Anime: FullMetal Alchemist
Description: Zolf J Kimbley composes a note to the jurors that were at his trial. It is mostly him musing on his past deeds.
Character: Zolf J Kimbley
Disclaimer: I wish I owned FMA. Then I'd not only be rich, but have tons of adoring fans.
My name is Zolf J Kimbley. I am thirty-nine years of age and currently imprisoned in Central Prison Block A, cell A26. I have been tried and found guilty of treason against the state, specifically the slaying of a superior officer via explosion by alchemy. I am, without a doubt, guilty of these crimes. I killed that man in hopes that the war would continue.
I do not know why, but the piles of dead Ishbalans, the rivers of dark crimson blood and the cries of the orphaned children stir in me such a desire before of which, I had never felt. My man, woman or child could excite me the way smoldering flesh mixing with sulfur did.
I admit, what I did in the war was strictly following orders. I had to exterminate any and all Ishbalans, be those men, women or children. I did it with a feel of great nationalism. The great sense of pride that only comes with serving your country. It must be close to what the Ishbalans feel with their impudent God.
In al seriousness, why do those crimson-eyed weaklings believe in such a theory? There is no God. Science and alchemy are the closest things we'll ever get to God. Science alone creates humans; just the proper mixture of chemicals is used to create such a simple being, and yet we're seen as superior. Yet, they make such a lovely sound when chemically taken apart and detonated.
I will admit, I love making things explode. It doesn't matter if it's humans, animals or buildings. We're all the same when it comes to chemical composition. Maybe that's why humans mean nothing to be. Perhaps that's why when they look at me with eyes, so desperate and full of a pleading yearning; do not alter my decision to eliminate them utterly and completely.
Ladies and gentlemen of the world, does this make me truly a sick being? I am no sicker than the people who have sex exclusively for pleasure or those enjoy their job. Is it a crime to enjoy your job with such a burning passion that you hope it to never end?
To kill, that isn't a job so much as a hobby. As I state previously, the feel of death at one's fingertips electrifies me with a mad zeal only those religious Ishbalans would understand completely. They have their God, I have my alchemy!
Do not, oh gentle jury, turn your heads from death for it is everywhere lurking, waiting for the chance to strike. Everyday, we walk hand in hand with the quiet shadow that is our untimely demise. We repeatedly place ourselves in dangerous situations to get a thrill from the adrenaline that comes with such a feat. A simple thrill that leaves as soon as the daring act of courage is over.
Is war really any different? Young men and women join the military to not only serve our great country but to get that thrill. That thrill has been the drive to many suicides and homicides. People try to get that thrill with more and more audacious acts of false courage, finding it increasingly more difficult to get that thrill from a repeated performance.
Humans, under the circumstance of war, will kill without question. They will slaughter their fellow man with a sense of depravity not seen even in animals. Before they leave, however, they will not give off the slightest hint of having the most primal instinct. Then it is turned into a game, more or less, of survival. Kill them before they kill you.
This world is not governed by the "live and let live" philosophy any longer. "Dog eat dog", would be the most appropriate phrase for our current state of living. Life may appear calm and free of death and pain in the large cities, but once you are thrown into a place like Ishbal, you see it everywhere. I can assure you, gentle jurors, that war will change a person forever because of the above principle.
War is an eye-opening experience. I can say again, without fear of contradiction, that war will turn the gentlest man into a savage beast, the social butterfly into the pariah of humanity. War is not for the weak or sane, since it requires a bit of insanity (according to the psychologists I've been sent to) to kill a person without mercy.
I'll admit openly and without fear, that I enjoyed the daily slaying of entire cities. Within hours, I had the landscape reduced to nothing. Any and all buildings that had once decorated the skyline of the metropolis were all rubble thanks to my skillful alchemy.
Call me sick, if you must. Call me a psychopath, but do not call me a traitor. If anyone is a traitor, ladies and gentlemen, it would be the people of the village of my birth. Therein lays the most un-nationalistic people I have ever seen in my thirty-nine years of living.
But alas, this is not about them. This is about my crimes against the state. I do not see why I am even here, locked up for doing the country a favor. General Pelz was a weak man to want the war to end prematurely. If you notice, there are still Ishbalans roaming around like stray dogs, sapping this country of its resources. They are nothing but leeches who pillage the tax-payers of their money. They stay in refugee camps that the state pays for. I see no justice for our fallen soldiers that died for the cause.
Please, ladies and gentleman, tell me what the point of losing hundreds of men and women if we just backed down? We are seen as a weak country because humans have in their head that genocide is wrong. You are incorrect. When leeches and parasites feed off the health of our great Amestris, then they should be destroyed.
Yes, I suppose I am racist, but do you blame me? All during the military campaign in Ishbal focused on how horrible the Ishbalans are. Perhaps I have been brainwashed, but I fail to see what they do for society. If you can, so kindly, explain to me how they improve our world then I will gladly back off.
That, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is my reasons for doing exactly what I did. I have no regrets for killing that General nor will I cease to do it again if I'm given the chance. Perhaps I have am a psychopath, perhaps I really am mentally unstable or perhaps, I get my pleasure in a socially unacceptable way for most humans. Is it really my fault for being unique?