The Alchemists: The Legacies We Make (Old Version)

by SkyFallSlayer

Summary:

Waking up 70 years later, Roy Mustang, Aka: Captain Amestris, finds himself trying to adjust to modern day like a regular citizen. That is, until the man who welcomed him into this new world asks him for his help to save it, all while forging new alliances with people who don’t quite see eye to eye; And that includes a vengeful teenager out for blood that he might have to take under his wing. Well… I guess you gotta start somewhere in this crazy world.

(Or, The Avengers AU nobody asked for)

Notes:

Yep. The AU nobody asked me for. In this story FMA meets the MCU but with my own little twist. This story is mostly Roy Centric and follows most of the MCU storylines, but I'll change them up when the time's right. Get ready for team building, lost love, and a hundred year old man becoming a father to an orphan boy. Enjoy!

Warning: Brief Racism; References To Death/Dying; Brief Mention of Being Burned; Mentioning of Major Injuries. Read At Your Own Risk!

Chapter 1: Prologue: After The Cold Slumber

 

---

.

 

[ “Listen closely, son. No matter how many times you get pushed down, never give up.” ]

 

.

 

[ “He looks like one of our enemies! Nothing about him screams Amestrian.” ]

 

.

 

[ “I’m not looking for a good soldier, I’m looking for a good man.” ]

 

.

 

[ “You’re an embarrassment. Do not disobey my direct orders!” ]

 

.

 

[ “I’m not following the super soldier, I’m following the skinny kid from Central.” ] 

 

.

 

[ “Take my hand! Take it! Quickly! Please!!!” ]

 

.

 

[ “I’m sorry… I’m gonna have to put a rain check on that dance.” ]

 

.

.

.

 

A feeling of warmth is what woke him up. Like a blanket bathing in the high sun to dry. It was much different from what he felt earlier. Earlier he was…

 

Cold.

 

Numb.

 

Drenched. 

 

His surroundings were calm, not scary like it was earlier. He couldn’t hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He can’t recall the sound of glass breaking, and a burning smell itching his nose. Like burning rubber or oil Or maybe even flesh .

 

Strange.

 

Very strange.

 

Extremely strange. 

 

It was definitely an odd feeling, yet he felt so at peace. But even peace couldn’t keep his body relaxed long enough, as his mind started nagging him to move. 

 

Get up. 

 

Run.

 

His body and brain started to scream. 

 

‘Move! Get up! Run!’ It screams, but he just… just…

 

Why? 

 

Why would he want to get up after being so damn comfortable after so long? Still, he had no control, no way to tell himself to shut up and lay down. He had no say in what his sixth sense was telling him to do. He groans and squirms annoyingly, suddenly feeling the light right over his shut eyes. He then started to feel more aware of his whole body laying on something unbelievably soft. Like a fluffy marshmallow slowly heating up on his mother’s wood burning stove. 

 

It felt almost wrong and out of place. Like his mind was tripping after a hangover, spinning as he tries to remember the night before. But this was no hangover, it was something that was deemed either as a blessing, a curse, or something bittersweet. To him? It would probably be the latter.

 

At least…

 

That's what he thought.

 

Oh, that’s right. He realizes, a frown tugging on his lips.

 

I’m dead. He starts seeing memories of his last night on this gorgeous green Earth. They surely weren’t the best, but at least he gets to see everyone again.

 

He let out a tiresome groan again, all his senses finally kicking in, the chemicals are starting to run hot through his veins (It started feeling like needles pinching his skin too, but he ignored that. He always ignores that) .

 

He manages to whisper his friend’s name, cracking open his coal eyes, trying to adjust to the bright light, waiting to see if he could see her beautiful silhouette.

 

She’s going to slap him for his “stupid” sacrifice. Then laugh, then cry, and then give him a big bear hug like nobody was watching. He could only imagine everyone else right now; What their reaction would be upon seeing him. His fallen comrades, his friends, and his family. He could imagine his father’s subtle and proudful smile; His mother sobbing happily and pinching his cheeks; His—

 

Wait. He thinks, cutting off his own thoughts almost immediately as he gazes up at the smooth white colored ceiling.

 

White colored ceiling.

 

A ceiling.

 

What the fuck…? He slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position, brows pushed together. This… this doesn’t make any sense to him.

 

Why does the afterlife look like a bedroom? 

 

This got him concerned, and confused in so many ways as he started looking around the room he was in. It was a decent size and the color of cream, with a window that shined out in a soundless city; A small dresser with a radio playing a baseball game. A game that sounds so… 

 

Familiar?

 

He cocks his head, and wants to listen to it as closely as possible, to figure out where he’s heard it before, until the door sprung wide open. He carefully watched as a petite, dark haired, brown eyed and sun kissed skin woman walked in; Her hair down and wavy, wearing a white collared shirt with a tie and a pencil skirt. 

 

She resembled someone he knew, someone who stood by him during the war. Someone who almost knew him better than himself sometimes. She looks like—

 

“Morning.” She greets, smiling. She quickly checks her watch and chuckles. “Or should I say afternoon.”

 

He frowns, not liking the unsettling feeling brewing in his gut. Who the hell was this? This was certainly not the woman he considered an acquaintance. 

 

A true friend.

 

He tightens his jaw, showing no mercy in his eyes. “Where am I?” He asks, almost like a demand. 

 

This was certainly not the afterlife. 

 

And if he was here and not there, then where the hell was here anyway? Unless…

 

His stomach tied back into knots. He starts fearing the absolute worst. There’s no way he lived and everyone else didn’t. There’s just no way.

