Chapter 3 - Malo periculosam, libertatem quam quietam servitutem
A/N:
The new chapter is here! However, I will once again reiterate that this story will be pushing the boundary of that T rating and will have quite a few dark elements to it.
Warning: This chapter does have a scene in regards to an attempted sexual assault, as well as mentioned or implied past sexual assault of a minor.
I try to be as respectful as possible and I try not to be graphic. However, I can understand if some people are put off by such topics. Please read with caution.
Marco sat perched on the top of his father's great chair, watching the waves as the Moby Dick sliced its way through the seas. The rain from the storms that had come into the area pelted down on him, but he didn't mind all that much. On deck, Izo was leaning against a railing, absently but methodically disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling his firearms. Vista was across the way from him, also silently cleaning and polishing his weapons.
The deck, which usually was bursting with life, was virtually empty. Most of the crew that hadn't stayed to help at Larkspur, were staying below. The reason wasn't really all that hard to figure out. One only had to look below him at the large man sitting just below him.
Edward Newgate was normally a pretty jovial man who didn't let much get to him these days. He'd lived a long time and seen a lot in his lifetime. Why bother getting so worked up over things that would figure themselves out in due time? It took a bit to actually push his buttons.
However…
Once pushed?
Hell had no fury that was greater than his.
Currently, the anger and bloodlust coming off the man were so great that most of his crew couldn't take it without falling out. This left only the commanders such as Marco himself, Izo, and Vista to man the deck. Like them, Newgate was also readying himself for battle, his great blade in hand, every muscle taut, like a hunting leopard, ready to spring on its prey.
News of Marguerite's capture had not been taken well.
Everyone from the Big Mom in her castle, to the lowest marine at the G-4 base, knew that the best way to get on the emperor's bad side–was to mess with his kids. His children were his greatest treasure, and like any pirate worth the name, he didn't take kindly to others' attempts to abscond with that which he considered his.
Haruta's arrival from below broke through the tense atmosphere, the heaviness of the environment nearly slapping him in the face. However, he stood unaffected as he reported from his sources.
"Most of our allies have reported no sightings of the vessels, however, Whitey did report that her crew did see their ships a few days ago. They're currently checking on that now."
Marco spoke up, "I doubt they would still be in her area, but it's still worth keeping a lookout. What about our other associates?"
"We can't get in contact with the Red Hairs, Big Mom and Beast Pirates are unlikely to respond, and while the Revs were busy, they did give us a list of known traffickers and slavers they were aware of in the New World."
Whitebeard spoke for the first time, his voice like a river moving across gravel. "Keep searching then, leave no stone unturned."
The man nodded resolutely before leaving to continue using his vast intelligence abilities to try and find a clue as to where they could find the bastards that had invaded their territory, terrorized their people, and stolen away one of theirs.
Marco's phoenix was restless and wanted to take to searching from the skies, but he calmed her down. No point in expending energy unnecessarily at this point. Time was of the essence though, they needed a lead and quickly. It wouldn't do for them to be traveling in the wrong direction, only to need to double back.
He prayed that Marguarite was okay, or at least doing her best to survive as best she could.
When he had told Pops about her capture, the man had after the initial rage, shared a bit of her backstory and the circumstances of how she had become part of the crew. However, the one thing he said that hit him the hardest, was his harsh regret that he might not be able to keep the promise that he had made to her.
' When she agreed to become my daughter, I promised her that she would not have to go through those sorts of things again. I swear Marco, if they make me have to go back on that promise, they're going to wish that all I had done was simply killed them.'
A Bit Further Away to the North
There was a lot more arguing and yelling and blame-shuffling as the men yelled at each other about who had the bright idea to take one of the Whitebeards, while others yelled about the fact that it didn't matter as it wasn't like the Whitebeards would ever catch them and to just get rid of her. Marguerite simply let them have at it, her mind was already on possibilities for escape, or at least to somehow get away long enough for her brothers and father to arrive.
She couldn't leave the rest of the captives to their fate, and she'd already promised the boy that she wouldn't leave him alone. However, trying to escape with that many people from a sailing ship was nigh impossible unless they took over the ship themselves, but trying to do that with a group of civilian prisoners who were injured, scared and uncoordinated was simply asking for failure.
