Chapter 11: Westside Chaos

Mustang stared blankly up at the expanse of floorboards and joists above him and frowned. Last night, the wine he had drunk at Hughes's house had allowed him to slip into a fitful sleep almost the second that as his head had hit his pillow, but this morning, now awake with the rising sun streaming into his room through the light cotton curtains covering his windows, he was plagued by building doubt and a large dose of apprehension.

You idiot, Mustang scolded himself for what felt like the dozenth time that morning. He glanced to his right to the alarm-clock that rested on his bedside table. 06:57. Twenty-six hours.

Mustang expelled a tension filled breath and returned to staring at the ceiling. He was such a fool. Damn you, Hughes. Why couldn't you have said something sooner? Why'd you wait until it was too late? No amount of damage control can fix this now. He scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a frustrated growl. Were you hoping this would be the result of my stupidity all along? You knew I was miscalculating this from the beginning. You warned me that I was getting in over my head time and time again. I didn't listen. I just assumed that you meant you didn't think me capable of handling the Top Brass … and you never clarified.

It was with great effort that Mustang forced himself to push his sheets aside and actually make an attempt to get out of bed. He was getting nowhere with the never ending circle that had become his thoughts. Too late, his mind whispered to him. Far too late. Only one thing to do now. He fisted his hands against his knees and pushed himself to stand.

"No, I gave them my word," Mustang refuted, refusing to give into the urge to see the boys safe and as far away from the Military as they could possibly get. He couldn't go back on his word, not now. They would never forgive him, and he'd worked far too hard to gain Edward Elric's trust over the last three months, had given far too much of himself to the boys, had done far too much to secure all of their futures to break the deal that had been struck between them all those months ago. I'm not their father. It's not my job to protect them from the harsh realities of life. I gave them a choice, provided them with all the information that they requested, and they chose. They understand what will be asked of them with far more clarity than most recruits. I've made sure of it. No, what is done is already done. The way we move forward remains perfectly clear. "I am to be their commanding officer. That is all."

Mustang glanced to his alarm-clock once more. 07:00. It's going to be a long twenty-six hour, he thought with a weary sigh. Coffee – he needed coffee – coffee and a hot breakfast.

–

Ed and Al waved enthusiastically to General Elias, as they descended the front steps of the elderly man's townhouse. The day looked like it was going to be a good one. The sun was rising over the skyline of Central City without a single cloud marring the rich blue expanse of the early autumn sky, the morning fog having not been able to stick around long under the force of the September sun's warm, golden rays.

Ed grinned, as he set his sights on Westside. He and Al hadn't done much exploring across the river. Today that would change. His pace increased ever so slightly with his anticipation. With it being a Sunday, the hour was still early enough that not many people were out, meaning that he and Al would basically have the streets to themselves for the next hour or so.

"Back before dusk, lads," the general called after the retreating backs of the boys.

"We'll do our best, sir," Al yelled back over his shoulder, before hurrying to catch up with his brother. His grin matched Ed's grin, as he fell into step with him several paces up the walk.

"Up for an adventure, Al?" Ed asked, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

"You know it." Al punched Ed's flesh shoulder with his flesh hand and smirked, before dashing ahead of Ed. "Last one to cross the bridge has to drink an entire bottle of milk!"

"YOU DARE SPEAK BLASTPHAMY TO YOUR OLDER BROTHER, ALPHONSE ELRIC!" Ed yelled, his eyes going wide in horror.

Al laughed and put on a fraction of speed.

"Oh no you don't!" Ed ran after Al with a dozen different ways of ensure his victory flashing through his mind – most of which would be considered cheating by his younger brother, but he didn't care with what was at stake. "You will lose to you're older brother and drink your words!"

–

"Mustang," Mustang answered the phone that rested on the sideboard beneath the smallest window in his kitchen over looking the street on its third ring.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you so early and especially on the weekend, but you're needed at the office."

