While the Chief practices his best vengeful face and looks up the recipe for a fake corpse in some freaky alchemy cookbook, Breda and the rest of Team Mustang get to deal with the really annoying bits of this operation.
“Sir,” he says, and Roy could be imagining it, but he thinks Falman’s usually flat tone has a hint of panic in it. “Have you read this memo yet?”
It was so easy to forget how uneven alchemy made a fight. No ordinary guy ever had a chance.
Mustang's men watched her warily from their desks, all twitchy and afraid to meet her eye. That was good: nervous dogs were easier to train.