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Rain ran down the sides of the buildings in a constant stream, little rivers that bridged the distance between the overcast sky and the dingy streets. It would’ve been a beautiful thought, if it hadn’t been so damn dreary .
Arthur had really, truly, never seen such a horrible city.
Not that he’d ever been a real big fan of cities to begin with - the press of crowds on every side, all the noise and bustle that was fine at first but then started to grate on his ears. It was easy to find what he needed in big cities, with just about a hundred stores to choose from, but that was the kindest thing he had to say on the matter. He’d choose untamed wilderness over cobbled streets, any day of the weeks.
Like that mountain-
A noise straight from the depths of Hell tore him away from that train of thought. He clutched onto his saddle and swore, Carnation startling badly at the noise and damn near throwing him.
“Easy, girl, easy!” Arthur cried, one hand flying to his hat as a sudden wind threatened to carry it away. His horse whinnied shrilly, prancing nervously to the side as Arthur tried in vain to calm her. The godawful noise came again.
“The hell is wrong with you?!” He yelled over his shoulder, at the metal thing trundling along the street behind him. “I ain’t hurtin’ no one! Let a man ride, damn it!”
“Get off the fucking road!” The man in the contraption yelled back. A string of decidedly uncomplimentary language followed, and Arthur tipped his face back in the rain, taking a deep breath.
Do not get off your horse. Do not punch that damn Yankee in the teeth. Don’t even think about it, Arthur, I’m serious -
That damn noise nearly startled him straight out of his saddle, this time. Carnation was far less than pleased, hopping in place and shrieking. Arthur groaned, jamming his hat low on his head.
“Fine!” He yelled. “Fine! You want me off the road, I’ll get off the damn road. And it’s on you if the law takes issue with me bein’ on the sidewalk!”
After a short moment, he’d calmed Carnation enough to move her onto the sidewalk. Not that there weren’t any issues with that. Despite the overcast day and the cold, biting wind, there was a decent crowd on the narrow sidewalk. A good portion of them scrambled to give him room when he moved to leave the road, but a few were apparently determined to get kicked in the family jewels by a spooked horse.
“‘Scuse me, ma’am, but it’s not really safe to walk that close behind -”
“That a threat?”
“No, ma’am, it is not, I’m just sayin’ my horse isn’t too happy about it.”
“I don’t give a shit about your horse.”
Arthur sighed raggedly, urging Carnation a few steps ahead just to get the woman out of immediate danger. He immediately reined the horse back in, keeping some distance between him and the people walking just ahead. Between the crowded sidewalk and the metal contraptions roaring down the road, he didn’t have too much room to ride.
This is why I hate cities. How did I even get here?
And wasn’t that the question of the day? The last thing he remembered before being here was - the mountain. The Mountain, because he couldn’t remember the name of the damn thing and he felt it deserved some sort of weight and significance. He could remember laying down on the cool, dewy grass, the rattle of his breath as it snagged in his chest and he just didn’t have the strength to cough anymore-
Something tapped his thigh, quick and light. He jerked, looking up to see a young man watching him nervously.
“You alright, man?” he asked, concerned but still very obviously uncomfortable speaking to Arthur.
Arthur hadn’t even realized Carnation had stopped. He shook himself firmly.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m good. Just a lil lost in my thoughts.” He smiled slightly. “Thank you for your concern, though. Hey, uh, any chance you could tell me where I am?”
No matter who he asked, Arthur couldn’t seem to get an actual answer. He got a lot of partial answers, sure. For starters, he was in a city called Gotham, and a whole lot of people encouraged him to get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. For another, he was on the eastern seaboard, and he wanted to get the hell out of dodge, as quickly as possible . Unfortunately, the world apparently wanted to make him work for it.
Arthur very much wanted to scream as he looked out over the waves. It didn’t even have the decency to be an inviting ocean. It was all dark water and frothing foam, only a scant few boats braving the rough waves as the storm continued.
In the distance, he could vaguely see the mainland. Way too far to swim. Well, damn.
With a bitten-back curse, he turned his back on the waves. There had to be someone who could help him get his bearings. He just had to keep looking.
Looking turned out to be a bad idea.
“Now see here,” Arthur called, one hand on his pistol as Carnation shuffled uneasily. “I ain’t causin’ no trouble. I’m just a bit lost, and I’m tryin’ to get my footing. If y’all’d be so kind as to let me by, I’ll be on my way.”
He’d just gotten a little loud with someone at a fish market, because the fool couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself and was being a menace. And now someone had gone and called the Law .
A couple of the metal contraptions had arrived outside the fish market, flashing lights mounted on top of them. Damn bright lights - Arthur winced whenever he made the mistake of looking at them. Even when he was careful not to look straight at them, it was hard to see past the pulses of blue and red. Four lawmen had arrived with the damn things, and after seeing him had taken cover behind their vehicles.
