July 13th, 2003
Yorkshire England, UK
The girl wasn't found until nightfall when the scent of food lured her to the cafeteria. Several men in blue-grey uniforms lingered in the doorway, watching, puzzled, as this small person tried to squeeze her way though as if they weren't there.
"Hey, hey, who are you? You can't just come in here." one said, trying to block her path without touching her. The girl looked at the man in front of her blankly, then pointed at the pasta on another's tray inside.
"You don't talk?", he asked, but the girl just kept pointing at the pasta until the man scratched his head in defeat. "Anyone else know what the hell is going on here?"
"Jesus, looks like she fell in a chipper-" added a second but cut off as the girl finally slipped through and tried to get behind the lunch counter. The first rubbed his temples and sighed. This was one of those situations that called for the police, but that wasn't how things were done around here.
"Somebody get this kid some medical and some food- Hey, you can't just take that!"
Kidman's first, and perhaps only theft at VILE; a handful of pasta.
None of the grey-shirts in VILE's Maintenance and Repair enclave were sure what to do with the mute foundling, and after days of not knowing, they stopped caring, coming to accept the girl as part of the scenery. At first the she simply wandered around camp, but the girl's curiosity led her to be drafted into small tasks, and from those she mastered larger ones. 'The kid' soon became Kid, her last name added later when a half-joke about Nicole Kidman stuck.
It took several months before Kidman became aware of what VILE actually was, and by the time, she didn't care. Theft wasn't presented as a terrible crime, but rather a daring, fantastical game that their awesome and benevolent leader played against the world.
After a while Kidman's naivety wore away, although she maintained a healthy level of pride. Her wounds healed into scars, she relearned how to speak, albeit with a strange accent at first, caught up with objects of everyday use, such as shoes, and eventually grew to function on a level that was fairly close to everyone else.
It never occurred to her to question the condition she had entered VILE in, nor what brought her to VILE in the first place. No one asked either, for VILE was not the sort to pry, and no one felt comfortable approaching what, by her appearance, was obviously a traumatic history.
Yet to Kidman, it wasn't obvious at all. She saw many people on base with scars, and more than a few with grey hair. She had even seen pictures of young girls with silver hair and large eyes in magazines. If it was in a magazine, it had to be normal, and hence she found no reason to think on it further.
She had her uniform, her alcove above the garage, her teammates, her leader, her pasta. It was more than enough to satisfy and for nearly two years Kidman and very, very happy.
Extra funs: A fairly accurate chronicle of what Kidman did as a stormtrooper VILE grunt her first few years.
(Click here to view them in order.)
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