Disclaimer: Legendarily Quiet does not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of the songs used in this . . . fanfiction.

Roy Mustang rested his head on his desk. He could already feel the beginnings of a migraine behind his eyes. Why him, of all people? Just because Fuhrer Bradley had decided that the military needed to 'have a bit of fun', didn't mean that they needed to have a 'festival', with entertainment provided by the soldiers of the military, that Roy had to sign up someone from his team to perform in!

Roy got irritated just by thinking about it. What did people take him for? Just because he was the Flame Alchemist and could do flashy stuff with fire didn't mean he was some kind of street performer! Everyone else on his team was out of the question . . . those buffoons would just embarrass him on stage.

A knock sounded on the colonel's office door. Roy quickly lifted his head off his desk and grabbed his pen. Hawkeye entered the room, with her arms full of – you guessed it – more paperwork. Joy.

"Fuhrer Bradley has just sent out a message sir," Hawkeye said, setting the papers down on his desk, "The entertainment for the festival is not allowed to involve alchemy."

Roy put down his pen. "What?" he asked dumbly.

Hawkeye gave a little sigh before saying, "You have to provide 'common' entertainment for people. Things like juggling, singing, dancing, drama – anything that non-alchemists and civilians could do too." She frowned. "That means no alchemy, and no gun shows."

Roy groaned and put his head in his hands. "You can't be serious Lieutenant," he said. "The men here have no talent! That's why we join the military!"

"Hey! I beg to differ. I know for a fact that Breda has some mad dancing skills." Havoc stuck his head through the office door, having heard the conversation. "We could have him dance on stage!"

There was a chorus of laughter from the outer office, and the sounds of Breda protesting could be heard. "We could have you do a skit on one hundred ways to lose your girlfriend!" Breda shot back. The silence that ensued let everyone know that Havoc had been owned.

Roy turned his attention back to Riza, and gave her a coy smile. "You know Lieutenant," he said, "you would be a hit–"

"I respectfully decline, sir," Hawkeye cut him off before he could even finish his suggestion, "and the performances must be appropriate for all ages. This is a family event."

Damn. Another opportunity lost. "Well, what do you propose we do?" he asked. "Who here is talented enough not to get booed of the stage within the first thirty seconds?"

"We can hold an audition sir," Hawkeye suggested. "We can see what everyone's talents are. We can even call Edward here as well."

"Ah, yes." Roy looked at his calendar. "Well what do you know; the shrimp is due to report in today."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO TINY AN ANT COULD TRAMPLE HIM?!" Edward surprised everyone in the office when he appeared from out of nowhere. In a whirlwind of red, he ran into the colonel's office, slamming the door shut behind him. He slammed his report on Roy's desk and declared, "I'm not short, damn it!"

Hawkeye cocked her gun. "Language Edward," she said sternly.

Edward turned to her, surprised. His expression then turned sheepish and he mumbled, "Sorry ma'am."

"I've got it!" Roy snapped his fingers – luckily he wasn't wearing his gloves – and announced, "We can have Fullmetal do his short rants for the performance!" Edward looked at him in confusion while Riza just looked disappointed at her superior's lack of maturity.

"What performance?" Ed asked.

"The military will be hosting a festival here in Central," Hawkeye explained, "soldiers from all departments have been asked to provide entertainment."

"Well, you can count me out!" Edward said, ambling over to the couch in the office. He flopped down on it and said, "Can you just read my report so I can get the hell out of here?"

Edward's face suddenly blanched as he remembered that Hawkeye was still in the room. "Sorry, Lieutenant!" he said, sitting upright and looking ready to bolt. Hawkeye sighed, but decided to forgive Ed because they had more pressing matters at hand.

Roy voiced her thoughts by saying, "I'm not reading anything until we have an act for the festival, Fullmetal."

Edward huffed and got up to leave. "I'll come back later then. But seeing as you're a first class procrastinator, you probably won't be seeing me again until sometime next month!" With a low chuckle he slipped out the door.

"GET BACK HERE FULLMETAL!"

Mustang stood in the outer office, facing all his subordinates. "Men," he began, "the time has come to step up and show me how strong your loyalty to me really is." He looked each of them in the eye, who each looked back solemnly, except for Edward, who glared at him. "Who here is willing to volunteer to perform at the festival?"

He was met with dead silence.

Roy sighed. "Thank-you everyone, for being so ready to answer the call." Everyone – except Edward – looked guiltily at their feet. "It looks like I have no choice but to force the talent out of you."

Around the room, officers paled. Fuery clasped his hands together tightly, and Falman looked like he was trying to disappear in a corner. Breda and Havoc somehow looked amused and worried at the same time, while Edward just looked bored. Hawkeye stood dutifully at Roy's side, face devoid of any expression.

"Let the auditions commence!"

The first thing the colonel did was check to see if Breda did in fact have mad dancing skills. He did not. The same went for Falman and Fuery. Falman had done this boring shuffle move with his feet, while Fuery had just stood there, sweating like crazy. Edward had refused to move at all at first, and only got up when the colonel threatened to lower his research budget. He executed a number of martial arts moves that didn't look half bad, but didn't count because they were too closely related to the military. The most promising candidate had been Havoc, but his dance moves were too . . . suggestive, so he had been disqualified. Hawkeye was excused from dancing because there was no way Mustang was going to let other officers drool at his lieutenant moving her body on stage.

"Hey! Colonel Bastard, what about you?" Edward pointed at Mustang accusingly when he tried to move on to the next act. "You have to dance too. You're part of this team; it's only fair."

