Alternate Summary: Bored of the same events occurring over and over again, the Truth decides to drag five unsuspecting people into Amestris, scatter them across the country, and watch the chaos that plays out. And the chaos that does occur is inevitable, seeing as these five teenagers have been gifted with strange powers that probably will end up killing them before anyone else gets the chance.

Part One: The Invitation

Chapter One – Set It Off

"My main objective is to stand for what I believe; maybe hear the sounds of the guillotine."

Damon Pythias

Blood fills my mouth, and I faintly wonder why before opening one eye to see if I can find out. This accomplishes nothing at all, because I can't see anything due to the fact that I'm face-down on the ground, which happens to feel like it's made of small jagged rocks that are cutting into my skin. That might explain the blood, I think, turning my face to one side so I can breathe without inhaling any pebbles.

Propping myself up onto my elbows, I look to my left and then to my right. It seems like I'm in the end of an alleyway at night.

How did I get here? I only remember going to bed, not wandering around and ending up here.

I pull myself upright, shaking my head, and turn to face the street when I see a silhouette of a man standing at the end of the alley.

"You're the Shock Alchemist, correct?" His voice is barely more than a whisper, yet it resonates in my mind, refusing to leave, as if I somehow have met him before, or know him, or at least his voice.

Squinting at him, I tilt my head and ask, "Who?"

He steps forward at the same time my eyes adjust to the dim light. Yellow coat, sunglasses, and dark – well, darkish, if I'm going to be accurate – skin. I don't need to see the scar on his face to know who he is.

"Oh," I say, regretting it as soon as I do. It isn't the best thing to say, especially at this time. So I decide to dig my grave even deeper by saying, "You're Scar."

"And you're the Shock Alchemist?" Scar repeats, tensing his hand.

It takes me a second to process what is happening. "No," I drawl, sounding very much like I am lying. "Uh, listen, I, um, I just want to be friends, okay?" What the heck am I thinking? "Not fight."

He raises an eyebrow and stares at me, scowling his typical serial-killer scowl. "You're unusual for a State Alchemist, but you are one nonetheless." He starts walking towards me ominously. Very ominously, given that he's, you know, a serial killer.

I have the worst luck, don't I?

I back up at the same pace he's advancing. "Please think for a second before trying to blow my head up, since I'm not a State Alchemist. My name's Damon Pythias, I'm eighteen, and I'm not even an alchemist at all."

Of course, this doesn't even deter him; he keeps walking forward like the Juggernaut. I really don't want to have my head explode, so I keep backing up.

"Can you just hold on?" I gasp when I hit the wall, trying to decide what to do from here.

I had always thought Scar was a cool dude, but that was after character development. Now, as he's trying to kill me, I'm not so sure. That does change my opinion of him.

Wait, if I can remember his fighting style, then I can learn how to combat it, or at least avoid dying as long as possible. He'll need to get in close to blow my face up, which will prove to be a problem, seeing as I have nowhere to run except for in his direction. If I do manage to get out of this alley, I'll have to avoid stairs and anything that could potentially fall, seeing as he tends to blow things up when he's chasing people.

I'm going to get murdered before I even spend five minutes here.

I take a deep breath before pushing myself off of the wall, using it to give myself enough force to run. As I do this, I realize two seconds in that it's one of the stupidest things I've ever done.

At least it confuses Scar for a fraction of a second, since he's probably wondering why the heck I would attempt to do such an idiotic thing. He throws his arm – the tattooed one – out directly in front of my head.

"Oh, crap–" I say when I see his intentions to blow up my face. There's no way at all to dodge it except for…

I trip and slam to the ground on my palms, propelled forward by the motion, and push myself upwards, running like my life depends on it, which it kind of does. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that he's following me, because the life of Damon Pythias is never easy.

Okay, he tends to kill in nearly-deserted places, unless the circumstances change. I just need to find a highly-populated area, preferably with people out at this time. Of course, I don't know how exactly to find the nearest place, so I'm left running from a serial killer, headed towards nowhere in particular.

He seems to be gaining on me, which is really annoying and very problematic, made more so by the fact that I can hear his alchemy as he blows up the building to his right. Well, I can tell what he was going to explode as it explodes right above my head. This is a very unfortunate problem indeed.

I barely manage to fling myself out of the way as a huge section of brick careens straight at me. Even then, it still smashes into my forehead, causing me to obviously black out.

Opening my eyes, I see that I'm standing in an overwhelmingly white background that seems to go on for all of eternity. I'm not sure if this is better or worse than being chased by Scar.

"Why, aren't you quite the troublemaker?"

It's – it's the thing with a name I can't remember to save my life. I glance around, trying to find the Gate it's always near, but it's not there, for some reason.

"Where's the Gate?"

"The Gate only appears to those who were born and live in this world, not yours. Since each person's individual gate allows them to perform alchemy – for those who are able to, of course – you won't be able to be an alchemist."

Staring at it, I ask, "Wait, what? I don't remember any of that happening in what I watched."

It – who I've decided to call Bull, since I can't recall its name – sighs loudly and shakes its head. "Oh, right, you don't know the ending. Where did you leave off again?"

I think for a moment and then say, "The zombie mannequins had just woken up and started to attack Ed and company, when Mustang came in."

"It's so annoying, having everything that happens here be a form of entertainment there," Bull says. "Anyways, it will be interesting, having a person who doesn't know the ending in Amestris along with someone who does."

"There's more than one person coming through?"

It nods. "There are five in total, you being the first, but you only know two of them. Numbers two and five won't have any idea where they are, while the fourth will have only watched all of the original series, which diverts from this universe about halfway through. The third is the one who knows everything about this one, and you know that you haven't even seen the entirety of the more accurate show, let alone the other adaption."

"Ah," I say, "then I'm the one who knows the second most?" Seeing it nod again, I ask, "The two ones I know are Jason and Lorelei; aren't they?"

If it had eyebrows, it would raise them. "That's quite an educated guess. I would ask how you knew, but I already know."

I shrug, saying, "You are all-knowing."

