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Tommy didn’t really know where he was, but he did know it wasn’t where he should be. It wasn’t like that was anything new, he was always somewhere sketchy these days, but this time was especially concerning considering the orange uniformed full grown men lining the yard fence of the prison Tommy was supposed to live in.
“Uh, I think there’s been a mistake,” Tommy said, unsure as he eyed the line of men significantly bigger, stronger, and generally scarier men staring at Tommy. “I’m fifteen, I should be headed to juvie,” he chuckled nervously, shuffling backwards.
The security guard watching him looked unimpressed, “Orders are orders, kid, don’t make me drag you in there.”
Tommy licked his lips as he looked at the facility before him and the steadily growing crowd, “This has got to be illegal, right? I have to be eighteen to be there, don’t I? Look, everybody makes mistakes,” his laugh didn’t sound quite right as he made eye contact with a man of massive proportions through the chainlink, “I won’t say anything about you getting erm, lost, let’s just go now,” he moved to step back into the transport van, but the guard grabbed his shoulder, firmly, but not roughly.
“You’re here for a reason, no one made a mistake,” the guard said flatly, “So get moving.” Tommy couldn’t even fight it as he was ushered through the gates towards the concrete monolith of a prison. Oh he was so fucked.
-
Tommy had a cell mate, apparently. At first he had been excited, thrilled especially that said cellmate was a kid like him, but then they got talking and Tommy gradually became more and more concerned.
“So what are you in for?” the kid, Purpled, he wanted to be called that for some fucking reason and who was Tommy to say no to his cellmate? That didn’t mean Tommy didn’t make a face when Purpled introduced himself as such. It was weird name.
“Grand theft auto,” Tommy sighed, “And some other stuff.” He sat on his bunk, watching Purpled, trying to gauge if the kid was a threat or not. “You?”
“Nothing exciting,” Purpled shrugged, “I think my sentencing called it first degree murder.” He picked something out from under his nails as if the statement didn’t really mean much.
“Oh,” Tommy said awkwardly. Was he in danger? It felt like he was in danger.
“Grand theft auto at least sounds cool,” Purpled said, flopping back on his own bunk, “What did you do?”
“Uh,” Tommy was still recovering from the whole murder thing, but he managed to somewhat keep up with the conversation, “Stole a couple cars and did some street racing for bets.”
“You a good driver?” Purpled seemed interested.
Tommy shrugged, “Good enough. My brother turned me in.”
“What a bitch,” Purpled sneered, “I got sloppy, myself.”
Tommy forced something of a smile, glad that the conversation hadn’t settled on Dream, but not quite sure he wanted to talk about Purpled’s murders. “Damn,” he tried.
“I know, right! And then they wouldn’t even let me go to juvie! Said I was dangerous or some shit! You stab one man thirty eight times and they don’t listen to a word you have to say. Anyways, why’d they send you to big-boy prison?” Purpled chewed a cuticle. "Grand theft auto isn't that bad."
Tommy shrugged, “I think it was a mistake, I didn’t hurt anybody or anything-” He broke off, but Purpled didn’t seem offended, “Uh, but yeah, it doesn’t really make sense.”
“You should ask the warden to get you moved then,” Purpled said, “You’re too innocent for this place anyways.”
Tommy didn’t have to be told twice, though he wasn't thrilled about being called innocent, “How do you do that?”
“Ask around,” Purpled shrugged, “Maybe submit a complaint? I dunno.”
Tommy’s first night in ‘big-boy prison’ as Purpled had called it wasn’t all that restful with his unease about his cellmate and his plans for how to get moved to juvie. Sure, his sentence was longer than the two years he would be there anyways, but that didn’t mean that he shouldn’t enjoy the perks of being a minor while he could.
-
Apparently Tommy had a three month waiting period before his ‘petition’ would be addressed or some shit, and the guard hadn’t liked Tommy’s complaining about the wait time. Tommy rubbed his smarting cheek. That had to be against the law or something, hitting a prisoner, but then again, he didn’t think he would be taken all that seriously and he preferred if they focused on moving him as opposed to shitty prison guards. Tommy knew how it worked with delinquents and abuse. He wouldn’t be believed until there was far too much evidence suggesting otherwise. Besides, Dream had hit harder anyways, so Tommy just went to yard time like he had been told.
