I know some people in this fic are REALLY, and that I MEAN REALLY OOC. Just… bear with me. I just wanted to kill Edward suddenly, and I needed an excuse.

The idea came from Tears and Rain from SchwarzShifter, and the main thing in the start is similar. Ed centric mainly, but may have some EnvyEd if looked at certain way or onesided!RoyEd if you twist the screen several times. MAYBE Royai if you squint really really hard enough. If you likes EnvyEd, I suggest you go read it.

Rated M for a reason. Very VERY gory, if I may say so myself, so go read something less… gory if you are weak hearted to all that. Have sexual indications. Yup. those. But they're only implications, and it doesn't really have those kinds of scenes in there. It's only implications.

Mentions of Homosexuality and rape, Evil Mustang, Crazy Envy, and Suicidal Ed. Not to mention Horribly Ignorant Riza and her dog, Hayate.

Nuff said, enjoy! Oh, and PLEASE R&R. I need to know what people think! Well, do not flame unless you have a good reason to.

Last Report

"… I'll see you … tomorrow, as usual, Fullmetal. And get those reports done perfectly for once. … Else, we might just meet again after that."

"… Yes. … Sir."

I close the door behind my back, as quietly and carefully as I can.

2 am.

The bastard went on for 4 hours this time… 5 rounds and 2.. on my part… he must have had… what, Viagra, or something, that pedophile… Feh. I guess he either noticed that he got tired easily or he just wanted his share for … today, I guess, since there's no work on Sundays (1).

I look back, the brown, now reddish-black wooden doors stare at my eyes with such finality that I think it's saying that my life is as closed as those two… gates. I shudder, trying to ignore the disturbing memory and turn around. My mind tend to stray to the subject of returning to the … Gate whenever I see the doors, seemingly promising another round of torture… as it had been for several years already. It…started after the Tucker incident, so it was … about 4 years?

Yes, 4 years. 4 years since the bastard started fucking me, 4 years since he's been blackmailing me, 3 years since he's been abusing me, 2 years and a half since he's done it publicly, one year since he'd become the Fuhrer, one year since he'd refused to let me retire after getting Al's body back, one whole fucking year, changing nothing in this relationship, if it can be called as such.

I pick up my walking pace; I do not want anyone, especially him again to see me lounging around HQ at this time. He'd probably think of it as another fucking excuse.

My walking gets faster, and my thoughts wander back again to the things that he'd done to me these past years. I struggle to keep my cool as the horrors cloud my eyes.

I can't stop the feelings that overwhelm me. I start crying, and my feet are only running to go-ah-Gate knows where. I have my eyes open but I don't see, I have my ears hearing but I don't recognize the sound.

Oh, never mind. I just did. Footsteps. I hide myself in the next corner and listen. Is it a spy? Not that I care for this fucking country, but I can not show myself to anyone that I'm here. But then again, it could be the bastard… finished with his work and going to go home… Yeah, fat chance with all those paperwork on his coffee table… But then he doesn't read them… I doubt he bothers to scan my reports. If he did, he would have said something. After all, aren't our nightly meetings' what I write about nowadays? I even think he files them himself, too. Not. He probably has my file in his drawer, and dumps my reports in that drawer…

I digress.

So then anyway, who was it? Some other random guy? I stop and listen. The footsteps are just those: feet. It doesn't have the stuffy clacking sound of military shoes, or the sound of clip-clops of normal shoes. It sounds like… a 'he', by the spaces in between steps, and he's barefoot. Weird.

The footsteps stopped. The noise stopped, the steps stopped, the shadow stopped. But I know he's still approaching. I turn around, looking for whatever I could use as a hiding place. I move, making as little noise as I can… and find a door. Perfect. Just wonderful. I stop looking where I'm going for five seconds and my feet sends me to the roof. All I can hope for is that whoever following me is stupid enough not to think of the roof… at least until I'm out of here.