"There's also one more thing that I have to tell you. Since you are apparently the type to try to befriend serial killers, and I can't have you dying right away, you'll need life preservation skills, mainly in the form of a power. You'll be able to control objects, as long as they are suspended in the air." It sees my confused look. "Say you have a pen. If you toss it up, you'll be able to control it, but only for as long as it remains in the air. You'll be able to do this for longer periods of time with smaller objects; with size, your power will decrease."

I stare at it and say, "And how exactly is that supposed to help me survive?" Honestly, it seems really lame. Ooh, I can levitate this pen, but only for a certain amount of time before it fails!

It rolls its nonexistent eyes and taps its hand on its leg. "There's always particles suspended in the air. If you're trying to run away or hide from someone, create a dust cloud. You'll figure it out more in time, but that should be enough information for now. You can go back to fighting a serial killer now."

"I had forgotten how much I hated your guts. With your abilities, you can easily transport me somewhere else and save me the trouble of running away and trying to go wherever it is you want me to end up." I give it my most convincing grin, which is still not very convincing.

Bull glares at me despite having no eyes at all and says, "You really don't know when to quit, do you? But fine, as long as it means I don't have to talk to you anymore than I already have." It waves its hand lazily, and everything goes black.

With that, I'm standing next to a food truck, facing a small shop with a huge sign above it that simply reads MEAT. It looks like it's near the end of the day, completely different from the time when I met Scar.

"Can you hold the door open? My hands are kinda full." A man peers out from the back of the truck, holding a huge crate that's probably full of meat.

I nod and rush over to the door, propping it open with my foot as he carries the box inside.

He emerges a second later and says, "Thanks. Have I seen you around here before? You don't seem familiar."

Neither do you, I want to say. "No, this is my first time here. I'm from, um, Central."

His eyes brighten as he asks, "Really? My name's Mason. Have you had a good time in Dublith so far?"

"Yeah, the people here are really, uh, friendly. I'm Damon."

"Is that all of the crates, Mason?" A voice calls from inside the shop seconds before a giant of a man appears. When I say giant, I mean he looks like an Armstrong, minus the blonde hair and the sparkles.

Mason nods and answers, "Yeah, Sig, that's the last one. And this's Damon; he's visiting Dublith for the first time."

So that's why the man looked so familiar – he's Izumi's husband. That means – she's probably inside, waiting to throw knives at my head. Crap.

Sig stares down at me and I resist the urge to shrink under his gaze. It takes a lot of effort, trust me. "Is that so? I'm Sig Curtis; I run Curtis Meats." He points at the store behind him. "Where are you staying?"

I can't really say that I knew that already. "Um, nowhere yet, since I just got here; I don't have any money."

"You don't have any money?" Sig asks.

Think of an appropriate lie, Damon, you don't want to explain that you're from another world and that you got pulled here by a thing whose name you can't remember. "I had just gotten off the train when some guy decided to rob me."

"That's unfortunate," Mason says and frowns sympathetically.

I shrug and say, "I'll manage to find something out. I'm good at that sort of thing." It's true; I have always been good at finding out what to do in certain situations. That is, excluding Scar.

Sig shakes his head and asks, "Why don't you come inside for a while?"

I nod and follow him and Mason into the shop, then back into the dining room of what I assume is Sig's house. A dark-haired woman in a white dress is sitting at the table, reading a book and drinking from a cup of tea. She looks up as we walk in – I see that she's Izumi – and asks, "And who're you?"

Please don't beat me to a bloody pulp. "Damon Pythias."

"He's visiting from Central," says Mason. "He got his money stolen when he got here."

Izumi stares at me, narrowing her eyes. "And why are you back here, of all places?"

Um, how am I supposed to respond to that?

"I asked him to," Sig answers for me, much to my relief. I don't want to have to talk to her for any longer than I need to. "We do need another assistant at the shop, you know. Mason can't be everywhere at once, despite how much he tries."

Mason looks like he wants to interrupt and say he can handle it, but he decides against it and stays silent, probably for the better.

She raises her eyebrows questioningly and surveys me before replying. "I suppose, but where would he stay while working here?" She seems to have realized that I'm not one for talking and instead speaks directly to Sig, who she's pinpointed as the mastermind between this, not me.

"We have a spare bedroom." Sig shrugs and continues, "It could come out of part of his pay."

I notice how nobody is asking me what I want, but I don't complain.

Izumi sighs and closes her book with a snap, setting it down on the table and standing up. "Is this what you'd want?" She asks, turning towards me.

Well, scratch that last thought. "Uh, since I don't have anywhere else to go, it's nice, but it is ultimately up to you, not me." Hey, I may be in another world without any money, but I'm not impolite, that's for sure.

Rolling her eyes, she turns back to Sig and says, "Fine. But it's up to one of you to train him. I have a stack of alchemy books to read and I'm not up for training people." She sits down again and crosses her arms, looking at me. "You can start working tomorrow; there's not enough time to begin today."

"Um, thanks," I stutter, not knowing what to say, "I wasn't expecting that."

"I'll show you to your room," Sig says, and motions for me to follow him, which I do. He leads me to a room with just a bed, a nightstand, and a closet in it, then closes the door behind me.

Finally alone, I sit on the edge of the bed and glance around the room. There's a pen on top of the nightstand, and I pick it up, remembering what Bull – I still can't remember its name – said. I toss it into the air, watching it as it falls back down to my bed.

I throw it up again, wondering how exactly I can control it, and then again. Stay up in the air for five seconds?

Somehow, it does, and then comes crashing down on my head, startling me out of my thoughts. And probably drawing a line of ink down my nose while it does so, seeing as it was uncapped.

No, screw that about the uncapped part. Turns out it wasn't.

I repeat the process, this time thinking, stay up for a minute? The pen complies, and I stare at it as it hovers in the air for sixty seconds, then dodge out of the way as it goes back down into my waiting hand.

Yay, I can control a pen in the air! I'm practically ready to fight Fuhrer Bradley. Note that I am being sarcastic. If I went against him, I'd be chopped into little pieces of Damon and scattered across Amestris for the mice to pick at whenever they felt hungry. Or chained to a rock, having birds eat out my liver for all eternity, just like Prometheus, that's a possibility.