She could see that none of the men carried transponders on them. Darn it. But all of them seemed to carry knives, batons, or pistols. Some of them had swords, and some just seemed to be armed with their fists. They also all carried sets of keys, though what all the keys were for she had no idea, but they were definitely promising. If she could just snatch a set…
Eventually, it was decided that they would just ask their boss, "his lordship". (Marguerite could only guess that this was the noble bastard she had seen briefly when she was brought on board.) Until then, they would just hold off, keep her restrained and throw her back in her cell.
Chained up once again, she was hauled off the table and one of the men took her by the arm, marching her back out of the room. Once out of it, she shivered from the severe change in temperature and struggled to keep her torn garments together, even as she was callously pulled down the many halls.
As they walked alone down the paths, she tried to get an idea of the ship's size.
When the ships had attacked, there had been two galleons within the group and she guessed that this was one of them. It was big enough to hold at least 40-50 people or more, not including their slave merchandise, so probably even more. A ship of this size would certainly lend to there being many nooks and crannies that one could get lost in. If she could somehow—
Marguerite gasped suddenly as she was abruptly pulled into one of those previously mentioned small dark empty corridors!
Pulling into what looked to be a boiler room, she was thrown face first, violently up against the wall. A hand was clasped painfully against her mouth with the press of a body up against hers keeping her pinned in place.
Swearing loudly at having been so involved in her thoughts that she had gotten distracted from the very company she was keeping, she attempted to wrest her limbs from his grasp but couldn't quite find any leverage to move, let alone fight back.
A raspy voice whispered heavily into her ear, "I don't think it really matters who you think you are or whose mark you carry, everyone knows the only way you're getting off this boat is either in chains or in a bodybag, so we might as well have some fun beforehand, don't ya think?"
Enraged and feeling the beginnings of desperation rising up within her, Marguerite growled before leaning as far as she could to bite the hand covering her mouth. The guard who held her cursed loudly, pulling his hand away instinctively.
She took advantage of the slip to cry out, yelling loudly. "GET THE HELL OFF ME YOU SON OF A BI–"
CRRAACK!
Pain burst throughout her head as he struck her in the head with a pipe that had somehow appeared in his hand, "Shut your trap!"
He followed it by punching her with a heavy fist in the face, causing her ears to ring and her vision to blur! She could taste the coppery flavor of blood in her mouth.
Temporarily incapacitated and dazed, she was virtually helpless as he tossed her to the floor. "You're gonna pay for that, pirate slut."
Using her shackles, he wrenched her arms over her head, the heavy pressure of his body was pressing down onto her own, making it difficult to breathe, let alone move.
Ripping the already destroyed bodice of her dress, Marguerite tried her best to fight through the pain and to kick out with her legs, but the pressure of his much larger body restrained much of her movement!
Feeling his hands on her, her disgust and panic skyrocketed. She couldn't do this! She couldn't do this!
No…
Please!
She'd promised herself…
He had promised her—never again!
Fear and instinct taking over, she once again attempted to scream only for him to once again strike her across the face. Grabbing her stinging jaw and squeezing hard, he forced it open before gagging her with a piece of torn cloth from her own dress.
Why? Why wasn't she stronger than this?
This was not supposed to happen. Not again. And yet here she was, once again weak and helpless, allowing this filth to touch her! Every stroke, caress, squeeze, even the slightest graze was like fire on her skin.
She had just begun to feel clean again while living on the Moby, now only to be subject to the hands of another rotten maggot!
She wanted to force the tears back, that she wasn't going to cry.
That she refused!
She had to be strong! That she must survive this! She could not–would not–shatter!
But even as she fought back, her body began to betray her and she could feel the sting of hot liquid welling up in the corners of her eyes, and she squeezed them shut in an attempt to combat them.
Her body also began to shut down as her old survival instincts were coming back into play after years of disuse, already considering the fight over. It was her body's way of trying to avoid further injury. To just go along with it and live to see another day.
Her mind began to seek thoughts elsewhere and even though Marguerite had enough knowledge to know that she was beginning to disassociate, she could no more help it, than she could stop the tears.
It was only her body after all…
Little Margot was somewhere else. Somewhere safe…with her family…sailing away on a dream…
.
.
.
BANNGGGG!