 

“You’re in a recovering room in Central.” The woman replies, almost too quickly. Like it sounded rehearsed. Rehearsed for what reason? What was she hiding?

 

He unknowingly starts to clench one of his fists. There’s no way this was a recovery room. It was too… cryptic. He narrows his eyes again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

She chuckles sweetly. “I did.”

 

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, you–”

 

He pauses at the sound of a baseball making contact with the bat. The game on the radio peaked his interest once more. He listened intensely, his mind searching for answers, until something finally clicked deep inside. He knew this game. His father took him to this game after he got a small bonus at work. He’s lived through this wonderful day.

 

He’s lived through it already.

 

He kept his newfound fear under check, as his eyes trailed back at the woman, who dared to look like the dear Agent from his war days. His fight or flight instincts are starting to prepare on the back burner, ready to spring free at any moment.

 

“Where am I really?” He asks, trying again. There was more force in his tone this time, telling this imposter that he means business.

 

Still with that fake ass smile, the woman shakes her head a little in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

 

“The game. It’s from May, 1941. I know that because I was there.” He watches her face fall, and he stands up from the bed, using his towering form to intimidate. “Now I’m going to ask you again, where am I ? ”

 

Unknowingly to him, the woman was pressing a button to contact some guards. She swallows shakingly as he steps closer in her personal square.

 

“Captain Mustang–” She begins, using his rank and name.

 

“Who are you?!” Roy Mustang shouts, demanding where he was being held.

 

He didn’t like this. Not one bit. Where the fuck is he? He does his best to keep a straight face as his mind goes into overdrive to search for the lost answers. 

 

Maybe I WAS captured after the plane crash? Maybe we didn’t win the war after all. Maybe we– He rambles internally.

 

The door opened once more and he was met with people he did not know; people dressed in black with guns at their hips. Unfamiliar with the attire, because it did not look like it belonged to the Homunculi, nor looked Military at all. He takes a small step back, feeling overwhelmed and unsure. 

 

So he acted fast.

 

He’ll just call this pure adrenaline for right now, as he wrestles two guards through a wall. Roy was surprised to learn it came down with ease, revealing it to be nothing but a cheap prop. He wastes no time to hop out of the hole he created, spinning on the balls of his feet to examine the warehouse looking room they trapped him in; filled up with a big screen of the city that his “window” looked out to.

 

Confusion ran through his veins, and terror started to rise. He had no idea where he was, and why these people had contained him in some box, but his mind told that he just needed to get out of there. Every instinct in his body told him to go.

 

So he ran.

 

Roy ignored the lady shouting his title from across the room as he bolted through the doors. He stumbled into a hallway full of people, puzzled by the way they were dressed, and how the building was made up mostly of glass, but he couldn’t stop to think about it now. He didn’t have time to wonder where he was, and or wonder why he might be a POW. Now he must run for his life as more people dressed in black come running soon afterwards towards him. He shoves anyone who crosses his path, a killed or be killed mindset as he searches for an exit.

 

His eyes caught one soon enough, right before he could feel more people coming his way. He pushed open the see through doors to a crowded street, and cars that were different shades of colors, and buildings that could reach the stars.

 

Anxiety was rising again, and he bolted down the road, rushing past weird looking vehicles to another strange looking place. The only reason he starts to slow and apply the brakes when he realizes he has no fucking idea where he is. All he does know is that this place has colorful signs that move and glow, structures of odd shapes and sizes; The noise itself was so much louder than what he was used to. It hurt his sensitive ears that would soon give him a blistering headache. 

 

Wait… What… what the fuck? Where am I? He wonders, on the edge of hyperventilation. 

 

This was not the city he grew up in. This was not any place he was stationed at. This was not a place he knew. So where the hell was he?

 

Roy’s blood starts spiking again when he is suddenly surrounded by big cars that start pouring out men in suits. Were they here to take him back to wherever he was? That … that “hospital”?

 

He was about to make another run for it, because he knew he was much faster than these cars, than all these people. He knew he could run away from all this, but a voice behind advised him not to. 

 

“At ease, Soldier.” 

 

 

The raven haired man turns around, watching as another man wearing a trench coat strolling over slowly. He quickly takes note of his stoic face, and a patch over his left eye. The man looked a little menacing, if he said so himself.

 

“Who are you?” Roy asked, putting his guard back up. Maybe he could still make a break for it if he distracts him long enough to slip by. 

 

“Colonel King Bradley of SHIELD.” The man said, pulling him from his thoughts. “You would have known us as the Strategic Scientific Reserve.”

 

Would have known.

 

Those words echoed in his skull. It left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach again. He furrowed his brows at that. 

 

Would have known? What does he mean by that? He wonders.

 

Roy shakes his head, trying to tune out the noises and thoughts that plagued his mind. “Where am I?” He asked, hoping that this man wasn't another liar.

 

“46th and Broadway.” Bradley said, looking around, gesturing to the places with his eye. “I’m sorry about that little show back there, we didn’t know what your mental state might be, so we thought it would be best to break it to you slowly.”

 

This causes a head tilt again. This man wasn’t making any sense. What was he talking about?

 

“Break what?” Roy asked, skeptical.

 

He watches Bradley still, but he could hear that he took the quietest of exhales, and for a split second he looks hesitant to even tell him anything.

 

“You’ve been asleep, Cap. For seventy years.” 

 

Roy’s heart sank right to the ground.

 

No. That couldn’t be right.

 

He’s been asleep? Asleep for seventy years?

 

No. 

 

He couldn’t be. 