How exactly he'd manage to pull that off, I have no idea, but he's a Homunculus. He could do it within a blink of his (regular) eye.

Anyways, I get tired of tossing the pen around and decide to examine it. It's definitely not like the pens we use today, and I think it's called a fountain pen, or something along that nature.

Disinterested, I put it back on the nightstand and sigh quietly. It's been a seriously long day and it's only my first day here.

Well, twenty-four hour period here, seeing as it was the middle of the night when I ran like a chicken with its head cut off – yet still screaming – from Scar, and about dusk when I saw Izumi and Sig and Mason. How exactly a chicken can scream and run with its head cut off is not my problem.

There's a sharp knock on my door and I say, "Come in?" Crap. It's my room and I already act like I'm imposing on it.

Mason opens the door and sticks his head in before his whole body follows and he ends up fully in the room. "I was just wondering; do you have any clothes other than the ones you have on you right now? They don't seem like what would be your first choice for traveling."

I glance down at my clothes and find myself agreeing with him. Being in my school uniform is not exactly my go-to clothes for traveling to Amestris, or anywhere really. "Yeah, the guy who stole my money also took my bag, which had all of my clothes and supplies in it." I'm surprised at how easily the lie rolls off my tongue.

"Funny, I thought it'd be worse in Central than here in Dublith." His offhand comment makes me freeze momentarily, though he doesn't notice. "Anyways, I'll lend you some clothes in the morning, when I come back to open up the shop. I'm going to close up now, then go home."

"Thanks," I say, and he leaves me alone again. I slump against the wall and let out all my breath in relief that they don't suspect anything.

I don't even want dinner – or is it that I don't want to see Izumi and Sig again. It could be both.

Or maybe seeing a married couple doing married couple-y things scared me more than running from a serial killer and I lost my appetite because of that. Who knows?

I only mean to close my eyes for a moment, yet sleep washes over me like it's the ocean and I am the tide. No, the beach, I am the beach. The tide is part of the ocean. I make no sense.

"Hey, Damon," a voice says, startling me out of my sleep.

I sit up and look drowsily around, wondering why I'm not in my room like I normally am. It's a lot brighter than I would have liked it, and this most certainly is not my bed. "Huh?"

"It's time to start setting up the shop. I brought you new clothes like I said I would."

With a jolt, I realize that Mason's talking to me and that I'm in Izumi's house and that I'm really in Amestris and that it wasn't a dream or a joke or a delusion.

"Oh, thanks," I say, blinking the last traces of sleep from my eyes. "I'll be out in a minute."

He nods and closes the door behind him after leaving the clothes on the foot of my bed.

I pick them up and shrug inwardly. It can't hurt to try them on. Once I do, I look down at them, wondering how they could fit so well when Mason and I clearly aren't the same size. Oh well.

I wander out into the kitchen and find that Izumi and Sig aren't there; only Mason waits at the table. He offers me an apple, and I take it, looking it over on an instinct for bruises, but there thankfully aren't any.

"So," he says, "how've you been holding up? It's been quite a couple of days for you."

I shrug and take a bite of the apple, swallowing it before I say, "As well as I can be, given what's just happened. I'm still getting used to all this."

"Understandable," he says while nodding like he understands what I'm going through. "And, if you ever need to talk about it, I'm always – well, almost always – here."

What a joke. Yeah, if I tell him what really happened, I'm going to get thrown into an institution with no key to even throw away. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Though I won't consider it an option, it seems like the right thing to say

I finish eating and he points me in the direction of the trash before saying, "Ready to start work for the first time?"

Um, is not really an acceptable answer?

I nod and throw the apple in the trashcan, following him into the entrance to the shop. Its light – hanging from the ceiling, I think, but I'm not sure – is off, but I notice that it's vaguely ancient-looking, like something you'd find at an antique store. I hate antique stores. They're filled with dust and mildew – or mold, I don't know the difference – and I start sneezing whenever I'm in one. Needless to say, I tend to avoid them at all costs.

A red chalkboard with white-chalked letters and a blue star is hanging on the wall, next to a tall cabinet holding bottles, jars, and cans. A sign reading what I vaguely recall to be yesterday's date, followed by Meat Day and a picture of a cow's head is tacked onto the wall on the other side of the board. Next to that is a freezer filled with various meats.

The counter is set so it's perpendicular to the door we just came out of. There's a scale that's probably for weighing meat, an empty basin-like bowl, and a jar full of wrapped candy on it.

"The store opens in an hour, so there's enough time to at least explain the basics of working." Mason walks to the counter and opens a drawer in its back, pulling out a blue binder. "This is the set of instructions that Izumi gave me when I started working here." He hands it to me.

I thumb through it until I find the table of contents three pages in. It's filled with stuff like The Types of Meat and Recommendations and Prices and Specials and Membership Discounts. This is going to be either terribly confusing or terribly easy, with no in between. It's just how these things work.

Once I flip it closed, he begins to talk about the fundamentals, exactly like he said he would. I realize that, so far, this job sounds like it's going to fall into the terribly easy category.

I can do this. I hope.

He eventually takes the binder from me and points me through some of it in a way that's really easy to understand.

Terribly easy it is, then.

After a long time with this crash course to running a meat shop, an hour has passed and Mason unlocks the door, flipping over a sign in the window so that the Open written on it faces out.

"Does it usually get very busy?" I ask, wondering if I should prepare for a rabid horde of people to storm inside within a second.

He shakes his head and says, "Not at first; maybe a couple of people until right before lunch. That's when the majority comes in, but generally there's only a maximum of five or so." Five is still a lot – especially for a beginner – but he doesn't seem to get that, so I leave the point alone and don't mention it.

See, I can be nice, at least once in a while. Or at least, I can be polite. I'm not sure if nice is the correct word for that.

I see that something is missing from behind the counter and decide to ask him about it. "Uh, is there supposed to be no chair?"

"Oh!" He says, "I had forgotten all about that. I just lean on the counter and Sig is capable of standing motionless for hours at a time. I'll go get one right now. There shouldn't be anyone coming in for a while, so you should be good." He ducks back into the hallway and returns a moment later, chair in hand, putting it behind the counter, slightly to the left.

