Title: Wrong Number
Author: Rubious
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist © Arukawa. This is a work of fanfiction and is for entertainment purposes only.
//thoughts//
* * *
Setting aside the latest reports he had received from the Elrics in their ongoing search for the Philosopher’s Stone, Colonel Roy Mustang shifted his attention to the group of subordinates standing before him, gesturing for them to sit down. Casting a glance at the female lieutenants, Riza Hawkeye and Wanda Ross, he wished that the military uniforms weren’t so bulky in appearance. //They have wonderful legs and shouldn’t be afraid to show them off. I’ll make that my number one priority when I get promoted to change the dress code and make the women wear miniskirts.//
“Sir?” Hawkeye asked, interrupting his reverie.
“I’m fine. I’ve asked you here in regards to the latest incident with Scar.” A knock on his office door caused him to pause. In an annoyed tone, he called out, “Come in.”
Scieszka, the bespectacled librarian who normally worked with Major Hughes, peered in. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting, sir, but you have an important call from a general in the Western District.”
His forehead furrowed, Mustang sighed and said, “Patch him through.” He picked up the receiver and spoke officiously, “This is Mustang.”
On the other end of the line, the nicotine-roughened voice said, “Colonel Manstank?”
“My name is Mustang, not Manstank,” the officer replied, disdain evident in his voice.
“I’m General Blinds Furlong, commander of the Western District. From the reports I’ve read, you were quite the vapid fellow on the last bivouac.”
“General, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mustang wished the person would hang up so he could resume the meeting.
“That’s so troublesome. Here it is. The person I need to speak is Hydzu. Is he under your command?”
“No, sir. Will you need anything else?”
“Nothing. Thank you very much, Colonel Manstank.”
The colonel slammed the phone down. “If that was someone’s idea of a practical joke, they’re going on report. The nerve of someone calling me Manstank.”
As he rose from his desk to instruct Scieszka to hold any future calls, particularly from any strange generals, the lieutenants snickered at how flustered their superior was. “At least, it wasn’t Hughes bragging about his daughter’s latest accomplishment,” Hawkeye whispered.
Mustang returned to his desk and the meeting progressed. After the topics were discussed, Lieutenant Havok raised his hand. “Sir, I’d like to bring up the matter of transfer.”
The colonel cocked an eyebrow and replied, “Oh, this is news to me.”
“I received my orders today to report to the X Unit in Westchester and this is the regulation uniform.” He eagerly removed his blue overcoat to reveal a black bodysuit with a large white circle with two smaller rings inside it emblazoned on the chest. He also donned a black headpiece.
Trying to stifle a giggle and failing, Mustang chortled, “Are you going to be used for target practice?” Nodding to Hawkeye, he said, “You won’t have to go to the gun range now. We have a volunteer to be a bull’s-eye.”
Havok realized the absurdity of the outfit’s appearance. Anxiously, he saluted and gasped, “Permission to be dismissed, sir?”
“Granted.” Havok rushed from the room and hoped to have the transfer order belayed.
Turning to the others, Mustang adjourned the meeting and sank back down into his seat, relieved that the irritating distractions had ended so he could return to the more pressing matter of how high the hems of the miniskirts would be once he was promoted.
THE END