The Heist

AN: Hey guys! Thanks for all of you who have reviewed recently to tell me that you're still interested in the story. I have no intention of giving it up, and I'm actually actively writing the rest of the chapters regardless of an update. I am trying to get an average number of 3 reviews per chapter, which sort of puts an undue pressure on the latest chapters, seeing that I updated the story in its infancy consistently without waiting for reviews. Sorry about that; I should have been more consistent. But the reason for this goal is that I'm afraid that new people would not be interested in trying this story if they see that the review count is so low. I hope this is not the case, but I know that a lot of people use the review count as a basis to see if a fanfiction is worth trying.

In any case, I am in the process of writing Chapter 12 as I'm writing this author's note, and my goal is to have the story finished by January of next year. As for upload rates, it will still depend on whether I get my 3:1 review-chapter ratio. You're all welcome to ask for advanced chapters though.

Crying Hysterica: Aww, thanks for the review! I hope you like this chapter! There's a lot of LingFan in it.

Guest 1: I feel so sorry for Lan Fan too! But alas, I have to forward the plot, and she was an easy victim. Sorry about that. Don't worry though, things will only get better for her. (Not for Ling though, mwahaha.)

Guest 2: Nope, I haven't abandoned it. I'll keep writing until I finish it, and then upload whenever there's enough feedback. ^^

"There is talk," Ling began. "Among my relatives. They live in the other houses, and are pretty much privy to whatever happens here in the compound."

"What kind of talk?" Lan Fan asked as she brushed her hand across the ceramic vases lining the hallway. They had just finished breakfast, and was about to spend their customary stroll in the gardens.

"Talk about us." Ling gave her a sly sideways glance, a small smile playing on his lips. They exited the hallway, walking through the pavilion, and finally out into the fresh open space of the looming autumn. He saw the way Lan Fan stiffen, guessing that even after a few days, she still had not adjusted to the idea of their marriage. Well, to be completely honest, Ling hadn't either. The marriage certificate was the quickest way he could think to remedy Lan Fan's unfortunate predicament – what the marriage entailed, however, didn't hit him until he came to the Yao estate and announced his plans to his grandfather.

"What are they saying?"

"Oh... well, you know, the usual things about ignorant family members." Ling shrugged and donned on a bored voice. "How dare I get married without inviting them? Didn't I know there were ceremonies to hold, traditions to observe, yadda yadda."

Lan Fan cringed. "Sounds like I shouldn't look forward to meeting them."

"Eh, that can't be helped. You will eventually. Grandfather is planning a formal feast by the week's end."

"Another one? Didn't we just have a feast last night?" Apparently Shàngwǔ promised Lan Fan a nice dinner after they took her from Yan City. True to his word, the previous night saw the three of them dining on a rather elaborate set of courses.

"That's not a feast!" Ling exclaimed. "Not by Yao noble standards. I know you're not too comfortable seeing people splurge, but let Grandpa be a little indulgent. He doesn't do so very often, and mostly it concerns family members when he does."

"What am I supposed to say to your relatives? That I'm originally from Tong-Hua and that you married me to undermine my deportation from Amestris?" Lan Fan asked.

"Well... I'd be a little hypocritical if I say that I know how to handle my extended family. But, just try to smile a lot, say please and thank you; that tends to pacify them. We'll say that we met some months ago, and tied the knot for mutual benefit. The latter they'll understand, considering how embroiled this family has been in politics for generations. I don't think they have forgotten how mother had married Henry Chu, so more likely than anything else, they'll just pat your hand and nod like they're in on the joke."

The two of them reached Lan Fan's favourite bridge, the one that spanned a deep green pond where she could watch koi fish slither in and out of view.

The question of what would happen afterwards after their marriage dissolved – which was inevitable due to it being fake in the first place – neither of them voiced out loud. It hung awkwardly in the air as Lan Fan looked into the water, and he stared up at the clouds in the sky.

An excited voice broke their silent reverie, and Ling looked to the side to find a group of children coming into the garden from the opposite entrance. They waved at him eagerly, giggling and pointing at Lan Fan, all the way to the bridge.

"Big Brother Ling!" one of them called out. Though most of the children here were his cousins, or children of his cousins, he still endured the epithet of Big Brother. Meh, better that than 'uncle'. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Not much, just hanging about," he said, switching into standard Xingese. He reached out to ruffle the hair of the tallest among them, behind which all the other kids were standing, stealing shy looks at him and Lan Fan.

The boy, called by most of their relatives simply as Shang, grinned back at him. "Yeah, we heard you got married. Is she your wife?" he asked, pointing at Lan Fan.

"Yep. Why don't you be a polite little boy and introduce yourself, huh?"

Shang made a show of dusting off his clothes and clearing his throat. Standing straight as a ramrod, he turned to Lan Fan and stretched out his hand. "Hello, dear lady! My name is Shang, and if you ever want embarrassing stories about your husband, my father can tell you lots! He used to stay with Big Brother Ling and Aunty Yuna when he made business trips to Amestris."

Ling rolled his eyes, and slapped Shang's hand away before Lan Fan could take it. "That's not polite, at all!"

One little girl, no more than five years of age, hopped towards Lan Fan to grab her empty left sleeve. "What's in here?" she asked with big innocent eyes, and the rest of the younger kids were drawn to her side out of curiosity.

"Len, you're not supposed to say something like that!" Shang scolded, and pulled his younger cousin out of the way.

"She has one arm," one of the kids said in what was supposed to be a whisper, but was obviously loud enough to be heard by everyone on that bridge.

"She's pretty," Len continued, squirming away from Shang's hold to grab onto Lan Fan's other sleeve. She latched onto her hand. "Hello, lady!"

Lan Fan gave an awkward greeting, looking very much like she didn't know how to handle a group of children who were clamoring for her attention.

"Yeah, she's pretty alright," one of them mumbled. "I can't believe she settled for Brother Ling!"

"Hey, I heard that!" Ling exclaimed.

"Do you know martial arts?" Shang interjected. "My grandmother wants to know. She says it's not good for bearing sons."

"My grandmother says that knowing martial arts is good for bearing sons!" another kid argued. "Why, how else is she going to protect the baby from bandits?"

"What bandits?" came a confused cry.