 

No. He…

 

He died . He died the moment he crashed that plane into the ocean.

 

The window cracking and shattering, and engines burning out as the cold water seeped in. He could still feel the shards of glass sticking in his porcelain skin. The burning sensation in the wounds he received. The feeling of his heart slowly going out. There was no way in any form of hell he could have survived that.

 

But here he is, confused, scared and alive in a city that claims to be Central City. He started shaking his head, trying to throw away the panic attack that was slowly crawling back.

 

“H-How am I alive?” He asks, puzzled as he touches his neck.

 

He still remembers Archer’s vicious attacks on him. The battle before the crash was intense before he got the chance to watch him disintegrate because of the ominous glowing cube. He could even still feel the unevenness of the spots on his skin, which was concerning. He didn’t even get the chance to look at himself properly after waking. How bad does his body look after a crash like that?

 

“Well…” Bradley begins, shifting a little. “To be honest with you, we really don’t know. My doc’s say it was suspended animation, the extreme cold, or could be something else. I don’t know.” His face softens a bit when he notices the way Roy’s touching his neck, continuing with, “All your wounds from the crash have surprisingly healed, but all the deeper cuts left scars, unfortunately.” 

 

Roy starts trying to process that through his head, but his mind is still stuck in his memories that felt like they just happened yesterday. “W-What about the war?” He asked, genuinely curious. “Did we win?”

 

“Hell, yeah. Unconditional surrender. And taking down Homunculus was a big part of that.” Bradley replies, reassuring the soldier. “But the world hasn’t changed all that much. There’s still a lot of work to be done. A soldier’s work.”

 

He stayed silent. Was the Colonel seriously asking him for his help? And after everything he just told him, he wants him to throw himself back on the battlefield so soon? It was ludicrous.

 

But Bradley kept going, despite the uncomfortable look upon his face. “The world could still use a person like you, Captain. I’ve seen your track record. It’s impressive.” He said, holding his hand out. Not wanting to be rude, Roy shook it despite being mad. “There’s a place here for you.”

 

He frowns, the uneasy feeling returning again as he starts taking in the surroundings. A place here? For him? Four decades off from being a whole century, he’s supposed to live here? In a city that doesn’t look like his anymore? He doesn’t even know where the hell to even start in a world that’s grown so much. How does Colonel expect him to live like this?

 

“Sure you’re alright?” Bradley asked, genuinely concerned.

 

‘No’, is what he wanted to say, but couldn’t utter the word. So instead…

 

He just told him a small lie. 

 

“Yeah.” He mutters, his mouth feeling dry. “Yeah. It’s just uh…” He shakes his head. “I just had um… some plans and uh...” There was a lump in his throat again. “A wedding.”

 

Or a funeral he should say, but he knew she wouldn’t want him to call it that. It was supposed to be their funeral, their moment to reunite in the afterlife. But it looks like he couldn’t even be granted that.

 

He could still picture her face in his mind. The bright, quiet and kind hearted person he fell in love with, before it all turned into pure horror as she plummeted down the cliff. He was so -fucking- close. So close to grabbing her before the railing gave out, and her voice carried across the ravine.

 

Guilt filled him up and his eyes started to sting with tears, but he couldn’t cry in front of a government agent ( at least not yet ). 

 

“A wedding?” Bradley asked, interested. 

 

“Yeah...”

 

He mentally sighs, heart hurting as he comes to a realization that this was it. He wasn’t going home. He wasn’t going home to his place in the forties. He wasn’t going to get to marry his Fiancé and have a family. He wasn’t going to close his eyes and wake up in the afterlife. He wasn’t going to do anything he ever dreamt about. He was stuck in a modern day world he knew nothing about, and he was going to have to deal with this feeling all alone.

 

He swallows again, more shaky, as he continues to wish that he truly died in that plane. For once, he wishes that he didn’t have the serum running through his veins, and healing his life-threatening injuries. He didn’t need that right now. All he wanted was to hold the people that are not even there with him anymore.

 

.

.

.

 

[ “You and me, Cap-” His blonde friend begins, resting her hand on his shoulder just before a mission. “Til’ the end of line.” ]

 

.

.

.

 

That memory came through and finally broke him all over again.

 

And no, Roy didn’t cry, or lash out.

 

He didn’t try to run away, or yell at Bradley.

 

No.

 

Instead he let out a painful scream in the center of his changing city.

Chapter 2: A Man Without A Plan

Summary:

Roy gets the reality check he needs while living in the modern day world.

Notes:

Here it is. Back with the AU nobody requested me to make. Sorry it took so long, I couldn't make up my mind where to end this chapter. I promise the next one will be longer, and hopefully comes out quicker. And thank you to @zerro_sense_of_direction for that wonderful comment last chapter. Made my day, and made me appreciate this AU even more than I already do. So thank you. Enjoy, my readers!

Warning: References To Death/Dying; Underlying Depression; Suicidal Thoughts; Mourning; A Little OOC. Read At Your Own Risk!

---

Four hours, 8 minutes, 7 seconds, 2 months, and 6 days since he awoke from his icy sleep. The sun was barely up, barely peeking over all the glass that surrounded his once calm-looking city. It was barely touching his windows, barely coming through his thick curtains, but Roy didn’t bother to turn on the lights. Why should he bother anyway? Could the darkness really hurt those enhanced eyes of his?

