Pandora's Revenge (Gen, PG-13 this chapter)
So, writing for F vs A. Somehow, wound up back in the Pandoraverse O.o; Will try again for something sane later; for now it is time to write like another 12000 words of crack <3
Title: Pandora's Revenge
Genre: Fluff, crack, humor
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Warning: OMFG, plot! And plot devices XD
He stepped across the threshold precisely at four, accompanied still by two of the military guard. Alphonse whistled lowly. The anteroom to the inner chambers was impressive as always, glittering today with a sculpture that had to cost several hundred million cens - probably a gift from some diplomat or two. The guards announced him, saluted politely, and opened the doors for him as if he were royalty. Alphonse smiled and waved, as always touched by the show. Admittedly, there were times when he did envy his brother’s job. Where he, the self-made developer, had fought tooth and nail to get a nice office on the corner, Edward got all this by default. And yes, of course, it was his choice, he’d made the resolution to get promoted the usual way…but after a full day with Mr. Pug, he had to concede that an office where “working late” meant “going out drinking” sounded pretty. damn. good.
Of course, the benefit of Mr. Pug’s office was, he never walked into pure bedlam and chaos. Or Distinguished Colonel Havoc’s back.
“Oh hey, Little Boss!” Colonel Havoc always called him that, even though he had now long outgrown it. He stepped aside and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”
I was announced, Alphonse thought, but he really couldn’t blame him. The Fuhrer’s office was filled with the roar of far too many people having far too many conversations all at exactly the same time, some whispering frantically in desperate debate, others at near-shouting level. It was the very picture of a busy office, if you didn’t notice the part where the denizens were primarily discussing the intricate details of poker, and the legalities of asking a girl a girl to give head on the third date. Alphonse shook his head. Yes, the Amestrian government ran itself. Alphonse just wasn’t sure how.
Second-in-command Hawkeye probably had something to do with that, he figured. He noticed an appreciable drop in the din as she marched toward him.
“Good afternoon, Alphonse.” She smiled, as smooth and competent as ever, and he couldn’t help but beam back at her. Her presence had that effect on people, powerful and calming.
“What’s going on today?” Alphonse asked, to both Hawkeye and Havoc.
“Not a whole lot.” The Second replied, though the twinkle in her eye belied some quiet personal amusement. “It’s a tad slow. We’re almost through with the new trade negotiations with Drachma. Fuery seems to have achieved a new record for number of pencils stuck in the ceiling, Falman has regaled us all repeatedly with stories of his new girlfriend, and -“
“- and the big man almost got your brother talked into this DRESS.” Havoc crowed, interrupting. Alphonse whipped his head toward the man and stared.
“Yeah, I’m serious. A DRESS.”
“How late were they 'working'?” Alphonse asked immediately.
“Not at all, actually.” Hawkeye said. She seemed vaguely put out, as if she’d wanted to be the one to let Alphonse in. “The office has been dry since last month’s little fishing expedition, as I’m sure you recall.”
Havoc and Alphonse both paled at that one. Edward could actually hold his own when they were out drinking beer; too bad no one had been drinking beer on that particular occasion. Havoc had supplied the liquor for an impromptu barbeque by the canal, and while Edward’s weakness to gin was now legendary, it hadn’t been known THEN - not until he tried to strip and go swimming. Edward still claimed the fish had been taunting him. Alphonse still claimed his brother would have drowned if the water hadn’t been six inches deep. (To which of course some smart ass had said that Edward was already in over his head, and then they’d ALL gotten doused.)
“Well, it still happened.” Havoc offered, lamely. “They’re going on about it right now.”
Alphonse nodded, still rather at a loss. He could hear his brother’s voice a little, now that he was listening for it; it was coming from the Fuhrer’s private office to the left. Edward sounded like he was railing.
“But he didn’t get him IN the dress.” It was important he know what he was about to be up against.
“No, not yet.” Havoc affirmed. “But we’ve got a pretty good pool going.”
“Odds?” Alphonse asked, though he felt a bit guilty. As Edward’s one and only brother, it really was his duty not to constantly bet against him. The trouble was Edward just made it so easy.
“No, you’re shut out of this one.” Havoc offered a pained grimace. “Sorry. Too much chance you might fix it.”
“I believe the current situation directly relates to the reason you have been summoned, which is why it is most pressing you report to the Fuhrer immediately,” Hawkeye added, with a sharp look toward her subordinate, and Havoc suddenly seemed to remember a more pressing engagement.
“Alphonse, if you would be so kind…” She gestured toward the closed executive office door.
“Sure.” Alphonse said, though no, no of course he was not ready. How did anyone survive working here? He paused to admire the elegant carving on the teakwood of the Fuhrer’s office door. It was rather lovely craftsmanship, an artistic depiction of a salamander array - now sporting a spurious fire-breathing dragon and a rather rude limerick about Amestris’s “Flaming Fuhrer”, courtesy, he was sure, of his wayward older brother. No one but Edward could transmute that much detail into a slur on someone’s sexual prowess. Even the dragon was beautiful in its ugliness.
Alright, brother. He thought, gritting his teeth. Here I come, to save your bacon… Really, he should be knighted for his efforts. Nobody else would put up with this for so long. After all, Edward got paid to do professionally what he’d already been naturally doing for years: getting himself into ridiculous amounts of trouble.
The shouting stopped as soon as he pushed the door open; his brother was rant-prone, but he did respect some boundaries. He took a quick look for appraisal purposes, but both Edward and Mustang seemed to be whole. There was no dress in sight. He wondered if the other two had been pulling his leg.
“Hello, Alphonse.” The Fuhrer purred quietly. He was sitting behind his desk, same as always, impeccable as ever in his dark blue dress uniform.
“Tell me, which do you think is Fullmetal’s color? Black, or blue? I think we’ve already determined the style.”
“I’ll show YOU black and blue!” His brother snapped back, though he looked vaguely guilty, and Alphonse sighed. Okay, not pulling his leg after all.