"Well, I heard green tea was good for bearing sons!"

"Green tea is all the rave these days!" someone else complained. "It's supposed to be good for everything, like curing tummy aches and making rain fall for the farmers. Bah!"

"Alright, alright, that's enough, all of you!" Ling called out loudly. "First of all, it doesn't matter if she bears a son or a daughter, and second of all, none of you should even be thinking about that! Now, leave the questions for later. Lan Fan and I have something to do right now." He extracted Lan Fan from the zealous group, and began to retreat to the other side of the bridge. He turned around once to yell, "I like green tea!" before watching the children disperse into whatever game they wanted to play.

Beside him, Lan Fan exhaled slowly. "Man, I don't know how I'm going to hold up with your aunts and uncles at this rate. Talking with the kids was already intense."

"Don't feel bad. Talking with kids is always intense. And look on the bright side! They seem to be taken with you."

Lan Fan chuckled. "At your expense, it seems."

"Huh? You're not talking about the whole 'too pretty for me' thing, are you?" Ling shrugged. "My shifty eyes had always been a source of jokes around here when I visit. Don't worry, I'm used to it. Half of them have the same shape of eyes, so really, the joke is on them."

They walked down a hallway for a while, but when Ling guided her into a part of the mansion she hadn't been in before, she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Let's head into the library. What you said about my father yesterday really got me thinking. I don't know much about the Chu clan, and I'm hoping to remedy that."

The library has always been one of Ling's favourite places in the Yao estate. As a kid, the brightly covered books and finely decorated old scrolls vied for his limited attention, just as much as the large expanse of land dedicated to the gardens did. But he'd always been a very curious child, and the library's little quirks only amplified that side of him.

He led Lan Fan to the history section. He grabbed a couple of books related to Imperial Xing and the 50 Families, and set them down on the table where he and Lan Fan could read.

"Has your grandfather told you anything interesting about the Chus?" he asked her.

Lan Fan shook her head, flipping to the index of one of the books to look up the Chu clan. "Not really. The only tidbit I know well enough is the part where King Xiao asked for help from the Tong-Huanese in exchange for our independence. He was able to defeat your father in the race to the throne by collaborating with many of the smaller clans."

"What I'm more interested in is what Mámù told you," Ling said. He'd known that the Chu were poorer than all the other average clans, but somehow he never thought to wonder how they managed to survive all these years. The fact that his father might be routing finances from his business in Amestris to his home clan came as rather surprising.

"What confuses me is why your father would be against the free-trade agreement. It seems like something that might actually be able to help his people, don't you think?" Lan Fan said.

Ling shrugged, flipping through some basic starters on cultural distinctions between the 50 families. There was nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed. In the early days of their annexation, the Chus were animists and retained the culture they shared with those from the islands of the southern continent. They assimilated soon enough. The peninsula on which they live is known for its lush forests, from which the Chu peoples gather dyes and herbs to sell for their living. There had been four emperors from the Chu clan, two of which died early in their reigns. More random facts littered the pages, and Ling wasn't sure which ones were important.

"Hey Lan Fan, this might be an answer to your question," Ling replied, as he pushed the book towards her, a finger pointing to the paragraph he just read. "The Chu people sell natural dyes. That's their main source of living. Do you think that's what Mamu was referring to? It's possible that my father is worried that the synthetic dye industry from Amestris would all but wipe out the demand for his clan's supply. Still, that seems like a rather drastic conclusion. The Chu clan can still resort to other types of things to sell from the forest."

"Hold on," Lan Fan said, shifting closer. "Remember what your grandfather said yesterday? Companies have been vying for the forests in their peninsula. What would be the implication if the Chu cannot make a living from the forests anymore? I think... I think the forest would be up for grabs again."

An insight dawned on Ling. "You might be right. After all, with the increased competition across the continent, those logging companies would prefer the forest by the peninsula where the trees are more accessible and closer to the ports."

Lan Fan nodded slowly in agreement. "And the Xingese government would just encourage them to do so to be competitive. It might not even protect your father's clan from the resulting displacement..."

Ling leaned against the backrest of his chair, contemplating the validity of their assumptions. They seemed sound to him, though the speed with which they churned out their ideas worried him. "But these are all just conjectures," he grumbled, pulling back the book and flipping through it lamely. "With so many things that can be affected by the new policy, I'm sure things are a lot more complex than that."

"Could be," Lan Fan shrugged. "But one thing makes sense. Mámù was afraid of something deeply disturbing happening to her clan, economically wise. Something bad enough that even Henry Chu doesn't feel confident that he can pull them out of the pickle jar with his finances alone. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so upset, right? So whatever it is he's planning to do, we can anticipate that it would be so dire that President Grumman would not want to sign the agreement."

"Blackmail then?" Ling frowned. "I don't think there's dirt on Grumman."

Lan Fan stilled. "How about war?"

Ling's eyes almost bulged. "Start a war?! No, I don't think so. It would be bad for his business and the Chu peoples. Nah, I doubt he'd do something like that." Ling was sure of it. Quite.

-o-

Lan Fan fidgeted beneath the sumptuous covers of her low bed. A flash of lightning lit up her entire room for a split-second, then she found herself blinded for several moments when the dark consumed her room again. Several seconds later, thunder rumbled in the distance.

She pulled at the pillow beneath her head, placing it on the side so that she could put her arms and legs around it. She swore she'd been trying to catch the evasive lull of sleep for at least two hours now. It must be past midnight. She'd been so exhausted the previous nights that sleep was not at all difficult, but now that she's been well-rested, she was starting to realize that she became accustomed to the harsher sleeping conditions in her shabby prison-home in Yan city.

Her room here was scarily fancy. Too fancy. Everything was. Even now, the scent of jasmine lingered around her, emanating from the body wash that her bathroom had been stocked with.

Outside, she heard the rain begin to patter down, slowly at first, before escalating into a full-blown storm.

It reminded her of the times back in Amestris after she and Grandpa Fu had just escaped from Chu's laboratory. It had been one of the worst times of her life. They had no place to go, their old quarters having been rented out to someone else during their absence. Her grandfather was ill, and she was still feeling the after effects of many of the researchers' treatments. She had never felt so... lost and angry and despairing.

