Olivia was about to go absolutely mad. Hold up in the Barracks, she wasn't sure if she was allowed to leave. She forgot to ask... wait for orders they said right? Well that would assume she was supposed to wait here then. How else would they reach her? Sending someone running through the city looking for her would just be annoying. Who knows where she could be. Although, those messengers were pretty good at finding the people they were looking for...

No no, it was best she stay put. Just in case. She hadn't been given direct permission to leave, and it felt like a stupid thing to go ask someone about. She didn't want to seem dumb, but also didn't want to seem like she was eager to leave. Whether or not she WAS eager to leave or not wasn't the point. Yet her mind kept going back and forth. Just ask someone... no, just stay put. It can't hurt to at least know if she's allowed to though, right? Well that information wouldn't be too useful if she doesn't intend on leaving... but if she CAN leave, she will, right? But it's better to just not ask...

Her brow twitched in annoyance as she just sat there on a sofa, as if she was in a meeting with nobody immediately sitting with her. Hands on her knees, looking like she was about to burst with annoyance. The problem was, all of this annoyance was with herself so it wasn't fair to let it out. But this waiting was TORTURE. Why was it torture again? She could go read something. Make some food, exercise or train. Something just kept her down, making her feel as if she was supposed to just sit here. Almost like she didn't have permission to even move, or breath... was she supposed to breath?

THIS WAS GETTING RIDICULOUS. She was supposed to be a Major now, right? She couldn't very much hold that rank if she couldn't even work up the nerve to get off her butt without permission to do so. Her father always said working for this kind of group was more personal... everyone knew everyone, but that was a different time surely. This was a completely different organization. She pulled herself up to her feet with a huff and turned to walk out of the lounge area into a hallway, and after a short check of what was where, headed off to the... did this place have a library? No, best go somewhere else. She ended up heading to the training room, and took out her Aunt's sword to get in some practice. It let her focus on something else, like stabbing the poor dummy that was her current victim.

Like every morning, Amelie woke with little fanfare, her eyes opening to a dark room and a day where the sun had not yet risen. The cold atmosphere made her left shoulder ache, parts of it still numb where the metal of her automail met with skin. After nearly a decade of living with it however, she had grown used to the inconvenience and slid out from her assigned cot. Her hair trailed behind her, a long blonde mess that stuck out in every which way as she slipped into her training outfit of a white tank top tucked into form fitting pants. Afterwards she spent the rest of her time doing the rest of her morning rituals with no real urgency or rush. After all, she had already been accepted into AMSIF and they had yet to assign her to anything as of this moment. All things would happen in due time.


The quiet thumping of metal and flesh contacting wood served to drown out Amelie's thoughts as she practiced on the wing chun dummy. She had already built up a sweat from her earlier run and routine. Right now in the training room, she was as alone in her mind as the room was, memories and scattered tangents roiling through her mind. As of late and for no particular reason, she kept on remembering the accident which led to her lost arm and as usual when those unpleasant memories rose again, she tried to drown them in a sea of trivia and facts on topics that ranged from history and alchemy down to what flowers were currently in season currently and in the next.

A sudden jolt of pain arced through her automail into the all the nerves delicately attached at her shoulder, shooting through her spine and then catapaulting its way all the way up to her brain. The brief discomfort made her hesitate for only a moment as she completed out the last set of her current form. Once they were done, she drew back from the dummy slightly, her eyes dully locked onto her arm as she experimentally flexed her steel muscles and fibers.

She then quickly resumed her forms.


Outside a slightly out of the way café at a table at the outside patio covered in shade by the surrounding buildings that seemed to loom over, Amelie was sitting on the slightly uncomfortable and chic metallic chair, a book in one hand and a stress ball in the other. At the foot of the table, a messenger bag relaxed on one of the legs while the top held two cups of coffee steaming next a small collection of origami animals. The cup closest to her had been browned thoroughly while it's opposite companion that waited at an empty seat across from the woman with the monstrous sweet tooth was pure black.

The empty seat would not have to wait long for a recepient however, as a woman with long auburn hair and soft caramel eyes playfully placed her chin on top of Amelie's head. The acrobat's view of her book obscured by a trio of fresh flowers, their fragrance intermingling deeply with the new woman's own. Amelie retaliated with a light smack of the leather cover of which she was rewarded with light laughter and a gentle hug. Roselyn glided over to her seat afterwards and the pair began to talk the afternoon away.


Three fresh flowers beamed brightly from a vase situated at the corner of Amelie's desk. They had joined a number of others that were still alive, but obviously not flourishing as they could have been. Their bright aura contrasted nicely with the dry eyes that plagued her face as a loud "hnnng" sounded throughout the barracks accompanied by the cracking and popping from stretching cramped muscles and joints that came from doing endless amounts of paperwork for the last few hours. Despite already being accepted, there were still a number of forms that she still had to soldier through, though most of it was mainly doing the introduction research and reading through all dry manuals that AMSIF assigned to all new members.

