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Victory, Edward Elric discovered, tasted remarkably like cheap whiskey.
“Another.”
Roy Mustang looked at him across the table.
Edward lifted his glass.
Roy looked at the empty bottle.
Edward looked at the empty bottle.
They both looked toward the other three empty bottles scattered across Roy’s desk.
There was a long silence.
Roy finally said, with the grave solemnity of a military commander confronting an international crisis, “We appear to have a logistical problem.”
Edward frowned.
The room moved slightly.
He waited for it to stop.
It did not.
“That table’s crooked.”
“The table has been there for six years.”
“Then it’s been crooked for six years.”
Roy considered this.
“Remarkable.”
Edward pointed at him.
“Don’t mock me.”
“I would never.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“I am appreciating your keen observational skills.”
“Bastard.”
Roy smiled into his empty glass.
The victory celebration had started innocently enough.
Central’s forces had spent the better part of three weeks dealing with a rogue group of alchemists who had occupied an abandoned weapons facility outside the city. Nobody had died, nobody had been permanently transformed into anything unpleasant, and Edward had only destroyed two walls.
Possibly three.
Four if anyone counted the watchtower.
Edward didn’t.
The important thing was that they had won.
More importantly, Edward was now old enough that Roy could no longer smugly confiscate alcohol from him while drinking it himself.
Which was why, when the official celebration ended, Edward had followed Roy back to his office with several bottles liberated from the officers’ mess.
Four hours later, both of them had arrived at the same conclusion.
The rest of the garrison deserved to celebrate too.
“The men worked hard,” Roy said.
Edward nodded seriously.
“Very hard.”
“They were extremely brave.”
“Extremely.”
“We should reward them.”
“Yes.”
Roy lifted the empty bottle.
“With alcohol.”
Edward slammed both palms on the desk.
“With alcohol!”
Roy winced.
“Volume, Fullmetal.”
“Don’t call me Fullmetal when we’re drinking.”
“What should I call you?”
Edward thought about it.
“Edward.”
Roy stared at him.
Edward stared back.
“An inspired suggestion.”
“Shut up.”
Roy attempted to pour another drink.
Nothing happened.
He shook the bottle.
Still nothing.
Edward leaned forward.
“Maybe there’s some stuck at the bottom.”
Roy turned the bottle upside down.
One sad drop landed on the desk.
They stared at it.
“This,” Edward whispered, “is a tragedy.”
Roy nodded.
“A national emergency.”
Edward abruptly straightened.
“I can fix it.”
Those were four words Roy Mustang should have feared.
Unfortunately, Roy Mustang had consumed enough whiskey to temporarily lose his survival instinct.
“How?”
Edward stood.
His chair fell over.
He ignored it.
“I am an alchemist.”
“Yes.”
“I understand chemistry.”
“Debatable.”
“Shut up.”
Edward stumbled toward the open floor beside the desk.
Roy watched him.
“We need alcohol,” Edward continued. “Alcohol can be distilled.”
“That is true.”
“I can make a still.”
Roy slowly lowered his glass.
“Edward.”
Edward turned.
Roy’s eyes had acquired the particular shine that usually preceded either an excellent military strategy or a spectacular disaster.
“I can provide heat.”
Edward’s face lit up.
Neither of them recognized this as the moment everything went wrong.
⸻
Ten minutes later, most of Roy’s furniture had been pushed against the walls.
Edward was kneeling on the floor with a piece of chalk.
Roy stood beside him, sleeves rolled up and gloves on.
“Copper tubing,” Edward muttered.
“Efficient heat exchange.”
“Cooling chamber.”
“Necessary.”
“Collection vessel.”
“Also necessary.”
Edward drew another line.
Roy narrowed his eyes.
“Is that supposed to connect there?”
Edward squinted at the circle.
“Yes.”
“It appears to connect to the array for material separation.”
“No, that’s the pressure regulation segment.”
“Are you certain?”
Edward looked personally offended.
“I’ve been doing alchemy since before you knew how to style your stupid hair.”
“My hair requires no alchemy.”
“It requires a miracle.”
Roy smiled.
Edward pointed the chalk at him.
“Keep talking and you’re drinking water.”
Roy immediately became serious.
“Your craftsmanship is unparalleled.”
“Thought so.”
Edward returned to the circle.
The problem was that Edward’s handwriting normally looked like an angry spider had fallen into ink.
Drunk Edward’s handwriting looked like the same spider had suffered a head injury.
Several symbols were crooked.
One line had been drawn twice.