Mustang scowled at the cold, black receiver pressed to his ear, not recognizing the voice on the other end of the line. "On who's orders?"

"Major General Halcrow's, sir."

"And who exactly am I speaking with?" Mustang demanded, irritation creeping into his voice despite his attempt to remain civil. Dealing with Halcrow was at the very top of the list of thing that he did not want to do today.

"Lieutenant Del–"

Whatever the lieutenant's name was, Mustang didn't catch it, as the line chose that moment to fade out.

"– is an urgent matter. You need to come in now, sir," the lieutenant finished speaking.

"I'll be there in fifteen." Mustang sighed with resignation. He slammed the receiver back into its brass cradle, glaring at the offending object for all he was worth. The smell of scorched coffee reaching his nose a second later had him swearing up a storm. He crossed back over to his stove in three long strides, nearly slipping on the egg that he'd dropped on the tile when the phone had sounded its shrill ring. Today was not going to be a good day, not even remotely.

After cleaning up his egg mess and dumping his scorched coffee down the sink and setting the blackened pot to soak, Mustang trekked back to his bedroom in search of a clean uniform. His mood officially sour. This had better be good, Halcrow.

Less than five minutes later, the Flame Alchemist was dashing out of his apartment building's main doors and making a beeline for the car waiting for him.

From the time that Mustang heard the BANG! to the moment that he registered the flare of acute agony spreading across his chest, he was already on the ground, his body sprawled out on the stone steps leading up to his building and metallic red pooling around him. He ears rung and his eyes were hazy with the onslaught of the adrenaline shooting through him. The last thing to fill his vision before he succumbed to the nothingness encroaching upon his daze, pain filled mind was his own, gloved hands covered in blood.

–

"I win!" Ed declared, clutching the stitch in his side and panting almost too heavily for Al to make out his triumphant exclamation, especially considering that Al was having difficulty catching his own breath and was panting just as heavy, doubled over a few paces short of his brother. The bridge to Westside had been deceptively far.

"L-let's rest a minute," Al wheezed and stumbled over to crumple down on one of the chairs outside of Kitra's Bakery, a shop that was a mere few steps off of the bridge.

Ed grunted and slumped into the seat opposite Al, letting his head fall forward onto the glassed topped table between them.

The brothers sat in amicable silence, as they regained control of their breathing and appreciated the crisp morning air wafting against their heated flesh.

BANG!

Ed and Al both started. The sound wasn't close, but it was close enough to be heard and to cause alarm.

"What was that?" Ed jerked up and twisted in his chair to look down the street, his eyes zeroing in on the direction the noise had come from.

"A car back firing," Al said hopefully.

"I don't think so, Al." Ed's eyes narrowed and he stood up, his back straightening in a way that said he meant business and their fun was at its end. "Come on. Let's check it out."

Al hesitated for but a moment before nodding his ascent and standing as well.

The brother's weren't the only ones to be drawn by the shot. As the two boys hurried up the street at a jog, more and more people began to pour out onto the sidewalk looking for the source of the disturbance, while spreading speculation amongst their neighbors.

"That way!" Ed yelled, as a two MP cars and an ambulance cut across the intersection ahead of them and sped down a side street – lights flashing and sirens blaring.

"This way, brother," Al said and pulled Ed towards the alley to their left instead. "It will be quicker."

Ed agreed. With all the people flooding the streets, jostling a path was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Sorry. Excuse us," Al said, while none-too-rudely shoving his way into the alley with Ed following a very close step behind him.

They broke into a run once they were free and clear of the crowd, their booted steps echoing in the vacant, narrow space. They had nearly made it halfway up the still heavily shaded corridor when a dark figure passing across the bright sky above them. Ed skidded to a stop. Al halted a pace behind him, his face turned upwards as well.

"Did you see that?" Ed pointed from the edge of the roof to their right to the brick precipice to their left.

