Part 4.4

I may had made a mistake when I created the loot hillock. When I was piling loot together I never took into account what would happen if I needed to go through it for something specific. If I wanted to get some clothes it ment I had to go and literally dig my way into the pile until I found something I could use.

At first I just looked at the hillock and contemplated if there was another way I could do this other than literally digging my way into it, but I couldn't think of anything. Nothing smart at least. I shrugged and said, "No one ever got anything done by just planning."

With that, I stuck both hands into the pile of stuff and began rooting around. Something pricked my hand and I withdrew with a yelp. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then I adjusted my mask and stuck my fingers in my mouth.

Damn! That hurt.

I pulled my fingers out and readjusted my mask. There was a nasty looking puncture there on my fingers.

What the heck did that? I thought I had thicker skin...

I shuffled the loot aside until I saw what had done the damage. Surprisingly, it was the lawn-dart I had thrown to clear a path through town. How the hell did it come back here to my loot pile? Some foul sorcery I bet.

I pick the lawn-dart up and when I do, I catch something interesting beneath it. I stick my hand in again and retrieve something I hope is useful. When I examine it closer I smile widely.

I found a vest! Not just any vest, it's a vest with dark green and light grey stripes. Kinda like my prisoner shirt, but not. I have no idea why this vest has a hood, but I'm not complaining. Maybe it will keep my head dry in case it does that 'rain' thing. Rain is practically the sky leaking. Impel Down leaked occasionally, I hated when the drops landed on my head. A hood would had been great then. I tried to use my mask to cover the top of my head, but it had too many holes.

First world problems.

I thread the chains of my shackles through my old shirt and throw it off. I repeat the process and put on the first piece of clothing I've ever worn that isn't black and white. I'm going to be honest. It feels pretty good. The vest doesn't have any buttons and I don't want to bother zipping it up so I leave it open.

Almost immediately afterwards I find some pants I really like. Well, they're pants but I'm a big guy, so they're more shorts. But that's not the most important thing! They're brown! Brown pants! I've always wanted brown pants!

If I wear brown pants no one will be able to tell if they are dirty.

The brown pants also have lost of cargo pockets which I appreciate. I stuff my lawn-darts in one pocket where they immediately punch a hole and dangle dangerously.

Heh. Dangle dangerously. You know what else dangles dangerously?

Bats...

Shoes were much easier to find. I just walked into a few abandoned or burnt out houses until I found something that fit my massive feet. I find some boots I struggle to put on, and eventually I'm forced to think smarter. I can't get the floppy bits that come up from the boot to close tight.

I open a few drawers in a kitchen until I find a knife with a saw edge and I begin cutting. When I'm done, I'm left with some modified steel toe shoes with lots of extra laces.

I struggle to tie my new shoes but eventually give up and just tuck the laces in. That's future me's problem.

I make my way back to the seat I set atop the loot and wait. I told everyone to come back here when they were done, and from where I'm sitting it looks like they're running out of stuff to burn by this point.

Loot and burn. That's what Keystone told me to do.

But why?

He had explained how Brakka Village hadn't paid their tithes, but they were still technically members of the World Government even if the Marines wouldn't help them. Why would he want his own people to get slaughtered?

"I don't like killing." I say aloud to myself, alone on a pile of loot amidst the fires. Fires I had started.

"People died today. People die every day. What difference does it make if you killed them or not?" A familiar voice calls out.

From behind a building Gurry emerges. Somehow, he had found a robe and a load of bead necklaces with very large beads. Most of them are around his neck and body, but he has one in his hand and he slowly cycles through the beads with his fingers.

I reply, "I think it matters. I'm not sure why I agreed do to as Keystone asked. It's caused this-"

Gurry interrupts, "This would've happened anyway. You're not that important. A town like this with no protection is a prime target for anyone with a ship flying the skull and crossbones. It's always been like this. If you hadn't done this, someone else would've."

I sigh. "I'm confused why it had to happen at all."

"Because the world is not perfect. If it was, I wouldn't have had to spend hundreds of years meditating over everything. For what it's worth, this could've been worse."

"How?" I question.

"You told the men not to kill kids. And they haven't. They have too much fear, hate, and respect for you to disobey what you say."

Really? "Is killing kids that common? That's sad. Beyond sad. I don't think I have words to describe how messed up that is. Everyone was a kid once, and it sucked when you were a kid and got hurt. I got hurt, and that's why I didn't want to hurt children."

Gurry's blank face adopts a sinister smile. "But you have hurt a child."

"When?" I asked alarmed.

"I watched it happen. You killed those twin's father."

"But I didn't hurt them." I explain.

Gurry hums. The beads he's been turning have not stopped this entire time. "Not physically. You hurt their hearts. Their souls. By killing the man who attacked you carved away a piece of them that used to hold something precious and irreplaceable to them. Everyone has a father and other people close to their hearts."

For some reason, an image of Magellan flashes before my eyes. It's a precious memory. The one time I truly saw him smile.

Gurry continues, "When they lose those people, they get hurt themselves. But this is just spiritually. Undoubtedly you have caused the boy's death."

"How!"

"He swore vengeance upon you. He will kill you or die trying. My bet is on him dying."

I don't have anything to say to that. I prop my head on the arm of my chair and wait for everyone else to come back. Gurry himself takes a seat, leaning against the pile of loot. The beads in his hand have continued to move, and I'm beginning to think they won't ever stop.