Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Okay, so maybe coming to the interview with a few broken ribs was a bad idea, but what choice did he have? Just not come and keep on being unemployed?

Several bad things could happen during his interview, given the circumstances. There was an AI in the building designed by Vulcan which not only kept unwanted people from getting in, it scanned people for any unauthorized weapons or injuries. There was also the problem with his illegal documents since he wasn't an actual adult. But the biggest risk is that the job is at a hero organization.

And he's a vigilante. Which are highly illegal.

And as he stands in front of the huge building he starts to question if he should really do this. The answer was obvious to him.

Yesn't.

So, he straightens his posture and walks in, trying extremely hard not to wince at the pain in his chest. He smiles at the receptionist at the front desk when she looks up at him, almost praying that the AI doesn't scan him.

"Hello, I'm here for the interview for the position of assistant?" he didn't mean to make it sound like a question, he wanted to sound sure of what he was saying but his nerves were getting the best of him.

The lady (named Kristin, according to her name-tag) smiles back at him and his nerves turn from crashing waves in a storm to soft raindrops and he feels warm. She looks inside a drawer and pulls out a keycard from it "Please put this around your neck or make it visible at all times for Henry to be able to scan," he assumed Henry was the AI "this will give you access to the floors you need to go to and will expire after the day ends, if you get the job you'll receive a new badge to access most floors in the building."

Kristin goes on as Tommy puts the badge around his neck "You'll go through that door-" she points to the door a few feet to her left "-turn right and there will be an elevator," she turns back to him "the waiting room for the interview is on the 46th floor, just walk down the corridor and there will be a room with people waiting, when your name is called you'll head up to the 50th floor and head into the room labeled "Interview Room", you'll have your interview there."

Tommy nods at her, processing the information given to him as his smile widens "Thank you." he walks to the door Kristin had pointed to after receiving a good luck from her.

Walking through the corridor are multiple people, some in suits, some in lab coats, he tries his best not to crash into any of them as he maneuvers his way through, eventually reaching the elevator- which is surprisingly empty- he goes into it and presses the button to the 46th floor.

He moves his hand up to his chest as a particularly sharp pain hits him, he almost screams when he hears a male voice speak up "You seem to have two broken ribs and a bruised stomach, these injuries cause immense pain and should be treated at a hospital, shall I notify L'manberg's hospital to come and get you?"

So that was Henry, at least it didn't scan him at the front desk. "Oh no, it's okay, I'll get medical help once I'm out of the building." he winces at the way his voice trembles.

"Understood, still, I must inform a higher-up of your injuries as of protocol."

When he tried yelling at the AI to please, for the love of Prime, not tell anyone, Henry didn't respond, leaving him in a suspenseful silence as he seriously considered quitting right now as to not screw up his possibilities of getting the job any more than they already were.

So there's not much he can do but wait when he reaches his floor, and as he enters the waiting room he realizes he might've misjudged just how many people were trying out for the position. The room was like the waiting rooms in a hospital, rows of chairs that in total could hold at least 40 people, but right now there were people standing because all the seats were taken.

He nervously stands by the entrance of the room, as far away from other people and unwanted conversations as he could be. Even so, there wasn't much conversation happening, most people were looking over papers anxiously, muttering to themselves while the other minority of people were just looking as confident as ever, glaring at each other like they each had committed a horrendous crime.

People were dressed in fancy suits, surely to make a good impression and he can feel the looks as they analyze his simple hoodie and jeans. In his defense, he seriously had more important things to spend money on than a stupid fancy outfit.

He almost falls asleep where he's standing and his legs are seriously started to cramp from how long he had been there waiting, it had to have been at least two hours, he should've expected it from the sixty-something people that had been waiting when he entered the room. He was sure the only reason he didn't fall asleep was because of the constant pain in his chest with each breath he took.

He jumps when he hears his fake name being called by Henry, resulting in some stares by the people still in the room. He moves swiftly out of the room, not being able to stand being there any longer than he has to.

Once he gets into the elevator he hesitates before pressing the button to the 50th floor, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as the elevator goes up, getting closer and closer to his destination and he also just gets closer to being sent into a panic attack, but he keeps his attention on anything he can see and hear to ground himself and power through this.

He moves almost automatically when the doors open and before he notices he's in front of the room set for his interview. He stares at it, examining the door as if it were the most interesting thing to ever exist, he wrings his hands, breathing starting to get a little harder and chest throbbing as he takes deeper breaths.

"You seem to be experiencing high levels of distress, would you like me to contact someone to assist you?"

He snaps back to reality when Henry's voice speaks up, he takes a few small breaths to calm himself down, "No, it's okay, I'm okay, there's no need to call anyone over." he states tremblingly, looking up to the ceiling as if there's where Henry would be.

"If you say so sir, if you need assistance, just call my name."

Tommy hums in response, knocking on the door in front of him without thinking twice about it. When he gets the confirmation to come in he takes one last deep breath that sends pain through his torso and enters the room, with a new air of confidence to him, as if he wasn't about to have a panic attack at the door just moments before.

That confidence crumbles and he almost drops to the floor crying when he sees who's sitting at the desk inside the room, ready to interview him.

Number 4 hero, Spectre, also known as Wilbur Soot, is sitting there, looking over some papers that he assumes belong to his file.

He almost weeps when the hero looks straight at him "Thomas Underscore, right? Please, take a seat."

When his legs start working again he marches over and takes a seat opposite of the hero "You may know me as Spectre but I'd prefer if you could call me by my name, Wilbur." the hero, Wilbur, gives him a strained smile, probably tired from the many people he has interviewed so far.

Tommy gives the man a nod, his own strained smile making an appearance, his fiddling hands making his anxiety known.

"Okay, first things first, I need to know if you are ready to deal with any dangers that may come with this job." the hero's eyes seem to be searching for... something "I understand if you say no, it's a bit of a deal-breaker amongst many."

It dawns on Tommy after a moment.

He's challenging him.

And by Prime, Tommy is not someone who backs down when challenged.

"I'm fine with the dangers of this job, after all," he gives a cheeky grin to the hero "Danger is my middle name."

Wilbur looks down at his file before stifling a laugh, clearing his throat to try and hide it "I see, well, follow-up question, how do you deal with situations of great stress?"

Tommy refrains from tilting his head "Well, I suppose it depends on the situation, if you're talking about deadlines and such that's not much of a problem, if it's crime-related like, let's say, a kidnapping, I'm sure there would be a way of contacting you, and if not, I've had self-defense classes." he pauses, looking the hero in the eye "I can hold my own in a fight."

The hero in front of him seems to be processing the information given to him and Tommy realizes he may have talked too much.

Well.

Fuck.

Tubbo had told him at least half a dozen times to keep his answers short, do not talk too much. Well, there goes that plan.

"Why do you want to work here?" Wilbur finally asks.

"When I was young, I wanted to be a hero, when I, later on, didn't develop any abilities I gave up, but I guess the closest thing to that would be working with heroes."

Wilbur seems to perk up to that "You have no abilities?" he looks back down at Tommy's file, reading it over.

"No, but I believe that shouldn't affect my work in any way." Tommy tries to swallow the knot in his throat. Had lying about his abilities been the right move?

Wilbur smiles at him, the first genuine smile he had seen from the man "I believe so too."

"Okay," Wilbur closes the file on his desk "anything else you want to say, or are we done here?"

Tommy almost stumbles over the words that want to spill out of his mouth. That's it? Three questions and that's that? Had he fucked up that badly? "I- Oh no, that's it, thank you for your time-"

"Actually sir, Thomas seems to have two broken ribs and a bruised stomach."

Silence.

"Fucking snitch."

He is so not getting this job.

Chapter Text

Wilbur stares at him with muted terror, mouth opening and closing as he thinks of what to say.

There is  no way  Tommy is getting this job.

They stare at each other, the silence in the room is deafening and Tommy feels like throwing up.

And then Wilbur is standing up and rushing to his side, looking so pale he could've been mistaken by a ghost.

"Why are you here if you have two broken ribs?" Wilbur stresses, frantically looking over him, hands risen up but hesitant to touch him as if scared to cause any more damage.

"Well- I just- I couldn't just reschedule an interview like that." Tommy forces out.

Wilbur snaps his mouth shut, looking at Tommy in disbelief before speaking up again "Henry, please cancel the rest of my interviews for the day or ask someone to cover for me, doesn't matter. You," he addresses Tommy "are coming with me."

Tommy can't even protest as he stands up, the hero holding onto his arm and leading him out of the room.

"Henry, please tell Techno to meet me in the med bay." who the hell is Techno.

"The Hospital Floor, sir?"

"Yes, the fu- yes the hospital floor!" the man almost yells out, stressed, yet still careful as to not grab onto Tommy too forcefully "Sorry!"

Tommy looks at Wilbur quizzically. Had this man just apologized to the AI? He's getting more and more confused by the second.

The only way to describe the atmosphere when they're both in the elevator is awkward.

They just stand there. Silent.

That is until Tommy just can't keep quiet anymore.

"So..." starting off strong, huh "Do you have object permanence?"

Wilbur looks at him "What?"

"Do you have object permanence?" he tries again.

Wilbur keeps staring at him, dude, was this man deaf or mute?

"Object permanence?" ah, he speaks!

"Yeah, y'know when you play peekaboo with babies and they don't know where you go? They think you're not there anymore so they don't have object permanence." he pauses, fuck it, he's not getting this job anyways "Are you a baby, Wilbur?"

"Thomas, of course I have object permanence," Wilbur answers slowly as if Tommy would find it difficult to understand.

"First of all, call me Tommy. Second of all," he scoffs, turning his head so that he's looking at the elevator doors and not Wilbur "I'm sorry but if you close the door to my room and you're outside, you simply just do not exist anymore."

"Tommy, I still exist when you can't see me." he says, like an idiot.

"No ❤️"

Wilbur stares at him, terrified "How the fuck did you say tha-"

"Listen, when I can't see you, you simply do not exist, you're simply a figment of my imagination." before Wilbur can even try and debate with Tommy anymore, Tommy's speaking up again "This elevator ride is taking an awfully long time."

"Well, now that you mention it, you're right." Wilbur looks up to see on which floor they're at and that's when he realizes,

He hadn't clicked on a floor yet.

Tommy and Wilbur look at each other, silent. And then they proceed to laugh to the point of tears.

It was stupid, they were stupid. Bunch of idiots.

Well, it was funny until Tommy started wheezing in pain, out of breath, he clutches his chest at the pain that spreads through it.

The laughter immediately stops and Wilbur rushes to press the button to the correct floor, holding onto Tommy and supporting him so he doesn't fall to the floor.

As they go up to the med bay the only thing Tommy can think about is:

"This day just can't get any worse."

When the elevator doors open he is met by a pink-haired man standing there with crossed arms, who he immediately recognizes as The Blade.

Well, seems that he spoke too soon.

The Blade's eyes immediately meet his own, before moving to look at Wilbur, "Why do you have a child with you." that didn't really sound like a question.

Tommy furrows his eyebrows "I'm nineteen, you stupid cunt." and Wilbur's laughing again.

The Blade doesn't look impressed in the slightest, he keeps looking at Wilbur, waiting for him to stop laughing so he could explain the situation.

"He-" Wilbur coughs, trying to keep his laughter under control "He has two broken ribs and a bruised stomach."

"And you're laughing?" he raises an eyebrow before looking at Tommy "C'mon kid, sit on the bed so we can treat ya." he gestures to one of the many medical beds in the room.

Tommy refrains from answering that he is, in fact, not a kid, and just does as he's told, hissing at the sharp pain on his torso.

"Honestly, Wilbur, treating broken ribs and a bruised stomach is easy, you could've done it yourself, instead of, you know," he looks straight at Wilbur "calling me and interrupting my work."

"By work, you mean watching SpongeBob or videos of guinea pigs, Techno?"

The Blade, or Techno apparently, scoffs as if embarrassed "By work, I mean work, that is confidential and that we should not talk about in front of a child." he states as he takes an ice pack from a mini-fridge by the bed.

"Blade, I'm gonna punt you into the fucking sun if you call me a child again."

Wilbur stifles a laugh, coughing into his hand to hide it as Techno narrows his eyes in Tommy's direction.

"Here, take this." he hands Tommy a glass of water and a pill, Tommy hesitates before swallowing it down with the water "Okay, now take your hoodie off and sit up with your back straight, I need to check how bad the fracture is before deciding how to treat it."

Tommy scrunches his face in distaste, extremely hesitant to do it before deciding fuck it, they already know about the injuries and taking his hoodie and t-shirt off and sitting up straighter.

He hisses in pain when Techno presses down on his chest, touching around the dark bruises "When and how did this happen?"

"Uh, well, it happened maybe two days ago? I was mugged when going grocery shopping, I guess I didn't think it was broken." Please believe me, please believe me, please, for the love of Prime, believe me.

Techno hums in acknowledgment "It's broken alright, the fracture seems to have been caused by a blunt weapon. Tell me, have you been having any extreme shortness of breath, dizziness or confusion, been coughing up blood, feeling weak in general?"

"Shortness of breath, yes, a bit, the rest, no."

"Good, you don't need surgery, from what I felt it seems to be an incomplete fracture, it's not broken all the way through." he picks up an ice pack, holding it out to Tommy "Put this on your chest, it'll relieve the pain, take acetaminophen or ibuprofen, any painkiller really if the pain is too strong and do not, and I mean  do not  wrap your chest with bandages." he waits for Tommy to nod before finishing "As for the bruised stomach, just put ice on it for 10 minutes, wait 20 minutes before putting it back. You can also use a heating pad, it'll help too."

Tommy swallows, trying to push his embarrassment down, as Techno puts the medication away and Wilbur stares at him.

"Alright, Wil, I need to talk to you, kid," Tommy glares at him "just stay here, keep the ice on your chest." Techno pulls Wilbur aside by the elevator doors.

Tommy can only catch the words "hire", "Phil" and "Tommy" before giving up on eavesdropping and instead choosing to look around the room. It was spacious, a bunch of medical beds with curtains in between, there were also other rooms, he was pretty sure the whole floor was dedicated to treating the heroes' injuries  "If they get as injured during patrol as I do then they probably need it".

The tech in this room would probably be something Tubbo would die to see, even if their whole purpose was to treat injuries. Tommy grimaces at the thought of Tubbo, he and Ranboo had been worried enough about him trying out for the SBI's assistant as it was, when they find out all of this mess happened he'll be as good as dead.

He barely notices the heroes coming back until they're right in front of him, Wilbur looking a tad bit more worried than he was before and Techno looking like he didn't like the fate that had been sealed for him.

"Alright, we're gonna keep you here for just a few more minutes and then you'll be free to go on your way, that is, unless you have any other injuries?" Techno tilts his head at him, which is strangely terrifying.

Tommy feels confused for a second "Wouldn't Henry notify you of all my injuries?"

"Henry only tells us the most severe injuries, the ones we should prioritize, the ones that can be dealt with less urgency are left on the back burner," Wilbur explains this time, speaking to him for the first time since he started getting treated.

"I don't think I have any other injuries, nothing else hurts." Tommy finally answers the question.

"Henry?"

"No other injuries of importance, he has bruises on his legs and back but these seem to be almost completely healed." Henry informs helpfully, not.

"More injuries?" Wilbur quietly asks as Techno takes a look at his back.

"Muggings happen often in Logstechire, only been caught by them a couple times."

Wilbur looks at Techno like he had just seen a kicked puppy before looking back at Tommy to address him "You live in Logstechire?"

"Yeah, I live with my two roommates." he answers with uncertainty, not sure whether or not that was the right answer "One of them is studying technology and robotics."

"Alright, well I think you're stable enough to go home now." Techno states, taking the ice from Tommy to put away.

"Are you okay to go home alone or would you like me to drop you off?" Wilbur asks worriedly, looking over him as he puts his hoodie back on "I think I should drop you off."

"No, no, it's okay, I'm fine with going alone," he gives them a grimacing smile "there's no need for you to drop me off."

"If you say so.."

Tommy nods, standing up from where he was sitting and holding back a wince at his still hurting chest. He waves goodbye at the two heroes as he speedwalks towards the elevator.

Once he's inside and the doors close he drops to the floor slowly, breathing in and out slowly with wide eyes.

So we can all agree that Tommy is not getting this job, right?

Chapter Text

"They took care of your broken ribs?!"

"Well, it's not like I fucking told them!"

Tubbo is currently pacing from side to side, hands on his ears as if that'd stop any of Tommy's nonsense from passing through. Ranboo is just sitting on the couch watching the scene unfold, his expression anxious.

Tubbo stops in an abrupt manner, turning to look at Tommy so fast that Tommy winces when he hears a crack "Then who, pray tell, the fuck told them?"

Tommy raises his arms in indignation "The AI is a fucking snitch! It's not my fault!"

"Maybe if you hadn't been so cocky while on patrol and fucking destroyed the earpiece, y'know, the one that keeps you  alive,  you wouldn't have two broken ribs!"

Tommy sits down beside Ranboo, pouting "I'm a big man, I don't need your fucking earpiece!"

"You're a fucking idiot is what you are!"

They glare at each other in silence, almost as if they were having their own nonverbal conversation.

"So, uh, what do you guys want for dinner?" Ranboo asks quietly and awkwardly from his place on the couch.

"A punch in Tommy's stupid fucking jaw." Tubbo scowls.

"Fuck you, we're having burgers."

"Fuck you, sausage rolls."

"We're having burgers." Tommy crosses his arms.

"We are NOT."

"We are! You clingy bastard."

"I want sausage rolls!"

"I want burgers!"

"And I want you to stop taking out your earpiece!" Tubbo's glare hardens, he bends down picking up a stray sock off of the ground and throwing it at Tommy.

Tommy brings his arms up to use as a shield "And I want you to stop underestimating me!"

"WELL MAYBE IF THE BURGERS DIDN'T THINK THEY WERE A BURDEN, THEN WE COULD HAVE THEM FOR DINNER!" Tubbo finally yells out.

Tommy stands back up "MAYBE IF THE SAUSAGE ROLLS WEREN'T OVERPROTECTIVE, CLINGY BASTARDS THAT UNDERESTIMATED ME, WE'D HAVE THEM IN THE FRIDGE!"

"Dude, I'll just make spaghetti," Ranboo mutters to himself, standing up tiredly and walking to the kitchen, leaving his two roommates to keep arguing in whatever metaphors they were using.

During dinner both teens glare at each other, Ranboo pointedly ignoring them and talking about the frog he saw while coming back from work.

And when they're done another argument has started up.

"You are not going on patrol," Tubbo says with crossed arms, looking like a disappointed mother.

"Fuck you, I'm going on patrol," Tommy answers, already halfway out of the window, clad in his suit.

Well, maybe calling it a suit was too generous. It was just a black and red hoodie with some loose pants, the only things covering his face were a black face mask and goggles Tubbo had made, his head was covered by his hood most of the time, he often held it up with his magic so it wouldn't fall.

"You have two broken fucking ribs, Tommy Kraken Danger Underscore Beloved Innit."

"Your point being?"

"Tommy!"

"See ya!" Tommy half yells and promptly jumps out of the window.

He boosts himself up onto the top of another building with his magic, adrenaline coursing through his body at the thought of falling from this height.

He perches himself on top of the building eyes scanning the area around him. It was a quiet night so it'd probably be a slow night as well, after all, who commits crimes on a Tuesday?

Tubbo hadn't informed him of any activity yet through his com (which he had put on for his own safety (against Tubbo)) so he assumed that for now, he was free to do as he pleases, so he jumps from building to building, simply appreciating the way his magic felt.

He almost misses a jump when he sees Quackity, a hero, standing there looking at him. He stumbles forward when he lands on the building, stopping himself with his magic before he can crash into the hero.

They stand looking at each other in silence, that seems to be happening a lot lately.

"How's it goin' man?" the hero smiles at him, posture relaxed.

Tommy straightens his stance slightly, suspicious, he stays quiet.

"You don't talk much, do you?

Tommy shakes his head no, bringing his hands up to sign  "I don't talk."

Quackity stares at him a confused look on his face "I- I don't understand sign language."

So, in a moment of bravery and because his instincts told him to, he flips the hero off, which, as result, makes Quackity almost fall over laughing.

The hero points at him, hiccups from laughter interrupting him as he tries to speak "Now  that,  I do understand!" the hero laughs, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.

Tommy stares at him, hand over his mouth to contain his own giggles, the hero's laughter being infectious, his posture relaxes slightly, highly doubting the hero could arrest him in this state.

After the hero calms down, he simply sits down on the floor, patting the spot beside him as an invite. Tommy, still not completely trusting him, sits down in front of him, a good distance between them.

"I'm not here to arrest you if that's what you're worried about." Quackity props his head on his head in apparent boredom "I don't really care what you're up to as long as you don't commit some major crime, but I got curious about you after I saw you on YouTube."

He was on YouTube? He didn't think anyone had filmed him while on patrol, how many people knew about him now?

"Sooooo, I wanted to know what your name is, but I guess that'll be harder than I thought huh?" then he mutters to himself "Should've brought a pen and paper just in case."

Tommy tilts his head, unable to show his exact emotions with his face covered, he doesn't even have a name, he didn't think that far ahead when he decided to become a vigilante since it was such a sudden decision, he didn't really deem it necessary. Until now that is.

He shrugs at the hero, trying to convey his thoughts into words. But the hero only stares at him, confused.

Tommy makes an exaggerated movement of rolling his eyes, shrugging again.

"You.. don't know?" the hero asks, seemingly more confused than he already was.

Tommy shrugs once again when he hears his earpiece beep, then Tubbo's voice is filtering through. Tommy holds up a finger to shut the hero up before he's even talking.

"There seems to be reports of a robbery on the bank, two blocks down north, from what Ranboo saw there were five people, all in... hero masks."

Tommy looks in the direction Tubbo had directed him to, he quickly gives the hero a two-finger salute before boosting himself off the building and towards the bank.

"Any more information?" he mutters to the com.

"One guy's power seems to be fire breathing so be sure to look out for that, everyone else's has guns so I'm assuming they don't have powers, don't let your guard down though."

He does an epic landing in front of the bank because of course he does and looks at the men trying to currently break into the high security protected bank. He leans back on a dumpster behind him, uncaring of how dirty it could possibly be, he watches the men struggle to get through the security for a few seconds, amused.

He bangs his fist on the side of the dumpster three times with force, almost letting out a loud laugh when all of the guys turn to look at him simultaneously, the stupid hero masks with exaggerated features staring into his soul.

He salutes them, leaning lazily on the dumpster, he yawns, crossing his arms and just looking at the men. He wants to make a sarcastic remark so bad.

One of the men, who has a Dream mask, drops his gun, and then there's a car being thrown at him. Tommy startles, telekinesis huh? Well, he has his own tricks as well.

The car is then covered by a red aura as it stops mid-air, the man who threw the car at him makes a sound of surprise, frozen as he watches the car be thrown down the street.

Tommy winces when he hears it crash, he feels bad for the poor person whose car just got destroyed. He hopes whoever the car belongs to has insurance.

He's busy looking at the tipped-over car when he hears fast-paced footsteps coming in his direction, and when he looks back he barely has time to duck from a punch being thrown at him.

He punches the guy in the face, registering that he has a Blade mask before springing right back into action.

He really hopes the tipped over car has insurance—

Another thing is thrown at him, it clatters against the wall and he dives out of the way. Landing on top of the dumpster, he looks over at everyone looking up at him. With the- just god awful masks.

Like… he’s seen some bad masks, but these are up there. They’re the sorta cheap stuff that people found at the dollar store.

A metal trash-can lid flies at him, and Tommy throws out his hand. It stops in the air, floating for there a moment, before flinging it at the person who threw it at him. (A Dream mask, the eyes were in the wrong spot.)

It clatters against the person, and the Dream-kinnie falls to the ground.

Tommy flicks his wrist and the Dream-kinnie floats in the air for a moment, surrounded by red for a split second.

Twisting his other hand, he opens the dumpster lid to his left and just… puts the Dream-kinnie in the dumpster.

Someone cries out, for their friend apparently, and all Tommy could do was sigh. He flips off of the dumpster (shut up, no he didn’t fall flat on his face.)

Heat erupts in front of him and Tommy stumbled back, feeling the tips of his gloves singeing at it.

Ah. A Sapnap-kinnie. Shocker. Firebreather and all.

There’s the Blade-kinnie, Dream-kinnie (in the dumpster), Sapnap-kinnie, the Spectre-kinnie (it’s literally just Spectre’s face on a mask, it’s funny.) And the Outwit-kinnie.

Two powered, three not.

Cool.

He could do this.

Wait, the Dream-kinnie has telekinesis-

The dumpster lid slams open, and someone lands on Tommy’s back. Forcing him to hit the ground, and he does hit the ground with a thump.

Okay. Ow.

He really hopes this car has insurance.

He groans under the feet under his back- his poor ribs.

Slowly he raises a hand, trying to focus on the car that had been thrown down the street.

His magic grips it, he can feel it.

He really, really, hopes this poor car has insurance.

The car flies, into the small part of the alley, and with the momentary confusion, he rolls out from under the Dream-kinnies leg and mostly out of spite, twists it in a way that has the kinnie on the floor.

Tommy stands up, looking around for the next thing.

The Sapnap-kinnie was trapped under the car. And the other three were trying to help them out, which was very cute honestly-

Too bad.

Tommy flicks his wrist again, all of the masked-kinnies being surrounded by his magic.

Flicking his wrist again, they’re all slamming against the wall.

Tommy walks up to them, zip ties their wrists together. He zip ties them together, then zip ties the group to the dumpster.

He sighs, looking at the Sapnap-kinnie who is still trying to burn him by breathing fire all aggressively.

Rude.

Then, as the mature adult he is.

Stands on top of the dumpster, and grabs a permanent marker from his pocket (it’s useful, okay?)

 Kinnies try to rob a bank. More at 7: 

 Pledse arrest them.

 :)

He jumps off the dumpster with a flip (mostly to show off, if he’s being quite frank) and flips off the kinnies now in a ball of arms, legs and trying to attempt to get away.

They wouldn’t get away.

As long as the telekinesis guy didn’t look at any of the-

He slumps with a sigh, Tommy walks over and grabs a scarf from next to the dumpster. Before tying it around the Dream-kinnies eyes, making him unable to use his powers. He protests, but it won’t do shit.

There.

Now they wouldn’t get away.

And he runs down the street.

Another successful crime dealt with.

Once he can hear sirens coming near the bank, he slumps against the wall of an alleyway, putting his hand on his chest and groaning at the pain. So much for getting better.

He ends up helping people do minor stuff for the rest of the night. Feeding some stray cats with food an old lady leaves out for him to do so; Helping out the guy load his moving truck because he didn't have time to do it during the day; etc.

When he gets home through the window and tiredly takes off his mask and goggles he barely has time to set foot on the floor before Ranboo and Tubbo are screaming at his face. He almost gets whiplash from the difference between the silence outside and his roommates yelling.

Eventually, the screaming dies down and they just stand there, standing while staring at him.

He looks at them tiredly "...What?"

"You received an email from the SBI!"

Tommy stands there, processing the information, almost like an old computer, before he's once again full of energy and running over to Tubbo's computer.

The email hadn't been open yet and he already feared the worst, he takes small breaths before opening the email, already expecting it to start with "We regret to inform you that..." and yadda yadda.

So when that's not what he's met with,

His brain kind of shuts down.

He turns slowly, very slowly, to his roommates.

"What, the  fuck?"  he asks calmly.

He got the job?

How  the fuck  did he get the job?

What?

Chapter Text

He had promised himself that as soon as he saw Wilbur Soot he would just, punt him.

Just, punt him, straight into fucking Pluto or some shit.

He just did not deserve to have a panic attack over being accepted into the position of assistant. The interview didn't even go well for Prime's sake!

So why the actual fuck did SBI employ him?

When he enters the building he almost doesn't say hi to Kristin in his confusion, only really paying attention to her when she handed him his keycard. Right after that he quickly waves goodbye to her and goes straight to the elevator.

Henry takes him to the SBI floor without even needing to be told to. He taps his foot on the floor, counting the seconds as he goes up to the... 69th floor? Really? If you're laughing, haha, real mature. What comedy gold guys, c'mon, laugh it up.

Once the elevator doors open, he barely has time to walk into the room before Henry's voice is loudly sounding out.

"Ay, look at this fucking loser, his ribs are worse!"

"Oh, what the fuck!"

Loud laughter erupts from what he sees is a couch, he sees Spectre, or Wilbur, doubled over laughing, Techno sitting there, looking at him over the back of the couch.

Tommy glares and if he gets fired for what he's about to do then so be, fucking, it.

"Wilbur, prepare yourself, for I am about to punt you." he's a decent man, he warns people before punting them. God, he's so poggers.

"Woah, woah, woah, what?" he laughs, straightening his posture and looking at Tommy with a confused yet amused smile on his face. He looks fucking stupid.

"I. Am. Going. To punt you."

"I'll pay you fifty bucks if you do!" Techno calls out, the twitch on his lips giving away his amusement.

Wilbur turns quickly to look at his brother "Techno!"

"You better keep that promise, big man!" and then.

He kicks Wilbur in the shin, because he's not about to kick a guy in the balls.

When Wilbur falls to the floor in pain, Techno stands up laughing, stumbling a bit towards him and wincing. Wilbur immediately looks up at Techno, eyes searching, Techno waves a hand at him dismissively, now walking without a limp towards Tommy. He seems to take out a fifty dollar note out of thin air (Tommy looks him up and down confusedly, he didn't have pockets) and handing it to Tommy.

Tommy looks at him strangely "You okay there big man?"

Techno shrugs turning to sit back down on the couch "Just got a bit roughed up during training, patrol didn't help much."

Tommy looks down at Wilbur, who's back at holding his shin in pain and muttering curses. Were those tears?

Then, the biggest man walks in through the elevator, maybe he could even be considered God himself. The only man ever.

Philza Minecraft.

"Which one of you shits reprogramed Henry."

Techno points at Wilbur, looking over some book he had picked up. Phil looks down at Wilbur, a disappointed look on his face.

Wilbur flips off Techno, knowing he was being accused without even having to look up. He slowly stands back up muttering something about Techno and legs before looking down at Philza. How dare he look down upon Philza when he deserves to be looked up at.

"Techno did, you know I got blocked from the system, Sam doesn't let me mess with Henry anymore." he crosses his arms, obviously disliking his inability to use the AI for his own benefit and amusement.

Phil nods, his own arms crossed, wings tight against his back as he finally looks over at Tommy. And Tommy just,

Well, Tommy freezes.

I mean, who wouldn't? It's Philza fucking Minecraft, are you kidding me?

And then Philza does this noise that sounds like a bird chirping, smiling at him, "Hey, you're Thomas, right? Pleasure meeting you, mate."

Tommy could die, he could die and he'd be happy.

Through the turmoil in his mind, Tommy is able to answer with a small "Pleasure."

"May I gently remind you that Thomas's ribs are worse than they were last time he was here?"

Wilbur's face morphs into one of panic, immediately moving closer to Tommy, babbling about the med bay or something like that.

"Pain killers are in the kitchen. Second drawer next to the fridge, the ones you're looking for are at the back." Techno comments offhandedly. In result, Wilbur pulls Tommy to sit at the kitchen counter while he looks for the medicine.

Either Techno has no care for his own safety during patrol and training or he's had to deal with Wilbur's injuries one to many times. Either way, it's concerning.

Philza follows them, calmly going over to the drawer Wilbur was looking through and pulling the pain killers out. Wilbur snatched them from his hands, taking out a water bottle from the fridge and giving it all to Tommy, panic still very much evident in his features.

Tommy quietly takes the pain killers, mostly for Wilbur's sake, his ribs didn't hurt that much.

"Bruised chest?" Philza asks, and of course he's going to answer, this is the only man ever.

"Uh, broken actually."

Philza blinks at him "Broken. Broken ribs."

"Well, here we go." Techno states.

"Why did you come to work?!" Phil stresses, looking him over just like Wilbur had done.

“Uh…” Tommy looks up at them, “Honestly? I was going to punt Wilbur.”

For a long moment the silence settles around them.

Before Techno burst out laughing across the room. “You are my new favourite person,” he doubles over clutching his stomach.

“You were gonna… what mate?”

“Punt… Wilbur,” he says slowly, looking at both of them for his reaction. “Okay. First of all, my interview was shit. Second of all, there were like… at least a hundred other people showed up and didn’t need to go to the medical floor.”

“Mate,” Phil says, glancing at Wilbur. “Your interview was good.”

“Wait, what?”

“Look,” Wilbur sits on the stool next to him. “We didn’t want some stuck up fuckin’ wanker.”

“Don’t swear, it’s his first day,” Techno adds, glancing up from a book… where the fuck did he get a book from? “Unprofessional. However,” he looks at Tommy, “If you kick Wilbur, I’ll pay you double time.”

“You don’t pay him,” Phil sighs.

Wilbur backs up, hands up in a defence, “Please don’t kick me again. I’ll do almost anything.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow, and looks at the both of them. “He’s scared of me?”

Phil sighs, and runs a hand down his face. “Have the painkillers, Wilbur, stop cowering… Techno, stop laughing. Tommy… you can keep doing whatever you’re doing I guess.”

“Thank you Philza Minecraft,” Tommy says, staring at Phil. Because if Philza Minecraft (the man, myth and legend himself) tells you to do something. You better do it. No questions asked.

He has the painkillers, with a practiced motion that makes Techno raise an eyebrow.

Wilbur still looks quite scared, and keeps his distance from Tommy.

Phil sighs, (again, he seems to be doing that a lot and it’s not like Tommy can exactly fault him for that.)

“Right,” Phil stands across from the counter. “So… you know what this job entails right.”

“Well… I read the email.”

“Did Wil not tell you, at your interview?”

“I was slightly occupied!” Wilbur replies, “Broken ribs and all.”

Phil rolls his eyes, and waves his hand, which shuts Wilbur up pretty quickly. (Good, Philza Minecraft deserves full respect from everyone.)

Tommy nods, still a bit… shaky. Because of Philza Minecraft. The man himself, with those fabulous wings… and the general coolness.