The sudden sound of metal clanging with flesh and bone shook her from out of her mental sanctuary! No!
Her eyes flew open, but what she saw was in no way what she expected to see.
Standing above them both was a figure, tallish but gangly, nearly skin and bones and dressed in rags.
It was a boy as far as she could tell, and in his hand, he hefted another large metal pipe, and once again, he brought it down hard on the back of the guard's head!
The man yelled out as he took the full force of the bludgeoning blow, and while it didn't look as if the boy's strength was enough to knock him out fully, it had definitely dazed him! Her chest heaved and her eyes were nearly completely blown out as she could only lie there in shock at what had happened. Her mental state was trying to figure out what to do!
'Get up daughter! Get. up.'
Hearing her captain's voice in her head, her body simply reacted.
With the lapse in restraint, Margot used her legs to push herself out from under the man's weight. Reangling her strained arms, she swiftly struck out with the heel of her hand striking the man sharply in the nose even as he was still on kneeling on the ground.
"Ahhh!" her captor cried out in pain as cartilage and bone snapped and blood ran down his face.
But she wasn't done.
'Never leave a man wounded enough to still move. If you don't finish him, he will finish you.'
Her brother Izo's words came back to her, and she used the man's folded-up position to throw him off-center, kicking him hard in his chest. As he landed on his back, she didn't give him any time to react before she landed her knee down fully on his exposed crotch!
Hearing the grinding of bone and flesh and the howl of pain that followed, Marguerite almost wanted to smile at the beautiful sound. However, she wasn't quite done yet.
Spying the pipe that he had used on her, the brunette grabbed it and with her adrenaline and hysteria powering her every move, she hefted it over her shoulder and brought it down with all the force she could on the bastard's head!
CRACCK!
The body went limp and the only sound that could be heard was her own heaving breaths.
It was over. She was safe.
It was going to be okay.
It was…
Eventually.
Once it was clear that the man was not going to get up anytime soon, Marguerite allowed herself time to catch a breather, but only just. While her own screams probably wouldn't have brought the other guards running, hearing their comrade yell out, might just have bought a different reaction. She had to move. And she had to make sure the son of a bitch didn't talk.
She hadn't forgotten in her frenzy, the waif who had come to her rescue. Out of the corner of her eyes, She could see that he was standing in the shadows, huddling away from them both. His face was turned away from her, and he seemed to be trying his best not to look at her, even though he did seem to be aware of everything going on.
She didn't know who or what he was to ship, a cabin boy or a servant, though her strongest bet was that he was slave labor. But whatever he was, he had gone through great risk to help her, and there was a very real possibility that he was recognized. She couldn't let the kid get hurt for her.
However, if nobody talked, then nobody would be the wiser.
Knowing what she was going to do. She once again picked up the metal pipe, raising it up in her hand.
The boy winced at her action though he didn't move or say anything as from the side of his eye, he cataloged her movements.
Looked down with repulsion, her fiery anger had turned to icy rage, Marguerite raised the pipe before bringing it down hard on the man's ankles and shins. She then did the same to his wrists.
The crack of fractured bones was music to her ears.
Finally, with a well-placed, almost surgical precision shot, She aimed for the man's jaw, Shattering the mandible in several pieces!
Let him try to talk now.
She had thought about just outright killing him, but that would cause rot and stink. An incapacitated living person was harder to find than a dead one, as long as they were in a place one rarely goes. And she needed as much of a head start as she could get.
The wheels in her head were already turning as she dropped the pipe and began to rummage through the man's pockets, taking the ring of keys, a lighter, and a pocketknife. Storing them in the pockets of her skirts, she thought about trying to take her shackles off, but there was enough give in them to allow a bit of maneuverability and she didn't have the time right now to try all the keys. Better to be in a place of relative safety before trying that.
She then grabbed the man's shoulders, to try and pull him further behind the pipes and machinery. However, a combination of his dead weight, her weakened form, and the fact that she didn't even want to touch him, made headway extremely slow.
After a few moments of trying to do this, a light hand reached around and pushed her own aside.
She glanced up in surprise as the boy, still refusing to look directly at her, pickup up the guard from under the arms and began to pull him steadily over to the darkened area behind the boiler.
Huh, it seemed there was actual muscle underneath than malnourished form.