Really, was it so damn hard for people in this city to be friendly? Arthur hadn’t done anything to warrant this. He just wanted out of here , damn it!
“What you’re going to do is get off the horse and put the gun on the ground,” one of the lawmen yelled back.
“You take your guns off of me, first!” Arthur said. “Damn it, I don’t have time for this shit!”
“Well, you’re going to make time! Off the horse, now!”
Arthur swore. The very last thing he needed was to be brought in by the Law. For one, they’d have questions , and he didn’t feel too well equipped to answer them right now. For another, for all he knew, he wouldn’t be walking out again if they got him. As far as he’d heard, the North wasn’t exactly hospitable towards outlaws. And whatever corner of the North he’d found himself in was even crazier than any story he’d ever heard.
The crowd that had previously been on the street was long gone, having cleared out or taken cover when the Law showed up. That wasn’t promising, but it did potentially make it easier to run. It was only him and the lawmen, with about a hundred feet of empty road on either side and a few dingy alleys interspersed through the buildings.
“Well, gentlemen, sorry to have wasted your time, but - hah !” Arthur dug his heels into Carnation’s flank and the horse sprang forward, leaping into a gallop within a few strides. The lawmen cursed and scrambled out of the way, letting Arthur fly past their half-hearted barricade.
He was suddenly, starkly reminded that it was hell trying to ride fast in tight spaces. He bent low to Carnation’s neck as he urged her around a corner, gunfire erupting behind him. Pain lanced through his shoulder, and he clung tighter to the reins.
Every instinct he had screamed for him to draw his pistol, but he forced his hands away from the holster. He was alone, and now injured, in an unfamiliar place, in weird as shit circumstances. Starting a gunfight ( reciprocating a gunfight ) would be the opposite of a good idea , currently.
So, instead, he spurred Carnation on, barreling through the streets and alleyways while forcing the pain in his shoulder to the back of his mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and, he thought grimly, it very likely wouldn’t be the last.
Damn it, why couldn’t his life be simple ? He was done with this outlaw shit! Why did it keep following him ?!
At long last, he’d made enough turns and covered enough ground that he felt secure in having escaped. Just in time, too - poor Carnation was covered in lather, breathing hard, and his heart ached for the poor girl. As much as he loved riding fast, he hated the toll long distances always took on his horses.
“Sorry ‘bout that, girl,” he grunted, swinging his leg over the saddle and going to jump down. His shoulder twinged painfully, and instead of landing on his feet, he found himself sitting in a puddle.
Carnation swung her head around, big doe eyes looking at him with what he’d like to think was confusion. Arthur chuckled, a bit breathless. He raised his uninjured arm to pat her nose. “I’m alright. Had worse. I just need to catch my breath for a minute.”
Carnation huffed, seemingly satisfied, and ambled a few steps away to nose at some weeds poking through the stone.
Arthur huffed and lowered himself to the ground. “Jus’ a few more minutes. Then we’ll go find a doctor. Damn, knew I should’ve bought my own med kit…”
Three hours later Arthur was on the run once again.
“Never in my life have I seen somethin’ so disgraceful,” Arthur spat, gesturing angrily. “I come in with a gunshot in my shoulder - not exactly somethin’ to be calm about, granted, but not somethin’ that warrants five-thousand dollars to treat! Or gettin’ the law involved!”
“I hear you, I hear you,” his new friend muttered, daubing some kind of disinfectant on Arthur’s shoulder. “There’s a few clinics in the city that focus on helping, first and foremost, but they don’t tend to be in this part of town. It’s ridiculous.”
“You’re tellin’ me!” Arthur cried.
“Hey hey hey, sit still, I need to get this cleaned up,” his friend said. He wasn’t all that well off, that much Arthur could tell by looking at him. Dirty clothes, not too well-fed, and he’d damn near just run off when Arthur staggered into this alleyway a half hour earlier, bleeding and swearing.
His fear had slowly ebbed away, thankfully, and Arthur was getting someone sane to look at his shoulder.
“Looks like the bullet went straight through,” he informed Arthur. “As far as I can tell, anyway. You, uh…it probably needs stitches, but I don’t…”
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Arthur replied. “I’ll wrap it up tight enough to do the job. I appreciate you helpin’ me clean it up.”
“Yeah…yeah, no problem. You gonna be good?”
“Well…would you mind helpin’ a man get his bearings? I’m a little lost around here.”
Arthur shrugged his jacket back on, grimacing at the bloodstain across his left shoulder. It was a damn good jacket, while it lasted.
“Sure, man, whatever you want to know.” He froze for a split second, looking a little spooked. “...Within reason.”
Arthur laughed. “I ain’t gonna pry any secrets out of you, boy. Just some basic stuff that this old man is too slow to catch for himself. For starters - how far are we from Saint Denis?”
“From…where?”
