A/N: Jesus Christ, school op plz nerf.

Facility Gamma

B Wing Infirmary

Recuperation Wing

0700 Hours

Romanovich strolled among the wounded. He paused to salute those soldiers who could sit up, and had quiet conversations with those more badly hurt.

"Lieutenant, when are we heading back out?"

"Sir, do you know who hit us?"

"Just give me a weapon, sir, I'm ready to get out there and fuck up whoever did this!"

Romanovich wished dearly that he could answer their questions, but he didn't know anymore than they did. He'd been off at his muster station when the fight occurred, only arriving on scene after the attackers had escaped and only bodies were left.

He did have his suspicions, though. Private Petrov still hadn't shown up, and Romanovich's gut told him that he likely never would. He was starting to regret very much not executing the prisoner when he had the chance.

"Lieutenant! Wait up!" Startled out of his thoughts, Romanovich whirled around. Behind him was a private, panting with his hands on his knees.

"Yes, private?"

"Sir… colonel… Volkov… wanted to see… you… sir!" The man had obviously gone to great efforts to catch up with him, so Romanovich spared him the dressing down about proper presentation and respect.

"Thank you, private. Did he say what he wanted to tell me?"

"No… sir… just said it… was urgent, sir."

"Very well, private. Dismissed." Romanovich turned on his heel and marched off to the base commandant's office. If he knew the colonel, he'd be occupying that room while the commandant was gone.

He wasn't disappointed. Colonel Volkov reclined in the commandant's leather backed chair, booted feet propped up on the vintage wooden desk, reading a paperback. Romanovich stood before him and snapped to textbook attention. "Sir!"

"At ease, lieutenant, at ease." Romanovich held the salute for half a second more, then dropped to parade rest.

"Sir, you wished to see me?" Volkov dog eared the book, set it aside, then sat up straight.

"Indeed, lieutenant." He folded his hands together and leaned forward on the desk. "I have a special task for your group."

"Sir?" Volkov smiled and reached into his desk. He extracted a sealed manila envelope and passed it across the table.

"You know the details of the incident by now." It wasn't a question so much as it was a statement. Romanovich nodded stiffly - he'd lost several good men. "Good. Then you know that a truck is missing as well." He nodded again, wondering where the colonel was going with this line of reasoning.

Volkov motioned to the envelope. "Go ahead and open it, lieutenant. Just keep in mind, everything said here is classified need to know. I'm sure you know the penalties for violating that." Romanovich broke the seal on the envelope and extracted the papers within. There were several photos of a truck, along with a strange device he vaguely recognized.

"That truck was taken during the incident. As per standard DCI procedures, it is outfitted with a radio beacon. We're not sure if the perpetrators forgot about the beacon, or whether they simply didn't know about it. In any case, they played right into our hands." Volkov pointed to one of the other papers in Romanovich's hands.

"DCI tracked the beacon until the coordinates listed on that paper. At that point, the beacon ceased transmitting, presumably due to the destruction of the truck. But, as you can see, the location of last transmission gives us a very good idea where they were headed."

Romanovich felt a smile working its way onto his face. "So you're saying…"

"Yes, lieutenant. Feeling up for a trip to Briggs?"

DMZ

Amestris-Drachma Border Region

0715 Hours

"And you're absolutely, one hundred percent, beyond a doubt, completely sure that you left nothing behind?"

"Yes, yes, come on! We have to get back to Briggs!"

"Yeah, get a move on, asshat. We need to get your passenger to the hospital. Besides, you're not out of hot water just yet, mate. Now, march." Private Jaeger gave Petrov a strong shove in the back, almost stumbling him. Petrov cast a baleful glance backwards, but was unable to do anything with his zip tied hands. He settled for examining the smoking remains of the truck one more time. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about the standard radio beacon in the truck until now.

"Alright, alright, I'm moving. Asshole." He added that last part under his breath. The group, now plus two members, trudged through the knee deep snow. Alphonse carried Riza, the reasoning being he'd be the last one to tire under the conditions and therefore was most suited to carry her.

"CP, this is Zulu 6! We are RTB, we have one wounded and one prisoner. Repeat, we have one wounded and one prisoner, requesting additional personnel to meet us on arrival, over!"

"Zulu 6, this is CP, roger that! Medical and security personnel are being dispatched now, they'll get home safe. CP, out!"

