explosivecombat | 025. [Text/Action for the Rocket base in Goldenrod City]

025. [Text/Action for the Rocket base in Goldenrod City]

[TEXT]

[It's been something of a long day, really, though Kimblee really can't say why - there have been frustrations, surely, but nothing more than what he's accustomed to dealing with on a daily basis.

That said, however, there have still been frustrations. Whether he wants to deal with them or not. Right now there's currently a very large frustration that's been locked up in his closet again, just because the damn thing has neither psychic powers nor hands and it's taken to zapping the Pokéballs out of his grasp when he tries to recall it. Hopefully neither he nor Archer will need anything in that closet anytime soon, because this is just getting ridiculous...]

For those of you who have experience dealing with more...ah, difficult companions, how would you recommend dealing with them? Mind you, I'm not talking finicky, I'm talking about nigh-on homicidal; is there a way to repair one's relationship with them when it's that far gone, or should I just not even bother?

[Not that he knows what to do if the answer is "don't bother" because he suspects releasing a microchipped starter will go over like complete and utter hell, but that is beside the point.]

[ACTION]

[Kimblee isn't straying far from the base today; if anything, he's taken to holing himself up harder into it when he's not dealing with his psychopath of an Electrode. Letting the damn thing evolve had been a mistake; between that and all the other issues that he's very decidedly not wanting to discuss with anyone, he's more than happy to just shut himself in one of the training rooms and set it up to his liking.

Admittedly, the thing looks less like a proper training facility and more like the world's most suicidal parkour-based obstacle course; anyone who comes in to see what on earth's going on in here today may take a moment to find him, but that's likely because they just aren't looking high enough - he's settled on one of the world's most precariously-positioned ledges near the damn ceiling, legs crossed at the knee, and he's taking a moment to get his breath from whatever it was he was just doing.

Yes, he's still wearing the three-piece suit, complete with gloves, though his tie has come undone somewhat and his collar is slipping open; if you can get him to come the hell down from his position (and he'll be easily convinced, if he notices you) it'll become plain quickly enough that there are bandages wrapped around his throat, though there isn't any blood on them.

He seems pretty keyed-up there, though; outside of the vaguely unkempt appearance of his clothing, he's shaking somewhat and those two loose strands of hair at the front have been joined by a few others that have slipped loose from that long ponytail. His gaze is pretty manic-looking, though not to the point of looking like he'll bite anyone's face off just yet; at least there's that to be thankful for.]

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[It's not going to get any better, Archer, might as well strap yourself in.]

I did, yes. In a manner of speaking.

...In a manner of speaking?

[Oh boy... this is gonna be horrible, isn't it?]

What happened?

You implied you had returned to Amestris again - that it had been some time since you had seen me last. You couldn't give me an exact timeframe, however.

[His words are still overly calm, to the point of almost sounding flat; it's distinctly at odds with his expression. His gaze is starting to turn strange, a somewhat manic look making itself present in his eyes; the usual smirk is twisting a bit.]

Let's say I got to see what happened to you firsthand as a result of that array, and what they did to fix it.

You... what? What they did to fix it? They didn't...

[But he remembers hearing about automail and Archer freezes. He turns to face Kimblee slowly, trying to get his expression under control.]

Automail. They fitted me with automail, is that correct?

Did they ever.

...Tell me about it. It sounds like there's more to it than that.

[Kimblee doesn't respond immediately; he simply moves over to the desk, finding one of those journals he keeps and flipping it open to a blank page before finding a pen and sketching out a few things.

He remains standing the entire time, leaning forward over the desk, one hand braced on it to keep his balance; his hair is falling over one shoulder, still looking more than slightly unkempt.]

You seemed to have lost a fair amount of time, and a fair amount of mental function along with it - you were still speaking to me, it was coherent, but you didn't seem able to remember the difference between myself and others sometimes. It was very confusing, really - sometimes you seemed to think you had some sort of say in what had been done to you, at others you insisted that you hadn't had any; it was incredibly peculiar, not that the entire thing wasn't incredibly peculiar to start with, even though you seemed to think I shouldn't find it to be such.

