My first-ever fanfiction, to be an ongoing series. Please enjoy! I will happily read critiques and take suggestions to heart, but I'm not going to beg for them. Critique only if you wish to.

DISCLAIMER: I do not, as much as I wish I did, own FMA. I did, however, come up with the bizarre character names, and the non-FMA characters mentioned below.

"Look! A cow!" I exclaimed delightedly, pointing out the window of the train with one gloved hand. My partner, as I refer to him, who really is my subordinate, sighed disgustedly and glanced for the millionth time at his silver watch. He growled something under his breath and pocketed it, then began drumming his fingers on the armrest.

"Look! Another cow!"

"What is it with you and large bovinoid animals, Colonel?" he snapped finally, a scathing tone in his voice.

"They're the best! Look at the way they, like, move! And it's freakin' awesome how they can stick their tongues up their noses. Plus, if there were no cows, then there'd be no milk, and ultimately—"

"—no chocolate, I'm well aware." He uncrossed his legs, shifting restlessly. The Lieutenant isn't known for his patience. "Dammit, how much longer until we get there!"

"Not long." I stared out the window some more, counting cows. We were quiet for a good stretch of time, until we hit Central City's limits, where the farmland melted into grey cement and black pavement. In less than five minutes the train shuddered to a halt.

The Lieutenant was on his feet before we had even stopped moving, grabbing his suitcase from under the seat and walking towards the door impatiently. I sighed, and followed suit not long after, shouldering my rucksack. I stepped out into the warm summer air of the city, stretching happily. It had been a long ride from the mountains, but considering that the case we would be working on here promised to be interesting, it was damn well worth it.

"You see anyone yet?" I asked.

The Lieutenant shook his head. "Not a soul. They're late."

"More's the pity. Who are they sending again?"

"That skirt-chaser Mustang and couple of the oafish behemoths he calls "subordinates", though they really are more like large troll-like boulders with porno magazines where their brains should be," he growled, lighting a cigarette. "And some bratty little kid named Fullmetal."

"Fullmetal? Isn't he the youngest State Alchemist ever?"

"Quite. He beat you to it, eh, Genya?"

"Only by about two years…"

He chuckled. "No need to sound so bitter. So far as I know, you're the youngest female State Alchemist they've got."

"And you're probably the shortest."

At four foot six, the Lieutenant was only about level with most peoples' chests. He gave me a hard look, frowning slightly. "You jest."

"Nope! Sorry, my friend, he's got at least five inches on you."

He sighed sadly, scuffing the ground with the heel of his boot. You could almost feel sorry for him, and I say almost because he's got the kind of temper that can lift a city bus when engaged.

"Are you Colonel Genya Erdien, the White Wolf Alchemist?" inquired an authoritative voice.

"Indeed I am," I answered. "And you must be the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang."

Roy was tall and lean, with a sort of lazily confident look to him. He had a shock of stylishly ruffled jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, gleaming knowingly. I shook his hand. He had a firm grip, usually a sign of good character. He looked down at my partner.

"And you would be…" Mustang frowned at his clipboard, trying to decipher the name written there. "Uhm…err…the Blade Alchemist, Lieutenant…?"

"Killan Fellslift," growled the person in question, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

"Ah. A very…interesting name. May I introduce you to my subordinates?" Roy gestured to the two men accompanying him, a tall blonde man and a shorter guy with black hair. The taller one saluted stiffly, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc, at your service," he said. He had half-lidded ice blue eyes and a strong, muscular build, and a rather handsome face, long without being horse-like.

"Kain Fuery, ma'am," said the second one, also saluting. He had a roundish, cute face with large hazel eyes behind the thick frames of his glasses. He was smaller and much more compact, not the type of guy you'd think you'd see in the military.

"Well then, shall we get going? Havoc, Fuery, you take the Lieutenant to headquarters. I'll stay behind and make sure Colonel Genya knows the details of the case," ordered Mustang, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

"Mr. Mustang, sir, Killan and I always go to the scene of a crime together. It's protocol." A total lie, but it was at least a little true. Mustang looked taken aback for a second, but then he shrugged nonchalantly. "On second thought, you two take the Lieutenant to the crime scene and I'll take Miss Genya myself."

Fuery and Havoc exchanged significant looks. Killan looked from me to Roy and back again, his eyes narrowed, but in the end left with the other two.

Mustang flashed me a winning smile, running one hand back through his hair. He gestured loosely in the direction of his car, taking one of my hands gently.

"Shall we go?" he asked in a sleek voice, leading me away.

I nodded, even though I was mildly creeped out. We walked to the waiting car, with the Colonel chatting brightly about the weather and various bits of useless stuff like that. I ignored him completely, instead going over what little I knew about the current case I was to begin working on. I slid into the passenger seat and he started the car.

"Miss Erdien," he began, as we began to pull away.

"Call me Genya," I replied absently.

"Genya. Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tonight, at, say, eight?"

I blinked.

"What did you say?"

"Genya, I would love to treat you to dinner tonight at eight o'clock."

"As in a date."

He nodded.

"With candles."

More nodding.

"And possibly champagne."

Vigourous nod.

"I don't think you should be giving alcohol to minors, sir."

Mustang choked on whatever smooth remark he was going to say.

"Minor?"

"I'm sixteen. And I hate alcohol."

He sputtered meekly, but in the end he was quiet, and we soon arrived at the crime scene.