I own nothing of the copyrights to FMA or Buffy the Vampire Slayer
This place in the desert was once a nice village. Man came and faced the cruel terrain and environment. For their struggles they created, if not a paradise, at least a place to live. Here men worked, prayed, and spoke to each other. Their wives cooked, cleaned and gossiped, and their children played and learned. But the sun of today showed only a ruin. Its life had been robbed, its security replaced with fear. Not by the forces of nature, but by the forces of man. War had come to this place, and left its unyielding mark. And this was just the beginning.
Such a cruel thing, but that is reality. Despite its advancements in culture, science and technology, man still kills man. Reality is very strange, and equally strange is what occurred during today. For in this empty town, sharing only a moment's peace, witnessed reality ripping! This 'rip' happened not on a wall or a ground, but in an open area. When the rift opened, it portrayed a greater territory vaster than this town. And out from this foreign territory came out an adolescent girl. Like the tear, this girl's landing was just as unstable, as she hit the ground flat. The tear repaired itself as if it never existed, but its traveler remained very still; she was uninjured, but still sore and very tired.
The girl attempted to think in her exhausted state. As the fatigue on her mind lessened, she materialized rue for her ignorance. Willow did warn her about teleportation taking a lot out of people. Interdimensional-teleportation would take more. But the girl believed she was ready for it. She was a Slayer, after all. Actions spoke better than words, though. Darn it.
The rue was momentary. The girl enjoyed her rest. She deserved it. The worst was over. After a few months, she had finally returned home! To her native dimension! A dimension that did not have the United States of America, but the nation of Amestris! Where no creepy Sunnydale existed, but wonderful Central City! No more First, no more vampires! No more television, movies, CDs, planes…okay, what was so good about home?
The answer is her family. Not people who resembled her family, but her real family. Soon she will be reunited with her mother, and her uncles and aunts. This is where they lived. This is where her father is buried. Yep, yep, she was back. Oh so lovely home ground! She proceeded to kiss the ground…and sand. After some spittle, the girl lifted her head to her surroundings. Discovery popped realization as she uneasily arose. She was in some desert! That witch took her to the wrong place!
It figures! Such was the plight of this girl. Her name is Elysia Hughes. Born in the year 1911. Fourteen years going on fifteen (or going on fifty, considering her recent activities). Slayer since the year 2002. Reading that account, anyone would think that weird. Elysia had to take such madness. She was no stranger to it. Her uncle can project fire from his bare hands. A suit of armor played midwife at her birth. Add to that the happenings at Sunnydale a month ago (or is that ninety years later?), and she had no choice but to accept the unusual.
Did this make her strange? Well, Elysia did stand almost six feet tall, a rather big size for man or woman. She had a roundish figure, not fat or thin. She had a strong jaw that could belong to a man, but soft cheeks, nice nose, and brown pig-tailed hair that belonged to her gender. Her green eyes, when angered, carried a serious resolve, but they could be very kind. And her beautiful smile revealed nothing of the stress and experiences that marked her little absence. People said she inherited her smile from her late father.
Oh well! She had little need for serious things right now! As far as Elysia knew, there had been no demon activity back home. Not since Uncle Roy took care of that evil Fuhrer. It was still hard to believe that guy was a demon! But then, there was a lot of stuff she didn't know until recently; like the Homunculus that killed her father…
But that was a long time ago. She can forget what happened to her. That meant double on her duties. No more vampires, Firsts, and no homunculus. Clear-sailing from now on!
There came a roar in the sky. Not thunder as the bright sky showed. With alarm, Elysia quickly ran for cover against this falling shell. The roar exploded, creating a scattering of dirt and flame. More projectiles came, getting closer. Time to hide! That ruined building looked okay. Quickly she darted into the protective sanctuary. The backpack on her shoulders hardly hindered her speed to safety. Her steps led to a dead body. At first her mind alarmed her to thinking its cause was demonic, but that would be whitewashing the truth. Her ears pulsed by noises over the horizon. She knew what was going on. A battle!
That shock was disbelieving. There weren't any more wars in her world, Elysia thought to herself. Did one start while she was gone? A weight came to her heart. War was a scary thing for her. Especially hard since her extended family consisted of soldiers. And she was now a soldier, or something similar. At any rate, she didn't want to lose any more of her family.
