Chapter 1 – Starting Over

Summary – When Chad gets abandoned on the Isle by his grandfather in an ill-fated assassination attempt, he makes the most of things. He had planned to keep to himself, but then a certain blond pirate catches his eye and he knew he was doomed.

While he had no intention of creating a new identity or slowly taking over the Isle, that's what ends up happening, though it's definitely worth it for the friends he makes along the way.

WARNING: This is more of a general warning than anything else. This story is darker than my previous Descendants fics, but nothing is approached graphically. This version of Chad is a practical person so he doesn't revel in violence, but he does understand the need for it. So there will be clinical, matter-of-fact descriptions of murder and dismemberment, but it isn't something that's really dwelled on. It's just another part of surviving the Isle, and isn't a major focus of the story.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Chad had always known that the tensions between him and his grandfather would eventually come to a head. Ever since the firm age of twelve when he realized his grandfather's treatment bordered closer to abuse than responsible parenting, Chad knew it was his duty as the future king of Sardinia to step in and do what was right for his people.

It was – frankly – a terrifying thing for a twelve-year-old to realize, especially one with a long-dead mother and a father who had ignored him since the death of said mother – so without any real oversight, Chad bumbled his way through the mild political intrigues a preteen was capable of.

He wasn't going to lie and say it was the smoothest of sailing at first, but he had learned. Through horrible trial and error, he'd gotten better, until he could successfully navigate around his grandfather's proposals until Sardinia was progressing instead of stagnating, Chad's father obliviously acting the part of a pawn that Chad and his grandfather deftly moved around the chessboard of life.

Things had been going well, but they'd also been getting steadily more aggressive, until Chad found himself waking up in what appeared to be a dilapidated forest somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

The point had to go to his grandfather for that round. The old man had not only managed to catch Chad off guard, but successfully drugged him using one of the few poisons Chad hadn't made himself immune to yet, and drugged him long enough to transport him without anyone knowing. Granted, that didn't confirm Chad's death, but he could tell by his surroundings that his grandfather had wanted his demise to be slow and painful. He had to keep the affair relatively hands-off so he could claim Chad's death was a grievous accident – like Chad was supposed to be dumped somewhere not hostile – but whatever, Chad would show him. He'd spent the last three years running off of spite; he could do so for the foreseeable future.

The first hint that things weren't all as they seemed was the fact that Chad still had his cellphone. In fact, he still had all of the equipment he kept on his person before he'd fallen mysteriously unconscious, which meant he was likely out of signal reach. Far enough out of signal reach that his grandfather wasn't worried about him making it back in range alive, which made Chad wonder where the hell he was.

And then he looked up, and things fell into place.

He knew that barrier anywhere. He'd studied it, formed policies over it, relief programs and civic proposals and it was about this barrier that he and his grandfather had last so passionately argued.

That persnickety bitch.

He'd dumped Chad on the Isle of the Lost. Of course he wasn't worried about Chad having his cell phone, the Isle closed off allcommunications except for a few secure lines, most of it broadcasting to the Isle as opposed to out of it. His grandfather had arranged for his captivity in a stroke of what he must have considered poetic justice. He couldn't kill Chad himself, but he was counting on Chad's precious Isle to do it for him, as though there weren't Sardinian citizens being unjustly confined on this poorly conceived plot of land.

Of course, the Duke's emotions had gotten the better of him, because he hadn't confirmed Chad's death. He'd merely arranged for it, but Chad had survived too long and trained too hard to give up now. No, he was going to survive the Isle, find a way to get free and then have a gloriously stealthy political revolution that ended in his grandfather's untimely demise. A heart attack would do. Chad had enough knowledge of poisons to make it untraceable. He was writing the speech for his grandfather's memorial in his head where he stood.

Yes, he was going to live. And he was going to do it by adapting.

Eventually, the Duke would get to see that he had created his own downfall, and Chad would revel in that moment, but to get there, he'd have to work.

So he got started.

-:-:-:-:-:-

One of the basic tenants of surviving in hostile territory was to not draw undo attention to oneself. Unfortunately, Chad's clothes were shades of tasteful pastels mixed with khaki and loafers (his grandfather was likely making himself sick with laughter over it), and while there was little photographic evidence as to the current status of the Isle, he knew they mostly operated off of the secondhand goods shipped out from Auradon proper. Meaning that whatever they had was likely dreary, torn, and not the clothes of a prince, and were Ben present he would likely fall into a tragic depression because his bleeding heart knew no boundaries.

