Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy's dreams were never pleasant. In his dreams the green strings that held him captive grew too tight, stealing away his breath and cutting off the circulation to his limbs, and in his dreams, his fire raged uncontrollable and against everything he loved. In his dreams, the strings that puppeted him grew taut against his skin, and his fire scorched his world. And sometimes Tommy had to wonder if they were even dreams at all. After all, when your body is far from your own, and your mind is a bear trap, who could say where the line between sleep and waking truly lies? And with the irony truly unappreciated, Tommy found himself waking up from one of the many horrible dreams he often had. The fire died in his mind and the strings felt more like ghosts as the dream melted into waking reality. It was always hard waking up, but this time everything seemed so much harder. Tommy's body ached like he had fought for his life, his blood hummed in his veins, the uncomfortable after effect of using his powers to their limit, his mouth and throat felt raw, as if he had been screaming, and his fingertips felt bare, as if they were missing the claws Tommy loathed and loved at the same time.

With a pained grunt, Tommy opened his eyes and shakily propped himself up. It took everything Tommy had to not slump back to the floor, his arms unwilling to support him. His vision was blurry with sleep, and it seemed he had been left discarded on a concrete floor, not a terribly unusual circumstance for Tommy. As he waited for his mind and eyes to clear, he found himself staring at the concrete below him. It was smooth to the point of polished, not a single crack marred its surface, but from where Tommy had his head, there were a few Crimson smears. The sight of blood didn't bother Tommy like it should've, and he let out a weary sigh. At least it was a hint as to what happened between now and the last time Tommy could remember being conscious. Tommy gave the blood stains a grim smile before glancing about the room he was left in.

His eyes were met with blank concrete walls and a thick glass barrier between him and a bare hallway lined with similar cells, some empty, some occupied. The sight was both a relief and a concern. It seemed that Dream finally lost him, and Tommy had been taken to Pandora's vault to live the rest of his life in peace. Sure, being locked up would suck, but at least his mind would finally be his own. But the only issue was the fact Tommy was still masked. His identity was hidden behind the snarling half mask, styled in the likeness of an oni, that hid the lower half of his face. This complicated things, as it left the smallest possibility that Tommy would be released. If they knew Tommy was a puppet of Dream's, that was all too likely, and if Tommy left these power dampening walls, he was certain Dream would take him again. After all, why would the Master of Puppets throw away his favorite marionette?

Tommy then turned his gaze to himself, deciding it was best not to dwell on Dream for the time being. He was dressed in the black and red costume Dream had made for him. It was a simple affair, with a long crimson coat adorned with a hood, a simple long sleeved black shirt emblazoned with crimson frames, worn dark jeans, and a pair of black tactical boots. While of course the clothes were fireproof, Tommy couldn't help but notice a few jagged rips, and the thin layer of ash that seemed to cling to him. If there was any blood, the black and red did well to hide it, but it seemed Tommy had sustained few injuries; despite the aching of his body. He did notice plenty of new silvery white scars, typically where his clothes had been ripped, and most jarring of all were his bare fingertips. Where Tommy always had claws, he now had smooth skin. The sight made him want to vomit.

Mutations were physical side effects to developing powers. They started once someone hit puberty and ended when they turned twenty five. Typically, the mutations were small, like changes in eye color or height, but with particularly strong or primal powers, the mutations tended to get more noticeable and extreme. For instance, Tommy at the age of thirteen had begun to grow claws. They were nasty things, hooked and black like the talons of some demon or bird of prey, but despite how much Tommy claimed to loathe them, those terrible claws were a part of him, a mark of his power, and to be without them felt wrong and left Tommy feeling oddly empty. Even with Dream controlling him in every way, at least Tommy had one thing to make him unique, but now even that was gone.

Tommy stared at his bare fingertips in disgust before curling his hands into fists. They would grow back in time, mutations could never go away, and while it sucked now, this would not be permanent. If getting locked up and away from Dream cost Tommy his claws, then so be it. It wasn't ideal, but Tommy was forcing himself to look on the bright side of things.

"Desolation? Are you awake?" A voice drew Tommy from his thoughts, and as he tore his gaze from his hands, he was met with the imposing sight of the Warden. The Warden was perhaps the strongest person within all of L'manberg, and he was the architect of the Vault. The very walls and floor were made with samples of his blood to infuse them with his ability; the power to simply turn the abilities of others off. As a price for his ability, the Warden looked far from human. His lower half was twisted into that of some strange green beast with a short tail and massive paws, like a centaur. From the waist up, he was mostly human, but covered the lower half of his face in a gas mask that seemed to filter the air he breathed. As far a dress went, the Warden dressed practically, but had thick metal plates wrapped about his beastial lower half and humanoid chest. He was intimidating, and in a way, a comfort. With the Warden around, Tommy would never burn anyone again.

"Regrettably." Tommy replied, frowning at the overly dramatic nickname Dream forced him to take. He was never one for fancy words and symbolic meanings, but with Dream there was no room for argument. "What the fuck do you want?"

"You're being summoned to the interrogation room." The Warden didn't react to Tommy's aggressive response and instead stayed neutral. "I'll be lowering the glass, you are to remain still and wait until I am behind you to stand up. If you do anything out of line, I'll be forced to take you there in cuffs, and to be honest, I don't want to do that."

"Got it, big man." Tommy grimaced at the idea of being interrogated. What did they need to know? If it was his identity, Tommy would be willing to tell the Warden or anyone anything if it meant he got to stay locked up. Anything to stay away from Dream.

"Good. I'm lowering the glass now." Sam used one of the massive paws of his other half to press down on a pressure plate, and with the sound of mechanisms and machinery, the thick glass barrier sunk easily into the floor. Once the glass was gone, the Warden entered the barren cell Tommy inhabited, and with the calmness of a lion among lambs, he positioned himself behind Tommy, ready for anything the young man could do. "You can stand up now."

Tommy, despite the ache in his muscles, attempted to pull himself to his feet. He hadn't really walked by himself in ages, it had always been the strings pulling him along, giving him no choice but to move at their beck and call. Thus his mind and body were out of sync, out of practice and estranged. Tommy managed to get himself on his feet, but as he attempted to straighten up, his knees faltered and he stumbled. Surprisingly, Sam didn't let Tommy fall into a heap on the floor, and instead grabbed his arm to steady him. Tommy didn't bother to thank him.

"Can you walk?" The Warden's voice had shifted from dull and commanding to worried as he kept his hand on Tommy's arm, keeping him from faltering. The tone didn't suit him in Tommy's very professional opinion.

"I can certainly try and eat shit if I can't." Tommy growled. He hated that even with Dream out of his head and the strings loose and useless, the masked bastard still had an effect on him. He had taken all sovereignty from Tommy to the point he couldn't even fucking walk on his own.

"If you can't, I'll carry you." The Warden let go of Tommy's arm, but Tommy could sense the imposing creature behind was ready to catch him again.

"Are you always this nice to your prisoners?" Tommy let out a mirthless laugh as he barely managed to keep himself upright.

"You're not one of my prisoners, yet." The Warden replied, "Exit the cell into the hall and make a left. If you try anything, I'll have to cuff you."

“Yet…” Tommy echoed hopefully as he began to unsteadily walk out of the confines of the cell. The first couple of steps were difficult, his bones felt like jelly and his body felt too heavy, but after a few steps forward, his mind seemed to remember the movements, and while his legs still seemed unwilling, his walking became slightly more stable All the while, the Warden was close behind him, keeping him on course the interrogation room and at the same time, ready to catch Tommy should he stumble.

The passage to the interrogation was surprisingly long and dull. Tommy had heard rumors that the Warden had hundreds of halls and passageways throughout the Vault so no one took the same path somewhere twice, but really it seemed a bit redundant. Every hall looked the same: stark white lights, smooth concrete floors, smooth concrete walls, and absolutely no signs or indicators as to where anything was. How the Warden navigated the place was beyond Tommy, but really, the architecture of the Vault, while annoying, was not the main focus on Tommy’s mind. While sure, the way was confusing, meandering, and honestly nonsensical, Tommy’s thoughts fared no better. After all, he was concocting so many different ways to keep himself locked away, and each one full of so many holes it could practically be swiss cheese. For one, Tommy could barely remember anything that had happened in the past two years, most of his memories he was confident in were mostly waking up hurt and abandoned in some place or another with no exit. Sometimes Dream was there to update him on things such as the time, day, and year, or if it was his birthday, and other times he was surrounded by other marionettes forced to be medics as they repaired whatever damage Dream had done. Secondly, Tommy was a horrible liar, he knew this to a fault. He couldn’t lie for shit. And lastly, Tommy was fairly certain the Warden already knew everything. This was probably all a formality to get him released and then sent right back into Dream’s waiting arms and choking strings. So, in reality, Tommy was mashing together stories and lies for no reason. At least he was giving it an effort, a desperate scrabble to keep himself and everyone he could remember caring about safe. Perhaps if he acted desperate and crazy enough, he could convince the Warden to keep him locked up anyways.

It was all too soon that Tommy’s thoughts and plans were put on hold as they had finally reached the interrogation room. Much like the rest of the vault, the interrogation room was mostly made of concrete, an already boring and monotonous gray material that the Warden seemed to adore. The wall that faced the open hall was made of the same thick glass as the front of the cells, and on the back wall there was a long mirror, though Tommy guessed it was a one way window. In the center of the room sat a stainless steel table that was bolted to the floor and one chair. Tommy could see loops on the table’s surface and on the arms of the chair that seemed to be for restraints. The idea of being chained to that table and bound to that chair sat uneasily in Tommy’s gut as the Warden, similarly to how he opened Tommy’s cell, pressed on a pressure plate and lowered the glass.

“Go ahead and sit in the chair.” The Warden motioned to the single chair and Tommy did as he was told. The chair was uncomfortably cold, and far from anything nice, but it was an upgrade to concrete. “Today I’ll be asking you questions about the event that got you caught and brought here, your personal information, and your past.” The Warden began to explain as he followed Tommy into the room, the glass rising behind him. “Our conversation will be recorded in audio and visual forms, as well as observed by a third party,” The Warden continued on as he settled down at the other end of the table, across from Tommy, “Any information you share as well as anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, and will have a direct impact on your whether or not you stay in Pandora’s Vault, are released, or sent to lower security prison. You will not be offered a lawyer at this time given your circumstances and lack of proper identity, but you will be properly offered one if those circumstances change. Am I understood?”

“Crystal clear.” Tommy responded, trying to ease the worry that coiled in his gut like a foul snake. This was the end all or be all, and already Tommy could see any plan he had made falling apart under the Warden’s cold gaze.

“Good,” The Warden nodded, “Let’s start off easy. Is it correct that your current alias is Desolation?”

“That would be correct.” Tommy nodded, digging his bare fingertips into the arms of the chair. It felt wrong without his claws but the act helped to ground him and keep him focused on the questions.

“Is it correct that your current social status is that of a villain?”

“Isn’t that one a bit fucking obvious?”

“Please just answer the question.”

“Yes.” Tommy answered bitterly, his mind wandering to two years ago when he was far from where he was now and doing vigilante work. He used to patrol the slums the heroes never really checked and he used to help people. That’s how Dream got to him.

“How old are you? And what is your ability?” The Warden began to shift the questions to more personal, and spared at glance to the mirror on the other side of the room as he did so.

“I’m nineteen and I can manipulate fire.” Tommy always lied about his age. Really, he was sixteen, too young to be a player in this game, but mentally old enough to know he wanted no part in it.

“Is that all?” The Warden arched an eyebrow at Tommy’s response about his power.

“I mean, I can do some amazing things with it, but it all really just boils down to fire manipulation.” Tommy didn’t get why the Warden put emphasis on his ability, certainly they knew he threw around fire, they had caught him after all.

“Alright.” The Warden let out a quiet sigh, “How about this, do you have any recollection of the event that got you sent to Pandora’s Vault?”

“I set something on fire?” Tommy decided to be vague. In his defense, he was probably right.

“Anything else?” The Warden focused his direct gaze on Tommy. His strange void-like eyes seemed to see straight through flesh and bone and directly into Tommy’s soul, and he couldn’t help but shrink away from the gaze. It was like the Warden already knew the answer and was simply tearing it out of Tommy for the fuck of it.

“I can’t remember.” Tommy found himself replying without meaning to.

“Can you remember anything about that event?”
“No, nothing, nothing at all.” Tommy found it hard to lie when the Warden was directly staring at him, unblinking and still, like a predator waiting for the perfect chance to strike. It was unnerving.

“You were attempting to burn down an old warehouse. A warehouse we now know was one of the places the Puppet Master used as a hideout. You burned it to the ground, and when the heroes on the scene attempted to arrest you, you proceeded to attack them, and upon being cornered, you turned your claws on yourself.” The Warden informed Tommy softly, as if Tommy wasn’t already expecting that. Nothing destroyed evidence like fire, and nothing kept secrets like death. “They ended up having to tear your claws out to keep you from killing yourself and sedating you quite heavily. You got your wounds healed and were brought here for containment.”

“That explains a lot.” Tommy tried to be light hearted, and offered up a light chuckle the Warden didn’t reciprocate.

“You don’t seem surprised for someone who just told me you had no recollection of what transpired.” The Warden’s voice was far from accusatory, and instead seemed sad in a way Tommy really didn’t like.

“I mean, shit like that isn’t exactly unusual, is it?” Tommy gave a weak smile despite knowing full well no one could see it. “I was obviously doing my best to avoid being here, and here we are.”

“Except that wasn’t you, was it?”

“I was entirely me, 100%, big man. I start fires, and I avoid consequences to the extreme, that’s me, all the fucking way.” Tommy attempted to lie, but judging how the Warden’s gaze only softened, Tommy assumed he failed.

“Are you protecting yourself or the Puppet Master?” The Warden shook his head, clearly not taking Tommy’s answer at face value. Tommy was unsure how to respond, but with a weary sigh he decided he might as well be honest considering his cover was already blown.

“Myself.” Tommy admitted, “I don’t want to burn things, or people, and I don’t want that sick fucker in my head.” The truth was simple, and it was desperate. “If you let me out of here, he’ll take over my head again, he promised me that much, and if he does that, I don’t think I need to tell you how much of this city will fucking burn.”

Chapter Text

With the promised threat still hanging in the air, Sam decided to end the interview there. The young man (Sam honestly doubted he was actually nineteen), who was dubbed Desolation, was clearly getting distressed. And, the Warden couldn't blame him. The Puppet Master was a cruel man, and he had twisted Desolation into something he wasn't. The unfortunate villain just wanted to keep himself and everyone else safe. But locking himself away in the Vault was no way to do it.

"I think we're done here. I'll be moving you to temporary holding until your fate is decided. Feel free to stand up." Sam pushed himself back up onto his paws and watched as Desolation seemed to drag himself from the chair. He was steadier than he had been earlier, but still shaky. "I'm lowering the glass, you stay still until I tell you to move."

"Gotcha." Desolation's voice was high and strained as he curtly nodded at Sam. The Warden had to stop himself from sighing once more as he moved to the hidden panel in one of the walls. With a flash of his ID card, the panel opened up, and Sam typed in the code.

"Once the glass is lowered, you can enter the hall." Sam instructed as the glass slid into the floor without a hitch, opening up the interrogation room.

Desolation didn't need any more prompting and made his way into the hall, Sam not far behind him. Once the glass had been put back up, Sam began the rather arduous task of navigating his labyrinth. As he directed Desolation through the barren empty halls, neither shared a word or indulged in conversation. From the few glances Sam got, he could see the young man's face was scrunched up, his eyes distant, and occasionally Sam would get the faintest scents of smoke. It was clear something was digging away at Desolation's mind, but Sam wasn't about to broach it. It wasn't his place to, after all, and honestly both of them seemed relieved when they finally entered the holding cell block.

The cells here were notably more comfortable, and while still sporting a thick glass barrier, each cell had a couple feet of concrete to give privacy. The holding cells were meant to be a buffer, a place for those still awaiting trial and those whose actions were not their own. Those proven guilty didn't deserve the basic comforts the holding block provided, but Sam didn't have it in him to place those who were undecided in the hell meant for the worst of criminals. Of course, Desolation had been a special case, and while Sam regretted placing the kid in the high security block when he arrived, it had been for the best. Desolation, true to his name, was destructive and powerful. Sure, Sam's ability muted that of others, but in rare cases, some abilities persisted, and Sam wasn't about to let a fire bomb go off in the weakest block in Pandora’s Vault.

Nonetheless, the kid had proven himself to not be a threat, and his power seemed nullified. So, Sam lowered the glass barrier of one of the comfier cells in the holding block and locked Desolation inside. Of course, the young villain almost instantly collapsed into a weary heap on the floor, ignoring the cot just a couple feet from him. Sam frowned from behind his mask, but said nothing. He would keep his worries to himself, and with Desolation back in a cell, Sam had other things to attend to.

Once more, Sam drifted through the twisting nonsensical halls until he found himself entering the observation room, the room on the other side of the one way glass in the interrogation room. The room itself was dim, with a table and a couple chairs, as well as a coffee machine that was covered in a thin coating of dust. But Sam wasn't alone in the room. The three most influential and powerful heroes in L'manberg had been waiting for him.

As far as the public knew, the heroes before Sam were called Banshee, Ares, and Seraphim, but Sam knew them better as Wilbur, Techno, and Phil respectively. They were a good sort with strong moral codes, and the want and abilities to save people. They had been the ones to bring Desolation down, and they were the ones in charge of his fate. People with abilities and especially those who fit into the Hero/Villain hierarchy tended to govern their own while the government at large tended to those without powers. And as far as L'manberg went, Phil was the judge, Wilbur was the jury, and Technoblade was the executioner.

