Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy couldn’t say he was incredibly pleased as he walked home from school on the first day of summer. It was unreasonably hot for the end of May, and news stations called it the hot flash of the century. By mid-afternoon, the temperatures had reached a boiling point that would’ve been unbearable to anyone else.

Tommy wasn’t special, but he liked to pretend he was in his bright red hoodie. His roommate had chastised him, saying, “You’ll burn to death,” but he didn’t consider that a terribly important warning.

Occasionally, he considered regretting his clothing choice, but the weird stares he kept getting made it all worth it. He enjoyed feeling their eyes judging him from afar. He took pleasure in knowing he’d occupy their minds, if only for a second. For a moment, he’d be important to those randoms. They would never see him again, but they would wish to understand him right then.

Tommy had a flair for the dramatic in the most cynical way possible. His teachers referred to him as a troublemaker, though he’d never officially broken any rules. He loved theater, but he stayed in the tech booth. He ate his gummy bears head-first. All these factors and more made him a dry-humor enthusiast’s dream.

Truthfully, he was just bored. Keeping his life entertaining was hard, but the minor details kept him going when nothing else would. His parents had passed away when he was young, and for a while he was put in the foster care system. After about a year of jumping awkwardly between homes, they found a distant uncle to take him.

It wasn’t bad there, but his uncle was hardly around. He was a heart surgeon who traveled frequently and he was the first normal person Tommy had met with a power. He was gifted with steady hands. In any other profession, it was terrible, but his uncle saved a lot of lives. Naturally, that also meant he made a lot of money.

Unfortunately for Tommy, his own power was far from life-changing. The doctors believed it was a disorder at first and it took several full-body scans for them to admit it was his power: Heightened Pain Tolerance.

Don’t worry, he was aware it sucked.

To add to it, he got a bit of resistance as well. It wasn’t anything stellar, but it meant that no matter how much he fell out of the tree in the schoolyard, he never got any broken bones. Maybe a bruise here or there.

His skin was not as stubborn though, and minor things like paper cuts turned out to be quite a problem. Since he couldn’t feel slight pains, he rarely even noticed if he got any. This resulted in a nasty infection when he was ten.

Believe it or not, Tommy wasn’t terribly fond of his so-called gift. His uncle promised that even the most insignificant powers could make a difference, but it meant very little when they were drinking out of crystal glasses in his penthouse apartment that he’d bought thanks to his gift.

He was fifteen when his uncle had to move away permanently. Tommy was intent on finishing high school in the city of Pogtopia, and no amount of fighting made him want to leave. His uncle allowed him to stay on the condition that he get a job and call once a month.

Using the infinite salary of a heart surgeon, he moved into a smaller two-bedroom apartment a few blocks south of the city’s central. It was, admittedly, a bit lonely. As a solution, he convinced his best friend to move in.

Tubbo had been his closest friend since his first year of high school. They clicked during their mandatory health class, both taking turns making assorted jokes about the male anatomy. Tubbo wasn’t in exactly in his family’s good graces after he set off a homemade smoke bomb in their living room, but Tommy was beyond welcome to let that energy into his home.

Luckily for him, Tubbo was much more respectful in their apartment; he had a day job at the local car garage where he could do most of his experiments. From what Tommy had heard, his roommate was allowed to take any metal he wanted from the scrap pile, and that usually resulted in a variety of bombs being built during his lunch break.

To outside eyes, Tubbo looked like a dangerous psychopath in the making, but Tommy could swear he probably wasn’t. Simply put, it was just his roommate’s gift at work. You see, Tubbo had the special tendency to be able to see designs that no one else could. His powers were called Metallic Eyes.

Tubbo’s stare could pick out specific parts of metal junk that could be crafted into something else. Combined with his natural ability to invent, he was very talented. Most of the time, his efforts resulted in some form of harmless bomb, but occasionally they were useful.

In his freetime, Tubbo once designed a working lamp fashioned only from scrap metal. At a local art show, it sold for five hundred bucks. Tommy was very proud, obviously. His job wasn’t nearly as entertaining, though he wasn’t sure if he would’ve liked anything else.

He worked at a frozen yogurt shop called Ender-Ice. It was quite possibly the best job you could get during the winter. There were rarely any customers, and they were usually nicer thanks to the holiday discounts. But it wasn’t winter anymore, and there was no more holiday cheer.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. We don’t offer the limited-time Easter flavors anymore,” Tommy had explained monotonously during his latest shift. The woman glaring at him was far too egotistical to notice the growing line behind her. “We stopped offering those four weeks ago, after Easter ended.”

He proceeded to get an earful about the disrespectful youth and how much her kids had been looking forward to this specific flavor. Tommy remained politely deadpanned. Eventually, the manager had been requested. Stepping away from the register, he took a guilty pleasure in knowing that her kids would likely grow to resent her in a few years.

Their shop was criminally understaffed, but the owners were more than happy to volunteer their son, Ranboo, to fill the gaps. He was a nice kid, only slightly older than Tommy but unnaturally tall. He took over the position of shift manager if his parents weren’t around, which was typically the case for Tommy’s hours.

Ranboo was happy to deal with the Karen at the front, and Tommy basked in his momentary rest. From the back, he could practically hear his manager’s kind smile and sharp words. Likely, this woman would leave before he even had to pull the owner card.

Ranboo was the most passive-aggressive fucker he’d ever met, so it wasn’t uncommon to see a smug look on his face while he dealt with rude customers. Deep down, Ranboo was still a kid who enjoyed feeling powerful from time-to-time.

“I’m calling Corporate,” the Karen shouted as he heard bells signaling her retreat. “I’m going to report you!”

“We’re a family business,” Ranboo chuckled, sending a shiver up Tommy’s spine. “We don’t have a corporate. Have a cool day!”

The blonde relaxed into a chair, happy he was left with someone competent at the very least. Ender-Ice was the first place that had even considered him for a job. Most stores didn’t like that he was a seventeen-year-old living without a guardian, and they treated him like shit. The Ender family was a godsend.

Ranboo’s parents weren’t too strict, and he passed the interview with flying colors. It took him a while to get a hang of the froyo machines, but eventually it clicked into place. He wasn’t stoked to be stuck with the opening shifts at first, until he realized they only opened at noon. If you asked him, that was significantly better than the stark six-in-the-morning demanded by other shops.

Although, sometimes Tommy noticed a few weird things happening when Ranboo was around. It wasn’t uncommon to zone out during slow points in the day, but the owner’s son seemed to appear behind him whenever he started to. He would startle Tommy awake, and then disappear in a blink.

The occasional scares weren’t enough for him to quit, but he sincerely hated the way Ranboo could sneak up on him no matter how aware he was. It had been a while since his last shift, so he’d gone heart attack free for a little over a week. Summer signaled the beginning of his nearly daily shifts, so his streak would be broken soon.

For now, though, he was freely walking home. He had been in a bad mood for a little over an hour, but it didn’t have anything to do with work or home. Instead, it had to do with the book he held: his yearbook.

Tommy was pretty great, and Tubbo knew it. Only problem was that nobody else had the same opinion. He came across as rather loud and annoying to those who hadn’t met him, which didn’t fare well for his reputation. The other students loved to put him down in little ways, but their most recent plot was cruel. He’d been voted “Least Likely to Become a Hero” by his entire class.

The adults overlooked the obvious jab towards Tommy, excusing it as some organized fun. It probably wouldn’t have been as effective if it weren’t for them feigning ignorance. He knew they hated his extroverted outbursts in class, but this reached a new low. It was too late to fix anything now; The yearbooks had been finalized, printed, and distributed.

Tubbo had tried his best to soothe Tommy’s understandable rage, but his friend would never quite understand what he was going through. Tubbo had a reliable power that could bring in profit or usefulness if applied the right way, but Tommy didn’t.

Unluckily for him, most of the students at his high school had grown up with him. They watched him come into his powers, and they knew the underwhelming extent of his so-called gift. The more devious ones didn’t hesitate to use it against him, although it did make physical bullying a bit harder.

Frankly, he didn’t even want to be a hero. Those dickheads always slowed his morning bus commute. He wasn’t sure why they had to do interviews in the middle of the street at six in the morning, but it wasn’t fucking helping anyone.

Not to mention the never-ending stream of interviews and talk shows with the internet’s gems. Show Heroes had to be one of Tommy’s least favorite types of people. They were overhyped individuals with powers that only looked impressive on television. They thrived off media presence, and had likely never stepped foot on a battlefield.

On top of that, they were the only heroes that had actively revealed their secret identities. There were people like J. Schlatt, who was known as the Golden President, and S. Major, who was known as Iris. Tommy obviously didn’t know them personally, but seeing them online was enough for him to be fed up with it all.

The Golden President had the power to turn metal objects into gold. Using this, he was able to gain quick popularity from the money-hungry news executives. Every time he appeared on TV, he seemed slightly more hungover than the last time. Instead of ending poverty, he lived luxuriously in a penthouse on the north end of town. Basically, he was a personification of the phrase “the rich get richer.”

Iris was less of a bothersome person, but Tommy didn’t understand his hype. He had the power to switch the colors of any objects within his radius. During talk shows, his running gag would be changing the color of the host’s clothes until they noticed. He had never fought against the town’s plentiful villains, but interviewers ate up his pity stories about how hard it was to be a hero in modern society.

The only Show Hero who seemed half-decent went by the name Mr. Beast. His power was fortune, which he gladly shared with an array of different people. Those who touched his hands would find themselves being extra lucky in the days to come. Rich and poor alike would be allowed to meet him, and he never seemed to stop smiling.

Tommy could more-or-less understand why the media preferred to broadcast Show Heroes over the real deal, at the very least. When there was downtime between fighting villains, it wasn’t uncommon for interviewers to invite the actual heroes onto their shows. The difference between paid actors and camera-shy supers was kind of embarrassing to watch.

Half the time they gave mediocre answers to questions and the other half they spent looking visibly miserable. Tommy about threw his television out the window during an interview with Glitch. The hero was beyond impressive on the battlefield, with the power to heal almost any injury, but he froze up when asked about his love life.

Glitch was only one of the city’s top three heroes. They called themselves The Dream Team in true egotistical hero fashion. The other two members of the group were Speedrunner and the Devil. Tommy had obsessed over them for a while when they first debuted.

Speedrunner could move super quickly, and the Devil could sneak through the shadows undetected. If they had debuted individually, Tommy doubted they would be as popular as they were nowadays. Out of every power in the city, theirs seemed to be less of a threat to the villains.

However, during their first televised fight, they moved so effectively that it was difficult not to be impressed. Tommy remembered watching like his life depended on it. The Devil popped up behind the villains while Speedrunner acted as a distraction, dodging gunfire. If ever one of them got hit by the spray of bullets, the wound sealed almost instantly thanks to Glitch.

Any normal human being could tell you that powers as extraordinary as the Dream Team’s were not things you could be born with. It was typical for heroes to be the result of magic items. To be lucky enough to come into possession of a magical item was ten times better than winning the lottery. Some items gave you new powers entirely, others just enhanced the ability you were born with. No matter what, they were insane.

Naturally though, villains also got their hands on said items. People like Midnight, Fortress, and Icarus practically ran the city’s underground. There was less public knowledge about their powers than the top heroes, so Tommy wasn’t certain about what they could do. He just knew they were a threat.

Tommy had been praying that he’d stumble across some infinitely powerful magic item for years with no luck. Heightened Pain Tolerance wasn’t much by itself, but combined with something legendary, he could be unstoppable. Despite his personal vendetta against them, he thought he’d be an excellent hero. He would swoop in to save civilians, and do well on late-night talk shows, making up for everything the others lacked.

Back to his terrible present situation, he was about to pass out from how hot it was getting. The red hoodie had started to do more harm than good, and he wondered if he would be able to get out of work with a heat stroke. The Ender family was nice enough, so he didn’t rule it out.

Tommy was pretty certain he was only in for bad luck recently. His shit day would need one hell of a shock to get any better, though he would heavily regret thinking that later. Coming down the sidewalk were two men in their early twenties, but they were far too busy chatting to notice the blonde walking their way.

Tommy was engrossed in a fantasy world where his gift had been worthwhile, and he didn’t look up until it was too late. The three smacked into each other hard.

“Shit,” Tommy cursed. He had landed on his back with a force that made him exhale quickly. Whatever he’d bumped into had been more like a brick wall than a human, and he understood when he looked up. One of the two men had also fallen, but the other remained upright. “Watch where you’re fucking going, dickhead.”

The man on the ground groaned, and Tommy glanced over him quickly. He had shaggy brunette curls that fell into his face like an unkept mop. His clothes were baggy and old, like he’d worn them a million times. He looked lanky, like his body had been stretched in photoshop to fit his height. On the opposite end of the spectrum, his companion was the most clean-cut gentleman that the south side would ever see.

“Apologies,” the composed man said. His voice was deep, and there wasn’t a single wrinkle out of place on his white dress shirt. He had straight pink hair pulled into a ponytail that would’ve looked sloppy on anyone else. “My brother and I should have paid more attention. Are you alright?”

The man held out a hand to help him up, and the boy paled. Holy shit, Tommy realized. This guy was fucking massive. He could snap the teenager like a twig if he wanted, and that was not a fun thought to entertain. For the time being, he decided to stay silent and take his hand.

He nearly screamed as he was yanked up like he was no more than a kitten being lifted by its scruff. The man he’d knocked over muttered something under his breath and stood by himself. Now, Tommy realized the strangers were both intimidating in their own ways.

If you took a long look at Tommy, you’d say he was a good height. He was above average for most kids his age, and he didn’t know many who surpassed him in that regard. Besides Ranboo, because that guy was a freakshow of genetics.

The pink-haired man wasn’t short by any means, but next to the other guy, he might as well have been. Tommy felt dwarfed, even if it was only a few inches of difference. Standing next to a bodybuilder’s dream and Big Ben’s homeless cousin made him feel extremely inferior.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Tommy responded after far too long of a silence. The brunette guy eyed him like he was considering murder, and only then did Tommy realize he hadn’t apologized himself. “Uh, sorry? I probably could have moved too. Is your butt hurt?”

“No,” Big Ben’s homeless cousin said. “You hit the ground much harder, though. I thought you might’ve hit your head. If you’re not careful, you could get a nasty concussion.”

Tommy scoffed, though it was less about the man’s comment and more about the irony of it all. He’d never gotten a concussion, and it was easy to assume he never would thanks to his gift. Something that could truly make him concussed would cause head trauma to a normal individual.

Unfortunately, the stranger couldn’t read his thoughts, and he could only assume that Tommy was being rude. The man straightened his jacket and shot him a glare. “Fine. Be like that,” he hissed, gesturing for his companion to start walking. “We’ll leave you alone.”

Tommy didn’t terribly care how the strange pair perceived him, but he couldn’t let them go just yet. Abandoned on the sidewalk, two keychains had been left behind. “You two dropped your keys,” he called, reaching to pick them up.

The pink-haired man whirled around with wide eyes, and Big Ben slapped his pockets as if to confirm that his were not there. Tommy picked up the first one, humming at the weight that a couple of house keys could present. The second set was a bit messier, with several more keychain decorations on it. He reached to pick it up.

“Wait! Don’t touch that,” the brunette man shouted, but it was too late. Tommy had snatched the two sets of keys off the ground, and he was holding them out for their owners. The strangers’ mouths fell open, gaping like he’d completed some impossible task.

Tommy wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with him holding the keys, but he glanced at them anyway. On each individual chain, there was one key that was slightly different from the others. The one in his left hand had a bit of a gold inflection, with a singular ruby gem shining in the middle. In his right, the larger key was more silver and had a frowny face engraved into it.

The strangers had yet to take them from Tommy’s extended hands, and he was beginning to grow impatient. He had half a mind to throw the keys at their faces and leave. Tubbo was working a shift directly after school, and it was Tommy’s job to make dinner before he got back.

“Come on, dickheads. I don’t have all day,” he grumbled. Slowly, the brunette man took the chain from his right hand, and nudged his companion to go for the other. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry,” the taller man spoke, though there was still a breathiness in his tone. “We didn’t catch your name earlier. I’m Wilbur and this is my brother Techno.”

Tommy scrunched his nose. They’d gone from random assholes on the street to asking his personal information without a second thought. He’d met drug addicts who had less mood swings. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wanted to cooperate with them.

“Hello? Are you gonna introduce yourself,” Wilbur stammered, wearing the most awkward smile Tommy had ever seen. He noticed now that this guy also had a pair of wire-framed glasses, and he realized that was probably why he disliked him. The unwashed hipster vibe was far from pleasant.

“Have you ever had nerve damage,” Techno cut in. Tommy blinked. “Don’t worry. I’ll answer your questions once I figure out how you’re alive.”

Tommy recoiled like he’d been slapped. The whiplash of a single conversation with these two strangers was going to be the most damaging thing he had ever experienced if they weren’t careful.

Wilbur punched his brother’s shoulders, though Techno didn’t even flinch. “I’m sorry about him,” the brunette said through clenched teeth. “He’s not great in social situations. We just wanted to know if you felt any immense physical pain after picking up our stuff?”

“Uh…No?” Tommy began to slowly back away. There was an alley to the side if he could just find a break to run. The two probably could outrun him with their size alone, but Tommy was well-versed in escaping from bullies on his route home. “Are you mental or something?”

“We’re fine. You’re saying you felt absolutely nothing weird,” Wilbur pushed. “Have you been put under anesthesia recently?”

Tommy took one final step back before he could see the hesitance in their eyes. Using that brief moment of confusion, he turned and ran. As he’d expected, they didn’t process his leaving until he was in the mouth of the alleyway. He sprinted past dumpsters, the echo of following footsteps fueling his adrenaline.

He knew this path from his last run-in with a thug, and there would be a fork coming up. If he went left, he would be let out onto a busy street. If he went right, he could jump a fence and be let out into a less-crowded area with more hiding spots.

Objectively, the dense sidewalks would make it hard to follow him, but it would also result in him being slowed down as well. He chose to go right.

Thankfully, Tommy had a bit of a head start since he knew to expect the fence. He kicked off a nearby trash can, causing it to topple over, and latched onto the top of the barrier. Wilbur and Techno weren’t terribly far behind anymore, but he caught a glimpse of how they slowed at the sight of the fence.

Tommy pulled himself over and landed with a resounding thud. He didn’t waste time taking off again. In the distance, he heard the cursing and shouting that meant he hadn’t lost them yet. The alleyway ended and he found himself on a street with fewer people roaming about. His eyes caught on a familiar sign, and he knew where he was hiding.

“Welcome to the Captain’s Laundromat,” a woman called from behind the counter as Tommy entered. She had dyed white hair that fell on her shoulders in pristine curls and the kindest eyes he had ever seen. “Ah, Tommy! It’s good to see you!”

“Hello, Puffy,” Tommy greeted, a bit out of breath and enjoying the air conditioning. “This is totally random, but if I were to tell you I needed to hide behind the counter right now, how would you react?”

Her smile fell and he felt a bit guilty for worrying her. “I’d tell you to get your ass over here,” she replied instantly. “And then I would ask what the hell is going on?”

“Thank you.” Tommy ran behind her desk and ducked down. On cue, a bell at the front signaled someone’s entry. Puffy cast him a quick glance before putting on her customer service smile.

“Welcome to the Captain’s Laundromat! How can I help you two today?” Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth. He could hear shuffling as the new entrees walked over. “You look a bit out of breath. Is everything okay?”

