Authors: fullmetalkatu amd megkips
Series: It’s the End of Amestris as We Know It
Crossing Over: Fullmetal Alchemist and Good Omens
Warnings: Standard Series Warnings Apply for FMA. Complete and Utter Ending Spoilers for Good Omens
Explanation: Basically this is because the new FMA game has a bad guy by the name of Jack Crowley. If any of you have read the book "Good Omens" by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, you'll understand why we made the connection from Jack Crowley to A.J. Crowley.
Authors' Notes: If you haven't read Good Omens, read it. It's pretty much the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy but with the Bibical End of Days. (We hope that Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett never finds this.)
The story takes place prior to Ed and Al's arrival in Liore and prior to the appointments of both Juliet Douglas and Breda to their respective posts. (Which should explain a lot.)
It’s the End of Amestris as We Know It
Aziraphale was a normal secretary. He was tall and somewhat lanky with blonde hair that frizzed at the ends, and wore glasses with perfectly normal office attire usually in a light blue or white. He worked regular office hours, answered phones, took messages, and brought tea to his boss on a regular basis. While he wasn’t answering the phones, taking messages, bringing tea, or writing letters, he collected books. These books usually dealt with the end of the world.
These books that usually dealt with the end of the world were normally very wrong. One had been right, but that had been in another time, in another world entirely. The entire thing was ineffable in the end, and he (nor the author of that book) had a say in what had happened.
It was thanks to this ineffability that Aziraphale had managed to become King Bradley’s secretary to begin with. Prior to his new job, Aziraphale hadn’t even dwelled in the same plane as the citizens of Amestris. It was probably better that way, as the end of the world was assured to be ineffable. Aziraphale had less time to grow attached to any this world’s citizens, which was always a plus in the grand ineffable plan. There would be no intervention on behalf of either side’s pawns this time.
However, for Aziraphale, some habits died very hard. Drinking with Crowley was one of them.
Crowley was a snake in the grass of the universe. This could, only because Aziraphale had known him that long, be taken quite literally. Crowley was adequately described as a "Flash Bastard", and wouldn't have it any other way. He always wore sunglasses, even when he didn't need to, only because of two facts: The first being that most people wouldn't care for his serpent-like eyes, and the second being that he had to uphold his image.
The two had routinely drunk together for about 6 millennia, despite being chess pieces on opposite ends of the board. Crowley reasoned that because the two had known each other for so long, enemies and friends were the same thing. His logic held no difference to what world they were in, and his logic wasn’t going to make an acceptation for Amestris.
At the moment, Crowley was blessing his cassette player in utter frustration as he sped along the road in his new car. The accursed thing was merrily playing Queen through the car. Crowley had hoped, against all odds that being assigned to another world to ensure its destruction would mean freedom from the blasted rock group. This, however, was not the case.
Crowley missed his Bentley, which he was forced to leave behind in England while it was in for repairs. He wasn’t sure what kind of car he was driving at the moment, or what company it was made by. He did know that there were no “Ford” or “Chevy” or “Volkswagen” dealers in Amestris, and therefore the car he was speeding in was most certainly not an American or Japanese produced automobile. Oh well, a car was a car, and he didn’t have to pay for this one. Truth be told, he was just hijacking it from his boss for the day. Hot wiring the car was a real pain in the ass, since the car was proofed with alchemy seals, but Crowley was a demon, and by trade he could work around anything that wasn’t blessed, so alchemy seals were nothing.
Thanks to Crowley’s inability to properly hot wire a car within two minutes while excusing himself to “go to take a piss” (which his female co-worker found to be an unnecessary announcement), Crowley had ended up speeding out of the Central Command HQ parking lot while being shot at.
This made Crowley fairly unhappy, because he was late for drinking.
It didn't matter that he was late for drinking with Aziraphale; he had never been on time. But, it was rather annoying that he would be twenty minutes late because he had crashed into a street sign when he realized what was playing on the car stereo, hot wiring the car he was driving and dealing with the fury of Hawkeye.
Ah, well. It didn't matter, anyway.
Az didn't bother to make with polite conversation, no "Hello" or "How are you doing?" or "Was that you running over a stop sign back there?" Instead, Crowley was greeted by, “How's the new job going?"
"Meh. I'm too low to do anything fun, really." He plopped into the chair across from the blond. "No point in corrupting a Colonel…" He looked over his sunglasses at Aziraphale. "And how about you?"
Aziraphale shrugged and removed his pale jacket, hanging it across the back of his chair. “Quite normal really. Are you sure that he’s one of your people?”
”Dead sure,” Crowley assured the angel.
"He seems like such a nice man, though...he's got a family, and he's very friendly...and he enjoys tea. Honestly, I thought your crowd liked coffee." Aziraphale frowned slightly.
Crowley shook his head, “No, that’s a personal demon-by-demon thing. Just stereotyped because Satan is a hopeless coffee junkie.”
"Oh, I see…" Aziraphale said, nodding.
"However," Crowley said, looking to him for an answer. "This guy is one of yours, right? I mean, he's lazy, he's a pyromaniac...actually, he acts like someone I knew once…"
”I was thinking of the Almighty, but Satan fits the bill too,” Crowley shrugged.
