3

3 (fma)
2 days later
Central, 1400 hours
Mustang took his mug and drank it. "Ah, damn..." he said as he looked at a piece of paper in front of him. "Those f***ing Germans are coming..."
He quickly looked around. 
"Colonel's not here, is she..."
He sighed in relief and took the paper. "You are listening to Capital Radio. Military report. The Germans have marched into Kanama near Central..."
"F***ing radio!" he shouted as he pulled a drawer and took his glove. He quickly wore it and snapped his fingers. 
BOOM
Some smokes came out from the radio which was burning. He smiled in satisfication and took off his glove. 
"Ah..." he said as he laid back against the black leather chair. "That surprisingly feels good."
Hawkeye opened the door and rushed in. "General, sir!" she called. Mustang sat up straight and sighed. "Yes, what's wrong colonel?" he asked. 
"Sir..." Hawkeye said as she panted. "The Germans are offering something..."
Mustang's eyes grew wide. "Something?" he asked. Hawkeye nodded. "Now that they've marched till Kanama, they wanted to offer some kind of peace agreement..." she said. Mustang turned his chair to face the window. "That's surprisingly funny," he said. "The leader is here," she said. "With the His Excellency, talking about something."
He sighed loudly and yawned. "Well, that don't have anything to do with me..." he said. She sighed and walked a few steps to the front. 
"Unfortunately, sir," Hawkeye said. "His Excellency wants to see you."
Mustang quickly turned his chair. "NOW?" he asked. "Yes, sir," she said. "But..." "The Fuhrer needs a company," she said with a cynical smile. "Why not you go and provide him one..."
Armstrong peeked in from the door. "And Major General too!" she said as she turned back. 
"WHAT!" Mustang shouted. "This old macho guy, me, and old Fuhrer? What are the Germans gonna think of us!" he shouted. Armstrong opened the door and got in. 
"Can I help you, Colonel Hawkeye?" he asked. "Yes, sir. His Excellency needs a company to face our guests," she said. "I think the two of you will make a good company..."
Mustang waved his hands as he shook his head. "Don't! Don't!" he whispered. Armstrong looked at him for a while, then he smiled. 
"Of course I'd love to be the Fuhrer's company with General Mustang..."
•••
Mustang walked slowly as he yawned with Armstrong walking beside him. Armstrong was smiling, with his chest pumped. 
"General, don't make that face," Armstrong said. "That will embarass our Fuhrer..."
"And now, what are the guests gonna think of us..." he murmured. "And I'm afraid this might be a trap..."
Armstrong was surprised. "A trap?" he asked. Mustang lifted his shoulders. "We never know," he said with a sigh. 
Armstrong sighed. "But however..." he said. "Yes?" Mustang asked. 
"Let's forget about that and try to look good in front of them..."
Mustang sighed. Armstrong stopped walking and held his shoulders. "Now, sir," he said. "Stand up straight and pump that chest of yours!"
Mustang sighed. "I'm not gonna do your stupid suggestion," he said. "I'll behave like I'm used to."
Grummond was standing in front of a door and was clicking his heels impatiently. Suddenly he saw two men at the faraway. A small one and a big one.
"Mustang! Armstrong!" he shouted as he waved his hand. "Come here..."
The two of them walked a bit faster and Grummond opened the door. "Now put your game face," he said. Mustang nodded and Armstrong just smiled. 
•••
Mengele sipped a bit of his tea and put down the cup. He took a glass stood upside down on the mahogany table and looked to Ed who was standing behind him. 
"Tea, Edward? It's pretty good," he offered. Ed shook his head. "No, thank you, doc," he said. Mengele smiled and looked around the room. It was painted in yellow with a chandelier hanging on the middle of the ceiling. 
"Hm..." he said as he sipped his tea again. "For a military office, this isn't half bad."
The door screeched open and an old man in blue military uniform walked in. Two other men—one with black hair and another with muscled body—was following him. Mengele quickly stood up. 
"Good afternoon," Grummond said as he saluted. "You must be the Germans' leader."
"And you must be the Fuhrer," Mengele said. "Nice to meet you, sir. The name's Joseph," he introduced himself as he gave out his hand. "Joseph Mengele."