“One time you stopped a bus from falling-” he says, because he’s an idiot with absolutely no filter or control.

Phil smiles, one side of his mouth lifting up. He looks amused. As does Wilbur who’s also grinning.

“I did,” he confirms, amusement clear in his voice.

“You’re so cool,” Tommy sighs, “Philza Minecraft everyone.”

Wilbur laughs, shaking his head slightly as he did so. “Phil! We hired a fanboy!”

“Leave him alone,” Phil grins, “It might be nice to get at least a bit of respect around here… for a while.”

“Is someone disrespecting you?” Tommy asks, standing up and looking at Wilbur. “I will kick anyone disrespecting you. Are you disrespecting Philza Minecraft?”

“No!” Wilbur cries out, stumbling back and tipping over the back of a couch.

“It appears this fucking idiot, fell over the couch,” a robotic voice… Henry? Says through the room. “Get the fuck back up, Wilbur!”

Techno laughs again, clutching at his stomach.

“What happened to Henry?” Tommy asks.

“I appears that someone who is amazing hijacked my code. I would like to apologise for any things I say while I am a bitch.”

Tommy snorts, and looks at Phil.

Phil sighs.

“I am not dealing with this,” Phil says. “Tommy. Come with me. Wilbur… you have so much paperwork. Techno… rest up.”

“Yes, Dadza.”

“That’s copyrighted,” Techno adds lazily.

Phil shakes his head, and gestures to Tommy.

He gets up.

“Follow me.”

“Yes, Philza Minecraft.”

They walked a short distance, it really wasn’t that far. Down a hallway and to the left.

In the hallway there were ten doors, three of them had golden plaques (were they actually gold?) With Spectre, The Blade and Philza engraved onto them. The other seven didn’t have anything on them, they were just… brown doors.

“Here are our offices,” Phil says, as if Tommy couldn’t guess. “The ones across from us belong to… our team.”

“Team?”

“PR people. All that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Phil sighs, “We have entire floors dedicated to this shit. Here are our main people. We have agents and stuff up here. Your office space is…” he walks forwards, and taps on the door across from Wilbur’s office. “It’s not huge… but hey.”

The door swings open and Tommy stares at the office it revealed.

Sure it wasn’t big.

It had room for a desk, a bookshelf.

And a very, very fancy computer sitting on top of the desk. “Holy shit,” Tommy says, before slapping his hand to his mouth. “Am I allowed to swear?”

“Yes, mate,” Phil laughs, leaning against the doorframe. “So… basically, you’re helping us with paperwork and running the SBI social media pages?”

“Yup,” Tommy nods, “I did read the emails.”

Phil nods, seemingly amused by the entire situation. “So… you are aware that you are the only outsider who has access to any SBI social media accounts?”

Tommy blinks a few times, at Phil. “I’m what?”

“Well… Wilbur only trusts one other person with his accounts. Techno starts PR nightmares whenever they try to get their hands on his accounts.”

“Right,” Tommy blinks a few times. “Okay. Okay. So I basically make memes for SBI?”

“And do paperwork,” Phil says, still grinning. “Memes and paperwork… that’s why we wanted a young person, who’s not too uptight. Guess that’s you.”

“Yes, Philza Minecraft.”

Phil snorts, “Stop that, it’s just Phil.”

“Yes… Phil Minecraft.”

He snorts again, and shakes his head.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Phil says, “We should be just across the hall… we may not though. Then we’ll be in the living area, call out to Henry if you need us. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“He’s being a bit glitchy,” Phil scowls, ever-so slightly. “I think Techno got into his code, I’d say Wilbur otherwise… apart from the fact that he’s fucking banned.”

Phil shrugs, “The cafeteria is on level two, show them your keycard and you can get anything for free. Get used to the programs, passwords are in the book in the drawer. Feel free to bring anything you want.”

“Wait, what am I supposed to be doing?”

Phil laughs, “Get the account on your phone. Document our daily lives… turn it into… something, I dunno, PR said they wanted a day-in-the-life. Guess you could do that, honestly… I don’t really know.”

Tommy nods, before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Time to document the… exciting work of SBI.”

Phil laughs.

That’s how Tommy finds himself in the cafeteria, long before lunch. His phone propped up using a book and water bottle, while he sits in front of Philza Minecraft, and has been interviewing him.

He’s discovered that SBI live exceptionally boring lives… when they’re not… crime fighting or whatever. They do normal things, like cry-laugh at a video of a goat fainting (that was Wilbur) and burn toast (that was Techno.)

Tommy had decided this was going to be a terrible video unless he got something exciting to happen.

So now he’s interviewing Philza Minecraft. (The man himself.)

“So… Philza,” Tommy says, “You’ve answered the basic questions… that all true fans know. You know what not all fans know? What SBI is called SBI.”

Phil blinks at him. “What?”

“What does SBI stand for?” Tommy asks, mainly asking for himself. “I mean… it’s a pog name I guess, but has no meaning. It’s a bunch of letters. What, does it stand for… Salty Bitches Incorporated?”

“Close,” Phil grins, “Really close.”

Tommy watches Techno walk past the door.

“Oi! Techno!”

“Mate… I don’t think he’s in a great mood.”

Techno pauses mid-step, and whirls around, a murderous look in his eyes. “What.” He states.

Tommy decides to pick up his phone, and zooms it on Techno looking like he wishes for death. Because… he knows that’ll become a meme template, he just… knows it.

(The advantages of getting a younger person to do this, and suddenly it makes sense why they wanted a younger person to do this role.)

Techno stares, before pulling out a dagger.

It flies over Tommy’s head, and he screeches.

“What the fuck? You could’ve killed me.”

“I didn’t.” Techno deadpans, walking forwards and snatching the phone out of Tommy’s hand.

“Hey! Give that back!” Tommy reaches out, but Techno is grinning and has the camera pointed at him. “No! I’m behind the scenes, gimme the camera back.”

“And here,” Techno deadpans. “We have a wild Tommy, you often find him in his natural habitat… annoying Philza.”

Tommy grabs the water bottle that was holding the phone up and facing Phil. “I will punt you, bitch.”

“I’d like to see you try-”

Tommy throws the water bottle.

It hits Techno square in the forehead.

Tommy snatches the camera back, and picks up the water bottle he’s thrown on the ground. He looks at The Blade. The Blade looks back at him.

Then he starts running, and Tommy screams before hiding behind Phil.

“Phil! Phil! Save me!”

Phil laughs.

Somehow… Tommy survives that battle (what can he say, he’s just so smart like that, threatening to kick Techno somehow got his to back off, and will make a hilarious bit for the video which is going to be made out of this mess. He’s excited to edit it actually.)

Between that, Wilbur ranting about anteaters to Phil. (Who had looked straight at the camera and sighed, like it was the fucking office.) And the interview with Phil, he’s pretty sure it’ll be enough to make some sort of video.

Which leads Tommy to lunch, eating the roll that he was given. Sitting at a table, stuck between wanting to call Tubbo and Ranboo, and enjoying the silence at the table… look, it had been a lot.

The first day had been… a lot, and Tommy wants a nap.

Someone slams their hand against the table, and Tommy looks up.

To be met with Wilbur, looking down at him, eyes a mixture of concern and annoyance. Ah. Perfect.

“Hey,” Tommy says.

“How are your ribs?” Wilbur asks, sitting across from him.

Tommy thinks for a moment. He… isn’t feeling a lot, maybe a mix of high pain tolerance and just… being himself. “Doesn’t hurt,” he shrugs and bites into his roll. “I have a high pain tolerance, my roommates joke that I wouldn’t know if my leg wasn’t attached.”

It is a lame attempt at a joke, anything to make Wilbur laugh and get off his back. But it didn’t appear to work.

“That’s not always a good thing,” Wilbur says and Tommy hates how gentle he sounds as he says it. “Take care of yourself… please, you’re a good kid.”

“I’m fine.”

“He said. Like a liar.”

Tommy glares. Wilbur glares back, just as fierce.

“You sure?” Wilbur says, adjusting his glasses. “Because… you’re allowed to be a bit… y’know, not doing so great. I mean… you came in bruised twice.”

Tommy looks at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply. I don’t do subtext, just say it if you’re not a pussy.”

Wilbur opens his mouth, face flashing through several different emotions at once.

Tommy shrugs. “Look. Muggings happen.”

“Your ribs somehow got worse.”

“I’m not careful,” Tommy replies, and it’s not even that much of a lie. Just enough of the truth where he doesn’t feel too bad about lying to anyone. Half-truths, is what Tubbo calls them, and he’s gotten very good at telling half-truths. “I’m fine, it’s not even your job to worry about me.”

Wilbur blinks at him, something behind his eyes which Tommy couldn’t identify. “I can still worry about you.”

“Well, you don’t have to.”

“Okay then,” Wilbur says, apparently relenting. “Also… Henry said you had more bruises.”

“Fuckin’ snitch.”

“Oi!” He exclaims, “No Henry slander in this house.”

Tommy stares at him for a long moment. “It’s a fuckin’ AI.”

Wilbur looks like… Tommy just committed a crime. Or jumped up on the table, did a little dance and yelled out “I AM A VIGILANTE!” all things he did not do, he merely just stated that the AI was an AI, and therefore did not have any feelings.

“Take that back right now. You little shit.”

And at that moment.

Three things happen, almost in the span of a few seconds.

One. A gunshot echoes out across the room.

Two. Tommy managed to grab Wilbur and haul him to his side of the table. The side where the gunshot didn’t come from.

Three. Flip the table, so that they could hide behind it.

It happens quicker than Tommy can really process, and he’s behind the table, catching his breath as he tries to figure out what the best next action is. They can’t run out… whoever is… here might not even know. They could be looking the wrong direction entirely.

“Holy shit,” Wilbur whispered, “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“Don’t fucking move,” Tommy hisses back.

Another gunshot, and Tommy winces at the sound of it. “Fuck,” he muttered, spinning around so he can peer out from the side of the table.

Three guys. All with guns. Masks.

And are apparently taking hostages.

Tommy takes a deep breath.

“Is this what you meant when you talked about stressful situations?” He hisses.

Wilbur pauses, mulling it over. “Yeah.”

“Okay, cool, just checking,” Tommy peers around the table again. “How often does this fucking happen?”

“Not that often…” Wilbur says. “It’s difficult to get in here. Holy shit, is Kristin okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy sighs. “How good are you at phasing through bullets?”

“Shit!”

“Shut up, shut up,” Tommy hisses, rather not fancy getting shot today.

Wilbur hisses, checking around the edge of the table before sighing. “Great, my enhancements are basically useless.”

But mine aren’t. A voice whispers in the back of his head.

A plan is starting to form in Tommy’s head.

However… it involves a… scary situation, which is probably having a gun pointed at him, and him being used as leverage for Wilbur.

But… hey, he will win.

Tommy takes a deep breath, considering all the options for a long moment.

Then he looks at Wilbur. “I don’t wanna get shot today.”

Slowly he stands up, hands up in the air.

“No, Tommy!” Wilbur cries out.

Perfect.

Three heads turn to face them.

Three guns are pointed at Tommy and all he can do is take a deep breath, and pray that this isn’t the way he’s dying. Not when everything’s not looking like shit… for once in his sorry life.

“Was that Spectre?” Someone says, and points the gun a bit closer. “Aye, look at this kid.”

“Okay, I’m nineteen, what the fuck?”

“Shut it.”

For once, Tommy decides now is the time to shut up.

Now what he needs is. Wilbur, to be scared, and to surrender himself. To make a plan with Wilbur while just making eye contact, and maybe drop a piece of wall on them. Or do something when Wilbur isn’t looking.

Someone grabs him, and yanks him backwards.

Wilbur makes a noise, but stands up too. “Don’t hurt him.” He has both hands in the air. “Don’t hurt anyone here.”

“Dunno,” another one of them says, taunting “It’ll be fun to make a PR disaster. Kid gets shot… none of the heroes could save him.”

Tommy looks at Wilbur.

Wilbur looks back, something like recognition forming in his eyes.

“On the count of three,” Tommy mouths and Wilbur flicks his hair back, but it’s a nod.

Cool.

This would work fine.

Tommy takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

“One,” he mouths.

Wilbur looks ready to grab a chair and throw it.

“Two,” he mouths again, and Wilbur’s eyes have hardened.

Tommy is ready to headbutt.

“Three.”

He throws his head back, hearing something make a crack and whirling around. He grabs the gun, or the arms holding the gun, makes it point up towards the roof.

Still wrestling for the gun and with little hesitation, he fires it. His ears ring.

Making several holes in the ceiling, and probably making it incredibly unsturdy.

He fires it until the gun clicks, the magazine is empty. With a grunt, he yanks the gun out of the person’s hands and uses it to slap them across the face with it.

Wilbur is… somewhere, mostly translucent. Fighting and ducking.

Tommy grabs the gun, pointing it at the two men fighting Wilbur.

“Stop!” Tommy cries out, and is pointing the gun with a bit too steady hands for his liking. “Guns down.” He states, and two people are staring at him like he’s crazy…

One of the people staring at him like that is Wilbur.

“I will shoot,” Tommy says, hating how… steady he sounds. He’s supposed to sound at least a little scared, he’s never wielded a gun before. The gun won’t even fire… it’s fucking empty, it’s just a prop. “Weapons down.”

Two guns skitter across the floor and Tommy takes a deep breath.

“Right, everything’s resolved,” he stops pointing the gun at anyone. “Excellent. Now… Spectre, what do we do?”

Tommy watches one of the people, reach behind them, then when their arm goes back in front of them. They have a knife… and are running for Wilbur.

The other one has picked up the gun, and is steadying it. Pointed straight between Wilbur’s eyes.

Wilbur who isn’t currently translucent.

Wilbur who’s about to get stabbed or shot, or both if Tommy doesn’t do anything.

He glances up.

That section of ceiling could totally fall down… it’s been shot at, who’s going to see? No one’s here apart from him and Wilbur.

He concentrates his energy, balling it and then… he yanks down a section of ceiling.

It lands on top of the person with a knife, and hits the person who has the gun too.

Wilbur is by his side, and pulling him back away from the people and holding him close by the arm… the ceiling chunk on the floor, and the person trapped underneath it.

They’d be fine, ceiling bits didn’t hurt too much. It would cost more in property damage anyway.

Tommy lets himself stare at the mess. One of the people are unconscious (the one he pistol whipped), one of them is trapped under a bit of rubble, it’s not severe enough to kill, or really injure him, but still traps him. The one who had the gun, was on his knees, hands behind his head and gun thrown across the floor.

“Stressful enough situation for you?” Tommy whispers.

“Holy shit,” Wilbur whispers “Holy shit.” he says louder.

And yeah… yeah… holy shit sums it up pretty well.

Chapter Text

“Holy shit,” Phil says, pacing up and down in front of both Tommy and Wilbur.

They’re on the hospital floor, Tommy’s legs dangling over the edge of the bed, as a medic checks him absentmindedly. 

His ribs still hurt like a bitch, but otherwise… are alright, he’s had worse and he didn’t sustain anymore injuries. So he’ll survive this one, still the medic was checking over both him and Wilbur.

Wilbur did somehow get a cut across his nose.

(Tommy has no clue how, at what stage in that entire thing could Wilbur get a cut across his nose. “Roofing…” is all Wilbur had said and then shuddered like that explained a fucking thing.)

“Are you alright?” Wilbur asks, snapping Tommy out of his thoughts. “I mean… that was kinda a lot, you dealt with it well though.”

“I’m good.” 

Phil stops, clapping his hands together. “What the fuck?” He says, in a fake cheery tone. 

“Well,” Tommy claps his hands, matching the tone. “Some guys decided to attack the tower.” He claps his hands together again to match Phil’s energy. “And they were rootin’ and tootin’ and were gonna be shootin’.”

Wilbur stifles a laugh next to him. “I mean, kid’s ain’t wrong.”

“Wilbur, shut up,” Techno adds and Phil shoots him a grateful smile.

Techno is… glaring, straight at Tommy and he’s going to ignore that for a later time. A future him problem, as one might say.

Tommy swings his legs, mostly because he’s watching Phil walk back and forth and secondly because he doesn’t know jackshit about anything.

“Why?” Phil asks, looking up to the heavens. “Why hast thou forsaken me?”

“The fuck?” Tommy says, “Ain’t that… Shakespeare or some shit.”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow from the bed across from him. “You did graduate high school… right?”

“Yes!” Tommy says, and for once he isn’t even lying. He did online high school, the whole time and everything. His diploma is… somewhere, it’s probably being used as a fucking coaster.

Look… it’s a house of teenage boys. What do you expect?

Wilbur looks… doubtful, to say the least. “Oh yeah? How do you find the area of a right angled triangle?”

“Oi,” Tommy snaps. “You didn’t know what object permanence was.”

“I did!”

“Did not. You’re in denial.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Denial.” Tommy repeats. “Also, it depends… for the right angle thing. Maybe pythagoras… maybe sin, tan, cos, all that shit. Really, really depends. Half base, times vertical height.”

Phil sighs, “Boys!”

“Yes?” Wilbur replies, grinning like a shithead and Tommy does the same thing.

“We just had three people attack the tower.”

“Huh,” Tommy shrugs, “Really? Wilbur, do you hear this guy?”

“The tower was attacked?” Wilbur asks, fake shock lacing his point and Tommy’s suppressing his laughter. “Wow… someone should’ve told me.”

“Wait,” Tommy frowns, thinking about the process of him getting into the tower. 

He had gone through two security checks, and Kristin had given him the keycard which then gave him access to everything. But before that, he wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere apart from the foyer, and would’ve been escorted quickly after that.

“How did they get in?” Tommy asks.

The silence, and realisation sits around them for a long dreadful moment.

“Oh,” Phil says, rapidly paling. “Oh!”

“I dunno,” Techno deadpans, eyes deadly slits and directed at Tommy. “Why don’t you tell us, Thomas?”

“Woah!” Wilbur stands up, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I’m implying, Wilbur,” Techno says, tone dangerously level. “You said it yourself, Tommy dealt with it well.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, and is promptly ignored.

“Too well,” Techno continues, still glaring at Tommy. “What sort of nineteen year old just does that like it’s nothing?”

Tommy sighs internally.

There is a very clear course of action here… very, very clear.

Techno’s right, most nineteen year olds would be having mental breakdowns. Not just be sitting here like it’s another Wednesday, because… it kinda is another Wednesday to Tommy.

So the obvious option here is to… well, freak out.

And Tommy, he was a broke child once. He knows how to fake tears, fuck, he knows how to fake sob.

It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.

In the background, Tommy notices another hero. Dream. Famous for wearing a mask, and famous for never showing his face to anyone. Even now he’s wearing it, and a bright green costume which is as ugly as it is green.

Tommy tilts his head.

The man’s talking to another medic, but his gaze flickers over… at least he assumes that he has no way of actually knowing where the man is looking, but he can feel eyes on him.

“There’s something going on here,” Techno states, and points a finger at Tommy. “And you have something to do with it.”

And Tommy… Tommy is gonna guilt trip this man so hard.

He lets several tears drip from his eyes.

Then tries to wipe those tears away as quickly as he can, slapping his hand over his mouth.

Just to really sell it.

It seems to work, considering no one noticed.

But there are tear marks there.

Dream must have noticed, because he’s walking over, and pushes in between a still arguing Techno and Wilbur.

“Hey?” He asks, his voice all kindness. “Are you okay kid?”

Tommy nods and wipes at his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, it’s been a rough first day.”

Dream laughs.

“Look what you did!” Wilbur yells, “You made him cry!”

“Me?” Techno asks, and then looks at Tommy, his mouth slightly open. “Yeah… I probably did. And I’d do it again.”

“Please,” Phil sighs, “Not now.”

Tommy smiles, and lets it be watery.

Internally he is cackling.

This is the funniest thing he’s ever done in his whole damn life.

And he once watched Tubbo get his knee stuck in a mug (long story short, don’t try and fit your knee in a mug. It ends up with shards of mug everywhere.)

“You’re safe now,” Phil says, “And you did well.”

Tommy sees the golden opportunity.

If he’s gonna do this… he’s gonna commit.

So he bursts out into tears.

Then immediately curls up on himself, pressing his hands to his eyes and letting some ugly sobbing noises escape his mouth.

Damn. He really is selling this.

A bit too well-

“I was scared,” Tommy manages, through tears and hiccups which might not be fake anymore. “And I threatened someone with a gun, holy shit, I could’ve killed someone. The ceiling might have killed someone!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Phil says, and is crouching in front of Tommy. His eyes are so soft that it almost makes Tommy feel bad. “Everyone’s alright, what you did was right. You were really brave.”

Tommy laughs, and sniffs, and… damn he really isn’t faking these tears anymore.

“Pft,” Tommy sniffs to himself, “No one’s said that before.”

The look of concern on Phil’s face was almost laughable, but it still made Tommy feel slightly warm and fuzzy inside. Almost safe.

“Look what you did,” Wilbur whispers, and Tommy pretends he couldn’t hear it. “You made the kid cry!”

“Don’t tell me it isn’t fishy,” Techno says, apparently not even denying that he made Tommy cry. “That he rocks up…”

“It wasn’t him,” Phil snaps with an awful amount of confidence.

“There is a staggering amount of proof!” Techno yells.

“There’s actually no proof that Thomas is involved in any way.” Dream interrupts, making everyone look at him “He was the one I was immediately suspicious of, since he’s new here and all.” 

He picks up the tablet that’s usually attached to his belt, doing something on it before turning it for the four to see. It was camera footage of Tommy on the day of the interview “He was more concentrated in getting to his interview than anything else, he almost fell asleep in the waiting room as well.” He turns the tablet off “Also, seeing as he threatened to shoot someone for Wilbur, I highly doubt he has anything to do with the attack.”

Techno narrows his eyes at Dream “That doesn’t exactly prove him innocent.”

Dream nods “True, but it’s evidence. Again, I highly doubt Thomas is involved, just because he didn’t react immediately doesn’t mean anything, sometimes you just need someone to remind you of the situation for you to go into a state of shock. It’s normal.”

Techno’s expression shifts, but only for a moment, then he’s deadpan again.

"Delayed reaction," Phil says and looks pointedly at Techno. "You know about those."

Techno opens his mouth, closes it and generally just looks like a goldfish.

“Also,” Dream adds, “There’s this footage… it’s slightly spotty. But we can track where Thomas was the entire day. From getting past the security checkpoints to… now really, it’s a bit spotty when we were attacked.”

He turns the tablet to face Tommy. 

“In fact, the only still working camera is from the hallway. But you can just see Thomas… he’s those pixels,” he points to a slightly different colour of pixels on the screen. “Look. He is so small. It looks like he’d sneeze and snap in half.”

Tommy glares, and Dream just laughs.

Everyone stares at each other for a long moment. Not quite sure what to say.

So Tommy just looks at Techno. “You made me cry.”

Techno opens his mouth, closes it and then shrugs.

“Apologise.” Phil says, looking over his shoulder.

“What? No!”

“Apologise.” Phil repeats, and if Tommy didn’t know better, he’d say Phil sounds amused. 

“No! I’m not some kid, you can’t just force me to get along with people I don’t like.”

Phil gives a look. “I’ll change the Netflix password.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Techno turns, so he’s looking at Tommy. “Tommy… I am very, very, very sorry for making you cry and I will totally never do it again.”

“Techno!”

“Phil?”

“Apologise properly.”

Techno stamps his foot against the ground and groans. “Phil.” He draws out the word impossibly long, and Phil just smiles into his hand. “Phil. Please.”

“Apologise, mate.”

Techno takes a deep breath, and his face screws up like he’s in the most pain that he’s ever been in. “I… Techno, am sorry that I made you. Thomas- what’s your last name?”

“Underscore,” Wilbur adds, and is met with several confused eyes. “What? I interviewed him.”

“You remembered it?” Tommy asks, and grins. “But yes. Thomas Underscore.”

Techno takes another deep breath, and screws up his face again. “Thomas Underscore, for making you cry. Despite the fact that you’re incredibly sketchy… and despite the fact there were no witnesses apart from you and Wilbur, you’re unreliable and Wilbur was busy.”

“There’s some camera footage,” Dream says, and gestures vaguely at his blank tablet. “It’s all glitched out though, a bunch of red spots show up in the video… it’s really, really weird honestly. But it’s done that before.”

“Red spots?” Techno asks, stopping his apology. “Huh?”

“Eh,” Phil waves a hand, “The cameras here are sketchy… that’s saying the least, we should really invest in better cameras.”

Tommy pulls a face, and blinks a few times. “Wait, what?”

“Well, we don’t really count on people getting in-” Techno starts.

Phil gives him a look.

“I’m sorry for making you cry,” Techno mutters, “There. Happy?”

“Sorry,” Tommy grins, tilting his head a little. “I didn’t hear you.”

Techno basically deflates, and Dream chuckles to himself. Wilbur is grinning into his hand and Tommy… is having the best time of his life.

“You heard him,” Phil shrugs.

Techno opens his mouth. “I’m sorry. Tommy.” He grits out, like every single word is paining him and stabbing him in the leg or anything. Then Techno looks at Phil, his expression blank, but somehow still being offended. “I hate you.”

And Tommy… Tommy lets himself laugh.

(Even if it hurts his ribs.)

After he’s controlled his laughter, Wilbur is also grinning.

“You should go home mate,” Phil says, “It’s been a long day. You deserve the day off.”

“I’ll drive him!” Wilbur says, standing up from his bed and grinning widely.

Tommy resists the urge to groan, and runs a hand down his face. “The tower gets attacked once and I gotta go home?”

“Yes.”

“Right,” Tommy sighs, “Cool.”

Phil snorts, and Wilbur gives a wider grin, before throwing his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and hugging him a bit too tight. 

So. That was the long, and short, of how Tommy was put into a car. With Spectre… y’know a proper superhero.

The car was a real fancy one, electric and shit, charges. It was a sleek car too, looking all fancy like, and was going to stick out like a fucking neon giraffee in the artic.

It was too bad Wilbur was a shit driver.

In fact, he was so shit at driving, that fucking, Tubbo. Tubbo Underscore, who couldn’t drive, and was never allowed to hold a license (legally too, the government said so. Long story.) Would be crying at the way that Wilbur drove.

He drove like it was Mario Kart.

“You drive like shit!” Tommy yells, gripping onto the dashboard.

“I’m driving like a normal fucking person!”

“You cut in front of that other car! This is why we need to eat the rich!”

Wilbur huffs, and spins the wheel in a way that had Tommy slamming against the side of the door.

Tommy screeches, because, ouch, his ribs but also mostly for the fun of it, and to annoy Wilbur (two birds, one stone and all that shit). 

“Holy shit!” Wilbur screeches back, “I’m not even that bad!”

“Trust me,” Tommy laughs, a mixture of fear and… yeah no, just fear. “You are! I have driven with people who the government has said can never get a licence and- ah!”

Again, he’s thrown against the side of the door.

This really can’t be good for his poor, poor, innocent ribs. 

They halt to a stop and Tommy’s thrown forwards slightly in his seat, seatbelt slamming against his front.

“Fuck!” Tommy yells, and takes a long moment to regain any thoughts that are practical. He’s breathing heavily and looking at Wilbur, like he’s crazy. Wilbur just… looked like he was a little bit crazed.

“Holy shit,” Wilbur laughs, his face alight with something. “We should be dead.”

“You were driving like that… on purpose?”

“Yup,” Wilbur grins, then his face drops, “Are your ribs okay?”

“Yeah,” Tommy smiles, wincing slightly. “I’m good.”

Wilbur doesn’t look convinced, but he nods slowly. 

“Techno doesn’t mean it,” Wilbur says, not quite looking at Tommy. “The whole accusation thing, he knows he’s talking shit but… years on this job give you some trust issues. He’s worse than the rest of us, but… he doesn’t mean it. Techno also doesn’t know how to apologise.”

“A shock.” Tommy deadpans and Wilbur snorts.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says. “He’s just scared of us getting hurt, and no offence, but you’re the easiest to lash out on when there’s an unknown factor here.”

“Someone on the inside helped them,” Tommy says thoughtfully, and glances out of his window. “Who was in the tower at the time?”

“Don’t mind it,” Wilbur puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. It’s fleeting, but the touch is nice. “Let us figure it out, just… do your job and have fun. You’re young.”

Tommy nods, and moves his shoulder to brush Wilbur’s hand away.

He looks up and around.

The apartment… does not look great. Tommy will give them that, there are bits of it falling apart. One of the mailboxes against the wall doesn't close properly, there are newspapers, bits of paper and… the door up to the landing didn’t close right.

He wrinkles up his nose.

“You live like this?” Wilbur asks.

Tommy stares at him for a long moment, he takes off his seatbelt, and opens the door slowly. “Well, not all of us make a hero wage. Or were adopted by some netherite transport millionaire who also happens to be one of the biggest heroes in the world.”

“Okay,” Wilbur says. “Okay, fine, you win this one.”

“I’m living pay cheque to pay cheque, Wilbur,” Tommy laughs, stepping out of the car. “You’re going to win in the long run.”

“Huh?”

Tommy looks at Wilbur, closing the car door as Wilbur gets out of his side.

“Well… any medical bills will fuck me up,” Tommy says, walking towards the door and wiggling it to get it open. “Anything really… my roommates don’t have any cover either.”

Wilbur blinks at him, “Surely you get medical, vigilante, villain and hero cover… while working with us. You have to, right?”

“Maybe, not necessarily a given,” Tommy held the door open and Wilbur winced at the stairs. 

Look. The stairs weren’t the best. Only one of them was falling apart, and that one was intact just enough for Tommy to climb up it. Ranboo could step over it, Tommy could step on the supports under the step.

Tubbo… Tubbo struggled, that’s for sure.

He clambered up, and reached his door.

“You fuckin’ live like this?” WIlbur asks, again, nose wrinkled at some of the dodgy stains.

“Don’t touch those,” Tommy adds, he pauses, wriggles the door handle and sighs. “It’s fuckin’ locked.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t worry, there’s a fire escape. Be right back.”

Tommy runs down the stairs, and hears footsteps behind him. Looking back over his shoulder he looks at Wilbur, who is following him, phone at the ready and grinning.

“Gotta get the proof, y’know.”

Tommy sighs and goes around to the back.

There are several dumpsters. Made for the sole purpose of clambering up to the fire escape to unlock the door. 

He pulls himself up, and onto the escape, before walking the short distance to the window. He opens it, before looking at Wilbur, who is trying to pull himself up onto the fire escape and looks like a fish.

Tommy laughs. “You look so fuckin’ stupid.”

Wilbur looks up at him, “How the fuck did you do that so easily?”

“Look,” Tommy crouches down, but does not offer a hand. Instead just smiling at Wilbur. “You’re a rich kid, you can see it in your eyes and the faces you pulled. Let’s just say, I grew up being posted through windows to unlock doors.”

“You scare me.”

“Good.” Tommy grins, and offers his hand. 

Eventually they’re both settled inside, and Wilbur is walking around, judging everything.

“I can not believe that you live like this.”

Tommy looks around, it’s pretty clean. For them at least, it’s not… gross, there’s just things everywhere.

Wilbur looks around, and picks up the remote (which was stacked precariously on a stack of bowls, plates and cutlery that Tommy was planning on washing.) The TV turns on and the news channel fades into the background.

 His fucking diploma is being used to hold up part of a bookshelf. He hums, in amusement to himself.

“There’s my diploma,” Tommy adds and gestures at the bookshelf. “Holding up the bookshelf, you can read it if you’d like.”

Wilbur does, or at least crouches down and pretends to read it. He pulls a face and grimances. “This is… concerning.”

“This is how I live, prep boy. Did you go to a private school?”

“Yeah.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Phil said… about five thousand per semester.”

Tommy whistles, it's low and he rolls his eyes. "Gee… eat the rich. That could buy so much rent here."

Wilbur looks at him, eyes legitimately confused. “Alrighty, there’s a class gap.”

“I’d fuckin’ say,” Tommy mutters, unlocking the front door and gestures at Wilbur. “Alright mate, get the fuck outta the building. You dropped me off, went up a fire escape. Showed the vast socioeconomic differences and that you’re a privileged, rich, white kid.”

Wilbur smiles, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh fuck off with that,” Tommy says, and puts his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders and starts pushing. “I don’t need any of your fuckin’ sympathy, it’s the way things are here.”

He starts pushing at Wilbur, and Wilbur obliges and starts walking towards the door.

“Vigilantes are starting to team up,” the reporter says through the TV and Wilbur freezes. Tommy does too, but for what he guesses is a completely different reason. Tommy looks up at the reporter.

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Reports from around the country say that vigilantes… are starting to make teams. Similar to SBI or The Dream Team, they’re starting to work together. Who is behind this cohesive network, is yet to be known.”

Wilbur screws up his face.

Tommy grins.

“Why are you grinning?” Wilbur asks.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Tommy looks at the TV and it moves along to someone else talking about the impacts of this. “Vigilantes are like superheroes… but don’t have people telling them shit to do. They’re quicker and have less rules and regulations to go around.”

“That’s what makes them so dangerous.”

“Haven’t you seen that video?” Tommy asks, “The one of that one hero waiting at a burning building, because he didn’t have permission from the higher ups and Purpled runs in and does the hero's job for him.”

Wilbur pulls a face.

“Also,” Tommy adds, “No one patrols here.”

“Wait, what?”

“They call Logstechire ‘where the exiled go’ for a reason,” Tommy muses, and Wilbur looks slightly horrified. “Go and sleep in your fancy bed.”

Wilbur leaves.

Tommy is left by himself for a while.

So, like the good roommate he is, he cleans.

The dishes were cleaned, things were put away. Shoes were lined up neatly, and Tommy even got so bored he started actually looking at what food was out of date, and what the groceries looked like for next week.

He’s back on the couch eventually, in a slightly too clean apartment, (he even cleaned his room and cleaned Ranboo’s side of Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s shared room. Tubbo’s stayed untouched… he’d learnt better after the incident of the on-fire apartment.)

That’s how he finds himself in front of Tubbo’s laptop, paying too much for editing software and going fucking ham. Mostly out of boredom, and something to occupy his hands with as he waits for his other two roommates to return.