“Well, that ain’t promisin’.” Arthur sighed, stretching and shuffling to lean against the wall of the alley. “It’s south, on the Gulf coast. Biggest city ‘round those parts.”
“I’ve never heard of it. We’re pretty far from the Gulf of Mexico, though. You could probably make it in, I don’t know, maybe a few days? By car. By horse…” he glanced at Carnation, who was nosing through a heap of trash despite Arthur’s scolding. “Probably longer. Weeks, maybe.”
“Shit,” Arthur muttered. “Well, since I’m not exactly equipped for that trip at the moment, how about places to stock up? I’ve got a tent, but what about food? Ammo? Horse supplies?”
“Uh…” the man thought for a moment. “Food’s easy. Gas stations, pharmacies, dollar stores, grocery stores. Dollar store might be better if you’re tight on cash. Stuff for the horse - fuck, you may have better luck in the north part of town. Rich idiots, and they’re the only ones who could afford to keep a horse in this city - no offense to you,” he said hurriedly. “For ammo, there’s gun shops, but…”
“But what, boy?”
“You really expecting that much trouble wherever you’re going?” The boy fidgeted, like he thought he’d crossed a line. Arthur barked a laugh.
“I’d prefer if I didn’t, and honestly I’m hopin’ for it, but you’ve always got to be prepared. Now, since this entire city has lost its damn mind and wants to charge eight dollars for a sandwich - you know where a man can get some work? I’ve got forty cents in my pocket and a hungry animal to feed.”
“Uh…yeah. Probably? I try to steer clear of that sort of thing, but I could point you in the right direction.”
“Much appreciated, son.”
“God damn , what’s the matter with y’all?” Arthur yelled, leaning low against Carnation’s neck as he spurred her on. Gunfire erupted behind him and he ducked even lower, minimizing the chance of yet another bullet in his back. He only had to worry for the space of a few breaths, before he had the chance to drive Carnation around a corner, and therefore out of the shooters’ sights.
Arthur huffed, straightening up slowly, just to make sure no extra bullets were flying his way. Never, never in his life had he been shot at so much in such a short period of time - well, without instigating at least some of it. But, over the past two days, he’d only returned fire once , while he was retreating.
It felt cowardly, running scared like that when he was armed. But at the same time, good Lord above, the people in this city had lost their damned minds.
Nearly twenty dollars for ammo . He’d never seen something so ridiculous in his life. He’d probably never looked so ridiculous in his life, standing in the gun shop with his jaw hanging open like his brain had just fallen out and rolled through the door. In a fit of desperation, he’d asked about bows, just in case the pricing was better. He wasn’t an archer, not by a long shot, but he knew his way around a bow and arrow well enough to get by.
Six dollars an arrow was his answer, and a bow was so incredibly high that he wouldn’t be able to afford it anyway, even with the pay from his first couple of jobs.
So, frustrated and despairing, Arthur had decided he wouldn’t be returning any fire unless he had no other way out. Twenty-one bullets for the pistol, and twelve shotgun shells. He doubted it would be enough to get him through even one serious gunfight, not unless he shot better than he ever had in his life.
Luckily, he had a good damn horse.
Did he feel a little guilty over exactly how he’d acquired Carnation? Sure, sure, but he also wasn’t the idiot who mouthed off so bad at someone who clearly lacked a horse. The man had been a hateful bastard, and his horse really was nice, and Arthur’s feet hurt .
It’s not like he killed the bastard. Just knocked him around a little and left him to make his own way back to town.
In any case, Carnation was a damn boon in this city. Back home, she’d been real handy to have around, too. Missouri Fox Trotters in general were speedy animals, and agile too, but Carnation in particular was just exceptional. Arthur could guarantee that if he’d just gotten another horse, he’d probably have ended up smeared across a wall or shot by now.
The alleyway they’d swerved into was nice and empty, which wasn’t always the case. There’d been a couple times now where he’d had to whip around and fly out the way he came, bullets flying behind him or people chasing him with clubs and pipes. There’d also been a few times where the alley had been inhabited by some poor down-on-their-luck sods, and he’d had to haul back on the reins to keep from trampling them.
This one, though, was blissfully free of other people. Arthur didn’t exactly let himself relax, but he breathed a bit easier and let Carnation amble along at her own pace as she caught her breath.
She was a good horse. A calm, smart horse, even if only for him and a select few others.
The alleyway was also very damp, and like many places in the city the air was practically drinkable for how humid it was. Cold, too. As he rode along, Arthur’s breath came out with a rasp.
He froze, dropping the reins and barely keeping from keeling over and out of the saddle.
