Title: Aberrant
Author: Kristen Sharpe
Date: September 2, 2014
Rating: PG
Warnings: Implied violence, Kimblee being Kimblee
Genre/Continuity: Any
Disclaimer: “Fullmetal Alchemist” belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, Square ENIX, Studio BONES and various other parties.

Author's Note: This was originally part of a sci-fi AU Sage SK and I worked on that never quite got off the ground. But, I think it should stand on its own well enough if you imagine a world where Kimblee is empathic... and still Kimblee. This is a companion to Sage SK's "Breakdown".

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            Stepping over a cooling corpse, he followed the unmistakable sense of fear to the huddled body that was only pretending to be dead.  Slowly.  One precise step and then another. 

            Fear had to be savored.  Especially now that the war had worn his prey down to bitter embers of rage and despair.

            Oh, how he missed those early days.  Rage and terror pulsing to the melody of destruction as he cut a beautiful, crimson path through the streets.  Hot, wild emotion like he never felt among the military’s sterile puppets.

            The fear quieted.  Oh.  His quarry was summoning the fury for a final stand?

            He altered his steps slightly as though seeking another target, as though he couldn’t feel the living prey feet away.

            Now, the other alchemists…  They radiated potential.  Alchemy couldn’t be performed by mind-numbed dolls.  It required a certain intelligence and freedom of thought.  And, that led to bursts of emotion - fear, anger, excitement - escaping the inexorable grip of pre-programmed obedience.  If one of them ever slipped the leash… 

            A sense of desperate rage began to build over the earlier fear.  He made a show of looking away.

            Of course, the most promising alchemist, the brass’ precious Flame, had broken.  His sharp mind with its delicious undercurrents of pent emotion had been reduced to nothing but an endless wail of loneliness and betrayal.  Radiating why, why, why so loudly he had almost killed the man before they finally took him away.

            A scream, and it was finally time.  He half-turned and showed the Ishvalan the manner of his death just long enough to feel the last rush of absolute terror.  Then, the building was falling down around them.

            He walked out of the dusty rubble with a slight skip in his step.

            Perhaps if he gave the other alchemists time.  Flame had crumbled, but what would the next one do?  Perhaps it would be rage next.  Then, the military would be obligated to put their mad dog down. And, they would need someone sufficiently skilled to do it. 

            He smiled.  He hoped it happened soon.  He was running out of Ishvalans.