Still, she did her best to write the most diligent notes she could so that if she ever had to reference any of it, sleep wouldn't threaten her if she did so. There were also a number of personal papers that were neatly tucked away into their own separate corners with the thickest stacks being the various research notes that her sister was willing to share with her and wanted to pass on to their mother who was technically Amelie's colleague - the thought still weirded her out.

She had her fill of writing and technical texts however and decided that the rest of her night would be better spent finishing the book Roselyn had recommended.


The only sound in the training room was the quiet thumping of metal and flesh on wood. After a few short days, Amelie had already set her regular rhythm around the building, though the thoughts of the accident kept on resurfacing more and more and her steel limb continued to complain and ache.

The slow humdrum was broken however when a blonde girl stormed, annoyance surrounding her body as she held her blade and wailed on another wooden dummy. Intrigued and curious, Amelie stopped her own exercises and observed the girl as she went through her saber forms.

The way the girl moved, her stances, her mannerisms, the unnerving strength behind each blow, it reminded Amelie of a certain living Wall of Briggs. Coupled with the distinctive sword, her looks, and the fact that Amelie had seen her in passing several times before, the investigator had a solid guess that the girl standing before her was probably Olivia Armstrong. It was said that she too had recently joined AMSIF, and Amelie supposed that those rumors weren't wrong anymore.

Curiousity continued to drive Amelie forward as she searched for a short, thin training sword, which didn't take her long. Testing the balance of the blade, the acrobat made her way towards one of the training rings and stood dead center as she called out to the girl with solid, but not unnecessarily loud, "Hey." Amelie waited until she had caught the Armstrong's attention, training blade casually relaxed and held in comfortable grip in her left hand before continuing with a simple "Olivia right? I'm Amelie. Wanna spar?"

Olivia swung at the dummy again, and again, then would stab at it, before going back to her slashing motions. There wasn't all that much grace or beauty to her motions, but the power behind each strike... it told a story of Olivia being taught one lesson that her Aunt had given her again and again. It was simple really.

"Never strike without the full intent to kill. Holding back is what will get YOU killed."

It was also probably the natural strength her family line had allowing her smaller frame to put far more force into each slash than it seemed like was possible, or even necessary.

It took her a moment to realize that someone had said something. She turned to see another person was in the room with her, something that in her frustration she hadn't exactly noticed. She was already out of breath from power walking her way here and then immediately swinging the sword around. She took a deep breath for a moment to calm herself down as she listened to the other, and gave a simple nod. "Sure, sorry I hadn't noticed anyone else was in here."

She made her way over to the other, and took a deep breath as she held the sword up, the long saber glimmering in the light. It looked very well taken care of, obviously a cherished gift. "Yes, I am Olivia Armstrong. And you are?"

Amelie gave an empty smile as she gave a small bow then widened her feet ever so slighty, just enough to move her from a casual to a relaxed, but ready, stance. "Major Amelie Yun, AMSIF, non-Alchemic specialist. Pleasure to meet you."

There was a lot that can be read from a person just by observing them. Some easier than others, but Amelie thought the girl striding toward her, all gleaming saber and heavy breaths, was fairly straightforward. Probably the quiet type, someone who takes in all the little things that make them tick and bottles them all up until either she gets a chance to release them or it blows up in someone's face, and while she wasn't certainly lacking in skill with the blade or the ridiculous power it seemed every person in her line inherited, it seemed as if the young Armstrong didn't know restraint, or perhaps just didn't care in the moment.

In any case, that just meant Amelie would have to be a little more considerate during their spar. The acrobat herself had worked up her usual sweat and though she had pushed herself a little harder than usual to quell the unusual but infrequent pains in her left shoulder, she herself was still energetic and showed no fatigue aside from deeper breaths than usual. Besides, this was just a friendly spar, a way for Olivia to show Amelie what type of person she was outside of the dossiers and textbooks the investigator had familiarized herself with over the past week, a chance to make a first connection with her future co-worker.

As soon as Olivia readied herself in the ring, Amelie gave her a slightly wider smile though there was still no emotion in her eyes, just the gaze of someone focused on a task. "Thank you for indulging me," she said, barely allowing the words to drop before bursting like a coiled spring toward her opponent, leaping forward in one movement.

The reach the saber had over Amelie's short practice blade gave her opponent the natural advantage, one that could be balanced but not negated if Amelie got inside of the saber's range. Her left hand was extended slightly forward, blade at the ready looking to parry aside the saber if Olivia would swing at her from the side, though Amelie doubted she'd be able to safely deflect all the power and recoil the Armstrong girl was capable of summoning. Instead, she focused all her energy into the flat palm of her right hand as she came closer, tightning her core, turning her body to the side, keeping her fingers tensed.

