02x. [Action - Fourth Wall Event]

[explosivecombat]

[It's been a surprisingly explosion-free few days.

It's not that Kimblee doesn't enjoy having his alchemy back, as he certainly does. However, he doesn't have a proper outlet for it (..."proper") and there's that battle recently, odd and dreamlike and just kind of hovering on the outer edges of his memory - he suspects it wasn't quite a dream and there's been more than enough evidence to back that up, but really, there's not much to be done about it.

So he's restless as hell. Restless as hell is never a good thing.

Today he's got Ayanami out with him, and they appear to be exchanging blows; whether encouraging this with something that's actively tried to kill him in the past is a good idea or not is apparently of no consequence to him today, since he seems to be having a grand old time either way - the shocks she's sending at him are being countered with sharp snaps of his hands coming together and whips of energy detonating in midair when they connect with the electricity, and the explosions are loud and he isn't flinching at them in the least, and the look in his eyes is getting manic.]

Again - come now, you can do better than that!

[That's about the point when Ayanami decides to prove that she can, in fact, do better than that; she waits until the next time he fires off one of those explosive currents and promptly Mirror Coats him, and he's suddenly very, very grateful that getting kicked out of Johto for a month and a half seems to have done wonders for his spine because holy shit, nothing like having an explosion rebounded at you for double the damage, getting the hell out of the way is probably prudent.

But then the air clears and Kimblee is laughing like this is the greatest damn thing he's ever seen, and he's looking a bit of a mess but hey, at least he's happy, even if he's probably deaf as hell after that - ]

That's more like it; absolutely beautiful!

[...right. Well, either way, he doesn't seem to mind.]



[OOC: He can be run into just about anywhere because Johto is, as usual for these things, completely on the blink; he's going to be a bit...um, excited no matter where you happen to run into him because yay alchemy, but you are more than welcome to put him where you want him - he'll be ending up in Goldenrod after the event, however, so he'll definitely be there at some point!]

Comments

[dixiechick]

[And here, for one brief and fleeting blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, there's a flash of something in her eyes that can really only be described as abject terror. It's fast like a crack of lightning, and in the next instant it's gone, but for a moment she's shaken and in the next she's forcing the word out as fast as she can.]

Nothing.

[He never does anything to her. He never does anything. And people always come back when he takes them out alone.]

[explosivecombat]

[For the briefest of moments something in his gaze shifts; it sharpens, and he's fully aware of what that pushed-out word means, and it sends a bolt of something dark and cold through his system before he can really work out why.

But the moment passes, and he's tilting his head a little at her again, and he's smiling as though nothing had just happened.]

Come with me, then, and we'll see about helping you get back. If you'd like I'll go back with you, and put in a good word to Mr. Dixon. No harm done.

[Come on, we're going this way, and you're getting a gesture indicating that you'd best follow.]

In the meantime, tell me about yourself, Miss Sandiego.

[dixiechick]

[She's...not really sure she likes the way he's looking at her, there (he's smiling, but she's not sure if he's really smiling, if that even makes sense at all, and she's not sure if it does), but she knows an order when she hears one and he's...at least seemingly trying to help her out, and goodness knows she could use a good word every once in a while. Every little bit helps.

And so she follows along, obedient as ever, preoccupying herself with the admittedly difficult task of trying to come up with something about herself worth even saying.

...

It takes her a while.]

I'm...he came to get me out of prison about...a few years now. I still...I almost always get caught, still, but it's always...all right. Even when I'm a f...

[She swallows.]

He always forgives me. So I...I must still be useful. I can be useful, still.

[explosivecombat]

[That cutoff is odd for him; it's been a while, but spending so long in the military has ensured that the word she cut off registers as "fuckup" in his head, and it's so uncharacteristic that he glances over at her.]

Were you in prison? I've been there myself; I spent many years in solitary confinement - it's unpleasant business.

[He pauses for a moment, more to consider what he's about to say than genuinely hesitating; he's able to keep his tone even when he continues.]

My employers ensured that I got out as well eventually...so believe me, I understand needing to be useful for one's employers.

[dixiechick]

[She nods, somehow a little glad to hear that he's been to prison, too. Evidently he'd handled it much better than she had, but still, there's...there's something to it. Like maybe he's just a little better situated to understand, somehow, or like there's a chance they might be a little closer from the rapport of the shared experience.

A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. And she can hope.]

We were stealing a Rembrandt. He...he knew better, and got away, and I was headstrong and got caught. Now he runs the criminal empire, VILE. I still go back to prison sometimes, but never for long.