I turn the knob. No noise yet. Good. Impending feeling coming near, not so good. Whoever it is, he's still approaching, but the feeling is slower… he's slowing down; the doorknob is free. Good. He must either already know where I'm going, or really be confused. Still, it's a good sign. I open the door slowly. The doors are surprisingly well oiled, thank g...the Gate. I get in, and start closing the door, when a figure blasts the door off its hinges, slamming it into my already tired body.

I gasp, only partially from surprise. The door knob on this side slammed into my ribs, I'm sure I heard a crack. Or two. I wince, and look up at the looming figure in front of me. Oh, the day just can't think of a way to get better, eh? I was looking for this; a perfect opportunity to decorate the gruesome life of mine. And I know the perfect punch line for this last report-

"Hey, O-Chibi-Chan."

Wow. For once, the homunculus has perfect timing.

"Envy."

"Hey, what's the matter, shortie?" sniggers the Sin, "Rough day?"

"Sorta."

Envy looked stunned for some reason. Maybe because I didn't react to 'short'? Or is it because I just didn't react in general? Anyways. His expression turns evil (at least, in my point of view) right away…

"I know just the thing that'll relieve ya," says he, launching himself and his now spear-arms towards me.

"Oh, let me guess. Death." I reply, dully dodging the fist he just threw. "I think you can skip the torture part. Mustang's been doing an awesome job about it."

"Aw, the little Chibi's been teased?" Sneered Envy, successfully landing a kick to the temple. I grunt in pain and stagger back, hand on my head.

"Oops, now did the big bad Envy hurt little-ol' Ed too bad?" He cackled, and jumped at me again. I wheeze, and as I block his fists I realize I don't have to do this. I don't have a reason not to let him hit me. Kill me. Something in my body flips. If I let go, I will die. I won't be able to see Al, or Winry, or Pinako, or… or Mustang. I grin as I remind myself of the plan.

I chose to make a deal with the devil.

As I dodged Envy's snake-shifted fist, I threw the first bait. "Envy, what if I told you that you could maim me if you wanted?"

"I'd say true!" he yelled triumphantly as the snake managed to bite my forearm. Right forearm.

"What if I say I'd let you?" I yelled back, carefully putting a teasing tone in my voice.

"Cut to the chase, imp," sneered Envy, slithering away from my array of attacks.

"Kill me," I suggested, before somersaulting away from Envy's low kick.

"You don't seem to want to die much," growled Envy as I sprung from my hands to land a flying kick in his abdomen. "If you WANT to die, why do you fight back?"

"I don't want to die right NOW," I started, until Envy swung at me with an axe-arm, successfully cutting me in my sentence.

"Of course, SURE," he said, eyes becoming wilder and smirk turning into an ugly grimace, "No one REALLY WANTS to die; I bet you'll like to die after you've lived your part, ne? You fuckin' hypocr-"

"I meant tonight. Or perhaps early next morning. Just before the first early-risers come to work," I supplied, trying to hold the hissing hand-snake off my face. Suddenly, the snake blinked, and transformed into a human hand once again. I didn't let go. Not yet. A brief silence reined the cool, breezing roof. The sun was beginning to rise, and I duly noticed that sweat was beginning to form on my forehead.

"… Start yappin'," said Envy, his face in a dull mask of apathy. However, his eyes were forming curiosity. I let go of the hand, my muscles still at the ready for whatever attack Envy might disgracefully abject to.

"I don't suppose, since you already want to kill me, you'd do me a little favor…" I can't stop myself from enjoying Envy's slight look of surprise at my tone of actual enjoyment from being killed.

Monday morning. Everyone's tired; the week's started all over again. The early risers were just starting to arrive at the HQ, as was the always tactful Major-General Riza Hawkeye. (2)

As usual, her day at work starts as giving orders to Black Hayate to stay. Having done that, she moves on to the coffee pot to pour herself a hot, strong, morning coffee.