Purpled was playing basketball and Tommy was shit at that, not to mention he didn’t exactly feel brave enough to really throw himself into a game, so he instead scanned the yard for someone hopefully less likely to stab a man thirty eight times, and he smiled to himself when he saw his target.
An old man sat on a bench across the yard, an area clear of prisoners around him. His face was tipped back and he seemed to just be enjoying the sun. Tommy carefully edged towards the man, knowing he was being watched by the other prisoners, but he had a goal and no one had any reason to fuck with him yet, so he was safe for the most part. When he got closer to the man he realized that the man wasn’t really old, more just middle aged, if that, he just had a peaceful sort of look to him. Tommy settled on the bench beside him.
“‘Sup, big man!” Tommy said brightly.
The man lifted his head slowly, opening his eyes to blink at Tommy, “Well hello there.”
Tommy grinned widely, “Ayup.”
The man looked at the empty space around himself, as if puzzled why someone had brother to approach him before smiling slowly at Tommy, “What brings you here, mate?”
“Well I’m shit at basketball for one,” Tommy smirked, “And you looked in need of company.”
The man’s smile grew slightly, “What's your name?”
“Tommy,” Tommy held out a hand to shake and the man accepted it, “You?”
“You can call me Phil,” The man said slowly, “You look a little young to be here.”
“I’m trying to get moved to juvie,” Tommy said conspiratorially, “but you know how it is, democracy and shit.” He waved a hand dismissively.
“Bureaucracy,” Phil corrected, “Yes, I understand. What did you do to get in here at all?”
Tommy grinned sheepishly, “Nothing much, stole a couple cars, did some racing.”
“Come on,” Phil chuckled, “At least give me a good story if you’re going to sit here.”
So, with a wide grin, Tommy obliged, “There I was-”
-
“How do you know Philza?” Purpled asked warily at dinner.
Tommy blinked in surprise, “Who?” He shoveled a spoonful of brownish-green peas in his mouth, hoping that if he ate them fast enough their taste wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t work.
“The man you sat with in the yard,” Purpled said slowly, “Philza.”
“Oh, you mean Phil?” Tommy blinked, “I just met him, he looked lonely, all by himself, and I didn’t want to play basketball.”
Purpled paled just slightly, “Tommy, if someone doesn't have anyone around them, it’s for a reason. It means they’re dangerous .”
“You stabbed a man thirty eight times and have plenty of friends,” Tommy pointed out, sure that Purpled’s logic was faulty, “Phil’s actually really nice.”
Purpled eyed Tommy like he was insane, “He’s done a lot worse than stab someone, Tommy, don’t talk to him anymore. He’s not someone you should draw the eye of.”
Tommy frowned at his shitty prison meal, rubbing his cheek in thought before a slight twinge of pain from the slap earlier reminded him not to, “You sure?” he asked, “What did he do?”
“Don’t worry about it, just don’t get close to him again,” Purpled said firmly.
Tommy glared and shoved another foul spoonful of peas into his mouth.
-
“Any updates on my petition?” Tommy asked the prison guard.
The man turned his acne-pitted face in Tommy’s direction and immediately looked enraged, it had to be a new record for someone to hate Tommy after only one meeting, “No, I told you it’d take a couple months.”
Tommy grinned, “I know, just thought I’d ask,” he shuffled backwards a bit, sensing anger from the guard.
The guard glared.
Tommy ended up with another slap, but he didn’t really mind, the guard had a shit arm.
-
It was yard time again. For the past couple days Tommy had avoided Phil the way that Purpled had said to, but at this point he was tired of hiding in the corners of the yard and hoping none of the bigger guys took note of him, though even that was preferable to playing basketball. With his luck he’d get the shit beat out of him for making his team lose. As he stared into space, internally bemoaning his shitty yard time he unintentionally made eye contact with Phil across the yard.
Tommy cursed himself under his breath as the man cocked his head, gesturing to the seat beside him on that same bench that he always claimed in yard time, never contested despite every single other bench being fought for every yard time, conquered by different people every day, it seemed. No one tried to get Phil’s bench though. Purpled must be right, Phil was dangerous, no matter how nice he seemed, just like Purpled, who didn’t yell when Tommy had nightmares the way Dream used to, but still was a killer.