As the panic began to draw away and she was beginning to catch her bearings, she actually took a complete look at her rescuer.
He was about as tall as she was and, while still obviously an adolescent, it was hard to tell his age because of his emaciated state. She could guess anything from 13 to 16 years of age. He was completely filthy. His skin looked like it hadn't seen a bath in weeks. His hair was more than likely blond from what she could tell, though it badly needed to be washed and cut. It fell along his shoulders and over his face, nearly hiding it, in limp, dull strands that resembled straw in texture. Barefoot with ragged dark pants and a gray shirt that nearly swallowed him, the kid still moved with both swiftness and silence, stuffing the guy behind some pipes pretty quickly.
With that done, Marguerite was in a hurry to leave the place. She never wanted to set foot in the room again. In fact, if she could have her way (and hopefully she would soon) she would rather the entire ship be scuttled and burned until it was nothing but ash! But alas, she would have to be patient.
As the boy pattered back towards her, she slipped her hand around his wrist. "Come on, let's get out of here."
She headed towards the door, only to be pulled back as the boy seemed to resist her pull. Looking back at him in question, she could see him shuffle a bit in place, his head still turned away from her.
Translating this as some form of fear mixed with nervousness and perhaps a bit of shyness, she tried her best to adopt a calm tone that she usually used with children, while also trying to get him to understand the necessity for a speedy escape.
"Hey, thank you so much for what you did. You were very brave to do that. You're my prince in shining armor and I owe you a great debt. But, for right now, we've got to get out of here before someone comes investigating. I don't want you to get in any kinda trouble, okay?"
While the kid still said nothing, she could tell he was listening, A small blush forming across his cheeks at her words.
She tried to pull him quickly but gently along with her once again, but also once again he resisted her. This time he slipped his hand from hers before taking a step away.
Perhaps he is supposed to stay here and doesn't want to leave?
She could briefly notice the blue-grey eyes barely peeking from behind the curtain of blond hair, looked down nervously, shifting back and forth as if trying to decide something. Then surprisingly, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back.
She had to stop herself from flinching and reacting on instinct, reminding herself that the kid wasn't a threat. Perhaps he was afraid for her and was trying to tell her something.
He let go of her after a moment and then reached over and began to pull off his shirt.
His chest and sides, from what she could see, were covered in several burns and crisscrossing scourge marks, and bruises painted a purple and black picture over pale skin. There were indeed signs of lean muscle on him, probably from constant manual labor, but her nurse's mind was already counting how many nutritional deficiencies she could already see.
The gleam of a heavy metal collar around his neck stood stark as his badge of status on the ship. And she swore then and there to free this boy and any others like him, and she would be the first to torch this hellhole.
Without looking at her, surprisingly he then thrust the shirt over to her, and for the first time, he spoke. His voice was low but clear. "Here."
She reached for it in confusion but was happy that he had begun to talk to her. Why was he giving this to her? She didn't want to deprive him of what looked to be the only clothes he had, right off his back.
However, the fact that she could see a blush rising up on his cheeks underneath the layers of dirt, and a breeze from the slightly open door caused a chill to go up her back, and brought a very important point up to her.
For the first time, now with her fight-or-flight response beginning to calm down, and she could think clearly, she suddenly realized why the boy had not been able to look up at her or make eye contact.
Looking down, she could see that her dress was in tatters, and while her skirts were still relatively okay, the bodice was utterly destroyed. And of course, that meant that nearly every part of the top of her was revealed to the open air.
Biting her lip, the feelings of disgust and filthiness came over her, especially as her own bruises could be seen on her arms, neck, and chest. Before she could think too hard about it, she quickly pulled the boy's shirt over her head, thankful that the boy had stopped her before she had left the room like that.
Once she was done, the blond finally turned to look up at her, and she smiled gratefully. "Thank you."
He nodded before grabbing her arm himself and pulling her towards the door. "Come on."
She blinked in surprise but allowed him to lead her. He probably knew this ship better than she did.
The two of them headed out into the hall, moving into the shadows and away just in time!
Hearing the sound of people coming towards them in loud voices, Marguerite looked around quickly for a place to hide. The boy without missing a beat, pushed her hurriedly into a thin crevice in the wall, hidden by shadow and another pipe. It was a tight fit even for her, but if she didn't move and didn't make a sound and nobody investigated too thoroughly….