Mustang just smirked at him. "My moves are quite pleasing to the eye," he said. "We don't need mothers swooning after seeing me, leaving their children unattended."

The next act was juggling. Everyone but Breda and Fuery were able to do it perfectly. But it was too perfect. It was so perfect it was just plain boring to watch. The balls were being thrown in the air and caught again, but there was no flair. Not until Edward started chucking the balls at Havoc and Breda, but since this was a family event there was a danger of kids being injured if Fullmetal did that at the festival.

"You know what?" Havoc said. "The colonel is right; military men have no talent."

"No useless talent," Edward corrected.

Damn right.

Roy knew that everyone on his team except for Fullmetal and maybe Fuery was good at acting. The question though was: what scene could they possibly act without losing their dignity? The rule that all things related to military were not allowed was a big bummer. Conveying information to Havoc under the guise of talking to a girl over the phone was normally no big deal, but doing it in front of many people when there was no purpose behind it? That bordered on insanity.

With options running out, everyone in the office – except for Fullmetal – looked downcast. Roy panicked on the inside. If they couldn't come up with something, Mustang would be a laughingstock. He would be known as the colonel with a team that couldn't do anything worth shit. There was only one last thing to try.

"Ok guys," Roy said wearily. "Let's see if anyone here can sing. . ."

Fuery turned into a stuttering mess the moment all eyes were on him. "Tw-twinkle, twinkle, li-li-little s-staaar."

Nuh-uh. Military men were definitely not going to be represented by that.

Falman didn't even try. Everyone understood though; the man was always better at listening and not drawing attention to himself.

Breda was very enthusiastic. But he was way out of tune. "HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT! C'MON AND HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT! HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT, FIRE AWAAAY-AY-AY!"

That was a big no-no. There was no way Roy was going to be held responsible for inflicting that torture upon the public.

Havoc wasn't too bad, but his lungs were very weak – from smoking, no doubt – so his voice wasn't noteworthy, just average. "Juliet, marry me you'll never have to be alone. I love you, and that's all I really know!"

Like Falman, Hawkeye also refused to sing. Everyone protested – she's a woman, of course she can sing! – but after hearing the click of her gun everyone promptly shut up.

And to be honest Mustang did not want to have to sing either . . .

Fullmetal surprised them all. Roy figured he should have been expecting it; Ed's lungs were really powerful – to be able to rant that strongly for that long – but this was just astounding. Edward didn't even shout, yet everyone could feel the power and emotion in his voice.

"Let it go, let it go, can't hold it back anymooore! Let it go, let it go, turn away and slam the door!"

Roy felt his jaw hit the ground. He sounded just like a professional! All around the office, everyone was staring at Ed in shock. Edward was oblivious to the reactions of his audience though; for some reason his eyes were shut, and he continued singing.

"HERE I STAAND, AND HERE I'LL STAY. LET THE STORM RAGE OOON!"

Oh my gosh. Was that a vibrato Fullmetal was doing? Roy felt shivers go down his spine. How the hell was this sound coming out of a sixteen year old boy in front of him?

Edward closed the song by singing something about the cold, and completely transformed. The passionate singer they had seen not more than two seconds ago suddenly became the bored, disinterested, grumpy teenager they all knew him to be.

Silence reigned in the office, but everyone's minds were buzzing. Edward stood there and glared and everyone. "What?" he finally asked, his voice laden with annoyance.

Roy was the first to break out of his stupor. "Well, we've found our act for the festival."

It was comical, really. Edward stood there with a confused expression on his face, before his eyes suddenly widened in understanding and horror. Before anyone could stop him, he was streaking towards the door. Unfortunately, what would have been the fastest departure known to mankind was interrupted when Alphonse chose that moment to open the door from the other side. Ed ran right into his brother.

CLANG!

"Quick! Don't let him escape!" Mustang ordered.

Before Edward could regain his senses, Breda and Havoc were on him like a pack of wolves. Alphonse stood in front of the mess of flailing limbs, and Roy felt a twinge of sympathy for the confused boy.

"ALPHONSE! SAVE ME!" Ed cried out in desperation.

That was all the encouragement Al needed to spring into action. He dove into the fray, and Ed was sitting safely atop his shoulders in an instant.

"Alphonse, let us explain. We need Edward." Hawkeye, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward. "Just hear us out, please."

Edward shook his head violently. "Don't listen to them Al! Let's just get the hell out of here!"

It was clear to Roy that Ed really did not want to sing at the festival. But the colonel was definitely not about to let such talent go to waste. Still . . . he almost felt sorry for Fullmetal.

Almost.

Fullmetal was a dog of the military, and he had to do his part. There was no way he was going to weasel out of this one.

Roy stepped forward. With a small smirk gracing his features, he told the younger Elric all about the festival and what was required of military soldiers. As he watched Al's demeanour turn from worried to thoughtful, he knew with complete certainty that he would not be made a laughingstock after all.

L.Q: I found this little treasure while looking through some old files.

Lest: I had completely forgotten about this!

L.Q: Dude, you weren't even there when I wrote it . . . how could you forget if you never knew about it in the first place?

Lest: . . .

L.Q: Anyways, I found a second chapter to this, but when I opened it, I found that it cut off right in the middle of a sentence, so I can only assume that I had been planning to write more . . .

Lest: Keep a look out for it! It'll be posted . . . eventually. Until then, please leave a review!