Another stopped halfway because Edward had become distracted by the discovery that Roy’s carpet had tiny blue patterns he had never noticed before.
Eventually, however, Edward leaned back.
“Done.”
Roy inspected the circle.
It looked complicated.
Complicated meant impressive.
Therefore it was probably correct.
“Magnificent.”
Edward grinned.
“Damn right.”
He clapped his hands.
Roy had exactly enough time to think that perhaps one of those symbols looked suspiciously familiar—
Edward slammed his palms down.
Blue light erupted across the floor.
The transmutation circle activated.
Metal surged upward.
Copper pipes twisted through the air. A boiler formed. Glass condensed from nearby materials. Valves, tubes and containers assembled themselves in seconds.
Roy stared.
Edward stared.
“See?” Edward said smugly.
Then the circle kept glowing.
Edward’s smile vanished.
Roy tilted his head.
“Is it supposed to do that?”
“No.”
The floor began vibrating.
Edward looked down.
“Oh.”
Roy took one step backward.
“‘Oh’?”
“Small problem.”
“How small?”
The light turned purple.
Roy stared.
“That does not appear small.”
Edward scrambled to his feet.
“I may have crossed two lines.”
“Two?”
“Possibly three.”
The air above the still twisted.
A black shape appeared.
Roy’s drunkenness vanished approximately twenty percent.
“Edward.”
“I see it.”
“Edward.”
“I SEE IT!”
The shape widened.
Black hands reached from inside.
Edward’s eyes widened.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Roy, unfortunately, had seen the Gate before only through Edward’s descriptions.
He pointed.
“Is that—”
“Yes!”
“The Gate?”
“YES!”
“Why is there a Gate in my office?”
“BECAUSE YOU DISTRACTED ME!”
“I criticized one line!”
“You insulted my pressure regulation!”
“That hardly seems equivalent to dimensional catastrophe!”
The Gate opened.
The resulting force picked both of them off their feet.
Roy grabbed the desk.
Edward grabbed Roy.
The desk slid forward.
“FULLMETAL!”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT WHEN WE’RE DRINKING!”
“THIS IS NOT THE RELEVANT ISSUE!”
The desk hit the transmuted still.
Something exploded.
Roy’s grip slipped.
Both men disappeared into the Gate.
The office fell silent.
One copper pipe rolled across the floor.
Then the still produced a single drop of alcohol.
⸻
Edward landed face-first on pavement.
“Ow.”
Something landed on top of him.
“Ow!”
Roy groaned.
“Comfortable?”
“GET OFF.”
Roy rolled aside.
Edward sat up.
The world spun.
He grabbed the pavement.
“Ground’s moving.”
“The ground is stationary.”
“You’re stationary.”
“I believe that was intended as an insult.”
“It was.”
Roy sat beside him.
For several moments neither spoke.
Then Roy looked around.
Bright buildings surrounded them.
Cars moved along wide streets.
Signs advertised stores Edward had never heard of.
And walking down the sidewalk were—
Roy blinked.
Edward blinked.
A duck wearing a business suit walked past carrying a briefcase.
Another duck rode a bicycle.
A third duck pushed a stroller.
Edward slowly turned toward Roy.
Roy slowly turned toward Edward.
“Mustang.”
“Yes?”
“Are you seeing ducks?”
“Yes.”
“Walking upright?”
“Yes.”
“Wearing clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Talking?”
A nearby duck complained loudly about taxes.
Roy nodded.
“Yes.”
Edward closed his eyes.
“This is bad.”
“Extremely.”
Edward stood.
He swayed.
Roy caught his arm.
Edward pointed accusingly at the passing civilians.
“Chimeras.”
Roy considered this.
Given the circumstances, it seemed reasonable.
“Mass-produced chimeras.”
“Whole city.”
“Someone has been very busy.”
Edward’s expression hardened.
“We have to find whoever did this.”
Roy nodded.
“Agreed.”
A taxi stopped beside them.
The driver leaned out.
“Need a ride?”
Edward screamed.
Roy drew a transmutation glove halfway back.
The taxi driver screamed louder.
Everyone screamed.
Then the taxi sped away.
Edward pointed after it.
“THEY DRIVE.”
Roy stared.
“Advanced chimeras.”
“Very advanced.”
“Possibly intelligent.”
“That one screamed.”
“Understandable.”
A voice behind them said, “What in blazes are you two doing?”
Edward spun around.
An elderly duck stood there wearing a red coat, spectacles and top hat.
