Chapter One:

It was pitch dark. There was no moon, and the stars were hidden by heavy clouds. The streets of Dublith were quiet, the windows of the houses dark as their inhabitants slept. Street lamps flickered as a chill wind blew, the leaves of the trees rustling dryly. Only one person walked the streets, and they were in no position to call themselves human. It was a Homunculus, an artificial human; a being born from a failed human transmutation. He went by the name of Greed, also called the Ultimate Shield.

His features were hard and angular, his teeth sharp, giving the vague impression of a shark or of some great lizard. A red Oroborus mark surrounding an odd star adorned the back of his left hand, vivid proof of what he was. He was tall, his close-cropped, spiky brown hair almost black. His eyes were a brilliant amethyst, the dark pupils silted like those of a beast. There were five other Homunculi, and they were each named for one of the Seven Deadly Sins; Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Pride, and Sloth. There were meant to be seven in all, but Wrath was yet unborn.

Greed was rather different from his 'siblings', he always had been. In fact, he held great contempt for the others, Envy in particular. He had no conscious urge to become human as the others did, and was the only one not to view humans and worthless fools and pawns, to be used and manipulated. But what Greed did desire was immortality. He wanted to live forever, never tiring; to be completely invincible and able to take whatever he wanted; to take everything. When he wanted something, he would take it without question, whether it belonged to someone else or not. There was only one thing Greed had not been able to obtain, and it was the very thing he wanted most. But that was about to change.

Greed would have his chance at immortality, but whether or not he would take that chance would be up to him.

000

Rayven ran her fingers through her long brown hair, sighing loudly. "This is gonna take forever," she muttered, pouting at the rows and rows of bookshelves that were spread out before her. She was standing in some wing of the library—she didn't know which wing—trying to think of where to start looking. She had come to the library with the intention of starting her summer report on ancient sciences. Or, more specifically, on alchemy. It had caught her interest on the list of possible report subjects, as she knew a little bit about it from some of the fantasy novels that she had read. Turning lead into gold, finding the elixir of life; it was a subject that Rayven thought that she could do a fairly good report on. But now, with so many books before her and not having any idea where or how to start, she was feeling a bit discouraged.

Making a face, Rayven hefted her camouflage messenger bag higher on her shoulder, and adjusted the baggy gray hoodie she wore over a faded button-up blue shirt. The jeans that hung off her hips were big on her, and her black boots were scuffed and spotted with mud. Her dark, full lips still pouting, Rayven advanced into the shelves with a look of resignation in her green eyes.

She came across no one as she moved slowly through the silent shelves, eyes looking from side to side at the books she passed. At times, Rayven could be lazy, but she was also mulishly stubborn; once she started something, she refused to stop until it was finished. She kept moving, and after what seemed like hours, she found the shelf that held what few books the library had on alchemy.

Brushing her hair out of her face, she reached out towards a thick, newer looking book with a laminated cover. However, before she touched it, a moderately sized, faded blue volume caught her eye. It was most certainly an older book, the cloth cover fraying in paces. As she pulled the book from the shelf, she felt a small shiver run up her arm. Brushing it off as the result of an old, drafty building, Rayven looked at the cover. The silver writing on it was faded, and she couldn't quite read the words. Despite the book's appearance, Rayven found herself intrigued. Putting the book under her arm, She left the shelves and wandered over to one of the groups of small tables. She set her bag down, though kept the strap hooked over her arm.

Sitting down, she set the book before her. She tucked her hair behind her ears and opened the book to the cover page, pushing her oval glasses up on the bridge of her nose. She was able to read the title, Amestris: Advanced Alchemy, and it only made her more interested. She couldn't read who had written the book, and for her report, that might be a problem. However, at this point, Rayven had completely forgotten about the report she was supposed to do for school.

When Rayven found a good or interesting, she became so absorbed completely forgot everything else. She turned to the first page, eyes running over the faded letters. She shifted in the chair, settling in for a long read. Her focus was soon totally absorbed. And as timed passed, the furrows in her brow grew deeper and deeper. The way the book went on, it was talking about alchemy as if it were a practical concept, and it seemed as if this were a volume that instructed people on how to actually use alchemy! Not only that, but used in a physical way, instead of simply with mixing chemicals. Rayven's eyes grew wider and wider.