Step one of his current plan of survival required getting new clothes, preferably something to cover his face and hair on the offhand chance someone recognized him as the heir to Sardinia. There was no point in asking for trouble. So Chad proceeded to do what he did best – he took stock his surroundings and set off deeper into the ruined, rotting forest, knowing that until his clothing situation was rectified, he wouldn't be able to risk the parts of the Isle that functioned as a city.

Thankfully, his grandfather's subtle assassination attempts had prompted Chad into carrying a sort of 'emergency kit' with him wherever he went, and whoever his grandfather had hired to dump him here hadn't even bothered to search him, leaving Chad with a minor collection of tools that would give him the edge he needed.

First he had his pocketknife, a respectable thing forged by the dwarves of Hanover, making it roughly a hundred times more durable than the average knife, with a blade that would never lose its sharpness. He had a few rolls of thin, dwarven rune plating he'd procured from the black market – enchanted ore that could transfer the properties of the runes carved into them into whatever object they were placed against. It had taken Chad forever to acquire them, along with a small rune chisel that masqueraded as a stylus he could use to actually carve the runes. Granted, acquiring a majority of this neglected magic art had required Chad to violate a couple dozen laws, but it was that willingness that would likely keep him alive.

Under his tasteful, light blue sweater Chad had his skintight under armor that had been designed by his own hand – just a little something to discourage stabbing attempts, and his minor first aid and sewing kit was strapped to the very base of his back, along with his collapsible firelighter that was fixed just above his ankle.

Overall, it wasn't a bad setup, but it was still a long cry for what Chad would need to survive.

First things first, he needed to focus on food and shelter. After that he could try to get a more stable foothold on his new surroundings.

He tracked down a deserted stretch of beach bordered by an unruly area of forest practically choked with trees. Chad loved it. Loved the multitude of dead reeds and long, wild grass. Loved the craggily boulders that blocked off the area not surrounded by forest and the shallow tidepools that gathered around angular rocks jutting out of the water. Chad spent some time weaving together a net to catch fish before he moved on to accumulating reeds and tree branches to make a rough sort of lean-to that he camouflaged with grass. He built a small fire circle and hid a supply of firewood in the lean-to before trying his hand at fishing.

The fish weren't large, by any means, but Chad did manage to catch something, and better still they didn't even seem poisoned like the wilting forest around them. Chad hung his bounties inside his shelter before using some of his valuable rune plating to design some wards. He scattered them among the tree-line, just enough so that should anyone happen to stumble towards this beach, the runes would coerce them to retreat.

Technically, magic shouldn't work on the Isle – that was how Fairy Godmother designed the barrier. However, Dwarven rune magic worked differently, in that the magic was channeled into the metal, and it was the metal that had been forged outside the Isle that carried the magical properties Chad could manipulate to confirm his own protection.

It wasn't a bad first night on the Isle, eating roasted fish while weaving a mattress of reeds, knowing that this was but the first step in a very long road towards salvation, but Chad was a patient person, so this did not deter him, nor did it shake him from the task at hand. One way or another, he would escape the Isle.

And his grandfather would rue the day.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The following weeks fell into a dependable sort of pattern. Chad worked on acquiring more weapons by way of a quarterstaff he'd whittled himself. He was still working on a set of bow and arrows, though it was a tedious process, and he had set up a secondary base deep in the untouched parts of the forest that he'd both warded and trapped for good measure, spending days carving wooden spikes and weaving rope so he could be as secure as possible. This base contained what was likely one of the greatest treasures on the Isle – a garden that thrived where everything else withered, coaxed into cultivation from his runic magic.

Over time, Chad had managed to acquire a more Isle-suited outfit – all in shades of brown. Rough pants, a long-sleeved jacket that flared out past his waist, buckled with a belt he slowly but surely sewed more pouches onto. It took him awhile to find a clean enough piece of material that he could shape into a mask that covered everything below his eyes, though he'd had slightly more luck locating a dark bandana that could cover his blond curls. The jacket had a hood, and fingerless gloves seemed to be a default fashion accessory for the Isle, so he had a set of those too.