“Sir, what’s this all about?”
“A discussion of tactics, Alphonse. Your brother here-“ The Fuhrer nodded toward Edward, who was shifting back and forth on the couch like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, “-simply insisted I give him this mission. Without asking for any of the details, of course. Very brave of him, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s not my fault Intel’s totally incompetent!” Edward flailed. “I wouldn’t trust one of the new guys to tell an array from a tablecloth! Where the hell did you get them, out of nursery school?”
“Fullmetal, I know this might be hard to believe, but just because someone doesn’t share your passion for advanced hermetic theory does NOT mean they are, and I quote, ‘dumb as a box of rocks.’”
“Bullshit! I asked perfectly reasonable questions-”
“You grilled Officer Sharp about Goddard’s Fallacy - which has never been printed in anything but Ancient Xerxian, might I remind you - until she left crying.”
“Well? Grow a thicker damn skin! She’s gonna go undercover as an alchemist on my watch, she better be one goddamn good alchemist!”
“Wait…brother, you’re working with Intel?!” Alphonse sputtered.
Edward fixed him with a particularly baleful gaze. “Yeah?”
Alphonse couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“What!?” Edward looked highly insulted.
“Oh, brother...it’s just…YOU? Undercover? Brother, you couldn’t keep a low profile for five seconds.”
“Yes I can!” Edward snarled, then seemed to think the better of it.
“See what I mean?”
“Dammit Al, you’re suppose to be on MY side here-“
The Fuhrer cleared his throat rather pointedly, and they both paused.
“At any rate, Alphonse. That was actually what I had called you in here to discuss. You see, I have need for an undercover officer with alchemical knowledge-“
“-I already said, I’ll DO it-!”
“---who is not your brother.”
“Why?” Alphonse asked weakly.
The Fuhrer pushed away from his desk.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there have been reports that fighting has escalated between Drachma and the rebel state of Czygia. The rebels have apparently settled into the northern range of mountains, close to our border at Briggs; we’ve been hearing a lot from that province. What hasn’t been on the airwaves - and this is classified - is that they’ve been using some advanced alchemical methods to secure their position. Amestrian alchemy. Proprietary alchemy.”
“You think someone is selling state secrets?”
“I don’t think so, I know so.” The Fuhrer went on, pacing about in front of his window; exactly the habit that in days of the New Government might have gotten him killed. “I also have reason to believe we know whom to pin it on. Are you familiar with Representative Chorrol from Dublith?”
“Not particularly.” Alphonse admitted. To be honest, he kept only a passing eye on the ever changing landscape of Parliament, the legislative branch of the Amestrian government.
“He’s one of the old guard who got bought off with a political position when the new government formed.” Mustang’s upper lip curled, showing exactly what he thought about that. “Got a lot of political capital to burn still, unfortunately. His actual setup is likely small potatoes, but he’s a slippery one. We managed to get close enough to pin a few of his haunts, then our operatives mysteriously started getting fed misinformation, from somewhere inside the bureau itself. And someone must have told Chorrol we’re on to him, because he disappeared off the radar entirely for a couple months. The internal mole hunt is still ongoing-“
“Sheska’s on it.” Edward clarified from the couch. “I put her to work cross-checking records this morning. If anybody made any unusual movements within the past couple years, she’ll catch it.”
“-but that could take a while, and in the meantime we have a rather golden opportunity.” Mustang continued, shooting Edward a dirty look for interrupting him. “As I said, Chorrol knows we’re on to him, but I suspect that he’s also getting desperate. He’s financing a new wing to his little mansion right now, you see, and I know for a fact he doesn’t get paid enough to support that venture from his salary alone. I put a little pressure on some on his debtors to get them to pester him-“
Edward stretched out languidly along the couch and waved his right arm. “Pressure courtesy of Rockbell automail.”
“Fullmetal, could you be quiet for one second?!”
“Yeah, I could be…” The grin on Edward’s face clearly said that wouldn’t be any fun, though.
“So where do I come in?” Alphonse took the opportunity to ask.
“Alphonse. Right. Well, essentially, we finally have the chance to set up a proper sting. I’ve learned, from a reliable source close to this office, that Chorrol is going to be entertaining some of the departing Drachman diplomats at a private party, Thursday night. I also have reason to believe he will be looking to make a trade. I was hoping you might be able to pose as a seller for me.”
“Absolutely NOT.” Edward piped up. “Far too dangerous.”
Mustang scowled.
“Which is why, Edward, I told you he would not be without backup. The operation is two-pronged regardless. It wouldn’t be enough just to pin this on Chorrol; we need to nail his buyer, too. I have reason to believe Chorrol’s man in Czygia is actually Drachman native, someone fairly high up. If he’s contacting him through one of Drachma’s trade negotiation guys, then that takes some of the burden off Amestris. I mean, do you know what it would look like if it came out that Amestrian arrays were what was killing Drachman soldiers?”
Alphonse shuddered. Yes, yes, he could picture it. The Drachman people were not exactly known for their ability to forgive and forget. (Alphonse blamed the tundra culture, personally. In a land where the only thing to do all winter was hole up and drink, it was pretty easy to hang onto a grudge.)
“We avoided war with them once, I’m not going to damage relations now. If we can pin this as much on one of their guys as ours, Kaiser Reinhart will treat it as a stalemate. It’s my intention to kill this as soon as humanly possible, and if we can get both sides of the information drain, all the better.”
“Alright…” Alphonse said cautiously. His brother was glowering at him protectively, and at least on this occasion he could see the reason. “I can understand the importance, of course. But with all due respect, sir, wouldn’t it be better to have an actual operative…?”
The Fuhrer turned and pinned him beneath that one-eyed gaze, made him feel small. Somehow, even with only half its power, the legendary Mustang glare was just as effective as it had ever been.
“I’ve considered it. The problem is, Fullarmor-“ Mentally, Alphonse cringed. He hated that stupid title “-there’s a pretty short list of operatives we both feel can be trusted, and who Chorrol wouldn’t be suspicious of. He’s got a man on the inside, remember. The best choice would be someone no longer on active, official duty, and someone he has reason to trust.”