She turned the page quickly, and found herself looking at an odd, circular diagram. It was massively complicated, words that she couldn't understand woven in and out of the design. Slowly, she reached out, touching the diagram with both hands. She was enveloped by golden light that swallowed her scream and wrapped her in silence.

000

Rayven… Rayven… Rayven…

Someone was calling, calling out her name and beckoning to her; she was being pulled by something. It felt as if there were hands around her, tugging at her body and slowly pulling her away from something warm and comforting. Rayven struggled, but her limbs and body felt as heavy as lead. She couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed; all she could see was blackness. Fear and panic made her throat dry and her body shiver. She twisted her head from side to side, trying to see something, anything. Abruptly, a figure appeared in the darkness. It was separate, and yet a part of the complete and total blackness that surrounded Rayven, androgynous and without gender

She couldn't make out any facial features, only shadows where nose, eyes, and mouth should have been. What seemed to be the figure's mouth opened, revealing only darker blackness. When it spoke, the figure's voice sounded as if thousands of people were speaking at once, as if they were all addressing her with calm, resonant voices. "Ah, so you are the Key," the figure said, taking silent steps forward until it stood before her. It was head and shoulders taller than the young woman, and she found herself trembling as she stared up into the featureless face. "You are not as strong as the last, but you will survive."

"Wha-what are you talking about?" Rayven managed, voice nothing more than a rasping whisper.

"The last Key to Immortality," the shadow said, as if explaining some simple concept to a child. "You don't seem as strong as the last one, but you'll do." Rayven continued to stare with wide eyes. "Ah, I suppose I should explain things to you. You see, you contain a power that can grant immortality using the energy of the Philosopher's Stone. You are going to do this once the Stone is created. For now, you are going to have to survive in a world that is not your own. Good luck, little one."

000

Greed lifted his eyes, stars reflecting in the piercing amethyst depths. He blinked slowly, lost in thought. He had felt something strange stirring recently, and it frustrated him that he couldn't name what it was. His desire to be in constant control did have its downside, after all. His left hand touched the box of cigarettes in his vest pocket, contemplating a smoke. However, something stopped him. In an alley not far off, there was a flash of light, and then a scream of pain like that of a wild animal.

000

All Rayven could see was blood. All she could feel was agony. The right sleeve of her hoodie hung empty and soaked in blood at her side. She was slumped on the ground, writhing in pain. She screamed again and again, searing, burning pain filling her body. Her left hand flew to her shoulder, clutching at the bloody stump where her right arm had been. She screamed even louder with the realization; her right arm was gone. Her mind whirled and reeled in panic, nerves overloaded in pain. She twisted on the ground, staining her clothes with dirt and her own blood. "Please!" the coherent part of her mind cried. "Someone! Help me! HELP ME!"

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She managed to turn her head, and saw someone standing in the mouth of the alley. Rayven's glasses had fallen away, and her eyes were blurred with tears; she couldn't make out any defining features. She pleaded with the person with wordless cries, begging in her agony for any kind of help. Finally, she managed to get out a single, rasping word. "Please!" she whimpered. Then, the pain overtook her, and darkness claimed Rayven once again.

000

For an instant, Greed stared in surprise at the sight before him. The young woman's right shoulder bled heavily, soaking the gray, hooded jacket that she wore with crimson. Her face was pale with blood-loss and pain, her movements jerky. A pair of glasses was beside her on the ground, and she gazed up at him with wide, frightened green eyes. Her throat rasped as she tried to speak, finally getting out the word, "please!" Her cry was so small and pleading, and her beautiful, round face was contorted with fear and pain.

Then the woman collapsed, taken by merciful unconsciousness. Greed moved forward without another moment of hesitation. He scooped the woman up in his lean arms, and grabbed up the bag that she had had slung over her shoulder, as well as the glasses that were obviously hers. Using one arm, Greed pressed the woman's bloody sleeve against what was left of her right arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Then he was on the rooftops, leaping quickly in the direction of his hideout, the bar known as the Devil's Nest. The part of Greed's mind that was not concentrated on the bleeding young woman in his arms wondered exactly why he was doing this. The woman wasn't one of his followers, the Chimeras that he had freed from Lab Five, nor was she someone that he knew. There was no reason that to help her. But now that he had picked her up, he couldn't exactly drop her. Shaking his head to clear it, he sped up, moving as quickly as he could; the girl had already lost a lot of blood.

