Chapter Text
“I just think we’re going about this all wrong.” One of them was saying, throwing darts into a board in the corner of the room. He was wearing his bandana for once, clad in a casual red hoodie and grey sweatpants. He scowled at nothing in particular when his dart missed the board entirely. He was in a dimly lit room, if Tommy had to guess it was probably a basement, maybe an abandoned bar. Brick lined the walls and the floors were hardwood.
Another man with fluffy yellow wings and shaggy black hair came to stand beside him, taking a dart from his hand. Tommy shuddered at the way he passed right through him, reaching down to feel his own body. It felt solid to him, so why did the man just phase through him? What was going on? When the winged man threw the dart, it hit a few inches off from the centre, and he stuck his tongue out at the other with a vicious smirk.
“You suck.” The first man muttered, stomping over to the board to pull out their darts.
“We need to upgrade our gear.” The winged man shrugged, waiting for the first to return. He rocked back and forth on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets. “We can’t expect to win if they keep having better shit than us.”
“Maybe if you learned to get better at ducking when someone swings at you, you wouldn’t need better gear.” A man in the corner of the room muttered. He was shuffling cards, playing what Tommy could only assume was... was that Uno? He had brown hair, wore white goggles, and had on a blue sweater. Another man sat at the table, steampunk-like goggles atop his head, wrists lined with watches all set to various times.
The winged man whipped around to face him, and Tommy finally got a look at his face. One of his eyes was a milky white, a sharp, jagged scar crackling down his face. He was glaring.
“Say that to my face, asshole!”
“No infighting, you two are better than this.” The final man in the room rose from the table, setting his hand of cards (yeah, definitely Uno) down on the table. He wore a mask, one that Tommy had seen too many times on the news, though he’d never gotten a close up look before. There was definitely glue holding pieces of it in tact, and the paint of the signature smile bad been redone dozens of times. “We have to keep a level head. George, stop egging him on. Alex, stop getting so easily angry. Sapnap’s right, we need a surprise attack. We need-”
“Tommy!”
The boy awoke with a start, wide eyes staring up at the mop of brown hair that hovered over him. His dream was already long forgotten, disappearing into the fog of his mind.
“Quick, Bossman, they're on the news!”
“Shit!”
Two boys, a blond and a brunette, rushed out of the room and towards the ratty old television set in the corner of the group lounge. The brunette reached it first, having launched himself over the back of the leather couch that was older than both of them combined, some of the covering having fallen off years ago to reveal the softer cushion underneath – Tubbo slid down to his knees on the floor, turning the television on and flipping to channel 2.
Tommy, the blond, scurried around the couch instead of over it. He dropped to his knees beside his friend, the pair mere inches from the screen, wide, childlike grins on their faces as they became engulfed with the picture being broadcast to them.
Helicopter footage, albeit shaky, showed the fight going on in the streets below. It was far enough into the main of L’Manberg that the little brick building the boys resided in wouldn’t be effected – not unless the fight moved more towards the city outskirts. They’d only had to evacuate once, and Tommy had been too little to even remember it.
“Look!” Tubbo gasped, jabbing a bony elbow into Tommy’s side. His other finger pointed at a tiny figure on the screen - Banshee.
Banshee had always been one of Tommy’s favourite. He thought his powers were ridiculously cool; he could scream at high frequency volumes, and he could phase through solid objects like a ghost. He’d read in a book once that it wasn’t uncommon for Banshee to make people’s ears bleed, or to go deaf entirely if they were in close enough proximity. God, that was cool. He wore a gas-mask along, with speakers built in to amplify his voice, and his suit was altered so when he phased out of existence, his uniform would fade with him. A black, skin-tight hood covered his hair (it reminded Tommy of Spiderman, sort of, though Banshee was much cooler).
The Blood God was approaching behind him, his sword in hand. The masked man (Tommy wasn’t going to be the one to point out that they all wore masks, he never wanted to ruin the moment) was Tubbo’s favourite, he thought it was cool that he had a whole sword at his disposal. The Blood God was supposedly immortal, according to the tabloids. One report stated that he’d once had his head chopped clean off, only to pick it up from the sidewalk, put it back on his own shoulders, and keep going as if nothing had happened. Tommy wasn’t sure how much of that one he believed, but if it made Tubbo happy, so be it. The Blood God had on a uniform similar to Banshee’s, but his mask covered his entire head and looked like a boar skull. To put it lightly, it was cool as fuck.