Alphonse felt something sink in his stomach.
“Why would he have reason to trust ME?”
Mustang favored him with a short, sad look.
“Because, Alphonse. Some of the construction arrays that have been smuggled out of the country had your signature all over them.”
WHAT?
“Do you remember that suspended bridging project you did for Fleet Street? Our intelligence reported there are large bridges just like it up in the Northern mountains now, complete with the same encrypted keys. The rebels are using them to transport troops and supplies right over the Drachman forces’ heads. That one array sequence alone is fueling the war.”
Alphonse staggered, suddenly needing very much to sit. He didn’t, because his brother was already on the couch, but he wanted very much to.
That array sequence is fueling the war.
“And I still say it’s too damned dangerous.” Edward snarled. “Let ME do it, bastard, I can sneak my way in; I can pretend to be him if you want, this kind of shit is my damn job-“
“That’s odd, Fullmetal,” the Fuhrer drawled, “From your performance lately, I could have sworn your job was to lie about my office and eat vinegar crisps.”
“It’s not funny, you bastard!” Edward was really getting into it now. He even sprung to his feet. “This is my little BROTHER you’re talking about, and if you’re SERIOUS about using him, then to hell with the dress, I’ll have you wear your GUTS for garters-“
“I’ll do it.” Alphonse said quietly.
“What?!” Edward squeaked. He spun around so fast he nearly fell over.
“I said, I’ll do it.” Alphonse repeated. His voice remained quiet, but his insides were boiling. “I made those arrays so people could get to market. Not so they could kill people.”
“Al…” Edward looked stricken.
“I’ve done it before, brother.” He reminded his sibling sternly. “I followed you around for years. I know damn well what I’m getting myself into.”
“Which is part of the reason I asked for you, Fullarmor.” The Fuhrer interjected smoothly. “I know you can handle it. Even if you haven’t been on active duty in recent months, you were always one of the best.”
“But not official!” Edward protested. “Al, you were-big, then; it was different.”
“And the only reason he didn’t get his title five years ago was that he couldn’t risk a physical.” Mustang pointed out. “Edward, your brother was always State Alchemist material. He passed the Exam five points higher than you.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me.” Edward groused. Alphonse couldn’t help but smile. Trust his brother to still be sore about that.
“Edward, the decision stands. The People’s Alchemist is well known throughout the middle continent as a loyalist; do you honestly think you could sell yourself as turning traitor? Be honest with me, here.”
“Well no, but-“
“And you've already ran off all the other low-profile operatives, because you decided they were incompetent with the alchemical side. Look, Alphonse’s entire existence has been shrouded in secrecy. His supervisor never even put the Elric name on his papers.”
“He didn’t?” Alphonse interrupted.
“No.” Mustang shuffled something in the piles on his desk. “He put your name on the roster as A.E. Pug, so even where you’ve initialed A.E. in your rune signature-“
“…that absolute bastard.” If Alphonse had been boiling before, he was ready to explode now.
“Pardon?” Even the Fuhrer looked taken aback.
“That complete, absolute, bastard.” Alphonse railed. “You know what HIS first name is? ‘Andrew Eugene’. I’ll bet HE’S the reason I didn’t get my damn quarterly bonus! I bet he’s taking been credit for every cotton-picking array I’ve etched for the last six months!”
Edward looking like he was seething now, too. “Fucker!!!”
“Yeah, I’d like to see him wiggle his way out of THAT one.” Alphonse hissed. “I can’t believe him, he acted like he was doing me such a big favor giving me a new office…this is just…ARGH!”
The Fuhrer smiled, his legendary composure seeming to have restored itself. “I take it then you wouldn’t be averse to the thought of active duty?”
“Hell no!”
“Excellent. I can arrange to have you briefed at 09:00 tomorrow - and actually, if you wouldn’t mind having it out with your boss tonight, that would really be the perfect cover.”
“Mind!? I assure you, I’d be glad to!”
“Just do it somewhere public, where others are sure to hear you; I’ll try to get the word out you’re disgruntled. Chorrol won’t have a reason to question you at all, then. Have it out with him and quit, it’ll work out perfectly.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up!” Edward yelped. “I already said, I don’t want you doing this-“
“-and this is MY LIFE, brother, and where do you get off telling me what I can and cannot do!?” Alphonse coiled, and struck deep. “Did it ever occur to you that I am not five years old anymore? Or do you really think so little of me?”
An old, long-standing argument. Alphonse didn’t need to keep going for Edward to know what came next. His brother stood there, regarded him for one long, tense moment.
If I can’t survive without your approval, am I a person at all?
“Fine.” Edward huffed finally. “You can take the damn job, whatever. I’m just sure as hell coming with you.”
“…which brings me back to the previous point, Fullmetal.” The Fuhrer sighed. “You really, honestly, can’t. There are only a limited amount of positions you could take that could keep you close to Alphonse, and you really aren’t suited for any of them. Except the guise you don’t want.”
“I could be a busboy!” Edward protested.
“And I already told you, Madame Yao’s does not USE busboys. Fullmetal, I know this is hard to believe, but there are times when your naivety precedes you.”
Belatedly, warning bells went off in Alphonse’s head.
“…sir, just what kind of place is this party taking place at?”
“A very famous one.” Mustang replied smoothly. “Very exclusive. It’s quite popular in the upper echelons.”
Alphonse was skeptical. “And how does that tie into my brother in a dress?”
Edward blanched.
“Al! How did you hear about that?!”
“Word gets around.” Alphonse said. “Again, sir - what kind of place is Madame Yao’s?” He was through playing softball. “Because I don’t work like my brother. I like to look before I leap. If I don’t get a straight answer, you don’t get an operative.”