But the kid! He was totally exposed!
Instead of trying to hide with her, the boy quickly raised a finger to his lips before rushing away from her in plain sight of the hall. He placed himself in the jam of the boiler room door they had just exited, looking as if he had just come out from there.
Two of the other guards quickly came into view. "I think I heard Jacque yelling over here!"
However, when they saw the boy, they both stopped and looked at him for a moment before sighing, all sense of hurry leaving them.
"Aw, it's only blondie." One of them sighed in annoyance.
The other one looked at the state of the kid, who in return simply kept his face to the floor in silence. He sneered with disgust, "Man, you'd think Jacque wouldn't be that desperate. I mean, I thought he had his eye on some of the girls we brought in."
"Hey, goldilocks! Jacque still in there sleepin' it off?" the man asked the boy.
The blond still looking away from them, only nodded in return.
One of the guards laughed while the other smacked his lips with exaggerated irritation. Reaching forward, he kicked the door behind the kid hard.
"Get back to work, ya stupid lout! If ya got time to screw blondie over here, then you've got time to do your chores. Get ya'self together, or his ass isn't the only one that's gonna be sore!"
Not even waiting for an answer the two walked away talking and grumbling about their next shifts and how Jacque got all the breaks. However, at this point, Marguerite had stopped listening. The indications of the men's words burned in the pit of her stomach like acid, and the fact that the boy seemed to take them as matter-of-fact, reviled her.
No wonder the kid hadn't flinched when she had methodically broken the bastard's bones. She was right now, weighing the pros and cons of simply going back in there and finishing the job.
No, the agony of several crushed bones would be better for scum like him.
The blond was checking the halls before he quietly waved her forward. Slipping from her hiding place, she quietly hurried up behind him.
He spoke quietly to her, "Hurry, the halls will be empty for now. I can take you towards one of the staircases near where the lifeboats are. If you wait until the dead of night, you should be able to take one and escape from here."
He was about to continue on when she quickly grabbed his arm to stop him. He flinched only slightly at the contact, but Margot was careful to remain nonthreatening. She of all people knew the limits of touch when it came to a compromised person…
"I'm not leaving."
From behind the curtain of long hair, she could see him blink with confusion. But he stayed silent so she continued.
"I can't leave all the others here. Also leaving only on a lifeboat in the middle of New World waters would be suicidal."
"They'll notice you're gone sooner than later." he pointed out.
She nodded, "I'll just have to keep moving and keep out of their hands long enough for us to get rescued."
He simply stood there looking at her, and while it was hard for her to see his eye expression, she could guess it was one of disbelief.
"I need to get a transponder, long range. Do you know where I can get one?"
"The Navy won't do anything if you call them for help. My master is a high-ranking noble with friends among the celestials." He responded flatly.
She had figured that out already. Only someone with that kind of arrogance would be attempting something like this.
"No, my family will be coming for me. However, I need to somehow find a way to tell them where I am."
"Family?" his voice held just a tinge of incredulity and scorn.
However, she didn't blame him for his disbelief. "You saw the mark on my back, right?"
The kid quickly turned away, a blush on his cheeks before nodding.
She smiled gently, moving her grip down to his hand. "That's the symbol of the jolly roger of the strongest man in the world. My family will come for me. And when they do, I promise that you and every other slave will be free from this place."
He looked at her silently for a moment, his thoughts hidden and clouded within his stormy blue eyes. She knew her words would probably still be just words to him, but all she needed was for him to just place the smallest belief in her. She could take care of the rest. Now that she was free, she refuse to be helpless again.
Sighing he closed his eyes before shrugging, "Alright then, if you're going to stay then what do you want to do?"
Grinning, she clasped his hand in reassurance. "I will need a way to stay out of sight for the next few days, perhaps even a week or two. Does this ship have an air duct system?"
His eyes snapped open in surprise, then he nodded, understanding her plan. "That may work if you're quick enough. I use them sometimes, though unlike me, you don't have a collar that can track you. I'll show you the best place to access them."
The two moved quickly through the bowels of the ship, the blond knowing the ins and outs of the twisting and winding paths intimately. Marguerite tried her best to follow along in her head, but ultimately just decided to not bother. She would explore more on her own later.