After a month, he was about as ready to venture into the 'civilization' of the Isle as he'd ever be. Which was good, because Chad needed to get a better feel of the land, get an idea of the kind of supplies that flowed through the Isle and how they were distributed.

So with his knife sheathed at his waist and his quarterstaff slung across his back, Chad went out into the night, doing one of the other things he did best.

Acquiring data.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Chad avoided interacting with the Isle's residents as much as possible. Even with the bandana, the hood, and the mask, it was still too risky for him to be recognized as an outsider – not enough scars or street smarts or whatever was required of a survival culture that Chad hadn't spent his life perfecting. He didn't want to give himself away, so he stuck to the rooftops (people rarely looked up, and only a lunatic would risk the unsteady structures that had been hobbled together for the Isle's residents), keeping his excursions relegated to the evening, when the sane and the weak were safely tucked inside.

Between his weapons and parkour experience, it was easy to keep out of the way for his supply runs, which was really just a nicer way of saying 'stealing from the greasiest scumbags he saw'. Chad might be on the Isle now, but he wasn't stealing from kids and petty criminals that barely had anything, they needed what they could get. No, better to redistribute the Isle's 'wealth' from those who had excess.

He was on his way to the docks when he heard a commotion below, emanating from one of the narrow back alleys. Muggings weren't uncommon on the Isle – stealing was just another component of survival – but usually they weren't this one-sided. It was three against one – older, rough faced adults cornering a teenager with a sword, one of the pirates, by the look of it.

Normally, Chad would keep moving and let the unsavory business continue without him (as much as he wanted to help, being a hero would only get him the kind of recognition he didn't need), but he recognized the kid they had backed into a corner.

It would have been hard to miss him – he was that muscular pirate who always seemed to be smiling no matter how horrible the day was. Come rain or shine, the kid had a grin on his face – a genuine one, like he wasn't smart enough to know how bad things were. Chad was honestly surprised he'd stayed alive this long with that kind of attitude, but the prince had grown used to seeing that flash of levity in his perusals over the Isle's rooftops.

And now that smile was going to get stabbed to death in some back alley, just another casualty of the Isle.

Chad found himself scaling down from the rooftops before he could really think about it. The first one he took out with a flying tackle, using him to soften his descent while he jabbed his quarter staff into the nose of the second, knowing by the immediate slump of his body that Chad had successfully shoved his nose bone up into his brain. The third had a bit more time to retaliate, but Chad disarmed him in an easy movement before cracking his staff on the back of his head, then repeating the process on the one groaning beneath him.

There, three on one with the element of surprise, and Chad had just successfully killed his first – and maybe second, person. That was something he'd have to review later, for now he turned his gaze to the smiling pirate.

Who was even smiling now. "Wow!" he chirped, sheathing his sword as though Chad hadn't just taken out three people in front of him. "That was amazing! I'm Gil."

"Hi, Gil," Chad murmured, moving to shift through the muggers' pockets and relieving them of anything useful. One had a lighter, nice.

"Are you like a ninja?" Gil asked, still seeming to burst with excitement and Chad hated it, hated it because he knew he already liked this kid, appreciated him the same way he missed Ben because Ben was also hopeless and stupidly nice. Chad also missed Jane, but she had common sense, so he could take comfort in the fact that she wouldn't accidentally find her own demise. "Is that why you're all covered up?"

"Nope," Chad drawled. "That's because of the scars."

"Oh." Gil blinked. "Yeah, that makes sense." There was a thoughtful pause. "Why did you help me?"

"I like fighting," Chad replied with a shrug. "And now you owe me, so that's a bonus."

"I do?" This seemed to confuse Gil, but the befuddlement settled quickly. "Yeah, you're right – I do."

"I'll let you know when I need something," Chad replied, as though he was not getting everything he needed right here, having an actual conversation with a person for the first time in weeks. "It won't be much."

"You could come down to the Chip Shoppe," Gil chirped, bouncing over to Chad's side once he'd finished taking what he wanted from the muggers. "I can get you food. It's um- pretty good, too."

Comparatively speaking to what was mostly provided to the Isle, Chad realized that was likely the case.

"I've got food." His garden had been coming along well enough, and even if the game here was thin it was still meat, and Chad could get a lot from the bones. "Might need your muscle though, not sure when." Gil got an uncertain sort of look on his face. "It won't be against your crew, don't worry."