Just thinking about it sent the familiar ache shooting across her chest. She sat up, suddenly too warm beneath the blankets, her heart racing with fear and anxiety that she could lose everything again. The emotion came up now and again during her stay in Yan city, but it hadn't been so bad, because at least they had shelter and food to eat. And the hard work of keeping things in order took its toll on her so she didn't have a lot of spare energy left to worry about 'what-ifs'.

When things are good though... she became afraid.

A cold breeze entered from her window, and Lan Fan walked over to close the shutters. Turning back around, she found the image of her bed uninviting in its opulence. She sighed. Maybe some warm drink would help with her insomnia. She tiptoed to the sliding door that separated her room from Ling's, and quietly slid it enough to the side so that she could squeeze through.

She couldn't see Ling well enough in the dark. He was nothing but a shadowed outline among other shadowed outlines. The sound of his breathing was lost amidst the sheets of rainfall outside. Well, she hoped he was asleep.

Lan Fan skittered to the door on the opposite side of the room as quietly as she could. She was just about to open it, when she heard Ling call her name.

"Lan Fan?"

She paused. Looking back, she found Ling's dark shape pushing himself up on his elbows.

"Are you alright? Is anything the matter?"

Lan Fan looked to the door, contemplating on whether she should put up a charade of being thirsty. But Ling sounded genuinely concerned, and after all that she had put him through, she decided that she needed to be more honest with him. With her mind made up, she closed the door and walked slowly towards Ling's bed.

She crouched by the side, and looking at him, she felt somewhat better. And the sense of comfort she felt was concrete, tangible, not something that could easily be taken away in a span of a breath. And right now, that assurance was all she needed. It might all be an illusion – after all, the events from more than a week ago showed her how easily she could lose the good things in her life – but for now, she didn't feel alone in the battle to keep what was hers.

"I was just a little edgy," she admitted. "Must have been the storm. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I might get something to drink."

"Edgy?" he asked, as he reclined back on his pillows. He reached out his hand for her, and she took it. His palm was warm.

"Yeah... like you know the feeling when you're really content and then this fear just comes out of nowhere? The fear that things couldn't possibly be better so you know that they will get worse eventually, and you're scared of that happening?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I know what you mean." After a moment, he added, "But I'm not going to pretend as if I have felt it to the same extent as you have. That would be very arrogant of me. You've had it very hard."

Lan Fan remained quiet. Although she didn't want pity, she also found it nice that someone acknowledged what she'd been through.

"But try not to worry yourself sick," Ling continued. "Remember what I said on the day I hired you? It's my neck before yours. Things might not always work out the way we want them to... they rarely do from my experience, but I won't let my friends get hurt if I can help it. I know I haven't been doing a good job lately, so I'm sorry. I need to step it up."

"No, please don't say that," Lan Fan said quietly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. And I really am. By withholding so much crucial information, I jeopardized everything you and your friends worked so hard for."

"To be honest, Lan Fan... sometimes I really do wish you had told me from the beginning. I could have protected you much easier if I had known," Ling said not unkindly. Lan Fan thought he seemed regretful in a way.

"Ling, I..." she began, and then took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I wanted to ask you something. About the nature of my employment. When you hired me, did you assert the 24/7 protection clause to be able to monitor me better?"

Ling smiled a little. "Why, you didn't think I needed protection around the clock? All this trouble I have caused, and you still think I need to step up my trouble-making game!"

Lan Fan chuckled. "I only meant that you didn't seem to be as vulnerable as I first thought you would be. I only met one of your brothers once, and that was during one of the operations."

Ling sobered, indicating that he understood what she was trying to say. "You realize though that adding you to the mix was risky enough in itself just because you were an outsider, and you would be privy to pretty much everything I do. I admit that the 24/7 clause helped me to keep an eye on you. But I was hoping that keeping you comfortable would remedy whatever inconvenience that my restrictions might have caused. You were comfortable, weren't you?"

"I was," Lan Fan admitted. "Very much, actually. And I'm not faulting you. It's just that... I realized when I thought about it before, I was a little disappointed because I thought you were being nice only to mask the fact that you distrusted me." She added in quieter tone, "Not that I didn't give you any reason not to be suspicious of me."

"Does it still bother you?" Ling asked.

"No, not anymore. I know you're kind because, well, you're Ling. And we're friends now."

"We are." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she could do nothing else but smile at him. There wasn't anything else she had to say anyway. Her apprehension had evaporated, and the storm's rage outside no longer felt threatening. In the silence that blanketed them, the rain even seemed quite comforting, an extra layer that kept the big, precarious world away from the safe familiarity she now shared with Ling. She could now see him better too. In the stark blue shade, he seemed a much ethereal version of his usual joker self. Lan Fan held back a laugh, as she realized what was running through her head.

"What?" Ling asked.

"Nothing!"

He narrowed his eyes, not convinced.

Lan Fan reminded herself of her promise to be more open to him. Awkwardly, she answered, "Er.. don't take this the wrong way. But you kinda look, well... you look really beautiful right now. But not in a bad way!"

Ling looked at her as if he was trying to gauge whether she was serious or not. Then he let out a loud laugh. When he was done, he wiped a few stray tears from his eyes.

"Goodness, Lan Fan! Sometimes you say the oddest things that make me wish our marriage isn't fake."

She blushed. "Ling! Your mother would be so disappointed!"

He laughed again. After calming down, he snuggled deeper in his covers. "Feeling better?" he asked her.

She nodded. Slowly, he leaned towards their hands still intertwined together, and gave hers a soft kiss. "Goodnight, then."

Lan Fan was grateful that it was dark. But she briefly wondered if her face looked slightly purple with her reddening skin under the bluish glow from the window. He released her hand, and she went back to her room, back to bed, and finally, went to sleep.

-o-

Edward wondered if Ling was having a better night than he was. Most likely, yes. Almost anyone in the world would be having a better night than Ed. Tucked under sheets not his own, he was waiting for the assailant that Auto-Mail had learned would be paying him a visit. Well, not him him. Not Edward Elric. The hitman was here for one named Syaoran Morgan, an Auto-Mail field worker. He was one of the many covert employees hired by the underground network to collect many different kinds of information that Auto-Mail would sell to their clients.