"What're the hours?" I ask, not trying to be conversational but wanting to know the time. I know, it's much easier to ask what I really was thinking, but I don't care.

Mason tilts his head as he presumably searches his mind for them. Or he could be wondering how strange it is that I didn't ask him before I started working. I don't know. "Ten to eight on Monday through Friday, but we usually take shifts," he says.

I nod and make my way over to the counter.

Much to my surprise, the first customer comes in right as I'm sitting down. She's an old lady – I know that's probably rude to say – with graying hair and an old-lady-y choice of clothing. With her is a younger girl – maybe her granddaughter – with slightly more normal clothes on.

Mason smiles at them and leans forward, his elbows on the counter. "Dante, Lyra, how goes it? Let me guess what you're here to buy." He pauses dramatically, clearly for effect. "Could it be meat?"

The old lady – Dante, I assume, because of the name – smiles slightly. Her gaze swivels to me. "Who's this?"

"He's Damon; he just started working for us today."

I give a halfhearted wave. So far, the only people that I remember from the show have been Scar, Sig, Izumi, and Bull – its name still eludes me greatly. Could everyone else not have been included?

"Hi," I say weakly, sounding completely pathetic, like I always do.

Lyra raises her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything.

Ugh.

I can already tell that this is going to be an interesting day.

Dante – why does that name sound so familiar? Maybe Lorelei mentioned it sometime. – gives another smile, this one directed at me. "Hello, Damon," she says in her old-lady-y voice, before continuing, "I'm Dante Alighieri and this is my granddaughter, Lyra. Have you been here long?"

I shake my head and say, "Nope. I actually arrived here yesterday."

"And they hired you?" Lyra tilts her head to one side, her voice deadpan.

"Guess I just have a trustworthy face," I say, shrugging.

She snorts and rolls her eyes, and I can't resist grinning. It looks like my first day here won't be that bad.

"Anyways," Mason says, "what can I get for you two young ladies today? The usual, I presume; a two-kilogram boneless pork tenderloin?"

Dante nods and says, "You are correct."

He winks at me like I'm in on the conspiracy, and whispers, "I'm secretly psychic." He goes to ready the meat, leaving me alone at the counter.

He never told me I'd ever be left alone. I sit there, staring awkwardly at them, unsure of what to do. Great, now I'm going through separation anxiety and it's only my first day on the job.

"So," Lyra says, drawing the word out, "what led you to work here?"

"Mostly, a lot of crazy coincidences that I still can't believe are true." Like how I got pulled in by Bull into a fictitious world and that half of the people I meet aren't even in the anime. I don't need to tell them the whole story. If I did, I wouldn't tell them. Hey, what I said wasn't even a lie, really.

Mason reappears from the door, holding a package of meat. He puts it on the scale, weighing it and apparently doing the math in his head. "That'll be eight-hundred and fifty cenz, please."

I decide not to comment the fact that it sounds extremely expensive, as Amestris probably has a different set of currency than America. Well, obviously has a different unit of currency, seeing as he said cenz, not dollars. What I really mean is that the value of a cen would probably not be equal to the value of a dollar.

Dante digs through her old-lady-y purse in an old-lady-y way and hands him a handful of coins and paper bills. "That's nine-hundred, if my counting is right."

She didn't even count them, which strikes me as slightly suspicious, though Mason seems not to notice. Maybe he's gotten used to her strange behavior.

He quickly counts the money and nods, giving her a beaming smile and putting them into a box in a drawer. Rifling through a different drawer, he hands her two coins back along with the package. "Have a nice day, and thanks for your business!"

"Tell Izumi and Sig I said hello," Dante says as she turns to walk out the door.

Lyra sighs as she follows her out, clearly desperate to return back to the normalness that comes with buying four kilograms of pork, however much that is. Wait, it was two, not four, right?

After they leave, I sigh and slump forward in my chair, like a marionette with its strings cut. It's not even been half an hour and yet I'm exhausted. All I can do is look forward until eight. Only nine and a half more hours, I think. I've never been good with time.

Mason glances over at me out of the corner of his eye and grins, asking, "How were your first two customers?"

"Couldn't have asked for better," I say after shrugging. The truth is that I could probably ask for someone that I know, or at least recognize, from the show. It's kind of disorienting, expecting to meet people that I know and not. But I'm not going to tell him that.

"That's good," he says, "Either Sig or I will always be out here when there are customers so you can learn what to do. Unless we're readying the meat, of course," he adds as an afterthought.

"Yeah, I don't think I could do that yet," I agree, tipping my chair back so its front legs are off of the ground. "And I'm sure you want to keep me out here for my pretty face."

He rolls his eyes and raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that?"

I give him my best thousand-watt grin, dripping with brazenness. "Of course I am; do I look like a liar to you?"

Never mind the fact that I'm actually a liar. That's not important right now, or ever.

He looks like he's contemplating something with all of his being, or at least he pretends to. "Do you want the polite answer or the honest one?"

I fake glare at him and send my chair crashing back down. It jolts upwards again as one of the front legs hit the ground before the other. "Scratch that, I know the answer and I don't require you to say it."

Mason exhales deeply and leans on the counter, draping himself over it. "That's too bad."

"I guess so," I say without really thinking about it. By then, I'm not really giving him my full attention, which should be obvious.

The rest of the day passes pretty normally, given that I've been dragged into an anime from real life without any real explanation.

Another customer comes in about an hour later, and Mason takes his order while grinning like a chipmunk on crack cocaine. Don't ask how I know what a chipmunk on crack cocaine acts like, I heard Lorelei say that about a guy she knows with a name like Phoenix or something.

Girls and their weird expressions; how could she even connect a guy with a chipmunk on crack cocaine is beyond me.

Anyways, it turns out that we take two-hour shifts. For me, at least one other person has to be out because it's my first day, but Mason and Sig can work all by themselves like the big boys they are.

I am apparently not a big boy. I'm not sure whether to be offended by my subconscious or to thank it.

So, after my first two hours are up, Mason and I head back to the kitchen after Sig comes out.

"We usually switch between working in the kitchen and working in the shop, so no customer is ever alone," Mason says. "But since you're now here, I can prepare the meat while you charm the buyers with your stunning personality."