Crow-Father swooped overhead, gigantic black wings fluttering behind him as he moved – talon-like claws having replaced where humanoid fingers would be. He was the city’s oldest hero, he’d been fighting long before both teens were even born. He could fly, which Tommy thought was pretty dope, though he did wonder how he was able to live a daily life. Were the wings retractable? Did he hide them somehow? Did he just hole himself up wherever the hell he lived and live off the land that was probably just a tiny garden in his backyard? He had questions, dammit. Crow-Father wore a plague mask that resembled a raven, handmade and altered over the years. Oh, the stories that mask could tell.
“There!” Tommy gasped, eyes darting to the opposite side of the screen – a trio was approaching the three heroes, clad in similar looking getups. One wore a blue uniform, a mushroom hat atop his head. When he waved his hand, vine-like appendages shot out through the cracks in the concrete, ready to twist and move at his command. The other wore a similar style of uniform, this time with mixtures of orange and black. He had a flame on his chest plate, and when he pulled the bandana off from around his forehead, his entire body became engulfed in flames. It was some sort of magic, Tubbo had said once, that kept the flames at bay as long as he had it on. Pyro and Notfound, two out of three members of the infamous Dream Team. That had to mean that -
There he was. Their leader came up to stand in between them, dark green cloak swaying behind him with each step. He had on a mask made of what Tommy had read was porcelain, engraved with years of battles worth of scratches and cracks. The mask had a smile painted on it, though Tommy always found it unsettling. Maybe that was it’s point. He’d read once that the masked villain – Dream, the media called him – used to be a hero, but fell into a life of villainy after a failed mission. He wasn’t sure what the mission had been, it was difficult to find any real information regarding it.
Dream lifted his hand, flicking his wrist to create a force-field to block out the high pitched shriek Banshee fired their way. Sapnap conjured fireballs into his hands as George used the vines to lift himself from the ground. The Blood God had begun to charge, sword in hand as Crow-Father dived at the trio, and-
“Alright boys, you can keep watching after lunch.” The television shut off with a static sounding click. Tommy and Tubbo both groaned, Tubbo falling dramatically away from the screen in order to lay on his back. Tommy looked up at Puffy with pleading eyes.
“Five more minutes? It was getting good! They were gonna kick their-” Puffy shot him a warning look as a reminder not to swear, and Tommy deflated with a pout, “-butts. Please? Five more minutes?”
“You two shouldn’t be watching that kind of violence! You’re 16, Tommy. You shouldn’t be watching this kind of stuff.”
“I’m 17!”
“Not until tomorrow!” She huffed a laugh, crossing her arms. “C’mon, you two can keep watching after you eat lunch. Sam made grilled cheese.”
Tubbo, who’s interest she had peaked, shot up from his spot on the floor and made a beeline towards the cafeteria.
“Traitor!” Tommy shouted after him, scowling at the “c’mon, bitchboy!” Tubbo shouted back at him. He took the hand Puffy offered him and rose from the floor, brushing the dust off of his knees.
As much as he bickered with her, he liked Puffy. She’d been nothing but kind to him during his time there, and each time a new family that was supposed to be his forever one sent him back, claiming he was too difficult, she was there to welcome him back with open arms, a glass of warm milk, and an extra scoop of mint ice cream during desert. She ran the facility, having founded it alongside Sam twenty or so years ago. She had been the only adult to stick by Tommy during his worst moments. If it were possible, he would have asked her to be the one to adopt him years ago.
Sam was nice, too. He was a good cook and sometimes, if Tommy asked nicely enough (gave him the puppy dog eyes), Sam would loan Tommy his Switch for the day and let the teen play Animal Crossing. Sometimes he let Tommy and Tubbo accompany him on grocery runs or little walks around the neighbourhood to stretch their legs. Tommy liked to sit with the man while he did minor repairs around the building (most of them plumbing or electrical wise, the 200 year old building wasn’t exactly in the best condition), handing him the tools and materials he needed when asked for them. He liked being Sam’s helper, it took his mind off of everything else going on.
“So,” Puffy suddenly spoke up, walking with Tommy towards the cafeteria, “what did you want to do for your birthday tomorrow? We’re baking you a cake, obviously, and you get to pick what you and all the other kids have for dinner, but is there anything you want to do? Say the word, we can go anywhere in the city you want.”