"Hello, Warden." Wilbur was the first to greet Sam. Wilbur was the most human of the three with little indicating his rather absurd power of manipulation. His mutations were more subtle, and in all honesty, Wilbur scared Sam. If the Warden was ever to falter, Wilbur could fill his head with honeyed words, or a maddening symphony and Sam would listen and act on whatever Wilbur told him. In a matter of seconds, Wilbur could break the strongest of people.

"Hello." Sam greeted the hero back, as he settled into a sitting position before them. "What's the verdict on Desolation?"

"He's obviously innocent." Phil spoke before the two younger heroes could. Unlike Wilbur, Phil was more showing of his power; his face was uncanny, strangely angled, and all too regal to be human, his eyes were an unnatural blue hue, and most notably, he had a pair of massive black wings. "I mean, surely we can agree on that."

"But that doesn't mean we can't let him out." Techno replied in his monotone voice. Out of all the heroes Sam had met, Techno was by far the most like him. They were both monstrous. Technoblade's ability twisted him into some sort of boar creature, with tusks, hooves, and crimson eyes, though if Techno were to engage his power, he would turn into a massive boar monster that would almost rival Sam in size. "He was right about the Puppet Master taking control of him the moment he gets out."

"But, perhaps this works in our favor." Wilbur's face held a sly grin that sat uneasily with Sam. "I mean, we've never gotten our hands on a marionette before. At least not on a coherent one."

"He's just a kid, Wil." Phil had a strange tone to his voice, as if he was giving Wilbur a warning. "Not a lab rat."

"He's nineteen, he's an adult in the eyes of the government!" Wilbur protested, glancing at Techno and Sam, pleading with them both to back his argument.

"We don't know if he's actually nineteen." Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Without proper ID, we can't really confirm that."

"Not to mention, nineteen is still young." Techno added, "But I get your point, Wilbur. Desolation is a rare find and holds the potential to be what we need to catch the Puppet Master."

"You two cannot be serious." Phil glanced between the two younger heroes, as if in disbelief. "I don't think I need to explain how using a living breathing person as bait or an experiment is just morally fucked."

"What if we took him in? The two menaces need a third, not to mention, I need an apprentice myself." Wilbur offered, "The next trio of heroes is secured, and we get to observe him!"

"He's still got the strings attached." Sam sighed, he really didn't like the way this was going. "Desolation is a threat to anyone and everyone as long as the Puppet Master has him under his control."

"And we've come full circle." Techno let out a chuckle. "Damned if we, dammed if we don't."

"Well, certainly there's some solution here that isn't keeping him locked up." Phil turned his gaze to Sam. "Do you have any idea on what we could do?"

"Hmm." Sam took a moment to think. His theories on how to combat the Puppet Master and free the marionettes were lack luster at best, and often involved less than trust worthy characters. But sometimes setting aside moral differences and working together prevailed. "You won’t like my idea, but we could always see if Eret could do anything." At the mention of the villain's name, Wilbur's face twisted into a sour frown.

"Eret? The terrorist? The one, who need I not remind you, blew up the greater portion of L'manberg?" The words left Wilbur's mouth with such poison Sam could practically feel his power surge to keep Wilbur's contained. "The very person who betrayed us all?"

"Their power is practically made this scenario." Sam stated, calm as ever. "And, they've shown their remorse and they've been begging to be allowed redemption."

"If they can isolate whatever power they Puppet Master has put in Desolation, then we won't have to worry." Technoblade agreed, placing a calming hand on Wilbur's shoulder. "You may hate them, but Sam's right. Eret's power is perfect, and if it works, then we all win, and if it doesn't, you can add it to the list of reasons you hate them."

"I'm still not entirely down with taking Desolation in just to use him." Phil spoke up, his wings clearly tense. "It doesn't sit right with me."

"He's the best chance we've got at ever getting the upper hand over the Puppet Master." Technoblade sighed, "It may not be the morally best thing, but if we play our cards right, Desolation will get a better life than he could ever dream of and we take down the Puppeteer."

"Let's just see if Eret can even help us, first." Wilbur grumbled, clearly unhappy with having to associate with the traitor.

Chapter Text

It had been four days since Tommy awoke within the safety of Pandora’s Vault, and everything had been going great. He was being fed three meals a day, his mind was his own, and for the most part, he was left alone. Sure, guards and the Warden often passed by his cell on their way to wherever, but really only the Warden gave Tommy a glance. But otherwise? Tommy was left to his own devices, and that was fine by him; even if the days were long and boring without anyone to talk to, and the only interesting thing Tommy could do was sleep. So maybe being locked in prison sucked, but it was way better than committing unconscious acts of arson. Or so Tommy tried to reason.

In reality, Tommy was starting to get restless. He was an energetic guy, even under Dream's control, what few hours he had as himself, Tommy always attempted to go on a walk, or do something to occupy the energy that hummed beneath his skin. But in the Vault, all he could do was pace the small space until the action rotted his mind and he resolved to go to sleep where at least his dreams of fire and strings were a semblance of action and intrigue.

For a man so desperate to be locked away, Tommy was beginning to think this was the wrong choice. But thankfully, the universe had other plans, and on the morning of the fourth day, Tommy's after breakfast pacing was interrupted by the Warden stopping outside his cell, a stranger with him.

The stranger stood tall with a sort of lanky physique, and at a glance appeared male. His hair was considerably fluffy and brown, he wore round glasses, and his apparel was nothing to note as he was dressed in a simple sweater and jeans. But what did catch Tommy's attention was the smile the man wore. It wasn't twisted, or cruel, nor was it really warm and gentle. The smile was… confusing. On one hand, the man looked excited and friendly, his eyes locked onto Tommy with a sort of fascination that Tommy’s skin crawl. And on the other, he looked apprehensive with an ounce of uncertainty and sympathy. Like he wasn't sure what was going to happen, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. All in all, Tommy was ultimately unsure of this stranger. He was neither friend, nor foe, but could easily play either side on the turn of a dime.

"Desolation!" The stranger greeted Tommy warmly, his voice honey smooth and accented perfectly. The voice was strangely familiar, and in the faintest whispers of memories, Tommy could hear it, the words unclear but the sound all the same. "It's nice to see you as yourself."

"Do I know you?" Tommy asked, his own voice rough and ugly compared to the Stranger's.

"I suppose you don't." The stranger's grin faltered for a moment as he glanced to the Warden. "Though I know you, well at least the you the Puppeteer portrayed." The strangers face held a strange expression now, one torn between pity and loathing.

"That's a far cry from who he is." The Warden was strangely quick to defend Tommy. "You know that, Wilbur."

"I know, I know." The man, Wilbur, waved his hand dismissively. "It's just a bit difficult to separate this Desolation from that one."

"What's this all about?" Tommy had begun to approach the glass, he was frowning behind the oni mask he was told to keep on.

"Hopefully we'll be releasing you today." The Warden stated. "Given all goes well."

"And if it does, I'll be taking you on as an apprentice!" Wilbur was grinning again, this one full of excitement and delight.

"I don't even fucking know you." Tommy narrowed his eyes at Wilbur. He sounded a lot like Dream when he first took him under his wing.

"You do, just not by his actual name." The Warden began, quick to cut off Wilbur before the man even begun. "You know him as Banshee."

"This is fucked up." Tommy shook his head, the pieces quickly falling into place. Of course he knew that voice, he had heard it over the news and it had been used against him. Wilbur was one of the heroes Tommy looked up to, once upon a time, but now they were enemies, they had to be. Tommy was a villain, not exactly apprentice material for the beloved Banshee. "You can't even trust me without the Warden’s power keeping mine suppressed."

"That's what we're doing today." Wilbur explained, "The Warden believes he has figured out a way to get rid of the strings."

"You're lying." Tommy couldn't bring himself to hope or believe in the chance of ever truly being free. Dream was always so certain nothing could contest his power.

"Not in the slightest." The Warden huffed. "But we still don't even know if it'll work."

"Hopefully it will." Wilbur added, "I am looking forward to having an apprentice."

"You two are fucking crazy." Tommy shook his head and turned away from the glass. There was no way in hell they were being serious. This had to be a trick, a trick to get him back to Dream, a trick to kill him so he couldn't hurt anyone else, just anything that wasn't this. It was all too good to be true.

"Maybe!" Wilbur laughed, a truly musical sound. "But hey, isn't the thought of being free worth a little crazy?"

"And why should I trust you?" Tommy retorted, his voice low and bitter and his eyes staring holes into the bare concrete wall. "We're not supposed to be friends or even civil. You're a hero and I'm a villain."

"Ever heard of a leap of faith, kid?" Wilbur jested, his voice playful but the words brought harsh memories and even harsher emotions. Dream had something similar and it ended in a nightmare.

"I'm not a fucking kid." Tommy turned to glare at Wilbur, smoke rising from behind his mask.

"Desolation." The Warden's voice was even, but the tense way he placed himself between Wilbur and Tommy didn't escape notice. "We understand that you don't trust us, I wouldn’t if I was in your position, but I promise you, not as the Warden, but as a person, I only have good intentions for you. I believe, should my plan work, the best place for you would be with Wilbur and his team. They can keep the Puppeteer away from you, and they can train you. Belive me or don't, but you have potential to be something great." The Warden spoke with an honest conviction that Tommy found hard to dispute, but then again, Tommy didn't mind the Warden. He was nothing like Dream, and he was honest as far as Tommy could tell. The Warden was like the concrete he built the prison with, sturdy and unmoving.

"Fine." Tommy flung his hands up in a defeated motion.

"So, you'll come with us? Come with me?" Wilbur stepped around the Warden, his face and voice full of eager hope and excitement.

"Only because I trust the Warden." Tommy crossed his arms with a low growl. "You can go fuck yourself."

That sealed the deal for Tommy's fate, and without any more delay, the Warden lowered the glass, and began to direct Tommy and Wilbur in the right direction. The whole time, Wilbur seemed intent on chatting. He tried to get Tommy to talk about his past, tried to get him to share anything at all. His name, his face, his age, his powers, his mutations, anything and everything and Tommy gave him nothing. Wilbur was annoying and downright unhinged. They barely knew each other, yet Wilbur wanted to know everything about him. If the Warden’s power wasn't there to strangle all other powers, Tommy was certain Wilbur would know his darkest secrets by now and the thought sat unwell in Tommy's mind. Tommy didn't want to be known, he didn't want to be acknowledged in this way, but Wilbur was hellbent.

Thankfully, it did not take too long before they approached an area of the Vault Tommy could only describe as an arena. The ceiling was high, there were bleachers to either side, and the floor was littered with mats. The Warden's power was weaker here, just enough that Tommy reckoned he could make a decent flame before being stopped. But of course the object of notice in this room was a person.

The person was a prisoner, there was no doubt about that. They wore the uniform and they were flanked on either side by guards. In all honesty, the person looked quite a bit like Wilbur, being all tall and thin, but with darker hair, a more angular face, and of course, a pair of unsettling white eyes. They didn't smile as the three of them entered the room, and instead set their face into a determined scowl. Wilbur shut up and visibly tensed at the sight of whoever this was, and quickly fell behind to match pace with the Warden. Tommy, for his part, didn't feel too uneasy or threatened. The person joining them didn't exude bad vibes like Wilbur did, and seemed more neutral, like the Warden.

"Good morning." The person's voice was deep, and a bit of a shock. The voice did not match the body behind it.

"Good morning, Eret." The Warden returned the greeting, exposing the person as Eret, the traitor of L'manberg. Their power was mostly a mystery as their fame came from the bombs they had laced the city with. The Villain to end all villains, or at least that was the case until the Puppet Master arrived.

"Hello." Tommy offered up a simple greeting, something that made Wilbur frown disapprovingly.

"Desolation." Eret gave Tommy the smallest of smiles. "It's nice to finally meet the man behind the strings."

"Everyone's been saying that lately." Tommy huffed, not quite sure why everyone seemed so intrigued by him. He had seen the horrible shit Dream had him do, he watched the news broadcast his horrible fires and messy fights with heroes. He was just another nasty vile villain. But perhaps, that's why he garnered Eret's attention.

"Well, it's true." Eret chuckled. "It's always pleasant to meet someone, especially when their public image is so wrought in someone else's."

"I guess you're right." Tommy really didn’t get it, and decided to change the subject. "The Warden said you could help me get rid of the strings?"

"Quite." Eret nodded before continuing, "I can use my power to take bits of other's power and give them physical form. Theoretically, that means I can take whatever power the Puppet Master has put on you, remove it, and render it nullified."

"That's not as complicated as I thought it would be." Tommy frowned behind his mask. Certainly something like this should be convoluted? Weren't important things always complicated?

"It's more complicated for me than for you. All you need to do is give me your hands." Eret held out their hands, another small smile playing on their face. Tommy stared at Eret's hands for a moment before glancing back at the Warden. He was unsure of whether or not he could trust any of this still, but the small nod the Warden gave him, and the unhappy glower that sat on Wilbur's face was enough to convince him. Without any more hesitation, Tommy placed his hands in Eret's.

The other's skin was cold against Tommy's, and once the contact was made, several things happened at once. One, the Warden dulled down his power, causing the fire in Tommy to suddenly surge, making his chest uncomfortably warm and his veins burn. Secondly, Eret's power was quick to act, and in an almost painful contrast, it was like ice. Foreign cold laced up through Tommy's nerves, coiling about under his skin as it spread to search for the remnants of a power that wasn’t Tommy's. Everything was hot and cold at the same time, and Tommy found himself hard pressed to stay still. Everything was too much and he wanted to drop Eret's hands and flee. To where, Tommy didn't know, but he wanted all these conflicting sensations to stop. But, before Tommy could pull away, Eret suddenly dropped Tommy's hands and stumbled back with small huff, as if whatever they did took a lot out of them. Tommy let out the breath he had been holding and clutched his own hands to his chest as the Warden’s power seemed to reactivate, stamping out the fire that had begun to burn again in Tommy's chest.

"Did you do it?" The Warden asked, taking a step forward and holding out a hand to Eret expectantly. Eret, who seemed incredibly tired, only nodded, before dropping a marble sized green gem into the Warden’s palm.

"That's it." Eret spoke as if speaking was hard for them. "Don't break it, and everything should be okay."

"Thank you, Eret." The Warden pocketed the gem before turning to Tommy. "Looks like you get to go free, Desolation."

"With me!" Wilbur made sure to butt in, almost making a show to Eret and the Warden that Tommy was going with him, but neither really seemed to care.

"Are you sure you want me out of here?" Tommy ignored Wilbur and instead gave his attention to the Warden.

"There's no reason for me to keep you here." The Warden shrugged in response. "You aren't meant to be locked away."

"If you say so, big man." Tommy let out a weary sigh. He wasn’t excited to be going with Wilbur, but it seemed like he had little choice in the matter.

"Don't worry, I'll turn you into the greatest hero L'manberg has ever seen!" Wilbur placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder. The motion was horribly familiar, but Wilbur didn't squeeze his shoulder like Dream would've, a reminder as to who was in control, and the hand was gone before Tommy could shove it off.

That act alone gave Tommy pause. Wilbur was strange, and sometimes a bit frightening. Tommy certainly didn't know his motives or morals about any of this. While of course he was one of the beloved heroes of the city, even heroes could be horrible people under their masks, but the act of such casual contact without some sort of hidden meaning was enough to make Tommy consider that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Wilbur was ecstatic, and probably borderline manic. He was finally getting an apprentice, and thus he was finally going to be on the same level as Techno and Phil. But not only that, his apprentice was Desolation. A young and powerful reformed villain (well, to be reformed), one with not only infamy but also an air of mystique about him. Not only that, but Desolation could be the very key to taking down the Puppeteer. It was like a match made in some sort of Heaven, and Wilbur couldn't be happier. But of course, there were quite a few things that needed to be fixed before everything was truly perfect.

For starters, Wilbur was sure he needed to talk to Phil. Wilbur, by fault of his mutations, was a horrible person, really. His mind was twisted, and shattered in a confusing array of humanity's worst traits. He was selfish, manipulative, ambitious, narcissistic, envious, and so much more, and it was through self control and a lot of help that Wilbur was even a hero. His voice was the work of humanity's flaws, and without someone actually morally proper, Wilbur tended to reflect that. He knew how he was currently viewing Desolation was fundamentally wrong, and if he let himself go down this path, Wilbur would have the boy under his thumb just like the Puppet Master. He would sing Desolation a beautiful song, his words honey sweet and full of promises he wouldn't keep and the human flamethrower would be his clay to mold. But that was wrong and it was evil. He needed Phil to help set him straight.

Secondly, Wilbur still knew nothing about the young man he was escorting out of the Vault. The horrid evil part of Wilbur urged him to simply command Desolation to spill his guts once Sam's power no longer held his tongue, but Wilbur didn't want to do that. Well… he did, but that would ruin any positive relationship he could possibly have with Desolation. But of course Desolation didn't trust or even like Wilbur (something Wilbur actually didn't mind, it was refreshing, really) and thus he kept everything close to heart and under lock and key.

So really, the perfect situation was a far cry from it; in reality it was more so like a bomb just waiting to explode in Wilbur's face as retribution for his morally ambiguous ways. But hey, Wilbur was a slut for dramatic openings and an absolute whore for dramatic ends.

"So… Desolation," Wilbur decided to leave his thoughts swirling about his head like a circus ride gone rogue in favor of striking up conversation with his new apprentice as they slowly made their way to the entrance of the Vault. "Do I get to know your name now that I'm going to be training you?"

"It's Tommy." Desolation, no, Tommy, snarled. His face was still hidden behind that haunting oni mask, but Wilbur could see all the tell tale signs of a grimace painted on his face.

"Last name? Mine's Soot if that makes it more fair." Wilbur wasn't going to use his power to get to know Tommy, but if he could get the kid to spill useful information, Wilbur was definitely going to dig up any info he could.

Instead of answering, Tommy simply puffed grayish smoke from behind his mask. A habit Wilbur noticed he did whenever he got defensive, which was pretty much always.