"Thanks," I say sarcastically. So much for my theory that big boys work all by themselves; does that mean I can be a big boy?

"But, when you're working in the back, you can be the errand-runner of sorts. You'll hear what the order is, and relay it to me, then take it to Sig in the front. It's really easy. You can do this until you're ready to work up front by yourself."

"How'll I know when to come out to the shop if I'm in the kitchen?" It is a totally reasonable question.

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens his mouth, and closes it. "Good point," he says after a pause, "you should probably go back out there to be safe."

"Safe?"

He smirks, and it turns into a full-fledged grin. "Being in the kitchen means you're closer to Izumi. I saw how terrified of her you were."

Guess I wasn't being as inconspicuous as I thought.

I nod vigorously and walk towards the doorway into the shop. "Yes, that is an extremely good point."

Sig doesn't even glance at me as I sit in the chair; his gaze remains focused on the door leading out into the street. Even though there's nobody else in the room, he doesn't bother to make conversation, which is fine with me. I'm perfectly happy flipping through the binder to learn more about my new job.

Of course, I have to find the binder first before I can read it. It's in a drawer, I know that much, but which one? I pick a random one and open it to find that it holds an open cash box, with a collection of coins of numerous sizes and different paper bills.

Sig glances at me, his eyes asking the question his mouth doesn't. I'm pretty sure it means, what the hell are you doing?

"Sorry," I say, quickly closing it, "I'm just looking for the binder that Mason showed me. It's in one of these drawers, but I don't know which one."

"Third drawer down, all the way on the left," he sighs, his gaze shifting back to the empty room.

I pull the drawer in question open to find that what I'm looking for is in it, so I say, "Thanks."

As I take the binder out, I find that there's a stack of books beneath it. They're all rather small – in both format and length – so it makes sense that there's more than one.

Oh well, I have to focus on my job first, not various books to peruse through. That can come later. If I remember it at all, since my memory's notoriously bad.

I read, gaining knowledge about all aspects of meat, even the ones I don't want to know, for about half an hour before a customer comes in.

"You again," Sig growls, glaring as them as they stroll in.

"Me?" The person does his best to look offended, putting his hand to his chest in mock horror. "What did I ever do to you?" Oh crap, I know him, but he's not the fifth person from the show I wanted to meet – Scar, Bull, Sig, Izumi, and he makes five. I can recognize his voice, but his way of dressing is the dead giveaway that it's Greed standing in front of me.

"You know perfectly well what you did, Greed."

The Homunculus gives an exaggerated sigh. "Can't you just get me my order in peace? Then I will be out of here before you can blink or complain about my existence."

You better, but that won't stop me from doing either of those things.

Sig sighs and rolls his eyes, turning to me. "I'll be the one to tell Mason, since I can't stand to be in this guy's presence any longer. Are you capable of making sure this vagrant doesn't steal all of our money?"

I nod, shoving my uncertainty into a dark corner in the recesses of my mind, and he goes back to the kitchen.

"You don't look familiar," Greed says, tilting his head to one side as he studies me intently. "Did you just start working here or something?"

"It's something like that." I don't bother to hide my annoyance about having to talk to him.

He grins at my obvious discomfort and says, "You aren't very talkative, are you?"

I shake my head, an answer to his question all by itself.

"Well, you're boring. What's your name, anyway? I'm Greed."

To reply or not to reply, that is the question. Tired of him watching me, I decide to do the first option. "Yeah, I heard Sig say that," I say in the driest voice I can muster, which is exceptionally dry, trust me. I've had a lot of practice with that, being friends with Jason and Lorelei. Though she's taught me everything I need to know about sarcasm, he gives us lots of opportunities to use our caustic wit. "I'm Damon. What's with the weird name?"

"I could say the same to you," he says, putting his hands on the counter. "Who names their kid Damon?"

"Who names their kid after one of the seven deadly sins? Let me guess, you want everything?" I know, I know, I'm pushing my luck here, but it's been so long that I've had the opportunity to act snarky that I can't resist.

Beneath his weird glasses, there's a ninety percent chance he's rolling his eyes. "Just be glad I'm not Gluttony, otherwise I'd eat you alive." He pauses and shakes his head violently. "Not in that way."

"Are you sure? You did imply that you wanted everything. And that does mean everything." I didn't remember how fun it was to act like this. It's a relief to be the insulter instead of the insulted.

Before Greed can reply, Sig comes out of the kitchen, carrying a package stuffed in a paper bag. More accurately, five paper bags. "That'll be three-thousand cenz," he says in a monotone as he puts everything down without bothering to weigh them. I guess he has a different approach to this than Mason.

Muttering under his breath about something like highway robbery, the Homunculus deposits a handful of bills onto the counter. "That should cover it."

Sig counts them dutifully and deposits them into the cashbox before nodding. "You can get out of my store now."

"Can I?" Nevertheless, he picks up all of the bags as if they weighed less than a feather. "Nice meeting you, Damon," he says as he walks out, grinning his shark-toothed grin. "I would say nice to see you too, Sig, but I don't lie."

"Does he come here a lot?" I ask after Greed has left. I don't want to deal with him any more than I have to.

"Maybe once or twice a week," Sig says, "and it's still too often."

I'm probably going to find myself agreeing with him. Hey, even though I liked Greed after he merged with Ling, it doesn't mean I have to like the first Greed. Or tolerate him at all.

Due to the shop having no customers, Sig standing like an inanimate rock, and the fact that I'm sick of reading about meat, I have time simply to think which characters I could get along with in the aforementioned anime that I was stupid enough to land in.

I've already – albeit briefly – met Scar. Needless to say, he and I won't be best buds anytime soon. I'll have to save up the friendship bracelets in my pocket for someone else.

Sig and Izumi terrify me, and rightfully so. It'll be a long time before I manage to get over my debilitating fear of them.

Never in a million years will I be friends with Bull. Or any Homunculi, or that mad bomber dude who Lorelei's obsessed with.

As for Mason, Dante, and Lyra, I'm still not sure about them, seeing as I have to get to know them like normal people normally would in a normal world. I know, gasp; the horror.

