Project 4.

Summary (just in case you're having doubts about reading this):

This is an AU/crossover and is set in the Brotherhood.

Carmine N. Havoc, from the Darker than Black series, is going nowhere and really doesn't care. She's stop progressing in life and so far, that's how she wants it. Her husband was killed under mysterious circumstances, and why actually try when there's a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of scotch lying on the table? That's when her previous drinking buddy gave a call one late night, and now she has to babysit. Freaking great.

Enjoy the show, kids.

"Ally to good, nightmare to you." -Goku

She pulled her cigarette from her petal-lips, bringing it out to the side as a puff of silvery smoke exited as a result from the action. Tapping the burning object against the railing the woman was leaning on, it effectively dropped the loose ash that almost landed on her when the wind picked up the particles and swept off. The manicured-black-colored nails she possessed reflected the moon shining over-head, though; it was partly hidden from the gray clouds above, hauntingly beautiful.

A pale face, that occupied a rosy and hazy blush that came natural from standing in the cold too long, had a blank expression as she stared at the river flowing south-wards. It was dark in color, yet retained that deep blue that no doubt held a chilling promise of death within minutes. She had been out here for too long, yes, but there was something deep inside that was being unwilling to enter the apartment that was nothing but a picture of loneliness.

What had started as waking from a horrendous night-terror came to being motionless statue outside the building on a winter's night. The woman had opened her eyes to the land-lord shaking her awake quite violently and threatening and eviction had she kept up any longer. Of course the promises were always empty, and if it weren't for being so numb to the things around her at the time, she would've seen the concern hidden in the eyes of the elder lady's eyes.

After an hour of lying in the bed without moving, the next choice of option was to grab the alcohol—if there was any left, that is—and drown the obvious sorrows back down into her depths of emotional bank. However, luck was not on her side of course, and while there was nothing of what she searched for, there was a new pack of cancer-sticks on the wooden table in the kitchen, which was grabbed without a second thought.

Though a bit sleepy and anxious, the woman did get enough sense through her pounding head to retrieve a coat, boots, and scarf to shield some parts of the body as she slinked through the apartment door and out the building. That's how this scene started, now, and here she was, shivering and cold yet stubborn to go in. Yet if she did indeed get sick, that would mean Central would know about it eventually and take a visit, and that was really unwanted.

Small, adult hands loosened the grip on the cigarette and watched with veteran orbs as the small thing flew to the ground as gravity over-took the role willingly. A black combat boot snuck out from the long, maxi-coat and snuffed the tiny flame out, killing it instantly in a heartbeat. She leaned back from the railing and took a long, needed breath after the habit was finished, feeling the emotions from earlier come to a low rumble beneath her skin.

It was better than nothing and she wasn't going to waste a couple of more hours conscious or rather sleepless. She had been down that road, and once was enough for her. Moving a leg that had been locked was not entirely easy after a while, but a popping sound was heard and mobility became a bit more doable.

Turning and striding for the wanted location, hands were put in fluffy pockets and the scarf fluttered regularly when the breezes picked up and slowed to a hum. This was the time of year that made nights longer, days shorter and temperatures reach nearly freezing—depending on where you were in Amestris. So was things began to change along with the seasons, so did the dreams, or actually, nightmares.

They were souvenirs of the old days, constant windows to the way her life used to be. Not that it wasn't minded, for the woman preferred the current situation to then, yet when the memories that weren't craved came back to remind her that some things were missing; and that struck a chord every damn time. They were always there, waiting till the guard was dropped and swooped in like a hawk to sink its claws into her heart.

Pulling a key from the depths of the coat and sliding it through the lock and twisting, the small woman entered the apartment building and mutely skulked up the main stairs, avoiding the third to last one that creaked beyond loudly. It was able to wake the heavens and even the Smiths next door to her place, who were so close to going to the former that it seemed that even the next morning was a stretch.

This area was full of odd people, all coming together in a rag-tag-like community; sharing clothes, food, water, and even beds. Drugs were off limits here, for it was a military-operated residence that provided shelter to men and women who had or is still working for the Fürher and the government. Though smoking was allowed, it was pushing it and the rules were to be only outside when doing the deed.

