Convergence Chapter 8: Seven, a fullmetal alchemist fanfic

CHAPTER WARNING: Some crude language, homophobia and sexism (including sexual harassment). Trigger Warning: Mentions of the sex trade including mentions of underage sex workers. Nothing graphic.

Amestris, Continental Calendar, July 13, 1919 — Late Evening

Pitt couldn't help but raise an incredulous eyebrow as he watched the scene unfolding before him.

On one side of the room, Wendy laid on the bed, immersed in deep slumber. Russell dutifully sat next to her, but unlike those other times, he looked distraught. The scene wasn't remarkable if taken at face value since he knew Russell had a tendency to freak out for the stupidest of things, however, this time around, the idiot had every right to react this way. On the other side of the room, his Commanding Officer, the revered Hero of Ishval, was sitting pretty on a vanity chair. The slit of his short dress exposed an indecent amount of flesh as he leaned closer to the vanity mirror to apply mascara to his eyelashes.

Pitt let out an exasperated sigh. "Dressing in drag...that was your genius plan?" Brigadier General Mustang was one lucky bastard. If he would've caught wind of Mustang's "genius plan", he would've left Roy and Russell to fend for themselves.

Roy lowered his hand and directed his attention to Pitt.

"Do you have a problem with it?" he retorted, his good eye narrowing down at him.

Pitt met the Brigadier General's glare with one of his own and told him, "Quite frankly, I don't give a shit about your weird inclinations."

"Pitt's right, sir," Russell chimed in.

Pitt turned to Russell who was looking intently back at him. Russell looked from him to his Commanding Officer, and added, "You didn't have to do all this." Russell even waved his hand at Roy as if the mere act could somehow help drive the point through.

After that, everyone involved fell in silence for a brief moment, that is until Roy began clicking his tongue.

"Russell...Russell..." Roy clicked his tongue again. "I didn't take you for the homophobic type."

Pitt raised his eyebrows in disbelief while Russell dipped his in anger. If the current conversation would've taken place in the past, Pitt would've undoubtedly jumped in to defend his blond friend from his superior, but that time had long passed. Russell was now his rival, the one who stole Winry away from him.

With this deep-rooted resentment pumping hard through his veins, Pitt turned to the older man, and with an impish grin plastered across his face, he said, "Maybe he likes what he sees." Pitt then looked from a pleasantly surprised Roy to Russell. The blond's face had turned bright red, as bright as the winter lights adorning the lampposts across downtown during New Year's Eve.

"Oh, Russ, you think I'm gorgeous?"

The comment cut Pitt's victory short. Pitt blinked a few times as he tried to process what he just heard. Roy Mustang's had spoken in a high-pitched tone something that should've been impossible for a man with such a deep voice. He glanced at Russell whose scrunched up face told him with fair certainty he was thinking along similar lines.

"Shut up," Russell hissed between gnashed teeth.

Roy's delighted smirk added fire to his subordinate's indignation. The blond looked away and tried to hide his chagrin behind his long fringe.

An amused smile tugged at the corners of Pitt's mouth. It was clear that the older man took sadistic pleasure in mortifying Russell. Had he known this side of Roy beforehand, he would've considered the Brigadier General an ally instead of an enemy.

Roy picked up a tube of lipstick. A pleased smile made its way to his lips as he took the top off. The crimson red stick slid up as the man twisted the bottom of the tube. Roy pressed the creamy tip to his lower lip then glided it from corner to corner in one smooth swoop.

Roy's movements were mesmerizing. Pitt allowed himself to appreciate the gratifying illusion that makeup provided. If it wasn't because he was actually witnessing it, he never would've guessed a man could look as attractive as a woman—

Pitt's train of thought derailed like the accident of '03 the moment Mustang blew a kiss at him through the reflection in the mirror. He felt his face flooding with heat. That pervy old man! He screamed inwardly as he felt a fierce blush creep over his cheeks. Pitt then remembered who was with him in the room. He took a quick glance at his sworn enemy. But Russell wasn't staring back.

Russell was staring at his Commanding Officer; his jaw had dropped to the ground.

"The plan works," Roy said smugly.

Pitt returned his attention to Mustang who in that precise moment decided to wink at Russell.

The blond snapped out of it. "That's not it!" he screeched. "You're"—Russell paused to gulp—"that's Winry's favorite lipstick! the one I got for her on her birthday!"

Roy twisted the lipstick tube close and put the cap back on. He chuckled. "You have an impeccable taste, Major," Roy said as he swung his left leg to cross over the other, showing even more skin.

Russell looked away. His grimace told everyone in the room that he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Pitt would've done the same; Roy Mustang's witty remarks and exaggerated mannerisms stopped being amusing a while ago.

"Enough!" Pitt growled. He waited to have both men's attention before continuing, and once this happened, the first thing he did was to point a finger at Roy. "You look hideous. Who in their right mind would fall for something like that!" He spat, bristling. Pitt then pointed that same accusatory finger in Russell's direction. "And you! You're just ridiculous!"

After his rant was over, Pitt fished out a tiny envelope made out of wax paper from the pocket of his shirt. He held it high so both men could see it then placed it on top of the nightstand. He took a step back ready to head out of the room. But before leaving he said, "My part here is done. I'll leave you two 'lovebirds' alone."

Pitt had barely made it to the threshold of the door when Roy's voice boomed all over the room.

"I need another favor," Roy simply said.

Pitt curled fists and turned around. "What did you just say?" he roared.

Roy Mustang didn't flinch, he just smiled. Pitt snorted, in turn, wondering if Roy's response came with the territory. The cocky bastard.

"I need you to take us to Cid," Roy said. "I also need you to return to the house and wait for my phone call. Your orders are to bring Wendy to the train station after you receive my message."

Pitt's eyes grew wide with incredulity. "I owe you nothing!" he spat with righteous fury. He turned around and stormed out of the room.

Roy raised his voice again. "You're right, you owe me nothing, but you owe this woman a safe passage."

Pitt's stride faltered.

"Equivalent Exchange: Wendy's safe passage is Winry's safe passage," Roy added.

Pitt heard footsteps approaching him; no doubt they belong to the Brigadier General. He turned around and saw Roy standing by the bedroom door. The man was holding a black wig on his right hand, a wig he decided to put on while he gazed at him.

Roy moved his head a bit while he put the wig in place. He then styled the lustrous, long locks with his fingers.

Pitt couldn't help but stare in awe at Roy's transformation. The style of the wig hid the man's eye patch fairly well—hell—it even accentuated his handsome features.

A most inconvenient blush crept up Pitt's neck, reaching his face and ears. And Roy offered him a smirk of pure satisfaction.

"I'm glad we reached an agreement, beautiful," Roy purred in the most sultry, feminine voice Pitt had ever heard.

Outside The Sheep Beer Bar

Roy bent over and peered inside the car, and offered Pitt and Russell one long look. Right after, he concentrated his attention solely on Pitt, who was glaring back at him from the driver's seat. Roy wasn't in the mood to engage in petulant discourse at the moment—who knew how bad he was going to have it with Cid. He brushed off young man's reaction, and said, "Pitt, you will head back to Rockbell Automail. Please make sure all medical supplies are neatly stuffed in my duffel bag. And wait for my phone call."

He moved to Russell next. There was no way in hell he was going to give the red-headed spitfire a chance to come up with a scathing retort. Russell, who had been slumping on the passenger's seat, squirmed in his seat when Roy concentrated his full attention on him. "Major Tringham, in five minutes you enter the bar. Sit by the counter, and lay low. I will enter the bar after scouting the perimeter, then, I'll get to work my magic on Cid, and once I do, I will escort Cid out of the bar and take him to the alley nudged between the bar and the hotel room. Wait two minutes before going after us. And make sure no one follows you."

Russell gave Roy a tensed nod.

Roy pressed his carmine lips together in disapproval. His subordinate's tension was far worse than he'd expected. The poor sap even had his shoulders all bunched up. At that pace, the blond was going to mess up everything.

"Major, remember you're doing this for Miss Rockbell," Roy said.

Russell's eyes showed awareness, and shame when he looked away.

A smile, born out of sympathy, tugged at the corners of Roy's ruddy lips. "Trust the plan. I'm a professional."

Pitt scoffed in disdain.

Roy turned his attention to Pitt and offered him an annoyed glare.

Pitt was caught off guard by the gesture, but he bounced back rather fast. He met Roy's glare with one of his own then said, "A professional hoochie, for the looks of it."

