When one door shuts... [Complete]

[touchofcrimson]

Characters: Zolf J. Kimbley, Vincent Valentine
Setting: Entrance Room
Time: Day 15
Summary: Arrival of a new houseguest.
Warnings: Uh. Mild violence? As Raile says, they get on like a house on fire.

Comments

[touchofcrimson]

Too late, Kimbley heard the footsteps behind him. So he wasn't alone. The voice was male, low, and carried no hint of friendliness. With that kind of tone, one might hesitate to face its source.

Instead, he closed his eyes again, seemingly ignoring the newcomer for the moment, concentrating on the door. It felt like any other door he'd encountered, mostly wood, metal in the hinges. So why was it still standing

Nah, don't be :)

[touchofcrimson]

The pleased look that flickered across his face as the gun was finally removed vanished instantly as his back met the wall none too gently. His smile jerked, last vestiges of politeness slipping away into that cruel and vicious baring of teeth as his hands instantly clapped together, feeling the alchemical power well up in his palms, itching to be released.

He was only too happy to comply.

The claws digging into his throat were sharp, unyielding, but he paid them no heed, both hands shooting out and clamping about the other's arm. He focused, alchemy crackling out from his palms, darting towards soft, vulnerable flesh, ready to tear the very molecules apart, bloodlust welling up in those yellow, eager eyes --

What the --

It resisted his touch, bonds held at impossible angles, strange and this wasn't possible --Suddenly that brilliant smile reappeared, that calm mask returning as he scrutinized Valentine. The glow of alchemy faded, but he didn't release his grasp, clearing his throat before he spoke, giving the tiniest prod of his

....this is escalating badly.

[nightmareofsin]

Vincent's talons closed around Kimbley's throat, his muscles tightening as the man's teeth were bared, the sharp metal tips of Vincent's claws digging into flesh as blue electricity crackled over the golden plating, the lancing pain penetrating past muscle as he tightened his jaw, trying to hold control--Kimbley recovered sooner than he did, suddenly replacing the veneer, the alchemy dissipating as Vincent's grip tightened further. He didn't let go, his fingers clenched around the man's neck--if he'd had feeling in that part of the hand, he might have felt something, maybe even something strange, but he had none... and he was past the point of subtle observation and into genuine anger.

--What are you?--

"Answer my question first," he growled, the lingering ache enervating his muscle and threatening his grip--if he was not careful, he might drop him.

Or he might, just might, accidentally cut his throat.

[touchofcrimson]

Kimbley would have laughed, but the claws around his throat prevented more than an amused wheeze. The stone in his throat shifted, but a small adjustment put it right, safely tucked away from the sharp edges biting into his skin.

"Zolf J. Kimbley," he enunciated as carefully as he could, voice slightly raspy from the tightened grip, yet still genial, almost friendly. "The Crimson Alchemist. If you like, you may look up the records in Central."

He shifted to make himself as comfortable as he could, mind whirling with the possibilities. This wasn't a homunculus, they were easy to spot, in any case, and weren't ones to hide. The shapeshifter would have tired of this game long before this point. So what was this man?

At least he'd pushed him into clear anger -- those held by the sway of their emotions were always easier to manipulate.

[nightmareofsin]

Vincent stared at him, his face creasing in rage--

--then suddenly released the man, letting go of his throat and stepping back, drawing his claw back into his cloak, his head bwing down just a little to be masked even further by the high red collar. His black hair fell into his face, shielding it from view.

'Zolf. J. Kimbley.' It sounded ridiculous, a stupid, childish attempt at a pseudonym, maybe some kind of anagram or something similar, but for the life of him Vincent couldn't figure out what it was supposed to mean. Was this all there was? Could this really be all there was to it?

Maybe he was overreacting....

'Look it up in Central.' Where was Central?

"Kimbley."

[touchofcrimson]

The sudden cessation of the hold gave him only a split second in which to collect himself. Unfortunately, he only half-succeeded, landing somewhat hard, though not roughly enough to cause damage. Pushing himself back upright, he tilted his head back slightly, keeping a lazily amused gaze on Vincent as he probed his neck with long fingers, frowning at bloodied fingertips. Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out a white handkerchief, wiping off his hand carefully before dabbing at the cut.

"Yes?" he drawled back, the picture of nonchalance. If one hadn't seen the wild, hungry look in his eyes only minutes prior, one might have believed this man incapable of such feral fury.

[nightmareofsin]

Vincent, however, had seen it, seen it too well, and for a moment he stood, his face hidden but muscles half-tense, as though on the verge of enacting something. Then suddenly he shook his head, turning on his heel with a sweep of his cloak... and walking away.

This was too familiar.

Too unfamiliar.

He didn't know what was... he had to get out of here, clear his head. He couldn't...

He had to think this through. What was going on?

Was he really... was he going crazy?

Was this in his head?

He...

[touchofcrimson]

Now that wouldn't do.

It appeared that Valentine was finished with his own examination, but he certainly wasn't. Not after what he'd felt, something so unusual even the homunculi paled in comparison. After a quick check to ensure that he hadn't stained his collar, he sauntered after the man (was it a man? It appeared to be a man, and it was hardly the moment to debate a proper identifier), not bothering to raise his voice.

"I've answered your query, yet you have not replied to mine."

