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"You understand, Major Kimbly?"
"Yeah, sure." he murmured a reply, staring distantly out of the window of the passenger train.
"You're not listening..." Brigadier General Archer sighed, shutting the notebook. He sat across from his dazed subordinate, whom continued in his own thoughts.
Brigadier General Frank ARcher was a man that wanted power, any way he could get it. And not just any power-that of the military. His loyalties lied with Fuhrer King Bradley, and almost no one else.
As for Major Zolf Kimbly? He had no ture loyalties. Not to the State, the Fuhrer, or anyone.Called the Mad-Bomber by many, Kimbly's passion-his obsession- was making things, or more likely people, explode.
Brigadier Archer had just recruited the crazed former prisoner as his second-in-command. Kimbly's amazingly golden eyes came out of their fog, and looked at his superior, as the train slowed.
"So this is Lior?" Kimbly asked him, finally zoned back into reality.
"That is correct." Archer replied simply.
"Shitty place to live; Perfect place to fight." The crimson alchemist raised his eyebrows.
"Spoken like a true soldier."
"It's my job, right?"
"Precisely."
With a sharp jolt, the train lurched forward to a stop, and one-by-one people began to rise from their seats, gathering their luggage. These two soldiers followed suit, Kimbly taking the liberty to grab both bags of luggage as Archer led the way, armed with only his thick notebook. The small train station was bustling with activity, and it took a while for everyone to unload. Eventually, the First Lieutenant with the room assignments made his way to them.
"Major Kimbly, Brigadier General Archer!" The two officers stopped, confronted by the small, busy Lt., whom saluted sloppily before speaking again. "Sirs, you have both been placed in room 113, sorry for any inconvenience." He handed the room key to Archer, saluting hurriedly again, before rushing off.
Our Brigadier General looked around, noticing that the sky was now a dark crimson, the air cooling.
Kimbly stirred slightly, shuffling for something in his breast pocket. "I hate being around people..." he murmured, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it, ignoring the glares from non-smoking bystanders.
"Let's move, Major Kimbly." Archer grabbed his subordinate's arm firmly, guiding him away from the train station, and into the large mass of a government complex, where fewer people currently resided. The two continued on their way in silence, Kimbly slowly puffing on his cigarette, the two duffel bags hoisted over his shoulders; Archer contemplating war strategies. By the time they reached the apartment, the sky was a definite purple, and the General opened the door of his own accord, walking into the good-sized room before Kimbly even had a chance to see the place. When the crimson alchemist did see it, he was fairly impressed by the tidiness, and size of the room, but there was one problem. The apartment had only one bed. It may have been a large bed, but still...
"Inconvenience is right." The Major murmured, shutting the door after rubbing out his cigarette between the heel of his boot and the concrete outside. He neglected the bags sloppily just inside the door. "Someone's got issues with who goes where."
Archer began to fiddle with a stack of papers sitting on the desk, reading the signatures off the bottoms of most of them. "You can blame Brigadier General Mustang for this, if you wish."
"Really, now?" Kimbly lazily removed his State Jacket, draping it over a chair. The crimson alchemist was relived to be out of the cramped jail, and even if it may be awkward, he would be sleeping in a real bed for the first time in years. Kimbly sighed, plopping down on the large bed and stretching out.
The Brigadier General smirked, looking at his young subordinate. "Do you always have a knack of insubordination, Major?" He sat the papers on the table again, making his way towards the alchemist as he spoke.
The Mad Bomber glanced up at his superior. "Ah, c'mon, chief. We're both dogs of war, chain of command isn't that important." From his position, belly-up on the bed, he kicked off his shoes, not watching where they landed.
"Even dogs need obedience." Archer grew silent, and crawled on top of the bed, above Kimbly. The younger man looked up at him, perplexed.
"What the hell?" The alchemist tried to sit up, but Archer caught him bu the wrists, forcing him back down onto the bed with uncomfortable pressure. The crimson alchemist was almost dumbfounded by his superior's newly revealed strength, now finding that under the man, it was hard to move. Archer put his mouth inches from Kimbly's ear. "Someone needs to dicipline you."
"Bastard." Kimbly muttered in reply in reply as the Brigadier General put both of the alchemist's wrists in his left hand, steering clear of the man's palms, and freeing up his own right hand to strip his subordinate.
Kimbly attempted to resist, twisting his wrists, trying to free his only way of defense, but the more he moved, the more pressure was applied to his wrists, until the point where he was gritting his teeth, to not cry out from the pain. Once Archer applied his strength the Kimbly's wrists, he did not let off, and looked the alchemist directly in the eyes as his right hand drifted southward on the other's body. Kimbly's bright amber eyes were filled with a look of pure loathing, which made Archer anticipate the event even more, as he loved a good fight. "That's right, don't cry out. If you do, I'll only make it worse." As he talked, Archer tugged at the zipper of Kimbly's pants, sliding off the clothing, with boxers, with one swift movement of his right hand. Kimbly squirmed again, inducing more pain from the General's deathgrip on his wrists, and Kimbly was sure that they couldn't handle that much pressure, but he was snapped back into reality when Archer spoke, "If this is the only way I can get respect from you, then so be it." he hissed, his free hand moving down Kimbly's crotch, as he forced two fingers past his subordinate's tight ring of muscle, scissoring back and forth dryly.
"Ah!" Kimbly arched his back off the bed slightly, "..stop..."
"Stop? I just got started." The tone in the Brigadier General's voice was different, more sadistic, a tone that Kimbly was only accustomed to hearing in his own voice.
The more movement Archer added, now with a third finger, the more Kimbly was tempted to squirm or cry out, and his concentration was finally broken, as he tried to jerk away from Archer involuntarily. The Brigadier General increased the pressure one last time, the action being echoed by a fairly muffled snapping noise from the direction of Kimbly's wrists.
Archer removed his fingers, giving the alchemist a moment of peace from one thing as he took the time to remove his own jacket and shirt, finally unzipping his pants, and pulling out his own hard member.which was almost pulsating with anticipation. The Brigadier General finally let go of Kimbly's wrists, and the alchemist made no attempt to retaliate with alchemy, as he wouldn't have been able to summon up enough strength to do so. Kneeling between Kimbly's legs, Archer pushed his member past the tight ring of muscle, harshly.
Kimbly closed his eyes, moaning in torment, of both his wrists, and what Archer was currently doing to him.
Gripping the alchemist's hip with his hands, Archer worked up a rhythm, forceful and fast. As Kimbly neared his reluctant climax, he brought his hands, wrists undeniably sore, up to Archer's back, and as the blinding sensation filled him, he raked his jagged nails down his superior's back, drawing long lines of blood. Archer flinched slightly, slowly stopping his movement, feeling Kimbly go limp, his arms dropping back onto the bed, as he had lost consciousness out of pain. The Brigadier General pulled out, and collapsed on the bed next to Kimbly only after fastening his pants back together.
The look upon Frank Archer's face as he drifted into sleep was that of a twisted satisfaction.

-END: Chapter 1: Stare Fixedly-