Lost in the desert
Chapter one, I'm not crazy
He wasn't crazy. At least not they way they thought he was. Zolf J. Kimbley was just as sane as any other state alchemist. He knew exactly what he was doing, he just didn't care.
Well, maybe it wasn't accurate to say that he didn't care, he did care, he cared about the adrenaline that soared through his veins whenever he transmuted a person into a bomb. It was the greatest high imaginable, pure, raw, undiluted power. It drew him in, it didn't mean jack shit to him that he was blowing people up, killing them in the most painful way imaginable, that didn't matter to him. The power did, he was drawn to it. So he was an addict. But that didn't make him crazy.
It was like that with a lot of the alchemist. Kimbley blamed it on the red stones, they enhanced the alchemist power. He hated the little red trinkets as much as he loved them, needed them. Lately though, they had made him need other things. He wasn't gay, bi maybe, but not gay. That didn't help Roy though.
