I will be wearing a new outfit to camp activities today as a means of expressing my identity.

[Judging by her appearance alone, Hawkeye has clearly seen better days. Face stern with concentration, a small frown pulls her mouth in what seems to be its habitual expression. Her long blonde hair is loose, traces of dirt and blood still clinging stubbornly in patches, and along the curve of her cheek. The stiff, white bandages encasing her throat at least are clean, obviously freshly applied. It's clear from her surroundings that she has not yet left. Her eyes set in a hard expression, damaged only a little by the dark smudges of exhaustion and blood loss. She holds the camera a little too close, a little too awkwardly, like a handheld radio - it's clear she isn't aware of the camera.]

This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye broadcasting, former aide to Fuhrer Bradley and Colonel Mustang of Eastern and Central Command, calling all Central and Northern units - please report. I have been provided with an explanation for my whereabouts and this device for contact. However, my inquiries on my comrades have not been sufficient answered.

Any Amestrian citizens affected by the coup who receive this broadcast, please respond. We [--if she is hesitant over the use of the royal we, given her injured and bedridden state with no knowledge of any of her unit being present to back her up, it doesn't show--] will do our best to assist you.

[Business completed, she manages to shut down the broadcast entirely, cutting the picture.]

And to think you were going on and on about how hard it was going to be to find a clubroom!!