Back Story: FIC
Title: The Fire Goes Out.
Summary: Back at the end of the Ishvallian rebellion, Kimbley is called in by his higher-ups to be revoked of his use of the Philosipher's Stone. He isn't a happy camper.
Rating: PG-13, violence.
"Zolf. The Generals want to talk to you."
Kimbley opened one eye to see a man peaking into his tent. The man froze slightly under the gaze of that amber eye but the soldier quickly walked off after wards. Kimbley unfolded his hands from behind his head and swung his legs over the side of the cot, standing up on his booted feet. What could those generals possibly want from him? Perhaps he'd be getting a promotion for the wonderful job he did so far in this rebellion? He laughed at the thought and stared down at the red jewel on his necklace.
To some, it'd be like a ruby, or a fashion accessory. But this. This was a weapon enhancer. His alchemy was multiplied tenfold by this historical and often fantasized object. The Philosipher's Stone, or even called a "Heart Stone". They only handed them out to the most lethal of alchemists, and Zolf was one of the very few to obtain the rock. He had a high sense of self pride as he walked through the camp site, the red rock shining elegantly in the sunlight as it gently swayed from side to side from his footfalls.
He approached the Generals' tent and pulled the entrance tarp away so he could slip in under it. Three generals sat in chairs behind a fold up table. Two more soldiers stood behind them, even two more by the entrance. One of them was a demihuman of sorts. Looked to be a crocodile of some sort. They all stared at Kimbley coldly, but their eyebrows faltered ever so slightly. A sign of weakness. Some of the higher ups couldn't handle the Crimson Alchemist. Only one could, but that was years ago. She was off somewhere else, yelling at other soldiers until their ears bled. Kimbley stood to attention and saluted to the three of them, smiling fondly.
"You needed to speak to me?"
The general in the middle, General Locke, stared up at Kimbley from under his glasses. He sighed heavily. It was a delicate process. It had to be done.
"Kimbley. Your actions on the field have been quite the spectacle. I'm afraid your use of the stone is a hazard to the army. In the last group of rebels you encountered, you killed one of our own in a blast from your own hands."
Kimbley's smile faded ever so slightly from his face, but he did not frown. He listened to what the general had to say. That was before he tilted his head to the side and laughed ever so gently, feeling the laugh twitch in his throat. "It was his their own fault to be in the way. He deserved it if he was so foolish enough to be in the way of an explosion, of all things."
The men in the room looked at him, shocked. One of the soldiers behind the generals blurted out, "You don't give a damn?!"
Locke raised his hand to silence the soldier before he stood up from his chair, folding his hands behind his back. "Zolf J. Kimbley. We here by revoke your use of the Stone."
Kimbley's eyes widened ever so slightly as he felt the two men behind him close in on him, and in a split second, they grabbed his arms, forcing them up and behind his back, forcing him to his knees. The alchemist struggled, gritting his teeth as his hands twitched angrily behind his back. They were taking away his gift. How could they? How dare they. He cried out, enraged by the whole ideal as Locke walked forward and snapped the necklace from around Zolf's neck. Kimbley suddenly felt himself grow limp in the mens' grasp, looking up to see the stone dangling before his eyes. Teasingly. The stone reflected his horrified face. Pale, amber eyes wide in shock, and what seemed to be fear.
But that only lasted a few seconds.
The action caught the men off guard and the angered Kimbley lunged forward. That deadly sound of clapping, and the brief moment of alchemy crackling made the whole room silent. Locke opened his eyes the next second, feeling his windpipe being clutched by the arrayed hand of Zolf. Those amber eyes stared straight into his blue ones, wide with anger, a wide smile suddenly cracking upon his face. Everyone in the room was afraid to speak, to make a move, even breathe. They knew what was to be expected of the mad bomber.
Kimbley's eyes softened as he looked at Locke almost fondly, leaning his face up to his, merely inches away. He could feel the warm breath of the alchemist on his blond mustache. "General. You're making a horrible mistake. Who else could exterminate those red eyed cretins? As effective as I can? All those alchemists out there. Mustang. Armstrong. They're weak They're cracking under pressure. They're useless. But here, you're taking away your most useful tool in this war. Just because of one little death of one of our own. Do you realize how many of our own have been killed by the Ishvallians?"
The general tried to speak, but the words couldn't climb up his throat fast enough. Sure, his powers were lowered greatly, due to the fact he didn't have the Stone. That didn't mean anything if he had you by the throat.
