Chapter Text
August 30th, 10:01
The news droned on from a TV mounted a few feet away, but Tommy barely paid attention. His fingers tapped absently against the coffee cup in his hands, his gaze drifting to the towering doors of the lobby. He was sitting there in his hero costume, but despite the familiar gear, he felt entirely out of place in what was supposed to be his own workplace.
The Hero Tower lobby was sterile, polished to a clinical shine. The marble floors gleamed under the fluorescent lights, reflecting back a distorted image of anyone who looked down. The walls were coated in an unnaturally pristine quartz, a kind of mask that, to Tommy, seemed to hide the real mess underneath—something that no one else but HIM could point out. (The irony would never be lost on him. He laughed bitterly to himself, Prime what was he doing?!)
The chairs dug stiffly into his back, as rigid and uncomfortable as everything else about this place. (He needs to stop.) Even the air felt wrong—sharp, clean, like it demanded perfection. Tommy felt the weight of it, like the Tower was silently telling him to sit straighter, act the part, be the hero. But today, he didn’t think he had the energy to keep up with that.
He hadn’t really slept, not more than a couple of hours if that. Not that it mattered. Sleep never chased away the gnawing unease that settled in his gut these days. But no, he refuses the idea that he might be worried about today. Hell no, Tommy doesn't worry. He's not anxious, he's just not feeling like today will be the best day of his life. He's a goddamn hero. He was supposed to be better than stupid emotions like that.
Still, every time the TV behind him mentioned his name, his body tensed. Channel 7 had been running stories about him for days now, and every time he heard it, that same question lingered at the back of his mind: What are they saying this time? Because the consequences of his actions, or reactions, have been diversely different.
He's starting to think he won't return to be a hero after thirty days. Because even if some support him, it almost all negatively effects the Tower and the Association.
But it wasn’t just the usual news channel either. Normally, the Hero Tower ran Channel 5, the one more aligned with the association’s politics. But they’d switched to Channel 7 recently—ever since that interview four days ago. The one where Tommy had messed up, where Dream had pulled him into a hallway afterward and ripped into him with more intensity than usual. The whole thing was meant to be an apology, a PR move. The team behind it had been fired soon afterward.
Tommy sighed, glancing up at the screen. A different man sat in the usual anchor’s chair, looking nervous.
…That was strange. The woman who had always been the face of Channel 7 wasn’t there. Tommy stalled a moment, staring at confusion before the pieces fit together. She's probably sick. They wouldn't replace the woman who has been the face of 7 for years. It didn’t really matter, but the change unsettled him for a moment.
So he turned his attention back to the doors of the lobby, but the feeling of dread stayed, simmering just beneath the surface, turning slowly into frustration. He couldn’t shake the thought that it was all his fault. If he was better, none of this would’ve happened. The team wouldn’t have been fired. He wouldn’t be sitting here, waiting, feeling isolated in a place he was supposed to belong. What's the point of being trained if he's gonna fuck up anyway. He's lucky they hadn't suspended him for that interview.
It's 10:30 when he's finally picked up. Jack Manifold, the bastard in person, came sauntering in with a smug look in his eyes; like he won some game.
Jack Manifold and Tommy were in the same Hero Training program years ago, Jack being caught at seventeen, robbing a gas station with superpowers. His punishment was either Pandora or Hero, and when going through the program, he was told he was gonna be a sidekick.
Tommy would feel bad for the fella, if it weren't for the fact that the man was such a pain in his ass. His ego clashed with Tommy’s.
The blond hasn't seen that bald fucker in months, and he must be ecstatic that Tommy was finally dragged down to his level. Tommy had the basic instinct or urge to toss the hot coffee that was in that holder in his face, but relented and just held the holder tighter.
“Ayup.” He gets up from his seat being head to head with Jack, who smirks at him.
“You know, they’re still talking about that interview. Channel 7. Front page shit.”
Tommy bristled, his fingers tightening around the coffee holder. “Yeah? Good for them. Bet they’ve got nothing else going on since you’ve been off the radar, right?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, but the smirk didn’t falter. “Say what you want, but at least I didn’t manage to piss off every sponsor we have in five minutes.”
God damn sponsors. It's not like he tried to start a fire and ruin everything. It's not like he tried to fuck up that interview. Jack was an idiot.
Tommy’s jaw clenched. “Kill yourself.” Tommy responds, his mask almost hiding the look of pure annoyance. There's a tone of joking though, that he knows Jack picked up on.
“I didn't fucking mean it!” Tommy screeched as Manifold almost swerved into a lane with irresponsible speeds.
The man just laughed loudly, the car skidded around a corner, tires screeching in protest as Jack jerked the wheel sharply. Tommy’s stomach lurched, his hand flying to the door handle, knuckles turning white as he held on for dear life. How could Jack get away with driving like this? Must be at least ten over the limit and driving in a populated area— Tommy’s stomach lurched, his hand flying to the door handle, knuckles turning white as he held on for dear life. The city blurred by outside the window, buildings blending into a dizzying mess of glass and concrete. “Prime, Jack!” Tommy shouted over the roar of the engine.
“What? We’re fine!” Jack cackled, swerving around a slow-moving car like he was playing a video game, not navigating through downtown traffic.
Tommy’s heart hammered in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears. He was supposed to be a hero, right? So why did every minute with Jack feel like he was a second away from death?
Eventually, after going into a curb and almost hitting a pole, the pair get to the Captain's office. Tommy didn't recognize it as an office for a second. A warmly lit cafe that sat humbly in-between an antique shop and a retail store— he thought that the imbecile that drove him had a concussion during the hurricane of a drive. How could this be an office? It's too homely.
Maybe it was just a front, he reasoned; but once he took a step inside he was just as confused as before.
