187AUTHOR'S RAMBLINGS
This story has gotten way more attention than I've been giving it lately from readers. As a result, I've gone back over the story and I'm beginning to rewrite it. I started this in my sophomore year of highschool and I regret much of the continuity errors and grammar. Therefore, the revamp begins. (I'll do the best I can to keep the plot the same, but there may be some changes.
Chapter One
The military officer stood at attention at his post, a spec of blue amidst a field of canvas tents. His eyes roamed the aisle in front of him, never straying off into the sky in the heat that most soldiers found abhorrent. He was the picture of a perfect soldier, pins and medals decorating his uniform to show his rank as second-lieutenant. Unfortunately for him, he was about to go against someone the likes of which he'd never faced before. A flash of black just barely caught his eye and he turned, squinting at the spot. There were no foot prints and no sign of anything except dirt and sand on the ground. After a long moment, he turned back to his sweep, paying careful attention to the location in case it developed into something.
A breeze swept through the camp, fluttering the canvas flaps that weren't tied down. Another flash of black caught his eye and he turned to look again. As subtly as he could, he placed a hand on his gun before drawing it slowly. He finally spotted a foot print in the dust, just behind the tent diagonally to his left. Training the barrel at the ground, he placed his finger on the trigger. That footprint wasn't regulation army combat boots. It was something else, with a definitive heel marking.
Someone was in the camp that wasn't supposed to be. And they were in a combat outpost.
"Raise the-" he began to shout, but suddenly the intruder was in full sight. A young man, blonde hair tied back in a tail, about seventeen or eighteen years old from what he could see. The teenager was wearing black slacks and a black jacket with silver trim. This struck the soldier as odd. What person wears solid black in 90 degree F (32 C) heat?
"Who are you?" the soldier demanded, raising the gun to eye level, prepared to shoot. The man scowled at him and shook his head ever so slightly. "Who are you?!" the soldier repeated. Still the young man didn't answer, so the soldier took a chance and fired a warning shot. The man didn't visibly flinch, just stood, watching as if testing him. He fired again, landing a little closer to stranger and repeated his demand. "State your name!"
The man charged and the soldier stood his ground, wondering why no one was appearing. Was it possible that this silent stranger had gotten to them, without anyone noticing? No one knew what secrets the Cretians had pulled from their depths to get this land holding. The tribes stretched back for ages, even longer than Amestris itself and the only thing that kept them out of power was their lack of land holdings. They finally decided to fight, and their warriors were versed in many styles of fighting.
Blue on black started a deadly dance in hand to hand combat, first the man knocked the soldier's gun out of his hand and then kept him away. As the fight continued, the surrounding area remained empty. After a minute or two, the soldier noticed there was a pattern. The man was striking with his left arm and leading with his right foot rather consistently. A moment later, the soldier spotted an opening and struck, hitting a nerve on the man's right soldier. Unfortunately for him, this was a bad choice.
He let out a shriek as his hand dropped; it felt like at least one bone was broken. The man's shoulder was metal! His pain distracted him and the stranger was able to land a direct hit to the back of the soldier's neck. The blow didn't knock him out, but it dazed him and he felt himself unable to move. What would happen now?!
The stranger knelt on the ground in front of him, putting a hand into his right pocket. Was he reaching for a gun? A knife? He felt his terror build. It was the end. This man had eradicated the camp, and now he was going to die! Well, if the man tried to torture him, the soldier refused to reveal anything! This man would get nothing for his murderous acts!
The man held something in front of him and he blinked. It wasn't a gun. It wasn't a knife. It wasn't even a weapon of any kind. The object was a silver pocket watch. He blinked again, trying to process. It was a silver pocket watch... With the crest of Amestris. The sign of a State Alchemist. As he knew the camp contained no State Alchemists with the exception of the man due to arrive that day, he realized exactly who he had shot at and considered himself immediately dismissed from the military.
"O-Ohayo, Brig. Gen. Elric..." he managed, "I... " The Brig. Gen. put his watch back in his pocket and frowned heavily at the soldier. He reached into his other pocket, pulling out a palm-sized notepad and a pen; flipping to an empty page, he took the pen in his left hand and began writing. The soldier glanced at him in confusion. Why wasn't he getting a reprimand? He attacked his commanding officer.
State your name and rank.
The soldier frowned, but complied. "Sean Rowe, second lieutenant." The notebook was pulled back and a second note was added underneath.
Two weeks probation for unprovoked firing.
Rowe finally dropped his face into the dirt. Great. When his friend Bayr heard, he was going to be murdered. Something poked him in the side of the head and he looked up to see the Brig. Gen. holding out one hand and gesturing to his lapel with the other. Rowe groaned and managed to roll onto his back and sit up. He unfixed the pins and handed them over.