Tommy debated pretending he hadn’t seen Phil call him over, but after a moment of deliberation he realized that ignoring the man even Purpled thought was dangerous was probably a really bad idea, so he warily crossed the yard to settle on the bench, giving himself space between them, ready to bolt if Phil tried anything.
“I see you’ve been talking with some people,” Phil said, seeming amused more than anything at Tommy’s distance, “What did they say?”
“They said you’re dangerous,” Tommy said slowly.
“Only to people who deserve it,” Phil hummed, “And I enjoyed our talk the other day, you’re a good story teller.”
Tommy flushed at the compliment, thrown off, “Uh, thanks, I guess.”
Phil smiled, “I do wonder how much you exaggerate though.”
Tommy flushed more, knowing that he had, in fact, exaggerated his car-stealing and racing abilities.
“You’d get along well with my son,” Phil seemed reminiscent then.
“Your son?” Tommy couldn’t stop himself from asking.
“His name is Wilbur, he’s a little shit,” Phil looked into the distance, smiling, yet looking sad at the same time before shaking his head and looking at Tommy, “I’d hate if he were in your shoes, so young in this place.”
Tommy shrugged, “The guard said there’s no news yet on me moving to juvie.”
“You’re brave to ask,” Phil said, “Do you have any family who could get them to move you? They’re more likely to listen to people on the outside.”
Tommy hesitated, thinking of Dream. Dream who was more likely to punch and slap than to hug or praise Tommy. The chances of Dream doing anything for Tommy were slim to say the least. Tommy forced a smile though, “Nah. Tell me about your son.” Anything to change the topic from memories Tommy would rather not remember, even if it meant conversation with a man Tommy knew was probably some sort of serial killer or something.
“Oh, you’ll love this story,” Phil began.
Despite himself, Tommy slowly settled into something like ease, laughing and telling stories with Phil till yard time was up.
-
“I told you to stay away from him,” Purpled said that night, when the lights were off and they were supposed to be asleep. It was the first time he’d brought it up and Tommy had been hoping he would escape the lecture.
“He told me to come over,” Tommy said defensively, “I can’t exactly say no.”
Purpled fell silent for a while before speaking, sounding resigned, “If you can’t avoid him then do everything in your power not to piss him off.”
Tommy considered that for a moment before replying carefully, “Most people find me annoying.”
“Not Philza, apparently,” Purpled scoffed, “Just don’t get involved in something over your head, alright?”
“Okay,” Tommy said.
-
This time when the guard slapped Tommy, they weren’t exactly in a private location and Tommy saw the other prisoner squinting at them, likely trying to figure out how Tommy had pissed off the prison guard. The guard also decided that a single slap wasn't enough this time, and the normal slap was followed by a back hand that rivaled Dream’s.
Tommy stood there, blinking back tears, cheek stinging, and he realized that the guard had been holding back in the past. He had tried to be patient, really, it had been two weeks since he had asked last time and there was still no news. It wasn’t his fault he couldn't wait that long. It almost scared him how much fun he was having with Phil and both Phil and Purpled constantly pressed that he should get moved to juvie, for his safety or something. Tommy didn’t really care about the specifics, he just wanted to be somewhere without mysterious bad men who were so nice and kind that it confused Tommy.
“Stupid fucking kid, I told you it would take months, are you so dumb you can’t tell time?” The guard spat, literally, and saliva hit Tommy’s shirt.
Tommy flinched, “Yes, sir.” That was the response Dream used to prefer. “Sorry, sir.”
“Just fuck off,” the guard growled.
“Yes, sir,” Tommy said meekly, skittering away towards the yard. He pressed his hand to his cheek and stopped by the water fountain to splash his face and clean the guard's spit off of his clothes before he entered the yard, hoping to cool the burn there so Phil wouldn’t ask any questions. A nearby guard gave him a look though, so Tommy knew he couldn’t wait around much, and he moved into the yard, scrubbing viciously at his cheek despite the pain, thinking quickly.
As he approached Phil’s bench he saw that prisoner who had seen Tommy get slapped handing something to Phil before walking off. Phil tucked whatever it was into his pocket and smiled at Tommy before his smile faltered.