Pitt's words, though hateful as they were, bounced off Roy. "Hoochie" was a word he'd heard often during his formative years. It was spurted out by insecure men who lack the skills to engage in proper dialogue. Roy's lips curled at the edges in a sly grin, and one eyebrow lifted in an expression that an onlooker would have likely termed devilish. "You know, that kind of sweet talk makes me think you want to switch places with him," he said while pointing a playful finger at his subordinate.

Pitt's jade eyes grew twice their size, and his eyebrows shot up in shock before all settling down into a deep frown. "Fuck off!" he hissed while gripping the steering wheel tightly in his hands.

Roy's good eye gleamed with utter satisfaction. No person who has dared pick a fight with him has ever come out victorious. He said goodbye to Pitt and Russell with a few parting chuckles and left for the bar. He made damn sure to strut gracefully as the Xingese-style dress needed to glide over his body provocatively to make the illusion flawless. Roy looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Pitt and Russell. The way their flustered faces gawk at him told him the plan was going to work.

The Sheep Beer Bar — Five Minutes Later

The bell chimed as Russell pushed the front door open. The damn thing tolled loud—as loudly as the massive bell crowing the tower of Central's Grand Cathedral on an early Sunday morning. Russell cussed under his breath, worried that the sound would attract unwanted eyes his way. But no one, besides the bartender (who most likely was taking tabs of who entered and exited the place) tore their gazes away from their favorite choice of poison, to find out who'd walked in the establishment.

Russell let out a soft puff of breath before heading to the counter. He sat on the stool opposite from the billiard tables and closer to the restroom. The ripe smell of day-old urine hit his nostrils the moment he sat down. Russell did his best not to gag or make a face of displeasure since, from what he could tell, the sitting area was the best of the entire bar. From that section of the bar, he could watch how people moved about the place without bringing much attention to himself. He was about to take off the ivy cap he'd been wearing ever since he got out of the car, but he remembered he needed to keep his face hidden. Russell tipped the cap so it would better cover his face, then, when he felt more self-assured, he took a quick look at who was tonight's customers of The Sheep Beer.

A couple of men lined up on the opposite side of the counter. Their simple clothing and toasted skin told Russell they were farm laborers or shepherds. These men didn't look familiar and most likely they were hired farmhands from the neighboring towns. Russell remembered it was that time of the year when a couple of extra hands were needed here and there for the upcoming harvest. The men were hunched over their drinks, which was the universal signal that they wanted to spend time with their drink of choice. Russell left the men to nurse their drinks in peace and moved his silver gaze over to the billiard tables. A man just made a break shot while his companion took a swig of a beer the only female hostess brought over a moment ago. Russell couldn't see well the man's play from that distance, but from the sounds the balls made as they struck each other, he must've sunk a couple of those balls in his first try. The man who'd been drinking, lowered his beer mug to shower some colorful words at the other. It made Russell wonder if these two men were playing for more than just sport. The man with the beer in hand moved to pick up his cue stick. And that was when Russell spotted Cid.

Cid was leaning against the wall but he pushed away from it once the two men playing billiards began to raise their voices.

Russell quickly turned his gaze away—and just in time—since Cid decided to approach the counter. Thankfully, Cid decided to seat on the opposite corner, far away from him. Now there was no doubt in Russell's mind that he chose his seat well. No one in their right mind enjoys any kind of stench. Russell tugged at his cap again before taking a look at the time on his watch. Only two minutes had passed by since he entered the bar. Those two sure felt like twenty. Russell glanced over his shoulder to watch the entrance of the bar. It was a silly thing to do since the bell hanging over the door would alert anyone of who came and went, but his nerves were getting to him.

"Where the hell is he?" Russell ground out. And as he turned around, he happened to meet the bartender's irritated glare. Russell blinked, wondering why the man looked so pissed off when he remembered he'd forgotten to order a drink when he sat down. Wasn't it customary for the bartender to ask what a patron wants to drink the moment they walk into the establishment? At least this is how they do things back in Central. But he wasn't in Central, and to make things worse, this wasn't the bar he frequented after a long day of work. If the bartender decided to approach him right now, there was a high possibility that his cover would be blown.

Shit. Russell's heart sank to his feet. He knew—HE KNEW the plan wasn't going to work! But he'd always assumed it would be his Commanding Officer the one screwing things up!

The bell rattled as his skin began breaking out into a cold sweat. Russell turned around in time to catch his superior's grand entrance into The Sheep Beer Bar.

Command the room, that was the most crucial step to take in any situation. It'd been a rule dear his aunt drill into his brain—like gospel—ever since he could remember. Roy batted his lashes with impeccable precision as he looked about the bar. The men in the establishment went quiet as they ogled him. Typical cliche. The only man not ogling was his prude subordinate who was sinking lower in his stool—which also was the quickest way to get himself spotted by a keen person such as Cid. But for tonight, lady fortune had favored him, for Cid, had only eyes for him.

A coquettish smile blossomed over Roy's ruby lips as he strutted to the counter. He sat two barstools away from Cid. He offered his devoted attention to the bartender who'd stopped wiping the mug in his hands ever since he made his grand entrance into the bar. The slit of his dress rode up significantly, but that was part of the act. His dear aunt taught "her girls" to speak with their bodies and he was going to do the same. Every subtlety worked on men as men were but simple creatures when pheromones were involved.

Roy glanced at Cid and offered him a coy look before returning attention back to the bartender. He began counting in his head the seconds it'll take for Cid to make a move on him. Cid made it to three.

"Hello," the man in question said as he moved one still over and sat next to Roy.

Cid offered a wide, cigarette-stained smile which Roy found mildly revolting. Cid also decided to let his beady dark eyes roam freely over the ample curves of his fake buttocks and breasts. Roy felt a jolt of disgust run up his spine, which he covered up when he smiled back at Cid. While he wasn't enjoying being looked at like a piece of prime steak, he couldn't deny that he was having a blast channeling his dear aunt. Cid might be a disgusting toad but he was offering him something he hadn't had since he lost his left eye the night he took care of homunculus named Pride.

"Hello, handsome," Roy replied as he twirled a long lock of hair in his fingers.

Cid's jaw hung low in astonishment, in the kind of way it happens to a man who didn't have much luck with women—especially with beautiful women.

Roy smiled coyly to keep Cid enraptured in the moment but Cid was already far lost in fantasy. Roy needed to snap Cid from his stupefied state, so he decided to nurture the man's vice. Roy reached into the sleeve of his dress to fish out a cigarette holder, the kind his aunt used. He twirled the holder in his fingers the way his aunt would do when she was hosting men at her club. Roy could only hope this would make Cid spring into action.

And spring into action he did for Cid blinked out of his stupor to take out a crushed pack of cigarettes from his jacket.

"Here you go," Cid said as he offered a bent-out-of-shape cigarette to him.

Roy took the cigarette from Cid's hand. The poor thing so mangled that it had cracks from being crushed in the packaging. A thought occurred to him. If Cid treated women the way he treated cigarettes, then it was no wonder why the man remained single.

Roy inserted the cigarette into the holder. "Thank you, handsome," he smiled.

Cid fished out a lighter from the same pocket he kept his cigarettes in. He flicked the cap open and struck the igniter with his coarse thumb.

Roy leaned closer and lighted the cigarette. He took the opportunity to access his progress with Cid. The man had this starry-eyed look about him; he'd definitely bought the illusion. At that point, Roy couldn't hide his smug smile. "Thank you," he said as he straightened up.

"You're welcome, gorgeous!" Cid somewhat stuttered in his excitement.

Roy took a long drag. He parted his ruby-red lips during the exhale. The unsightly lump in Cid's throat bobbed full of delight; Roy had to screw a smile in place or risk giving himself away. A moment later, he took another drag. The smoke burned and itched as it traveled down his throat and into his lungs. But Roy was grateful that he was handling the cigarette rather well. He wasn't a smoker by definition though he did enjoy having one every now and then with his best friend.

To keep the demons at bay, as Maes would say.

"What's your name?"

Roy tore his attention from the pleasant old memories when Cid's scratchy voice reached his ears. He offered the man a smile—albeit a sad smile—then said, "You can call me Chris." A beat later, he added, "And yours?"

The way Cid moved in the stool reminded Roy of a kid in a candy store, or a dog when being told it was going out for a walk.