 

He sighs for the millionth time this morning. His fingers ghosting the electronic device he’s still trying to figure out after Colonel Bradley gave it to him. That, and he’s still too afraid to play the video it contained on a drive. The drive that was in a box gifted by SHIELD. The box was filled with dusty files and his things that managed to survive in storage after seventy years. He should be grateful ( is grateful ) that he's got something to help him remember his other time, but there was a string of guilt and sadness looming over it. Yet…

 

He really needs to see these things.

 

He fingers pressed down on one of the buttons, rolling the black and white video in front of him. He listens to every word of the announcer—

 

:

< War in the countries!

 

With the forces of darkness pressing in from the East, from the West, Amestris heats the call to fight for freedom. 

 

And at the front of the fight, shoulder-to-shoulder with our battling boys is Captain Amestris!

 

A product of old fashion values and exciting new science. Captain Amestris is the name every Cretan dares.

 

Unlaid in secret new weapons, no match fraud, and when tough times turned tougher, were hopes on the rope, here’s the band on the axis on an axis;

 

He’s out there fighting for the land we love, and he won’t stop–>

:

 

He hit the power button off, already detesting what he saw. Sure, it was a sweet little tribute to him, seeing all the shots of him fighting and saving, and stopping to talk to some civilians. But just after so long it just feels…

 

Wrong.

 

He stared at his reflection on the screen for longer than he had liked before he finally worked up the courage to look at the files stacked next to him. It makes him frown. He didn’t  like how thick some of them were. So he decided to try the ones that were thinner first, hoping that maybe it would be a little bit lighter to the stomach.

 

Boy he was wrong.

 

He saw faces of the men and women he worked with, the people he had chosen to help fight alongside him in the war. The Howling Commandos, they were dubbed. And from the big, red, bold capitalized lettering stretching across each of their photographs were a sign that they were gone. Deceased, it said.

 

Deceased. 

 

He wanted to scream. Scream at every description of their deaths. Some were KIA while still working for the military, some died of natural causes, fatal accidents, diseases. It was really frustrating. Sad that they were gone too soon. 

I should be gone too. The thought always crossed his mind. He hated to think so negatively, but can you blame him?

 

Then he sees another file, one that belonged to his commanding officer. General Philip Knoxs. His heart clenched when he saw the red letters. The poor man had died of cancer back in the 80s. 

 

The 80s. He wonders what that was like.

 

Another file, but instead of the red, it was blue ink written softly. It spelled out RETIRED. The file belonged to Noah P. Carter, the woman who believed in him before anybody else during his training. A true friend. His heart tightens again when his eyes land on her address and phone number. He almost cried when he found out that at least someone was still alive with him. However, how would he explain to her that he was alive after being declared dead?

 

He sets her file aside, putting her on the back burner for now. He opens another one, jaw almost dropping at this one. Another friend. The genius known as Denji B. Harnet. He gave Roy the vibranium shield and designed his suit for the war. This man… was dead. And the cause of death? Assassionation. Apparently he, and a very beautiful woman he married, were both killed by an unknown assailant. 

 

Assassinated? God damn it. He thought bitterly when he noticed that Denji had a kid too. A kid. 

 

Damn it.

 

He sighs, and sets that one aside too. He opens the next one–

 

He nearly passes it out of the spot. 

 

He was not ready for this. 

 

Nope.

 

Absolutely not.

 

Roy was now staring at his best friend's file. His childhood friend with the bold red letters and the cause of death. The death that plagues his dreams, and turns them into nightmares. The death that he could still hear in head 24/7. His fingers brushed over her picture. And her name?

 

Her name was Elizabeth R. Hawkeye.

 

He chokes on a sob that came out of the blue. “R-Riza…” He whispers.

 

 

Now this was someone who truly believed in him, stuck with him since day one. Believe it or not, Roy grew up as a sickly kid, with so many health problems that he couldn’t count on all his fingers and toes; But Riza however, saved his ass from bullies one day and then proceeded to never leave his side. The girl he…

 

Gave a ring to.

 

Well… 

 

Was going to give a ring to. 

 

Just before her death, he proposed to her in the cheesiest, most “Roy” like way possible. It made them forget the cold temps below 30s, the gun powder and dirt caking their faces, the sounds of war going on in the background. It was just enough to make them forget, to make them believe they were still in Central inside his tiny apartment. It was so nice. Watching her genuinely smile after so many months on the field. It was…

 

He grit his teeth, his knuckles turning white on his lap.

 

Their happiness was destroyed by a fucking train.

 

.

.

 

[ “Riza! Take my hand! Take it! Quickly! Please!!!” ]

 

.

.

 

She was a person that rarely screamed, rarely showed fear. But that day made those two things possible. They’ll forever be imprinted in his memories.

 

I thought the plane would bring me to her. His hand clenched in a fist against the file, a way for him to hold back his tears as he scoffs.

 

He couldn’t dare look at her any longer.

 

He closes it up, tossing it back on top of the other ones before shoving the files back into its box. Roy shoves his face into his hands, taking in slow breaths of air while thinking the worst.

 

I did good. I did good. I was a good soldier. A good person. That’s what everyone told him. That’s what Dr. Marcoh said. That’s what General Knox said. That’s what Noah said. That’s what Riza said. So why? Why didn’t he get that happy ending?

 

I did good. I did good. So why couldn’t I see them? Why couldn’t I see her? Did he do something wrong along the way and never realized it? Was he actually not as black and white as everyone told him he was?

 

“I did so good…” Roy chokes just above a whisper, a few stray tears falling on his palms. “So why… why didn’t I get a happy ending?”

 

• °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

 

He kept his punches in a nice pattern. One, two with left, three with right. Change sides. One, two with right, three with left. One, two, three. One, two, three. 

