Chapter Text
Hartley Rathaway is many things. He is a genius, a polyglot, and, perhaps most importantly, an asshole. He’s more than those labels, however. He attends meetings for Central City’s admittedly small socialist party, and he uses “liberated” funds to sponsor LGBTQ youth programs.
He hates a lot of things. He hates his family for disowning him. He hates Dr. Harrison Wells for, God, everything. He hates the irony of his metahuman ability most of all. Sound has never been his ally. When he is born, it denies him. His parents force sound into his life, through implants that pain him. And, when Harrison Wells fires him and the particle accelerator explodes, sound attacks him.
Hartley responds by stealing sound-canceling headphones from the nearest shooting gallery, and he designs his own implants that protect him from sound. It is a war, he realizes. He reacts accordingly, and plants explosives into his ears.
He designs sonic technology in many stages. First, there are the gloves. He can set them to various objects’ natural frequencies, and Hartley smiles at his brilliance. Again, he is an asshole. From there, he gets his next idea: the pipe. He adjusts a flute to allow him the same destruction as the gloves, but he includes an ability for him to hypnotise people with it.
He likes the flute much better, as only he can use it. That last idea is one of the few adjustments he makes to the original flute he designed at age sixteen. It looks innocuous, so in the event of capture by STAR Labs, he could likely bring it with him. Hartley decides to use the gloves in his first attack. Oh, he notices STAR Labs is where the Flash makes his home. His first real target will be there, he decides, and continues playing with the rats his playing tends to attract.
I’m the Pied Piper, Hartley decides, smirking at his flute and the dozen rats that are curled up at his feet. He recalls his mother’s absolute hatred of rats and drafts a plan to get to STAR Labs from the inside. He raises the flute to his lips and starts a lullaby.
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Cisco Ramon can’t honestly believe his life. He is a genius, damn it. And hilarious, and adorable. Why are his parents so ridiculous? Any other family would treat him as the favorite!
He sighs and shifts his mood somewhere happier. He does get to work at STAR Labs, after all, with the Flash.
“Cisco, any metahuman reports?” Harrison Wells is remarkable in that he manages to loom from his wheelchair. Looming is hard enough when you are taller than someone.
Cisco checks, and, oh, you have got to be kidding him. “The Rathaway home has fallen prey to rats. Exterminators come, but the rats...avoid them and continue destroying the house.”
“...Rathaway?” Harrison Wells blinks, caught off guard for the first time since Cisco has met him. “A metahuman who can control rats, it seems.”
“Please, please, don’t let him be Hartley,” Cisco prays.
“Hartley?” Caitlin says as she enters the room. “As in, Hartley Rathaway? Please tell me we don’t have to deal with him.”
“Who’s Hartley?” Barry asks, somehow already behind Cisco.
Cisco sighs and tells him, “He was our co-worker, but he quit before the particle accelerator went up. It was a big surprise, too, given how much he liked to hold his higher position over us. Hartley Rathaway is a genius. And, unfortunately, an asshole.”
“Wait, Hartley Rathaway? As in, the Rathaways? Why was he working when he has that much money?”
“Parents disowned him when he came out,” Caitlin says, voice soft. It hardens, and she continues. “He doesn’t have access to that money, but my question now is why you mention him, Cisco.”
Cisco tells them about the Rathaway infestation. Barry suits up. He runs to the Rathaway mansion, cocky smile in place as he enters his “Flash” persona.
He reaches the mansion, and Barry hopes he never sees that many rats again.
“Definitely metahuman,” he mutters to his team.
“Please don’t be Hartley,” Barry hears Cisco muttering.
“If it is, that means there’s an excuse to hit him,” Caitlin hisses back, uncharacteristically vicious.
“Hello, Flash. And, of course, your little friends talking to you. Cisco Ramon, Dr. Snow, and the ever-present Harrison Wells,” a voice behind him manages to put a sneer into the words. It’s incredible, and very obnoxious.
“...Fuck,” Cisco bites out.
“Language, Cisquito,” the hooded man--this must be Hartley Rathaway, Barry’s mind supplies belatedly--mocks. “I can hear the radio waves emanating from your suit. About 1900 megahertz. Ignore them, Flash. You know, I wonder: are they going to hear you die?”
“No, they are going to hear you get your ass kicked,” Barry responds. He thinks he should join an improv troupe, as he really is fast on his feet (in many ways).
And then--holy fuck what the fuck is happening? Rathaway is hitting him with...waves? Sonic waves of energy hit him, and holy shit that hurts his ears.
“Flash, what is happening?” Harrison Wells speaks calmly.
“Sonic waves coming from his gloves. I’ve got to get them off,” Barry responds.
“Clever battle plan, Flash,” Hartley calls across at him. What an asshole, Barry thinks.
Barry grabs the gloves off of Rathaway, then he picks him up and runs back to STAR Labs. Barry puts the gloves down before he enters the main hall with Rathaway.
“Being scooped up by a guy clad in head to toe leather is a longtime fantasy of mine, so thanks,” Hartley quips. He notices the three former coworkers of his. “Well, well, well, the gang’s all here. You’ve lasted a lot longer than I would’ve thought, Cisco.”
“And you didn’t last ten seconds against the Flash,” Cisco responds, anger coating his words.
“I was thinking of calling myself Pied Piper,” Hartley smirks. He knows they won’t get his full meaning.
Cisco steps closer to Hartley; surprisingly, he’s angrier. “Hey! I decide the nicknames around here. Although that one’s not bad. Also, rats? Is it because you look like one that you are able to control them?”
“I can hear them, you know. There aren’t any at STAR Labs. That can be fixed,” and Hartley’s smirk deepens. He shifts his expression to something sad. “Caitlin, I never did get that wedding invite.”
“Shut the hell up!” Barry shoves his shoulder, and Cisco leads him to his cell. Hartley learns some about his new accommodations and repays them with snark in four languages. He tries to ignore the anger Harrison Wells’ fake apology inspires.
Hartley waits for them to figure out his plans before he strikes. He pulls the explosives out of his ears--and God, that will never not be painful. His containment blasts open, and he notices Cisco’s crashed position. He smirks; Cisco is clever enough to figure it out after all.
It’s a short step to take out Dr. Snow, and he receives his gloves and the information he wants on the Flash. He quickly mangles the trackers Cisco placed in them and thinks about his plan of killing the Flash.
It is far too easy to become a killer, but Hartley knows he must not add that extra taint on his soul. He reconsiders, however. If he got close to the team at STAR Labs, if he caused distrust towards Harrison Wells, the rewards of such work would be greater than the pain a capture could cause him.
He heads to a bridge, and Hartley...hurts people. He doesn’t like to think about it. Sure, the Flash catches them in time to save them. The trauma Hartley surely causes is painful, and he is the reason for it. He sets his gloves’ emergency frequency to low, and when the Flash begins to recoil in pain, Hartley hopes it is low enough.
He mocks the superhero, hoping his voice doesn’t waver. Hartley is not a coward, but he is not a killer either. Once he gets his revenge, he plans to give more money to his charities.
Then, Harrison Wells, fuck. It can only have been Harrison, and the satellite radio waves destroy his gloves. Hartley thanks someone that he designs his tech to have different frequencies. But sound is screaming in his ears, and he passes out.
He wakes up in his containment cell again, and he smiles. He plants hopes in Cisco’s mind, hopes that Cisco can find Ronnie. Plants doubts about Harrison Wells, without revealing all he has learned. Beginning phase II, he muses, and his smirk, ever present, grows.