(no subject)

[terminarcher]

Who: Archer and anyone!
When: Evening, September 1st
Where: The Plaza
Style: Action
Status: Open!

[Frank Archer has never seen the ocean. It's a shame his first view of it has to be from underwater.

He's not a man who would attract a lot of unwanted attention normally; he's quite average-looking if one ignores the pale skin and bright blue military uniform. But this is hardly normal. He hasn't been normal for months. The man walking through the plaza is not average at all; he's sporting a mechanical arm and leg that are hooked up to him in a way that makes it look like he's going to fall over at any given moment. The mechanical arm isn't just horrifying, it appears to be some sort of massive gun. In fact, it looks as though the man himself was given the mechanics to support the gun.

Archer's military uniform is still drenched, but that isn't stopping him from examining his surroundings. He's not entirely sure if his automail will still function when wet (one of those nasty side effects of being so drugged up for the majority of your operations, but no matter) but it seems to be doing fine and he's not one to waste time.

He doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that he's talking to himself. His mouth doesn't move when he speaks and his voice has a mechanical edge to it that wasn't there months before when he was still fully human.]

...obviously this isn't Amestris. Is this some sort of afterlife? Impossible. There's no such thing. There's nothing after death. But then what is this place? How did I get here? Why am I here?

[He stops and turns to consider the civilians. He rotates the gun arm so that the gun is in use.]

There are ways to get answers quickly, of course. Plenty of ways.

[The gun arm is then pointed toward the closest crowd of civilians and Archer raises his voice enough to be heard.]

I require information about this place. I will not have you waste my time with trivial information. Where am I? Why am I here? What is this place?

[...well, that's certainly one way to make an entrance...]

Comments

[fulmination]

<sub>[Lamufao should probably do something about this, shouldn't it?

Okay, no, it's a coral. Coral doesn't do much, does it? If Archer's appearance didn't already have his attention, the mention of Amestris certainly grabbed it. With Fullmetal and Mustang no longer in the city and Hawkeye in one of those mysterious comas that foreigners seem to find themselves falling into, Kimblee has taken to searching for other ways to keep himself busy.

How?

By pestering the hell out of everyone, clearly.]</sub>

You might get a better answer when you're not threatening them at gunpoint, you know.

[terminarcher]

I find threats work better than--

[He cuts himself off there when he gets a good look at the man speaking to him. The voice doesn't sound exactly the same (though nothing does thanks to the automail), his hair is different (good, he got rid of that damn mullet), and he's definitely wearing different clothes (much classier ones, Archer approves); but it's definitely Kimbley. He can pick out the differences easily, but the similarities are far too uncanny. Archer reacts without noticing, he lowers the gun arm and stares at Kimblee in confusion.]

...Kimbley? What are you doing here?

[Is this an afterlife, then? They're both dead, what else could it be?]

For that matter, where are we? What is this place?

[fulmination]

_[wat.]

I'm sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.

<sub>[It's got to be the only explanation, really. Half-automail aside, Kimblee doesn't recognize Archer's face at all. Though there was always the chance of this being another Edward Incident.

But then again, it's Edward.]</sub>

Though to answer your questions in order; I don't fully know myself, and we're in Vatheon.

[terminarcher]

No. You were there in South Headquarters and then I recruited you... then there was Liore...

[But the confused look deepens and Archer's suddenly not sure. Maybe it is just a coincidence. Maybe this man really isn't Kimbley.]

What is your name? Are you from Amestris?

[It's possible that Kimbley just doesn't remember, right? He might as well start there. The information about this world is put aside for now; this is far more important.]

[fulmination]

I am. My name is Solf J. Kimblee, though it sounds like you already knew that.

<sub>[Though the mention of Liore does get a curious look out of Kimblee, he doesn't push that button.

Yet.]</sub>

However I'm certain this is all a misunderstanding. If we met, I'd remember you.

_{[Automail aside, Archer would be rather hard to forget about.]}

[terminarcher]

[The differing first names (Solf verses Zolf) is lost on Archer - his hearing obviously isn't what it used to be.]

But I know you. You're the Crimson Alchemist - I reinstated you to the military after you escaped from prison. You stayed at that bar in Dublith - the Devil's Nest - don't you remember that?