Then, an idea occurred to the Homunculus. If he could convince the girl to help him, she could be useful to his plans. She would need a replacement limb; automail—a prosthetic made entirely of metal—would be best. Greed thought of the fox Chimera, Ara; she had been an automail mechanic before she joined the army, and then been turned into a Chimera. If Greed got the woman to Ara quickly, Ara could fit the woman with a prosthetic that could be used. His mind made up, he continued on his way.

000

Martel, the snake Chimera, Ara, the fox Chimera, and the ex-State Alchemist, Zolf J. Kimblee were the only ones in the bar when Greed burst in, a very bloody young woman in his arms. Martel and Ara were on their feet in an instant, hurrying over to their leader. Kimblee stayed where he was. It was Ara who spoke. "Greed, who—?" she began, but Greed cut her off.

"Ara, fit this girl with automail," their leader instructed, handing the young woman over to the tall, crimson-eyed fox Chimera, "now." Ara looked at him, and then at the young woman in her own arms. She said nothing, only nodding as she whirled around and fled the bar, vanishing down into the maze of underground hallways and rooms that hid Greed and the Chimeras from those who might do them harm. Greed sighed, walking over to the bar and sitting down on a stool. "Damn, what a night," he muttered. His own clothes were stained with blood, but he paid not attention. Kimblee, who stood behind the bar, poured a whiskey, and handed it over to the Homunculus.

"Who is she?" the alchemist asked.

Greed shrugged. "Dunno," he supplied. "She asked for help, and I couldn't just let a pretty girl like that die."

Martel snorted as she took up a seat on a stool beside her boss. "Leave it to you to give an answer like that," she said with a wry smile. Then she gestured at his bloody clothes. "You should do something about that," she said. "You can't just go running around covered in blood. You'll catch attention." Greed looked at Martel with a raised brow. "Or, more attention than usual," Martel amended. He smirked into his drink, the ice cubes clicking together in the amber liquid.

000

Ara stripped the girl's torso down to her black sports bra, tossing the bloody clothes aside in a pile next to her bag and glasses. She quickly bound the girl's arm after cleaning away most of the blood. It looked as if the girl's arm had been cut away about seven inches down the shoulder. But, oddly, all the edge was perfectly straight, as if cut by a single swipe of a razor-sharp blade. She frowned as she measured the girl's arm and picked out the automail parts that she would need. Glancing at the girl, Ara gave a sad smile. "You're lucky that you're unconscious, kid," she murmured. "Connecting nerves to wires is not a pleasant process to endure."

000

Greed wandered into the room as Ara was washing the blood from her hands. She glanced up, and found herself looking at a shirtless Greed leaning against the doorframe. He eyed the still unconscious young woman, eyes focusing on the automail limb that had taken the place of her right arm. He knew there would be trouble when she woke up, and he sighed. He walked forward and picked up her bloody clothes. They were wet, and the blood wasn't as thick on the fabric as it had been, suggesting that Ara had tried to wash them. Greed decided to throw the girl's clothes in with his own; the Chimera washing his clothes was quite adept at getting out blood and other stains. Giving the girl once last look, Greed walked back towards the door.

Ara's voice stopped him. "Hey, Greed," she said, "I think you should see this." Greed turned to see Ara holding up a worn blue book, the faded cover spotted with blood. "This was in her bag," Ara said. "It's a book of advanced alchemy."

His eyes narrowed. He walked forward and took the book from Ara's hands. He opened it, and flipped through the pages. "What's someone like her doing with a book like this?" he muttered, half to himself. Then, something in the book caught his eye. He spread the page out, looking closely at it.

A jolt went through the Homunculus as he recognized the diagram; the transmutation circle. Shoving the book back into Ara's hands, Greed strode over to the girl's side. He reached out and grabbed her left hand, pulling it to him. "Damn," he breathed, gazing at the girl's palm, "it really is."

