathroom A is turned off." He adopted a thick accent. "My buddies got a surprise when the water suddenly turned cold, and they were kind of pissed. I managed to talk them down, but they really want hot showers again. So, could you please check?"
The soldier started backing up defensively. "What? What are you talking about? The water flow hasn't been cut off. I checked yesterday! You're not making sense!" He raised his hands in an unconscious attempt to ward Vikentiy off.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I just want to check the pipes, see if there isn't a blockage or something. I don't know how these things work."
"You know I'm not allowed to do that! You aren't even supposed to be in here!"
He held his hands up, making himself seem less threatening. "Just show me the stuff, and I'll be gone. I know you don't even want to be in here. What'd you do to get stuck here?"
"Th-that doesn't matter!"
"Your CO must be a huge dick, huh? I sympathize with you. You probably don't even want to take orders from him, huh?"
That seemed to sway the soldier, who really just wanted this strange guy spouting nonsense to be gone. He had enough to deal with already, what with being stuck in the pump room for failing uniform inspection.
"Alright man, this way. But just this once! And then get the hell out of here. I have a job to do." He turned and beckoned for Vikentiy to follow him. They made their way through another complicated series of pipes before coming to a row of gauges and dials. "See? I told you nothing was-"
He never finished that sentence. Having one's head slammed into a thick piece of metal tends to do that to sentences. Vikentiy checked to be sure that the guy wasn't too hurt. It wouldn't do if he couldn't tell everybody about the masked man who'd knocked him out.
He walked out of the pump room, making sure nobody was around. Lunch was still going on, so there probably wouldn't be anybody. One can never be too sure, though.
All there was to do now was to head back to the barracks and act casual. And wait. Shouldn't be too hard, right?
Fort Briggs
Amestris-Drachma Border
2000 Hours
"The R&D department wants more funding? Tell them as soon as they produce results that I can show to the high council, I can get them funding. Until then my hands are tied and they aren't getting jackshit." General Armstrong slammed down the phone and rubbed her temples. Her R&D team was brilliant, but they didn't understand anything about military funding protocols.
"Sir, we have the latest report from our scout teams. They reported increased activity at one of the Drachman border outposts before getting cut off by the storm." The soldier handed her the folder, then stood stiffly.
"Dismissed." He saluted, then spun on his heel and marched out of the room, closing the door behind him. Armstrong growled and tossed the report to the side. Increased activity meant an increased alert level here in the fortress, mandated by regulations. It would also eat up money like a Xingese immigrant. "When I made general, I didn't anticipate financial concerns to be at the top of my list."
Fort Briggs ran on a shoestring. It wasn't apparent, but the bean counters kept slashing the budget to the bare minimum. With the fort so good at keeping out threats, why did it need so much money?
Armstrong knew the true cost. There were gaps in the defenses everywhere. Maintenance was lacking in several areas. Research had ground to a halt. That last training exercise ate up the last of the discretionary spending budget this year. Based on what her contacts were telling her, all that spare money was being routed to Central, probably to pad the wallets of those incompetents on the high council.
Still, she still had her veteran core of hardened soldiers. They would be able to take up the slack from the relatively untrained new soldiers. That is, until, she managed to threaten the high council into providing more money.
Facility Gamma
Amestris Drachma Border
1930 Hours
The facility was in lockdown. A soldier had been found lying unconscious in the pumping room. When he was woken up, he told a tale of being attacked by a man wearing a mask with a thick accent. Two minutes later the facility was going into full alert.
"Move, sergeant!" Vikentiy picked up the pace, running along with two other men. They rounded several corners, running towards their muster areas, when Vikentiy "tripped".
"Ah, shit!" He tumbled to the floor. The two others tried to help him, but he waved them off. "I'll be fine, go, go!" They nodded and ran off. Vikentiy smirked. Just as planned.
He got up and ran down the corridor, but took a left instead of going straight to his station. Soon he came upon a locked steel door. He quickly defeated it with the keys in his possession. Of course, nobody was around to see him do it. They were all doing their duty, getting to their positions. He was too, just with a small detour.
Inside the room, he looked down on the battered, burned, barely breathing woman sprawled out on the floor. For a moment, he contemplated his knife. It would be so easy just to slit her wrist or throat, let the others think she cut herself by accident.
She turned her head to look at him, staring with uncaring eyes. She was beyond anything like caring. "You spared me. I spare you."
With a clang, the lock fell to the floor. He pulled back the door, and left a bottle of water and a pistol next to her. "Find your own ride home."
A/N: And cut! Remember to leave a follow, fave, or review! Tell me why you read my stories! Thank you for reading and let me know what I can do to improve!
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