"And you can call me Grummond," Grummond said. "Well, nice to meet you, Joseph," he said as he shook Mengele's hand. He then pulled his hand and smiled. 
"Please, sit down," Grummond said. "Sorry I made you wait. There's something I need to take care of," he said. 
"Oh, that's alright, sir," Mengele said. "As the leader of the country, there's a lot of things to take care of."
Mustang and Armstrong walked aside and turned their bodies, facing the yellow wall. Ed turned his body back and put his hands below his back. 
"General, sir..."
Mustang looked to Armstrong. "What's wrong?" he whispered. "Can't this be a trap?" Armstrong whispered. "I mean, that's Edward Elric..."
"I know, Armstrong."
Armstrong looked down again. "So..." "Armstrong," Mustang whispered. Armstrong looked up to Mustang. "Don't worry," Mustang whispered woth a smile. "His Excellency isn't stupid."
"So..." Mengele said with a big smile. "Ah, yes, let's talk about your thing," Grummond said. Mengele nodded. 
"Central," he said. "It's a beautiful city, isn't it?"
Grummond took a cup and poured himself some tea as he listened. "Of course, as the capital city," Grummond said. "We need to make a good impression on foreigners."
Mengele smiled. "But a lot of things do need some fixing," Grummond said as he stood up and walked to the window. "Say, that town clock," he said as he pointed a big black tower. "And also the shops down there... Shoot, look at those big holes... We haven't fixed it since the last air raid..." he said. 
"However, it's still a good town," Mengele said. "Despite all that troubles."
Mengele stood up and walked to Grummond. 
"Hey, Armstrong," Mustang whispered. "Get ready."
Armstrong nodded and put his eyes on Mengele's moves. 
"As you know, Excellency," Mengele said. "My troops has took over maybe half the country."
"And you won't get it full," Mustang whispered with a smile. "Thanks to the Briggs guys up north..."
"No, sir," Armstrong whispered. "I bet he's more interested in Central first before moving up."
Mustang sighed. "Yes, you're right," he whispered. "However, there's something we call mental strike."
"Yes, of course I know that," Grummond said as he turned back. "And I have a lot of casualties and you don't even know what casualties is!"
Mengele sighed. "I'm very sorry, My Excellency..."
Grummond sighed and turned back again. "Just tell me what you want," he said. Mengele smiled cynically and turned back to his seat. "Well..." he said as he pulled his seat. "What about surrender, sir?" he said. 
"What?"
Mengele smiled. Grummond turned back as he frowned. 
"Surrender," Mengele said. "Yes, that's what I'm talking about..."
"You crazy?" Grummond shouted. "No, sir," Mengele said. "You can just leave and we'll take care of the city..."
"What are the guarantees that you folks won't do anything to my people?" he asked. Mengele smiled. "You don't have to worry about that," he said. "We're not jerks..."
"All soldiers are jerks," Grummond said. "That's what we believe in Amestris."
"Whatever," Mengele said. "I'll show you German jerks keep their promises."
Armstrong looked at Mustang, who was trembling. "I wanna look back," Mustang whispered to himself. "But it's forbidden."
"Ok?" Mengele asked. "What about that?" he asked. 
"You sure?"
"Well, trust me like you trust your subordinates."
"Which one?"
"That two behind."
Grummond sighed and walked to the door. "Well," he said as he struck Mustang's shoulders. "I believe you have a plan."
Mustang looked back. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked. Grummond sighed and took Mustang's hand. 
"Let's move out of here!"
Mengele watched Grummond dragged Mustang out of the room. Armstrong bowed and quickly followed them. 
"Ok, Edward. It's over."
Edward stood still, facing the wall. Mengele struck his shoulders and smiled. "Edward," he called. Ed looked back and forced a smile. 
"It's over..."
"I trust you, Mustang," Grummond said. "And stop saying those two words."
Mustang sighed and looked down. "For the time being, I'll be in Briggs," Grummond said. "I believe you can handle things over here, right?"
Mustang nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "Just tell me if you need something. It can be ammo, people..."
"I just need all pieces I have, sir," Mustang said as he looked up to Grummond. "My queen, my knight, my rook, my bishop," he paused and looked up at Armstrong. "And my major general," he said. "Are you up to it, Armstrong?"
Armstrong saluted. 
"Yes, sir!"