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The city was different. So very different from the neighborhood of sameness and unoriginality that the boy had grown up in. Harry’s bare feet were cut up from nails and other sharp objects he’d stepped on as he ran. The pricks gave him pause and allowed his pursuers to get ever closer.
He ducked into an alleyway and scrambled behind a dumpster, pressing against a wall and forcing his breathing to even out. This was harder than it seemed as he’d been running for a long time and he wanted to suck in big gulps of air. Closing his eyes, his body took care of that problem by knocking him out.
He had been running for quite some time after all.
The unconsciousness lasted for maybe three minutes before the sounds of the bad men searching through the alley for him woke him and put the boy on high alert again.
His stomach grumbled.
“Did you hear that?” One of them, the one who had greeted them when they got off the plane and through all the halls of the airport, asked.
They grew silent, listening intently.
Harry’s body ached and his head throbbed. But he held it together. He was used to pain, after all. And they weren’t going to be here forever. Surely, surely they’d continue down the alley to look for him.
“Look.” The first one Harry had met said. There was a moment of silence.
“Is that blood?”
“Yep.”
“Come out kid. Come out come out wherever you are.”
Harry swallowed down the cough that wanted to escape him out of practice and long habit. He didn’t want them to find him. They couldn’t find him.
A body suddenly cut off the light coming in from the street and a face was looking right at Harry.
“Gotcha!”
Harry screamed and hunkered down further. It was no use as the man grabbed his arm and began to pull him out. The man yelped as if if shocked, but, instead of letting go, he tightened his grip and yanked. Harry sobbed as he was pulled from his hiding spot. The man dangled him for a moment, allowing Harry to get a good look and recognize him as another one of his captors who met them in this new place.
Gotham City. The flight attendant had said when they were landing. If they were still in the same place they’d landed in.
“Stop crying, freak.” Someone grabbed Harry from behind and shifted him so that the boy was held to the man’s chest. The boy squirmed and got a look at the last of his current captors, the one who had escorted him from England.
“Come on. Let’s go. We need to get out of here before one of those goddamn Bats comes to investigate.”
Harry kept crying, but stifled his sobs as they carted him away. He was in enough trouble. Might as well try to lessen his punishment.
The trouble all started a week before Harry’s 11th birthday. … No, maybe even before that, on Dudley’s birthday. Harry had talked to and released a snake, and then been banished to his cupboard for the next month. When he was finally allowed out, he was very hungry and thirsty, smelled terrible, and Primary was finished.
Secondary School wouldn’t start until September, so Harry was trapped with months of only Dursleys to look forward to. And then the local comprehensive. At least Dudley was going to Smeltings, so he would be alone and away from his cousin for the first time in his short life.
Then, the letters came.
The first one, Dudley spotted Harry trying to open it and snatched it from him. Uncle Vernon took it from Dudley and began to change color when he saw Harry’s name on the letter. Both boys were ushered out of the kitchen and eavesdropping gave little insight. Uncle Vernon burned the letter and then moved Harry up to Dudley’s second bedroom.
That should have been the end of it, but the next day brought two letters. And four the day after that, Then eight slotted through the sides of the door after Uncle Vernon had the bright idea to nail closed the mail slot. On day 5, the letters were curled up in the egg carton. On day 6, Sunday, letters came streaming from the chimney and through cracks in the window. Uncle Vernon packed them all into a car and drove away.
They drove all day, making several weird turns and getting farther and farther from Surrey. Then, not long after nightfall, they made a stop on a darkened road near a sign for the city of Manchester. Uncle Vernon parked and got out. Then, he opened the trunk and grabbed Harry’s backpack. He opened Harry’s door and dragged him out, shoving the backpack at him. “Be right back, Pet.” He told Aunt Petunia.
They walked for five to ten minutes, along a path that was hard to make out in the dark. Then, they reached a parking lot where a car was waiting. It turned on, shining light in their faces when Uncle Vernon pulled the boy out of the woods, tripping over overlarge shoes.
“Hugo Brocklehurst?”
“That’s me.”
“You have the… Freak you mentioned.”
“I do indeed.” Uncle Vernon let go of Harry’s arm and shoved him forward, towards the man who stood in the shadows. Harry couldn’t make out the features due to the bright light of the car’s headlights.