Cid's back straitened like a rod and a toothy ocre smile crossed his unremarkable face. "The name's Cid!" he said as he jabbed a proud thumb against his chest.

Roy felt sorry—the first of many he was going to feel for the poor sucker during his mission.

Roy pressed his lips to the cigarette holder and took a long drag, and after expelling the smoke, he said, "Cid, you don't look like the sheep-herding type."

Cid blinked a few times. Roy knew it'd been a risky move but for Wendy's sake, things needed to move along as quickly as possible.

Then, Cid's goofy stare hardened. "I'm taking care of some personal business." Hard eyes narrowed down on Roy. "You're no milk maiden either."

Just as Roy feared; he'd been too brash. He offered Cid a coquettish smile in hopes this could distract Cid, but the man remained unmoved. Not good. It was time to switch strategies.

"Oh, heavens, of course not! I'm just passing by," he giggled, but given the level of distrust Cid was exhibiting, he would need to give the man some extra incentive to take the bait. "You see, I'm traveling East to Xing," he added. Roy then moved in his stool so the slit of his dress opened wider exposing even more skin. He even went as far to invite Cid to look with a quick bat of his eyes.

A cough came from the far right. Roy widened his smile in an attempt to distract Cid from laying eyes on his idiotic subordinate who obviously couldn't handle the current situation.

Thankfully, Cid had eyes only for him.

Cid leaned in closer. "You're Xingese, huh?"

Roy could only imagine what was going through that man's head. A quick shudder gripped him but he fought it off. "Mixed," he said, getting back in character, then took another drag. This time he blew smoke rings as he exhaled. "I'm needed over there," he offered, then he paused a second before adding, "Business over pleasure." Roy knew blowing out smoke rings would've been enough to charm Cid but it didn't hurt to throw in some arousing wording.

And what did you know? Cid was all smiles.

"That's unfortunate indeed," Cid said. A beat after, he added, "I like to take pleasure over business whenever I can."

Roy smiled with utter satisfaction. He had the man wrapped tightly around his fingers.

A moment of silence passed between the two men. While Cid leered at his body with lecherous intent, Roy took the opportunity to devise his next move against him.

Roy took another drag of his crushed cigarette and glanced around the bar. There was a spot on the far corner of the establishment—near the pool tables—that looked somewhat secluded. It was far from perfect but that spot was the best place to spike Cid's drink. Roy returned his attention to Cid. No more dilly-dallying; he had to make a move now or risk missing the red-eye train to Central. He smacked his ruddy lips together to catch Cid's attention. "Darling, I'm parched," he said in a most sultry voice.

Cid blinked, coming back to his senses. "You are?" he started but then he cut himself off to say, "Of course you are!" He turned to the bartender, who just finished pouring beer into a foggy-looking mug, and hollered, "Two beers my good man!"

The bartender confirmed the order with a nod, then began pouring beer into two new mugs.

The bartender walked to Cid and handed him the filled mugs. Cid took out a few cenz from his jacket and paid the man—no tip, for what Roy could tell.

Cheapskate, Roy thought. But his opinion of the man was irrelevant in regards to his mission.

The next move was his.

"Cid, darling," Roy called and waited for Cid to return his attention back to him. Once Cid did, he added, "I like us to have a little more privacy." He even pointed to the table using the cigarette holder.

Cid's beady eyes lit up like holiday lights. "Lead the way, gorgeous!" He scrambled to get the drinks and dashed to the table.

Roy followed, though reluctantly. Before seating down, Roy quickly glanced over his shoulder. He gave a slight nod to Russell, a subtle cue to his subordinate to get ready for the next step of the plan. Errors weren't allowed from this point forward. Roy then sat down in the chair Cid so aptly had pulled out for him. He picked up the beer mug and took a sip. It took a colossal effort not to scrunch up. Roy wondered if what he was drinking wasn't beer at all but piss. He looked up and watched Cid downing his beer in a few gulps. The sight sent waves of disgust up his throat which he forced down with a smile. There was no way in hell he was going to drink that stuff so he pushed it aside.

Cid wiped the froth from his top lip with the back of his sleeve. Then, he fixed his eyes on Roy. "You don't like beer?"

Roy giggled. "I do!" A pause. "It's that this one is a tad strong for me."

Thankfully his comment was taken with glee since Cid broke into hearty laughter. "You should've told me you don't like beer," he hollered back at Roy. "A delicate little thing like yourself should only have girly drinks."

Roy didn't know if he should feel complimented or offended, still, he chuckled in response.

Cid stood up. "Well, beautiful, I have to use the head," he announced unceremoniously.

Roy screwed in another smile in place. Use the head? really? That type of sweet talk was going keep the Captain single indefinitely.

Although Cid's words were off-putting, it gave Roy the perfect opportunity to slip the drug in his drink. "Cid, darling," he called out to Cid who just started for the "head" as he so crassly said. He waited until Cid turned around to add, "You mind if I order some drinks while you go take care of your business?"

"Knock yourself out, beautiful," Cid grinned, then kept walking. About two steps later, he stopped. He turned around again, and hollered, "Get me another beer!" He then kept going.

Roy nodded; he couldn't help but roll his eyes when Cid yelled, "These ones' on me!" across the room. You're almost done with this buffoon, he reminded himself as he called the waitress over.

Roy ordered a simple drink for himself and more "piss" for Cid. He even encouraged the waitress to speed up the process with a promise of a large tip. Roy then made eye contact with Russell, who was looking absolutely miserable. He gave him one nod, the universal signal to "get ready". Russell nodded back then he returned his gaze to the counter.

Roy's good eye caught movement to his left. It was the waitress coming over with the order.

"Here are your drinks," she said with expectant eyes.

Roy offered her a smile while he dug his hand into the left sleeve of his dress. He pulled out a slender wallet that he'd been hiding up his sleeve and took out some large bills from it.

"For your troubles, beautiful," he said, winking.

The waitress' eyes widened then settled into a deep frown as her cheeks suffused to an intense shade of red.

Roy blinked, surprised by her reaction, but then he remembered he was working undercover.

The waitress took the money from his hand and rushed back to the bar area, but not before offering Roy a look of a thousand deaths.

Roy didn't suppress the chuckle that bubbled up his throat. His aunt would've smacked him right up the head for slipping out of character in the middle of a mission. So much for "errors not allowed". It seems his flirty nature will always get him in trouble—and of course, rainy days.

Roy pushed those amusing thoughts aside and concentrated on the next step of his grand plan. He dug his hand again in his left sleeve but this time he took out the small wax envelope that contained the drug. Pitt warned him beforehand that he would have ten or so minutes before the drug started taking effect. It would've been close to twenty but alcohol helps speed up the process. And thank the heavens for that because Roy wasn't sure how much longer he could stay in character. He brought Cid's beer closer before undoing the envelope. He quickly poured the brownish powder into the beer and stirred the liquid with his finger until the powder dissolved. He stopped when his good eye caught movement coming from the restroom area. He straightened in his chair and picked up his drink.

"Missed me?" Cid asked as he sat down.

Roy took a large sip of his drink.

"I sure missed you," Cid offered when there was no answer.

Roy put his drink down and pushed the spiked beer towards Cid. "Let's make a toast." A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of his ruby lips; victory was one pissy beer away.

Cid picked up the mug. "Let's make a toast!" he repeated with glee.

Roy almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.

"To surprising meetings!" Cid cheered as he raised his mug high.

"And to auspicious outcomes," Roy added as he raised his drink.

Cid grinned wide before chugging down the beer.

Roy smiled. As a man himself, he knew what hope was like. Poor Cid was hoping to get lucky tonight, but all he should be hoping for was for his personal belongings not to be missing after realizing he'd passed out in a dirty alley. Roy took one more glance at the clock hanging on the wall before returning his attention back to Cid. The countdown begins, he thought as he took another sip of his girly drink.

Amestris, Continental Calendar, July 14, 1919 — Central City Train Station

Russell felt the urge to stretch his back in front of the train car exit; he also yawned. Then, he hauled his body over the steps as he exited the car. He dragged himself forward until he reached the center of the plaza. Russell rubbed his tired eyes then looked up at the clock standing tall in the middle of it all. 0557 hours it marked. The red-eye train to Central had been seven minutes late.

Crud.

Russell glanced around. People were still getting off the train; not surprising in the least as the Central-bound train got filled to capacity in the previous stop. Tired, long faces accompanied him ever since.