“Sorry for disturbing you,” Wilbur’s voice spoke. “We were looking for a kid who we think came this way. Have you seen anyone come by?”

Puffy didn’t hesitate as she said, “I haven’t seen anyone but you two since my last customer left about thirty minutes ago. If you give me your numbers, I could call you if anyone matching that description comes in.”

The two agreed and Wilbur left Puffy his number on a napkin. Tommy didn’t stand up until the door bells had sounded and Puffy gave him the all-clear. She waited for his explanation with the disappointed parent look.

“Look, I did nothing wrong,” he stated, standing his ground. “They wouldn’t stop asking me weird questions so I ran away. That’s all, I promise.”

Puffy raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes.

“The only other thing I did was pick up some keys they dropped,” Tommy admitted. “I don’t see why that would matter though.”

The laundromat’s owner deadpanned. She didn’t respond, instead reaching for her computer. Tommy frowned, watching her pull up a website that looked way too professional for anything he would ever visit. She picked up the napkin with the phone number and typed it into the search bar.

“What are you doing,” Tommy asked. Puffy sighed, clicking the search button and waiting for it to load. To the blonde’s surprise, a profile popped up. The name ‘Wilbur Soot’ was written, along with a variety of other personal details. “Hey, that’s one of the guys! How’d you do that?”

“This is a website that business owners use to run background checks on their employees,” Puffy explained. “I wanted to confirm something.”

She clicked the guy’s profile and scrolled to his page about work experience. There was only one place listed: the After Hours bar and grill. According to the listed information, he was a waiter. Puffy hummed and stared at the floor in thought.

“Just as I thought. I know the owner of this place,” she sighed. “I’ll talk to him later about this, but try to avoid those two if you ever see them again. You know you can always call me.”

“Thanks, Puffy,” Tommy said, finally leaving. The weird men were nowhere to be seen, and nothing else happened for the rest of his trip home. The lobby of his apartment building was empty, thankfully. He checked their mailbox now to avoid awkward run-ins with his neighbors later.

Once he was safely in the elevator, he felt like he could breathe again. His apartment was quiet. It seemed like Tubbo was staying out later and later nowadays, but he didn’t question it, since his roommate was probably just caught up in the garage’s scrap pile. They had an entire kitchen cabinet dedicated to his inventions.

Tommy was about to relax when his phone began to ring. Half of him wanted to chuck it across the room and force the caller to go to voicemail, but when he saw whose name it was, he knew he couldn’t. He groaned and clicked the answer button.

“Hey, Tommy,” Ranboo’s happy-go-lucky voice chimed through. Over the phone, it was hard to tell if his shift manager was actually happy or just the kind of happy that came right before he shouted at you. Luckily, the latter tone had only been used on him once.

In his defense, how was he supposed to know you weren’t supposed to nap in the freezer?

“Hey, Boo. What’s up with you,” Tommy yawned, stretching out on the couch. He switched the TV on and muted the volume. He left it on a news channel that was currently broadcasting a fight between some vigilante and a couple of bank robbers. The criminals were losing horribly.

The vigilante, Mecha, had debuted a few months prior. He’d stopped an elaborate robbery using a giant robot and a collection of smoke bombs. His identity was obscured by a pair of giant, tinted goggles and a fluffy winter coat. Tommy imagined he was sweating bullets under there.

For this fight, Mecha was using three human-sized robots to chase the robbers into a corner. Tubbo was a huge fan of this vigilante, even though the guy barely appeared in the media. Tommy didn’t question it too much, since it was probably just his roommate gushing over the technology. Out of courtesy, he made sure to record the fight.

“Nothing much. The usual, really,” Ranboo said. “I just wanted to confirm that you’re good to be there for your shift tomorrow, right? The opening one.”

“Yeah,” Tommy replied. “Have your online classes ended yet?”

“Not yet,” the other confirmed, a bit of a disgruntled inflection creeping into his voice. “I’ve got a few more and then I’ll be officially out of high school.”

Ranboo had an interesting education schedule in comparison to Tommy’s regular one. According to Mrs. Ender, her son had trouble sitting still in classrooms and much preferred to attend online seminars. On top of that, though, Ranboo was really smart and got to graduate high school a year early.

“If you have one tomorrow, you know I can handle the start of the shift without you,” Tommy reminded him. On the other end of the line, he suddenly heard a distant crash. “What was that? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, my mom just dropped a pan in the kitchen. I’m gonna go help her clean up,” Ranboo spoke hurriedly. “See you later, Tommy. Don’t be late.”

The call went dead and Tommy tossed his phone onto a nearby pillow. He switched the volume on for the TV and settled in to watch. One of Mecha’s robots had been rendered useless after taking a couple of gunshots and the other two were struggling to keep the robbers cornered until the police could arrive.

All of a sudden, a robber broke through the makeshift barrier and aimed his gun at Mecha’s head. Before he could fire, the camera blurred a bit and another vigilante appeared, knocking the man’s gun away. Tommy rubbed his eyes and realized that the TV hadn’t glitched at all. The new arrival was a never-before-seen vigilante.

Tommy hadn’t expected to witness a debut right at that second, but here he was. The new guy was awkwardly tall, especially compared to Mecha’s shorter stature. The news anchor was frantically trying to explain the scene unfolding outside the bank, but ultimately she had no idea what was happening either.

The new guy was dressed in a rather dressy white suit, which complimented his black hair and mask nicely. His face was hidden by a half-black-half-white mask and a pair of sunglasses. Compared to his companion's more neutral costume, he looked elegant.

The camera zoomed in on the scene and Tommy could clearly make out the smug smile on Mecha’s face. A police car had finally pulled up, so the two should’ve left long before. Vigilante’s were usually no threat, but they counted as unlicensed heroes and could be arrested if caught.

For some reason, they were making no moves to escape. Mecha called off his robots, and they fell over lifelessly. The police were quick to handcuff the robbers, but they hesitated to turn their weapons on the other two. Slowly, a cop said, “Put your hands up Mecha and…”

“Blink,” the new vigilante chirped. “It’s been nice, but we have to get going now.”

Tommy’s eyes widened as the two disappeared in a blur. The cops looked around in confusion and the cameras cut back to the studio. The news anchor immediately started rambling about the dramatic debut of Blink, but Tommy wasn’t listening anymore.

Vigilantes didn’t typically possess any magic items, which meant that this new guy had been born with a genuinely amazing power. Teleportation wasn’t even seen among the top heroes. If Blink managed to catch the eye of any hero organizations, he could be in for a huge career.

Tommy was very glad he’d recorded the fight now, because he was rewatching it again and again. Tubbo didn’t get home for another twenty minutes, but he was smiling like a lunatic from the second he walked in the door.

“I’m guessing you saw the debut today,” Tubbo said, gesturing to the television. “I had to watch on my phone while I repaired some old man’s car. Dude blew his exhaust pipe right as I was closing and I’m way too nice.”

He stepped into the apartment and frowned. Tommy was too engrossed in his fifth rewatch of the fight to notice. Tubbo set his stuff down and walked wordlessly into the kitchen. It wasn’t until Tommy heard the sizzling of the stove that he remembered he was supposed to make dinner.

“Sorry Big Man. I totally spaced that it was my night to cook,” he groaned, walking into the kitchen. “I had to take a long detour to Puffy’s after school because of these weirdos and by the time I was home, the fight was on.”

Tubbo shrugged, unbothered. “It happens. I’ll make us some bacon or something. I hope it wasn’t more bullies, though. I can build you a stink bomb if you want.”

Tommy shook his head and sat at the table. It wasn’t the first time his roommate had offered to build him something. In Tubbo’s own words, bullies make good practice dummies. Once, when they were walking and some thugs tried to bother them, he pulled out an untested smoke bomb and told Tommy to run like his life depended on it.

Turns out the bomb worked just fine, but Tubbo liked to remind Tommy that it had a serious chance of exploding and sending shards of metal flying everywhere. Somehow that did not reassure him about the hundreds of tiny projects sitting around their apartment.

“It wasn’t bullies, and I really don’t feel like being your guinea pig with those things,” Tommy huffed. “I was polite to two dudes on the street and they started following me around. Puffy let me hide in the laundromat and now she’s gonna call their boss or something.”

“I’m glad she has it handled,” Tubbo hummed happily. The smell of bacon was starting to slowly make its way around the room. “Puffy is so awesome.”

Tommy agreed, and after a little bit of waiting, they ate their breakfast for dinner. Groceries were running a bit low, so Tubbo promised he’d make a run to the store at some point. Afterwards, they piled onto the couch to binge whatever show they could find on Netflix.

Tommy was the first to turn in because of his opening shift, but Tubbo wasn’t far behind. It was strange to see his roommate going to bed early, but he claimed to just be exhausted.

That night, as he was about to fall asleep, Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about his strange encounter. Thankfully, he wouldn’t have to walk that route again for a while, so he didn’t plan on running into those guys. He would have to be pretty damn unlucky to meet them again.

Chapter Text

“Welcome to Ender-Ice,” Tommy droned for the five hundredth time that hour. “We’re having a summer discount on all toppings. Buy one get one half-off.”

There was no damn way that his eyes were seeing all the bullshit that had just stepped into his workplace. There was finally a break in customers, so the store was completely empty. Ranboo wouldn’t be in for another hour because of his classes, so he couldn’t hide in the back, and now a six-foot-tall world of trouble was smiling at him.

The black cloak with golden lining was iconic in and of itself, but the silver mask with gold leaf trimming confirmed that this was who he thought. Icarus, one of the most fearsome villains in all of Pogtopia, had stepped in to get some froyo.

Tommy focused on keeping his stare blank and straight ahead, channeling all the boring NPC energy that he could. Even when his knees shook, he ignored his fear in favor of running through every possible flavor of froyo he could throw at this guy’s face if he wanted to.

Icarus didn’t speak, but Tommy could feel his eyes staring into his soul. Somehow that was infinitely worse than a conversation, because the villain’s eyes were pitch black. Not just the irises either. There wasn’t a smidge of white visible anywhere. The television broadcasts did not do this guy justice.

He’d read a billion reddit posts from people who had seen Icarus in person and survived. They described him as flamboyantly terrifying, and now Tommy could see why. Icarus simultaneously looked like he spent an hour styling his hair every morning and like he would take a hostage for a few extra sprinkles.  

“It’s a self-serve machine, sir,” Tommy said after an unnecessarily long silence had settled between them. Icarus’s smug expression hesitated for a moment. “When you’re ready to pay, I can help you out.”

Tommy’s brain had completely shifted into autopilot, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good switch or not. There was a villain, a very infamous one, right in front of him and he was explaining how a frozen yogurt shop worked.

Icarus gave a small nod, slowly turning to check out the flavors. This would be Tommy’s chance to call the police. All he had to do was quickly step into the back and grab his phone from his hoodie pocket. That was, of course, easier said than done. He found his feet glued to the floor as the only visible evidence that he was scared shitless.

“What is Birthday Cake flavor,” Icarus spoke up. Tommy wanted to pass out. He knew from interviews with heroes that a lot of people used voice changers to hide their identities better, but hearing it on a villain was chilling. There was a slightly mechanical inflection to Icarus’ and it had been obviously pitched an octave down from his regular voice. 

Icarus turned to look at him, and Tommy realized he hadn't answered the question. Unfortunately, the moment he processed what he’d been asked, he was baffled. “It’s Birthday Cake flavor, man,” he said. “What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“Don’t get pissy with me. I just want to know what it means by birthday cake,” Icarus scoffed. The voice changer was clearly not meant to accompany the bitchy tone its owner currently had, and the result was very amusing. “Is it vanilla or strawberry cake? The picture on the label has strawberries on it, but the yogurt itself is white.”

“Why are you getting existential on me?” Tommy threw up his hands. “I don’t get paid to eat the shit. Why don’t you use the fucking free sample cups to try it like a normal fucking person?”

Icarus’ shoulder slumped like he hadn’t thought of that. His shuffle over to the sample cups was perhaps the most devastating walk of shame ever. The machine whirred to life as he filled the cup with a smidge of yogurt. Tommy held out a tiny spoon, and the villain took it gingerly.

A second later, Icarus said, “It’s vanilla cake, but with sprinkles.”

“What the hell do you mean by sprinkles,” Tommy snorted. “Do they even have a flavor? They just taste crunchy to me. What flavor is crunchy?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Icarus groaned. “Don’t they just taste like condensed sugar?”

“So are you going to get Birthday Cake flavor,” the cashier asked. Icarus tossed his sample cup into the garbage and pondered the question for a moment.

“No,” he concluded. “I planned to get just chocolate from the beginning, but I was curious.”

Tommy could feel the headache forming behind his eyes. Icarus took his time filling a large cup with chocolate frozen yogurt. He contemplated adding toppings for a solid five minutes, but ultimately got nothing else. 

“My tip better be fucking massive after that,” Tommy muttered, not really intending for Icarus to hear it. Unfortunately, he was still unlucky, and the villain snickered from his place by the toppings bar. “If you’re ready, please put your cup on this scale and I’ll ring you up.”

Icarus was compliant, and when Tommy gave him his total, he actually paid for it. He expected that to be the end of their interaction, but the villain fished out a twenty dollar bill and slipped it into the tip jar. After getting nothing but fifty-cent tips all morning, it was surprisingly refreshing.

Still though, Icarus didn’t leave. He hovered awkwardly, and Tommy regretted thinking anything positive about him. The service industry sucked.

“What do you want,” he sighed exasperatedly.

“Be my apprentice,” Icarus blurted.

Tommy blinked. Gradually, the corners of his mouth dropped into the deepest frown he’d ever made. “What the fuck? Why?”

“Why?” Icarus froze and Tommy raised a judgemental eyebrow. “It’s because of your powers.”

“My powers,” he echoed. “I never told you whether or not I had powers.”

“I can… sense them,” Icarus bullshitted. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Right. What are they, then,” he retorted.

“Uh… super… powers,” the villain answered, sounding more unsure of himself by the second.

Tommy wanted to bash his head against a wall. “Really? That’s the best you could do?”

“Prove me wrong,” Icarus said. He had puffed his chest up as a last ditch effort to appear confident. It wasn’t working. “Tell me your real powers.”

“Why should I? What’s in it for me,” Tommy sighed.

Icarus reached into his back pocket and pulled out a clean hundred dollar bill. A cocky smirk rose to his face at the sight of Tommy considering the offer.

“Heightened pain tolerance mixed with a bit of scratch resistance,” he declared in one breath. “Pay up.”

“I have never met such an unbearable child in my entire life,” the villain murmured, but sure enough, Tommy was paid. For the money’s sake, he let the comment about his childlike appearance slide. Just this once.

Sadly, since the back and forth had ended, his situation started to sink in a bit more. There was a murderer standing on the other side of the counter. This murderer left a tip that cost more than the large cup of chocolate froyo he was currently snacking on. Not only that, but he offered to take on Tommy as an apprentice, then paid a hundred bucks to learn about his powers.

What the fuck was going on exactly?

“You… You know we have cameras in here, right,” was the only thing Tommy could manage to say. He should have been screaming for help, or scrambling to call the cops.

“Really? Where,” Icarus asked through a mouthful of chocolate. Robotically, Tommy pointed to the corner of the room and to the wall above the door. Two cameras that had most definitely seen everything. 

Icarus carefully set down his yogurt and reached into his cloak. The villain, ever full of surprises, pulled out two identical throwing knives. The blades looked like they could cut diamonds, and Tommy felt like he was going to faint. 

In one quick movement, Icarus had impaled the corner camera straight through the lense. In a second movement, the camera above the door met the same fate. He made no move to retrieve his knives, nor to apologize for the hours of explanations Tommy would owe the Ender family later.

Then he just picked up his froyo and started eating again. 

His precision and his possession of weapons in the first place reminded Tommy’s body that this was someone to be feared. Unconsciousness threatened to take over for the briefest second, but he fought with everything he could to stay awake. He could not leave his defenseless body on the ground to be either mugged or murdered.

“So, pain tolerance, huh?” Icarus’ words drew him out of his own head. “What’s that like?”

Tommy considered the question for a beat. It didn’t sound like Icarus had bad intentions, or like any of the mean-spirited things he’d been asked in the past. He responded, “Kinda lame, but I can fall out of trees without breaking my bones. It’s exactly what every employer wants to hear.”

To his utter bafflement, Icarus laughed. Not a little chuckle either, a full on laugh.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” the villain mused. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a job that requires your exact skill set.”

“Selling frozen yogurt is hardly a skill set,” Tommy said. “Although, if you and your evil buddies are willing to pay, I’ll set up a private shop just for you guys.”

“What? No. That’s not what I meant,” Icarus stammered. “I mean your power. If we honed it correctly, I could turn you into the best villain the world has ever seen!”

Tommy’s head blanked. 

Never in his seventeen years had he considered becoming a villain. His power was shit, the absolute bottom of the barrel. Sure, he could tank a few punches from bullies, but if he even thought about fighting Speedrunner all of his ribs would shatter. It was out of the question. 

“Become my apprentice,” Icarus repeated. “Become my apprentice and I can get you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

In the middle of his sentence, a bit of honey-coated venom seeped into his voice. Tommy’s stomach churned, but he found himself paying more attention to Icarus’ words now.

“You could get revenge on anyone who’s ever hurt you,” the villain said. His suggestion made Tommy’s heart squeeze in a way it never had before. “You wouldn’t have to work here anymore. You could make a year's salary in one day if you wanted. Join me, Tommy.”

Something snapped in his head and his trance broke. Tommy stumbled back, breathing heavily, “What the hell are you saying? What’s wrong with my mind?”

“You want to give in, Tommy, you know you do,” Icarus taunted. Tommy’s head threatened to fall back under every time the villain called his name. He slapped a hand over his nametag, as if that would stop it from leaving Icarus’ mouth.

Icarus frowned, stepping backwards. “That’s strange,” he whispered. “Usually they give in by now. Why aren’t my powers working on you?”

Tommy’s eyes widened. Icarus’ powers were left up to the speculation of millions, but no one had been able to confirm anything. During broadcasted fights, he would throw insults at the heroes at every chance he got. Occasionally, he would start adding provocative accusations into the mix, and that’s when his opponents would falter.

When Icarus fought the Devil, his words would usually result in the hero getting exceedingly angry. He would start moving predictably, sloppily, and his teammates would have to help out. People on reddit had suggested it was charmspeak, which was a common power for less threatening villains, but it didn’t fit. 

One villain with charmspeak, Minx, could manipulate people with a few words. It was rare to be born with a power that could help you become a villain or a hero, but there were lucky individuals. Minx could only hold her control for around thirty seconds, but it was usually long enough for her to rob you blind.

Icarus was nothing like her. 

Icarus was standing right in front of him. 

Icarus was trying and apparently failing at using whatever power he had. 

Icarus was failing at using a power that made badass heroes fall.

Tommy gripped his hair tightly. His own thoughts felt dangerous as long as this individual was there. He hoped, prayed, begged for someone to help him. Anyone would work; Speedrunner, Glitch, the Devil, people who were qualified to handle a top-tier villain.

“What is going on?”

Tommy’s head snapped up, and he nearly collapsed at the sight of Ranboo in the doorway. Icarus recoiled, glancing between Tommy and the newcomer frantically. Finally, he made a decision. He grabbed the collar of Tommy’s uniform shirt and whispered for only the cashier to hear, “Tell anyone what happened here, and I’ll make you regret it.”

