When they stopped by the pod to go back to the airship, Dad Reginald, Uncle Right, and Henry looked over his haul. Unfortunately, Henry had to give some of it to the vault, but he kept a good amount and some of the pretty baubles he'd prioritized over money. Unfortunately, Dad Reginald and Uncle Right were really busy when they got back. But that did not mean Henry was left alone. Instead, Matilda Ivy swooped in.
"You look dashing in that new outfit!" Matilda exclaimed. "But your hair is just so messy. Come on, let's put your clothes away and find a nice bathroom. I have just the thing!"
A sinking feeling fell into the pit of Henry's stomach, but he obediently followed her and did what had to be done. Matilda brought him to one of the unisex bathrooms they had on ship and went to work rinsing out his hair. She somehow summoned a chair into existence and sat him down in front of the sink and mirror. Henry flinched and curled his fingers into his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"Oh, don't worry, Henry," the woman clucked. "I won't hurt you! I'm the absolute best person when it comes to hair. Curly, straight, wavy, natural, dyed, short, long, greasy, dry, well-groomed, or messy–I'm the expert. Those old hags put in charge of you weren't. I can tell. Don't worry, this may hurt a little bit at first, but then you'll feel better than ever before!"
Henry gulped and hummed in response, but he still couldn't relax. The other ladies tended to say they were good with hair, too. But Henry's hair was stupid and curly, and it always hurt to brush or wash through. It took hours to clean and it always left his head pounding and feeling raw.
Yet, Matilda did none of this. She hummed a pleasant tune and gently went to work to tease out debris and knots with her fingers. In fact, as time went on, Henry started to relax a little. After all, if she got impatient, she could end up hurting him again. But she didn't become impatient. Instead, she gently worked the conditioner into and out of his hair with plenty of water and her fingers, rather than a brush. When she was satisfied with that, she worked some shampoo into her hands and then into Henry's hair. She avoided the ends of his hair, but he didn't know why or even how as his hair wasn't that long to begin with. She switched to cooler water to rinse out the rest of the soap, where the soap had an opportunity to wash over the ends of his hair.
A rather long eventually later, Matilda switched between drying off his hair with a special towel and running her comb through it. "…and there! Look at that!" She urged him to stand up and look into the mirror. "All clean! How do you feel?"
Alright, Henry didn't know much about hair. He knew even less about his own hair. But what he did know was that he felt much… cleaner. Lighter. Like someone had taken a dirty, haggard cat off his head. "Better!"
He saw Matilda grin behind him in the mirror. "Oh wonderful! Now, what did Reginald and Right Hand Man teach you while you were out? Pick-pocketing?"
Henry turned to her completely and nodded.
Matilda thought for a moment. "That's a good skill to have. I'll bet half my hair products Right Hand Man isn't going to hesitate to teach you marksmanship. But how about a little lesson in disguise?"
"Disguise?" Henry parroted.
Matilda nodded and hummed as she put away her supplies. "You see, Henry, pick-pocketing is a great skill to have in your day-to-day life. It's the foundation for stealing and slight-of-hand magic tricks, and a good start on your deceit! But the problem with that is that if you get caught, and they get a good look at you, it's over. Unless… you don't look like you."
Long hallways choked with darkness… voices quiet and masculine tinged with the crack of boyhood… a sharp bark from a lady… loneliness. God, he was alone. He was alone. He'd never see anyone again. He was alone. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. Oh God he couldn't
Henry hit the wall with a hard thunk. The immediate reaction of a headache and soreness in his shoulder was the first thing to come to his fuzzy mind. He put a hand to his throat and chest, but there was nothing there, not even the leftover ache of something sitting on him. Henry whimpered and curled up into himself. His blanket lay in a heap on the floor, out of his reach. The only light that trickled into the room came from the bathroom, which Howie liked to keep on at night as it made it easier to find the light in the morning.
Henry tried to take deep, calming breaths, but it was not to be. He put a hand over his mouth, smothering himself and his hitched choking. Finally, unable to force himself to sleep, Henry quietly slipped out of bed. He threw his blanket back onto the mattress and turned around. Howie slept soundly. The boy only woke to his alarm, loud and shrill as a siren.
Not wanting to disturb his roommate, Henry opened his door and dragged his feet down the hall. Through his half-senses, it was difficult to distinguish room from room or remember which one belonged to Dad Reginald. But eventually, he was able to find Dad Reginald's room. Nervous of waking anyone else, he quietly knocked on the door. Surprisingly, the small sound was enough to cause the noise of cloth rubbing over cloth and feet to step through the small room.
The door opened, revealing Dad Reginald, hair messy and dark nightclothes ruffled. Even his white-speckled nightclothes had a collar and buttons in the front. "Henry? What are you doing up so late?"