(It’s only just past three, Tubbo normally gets back around four and Ranboo normally gets back around five or six.)

Something about editing was… almost relaxing, it was never difficult and Tommy had fun doing it. Between some good teachers, and classes in his final year of high school, it had been a fun time.

The door opens, and both Ranboo and Tubbo stumble in.

“Hello?”

“There was an attack,” Tubbo pants out, gripping onto the wall. “On the tower. We had to check on you, are you okay?”

“What a first day.”

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs, “I interviewed Phil, almost got killed by Techno, got my own office. Got a gun pointed at me, then threatened someone with an empty gun, got blamed, started crying to throw them off… got a lift home from Wilbur and locked out, so I went through the fire escape and Wilbur followed me. Found out that he hated vigilantes.”

Ranboo whistles, lowly, “That’s quite a first day.”

“Yeah…” Tommy mutters, “Yeah, I’d say it is.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Tubbo says, “I haven’t run this fast in my life. You weren’t responding to messages.”

Tommy looks at his phone, on the couch, and reaches over to pick it up. Sure enough, there are several messages from Tubbo and Ranboo. There’s even one from Wilbur. (When did Wilbur get his number?)

He smiles, “Thanks, Tubbo.”

Tubbo grumbles, and stomps over. 

But throws his arms around Tommy nonetheless, and hugs him tightly.

“I hate you,” Tubbo grumbles. “I’m going to steal your wallet.”

And considering Tubbo gave him that warning, Tommy would guess that Tubbo already had it. 

When Tubbo let go, he was holding Tommy’s wallet in one hand, and his phone in the other hand. “Found anything good?” Tubbo opens his wallet and starts looking through it.

“Good ol’ Tubbo,” Ranboo mutters. 

The silence settles, it’s not uncomfortable, the silence has never been uncomfortable when it comes to them. Some odd mix of being each other’s friends and families and caring about each other.

Tommy relaxes into the couch.

Knowing his luck, this peace will not stay this way for too long.

Chapter Text

“Tubbo.”

Silence.

“Tubbo.”

A bit more silence.

“Tubbo.”

A sigh, but still Tommy was being ignored.

“Tubbo,” Tommy complained, “I’m hungry.”

“Ugh,” Tubbo looks up from his maths. Maths that Tommy couldn’t even look at without wanting to be sick. “Boo boy.”

Ranboo looks up from his book, giving a blank look at everyone. Like he’d rather be literally anywhere else other than here. “Yes.”

“Make food,” Tubbo says, looking back down at his maths work.

“Why me?”

“Because we hate you,” Tommy deadpans, “Couldn’t we just order something?”

Tubbo and Ranboo both look at him, looking slightly offended that he’d even think of that.

“Does it look like we can afford that?” Ranboo says and Tommy sighs.

“I’m hungry.”

“You can survive one day without eating,” Ranboo says, “We literally don’t have anything, or any money.”

“Ranboo.”

Ranboo looks at him, it’s slightly sympathetic, but first and foremost, it’s tired. A sort of tired that is deep set into his bones, and if Tommy didn’t feel that. “Look, we don’t have anything. I get paid tomorrow, you get paid…”

“In another week,” Tommy sighs, “How far can we push our money until then?”

“We can do that,” Tubbo says, glancing up from his maths. “Just buy bread and one of those packs of sausages… that’ll be like ten dollars and get us through.”

Ranboo looks at Tubbo for a long moment, he in fact sets his book down at his side, “Nutrition? Isn’t Tommy vegetarian?”

“No,” Tubbo and Tommy chide, at the same time. “We can’t afford to be vegetarian,” Tubbo adds at the end. 

“Meat makes him sick,” Ranboo argues, which is a good argument, “He can’t just eat it for a week.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy says, “I’ve done worse. I’ll just be a bit weaker… I’ll avoid patrol or something.”

Ranboo sighs, but picks up his book again, and glances at Tommy. “We can probably afford some ramen… or something.”

“Maybe,” Tubbo says, “Hopefully.”

They could not afford more than a few ramen cups. Three… then they needed to save the rest for rent, bills and then throw a little bit into the savings account… which was slowly (very slowly) rising, hopefully it could be spent on something more one day.

The days ploddle on, with Tommy and his interesting diet.

Making him feel worse and worse each day.

Wednesday was a fine day at work. He finished up editing that video (that took the entire day) and didn’t eat any food at the cafeteria, because his stomach was lurching dangerously the entire day.

Thursday… was slightly worse. He’d talked with Wilbur at some point, but he’d felt too sick to even notice anything, and he didn’t even do any work. He sat in his office and tried not to vomit too much.

He knew Friday wasn’t going to be great. Before it even started.

“Hello!” Kristin says, her voice cheery and Tommy gave a smile. “Oh… you don’t look so well, do you need to go home?”

“Gotta get that money,” Tommy manages, his stomach flipping and the feel of complete nausea. “The grind never stops.”

Kristen smiles, and nods, “Go on in.”

Tommy does, clutching at his bag and taking some careful steps. Trying not to let the tidal way of… whatever spill.

It was easy enough to pull a face and keep on his way to the office.

He did the work asked of him, and started to get a hold over what sort of social media they used. Who the SBI accounts needed to follow to look good, and read more about algorithms than he could ask for in a lifetime.

Overall, it was a pretty good start to the day.

Which was shattered, when Tommy forces himself away from his desk and bolts to the nearest bathroom.

Then he lands on the ground, and everything that was in his stomach is now in the toilet bowl.

Tommy groans, clutching onto either side of the toilet bowl and lurches again.

His mouth tastes of vomit, and the general feeling of sadness, and he groans again as he feels the vomit rise up in him and clutches onto the toilet, knuckles turning white.

He sighs, and turns around, leaning against the toilet and sighing. Grabbing his phone, he looks at himself staring back at the camera. Kindly put, he looks like a fucking mess, his hair is completely ruined, with his ponytail slipping out, his eyes are tired and he looks like he’s sick… which he is, but… shit.

“Shit,” Tommy vocalises, the first thing which isn’t him retching, sighing or being in pain. “Great luck,” he mutters, mostly a bitter thing. “Guess I’ll die here.”

For a while, he sits there in silence.

Then there are heavy footsteps, and a knock on the door.

“Tommy.”

Ah. The Blade, great, fantastic, the only man who actively hates him here and was going to throw hands with him.

“I know you’re in here, I looked at the security cameras.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy says, kicking at the door. “Let me die in peace.”

“As much as I’d love to,” Techno says, and he sounds like there isn’t one word of lie in that sentence, “I believe Wilbur would kill me. Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just chose to hide in here, you’re so smart.”

“Okay. What’s wrong?”

And… Tommy’s body, while it has been beaten and abused at the hands of himself doing patrol. While his ribs are constantly in some sort of pain and he’s constantly covered in some sort of bruises.

His body always gets the last laugh.

Because, that was the moment when he lurched and turned around frantically, clutching onto the toilet bowl and vomited.

It was an ugly sound.

Techno makes a noise, it sounds just as painful as Tommy’s retching. “Right,” Techno says and sighs. “What happened?”

“Haven’t been eating right,” Tommy managed, shocked at his honesty. He needs a lie, and he needs a lie quickly. He’s not powered to these guys, he’s powerless, named Thomas Underscore and nineteen. “Parents were some sort of avian hybrid, I can’t eat meat.”

“Oh,” Techno says, “Wait… why haven’t you been eating properly?”

“Money,” Tommy grits out and clutches the toilet bowl, his stomach lurches, but he doesn’t throw up. “I needed something… I can’t just eat bread.”

Techno sighs, “There isn’t much else to do but wait it out,” he says. His voice is… slightly softer than usual. Not a huge amount, but just enough for Tommy to notice.

“I fuckin’ hate this,” Tommy says, meaning every word.

It’s cramped, Tommy’s sitting in a weird way, his throat hurts and his hands hurt from gripping onto the side of the toilet bowl. It’s his… third day at work, and it feels like everything is already falling apart.

“Wow this has been a shit show,” Tommy laughs and he knows how bitter it sounds. “I’ve really fucked this job up.”

“Not really,” Techno says, “You can always do worse.”

“Thanks. Really helpful.”

“No problem,” Techno adds, and Tommy can hear the smile in that prick's voice. “Look… you haven’t been fired, even if you were fired, you’d get a letter of recommendation from one of us. That guarantees you most jobs.”

Tommy huffs.

Techno makes a non-committal sound.

“Look,” Techno says, “I’ve thrown up in this bathroom before. It is not the best throwing up bathroom. We have better ones.”

“Supportive,” Tommy muses, but pauses. “Which one’s the best?”

“The one at my apartment,” Techno laughs, “Wilbur’s is… okay, slightly too much room to sit against the wall. Phil’s house isn’t great, his toilet is separate and it’s all cramped. The ones in the tower aren’t great.”

“You don’t live together?” Tommy asks weakly.

“We’re all adults, Tommy, of course we don’t.”

“You’re all liars to the media,” Tommy manages, and his stomach lurches dangerously again. “Next you’ll tell me you don’t have family dinners.”

“That’s true,” Techno adds, sounding very amused. “Sometimes we’ll just sit on top of the tower and eat Chinese food. Are you scared of heights?”

“No.”

“Cool, just checking. Knowing Phil, he’s gonna put you up there at some point.”

“Looking forward to it.” Tommy muses.

He feels the vomit rising, and pauses, moving so he’s in a slightly better spot and gags… much to his disgust, he doesn’t vomit anything, only saliva and he groans at the strain that puts on his throat.

Wow. He really fucking hates this.

“You’re alright,” Techno says, and the door is open… somehow, and Tommy isn’t going to think about it too hard. “This bit always sucks.”

Tommy tries to nod, but feels nauseous again and basically puts his head half way into the toilet bowl. It’s… not the most glamorous place Tommy’s ever been in, but hey, at least this toilet is clean… and not a public toilet.

That was not a good time in Tommy’s life.

Techno doesn’t say anything when Tommy gets his face out of the toilet bowl, instead he brandishes a hair band and ties the top part of his hair out of his face.

Tommy mutters a thanks, but it’s muffed with the sounds of Tommy retching again.

Techno has a hold of some of the strands of hair that the pony tail didn’t quite manage. And Tommy is… surprisingly okay with it.

His ponytail gets redone, with less strands and he groans while clutching onto the toilet like his entire life depends on it. “I can eat chicken,” Tommy muses, in a moment of calmness.

“Aren’t you part avian?”

“Parents were,” Tommy says, “The irony isn’t lost on me.”

“Chicken’s cheap.”

“Not fuckin’ cheap enough,” Tommy mutters, “Hence why I’m here.”

Tommy lurches forwards and vomits again. Techno mutters something behind him, but considering Tommy’s face was half way in the toilet… he didn’t hear whatever Techno had to say.

“Pardon?” Tommy asks, wiping his mouth on the bottom of his shirt. It’s gross, that’s for fucking sure, but still, not the lowest point in his life. That award would have to go to… another time. 

“We need to move,” Techno says, sounding strained “This can not be practical for you.”

“I’m not vomiting into a bucket.”

“We have an entire medical floor. You need water, at least.”

“Ugh.”

Still, Tommy lets Techno help him up onto his feet and takes a few careful steps with Techno walking behind him. They’re careful steps, and Techno looks like he’s about to either cuss Tommy out, or catch him if he falls.

Tommy really hopes he’ll get caught.

“You need to watch your diet,” Techno says, “You still need protein and stuff.”

“I don’t like eggs,” Tommy manages, walking past a nice looking pot plant. 

“Chicken is protein,” Techno says, “You need chicken.”

Tommy laughs, and the pair of them manage to get into the elevator. Without Tommy throwing up, it’s quite impressive.

“You’ll be vomiting until you can get… whatever, out of your system.”

He nods, and grips onto the bar inside the elevator. It dings, all nice like as well. 

The elevator shifts to a start and as it does so, Tommy feels the vomit rise up in his guts. He leans over, and there’s a vomit bag being shoved in front of him, which Tommy grips like the entire world depends on it and vomits for what feels like the thousandth time.

Tommy looks up, and Techno looks both concerned and smug, despite looking quite pale. 

“Piss off,” Tommy manages, he glances down at the vomit bag and then looks at Techno and smiles slightly. “I fuckin’ hate you.”

Techno shrugs and the elevator dings open. 

The medical floor every time Tommy has been here (three times… that’s worrying to say the least), has been at least a little bit busy. With people bustling, and a range of injuries, from scratches… to people being hid behind giant sheets and quiet whispers.

Yeah… Tommy didn’t love this place.

Techno sighs, “Alright. You’re going to sit down. Probably vomit for a bit. Then I’ll get you some KFC.”

“I haven’t had it in so long,” Tommy says wistfully and smiles. “Probably back when I was little.”

“Let’s move on from how upsetting that is. You deserve some chicken.”

Tommy laughs, it’s a short thing, before he’s sitting on a bed. Surrounded by vomit bags.

Techno spots Wilbur, and walks over to him. They both keep glancing at Tommy, and Wilbur sighs, rolls his eyes and looks back at his phone. 

They keep talking, occasionally glancing at Tommy.

And about ten minutes later, a poor intern walks in with a bucket filled with deep fried chicken and Tommy pretends he doesn’t notice until the bucket is essentially dumped on the bed.

Tommy puts it on his lap, and starts going at it. If he vomits all of this up, then he’s not going to be too upset. 

The chicken is… so good, it’s been so long since he’s had chicken. Let alone KFC, the greasiest, unhealthiest thing ever 

“We can’t let Phil know,” Wilbur says as he gets closer. “We can’t have a repeat of The Great Chicken Incident of 2018.”

“No,” Techno shudders slightly and shakes his head. “If Phil finds out… we’re doomed.”

“The what?” Tommy asks, mouth stuffed with deep fried goodness. “Huh?”

Techno shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. Wilbur, keep Phil away from the medical floor-”

“Why?” A voice that is Philza Minecraft, the man himself says. 

Both Techno and Wilbur jump. Wilbur screeches, Techno pulls a knife from… somewhere, (where did he get the knife from.) Techno then moves so that he’s in front of Tommy, and Tommy can’t see Phil.

“Phil!” Wilbur exclaims. “Hello!”

“What are you hiding?” Phil says straight away, and if Tommy could see him, he imagined Phil trying to look past them. “Techno… Wilbur… who is hiding behind you two?”

Techno and Wilbur glance at each other.

“Why do you think that?” Wilbur steps to the side, and blocks Phil’s view. “Honestly, Techno is anyone here?”

“Nope.” Techno says and Tommy can imagine how awkward that Techno’s being. “No one. In fact… let’s go and just, go on patrol. Yup. Patrol.”

Phil sighs, and picks up Wilbur like it’s nothing. 

Puts him back on the ground and looks at Tommy, mouth open.

Techno covers his ears, and dives over the bed.

Wilbur looks… terrified.

Tommy bites into the drumstick and grins at Phil. “Hey.”

“You’re… part avian,” Phil says, “Your records say that you’re part avian.”

“That is correct,” Tommy grins and bites into the chicken leg. “So I can’t eat meat.”

“You’re eating chicken!” Phil yells, “You are part bird.”

“Uh… not really.”

“Phil,” Techno starts, peering out from behind the bed. “It’s his choice-”

“Who ordered it?” Phil asks. “Why is a part… avian eating chicken. ”

“I don’t like eggs,” Tommy adds and puts one of the bones into the bucket and again, grins at Phil. “What’s wrong Phil?”

“I will fire you.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. 

Now… his body gets the last laugh.

Because he vomits… on Philza Minecraft’s shoes.

It’s a little bit funny.

A little.

Not a lot though, because Tommy will never live this down.

He vomited on his idol. Philza Minecraft, the only man ever.

This is it. This is his lowest moment. 

Not when his parents died, or when he thought he lost Tubbo in the mall, or when Ranboo teleported him and Tommy vomited on their carpet.

This. Vomiting on Philza fucking Minecraft.

He’s going to kill Techno. Find a sharp chair, and stab Techno with it. Wilbur too.

Phil looks at Tommy, then at his shoes.

Then at Tommy again, and then at his shoes once more. With a tired sort of sigh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Philza Minecraft, I am so sorry.”

Wilbur has his hand over his mouth and is laughing. Techno is turned away and clutching his stomach, Tommy can't tell if he finds it as funny as Wilbur does.

Tommy can’t help but smile a little.

It’s a little bit funny.

Phil opens his mouth, closes it and sighs. “I liked these shoes too.”

“I will get you new ones.”

“You can’t afford them,” Wilbur and Techno chorus between Wilbur's fits of laughter.

“Shit,” Tommy says, “Philza Minecraft… I am very sorry.”

Phil sighs, “C’mon mate, let’s get you somewhere comfier.”

That’s how Tommy was basically manhandled, and thrown on the couch in the SBI living area part of the tower. 

(Floor 69, Wilbur had thought of it apparently which is objectively hilarious and anyone who says differently is wrong. It’s comedic gold at it’s finest and Tommy laughs as they go up in the elevator.)

He’s on the couch.

With a bucket.

Phil has a new pair of shoes.

Phil mumbles under his breath, pacing back and forth. Pausing. Opening his mouth to yell at Techno and Wilbur. Closes his mouth again and continues the never-ending process of Phil trying to find the words to say.

“He needs nutrition,” Techno points out. “If he doesn’t like eggs… chicken is the best thing. That he can eat without vomiting on your shoes.”

Phil stops, and glares at Techno.

Techno withers and looks down at his shoes, muttering something that Tommy doesn’t quite hear.

Wilbur passes a glass of water over to Tommy who drinks it, and tightens his grip around the bucket. 

He is not going to throw up on Philza Minecraft again. Not ever.

Phil sighs. “It’s chicken!”

“It’s fine,” Tommy says, and Phil looks at him. “I only got the downsides. Chicken is good.” 

Phil makes a strangled sounding noise, like a cat being kicked. “It’s fucking chicken!”

“Have a problem?” Tommy says, and is rudely cut off by him vomiting into the bucket. (Not onto Philza Minecraft’s shoes, so he’s doing alright in that regard.) He gets his head out of the bucket again and looks at Phil. “Chicken is good. I will continue to eat it.”

Phil sounds like he’s in legitimate pain. “Fine,” Phil says, in a false cheery voice and Tommy… is slightly scared. “Okay. Eat your chicken, you murderer.”

Tommy nods slowly, and responds by vomiting into the bucket.

Thankfully, the vomiting slows down eventually. So that Tommy’s settled on the couch, holding his bucket, until Wilbur wordlessly takes it from him and goes to put it away.

Techno is sitting on the seat across from Tommy. “You have free food at the cafeteria,” he says and Tommy blinks at him. 

“Huh?”

“Free food,” Techno says, and doesn’t quite look at Tommy. “Okay? Get some proper food… here at least. They have salads and rolls and stuff.”

“Right.” Tommy says and nods, “Thank you.”

“Pft,” Techno laughs, “No issue. You don’t weigh enough for a nineteen-year-old.”

“Huh?”

“Your body mass is closer to a fifteen-year-old,” Techno shrugs easily. “Eat more.”

“Oh,” Tommy says and gives a small smile. This one’s going to be fun to try and play off. Thanks Henry. “Henry, the fuckin’ snitch.”

Techno shrugs again, “I get that it can be rough in Logstechire… but it’s very rare for it to be that bad. You’re nineteen, right?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says and his voice cracks. Hopefully Techno thinks it’s because he’s embarrassed, not because he’s scared he’ll sell himself out. “Yeah… I am.”

Tommy may need to burst out into tears again. That is something he can totally do.

Techno tilts his head, and his face doesn’t give anything away. 

Tommy looks at him, and shifts under Techno’s stare.

“What happened?” Techno asks, “There’s something more going on here.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

And they leave it at that, and Tommy has never been as grateful for anyone else in his entire goddamn life. The silence… was heavy, with Techno still glancing at him every few seconds, and Tommy wrapping his arms around his legs and hugging his legs.

The only noise is the news channel, making noise in the back, noise that Tommy isn’t quite focusing on.

Tommy blinks away tears from his eyes. He’s not crying again. 

Techno clears his throat, and Tommy turns so he’s looking at him.

“I saw that video,” Techno says, “That you edited and shot. It was really good.”

“Thanks.”

“You were a good hire.”

“No one checked that I could fuckin’ edit,” Tommy muses, “You didn’t ask for an application video. Or anything… Wilbur didn’t even finish the interview.”

Techno just looks at him, “Don’t expect reassurance, I have no clue why you were hired.”

“Cool,” Tommy mutters, “Good to know.”

“I’m pretty sure Wilbur fought for you,” Techno says, like that in itself isn’t absolutely shattering his world. “Phil… wanted to hire someone else, I did too, but Wilbur insisted. Now we have an accident-prone worker who does some good editing work.”

Tommy smiles, it’s a short thing.

And shockingly enough, Techno smiles back. 

“Don’t think I still don’t think you’re dodgy,” Techno says, and puts his feet on the coffee table. “There’s something going on with you, Thomas Underscore, and I’m not too attached to you to figure it out.”

Tommy laughs, and shakes his head.

"Techno, you okay?" Phil asks quietly, as if making sure no one else could hear.

And now that he thinks of it, Techno looks quite pale, the kind of pale you get when you see something extremely gross and it makes you sick. Techno just nods at Phil.

“Ugh,” Wilbur says, walking back and shaking water off of his hands. “Why does the news just cover vigilantes now?”

Tommy glances at the TV for the first time, sure enough, it’s the news channel, talking about vigilantes and how they’re becoming more cohesive and the potential that they have to either overthrow the government, or save thousands of peoples lives.

It’s not exactly uncommon.

In class Tommy used to argue for, (or against) the ethicality of vigilantes. Of course they did, in a world with heroes, vigilantes and villains, those things were discussed in class.

“Vigilantes are cool,” Techno says.

“You’re biased.”

“I am. You’re working without the government restrictions,” Techno says, “There aren’t as many legal loopholes you need to work around. If you want to make the most change possible, vigilante is the way to go.”

“You’re a hero,” Wilbur deadpans and sits down in the seat next to Techno. 

“I also like money,” Techno says, “I mean… technically I don’t work for the government. I work for Phil, and he works for the government.”

“Legal loophole,” Wilbur sighs, “Yes, yes, you explain it constantly.”

Techno shrugs, (he appears to be doing that a lot) and looks back at the TV.

Tommy does too.

“I hate ‘em,” Wilbur says, and there’s legitimate… disdain in his voice that Tommy decides that Wilbur can never know that Tommy’s a vigilante. “I hate them, they’re unhinged, dangerous and they don’t have any systems in place to keep people safe from them.”

“I like them,” Tommy says and Techno looks at him, he doesn’t look surprised as such. More just curious. Wilbur is glaring though. “No one patrols in Logstechire.”

Wilbur looks slightly guilty for a moment. “I’m pretty sure people are picking up patrols in Logstechire. I am tonight at least, I dunno what other people are doing.”

“I have tonight off,” Techno says and sighs gratefully. 

And Tommy tries not to think too hard about Wilbur being on patrol in Logstechire tonight.

Like… he really tries not to think about it.

Even when he gets home. He tries not to think about it.

He doesn’t eat his food, (his powers are already severely weakened from eating terribly, he doesn’t need this sort of negativity in his life. It’s better to just not eat at all.)

He tries not to think about it.

When he puts his hood up (and pins it, he’s not any sort of rookie), slowly puts the red tinted goggles on his face and the mask over his mouth. He really, really, tries not to think about it.

Logstechire is known for having vigilantes everywhere, he doesn’t want any of his friends to get captured. Purpled, Slimecicle, Aurelian, he really hopes that they’re okay and don’t get targeted.

As he slips his gloves on and wraps the bandage around his baseball bat. (He only uses it when his powers are exceptionally weak)

He really, really tries not to think about Wilbur (Spectre, they feel like two different people.) Patrolling in his home… ready to arrest him, or any of his friends at a moment's notice.

While trying not to think about it, he’s perched on top of a building.

His powers are severely weakened. He can barely lift up a bottle cap. That’s the side-effect of bad eating, he supposes, it doesn’t end well for him.

Tubbo’s voice filters into his ear. “One of our plants is picking up some… interesting things. It’s in Kinoko too.”

“Kinoko?” Tommy repeats.

Tubbo sighs, “I’ll just patch it through.”

Some static erupts in his ear, and then Tommy starts to make out some voices. They’re grainy… at best and unhearable at worst.

“There’s a big fight soon,” someone says, and Tommy struggles to make it out. “They’re bringing the oldies back… I’m excited to see it.”

Tommy feels… a quiet sense of dread in his stomach. Great. Great. There’s some sort of underground fight, one that he won’t be able to quell in time.

“Huh,” a new voice says, it’s slightly higher and has a different accent. “How are they gonna get them back? Both of ‘em.”

That, is not a good sign. 

“No clue,” the first voice says, “No hero is gonna fuckin’ worry about it. Not with those weird ass attacks… the heroes HQ was attacked a couple days ago, ain’t that so weird?”

“Yeah…” the other person says. “That is weird. I hope everyone’s alrigh’.”

“We do not! We don’t support heroes.”

“They have workers there too.”

Tommy sighs, he can’t think of much else to say. Look, these guys don’t appear to be complete assholes.

Then he looks up.

Standing across from him, on the other building is Spectre.

For a glorious moment, he thinks that they’ll just stare at each other.

But then Spectre leaps forwards.

Well… shit.

---

Chapter Text

Yeah… that Spectre.

His outfit was a dead fucking give away. The fucking coat. That he wears like a cape, instead of like anything that’s remotely practical in any way, shape or form. The coat is mostly a dark purple, but with patches on it with fabric that seems to shimmer under the moonlight. Combined with the otherwise pitch-black outfit, the ski goggles which have a blueish tint and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a mask.

Yup. That’s Wilbur. 

The smug face and fucking all.

The button holding his coat together, was a little star. Which… while objectively fashionable, would not help Tommy at all. Surely the coat-cape would get in the way? Around his wrists are two golden bands (they’re quite big), which are surely arm protection.

Tommy staggers backwards slightly, holding his bat out in front of him like that was going to do anything, or save him from anyone.

That was Wilbur.

He can’t fucking hurt Wilbur, he’s slightly emotionally attached to him.

Wilbur lands on the building in front of him, and in the dark, Tommy sees Wilbur smile slightly. “There you are, you sly fucker.”

Tommy just stares, and walks back a little bit more, trying to keep as much distance between himself and Wilbur as possible.

He didn’t want to get hurt.

He didn’t want to hurt anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur says, and does not sound sorry in the slightest. “You’re gonna have to come with me.”

Tommy raises his hands slowly. “No.” Is what he signs, and Wilbur squints at him.

“You can’t just say no.”

He can. 

And he will.

Wilbur sighs and adjusts his coat/cape situation. Tilts his head to one side, and smiles again.

He takes a step forwards, and his boots make a noise on the ground. A greyish, blueish colour. Which again, good fashion choice.

But that doesn’t help him get out of this fucking situation.

Okay. His powers aren’t working.

He has a bat.

He has Tubbo on the line, and knows that Ranboo can extract him in a worse case scenario. He has a panic button for a reason, so he doesn’t need to speak to alert Tubbo and Ranboo that he’s in trouble.

“Tommy,” Tubbo says into his ear. “Are you okay?”

Tommy just hums, being careful not to use his voice. Not while Wilbur is about… twenty metres away, and looks like he’s analysing Tommy’s every move.

“Someone’s there,” Tubbo says, and Tommy has never been more grateful that they know each other this well. “Hum when I say the right person. Dream, The Blade, Sapnap, 404, Outwit, Philza, Spectre-”

Tommy hums.

“Okay, finding useful information right now,” Tubbo’s voice sounds like he’s not facing the mic for a moment. “Ranboo, will you be good for an extraction? Okay. Tommy, hit the panic button and you’ll be out of there.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, and looks at Spectre… Wilbur, whatever, it doesn’t matter because he’s not fucking being arrested today.

Not when things are going semi-well for him.

Gripping onto the baseball bat, he holds it like he’s going to swing… because he might just do that.

“Look, kid,” Wilbur says and steps forwards again, the patches on the coat rippling. “You have an easy option, go easily. Or you stay here and fight, I’m personally hoping you go with the second option.”

Tommy sighs.

Hopefully his ribs make it out of this one alive.

“It’s not that I want to beat you up,” Wilbur says, “But it’s that I want to beat you up. It would be particularly helpful if you told me where I’d find Purpled, Slimecicle and Aurelian.”

Tommy shakes his head.

“Ah well,” Wilbur sighs. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Okay,” Tubbo says into his ear, with almost perfect timing. “He’s sensitive to light and water. Worse case scenario, you run into a fucking pond. Okay? Maybe spit at him, I don’t fucking know.”

Tommy sighs, and gets his baseball ready to hit.

Wilbur steps forwards, and breaks into a run.

Tommy responds by swinging, it phases right through Wilbur.

If Tommy had a fucking gun, then this would be so much easier.

Pain shoots through his jaw, and Tommy stumbles back regaining his footing and holding his baseball bat. He swings again, this one hits, and Wilbur yelps, before phasing through, unphasing and lunging at Tommy.

Tommy ducks a punch, swings around Wilbur and manages to latch onto his back.

He hits the ground, having phased through Wilbur.

Throwing his arms up, he stops the attempted kick and makes a noise as the boot slams against his forearms.

“Give up kid,” Wilbur says, as Tommy tries to grab onto Wilbur’s leg and yank him onto the ground. “You’re not going to win… just try to get a lighter sentence at this point.”

Fumbling for his bat, Tommy slams it against Wilbur’s shin and Wilbur yells.

Taking this moment, Tommy rolls away. Eventually stumbling up onto his feet and holding his bat like it’s a sword (at least how he thinks a sword is held… truthfully he has no clue).

Wilbur sighs, like this is somehow inconveniencing him. Rather than… you know, Tommy who’s just been kicked in the forearms and dropped on the ground.

Tommy holds the bat out, and ignores the way that he's shaking like crazy. The bat moving with his shakes too, but Tommy holds his head up high.

Wilbur’s in front of him in a moment, trying his damn best to get a punch landed on Tommy. But he’s ducking, darting, moving out of the way. For someone who’s supposed to be the fourth best hero, Tommy is doing surprisingly well.

He’s a bit too close to the edge of the building, but overall he’s doing okay.

And then he’s being kicked in the chest.

For a moment, he realises he’s falling… 

Falling off a fucking building. 

Because, of course that’s his fucking luck.

Throwing out an arm, red shoots out and he’s bouncing off the side of the building.

He’s in the air for another fear-filled moment.

Throwing out his hands, a red sort of… something forms and he hits that.

Then he’s on the ground.

And his fucking ribs.

“Oh, fuck,” Tommy says to no one in particlar, and prays it’s quiet enough.

For a moment he just breathes… nothing hurts. Nothing’s pierced at least, small miracles.

His ribs… again. Fucking again?

Tommy manages to get onto his feet, just as Spectre jumps down, feet phasing through the ground ever-so slightly to lessen his fall and then looking at Tommy, a cruel grin on his face.

“Right,” Wilbur says, and his tone is so not like how Tommy knows Wilbur. “So we did it the difficult way, not that I’m complaining. Hopefully your ribs are all busted and you’ll stop fucking fighting me.”

Tommy would not stop fighting.

He was annoying like that.

Tommy slowly grabs his baseball bat and tries to give his best ‘you-wanna-go-bitch’ look and holds his bat up. Ready, and raring to go.

Wilbur sighs, and steps forwards.

Tommy swings the bat, and it hits Wilbur in the guts who makes a noise and swings a fist towards the side of Tommy’s head.

It hits and for a moment Tommy’s vision is slightly blurry, and he forgets where he is.

Until another punch in the nose reminds him of where he is, Tommy scrambles to get some type of protection in front of his face, which ends up being his arms and gets punched several times in the forearms.

He throws a leg out, kicking… something, and Wilbur staggers back.

Tommy goes to move forward.

A foot lands on his chest, and he’s kicked against the wall.

He feels something snap, and a cry tears itself out of his throat. It’s not voluntary… it just happens.

Wilbur’s hands drop down to his sides, and he takes a few steps backwards. He puts his hands up in the air slowly and takes a few more tentative steps back.

Tommy slams the panic button on his side. It beeps once, and he hits it again.

Clutching at his ribs, he takes a deep breath-

Ow. Fuck. That hurts.

Something’s pierced.

Something… his lung.

Pierced… probably with a part of his ribs.

That Wilbur just… 

Tommy looks up at Wilbur and clutches at his ribs, breathing too much hurts, it sends a wave of blistering pain through him, pain that makes his legs feel like noodles and his head spin as he breathes.

Well… fuck.

Somehow he’s panting to breathe, despite the pain.

Is he getting enough oxygen?

His chest seems to be tightening in on itself. He can’t get enough air, this is how he’s going to die, in a dingy alley after being kicked off a roof by his employer. Which, while it is a hilarious story, doesn’t feel quite so funny right now.

“You need to breathe,” Wilbur says, taking a few steps forwards and Tommy flinches back against the wall without meaning to. He pauses where he’s standing, and keeps his hands where Tommy can see them. “You need to breathe, take off your mask, it’ll help you breathe better.”

Tommy wants to scream.

Wilbur takes a few more steps forward… careful steps, like he’s some sort of scared animal. “Okay? You need to breathe kid.”

Tommy slides down against the wall, clutching at his ribs, trying to transfer some of the pain away. 

The pain that’s making his head spin, breathing hurt and making a silent rage brew up inside of Tommy.

Wilbur did this.

Wilbur the person who a couple of days ago he’d saved.

The person who helped him while he was sick… today, did this.

Wilbur takes a few more steps forward.

Tommy grips his baseball bat, and tries to make it look casual.

He’s right in front of Tommy, and reaching out for his mask-

Tommy hooks his foot, and pulls.

Wilbur hits the ground.

With some difficulty, Tommy pulls himself up and points the baseball bat at Wilbur’s throat. Like it’s a sword, instead of a fucking baseball bat.

Tommy finds himself wishing it was a sword.

He hopes this gets the message across.