Etched onto the smooth skin of he girl's palm was the same transmutation circle that he had just been looking at in the book. The complicated design was hard to read on the her skin, but Greed knew it all the same. "The Key to Immortality," Greed murmured, a note of awe in his voice. Then, his eyes lit up, burning with ambition and excitement. Ara had never seen that look in her leader's eyes, and it sent a small tremble of fear through her body.

000

Rayven's eyelids fluttered, and she squinted against the light that shown red through her eyelids. She was lying on something soft, and some kind blanket was pulled up to her waist. There was something cold pressing against her right side, and there was a dull ache in her right shoulder. Her right shoulder… Rayven's eyes snapped open, memories flooding back.

000

Greed leaned against the wall of the small room where the as of yet nameless young woman had been placed. A single mattress was set in the upper right-hand corner of the small, twelve-by-twelve-foot room. A lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a yellowish orb of light. He stood at the foot of the young woman's bed, one leg bent and foot pressed up against the wall. Occasionally, he would glance down at the woman. She had shifted from unconsciousness to sleep, and her chest rose and fell regularly. Greed walked over and squatted down on the balls of his feet, eying the girl over the rims of his small, round sunglasses. He rested his elbows on his knees, leanly muscled arms extending outward.

Now that Greed could get a proper look at her, he found that the young woman was quite pretty. She had a round face, with a delicate chin. Her shapely nose was straight and dusted with freckles that were repeated on her pink cheeks. Her eyelashes were long and dark, her dark eyebrows gently arched over large eyes that Greed remembered as a deep, emerald green. Her skin was pale, though not in an unhealthy way. Her clothes had been washed—there were no longer any traces of blood—and she was wearing her blue top, the right sleeve rolled up to the elbow, exposing the automail that Ara had constructed.

Greed couldn't help but admire the Chimera's work; she had an automail leg of her own, and always kept it in peak condition. Of course, this wasn't the final piece of work, more bare bones functional than anything. Ara had had only minimal materials to work with, and so newer pieces would be needed to make better, more professional end result. It would be expensive, but for Greed, that wouldn't be a problem

Then, without warning, the young woman sat bolt upright, eyes wide. She saw Greed, and cried out in fear. She scrambled backwards on the mattress until her back came up against the wall. Her wide green eyes glanced down at her right arm, and all color drained from her face. She pushed herself to the edge of mattress and vomited, body trembling and shaking. Greed moved to her side and held her hair from her face as she threw up again. Her body was taken by dry heaves for several moments before she recovered. Greed eased her back onto the mattress, keeping his eyes on her pale, drawn face.

000

Rayven couldn't get her mind to focus on anything after she had emptied her stomach onto the floor. She looked through blurry eyes at the man who had held back her hair, waiting for her emotions to come. She could feel only confusion, and even as she tried to grip at memories, they slipped through her fingers like water. Everything was numb, the feelings she'd had an instant ago gone.

As she stared at the man, he spoke, voice smooth and yet somehow rough at the same time. "You okay, doll?" he asked. He knew she wouldn't be okay for a while; she would be in severe pain, and very likely traumatized, but he had asked anyway.

Her mind was swept clean by the man's voice. Her eyes went wide in fear, and her body went tight. She shoved herself up and away from the wall, scrambling from the mattress and out into the middle of the room. She whirled around to stare at the man, her vision blurry without her glasses. Her feet were bare on a cold, concrete floor, and her body shook. Her eyes flew from side to side, seeing the doorway that led out into a hallway.

She made a dash for the doorway, but the man was before her in an instant. He gripped her shoulders firmly, looking down into her eyes. This close, Rayven could see that the man's eyes were a sharp piercing amethyst, the pupils silted. Skills that she hadn't used in years flooded back to her, and she grabbed the man by the shoulders and brought her knee up. She yanked him down and slammed his chest into her knee, driving the air from his lungs and making him release her.

In the blink of an eye, she had pushed past him and out into the hallway. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, pumping adrenaline into her body. She turned to the left and started running, mindless of the rough floor that hurt her feet. She ran as fast as she could, skidding around a corner. She let out a cry of surprise as a woman met her. Rayven noticed only the woman's short, sandy hair before she lunged forward, trying to skirt around her.