Blue eyes widened, glancing down at Puffy (he tried to ignore the way he towered over the woman).
“Anywhere? Even downtown?”
“As long as those guys aren’t blowing up more of main street, sure.” Puffy laughed to herself, reaching up to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “Comic book store, right?”
He gave a vigorous nod, grasping the handle of the cafeteria door and holding it open for her. She gave a nod of thanks as she entered, waiting in turn for him on the other side.
“Yeah! The new editions of the Crow-Father comic are out and I’ve been saving up for them. Can we actually go?” The teen was practically vibrating, a toothy grin split across his face. Puffy grinned.
“As long as it’s still standing, sure. Go eat, alright? I’ve gotta make sure everyone else is alright.” She gently nudged him in the direction of the counter, where he spotted Tubbo, plate of grilled cheese in his hands, talking Sam’s ear off about what they’d seen on TV. Sam was grinning, nodding along with intrigue as he flipped the next sandwich over on the pan.
As Tommy approached, their conversation got clearer.
“-and then Banshee let out this scream and Sapnap lit himself on fire, and Dream created this giant force-field to block it all out and Crow-Father was coming down from the sky, and Blood God had his longsword out!”
“Yeah? Sounds like quite a fight.” Sam grinned. When he spotted Tommy approaching he flipped a sandwich onto a plate, cutting it in half. “There’s the almost-birthday boy! One grilled cheese, extra cheese.”
“Thanks, Sam.” Tommy took the plate with a smile. “The fight was so cool! Banshee had a new addition to his suit, too, I swear he did! Remember last time he got hit with George’s vines? He looked like he had a new material built in to repel it!”
“Well, you’ll be able to catch the highlights later. God knows they’ll be replaying clips for the foreseeable future, they do it every time.” Sam chuckled under his breath, green eyes rolling. “I’ll tell you what. Go eat lunch and if I finish up my work before dinner, I’ll sit and watch the recap with you two. Deal?”
“Deal!” Both boys echoed. Sam gave them a parting farewell, and off they went to find their seats.
It didn’t take long for Tubbo’s eyes to lock on Ranboo, shifting his plate into one hand so the other could grasp Tommy’s wrist. He dragged the blond over, plopping down in the empty seat beside their friend while Tommy begrudgingly sat across from him.
It wasn’t that Tommy didn’t like Ranboo, quite the opposite, actually. He was a good guy, real friendly and welcoming. Tubbo had taken a quick liking to him. He’d been transferred to their facility while Tommy was staying with his last foster family (yet another dud), and if he felt like he now had to fight a little harder to be Tubbo’s favourite, that was his business, thank you very much.
“I’m surprised you managed to wake him up.” Ranboo glanced at Tommy with a smirk, picking faintly at the crust of his sandwich. He looked as if he’d eaten most of his lunch already. “Did you catch the fight?”
“Part of it.” Tubbo interjected before Tommy could begin to loudly defend his (albeit awful) sleep-schedule. “Puffy made us come eat first. Sam’s gonna watch the highlights with us, do you want to come?”
“Those things aren’t really my thing. We’ll see.” Ranboo shrugged, raising a brow as he caught Tubbo eyeing the remainder of his grilled cheese. He slid the half-empty plate over towards the brunette with a sigh, Tubbo letting out a giddy giggle as he took the slice. Letting the other get distracted with his food, Tommy took a deep breath. He promised Puffy he’d be nicer to the other kids, which included Boob Boy.
“Hows the whole...” Tommy made a vague gesture in Ranboo’s direction, “teleportation...particle...thingy going?”
Tommy remembered the night Ranboo had gotten his powers. Puffy had let the three of them stay awake until midnight together, huddled up in Ranboo and Tubbo’s room. Ranboo had been fairly convinced that nothing would happen, that he’d be one of the 50% of the population born without any dormant abilities, but when he sneezed and teleported into the hallway they knew he was wrong.
It had been a similar way with Tubbo – they’d counted down until his 17th birthday, until the clock struck midnight, and waited. They tried teleporting, flying, mind reading, anything they could think of, until Tubbo accidentally caused a tiny explosion into the palm of his hand. The trio had screamed loud enough to wake up Purpled down the hall (which they heard an earful about the next morning).