[He's talking while he works; it soon becomes fairly clear that he isn't necessarily talking to Archer, regardless of the actual words he's using. His tone is distant and almost alarmingly blank, the sort of quality he gets when he's talking to fill silence; he doesn't seem to realize how incoherent he's getting, and honestly, even if Archer tries to interrupt him he likely won't notice.]

One thing was plain, you were very distressed about it; you broke that mirror I had in the base in Mahogany, though I've no doubt it's fixed itself by now, you know how it goes...and there were other parts to it than what I'm going to show you but we can discuss that later. Either way, as I said, incredibly distressed and more than a bit angry about it, and you wasted no time in telling me about it, you didn't seem to have much control over what you said...

[He pauses for a moment, looking down at that notebook as though he's considering before passing it over to Archer. His drawings are actually fairly good, if unrefined and allowing for the idea that anatomy isn't his strong suit; he's gotten the basic gist of the automail down, at any rate.]

That's it, more or less.

[Archer tries to find something to say. He knows he should interrupt Kimblee, tell him that he's talking more to himself than to Archer, but he can't quite find any way to intervene. The words aren't quite sinking in, if only because he can't imagine himself changing that much due to automail. Yes, the automail would be extensive and the instillation would be painful, but it shouldn't change him that much, right?

He takes the notebook numbly, staring down at the drawing. It briefly occurs to him that Kimblee is better at this than he thought he'd be, but then the actual design sinks in and Archer laughs.]

You're kidding. Please tell me you're kidding.

[He knows Kimblee isn't. Kimblee wouldn't joke about something like this.]

This is what the automail looked like? This is what they did to me!?

[His voice rises with that, though it's shaking by the time he gets to the end of his question. The very idea of being fit with something so grotesque horrifies him.]

There's no way. There's no way...

[Kimblee doesn't seem to be responding very well, even as he watches Archer processing the drawings he's been given; he remains where he is by the desk, hands folded behind his back, head tipped slightly to the side. He's smiling, but the expression is dissonant, completely at odds with the look in his eyes.]

You weren't capable of speaking normally, by the way; they seemed to have installed something that would translate strong enough thoughts into sound. That's what that...device is for on the left side of your head. It was rather disconcerting, really.

[Archer's hands are shaking and the paper is making it obvious. He carefully sets the drawing down (though really all he wants to do is crumple it up and throw it in the nearest trash can) and rests his hands on the table to keep them from shaking. That doesn't stop his shoulders from shaking - it almost looks like he's trying to contain laughter. He's really not sure if he is. He's not sure what to think.]

Of course. Of course they did.

[He does laugh then, the sound jagged and about as far from sanity as one's laughter can get.]

Isn't that just great? They turned me into a weapon! Literally! They kept me alive to use me as a weapon!

[Kimblee has always said that he was a weapon. Archer can't understand how Kimblee would be okay with that idea. It's filling him with fury.]

I can't believe this! Why the hell would they do something like that? Why!?

[He moves to begin pacing, hands clenching and releasing reflexively. He doesn't seem to have much control over himself anymore, if the shaking and suppressed laughter is any indication.]

[It's only when Archer starts pacing again that Kimblee moves, stepping forward into Archer's path to intercept him, resting one hand firmly on Archer's shoulder as though to stop him while running the other backwards, lightly, through his hair. There's no wariness behind the gesture; why should there be? It's not like Archer has immediate control of four feet of reinforced steel capable of coming down on his head, nor is there the threat of being shot. The most Archer can do now is push him away, if he really doesn't like it. Hit him, maybe, though Kimblee will just hit him back if he tries it. More likely, if he doesn't want to be touched he'll just freeze up and yell.

Kimblee's never taken well to Archer yelling at him, but it's kind of impressive how nonthreatening that seems in comparison to what he had been facing for that entire weekend.

