This is my first fanfic ever, so please be easy on me! If you have any suggestions for improvement, I beg you on my knees to offer them. If not, well ... enjoy x).

Summary: Three years after the two brothers had believed they had seen the last of Amestris, Edward and Alphonse Elric must once again embark on a treacherous journey to satisfy the law of equivalent exchange.

Spoilers: Many! Beware! If you dislike spoilers and don't want to find out what happened during the movie or whatever, don't read! This is sort of like a sequel to Conqueror of Shambala - with a few extra twists (wink wink).

Pairings: Ah-huh. Now, I know I have many readers who all have different view points, so I'll include EdxWinry, EdxRoy, Royai, Elricest, EdxNoah, AlxNoah, AlxWinry, and whatever else as much as possible. Though, admittedly, maybe the storywill tilta bit more to the Royai, Elricest, and EdxWinry side, I promise I'll do myself to satisfy everybody as much as possible! And if, well, you don't really care about pairings - this story is still great for you as well.

Other Notes: I get an infinite case of deadly writer's block o.O. Though I'll update as much as I can, I swear it.

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me, nor do the characters, though the storyline and everything else does.

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Prologue

New York City, The United States of America

"Edward Elric?" a man oftwo and thirty peered over his ebony reading glasses, his finely cut mustache and groomed hair a spectacular symbol of his enormous wealth. He wore a black, slackened buttoned coat with a white collared shirt and pure black tie underneath, whilst his simple colorless pants matched perfectly with two splendidly polished shoes, and as the blond haired man before him had to admit, looked rich enough to dazzle a king. He held in his elegantly adorned fingers wads of documents, clutching them tightly in a manner that suggested a burning hatred of paperwork; his legs were crossing railroad tracks, and his desk, a cedar-smelling masterpiece of burnt wood and rosettes, was sure enough to glamor all the woodcutters of the world. He held an air of purity, of tumultuous dignity, as though somebody had offered him the essence of life and he had gladly drank from and such a historic item. Why, even the room he was sitting in could have made the emperors of China swoon with jealousy! Precious jade antiques embroidered the walls with lavish sofas and an intricately made coffee table - Edward felt an immediate annoyance to the familiarity of smugness.

"Yes, Mr. Mustang?" Ed almost winced. Even the last names were the same! What did this world not have?

"You wanted to get a job as an investigator ... ?" he raised his eyebrows, as though the very thought of a man as short and young as Edward was horrifically repulsive.

"Yes, Mr. Mustang." Why, oh why, did he have to address this stupid stupid ignorant ignorant man so formally?

"May I ask why?" Mustang was now smiling like a know-it-all God, his aura of superiority disastrous tsunamis to Edward's waning patience. Edward has visited the man the week before this, and the week before that, and the week before that ... this was becoming completely tiring already. Why did the stupid man have to talk like they had just just met?

"I would like to do this world justice," Ed answered with all the honesty of the universe.

"Why?"

"Because there's so many wrong things going on here. Somebody needs to come and correct it."

Mustang looked heartily at Ed, a manic twinkle in his eye - of which Ed automatically disliked. The Mustang of this world was far too much like the Mustang of the other world; two twins in opposite dimensions. It was as though the Gate had decided Ed had not suffered enough torture, and decisively but mortifyingly placed an alter right under Edward's twitching nose, the ugly stench of obeying orders and becoming - once again - a dog repulsive enough to make Edward pinch it.

"Well," Mustang glanced at Edward, obviously amused to the point of laughing, "looks like you really don't change your views. You do realize that there's a war going on?"

"That's what's wrong!" Ed retorted, suddenly reminding himself to be respectful. "I need to make this world a better place."

"Then why don't you become a soldier?" the question resonated through the room like a gong in Edward's head. "Instead of asking me to send you there on American police investigations, why don't you go to the front of the line and fight the Nazis?"

Edward hesitated to release his true answer, as though he could not trust people enough. To tell of the murderous bomb in this world, and for it to be suspected by he and his brother to be in the U.S... the man before him would definitely acknowledge Edward as a lunatic. An insane madman.Edward had spent hours and hours of heated debate and discussion with Alphonse, whether he should become a government official so he could receive more access and information into reliable, noteworthy sources - and they had come to temporarily comfortable conclusions.

As an investigator, he would not actually be sent to war, but rather simply look into war crimes and miscellaneous barbarous activities, like a stuck-up nosed child digging into other people's private businesses. But why not? He had been searching forone goddamn yearfor that stupid bomb, and still, he had not a single clue! This is turning into another Philosopher's Stone, he had too often vehemently thought as he racked his brains for an alternate solution. But what could he do? As an investigator, he could travel without paying his expenses (mostly), and also, he would obtain as much necessary information as allowed to the impossibly placed whereabouts of the unknown bomb. They didn't care if it would helpbring this world to peace or stop thewar or anything - but that bomb definitely had to go.Edward and Alphonse simply could not allow such an abhorred, such a disastrous thing todetonate - a worthy end of the world, definitely so. But then was aroused the question of what they should to with Noah, which would be answered later, they had both decided.