His grip on the man's neck slowly loosened. The general sighed, relieved. A split second later, blood splattered across his face, as well as Kimbley's. Those wide amber eyes were visible again as Locke gasped, slowly falling to his knees. his hand reached up to touch at his own neck, to see why it was so hard to take in air. Kimbley took a step back as the man fell to his knees, seeing the gaping hole in his throat, blood drenching his neck and down his chest. He could feel the warm blood on his own face quickly cool as the man gave out his last few gasps of air.
As their commander slowly died at the alchemist's feet, the men in the tent all looked in horror as Kimbley bent down to take the necklace from the dead man's hand, smiling ever so fondly.
"Thank you. I know you'd understand." Kimbley chirped, clipping the necklace back around his elegant throat, pulling his ponytail through it.
The other men in the room stood up slowly, putting their hands on their gun's in their holsters. Zolf faced them and quirked a brow. Were they serious, now that he had the stone back? He felt his shoulders twitch and he chuckled before he threw his head back laughing. lifting his hand up. red sparks danced down his arm and to his palm. Then men snapped to attention then and pointed their guns at him.
They didn't even have time to pull the trigger.
Outside the tent, onlookers were curious as to what was going on. It had suddenly grown quiet. That was before they saw a bright red light from inside the tent and suddenly, the tent exploded in a fiery ball, burning up and dissolving in the blast. The soldiers around it gasped and shouted in surprise and all stood up at attention, ready to swoop in and see if there were any survivors, or whoever was attacking them. Was it an attack? Was it an accident? The debris from the blast was minimal, as far as people could see through the dust. Most of it was destroyed in the blast anyways. People squinted and leaned in, seeing a figure rise up from the rubble.
Kimbley slowly emerged, his uniform covered in soot, singed, as well as his face, but he wore his kind face as he walked out from the smoke, shaking loose hair strands from his face, giving a friendly wave to those who stared upon him in absolute terror. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly felt the ground move behind him.
He slowly glanced over his shoulder and looked to the broken rocks. A form burst from the rocks and grabbed the alchemist in its strong arms. It was the demihuman crocodile from before. He had his arms under Zolf's armpits and clasped his hands behind his head. He shouted for the others to rush forward and help.
Through all the chaos that ensued next, Kimbley struggled yet again to get away. And, yet again, his Stone was taken away, and more people rushed in to restrain Kimbley as he tried to move his arrayed palms together. Knees pinned him down, restraining him securely as they tied him up and made sure his hands were separated from one another. They sentenced him to prison and death by injection.
Too bad that never happened though.
Summary: Back at the end of the Ishvallian rebellion, Kimbley is called in by his higher-ups to be revoked of his use of the Philosipher's Stone. He isn't a happy camper.
Rating: PG-13, violence.
"Zolf. The Generals want to talk to you."
Kimbley opened one eye to see a man peaking into his tent. The man froze slightly under the gaze of that amber eye but the soldier quickly walked off after wards. Kimbley unfolded his hands from behind his head and swung his legs over the side of the cot, standing up on his booted feet. What could those generals possibly want from him? Perhaps he'd be getting a promotion for the wonderful job he did so far in this rebellion? He laughed at the thought and stared down at the red jewel on his necklace.
To some, it'd be like a ruby, or a fashion accessory. But this. This was a weapon enhancer. His alchemy was multiplied tenfold by this historical and often fantasized object. The Philosipher's Stone, or even called a "Heart Stone". They only handed them out to the most lethal of alchemists, and Zolf was one of the very few to obtain the rock. He had a high sense of self pride as he walked through the camp site, the red rock shining elegantly in the sunlight as it gently swayed from side to side from his footfalls.
He approached the Generals' tent and pulled the entrance tarp away so he could slip in under it. Three generals sat in chairs behind a fold up table. Two more soldiers stood behind them, even two more by the entrance. One of them was a demihuman of sorts. Looked to be a crocodile of some sort. They all stared at Kimbley coldly, but their eyebrows faltered ever so slightly. A sign of weakness. Some of the higher ups couldn't handle the Crimson Alchemist. Only one could, but that was years ago. She was off somewhere else, yelling at other soldiers until their ears bled. Kimbley stood to attention and saluted to the three of them, smiling fondly.
"You needed to speak to me?"
The general in the middle, General Locke, stared up at Kimbley from under his glasses. He sighed heavily. It was a delicate process. It had to be done.
"Kimbley. Your actions on the field have been quite the spectacle. I'm afraid your use of the stone is a hazard to the army. In the last group of rebels you encountered, you killed one of our own in a blast from your own hands."
Kimbley's smile faded ever so slightly from his face, but he did not frown. He listened to what the general had to say. That was before he tilted his head to the side and laughed ever so gently, feeling the laugh twitch in his throat. "It was his their own fault to be in the way. He deserved it if he was so foolish enough to be in the way of an explosion, of all things."