“Uncle V--?” Harry asked, feeling suddenly very scared.
“Shut it, freak.” Uncle Vernon interrupted hastily. “Mr. Peppington, correct?”
“Yes.” The man, Mr. Peppington, hefted a duffle bag and tossed it to land at Uncle Vernon’s feet. “You’ll find the payment in full there.”
Harry blinked confusedly. Did Uncle Vernon just… sell him? He stood where he was, rather dumbfounded. Uncle Vernon knelt down, grabbed the bag and unzipped it. Sure enough, there were several stacks of British pounds within. Harry siddled closer to get a better look as Uncle Vernon began greedily flipping through the stacks.
“Sir, if you could pass over the kid.”
“Right.” Uncle Vernon grunted. He zipped the bag and threw it over his meaty shoulder. Then, he reached down and grabbed Harry’s chin roughly, lifting the kid to his tiptoes. Harry grabbed onto Vernon reflexively for balance. “Listen here, freak. I’ve had enough of your funny business. You’re going to go with that man over there and you’re not going to give him any trouble. You ever end up on our doorstep again, and we’ll make sure it’s the last time you see the light of day, understood? Don’t mention us to anyone ever. We’re through.”
Harry shook in his Uncle’s grip. Uncle Vernon studied him, and seemed to see some sort of agreement in Harry’s eyes, because he let go and all but threw Harry at Mr. Peppington. Mr. Peppington took one step forward and grabbed Harry’s arm at the elbow.
“Pleasure doing business with you.” Mr. Peppington said, adjusting Harry so he could grab Harry’s other arm too.
Vernon grunted, and then walked away.
Mr. Peppington pulled Harry to the car and pushed him into the backseat. The back doors were child locked, so he was unable to escape out the other side. They stayed the night in a gloomy hotel. Mr. Peppington left Harry in the car while he checked in. They ran into no one else between the car and hotel room. Once inside, Mr. Peppington sat Harry down on a chair.
“Now, you’re going to be sticking with me for quite a while. I have some business dealings to deal with in another country and you’ll be coming along with me. You try to tell anyone anything, or try to escape, and it won’t be pretty. You behave and I’ll make sure you’re fed and properly attired. Much better than these rags you have on now.” He wrinkled his nose at Harry’s hand me downs from Dudley. “In fact, I already bought ya a coupla outfits. You’re 10, right?”
Harry nodded hesitantly.
“Good. Might be a bit big on ya, but should be a sight better than you have now.” He handed Harry a set of clothing, tags still attached. There were even new boxers, still in their package. “Go take a shower. You stink. I’ll hit the rest of the rules after.” Mr. Peppington stood and went to the bathroom door. He took a piece of something that looked like gum and stuck it to the side of the lock. He pulled Harry’s backpack off him and then waved Harry into the bathroom. Harry found the door didn’t close all the way and tried not to let it bother him as he turned the water on. It was surprisingly warm. Harry debated switching to the cold water he was used to with the Dursleys, but decided that this man was clearly rich enough to purchase him. So he’d be rich enough to afford hot water. If he couldn’t then, well, Harry would learn his preferred punishments.
After showering and getting dressed, Harry hesitantly exited the bathroom. Mr. Peppington looked him up and down, grunted, and then shoved Harry in the closet. A blanket and pillow had been set on the ground, which were both better quality than those in Harry’s cupboard. Harry sat down without further prompting. Mr. Peppington closed the sliding door, so Harry figured he would be in there overnight. He lay down, and, the second his head touched the pillow, he passed out from exhaustion.
The next morning, before the sun had even risen, Mr. Peppington woke Harry by opening the closet door.
“Here. Gargle this until I tell you to stop.” He told the boy, handing him a yellowish drink.
“Gargle?” Harry repeated.
“Yeah. Swish it around in your mouth. Drink it but don’t swallow.”
Harry hesitantly drank the mixture and tried not to swallow it. It stung and burned, so he kept swishing it around his mouth to try to alleviate the pain. That just spread it to all parts of his mouth. Harry spewed it back into the cup.
Peppington frowned. “Again.”