Raising the baseball bat above his head, he looks at Wilbur. He can’t see his eyes, because of the ski goggles, but he hopes that Wilbur’s scared.

He swings the baseball bat down-

And stops.

Just before he can actually hit Wilbur, he stops.

Tommy takes a few steps back, trying not to breathe too much.

Wilbur seems to get the message, and considering that both of them are breathing heavily. Tommy would say that they’re both about as scared as each other. 

“Stay away,” Tommy signs, and hopes that Wilbur knows sign language. “Okay? Stay away from me.”

Wilbur, nods slowly, and gets to his feet. He puts his hands up in the air, and walks so he’s still facing Tommy as he backs out of the alleyway.

Then he’s gone.

And Tommy can breathe again… not literally, his ribs and lungs hurt, and he’s pretty sure they’re actually going to have to see a doctor for this one. It hurts.

His head spins, and his chest aches.

Where’s Ranboo?

He’s supposed to be here right now?

Gripping onto his chest, he settles down on the ground. Leaning his head against the wall, and trying to take deep breaths, even if it hurts his chest and he wants to scream out in agony every time he does so.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

There’s a zwoop and Ranboo is standing in front of him, his eyes concerned and crouching down so he’s at eye-level with Tommy.

“Are you okay?”

“Ribs,” Tommy manages, wincing and trying to hold his breath as much as possible as pain shoots through his ribs. “I might’ve pierced my lung.”

Ranboo’s eyes shoot wide, “We need to go to a hospital.”

“Don’t have insurance.”

“Don’t care,” Ranboo shot back, and looks a bit helpless in what to do with his hands. He opens them, closes them and mutters something under his breath that Tommy can’t be bothered to try and focus on. “Pierced lungs are very bad Tommy.”

“Might not even be pierced,” Tommy tries, closing his eyes to stop tears from shooting to his eyes. “We can’t afford it.”

“We’ll manage,” Ranboo says.

“It was Wilbur,” Tommy groans, and hisses as his ribs seem to croak and groan under the pressure of breathing. “He’s gonna know, if I rock up at a hospital, with no alibi. With an injury that he just gave to a vigilante.”

“We lie,” Ranboo says, “Hopefully they won’t even know. We say it was a different time, and we took you home because we thought you were alright.”

Tommy nods slowly.

“Where’s your earpiece?” Ranboo asks, and looks at both of Tommy’s ears. 

“Dunno. Must’ve broken.”

“Okay,” Ranboo says, and pulls out his phone. He presses a few buttons and there’s a dialling sound. “Yeah, Tubbo. Hey, it’s me… how’s he looking? Not great, he thinks his lung got pierced and his breathing is all rattly… no, I’m not letting you yell at Tommy right now. Later, perhaps.”

Tommy screws his eyes shut tighter, and hugs his arms around his lower ribs as much as he can. It fucking hurts, it hurts so fucking much. He can’t focus on much else, apart from the stabbing sensation and how he wants to burst out into tears and start bawling.

Wilbur did this.

And Tommy was going to do the same thing back to Wilbur, as some sick form of revenge.

He was going to hurt Wilbur.

He was going to hurt Wilbur.

Tears slip to the corners of his eyes, and fall. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he feels Ranboo’s gaze on him.

Adrenaline crashes… yup, Tommy is definitely having one of those.

He overused his already weak powers.

Yeah… he’s not staying awake much longer.

“He really doesn’t look good Tubbo,” Ranboo says, “Really… Tommy, Tommy. Stay awake. Tommy!”

“Need a nap,” Tommy manages.

The next time he opens his eyes… two things are different. 

One, he’s in bed. Two, there’s golden light shining on his face. Three, Tubbo is in his face.

Tommy screams, but instead of pushing Tubbo away, he wraps his arms around Tubbo’s neck and hugs him. “Tubbo! Hi!”

“Tommy!” Tubbo says and is grinning, but there is something slightly maniacal in his eyes. Cool. “We’re gonna guilt trip Wilbur!”

“Huh?” Tommy asks, “What happened?”

“Partially collapsed lung,” Ranboo explains, he’s sitting on a chair across from the bed. Legs crossed, and looking slightly too big for the chair. It’s impressive that he fits. “It wasn’t that bad apparently. Simple pneumothorax… didn’t need surgery or anything.”

“A small tear,” Tubbo adds. “You won’t even be here that long. One to two weeks!”

“Wait,” Tommy says, a few terrible realisations dawning on him. “We don’t have medical insurance.”

“Ah,” Ranboo sighs, and Tommy looks at him. “So… they wanted contact with your employer… and, they got a hold of Kristin and then Kristin got a hold of Phil and now… we’re here.”

“Oh shit,” Tommy says. “Wait, what does that mean?”

“We’re guilt tripping Wilbur,” Tubbo grins, “Ranboo said I couldn’t hit him with a chair, so… we’re guilt tripping him.”

“Oh.” Tommy says, and blinks a few times. “That’s… vaguely unethical.”

Tubbo shrugs, and much to Tommy’s surprise, Ranboo does too. Tommy looks between the both of them, normally Ranboo doesn’t give into his ideas so easily. It must not have been great.

Tommy sighs, “Two weeks.”

“Or maybe just one,” Ranboo adds, a little unhelpfully. “I mean… it could be longer. At least it’s not fully collapsed, that’s a couple days in bed.”

“Right.” Tommy runs a hand down his face.

“Also.” Ranboo says, and Tommy looks up. “Uh… there’s sorta a video, of Wilbur kicking you off the building.”

Tommy looks at Ranboo, a million thoughts bouncing around in his head. “Huh?”

“It means,” Ranboo says, and he’s grinning, so it’s bad. “One, you have a PR nightmare to deal with and two, you’ve been given a vigilante name. Apparently that’s the best way to get named… get kicked off a building.”

“Oh no,” Tommy says, “What is it?”

Tubbo laughs, “Theseus.”

Silence.

Which stretches for a moment longer than it needs to.

“Fuckin’ Theseus?” Tommy says, his voice oddly calm. “Theseus fucking dies! He gets yeeted off a cliff!”

Tubbo raises his eyebrows.

Ranboo snickers into his hand.

“Oh.” Tommy says, “Okay… that makes sense. But fuckin’ Theseus, that’s such a shit name! People get… The Blade, Philza, Spectre, fuckin’ Outwit? And I get Theseus? It’s not even original, it’s stolen from mythology!”

Ranboo sighs. 

Tubbo is nodding and jumping up and down on his feet. “Yup! Plagiarism! Your name was stolen from some old ass stories.”

Tommy buries his head in his hands.

There’s a knock on the door.

It opens slowly.

Tubbo starts glaring, and Ranboo rolls his eyes… but he sure doesn’t look happy either.

It’s Philza Minecraft, the man himself. And… Ranboo looks pretty shell shocked, considering he’s blinking rapidly.

“Philza?” Ranboo says, “Holy moly. Okay then.”

Tubbo’s mouth is open. “Philza Minecraft? Who is quite old?”

“Uh… hi mate,” Phil gives an awkward wave, and Tommy returns it.

“Tommy!” Tubbo yells, “Philza Minecraft came here for you.”

Tommy sighs. He’s been doing a lot of that recently.

The door swings open, and Techno walks in. Behind him was Wilbur, and Tommy would love to pretend that his heart didn’t jump and one of his fists tightened, ready for a fight.

“-a building?” Techno was saying, “Hey Tommy.”

“Hi.”

“A building?” He repeats, and sighs. 

“Hi, Tommy,” Wilbur says, and sounds dejected… like he’d just beaten up a literal child. Oh wait. He had. “How are you?”

“Great,” Tommy deadpans, “Apart from about to be crippling broke-”

“You have insurance,” Techno says, “It’s being set up right now.”

“Worse case, I pay,” Wilbur grumbles, and sits down on the floor. Oh, he’s upset that he kicked someone off a roof, wait until he hears about how upset about this Tommy is. 

Tommy nods, and tries not to think about how much he’s itching to hit Wilbur with a goddamn baseball bat. If he had the means, or the motivation to… then Wilbur should be fucking scared.

“I get mugged, wake up,” Tommy starts, “And there’s a media nightmare.”

Wilbur winces. “Yup.”

“You kicked a vigilante off a roof.”

“I did.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to spin that?” Tommy asks, and throws his arms up in the air. “Let me guess… he’s being cancelled on Twitter?”

“It’s been trending number one for… six hours,” Techno adds and Wilbur pouts even more. 

Tommy sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.

The irony of this situation isn’t lost on him. 

His job is to make Wilbur (the person who kicked him off a roof) look good and justified in having kicked him off a roof. Which is a very ironic experience that he’s hoping to just ignore until it goes away. (Fingers crossed.)

“Tubbo, Ranboo,” Phil says, and Ranboo still looks like he’s still in shock. “We need to talk about some things… insurance things.”

“Wait, what?” Tommy looks between Phil and his best friends. “This is my insurance. Tell me.”

“It isn’t,” Techno adds and has taken the chair that Ranboo was in. He’s sitting in it like he owns the fucking place which… he’s rich enough to own the place. “It’s about if the insurance covers them.”

“Woah.” Tubbo looks… like he’s having a dream. “Talking to Philza Minecraft about insurance, what has our life come to?”

“No clue,” Ranboo mutters and follows after Phil.

That leaves Techno and Wilbur, and Tommy.

“How are you?” Tommy asks and Wilbur laughs, it’s not a happy laugh, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. 

Techno snorts, “The irony of that. Tommy, you were mugged and got a collapsed lung.”

“Did someone tell you that?”

Techno gestured to the clipboard hanging at the end of the bed. “I can read.”

Wilbur moves slightly, and he’s looking at the clipboard too. “What is that fucking handwriting?”

“Doctors,” Techno adds. “It’s easy enough once you learn how they write.”

“Why the fuck did you learn how doctors write?”

Techno shrugs.

Tommy leans back onto his bed, and looks up at the ceiling.

Now, he has two choices.

One, guilt-trip Wilbur. The pros of that choice were that it would make Tommy feel better about being kicked off a roof by Wilbur. The cons are that he’d feel worse for going to hit Wilbur with a baseball bat.

Two, don’t do that.

Tommy keeps his eyes on the ceiling, as Wilbur’s and Techno’s chatter filters around him. He doesn’t focus in at any point, instead focusing on the ceiling and mulling over his actions.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asks, and his voice is concerned.

He wants to hit Wilbur with a bat.

“Weren’t you supposed to be patrolling?” Tommy’s voice is small. “You said you were going to patrol Logstechire.”

The silence is telling.

Techno whistles.

Tommy’s eyes snap to Techno and he glares at him.

“Tommy-” Wilbur starts.

“Where were you?” Tommy asks, and his voice has found strength. “Because I’ve just seen footage of you kicking someone off a roof, instead of… y’know, actually looking after people who needed your help.”

Wilbur is silent. 

“This is why people trust vigilantes more!” Tommy yells. “They don’t kick people off of buildings and they stop muggings from happening.”

“Tommy-” Wilbur tries again.

“I hope you’re happy,” Tommy crosses his arms and slinks down in his bed. “I’m sure as fuck not.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur says, and looks apologetic, for what that’s worth. “Really… I am, but vigilantes are dangerous.”

“So are muggers!” Tommy yells and runs a hand through his hair, “A vigilante would’ve actually helped me.”

The silence after that… yup, that’s pretty telling.

Even Techno seems at a loss for words.

“I kept hoping that you’d show up,” Tommy says, and it’s not even that much of a lie. He’d been hoping that the Wilbur he knew would show up, rather than… fucking kick him off a building. “You said you’d be patrolling.”

“Theseus did it,” Wilbur blurts out, and everyone stares at him for a long moment.

“Fuckin’ what?” Tommy says, “Did fucking, Theseus, drag you away from the streets and go ‘please kick me off a roof Spectre?’ Or did you chase after your own self interests and now people are suffering because of it?”

Techno pulls a face, “If you can’t hit him with a chair, I can.”

“Thank you,” Tommy glares at Wilbur who wilts under his stare.

Everyone is silent.

Wilbur opens his mouth, closes it and sighs.

Tommy turns over in his bed, it’s nothing apart from an action to try and spite Wilbur. He’s more facing Techno now, Techno… who looks awkward to say the least.

“Look, Tommy, I’m sorry.”

“Oh well,” Tommy is still facing away from Wilbur, “In that case. You can pay for these damn hospital bills.”

“I will.”

“Wait, what?”

“Insurance isn’t set up yet,” Wilbur says, “For you… someone has to pay, that someone will be me.”

“Oh… thanks.”

Everyone stays quiet.

The door creaks open, and Phil’s head pops in.

“Phil!” Wilbur groans, “Tommy yelled at me.”

“I think he’s justified, mate,” Phil says.

“This is why we’re eating the rich,” Tommy mutters, “Bye, bye Wilbur, when the revolution kicks off I’m going to hit you with a bat.”

Wilbur falls silent, and Tommy would be mad about the slip-up if it wasn’t mostly true.

Techno takes a deep breath, like he’s been stewing over some thoughts for a while and is ready to let them spill.

Tommy, for one, is excited to watch Techno yell at Wilbur.

"You're seriously going to let your personal vendetta against vigilantes ruin people's lives?" Techno stares at Wilbur, face almost completely stoic apart from a simmering anger.

Wilbur stays quiet, avoiding eye contact with his brother, he looks angry, but mostly, guilty. They don't speak for a moment.

"You're a hero, right, Wilbur?" Techno asks, waiting for Wilbur to nod shamefully before finishing "Then fucking act like it."

"Techno, that's enough." Phil states, crossed arms and eyebrows furrowed.

"And you!" Techno points at Phil "You're defending him!"

"You know exactly what happened last time we trusted a vigilante!"

“I’m not saying to fucking trust him!” Techno says, “Or befriend him, or get over that unresolved trauma that you obviously need resolved! I’m saying to not kick a literal child off a roof, and leave other people in need because you’re so blinded by your past that you can’t see that not everyone is gonna-” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “You’re both being irrational. Letting your emotions control you, think of it logically, people like vigilantes, they wouldn’t if they weren’t likeable.”

Phil and Wilbur are silent.

Techno stands up from his chair. “I’m sick of your crackdown on vigilantes! It’s difficult to become a hero, you need a personal connection, most people don’t have that. For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t be a hero, but you excuse that I was a vigilante for years because… why?”

“You were a, what?” Tommy says.

“You’re biased, but only when it suits you,” Techno finishes.

Phil sighs. “Techno… you’re not going to arrest Theseus, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re not going to befriend him, are you?”

“No,” Techno has a little less conviction this time.

Overall… today has been a weird day.

Techno huffs, pushes past Wilbur and Phil with a bit of a shove and walks out.

Damn. Okay then.

Techno really just left him with two people who have just been yelled at, in no way could this go wrong.

Ranboo and Tubbo replace Techno who just left, “Is everything alright?” Tubbo asks, “Techno looked mad, what did you do?” Tubbo looks at everyone, and his eyes settle on Wilbur. “What did you do?”

Tommy sighs.

Wilbur splutters for a moment. “We’re gonna…” Wilbur gestures at the door, “Everything’s paid for, okay?” 

Wilbur looks at Phil.

“Phil, can I talk to you? In private." Wilbur asks quietly.

Phil nods and they leave the room. Tubbo and Ranboo sit awkwardly by his bed, clearly all three of them would try to eavesdrop.

And maybe Wilbur didn't want to be that private, seeing as they could hear them, slightly muffled and quiet sure, but they were still audible.

"Phil- I'm- fuck, I don't know how to say this-" 

"Calm down, Wil, just say it when you're ready-" the rest is muffled beyond anyone being able to make it out.

"It's just- Theseus, he just- he sounded so much like Tommy when he screamed." 

The three teenagers freeze, and Tommy didn't know about his roommates, but he feels as if he just got dunked on with a bucket of cold water.

He couldn't know. Could he?

Tubbo looks at Tommy, and he starts moving towards the door, apparently ready to try to take on two heroes at once. Which… while it is a sweet sentiment, Tubbo is gonna get his ass kicked.

Phil says something but it's too muffled for any of them to understand.

"He's a kid. He's probably Tommy's age and I just- I hurt him." Wilbur sounds panicked now "I just can't get it out of my head! Every time I think of it, I see Tommy in Theseus's place and I just-" he sounds choked up, like he was about to cry "Fuck!"

Everyone looks at each other.

Surely, surely Wilbur doesn’t know. It sounds like he doesn’t know… like he’s just nervous.

“I think we’re good,” Ranboo whispers. “Let’s hope we are anyway.”

“They’re too dense,” Tubbo whispers back, as they hear two pairs of footsteps get further and further away. 

Tommy… is straight up not having a good time.

Techno:

Chapter Text

technoprotect, technoprotect, blood, blood, one of us!, E, /rainbowchat

Techno swore, putting his hands on either side of his head and pushing as hard as he could. Until his arms were shaking.

“Get out, get out,” he mutters, shaking his head and pushing as hard as he could. “Get out! We’re not in danger!”

Blood, blood, we want blood.

“Well I want a fucking doughnut! We don’t all get what we want.”

Blood.

“No! I just yelled at someone, I’m not fighting any of them!”

Fight them.

Technocoward, technowuss, THESEUS POG, E

He sits down, on the pavement. It must be a weird sight, him sitting on the side of the footpath. Pushing both hands against his head, like he’s trying to crush his brain… which… isn’t completely off from the truth.

Number two hero. Sitting on the pavement. Wishing to rip his head off.

Yup, that’s realistic.

Blood, blood, blood, blood, for the blood god, kill, kill, murder, stab, stab, kill them all, /rainbowchat, E, blood, blood, blood, give us blood!

Honestly, he yells at someone once and now the annoying voices in the back of his head are screeching, screaming, crying for… something.

This is why he needs to stay apathetic through life.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Techno twists the wrist that the arm belongs to. Before pausing, and looking at who had tried to grab his shoulder.

Phil.

Techno lets go, and glares at Phil. “Where’s Wilbur?”

“In the car,” Phil adds and looks over his shoulder. “Apparently there’s been another attack, Wilbur and I are going to check it out. Just look around, the threat’s been dealt with.”

“Who by?”

“Dream and Outwit,” Phil said and Techno nodded slowly. “You can sit this one out, you know that, right? Last night was supposed to be your day off.”

“Yeah…” Techno ran a hand down his face.

Phil! Dadza, craft a damn belt. Phil! Phil! Phil! Protect. Dadza. 

Techno relaxed slightly, at the voices and their adoration of Phil.

“Thank you,” Techno muttered, “I think… I think I’m gonna walk back to my apartment.”

Phil nods and pat Techno on the shoulder. “Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“Will do.”

“I will craft a belt, if you don’t,” Phil says and Techno snorts. “Okay. Be careful, don’t get mugged.”

Some underlying worry was there, and plenty of unspoken things went under that. 

“The media will be tough on you as well,” Phil says, concern in his eyes. “Okay, tell us if you need anything?”

“ incrI will,” Techno deadpans, and Phil nods and moves his hands away from his shoulder and walks towards the car.

Phil had asked if he was going to befriend Theseus… that wasn’t exactly a lie, he wasn’t going to befriend Theseus, ideally they were going to team up.

Techno was a lot of things, he’d been called a lot of things in his life. It was just the sad truth of his life. He was paranoid, he was violent, he was apathetic and emotionally constipated and needed a bucket load of therapy that he didn’t have the time or energy to attend.

But Techno was one thing, and he was that for sure.

He was someone who did his research.

Theseus wasn’t a new vigilante, he just hadn’t been named up until now. He had a couple of names before this (Red Chaos, Incommodus Redcharge. There seems to be a bit of a pattern here.)

All of those names didn’t stick… but Theseus (for some reason) seemed to stick. Techno had to guess it had something to do with being kicked off a building. Which while is objectively hilarious.

But by researching all of the previous names, he found some interesting details.

Details that he got incredibly easily, details that no one else would be looking at because everyone else he worked with would never try and find this information. It wasn’t that surprising. He worked with people who laughed like kettles.

Theseus (or Red Charge as he was called in one of the early articles) mentioned busting an underground fighting ring, it was in passing mention and Techno had stared at the article for a long moment.

Otherwise… Theseus, (or whatever he went by) seemed like someone who Techno could respect. Busting underground fighting rings, and other situations was an incredibly endearing thing to do.

So. Techno was planning on finding him.

He grabbed his earphones out of his pocket and started walking.

Alright. Two weird attacks now, there was something that needed to be analysed there, he just wasn’t quite sure how to analyse them yet. But still, he looked down at his phone and walked.

Techno sighed, walking the distance to his apartment.

Ah… media.

Crowding his apartment.

Maybe he could get someone to hit him with a chair. In the head, and hurt him terribly badly, so he didn’t have to deal with this.

Someone spots him and everyone turns arounds and fires cameras at him.

Techno… sighs.

He can probably blame it all on Theseus.

“Techno Blade,” some reporter says and Techno sighs in anticipation. “What do you think about the Theseus situation?”

“I don’t know,” Techno says, and gets through some of the people. “I’m yet to find out all the facts.”

“Will this help solidify that many people have no trust in heroes?”

“If it means early retirement… I hope so.”

“Early retirement?” Another reporter says, “Do you resent your job?”

Techno sighs, and pushes past someone, a bit rougher than he should. But he thinks the media will forgive him for this one. This one… at least. 

“I resent the reporters crowding my house, please cancel me on Twitter, I would love nothing more.”

Ah yes, another thing to discuss with his non-existent therapist.

Therapy pog.

His mind supplies and Techno mutters an assortment of swear words before pushing through some people, and finally making it into the foyer of the apartment. It was empty, due to several laws that essentially protected Techno’s house, and any superhero's house from reporters.

It was fun.

Sometimes he regretted living in Logestchire.

Sure, it wasn’t as stuffy as Upper L’Manburg, but it meant it was easy for him to get swamped by reporters. As he was the only hero who lived in Logestchire (to everyone’s knowledge), it meant… Well, let’s just say he was more than willing to hit someone with a chair.

His apartment block wasn’t dingy by any means (Phil hadn’t let him get the one he wanted, with a broken stair and plumbing that didn’t work.) It was one of the better ones.

Swinging open the door, he stumbles in, tripping slightly over his own two feet and throwing his phone across the room onto the couch.

His apartment… yeah, it isn’t dirty or grimey, it wasn’t the best. It had some gross carpet in his bedroom, but that had been mostly covered up by a rug and sure, there might’ve been a weird stain in the bathroom. But that was fine.

It wasn’t too big, two bedrooms (mostly for when Wilbur would pass out here) and had a great bathroom for throwing up in. The couch was… Phil’s old one that he insisted on throwing out, and Techno had stolen it.

Look… he didn’t need a lot of things to make him happy.

Flopping onto the couch he looks up at the roof, the voices were leaving him alone (the joys of having a resting heartbeat and he glances at the TV.

There was a knock on the door.

“It’s open!” Techno yells.

There were the pittering footsteps on the ground, and some slightly more human ones.

“Floof!” Techno exclaims, sitting up as the tiny dog runs at him. He leapt up, and Techno caught Floof in his arms and hugged the tiny dog. “Hello!”

He looks up, and Niki is leaning in the doorway and smiling. “Hello, Techno.”

Niki, one of the sweetest people that Techno has ever met. Someone who happens to be his neighbour, in this semi-dingy apartment and one of the few other people he trusts with Floof. (Apart from his family.)

She also was the only reason Techno ate anything mildly nutritious, and the reason why Techno’s hair wasn’t a spotty mess of pink and looked alright.

At the same time, Techno was the reason for about a good three-quarters of her fighting ability and the reason that Niki had learnt to use a sword.

“Niki,” Techno hugs Floof a bit tighter, “Good to see you. Thanks for taking care of Floof.”

“No problem,” Niki says, walking forwards and sitting on the couch like she owned the place. Which… she was probably in his apartment as much as Floof and Techno were. “He was very polite today.”

“Nope!” Techno puts Floof down, who yaps happily and goes off to do… something. “Floof is an attack dog.”

“He attacks flies,” Niki deadpans, and brushes some hair away from her face. It’s a darker pink than his, and shorter. “I don’t think he’s much of an attack dog.”

“Mhmm,” Techno looks at Floof, who is currently trying to get his entire mouth around a drink bottle, and Floof is… struggling to say the least. “Look at him, he’s deadly. Dangerous, armed to the teeth.”

“Mhmm,” Niki muses, and stifles a laugh. “He’s not a service dog.”

“Nope.” Techno manages as Floof looks up at him and yaps. “An attack dog.”

Niki walks over to Floof, who looks at her, with the judgement that only a tiny, fluffy white dog could manage and pet him. He seemed pretty content with that, and rolled over onto his stomach which Niki scratched.

“He’s simply deadly,” Techno says and Niki laughs, throwing her head back and stops petting Floof to cover her mouth with her hand. “Lethal, one might say.”

Niki laughs, rolls her eyes.

The rest of the afternoon went along easily, with Niki and himself bullying Floof (only a little bit… his legs were just so unapologetically tiny and he deserved a little bit of bullying for it). And that Floof would only eat his food off the floor.

Dogs were weird.

People were weird too though, so Techno could excuse it.

“Hey Techno,” Niki says, cutting him off from what he had to say about mythology. Which was an odd thing for Niki to do, so Techno closes his mouth, and looks at Niki. 

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of vigilantes…”

“They’re cool,” Techno says, petting Floof who was curled up on his lap. “Hopefully they mean I retire sooner.”

Niki smiles, nods and looks at the TV. She nods again, glances at Techno, smiles and looks back at the TV. “That means a lot.”

“I know.”

And they call it an unspoken conversation for a reason.

Niki left. Floof yapped at the door for an hour afterwards.

“Am I not good enough?” He asks the dog.

Floof looks at him, looks at the door and keeps yapping.

“Cool,” he mutters, “Thanks, Floof.”

The rest of the day passed easily, and Techno was in bed at a good reasonable time. He’d brushed his teeth, showered, ignored several texts from Wilbur and Phil and instead watched TV.

His prosthetic is resting on the bedside table, which makes Floof pause at it and bark a few times in curiosity. 

Techno picks Floof up and puts him on the bed.

“It’s my leg,” Techno deadpans and rolls over, as Floof scrambles over his body to get to the other side. “You’ve seen it before.”

Floof barks happily.

Techno rolls his eyes. “Don’t chew this one up, alright? I’m trusting you, this is one I actually need.”

Floof tilts his head at him, his best shot at puppy-dog eyes which don’t work on Techno anymore. After seeing Floof chew up one of his legs… yeah, puppy-dog eyes didn’t work after that.

“No eatin’ my leg,” Techno says, “Wake me up if anyone breaks in. Alright?”

Floof yaps, spins around in a circle and settles down on the bed.

“Okay. Night.”

And Techno closes his eyes.

He's in complete darkness, something holding his hands together tightly and he can hear faint cheering.

Light blinds him for a split second, and he winces, turning his head away slightly before looking up at... familiar yet slightly off arena in front of him. 

The cheering is louder.

It screams in his ears, and hurts his brain.

Pain bursts through his leg and now he's on the floor, he hears screaming and it takes him a moment to realize it's him.

His hands are holding onto something wet and sticky when he looks down the only thing he sees is blood. 

Blood? 

His blood?

His lower leg is completely crushed, he can't feel it, but it hurts. 

It hurts. 

He wants Phil.

He looks back up.

He's strapped to a medical bed, tubes with what he knows are some sort of drug attached to him.

Pins and needles prick his skin and his leg feels a throbbing pain on his leg. 

He screams.

Hopefully someone will hear him, please let someone hear him. 

Where’s Phil?

Where’s Wilbur? 

They said this wouldn’t happen again, they promised him that this wouldn’t happen again-

He screams again. Immediately he gets slapped in the face and suddenly it's silent.

He's completely alone in the medical room, he can feel the drugs burning through his veins , they feel like fire, he can feel them twisting and manipulating his veins, changing his blood composition. 

He can feel it all… they never bothered with painkillers when it suited him.

The cold metal attached to his leg, he feels it, chilling him down to his bone. 

He closes his eyes tightly breathing rapid.

It’ll be okay.

It’ll be okay-

It has to be okay-

A bark wakes him up.

He shoots up, panting, desperately trying to get any air into his lungs. Floof is in front of him, sitting there, politely, and he can’t breathe.

Techno manages a laugh, it’s shaky, and barely a laugh as Floof looks up at him.

“Hospitals, huh?” Techno manages, between desperately trying to breathe, the urge to cry and the panic rising in his chest. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Floof doesn’t say anything, he’s a dog, but he curls up into Techno’s lap, and Techno runs one hand through his fur, while his other hand fumbles for his phone. 

He finds it, after knocking several things to the floor.

He needs to breathe. 

In and out.

He clutches his phone, until his hand’s shaking.

His vision is blurry.

Floof looks up at him.

Techno busies his hands with petting Floof, he can call someone later, right now he needs to calm down.

He needs to calm down the racing in his heart.

Floof yaps at him, it’s gentle, and he’s thankful for that.

He has no clue how long he stays there, petting Floof, as his heart calms down and he starts being able to control his breathing. 

Picking his phone up off the bed, he looks at his contacts.

There are three, three that he actually talks to anyway. Niki, Wilbur and Phil. He has more contacts, but most of them stay untouched, save for the odd birthday wish. Those three are the only people he speaks to outside of work, he never has really liked people much.

His finger hovers over Phil’s contact for a moment.

Then he clicks on Wilbur’s before he can let himself regret it.

It rings a few times.

“Tech?” Wilbur’s sleepy voice comes through the phone, “Why are you up?” Although it’s said considerably more slurred. “You alrigh’?”

“I think so,” is what Techno decides on. It isn’t a lie, but he doesn’t feel like it’s much of the truth either. “Just had a… really bad dream.”

“Oh shit,” Wilbur says, and sounds a lot more awake. “Hospitals… Tech I am so sorry-”

“I thought I’d be okay,” Techno tucks his phone against his shoulder, and sighs slightly. He’s tired. 

“Do you need us to do anything?” There’s the sounds of sheets ruffling on Wilbur’s end. “I can come over, or you can come over here. I don’t mind.”

“Aren’t we fighting?”

“Doesn’t matter, fights get put on hold for things that actually matter,” he says it easily, like it came without thinking and that does something to Techno’s poor emotions. “You’re my brother, even if you say we’re not. Do you need me to stay over?”

Techno’s mind short-circuits.

Between somewhere between that first and second sentence, his brain stopped processing exactly what Wilbur was saying, and just felt… safe for a moment.

“Can you?”

“Of fucking course,” Wilbur says, and he hears some noises which sound a suspicious amount like a grappling hook being taken off the wall. “I’ll be there in… two minutes, unless I die.”

“Cool.”

“See you soon.”

Techno hangs up first, and his hands find Floof’s fur again.

Everything is fine. 

One minutes and fifty two seconds later, there’s a bang against the window. The noise of the window opening, Wilbur’s footsteps stumbling in. Hitting the box that he always hit, several seconds of muffled swearing and then Techno’s door swinging open. 

He had a complete idiot of a brother. He did this every time.

“Hello!” Wilbur says, almost looking like more of a mess than Techno probably did. “Oh. You look awful.”

“Everso insightful, Wilbur,” Techno says, and there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. But not too much, he can’t let Wilbur get too big for his boots. He’s a fucking nerd, that’s what he is. “Thanks.”

Wilbur jumps onto Techno’s bed, over Floof and himself and bounces slightly on the other side.

“Are you sleeping here?”

“Where else would I be sleeping?”

“I dunno,” Techno adds, “The bed I have in the spare room… literally set up for you.”

“Nah,” Wilbur crinkles up his nose. “You have the better bed.”

“I literally don’t! I’m gonna swap ‘em at this rate, your old bed is in that room.”

Wilbur sits up, and looks at Techno. “I threw that out.”

“You thought you threw it out, between you and Phil you get enough new furniture to furnish entire apartment blocks.”

“That’s a joke,” Wilbur says, his voice clearly uncertain. “Right?”

“No. Most of it I donate to charity.”

Wilbur pales, and sinks down so he’s lying on a pillow. “Oh.”

“Eat the rich,” Techno mutters, unenthusiastically and Wilbur snorts at that. 

“You say like you don’t benefit.”

“I get legs,” Techno deadpans, and picks up his prosthetic from the side table, before hitting Wilbur with it a couple times. “Unlike you, I don’t need to mooch off of Phil.”

“He’s a millionaire! He would be a billionaire if he didn’t meet you and you didn’t go on rants about how unethical billionaires are.”

“I stand by that statement.”

Wilbur sighs, and lets himself get hit in the torso with Techno’s leg.

“Billionaires are unethical Wilbur, there is no reason one person needs that much money.”

“I mean yeah.”

Techno puts his leg back down on the bedside table, and pointedly ignores that there were a lot more things on the bedside table when he went to bed then the amount that was currently on the table.

“One day I’ll radicalise you.”

Wilbur sighs, and runs a hand down his face. 

They’re both quiet for a moment, as Wilbur shuffles so that he’s under the blankets. 

Techno huffs and Wilbur laughs.

“If it is like the sleepovers we used to have,” Techno starts and Wilbur laughs at that. “Then I will kick you out.”

“What do you mean? We used to get so much sleep.”

“When?”

“When we were supposed to be at school.”

“When you were supposed to be at school.”

“Ah,” Wilbur waves a hand. “Right, tragic backstory got you out of school.”

Techno raises an eyebrow and looks at his brother, hopefully looking more judgemental than he felt. “Ah yes, because you didn’t take months off of school after your tragic backstory started.”

Wilbur glares.

Techno glares back.

Then they both burst out into laughter.

Apparently that’s funny enough that Wilbur starts kicking his legs and cackling like his life depended on it. Which was both endearing and very loud, and Techno covers his ears as Wilbur scream-laughs.

He missed this.

It felt like they were dumb teenagers again, laughing and stifling to make sure that Phil didn’t eventually ban them to each of their own rooms.

(Techno was pretty sure Phil knew about the impromptu sleepovers.)

Wilbur’s laughter died down.

“Are we gonna talk about the fight?”

“You used unnecessary force.”

“I did.”

“We think Theseus is a kid.”

“We do.”

