Chapter 2
Come, if you're curious to see
Pull the trick out of my sleeve
All you find is yours to keep
Brave, are you brave enough to meet
The desires that you seek
Hold my hand, I'll set you free
The Rigs- Devil's Playground
Tom was utterly, mind-bendingly furious. He had burned down that wretched place a mere seven hours ago and he realized that he had made a very big mistake. He truly had no idea how to start building his new life. He might have read all about what to do and how to do it but he hadn't taken into account his age and how that would factor into things.
He cursed, frustrated. He didn't think of himself as a child. He was Tom Riddle for heaven's sake! The smartest six year old out there. But they adults wouldn't see it like that. If he went to an adult they would probably send him back to another orphanage. He shuddered. That was if they didn't get suspicious about how he was the only survivor of the fire at Wool's Orphanage.
His thoughts kept turning back to the orphanage and how it might have been better had he never set it on fire. He might still have had a place to stay, he could have planned everything to the finest detail. He savagely pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. It wouldn't have been better! He would rather be on the streets, starving and free than locked up in that mockery of a home for children, starved, beaten and bladed for every little strange occurrence.
He had quietly slipped into the town among the bustle of tourists when he realized his current dilemma and he hid himself in the first abandoned alley he found so that he could think about this before being confronted with his problem. Night had well and truly fallen while he sat in that dark alley thinking about his problems. With a sigh he hauled up his small weary body and slowly made his way out of the alley and into the busy street, backpack slung round his shoulder.
As he emerged from the shadowy corridor he glimpsed the vivid colour of the clothes tourists seemed to prefer. He felt a slow smirk spread across his rosebud lips. Tourists. He'd read about how they were easy prey for con artists and thieves. It shouldn't be easy to get money out of them. With his young, innocent look and his skill for pickpocketing (which he had honed into an art form at the orphanage) he knew he would be able to get the money he needed for food and a place to stay fairly easily. He would probably have to look for some seedy establishment and try to use his… power, he really didn't know what to call the things he could do, to change his appearance enough that he didn't look so young.
Tom had no qualms with begging. He had learned long ago that pride meant nothing when you were hungry and afraid and cold. With this mindset firmly in place Tom started to scope his potential 'victims'. His clothes were old and threadbare as was his backpack. He was also painfully aware that years of malnutrition had left him pale and with a distinct air of fragility. He could play the poor young child looking for some money to help his poor ailing mother to perfection.
There. Walking towards his place next to the brick wall was an elderly couple, clearly tourists. He sucked in a breath and allowed his shoulders to slump. He distributed most of his weight to his left leg, enhancing his image of broken fragility. His heart pounded in his small chest with a mixture of anticipation and adrenaline. They drifted closer to his slumped form. When the old woman was in hearing range he allowed his breath to hitch painfully and audibly in his chest.
From the corner of his eye he glimpsed the woman turn towards him, her concern evident. He watched with malicious amusement as her eyes roamed over his pitiful form. She tugged her husband's arm and pointed towards him in what she probably thought was a subtle move. As he watched they slowly altered their course towards him. He had to hide his smirk. Once again he allowed his breath to hitch, as if he was crying.
The old woman and man were in front of him now but he refused to straighten his slumped form or look up from his scuffed shoes. A wrinkled hand descended onto his bony shoulder and his flinch was all natural. Tom didn't like it when people touched him.
"Child?" the word was framed as a question by a kind female voice. Tom curled his shoulders up to his ears. "Boy," this time it was a gruff voice that answered, "do ya need any help?" this surprised Tom. He had expected the woman to do most of the talking.
He slowly lifted up his pale teary face to stare at the couple. He watched both the man and woman flinch when they caught sight of his face. He cleared his throat. "No, sir." Tom replied ensuring there was a faint wobble to his voice.
Both of them stared at him in apparent disbelief. "Are ya sure, boy?" the man again. Tom flicked his eyes to the side, not making eye contact. "I… I just… yes?" he asked the question as if unsure about what to do. The tourists shared a look over his head. "You can tell us, child. We may even be able to help you." Tom sucked in a breath and stared at the woman with huge watery dark eyes. He could practically see her melt.
"I… it's my mum, miss."
"What about your mother?" the woman's voice was impossible gentle
"She's real sick, miss!" he blurted out. He then went back to staring at his shoes as if he had said something he shouldn't have. It was the man's turn to suck in a breath.
"What's wrong with her?" the grizzled man asked. Judging by the man's face Tom thought that his mother must have had some kind of illness. Tom flinched and fiddled with the frayed cuffs of his sleeves. He flicked his eyes back up and between the two of them before sucking in a breath and staring over the man's shoulder.
"I dunno know, sir. My mum won't tell me! But the doctor was there and mum has so much medicine but it's gone 'cause we don't have money and she looks real bad." All of this was said in a rush and by the end Tom had tears trickling down his small face. The tourists stared at each other again, clearly communicating silently, before the man nodded once and the woman turned back to Tom.
"We aren't doctors or even know doctors so we can't help you in that area but we can help you with your mothers medicine." The woman's voice was dripping with sympathy. Her husband had taken out his wallet and was removing what looked like two crisp hundred pound notes. "This is for your mother's medicine," the old man said gruffly "don't go spending it on something else." He reached out, took Tom's small hand in his and placed the notes in his palm.