The boy took her to a section with a grate and jiggling it a bit, it easily came off showing the dusty entrance to the air shaft.
"Most of the tunnels should be large enough for you to slip easily through, though some can be a tight squeeze. There are five levels to the ship. Stay away from the bow of the ship as that's where most of them sleep. Stores and the kitchen are in the aft on the starboard side on this and the 3rd level, we're currently on the 4th level."
She nodded, "And the communications room?"
"2nd level, also in the aft, port side." He mentioned quietly, "It's dangerous though, someone is always near there. One of them, or one of the other slaves who are constantly sending messages from the master to the main estate from there."
She had gathered that, but it didn't matter. She had to do this. She wasn't going to stay in this place any longer than absolutely necessary. Her skills as a pickpocket were a bit dusty, but certainly nabbing a single transponder snail was still within her power.
Rubbing his bare arms restlessly, the kid glanced away toward the far wall, "I can see if I can get a transponder for you. I mostly work in the kitchens, but it would be far less dangerous for me to be there, than for you to try to sneak in."
She smiled admiringly in wonder at this kid who would willingly risk so much for her, when he had no reason to and that it obviously would be such a risk to himself. She knew he must be cold in this drafty crate, having given her the very shirt off his back. She doubted he had another. Once she had found something else to wear around the ship, she'd promptly return it to him. Then when they had all finally escaped this place, she'd have them all burned and have Izo make them both some new real clothes.
For now, she just shook her head, taking his hand gratefully, "You've already done more than enough, I'll take it from here. I don't need you putting yourself at even more risk."
"I can't let a lady do this alone…and it would all be for nothing if you get caught." He muttered.
She smiled warmly and took hold of his other hand as well, willing him to raise his head and meet her eyes. " I know you don't believe me yet, but you will. I WILL get you and every other prisoner and slave of this ship out of here. You ran a huge risk saving me from that bastard. It will not be forgotten."
He stared at her in shock before he quickly turned away again, mumbling under his breath. "I-I didn't do it for that."
She nodded, "I know why you did it."
He looked away from her in shame, but she squeezed his hand to tell him it was okay and that she understood.
Not willing to let either of them dwell on the trauma that either of them had faced, she brought up her next task. She would find supplies, food, and a transponder and keep away from her captors for as long as possible. However, she had another responsibility. She couldn't leave her tiny injured cellmate where he was. Once her disappearance was noted, they were bound to search her cell and find him. Either that or they would notice his disappearance and that piece of refuse noble would demand him found.
She also couldn't leave him in that condition, he was probably infected already, and that temporary fix to his trachea would only last so long.
No, she had to keep him will her. The air vents were probably no good for his situation, but it was better than the alternative.
"Thank you again for everything you've done. I will take care of finding the transponder myself. However, there is one other thing that I need help with if you can."
He nodded hesitantly waiting to hear what she had to say.
"Can you lead me back to where all the other cells are? I need to go there first."
He looked like he wanted to ask her why, but he simply nodded. "Right now, they're all eating their fill. But we had better hurry just in case one of them decides to come back early."
However, this time instead of leading her back through the hall, he pulled her towards the air duct. When asked why he said "I can show you some paths so you won't be so lost later. Also, we'll have less risk of being seen. Be careful of your chains though, you don't want them making too much noise."
Marguerite reached into her pocket for the keys, looking through each of them hoping that one of them would fit. If she couldn't get them off, she would just have to make do or search around for a filer.
The kid reached over and slipped them from her hand, finding the key with familiarity, he took her wrist in his.
"When new merchandise gets too injured or sick or dies, we're given the job of unlocking their shackles and tossing them overboard." He murmured dispassionately by way of explanation.
The pit of her stomach turned at the idea and the fact that he had had to bear the burden of being forced to carry out such a task. As one shackle came off, she responded quietly, "I'm going to guess that the keys to your collar aren't on here?"
He gave a small snide laugh at that, "No, they're not that stupid. The controls for the slave collars are with the master at all times."
After the chains were released with a click. She tossed them aside rubbing at her freed wrists. But should couldn't even fully enjoy her new freedom knowing how many others, including the boy who had set her free, were still enslaved and caged in this dump.
He handed her the keys back and she asked, "Does this unlock the seastone cuffs?"