[fulmination]

_{[.......oh. Maybe Fullmetal really was onto something.]}

Oh, come now. If I wanted to escape, I would've done it whenever I wanted.

_{[It would've been simple enough with the Philosopher's Stone he brought with him, but Kimblee wasn't that stupid. Archer what was wrong with your Kimbley, seriously.]}

I was released under orders from the Fuhrer.

[terminarcher]

[No, that's not possible. The Fuhrer wouldn't have released Kimbley - he was very reluctant to reinstate Kimbley and it took quite some time to convince him that it would be a good idea. What the hell is going on here?]

...I don't understand. That didn't happen.

[fulmination]

Then the only explanation I can think of is that Fullmetal put me on the right track. Though I'm still a bit hesitant to believe it fully myself, there have been a few signs already that point to that. You claim I escaped--Personally, that idea seems a little absurd... Another thing, you claim you reinstated me into the military, but I don't remember you at all which is very strange; I don't tend to forget people that easily. An alternate Amestris is looking likely now that I look at it from this angle.

_{[Let's see, what else did he dig up from Ed... Oh, right.]}

What was the last thing that occurred before you arrived?

[terminarcher]

An alternate Amestris? How is that possible?

[Then again, how is this world possible? How is it that Kimbley doesn't remember anything that happened? It might be possible.

Ah, right, but there's that question to address.]

I died.

[.........simple as that, really.]

There was an attack on Central Headquarters, a rebellion. The Fuhrer's manor went under attack. I was too late; Mustang had killed him.

[...Admittedly he doesn't know that for sure, but considering that Mustang just kind of waltzed out of the Fuhrer's house...]

[fulmination]

You'll come to learn that Vatheon is capable of things that shouldn't be possible. The laws of death no longer apply here seeing as several people who had died in their own worlds are suddenly alive again. Should they die here in the city, they return within a few days as if nothing had happened to them. It's curious, though it's not something I'd want to try myself.

_{[But Mustang killed another homunculus, huh? What is even. What is wrong with that other world.]}

It seems we both have a habit of getting involved with the Homunculi. Would you happen to know if Mustang was blind? According to him, Wrath and Pride forced him into performing a Human Transmutation.

[terminarcher]

[Death isn't permanent here? Interesting. He'll be sure to keep that in mind! Questions about this world will wait, however, since this other Amestris is far more fascinating.]

No, Mustang wasn't blind. Why would Wrath have anything to do with a human transmutation? Wasn't he the product of one? Our research was interrupted by the Elrics' teacher, but there was something definitely off about him. If nothing else his arms and legs didn't match up correctly.

[...Sorry for the horrible confusion this is going to cause, Kimblee...]

[fulmination]

_{[So much confusion. Just look at him, Archer, his brain is breaking.]}

What on earth does the Fuhrer's arms and legs have to do with this?

[terminarcher]

[lolwhoops. Try to keep your eyes in your skull, Kimblee!]

The Fuhrer? I was talking about Wrath, the child.

[fulmination]

...You mean Pride?

_{[Sense, things are not making it.]}

[terminarcher]

No, Pride is the Fuhrer.

[...............]

...I suppose you might have a point; an alternate version of Amestris would explain the discrepancies here.

[fulmination]

_{[How in the world did his other self put up with you, Archer.]}

You are a difficult one, aren't you? Regardless, I have to admit it's a relief bumping into someone from 'home'. It's been far too quiet here for my liking.

_{[Even with Selim in the apartment there's only so much be can do!]}

[terminarcher]

[He was magical. :| ]

Has it? I imagine there would be plenty to do in a world like this.

[Like exploring! Not that he's really capable of that anymore, um.]

...You said you don't know me? My apologies for not introducing myself, then. I am Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer.

[There's a moment of hesitance, then he finally holds out his human hand to shake.]

[fulmination]

It's troublesome work to avoid angering the population of human chimeras any further though they're more prone to calling themselves 'Lombaxes'. Apparently self-defence is a difficult concept to grasp within their kind considering their actions as of late.