"This is your tent, Sir." he reported, voice almost a mumble, but just loud enough to still be considered respectful, "Majors Havoc and Breda are awaiting inside." The Brig. Gen. looked Rowe in the eye and nodded. He scribbled one word and held it up.
Thanks.
Elric stood and gestured to the surrounding area where a few men came out to Rowe. Unfortunately, one of them was Bayr.
"You sure got yourself into a sorry state this time," the man murmured, trying not to laugh as he gave his friend a hand up.
"Yeah well, you try it and see how it goes," Rowe snapped back, leaning on his friend as they walked away. The third soldier took up Rowe's place a few paces from the tent opening and waved as they left.
Elric walked into his tent, already scribbling a note for the next people he would have to... endure 'speaking' with. He entered note first, taking the men by surprise.
Warning shots from the guard. He's got two weeks probation.
"Geez Chief," the first man, a blonde, began, "First day on site and you're already suspending officers!" The Brig. Gen. pointed at the words 'shots' and mimed shooting a gun with his hands.
"Oh," the second man, a brunette, replied, "So that's how you evaluated him?" Elric nodded and demonstrated a chop with one hand, pointing to his right shoulder.
"Oh," the blonde said, echoing the other man, "Hand to hand. Did he go straight for the automail arm?"
"No, of course not Havoc," the shorter man replied, "He observed for a minute as best he could and then struck what he viewed to be the weak point. Don't you remember any of your basic training?"
"That's what I meant, Breda!" Havoc countered, annoyed, "I know how to observe an enemy's strengths and weaknesses!" The men bickered for another minute and Elric took a minute to observe the tent. It was rather small, beige, and contained a simple mat for sleeping. Havoc sat at the head of the mat and Breda sat at the foot as they went on. Elric sighed and dropped between the two to stop the argument.
Why are you out here too?
"What do you mean?" Havoc asked, frowning as he was seated in a better position to see the notepad.
You haven't been out here long.
"What makes you think that?" Breda asked this time, turning a little so he could see as the teenager wrote.
Your uniforms. Not caked with dust like Rowe's.
Breda let out a sigh and Havoc shook his head. "The Fuhrer sent us out here to coach you in military tactics and assist you in leading the division. We've been here about a week now."
Why?
"Do you think you can do it all by yourself?" Elric considered for a moment and shrugged. A loud rumbling sound interrupted further conversation and both Majors looked at the Brig. Gen. before laughing. Loudly.
"Well, at least that's one thing that hasn't changed," Havoc chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Dinner's at 1800," Breda said, checking his watch, "Think you can hold out for half an hour, Edward?" Edward Elric considered for a moment and pouted, but nodded his head.
Hand-signals?
"Sure," Breda said amicably, "Why don't you show us what you know and we'll move from there." The next twenty minutes were devoted to common orders, like advance, retreat, circle around, cut him off, stop, and so on. Edward's formal knowledge was rather lacking, so Breda was adamant in making sure he could do them with both hands. Havoc interjected where necessary about which orders were more commonly used and what Amestrians would know that other militaries might be unaware of.
Finally, they came to a stop and the three men stood up to head for the mess hall near the center of the camp.
"I am starving!" Havoc exclaimed, stretching out a kink in his shoulder.
"I think that it's stew tonight, right?" Breda asked, watching Edward for a reaction out of the corner of his eye. Nothing. The blonde acted like he hadn't even heard. And Breda was positive that the Brig. Gen. had. The teenager was freakily observant at a young age and he knew that this man was as well.
"It should be," Havoc replied, also noticing the lack of action, "Just what someone needs after a long train ride, huh?" Again, no reaction. Both Majors frowned and studied Edward for the rest of the short walk, wondering where all of his energy had gone. They continued on and made it to the mess hall a few minutes later. Cooks were flying in and out of the kitchens, setting up the trays of food. The three soldiers sat at the table and observed the mayhem for a moment.
"Do you own a uniform, Chief?" Breda asked suddenly, turning to the alchemist to his left. Edward shook his head and glanced at him lifting an eyebrow.
"You stand out in the black, Chief." Havoc stated, catching on to Breda's plan. The eyebrow rose a notch higher, gold eyes peering out at the two men.
"If someone attacks the outpost, and they probably will," Breda continued, "They're gonna know that you aren't the standard soldier."
"...Which means they'll target you..." Havoc said after a moment. A light dawned on Edward's face and he scribbled another note out, holding it up for Breda to read.
Where do I get one from?
"You can get one of the extras from the barracks, they don't have ranks on them, and we can probably draw out what the badges and stripes look like and have you transmute them."
Edward considered for a moment and shrugged. His stomach let out another loud gurgle and he gazed over towards the buffet line.