Henry looked down at his own feet. "Bad dream," he mumbled.
Dad Reginald let out a short sigh. For a moment, he didn't say anything. But Dad Reginald stepped back into his room, gesturing for Henry to do the same. When he sat down on his bed, Henry was right beside him, burying his face in the man's side and trying to control his breathing as his hiccupping came back. "Do you, er, wish to tell me?"
The first thought that came to Henry's mind was "no." What if he told Dad Reginald and then he called Henry's nightmare stupid, like the ladies at the orphanage sometimes liked to do? But Dad Reginald was not like them, Henry knew that. Eventually, Henry relented and repeated his dream, though he stopped in the middle as he started whimpering and hiccupping.
"You're a Toppat, Henry," Dad Reginald said, setting his hand awkwardly on Henry's back. "You won't see that place again."
"But what if you don't like me anymore?" Henry blurted out, and then immediately wished he didn't. He felt Dad Reginald tense. At first, the man didn't speak. Did Henry really surprise him that much? Henry wasn't proper and he was too much of a–what did the ladies call him?–klep-toe-maniac and he didn't even know how to wash his own hair.
"Believe me, Henry, if we didn't like you, we wouldn't have adopted you. You are well loved here. I enjoy teaching you." Dad Reginald's tone became a little more confident at the end.
Henry smiled a little at that. He did like learning from them. "Thanks, Dad."
"Come, now, Henry. It's time to go to bed."
Henry looked up at Dad Reginald. "Can I sleep with you?"
"…if it will help you sleep." With that, Dad Reginald got up, leading Henry to do the same, pulled the blanket back to its proper place on the bed, and peeled it back.
Henry liked sleeping in his own bed. He wasn't a baby, anymore, he could do that. But he knew the nightmares would get him there. Dad Reginald wouldn't let him have nightmares. Henry was safe with him. So, he curled up next to Dad Reginald and, with the blanket over them both, fell asleep rather quickly.
The next day, Henry sat on his bed and admired a pearl bracelet he'd liberated the day prior. The little pearls tinked each time they hit each other, and the light shone off them perfectly at any angle. He cooed and messed with them, both admiring them and trying to find an angle that would not fit them. He was happy he failed with that second part. He pulled out his backpack, which was not even at half capacity, and shuffled through it. He pulled out a necklace with a few glimmering gems at the end. Unfortunately, Darius Johnsonite saw Henry holding it and immediately found the gems to be fake. Well, that was okay. They were still pretty. At least Henry didn't have to give it away.
Henry put both the items away and shuffled through his backpack again.
Hisssss. "'Enry."
Henry jumped and looked up. Strangely, Uncle Right stood before him, Dad Reginald nowhere to be seen. "Yeah, Uncle Right?"
"Come on. I'm teaching you 'ow to use a gun."
Henry gasped, "Really, Uncle Right?"
"Yes. Reg and I agreed you're more than old enough to learn."
Henry set his backpack under his bed and jumped to his feet.
"'Enry, guns are dangerous." Uncle Right pulled out a BB gun, holding it so that it pointed toward the ground, but low enough to give Henry a good look at it. "But they're a tool, and you will be its master. Don't point your gun at anyone you aren't willing to shoot, understand?"
"I understand."
"What do you understand?"
Henry repeated, "I understand." He tried to say something more, but it was as if something was stopping him. Something choked his words, restricting him, stopping him from saying what he needed to say. "Never…" He looked up at Uncle Right helplessly.
"Go on," Uncle Right said, his tone never faltering.
Henry thought for a moment. Uncle Right… wasn't mad at Henry? Even though Henry was taking a long time to answer his question, he wasn't mad or trying to rush him. "Never… point at someone… you won't shoot."
"You know why they're dangerous?"
"…they can hurt people," Henry answered.
"Yes. You can kill someone with a gun."
Henry's eyes went round.
"It's necessary, at times," Uncle Right explained, his tone never wavering from its cool neutrality. "You must do whatever is necessary to keep the Clan and its members safe. To keep yourself alive, you may need to shoot someone else. Remember: you will rarely be the only one with a gun in a fight."
Henry frowned. "I… but you can't."
"Mercy will get you, or someone you are supposed to be protecting, killed. 'Enry, if someone was going to shoot Reg, would you stop them?"
"Of course!" The answer was instantaneous; it didn't last long enough as a thought to be registered.
"If that person 'ad friends and family?" Uncle Right went on.
"Y-yeah," Henry admitted, a little slower this time.