_{[Seriously Lombaxes are so rood.]}

It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

_{[He gets the hesitance, really! It doesn't deter him any, so enjoy that harmless handshake.]}

[terminarcher]

Human chimeras? [Oh, like the ones he ordered killed! The ones Tucker couldn't create because he's useless! Gotcha.] Dare I ask what you've been up to? I do hope you haven't been making too much of a mess of things.

[C'mon, you totally like blowing random shit up too, right?]

[fulmination]

The damages are hardly noticeable. The lower district was a bit of a mess yesterday but the locals have a knack for fixing things up.

_{[Who doesn't? Just wait until you meet his friends, Archer!]}

[terminarcher]

And they don't question anything?

[...you have friends...?]

[fulmination]

Not directly. I assume they wonder who or what could have done it, but they don't usually pry.

<sub>[



sort of.]</sub>

[terminarcher]

That certainly sounds convenient. How long have you been here?

[...... (unsure)]

[fulmination]

About two months as of today if the calendars are accurate.

_{[you jelly archer?]}

[terminarcher]

Indeed? And you aren't concerned about returning home?

[No of course not! Who needs friends anyway? >:| ]

[fulmination]

_{[Totally jealous :>]}

No, not really. I've done all I could back home.

_{[and he'd just be chilling inside of a Homunculus too. IT'S NOT REALLY THAT EXCITING...]}

[terminarcher]

I understand the feeling.

[Though he might be saying that just because he's dead... But surely you aren't! Moving on!]

Have you been enjoying your time here, then?

[fulmination]

Of course. The difference in technology aside, it's actually been fun.

_{[Including the curses! ...Sometimes. But speaking of technology--]}

By the way, may I ask what happened to your body? It's the first time I've actually met someone who had it replaced with automail like that.

[terminarcher]

[It is good to hear that you're having fun, even if you aren't the Kimbley Archer knows. But that question...

He wants to say that it's none of Kimblee's business. He wants to get offended and switch the topic. But somehow or other, Archer finds himself talking about it anyway.]

I was in charge of a mission in Liore; Kimbley - the version I know, of course - was sent in to provoke a riot. He ended up killed by Scar and somehow or other, Scar set off an array to create a Philosopher's Stone. I was caught up in it and lost half my body. I had it replaced with automail so I could continue serving the military.

[It's the first time he's really realized how little control he has over what he's saying. Archer looks mildly traumatized by that revelation - but considering what he's talking about, the expression can't be all that surprising.]

OH HI, HOW COULD I MISS THIS

[warrior_king]

[This particular brand of repulsive body horror just falls into the background for Gorthan, a space warlord whose second- and third-in-command wear bionic implants on their faces like it's the newest fashion trend. Come to think of it, on Evron, it probably is.

However, Gorthan also knows that that sort of thing doesn't tend to get along especially well with water. He unceremoniously grabs the nearest clean towel - without considering who it might have belonged to - and holds it up.]

I will give you those answers, and more, if you relax. Besides, I am quite sure you may need this right now.

I THOUGHT I'D BE SEEING YOU c:

[terminarcher]

[Archer tenses, human eye narrowing at the new arrival. It's very obvious that he's sizing up Gorthan and trying to fathom whether or not he'll be a threat - but Archer eventually snatches that towel with his human hand. The gesture is a bit clumsier than it really should be - he's always been better with his left hand, which is now unfortunately weirdly positioned thanks to the automail.]

Thank you. [He can at least offer the uh... man that much. He doesn't waste any time in starting with the towel, drying off the line of automail and flesh first before moving on to the automail itself.]

What can you tell me about this place, then?

[Might as well talk while he works.]

[warrior_king]

[Gorthan looks briefly interested in the way that this earthling's machine half seems to work. Given the priority that the newcomer seems to give to that part as he dries himself, is it safe to assume that the bonds between organic and non-organic are the most delicate and vital section of the system? ... All this, before Gorthan realizes he's being asked a question, at which he recomposes himself. His voice is loud, his tone official and detached.]

It is a prison for people from a variety of worlds, much like R'ur Kil, the prison planet I own. Even so, the life conditions we are allowed here are ones of extreme comfort, to the point that some come to see their stay here as a period of rest from the turmoil shaking their worlds of origin.