He carried a cane.
Edward narrowed his eyes.
The duck narrowed his eyes.
Roy whispered, “This one appears wealthy.”
“Maybe he’s in charge.”
“Of the chimeras?”
“Could be.”
The duck slammed his cane down.
“I heard that!”
Edward gasped.
“It understands Amestrian.”
“I understand perfectly good English!” the duck snapped.
Roy leaned toward Edward.
“Remarkable linguistic programming.”
“STOP CALLING ME PROGRAMMED!”
Edward recoiled.
The duck marched closer.
“Who are you two?”
Edward folded his arms.
“Edward Elric.”
“Colonel Roy Mustang.”
The duck looked them up and down.
“You’re drunk.”
“No,” Roy said.
Edward nodded.
“Very.”
Roy glanced at him.
“Traitor.”
The duck sighed.
“Scrooge McDuck.”
Edward blinked.
“McDuck?”
“Yes.”
Roy leaned toward Edward again.
“He has duck in his name.”
“I noticed.”
Scrooge’s eye twitched.
“Where did ye come from?”
Edward pointed vaguely behind himself.
“A Gate.”
“A what?”
“Long story.”
Roy smiled.
“A fascinating story.”
“You fell through it screaming.”
“That part needn’t be emphasized.”
Scrooge stared at them.
Then he stared at the scorched transmutation circle burned faintly into the pavement beneath them.
His expression changed.
“What did ye do?”
Edward followed his gaze.
“Oh.”
Roy looked down.
“Oh.”
Scrooge’s eyes narrowed.
Edward suddenly had the unpleasant feeling that they had found someone capable of matching Mustang’s judgmental stare.
“You two,” Scrooge said, “are coming with me.”
⸻
Gyro Gearloose was delighted.
Scrooge McDuck was not.
“This,” Gyro said, crouching over Edward’s sketch of the Gate, “is incredible!”
“This,” Scrooge said, “is nonsense.”
“It can be both,” Edward muttered.
They were standing inside a laboratory filled with machines Edward couldn’t identify.
Roy had stopped calling everyone chimeras after Gyro politely explained evolutionary biology for approximately forty seconds.
Edward had required another fifteen minutes.
He still looked suspicious.
“So,” Gyro said, “you use alchemy to rearrange matter?”
“Yes.”
“By understanding its composition?”
“Yes.”
“And this circle acts as a computational framework?”
Edward paused.
“That is… actually not a terrible way of describing it.”
Gyro beamed.
Roy leaned against a workbench.
“Congratulations. Fullmetal likes you.”
“I do not.”
“You didn’t yell.”
“I yelled earlier.”
“At Scrooge.”
“He deserved it.”
“I heard that!” Scrooge shouted from across the laboratory.
Edward shouted back, “GOOD!”
Gyro adjusted his goggles.
“And the portal occurred accidentally?”
Roy and Edward exchanged looks.
“Yes,” Roy said.
“No,” Edward said simultaneously.
Gyro blinked.
Roy smiled.
“It was an experimental dimensional transportation array.”
Edward stared at him.
“You thought we were making booze.”
Roy’s smile froze.
Scrooge slowly turned around.
“You opened a hole between universes making alcohol?”
Edward pointed at Roy.
“His idea.”
“My idea was heat.”
“You encouraged me!”
“You said you knew chemistry!”
“I DO KNOW CHEMISTRY!”
“You drew the Gate!”
“YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT YOUR HAIR!”
Gyro quietly wrote something down.
Scrooge rubbed his forehead.
“I’ve met Launchpad McQuack, and somehow you two are still giving me a headache.”
A dramatic voice suddenly thundered from the laboratory entrance.
“Fear not, citizens! For when scientific calamity threatens Duckburg, when mysterious outsiders arrive from dimensions unknown, when danger spreads its shadow across the innocent—”
Everyone turned.
A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway.
Cape.
Hat.
Mask.
Roy raised an eyebrow.
Edward squinted.
The figure swept forward.
“—I am the terror that flaps in the night!”
Edward whispered, “Oh no.”
“I am the misplaced decimal in the equation of evil!”
Roy whispered back, “I like him.”
“I am—”
“Darkwing Duck,” Scrooge said.
Darkwing stopped.
“Yes.”
“We know.”
“You could let me finish.”
“We’re busy.”
Darkwing folded his arms.
“Well, I received reports of two suspicious human-shaped creatures appearing in downtown Duckburg.”
Edward bristled.
“Human-shaped?”