Harry’s hands shook, but he did as Peppington asked. The mixture wasn’t as bad the second time, but it still burned. He made it longer, but still spit it out before Peppington said. This was repeated several times until Harry was able to swish the mixture around for several minutes. It ended when he accidentally swallowed some and spewed the rest out in all directions. Peppington made a face, but didn’t smack Harry for his impudence.
“Tell me your name.” Peppington said.
Harry tried to answer. He really did. But nothing came out but a rasp. Peppington looked satisfied when Harry started to panic.
“Good. It’s working.” Harry froze at that. “Now. Your new name is Colton Hemsley. Mine is Basil Hemsley. When you gain your voice back, you may refer to me as Basil or Cousin Basil. Your Uncle provided me with a photo of you some time ago before deciding it wasn’t worth the hassle giving you to me would be. I’m not sure what changed his mind, but your passport has been ready for quite a while. We will be leaving for the airport in ten minutes as our flight leaves in an hour and a half . You will not leave my side and will not attempt to speak or tell the airport staff anything. They won’t care anyways. Now, go to the bathroom before we leave. There’s a long flight ahead of us.”
Harry and Peppington, Basil?, arrived at the airport almost an hour before the flight was to depart. Basil checked a bag and then hussled a tired Harry to a store near the gate. He bought a headset, a small coloring book complete with crayons, a normal book, and some snacks from the store and then led Harry by the hand onto the airplane.
Despite the circumstances, Harry marveled at being allowed to hold an adult’s hand.
The airplane people cooed at Harry when they checked their tickets and passports. Harry shrunk away from them and Basil told them that ‘Colton’ was shy. That was apparently all there was to it. In no time, Basil was telling Harry to take the window seat near the middle of the large plane. Basil put both his and Harry’s bags up in a compartment above their seats and then sat down next to Harry, trapping the kid against the window. He shuffled about, got Harry situated and buckled in and put the headset over Harry’s ears, blocking out most of the noise around them. A moment later, he pulled down the tray table and set up the coloring book on it, handing Harry the crayons. Harry stared at them, and then at Basil, and then back at the crayons, and then back at Basil.
“Thank you.” He mouthed.
Basil grunted.
Another fifteen or so minutes later, the plane taxied and took off.
For Harry’s first and likely only flight, it wasn’t so bad. They were a couple airline provided meals, and he got to look out the window and see the ocean for the first time ever. It was dark for most of the flight, and he fell asleep at some point. He even got to color a bit!
They landed in Gotham City after what felt like another day, but was actually apparently still the same day. The sun was high in the sky when they exited the airport with the two other men who came to meet them.
Harry wasn’t sure what his purpose was here. Yes, his Uncle had sold him, but to what end? Basil wasn’t nearly as bad as his relatives. Harry would even dare to say he was better. He gave him three meals a day and let him color. He didn’t do any of the things the teachers always warned them about with stranger danger. He preferred to have Harry where he could see him during the day, and gave him soft things to keep in the closet where Harry slept so that the kid would be comfortable. At first, his only bad quality was that he made Harry gargle that disgusting mixture whenever they were going out into public. Harry got new-ish, fitting clothes. He was even allowed to read some of Basil’s books!
The answer to what was going on came a week after they had settled in to an apartment in Gotham. Basil wanted Harry because of Harry’s freakishness. He handed Harry a lightbulb, and ordered Harry to light it. Harry stared at him, confused.
“Come on, Colton.” Basil said. Basil always called him Colton or brat or some variation of that. Never Harry. Harry wasn’t even sure Basil knew his name, as the man and his companions followed the ‘seen and not heard’ mentality.
When Harry still didn’t light the lightbulb, Basil lunged at him. Harry jumped and the lightbulb momentarily blared, before immediately going out. Basil’s eyes gleamed.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
The next few days, well, they sucked to put it mildly. Basil and his friends never tortured Harry, but they did try to force Harry to use his freakishness. Apparently, his freakishness was a real thing. After some tests, Basil decided Harry must be using magic.
Then, he stabbed Harry in the shoulder and quickly removed the blade.
“Your Uncle said you heal freakishly fast.” He explained as he wrapped a bandage around the wound. “We’ll see if he’s telling the truth.”
Basil locked Harry in the closet and left. He came back a couple hours later with a stack of books and crystals, as well as a couple yarn balls.
“Your Uncle said you could change the color of things, teleport, and shrink and expand stuff. As well as make things disappear for the latest thing. We’re going to try it all.”