It was warm. The sun outside casted down onto the tables, overcasting customers and workers alike. The cafe was a lot bigger than Tommy thought too, reaching far back, being capable of holding all its occupants.
The machines behind the counter added to the symphony of noise, a continuous hum among soft speech. A base under the counter contains dozens of pastries, a light illuminating the products below.
And in front of it all, was Puffy. Out of costume, she had a red button up and an black apron with a pen or two. She leaned against a counter talking to a customer who seemed to be just as content as Puffy looked.
The cafe contrasted so differently to the Hero Tower that it felt like a sin to be there. And suddenly, the coffee cup holder that still was in his hands made him feel even more like an idiot, even more in the wrong.
So when Manifold brashly made his entrance, alarming Puffy that her sidekick was back, Tommy wanted nothing more than to perish. Puffy smiled though, handed a customer their drink and beckoned the pair over.
Manifold, seemingly comfortable here, continued on past her and into the backroom, leaving Tommy alone in front of the counter.
He's seen and heard of Puffy before, Tommy isn't scared. But he feels like an idiot and he doesn't understand where the office is. Surely, this isn't the office, was it?
Puffy, the brilliant empath that she was, felt his confusion and embarrassment, and gave him a sympathetic smile. And before he could resent that look, she was already talking to him.
“Hey kiddo, how are you holding up?” Her voice held a tone that screamed pity and Tommy was about to retort before she noticed the coffee cup holder that stayed motionless in his hands. Eyes visible drawn— It's a profound moment of silence.
“Promoting the enemy?” She quickly breaks the silence. The coffee was from a more famously known cafe, a block or two away from the tower. They were known for having a bunch of cafes and killing other businesses. Tommy only bought this because he felt that the heroes might hate him less if he brought a peace offering.
How can life be so sour when it comes to his share of luck.
“Brought it for you to burn.” He mutters offhandedly, hoping that he hasn't accidentally offended his boss already.
She looks surprised for a moment, but a smile breaks out again and for a second, he thinks this might not be horrible.
Tommy is pretty much immediately put to work by Puffy. Whisked away to the backroom first, and unexpectedly it's how he originally thought the office would look like. There were desks and chairs, a door at the back with Puffy’s name. Split from that room briefly had a fridge and stove, some counters and some fancy looking baking stuff.
Puffy brought him back there, handed Tommy a cloth bag that had a uniform and black shoes on.
“As a sidekick, you won't be doing nearly as much work as before. Working at the cafe, I found, can be a good way to decompress.” Puffy told him when Tommy had given her a blank, yet confused stare.
Tommy took his hero costume off, and the new uniform on. The soft fabric compared to the feeling of his costume was foreign, it was supposed to feel good but all it tried to do was bring his guard down. He's better than that, surely.
Tommy was then brought to the front counter to watch at first. Puffy took care of the customers and made coffees with ease, and on downtime taught Tommy the proper ways to fix the coffee machines and how to operate them. She showed him the broom closet for the kitchen and the other one for the dining room. She shows him a lot, and the entire time he wonders when it's gonna switch over to something hero related. This couldn't be all.
It's silly. He was quite literally told that he wasn't gonna do that until much later, but he wasn't getting paid to be a barista. He was being paid to be a hero, and he couldn't help but feel embarrassed. He couldn't imagine how Dream would berate Tommy if he saw this.
Eventually, Jack leaves without Tommy knowing. At one point Tommy was whipping down the counters with a rag, and when he went to go get more clean hand towels, he came across a backroom without a sidekick. He was sure that Jack was doing paperwork back there.
Didn't matter that much realistically. It wasn't long from that point when Puffy had him leading more. It had been two hours of watching patiently, and Tommy would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little excited about making a cold coffee and getting to use the whipped cream. Even if he still felt worlds away.
It was around 1 now, for not doing that much work, he feels exhausted. He's been eyeing the door for a bit now, a leaking feel of paranoia eating at him. But with the customers that had been coming less and less, the cafe's open hours were slowly coming to an end. And Tommy would feel more relieved, hopefully.
That's when the two of them entered the cafe. Two teenagers, one towering the other while the other had insect wings. Being here for a few hours already, teenagers were the most common customers they've had, these two shouldn't be anything more than the one's before; but sometimes felt off about them.
And in this environment, it urks Tommy. Like that blurry feeling of the bartender from nights and night ago. (He's since showered through the computer, and he hadn't remembered his name. When he went back to the bar later, he again couldn't come up with much. He's terrified what this might bring up, and even more horrified to get Dream involved, so Tommy is hoping now that it was just a bad Dream.)
He isn't sure why it feels the same, but if Tommy wasn't on guard before, he definitely was now. Being a hybrid was rare, maybe it was that, Tommy thought— but it was the way they stood next to each other. It was the way their presence spoke to him.
He continued to stare, but stumbled a bit when he caught himself doing just that. “Ah, sorry about that. What can I get you today?” Tommy asked awkwardly, yet quiet. He could feel Puffy's eyes behind him.
The one with the bee wings looked up at the menu that was drilled into the wall above Tommy, before stating his God awful order of a French Vanilla coffee with ten shots of espresso. He looked back at Puffy who shrugged.
The taller one got a Caramel frappuccino, being the first order since he got to take orders to get whip cream. He compresses the urge to be excited about it and asks for the pairs name's.
Tommy ran the orders through and Puffy help him make the coffee's. Having a silent blast with the whip cream, he and Puffy gets the order done fast, like they have the last few customers. Tommy calls out the bizarre names, that must have been fake, and they leave pretty quickly.
Tommy stares at them from the massive window as they walk down the street and away from the cafe. Tommy from behind the counter stands still as Puffy mentioned something about counting cash. His mind though, was elsewhere, drifting off to think of that one nightmare from nights before.