Cool morning dew on his skin, so much pain, his breath rattling in his chest, getting harder to draw in-
No. No. No. He pawed at his chest, as if he could reach past the layers of cloth and beaten leather to stifle the phantom pain in his lungs. He was still in the alleyway, still in Gotham, he knew that - but all he could see was the sunrise, the vague memory of acceptance -
He died, and he ended up here. That didn’t mean he wasn’t sick anymore, did it? No - no, he hadn’t died. That was - absolutely insane. Dead men didn’t come back to life. He was just missing a few pieces of the puzzle. Maybe he’d just - gotten worse, lost some time, missed whatever insanity led him to Gotham.
The tuberculosis was still there, because it obviously hadn’t killed him if he was still running around, and he wasn’t sure if that thought was any better. It was less likely to send him spiraling into insanity, though, so he grabbed onto it with both hands.
There was no mountain, no dew on his skin, and no painful, final breath watching the sunrise.
And Micah? Dutch? What about them? What about-
“Shit,” Arthur muttered, holding his head in his hands. His voice bounced off of the alley walls, muffled by the rainwater that ran down from the roof. “ Shit .”
If there was no mountain, then none of that had happened either. And that was just too much to throw away.
He looked closer at his hands, dirt-smudged and calloused, as if he could see the skin beginning to slough off, the meat rotting off of them.
He didn’t. He wasn’t sure that was reassuring.
Carnation was nearing the end of the alley, though, and Arthur still had a delivery to make. And it didn’t matter that much at the end of the day, did it? Whatever had happened on that mountain, Arthur still drew breath, was still a living, flesh-and-blood man, and still had a good horse under him and a pistol on his hip.
So he forced that fear to the back of his mind and spurred Carnation on, cantering down the narrow street they emerged onto.
A shadow followed along the rooftops.
It only took another few turns to reach his destination, and there was a blissful lack of gunfire for that last mile or so stretch. The brisk evening air even chased away the ghost of painful coughs that still lingered in Arthur’s chest, and by the time he pulled Carnation to a stop he’d managed to pull himself all the way back together. Riding always seemed to do that. Not a problem in the world that a few miles and a horse couldn’t solve, in his opinion.
The man that had been described to him was waiting near a streetlight, just far enough out of the glow to be indistinct but near enough to be seen. The location matched up, too - no one in this city sold damn paper maps, so far as Arthur had been able to find, so he’d had to work off of directions he’d been given. That and landmarks. He’d passed that one coffee shop about a quarter-mile and one left turn ago, so he figured it was safe to assume he’d gotten it right.
It also helped that Arthur himself was distinct. No one in this ass-backwards city rode horses, apparently, instead either just walking or riding in those metal contraptions. He’d barely pulled Carnation to a stop when the man started towards him.
“Those idiots weren’t joking,” he said in a wondering tone. “Y’know, I’ve seen a lot of people’s shticks, the shit they’ll do to make themselves stand out. But a fucking cowboy?” He whistled. “You’ve got balls, man.”
Arthur dismounted, laughing as he did. “To me, y’all are the weird ones. Now, you’re expectin’ a delivery?”
“Yeah,” the man replied, demeanor going hard in an instant. “You got it here for me?”
“Sure do,” Arthur unbuckled one of his saddlebags, removing an innocuous paper package from it. He tossed it to the man. “It’s all there, on my word. And I sure hope it helps.”
The man looked at him strangely - fair enough, it seemed like goodwill was a bit hard to come by in these parts - but nodded. He took a wad of folded bills from his pocket and tossed them to Arthur.
“ That’s all there, too,” the man said. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Arthur nodded. “You have a nice evenin’, you hear?”
“Yeah…yeah, whatever, man.”
The man disappeared into the shadows quickly, like he expected to be chased. Arthur sighed and shook his head. It was a damn shame when people had to go to these lengths to get medicine for a reasonable sum. For God’s sake, it was just cocaine, but each delivery he did insisted it be handled like gold.
Still, it felt good to lend a hand. The doctors in these parts charged like hell, and Arthur winced at the thought of just what they’d ask for helping some poor little kid’s cough, if they’d wanted five thousand from him for a patch job. It was a balm on his conscience, too, to be doing something good. Really, he couldn’t be much better than running medicine to those in need, now, could he?
He leaned up on the lightpost beside Carnation, counting through his pay. Over a hundred dollars in total - most of it would go back to his employer, but he could keep twenty-five percent for the delivery job. He quickly sorted out his portion of the pay, tucking it into a pocket on his vest before stowing the rest in a saddlebag.
He was just about to mount back up, eager to wrap up the job and get some dinner, when there was the telltale sound of a gun being cocked behind him.
Shit .
Arthur froze, both hands on the saddle. The road was completely silent aside from Carnation’s huffing breath and the occasional clop of her hooves as she shifted. Still, that sound had been unmistakable, and loud , and Arthur knew better than to make any sudden moves. The only question was when to stop playing nice and put the sorry bastard down.
Twenty-one bullets and twelve shotgun shells . Make ‘em count .