"Hmm," Al confirmed. "And that was no bird, brother."

"Are you thinking what I'm think?" Ed asked, looking to Al.

A gun shot and now someone was fleeing away from the disturbance across the roof tops.

Al clapped his hands together, lighting the alley with alchemy's blue hue. "I am," he said with determination in his eyes.

"Then let's do this," Ed said, clapping his hands together as well and slamming his palms to the cool, dewy pavement beneath his and his brother's feet in perfect time with Al.

The brother's rose from the earth on pillars of stone, their alchemy catapulting them up and out of the alley. At the opportune moment, the boys launched themselves onto the roof that they had seen the dark figure jump to and released their alchemy. The pillars that they had created crumbled back to the pavement below.

"There!" Ed cried, seeing the dark figure leaping from the next building. "He's headed for the river."

Neither boy hesitated as they gave chase, both flying across the gap between the building that they had landed on and the one the dark figure had just launched himself from with speed and agility that was a testimony to their training.

–

"The Hughes residence."

The lieutenant colonel heard his wife answer the phone. His daughter grabbing his finger and sucking it into her mouth, however, reclaimed his attention in a matter of seconds and he paid no further mind to his wife's conversation, as he resumed his assigned task of feeding his adorable, little princess her breakfast.

"Open up," the father said gently, smiling lovingly at his daughter. "That's it. Chugga … chugga … choo … choo," he mimicked the sounds of a train as he brought a spoon full of applesauce to her awaiting mouth. At the last moment, she giggled, causing the applesauce to go everywhere but where it was supposed to. The father simply looked upon his now messy little girl with adoration and pride.

Upon dipping the spoon back into the applesauce, Maes Hughes felt his wife's hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"Maes, dear."

The quaver in his wife's voice broke Hughes out of his happy world of Elicia filled bliss like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Forgetting the applesauce, he turned in his chair and looked up at his wife. "What's wrong?" he asked urgently, looking to her with expectation and a touch of apprehension. He knew that tone and it never meant anything good.

Gracia knelt down and took her husband's hands into hers. "Th-that was Breda just now." She swallowed hard and Hughes could tell that she was putting all the strength that he so loved about her into holding back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes.

Roy. Fear struck Hughes at his very core, as he watched his wife try and try again to form the words, knowing what she was going to say. It's Roy. "Is he going … will he be … ?" He could bring himself to ask or even considered whether his friend was alive or not. Roy just had to be, had to be alive even if he had been hurt badly somehow. He couldn't accept that he wasn't.

Gracia's hands tightened on her husband's hands, as if her meager hold would be enough to keep him grounded, to prevent him from bolting out their apartment door once she relayed what Breda had told her. "It's t-too soon to know. It was … it just happened. Breda said something a-about the ELF."

As his wife uttered the accursed name, it took everything Hughes had not to break contact with her and charge out of their apartment with the intent of hunting down every last bastard associated with the Eastern Liberation Front and bring them to his own personal brand of justice. He had told Roy not to take their threat lightly, had warned him that the ELF was far more dangerous than what Roy believed them to be. We should have shut them down back with Petro's capture.

"Did Breda say what hospital?" Hughes asked, instead forcing his mind to remain focused on Roy and away from the dark thoughts swirling in his mind and forming into workable operations.

"Westside General, at least until they can get him stabilized," Gracia said, a single tear escaping the corner of her eye and trickling down her cheek. "But, Maes, he's bad … really bad. You need to prepare yourse–"

"Don't," Hughes forced out around the tightness in his throat, pinning his wife with a pleading look. He couldn't consider it. He just couldn't. A world without … No! No – never! Not while I'm still here. You made me a promise, Roy, and I made you one in return. You can't … not yet.

"Okay," Gracia said softly and reached up to wipe away the tears cutting a path down her husbands face.

