Archive of Our Own

Well, not quite literally. He didn’t stop breathing in the no-heartbeat, oxygen-deprivation, Ed-you-idiot-don't-go-into-the-light sense. Nor did he stop breathing in the drowning sense, either. Rather, it was as though his body just sort of... forgot how to function — he took a deep breath in, and just didn't quite make it any further. The world swam in front of his eyes, just a little, and he was pretty certain he was panicking. Or at least, on the edge of panicking. Since he couldn't breathe, did that count as past the edge? Parts of his vision were starting to go blank too, that probably wasn't good, why couldn't he just fucking breathe already? Where was Al, where were the bastard Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye, weren't they just all in the office, where was everybody why was Ed all alone why couldn't he breathe why why why why—

"Calm yourself, Edward Elric."

He flinched on instinct, because that particular voice had been haunting his sleep for nearly five years now. As undefinable as it was distinctive, raspy and toneless and carefully genderless, nothing good had ever come of hearing that voice. Nothing. Never.

Something touched his shoulder and it was only the fact that he still couldn't fucking breathe that kept him from wrenching backwards away from the contact, and— and had the Truth always been that much taller than him? That couldn't be right, the damn thing was the same height as Ed when he was barely past eleven, there was no way it would suddenly be even bigger than fucking Mustang all of a sudden! And—

Air finally forced its way back into his lungs, and he greedily gulped for breath while trying to comprehend the figure before him. Not only was Truth both taller and broader in stature than it had been when they met last, there was a strange red light pulsing inside its core. That was weird, for sure, but the weirdest part by far was the fact that it wasn't smiling. Not even close. The wide, toothy mouth was still present (along with the lack of all other distinguishing features, which was still fucking freaky), but down-turned and almost solemn in appearance. And, probably most damning of all, the thing didn't have Ed's limbs. Aside from the red light, it looked as diaphanous and empty as it had the very first time they met.

Or... wait.

Glaring up at the being suspiciously, Ed allowed himself to scowl. "You... whose Truth are you, then?"

That obnoxious mouth curled into something close to the approximation of a grin. "You're learning, Edward Elric. But it's not time for you to have that knowledge, yet." Then — weirder and weirder — it offered him a hand, still wearing that bizarre not-smile. "Come, you're the last to arrive. The rest are waiting."

"The-- sorry, what? Who are waiting where?" Dazedly taking the hand (which felt just as real and solid as any other, as if things here weren't freaky enough) and letting the Truth (whoever's it was) pull him to his feet, Ed craned his neck from side to side, trying to spot any sign of other people. Actually— "Wait, where the fuck is the door?"

The Truth laughed, waving a hand through the air. Space rippled and parted along the path of its motion, forming some sort of odd curtain in the whiteness. Flashes of color and noise began filtering through the gap. "As you discerned, I am not your Truth. There is no need for you to see the Door of my domain. This way, Edward Elric."

Frankly, Ed really didn't want to go anywhere in this thrice-damned place, and definitely not with that goddamn grinning freak, but it really looked like he was out of options. It wasn't like alchemy worked in here, that much he knew already — and without a door (without his Door), there didn't seem to be any other way out either. If he was going to get out of here in one piece (or anything moderately close) and back to Alphonse as soon as possible, he seemed to have no choice but to follow the Truth through the weird curtain-portal. 

Passing through the gap felt a little like walking through a thin layer of running water, like the one time he and Al discovered a little cave-behind-a-waterfall while traveling. The only way in had involved getting just a tad bit drenched by the spray, but there were some incredible geodes inside and a small shrine to some long-forgotten nature spirit. Before then, Ed hadn't even realized there were still people scattered throughout Amestris who really believed in old stuff like that — not with monotheistic sects as widespread as they were, between stuff like Letoism and Ishvala and whatever that village out West had been doing. Nowadays, it was awfully rare to come across those historic belief systems — the ones with whole pantheons of gods and spirits, embodying everything good and bad and in-between, both in the natural world and beyond.

As an alchemist and scientist, Ed couldn't really completely believe in any of that stuff, but it was definitely more fun to imagine a whole mess of dumbass gods in place of the one apparently omnipotent asshole he'd already met.

Unlike that cave, the room on the other side of the Truth's curtain-portal was actually pretty spacious and well-lit, paneled in rich reds and furnished with an assortment of couches, armchairs, padded bowl-looking things, and giant pillows scattered across the ground. There were a few doors set into one of the walls (nice wooden ones, too, with what looked like a good stain and varnish and even some decorative carvings), while the opposite side of the room had a table running down its length piled with what appeared to be all variety of foods, drinks, medical supplies, and even extra clothes. (Ed was pretty certain he could see the purple-and-red checkered pattern of the pajamas he'd gotten rid of when he joined the military, and the soft blue ones Al hadn't been able to wear anymore after he lost his body). A few smaller tables, all with their own matching and apparently cushioned chairs, lined the side of the room where he’d just entered — it almost gave the impression of a restaurant or extra-nice dining room (definitely better than any of the military mess halls he’d eaten in). In contrast, the furthest wall was almost entirely covered by what sure looked like some sort of moving-picture screen, but way fucking bigger than it should’ve been! Seriously, the damn thing was ridiculously large, what would ever require something that massive?