 

He was alone at the gym, which was perfectly fine with him. He wanted to be alone. He could beat out all of his emotions without anyone staring his way, and wondering how a six-foot tall, 220 pound man was ripping a sandbag in half. The world didn’t quite know that Captain Amestris survived after seventy years and he would like to keep it that way for now.

 

He continues to keep the pattern, channeling all of his feelings into each punch, hoping to get rid of all the ones lingering. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three–

 

.

 

There were explosions left and right. His shield barely gave himself any cover.

 

.

 

One, two, three, Right hook. One, two, three, Left hook. One, two, three, Right hook. One, two, three, Left hook. One, two, three–

 

.

 

He remembers the man peeling off his face to reveal something chrome and an eye beating pure red.

 

.

 

One, two, three, Uppercut. One, two, three, Uppercut. One, two, three, Uppercut. One, two, three, Uppercut. One, two, three–

 

.

 

A glowing cube that was too big for the evil man’s hand. But he still smiled, staring into its beauty. 

.

 

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three–

 

.

 

[ “I’ve got no choice. I’ve gotta put her in the water.” ]

 

.

 

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three–

 

.

 

[ “You better not be late to our dance, Mustang.” ]

 

.

 

 One, two, three. One, two, three–

 

.

 

[ “You and me, Cap. Til’ the end of line.” ]

 

.

 

His one final punch sent the sandbag flying off the hook and into the wall, splitting wide open impact (shocker). Roy sighs out of frustration, closing his eyes to level himself like earlier. He carefully interlocks his fingers behind his head, over thinking.

 

So much for this taking my mind off things. He sighs again, before plopping himself on a bench. 

 

He just…

 

He just couldn’t let go. He couldn’t accept where he was. He couldn’t accept what fate had brought upon him. Don’t get him wrong, taking the risk of becoming Captain Amestris was an honor, but he never thought his legacy would turn into this. He thought maybe his legacy would be to sacrifice himself to win the war, or atleast die trying. Or maybe fate would be kind, he could go home, get married, start a family, live his life. The thought of fate bringing him to a new decade would have never crossed his mind.

 

He rubs his drenched face, breathing in slowly–

 

He hears footsteps approaching, and freezes. He thought he was alone. He had made a deal with the elderly owner that he would close up afterwards. Did he change his mind? Or–

 

Someone stopped in the middle of the doorway. This someone, a man, had honey colored hair, cut short with long bangs; Olive eyes and sharply dressed.

 

“Trouble sleeping?” He asked, stepping out from his spot soon after speaking.

 

“Slept for 70 years.” Roy replies, shoulders squaring. “Mind me asking who you are?”

 

He chuckles. “Not at all. I’m Commander Denny Brosh. I work closely with Colonel Bradley at SHIELD.”

 

Roy raises an eyebrow. “SHIELD, Huh?” He starts undoing the wrapping on his hands. “Are you here with a mission?”

 

“Not… quite. It’s more of a… an introduction.” Commander Brosh said, getting a weird look. He chuckles again. “Look, Colonel Bradley will explain more if you decide to come with me, but to sum up the basics, he wants to introduce you to some people who are… unique like you. If you’re interested, of course.”

 

Coal eyes blink, puzzled.

 

If I’m interested? Was he though? 

 

He pinches his brows together, giving a skeptical look. “What exactly is in this for me?” Roy asked, wondering what strings are attached to this offer.

 

Brosh gave him an empathetic look. “Using the Colonel’s words, you could use the company. We know you’re lonely.”

 

Roy scoffs, stuffing the wrapping on his hands into his gym bag. “Are you implying you’ve been spying on me?”

 

“I’m not going to lie and say we aren’t. It’s just a protocol we have, Sir.”

 

“Protocol? Right. Of course you would want to watch a guy who could break concrete with his bare hands.” Roy didn’t want to sound so rude, especially when this man was just doing his job, but he just felt…

 

Well…

 

He’s not sure if ‘betray’ is the right word, but it’s something along the lines of that.

 

Brosh frowns with pity. “Look, your routine is exactly the same since we put you in that apartment. I don’t know if it’s because you’re a soldier and you’re used to a routine, but you hardly go anywhere. You wake up early, you take a stroll around the city, you come here to the gym, and go home to repeat. Occasionally you’ll slip into a coffee shop on fifth.”

 

“What can I say, I like routine.” Was Roy’s reply, one that even tasted slightly bitter on his tongue.

 

“You’re lonely, Captain.” Brosh points out, taking another step forward. “You’ve got no surviving family, no friends. You’re friendly towards your neighbours and everyone you come across, but not close to them.” He gives him another empathetic look. “I have this sinking feeling that it’s because you’re not letting them.”

 

Roy fell silent because he was…

 

Right. He was right about not letting anybody in. But why though? Well, part of him thought he should be punished for surviving the ice; Punish himself for outliving everyone who deserved it more than he did (or maybe he just wanted to die by loneliness in hopes of seeing a certain someone again).

 

“I’m right aren’t I?” Brosh asked after a while.

 

Roy sighs looking away from his gaze to start messing with his gym bag. “So I die of loneliness, so what?”

 

The blond pursed his lips, letting a little irritation in. “You’re a super soldier. I read Dr. Marcoh’s notes, he suggested that your lifespan might surpass the average human. Which it has. ”

 

“I’m 27.”

 

“You’re 93. And when you reach 30, you’ll technically be 96. You’re reaching an age most Amestrians never reach. So, sorry, Sir, but you’re going to live a long time whether you like it or not.”