It turned out that Henry Chu was not done harassing Auto-Mailers.

In a panicked fit, Garfiel had informed Winry just earlier that day that Syaoran Morgan was chosen as a target of assassination. He was to be the next reminder for Edward and Winry that Chu had not forgotten, and was still a long way from forgiving.

Edward didn't understand. Using the money that Yuna loaned them, they already paid back all of the money they owed Henry Chu. All four million sens, plus the interest. Yet Chu continued his harassment. He targeted an additional five different Auto-Mailers after gunning down the LeCoultes and rigging Yuna's car. After receiving the payment, his attacks slowed down, but did not completely stop. Edward wished that Yuna would hurry up in Drachma. She planned to spoil his business connections there to distract him from Auto-Mail.

The only good part out of all of this was that Colonel Mustang was as vigilant as ever. So far, only one person had unfortunately perished from the attacks. Combining his team's efforts with Auto-Mail's advanced warnings, they were able to either foil the attacks or save the victims.

And Edward wanted to make sure he kept up that record.

He heard a sound off to the side. Syaoran's condo wasn't the greatest when it came to security. It meant that they had little choice but to plant Edward as a decoy. To his advantage, it also meant that the assailant would have very little reason to be creative in his approach – with very little security to avoid, Ed was sure that the person would be as predictable as ever.

Slowing down his breath to appear as if he was asleep, Edward snuggled deep under Syoaran's comforter, and trained his ear to the almost imperceptible footsteps outside. Cracking one eye open, Ed waited for the tell-tale feeling of an approaching body, before pushing himself off the bed and swinging his arm around.

His fingers grasped hair. Red, long hair. Taking advantage of this, he gripped it tight, and yanked hard. The person – a woman – stumbled over the bed and somersaulted her way to the ground on the opposite side. But she didn't lose a beat. Ed expected that. He knew that someone tasked with direct confrontation wouldn't be useless in self-defense.

Leaping over the bed, he aimed a kick at her face, which she blocked with both arms. An elbow connected to his ribs in a fearsome hit, much stronger than Ed expected, but not strong enough to rival Izumi's training punches. Ignoring the pain, he took advantage of their close positions, and kneed her in the gut. She stumbled back against the wall, grunting.

As quickly as he could, he sprayed a sedative on her struggling form. He caught a whiff of it himself, but he'd already taken the antidote for it that his little brother devised himself. At first, there was no noticeable difference in her. The woman slapped away the spray from his hand, sending it hurtling across the room. Her hand shot out in a punch to his jaw, but Ed dodged just in time, redirecting her aim with a swift jab of his hand.

Just then, Ed noticed the sharp glint of light on metal, and out of the corner of his eye he found that the woman now held a small knife, which she'd pulled from somewhere. She tore at the air before his face, but Ed moved away from the sharp weapon with deftness, relieved that he'd seen it just in time.

Her slashes became steadily sloppy and her footing unsteady. Soon enough, Ed barely had to dodge from her attacks, and he watched as the sedative finally took over her, and she fell unconscious to the floor.

Sighing, he inspected himself to see if there was anything in need of immediate attention that he hadn't noticed during the fight. His right side was sore, and he found his shirt with three rips at the front. But no cut flesh. Nothing but bruises in the worst case scenario.

Moving to where the woman fell, he prodded her cheek with the tip of his boot. She was unmoving. Whelp, time to call up the state militant then.

A few minutes later, when Edward had skillfully tied up the assassin with rope he found in Syaoran's toolbox, Sergeant Brosh stuck his head in the doorway, looking as if he was uncertain whether it was safe to come in.

"Unless you think the boogie monster would come and give you a good licking, there's nothing to hide from," Ed told him.

Brosh narrowed his eyes at the younger boy, but straightened himself, and walked confidently into the living quarters.

"That's the assassin?" he asked.

"Yep, and I'm hoping she's easier to carry than fight with," Ed answered.

"You don't look like you had too much trouble," Brosh commented.

Edward preened. "Why, thank you!"

After attaching handcuffs to her limp form, Brosh and Ed took the woman down to the lobby where a police car was waiting for them. Ed accompanied them to the station, just in case the woman's system managed to overcome the sedative much earlier than expected. But she remained knocked out until they have entered the precinct and Brosh gave him the a-ok to leave.

Ed glanced at his watch. 4:15 am. Well, even if he managed to make it home to Izumi's, he would only have several hours of sleep. Might as well just head over to Winry's, which was much closer. He took out his phone to send a quick text to his foster-mother that he would be spending the rest of the night at Garfiel's place, before hailing a cab to take him there.

When he got to the house, he was surprised to find Winry's bedroom lights open. He slipped through her doorway, deciding to take a peek at what she's doing before he headed for the guest bedroom. She was at her computer, typing furiously away.

"Win?"

She gasped, startled. She turned around and glowered at him.

"What are you doing here at 5 in the morning?" she whispered harshly.

"Uhm, I was going to sleep, which as you know, is a pretty normal thing to do at 5 in the morning," he answered right back. "What are you doing?"

She snorted, then turned her frown back to her computer screen. "Foiling a dox."

Ed frowned, and entered the room completely. He sat on her bed, looking over her shoulder at the computer.

"Who is getting doxxed?"

"Believe it or not, Dr. Marcoh," Winry explained. "I bet he's doing this just to scare us. Give us a warning not to cross him ever again. Hah, we'll see about that."

"Yeah, what is Ms. Yuna doing up in Drachma? Do you know?" he asked.

"I don't, but let's give her time. It's Ms. Yuna we're talking about here. She could be planning to make a volcano erupt for all we know." Winry flipped through a few windows successively, before resuming her mad typing.

"There are no volcanoes in Drachma," Ed commented. "Not active ones anyway. In any case, how are you stopping this doxxing?"

"Well, Dr. Marcoh's hideout was revealed on the net by a troll. I can't do anything about that now, so I'm just making as many troll accounts on as many social networks as I can, and having them provide false information."

Edward smirked. He watched Winry run a script that sent hundreds of server requests to post random addresses and contact information by anonymous commentators. If anyone ever wished to find out Dr. Marcoh's whereabouts, they were going to have to tread through thousands, if not millions, of contradicting information, never knowing which among them was the correct one.

