-Meanwhile, in Berlin-

Grey clouds loomed above his window with great displeasure. They loomed through the long window making it easy for the world to look up upon his "Excellency". It was easier to see the man still with his desk up against the window. But his back always faced the glass, as if it was a sign of hatred to the world, a sign that he didn't really care for the inhabitants of Germany's great land.

The walls were nothing like the stone brick they were made from but screens that covered the whole of the walls. On the screens held the distinct image of the world map but on Germany's land were tiny yellow dots, which were each, representing a single person walking on Germany in reality. Some would etch forward with great distance but never had they stepped over the boundary of their country. It pleased him to know that his people could all be kept in one place with such obedience. This way none of them could leave the country and report him to the police outside for his continuation of the killing of Jews in Germany.

The main reason he did it though was because he thought it was right and also with the power that was vested in him he also HAD the right to do it. He was the Fuhrer of Germany and so had power enough to take a person's life and it not be illegal. The main killings though weren't just on Jews, but also anyone who dared to defy his law and order like parasites, taking jobs that rightly belonged to the Aryan race so that all his people lived in poverty, while the Jews lived in abundant wealth. In short, he thought Hitler had the right ideas.

The name of this powerful Fuhrer? Well, some would laugh at the name if they knew what it meant, but those who laughed would later find their heads bouncing on the floor of the very office. His name was Morsch Erde. In the German language you would find that the name meant, very appropriately, Rotten Earth and so those who laughed did so because they knew how much the name suited his cruel heart. His hair was black like the rotting flesh of those he had killed in the past and his eyes were a piercing blue like the waters of the world his name so suggested. His moustache also seemed to resemble a broom that swept away all the lives of the Jews. His plump figure showed that he had grown very wealthy on the luxury of killing those that stood in his way though it didn't necessarily mean that he actually ate the human flesh, for that, the world WOULD dare revolt against his cruel, to say the very least, behaviour.

The great oak door at the end of the office room opened to find the skinny figure of a trusted subordinate. He walked across the room with fear and nervousness in every step. Though he was trusted by the Fuhrer, the subordinate did not trust the Fuhrer to keep him alive and so feared every day that Morsch might unexpectedly take his life.

'How are my trackers working?' Morsch asked with startling leadership.

'Beautifully, sir.' He answered with false courage. 'They're all in and the trackers are being installed by doctors into babies and children everyday.'

'Excellent.' Morsch smiled wickedly. 'My plans for Germany are in motion. Now no one can leave the country without me knowing. With my world map and the trackers sending signals of their where-a-bouts I can keep one step ahead of everyone.' Everything was going his way, or so he thought.

A beeping noise from the screen map on the wall could be heard. The subordinate rushed to investigate the noise. A yellow dot had escaped the German boundary and was floating over France on a long white stick.

'Fuhrer! One of your people has escaped!' He shouted in panic.

'Why are those contraptions still running?' The Fuhrer shouted in anger.

'We agreed that they would be left open so that non-Germans could make business trips too and from here.'

'Ah yes, of course.' He smiled in remembrance; his sudden outburst of anger had disappeared. Opening up one of the mahogany draws of his desk, he took out a thick pen. Stepping over in a relaxed manner towards the board, he tapped on the stray dot to reveal an eight digit code. 'Look up this number; 86-43-53-33-9.' He ordered.

The subordinate took out a thick book from a draw in the Fuhrer's desk and looked up the number. 'Erm… Here it is! Edward Elric.'

'Find the files connected to this man.' He ordered as he sat back down in his seat.

He rushed into a room connected to the office and minutes later he was back again with the records that concerned the Elric. He opened up the brown file and spread them along the desk surface.

'Are you sure these are the right ones?'

'Of course. He's the only one with the surname Elric.'

'That DOES make the job easier. Can you remember when we had to search for a guy called Hans Schneider?'

'Yes, that was a nightmare sir. There were about 10 files at LEAST concerning men with that name.'

They both shuddered from the memory.

They carried on skimming through the files that also included his birth certificate and permanent record.

'Ok. Edward Elric. Born in the year… 1905?!' The subordinate looked with confusion, but Morsch held his calculated gaze on the papers. 'Th-That must make him… 104?'

'103 actually. It's not his birthday for a few months.' He corrected as he skimmed further through the files.

'But are you sure we're dealing with a 105 year old?'

'What do you mean? Of course we are! It says so in his profile!' Morsch started angrily.

'But look at his annual picture.' The subordinate held up a picture of Edward only to find that the person looked more like an 18 year old than anything else. Underneath the picture was labelled "Munich, 2000."

On the surface, Morsch's features were calm and collected, but on the inside was a mixed emotion of fear and yet at the same time discovery. "Could it be that he's found something that I've been searching for? He must have!" Morsch looked back at his loyal follower. 'It is rather puzzling.'

'Any orders, sir?' He asked routinely.

'Yes! Friedrich, take this photo. When he has landed and is off the plane I want you to take this photo and give it to the Storm troopers. Tell them to memorize the picture and then take a plane to the escapee's destination. I want him back ALIVE!'

'Yes sir!'

-Hours later-

The white stick had finally made its journey across the Atlantic and had finally landed in Manhattan.

'You know what to do.' Morsch smiled. Friedrich ran from the room with the photo in hand ready to give to awaiting Storm troopers, who were ready to do their jobs on pain of death.

Author's note: Thank you to Wannabe Kira () for the review, it was greatly appreciated, which is why this chapter has been dedicated to you! No characters from Friends yet, but how do you like the sort of futuristic technology in the office? I thought it would be cool for a German Fuhrer to have all of his people on a tight leash like this.

Anyway, keep up the reviews, because I love them with a passion! (D