“Not as well as Sam hoped, I can’t teleport more than a few feet away without getting super dizzy and passing out. I tried teleporting across the lounge yesterday and blacked out.” Ranboo raised a hand near his face, wiggling his fingers to create tiny purple particles that danced around his palm. “He wants me to meet with Foolish later this week to see if he has any better tips.”
“Puffy’s son?” Tommy spoke with a mouthful of his sandwich, ignoring the way Ranboo grimaced at the display.
“One of them, yeah. The older one. Never met the younger one. Foolish is the one with the lightning powers.”
“I train with Foolish!” Tubbo suddenly piped up, Ranboo letting out an audible sigh as a piece of bread dropped from the boy’s mouth and down onto his plate. “He’s been getting me to do target practice.”
“For the love of Crow-Father, dude, chew with your mouth shut.” Ranboo begged.
“Get fucked, no.” Tubbo took another exaggerated bite. Ranboo rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Tommy.
“We’re staying up to see if you get powers, right?”
“Fuck yeah! I’m gonna have the best powers. Way better than your shit powers, Boo.” Tommy smirked.
“Can you imagine if someone had Shit Powers? Like they could fly, but instead of wings like Crow-Father and Quackity, they just...projectile shit themselves into the air.”
“Tubbo, what the fuck?”
They sat in Tommy’s room. The sun had gone down hours ago, leaving behind stars that shimmered in the sky. Tommy was staring at the digital clock beside his bed, pacing back and forth while Ranboo and Tubbo sat on the floor. Ranboo sat with his back up against the bed while Tubbo lay on the ground, head resting on Ranboo’s thigh. He’d been whining about being tired for the last three hours, yet still refused to go to bed until he found out what powers Tommy got.
“Tommy, pacing isn’t going to make the time go any faster.” Ranboo hummed, though he raised his hands in a silent apology when Tommy shot him a glare.
After lunch they’d managed to convince (beg) Sam to sit and watch the highlights real from the fight with them. He’d agreed, sitting with the trio on the couch, listening with a kind smile as the three teens pointed out every little detail they came across. Ranboo though it was weird that Quackity and Time weren’t there, but Tommy had shrugged it off. Tubbo had been practically pressed against the screen, cheering on as Blood God and Banshee managed to get a surprise attack on Pyro and Notfound from behind and save the day while Crow-Father had a 1v1 with Dream himself. The trio of villains had fled, and the city was saved once again.
Sam had sent them to bed after dinner, and they’d done whatever they could to pass the time until midnight struck.
“What if nothing happens?” Tommy’s pacing started up again, worrying his thumbnail in between his teeth. Tubbo opened his eyes from where he’d been dozing.
“Then nothing happens.” The oldest shrugged, sitting up when he caught the panicked look Tommy threw his way. “Look, if nothing happens, that doesn’t make you any less cool, Toms. Puffy doesn’t have powers, and she’s still cool! No matter what happens, we’re here for you, and it’s gonna be fine.”
The alarm on Tommy’s clock began to ring. He was quick to slam his hand down on the silencer (he did NOT need another lecture about noise, thank you). Tubbo and Ranboo both jumped up from the floor, and for a moment, there was nothing. Tommy watched the clock eventually switch over to 12:01am, and he took a deep breath.
“Do you feel any different?” Tubbo pried, practically vibrating on his feet.
“No. Am I supposed to?” Tommy glanced down at his own hands. His back didn’t hurt, which meant it wasn’t wings. He couldn’t hear their thoughts, not telepathy. He felt the same.
He just felt like Tommy.
“Try concentrating.” Ranboo suggested. Tommy shut his eyes and took a few slower breaths, tuning into his mind and his body – a few moments passed before he huffed, opening his eyes. Both Ranboo and Tubbo were looking at him with sympathetic eyes. They seemed to know what Tommy wasn’t willing to admit, not yet.
“I’m sorry, mate.” Tubbo whispered, “I know how badly you wanted this.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but Tommy shook his head.
“I’m just... get out of my room before Puffy catches us up passed curfew.” He did his best to sound normal, like he didn’t feel like his entire world was crumbling in front of him.
Ranboo and Tubbo did leave, even if they seemed a bit reluctant. They both wished him a quick happy birthday before returning to their own rooms, and when Tommy was alone with the door shut, he let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The teen sank down on the edge of his bed, gripping the white bedding beneath his fingers. That was it, then. He didn’t have powers.