The men in the room looked at him, shocked. One of the soldiers behind the generals blurted out, "You don't give a damn?!"
Locke raised his hand to silence the soldier before he stood up from his chair, folding his hands behind his back. "Zolf J. Kimbley. We here by revoke your use of the Stone."
Kimbley's eyes widened ever so slightly as he felt the two men behind him close in on him, and in a split second, they grabbed his arms, forcing them up and behind his back, forcing him to his knees. The alchemist struggled, gritting his teeth as his hands twitched angrily behind his back. They were taking away his gift. How could they? How dare they. He cried out, enraged by the whole ideal as Locke walked forward and snapped the necklace from around Zolf's neck. Kimbley suddenly felt himself grow limp in the mens' grasp, looking up to see the stone dangling before his eyes. Teasingly. The stone reflected his horrified face. Pale, amber eyes wide in shock, and what seemed to be fear.
But that only lasted a few seconds.
The action caught the men off guard and the angered Kimbley lunged forward. That deadly sound of clapping, and the brief moment of alchemy crackling made the whole room silent. Locke opened his eyes the next second, feeling his windpipe being clutched by the arrayed hand of Zolf. Those amber eyes stared straight into his blue ones, wide with anger, a wide smile suddenly cracking upon his face. Everyone in the room was afraid to speak, to make a move, even breathe. They knew what was to be expected of the mad bomber.
Kimbley's eyes softened as he looked at Locke almost fondly, leaning his face up to his, merely inches away. He could feel the warm breath of the alchemist on his blond mustache. "General. You're making a horrible mistake. Who else could exterminate those red eyed cretins? As effective as I can? All those alchemists out there. Mustang. Armstrong. They're weak They're cracking under pressure. They're useless. But here, you're taking away your most useful tool in this war. Just because of one little death of one of our own. Do you realize how many of our own have been killed by the Ishvallians?"
The general tried to speak, but the words couldn't climb up his throat fast enough. Sure, his powers were lowered greatly, due to the fact he didn't have the Stone. That didn't mean anything if he had you by the throat.
His grip on the man's neck slowly loosened. The general sighed, relieved. A split second later, blood splattered across his face, as well as Kimbley's. Those wide amber eyes were visible again as Locke gasped, slowly falling to his knees. his hand reached up to touch at his own neck, to see why it was so hard to take in air. Kimbley took a step back as the man fell to his knees, seeing the gaping hole in his throat, blood drenching his neck and down his chest. He could feel the warm blood on his own face quickly cool as the man gave out his last few gasps of air.
As their commander slowly died at the alchemist's feet, the men in the tent all looked in horror as Kimbley bent down to take the necklace from the dead man's hand, smiling ever so fondly.
"Thank you. I know you'd understand." Kimbley chirped, clipping the necklace back around his elegant throat, pulling his ponytail through it.
The other men in the room stood up slowly, putting their hands on their gun's in their holsters. Zolf faced them and quirked a brow. Were they serious, now that he had the stone back? He felt his shoulders twitch and he chuckled before he threw his head back laughing. lifting his hand up. red sparks danced down his arm and to his palm. Then men snapped to attention then and pointed their guns at him.
They didn't even have time to pull the trigger.
Outside the tent, onlookers were curious as to what was going on. It had suddenly grown quiet. That was before they saw a bright red light from inside the tent and suddenly, the tent exploded in a fiery ball, burning up and dissolving in the blast. The soldiers around it gasped and shouted in surprise and all stood up at attention, ready to swoop in and see if there were any survivors, or whoever was attacking them. Was it an attack? Was it an accident? The debris from the blast was minimal, as far as people could see through the dust. Most of it was destroyed in the blast anyways. People squinted and leaned in, seeing a figure rise up from the rubble.
Kimbley slowly emerged, his uniform covered in soot, singed, as well as his face, but he wore his kind face as he walked out from the smoke, shaking loose hair strands from his face, giving a friendly wave to those who stared upon him in absolute terror. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly felt the ground move behind him.
He slowly glanced over his shoulder and looked to the broken rocks. A form burst from the rocks and grabbed the alchemist in its strong arms. It was the demihuman crocodile from before. He had his arms under Zolf's armpits and clasped his hands behind his head. He shouted for the others to rush forward and help.
Through all the chaos that ensued next, Kimbley struggled yet again to get away. And, yet again, his Stone was taken away, and more people rushed in to restrain Kimbley as he tried to move his arrayed palms together. Knees pinned him down, restraining him securely as they tied him up and made sure his hands were separated from one another. They sentenced him to prison and death by injection.
Too bad that never happened though.