"I'm just making small talk here." Wilbur shrugged, trying to keep himself nonchalant. "I'm not trying to unravel your very existence." Wilbur lied expertly. He was almost too good at this.

"I don't fucking want to make small talk with you." Tommy replied, the venom hiding the fear that laced Tommy's words. It was abundantly clear to Wilbur that beyond all else, Tommy was very afraid. The contempt, the abrasive comments, and the stiff and brutal demeanor were all a facade to hide the scared boy beneath.

"Fair enough. Want to talk about something else?" Wilbur shrugged, trying to keep himself as unimposing as possible. He needed Tommy to trust him, and the tiny good part of Wilbur wanted Tommy to feel safe with him.

"Tell me about where we're going." Tommy gave Wilbur a glance, his strange blue eyes narrowed as if he was mentally preparing.

"We're going to my personal estate. Well, it's not really mine, I share it with Seraphim and Ares, you know, my teammates? Their actual names are Phil and Technoblade. And their apprentices live there too." Wilbur began to explain, "And really, estate is a lackluster word for it. It's more like a private community hidden away in the mountains above L'manberg."

"You actually live with Seraphim and Ares?" Tommy seemed honestly shocked by that and Wilbur laughed lightly.

"They're basically my family at this point. Plus, living near each other helps us work better as a team." Wilbur shrugged, "Just like you'll mostly be hanging around the other two apprentices."

"What are they like?" Tommy tilted his head, his voice laced with the uncertain fear Wilbur was certain stained Tommy's very soul.

"Well, if you didn’t lie about your age," Wilbur knew Tommy being nineteen was an absolute lie, "they're only a couple years younger than you. Tubbo is Phil’s apprentice, his power is all about these strange quasi real shapes he conjures. Kid's a bit of a genius too, has a real knack for technology." Wilbur chuckled at his own description of Tubbo. He was making him sound way more calm than the goat-esque kid actually was. "Then there's Ranboo. He's being trained by Techno. They sorta have similar abilities, considering they both have to shape-shift to activate their powers. We really don't know the full extent of Ranboo's capabilities, but for now he teleports."

"I don't think I exactly fit in with them." Tommy huffed after giving Wilbur's words a once over.

"I didn't think I fit in with Phil and Techno either. Phil has weaponized wings and some crazy innate capability, and Techno is a boar monster and self proclaimed blood god. Who am I, the pretty boy with a pretty voice to walk beside them?" Wilbur shook his head as he spoke, remembering the many times he felt weak in the shadow of his father figure and brother by all but blood. "But sometimes even the strangest of powers have a way of meshing."

“Fire doesn’t mesh, it destroys.” Tommy muttered almost to himself, and internally Wilbur sighed. This was all going to be harder than he thought.

“We’ll just have to see.” Wilbur kept his voice light as they finally reached the final door of the Vault.

It was here that the faceless guards that had been following them, finally stopped, and after putting a series of complicated codes and swiping their cards in strange patterns, that the door and its several layers of fortification finally lifted. The open and dead entrance of the Vault was revealed, and midafternoon sunshine glowed warmly and invitingly, just begging for Wilbur to step out of the cold dead Vault and into the bright world. Wilbur wasn’t one to turn down invitations, and the moment he was allowed to, he stepped out into the day and took a breath of fresh air and relished in the feeling of his true voice being returned to him. It was a good day to be out, and while Wilbur would have loved nothing more than to find a nice spot and play his guitar, he instead turned back into the dim entrance of the Vault, waiting expectantly for Tommy to follow him.

Tommy, for his part, was looking out onto the world with quiet uncertainty and the faintest hints of disdain. Smoke drifted from his mask, and his hands were tight around the extra material of the prison jumpsuit he had been given, thankfully, the kid’s claws had yet to fully regrow, leaving the abused material mostly unscathed. Still, it was a sad sight to see. A person so scared of leaving a place they were never meant to be because it offered some form of safety that the uncaring outside world didn’t. A kid with a mind that for so long wasn’t his, scared to have control ripped from him again. It was tragically poetic, and Wilbur felt the urge to twist it all into a song. Something beautiful to play off all the tragedy. But before he could begin to think up lyrics and melody, Tommy took a step out of the Vault, and almost instantly the smoke that had been drifting from his mask turned into the smallest of bright golden flames.

Wilbur couldn’t help but wince ever so slightly at the sight. He had been burned by those golden flames, burned bad, and he had seen them destroy things and people thoughtlessly. Of course, the man behind those flames, the man that burned him, wasn’t Tommy, but it still brought back vile memories. But the memories of burnt flesh and charred buildings quickly subsided into perhaps morbid curiosity as Tommy pulled off his mask to let the flames, that fell like water from his mouth, vent properly. Of course, the kid’s face was mostly unremarkable, though the full picture really showed off his youth. Tommy really didn’t look much older than Tubbo or Ranboo, but somehow that young face looked as if it lived a lifetime with the scars that laced it.

“Are you alright?” Wilbur inquired politely as Tommy continued to leak fire from his mouth. The kid didn’t seem to be in pain, but looked rather inconvenienced and embarrassed. “That’s a lot of fire.”

“I’ll be fine.” Tommy growled pointedly in response, his words causing the flames to sputter and spark as they rolled off his tongue and through his teeth. “They’ve just been building up, that’s all.”

“Does it have to come out of your mouth? It’s kinda creepy.” Wilbur decided to be blatantly blunt. It was weird to see someone basically vomit fire.

“I dunno, it just fucking does.” Tommy spat out, the flames finally coming to an end as he got them more under control.

“You’re like a weird fire eater, but in reverse.” Wilbur jested, giving Tommy a wide grin.

“And you’re manipulation if manipulation was human being.” Tommy retorted, a small smile tugging at his lips, showing Wilbur his sharp teeth.

“Touche.” Wilbur let out an honest to everything genuine laugh. Most people tended to dance around the real nature of Wilbur, but Tommy had used it as a joke. This kid was going to go far. "You ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Tommy sighed, his blue eyes glancing up to the sky.

"Don't look so down!" Wilbur walked to Tommy's side and began to lead him towards the rather shitty truck Wilbur drove. "Most people would kill to be in your shoes."

"Not if they knew the cost." Tommy grumbled in response, but made no other comment as Wilbur unlocked his truck and opened the door for him.

Sure, Wilbur made progress with the kid today, but his words were showing of the troubling road ahead. Honestly, Wilbur wasn't sure he was ready to handle Tommy, but already he could tell he was attached. Sure, his twisted nasty mind saw all the uses Tommy had, all the ways Tommy could improve Wilbur and his image, but at the same time, Wilbur saw an opportunity to pay the kindness he had been shown forward. Tommy was lost in a sea of uncertainty and fear, and Wilbur had the chance to be the lighthouse to guide him to shore.

Chapter Text

The estate was much bigger than Tommy expected. Sure, Wilbur had described it as a community, but Tommy hadn't expected him to be right. Either way, it was a massive place made up of several buildings, all mostly in a strange homey style, like cabins, but way bigger and definitely more high tech than any cabin had any right to be. Plus, there seemed to be an expensive garden, as well as a rather large pool. All in all, the place looked lovely, too lovely for a creature such as Tommy, but still, Wilbur seemed intent on having a literal fire hazard around.

"You see, we mostly stay in our own buildings to keep us from killing each other!" Ever since they had arrived, Wilbur hadn't shut up. It wasn't too bad, but Tommy was feeling overwhelmed and having Wilbur rant in his ear was not helpful. "You'll be staying in my house, you'll have the basement all to yourself, if that's okay with you?"

"I don't care." Tommy sighed, unable to really process what was going on around him. He wasn’t used to having choices, and he wasn't used to so many nice things around him. Tommy was used to waking up in old warehouses and alleys, and wouldn't be caught dead in a place this nice.

"Are you sure? I want you to be comfortable and happy here!" Wilbur continued, his voice taking on that all too familiar echoing tone as he mistakenly used his power to emphasize happiness. Wilbur didn't seem to notice he had done it, and Tommy wasn’t going to hold it against him, but he hated just how much he sounded like Dream when his power was used.

"I'll be okay with fuck all." Tommy waved a hand dismissively. "Can I just be shown wherever I'll be staying already?" Tommy honestly just wanted to sleep or shut himself away where no one could bother him.

"Of course." Wilbur nodded with a faint smile. He was far too agreeable to be trusted in Tommy's opinion, but thankfully it worked in his favor and Wilbur took him into one of the buildings on the Estate.

The inside of the two story tall building was strange. While the outside boasted a rustic appeal, the inside was a jarring mix of blandly unassuming and high tech. Inventions and gadgets of the highest quality easily shared space with things barely out of date in a way that made Tommy think back to a home that had long since been his. As well as the strange decor, the place also seemed well lived in; for some reason, Tommy had expected a shell of a home, not a place littered with signs of a personal life and air that smelled faintly of coffee twisted with lavender. It seemed easy to feel comfortable within the walls of this home, easy to forget that Tommy wasn’t really here by choice. But thankfully Wilbur didn't let him linger in the entrance and living room of the home, and was quick to show Tommy to the basement.

The basement itself was just as nice as the rest of the home Tommy had seen. It was finished with nice hardwood floors, a bathroom, and all the makings of a bedroom with a dresser, bed, and table side table. Strewn around, as if moved quickly, were a couple of boxes with various labels such as "Christmas" and "Mementos" but Tommy didn't pay them much mind, after all, his mind was already coming up with reasons why all of this space really couldn't be his.

"Hopefully everything is acceptable. If you want, we can go out and buy furniture that's more your style." Wilbur offered nonchalantly as if Tommy deserved any of this.

"Are you sure you want me to stay here?" Tommy found himself asking, shaking his head worriedly.

"Of course! I mean, if you don't like it, I can convert one of the rooms upstairs into a bedroom for you." Wilbur went on hurriedly, as if not quite getting Tommy's point.

Tommy only responded by giving Wilbur a look. He was confused by this kindness, he was confused by how his life was turning out and he was confused by Wilbur. The strange sort of neutrality that Tommy had gotten from him when they first met was all but gone, and was replaced by a kindness almost too sweet to be real. It was the flip of the coin Tommy really hadn't expected, but it was worrying. People were only nice if they wanted something from you, but for the life of him Tommy couldn't think of a single thing Wilbur, the man behind the beloved hero dubbed Banshee, could want from the horrible little boy whose alias was synonymous with destruction and whose real name meant practically nothing. Tommy was pretty sure he had burned Wilbur while Dream pulled the strings, he was almost certain of it. Tommy had burned Wilbur and his teammates all in some capacity. So really, there was no reason for Wilbur to spare Tommy even a shred of kindness, much less a comfortable place to sleep.

"I don't really get why you're looking at me like a kicked puppy." Wilbur interrupted Tommy's internal spiel, "But I'm going to leave you to settle in, okay? If you need me, I'll be around, and if you can't find me, go find someone else and they'll gladly help you." Wilbur reached out to ruffle Tommy's hair as he spoke, but Tommy was quick to flinch away.

"If you say so." Was all Tommy bothered to respond with, but it seemed to be enough for Wilbur as he was quick to retreat back up the stairs, leaving Tommy alone.

With the basement to himself and the comfort of silence slowly settling in, Tommy made up his mind about a few things. Firstly, Wilbur was not to be trusted. Not yet at least. Secondly, Tommy was going to enjoy this while it lasted, even if he didn't even deserve a blanket on the ground. After all, comfort was a rare commodity and Tommy wasn’t exactly a masochist. And lastly, he wasn't going to give anyone on this estate anything to use against him. Everything he was and everything he had ever been was going under lock and key. Tommy Innit was not going to be manipulated again as long as he had the power and autonomy to prevent it. And to prove his second point, Tommy hesitantly allowed himself to lay on the bed. At first he was tense, smoke falling from his mouth as he waited for Wilbur to return, angry or cruel. But, no one came, and thus Tommy sank into the soft bed. It had been years since Tommy had slept in a bed, and it felt nice to be held by a mattress instead of concrete or a cot. When his claws grew back in full, Tommy would have to take extra care to not ruin such a soft luxurious thing. And with that thought swirling in his mind, Tommy drifted off to sleep.

For once, Tommy did not dream those unpleasant dreams where ash coated his tongue, and golden fire scorched what little he still bothered to love while all the while strings pull him about like a broken marionette trying to dance and fall all the same. Instead, his sleep was a peaceful abyss, dark and shapeless, yet at the same time weightless and gentle like a pool of dark water. It was the best sleep Tommy could ever remember having.

And while Tommy rested, Wilbur went about his own business, or more so went back to it. He had a patrol to do, and a conversation to have. Tommy would be fine by himself, Wilbur was mostly certain. So, Wilbur left his home quickly, before he could change his mind, and made his way directly to Phil's house.

Out of the entire estate, the building Phil called his own was by far the tallest and largest. On its lower levels, it held the training gym, a rather impressive game room, and a miniature library that put Techno's and Wilbur's to shame. Up on the higher levels were Phil’s personal quarters, a conference room where they met with the non power blessed government as well as other teams of heroes, and lastly extra rooms for guests. In all honesty, Phil's building was more like a hotel than a home, something the eldest of their team didn't seem to mind but made jokes about all the same.

Either way, hotel or not, the place was a comforting haven to Wilbur, and probably everyone else on the estate. Walking through the doors meant instant relief and safety, a weight lifted off one's shoulders by a simple action alone, all because of Phil. Phil was a father by nature, and was quick to adopt anyone into his family if they needed it, and for Wilbur, a man who'd lived most of his life alone, Phil was practically his everything. The older man knew how to morally realign Wilbur with a simple conversation, and if anyone knew how to help Wilbur help Tommy, it would be Phil.

"Phil! Dadza!" Wilbur's voice rang out in the empty foyer as he entered the building. "Are you around, old man? Techno will want us ready in an hour!" As Wilbur's voice echoed, he distantly heard the tell tale rustle of wings above him.

"Who the fuck are you calling old?" Phil's good natured laugh echoed down the thin spiral staircase as Phil descended. "I'm not much older than you and Tech, y'know."

"You're an old soul." Wilbur couldn't help but grin as Phil made his way down the stairs, and greeted Wilbur with a wave. "Ancient bones trapped in a youngish body."

"Fuck off, mate." Phil's words had little venom to them, and his uncanny face was turned in a smile. "How was the Vault?"

"Boring and dull as always, but thankfully the traitor did their job and it worked." Wilbur felt a pang of viscous jealousy towards Eret. They were literally a terrorist, yet Tommy had been so quick to trust them. "Desolation is free of his strings and safely within the estate." Wilbur forced himself to refrain from saying his arms, he was quickly bordering on possessive with Tommy and it had only been an hour.

"Well that's great!" Phil genuinely looked relieved to know Tommy was out of the Vault. If Dadza had already taken the kid into the flock, then Wilbur supposed he had little to worry over. "Did he tell you his name? Or anything else?"

"His name is Tommy, but that's all he would give me." Wilbur sighed, he itched to use his power on Tommy, especially after the strange interaction they had in the basement. "He's very untrustful."

"And that bothers you greatly." Phil added, a sudden look of realization taking over his face. "Wilbur, you can't push him, mate, and if you even think about using your power on him, he'll never trust you."

"I just want him to be safe!" Wilbur curled his hands into fists. It was frustrating when Phil's ability stripped Wilbur's mind and intentions bare, but it was half the reason Wilbur liked Phil so much.

"And you want to use him to take down the Puppet Master." Phil sighed, his wings sagging an inch as he rubbed his face.

"I more so want to keep him safe, to make him feel loved." Wilbur retorted, his mind had moved on, mostly, from wanting to use Tommy as a tool and more to having Tommy as a brother. One fancy to the next. It wasn't too much of a surprise given how much Wilbur saw himself in Tommy's cold eyes.

"Wil, he's a person. Not a tool and not a doll." Phil kept his voice calm and even. "If you treat him as a person, I'm sure he'll open up to you, and I'm sure he'll help us put that sick fuck away."

"It's just hard, waiting and being patient." Wilbur grumbled before shaking his head. "But you're right, you're always right, Phil."

"I'm right most of the time." Phil rested a hand on Wilbur's shoulder with a smile. "Now, let's get ready to do our jobs, yea?"

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up from his nap feeling oddly content. His body did not ache with mystery wounds, his throat and clothes were free of ash, and he wasn't filled with the desperate need to check the news. He had fallen asleep on his own, and he was waking up on his own. His mind free, and for once, his body comfortable and warm. Tommy didn't even realize he had missed the feeling of laying in a bed until now, and even as his mind woke up, he couldn't find the motivation to move. Everything was soft, everything was pleasantly warm, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a content sigh as he laid there.

"He made a noise!" A half whisper suddenly broke the fragile silence Tommy had considered himself in.

"Ranboo, what the fuck!" Another whispering voice exclaimed. "You're gonna wake him up!"

"Well, you're not being much better." The first voice retorted. "If I didn't wake him up, you certainly just did."

"Shhh!" The second voice hissed and Tommy let out a less content sigh.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tommy grumbled, his mind still hazy from the best sleep of his life as he sat up to glare at the two intruders. "And who the fuck gave you the idea that I liked being watched in my sleep, fuckin weirdos." Tommy shook his head as he looked at the two new faces.

The first person Tommy took note of was a lanky and tall kid who looked absolutely terrified. Despite looking no older than eighteen, this kid looked almost entirely mutated with his skin being split down the middle into sides of inky black and paper white; his sort of longish scruffy hair was similarly split, and his eyes were red and green respectively, and bore cat-like pupils. The two toned teen's legs were also bent like that of an animal's, and instead of feet, he had paws. Along the same vein, the kid also had a tail, long pointed ears, clawed hands, and a pair of small horns that barely poked through his hair. As for dress, he was wearing a simple black jacket, some sort of printed t-shirt, and odd fitting jeans.