As she sips her liquid paradise, she walks around the office, making sure to open the curtains and the windows to let out the trapped stuffy air of last Friday. When that's all done and done, she leaves the office, leaving Hayate for extra security measure, and heads towards the documentation room, to her (by that she meant her whole office's) pigeon hole for the day's paperwork.

She takes her time, knowing that 7:30 was too early in the morning for even Colonel Kain Fuery to arrive. Taking the immense pile of paper into a nearby box, she thanks the lieutenant holding the door for her as she marches out, back towards the office. She reaches the office 15 minutes earlier than anyone else, as usual, and starts sorting out the relevant paperwork for each member of the Fuhrer's elite team.

8 o'clock, sharp. Colonel Fuery and Falman shows up right on time when Hawkeye manages to sort out all of the files. And then the new ones pile up as lower-ranked officers excuse themselves in to deliver the wretched papers. 8:15. Major-General Heymans Breda enters with an excuse on the tip of his tongue, as always. Soon after, Major-General Jean Havoc enters dragging the two new additions to the group; Ayan Bauer and Matthews Scout. Both ranked Lieutenant Colonels, were almost freshly picked from the academy by the Fuhrer himself.

Ayan Bauer was almost in battle with Breda for his ingenuity in battle grounds, his only problem being that he was not able to recognize potential variables. Matthews Scout was taken in for his interest in the theory of water alchemy, even though he signed up as an investigations' unit. (3)

Hawkeye gives out the paperwork for the individual soldiers, and lets Black Hayate out of the office to roam free away from Breda. She smiles as she sees her dog trotting away happily. It's another day in Central HQ.

8:20. The 'early' time for the Fuhrer to present himself. Hawkeye looks at the clock impatiently. 3… 2… 1. She sighs, as she reaches for the first drawer and pulls out her favorite pistol, one she'd never use except for threat shots, fills it with bullets and starts polishing it and oiling it. By the corner of her eyes, she sees the rest of the crew tense up at the weaponry, but soon they relax as she aims experimentally at the Fuhrer's doors.

8:57. The Fuhrer arrived (finally), everyone pretended to work, and Hawkeye aimed her threat-gun towards Mustang's head, cornering him into his office.

"I hope you've had your rest, sir," Said Riza, trying to ignore the smirk that suddenly came upon Mustang's face. She loved that smirk. It meant that she would have reason to shoot dangerously close to Mustang's ear. Which she did.

"Now, sir, I have the paperwork piled up for you, and you have 3 stacks of urgent forms that need to be signed within the next hour. With all due respects, sir, I suggest you move."

As soon as he scrambled into his office, the Major-General holstered her gun and followed him with the stacked paperwork for Monday and the rest of the week.

As she entered the office, however, the not so faint smell of sex slapped her face. She looked at Mustang, and he looked surprised as well, with some… recognitions. Trembling from shock, and probably anger, she dumped the paperwork on top of Mustang's desk.

"What is the meaning of this?!" She yelled, yet not able to fend off the faint but visible blush on her cheeks. And it seemed like Mustang noticed it. His numb face was turned into another smirk, this one a bit more seductive.

"What is it, Major-General?" asked Mustang, clearly enjoying the woman's discomfort. "Oh this? I'm positive that it's the residue of a meeting I had with one of my… acquaintances."

This comment made her even more flustered, either by rage or embarrassment. Opening her mouth, she couldn't find the voice to verbally chastise him, closed her mouth, and began going around the office, opening curtains and windows to let the smell dissipate.

"You know, the smell would be gone faster if you open the huge one right here," said Mustang, as he started on the huge pile of papers.

"Yes, but then that means I'll have to get closer to the smell," replied Hawkeye calmly as she opened up the last of the small windows of the huge one-man office. The smell dissipated somewhat, but it was still there, noticeably strong for anyone to guess if they concentrated hard enough. Sighing, she walked over to the desk, getting behind the working (doodling) Mustang, giving him a sharp slap on the head before trying to open the curtains.

Trying.