His gaze still isn't very focused; his hand trembles a bit against Archer's hair. But at the very least his words are calm.]

I don't know, Archer.

[He allows his eyes to slide closed; again, there's nothing much that Archer can threaten him with that would make that too directly terrible an idea.]

What's relevant now is that nothing of the sort can happen here; even if it could, you've tasked me with your protection and you know I wouldn't allow it. You're fine, as long as you're here.

[Archer stands there trembling while Kimblee speaks, once again trying to find something to say. He doesn't move, but he doesn't really lean into Kimblee's touch either, at least, not until Kimblee's finally statement.

He latches onto Kimblee's suit immediately, gripping the jacket tightly and leaning into Kimblee's shoulder.]

...Yes... yes, I know I'm fine here. As long as I have you, nothing like that will happen.

[He knows that he won't have Kimblee when he returns home and the automail will happen - assuming that wasn't some alternate version of himself, but he's not exactly in the right state of mind to come to that conclusion - but for the time being, he's perfectly content to believe that Kimblee can keep him safe. It's not something he'd ever really realized he needed; not here, at least. Kimblee can protect him. It's such a relief he's not sure what to do with it.]

[Kimblee flinches a little when Archer grabs him, but he doesn't try to push him away; he just continues playing with his hair, seeming rather content to do that until Archer relaxes a bit. He's not about to complain; the motion is a calming one for both of them, after all.]

And you're aware that I'm not going anywhere; I intend to remain in your service as long as you want me to be.

Of course. I won't dismiss you.

[There's no hesitation in the words; it's something Archer has always tried to say but never quite expressed it properly; he has no intention of letting Kimblee leave his service, voluntarily or not. He doesn't know what he'll do if Johto sends Kimblee away again. His grip tightens a bit before he forces himself to relax.]

You've been good to me. I would never dismiss you.

[...mm, that does bring up something else from that weekend, doesn't it.]

...you said something about that to me, actually - during that weekend, I mean.

Ah, did I? What was it?

[He's kind of curious about what all he said, but at the same time, he doesn't really want to know.]

[He doesn't blame you, really.]

You said something about how you would consider ordering me to stay with you, if you didn't think that I would resent you for it.

[Archer winces at that, and he's glad that Kimblee can't see his face.]

I would never do that.

[...Because he knows Kimblee would resent him for it.]

...you wouldn't do it because you don't want to, or you wouldn't do it because I would resent you?

[He doesn't sound bothered, at least; just curious.]

[Ugh, do you really need to ask that question...?]

...You'd resent me...

[That's kind of muffled into Kimblee's shoulder, but whatever.]

[Well, he can't have you sounding more virtuous than you are.]

I would, yes, but only because such orders aren't necessary.

[...]

They aren't?

[......]

Well, of course they aren't. You've said you'll stay with me numerous times before.

[...It's still nice to hear it, okay.]

Of course I will. So don't let that sort of thing concern you, hm?

[He steps back, though he isn't trying to break contact entirely; just getting some space for the time being.]

Was there anything else that you wanted to know, regarding that weekend?

[Archer lets Kimblee move, letting go of his suit and absently moving to straighten his own uniform. He's never really sure what to do with himself when Kimblee pulls away like that, but it's not like Kimblee can hug on him forever.]

Is there anything else worth knowing? Ah, I suppose... was it there for all three days? I imagine that must have been horrifying.

[To say the least... And of course he doesn't refer to this other version of himself as a "he"; this other version of himself was a weapon. An "it".]

[Kimblee notices, though he doesn't draw attention to it; honestly, he can't say that he wouldn't be doing the same thing, were he in Archer's situation, and he shifts easily to match pronouns.]

All three days, yes; we were somewhat concerned that it would continue to be there after those three days were up, as I wouldn't have the means to sustain it at all. There were all sorts of physical requirements that couldn't be met; I really couldn't have done anything outside of let it die.

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025. [Text/Action for the Rocket base in Goldenrod City]

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