Death was no surprise. The surprise had been what came afterwards, although the outcome was to be expected. Solf J. Kimblee was not by any means a moral man in the human definition of the word, so he had reasoned should there be a divine entity it would have a few choice words for a convicted war criminal. But instead he had been deemed worthy of “redemption” should he undertake that path. Interesting.
Of course, it wasn’t as if Kimblee had any interest in that.
Right now, the military man was humming to himself a dainty little tune, strolling along through what he’d been told was the Circle of Gluttony. Around him were various restaurants and shops advertising their fresh meat and delicious produce, but only if you didn’t look to closely. It was a… fascinating thing, to observe these people. Would they tear apart and eat each other, in their impotent rage? Would they lick up the scraps and crumbs on the-yes, yes they would it seemed. Wrestle over a crust of bread, even, and there was something utterly fascinating even about this most crude of struggles.
No, there was no room in that place called Heaven for the alchemist, not unless he fit into their godly cookie cutter mode. If one became a hero … but what was a hero? What was a villain? What was divine or damned? None of that mattered. All that mattered was who was strong and who was weak. Speaking of strong and weak…
“You don’t seem to be…” A slight gesture towards the now growing crowd fighting over the bread. “Of that sort.”
She heard what he said and gave him a quick glance, laced with a little hostile squint.
“Don’t seem to be of that sort?”
She grabbed the bread with her mouth, and relying purely on her normal physique, which was hardly enhanced, but of the klaxosaurs’ nature, she jumped and escaped from the crowd.
“What are you talking about?”
Muffled, but she at least made her gaze clear on him.
Something about him made her shudder, if only just a little bit. She attempted to hide the fear, however.
“Did you want this piece of bread too? Did you simply give up from reaching for it because it was just a little difficult to get?”
"I am talking, young miss, about the gluttonous.” Once again, Kimblee looked over towards the crowd. There was now a rabid fight breaking out, and looking at their eyes and frenzied hands you could see the desperation and anger. “We are, after all, here because of our personal failings and professional deeds. In the eyes of some calculating body we have committed wrongdoings, and with regards to these individuals they gave in to baser instincts. To hunger.”
Looking over to the stranger, Kimblee had a little gleam in his eye as she asked about the bread. “Not at all. If I so wished to it would probably be a simple task. Let us say... hypothetically speaking, I did want this bread.” The white-suited man took a quick glimpse of his surroundings. “I would then have to deal with this crowd, whose goal is some kind of sustenance, yes? Then it is very simple.”
“Introduce to them a new source of food, and take advantage of their ravenous hunger.”
The signs were all there, after all. Suddenly the bread was becoming an afterthought, as it was dawning on the crowd that there was no point in such a small morsel when their opponents could easily become their next meals . Man turning on man, frantically biting and clawing, ripping fleshy chunks out of each other. “Those who hunger will never truly satisfy their cravings, after all.” Realising he had droned on a far too long Kimblee looked towards the pink-haired stranger and bowed in apology.
“But my apologies! I did not even properly introduce myself. I am known as Solf J. Kimblee.”
