DISCLAIMER: None of this belongs to me. I mean, that should be obvious as it is a FANfiction, but whatevs. Also, prepare for spoilers and MAJOR OOC-ness.

-Restaurant-

The pizza tasted great. This is far from surprising, as pizza is a much splendourful thing, one that should be cherished and savoured. And that is exactly what Jack did as the three companions devoured their lunchtime lunchiness at the restaurant known only as "That Really Great Restaurant You Might Hear About Sometimes Depending On Your Social Circle and the State of Your Aural Receptors". And indeed they were of the proper social circle; three very odd people, with varying levels of madness between them.

Jack had never experienced such a grand meal before; the crunchy sweetness of souls became irrelevant in the face of this divine tastiness. Or, at least, that would be the case, if he could figure out a way to eat without removing his mask. He eventually decided to pull the mask forward just enough to slip the pizza inside without losing control of his host. He then released it, allowing the mask to snap back and splatter the pizza all over the face of his host before using his masculine yet totally obscured eyebrows to force the remains into his mouth. So… yeah. The crunchy sweetness of souls became irrelevant in the face of this divine tastiness.

The other two completely ignored his heroic endeavours to devour the wondrous devourability. Hank was staring into a little mirror, his now distressingly pretty eyes bearing the blank expression of a man either truly broken or secretly overjoyed by his suddenly acquired anime-ness. Ed was just sitting there, trying to take in everything that had happened just a few hours ago. He had been chucked through the Gate several times, but to be suddenly pulled face-first into a portal made of bacon was a little odd, especially after having given up on returning to his own world.

That's when he began to wonder about the logic of the whole thing. He looked at the scratch on his left hand. He had obtained it while building a cannon a few days earlier, and it looked as though it had reopened at some point and he had neglected to notice. He had previously established that, for some reason, the blood of someone from his world allowed one to open the Gate from the dreary world he had been trapped in for about three years. But there was something else necessary as well. The transmutation of a being from the Gate itself. As far as he knew, all of the homunculi were dead, so it had to be…

"Pigs!" he stood up, shouting. The other patrons of the restaurant grew silent.

"Thank you for that thoughtful input, old boy." Jack mumbled, his mouth full and with pizza slipping out from under his mask. He soon found himself unable to swallow, and so he resolved to begin inhaling what was left. Feeling the stares of those in the proper social circles and fully functioning aural receptors burning into his very soul, Ed decided it was time to leave.

-Still Restaurant-

The three walked down a fancy hallway, rather quiet, aside from the sound of Jack snorting pizza.

"Hank, how did you get here?" Ed asked in a rather quizzical manner.

"…Huh?" Hank struggled to draw his eyes away from his reflection. "Oh. A crazy, reality-bending clown sent me here for whatever reason. Usually I would expect him to just kill me again, but whatever." His communication methods had since adjusted to this reality, because I was too lazy to repeatedly describe his old methods.

"Wait, 'again'? You've died before? And… you came back?"

"Big deal." Jack muttered. They both ignored him.

"Yeah, a bunch of times. No matter how I'm killed, some jerk, usually the clown, always brings me back." Hank said as they reached the stairs leading down to the ground floor. He felt a hand on his back, and, before he could react, Jack shoved him down the unusually steep stairway. They quietly watched him roll all the way down, screaming the whole way.

"What did you do that for?" Ed shouted.

"I don't know. Boredom, I guess." Jack said, shrugging.

"O, final death! I approach thee with great haste!" Hank said in a weak voice.

"Nup." Jack said, pointing a finger at the crumpled form at the bottom of the stairway as a burst of energy shot forth, rejuvenating him. "Ha ha, this could be even more fun than global arson."

"Guys, there are people staring. Let's just go." Ed said, trying to keep his voice low. Hank slowly forced himself up off the floor, repeatedly mumbling various curses as they left the restaurant.

-Not Restaurant-

"Hmm… Where should we go? I guess we could go visit Winry." Ed mumbled thoughtfully, ignoring Jack and Hank bickering behind him. The train station was filled with trains and station-ness, and the three misfits were less full of misfitivity among the many travelers. Soon enough, they were on a trainy train to Resembooly Resembool. "I have a theory." Ed said. "So Hank was brought here by an insane clown, and you, Jack, were brought here by an old guy with certain foot-based appendages in the wrong places."

"Yup." Jack said, arms crossed, rather impressed with the mechanical prowess of this world. After a long silence, Ed cleared his throat.

"I… I was brought here by bacon! Ha ha ha!" He said with a sheepish grin. Jack and Hank stared silently at him for about forty incredibly awkward seconds before the two of them broke out into hysterics. "It's not funny! It actually makes sense. I think that pigs come from within the Gate. That would explain it!" Jack and Hank stared silently at him for about forty incredibly awkward seconds before the two of them broke out into hysterics.

"I think you're just embarrassed about being eaten by your own food, Eddy, mah boi." Jack said.

"Tickets please!" The conductor had managed to unintentionally sneak up on the three, catching Hank off guard.

Never catch Hank off guard.

NEVER. CATCH. HANK. OFF. GUARD.

The conductor used to be able to stand on both legs, but then he took Hank's gun in the knee. He crouched down, screaming in pain and vomiting all over the place, while Hank simply stared at him with a very intense stare, two pistols drawn, held by the barrels for more kneecap bashing action. "!$%! What the !%# did you ^#$ing do that for, #*#$! #$$ity #$^ity !^# #%&! GRAAAGH!" The poor man screamed before the train ascended a steep grade. He happened to be in the exact position necessary to send him rolling downwards, breaking through the door into the next car, the next car, and so on, until he finally was sent flying out of the back of the train, leaving behind only a series of broken doors and a long trail of puke.

Ed stared at Hank. He opened his mouth as though he were about to make a statement, but closed it a moment later, resigning himself to the madness.

-Not Train-

His body hurt. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the sun was still scorching his crippled form. He silently cursed the twitchy black-clad maniac. What did he have against conductors anyway? His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a cloaked figure standing over him, ominously holding a small bottle with a label which read: "Epic Medicine Stuff that Heals You with a Big Lots of Happy". The figure pointed at the bottle with his free hand.

"You want it?" It was a deep, hearty voice. All the poor conductor did was nod.

"It's yours, my friend. As long as you have enough—toast!" His voice changed conspicuously on that last word.

"What… if I don't have… enough toast?" The conductor gasped.

"YOU WILL DIE." The voice was completely different this time, far deeper and more ominous. The conductor suddenly remembered that he had been late that morning. His capacity to devour a satisfactory breakfast lessened, he had simply shoved some dry toast in his uniform. He shakily pulled it out and handed it to the creature.

"MMMM." The conductor hoped that that was a good sign. The figure then opened the bottle and dumped it on his head. He instantly felt rejuvenated and more alive than ever before. The cloaked being dropped a rifle in front of him.

"Go and kill!" He commanded, pointing in the direction the train had gone. The conductor tried to see the face of his rescuer, but it was to no avail. "Squadala!" The creature shouted in a high-pitched, frail voice before vanishing in a purple light. The betrayed ticket collector took up the gun, and so began his quest for vengeance…

Author's Note: Really sorry for the long wait. I've been trying to write something for about ten years now, and I spent most of the time after writing the first chapter of this trying to write that, but so far I have been unsuccessful. Also, my laptop died a few months after the first chapter, and I find it even harder to concentrate on a desktop computer. But I got a new laptop last month, so hopefully things will start getting smoother, both for this, and for that other thing that I've been planning out in my head for ten years.