“What happened to you, mate?” Phil stood to peer at Tommy’s reddened cheek.
Tommy laughed sheepishly, putting all of his effort into the lie, “My cellmate got ahold of a sharpie somehow and I had a penis drawn on my cheek this morning, had to scrub it like hell to get it off and got water all over my shirt.” It was an excuse that had worked well for Tommy in the past.
Phil squinted before laughing a bit, “I see, come on, sit.”
Tommy did as he was told, glad to have fooled Phil, “What did you do this morning?” he asked.
“My good friend visited, actually,” Phil smiled, “We’ve been planning a surprise lately, so we needed to talk in person.”
“What sort of surprise?” Tommy asked.
“It’s for my son,” Phil said conspiratorially, wrapping an arm over Tommy’s shoulders, “It’s a secret.”
“You can tell me,” Tommy said eagerly, “I can't tell him.”
“Maybe, but I’d rather not tell you until it’s done with,” Phil said, “That way everything is perfect when I tell you.”
Tommy frowned, “Okay.”
Phil chuckled and they lapsed in silence for a while before Phil spoke, “You know, I tell you about my family all the time, do you have any family?”
Tommy tensed for a moment before making himself relax, a forced smile on his face, “A brother.”
Phil eyed Tommy for a moment, “You don’t seem to be on good terms, I haven’t heard you get a visitor yet, at least.”
Tommy shrugged, “He’s the reason I got caught, turned me in.”
Phil’s face fell serious, “Your own brother snitched on you?”
Tommy laughed weakly, “Yeah, he probably got sick of my shit.”
Phil’s arm around Tommy’s shoulder tightened minutely, “No one should do that to their family, mate,” he said softly, “What’s his name?”
Tommy leaned a bit away from Phil to peer up into the man’s face, debating for a moment, “Dream Taken.”
“Taken?” Phil seemed surprised, “You have different surnames.”
Tommy leaned back against Phil, “We have different dads.”
“Ah,” Phil hummed, “How long was your sentence?”
Tommy crossed his arms. Their conversations rarely got this in depth or personal, at least on his end of things, and he felt strangely exposed, “Like five years.”
Phil frowned, “Grand theft auto shouldn’t be that much.”
“I got sentenced for street racing, reckless endangerment, and some unpaid tickets. Not to mention that it was more than one car,” Tommy listed.
“Do you even have your license?” Phil asked. “You aren’t old enough, are you?”
“Nah,” Tommy snorted, “And they wouldn’t let me get my license anymore anyways.”
“I have connections, I could get your record expunged, if you want,” Phil offered, “You’re just a kid, kids make mistakes.”
Tommy scoffed, “I’m not a kid, and there’s no real point. I’m not gonna stop.” The thrill of driving, speeding through streets, blue lights in the rearview, wind whipping through a broken window, it wasn’t something Tommy planned on giving up, he’d just not let Dream turn him in next time.
Phil laughed, “You must like it then.”
“Yeah,” Tommy flushed then. He’d gone from blowing for his mom’s breathalyzer to being her chauffeur the moment he could see over the wheel and reach the pedals at the same time. When she kicked the bucket for alcohol poisoning, Tommy had never stopped. It wasn’t his fault he liked to go a little fast, and that wasn’t changing anytime soon.
“Then stick with it,” Phil ruffled Tommy’s hair.
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me not to break the law?” Tommy asked with a smirk.
“Well, if I were an upstanding citizen I would, but I’m here for a reason. Besides, with me as your friend I think we can organize a way to keep you out of prison in the future,” Phil smirked.
Tommy looked at the man and wondered, not for the first time, why Phil was dangerous, but who was he to ask questions? So he just smiled a bit, wondering just how safe he was if someone like Phil had his back. Maybe he wouldn’t have to rely on Dream for food and shelter anymore. Maybe Phil would even- no, Tommy shut down the thought train there. He knew better than to trust adults, than to hope beyond his means. So he just settled in there under Phil’s arm and let the man tell him all about his friends on the outside, someone named Techno especially, and Tommy daydreamed about maybe meeting them one day until the sting faded from his cheek and he could almost forget just how normal that sort of thing was.