"Alright, I'll leave you to that." He stood up and headed out of her room.

"Ed?" Winry called after him.

"Yes?"

"Take a bath before you go to bed!"

He rolled his eyes.

-o-

Henry Chu entered a vault in his new office in Youswell. The twenty-five acres of land in the mining town was the ideal spot to build a new XYZ Ltd. branch to serve not only the local farming villages, but also the nearest cities in Xing across the dessert. A series of rail networks made it easy to commute between the two countries should the need arise.

And there would be need soon.

He was glad that Colonel Mustang had approved of the collateral he requested. The office was not yet ready for business – that would take several more weeks of hard construction. But one part of the building was already finished, and it was here that he'd asked the architects to install a secret vault-like room. He would have to take care of those architects and carpenters later, but for now, Henry marveled at how solidly it's been built.

He set down the special suitcase he brought along. It was sealed air-tight, but at a single finger scan, it opened itself to reveal a large glass jar encased inside the suitcase's velvet padding.

Inside was bat guano.

It took a long time for people to discover the source of the Cretan Plague. But deep in the southern forests of Creta was a series of underground caves inhabited by vicious bats. One of the locals had visited the caves, unwittingly contracting the disease. When he visited the markets, well... everything else went downhill from there.

Henry had reserved the guano for his experiments with the Red Stone. But now, it would serve a different purpose. He took the jar out from the suitcase, and opened one of the metal drawers in the room. Henry gently placed the jar inside, then locked the drawer and gathered up his suitcase.

He didn't like to carry the guano around. Even when it was encased in something so secure, there was always the risk of something happening that would release the guano from its confines. Of course, he never had to worry about that again. He had Red Stones after all.

He left the room with the suitcase in tow. At this time of the day, the construction workers weren't around just yet. But in the distance he could already see the fumes from the smelters far away. The people of Youswell were hard working and dedicated to their mining business.

As soon as he stepped out of the building, his cell phone went off.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Sir, we've just been notified that several Drachman businesses have pulled their investments from XYZ Ltd.," the person on the opposite end informed him.

"What? Which ones?"

"Pendleton Corp., Stavley and Sons, N&W... a couple more."

Henry stopped walking towards his parked car. Something nagged at him. Pendleton Corp. was a geothermal company providing advanced electric sources to the Drachman populace. Stavley and Sons was a diamond cartel. N&W provided tourism services on the Drachman mountain ranges. Something wasn't quite right here. They all seemed to be related to...

"Did they give a reason why?" he barked, almost angry that the person didn't immediately elaborate, when really it was the most significant piece of information he needed to know.

"They were worried about the state of their business. Their stocks have fallen, and they needed the money from the investment to help stabilize the situation."

"What happened to their businesses? Why are their stocks falling?"

"You haven't heard? Apparently, there's a nation-wide scare, sir. Of a volcano eruption."

Henry paused, and almost laughed. He felt torn between hanging up or cracking a joke.

"A volcano," Henry repeated. "In Drachma? All the mountains there are dormant!"

"For some reason, one of them started to give signs of activity near midnight."

That's it. Henry pressed the end-call button on his phone's screen so hard that the screen cracked. He made his way to his car and threw the stupid gadget on the passenger seat. He opened up the news radio. He only had to wait a few minutes before newscasters began covering the story of how smoke was seen above one of Drachma's towering mass of rock and that volcanic activity was confirmed by scientists.

"Dammit!" he yelled, slamming his fists on his steering wheel. The Drachman businesses that pulled out were huge. Their absence would be felt throughout XYZ Ltd.

Great. Just great. This was just what he needed right now. Even that stupid Mámù hadn't contacted him for days to update him on that stupid Xingese nation-hopper. Was nobody else in this god-forsaken land capable of anything?

Angrily, he revved up his car, and drove back to his main office in Central City.

-o-

Mei looked at the decrepit building, checking to see if the number indicated by the rusting metal plates on the gate matched the one written on the paper she was holding. 82 Looker Street. Well, she and Alphonse got the place right. Except nothing about this little section of the town could quite be described by the word 'looker'.

"You think this is really his home?" Al asked her.

"I don't know. Your brother said that Dr. Marcoh relocates many times a year. This might not be his home, but this is where he lives for now," Mei answered. She folded the piece of paper, and tucked it away into her pocket. Together, they walked through the lobby of the apartment building, and took the elevator up to the fifth floor.

Al knocked on the third unit. After a moment or two, the door opened. Behind it was a kind-looking old man with a graying mop of hair.

"Dr. Marcoh?" Al asked. "I am Alphonse Elric, and this is my friend, Mei Chang."

"Ah, yes. Winry Rockbell gave me a heads up about both of you. Come in." He opened the door wider to allow the two of them to enter his apartment. The unit was small but neat, cozy despite its sparseness. But that was to be expected from someone who moved a lot. He offered them a seat and asked if they wanted anything to drink. Mei politely declined, though Al accepted a glass of water.

"I take it you're here about the Red Stone," Dr. Marcoh stated as he took a seat across from them.

"Yes," Mei answered. "We were told that you were one of the doctors who helped develop it." When they had noticed Dr. Marcoh's name signed on one of the documents from the files that Lieutenant Hawkeye allowed them to browse through, Winry decided that perhaps it would be best if they contacted Marcoh to see if he was open to discussing the project with them.

He'd been a quiet one. All this time, he had offered his services to clients of Auto-Mail, and none of them had known that he'd been involved in one of the biggest game-changers in medical history. It was rare that Auto-Mail had such an oversight.

Marcoh was quiet for some time. He sighed, almost forlornly. With a wave of his hand as if attempting to dismiss the subject, all he said was, "The project is dead. The Red Stone could never be what we want it to be."

Al gave her a sideways glance.

"Actually, the Red Stone has been created, and it is already circulating in the underground markets," Mei informed him. She watched as the old man stilled. Then doubt and quiet horror slowly appeared on his face.

"That's impossible!" he whispered.

Al shook his head. "No, sir. We have evidence that someone has been using it. And from what we know, they've been using it for about two years now."

"But do you know what it takes to create that medicine?" he asked, his eyes full of fear. "President Grumman would never allow it! He disbanded the research group after our deadlock couldn't be resolved. He agreed that the means is much too horrific for the ends." He clutched the arms of his chair.