Mustang dropped the act. “Alright. Madame Yao’s is…” He looked momentarily pained. “Alphonse, you have to understand that things didn’t always work the way they do now. The old regime...well, let’s just say that diplomacy, when it happened at all, was a very different sort of ballgame.”
“Okay…”
“And Drachma, well…when Drachman representatives come here, they still expect a certain level of…service. They’re used to after-hours entertainment…food, drinks…fine company…”
Alphonse nodded. He was starting to get the picture. A rather nasty picture.
“So you take the guys out, get them plastered, give them…comfort women?!” He yelped. It felt like his face was on fire. “You want my brother to…!?”
“No,” the Fuhrer said quickly. “Not exactly. Madame Yao’s employs girls in all sorts of capacities - as her bartenders, her bouncers, her all-purpose entertainers. She says they’re her ‘attendants’, and hosts parties styled like a Xingian high court. She’s a particular lady, she doesn’t like breaking the illusion.”
Alphonse boggled. “WHAT illusion? That she’s running a…” His mind tripped over words like “whorehouse” and “bordello”, fell into the last one. “A house of--of ill repute?”
Edward snickered loudly at that one. Mustang looked offended.
“It’s a little higher class than that, Alphonse. Really. The girls are paid entertainers. It’s not necessarily about sex.”
“And I suppose you’ve been there.” He said bitterly. “’Casing the place’ for my brother, I’m sure.”
“No, actually.” The Fuhrer said. “I haven’t. Alphonse, the Amestrian government hasn’t officially endorsed entertainment like this since the Parliament formed. It counts as a bribe now. Chorrol is doing this one hundred percent off the record, no doubt ready to claim that it’s a magical coincidence that the diplomats just happened to show up when he was there.” Mustang rolled his eye.
“Won’t it cause a scandal?” Alphonse asked. “Why don’t you just take him out for it?”
“Like anyone cares about dirty politics.” Edward snorted. “Rosencraft didn’t get booted when he whored his wife out to that Cretan prince; you think anybody’s gonna give a shit about a little clubbing?”
“Not to mention that Madame Yao has friends in rather high places still.” Mustang pointed out. “I have no doubt she’d call them in to avoid any untoward attention. Nor does it really get at the real problem, which is the array trafficking. Your mission, should you still choose to accept it, is just to get in and make the trade. That’s all. The other operative’s mission would be to watch your back and keep an eye on the Drachman delegation. If you could get Chorrol to set up a meet with them directly of course that would be ideal, but I highly doubt any middleman worth his salt would let his seller meet the buyer. I suspect someone may just have to tail him instead. And to achieve that level of mobility, the operative would have to either be one of Yao’s girls themselves, or an official escort - she allows them in, for a price, if they fit with her theme.”
He eyed Edward exasperatedly. “This is where it would be nice if a certain someone would relent, one way or the other. I told you, Fullmetal; either you let a female officer handle it, or you’re going to have to do it yourself.”
“I am not sending some Intel HALF-WIT in with my brother!” Edward huffed. “Have your guys find someone competent.”
“I suspect with your standards, Fullmetal, we’d never find anyone at all.”
“So wait,” Alphonse said, still trying to wrap his head around the idea. “You’re suggesting…my brother…go undercover…in a dress.”
“Yes,” said Mustang, completely serious.
“Cause he’s a bastard,” added Edward.
Normally Alphonse didn’t like to take advantage of their relationship to the Fuhrer, but in this case he really couldn’t help himself. Not many men had the ability to laugh in the Fuhrer’s face. Alphonse exercised it now.
“You’re kidding…right?”
“If you can think of a better idea, I’d like to hear it.” Mustang said. “A bodyguard would be rather suspicious. You could sell that only until he had to operate autonomously.”
“I keep saying, busboy!” Edward offered again. “Everyone's always hard up for busboys, I could talk my way around that chicks-only thing.”
“…do I have to put my gloves on?” The Fuhrer sighed. “Really Edward, it’s your choice. I gave you your options. We can either work this out, or I can call Officer Sharp back.”
“I think you’d better.” Alphonse said. “Brother, I know it’s a nice thought- that you want to come help me, that is -“ he amended hastily, seeing the LOOK on his sibling’s face. “But you can’t convince me for a second this would end in anything but disaster! No one in their right mind would mistake you for a woman.”
“Thanks,” Edward smirked, preening visibly, flexing a bicep. Alphonse rolled his eyes.
“Because the minute you opened your mouth, they’d know that something was off.” Alphonse couldn’t resist adding. “And you move about as gracefully as a water buffalo.”
“Hey!”
“It’s true.”
“He wouldn’t have to actually pass.” Mustang offered innocently.
“What?”
“Madame Yao employs a number of female impersonators as well, for those who swing in that direction.” The Fuhrer said. “He wouldn’t have to pass at all, as long as he still fits into the overall theme.”
“That being?”
“Xingian high court concubine.”
Edward bristled again, like he was going to attack, and Alphonse abruptly had quite enough.
“We’ll consider it.” He said firmly, in a tone that meant “hell no”. “We’ll discuss it at home tonight, and I’ll let you know tomorrow at the briefing.”
Mustang nodded. He knew better than to press Alphonse when he’d made up his mind. Edward also, because he took it as his cue to get the hell out of the office.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” He said, and bolted for the door. “Al, you gonna have it out with the asshole yet?” It took Alphonse a moment to realize that Edward meant Mr. Pug.
“Yes, I’ll be home in a while.”
“You want noodles or sandwiches for dinner?” Edward asked.
“Depends, are you going to Tony’s or the Barbeque Shack?” Alphonse knew better than to think his brother was actually volunteering to cook.
“Barbeque Shack?”
“Then get barbeque! Sheesh.”
Edward disappeared out the door, shouted something exuberant at the outer office, and Alphonse could feel the Fuhrer smiling at his back, smiling at the both of them. He headed for the door himself, gearing himself up to take the Pugster down, and then belatedly something occurred to him. He paused.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Alphonse?”
“Just one thing.”
He turned to face the Fuhrer.