"Martel! Stop her!" someone yelled.

The woman reacted with inhuman speed, her arms reaching out and catching Rayven around the waist. She kicked and struggled, beating at the woman as she was pulled up against her chest. Grunting against Rayven's blows, the woman turned the girl around to face her, and pinned her arms to her sides, holding her in an iron grip. Tears bloomed in Rayven's eyes as she struggled. "Let me go!" she whimpered. "Please, let me go!"

When the woman spoke, her tone was kind. "Hey, easy there," she murmured. "We aren't going to hurt you. It's okay." Rayven hiccupped, craning her neck around to look up into the woman's eyes. There was kindness in the olive green depths, and the woman gave a half smile when she looked up at her. "I'm not going to hurt you, okay? You were badly hurt, but Ara fixed you up. You're gonna be alright." Gently, the woman released her, instead putting her hands gently on Rayven's shoulders. "Look, you're free, see? I know you're scared, believe me, I know. But I need you to calm down." Rayven took several deep breaths and nodded, though there was still fear in her eyes. "My name is Martel. What's yours?"

The young woman had to swallow twice before answering. "R-Rayven," she said softly, biting her bottom lip. "Rayven Bek."

"Rayven?" a man's voice said from behind Rayven. "Nice name." Rayven gasped and whirled around. She found herself looking at the fuzzy shape of the man from before. She bit her lip and tried to keep herself from shaking. The man walked forward, and held out his hand. Rayven couldn't help a sigh of relief when she saw that he was holding her glasses. With a murmur of thanks, Rayven took her glasses and put them on.

Past the smudges on the lenses, Rayven saw a very odd man standing before her. His features were hard and angular, though not unattractive. A strange red mark adorned the back of his left hand. He was tall, his close-cropped hair dark brown. He was clad in a sleeveless navy shirt and a black vest with a light gray fur collar. He also wore a pair of green-black leather pants and strange boots that curved slightly upward at the toe.

There were leather bracelets wrapped around his left wrist, the adornments only bringing Rayven's attention back to the odd mark on the back of his hand. It was a red serpent, curved around in a circle, making to devour its own tail. There were wings above it, and a six-pointed star made up of two triangles within the circle the serpent's body made. Rayven finally recognized the symbol. "An Oroborus…" she murmured, voice hardly a whisper. She looked back up at the man, who was now regarding her from behind circular sunglasses that she hadn't noticed before.

"The name's Greed," the man said, giving Rayven a nod. "Sorry if I scared you, doll." She bit her lip, lowering her head, muttering something that sounded like an apology. Greed blinked. He reached out, taking Rayven's chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently lifting her face up to his. "Hey, now," he said, giving her a roguish smile, "there's no need for that."

Rayven felt her cheeks blush as she looked up into Greed's face. He wasn't that much taller than her, and he did seem an attractive man, now that she really looked at him. And that grin; it made Rayven's heart beat a little faster and made her cheeks darken. She offered him a small smile. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand, and I'm…" She trailed off; the last thing she wanted was to admit to being scared. Her brows furrowed and she bit her lip, looking away. Finally, swallowing her pride, Rayven continued. "I'm scared. My arm, it—"

She broke off and looked down, her stomach tightening as she saw the metal limb that protruded from her sleeve. Slowly, she took hold of the loose sleeve of her faded blue shirt and pulled it up. Her knees almost buckled when she saw the place where the prosthetic was clamped onto her skin. Healing stitches and swollen stripes of skin peeked out from beneath the cold, gray metal that was attached to her shoulder. Rayven touched the metal with trembling fingers. "It's so cold," she whispered, looking up at Greed with wide, frightened eyes.

"It's automail," Greed explained. "I found you in an alley with your arm… missing." He grimaced as the color drained from Rayven's face. "Don't you know what happened? How you lost your arm?"

Rayven put her hand to her head, running metal fingers through her dark brown hair. "It was black, and there was some kind of… figure. It called me 'Key', and said to be what it made me to be. I don't understand any of this." She looked imploringly up at Greed. "What's going on?"

Greed grimaced and looked away. "If that mark I saw is what I think it is, then you've been brought here from another world."