And he kept to his word on that. Basil did his best to force Harry to use his freakishness (His his magic???) out of him. The problem was that Harry didn’t know how to do that. And he couldn’t figure out how to tell Basil that, even when his voice returned. Basil figured out Harry was susceptible to jump scares, but he couldn’t control his magic when that happened. And, the more often Basil jump scared Harry, the less effective the technique was. Since Harry went from being sometimes scared to always scared.
Then, then came the overheard conversation that made Harry decide to run away.
“Give it a rest, Bas,” One of the other men, Harry thought his name might be Albert, said.
“Yeah. The kid clearly can’t control it.” The other, Ris?, added.
“I think we just need to give him more time. He’ll figure it out.” Basil said.
Ris sighed. “Look. The circuit is almost ready. Once it is, we can just plug him in and use him as the battery he was meant to be. Whatever the energy or magic or whatnot is, it clearly flows through him. We’ve already established that while he was passed out from exhaustion after a day of trying to do your stupid party tricks.”
“Yeah. Plug him in, keep him fed and oiled and all that jazz. And boom. We’ve got the energy source we need for all our endeavors.” Albert said.
“You shouldn’t be encouraging him to learn how to teleport anyways. That’s a surefire way for him to escape.” Ris said.
“Yeah. Actually, we should get the brat a tracker. Just in case.” Albert added.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Basil said.
“Don’t worry about it, Bas. We’ll be making profit in no time. You’ll see.” Ris assured Basil.
They changed the subject, but Harry was left reeling at what had been revealed.
The next day, during their experiments (mostly ways to startle Harry into emotions) that Basil called lessons, Harry slowly inched towards the door. When he managed to get close enough, and Basil wasn’t paying him as close attention, Harry unlocked the door and ran for it.
“What’s going on here?” A voice called from behind them as Harry’s captors adjusted Harry in their grasp.
All three turned so fast it made Harry yelp and shock Basil.
Albert let loose a quiet but long string of curses while Basil tensed and tightened his grip on Harry and Ris not at all subtly reached for a weapon.
The speaker was between them and the alley’s exit. A tall, big man with a helmet the color of blood stood in the shadows, stance faux relaxed, ready for a fight.
“Nothing, Mr. Hood. We were just saving my little cousin. He gets lost in his own head sometimes and then lost on the streets. You know how it is with them kids. Can’t take your eyes off them for a second.”
“I do.” Mr. Hood answered slowly. His voice sounded raspy from behind the mask. “Is that the case, kid?”
It took Harry a second to realize Mr. Hood was asking him. He didn’t know the right answer. Yes? No? Mr. Hood looked like he could kill Harry without any effort. And if even Harry’s captors were afraid of him…
Harry didn’t know the right answer and didn’t want to anger any of the people there further. So he didn’t answer. Just stayed frozen, if you ignored that his whole body was trembling.
“Right…” Mr. Hood continued in his raspy voice. That sounded painful. He should drink some water. “Your… cousin, you said? What’s his name?”
“Colton.” Basil answered, without hesitation.
“Colton.” Mr. Hood repeated. He turned his helmet down to look at Harry. “Colton, buddy, where are your shoes?”
Harry stared at Mr. Hood. And then down at his bare feet, squirming in Basil’s grip so he could look. They were super red and cut up and now that he was looking, they really hurt.
“He left them at home.” Basil said. Mr. Hood was still staring at Harry, but Harry thought he might have glanced up for a second. Mr. Hood straightened and nodded to himself.
“Sorry for the scare. Do you mind if I treat the kiddo’s feet to make it up to you guys?”
Harry’s captors exchanged glances, but didn’t seem to have a clear answer for him. Mr. Hood seemed to take that as a yes, as he then asked Harry.
“Colton, buddy, can I take a look at your feet, please? It might sting a bit but it will make them better in the long run.”
Harry looked up at Basil for an answer. Basil tried to subtly shake his head. Harry looked back at Mr. Hood. And gave a little nod.
“Awesome.” Mr. Hood seemed to relax a bit. He looked around and spotted something. A crate?
“Here. Set him down on this.” Mr. Hood said. He started pulling medical stuff from his pockets.
