Wayne knew instantly that something was amiss, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't merely the strange man from the videos, or Lust's apparent reluctance to discuss the image with him; it was something else… a vague unease that stirred unpleasantly in his gut. He couldn't neatly pin its origin, but he assumed it had something to do with the mystery connection between Lust and the man. The fact that they had some kind of link- whatever it was- unsettled him. He sighed, breathing in deeply and slowly letting the air escape through his mouth.
He was still in front of the monitors, where he had been since last night, watching as the building burst into flames a million times over. He yawned despite himself; it had been over twenty hour since he had last slept, and stretched in his chair, closing his eyes. The explosion flickered through his eyelids, a soundless lullaby of light that soon faded from his existence as he fell asleep.
He was awoken by the sharp sounds of heels clicking against hard floor. He snapped himself up, spinning around, eyes scanning the area for danger even as his mind automatically reasoned that he would find none, telling himself that high heels were hardly the standard equipment for arsonists and serial killers. He did not relax, however, until Lust's slender shape made its way into his vision. He dropped his arms, and frowned slightly at her, watching her slow grin in return. Her red lips reminded him as they had before, disturbingly, of bloodstained rubies, and her teeth flashed against the glossed sheen of her mouth. Her eyes shone, and he studied them clinically, wondering why his senses pricked uncomfortably as he did so. There was something unfamiliar in those violet depths, he eventually decided, something off.
He chose to ignore it, to simply lump it together with the rest of his disquiet. He looked at her again, and the edges of her grin stretched, before her mouth returned to a purposefully neutral line.
"Why are you here?" he demanded at last, softening the hard edge of his words with a gentle confusion. "If you had wanted to come, you should have let me know in advance."
"I didn't want to worry you," she told him, but her attempt to soothe him seemed flat and artificial. "But I thought you and I should have a frank little chat."
"Oh?" he asked, interest suddenly perking up. He pulled out a second seat for Lust and offered it to her. She sat, smoothing the front of her skirt. He sat down on his chair, and leaned forward. "What is it?"
Lust's gaze darted around quickly, and her tongue flicked out to brush against her lower lip. "This is a bit… embarrassing," she admitted, "but I'll confess I haven't been completely honest with you. Especially yesterday." She frowned. "I am sorry," she apologized, and then continued, "but the subject matter I'm about to discuss is… delicate, I suppose."
"Go on," he urged, a note of impatience creeping into his tone. Internally, however, he heaved a great sigh of relief, glad that Lust had finally decided to be honest with him, his previous misgiving momentarily abandoned.
She did. "The truth is… I do know who the bomber is. This isn't just a guess, or rampant speculation, I know who he-" her finger stabbed towards the image of the man on the screen, before he vanished into the crowd "- is." She paused. "His name is Kimblee, and you were correct in that he is indeed an alchemist from Amestris. However, he is ruthless, and utterly devoid of empathy."
Wayne nodded, what felt like a thousand emotions blinking to life and warring with each other: anger, relief, sadness, fear, appreciation, desire, rage, annoyance… and then he pushed them aside, locking his eyes on Lust's. "Tell me more about him," he said, "is he like Copper?"
"Not quite. Copper may have managed to come through to our world, but in comparison to Kimblee, his power is quite limited, as it primarily requires direct contact and its effects are restricted. The explosion you witnessed is only a small sample of Kimblee's ability." A dark scowl contorted her features. "I have no idea how he came here- I had been assured of his death- but he is, and this promises to get… potentially problematic." She eyed him, and though Wayne could clearly see the recognizable look of calculation in her gaze, her assessment was not as coldly amused as he had come to expect. Rather, this new expression seemed much more… gleeful, and it lacked the clinical measurement of Lust.
Wayne nodded slowly, and rose from the seat. Looking at the creature on the seat, he said carefully, "I'm grateful you came here. But I wonder why Lust couldn't have come herself, Envy."
The shapeshifter didn't so much as twitch. Keeping Lust's form, it pushed itself up from the chair, and faced Wayne, a wide smile painted to its features. "She's busy."
Lust had been waiting over two and a half hours, until he finally arrived. She noted his presence, but did not look at him, merely continued to stare at the husk of a building Kimblee had blown up. It was nearly gone, just a small little blackened ruin sitting amid rubble and ash that blew around the limp yellow police tape draped around its perimeter.
He was beside her now, pretending to admire the view as well. "Lovely work, isn't it?" he asked her cordially.
"I've seen better," she dismissed, and turned to him, taking in every inch of his body with a type of delayed shock. He was really here, in this world that was her new home, he who was supposed to be nothing but a fragment of Pride's collective of souls. He smiled.
She did not ask him how he survived. It was not because she did not care (quite the contrary, in fact), it was simply not relevant. There were far more pressing matters to attend to, and she voiced her prime concern. "What are your goals here, Kimblee?" she asked him, watching as his expression remained unreadable, "What do you want?"
He took a second before he said anything. "I haven't decided," he told her after a short hesitation. "I did get your attention, though. How did you know to meet me here?"
She scoffed. "You weren't exactly subtle."
His smile was light. "Fair enough."
There was another silence, and then Lust said, rephrasing what she had already asked, "What are you going to do?"
"Right now or later?" he grinned, and went on, "Lust, does it really matter?"
"Humor me."
"Very well. I think I'll have my fun with this place. This… Gotham. It's been so terribly fraught with perils, but its residents really haven't seen anything yet." His eyes were fixed on the building, and a small smile played on his lips. His words were unemotional and nonchalant as he continued, "I'll paint this town in red and give them fireworks every night until their screams and the sound of my explosions line up in a perfect pitch." Finally, he turned back to Lust. "Perhaps you will enjoy it as well."
"It is a tempting thought," she conceded, "I do so relish the cries of doomed, and the spilling of innocent blood. I might almost entertain the notion of joining in."
"Almost." It was a statement, not a question.
"Almost," she agreed, and then gave him a smile of her own. "But perhaps I've weakened. I can't allow you to destroy this town, Kimblee."
"And why is that?"
"My reasons are my own."
"We seem to be at an impasse, then."
"It seems so." Her fingernails lengthened slightly, in preparation for what was to come. He didn't move, and she quickly flicked her spears outwards towards him, spiraling them towards the ground, and then up as he ducked and wove his way around them. Frustrated, she retracted them, and then realigned them. The second before she sent them flying towards Kimblee a second time, the ground between them erupted in a tremendous bang, and bits of the streets flew outwards. She jumped back, covering her face with her arms, the smoke making her vision murky and dark.
"See you soon." The words were whispered on the breeze, and she blinked rapidly, clearing her eyes. But, by the time her vision had returned to normal, he was gone, with nothing but the lingering smoke and the ruined street for company.