Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arthur sighed as the social worker led him into the building and told him to go to the room with the other kids. 

He'd probably run right now if he wasn't exhausted from hiding in a cave for two nights from a Atlantean patrol. He'd crawled out on the third and gotten found soaking wet near the beach by the cops. Poseidon knew how they fell for the lie he came up with…... 

He walked in, stole some of the candies in the bowl in the corner and looked around. 

There were mostly teenagers or little kids, hanging or screaming, or fighting over the little food left to go around. The teen near the door came over and quietly told Arthur that 'The mean adults are gone for a while, so it's safe for now'. Arthur knew what he meant. 

No others around his age- Oh, there were two, in the corner, grumpily sat on the couch but collabing on a puzzle, looking only a year younger. 

Arthur hesitantly wandered over. His Atlantean senses told him that they smelled different. 

One of them had brown hair and the kind of face that said I fight adults on principle. His jaw was already set in a defiant scowl, and he was placing puzzle pieces with the precision of a kid who refused to mess up. The other was blond, scrawnier, but had this jittery energy like he was vibrating in place. He kept glancing around like he was expecting someone to snatch the puzzle away at any second.

Arthur hesitated. They both smelled off , but not in a bad way. Just off. The brown-haired one smelled like metal and jet fuel—sharp, burnt, unnatural, and another thing he couldn’t place. The blond one smelled like a storm rolling in, the air before lightning struck.

They both glanced up at the same time, fixing him with nearly identical suspicious expressions.

Arthur stopped in front of them, crunching down on one of the stolen candies, and scowled back. Fine. If they were gonna be weird, he’d be weird too.

“What are you lookin’ at?” Brown-Hair challenged.

Arthur popped another candy in his mouth. “You two smell funny.”

Blond-Kid blinked at him. Then, to Arthur’s surprise, he grinned, lopsided and mischievous. “You’re one to talk, dude. You smell like the ocean. ”

Arthur scowled. “Yeah. ‘Cause I was in the ocean.”

“Uh-huh.” The blond kid elbowed his friend. “Hey, Hal. We found another feral one.”

Hal—Arthur guessed that was Brown-Hair’s name—snorted. “Great. You run away a lot?”

Arthur hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah.”

Hal and Blond-Kid exchanged a glance. Then, in perfect unison, they shoved a space between them on the couch and patted it like an invitation.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Hal said. “Just gotta answer one question.”

Blond-Kid leaned forward, suddenly serious. “If you could punch any adult in the face and get away with it, who would it be?”

Arthur blinked. Considered. And then, for the first time in days, he grinned.

“Does it have to be just one?”

~~~

Hal had come from Coast City and had gotten yeeted to the system when his pilot dad died in a plane crash and his mom died from a car crash. Barry had come from Central City and had been thrown to the system when his mom died. 

Arthur told them that his mother had been forced by her family to leave him and his father when he was little, and his father had died soon after. That was half-truth. Leaving out the Atlantean stuff. 

Neither of them called him out on the plotholes in his tale.

Barry just nodded like he got it. Like he understood what it was like to have pieces of a story you didn’t want to share. Hal shrugged and said, “Yeah, adults suck.”

That was that.

The three of them clicked instantly, in the way that kids who had nothing and no one else sometimes did.

~~

Their first night at the foster home, they stole snacks from the kitchen, pocketed extra socks (because Hal, you keep losing yours, you absolute menace ), and scouted the best window for sneaking out.

(By the third day, they were already planning their escape.)

Chapter Text

That night, they found themselves alone in their room. It was fun, to say the least. They usually didn't make friends, but somehow they clicked. They felt safe. They fooled around, tussled and bickered like siblings.

It felt…. Safe.  

Safe enough, that carefully, they told each other carefully about their powers.   

~~~

The three of them sat cross-legged on the floor, a disheveled pile of blankets and candy wrappers surrounding them. The room had a musty smell, the kind that comes with too many kids and not enough attention, but to them, it was home. For now.

Arthur, who had been eyeing the window for a potential escape route, turned back to Hal and Barry. They hadn’t really talked about their... differences yet. He had been careful about keeping his secret; he wasn’t sure who could be trusted. 

But Hal and Barry were different. He didn’t know why, but it felt like they understood, in some way, without needing to ask.

Hal was the first to break the silence. His eyes flickered with something like excitement, but there was also a strange wariness behind them, like he was testing them. "So," he started slowly, rolling a candy wrapper between his fingers, "I’m guessing I’m not the only one who’s... different."

Arthur hesitated. He had learned to hide his powers out of necessity, but this was different. These weren’t adults. These were kids, like him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I... I can talk to fish. And other sea creatures. And... I’m stronger when I’m in the water. I can.. Kinda? Waterbend? I can breathe underwater, too. My mother was an Atlantean princess, and she wasn't supposed to run away and half a a half-huamn child, but she did."

Barry’s eyes widened. "No way. That’s cool. "

Arthur shrugged. “Yeah, well. It’s mostly useful for not drowning. I don’t know how to control it all yet. But... it’s... it’s there.”

Barry was nodding along, his hands fidgeting with his sleeves. “I get that. I’m, uh—well, I got hit by lightning. And... I can run really, really fast now. Like, faster than I should be able to. I’m still figuring it out.” He grinned sheepishly, like he was telling them a secret that wasn’t much of a secret at all. “My reflexes and mind are kinda insane now, too.”

Hal raised an eyebrow at him. “Wait, you got hit by lightning? And it gave you speed?”

“Yup. Worst way to get a power, I’d say,” Barry laughed, but it was a little strained. “But hey, it works.”

They both turned to Hal. Hal was still twirling that candy wrapper, his expression unreadable. “Well... uh... my story’s a little weirder,” he said, his voice low. “So, I got abducted by this guy, Abin Sur—an alien, apparently—and he gave me a ring. He said it was... a Green Lantern ring? Whatever that is. He told me I could use it when I was older. But I didn’t exactly wait.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. So you’re telling me you have some... alien power?”

Hal looked at them, his jaw tightening. “Kinda. The ring gives me... stuff. It lets me make things, shields, constructs, I dunno. But it’s not just a toy. I’m... kinda on the run. I don’t think they even know I have it yet.”

Barry leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Who’s they?”

“The Green Lantern Corps.” Hal grinned wryly. “It’s like some intergalactic police force or whatever. They really don’t like people using their rings before they’re chosen. But the Abin Sur guy gave me this one, so... I guess I get to decide when I’m ‘ready.’”

Arthur stared at him, trying to process it. "So, you’ve got a magic alien cop ring, and you're just... using it?"

Hal shrugged. “Kinda. But it’s not like I’ve got the training for this. I’m pretty sure they’d find me if I didn’t keep it low-key. So I hide it. But... yeah. I’ve got this power, the Corps might catch up eventually.”

There was a long pause as the three of them considered this.

Then Barry broke the silence with a snort. "Well, at least I’m not the only freak here."

Arthur smirked. “Hey, I’m not a freak. I’m... Atlantean. "

Hal rolled his eyes. “You’re not a freak either, dude. We’re all just— unique, I guess.”

Barry grinned and then slapped his hands together. “Okay, so, no one’s telling anyone about the weird powers outside this room, right?”

“Right,” Arthur said quickly. “No one gets to know.”

“Agreed,” Hal added. He grinned, his eyes brightening with mischief. “Now, let’s make sure we never get caught by any adult.”

The three of them laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of their small, dimly lit room. For once, Arthur didn’t feel so alone. He wasn’t the only one running. He wasn’t the only one hiding. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry all of this by himself.