I could maybe be friends with Ling. Yeah, he's most likely my best bet.

And my rambling thoughts are interrupted when Mason appears in the doorway and says, "Hey Damon, do you want lunch or not? If you stay out here for much longer, you're going to miss it, and I don't think you want to do that."

I look up to Sig, who nods and motions for me to go, so I do. I have no real desire to stay out here inwardly debating who I could be friends with.

Crap.

I had forgotten about Izumi, but I'll have to learn to toughen up and deal with it. She's not even in the kitchen, but I can sense her presence, probably reading in her bedroom or whatever else Izumi Curtis does in her spare time other than beat up unsuspecting children.

"So, do you know what you want to eat?"

Is heck no an appropriate response? Have they even invented bread in the twentieth century? What if all people eat now are apples and meat? "Um, not really, do you have any suggestions? I'm not really sure if food from Central is similar to food here."

Mason shrugs and says, "There's always meat, seeing as we work at a store selling meat. But if you're a vegetarian – though I have no idea why you'd work at a meat store if you were one – there's fruit and sandwiches. Or you can go out into town and look for something there. It could come out of your paycheck."

"I guess I'll go out," I say hesitantly. "How much do you think I'll need? You know here better than I do." Really, the reason that made me want to go out was the fact that it'll put me farther away from the Curtis duo.

"I'd say a thousand cenz, just to be safe." He opens a drawer – it's disconcerting, the number of drawers in this house – and passes me a bunch of coins, which I stuff into my pocket. "Usually we have an hour break for lunch, albeit at different times, but I'll let you take up to two hours, since you're not used to Dublith. Make sure to be back in two hours."

I nod and ask, "Is there a specific way I should go out? I don't want to go out the shop door if that's not allowed or something." I'm not very keen on getting my head split open by an angry Izumi.

Mason shakes his head. "We won't beat you to a pulp because you make a mistake, you know. But no, there's no right way. You can do what you want."

If he can see how terrified I am of them, what will everyone else say?

"Um, thanks," I say, quickly making my way into the shop, nodding at Sig, and out the door and into the street.

It's thankfully empty, but that leaves me with nobody to surreptitiously follow. I look to the left and then to the right. Dang it, I'm going to have to make a decision sooner or later. I take out one of the coins – cenz, apparently – from my pocket and flip it in my hands. It lands on tails; left it is.

I shove the coin back into my pocket and wonder why the street is so empty. It's around lunch; shouldn't there be more people out?

I pass a grand total of one person on my way to wherever my feet are leading me. He's stalking down on the other side of the street, and I pause when I identify him. "Chimera," I find myself mouthing, despite my brain's futile attempts to hinder my words.

He stops walking immediately and strolls casually over to me. "Did you say something?" He asks like he's doing no more than asking about the weather.

Hell no is definitely not the right thing to say. Running down the street and back to the shop – Izumi and Sig are terrifying, but at least they're not chimera terrifying – is definitely not the right thing to do. That leaves me with –

"Cheery day," I blurt out without thinking, "that's what I said. Cheery day, isn't it?"

I don't recall his name, but he is – was – is, he's not dead yet – the dog chimera who works – worked – ugh – for Greed. He glances at me suspiciously, as if judging my fate. "Sure, I guess it is." With that, he brushes past me and continues on his way down the street.

I swear under my breath and keep walking while shaking my head like it could clear my mind. Pretty soon, I end up in front of a weird store thingy that's probably going to be the best I'm going to get if I keep going this way.

I'm about to open the door when I hear an old lady say in an old-lady-y voice, "Damon?"

If that's not Dante, I'm going to eat my nonexistent hat.

I turn around in the direction of the voice.

My nonexistent hat is safe – for now, at least.

"Oh, that is you!" Indeed, it's Dante who's walking towards me at the speed of – guess what – an old lady. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you. Their sandwiches are primeval." She smiles at me secretively and holds a finger up to her lips. "Why don't you come with me to my house and have lunch with Lyra and me?"

Isn't there something in my internal rulebook about not going to lunch with old ladies and their younger granddaughters? If so, then screw that rule. I don't want sandwiches that are like Gaston. Not that I really know what primeval means.

"Um, you wouldn't mind or anything? I wouldn't want to impose."

She rolls her eyes, which is surprisingly not an action that I associate with being an old lady. "Of course not, we'd love to have you!"

I find myself wondering if she has contacted Lyra about this decision.

Okay, I seriously need to stop it with all of this old lady stuff. It's not healthy to think about that every time I see an old lady. At least, I think it's unhealthy.

"If you insist," I say, shrugging and smiling back bashfully. "Though I have to be back at work in two hours; I don't want to be breaking rules on my first day on the job." And I certainly don't want a kitchen knife being chucked at my head either. Why I ever agreed to stay with Izumi is beyond me.

"Of course I'm insisting," Dante says, "what kind of person would I be if I didn't?"

That is how I ended up letting myself get dragged to her house, which is quite honestly more of a mansion than an actual house. As in, it looks like the Armstrong estate, minus the sparkles.

"Do I want to know why you've brought a random stranger to our house for lunch?" Lyra says, appearing out of virtually nowhere as soon as I walk past the front gate. "He's the third one in as many days."

I'd like to say I'm not surprised, but that would be a lie. "Where the heck did you come from?" It's probably best not to swear around the two people who will eventually offer me free food.

"Is now really the best time to talk about that?"

Dante claps her hands as if herding disobedient sheep and says, "I'm quite happy to eat all of the lunch I've prepared by myself, you know."

And I'll lose the lunch I've been given for free? "Nope, I'm content with talking after we eat," I say hurriedly.

"Yeah, eat first, talk later," Lyra immediately agrees, running ahead of us to open the door. "It's rude to deny a growing girl her food, right?"

"The only growing you're doing is growing wider!" Dante calls, shaking her head. "Teenagers," she hisses, but it's softened by a smirk. "Well, I guess that's the same for me too."

I hope she realizes she's talking to a teenager. Eighteen years old is still a teenager, right?

I follow the duo into the house and stop when I see that I've entered a huge foyer with gigantic awnings that make me feel like I'm a speck in the eyes of the universe. "Holy crap," I whisper, scared to break the silence enveloping the room. "This place is ginormous!"