"Oh." Immediate relief – this guy just, had no poker face. "Okay." And he was back to being happy again.

Chad sighed. "Why are you out alone, anyway?"

"Got kicked out of the shop," Gil said, as though this was a regular occurrence. "I was on my way back to the ship but um- used the wrong ally." Gil sighed. "I couldn't remember if Harry said to avoid this one or use it."

"I think you now know it was the first option," Chad said, holding his staff at the ready. "I'll walk you to the docks."

"Really?" There was that stupid grin that would probably be Chad's undoing one day. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it." Chad motioned him forward, keeping his eyes fixed to their surroundings. "Seriously."

"Right," Gil whispered. "Because you're a secret ninja."

Chad sighed. "Close enough."

-:-:-:-:-:-

Chad hadn't planned on seeing Gil again – not face-to-face, at least – but a different supply run on a different evening had the pirate cornered in yet another alley, and Chad had a soft spot for easy smiles motivated by nothing, so he made short work of that fight too.

"Hey!" Gil said when the fighting was done and Chad was claiming his reward. "It's you again! Thanks!"

Was everything this guy said an exclamation? Maybe- Ugh, Chad found that endearing. One way or another, he knew he was going to get Gil off the Isle. Maybe Chad would make him his Lord Consort, just as an extra fuck you to his grandfather.

"Hi, Gil," Chad said, because he was polite.

"I didn't get your name last time," Gil chirped. "Because I forgot to ask. I do that a lot."

"I didn't offer it," Chad pointed out, because anyone else would have realized that for themselves. "It's Volker."

The name's origin was from Hanover – Queen Snow's kingdom. She'd confessed one day that the name was under consideration for her son before her miscarriage, meaning 'people's guard'. It felt appropriate, in this instance. Chad was going to guard the people of the Isle, one way or another.

"Volker." Gil's brows furrowed together as he pondered over the name. "That's weird, but cool. Volker."

"You should stop walking alone at night."

"I know," Gil sighed, falling into step with Chad. Apparently walking the pirate back to his docks was now a tradition. "I normally wait outside the Chip Shoppe until Harry lets me back in, but he's real grumpy today so it was taking a while, and then these drunks showed up-" Gil sighed. "I avoided the right alley this time."

"You did," Chad agreed, because he deserved that much. "But all alleys are bad at night." Gil should know that by now.

"Yeah." Gil kicked his feet. "But hey, I got to see you again!"

"You shouldn't bank on that." At Gil's puzzled look, Chad clarified, "Rely on it, I mean."

"Oh, I know. Uma says 'you gotta rely on yourself, Gil', only I'm real dumb. That's why I joined the Wharf Rats in the first place." He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "My dad doesn't really like me." He pulled back. "But like, no one's parents seem to like them – that might just be an Auradon thing." He got a dreamy look on his face. "I wonder what that's like."

"No point worrying over it," Chad said, because he was from Auradon and his parental relationships were nonexistent. "You've got to build your own family."

Gil blinked. "Can we do that?"

"Sure." Chad shrugged. "You get strong enough here, you can do whatever you want."

"What about you?" Gil asked, grinning again. "Do you have a family?"

"Nope." Chad popped the 'p' to try and hide how much of a lie it was.

"Oh." Gil's expression turned thoughtful. "…want to be part of mine?"

Fucking yes.

Chad sighed. "We're not friends," he explained, because Gil being friends with him would only hurt the pirate in the long run. "We're associates. It gives you more power."

"Associ-what?"

"Associates," Chad repeated. "Now say it ten times."

To his credit, Gil did that, murmuring quietly to himself until he had more or less said the word correctly eleven times. "Okay, done."

"Great," Chad drawled. "Now if anyone asks why I helped you, it's because…"

"You like to fight!" Gil answered, face lighting up with excitement.

Chad sighed. "And because-"

"Oh." Gil struggled to readjust, but got there. "Because we're associates."

"There you go." Chad patted his arm carefully, and Gil looked down, staring at the skin he'd touched. "And we're associates because-"

"It gives me more power?" Gil tried, more of a question than anything else. "Is that better than friendship?"

"That's a question I'll have to answer another day," Chad replied, because he couldn't do it honestly now. "Until then, here's your stop."

"Neat." This boy was going to kill Chad, he really was. "Thanks, Volker."

"Don't mention it."