[explosivecombat]

[...hmmm...]

Because he breaks you out of prison again, I'd imagine. And then he forgives you.

[dixiechick]

[She nods again.]

It's an awful lot of trouble to go to, but...

[explosivecombat]

...Tell me a bit about what you do for this organization of yours. What sort of missions you go on.

[dixiechick]

Oh, I steal whatever Mr. Dixon wants me to. Most of it is period pieces from the Civil War, but sometimes it's paintings or money, things like that.

[explosivecombat]

Do you enjoy it?

[dixiechick]

...I like my motorcycle.

[WAIT, WAIT, HOLD ON.]

I mean, um, it's not really mine — it's just the one I use sometimes. But the...the getaway, when I can...drive. I like that.

[explosivecombat]

If you were to stay around a bit longer, I would have to ask you to show me sometime; I can't drive, you see.

[dixiechick]

You can't?

[She just looks at him, like this is an utterly foreign concept.]

[explosivecombat]

[Honestly, that look is the most promising thing he's seen over the course of this entire encounter.]

No, I can't.

[dixiechick]

[She fidgets a bit again. Licks her lips. Looks like she wants to say something, musters some nerve...]

If there were one around, I...

[...would probably crash it and get everyone concerned grievously injured and that'd be one more screw-up to add to the tally book.]

...n-nothing. I'm sorry.

[explosivecombat]

[Oh, there we go.]

We could steal one, you know. I think I know where we could.

[dixiechick]

...Maybe you could steal one...

[explosivecombat]

Need I remind you that I can't drive? I'd need you to do it.

[dixiechick]

Then maybe it's not such a good idea...

[The "I'll get caught" is so palpable it need not even be said.]

[explosivecombat]

You'll be fine; I won't let you be arrested if you're not.

[It's not even "I'll break you out"; it's "I won't allow it in the first place."]

Come on.

[dixiechick]

[...Sir. ♥]

O-Okay.

[Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.]

[explosivecombat]

There's an organization that I've had a bit of a dispute with for some time; I'm sure they won't mind if we borrow one of their vehicles for a while.

[The place he leads her to isn't terribly far, once they're off the route; the Team Rocket base in Goldenrod has always had its fair share of motorized transportation, even if Kimblee has never been allowed near any of it (and for good reason, given that he's never learned how to drive and so all land vehicles are out, and the one time he's been in a helicopter his first act was to scare the hell out of everyone by gripping the top of the door, stepping down onto the landing skid and leaning out as far as humanly possible in order to look at the ground zooming past below him); if he's going to be honest, he doesn't even know what a motorcycle is, not really. It's never been explained to him and it's not like there are that many around; he just sort of...hopes there's one in there now.

Welcome to the motor pool, Carmen.]

[dixiechick]

[What gives her away, then, is her brisk intake of breath at the sight of the polished metal and glittering chrome; there's more here than just motorcycles, there's vans and garbage trucks and helicopters, and what matters is that it all moves and to see it all laid out there before her just makes it look like it's all ripe for the taking.

For a minute, though, she's hesitant, and that's because she doesn't see the pod of motorcycles at first; for a second there's that nagging doubt that he might've misled her somehow (because of course he wouldn't be wrong, she's the one that's wrong, or just stupid), and she's going to come out of this all the worse for it. But then she peers around and she spots them, and she almost can't manage to stay in place rather than running over to examine them at full tilt.

She does, however, stay in place, and looks at him with the eagerness of a puppy waiting to be let off its lead to go play in the park.]

They're beautiful...

[explosivecombat]

Well, are you going to steal one, or are you just going to look at them?

[He pauses, and he doesn't even bother to look at her because he can just sense the impending falter and the "...steal...one...?" pitched up like a question at the end, and he continues before she can even start because if she's going there he doesn't want to hear it.]

Go ahead.

[dixiechick]

[And again, for a minute she just sort of quivers there like a leaf in the wind, evidently processing the direction and trying to collect some semblance of the nerve to proceed with acting on it, and then like a bowstring pulled too tight, it snaps; one minute she's there and the next she's off and running, and she's already got her target picked out and when she gets there she's looking it over like an eager child on Christmas — running gloved fingertips over the handlebars, examining every inch of the body, barely daring to believe that she can (and she's going to) make off with this.

To her credit, though, hotwiring the thing goes fast, and the rumbling growl of the engine coming to life is enough to make her breath quicken.]

I've got it!

[Yes, just...announce that to the whole motor pool, dear.]