Holy Homunculi, Robin!
Roy Mustang, sixteen-year-old ace rugby quarterback and school hero, was busy pushing aside his books in order to practice his violin (not that he ever needed to practice) when his sidekick, cute but nerdy Jean Havoc, came running up.
"What is it, Havoc?" Roy asked, tossing back his hair with a casual flip.
"Dreadful news, sir!" Havoc said. He was still holding his bag of schoolbooks. "The Homunculi are attacking the city!"
Roy looked up from his violin, and saw the looming figures on the horizon. "Dmn!" he swore. "How did I miss them kicking over the school library!"
"Sir!" a voice called from another direction. Both teenagers turned to see the approaching Riza Hawkeye. Naturally she was wearing the school uniform, and the short miniskirt bared her legs from ankle to hipbone. "The Homunculi are attacking!"
"Don't you worry," Roy said heroically. He rose to his feet, and slipped an arm round Riza's waist. She relaxed against him with a little sigh of gratitude for his manly protection, and he cupped her ripe buttocks with his hand. "This is a job for -- the Flame Alchemist!"
"Not that mysterious masked hero!" Havoc gasped.
"Not that incredibly handsome figure of romance!" Riza gasped.
"The very same," Roy said. He squared his shoulders. "Excuse me a moment while I slip round the corner to see if I can find him . . ."
Someone was shaking Roy's shoulder. He looked up blearily.
"Sir," Hawkeye said. She was in uniform. This meant trousers. How depressing life was. "Your papers are getting wet."
He looked down at the papers littering his desk. Well, it was only a little drool. With an attitude of manly unconcern, he stacked them and shoved them to one side. "No problem."
"Sir!" Jean Havoc burst in. "The Flame Alchemist is needed --"
Roy rose to his feet and struck a heroic pose. "And he will answer!"
Havoc and Hawkeye both stared at him. Havoc said, slowly finishing the sentence, "-- to deal with the sewage backflow problem at the sewage works after Fullmetal blew most of them up when he chased a criminal in there."
"Your coat, sir," Hawkeye said, slipping it over his shoulders.
"Now would be the time," Roy muttered, "for a secret identity."