The majority of these people were commuters who've decided to sacrifice time to earn a few extra cenz. Russell sure didn't envy that type of life. He was happy living peacefully in the countryside.

Traveling in a jam-packed train had been the easiest part of their journey to Central. Time seemed to have sped up right after helping Roy dump Cid in the alley. It meant they both didn't get a chance to change clothes once they returned to Rockbell Automail to fetch Wendy Rockwell.

Between placing Wendy inside Pitt's car and Pitt having problems starting said car, they barely made it to Resembool's train station. It'd been a good thing having purchased the train tickets the day before because no purchases could be made without proper identification. His Commanding Officer might have a silver tongue but there was no way in hell he would've been able to purchase train tickets while wearing women's clothes.

Russell kept looking around the plaza. He had yet to find the man with the description his superior gave him. Central's train station was huge, the biggest in the entire country, but searching for an imposing, muscle-bound man with a sparkling personality shouldn't be that hard.

Out of the right flank, Russell spotted a head sticking out from the sea of people. The man was wearing a bowler hat that did nothing to hide his chiseled features. The man was also searching for someone. Russell caught a sparkle in the man's eyes when their gazes met. Right after, the gigantic man started heading his way, wading through the people like a blue whale wades through the ocean waves. A moment later, the man towered before him. The man took his hat off, exposing a smooth bald head. Russell felt a wave of relief wash over him. He'd found the man who used to be known as Strong Man Alchemist, or more exactly, Alex Louis Armstrong had found him.

"Good morning, Major Tringham. It is a pleasure to finally meet the Emerald Alchemist," Alex said with a kind of fine elegance Russell didn't expect coming from such brawny man.

Not knowing what else to do, Russell extended his hand for a handshake, which Alex took almost instantly.

"Good morning, Mr. Armstrong," Russell said as he shook Alex's hand. "The pleasure is all mine. The Strong Arm Alchemist is a legend around Central Command."

Somehow his comment made Alex's chiseled features soften like warm wax.

"You're very kind to say that, lad," Alex said in a rather bashful tone. "The General didn't tell me he was carrying such a fine young man under his wing."

Russell blinked, stunned by the compliment, but he snapped out of it quickly when he noticed a sudden change in Alex's demeanor.

Alex glanced around the plaza, then returned his attention back to Russell. "Speaking of the General, where is he?"

Roy intruded into the conversation before Russell had a chance to answer the question.

"There you are, darling!" he called out to Russell with overdramatic flair.

Russell shuddered; Alex looked for the person who was speaking to them. They both turned around (Russell did so, but reluctantly) and saw a scantily-clad woman pushing another in a wheelchair. Roy had stayed behind until all the body-able passengers got out of the train cars.

Russell wasn't surprised when Alex's pale eyebrows arched high. He was sure the Strong Arm Alchemist was having a hard time processing the uncanny similarity between Wendy to Miss Rockbell. Alex's expression also showed a marked interest in the woman assisting Wendy.

Alex suddenly cleared his throat, his baby-blue eyes sparkled as he took a bow. "Welcome to Central," he greeted Roy and an unconscious Wendy with regal elegance.

Russell frowned when a mischievous smile spread across Roy's ruby lips; and he scoffed in disapproval when his Commanding Officer extended his hand for Alex to kiss it, as proper custom dictated. He fumed when Roy giggled.

"Would you stop it already!" he snapped at Roy in utter indignation.

Roy narrowed a dark glare on him. A moment later, he said, "Russ, baby, you know better than to treat a lady with such disrespect especially when out in public."

Roy had put a lot of emphasis on the words "lady" and "out in public"; this, in turn, made Russell want to kick himself. He'd forgotten his place.

"My apologies," he sputtered begrudgingly.

Roy stared at Russell for a moment longer, then returned his full attention to Alex. He batted his long lashes at him like he did hours ago to Cid.

Alex's face glowed like a red-hot coal.

"We should move along," Roy said to Russell while Alex came back to his senses. "Our lovely damsel needs rest."

Roy pushed the wheelchair and headed for the exit. The two men followed suit.

Armstrong Residence

Russell caught his breath as his silver-colored eyes took in every majestic detail adorning the mansion known as the Armstrong Residence. He'd heard from colleagues in back in Central Command that the centuries-old mansion was a sight to behold, and they were absolutely right. Even from inside the car, Russell could tell the rich history enveloping the building. The Armstrong Residence's architecture surely rivaled the most regal sites situated in the heart of Central; and, from what he could see from the moving vehicle, so did the gardens.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Alex mentioned, his deep voice booming with utmost pride. "The Armstrong Residence has been in our possession for over two-hundred years."

Russell whistled, impressed. "Truly amazing..." he said as he studied the frieze crowing the façade of the building.

The chauffeur slowed down after he drove past the main gates, and maintained the speed until he reached the porte-cochère.

The car pulled to a full stop; both Alex and the chauffeur got out of the car first. The chauffeur went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He took out Wendy's wheelchair and brought it to the side of the passenger's seat where she rested. Alex gathered Wendy in his arms and transferred her to the chair. Russell picked up the bag with the medical supplies they've brought with them from Resembool and got out of the car. Roy, who had been keeping to himself ever since they left Central Train Station, was the last one to exit.

A young, blonde woman walked was waiting in front of the main entrance.

"Hello, dear brother," the woman said as she offered a cheerful smile to Alex. She then glanced at everyone else. "Hello everyone. My name is Catherine Elle Armstrong." She curtsied. "Welcome to our home."

"Catherine!" Alex cried with joyful emotion then turned again to the party. "Everyone, this is my baby sister: Catherine Elle Armstrong. She too is going to take care of our special guest."

Roy Mustang decided to break his silence. He took a step forward and stood in perfect military stance. "It is quite an honor to have you both extend a helping hand," he declared.

That kind of statement was to be expected given the extraordinary circumstances of the situation. What wasn't expected was for Roy Mustang to deliver the speech in his rich, masculine voice.

Everyone—except for Russell and Wendy (as Wendy was deeply immersed in a coma)—either gasped or gaped at Roy as if they were looking at some sort of strange creature.

"Ge-General Mustang?" Alex gulped like a fish out of water.

Roy nodded.

The response wasn't taken well by Alex. His pale skin of marble-like qualities turned to a deep shade of scarlet.

"I"—he stuttered—"you"—he gulped again—"I thought you were a lady!"

Russell shook his head. He understood Alex's indignation all too well. At least he should be thankful he didn't get duped into kissing a man's hand like Alex—or frolicking like Cid did, for that matter.

"And I apologize for that," Roy affirmed. "I couldn't break my cover. We had a spook tailing us back in Resembool and I wasn't sure if we had another one waiting for us at the train station."

Alex tried to respond to Roy's comment but the words seem to stick in his throat.

Roy took a quick glance at Wendy and turned again to the party. "Now that we got that out of that way, we should move this conversation to a more private place."

"I agree. But first, let's get our lovely guest situated," Alex said after having found his voice.

In the Residence's Drawing Room

"I see...that's how you managed to fool Cid," Alex whispered after listening to General Mustang talk about what happened back in Resembool.

Roy leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his padded chest. "I must admit, all this was harder than I expected," he said, his ruby lips casting downwards.

He'd known his plan wasn't bulletproof. Some sacrifice was required in order for it to succeed, and since his subordinate was still wet behind the ears, he had to take things into his own hands. He wasn't expecting to have fun, though. He had fun—more fun than he had in recent years—while dressing up as a younger version of his aunt. But the last few moments in that stinking back alley—those long minutes before Cid succumbed to the drug's influence—will haunt him for years to come. If there was still a shred of a womanizer in him, Captain Cid Rosenburgh had ripped it off him for good.

"Oh really? I thought I heard you saying you knew how to 'work it,'" Russell offered.

His subordinate might've as well had punched in the gut. Roy shot Russell one long, nasty glare. The insolent shit. It was thanks to him that he had to wrangle Cid. Roy narrowed his eyes, wondering if the Major took his sweet time getting out of the bar on purpose. He hoped not, for the Major's sake. But that spark of defiance in those silver eyes of his told Roy otherwise.

Roy took a deep, calming breath; now wasn't the time to get angry. He put his thoughts on pause and turned to Alex. "What can you tell us about your cousin, the doctor?" He asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"Aurelius Alexander Armstrong is a neurosurgeon specializing in bio-alchemy," Alex began, his voice booming with pride. "He's well known in the medical circle for his breakthroughs in the field."