 

Roy went quiet again. He never really thought about outliving everyone. When he got the serum injected into his veins, all he really thought about was how much better he felt. Being born a sickly kid, and suddenly being able to run without his lungs screaming for air was the only thing that mattered to him at that moment. He never gave himself enough time to take in how different he was going to be from everyone else around him.

 

“I guess… I never gave it much thought.” He manages to croak, his throat feeling tight. 

 

Brosh went back to giving him pity again, irritation fading away. “Look, Captain, how about you just give it a go. Because believe it or not, we at SHIELD, do care about your well being.” 

 

Roy meets his gaze, ones that were honest about the words he was spewing. Roy felt like… like…

 

Maybe this will go well.

 

I guess I gotta stop living in the past. Roy wipes the gloomy expression from his face, standing taller and slinging the bag over his shoulder. 

 

Brosh blinks. “Captain?”

 

“Mind if I change?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Mind if I just change?” Roy lets a little smirk play on his lips. “I want to make a good first impression.”

 

It took a minute for Brosh to process that the super soldier was actually accepting his invitation before smiling. “If that’s what you want, Sir. Did you want me to drive you back to your apartment?”

 

“No need to. I’ve got a spare change of clothes.” He replies, walking towards the area of the locker room.

 

“Take your time, Sir. I’ll be here.”

 

He wasn’t going to flake out on trying something new. He wasn’t going to be a hermit forever. He was going to try to move on. His smile grows with sadness ghosting it.

 

This is what Riza would have wanted.

 

And he knows this by heart.

Chapter 3: Trust Issues

Summary:

Summary: A few new friends in this strange world might be nice… but at what cost?

Notes:

A/N: Nothing to really to report here. Just enjoy as we're finally getting into the actual storyline! :D

Warning: References To Death/Dying; Underlying Depression; Depressing Thoughts; Suicidal Thoughts; Reference to an Assassination Attempt; Spying; Underage Kidnapping; A Little OOC. Read At Your Own Risk!

---

It’s weird going back to the same place you woke up in, but he did it anyway. From the outside it just looks like a normal building, something used as offices or a living residence, but little did the outside world know what really went on inside.

 

Roy stood just outside the car, the city’s lights hitting his back as he stared at the same front entrance he busted through to escape. Was he even making the right choice?

 

“This is just one of the headquarters we use.” Commander Brosh said, closing the driver door. “We don’t use it very often, but for meetings like this it’s perfect.” His warm expression starts to fade when he sees his guest frowning. “Having second thoughts, Captain?”

 

“It’s weird being back here.” Roy replies, truthfully. How long has it been again? Two months? “I feel like I just woke up.”

 

“I can take you back. You don’t have to do this.”

 

“No…” He exhales slowly. “No, I need to.” 

 

For Riza’s sake I have to. He mentally sighs, straightening up and gestures for the Commander to start leading the way.

 

Roy follows in, and he immediately has to ignore the subtle stares he could feel pinpointing on. He bites the inside of his lip, fighting the urge to cave under the heavy emotions. Is this what it was like when he was still frozen solid? Was he like an animal on display for everyone to see? To fear? To admire? He used all his strength not to twitch uncomfortably. He has to get over these emotions. He’s got to start feeling better at some point, right?

 

No. No more fearing. No more self pity. He scolds himself. He has to climb himself out of this everlasting hole. He can’t be sad and lonely forever; He’ll surely die of depression if that’s the case.

 

Or…

 

Is that what he really wanted?

 

But before he could fall down deeper in that rabbit hole, he saw the Director of SHIELD welcoming him with open arms. 

 

“Glad you decided to come, Captain.” Bradley said, with a warm expression.

 

“Thank you for the invite, sir.” Roy replies, with a small bow of his head. “Commander Brosh here told me you fill in the gaps for me.”

 

“Ah, why yes of course. Follow me.” He gestures for the both of them to start walking (Brosh trailing a few steps behind). “The world has gotten… stranger than before. Ever since the war ended, and you became the first superhero known to our country, strange things have been happening ever since.”

 

Roy furrows his brows, his wandering eyes coming back to the Colonel. “I’m sorry… superhero?”

 

“Why, yes. You saved the country. Our world. Isn’t that what you are?”

 

Roy almost laughed at that. “I’m a modified soldier. The things I did during those times I… I wouldn’t call it heroic.” He replies, truthfully. Because he was. The things he had to do to make sure they won against Hydra shouldn’t be classed as heroic.

 

“Well, sometimes you gotta do things you don’t want to do, Captain.” Bradley explains with a somber expression. “But despite what you did, I still see you as a hero.”

 

Roy halts his steps, making them come to a complete stop in the hallway. “Is that why I’m here? To be a hero?”

 

Bradley sighs. “Something is coming. I don't know what or when, but it’s coming. And SHIELD needs to be prepared for this. Which is why, I’m putting together a team of remarkable people, just in case.”

 

“And you’re putting together a team of supers?” Roy lets a little snide smirk ghost his lips. “Sounds like a novel I once read in school.”

 

Bradley seemed to mock his features. “Well, they’re more like just extremely skilled sets of people. The three folks I have in the room don’t even have powers like you. They’re just everyday citizens to the rest of society.”

 

Roy frowns. “And you trust them to do their job whenever this… threat comes?”

 

“Of course.” Bradley replies, walking away. “I even bet my life on them a few times. Some more than others. Come.”

 

Roy follows behind, still skeptical at what yet has to come. He wasn’t completely detrusted of the Director, I mean, he was the one that saved ( could he count that as saving? ) him from ice instead of letting him freeze for who knows how long. In a way, he should be grateful for that. But there was something in the back of his mind telling him to stay on his toes. 