“HOW much money do you have riding on this, exactly?”
Mustang’s grin was not at all reassuring.
I'm sure you can all see where this is going XD
Title: Pandora's Revenge
Genre: Fluff, crack, humor
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Warning: OMFG, plot! And plot devices XD
He stepped across the threshold precisely at four, accompanied still by two of the military guard. Alphonse whistled lowly. The anteroom to the inner chambers was impressive as always, glittering today with a sculpture that had to cost several hundred million cens - probably a gift from some diplomat or two. The guards announced him, saluted politely, and opened the doors for him as if he were royalty. Alphonse smiled and waved, as always touched by the show. Admittedly, there were times when he did envy his brother’s job. Where he, the self-made developer, had fought tooth and nail to get a nice office on the corner, Edward got all this by default. And yes, of course, it was his choice, he’d made the resolution to get promoted the usual way…but after a full day with Mr. Pug, he had to concede that an office where “working late” meant “going out drinking” sounded pretty. damn. good.
Of course, the benefit of Mr. Pug’s office was, he never walked into pure bedlam and chaos. Or Distinguished Colonel Havoc’s back.
“Oh hey, Little Boss!” Colonel Havoc always called him that, even though he had now long outgrown it. He stepped aside and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”
I was announced, Alphonse thought, but he really couldn’t blame him. The Fuhrer’s office was filled with the roar of far too many people having far too many conversations all at exactly the same time, some whispering frantically in desperate debate, others at near-shouting level. It was the very picture of a busy office, if you didn’t notice the part where the denizens were primarily discussing the intricate details of poker, and the legalities of asking a girl a girl to give head on the third date. Alphonse shook his head. Yes, the Amestrian government ran itself. Alphonse just wasn’t sure how.
Second-in-command Hawkeye probably had something to do with that, he figured. He noticed an appreciable drop in the din as she marched toward him.
“Good afternoon, Alphonse.” She smiled, as smooth and competent as ever, and he couldn’t help but beam back at her. Her presence had that effect on people, powerful and calming.
“What’s going on today?” Alphonse asked, to both Hawkeye and Havoc.
“Not a whole lot.” The Second replied, though the twinkle in her eye belied some quiet personal amusement. “It’s a tad slow. We’re almost through with the new trade negotiations with Drachma. Fuery seems to have achieved a new record for number of pencils stuck in the ceiling, Falman has regaled us all repeatedly with stories of his new girlfriend, and -“
“- and the big man almost got your brother talked into this DRESS.” Havoc crowed, interrupting. Alphonse whipped his head toward the man and stared.
“Yeah, I’m serious. A DRESS.”
“How late were they 'working'?” Alphonse asked immediately.
“Not at all, actually.” Hawkeye said. She seemed vaguely put out, as if she’d wanted to be the one to let Alphonse in. “The office has been dry since last month’s little fishing expedition, as I’m sure you recall.”
Havoc and Alphonse both paled at that one. Edward could actually hold his own when they were out drinking beer; too bad no one had been drinking beer on that particular occasion. Havoc had supplied the liquor for an impromptu barbeque by the canal, and while Edward’s weakness to gin was now legendary, it hadn’t been known THEN - not until he tried to strip and go swimming. Edward still claimed the fish had been taunting him. Alphonse still claimed his brother would have drowned if the water hadn’t been six inches deep. (To which of course some smart ass had said that Edward was already in over his head, and then they’d ALL gotten doused.)
“Well, it still happened.” Havoc offered, lamely. “They’re going on about it right now.”
Alphonse nodded, still rather at a loss. He could hear his brother’s voice a little, now that he was listening for it; it was coming from the Fuhrer’s private office to the left. Edward sounded like he was railing.
“But he didn’t get him IN the dress.” It was important he know what he was about to be up against.
“No, not yet.” Havoc affirmed. “But we’ve got a pretty good pool going.”
“Odds?” Alphonse asked, though he felt a bit guilty. As Edward’s one and only brother, it really was his duty not to constantly bet against him. The trouble was Edward just made it so easy.
“No, you’re shut out of this one.” Havoc offered a pained grimace. “Sorry. Too much chance you might fix it.”
“I believe the current situation directly relates to the reason you have been summoned, which is why it is most pressing you report to the Fuhrer immediately,” Hawkeye added, with a sharp look toward her subordinate, and Havoc suddenly seemed to remember a more pressing engagement.
“Alphonse, if you would be so kind…” She gestured toward the closed executive office door.
“Sure.” Alphonse said, though no, no of course he was not ready. How did anyone survive working here? He paused to admire the elegant carving on the teakwood of the Fuhrer’s office door. It was rather lovely craftsmanship, an artistic depiction of a salamander array - now sporting a spurious fire-breathing dragon and a rather rude limerick about Amestris’s “Flaming Fuhrer”, courtesy, he was sure, of his wayward older brother. No one but Edward could transmute that much detail into a slur on someone’s sexual prowess. Even the dragon was beautiful in its ugliness.
Alright, brother. He thought, gritting his teeth. Here I come, to save your bacon… Really, he should be knighted for his efforts. Nobody else would put up with this for so long. After all, Edward got paid to do professionally what he’d already been naturally doing for years: getting himself into ridiculous amounts of trouble.
The shouting stopped as soon as he pushed the door open; his brother was rant-prone, but he did respect some boundaries. He took a quick look for appraisal purposes, but both Edward and Mustang seemed to be whole. There was no dress in sight. He wondered if the other two had been pulling his leg.
“Hello, Alphonse.” The Fuhrer purred quietly. He was sitting behind his desk, same as always, impeccable as ever in his dark blue dress uniform.
“Tell me, which do you think is Fullmetal’s color? Black, or blue? I think we’ve already determined the style.”
“I’ll show YOU black and blue!” His brother snapped back, though he looked vaguely guilty, and Alphonse sighed. Okay, not pulling his leg after all.
“Sir, what’s this all about?”