"I feel like my talents lie elsewhere," Ed replied. "Not in fighting, but in solving."

Mustang eyed Edward suspiciously, as though to dig out the verytruth from peering into Ed's very eyes, his very soul. A fierce stare was returned, and the chief officer leaned back reasurringly, a smile playfully tickling his lips. His hands were a wide ocean when they dropped the paperwork to the area of the desktop where glass was securely encased, his eyes a vast solar system with particular plans for the young man when glancing at Edward. Uneasy, Edward dared himself the question.

"So ... am I in?"

Mustang wholeheartedly laughed and waved a hand for Ed's dismissal, a constant beckoning of the torturous cases he was soon to engulf Edward - or so he sensed. "You'll receive your results in a week. Come to my office at one o'clock Friday and then we'll talk business."

"Thank you."

Edward secretly cursed for having to wait another awkward, terrifying week in the tumultuous streets of New York; where shoe polishers would grovel for his boots to shine and taxis would honk for his bottom to ride. The buildings all around him were horrifyingly tall (reminding him thus he was horrifyingly small), people would push and shove and act like the true saints of the devil, and above it all - Alphonse and Noah actually seemed to enjoy the wretched city. As loud as a donkey, as rude as a mule, as revolting as a slug, and yet - as different as a universe, New York was something Ed had never before seen - and never will - witness another quite like it. The people were bees, buzzing constantly around in a flurry of car wings to arrive at their destination, and the buildings were merely the many hives they could so easily choose from, and not to mention the honey - the infinitely importantmoney. Yes, New York was something different - no, the United States was something different. As agonizingly and painfully slow Ed, Al, and Noah had come to learn English, they all had to (Edward grudgingly) admit, the language was well worth the reward.

Edward bowed as Mustang swung his chair around to face his window, which displayed a spectacular 13-story-view of the mulling city, the reflection of the windows winking back like stars. He quickly left the office and came face-to-face with an anxiously waiting Alphonse and softly smiling Noah, waiting oh-so-loyally for the surely brilliant news. And brilliant news they received.

"I think I'm in," Edward said reasurringly, grinning from ear to ear. "Though Mustang still annoys the hell out of me, I suppose dealing with him again won't be as bad as last time." Alphonse broke into an acknowledging smile and the three carefully went down the elevator, as they were not sure the things were as trustworthy as people claimed, and clambered out of the building and into the beaming sun. Already, people began to call and ignore the trio, but they glided as smoothly as birds in the ever-blue sky down to their hotel, where they would faithfully stay for another week.

Rizenbul, Amestris

Pinako laughed as freely as her aging body would allow, with a chortling brawny-muscled Armstrong aiding her in the kitchen. She wore her gray hairtraditionally in an oblong bun (which, she suddenly remembered, Ed had sometimes teased to be an overgrown toothpick), and her apron was no different from her previous scenes, as was theblowing pipe stuck firmly between her teeth, while expertly tossing pancakes up in the air, never missing or ever dropping a scrap of food onto the wooden floor. Armstrong gleamed his familiar magnificence of purple, twinkling stars, his hands busily chopping meat at what seemed incredulously to Pinako's eyes - the speed of light. They were indeed carefree.

"Lady Pinako," the brawny now first lieutenant began, his eyes firmly concentrated on his chopping, "are you not worried for Winry?"

"Why would I be worried about that girl?" Pinako asked. "She's strong and talented. She's going to make a killing out there without me holding her behind."

"Ah, yes," Armstrong admitted. "But this last year ... she's barely been home enough to say hello, with her absorbed in that automail school of hers and all that extensive traveling. I heard that she's graduating after only one year and going to board up in Central temporarily?"

"Yes," Pinako said, smiling contemplatively as she remembered her last, seemingly yesterday visit with her prodigy of a granddaughter. "She's going to taste the experience of the outside world for a few years. After she graduates from Rush Valley University and lives for a while in Central, she's going to come home ... or so she claims. But I have a feeling that new foreigner in her isn't going to go away soon."

"Where in Central will she live?" Armstrong asked ludicrously, as though the very thought of a young woman living completely independently was suicidal. "Does she not know that women her age are the most often attacked of all victims?"

"Oh, don't you worry a thing, Mr. Armstrong," Pinako reasurringly replied, gathering the freshly done pancakes and carefully placing them on the two waiting plates. "Den is going with her."

"And thus you shall live here alone, Lady Pinako?" Armstrong emotionally implored, his eyes tingling with tears of admiration.