Pets were also in the rules, if they were trained if possible—for there was no need to have a barking, small dog in a room, keeping everyone up at night. The rent here was durable for anyone struggling with a low-paying job and bills, though having children along with that list was a no-no as well. For families had other assigned buildings they stayed at all over the country; and this was the place of single-life.

This time, pastel hands switched to the other key on the silver ring, and repeated the process from earlier, but this time it required another lock to turn below the first one. It was common among military to be so heavy duty in security, even in housing. The black, timber door creaked open with a tiny groan, and she entered the small area that was the living room and shed the maxi-coat quietly. Using a boot-covered foot, it swung out behind her and shut the piece of wood to a close, though it did create a minimum to none bang afterwards.

The apartment was normal in appearance, with white walls and light wooden floors accommodating them; brown furniture (as sparse as it was), with minor dust areas here and there. She was not the cleanest person in the world, but did indeed keep her living space neat when it was possible.

The woman entered the bedroom off to the right, taking off the rest of the cold, winter-wear as she went. The bed was a bit small for an average; grown human and made from the age-old brass the factory probably had lying around that day and then decided to use the thinnest mattress that ever lived.

Just add another thing to the list of what makes her back hurt and neck in the condition that resembles a crooked giraffe. Eyes traveled towards the cracked dresser that held portraits and other necessities that a normal woman needed. Giving an exhale and a pre-bed stretch, she pushed the itchy, grey covers back far enough so it was easy to slip in between.

Those were a gift from an old friend who knew how to knit (actually their skills were pretty shoddy but she didn't say anything and took the offered object) and were probably the only high quality blanket owned by her. The sheets were cotton and handmade as well but from her foster-mother that somehow ended up on her kitchen table from the daily mail.

Plopping down on the pillow with a silent breathe, jade-orbs closed, letting out every tension within her body as it relaxed into the cushions. Then, as the darkness slowly crawled over the muscles she felt the calmness that didn't promise nightmares and sleepless hours till the sun rise. Instead, the tiredness that was imbedded so deeply began to migrate away from her bones.

A ringing suddenly enter her ears, making everything tense and become alert, instincts that had been honed over the years awoken from slumber and with eyelids still drawn downwards, her senses moved out, trying to detect the source of the noise. The louder it got, the more it dug into her ears, causing it to echo and hurt.

She swung her legs over the bed, grumbling and scowling, the woman stood grudgingly and hating the sore ache in the legs that always came from the cold floor. It's only been thirty minutes within from the moment she had entered the front door. This is a load of bull.

Her phone was going to wake everyone in a 4-floor radius and get complaints the next morning—the damn landlord is going to chew her out and possibly use that eviction-note threat that he always uses. Moving swiftly to the shrill noise, she thought of the small list of people that were able to contact her number, and especially at this time in the morning.

It's not that the woman was anti-social, yet more or less preferring to be left alone while working and getting things done on her own. Living single was a small detail that came along as well, yet she found herself not really caring at this point. It's been a couple of years since her last contact with an actual person besides the Fürher and his assistant, and even then it's not like they shared an actual conversation.

Grabbing the black hook, pale hands picked up the device quickly, bringing one part of it to her ear and the other to her mouth in the classic fashion, and without missing a beat, petal-lips opened, "Carmine N. Havoc currently speaking."

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" a deep, baritone voice replied instantly, having an underlying humor hidden beneath the professional quality.

She found jade orbs that were so heavily fringed with black eyelashes widening, and her heart nearly froze, skipping a beat (maybe three) as it did so. Swallowing at shock embedded in the throat, the female turned to a picture frame hanging on the wall next to her. "May I ask who this is?" Praying that is wasn't who she thought it was.

"I knew you had disappeared off the map, I just didn't think it'd be this easy to find you." The same male chuckled, somehow finding this whole thing amusing.

While her voice was creaky and a bit hoarse from smoking and not using it as often as a normal person should, she had to refrain from screaming in frustration and instead spoke very low, "It will not be pretty if I have to repeat myself."

The response was almost immediate, "Alright, alright, you have your way, Carmine. It's me, Roy Mustang."

There was almost a groan in frustration from her; damn this man and his connections. He probably had the best in Amestris, knowing that bastard and his ways. She hasn't seen or talked with him in almost five years, going on six and he suddenly gives her a call?

"The hell you want, Colonel?"