"Okay gentlemen, you know the tune, now dance to it! Double time!" They moved as quickly as they could through the snow, whatever trails they left behind quickly swallowed up by the falling white. They moved in a single column, spaced mere feet away from each other as so to not lose visual contact. Even with specialized gear, visibility was limited to not more than a few feet. People had been known to disappear even under better conditions.

Jaeger took point, his skill in tracking coming in handy to guide the group. Petrov came next, hands bound in front of him. Dawes followed, covering the point man and keeping an eye on Petrov. Edward and Alphonse trudged on in the middle, reason being that would be where they were most protected, buffered by the soldiers. Finally, Havoc brought up the rear, refusing to let Riza out of his sight.

They saw the headlights before they heard the sound of the engine. Relief was heralded by a large shape looming out of the storm, growing larger every second. A large, winter weather converted truck pulled up in front of them, tires throwing a plume of snow behind it. Two medics jumped out the back to meet them.

"Come on, get in! We'll get you back, you have priority with sickbay. Don't keep the docs waiting!" One of them accepted Riza's limp body from Alphonse, hoisting in her in a fireman's carry and nearly throwing her into the back of the truck. Havoc jumped in after her, followed by Petrov and Dawes. Edward and Alphonse climbed in last, along with the medics who immediately got to work in the suddenly cramped rear. Dawes took shotgun alongside the driver, ever vigilant for any threats.

"All bodies on board! Punch it!" The tires dug trenches into the ground as the vehicle lept forward. The medics worked feverishly with the limited supplies on hand, getting IVs going, applying burn dressings, antiseptic solutions, and bandaging whatever wounds they could get at. Havoc looked on as they worked, their faces bathed in a dim orange light from the solitary lantern. In the dim light, Riza looked even paler, even weaker. In his opinion, they couldn't get back to Briggs fast enough.

Fort Briggs

C Wing Sickbay

Intensive Care Unit

0735 Hours

"Prep surgery! Get IVs set up and ready to go!"

"All instruments sterilized and waiting!"

"Surgery bay is prepped, everything is ready to go!"

"Patient at Loading Bay 8!"

The C Wing Sickbay of Fort Briggs was the picture of controlled chaos. Surgeons and medics rushed around in a carefully choreographed dance. To an outside observer, it would have seemed random, frantic, even panicky but to the participants it was anything but. This was what they were trained to do, had done many times in the past. They knew the routine like a close family member. Everyone knew what to do, where to go, who's way to stay out of.

The moment the call had come down, a certain calm had settled over the sickbay. Without anything to do, a person began to think and when a person began to think, they began to worry. Worry about family, about friends, many in North City, now blanketed by the blizzard. But now, with a job to do and an urgent one at that, there was not time for worry and they embraced their duty like a long lost friend.

The double doors at the entrance of the sickbay burst open and a pair of soldiers rushed in, pushing a gurney. Instantly, medics swarmed the trolley, some connecting IVs, others pushing it towards surgery so fast the poor soldiers were simply left standing, hands grasping the air where half a second they'd gripped the handlebars. The two could only look at each other, shrug their shoulders helplessly, then trudge off to find a smoke. Or a drink. Or both.

Back in the ICU, the surgeons had managed to get Riza onto the table. There, they proceeded to cut away the clothes covering her more wounded areas. They paused when, in the process of cutting the uniform from her back, they saw the tattoo prominently sprawled across her skin, but professionalism took over and they continued working.

Back down in the loading bay, Havoc stood, torn between running after Riza or going to break the news to Roy. Dawes saved him by running off to the personnel quarters. Havoc looked after him for a second, then turned and broke into a flat out sprint, determined to reach the infirmary and break several world speed records in the process.

Fort Briggs

Personnel Quarters West

0740 Hours

"Mustang! Where the hell are you?!" Dawes said as he ran through the hallways, dodging soldiers and equipment. Several troopers lay flat on their asses behind him, staring at the ceiling and wondering what had just hit them.

"Mustang! Get your ass out h- oomph!" He was cut off as he slammed into another person, making both of them fall to the ground.

"What the- hey, Dawes! What the hell are you running for?!" Dawes looked up from rubbing his head and saw Breda, also picking himself and his equipment up from the ground.

"Looking for Mustang. Where is he?! There's something he needs to know!"

Breda raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? He's kind of busy, can it wait?"

"No, this needs to get to him right now!" Dawes' voice rose until it was nearly a shout. Breda backed up unconsciously, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Okay, okay, no need to shout. Here, he's in his temporary office, I can take you to him." Breda turned and jogged off towards the storage room Roy had appropriated as his office, Dawes hot on his heels. When they got there, Dawes gave only a perfunctory knock, not waiting for a reply before nearly kicking down the door.