The window was humongous, and the curtains were draped heavily over them. Who in their right mind would put curtains on such a gigantic window? It seemed like the curtains have been since before Bradley's time, and the hanger-rod kept squeaking dangerously every time she pulled the curtains.

She tried again, and only succeeded in flapping the material, the top not moving. Sighing, she decided to just tie the ends to the side, and open the windows from there. She gathered the ends of the right-curtain first, trailing her hands upwards to tie them high up at about waist length… and she saw a flicker of blood.

Curious, she let one hand go and reached up for the speck of blood. Her hand tried to wipe it off, but the blood was on the other side of the window. She replaced her hands on the curtains and held the curtains' hem higher at around her neck, and she saw more blood, a corner of a paper and … the edge of a boot.

A chill ran down her spine, and calming herself, she yanked as hard as she could on the curtains trying to open them up. As she flapped hazardly the materials, she would get a glimpse of what was behind the curtains, those brief images making her motions more frantic and hurried until her actions ripped the curtain hanger clear off the wall over the window.

Black Hayate was happy.

A new week had started in his playground, his pet was happy to be back seeing other humans, and he had found a treat from the human at the dog-food smelling place. (4) It wasn't a big bone, but it had some meat scrap on it so it was okay. He was looking for a quiet place for him to chew on it in peace, when he noticed the thin smell of blood in the air.

Congratulating himself for noticing it, he buried the bone under a tree nearby, and after memorizing it, ran for the place where he smelt the blood most. After many twists and turns, he arrived at where he considered as the back grass-ground. There, in the middle of piles of big rocks, was a … woman? With long black hair sitting slouched. (5)

She stunk of blood, but he couldn't smell anything else. Where was her smell?

He dismissed the lack of personal smell for the abundance of the blood's, and sneaked closer, as quietly as possible. The posture of the woman was slack, as if she was sad, but there was no smell of sadness coming from her. Hayate started to trot towards her, still attentive to run away and alert his pet if she turned out to be a threat.

He got around the woman, finding the blood-drenched, blankly-grinning face of … a man. He didn't have the soft pillows on his chest that was on Hayate's pet. The dog barked at the stranger, and the man's eyes turned his face towards Hayate.

His face was smiling, but his eyes were … sad? It was the eyes his pet would often have when he and his pet would visit the place with flat stones and full of dead smell. In his hands he was holding a pointy sharp thing that Hayate didn't recognize. Was it a weapon? (6)

On the other hand, the man carried something very big and shiny. It looked like a toy, because it looked like a giant stick, and it was shiny. It looked like something the other, much smaller human with long whitish fur on his head had. It smelled a lot like him, too. Only it had more scents on it, like the blood and … that… stinky smell that Hayate sometimes sniffed when he entered the black haired human's room. (7)

"Hey, you're that dog Hawkeye takes around, ne?" spoke the bloody man, surprising Hayate out of his thoughts.

"You talk?" barked Hayate, intrigued by the sight of a talking human (8). His humans always had trouble speaking, even the smarter ones like the black haired one or the smallest whitish-haired one.

"Sure. Whatever. Hey, could you do me a favor?" the man barked back. "You know the shrimp in the office? The smallest human in there, yeah? He lost his toy. I got it back, can ya give it to anyone in the office, so they can give it to him?"

"Sure!" barked Hayate for the last time, as he took the bloody arm from the man.

He started running back to his pet, when he remembered his manners to say thanks. When he turned around, however, the man was gone. Tail wagging slightly, Hayate turned back to where he was heading, running as fast as he could to give the toy back to his other human.

Many of the humans stared at the toy as he ran past; some even tried to grab it from him. Those attempts made Hayate to run faster to the playroom. Hayate escaped each tries; the humans were jealous of this toy: it must be a good one.

He got to the doors that smelled right, but they were shut tight, and he couldn't let go of the toy to bark because other humans might try to steal it again. He started to scratch at the wood, hoping that someone would hear the noise before other humans came to get him.