As soon as her left foot connected to the ground however, she blasted her momentum downwards into her stomach and then past down into her legs as she pivoted on the heel of her foot, dropping herself down low and aiming at her opponent's feet with a sweeping kick from her right leg.

"Ah, good, you're both here," came a voice as the two recruits broke apart from the last of multiple exchanges. Brigadier General Remington strolled into the room, a pair of folders tucked under her arm. "Quite the sharp back and forth, by the by. If you both have taken a liking to it, I advise you treasure a consistent sparring partner."

"Ah, but where are my manners? Brigadier General Amelia Remington, at your service. One of your Commanding Officers in AMSIF," she continued as she snapped quickly to a salute with enough practice behind it to be impeccable. "It's a pleasure to meet you both directly, and a greater joy still to present you both with your inaugural case. You'll be working together on it, and while it's nothing particularly glamorous or high profile it still needs to be taken care of. Here you are."

After returning to a resting stance, Amelia pulled the two folders out from under her arm and handed one each to Amelie and Olivia. "I've been asked to monitor the progress, as well as intervene if necessary. Not that we expect anything life threatening or over your head to occur, but purely as a precaution. Do note that I will be doing so from afar; I won't be assisting unless I absolutely have to."

The case in question was of a series of gold forgeries in the capitol over the past half month, created via alchemy and starting to spread throughout the city. The file featured a dizzying amount of data, most of which was extraneous- doubtlessly a byproduct of the Department of the Treasury's investigation prior to learning of alchemy's involvement and subsequently handing it over to AMSIF. Three key points managed to stand out, however.

1- Of the businesses the fraudulent gold had been traced to, none of the owners or employees were capable of alchemy.

2- Three businesses in particular saw the majority of the fraudulent gold; a clothing boutique that had surged in popularity and traffic, a high-class jewelry Store that saw few customers, and a butcher's shop that had a moderate consumer base.

3- The fraudulent gold was a relatively small amount, only enough to purchase everyday essentials and a few luxurious expenditures for the time frame, but little more.

"Any questions, Majors? Then you may begin."



OOC Information
Your first case is at hand! Someone is alchemizing gold, and that's a big no-no. Your job is to figure out who it is, find them, and apprehend them. Work with what you have, pick a course of action either together or as a team, carry it out and we'll go from there. Skipping to the location you'd like to investigate during your post is both acceptable and encouraged.

For the sake of simplicity, the assumption is that while it is uncommon and a little unusual, gold is accepted and legal tender in Amestris.

Pressing the piston into the beaker, the coffee grounds gently sank to the bottom. Genevieve watched with a small smile of melancholy on her dusted lips. She drew in a deep sigh of a breath and exhaled as she admired the French coffee press. Her fingers tapped gently on the counter top and counted the seconds with a string of precision at each touch. With a sudden amount of gusto, her wrist lifted and touched the top of the beaker, and with her other hand, she grabbed hold of the press and poured a the coffee into a milk white ceramic mug.

Her smile gingerly widened as the cup was brought two-handedly to her lips. She drew in a whiff of the coffee and took a small sip. Genevieve closed her eyes as the warmth touched her lips and the taste resonated in her mouth. For several seconds she stood in a hazy, silent admiration, and as if a switch had been pulled, her smile faded into a solemn seriousness, interrupted by a you-know-who who asked her to immediately find Brigadier General Amelia Remington.

And, just like that, Genevieve had work to do. She was off to the races. She was playing catch-up and back-up, again. This was nothing unusual as it was part of her upbringing. Coffee almost always came first in many manners, which showed itself to be an inconvenient measure at times, but the truth perpetually stood that there is no such thing as a perfect anecdote.

Genevieve took another sip from the mug.

I really ought to run.

The desire to deliver her message was present. It swished in her coffee mug as she walked charily around the quarters, trying to sense where the Brig. General was.

One - Two - Three - Four... The tip of her tongue, warm with coffee tapped against the roof of her mouth as she counted inaudibly to twenty. Ready or not... Her dark eyes looked around the facility, as she took took yet another sip from her mug. It was almost empty, and the caffeine was starting to push her to better obedience. Her hand lifted and the mug pushed against her lips as she took the last bit of coffee.

Here I come...

Decidedly beginning to walk with a swifter pace, which eventually developed into a jog and then a run, she continued to let intuition lead her to... Oh -- oh my. Is that Brigadier General Amelia Remington's voice? Genevieve turned into the Training Room to find that two others were already there:



“Yes, I have one...” She asked in between a quick breather. A smug, half smile was on her face, as she looked at the other two. The empty coffee mug in her hand was slightly tilted, facing towards them. Her eyes looked back at the Gen. Brigadier and her smile faded, showing a more sobering visage. “What was that, again?”