Another loud noise increased in her ears. Elysia had to go deeper for cover. She came to the small window at her feet. With a kick, she shattered the glass and moved through it. The force and speed of her escape unfortunately freed the back pack free from her, leaving it outside in the open. No time to react, for Elysia's entry dropped her to the floor of a basement. Falling flat allowed her to spot the window above. Debris blew from the opening like steam. That told her enough on what happened to the bag. Elysia lowered over her loss. She had gifts in that bag; gifts from that other world. Like a holster for Aunt Riza. A book of Quotations for Uncle Heymans. A history of Playboy Magazine for Uncle Jean. All that and more gone. In desperation Elysia clasped the lump in her boot. Her wallet remained safely inside it. That proved relaxing. The pictures contained remained. One of these days, photographs will be all she had.
Returning to the present, Elysia looked to her surroundings. She was in some basement, with a stairway. She had a very good reason not to use it right now. For a few minutes the bombings continued. Sounds roared, ground shook, ceiling pieces fell. Elysia leaned against the corner. Oh, she was scared, despite all she had been through. Uncle Roy once chided her for her curiosity to dangers. "At this rate, you won't live to be fifteen." He often said that warning, to which she usually ignored him. And then came that one day where her curiosity threw her out of her home world. Elysia regained her guilt for disobeying her uncle. She missed him so much. As much as she missed her dad.
Lesser noise filled her ears. Elysia safely looked through the window. The wrecked area showed life. Figures approached. Soldiers. They were draped in white coats with hoods, but their blue pants were Amestris. The girl calmed to such familiar clothes. But these men hardly looked familiar with their wild human faces. Getting their attention did not look like a good idea. She wasn't dressed for the occasion, a perfect target. They had guns. All she had was a dagger given to her by Dawn Summers. All she could do now was resume hiding and keep quiet.
For help, Elysia used the light reflecting from the window for a safe watch. Its dimming showed the soldiers' shadow. A rifle stuck out of the window. Like a serpent it wavered here and there, ready to strike. It unnerved Elysia, not just by her distaste for firearms (even though her favorite Aunt was an excellent marksman). But the rifle returned, its soldier having departed. Relief.
But the door above her slammed open. In came a soldier, covered from head to toe, brandishing his rifle without quarter. And he saw her.
Getting her was a different thing. Elysia ran to the area under the stairs. The soldier leapt off the stairs, ready to follow. But his descent gave Elysia all she needed. Using the darkness, her strong kick stripped the rifle from his owner. One foot down, she threw the other and stripped the officer of his standing. But the fallen soldier dug into his coat. A flash showed the metal push-knife quickly unsheathed and thrown.
Elysia caught it with a clap of hands; a defense that still stunned her. It awed her assailant as well, but just for a moment. He had another push-knife, and held onto this one, swinging it at her in every direction to kill. Directions Elysia quickly blocked. Save one. Her shirt became the only casualty. That could be trivial to some. Not her. This shirt was brand new from the other world. Where the hell was she going to get another around here? Suddenly a limit was hit; woe to her adversary! Elysia grabbed a pillar, lifting herself around it for a full swing-boot kick at her assailant. Such acrobatics made an impact on the soldier. He hit the wall. His knife fell, with him too.
Elysia strode to her defeated opponent. "You did this to yourself, buster," She pulled off the man's hood and scarf, unmasking his full face. "Now I'm…"
Words, duties, actions. Elysia's superior stature. They all stopped when her eyes saw the man's face. She studied it quickly and slowly. That heavy brow, the slender face, the glasses, the jaw. All her reaction came to one whispered reply: "Daddy?"
The reader will find this moment interrupted by a change in location. Far away from this town was another area, equally swept by war. Only its casualties increased without a single combat. This happened in a room known only by a token few. The floor had a transmutation circle, used for a constant ritual. Captives would line the circle. The captors gave no exclusive choice to its victims. Youth. Gender. No matter. The ritual would end with all of them gone. In their place a Stone was created.
For right now, the room was empty. For a while, its violent but stainless environment found peace. And yet this place too also suffered a rip in reality. A great black Gate appeared and opened. Out from its black domain fell out a figure. The Gate vanished, abandoning its guest on the floor in an embryonic state. His form looked human, but this was not truly so. He is a stranger of humanity. A stranger to this world, a stranger to pragmatic reality, a stranger to the laws of Alchemy, known and unknown. He is, in truth, a monster.
But once he was a man. A man named Maes Hughes.
In a different language that does not exist in this world, he would be known as Nosferatu.
To be continued.