Chapter 40 The Cold That Still Breathes
Kimblee looked at Selim Bradley one last time, his hands still stained with the dust and ash that had clung to his uniform. The air of Central City remained heavy, as if the city itself had held its breath during the explosion and still didn't dare to fully exhale.
"It's all done," he said calmly. "If you'll excuse me, I must return to prison."
Selim smiled—far too perfect a smile for a child his age.
"Father will be pleased," he replied simply.
Before Kimblee could answer, Selim took a step back… and vanished. There was no flash, no sound—only the unsettling sensation that he had never truly been there at all. Kimblee let out a short nasal laugh.
"Kids these days have such strange manners."
A deeper voice interrupted him.
"Kimblee."
He turned. Standing before him was the general who had interrogated him months earlier—the same man who had sifted through memories of Ishval with feigned courtesy and carefully measured questions. He wore his immaculate uniform, as if the city hadn't just lost an entire building.
"I'll take you back," the general said. "And we'll continue the conversation from last time."
Kimblee studied him for a second, then shrugged.
"Sure. I'm feeling cooperative today."
They climbed into the military vehicle. The engine purred softly as they moved through the avenues of Central City, passing white buildings and clean streets that contrasted sharply with the still-fresh memories of burned flesh beneath the ground.
The general drove in silence for several minutes before speaking.
"Do you know anything about Isaac McDougal?"
Kimblee turned his head to look at him, amused.
"Well, straight to the point," he said. "I'm in a good mood today, General. Ask whatever you like. If I know, I'll tell you."
The general kept his eyes on the road.
"What do you know about him?"
Kimblee shifted in his seat, as if preparing to tell a long story.
"McDougal is a visionary," he began. "He joined the military around the same time I did. He was always different. His ice alchemy…" He clicked his tongue. "Impressive. If he had enough time to prepare, he could freeze all of Central City if he wanted to."
He let out a brief laugh.
"Of course, that's theoretical. Isaac was never one to enjoy chaos for its own sake."
The general nodded slowly.
"In Ishval—"
"Ah, Ishval," Kimblee interrupted with a crooked smile. "That's where everything breaks, isn't it?"
The general didn't deny it.
"You know anything about him now," he asked, "or about his motivations? We suspect he could become a problem down the line."
Kimblee leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the vehicle.
"I'll tell you something outright," he said. "In Ishval, when I was wounded, I ran into him."
The general's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"He was serious," Kimblee continued. "Not the same person I'd known years before. No jokes. No idealistic speeches. He was repelling enemy fire with walls of ice. They were attacking the infirmary."
The images seemed to come alive in his mind.
"I was only half-conscious," he went on, "but I saw it clearly. McDougal raised walls of ice as projectiles exploded against them. Then he advanced. And he killed."
The general swallowed.
"Did he enjoy it?" he asked.
Kimblee shook his head.
"No. And that was the most interesting part. It was thrilling to watch, sure," he smiled, "but there was no pleasure in his eyes. Not like in mine. He did it to survive. Pure and simple."
He fell silent for a few seconds before adding:
"He also protected his wounded comrades. Shielded them with his alchemy, isolating them from fire, from heat, from chaos. He kept killing the enemy, yes… but he always looked back, making sure his people were still alive."
The vehicle stopped at a traffic light. The general looked at Kimblee for the first time since the conversation had begun.
"Is that everything you know about McDougal?" he asked.
"That's all I know for certain," Kimblee replied. "The rest is speculation."
The light changed. The car moved again.
"So in your opinion," the general said, "what drives him?"
Kimblee closed his eyes for a moment.
"To survive," he said. "And to carry what he saw. Sometimes that's more dangerous than any ambition."
The general didn't respond right away. The city continued to slide past them, oblivious to a conversation that could decide another alchemist's fate.
Finally, the vehicle stopped in front of the prison.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Kimblee," the general said. "It's been… enlightening."
Kimblee stepped out of the car, adjusting his coat.
"Anytime," he replied. "You know where to find me."
The gates opened to receive him once more. As he walked back toward his cell, Kimblee thought of McDougal—of ice, of Ishval. He smiled faintly.
Some fires are extinguished.
Others are only waiting for the exact moment to burn again.
(End of Chapter)