Every time a family sent him back, he’d held onto the hope that maybe one day he’d have his “i told you so” moment – that one day he’d become a hero, he’d save the city, and that he’d be able to rub it in their faces that he wasn’t just some snot nosed little brat that they didn’t want, he was a superhero. The familiar sting of tears began to prick at his eyes, and he was quick to wipe them with the heel of his palm. He wasn’t anything special, he’d been wrong.
He was just Tommy.
That night, Tommy dreamt of the same basement as the night before. The man with the bandana – Pyro, definitely Pyro, was sitting beside the other with the watches on his wrists – Time – and the shorter of the three was to their left, the one with the bright yellow wings – Quackity. They all looked a little worse for wear, but when Time placed a hand on Pyro’s cheek in a way that Tommy could only assume was affectionate, the trio shared a tiny smile. Huh.
The man with the white goggles and blue sweater was pacing in the centre of the room, and the man with the smile mask was the one throwing darts this time. None of them seemed to notice him, just like last time.
“We can’t keep sneaking up on them.” Pyro muttered, watching as Time began to pack up the first aid kit laid out on the table. Quackity nodded in agreement.
“They’re one step ahead of us. Maybe we should lay low for a bit, give them a false sense of security, and then-”
“That’s exactly what they want.” Dream snapped, throwing a dart. It smacked directly in the centre of the board and sent a chill down Tommy’s spine. “If we lay low, we’re giving them the win.”
“But if we keep fighting, then we get our asses kicked!” Pyro grumbled, crossing his arms. He reminded Tommy of a pouting child.
“And if we lay low, we lose.” Notfound cut in from where he’d been pacing. He and Pyro shared a look, as if having a silent conversation. “We need to actually listen to Dream. Sapnap, you can’t keep running off in the middle of a fight! The whole instruction today was to stick together, and you-”
“Enough!” Dream whipped around, loud voice booming through the room. It was enough to make even Tommy flinch. “We talked about infighting, knock it off. Karl, can you go out tomorrow and get more first aid supplies? I want to make sure the cut on George’s arm doesn’t get infected.”
“Thanks for worrying about my face too, dude.” Pyro – Sapnap? – gestured to the particularly nasty cut that Time – Karl? – had been tending to.
“Your face is fine, Sap.”
“Aw, Dreamy, so sweet of you. Wanna kiss?” Pyro puckered his lips, and Tommy could practically feel Dream roll his eyes behind the mask.
Tommy caught the glimpse of a newspaper sprawled out in front of the trio sitting at the table. There appeared to be a photo of the fight from that morning on it, though he couldn’t quite make out what it was. He took a step towards the table, only for the floorboard to creak beneath his foot.
He froze. Pyro, Time, Quackity, and Notfound didn’t pick up on it, already beginning to bicker about something – Dream, who’d been lifting his arm to throw another dart, tensed. His head tilted ever so slightly, reminding Tommy of a wolf listening for their prey, and the teen swallowed the lump quickly rising in his throat.
Dream heard him.
“Tommy!”
Tommy jolted awake for the second time that week (he really needed to stop doing that) to see Puffy standing beside his bed, her warm hand resting on his shoulder. Her brow was knitted in concern, eyes darting all over his face.
“Are you alright, honey? You were shaking in your sleep.” She checked his forehead with the back of her hand, and Tommy was quick to attempt to swat it away.
“Fine, sorry-” Tommy drew in a trembling breath, letting Puffy help him slowly sit up, “just a bad... a bad dream.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did you want to talk about it?” Puffy ruffled his hair, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. Tommy could assume by her sympathetic smile that Ranboo and Tubbo had told her about his powers, or lack thereof. He shook his head, clearing his throat. Memories of the nightmare were already beginning to fade.
“Don’t remember what it was about.”
“No problem, Toms. Did you still want to go into the city today? You can sleep some more if you want.”
Right! He was a fucking idiot, how could he have already forgotten that Puffy was going to take him downtown? It was still his birthday, with or without powers.
“Yes!” He blurted out, earning a laugh from the older of the two. She rose from the bed, giving his already messy hair yet another ruffle.
“Okay! Go get ready and meet me out front in fifteen minutes. I’ll pull my car around, birthday boy.”
