Fullmetal Possible
Introduction
A Kim Possible/Full Metal Alchemist Fusion
by sweetPixiesmile
Rated M for disturbing scenes, language, adult situations and issues, and eventual slash pairings.
Beta(s): None.
A/N: So this thing's been niggling at me until I caved in and wrote this. It'll be an adaptation of Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Fused with Kim Possible. I'm a slash author, so if that isn't something you like, you should probably stop reading this. I'm not into cutesy omakes to break the mood, so expect lots of angst and dark humour moments.
* KP * * KP * * KP * * KP * * KP * * KP * * KP * * KP * * KP * * KP *
She ran, her hand clutching the scrap of paper she had found on her brothers' desk. Behind her, Joscelyn's high thin voice calling for Uncle Slim, fell behind as she sprinted down the dirt path, now mud in the heavy falling rain. She vaulted over the low stone wall that bracketed the road, and ran as fast as she could across the field, the tall green grass huddling under the falling drops. She left a broken trail behind her as she rushed towards the far house, three hills over.
Five miles.
The rain was the perfect companion to her tears.
Four miles.
The rain fell harder, stinging.
Three miles.
She slipped and fell, splashing into the mud filled trench by the road. She scrambled, her burning muscles and lungs twitching with fear.
Two miles.
The mud had washed off in the rain, but it couldn't wash away the gnawing terror.
One mile.
She skidded on the gravel in front of their house. She somersaulted over the ten steps, tucking and kicking out in a pike for more height. Her left foot landed, planting, all at once one with the immovable earth. Her right leg, swinging with the momentum of her leap, sizzling with the fire of the heavens. The door shattered, the wood splintering as her foot connected, the hinges squealing in useless protest as they bent and snapped. The door, cracked and shattered into pieces, flew in all directions. Her orange red hair flared as she passed into the darkness of the house.
Her eyes, full of hope and desperation, scanned the darkness of the open concept house, noting the furniture, jumbled up in a haphazard pile in one corner. On the cleared floor were two boys, two identical twins, kneeling before a complex circular design, their palms flat on the ground, their eyes alight with purpose and the flickering madness Kim had feared.
"Tweebs, STO-" was all she got out before a flash, as bright as the mid-day sun flared, turning everything white. Kim threw up her arm, screwing her eyes tightly shut, turning away from her brothers.
Until they began screaming.
Her eyes snapped open and her arm fell. In the bright light, she could see a monstrously large eye, a stark glimmering white against a pool of pervasive darkness that seemed to suck away the surrounding light. Hands, thin and emaciated, black as the darkness, rose from the iris of the crimson pupil, snaking along thin, tentacle like arms. They had wrapped around her two brothers, lifting their small bodies into the air, and wherever they touched the two struggling boys, the very fabric of their physical existence peeled away and unravelled, layer by layer, piece by piece. Their frightened, horribly bright eyes looked to her. Their hands reached out in supplication.
"Sis!"
"Help!"
"Sis!"
"Sis!"
"Si-"
She lunged forward, her hands reaching towards their grasping hands.
"Jim! Tim!" They disappeared, even as she brushed their fingertips with her own, a fraction of a second too late. The terrifying eye vanished, and with it, the last vestiges of what had been her brothers, her tweebs, her twin baby brothers.
She stumbled, her legs tangling in the clothing left behind by her brothers, and crashed to the floor.
"Jim, Tim!" she cried out, slamming a hand on the ground. She kipped up onto her feet and stared at the symbols closest to her. The Sun, for life and the body. The Moon, for the spirit. Her formulae, taken from her diary. Her obsession for the last four months.
"Dad..." And in the middle... she gasped in horror at the wheezing, pulsating thing. She choked on the bile that rose at the sight of the grotesque, suffering thing that was in the centre of the transmutation circle. She staggered sideways, stumbled backwards into the wall.
"No... no..." Tears streamed down her face as the thing twitched, puss and mucus fluids splattering on the wood floor as it coughed.
"The formulae were perfect," she mumbled. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!"
The thing lay, it's ribcage split open, the organs twisting in and out of the mutilated flesh. Only a single arm seemed human, normal, and it stretched out towards her, the fingers brushing the inscribed circles. She shook her head in disbelief, her hands pressed to her mouth to suppress the scream that escaped as a horrified squeak. It was a caricature of her father, but as if he had been turned inside out, still alive.
"No, not like this..." but in that split second, her mind was made up.
"It's my fault... all my fault," The years of training with her master. The months after, hiding in secret as she read and researched and wrote and rewrote her formulae in her diary, her transmutation instructions. Her eyes feel on the empty clothing. She knew what had to be done.
She cast about urgently, her eyes searching, finding. Her hands pulled down the two antique armour sets that damned woman had collected to the ground with a strength born of desperation. As they crashed down in a clatter, she bit down hard on her left index finger, until blood spurted. She had to hurry.
"Give them back," she growled as she wrote furiously. On the backplate, she drew the ward of holding. The circle for conjuration, the eight-rayed star for creation, encompassing all five elements. With her own life's blood she drew the upside-down curved mark for the Sigil of Beltaine, the Summoner, the Weaver of Souls. "They're my baby brothers, my tweebs!" Below, the symbol of her brother, Tim. Then the other, the same, with Jim's mark. She placed her hands atop each sigil. On her knees and put her hands, palm down, fingers splayed on the cold steel armour. She reached deep down inside herself, seizing the closed door inside herself and flung them open, connecting herself forcibly to the light beyond.
"Give me back my brothers, you bastard!" Who she was screaming at, she didn't know. A line suddenly described itself beneath her, stretching before and behind her. Then, suddenly the eye that had winked out as her brothers disappeared opened under her. She started in terror, but she suppressed it as the massive eye suddenly shifted, focusing on her.
"Give them back!"
Everything turned white.
The next thing she was aware of was waking. So cold. She was so cold.
As if from far away, she could hear blurred voices. They were frantic, frightened voices.
She gasped at the spikes of pain that woke her, briefly, as someone wrapped her body in a sheet and pulled it tight.
A shadow as shining a bright light in her eyes, waving painfully. She could smell the pungent flavour of tobacco. Uncle Slim. The high overwrought voice must be Joss. She wanted them to stop bothering her. She wanted to sleep. She was tired. So tired. So cold. Her right arm and left leg hurt so much, but she was tired. So very tired.
And then, sweet, blessed oblivion.