tampered | Log; Complete;

Log; Complete;

When; Today, directly after this.
Rating; PG-13 for violence and unwanted attentions
Characters; Riza Hawkeye [

guardianed] & Zolf J. Kimblee [

crimsonhanded]
Summary; Riza is forcibly removed from Roy and Lust's fight.
Log;

She hadn't been watching behind her.

The tactical error was the first thing that had popped into her head as soon as she felt her wrist grabbed, her mouth covered.

He had her gun arm.

...As long as he kept his hand clamped over her mouth, she had an extra hand free. Not conveniently, as the top of her shoulder was pinioned by his second hand. She'd have to go for the gun at her back rather than the ones under her jacket. Twisting her arm back behind her, she grabbed the butt of the gun waiting there.

He'd prevented her from alerting the Colonel to their second adversary.

She hadn't seen his face, but a sick sense of recognition of the hands- and the knowledge of who they'd intended to face, Riza had a pretty good idea of who had dragged her from the Colonel's side.

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With his grip still tight on the lieutenant, Kimblee shouldered a door open, and they descended into the Underground. They were far from the actual entertainment center, with its clubs and whorehouses. These were the slums, the abandoned houses with their boarded windows and graffiti.

Now well away from the battle, the alchemist removed his hand from Riza's mouth, dropping it instead to the gun at her back. He could feel her hand there on its grip.

Smirking, though she wouldn't be able to tell in the dark, even if they were facing each other, Kimblee leaned in to hiss in Riza's ear.

"Come on, love, let's play."

Hawkeye had the presence of mind to keep track of the turns they made, rough distances of how far they had travelled. But that would only be useful to her when she got out of the grasp of her attacker.

She focussed on the feel of the gun's solidity under her hand, ready to draw it and use it as whatever kind of weapon she could, as her other hand was still gripped tightly.

Mouth released, Riza resisted the urge to spit. She knew he wouldn't just release her.

The voice hissing so close to her ear, the petname, the sick sense of humor, it all proved Hawkeye's guess right. "Kimblee." It came out as a growl and as clipped as she could make it.

As soon as she spoke, feeling the hand on her hand holding her gun, she reacted, pulling the gun out of the sheath and slamming the top of it directly into what she hoped was Kimblee, immediately next to her body.

He had to admit, she'd gotten faster. He snarled in pain and took a step back; his grip on her loosened, just for a split second, before he wrenched the gun from her hand. He let go of her wrist to complete the alchemical circle—a tactical decision he would rather not have made, but there was nothing quite as satisfying as the spark of alchemy as the gun imploded and shattered. Shards tore at Kimblee's clothes.

"Lieutenant," he replied almost cheerily, stepping back again, bending forward slightly in a bow of mock respect.

She still had three guns in her possession. Those had to be disposed of, and quickly.

Damn.

He'd just exploded her gun. Hawkeye barely noticed the flecks of metal making small tears through her uniform, disregarded the one that slid past her cheek, grazing the skin of her face.

She needed more space to fight in, and couldn't afford to have him within arms reach of her pistols. If he managed to destroy the rest of her guns, she'd be overwhelmed to the point of ridiculousness. He'd had to let go of her other arm to destroy it, and Hawkeye swung her wrist down and took steps backwards, light on her toes, attempting to get out of arm's reach so she'd be able to fire. Backing up towards where the Colonel had been fighting; the closer she could get back to the other fight, the better, although bringing Kimblee into the fight against the Colonel wasn't ideal either.

His bow was fake, she knew it. Focus on getting back, getting within shooting distance, disable, and escape.

Retreating, was she? That wasn't very nice at all.

Kimblee charged straight at her, clapping his hands together, his grin widening. He ducked under her reach, shoved her to the side with his shoulder and slapped his palms to the ground. The earth cracked and exploded, and the buildings, their foundations broken, tumbled around the two combatants.

The man whirled around, caught a glimpse of blonde through the heavy dust, and lunged, groping blindly. He caught fabric, the thick material of a military uniform, and pushed. The dust settled, and Kimblee, coughing, looked down at the woman in his grip.

Hawkeye had only had time to make sure he didn't collide into her, he'd come lunging so quickly.

Then there'd been a crash, and a huge swirling of rubble, too thick to see through, and disorienting. And then a jerk, and she'd hung still.

