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mekachu04
Feveruary [2025] by Mekachu04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Summary: He's not sure why it feels like he's still asleep, even long after he's woken up, tiny child body curled up under smelly blankets in a dingy back alley. He wonders where Killer wandered off to this early, his friend's body heat sorely missed in the dreary summer rain of Kutzk. The air is wet and cold and he reaches up to pull the blanket higher, water beading and rolling down the wool as he huddles under it. It keeps trying to slip off his left shoulder, the stub of his arm aching, partially the phantom pain that regularly haunts him, and then something deeper driven by the bleak weather.
Things are not what they seem when Kidd wakes up in the wrong place, the wrong time.
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Chapter 1: “How did you end up like this?”
He's not sure about this dream
He's not sure why it feels like he's still asleep, even long after he's woken up, tiny child body curled up under smelly blankets in a dingy back alley. He wonders where Killer wandered off to this early, his friend's body heat sorely missed in the dreary summer rain of Kutzk. The air is wet and cold and he reaches up to pull the blanket higher, water beading and rolling down the wool as he huddles under it. It keeps trying to slip off his left shoulder, the stub of his arm aching, partially the phantom pain that regularly haunts him, and then something deeper driven by the bleak weather.
With a start, Kidd sat up abruptly, throwing the blanket off his body to stare at his self. The blanket sat heavy in his small lap, thin twiggy legs of his preadolescence body in shorts too big and shoes too small. A sweat stained and mended sleeveless top hung off him, the shoulder strap slipping down just as the blanket did.
His right hand was held out, frail and weak, even with the scars wrapping around his forearm, the same scars across his thigh and gut and chest. He touched his face, the scars there too, running all the way up into his hair line.
The disfigured mess of his left shoulder, the anchors and nerve links gone, but the scars where they once were dark on his skin. The ugly scar tissue from his crew's desperate measures to save his life at the cost of his mid-bicep downward. The dark tattoo on his shoulder that he'd gotten to replace the ring on his hand, lost forever along with the rest of his arm.
He didn't like this dream anymore.
He scrambles to his feet, the marks of the life he was living when he fell asleep super imposed over the body he wore last time he felt so powerless.
Wait...
It's getting harder to breath, his lungs tightening, and his chest burning. He clenches at his chest, pulling at his shirt, coughing, wet salty water falling from his lips. More than should be possible. The water was lost in the murky polluted puddles forming from the still falling rain.
He stares at it far too long, before wiping his mouth once he can breath again, heart still pounding, looking up at the towering oppressive buildings until they vanish into the clouds. He staggers to the street, stone uneven underfoot, feeling dizzy and untethered. Despite the rain, people push past him, and he lets the crowds push him down pathways that feel familiar but he can't recognize. Massive stone and steel buildings scale down to brick and wood, homes and small shops, and Kidd finds himself stuck once more.
Marines shining white even in the rain, the smog and befoulment of the island recoiling away from them as they march in tidy lines. He's angry at the sight of them, the building shuddering around him, their pipes and bones ready to come to his aid to remove the eyesore.
The guns and swords of the Marines shudder, and a few start to hesitate, start looking around for the threat they all can feel lurking, no doubt abetted by the angry dark looks of the locals from doorways and windows.
One of which was glancing at him from the doorway closest, "Hey, kid? You okay?"
He's.. not sure what's happening, but he thinks he's okay, so his nods just a little.
The man gestured for him to come in off the street, looking nervous. Kidd has few any other options, and slips in the dingy house.
The stranger watches the street for a bit longer; Kidd watches too as Marines continue their march down the cobblestone street.
"Why are they here?" Kidd glared at the retreating backs,
"Dunno. Something happened on Baterilla, and now the world government's out for blood, all across the South Blue."
"I heard about that, but I don't remember them coming on the island."
The man gave him a strange look, but then paled. He straighten up, studying Kidd with an intensity that unnerved him.
"What?"
The man raised a hand, then dropped it. "... i didn't.. are you..."
"Spit it out!"
"Was.. where you related to Brichtrede? I didn' know she had an older boy, but..."
The name signified nothing to him, but his heart stumbled over it like it should mean something.
"Was she your auntie then? Oh son, 'm so sorry."
Kidd steps back, dread coiling in his gut
"I guess she had her baby last night - Marine bastards found out. Uilleam refused to let them 'inspect' the boy. Fight broke out...."
Uilleam Uilleam Uilleam Uilleam
Uilleam and Brichtrede. He didn't know those names, but they called to him all the same, reaching out from the shadows of the long forgotten coals of a fire left dying in the hearth next to his crib.
"They burned the the whole tavern down, Eustace's still inside. Nothing even left to scavenge from what I heard."
Kidd bolted out the door, head spinning.
The streets... unfamiliar, suffocating, spinning on its axis. He ran
He ran, pushing people aside, gut twisting and rolling.
His feet carried him there in the end.
Marines still patrolled the area, no one dared venture near the smoldering ashes. Some women were screaming at the soldiers, but no one looked at Kidd.
He didn't know when he started crying; wasn't even sure why he was crying. He didn't know these people. He didn't know this town.
So the man thought he was related. So what? So what that the only name he had left to any of his childhood, guarded and treasured by his partner until he'd been old enough to understand it's importance, a name to strangers he'd never met before, but shared by the mystery murdered couple and their apparently new born son.
Shaken, disturbed, uneasy, Kidd turned to the marine nearest him, eyeing him warily.
"What..." What was his question? What could he possible ask that would have any of this making a lick of sense.
"What's the date, today?"
The marine frowned, looking at his dirty clothes, stubbed arm, shoe in tatters, tied to his feet. "11th of January."
"What year, on a.. on the marine calendar?"
"1501."