…….They might even be able to get out of here if they stuck together.

~~~

It was laughably easy. Just a window crawl. The place wasn’t exactly high security, and the staff weren’t paid enough to care if a few kids disappeared in the middle of the night.

Arthur had been the first to slip out, bare feet silent against the cold pavement as he led the way. Hal followed, moving like he had done this before (because he had). Barry brought up the rear, the fastest of them, but the least experienced in actually sneaking out. His speed meant nothing when he tripped over a loose brick, nearly face-planting. Arthur barely caught him before he hit the ground.

“Shh,” Arthur hissed. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

Barry shot him a sheepish grin. “My bad.”

Hal rolled his eyes and gestured for them to keep moving. The city was dark, streetlights flickering above them as they ducked into an alley. They didn’t have much of a plan beyond get out, stay together, but Arthur had overheard some of the older kids talking about an old train yard on the edge of town. A perfect place to disappear.

They made it there just before dawn, slipping past the chain-link fence and weaving between rusted train cars. Arthur’s Atlantean senses made him hyper-aware of their surroundings—he could hear a rat scurrying nearby, the soft whistle of wind through the cracks in the metal. Hal was quiet, but Barry's breathing was slightly too fast, still coming down from the adrenaline of their escape.

“Alright,” Hal muttered, eyeing the empty train cars. “We need to find one of these heading out of here.”

Arthur frowned. “And how do we do that?”

Hal smirked, tapping the side of his head. “ Pilot instincts. ”

Arthur gave him a flat look. “That’s not a real thing.”

Hal ignored him and climbed onto one of the train cars, peering into the darkness. “This one’s open. Looks like it’s carrying supplies. If we’re lucky, we won’t get thrown off before we make it somewhere good.”

Barry hesitated. “And if we’re un lucky?”

Arthur was already climbing in. “We run.”

That was enough for Barry. The three of them clambered inside, making themselves as comfortable as possible in the dim, musty space.

No one came and yelled yet.

Barry grinned. “We actually did it. We’re free.”

Arthur leaned back against the wall, letting himself relax for the first time in days.

….That was when they heard the other voices.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” a boy’s voice muttered from the darkness.

Arthur tensed, his senses sharpening. Across the car, two figures with glowing eyes sat in the shadows. 

One of them had his arms crossed, watching them with sharp eyes. The other was slightly older, blonde, and was glaring at them like they were the intruders- wait, they were, technically.

“Great,” the blonde muttered. “More runaways.”

Arthur, Hal, and Barry stared back.

Hal broke the silence.

“Well,” he said, grinning. “Looks like we’re not the only ones hitching a ride.”

Chapter Text

The dark-haired boy wouldn't speak. He was smaller than the other, blonde one, who tipped his head and asked, "Who are you guys, anyway?" 

They stared at each other before they heard voices outside. 

"I swear, Carl, I saw three kids go into the yard! We gotta check!"

All five kids froze. 

Then, in a quick decision, the older blonde one grabbed all three and yanked them into the shadows. 

"Everyone get behind B!" He hissed, not giving them a chance to resist. "Bruce, do the shadowy thing!" 

The black-haired one still didn't speak, but he grinned with sharp teeth and stepped slightly in front of the others. 

Black-hair stepped forward, just slightly, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t big, wasn’t loud, but the air around him changed . The shadows stretched toward him, curling at his feet like living things. Arthur felt the temperature drop. Hal stiffened next to him. Barry’s breathing hitched.

Arthur had felt things like this before—deep in the ocean, in the trenches, where the pressure came but didn’t suffocate, and something ancient lurked just beyond sight. It wasn’t magic, not exactly. It was something else .

Outside, the voices drew closer.

“I swear, Mark, if you were imagining things again, I’m takin’ you to the doctor!”

Footsteps crunched against gravel. The beam of a flashlight swept across the train yard, bouncing off rusted metal.

Arthur didn’t move. None of them did.

Black-hair smiled . It wasn’t comforting.

The shadows thickened. Arthur swore the air itself got heavier, pressing down on them like a weighted blanket. Outside, the voices faltered.

“…You feel that?”

The other man’s voice was nervous. “What the hell—?”

Something scraped . Not against metal, not against wood—against something else . Something unseen. The air buzzed, electric with presence .

Arthur saw it happen. The flashlight beam flickered, like it was struggling to stay on. The men outside cursed. One of them stumbled back, nearly dropping the flashlight.

“I—screw this,” the first guy muttered. “It’s probably just rats.”

The second didn’t argue.

A moment later, the footsteps retreated. The light disappeared.

Silence.

Arthur exhaled.

The shadows released them. Black-hair turned back around, looking at them with his predator-sharp eyes, but the thing from before was gone. He tilted his head slightly, like a curious animal.

The blonde sighed, rubbing his face. “Okay. That was weirdly close.”

Arthur’s heart was still pounding. He looked at Black-hair, then back at the blonde. “ What the hell was that? ”

The blonde smirked. “That,” he said, slinging an arm over the other boy’s shoulders, “Was Gotham’s own cryptid child, and my little brother, Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce blinked at them, his sharp eyes tracking their every move. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand and made a little wave.

Arthur wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or more freaked out.

Chapter Text

The blonde kid introduced himself as Oliver Queen, but you can call me Ollie'.

Apparently he and Bruce's parents had known each other before Ollie's mom died and Bruce's parents died. Ollie admitted that he and his self-proclaimed little brother were technically rich kids but that they ran away a lot, which was enough to be a street kid in Hal's book. 

Ollie explained that Bruce had been born human, but Bruce's home city -Gotham- had a consciousness that 'Claimed' him when he was littler. Bruce had, at Ollie's coaxing, rolled up his sleeve and turned up his palm to show them a black Mark just above the inside of his wrist, a circle, with a flying raven in front of jagged crescent moon. 

Ollie explained that Gotham had Claimed, and Marked Bruce as Her child and made him a cryptid. Bruce had flashed his sharp teeth and tilted his head to show his pointed ears. The other three spotted clawlike nails too and they all saw the gleaming blue eyes. 

Then Ollie showed them his Mark, a black star with a leaf in the middle, for his Star City. A similar thing had happened to him, but the shadow thing had been traded for insane aim (The kid had a bow and arrows, whoo), really good tracking, and more stuff like that. 

He and Bruce both had pointed ears, sharp teeth, gleaming eyes, and claws. But they could shift out of them when they needed to. 

Ollie explained that Bruce didn't talk much in English, partially because he (And Ollie, for that matter) was a still a cub and had trouble controlling his instincts and the feral speech was now his first language, partially because of 'the incident' as Ollie called it and would not elaborate, and partially because Ollie said he was autistic. 

Arthur, Hal, and Barry all exchanged glances, absorbing the sheer weirdness of what they were being told. Arthur had already known something was off about Bruce, but hearing it laid out like this—with Marks and Claims and cryptid feral street children —was a whole different thing entirely.

Hal squinted at Bruce’s Mark, still processing. “So... you’re telling me your city just decided you were Hers and turned you into Gotham’s personal raccoon child?”

Bruce tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

Ollie snorted. “More like a raven, cat, or a bat, actually, but yeah. That about sums it up.”

Barry, ever the scientist, leaned forward to inspect the Mark. “Does it hurt?”

Bruce blinked, then shook his head.

“Do all cities do this?” Arthur asked, crossing his arms. “Like, if I lived in Atlantis full-time, would it—” He stopped, realizing his mistake. “I mean, if Atlantis were real, hypothetically.”

Bruce and Ollie both gave him a knowing look.

Hal snorted. “Dude. You smell like saltwater, you’ve got seaweed in your hair, and you breathe like a fish. If Atlantis isn’t real, then I’m a normal, perfectly average child with no cosmic contraband on my person.”

Bruce and Ollie both turned to look at him.

Hal stiffened. “...Not that I do. Obviously. ”

Ollie squinted. “Uh-huh.”

Arthur groaned. “Whatever, fine. So you guys are cryptid kids, and you both have freaky animal senses, and Hal is carrying some illegal alien artifact, and Barry gets struck by lightning recreationally —”

“I don’t do it on purpose, ” Barry muttered.

“—so that makes all of us weird as hell. Got it.”

Ollie grinned. “Yup.”

Bruce nodded once, sharp and satisfied.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. He had known these guys for less than an hour, and somehow, they were already his problem.

Chapter Text

Bruce and Ollie led them to an old abandoned building near the train yard, since the train would go in the morning. 

"We've been hiding out here lately to avoid my father," Ollie explained. "We were planning on hobo-ing it out later. You guys wanna come? I mean, I think us 'freaks' should stick together. And we can hide out at Bruce's. His guardian, Alfred, is the only trustworthy adult, and he's awesome. He kind of just lets us do this."

Arthur, Hal, and Barry exchanged looks. Running away was already the plan—they just hadn’t worked out where to.

Barry frowned. “Wait, wait, back up. Your father? You’re a runaway rich kid, but your dad is after you?”

Ollie’s easy grin flickered for a second. “Uh. Something like that.” He waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. What does matter is that it seems we’re building a squad, and you guys are officially invited.”

Hal crossed his arms. “And your butler —Alfred?—he lets you do this? Just… let's you run around like feral cryptid children?”

Bruce tilted his head slightly, then nodded.

Ollie snickered. “Yeah, pretty much. He knows we need to—y'know— get it out of our system. He covers for us.”

Arthur huffed. “Sounds like a terrible guardian.”

Bruce’s eyes flashed, and Ollie frowned. “Nah. He’s the best. Also, I'm pretty sure he’s immortal.”

Arthur held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Chill. So what’s the plan? We just keep running forever?”

Ollie smirked. “For now..”

Barry raised an eyebrow. “...What does that mean?”

Bruce’s sharp teeth flashed in something that was almost a grin.

Ollie laughed. "Bruce and I like getting the jump on criminals, sometimes, at least in Gotham and Star City." 

Hal groaned. “Great. We just met you guys, and somehow I already know this is gonna be insane.”

~~~

Alfred sighed as he looked at the not two, but five children on the underground Cave steps in front of him. 

“Master Oliver, Master Bruce, where did they come from?” He inquired. 

“Um, we ran into them on the, um, train ride,” Ollie said sheepishly. “Can they at least stay over every once in a while? Please?”
Alfred felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down at Bruce’s wide blue eyes. 

There were many things that look said, and Alfred understood them all. 

He sighed. 

“Well, I’m not one to leave children out here alone. May I ask your names, young masters?” He turned to the three new boys. Two looked 9, the other looked around 10. 

“Uh, i’m Arthur, this is Hal and Barry. We were foster kids.” The 10 year old said nervously. 

Alfred felt what was coming, but he let it. “Nice to make your acquaintance. Please step inside.”