He dropped Tommy and straightened up. Icarus walked unbothered towards the door. Once he’d pushed past Ranboo, he tossed his empty froyo cup in the trash, and left. Silence fell over the shop as his footsteps retreated down the sidewalk. 

When they were both sure he had gone, Ranboo opened his mouth to speak. Tommy cut him off by toppling onto the ground. The other boy rushed over. For the first time since Tommy met him, he wasn’t smiling.

“Ranboo,” he choked out. “There are knives in your cameras.”

He proceeded to promptly pass out. 

~~~~

Tommy woke up to Ranboo standing over him looking pale. He sat up slowly and looked around, realizing he wasn’t on the floor behind the counter anymore. Somehow, he had moved from there to a booth against the wall.

“How long have I been out,” Tommy asked.

“About thirty seconds,” Ranboo said. “I would’ve probably panicked and called an ambulance if it had been any longer.”

“You managed to move me all the way over here in thirty seconds?” His shift manager tensed, but Tommy hardly noticed. “Are you just super strong, Boo? Have you been holding out on me?”

Ranboo stuttered his response, “Yes. Definitely. I’m very strong.”

Tommy accepted the answer and stretched lazily. Ranboo looked like he wanted to say something else, so he encouraged him, “C’mon, spit it out. What’s the matter?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Ranboo scratched the back of his neck. “I walked in on Icarus looming over you like he was about to commit a crime. What’s going on, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged, although he was rather disappointed to find it hadn’t been a nightmare. He owed Ranboo the full story, and he owed the entire Ender family an apology. He wanted so badly to tell them what he’d been told and leave it to the authorities to keep him safe, but he knew better.

Icarus threatened him, and he couldn’t trust a few cops to catch someone that could stump the top heroes. He would be running for the rest of his life if he snitched now. Tommy sighed deeply and shook his head.

“He just ordered froyo,” he explained. “Took out the cameras, gave me a big ole tip, and threatened to hurt me if I called the cops. Don’t worry.”

“I’m glad that’s all it was,” Ranboo muttered. “If I called the cops now, they’d badger you with questions and our shop would be on the news. The last thing any of us need is for the public to find out that villains come by here.”

“All your employees would quit and I’d be stuck with double-shifts,” Tommy shuddered. Somehow, that thought disturbed him more than anything Icarus had said. “I understand, Boo, don’t stress too much.”

“You should go home and rest,” Ranboo suggested. “I can take care of one shift without you, at least. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Tommy gathered his stuff and headed back to his apartment. No one bothered him, and his bus home was running exactly on time. He crossed his fingers in hopes that this morning was the end of his bad luck. 

How foolish he was.

Chapter Text

“You’re telling me that you ran six blocks away just to get frozen yogurt,” Techno scoffed, sitting on the edge of the rooftop and letting his feet dangle. “You do know we’re supposed to patrol together in case anything happens, right?”

Listening to his brother speak, Wilbur mused at the fact that he wasn’t scolded for allowing himself to be seen in broad daylight. Phil would’ve been on his ass the moment he suggested leaving his post. Luckily for the both of them, Midnight had some important business to take care of on the north end of town.

“Don’t worry! I was doing some special reconnaissance at the same time,” Wilbur said, sitting down next to his brother. His black cloak starkly contrasted Techno’s bright pink hair as they both fluttered in the wind. “Do you remember that kid we met yesterday?”

“Of course. He broke the laws of nature,” Techno mumbled nonchalantly. Wilbur knew he was still in shock over the incident, but he was terrible at showing his emotions. “Did you get his name or something?”

Wilbur gave a sly shrug, and answered, “Better. I stumbled across him while he was working. I know everything about him now.”

Techno stiffened, as if he hadn’t expected that. For a pair of brothers, they weren’t very alike, and this was one of the instances where it shone through. Wilbur was a man of action, as he liked to call himself. He would go searching for what he wanted, and then he’d seize the first chance he got.

Techno was his polar opposite in that regard. Assuming he had the energy to leave the house, he didn’t usually jump to achieve his goals. He would tell you that he preferred to work smarter, not harder, but Wilbur knew it was more of a defense mechanism. Techno despised being wrong. He would rather stalk his prey for a month, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike with no witnesses.

Thinking about it, that was probably why Phil left Techno to deal with most of the more silent matters. If they needed someone to quietly go missing, give his brother a month and there wouldn’t be a trace of them left.

The only time there was a switch was on the battlefield. Techno could think quickly, that much was certain, and his fighting skills were hard to match. Speedrunner’s fastest pace still couldn’t evade Techno’s killer instincts. All the hero had to do was make one predictable step and Techno would gain the upper hand.

Wilbur didn’t have quite the same abilities as his dear brother, but he liked to think he was still impressive. Usually he fought the Devil, since he was the resident hothead of the heroes. Wil had an obvious advantage since his opponent could never quite place what his powers were. Out of his family’s trio of villains, he was the only one who was a mystery.

Techno, or Fortress if they were using their aliases, couldn’t hide his power if he wanted. He could mold stone or other tough materials into instant walls. Speedrunner had smacked face-first into those barriers on more than one occasion. While they were working, those few moments were some of the only where Fortress openly smiled.

Charmspeak was what they frequently called Icarus’ power, but anyone with half a brain could tell you they were two different things. He found it honestly kind of insulting, especially when he knew how much greater his gift was. Subconsciously, Wilbur’s hand drifted to his necklace, which was safely tucked beneath his shirt.

“Don’t get agitated, Techno,” Wilbur teased. “Just because you’re too antisocial to leave your post doesn’t mean you have to mope about it.”

Without even a flinch from Techno, a thin brick wall shot up between them. The brunette brother made a long, whiny noise, and the wall crumbled. The bricks kicked up dust as they fell and elicited a cough from Wilbur. It was a petty use of Fortress’ power, but it wasn’t like they were planning to fight a hero that day.

“I’m not moping,” Techno said. Without the blockade between them anymore, Wilbur could see that his brother’s hand was also clutching his necklace through his shirt. “Stop holding out already and tell me what you learned.”

Before Wilbur could speak, a gust of wind washed over them. They turned around and smiled at the sight of Phil. Their father was one of the only people they had met with an impressive birth power. Phil could summon wings made of shadows, so long as he didn’t fly too much in direct sunlight.

That wasn’t why his alias, Midnight, was known across Pogtopia of course. It was just a heavily convenient feature. His status as a top-tier villain was more based on his main power.

“What is Wil not telling us,” Phil hummed as he strolled to where they were sitting. “The west end’s clear, by the way.”

Techno frowned. “Didn’t you say you were going north? Why would you check the west end of town?”

Barely visible beneath the black veil that hid their father’s identity, Wilbur saw a chilling smile grow on Phil’s face. “We started in the north end,” he said slowly. “We ended in the west, and now that side’s clear.”

Techno nodded, needing no further explanation. Phil was a terrifying fighter, though he usually took a step back during group fights. When they fought the Dream Team, it was Midnight who took on Glitch. Their powers weren’t terribly different, but it was usually a very one-sided battle.

If Glitch was distracted, he couldn’t heal his team. Midnight also couldn’t take care of his team when he was in combat, but the villains tended to come out on top if Glitch was out of order, so it was helpful in the long run. Speedrunner would typically drop his fight with Fortress if it meant helping their healer.

“Anyway,” Techno cleared his throat, interrupting the silence that had fallen over them. “Wilbur was just about to tell me what he’d learned about the kid from yesterday. He apparently stalked the guy to his workplace.”

Phil laughed and Wilbur choked, “I absolutely did not stalk him! I just went to get frozen yogurt and he was there, it’s not my fault at all.”

Phil’s laughter cut off, and Wilbur froze.

“You left your post to get frozen yogurt,” his father echoed. Techno was visibly restraining his smile. “Fine. Since you’re taking breaks, you can handle the night shift this week.”

Wilbur protested loudly, but Phil wouldn’t back down so easily. He wasn’t talking about the evening patrol, because that was fun. No, he was talking about the night shift at the bar, where Wilbur would be stuck serving drunk or pissy patrons until they closed at four in the morning.

“Now, that’s sorted,” Phil sighed. “Tell me about the kid.”

Wilbur pouted, but he started anyway, “His name is Tommy, and he’s a little prick. I had to pay a hundred bucks of my hard-earned cash to find out that his power is just Heightened Pain Tolerance.”

Techno jumped to his feet. If it weren’t for the boar skull mask covering the top of his head, Wil was sure his eyes would be wide. “Seriously,” he gaped. “That’s all it took for him to be immune?”

“He said there was a bit of resistance mixed in there,” Wilbur added. “But that’s not the only weird thing I found out.”

“Spit it out, mate,” Phil chastised, clearly intrigued.

“I tried to use my powers to convince him to be my apprentice, and he snapped out of it really quickly,” he finished. “The kid was just grabbing his head and breathing heavily. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Phil fell quiet, clearly pondering the new information. As soon as Techno and Wilbur had gotten home, they told their father all about the weird kid. Understandably, the older villain was stunned into silence. There had never reportedly been anyone like this before.

“Someone immune to our gifts,” Phil whispered. “I’ve never met anyone with Heightened Pain Tolerance as a power. Is it rare? Even then, it sounds too simplistic.”

A loud siren tore their minds away from the conversation. Phil’s shadow wings, which had been politely tucked away, opened with an urgency. Despite how occupied he’d been moments before, he was off in a flash. Since his wings were limited in the daylight, Midnight made the most of the flight time he could get by being fast as fuck.

“We should probably follow, right,” Wilbur groaned. His afternoon was supposed to be peaceful. Techno nodded, and they silently switched back into their villain personalities.

Fortress made a staircase down from the roof, and from there they were off. Icarus directed them through the winding alleyways. The siren whirred from a bank that came into view as they ran down that last narrowed path. Neither of the brothers were sure why their father followed the sound, but it was better to trust his instincts.

Sure enough, they found Midnight waiting for them at the mouth of the alleyway. He held a finger to his lips and gestured to the fight that was currently ensuing. Icarus flattened himself against the wall.

“Back off, Bubblegum,” a tired voice shouted. At the entrance of the bank, a man in an oddly colored costume crossed his arms. Each of his limbs appeared to be a different color, and his outfit as a whole looked more like a glorified onesie. The only thing hiding his identity was the hood of said onesie with eye holes cut into it. “This was my heist!”

“Suck it up, Swirl,” another person, Bubblegum, laughed. Perched on the side of a building, a woman in black dropped wads of cash into a backpack. Her most prominent feature was her bright pink hair, which was currently tied back in a tight ponytail. Her mask was a hot pink, sheer fabric. “I know you don’t really mind if I borrow a few thousand. I need groceries.”

She remained safely tucked on the wall of the building because of the numerous tree roots that wrapped around her legs, seeming to come out of the wall itself. She had accurately named herself based around her power to trap anyone in one place with her infamous roots. From time to time, she used them on herself, and Icarus always enjoyed watching those fights.

Swirl tapped his foot, clearly irritated, though he didn’t step anywhere. With careful precision, he picked up a rock by his feet, and dropped it one step away from his body. Instantly, tree roots shot from the ground and tried to grasp an opponent that wasn’t there. When they were met with only the empty air, they shriveled and died.

Bubblegum had trapped the entire outside of the bank, but Swirl wasn’t stupid. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, his arms began to change form. He took one deep breath and jumped, but he didn’t hit the ground. His arms had shifted into wings as multicolored as his outfit.

Bubblegum let out an audible curse and Icarus began to get excited; There was no better entertainment than watching other people fight. The roots around the woman’s feet shriveled and she fell. Right before she was set to hit the ground, she threw something small and more roots shot from the pavement to catch her.

Swirl pumped the brakes to avoid smacking into the wall, and it was clear his wings made it hard for him to switch direction. He was obviously not as used to them as some other winged people Icarus knew.

Speaking of which, he spared a glance at his father. Midnight was staring intently at the individuals currently engaged in battle, but the set of his shoulders and the bend in his knees told Icarus he didn’t plan to sit still. Fortress shared a look with him, and they begrudgingly prepared as well.

Bubblegum wasn’t a stranger to them, though she wasn’t exactly an ally either. They had an unspoken understanding for one another. If Midnight was going to fight in this battle, it would either be on her side, or his own side. Fellow villains had to look after each other, especially when they shared a similar source.

Swirl technically shared their source, but they didn’t consider him a plausible ally. Most powerful people fell into the category of either hero, villain, or vigilante. Even then, vigilante’s tended to act on the side of more morally correct heroes. Swirl, however, denied all of those roles.

He wasn’t a hero, at least not publicly, but he’d saved his fair share of civilians from villains. He also wasn’t a villain, but he stole here and there. He couldn’t be considered a vigilante due to his odd gift, so he fell somewhere in the middle. The media had gotten so confused trying to label him that they made a collective decision to just cut him out of every report.

If you weren’t actively fighting him, he was nice enough. Swirl had that positive disposition that made you feel guilty for punching him in his multicolored gut. Although, hanging around him also felt very awkward, since the guy didn’t give two shits about whether his hood fully covered his face. It was easy to assume that it wasn’t his real face since his appearance changed every time he stepped into public, but his power was still shocking.

Icarus relaxed slightly when he realized that Bubblegum was holding her own quite nicely. Since his wings were hard to steer, Swirl was struggling to keep up with her without touching the ground. He made a quick attempt to kick off a wall to move faster, but roots latched around his ankle and he was forced to change his wings to claws.

As soon as he fully touched the ground, even more roots grabbed him, and he screamed his annoyance. Bubblegum snickered from the side of a building. Swirl chopped away at the roots, but they seemed to be never ending. He would be stuck there for a while, clearly, and cop cars could be heard in the distance.

Midnight untensed, meaning they likely wouldn’t be jumping in as they thought. Bubblegum slung her backpack over her shoulder and waved cheerily at her opponent. The police rounded the corner and she disappeared into the winding backstreets. Swirl chopped more frantically at his restraints.

The first cop slowed to a stop, gun raised, but he was too late. The last root shriveled and Swirl was able to take to the skies again. Fortress put a hand on Icarus’ shoulder, and the three spectators left quietly.

~~~~

The night shift sucked ass.

The After-Hours bar and grill was a lovely atmosphere for people of all backgrounds to enjoy themselves from noon until night, but it was family owned. Phil originally bought it as a cover-up for their civilian lifestyle. The bank wouldn’t question where the money came from so long as it ended up somewhere classy.

Unfortunately, it picked up popularity after a few well-known vigilantes became frequent patrons during their patrol nights. Once they walked out the door, they spread the name to other vigilantes. “Check out this bar,” they’d say, “It has great food, and they don’t bat an eye if you come in covered in dry blood!”

Vigilantes turned into villains, and now they were a well-known haunt for a lot of shady business deals. Phil made sure they never got wrapped up in anything that might alert the authorities, and business continued to boom.

Eventually, regulars figured out that Phil, Techno, and Wilbur weren’t exactly normal civilians either. Though, they never made it past that barrier. The three were good at hiding their identities from prying eyes. The rumors would circulate that they definitely were not innocent, but they died out after that. No evidence meant no more rumors, and old rumors were boring.

Phil found a few new hobbies with their bar’s popularity, and it was honestly terrifying how much he knew. He collected names, builds, heights, general information, everything, until he could finally put it to use. Long story short, very few of their patrons had a secret identity that Phil didn’t know of.

Wilbur’s dad was on an entirely different playing field from those mid-tier villains.

Possibly the worst time to work was during the night shift. Not only did you have to completely clean up for closing, but you had to deal with drunk civilians and people who thought it would be a fun place to have a secret meeting. Let’s just say, their ominously-lit corner booths filled up quickly.

“Welcome to After-Hours. Is there a drink I can start you off with,” Wilbur droned, deadpan expression giving nothing to the man in front of him. It was so clear the guy had walked in to do some sort of strange deal, but Wil couldn’t give less of a shift.

“I’ll have a martini on the rocks,” the guy ordered, and Wil was quick to start preparing it. It was ready fairly quickly, but as the customer tried to hand over a cash payment, Wilbur caught a hint of something up his sleeve.

He smiled sweetly and set the money aside. Without warning, he grabbed the guy’s hand before he could pull it back. “This must be your first time dining with us,” Wilbur pointed out. He started to shake the guy’s hand. “I’m Wilbur, one of the bartenders and waiters. I do hope to see you again soon.”

The man looked thoroughly shaken by the uncalled for physical contact, but he said nothing. He gripped his martini glass tighter and sat at a table for two against the far wall. After a minute, a lady joined him. The conversation looked tense from what Wil could see, when the man suddenly snuck a hand up his sleeve.

His face paled so immediately when he realized his sleeves were empty. He checked around the table frantically, and the woman became rightfully confused. Wilbur chuckled from his spot behind the counter. He would be discreetly adding the man’s knife to his collection of confiscated weapons later.

Pickpocketing was a skill he had never regretted learning, especially given his amazing teacher. She was perhaps the only non-family member that had Phil’s loyalty one hundred percent of the time. It was for that same reason that Wilbur didn’t know her on a personal level.

Phil protected her secret identity more than he likely protected his own. He didn’t even share it with Wilbur or Techno. Techno guessed that they probably worked together long before Phil became their father.

They knew her as Swashbuckler. She was similar to Swirl when it came to her standing, but she usually leaned more towards the villain end of the spectrum. Even then, she upheld a strong moral code. During all of Wil’s pickpocketing lessons with her, she was adamant that he never use his skills unless it was to prevent the harm of another person.

While it wasn’t always possible to remember her morals during a fight for his life, he tried for her sake.

She taught him that the entire reason the handshake had been invented was to check for knives up people’s sleeves, and it was one of his favorite moves. It was simple and timeless. Swashbuckler was very proud to see he’d mastered it.

Besides her strong moral compass, he only knew bits and pieces about her. Wilbur found out during their lessons that her birth gift had been lock-picking. She could undo almost any lock, and was currently studying code so that could be true for digital locks as well. If Swashbuckler wanted to embrace villainy full-time, Wilbur was sure she would be a formidable opponent.

Wilbur never saw her on the news, he realized quite recently. According to Phil, she did very little actual crime. On one of the rare occasions where he’d pushed for a bit more information, his father had let it slip that she had a motivation for the few crimes she did commit. Apparently, she had lost someone precious to her and would do absolutely anything for them.

Who or what that was, Wilbur had no clue. He likely would never know. For the time being, all he could do was focus on taking orders and cleaning glasses. His repetitive process didn’t last for long, however, as someone walked into the bar.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Swashbuckler sauntered in wearing her full costume. Patrons stopped to stare, even though most of them were also minor villains. As usual, she looked as though she’d stepped through a time machine. Wilbur would have believed her if she said she were an authentic pirate.

“Bartender,” Swashbuckler called from one of the stools. Wilbur set down the glass he’d been polishing to see what she needed. There was no smile on her face that night. “When Phil gets back, tell him to meet me in our usual spot. It’s important.”

Despite her eyes being covered by a black mask, Wilbur could feel her gaze weighing on him. He nodded gingerly, and she left without another word. He took a deep breath and shot his dad a text message.

Whatever Phil had done, Swashbuckler was not happy.

Chapter Text

The wind howled at the top of the abandoned parking garage. Stars were blotted out by light pollution, but at least there was silence for the time being. Midnight's wings made of shadows thrived in the darkness, stretching without fear of being scared away by the sun. The veil that hung from his hat licked his face with each breeze.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do."

