"You got me out?" Kimbley snorted with laughter even as his head rang with the sudden contact with the wall. "You're giving yourself too much credit. I got myself out of that hellhole. I blew the floor apart and walked away from your friends' little experiment. I could have gotten out of that prison on my own. You just sent your little pets to get those soldiers out of my way."

Normally, Kimbley wouldn't have seen any reason to validate himself, especially not to Greed. But hell, he was dead. Greed was dead. And they were both here, with suppressed abilities, neck-and-neck and looking for revenge. (Greed was, anyway.) Why shouldn't he tell the homunculus exactly what the truth was? The truth was usually more interesting than a lie, and got better reactions, anyway.

"If you look at it that way," he hissed, fingers curling into his palms, "then I don't owe you anything."