"Such hostility from a young lady—…"

Green eyes flashed and narrowed dangerously at the man standing in the picture before her, "I'm not a girl, out of everyone that knows me; you should have the most knowledge that I out-grew that little title years ago."

"Most people that know you are dead," she heard him grumble and with a sigh and cough from the other side, he replied, "I humbly apologize to my dearest friend about that honorific, please forgive me."

Now he's being an ass. "You called me at four in the morning?"

"Yes what about it?"

A vein pulsed over her head, and an eyebrow twitched at how casually he dismissed the fact that he woke her up and is now being an annoying, piece-of—she quickly put the cap on her anger in favor of getting to the point of this short talk. "I'm going to hang up unless you have a reason why you did so."

"Yes well, I have a favor that I need to ask of you." That got him talking, and while it was subtle, at least he wasn't being a jerk about it.

She raised an eyebrow, shifting her weight to the other foot, "What makes me want to do you anything you want?"

"Are you on a job currently?"

"Negative."

"Busy on some project?"

"That's a no."

"Planning to do anything for the rest of the year and maybe a little afterwards?"

"Unfortunately I don't."

"How are those 'hobbies' holding up?"

"Gave up on the first day, like my diet, life and rehab consideration."

"Spending most of you money on smokes?"

"When I have the time, yes."

"Bored out of your mind, Major?"

The woman clenched the phone pieces, resisting the urge to bang her head on the wall beside her. He had trumped the conversation without too much trouble and was now going to get what was desired obviously. "What's it to you, Mustang?"

"I have the perfect job for you!" Roy sang happily, becoming too loud for the liking and just a bit smug. "When is the quickest time you can make it to East City?"

"Why would I do such a thing when I don't even know what you're going on about—…?"

"I'll be paying for the ticket."

"Deal," she heard a face-fault on the other side of the line and thought he deserved it. Though the man will be complaining about his face at a later date (probably when she gets there), and try to get some sympathy out of it. "I'll be there in a couple of days, perhaps two if I leave now."

The Colonel sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Then do so and please hurry."

"Is it that urgent?"

"There is a man seen spotted here and is currently going after State Alchemists, one of which is recently dead."

Crime in Amestris was common within the country; robbing a bank and stealing a purse was on thing here, though mass homicide on multiple Majors in the army was another. It was odd for her to think this, but, why would someone actually commit murder on the Dogs of the Military one after the other and continue to do so without any real objective? Yet, they might have one in a sense, but just how twisted is it to make them think it was a good plan?

Not wanting to make his mood worse since it had taken a bad turn, she replied, "Yeah, I heard of him, I'll be there soon enough."

Carmine put the receiver down, staring at it like a venomous snake and gently closed the phone-call. Pulling a string of stray hair from her face and behind a single-pierced ear, she turned and made the trip to the bathroom that was adjoining the single-bedroom. The earrings came from a friend a long time ago who thought they'd go along with her hair nicely.

Though it was her birthday and she had no way to decline it politely, the woman took them happily anyway and locked them in a cheap, music chest deeply hidden in the closet. Then something had come along, and out of grief and guilt, she hunted them down and wore them since that day, never once taking them off.

They were a light, pearl-green, reflecting off any light that happened to dance across them and came in the shape of stars with the numbers 201 printed on in roman-numerals. They were non-dangling, so were easy to have day to day life, even in the military, although it became a close call every so often when they called inspection among the Alchemists.

Switching the light in the bathroom, her reflection immediately became center of attention and she gazed impassively. Crimson hair that was choppy and silky reached her fragile-looking shoulders, and bangs shadowed her face and forehead, all multiple lengths. A heart shaped face, button nose, and finally large, doe-like eyes that held the color of sea green and were outlined by a heavy set of lashes.

Pretty much ordinary to put bluntly, since there was nothing extremely outrageous in her appearance that caught people's attention. Sure, there were a few brave who gave the custom compliment, but that was it—because it was simple, she was plain.

Grasping a duffel bag that was hidden behind the door and piling things that were needed for the trip, a mental check-list appeared before her, helping along the way. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, (women items), tooth-brush, hair-brush and hair-ties…mumbling to herself while dropping each objects into the bag. There was no specific time-limit on this, and she really didn't feel like going anywhere else in East City to get things. It was an unknown area and a little bit bigger than the North anyway.