Next to the tall two toned kid was a much smaller teen who looked considerably more human. His brown hair was so long it covered his eyes, and it almost masked the beginnings of goat horns that were growing from his head and the droopy ears. Minus the horns and ears, the kid was mostly normal and wore a green sweater with jeans that noticeably had pockets full of electronic parts to the point it looked like a hazard.

Together the two made an odd duo, and they both had matching looks of horror on their faces as Tommy regarded them coldly.

"This was Tubbo's idea!" The two toned teen hastily pointed a finger to his smaller companion. "He wanted to see who our new teammate was!"

"And to think I called you my beloved." The goat kid, Tubbo, turned to the two toned kid with a look of utter betrayal.

"That didn't answer the question." Tommy added with a small shake of his head.

"I'm Tubbo and this is Ranboo." Tubbo was quick to introduce them with a wide grin. "Now who are you?"

"Tommy." Tommy replied evenly, eyeing his supposed teammates. "You two don't look like the makings of heroes."

"You don't either." Ranboo pointed out, "I mean, literally you're a villain."

"A villain against my will." Tommy narrowed his eyes at the tall two toned freak.

"Well, at least you get to have a redemption arc with two of the coolest hero apprentices ever!" Tubbo extended a hand towards Tommy. "Welcome to our horrible, not quite heroic hero team!"

Tommy hadn't expected to like the two other apprentices, but with that statement alone, Tommy decided he at least liked Tubbo and shook his hand with a smile. It wasn't much, but it made the goatish boy light up like a Christmas tree. The sight was enough to make Tommy laugh.

"Why the fuck are you smiling like that!?" Tommy wheeled between the peels of laughter that escaped his chest after so many years without even a giggle. "It was just a handshake!"

"It's not every day I get to befriend an actual arsonist, asshole!" Tubbo joined in with laughter, leaving Ranboo to watch them with mounting worry building behind his eyes.

After that, Tommy allowed Tubbo and Ranboo to give him a full tour of the estate (again) and the whole time, Tommy couldn’t help but feel a strange childish glee at being able to joke around with people his own age. Tubbo perfectly matched the truer more chaotic side of Tommy perfectly, while Ranboo was the perfect middle ground of normal and equally chaotic. And while he had just met these two, it felt as if Tommy had found what he had been missing all this time. Two missing pieces finally slotted into place. But of course, Tommy didn’t keep his hopes too high. The evil part of his brain whispered about how long it would take before Tommy burned his two new friends, or how long it would take for them to realize how terrible of a person Tommy really was. Of course, true to the promise he made himself, Tommy ignored that part of himself, and instead laughed and enjoyed the company.

Eventually, the trio found themselves in the training gym in the lower level of Phil’s building. It was an expansive space with pads thoroughly cushioning the floor, walls, and even ceiling. Hanging on the wall by the door were an abundance of fake weapons, mostly consisting of axes, swords, and other archaic things that had little appeal to Tommy. The room itself was brightly lit and the air smelled vaguely like that of a hospital with the underlying reek of sweat and blood. All in all, it was a far cry from the dingy basement where Tommy learned how to fight, and honestly it looked a bit too flammable for Tommy to use. Yet, as they walked into the center of the room, Tubbo turned to Tommy with a slightly unhinged grin.

“Are you up to a bit of sparring?” The words were spoken lightly, but Tommy couldn’t help but grimace.

“I don’t think this room is fireproof.” Tommy shook his head. “And I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“I’m being trained by Ares, a hero whose whole power is like blood and fighting, I doubt you could hurt me any more than he already has.” Ranboo stated simply, his thin tail flicking back and forth as if he was excited.

“Plus, this room is everything proof. Phil made sure of it when it was built.” Tubbo added, “Also, Phil says sparring is a good way to bond and learn how to fight better with your teammates.”

“If you want to fight me, then go for it, just don’t cry when you get burned.” Tommy felt himself crumble against his new friends' reasoning. It didn’t help that Tommy was also excited at the prospect of sparring again, after all the act itself brought back pleasant memories of the vigilante band he was in before Dream took him.

“We’ll see if you can even stand a chance.” Tubbo playfully jeered, already summoning a semi transparent pale green disk roughly the size of a garbage can lid and a matching sword-esque shape to match.

“Any rules I should know?” Tommy instinctively flexed his hands, readying the claws that had yet to grow back in their fully ugly glory.

“Don’t aim to maim or kill.” Ranboo seemed less enthused than Tommy and Tubbo to spar, and seemed to be slowly moving towards one of the far walls as if to avoid the fight. “Uhm… any others I’m forgetting, Tubbo?”

“The safe word is nuke!” Tubbo yelled as he lunged towards Tommy, swinging the sword he had summoned at Tommy’s legs.

With perhaps a bit too much glee, Tommy leapt out of the way just in time, and in retaliation, Tommy flung himself at Tubbo. Tubbo, in a rather smart move, lifted up the disk shield and braced himself. With a rather jarring thud, Tommy collided with the smooth almost honey like texture of the shield and while his ribs cried out in muted protest, Tommy grabbed the edge of the shield the best he could and tried to overturn Tubbo's balance. Despite being smaller, Tubbo was exceptionally strong and easily tossed Tommy to the side with a winded yet happy laugh.

"You fight like an animal!" Tubbo cackled as he moved into a more defensive position.

"And you fight like a bitch." Tommy retorted, unable to help the excited flames that curled from the sides of his mouth.

"Says you who just got fuckin' launched!" Tubbo giggled in return, partially hiding his face behind the shield.

Taking the opportunity, Tommy let loose a thin flame from his mouth and twisted it so it became almost whip-like in his hands. At the sight of it, Tubbo quickly stopped giggling and held up the shield that had gotten ever so slightly larger. Tommy grinned at that, and with a flick of his wrist, he lashed the fire whip and the golden flames tore through Tubbo's shield, but as to not hurt his new friend, Tommy let the fire sputter out before it got close to Tubbo's hand. The shield dissolved into a greenish mist and Tubbo leapt back with a shocked cry.

"Jesus fucking Christmas!" Tubbo had a look of awe and fear on his face. "That was awesome!"

"I know right? I'm the coolest mother fucker in L'manberg." Tommy chuckled at Tubbo's reaction and made a show of breathing out more flames into his hands and sculpting them into convoluted shapes. "I am a human flamethrower!"

"I dunno if you're the coolest." Tubbo watched before mimicking the shapes with his own power. While Tommy's fire was smooth and almost liquid in how it moved, Tubbo's summoned shapes were rigid and geometric in nature. "You haven't seen Boo show off yet."

"Boob boy can teleport, what's so cool about that?" Tommy glanced to Ranboo who had yet to move from his wall. "I knew a guy who could basically run so fast it looked like he teleported."

"Ranboo, why don't you show Tommy?" Tubbo turned to Ranboo with a perfectly chaotic grin. Ranboo frowned in reply.

"I don't want to ruin these clothes." Ranboo whined, his tail curling about one of his legs.

"I'll buy you replacements." Tubbo offered eagerly.

"With my debit card." Ranboo mumbled before he took off the jacket he was wearing and tossed it to the side. "I guess I can do a little showing off."

"Don't let his humble nature fool you. He loves doing this." Tubbo chuckled with a small shake of his head.

Ranboo only smiled at that, showing off his sharp needle-like teeth before his red and green eyes turned into a vibrant purple. With the change in his eye color, Ranboo's body quickly began to change. Somehow the already tall teen got taller, his clothes ripping as his limbs stretched out, and spikes began to poke through his skin. His face contorted, his mouth splitting wide and his fangs growing larger and more impressive. The transformation was quick, but the result was terrifying. Ranboo looked like something straight out of a horror movie and those oddly blank purple eyes stared at Tommy in a way that made his skin crawl.

"What the fuck?" That was all Tommy could manage to mutter out before Ranboo disappeared with a pop, leaving behind only a cloud of purple particles, only to reappear behind Tommy.

"Boo." Ranboo's warm breath tickled against the back of Tommy's neck and Tommy let out a rather embarrassing screech.

"Oh no, Boo! You scared him half to death!" Tubbo wheezed as Tommy whirled around, ready to deck Ranboo.

"I'm sorry!" Ranboo, despite being eight feet tall and absolutely monstrous, shrunk away from Tommy's anger. "You said to show off!"

"No one told me you turned into an absolute horror show just to fucking teleport!" Tommy refrained from hitting Ranboo and instead resorted to shouting at him. "What the fuck!"

"I mean… Techno's pretty sure I can do other things too!" Ranboo defended himself rather weakly. "We just don't know what."

"I mean, at least he is his own costume." Tubbo added, "We have to like design ours and shit, while Ranboo just turns into a monster."

"I am not a monster!" Ranboo quickly reverted back to his mostly human form.

"I'm afraid to think of what else and eight foot tall beast could even possibly do." Tommy shook his head, "At least everything about me is cut and dry."

"Except you don't know what your other mutations are going to be." Tubbo pointed out, "I mean, you can't be much younger than us, and with a power like yours, you may just end up looking just as inhuman as Ranboo."

"Hey!" Ranboo whined, already shrugging on his jacket to cover up his rather ruined shirt.

"Inhuman doesn't mean bad!" Tubbo rolled his eyes. "I'm just throwing it out there."

"I hope I don't end up looking like Ranboob." Tommy snickered, doing his best to ignore Tubbo's words. Tommy was content with sharp teeth and ugly claws, he didn't need any other mutations to display his power, and honestly the idea of going through anymore made him sick. He had to lose all his teeth and nails without any pain killers to help as the new ones grew in, and that wasn't exactly an experience Tommy wanted to relive.

"I just hope my horns get bigger." Tubbo sighed, "It'd suck if I got stuck with lil baby horns."

"I don't even know if I can physically mutate anymore." Ranboo looked down at himself with a frown. "What else could I even get?"

"I'm content with what I have." Tommy allowed himself to be honest. "I don't need anything else to be absolutely poggers."

"Anyone else hungry?" Tubbo was quick to change the topic, his brain always running a hundred miles a minute. "I'm pretty sure Wilbur has like some leftover fancy food from the last time the Mayor came over."

And with that, the trio went back to Wilbur's building to raid the man's fridge, and Tommy felt the most normal in years. It was nice to act his age, and it was tragically nostalgic to hang out with other powered teens with no adults to watch them.

Chapter Text

Technoblade didn't exactly know what was going on with Wilbur and the kid from the Vault, but whatever it was, it was certainly throwing him for a loop. It was honestly pathetic to see Wilbur, a mysterious veiled hero that was known for his alluring cool, act like a chicken with its head cut off in the middle of a minor skirmish. Honestly, Techno would've been laughing at his brother if it weren't for the more pressing matters of trying to keep a literal cat boy with red eyes from tearing him to shreds. But still, watching Wilbur stutter and almost getting absolutely destroyed by a dude who's only power was being slightly stronger than the average dude plus having four arms was quite amusing.

But of course, Techno supposed Wilbur had every right to be off kilter. After all, Techno himself had been a bit of a mess after Ranboo moved in. But that was for several different reasons. Several of which Techno were eighty-five percent sure Wilbur didn't have to worry about.

"Banshee!" Techno called out as he easily swept the legs of the villain he was fighting. The cat dude, whose alias was something like Frost, fell easily with a satisfying thud and didn't seem able to get back up, for the time being. "Can you like, not suck for a second?"

"I'm trying!" Wilbur's voice was a thousand all at once as his power drenched his words. He was currently getting grappled by the four armed guy and it didn't look like much fun.

"Can't you just tell him to go away?" Techno suggested smugly as he knocked the cat villain back down with a sharp kick from his hooves.

Wilbur didn't respond as he was busy being tossed to the side like a doll as the four armed villain turned to Techno. He was only wearing a white bandanna to hide his face, and Techno could clearly see his ruby red eyes. Honestly, out of all the villains, the Eggpire was by far the most disgusting. They were literally infected by something they all referred to as the Egg and it was a mix of creepy and sad.

"Ares, stop fucking around with your brother and do something useful!" Phil called up from the rooftops from where he was toying with the leaders of the villain group they were fighting, Halo and Ruby. The two villains were really sloppy, mostly arguing with each other as they tried to bring Phil to the ground.

"I am being useful!" Techno huffed mostly to himself as the voices that lived rent free in his mind muttered quietly about tearing the wings from Phil's back in retribution for ordering Techno around. To say the least, he ignored them. After all, he had no time to bother with Phil as the four armed villain tried to charge him, as if Technoblade, the Ares, was ever truly distracted.

With a roll of his eyes, Techno knocked the four armed villain aside with the handle of his axe. Really, these villains needed to get good. At least Desolation had been fun to fight, but now that he was officially Wilbur's apprentice, Techno was left with unimpressive villains to fight.

The four armed villain stumbled to the side and collided with the wall of the alley. He easily caught himself, though, and with a grunt he turned back to Techno.

"The Eggpire would love to have someone like you among our ranks." He stated simply. "Wouldn't the life of a villain be more fitting for the Blood God?"

"Nah." Techno shrugged. "Not my style." The voices disagreed but their opinions were not valid.

"We'll have you eventually!" The four armed guy said it was such certainty that Techno had half the thought to believe him.

"Oh, fuck off." Wilbur's voice, the one that was a thousand voices at once, echoed from across the alley.

This made the four armed villain go slack. His eyes turned blank, and without so much as another word, he simply left the alley and began walking down the street. The cat villain seemed to be under the influence as well, and scrambled out of the alley quickly, following his companion.

"Really? We were about to have a cool fight!" Techno whined as he watched the two leave. The voices were begging for blood (not that they ever really stopped) and for once Techno had wanted to let loose a little.

"And I wasn't in the mood." Wilbur hissed in his normal voice as he pulled himself from where he had been slumped against a wall.

"What about the two creeps harassing the old man? Are you going to voice them away?" Techno glanced up to the rooftop once more to make sure Phil was still holding his own. Phil was in fact doing rather well as it seemed he was simply standing still as Halo and Ruby yelled at each other.

"They seem to be doing that themselves." Wilbur chuckled, his veiled face tilted upwards. But still, he didn't sound as lively as Wilbur typically was.

"Are you really this torn up about Desolation being your apprentice?" Technoblade decided to simply burst the bubble. "I mean, like, you're being weird. Weirder than usual."

"Is it that obvious?" Wilbur muttered as if he had been trying to hide it.

"Yea, kinda." Techno frowned behind his boar skull mask. The voices urged him to snap Wilbur's pitiful neck, to silence the annoying song bird, but Techno refrained.

"The kid’s giving me a moral crisis." Wilbur admitted, keeping his gaze on the scene unfolding on the rooftop. It was getting messy, but in no way that affected Phil. Really, Halo and Ruby should get couples therapy or something with how they argued.

"Have you talked to Seraphim?" Techno kept from saying any of their real names when they were out in costume. It wasn't like most of the public didn't know them by first name already, it was just a way to seem professional. "Isn't he typically the one to set you straight."

"Yeah. I did." Wilbur nodded slightly. "It's just… hard."

"Just follow whatever advice the old man gave you." Techno shrugged. "Dad knows best."

Techno only received a curt snort in reply as Wilbur turned away to begin the trek back to the car. It was clear Halo and Ruby were no longer in a villainous mindset, and really, Wilbur had the right idea. Going home was always nice, and if Techno went home, he'd get to meet Desolation without the strings controlling him. Maybe Techno could get the kid to train with him, after all he'd be a lot more fun than Ranboo, even though his apprentice was in fact getting better. But on the flip side, Techno would be meeting someone new and that was one of the few things Technoblade would consider downright awful. Social interactions were not his specialty, in fact, Techno considered himself rather horrible at them. The only people he could hold proper conversations with were Wilbur, Phil, and Ranboo. Tubbo was always hit or miss, and anyone else was always awkward and not great! It especially didn't help that everyone was scared of him, and the fear excited the voices and the excited voices were always significantly more violent.

"Mate, you good?" Phil placed a hand on Techno's shoulder. He had finally come off the rooftop and was giving Techno a worried look.

"I'm peachy, just thinkin' about the new menace." Techno decided to be honest with Phil. After all, Phil was always honest with him.

"I've been thinking about him a lot as well." Phil admitted as he began to leave the alley. It seemed he was ready to go home as well.

"Have you met him yet?" Techno followed Phil, not exactly wanting to be left behind.

"No. But I don't like how Wilbur has been acting about him." Phil shook his head, his wings ever so slightly tensing.

"Why not?" Techno inquired, only half interested in the erratic and sometimes dangerous antics of Wilbur.

"I can't say for certain, but it's possessive and I don’t see it working out well for either of them." Phil sighed as they turned one of the many street corners.

"Should we see if maybe Puffy, or Foolish wants to take him in?" Techno offered, he really didn't want to see his sorta brother spiral out of control for one post mind control apprentice. "Or we could see if Q wants him."

"I don't think giving him away is the right answer." Phil shook his head once more. "All those people can't keep the Puppet Master at bay like we can. Puffy and Foolish are strong, but they're not us, and Q actively loses vigilantes to the Puppeteer often."

"But is Desolation worth Wilbur?" Techno countered evenly. The voices didn't seem to care much for either and cried out for blood or potatoes.

"I can't answer that and you know it." Phil gave Techno a pointed glance as they finally reached the car. Wilbur was waiting in the passenger seat, his veil pulled off and his eyes glued to his phone. "We'll just have to see what we can do to avoid as much damage as possible."

"I don't like the fact you said we." Techno grumbled as he approached the car, his hand already on the driver's side door.

"Desolation is just as much our responsibility as he is Wilbur's. We help out with Ranboo, don't we?" Phil countered as he slipped into the back seat. It was modified back there to accommodate his wings.

"Old man, always right." Techno grumbled as the voices once again suggested that Techno should rip off Phil’s wings and snap Wilbur's neck for being an inconvenience. Techno simply told them to shut up, and got in the car.

