The men had come two hours later, but Kid hadn't been awake to see them. Vergo had apparently decided he'd be easier to move while unconscious, which was a smart move, because he'd have fought tooth and nail otherwise.
This way, he hadn't even seen the fist coming before it was lights out.
The good news was that he'd had his first decent sleep since he'd set foot in the prison.
The bad news was that he had a nightmare, one he really, really wanted to wake up from.
The worst news, the news he got when he slammed his head back against the steel operating table and still didn't wake up, was that the nightmare was real.
Kid hated being trapped. He hated the helplessness that came with the coldness of cuffs against his wrists and ankles, the strain of leather bands against his waist and forehead. He hated being spread out, on display, weakness exposed for all to see.
And he hated the bastard at his feet, pair of scissors in hand, snipping away at his pants. He stared the man down, willing him to look up and see his death in Kid's eyes.
The scissors caught and slid, and Kid felt cold air against his thigh. The man held up a piece of bloody, ruined fabric, clicking his tongue. "These are useless. I'll have to find you more."
He tossed it behind him, carelessly, then went back to work with the scissors. Kid kept up the glare, recognizing the voice as the newcomer in his cell, but the man didn't look at him once. Did he even know Kid was awake? Had he been talking to himself? He'd heard the rumors about the crazies Doflamingo kept company with, and he'd seen enough of Vergo to know the man was one of them. Was this just another psycho?
Kid saw the last of his protection go flying past the man's shoulder, and held back a shiver. Now there was nothing to protect him from the dark gaze that swept up his body and rested on his face.
His eyes…there was something wrong with his eyes. No one had eyes that color, a burnished gold that lit up almost devilishly when the man smiled. "Ah, you're awake."
Kid opened his mouth. No shit, freak, he tried to say, but all that came out was a dry cough.
A bottle appeared in front of him, tilted so that a thin stream of water dribbled down on his lips. He clamped them shut, innate distrust leaving him wary.
A thumb pressed down on the side of his mouth, gentle but firm. "You need this. You might not know it, but you're more dead than alive right now. Honestly, I'd much rather have you alive."
Kid didn't give a fuck what the man would rather have, but the thumb had started to massage his lips, loosening the muscles. Kid knew he'd have to open eventually, and fuck, he was just so weak right now. He could feel the hunger sucking strength out of him, every cut and bruise aching.
He felt his head being tilted up, metal beneath him rising on some sort of hinge. The bottle was pressed against his lips, and he could hear the unspoken offer.
I could force you to drink this, but if you open up, you get to keep your pride.
Kid liked his pride.
The bottle's opening pushed past his lips, plastic edges scraping the chapped skin. The first mouthful of water hit the back of his throat and it was like paradise. He swallowed greedily, drinking the bottle down. As soon as the first was empty, the second was pushed to his lips. After that came a third, and a fourth, until at the fifth he couldn't take anymore, mouth firmly shut as nausea coiled in his belly.
His head was still raised, and as the bottle left his view he could see his naked self spread in front of him. Pale skin dotted with burn marks, shriveled and red where he'd been hit with a cattle prod. The bruises were everywhere, mottling his skin so he seemed more purple than white.
He frowned. Was the white tape around his thigh a bandage?
"Enjoying the view?" The man's voice came from his right, just out of his line of vision. Kid wanted to turn, to get a good look at his new captor, but the bands kept him pinned tight. "Vergo left me with quite the patch-up job. Rude of him, really, but I suppose he wasn't expecting you to live long enough for it to matter."
"Too bad," Kid croaked through the thick film in his throat.
The man made a vague sound of agreement. Kid felt a hand in his hair, fingers toying with the roots. "Such a nice color," his captor murmured, almost to himself. He began to comb through it, nails catching on tangles and sending little sparks of pain down Kid's spine. "I'll have to wash it for you. You aren't healthy enough for a bath yet, but I can't wait to see what this looks like clean."
A loose strand fell on Kid's face, and he blew it back. What did this guy think Kid was, some kind of pet? Kid could wash his own damn self, and Gold Eyes here could get fucked.
He shifted in his bonds, testing their strength. He knew he couldn't do shit about the cuffs, but the leather straps were a different deal. If they were nailed in, he could push them hard enough against the screws that they'd tear. And if he played his cards right, he could wait until the guy got close and catch his neck between his teeth. It'd be ugly, and he'd probably be killed for it, but they were going to kill him anyway and he'd rather take one of theirs down with him.
He'd need to be stronger, though. A lot stronger. And as his stomach reminded him, he didn't stand a chance without food.
So he'd play this freak's game. "Gonna feed me or what?"
The fingers in his hair pulled away, leaving his scalp tingling. "It's best to let the water settle first. You aren't ready for solid meals yet; you'd better get used to broth for a while."
Whatever. He'd take what he could get. "Fine, gimme that."
A hand gripped his chin. "Funny how you think you can make demands here." Fingertips stroked his face, caressing the skin. "You're going to learn very soon that everything here has a price, and the price of control is the highest of all."
Kid would have been a little more annoyed about being treated like a child if he hadn't been distracted by the black ink on the man's hands. There was some kind of pattern on the backs, and the symbols on the fingers could almost be letters.
D…E A…T…H, he read.
Yeah, this guy was batshit crazy.
The hands slid away. There was a grunt of effort, the sense of movement by Kid's side, and then weight settled heavy on his thighs. The man had pulled himself up on the table, straddling Kid with his legs swinging free on either side. Without the half-awake haze of earlier, Kid could finally focus on what his captor looked like.
He was surprisingly young; hair raven-black and styled rough, haphazardly sticking up in random places. An angular face with a well-groomed goatee, twin gold rings dangling from each ear. He couldn't have been much older than Kid, with cheeks smooth and unwrinkled even with the wide grin he wore. Those damned gold eyes peered out at him, picking him apart and judging him piece by piece.
They must have liked what they saw. The grin widened, and the man leaned forward. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun together, Eustass."