"God!" Roy half-jumped out of his chair, fingers poised and ready to snap. He relaxed, but only slightly at the sight of a tired, harried Dawes, still dressed in cold weather gear. "What the hell, man?"

"No time, get to infirmary, fill you in on the way, move!" He grabbed Roy by the arm and pulled him out of the office. Roy shot Breda a questioning look, to which the man replied with only a befuddled shrug.

"Dawes, what the hell is this about?!"

"You know that lieutenant of yours? The one that went missing? Well, they found her!" The words hit Roy like a physical blow. He stopped in his tracks, causing Dawes to nearly trip over his own feet as he skidded to a halt in front of him "What?"

Roy shook his head, a tiny smirk on his face. "You know, you went a long, long way just to pull a prank. All of this? All the preparation? I got to say, it's a dick move if I ever saw one, but I must applaud the effort."

"The hell, sir?! What are you talking about? Havoc's waiting for you in the infirmary, come on!"

"Sorry, I'm not falling for that. Nice try, though. You can stop pretending now." Dawes growled in frustration, Mustang just wasn't getting it!

"Look, if I'm pulling a prank on you, I'll pay you… 100000 cenz. If I'm not, well, then I'm not. Come on man, just play along! For the money!" Roy couldn't deny that 100000 cenz was an attractive offer just to play along with this guy. Ah hell, what's the harm? Gets me away from paperwork anyways.

"Alright, lead the way."

"About fucking time, Mustang!" He turned and once again sprinted towards the sickbay, Roy following close on his heels. They slid down ladders, weaved their way through groups of soldiers and ran up stairs. In their wake was a field of toppled crates, scattered equipment, and stunned soldiers.

"We're… almost… there!" Dawes was in exceptionally good shape, a requirement for being posted out on the northern border, but a run through Fort Briggs would wind anyone. The two skidded to a halt just outside the infirmary.

"Made it!" Dawes pushed open the double doors, already searching for the room that held Mustang's treasured lieutenant.

Unfortunately a medic noticed them right then and came running. "What the hell are you two doing in the infirmary?! This is a closed area, no unauthorized personnel are allowed in here!"

"I-" Dawes started to speak up, but the medic was having none of it.

"Get the fuck out, you two, or I swear I'll-"

"Enough, soldier. These two are with me." Roy and Dawes whirled around to see none other than General Armstrong entering the infirmary, gaze ice-cold as ever.

"General! I-I didn't see you! These two are-"

"I don't care what they were doing, I'm giving them full access to the infirmary for the time being. Understood?"

"Yes, general!" The medic snapped a salute, shot a confused look at the pair, then jogged off to do medical things. Dawes and Roy stared, uncomprehendingly, at Armstrong.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there all day? Or are you going to do something worthwhile for once in your life and go see your lieutenant?"

"Come on man, let's go." Dawes took Roy by the arm and dragged him towards the room he'd pinpointed as the one Riza was in. He could tell through subtle hints such as the footprints on the floor, the way the doors swung as if opened recently, and the form of Havoc standing by the doors, yelling fruitlessly to be let in.

"Havoc, what is all this about?" Havoc spun around, then came to sharp attention when he realized who it was.

"Sir! You won't believe it, it's Riza! We found her out on patrol, the docs are trying to patch her up right now!" Something about the look in Havoc's eyes and the tone of his voice finally persuaded Roy that maybe there was something to this.

"Out of the way." He pushed through the door, knocked aside a pair of surprised medics, and saw, lying on the table, surrounded by surgeons-

"Riza."

Facility Gamma

Vehicle Bay

1000 Hours

"Are we all ready?"

"Da."

"Affirmative."

"One second… okay, ready for action."

"Very well."

Engines roaring, two trucks pulled out of the vehicle bay of Facility Gamma. As one, they turned, facing south.

Their cargo? A platoon of hardened, vengeful soldiers.

Their goal? Revenge, plain and simple.

Their destination? Fort Briggs.

"Let's go."

A/N: So, uh, yeah. *Grabs water bottle* Sorry about the wait. *Stuffs canned food in backpack* Um, life and stuff. *Picks up first aid kit and flashlight* So, this chapter isn't that good, sorry? *Pumps shotgun* Please help me improve it, I couldn't make it any better! *Steps through doorway* So if you need me… *Closes door* I'll be in my bunker! *Seals door just as angry mob hits*