About halfway through taking it all in (look, when the goddamn Mystery Truth ushered him into a bizarre portal, this had not been what Ed was expecting), a familiar voice shouted from across the room and Ed barely had time to whirl around before large metal arms were wrapping around his torso and lifting him off the ground. “Brother! I was worried you wouldn’t come!” 

“Al! You’re—“ Metal dug into the side of his ribcage and Ed winced (drawbacks of sealing his brother’s soul into armor, of all things — physical affection just got that much harder, literally and figuratively), pushing carefully against his brother’s grip. “—oof, that’s too tight! Come on, let me breathe! Al, what are you even doing here? And—“ Canvassing the room once more as his brother laughed sheepishly and set him back down, Ed’s eyes narrowed at the collection of familiar and unfamiliar faces scattered around the seating area. “— what’s with all these people, huh? Do you know any of them?” 

“How rude, Ed!” Blond hair — brighter than his and Al’s and much more common in Amestris (though not as much in Resembool) — hung over the back of one of the couches as Winry sat up and turned a mock-offended glare on him. “Asking if you know us, honestly! Who’s the one who has to do all your maintenance, huh?”

Finally, something felt normal. “Yeah, well, who’s the one who always makes me do her chores because she’s too busy going on dates with a bunch of scrap metal?”

“Why you—"

Well, fuck, there was the unholy wrench again. No matter how normal it might be, Ed did not want to get hit by that ever again! Sure, he was military, but that sort of violence was just totally unnecessary! “Shit— Al, hide me, hide me!”

“Sorry, Brother, you’re on your own. Winry’s scary!”

She was also in the middle of clambering over the back of the couch, kicking an unfortunate Jean Havoc in the face while doing so (okay, that part was pretty funny). Damn it, Ed was way too freaked out right now to be dealing with angry automail mechanics! He was already apparently trapped in the literal place of his worst nightmares, couldn’t they cut him a bit of slack? Usually play-fighting was all good and fine, but this was seriously activating his fight-or-flight response and going by his accelerated heart rate, that would not end well for either of them.

So in a last-ditch attempt to prevent— well, something unpleasant— he ran for the couch furthest from his irate friend, vaulted over the back, and curled into the smallest (hah) ball his flexibility would allow. “Hey so I don’t know you at all but I’m about three minutes away from another panic attack and I’d really rather not have that happen in front of everyone and if you could just make her stop somehow that would be really nice please sorry if I kicked you?” 

He could see the two men he’d squeezed between — both fairly tall and intimidating, wearing cold-weather military standard uniforms (probably from Northern Command, or maybe Briggs) — looking at each other over his head. Fuck, did he mess up? Should he have gone for where he saw Teacher and Sig sitting, since Teacher at least would protect him from Winry before kicking his ass herself? Or maybe Havoc, since he hadn’t looked too pleased about being hit in the face by a hard-heeled boot? But no, a warm hand rested itself on the top of his head as Winry’s footsteps drew nearer, and when he glanced up he saw the man on his left (brown-skinned and fair-haired, with funky-looking tinted glasses hiding his eyes) watching her approach carefully.

Before the confrontation could go any further, though, the Mystery Truth spoke up.

“Please refrain from damaging your friend, Miss Winry Rockbell. We need him unharmed in order to proceed.” When Ed glanced up, it had turned that not-grin to him. “Edward Elric, come here. I will have need of you.”

Great, there was the hyperventilating again. At least it was better than not breathing at all. “Oh, yeah? What else do you want from me, huh? My other arm? My eyeballs? My goddamn lungs?”

He could hear a few surprised (and suspicious) murmurs from around the room, but the Mystery Truth just shook its head serenely. “Simply a few drops of blood, to complete the price.”

“The... price?”

It’s featureless head turned to Al, who had reclaimed his seat on the floor in front of the couch where Mustang and Teacher were sitting (as far away from each other as possible — maybe they had a disagreement). “Yes, Alphonse Elric. A price has been paid to bring you all here, but it is not complete. To bring into being the requested exchange, your brother is required to become the medium of connection. This means his blood, and his willpower, are both very necessary.”

“What is this exchange anyways, huh?” An unfamiliar voice spoke up, and Ed turned to look across the room at where a fair-skinned man with spiky hair and more dumb-looking glasses (seriously, what the fuck) was reclined lazily on one of the couches. “All you’ve done is grab us and drop us in here, one-by-one. I ain’t complaining, this place seems great! But I got business to take care of, y’see? Can’t just sit tight at your little party, here.” He grinned, and Ed could swear the dude had pointed fucking teeth. Who the hell has teeth like that? And why the fuck was it kinda hot? (Stupid fucking puberty, hitting him with all the garbage hormones and no growth spurt in sight). Still, he did seem to be an outlier, since most of the people in the room were wearing military uniforms and/or were people Ed and Al knew personally (even Granny Pinako was there, why). His expression was cocky, but even he seemed to realize he was a bit of an odd man out. “And where’d my crew go, huh? All these kids clearly know each other, so what’s with that?”

“You are a special case, Mister Greed.” Ed wouldn’t want to claim he understood the Truth (any version of it), but he was pretty sure that was amusement hidden in the eerie rasp of its voice. “Time will make all clear. Please be patient if you wish to live.”