The drive home was far from normal. Wilbur sat in the passenger seat, tense and trapped within his own warped morality battle, a far cry from the typical chatty man who liked to hum and sing the car ride away, and Phil was no better, being quiet and looking rather perplexed. Techno was always quiet, so his silence was normal, but he loathed the fact neither Wilbur or Phil spoke. It left too much empty space for the voices to fill and it was not fun. Gore and death was all he could think about and it wasn't exactly ideal. The voices wanted him to crash the car, to kill Desolation for this horrible tense silence, to make the streets of the city he protected run red. It was always a bloodbath in his mind, and without the comfort of his sorta family, it was a bloodbath narrated by the thousands of voices he had to learn to live with.

But thankfully, the car ride was not long and soon Techno was parked and making his way towards his own building. His costume wasn't the most comfortable and he wanted to change before he was thrown into any awkward situations. Of course, just as Techno finished getting changed, there was a soft knock at his bedroom door. Techno sighed but grudgingly answered the door, and was met with the sight of his apprentice, Ranboo.

"Uhm, hello!" Ranboo was quick to greet Techno, the slight wagging of his thin tail giving away how happy he was that Techno actually answered.

"What's up?" Techno tilted his head curiously. It wasn't often Ranboo went out of his way to talk to Techno, as the teen was mostly preoccupied on being an accessory to whatever Tubbo was up to.

"Wilbur wants all of us to meet up in the meeting room." Ranboo stated, smiling only slightly. "Something about formally introducing us to his apprentice."

"That checks out." Techno rolled his eyes as the voices whispered about tearing out Ranboo's eyes. Those eyes always seemed to know too much. "Guessing they want me there so they used you against me?"

"Yup!" Ranboo nodded, "They know you listen to me."

"I also listen to Phil." Techno huffed as he stepped outside his room with a motion for Ranboo to lead the way.

"Phil's too busy subtly gaining information from Tommy so Wilbur doesn't explode." Ranboo explained as they began to walk towards Phil's building.

"Tommy?"

"Oh yeah, that's Desolation's actual name. He calls me Ranboob but I think he likes me." Ranboo was always eager to share anything and everything with Techno, a trait that made him almost akin to Wilbur, but Techno knew it was a tactic for Ranboo to not forget the things he didn't get the chance to write down.

"Sounds like a lovely character." Techno chuckled a bit at the nickname.

"Oh, he and Tubbo get along great. Too well almost." Ranboo flicked his tail in the worried manner he always did when talking about Tubbo.

"Can't believe we have two chaotic children running amuck. Cringe." Technoblade shook his head, not exactly excited to meet someone just as chaotic as Tubbo. Certainly Technoblade didn't mind chaos, but Tubbo's specific brand of chaos was always a bit much. The kid had a knack for extremes.

After that, the mentor and his apprentice drifted into an easy quiet as they made their way to the meeting room. It wasn't very far, and soon Techno was walking through the door, only to be met with the dull sight of Wilbur, Phil, and Tubbo sitting at the meeting table, joined by a blond boy Techno could only assume was Desolation, or Tommy as Ranboo called him. Tommy, for the most part, looked mostly normal, minus the smoke that drifted from his nose and mouth, and the haunted look that sat in his eyes. He had the look of a kid forced to grow up too soon, but the moment he saw Ranboo, his face shifted into a small smile that was more befitting of his youthful face, though it was clearly nervous.

"Hello." Techno decided to greet the new member of the estate first, ignoring how the voices wanted to turn Tommy's head into a bloody pulp on the wall.

"Hello." Tommy replied, his voice even and dead. "You're Techno, right?"

"The one and only." Techno sat down between Phil and Ranboo, already feeling awkward.

"So… You've already met Tubbo and Ranboo?" Phil offered Tommy a smile that Tommy did not return.

"Yeah, they watched me sleep. Fuckin' creeps." Tommy sent Tubbo a pointed look before the both of them burst into quiet giggles with Ranboo joining in. Wilbur seemed absolutely jealous of this interaction, but Phil looked relieved.

"You burn anything down yet?" Techno attempted to be light hearted with the kid, but he quickly stopped his laughter and looked at the table with a tight frown.

"Not yet." Came the tense reply and Technoblade decided he wasn't going to speak again.

"Oh but you absolutely should!" Tubbo was quick to break the heavy silence. "You guys should see his fire, it's so cool!"

Phil and Wilbur nodded, agreeing with Tubbo, but Techno could see the looks in their eyes. They've seen Tommy's fire, and in fact they've come close enough to be burned by it. Honestly, Techno couldn't help but think this was like living with the person whose twin killed your parents. Obviously the person you lived with wasn't guilty, but their face reminded you all the same. Or perhaps this was the twin that committed the crime, and you were left fooled and unaware. Either way, it was impossible to tell, and Technoblade wasn't exactly willing to give this kid his trust. Not yet and maybe not ever.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long before Tommy had found himself slotted easily into a schedule. He would wake up, eat breakfast with Wilbur (he was still suspicious as fuck, but he was beginning to grow on Tommy), then he would spend a few hours in whatever academic bullshit Phil had planned before sparring under the ever watchful eyes of Techno before lunch. After that, Tommy was forced into spending a couple hours with Wilbur as his mentor taught him a bunch of things Tommy didn’t really think applied to him, such as: morality and understanding your own moral compass, how to handle your public image, and other things that applied easily to Wilbur but were far from something Tommy had to bother with. With the biggest waste of his time done, Tommy would then be left mostly to his own devices until dinner, and that mostly entailed sticking to Tubbo and Ranboo like his life depended on it and avoiding Wilbur and Phil like the plague. Sure, Tommy didn’t exactly distrust Phil like he did Wilbur, but from what Tommy had gathered, Phil could know things about him by just being around him and Tommy didn’t want to broach any topics relating to his past before Dream. Those memories were bitter sweet, and Tommy wanted to keep them close to his heart and not in the mind of some old ass bird person he barely knew.

Of course, with a schedule came familiarity, and with familiarity came a sense of strange unease. Tommy had felt this way leading up to Dream stealing him away, and with the onslaught of headaches and an ache deep in his back, Tommy was left anxious and worried. Was it an omen? Was it some sort of foreshadowing that everything that so far been so sickeningly sweet was about to rot and turn bitter? Tommy didn’t know, and that bothered him. It felt like he was walking about on a minefield, and it showed by how much more jumpy Tommy was, and how much smoke drifted from his mouth. The only time he felt safe was with Tubbo and Ranboo. The two were like a lifeline to him, they reminded him so much of the friends he used to have, and they treated him like a person. Wilbur and Phil tended to act like he was a tea cup about to shatter, and Tommy couldn’t shake the feeling Techno regarded him like some sort of wild animal and was eagerly waiting for the moment Tommy turned on them. In Technoblade’s defense, Tommy himself felt like a tiger trapped in a cage surrounded by well manicured walls, pleasant comforts, and kindness that was sure to run short sooner or later. Truly, it all felt like the world was slowly collapsing on Tommy and he could do nothing about it.

So really, was it much of a surprise that he ran away?

Deep down, Tommy knew it wasn’t the right choice. He felt incredibly guilty as he had snuck out of Wilbur’s house, spiting the man who gave Tommy a bed and would sing songs any time Tommy admitted to feeling stressed. He felt awful as he walked past Phil’s and Techno’s building as he knew Tubbo would be distraught and Ranboo would probably blame himself like the dumbass he was. Hell, Tommy even felt guilty for the worry he would surely cause Phil, the man who had seemed nothing but kind and understanding. But, Tommy felt like he was suffocating, and he needed to leave. The comfy and plush life of a hero wasn’t meant for him. Tommy was like a fire, too dangerous to keep around all the nice things and only fit for a stone cold hearth. He didn’t want to ruin the nice things he had been introduced to. So he slipped wordlessly into the night, and began the long lonely walk into L’manberg. And as dawn cashed the night, Tommy once again found himself within the bitter familiarity of L’manberg.

As Tommy walked, he began to mentally map out the city. It had been years since he had walked the streets of his own volition, and as far as he knew, the dingy bar he wanted to get to possibly wasn’t even there anymore, but Tommy had to hope for something. He didn’t want to be on the streets for too long, lest Dream find him or something worse. But Tommy did his best to not think about that. Instead, he focused his mind on the familiar streets and began to properly orientate himself. He had entered the city from the richer north end, and it took him a bit to find his way back to the dirtier and less safe side of the city. This was where Tommy belonged. Dirty streets, dark alleys, and everyone struggling to stay afloat. It was a horrible existence and a horrible place, but to Tommy it felt like home. And soon, he found himself face to face with the old and dirty door of the Gloop. A small bar and what had once been a safe place for vigilantes to reside. Before Dream, Tommy had called this place home, and it was nostalgic and scary all the same to be back. In the back of his mind, he wondered if anyone back on the estate noticed he was missing yet. With a sigh, Tommy decided to sit down on the sidewalk outside the door. The bar wasn’t open yet, and Tommy doubted anyone would be willing to let him in, if anyone was inside. So, he decided to wait.

The sun crawled slowly higher in the sky as Tommy waited patiently and all around him the city began to wake up. People began to crowd the sidewalks, busy to get to whatever jobs they had, beggars began to emerge from alleys, eyes hollow and barely hopeful for a decent day, and school kids began to crowd the nearby bus stops, all full of life and joy. Tommy watched it all without actually seeing it as his mind tumbled around on itself like the Ouroboros, or the serpent that ate its own tail to be reborn again. The headache that had been building in his head was only getting worse, and the subtle ache in his back began anew with flashes of vivid pain only subside into a dull throb. Tommy had a feeling he knew what the pain was, but refused to think about it and instead found himself wondering if Wilbur would’ve helped him with the pain if he had stayed. Would Wilbur have even cared? Tubbo and Ranboo would have, that’s for sure. So would Phil, if Tommy let him. But now Tommy had none of them, and that was okay no matter how much Tommy’s heart said it was not. He didn’t deserve their kindness, he wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t someone that deserved a soft bed, three square meals a day, and people who deeply cared about him.

“Is this Tommy Innit from the fire?” A voice interrupted Tommy’s thoughts, and Tommy looked up to see a familiar face.

“Hey, Guy.” Tommy greeted the green and gelatinous man that loomed over him with a friendly smile. “Long time no see.”

“Whatever brings you back here? We all thought you decided to be a villain.” Guy tilted his head, his carefully constructed face sloshing awkwardly to the side. “Desolation razing the city in the name of the Puppeteer.”

“I was being fucking mind controlled. I didn’t want to be Desolation.” Tommy sighed, resting his head on his knees. “I didn’t want any of it.”

“Well, would Tommy Innit from regret like to come inside?” Guy motioned to the door he was unlocking with a wide grin.

“I’d love that, actually.” Tommy lifted himself up from the ground, ignoring the wails of protest that came from his back and head.

Guy quickly ushered Tommy inside, and like a welcome home, Tommy was hit with the rancid smell of cigarettes and old beer. It was a horrible sort of smell that would stick to you no matter what, but it was one Tommy had missed.

“You can make yourself comfortable.” Guy motioned to one of the less torn up booths. “I just need to get everything ready for when we properly open.”

“Of course, thanks Guy.” Tommy slid into the familiar booth and promptly slumped onto the slightly sticky table. He couldn’t think much beyond the pain and distantly he heard the noise of Guy getting the bar ready for the early drinkers and morally ambiguous vigilantes who used his bar as a meeting place. It was a familiar noise, and it wasn’t long until Tommy felt himself slip into an uneasy painful sleep.

Once Tommy woke again, it was to the jarring feeling of someone prodding his side. The pain had dulled to a throb, and Tommy grudgingly opened his eyes to see who was bothering him. The person was someone Tommy didn’t recognize, and he groggily gave them a once over. The person was short, or at least shorter than Tommy, and had skin like obsidian, horns, and bright white eyes that reminded Tommy of Eret. For some reason, this person was dressed in some sort of robes and was eyeing Tommy with concern.

“You alright there?” The person inquired, “Guy said you’ve been out for quite some time.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Tommy jerked away from this stranger and sent them a pointed glare.

“Hey, watch your language!” The person chided sharply, “I’m Halo, but my friends call me Bad.”

“I am not one of your friends.” Tommy retorted.

“You could be! Say, what are your powers?” Halo grinned, his teeth were jarringly white against the abyssal dark of his skin.

Tommy didn’t bother answering and instead let a flame flicker out from between his bared teeth. He made sure it came close enough that Halo felt the heat and he hoped it made the weirdo leave him alone.

“Oh my! Fire is it?” Halo did not leave and instead leaned closer to Tommy. “That’s fun! Want to see my power?”

“No, I think I want you to fuck off.” Tommy tried to scoot out of the booth, but before he could, Halo grabbed Tommy’s arm, his grip tight and his skin rough and scaly.

“Language!” Halo chided once more as Tommy felt all fight leave him. It was like everything had been sucked from Tommy with a straw, and he felt himself slump over once more, unable to move, and unable to speak. “Now that’s much better.” Halo chirped happily. “The Egg will absolutely love you.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur was very proud of himself for how well he and Tommy were getting along. Sure, the kid still regarded him with that sort of wary "I think you're gonna kill me" look, but it was getting better. Tommy no longer jumped when Wilbur spoke to him, and he seemed to be getting along great with Ranboo and Tubbo. A relationship Wilbur totally wasn't jealous of. All in all, Wilbur was confident in their progress with each other. Tommy was slowly opening up about certain things, and Wilbur hadn't used his power to get that information. A win-win scenario!

So when Wilbur went down to wake Tommy for breakfast, he had expected to see Tommy snoring away in bed like always, but instead the bed was empty and the few possessions Tommy had were strewn about and picked through. Wilbur, at first, assumed Tommy had snuck out to stay the night with Tubbo and Ranboo. In fact, he was almost certain that was what happened. Tubbo and Ranboo had made it a habit to randomly leave their rooms in the middle of the night to stay with each other, so logically they obviously gotten Tommy to do the same. So, Wilbur refrained from freaking out, ignoring the panic building like a tornado in his chest, and instead began to pick up the things tossed around the basement. All the while as Wilbur tidied, his mind was racing with all things so horribly wrong with the situation. If Tommy had actually run away (Wilbur's main worry), Wilbur wasn't sure what he'd do. Obviously, he'd try to find his apprentice, but what would he be willing to do to do so? Wilbur didn't want to think about it. So, instead, he acted like everything was okay. Once the basement looked somewhat organized, Wilbur retreated back upstairs to eat breakfast, alone. To say the least, Wilbur didn't eat much, and after staring at his oatmeal for far too long, a knock stirred Wilbur from all his worrying and mounting panic.

"Come on in!" Wilbur called out, hating how strained his voice sounded. "The door's unlocked!" He announced as he got up to at least look like he was doing something.

"Good morning!" Tubbo's voice greeted Wilbur and the man's heart sparked with hope. Surely Tommy was with him, returning after a fun night with his friends. He was probably right behind Tubbo, worried that he'd be scolded or some shit. "Where's Tommy? He's going to be late for the maths Phil has planned for today."

Wilbur felt the panic inside him surge to its fullest and the coffee mug he had been holding dropped to the ground and shattered. Tommy wasn’t with Tubbo, hell, Tommy was probably not even on the estate. Tommy was gone and how was Wilbur going to get him back?

“Wilbur?” Tubbo warily approached Wilbur, his face a mask of concern Wilbur barely registered.

“He’s gone.” Wilbur muttered, shaking his head. Where did he go wrong? What did they do? “He ran away.”

“What on earth are you talking about, boss man?” Tubbo asked, taking a few cautious steps closer to Wilbur. “Do you need me to get Phil?”

Wilbur couldn’t find the words to answer, and simply nodded. Tubbo was quick to scamper off, leaving Wilbur to mull over the whirlwind of emotions that were tearing him up inside. First and foremost, Wilbur was worried for Tommy, but underneath the panic and worry, there was a quiet simmering anger that was hard to ignore. Wilbur had tried so hard to make Tommy happy, he had bent over backwards for the kid, and this is how he gets repaid? Tommy didn’t even leave a note. He took what he had needed and he left like a leaf snatched by the wind, even when Wilbur had done everything to make this place a home for Tommy. Maybe the kid had been right, maybe he wasn’t fit to be a hero, fit to be a brother, or fit to be loved. Maybe Tommy was in fact like his power, unable to create and only able to destroy. Desolation, such a fitting name.

Wilbur tried to shake such cruel thoughts from his mind. They were still practically strangers, barely acquaintances, and Wilbur had told himself time and time again going into this that it wouldn’t be easy. As much as Wilbur wanted Tommy to be his little brother, to be a part of their freak show family, Wilbur needed to earn that trust. Tommy running away wasn’t the kid being ungrateful, it was him escaping. Phil had mentioned in passing that Tommy was growing more and more jumpy, and Wilbur had noticed it too. Scared of his own shadow, haunted by things Wilbur couldn’t begin to conceptualize. In all the positive progress, Wilbur had forgotten Tommy came from trauma, a life drenched in distrust, and a background Phil had described as rough when Wilbur had pushed hard enough. The kid was probably ready to run away at the drop of a pin. But if Wilbur couldn’t blame Tommy, then who in the world could he blame? Himself? Circumstance? Wilbur didn’t do well without something to blame.

“Wilbur, what’s wrong?” Phil had entered the kitchen where Wilbur had sunk to the floor, his head in his hands as he argued with himself in his head. “Oh no…” Wilbur didn’t even need to say anything and for that, Wilbur was eternally grateful for Phil’s power. “Wil, we can find him.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” Wilbur grumbled out bitterly.

“That doesn’t matter, mate. He is your legal responsibility, his care is your job, and if he wants to go somewhere else, then we can set that up, after we bring him back here.” Phil sighed, crouching down to pick up the big pieces of broken ceramic. “I have an idea of where we might find him. Do you want to join us, or do you just want me and Tech to go?”