Tommy was fiddling with the radio in Puffy’s car. It was some type of blue sedan (Tommy thought it’s vibe suited Puffy very well) that Puffy said she’d had since her boys were little. He finally settled on a radio station playing something that sounded like pop, though he couldn’t quite make out the words through the radio-static.
“I’ve been meaning to get this thing repaired.” Puffy glanced at the radio with a sigh. “It makes music sound like the adults from Charlie Brown.”
Tommy barked a laugh, leaning back in his seat. He’d thrown on his white and red baseball shirt, the one Sam had gotten him for his 14th birthday that he refused to get rid of or replace, as well as his usual sneakers and jeans. His jacket was stowed away in the back seat after Puffy had insisted he bring one, incase it got cold. He was munching on a granola bar, since Sam had insisted he eat something for breakfast before leaving.
“So! Comic book store first?” Puffy waited until she received a nod before continuing, “I thought we could go to a nearby park after, maybe get some ice cream and feed the ducks? Nice calm afternoon. Sam is baking you a cake, so if we get back in time for dinner, does that sound good?”
“Sounds good to me, big daddy Puff.”
It was Puffy’s turn to start cackling, Tommy almost immediately joining in with her. For once, she didn’t tell him off for the nickname. He really did love Puffy, in his own way. He imagined she was the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had, and probably will ever have.
Once the laughter died down, Puffy let out a quiet sigh. Well, shit.
“Tubbo told me about last night, Tommy. I’m sorry, I know how much getting powers meant to you.”
Tommy’s entire body tensed. He didn’t want to think about this right now, he just wanted to enjoy the rest of his birthday. His normal, powerless birthday.
“It’s fine.”
“I just... I know they already gave you this talk, but having powers or not having powers doesn’t define you, alright? One of my kids has powers and the other doesn’t, that doesn’t make him any less of a valuable person. Tommy,” She reached out to place a hand on his, squeezing lightly, “I am so proud of you, and I am so proud to be the one looking after you. I know the last few years have been rough on you, but I am so proud you were born, and I can’t wait to see how the rest of your life plays out. I know you’re gonna do great things, you hear me? With or without powers.”
Tommy felt that familiar sting behind his eyes again. Puffy wordlessly nodded at the glove compartment. Tommy cracked it open and dug through until he found a packet of unused tissues. Puffy gave his hand another squeeze as he wiped his eyes, having to let go in order to parallel park once they reached downtown.
“Now, we’re gonna have a good day, alright? It’s your birthday! Let’s make the most of it.” Puffy patted him on the cheek as she undid her seat-belt, a small laugh bubbling up in Tommy’s throat.
He undid his own seat-belt, opening his mouth to respond, when a piece of rubble crashed down from the building above them, directly onto the hood of Puffy’s car. They both screamed, Puffy’s arm shooting out to push Tommy further into his seat.
“Out of the car!” She shouted, making sure Tommy got out first before getting out herself. Tommy could see people running from one end of the street, abandoning their cars and bikes in the middle of the road. When he turned his gaze to see what they were running from, he felt his stomach drop.
Dream was approaching, Pyro, Notfound, Quackity, and Time all moving beside him. With each flick of his wrist Dream was causing chunks to fall from buildings, and though he was still a fair bit away, the smile mask bore holes into him.
“Tommy!” Puffy was in front of him now, grabbing ahold of his arm. “We have to go!”
All Tommy could do was nod. Was this going to be how he died? On his 17th birthday, in the middle of a villain attack? There was a gentle buzzing beneath his skin that he chalked up to adrenaline.
A familiar sounding shriek off in the distance caught Tommy’s attention. He stopped walking, accidentally letting himself fall out of Puffy’s grasp, and turned in the direction of the noise. Banshee had appeared down near the villains, as well as The Blood God and Crow-Father. Tommy felt frozen. Holy shit, it was really them! They came!
Tommy seemed to realize that the fight was getting closer, and that he wasn’t moving. He turned back around to follow Puffy only to feel his throat close – she wasn’t there. The crowd of running people was too thick. He didn’t see white fluffy hair, or her blue jacket, he didn’t hear her calling his name. He was alone. Shit!
A particularly burly man rushed passed him, knocking into his shoulder. It was enough to get Tommy to lose his balance, falling with a gasp to his hands and knees in the middle of the road. His heart was hammering in his chest, the buzzing feeling getting stronger with every second. The crowd was starting to dissipate, leaving him a wide open target – he had to hide.