"That's the thing. The prototype that you and your team created was given away," Mei explained. "It was used as collateral in a loan from XYZ Ltd., a loan that saved the country from Bradley and saw Grumman's rump on the highest seat in the government."

"Henry Chu has used the prototype to create more advanced versions of the Red Stone," Al finished. He didn't say what anyone with some common sense would deduce from that comment: that Henry Chu would never be above experimenting on people if he managed to build something as phenomenal as a cure-all antidote.

The look of horror deepened on Dr. Marcoh's face. "Henry Chu? But... but how could Grumman have let that happen?"

"They were desperate. They had very little choice. It doesn't matter now. What matters is that we need to find another way to create this medicine," Al said.

Dr. Marcoh shook his head as if trying to rid it of confusion and shock. "There is no other way!" he exclaimed. "The best we can hope for is to bury this knowledge, the very idea, of this medicine. Nobody should be tempted to make it. Go to the State Military and ask them to take care of Henry Chu."

"We are trying to do that already. But don't you see? With his hoard of Red Stones and a recipe book for how to make more, Henry Chu is basically one of the most powerful men in the entire country! Perhaps the entire continent!" Mei countered. "Already, he's used this medicine to extort, manipulate, blackmail and toy with people's lives! There will always be things to cure. We'll never run out of diseases or accidents. The only way we can dethrone Chu from his position of power is if we can also provide the very thing he monopolizes. Only then we can take his power away."

The doctor stood up and turned around, his head bowed. "This is very, very bad... but I'm afraid you're talking to the wrong person." He turned to them, eyes haunted and defeated. "I really don't know of another way. If I do, I would have implored to revive the project long ago, you see."

Al set down his glass. "People will kill for this," he said softly. "They already have. With Henry Chu the only one who can create the Red Stone, the entire country might descend into chaos. People would bid for it. They wouldn't care that people would have to suffer for this thing to be created – not when they have their own priorities to think about. Even good people would sacrifice others for it, if they have someone they want to save..."

Al trailed off into silence and Mei knew that he was thinking about Lan Fan.

"Dr. Marcoh," she began, turning back to the old man ahead of her. "If you don't know an alternative method now, would it be possible for you to think of one soon?"

"I don't know..." Marcoh admitted. "It took a team of thirty doctors and researchers to even get as much progress as we actually did. The problem is, how do we make the cells learn without training? It's impossible."

"Ten years ago, nobody thought a medicine like this would be possible either," Al said, trying to sound encouraging.

"Still... we're not running a magic show. We can't do anything that defies the law of nature. We can't expect a miracle just because we ask for one."

"Won't you work with us at all?" Mei asked.

That caught Dr. Marcoh's attention. He looked back at them, eyeing them as if he was seeing them under a different light.

"Work with you? You mean... hmm. You're young but..." he whispered almost to himself. "I didn't think that you were planning to do something about it yourselves."

"There's no one else," Al told him. "Everyone else had given up. Just like you did."

"What is your plan?" Dr. Marcoh asked. "Creating the Red Stone from scratch without testing on live subjects might not be the most realistic goal here."

"Well that's what we're aiming for," Mei said, trying not to sound disappointed. She really did hope that perhaps Marcoh had some little trick, some kind of secret, up his sleeve that would make their lives a little easier. Now she only felt like a naïve little girl, rushing impulsively into something that was way over her head.

"No Plan B?"

She and Alphonse looked at each other. Even if they got rid of her father, the Red Stone had already leaked into the market. That was enough to pique people's attention.

There was one other alternative, one that was much less appealing, but could be the only way to stop the chaos that would ensue once people started vying for it.

"We need to destroy all the Red Stones that my father made," Mei answered. "And deal with everyone involved in its development or anyone else who knows about it. But we have to ensure that that's only our last resort. If we can, we need to find another way to make the stones."

-o-

"Wait, Ma... so what exactly did you do?"

"Oh c'mon, like it's hard to activate a dormant volcano?" Ling's mother answered, her face sporting a self-satisfied smirk. Ling thought she looked way too smug on the screen of his smart phone.

"How about all those villagers at the foot of the mountain?" Ling asked, close to panic.

His Ma clicked her tongue. "Ah I'm joking, okay? Don't worry too much. I didn't do anything to the mountain. I did, however, had the sensors act up a little."

Ling gave her a disbelieving look. "I don't think the Drachman officials would be making such a fuss about it if it's just a bug."

"I have my ways," Yuna shrugged. "Now, tell me about what's going there in the East."

"I'm in the hospital right now," Ling answered. "Grandpa, Lan Fan and I are visiting Fu to see how he's doing." Fu was not yet awake, but Lan Fan was allowed to see him and sit by him. Knowing that she might want a few moments by herself, Ling opted to stay in the waiting area, where he decided to give his mother a call.

"And?" his mother prompted. "How is Fu?"

"Surprisingly better!" Ling admitted. He knew that Amestris lagged a little behind Xing when it came to medical advancements, though he probably wouldn't be making an exactly fair statement considering that Lan Fan never went to a specialist in Amestrist. Back then, she had relied on the Red Stone to fix up anything that might be wrong with her grandfather without actually knowing what those might be. With some help from the doctors here in Xing, Fu had received some operations and medicines to actually alleviate a few of his ailments.

Off the bat, some of the improvements were noticeable. When he had looked through the window on the door to Fu's room, he found the old man's usual pallid complexion tinged with some colour. The doctors had reported that his breathing had eased and his fever was gone. Lan Fan had relaxed visibly.

"That's good to know," Yuna commented. "You guys won't be able to get Red Stones there in Xing. And it did seem to me as if the Red Stone wasn't really making Fu better. Hopefully with the attention he gets there, he does start making some real progress."

Ling noticed Lan Fan exit her grandfather's room and start making her way to the waiting area.

"I'll call you later, Ma," he said, before hanging up.

He greeted Lan Fan's obvious relief with a smile. "So?" he asked.

"Well, Grandpa woke up, so the nurses had to do several check-ups," she told him. "But he looks way better! His eyes were clear, and he didn't look like he was in too much pain. He asked me about you, and I said that your Grandfather is letting me stay at your compound. He would probably like to speak with you later."

