Edward was focusing on keeping the full extent of his weight on top of the imposter. His automail keeping its usual iron grip on the man's wrist, while he took off the glove off his flesh hand with his teeth. Once the glove was off, he ran his fingers along the man's neck. There had to be some seam for the man's realistic mask. There was no way in hell this was really Bennet. The man was a prick, but loyal to Mustang. Edward was sure that if their hands had connected, there would have been a very nasty surprise waiting for either of them.

The possibility of it being Envy entered his mind, but he doubted that the homunculi would have been so subtle with his intention to kill. The creature normally enjoyed the drama of it all, especially as he would be framing someone else at the same time.

Edward bent forward and frowned as he noticed something etched into the skin behind the imposter's ear. In the moment he leaned forward, the fake Bennet whipped his head back suddenly, smacking Ed right on the nose.

Ed reared back at the sudden pain and surprise; he suddenly lost his advantage over the larger man. The man tossed him off of his back easily. Ed rolled away from the man, using the momentum given to him with the action to put some distance between them. The man was quickly lunging for him, but Ed hadn't recovered yet. It was only the flash of fire between them that saved him in the end.

"Who are you?" Mustang demanded, hand raised to snap.

The fake grunted, but did not answer the question; instead he pulled out a gun and aimed at Mustang. Mustang snapped his fingers again, aiming to burn his opponent's hands. The fake was quick, dodging to the side while firing several shots at Mustang. Mustang was forced to run, looking for whatever cover he could find around the office. Edward clapped his hands and made some cover for his commander to dive behind.

This caused the gunman to aim at Edward who was only just getting to his feet. Several shots from the door way however, saved Edward as the man dodged, throwing his aim off at the last moment.

"Get out of there, Fullmetal!" Ed heard Mustang yell from behind his blockade.

Edward didn't need telling twice. He was already out of breath and the alchemy had made him feel lightheaded. He couldn't win this fight. Ed ran towards the blockade he had made when a series of bullets cut him off, causing him to quickly change direction and double back. Instead he dove behind Mustang's desk. It didn't offer the best protection as bullets aimed in his direction came flying through the wood.

"Shit!" He yelled as he ran from behind the desk.

Edward drew his sword from his belt and ran towards his opponent. He couldn't run forever and there was a high chance he would be unable to keep up this game if he continued to run.

"Run away, idiot!" He heard Mustang yelling at him.

He ignored him. The fake was taken aback by his change in tactics, causing him run backwards. His aim was off with the action, the bullets coming close, but missing by an inch or so. Edward slashed across with his sword, causing the man to stumble. Edward continued up with his advance, following with a lower slash in the opposite direction to his first attack, catching the inside of the man's leg.

A sharp cry came from the man, especially as the sound of a gun going off one last time resonated around the room. The man went down with a mighty crash. Ed followed him down, his knees hitting the floor. Half of it was the sheer exhaustion of all that had happened in the last few minutes, the other half was with purpose. Ed slapped his hands together before slamming them to the ground. The floor moved beneath their intruder, binding him tightly where he had fallen. His gun, thankfully, had fallen just out of his reach when he hit the floor.

Ed panted, his gaze fixed on the ground. His stomach was currently doing all sorts of uncomfortable movements on him. Nausea hit him hard, forcing him to close his eyes. Fuck, he was tired and dizzy. His body just didn't want to stay upright as he started to slump off to the right with the weight of his automail.

Hands touched him, grabbing him by the shoulders. He whimpered slightly at the pain it seemed to awaken. Everything hurt. Ed's eyes snapped open as a hand was pressed to his forehead. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his mind. Someone was talking around him. Havoc? Mustang?

Ed forced his head up to see Havoc kneeling in front of him.

"Boss?" Ed heard Havoc address him.

"Bin," Ed rasped as a rather strong wave of nausea rolled through him.

"What?" Havoc frowned.

"Bin," Ed repeated louder before bringing his flesh hand to his mouth to cover it.

He didn't want to be sick. That would mean sacrificing all that delicious food Breda had brought. It had tasted so good and he doubted it would taste as nice a sound time round. Ed tried forcing the bile back down his throat. For a second he thought he was safe, and then suddenly it came up without mercy. His hand stayed in the way, trying to stop himself from making a mess, but it was leaking out through his fingers. The vile taste filled his mouth, fuelling his urge to be sick.

Someone grabbed his wrist and forced it away from his mouth. He started vomiting uncontrollably. It went on for large stretch of time that Ed couldn't define. There were hands rubbing his back, others holding him up, and another holding his hair back as he vomited into the bin that someone held in front of his face. When it was done and his stomach had nothing left to offer, he started their dry heaving on the floor.

A wet cloth touched his face, cleaning him up. It startled him and he tried to pull away, but the many hands kept him still. A firm grip on his jaw forced his face up for cleaning. It was Hawkeye.

"What about…" Ed started, but trailed off when he felt hands pulling him up to his feet.

His feet didn't take his weight, but the body on either side of him did all the work. Without what seemed to be too much effort, Ed found himself lying down on the couch.

"He had something…" Ed tried again, worried someone might still get hurt. "Check his hands. His wrists. And an array… Behind his ear."

"We've got it, Fullmetal," Mustang said firmly. "Rest."