Aziraphale was about to defend the Divine Ruler when he realized that Crowley was in fact right. "To answer your question, yes, he is one of ours…he should do some good."
"You hope." Crowley rolled his eyes. “I hear the Guys Upstairs has been smiting lately because of the Lower Tadfield incident.”
"Ah. Yes, I'm afraid that would be true."
Lower Tadfield. Tadfield is a place in England. Lower Tadfield, for those who lack any sense of direction, would be the lower part of it. England is a wonderful little country in an entirely different world from Amestris. Several weeks prior to both Crowley and Aziraphale's arrival in Amestris, Lower Tadfield was going to be the epicenter of the Apocalypse.
Unfortunately, due to the improper raising of the Anti-Christ and the interference of Aziraphale, Crowley, and an assorted cast of humans which included, but was not limited to: the Anti-Christ, the friends of the Anti-Christ, several witch hunters, a supposed witch, a few Mongolians from Shambala and two very random aliens bearing a message of good will and universal enlightenment, the Apocalypse had never occurred. This made many people very angry in both Heaven and Hell, so, in a strange agreement, both parties had agreed to stage a test-Apocalypse in Amestris, effectively destroying the world, its inhabitant, and its inhabitant’s aunties.
Hell blamed Crowley for screwing up the Apocalypse. Hell also blamed Aziraphale for helping Crowley to screw up the Apocalypse, but because Aziraphale was out of Hell’s jurisdiction, they couldn’t do anything about the angel. Heaven was also unhappy with Aziraphale’s prevention of the Apocalypse, but they figured that since that loophole existed, it was perfectly ineffable for someone to find a way around it, and that finding a way around it was woven into God’s Great Ineffable Plan.
Not that any angel had seen God’s Great Ineffable Plan.
”Did you buy a store for your books yet?” Crowley mused at the angel.
Az shook his head. “No actually. Aside from odd religious cults here and there, there actually doesn’t seem to be any type of record detailing what’s going to happen to this place.”
"Well, then." Crowley paused and considered this. "Has your side told you anything?"
”Only a few small details, but nothing of importance,” Az sighed. “I suppose with good reason, what with the last time and all. What about your side? What are your people doing about the Anti-Christ?”
"Well, I heard the word 'wrath' a couple of times, but Beelzebub's buzzing drowns out most of the message. So, no, I don't know much, either."
”You know, I’m amazed that your boss let you out so early to come for a drink,” Aziraphale observed.
Crowley smiled grimly and forced a laugh. "He's a piece of work, Colonel Mustang is. He likes the lady, that’s for sure."
Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale saw one of the bar's employees pick up the telephone and wince. The man yanked the telephone away from his ear like something had bit him. Crowley saw this happen as well and felt as if a great black rain cloud had gathered over his head and was beginning to pelt him with sleet the size of baseballs.
"Yes, that's me." Crowley ran his fingers through his hair. "What is it?"
"Ah, it's a phone call from Colonel Mustang."
"Well, shit." Crowley picked up the phone very carefully and slowly put it to his ear. “Hullo?”
What Crowley heard on the other end sounded like an angry mob personified by one person. The personification of an angry mob by one person was currently named Roy Mustang. “CROWLEY WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!”
Crowley’s mind rambled for a good two minutes, trying to think up a good excuse. Mustang’s voice boomed on the line. “WELL?”
”Picking up some plants for the office, yours are currently dying,” Crowley lied. It was the worst lie he had ever told, and Crowley had a vague feeling that he could lose his Demonship for thinking up something so terrible.
"Why the HELL would something so mundane take SIX HOURS and MY CAR?!"
"Well, my car was in terrible condition you see, it caught on fire a few days ago and I had to drive it like that down to the repair shop. As you can clearly see, I don't have a car at the moment, which is why I needed to use yours. Then, on my way to the nursery some asshole ran down a stop sign and caused an 8 car pile-up, and because I was right behind the idiot who ran down the stop sign I was stuck in a gridlock for about four hours. After they cleared the accident up I realized that I needed to eat, and that took me about two hours because the burger place had run out of meat and had to go to the butcher's to get more. Incidentally, the butcher was off for the day and his assistant was delivering food to the mess hall in HQ. Then I got the plants and decided that in preparation for this phone call I was going to need a very stiff drink." Crowley saw Aziraphale ram his head into the desk several times.
Mustang was, amazingly, silent for a moment.
Crowley had a feeling that this was the silence before the storm.
"I never asked you to pick up plants in the first place," The Colonel muttered, frustrated with his new employee.
"I thought it would be nice. It's not like they're pink or anything." Another thunk sounded on Aziraphale’s part.
"...Just...just...just get back to the office."
"Sir, yessir," Crowley muttered, throwing his hand at his forehead in a mime of a salute, before putting the phone back on the hook.
Aziraphale glared at Crowley from across the table, “Was that really necessary?”
”What the salute? No, of course not.”
”No, making that big fabricated story about why you weren’t at work. You could have just told him the truth.”
"What, and be his perfect little angel?" Crowley scoffed. “I really should get going now and go buy some not-pink plants.”
And with that Crowley swept out of the bar.
End Chapter One.
I wrote "Az is better than Douglas" if you can't read the hand writing.
Crowley + Buttcape = YES.
Comment and Critque. You know you want to.