Lyra rolls her eyes. "If you think this is big, wait until you see the dining room."

That's not ominous at all. Nevertheless, I trail after them until I see –

The biggest room that I have ever seen in my whole entire life, including my school gymnasium; and my school was obsessed with sports, so it had a colossal gym.

"This is incredible!" I say, practically Edward-Elric-on-one-of-his-short-rants-minus-the-actual-rage style. "You could fit my entire house in here; no, ten of them!"

"Do you want to eat or marvel at the size of the dining room for two hours?" Dante asks, her grin leaking through into her voice.

Despite my obvious longing to explore the house, food will always come before anything else. Except maybe my Xbox Live account, but I'm pretty sure Amestris doesn't have any connection. "I'm gonna have to go with eat," I say.

Lyra mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, "Boys."

If what Bull said is true and Jason's going to wind up here, I can't wait for them to meet. He's even more boy-like than I am. And that doesn't make any sense at all, but whatever.

Somehow, I wind up walking into the kitchen, all while following the two ladies who are still strangers. But I can see why they wouldn't want to eat in the more formal dining room, seeing as there's a table that could easily fit fifty people in there. If it only fit forty-nine, then being there with three people wouldn't be that bad, but fifty? That goes against every etiquette law imaginable.

So yeah, as soon as I enter the kitchen, I'm shoved into a chair at a small table and food is in front of my eyes before I can blink. "Wow," is all I can comment, glancing down at my plate in awe. I'm usually an observant person, but I have no idea who or what could have done that.

"Sorry," Lyra says, "I've been told my alchemy is rather disorienting to people who aren't used to it."

"You're an alchemist?"

She nods as she sits down across from me. "Wind is my specialty. Grandmother's better at it than I am, though."

Dante sighs as she picks up her fork, saying, "For the last time, Lyra, it's because I'm ancient. You'll be better than me someday." She waves her utensil at me and commands, "Eat."

I look down at my plate. It looks like the early twentieth century version of pasta, or, exactly the same as modern-day pasta. I decide it's better to fulfill her demand than to risk the wrath of two accomplished wind alchemists. It doesn't even taste that bad, so I can't complain about that. I'll have to find something else to fuel my inner monologue.

This seems to be the right thing to do. "So, how old are you?" I ask, and then blink. "That was directed at Lyra," I clarify hastily.

"Sixteen," Lyra says, twirling her fork in her hand. "And you?"

"Eighteen. Yeah, I know, I look older than I really am. Feel free to go into a catatonic state."

Lyra rolls her eyes, Dante groans in fake exasperation, and I'm done with my food before I even realize it. "I should probably get going now. Don't want to be late and all. I can show myself out; I am a fully grown boy – man – member of the male species – after all."

They nod in perfect synchronization, which is totally not creepy at all. "Make sure not to trip and ruin your manicure," Lyra calls out in a sing-song voice.

"That would be a tragedy," I reply, waving as I walk out of the room. "And thanks for the lunch! I owe you guys one." More than one, for saving me from eating those primeval sandwiches, but I don't say that.

I speed-walk through the empty dining room and back out into the foyer, where there's a clock hanging above the door. It reads half past two, which means I have half an hour to get back.

Perfect.

Hopefully, I won't run into any Homunculi or chimeras again. I doubt I'll have beginner's luck for a second time; or any at all, for that matter. I, Damon Pythias, am renowned throughout the world for possessing not a single shred of luck in my entire body. Must've pissed off a leprechaun in a past life or something; not that I believe in past lives, or leprechauns.

Maybe it's because of the one time I accidentally stepped on a four-leaf clover.

Or maybe I'm just being irrational and I need to focus on actually walking, instead of staring at the ground absent-mindedly.

Yes, walking to work is good, staring at the ground is bad. I'm practically ready to be a trainer.

"Sorry," I mutter after I bump into someone, who keeps going on their merry way as if I'm too small to see. Gosh, I'm turning into Ed now.

I do not want to end up as a microscopic pipsqueak.

This internal debate is getting boring, but thankfully I've reached the door to the shop. With a silent prayer to who-knows-who, I open the door and narrowly keep myself from ducking under imaginary knives being thrown at my head. I thank my self-control – inwardly – because I know how weird that would've looked out of context.

Great, it's my first day on the job and already having paranoid nightmares – um, day-mares, I guess – about my new boss.

Mason is leaning on the counter when I walk in, chatting amiably with a customer I don't know. He glances up at me trying to enter surreptitiously and grins, waving at me. "Hey, Damon, back fifteen minutes early! I would say that's a surprise, but that would be a lie."

So much for trying to sneak back unnoticed. "Yeah, being late isn't really my style."

"Sig told me that Izumi wanted to talk to you when you got back." He says it conversationally, pointing a hand in the direction that leads to the kitchen, as if he wasn't telling me that the most terrifying woman that I could ever come into contact with wants to converse with me. "You can go talk to her now. I can cover for you in here."

I nod, and he refocuses his attention on the customer, which leaves me no choice but to enter into the lion's den. Maybe if the lions had known that the way into their den was through a kitchen, they wouldn't have been so keen on eating poor, pathetic humans like me.

But lions are, well, lions. I can't claim to know what they think about, if they even think at all.

Who knows? If I survive this encounter, I'll have to ask the lion chimera guy.

Sig, who's chopping up what's presumably meat in the kitchen, gives me what I think might be a sympathetic look. Or maybe it was just an imperceptible nod and a blink. I can't tell with him.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling it, I peek into the dining room and visibly relax when none of the sharp instruments of death I had expected are aimed at my heart.

When I see that the dining room is empty, I manage to stutter, "Uh, Izumi?" This wasn't really what I was expecting when I pictured this scenario.

"In here," she calls, and I follow the voice into a bedroom which I'm assuming belongs to her and Sig. She's sitting on the bed with a book open on her lap, but she marks the page, closing it when she sees me come in. "Sit down," she says, gesturing to the chair next to her.

So far, she's not in a rage and threatening to skin me. This is better than I expected.

