Don't expect any sort of regular update schedule for this thing. Also, I'm thinking I just may have to change the rating here to 'M,' because... this is really starting to get out of hand. Seriously, name a swear word. I guarantee it will be used here before this thing is over.


"So what's the deal with the big board?"

Ed and Al stared pensively at the enormous bulletin board that Mustang and Hughes had nailed to the wall earlier.

"It was Bradley's idea," said Hughes. "Supposedly it will revolutionize communication within the military."

Ed cocked his head to the side. "How?"

"Let me show you." Hughes took a strip of yellow paper from the pile of Post-Its next to the board and wrote on it with the pen that was chained to the wood. He then slapped the paper up near the top of the board, the adhesive on the back making it stick. "You see, I write my message on this paper and then 'post,' if you will, on the 'board.' Go on, read it."

Al leaned forward and read the message that Hughes had written.

- Hey you guys! I am making a post on the board. This is my post that you are reading right now this very second!-

Alphonse laughed, briefly. "Neat! How do I respond, Mr. Hughes?"

Hughes took another paper and handed it to Alphonse. "Just write your message and post it underneath mine, thereby creating a 'thread' of posts."

"Hm." Alphonse thought briefly. "I want to leave a message that will communicate that fact that I found your message slightly humorous and was inspired to laughter."

"Well," Ed suggested, "You could write, 'hey Mr. Hughes, that was funny. I laughed.'"

Hughes shrugged. "Eh. I think it's probably best to keep it short. Maybe just 'I laughed out loud.'"

Alphonse shook his armoured head. "No, I think something even shorter than that. Like a short form for laughter."

"Is there even a short form for laughter?" Ed asked. "I mean, how short can you really get?"

"Let's see…" Al mused, "I laughed… I laughed out loud… I know! I 'lol'd!'"

"Al, that's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"Well, you're short so your opinion doesn't matter. Mr. Hughes?"

"I like it!"

"Then I will make the post!" Quickly, Alphonse scrawled the letters 'lol' on the paper and stuck it just beneath Hughes' message. "Done!"

"Let's go play air hockey!" Hughes said.

"Okay!"

As Alphonse and Hughes ran off to the Fuhrer's office, Ed couldn't help but stare up at the 'lol' that Al had posted. For some reason, deep in his gut, he couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible had just begun.


Mustang stepped into his office, and then immediately stepped out of it.

"Hawkeye," he ordered, "When is my birthday?"

Lieutenant Hawkeye sighed and glanced at the calendar at her desk. "It isn't for another three months, sir."

Mustang nodded. "As I thought. Then can somebody please tell me why there is a prostitute in my office?"

Hawkeye gave a sigh of exasperation. "Sir, please be serious and get some work done for a change."

"No, really! Go look!"

Hawkeye sighed again, through clenched teeth. She got up out of her chair, walked briskly over to Mustang's office door, and opened it.

There was a dark-haired woman dressed in a revealing black dress sitting on his desk. "Hello," she said. "I'm here to-"

Hawkeye slammed the door and double-checked the calendar. Not only was Mustang's birthday not for another three months, but there were no holidays on the immediate horizon or in the recent past. She simply couldn't think of a reason for the whore to be there.

"Maybe it's a thank-you whore," Havoc supplied helpfully. "Have you done anything thanks-worthy in the past week or so?"

"Was there a message written on her tits?" Breda asked. "That could be an important clue."

Mustang opened the door again.

"Why if it isn't the Flame Alchemist," the whore said. "If you don't mind, I- hey. Let go of those. Wait, I need to-"

He closed the door behind him. "Nope. Nothing."

Fuery raised his hand. "What, if anything, is she wearing? A theme outfit might help us out here."

"That's right," Falman said. "It could be holiday related. If she's got on a slutty Santa outfit, or a slutty bunny outfit, or a slutty leprechaun outfit, or a slutty witch outfit, or a slutty Martin Luther King outfit-"

Mustang peeked inside his office.

"Look, can you just listen for thirty sec-"

"I suppose it could be a slutty witch," he said, "at a stretch."

"Just face it colonel," Havoc shrugged, "There is no plausible reason for that prostitute to be in your office."