"Never 'esitate, kid," Uncle Right stated. "But don't shoot blindly. We're not brutes, 'Enry. Now, look at this." Uncle Right knelt so that he and Henry were on the same level. He pointed to a little contraption near the trigger that looked a little like a black button poking out from behind it. "This is the safety. Its job is to prevent the gun from firing. When you're not shooting, keep this in place. When you want to use the gun, undo the safety. 'Ere, you just press down on this button until it clicks." When Uncle Right pushed down on the safety, it clicked and the little button, black but ringed red, popped out of the other side. "This shows that the gun is ready to fire. 'Owever, you will still need to cock it. Cocking the gun will put the bullet in place in the chamber and the 'ammer ready. Got it?"
Henry nodded. "Yes, Uncle Right. Safety… to not shoot. Cocking to shoot."
"Correct. Now, this is the muzzle. Put your 'and 'ere when you're 'olding it." Uncle Right went through and described all the pieces of the gun and what they did or what he should do with them. Henry would have gotten bored, if he wasn't constantly quizzed on what he had just been told. Most of the quizzing was over something they just went through, but occasionally Uncle Right would pull forth a question from earlier about anything from safety to parts to the use of a gun.
Uncle Right stood up. "Now, keep the gun pointed down; never point a weapon at someone you are not willing to shoot, even if you think the gun is empty or the safety is on. Understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Right."
"What did I say?"
"Never point a gun… at someone you… you don't wanna shoot," Henry explained.
"Correct. Now, take out a few pairs of glasses." Henry picked up both sets of safety glasses from the previously locked box that had been holding the BB gun. Uncle Right put on a pair, as did Henry.
"Now, 'old this." He held out the BB gun for Henry, its muzzle still pointed down.
Henry gently took it and swallowed. Suddenly, the gun was huge and it was heavy. It was ready to go off at any minute, ready to hurt himself or Uncle Right or–
"Calm down. You are in control of that weapon. Not the other way around."
"Okay." Henry took a few deep breaths and readjusted his grip on the weapon, mimicking the grip he saw Uncle Right use.
"Take your finger off the trigger," Uncle Right ordered. Henry complied, pulled his index finger from the trigger to the trigger guard. "Your finger should only be on the trigger when you're willing to shoot. Right now, you're just 'olding the gun."
"Yes, Uncle Right."
"Now, look down the range. See that target?"
Henry saw many targets, some human shapes, others circles. The one Uncle Right indicated looked like a giant dart board. He nodded.
"Now, I need you to 'it the center of that board."
Henry glanced up at Uncle Right and then the board and back.
"You'll learn," Uncle Right said. "That's why we practice."
Henry quietly offered the gun back.
"Alright. An example. Watch closely." Uncle Right took the gun when presented and stood up straight, both hands on the gun and pointed to the target. He looked down the sights on the top of the gun and shot. Pop! A hole popped through the center of the target. He flipped the weapon over, pulled the trigger guard out toward the muzzle and then snapped it back into place. He pulled it back up to aim again without once looking away. "The sights are to help you with aiming." Pop! "And never let your grip go lax." Pop!
Uncle Right lowered the BB gun. Henry looked at the slightly wider hole in the target. "Wow."
"Yes. Now 'ere." Uncle Right presented the gun again. Henry took it and held on tight. "Keep your 'ands up, kid." Uncle Right prodded Henry's arms, encouraging him to raise his hands and shift his grip to keep a good hold on the weapon. Henry looked down the sights of the gun at the target. He took a few deep breaths to relax himself, though not too much as to loosen his grip on the weapon. Eventually, he gently moved his index finger onto the trigger.
Pop!
There was hardly any recoil from the beginner's weapon. Henry lowered it a little to see his work. A hole broke through the target near the top. Henry pouted, cocked his gun, and raised it again.
Pop!
Another hole appeared, this one slightly closer to the center, but also a few inches to the left. The third and fourth holes were closer still, but off kilter. Wow, cocking the gun wasn't that easy, was it? Or, simple, probably, but it still took effort and energy to do it.
Uncle Right commanded, "Stop."
Henry paused and looked up.
"Take your index finger off the trigger. Activate the safety. Now, why do you think you're missing?"
"I don't know," Henry responded, albeit a little sharply.
"Don't take that tone with me," Uncle Right warned. Henry pouted but said nothing. "Now, a good, steady aim takes practice. You will not master this today. Keep the muzzle pointed down, 'Enry. It takes years to completely master a weapon. What you 'ave is a BB gun; it's for beginners and it can 'urt, but it doesn't 'ave the power of a 'andgun or rifle. It uses air and rubber pellets instead of gunpowder, so it doesn't 'ave the recoil. Now, what are you going to do if I ask you to continue?"
"Take off the safety… cock it… and-and shoot," Henry explained.
Uncle Right nodded. "Continue."
Henry looked to the target again. He pressed down on the button holding the safety, cocked the gun, and pointed it toward the target. Pop! The hole was closer to the center of the target. Henry grinned and looked up at Uncle Right, who hadn't changed his expression. Still, he gave him a little nod. Henry lost his smile and concentrated on the target again. Click.