“You used unnecessary force on a child.”

“Yup,” Wilbur manages, and Techno glances at him. His eyes were screwed shut tight, like he was attempting to avoid tears. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

Techno shakes his head, “No use apologising to me.”

“Yeah…”

“Okay,” Techno says.

“That’s it?” Wilbur asks.

“That’s it.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Wilbur flops so that he’s lying down again, his eyes settled on the roof above them and Techno does the same, eyes settling on a weird stain on the ceiling which Techno knew better than to question.

“It’s fairly easy to get along with you.”

“I’m forgiving.”

“You’re something alright.”

“Go to sleep, Wilbur.”

“Okay then Technoblade.”

“I hate you.”

“Night.”

Techno rolls his eyes, turns over and closes his eyes.

He wakes up to the smell of something being cooked. Which was weird… considering that he wasn’t at Phil’s place, or even Wilbur’s.

For a moment his brain catches up, and Techno blinks at the roof. Then he looks for Floof.

The traitor left him for Wilbur.

A quiet pitter-patter of Floof’s paws confirms that and Techno groans and manages to get himself free from the blankets and reach for his prosthetic leg, which he put on with a little bit of a struggle.

“Damn… leg,” he spits out, eventually managing to get it on and getting up onto his feet. He adjusts for a moment, before walking out into the kitchen.

Wilbur is at his oven… making food.

Techno goes through the seven stages of grief (even though there are five, he made up two new ones). And picks Floof up from the floor, and holds him away from where Wilbur is cooking.

Or attempting to cook, if Techno knows anything about Wilbur.

“Wilbur. Step away from the stove.”

Wilbur glances up, and shows his phone. Which has Phil on it. 

“Hey, Techno!”

“Phil! You’re allowing him to cook?”

“Relax,” Phil says, pulling on that ugly bucket hat that must be… years old at this point, Wilbur had given it to Phil before Techno had known them. Which… wasn’t a short amount of time. “I’m coming over as soon as possible. If we tag team this, your kitchen can survive.”

“Wilbur, let me take over,” Techno begs, more than willing to push Wilbur out of the way. “Wilbur. Move now.”

Wilbur smiles.

“Nope,” Techno rushes forwards, yanking Wilbur off the ground, and throwing Wilbur over the counter and onto the couch.

He looks at the eggs, and takes over, glaring at Wilbur who is glaring back at him.

“You’re banned from my kitchen.”

“Your pans are my old pans!” Wilbur yells, “I threw those out!”

“No, you thought you threw them out,” Techno glances at the cupboard he’s standing in front of. He doesn’t want to break it that most of his things in this house actually belonged to Wilbur, Phil or even Niki at some point.

Look, Niki has good kitchen supplies, and got them for some of Techno’s birthdays. Phil and Wilbur were just wasteful, and Techno didn’t like spending money. All in all, it was a pretty good win for him.

Wilbur opens his mouth, and goes to get up off of the couch.

Techno shakes his head, and Wilbur sits back down and pouts. “You don’t even have enhanced strength, what the fuck?”

“Some of us do strength training.”

“I do agility training,” Wilbur argues, but it’s weak at best. “Sometimes…”

Techno glances up from the fry pan, and gives Wilbur his most judgemental look. “You go to training as often as you get me birthday presents.”

“That was one time!”

“How many times have I forgotten your birthday?’

“None,” he grumbles. “Technically I didn’t forget, I just forgot that I promised to get you something.”

“You didn’t get me anything.”

“You’re someone who hoards my old stuff!”

“Only the useful stuff!”

“Don’t you have a box filled with stuff from when you were a teenager?”

Techno glares, and points the spatula at Wilbur. Wilbur puts his hands in the air in a mock-surrender and sighs. 

“Watch TV, Bake Off should be on by now.”

“You watch the most old person TV of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“And I am happier than you with my life.”

“That’s completely objective-”

“Subjective,” Techno cuts in. “Subjective means opinion. Objective is fact. And you can’t speak English effectively.”

“Fuck off,” Wilbur waves the remote and Floof settles onto the couch and leans against Wilbur’s leg. “You haven’t had a maths class in your life.”

“But I’m still smarter than you,” Techno shoots back easily, and Wilbur pulls a face.

Wilbur opens his mouth, closes his mouth and opens it again, “You don’t even have a tax file number, you just use mine.”

“You also get paid my wage,” Techno replies, and keeps scrambling the eggs. He starts serving three plates, just as there’s a knock on the door. “Get the door.”

“You’re closer.”

“I’m making breakfast.”

“Techno,” Wilbur whines and Techno responds by flipping him off.

Wilbur groans, but gets up from off the couch and stomps over to the door, giving Techno a harsh look.

Phil walks in, waves and sits down at the breakfast bar.

Techno slides over a plate of eggs to Phil.

“Wait,” Techno says.

Phil is looking him dead in the eyes. “Am I a joke to you?”

Techno opens his mouth, closes it again and slowly takes the plate back. “Um…”

“Am I a joke?” Phil repeats, “You’re feeding me eggs! First Tommy and KFC, and now this?”

So Phil’s quickly given some toast, to avoid Techno being stabbed.

And they’re all settled, Floof is darting around trying to eat everything off of people’s plates, which is never a great idea. Which leads to Techno eating with his plate basically held above his head, as Floof yaps at him.

“Go away,” Techno mutters, “Phil, Wil, how was that attack thing you went to?”

Wilbur groans.

Phil sighs, “Barely nothin’ just like the attack at the tower… only one of them had a gun, and they were disarmed by a civilian.”

Techno hums.

“Nowhere near as impressive as Tommy’s disarmament,” Wilbur adds. “Tommy… who is always hurt. Phil, have we looked into his roommates?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, taking another bite out of his toast, “They’re good. I looked at their records, and spoke to them. They both care about him, you can just tell.”

“Right,” Wilbur nods, “So nothing… he sounds like Theseus.”

“No work talk at home,” Techno says.

“You live in an apartment,” Wilbur deadpans.

“You’re a shit head.”

“I’d call it more of a shithole,” Phil adds.

“Oh my God,” Techno groans, “You and your classism, this place is fine. You’re both just rich. Not all of us need a penthouse. I can assure you, people have worse places”

Wilbur shudders, “Tommy’s…” he shakes his head. “What were half of those stains?”

“You didn’t touch them,” Techno’s head shoots up from looking at his eggs. “Right? Wilbur, tell me you didn’t touch any mysterious stains.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he sighs. “Thank the heavens.”

Wilbur huffs, rolls his eyes and goes back to eating the eggs, even as Phil side-eyes him. 

Techno focuses on his eggs.

Tommy and Theseus… it was an interesting situation. One that Techno isn’t going to think too hard about, certainly not while Wilbur and Phil were here, maybe afterwards.

Floof yapped, and Techno turns around.

“You good?”

Floof nods.

“Do you mind?”

He headbutts Phil’s leg.

Techno turns back around, and shovels the last of the egg into his mouth. “Did we get sent our roster?” He grabs his phone and opens the website. “Should this be public information… our rosters.”

“Legally has to be,” Wilbur adds and waves a hand. “I think you’re rostered on for patrol tonight… no clue about much else though.”

Techno sits up a little straighter.

Phil gives Techno a look, sometimes Techno forgets just how well that Phil knows him.

“Do not try to find Theseus,” he says sternly.

Techno just shrugs back. 

He’s pretty sure that they’ve already found him. 

---

Chapter Text

The thing about being in hospital is that it’s incredibly boring. There was so many times that Tommy could scroll through Twitter, and watch Wilbur get absolutely dragged on the internet.

That led to the foundation of a Theseus… Twitter page, he’s slightly ashamed of it. But not enough that he’s going to cry about it or anything. (Plus the username @theseusiguess is hilarious.)

Ranboo and Tubbo are gone a lot.

Two weeks.

One week in, and Tommy is already done. All the checks have lined up, but Wilbur’s paying and Wilbur says ‘you’re not going back to work for two weeks.’ 

So Tommy is bored out of his mind.

He’s tried counting.

He’s tried getting apps on his phone.

He once tried actually doing something.

To no avail.

All he can think about. Is those men in Kinoko… what they were talking about.

An underground fighting ring.

Tommy is familiar with them, he has no choice but to be familiar with them. 

“There’s a big fight soon. They’re bringing the oldies back… I’m excited to see it.”

“Huh? How are they gonna get them back? Both of ‘em.”

It’s repeating in his head as the days go past. 

As Tubbo and Ranboo duck in and out whenever they can, and as SBI (Salty Bitches Inc) leave him alone and he’s completely find with that an not at all hurt by this—

Okay, if he’s a little bit hurt then nobody needs to know that.

So on the eleventh day, when his ribs are no long aching and the doctors say that he’s essentially fine. 

He discharges himself.

Sure, he’s not going to go back to work for another three days. But he has things to do.

Sure, Ranboo’s going to kill him and Tubbo’s going to pretend that he’s also upset (but then buy Tommy some snacks for them to share when Ranboo’s passed out on the couch, and they’re watching…  whatever movie they’re watching.) And is the Salty Bitches Incorporated also going to stab him?

Probably.

But he’s stopped listening to them after one of them kicked him off a roof.

After eleven entire days of being bored, and a few days of being healed. 

He’s outside of the hospital.

Discharged, and free from being terribly bored.

He has his phone tucked against his shoulder, and the familiar ring is echoing through the phone.

“Tommy?”

“Purpled.”

“What the fuck d’ya want?” He asks through the phone. There’s the sound of slightly muffled violence in the background. “Weren’t you jus’ kicked off a building?”

“Eleven days ago,” Tommy sighs, “Get up with the news.”

There’s the sound of something landing on the wall behind Purpled. Purpled muttering something that the phone won’t pick up. 

Tommy taps his foot against the ground, arms crossed, waiting for Purpled to finally be done with whatever the fuck he’s doing. Knowing Purpled… it involves him getting money and beating people up.

Truly, an amazing vigilante.

“Give me a second,” Purpled says.

Tommy waits.

There’s the sound of more muffled violence, and people and things being thrown. Glass breaks, someone yelps out in pain, Purpled grunts and something that sounds suspiciously like a stool breaks in half… probably over someone’s head.

Someone else screams, and more glass breaks, punching, kicking and there’s the noise of bones breaking slightly. (Fractured probably, knowing Purpled.) Another cry, and then it all goes silent.

A few muffled footsteps and the rustle of fabric.

“Yup?” Purpled says, “Don’t worry… police and paramedics have been called. No one’s dead… yet. What do you want?”

“I need info.”

“Oh,” Purpled says, “You really care so much about me. But yeah, what about?”

“Not on the phone.”

“Oh?” Purpled says, “Ew… unconscious person.”

Tommy nods. “Where can I meet you?”

“I’m literally right in the middle of something.”

“Something with sketchy ethics?”

“Nope, assholes messed with kids… messing up genes and powers and stuff.”

“Ah,” Tommy mutters, “Can I join?”

“Yup. Get your costume, I’ll see you, normal meeting spot, in ten minutes.”

“Aye, aye,” Tommy says.

Purpled hangs up first (like always) and Tommy shoves his phone into his pocket. Grabbing the bag that Tubbo and Ranboo had brought for him… just filled with things he needed.

Ranboo and Tubbo are going to kill him, but for some reason he thinks it’s going to be worth it and they’re probably going to sympathise with him.

The walk to the apartment is a short walk, (luckily). He clambers up the slightly broken stairs and opens the door. It’s unlocked, because anything worth keeping goes with them to work or school. Or it’s in the safe.

The safe that only Ranboo is trusted with. (Tommy’s, Philza merch from when he was fourteen is in there.) Which is hilariously wholesome, and one day when Tommy figures out how to get that safe open, he’s going to wear that merch into the office.

Which is hilarious to him.

Tommy gets the costume on.

The gloves, which leave his fingers free, because he’s never enjoyed having his fingers covered. The hoodie, where the lining and the edges of the pockets are red, so are the strings that hang in front of him.

It’s similar on his pants, with small accents of red in an otherwise very black outfit. Including the black turtle neck he wears underneath, and the boots which also had small splashes of red on them.

Around his belt, wasn’t much honestly. His baseball bat that could fold out, a taser (courtesy of Purpled for his birthday), zip ties, duct tape and a universal key (mostly for unlocking any handcuffs put on him… and you never knew who used a universal lock.)

Tommy pulls his mask up, over his nose and mouth, and then pushes his goggles up on his eyes. Pinning his hood is never a difficult thing, it just took a couple of moments. 

Trusty grappling hook in hand, he zips out of the window. Landing on the roof across from his apartment and taking a few steps, stumbling forward and adjusting for a moment.

It felt amazing, his power was dancing in his veins. Pulling, twisting, he felt the most alive he had in years. It screams in the best way possible, and everything just felt right for the first time in a while.

He flicks his wrist and a burst of red energy bursts out in front of him. It’s more powerful than it normally is.

Tommy feels like he could take on all the top heroes at once.

The running across the buildings is liberating, bouncing off the top of them, letting his powers bounce him a little further than he needed to go. Flying through the air and landing on the roofs, panting slightly before flying forwards again.

He lands next to the water tower on top of one of the apartments. Feet slamming against the floor, and taking a moment to catch his breath.

Sure enough, Purpled slid down from the water tower. Landing in front of Tommy with his arms crossed, a slightly bloody staff in his hands.

Purpled… basically just wears purple. It’s a purple hoodie. His mask isn’t on his face, but it’s a black mask (same make and brand as Tommy’s actually), except, the googles are sewed to the mask, which keeps the mask and the goggles in place better.

Tommy’s debating to do the same thing, it’s a smart idea and from what he’s heard from Purpled. It’s way more secure that way.

For the intellect that Purpled has in mask choice, he does not have the same intellect in gloves choice. 

Because his knuckles are split open.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “You should wear gloves… ‘specially if you’re punchin’.”

Purpled huffs, and waves a hand. “Okay then, vigilante. ”

“You’re literally a vigilante too, just on the opposite spectrum.”

With another hand wave, Purpled turns around and looks out on the city. “So… what do you want to know?”

“One of the bugs that Tubbo planted. Overheard a conversation from some Kinoko guys… about a… new fight, and getting a bunch of old guys in.”

Purpled sits up slightly, an odd expression on his face. “I- haven’t heard much about that. Just that'll happen… I haven’t heard anything else either.”

Tommy nods, leaning against the side of the water tower.

“Context clues,” Purpled mutters, and Tommy knows him well enough to know that Purple is judging, looking at everything and analysing patterns, how Tommy’s moving, the quickest way to incapacitate him. Anything and everything. Purpled is… somehow more paranoid than Ranboo.

He still doesn’t know if it’s one of Purpled habits, or if he does it on purpose. 

“Underground fighting rings,” Purpled sighs, “Some people who potentially escaped, or have been off the scene and training for a while. Problem is we won’t find records of any of those people, no matter how much we try. Unless you go through missing kids.”

Tommy nods.

“Even then. Technically I’m a missing kid and,” Purpled gestures between the two of them. “I’m not in a fighting ring, neither are you.”

“Legally I’m not missing. All my records say I’m nineteen.”

“Ah,” Purpled hums, and stands next to Tommy, also leaning slightly against the water tower behind them. “Wanna bust a fighting ring with me?”

“I want nothing more.”

Which is how Tommy ends up, crouched on a roof. Purpled next to him, while he toyed around with some screen that he pulled out of… somewhere, probably just a pocket, but it was still weird.

It just looked like an average apartment block, but Tommy knew that those were the places that they wanted them to be. People who were dumber would say that families lived here, which while true, most people knew about what was going on in the basements.

The rent’s cheap.

That was all people care about.

Tommy knows the feeling.

Purpled glances up, eyes on the building.

“Two ways in. One, civilians, we take off the costumes and stuff it somewhere. Two, all guns blazing,” his voice is slightly deeper and echoey than it would be otherwise. The joys of voice modulators.

“No killing.” Tommy says, grabbing his baseball bat from his side, shaking it so it extended. “Okay?”

“If they bleed out before people get there. I’m not gonna try to stop the bleeding.”

“Okay, no,” Tommy glares at the side of Purpled’s face, he’s pulled up the mask so it was over his eyes and mouth. “I’ll let you break as many bones as you won’t, but we can’t let anyone bleed up.”

“Deal,” he says.

They shake on it, and Purpled sighs.

Purpled passes the screen over to Tommy. “Blueprints of the apartment block say that we have to go in through the main foyer. Someone there will have a key… and a gun, we know how these places work. Knock out the guy with a gun, get to the… labs. If there’s anyone there, we get them out.”

“First priority,” Tommy confirms.

Which is code for ‘Tommy gets them out’ and ‘Purpled beats the shit out of anyone that tries to get in their way.’ He wouldn’t have it any other way either.

Tommy grabs his grappling hook, and Purpled glares slightly.

“Come on man,” Tommy says, “Grab on, just like when we were little.”

“We didn’t know each other until we were fourteen,” Purpled deadpans, and reluctantly grabbed a hold.

They zipped over the short distance. Swinging slightly and slamming into the building.

“Ow.”

“Fuck off.”

They drop to the ground, and Tommy holds his bat.

They pause for a moment, mentally preparing themselves outside of the door.

Purpled kicks open the door, and pulls out… a gun.

Okay. They’re doing it this way then.

Tommy gives Purpled a look. “Don’t shoot anyone,” and Purpled sighs, rolls his eyes and steps forward.

People start screaming.

Purpled rolls his eyes, Tommy can’t help but cross his arms.

“Okay,” Purpled sighs, not even pointing the gun at anyone. Instead he waved it around as he spoke, like one would a drink bottle or any other object that couldn’t kill someone, “I reckon all of you have been robbed before, same concept. On the ground, don’t want your stuff, want the key to-”

Tommy points at the door he knows it’s through.

All places like this are the same. Thick door, which one person has the key to, to unlock the entire thing.

Purpled sighs again… he sounds more tired than anything.

“Someone hand over that key…” Purpled says, eyes darting around the foyer. Where some people are silently crying. He’s obviously looking for guilt, or some body language.

Tommy starts scanning the room.

Purpled is doing the same thing.

Tommy nudges Purpled and he glances at the same person.

Ah yes, that makes sense. The timid type, the one that just wants to be liked by others above all else. Purpled nodded, and walked up to the guy, placing the gun against his temple and holding it steady.

Tommy glances at Purpled.

Okay. If Purpled shoots anyone, Tommy is going to have some words.

“Alright, buddy,” Purpled says, with amusement in his voice and Tommy feels just a little bit unsettled by the whole thing. “You’re going to give us the key, alright? We know that there are enhanced individuals being held in the basements and we know that you have either a keycard or a key to get us down there.”

The man shakes slightly, and Purpled groans.

“We get it, you’re terrified. Give us the key.”

With a shaking hand, he reaches into his pocket and hands a keycard to Tommy. Tommy holds it in his palm for a moment, inspecting it, before nodding slightly and looking at Purpled.

Purpled snatches it off of Tommy and examines it for a moment.

Humming he moves the gun away and nods.

“Is that Theseus?” Someone asks and Tommy winces.

Purpled laughs, “Your vigilante name is Theseus? Wait, wait, what?”

Tommy glares. He can’t talk as Theseus, it’s kinda half of his branding… so instead he glares through his goggles and hopes that Purpled knows that Tommy resents him right now.

“You have got to tell me this story,” Purpled laughs and then looks at everyone still on the ground shaking. “Uh… stay here, please? Don’t call the heroes, shit, they’re going to call the heroes. Please don’t?”

Effective persuasive techniques. Purpled, the master of words.

Tommy rolls his eyes, and gestures at the door. They kind of have a job to do.

Purpled sighs, shoves at Tommy and walks towards the door.

It doesn’t unlock.

“How do you unlock this?” Purpled asks, “Like where’s the keycard reader. Am I stupid?”

Tommy nods.

Purpled flips him off, “This is not going well.”

It normally doesn’t go great anyway, at least this time they haven’t been shot at.

Yet.

“The handle,” the man from earlier rasps out, “Tap it on the handle.”

Purpled taps it on the handle. The door beeps and swings open.

Tommy steps in first, bat at the ready.

“Please don’t call the heroes!” Purpled yells over his shoulder. “Or do actually, I wanna see if I can take them.”

The door closes behind them, and the cramped stairwell becomes pitch black straight away. Purpled sighs and brings out a screen, the artificial blue light the only thing leading the way as they sneak down the stairs.

Sneak is a strong word, considering how many times Tommy almost falls over.

The staircase levels out into a long hallway, and Tommy’s grip on his bat tightens as they take a couple of steps.

At the end of the hallway, there’s dim red light.

Purpled’s breath catches in his throat, Tommy can hear it. Tommy feels much the same way, like there’s rocks in the pit of his stomach and a silent sort of terror brewing in there.

No matter how many of these places they raid, Tommy will always feel slightly sickened by it. 

Tommy steels himself, ignoring how his hands are shaking and steps out of the hallway into the main room.

There are cages. 

Cages basked in red light. The room is just… cages stacked up with a door ahead of them, where a different colour of light is coming from under the door. A bright white light. Tommy glances at the cages again.

Fucking… cages?

He wants to throw up.

Purpled is behind him, their backs are together.

Enough of raiding these places means they know that people come out of the dark and tackle them. Tommy watches, waiting for any movement in the darkness.

This area is cages. All of which are empty.

It’s too quiet down here.

Purpled seems to realise it at the same time, “This isn’t… normal.”

“No,” Tommy keeps his voice quiet, as he starts walking around.

One of the walls has claw marks on it. Tommy tries not to think about the bloodstain against some of the walls and the other dark stains on the floor, ones that look a lot like splatters of blood.

Overall, he feels sick.

Purpled hums, almost robotically. “This isn’t right,” Purpled says, “Something’s up here.”

“Maybe it’s one of the main ones,” Tommy says slowly, poking his bat at the door and nothing happens. 

“Not enough security,” Purpled says and Tommy can’t help but agree. “Nowhere near enough. This was… too easy.”

Tommy takes a step back from the door.

“What are the chances that the guy with the keycard is in the foyer?” Purpled’s thinking now, and that’s dangerous, because it means Tommy starts thinking and nothing good has ever come from Tommy’s thoughts.

“We didn’t lock the door behind us,” Tommy says.

“Shit!” Purpled yells.

They hear footsteps and in an instant the two of them are pushing the cages up against the door. 

Purpled’s bending one of the cages, one of the looser bits of wire and wrapping it around the door handle. As Tommy rubs his hands together, a small red spark darts off of his hands and onto the floor.

Right, in the worst case scenario, he essentially breaks the door knob.

There’s someone pounding on the door, and Purpled scrambles back, tripping over.

Tommy drags him up and he fumbles for the keycard, tapping it against the door handle.

That door opens, and they essentially fall through.

Closing the door behind them, Purpled taps the keycard again and a light on the door flashes red for a moment.

They both stand against the door for a moment, trying to catch their breath. 

“Oh shit,” Tommy mutters.

“Yeah,” Purpled manages, “Yeah… that’s accurate.”

Tommy sighs, standing up slightly now.

This room is… filled with papers, desks and whatever else.

There are three desks, all of which are empty. No one’s at them, computers are on the ground, shattered across the floor like they were hit with a hammer and screens are smashed.

He walks forwards towards one of the desks. 

Purpled hangs behind.

The desk is covered in papers, all of which Tommy decides that he’s pocketing and shoves them in the huge pocket that spans the inside of his hoodie (it’s a sneaky pocket, what can he say, it’s good for food, snacks and holding secret documents.)

Tommy sits down on the chair, before putting his feet up on the desk.

“Tommy.” Purpled deadpans, “Don’t do that.”

Tommy flips him off, and settles, leaning back in his chair slightly. “Look for computers.”

Purpled gestures at the computer parts smashed on the ground.

“Nope,” Tommy says, “We need a harddrive that’s intact.”

“Why?”

“Information,” Tommy shuffles through some papers. They’re tax forms. And they’re empty. The assholes didn’t even pay anything in taxes. “Paper is great… but not many people use them. We need something.”

Purpled again, gestures at the computer parts on the ground. “It appears these are the computers.”

“There’s a laptop,” Tommy adds, and Purpled pulls a face under his mask (Tommy can sense it.) “You can look, I’m reading.”

With a sigh, Purpled goes over to the other desks and starts looking in drawers.

Tommy sighs at the paper on the desk, there’s quite a lot and he’s not sure what’s going to be relevant and what isn’t going to be relevant. Half of him wants to get a backpack and start cramming stuff in there, and the other half of him says a backpack will be an easy target.

“Do you reckon they called the heroes?” Purpled asks, head halfway in a draw.

Tommy puts down a printed out email.

“Yeah,” Tommy says slowly, eyes settled on the piece of paper in his hands.

It reads… Ranboo .

Tommy knew, he knew about all of this. He knew about Tubbo and Ranboo, he knew about the shithole they’d been through. He knew all of this, he’d heard the stories, and the nightmares and the panic attacks.

His hands shook, and he slowly put the paper down, not willing himself to read anymore than what he had already read. It was… a privacy invasion.

He didn’t need in depth records from the people that hurt Ranboo to tell him anything. 

Then he folded the paper, and shoved it into the pocket on his jacket too.

“Found it!” Purpled exclaims, holding up a laptop. “It was… under the water dispenser.”

Tommy snorts, trying to get rid of the shaking that he was feeling and that his mind was screaming at him about this. This one, this one was the place where Ranboo had been and Tubbo had worked.

This was the place.

Fuck, they had records of Ranboo here, and Tubbo was probably somewhere in the piles of paper. Records, that if got out… would potentially be disastrous for anyone who had a record here. 

Leaking powers never went well… especially the powers of ex-ring fighters. It had happened once, someone’s record from when they were in the ring were leaked and it had gone… just horribly wrong, very quickly.

Tommy took a deep breath. “We need to burn these records.”

“Huh?”

“The heroes have been called, you and I both know it. We can’t let them get their hands on these records, they’ll either try to recruit people, put them in jail or they could get leaked and their powers could get exploited.”

Purpled pauses before nodding a few times. “Someone you know in those?”

“Yup,” Tommy forces out, sounding almost as choked up as he felt. “We’re setting these on fire, and taking the laptop.”

Purpled nods, and walks over, handing the laptop to Tommy. 

“I’ll light the fire,” Purpled says, and it’s said easily, as if that didn’t mean the world to Tommy. “Don’t get sappy on me, collect the papers.”

So they did, they collected the papers and watched them go up in flames. (A fire lit by a lighter that Purpled had on him for some reason) and they both watched until the last pieces of paper were bits of ash on the ground.

After a moment, Purpled straightens up and turns to one of the doors.

He takes a deep breath, and kicks at the door.

The door flies open and Tommy has his bat at the ready, and Purpled has his gun at the ready.

They both stare.

In red paint, on the wall, there’s a message.

     Too late. Nice try.

With a spade painted under it… like a card spade.

Tommy stares at the message for a long moment.

Something wells up inside his gut, something ugly and cold. It freezes the blood in his veins and at the same time makes him boil all over and he closes his hands, he opens them and closes them again.

Purpled says something, but Tommy doesn’t hear it.

Tommy glares, he feels his power rising up, before it has any outbursts.

He should get control.

He doesn’t want to.

Armed with better sleep and food than he’s had in weeks… and his powers being stronger than usual.

His powers explode.

Purpled tackles him to the ground, and Tommy just registers to hold the laptop to his chest so it doesn’t break.

Something crumbles around them, and Tommy doesn’t have many other thoughts than to throw a shield up and that something shatters and someone screams. That might be him though.

The world settles around them, and Tommy looks up, the shield of red energy falling apart around the two of them.

Both sat up.

There was a huge chunk blown out of the wall, revealing the sky.

“Shit,” Tommy mutters, “I-”

“What the fuck?” Purpled screeches. “Tommy!”

“Don’t say that so loudly!” Tommy screeches back.

“You fucking blew up half a building!”

“It’s one wall!” Tommy defends, although it’s not the best defense. “Fuck it. We’re going.”

Purpled nods, and the pair of them look at the hole blown in the roof of the basement. It leads outside, hence the sunlight beaming down on them.

A figure stood against the sky and Tommy looked up, holding his arm up to try and shield his goggled eyes from the sun.

Ah. Techno.

The Blade, peering down into a half destroyed basement.

“Well,” Techno says, in the voice that he used all the time. It wasn’t a fake voice like Wilbur, it was more like how Purpled’s voice just stayed the exact same. “Do I get an explanation?”

“Uh.” Purpled says, “Hey.”

“Hello,” Techno jumps down, landing in front of the two of them. He’s in his superhero gear, with the pig-skull mask, pink hair out. A red cape (which didn’t look practical) a white poet's shirt, boots and black pants. “Purpled… Theseus.”

“You know us?” Purpled says, “Uh… hello.”

“Hello,” Techno says, “We just established that.”

“Don’t arrest us,” Purpled stumbles out, hand floating over the gun that Tommy knew was strapped to his side. “I’ll have to fight you, and I dunno how well that would go.”

Techno sighs, “Does Theseus talk?”

“Uh…” Purpled looks at Tommy, then at Techno. “He’s more of the quiet type.”

Tommy wants to laugh at the irony.

“I know sign,” Tommy signs out, and Techno straightens up slightly at that. Wait, Techno knows sign language? “I can hear,” he signs out, “Just don’t talk much.”

“That’s alright.” Techno signs back.

Tommy feels like passing out. 

Okay then. Techno knows sign.

It’s not that he doesn’t know anyone else who knows sign language. Tubbo and Ranboo were the ones who taught him, but no one that he’s worked with as Theseus (well he wasn’t Theseus at the time) knew sign language. 

He trusts Purpled with his identity, some tough spots lead to that. Some tough spots before he knew Tubbo and Ranboo, so of course he trusts Purpled with his identity. Purpled trusts him with his.

But… Aurelian, Slimecicle, neither of them know sign language. Which made things difficult for the few times that he actually did team up with either it had been him playing charades.

This made him emotional… for not much of a good reason. Someone who was about to arrest him knew sign language. Great.

First Wilbur, now Techno. In the span of a eleven days, not even a fortnight.

“Oh,” Techno looks up. “I’m not gonna arrest either of you two. We have Phil…” he pauses, apparently slipping into how he normally speaks, then freezing, “Philza, because they thought it was a hostage situation.”

“Oh shit,” Purpled says, eyes wide. “I mean… it kinda was, but that was my fault.”

Tommy rolls his eyes under his mask, and flips off Purpled.

“Just… get outta here,” Techno adjusts his mask slightly and glances over his shoulder. “Theseus… right?”

Tommy nods, trying to not feel too faint.

He gestures at the laptop. “Do you have a guy who can get into that?”

Tommy nods, and holds the laptop to his chest

“That’s alright,” Techno puts his hands up and takes a step back. “I’d just like to know what’s in there, when you figure it out.”

Wait, what?

“Talk later?” Techno signs and Tommy nods because he doesn’t know what else to do. “Okay, go now,” there’s the noise of something hitting the ground and feathers rustling. “Seriously, I can’t save you both from Phil.”

Tommy nods, and grabs a hold of Purpled, powers pulsing through his veins as he pushes off the ground, propelling himself into the air and Purpled screams as they go soaring.

They hit the ground and Purpled grunts.

There’s the sound of wings and muffled talking.

The pair of them slide behind a dumpster, before sitting against the ground and waiting for everything to calm down. 

It’s a while, and neither of them dare to speak.

Cars drive off, wings rustle and they’re finally good.

Standing up, Tommy shuffles out from behind the dumpster.

And promptly jumps as seeing Techno and slams his head on the side of the dumpster.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Techno has his hands in the air again, “Theseus.”

Purpled shuffles and sighs, before jumping on top of the dumpster and crouching. “You’re kinda sus, Blade .”

Techno shrugs and looks at Tommy, who is still holding the laptop to his chest. “Just… stay safe, don’t get caught, y’know. I know you have people who care about you, don’t get caught. You either Purpled.”

“Why do you know who we are?” Purpled asks, moving so he’s sitting on top of the dumpster and his legs dangle off the side of the bin. “What do you want?”

“Everyone seems to forget I was a vigilante before I was a hero, even my own family,” he muses and Tommy (again feels like passing out, what is happening in his life?). Techno laughs again and it sounds slightly weird. “Look, don’t die, you don’t have many heroes on your side but you have enough that if you’re smart, you’re gonna be fine.”

Tommy nods.

Techno goes to walk off, he pauses and looks over his shoulder. “See you Purpled, see ya later Theseus. If you ever wanna raid another place like this, just let me know.”

Purpled sighs, “Yeah, play that mysterious helpful act, you prick!” And flips him off.

Techno doesn’t even turn around, and flips him off right back.

Tommy… just sighs. Today has been a long day.

He starts off, deciding now is the time to get home.

When he got home, exhausted and going to need a nap. Ranboo and Tubbo yell at him for leaving the hospital.

Tommy responds by taking a deep breath, and putting both the laptop and the file that mentioned Ranboo on it. He slides them across the table, looking down at his hands as he does so.

Ranboo’s eyes widen and he slaps one hand over his mouth. With his other hand, he reaches out towards the piece of paper, which he picks up.

Tubbo’s hands dart to the laptop, which he picks up and held it in his hands. Ranboo takes a deep breath, and throws the paper back on the ground and shakes his head. Tommy sighs, looking down at the floor.

“Purpled and I went to go and try get some people out. I think they got everyone out before we got there. I found these… and burnt the rest of the files,” Tommy sighs, and looks up at Ranboo. “Are you okay, Ranboo?”

Ranboo shakes his head, and Tommy just pulls a soft face, before smiling at Ranboo.

“C’mon ‘ere big man,” Tommy says, his voice is all soft, he doesn’t let it be that way often.

And he flings his arms around Ranboo, who buries his face into his shoulder. He doesn’t cry, Ranboo doesn’t cry much, he has a limited amount of scars to prove it. But he buries his face into Tommy’s shoulder, and sobs.

The sort of sobs that didn’t need tears, ones that Ranboo had mastered.

“It’s okay,” Tommy whispers, heart breaking at his friend. “It’s okay Ranboo.”