“Hands up. Turn around. Slowly.” A voice ordered. Weird damn voice, too, all warped and wobbly, almost like nails against stone. Arthur took a deep breath, raised his hands above his shoulders, and turned.
A man stood only a few feet from him. A different one than before, because he damn sure would’ve noticed if the guy he’d just delivered medicine to was wearing a damn red helmet that covered his whole face.
He also had a gun on Arthur, as expected. Some kind of pistol with a blocky body, all dark, matte metal like it was designed to escape notice. It looked ugly as sin to Arthur, but he wasn’t exactly in the position to talk shit about the man’s weapon.
So he stayed silent, calculating. He could just duck and run, and that would give him time to draw his own pistol and hopefully not dip too much into his ammo supply. Then again, the man would definitely fire, and Arthur could feel Carnation’s warmth on his back. She’d be the next in the line of fire if he moved, so he shelved that idea.
Next up, good old-fashioned diplomacy.
“Now son, if you’d feel up to puttin’ down the gun we could just have a little chat-”
“Shut it,” the man snapped. His eyes weren’t visible, but his head moved just a little - looking Arthur over, sizing him up. Arthur allowed it. Sizing up wasn’t shooting. “I have questions.”
“Me too, if I’m bein’ honest,” Arthur drawled. “People here sure seem to love pullin’ guns on me for no damn reason .”
It was muffled by the helmet, but Arthur swore he heard a chuckle. Not a friendly-sounding chuckle either. He re-evaluated how quickly he could draw his pistol.
“Well, when you run drugs , you tend to run into other people who don’t exactly play by the law. And as for the reason …” he took a step closer. “In my case, I don’t like competition. So what’s going to happen, cowboy, is that you’re either going to tell me who your boss is and where to find them, or you die tonight.”
“Bold words from a man who won’t even show his face,” Arthur sneered. “I’m trying to help , seein’ as doctors in this city don’t seem to give a damn. And I ain’t gonna let some coward in a funny hat get in the way of that.”
Arthur expected a bullet. He really did. He was braced for the pain, and then he would move, draw his pistol and fire. Instead, the muzzle of the man’s gun dipped.
“Why the hell would you think you’re helping?” He demanded, and damn, it sounded like Arthur had actually thrown him off. “Did they not tell you what you were getting into? You’re running drugs. That was cocaine .”
“I know full damn well what I’m doin’!” Arthur insisted, offended. The nerve of this idiot, acting like he didn’t know anything! “Y’all’s hospitals charge so damn much, it’s no wonder people are gettin’ their medicine by less legitimate means! Now you tell me, are you really so damn heartless as to turn folks just tryin’ to get by into a money-makin’ scheme? Competition ?”
“ Medicine ?!” the man shouted, his gun now fully off of Arthur as he waved his hands angrily. “It’s fucking cocaine ! In what world is cocaine medicine?!”
“In what world is it not medicine?” Arthur yelled back. “It’s good for pain, dipshit! Like the goddamn headache I’m gettin’ from you!”
The man stared at him for a moment, impossible to read under the helmet. “You actually believe that,” he said, disbelievingly. “Holy shit, you actually believe what you’re saying.”
Arthur crossed his arms. “Yeah, I damn well believe that I’m helpin’ these folks out by gettin’ medicine to them when otherwise they might not be able to afford it.”
“It’s not -” the man shook his head. “You’re insane. Where the hell did they even find you?”
“I found them, cause I want out of this hellhole and for that, I apparently need an exorbitant sum.” Arthur replied.
“How much are we talking?” The man asked, suddenly much more interested in interrogating Arthur than shooting him. The gun was still in his hand, but largely forgotten. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Depends on what you call trouble, ” Arthur said. “The facts are, I didn’t mean to come to this city, and I don’t want to be here anymore, but it’s damn expensive to even exist here, let alone stock up for the trip home!”
“If you want out,” the man said slowly, as though measuring his words, trying not to piss Arthur off any more, “then I know people who can help you.”
“I don’t want a damn handout,” Arthur bit back. “I can damn well fend for myself, so long as some folks just leave me be!”
“Alright, how about this,” the man countered. “The people you’re working for? I guarantee they aren’t as good as you think. So, come work for me.” He holstered his gun, seemingly deciding Arthur wasn’t a threat. “I’m not perfect, but I’m better than they are. And I can pay you more.”
Arthur looked him over, searching for any kind of deceit. Difficult, when he insisted on wearing that damn helmet. Confusing as shit too, since he was apparently convinced that cocaine was harmful or something. And turning on his employers…
Arthur frowned. The extra money was tempting, to be sure. The sooner he could get out of here... “Loyalty’s real important to me. I want proof, first. Proof that they’re bad folks. Then we can talk.”
The man nodded. “Easy enough. I make it my business to know who’s operating in my city. So, I don’t know your boss’s name yet , but I definitely know what he’s done.”
