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15 March 2010 @ 02:41 am
FMA fic: "Night on the Town"  
Did this for fma_fic_contest last week. It lost to (of all things) a MUSICAL. XD

Title: Night on the Town
Series: Manga
Word Count: 1263
Rating: PG-13 because, um....Kimblee has a bit of a sexual fetish with explosions. Nothing explicit, but you should get the drift.
Characters: Kimblee/Philosopher's Stone
Summary:  Kimblee always preferred to do things alone. And then he met Stone.
Notes: Yes, this IS a Kimblee/Stone OTP fic.

Ah, Ishbal. Those were good times. Perhaps the best time of his life, in fact. Well, it wasn't just the wanton destruction--that was only part of it. No, no, it was because that was the time of his life that he learned the true value of partnership.

Of course he didn't mean partnership with a fellow human. No, his partnership went far beyond human boundaries. That was when he first met that beautiful thing called a Philosopher's Stone.

He always had a knack for destruction--it was a talent that often caused his mentors discomfort. Well, good for them. It kept them out of his way. When he learned all National Alchemists were to be sent to Ishbal, he was overjoyed--finally a place to put his talent to good use.

Maybe after that they'd think twice before calling him the "Mad Bomber". Mad he was, though calling him a "bomber" was an insult. What he did was true art.

And it was more beautiful than he could have possibly imagined.

He could smell it--the fear as those simple humans ran like rats from a fire. But this was no small spark in a storage hold--fire would rain down on them from the sky, accompanied by that glorious explosion. Oh, he could remember that feeling--how his blood boiled seeing those rats scream in terror, the release he felt when that flash ignited the air. And that scent--of blood, of ash, of destruction and doom.

If that wasn't heaven, he didn't know what was.

Oh, Ishbal--it was hot there, but that was nothing compared to the heat he felt on the inside.

He didn't understand the others; when they moped around the mess line. How could they not get the thrill of battle in this most perfect place? Some muttered about how this place sapped the life from the living--Hah! He had never felt so alive! Every time he stepped onto the battlefield to do his noble work, he couldn't keep back that excited tingle.

That feeling was wonderful, yes, but he didn't know that there were ways to make it feel so much better.

When they called him into a meeting that day, he never expected to be given that most wonderful gift.

An old, wrinkled, useless man had brought a box with him. At once, all the officers glimmered with excitement. Kimblee knew that excitement--it was the same rush he felt before a kill.

"Oh, the Philosopher's Stone!" "Wonderful!" "Once we have this, the war will be over quickly!" One of the starry-eyed officers picked it up--it was a small rock, blood red. Though being an alchemist himself, Kimblee sensed it wasn't just a rock. He could feel the power rushing through it; it gave him that same wonderful tingle that the battlefield gave him.

Oh yes, he must investigate this beautiful thing at once.

It was handed to him, and the moment he took it, he felt the most wonderful sensation. Yes, it belonged in his fingers. It felt so natural. Like it should only belong there and no where else.

"We're counting on you, Kimblee." They said, but Kimblee didn't look at them--what did he care about the expectations of pitiful humans? There was only one thing that interested his mind now.

"Of course," he said, licking his lips slightly while examining that tantalizing crimson stone. "I'll do my best."


For some reason, those foolish soldiers like to stop their fighting at night. Didn't they realize that one could take the rats off guard at night? Coming to slay them in the dark, like the Grim Reaper itself would terrify them like nothing else would. Instead, they flocked back to their bunks to write letters to family, or for the ones who didn't have one, visit the numerous whores who had gathered at the edge of the camp.

Unlucky for them, he wasn't the sort of man who felt any desire to visit a willing woman to let off his stress. There was nothing like the rush he felt using his talent; nothing.

Still, he had little to do but examine that stone. It was beautiful, sure, and he felt that power beneath its surface, but would this stone willingly work for him? Studying years ago, he learned the legends of this thing, but holding one in his hands was a bit...overwhelming. He couldn't help but run his fingers gently over the surface, as if he was afraid it would break to pieces if he touched it too hard.

It felt so fragile, but he knew better than to judge it at once. There was a fire there that no one could put out.

"Hmm...and what is it, little one, that you would like to do?" he asked in a gentle voice. "They want me to use you on the front lines, so will you help me?"

He had never asked anyone for help before. But now he felt as if he had to get on his hands and knees and beg. This thing had him completely wrapped around it.

But he didn't need to worry--it was like he could feel it in his soul. It wanted to hunt. It wanted to burn. Yes, yes, it would join him. It wanted to destroy all in its path. It would be his partner. His partner--for life.

But where would he keep it? He needed his hands upon the stone to use it, and with his hands so preoccupied in his work--ah, no matter. "Forgive me, but I believe we must become better acquainted." And, picking up the stone, he licked it. It didn't taste like a rock--it tasted of blood and flesh. So good. And then Kimblee held it between his teeth.

"How about we go enjoy a night on the town?"

They never knew where that explosion on the west end of the town came from, nor the one in the central forum or the old temples. All they knew was the body count--and that low, sinister laugh that echoed throughout the streets of Ishbal that night.

"Oh, you are wonderful," Kimblee sighed, satisfied, into his bunk that night, the Philosopher's Stone clenched firmly in his palm.

Day in, day out, and they were together. In borrowing its power, Kimblee felt like he was on fire. It was better than the tingle he felt before--oh so much better. After another glorious sound, Kimblee sighed, "Oh, you spoil me," to the stone--no his stone. It was his now. It would be his forever. He would let no one else touch it, ever again.

Those who looked at him funny as he marched off to battle, his stone clenched firmly in his teeth just didn't understand. The stone wasn't "just an object". It was as alive as they all were. But it would only ever show its wild side to him.

"You are mine. And you'll always be mine." Just like he would always be the stone's.

That was why he couldn't let them take it from him. That was why he'd rather risk prison than have them separate him from his adored Philosopher's Stone. They would always be together. With it, he could accomplish anything.

And one day, he would make it out. He and the stone would live to set ablaze this sinful earth once again. Because only the stone understood his vision, his dream.

Only one thing was needed to fulfill his life, and that was his beautiful, beloved Philosopher's Stone.
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Current Mood: awakeawake
(Anonymous) on March 18th, 2010 09:08 pm (UTC)
from MsLinn
That was very...special of you. Altough well written. :)
But, really, you've gotten into my brain! *SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 105*
The first (or second, maybe) thing I thought when I saw RanFan pick up the bottle-PS was "Oh, no! Kimblee and RanFan will be in-laws now!".
*END OF SPOILER* See, you're in my brain...