-
Night was when Tommy and Purpled talked the most and tonight Tommy was gathering the guts to ask Purpled a question he had been thinking about for a long time. He no longer feared that his cellmate was going to stab him or anything, but he still was wary not to piss off the kid who had nearly gotten solitary for stabbing someone with a fork just the other day. The only reason he hadn’t gotten moved was because it had been in self defense, the other guy had been mad at Purpled over something from yard time and had jumped Purpled in the cafeteria.
“Hey Purpled?” Tommy called softly, almost hoping Purpled would be asleep.
“What?” Purpled deadpanned.
“Who did you stab thirty eight times?” Tommy asked.
“My neighbor,” Purpled answered, not sounding angry, just accepting.
“Why?”
“He hit his kids and killed a puppy they brought home,” Purpled yawned, “Fucker deserved it.”
Tommy couldn’t help but be a little conflicted. Did that mean that Purpled would kill Dream? Did that mean that Dream deserved to be stabbed thirty eight times? The thought was both devastating and made an emotion a little too vindictive for Tommy’s liking curl in his gut. He rolled over and stared at the wall until he fell asleep.
-
“Hey Tommy?” Purpled asked as he sat down with Tommy at breakfast.
“What’s up?” Tommy asked, not too disappointed to have his attention diverted from the limp toast in hand.
Purpled looked… nervous. He swallowed, looking around before leaning closer, “Does- Does someone hit you?”
Tommy blinked, “What?” Memories of Dream flashed in his mind’s eye and he fought for a neutral expression. How could Purpled know? It had to be a lucky guess.
“Does someone hit you?” Purpled repeated.
“No, why?” Tommy knew better than to sound defensive, imitating the confusion that a normal kid would feel if they were asked that.
“Well, you just have been off since you heard why I killed my neighbor, I just wondered,” Purpled flushed a bit, “Look, if anyone hits you, and I mean anyone , just tell me and I’ll take care of it, okay?”
Tommy frowned, a little confused, “Okay, I’m fine, big man.”
Purpled hesitated before a wobbly smile appeared on his face, “Yeah, of course you are, but you’re young, you know? Gotta keep an eye on the baby.”
With that their serious conversation dissolved into bickering while Tommy resolutely tried to defend his argument that he was in fact a big man to hide his anxiety over the past conversation, and Purpled fake laughed a little too hard while Tommy smacked his arm.
-
It had been three months. Tommy stood there, the guard he had to ask standing there, not having noticed Tommy yet. They were in a very isolated place this time and Tommy breathed deep to gather his courage before approaching.
“Sir?” Tommy asked.
The guard sneered immediately, “The fuck you want?”
“I was wondering if there’s been an update on my petition yet,” He swallowed, “It’s been three months now.”
The guard sneered, cruel, “Actually, there was, your guardian said you were aggressive and a flight risk, so you can’t be moved to juvie.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. His guardian? Dream? Why had Dream said that? “Oh,” he said. He knew Dream didn’t like him much, but wasn’t that a bit much? To lie to the system and put Tommy in this place? It was dangerous here for minors, Phil and Purpled had made that clear enough.
“What are you pouting for?” The guard scoffed.
Tommy, not wanting to cry in front of the guard, turned and started to walk away, but a hand caught his shoulder and forced him back around, a fist meeting Tommy’s face.
“How dare you turn your back on me!” The guard snarled, "You answer when your elders ask you questions, disphit!"
At least after the hit, Tommy’s tears felt justified, only now he was angry and he bared his teeth in a sneer, “Fuck you.” He deserved to be a little upset sometimes, didn’t he?
That earned him quite the beating, the worst yet, by far, boots beating into his ribs while Tommy just focused on sheltering his head, but Tommy still stood and walked away once the guard got tired and told him to leave, aching and just feeling like shit in general, blood dripping down his face as he tried to staunch the bleeding of his nose. A guard around the corner didn’t say a word to him, so Tommy just moved into the yard, thinking hard how he would explain this to Phil and Purpled.
“Tommy? Shit, Tommy!” Purpled saw him first, running from his game before Tommy even made it halfway to Phil’s bench and Tommy cringed as his cellmate immediately began inspecting his face, “What the fuck happened? Who did it?” Purpled seethed with rage.
