DISCLAIMER: I do not own Berserk, or its associated characters. I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, or its associated characters. I'm just writing this for my own amusement. And now, back to our regularly scheduled Berserker.

EASTERN CITY

The sun beat down upon the travelers, as they filed off the train. Some called out to their family, and embraced their waiting spouses and children. Others merely picked up their luggage and disappeared into the city. The last few settled down on the platform, to wait for the train to their next stop.

And one set his booted metal foot down on the rail, cloak billowing behind him as he moved through the crowd. He was carrying something on his back, a big piece of metal in a strange shape.

It was far too big to be called a sword.

Too heavy, too thick, and far too rough, it was more like a heap of raw iron.

His fellow departing passengers stayed clear of him, and gave him nervous looks as he passed by. He'd been muttering to himself all through the trip. That, and also his disfigurements spoke of old pain and violence… Well, it was no business of decent folk.

And if a younger child insisted that the big man in black was talking to a little green guy with wings, well, that was obviously the sign of an overactive imagination.

The thing was, he WAS talking to a little green guy with wings. And many kids went without supper that night, for unjust reasons…

The big man wasn't talking right now. His mouth was full of bread and meat, and his hand was cradling the rest of the "Sand-witch." The little green guy on his shoulder was busy gnashing through a hunk of the sand-witch, too.

"I tell you Guts-Numf, numf. Thish issa-Gulp. This is a great idea! How come no one ever thought of it back home? I mean, breban'-Krunch, krunch… Breab'n'veggies'n soss all wrapped together…"

Guts shrugged, and Puck flailed to keep on his perch. "Don't know." He took another bite, and looked around. The buildings here were taller than Liore's… But there was no cathedral, to loom over it all. That was a good sign.

"I'm telling you-CHOMP… We ever get back, we can make a killing selling this idea…"

"We'll get back." But he frowned as he said it. A week ago he'd been sure of that. But the more he saw of this world…

It doesn't matter. He cut off his imagination. Have to find Caska. Everything else after that, can happen after.

He finished the sand-witch in three bites, and looked for a likely person. Winry had given him a few suggestions for finding Caska, and the first of them had sounded the best…

"Hey. Can I ask you a question?" He asked a blue-coated woman, who was leaning against the wall and watching people depart the train.

She glanced over at him. And up. Cool blue eyes, and blonde hair bound back in a no-nonsense braid. She's killed before. Guts knew, as she stared back at him. Well, that's one thing confirmed. These blue-coats are probably soldiers, not the town guard…

"I'm on duty, citizen."

He nodded, and turned to leave. "Good enough." Military's trouble I don't need.

"Wait."

He stopped. "Have you been through Central in the last week?" She asked. He could feel her eyes assessing him, as he stood still.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Nope."

"Where was your last stop?"

"A town called Resembool." He answered. She nodded, eyes not leaving his face.

She didn't speak for another minute. "You want something else?" Guts asked.

"What were you going to ask me?"

Guts shrugged. "I'm looking for a painter named Gineaux. I heard he has a studio around here…"

"Three streets down, hang a left and head north until you see a small café. He's got a room across from it. It's got a sign of a brush and easel by the door."

Guts nodded. "Thanks."

And he moved off into the crowd, towering over the mass of people swirling around him, lost in their everyday routine.

The blonde soldier's eyes followed him down the street, until he turned the corner.

Lt. Hawkeye frowned, as he passed from her sight.

I don't think he was lying, so he's probably not the killer. But in some way, some how, that man is trouble…

Neither of them saw the dark-skinned man with the white "X" scarred on his forehead, as he adjusted his sunglasses and moved into the alleyways…

---

Gineaux proved to be most agreeable to a few gold coins, and Guts left the studio a few hours later, with a piece of paper in his hand, and a few more rolled up and tucked into his cloak's pockets. He stopped and leaned against the wall to consider it, and Puck leaned forward from his shoulder, to whistle.

"That's a GOOD picture!"

Gineaux had gotten her skin shaded just right, and the eyes were spot on. The nose and lips were a little tricky, but they were close enough to the real thing that Guts hadn't argued.

Doesn't have to be perfect. Just has to be close enough for the normal guy on the street.

He looked up. The sun was starting to set, and the streets were getting emptier by the minute. "C'mon elf, let's find an inn. We'll start asking around tomorrow."

"YOU'LL start asking around, you mean. Remember, I'm next to invisible 'round these parts…"

Guts grunted. Then his eye slid across the street, to a familiar-looking blonde sitting at one of the café tables. She was wearing different clothes, but her hair was still the same. She was watching him evenly over a menu, and gave him a nod when she saw he had noticed her. He raised a hand in response, before heading down the street.