Midnight sighed at his interrupted silence. Swashbuckler's sudden request to meet was inconvenient to say the least. Wilbur had pulled Phil aside the moment he'd returned from evening patrol with Techno. His plans to collapse onto the couch were soiled and his muscles ached something fierce.

Swashbuckler stood next to him, as she had done hundreds of times before. Her mask was in her hands, leaving her anger on full display. Midnight felt a shiver up his spine, and his ruined night was no longer his biggest concern. Puffy was a kind woman, but she could wreak havoc if upset.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Phil responded, stepping carefully. If he truly had done something, it was best to navigate their conversation like an active minefield. 

Puffy huffed, "Yesterday, a kid I'm rather fond of ran into my laundromat begging me to hide him. Would you like to take a guess as to who he was hiding from?"

Phil winced beneath his veil. Gingerly, he removed his hat, feeling it was better that she see the guilt on his face. Puffy crossed her arms, and he knew it was too late to prevent her from exploding. His sons would not be hearing the end of this when he got home.

"My boys," he admitted sheepishly. She nodded. "I apologize for them. They were just caught off guard by Tommy's powers and didn't think things through."

Puffy held out a hand and Phil shut his mouth. If she had looked pissed before, she was livid now. Phil gripped his hat tighter in an attempt to not show fear. Swashbuckler wasn't known to commit major crimes, and he did not want to be the first life added to her tally.

"First of all," she started through clenched teeth. "How did you know his name was Tommy? Second of all, what the hell do you mean they were caught off guard by his powers?"

Wilbur would be working the night shift for the rest of his life if Phil got murdered today.

"Icarus stepped away from patrol this afternoon to get a snack and ran into Tommy while he was working," the man explained slowly, gauging Puffy's expression with each word. "They had a completely safe conversation over a bit of frozen yogurt."

Swashbuckler pinched the bridge of her nose. "I guess that's alright if Tommy was okay with it," she relented. "But that doesn't explain why they were chasing him the other day. He told me something about keys, but I don't know much."

Phil sucked in a breath and stood up straighter. Puffy wasn't aware of their reasoning yet, which was likely why she'd called him. Her situation was similar to his, and she deserved to know. 

"Puffy, Tommy picked up both Techno and Wilbur's keys at the same time," Phil said. "And he was completely fine."

The woman's eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock. As he'd expected, she would need a bit to process the new information. Tommy's situation was unheard of in their field. Phil slipped his hat back over his face. 

"How is that possible," she whispered. He noticed that one of Puffy's hands had slipped to the necklace she wore constantly. She gripped onto the object that dangled from the chain as if it were the only thing grounding her. "No one's been able to possess two magic items at the same time and survive. It's the only thing that's kept the heroes and villains balanced all this time."

Puffy reached the same conclusion that Wilbur, Techno, and Phil had reached the night before. 

"He could change the world."

~~~~

Tommy wanted to shoot the sun in the face. It was stupid and bright. The bastard ball of fire chose to rise directly in front of his window every morning. Obviously this was taken as a personal slight against him specifically. Sometimes, Tommy would turn on his phone's flashlight and press it against the glass so the sun would get a taste of its own medicine. 

The sun was an intense motherfucker though, and it didn't back down. 

As karma for flashing the sun, Tommy was cursed with another extraordinarily hot day. If he had just been on his morning commute to work, he probably would've been fine. Ender-Ice wasn't far, and buses traveled there frequently. Unfortunately, he wasn't on his way to work since it was Sunday.

Instead, he was lugging ten thousand pounds worth of laundry across the city to their preferred laundromat. Were there some places infinitely closer than the Captain's Laundromat? Yes, there were several. But did visiting them usually result in the owner treating him to lunch? No, that was just Puffy.

When it was Tubbo's day to do laundry, he never fully made the hike. He'd settle for some dingy place nearby where their clothes may or may not be thrown on the ground if they weren't looking. Another benefit of Puffy was her ability to protect the dignity of her customers. She was probably his favorite woman.

The only problem Tommy had with having Tubbo as his roommate was the amount of laundry the guy produced. He wasn't a terribly filthy person, but his job did often result in him coming home covered in oil, grease, and other weird machine stains. On weeks where it was especially bad, they would have to take two or three trips to the laundromat. 

For the first few weeks of being roommates, Tubbo always took accountability for the laundry and would willingly take them to be washed every time. After a few months, though, they both got too comfortable to have that initial respect for each other anymore. Just that morning, Tubbo had thrown a stained shirt directly at his face without so much as an apology. 

Best friends sucked almost as much as the sun. 

Tommy was sweating an uncomfortable amount by the time he entered the Captain's Laundromat. Puffy was behind the counter, but she was fully engrossed in something on her laptop. Tommy cleared his throat and she jumped, quickly shutting her screen as if he could see it from the doorway.

"Hey, Tommy," she said, sounding almost out of breath. "How's your day going?"

"It's fine, I guess," Tommy replied. He narrowed his eyes at her suspicious behavior and her smile became visibly more strained. "Were you watching something weird on your computer before I got here? You know you're working right?"

Puffy's expression shifted instantly into confusion and then irritation. "Oh my God," she all-but shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you? I absolutely wasn't."

Tommy broke into laughter and began to unload his laundry into an empty machine. Luckily for him, there were many of those in the morning. He ended up needing two washers for all their shit. 

"Did you get a chance to talk to that weird guy's boss," Tommy inquired, and Puffy flinched. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction, which he clearly was not meant to see. "Is something on your mind, Puffs? You don't look too good."

"Don't be ridiculous. I always look good," she quipped. "I did talk to the guy, but I don't know what he'll do about the issue. What about you? Has anything... strange happened to you?"

Tommy stiffened. He went over every possible response he could have, but none of them would work. Icarus coming in to buy froyo and subsequently begging for him to become his apprentice wasn't exactly something to be taken lightly. He still wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or not.

"No," he replied, his voice choosing to crack right then. Goddamn it, voice box, you fucking traitor. Puffy gave him the disappointed parent stare that seemed to always work, and he took a deep breath. "We had a rowdy customer at Ender-Ice the other day, but my manager handled it."

She still didn't seem like she believed him, but she gave up anyway. "I'm glad nothing too serious has happened," Puffy sighed. "You know you can always call me if you need help. Seriously, I can handle anything for you."

Not this, Tommy thought, but he nodded anyway. 

Once his laundry was finished washing and drying, Puffy offered to treat him to lunch as usual. For the first time ever, he was tempted to decline, but then she really would've known something was up. He accepted, and she let him store his now-clean laundry in the back where she could lock the door.

"I'm going to take you somewhere you might recognize, but I need you to trust me," Puffy said, making Tommy stop walking. "Don't freak out. It's got the best food in town."

He reluctantly followed her, but he became increasingly more worried the further they walked. They made one last turn into a dimly lit alleyway. There were shady figures lingering outside of a tinted glass door, and only one sign shone in the darkness. 

"After-Hours bar and grill," Tommy read under his breath. He had heard that somewhere before, but he couldn't exactly place his finger on it. He glanced over to Puffy for clues and instantly remembered. "Fuck no! This is where those weirdos worked."

Puffy grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the door. She wasn't holding him particularly tightly, but somehow Tommy was completely unable to escape. Sketchy people sneered at him as they passed. The smell of smoke lingered permanently in the air, and he forced himself not to gag. 

She released him when they were directly in front of the entrance and gave him a pointed look that said she wanted him to open the door. Tommy gulped, fully convinced this was about to be the worst experience of his week. The tinted glass prevented him from getting even a glimpse, and he closed his eyes to throw the door open.

Tommy had barely stepped through the threshold and the smell of something delicious caught his nose. He allowed himself to peek at his surroundings, and a gasp left his mouth. What he'd expected to be some cheap establishment was actually one of the fanciest interiors he'd ever seen.

The room was a lot bigger than he expected for starters. The bar occupied the far wall with one blonde man taking orders. The booths were made of a clean black fabric without a single flaw, and the wooden tables were polished to perfection. Mirrors decorated the walls, giving it a more modern flare, and crystal candle holders provided the room's lighting. 

"What the hell is this," Tommy whispered. Puffy shot him a pleased grin and slid into an empty booth. The boy was not surprised to find the seating was comfortable as well as classy. "That jackass works here?"

He scanned the room, but thankfully caught no hint of the weirdos. Actually, the bartender was the only staff member present despite the several customers dining with them. Puffy pushed a menu over to him and he frowned. She gestured towards the door, where he'd completely overlooked a pile of menus. 

Tommy glanced over the plentiful options and noticed something strange. Just about every available meal was named after either a villain or a vigilante. The plate named after Bubblegum was a filet mignon with a side of caesar salad, and her partner, Hothead, had a basket of buffalo wings.

Moving down the page, the vigilante called Diamond had a chicken noodle soup dish, and his partner, Hellspawn, had grilled salmon with a fancy lemon seasoning. Minx's name was on there as well, although the contents of her dish weren't listed, so he asked Puffy about it. 

"Oh, Minx's thing is just six of the strongest Irish beers they have available and a plate of fries," Puffy said without batting an eye. "I wouldn't recommend ordering that until you're having a midlife crisis."

Tommy snorted and resumed looking over the menu. He noticed quickly that Fortress, Midnight, and Icarus didn't have any dishes named after them. Puffy smiled at his confused expression, and flipped the paper over for him. On the back, there was a kids' menu.

"There is no fucking way these guys had the gall to put Icarus as a chicken nuggets," Tommy gasped. Fortress' meal was a mini pizza and Midnight had spaghetti with garlic bread. "The owner of this place has a death wish for sure."

Puffy only grinned. Tommy spent a little while longer browsing before deciding he absolutely had to eat the Icarus nuggets. If the asshole ever stopped by his work again, he would be rubbing this new information in his face the entire time. 

"What are you getting, Big P?" Tommy was sitting smugly, his mood entirely improved in comparison to this morning.

"Swashbuckler is a really good burger and fries," Puffy said. She stood up, surprising Tommy with the large movement. "C'mon. We place our orders at the bar."

The bartender had a friendly smile as they approached, and Tommy found out from his nametag that this guy was called Phil. He wasn't aware people with the name Phil still existed in the world, but he supposed the guy did look a little ancient. At least 30. Maybe even 35.

"Welcome to the After-Hours bar and grill," the man greeted. His cheery disposition matched his high-energy voice perfectly. In fact, his entire person fit so comfortably behind the bar that Tommy might've thought it was made specifically for him. "What can I get you today?"

"I'll have the Swashbuckler special," Puffy chimed in. "With a coke."

Phil didn't write anything down, but something about the knowing gleam in his eyes let Tommy know that their orders would not be forgotten. 

"Could I please have the Icarus nuggets," Tommy said, and the man let out a sharp chuckle. It was one of those contagious kinds of laughs, and even though no one had told a joke, Tommy wanted to laugh along. "Could I also have a diet coke with that please?"

"Alright. Is there a name for this order," Phil asked, setting down a glass he'd been cleaning. 

"Tommy," said Puffy. The boy jumped to attention at the mention of his name, a reaction that the woman had definitely intended, judging by her no-good grin.

Phil had frozen, eyes slightly wide. He glanced between Puffy and Tommy several times, but said nothing. After an awkward minute, he perked back up and left them to put the orders in. Tommy wasn't sure what was wrong with the adults around him today. They went back to their seats to wait.

A second later, Phil brought them their drinks. He was acting a bit skittish, and Tommy kept catching the guy staring at him. Thankfully, nothing else out of the ordinary happened, and Phil called them from the bar to get their food.

The chicken nuggets turned out to be in the shapes of dinosaurs and the fries were little smiley faces. He had to refrain from cackling at the thought of Icarus eating these. Puffy seemed to be enjoying the Swashbuckler burger. 

"Is the bartender their only employee," Tommy asked through a mouthful of fries. Puffy shook her head.

"No, but they operate kind of differently from other places," she said. "Only one guy works in the front at a time, and they take shifts. There's a full kitchen staff working in the back."

"Why don't they have waiters like other places," he added. "Wouldn't they be more efficient?"

Puffy thought about her answer. "The owner prefers to hire people who aren't typically able to work anywhere else," she replied. "Reformed criminals and whatnot. That's why they stay in the kitchen, and the people who work the bartender shifts are members of the owner's family."

"Phil's related to the owner, then," Tommy hummed. 

"Phil is the owner."

Tommy froze and Puffy avoided eye contact with him. Now he knew why the bartender had been so weird towards him. This was the guy Puffy had confronted. When he'd spoken to her earlier that day, she told him that she wasn't sure what Phil was planning to do with the weird men. 

As if on cue, two figures pushed out of the kitchen door and Tommy immediately wanted to leave. Puffy put a hand on his shoulder, and he was immobilized once again. The two, Wilbur and Techno, had yet to notice him, thankfully. They were chatting with Phil at the bar, and he prayed they would leave.

But he was Tommy Innit, the most unlucky person on the planet, and both of the guys locked eyes with him.

Phil surprised him by grabbing the two men by their ears and saying something that seemed to make them pale. They were released a second later, and Tommy's stomach dropped as they started to walk over. Techno appeared entirely monotone like the last time they'd met, but Wilbur was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

"Hey," Techno said. Tommy was immediately pissed off. With a quick glance at Puffy, he realized he wasn't the only one glaring holes into these guys.

Wilbur took a deep breath and blurted, "We're here to apologize for being assholes the other day. That was totally not cool of us at all and I promise we're not like that all the time."

Puffy cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," Wilbur stammered, "And we're going to be paying your tab today. Sorry."

Tommy wasn't sure what Puffy had said to their boss, but it was apparently very effective. He was going to have fun with this.

"Apology not accepted," Tommy declared. Three pairs of eyes snapped towards him, Puffy's included. He put on the most shit-eating grin he could and Wilbur blanched. "I'll forgive you if you get down on your knees and beg."

Phil snorted from behind the bar, slapping a hand over his mouth. The two men were stunned. A few other patrons had turned to stare, and Tommy had never been so entertained in his life. 

"You two heard him," Puffy said, entirely serious. "On the ground."

Wilbur flushed red and Techno flinched ever so slightly. Watching the two ginormous bitches getting onto their knees was the most agonizingly wonderful thing. When they were both in position, Wilbur mumbled something under his breath.

"I can't hear you," Tommy snickered. Wilbur curled his hands into fists.

"We're very sorry. Please forgive us," he snapped, and the boy bit back another laugh. "Can we stand up now?"

Tommy gestured to Techno, who had yet to say anything. The man raised an eyebrow, as if daring Tommy to try it. "Big Man here still hasn't said anything," he pointed out. 

"Don't push your luck," Techno huffed, standing up despite Tommy. Wilbur followed, shooting a frown at his plate of chicken nuggets as he walked. Fucking weirdo.

"Remember to pay for our food, boys," Puffy said as the two walked off, before turning to smile at Tommy. "That's why I wanted to come here. I've been friends with their dad for longer than they probably remember, and I know they didn't mean to scare you."

Tommy hadn't realized until just then, but his chest felt significantly lighter. Puffy had lifted a weight from his mind, and he remembered why he liked her so much. They finished their food quickly and headed back towards the laundromat. The temperature cooled down to become more bearable so their walk was fairly pleasant.

The laundromat had a few other customers washing clothes when they arrived, and Puffy greeted them as she always did. Tommy retrieved his laundry and bid farewell to his favorite adult ever. 

Walking home was more of an instinct for him since he made this journey so often. His brain was switched to autopilot as his feet led him. The south side of town, where he lived, wasn't terribly dangerous. It was close to the west side, where vigilantes tended to patrol the most, so a few of them kept the south side manageable. The most dangerous part of Tommy's route home was his terrible luck, which had not subsided.

A group of four kids around his age stepped out of an alleyway and alarm bells started in his head. He went to school with two of them, but the others were strangers. Judging by their hostile smirks, this encounter wasn't going to end pleasantly. 

Tommy couldn't run with his laundry basket, but he took note of every possible escape anyway. There was an alley a few steps behind him, but he didn't know where it went. There were only a few cars driving by, so crossing the street could be possible if he found a chance.

"Hello Tommy," the tallest boy said. Tommy went to school with this guy, and he was not a big fan. The other students were typically just cruel to him in more subtle ways, but occasionally there would be some rougher kids who would follow him after school. This guy was one of them. "My cousins and I are having a shit day. We both know you can't feel anything, so why don't you help us out?"

Tommy took a step back, but he knew he couldn't do anything. The group started over to him, cracking their knuckles in a way that would surely result in arthritis later in life. The tallest guy picked up his pace, pulling back his fist for a big swing, and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. 

The sound of thunder hit his ears, and he heard a thud. He cracked his eye open and gasped. There was a tall stone wall in front of him that definitely had not been there before. He backed up, breathing heavily, and the wall collapsed into a heap of rubble.

Dust polluted the air around him, but once it had cleared, Tommy saw that the boy that had charged him was on the ground, groaning. On his forehead, a massive bruise had already started to form, so it was easy to assume he'd run straight into the wall. 

The other kids were staring fearfully at something above them and Tommy followed their eyes. He couldn't tell if he was shocked to see Fortress perched on a rooftop. His signature costume was the most flashy and expensive thing Tommy had seen since Icarus' visit yesterday.

"It's not nice to hit people who can't hit back," Fortress' booming voice said. "Although with those pathetic excuses for muscles, I don't think he would have really gotten hurt."

The group shrieked and ran off, abandoning the guy on the ground. Fortress grinned chillingly and pushed off the building. He hit the ground without so much as a flinch, and Tommy could've sworn the earth shook from the impact. The tall kid looked as though he were about to pass out, completely frozen in place. 

Fortress took one step in his direction and he began to cry. The villain scoffed, as if embarrassed for him. The closer he got, the heavier the sobs, until they were face to face. Fortress grabbed his collar and lifted him clean off the ground. 

"Tell your little buddies to think about their actions, or I'll use you to test my new throwing knives," he said. Though his tone was barely above a whisper, it felt like every other sound quieted out of respect. "And don't tell anyone else what happened today. I never forget a face."

The kid nodded and the villain dropped him. With shaking knees and snot all over his face, he ran after his friends. Tommy gaped, unable to process anything that had happened in the last five minutes. Of course, his wonder was interrupted by Fortress turning towards him. 

"Do they pick on you often, Tommy?"

Tommy's mouth fell open at his name, but he remembered that Icarus also knew it. The two were part of the most infamous trio in the city. They likely told each other the shit that happened to them, so it wasn't insane to imagine Tommy's name was mentioned. 

Except for the fact that it was insane. It was absolutely crazy that these fucking maniacs knew his name while his gym teacher called him Jimmy for the entire year. No part of that made sense.

"Uh," Tommy stuttered, searching for absolutely any response. "Kinda. It's not bad though, don't worry. I can't really feel them punching me. It just leaves a few nasty bruises for a while."

Fortress frowned, which did not at all feel like the proper reaction. This was the shit his uncle or Tubbo cared about. It was those people who saw the full extent of his bruising, or the mental effect it had on him for a week afterwards, not a fucking supervillain. 

"Why are you here," he croaked out. Fortress raised an eyebrow. "Why did you help me? Aren't you supposed to be robbing government buildings or something?"

The villain hummed, "I do enjoy robbing the government, but I don't have time today. I'm here for you."

"Me? Why?"

"I guess I'll cut to the chase, then," Fortress sighed. Suddenly, he became very serious. "I want to make you my apprentice."

What.

What the fuck.

"Icarus told me about your extraordinary power and I got a bit jealous," the man explained, although he seemed almost bored. "I wanted to harness your power to make you my apprentice. Today would've been the perfect chance to see your gift in action, but I didn't like the look of those kids."

Tommy turned on his heel and began to walk away. He wasn't sure what compelled him to leave, only that his feet were moving. One horrifying supervillain experience was enough for him. Thanks, but no thanks.

Suddenly, he felt the air leave him as he was hoisted up by the hood of his hoodie. He struggled for a minute before noticing a distinct lack of ground beneath him. Fortress climbed onto the roof of the building next to them, dragging Tommy along like some sort of pink-haired godzilla. 

When they were safely on the rooftop, he dropped the boy and watched with an amused look as his victim scrambled to get his bearings. Thankfully, Fortress was nice enough to kidnap him with his clean laundry, which was a strangely positive outlook on the situation.

"What the hell, man," Tommy shrieked. "I kinda need to be down there so I can leave."

"I don't think you were listening to me," Fortress said calmly. "I want you as my apprentice. That's the opportunity of a lifetime."

"Well, Icarus asked first and he would probably get mad at you for this," Tommy pointed out, trying to keep the quivering of his legs a secret. "Wouldn't want to have a villain fight over some weird teenager, would we?"

The grin that grew on Fortress' face scared the fuck out of Tommy. "I'm not terribly worried about how Icarus feels," he said slowly. "I think we both know how that would go."

Oh. This guy was fully ready to deck his teammate at the first chance he got. Alright. Good on him.

"Why do you even want an apprentice? You're definitely not planning on dying anytime soon," Tommy mentioned, referencing the guy's reputation to be unkillable. "Why would you need one?"

"You're right. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," Fortress said. "But this business is unpredictable, and I need to pass my power on to someone who will represent me well. You're the ideal candidate."

There it was again. Someone was calling him powerful when he absolutely wasn't. Icarus said the same thing back at Ender-Ice. He couldn't feel much pain, but that didn't make him the next Fortress. Nothing about this situation made sense to him. He had to find a way out of it.

"Y'know," he responded gingerly. "If I were to become your apprentice, I'd probably be the most powerful guy in all of Pogtopia. I would do everything you and Icarus do with the snap of my fingers. In fact, I'd probably do way more."

Fortress paused, considering the new information. Tommy prayed his idea would work.

"My name would be written in every history book as the best villain the world has ever seen," he said with a feigned nonchalant attitude. "I'd make your achievements look like nothing. Everyone would know me. You might go down in history as my mentor, but I doubt they'd even write down your name."

A lightbulb went off in Fortress' head. Tommy knew very little about the villains, but it was public knowledge that Fortress had an ego. Hopefully, he was using it to his advantage.

"That is true," Fortress muttered under his breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose and announced, "Fine. I don't want you as my apprentice anymore. You can deal with Icarus or whatever."

Tommy bit his lip to hide his smile, choosing instead to nod solemnly. The villain dragged him back to the ground and left without another word. Tommy collapsed on the pavement, sweating more now than he ever did with the sun. He should ask Tubbo about good ways to fake his death so these guys would leave him alone.

The laundry weighed heavily in his arms, and he sighed when he had to carry it back home. Tubbo berated him with questions as soon as he got inside, but he was too tired to answer any of them. He set down their laundry to be folded later and shut himself in his room. 

Tommy slept the rest of his Sunday away, but this time, he wasn't stupid enough to wish for everything to return to normal. He knew his wishes never came true.

Chapter Text

Tommy is not surprised to find his morning commute to work has been slowed by a battle. Fire roared through the streets and somewhere in the distance, a fire hydrant had burst, though the water did nothing to quell the flames. Ender-Ice was four blocks away. Four.

Yet, there he was. Stranded on a bus while the bus driver told people to keep calm over the speakers. Bubblegum and Hothead just had to have their fight to the death with Glitch and the Devil in the middle of the street.

Bubblegum had trapped Glitch in place with her signature roots, and Hothead had surrounded him in a wall of fire. The Devil’s shadow power was practically useless against Hothead’s flames, given the whole light-versus-darkness struggle.

Glitch wasn’t a very helpless captive, though, and was violently hacking away at his entrapment from what Tommy could see. The guy had a very simplistic costume for a hero. It was a typical blue bodysuit with a red mask. Nothing flashy or interesting, but it probably had some high-tech modifications given that he was a licensed crime-fighter. They tended to have perks.

The Devil cried out in pain, and Glitch barely had to look up to start healing. Burn marks were gone as fast as they appeared, and Hothead was not pleased. From the bus window, Tommy could see Bubblegum placing a hand on her partner’s shoulder to calm him.

Bubblegum and Hothead weren’t the only villains who had partnered up in Pogtopia. Really, it was quite common to find powered people working together for a common goal. These guys had been a public group since their debut several years back, and the news guessed they were probably family.

There was only one other villain partnership half as well-known as Bubblegum and Hothead, and that was the Corporation. Tommy had the unfortunate tendency to bump into members of the Corporation as of late. It’s members are - Yes! You guessed it! - Icarus, Fortress, and Midnight.

“Hey, we’re evacuating the bus,” a stranger said, pulling Tommy out of his head. Every kid in Pogtopia was taught from a young age how to appropriately evacuate a battle scene. Schools teach that you should walk quickly, but remain calm so as not to distract the city’s beloved heroes from doing their jobs.

Real life was nothing like the drills, which is also something every kid in Pogtopia eventually learns. Adults were usually the ones screaming and running frantically through the streets. Tommy was apathetic to life’s surprises after the previous week, so he meandered down the sidewalk in a way that would make his principal very proud.

In retrospect, he should’ve cared more about this fight in particular. Hothead’s flames were unpredictable, and you never knew where Bubblegum would set a trap for the heroes.

Which is how Tommy ended up with tree roots wrapped around his lower legs.

The majority of other civilians had gotten away, so the streets were practically abandoned aside from him. Cars were left on the road without their drivers, and store owners hid in the building’s mandated basement-bunkers. Any destruction caused by villain fights were covered by the special villain insurance that anyone with money qualified for.

Tommy’s life, however, was not covered by destruction insurance. It would be bad if he died, to say the very least.

The tree roots were wrapped tightly around Tommy’s calves, and he understood why heroes found Bubblegum’s traps so difficult to deal with. He would definitely have bruises. The Devil and Glitch were too busy with their own issues to help him. Speedrunner was usually the one who dealt with evacuation anyway, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He could do nothing but watch the fight unfolding roughly two blocks from him. He didn’t have a safe distance, and that was clear when Hothead’s flames licked an abandoned car, causing it to explode. Tommy could smell the burning rubber and smoke from where he was stuck.

“Why don’t you give it up already, Bubblegum,” the Devil shouted. His costume was made to help him blend into the shadows more, as if he needed help with his power. The completely black fabric of his bodysuit seemed to ripple if you stared directly at it, and a black bandana tied around his eyes hid his identity.

“Don’t disregard my existence,” Hothead responded, sounding livid. “Bubblegum isn’t the only one doing damage here.”

Bubblegum held up a hand, shutting Hothead up immediately. Her tone was far more resolute, “The reason we aren’t giving up is because we’re not the ones losing. From what I can see, your little team is nothing without your main man.”

Speedrunner was often given most of the credit for the success of the Dream Team, despite the fact that they were at their best when they performed together. Hence the team. Tommy didn’t know terribly much about the lives or opinions of heroes, but if the Devil felt underappreciated, it would be reasonable.

“Release me,” Glitch chimed in. He had hacked through the majority of the roots, but they were squeezing ever tighter. Tommy sympathized, sadly. “Fight us fairly.”

“Using my powers makes this unfair?” Bubblegum laughed. The Devil charged, disappearing and reappearing behind her. She was quick to engage in hand-to-hand combat with him. She landed as many punches as he did, and they seemed evenly matched. The woman jumped back quickly, and a wall of fire shot up between them.

Hothead fought mostly with his legs, kicking out in between punches to try and get the Devil’s legs out from underneath him. The flames roared higher even without Hothead’s guidance, and Bubblegum clearly had trouble finding a way to join her companion without getting burnt.

Once she did, the Devil started to struggle. Tommy had to admit that it was impressive to see him stand his ground against two villains in close-quarters. At a few points in the battle, the hero disappeared and reappeared wherever he could find shadows to travel through. The fire limited him, but it was hard to forget he was one of the best in the city.

Another car blew up, closer to Tommy this time.

A pipe clattered as it landed a few yards away from him, and he knew he couldn’t stand still any longer. He bent down and began to scrape at the roots with his nails. They didn’t react in the slightest, but the act felt like dragging his hands down a chalkboard with the unpleasant sensation.

It was no use. The fire had begun to creep towards another car, and he could practically feel the heat on his face. He had to call for help. Tommy straightened up and started to frantically wave his arms. “Hey,” he yelled, calling for anyone who would listen. “Help! I’m stuck!”

Glitch and the Devil didn’t even glance in his direction.

“Please! Someone!” The fire was dangerously close to its next explosive victim. Tommy knew his voice could be loud, but it wasn’t strong enough to carry down two blocks, drowned out by flames and explosions. He waved more desperately.

“Anyone! Please! Glitch! Devil! Hothead! Bubblegum,” he listed names, but no one saw him. Tears pricked his eyes, but he didn’t give up. Tommy tried to twist his legs out, pushing and pulling, anything that might budge the roots slightly. Still nothing.

His voice failed, sticking in his throat as if to mock him. His entire body shook; fear, terror, disbelief. Civilian deaths happened all the time, but it wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He wasn’t supposed to be trapped on a street with no one to notice him.

Tommy’s eyes drifted from the fighters to the flames. The car was a breath away from being set alight, and the distance closed too quickly. It started in the tires, burning rubber polluting his senses. It slithered across the doors, inside them, and the interior melted. Heat hit him like a wave, and the car was completely encased.

One breath.

Two.

BOOM.

Tommy’s eyes snapped shut and he curled in on himself.

Thunder screamed, and the ground shook.

There was a hand on his shoulder.

His ears rang, and despite the contact, he couldn’t force himself to move. There was a click, then another, and all the pressure around his legs evaporated. Tommy started to fall, but he was caught before he could hit the ground.

He peaked one eye open, then the other, and the breath left his lungs. Icarus stared down at him, speaking though the words didn’t reach Tommy. A giant wall of concrete separated them from the explosion. Fortress stood in front of it, arms raised.

Tommy’s brain overloaded, and darkness encapsulated him. He went limp in Icarus’ hold, lost to the world entirely. He had one last thought before he passed out, a single word:

Safe.