Chapter Text

Things settled quickly for the brothers as they went between hiding at Bruce’s place and wandering the States and sometimes beyond (Don't ask how they got to Tibet and back to Florida and one week)

They dodged Atlantean patrols (Arthur's fault) hid from aliens that showed up a few times (Hal's fault) evaded search parties and cryptid hunters (Bruce and Ollie's fault) hid from cops (Everyone's fault, really, but Barry did steal a lot) and avoided adults that saw too much. 

Bruce eventually calmed down around the other three enough to talk in English around them, but soon they began to decipher the low clicks and whistles, hisses, growls, purrs, and other noises that he and Ollie made. 

The feral language—what Barry called ‘ Cryptid Speak ’—became second nature after a while. It wasn’t even that weird anymore when Bruce growled low in his throat in warning or when Ollie’s ears twitched at something only he could hear. They all just got it.

And somehow, without ever saying it, they all agreed—this was it. They were brothers .

Arthur grumbled about ‘having to be the only one with actual water instincts,’ but he always made sure they camped near a lake or river when they could. Hal whined that ‘being an intergalactic fugitive shouldn’t be this boring, ’ but he always made constructs to help when they needed something. Barry complained that ‘you people don’t even know how to properly steal food,’ but he always made sure they got away

They were a mess. A disaster crew of cryptid, mutant, magic, and alien-adjacent kids.

But they were theirs.

And no one—not the Atlanteans, not the Green Lantern Corps, not the cops, not the so-called ‘safe adults’ looking for them—was gonna take that away.

And yeah, turned out the whole ‘jumping criminals and traffickers and actual bad people’ was waaaaayy more satisfying and fun than they’d thought. And dodging the occasional government-adjacent agency and blowing up their facilities (by accident) without being identified was fun too. 

It was a chaotic life, but it was theirs.

They stole food from corner stores and outran security guards. They snuck onto trains and hid in the shadows when cops passed by. They scouted for safe places to crash—abandoned buildings, sewer tunnels, rooftops—anywhere that wasn’t crawling with people who wanted to ‘help.’

They didn’t need help.

They had each other.

Bruce and Ollie taught them how to be ghosts —how to slip through the cracks, fade into the background, become nothing but whispers and shadows.

Hal was their getaway driver, even without an actual car (yes, yes, Hal could drive. And fly a plane. No one knew when he'd learned.). His ring was somehow working in harmony with his willpower already, and lit up just enough when they needed it.

Arthur was the muscle. The one who could take a punch and give it back twice as hard. If the ocean was near, he was practically unstoppable.

Barry was their scout. Their supply runner. Their last-resort distraction. No one could catch what they couldn’t even see.

It worked. It worked.

....Until the day where, one time, it didn’t.

Chapter Text

One night, they were carefully hiding out in a cave near the coast, a small hidden spot with a small saltwater stream in it.

Bruce, who'd gone scouting on a whim, came bolting in, paler than usual with his eyes blazing and ears flattened. He made a low whining noise that they recognized as scared-scared-danger-hunted-scared .

Ollie quickly grabbed the younger's shoulders and looked him in the eyes, cryptid telepathy at play incoming.
Bruce made some vague hand gestures and whines. When he was stressed, it was harder for the others to understand, but Ollie was cryptid too.

Ollie gasped and gulped. "He says he saw an Atlantean patrol outside. They're probably here for Arthur, someone must've seen him in the water and realized what he was. he says that they've already blocked up the exits, and they're comi-" 

A trident splashed out of the water. 

"Get the wayward half-blood mongrel! And nab the little surface dwellers too, they've been seen with him before!" Arthur heard a loud yell, speaking in the Atlantean language.  

If they'd been somewhere else, even just the coast, they might've made it, but unfortunately, they were in a semi-underwater cave, and these full-blooded Atlanteans were in their element. And at the end of the day, the five were still kids. And outnumbered. 

Arthur barely had time to snarl before the cave erupted into chaos.

The water surged as armored Atlanteans lunged forward, their tridents gleaming in the dim light.

Bruce and Ollie vanished —a flicker of movement, a shift of shadows. They were there one second and gone the next. But Arthur could sense them, hanging back, waiting for an opening.

Barry tried to run , but the cave was too cramped, the terrain too uneven. He was fast—he was always fast—but this time, not fast enough. An Atlantean snapped out a hand, catching the back of his shirt. Barry yelled , thrashing, but the soldier yanked him back with inhuman strength.

Hal yelled and swung, throwing a wild punch at the nearest soldier. The man barely flinched. A gauntleted fist slammed into Hal’s stomach, sending him sprawling into the shallow stream with a gasping wheeze.

Arthur barely noticed.

Because suddenly they were grabbing him — strong hands locking onto his arms, forcing him down. He fought, kicked, scratched, bit, and twisted—but they were older, stronger, trained.

One of them grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up.

“You should’ve never left the ocean, half-breed,” the soldier sneered, his grip bruising. “Did you really think you could hide ?”

Arthur snarled  and spat right in his face.

The soldier hissed and backhanded him hard enough to make his ears ring.

“Secure the others,” another one barked. “The Council will want to question them.”

Arthur struggled, but the hands on him only tightened.

They were trapped.

-

Ollie and Bruce got nabbed from the shadows (only after a lot of biting and inhumane screeching). Hal was knocked out and slung over one's shoulder. Barry was somehow being restrained. 

"Let them go -" Arthur hissed in Atlantean at the patrol captain. "They- they don't anything to do with- they're not Atlantean, they can't breathe underwater- " 

The captain snarled back and pointed at a submarine thing. 

"You don't think we know that? You've been spotted with them more than once." He growled back in the same tongue. 

"Arthur WHAT IS HE SAYING-" Barry yelped as one guard clamped a hand over his mouth to silence him. 

Arthur snarled and bit. 

First they try to either capture or kill, then just kill, now back to capture? And they took his brothers too? For what? Questioning? 

He didn't get a say, though. All five were tossed in some kind of sub with no way out. They were being taken to Atlantis.

Chapter Text

Arthur groggily blinked his eyes open, disoriented by the feeling of water pressing in from all sides. The dim blue-green glow of bioluminescent panels cast eerie shadows across the metal walls of the sub.

He wasn’t alone.

The others were still there, though in bad shape.

Hal was still slumped in the corner, unconscious. Barry looked disoriented, shivering as he clung to the wall, his breaths too quick. Ollie and Bruce sat close together, both glaring daggers at the Atlantean guards outside the reinforced glass. Bruce's lip was split, and Ollie’s arm had fresh, raw scratches—probably from fighting until the last second.

Arthur pushed himself up, muscles screaming, and immediately realized something was wrong.

The water felt off around him.

He reached out, trying to feel the currents, the sea life outside, anything. But there was a weight, a pressure, something muffling his senses.

“What the hell did they do to me?” he rasped.

“They shackled you,” Bruce said, his voice hoarse but steady. He gestured to Arthur’s wrists. Arthur looked down and froze.

Metal cuffs.

They glowed faintly with unfamiliar runes, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Magic. Atlantean magic.

Arthur’s stomach dropped.

He could still feel the ocean but not call it.

And couldn’t talk to the sea creatures outside without the guards noticing either…..

His powers were dulled .

“Arthur?” Barry’s voice was small, uncertain. “Where are they taking us?”

Arthur clenched his jaw. He already knew.

“Atlantis.”

-

They were suddenly grabbed and tossed out into an underwater cave (With oxygen, thank god) in front of.... Arthur was sure that it was the king Orvax and father of his half-brother, Orm, that he'd heard about. 

Technically his... step-father? 

Yeeesh. 

He could feel the other scramble behind him and gulped. 

He knew Atlanteans had an honor code. They wouldn't kill a bunch of kids, right? Then why were they here? Arthur knew he was probably either seen as wayward or a threat, but his brothers? They had only been seen with him so…..

What did they want? Didn't they already know he was avoiding them? Sure, he was half-Atlantean but he was a half-blood. 

And his friends, (AS FAR AS THE ATLANTEANS KNEW) were kid humans. 

Kids, yeah, that suspiciously were seen everywhere and never with an adult, and were suspiciously thin and feral and all, and maybe Atlantean intelligence had gotten the memo that Arthur's human father was gone but….

Arthur didn’t trust Atlantean honor codes.

He had grown up on the surface, seen what “honor” meant in the hands of powerful men. It was just another way to justify doing whatever the hell they wanted.

King Orvax stood before them, his expression unreadable, arms folded as he studied them like they were things to be categorized.

Arthur instinctively widened his stance, placing himself between Orvax and his brothers. He could feel Hal (now awake) shifting behind him, heard Barry shift closer to Ollie and Bruce, felt the tension in their breathing.

Orvax’s gaze swept over them, lingering on Arthur before flicking to the others. His lip curled slightly.

“These are the ones?” His voice was deep, cold, and dismissive.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the captain who had taken them answered. “The half-blood and his… pack. ”

Arthur bristled.

Bruce hissed.

Arthur swallowed and was wondering how to get out of this when he felt one of the guards grab him by the scruff and yank him away from his brothers. Ollie snarled and Bruce hissed, Hal froze and Barry went still, but in a second Arthur was plopped down right at his.... step-father(?)'s feet.