Darkwing pointed.
“You called three civilians chimeras.”
“They’re ducks!”
“Yes.”
“Talking ducks!”
Darkwing stared at him.
“You’re very observant.”
Edward lunged.
Roy caught him by the back of his coat.
“Diplomacy.”
“I’M GOING TO DIPLOMACY HIS FACE INTO THE FLOOR.”
Darkwing smiled.
“I like the small one.”
Edward stopped moving.
The laboratory became silent.
Roy slowly released him.
Scrooge backed away.
Gyro removed his goggles.
Darkwing’s smile faded.
“What?”
Edward spoke very quietly.
“Small?”
Roy stepped between them.
“Perhaps we should focus on dimensional travel.”
“Good idea,” Scrooge said immediately.
Gyro nodded rapidly.
“Excellent idea.”
Darkwing looked confused.
“Did I say something wrong?”
⸻
Three hours later, they had a plan.
It was not a good plan.
It was, however, the only plan available.
Gyro believed Edward’s failed array had created a temporary resonance between universes. If they reconstructed the circle and reproduced the energy pattern, they might open another Gate.
“Might?” Edward asked.
Gyro smiled nervously.
“Might.”
Roy crossed his arms.
“And if it doesn’t?”
Gyro glanced toward a machine occupying half the laboratory.
“Then there’s a small chance we’ll destabilize local space-time.”
Edward stared at him.
Roy stared at him.
Scrooge stared at him.
Darkwing leaned closer.
“How small?”
Gyro held two fingers approximately an inch apart.
Edward groaned.
“Of course.”
Scrooge pointed his cane.
“No exploding my city.”
“No promises,” Edward said.
“FULLMETAL.”
“What?”
“You cannot say that to the man whose laboratory we’re borrowing.”
Edward grumbled.
Roy looked toward the incomplete transmutation circle covering the floor.
There was one additional complication.
They needed heat.
A lot of it.
Gyro’s machinery could provide power, but Edward insisted the original reaction had involved Roy’s flame alchemy and might require an identical energy source.
Which was why Roy now stood in the center of the laboratory wearing his ignition gloves.
Darkwing stood beside him.
“So you snap your fingers and create fire?”
“Yes.”
Darkwing nodded slowly.
“Dramatic.”
Roy smiled.
“I have been told.”
Edward shouted from the floor, “DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM.”
Darkwing ignored him.
“Have you considered a cape?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I outrank most people who might criticize me.”
“Excellent philosophy.”
Edward looked up.
“Can we send him through the Gate instead?”
Darkwing gasped.
“Jealousy is unbecoming.”
“I’m going to transmute your cape into toilet paper.”
Scrooge sighed.
“Are humans always like this?”
“No,” Roy said.
“Yes,” Edward said.
Gyro raised both hands.
“Everyone ready?”
Edward knelt beside the completed circle.
He examined every line three times.
Roy watched him.
“You’re sober now.”
Edward glared.
“Unfortunately.”
“Do you regret the whiskey?”
Edward looked at the gigantic transdimensional machine surrounding them.
Then at the talking ducks.
Then at Darkwing, who was practicing dramatic poses.
“Yes.”
Roy nodded.
“A little.”
“You?”
Roy considered it.
“No.”
Edward stared.
Roy smiled.
“We met an entire civilization of talking ducks.”
“You called them chimeras.”
“So did you.”
“I was drunk.”
“So was I.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“It makes it understandable.”
Scrooge interrupted.
“Can we please send ye home?”
Edward placed both palms against the circle.
Roy lifted his hand.
Gyro pulled a lever.
Machines hummed.
Electricity arced.
Edward activated the transmutation.
Blue light flooded the laboratory.
Roy snapped his fingers.
Flames roared through the central chamber.
For one terrifying second, nothing happened.
Then—
The air split open.
The Gate appeared.
Edward grinned.
“It worked!”
Darkwing pointed dramatically.
“A portal!”
“Yes,” Edward shouted, “we noticed!”
The doors opened.
Darkness waited beyond them.
Hands emerged.
Scrooge stepped backward.
“I dislike this already.”
Edward stood.
Roy joined him beside the Gate.
Gyro looked delighted.
Darkwing looked even more delighted.
“You know,” Darkwing said, “I’ve always wanted to visit another dimension.”
“No,” Edward said.
“I could assist.”
“No.”
“My experience fighting supernatural threats—”
“No.”
“My considerable combat skills—”
“NO.”
Roy placed a hand on Edward’s shoulder.