"Stop," Uncle Right commanded.
Henry, biting back a retort, moved his finger to the trigger guard and lowered the gun.
"'Enry."
"What?"
"Don't take that tone with me. What are you supposed to do when I tell you to stop?"
"Stop."
Uncle Right frowned at him. "Tell me the steps."
Henry stated, "Stop and lower the gun. I take my finger off the trigger. I activate the safety. …oh! Sorry." He looked down and clicked the safety back into place. A sudden bashfulness took the place of his irritation. "Sorry, Uncle Right."
Uncle Right stated, "Now, you know what you did wrong."
Henry nodded. "I forgot to cock the gun again."
"Correct. Now, why did I stop you?"
"I tried to shoot it?" Henry responded.
"And why is that important?"
Henry wrinkled his nose. "It won't fire. A-and something… bad happens."
"Correct. 'Enry, weapons can be unpredictable, but you don't need to 'elp them along. Always keep track of your weapon. Know if it is loaded or not, whether the safety is on or not, or where your 'and is and the trigger. If you don't know what is 'appening with your weapon, it can misfire and 'urt you or an ally, or it can not fire at all and give your opponent a chance to kill you. I've seen great Toppats and enemies alike die because they forgot to check their clip and when they went to fire, their weapons didn't go off."
"That's horrible!"
"Guns can save your life or end it, 'Enry, remember that. Now, continue."
Henry turned off the safety, cocked the gun, and went back to shooting. He went through two whole clips. The target was peppered with holes, though most of them were concentrated near the middle-left. Finally, as Henry felt his arms were going to fall off from handling the gun so much, he fired and hit the target in the center ring. It didn't hit the exact center, where Uncle Right hit, but it was within the circle ring. Henry grinned and turned to Uncle Right.
Uncle Right gave Henry a nod and a smile so small he might have imagined it.
Excitement bubbled up inside of him, but Henry turned back to the target, took a deep breath to calm himself at least a little bit, and cocked the gun.
Finally, when Henry emptied the weapon a second time, Uncle Right stated, "Stop."
Henry set his finger on the trigger guard, activated the gun's safety, and pointed it down. Back to Uncle Right he concentrated.
"You've improved. You learn quickly, 'Enry. I'll give you a book to read about safety. Day after tomorrow we can come back 'ere and we'll continue our lesson. Understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Right!"
"Good. Now, when you're done using a gun, make sure that it's empty and its safety is on. Then, load it into a lockbox. For now, I'll be keeping it with me. Understand?"
"Yes, Uncle Right."
They both took off their safety glasses and loaded them in with the gun. Once the BB gun was safely loaded into its box and shut tight, Uncle Right approached the target with Henry. Henry let out a quiet breath as he examined the paper riddled with holes. Although he knew it was just paper, those bullets went clean through! Some dented the wood that was holding it. If a BB gun could do this to paper just being rubber pellets launched with compact air, what about metal bullets?
Uncle Right took down and rolled up the target paper until it was as tightly coiled as he could make it, bound it with a few rubber bands, and then picked up their gear. "Now, it's about time for lunch." He looked out to where their borrowed car sat waiting to be occupied. "What kind of ice cream do you like, kid?"
The Toppat Clan had to be a dream, there was no other way to describe it. Dad Reginald and Uncle Right were pretty busy, being higher ups and very good at their jobs. But Dad Reginald still had time to teach him the proper way of acting and living–everything from manners to speech to how to tell when someone was lying and how to lie. He put a lot of emphasis on respect, dignity, and image. True to his word, Uncle Right took him out for shooting lessons. Each lesson began with a quiz over safety, and gently evolved into one over the different parts of a gun and specifics about the weapon they used–the BB gun. Uncle Right sometimes took him out for ice cream after, but only on the condition he didn't tell anyone else as he told Dad Reginald he'd quit with the frozen treats and only if Henry did exceptionally well.
When Matilda wasn't on a mission or helping someone else, she was teaching Henry how to hide in plain sight, to change his appearance with hardly any effort or supplies. Also, to make sure he was washing his hair once a week. Howie met up with him back at their room and sometimes outside, where he'd teach Henry why and how different people acted, and how to get around their defenses and find their insecurities. This was good for finding a way to pull at heartstrings, but also good in a way to manipulate a person into thinking whatever Henry wanted them to think. Howie's lessons were difficult, and Henry wasn't great at it. But he did learn how to use his cute looks to his advantage when trying to weasel a favor out of someone. He never tried it on other Clan members because he knew it would fail and he'd look stupid. Again, image was everything, as Dad Reginald taught him.
How did Henry go from being a scrappy, troublesome orphan with no chance at a free future to being a Toppat recruit?