Unhelpful things to say in a crisis:

Alphonse understood that his bi- older brother was tired, especially considering what he had done in Youswell, but to sleep through a hijacking? That took considerable skill, as well as a complete lack of any sort of sense of self-preservation.

He cast a look at Edward, still sprawled out over the bench, mouth wide open in mid-snore, and was that a string of drool at one corner? Oh well; at least his stomach was fully covered, for once.

The terrorists had swarmed into the carriage about ten minutes previously, at one o'clock on the dot, waving around their guns and shouting at everyone. Ed had not even twitched. It was not this, however, that had caused Al to seriously question any remaining faith he had in humanity's collective intelligence. Oh, no. That prize had to go to the businessman who, at their impressive entrance stood up and shouted at them.

"Look. I know you're a hijacker, but I ordered a vegetarian meal half an hour ago!" he blustered.

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It was the mission in the South, the one that had started off with Ed almost killing Mustang due to a badly thought-out pep talk on the platform. The team were holed up behind a hastily-constructed barricade that owed its existence to Edward's skill with alchemic reactions.

Hawkeye reloaded her gun, propping her knee up on the firestep and pushing the nose out under the hinged flap, aiming carefully at the rebels. It was times like these that she really felt grateful for the versatility of the State Alchemists, even if it was rather tastelessly decorated with a wide selection of gargoyles, skulls and whatever else Ed felt was 'cool' in the stage he was currently going through.

She pulled her gun back as trails of energy flared along the barricade. Once they had completed whatever it was he had chosen to alter, she looked up and down the tightly-packed earth walls. Nothing she could see.

She risked a glance out of the aiming hole. The pit hadn't changed either; still as deep as it was when Ed had first pulled the dirt out to make the protective wall.

Hawkeye ducked back as the fire redoubled, still wondering what, exactly, it was that Ed had changed.

And then they started throwing hand grenades.

"Falman!" the addressed man snapped a salute. "What happened? What're the chances of success?"

"Fairly high, sir," he replied. "But statistically speaking, of course, in these circumstances, most of us will die."

Hawkeye groaned. His memory was astounding – it was the reason he had been selected for this team – but sometimes she wished Ro- Mustang had chosen another sharpshooter, someone she could relate to without the depressing statements he made every so often.

Mustang's estimation of taking ten days to solve it turned out, in the end, to be a little optimistic. It was not for another two weeks that Hawkeye could see what it was Ed had done to the wall that had, eventually, become a rather cushy little base for the six of them. She walked around to the front, relishing the lack of noise, and stood in disbelief.

"Really, Ed? Really?"

A great number of insults covered the face of the wall, picked out in rock bulging at least two inches out from the flat surface. She did have to admit that most of them were very imaginative, especially the ones questioning the parentage and intelligence of the rebels, but she did have to wonder who had taught him the more… colourful phrases on the wall.

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Ed cursed under his breath as he leaped over a table.

Honestly, of all the places to get attacked!

Did no-one respect the sacred halls of libraries any more?

He slid under a chair and joined his younger brother, who shot a long-suffering stare at him. It wasn't like he went out and looked for trouble. Well, not since the time when he took down that mafia-wannabe group in that little town. Or after he investigated the alarmingly high accident rate in that village – Dirtstream or something – and ended up almost being killed by the local Neighbourhood Watch who were killing off whoever upset the 'perfection' of the village. Or – yeah, OK. He pretty much went out looking for trouble wherever he went.

"Any ideas, Al?"

He pulled out his stick of chalk and transmuted a pretty neat trap from a few scraps lying around.

"Okay, I'll lure them in. You -"

"Get ready to set it off. I know, Brother."

Yeah, it didn't really work out the way either of them expected. As they fled for their lives, Ed opened the book they had originally come in to check out.

"You know what, Al? I think this Fourteenth century text adequately sums up what I want to say."

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His staff had been split up and Riza was, effectively, a hostage of the homunculus Fuhrer. Mustang felt he had the right to whinge a little.

"Oh, I know, Colonel! Why don't we get the military council involved?!" he – very badly – mimicked General Hawkeye. "What could possibly go wrong with that?" he also very conveniently 'forgot' that it hadn't been the older man's idea to get the group involved, but had just been the result of the latest in a run of bad luck.

Still, no matter how childish it seemed, he had a right to whinge at a selected scapegoat who was half a country away.

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This was not a time for smartass quips. It was not a time of functioning brain cells. There was no chance for a swift and witty put-down.

Of course, this was no ordinary foe, oh no. They were facing an incredibly annoyed First Lieutenant Hawkeye who, it seemed, didn't like having her 'babies' messed with.

"AAAAAAAAAAGH!" Ed dived for cover.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Transmute my guns back to normal and nobody gets hurt!"

"If you give me complete immunity for whatever I may or may not do to Colonel Bastard in the next three months, I'll hand over the ringleaders!"

"Done." The woman's voice was lowered to an almost feral snarl. Hmm, seemed like her meltdown button was her weaponry. Who would've guessed?

Anyway, one thing Ed knew for certain was that he was never taking a dare from Havoc again, especially after having dared the older man to flush all cigarettes on his person down the toilet.

Did anyone notice the rather blatant Hot Fuzz reference? No?