“A discussion of tactics, Alphonse. Your brother here-“ The Fuhrer nodded toward Edward, who was shifting back and forth on the couch like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, “-simply insisted I give him this mission. Without asking for any of the details, of course. Very brave of him, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s not my fault Intel’s totally incompetent!” Edward flailed. “I wouldn’t trust one of the new guys to tell an array from a tablecloth! Where the hell did you get them, out of nursery school?”
“Fullmetal, I know this might be hard to believe, but just because someone doesn’t share your passion for advanced hermetic theory does NOT mean they are, and I quote, ‘dumb as a box of rocks.’”
“Bullshit! I asked perfectly reasonable questions-”
“You grilled Officer Sharp about Goddard’s Fallacy - which has never been printed in anything but Ancient Xerxian, might I remind you - until she left crying.”
“Well? Grow a thicker damn skin! She’s gonna go undercover as an alchemist on my watch, she better be one goddamn good alchemist!”
“Wait…brother, you’re working with Intel?!” Alphonse sputtered.
Edward fixed him with a particularly baleful gaze. “Yeah?”
Alphonse couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“What!?” Edward looked highly insulted.
“Oh, brother...it’s just…YOU? Undercover? Brother, you couldn’t keep a low profile for five seconds.”
“Yes I can!” Edward snarled, then seemed to think the better of it.
“See what I mean?”
“Dammit Al, you’re suppose to be on MY side here-“
The Fuhrer cleared his throat rather pointedly, and they both paused.
“At any rate, Alphonse. That was actually what I had called you in here to discuss. You see, I have need for an undercover officer with alchemical knowledge-“
“-I already said, I’ll DO it-!”
“---who is not your brother.”
“Why?” Alphonse asked weakly.
The Fuhrer pushed away from his desk.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there have been reports that fighting has escalated between Drachma and the rebel state of Czygia. The rebels have apparently settled into the northern range of mountains, close to our border at Briggs; we’ve been hearing a lot from that province. What hasn’t been on the airwaves - and this is classified - is that they’ve been using some advanced alchemical methods to secure their position. Amestrian alchemy. Proprietary alchemy.”
“You think someone is selling state secrets?”
“I don’t think so, I know so.” The Fuhrer went on, pacing about in front of his window; exactly the habit that in days of the New Government might have gotten him killed. “I also have reason to believe we know whom to pin it on. Are you familiar with Representative Chorrol from Dublith?”
“Not particularly.” Alphonse admitted. To be honest, he kept only a passing eye on the ever changing landscape of Parliament, the legislative branch of the Amestrian government.
“He’s one of the old guard who got bought off with a political position when the new government formed.” Mustang’s upper lip curled, showing exactly what he thought about that. “Got a lot of political capital to burn still, unfortunately. His actual setup is likely small potatoes, but he’s a slippery one. We managed to get close enough to pin a few of his haunts, then our operatives mysteriously started getting fed misinformation, from somewhere inside the bureau itself. And someone must have told Chorrol we’re on to him, because he disappeared off the radar entirely for a couple months. The internal mole hunt is still ongoing-“
“Sheska’s on it.” Edward clarified from the couch. “I put her to work cross-checking records this morning. If anybody made any unusual movements within the past couple years, she’ll catch it.”
“-but that could take a while, and in the meantime we have a rather golden opportunity.” Mustang continued, shooting Edward a dirty look for interrupting him. “As I said, Chorrol knows we’re on to him, but I suspect that he’s also getting desperate. He’s financing a new wing to his little mansion right now, you see, and I know for a fact he doesn’t get paid enough to support that venture from his salary alone. I put a little pressure on some on his debtors to get them to pester him-“
Edward stretched out languidly along the couch and waved his right arm. “Pressure courtesy of Rockbell automail.”
“Fullmetal, could you be quiet for one second?!”
“Yeah, I could be…” The grin on Edward’s face clearly said that wouldn’t be any fun, though.
“So where do I come in?” Alphonse took the opportunity to ask.
“Alphonse. Right. Well, essentially, we finally have the chance to set up a proper sting. I’ve learned, from a reliable source close to this office, that Chorrol is going to be entertaining some of the departing Drachman diplomats at a private party, Thursday night. I also have reason to believe he will be looking to make a trade. I was hoping you might be able to pose as a seller for me.”
“Absolutely NOT.” Edward piped up. “Far too dangerous.”
Mustang scowled.
“Which is why, Edward, I told you he would not be without backup. The operation is two-pronged regardless. It wouldn’t be enough just to pin this on Chorrol; we need to nail his buyer, too. I have reason to believe Chorrol’s man in Czygia is actually Drachman native, someone fairly high up. If he’s contacting him through one of Drachma’s trade negotiation guys, then that takes some of the burden off Amestris. I mean, do you know what it would look like if it came out that Amestrian arrays were what was killing Drachman soldiers?”
Alphonse shuddered. Yes, yes, he could picture it. The Drachman people were not exactly known for their ability to forgive and forget. (Alphonse blamed the tundra culture, personally. In a land where the only thing to do all winter was hole up and drink, it was pretty easy to hang onto a grudge.)
“We avoided war with them once, I’m not going to damage relations now. If we can pin this as much on one of their guys as ours, Kaiser Reinhart will treat it as a stalemate. It’s my intention to kill this as soon as humanly possible, and if we can get both sides of the information drain, all the better.”
“Alright…” Alphonse said cautiously. His brother was glowering at him protectively, and at least on this occasion he could see the reason. “I can understand the importance, of course. But with all due respect, sir, wouldn’t it be better to have an actual operative…?”
The Fuhrer turned and pinned him beneath that one-eyed gaze, made him feel small. Somehow, even with only half its power, the legendary Mustang glare was just as effective as it had ever been.
“I’ve considered it. The problem is, Fullarmor-“ Mentally, Alphonse cringed. He hated that stupid title “-there’s a pretty short list of operatives we both feel can be trusted, and who Chorrol wouldn’t be suspicious of. He’s got a man on the inside, remember. The best choice would be someone no longer on active, official duty, and someone he has reason to trust.”