~~~~

Tommy was absolutely not safe. His brain was demented and traitorous.

He woke up on the roof of a building he’d never seen before surrounded by the city’s most wanted criminals. On top of that truckload, he also had to process his near death experience, which was returning to his memories piece-by-piece. Kneeling next to Tommy was Icarus, and sitting on the edge of the building was Fortress. Those two alone were trouble, but there was someone else in attendance.

A man with a large hat and a veiled face loomed over him. He recognized this person as Midnight, the third villain on Fortress and Icarus’ team. When comparing top-tier villains, it was difficult to say who out of the Corporation could kill you faster, but Midnight definitely had an advantage.

One of his gifts was a pair of wings, though he used them rarely. On top of that, he performed very similarly to Glitch in group battles. News anchors speculated that his other power was a form of healing, but he had to meditate while doing this. The main fight they referenced when trying to form evidence was the Corporation’s first fight against the Dream Team.

Speedrunner kept Fortress busy while also forming a boundary around Glitch. With this boundary, Glitch could heal uninterrupted. The Devil ambushed from behind, popping out of shadows unpredictably. Icarus had visibly struggled pinpointing him, and Fortress couldn’t assist without risking Speedrunner gaining the upper hand.

Midnight had swooped in from above and landed in the middle of their fight, but instead of joining in, he sat down. The video is choppy throughout the entire documented portion of the battle, but using blurry zoomed-in photos, the news speculates that he turned the tides.

Icarus was about to be attacked from behind, when suddenly he’s consumed by this golden light. It fades quickly, but the villain is still glowing ever-so-slightly. After that, the Devil doesn’t land a single hit, and begins to grow aggravated. Icarus performs whatever magic he has, and the Devil starts to actively lose.

The Dream Team recovers eventually, but it’s only once one of Speedrunner’s knives misses Fortress and Midnight is forced to dodge. Icarus stops glowing at this point and we see the Devil land a hit before the cameras cut out.

Midnight’s costume wasn’t as flashy as the other two, but it had an interesting design. The cloak draped around his shoulders was dark green in color, and his hat matched. The black veil covering his face shimmered when blown by the breeze, but it never failed to protect his identity.

Needless to say, Tommy was scared shitless of this guy.

“This is the worst fucking nightmare I’ve ever had,” he grumbled slightly, leaning more into his pillow as if that would wake him.

Wait, pillow?

He reached up gingerly and his hand found plush, red fabric. He glanced around for an answer and realized that Fortress’ signature red cape was not draped over his shoulders. Tommy wasn’t sure whether to feel unsettled or grateful.

“This isn’t a nightmare,” Icarus said. Stupid villain, telling him what he already knew. “We’re glad you’re okay, Tommy.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy sat up quickly, but his head retaliated and he was forced to go back down. Aside from the massive headache, the ringing in his ears had subsided. Although, now that he thought about it, his ankles were fairly sore. “Why would you save me? You’re a fucking supervillain.”

Icarus flinched and responded softly, “Think of it as an apology. I feel bad that I scared you a few days ago.”

“So you stalked me on my way to work and then saved my life?”

“What? No!” Icarus recoiled, sputtering like an idiot.

“You guys must have a lot of freetime if you can just follow me around so much,” Tommy said. He stretched out his arms, testing if they felt any pain. Thankfully, they were fine.

Icarus threw his hands up, annoyance obvious in his expression. Tommy took great pleasure in that, even letting himself smile slightly. “You are the absolute worst,” the villain groaned. “We were watching the fight to see if Bubblegum and Hothead would need any help when we saw you.”

His smile hesitated. Three top-tier villains revealed themselves just to save him? He vaguely recalled Fortress throwing a wall up around them, and Icarus catching him as he fell, but he wasn’t sure who cut him free of the roots.

Tommy felt Midnight’s eyes on him, and he had his answer.

All three of them saved his life? He was indebted to three supervillains? How the fuck was he supposed to repay that with his minimum wage job? The Ender family was nice, but froyo could only provide so much.

“Thanks, I guess,” he muttered. Tommy slowly propped himself up on his elbows, knowing better than to jump right up. “I’m sorry you had to get involved.”

“Don’t apologize,” a new voice chimed in. It took Tommy a minute to realize it was Midnight, since the veil blocked his mouth from view. “We chose to help you, mate. No one deserves to die like that, especially not you.”

“What do you mean,” Tommy asked.

“You’re special,” Midnight replied. “You have a gift that people like us could only dream of possessing.”

This again?

“Listen, man,” Tommy started. “I appreciate this, I really do, but I’m not whatever you think I am. I work at a froyo shop.”

A light chuckle left the villain, and some part of Tommy thought it sounded vaguely familiar. The voice changer was thick, though, and his suspicions disappeared shortly after. Midnight knelt down as well, and now Fortress was the only one not crowded around him.

“That’s just what you’ve been told, mate,” the man hummed. “Icarus told me that you were extraordinary, and he doesn’t lie about this stuff.”

Tommy glanced at Icarus, who avoided eye contact.

“Your power is Heightened Pain Tolerance, correct,” Midnight asked. Tommy nodded. “I understand how civilians might underplay that, since they don’t know what we do.”

The boy sat up a little more, ignoring the way his back strained. For the past handful of days, he’d been bugged about his gift hundreds of times without explanation. Now, after nearly dying and completely surrounded by enemies, he felt like he would finally know.

“What do you know,” he said, his voice hardly a whisper.

Fortress was staring, but Tommy didn’t care. Midnight reached up and unhooked a chain from around his neck. Icarus opened his mouth to protest, but the man held up a hand and he stopped.

Tommy watched with wide eyes as the supervillain carefully took his necklace into his hands and held it out. In his palm was an odd-looking key. It was gold and had millions of little patterns decorating it, but its most notable feature was its pale glow. Tommy was reminded of the news broadcast, and the light that had flashed over Icarus.

Something clicked in his mind, and the breath left his lungs.

This was a magic item.

This was Midnight’s magic item.

“Holy shit,” Tommy croaked.

“Judging by your reaction, I think it’s safe to assume you know what this is,” Midnight chuckled. Again, the sound was familiar. “This is my magic item. It’s called the Immunity Key.”

Tommy felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

“Whenever I use it, I can grant one person around me complete immunity to attacks,” Midnight explained.

Tommy was overwhelmingly dizzy. Midnight had been in the spotlight as a top-tier villain for longer than he could remember, and his powers were completely up for speculation. Millions of reporters would’ve paid to hear what he was hearing now.

Immunity.

Midnight could cast immunity on his allies. The reason Icarus had gotten the upper hand on the Devil was because it was literally impossible to hit him. This was the topic of arguments, theories, podcasts, and it was right in front of Tommy.

Icarus and Fortress were completely tense as Tommy’s hands moved without thinking. He touched the key, brushed his fingers against its surface with reverence. Midnight didn’t pull it away, even going so far as to laugh under his breath.

“This contributes to your power as well, Tommy,” Midnight said. It snapped the boy out of his trance and he yanked his hand back, shocked by his own actions. The words didn’t go over his head, though.

“What do you mean?” He frowned. “This is yours. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Other children would have died from touching this, Tommy.”

Midnight’s declaration rang through Tommy, shaking him to the core. He scrambled back, curling himself into a ball. Icarus put a hand firmly on his shoulder, but he didn’t deny what was said.

“Magic items in general can be dangerous to both the user and those around them,” Midnight spoke again. He clicked the necklace back onto himself, but he didn’t tuck it into his cloak as it had previously been. “But the keys are special. They’re stronger and part of a set.”

“Why the fuck would you let me touch something that could’ve killed me,” Tommy shouted, lashing out despite Midnight being nothing but kind to him. The man let him, never wavering as the harsh truths hit him. “Do you think I haven’t had enough near-death experiences today?”

“Tommy,” Icarus sighed. There was an edge to his voice. It encouraged him to keep listening, to hear Midnight’s full story. “Trust us.”

He wanted to scream again. He wanted to shout, “Why should I trust you? You’re villains!”

But he didn’t.

Instead, he forced himself to quiet.

“The keys are arguably some of the strongest powers that we know of,” Midnight started again. “With a fair amount of training, one's body can learn to bear their incredible strengths without any harm coming to them. That takes years of apprenticeship for anyone who isn’t you.”

“How did you know?” Tommy ignored the look Icarus cast at him, speaking despite it. “How did you know I was this never-before-seen exception?”

“You showed us,” Fortress stated.

The pink-haired villain rose from his perch by the roof’s edge and settled closer to the group. His brow was stuck in a permanent crease, it seemed, and his blood-red eyes constantly flicked to where Midnight’s key was on full display.

“What are you on about?” Tommy’s breathing was shallow, quick. “I don’t remember doing something like that.”

Icarus and Fortress shared a look.