"She's STILL watching us? Oh, that can't be good." Puck sulked. He glared back at her, unseen.

Guts didn't reply, just walking down the street. He'd passed what looked like an inn on the way here, and his pouch had enough coin in it for at least a night or two.

That woman's got eyes like a hawk…

ONE HOUR LATER

It was indeed an inn, and they were happy enough to make change for his third-to-last gold coin. They gave him a handful of paper with pictures on it, which was pretty strange. Still, he figured he could fake it if he had to use the stuff later.

In any case, he had a room and dinner. Dinner was stew, which was pretty much the same in this world as it was in his own. There's only so much you could DO with stew, when you got down to it.

No one else in the common room seemed to pay him much mind. Probably helps that I left the sword upstairs.

He tucked into his bowl, holding it close as he spooned the broth up. He'd already asked the innkeeper about Caska, and gotten the usual negative response. Tomorrow he'd hit the streets, and see what he could find.

The door opened, letting night air in. He glanced up as two slim figures walked in, dressed in casual clothes. Both were wearing blue pants… One was the blonde woman again, and the other was an unfamiliar man with short black hair, and a permanent smile etched on his narrow face.

"Agh, not again! What does she WANT?" Puck howled, plumping his elbows on the table, and pouting.

The woman followed the strange man like a bodyguard, scanning the room for trouble and letting him get two steps forward before following. Now that she wasn't wearing her blue coat, Guts could see the gun sheathed at her side.

They headed straight for his table.

He took a bite of stew, and watched them approach.

They stopped, and looked him over for a second. Guts looked back. The strange man smiled. "Mind if we sit here?"

"Suit yourself."

The stranger eased himself into a chair, and waved at the innkeeper. "Three beers! Charge it to the command post."

The woman grimaced. "Sir…"

"Relax, Riza. We're off-duty, after all."

He grinned at Guts, who looked back, a bland expression on his face. "I suppose I should introduce myself. The name's Mustang, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang. This is my best sharpshooter, Lieutenant Hawkeye. And you are…"

"Almost done with my meal." Guts took another bite of stew, and ignored Mustang's outstretched hand.

He could feel the woman's eyes on him again. She hadn't taken a seat next to her boss.

"Hawkeye? Huh, that fits." Puck stared up at her, bored.

"Doesn't it though? I have to wonder if she changed it when she joined the service." Roy smiled.

Puck fell off the table.

Guts looked back up at Mustang, and slowly put the spoon down.

Mustang smiled back. Hawkeye looked at him like he was nuts.

"You can hear him."

"And see him."

"Remind me never to play cards with you."

Puck crawled back onto the table. "Why you? I mean, seriously, the only people who've seen me so far are… Well, they're not exactly people…" Puck squinted at him, suspicious.

Mustang shrugged. "I have no clue. But I figured since no one else in the room was gawking at you, I should play along."

"Sir?" Asked Hawkeye, glowering down at the Colonel. "Am I missing something here?"

"Yes, but don't worry about it."

Hawkeye's face flushed slightly. Mustang continued, oblivious. "So, who are you again?"

Guts leaned back. "The name's Guts. He's Puck. We're just passing through."

"Guts… Guts… You wouldn't happen to have been through Liore a week ago or so, would you?"

"Good guess."

"No guess at all. I read Ed's report."

"You know Ed?"

"The Fullmetal alchemist? Naturally. He works for me, after all. And yes, I know Al too. And I know what happened in Liore, with Cornello."

"What did happen? I ended up leaving before that was finished."

"They exposed Cornello for a fraud. Ed ended up defeating him in alchemical combat. Supposed to have been pretty impressive…"

"And afterwards?"

Mustang leaned back, his smile fading a bit.

"Afterwards… Well. The people had a lot of faith invested in Cornello. When that was gone…"

"Not a happy ending."

"I haven't told Fullmetal yet, but the military's been called in. Riots. Anarchy. Mob violence… That old familiar song."

Guts nodded. "Not too pretty. So what do you want?"

"You're not much for small talk, are you?"

"Nope."

"Good enough. You know Ed and Al, you know what they're after."

Guts nodded. "The phil-" Mustang shook his head. "No need to name it."

Puck snorted. "Not like this is the best place to discuss secret things anyway…"

Mustang grinned at the little elf. "I could ask you back to my place, but I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

Puck nearly fell off the table again. Hawkeye's eyebrows shot straight up on her forehead. Guts took a pull of his beer.