Alphonse felt something sink in his stomach.
“Why would he have reason to trust ME?”
Mustang favored him with a short, sad look.
“Because, Alphonse. Some of the construction arrays that have been smuggled out of the country had your signature all over them.”
WHAT?
“Do you remember that suspended bridging project you did for Fleet Street? Our intelligence reported there are large bridges just like it up in the Northern mountains now, complete with the same encrypted keys. The rebels are using them to transport troops and supplies right over the Drachman forces’ heads. That one array sequence alone is fueling the war.”
Alphonse staggered, suddenly needing very much to sit. He didn’t, because his brother was already on the couch, but he wanted very much to.
That array sequence is fueling the war.
“And I still say it’s too damned dangerous.” Edward snarled. “Let ME do it, bastard, I can sneak my way in; I can pretend to be him if you want, this kind of shit is my damn job-“
“That’s odd, Fullmetal,” the Fuhrer drawled, “From your performance lately, I could have sworn your job was to lie about my office and eat vinegar crisps.”
“It’s not funny, you bastard!” Edward was really getting into it now. He even sprung to his feet. “This is my little BROTHER you’re talking about, and if you’re SERIOUS about using him, then to hell with the dress, I’ll have you wear your GUTS for garters-“
“I’ll do it.” Alphonse said quietly.
“What?!” Edward squeaked. He spun around so fast he nearly fell over.
“I said, I’ll do it.” Alphonse repeated. His voice remained quiet, but his insides were boiling. “I made those arrays so people could get to market. Not so they could kill people.”
“Al…” Edward looked stricken.
“I’ve done it before, brother.” He reminded his sibling sternly. “I followed you around for years. I know damn well what I’m getting myself into.”
“Which is part of the reason I asked for you, Fullarmor.” The Fuhrer interjected smoothly. “I know you can handle it. Even if you haven’t been on active duty in recent months, you were always one of the best.”
“But not official!” Edward protested. “Al, you were-big, then; it was different.”
“And the only reason he didn’t get his title five years ago was that he couldn’t risk a physical.” Mustang pointed out. “Edward, your brother was always State Alchemist material. He passed the Exam five points higher than you.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me.” Edward groused. Alphonse couldn’t help but smile. Trust his brother to still be sore about that.
“Edward, the decision stands. The People’s Alchemist is well known throughout the middle continent as a loyalist; do you honestly think you could sell yourself as turning traitor? Be honest with me, here.”
“Well no, but-“
“And you've already ran off all the other low-profile operatives, because you decided they were incompetent with the alchemical side. Look, Alphonse’s entire existence has been shrouded in secrecy. His supervisor never even put the Elric name on his papers.”
“He didn’t?” Alphonse interrupted.
“No.” Mustang shuffled something in the piles on his desk. “He put your name on the roster as A.E. Pug, so even where you’ve initialed A.E. in your rune signature-“
“…that absolute bastard.” If Alphonse had been boiling before, he was ready to explode now.
“Pardon?” Even the Fuhrer looked taken aback.
“That complete, absolute, bastard.” Alphonse railed. “You know what HIS first name is? ‘Andrew Eugene’. I’ll bet HE’S the reason I didn’t get my damn quarterly bonus! I bet he’s taking been credit for every cotton-picking array I’ve etched for the last six months!”
Edward looking like he was seething now, too. “Fucker!!!”
“Yeah, I’d like to see him wiggle his way out of THAT one.” Alphonse hissed. “I can’t believe him, he acted like he was doing me such a big favor giving me a new office…this is just…ARGH!”
The Fuhrer smiled, his legendary composure seeming to have restored itself. “I take it then you wouldn’t be averse to the thought of active duty?”
“Hell no!”
“Excellent. I can arrange to have you briefed at 09:00 tomorrow - and actually, if you wouldn’t mind having it out with your boss tonight, that would really be the perfect cover.”
“Mind!? I assure you, I’d be glad to!”
“Just do it somewhere public, where others are sure to hear you; I’ll try to get the word out you’re disgruntled. Chorrol won’t have a reason to question you at all, then. Have it out with him and quit, it’ll work out perfectly.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up!” Edward yelped. “I already said, I don’t want you doing this-“
“-and this is MY LIFE, brother, and where do you get off telling me what I can and cannot do!?” Alphonse coiled, and struck deep. “Did it ever occur to you that I am not five years old anymore? Or do you really think so little of me?”
An old, long-standing argument. Alphonse didn’t need to keep going for Edward to know what came next. His brother stood there, regarded him for one long, tense moment.
If I can’t survive without your approval, am I a person at all?
“Fine.” Edward huffed finally. “You can take the damn job, whatever. I’m just sure as hell coming with you.”
“…which brings me back to the previous point, Fullmetal.” The Fuhrer sighed. “You really, honestly, can’t. There are only a limited amount of positions you could take that could keep you close to Alphonse, and you really aren’t suited for any of them. Except the guise you don’t want.”
“I could be a busboy!” Edward protested.
“And I already told you, Madame Yao’s does not USE busboys. Fullmetal, I know this is hard to believe, but there are times when your naivety precedes you.”
Belatedly, warning bells went off in Alphonse’s head.
“…sir, just what kind of place is this party taking place at?”
“A very famous one.” Mustang replied smoothly. “Very exclusive. It’s quite popular in the upper echelons.”
Alphonse was skeptical. “And how does that tie into my brother in a dress?”
Edward blanched.
“Al! How did you hear about that?!”
“Word gets around.” Alphonse said. “Again, sir - what kind of place is Madame Yao’s?” He was through playing softball. “Because I don’t work like my brother. I like to look before I leap. If I don’t get a straight answer, you don’t get an operative.”
Mustang dropped the act. “Alright. Madame Yao’s is…” He looked momentarily pained. “Alphonse, you have to understand that things didn’t always work the way they do now. The old regime...well, let’s just say that diplomacy, when it happened at all, was a very different sort of ballgame.”