 

Is this team really what the Director is planning? Or does he have a different endgame here? He wonders, just as it was announced they arrived at the room. 

 

Bradley opens the door to the meeting area, letting his guest go first. “After you, Captain.”

 

When Roy finally slipped inside, he was suddenly met with three sets of eyes. The first one he saw was a guy, messy blond hair with an undercut who looked like he didn’t even want to be here judging by the look on his face and the way he was dressed (he looked like he just threw that on). The next one was a woman, her golden curls were cut into a bob, and this time, she was nicely dressed with clothes that seemed sort of expensive for this time. She gave off a warm body kind of vibe before you met her soul piercing gaze. The last one, also a woman, seemed almost skeptical by his appearance, and was in a freshly pressed suit and tie; Her tangled locks were desperately pulled from her face with pins and a scrunchy.

 

Well they all seem lovely. Roy thought sarcastically, staying silent as he heard Commander Brosh slip into the room from behind.

 

“What the–” Brosh chokes, and points his finger aggressively at the blue eyed man. “Agent Havoc, what did I say about smoking in here?!”

 

“Why do you always ride me about my smoking habits?” Havoc asked, as he leaned back into his chair.

 

“No smoking inside. You know the rules.”

 

“Commander–”

 

“Jean.” The blonde woman says, sending him a glare. “Put it out, now.”

 

Havoc sighs and pulls the cigarette out from his mouth. “Fine.” He mumbles, and puts his bud out on the table, making Brosh choke on his words again. “Remind me why I skipped a date for this.”

 

“Because you’re still an agent of SHIELD. Act like one.” She scolds, making him shrug.

 

“Whatever. It’s not like you want to be here either.”

 

And that’s when the silence decided to envelope the room. One that everyone felt and decided to ignore. Roy shifts his stance.

 

Well this is awkward. He thought just as someone cleared their throat.

 

“Well, that was quite an introduction.” Bradley said, cracking the tension. “So, let me introduce you to everyone. The man here is Special Agent Jean Havoc, our sharpshooter. His friend here is Special Agent Olivier Mira, she’s one of our skillful recruits. And lastly we got Miss Izumi Curtis, Central City’s local genius.”

 

Roy subtly looked over everyone, silently taking mental notes.

 

I don’t really get the sharpshooter vibes off him. He thought as his eyes linger on Jean who seems to disconnect from this situation.

 

I can honestly see that from her. He could still feel the woman’s cold glare, almost causing him to visibly shiver.

 

I’ll try not to stare at her. And Miss Curtis… His interest seemed peeked the moment he saw her, a sense of remembrance took a hold of him, causing him slight confusion.

 

She looks awfully familiar.

 

“And everyone, this is Captain Roy Mustang.” Bradley finished, and as soon as his name was mentioned, they seemed to do a 360.

 

Jean blinks in surprise. “Wait…” He begins, sitting up straighter. “You’re Captain Amestris?”

 

“Um…” Roy stands taller, trying to hide his embarrassment ( he didn’t like the attention that name would give him (sometimes ). “Yeah, that would be me.”

 

“Wow, I can’t believe it.” But the blond’s face quickly morphed into something else as he looked in another direction. “Director, sir, you didn’t even inform us that he was awake.”

 

Bradley chuckles dryly. “Well, it must have slipped my mind, Agent. I apologize for that.”

 

Havoc narrowed his eyes a little. “How long has he been awake?”

 

“Oh, uh… well, a few months now. But I’ve been keeping my distance in order for him to get used to this world on his own.” Another humorless laugh. “I didn’t want to disrupt any trust here.”

 

Roy watched as Havoc carelessly whispered something to Olivier, just as he caught a glimpse at Izumi who seemed to be shooting daggers at him.

 

What’s her deal? He thought, wondering what he did wrong.

 

Bradley clears his throat again. “Captain, why don’t you take a seat so we can get started.”

 

“Uh, sure.” He says, finding an open chair.

 

“As some of you already know, something strange is going on in this world. And some of you had your fair share of those experiences. Which is why, as a precaution, I would like to talk about some strategies.”

 

“So you are putting together a team.” Olivier said, her arms crossing in front of her chest. “How come you changed your mind?”

 

Bradley frowns. “Something's coming, and the world needs to be ready. SHIELD needs to be ready to handle whatever may come.”

 

“And what is coming, exactly?” Izumi asked, finally speaking. “Do you even know?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then how do you expect to be ready if you don’t know?” She lays her hands on the table, leaning forward. “Minus the attempt on my life, I was fully prepared for whatever was in my way.”

 

“You guys were barely prepared when that man claiming to be a ‘God’ showed up just south of here.” Olivier points out.

 

“And this team seems kind of small.” Jean adds into the mix. “Is four people going to be enough?”

 

“I have other recruits in mind.” Bradley explains, keeping a straight face. “This is just the beginning.”

 

“Is one of them that alien girl you mentioned before?”

 

Now this got Roy to perk up and blink with confusion. “Wait… Aliens are real?” He asked, dead serious, which took the people present a minute to realize that.

 

Jean snorts at his obliviousness. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen one.” But then his shoulders slack. “I think…”

 

“No doubt it was…” Olivier mumbles.

 

Brosh smiles at the raven haired. “We have our fair share of extraterrestrials coming here for a visit. Although, we like to keep that part private to the public.” He replies, watching the Captain try to piece it all together.

 

“And… you guys know one?” Roy asked, curiosity peaked at its finest.