"Ooo … Ooo ..." Elicia cooed at her parents and beat her little fists on the surface of her highchair, demanding the rest of her breakfast and completely oblivious to the danger her Uncle Roy was in.

Hughes shut his eyes and put every bit of strength that he had towards reeling in his emotions. "I've to go," he said and reopened his eyes. His wife smiled sadly at him with understanding.

–

The explosion rocked seven city blocks.

Ed didn't give a shit how far the explosion was felt or what sort of attention it attracted. The bastard was a fucking alchemist!

Ed was forced to launch himself to his left with a pain filled grunt. He press his back flat against a large chunk of cement that had rebar sticking out of it every which way, only just avoiding the hiss of hot whip like air particles that would have easily cut through him if he had remained sprawl out in the debris as he had been. "Al!" he yelled, his vision cloud and his breath choked by the dust swirling around him.

"Fine, brother," Al's blessed voice shouted back to him from somewhere off to his right.

Fleeing footsteps sounding through the knock and fall of still shifting rumble, ones that were much too heavy to belong to Al, had Ed leaping over a pile of plaster and wood framing in pursuit of their opponent. Like hell I'm letting the bastard get away now. Quieter footsteps from his right and the appearance of Al at his side freed him from the lingering worry he felt for his brother. Al was just fine, a little bruised and had a small gash on his forehead, but no worse than his own state. It would take more than bring down a building beneath them to do them in. Teacher had trained them well.

"Bastard's an alchemist!" Ed growled, as they skidded around a portion of wall that had somehow remained standing.

Surprise flashed across Al's face, his feet flying over the unstable debris with only the slightest difficulty and easily keeping pace with his brother. "That wasn't you?" he asked, referring to the explosion that had just ripped the building right out from under them.

–

Hughes swore and threw his arm out in front of him to brace himself against the seat in front of him, as his car came to a screeching stop. He had felt the explosion moments ago and had known that they were traveling towards it, as the dust cloud rising into the sky was easy to spot, but the sudden stop upon rounding the corner of Aberdeen St. to take Westside Bridge wasn't expected. He hadn't thought the explosion had been that close.

Looking out the windshield and towards the bridge, Hughes realized that they hadn't stopped for the explosion at all. Somehow, the sight of two young men – their blond hair flying as furiously through the air as the boys themselves – locked in pursuit of a man dressed entirely in black, all three making their way down the center of Westside Bridge, didn't surprise him in the least. He hurried out of the car and onto the pavement, barking orders at his sergeant to ready his weapon and that the man in black was their target. He had no sooner gave the order to protect the Elric brothers at all cost when a second explosion rocked the area and he was thrown backwards and landed half skidding, half rolling across the pavement. He pressed himself flat to the ground and covered his head with his hands and arms the best he could, as the vehicle he'd been in a short minute ago flew over him, missing him by mere inches and causing his heart to skip several beats.

The military car burst into flames upon impacting the pavement on the other side of the lieutenant colonel.

Hughes groaned, feeling his entire body aching with the abuse it had just suffered. Survival drove him to push himself up on to his hands and knees and crawl with speed he was hardly capable of at the moment towards the shelter of a paper box. He gritted his teeth against the particularly sharp pain shooting up his wrist that foretold of a least one broken bone for sure.

"Brosh!" Hughes bellowed.

"Sir!" the lieutenant colonel only just made out through the ringing in his ears, before the car's gas tank caught alight. The resulting explosion sent flames out and upwards with shrapnel from the car's decimated frame flying away from the epicenter in a radial pattern. Hughes prayed that Sergeant Brosh had found cover, as he tucked his head against his knees and pressed back against the paper box in an attempt to protect himself the best he could, his world shaking and his body assaulted with the percussions of a blast for the third time in under five minutes.

–

Al clapped his hands and dove for the ground. A wall of stone rose from the pavement. He had barely thrown himself against it and braced for impact when he felt his wall shutter under the strain of the unknown alchemist's assault. He looked to his brother on the other side of the narrow bridge, Ed just feet to his left with his own wall protecting his back from the wave of hot explosive air that would have stripped the skin right off of their bodies had they been exposed to it.