Murder. Theft. Kidnapping. Arthur was pacing back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was an idiot. An idiot and a fool. Regardless of whether they were doing good by distributing medicine, his employers were monsters behind the scenes.
“Alright,” he said, stopping abruptly and turning to face the man in the helmet. “You’ve got a deal. I’ll work for you, for now ,” he emphasized. Regardless of how bad his previous employers were, this one had still started off their relationship by holding him at gunpoint. “So long as I’m still helpin’ folks.”
“Helping,” the man said thoughtfully. “Yeah. That can be arranged.”
“Good,” Arthur nodded. He held out a hand. “Arthur Morgan. Pleasure to meet you.”
The man looked at his hand for a moment, then reached out and took it. “Call me Red Hood.”
“I’ll call you dramatic, how about that?”
Two weeks in this city, and I’m no closer to leaving than I was when I got here. It’s damn pitiful, is what it is.
Red’s been good to me, though. Ain’t running cocaine anymore - and wasn’t that a conversation and a half. But he’s got me delivering medication to folks. Stuff they’d actually get from a doctor around here, cause it looks like I was right on them charging an arm and a leg for simple things. I get good pay for it, and I get to see folks’ faces light up when I make the delivery.
Eating’s expensive, though. For me and for Carnation. If I want to eat anything that isn’t canned, it costs about three times more. Carnation’s feed has to come from this tack store in the north part of the city, and it’s damn near forty dollars for the good stuff.
Poor Carnation. She’s gonna need re-shoeing soon, and I ain’t found anyone that’ll do it. Don’t even want to think what they’ll charge.
Least I don’t need to worry about living arrangements. Found some nice gentlemen willing to let me set up camp with them. They know their way around the city, too. They’ve been real helpful.
Red gave me the night off. Said he ain’t got no deliveries for me tonight, and that I look like I need the rest, anyway. Damn kid.
So, here I am. Warmed up some beans on the fire, ate my dinner, and now I’m sitting here looking up at a sky with no stars. Damn shame how the light in cities seems to do that. And there’s hardly anything green or growing in this little alley.
But there’s this little clump of dandelions growing through a crack in the pavement by my tent. No matter how gloomy or inhospitable this place is, they’re managing to make their way. Maybe I’m just getting old, but it’s a bit inspirational-
Crash!
Arthur’s pen skidded across the page as he jumped, spinning towards the sound. He snapped the journal shut and put it on the ground, cursing as he hurried towards the crumpled remains of his tent.
Something - some one - stirred in the wreckage. A masked boy popped his head up from the mess of snapped poles and crumpled oilcloth, teeth bared in a snarl and brow furrowed.
Arthur gaped, then looked up at the sheer walls on either side of the alley. Had he fallen ? What was this kid doing on the roof ? What the hell was up with this city and masks?!
The boy attempted to stand, but almost immediately collapsed with a bitten-off shout. Arthur rushed towards him.
“Shit, kid, you alright?” He questioned, starting to carefully step over the remnants of his tent to reach the boy.
“I - am - fine ,” the boy gritted out, damn near hissing between his teeth.
Arthur was halfway inclined to just back off and let the kid handle himself - until he caught sight of one of his legs bent at an unnatural angle halfway down the shin.
“You sure about that? Cause it looks like your leg is broken,” he said gently, kneeling beside him.
“ Obviously ,” the kid hissed. “But it is nothing I can’t handle. Now, back away .”
“Hm, now, I don’t think I’ll be doin’ that,” Arthur said. “You just sit still while I get a splint together, son.”
“You are not my father,” the kid practically seethed . “And you will not be touching me!”
Arthur smothered his grin as best he could as he lifted up the collapsed roof of his tent, looking for his med kit. The kid continued to try and move, rising halfway just to fall again, with nothing to support himself against. Arthur rifled through his scant belongings as quickly as he could. It’d be a damn shame if the kid screwed up his leg even worse before they could get it splinted, but it seemed like his tent was conspiring to hide his med kit from him.
Damn, damn, damn . There was his hat, Carnation’s saddle blanket, the little box with his savings tucked away inside it, but no sign of the bag he’d made a med kit out of. The kid wasn’t exactly calming down, either. A quick glance up showed that he’d grabbed one of the tent’s poles and was trying to wrestle it free for a walking cane.
That struggle stopped abruptly a few seconds later. “Is that a horse?” the boy asked blankly.
“Hm?” Arthur looked back over his shoulder, and sure enough the commotion had drawn Carnation closer, the pretty roan carefully picking her way through the camp to reach them. “Oh, yeah. That’s Carnation. Don’t worry, she’s gentle as a mouse - unless you give her reason not to be.”
He resumed digging through his tent, and not too long after pulled his med kit free with a triumphant aha! When he turned his attention back to the boy, he was surprised that his escape attempts had stopped. Instead, he just sat there, injured leg splayed out beside him, with one hand held out to Carnation. Carnation herself had stopped a few feet away and was studying the boy closely, never coming quite close enough to be touched.