He looked at her with curiosity but ultimately shook his head. "Devil Fruit users are considered too dangerous and are also worth a lot more. Only those at the top have the keys for them."
She nodded solemnly, oh well, she would have to make do.
He quickly went through the other keys, one of them opened the doors to cells, one was to the supply stores, one for the infirmary, a couple were for different passageways, and other such things.
Motioning towards the darkness of the air duct, he indicated for her to enter first before he followed in behind her. It was indeed a snug fit as she moved around on her hands and knees, but it would work for now. She crawled forward, allowing room for his lankier frame to also enter. The boy pulled the grate back in after him, before shuffling in after her.
"Just go straight for a while until you hit a turn-off, then go to the right."
She did as he said, and eventually, the light was almost completely gone, only the little coming in from a couple of grates up ahead making any headway in the gloom. As a comfortable silence once again settled, Marguerite asked as tactfully as she could. "How long have you been here?"
He answered plainly, "I've been enslaved here for the last 4 years."
That burning feeling in her stomach returned again.
"You've been a slave for 4 years?"
He answered back matter-of-factly. It was simply the reality of the situation for him. "I've been a slave for 8 years. I was sold here 4 years ago."
"But you're just a kid!"
"I'm fifteen," he said sullenly.
" A. kid." she reiterated. He was a bit small for a 15-year-old but it was probably because of years of malnutrition during his most formative years. It wasn't irreversible…at least not yet.
She couldn't see his face when he responded, but she could guess his expression belayed his years.
"I think you and I both know how little that matters in a place like this. To people like them."
Indeed she knew what it was like to grow up much too soon. To have one's innocence stolen and trampled on without even a second thought. Trapped where there isn't any kind of future, breaking your back for someone else's sake.
But that didn't stop her from wanting better for those around her. Her new life allowed her to believe that there could be more for people like her siblings...for this boy…or for the boy injured in the cell.
"That doesn't mean that I have to accept that," she answered quietly.
She once again swore with every breath in her body that if anything else, she would make sure this child was freed from this place. And it was for some reason only then as she realized that in all this time, in their hurry, that she had no idea of his name!
Deciding to correct that, she spoke up introducing herself. "My name is Marguerite, by the way."
After a moment, he returned, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Marguerite."
She nearly giggled at his overly-polite tone, though she had noticed that his way of speech wasn't that of someone you would generally think had been a lowly slave since he was eight years old. She also noticed the presence of a North Blue accent similar to hers that also persisted in his voice. She would store those things away for later reference in perhaps finding his family if he had any left.
"Just 'Marguerite' is fine, though my really close family calls me Margot as well. What about you?"
This time the pause was even longer, and she could feel that the boy had become a bit more uncomfortable. His voice was softer and there was a trace of chagrin in his tone. "They…they call me many things…"
Her thoughts were dampened as she remembered the various names the guards had called him and could guess that those were probably on the nicer end of the spectrum. So she rephrased her question.
"What's your name?" she asked gently.
Silence.
At this point, after a minute, then two passed and he didn't respond, she had to guess that perhaps he didn't yet trust her with his real name.
It made sense. Names were powerful, and it was easy to separate yourself from the humiliation and debasement of each day if you could disassociate yourself from it. And one of the easiest ways to do that was to not use your real name as much as possible. To keep it hidden away inside of you, far away from others who would abuse it. She could respect that.
After that, they continued on in silence for a little longer, both surrounded by their own thoughts and ghosts. Eventually, Marguarite decided that it was best to get some logistics out of the way. The more information she had, the more she could report back when she made contact with the Moby.
"Tell me about this entire operation. Who is in charge? How many men and ships do they have? How many slaves are aboard each ship? How many guards? Where do you guys stay in comparison to the other prisoners?"
The kid thought through the string of questions. "Well…there are two main ships. They are—Ahhh!"
The boy's sudden outcry of pain mixed with a buzzing noise and the smell of ozone caused her to stop in alarm.
"Hey! What's the matter?!"
She tried to turn around to look at him but it was a bit difficult in the cramped space.
He seemed to catch his breath, heaving deeply in an obvious attempt to stave off pain. "It-It's alright…I–I'm being summoned… I have to go. Go forward a little more, there should be another opening on your right."