Well.

It felt as though the temperature of the room (which had actually been pleasantly warm before) dropped about twenty degrees. The guys Ed was still seated between both tensed, wary, and he could see Winry and a dark-haired, dark-skinned girl she’d been chatting with shiver nervously. Way to change the mood in five words. Sure, Ed had known (and Teacher, going by the taut fear in her face) that nothing good could come of being in this place, but clearly the others hadn’t quite realized the stakes that came with the territory. (Which was... probably good, actually. Them not knowing about the Truth meant that none of them had ever made the mistake he had. But if that wasn’t why they were here... seriously, what the fuck was going on?)

“I will explain, Edward Elric.” Shit, he said that out loud? The Mystery Truth was grinning at him, and the long-haired boy sitting in one of the weird padded bowls looked to be giggling behind a hand. Fuck, that was embarrassing. “This is quite beyond my normal purview, but circumstances have changed and a price has been paid. It is quite rare that I am given a payment so freely, and rarer still to receive payment before that which is being exchanged."

It strode purposefully to the center of the room, standing in front of the (obscenely giant) screen and facing the gathered audience with that not-smile once more solidly in place. The strange red light inside its chest pulsed, almost like a heartbeat, and it appeared to cross its arms behind its back. Frankly, the silhouette looked... almost familiar, somehow, but Ed just couldn't place it.

"I have gathered you all here, as was requested by my Being, to observe and learn from a future that could have been."

The entire space plunged into dead silence. It was as though the room had been frozen in time, a moment where no-one dared to move or speak or even draw breath. And really, Ed couldn't blame them — see the future? That was so far beyond the conceivable reaches of alchemy, it wasn't even funny. The type of price one would have to pay for something so enormous... no one person could even hope to afford it. He was half tempted to call the Truth a lying bastard, but... well, the hilarity of calling 'Truth' a liar aside, the being seemed dead serious. No mocking smile, no double-meanings and concealed lessons.

It was for real.

"Preposterous." 

The voice was feminine, a lower register kinda similar to Teacher's but with a bit more edge, and its owner (a somewhat stout blond woman who looked kind of familiar, for some reason) narrowed her eyes at the Mystery Truth. "Seeing the future is impossible. Whatever your business is with us, state it outright. Don't mock us with such blatant lies."

Ed wanted to scream at her, to ask what the hell she thought she was doing, did she want to lose half her limbs and all of her fucking dignity— but the Truth just shrugged. Like it was no big deal. "Your disbelief is understandable, Major General Olivier Armstrong." Well, that explained the familiarity. Looking between her and the Major, there was definitely a resemblance. "However, we have much to do, so you must rein in such suspicions for the time being. I have been paid the price needed to view the future, but a further exchange is required in order to ensure that this future is the one which you will need to know." And that... made sense, kind of. The future was a pretty nebulous concept, after all, so needing an extra measure to make sure that whatever they saw would be actually relevant seemed pretty reasonable, all things considered. 

Fuck, Ed didn't want it to make sense, but he'd never been one to deny logic when it was smacking him in the face. "And that's why you need my blood, right? That way, you can anchor the future to events happening in my general lifetime and vicinity, or something like that." He could feel the incredulous gazes trained on him from all around the room as he stood, stretching his shoulders and wincing as usual at the clicking of his automail joints. "Can't say I get why you need me, and not someone more important, but its not like I'm gonna argue."

Across the room, Mustang snorted incredulously. "I'm impressed, Fullmetal. You, not arguing? A miracle, truly."

"Fuck you too, Bastard Colonel." It was remarkably satisfying to spit the response as he crossed the space to stand in front of the Mystery Truth. "If I argue with this guy, he'll probably steal my other hand or something." That seemed to shut the man up, dark understanding dawning in his gaze as he sat back against the cushions, and Ed forced himself not to sigh as he turned to face the Truth. "You just need some of my blood, right? Or is there some other subtext here, too?"

It grinned, the red light fluttering as though in amusement. "Astute, Edward Elric. When you act as the physical anchor for this viewing, your body will experience here all that it experiences in the future that could have been. You must be prepared for anything, as all but truly fatal effects will be mirrored upon you."

"So it'll hurt like hell, but I'm not gonna die, is that what you're saying?" The Truth nodded and Ed grimaced, rolling up his sleeve and baring the skin of his left arm to the creature. "Fine, I'm in. It's nothing I don't deserve anyways. No-one else is going to get hurt, right?"

"Only you."

Sounded about right. "And you probably won't tell me why it's gotta be me, and not someone else, yeah?"

It hummed thoughtfully — and what the hell, since when was the Truth (or any version of the Truth) thoughtful or pensive, anyways? "I cannot. That is information you do not have the necessary background for yet. Do understand that this is not a whim, but a necessity — what I am doing would not be possible with any anchor but you, Edward Elric."

That was... weird, but honestly not something he had the energy to be concerned about right now. "Sure, whatever. Just take the blood and get on with it, will you?"