For a second all she could do was hang, thankful she hadn't been crushed by falling debris. But that was quickly overwhelmed by disappointment and disgust. She'd not made it into the corridor. And she was being held aloft by Kimblee.

Not good.

Riza contemplated dropping her gun and seeing if she could slide out of her uniform jacket to land on the ground again, divesting herself of one more thing that he could hang onto, but that would let him have another gun. She brought her left arm up and around his arm bringing it back down on the other side, attempting to push his hand away from her jacket, or, at the very least, loosen it. If this failed, she could always drop.

Despite the years in prison, despite his skill deteriorating slowly, Kimblee had still been a soldier, one who relied on brute strength at times to lay his hands on the target. He'd been practicing, too, ever since he'd arrived in the City. All it took was one hand to shove Riza against a wall still standing.

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" he asked, the words falling off his tongue too easily. "I was expecting a better match-up than this."

He adjusted his grip on her uniform: instead of fisting the material, he pressed his palm against her chest just below her neck. His free hand twitched. "But I've caught you so quickly. Can't fight without someone watching your back?"

Kimblee smiled. "This is why I always hated guns. You can't get up close to your victim. You can't see their face as they die."

Wall met her back in a none too gentle collision. Her feet met the ground, but that benefit was massively outweighed by an enormous positional disadvantage. He was taller than she was, stronger than she was, and he had her pinned by one hand to the wall.

This was why she liked rifles. Shoot from far away, and they don't even know where you shot from.

Kimblee was taunting her.

"I am fighting." She brought one leg up sharply, hoping to catch him off guard as he concentrated on her face.

Kimblee's smile was unwelcome, unkind and wicked. And she had to ignore the hand on her chest, ignore the tattoo on the palm of the other hand. Had to hope her leg had hit him somewhere that hurt and that he'd let go of her chest enough for her to slide downward and out of his grasp.

Had to ignore the threat of death.

Kimblee winced as her kick connected with his shin, and his grin twisted into a grimace. At least, he mused suddenly, she still had tenacity. At least she wasn't like many of the others: sobbing, groveling, begging. Riza was too proud for such disgusting behavior.

The smirk returned. People were better that way, Kimblee decided.

"You're a good girl, Hawkeye," he acknowledged, raising his guard, keeping watch of her limbs from the corner of his eye. "You can pull the trigger when ordered. You're professional, obedient, and skilled. Most of all..."

He leaned in, head tilted to the side, smile widening. "Your eyes don't doubt anymore. Excellent. Beautiful.. A pity you're so attached to colonel-on-a-stick. Or a lance."

She'd only connected with a shin. Pity. She'd been aiming higher. His grip hadn't slackened. Pity again.

He was watching her legs. She wouldn't be able to get away with it again.

"I don't need your compliments, Kimblee." The First Lieutenant was amazed how much his words irked her. Whether it was the fact that he seemed to be insulting her while he complimented her or the fact that she just didn't want to accept anything from Kimblee- she didn't know.

Her arm twitched as she fought the desire to pull another gun on him. The one she had out certainly wasn't doing anything at the moment. The second gun would be more for her own satisfaction than from any tactical advantage she could glean.

"And the Colonel" she spat at him, "can handle himself." She had to be able to handle herself as well. She had no time to worry about how injured the Colonel was, or how that fight was going. She had to get herself out of this one.

Hawkeye swung the gun in her right hand up, hoping his watch on her limbs would be sufficiently loose to allow her to get at least one clear shot at his chest.

He wasn't about to relax, not even in this situation where he was at an advantage. After all, Riza still had three guns, one of them in her hand. At least she was smart; she hadn't drawn another one, or fired a shot. He'd have laid his other hand on her chest in a blink, and she'd be nothing but a blood splatter on the wall.

"You say that every time," he remarked. His tone was almost bored. "'Shut up, Kimblee. I don't need your compliments, Kimblee.' Really, it's getting old. Your colonel, too. 'Colonel can defend himself. Colonel can fight.' But really, how long has it been since he's fought? Especially a homunculus."

There was a blur and a metallic gleam out of the corner of his eye. The alchemist's free hand shot out and wrenched the pistol from Hawkeye's grip, then tossed it over his shoulder. It clattered across the debris.

"Don't try that again," he warned her.