Tommy’s frown deepened, and the Immunity Key seemed to taunt him from around Midnight’s neck. He had seen something like it before, but he was having trouble remembering where. He could do nothing but watch as Icarus slowly pulled a necklace into view, and Fortress followed in suit.

The key on the end of Icarus’ chain was silver with a frowny face engraved into it. Fortress’ was gold with a singular ruby gem on it. His brain worked quickly to connect the dots, to lead him back to that too-hot day where he hid in Puffy’s shop.

“No fucking way.”

The sun peaked out from behind the clouds, and Tommy felt like he was seeing for the first time. Icarus’ shaggy brown hair and monstrous height. Fortress’ pink hair and strong build. It was clearer than day now.

He knew their true identities.

And he’d held their keys.

Their magic items.

Tommy’s mind blanked, and for the second time that day, he fainted.

Chapter Text

The shop was colder than usual. After a sweltering month of nothing but humidity and suffering, Tommy could finally say he had a use for his hoodie. The main heat wave ended a week prior, and consequently, so did his bad luck.

He didn’t encounter a single heroic battle, his bus was always on time, his customers at Ender-Ice were friendly, and Ranboo had stopped giving him mini heart attacks during his shifts. Tommy was smart enough to know his streak wouldn’t last, but it was nice to pretend for once.

Since his near-death experience, about a week had passed. The city’s major villains had gone completely silent, leaving even the heroes baffled. Tommy knew he didn’t have anything to do with their disappearance, but with each new broadcast about it, he felt more guilty.

A week ago, he had woken up in the staff lounge of Ender-Ice with nothing but a note to explain what happened. It read:

Tommy,

We brought you here because we don’t know where you live. Your coworker left a voicemail on your phone, but he wasn’t here when we showed up, so we just left you. We’re going to give you space to think about our proposition. If you need us, you’ll find us.

The note wasn’t signed, but he knew who wrote it. Once he was fully awake, he took in as much information as he could handle. He held the identities of some of the most dangerous villains in the city, which should’ve prompted him to immediately call the cops.

Instead, he spent thirty minutes staring at the checkered floor of Ender-Ice hating himself. Not because he’d recklessly touched multiple magic items, or almost died in an explosion, not even because he was now on the radar of several mass murderers. No, that wasn’t what got him.

It was the fact that he had ordered Icarus’ nuggets right in front of him and then made the villain in question kneel on the ground. The thought alone made him groan with embarrassment. Why had he been allowed to do that? Why wasn’t he dead?

After bashing his head against a table a few times, he got to work opening the shop and preparing for customers. Like the note said, Ranboo left a voicemail for him. It just said that he was busy helping his parents with something and couldn’t come into work in time to supervise Tommy’s shift.

That night, when he got home, he found out that Mecha and Blink had another notable appearance. The heroes were usually kept busy by villains, but they were free to take on other opponents with the recent break. The vigilantes found themselves engaged in a battle with a smaller hero.

Alien was one of the only heroes that covered his face entirely with a mask. Most super-powered people just had some sort of cloth over their eyes or mouth, but not this guy. The purple fabric was thin, easy to breathe through, and it had green decorative eyes designed on the face.

The rest of his costume was fairly low-effort; a purple hoodie, shorts, and sneakers. Tommy never understood why licensed heroes didn’t put more effort into the way they looked. They had the perks of organizations backing them, but no! They just let the villains look better on the battlefield!

The news anchor had practically no information on how the two vigilantes had stumbled across a hero, but Tommy figured they were probably ambushed on patrol. It wasn’t uncommon to see vigilantes getting into fights with the authorities, given the fact that they were technically going against the law by acting like unlicensed heroes.

If a vigilante got licensed with an organization, their track record of illegal activities always seemed to mysteriously disappear. Alien had probably started as a vigilante, but he was now known as one of the youngest heroes to ever be licensed.

The internet didn’t have much information on him, but that was because he wasn’t big on interviews. They did know a couple of cool facts, like how his powers came from a power-enhancing magic item. That meant that his birth power, super jump, was made better by his item.

His brain couldn’t help but compare power-enhancing items to the Keys. Tommy was biased heavily due to his birth power being shit, but items that could give you a new magic seemed much better. Even without them, though, Alien was a tough guy to fight.

Mecha and Blink held their own, mostly due to Blink’s extraordinary new talent. Mecha had a few drones hovering around them, but they couldn’t do much against someone as agile as Alien. If this had been a planned fight, Tommy knew Mecha would’ve come better prepared.

The news had no sound besides the speaking of the broadcaster, which was odd. With the help of more technological gifts like Tubbo’s, most programs could pick up speaking from ages away. Whatever was being said, it must’ve been purposefully tuned out.

It was clear after a few minutes that the fight was going nowhere. Both groups dodged attacks like it was nothing, and basically no hits made contact. The news anchor switched back to their usual program, seeming almost disappointed. They likely weren’t making half as much money without villain fights to fill their runtime.

But that night was a week ago. Now, Tommy was working the opening shift at Ender-Ice. Ranboo had been really busy with whatever tall dudes like him got up to first thing in the morning. He missed the company a bit, but his shift was beyond easy without the usual rowdy customers.

Tommy couldn’t complain for once in his life. His week was almost perfect if it weren’t for the memories looming over him. Memories of bumping into strangers on the sidewalk, publicly embarrassing them for an apology, and then having them save his life.

A customer approached the counter just in time to see him lightly slam his head against the countertop. She appeared concerned, but paid for her froyo nevertheless. Tommy didn’t care what she thought of him. He was too occupied with fatal regrets.

His mind drifted to their identities. Techno and Fortress. Wilbur and Icarus. Only Midnight remained unknown.

God, he was so fucked.

They had no reason to reveal themselves like that. Not for someone like Tommy. He wasn’t even special until a week ago. He was just some kid working minimum wage and bumming off his uncle’s money. He should’ve left those guys on the street alone. He should’ve ignored their dropped keys. They would’ve gotten them eventually.

But how many people would attempt to hold them before that? How many people would’ve died? If Midnight was telling the truth, no one could handle them without training.

Tommy grimaced at the thought of someone dropping dead after trying to return keys to their owner. It could’ve been him. If he hadn’t been born with the one gift that protected him, he would have been dead right then and there.

Since the day he discovered his powers, the kids around him made his life a living hell. They would test Tommy’s limits by kicking and punching and shoving, laughing the entire time. He was passed around from foster home to foster home because the schools would find a way to blame Tommy for all the bruises he got.

If he was being honest, his gift hadn’t always been the way it was now.

It started off with just pain tolerance. He couldn’t feel the kicking, but he bruised like a normal kid. They broke his ribs once, and that was a pain he could feel. The resistance developed after his broken bones healed for the first time. They grew back stronger, and his skin was thicker. He was too young to know it was his gift at work.

When Tommy’s uncle came into the picture, things improved a bit. He had a consistent home, and full access to a doctor. It was his uncle who got the specialized doctors to run a few safe tests on him. They thought his tolerance was a disorder, but the resistance forced them to change their mind. That was when Tommy knew he was gifted.

He could count on one hand all the times he had been thankful for his gift.

The first time was when a foster parent brought home a dog off the street that was apparently not fond of children. He had sustained only a bite mark and a bruise on his lower arm.

The second was when his bullies first started to make more physical visits. They didn’t fully grasp his tolerance at first, so after a few feigned groans of pain, they fucked off. The next time, though, they weren’t as gentle.

And the third was when he picked up two magic items at the same time.

God fucking damnit.

The next woman in line slipped five dollars into his tip jar and whispered, “You look like you need it.”

Tommy forced himself to return to his customer service mode for everyone after her. They didn’t do anything to him. They just wanted froyo. He knew better than to falter at work, especially when his problems were entirely his fault.

All he had to do was ignore the villains from them on. They couldn’t force him to be their apprentice. Well, they could, but he had a feeling that would backfire on them.

And then he was zoning out again, moving with autopilot. He smiled at customers, exchanged cash for coins, and thanked them for their tips, but he wasn’t really present. Tommy’s mind went to Tubbo, who didn’t know anything about his roommate’s situation.

Tubbo worked more hours during summer, so he wasn’t around until evenings. He came home tired and dirty, stealing the shower at the first second he could. He brought back less unfinished projects, but somehow he was always working on something. Tommy didn’t pry, because then Tubbo would ask about his day, and Tommy was afraid he would break.

There was no telling what Tubbo would do if he found out villains were after his roommate. When he figured out bullies had found Tommy’s route to school, he started walking with him no matter how tired he was. Tubbo didn’t have that kind of time or energy anymore, but he was always quick to try and help.

“Your total is five dollars and twenty-nine cents,” Tommy said, oblivious to the world around him as he ran through the motions. “Cash or card?”

“Neither.”

He blinked, because that’s not what the customers usually say, and autopilot couldn’t handle that.

“I beg your pardon?”

The man in front of him was on the shorter side, with a scruffy face and an unkept shirt. He didn’t seem like the type to coupon.

Tommy was right.

A gun pressed against his chest.

“Give me all the money in the register.”

Tommy bit back a sigh, because of course his luck had to end while he was still working. Ender-Ice was in a relatively good area, so robbery was not a usual occurrence. The cameras were still getting fixed since Icarus’ little visit, and the other customers had left long before. His phone was in the break room, but it was out of battery since he’d failed to charge it the night before.

The barrel of the gun dug into his skin. He barely felt it.

Tommy methodically opened the register. As cocky as his power made him feel during times of crisis, he couldn’t survive a bullet through the heart. Maybe it would take the bullet a split second longer to pierce his skin, but his resistance was null and void if he died.

“Hurry up!” The man was impatient, like so many Karens before him. Tommy had half a mind to treat him like he did them. “C’mon!”

The gun shook ever-so-slightly. Tommy raised an eyebrow, pausing on unloading the register. The man had a twitch in the corner of his mouth, and his hands sat uncomfortably on his weapon. If Tommy had to guess, he hadn’t used a gun before.

What were the chances that he’d actually shoot?

No.

Tommy returned to pulling cash out. He wasn’t someone who could take a chance like that. Even a fool could pull a trigger. There was no way for him to call the paramedics if he did get hurt. Tubbo would kill him if he died.

“Stop stalling,” the man urged. Tommy couldn’t help but think that the guy wasn’t terribly intimidating. “You’re being slow on purpose!”

Tommy huffed before he could stop himself.

“Are you laughing at me?”

That wasn’t good. The man’s hand was shaking more, but his finger was hovering over the trigger now. Perhaps he wouldn’t shoot normally, but if someone crazy enough to rob a froyo store felt his dignity was on the line, that might be enough.

Tommy had only pulled out their fives and ones so far. There was more in the register, but he was hesitating. He felt that each breath he took pressed the gun closer to him. He needed to move, to do anything. This guy was jumpy, shaking. Anything could set him off.

The bells on the door jingled.

The man flinched. Hard.

Tommy shoved the gun away, but he wasn’t quick enough. The blast echoed through the store and his vision exploded with stars. Pain greater than any he’d felt before shot through his limbs.

He heard a woman scream, but through his haze he couldn’t make out any faces. The blurry figure of the man grabbed the cash on the counter and shoved through the door. Tommy stumbled, his entire weight leaning against the counter. The woman was still screaming.

He extended a hand to her, but he couldn’t speak. He needed her to call an ambulance. She kept screaming.

Tommy took a step towards her. She needed to see that he was hurt. She needed to call someone. She didn’t understand, and then the door’s bells were jingling again. He tried to reach for her as she ran out of the store. His hand was entirely red.

His vision blurred harder. Tommy needed someone to see him, to help him. He pushed off the counter, almost toppling over when a burning pain seared his skin. He caught himself on the door handle, and put all his weight into pushing it open.

Tommy fell onto the sidewalk outside. The street was clear of people, and the woman was long gone. A pained noise bubbled out of his throat, and everything spilled out. Tears ran down his cheek, sobs wracked his chest, but he didn’t want to give up.

“Tubbo,” he whispered. “Uncle.”

They couldn’t hear him. Tubbo was working and his uncle was cities away.

“Ranboo,” he said, slightly louder.

Ranboo was at home, attending an online class.

“Puffy.”

Puffy would be behind the desk of her laundromat, smiling at patrons.

“Please.”

Who else did he know? Who else could pull him out of this? Who else would rush to his side? Who else would save his life?

Icarus.

“ICARUS,” he cried, abandoning his every breath for this one last call.

“Tommy?”