Chapter Text

Arthur had been in some really bad situations before. Being grabbed by the scruff like an unruly pup and dumped at the feet of a king who very well might want him dead?

Yeah, this was a new one.

Arthur forced himself not to flinch as he hit the stone floor, glaring up at Orvax. He could feel his brothers behind him—Hal still groggy, Barry buzzing with anxiety, Bruce tense and coiled like a feral cat ready to bite, and Ollie—Ollie, whose sharp eyes were darting around, looking for a way out.

They were all on edge, all ready for something bad to happen. Because that was what happened. People like them—thin, scrappy, half-wild, and never with an adult—didn’t get helped. They got hunted.

Orvax studied Arthur for a long moment before his eyes flickered back to the others.

“These are his companions? ” he asked, sounding unimpressed.

A few of the guards hesitated. Arthur didn’t miss the way their eyes lingered on his brothers— assessing, frowning slightly.

Bruce’s skin was pale, almost translucent under the harsh Atlantean lighting. His lips pressed into a thin line, ears still half-flattened in a way that looked more animal than human.

Ollie’s sharp green eyes were locked onto Arthur, flickering every so often toward the guards. He wasn’t blinking much. Was that normal?

Hal, still sluggish from whatever they’d hit him with, was tense, like he was forcing himself to stay still. His fingers twitched, curling in like claws.

And Barry—Barry was shaking. Vibrating so fast the edges of him almost blurred. The guards near him shifted uneasily, clearly wondering if this was normal, if he was going to explode.

These weren’t normal surface children.

They looked like ferals.

Orvax’s gaze flickered with something unreadable. He turned to the nearest guard.

“Where did you say you found them?”

The guard hesitated. “Near the coast, Your Majesty. In a cave.”

Orvax frowned slightly.

“Alone? With no adult?”

Silence.

Arthur’s stomach twisted.

There was something in Orvax’s expression—something sharp and assessing. Like he was trying to figure them out.

Orvax finally snarled after a few minutes. “Put them in a cell. I will meet with the Council on this.”

—-

They were kept in the cave for a few days before Arthur managed to stick his hand out through a small hole to the open ocean and call his dolphin friends. 

Atlanteans were technically in harmony with a lot of sea creatures, but they couldn't speak or understand their tongue. For some reason, Arthur could, and he had buddies all over the seven seas. 

-

Arthur had been counting the days. He wasn’t exactly sure what Orvax’s plan was, but he knew one thing— they had to get out of here.

The cave was… not the worst. The guards kept their distance, and this healer lady checked in every so often, but they still felt trapped. There was an air pocket where Hal, Barry, Ollie, and Bruce could breathe freely, and they’d set up a rough sort of camp there. But the walls felt like they were closing in, and the water pressure was a constant reminder that they were deep underwater, far from land.

Arthur spent hours testing every crack, every crevice. Finally, he found it—a small hole, barely big enough to fit his hand through, that led out into the open ocean.

He knelt beside it, pressing his palm through the cold stone hole and closing his eyes. Concentrating.

A few moments passed before he felt it—a flicker of recognition, a warm, familiar presence.

“Hey, guys,” he whispered. “Need a favor.”

Within minutes, he heard them—a series of soft clicks and whistles echoing back to him. A pod of dolphins, his old friends, always nearby, always curious. They were thrilled to hear from him and even more excited when he explained their situation.

“Help us find a way out,” he whispered urgently. “Keep an eye out for any openings, anything we can use. And if you see any patrols, distract them, okay?”

The dolphins responded eagerly, promising to do what they could.

Arthur pulled his hand back, heart pounding. He turned to the others, who had been watching him silently.

“I’ve got friends outside,” he said quietly. “They’ll help us find a way out. We just need to stay alert.”

Ollie gave a slow, approving nod. “Good. We’re getting out of here.”

Barry, still vibrating with nervous energy, nodded quickly. “Yeah, let’s just… let’s go. I’m done with this fish tank.”

Hal grinned, rolling his shoulders. “I’m in. Let’s make some waves.”

Bruce’s eyes gleamed with that feral light, his lips pulling back in a sharp, toothy smile. He didn’t need to say anything—they all knew he was ready.

Arthur took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter. They had a plan. A flimsy one, sure, but it was better than nothing. They’d been running and surviving on scraps and shadows for years.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just another challenge.

“Alright,” Arthur murmured, determination settling in his chest. “Let’s get out of here.”

They huddled closer together, whispering plans, while Arthur’s dolphin friends swam just beyond the cave, searching for their chance.

Chapter Text

The plan went off almost perfectly.

The dolphins were quick, clever, and loved a good game— so when Arthur asked them to cause a distraction, they went all in. Half the pod started zooming past the guards, clicking and chattering, nudging weapons, knocking things over, even straight-up slapping a couple of Atlanteans with their tails.

The guards were not amused.

Meanwhile, two of the smartest dolphins slipped through the opening Arthur had found and into the cave.

Arthur barely had time to whisper a quick, “Go, go, go!” before they were all scrambling into the water.

It was terrifying.

For a few seconds, they were completely surrounded by cold, deep water, nothing but the glow of the sub behind them. Ollie gritted his teeth, resisting the instinct to shift back into cryptid mode where he could breathe a little better. Bruce clung tightly to the dolphin’s fin, not enjoying the way the ocean surrounded him from every angle. Hal had his ring flare up just enough to make a protective air bubble around his head, while Barry kept his mouth tightly shut to avoid swallowing seawater at high speed.

Arthur, meanwhile, took a deep breath through his gills and did his best to make sure they didn’t die, trying to speed them up with currents as fast as he could. Hal’s ring bubble spread t give an oxygen bubble, too, for a short part. 

The dolphins shot forward, slicing through the water with incredible speed. Each of the boys gripped onto a fin, holding on for dear life. As they reached the Sunlight Zone, Arthur swam alongside them, using his powers to create a sort of pressure barrier around them to make it easier to breathe and move.

They zipped past the reef, weaving between coral structures and enormous sea creatures. Arthur could feel the ocean responding to him, pushing them forward, helping them escape.

Then—alarms started blaring.

They’d been spotted.

Arthur gritted his teeth, pushing harder. The dolphins squealed in alarm as Atlantean soldiers started after them, tridents glowing in the water.

“We’re almost there!” Arthur yelled, voice distorted in the water.

Bruce’s grip was slipping, and Ollie grabbed him, yanking him closer. Barry was barely keeping his eyes open, and Hal’s ring was starting to flicker.

The surface was just ahead.

“ Hold on! ” Arthur shouted.

The dolphins gave one last, massive push—and then they broke through.

Air. Air.

They gasped, sputtering as they hit the surface, the moon high above them.

Luckily Hal's ring came in handy again. All hail the containment bubble that also served as a shield. 

Once they were inland, they hightailed it to Gotham. Hiding out at Bruce's -Wayne Manor, where the only adult was trustworthy Alfred- was a good idea. 

By the time they finally made it to Gotham's sewers, they were cold, exhausted, and covered in seawater. Arthur was still damp, sand stuck to his skin. Hal looked half-dead. Barry was vibrating, a mixture of panic and exhaustion. Ollie was keeping a wary eye on Bruce, who was moving stiffly, his usually pale skin even lighter than normal.

Wayne Manor was the best place. 

Bruce led them through the hidden entrance, a half-broken side door only he knew about. The second they stepped inside, warmth surrounded them, the scent of old books and faintly lingering tea filling the air.

For a moment, none of them moved.

Then—

“Good heavens.”

Alfred stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

The five of them looked like absolute wrecks.

Sopping wet, bruised, scraped up, shivering—and clearly running on empty.

Alfred sighed, long-suffering but not unkind. “I will not ask where you’ve been, but I will insist that you take a bath, eat a proper meal, and sleep in actual beds.”

Bruce opened his mouth—

“ No arguments. ”

And that was that.

Chapter Text

After the whole Atlantean escape, they got better at evading the patrols.
They even had a little fun with it, occasionally pranking the patrols or getting into fights if they hurt any animals. 

….Then there was the whole thing with the Green Lantern Corps. 

The Corps didn't know who Abin Sur gave his ring to, but they knew it was still on Earth and were looking for it. 

Just the five's luck they ran into patrols here and now. So they hid like hell, had shenanigans, the whole deal. 

Luckily, the Corps hadn't yet considered the idea that Abin Sur had given a human child the ring or that said human child was running around wild with four other equally not-normal children.

They had no freaking idea and it was hilarious.

—

The five had a system now.

Whenever an Atlantean patrol showed up, they either ran, Arthur called a distraction—dolphins, sharks, or whatever was around, or they hid like hell. If it was the Lanterns, they scattered and hid like cockroaches in a kitchen when the lights flicked on.

Sometimes, It was fun.

Like, really fun.

Ducking behind crates, sneaking through alleyways, throwing pebbles to distract highly trained alien warriors—pure chaos.

Hal, the actual fugitive among them, was still somehow the most reckless. “They never expect the kid,” he’d said once, grinning as he zipped across a rooftop in a glow-green bubble.