Tubbo joins the hug, because of course he does, because Tubbo is chaotic and loud and just like Tommy. But also like Tommy, he cares for his friends. They hug Ranboo, and if Tubbo also starts crying too, Tommy doesn’t say anything, apart from shuffle slightly so that he’s hugging his other best friend as well.

---

Chapter Text

It’s not that Tommy didn’t absolutely love his friends. He did.

But he had to go to work.

And Ranboo was clinging to him.

Poor sod had been a bit useless for the past three days, rightfully so, he’d gotten some time off work and school, Tommy, (who also had time off work, and legally had graduated) had stayed with him.

Ranboo the last couple of days had been a mess. Fair enough. He’d been having some of the worst nightmares that Tommy had ever seen him have, Tubbo had been the same way as well.

Somehow Tommy was the put together one.

Which led back to Ranboo clinging to him.

Ranboo is asleep, an arm thrown around Tommy’s waist and snoring softly. 

Tommy has two options. One, call Wilbur or Techno and tell him he’s going to be late because his roommate is currently having a bit of a relapse in trauma recovery and he needs to be here. Two, take Ranboo with him.

Nope.

Tommy reaches for his phone.

The first contact is Techno, he fumbles for a bit, before managing to click on the contact. It rings a few times, and Tommy holds it up to his ear.

“Hullo.”

“Hey Techno… uh, can’t make it in today, or I’ll be late. I’m really, really sorry, I know I’ve been off for a while already but-”

“That’s alright,” Techno yawns, “I’ll tell Phil and Wil. Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” Tommy looks at Ranboo, who still has his arm around Tommy and is snoring softly. “One of my roommates… haven’t been having a great time.”

“Oh, sick?”

“Not really,” Tommy says.

Ranboo makes a small noise, and Tommy runs his fingers through his hair, hoping that’ll relax the hybrid, and considering that he doesn’t make the same strangled noise after, he’d say it helped.

“Just… y’know, life.”

“I do,” Techno sighs, “Well, take care of your roommate.”

“Will do.”

“You could potentially do your work from home,” Techno says, although he sounds a bit different. “Wilbur, go away… yes I can talk on the phone…” Wilbur’s voice says something that Tommy can’t quite make out. “No, I haven’t made a PR disaster. I will though.”

“Please don’t,” Tommy says weakly, “I’m still dealing with Wilbur kicking a vigilante off a roof, do you know how hard this is to spin?”

Techno laughs, “Good luck. Take care of your roommate.” And then Techno hangs up.

Okay then.

Tommy leans back slightly, and decides that he’s going to try to wake Ranboo up now. It’s slightly too late for his liking, and if both of them don’t want to ruin their sleep schedules, they’ll need to start doing stuff now.

“Ranboo,” Tommy whispers, and shakes him slightly.

Ranboo screeches, and a hand flies up. 

Tommy catches it, and for a moment they just look at each other.

“I am so sorry,” Ranboo starts, his eyes wide and mouth open ready to start spewing apologies.

“It’s okay,” Tommy says, and lets go of Ranboo’s wrist.

“You have work.”

“Took today off,” Tommy got up off the couch, and started raiding the pantry. Noodles. A lot and a lot of noodles, with Tommy’s first pay cheque (even though he’d been in the hospital for most of it) they bought… just a lot of noodles.

They were yet to get any real vegetables.

Ranboo sighs, and buries his head in his hands.

“You alright, boob boy?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m…” Ranboo ran a hand down his face, looking up at Tommy. “Not great, if I’m being completely honest.”

“You need a therapist.”

“I do.”

“We all need a therapist.”

“We do.”

“Do you reckon it’s in my hospital cover?” Tommy asks, “Maybe… I’ll ask Phil next time I see him.”

“Cool,” Ranboo mutters, and pulls at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Do you know I used to have a tail?”

Tommy does. He nods.

Ranboo takes a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes looking further away than usual. “I was in the ring…” he wipes at his eyes, and Tommy hopes there’s no scarring. “And… first fight, I lost. So they just… lobbed it off I guess.”

“Ranboo.” His voice is soft. 

“It was so long ago,” Ranboo says, “I was like… eleven, why am I still scared?”

“You’re allowed to be scared,” Tommy says, taking a few steps into the kitchen. “I’m still scared of a lot of things. Things that don’t make sense, Tubbo is too, sometimes he can’t see spare parts without freaking out. The smell of some cleaning products still make me uneasy. You’re allowed to be scared.”

The silence settles around them, it wasn’t comfortable or uncomfortable it was just silence.

So that was how Tommy spent his day, watching movies, having naps, making noodles and being glad that he had some strength now and that they had enough money to actually buy some alright food.

“Are you going on patrol?” Ranboo asks, just after watching an entire season of a show. “Tonight?”

Tommy thinks about it, for a split second before shaking his head. He’s not any sort of idiot, he needs to be laying low right now. Now he’s on the map for Philza fucking Minecraft, and The Blade… which brings a few more questions.

The day was an easy one, and Ranboo and Tommy did not accomplish much.

Tubbo got home earlier than usual, muttering and he slams all of his school books on the table. “Fuck.” He mutters and then kicks over a chair. “I got so much homework to do! I’ve been putting it all off.”

Ranboo and Tommy exchange a look. 

Tubbo frowns and sits down on the floor, arms crossed and mumbling. 

Then he sits up, “Wait! I’m procrastinating.”

“Huh?” Tommy says, like a true intellect.

“I am going to procrastinate,” Tubbo announces, “I’ll encrypt those files I guess… if I have to.”

Tommy laughs, and Ranboo smiles slightly at that too, although it seems a little bit forced. Not a lot, just forced enough that Tommy picks up on it.

“Only you,” Tommy announces, “Would procrastinate homework by unencrypting illegal documents from a laptop that I stole.”

Tubbo nods tiredly, before opening said laptop and cracking his knuckles in a way that made Tommy cringe. “Okay, Ranboo, make food. Tommy… I dunno what you can do, start Twitter beef with yourself.”

Tommy pulls a face.

“You have a Theseus account,” Tubbo continues, slamming his hands on the keyboard at what appears to be a failed attempt. “You uploaded that photo of you peace signing on top of that building, that proves it’s you. Surely you have a social media account through the agency.”

“I do.”

Something wild dances in Tubbo’s eyes. “Well,” he says, “Start Twitter beef with yourself… that’s funny.”

Tommy grins, and hunches over his phone. 

He is going to start so much Twitter beef with himself.

@arandomintern : yo @theseusiguess please fall off a cliff again, you’re making a fucking nightmare for me.

So he cackles slightly, and puts his phone down.

He’ll reply to himself later.

Ranboo found his way to the kitchen, stumbling slightly and clomping around like the disaster he was. Tommy found himself on the couch watching TV.

A peaceful, average day.

Tommy went to sleep, and prayed that Tubbo or Ranboo wouldn’t have a nightmare, because he’s tired. It’s a selfish thing to wish for, he knows that, but he’s tired, and due to the nightmares the other two are having, Tubbo has banned him to sleep out in the lounge room.

His last thoughts before drifting off to sleep are wishing that Tubbo and Ranboo won’t wake up screaming and thrashing, and that they can get the peaceful sleep that they deserve.

Then he wakes up.

And he’s the one screaming and thrashing.

Jerking himself awake there’s a small flash of red and something to his left falls over and smashes onto the ground.

For a moment, Tommy stays there, breathing in and out.

He doesn’t need to remember what the dream is.

It’s always the same thing.

Even if he can’t remember the details, it always ends in the same thing, him screaming and a flash of red that blinds everything. Then a deep red, and his footsteps, small and childlike running down the streets.

The dim light from the streetlamps comes into the room through a gap in the window and Tommy is still heaving for breath.

There’s no noise coming from the bedroom, no one shuffling around, so Tommy sighs and leans back against the side of the couch. He covers his face and if he cries, no ones there to see it.

Shockingly enough, Tommy is exhausted.

He stumbles his way to work.

Public transport is always a nightmare. Creepy people pressing against others in a way that they definitely don’t need to do, people dropping coffee all over others, conversations that would never happen again, those sort of meaningful, yet meaningless conversations only capable of happening on a metro.

He’s half-asleep, and listening to his music.

It’s been a while since he actually showed up at work.

Still he walks into the tower, and flashes his card at Kristin. Kristin smiles with an odd amount of fondness for someone who barely knows him, and Tommy gives a bright smile back.

Floor 69, the SBI floor, with offices, a communal area and a training room (Tommy had only just been told about that), and apparently a bunch of bedrooms to pass out in, which is objectively hilarious.

Again… SBI being on floor 69, hilarious, comedy gold, an original joke which has never been done before.

The second he’s out of the elevator, Wilbur has grabbed him and is cowering behind him. 

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, listen to me, listen to me. Philza Minecraft is about to throw me out a window, you gotta save me.” Wilbur grips Tommy a bit harder.

“Where are you, you shit?” He hears Phil yell, and Tommy, ever the social media manager, gets out his phone and starts recording.

Wilbur makes a noise. “I have a hostage!” Wilbur yells back, “And I’m not afraid to utilise that to my advantage.”

Tommy just points his camera at the doorway.

Phil steps into the doorway, like a glorious beacon of light, and stands there like the angel he is. For a while his camera doesn’t adjust, making an amazing image of Phil standing there like some sort of deity.

Then the light levels adjust, and Phil looks furious.

Wilbur squeals like a child behind Tommy. “Phil, Phil please, Dad, we can talk this out, healthy communication and all, y’know how it is, what the therapist says about healthy communication!”

Tommy is shaking with laughter.

Phil is glaring.

“Phil!” Wilbur exclaims again, and grabs Tommy a bit more. “I have a hostage! I will cause grievous bodily harm to said hostage, if you don’t back away and we sort this out.”

“Try it,” Phil muses.

First of all, technically Wilbur has done grievous bodily harm to Tommy. (Kicking him off a building and all, and them slamming him into a wall and breaking several of his ribs…)

Second of all, Tommy will never do anything to inconvenience Philza Minecraft (including getting stabbed slightly.) 

“No can do Wilbur,” Tommy says and makes a noise, “I will never do anything to inconvenience Philza Minecraft, the only man ever. No matter how small that option can be… Philza Minecraft, do what you must.”

Phil cackles, throwing his head back slightly and shaking his head. “Well then Tommy… I am sorry for what I’m about to do.”

Wilbur screams, and drags Tommy back slightly.

With a battle cry, one that Tommy does not deserve to hear. 

Phil leaps forwards and at Tommy, going straight through Tommy and knocking both him and Wilbur over. Phil manages to flap his wings slightly so that he’s next to Wilbur, rather than Tommy.

Tommy manages to roll to the side, kicking Wilbur in the side for good measure, and he’s up on his feet, recording the scene.

The scene was as follows, Phil with a hat, an ugly striped thing which is white and green and hitting Wilbur with it. Wilbur is laughing, but trying to spit out any words, which doesn’t quite work.

He’s wheezing and Phil is grinning.

There’s a sigh behind him, and Tommy turns his head, but not the camera away from this hilarious scene. 

Techno has his arms crossed, and is sighing softly, shaking his head. However, there’s something fond and soft in his eyes that Tommy doesn’t miss.

“Children. The both of them. How are we the youngest?”

“I think that’s called being family,” Tommy muses, as Wilbur cackles again. 

Techno shrugs, “How are you?”

“Good.”

“How’s the roommate?”

Wilbur screeches and Phil picks him up like a ragdoll.

“Better.”

“Good to hear,” Techno says. “Oi!” Techno yells, “Stop it.”

“Uh oh,” Wilbur stage-whispers, “Fun police is here.”

Phil’s face contorts into one of disapproval and he puts Wilbur back on his feet. “Techno, have you been sleeping?”

Techno pulls a face, “Technoblade never sleeps.”

“Technoblade is about to get knocked the fuck out,” Phil says, and his eyes are concerned as he looks at Techno. “Get some sleep, reading up on hybrids all night isn’t healthy for you.”

Again, he shrugs. “Did you know, some spider hybrids can manipulate density? Not a lot, it’s a weird off-shoot effect. Hybrids are also just names for people who are given physical and visible side-effects from their powers.” He yawns, “The legal definition means that you’re a hybrid.”

Phil laughs, it’s filled with warmth. “Go to sleep Techno, go home. You have the next few days off, get some sleep.”

“You’re not my dad,” Techno yawns.

“But you’re my kid,” Phil responds.

Tommy feels like he’s missing something.

He feels like he’s missing a lot actually.

Tommy makes the wise move to stop recording (partly so that Wilbur stops death-glaring him. He gets it, no soft moments online, he was too busy being shocked to do much.)

The family SBI tree is looking very confused in his head right now.

Everyone knows that Wilbur is Phil’s kid (adopted and all), it’s one of those things out to the public. What no one can figure out is how Techno is related to it all. 

Apparently Techno is Phil’s “kid” which can mean a multitude of things that he can’t be bothered to try and unpack right now.

Wilbur is looking at him funnily.

A dog barks from nowhere, snapping Tommy out of his concerns.

A small dog with skittering footsteps is running across the ground, a small white dog who is running right at Tommy and barking. For some reason, Tommy doesn’t feel too scared.

Techno opens his mouth, “Floof, no!”

The dog jumps and knocks Tommy to the ground. 

For a split second Tommy is scared, before there’s the semi-familiar feel of a dog licking his face. Tommy laughs and attempts to fight off the dog, before succumbing to laughter.

The dog licks his face, and Tommy laughs. “No, no,” he laughs with his hands up, “Don’t, don’t,” he wheezes, “It tickles.”

“Did Floof…” Phil starts.

“Not attack someone new?” Wilbur finishes.

“Help!” Tommy cries out, “I have a beast attacking- ah stop it!”

Floof, apparently that’s what this animal is called. Stops and looks at Tommy, head tilted and eyes looking at him. Tommy looks back, before bringing a sleeved arm up to his face and rubbing at his dog dribbled covered face.

Everyone’s silent.

“Yeah?” Tommy says, looking at three shocked faces. “Are you all good?”

“He… didn’t attack you,” Wilbur adds again, clarifying so much (and no, that isn’t sarcastic, not at all ). “That’s… odd for Floof, he’s an aggressive dog.”

“He is not!” Techno adds, holding his arms out and the small dog runs into them. “He’s my therapy dog,” Techno explains, “He’s a big softie, and has never done anything bad.”

“I still have scars from him biting me!” Wilbur yells, and everyone ignores him.

Floof barks with what Tommy would call joy (he doesn’t know much about dogs, but it seems like it’s a happy sort of bark.)

Techno sighs and hugs Floof, “He attacks people he doesn’t know,” Techno explains and narrows his eyes at Tommy. “Have you broken into my apartment?”

“I… don’t think so?”

“Wow, that sounds confident,” Wilbur adds, and everyone ignores him.

“Cool,” Techno says.

Floof jumps out of his arms, and sprints away. 

“Don’t bite Quackity!” Techno yells after Floof, like a dog can understand English. Floof seems to pause for a moment, mulling it over, before starting his sprint again and barking his way down the hallway. “I am… going to stop him from biting Quackity again.”

Phil smiles, and nods.

Techno leaves, sighing.

About thirty seconds later there’s the noise of someone who sounds like Quackity screaming, which makes Phil laugh and Wilbur smiles like he’s trying to suppress a laugh.

Then there’s barking, Techno saying something and then Quackity saying something back in a slightly more frantic voice.

Phil is recording this all, just the sound and him wheezing in the background.

Tommy will have to get that footage off Phil.

Soon after that, he goes into his office and starts by looking through any new emails and stuff he’s gotten. There’s nothing of there of value, so Tommy takes a brief moment to Tweet as Theseus.

(Look, he’s using the Wi-Fi here, surely they have secure connections that are much more difficult to trace back.)

@theseusiguess : wtf, @arandomintern maybe your boss shouldn’t kick people off of buildings. Then we wouldn’t be in this issue. WOULD WE?

Tommy can’t help himself, and switches to his other account.

@arandomintern: @theseusiguess MAYBE GET A REAL JOB AND DON’T GET KICKED OFF ROOFS. YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL.

Then he goes back to his work, like a good little worker who makes minimum wage. (Okay that’s not true, he doesn’t make minimum wage, but it’s hilarious to joke about and who’s going to stop him anyway?)

The rest of the day is a quiet one, Tommy uploads the video of Phil attacking Wilbur with his hat and captions it. “Another… another hat fight” because that is objectively hilarious and everyone else seems to think so too.

Nothing else exciting happens, Tommy spends his time only half doing work, half scrolling through social media, which is technically his job for now.

There’s a knock at the door, and Techno is leaning in the doorway. “Hey.”

“Hi?”

“I have an interview, not tomorrow, but the next day.”

“Is that my problem?” Tommy asks, it’s ruder than he meant and Techno raises his eyebrows at that. “What I meant… is that something I need to do work for?”

“I reckon,” Techno shrugs, “I hate all the PR people apart from you, so you’re going to manage this.”

“I am nineteen.”

“I doubt that,” Techno mutters, “But sure, you can manage an interview. Make sure I don’t fuck up too much, make sure that I don’t get myself in trouble, Phil doesn’t kill me and I don’t answer any questions about my past.”

“Holy shit,” Tommy adds, fumbling for a piece of paper, “We need a list?”

“We need a list,” Techno grabs a chair, dragging it in front of Tommy’s desk and sitting down. “Okay, no tragic backstory questions, probably don’t let them ask about why I call my sword orphan obliterator… what SBI stands for, anything about Wilbur’s recent mistakes.”

Tommy shakes out his hand, and writes a little bit faster.

“Also about the treason I committed that one time.”

“You’ve… committed treason,” Tommy sighs, “And I’m currently doing PR work for you? Define treason.”

“I may have tried to stab some government officials.”

Tommy sighs, “When was this?”

“Before.”

“Before?”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

Tommy groans and hits his head on the table a few times, wishing for a sweet and merciful death. Maybe he should just quit and hedge his luck with being a waiter or something, that almost went well last time, until the establishment went up in smoke.

When Tommy eventually looks up, Techno is amused.

“Where’s Floof?”

“Dunno,” Techno shrugs, “Probably pesterin’ Kristin for food, he learnt to use the elevators. I can ask Henry.”

“He’s up and running again?”

“To a degree,” Techno looks up at the roof, “Hey, Henry? Where’s Floof?”

There’s the noise of something beeping, “Floof is on the first floor, he is currently running around in circles and amusing all of the people here on tour. Would you like me to contact someone to retrieve him?”

“No, thank you,” Techno looks back at Tommy, “Thank you Henry.”

“You and Wilbur are both very polite to Henry.”

“When the AI rises up,” Techno gives Tommy a look, “I want Henry on my side. Also he’s very polite.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, and looks back at piece of paper covered in instructions. “Is that all? Do I need to ask the interviewer what sorta questions they’re going to ask?”

“Yup.”

“Great.”

“Good luck,” Techno stands up, puts the chair back and leaves.

Tommy sighs as the door latches quietly. He isn’t qualified for shit… he doesn’t have any people skills and he needs a nap.

He’ll demand a raise after this.

Several raises.

He looks back at the list on the paper and sighs again.

Something traitorous in the back of his head wonders why Techno had so many things he didn’t want to talk about.

The underpaid part of his brain doesn’t care.

He ends up deciding that he doesn’t care, not enough to pursue it at least.

Instead he goes the long (and annoying) route of getting in contact with the people doing the interview, making sure that none of the questions have anything to do with the things Techno said were off the table.

He really, really deserves to be paid more.

He gets home on public transport, because of course he does, and he only needs to elbow one person out of the way and ignore one mugging happening because he does not get paid enough to deal with this.

(Other people had this under control, Tommy just wanted to go home.)

He gets home, opening the apartment door.

Tubbo is sitting at the table, surrounded by papers, a pen in his mouth and Ranboo sitting next to him, leaning over so he’s looking at the computer.

“Tommy!” Tubbo exclaims, “Come here, right now,” he gestures and Tommy walks over, setting his bag down on the floor next to them. “Okay, okay, so… this is kinda a long story… a length story, so, so, so.”

Tommy grins slightly at his friend's antics for a moment, and Tubbo responds with a deep breath and tries to collect his thoughts.

“So first of all this laptop is super encrypted. Like all the data is written in codes and stuff, that’s no trouble,” Tubbo slaps the binder on the table, it’s filled with papers and codes and coding lines that Tommy just understood. “Now, it’s asymmetrical encryption, Tommy, you know what a nightmare that is to get around.”

Tommy shudders slightly, “So much manual reverse engineering.”

“Yup!” Tubbo claps his hands together. “So side channels and ciphertext analysis were the best ways in. Theory is that to access all of this data you get given the private key from whatever headquarter. Basic enough… I go through that nightmare process, I find all the things that I gotta find.”

Tommy nods slowly.

“And this is all the useful information,” Tubbo shifts the laptop so that Tommy is looking at it. “Two names… two names I have not seen before in my life, went through the government records I could find… birth certificates and nothing.”

“What names?” Tommy asks and squints at the laptop. 

“Fruit… and… Squid?”

“Those have got to be code names,” Ranboo says, scouring over something on his phone. “Those aren’t real names.”

“Your name is Ranboo,” Tubbo argues, “I’m Tubbo… like… weird names aren’t exactly rare.”

“Squid and Fruit?” Tommy deadpans, “That’s particularly odd.”

Tubbo hums and leans back in his seat, “Everything else is just… administrative things… with companies and stuff, just money transfers and stuff. I can’t figure out why there are money transfers.”

“They sell the tech,” Ranboo adds, “At least… that’s what the written files say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy asks, looking at his friend who looks uneasy to say the least. “Ranboo, this might be important, what do you mean?”

Ranboo looks down at his hands, “Well… is the tech overpriced?”

“Yup,” Tubbo chimes, “The stuff that I made is not worth what they’re selling it for.”

“Can I look at the financial records?” Ranboo asks.

Tubbo nods and passes the laptop over. For a moment Ranboo scrolls up and down using the trackpad and he winces slightly. “I don’t think they’re hiring out the tech.”

“Holy shit!” Tubbo snatches the laptop back, “You think they’re hiring out fighters?”

Ranboo nods.

Tommy sits down.

The cages. The cages make sense.

Tommy shudders, and looks at Ranboo, who’s looking smaller

For a long moment they all sit there.

“We’re going to need Technoblade,” Tubbo says. “Something I forgot to mention… in trying to get that key from the headquarters… I think we found it.”

“What?” Tommy manages. “We found it?”

Tubbo shrugs, “A location, at the very least… somewhere that we can raid, see what happens.”

“Holy shit,” Tommy mutters and runs a hand through his hair. “Holy shit. Can we topple this thing?”

“It’s looking that way,” Tubbo mutters, “I have the funniest feeling that uprooting this thing will cause… so many problems. Do you want to do that?”

Tommy runs a hand down his face, “It’s a difficult thing to do by myself.”

“You have the ragtag vigilante team,” Ranboo adds, “Purpled, Aurelian, Slimecicle… Technoblade. If something releases on you, you have people behind you.”

Tommy sighs and runs a hand down his face. “I’ll think about it.”

And it’s true.

He does think about it, and he backs himself out of doing it, because he’s a coward. He’s a coward, and a child and he doesn’t know how he’d even start dismantling a screwed up thing.

He thinks about it.

He sleeps on the couch again.

(Ranboo and Tubbo are still having nightmares that wake Tommy up, and they’re trying to distance themselves so that Tommy stops waking up in the night to them screaming. It’ll never work.)

He thinks, he ponders.

Then Ranboo wakes up screaming and thrashing and begging for his life. In struggling breaths, Tommy can’t do anything but watch as Ranboo shakes and cries and begs that he’s spared.

Yeah.

Tommy made up his mind the second that he shot awake and Ranboo screamed.

Now is the question of how to topple something that has been around longer than himself.

He supposes the first thing is to investigate the location that Tubbo gave him.

The second thing is to make whoever hurt his best friend's wish that they’d never laid a hand on anyone.

---

Chapter Text

Wilbur is a fucking idiot.

It’s not like this is a new fact to Techno. Techno’s known him for about eight years now. He’s seen Wilbur at his best (well what must be his best because it went downhill from there) and his worst.

When Wilbur was seventeen, and Techno was too he had watched Wilbur say “are babies technically people?” And for about three hours Techno and Wilbur had argued the logistics and if babies counted as people. Phil had walked in heard the sentence “they don’t have thoughts!” Then left.

Techno had won that argument, but it started a theme that could not be stopped.

Techno had also been told a story from when Wilbur was a kid, about ten or so, he had apparently looked Phil in the eyes and said “isn’t a dog just a tall giraffe?”

Which led to some interesting out of context sentences such as.

“I’m going to keep my ears until the day I die.”

Or masterpieces such as “I’m pattin’ my milk.”

Then Wilbur would go off the most poetic rants that Techno had ever heard about the life and fate of the universe, and why everything they did meant something.

All in all, Wilbur was the smartest dumbass Techno had ever met.

Which led Techno to where he is currently sitting, legs on the desk, while Wilbur is pacing in front of him. He pauses, looks at the roll-in white board that he brought in here and then starts pacing again.

He looks at the blurry photo of Theseus printed out and with magnets holding it to the whiteboard. There are a bunch of arrows and notes that Wilbur has added frantically.

Techno sighs again and looks back at his report.

“We just have no idea!” Wilbur exclaims, “I want to apologise to him.”

Techno hums, and ignores him, instead reading a report about hybrid traits and the rising percentage of hybrid people. Wilbur knocks on his desk, and Techno looks over the report and glares.

“What?”

“We’re trying to figure out who Theseus is.”

“ You’re trying to figure out who Theseus is,” Techno looks back down at his reports, pausing on one of percentages about the rising level of arachnid hybrids and the potential causes. “Floof and I are trying to learn about hybrids.”

Wilbur sighs. “Techno, help me.”

“Nah.”

There’s a knock at the door, and Tommy is standing there, blond hair, slightly scrappy clothes, but looking the best that Techno’s ever seen him. The effects of some breaks, some better food and actual medical attention.

He looks tired, but otherwise okay.

“Tommy!” Wilbur exclaims and Techno takes note of the way that Tommy looks shocked for a moment… almost wary.

Interesting.

“What do you know about Theseus?”

“Huh?” Is what Tommy says, and Techno starts laughing.

Like, really laughing.

Both Wilbur and Tommy look at him, very, very confused to say the least. Techno keeps laughing, aware he sounds like a goose. 

“Yeah Tommy,” Techno laughs, “What do you know about Theseus?”

Tommy blinks at him. “Uh… vigilante… made a PR nightmare for me and I got into beef on Twitter with him.”

Techno laughs harder.

Wilbur looks confused. Tommy looks very nervous. He glances at Wilbur. “Check Twitter.”

Wilbur scrambles to grab his phone. He pauses for a few moments, before looking at Tommy, looking back at his phone, and then looking at Tommy again. “You got in Twitter beef… with fucking Theseus?”

Techno suppresses his laughter, and reaches out for his phone.

1. ● Superheroes ● Trending

#tommyvstheseus

10.6k Tweets

Techno pulls a face, and looks at Tommy, who looks awkward to say the least.

“What did you say?” Wilbur asks, “Please, please, where is the thread?”

Tommy grumbles something, and looks down at the floor, looking like he’s regretting every decision that he’s ever made. Techno stifles yet another laugh.

That’s how they discover that Tommy tweeted at Theseus, and Theseus replied, and that led to this chaos that is currently happening. Techno laughs as Tommy explains it and goes redder and redder.

“I was mad about being given a media nightmare to work with,” Tommy explains, still looking slightly guilty and Techno laughs. “So… found out that Theseus had a Twitter account, and it’s actually him there are some photos and stuff of him up on buildings. Then… Tweeted at him, and he replied.”

Wilbur wheezes from his spot on the ground. “You’re fraternizing with the enemy!” He yells.

Tommy’s eyes dart around for a bit, and he shrugs. “Fraternizing with the enemy has saved your career.”

Which is true. It has done that.

Techno’s eyes dart back to the report.

Floof yaps. He looks at Tommy, to the blurry photo of Theseus that is on the whiteboard. Floof looks back at Tommy and yaps again.

Tommy’s eyes go wide for a moment.

Techno rolls his eyes. “Wilbur’s trying to apologise to Theseus,” he sighs and Wilbur’s nose wrinkles up. 

“Are you?”

“Am I?”

“Wilbur you had a breakdown ten minutes ago because you were sorry,” Techno deadpans, “You’re a good actor, but you’re not that good.”

He grumbles something underneath his breath, and Techno’s eyes settle on the report. “Why did you come in Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy adjusts his jacket. “Uh, interview thing? That’s today.”

Techno sighs, “How long ago was it supposed to start?”

“Five minutes ago.”

“Yup.” Techno stands up, putting the report on the desk and looking at Wilbur, then at Floof. “Floof, you’re in charge. He’s not allowed in my seat.”

“I’m not going to sit in your seat!” Wilbur calls out as Techno gets out the door, “I don’t need anymore scars.”

With an eye roll, Techno closes the door behind him and looks at Tommy. He looks… frazzled to say the least, like something just shifted in his brain, and he looks like he hasn’t had a lot of sleep.

Tommy takes a steadying breath, and Techno pretends he doesn’t notice it. “Okay,” Tommy says, walking in-step with Techno as they approach the elevator. “Okay, so basically, it’s going to be live-streamed on the L’Manburg news website and on one of their stations. So messing this up will not be a good look.”

“Got it.”

“Uh… some questions are going to be about my beef with Theseus, what you think of vigilantes, powers-”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not answering anything about my enhancements,” Techno keeps his head forward and his face expressionless but that doesn’t stop his stomach from dropping slightly and a silent panic taking hold of his body for a split second. 

He glances at Tommy, who looks confused. His mouth is open to say something, and Techno already knows what it is.

“Yes, I have an enhancement. No, I’m not telling anyone what it is.”

“That wasn’t on the list!” Tommy swears several times underneath his breath, before getting out his phone. “I fuckin’ hate it here, I need a pay rise.”

Tommy pauses, “Why the fuck do you call it an enhancement?”

“Hmm?”

“Everyone calls them powers.”

“Well mine’s an enhancement.”

“That implies you weren’t born with it,” Tommy adds, absent-mindedly and laughing down at his phone.

Techno doesn’t reply.

Tommy looks at him, eyes wide. “You… weren’t born with a power?”

Techno waves a hand, “We’re not having this conversation. It doesn’t matter. I’m not talking about my enhancements. I’m not speaking on Wilbur’s and Phil’s behalf on anything, or whatever else is on that list.”

Tommy sighs, and groans, “I deserve a pay rise.”

Techno shrugs, the pair of them enter the elevator and Tommy runs a hand down his face.

“If they ask about your Twitter drama, you can take the question.”

“Can I?” Tommy lightens up, suddenly looking around the age that Techno suspects he is. 

Techno just nods once.

Tommy grins.

The elevator dings, and Techno takes a deep breath. He hates interviews. Apparently trying to speedrun the end of his career isn’t the best way to do interviews.

Tommy looks at him, eyes concerned for a split second. “I’ll cut in if you’re really uncomfortable.”

“Thanks.”

Tommy shakes out his hands.

The elevator door opens.

First thing is an entire camera crew operating. The second thing is that they’ll just be doing this on some seats. There are two set up, facing each other and Techno glances at Tommy.

Tommy’s already gone, he’s talking to someone in a suit who has a tablet and nodding.

Welp, the introvert has lost his emotional support extrovert. Looks like he’s going to go stand in a corner and wait for someone to find him. 

(That happened at a party once. Techno had lost Wilbur, and then he’d stood in a corner glaring at everyone until Wilbur collected him, and was slightly drunk and stumbling all over the place. It was an interesting story, that was for sure.)

Tommy looks across and at Techno, “Go sit down,” Tommy smiles, “We’ll bring up another chair in a moment… I guess.”

Techno nods and walks over to the chair, he sits in the one that looks more comfortable and crosses his legs, feeling a lot fancier than he felt and folding his hands in his lap. He probably looks about half as uncomfortable as he feels.

He looks around at everyone, deciding that he could quickly take all of them in a fight. What he doesn’t like is that he knows, he knows that there will be eyes on him, analysing his every move and action.

With a sigh, Techno looks up at the roof. He could just hesitate on an answer for a few split seconds and then it’s trending on social media (that happened with Phil once.)

“Hello,” someone says, and Techno looks up. 

It’s a man with brown hair, a purple and green hoodie, a bright smile and a tablet in hand. Techno feels like he recognises him. 

“Do I know you?”

“I’m on the news,” he says happily, “Karl Jacobs, I do the reports on vigilantes. Don’t quite know how I landed this gig, but I’m happy to be here.”

“I… am not.”

Karl laughs, and throws his head back, he has a bit of an odd laugh (but so does Techno so he’s not judging.)

“Uh… I have a list of things you don’t want to talk about,” Karl taps at the tablet in hand. “Are any of them negotiable?”

“Not really.”

“Cool,” Karl sits down. “So I’m guessing no talking about that time you stabbed the head of the treasury?”

“Nope.”

“Excellent,” Karl claps his hands together and Tommy drags a chair over, and sits next to Techno. “Um…” he looks at Techno, “Who’s this.”

“Tommy,” Tommy says, “Person behind the Twitter drama with Theseus. Also SBI’s social media… manager? Is that my official title?”

“Somehow,” Techno mutters, “Pretty good for a nineteen year old.”

Karl lights up, “Woah, that’s incredible. At nineteen? Were you the one that uh… Shelly, I’m not sure where she is, was in contact with?”

“I am.”

Karl whistles, and looks clearly impressed. “Well… if your job doesn’t work out here, we’d be ecstatic to have you.”

Tommy glances at Techno, and Techno shrugs. “Probably don’t talk about job offers with one of my bosses here,” he jerks his head at Techno. “After, however… how much would you guys pay?”

“More than these guys.”

Techno groans, “Alright, alright. Tommy, if you leave me for journalists I am going to kick you.”

Tommy huffs and crosses his arms.

Karl laughs. “What’s wrong with journalists?” He asks.

Techno gives him a look.

Karl laughs louder, and shakes his head slightly.

“On in fifteen!” Someone calls out.