“I need to go.” Wilbur replied, his voice pathetically small and tight. “This is my fault.”

“No it is not.” With the larger pieces of ceramic thrown away, Phil helped Wilbur to his feet. “It’s no one’s fault, shit just happens sometimes.”
“I still want to go.” Wilbur doubted Phil was entirely telling the truth on that one, but still, once he was on his feet, Wilbur willingly followed Phil out of the house and onto the estate lawn where Techno was already waiting.

“Got a lost apprentice? That’s a bit cringe, Wilbur.” Techno was clearly trying to keep things light hearted, but his words made Wilbur wince.

“Word spreads fast.” Wilbur mumbled. How did Techno even know?

“Nah, I was with Phil when Tubbo came to get him.” Techno shrugged, “Thought you might want my help getting the kid back.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.” Wilbur frowned at that. Ever since Techno met Tommy, all the other hero would say in regards to him was how untrustworthy and annoying he was.

“I don’t.” Techno stated, “I’m mostly doing this for you, and the fact without him around, all the combat trainin’ would be boring.”

“Whatever the reason, we’ll be happy for your help, Tech.” Phil cut the conversation short, “But we need to get moving. L’manberg is a big city, and I only know of one place Tommy might have gone.”

And with that, Wilbur, Phil and Techno left the estate, leaving behind Tubbo and Ranboo to care for themselves. But Wilbur wasn’t worried about them. Instead, his brain began to churn up those foul thoughts again as Techno drove them through the city, following Phil’s careful yet somewhat confusing directions. Did Tommy really want to live in the worst part of L’manberg just to avoid Wilbur? Was the life Wilbur tried to give him that bad? Was Wilbur that awful of a person to be around?

"Wilbur." Techno's voice brought Wilbur from his spiraling thoughts. "We're here."

Wilbur nodded, but didn't reply. Instead, he stepped out of the car only to be met with an old run down bar. It had a faded green sign that signified the place as The Gloop, and despite it still being fairly early into the evening, people were entering and leaving the bar, and from Wilbur could see, quite a few of them were well known vigilantes. The sight sent Wilbur's mind into a frenzy. Why did Phil say Tommy might be here? A vigilante hang out? Tommy was a villain, he had made his debut as a villain, even if it was against his own choice. Vigilantes, as annoyingly necessary for their society and as morally gray as they were, had standards, and welcoming a villain into their hideouts was below those standards.

"He wasn't meant to be a villain, Wil." Phil offered as they began to approach the door of the Gloop.

"I guess mind control does complicate things." Techno added as he pushed open the old creaky door, letting Phil and Wilbur enter before them.

The interior of the Gloop was similar to its outside; old, run down, and unassuming. The air smelled of cigarettes and old alcohol while the tables and booths looked well used if not overused. And while the bar had been filled with the soft mutterings of conversations between patrons, the moment the three entered, everything went quiet and all untrustful eyes turned to them.

"Are you lost, heroes of L'manberg?" The bartender, a greenish gelatinous man with glasses asked after a few uncomfortable moments. "This isn't a place for you."

"We understand. We aren't here to cause trouble." Phil held up his hands passively. "We're just looking for one of our own."

"What hero would even bother coming to a place like this?" A young boy, barely younger than Tommy or Tubbo, spoke up. He had foxish ears, and a big fluffy tail, and was wearing a ratty flat cap and worn black jacket.

"His name is Tommy." Wilbur began, slowly, doing his best to keep his power safely squashed and far away from his words. "He ran away."

"Tommy Innit from regret." The gelatinous bartender stated rather than asked.

"Yes, that would be him." Phil nodded, giving a forced yet kind smile.

"Tommy isn't a hero." The fox boy growled from his spot, turning to fully face the three heroes. His orange eyes shone with such hurt that Wilbur thought they were mimicking his own. "And he isn't welcome here."

"Do you know him?" Wilbur asked carefully, unable to quell his curiosity despite the situation.

"I knew him." The boy huffed. "I knew Tommy, but he's Desolation now, and that monster is a stranger."

"You won't find Tommy Innit here." The bartender added. "He was taken by Halo from the Egg."

"And you did nothing to stop him?" Wilbur tried to keep his anger in check. "You let a creep like Halo take a kid?"

"He isn't one of our own." The bartender shrugged, his face rearranging with the motion. "How was I to know he wasn't with Halo?"

"Wil, leave it. We know where he is." Techno huffed, speaking softly. "We can go find him."

"Hopefully you don't." The fox boy interjected bitterly. "The world doesn't need to burn."

The evil part of Wilbur’s mind couldn't help but agree.

Chapter Text

Tommy could barely move. He was trapped in a small box with no light to aid his eyes, and no room to reposition his aching body. The rough walls uncomfortably scraped at whatever skin it came into contact with, and Tommy was half convinced he was running out of air. His fire felt distant and far away, and the pain in back and head had subsided into distant aches. The only thing Tommy could feel vividly was his own quivering fear and unease. He was not alone in whatever room the too tight box was in, and he could feel whatever joined him pressing its presence up against the edges of his mind. It wanted in, and it wanted to take his mind, just like Dream had, and it wasn’t going to take no for an answer. But of course, no matter how persistent it was, Tommy was grimly determined to keep his mind to himself, even if it meant being trapped in a small box until the end of time. Tommy had finally gotten his mind to himself, and he wasn’t about to let someone else make it their playground. Tommy was not a puppet, not anymore and never again. Regrettably, the thing was equally as determined as Tommy, and in the current standoff, it was beginning to force Tommy to hear its voice. It spoke in an oily genderless tone, and when it spoke, it promised all the things Tommy had ever wanted. It offered him a family, it offered him safety, it offered him a place to belong, all of it for the price of letting it into his mind. It could make every single one of his wishes come true, or so it claimed, and the only price was allowing it access to Tommy’s mind. And as hard as Tommy fought against it and tried to ignore it, with every hour that passed achingly slow, the offers seemed more and more appealing.

But everytime Tommy considered relenting, Tommy forced himself to see his past. He forced his mind to replay the time Tommy met with Dream in the park, the older having his arm about Tommy’s shoulder in a brotherly manner as they walked. They were talking, the words passing easily between them as the soft spring breeze ruffled their hair and clothes.

“You know, you’re like the little brother I never had.” Dream joked, his voice so kind, so sweet. Young Tommy loved it when Dream talked to him like that.

“And you’re the ugliest older brother I’ve ever had.” Tommy jokingly retorted, causing Dream to wheeze as they walked along. “Kinda glad we don’t share genetics with how dumb you look.”

“You’re lucky I care about you.” Dream jested lightly, pulling Tommy closer to his side. “If you were anyone else, I’d have probably thrown you into the duck pond.”

Tommy could never force the memory to go farther than that, it hurt too much to do, to see his foolishness, and to see Dream so easily lie about caring about Tommy. It was one of the memories Tommy loathed, yet it grounded him. This thing was no different than Dream. There was no family to be had, no love, nothing. This fucker wanted nothing more than to manipulate Tommy, to use him. It was a liar, and Tommy couldn’t trust it.

Of course, once Tommy had regrounded himself, the thing would start up its whispering again. Its promises would get sweeter, and its voice was slowly morphing into a familiar and kind tone. It was a bitter cycle, and with every time it restarted, the thing beyond the box sounded more and more like Wilbur, or Tubbo, or Phil. It was jarring, and it hurt to hear their voices after Tommy had so willingly abandoned them, and it was chipping away at his resolve. Tommy was a strong person, even he wasn’t dumb enough to not see that, but whatever this thing was, it was clearly stronger.

As time dragged on in that small box, Tommy began to sob brokenly. It felt like he had been arguing and struggling against the thing for years, and in that abyssal dark, it was hard to tell if that was true or not. He was tired, the memories he used to remind himself of past betrayals hurt to see over and over again, and the thing outside the box was relentless. It did not stop, it did not falter, and Tommy was only human, he was only a kid. He had been through so much, so much. Why couldn’t he catch a break? Why did the universe and fate hate him so? Why was Tommy so self destructive? After all, it was he who decided to run away from the safety of the estate, and it was he who trusted Dream. Why on earth was he so fucking stupid? Why couldn’t he just be happy? Why couldn’t he just let himself have nice things? Why was he such a monumental fuck up? Tommy didn’t have the answers, and his sobs soon turned to wails as the thing waited patiently for the straw to break the camel’s back.

But instead of giving in to the thing outside, Tommy turned on himself. Half driven by a need to feel anything other than whatever the fuck he was currently stuck with, and some sort of twisted idea of punishment, Tommy began to dig his regrown claws into the meat of his forearms. Pain set his nerves alight as he tore through his own skin, and blood ran like warm water. It was a break from the mental onslaught, and the broken watery wails turned to pained whines. The thing outside withdrew abruptly as Tommy continued to mutilate himself, careful to avoid his veins as he decided against trying to end it all permanently. He just needed to feel, to be reminded there was something beyond the timeless dark of the box, and he needed to vent the viscous anger he had towards himself. He was the reason for all his problems, and he was going to pay for it. It was a perfectly horrific duality, and just as Tommy went to move from his arms to his face, the box was opened.

“Jesus fucking christ.” An unfamiliar voice greeted Tommy as the light blinded him and he quickly covered his eyes with his hands.

“Language!” Halo’s voice chided nearby, and Tommy weakly snarled.

“Yea, whatever, your box didn’t work very well.” The unfamiliar voice seemed disturbed, and Tommy felt four hands gather him up and roughly drag from from the prison he had been trapped in. “The Egg can’t have him if he kills himself, Bad.” The stranger easily held Tommy, but kept his back to their chest, probably to avoid getting bit, scratched, or burned. Not that Tommy was even strong enough to fight or summon his fire. With the relative peace, and the wounds currently gushing blood, Tommy’s mind was growing cloudy with exhaustion.

“How was I supposed to know he’d do that!” Halo’s voice was closer now, and Tommy slowly opened his eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Tommy had no idea where he was. He seemed to be in a sort of cave, or underground facility. There were thick rubbery vines the color of blood carpeting the floor, and from his place being awkwardly held by a stranger, Tommy could see a massive egg shaped thing in the corner of the room. Tommy knew that was the thing that wanted in his mind, and he sluggishly snarled at it.

“What are we going to do with him now?” The stranger asked as Halo dipped into Tommy’s view. For being the guy to kidnap him in the first place, Halo certainly looked concerned.

“Well, let’s stop the bleeding first, Punz, then we can discuss what else we can do.” Halo reached into a bag he had at his side as he spoke, and brought out a roll of gauze.

“Do I have to keep holding him?” The stranger, Punz, asked. “I’m pretty sure he’s bleeding all over me.”

“You can set him on the ground, I’ll keep him still.” Halo instructed, and Tommy felt himself being dumped onto the ground. Halo tsked disappointedly.

“Don’t be so rough.” Halo chided as he grabbed one of Tommy’s arms, and instantly Tommy lost the ability to move as Halo’s power washed over him, not that Tommy had the strength or fortitude to fight. “He’ll be one of us soon.”

“Sure.” Punz snorted, but did not leave. Instead, he watched on as Halo wrapped Tommy’s arms in gauze and Tommy groaned weakly.

“You’re proving to be quite the problematic muffin, you know that?” Halo informed Tommy as he finished wrapping the wounds Tommy had dealt himself. “We’re just trying to help you, you know.” Tommy wanted to argue, but he couldn’t move, and his consciousness was beginning to ebb, eventually plunging him into a shapeless void.

The building that supposedly held the Eggpire’s HQ and their egg was unassuming. From the outside it looked like a run down motel that had long since fallen into disrepair, and was left to rot, but as Phil looked upon it, he knew this is where the Eggpire gathered. He could see it painted vividly in the place’s past. Halo, Ruby, Frost, and Mercenary, all going in and out of the rotted doors down to the basement and down even further to the Egg itself. It wasn’t a pleasant place, that much was certain, and as they gazed upon it, Phil could practically feel the rage building up in Wilbur.

“What’s the strategy here?” Techno asked from his place on Phil’s left. As usual, Technoblade was calm, and collected, but Phil knew he was itching for a fight.

“We tear this place apart, and beat those Eggpire creeps’s asses.” Wilbur leered, and even with the dark veil covering his face, Phil just knew his son was baring his teeth in a grim grin.

“Are we sure?” Techno looked to Phil for confirmation.

“Do you have any ideas?” Phil asked with a shrug. He wasn’t opposed to going in guns blazing, and honestly, Phil doubted Wilbur would have the patience to be stealthy. Tommy was in there, and Phil would have to be stupid to no see how desperately Wilbur wanted that kid back. Phil, of course, understood entirely, and while he also wanted to get Tommy back to safety, he wasn’t about to let that cloud his judgement.

“Nah, I’ve been itching to just go ham.” Techno gave one of his rare grins before he popped one of his blood pills into his mouth. It was gross, but necessary as the taste of blood transformed Techno into the towering boar monster he was most well known as. Phil was always glad he and Techno were on the same side.

“That settles it.” Phil smiled, flaring out his wings, “Let’s go get Tommy.”

And with that, the three heroes descended on the headquarters of the Eggpire. Technoblade led the siege as he knocked down the aging door with a swift kick from a cloven hoof, and let out a gleeful snort as both Ruby and Frost let out yelps of alarm. It didn’t take long for Wilbur to follow as he pushed past Phil and Techno, grimly determined and honestly a tad frightening. Even Ruby and Frost seemed more inclined to take on Techno than face Wilbur's Wrath, but it seemed Frost had little choice as Wilbur grabbed the cat-like man by his shoulder, whirled him around, and punched him square in his muzzled face.

Wilbur was never much of a fighter, but the moment he laid eyes on the two members of the Eggpire that had been sitting around when Techno busted down the door, Wilbur had felt a possessive rage spark inside of him. These creepy red eyed fuckers had taken Tommy and Wilbur was going to make them pay for laying a hand on him. So, despite his aversion to actual physical combat, Wilbur grabbed Frost by his shoulder and forced the villain to face him. The look of fear on Frost's cat-like face was priceless, and Wilbur punched him in the face. His fist connected solidly, and Frost stumbled back, reaching up to cup his bleeding noise.

"Tell me where the kid is." Wilbur let his power fill his voice, as he gripped onto Frost, refusing to let go until he got what he wanted.

"The basement!" Frost whimpered out, practically turned to pathetic putty by the sheer force of Wilbur’s words. "The final room, behind the big door."

Satisfied with the answer, Wilbur pushed Frost to the side, making the cat villain stumble before he collapsed onto the floor, shaking and red eyes distant. It had been such a long time since Wilbur’s power had done that, and in the train station that held his soul, Wilbur could feel the unwanted one smiling. He always wanted Wilbur to let go, and just this once Wilbur indulged him. It was both sickening and absolutely tantalizing at the same time. Wilbur’s own reluctance to abuse his power often left him to be assigned the weakling role. A thin veiled figure in the shadow of Ares and Seraphim, always on the sidelines of a fight, and really only coming into play at the end of an encounter. But seeing Frost broken down by whatever voice he heard was a reminder of just how powerful Wilbur could be. But, Wilbur could categorize those thoughts and feelings later. Tommy still needed to be saved.

Having gotten the information needed, Wilbur left Techno and Phil to handle Ruby and made his way towards the stairs as he didn't have an ounce of trust for the ancient looking elevator. The stairs were surprisingly clear and well maintained in comparison to the rest of the rundown motel, and Wilbur found himself easily descending into the deaths of the building totally uncontested. But as the stairs stretched downward, the air became ripe with the sickly sweet scent of rot, the faintest hints of sulfur, and the damp smell of mildew. The nauseating combination was enough to make Wilbur's spine crawl and his stomach churn, but yet he persisted and he did so, Wilbur formally entered the den of the Egg and he knew it immediately. The thing practically sang to him as Wilbur walked down the empty basement hall, the walls choked by rubbery blood red vines. It sang of the train station beyond death, it sang of Tommy, his brother to be, and it made sweet promises Wilbur knew it couldn't keep. It promised Wilbur that it would destroy the root of all his problems, the two figures eager to take his spot upon his death and the damnable train station that haunted his dreams, and it promised him the world bent to his every passing fancy and self centered need. But Wilbur didn't bother to listen. He had long accepted his predicament, and he didn't want the world. He wanted his family, and the Egg whose song fell on deaf ears, was preventing that.

As Wilbur finally came upon the door at the end of the hall, the Egg went quiet, its song snuffed out abruptly, and before Wilbur could even reach out to touch the door, it swung open. The room beyond was infested with the blood vines, and the putrid smell was thick in the stale air. The Egg sat proudly in one of the back corners, silent and waiting, and not far from it, Wilbur saw Halo and Mercenary. The last two villains of the Eggpire had yet to notice Wilbur and were instead quietly talking as Halo tended to an unconscious body on the ground.

"Tommy?" Wilbur couldn't help but call out as he spotted the kid on the ground; his face was deathly pale, his hands and claws were soaked in blood and white gauze that bore crimson splotches wound up his forearms. Tommy was hurt, and Wilbur was enraged.

"Banshee?" Halo was the first to speak, his voice wavering ever so slightly as Wilbur stepped into the room.

"Get away from him." Wilbur snarled, his power twisting about his words. "Both of you." Mercenary didn't even flinch and swiftly moved away, clearly not looking to get his ass handed to him.

"We can talk about this!" Halo was quick to scramble away from Tommy and instead pressed his back up against the Egg as if it could save him from Wilbur's growing wrath. "He's one of ours, I promise!"

Wilbur ignored Halo, and instead approached Tommy's unconscious form and knelt down beside him. The boy looked oddly peaceful, laying among the ugly red vines, his face lacking that distant far away look or the scrunched up expression of vivid distrust. But that within itself worried Wilbur and he quickly began to check Tommy over. Thankfully, the kid was still breathing, and with the exception of the carefully wrapped wounds on his arms, and a few bruises, he seemed okay. This filled Wilbur with relief, and he scooped Tommy up into his arms. Despite the week and a half of three meals a day, the kid was still scarily light, but Wilbur tried his best to ignore it as he turned his attention back to the villains.