Alex's expression turned distant as if he was considering something. He met Roy's gaze, and said, "Aurelius will be using a type of cutting-edge technology in the procedure that hopefully will help Mrs. Wendy wake up from her deep slumber."

"Cutting-edge technology...bio-alchemy...I didn't know such a thing even existed," Roy mused, frowning. He then raised his good eye to Alex. "Is it safe?"

Roy stopped at the question. An inexplicable fear had risen from the pit of his stomach and he couldn't understand why. Wendy's safety had been his top priority ever since he arrived in Resembool but what he was feeling at the moment went far beyond. Whatever this was...it disconcerted him. Roy glanced around at the people gathered in the drawing room. Everyone, except Russell, who was looking at him askance, didn't seem preoccupied with by what he'd said.

"Have no worries, my dear friend. Unlike The Armstrong's of Central, our relatives in West City have embraced bio-alchemy and elevated it to a high art form," Alex reassured.

"Medical science is not an art form," Russell scoffed.

"My young friend, that will be up to you to decide that," Alex chuckled.

For once, Roy agreed with his subordinate.

Russell moved closer to the window. "I just hope it works," he said as he looked at the garden down below.

Alex approached Russell. "Have faith, lad," he said as he laid a comforting hand over the blond's shoulder.

Roy's good eye narrowed a fraction as he studied his subordinate's reaction. He wasn't sure everything that'd happened in Resembool had finally caught up to the kid but he was sure Russell wasn't taking Alex's sympathy all too well. One more thing he'll have to address with the Major at a later time.

"When are we going to meet your cousin?" Roy asked, making sure the conversation stayed in the right direction.

Alex let go of Russell. He then held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Aurelius departed West City this morning. He should be arriving at Central in two days," he said thoughtfully.

"Perfect," Roy breathed, relieved. A few beats later, he said, "This meeting is adjourned."

Roy picked up his belongings and started for the door. "I'm heading home," he breathed, the exhaustion in his voice unmistakable.

"Don't forget to wash off Cid's slobber off your face," Russell said haughtily.

Roy stopped midway. He turned around and fixed Russell with a glower. "Remember who you're speaking to, Major. That kind of insolence can cost you dearly."

For the most part, Russell backed off. "Permission to be dismissed, sir," he said in a humbler voice.

Roy stared at him in silence for some time, then said, "Permission granted."

Russell frowned but said nothing. He walked past Roy.

"One last thing, Major Tringham," Roy called.

Russell stopped in his tracks. His stance was rigid, and he didn't turn around right away. When he did, he met Roy's gaze with a miffed expression.

Roy took another mental note. Then, he said, "We still need to discuss the next plan of action." A wide smirk spread across his ruby lips. "Meet me tonight at Madame Christmas's on Jewel Street. Be there at ten o'clock sharp."

Russell all but rolled his eyes at him. "Is that all?"

Roy's smirk grew even wider. "That is all. You may leave now."

Russell grumbled something under his breath as he exited the room.

A dark chuckle bubbled out of Roy. His subordinate's attitude was in dire need of adjustment. Emerald was becoming restless and the mission to bring Miss Rockbell back from wherever she was could be affected by his actions. It was going to be up to him to keep Russell from straying—by all means necessary—even if this meant playing dirty. And Roy knew he was the best at playing dirty.

"Is the lad okay?" Alex muttered.

Roy turned to Alex and offered him a reassuring smile. "Pay him no mind, my friend. The brat is just tense from all that's happened." He paused a beat. "The next time you see him, he will be a changed man."

Roy almost felt sorry for his subordinate. Almost.

Central's Red Light District

Russell doubled the pace as he turned on the corner of Flower and Ruby streets. He flipped up the collar of his shirt hoping it would do the job of covering his face.

Everywhere he lay eyes on was covered in red neon signs. The stink of tobacco and urine permeated the air; he even caught a whiff of the kind of drugs you rolled up in thin paper and light up with a pocket lighter.

Women stood at every corner, the dim streetlights did a good job covering their pasty faces. Once Russell got closer, he could see layers of pain hiding behind the thick makeup. It seemed that the lower parts of town harbored these sad creatures.

Halfway through the Red Light District, Russell understood that some of these street workers weren't women at all. The men whistled at him as he walked by.

Russell thought he'd seen a little girl walking into an alley with a man who could pass as his grandfather. Bad things happen in alleys. His latest experience being in the one annexed to The Sheep Beer Bar. He hadn't meant to have taken long exiting the bar but the bartender was eyeing him in a suspicious way. The bartender's sharp eyes told him he knew a con when he saw one. And that was why he rolled out a few extra cenz and placed them on the counter. The bartender gladly took the cenz, stashed them in his pants pocket and turned around to mind his business.

Russell made a mental note to speak with a police officer as soon as he finished his business with the Brigadier General. His younger self would've gone after that little girl (if she was indeed a little girl, he wasn't completely sure about it at the present moment) but his adult self knew there were rules to follow. This was especially true for the underbelly of Central City—or any city, for that matter. Russell noticed he was nearing the end of Ruby street. The men at the barracks told him that Jewel was located at the end of Ruby. "Finally," he grumbled to himself.

He stopped at the corner of Ruby and Jewel. He pressed his lips into a thin line, wondering which way to go. Right or left? He looked right and saw the street was dimly lit in that direction. Two men in the barracks were regulars at Madame Christmas when asked, they were eager to babble about how luxurious the place was when compared to other places in that district.

"If the right side is dingy, then I guess Madame Christmas is located somewhere on the left," Russell said to himself.

He turned left on Jewel street and sped up until he was walking as fast as when he traversed the shady parts of town. As he walked down Jewel Street, he noticed the street was well lighted. Luxury cars—not women, men or children—lined up next to the sidewalks. Red neon signs were replaced with ornate gold. Madame Christmas was one of those establishments with that type of ornate lettering. Russell walked up to the front of the building. He looked up and read what the sign below Madame Christmas said.

"Gentleman's Club? of course is a freaking gentleman's club," Russell snorted. What else could it have been? A restaurant? How he wanted to wring his Commanding Officer's neck right then and there.

A man wearing a top hat walked past him but not before offering him a telling smile. Mortification spread through Russell's cheeks, making them impossibly hot. Another man walked by. This man was younger than the other and was wearing fancy clothes. He gave Russell a once over then entered the establishment.

"Dammit," Russell grumbled knowing well he looked like an ass while standing in front of the entrance.

The Brigadier General awaited inside, so he sucked in a breath then stomped his way inside the establishment.

The first thing Russell did after he entered Madame Christmas Gentleman's Club was to sigh in relief. He was expecting a titty club like the ones advertised in posters he'd seen plastered all over the Red Light District; Madame Christmas looked like an ordinary establishment the likes one could encounter in the heart of Central.

The men who'd entered before him were being escorted further inside by two gorgeous young girls. While these girls were younger than the men, they weren't as young as the girl he saw walking into the alley. And for the looks of it, no one working in the establishment was underage.

Russell caught a blonde looking his way. The young woman was around his age. Her light hair had luscious waves in the style that was all the rave in Central. He blinked stupidly when the girl winked at him, and he probably did worse when he timidly raised a hand to wave back at her. The girl giggled, then, she walked away, heading towards the back of the club. Russell flowed her with his eyes. It was there where he spotted his idiotic Commanding Officer.

Brigadier General Mustang sat by the bar. At the moment, he was having a vivid conversation with one of the girls. The man at least had the decency to change clothes for their meeting that evening.

Russell groaned in frustration as he walked over to his superior.

"Hello there, Russ!" Roy hollered once he caught sight of him.

Russ? Russell raised an eyebrow. "Are you drunk, sir?"

Roy shook his head. "That's a 'negative', my dear boy." He even went as far as to raise his glass up high. "There's nothing wrong about having a little fun here and there. And the girls...well..." he said as he pointed around, the amber liquid sloshed around inside his glass.

Russell groaned again. "I'm engaged, sir."

"Roy-boy, who's this handsome young man?"

Russell turned his attention to the bartender who was approaching his Commanding Officer.

Roy offered the older woman a look that resembled sympathy, then he turned to Russell, and said, "Madame, meet the Emerald Alchemist."

"So this him," the woman mumbled as she eyed Russell from head to toe.

The way she stared—as if dissecting an insect—made Russell tense up considerably.

A hearty chuckle ripped out of Roy's throat. Russell tore his eyes from the bartender to glare at his superior. Knowing Roy Mustang the way he did, he knew the man was mocking him.