The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed. "And I am a high-ranking government official. This is extremely suspicious. I have my enemies- this could be an assassination attempt. That whore could be rigged with explosives. Hawkeye, call the Fuhrer."

"Yes, sir." She picked up the phone and dialled the Fuhrer's office extension. His secretary picked up.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

"This is Lieutenant Hawkeye, speaking on behalf of Colonel Mustang. A very suspicious prostitute was left inside Colonel Mustang's office this morning, and we strongly suspect that it's been rigged to explode. Could you send someone down to investigate as soon as possible?"

"Certainly."

Hawkeye hung up the phone. A few seconds later, there was a knock at the window.

Riza lifted up the sash, and the Fuhrer climbed inside, followed by Zolf J. Kimblee. She looked outside. It was three stories to the ground.

"Hello Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye, assorted filler characters. I was hanging outside the window and I couldn't help but overhear that you had a possible bomb threat in your office. I thought I'd offer my assistance, along with that of the resident explosives expert, Mr. Kimblee."

"But wait," said Mustang. "Kimblee is an expert at making things blow up. What we want to do here is make sure that the whore doesn't blow up."

Kimblee laughed. "Think about this logically for a minute, Roy. That hooker is going to explode sooner or later. It's simply a matter of time. So, that being the case, the best thing that we can do is to explode it under controlled circumstances, inside your office. That way, everything remains under our control."

"That is the most sense that anybody has ever made ever." Breda was clearly awed.

"Oh, one more thing," the Crimson Alchemist said, "Before I go in there to detonate that whore, you want to make sure you can get an appointment with these guys beforehand. It is vitally important, trust me." He handed Hawkeye a business card, and she looked down at it. It was for a carpet-cleaning company.

"Now let's not be too hasty," the Fuhrer cautioned, hand closing around the door handle. "First we need to make sure we're not going to be wasting a perfectly good hooker by mistake. Let's take a look just to make sure."

He eased the door open, and everybody looked inside with baited breath.

Lust was tapping her foot on the floor impatiently. "Are you boys quite finished with your little games?" she said. "I need some answers from Mr. Flame over there."

"False alarm, everybody," the Fuhrer waved. "It's only Tits."

"I'll say," said Kimblee.

He laughed politely. "Don't worry, it was me that hired her. I believe that her special talents could be of use to us."

"I'll say," said Kimblee.

"Now, now. Tits is extraordinarily gifted, you know."

"I'll say," said Kimblee.

There was a sudden flash, and a slithery liquid noise from behind them, as if a bottle of light was being poured onto the floor. Everybody turned to see that Second Lieutenant Breda had been transformed into a transvestite.

"Hi," Envy smiled. "I think I'd better explain."

"I think you'd better," Mustang replied.

"Lust and I were placed undercover in Mustang's office so that we could try and root out exactly who has been stealing office supplies. She attempted to infiltrate using the disguise of a prostitute sent to Colonel Mustang, while I masqueraded as Heymans Breda."

"But if you were only pretending to be Breda, then where is the real Breda?" asked Hawkeye.

"I gave him the day off," the Fuhrer said.


The soldiers chasing him never thought to look up. Scar stayed perfectly silent, observing from his perch high in the tree branches until his pursuers ran off, seeking the wanted serial killer elsewhere.

With predatory grace, he leapt to the ground, barely making a sound as he landed. He had fled into Central Park to evade his attackers, and he now retraced his steps out of the lush greenery that stood out so much against the industrial backdrop of the city.

It was as he passed the children's playground that he noticed something odd- a flash of blue peeking out from the sand. He had run by too quickly to notice it the first time through, and likely would have kept on walking had that blue not been so familiar.

It was the blue of a military uniform.

Scar strode over and brushed the sand off of it, revealing more and more cloth and, eventually, a human hand. Somebody had haphazardly buried a murdered soldier between the swing set and the jungle gym.

Scar double checked to make sure nobody was looking, and then swiped the dead man's watch from his hand. He left the park, and the lifeless arm jutting out of the playground sand, and disappeared into the maze of buildings that was Central city.

The dead soldier's arm would stay there, reaching uselessly toward the sky, until Elysia Hughes was permanently traumatized by it three days later.