The Truth didn't deign to grace him with a verbal response before it reached down and touched a coldhotstatic fingertip to the inside of his bared wrist. Ed shivered at the chill that ran down his spine as a pinprick hole opened in his skin (which stung a bit, but actually didn't hurt all that much) and a thin stream of blood rose into the air as the Truth's finger pulled away, like some sort of bizarre electromagnetic attraction. Weirder still, it stopped rising at about his eye-level and began forming itself into a small but steadily-growing ball, as though the space it was occupying didn't conform to the laws of gravity. Once it was about the size of a golf ball, the hole sealed with a little flash of oddly red light, and the Truth took the ball in hand.

Ed rubbed his wrist, resisting the urge to shiver again (he felt a little dizzy, but no worse than when he'd just missed a meal or two while working), and stared at the— the ball of his blood, just sort of sitting there nonchalantly like it wasn't defying all laws of physics. "How much did you take? I was expecting like a thimble or something."

"100 millilitres." With a small gesture, the orb rose into the air again, floating upwards and towards the top of the screen behind them, where a small funnel made itself suddenly visible. "I do not know how much will be needed in order to view all necessary events, so you may need to be prepared for another donation, Edward Elric. In the meantime, however, this should be enough to get us started." Glancing around the room, the Truth hummed again and tapped a finger against its— uh, well, where its lips would be if it wasn't basically a bizarre eldritch semi-deity. "But perhaps introductions are in order first. You will all be here for a while, after all, and names are quite important." The red light at its center pulsed a few times and it nodded decisively before clapping sharply.

Heads around the room turned towards them, and Ed resisted the urge to flinch under the collected attention as the Mystery Truth grinned down at its audience. "Just a few things I'm sure you will all be glad to know before we begin. As you have seen, this room is furnished with seating, supplies, work-spaces, and plenty of provisions that will be resupplied as needed. The doors you see along this wall," It gestured conservatively with one hand, "lead to the latrines, bathing facilities, and dormitory areas. You will find that necessary labels have been provided, and further additions can be supplied pending a well-reasoned request."

A few people immediately stood and headed for the doors, checking the simple plaques that almost definitely hadn't been there earlier before separating by gender and disappearing inside. 

The Truth sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "Really, how impolite. Human anatomy is so awfully inconvenient. Now, what else— ah, right." It clapped its hands again. "I'm afraid you won't be able to use any alchemic or alkhestric techniques here. Just a natural constriction of this location. On the other hand, time flows differently here than it does in your world, so you needn't worry about your responsibilities there. Now, please introduce yourselves before we begin."

Well, that certainly proved that this was still the same space as the White Place, just... tweaked, a bit. Not being able to use alchemy (or the other thing it had mentioned, whatever that might be) was a bit discouraging, but Ed wasn't surprised — he'd been here twice before, and he hadn't been able to do anything then either. Wherever this plane of existence was, it was Truth's domain, not theirs — frustrating as it was, they were essentially powerless here. The time bit was more surprising — but then again, the first few times Ed had met Truth, he'd been a good bit too distracted to pay attention to something as transient as the passage of time. So really, unfortunately, it all made quite a lot of sense. Again.

The sensation of coldhotstatic tingled against his skin as the Truth gave him an almost gentle shove towards the seating areas. "Go and rejoin your friends, Edward Elric. Your payment has been received for now."

Right. Like that wasn't fucking foreboding.

But now there was an entirely different problem to address — where should he sit? There was the couch where Winry and Granny Pinako were sitting with some of the Eastern Command guys and that dark-haired girl from earlier, but honestly Ed was still feeling a little too on-edge to be quite comfortable next to Winry and her demonic wrench. Then there was the couch by Al, where the Colonel was sitting, but... Teacher was there too, and judging by the dark energy coming from her direction she was just waiting for an opportunity to beat some sense into him for the mistake she had to know he'd made by now. And yeah, Ed knew he deserved it, but... fuck, everything about this place was putting him at the cliff's-edge of a trauma flashback, and he really couldn't deal with extra anger right now.

There were the guys from the North that he'd hidden with earlier, but Major General Armstrong was sitting with them (he now noticed, at least), and she was kind of scary too. A few other couches and collections of chairs held other military personnel he was sort of familiar with, and a few he didn't recognize but who were definitely wearing the uniforms. Then there was the shark-teeth guy sitting on his own, and the foreign-looking group clustered around one of the weird bowl-chairs.

Ugh. It really seemed like he didn't have any good options.

"Oi, Al, budge your legs a little." 

"Eh?" His brother looked up in surprise as Ed crossed the room, stopping to pick up a few of the almost unnaturally plush pillows scattered across the floor. "Brother? What is it?"

Dropping two pillows onto the floor between Al's legs, Ed settled the third into position against his brother's armored torso and sat down with his back against it. "I'm sitting here, that okay?"

"Wha— Yeah, sure, but why? Wouldn't one of the couches be more comfortable?"

Yeah, they would. But they were all full of people that Ed either didn't know well, or people he wasn't sure wouldn't accidentally trigger a panic attack or something by physically threatening him. Normally, he'd be fine — hell, he could usually give back as good as he got when it came to friendly violence — but in this place? No way in hell. "Eh, I'm safer with you. Just don't let Teacher kick me or something."

Al tilted his head questioningly, the soft lights of his eyes blinking a few times. "Huh? But I don’t want to get kicked either! Why can’t you just—”

“Please, Al.”