Tommy turned, and his eyes caught on a figure. It was too late. He tipped over, succumbing to the darkness pinching at his mind.

~~~~

“I cleaned up the place, but the owners are still going to freak out.”

Tommy’s eyelids refused to open when he first woke up. He couldn’t terribly understand why until consciousness reminded him of the pain he was currently feeling. It wasn’t as visceral as it had been when he’d gone under, but it was throbbing all the same.

There was a wet cloth over his forehead and eyes, and he was oddly comforted by the cool presence. He wasn’t sure where he was, or what had happened, but he was awake. That was all that mattered to him at the time. He wasn’t dead.

“He’s a lucky kid,” a voice said, and Tommy remained still. He didn’t know this person, but he wasn’t scared. “The bullet lodged in his upper arm, which we safely removed and bandaged. If it weren’t for his resistance, the bullet would’ve traveled further and hit an artery.”

Tommy flinched at the idea. He knew he’d been shot, at least subconsciously. It was the natural conclusion to reach after someone held a gun to his chest and he felt such unbelievable pain. Except, at the time, he was so distressed by the pain that he didn’t know the details.

“I thought resistance was only a minor part of his gift,” another person spoke up. Tommy bristled at the sound of Icarus’ voice.

No, not Icarus. Wilbur.

Icarus had a voice changer, lower and more intimidating. This was the voice that spoke to Tommy in the After-Hours bar, who begged forgiveness. He wasn’t a villain right now, but a normal person.

“According to our scans,” the first person said, and shuffling could be heard. “His entire power is resistance. You told us it was Heightened Pain Tolerance, but that appeared to be more of a minor bonus.”

Tommy frowned against his best interest, and he heard someone approach. The towel moved from his eyes, but he still struggled to open them. He was in a fairly normal-looking bedroom, though he didn’t recognize a thing. The mattress beneath him groaned as someone leaned on it. It took all of his effort to turn his head.

Wilbur sat on the edge of the bed, his face changing like he couldn’t pick between being worried or relieved. Tommy thought he was odd. Over his shoulder, another man hovered. This guy had shaggy white hair, a green cap, and a pair of matching gloves on his hands.

It was fair to assume this guy was the one he’d overheard, and that he was some sort of doctor. Although, he didn’t feel like he was in a hospital. With his uncle’s profession being a literal heart surgeon, Tommy had seen his fair share of hospitals. They were boring and white, with maybe a splash of tan here and there.

“Welcome back, kid,” the new guy said, grinning. His voice was oddly deep, though it didn’t reach quite the same octave as Fortress’ did. “How was the brink of death?”

“Boomer,” Wilbur snapped. “Don’t joke like that. He probably doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

Wilbur was, unfortunately, right. Tommy was so unbelievably lost, mentally and physically. He didn’t recall more than a few seconds after he was shot, and the world around him felt oddly foreign.

“Sorry,” the guy, Boomer, huffed. It didn’t sound genuine. “I’ve gotta step out and see if his x-rays are ready, so while I’m gone, try not to make him pass out again. He needs to answer some questions.”

Boomer left him alone with Wilbur. Tommy wanted to frown, until he remembered that he already was. He hadn’t acknowledged it sooner, but there was a fog in his mind that bordered on unnatural. It messed with the way he was thinking.

“You have the worst luck.”

Wilbur’s words snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He couldn’t nod for fear of excruciating consequences, but he agreed. Whatever aetherial being ruled over their world must fucking hate him.

“We took extra care to make sure this wouldn’t happen, too,” Wilbur hummed, saddening visibly. Tommy lifted an eyebrow. “Bubblegum and Hothead felt very badly after your little incident. They wanted to apologize in person, but we didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Ah, Tommy thought, so they weren’t aware they sucked at subtlety. That explained so much.

“We kept out of trouble for the whole week,” the brunette man explained wistfully. “That’s the longest we’ve ever gone without a battle. Techno’s itching for it, you know, but we all agreed it was safer for you if we didn’t.”

“What happened,” Tommy croaked. He surprised himself with the weakness of his own voice. There was a slurring to his words, as if he didn’t quite have the ability to annunciate yet. His throat stung a bit, but he ignored it.

“I found you outside the froyo place just bleeding all over the place,” the other chuckled, as if it were a joke, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I probably wouldn’t have found you if it weren’t for your loud-ass screaming.”

Tommy recalled vaguely that he’d asked for help, but the details escaped him.

“Your powers saved you. I’m not sure if you heard Boomer, but your resistance is the only reason you didn’t bleed out.” Wilbur’s gaze was focused completely on the ground. “I got you here as fast as I could.”

“Where are we,” Tommy asked, only slightly louder than before. The wallpaper had lilypads dotting it, and now that he could turn his head, he noticed an IV next to him. It was different from the ones he’d seen at his uncle’s work.

“Boomer’s house,” Wilbur responded. “You probably know him as Leapfrog.”

Tommy jolted at the name. For a brief second, he’d let himself forget about villains and heroes, but life never let him go for long. Leapfrog was a big name in their city, renowned among villains. His gift wasn’t one that tended to be seen on the evil side of the spectrum, after all.

In most cases, the public had little knowledge of the villains, aside from what they displayed publicly. Leapfrog was different. From what Tommy could remember, he was a hero-in-training that switched to the other side. It wasn’t unheard of to have a few traitors scattered around, but it was surprising.

Because he was in training, the heroes had old files on him. They were made public when Leapfrog was labeled as an official villain. According to those reports, he had a minor healing power made better by an enhancer.

He was, for lack of a better word, villainized in the media more harshly than traitors before him because of his gift. They wondered why anyone would ever choose to aid the enemies when he was treated so well as a hero. Tommy had to admit that he was curious as well.

“Leapfrog’s house is obviously a secret, so I can’t tell you where exactly we are,” Wilbur said. “But he’s a good person. He healed you without a second thought, and I doubt there’s anyone more qualified than him. Except for Glitch, maybe.”

Wilbur and Tommy hadn’t talked much after that. Boomer came back fifteen minutes later. He carried a stack of papers and set them all on a table in the corner. He picked up a top few and brought them for Tommy to look over.

With significant help, Tommy was able to sit up. Boomer handed him pictures of the x-rays they had supposedly taken when he was sleeping. He pointed out where the bullet had lodged itself in his skin, barely missing a bone and stopping a breath away from a major artery.

“Wil tells me your power is Heightened Pain Tolerance,” Boomer mentioned, and Tommy nodded. “I’d like to talk to you about that, actually. We noticed a few abnormalities between the scans and what we were told.”

Boomer sat, and together they analyzed the scans. Tommy answered whatever questions he could about the incident itself, up until everything became foggy. Wilbur stood by the door, clearly unsure of what to do with himself.

“So, the main issue with this is that your power should not have had this reaction to the bullet,” Boomer explained. He pointed to the injury. “It should’ve traveled all the way through the arm, for starters, and the point-blank blast should’ve caused this bone to completely shatter. Pain tolerance doesn’t do that, Tommy.”

The boy bristled. “I have a little bit of resistance,” he pointed out. Boomer pursed his lips. “Wouldn’t that do something?”

“A little bit of resistance might be the reason why your muscles aren’t completely in shreds, but not this,” the white-haired man said. “I have a theory, but I don’t know if it’s certain.”

“Spit it out,” Wilbur muttered.

“I think you have fluctuating gifts.”

Tommy blinked. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It means that I think your pain tolerance and your resistance are two separate gifts that come forward depending on your situation,” Boomer said. “You said that your gift was pain tolerance with resistance as a side effect, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

Wilbur was listening now. “What does that mean for this situation,” he inquired. “Where did you even think of something like this?”

“There have been studies in the past that the hero organizations did to test a similar theory. I snuck a look at those reports once, and it sounds really similar to this.” Boomer stretched, a pleased smile on his face. “They think that most people are born with more than one gift, but they’re so miniscule compared to their main powers that they’re overlooked.”

“How does that relate to me,” Tommy prodded. Boomer rolled his eyes at the kid’s impatience.

“If you look at the scans, it’s clear that’s a little more resistance than we thought you were capable of,” he said. “I believe your pain tolerance reacted to your brain's distress and boosted the resistance. I imagine this was possible because your body put all the energy it usually spends on tolerance into resistance on that one spot, and it saved your ass.”

“No kidding,” Wilbur gasped incredulously. “That means he has the capabilities of switching gifts within milliseconds. How much more amazing could this kid get?”

Tommy would’ve flushed at the compliment if it weren’t for his mind struggling to keep up. Two powers? Switching gifts? He didn’t want to believe it. He wasn’t special, and he never had been.

But how else do you explain this?

He glanced over the scan. He was fine despite the millions of things that should’ve been wrong with him. Boomer told him during their initial talk that he’d have to wear a sling for a while and get physical therapy, but he was healthy besides that.

It was partially thanks to Leapfrog’s astounding gift that his few torn muscles were healing, and that the wound itself would only leave a mild scar. Tommy was forced to consider the idea that maybe he was a little special.

Boomer insisted that Tommy spend the night at his house, and from the aching in his legs, he really didn’t have much of a choice. The call to Tubbo had been emotional, and the call to Ranboo was somehow worse. They both wanted to know where he was, and he was forced to lie.

Fortunately, they accepted his story about being saved by someone with an impressive healing gift just fine, insisting only that he keep them updated. He didn’t dare call his uncle. Wilbur stayed with him for as long as he could, but eventually he had to get home as well.

Tommy didn’t sleep much that night, and the amount he did get was fitful. There wasn’t anything he could do but hope; Hope for his arm to heal, hope for his powers to be understood, and hope that he could make it out of this safely.

Chapter Text

Boomer turned out to be very good company. This was, of course, presuming that Tommy did not have a headache. If he did, the man was not always appreciated. He appeared at first glance to be casual and laid back, but he was loud when he wanted to be.

“Good morning,” his distinctive voice catapulted down the hall after a long night of no sleep. Boomer strolled through the door with his green cap on backwards and his sleeves rolled up. He barely glanced at Tommy before getting to work at the desk in the corner. “You’re lookin’ a lot better today! More color in your cheeks.”

Tommy would argue otherwise. At some point in the night, whatever was in the IV ran out, and the throbbing pain became worse. It wasn’t unbearable, he had to admit, but his arm ached and his body followed.

Boomer hummed as he worked, and Tommy could only watch. He fixed an IV bag with a liquid that was probably water, and squeezed a few drops of something red in, which immediately dissolved. The white-haired man stepped over to Tommy, and fixed the bag onto his IV.

The result was instantaneous. A rush of adrenaline pumped into Tommy’s mind, and the light pains faded into more of a pins-and-needles feeling. Boomer grinned at the sight of relief on his patient’s face. “I still got it! Remember to tell Wilbur how much you’ve enjoyed my treatment so he brings ya back.”

“Brings me back,” Tommy echoed, sounding weak, but stronger than the day before. “What did you even do?”

“You, my friend, are yet another one of my many success stories,” Boomer declared. “You can tell all your buddies that you’ve been treated by Leapfrog, and that I’m very awesome.”

Tommy imagined how Tubbo would take that news. No matter what the reaction, he didn’t see it going well. Ranboo was probably the only other person he talked to around his age. By no means was this a visit he wanted to brag about.

He was able to conclude now that Boomer had put some of his blood into the IV, and Tommy was impressed. Any form of healing magic was something to behold, but it was rare. He personally knew one kid who had a similar gift, but they weren’t friends and the guy couldn't heal others, only himself.

Leapfrog was an ex-hero, which meant he was better than the average folk. Tommy had his arm as proof. Boomer changed the bandages with a pleased smile on his face, and he had the opportunity then to see the wound. He expected to be surprised, but he was blown away.

There was evidence of where he’d been stitched up, but the skin around it had closed beyond the need for them. There was already a bit of scarring that would probably never fully go away, but Tommy only mildly wanted to throw up at the sight.

“Why are we putting bandages on,” Tommy asked. “It’s not bleeding anymore.”

“My gift is strong, but I’m not a miracle worker,” Boomer chuckled. “It’s safest to treat it the way we treat normal gunshot wounds, just in case it decides to reopen.”

Tommy nodded, and eventually they finished with the general routine. A knock on the door made him jump, but Boomer hardly acknowledged it. A lady poked her head in. She had a small crown of flowers sitting on her hair, which had been carefully braided.

When she fully pushed in, she was carrying a tray of food, and Tommy’s stomach reacted accordingly. He had been too tired for dinner the previous night, so hunger gnawed at him. He took it as a good sign that he felt well enough to eat.

“This is Hannah,” Boomer introduced. The woman smiled widely. “She was a hero-in-training with me, but you probably don’t know her. She’s pretty irrelevant.”

Hannah scoffed and kicked Boomer’s shin. The man doubled over in pain as she handed Tommy his breakfast. “He’s an idiot,” she said. “Don’t listen to anything he says. My hero name was Eden, but I wasn’t very public. The hero organizations thought I wasn’t good enough for my own article.”

Eden sounded vaguely familiar, but not anything like Leapfrog. Tommy tried his best, but he couldn’t recall much. She had something to do with plants, and apparently she was the best at making pancakes. Maybe it was because he was starving, but they were fucking flawless.

Boomer recovered at some point, although he feigned a limp to get an eye roll reaction from Hannah. So busy devouring everything on his plate, Tommy didn’t notice the little flower in a tiny cup of water that had also been brought in. It grew subtly, and the boy finally realized it’s existence when a leaf brushed his arm.

Hannah controlled it with a wave of her finger, and Tommy became utterly enthralled. The bloom was something he’d never seen before in the store. It was white with speckles of pink and blue. Hannah made a show of looping its ever-growing stem around Tommy’s hurt arm, but when it reached the wound, it stopped.

“This is going to sting a bit,” she warned, but her tone was so pleasant that the boy hardly flinched. The flower pressed its petals over the bandages that covered his wound. A wet feeling seemed to soak through the flower, and it seeped into his skin. For a brief moment, he experienced the sting, but it was gone just as fast.

“What are you doing,” Tommy whispered, as if something too loud would disturb the process. Hannah smirked at the wonder in his eyes.

“This is a new plant I’ve been working on,” Hannah said. “Boomer’s blood tends to leave the skin dry and uncomfortable for a while after healing it. This flower naturally produces a liquid that moisturizes and cleanses infected areas. We put it over the bandages to keep the liquid in place.”

Tommy snapped, suddenly remembering what Eden’s power was.

“You can make plants!” He hadn’t intended to declare it quite so loudly, but the other two weren’t disturbed in the slightest.

“That’s right,” Hannah confirmed, and Tommy’s chest swelled with pride. “My gift allows me to pick and choose features that I want from the parent plants to create seedlings that are completely under my control.”

“They thought you weren’t good enough for publicity,” Tommy scoffed. “Bullshit. This is the coolest birth power I’ve ever seen.”

Boomer and Hannah raised skeptical eyebrows, but the latter stood taller. The flower retracted after a few minutes and the two left him alone with his breakfast. Boomer suggested he try to nap again, and told him that Wilbur was planning to visit later in the afternoon.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Wilbur anymore. First impressions were supposed to be crucial, but that was obviously fucked. Icarus was a literal supervillain, but he had never hurt Tommy; Some nobody who could barely hold a gun did more damage.

Not to mention, his life had been saved twice by the supposed villain.

Tommy didn’t know Wilbur well, but he had a feeling he would have plenty of opportunities once he was healthy again. He’d tried his best to avoid them, and that didn’t work. He wanted to blame all his bad luck on them, but if he really thought about it, the villains had done more for him than he cared to admit.

Tommy managed to sleep for a few hours. His body completely gave in to his exhaustion, and his rest was thankfully dreamless. Boomer woke him a little after noon to change his bandages.

“Wilbur called to say that he’ll be picking you up tonight,” the man said, fixing a new IV bag with fresh blood. “I don’t know everything about your situation, but you must be one hell of an apprentice for him to be this worried.”

Tommy hesitated. “I’m not his apprentice, exactly,” he started slowly, unsure of how Boomer would take the news. “He just keeps bothering the fuck out of me.”

“Yeah, that was my second guess,” the other chuckled. “He’s fucking irritating. If you think this is bad, never play monopoly with him.”

He wasn’t sure when he’d ever be doing that, but Tommy noted it anyway. Boomer had his back to him, going through his supplies like he did it daily. Curiosity bubbled under his skin, and he was never fond of silence.

“Why’d you leave the heroes,” Tommy blurted. He cringed at the way Boomer’s shoulders fell. The white-haired man turned around slowly, and his smile was sad. “Sorry, that was personal. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Boomer laughed half-heartedly, “No, it’s fine. You seem like a good dude, so I know you’re not just asking to be an ass.”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispered.

“It’s nothing pleasant.” Boomer walked slowly and sat next to Tommy, beginning the process of changing his bandages. “The heroes are pretty strict about their training programs, and I was no exception. They already had Glitch as a top hero, so I was pretty much doomed to just be shoved in the infirmary to help with those deemed less important by the higher-ups.”

“You’re right. That does suck,” Tommy sighed.

“That’s not why I left,” Boomer replied grimly. Tommy shut up. “As you know, my power comes from my blood. I have one thing about my gift that Glitch could never do, but it came at an intense price.”

He pulled the bandages tighter, and Tommy bit back a wince. Boomer’s hat had a tiny frog face on it that he hadn’t noticed before. It didn’t match the tension in the air.

“I can heal fatal wounds,” Boomer said. “Glitch can’t do that. Honestly, I really shouldn’t be able to either, but after a few… tests… it was determined that I could. Only problem is that it takes a dangerous amount of my blood to do it.”

Tommy held his breath. He had a feeling he knew where the story was going.

“One day, in the middle of training, they brought in this hero I had never officially met.” Boomer’s hands clenched into fists. “He looked fucking awful, all cut up and dying. They didn’t tell me anything, but I knew this wasn’t someone Glitch could help. I didn’t want to, but what was I supposed to do?”

Tommy’s gut churned.

Boomer crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I was in the hospital for weeks, and only Hannah visited. The moment I could get back to training, I said I would never do that again. The higher-ups pulled me into their office and told me it was my duty as a future hero to sacrifice myself for the greater good.”

“So you left,” Tommy guessed.

“So I left,” Boomer agreed. “They called me a selfish deserter, but if it’s selfish to want to keep living, then maybe I am. Hannah came with me, although she has her own story. The villains never ask me to give up my life for them, and that’s really all I need.”

Tommy’s heart clenched in his chest.

Bommer said his next sentence sincerely, “I really hope you consider being an apprentice. You seem like you have morals. I think you could make this place worth something again.”

“Can you explain more about my powers,” the boy replied. He couldn’t stop himself. “You told me I could switch between resistance and pain tolerance. How do you know?”

Boomer stood, busying himself by attaching the new IV bag. Tommy tried to ignore the relief he felt when the other’s gift began to work. He didn’t expect the question he was asked, “How much did the bullet hurt?”

Tommy recoiled, but it was hard to forget. “More than anything I’ve ever felt in my life,” he answered truthfully.

“According to my theory, that wouldn’t be the case if you only had pain tolerance. Your full energy would be channeling into making the blow hurt as little as possible, so it realistically shouldn’t have affected you that much.”

Boomer continued, “The first thing we learn in medical school is how the brain works with gifts. Depending on the power, it reacts to situations and determines how much energy it should devote to it. In your situation, life or death, it chose to pull out all the energy it had been spending on pain tolerance and shoved everything into resistance.”

“So, my brain is just really cool,” Tommy mumbled. Boomer cracked a smile.

“It’s like a fight or flight instinct,” he explained further. “Your brain has known how to do this since your gift first developed. By pumping all your energy into fueling your gift of resistance, it was able to completely stop an otherwise fatal bullet.”

Tommy didn’t ask any other questions, and Boomer slipped from the room a few minutes later. Hannah stopped by with a different flower for his arm, and gave him a glass of water that she instructed him to only drink when Wilbur told him to.

He slept for three more hours, and woke to a creaking door. Through the haze of sleep, Tommy could vaguely make out a familiar figure pushing into the room. Wilbur smiled at him, and he was immediately agitated. Those kind eyes weren’t supposed to come from people who were basically strangers.

Tubbo smiled at him like that. Ranboo smiled at him like that. Puffy smiled at him like that. Everyone else glared, hit, kicked, punched. No one was supposed to like him outside of his tiny social circle. It was a fact of his life. So why did a supervillain look so happy to see him?

“Whatever you’re about to say,” the boy grumbled, stretching. “I’m sure it’s really stupid.”

Wilbur’s smile dropped to a playful glare. “That’s not a nice thing to say to someone who’s in charge of your medical health right now.”

“You can’t do shit to me, bitch,” Tommy said. He’d made peace with the fact that his powers were likely the only reason the top-tier villains hadn’t wiped him off the face of the earth. If his guess was correct, they couldn’t hurt him.

“Oh, really? Hannah has a whole garden of poisonous plants that I’m sure she’d love to test,” Wilbur taunted. The man had his hands in his pocket, and his smirk was cocky in the most annoying way. “But we’ll have plenty of time for that during your physical therapy.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, sitting up. He noticed that his arm didn’t protest quite as much as he’d expected. Boomer’s gift was insane. “We’re coming back here for physical therapy?”

“Well, yeah,” Wilbur snorted like it was obvious. “Where else would you go? A hospital? They’ll ask you about the injury and you’ll have to find a way to explain why you’re completely fine without any medical records.”

Hannah came into the room with a vase of flowers and an object he didn’t recognize. She put the vase on the desk and handed him the weird thing. Tommy’s bad arm had a surprisingly tough time gripping it, but Hannah stopped him from switching to his other hand.

“Technically my license was revoked when I sided with the villains,” she laughed sheepishly. “But I was a physical therapist once. It comes in handy with most of Boomer’s patients.”

“What’s this thingy,” Tommy asked. It seemed to be two sticks of rubber connected by a few springs.

“It’s to help with your grip strength. You’re gonna be weaker than normal for a while, but this is something you can do at home between our sessions,” she answered. “We’re set to have an appointment every three days, okay? We can work around your schedule, since we’re not terribly busy right now.”

Tommy was beyond grateful. He glanced over at the vase of odd-looking flowers, and Hannah brought them over.

“I need you to pluck a petal from one of these every few hours and press it to your wound. I don’t care if you use bandages or even tape to hold it in place, but it’s going to make the skin heal better. It might even tone down the scarring.”

Hannah left Wilbur alone with Tommy after that, and he felt oddly satisfied. Most doctors he’d met were assholes, aside from his uncle. They didn’t like the presence of their coworker’s nephew hovering in their break room.

Boomer and Hannah weren’t like them. They didn’t know him half as well as his uncle’s coworkers did, but they treated him like a person. Maybe it was just because Icarus was a powerful presence, but even without him, they were friendly.

“How’s the arm feeling,” Wilbur inquired, sitting in the chair next to his bed. Tommy tested the pain by rolling his shoulders. He winced, but with the IV still working, it just felt fuzzy.

“I didn’t know anyone was capable of doing this,” Tommy admitted honestly. His uncle’s work often had people with minor healing gifts, but that usually meant they took care of cuts and bruises. Gunshots were out of the question.

“Boomer’s the best in the city.” Wilbur leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. Tommy quirked an eyebrow, and the older man seemed to read his mind. “I don’t like Glitch. That guy’s unnatural. It doesn’t take him any time to heal, and it defies all logic that usually comes with a healing power.”

Tommy supposed that made sense. If you ignored the obvious rivalry they would have as heroes and villains, Glitch was too perfect. Boomer told him earlier that the guy couldn’t heal fatal wounds, but that was the first time Tommy heard a single negative thing about him.

“Ica - I mean - Wilbur?” The man in question hummed in acknowledgement. “What does an apprentice usually do?”

Wilbur visibly perked up, but he tried to play it off. “Depends on if it’s heroes or villains,” he said, trying too hard to act uninterested. “Heroes don’t tend to take on apprentices. Their organization gets heroes-in-training and then they might assign them as a sidekick to a bigger name.”

“What about villains?”

“It depends on the status of the villain, but they’re all taught basics in survival, battles, and harnessing their powers.” Wil’s gaze locked on Tommy’s bandaged arm. “The apprentices are treated with the same respect as their mentors, usually. Petty criminals would know better than to pick on them.”

Tommy fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“The apprentices follow their mentors around until their mentor either dies, or lets them leave to make their own name,” Wilbur continued. “If the mentor dies, their apprentice is the first in line to inherit their magic item.”

When Tommy closed his eyes, he could see Boomer bleeding himself dry to save someone he didn’t know. He could see Alien ambushing Mecha and Blink for no reason. He could see Glitch and the Devil with their backs towards him as he called their names.

When he opened his eyes, he could see Wilbur smiling at him. He could see Fortress throwing a wall between him and the explosion. He could see Hannah making him vases of flowers. He could see Midnight holding out his most precious possession. He could see Icarus saving his life for the second time in a week.

Tommy took a deep breath.

“I want to be your apprentice.”

Chapter Text

“Techno! Get your ass in here!”

Techno peeked his head around the corner in time to see Wilbur slam their front door with the ferocity that only an excited hipster could possess. His brother grabbed him by his sleeve - a very unwelcome pull given the fine fabric he was wearing - and led him into the kitchen.

Phil was busily preparing dinner, and barely glanced up as his boys stormed in. His shadow wings were folded behind him, politely basking in the dimmed lights. Wilbur released Techno and stood on a chair.

“I have an announcement,” the brunette declared.

Phil paused his carrot chopping to exchange a glance with Techno.

“I think he has an announcement,” Techno snickered. His brother frowned, though his adrenaline never faltered.

“Tommy is officially my apprentice,” Wilbur said.

Now his family was listening.

“Oh, that’s great! So you got your powers to work on him, finally,” Phil hummed lightly.

Wilbur blinked. “What? No.”

“You managed to find something to blackmail him with,” Techno guessed. “Like his family’s lives.”

“No! I didn’t threaten him or use my powers at all!” Wilbur crossed his arms, stepping off the chair. “Don’t tell me you guys really believe that’s the only way Tommy would agree.”

Phil raised an eyebrow and returned to his chopping board. Techno stifled a laugh. Wilbur gasped incredulously.

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” he whined. “He asked me what it entailed and then said he wanted to be my apprentice. Boomer and Hannah can tell you.”

Phil chuckled softly, “If that’s the truth, then I’m glad. Have you figured out how you’re going to train him?”

“He’s gotta heal first, so I have plenty of time to plan,” Wilbur said, sitting down.

“What are you going to do until then?” Techno’s question caught him a bit off guard. “I told you how I intercepted those little thugs who were pickin’ on him. If he gets hurt this soon after being healed, the wound might reopen.”

Wilbur’s eyes widened. He clearly hadn’t thought of that.

Phil sighed, “When did he say he was planning to go back to work?”

“Tomorrow, I think,” Wilbur answered after a long pause. “He said he needed to get his boss updated on the situation.”

“Great. You’ve got his number, right? Text him and tell him you’re picking him up.” Wil did exactly as Phil suggested, and Tommy responded an hour later.

Turns out his new apprentice was just as vulgar via text messaging, and a significant amount of swears roughly translated to, “I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help.”

Wilbur smiled at his phone, and set a reminder for thirty minutes before Tommy’s shift started.