Kimblee's bland voice grated on her ears, and she glared at him. "I don't want your sympathy."

...How long had it been since the Colonel had fought? There was no point in bluffing in a situation like this. "I don't know how long it's been since he's fought. He's not from my version of things." It was a bitter statment; why had the City brought a version she hadn't been beside all the time? It didn't- shouldn't- matter. He was still the Colonel. He still had the same abilities, should be able to use them the same.

So much for getting a clear shot in. Empty handed and pinned against the wall, she could only glare at him, wishing looks could actually kill.

He heard rumbles, like explosions, and his skin crawled. He didn't bother pausing to consider his options, he could think as he ran down towards the area that he had heard the ruckus from, finding himself faced with rubble.

It gave him a little peace to think that perhaps the explosion had been concerete, and not..

The rubble was easily overcome, although bits and pieces slid underfoot he made it over with strong steps and good footing. He'd managed to keep his fitness levels acceptable.

His single eye scoured the huge crater that Kimblee had obviously made, and he looked desperately for some kind of signs of life. He felt like his blood was boiling when he saw the position his Lieutenant was in.

A burst of need seemed to fill him, and he ran across to where he could see the two of them, desperate to see the situation for himself. What wasn't good was the fact that his Lieutenant was pinned to the wall, Kimblee had one hand on her already... If he attacked by flame... He made his way forward to close the distance between them.

"Get away from the Lieutenant."

There was the scrambling of boots, and Kimblee turned his head just slightly to see Mustang standing a distance away. He was torn and bleeding in places: it was obvious that there hadn't been a definite winner in his fight against Lust.

"Why, Colonel, you escaped the lance," the Crimson Alchemist acknowledged with a smile. "How lucky. You too, love," he addressed Riza, "to suddenly be saved by your precious superior."

Slowly, Kimblee eased the pressure on Riza's chest. He pulled his other hand behind his back, digging into his pocket for the small device he'd concocted earlier, and bowed mockingly at Roy.

"As you wish, Colonel. But first..."

Kimblee straightened and turned to Riza, kissing her full on the lips, his hand on her chest falling to her breast, giving it a squeeze before it dropped further to pull the pin from the flash grenade in his hand. He pulled away, let the bomb roll from his fingers onto the ground between them and Roy.

"Till next time."

The darkness was obliterated in a flash of light.

Riza hadn't allowed herself to look towards the approaching footsteps, but when the Colonel's order was issued she glanced sideways, taking in the Colonel's rather ragged appearance in the pause before Kimblee started speaking. As soon as the word "love" escaped his lips, she'd refocused her attentions back on the man keeping her pinned on the wall.

And instantly regretted facing him again, as he kissed her- that bastard how dare he- and then his hand fell further and there was a flash of light that was as bright as Hawkeye's suddenly blazing fury.

It was fortunate for Kimblee that he'd vacated the premises, as she'd pulled the two guns she had left out of their holsters and fired with both almost instantaneously, with an inarticulate scream of rage.

How dare he touch her- in front of the Colonel no less-

Bastard!

Hawkeye blinked as her eyes readjusted to the darkness, and could pick out the form of the Colonel again.

Her face was a mask of fury. "I'm taking out the monsters on the way back, sir."

His eyes were fixed on Kimblee, and he couldn't actually believe that he was planning on letting her go. It was obvious that Lust had planned for the other Alchemist to take Hawkeye from his side before he fought Lust, but had she intended to have both he and his Lieutenant killed?

His breath caught in his throat the minute that he watched Kimblee lean in towards the First Lieutenant, and he felt sick. He hoped it was because of what Kimblee had done, rather than due to the wounds he had sustained leaving him a less blood than he should have had.

He saw nothing but light then, and winced as his reflexed made him cover his eyes, straining his right shoulder as he did so.

Once readjusted to the light, he heard Hawkeye's voice, and nodded as he turned. He just had to get home, and hope that they weren't accosted by Lust on the way.

"Yes." He said simply.

Hawkeye was too angry to take notice of the Colonel's expression. A part of her told her that she only had two guns left, only so many bullets, which meant she probably shouldn't shoot up the monsters they might run into on the way back. But the other part of her didn't care, wanted to shoot something into unrecognizability.

She compromized. Three bullets into the exact vitals of every monster they came across, until they left the Underground, she with bullets to spare.

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