The desert planet of Tattooine:
He looked down at the small community from his vantage point upon the cliff, and let out a sigh of relief.
"Finally," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Only took us 10 hours. Still can't believe she left us behind like that..."
"What did you expect?" asked the massive Droid at his side, in a strangely human voice. "You know how she gets about her work. You shouldn't have said those things."
"Well she shouldn't have said those things about my height!" the boy shot back. He then took a deep breath. "Whatever. Let's just find her and get what we need so we can get the hell off this planet."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" the Droid persisted. "You heard what the man said about this place. 'You'll never find a more retched hive of scum and--' "
"Aw, it'll be fine!" the boy interrupted. "Can't be anything worse then what we deal with back home, right Al?"
"Al?" the boy called, looking around. Not finding any trace of his mechanical companion, he began to spin around frantically. "Al?! Where'd you go?"
Suddenly, he stopped and looked down at the sand.
"You fell in again, didn't you?"
A robotic arm burst through the sand and flailed about desperately.
The boy let out another sigh, this one being one of exasperation.
Mos Eisley was truly a pit of everything nasty in the universe. From black market weaponry, to the slave trades, nothing was missed. This was also true for one ambitious blonde in a simple tube top. No one was missing her. But true to herself, her narrow focus allowed her to ignore all the cheers and leers she was receiving from the humanoid pilots milling about.
"Dammit!" she cursed. "Doesn't anyone in this dump have some frickin' power converters?!"
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Okay, Winry, relax. You made it this far, not to mention you finally managed to teach the little pipsqueak a lesson." She smirked evilly. "That'll show him to...hmm?"
A metal glint in the corner of her eye drew her attention to a small vendor's booth, almost buried under various mechanical parts. It would look more like a small junk pile to the untrained eye.
And though she was many things, Winry Rockbell was not untrained.
Squealing, she ran over to the booth, fawning over the various parts, all but drooling.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
Winry froze and looked up found a very large and apparently very angry older man glaring down at her with hard eyes.
Letting out a very different kind of squeak, Winry quickly composed herself.
"ahem Yes, I was wondering if you could provide me with some parts and some information."
"You came to the right place for parts," said a new voice as a young woman emerged from behind the grizzled old man. Her dark skin and bright eyes reflected a much friendlier demeanor. Winry instantly decided to do business directly with her, not the slightest bit phased at the girl's cybernetic arm. "But for information, your best bet would be the Cantena."
"Wandering around in the desert for hours wearing black and a heavy red coat?" the bartender asked, dumfolded. "Jeez, mister no wonder your thirsty. It's a wonder you ain't dead."
The boy bolted down his tenth glass of ice water in half as many minutes and offered a grin in reply. "What can I say? I'm new in the quadrant."
"Really?" the bartender asked, genially curious. "So what brings you here?"
A determined look formed in his golden eyes. "The Jedi," he said, his voice low and grim. "I need to know where I can find them."
Again, the bartender was flabbergasted. "Yer kidding, right? Everyone knows about the Jedi."
"I told you," the boy almost growled, "I'm new in town."
"I'll say you are," said a soft and almost...sultry voice from across the bar.
The boy looked over and saw a woman, also dressed in mostly black. A hood obscured much of her face, but he did notice her eyes. Violet and...feral.
"Little Edward El'Ric," the woman cooed. "So far, far away from home..."
The boy stood up straight, but did not say anything as he stared at the woman.
"The Jedi High council is located in the Capital of Coruscant," the woman continued, taking a sip from her drink. "But do you really think they'll be interested in anything you have to offer?"
"How do you know my name?" the boy demanded in harsh whisper.
However, before the woman could offer there was a commotion among the tables. There was crashing, shouting in various languages, and the sound of Edward's Droid companion apologizing frantically.
"What's wrong Al?" Edward asked as he walked over to the Droid, eyeing the two aliens who were shouting at him angrily.
"Brother!" the Droid shouted desperately. "I'm sorry! It's just that this body is so big and clumsy and these walkways are so narrow–!"
One of the aliens apparently took exception to that, shouting furiously in words Edward could not understand. Of course, even if he did, there was no grantee he would have heard any of it, as he was staring blatantly at the creatures green skin, tiny eyes and snout/mouth.
"He says that when I bumped his table, I spilled his drink and ruined his death sticks," the Droid explained. "I told him that I was sorry, but..."
"Wait, you understand him?" Ed asked, looking back at the Droid.
Al nodded. "I guess I have some kind of language protocol."
"That's great!" Ed insisted, grinning. "It'll make talking to people a lot easier! Anyway, tell him that we're both really sorry and we'll gladly buy him another drink and some more death sticks."
Al nodded and made several strange noises that reminded Ed of that time he saw one of his friends back home heavily intoxicated. He almost laughed, but was cut off before he could by a gun being pointed at his face.
"Al...?" Ed whispered. "What did you say?"
"I don't know! I don't know!" the Droid said, practically panicking. "I guess I got the dialects cross-referenced or something!"
The alien was livid now, his solid black eyes almost bursting from his green sockets.
"Okay," Ed said in what he hoped was a soothing tone as he slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Settle down now. There's no need to--"
The gun fired and the other patrons cried out.
Then a silence fell as the crowd stared in shock.
Edward had brought up his right arm to block the shot at the last possible second, but instead of burned and seared flesh underneath the black sleeve, there was the scorched markings of silver metal.
"That," Edward said darkly, "was a mistake."
"Oh no..." the Droid said, softly and horrified.
Ed flicked his mechanical wrist, which was followed by the familiar snap-hiss of a light saber.
Winry had just handed over the credits to pay for the parts she had purchased as was bending down to pick them up when the door of the building across the way erupted. Standing up, horrified, she watched as someone scrambled through the portal and looked around frantically.
She then groaned and held her head when she recongized the red coat and golden hair.
"WINRY!" Edward cried, running over to her, Al right behind him. "RUN!"
She was about to shout her defiance and demand to know what he had done this time, but that plan vanished when what she was sure was the galaxy's record for "Largest Angry Mob" poured out after the boy and his robot.
Screaming, she ran after her two companions as they passed her, making a quick U-turn to collect her parts. She led them to her land speeder and they took off at full speed, all hoping the mob didn't give chase.
Inside, the bartender stood in the center of his ruined establishment, taking in all the shattered tables, broken glass, and unconscious customer in various locations and positions.
"That's it," he said, broken as electricity sparked from the ceiling. "No more Droids..."
"I can't believe you Ed," Winry spat as she finished installing the last part into their ship. "Can't you even get a drink without starting a riot?"
"He pulled a gun on me!" Ed shot back. "Is everyone somehow forgetting this fact?!"
"Whatever," Winry grumbled as she flipped some switches. "C'mon...let's get started..."
"It could've been worse," Al offered. "They could've called him short."
"Then it would have been a massacre," Winry nodded.
"He shot at me!" Ed shouted. "How am I the bad guy?!"
The ship chose that time to come to life, causing Winry to forget the argument with a big grin. "Yip-EEE!" She spun around in her pilot's chair. "Strap in boys!"
They did so as their pilot made some final adjustments, grinning all the while.
"Coordinates locked in," she grinned, putting on a pair of aviator goggles. "Ready?"
"Steady," Al said with a nervous nod.
"GO!" Ed shouted with determination.
And with that, their ship, the Crossover, took to the stars.