After receiving many reviews reguarding this story, all good but with mention of bad grammar, I took it upon myself to read the story through-again. When I read it, I was ashamed of the errors. I'm truely sorry for the horror I've put you all through! I've Re-Edited the story for the pleasure of my fans and with confidence I can honestly say you will like this. I've removed and added a few things through out the story but it's for the best. The story took a new turn along the way and I think you all will like it. Thanks!

Prologue—

"Your hair, it's so soft. I bet it's real, isn't it? It's not that cheap dye that you pay someone to put on it. That makes it all the better..." He smiled and cut off strands of blond hair and lifted his hand, inhaling the sweet scent.

"Smells good, too." She could see the shiver of delight than coursed down his body and even more so, the edge of madness that lurked in his eyes. "Who would have thought...?" He cooed to her, running a hand through her hair. "…right under all their noses." His fist tightened suddenly, clenching her hair in his fist. "Though, you're beginning to pain me. It's all for the better though."

He patted her forehead and hunched down, tugging at the chains on her wrists and ankles. "Isn't it…Hawkeye?"

(Chapter 1)

"You know, Mustang, you're close. Only a little more and you'll become Fuhrer. Remember what you said?" Jean Havoc, first Lieutenant in command, nudged Roy Mustang—now the Brigadier General—with his elbow and whispered in his ear, "About those miniskirts. Maybe they'll give it some thought now."

"Hmm, now that you mention it, maybe, just maybe I should bring it up before Them. I haven't mentioned anything about it yet BUT—"

Havoc whirled around, cutting Roy off in mid-sentence and picked up a small piece of clothing—navy blue. "Colonel! Hawkeye! How about you try—"

Three gunshots echoed loudly in the room, the end of Rizas pistol smoking. Havoc peeked through the three incrediably small holes right in the middle of the mini-skirt he held in his hands. Bullets.

"You were saying?" They wouldn't dare. They were smarter than that. At the least, Riza hoped they were. Riza Hawkeye, now Colonel, feared by most because of her skill with guns and her calm, ice cold composure, looked at Havoc with that serene expression on her face. She arched an eyebrow.

For once in his life, Havoc didn't have a cigarette in his mouth. At least now they knew Havocs "cigarette syndrome" wasn't permanent.

Hawkeye crushed the smoking bud.

"Nothing, nothing at all!" Havoc waved his hands in front of him slowly. "I just wanted to give this to you…well, to a friend." He'd quickly changed the subject of giving it to her. Smart thinking. It was a quick lie. It was obvious that Havoc preferred to keep his body bullet free. He mock glared but kept a good distance away. "But seeing that you ruined it…" Havoc quickly stopped that sentence, knowing better than to keep going when Riza glanced at him.

Smart man.

Why the hell would he joke with her about something like that when she had a gun on her? When didn't she have a gun on her?

Riza took an empty seat beside Kain Fuery, now Second Lieutenant. For the moment, he was on her good side.

Kain shook his head, scratching it. "I'm wide awake now." One of these days Roy and Havoc were going to really get hurt and the one doing the hurting would be Riza.

She took a small sip of her coffee, silently sighing at the pleasure of the warm beverage. She didn't even glance up from the wrinkled newspaper in her hands, not even with Roys last words "I'll ask them later."

They were, of course, scheming together, Roy and Havoc. Only God knew what about.

It was a typical day. Riza sipping the coffee and reading the paper, Fuery playing with Black Hayate, Sergeant Falman and Second Lieutenant Breda were just walking in.

Their so-called peace was interrupted when Heymans umped back from Black Hayate, staring at the dog as if it were the devil itself. "What's that thing doing here!"

"How can you be so scared of him? He's so cute." Fuery picked up Black Hayate and scratched him behind the ears.

"It's storming outside." Riza didn't look up from the paper as she spoke, as if those words alone were explanation enough.

"Well, you could have left him at home?" Heymans tone of voice was filled with hope.

With a grin, Havoc stood. Too quickly. Oh yea, he was up to something. He took Hayate from Fuery and all but shoved the dog in Heymans face. "How can you be scared of him? How can you be scared of something you can EAT?"

Heymans stepped back, a hell of a distance away and Riza swore his face turned green. With a sigh she snapped her fingers and Hayate wiggled and squirmed out of Havocs arms and ran to sit at her side. If only the men were so obedient.

Hawkeye bid them all a good-day and a good-bye, mentioning for them to get to work before she left the room. Of course, she should have known they wouldn't listen.

It was quiet, too damn quiet and hell, Havoc couldn't take it anymore. "It's been so boring around here." He blurted out. "Come on, Mustang, why are you holding out on us? I know you have something for us to do." Besides work.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Roy rubbed his chin, his eyes thoughtful.

"About time." Havoc muttered.

"I have a date. Don't know what you guys are doing, but I'm booked." Roy shrugged indifferently and saluted them with two fingers to his brows.

With those words, Fuery felt like banging his head on the table and Havoc groaned. "Not again…"

Roy waited a slow, five agonizing minutes before telling them of the assignment that they'd been assigned too.

Roy sat down at his desk three hours later, his manner serious.

"Crimson City." He glimpsed the map and then motioned towards the middle before laying his finger on the city mark. "In this small town, Crimson City, there have been murders, strange ones, drawing attention."

"Murders?" Heymans questioned lamely. "They don't assign us to murders, Mustang. This isn't our jurisdiction."

"Not normally, no. We suspect Alchemy is being used in the murders. Everything points to it but at the same time…" Roy trailed off and ran a hand through his hair. But at the same time it seemed human. They were at odds.

"From what I've been informed, he goes after women only. Because he has a sick, demented mind or he's just doing it to draw out the authorities or us, I don't know. He'd have to have known we'd be drawn in. He butchers them, torturing them until they die. That's what they're assuming. He has a pattern." One Roy hoped the bastard wouldn't change. It would make it easier to catch the creep. "One to two murders every two weeks. It's been going on for three months now. They're trying to keep it on the down-low so as not to start a riot. Enough people are already suspicious."

He threw out a few pictures of the murder victims, their disfigured bodies on the glossy film grotess.

"Women?" Falman questioned.

"Yes. Hopefully, we can put an end to this before it gets anymore out of hand. I can't honestly say I like leaving Central over something like this."

"You don't have to go, Sir, you're not being made to." Havoc stated the obvious, blowing a puff of smoke out of the corner of his lips as he did so.

Roy shrugged. "I'm going." He'd be damned if he stayed here while the others were out having fun on this crime scene. Yes, it was putting himself in danger but hell, that was what he did. He was indestructible. Well, almost. "From what I can tell, Crimson City is well named. The amount of blood that has been shed there over the years, it fits."

He looked up at his "team". They didn't know it but he was proud of them. These—he could truly call friends. Falman, Hawkeye, Havoc, Heymans and Fuery. Weird lot, but so what. He was glad they'd all been called in for this mission. They all had experience in what was needed.

"We'll be gone for a while. We leave in the morning, eight sharp."

"In the morning...!" Havoc muttered.