And the Green Lanterns didn’t expect the kid. They’d barely considered that a ring might be on Earth at all, let alone stuck on the finger of a nine-year-old street rat.

Which was wild, considering Hal was so bad at keeping it low-key.

(“Hal, I swear to every god that exists, if you make one more glowing construct when we're trying to hide-”

“Oh, come on, Ollie! I’m just—”

“PUT OUT THE GREEN LIGHT, HAL.”)

Luckily, they hadn’t been caught.

However, they had had close calls. 

One such night, they thought they were safe.

The building was abandoned, tucked away on the edge of Gotham, far from prying eyes. The floors were creaky and covered in dust, but it was quiet—peaceful.

The brothers were all flopped down in a dogpile, both a way to conserve heat and keep comfort. Bruce was twitching, and Barry was vibrating a bit, but they were all out. Completely dead to the world.

Arthur was the first to wake up. It wasn’t the usual quiet or the sounds of their gentle breathing that snapped him from his slumber, but something else . The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. A subtle shift in the air. It was hard to explain, but something about the room felt… different.

A small groan escaped Barry, and he stirred slightly. Arthur held his breath.

The hairs on his arms stood up.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through the building.

Arthur shot to his feet, adrenaline kicking in, his senses sharp. He knew the sound. Footsteps . Heavy ones.

"Guys," he hissed urgently, nudging Hal. Hal groaned, his eyes fluttering open.

"What’s up?" Hal whispered groggily, instinctively reaching for his ring.

Arthur held his hand up, silencing him. "Someone’s here."

At that exact moment, Bruce’s eyes snapped open, and Ollie, still half-dazed, grunted and shook his head, slowly coming to his senses.

They were not alone.

The sound of boots hitting the old wood echoed through the room, heavier now—more deliberate.

"Stay low, stay quiet," Arthur muttered. They all crouched, pressing against whatever cover they could find.

The footsteps grew louder, and before any of them could prepare for what was coming next, a figure stepped into the room.

It was an alien soldier in full tactical gear—black armor with a green insignia shining faintly under the dim light. The helmet covered their face, but the stance was unmistakable. Green Lantern.

Hal’s heart skipped a beat.

A second soldier appeared behind the first, and then another. Three Green Lanterns, far too many for them to handle without causing a scene.

They were surrounded.

All five street kids quickly huddled together, subtly shoving Hal behind them. They knew the Corps didn't know who Abin Sur gave his ring, but they still knew it was still on Earth. 

Hal had made sure to destroy his ring's tracker and turn off the glow unless he needed it. And not make a construct in front of a Lantern. 

So as far as these Lanterns knew, this was just five small human children sleeping in an abandoned building…… they really checked everywhere, didn’t they?

One alien hesitantly approached.

All five kids darted backwards and huddled in the corner. Bruce hissed and covered his eyes as the bright lights from the Corps’ rings pointed at them. Hal shoved his hand in his pocket, pushed his ring off, and took his hand out so it was hidden there. Ollie shoved all the others behind him and Arthur, and Barry started vibrating the way he did when he was stressed enough. 

The Green Lanterns paused for a moment, clearly not expecting the reaction they were getting. Five scrawny kids, all thin, feral, and visibly on edge. One was hissing , another was vibrating , and the blonde with slightly burning glowing eyes in front was standing like he was about to bite them if they took another step.

They weren’t just scared. They were like cornered animals .

The first Lantern, a tall alien with gray-blue skin and sharp, angular features, narrowed his eyes at the scene. “We don’t want trouble, little ones,” he said, keeping his voice even. “We’re looking for something. If you tell us what you know, we’ll leave you alone.”

Ollie bared his teeth. “We- we don’t know anything.” His voice was firm, but his stance was tense, ready to move at any second. Fully pulling off the ‘street child that is so confused but trying’ act. 

Barry was still vibrating, his breath short and sharp, his muscles coiled. Arthur's fingers twitched as he fought every instinct screaming at him to call on the ocean for help. Bruce had gone utterly still except for the occasional twitch of his fingers against his leg— ready to claw someone’s face off if necessary.

Hal swallowed hard but forced himself to stay neutral. His ring was off, buried in the depths of his pocket, but the Corps had scanners. If they got too close, they’d detect it.

The second Lantern, a bulkier alien with orange skin and a thick, ridged brow, crossed his arms. "You kids live here?" His tone was suspicious now.

Bart scoffed before he could stop himself. "Yeah, totally. We just love mold and crumbling walls. Cozy as hell."

Bruce elbowed him sharply.

The first Lantern exhaled, clearly trying to be patient. "Listen. We’re not here for you. But we know something of great importance is on this planet, and this location was flagged as a potential—"

"Yeah, well, whatever you're looking for, it ain't here," Ollie snapped.

The Lanterns exchanged a look. The ‘these frightened kids are really willing to be left alone,’ look.

"You sure about that?" The second Lantern stepped forward, eyes locked on Hal.

Hal’s grip on his pocket tightened. Don't react. Don't react.

Bruce's breath hitched, but he caught himself. Barry and Arthur tensed further, their shoulders locking up.

The first Lantern’s ring flared, casting a scan over the room. The five held their breath, praying to whatever force existed that Hal’s little trick had worked.

The scan beeped once. Twice.

Then—

“...No readings.” The Lantern frowned. “Nothing here.”

Hal almost collapsed in relief, but he bit his tongue.

Arthur let out a slow breath through his nose. Barry's vibrating slowed to something more manageable. Ollie didn't move, just kept his stance firm.

Bruce, still squinting against the glow, let out a quiet, barely audible, “Go away, Outsider.”

The Lanterns hesitated, but the first one finally sighed. “Fine. But if you see anything- or— or anyone —with something glowing green, let us know. And don’t tell anyone you saw us. little ones!”

"Yeah, yeah, alien creeps," Ollie muttered, nodding quickly.

The Lanterns lingered a moment longer, then—finally—floated backward and exited the building.

They waited.

A minute.

Then five.

Then ten.

Only when they were sure the Lanterns were gone did Hal let out a breath and yank the ring from his pocket, clutching it tight in his fist.

Arthur whistled, long and slow. “That was way too close.”

“Yeah,” Hal said, still staring at the ring. “Way too close.”

Chapter Text

They had wandered really far.

Ollie had been the one to suggest going into the forest, mostly to lay low after the Lantern encounter. Too many patrols in the city. Too many close calls. A change of scenery would do them good, and besides, cities were exhausting .

They weren’t worried about survival—they’d done just fine on the streets, after all. A forest was just a different kind of jungle. And they had done it many times before

But they hadn't accounted for the bear.

It had come out of nowhere, massive and hulking, fur bristling as it lumbered forward with a guttural growl.

Barry had frozen. Hal had immediately reached for his ring but caught himself before using it. Bruce and Ollie had gone full cryptid mode—teeth bared, eyes glowing, ears pointed. Arthur had instinctively reached for the water nearby, but a forest didn't offer much in that department.

Ollie growled low, trying to communicate that they weren’t a threat, but the bear roared and lumbered closer, clearly enraged by something and trying to take it out on the boys. If Ollie’s ose was anything to go by, the bear smelled like it had somehow escaped hunters, with gun oil, bullet scent, and blood in the air. 

"Nobody move ," Arthur hissed, slowly stepping back. "Maybe it'll back off—"

The bear did not back off.

It reared up with a deafening roar, claws flashing—

Then, a blur.

A gust of wind that wasn’t Barry.

And suddenly, a boy stood between them and the bear.

He was tall, broad for his age, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and somehow looked both incredibly non-threatening and completely unshakable at the same time. He made some bear-like sounds. 

The bear paused . Lowered itself onto all-fours. Sniffed. Whuffed softly. 

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it turned and lumbered away , as if deciding this wasn’t worth the effort.

The five stared, still tensed to fight or flee.

The boy turned to them, blinking. "You guys okay?"

A long beat of silence.

Then—

"Who the hell are you ?" Ollie blurted, still halfway crouched like he was ready to pounce.

The boy hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh. Clark. Clark Kent. AKA Kal-El."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "How did you—?"

" What did you—?" Barry started, before realizing he didn’t actually know what he was asking.

Clark shifted awkwardly. "...I just kinda talked to it. I have this… understanding? With animals sometimes."

Bruce, who had yet to say anything, stared at him with the intensity of someone mentally dissecting every movement Clark made. "...Talked to it."

Clark nodded, a little sheepish. "Yeah. Bears don't usually attack unless they're scared or protecting something. I just... let it know we weren't a threat. I know their noises, so I imitate them to commune sometimes…"

Ollie crossed his arms. "Huh. And it just listened ?"

Clark shrugged. "Guess so."

A pause.

Then Hal, ever the smooth talker, blurted, "Are you a cryptid?"

Clark blinked. "...Am I a what ?"

Barry, despite everything, snorted .

Arthur squinted. "...You're not from around here, are you?"

Clark hesitated. "...Kinda? I live in Smallville. Not too far from here."

The five exchanged glances, instantly communicating in the way only they could. Smallville. Small town. Not much security. Probably safe for a bit.

Ollie tilted his head. "...You got a place?"