Tommy batted the older boy away, “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t,” Purpled spat, “Give me a name, Tommy.”
A crowd was gathering now, the men whispering, some thought it was funny, others looked grim or even angry. Tommy was overwhelmed, frustrated, and ready to be the one finally beating someone else up but he couldn’t, so he just shouldered his way away from Purpled, “Leave me alone, Purpled.”
“To-” Purpled started to shout.
“What’s happening here?” A familiar voice inquired, interrupting Purpled.
Tommy was so shocked, that he looked up to find that by some twisted miracle, Phil had actually left his bench during yard time, the other prisoners scrambling to give him space as he looked at the bloodied Tommy.
“Tommy?” Phil asked, voice soft, and for the first time, Tommy really understood the danger in the man. It was quiet, not the showy sort Tommy was used to witnessing in guards and the biggest men in the yard. It was the sort of danger that had Tommy afraid, more afraid than he ever had been of Dream or that guard or even any other prisoner. It was a coldness to his eyes, the way that he gently turned Tommy’s face so that he could examine the forming bruises, something calculating there, something that promised violence.
“Phil,” Tommy managed, though it was more a whimper than a statement.
Phil smiled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he took Tommy’s arms, looking for more injuries, “Did your abdomen get hit?” he asked.
Tommy bit his lip, refusing to answer, maybe it was ingrained from his childhood, maybe it was just the frustration in general.
Phil just sighed and gently pressed on Tommy’s ribs, finding the probably fractured rib with a professional sort of quickness and Tommy hissed in a breath. Phil quickly withdrew his hand, so different from when Dream had played at caring, pretending to be trying to help Tommy's wounds while only hurting him more. The man smiled gently at Tommy, “Let’s get you to medical, alright?”
Tommy stared angrily at the ground, “I’m fine. This is nothing.” He didn't want to be coddled. At least if Phil's hands were adding bruises onto bruises they would actually make sense, instead of this kindness that strange, dangerous men shouldn't display towards delinquent kids like Tommy. Tommy almost missed Dream's method of fixing injuries, at least he didn't feel like such a baby when he cried then.
“If this is nothing then someone’s gonna fucking die,” Purpled snarled from where he stood, closer to Phil than anyone besides Tommy had dared to be yet, “Who was it?” The boy's eyes were intense with promised violence, eager to stand between Tommy and anyone who might hurt him and Tommy had never hated his cellmate more.
Tommy glared at the older boy, “I slipped in the shower, jackass.” As if he’d snitch too. Just being this beat up for everyone else to see was bad enough.
“Bullshit! We didn’t shower this morning!” Purpled snapped, fists clenched tight enough that they sent a thrill of fear through Tommy.
“Purpled,” Phil said softly, “That’s enough. Why don’t you help your cellmate to medical? I have to have a talk with someone.”
Purpled instantly paled and he choked on his words for a while before managing, “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” And he then shot Tommy a look that suggested the argument wasn’t over before ushering him straight to medical.
Tommy had a broken nose, fractured rib, and several bruises he didn’t want to list and the nurse eyed him in concern as she mentioned something about the marks obviously being from combat boots, not the flimsy shoes that the prisoners wore. Tommy didn’t say a word.
-
It had been two days since Tommy had gotten beaten up and he hadn't seen that guard since, not that he minded though. He got to pretend everything was fine with Phil who had started joining him during meals as well, which also meant Tommy only had to cuss Purpled out for being a nosy bitch when they were alone.
As they walked to the cafeteria they caught a whiff of something foul and Tommy recognized the scent of death immediately, eyes widening as he and Purpled made eye contact before racing towards the gathering crowd of prisoners, watching a bunch of guards around a maintenance closet. Tommy didn’t get to see much with the guards ushering everyone on with threats and strangely panicked looking glares. He did manage to see the corpse hanging from a noose though, the security guard’s uniform clear from even that small hint of identity. He also saw there was a puddle of something dark under where the guard's body hung.
That day they didn’t get yard time and Tommy found out at dinner that the guard had been the one who had hit him and he had been dead for two days.
-
“What’s wrong?” Phil asked.
