"Just make sure you come back alright, okay Ed?"

"I'm sure I've seen worse, don't worry about me, Winry."

"Promise me then."

"Huh?"

"Promise me you won't do something stupid, okay? Don't get yourself hurt. Promise me."

"I promise."

He promised.

He had promised her and he had failed. He wasn't going to come back. He knew it. The basic function of sight was already leaving him, fading and blurring away into the dark. It was dark, so terribly dark. And cold, too. Edward was vaguely aware of something else around him, presences of other living things, and an aura of alchemic taboo so strong it made his very soul tremble.

The act of remaining conscious was becoming a struggle, a seemingly immense inner battlefield that stretched out too unbearably long... but if he let sleep take him, would he ever wake up? The reek of rotten blood clogged his lungs and made it hard to breathe. His insides were churning, head pounding, emptied automail ports constantly pulsing with painful electric spasms as the disconnected synthetic nerves groped in vain for the mechanical system that had once recieved their commands.

Much to Edward's horror, the sweet release of death was becoming something he craved, the longer he remained chained against the cold stone wall, abandoned and alone save for the terribly suffering and dying chimera that shared his prison.

Why did it have to end up this way? Despite himself, he actually felt like laughing. It felt so ironic. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, nor where he had been going before having been brought to this hellish place.

But he remembered Winry, and he remembered Alphonse. He remembered how he loved them both so very, very much, and for all of his love the both of them seemed to return tenfold. He remember that he wanted so see them again, and that he missed them sorely. That was something he could remember, and draw strength from, the knowledge that they'd be waiting for him.

Even so, force of will can never completely ebb away the exaustions of the body, so Edward found himself simply lying there, waiting to be horribly distorted and butchered like every other poor entity to have set foot in this place, this sickly experimental place.

Force of will, however, was just enough for Edward to peel his eyes open and look around, likely one of the last times he'd ever see anything, ever. The place was lit by overly bright fluorescent bulbs from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across everything touched by the sharp glow. It made his eyes sting somewhat, but he still looked on, at the disgustingly clean desks on one side, the sickeningly dirty experimentation area, stained with the dark dried blood and other bodily fluids of this nightmare's victims in contrast.

Then there was a small noise to his left, and Edward whipped his head around to face who or whatever was there with him. He stood to be mildly surprised to see a girl, restrained as he was and huddled desperately in the corner. She was shivering and crying, her clothes were torn and bloodied and her long, dark hair hung in unkepmt chunks from her loosened ponytail. Her olive skin seemed pallor in the terribly artificial lights that pulsed above them.

Inhuman shrieks and screams of pain could be heard from a separate room, only to abruptly stop, sending shudders of horror crawling down Edward's spine. He stiffened, eyes widening as someone entered the room. Several people, whose darkened faces his brain refused to register.

They said things, too. He couldn't hear them over his own screaming as they seized him by his remaining arm and leg, even as he kicked and scratched and struggled with everything he had, something dark and primal inside him screaming about the wrongness of it all, that they couldn't touch him, that they were going to kill him.

And in favor of this dark part of his consciousness, he didn't doubt it's desperate fight-or-flight alarm one bit. With his limbs restrained he did the first thing his instincts demanded and closed his jaws on one of the experimenter's arms. Hot, metallic blood filled his mouth, foreign and sickening as he gagged and kicked, trying to crawl away before they could recover and pick him up again.

Edward had barely made a single body-length away from these cruel people before they picked him up again and resumed as they were.

They were going to kill him, slowly and horribly. He was going to die.

He had failed.

A/N: trying this again, but with something new. I'm trying to retain the fact that Edward is supposed to be the protagonist rather than "omg wtf is that."