Still, that doesn't mean she won't fly into a rage and threaten to skin me. I sit down faster than I ever thought I could move. "You said you wanted to talk with me?"

Izumi nods and puts the book down next to her. "I was just wondering how it seems a tiny bit convenient, how you came to work for us and all."

Uh, what could she mean by that?

Oh hell, she knows. She knows that I'm from another dimension and got pulled in here by Bull for some sort of dastardly plot. Should I listen to what she has to say or spill everything now? That is the question.

"I know Mason's naturally a trusting person, and Sig tends to see the best in people, but I for one can't help but be slightly suspicious about your story. So tell me, what are your intentions of staying with us?" She looks guarded, but nowhere near as angry as I thought she would.

There must be something that I'm misunderstanding, so I ask, "Intentions?"

She shrugs; it's a loose motion that lets me know she's perfectly at ease. Rightfully so, seeing as she could beat the crap out of me; heck, she could do that without moving a muscle. "Are you planning to rob us?"

I blink disbelievingly and exclaim, "Rob you?"

"There has to be some reason why you let Sig drag you back here. Tell me the truth, and I can promise you that I won't call the police. You seem like a nice boy, if a bit misguided–"

That – that's it! Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "The Truth!"

Izumi stares at me. "What about the Truth?" Her voice has gone icy and has lowered until it's barely more than a whisper.

I feel everything inside of me freeze until I'm basically nothing more than skin surrounding a Popsicle. "I saw it."

"You performed human transmutation?" Now her voice is beginning to sound rage-filled.

"No," I say as I shake my head.

More than anything else, she looks confused. "Then how did you see it?"

Screw it. I'm gonna tell her everything, asylum or no asylum. Although I might get tossed into the loony bin for how crazy my explanation will sound. "Where I come from, science advanced instead of alchemy, which changed the world in more ways than one," I say slowly.

If I only had watched the other series, then I might be able to explain this better. Apparently it was more focused on the connection between the two worlds.

"Do you have movies in Amestris? Like, films made with motion-picture cameras?"

Izumi nods and says, "They're a pretty minor thing, but yes, they do exist. They're mostly for the rich and famous, though."

Thank goodness for Amestrian movies. "Okay, see, in my world, it's the twenty-first century instead of the twentieth century. This combined with the advanced science means that movies are a lot more advanced. Some are half-an-hour long, but they are released once a week. Does this make sense so far?"

"Yes," she says, "I guess so."

"One of these movie series, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood… It was about this world, mainly Edward and Alphonse Elric."

She asks, "Ed and Al? What did they do?" Her eyes are filled with some sort of demonic fire. Though I know it's not directed at me, I'm still terrified.

"I – I can't tell you that."

"You watched this series, right? Then you should know."

I gulp before saying, "I've never watched the ending. Wasn't able to and all. Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell you what happens. It could disrupt the entire sequence of events; since you and your husband are characters in the show, your whole fate could be changed entirely."

Izumi looks at me as if she's trying to decide whether or not I'm lying. "How do I know you're not delusional?"

I close my eyes and put my head in my hands. "You tried to bring your baby back using human transmutation. It failed, and you saw the Truth, losing some of your insides."

She sighs quietly. "And how did you end up here, if what you say is true?"

I shrug and say, "The Truth didn't bother telling me. I have no idea whatsoever. Really, all I want to do is go back home before anything else happens to me."

"I just have one more question I have to ask you. What did the Truth look like to you?"

"A white blob-thing that vaguely resembled a person, but with no features; it was in this fully white void. Is that what you wanted to know?"

She inclines her head slightly and leans back in her bed. "Yes, that is all. You can go back to work now." As I get up and turn towards the door, she says, "And Damon?"

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone else about how you ended up here."

I nod and walk out. Whatever this conversation was, it was certainly not what I was expecting.

Author's Notes

Honestly, I never imagined that I'd get this far, as in uploading this chapter, not writing the first chapter. Though I did write the first five chapters out of order, like mega out of order, as in I wrote Chapter Three, then Five, Two, One, and Four, mostly because I felt like it.

I have to thank all of you who give this a shot, even if it's just the first chapter.

I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood or anything affiliated with these series. Seeing as my chances of discovering a genie in a lamp are slim-to-none, this will serve for my whole story.

And now onto the more technical part of the Author's Note, where I try to explain details about the story that might not make sense or that I feel need explanation.

Titles: The Art of Breaking is both a song and an album by the band Thousand Foot Krutch, and so is The Invitation. The same goes for Set It Off; the lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from it.

Setting: For the most part, this story takes place in Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, though it will have elements that are strictly from the manga or the first anime. Characters – either from the manga, anime, or both – that aren't in Brotherhood will make an appearance, though not in the same way their original role did.

Damon's Power: As long as a non-living object is in the air, Damon can control it. The greater the size of the object, the less power he has over it.

Mason: Mason is the assistant at Curtis Meats in both the manga and the original anime. It's assumed that he knows about Izumi's attempt at human transmutation. His role is almost fully cut out in Brotherhood; aside from a single scene where he tells Izumi that the Elrics were seen entering the Devil's Nest.

Curtis Meats: The design for the inside of the shop comes from the original anime. The outside design comes from Brotherhood.

Dante: Dante is an anime-exclusive character who basically is a walking spoiler. For this story, she's a simple old lady in Dublith who is a wind alchemist. Her last name, Alighieri, references the poet in the middle ages, Dante Alighieri. In the story, her house isn't based on anything in particular from the anime.

Lyra: Again, Lyra is only in the original anime. For this story, she's Dante's sixteen-year-old granddaughter who aspires to be a State Alchemist.

Measurement: I'm assuming Amestris uses the Metric System for measurement. In regards to currency, they use cenz. One cen is worth about as much as a penny.

Movies: On Earth, the first motion picture cameras were invented in the 1890s. Alchemy did surpass the sciences in Amestris, but it can be assumed that the early forms of movies existed in Amestris, even if they were just a prototype.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it. If you want to, stick around for the next chapter. Review if you feel led to. Ask questions if you want to and I'll do my best to answer them as soon as I can unless they involve spoilers.

With that, I bid you dear readers, adieu.