Ling grimaced. "Did you tell him about the... uh, the marriage."

"Nah, I didn't want to overwhelm him yet." Lan Fan added, "For his sake though, we really have to emphasize that it's fake."

They sat down on the benches off to the side of the hallway, waiting for Shàngwǔ to return from a call he was making in the lobby of the hospital.

"I've been meaning to ask you," she said, turning to him. "What happened to school?"

Ling shrugged, "I deferred my courses."

She sighed, her head bowed.

"Don't worry too much," he reassured her. "A lot of first-years don't complete required courses right away anyway. The University program is super-flexible. I'll come back next semester and start over." He didn't add the part that perhaps going back the following semester was being too optimistic.

"And Ms. Yuna?" she asked.

"Oh out and about, here and there. Making trouble, it seems like. Nobody messes with Ma's car and gets away with it unscathed."

Lan Fan's lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

"Ma will try to distract my father away from us and Auto-Mail," Ling said. "At least, that's her plan. I don't know how long it would last for. Your captors haven't reported back to him in a while. He will get suspicious soon, and might start to look for you again."

"He'd know I'm here," Lan Fan said, almost as if she was certain. "He's bound to realize that you've quit your school, and you must have come to Xing. He'll know for sure that you have something to do with my rescue."

"He won't be able to do much about it though," he said. "That's one of the benefits of hailing from such a large, powerful clan. My father wouldn't risk attacking the Yaos, not unless he wants his own poor clan to bear the blunt of a retaliation."

"Speaking of the Chu clan, have you figured out a way we can discover your father's plans?"

Ling shook his head, his bangs swaying with the movement. "No, I didn't. But what I did figure out is that maybe... maybe we don't need to know the specifics."

"How are we supposed to stop whatever 'evil' schemes he has up his sleeve then?"

"That's the thing... I was thinking that instead of focusing on something so precise, maybe we should target something more general. Something that my father's plans would really depend on, no matter what those plans might be."

The girl beside him thought for a while. "The most obvious one I can think of is his wealth. You planning to rob him blind or something?"

Ling laughed. "I wish it were that easy! But nah, robbing him wouldn't take care of the steady flow of money into his bank accounts. Within a few weeks, he'd be good to go again."

She sent him a slow frown. "I'm sensing another Operation Greed. You really think that the only way to outdo your father is to bring XYZ Ltd. down!"

He didn't respond to that for a moment, not because it wasn't true, but that it actually was. Partly. Perhaps his brain had just gotten caught up in that singular mindset, so much so that it was hard to think outside the box. But every time he thought about it, the only solution he kept coming up with was to target his father's business.

"Well, it's what makes him powerful. It funds every single one of his ventures. He wouldn't even have been able to develop the Red Stones if he couldn't pay his way through the research. More than that, the company is almost like a living entity in and of itself. If somehow we were to eliminate my father, it's possible that someone else would just takeover the company and start where he left off."

"It's also possible that Chu can build another 7-11 business," Lan Fan pointed out.

"His momentum would be slow. If he decides to start from scratch, I doubt it would be as big as XYZ Ltd. To add to that, the total failure of his previous company would make investors wary."

"So, whatever this Operation Greed 3.0 is, it has to be huge and very, very damaging to your father's business."

Ling leaned his head back on the wall. Not even two weeks after the failure of Operation Greed 2.0, and here he was again, brewing the next one. He didn't feel that good about it. Twice, he had made huge mistakes that put a lot of people he cared about in danger. And who knew how many more had been affected by his reckless actions.

"We have to begin preparing anyway," she told him. "Your Grandfather is right. Whatever Chu is planning, he's not going to come with sticks and stones – not if he intends to butt heads with the governing body of two nations! We only have a month. The earlier we start, the better."

"I just wish we knew where to hit him. Somewhere that makes the most damage," he whispered. "Every time I fail, I just can't help but think that my father has no weaknesses."

An hour later, a nurse came to them to let them know that Fu would be able to see them. Ling was glad that his own grandfather was done with his business call so that the Yao chief could introduce himself to Fu... and perhaps be a supportive crutch once it was time to tell the old man of Ling's mischievous ploy to rescue his granddaughter from the clutches of Chu's men.

Fu was sitting up on the bed, propped by fluffed up pillows. His face was neutral, though his eyes glinted with an ease that Ling had never before saw in them. Lan Fan sat beside him and took his hand in her own.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him gently.

He snorted, "Like I can actually breathe!"

She chuckled. "I'm guessing that's a good thing."

Fu looked past her shoulder, up at Ling and Shàngwǔ.

"Uh, right. Ling helped us leave the worn-down shack we were trapped in," Lan Fan explained. "This is Mister Shàngwǔ, Ms. Yuna's father. He's taking care of the hospital costs, and is letting me stay at their home."

Fu's eyes narrowed, clearly understanding the large debt that he owed, and knowing that all this kindness might not have been transacted for free. Lan Fan looked back at Ling, then awkwardly pulled out the certificate that she's obligated to carry with her everywhere.

"For now, we have a... fake arrangement. While we haven't sorted out our citizenship status yet, it's best we play along." She unfolded the document, and showed it to her grandfather.

Ling felt, more than saw, the flash of movement when the sick, old man catapulted from the far end of the bed to grab him by his collar. In a blink, what was once filled with blank space, Ling's vision was now entirely occupied by Fu's seething face.

"Just what do you think you're doing to my granddaughter?" Fu snarled.

"Sweet, holy mother of god," Ling answered, knowing full well that that wasn't a reasonable response at all, but not knowing what else he could say.

A laugh erupted from behind him, and he relaxed a little when his own grandfather reached out to put a calming hand on Fu's shoulder.

"Relax, my friend," Shàngwǔ said. "Please, trust in the honour of the Yaos! You and your granddaughter are regarded as precious guests, and we only extend to you the hospitality you deserve."

Fu descended into a small coughing fit, which urged Lan Fan to put him back below the covers.

"Don't worry too much about things, Grandpa. They're taking good care of both of us."

Ling found a chair in the corner of the room on which to sit and allow his heart rate to go back to normal. Fu could be so scary at times. He must have been a very efficient warrior back in the day. Ling wondered if Lan Fan had ever been scared of the man when she'd been younger. He was probably very strict with her.