Hayate shot inside as soon as the door opened, ignoring the fat human screech as he always did. He was getting confused by all the noises that he began to growl, scaring the fat man even more. He looked around for someone who was making the least noise, and found the human with big shiny eyes staring at the toy.

Maybe he wanted the toy too, but Hayate didn't care anymore. His teeth hurt with the weight, and this human was sometimes playing with the 'shrimp', as the stranger said, so he would show the 'shrimp' too.

As soon as Hayate dropped the toy on the big-eyed human the room became quiet. Maybe he should have done it earlier. But then the room was suddenly filled with smells of fear. Or was it worry? Why would the humans worry or be scared about a toy? Sure it was bloody, but it was all dried up now. Wasn't it?

As soon as Hayate dropped the arm on Fuery's lap, everything had gone quiet in the office. Fuery, struggling to keep his scream to himself, grabbed the arm, and rolled it over in his hands. There, on the plate of the forearm, it was carved with something sharp enough to cut through steel:

To FuHRER MusTANG.

It was rough, definitely not made from alchemy, but the words that were carved was big and legible enough for everyone in the office to read from their places around the smaller man. And as soon as they did, all leapt towards the inner office, worried for the teen whom they considered as little brother. They burst into the office, into the horrific scene with a dramatic clang of the metal curtain bar falling from the window.

Riza did not care for the metal clang that resounded in the room; she did not look back at Mustang when he tried to calm her down when the curtain started to fall; she did not see her comrades barging in with panicked expressions; her eyes were transfixed, as were everyone else's, on the words, on the blood, on the body that was hanging outside the window, staring right back.

Blood was splattered all over the window, from the top to bottom, dried-up reddish brown dots and lines covered a good part of the window. More blood was smeared on top to form words: NoT ToDAy, MusTANG, NoT EvER

The bloody words had dripped down to form rivulets of tiny bloodstreams. All around the words there were 6 pages were half stuck by the blood covering it, half hanging precariously in the wind on the window. They were stained dark red, making the words illegible.

Behind those papers was a body, or what seemed to have been a body, hanging from supposedly the roof. It was truly a deadly sight to see. Edward Elric, the people's icon (9), was mangled to unrecognizable heap of flesh.

He was hanging by the ropes around his neck, which was in turn holding the half torn neck together so that the head didn't rip and fall. The esophagus and trachea were flapping in the breeze; the trachea was pulled out from the throat, and the esophagus was pulled out from another cut near the collar bones.

Someone had cut open Ed's chest and abdomen, right to the back where the skin was stretching to tearing: some places already had hole in them, and the biggest hole was stitched roughly with thick strings so the body wouldn't tear into two. The person had cleared out the organs except for the heart. Instead they filled in dead rats, where they attracted flies and maggots to breed on their carcass, and move on to the insides of the body. The only remaining organ in Ed's body was the heart, which was severed from the body but stabbed in place by a glass shard.

His left arm was smashed into a mush of blood and flesh, and the white of the bones could be seen where the skin or muscles had been torn off. Ed's right arm was nowhere to be seen, and the port, still hanging by the few wires that were connected to the shoulder bone, was still dripping from the coalescing blood. His shirt and pants were shredded, and the black turned brown material did nothing to hide the disaster of a body.

The left thigh still had its port, but the whole automail was bent spirally outwards the foot ending up next to Edward's waist, and even the port was beyond hopes of repair. The bent automail ripped open the old wounds and showed what was left of the thigh bone, which was dripping with marrow from the cut open side. The right leg was limp, and was the least harmed, at least in sight, limb.

There was a hole through the knee where it seemed to have been shot multiple times, and a knife had gone through from the gaping hole down to the foot. The bones seemed to be gone, but no one could be sure if they were still in the body, only crushed to ashes. The foot still had a boot; the thick black boot Ed had always worn everywhere.

But every thing the person had done to Edward, to Edward's body, was not compared to what they had done to his face. His face, marred with blood and cuts, was barely recognizable. There was a rip through the right cheek, cutting through the flesh. The rip was also stitched very roughly with thick strings, so that anyone could still see the gaping wound.