Like that Karl sits up slightly straighter, his demeanor changing. Not completely, but just enough that Techno notices it and glances around.

Quickest entrance would be the window, second is the door. The easiest weapon to use is the chairs, but it might not be the most effective. If a fight broke out Techno would go for one of the camera stands. They’re heavy, and could knock someone out (or just be property damage.)

Karl clears his throat and Techno’s eyes snap back to him.

“Today I’m joined by everyone’s favourite vigilante turned hero, Techno… who has an undisclosed last name.”

Techno snorts and Tommy glances at him. “Yup.”

“So… Techno, can I ask about the path from being a vigilante to a hero and how that worked?” Karl asks, and hey, it’s not about Techno’s past directly, and it seems like a fair enough question.

Look, there are lots of vigilantes, and all of them want to be heroes. Most of them, Techno is almost certain that the Purpled kid that he met when he saw Theseus does not want to be a hero.

So from what Techno knows about journalism, it’s an excellent question.

Techno sighs and rubs a hand down his face, “Honestly… just be friends with heroes. There are so many problems with that model, but it’s how I did it. Or have the government trying to figure out your powers so they recruit you for that.”

Tommy snorts.

Karl looks at Tommy and smiles, “For anyone wondering, this is Tommy, the person behind SBI’s social media page recently and the Theseus drama on Twitter. Tommy… why did you decide to argue back?”

“I’m an argumentative person,” Tommy grins.

“Yup,” Techno sighs, “You are.”

“No I’m not.”

Techno looks at the camera and just stares for a moment. 

Tommy huffs and crosses his arms, sticking his tongue at Techno and Techno looks at Karl. 

“Am I allowed to flip him off?”

“Uh…” Karl glances over his shoulder at some of the crew. “I don’t think so.”

“Wait, can I swear?” Tommy asks, “Swearing is about fifty percent of my personality-”

“That’s true-”

Tommy opens his mouth, and just glares at Techno for a long moment. “Anyone who idolises Techno, do not, he is an adult who watches videos of guinea pigs instead of doing his work.”

Techno pauses and looks at Tommy.

Interesting.

The kid’s more observant than he lets on.

Tommy looks back at Karl. “This man is a nightmare.”

Karl nods, and looks amused to say the least. “I think anyone with a brain can see that you two are quite brotherly… Tommy, how long have you worked for SBI?”

Tommy laughs.

Techno stays quiet.

Tommy looks at him. “Wait, what?”

“Answer the question, Tommy,” Techno deadpans and watches Tommy make up several new stages of grief with all the expressions on his face. Tommy then looks at Karl, his mouth half-open. Techno sighs. “About three weeks, although he’s had some medical issues come up and has had a while off work.”

Apparently that was the opening that Karl needed, “So,” Karl says, “What is the pay like?”

“Um.”

Techno wants to die of laughter, because Tommy is the one currently floundering for things to say, rather than Techno. Which is a nice change of pace for his normal interviews, in which Wilbur or Phil need to save him otherwise he became a mess that was number one on trending for at least six hours.

Tommy takes a deep breath and glances at Techno. “Uh. It’s more than you think actually, I do not make minimum wage. That’s for sure… I mean rent is way easier than it was when I wasn’t working here, and these guys are like shockingly accommodating.”

“Oh?” Karl says. “Wait… we’ve gotten off-track.”

“We have,” Techno muses, “You were asking me about vigilantes and I said that the easiest way is to befriend a hero.”

Karl nods, and apparently remembers, “Would you say that’s why you’re known for being one of the more… lenient heroes when it comes to vigilantes.”

Techno hums for a moment, thinking for a moment. The long of it is no, but the short of it is yes. He sighs and shuffles in his chair.

“Yeah, I guess,” Techno shifts again and shrugs, “It’s more like… I can relate to them more, like I’ve not made rent before and stuff. And… I honestly can’t relate to a lot of these people that went to all of these private schools that cost more than some of the places I’ve lived in. They’re all okay… I get along with almost everyone in the tower. I just have a soft spot for vigilantes I guess.”

“Well,” Karl glances down at the tablet in his lap, “Have you worked with vigilantes in the past, and would you work with them going forwards?”

“Yup,” Techno grins and folds his hands into his lap, he glances at Tommy who is looking down at his shoes like they’re the most interesting thing in the entire world. “I have before… while I haven’t ever been on a mission with one, I’ve exchanged information and stuff before, and more than willing to directly work with them.”

Karl tilts his head and leans forward. “Oh? That sounds like an invitation.”

“Because it is,” Techno says and glances at Tommy, then looks back at Karl, leaning forward in his seat. “Look. Working with Theseus would really, really piss off some people here and I really enjoy pissing off people here.”

Tommy snorts and nods.

Techno leans back into his seat and gives a sly smile that is going to make people lose their minds and he’ll trend on social media for at least an hour (maybe more depending on how real it looks.) 

“So Theseus,” Techno looks into the camera, “When you inevitably find out about this. I think you know how to contact me.”

Karl laughs, “I highly doubt that Theseus is watching this.”

Techno shrugs, “He might be.”

With another laugh, Karl waves his hand, “So… some say that being a hero is a lonely job. Techno, when was the last time you were hugged? Tommy, you can answer too if you’d like.”

Techno laughs, because it’s an odd question. “Uh… maybe a day or two ago, Wilbur hugged me to try and save himself from Phil, I get hugged a surprising amount for someone who always has a knife on him.”

Tommy is oddly quiet, and Techno isn’t going to comment on it, he’s going to let it slide and then everything would be alright.

“What about you, Tommy?” Karl asks.

Techno wants to throw Karl a little bit, just yeet him out the window. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand down his face.

Tommy shrugs, “I mean… depends on what you call a hug.”

Karl pulls a face, “Okay, what about one of those squishing hugs?”

“Uh,” Tommy shrugs, “I can’t remember.”

Touchstarvedinnit, lonelyinnit, hug, hug, protect, E, /rainbowchat, touchstarvedinnit.

Chat whispers in the back of his brain, and Techno mutters something under his breath, mostly swear words which causes Karl’s gaze to settle one him and look at him with curiosity.

Karl nods, “Techno, and you?”

“An aggressive hug? Like… three days ago.”

“Damn,” Karl mutters, “That’s alright, you’re not that lonely then, despite what the media has theorised.”

“Not lonely, just selective about who I spend my time with,” Techno nods his head towards Tommy who seems to lighten up and smile, a small smile, but one meaningful enough that Techno is so incredibly grateful he did that. “Gotta make sure I actually like ‘em, and Tommy’s alright.”

“Alright?” Tommy laughs.

“Alright,” Techno finishes, “Average at best.”

Tommy snorts and shakes his head slightly. 

Karl nods and looks between Tommy and Techno, “Well, it was nice to talk to you. But the news gives us very short segments, so I think this might be wrapping it up. Unless either of you have anything else to add?”

Tommy nods, and shifts forwards so that he’s leaning ahead and he looks at the camera. “Theseus, if you’re out there, I fucking hate you.”

Techno laughs, throwing his head back, and while Karl may not be a fan of the swearing on live TV or directly dissing a vigilante, it’s just objectively funny and anyone who says otherwise is wrong.

Tommy grins and looks back at Karl, “Nice to talk to you man, just know if I ever see Theseus in real life… let’s just say… I will find a knife.”

Techno barks with laughter again, looking at Tommy. “Please don’t stab my potential allies, I don’t have many.”

Tommy laughs, also throwing his head back.

“And we’re done,” someone announces and Tommy grins at that. “Thank you for your cooperation!”

“Glad it’s over,” Techno says and Karl laughs, Techno isn’t joking but these guys don’t need to know that. “Are Tommy and I good to go now?”

Karl nods and smiles, “Again, lovely talking to you both!” His eyes darts to Tommy and settle there, “Yeah… you’re gonna do great things kid. Only nineteen, Jenny, do you believe he’s only nineteen-”

Before Tommy’s head can get too big, Techno stood up and beckoned for Tommy to follow which he did, still glowing from the praise that he got before. He’s standing slightly taller and just looks… content, if he’s being completely honest.

For a moment they just walk to the elevator, in silence, as Techno tries to figure out the best way to handle this situation. Techno is awkward, but it seems like Tommy is just a tad touch starved.

“The hugging question was an odd one,” Techno says instead, it’s neutral ground and easier to back out like this. “Haven’t been asked that question lie that before.”

“Yeah…” Tommy laughs, it’s awkward and forced and Techno knows exactly what he’s supposed to do here.

(As a good person that cares for his worker, no other reasons. Not like he cares about Tommy at all. Techno is not a good person that will ever care about anyone apart from the people he already knew.)

Techno sighs as the elevator opens. “Do you want a hug?”

Tommy jumps, like the words burned him. “No.”

Alright then. Techno shrugs, and steps into the elevator.

“I mean… I wouldn’t be opposed to it?”

Techno rubs at his face and just looks at Tommy, raising an eyebrow. He isn’t great with social cues, and has no idea what this means in stubborn-teenage speak, what the fuck does Tommy actually want? Does Tommy want a hug or not?

“What?”

“Well… a hug would be nice. I guess… not that I want one or anything,” Tommy looks at the other wall, away from Techno and Tommy looks down at his shoes again like they’re the most interesting thing ever.

“Please just use your words, I am awful with social cues.”

Tommy shakes his head, and hugs his arms around his middle.

Okay. His therapist is about to have a field day with this interaction. The entire thing is going to be dissected by her and she’s going to be very right about everything.

:Fine, I don’t want a hug.”

Techno smiles, there we go. “You want a hug?”

“No you prick!” Tommy yells, “I don’t want a hug-”

Techno moves, and wraps his arms around Tommy’s shoulders. They’re about the same height (Tommy is shorter, but not by a lot.) So it’s not that awkward, like Phil and Wilbur hugging can be.

Tommy freezes.

Somehow Techno knows that he’s not uncomfortable, he just… doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing. Techno hugs him tight, because sometimes teenagers just need to be hugged until their ribs crack.

Eventually Tommy relaxes, he doesn’t hug Techno back, but he doesn’t go to move away. He sniffles slightly, and Techno hugs him tighter for a moment.

Techno lets go first, and moves back slightly. 

Tommy wipes at his eyes furiously, like his tears are poisonous and will kill him if anyone sees him crying over… anything apparently.

“You can just ask me for a hug,” Techno says, looking ahead. “I’m going to give you a hug, I’m not that cruel.”

“I get hugged,” Tommy argues. “Just… not a lot. It makes my roommates feel a bit trapped… so around the shoulders and short hugs but…”

“They don’t like long hugs,” Techno adds and gives a knowing smile. “Wilbur used to be like that for a while. He still is sometimes.”

Tommy nods.

“But I’m almost sure if you asked for a hug, he’d give you a hug.”

The elevator opens and Techno glances at the kid. 

They step out and Techno starts on his way to his office and Tommy follows him. 

“Public transport is awful,” Tommy groans and drags his feet across the ground. “It’s a five minute walk too! Can I claim this on tax.”

“Uh… I don’t think so.”

Tommy groans, “Everyone is so creepy on there, I’ve had people just staring at me… like what if I’m murdered?”

“I don’t think you’ll be murdered,” Techno opens the door.

Floof is sitting on Techno’s desk, and Wilbur is on the floor, laying on his stomach and watching YouTube. It is also clear to see who has the power advantage in this dynamic. It’s just about as clear as day.

Techno sighs, and Floof doesn’t move from his desk.

“But public transport,” Tommy groans.

Wilbur looks up from his phone. “I can pick you up,” he says, “It’s not too much of a detour, I normally pick up Techno days we’re both working.”

Techno smiles, that’s a lie. Wilbur hasn’t picked Techno up since last time it hailed. Most days Techno walks to work anyway, or on the odd occasion the weather is terrible, then Wilbur or Phil will collect him.

But it’s sweet. Sweet enough that Techno keeps his mouth shut for once, and instead nods at Tommy who looks slightly shocked.

“It’s a way outta public transport,” Techno muses and Tommy nods… he looks starstruck again, something that Techno thought Tommy had gotten over. Apparently he hadn’t. 

Wilbur sighs, “Don’t worry about it, sometimes he goes all fanboy over Phil. Give him like thirty seconds and he’ll start cussing us out again.”

Techno nods, and puts Floof on the ground who barks in process. “No,” Techno says, “This is my desk, and you are no longer in charge.”

Floof gives puppy-dog eyes.

And he’s back on the desk as quickly as he was removed.

Tommy nods, “Y-yeah, that would be great Wilbur. Thank you.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes, “It’s no issue.”

That’s a lie. It’s the opposite direction from where Wilbur lives. Wilbur could spend that extra time getting McDonalds or anything remotely exciting, but he’s spending it picking up Tommy.

Tommy stands there for a moment longer.

“I think you have work to do, Tommy,” Techno says, amusement in his voice.

Tommy nods and stumbles over his own feet to leave the room, and further down the hallway there’s a thumping noise which sounds suspiciously like someone walking into a door.

Wilbur laughs, his eyes still on his phone. He’s not laughing at the video though.

Techno just stares at his brother, until he feels eyes on him and looks over his shoulder.

“What?”

“No trouble,” Techno says as Floof headbutts his arm. “You said that this was no trouble,” he shakes his head and Wilbur looks back at his phone, looking quite embarrassed. “You’re getting attached to the kid.”

“I’m not!” Wilbur says, voice higher than usual. “I don’t like him, I just… don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

Techno huffs, “Yeah… like you didn’t want anything bad to happen to me.”

“You were a traumatised child,” Wilbur groans, “Of course I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Sure, sure,” Techno deadpans, “You don’t care at all about that child.”

“I don’t!”

Techno just shakes his head, “Get outta my office, you have a million reports to read through.”

“Did you do them all at once?”

“Yup.”

Wilbur groans and removes himself as a bad looking ottoman from Techno’s floor. He grumbles, opens the door and closes it.

Techno laughs to himself. “Doesn’t care about the kid,” Techno repeats and laughs again. “Okay then Wilbur. ”

 Much to no one’s surprise, both Techno and Tommy trend on social media for a good chunk of time. It’s not surprising that Theseus has found out about it, whoever the fuck he might be… 

So when there’s a note on the door, stuck up by blue-tack, Techno wants to laugh.

     We found something.

     Meet on the roof of the tower at 10pm tonight.

          (Please), Theseus

Techno sighs, but cracks his knuckles. Right. He can do this.

---

Chapter Text

“Oi loser,” Wilbur had said, and Tommy had looked up from his computer, “You’re going home.”

“Huh?”

“Techno wants me to finish reports, and you have to go home… so I’m dodging reports, and you can get home.”

“I still have work to do?”

“Nope, you should’ve clocked off by now,” Wilbur leans against the door frame and smiles, Tommy rolls his eyes. “Tommy please, Techno has a soft spot for you and he’s about to murder me. This is self interest.”

“Right,” Tommy sighs and stands up. “Do you even know how to get there?”

“I’ve taken you home before,” Wilbur scoffs, “Come on, I’m bored.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, stretches slightly and starts packing stuff into his backpack.

“Anytime this century.”

“Fuck off.”

Wilbur sighs and turns around, walking away.

Tommy shoves a manila folder into his backpack.

Then he walks after Wilbur, he’s skeptical that the man is about to murder him (it would cause a media outcry for one that someone else would have to deal with.) Tommy is however more worried about how good of a driver he was.

Last time… Wilbur wasn’t the best driver. (But Wilbur had also said that he was doing that to fuck with Tommy.)

It was a nice car, it was black and clean. Tommy had seen it before, and last time the back had been rather clean. Not awfully clean, just… cleanish. 

The walk to the carpark is quick enough, with them taking the stairs and Wilbur approaches the black car that Tommy recognises and smiles for a reason he can’t quite place. Wilbur grins and slaps the bonnet of his car.

“There she is.”

“Paid for that one yourself, huh?” Tommy laughs walking over to the passenger’s car. “Rather than had netherite millionaire Phil pay for it.”

“I hate you.”

“You hate that I’m right,” Tommy muses, “There’s a great one for the Twitter account.”

“How many followers do you have on that account?”

“Hundred thousand,” Tommy laughs and pulls out his phone to check, “Had a huge spike after the interview today, and there’s… fanart.”

Wilbur raises his eyebrows. “Like… bad fanart?”

“No, no, no,” Tommy waves his hand, “Like… drawing me with SBI.”

“Oh,” Wilbur shrugs, “That’s fine, same thing happened to Techno… is there any fanart of you opening Christmas presents? They’re normally pretty quick on that.”

“You are taking this calmly- THERE’S THESEUS FANART?”

Wilbur laughs, but it sounds slightly forced. He opens the car door and Tommy opens his own car door, actually getting in. They both settle in.

Tommy looks over his shoulder.

The car wasn’t clean at all, with rubbish filling the backseats (mostly fast food wrappers and packaging, but a few water bottles), Tommy screws up his nose and Wilbur raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Wilbur says, “I see how you live. Don’t critique my car.”

“Aren’t the heroes on diet plans? So they… actually have strength?”

Wilbur sighs and glances at Tommy, then all the rubbish in the back street. “Uh… don’t tell Phil? Techno is worse, he just doesn’t eat the food he needs… then he wonders why his powers don’t work.”

“Huh?”

“Techno’s supposed to eat a lot of pork and bacon and stuff for his powers to work properly… and he does not, so he’s basically as powerless as you.”

Tommy is not going to laugh at the irony of that.

But he exhales forcefully out of his nose.

Wilbur pulls a face at that. 

Tommy realises, once again, he has jeopardized himself slightly… again. At this point the fact that he’s Theseus is going to be common fucking knowledge, one of those unspoken things. Like that Philza Minecraft is old, or that Technoblade never sleeps.

“So…” Wilbur says, and there’s the low hum from the car. “What are you roommates like?” There’s some sort of unspoken thing underneath that, Tommy is pretty sure he knows what Wilbur’s implying… 

Tommy screws up his nose and turns to glance at Wilbur. “They’re cool, there’s… Tubbo and Ranboo, they’re both super awesome. I’ve known them since I was young… they’re seventeen, so technically I’m their guardian which is weird.”

That’s even weirder because Tommy is younger than them both. (But the government doesn’t know that, what the government knows about Thomas Underscore is that he’s nineteen, powerless and has a clean record.)

Three things that are just… so not true that it’s amusing.

“Yeah, we were all in a bit of a tough spot when we met,” Tommy pauses for a moment. 

Yeah. That’s the way to describe seeing two people covered in blood who just dragged themselves out of a fighting ring.

“And then, it was easier. They’re my best friends, I honestly… have no clue what I’d do without them.”

Wilbur’s silent for a moment. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Tommy laughs and leans back in the seat as Wilbur reverses out onto the road, throwing his feet up on the dash, Wilbur glares at him slightly.

He doesn’t move his feet.

Wilbur opens his mouth to say something, closes it, and opens it again. “That is incredibly unsafe.”

“You’re literally a superhero.”

“And? I’m not pushing my luck, feet down.”

“No.”

“If I stop, I’ll shatter some bones in your legs. If you don’t wanna… walk or run, or whatever the fuck teenagers do, put your feet down.” Wilbur snaps, eyes on the road as they pull out of the security checkpoint (Wilbur showing his ID) and they get nodded ahead.

Tommy sighs and puts his feet down. “Fun police.”

“Sorry I don’t want your legs broken.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ should be,” Tommy mutters, before looking back down at his phone. “Why is Twitter broken?”

“Uh,” Wilbur appears to be thinking for a moment, “Probably the interview, Techno smirked and for some reason people lost their minds.”

Tommy gags, “Ew.”

“Yup. You’re telling me, fucker looks like he’s in pain.”

Tommy nods, “Techno always looks like he’s in pain.”

Wilbur laughs and they stop at some traffic lights. 

He scrolls through social media for a bit as Wilbur drives. It’s more normal driving now, and Tommy feels like he’s not going to crash anytime soon. (Although, he isn’t completely sure that they won’t crash.)

The drive is quiet, Wilbur hums to the songs on the radio and Tommy taps his foot as the car drives through Upper L’Manburg, it chugs along and there’s an easy sort of silence around the pair of them.

Until Tommy, who is objectively stupid opens his mouth. “Why did… you… kick Theseus off that roof?” He asks and Wilbur freezes.

Tommy watches him go through ten stages of grief (doubling the normal amount) and Wilbur opens his mouth, closes it and looks… pained.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” Wilbur manages, voice barely shaking, but still shaking just enough that Tommy can pick it up. “I… yeah, I’m really fucking stupid. That’s why.”

“Right,” Tommy draws the word out, “I already knew that Wilbur.”

Wilbur sighs, it’s tired. “I… don’t have a good reason Tommy, it was a mistake. It’s a long story, and one that I’m not tellin’ you today.”

“Rightio,” Tommy sighs and leans back into his seat.

A beat of silence.

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Are you gonna fucking Tweet my apology to Theseus, you hate him as much as I do.”

Tommy pauses, glancing up from his phone. “You hate Theseus?”

Wilbur’s shoulders hunched up, his entire body seemed to tense out. 

He didn’t answer.

Damn. Okay then.

“You hate Theseus,” Tommy says, “Like… hate. If he was on fire and you had a bucket of water you’d tip it out next to him? Or… if you saw him bleeding out you’d turn around and leave him there.”

“I-” Wilbur manages, eyes still on the road, refusing to meet Tommy’s glare. “Don’t think so…”

“Think so?” Tommy repeats, eyes about the size of dinner plates. “You… think you wouldn’t let an innocent person die.”

“Vigilantes aren’t innocent,” Wilbur took a deep breath, “We’re not talking politics in the car.”

“Lives aren’t politics!” Tommy yells, only regretting it slightly, still he slapped his hand over his mouth.

Wilbur sighs, and glances at Tommy for a split second. “You’re right. They aren’t. Most of us in the tower call vigilantes politics… no one’s existence is politics. Sorry.”

Tommy huffs and shuffles down in his seat more, he doesn’t say it was alright, because it isn’t. But Wilbur seemed to understand that and he also stays quiet, the two of them listening to the music but with less enthusiasm.

The rest of the drive was quiet.

Until they pull up to the front of the apartment and Wilbur screws up his nose again.

“Look at your backseat,” Tommy deadpans, opening the door and clambering out of the car. “Look, at least my apartment is clean.” 

That’s a lie. The apartment was a mess.

“I doubt that.”

Tommy laughs, with the slightest eyeroll and gives Wilbur a wave. “Well, see you Wilbur.” Then he slams the car door shut.

He gets into the apartment.

It’s oddly quiet.

Ranboo had today off.

Tommy pauses, “Ranboo?”

It’s silent.

“Ranboo?” It’s slightly more desperate, “Ranboo I swear to Prime. If you’re messing with me I’m going to put spaghetti in your cereal.”

Still silent. The TV crackled and outside a tree rustled.

Tommy fell quiet, his hand darting to his phone. He grabs it and shoots Ranboo a text.

He waits for the ding.

It dings.

Ranboo’s phone is on the couch, buried by a bunch of pillows.

“Fuck,” Tommy says. 

The phone stares back at him.

Great. Ranboo’s been kidnapped again.

There’s a whimpering noise.

Tommy pauses, and whirls around to that noise.

Nothing’s there.

He may be going crazy.

“Ranboo?”

There’s another whimper.

From the bathroom.

And Tommy realises that he’s a fucking idiot.

He basically runs over to the bathroom door and knocks on it, “Ranboo?”

There’s a noise as his response. Tommy relaxes against the door and simply wants to pass out from how relieved he is that Ranboo hasn’t been kidnapped. (It happened once, no more repeats of that, thank you.)

“You okay, Ranboo?”

There’s a retching noise.

Ah. Fantastic.

Another retching noise and Tommy sighs. He doesn’t mind at all, he’s had his own nights where he’s sitting on the bathroom floor vomiting and his friends have been there for that. It’s more that it’s… four-thirty in the afternoon and Ranboo has been struggling for six days now.

That’s a long time for everyone.

Tommy’s tired, not as tired as Ranboo must be, but still tired.

He knocks on the door, “Ranboo, I will kick down the door, I need to know how bad it is.”

“Not great,” Ranboo whines.

“How much vomit?”

“Like… a lot?”

“Thanks for that certainty…” Tommy sighs and tries to open the door, it’s locked and Tommy raps on the door again. “Let me in, I thought you were kidnapped, I am willing to bust this door down.”

“Don’t,” Ranboo groans, “I’m fine.”

Ranboo is a liar.

Tommy sighs and knocks on the door again, the plan is to annoy Ranboo into not being a bastard and getting his shit together. He knocks again and Ranboo groans, perhaps he’d swear if he was someone who swore. But Ranboo does not swear, so Tommy gets the privilege of annoying the fuck outta him.

He knocks again.

Ranboo makes a noise, it’s a mix between a sigh and a groan.

The door clicks and Tommy opens it.

It’s not a pretty sight, Ranboo is essentially hugging the toilet, sitting in a way that can’t be comfortable. The bathroom is small at best of times, and can barely fit one person in it, let alone two.

But they make it work.

Tommy screws up his nose and steps so they both have at least some room. Which works better than he thought it would, and now they both have a bit of room.

He crouches down, next to Ranboo who looks up at him. He looks exhausted, there are unshed tears in his eyes, and snot on his sleeve, and a couple of tear stains on his sleeves too. Good, no scarring.

With a sigh, Tommy puts a hand on Ranboo’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“Bad dream,” Ranboo manages and leans into the touch slightly. They’ve never been a very touchy friend group, and the fact that Ranboo leans into it says a lot. “Very bad dream.”

“Ah shit,” Tommy mutters and runs a hand through Ranboo’s hair who relaxes at the touch. The white side of his hair has always been softer, and no one can figure out why. “You alright?”

Ranboo moves a shoulder in response and Tommy sighs.

“You could’ve called me home, I really don’t mind.”

“It was fine,” Ranboo says, “I’ve calmed down more.”

Tommy draws his hand away from Ranboo’s hair and rolls his eyes at his friend. He settles so that he’s sitting next to the toilet, his back against the wall.

“Talk about it if you want,” Tommy says lazily, his eyes half-closed, “Or not. I’ll be here anyway.”

Ranboo nods, and retches again, but he doesn’t actually vomit anything up. He grips onto the toilet. “Did I tell you what happens? Like… just before fights.”

“No,” Tommy looks at his friend, who’s a bit of a mess, but so is he honestly. He pauses, giving Ranboo a moment to collect himself.

“It’s… bad,” Ranboo mumbles, turning his face so he’s looking at Tommy. “My first fight. One of two… I-” Ranboo pauses and takes a deep breath, turning his head and rubbing it on his sleeve.

Tommy just nods, and pats Ranboo on the back.

“And… I got pretty badly hurt,” Ranboo’s breathing is slightly shaky and Tommy nods as he listens. “I think things got broken, I don’t really know it’s just kinda a blur of pain and me being barely awake. Just a lot of pain, y’know.”

Tommy does know a lot of pain, so he nods.

Ranboo sighs, “And… they waited until I was awake… and healed and I felt better, I felt so much better,” he runs a hand through his hair and looks at Tommy, something just… so, so sad in his eyes. “And… they handed me a knife and told I’d have to lose the tail or my life-”

Tommy slaps his hands over his mouth, and doesn’t care that his eyes fill with tears. 

What the fuck?

What the everloving fuck?

A hot rage fills him, and considering the way the wall cracks behind his back… he takes a deep breath and tries to control himself.

He doesn’t need the apartment blowing up. Not today.

Ranboo takes a deep breath and wipes at his eyes. “And… I grabbed the knife and my tail… and then they kept it-” Ranboo’s voice breaks, “They fucking kept it as a prize.”

Something smashes next to Tommy, and he jumps. The mirror shattered into pieces.

Tommy doesn’t care too much about the mirror, he instead looks at Ranboo. 

Ranboo sniffles and rubs at his face. “Can I have a hug?”

With a nod, Tommy grabs Ranboo and wraps him in a tight hug. Ranboo sniffles and Tommy hugs him tight.

He wishes that he could take away some of Ranboo’s pain, and hugs him like he could hug the pain from Ranboo’s body and into his own.

It’s slightly awkward, they’re both on the bathroom floor. It smells like vomit and Ranboo is doing that thing where he cries but not quite because there aren’t tears.

Tommy has seen Ranboo cry with tears once. Soon after the three of them saved each other, Ranboo had been the most put together for about a month or two. He’d kept it together, until he just broke down crying.

That had been painful to watch.

But still, Tommy just holds Ranboo as he cries or as close as he can get without his biology getting in the way.

They stay like that for a while.

Tubbo returns from school.

They make dinner.

Tommy sighs, sitting at the table, stabbing at his spaghetti. He looks at Tubbo, then at Ranboo whose hands are still shaking ever-so slightly.

“Give me the address. I’m contacting The Blade.”

Tubbo nods, and opens the laptop, like he’s expecting that. He pauses, writes something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Tommy.

“It’s an abandoned warehouse,” Tubbo says, in his other hand he’s holding the Theseus googles and smiling. “Keep your ear-piece in for once. Okay big man?”

Tommy takes the goggles and sighs.

He needs to get a message to Techno.

That’s how he ends up hanging off the side of the tower, tapping on the windows to see which ones open. Not a lot of them are open, which makes sense, the tower is supposed to have top security.

Lots of people have enhancements that can get them up this high.

Tommy taps on a window, and it shifts. 

He pauses.

Before peering in.

It’s Techno’s office, very empty.

With Floof sitting on the desk.

Floof looks at him and tilts his head.

Tommy presses a finger to where his mouth would be (if the mask wasn’t there), and slides the window up.

Floof stares at him and yaps happily.

“Shhh,” Tommy says, careful that no one will hear him. Especially not the cameras as he slides in through the window. He shakes out his hands, before going through Techno’s draws.

Hopefully Techno keeps blue-tack somewhere.

Techno’s draws are incredibly boring, with reports and pens making up the majority of it. The only exciting thing in it is a photo. It’s a blurry photo, that’s for sure, one that Tommy can barely make out without holding towards his face.

He holds it towards his eyes, it’s a photo with three boys in them. One of them has pink hair, maybe Techno. He looks… angry, he’s smiling in the photo, but it’s blurry and there’s something more unhinged under there.

The boy on his left has black hair and concerningly pale skin, with a beanie… that has an animal on the beanie that he can’t make out with the blur and the low light of the office. The boy on the right is glaring at the camera, and is wearing a bright green t-shirt and looks pretty bloody.

Tommy stares at it for a moment, before turning it over in his hands. On the back is writing, it’s scribbled and very messy. He looks at it for a longer moment.

     Don’t die. I found this somewhere, get some closure.

It isn’t signed

Tommy stares, before shoving it back in the draw and finding the blue tack that he was desiring. He pulls a bit out and sticks it on the back of the note that he wrote, with the pen.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door to Techno’s office and swings it open. So that he can stand in the doorway, and slam the door closed if he needs to.

He sticks the note to the door, it’s anticlimactic to say the least.

Floof barks.

Tommy jumps and looks to face him, giving his best ‘wtf Floof?’ Look as he can, he pauses and waits to hear anything. When he hears nothing he sighs, giving Floof another glare and Floof barks again.

“Oi, Techno-”

Tommy freezes.

He looks up, at Wilbur.

Wilbur’s mouth is half-open. “Oh. You’re not Techno.”

Tommy nods slowly, and takes a step back. He is not risking this with Wilbur, not again. Wilbur can be as soft as he wants with Tommy, that doesn’t mean that Wilbur won’t kick him out a window again.

“Hello, Theseus.”

Tommy’s hand darts to the bat at his side.

Wilbur raises his hands and shakes his head, “I’m not going to hurt you…” he takes a few steps back down the hallway. “Unless you initiate, but I’m doubtful that you’re going to do that.”

He shuffles back.

Floof yaps.

Wilbur pulls a face, and takes a few more steps back. “I’m sorry.” Is what he stammers out, and Tommy doesn’t know if this is more for him, or more for Wilbur. “I… I am so sorry, I know that doesn’t mean jackshit but… I really am sorry. There’s a reason. I- there's a reason... but, I- it's not a good reason. I'm sorry, for what it's worth but- yeah."

Tommy nods, and takes a step back.

Wilbur looks at the note on the door. 

Tommy freezes. 

He does not need Wilbur the vigilante hater there.

“I won’t be there,” Wilbur says and takes a few more steps back. He seems about just as nervous as Tommy feels. “Just… stay safe I guess.”

Tommy nods and stumbles back so that he’s basically out the window. Floof yaps at him, and while Tommy doesn’t want to kick Floof, he does want Floof to shut the fuck up before… Phil shows up on something.

Wilbur nods slowly, and steps forward. He grabs onto the door handle and basically flings the door closed.

Tommy stands there for a moment longer than he needs to, he adjusts his goggles and mask. Grabbing on to the side of the door, Floof yaps at him and Tommy’s already halfway out the window.

He hangs onto the windowsill for a bit, grappling hook at the ready as he relaxes. He gets the window closed with a soft click and relaxes before firing the grappling hook to the building next to him.

That’s how at 10pm (okay… maybe slightly later) he’s dragging himself back up the tower. Because he’s a dramatic fuckhead who wanted to meet Techno on top of a roof, because nothing bad has ever happened on a roof.

Nope.

Never,

Nothing bad has happened on a roof to Tommy, especially when heroes are involved.

Panting, he manages to haul himself onto the slightly curved, but still flat side of the building. For what it’s worth, this is the roof, Tommy lays on the ground, trying to catch his breath desperately.

“You’re late,” the ever-so familiar voice of Techno deadpans. “Ten minutes late, can you please warn me if you’re going to leave an ominous note and then be late.”

Tommy gives a thumbs up, still from laying down and Techno huffs. 

“In my defence,” Tommy signs, “There was a mugging I had to attend to and that went a lot longer than I thought it would.”

Techno snorts and rolls his eyes. He’s not wearing his pig-skull, he’s holding it instead. While he’s wearing the red cape that’s basically become most of his brand, it doesn’t look like it’s fastened on very well.

“So,” Techno drawls and sits down.

Tommy narrows his eyes from under the mask.

“You said you found information?”