Clark blinked again, then nodded. "Yeah. My folks have a farm. Why?"

Arthur sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, so—hypothetically—how would they feel about five possibly feral kids crashing the barn for a while?"

Clark just grinned.

"Well," he said, "I think they'd be real glad you found me first, 'cause if Ma saw you out here by yourselves, she'd drag you home herself ."

Chapter Text

The boy, who was about Arthur's and Ollie’s age, introduced himself as Clark Kent, or Kal-El.

He explained that he was a literal alien, a Kryptonian that was sent here as his race went pretty much extinct. He vaguely remembered his parents and Krypton, and instinctively knew things about it, and the language and all, 

He also vaguely remembered a cousin whom he'd gotten separated from when they were sent to Earth. 

Ollie, in turn, introduced himself and the others. 

"That one's Arthur. he's half-Atlantean so he has water powers and can talk to sea animals, Hal is the one with the green hoodie, he got abducted by a dying alien and given a magic ring that can do stuff, and Barry, the vibrating kid, was struck by lightning and gained super speed. 

"I'm Ollie, i got Claimed by Star City's consciousness so I'm a cryptid and I have these feral instincts, and senses, and my aim is really good and stuff. And the little guy’s Bruce, he doesn't talk. He got Claimed by Gotham's spirit like I was by SC and now he's also a cryptid, but he is basically a living shadow-bat-cryptid. We call him Batboy, I’m the Arrowkid, Hal is just 'Green' because… he didn’t like the other ideas Barry had, Arthur, we say Aquaboy because….. Yes, and Barry is Flash. We’re gonna change them when we’re older, probably. But yeah, we're brothers."

Clark took all of this in with a surprisingly calm expression. He didn’t look freaked out. He didn’t call them crazy. He just nodded like this was all perfectly reasonable.

"Neat," he said. "So, like... Gotham and Star City just, picked you?"

Ollie shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much."

Clark tilted his head. "So does that mean you’re, like, the soul of the city?"

Bruce twitched slightly at the phrasing.

"...Something like that," Ollie said, side-eyeing Bruce, who still hadn't said a word. "They don’t really explain how it works. More like the city spirits adopted us and we have a bond with them."

"Yeah, that tracks," Clark said.

The group stared at him.

" You took that well," Barry muttered.

Clark blinked. "Why wouldn’t I?"

"Because that’s not normal, " Hal said, exasperated.

Clark grinned. "Neither am I."

Barry groaned and flopped backward onto the ground. "Great. Another one."

Arthur crossed his arms. "So. You’re an alien."

Clark nodded.

"And you’re also a weird nature kid."

Clark nodded again.

Arthur exhaled. "Alright. Fine. We have a new weirdo."

Clark beamed. "Nice! You guys wanna come home with me?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly. "You sure your parents won’t mind?"

Clark shook his head. "Nah. Ma loves taking care of people. And Pa—well, he might grumble, but he’ll help."

Hal frowned. "...They’re okay with you being an alien?"

Clark hesitated, then nodded. "...Yeah. They’re my parents. They love me."

The group collectively exchanged glances.

" Weird, " Barry whispered.

" Super weird," Arthur agreed.

Clark frowned. "...What?"

Ollie coughed. "N- nothing. Just—uh, yeah. Let’s go to your place."

Clark’s confused expression lingered, but he let it go, turning toward the direction of his home. "Come on, then! It’s not far."

And just like that, Clark Kent—alien farm boy, bear whisperer, and apparent magnet for other weird kids—led his new, semi-feral, superpowered friends home.

Martha Kent had seen a lot of strange things since she and Jonathan found Clark. Raising an alien kid came with its fair share of surprises.

But this? This was new.

Clark had run off into the woods earlier, which wasn’t all that unusual—he did that sometimes, especially when he was restless. But when he came back, he wasn’t alone.

He had five other kids trailing behind him, looking every bit like a pack of half-wild, underfed strays who had been surviving off sheer spite and bad luck.

Jonathan, standing beside her on the porch, squinted at the approaching group. “Uh. Clark?”

Clark grinned, stopping a few feet from them. “Hey, Ma! Hey, Pa! Can they stay the night?”

Martha opened her mouth. Closed it. Slowly took in the state of Clark’s new friends.

One was literally vibrating with anxiety. Another—wearing a green hoodie—had a layer of dirt so thick it looked like he hadn’t seen a proper bath in weeks. The tall bline one was staring intently at the pond like he expected it to start talking to him.

The other blond kid, Ollie, had a sharp grin and sharper teeth, and the smallest one—Bruce—stood slightly apart from the others, eerily still, eyes sharp and calculating. Too pale. Too quiet.

Martha immediately felt a deep concern settle in her bones.

She folded her arms. “Clark,” she said, very gently, “where did you find them?”

Clark shifted slightly. “Uh. In the woods.”

Jonathan sighed. “Son.”

Clark bit his lip. “…They kinda live by wandering around alone?”

Martha barely managed to keep her expression neutral. " Live ?”

The boys exchanged glances.

Ollie gave a careless shrug, but she noticed how he subtly stepped in front of Bruce. “We get by. Bruce’s, um, legal guardian lets us stay at his place but we like running off sometimes. Before him we got really used to running around.”

Martha felt her heart ache.

No child should say something like that so casually.

Jonathan exhaled through his nose. “Alright. You kids eaten today?”

Silence.

A few exchanged glances.

Arthur muttered, “Define ‘today.’”

Martha gave Jonathan a look before clapping her hands together. “Well, we’re fixing that right now. And you are not sleeping in the barn.”

Bruce’s expression twitched—maybe toward a frown, maybe toward a smirk, Martha couldn’t tell—but he did step a little closer to Ollie.

Barry hesitated. “Uh. We don’t—”

Martha cut him off with a warm smile. “Hush, sweetheart. Come inside. You all need a good meal and a bath.”

The boys hesitated for a second longer—clearly unused to kindness from strangers—but one by one, they shuffled toward the house.

Clark beamed.

Jonathan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Martha, we just inherited five more kids, didn’t we?”

Martha patted his arm. “You knew what you were signing up for when we found Clark.”

Jonathan exhaled. “I was hoping to work my way up to this many.”

Chapter Text

Oliver, AKA Ollie, turned out to be 10 and half, and Arthur was 10, Clark's age. Hal and Barry were 9, and Bruce was 8. Jeez, he was small for his age. 

Ollie also turned out to be the best explainer. 

"My dad's actually a rich guy in SC but after mom died when I was little, he was real douchebag and ignored me most of the time, and when he remembers me he yells a lot so I run away a lot. Every few months, he catches me, and I run away again.

"My city has this consciousness, actually, all cities and areas have them, just most can't sense them that much, but Star City, He Changed me and made me a cryptid cub, Claimed me as His child. That's why my aim is so good and my ears are pointed and my teeth are sharp and my eyes glow. 

"Hal is technically a normal human, just his folks died in a plane crash when he was little, and he was a foster kid. Then some dying alien named Abin Sur sort of kidnapped him and gave him this magic ring thing. He can do stuff with it. 

"Barry is also a foster kid. His mom died. He got struck by lightning and now he can run really really fast. He vibrates when he's scared or mad or something like that, and he just functions faster than other people. 

"Arthur's dad was a human lighthouse keeper, and his mom was an Atlantean princess. Atlantis is real, you know that? She wasn't allowed to leave, but she escaped and had him, but the royals came to get her, so she had to leave to keep him safe. But then his dad died, and he went to foster care. He met Barry and Hal there, and they ran away. That was when they hid in a train car and met me and Bruce. We stuck together after that. 

"Bruce's folks knew mine, and they're from Gotham. When Bruce was four and I was seven, his parents were uh..... What was the word my mom used? murdered? Yeah, I think it was that. In front of him in an alley. That was when Gotham Marked him. She Claimed him as Her child. 

"He's a cryptid cub like me, but he doesn't talk because cryptid speech is now our first language and he's autistic anyway. He was really messed up after Uncle Thomas and Aunt Martha -you know his mom had the same name as you?-  died. Me and Alfred almost had to force-feed him those days.

"Oh yeah, Alfred. B's parents were richites too, Alfred's the butler. He's technically Bruce's guardian, but he can't exactly control us five so we run around a lot but we hide at Bruce's a lot and Alfred's the boss. We’re pretty sure he’s immortal."

Martha and Jonathan Kent had always considered themselves steady folks. They’d raised an alien kid, after all. Not much rattled them these days.

But this ?

This was rattling them. A lot.

Ollie sat on their couch like he owned it, swinging his legs as he casually explained the worst possible childhoods they’d ever heard in the same tone a kid might use to talk about baseball.

Martha’s hands were clenched so tightly in her lap that her nails dug into her palms. Jonathan, sitting beside her, was staring blankly ahead, his mouth slightly open, as if his brain had blue-screened.

" Murdered ?" Martha echoed weakly, latching onto the worst part of that rundown. “Bruce witnessed his parents’ murder at four years old?”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah. In an alley. Gotham Marked him that night, too. He’s one of Hers now.”

Martha felt sick.

Jonathan exhaled, long and slow. “Oliver… how long have you all been living on your own?”

