And so he screamed.

His lungs contracted painfully as he gasped for air. His skin and nerves were on fire as he bled out on the prison floor. Insane laughter echoed above him. His eyes were glazed and he had trouble seeing through his tears and the searing pain.

He writhed on the floor, writhing, screaming, desperately calling out for someone who would never come.

"AL!"

His dear brother.

Where was he? Was he alive? Safe?

He desperately hoped for that to be true.

But, then again, the odds were never in the Fullmetal Alchemist's favor, were they?