Tommy couldn’t even deny that he had been quiet today, not sitting as close to Phil as he normally did, only thinking of that body in the closet, “Nothing,” he denied. It hadn’t been Purpled who had killed the guard, that was for sure, the kid hadn’t been away from Tommy for long enough for it to work, but Tommy clearly remembered Phil disappearing that whole evening. It was the only thing that made sense and it didn’t really make sense. How could a prisoner kill a guard? Why would Phil kill the one guard that had hurt Tommy? Did he know? Could he know?
Phil smiled slightly, “Come on, I know you better than that.” The man reached out to ruffle Tommy’s hair and the boy flinched unintentionally. Phil immediately drew his hand back, frowning, “Did someone else hit you?”
Tommy shook his head ardently, “No, no,” The last thing he wanted was another body in the closet.
Phil then cocked his head, eyes narrowing slightly, “Are you scared?”
Tommy stiffened, eyes widening and answered a little too late, a forced snicker as he feigned nonchalance, “What? No.”
“I know what fear looks like, Tommy,” Phil said gently, “Why are you scared?”
Tommy blinked, at a loss for what to say.
Then Phil seemed to realize something, smiling just slightly, “Oh, you figured it out.”
Tommy just stared.
“What happened to that guard, that is,” Phil said, “It seems I got the right one, then.”
Tommy couldn't help the way he flinched. So he had been right. Phil had killed the guard.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Phil said softly, “You know that I’d never hurt you, right?”
Tommy looked at the man, “How do I know that?”
“You’re like a son to me,” Phil said.
Tommy thought of the way Phil had talked about his real son, Wilbur, “You’d do that for Wilbur?” he couldn’t help but ask. He couldn’t imagine someone being willing to do such things for their kid, much less some random kid they had befriended in prison.
“Oh, I’d do much worse for him and you both,” Phil said with a fond smile, reaching out and pulling Tommy into a gentle hug, “Anything for my sons.”
Tommy shuddered, curling into Phil’s hold, conflicted. Phil had killed for him, somehow. Was it any different than Purpled killing his neighbor? “Would you kill anyone who hit me?” He asked softly.
“Anything for my sons,” Phil repeated, but it managed to have a darker tone this time.
Tommy pressed his face into the man’s orange jumpsuit, “Oh.” He decided not to tell Phil anything else about Dream. Partly out of that childish misplaced affection for someone he could call a brother. Partly because if anyone was going to kill Dream, then it would be Tommy.
-
“Have you ever been out of Essempi?” Phil asked one day. It had been three weeks since the guard had been found and Tommy had once again relaxed around the man, and Purpled didn’t even tell Tommy not to hang out with Phil since the man had proven that he cared for Tommy. The police had never figured out who had killed the guard and Tommy was only clear of suspicion because he had been in medical the whole night after, therefore having an alibi for the window of the man’s death.
“I’ve never left L’manburg,” Tommy answered, he was laying on the bench, his legs hanging over the end, his head resting in Phil’s lap while the man ran his fingers through his hair.
“We’ll have to change that,” Phil hummed, “I have a trip planned to Hermitcraft in two weeks, would you like to come?”
Tommy snorted, “Very funny, imaginary Hermitcraft?” He had five years and then some left of his sentence, Phil probably had a life sentence.
Phil looked down at Tommy, dead serious, “Not necessarily.”
Tommy blinked up at the man before sitting upright, eyes wide, “What? You could get us released?” He had the sense to whisper, but couldn’t believe his ears. Phil had mentioned connections before, maybe he had finally pulled the right strings, maybe Tommy would be able to drive again soon.
Phil smirked, “Something like that, but only if you’re interested. You’re still young. You have things in your future that going to Hermitcraft next week might interfere with.”
“Like what?” Tommy frowned, trying to understand what Phil was saying, or rather, what he wasn’t saying.
“Well, assuming you don’t stick with me, then it’ll be hard to get a job, to come back to Essempi, or even just to operate through any legal channels,” Phil listed.
Tommy blinked, “I don’t understand.”
Phil smiled and leaned closer, “Think about it, how could you get out of prison without being released?”
Tommy thought for only a moment before his jaw fell open, barely remembering to whisper in time, “You’re escaping ? But how?” No one escapes prison, it’s nearly impossible.