With a nod, Tommy fumbles around in his pocket and finds the piece of paper from earlier. “My guy found this address.”

Techno snatches the piece of paper and looks at it for a long moment. “Isn’t that one of Schlatt’s warehouses?”

Tommy shrugs. Who the fuck is Schlatt?

“Who?”

“Some business man,” Techno signs back, “He’s slightly sketchy… with tax evasion and stuff.” Techno sighs this time, “I did not think he’d be involved in this.”

“Maybe he’s not?”

Techno shrugs, looking at the piece of paper again. “Did you find anything else?”

“Two names.” Tommy signs and Techno raises an eyebrow for him to continue. “Squid and Fruit.”

He nods, Techno nods and sighs, “Right. So I’m guessing we’re going there. What can I expect?”

“You know enough sign?” Tommy looks at Techno, he does not want to be rambling in sign if Techno can’t even understand it.

Techno gives a nod.

“So. Normally there are lots of guards, so sneaking in is the best way. When we’re in rooms go back to back, people jump out of the darkness. Destroy any files we find…” Tommy pauses and looks at Techno.

Techno nods.

“Basically listen to me, and we should be good. It may be empty. It may not.” Tommy suppresses a sigh and looks at Techno. “You got that?”

“Yes,” Techno signs back and stands up, moving so that his bones pop and Tommy winces at that. 

Tommy nods and stands up, cracking his neck and Techno pulls a face at that.

He grabs his grappling hooks and smiles under his mask. He gestures out across the city with his grappling hook, hoping that Techno gets the clue that he’s ready for whatever this will be.

Techno looks at Tommy… “I- don’t have a grappling hook.”

Tommy gives him a look. 

Techno shuffles slightly. “Normally I’m with… Philza, he can fly and Wilbur’s always been pretty good in the air… his coat’s kind of like a hang glider.”

Tommy sighs and gestures at Techno who walks over. Techno seems to get the clue and grabs onto Tommy. It’s a slightly awkward hug situation, Tommy shakes out his arms and legs.

Holding the grappling hook, they zoom across the sky.

The buildings become a blur, and Tommy uses small sparks of red to keep them on course. Techno doesn’t make a noise the entire way, and if it wasn’t for the added weight, Tommy would think he’s dead.

Techno eventually makes a noise, but over the wind it doesn’t sound like much. He makes another noise and Tommy actually attempts to hear him this time. “It’s there!” Techno yells and waves a hand wildly at the ground.

He shrieks and grabs Tommy again.

Tommy takes a deep breath and looks at Techno.

Then they start falling.

Techno starts screeching like a banshee as they plummet towards the ground. Although the wind takes most of the frantic screaming and Tommy grins, suppressing laughter as they fall.

At the last second, when Techno is gripping onto Tommy for dear life, and more than ready to twist them so that Tommy hits the ground first. He throws out his hand, and a shower of red sparks explode around them.

Tommy times it so he sends a burst of red magic at the ground and they bounce up in the air again. But much lower than what they were… a trick taught to him by Slimecicle, the man himself.

They bounce for a bit and Techno is breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

Eventually they stop bouncing and Tommy lets go of Techno, who is hunched over and half-leaning against a wall. Techno pants, before looking up at Tommy. “Are you fucking crazy?”

Tommy nods.

Techno mutters under his breath and leans back against the wall. “We could’ve died.”

“We didn’t.” Tommy signs back with a grin under the mask. 

Techno catches his breath, leaning against the wall and probably glaring at Tommy. His earpiece crackles, and Tubbo’s breathing (which is way too loud) bursts into his ear, somehow Tommy doesn’t squeal (and give away his identity) instead he just jumps.

“Reporting for duty!” Tubbo yells into his ear and Tommy flinches. “Wait I’ll turn myself down…” he says and there’s the noise of a keyboard clattering on the other end. “That should be better.” He says much quieter.

Tommy nods, even though Tubbo can’t see him. “I’ll be doing my homework,” Tubbo mutters, “Might not be paying much attention. Good luck, hit the panic button if you need it and get the cops there.”

He gets the same spiel everytime, Tommy knows the drill. 

Tapping his fingers against the wall, Techno shoots up and looks at him. Gesturing over his shoulder they start towards the door.

“Through the door?” Techno asks, voice unsure. “Is that the best idea?”

Tommy shakes his head and points up. Piping litters the wall all the way up to the roof, assuming that they can find a way in up there, that’s what they’re going to do. (If they can’t then Tommy will break a window or something.)

Putting his hands on the pipes he starts to clamber up. It’s a practiced skill, but for someone who’s been practicing since before he could walk properly. He’s up on the roof quickly, and Techno is beside him.

Well that was quick.

“You’re quick.” Tommy signs and Techno makes a laughing noise from under the pig mask.

“I grew up here.” Techno signs back, like it explains everything and… it kinda does. 

The roof is flat, and Tommy walks around the edges, before seeing a huge hole in the building. It’s about the size of a dumpster and… he’s curious about it, he glances at Techno.

He’s also staring at the dumpster sized hole.

Techno makes a noise. “That’s where that dumpster went!”

Tommy looks at him.

“Phil threw a dumpster last time a villain attacked,” Techno mutters and peers into it. “That’s where it went. We looked for it… for a while.”

“Well, that’s our way in.” Tommy signs and peers over. There’s a couple of beams holding up the roof, they slip in across those and walk across them to find what they need. 

Notice how many guards there are. Take them out. See what there is, and find out the next steps from there. Tommy grabs Techno and points at the beams that criss-cross across the roof. 

Techno seems to nod.

Tommy responds by grabbing onto his arm and swinging into the building, for a moment he adjusts to the light and blinks behind his goggles. 

Scanning for anything he waits, Techno’s next to him, gripping onto the bar above and sighing, slightly less balanced than Tommy and Tommy looks around the room.

It’s an open room, really just a warehouse. With boxes piled up around them, boxes that Tommy doesn’t trust for some reason. There are cages piled up in the corner of the room, which are standing there proudly.

Tommy stares at the cages. 

Then the blood on the floor around them.

Techno stiffens up next to him, and goes to say something. Tommy shakes his head.

“Why are there cages?”

“We think they’re hiring out fighters.”

Techno somehow freezes more at that, and he takes a deep breath. “Right.” He signs back, before shuffling so that he’s sitting on the beam, feet dangling in the air and swinging back and forth.

Tommy scans again, this place is empty and for the life of him, Tommy can not think of a reason why all the information led here. There’s… nothing here worth looking at, it’s empty.

In a bold and incredibly stupid move, Tommy drops to the ground.

It’s quiet, and Techno makes a noise.

Tommy presses his finger to his lips, although it has to look quite dumb with his mask on. He turns around, pulling out his baseball bat and holding it up, ready to swing. 

The warehouse is quiet, apart from the odd metal creaking around them and the odd noise outside. A car driving past, a motorbike, a siren in the distance, an assortment of noises that weren’t loud enough for Tommy to be concerned.

He walks forwards, holding the bat up and scanning for anything. 

Whipping around a corner he sees… vials. Vials filled with blue, blue… liquid that makes Tommy’s stomach drop and an illogical panic jump through his veins. He takes a deep breath.

For a moment longer he stares.

Glass is on the ground, but there’s still enough of it that it could cause… so much damage to so many people.

“Blue.” Techno says.

Tommy jumps and swings his bat on reflex, Techno takes a step back.

“Why’s there blue here?”

“You know what blue is?”

“I wasn’t born under a rock,” Techno adds, and looks at the vials and the blue shimmering liquid. “This stuff is a death trap.”

Tommy nods, and takes a small step forward. Techno puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. “Leave it.”

“We gotta destroy it,” Tommy signs in return and steps forward.

Techno picks him up and puts him back on the ground. “No,” he snaps, “We’re not even touching that stuff.”

Tommy shifts on his feet, and looks up at Techno. 

Techno looks back down at him, not faltering. “No.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you know what that stuff actually does to you.”

Tommy pushes past Techno and Techno responds by picking him up by the back of the hoodie. He kicks his legs for a moment as Techno holds the back of his hoodie.

If Tommy could, he’d be swearing like crazy right now.

He kicks his legs again, trying to kick Techno but to no avail.

“You done?” Techno asks.

Tommy is not.

He kicks again for a while, until his legs are tired and he misses being on the ground.

Techno puts him back down on the ground.

Tommy turns around to Techno and flips him off. 

Then Tommy lunges for the blue. 

Techno tackles him.

“No way!” Techno says and a box crashes around them. “Are you addicted or something kid?”

“Destroy,” He manages to sign in front of Techno’s face in an attempt to get him away. Techno flinches away for a moment and that’s enough for Tommy to flip Techno over and run to the vials on the boxes.

He picks them up and they shatter against the ground.

Techno makes a pained noise. “You really don’t know what that can do, do you?”

Tommy ignores him, instead crushing the glass under his feet. It crunches and Tommy twists his foot as he does so, while looking at Techno who looks extremely pained. 

For a moment Tommy stares at the blue liquid that’s on the floor… the colour is very nice, it shimmers against the floor and the pale lights that he barely noticed throughout all of this. It’s like water…

He tears his eyes away, and back at Techno.

Techno pinches the bridge of his nose, mask off and in his hand. “I swear… I am going to throw you off a roof.”

“Been there, done that.” Tommy signs and Techno snorts. “By your co-worker.”

Techno snorts again, and looks around. “There’s nothing here… apart from that,” he gestures at the glass on the ground. “That’s not enough to make any arrests.”

Tommy huffs, it’s quiet and the only proper noise he’s made so far. Hopefully that didn’t give Techno any idea, because that would a dumb way to be revealed. Ideally it was some dramatic thing that would be the great ending to a movie.

He looks around… there will be files somewhere, he can feel it. Files with names and dates and ages on them, fires that he’s going to burn to the ground.

Scanning around the room, he sees the crates easily. They’re always this size, slightly smaller and always slightly open from someone meddling. Tommy didn’t hesitate to throw the crate open.

Papers filled it.

Techno looks amazed. “How?”

Tommy ignores him and reaches into his pocket, he pulls out a match box and sets it alight. He throws it into the crate, and does that for the next one. 

Techno stares at the fire in the same way that Tommy stared at the blue on the ground. His eyes are wide, and lit by the fire that’s burning through the crates too.

“Why?” Techno asks and Tommy resists the urge to complain.

If he had known that Techno was going to ask so many questions. Then he wouldn’t have fucking done anything.

“Governments take advantage of these files,” Tommy signs and Techno doesn’t look too shocked, instead he nods. “Not letting that happen on my watch.”

Techno nods again, and looks around. “Shouldn’t we read the files?”

Tommy stops looking at the fire. 

Then looks back, which is honestly his response. Techno seems to deflate at that, but Tommy ignores it for instead looking at the charred inside of the boxes and the ashes of the papers that were inside.

Techno rolls his eyes, and walks away, footsteps echoing around the warehouse.

It’s oddly quiet.

Tommy freezes. Most warehouses have alarm systems, especially ones that hold important information… and Blue. The most expensive drug on the market… no one in their right mind would just leave it out.

He freezes.

This was too easy.

It’s all been too easy.

Tommy slams his hand against the crate, and Techno doesn’t move.

Techno doesn’t move.

That shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.

Tommy opens his mouth, to say something, to scream, because Techno is scaring him right now.

He’s staring at a part of the warehouse just out of Tommy’s view like it’s the end of his world.

An arrow flies overhead, and lands in the crate next to him. 

Tommy jumps and pulls out his baseball bat.

On top of a pile of crates is a man, he has black straight hair that looks… honestly a bit greasy and unwashed. Tommy’s no style icon, but seriously… washed hair that’s the bare minimum.

He’s holding a bow… (people still used those?) And a quiver of arrows thrown over his back. He smiles down at Tommy.

“Hey kid.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything, instead grabbing his bat and holding it up and ready to swing at whatever the fuck he needs.

The man… although he doesn’t look too old, in his twenties maybe. Maybe about Techno’s age, maybe a bit older. He grins and holds the bow, and Tommy takes a few steps backwards, fumbling for his bat.

“C’mon kid, things aren’t that easy for you… for anyone really. We knew that you were the biggest risk, you got a history of taking down these places. Set up some clues, and now you’re here with a superhero, this could not have worked better.”

Tommy just stares. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Oh yeah, you polite folk like introductions. Nestorio, I’m the person who’s about to kill you or die trying.” He gives a bright smile and Tommy waves back with the same fake cheer. “Cool, now I’m going to shoot at you.”

Oh shit.

Tommy dives behind a crate, which explodes around him as an arrow hits it…

Okay. Those certainly aren’t normal arrows.

He takes a deep breath, before spinning around and balling the energy in his hands. Firing it at Nestorio (what sort of fucking name is that?)

It hits and there’s a cry out as Nestorio tumbles to the ground.

Tommy takes the moment to breathe, before sprinting around the piles of crates stacked in the middle of the warehouse. 

Something makes a noise around him… like metal against metal. 

The back of his brain notices Nestorio, standing up and holding a knife… a knife that shimmers against the low light of the warehouse.

Tommy watches it fly across the room.

And lodges itself in Tommy’s stomach.

Oh. Oh shit.

So… he’s been stabbed in the stomach.

He stares at the knife in a morbid curiosity, it’s not hurting.

There’s a knife in his stomach.

“Huh,” is what Tommy says and looks at it, before looking up.

Techno’s standing there, mask on the ground. Frozen.

His mouth is open, and his eyes are wide.

In front of him is a man… wearing a blue suit, arms out in what Tommy would call a beckoning gesture for a hug.

Techno shakes his head and steps back a little bit. His hands are shaking.

That scares Tommy more than it should.

Tommy summons as much energy as he aims it at the man in the blue suit. He releases it and it fires at the man in the suit.

Tommy grabs Techno who doesn’t quite seem in it at the moment. He hides behind a crate, holding onto Techno’s shirt and looking at him.

His eyes are far away, and he’s shaking. He’s muttering something that Tommy can’t quite make out, but it seems almost pleading.

Fuck.

Tommy glances down at his stomach, yup, the knife is still there. He’s not in pain, but that might not stay that way for a while.

There’s laughter behind them, a low, chuckling laughter that echoes throughout the warehouse and Tommy latches onto Techno, putting an arm around his shoulders as Techno trembles.

Tommy shakes him slightly, Techno recoils in on himself and he makes a noise. It’s a broken noise and so… unsettling coming from him.

“Techno,” Tommy says, voice shaking slightly from disuse. He doesn’t care if he gives himself away, it’s Techno… he won’t care. “Techno, are you there?”

A blank stare.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking dog shit.

What the fuck is he supposed to do?

Techno’s shaking, not responding and apparently not in the present day. There are at least two people trying to kill them and… Tommy has no clue what to do.

He puts both hands on his head. 

Think. He needs to think. There has to be something he can do.

“Theseus!” Nestorio calls out and Tommy hates the way he flinches. “Now, we have a fun little game. You give up Techno, and you can go free… it’s not like he’s going to notice.”

Tommy pauses.

He hates the way he thinks about it.

Techno wouldn’t know… well he would eventually, but not right now. Techno is so out of it that Tommy could just… hand over Techno.

He’d get to go home, and… laugh with Tubbo and Ranboo over a movie which was badly acted and live his best life. Maybe he’d deal with the PR of his own actions and then get a promotion or something.

If Techno was handed over… he could get the knife out of his stomach, the knife that isn’t hurting right now, but it’s going to.

He was stabbed… in the stomach, a pretty vital area.

Techno would know that Theseus handed him over… he wouldn’t know that Tommy handed him over and everything would be fine. Sure, he’d have three heroes with a personal vendetta against him…

Tommy looks at Techno, he’s not shaking anymore, but his eyes are unfocused and he is somewhere completely different…

He wants to go home.

So Tommy shoves Techno out into the open.

Someone makes a noise, and it sounds surprised. Like Tommy wouldn’t shove Techno out into people that seem like his worst fears so that Tommy could get away and get a stomach out of his knife.

Tommy peers over the top of the crate.

Techno has been forced onto his knees, his head’s been yanked back and the man in the blue suit has a pair of scissors which he’s snipping next to Techno’s ear.

Techno doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes aren’t there.

“What the fuck?” Nestorio says, “You sold him out so quickly.”

Tommy nods over the crate, and starts looking around for something that can get him out of this. He has a knife in his stomach (still), he can use that to throw at something. Throw it at Nestorio… distract the suit guy and then send energy at him.

Okay. 

That’ll work.

Then he can leave. Techno can… figure it out.

He’s a hero. Who hasn’t been stabbed in the stomach, he probably has a panic button or something. He’ll figure this one out.

All Tommy has to do is distract them for a moment and book it the fuck out of there.

Tommy takes a deep breath and nods to himself.

There’s a snipping noise, and silence around them.

The braid, that is Techno’s hair, is currently dangling in front of his face.

It’s silent for a long moment.

Tommy’s heart jumps into his throat.

Techno makes a noise that sounds like a sob being strangled out of him.

Okay… Tommy is not leaving Techno to figure this out. Fuck it.

The braid is thrown at the ground and for a long moment Techno just stares at it, a broken expression on his face.

Time to throw the knife. 

The knife in his stomach.

Tommy winces, grabbing the handle of the knife.

He pulls, and throws it in one motion. It clatters behind them, and the man in the blue suit jumps, Nestorio jumps as well, but has an arrow out quicker than Tommy can react.

And the arrow is pointed straight at the back of Techno’s head.

Nestorio’s hands are steady as he points the arrow, not the slightest tremor in them. 

“In what world would that work?” Nestorio says calmly… almost too calmly. Huh. That’s something to work with. “Nice try, Theseus… too bad you both have to die here.”

Tommy does not have to die here.

He will not die here.

Neither will Techno.

They’re both making it out alive.

The stomach wound aches, and Tommy ignores the red that’s starting to cover his hands, or that he looks like something dragged straight from the depths of the Earth’s. He feels like it too.

Tommy grits his teeth.

His power is a finicky thing, with lots of possibility. 

He holds his hands up, and gets into a fighting stance.

Energy swirls in his hands, in his blood, he can feel it about to burst, about to just… destroy everything in his path. However, he holds it. That hurts and Tommy makes the noise to prove so.

Then he lets go.

And Nestorio falls to the ground, the ground cracking underneath him.

Tommy takes a deep breath, he shouldn’t be dead. Just a density shift… those aren’t too bad if not done from too high up.

The man in the blue suit stands there, a wide… unsettling grin on his face as he walks forwards. Tommy walks backwards, not even thinking about using his powers and scrambling backwards.

“Ha.” The blue-suit man laughs. “You’re like all the other fuckin’ vigilantes. You complain that you’re not bein’ treated like heroes, but throw each other under the bus like it’s nothin’.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything… he’s not wrong.

“Two heroes… being left behind by two vigilantes who had their own self interests in mind.”

Tommy staggers backwards… where’s his bat? He must’ve dropped it somewhere.

The man in the suit stops, “Go,” he says, “Go and be free… go to fight another day and throw someone else under the bus. Go, otherwise I’m beatin’ the shit out of you.”

Tommy doesn’t move.

The man raises an eyebrow. “Alrigh’ then. Step forward.”

He steps forward. Chin up high, and looks at the man in the suit.

The man grins, forms a fist and… swings.

Pain shoots through Tommy’s nose, tears spring to his eyes and his stomach turns over as he crashes to the ground. Hands on his nose and tucking his head in as he hits the ground with a thump.

A thump that makes his ribs cry out.

Ouch. That’s gonna leave a mark.

Tommy groans, he deserves this. He’s not… mad that it’s happening but… fuck it hurts.

The suited man grabs him by the hair, yanking him upwards and slamming him against the ground. Something cracks and pain shoots through his lungs.

Not again.

He tries his powers.

Nothing, a spark to his side.

Fuck.

He’s picked up again, his hair yanked at. 

This time he scrambles to try get a grip, to try and figure out something.

Instead he’s thrown into the ground again.

Something else cracks and Tommy lets out a strangled scream, muffled by the mask. But still a scream.

He’s bleeding, his ribs… aren’t right, something’s pierced and breathing is like a challenge, an obstacle which he needs to overcome to try and fucking survive.

Part of his brain knows he deserves this, he was going to leave Techno… he’s hurt so many people. The other, desperate part of his brain claws for survival, the part he’s never been quite able to silence. Even when he was a child.

He’s picked up again, by the hair again and slammed against a wall.

He coughs, it’s a wet cough and there’s blood droplets on the inside of his mask. He can feel it.

“Fuck,” Tommy manages.

The man in the suit smiles, he yanks Tommy up off the ground and Tommy almost screams at the movement.

He laughs… the suit man with a knife in his hand… when did that get there? And plunges it into Tommy’s stomach. Tommy cries out.

“So long Theseus, you flew too close to the sun.”

“Wrong… fuckin’... myth,” Tommy grits out, and he’s dropped against the wall.

Tommy wheezes, as he’s slammed against the ground, his previous injuries creak at the contact.

He coughs, his face mask soaks with blood and he tries his hardest not to take it off.

His hands instinctively clutch at his stomach and he freezes when he finds himself soaked in blood.

Suddenly his injuries seem so much more painful and he has trouble breathing with the blood pooling in his mouth.

He brings his mask down as he doubles over, coughing and gagging as blood spills out and he lets out a scream at the change of position.

He breathes heavily, hands trembling in front of him, not knowing which wound he should hold onto first.

It hurts, it hurts so much more than when he fell off that fucking building.

He's going to die.

He sobs, giving himself a hug as he looks up for Techno. Where was he?

"Techno-" he coughs again, a sob forcing its way out of him as more blood pools around in his mouth.

He tries to stand, falling right back to the ground with a painful yell. 

Instead, he tries crawling closer to the man, reaching a hand out "Techno- Techno, please! Please! Help, help me!" he sobs, his hand falling as he loses energy.

"I don't wanna die!" he cries out.

A bright red appears in the corner of his eyes, his eyes begging for him to just succumb to unconsciousness.

His vision starts to tilt and he can see two people in front of him, their faces are blurred out but he knows exactly who they are.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, eyes locked on the two figures "Please, I'm so sorry-" he puts his head on the floor to avoid looking at them "Don't hurt me, please, I'm sorry!"

He's going to die.

He's going to die.

He retches, his stomach spamming in an attempt to empty itself, the sight of his parents making him sick. The way it always has… and maybe always will.

"I need- I need Techno- I need to help- To help?" his mind starts to darken as confusion clouds his mind, the figures of his parents speaking in mumbles he can't quite hear.

Why are they here? They're supposed to be dead. They're dead.

Like he'll be soon.

Dead, dead, dead dead dead dead dead dead dead.

He cries out, anguish in his voice when he looks up to a dark room and Techno not there anymore.

He sobs, hugging himself once again.

He's alone.

He's going to die alone.

He doesn't wanna die.

“Techno!” He screams, his voice aching, and tearing itself up in a way that makes any noise, any word ache like agony. Tears jump to his eyes. “Techno!” He screams again, his voice breaking.

Nothing.

Please, please, he doesn’t want to die alone. Not alone. Not alone, anything but alone. Not again. 

He’s so tired of being alone.

Raising his hand, he takes a deep breath that’s like glass being forced down his throat and cutting at his vocal chords and windpipe.

Not alone.

Please… just… not alone.

“Techno!” He shrieks, “Please!”

Silence.

He sighs, leaning back into the dirty concrete.

One of the blurry faces… his parents look over him, and Tommy imagines their expressions are filled with disgust. “You can rest now,” a soft voice chimes, “Rest now Tommy, you’ve earned it.”

Not alone.

He can’t die alone.

Please.

He doesn’t want to die, please… please, please, please.

He doesn’t want to die.

He’s so tired.

Not alone. 

He doesn’t want to die.

Please.

He can’t sleep, he’ll never wake up if he sleeps… 

More red flashes around him, that’s him, he knows that’s him.

He closes his eyes.

He’s tired after all.

Chapter Text

Techno rolls his eyes at Theseus, watching him look at the ashes of previously existing files before turning and walking around the warehouse.

The warehouse is exactly what he thinks it was going to be. Empty, with boxes scattering the floor and Theseus who is around… 

The first clue that pointed out that something was wrong were the footprints on the floor, the dust covered floor with two different pairs of footprints, one of them very obviously made by dress shoes, the other ones he couldn’t quite tell.

He follows them with his eyes watching as they cut off by a pile of crates, there are no more footprints around.

He narrows his eyes at the footsteps, they looked fairly recent, not yet covered by another layer of dust, they are either from today or from yesterday. He hopes it’s the latter.

The second clue is the jacket on top of the crates the footprints cut off by, a black suit jacket laid spread out on the crate, leaving the wood below it wet. Whoever the owner of it was had most likely left it there to dry after the rain.

Techno tenses at the sight of it, it was visibly damp and he’s sure no one would ever leave an expensive jacket like this in a warehouse to dry.

The third and last clue were the noises around them, the loud sound of cars passing by on a road nearby and the music of a nightclub on the other side of the street being the loudest. But underneath that, he can hear light footsteps with the squeak of an obvious drag, they’re extremely light, almost unnoticeable, the footsteps of someone who knows when and how to stay quiet.

He knows those footsteps.

He freezes and his breath stutters when recognition registers in his brain, shades of blue stained with red flash through his brain as he looks at the opening to another room, where the footsteps are coming from, and he waits.

He doesn’t prepare his weapon, doesn’t change his stance. He just waits with wide eyes and bated breath.

He sees brown, almost black eyes as a man in a blue suit rounds the corner and he can’t look away.

There’s a constant ringing in his ears, similar to when his voices start yelling at the same time, but tenfold. There’s a faint sound from behind him, where someone he thinks he knows stands.

The eyes stare back at him and then they wrinkle when a wide grin spreads across the man’s face. Techno, for the first time in years, wishes he knew what he was planning.

He looks almost exactly the same as he remembers, his blue suit is stained red.

You bled on him again!

That doesn’t make sense. He’s not injured, he hasn’t even gotten more than 10 feet close to the man.

Apologize.

He closes his hands into tight fists, resisting the urge in his body to kneel down and beg for forgiveness. His hands are shaking, he can feel it.

The man takes a step closer to him and Techno flinches.

He doesn’t wanna go back.

This shouldn’t be happening.

They said this wouldn't happen again. 

They promised. 

They lied to him, they have him again and they said that they wouldn't let this happen no matter what. Everything's underwater, blurry, he can't hear anything apart from the sound of his own heart thumping in his chest like a drum. 

Phil promised. 

“Drop the mask,” the man says, voice bright and cheery and Techno’s dropped the mask before his brain can process what’s happening.

The mask clatters against the floor, and Techno doesn’t care.

Do what he says. Don’t get yourself hurt.

He opens his arms, like he wants a hug.

Techno’s brain manages to kick into gear, if only slightly and he stumbles back, shaking his head. 

Not again. Not again.

They promised. They promised that this wouldn’t happen. They said that he was dead.

“No.” Techno says, it’s barely a whisper. He shakes his head again.

Nothing is working, this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be him hanging out with Theseus and having suspicions confirmed, rather than… whatever this was. Techno opens his mouth.

He says nothing. His mouth is moving, maybe he is actually saying something, but he can’t hear it. Like there’s cotton in his ears, he can’t think, he can’t move.

It’s him.

Him.

Something explodes in front of him, and there’s rough arms dragging him. He barely notices it.

It’s happening again.

He’s sitting down.

It’s happening again. 

Terror. That's what it is. There’s no fancy words, no flowery language to explain it. Just terror, flooding from his fingertips to his head, from anywhere to everywhere. Terror. Just terror, unfiltered terror.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t not breathe.

Everything’s underwater, he can’t hear, he can’t… what’s happening?

There's talking.

His ears are ringing but his vision is sharper than ever. He can see everything clearly. 

The blood staining the walls, the monstrous bodies laying motionless, dead on the floor, the cages filled with scratches. 

It's so familiar… 

They said this wouldn’t happen again, and that he’d never be here again.

He wants to sob.

Why is he here again? 

He hears something hit metal and suddenly he's on his knees on the floor, unable to stand up, his leg isn't moving. 

His leg is jammed, he knows that. He won’t be able to run.

Something pulls at his hair and he freezes, then starts shaking his head frantically, muttering to himself. 

His head is held in a strong grip, keeping it still. 

Why is this so familiar? 

His braid is pulled back. 

Is he angry? 

"Your hair is your pride." he holds his freshly cut hair in front of him, keeping his head still so he's forced to look "And this, this is a sign you're mine." 

He's yanked to come face to face with his master's maniac grin "You're nobody, understand? You're weak! This-" his hair is held up again "is a sign of weakness!" 

He's weak. 

Weak, weak, weak, weak, weakweakweak. 

He feels the weight of his braid vanish and he loses balance, now on his hands and knees. 

He sees his braid being tossed in front of him and slowly brings a shaky hand up, feeling where it used to be, only to find uneven short hair and loose strands. 

No. 

Please no. 

No no no no no no no. 

He feels the familiar prick of a needle on the back of his neck but it was so brief it was like it never happened.

A sob leaves his body and he puts his head on the floor to ask his master for forgiveness. 

Phil and Wilbur promised this wouldn't happen again. 

They promised. 

So why is this happening? 

He's not a weapon. 

He's not some creature used to do experiments with mutation. 

But why does it feel like he is?

Techno doesn’t manage to do any of those things, instead he shakes his head and doesn’t even bother to wipe away the tears.

Again. It’s happened again.

And he was lied to.

Vaguely he notices an arrow being pressed to the back of his skull, and he doesn’t even flinch. It’s just Nestor… Nestor isn’t going to hurt him.

Right?

There’s the noise of concrete smashing, a bright red flash of light. And Nestor groaning next to him.

There’s more noises, and Techno doesn’t process them. He knows that there are noises, and that’s all. Not what they are.

"Hey," a voice says, he knows that voice... It's the voice that helped him train and the voice that hid with him when they stole bread, or refused to fight. "It's alright. I'm sorry-"

His mouth moves without his permission “You said it’d be okay…” his voice sounds small, childish, scratchy “You said they wouldn’t hurt me this time.” he sobs, little voice wobbling as he avoids looking at Nestor.

“Hey, c’mon, look at me. You know it’s okay to.”

Techno looks up, and the childish part of him shoves Nestor away and he scrambles back slightly. “Go away-”

“C’mon bud, look.” he takes something out from inside the jacket he always wore. “I got you some bread.” he holds it out for Techno to take.

Techno shrinks onto himself, hesitant to take the food basically being served to him on a silver platter. Only when his stomach growls loudly does he, albeit reluctantly, take it.

He takes pieces from the bread slowly, trying to savour the only food he’s had in days. He almost shoves the whole thing in his mouth from how good it tastes, it’s just stale bread but he almost feels himself crying over it.

Still, not even the food can lighten up the mood as he purposely looks away from Nestor, almost pouting at the continuous sting on his cheek and hands.

He eats in silence while Nestor looks around, waiting for Techno to start up a conversation.

Nestor finally speaks up after deciding Techno wouldn’t do it, “I’m sorry he hit you.”

Techno grips his food harder, the droplets of blood on his hands staining it “You said he wouldn’t…”

“I know I did, I’m sorry, I was wrong.” Techno sees Nestor looking at him from the corner of his eye, he refuses to look at him.

“It’ll be okay, as long as I’m here, I’ll take care of you, I’ll never hurt you.” Nestor smiles at him.

Techno can’t help but to smile back, hope blooming in his chest, “Promise?”

Nestor holds out his pinkie, grinning “Of course!” they interlock pinkies “I wouldn’t dream of it, I promise.”

The warmth in his chest grows and he can’t help but grin back, then, from somewhere in front of him he hears muffled voices yelling out.

It’s faint, almost as if it isn’t there. He looks up at Nestor, he doesn’t seem to have noticed.

The man lets go of his pinkie, still smiling as he takes off his jacket.

The screaming is still there and Techno finds it hard to ignore “Do you hear that?”

“Hm?”

“Screaming.”

“Screaming?” he looks up in silence, eyebrows furrowed in concentration “I don’t hear anything, we’re far from the arena so it’s quite literally impossible that it’d be coming from there.”

Techno tenses, barely acknowledging Nestor’s words as the screaming gets louder and clearer, it sounds like a child’s voice, screaming from pain, the voice is familiar but he’s not sure he’s ever heard it.

“Techno!”

His eyes widened at that, chest heavy with emotion.

Tommy?

His surroundings seem to melt around him and he’s back to the warehouse, kneeling on the floor with a sharp pressure on the back of his head.

He tries to look up at where he knows Tommy is, his arms barely holding him up. The object at the back of his head presses harder.

“You don’t wanna save him, Tech.” Techno tenses at the nickname “He wants to leave you here, he wants you to die.”

No, Tommy wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t just throw him into a cage of lions to die.

“He’s paying for it now, he tried to hurt you.” Nestor adds.

Techno tries to move again, the pressure gets stronger once again, digging into his skull in a painful manner.

“I’m just protecting you, I won’t hurt you, but he will.” Techno’s not sure if he’s referring to Tommy or the ringmaster “Just come with us, I missed you, Tech. I promise you’ll be safe with us.”

Will he? Nestor had never been anything but kind to him, sure he got a bit rough with training but that was so he didn’t get hurt during fights.

He considers it for a second, the cogs in his head turning with the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“We’re like brothers, Tech. Have I ever lied to you?”

Techno’s posture hardens and he clenches his jaw, Anger coursing through his body like poison.

Yes, yes he had.

“Techno!” Tommy’s shrieks bring his attention back “Please!” he sobs.

He moves quickly, bringing an arm up behind his head and snapping the arrow pointed at him in half, he feels Nestorio stumble away from him with a gasp, he ignores it in favor of trying to stand up.

When he does, he almost immediately falls back, right, jammed leg.

He curses to himself, he doesn’t have time for this. He uses both hands to move the leg into a position where it at least works and stands back up, stumbling hurriedly towards Tommy. 

He holds Tommy’s face in his hands, his eyes are barely open and he looks like he’s on the brink of unconsciousness.

He examines Tommy’s state, not moving him around in fear of any major injuries.

There’s a pool of blood on the floor and his nose and mouth are bleeding, his breathing is unsteady and raspy.