"I won't!" Gil promised.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Hey!" This time it was Gil that waved him down, hiding on the corner of a rooftop as though he'd been specifically waiting for Chad. "So- um, I might have told."

Chad did not sigh. He'd been expecting this.

"On accident," Gil pressed. "'Cuz usually I get mugged a lot, but since you showed up, that doesn't happen as much? Anyway, Harry was asking me, and then Uma was asking me and I can't not-tell Uma, she's my captain."

That time, Chad did sigh. "What did you say?"

"That we're associates." Gil beamed, endlessly pleased that he had gotten the word correct. "But Uma says I'm not supposed to have associates, she is, since she's the captain, so… she wants to meet you."

"No."

"Aw, come on," Gil whined. "It's Uma. Like- not everyone on in the Wharf Rats is cool, but Uma and Harry are the best. You gotta see her. And hey, maybe she can be your associate too."

"She's the one that sends you out into the alleys to get mugged," Chad snapped. "I don't want to be her associate."

It wasn't until after he'd finished speaking that Chad realized he'd said too much, had been too 'good', but thankfully Gil didn't seem to register the offense.

"Hey, it's not her fault I'm dumb," Gil pressed, like that was the issue. "Sometimes I say the wrong thing at the wrong time and I have to be punished or she'll look bad."

"Gil." It was pointless getting frustrated over the necessary power moves required in the Isle hierarchy, but Chad found himself doing that just the same. "I don't care about her motives. Just let her know that any business I have with you won't come back to harm the Wharf Rats." Which Chad guessed was Gil's crew. "And it won't harm you either, because you're no good to me dead. Now, why don't I want you to get hurt?"

Gil paused. "…because we're associates?"

"And?"

"I'm…" Gil blinked. "I'm no good to you dead!"

"Repeat that to yourself ten times," Chad said. "Now I've got to go, one of your friends looks like they might want to climb up here and I've got shit to do."

Gil, who had been in the middle of accomplishing Chad's task, offered him a distracted wave goodbye, letting Chad sneak off into the night without having to deal with the red-coated teenager scowling at their rooftop, perhaps the elusive 'Harry' Chad had heard so much about.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Uma says I have to pay my debts," was how Gil greeted him, precariously balancing on his corner of the rooftop, huddling under a small outcrop to protect against the rain.

Chad sighed, then dug through his satchel until he found a hooded jacket, passing it over to Gil who immediately grinned.

"Wow, nice." It was stupid how happy it made him, but at least Gil looked cozy, grinning inside the fresh clothing. "And- aw, I owe you more now."

"What did I say about you being of use to me?"

"That I'm… not if I'm dead?"

"Getting sick from the cold's an easy way to die," Chad explained. "You can't pay back your debt if you're sick. Think of it as a… necessary tool of the trade."

"Huh." Gil considered this, thumbing at his sleeves.

"And if anyone asks, you found it. And you're going to keep it, unless Uma asks for it."

Gil's face lit up. "Because Uma's captain! I knew you'd get it."

Chad did, to an extent. Which was why he chose to get back on topic. "I don't have anything I need you to do right now."

"Aw," Gil's expression fell. "Uma says I'm not allowed back on the ship or in the shoppe until we're even. She doesn't want the debt to reflect on the Wharf Rats."

Which, again, was strategic on her part, but provided a conundrum for Chad.

"Fine," Chad huffed. "Come on, I'll think of something you can do."

-:-:-:-:-:-

Gil wasn't as dexterous as Chad so traveling the roofs was a no-go. Instead, Chad had to teach the pirate the art of lurking in the shadows, going through the lesser used paths to avoid human interaction, double checking behind them for tails until they were safely near the less-inhabited parts of the Isle. Chad decided to take Gil to his beach, figured if he lost that particular foothold it wouldn't be that difficult to recover.

"Come on," Chad motioned Gil under his reed leanto. "We'll spend the night here, and then you can work in the morning."

"Wow." Gil inspected the inside of the modest hut with wide eyes, seeming impressed with Chad's collection of blankets atop his mattress of ferns. "Did you make this?"

"Yep." Chad motioned for him to settle in. "I'm gonna check on some things real quick, be right back."

It was quick work resetting the perimeter traps, and by the time he got back, Gil seemed to be considering the best patch of sand to lie on.

