Chapter Text
It’s raining, pouring down hard enough that Duke's own vision blurs with the pitter patter of the drops. Even the small alleyway awning isn't doing shit really to keep him dry, and he lets out a bitter laugh. He must look insane. He knows his nose is definitely broken and there’s a bruise forming on his face from talking a little too reckless at his new placement. But it was all good, he’d given as much as he got.
He didn't use to fight this. His Ma had always been against excessive violence. And the thought sends tears down his face that he doesn't even try to wipe away. Between all the rain you couldn't tell anyway. He glances down at his already bruised hand and tries to flex his fist and winces. Fuck he might have broken his knuckles too. The cold really wasn't helping.
He shouldn't be out here, He should be in bed, in his newest placement, that he refuses to call a home. But he doesn't feel like sucking up to no one today or getting another bruise on his face. Plus he had no intention of dealing with the fucked up staff there, who he’d seen take advantage of some of the kids and left right after. No, he was better off on his own. Better to die on your feet than on your knees than what his dad had always said. It's only been two days and still somehow, he knows this is better than going back…
He places his backpack on his lap and then leans into the fabric shielding his face from the worst of the weather and bites back a shiver. He wishes more than anything he could go to Izzy's or Riko's just for the night. But Riko’s grounded and Izzy’s parents would send his ass right back to the home. He shudders and clenches his teeth; it shouldn't be this cold in February. It shouldn't be this cold ever… he curls against the backpack just a little bit tighter and it feels a bit pathetic and childish, but he can’t bring himself to care.
He just has to get through this rainstorm. Then he can go back out and search for his parents. Maybe go down to the sewers even. He’s already mentally memorized the layout for Eastern Gotham. Maybe he can go there. Start at the top and work way back down. He just needs to stay focused. He can feel his toes going numb.
Just a few more hours than a laundromat would open and he can throw his spare clothes in, where he can sit in the warmth for just a little bit before the library opens and he can print a few more maps out. So he can find his family.
He just has to make it past this storm. He just has to survive.
He hadn't even heard the footsteps approach, but the gritty voice snaps his attention and when he looks up the red fucking hood is standing over him. He jumps back half startled and lets out an embarrassing yelp.
“Hey kid”
His head tilts at the words and for some reason the first thing that crosses his mind is that the gesture is oddly bird-like for someone built like a linebacker.
He knows the stories about Red Hood. Honestly Duke would be more surprised if everyone in Gotham didn't know. Knew about the heads he’d sent to GCPD but he’d also known that it was because of the man that kids aren't used as drug mules anymore at least not in Crime Alley and the Narrows.
“What do you want” Duke bites out, because he’s still from Gotham, because at the end of the day he trusts these masked heroes about as much as he can throw them. The Red Hood is less than others. At least he had the solace that however fickle the Bat might be on his everyday promises the man at least wouldn't put him in a body bag.
“Nothing, here” Red’s reply is clipped and short before reaching into a small duffle bag on his shoulder and Duke fights the urge to take off running. Then he pulls out a poncho, a red tarp looking thing and some hand warmers along with a few granola bars. And Duke reaches out to take them because he’d be stupid to refuse the help right now. Even if he could feel his heart pounding and he can't take his eyes off the sheer amount of guns on the Red Hood's body.
Duke figures the look must show because Hood squats down eye level and for a moment Duke can’t stop thinking how odd it is for a man who kills so easily to be here, making himself smaller because he’s terrified.
He places his hands up in a gesture of surrender, before speaking and the voice sounds gritty through the mask. But somehow softer all the same. Duke forces his gaze away from the guns. He’d never seen the mask up close, just the grainy video feed from the news or something Dax showed them. It looks sharper, more dangerous and far scarier in person.
“Look I ain't going to try to convince you to go back home, your face is pretty fucked up I imagine that’s why you're out here in the first place. You see the red tarp” he pauses and Duke takes it as a sign to nod in agreement.
“Good, it’s waterproof, and it’s red because it’s mine, means anyone who sees you with it, will leave you alone or risk dealing with me”.
Duke has to force his eyes not to trail back over to the onslaught of guns again. He doesn't think he wants to know what that looks like. But he feverishly nods along anyway.
“Find an area between two dumpsters but stay in the Crime Alley, I don't have jurisdiction anywhere else in Gotham, put the tarp in between them and it'll make you a small canopy. Use the hand warmers on your chest and your head and put the smaller ones in your socks and gloves. It'll keep you from early onset hypothermia and pneumonia, and should last about 16 hours but they're rechargeable, got it?”.
“Ok.” he mutters out, still a bit in shock about the whole situation, but clutching the supplies tight to his chest. As he watches the man stand back up. And because his ma had raised him with manners he calls out
“Thank you” his voice sounds hoarse even to himself and he wonders if it’s from the rain or from the tears.
“You stay safe, and dry” the Red Hood calls and then he’s walking back down the alleyway, and Duke is left whirling, with the supplies in hand. Because what just happened, there was no way the Red Hood just came here to give him what. Supplies so he didn't freeze to death. How had he known he was there? There had been rumors of course about the Red Hood protecting Gotham's kids. The street trash even more so, but still. He doesn't know why the thought of the tarp brings tears to his eye, but he clutches it tighter to his chest. He’d told him to leave for Crime Alley, he’d always considered the Narrows and Alley as one, but apparently vigilantes had maps and routes to patrol. Who knew? And if the Narrows was decidedly out of Hood's territory, then maybe, just for the night. He’d crash in Park Row.
He gets up squeezing the leftover water from his hoodie then throws everything into his backpack before taking off. The alley wasn't far, maybe a 15-minute walk. And while he still isn't sure exactly how much protection the red tarp can offer, it’s a step up from a windy awning.
It takes him 10 minutes to walk and another 15 to actually find a spot concealed enough for him to hide in. The rain hasn't let up but the poncho helps keep most of the water off him. It’s a nice change. And between the red canopy and hand warmers for a moment he won't think about the mask and how Batman is MIA when his parents need him the most, or where his next meal is coming from. He’ll fall asleep to warmth and red.