"Anyways, enough about Breda," Envy hissed, "And on to the real issue. This theft of office supplies is only getting worse. Why, in the past five minutes, the coffee mug on Mustang's desk has been lifted."

"The one that says 'total flamer?'" Havoc said. "Aw, I gave that to the Colonel for his birthday!"

"Nobody is free of suspicion," Lust said sinuously. "At least not until I've asked them a few questions. Starting with the Flame Alchemist."

"Mustang faced her calmly, although there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

"Have you been stealing shit?" Lust asked.

"No."

"Do you know who has been stealing shit?"

"No."

"Damn. We're fresh out of leads. Envy, Gluttony, let's go. We're done here."

Lust swept out of the room, followed by the green-haired Envy and the magnificently gargantuan fatass Gluttony who had been standing in the corner of the room facing the wall, dressed in what appeared to be three military uniforms duct taped together. Nobody had really noticed him until now, despite the fact that he occupied at least a quarter of the room.

"Bye, Tits."


"Al, did you post this?"

"Yes, brother, I did. Why? What's the matter with it?"

Ed was looking at the enormous bulletin board again, already filled with posts. He was pointing at a particular photograph of a kitten that was missing a leg. The caption underneath the photograph read, in block capitals, I CAN HAS FILOSOFERS STON?

"What's the matter with it? It's idiotic, that's the matter with it. What's the deal with the messed up spelling, anyways?"

"I think it's funny," Al said. "Look, other people like it."

There were numerous posts underneath the picture Al had put up, which Edward supposed constituted a thread.

- lol-

- omg, wtf? dis is hilariouos.-

- HAHAHA LOL!!!!1!!11 I LUV CATS THIS IS TEH FUNNYEST THING EVAR FAV +1-

- u r a fag-

- haha omg no ur a fag for callin him a fag becuz only fags call ppl fags u fag so u r therfore a huge faggit who sux cock all day n likes cocks up ur a$$-

- i came-

- its spelled 'philosofers,' u idiot-

- lol epic fail-

- nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger-

- pools closed motherfucker-

The last post was a picture of breasts. The face of the girl was blurred out, but as Ed looked at it, something unsettled him.

"Wait a minute… look at this house in the background of this picture… I recognize this house… this is…"

It had been Ed and Al's old home in Resembool, before they had burned it down. He was sure of it. What's more, the more that he looked at the picture, the more he thought he could recognize the blurry hairstyle that the woman in it had- it was a short plait that fell over her shoulder. He had only ever seen one person with that hairstyle, and that had been-

He crumpled up the paper, threw it to the floor and crushed it underneath his automail leg. Then he clapped his hands and burned it.

"Let's go Al."

"But why, Brother? I wanted to post some more!"

"…I want a drink from the vending machine. Come with me for a second."

"Okay, but hang on. I want to say that I made the original post, but not in so many words… hm… I'm the original poster… Oh! I got it!" Al scribbled something onto the paper and posted it. It read:

- OP here. Lol, thanx guys-

And then he turned and followed Ed down the hallway.

The Fullmetal Alchemist was standing in front of a Transmut-Ade™ machine, clinking his loose change in his hand.

He turned directly to face you, the reader. "Hey. I'm Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. When my alchemic energy is depleted after a long day of transmutation, I recharge with Transmut-Ade™- the official alchemy drink of the philosopher's stone."

"What was that about, brother?"

"What was what about? Nevermind, which flavour should I get?" His finger hovered over the buttons on the side of the machine. "There's Homunculus Orange, Transmutation Circle Blue, Human Sacrifice Red, and Grape."

"Gee, brother, I don't know," Al said innocently. "I've lost all concept of taste while my soul has been trapped in this inanimate prison. I can't feel anything, Brother, except for the biting cold of the metal. I'm cold all the time, and it hurts. I can barely stand to live, but only because I cannot die. My soul longs for the oblivion of death, but the universe has seen fit to play a cosmic joke on me and doom me to an eternity in this frigid shell of a body, barely able to consider myself a human being- unable to eat, unable to breathe, unable to sleep, I carry on in an endless-"

"I'm gonna get grape flavour!" said Ed.

"… sounds delicious, Brother." Al tried to weep but found that he could not.