How much longer?
The two soldiers could practically hear his whining and laughed, checking their watches.
"It's time to eat, Soldiers!" one of the cafeteria workers yelled, a woman with long black hair pulled up into a hair net, "Or we'll throw it back to town!"
In a flash, Edward was up from the table and the majors glanced at each other surreptitiously. He hadn't shown this much excitement a few minutes ago... Still though, no screech of excitement as he threw himself up to be first in line with a note held up to the serving lady. She read it briefly and smiled as she scooped up a large serving for him from one of the pots.
"Here you go, Sir!" With a shake of the head, the two went to join the rapidly forming line. Twenty minutes later they had finished eating and turned in their dishes. Havoc lead the way and Edward walked with Breda as they toured the camp.
"This is the med tent," Havoc announced gesturing to a rather large tent near the center of the camp, "It's located centrally so it's harder to get to any injured soldiers and the doctors are always ready to go." Edward nodded and the three walked on, not noticing one of the medical staff staring after the blonde alchemist thoughtfully.
"These are the showers," Breda announced, pointing out a large tent near the back of the encampment, "They have a five minute water limit, and you can't take more than one, so make sure you budget your time." The tour continued, pointing out things like temporary command, advanced troop tents, training areas that were basically clearings in the forest of tents. Forty minutes of walking, talking, and note interpreting later, they were back at Edward's tent. The guard had changed from earlier so Edward was introduced and then the three soldiers were inside the canvas flaps.
Edward yawned and the two majors grinned like wicked puppies.
"Tired there Chief?" Havoc asked, still grinning. Edward nodded but shook himself and pulled out his notepad.
What next?
"You go to bed," Breda answered. Edward took another look at the pair, eyebrow ascending at the looks the two gave him. After a moment of silence, Edward lifted another note.
And?
"You get up at 400!" they said together. The eyebrow was joined by its partner in skepticism. After a moment, the young man shook his head, gesturing for the two to leave. It was only 1900, 7 pm in civilian terms, but he was exhausted.
Havoc and Breda left the tent together and stood a little ways off from the guard.
"He's too obvious," Breda said seriously, "Standing out in the open like that, it's no wonder that Edward felt the need to asses Rowe earlier.
"Did he even notice that the guard changed from earlier?" Havoc questioned in return.
"It's unlikely it would have caught his eye if we hadn't pointed it out," Breda answered, stepping into the shadow of a tent where he could observe Edward's tent and the surrounding area with ease, "I'll take first watch. Come relieve me in four hours."
"Will do," Havoc replied, shooting off a mock salute, "After all, it's weird to be awake at the same time..."
"Night, Havoc," Breda said, dismissing his friend.
"Night," Havoc walked off with a yawn. The smoker had been up for 17 hours as he usually took the night shift. Although the two usually switched off between shifts, they had decided to greet Edward on the same shift. Havoc barely made it to his tent before collapsing onto his bedroll, alarm at his side. Breda would kill him if he was late for the watch change.
Breda took up his residence with ease, relatively unfatigued for once. He was absolutely certain that Havoc was already asleep on his feet, so the shorter man gave him a break. With that settled, he hunkered down to wait and to watch.
A wordless scream split the air, ringing out through the camp. It was no normal scream. This was one of pain that would haunt the soul, signs of traumatic and possibly irreversible damage to the psyche of the one giving out the tortured sound.
Breda leapt forward, pushing aside the tent flaps moments later to find Edward. He was no longer on the mat, having rolled. His left hand was in a bad way, beating at the automail over and over, attempting to remove what appeared to be an offending appendage.
"Edward!" Breda called, attempting to wake the alchemist, "Edward!" he stepped forwards, attempting to pin the smaller man down in order to wake him. Moments later, Edward's arms were down, but his legs were still thrashing. "Bayr!" he snapped, calling the guard who was supposed to be on guard outside of the tent. Beneath him, Edward's struggles slowed, but the alchemist was still not waking up.
"BAYR!" Breda roared even louder, wondering how on Earth the man could still be asleep. A few moments later, the lieutenant appeared in the doorway of the tent. His hair was sticking up on one side and his uniform was wrinkled in such a way that Breda knew without a doubt that he had been asleep.
"Go get Major Havoc and then find someone from the medical team and bring them here!" he snapped. The lieutenant ran, doing his best to not cause any more harm to what was already potentially ruining his military career.
Breda continued his attempts to wake Edward, and finally, after a few minutes, succeeded. The gold eyes snapped open moments later, haunted and unable to focus for quite some time.
"Edward…" Breda muttered, relieved. The man let go of the alchemist a moment later, sitting back to give the smaller man breathing room. After a moment, Havoc burst into the tent, half dressed and hair standing almost straight into the air.