Ollie shrugged. “A few years? I mean, Bruce had Alfred at first, but then I started running away, and he wanted to come with me, and then we picked up the others, and—”

Martha stood so abruptly that her chair scraped against the floor. " You are children! ”

Ollie flinched at the sudden movement and then blinked. “Yeah?”

" You should not be alone! " Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth, trying to steady herself. Jonathan gently placed a hand on her back, his own face drawn with barely concealed horror.

Barry was still vibrating, but now it seemed like he was trying to sink into the couch . Arthur’s jaw was tight, Hal was looking at anything but them, and Bruce… Bruce was perfectly still, watching them with unblinking eyes.

Clark, their wonderful, compassionate son, sat beside Bruce and casually draped an arm around his shoulders, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Bruce didn’t react, but he also didn’t move away.

Martha took a deep breath. “None of you— none of you —should have had to go through that.”

Ollie just shrugged again. “We do okay.”

Jonathan ran a hand down his face. “Alright, kids, listen. You’re staying here tonight, no arguments . And tomorrow? We’re figuring things out.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Hal’s shoulders tensed. “You’re not turning us in, are you?”

Martha softened, stepping forward. “No, sweetheart, we just want to help. You deserve safety. You deserve a home.”

Hal scoffed, but it wasn’t meant—just tired. “We don’t really… do homes.”

Barry nodded silently. Arthur glanced toward the window, gaze distant.

Jonathan huffed. “Well, you do now. We got food, beds, and running water, and you’re all gonna use them .”

Silence.

Then, quietly—so quietly it almost wasn’t heard—Barry mumbled, “...Okay.”

Martha’s breath caught.

Clark beamed.

Ollie grinned. “Neat. Got any pie?”

Chapter Text

Martha and Jonathan took everything in stride—or at least, they tried to.

They didn’t comment when Bruce disappeared into Ollie’s shadow, silent and watchful with only white eyes peering at them from it. They didn’t react (too much) when Hal started rattling off the make and model of every single plane he’d ever seen. They nodded along when Barry kept bouncing from topic to topic like a radio stuck on scan mode.

They did, however, stare when Ollie picked up a walnut from the counter, flicked it across the room without looking, and hit a fly midair .

Martha slowly turned to Jonathan.

Jonathan slowly turned to Clark.

Clark, with the biggest, proudest grin, just said, “ Isn’t that so cool? ”

Martha pinched the bridge of her nose.

At least the bath situation had been easy. They were too exhausted to argue about it. Barry kept vibrating even while brushing his teeth, Arthur muttered something about city water being worse , and Hal complained about the smell of soap like he’d been personally offended by it.

Then there was Bruce.

Bruce, who did not react when Clark placed a towel over his head. Bruce, who somehow made himself even smaller when Martha gently steered him toward the tub. Bruce, who flinched ever so slightly when water was poured over his head but made no sound.

Ollie was the one who finally said, “He doesn’t like people touching him too much.”

Jonathan crouched, keeping his voice light. “You okay, kid?”

Bruce blinked up at him. Clicked his tongue. Then, after a long pause, he nodded once.

Jonathan let out a slow breath. “Alright. You let us know if you need anything, okay?”

Bruce blinked again. Tucked himself deeper into his towel. Clicked twice.

Martha wasn’t sure what that meant, but Ollie did. “He said okay.”

Martha sighed, rubbing her temples. These were kids… these were kids .

The food reaction had been worse. They’d eaten in small, cautious bites at first, like they weren’t sure it was real . Then, once their brains caught up, they devoured it—so fast it made Martha’s stomach twist.

They’d really been starving.

And Bruce… little Bruce had yet to say a single word.

Martha glanced at him now, sitting between Clark and Ollie, the two older boys subtly making sure he had food, that no one reached across his plate. Not that they needed to—Jonathan had insisted on serving them all extra portions.

Bruce was watching them warily, his movements precise. He was too pale, too thin, too quiet.

Ollie, on the other hand, was lively enough for both of them.

“And then Hal sees a plane and goes, ‘That’s an old Lockheed Electra 10-E! You think it’s like Earhart’s?’ and I’m like, ‘Dude, how do you know that?! ’”

“I like planes!” Hal protested. “They’re cool ! My dad was a pilot! ”

“You know how they work, ” Arthur pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Hal just huffed.

Barry, in the middle of kicking his legs under the table at rapid speed, suddenly blurted, “Hey, does your cow have a name?”

Jonathan, startled, blinked. “Uh. Bessie?”

Barry nodded, like this was Very Important Information.

Clark, for his part, was just beaming. He didn’t seem to care that his new friends were cryptids, or street kids, or traumatized, or barely socialized. He was just happy to have them.

Martha pressed a hand to her chest, watching him watch them.

Her boy, their boy, had always been different. But here, with these other different kids, he finally seemed like he belonged.

Even if his new friends were half-wild, malnourished, and suspicious of furniture.

Eventually they managed to coax Bruce into typing Alfred's number into the telephone and once Bruce emitted a series of soft clicks and whistles into the speaker and Ollie yattered a small explanation into it after, he handed the phone to them. 

Martha took the phone, feeling a little nervous as she pressed it to her ear. There was a long pause, then a voice—calm, cultured, with the unmistakable undertone of someone who had seen things —spoke.

"Mrs. Kent, I presume?"

Martha’s breath caught. The voice was steady, polite, but there was something else—something sharp and worried beneath the words.

“Yes,” she said gently. “I take it you’re Alfred?”

"Indeed, madam." A pause. "I assume young Master Bruce and his friends are safe?"

She glanced over. Bruce had tucked himself into Ollie’s side, watching her with those wide, wary eyes. Arthur had nudged a plate of extra biscuits toward Clark like some kind of peace offering about their argument on seabirds. Barry, still vibrating faintly, was watching Jonathan curiously, and Hal was messing with one of the model planes Jonathan kept on the shelf.

“They all are,” she assured Alfred. “They’re tired, and they needed a good meal and a bath, but they’re safe. You, uh… you don’t seem as surprised as I thought you’d be.”

A quiet sigh. "Master Bruce has a talent for finding his way into interesting company."

Martha bit back a chuckle. “That’s one way to put it.”

"I shall come collect them immediately, madam. If you would kindly provide an address—"

Martha hesitated.

The boys were exhausted. They had eaten, sure, but they needed rest. They needed to feel safe —and the thought of sending them off, of pushing Bruce out that door when he still looked like a startled rabbit, made her stomach twist.

“…They can stay the night,” she said firmly. “They need rest. If you’d like, you can come tomorrow morning, and we can talk then.”

A long silence. Then—

"You are very kind, Mrs. Kent."

“They’re good boys,” she said simply.

"Yes," Alfred said, something unreadable in his voice. "They are."

-

Alfred showed up the next day and got bombarded by all the boys. 

After, Clark pulled the five to explore the farm and Alfred actually clarified the whole deal to the other two adults. 

He had worked and been good friends with Bruce's parents. Ollie's parents had ben friends with them and the two had clicked the moment they met. 

When Bruce was four, his parents had been murdered in a mugging gone wrong in front of him. 

Alfred told them that Bruce had barely spoken a word since and that he'd even had eating problems for a year after that. Not to mention this was the same time the boy had become a cryptid. 

Then Ollie's mother had died and his father had become neglectful, so Ollie ran away a lot and often stayed at Bruce's and Alfred. 

Once they got a little older, the two had started running around in and out of Gotham and Alfred hadn't been exactly able to stop them. 

Arthur, Hal, and Barry had all been foster kids after losing their parents, and had met and run away from the same foster home. 

The very same night they'd run into Bruce and Ollie in a train car and just a week later Ollie and Bruce had returned to the Manor with three more boys in tow. 

Martha and Jonathan sat in stunned silence as Alfred calmly laid it all out. It wasn’t just that these kids had been through hell —it was how casually they carried it. They weren’t just a bunch of lost kids sticking together for safety; they were a pack.

“They look after each other,” Jonathan murmured, rubbing his chin.

Alfred nodded, sipping his coffee. “Indeed. And they are rather difficult to separate.”

Martha frowned. “And you’re okay with all this? Them running around like this? Living like this?”

Alfred exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. “Mrs. Kent, I am not okay with it. I would rather they sleep in warm beds, eat full meals, and live stable lives. But that is not the world they were given.” He set his cup down with a soft clink . “They are stubborn, willful, and far more capable than any child should have to be. I do my best to ensure they have somewhere safe to land.”

Jonathan exchanged a glance with Martha. Yeah. That was the feeling they got, too. These weren’t ordinary kids. They weren’t even ordinary street kids. They had survived in ways no child should have to.

And yet… out there on the farm, they were just kids .

Clark had dragged them out to the fields, and from the window, they could see them tearing through the grass—Barry literally tearing through it at superspeed, Hal attempting (and failing) to use his ring to catch him, Arthur running with surprising ease despite the terrain, Ollie climbing a fence like he belonged up there, and Bruce…

Bruce stood apart. He didn’t run. He watched. He moved more like a shadow than a boy. But Clark was talking to him, gesturing wildly at something, and after a long moment, Bruce tilted his head and chirped .

Clark beamed.