"Well...I'll have the other residents of Rizenbul with me. Besides, she said that she would write andcall and visit often."

"So you truly mean to say that you will live in this house - just yourself?"

"Yes."

"What a brave woman you are, Lady Pinako! Truly, the Rockbell family possesses females of outrageous gumption and everlasting courage!"

"Now, now, don't flatter me. I'm just doing what I have been doing for all my life. Speaking of Central, how's that Roy Mustang doing? Winry hasn't sent me much letters or phone calls lately, and it gets annoying not knowing what's happening."

"Well," Armstrong cautiously began, thinking strenuously of what had happened into words, "he's been promoted - considerably, and I don't see why they should not. Roy Mustang has done much for our country, and yet, much of the credit went not to him, but the blasphemous higher officials who did nothing of the sort to protect the people, only themselves. However, he is once again a Colonel. I heard rumors that he is going to be promoted yet again - to a general."

"A general, eh?" Pinako offered a smoke from her pipe which she inhaled deeply. "What about his subordinates? What's happened to them?"

"Following him under his command, reassuringly! Though they have been raised quite a few ranks, they would not dare part with Mustang, their constant superior, for a second, I do say! It isa beautiful bond that ... cannot be witnessed elsewhere."

Pinako could only comfort Armstrong with a pat on his head as he wept with the force of a hurricane, though smiling throughout the whole time as his eyes poured outoceans' worthof water. A general, subordinates, and promising automail mechanic? Pinako thought with all the logic and wisdom of her world, her hands still tangling the thorn of her pipe. It looks like everybody's moved on.

"And what about you, Mr. Armstrong?" Pinako offered, hoping that such a question would distract him from his tumultuous tears. "Where are you now?"

"Oh, Lady Pinako," he smiled happily, pointing to his head towards the sky as though he were an angel worshipping the glory of heaven, "I am a Lieutenant Colonel, and I do my job respectfully well in the city of Lior, of which I currently possess some part of governing. The people there have suffered so, and it is only my greatest wish and desire to help bring them back to the bossom of truth and love!"

Pinako amusedly watched her visting friend cry quite a few more rivers before kindly offering the finished breakfast, which they both satisfyingly ate and enjoyed.

Central, Amestris

"Den!" Winry Rockbell cried indignantly, her black buckled shoes stampeding violently upon the wooden house's floor. "Stop running around! Stop!"

The slippery dog barked joyfully and sprang surprisingly gracefully upon the new, leathery, white as milk sofa, and rolled a good five times over it before Winry managed to rescue her sofa from more dog hairs. Unfortunately, not only was hair splattered all over the lovely couch, but paw prints as black as ebony stained the soft plumpness of her temporary sleeping quarters (she was to buy a bed later), and made her groan desparingly at the vigorous washing she was soon to perform. Den tackled the cedar hardwood floor and thoroughly investigated the rest of the one-story house along with the two bathrooms, two bedrooms - one of which Winry would use as her workshop - and spaciously designed garage, Winry chasing his tail all along the way. The walls were a slight peach though the ceiling a full-blown bloodless white, and the added porch and vast backyard which needed tumultuous work but Winry could nevertheless do made the house seem more convenient than ever.

"Den!" Winry panted, leaning over her kneeds. Why were dogs such hard pets to take care of? Why did they have to ruin everything white and perfect? "Stop ... you're going to make our roommate mad ... now!"

Den proceeded to race to the gardens and tear at all the remaining plants. Winry fell into silence as she contemplatively watched her dog chew and spit out all the unnecessary weeds she had earlier planned to rid. However, now that Den was doing all the work for her, she reluctantly decided to clean the mess the ignorant dog had made initially, and firmly closed the door separating the backyard and the house. Den had not even noticed.

"Stay there, okay?" Winry softly whispered into the glass. He did not even notice he was trapped in the large, wooden prison of weed and dirt.

Winry sighed before walking to her restroom to retrieve a pale and mop. The light switched dimly on, reminding Winry to fix the electricity circuits of the house as well. She glanced intensely at her surroundings, well aware that his house was much more than one hundred years old, and yet in such amiable condition, though considerably scratched andintensely webbed with spiders. But Winry Rockbell could do whatever she wanted with the house. It was absolutely no problem to rejuvenate her home into a cleanly, beautiful, admirably new state. Sharing her house with some unknown other was no problem with her, so long as they let her work her way through the night on her automail.

"Time to get to work," she grimaced and began to aid her couch.

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Horrifically long paragraphs, endlessly boring events, and a weird timeline. I need to get myself an editor.

And just in case if anybody is confused, Winry only went to her automail college for one year. Because she's just smart like that. ;D

THIS STORY WILL BE FINISHED. IT WILL NOT BE ONE OF THOSE NON-ENDING STORIES.