Tommy did his best to push himself to his feet, but a searing pain in his knee caused him to fall back to the cement with a yelp. He managed to crawl towards the side of the road, attempting to hide behind an abandoned car. When he looked down at his leg he could see that his jeans were torn, blood slowly oozing from a cut across his right knee. Well, that explained the pain. His hands weren’t much better, little cuts and grazes from his impact with the road on his palms. The buzzing under his skin reached his toes and his fingertips, now feeling like tiny sparks of electricity shooting through him.
A figure landed in front of him, tall and lanky. When they crouched down in front of him and placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, he locked onto the man he’d idolized for so long.
Banshee was in front of him. He had his gas-mask on, though from up close, Tommy could see fluffy brown curls sticking out from where he’d tried to hastily hide them under his hood. He was in his usual uniform, the one Tommy had seen in all the books and on the news, and for a moment, Tommy forgot that the looming threat of death hung above his head.
“Can you walk, kid?” Banshee’s voice was slightly muffled by his mask, but Tommy made it out nonetheless. The blond gave a hurried shake of his head, and Banshee hurriedly assessed the situation. “Okay, that’s fine! Hey, hey, don’t panic, I’ve got you.”
Banshee’s hand moved from Tommy’s shoulder to his cheek, gloved thumb brushing away a few trails of salt that had fallen. When had Tommy started crying? He’d been doing that a lot lately.
“Do you have a name, buddy?” Banshee glanced over his shoulder to make sure they had time, then turned his gaze back to Tommy.
“T-Tommy. ‘m name’s Tommy.” He choked out. It was getting difficult to hear him now, the buzzing sensation growing closer to his neck and his head – he could hear his own heartbeat, the ringing in his ears, and Banshee’s voice was becoming further and further away despite the man being right in front of him.
“Tommy! That’s a nice name, sunshine. Let’s get you somewhere safe, alri-” Banshee was cut off by a sudden explosion of vines appearing from the pothole next to them. They blew the cover off, and the hero didn’t have enough time to react before he was being wrapped in them. Notfound stood on the other side of the road. Ah, they’d caught up.
Blood God and Crow-Father were in a heated fight with the other four. Tommy couldn’t hear anything now, and his vision was beginning to blur. His entire body was trembling, and he could faintly make out the image of Notfound lifting Banshee up with the vines, their grip on him growing tighter, and tighter, and-
The buildup suddenly became too much, and Tommy screamed.
A red, fog-like magic exploded all around him, shooting off like an atomic bomb in all directions. It burnt the vines upon impact, causing Banshee to drop rather harshly to the ground. Dream shot his hand out and conjured up a force-field around both himself and Notfound, while Quackity managed to grab both Time and Pyro. He pulled them close to use his wings as a shield, the trio dropping to the ground in a desperate attempt to shield themselves.
Banshee was covering his head with his arms, whereas Crow-Father had taken a similar strategy to Quackity. He grabbed Blood God, using his wings to cover them both.
Tommy stopped screaming after what felt like an eternity, but in reality, couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds. His body went limp, chin dropping down towards his chest. The buzzing was gone, at least. He felt dizzy, breaths hitching in his chest.
Banshee scrambled from where he’d been dropped, rushing back towards Tommy’s side. Two hands came to rest on his face, tilting his head up.
“Stay with me, kid! Stay with me, Tommy, you’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you, you’re okay.” He sounded so soothing, so sincere. Tommy wondered what his voice sounded like without the mask.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy could see the villains making a run for it. Quackity had taken Pyro and Time and immediately fled, and Notfound had rushed towards Dream, who was staring at him through the mask. His head was tilted slightly to the side, and memories of his nightmare from the night before came flooding back. Dream eventually followed, flicking his wrist to create a portal that both he and Notfound quickly disappeared through.
Dream had heard him.
Dream saw him.
“Tommy? Tommy!”
Puffy’s panicked voice cut through the fog threatening to pull him under, and when Tommy blinked again, the woman slid down onto her knees in front of him. She and Banshee exchanged a few words that Tommy couldn’t quite make out.
“You’re going to be okay, Tommy. You’re okay, you can rest.” Banshee whispered, and it was the last thing Tommy heard before he slumped forward in the hero’s arms, letting the black spots in his vision pull him down into unconsciousness.