Basil reluctantly set Harry down on the crate. Mr. Hood knelt down in front of Harry and took one of his Harry’s feet. He took a look at it and winced. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and got to work. Harry switched between watching Mr. Hood as he worked, looking at his other foot, and looking up at his captors.
All three looked uneasy. Basil was watching intently and Ris was pacing. Albert had casually taken a position between Harry and Mr. Hood and the mouth of the alley.
Mr. Hood meticulously picked bits of debris out of Harry’s feet, occasionally squirting some a clear liquid on them to wash out the wounds so he could see them better. After a long time, he finished with the tweezers, cleaned Harry’s foot once more, smoothered it with cream, and wrapped it up. Then, he started on the other foot.
Harry examined the cloth wrapped foot with curiosity, leaning in and pulling it up to see it better. This brought him closer to Mr. Hood’s helmet.
“These really your folks?” Mr. Hood asked, so quietly Harry wasn’t even sure he heard him right.
“No.” Harry whispered. “Don’t got any.”
Mr. Hood hummed. He brushed the side of his helmet. “Oracle. Got a kid here. Three men claiming he’s their cousin. Kid says he doesn’t have family.” He whispered so quietly Harry could barely hear him. He wasn’t sure if Harry’s captors could, but signs pointed to no.
“Do you want help getting away from them?” Mr. Hood asked Harry, only slightly louder than he spoke the previous statement to whoever he was talking to (it clearly wasn’t Harry.)
Harry hesitated and looked up at his captors. Basil had been somewhat kind to him. Especially compared to his relatives. There were the jump scares. But Harry could deal with those. But. Things were escalating. And there had been the overheard conversation and the fact Basil bought him from his Uncle in the first place. And Harry was scared of Ris and Albert, even if they hadn’t hurt him yet.
But then, he didn’t know Mr. Hood at all. What if Mr. Hood was worse? He was being really gentle with Harry’s feet, but that was a sign of practice more than anything. And he had guns. Guns were scary.
Still. One person would be easier to escape from than three.
Harry looked back at Mr. Hood and gave a slight nod.
Mr. Hood didn’t acknowledge it beyond a hum. He finished picking things from Harry’s foot and began cleaning it.
Despite the situation, Harry felt himself calming into a lull. He felt tired. Exhausted really. It had been a long few days. Weeks? He leaned forward, and the world went black.
Jason forced himself not to startle when a small head thumped against his shoulder. The little boy who he’d been patching up had gone worryingly limp. Jason frowned and looked down at the kid’s feet again. There was a worrying amount of blood still soaking into the bandages. And he was betting the kid, Colton supposedly, was running low on adrenaline.
But still. The fact Colton had passed out was worrying. Especially after telling Jason these weren’t his folks and he wanted help getting away. Jason frowned harder, and jabbed a button to make it so those outside couldn’t hear him. “Oracle?”
“No hits yet.” Babs told him. “I’m still searching. He’s not in missing persons. Is he an alley kid?”
“Didn’t sound it. At least, not one who’s been out recently.” Jason said. “He doesn’t seem to recognize me. As Red Hood, I mean.”
“Could be isolated. Or from outside the city. I’ll check bus stations, train stations, and airports.”
“Do so. I’ll see if I can take him to Leslie’s. Some of these cuts on his feet are deep. I want her to take a better look. Make sure nothing’s broken and there’s no hidden injuries.”
“I’ll send her a heads up for a Code Jay-Stork.”
“Please stop calling it that.”
“Never. It’s adorable.”
Jason scowled and knotted the bandage tightly. Colton was worryingly pale. He finished up and cleaned up his supplies quickly.
One of the guys who’d been chasing after Colton stepped forward.
“Alright. You treated his feet. Thank you. Give him back now.”
Jason resisted the urge to scoff. He hefted Colton into his arms and turned to the three men.
“He needs a doctor. The free clinic’s around the corner. Or I can take him to a hospital. But he needs one urgently.”
They looked disgruntled, but a glance at Colton’s slack, pale face seemed to decide them.
“Clinic. Can’t afford the fancy doctors.”
Jason jerked a nod, and then took off quickly. Maybe he shouldn’t have told the men where he was going. But Leslie would never let them just kidnap the kid so.
Legal way it was. Hopefully there’d be something obvious they could use to get the kid into a safe home.