A few beats later, Roy spoke. "Major Tringham, meet my aunt, Chris Mustang, who's also known as Madame Christmas around these parts."

Russell blinked and then blinked some more. Aunt? Chris? That woman was related to his Commanding Officer? A moment after, it hit him. "Chris Mustang is real," he said to himself in stunned realization.

Roy smugly pointed his glass at the picture behind his aunt. "What can I say? She was my muse, Russ." Roy paused, a look of pride softening his expression. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he added as he turned his attention back to Russell.

Russell was at a loss for words.

"Roy-boy, leave the kid alone," Chris admonished though Russell could tell she secretly enjoyed the compliment.

Chris leaned closer to Roy, and said, "By the way, your other guest has arrived. She's waiting for you in the Velvet Room."

"About time," Roy grumbled. His expression turned somber, a stark contrast from what Russell encountered since he walked into the club. Roy turned his good eye on Russell. "Madame, please have Madeline escort dear Russ to the Velvet Room."

Russell narrowed his eyes at his superior. "I'm not going anywhere," he spat. The act of defiance made his Commanding Officer glare down at him in a similar fashion he glared at him back at the Armstrong Residence.

Roy smirked as if reading his thoughts. "Maddie, he's all yours!" he hollered.

The young woman Russell saw at the entrance made her way over to him. Madeline—as his superior called her—cupped a side of his face. "My, you're a handsome firecracker," she purred into his ear when she leaned in closer. Her velvety voice and the close proximity sent shivers of delight to unwanted places. Madeline then found one of his hands. She entwined her fingers with his and pulled him towards the back of the club.

Russell gritted his teeth when the Brigadier General's loud cackles reached his ears.

The Velvet Room

Russell let himself be guided further inside the establishment. Madeline tugged at his hand whenever he slowed down, all while offering him a bubbly smile.

He began thinking about sirens, the kind mentioned in ancient lore. Madeline was like that: a siren. She probably lured men to this so-called Velvet Room to meet their doom. But what type of doom could this beautiful woman be sending him to? Russell gulped; he was in a Gentleman's Club after all.

As childish as it sounded in his head, Russell told himself that it was okay not to do anything he didn't want. Surely his Commanding Officer didn't summon him to that raunchy place so he could enjoy some hours of fun? right? Just thinking about the type of "fun" that went on in that place made his heart beat fast; he was sure his cheeks were glowing like molten metal. Madeline glanced at him and smiled as if she knew what he was thinking—and feeling.

At last, they reached the end of the hallway. Before them, stood a closed-door painted scarlet red and decorated with gold trimmings. There was no doorplate on it, but Russell knew he was standing before the famed Velvet Room. Madeline let go of his hand to open the door. She pushed it open then chimed, "Go right in." Russell did so but only because this is was he wanted.

"Major Hawkeye?" Russell stuttered the moment his silver eyes spotted the Major.

Riza Hawkeye sat in a lavish velvet chair. Even though the Major had dressed for the occasion—loose hair spilling over a lilac satin blouse; a tight black skirt paired with high-heeled boots—she still looked like she didn't belong in that place.

Russell did a quick once over before approaching the blonde.

Thick curtains draped the back of the room. The windows were frosted so no one could witness the kind of depravities that happened in there. More chairs filled out the rest of the space; strangely, there was nothing resembling a bed anywhere. Everything was covered in velvet, of course.

"Good evening, Major Tringham."

Riza's voice intruded upon his consciousness. Russell turned his attention to her. Once he did, he couldn't help but notice Riza was looking past him and Madeline. Was she looking for the Brigadier General?

A couple of beats later, Roy Mustang appeared in front of the door, as if being summoned. Uncanny.

Riza stood up and raised her right hand to her forehead following military protocol. Roy saluted her; she sat back in the velvet chair.

Madeline snaked her arm around Russell's and escorted him to the nearest empty chair. She gently tugged at his arm before he had a chance to sit. Russell stopped. Madeline let go of his arm but not before handing him a folded piece of paper. Russell had a faint idea of what was written in it.

"Call me, if you ever want to hook up." Madeline winked, confirming his suspicions. She then turned around and started for the door. Madeline smiled at both Roy and Riza, and blew a kiss at Russell, before closing the door behind her.

"Looks like Maddie likes you," Roy chuckled. Russell glared back at him, seeing nothing funny about it.

Roy ignored him. He turned to Riza, and asked, "How was the situation with General Hakuro?"

Major Hawkeye was known for her stoicism but her usual indifference seemed to crack upon hearing the question. "Complicated," she finally said after a few beats had passed by.

Roy remained silent as if considering the Major's answer. Whatever he thought, he kept to himself. He walked past Russell and sat on a velvet chair opposite to the Major. He crossed his legs and rested his right arm on the chair's armrest. "How much does he know?" he said soon after.

Riza crossed her arms over her chest, looked away for a second. "Not much—or at least he pretended not to know," she replied once she met Roy's gaze. "General Hakuro did focus on what happened in Resembool on the evening of July the eighth."

Roy straightened in his chair. "Did he bring up Wendy Rockwell?"

Riza shook her head. "No, but that didn't stop him from fishing."

The Major's expression turned dark. Russell frowned; it appeared something else had happened between General Hakuro and her.

Roy picked upon that too for he said, "He didn't—"

Russell's blood turned ice-cold. He'd heard rumors about the Hakuro's questionable behavior towards women. The fear in his Commanding Officer's eyes solidified those accusations.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, sir," Riza said calmly, though her hardened expression told them both to drop the subject.

Roy stared at her for a moment, then said, "Of course, Major. My apologies." He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed.

Major Hawkeye was a fierce soldier. She probably knew how to handle a creep like Hakuro; Russell relaxed too.

"Who did he sent after you?" Riza asked, picking up the conversation where she left off.

"Captain Cid Rosenburgh." Roy all but shivered in disgust.

It was Riza's turn to worry. "What happened?"

Roy crossed his arms over his chest, frowned. "His sniffing around proved to be too close for comfort." He paused, then added, "We had to think outside-of-the-box with that one."

Russell, who'd been quiet for the longest part of the conversation, offered his two cents. "Cid found out about Wendy from the townspeople, so we enlisted the help of a former colleague of mine who happened to be a master herbalist. He managed to create a drug that knocked Cid out cold so we could escape undetected."

Roy uncrossed his arms, and placed them on each armrest; his expression softened considerably.

What happened in the back alley must've affected him more than Russell imagined. He met and held his superior's gaze, and waited for him to give him the okay to keep going. Roy nodded. Russell turned to the Major, and continued, "The General was the one who ended drugging Captain Rosenburgh—" he stopped up short, looking extremely put out. He just couldn't shake off the mental image of Roy in a tight dress, or how he struggled to fend off Cid in that back alley.

"I assumed the Madame's identity to administer the drug," Roy finished for him. Once again, he'd crossed his arms over his chest.

Riza blinked. "You dressed up as your aunt Chris?" she said, utterly and completely perplexed about what she just heard. And Russell couldn't blame her. He had the same reaction when he first heard of his superior's grand plan.

"It worked, and that's all that matters," Roy responded, scowling at both of them like a petulant boy.

"The others—" Riza began. "They would've paid anything to have seen you in dressed as a woman—" Riza managed to say before bursting into giggles.

Russell's jaw hung open, thinking how unnatural was watching Major Hawkeye laugh.

Roy soon joined Major Hawkeye, which made things worse.

"You just wanted to see if Havoc would hit on me," Roy said after he calmed down.

"Pretty much," Riza said then laughed some more.

At that point, Russell had enough. Was there something in that place that turned people into shameless lunatics? His face twisted with frustration. "Fucking unbelievable," he gritted out, directing his glare at Riza then at Roy.

Roy's chuckling died down and a deep scowl soon replaced his mirthful expression. His good eye narrowed, his lips were pressed into a thin line. "If everything goes according to plan, Wendy Rockwell will emerge from her coma. After that, we'll convince her to tell us how she switched bodies with Miss Rockbell," he said after a while.

Russell gave Roy an arch look. "She might not want to cooperate, or she might not know what happened to her in the first place," he snorted in disbelief, wondering how the older man couldn't foresee this happening.

Roy narrowed his eye even more, and a rather peculiar smile spread across his lips. "Oh, she'll talk. I'll make sure she does," he said, then paused, as if considering what he just said. "And if she doesn't know what happened, then we will proceed with Plan B."