“She likes carrots. I’ve got a few in my bag, if you want to feed her.”
The boy glanced at him, calculating, then nodded. “That would be satisfactory.”
Arthur snorted, but reached for his normal bag, where he kept his food and various odds and ends. Satisfactory . The kid had a funny way of speaking, that was for sure.
He produced a bundle of carrots in short order, handing them to the boy as he sat down beside him. “Just be careful. She has a tendency to jerk.”
The boy nodded seriously as he accepted the carrots. Arthur grinned, watching as he held one out to Carnation. The horse stretched out her neck, sniffing the carrot and the boy’s hand, before biting down and snapping off half of the root.
She almost immediately jerked her head back, keeping out of reach as she chewed. The boy laughed, still holding out the remainder of the carrot. After a moment, Carnation came back for it, this time keeping her head low as she ate. The boy let her snuff at his hand for another moment before stroking her head.
“Now, I’m gonna splint this leg of yours, if you don’t mind,” Arthur said, the supplies he needed already produced from the med kit. “Then you can feed her some more.”
The kid side eyed him before nodding seriously. “Very well. And then I must return to my duties.”
Arthur smothered another laugh as he bent his head and got to work.
Whatever the kid’s duties were, they weren’t too pressing, it seemed.
Two hours later saw the kid sitting only somewhat stiffly beside Arthur, thumbing through one of his old journals. He sure seemed to love the illustrations Arthur had peppered throughout it, and Arthur was more than happy to talk herbs. Even if it was with a severe little boy who, once his leg was splinted, had introduced himself as Robin.
“And that one’s a calendula, isn’t it?” Robin asked, pointing to an illustration of a flower.
“Yep, it is,” Arthur replied after scanning the paragraph next to it. “Good eye. You’re a smart kid.”
Robin didn’t reply, but he was certainly preening. Arthur got the sense he didn’t get praise like that often.
However, as much as Arthur had enjoyed the last couple hours (and Carnation, too, since she’d gotten every single carrot he had), this kid still had parents somewhere that were worried sick for him.
“Ever ridden a horse, son?” he asked.
Robin’s head snapped to him, eyes wide behind his mask. “A few times, but it was a long time ago. Can I…?”
“Absolutely,” Arthur told him. “Cause we’re gonna have to get you home. Let me saddle the old girl up and we’ll get moving.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Robin said dismissively. “My family will find me. They know where I am and are likely on their way as we speak. However, I would like to ride the horse.”
“...Uh-huh,” Arthur muttered, but shrugged and went about saddling Carnation anyway. Didn’t every kid think his parents were all-knowing and invincible? He’d just give it a bit, wait for the kid to concede that maybe it would be faster to go to his folks, instead of waiting for them to find him. Then he’d figure out which way he’d be heading and they’d be off.
Of course, then, ten minutes later there were two men in masks and weird ass outfits descending from the rooftops, seemingly baffled at finding Robin sitting atop a horse in an alleyway.
Arthur was equally baffled when, after thanking him, the trio left the same way they’d come in - scaling the walls and absolutely disappearing.
Arthur stared at the edge of the roof for a long time, wondering just how he’d gotten to this point in his life, before sighing and going to unsaddle Carnation.
A month in Gotham, and Arthur was sick.
The cough was bad. He could scarcely breathe without hacking up a lung and a half, and sometimes it rattled deep in his chest. And each time it did, the inescapable fear rose in his mind. Fear that the tuberculosis was back, that he’d only had a temporary reprieve, that one day he wasn’t going to be able to rise from his sleeping bag and he’d die staring at the dingy fabric of his tent.
The pain wasn’t there with the coughs, not yet , but he remembered it all too well.
He’d mentioned it to one of the men in his camp, a nice fellow named Logan, when they’d asked why he was keeping himself separate now. Explained that he’d been diagnosed with tuberculosis, and that he didn’t want to drag any of them down with him.
And, like a ray of sunshine through a storm, Logan had told him that there were treatments for tuberculosis. Treatments that worked .
The only downside was that he had two choices for how to get that treatment. He could either go crawling to Red, and put himself deep in debt to one of the most powerful men in Gotham, or he could go crawling to a hospital and spend the rest of his life paying it off.
One thing he’d found out was that, while Red Hood was a generous employer, he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Arthur didn’t want his treatment to come at the expense of others’ lives. There were a lot of stains on his soul that he’d learned to live with, but he didn’t intend to add another one so severe.
So, the hospital. But if he was going to go that route, he needed money. So, he steeled himself and put out feelers for the rougher kind of work.
And oh, there was plenty of it.
Most of them were folks he’d never want to work for, anyway. Red was offering a bit, but Arthur was still leery of Red’s larger operation, so that idea was dead in the water.