Afterwards, Carmine moved backwards, shutting off the light and closing the door almost silently and glided to her closet. Upon reaching there, she grabbed various clothing and shoes (that were almost the same in color and type) and went to the dresser to get other girl items. That's when a picture sitting on top of the furniture got her attention; it was of her younger days, when Roy was a bit nicer and not so much of a womanizer and Armstrong—who undoubtedly didn't change—posed heavily at the camera taking it while she was stuck in the middle with many Alchemists around them.

They weren't smiling, nor frowning, but were just kind of…there, in a way. The higher-ups needed this thing taken for precaution and just in case MIA or KIA occurred, so they were assembled from highest ranking to lowest in the back and told to stand still and stare at the photographer. It wasn't that it was annoying to do anything like it, however, it had the feeling of a cage, if put simply. That the picture was saying that you can't run away from your duties, nor ignore them during your assigned job and to look in the eyes of the people you kill so cruelly.

Packing done within ten minutes and shaking off the over-thinking bit, the red-head gathered a leather jacket off the floor and put it on over a white-tee (only to realize she needed a bra subsequently and had to take a few moments to fix that) and then yank a black belt on over her grey sweatpants. Had to look at least somewhat professional when seeing an old friend for the first time in years, right?

Snorting without humor, she tied combat boots on tightly and looped on the maroon scarf from earlier before heading to the living room to fish out a hand-gun. When everything was complete (somewhat and a bit rag-tagged), the woman headed out the door quietly, leaving the heavy coat behind and skulking down the stairs.

/Break/

The city in the North had begun waking up upon the arrival at the station, orange, pink and red rising over the grey clouds that hung low daily and street lamps being lit by early workers. It was a bit self-run, actually, the natives that live here survived off the land almost like scavengers and always struggled to pay taxes that the military had set up. Eventually, the small area rebelled and protested for some equality, causing tension in the places nearby and threats of murder.

To quell the people and calm down the relationship, the Fürher sent a team of alchemists to take up residence here, and give aid while being stationed. The citizens didn't take too kindly to the Dogs, but with compromise and negotiation, the official Mayor of the Crescent-Star eventually got everyone to get along, with some major difficulty. Although being talked down to, none of the Majors took advantage of anything and always worked hard enough to be rewarded for dinner.

Over time, respect for both sides grew and the higher-ups saw this as an opportunity to send more and more things there such as supplies, buildings, labs, electricity, and other important technologies that every native benefited off of. This city became one of the best known for vacations during winter and spring, where both heavy snows fell and the world's most beautiful flowers bloom to be the best. The economy was rich (as wealthy as something as small as the town was) and so was the food and people.

Thus why so many lodgings in the military branch were built here and why railroads were constructed to all the major areas like, Central, East City and North City. There were a total of three different stations in Crescent-Star, all heading in opposite directions and stretched onto miles in the distance, often blurry to see thanks to the snow or rain, depending on the season.

Carmine was currently sitting on a worn out, wooden bench at the East City Station, leaning on her arms that rested on legs comfortably as the morning air threatened to take her away into slumber.

"Excuse me miss," she jumped in the seat and turned to the offender quickly, making said person take a step back. It was a person; that much was expressed, but whether the gender was female or male made her pause. They had hip-length green hair that was spiked, pale skin that was incredibly flawless, purple eyes that reminded her of lavender, and they were wearing something akin to a skirt and a crop top that was the color of black.

"Yes, may I help you?" the woman replied after a few seconds, pretending to get over shock while observing the other. "You gave me quite the scare, you know."

They chuckled, and she figured it must've been a man or, roughly somewhat like that which wasn't very surprising to her. "I apologize for the early heart-attack, but I have a question." Violet orbs narrowed as he spoke with a smile. "You are a state-alchemist, correct?"

She paused, this wasn't the normal: "are you famous?" enquiry that was often asked among the military when they saw her. "Who wants to know, exactly?"

"Depends…"

"On the fact that I'm going to beat the-ever-flying-crap-out-of-you because I'm not getting answers."

There was a tense silent as the man stared at her with an intense expression that Carmine almost drew-back in surprise. Then he laughed loudly, doubling over from the mirth, making her somewhat glad no one around town was up yet. "Man, I didn't know the Hurricane Alchemist would have this much life in her."