His brother fell silent, and Ed was almost afraid to look up because — because fuck, he wasn’t supposed to be this weak, begging his little brother to protect him from his own mistakes! He should be able to handle this shit on his own, and yet— and yet here he was, trapped in his literal nightmare origin and trying to prepare himself for a future where he was almost guaranteed to be experiencing numerous (and possibly life-threatening) injuries. Fuck, Al probably thought Ed was being a horrible brother right now. (He was, wasn’t he, he’s always been a shitty excuse for family, he’s barely any better than that bastard—)

A heavy hand touched his back gently and Ed flinched on instinct, glancing over his shoulder to see the distinctive forearm bracers of Al’s armor and then up to meet his brother’s glowing eye-lights. “Are you sure you’re okay, brother?” 

“...” He couldn’t lie to Al. “I really hate this place. I thought I’d only come back here to get your body back.”

Al perked up. "Oh! I just remembered! Brother, on the way here—"

"So, that creature mentioned introductions." Oh, motherfucker. Most of the room's attention turned to Mustang, who was reclining back against the arm of the couch with one of his patented Serious Colonel expressions firmly in place. "I suppose it would be easiest to go around the room and state name, rank and posting for those of us in the Amestrian Military, and any concise pieces of information that you believe are relevant to our current situation." ... Dammit, that was actually pretty smart. Why couldn't someone be stupid and let him pick a fight for once? "To start off — my name is Colonel Roy Mustang of Eastern Command. I am also a State Alchemist."

Hawkeye, seated beside him, folded her hands neatly in her lap and leaned forward. "First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, also of Eastern Command."

Silence fell for a few moments before she reached down to rap her knuckles against Al's helmet, the sound ringing in the quiet as he started. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't realize— um, my name's Alphonse Elric! I'm Ed's younger brother."

"Wait, younger?"

Aw, hell. Ed groaned and turned to glare at the blond guy seated by Major Armstrong — a Sergeant, by the look of his uniform — in tired exasperation. "Yes, younger. So before anyone gets any ideas— yes, hello, I'm the State Alchemist Major Edward Elric, known as the Fullmetal Alchemist, and Al's older brother. Older, not younger! I don't want to hear any funny mix-ups, got it?"

"Honestly, Brother."

Thankfully, Sig cleared his throat loudly, cutting off any chance of a debate opening up. "Sig Curtis, of the Curtis Butcher Shop in Dublith." Straight and to-the-point. 

"Izumi Curtis, also of the Curtis Butcher Shop in Dublith." The heat of Teacher's gaze felt like it was burning a hole in the side of Ed's skull. "And erstwhile teacher to these two idiots, which I suppose is why we've been dragged into this."

On the next couch over, Granny Pinako crossed her arms and chewed at the end of her pipe for a few moments before speaking up. "Pinako Rockbell."

"Winry Rockbell, and I'm an automail mechanic!"

The dark-skinned girl seated on the floor in front of her grinned, leaning back against the couch and stretching like a cat. "M'name's Paninya, I live in Rush Valley, an' I've got two prosthetic legs. Gonna be real here, I have no idea what any of this is about, but I'm excited as fuck to find out."

"Master Sergeant Kain Fuery, of Eastern Command." He looked a little bewildered, having been shoved into the seat next to Winry by a rather disgruntled Havoc (who still had a faint pinkish shoe-print on the side of his forehead), but smiled brightly at the room at large before pulling out a kerchief and cleaning his glasses a bit anxiously.

"Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, Eastern Command."

"Warrant Officer Vato Falman, also Eastern Command."

"Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, also of Eastern Command."

On the next couch over (since apparently there were just too many East City troops to fit on a single sofa, even with Mustang and Hawkeye counted out and Breda claiming an armchair to himself), Rebecca grinned and saluted the room casually with two fingers. "Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina, and I'm also stationed at Eastern Command! It does seem like there's quite a few of us here, huh? I wonder what's up with that."

Beside her, another woman with short-cropped dark hair shrugged. "Well, since they needed Fullmetal in particular, and he's been working out of EC, maybe there's some connection. I'm Second Lieutenant Maria Ross, by the way, from Central Command." She offered the gathered group a small grin. "Pleased to meet you all."

"And I'm Sergeant Denny Brosch, also from Central!" The blond guy next to her (the same one who'd been surprised that Al was his younger brother, Ed noticed with a twitch) piped up cheerfully, waving at the group.

Major Armstrong, sitting on the other end of the couch, looked for a moment as though he was preparing to flex his shirt off for the introduction, and Ed silently counted his blessings when the man seemed to think better of it for once. "I am the Strong-Arm Alchemist, Major Alex Louis Armstrong! It is an honor to be among you all!"

"Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, I work at the Central Command Investigations offices." The man in question, seated comfortably on a large beanbag in front of the other Central personnel, smiled brightly before whipping out a booklet of— oh no, photographs. "And though they're not here with us, I want everyone to also meet my lovely wife Gracia, and our wonderful daughter Elicia! Isn't she just precious? She's almost three years old!"

The soldiers similarly clustered in the middle of the area, clearly choosing the beanbags as more comfortable than being crammed onto couches with possibly-strangers, sent him a few odd glances before looking between themselves. Finally, the man seated closest to Hughes (dark-skinned and a bit heavy-set) spoke up.