“Stay here, do not fucking move an inch.” Wilbur commanded, his voice deathly calm. The Egg tried once more to sing in Wilbur's ears, but Wilbur didn't bother to listen and simply left the room, his baby brother in his arms.

Chapter Text

Tommy knew he wasn't awake, and he understood he was dreaming, but it was a pleasant dream, so he didn't mind or bother to wake up. His eyes were closed, and he was sprawled across someone's lap, and the owner of said lap was running their hands through his hair quietly. There was no noise, no worries, nothing but the calming feeling of fingers massaging his scalp and the distant but warm presence of the person he couldn't see. He felt safe, and he felt loved, and for once, Tommy wasn’t afraid.

"You know I'll find you again." The person who was playing with Tommy's hair spoke, his voice so distantly familiar. Tommy wanted to feel afraid of the voice, but how could he when everything was so nice? "I miss my useful firestarter, and you know my plans won't work without you."

"I know." Tommy felt himself respond without wanting or intending to. "You always win."

"At least you remember one thing I told you." The voice hummed, "Even without the strings to guide you, and my brilliant plans to aid you, you will always be my pawn, my sweet marionette."

"Always." Tommy, despite the calm and safety that burrowed into his being, felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to open his eyes, to retaliate against whoever was with him in this empty void.

"Good." The voice removed his hand from Tommy's hair. "Go ahead and wake up now."

And with a start, Tommy jostled himself awake. He was no longer in the box, and he was far from the thing that wanted inside his brain, but he was not in the bed he had in Wilbur’s house, or a cell in the Vault. Instead, the room around him was blank and boring with white walls, a sterile smell, and bed with paper thin sheets. It was a hospital room, if Tommy had to guess, but he had no idea how he had gotten there. After all, his last memories were unpleasant to say the least, and definitely hadn’t alluded to him going to a hospital any time soon. It was worrying in a way Tommy didn’t appreciate, and once he was certain he could even move, he pushed himself up from the bed, only to promptly slump back onto the mattress. There was something heavy on his back that made moving hard, and trying to push up with his injured arms was too much. The sparks of vivid pain were a shock, and the unexpected weight was a startling discovery.

“Hey, you awake?” A sleepy voice broke through the quiet of the room, making Tommy jump. He looked for the owner of the voice as much as he could without straining his arms, and quickly saw Wilbur slumped in a chair off to the side. He looked tired, but was giving Tommy a bit of a sleepy smile.

“How?” Tommy had no idea how in the world Wilbur could have found him, and the questions and instant bout of shame quickly silenced his tongue. He had ran away from Wilbur, spited the man who had done so much for him, and Wilbur still went out of his way to save him it seemed. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Wilbur frowned, tilting his head.

“I ran away, and you had to come find me, and I fucked up.” Tommy mumbled, shaking his head. Nervous smoke spilled from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Wilbur waved a hand dismissively, “You probably had your reasons and the main thing is that you’re okay.”

“Am I? I feel like I can’t fucking move.” Tommy tried again to sit up fully, but whatever was on his back didn’t move and continued to weigh down on him.

“Oh! Here, let me help.” Wilbur was grinning in a way Tommy found to be a bit unsettling, but he stayed still as the man rose up from his chair and began to touch the thing on Tommy’s back. Distantly, he could feel hands lifting the thing up and spreading it out gently, distributing the weight more evenly, though not removing it. “Phil said you’d have trouble feeling 'em’ for a few days, but he showed me how to move them without hurting you.” Wilbur explained cheerily, only furthering Tommy’s confusion.

“What?” Tommy strained his neck to look over his shoulder, ignoring the complaint in his arms as he did so. Despite his awkward vantage point, Tommy could see a single reddish scaled appendage being forced to extend out. It took a moment for the scene to register before Tommy frowned. The new limb was a wing, a leathery red wing.

“You’re honestly lucky we had to take you to the hospital after we arrested those creepy egg fucks.” Wilbur continued talking as Tommy stared at the offending wing, “You hadn’t told us you were going through a mutation, and if you had continued that, your wings would’ve had to tear themselves from your back.”

“What the fuck.” Was all Tommy could manage. He had wings, he had fucking wings, and they were fucking demonic looking. He probably looked like a goddamn nightmare.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Wilbur continued, “But hey, Phil is excited about your wings. He’s always wanted someone to fly with, and let me tell you, he is already making plans to help you get started as soon as you gain proper feeling in them.”

Tommy didn’t reply, his eyes glued to the wing he was seeing, familiar contempt rising in him. He had felt the same way about his claws, ugly and brutal as they were, but this was so much more. The wings coming from his back were ugly, and looked horrific. They reminded Tommy of a dragon, or a devil, and it sat uneasily with him. He hadn’t even wanted anything else to mutate with him, he didn’t want to look any more inhuman then he did, but here were a pair of wings, mocking and noticeable. At least if they had been feathered, Tommy reckoned he would’ve been okay with them. Phil had feathered wings, and while Tommy hated Phil’s ability, the man himself was just fine.

“Tommy, you alright? You look a bit sick.” Wilbur reached out, leaving Tommy’s right wing to sag uncomfortably, and brushed his hand against his forehead in an act of a familiarity Tommy hadn’t expected.

“I uhm, just, shocked is all.” Tommy stuttered out, having been caught off guard by Wilbur so casually touching him. “Didn’t think I’d get wings.”

“You didn’t only get wings.” Wilbur hummed, “You got horns too. Just two little ones right here.” Wilbur tapped two bumps on Tommy’s forehead and Tommy felt like screaming. Horns? Of all things to couple with fucking demonic looking wings? Even if Tommy was going to allow himself to be a hero, he certainly would never look the part. “Gotta say, you, Ranboo, and Tubbo are going to make quite the intimidating team with how you three are growing.”

“How are they?” Tommy found himself slightly perking up at the mention of his friends. “Ranboo and Tubbo?”

“They were both worried sick.” Wilbur pulled his hand away from Tommy’s face to rearrange his wings again to a more comfortable position. “But they’re glad you’re okay, and are eagerly waiting for you to get back. That is, if you want to go back to the estate.”

“You’d still want me around?” Tommy honestly didn’t expect Wilbur to want him back after this stunt.

“Of course, you’re like a little brother to me, you know.” Wilbur smiled but Tommy shuddered. Dream always loved to tell Tommy how much like brothers they were. “I want to have you around, and even though you can be a little shit, I don’t think I’d want anyone else to be my apprentice.”

“You’re a strange person, Wilbur.” Tommy muttered out, pushing past the rising fear in his chest. Wilbur wasn’t Dream. Wilbur hadn’t lied to Tommy so far, so why would he start? Wilbur wasn’t going to betray him, not after all the things Wilbur had done so far, it would be counter productive. Right?

“I get that a lot.” Wilbur laughed lightly before moving away from Tommy’s side. “Look, I’ve got to go let the doctor know you’re awake now. I’ll be right back.” And with that, Wilbur left the room, leaving Tommy with his own dangerous thoughts.

After all, there was much to ponder, and much to agonize over when there wasn’t anyone else to ground Tommy’s thoughts. Without someone to talk to, or music to blast, or even a TV to watch, Tommy found himself traversing dark trains of thought. Wilbur was growing to be so much like Dream, but not the horrible parts, at least not yet. Wilbur reminded Tommy of the Dream that would walk with him through the park, take him to the movies, and buy him fast food, but that begged the question of if and when Wilbur would change that narrative. Would he even flip that invisible switch that turned Dream cold and manipulative? Tommy secretly hoped not. Wilbur, so far, had been kind, and he even went out of his way to save Tommy after he ran away without so much as a note. Wilbur didn’t get mad when Tommy spent most of his time with Tubbo and Ranboo, and while he seemed jealous at times, he didn’t seem to mind it when Tommy spent extra time going over lessons with Phil or training with Techno. It was a change of pace that Tommy didn’t mind, and that didn’t leave him skittish and scared. Not once had Wilbur raised a hand to hit him, or even yelled at him, hell, Wilbur didn’t even use his power on Tommy despite how easy it would be to make him a model apprentice with a few words.

Perhaps Wilbur had really truly meant it when he called Tommy his little brother, and maybe Tommy had a chance at a family he always wanted.

Chapter Text

Tubbo wasn't exactly sure how to feel about hospitals. For one, he loved hospital dramas on TV, and in turn, found the bustle of nurses, doctors, and patients interesting. But on the other hand, whenever Tubbo found himself in those blank white halls, he knew something was going wrong. Tubbo had never gone to a hospital for a good reason, with the most recent trip (before Tommy) having been to bid his father a final goodbye. So, as Tubbo made his way to Tommy's hospital room, it was no surprise that he was a bit nervous, and it certainly didn't help that Ranboo was practically radiating a sort of nervous panic as they walked hand in hand through the halls, closely shadowed by Phil. Ranboo had always hated hospitals.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Ranboo's voice was full of static and shaky, and his hand tightened its grip on Tubbo's as he spoke.

"Phil said his injuries were minor, Boo." Tubbo tried his best to be calm for the both of them as they neared the wing Tommy was being kept in. "They're just keeping and eye on his new wings."

"He got wings?" Ranboo sounded honestly confused and Tubbo nodded. They had explained the situation to Ranboo about five times now, but the poor boy kept forgetting due to all his worrying. Anxiety seemed to make Ranboo's memory even worse.

"Yeah, he's going to be fine." Tubbo spoke like he was trying to convince himself. Sure, he trusted Phil and Wilbur to not lie to him, but the last time someone had said they were going to get better, and that everything was fine, Tubbo's dad went on and died anyway.

Ranboo simply nodded in response, his long tail didn't cease its nervous lashing, but he seemed a tad calmer now.

After that, it didn't take long before they were entering Tommy's room. The door had been closed, but Tubbo pushed it open, earning him a quiet grumble from Wilbur who seemed to be half asleep in a chair. The older man seemed to perk up a bit at Tubbo entering the room, but Tubbo didn't care about Wilbur, instead his eyes were glued onto Tommy.

Their friend was asleep on his stomach. For once, Tommy looked relatively peaceful, though his brow was still a bit furrowed as he slept. And honestly, if it weren’t for the gauze that was wrapped around his forearms and the thick bandages at the base of his wings, Tubbo would've assumed he was just fine. Of course, speaking of wings, the twin appendages coming from Tommy's back were reddish in color (or were they still stained with blood?) and reminded Tubbo of a bat's wings with the thin membrane connecting all the long finger-like bones. Tommy, apparently, had horns now as well. They weren't quite as impressive as Ranboo's or Tubbo's own, and were more like a pair of small faux devil horns affixed to his forehead with spirit gum. They, much like his wings, were red in color.

Intrigued by his friend's new appearance, Tubbo approached Tommy's sleeping form, Ranboo not far behind, and began to closer inspect his wings, but as he leaned down to look, Wilbur suddenly shifted in his chair.

"Don't you fucking dare wake him." Wilbur snarled in a groggy half whisper that startled both Tubbo and Ranboo. A hint of power laced the words, and Tubbo loathed just how much like his father Wilbur sounded.

"Wilbur." Phil chided quietly. "They're fine. They're not going to wake him up."

"Hmph." Was all the response Wilbur gave. Tubbo could practically feel the man glaring daggers into his back.

"I'm already fucking awake." Tommy's groggy voice interjected, and Tubbo couldn't help the relieved sigh that escaped him as his friend sat up in the bed, his wings shifting awkwardly as he did so. "Loud ass pricks."

"You're the loud one, here." Tubbo joked, smiling widely. "Bitch."

"Ugh, you not only woke me up, but you also brought boob boy?" Tommy huffed, eyeing Ranboo with clearly faked contempt, unable to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips.

"Oh. Harsh." Ranboo laughed lightly before joining Tubbo at Tommy’s bedside. "If you want, I can leave?"

"Yeah, please do." Tommy huffed before awkwardly grabbing Ranboo's sleeve, clearly trying to prevent him from leaving. "Fuckin' looser."

"How are you holding up, Toms?" Phil piped up, "Any feeling in your wings yet?"

"I'm doing alright." Tommy snorted, "If only Wilbur would leave me alone."

"You literally asked me to stay with you." Wilbur huffed.

"Yeah, he's a clingy fuck." Tommy rolled his eyes and Tubbo could only question when in the last two days had they gotten so close. "As for my wings, I don't know. I can feel when Wil touches them, but I can't move them myself."

"You'll get there, mate." Phil spoke with clear certainty that implied he knew that for a fact. "You're gonna love flying."

"I can imagine." Tommy's face quickly turned to a mix of disgust and subtle sadness at the mention of flying.

"Are you going to be coming back home?" Ranboo was quick to cover up the strange moment, his tail flicking worriedly as he took Tommy's hand from his sleeve and instead held it in his own.

"Once they let me go, I'll be home." Tommy answered quickly, shooting Wilbur an uncertain glance. Wilbur replied with an easy nod and small smile.

"Good, you didn't have a choice." Tubbo added, "I was going to drag you back home no matter what. We're a trio and you can't escape us."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, even if you're stupid and ugly, you're one of us." Tubbo patted Tommy on the shoulder only to get promptly smacked by one of his wings as Tommy began to sputter.

"I am not fucking ugly! I am so attractive and hot!" Tommy began to shout, "I can't believe you'd ruin our moment with such lies! I should sue you for slander!" Tubbo couldn't help but laugh as Tommy continued to loudly rant.

"Can we not yell? You'll worry the nurses." Phil attempted to intervene.

"God, I can't believe you spend a whole five minutes with Tommy and you've got him yelling." Wilbur groaned, sinking deeper into the uncomfortable looking chair. "I missed it when the gremlin was asleep."

After that, Tubbo and Ranboo continued to hang out with Tommy. Tubbo couldn't help the strange feeling that something had shifted in his friend's mentality, but Tommy seemed more happy and relaxed than he had ever, so Tubbo wasn't exactly complaining. It was like Tommy finally got it through his thick skull that they didn't want to hurt him, and he was actually wanted and safe. While that was a good thing, Tubbo couldn't help but find it jarring and a bit worrying. Tommy had built up so many walls, so what happened to tear them all down? Tubbo couldn't help but suspect Wilbur may have had something to do with this shift in Tommy, and Tubbo didn't like the implications of that.

But, Tubbo could worry about that later. For now, Tommy was smiling and okay, and really that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

Out of all the places Wilbur wanted to be, a meeting was not one of them. After all, Wilbur had better things to do, like being at the hospital with Tommy, and making sure the kid didn’t extend his stay by being stupid (truly, Wilbur was convinced Tommy was going to reopen the incisions on his back, he just couldn't stay still), but according to Phil, Techno, and literally everyone else, apparently Wilbur was needed, and it was good to spend some time apart from Tommy. Two very incorrect statements if you asked Wilbur. But of course no one asked, leaving Wilbur to sit at the stupid round table of "Good Guys" as they discussed in circles on the best way to capture the Puppeteer.

"Wilbur, are you listening?" Q's voice interrupted Wilbur's wandering thoughts. The head vigilante sounded irritated, and Wilbur couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"One hundred percent, Big Q, you have my undivided attention." Wilbur responded back, sickly sweet. He really didn't want to be here.

"Wil, at least try to be professional and listen." Phil sighed from his spot at the head of the table. "This meeting is important."

"Did I miss anything that wasn't something we went over last month?" Wilbur huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You actually did." Puffy piped up, her voice was less exasperated than Quackity's and Phil's, but even her usual calm demeanor seemed a bit annoyed. "I know you're focused on Desolation right now, but big things are happening, and as one of the top heroes, you need to know."

"Then enlighten me again, would you?" Wilbur held back a sigh.

"If you had been paying attention, you'd know that my people have spotted Helios and Hypnos." Quackity explained quickly, still glaring daggers at Wilbur. "And that crime rates, mundane and villainous, have lulled considerably."

"The quiet before the storm." Techno added, chuckling softly.

"And we have good reason to suspect it's something the Puppet Master is planning." Phil concluded, "And that it may have something to do with Desolation."

"What do you mean?" That certainly grabbed Wilbur's attention.

"He's lost his favorite tool of destruction." Puffy sighed, "And I think he's going to make it clear he wants it back."

"Then why are we wasting time in this meeting? We could be preparing or doing literally anything else." Wilbur desperately wanted to say "and protect Tommy", but he refrained. They didn't have to know Desolation was his apprentice, and it was safer if everyone thought Tommy was still in the Vault. If Tommy's identity was still a secret, this is;Wilbur didn't know if anyone had spilled those beans yet.

"There's not much to do." Quackity huffed. "All we can do is wait. It's not like any of us has seen into the future recently." The vigilante glanced at his fiance, a fellow vigilante dubbed Hourglass (Wilbur didn't know his real name), and then flicked his gaze to Phil.

"The future is a difficult thing to look at…" Hourglass began slowly, "Because it isn't decided yet, it turns events and timelines into a giant spider's web. It's incomprehensible to really look into."

"And my ability activates randomly." Phil sighed, his wings sagging just a bit. "Which leaves us little knowledge on how to even begin preparing."

"But if we don't, civilians will die." Technoblade snorted with a shake of his head. "Damned if we do, damned if we don't."

"If it's the Puppeteer, people will die no matter what." Quackity added. "That's his sick speciality."

"Well, we can at least see about Helios and Hypnos." Puffy was quick to move on from the less favorable conversation. "Those two are a crucial part of catching the Puppeteer, especially with Desolation out of the picture."

"My eyes and ears are everywhere, all looking for them." Quackity assured, sharing a quick glance with Hourglass. It was no secret they were both eager to get their missing fiance, Helios, back.