Chad sighed. "The bed, Gil."

"What?" the pirate blinked at him. "But it's yours."

"We're sharing it," Chad said, as though the very idea of it didn't fill him with warmth, the prospect of having someone near that he trusted. He hadn't gotten that since Jane, and his grandfather rarely allowed Chad to see her. "Come on."

Once he'd been reassured, it was easy for Gil to take his place in the nest of blankets. Chad, giving absolutely no damns, decided to use Gil as his pillow, resting his head on the blond's chest before curling around his side, letting Gil's arm settle on his waist.

"I will be very upset if you try to stab me, Gil," Chad said, not because he expected it, but because his reputation required it.

Gil literally gasped. "I wouldn't do that, Volker, you're the best."

"Like Uma and Harry?" Chad asked, because he was a sucker for punishment.

The chest beneath his ear hummed. "Yeah."

Yep, this boy was going to be the death of him.

But Chad was okay with that.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Taking care of Gil filled a need in Chad that he'd long since ignored, because while it was nice to be productive for himself, helping out someone else was a calling impressed upon him since youth, and now that he was awarded the opportunity to do so again he felt giddy with happiness, even if all he did was provide Gil with some slightly brown apples and a hunk of bread.

"Thanks," Gil chirped, having finally given up on the 'adding to his debt' thing. Chad didn't bother eating because of his mask, but he'd gone longer without food, would likely do so again.

Gil was bright and chirpy by the time Chad led him over towards his plant fiber collection area. "Okay, I need your help making rope," Chad said. "Spend a day doing that and we're even."

"What do I need to do?" Gil asked. "Wait, you can make rope?"

Beneath his mask, Chad grinned. "Let me show you."

Making rope was a tedious but necessary process, and it was nice teaching Gil something, almost as nice as feeding him, and Chad knew he was doomed, had known it from the start, but he had to remind himself not to be pathetic about this. Gil was an exception to the rule – not everyone on the Isle was welcoming. Chad couldn't let his guard down, even if he wanted to.

Once shown what to do, Gil was excellent at the repetitive process of rope creation, and once Chad was satisfied with his work, he left the blond pirate to it. While Gil focused on rope making, Chad set to his own task of carving stealth runes into the metal plates he'd collected – empty aluminum cans he had found and flattened into appropriate sections. Though these plates were not enhanced, the chisel Chad had brought with him would do the magic infusing. Enough of these and his real base would be completely hidden save from him – though Chad was mostly worried about his gardens. No need to let those fall prey to eager hands. Especially the medical supplies.

"This is really cool," Gil said when they had broken for lunch. Well, he had broken for lunch – Chad had snuck some food earlier when he ducked into the woods for supplies, so he spent his time watching Gil relish a can of cold stew. "You're like- the outdoorsman my dad always wanted me to be."

"I wouldn't worry about your dad too much," Chad said, despite the fact that he didn't know much about Gaston. Also, Gil's dad was Gaston, which was so astonishingly bizarre Chad could barely process it. "He was dumb enough to get stuck on this island – I don't think his opinion is all that important."

"Huh," Gil paused. "I hadn't really thought of that. I just thought-" He shrugged those broad shoulders. "You know, if you're a good kid you're supposed to do what your parents want, right?"

"Objectively speaking, I think you're already a good kid," Chad answered honestly, because he just couldn't not. "You've successfully made a shit-ton of rope, and Uma likes having you around. That in itself speaks of success." Chad frowned. "So what if you're not a hunter? Why be like your dad at all? His stupid actions got him sent here, why perpetuate that?"

Gil frowned, mouthing the word 'perpetuate'.

"It means 'to keep going'," Chad explained. "Like a circle, you repeat the cycle. And the cycle's dumb."

"Yeah, but my dad's feared," Gil said. "If I was more like him, people wouldn't try to mug me so much." He sighed. "You're the only one that really hasn't. Even Harry's stolen from me." Hopefully because Harry was trying to maintain his reputation, because if it was anything else, he was going to be having words with Chad's staff.

"The key to survival is doing what works best for you," Chad settled on, because otherwise he'd start growling. "If being like your dad isn't working, you've got to be the best you. It's what I did."

Gil blinked. "And that's how you became a badass secret ninja."

"Pretty much." There might be a blush building on Chad's cheeks because he was truly weak, but the mask hopefully hid it.