His only possible source of answers at the moment was clanking away at a fairly rapid pace. Lengthening his stride a little, he caught up, looking with interest about him. Foremost in his mind remained a question of which way is out? Was he locked in again? Frowning at the thought, Kimbley slanted a glance at Valentine, attempting to analyze the man's expression. A strange guard they had chosen, if that was the case.

Short tag is short. <_>

[nightmareofsin]

There was a spark of surprise--and, simultaneously, annoyance--as the man followed, but Vincent kept walking, effectively ignoring Kimbley as he stalked back through the foyer, past the piano, his cloak trailing behind him. There was a faint clanking of metal as the plating on his boots struck the marble flooring, his face set and eyes fixed forward--it did not appear he was going to answer Kimbley at all, if ever.

He was deep in thought, back in his mind; Kimbley reminded him of too many people, too many different things, both familiar, and, irrationally, unfamiliar--his eyes narrowed, his focus shifting just the slightest bit with the question... or rather, the reminder. But he still said nothing.

No worries!

[touchofcrimson]

The splendor of this strange place was continued in the next room, Kimbley observed. Curiously, he reached out, fingers crackling again with that alchemical power as he lightly trailed his fingers over the edge of a rich mahogany table, thin black lines burned elegantly into the wood, leaving smoldering sparks as they passed. So his power was limited by the door? He'd felt no alchemical bounds, but it was true he'd had only a cursory examination...

As for Valentine -- clearly the man was not a man, yet he was not a chimera. Those very composition of his flesh was beyond any warping he'd seen before, even in the creatures Pride had seen fit to send with him. A pity it didn't seem inclined to elaborate on its own.

"You are most unusual, Mr. Valentine." It might have sounded like flattery, but that was hardly Kimbley's intention as he probed for information. "Is the Fifth Laboratory responsible?"

Re: No worries!

[nightmareofsin]

--Laboratory--

Vincent jerked to a stop, his eyes suddenly darting to Kimbley and pinning him, the irises smouldering with a glare that threatened far worse than death or destruction, far worse than merely dangerous, his left arm crossing over his chest for just a moment as he stared at him, his red eyes boring into Kimbley's with an intensity of hate, of anger, of heat and polarity that might have lasted a millenia but in fact lasted only a handful of seconds before he swept past him, his metal shoes clanking on the stairs.

There was no absolution in that stare.

Sorry for the delay!

[touchofcrimson]

Unfortunately for Valentine, such a threat -- familiar in a way, so much like other red eyes ablaze, only in tan faces, white teeth bared in animalistic rage and fear -- merely piqued Kimbley's interest further. He simply smiled back in the way he knew others found frustratingly polite, though a hint of his previous demeanor surfaced unbidden. The usual phone call would be considerably more interesting tonight, given that Wrath had certainly left something out in his briefings

...you say before I suddenly don't tag for TWO DAYS.

[nightmareofsin]

Vincent, however, was done. He'd had enough of being mocked, jerked around, and toyed with. He kept going, his eyes slitted, picking up his pace as he reached the top of the landing, his red cloak rippling behind him--then suddenly turned, his metal claw transforming to a fist, flashing gold on black and red as it shot out from under the fabric, hooking straight for Kimbley's jaw.

It wasn't just the condescension--Kimbley's mannerism, his familiarity grated on him, edging on all the things he hated most, remembered worst...

In Rufus, in the Turks and SOLDIER, in Shinra Sr, in Hojo--

[touchofcrimson]

Kimbley gave a soft noise of amusement as the man simply clanked away faster, eyes fixed on that tense frame as he followed, joining Valentine on the landing.

"I said," he began, before he noticed several things.

One, Valentine was no longer facing away from him.

Two, that automail was headed straight for his face, an encounter that would surely prove most painfully unnecessary.

The solid crack as the metal slammed into Kimbley's jaw reverberated through his skull, nearly dazing him, startling a growl of pain out of him. He'd managed to get back just a little, barely enough to take the edge off, enough to let him bring arrays together in a deadly clap

Mah, okay, regular tagging resumed!

[nightmareofsin]

Vincent was nearly surprised that he missed, then surprised he hadn't completely--it almost would have made sense, for him not to be able to hit the man, but no; instead he felt the impact of metal striking bone through flesh, glancingly sending vibrations up his claw to his actual nerves, then the flash of light hit, blinding him--

Vincent lost most of the next second to the light, save for the memory of a single, rather inexplicable clap, but came back to Kimbley, his face illuminated and cast into stark contrast for another half-moment... and split into a wicked, diabolical smile.

'Half an hour?'

Vincent stared at Kimbley flatly for a moment, incomprehending, then the knit of anger returned to has face--he raised his claw, intending to seize the man again (and honestly, for the last time)... and stopped.

...his clawtips...

... black?

argh, short.

[touchofcrimson]

"Half an hour." The confirmation was delivered in a satisfied, off-hand way as Kimbley cast a critical eye over his handiwork. "Or twenty-nine minutes and ten seconds, actually. Then I'm afraid you won't have that automail much longer." A rather unusual alloy -- similar to the man himself, if not quite as temperamental. As the oxidation had clearly begun, however, it was only a matter of time.

Even as he stood alert -- he chided himself for such a slow reaction, he'd have to do something about that, that stint in prison notwithstanding -- he regarded Valentine curiously. Precisely what sort of reaction would this provoke?

"Now, if you would kindly answer my question."