"How in Heaven's Gate did you find that out?" that title hasn't been spoken in a very long time, after she bargained the Fürher to change her nickname to the Wreaking-Havoc Alchemist, a pun on her name and profession. Then, the man in power erased her former title from every piece of record and changed it to the newer one. Only a few still knew of it and the dark things that still followed her.

"Before we go any further into the topic, let me introduce myself." He gestured to himself in a very vain way, "I am Envy, nice to finally meet you."

"Do I need an introductory?"

"It would be polite."

Green eyes rolled to the gray skies above, "I'm Carmine N. Havoc, and pleasure is never mine."

The man that went by Envy settled his hands on his hips in a jolly manner and went about speaking, "There, now we both have names and somewhat of some information exchange, I wanted to speak with you."

No that this was any real concern of hers but…why would a man randomly show up (sneak out of nowhere, actually) and know some things about the past and continue on like it was nothing? It wasn't really important that he knew of the Hurricane title, yet the real problem is why or how he got a hold of it. The only reason she didn't go ballistic was because the person before her didn't give off a vibe that said a 'bad human-being' yet more like 'unidentified individual'.

Normally, that would be very troubling had he not given her his name, "About what, exactly? We should hurry since I've got a train coming."

"Yes, yes, of course!" Envy replied in a haughtiness tone, taking a seat on the arm of the bench next to her and crossing his legs. "What do you know of the Philosopher's Stone? I've hear rumors that you once had a full library on it, but it was all burned down years ago by your late husband."

She shrugged and folded her arms, "Not much research was actually founded, since most of it was the same things you hear from scientists today. However, there was another alternative way to creating a genuine one, but Mao took that with him to the grave."

The wind around the two shifted almost, and blew her red-hair around the face, making it hard to see. It was chilly all of a sudden, warning them that a storm was inbound later that day.

"Any chance you might be able to recover those secrets he once had?" the pale figure asked patiently, looking across the station with disinterest.

Carmine took a second to think, "I would need to locate his previous lab he had when working with the military a while back, but I don't think I can get that kind of clearance, even being friends with the Fürher can only get you so far."

"What's the need of entering there?" lavender orbs turned to stare at her from the corner of his eyes, looking curious. "Wouldn't someone have cleaned it out by now?"

"No, his office was connected to it," she said, readjusting her jacket, "and since I'm his widow, after he was KIA, I get the rights of the research area."

"So why would you need permission if it's yours?"

"They had guards standing in front of the doors when I tried to see if I could pick up any remnants there a few months ago." Her eyes narrowed, "the two giants told me that I wasn't allowed and I needed to go back home and grieve like the good little widow I was. I hadn't come back since."

"If I could get you in there somehow…" she turned her head slowly to him, trying to see his motive. Yet he showed nothing, truly a master at the poker face for someone so—young?

The sound of a train in the distance registered in her mind, and it quickly became apparent that this conversation wouldn't last for much longer. "You would want something in exchange, I assume?"

"If you'd be so kind, since it's only fair," Envy smiled, the expression stuck between sly and friendly and she couldn't decide which.

"What would you want, hypothetically speaking?"

"Well, I would say your late-husband's research, but that's not needed; for it's a bit dated with the times now-a-days, so if you do agree, I'll get back to you on that."

Carmine stared at him blankly. "You're the one who's making the agreement, yet you don't know what you want on your end of the bargain?"

The stranger laughed again, a bit louder this time so she could hear it over the train that was getting closer. "How about we save this for another time, hmm?"

"I don't mind, now if you'll excuse me," the red-haired replied, standing with the duffel bag in one hand, and the other with a briefcase. "I'll be heading to East City if you need me."

He grinned and waved as she stepped onto the type of transport, "Have a great time fixing up that murder case!"

She almost fell forward upon hearing that, inner intuition screaming at her that this wasn't a good sign? Had the man heard about them from a friend from the inner-military? Or was it all over the news now? Surely not, for this was an extreme case of Alchemist killings, so the Fürher wouldn't dare make it public if the murderer had not been caught.

So how did that bastard know?

I don't know, how does the the walking-tree know?

Review and ask questions, otherwise, how will I know to answer? I can't read minds like Charles Xavier.

Thanks for reading, though, you guys are the best.