"Huh," Gil said again.

And that, apparently, was that.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Chad walked Gil back to the docks after night fell, using the same careful tactics of shadow hopping as they'd use to arrive. Either word of his infamy had grown or Chad looked threatening enough for the both of them, but no one really tried to make any trouble from them until they were back at the port.

"Tell your captain that your debt's been paid," Chad said as he began to melt back into the shadows. "And try not to get cornered again."

"Got it." Gil offered him a clumsy salute. "But um- can I still help you? If I get banished?"

This boy.

"Maybe," Chad allowed, because he'd already been enough of a softy as it was.

He disappeared to Gil's excited 'woop!' behind him, because Gil possessed no subtlety.

But Chad liked that about him, so he supposed it worked.

-:-:-:-:-:-

In what could only be a stroke of luck, Chad managed to locate not one, but two abandoned fire axes during the chaos that was barge day. Normally Chad wouldn't risk being around so many desperate people, but he knew that it was around the time of year that Auroria would upgrade their safety equipment, which meant under a selection of seemingly useless high visibility vests (who on the Isle would want to be visible?) was a hoard of useful things, like fireproof jackets, coveralls, boots, and fire axes.

They were clearly thrown in by mistake, should have been properly recycled elsewhere, but the regulators of Auroria could be a bit lazy, which was what had Chad snatching up the two axes and immediately scaling up the roof, vanishing with the release of a cloying smoke bomb he had constructed from rare plants and abandoned chemicals he'd dug out of dumpsters.

He spent an entire day carving runes into his axes until they were completely changed, taking on the appearance of dwarven-made goods rather than the dull blades they'd been discarded as. Chad deftly sewed two loops into his utility belt to hold them, and with that, he was in business.

Now if someone wanted to mess with Gil, they could fear losing their head. The Queen of Hearts would be so proud.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Volker!" It was chance that had Chad down by the beach, sowing seeds for new weeds while collecting a fresh line of rope. The sun was high in the sky by the time Gil came charging towards his clearing, the pirate pausing at the outskirts, likely because he couldn't remember where the traps were. "Volker, can you- I need associating!"

Which was probably the cutest way to ask for help, and Chad shouldn't care about it, shouldn't even contemplate it because Gil was the only person on this Isle he intimately cared about and he was fine, but Chad found himself picking up his axes anyway, hooking them onto his belt as he met Gil down on the path.

"They took Harry!" Gil said as soon as he was in range. "Don Carnage's crew! They're holding him hostage because they want Uma to give them the Lost Revenge but she can't do that, Volker, she won it fair and square." And it was all the Wharf Rats had – losing that would leave them effectively homeless, and the homeless didn't last long on the Isle. "He's giving her until tomorrow to hand over the ship, but-"

"Calm down," Chad ordered, mentally running through potential plans. "Do you know where they're holding him?"

Gil nodded "They got a hideout on the south docks. We can't go near it though, or they'll hurt Harry."

"Can you describe the building?" Chad would need to go back to his main base to collect supplies. "Know how many are in Don Carnage's crew?"

"I'm not great at counting," Gil admitted, looking pained as he did so. "But I can tell you what building they're in."

"Then we're good to go." It would have to do. "I'll meet you at our usual rooftop in an hour, I've got to go pick up some tools."

"So you'll help?" Gil asked. "Or- associate?"

"Told you I like to fight," Chad said. "This has the bonus of getting one over on Harry."

"You gonna have him make rope too?" Gil asked, ever hopeful.

"I'll figure that out later, now go."

Gil didn't need to be told twice – he left.

-:-:-:-:-:-

To this point, Chad's bow and arrows were untested on humans, but he supposed that would change today. He had made some rough chemical bombs that should help with taking out large groups depending on how big Carnage's crew was – it was fortunate that he'd decided to start dabbling in alchemy as soon as he had. If he was committing to this, he wasn't going to be able to leave any of them alive, unfortunately. He couldn't risk this coming back to haunt him. He could only hope that Don Carnage's crew didn't have any associates of their own to care about their demise.

By the time he got to the appropriate rooftop, Gil was practically vibrating with tension. "Twelve buildings over, just around the bend near the Jolly Roger," Gil explained after he gave Chad a breakdown of what to look for. "Harry's younger than all of them, and he's got short black hair and pretty blue eyes and a red coat. He usually has a hook too, but that's what they sent to Uma to prove they had him."