One of his eyes was plucked out from its socket, leaving a bloody hole where it was weeping blood. The other eye was dimmed to a yellow, staring back into nothing. However, the remaining light in his eyes, the slight quirk in the mouth where the corpse had hardened, how the head was slightly tilted to the side… it all seemed like Edward was mocking those who were watching him.

His hair was in disarray, out of his standard braid and tossed over his shoulder, cascading and framing the once heart-shaped face with blood-matted gold.

The rest of the crew barely took their eyes off the corpse when they heard Riza Hawkeye, the toughest woman in all Central HQ, fall unconscious.

There was only the resounding sound of metal to concrete as all fell into silent shock.

The arm dropped like lead in water, the blood-clotted mechanism finally taken apart from the impact, and the arm fell into pieces. The metal plate with the carving broke into two, and the hand, which seemed like it was holding a fist, broke down into the wiry skeleton, letting the object in it go. From the now slack hand dropped a silver watch, which fell to the floor with a clatter.

The watch was already broken in the hinges, the glass already shattered. Inside the lid was the date 3. Oct. with the words Don't Forget on top. Underneath the old date, there was another piece of beautifully alchemicized carving that read: I quit.

Envy was strolling across rooftops, where he wouldn't be annoyed by cops for his wear or the blood he was covered in. His mind was reminiscing the part where he was spooning out Edward's eye… it had been fun, he remembered, as he allowed a small grin to show. He stopped, and took out a small object from his pocket.

"Who knew the Chibi had such dangerous thoughts in his mind?" Envy heard himself say, smiling in his euphoric bloodlust, as he rolled the small white ball, trying to get the red smudges off the yellow iris.

1- So this means that the meeting was on Saturday, and this is on Sunday, and the even will be on Monday.

2- It's in present tense cause it's the everyday thing.

3- Just some OC's I randomly made up in the last minute… cause well, if Roy became the Fuhrer I thought he'd be thinking of getting more talents in his crew.

4- Just a little joke of what I saw in other fics. They make the mess sound so disgusting! XD So… why not.

5- Some may argue that it's green, or greenish; I don't care. It's DOG vision. They see the world as Black and White. And since Envy has his hair long and … well, long, it's possible that he might be mistaken as a girl.

6- Yeah, this refers to the whole paragraph, I didn't want to put down every point every where, there are already too much points I may have to explain. Firstly, Envy doesn't have a distinct smell cause he's a homunculus. I am not going to tell you about how he's feeling, interpret his face however you want to. As for the pointy thing… I have absolutely no idea. It doesn't matter anyways. It's a DOG's point of view.

7-Yeah. Another paragraph-whole stuff. The big and shiny thing is, if you haven't noticed, Ed's arm. Whitish fur, well, like I say for the third time, it's from a DOG's perspective. Black and White. Yellow, I'd say a bit towards the white, don't you think? The stinky smell… you know, Ed said they had sex for quite some time. I think it may be reasonable that the room sometimes did smell like that, and since Ed died on the same day that he got raped last, I didn't think he would care enough to shower. Thus the smell.

8- What? Humans get surprised when they find an animal that speak their language, why not the other way around? Besides. Envy can talk dog, since he can transform into a dog. I actually wanted to give 'humans' another 'dog name' like 'two-paws' or something, but then it would have gone too confusing.

9-Here I meant by icon for the meaning of 'hero'. Damn SAT and their words.

Wah… it got a bit longer than what I expected… 4,820 words… not bad. 8 pages, too. Heh… well, I got that lump out of my brain… maybe I could think a bit … less gruesome when I read fics. :)

Tell me anything! ANYTHING!!! Well, except flames. Criticisms may make me cry, but I might need it, so please go ahead.

EDIT: Well.. THAT didn't happen. Anyways. thanks to SchwarzShifter, 1edo1kun1, CrimsonVixen333!!

mrawgirl09