"We're all Second Lieutenants, but none of you folks oughta worry 'bout that. I'm Jerso."

"Zampano."

"Heinkel."

"And I'm Darius." The last of the group, a muscular man with impressive sideburns, turned to glance down at the understandably intimidated-looking woman who'd ended up beside him. "And, you said your name was—"

Her face flushed, and she curled around the mug of probably-tea (or maybe-coffee) she'd been holding like it might help protect her. "U-um, I'm Sheska. I-I work at the National Central Library— o-or, I used to, b-but I was fired last week s-so... um, I'm unemployed, I guess."

"Goodness!" Breaking the flow of introductions, Major Armstrong leaned forward with a thoughtful expression. "That's quite unfortunate, Miss Sheska! I am sure we will be able to find you further employment once we return from this fascinating event, so do not fret!"

The poor woman's flush deepened to a somewhat raspberry-like color, and she ducked her head to take a desperate gulp of her beverage in lieu of answering. Ed almost felt a little sorry for her, especially watching her cough after accidentally inhaling a little too much, too quickly — he couldn't imagine the stress of being unemployed, without any sort of financial assurance or structure (the stress of being helped by Major Armstrong, on the other hand, was very familiar indeed). As much as he grated against all the orders and regulations that came with being a part of the military, there was something he definitely appreciated about the semblance of rhyme and reason it instilled in his life. (And having paychecks was pretty nice, too).

Settled comfortably in another beanbag beside Sheska, another young woman — this one with sort of pink-brown bangs (probably some type of herbal dye) and wide, dark eyes — paused in confusion before realizing it was her turn to speak. "Oh! Sorry, I'm Rose. My work's not all that glamorous — I mostly volunteer at the church of Leto in Liore, really. It's nice to meet you all!"

Liore, huh? Wasn't that the mission Ed just received from the Colonel the other day? Something about a church, and rumors surrounding the Father something-or-other... performing impossible 'miracles'. Sounded like alchemy at the least, and maybe even a philosopher's stone. If this— whatever-this-was— didn't cover it, Ed was definitely going to have to ask her a few questions.

In an armchair about a foot or so behind Rose, a tall man with a rather long nose and glasses sighed and crossed his arms. "Doctor Knox, military surgeon." After a short pause, wherein everyone seemed to be wondering who would speak up next, he huffed irritably and turned to nudge the rather nervous-looking older man seated in another chair beside him.

"O-oh. I-I — Doctor Tim Marcoh, state— well, former State Alchemist."

Armstrong straightened, expression shifting from surprise to delight as he recognized the man. "Doctor! It's wonderful to see you again! Where have you been?"

"I-I'd rather not disclose that."

"Understandable!" Leaning back, the Major offered his colleague the Armstrong equivalent of a reassuring smile. "It is good to know you are well, old friend."

"Oh, I— yes, agreed."

A few feet to the side, on one of the bowl-chairs opposite where Ed was seated, the long-haired boy clapped his hands together and smiled. Honestly, he was kind of cute too, in a weird way — something both endearing and innately annoying about the tilt of his eyes and the curve of his mouth — and Ed was willing to bet he was only maybe a year or two older than he and Al. "Well, I am Ling Yao, twelfth prince of Xing and heir of the Yao clan. I must say, it is quite surprising to meet you all like this, as I have been planning a journey to Amestris for the past month but had not yet departed when I was transported here. Quite the wonderful coincidence!"

... Yeah, definitely an awful combination of endearing and annoying. A little like Winry, if Ed thought about it (which was... not helpful, frankly, because however he felt towards her was already confusing enough without throwing additional same-sex equivalents into the mix). He could already tell that Ling was either going to be someone he got along fantastically with, or absolutely could not stand.

The two bodyguard-looking characters behind the boy exchanged glances, as though silently communicating with one another, before the shorter of the two sighed and removed their mask to reveal a weathered face and bushy grey mustache. "I am Fu, guardian of the Yao clan."

"And I, Lan Fan, also a guardian of the Yao clan." The other guard bared their face as well, revealing herself to be a young woman maybe a year or two older than Ling, with striking dark eyes and a rather stoic expression.

Sharing the bowl with Ling and evidently trying to maintain as much distance as possible, a younger girl wearing similarly foreign-looking clothing scowled and crossed her arms in frustration. A small, black-and-white... cat? Bear? Whatever it was, it was sitting on her shoulder and making a similarly irate expression. Ling offered her a friendly nudge, which resulted in a supremely unhappy glance and a resigned sigh. "I'm Mei of the Chang clan, seventeenth princess of Xing. I was also in the process of preparing to travel to Amestris when I was brought here, like my copycat Yao brother."

Armor shifted, and Ed leaned out of the way as Al raised a curious hand (as though they were still back in school). "Um, I'm sorry if this sounds silly, but... if you two are brother and sister, how come you're from different clans?"

"Well, you see," Ling piped up cheerfully, after what looked like a brief battle of wills with his younger sister, "unlike Amestris, Xing is a monarchy ruled by a singular Emperor. Traditionally, the Emperor takes a wife in each of the fifty great clans of Xing, and each wife is supposed to bear him an heir. Eventually, the Emperor has to chose which of those children will become his successor — and since that choice can mean life or death for the rest of the clan, inter-clan competition is quite fierce!"