"But no," said Mustang. "You asked what I want… Long-term ambitions and impossible wishes aside, I need someone to check up on Ed and Al. They're following up another rumor on that item, in a small village not far from Eastern."

"Forget it."

Mustang leaned back, and took a sip of his own beer. "Why not? I'll pay you, if that's what it takes. Al said you were a mercenary."

"I don't have time to nursemaid kids. Besides, they can take care of themselves."

Mustang made a circle with his mug. "Normally, yes. They're very competent… don't tell them I said that, mind you."

"But… I'm not sure they know the full details of the situation. They're looking for a doctor, but so is another branch of the military. One that doesn't have as many scruples. If Ed's not careful, he could end up in jail or worse."

Guts put his mug down. "And you want me to reign them in?"

"In a nutshell… Yes. Or just keep an eye on them. Those two attract trouble."

"Why me?"

"The lieutenant here came to me today and said she'd found someone who practically radiated trouble. Asked for permission to keep you under surveillance, said that sooner or later it'd pay off."

Lieutenant Hawkeye stared straight ahead, her beer untouched on the table.

Guts shook his head. "I can't. There's someone I need to find."

"No problem. We'll help you look!"

Guts considered him for a second. Mustang grinned back. "I'm pretty high up on the chain of command around here, and I'll only get higher. You tell me who you're looking for, I can pass it along as a general order. You'll have the entire military on your side!"

Puck sat up. "You can do that?"

"You bet your little naked green ass I can!"

Hawkeye had long ago given up on Mustang making any sense. Still, she couldn't suppress her rolling eyes.

Guts nodded. "All right. If you can find her, you can find me. If you find her, you let me know."

"Her, huh? Not a problem. Got a description?"

"Better." Guts pulled out the portrait, and the two officers leaned over it. Mustang whistled. "So THAT's what you were doing at an artist's place… Here I thought I had you pegged as a nude model."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Can I keep this?"

"Sure. I've got more."

"Anything else I should know? Name, weight, all that happy stuff?"

"Caska. But, she doesn't always answer to it. She's shorter than me by a head and a half, and pretty light. She can't talk, her mind… She's mad." It hurt to say it, but he didn't see any point to sugar-coating it.

Mustang nodded, and handed the portrait to Hawkeye, who carefully rolled it up. "Good enough. We've got a deal, then."

Guts nodded. "Guess so."

---

"Are we there yet?"

It was a sunny day, the next morning. Guts had followed Mustang's directions as best he could, but the man had been annoyingly vague. Puck wasn't too happy about it.

"Little naked green ass… ooooh! What a weird guy! And how come only the annoying people get to see me? Well, not Al, he's not annoying… Listen, what were Must-ink's last instructions?"

"He said to just follow the explosions."

"Fff. Yeah, right. What possible use is-"

BOOM.

"…Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"

Guts started running. Puck grabbed ahold of his cloak, and held on for dear life…

They found the twisted remnants of a machine, with a few groaning blue-suited soldiers scattered around it. A bald man lay face-down, with a pool of blood around his head.

"What happened here?"

One of the soldiers pointed down the street. "Killer… Got, General Grand… Fullmetal…"

Guts looked up, in time to see a strange man down the street slam his fist into a stone wall. The wall blew inward, and the man dashed into the hole.

"What the hell!" Yelled Puck. "That guy just punched out a WALL?"

"Yup. Come on."

He arrived at the wall in time to see the backs of Ed and Al, and an unfamiliar older man, kneeling in the tunnel beyond. In front of them, a man wearing a tan jacket and some sort of eye-coverings, was busy preaching. His hair was two-toned, white and black, and his skin was dark. A large white scar adorned his forehead.

"…God is generous. Crystal alchemist, I'll finish you after I'm done with Fullmetal here."

"Hey."

The Scarred man looked up. Ed and Al looked over.

Guts stepped through the wall, drawing his sword and balancing it on his shoulder. It barely fit within the confines of the tunnel that surrounded them.

"You leave God out of this. He doesn't care, anyway."

"You!" Shouted Ed. "Get lost! I don't need your help…"

"Guts!" Said Al. "Oh, GOOD, she DID help you…"

The Scarred man stared, his voice low and threatening. "Take Fullmetal's advice. This is none of your affair. You WON'T be spared if you interfere."

"Thanks for the tip." Said Guts.

Scar's eyes followed the massive blade, as Guts brought it around one-handed, and fell into a two-handed stance, leveling it directly at his eyes.

"But I think I'll interfere."

"You had your chance." Scar said.

And the Scarred man raised his hand, clenching his fingers together as he began his charge…