There was something unsettling about Roy's words. Was he considering torture? No, that couldn't be it. The man wouldn't have gone to such great lengths to rescue Winry's double just to torture her after she woke up. And then there was this Plan B, which sounded more sinister than torture.

"Plan B?" Russell decided to ask because his Commanding Officer had proven already he would anything to get results.

"Plan B, you ask?" A dark chuckle escaped Roy's lips. "You're going to love this one since you have the starring role."

"What?" He knew it. A prickling of apprehension went through Russell.

Roy chuckled some more. "Don't worry, Russ, you're not going to end up wearing Winry's lipstick or anything of that sort; however, you'll get your hands dirty with another red substance: Red Water."

Russell stared at Roy, too stunned to talk.

A wicked smile crossed Roy's face. "A couple of years ago tragedy befell the good people of Xenotime. A mysterious illness spread across town, and many lives were lost. But after a strange chain of events, in which evergreens of the area ended turning red, the mysterious illness suddenly disappeared. No one in Xenotime had any idea of how this miracle happened. They couldn't have known it'd been a pair of brothers who caused so much pain...all for a miserable shot at fabricating a Philosopher's Stone."

Russell was glaring at his superior in indignation. Roy Mustang, in the years he'd been under his command, had never hinted at anything regarding Xenotime. Now it had become painfully obvious that the older man was waiting for the perfect moment to use what happened in Xenotime against him.

"You bastard..." Russell hissed, but that wasn't enough to quell his rising anger. "You conniving piece of shit!" he yelled, raising his clenched fist threateningly at Roy. Chain of Command be dammed!

Roy simply smirked, adding insult to injury. "I recognize talent when I see it, and I like taking care of such good talent, just like I did with Edward and Alphonse Elric in the recent past."

"You're a real piece of work, Mustang," Russell sneered. He suddenly remembered what the Brigadier General said to him back at the Armstrong Residence. He should've known Roy Mustang wasn't the type of man who made idle threats.

"Alphonse Elric, moments before going after his older brother, said to me that he used the homunculi known as Wrath and Gluttony as an alchemical amplifier to carve the transmutation circle in the Underground City," Roy cut in.

Even though Russell was dizzy with rage, he wasn't that far gone as to not understand what his Commanding Officer was inferring. The transmutation circle found in the Underground City had been in reality an inter-dimensional gate, like Resembool's. The outrage he felt towards the older man deflated like a balloon. His shoulders sagged as he crumpled in his chair. "Homunculi are powered by low-grade red stones..." he mumbled, remembering the anatomical structure of those alchemical aberrations.

"As far as I know, the homunculi had been completely wiped out from our world; thus the reason why we need to use Red Water—which has the power of low-grade stones—to reopen Resembool's gate," Roy added.

Russell felt air inside the Velvet Room become heavy. "Fletcher and I...we promised Ed and Al that we weren't going to work on that stuff anymore," he said on a shaky stream of breath.

Roy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and interlocking his hands. "I can provide you with a safe environment where you can produce Red Water without hurting others."

Russell raised his head upon hearing Roy's suggestion.

"This is the only viable way to bring Miss Rockbell back," Roy stressed when their gazes met.

Russell frowned; the man was right. The alchemical energy packed in the Red Water could activate the transmutation circle that swallowed Winry but going back on his promise to Ed and Al... He stopped and focused on Winry instead. Hadn't he promised Winry to keep her safe from harm? "Fine," Russell spat, already hating the role he'd been cast into. "But I can't do this without my brother." His upper lip curled as he added, "But you already knew that."

Roy smiled wryly. "Of course," he said then turned his attention to Riza. "Major, please work on a special duty requisition for Fletcher Tringham. I'm going to personally present it to the Director of the Amestrian Alchemy Academy tomorrow afternoon."

Riza nodded. "It'll be on your desk by 0800."

"Thank you Major Hawkeye," Roy replied. He glanced at Riza then at Russell, and added, "You're both dismissed."

Russell shot Roy a fierce glare as he stood up, he even glared at Major Hawkeye when he walked past her. He ignored everyone in the club; sneered at Madeline when she tried to offer him a smile.

When Russell exited Madame Christmas Gentleman's Club, he let out a ragged moan of frustration, defeat, and sorrow. So this is what it meant to be a 'dog of the military'? he thought as a wave of exhaustion washed over him.

The answer to that question sickened him more than he already was.

Amestris, Continental Calendar, July 16, 1919 — Amestrian Alchemy Academy

Fletcher kept staring at the Amestrian Alchemy Academy until it disappeared from sight. He let out a soft puff of air, turned around, and glanced at his brother who sat next to him. Russell was looking out the window like he'd been doing. Fletcher left his older brother be and turned his gaze forward. Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc was at the wheel of the military car; Brigadier General Mustang sat next to him in the passenger's seat. Silence reigned. The only noise barely putting a dent in that silence came from the vivid conversation between two radio hosts from a radio channel Fletcher had never heard before. One of the hosts announced the time before switching to commercials. Fletcher sighed.

About an hour ago, he got pulled from his Alchemy 101 class by the Director of the Academy himself. At the time, part of him was grateful to have been pulled out of the class since the material being taught was so basic that was boring him to death. Little did he know, when he walked into the Director's office, that he was going to find Brigadier General Mustang and his brother waiting for him inside. Instantly, Fletcher felt a prick of apprehension in his heart. Before he had a chance to react, the Director jumped in. He began by telling him how he'd been granted the opportunity to work for the Brigadier General. The Director also congratulated him on gaining what was considered a dream and a privilege at the academy. But what happened to Fletcher couldn't be considered a dream-come-true or a privilege especially after finding out why he'd been selected to work for the Brigadier General.

Fletcher looked down at his lap. He still wore his khaki-colored cadet uniform; he was told to buy new clothes at a later time. Fletcher closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he said, "Red Water, brother?" he tried to keep his voice neutral, but failed.

And how could he not fail? He was being forced to work on something he promised not to touch ever again. To make matters worse, if he failed to cooperate, his soon-to-be-sister-in-law was going to remain stuck in another world, never to return home.

Russell tore his gaze from the window and settled it on his brother. His heartbroken expression made Fletcher's heart clench in his chest.

"Is there no other way?" Fletcher insisted, this time using a softer tone.

Russell shook his head then turned back to look out the window.

Fletcher's clenched his jaw. He looked forward and noticed the Brigadier General was staring at him through the rearview mirror.

"What you're doing is wrong," he said to Roy with a narrowed glare.

Roy's lone eye narrowed a fraction. "And is unethical too," he added.

Fletcher snorted, shocked with what he just heard. The Brigadier General's blatant response also caused a reaction in Russell for he turned around and stared at him. There was anger brewing behind those silver eyes of his. Fletcher gulped. He knew his brother was about to spit something at his superior that most certainly would land him in hot water. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—to stop his brother from getting in trouble, but the Brigadier General beat him to it.

"Life is tough, kid," he said, surprisingly directing his words at Fletcher himself. "Sometimes we're forced to do things that are wrong."

Fletcher grimaced; Russell snorted, but other than that, and to Fletcher's dismay, he remained silent.

Fletcher just couldn't believe it, his brother chose to bite his tongue—something must've happened to Russell to choose submission over defiance. "As long as the means justify the end..." he retorted in his brother's stead. He expected a harsh reprimand for his actions but nothing of the sort came to pass.

Roy turned his attention to Jean, and asked, "Second Lieutenant Havoc, how much longer to the Armstrong residence?"

"I say about thirty minutes or so, Chief."

Roy returned his gaze to Fletcher. After a few long minutes of staring through the rearview mirror, Roy turned his gaze to the road ahead.

Everyone kept to themselves for the rest of the ride.

The Armstrong Residence

"Right this way, gentlemen." Catherine Armstrong escorted the group of men to the guest room where Wendy has been situated. "Big brother Alex, and our dear cousin, Aurelius, are waiting for you," she added as she opened the door.

Roy entered first, followed by Russell then Fletcher. Alex was sitting on a couch, having a lively conversation with Aurelius. Alex stopped mid-sentence; his eyes—his entire persona—seem to sparkle as he laid eyes upon the lot of them.

Alex stood up and walked up to them. "General, Major—" he greeted respectively. He then turned his attention to Fletcher. "And you must be Major Tringham's younger brother, Fletcher."

Fletcher grinned sheepishly while rubbing the back of his neck.