Sighing, Mei waved a hand and added, "Clans like the Yao are well-off, while clans like mine can become really poor. Since there's something the Emperor, our father, wants, Yao brother and I both decided to travel to Amestris in the hopes of finding it and increasing our chances of being chosen."

"... Huh." That sounded... pretty fucking shitty, if Ed was going to be honest. He couldn't imagine having to compete with Al for something that big — though to be fair, they were the only family they had left (because the bastard didn't count, not after he left them), so it wasn't like they had clans or anything relying on them. The closest analogy would probably be — Winry and Granny Pinako, maybe, or the rest of Resembool if he was being generous. But now wasn't the time to hash it out, so he turned to look at the man seated on the floor in the shadow of Ling and Mei's bowl. "And, uh, how about you?"

"I have no name."

O-kay. "Right, sure. What should we call you, then?" With this many people around, trying to call anyone by just 'hey you' would get confusing really fucking quickly.

The man, muscular and dark-skinned with shaded glasses and a strong jaw, glared in Ed's direction for a few moments before turning away. "Your military," He spat the word out like it burned, "I believe, has already decided that."

"Scar."

Whoop, voice coming from another direction, alright. Ed twisted around to peer up at Mustang over his brother's shoulder, caught off-guard by the overt wariness in his superior officer's gaze. "Wait, Colonel, you know this guy?"

Something dark and heavy settled into place on Mustang's face. "Over the past months, we've had repeated incidents — State Alchemists that were involved in the Ishvalan Civil War being murdered all over the country — and the suspected perpetrator is a man with a distinctive cross-shaped scar on his forehead. Major Sifis Ruby and Lieutenant Colonel Andrea Valentine were both killed just a few weeks ago in South City, and Major Minerva Wespe was found dead in her home in Resit six days before that."

"Wait, wasn't Major Wespe the one who came to visit Eastern Command last year and made Brother angry because she kept patting his head?"

Arms crossed, Hawkeye nodded solemnly. "She retired not too long after the war ended because of persistent health issues, but hearing about Edward piqued her curiosity. Even though she could never hold down a relationship, she has— had quite the soft spot for children."

Thinking back, Ed could remember Wespe — a tall older woman with a cane and still-brown hair a few shades lighter than his mother's, who'd had laugh lines stretching at the corners of her eyes even when he yelled at her for calling him little. She'd invited him and Al to visit her if they were ever in the area, but they'd always been so busy trying to follow leads and piece together clues (and in Ed's case, do his job) that it just never panned out. He'd met Major Ruby once too, as a chance encounter in South City, where the Creta-born man had cheerfully bought him lunch and showed him a few small alchemy tricks (that Ed hadn't had the heart to admit to already knowing). They'd both been far nicer to him than his attitude should have earned, and he wasn't ever sure if it was because of his age or his rank or just because they were that sort of people.

(Lieutenant Colonel Andrea Valentine was a stranger to him, but he'd heard stories about the Earthbreaker Alchemist — some about the war, sure, but mostly about how she'd retreated South after it was over to use her alchemy for the people. Last he'd known, she was traveling through various agricultural and rural areas, using her earth-based alchemic expertise to revitalize farmlands and strengthen ecosystems. He'd wondered as a kid if she'd ever decide to visit Resembool).

He turned to look at the scarred man — 'Scar', Mustang had said — sourly. So this guy was going around, killing State Alchemists? Judging by his looks, there was a chance he could be Ishvalan, or related — he had the cool-toned brown complexion that, as far as Ed could remember, he'd only seem among Ishvalan refugees, and the curiously light hair to match. With his eyes obscured, there wasn't any way to be sure, but... even though what he was doing couldn't ever be excused, it seemed like there might a reason to his madness, so to speak. The war was over many years before Ed joined the military, but he'd seen what it did to those who survived — and they were on the 'winning' side, supposedly, so he could only imagine how badly it would have hurt the people who lost.

Scar was still glaring at them, Mustang was glaring back, and Ed groaned and sighed. "Alright, we'll call you Scar for now, then. That static bastard probably brought you here for a reason, so as long as you don't try to kill anyone while we're here, I'm gonna trust that this is for the good of whatever."

"Fullmetal—" 

Oof, that was a bit loud. "Look, you don't know how this guy operates, Colonel Bastard. I do, okay? Just fucking believe me when I say that if Scar's here, he needs to be. The rest can— fuck, I don't know, we can deal with it later, okay? Okay, great, next person please."

'Next person' turned out to be one of the men Ed had hidden between after he first arrived, who — now that he got a better look at the guy — actually looked a bit like Scar. Brown skin, though his was a bit richer in tone, and similarly white hair and hidden eyes. Maybe he also had some Ishvalan blood? Considering the blue of his uniform, it made sense that he would keep it under wraps.

"Major Miles, second-in-command of the Briggs fortress."

... Well, he'd been right about them being from the north. Ed suppressed the urge to shiver — everything he'd heard about Briggs always sounded intimidating, and he'd heard a fair bit from the Eastern soldiers who always went up for the annual joint training. (He was still offended that they never invited him, but considering how poorly his automail handled extreme temperatures, the offense was always quickly swallowed up by reluctant relief). Major Miles and the soldiers seated along the couch all looked pretty tough and, in any other circumstance, Ed definitely would've felt the intimidation factor pretty damn hard (not in the least because they were all unnecessarily tall).