Tom stared at his hand in amazement. That was a lot of money. He turned to stare at them and burst into tears. "I can't… thank you.' He sobbed. The woman pulled him into her arms and squeezed him. "Just help your mother get better." Mumbled the woman into his hair.
Tom pulled out of her embrace to stare at the man in gratitude. "Go on," the man muttered "go home." Tom gave them both a dazzling smile before stuffing the money in his pocket, turning around and running up the street. He knew the foreign couple were still staring after him so he turned down into a random road and slowed down to a walk.
He didn't feel back about tricking the couple out of their money. If people willingly wanted to waste their money, it wasn't his problem. But it did make him warm on the inside to know that there actually were nice grownups. After everything he'd been through in his short six years, it felt good to know that there were genuinely good people in the world.
Now he just had to figure out what to do next. He couldn't pull he same trick in the same place, they would easily catch on to what he was doing. He had more than enough money to buy a train ticket to another town. With his worries about money assuaged for the moment, Tom chose to stroll down the streets teeming with people and just observe.
A man caught his eyes. He was very tall and well built, with large shoulders and he walked with this strange liquid grace. But it wasn't the way he walked that caught Tom's attention. It wasn't the strangely coloured hip length hair, or the form fitting pitch black clothing. What caught and held Tom's attention was the strange bulging pouch on the man's belt. Pouches usually meant valuables. Now one character flaw of Tom's that he had desperately tried to get rid of was his curiosity. He hadn't succeeded.
Emboldened by his previous success and his skill as a pickpocket, Tom slowly made his way towards the man. Sliding around people with the grace of a dance. As he neared the man he prepared himself slide against him and grab the pouch on his way and then disappear. His heart beating even harder than previously, adrenaline running through his limbs, Tom made his move. Clearly he had an adrenaline problem.
He slided against the man's surprising hard form and wrapped his slim hand around the pouch. Before he could move away a different, much bigger and bronzed hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging him to a halt. Tom felt fear ice his veins.
"Well," came the silky purr "what do we have here?" Tom turned to stare wide eyed at the man who currently held his arm captive. It wasn't the man that he had tried to rob. This man was even bigger with dark bronze skin, wild shoulder length black hair and slanted black eyes set over a slim aristocratic nose and a surprisingly lush mouth. Everything about him screamed 'wild'. Tom hadn't accounted for being caught. He had no idea what to do.
"It appears to be a little thief." Came the amused reply to his left. Tom stared at the man who he tried to rob. He hadn't looked closely at the man before but took the chance to do so now. His hip length hair had perfectly spaced and sized stripes running through. Orange, red, black and pure white. His eyes were a liquid gold. He his nose had a feline quality to it, wide and slightly flat. His lower lip was fuller than the upper. Where the previous man screamed 'wild' this one practically roared 'feral'.
While he had been staring at them, they were busy studying him. Their eyes were calculating and he had the feeling that they might eat him if he did the wrong thing. He shuddered. His power trailed across his skin, reacting to his fear. The black haired man raised a slim eyebrow at this. Tom felt a reaction from the man. It was like the man's power caressed every part of Tom. He gasped and swayed towards the black haired man. "Fascinating" he crooned.
"Do you know what you are, kid?" asked the yellow eyes man. Tom bristled at being called a child but kept his mouth shut. The yellow eyes man laughed. "I'll take that as a no. What if I said we could teach you?" he breathed leaning forwards. "We could show you what you are. We could teach you how to use this… intoxicating power." The last words were a murmur.
Tom didn't know what to do. His biggest flaw had always been his greed for knowledge. And to finally know what he was... to know how to consciously use this power?
"Why?" he asked, unable to keep the distrust from his voice. The black haired man, who still hadn't let go of his arm, replied. "We're bored kid. And it would be a right shame to let someone with your potential go along untrained, wasting away or accidentally end up blowing yourself and the neighborhood you happen to be in up,"
"What would you expect of me?" the man finally let go of his arm.
"What any teacher would expect. Obedience. That you will do your best. That you will listen without bias. You would live with us," here the golden eyed man stared at him critically "you would be required to eat three meals a day as well as follow a diet plan."
"That's all?" Tom asked, not daring to hope.
"More rules will be added as you grow or as we feel is needed." The black haired man stared at him, eyes wild and filled with anticipation. He held out his big bronze hand for Tom to take. "What do you say?"
Tom thought about it. They were appealing to his two biggest character flaws. His curiosity and his need for knowledge. They might just be doing this because they were perverts or because they wanted to hurt him. But… if they were sincere he would have a home. One with people who understood him and could help him. One with people who might even grow to love him. Regardless of his calculating personality or previous deeds, Tom was still just a six year old child. And he wanted what every other child did.
"Okay." Toms murmured, staring at them with big apprehensive eyes, and slowly slid his pale hand into the much bigger one offered. The black haired man closed his hand around Tom's and flashed a grin. "Good" both of them said.
Interesting, the Voice crooned in the back of young Tom's head.