“Okay…”
“And Drachma, well…when Drachman representatives come here, they still expect a certain level of…service. They’re used to after-hours entertainment…food, drinks…fine company…”
Alphonse nodded. He was starting to get the picture. A rather nasty picture.
“So you take the guys out, get them plastered, give them…comfort women?!” He yelped. It felt like his face was on fire. “You want my brother to…!?”
“No,” the Fuhrer said quickly. “Not exactly. Madame Yao’s employs girls in all sorts of capacities - as her bartenders, her bouncers, her all-purpose entertainers. She says they’re her ‘attendants’, and hosts parties styled like a Xingian high court. She’s a particular lady, she doesn’t like breaking the illusion.”
Alphonse boggled. “WHAT illusion? That she’s running a…” His mind tripped over words like “whorehouse” and “bordello”, fell into the last one. “A house of--of ill repute?”
Edward snickered loudly at that one. Mustang looked offended.
“It’s a little higher class than that, Alphonse. Really. The girls are paid entertainers. It’s not necessarily about sex.”
“And I suppose you’ve been there.” He said bitterly. “’Casing the place’ for my brother, I’m sure.”
“No, actually.” The Fuhrer said. “I haven’t. Alphonse, the Amestrian government hasn’t officially endorsed entertainment like this since the Parliament formed. It counts as a bribe now. Chorrol is doing this one hundred percent off the record, no doubt ready to claim that it’s a magical coincidence that the diplomats just happened to show up when he was there.” Mustang rolled his eye.
“Won’t it cause a scandal?” Alphonse asked. “Why don’t you just take him out for it?”
“Like anyone cares about dirty politics.” Edward snorted. “Rosencraft didn’t get booted when he whored his wife out to that Cretan prince; you think anybody’s gonna give a shit about a little clubbing?”
“Not to mention that Madame Yao has friends in rather high places still.” Mustang pointed out. “I have no doubt she’d call them in to avoid any untoward attention. Nor does it really get at the real problem, which is the array trafficking. Your mission, should you still choose to accept it, is just to get in and make the trade. That’s all. The other operative’s mission would be to watch your back and keep an eye on the Drachman delegation. If you could get Chorrol to set up a meet with them directly of course that would be ideal, but I highly doubt any middleman worth his salt would let his seller meet the buyer. I suspect someone may just have to tail him instead. And to achieve that level of mobility, the operative would have to either be one of Yao’s girls themselves, or an official escort - she allows them in, for a price, if they fit with her theme.”
He eyed Edward exasperatedly. “This is where it would be nice if a certain someone would relent, one way or the other. I told you, Fullmetal; either you let a female officer handle it, or you’re going to have to do it yourself.”
“I am not sending some Intel HALF-WIT in with my brother!” Edward huffed. “Have your guys find someone competent.”
“I suspect with your standards, Fullmetal, we’d never find anyone at all.”
“So wait,” Alphonse said, still trying to wrap his head around the idea. “You’re suggesting…my brother…go undercover…in a dress.”
“Yes,” said Mustang, completely serious.
“Cause he’s a bastard,” added Edward.
Normally Alphonse didn’t like to take advantage of their relationship to the Fuhrer, but in this case he really couldn’t help himself. Not many men had the ability to laugh in the Fuhrer’s face. Alphonse exercised it now.
“You’re kidding…right?”
“If you can think of a better idea, I’d like to hear it.” Mustang said. “A bodyguard would be rather suspicious. You could sell that only until he had to operate autonomously.”
“I keep saying, busboy!” Edward offered again. “Everyone's always hard up for busboys, I could talk my way around that chicks-only thing.”
“…do I have to put my gloves on?” The Fuhrer sighed. “Really Edward, it’s your choice. I gave you your options. We can either work this out, or I can call Officer Sharp back.”
“I think you’d better.” Alphonse said. “Brother, I know it’s a nice thought- that you want to come help me, that is -“ he amended hastily, seeing the LOOK on his sibling’s face. “But you can’t convince me for a second this would end in anything but disaster! No one in their right mind would mistake you for a woman.”
“Thanks,” Edward smirked, preening visibly, flexing a bicep. Alphonse rolled his eyes.
“Because the minute you opened your mouth, they’d know that something was off.” Alphonse couldn’t resist adding. “And you move about as gracefully as a water buffalo.”
“Hey!”
“It’s true.”
“He wouldn’t have to actually pass.” Mustang offered innocently.
“What?”
“Madame Yao employs a number of female impersonators as well, for those who swing in that direction.” The Fuhrer said. “He wouldn’t have to pass at all, as long as he still fits into the overall theme.”
“That being?”
“Xingian high court concubine.”
Edward bristled again, like he was going to attack, and Alphonse abruptly had quite enough.
“We’ll consider it.” He said firmly, in a tone that meant “hell no”. “We’ll discuss it at home tonight, and I’ll let you know tomorrow at the briefing.”
Mustang nodded. He knew better than to press Alphonse when he’d made up his mind. Edward also, because he took it as his cue to get the hell out of the office.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” He said, and bolted for the door. “Al, you gonna have it out with the asshole yet?” It took Alphonse a moment to realize that Edward meant Mr. Pug.
“Yes, I’ll be home in a while.”
“You want noodles or sandwiches for dinner?” Edward asked.
“Depends, are you going to Tony’s or the Barbeque Shack?” Alphonse knew better than to think his brother was actually volunteering to cook.
“Barbeque Shack?”
“Then get barbeque! Sheesh.”
Edward disappeared out the door, shouted something exuberant at the outer office, and Alphonse could feel the Fuhrer smiling at his back, smiling at the both of them. He headed for the door himself, gearing himself up to take the Pugster down, and then belatedly something occurred to him. He paused.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Alphonse?”
“Just one thing.”
He turned to face the Fuhrer.
“HOW much money do you have riding on this, exactly?”
Mustang’s grin was not at all reassuring.
I'm sure you can all see where this is going XD