But it had definitely been the Major who had seemed ready to intervene when he was hiding from Winry, which kind of threw him a bit. Because yeah, he'd heard a lot about Briggs, and none of it really added up to actually being willing to help a kid who probably just looked like he was overreacting to basic friendly roughhousing. (Which Ed... hadn’t been, had he? Was he just overreacting? He’d thought being in this place — sheesh, really needed a name for it, maybe the Doorstep of Truth or something — was messing with his head, but maybe he really was just overreacting to something silly, and now he’d made a fool of himself...)

The other man, seated beside Major Miles, grinned toothily. "And I'm Captain Buccaneer, also of the Briggs Fortress."

"Second Lieutenant Henschel, also Briggs."

"Karley, chief Communications Officer at Briggs."

At the end of the couch, the two younger-looking individuals perked up. Unlike the rest of the officers, they were wearing plainclothes under oil-stained lab coats, but there was something about their posture and aura that made it clear they were just as military as their seatmates. The man spoke up first, grinning around the cigarette clamped between his teeth.

"I'm Neil, one of the chief engineers up at the Fort. And this is—"

"—Patty, Fort doctor and automail engineer." The woman finished with a sigh, leveling a tired gaze at her coworker. "The two of us do most of the automail work at Briggs, though I am a trained medical doctor as well."

Seated on the back of the couch with her feet braced against the arm beside Patty’s (Dr. Patty’s?) below, Major Armstrong’s relative (sister? she didn’t look old or young enough to be a parent or child) crossed her arms and leveled a shrewd, narrow gaze at the gathered group. Even across the room, Ed could see the cool glint of pale blue from her eyes — it seemed everyone in the Major’s family shared that genetic trait. “Major General Olivier Armstrong, commanding officer of the fortress of Briggs.”

Yikes, that made her the highest-ranked officer present. Which meant if something requiring actual military action happened, she would be the one to take charge and they’d be legally obligated to fall in. Considering her icy-cold demeanor, that sounded... well, like a pretty frightening prospect. 

Completely alone on the last couch to Ed's right, the shark-toothed guy grinned from ear to ear and raised one hand in a lazy wave. “The name’s Greed, the game’s greed, nice to meetcha.”

... Damn it, that combination of sharp teeth and leather pants was fucking unfair. Ed really did not have time to panic about his sexuality right now, he was already busy panicking about everything else! 

Like the fact that everyone had been introduced and now that Truth was standing at the front of the room again, grin fixed in place and the previously-black screen glowing with a warm, white light. It seemed to draw everyone’s attention, side conversations falling silent and eyes all focusing on a shared point with the sort of eerie synchronicity one might find in the seconds before a bomb detonates (or the seconds after seeing a child shot dead in the street, for a more disturbingly relevant analogy). There was a slight humming in the air too, almost akin to the whirring of machinery but both smoother and softer than usual. It should have felt unsettling, and yet... somehow, the effect was almost calming instead. Like the room saying 'it's okay, make yourselves at home' — and that was probably the most disturbing part.

The ambient light of the room dimmed, fading to near-twilight levels and transforming the screen's faint glow to a brightness just this side of blinding. Smiling wide, the Truth clapped its hands once (the sound ringing in the silence). "I realize I forgot to tell you about our process here! We will be watching the future events of this country, using Edward Elric as a focus point in order to ensure relevance of time and place. To make the experience as enjoyable as possible, it has been arranged for these viewings to take the form of multiple episodic installments, between which there can be time to discuss, unwind, and recover from each episode's events. There will be opening and ending sequences arranged to music as well, with imagery that is less a depiction of your future and more a representation of relevant themes."

"What? Why?"

It turned an eyeless, still-grinning expression to Winry's friend (Pan-something? Fuck, there was no way Ed was going to be able to remember these names off the bat), shrugging in a way that really shouldn't have looked so charmingly nonchalant. "It seemed fun. You never know what insights you might gain from such things, after all!"

... Fucker needed to stop making decent, halfway-logical points, damn it. As skeptical as Ed was — and he was plenty damn skeptical, because apparently they were going to be watching their future in the form of some sort of bad television serial — the Truth wasn't exactly wrong about being able to gain insight from unusual interpretations of a given narrative. Hell, sometimes crimes needed variant perspectives in order to be solved or brought to light — wasn't that half the point of going undercover, after all? Have the facts presented in a new format, one that defies common tropes and narrative norms, and it'll become easier to pick out key elements or inconsistencies that would otherwise be lost in a more familiar style. Damn it, he wanted to be able to argue about this, not concede that maybe it actually made sense!

No-one else spoke up, so the Truth clapped its hands again and the light abruptly diminished, fading back to its previous dim glow as the entity made its way along the wall to the back of the room. "Please feel free to move around as the scenes progress, and do not worry about crumbs on the furniture — they can be cleaned easily. As this place does not confine itself to the diurnal cycle of your world, I will create an appropriate facsimile to ensure that your circadian rhythms remain undisturbed, and you are encouraged to break for meals and sleep when it feels appropriate. All said, let us begin."

And begin it did.