Edward happily slid a twenty-five-sen coin into the machine, pressed the button, and stepped back in anticipation of imminent refreshment. The machine clunked ponderously, something ground inside of it, and there was a noise like a car backfiring.

He continued to stand there. The vending machine had not made any noise, nor dispensed any drinks, for the past ten minutes. "Where's my drink?" he asked.

"Brother, I think it might be broken."

Ed's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't understand. I put my money in. I pressed the button. But my drink was not dispensed."

"Maybe it's out of order?"

Ed clapped his hands and slapped them against the machine. There was a flash of blue light, and the insides of the device sprang to life momentarily. A whirring noise came from inside it, and then a series of very loud clunks. There was a hissing sound, and then smoke started coming out of the back of the thing.

"No. no, no, no, DAMMIT! It wasn't supposed to be this way!" Ed cried in despair, his eyes clenched shut. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this! It was perfect! It should have worked! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO WORK!"

Al prodded him in the shoulder. "Um… Brother? Are you okay?"

Ed clapped again and tried to alchemy the machine into working. It didn't work. "I don't understand. I paid the price, Al! So why isn't it working!? This goes directly against everything I've ever been taught… equivalent exchange… was it all a lie?"

Ed screamed in despair. "Damn it! I PAID THE PRICE! I WANT MY TRANSMUT-ADE™! Equivalent exchange- this is ignoring all the principles of the universe's fundamental law. And it's up to us to make it right."

"W-what are you going to do, Brother?"

"Al," Ed said dramatically, "Make sure nobody's looking!"

And with that he jammed his automail arm into the little slot that the drinks came out of and reached up into the vending machine. He felt around for the bottle of grape-flavoured alchemy drink, until he remembered that his arm was made of metal and had no feeling.

"Damn," he said, "I don't know if I have it or not." He flexed his artificial fingers and felt pressure, meaning that he had at least got hold of something. "Okay, I think I have the drink. Keep watching, Al, I'm going to try and pull it out."

He put both of his feet against the machine and pulled with all of his might. It was at that point that several things happened at once.

Something gave deep inside the bowels of the vending machine, and Ed withdrew both his arm and the bottle of Grape Transmut-Ade™ that was clenched in his metal hand. At the same time a loud siren sounded from inside the machine, and something blew up, spraying a bright purple dye all over Edward.

"Uh-oh," he said, his voice drowned out by the shrieking of the siren.

There was the sound of many clattering footsteps, and suddenly everybody was standing in the hallway, forming a ring around Alphonse and Edward.

"What's going on?" Hughes shouted.

"Somebody killed the Transmut-Ade™ machine! Oh my God, it's bleeding purple blood everywhere!" Winry looked away in horror.

"It's screaming in pain," Scar said, referring to the siren. "It must be put out of its misery. Can't you see it wants to die?" He stepped forward and laid his tattooed arm over the machine. He whispered a short prayer, and the vending machine exploded violently, showering the crowded hallway with a refreshing rain of various flavours of alchemy drink, as well as flaming wreckage.

"Who could have committed such an atrocity?" Armstrong was distraught.

"Look!" Envy pointed. "It's the Fullmetal pipsqueak! And look what he's holding in his hand!"

Ed looked down at his right hand, which was still clutching the bottle of Transmut-Ade™ that he had wrenched from the vending machine, mortally wounding it in the process.

Everybody gasped.

"So it was Fullmetal all along!" Roy nodded like he had known it the whole time.

"I never would have guessed." Doctor Marcoh shook his head in disappointment.

The Fuhrer stepped forward out of the mob, frowning down at Edward. "So," he said, "It seems like we've found our thief."


Holy Christ, I'm immature. I could be writing actual things and making money, and yet I choose to waste an hour and a half writing about hookers blowing up. Got a serious case of the giggles while I was doing it, too, which probably says something about my mental state. Something bad.

So it seems to me that the new TV show is really quicktiming it through the bits of story that the first series covered. The whole mom-died to the becoming-a-state-alchemist thing was covered in one episode, and the old TV show managed to stretch it out to like five or six.

Anyways, when I say everybody, I mean everybody. In that last scene, every single character that has ever appeared in the cartoon or the comic is present.