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- an: series,
- chara: kidd pirate captain: eustass kidd,
- chara: kidd pirate commander: killer,
- chara: kutzk: victoria shirton doryanika,
- chara: pirate captain: trafalgar law,
- chara: w.gov: donquixote rosinante,
- ip: one piece,
- platform: a03,
- tag: children,
- verse: southbound hearts,
- warning: noncon,
- warning: slurs
Southbound Hearts | Chapter 7: a boy named Killer
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Sex
Additional Tags:
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Summary:
Its a light rain, warm fresh water splashing his face, the edge of a tropic storm building on the horizon. It picks at his memory, like a forgotten dream, a lullaby from the few calm points of his childhood; a point of peace where he knew he was going to die, but that was okay. He's thirteen again, and his world is ending, but it's okay, because he wasn't alone anymore.
Corazon is standing at the front of their tiny ship, staring out at the storm with a look of worry. He was just as Law remembered him, large and imposing as equal as soft and kind.
It was a nice dream to die in, Law supposed.
The town was far larger than Law realized, once he had a change to truly look it over. Towering metal buildings spiraling up, backed tightly together to support each other in a claustrophobic jumble. He'd been to large cities before, but none had the people packed so tightly together.
He was eyed suspiciously by a few shop attendees, pulling his hat down to cover his face more, trying to hid his hands in his sleeves. He passed a bakery where the man in charge stood ominously in front of his wares when Law wandered past -the loaves small and pretty like the ones Killer had offered him this morning. Law had a feeling Killer may not had paid for all the breakfast he'd procured for them this morning, judging by the was he was watched as he went.
Red and white stripes finally caught his attention, and as Law approached, Kidd's suggestion finally made sense - the red, blood stained bandages wrapped around a pole to dry. Medical History wasn't really Law's forte- but he did vaguely recall that in some places, barbers were the ones with the sharpest blades, and in those places, surgeries fell under their hands instead of physicians.
A man was getting a close shave for the barber; the shop was well lit, and so clean it sparkled. The man in charge had a small line waiting along the wall - two men with beards and then a third man this heavy bandages around a stump of a leg. The bandages where clean and the man didn't look in pain -Law would hazard he was there for a check up. Despite his initial hang ups, a quick glace confirmed that this place would work. Law could easily break in later that night and work on himself.
He picked his way back the way he'd came, trying not to get to turned around in the confusing unmarked streets and swarms of moving people. Thankfully, with everyone pressed to close together, most people seemed content to keep their hands - and eyes - to themselves, and no one gave Law and his piebald skin a second glance, despite his well earned paranoia.
He was pretty sure he was heading the correct direction when the crowds started to peter out, the shops disappearing from the street levels to give way to windowless walls of warehouses and dark boarded up shells of abandoned hollowed out complexes. He continued to track the sun's position to make sure he was at least heading in the right general direction, just waiting for the buildings to give way to the junk heaps that made up their shorelines.
There was a gang of young men down one alley that Law had to quickly stumble backwards from to avoid being seen in his wandering. The quick glimpse he'd seen had at least two standing watch, four or five tormenting someone deeper in the alley. Law was going to have to back track to try and get around, or to shambles himself on the other side. There was plenty of things across the way that he could substitute himself with, and he probably had one jump at least in him.
"Ya know, you little faggot, when you got away this morning, I really didn't think you'd be so monumentally stupid to try and come back and pull that same shit in my turf a second time in one day."
The ugly word had Law frozen before he'd formed a 'room.' The sound of cracking bones kept him in place, followed by someone's choked whimper of pain.
The voice had paused; when it returned it sounded so smug and gleeful it set Law's teeth on edge, "We wouldn't have to keep playing these games if you'd just pay us your duty tax when you do business in my city. I don't understand why you fight me every time."
"Not your city an' 'm not one of your lackeys" came a mumbled response, "you dun own me."
And Law dropped his head back against the wall he was hiding behind. Killer. Damn it.
"I own you, I own that shit kid you're hiding in the junk pile. I own the bitch you keep sniffing around. Athair's a weak excuse of a boss and he's not gonna be around much longer for you to hide behind." There's a scuffle, grunts and curses, and the sound of someone being hit again. "The quicker you accept that, the less it'll hurt next time."
If he didn't have one foot in death's door, wasn't in the body of a sickly 13 year old and with no weapons on hand, 7 wanna-be gangsters wouldn't have stood a chance against him. Still might not, Law was much smarter know than he'd been at 13. But he also didn't know Killer's situation, if he'd be putting the teen in more danger. He needed a plan before he went storming in.
Thankfully, it sounded like the group had had their fun, and Law ducked down and huddled in the trash when the group started past him.
"Oi, I'm not done; fucker stole from my old man." One of them called when the group hovered next to Law's hiding spot.
The apparent leader sighed, and Law could see him now, standing at the mouth of the alley; older teen with an air of superiority that didn't match the patchwork cloths and holey shoes. "Catch up later then, I'm tired of looking at sgudal."
Four of them stalked past Law, the sounds of a struggle picking back up in the alley.
Three on one was better odds. Once he was sure the other four weren't coming back, Law threw himself up to help -
Apparently, Killer also thought three on one was better odds too.
He'd donkey kicked one of them in the groin when they'd gone to pull his jeans down; They'd partially succeeded, the course fabric caught around his thighs. That didn't stop Killer from wrapping the straps of his bag around the neck of the second, and he was one-handedly pulling back the bag for dear life as the last man tried to get him in a head lock, knife aiming for the throat.
Killer was quicker, biting the man's wrist with a spray of blood until nerveless fingers dropped the knife into his own free hand. Then he was stabbing - quick upward strikes, the blade cutting up up up under then man's ribs.
Law watched in stunned awe at the quick brutality of it, before Killer was stabbing the trapped man still tangled his bag, the same quick lethal monitions.
The two bodies slumped to the ground in a pool of red. Killer was painted with it too, hands dropping loosely to his side, the blade just an extension of his arm by then. He took a few steadying breaths, and pulled his jeans up, fixed the buttons back in place. Tried to fix his shirt; just making the blood splatter worse in the end. Then he turned to the last man.
The doctor in Law wanted to tell Killer to stop now. The pirate in Law watched as Killer stood over then last man, still kneeling and gasping on the ground.
He was pleading. The man had been ready to rape a kid, and now he's pleading for mercy. Killer squatted in front of him, eye level.
The man hushed suddenly as Killer raised the knife, causally pointed the wet blade at his face. "It was a loaf of fucking bread jackass. Your old man would have gotten over it. I paid him everything I had, and nicked one loaf."
The man watched the blade. Law watched the blade. Killer watched the blade, as he pressed it against the underside of the man's jaw, forcing his head up.
"And now I'm gonna kill his son, because of a fucking loaf of bread. You're a shit son, to put him through that."
"No no no no," the man started to beg. But then he moved to sit up - or maybe try and disarm Killer, no one will ever know, because Killer surged forward, blade shoved into his head from under his chin.
"Probably still feels better than what you were gonna do to me." Killer sighed, holding him close; the lights already gone from the man's eyes, body twitching uselessly in Killer's embrace.
Killer pulled the knife free, staggering up unsteadily. He stumbled to the second body, moving stiffly before sinking to his knees, adrenaline failing him. He didnt let go of the knife, and his hands shook as he tried to untangle his bag from his assailant, the spilled contents scattered around him. It was torn to the point that it was little more that rags, unable to function as a bag anymore.
He hated to approach Killer like this - but regardless of the body he was in, Law was the adult right now, almost twice his age. And he needed to act it. "Want some help?"