"If you wouldn't mind, Big Q, we can up hero patrols in the areas they're seen in." Phil smiled lightly as he spoke, clearly trying to seem amiable, "Heroes would be way more prepared and capable to take on Helios and Hypnos if they prove to be hostile."

"Only if you promise to keep the Blood God out of said patrols." Quackity subconsciously touched the scar on his face as he sent a hateful glare at Techno.

"Trust me, I don't want anything to do with your turf." Techno snorted with a roll of his eyes. “I just want what’s best for L’manberg.”

"With all due respect, I don't think this is a time to bring up old grudges and fights." Puffy snorted, shaking her head. "Quackity, as much as you don't like him, Technoblade is our strongest asset. He's literally uncontested in the hero and villain scene. Even the Warden would be hard pressed to beat Techno."

"Exactly why I don't want him around my area. Guy would kill me if I let someone like Techno get even close to the Gloop." Quackity grimaced, fidgeting with the dice in his hands. Wilbur vaguely wondered if Quackity wanted to give them a roll.

"Well, we need Technoblade." Puffy retorted, her goatish eyes narrowing and a soft click giving away how the hero stomped her hoof in agitation.

"Enough." Phil sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "There is a compromise here."

"What is it then?" Wilbur inquired, still only half listening as once more his mind drifted to a hospital room. He should be with Tommy right now, not listening to old grudges and plans with no backing.

"Without Techno, we'll need more manpower to patrol that area, right? And as much as I loathe to say it, we have that manpower." Phil began, he was tense, and Wilbur suddenly shifted, his attention brought sharply to the winged man.

"You can't possibly be thinking what I think you're thinking." Wilbur shook his head. "They're far from ready."

"We have our hands tied, Will. Quackity's vigilantes can't take on Helios, Hypnos and possibly the Puppeteer and if we can't have Techno, then we need them." Phil didn't meet Wilbur's gaze. "All of them."

"He's not even out of the hospital, Phil." Wilbur felt himself tense, a vibrant flash of red hot hate blazing through him as he spoke. How could Phil even suggest that they throw their apprentices into this. It was much too early. Tommy wasn’t ready.

"You have to be joking, Phil. Your apprentices? Really?" Puffy seemed equally displeased with this.

"I think you all are underestimating them." Techno piped up, "We're the ones training them for a reason. One of them already has experience in the field. They're ready as they will ever be."

"They're a trio, we can't split them up, and one of them can't patrol because he's hurt." Wilbur argued back, turning on his brother just as easily as he felt hate towards Phil. Maybe he did need separation from Tommy after all, it was painfully clear how unlike himself Wilbur was, but he found himself unwilling to care.

"Puffy can get him into working order." Quackity suggested, a stupid smug grin on his face. "Win win situation."

"Only if they agree to this." Puffy crossed her arms across her chest. "That's the only way I'll comply with this plan."

"I can't fucking believe all of you." Wilbur growled mostly to himself. His villainous mind screamed to use his power, to bend all of them to his will, to keep Tommy out of all this, but Wilbur still had some restraint, but for how long Wilbur didn’t know.

“Wilbur.” Technoblade fixed his bloody red eyes on Wilbur, his face monotonous as ever but his eyes betrayed the annoyance he was feeling. “Get over yourself. They aren’t teacups, and he isn’t either. If they say they’re ready, then we should believe them.”

“What if he doesn’t know what’s best for himself?” Wilbur sneered in reply, his power staining his words lightly as he rose from his seat to glower at everyone at the table.

“You saying that makes you no better than the Puppeteer.” Techno growled in response, though he did not move an inch. “We have no other choice, Wilbur, and if they say they won’t do it, we’ll think up something else.”

“Wil, trust me, I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I wasn’t confident in all of them.” Phil added, giving Wilbur a wary look. “Do you trust me and my judgement?”

Wilbur didn’t answer, the words having sent his brain coiling around itself in so many knots it was hard to decipher. So much of Wilbur was so violently against this to the point he had already lashed out at the two people Wilbur would say he loved the most. And while Wilbur felt inclined to agree with those parts of himself, the logical side was appalled. This was bordering on something dangerous. What happened to the Wilbur who had been so careful to not let this happen? When did all logic and care fly out the window? Wilbur didn’t know, and that frightened him enough to bring him back into his seat, defeated and worried. Wilbur definitely needed to take a step back, and he needed to get his thoughts and mind back into shape.

“That settles it, I guess.” Puffy sighed heavily, “I suppose all there is to do is ask the apprentices what they want to do.”

Chapter Text

Puffy would consider herself a calm and sensible woman. She was a problem solver, just as much as she was a mediator, but as she walked through the halls of the hospital to finally meet the top tiger's apprentices, she felt irrationally angry. Philza, damn him, was forcing her to offer children the most dangerous job they had, and Puffy had a creeping feeling they would accept and she would have no choice but to throw these kids right into the fire. Sure, Techno and Phil could be as sure as they fucking could that their apprentices were ready, but it didn't mean it was right. Puffy in fact thought it was horribly wrong, but with Quackity's stupid grudges and Phil's word being final, she had little choice, and as she entered the hospital room, her heart shattered. To be honest, Puffy had been hoping that these apprentices were at least young adults, but no. Inside the room, all huddled together on the hospital bed, were three teenagers.

One looked painfully familiar to Puffy's estranged brother with his ram horns and messy brown hair. He was practically draped over the strangely fully mutated teen with black and white skin who seemed almost unaware of Puffy's entrance as he focused on keeping the third member of their trio, a scarred blond kid with small red devil horns and a pair of impressive reddish dragon wings, from sitting up. But as Puffy fully entered the room, her hooves clicking against the tiles, all their eyes locked onto her, and the suffocating reek of smoke began to fill the air.

"Who are you?" The kid with the ram horns asked, hid voice strangely threatening as he got up from his place to put himself between Puffy and his friends.

"You probably don't recognize me out of uniform, but I'm Captain Puffy." Puffy introduced herself calmly with a smile to hide how angry she was. Phil was really ready to throw these young teens into the fray?

"Cool. What are you fucking doing here?" The blond teen spoke up, his voice like a slap to the face as smoke pushed its way through his bared teeth. The voice was hauntingly familiar and it sent shivers up Puffy's spine.

"Wait… aren't you Desolation?" Puffy sputtered a bit, unable to hold back her question as she stared into Desolation's brilliant blue eyes. "Shouldn't you be in the Vault?"

"I dunno, ask Wilbur." Desolation retorted, wincing slightly as he moved to sit up, but was promptly pushed back down by the two toned teen.

"Ah, uhm, well I suppose to answer your question..." Several things clicked in Puffy's mind at once, and instead of calling Phil and yelling at him like she desperately wanted to, she continued on with her task. "I have a question for you three."

"What is it?" The two toned kid spoke up for the first time, his red and green eyes looking at Puffy worriedly but not meeting her gaze.

"We have cause to believe the Puppeteer is planning something," Puffy tried not to stare at Desolation as she spoke, "Helios and Hypnos have been spotted in vigilante territory and in order to keep Q's people safe, we are having heroes patrol the area."

"What does that have to do with us?" The kid with the ram horns snorted, still glaring at Puffy with vivid distrust.

"You haven't let me finish." Puffy sighed softly, "If the rumors of Helios and Hypnos are true, then we need all the powerful heroes we can get, the issue with that is the fact Q refuses to let Technoblade anywhere near vigilante territory. Which, I’m sure you know, would leave us at a disadvantage.” Puffy sighed, looking away from the teens in front of her as she prepared to ask the question that would sit heavy on her conscience for the rest of her life. “Would you three like to debut as heroes and help us?”

“Did Phil approve of this?” The two toned kid asked, his long tail flicking worriedly.

“It was Phil’s idea.” Puffy admitted quietly.

“Even me?” Desolation’s voice was a mix of fear and apprehension. “I’m still hurt…?”
“That’s why I’m here. If you agree, I will heal incisions on your back and you three will begin the process immediately.” Puffy couldn’t help but wring her hands together, hoping that these teens would tell her no, and she could leave with a light heart.

“If Tommy can debut with us, I don’t see a reason not to.” The ram horned kid turned briefly to look at his friends for their approval, and to Puffy’s dismay, Desolation and the two toned kid nodded, though it was clear Desolation still wasn’t entirely sure.

“If you three are sure, I can register you into our hero database, then I can heal Desolation for you.” Puffy sighed, her battle already lost. “All I need is your hero aliases, legal names, and powers.” She tried to keep the weariness from her voice as she pulled a tablet from her satchel.

The three shared a look, one of mixed emotions before the ram horned kid began. He dubbed himself Vulcan, a name borrowed from the roman god of blacksmithing, but legally, he was Tubbo. Puffy was distraught to learn he was in fact her nephew, but she kept that fact to herself. The two toned teen named himself Lethe, specifically after the river of forgetfulness that laid in the Greek underworld. Lethe was also Ranboo, a familiar name from files Puffy had read over in her own search for an apprentice, but it was strange putting a face to a tragic story. Then, it was Desolation’s turn, and for a while he sat and thought, his face screwed up in thought. Puffy was patient and simply stayed quiet until the boy cleared his throat.

“I think I’ll go with the alias Jabberwock.” Desolation’s voice was oddly quiet, as if he was embarrassed. “And my name’s Tommy.”

“Jabberwock?” Puffy was honestly surprised, she had expected the kid to take on a name like Fury, or perhaps Phoenix, something to do with fire, not the name of a beast from a nonsensical poem. “Uhm, do you have a surname, Tommy?”

“Nope, but if you need one, you can just put Innit or something.” Desolation, or well, Tommy, frowned a bit at the question.
“Sounds good to me.” Puffy smiled as best she could as she finished typing in the information needed. Once she was done, she placed her tablet back in her bag and did quick mental preparation. This wasn’t going to be pleasant for her. “You ready to get healed?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Tommy answered.

“Well, to start, is it alright if I touch you? I just need to place a hand on your shoulder.” Puffy moved past Tubbo, who had finally calmed down, and extended a hand. Once Tommy gave her the go ahead, she placed it on his shoulder.

Instantly, Puffy noticed several things wrong as her power seeped into Tommy’s body; not only did the kid have the medical incisions for his wings, he also had several badly healed ribs, and fractures in his shoulders from where his wings had grown from, as if he had been slammed into a wall while his wings had been developing. It was not pleasant, and while Puffy had only agreed to take care of the incisions, she couldn’t, in good faith, leave these wounds as well. So, with a grimace, Puffy let her power do its work. Tommy’s bones, muscles, and skin knit back together and realigned perfectly, all the while Puffy held back whimpers of pain as his wounds became reflected on her own body. Given how relatively tame it all was, Puffy guessed she’d be better by tomorrow, but in the moment it hurt like hell. But once it was all said and done, it was worth it to see Tommy sit up and flare out his wings, the hint of a smile upon his face as he moved without pain.

Puffy just hoped she wouldn’t have to use her powers on him again any time soon.

Chapter Text

It was dark in the web Dream found himself in. So dark he could see the vibrant green strings that fled from his fingertips, and spouted from his mouth and spun around him in incomprehensible swirling patterns before widening out into a glorious radioactive green web, with him at the center, the great spider, architect of it all. But even in all its greatest glories, Dream was missing the brightest phantasmal lengths of thread. They burned brighter than even the strings that curled about the throats of his two best friends, but now they were dark and dead, blending into the void as they hung loose and ugly, weighing down the web. It was a shame. Dream missed his little brother, his sweet fire starter, his favorite marionette.

After all, it wasn’t every day you got to touch golden fire and got to keep it so close to your chest. And such a lovely destructive flame had been Dream's. He had it in his hands, puppeted by tight vibrant strings, the greatest symphony of his web. Power to destroy, to burn, to reduce every last obstacle into puffs of ash lost to the cold wind. Dream missed the power hid little brother gave him, he missed the fire that once sung through the strings of his web. But, of course, his fire was not lost. Not permanently.

Even now, with his web so depressingly dull, Dream was pulling the strings, making and setting up plans, and scheming quiet plots. Strings tightened, limbs moved, and Dream's will was carried out flawlessly. Everything was set, everything was planned, and now all Dream needed was the fire to spark in the right place. It was perfect, infallible, glorious to the point of holiness. Dream was no Puppeteer, Dream was God, and whether Tommy liked it or not, he was going to be Dream's favorite prophet.

Chapter Text

Looking in the mirror, Tommy didn't recognize himself. He was dressed not as Desolation, or as Tommy, but as a whole new version of himself, Jabberwock, and it was a sight that was strange and nauseating. His new hero outfit was not the edgy red and black Dream had him wear, but instead it was more like a set of armor designed to look like red dragon scales with flashes of white spikes to add to the look. It was a surprisingly light outfit, and while it wasn't exactly his style, it fit the medieval theme Tubbo insisted they have. As for his mask, that too had changed, the oni mask had been swapped for a simple red dragon masquerade mask. All in all, Tommy didn't think he knew the Tommy in the mirror and he was honestly scared of him. This Tommy had things to lose. He had a family in a way, he had a life, and most of all he had free will. This Tommy had a reason to be vicious and he knew deep down that when it came down to it, he would burn the world if it meant his family would be proud and safe. But Tommy didn't want to think about that, he was still coming to terms with just how different he had become.

"Tommy, are you ready?" Tubbo bounced over to the mirror where Tommy had been staring at himself. They were in Ranboo's room, getting ready for their heroic debut. "You've been staring at the mirror for like ten minutes!" Tubbo chuckled. He was also dressed in his hero costume, and to be honest Tommy was rather impressed by it, after all, Tubbo was sporting a bee themed set of leather armor complete with a pair of faceted goggles to hide his eyes, and a pair of mechanical bee wings the kid had designed himself.

"Yeah, I'm ready." Tommy replied, unable to help the smile that spread onto his face. He was nervous, but seeing Tubbo so excited gave him second hand excitement. "Where's the Boob Boy?"

"Still figuring out his veil, I think." Tubbo shrugged. "His fault for having a complicated costume."

"You designed our costumes. It's your fault he's having trouble." Tommy shook his head with an easy laugh.

"I'm ready now!" Ranboo called out, as he quickly joined them. He was already fully shifted, and if Tommy was the dragon and Tubbo was the knight of their trio, then Ranboo was the wizard. Ranboo's costume was mostly made up of delicate yet elegant black robes with flashy golden accents that hid his form expertly, only to be fittingly topped off with a veil that was hung over his face by a golden circlet.

"Lookin' good, Boo!" Tubbo seemed most proud of his work as he glanced between his two friends, a grin on his face. "Looks like we finally made it."

"I never thought I'd even be here." Tommy added, a bit sadly as he remembered the vigilantes he left behind.

"Well you're here now, and you're stuck with us." If it weren't for the veil, Tommy reckoned he'd see Ranboo smiling. "Ready to debut?"

"Fuck yeah!" Tubbo grabbed both of their wrists as he shouted and began to lead them out of Ranboo's room. "We're going to be the best heroes this city has ever seen!"

With Tubbo eagerly leading them along, the trio quickly exited Technoblade's building and out onto the grounds where a handful of heroes were waiting. Among them were obviously Phil, Techno and a very agitated Wilbur (the sight made Tommy want to curl into Ranboo's side and hide), Puffy, and two heroes Tommy didn’t recognize. Together they were a mix of proud, anxious and bored, yet they all put on smiles as the three approached.

"Lethe, Vulcan, and Jabberwock. Our newest allies." Technoblade was the first to greet them. Despite his typical reservation, Tommy could just tell he was brimming with pride for Ranboo.

"Young, fresh and ready to serve." Puffy added, her voice oddly tight as she gazed upon the three solemnly.

"And considerably weird looking." One of the strangers in the group piped up. He was dressed oddly in a plain grayish outfit covered in an intricate cyan pattern. His eyes were obscured with a pair of 3D glasses, and a strange air of assumed superiority.

"Don't be rude, Azazel." The other hero Tommy didn’t recognize, a woman in a matching outfit to the guy with 3D glasses with fins and a tail, elbowed her companion. "I think they look nice."

"You better, I spent actual days designing these outfits." Tubbo huffed, letting go of Tommy's and Ranboo's wrists to cross his arms over his chest. "It's not my fault you clearly don't understand that hero outfits are supposed to be fun."

"Please, don't start arguing already." Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You five have to work together for now, try to at least be civil."

"I was being honest." 3D Glasses Dude, also known as Azazel and labeled "Monumental Dickhead" in Tommy's mind, huffed.

"I think all of our outfits are just fine." Ranboo interjected, already nervously wringing his hands together. "We just have different styles, that's all."

"So…" Puffy began, "Are you three ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be." Tommy found himself answering, nervous energy already building under his skin from Wilbur's piercing gaze and the fact this was all real.

"Good. You three, plus Rocket Dou here, will be patrolling the 4th Residential District, it's prime Vigilante territory, but we aren't there to pick fights with any of them. You five are there to scout out the area, and search for any signs of Hypnos and Helios as well as the Puppeteer." Puffy explained easily, her eyes now focused solely on the tablet in her hands. "If you find them or any sign of them, call in for backup. Especially you three, we don't need any injuries on your first outing. Got it?"

"We'll try our best." Tubbo promised.

"Good. Now, are you three ready to debut? To become the next heroes of L'manberg?" Puffy clearly was forcing the excitement to her voice, but the true excitement radiating off Tubbo and Ranboo was enough to get Tommy to nod along. "Then get out of here!"

And with that, the five heroes (Tommy could barely process he was among them) began the trip to L'manberg. Phil had insisted they walked to the city to ensure they wouldn't be discovered too soon. And while Tubbo and Ranboo seemed hyperactive, chatting as they walked along, Tommy found himself curling behind the crumbling ruins of old walls. This walk was achingly familiar to the not so distant past when he tried to run away, and seeing L'manberg looming in the distance did little to help. Tommy really couldn't believe this was happening, and it felt too real and too fake all at once. All he could do was keep pace and let his mind wander.