 

“Colonel Bradley met her in ‘95. She’s actually what inspired him to start a division that we want you all to join.”

 

“Huh.” Well this was certainly interesting. “How come she’s not here?”

 

Brosh shrugs a little. “Well, she’s currently off-world dealing with some stuff. But if we desperately need her, she’ll be here.”

 

“I would expect her to be here if that happens.” Havoc replies, pulling the conversation to the beginning. “I mean, of course I would be here if something happens. Being in SHIELD and doing their tasks is my job. But if something big is coming, something we don’t expect, then I expect a bigger team coming out of this. Or better yet, maybe trying a different strategy with different people. I mean half of us haven’t even worked together yet. How do you expect this to even work?”

 

And now all eyes were on Bradley, all desperate to get some kind of answer that…

 

That…

 

That never even came.

 

• °•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

 

-“You’ll know when you get the call. You’ll know if you want to go and save the world.”-

 

.

.

.

 

That’s what the Director eventually said, which was his closing line in their meeting. And frankly nobody else protested about it. Instead they just got up and left, going about their day. 

 

“This won’t be our normal base of operations, but I still would like you to get used to it if you decide to stay.” Bradley says, showing him around the rest of the building.

 

He was babbling for a while and with all honesty, Roy wasn’t even really listening. He was thinking over the deal in his head, wondering if it was a good idea or not. On one hand, he thought about just being a regular everyday citizen, possibly getting a decent job and picking up a few hobbies. That sounded nice, but what would be so regular about him? And on the other, he would be a soldier on standby once more. He would be Captain Amestris once again, protecting the people and his country. 

 

That… kind of sounds nice. He wants to slap himself at that thought. He couldn’t believe he wanted to do this all over again. Don’t get him wrong, he loved being Captain Amestris, but the things he did during the war makes him want to puke.

 

How could people idol him when he had so much blood on his hands?

 

But… maybe I could change all that. Maybe… I can do this again without the pain. Maybe I could be a hero. Could he win a battle without dirtying his hands in the cruelest way possible? Could he make people’s eyes sparkle with joy upon seeing his bloodless uniform?

 

I could change. I could start over. This thing with SHIELD might actually be a good thing, despite some of its obvious flaws. Maybe I could fix those too. He couldn’t help but let a small smile creep on his face as they entered a room.

 

“-this is the control room. We monitor the city from here just in case.” Bradley finishes as he guides the both of them to a railing, looking down at the small control room. 

 

Roy stared in awe as he saw a room just full of technology. Monitors lined the walls and desks, there were glowing buttons and keyboards, and lights flickering all sorts of colors as workers quietly chatted away.

 

“Whoa…” He mumbled, making the Colonel chuckle.

 

“Come. I’ll show you a closer look.” Bradley said, as he walked towards a set of stairs with the Captain right behind.

 

“So what exactly are you monitoring?”

 

“Anything that seems suspicious under our eyes.” Bradley comes next to one of the officers and gestures to his computer screen. “We monitor small shops or certain individuals. If there’s nothing suspicious we pull the plug on them.”

 

“Interesting…” Roy said, eyes scanning over the screens, taking each and everyone of their sceneries in. It was quite a sight to see. They were watching small shops or a set of people, or there were some random views of streets, looking for any kind of threats.

 

Very interesting. He wouldn’t lie that he said he was fascinated how technology could do this. How far it's truly come from just a dinky house radio he once owned. He really could just–

 

He saw a small person in chains.

 

Wait. His coal eyes snapped to the monitor, he takes in the person sitting on a white floor with a scowl on his features. The person looked so cold and beat up. He swore he could see its hollow cheek bones starting to form. This person was–

 

Is that…?

 

Bradley, who was obviously to his guest’s stiff movements, kept talking about SHIELD and all its glory. “So I was thinking we could–” 

 

“Why is there a child in chains here?” Roy growls quietly, and the whole room grows immediately quiet.

 

The older man blinks with his one good eye. “I’m sorry?”

 

“I said… Why–” His eyes snapped over to the Director, his exterior becoming colder than before. He couldn’t believe what he was just about to say. “Is there a child in chains here? ” 

 

Bradley gaze flickers to the screen for a split second before putting on a straight face. “Captain Mustang, it’s nothing to get so stressed about.”

 

Roy for the second time today almost laughed in this man’s face. “Nothing to be stressed about? Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” He points to the monitor. “Tell me Director, what kind of fucking place is this? Who in their right mind kidnaps a child?”

 

Now they were locked in a stare down. Two animals suddenly wanted to tear each other apart. Nobody else here dared to intervene.

 

On second thought, Riza…

 

Roy clenches his jaw with disgust.

 

.

.

.

 

I might not be making friends after all.

Chapter 4: NOT AN UPDATE, But an announcement

Summary:

NOT AN UPDATE, But an announcement! Please read below!

Hey, readers!

This is probably a surprise that I've returned to this fic, seeing how long it's been.

I didn't really mean to neglect this story, but It sort of just happened after I kind of hit a wall in this AU.

When I first wrote this story I had the "Idea" in my head, but the actual "layout". But after months of figuring everything out, all the characters, and who's going to be who, I finally figured it out!

I now have a whole plot line, some art work, and this follows the MCU pretty closely. I am very excited to share with you guys the revamp version of this, and I plan on releasing a few chapters in the next few weeks. 

Your comments, kudos, and bookmarks have kept me going! And I'm hoping y'all will stick around for the revamp.

 

Thanks for stopping by!

-Sky

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of FMA Meets MCU