"One less thing to worry about then." It was uncomfortable being in the middle of the Isle during the day. Chad would prefer to wait for evening to strike, but that would be when Carnage's crew was most on guard. Even if they'd be looking out for the Wharf Rats and not Chad, it would be better to get the drop on them while he could. "Wait three buildings down from their base, okay? You're gonna need to carry your friend back to the Lost Revenge."

"Can you really do it?" Gil asked. "Can you save Harry?"

"Won't know 'till I find out," Chad replied honestly, then set off on the roofs.

The building was exactly how Gil described it – pirates that had clearly seen better days loitering around the edges, keeping up the pretense of what could have been guard shifts. There were two on the rooftop and another five near the entrance, playing cards and shooting shit, unaware of their eminent deaths.

Chad took care of the roof guards first, taking one out with an arrow through the eye when the other had his back turned. He managed to loose a second arrow by the time the second guard caught sight of his friend's dead body, which cleared the roof easily enough. Now to take care of the entrance.

Through necessity, Chad changed positions, climbing to a different rooftop as he considered his best entry option. He'd likely have to grapple to the roof to remain undetected, but to pull focus from that, he'd have a little fun.

That was what led to him fixing one of his chemical packs to the end of his arrow, aiming for the table the entrance guards were gathered around and letting it fly. In the moment of confusion that followed, he shot a fire arrow afterwards, causing a lovely explosion that had the guards shrieking and running for water, anything to keep the flames from spreading.

Chad got to work.

With all the panic below, it was easy to swing onto the roof, switching out his bow for his axes as he made his descent into the building. It was fortunate that most of Carnage's crew seemed to be running towards the fire, trying to put it out, and those that lagged behind were quickly dealt with by a violent axe swing to the neck. By the time he found where Harry was being held, the stairs were smeared with blood, and only Carnage himself held vigil over the tied and beaten Harry Hook.

"You're not a Wharf Rat," Carnage said – his last words as Chad threw his axe not a second later, hitting him square between the eyes.

"I'm Volker," Chad explained as he quickly cut Harry's ties, ripping the gag away before retrieving his axe. "Gil asked for my help."

"What do ye want with Gilly?" the first mate snapped, as though Chad wasn't in the middle of rescuing him. "Ye tryin' to take advantage of him?"

"He amuses me – more than you do, at any rate," Chad snapped, dragging Harry to his feet. The kid was shaky, held up by spite alone. "Now shut up and get moving, we've got to go."

Despite Harry's grumbled protests, Chad managed to drag him down the stairs and out a side door, killing anyone who came in their path. He ignored Harry's pride to sling one of his arms around Chad's neck, dragging him down the street to Gil's location.

The blond was waiting for them with nervous hands, though he lit up when he caught sight of Harry. "You did it!" he chirped. "Harry-"

"Ye didn't need to involve him," the first mate snapped.

"He did and it's done," Chad hissed so they wouldn't keep arguing. "Gil, take him back to the ship, I've got to go finish off the others."

"But…" Gil hesitated. "We've got Harry."

"Yep," Chad agreed. "And a good way to make sure he stays with you is to take care of all your enemies. Now get going."

Gil didn't hesitate after that, bodily picking Harry up before sprinting back down the street, ignoring the other teen's snarls all the way. In the meantime, Chad climbed to the roof and set back towards the building.

He had a crew to destroy.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Endnotes:

Man, I tried not to play favorites but I must not have tried that hard because most of this story is Harry getting generally harassed by the world for my own amusement. So. Enjoy that, I guess ;P

Story notes:

Don Carnage is a villain from the 'Duck Tales' series. Technically he's a fox, though in this particular world we're going to pretend he and his crew are all human.

I entirely invented the dwarven runes, and considering the fact that most magical artifacts don't work under the barrier, they probably wouldn't work either, but I wanted to give Chad a bit of a shortcut for his survival, so I went ahead and allowed it ^_^

Hanover is my name for Snow White's kingdom, because the canon name of 'Charmington' did not jive with me. Similarly, Sardinia is my name for Chad's kingdom, because Cinderellasburg in no way sounds like a real kingdom.

Having Audrey's kingdom not that great at managing their supplies appeals to me on a petty level, I won't lie

Until next time :)