The lack of reputable employers was what drove Arthur, one dreary morning, to the nearest police station, asking after bounties.
First time in his damn life that the Law ever tried to dissuade him from chasing down criminals. First time they’d ever shown any ounce of care for his own life, too.
But, they weren’t actually in charge of him, and after a good amount of pressing, they’d given him the information he wanted. Their highest bounty on offer was a man called the Joker. He’d committed just about every crime on the books, from petty to capital. The price on his head was so damn impressive that Arthur had nearly keeled over then and there from the shock of it. Ten million dollars .
Which led to now. Now being the day Arthur was chasing the Joker’s getaway car, spurring Carnation faster than he ever had in the city just to keep the mad bastard in sight.
“C’mon girl, c’mon!” He yelled over the wind, plastered to Carnation’s back with his pistol drawn, three of his twenty-one bullets already spent. Carnation let out a shrill whinny in response, damn near flying down the road.
The Joker had slowed just a bit to make a turn, and Arthur aimed for the wheels. Four quick shots, and he crowed in victory as one of the tires popped.
Even luckier - the sudden imbalance caused the car to swerve, crashing into a lightpost. The freak himself darted out of the front seat, making to run for it. He was cut off by Carnation flying past him, then making a quick turn to loop back around him.
The Joker tried to say something - Arthur wasn’t terribly interested in what. What he was interested in was when his lasso snapped closed around his shoulders, yanking him to the ground as Arthur dismounted.
“You, sir,” he panted as he man-handled the Joker onto his stomach, roughly tying his hands together, “are an ugly son of a bitch.”
“A cowboy ,” the Joker said flatly, staring dead ahead even as Arthur finished tying his feet together and went to throw him over Carnation’s back. “You aren’t even a bat. You’re a cowboy .”
“Nice eye,” Arthur drawled, “I am, indeed, not a small flying mammal. Thought they said you were smart .”
Arthur was leaned back against the wall of the police station, watching Carnation graze nearby and quietly celebrating his success, when he became sharply aware of a shadow looming over him.
One of the men from the alley, who’d come to pick up Robin. It was the taller, broader one, dressed all in black with little ears on his cowl.
“Yes, sir, can I help you?” Arthur asked, easygoing smile on his face. The man’s jaw twitched.
“You’re the one that brought in the Joker.” It wasn’t a question. Arthur chose to treat it like one.
“Yes, I am. And I am quite happy with the outcome.”
“You didn’t kill him.” The man’s voice was still flat, gravelly, not giving much of anything away. Arthur threw him a wry grin.
“Yeah. They’re worth more alive, y’know.”
“So you just wanted money? Why?” Oh, he was getting irritated. Good thing Arthur was in a damn good mood.
“Well, for starters, I’m gonna get my tuberculosis treated,” he said, and that startled the guy a bit, from the sudden twitch. “And then I am getting the hell out of this city. Damn I never thought I’d miss Saint Denis.”
The man simply stood there in silence, the both of them watching Carnation rove about, before starting to speak. Before he could get so much as a word out, however, a shout rang across the parking lot.
“ Cowboy?! What the hell ?!” Red Hood was storming across the parking lot towards them. The man in black skittered back several steps, and Arthur barely had time to consider doing the same before he was - crushed into a hug?
“You’re fucking insane ,” Red Hood seethed against his shoulder. “You - you lunatic, thinking cocaine is medicine and riding a horse through Gotham like fucking George Clooney, and you went after the Joker and caught him ?”
“Ja - Red Hood,” the man in black started, but Red just held up a hand.
“Shut up, B. Cowboy,” that faceless helmet turned back to Arthur, “Tell me - did you at least hit him real good before you handed him over?”
Arthur thought back to the ride to the station. The Joker had found his voice after a couple of blocks. Arthur had given him a swift elbow to the face. “Yeah, I did. Wouldn’t shut his ass up, even hogtied.”
Red grabbed both of Arthur’s shoulders in a death grip. “You crazy son of a bitch. I’m keeping you.”
“Excuse you, I thought I was clear that I’m not staying in this hellhole,” Arthur said. Red waved a dismissive hand.
“Yeah, yeah, but you’ve got to stay here while you’re getting treatment, right?” If Arthur didn’t know better, he’d say that Red sounded like he was grinning. “Hey, B,” Red pointed at Arthur. “Mine. Hands off.”
“ Yours ?”
“B” nodded. “Understood, Hood.” He looked back at Arthur. “If you need a place to stay while you’re seeking treatment-”
“Hey, what part of hands off didn’t you get, old man?”
Arthur groaned and stood up. “Right, well, I’ll see you gentlemen later. I need a nap.”
Both of the masked men started to protest, but Arthur blocked them out as he swung onto Carnation’s back, spurring her back to camp.
Absolutely fuck this weird ass city.