Worried for him, she moved quickly. So foolish, she had become so comfortable with her new ally that it slipped her mind how limited his time probably must be. She could only hope she hadn't made things too difficult for him.
Coming up to the grate, she looked through carefully, making sure no one was around before pushing it loose in order to open it. The ducts were still moving along the ground, so she only had to carefully move out onto the floor and stand up in the passageway. The blond followed her, and he moved the grate back into place.
Marguerite, now in the lamplight of the hallway was able to look over him for any injury. She moved carefully not to startle him, but she could see his eyes widen in surprise in response to her care.
"It's alright…I'm fine." He murmured, slightly flustered at her attention.
She zeroed in on the collar around his neck and she hissed at what she saw. What she had first assumed were more bruises, were actually built-up scar tissue from small electrical burns over time. It was red now, having become abused once again.
They weren't satisfied with placing demeaning metal shackles on human beings, they had to make them explosives and tracking devices, invisible chains that were as strong as any other, their lives literally in their master's hands, to play with or destroy on a whim.
But they were basically also shock collars made to cruelly subdue and subjugate, wicked ways of calling them like dogs to come to heel, except oh so much worse.
She looked over the rest of his quickly, having already made note of a large number of marks and scars that came from canes and whips, the two brands on his back that now made sense knowing he had been resold. The newer fresh wounds that she could see hadn't been treated and she knew it was pure happenstance that he hadn't become sick yet from infection. But it was only a matter of time.
She would remember all this and remember it well. It would be burned into her memory.
Stepping away after a moment, he pointed in the opposite direction further along from where they stood. "If you go a little further that way, you will reach the holding cells and the brig. Use the keys I showed you to open the doors. Though know that if you set too many people free it will only cause you to be caught more quickly."
She had known that from the beginning. "I understand."
He shifted slightly on his bare feet looking as if he wanted to add something else. She patiently waited even though she knew that they couldn't stand out here together in the open for long.
Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and to her surprise, gripped her hand in his own. "Past all the holding cells, there is a ladder leading down even further to the bowls of the ship. There you'll find the Tank."
"The Tank?"
He tried his best to explain it. "I-It's where they throw us if they think the normal punishments aren't enough."
Ah. Solitary confinement.
She nodded her understanding and so he hurriedly continued.
"Chained up in there is a boy my age with green hair. Can you…would you…if you maybe…could just check on him? Make sure he's…well, tell him to hang on? That I'm okay, but he has to stay alive, please?"
So, he wasn't alone here. He had someone who was important to him here and whom he cared about. What a continuously complex and cruel situation.
She smiled and nodded, happy to do it. "Leave it to me. I'll even treat him if I can. But you had better hurry, I don't want you to get caught helping me."
He gripped his fists tight, his bluish-grey eyes wavering, the gratitude obvious within them. "Thank you. I'll find you later. I'll also try to get that transponder for you."
He had turned and run off before she could remind him not to do something so dangerous.
Margaurite sighed with only slight exasperation before turning and moving away in the opposite direction. Time to get to work. First, get her little tracheotomy patient out of his impromptu hiding place and secret him away inside the air duct tunnels. On the way, check for the blond's green-haired friend and if at all possible, set him free or at least treat him. And then—
"Hey! Ms. Marguerite!"
Hearing the boy's voice so soon, she turned back around, afraid something had happened. The kid was alone though as he ran back up to her.
As he got a little closer, he tried to catch his breath and reached up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. For the first time, she was able to see the whole of his face without the long stringy strands obscuring most of it. And while his face was a bit gaunt, showing signs of emaciation, his dirt-smeared skin looked mildly healthy, and his eyes showed a lively glow. Interestingly, something she hadn't noticed before, was the fact that his slender eyebrows appeared to form in the shape of spirals at the ends. Curious.
"Kid?"
"Sanji."
She blinked. What?
He looked up at her while trying to gather breath, and yet smiling brightly. "My name. You ask me before. My name is Sanji."
Realizing both what he was and wasn't saying by revealing this to her, but also just so happy to be able to call him something other than "kid" or "blond", Marguerite beamed back at him. Taking hold of her skirts, she dipped into a curtsy. "Happy to make your acquaintance, Sanji."
To her surprise, he dropped into a perfect waist-level bow before giving her a friendly wave and running off once again.