Taking deep breaths, he looked around the small room. It wasn't bad, not at all. Quite cozy, despite the nauseating smell of anesthetic that seemed to be the natural aroma of every single hospital that Ling had visited. Beside the chair was a small table. A potted bonsai sat on top, accompanied by a folder with several coloured papers inside. Curious, Ling flipped the folder open and found some of Fu's information inside. There seemed to be several copies of one document, created by a carbon paper attached to the back of the top page.

While Lan Fan explained the events of the past few days, Ling found himself playing with the carbon layer of the paper, scraping off bits and pieces. The residue accumulated beneath his fingernail, and he blew on it to get it out. He watched as the residue fell, crumbling on top of the table.

It was strange how something so flimsy like that could be made of the same element as the hardest mineral in the entire planet. Carbon was so interesting. What made a material strong in certain cases could also make it the weakest in others.

Ling paused.

He replayed the thought in his mind.

Just then, he realized that he'd always been so busy looking for a weakness in his father, that he never bothered to really look at his strengths. Strengths that could become weaknesses under the appropriate conditions and circumstances.

Ling smiled. He just had an idea.

-o-

Paninya clicked her boots against the ceramic tiles of the rooftop. Not her rooftop. She didn't know whose house it was. It just had a nice view from the roof. The suburbs were one of the places she liked to roam at night when she needed to think clearly. She liked the cities too – higher buildings always gave her a high, but nobody slept in the cities. It was noisy and bright; not ideal for mind-clearing.

Find the 2 million sens, they said. Hurry up about it, they said.

Winry, you owe me big.

These people had next to no idea how to find stolen objects! They think she was a miracle worker! There was craft to stealing, an art that very few could master. Subverting a theft was an even finer art.

Paninya snickered. Look how far she made it! The very admins of Auto-Mail was trusting her to find stolen money (and a lot of it too!), and bring it all back to them. She felt a soft ember of pride when she thought about it.

And a little pissed too. Didn't they know how difficult the task they asked her to do? And within such little time too!

She'd already explored Manos's apartment. But she'd already known before she went there that she wouldn't find the money stored there. Thieves never put the money where they live. But she went anyway, because she was sure that Hunter Manos would have known other people wouldn't think that he'd put the money there, so it would be the best place to put the money.

Paninya shook her head. Thinking recursively like this always hurt her head. At least, when she tried to analyze things deeply and accurately. She relied more on gut instinct. Most of the time, she would just get a very strong hunch about a certain place, and that was where she would find the object she was looking for.

She straightened her stance and looked ahead of her to the East. She breathed in and out for a few moments.

Nothing. No hunches.

She shrugged, and turned to the North.

An hour ride north would take her to Central Area. Her mind quickly flashed through the different possible places that someone could stash cash there – basically, anywhere. And that was as good as nowhere. If nothing stood out, Paninya's rule was that it wasn't worth exploring.

Turning around slowly, she scanned the horizon, seeing in her mind's eye the many landmarks she memorized. Each landmark determined what the area would be like – a shopping centre tended to be surrounded with high-density residential blocks. Factories were usually surrounded by a large expanse of land; nobody really wanted to dwell in buildings right beside factories. So on and so forth.

Finally she faced South. South City was where the final stage of Operation Greed 2.0 occurred. Ling said he had checked the bag of money twice before the day had dawned. If Manos didn't have any accomplice in his betrayal, the most likely hiding place for the money would be somewhere in South City, where the boy would have enough time to relocate two million sens and be there on time for the operation.

Intuitively, Paninya skipped down the sloped roof and took a graceful jump across to the next house.

She had known her best bet was South City, but after a week of looking, she was nowhere near close. That was why she wanted to try out other areas, but nothing gave her that instinctive pull like South City did.

Now, Winry had called her mere hours before and told her that Ling was planning something big on the other side of the continent. And they needed the money as soon as possible.

Paninya jumped from roof to roof until she reached the end of the block. She hailed a cab – filing away the credit for Winry to reimburse later; after all, it was an expense incurred for a job. She went straight to the heart of South City where the operation took place.

Hunter Manos had posed as one of the admins that would be questioned by the State Military. He would have been in the rented office where the co-admins were supposedly having an early morning administrative session. Paninya trekked over to the building where Edward had rented the office.

The building was closed now. It didn't matter. Simple things like that didn't stand in her way. She managed to get in within a few minutes. It was dark but the hallways were lined with small fluorescent bulbs. She took the stairs to the second floor, and entered the office they rented.

Her first thought was that she hoped the cleaning services didn't manage to stumble across two million sens here, because if they did, Paninya was certain she would no longer be able to find it. And the room gleaned in the bluish glow of the moonlight. It was as clean as offices could get.

She roamed around slowly, observing every crook and canny on the walls, knocking on desks and furniture for hidden compartments. She would usually also check the obvious places, just in case people applied the convoluted logic of nobody looking for it there. But this time, she was sure that had the money been that obvious, it would already be filched by other people.

Paninya came to the large oaken desk at the center. This was probably where the co-admins had sat, waiting for the signal from the colonel. She stepped towards one of the seat when –

She paused and cocked her head as she listened to her step. Something felt hollow on the floor. Crouching down, she pushed aside the rug that covered the wooden panels, and knocked against them. She smirked.

Flashing an army knife from her pocket, she slid the edge of a sharp knife in between two of the panels, and lifted one of them up. It came away easily, and the rest of the panels peeled back when she pushed them away. Below was a small cubby hole where a black velvet bag lay.

Bingo!

Lacing her fingers through the rope that tied the bag, she pulled away the edges until the knot came undone. She smelled the aroma of fresh bills before she even saw the slips of paper. Her grin widened.

AN: Alrighty! Ling's resurrecting Operation Greed. Again. I'm sure you'll all know how this one would turn out, right? Hehe. For pacing's sake, there would be a significant time skip starting next chapter. I figure the planning stage is best left secret, so that we can all watch OG 3.0 unravel with some anticipation!

Oh, the thunder-storm scene was kindly requested by SailingTheOTP. So if you enjoyed that scene, you have her to thank for that!