Martha pressed a hand over her heart. “…I think they need each other.”

Alfred gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, madam. I know they do.”

Chapter Text

That was how five became six. Clark was part of their brotherly gang of freaks and weirdos. 

They still ran around on their own, still evaded Atlantean patrols, still avoided GL corps, stilll escaped cryptid hunters, still ran from cops. 

But they had fun and two home bases. 

Sometimes they crashed at Wayne Manor, sneaking through Gotham’s shadowed streets like urban legends before collapsing in a pile of tangled limbs and exhaustion. Other times, they sprawled out on the Kent farm, letting Clark teach them how to be normal kids —playing in the fields, doing chores, eating real food instead of whatever scraps they found on the run.

(Alfred, Jonathan, and Martha exchanged many exasperated looks over the way the boys inhaled food like starving animals. It never stopped being concerning.)

They still ran from authority figures—Atlantean patrols searching for Arthur, Green Lantern Corps who hadn't yet found out about Hal, cryptid hunters looking for Bruce and Oliver, and, of course, cops who just did not appreciate a bunch of feral, superpowered kids causing chaos in their cities.

Evading the Corps was a bit more high-stakes now that they had a actual thought-to-be-extinct alien child with them, and they also stole tech with the sole idea of 'hey, we can figure out if Clark's cousin is still alive'. They also witnessed an Atlantan general tearing out his hair at the sight of a sixth child. The cryptid hunters they usually evaded didn't even notice Clark until he laser-eyed a cage they were trying to push Ollie into. 

Bruce and Ollie were the sole reason the entire government didn't know about them, because their being cryptids had cameras and data, and more glitching out when they got into fights with the first villain they encountered.  

But they had fun.

They had each other.

And now, they had two places they could call home.

Earth's heroes in the making were a force t be reckoned with before some of them even hit double digits. 

Chapter Text

Diana had seen many strange things in her long life.

Gods. Mythical creatures. Tourists. She had faced many, many entities. 

A bunch of half-feral children moving like trained operatives across city rooftops? That was new.

It had started when she caught two of them—one with wild brown hair and a cocky grin, wearing a green hoodie, the other taller, dark-ahired and blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, and nervous-looking—sneaking into the museum. They had the posture of practiced thieves, but not the usual kind- no desperation, no reckless greed. Just..... curiosity .

And then she’d made the mistake of calling them out.

They panicked .

Not like kids caught causing trouble. Not even like criminals caught red-handed. No, they bolted like prey animals who had been hunted before. And the way they moved—too fast, too precise, like they had practice —sent warning bells ringing in her head.

So, naturally, she followed.

She expected by now for them to not be in the best situation, judging by the state of their clothes and how they acted, but what she did not expect was for them to rendezvous with four other boys in an alleyway, each of them looking just as ragged, wary, and dangerously competent . They exchanged quick, silent signals before making their way toward the train yard.

Then they started climbing into a moving train car like it was routine.

Diana did not think. She acted.

In a blur, she lunged forward and snatched all six of them before they could escape.

...Cue absolute chaos.

Snarling, hissing, kicking, biting—one of them actually bit her —and a flurry of yells:

“ Let go! ”
“ We didn’t do anything! ”
“ B, do the creepy thing! ”
“ Ollie, stop trying to claw her eyes out! ”
“ You don’t have jurisdiction over us, lady! ”

It took a full minute for Diana to get them all restrained, mostly by holding them aloft like wriggling kittens.

And that was how she found herself standing in a dimly lit alleyway, holding six furious, wild children, all glaring at her like she was the villain.

Diana sighed.

This was going to be a long night.

~~~

Wrestling all six of them to a secure spot without being seen was a challenge in itself.

Diana was strong— very strong—but these kids were like sacks of rabid weasels. They twisted, writhed, bit, and somehow knew exactly how to make it difficult for her to keep a grip on them. One of them— Oliver, she thought she heard—actually tried to claw her eyes out. Another— Bruce? —had gone completely silent and limp in a way that made him worryingly difficult to hold onto.

Eventually, she managed to get them into an empty warehouse nearby, kicking the door shut behind her.

The moment she loosened her grip, they scrambled like feral cats, huddling together against the wall. Their eyes darted to the exits, weighing their chances.

Diana took a breath. They were too skilled to be normal children.

So, she pulled out the Lasso of Truth.

That got a reaction.

The moment the golden rope gleamed in the dim light, all six boys stiffened. ‘Ollie’’s pupils went sharp and slitted. ‘Bruce’—who had barely blinked before—pressed closer to him, his fingers twitching in some kind of silent communication. ‘Hal’ and ‘Barry’ both looked deeply uncomfortable, while ‘Arthur’ tensed like he was ready to start throwing punches. ‘Clark’ looked torn between fear and curiosity.

“Sit,” Diana said firmly.

Six pairs of eyes glared at her.

Diana sighed. “You are not in trouble. I am not going to hurt you. I just want to know what you are.”

“…That’s rude,” Ollie muttered.

Diana arched a brow. “You jump moving trains, evade police like spies, and react to magic ropes like you recognize them. So forgive me for thinking you are not ordinary street children.”

Clark shifted uncomfortably. “Um… we kinda aren’t,” he admitted.

“Then you will explain,” Diana said, stepping forward and letting the Lasso glow between her hands. “Starting now. ”

Chapter Text

The Lasso of Truth worked fast.

The moment Diana looped it around Clark’s wrist, his mouth opened against his will.

“We don’t really have parents,” he blurted. “I mean, I do, but they’re in Kansas, and I don’t always stay there, ‘cause the others are my brothers, and we stick together, and also sometimes we’re on the run from bounty hunters and government people and cryptid hunters and the Green Lantern Corps and Atlantean patrols and Gotham’s cops and—”

“ Clark, ” Bruce hissed.

Diana’s stomach dropped. What.

She tightened the Lasso, catching the others in its glow. “ Explain. All of you. ”

And oh, did they explain.

Oliver’s backstory of wealth, neglect, and running away. Bruce’s parents were murdered in front of him when he was four. Hal and Barry lost their parents and escaped a terrible foster system. Arthur, who should be Atlantean royalty, instead grew up bouncing between strangers. Clark was from a now-extinct alien race. How they had all met, all found each other, all refused to be separated.

They had been homeless children for years. Raising themselves. Teaching themselves to survive. Learning how to hide, fight, steal when they had to, and disappear when it was necessary.

Diana was horrified.

She had fought gods. She had seen horrors beyond mortal comprehension. She had watched humanity at its worst.

But this —six children, lost, forgotten, abandoned to the world, left to fend for themselves—felt like one of the cruelest injustices she had ever heard.

The Lasso still glowed.

“You don’t have a home?” she asked softly.

“We have each other,” Ollie shot back, bristling. “And Bruce’s place. And Clark’s.”

“But you still run around alone?” Diana asked incredulously. 

They all glared at her, like feral little cubs.
“Yeah,” said the one called Hal. “Alfred and Clark’s parents try to make us stay sometimes, but we like being free.”

Diana sighed. Clearly, three adults were not enough to keep these six from running wild.

…….. She was going to talk to these ‘Kents’. And the butler. 

She knew heroes-in-the-making when she saw them. 

….Younger heroes did need at least some supervision from an adult hero, right? 

~~~

They were her feral little brothers now.

Chapter Text

J’onn J’onzz was confused.

Not by Earth. He had spent enough time observing humans to understand their quirks.

Not by hero work. He had fought wars, saved planets, and seen horrors beyond imagination.

No, what confused him was the Justice League’s founding members.

At first, they seemed like a standard team—powerful, skilled, and deeply committed to justice. But something was… off.

They bickered like siblings. Not just in the way teammates sometimes did, but in the deeply personal, years-of-knowing-each-other-too-well way.

They invaded each other's cities constantly. Constantly. J’onn had never thought of Batman leaving Gotham until he witnessed Bruce hopping a Zeta-Tube to Coast City just to drag Hal out of the sky mid-battle because “ I told you to watch your flank, dumbass, and i saw the broken arm. CLARK!. ”

They had… weird communication methods.

Clark would whistle a certain three-noted way, and suddenly, Arthur would turn his head like he understood it and move. 

Ollie and Bruce had full-blown conversations with just whistles and clicks.

And the nicknames. J’onn had assumed “Gremlin,” “Barn Rat,” and “Scrappy” were just casual jabs. Then he realized they had been calling each other these names since childhood.

So, one day, he politely asked how long they had known each other.

And that was how he learned that Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, The Flash, and Green Arrow were all childhood friends- no, brothers . That they had grown up together. That they had been feral street kids, running from cops, bounty hunters, and the occasional secret government agency.

J’onn was stunned.

“…You were all homeless children? ”

Clark, ever the optimist, smiled. “Not homeless! We had each other.”

J’onn had fought intergalactic wars. He had witnessed the fall of civilizations. He had stared into the void of space and known true loneliness.

But nothing— nothing —could have prepared him for the absolute chaos that was this League.

Diana patted his shoulder.
“You’ll get used to them. I met them as children, trying to sneak into my workplace. I suppose I’m a sister to them now.”

J’onn sighed. 

Well, that explained that.