“We should leave before he changes his mind.”
Edward nodded.
Scrooge approached them.
“If ye ever come back…”
Edward waited.
Scrooge pointed his cane directly at him.
“…don’t.”
Edward grinned.
“No promises.”
Scrooge’s expression became horrified.
Gyro shook Edward’s hand enthusiastically.
“Your alchemy is fascinating!”
“Your technology isn’t bad either.”
Roy shook Gyro’s hand next.
Darkwing stepped forward.
Roy smiled.
Darkwing smiled.
Edward immediately became suspicious.
Darkwing said, “Colonel.”
“Darkwing.”
“A pleasure.”
“Likewise.”
“You really should consider the cape.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“ROY!”
Roy stepped into the Gate laughing.
Edward turned toward Darkwing.
“If he comes back wearing a cape, I’m blaming you.”
Darkwing saluted.
“I accept full responsibility.”
Edward jumped through.
The Gate slammed shut.
Silence filled the laboratory.
Scrooge stared at the empty space.
Gyro stared at the empty space.
Darkwing stared at the empty space.
Finally Scrooge said, “Humans are insane.”
Gyro nodded.
“Fascinating, though.”
Darkwing crossed his arms.
“The fire one had style.”
Scrooge walked away.
“I need a drink.”
⸻
Roy Mustang’s office exploded.
Again.
Riza Hawkeye entered approximately three seconds later with her weapon drawn.
Smoke filled the room.
The desk was overturned.
The carpet was destroyed.
A bizarre copper still occupied one corner.
And lying in the center of the floor were Colonel Roy Mustang and Edward Elric.
Both were covered in soot.
Both smelled strongly of alcohol.
Neither moved.
Hawkeye lowered her gun.
Slowly.
“Colonel.”
Roy raised one hand.
“Hawkeye.”
Edward groaned.
“Floor’s moving again.”
“The floor is not moving.”
“Told you.”
Hawkeye’s eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
Roy and Edward looked at each other.
There were many possible answers.
Alchemy.
Alcohol.
Dimensional physics.
Talking ducks.
A billionaire.
An inventor.
A masked vigilante.
A cape.
Roy cleared his throat.
“Training exercise.”
Edward turned his head.
“You lying bastard.”
Hawkeye cocked her pistol.
Roy immediately reconsidered.
“Drunken transdimensional incident.”
Hawkeye stared.
Edward raised one finger.
“There were ducks.”
Hawkeye stared harder.
“Talking ducks.”
Silence.
Edward nodded.
Roy nodded.
Hawkeye looked at the homemade distillery.
Then at the burned transmutation circle.
Then back at them.
“How much did you drink?”
Roy considered the question.
“We ran out.”
Edward nodded.
“That was the problem.”
Hawkeye closed her eyes.
For several seconds she said nothing.
Then she turned toward the door.
Roy blinked.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t going to ask more questions?”
“No.”
Edward lifted his head.
“Why?”
Hawkeye paused in the doorway.
“Because I have served under Colonel Mustang long enough to know when ignorance is a form of self-preservation.”
She left.
Edward dropped his head back onto the floor.
Roy stared at the ceiling.
A long silence followed.
Then Edward said, “Mustang.”
“Yes?”
“If we ever drink together again…”
Roy waited.
“…we’re buying more alcohol first.”
Roy thought about this.
“A sensible precaution.”
“And you’re not allowed near the transmutation circle.”
“That seems discriminatory.”
“You opened a portal to a duck universe.”
“You drew the circle.”
“You distracted me.”
“With my hair?”
“With your stupid face.”
Roy smiled.
Edward frowned.
Then Roy reached into his uniform pocket.
Something crinkled.
He paused.
Edward looked over.
“What?”
Roy pulled out a small object.
A purple feather.
Both men stared at it.
Edward slowly sat up.
“No.”
Roy turned the feather between his fingers.
Edward pointed.
“No.”
Roy’s smile grew.
“No, Mustang.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“I know that look.”
“What look?”
“The terrible idea look.”
Roy stood.
Edward scrambled upright.
“Mustang.”
Roy examined the feather thoughtfully.
“Dimensional travel could have significant military applications.”
“ROY.”
“And scientific value.”
“ROY.”
“Perhaps we should attempt—”
Edward tackled him.
The two crashed into the remaining section of desk.
From the hallway, Riza Hawkeye heard the impact.
She continued walking.
Some problems, she decided, were best left for tomorrow.
Preferably after confiscating every bottle of alcohol in Central Command.