“I have my ways,” Phil smiled.
Tommy frowned, “You’ve have to be the fucking… leader of the Syndicate or some shit to do that.”
Phil just laughed as if Tommy had just told the funniest joke he had heard in his life, and when he started to calm down he looked at Tommy’s serious face and laughed some more before finally collecting himself, “Tommy, mate, I am the leader of the Syndicate.”
Tommy immediately flushed with embarrassment, “Oh,” and then what Phil had just said finally registered and his eyes widened impossibly wide and he scrambled backwards, falling off the bench onto the hard concrete, gaping up at Phil, “What?”
Phil chuckled, “I thought for sure you knew?”
“No!” Tommy snapped, “I-” He stopped. He had been about to say he wouldn’t have hung around if he had known Phil was the fucking scariest mob boss in the world, but he wasn’t all that sure anymore. Phil was nice. He was ten times nicer than Dream or any other adult had ever been to Tommy. Phil had even killed for him. Shit, Phil had killed for him. The leader of the Syndicate had killed the man who had hit Tommy. Tommy didn’t even know what to think. Finally, he blurted, “Do I owe the Syndicate?”
Phil blinked, “What?”
“You…” he looked around before whispering, “You killed that guy, do I owe you?” that would be fucking terrifying. He'd never be able to pay that sort of thing back. At that point, he'd be better off in prison than free, though even that didn't necessarily save him from something as widespread as the Syndicate.
Phil laughed, “No, Tommy, remember, you’re a son to me. I don’t say that to just anybody.”
Tommy stared at Phil. His friend, leader of the Syndicate, and apparently wannabe father figure. Then he laughed nervously, “I don’t know man.” What would he be agreeing to? A lifetime of service to the Syndicate? Another man to hurt him like Dream had? Only, he couldn’t believe that one. Not after Phil had killed the guard who had hurt Tommy. Not after he had promised such violence in defense of Tommy. For maybe the first time in a very long time, Tommy found that he trusted an adult.
“Think about it. The invitation extends to your cellmate, if he’s interested,” Phil said calmly, “But no one else.”
Tommy nodded, distant as he debated it.
-
“Hey Purpled,” Tommy whispered that night, “Ever been to Hermitcraft?”
-
Two weeks later Tommy and Purpled climbed into an unmarked black car with tint dark enough that Tommy wasn't sure how the driver could see out of it in the dead of night. It was a new moon so not even moonlight lessened the dark around the darkened prison. The power had been cut for about an hour now. Phil smiled as Tommy buckled up beside him and Purpled took in the people in the car with a jumpiness Tommy hadn’t seen on his cellmate’s face before.
“Hey dad!” The man in the passenger seat said brightly, turning to face them, the driver had long pink hair in a neat braid and he was focusing on the road, though his eyes flickered up to look at Tommy in the rearview mirror anyways.
“Wilbur, this is Tommy and his cellmate,” Phil said fondly, pulling Tommy close, “They’re going to join us in Hermitcraft for a little while.”
“Tommy! I’ve heard all about you!” Wilbur said brightly, “Prime, I’m so glad to finally have a little brother!”
Tommy flushed, “What?” Little brother?
Phil just laughed, “Oh I’ve missed you Wil, and you too Techno.”
The driver, Techno, looked in the mirror again, smiling in a way that was more of a smirk than a smile, “It’s good to see you too, Philza.”
-
The leader of the Syndicate, Philza Craft, disappeared without notice in the middle of the night only a few months after the start of his incarceration. With him disappeared the two youngest inmates in L’manburg City Prison. Despite their best efforts, the city police never found out how the criminals escaped.
-
"-thirty four," blood splattered onto a nearby door, "Thirty five," crimson on the mussed rug, "Thirty six," scarlet on the overturned desk chair, "Thirty seven..." Tommy was running out of synonyms for red. Needless to say, blood was everywhere.
"Please," Dream sobbed, his lifeblood soaking the rug where he had tripped, where Tommy had finally caught him. He was almost dead and Tommy smiled widely.
"Of course, Dream," Tommy sang, "Anything for family," and then he slammed his knife down for the thirty eighth time, laughing.