Alex spun his head around to look at his cousin. "Gentlemen, I present you, my cousin, Aurelius Alexander Armstrong."

Aurelius got off the couch. Roy's brows arched as he studied the man's physique. He was expecting to encounter a man no different than himself, but he should've known Aurelius Alexander Armstrong was going to be as regal as his good, bald friend.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Aurelius exclaimed in a booming voice that matched his imposing body.

Roy glanced at his subordinate who was staring at the man in awe. Russell's expression made Roy smirk in agreement. From their impressive height to their chiseled musculature, to their deep voice; Alex Louis Armstrong and his cousin were like two drops of water. It was Fletcher who vocalized what the two of them were thinking.

"Amazing...the two of you look like brothers, twins even."

Alex's eyes brightened, and a hearty chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Nonsense, lad—" he began, but Aurelius cut him off.

"Nonsense indeed! I'm the handsome Armstrong in the family."

And just as intense, Roy couldn't help but think.

"Doctor Armstrong, can you bring her out of her coma?" Roy said, focusing on what mattered the most.

Aurelius expression changed, and so did Alex's.

"I did an evaluation earlier, and yes, I can jumpstart her brain(1)," Aurelius said in a somber tone.

But his answer did impart any confidence in Roy, nor in his subordinate, as Russell snorted in apparent indignation.

"Jumpstart—?" Russell scoffed. "She's not a damn car."

While Russell's comment was out of line, he expressed what Roy was thinking.

"Brother..." Fletcher offered his brother a chastising look. Russell narrowed his eyes at him, but other than that, he backed off.

Good, Roy thought. Having the younger brother around was already proving to be an efficient way of keeping the older one in check.

Now that the Tringham issue resolved itself, Roy returned his attention to Aurelius. "Is the procedure safe?" Roy asked because even though he didn't approve his subordinate's poor execution, he could understand where he was coming from.

Aurelius held Roy's gaze for a few beats. An earnest expression fell over his face. "It is. Over ninety percent of the people I've jumpstarted emerged from their coma with no significant problems, this, of course, changes depending on the severity of the trauma the person suffered."

Roy glanced at Wendy then back at Aurelius. "What happens to the people that fall in that ten percent?"

Aurelius crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turned distant. "Alex told me Mrs. Rockwell has been unconscious for eight days straight. Muscles atrophy fast...she will need physical rehabilitation." He fastened his gaze on Roy once more. "You treated her with great care because I couldn't find any bed sores on her body, and that's a good thing, otherwise I would've had to treat those too, in case of an infection."

Roy shuddered at the answer. He glanced at Wendy thinking about how fragile the human body was. "Is safe to say that Wendy falls in the ten percent?" Roy said as he returned his attention to Aurelius.

Aurelius' expression became solemn. "Unfortunately, she does, but again, I don't know the extent of the damage until she's responsive."

Russell cut in. "How long could the rehabilitation take?"

"Depends on her physical constitution. It could take days or it could take months. But I plan to speed up the process with some body-strengthening techniques I learned during my time living in the Far East."

Now there was a ray of hope in all this. Roy remembered reading books from his grandfather's library regarding the medicinal advances of the Far East. "When can you start?" he asked with a confident smile.

"Right now, if that's okay with everyone."

Aurelius kept surprising them all with his answers. Both Tringham brothers fixed Roy with worried gazes, which, unfortunately, reverberated with his own. But nothing would get resolved if a decision wasn't made. Roy drew in a breath, then said, "Go ahead, Doctor. I will take full responsibility for whatever happens to Mrs. Rockwell."

Aurelius nodded. He spun around and approached Wendy's inert body. From the medical bag sitting on the nightstand, Aurelius pulled out a bunch of wires. He then began winding those wires around Wendy's arms and shoulders, connecting them together at the neck.

"Should we take our leave?" Fletcher asked.

Aurelius looked up. "Not at all, lad," he said before returning to the task at hand. "Jumpstarting is a relatively non-invasive procedure." He took out two copper rods from the medical bag and showed them to everyone in the room. "That is if you don't count these rods, which need to be inserted into the nasal passages." Aurelius placed the rods next to Wendy. He raised his head, then said, "Please come closer."

The men gathered around Wendy, albeit reluctantly.

Aurelius inserted a cylinder in each of Wendy's nasal passages. He connected the wires gathered at the neck to these cylinders. He checked all the connections to make sure everything was secured. Aurelius turned to his bag once more and took out a bottle containing what looked like copper paint. He also took out a thin brush from the bag. A moment after, Aurelius began drawing lines over the anterior part of her forearms and her palms. He then drew an alchemical array in the center of each palm; painted lines to the tips of the fingers, and ended theses lines in open circles.

Roy noticed that the entire array resembled circuit boards—the kind Fuery worked with. It made him wonder what source of power was needed to activate the array. "Aurelius, you mastered elemental alchemy?" He asked as an educated guess.

"Indeed!" Aurelius' face beamed with proud satisfaction. "I can control the power of electricity, my dear General. In fact, I use my own body as the power generator."

"Most impressive," Roy smiled, recognizing in the man a talent that he too possessed.

Aurelius rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. A vast network of inked lines identical to the ones drawn on Wendy covered his forearms, maybe even the entirety of his limbs. He turned to his medical bag. This time around, he procured a pair of bracers. The armor-like items looked like they were made out of gold. An intricate network of alchemical lines and runes made out of copper adorned the bracers. There was a final array etched on the outer plate; the array was enhancer type.

Aurelius turned to the group, and said, "Now I will commence with the procedure." He positioned Wendy's hands so the palms would be facing up, then he positioned his own so that the palms of his hands hovered over hers. "The circuit will become closed once my hands make contact with hers," he said, not taking his eyes off Wendy.

When Aurelius pressed down, blue electricity began coursing gathering around them. Trails of blue current left Aurelius traveling up Wendy's arms following the path of the wires. The current pooled into the copper cylinders inserted in her nostrils. Upon contact, Wendy's body arched as it was being electrocuted.

Fifteen long seconds ticked by before Aurelius let go of Wendy's hands. He staggered backward; Alex was right behind him, ready to catch him before he crumbled to the floor.

Roy was at a loss for words, and so were both Russell and Fletcher.

Wendy was still as death, and Aurelius looked like he was about to pass out. The silence in the room stretched until it was so taut Roy feared something had gone wrong.

Aurelius came back to his senses. He wobbled a bit, but soon he was able to stand up straight. He then approached Wendy, slowly. Alex handed him a stethoscope. Aurelius inserted the earpieces in his ears and placed the disk against her chest. His head bobbed ever so slightly as if he was counting seconds. Shortly after, Aurelius removed the disk from Wendy's chest; and took off the earpieces from his ears. "Her heart is beating normally, and her pulse is stable," he explained when he turned to the group.

Then, Wendy moaned.

To everyone's surprise, Wendy opened her slate green eyes. It looked as if she was trying to regain consciousness, but having been unresponsive for days, proved to be an impossible task. An inhuman sound ripped out of her lungs, upsetting almost everyone in the room.

"You're in goods hands, my dear," Aurelius said, whispering the words in her ear before prickling her arm with a syringe.

Roy watched with relief as Wendy relaxed.

Aurelius turned his attention back to everyone. "I will keep monitoring her vitals, but I can tell you her reaction is a positive sign. She will recuperate just fine."

"It worked..." Roy breathed, relieved that this part of the journey was over.

Aurelius' eyes twinkled, and the corners of his mouth curled upwards. "You better believe it, my dear General. The jumpstart procedure was a success."

A/N 1: Halfway through the rewrite! And yes, it's been 4 months since I last posted. But did you know this chapter is almost 14,000 words long? That is around 3,500 words if I posted something in those 4 months. Think if this chapter as 4 chapters... Also, yes, this chapter is on the crack side of things. It was always meant to be this way.

Visit my Tumblr page: hirstories dot tumblr dot com for story-related artwork and other stories.

Thank you for reading!

References

(1) INVESTIGATION OF THALAMUS ELECTRICAL STIMULATION EFFECTS ON BRAIN ACTIVITY OF COMA PATIENTS is a medical publication that explains how a coma patient can be treated with electrical stimulation to the thalamus by inserting (copper rods into the nasal passages and using low current for stimulation). This was my inspiration for the way Wendy was woken up from her deep coma. If you're interested in the subject just copy the title of the publication and paste it to the Google search bar.