"This isn't working," Al said only loud enough for Ed to hear him.

"I know." Ed gritted his teeth. "He's quick, much too quick to be drawing a circle every time. I think I saw something on his gloves. If we could just get close en–"

BOOM!

The sound of crunching metal and screams of alarm had Al's fists clenching. This is getting dangerous for everybody. He doesn't care who he hurts.

BOOOOM!

A second explosion flowed the first with barely five breaths in between. It shook the ground beneath their feet with a force much greater than the first.

Al winced. Who ever they were up against was strong, very strong. He met his brother's troubled, yet determined gaze and knew right then that they were going to take down this guy no matter what it took. He nodded, giving his silent assent. He could hear the MP's closing in on their location. Whatever they did, they were going to have to be quick about it, or more people were about to get hurt.

Ed signaled for Al to cover him, a plan clear in his mind. With caution, Al pocked his head around his wall, trusting his brother to know what he was doing. Their opponent was almost to the opposite end of the bridge, making for a final escape.

"Not today," Al said fiercely and slammed his hands to the pavement. As he did so, Ed rushed past him with all the speed that he possessed. Al forced his mind to concentrate on the alchemical energy and to not worry about the crazy plan his brother was about to execute. The pavement rippled, as the blue energy of his alchemy licked along its surface. In the passing of a single second, his alchemy had outstripped their fleeing opponent. In the next, the remain length of bridge destabilized and collapsed into the rushing waters below, leaving the other alchemist with nowhere to run.

Al felt a distinct sense of satisfaction at hearing the yell of surprise and frustration rip from the alchemist's throat. Not wasting any time, he darted forward, intent on closing the distance between him and the alchemist and catching up to Ed.

As the alchemist turned back from the still crumbling ledge of the bridge, Al knew what he was going to do. He dropped and slammed his hand to the pavement without sparing a thought towards the alchemist's attack, solely focusing on his and his brother's defense. A wall rose up to protect not only him, but Ed as well.

Ed never slowed, even as the wall protecting them cracked and nearly crumbled with the force of the attack. It was then that Al knew what his brother was planning. He sucked in a sharp breath and held it, hoping Ed was going to be quick enough. He counted his brother's steps, and at the precise moment that wouldn't be too soon, yet not too late, he reversed his transmutation.

Ed's battle cry was fierce, as he leaped from the top of the receding wall and launched himself at the alchemist, who raised his right hand in retaliation.

Al felt his heart stutter in his chest, his eyes wide and fearful and glued on the closing distance between his brother and the alchemist. It was going to be close, very close.

CRACK! Automail met flesh and bone.

Al released a jagged breath, never remembering feeling so relieved in his life. Seeing his brother transmute his automail arm into a blade, as the alchemist stumble back dumbly with blood streaming from his now thoroughly crushed nose and purple bruises already forming around his surprised, horrified eyes, prompted Al to join the fight. He transmuted his own automail arm into a blade, as he rushed forward.

As he watched Ed strike out at the alchemist and the alchemist's again attempt to retaliate with alchemy, Al knew it was going to be a short fight. As long as neither he nor Ed gave the man time to finish his transmutation, they had him.

The following fight was as swift as Al had predicted with Al attacking the moment Ed finished his own attack and Ed attacking the second Al let up in his attack. Their final blow was Ed kicking the man in the chest and sending him stumbling in Al's direction. Al ushered the alchemist into unconsciousness with a well timed round house kick to the temple. A follow up punch from Ed with his automail fist made sure that the man was down and out of the fight.

It wasn't until it was all over that either boy realized the audience they had garnered. MP's, enlisted men, officers of various ranks, and curious civilians had all gathered at the ends of the bridge and along the river with more people flooding the area by the second.