~~~~

Tommy was finally allowed to go home after two days in a strange location.

To keep Boomer and Hannah’s home a secret, Tommy had to drink a drugged glass of water. He woke up in Wilbur’s car, which was fancy to an annoying extent. It wasn’t a Ferrari or a Lamborghini by any means, but it cost more than a measly bartender should be able to afford. Even the interior smelled like dirty money.

While waiting for Tommy to wake up, Wilbur had driven three complete circles around the city. The idiot hadn’t thought to ask for his new apprentice’s address before promising to take him home. Icarus’ reputation as a terrifying villain was wavering with each second they spent together.

Tommy gave him the address, as well as his phone number. They both agreed that they would need to communicate if they were going to do this apprenticeship correctly. The moral side of his brain protested the entire time.

To ease his anxiety over giving his personal details to a supervillain, he changed Wilbur’s contact name to “Nugget Man.”

It helped immensely.

They did finally get to Tommy’s apartment complex after many arguments over the fastest routes, and Tubbo was waiting for him. His roommate all-but tackled him to the ground, eliciting a verbal reaction from Wilbur.

Tubbo was too overtaken by relief at the sight of Tommy to inquire about the weirdo who had dropped him off. The moment Wilbur had driven away, though, the flood gates opened.

“What’s with that posh prick,” Tubbo grumbled. “He didn’t even get out of the car to introduce himself.”

“That’s Wilbur, the guy who saved my life,” Tommy said, probably too nonchalant about the entire situation. In his great defense, he feared that too many words would break him. “He found me on the street and used whatever rich-kid privileges he has to get me to a doctor with a healing gift.”

Tubbo digested the information for a moment, completely silent. A second later, he slapped Tommy’s good arm as hard as he could. The blonde boy cried out in dramaticized pain.

“I don’t want to hear about you getting shot ever again,” Tubbo huffed.

Tommy rolled his eyes, but a grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “Right, Big Man. I’ll tell the maniac robbing me next time that violence isn’t the answer.”

Tubbo snorted and they settled back into their apartment. Tommy was banished from making dinner until his friend could completely confirm that it was alright for him to move his arm. Tubbo was impossible to argue with once he was set on something, so he didn’t even try.

Thanks to Boomer, his arm worked fairly well, but it was nice to take it easy. With the help of the flower petals Hannah gave him and a cheap sling to keep him from making big movements, Tommy wasn’t terribly inconvenienced.

He had already told Ranboo that he’d be showing up the next day for work. His shift manager had, of course, heavily argued this. Tommy pulled a few strings - and by strings, he meant he guilt-tripped his boss with a series of childish text messages - until Ranboo had no choice but to let him come in.

Tommy was fidgeting with the grip-strength thingy Hannah had given him when he got an unexpected message.

Nugget Man: I’m picking you up and taking you to work tomorrow. From now on, I’ll drive you anywhere you need to go.

Suddenly, he wasn’t as proud to go to work. Half of him considered talking to Ranboo and canceling, despite the effort that would take. He couldn’t, so Tommy sent Wilbur an indifferent response:

Tommy: Fuck you. I hope you fucking crash your car so I don’t have to see your ugly face first thing in the morning. The bus is a thousand times better than your shitty company. Leave me alone.

He thought he was being very clear, but Wilbur showed up the next morning anyway. As Tommy climbed into the car, he made sure to flip his mentor off. Realistically, Wilbur had done nothing that deserved such intense hostility, but Tommy was finding that being off of Boomer’s healing medication for an entire night was quite jarring.

He stared at the ceiling of his room the whole time, paranoid that he’d accidentally roll onto his bad arm if he dozed off. Sleep did eventually come, but the headache he woke with was unbelievable. Tommy let himself wonder if this was what withdrawal felt like, and if he was experiencing withdrawal from blood, did that make him some sort of twisted vampire?

“Why do you have to drive me everywhere,” Tommy muttered once the car had begun its commute. “Are you some kind of possessive psychopath?”

Wilbur laughed a little, “I need to take care to make sure you heal properly. Boomer doesn’t work for free, you know. I can’t have you fucking up your arm again.”

“That wasn’t your idea, was it?”

“Absolutely not. This is all Midnight.”

Tommy nodded, content with the honesty of Wilbur’s answer. They were silent for a while, only the rumble of the engine to fill the gaps. The wound on his arm went numb finally, after hours of throbbing that was just constant enough to be annoying. The flower petal bandaged against it was likely to blame, and he reminded himself to thank Hannah later.

Cars passed them on the road, all oblivious to the passengers inside. Tommy knew any other kid his age would freak out if they were seated next to the infamous Icarus, and for the nth time, he wished he could react like that.

He never thought he would crave the times where he’d been scared to death of supervillains; when Icarus didn’t know him by name, Fortress didn’t stop his bullies, and Midnight didn’t expose secrets to him. That time was lost to him now.

The longer Tommy was left alone with his thoughts, the more he regretted it all. He regretted making Wilbur beg for forgiveness. He regretted not emptying the cash register faster for the armed man. He regretted calling to Icarus as he was certain he would die. He regretted becoming an apprentice.

Well…

It was definitely too early to tell for the last regret, but it was heavily implied.

Tommy genuinely could not recall the last time he’d heard a villain was taking an apprentice. The media never talked about it, which left only speculators on the internet to provide him with whatever information he wanted. Even then, it was sparse.

One post said that they suspected all vigilantes were secretly villains-in-training. Tommy wasn’t dumb enough to believe that, and neither were the comments under that post. And yet, all of them were similar. There had never been a known appearance of an apprentice. Heroes had their sidekicks, sure, but those were people like Boomer who were heroes-in-training for years beforehand.

Tommy definitely wasn’t the first, since Wilbur had told him the night prior that apprentices were the ones who inherited a villain’s magic item if they died. There were some magic items, albeit minor ones, that had been around for centuries. Watching their path was how the public knew that apprentices had to exist.

Hellspawn and Diamond shared a particularly old one. It was rare that vigilantes had magic items, but they were an exception. They fell under the vigilante category because of their numerous recorded heroic deeds without a license. Hero agencies had tried to sign them, but they absolutely refused to join.

Their magic item was something known as the One Heart. It had jumped around between the hands of heroes and villains for years before finally being passed to Hellspawn and Diamond. The item’s power allowed for the holder to attach their life to another person’s. Because of this, the two made an extraordinary fighting pair.

In televised fights, they were practically immune to any hits they took. The only way to truly hurt them was to strike both of them at the same time. For petty criminals, an encounter with them always resulted in jail time.

Tommy made it to work in good time. He supposed that was one pro to hitching a ride with someone too evil to stop at stop signs on empty streets. Wilbur said he’d pick him up after work, and left. Tommy made sure to flip him off as he drove away.

Ranboo was happy to see him, but he didn’t let Tommy do anything he deemed “too difficult” for the entire shift; mopping, cleaning the machines, grabbing new toppings from the back, anything that wasn’t pressing buttons at the register. He felt guilty all the while.

True to his word, Wilbur did pick up Tommy once his shift ended. Ranboo insisted on waiting on the curb with him like a parent that had to meet all their kid’s friends. His excuse was that he wanted to thank the man who saved him, but he was almost certainly just being protective.

Tommy laughed to himself at the idea of Wilbur and Ranboo’s true first meeting. Icarus with his chocolate froyo, threatening an employee, and Ranboo running late to work and walking in on the interaction.

His manager was clearly taken aback by the fancy car that pulled up. “This is the guy who saved you,” Ranboo whispered, forcing a smile. “He looks like a character in a really bad teen romance novel.”

“Never took you as the type to read romance, Boo,” Tommy teased. Ranboo elbowed him, and Wilbur got out of the car.

Tommy expected his new mentor to have a less positive reaction at the sight of Ranboo, but he switched on a charming grin and held out a hand instead. “Hello! I’m Wilbur Soot.”

“Ranboo Ender,” his manager introduced, shaking Wil’s hand. Tommy glanced between them, fairly upset to realize the two standing together made him look short. “I’m Tommy’s shift manager. I was supposed to be there when this whole incident occurred but I wasn’t, so I wanted to thank you.”

“No need,” Wilbur said. He set a hand on Tommy’s shoulder in a way that felt too friendly for how little they knew each other. “He’s been a joy.”

Ranboo stifled a laugh, “Right. That sounds like him.”

Tommy reminded himself to steal Ranboo’s wallet once he was a supervillain.

“Well, now that we’re all buddies,” he jumped in. “Wilbur needs to drive me home.”

Ranboo and Wilbur said their goodbyes, and they drove off. Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, slightly wincing when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to tense like that.

“That’s the guy who came in when I was getting yogurt last time,” Wilbur said, breaking the silence. Tommy nodded. “I thought he was a customer. I didn’t realize he was your boss. He’s young, isn’t he?”

“He’s older than I am by a bit.” Tommy shrugged, staring out the window. It was obvious how little he knew about the man driving during moments like these. “I’m seventeen, before you ask.”

Wilbur sucked in a breath. “Jesus, man. I knew you were childish, but I thought you were at least eighteen. I might have to reconsider you as an apprentice.”

Tommy’s head swiveled around to look at the brunette. “What? No!”

“Midnight will be on my ass if he realizes my apprentice is a literal kid,” Wilbur rambled, ignoring the other. “Don’t get me started on the fact that you’d be immediately on the Dream Team’s radar. That’s not the place for a kid. They do not hold back.”

“I can handle myself,” Tommy grumbled. “Glitch looks like a little bitch anyway. I can take him.”

Wilbur cackled, “Assuming you can even get close enough to throw a punch at Glitch, he’s professionally trained.”

“From all the fights I’ve seen, he just sits there like a coward. If he’s trained at all, he doesn’t show it.” His time as a Dream Team fan left him with that much knowledge.

“You forget that Speedrunner is almost always protecting him,” Wilbur added. “He’s fast enough to fight Techno and keep his little boyfriend from having to lift a finger.”

He kept forgetting that Wilbur wasn’t just another civilian. Icarus had a perspective that couldn’t be recorded and posted on social media. He was right about this at the very least; Speedrunner took a defensive role for their healer. It was a reasonable strategy, since they couldn’t operate if they were dying.

On the rare occasion that the full Dream Team fought the Corporation - Icarus, Fortress, and Midnight’s trio of villains - Midnight typically took care of Glitch. Their fights never lasted long, especially once Speedrunner had to back away from Fortress to fully protect the healer.

The media avoided broadcasting those battles if they could.

“What’s it like,” Tommy blurted before he could stop himself. It was too late to take it back, and the little smile on Wilbur’s face told him that. “What’s it like to fight heroes?”

“Aw, the little apprentice is interested in my job,” Wilbur gushed.

Tommy’s mouth turned downward in disgust. “Don’t fucking talk to me, bitch. Forget I asked.”

Silence fell over them again as Tommy went over every curse word he could remember. He had the few he preferred, but he had trouble picking an exact favorite. Fuck was classic, hard to top for sure. Bitch was definitely one of the best for insulting people, but it was overused.

“If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“Bastard,” Tommy said, snapping his fingers.

Wilbur sputtered, “What?”

“That’s my favorite curse,” he replied. “But you can speak if you feel like it. You probably get off to the sound of your own voice.”

Wilbur looked like he wanted to behead Tommy on the spot.

The next bout of quiet was an unrequited kind of awkward. One of the two was trying very hard not to laugh, and the other was debating every life choice he had ever made. Slowly, and with leftover anger still simmering on his face, Wilbur cleared his throat.

“It’s fun.”

“What?”

“Fighting the heroes is fun,” Wilbur said. “But it’s very stressful. Not something I’d choose if I could do anything else.”

Tommy held his breath, waiting for more of an explanation, but none came. “I don’t like that. You’re too vague.”

“What? You expected a full novel on my life?” Wilbur snorted. “That’s Techno’s thing. It’s exactly as I’ve said; Fighting them can be fun, but they’re constantly trying to kill or seriously injure us, and that’s less fun.”

Tommy didn’t prod any more.

From that day on, Wilbur drove him wherever he needed to go. At least, the places Tommy told him he was going. Those places included physical therapy at Boomer and Hannah’s house and Ender-Ice. Perhaps the brunette truly believed that was all he did, but it obviously wasn’t.

He really did appreciate not having to pay bus fees everyday, but sometimes a man needs his space.

His space was best enjoyed by invading Puffy’s.

He volunteered to do laundry as often as possible, if only for a few clothes. Anything to be able to stretch his legs and cure the immense boredom that came from being babied. Tommy did worry that he would get caught by Fortress on patrol or something, but after a week, he didn’t care so much.

Puffy had been overly upset to hear he got injured, and that became the first day since their meeting that the woman hadn’t treated him to lunch. She had excused herself and stormed off to meet with someone. The whole experience was very jarring, but she acted as though nothing had happened during his next visit.

It was nice to have her around when the rest of his world was flipped upside-down. She never pushed to help him with menial tasks out of pity. If the pain wasn’t enough, Tommy decided that he would never get hurt again to avoid being treated like an idiot.

“So,” Puffy opened. Tommy was on his latest visit to the laundromat, and the woman had been typing on her computer for a very long time already. “I’ve noticed you’re visiting a lot. Is there something on your mind?”

Fuck.

She could always tell. He’d been spouting way too many half-truths lately. Directed at someone as inquisitive as Puffy, Tommy had a feeling he might slip and tell a full truth at some point.

“Uh, not really,” he said through a tight smile. She raised an eyebrow, and that was all it took for him to want to spill his life’s secrets. “Just the arm.”

“Right.” Puffy glanced down at her computer screen then back up at him. There was a glint of something in her eyes, but he didn’t catch it. “I stopped by the After-Hours bar recently.”

Tommy tensed, but pretended to busy himself with folding laundry. He could hear her sigh quietly.

“I saw Wilbur,” she continued. “He told me that you’ve been working with him a little bit.”

“He what?” Tommy whirled around, his brain running at a million miles per hour.

Was Icarus really that fucking stupid? Had he just admitted to being a supervillain to some random customer of his? Why were they discussing him in the first place?

Puffy’s mouth twitched and he reminded himself not to freak out yet. Wilbur was a world-class criminal. He could handle himself. Tommy cleared his throat, “What did he say, exactly?”

“That you would be apprenticing with him for the foreseeable future.”

Tommy burst into a fit of coughs.

Okay, maybe Wilbur didn’t deserve to be given that much credit.

Puffy didn’t waver, “That’s a great opportunity, you know. Phil’s company is pretty respectable.”

Tommy froze.

“Oh, did you not know? Wilbur works there as one of the heads, but Phil owns the company.” Puffy checked her nails. “His bar is a total tax write-off. I didn’t approve of it at first, but what say do I have? We’re just friends from high school, and it has good food.”

“Uh, Phil’s company,” Tommy stuttered. “Yeah. I’m doing that.”

Needless to say, when he saw Wilbur the next day to be driven to physical therapy, they had quite a topic for conversation.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you work at a company and not just some dumb bar!” Tommy fumed not-so-silently in the passenger seat. “That’s a much better cover for why you keep doing shit for me! Tubbo wasn’t going to believe that you’re driving me places out of the kindness of your heart for long.”

“I forgot.” Wilbur’s excuse was half-assed, but probably true. “We can switch to that story now if you want?”

“I don’t know anything about the company though,” Tommy grumbled. “Just that Phil owns it and the bar is a tax write-off or something.”

Wilbur barked a laugh, “A tax write-off? I mean, I guess it is, but Phil would never call it that. He spends more time in that bar than at his house.”

Tommy didn’t respond, content to listen for once.

“Phil runs a company that makes cheap but hard-to-break glass; Beer glasses, wine glasses, sometimes even face glasses. That’s what mine are made out of,” the brunette rambled. “The bar being a tax write-off is just a benefit really. All the cups are made out of his glass, so he gets to tell the bank that it’s a promotional thing. No one bats an eye.”

“Glass? Phil makes fucking glass? That’s so lame,” Tommy scoffed. Wilbur shot him a look and turned the car down a road they’d never taken before. “Hey, wait! Physical therapy is that way!”

“How would you know? We blindfold you before we get close enough for you to tell,” Wilbur chuckled. Tommy crossed his arms. “We’re taking a little detour. Hannah can wait for a bit.”

Soon, the mostly-empty side streets changed into busy main roads. The traffic wasn’t awful since Wilbur seemed to know the best routes to take. The buildings grew taller with each block they traveled. Tommy didn’t live terribly far from the city’s center, but he didn’t visit it much.

“Phil discovered how to make basically unbreakable glass in high school, so he’s had years to build his company,” Wilbur said. They were surrounded by buildings that reached towards the sky. “How many windows do you think each of these places have?”

“I don’t know. A lot,” Tommy replied.

“Every single one on this block was provided by Phil.”

Tommy’s mouth fell agape. He squished against the car’s door, eyes widening at the sight of thousands of windows covering skyscrapers; Millionaires worked in there, gazed out of those windows.

“With heroes and villains running rampant, the rich quite prefer the tougher glass. If someone slams into it mid-battle, it doesn’t shatter as quickly,” Wilbur said. He sounded like he was pitching it to a customer. “I can say with confidence that it’s nice to be able to punch Speedrunner into a window without worrying about endangering civilians.”

“That’s really cool, actually,” Tommy wondered aloud. “What does Phil’s company have to do with you, though? Why are you one of the head guys?”

They slowed with traffic, and Wilbur’s head turned to him. “Are you serious? I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Phil’s my adoptive dad.”

Tommy had been thrown a million curveballs in a very short span of time. As usual, his brain was close to shutting down. Moments like these made him regret getting out of bed in the morning.

“You didn’t know,” Wilbur gasped.

“Why would I know,” Tommy shouted.

“Why else would I talk about Phil so much?”

“I just thought you really liked your boss!”

People on the sidewalk sent glances at the car, concerned by the heated yelling. Tommy noticed and quieted.

“Well, he’s my dad,” Wilbur mumbled. They turned a corner, and the brunette lifted a hand to point at one of the skyscrapers. “The company’s office occupies the top few floors of that building. Remind me to take you there sometime.”

“It’s huge,” Tommy admired. “How am I supposed to tell Tubbo about this? I’ve never expressed an interest in glass before.”

“Just say I offered you a paid internship and you liked the idea of extra pocket cash,” Wilbur said.

“No good. He’d question that,” the boy retorted. “My uncle’s a heart surgeon, and the allowance he gives me is pretty high. As long as I have a job, I get an apartment to myself and all the spending money I need.”

Wilbur whistled, “Lucky kid.”

“Says the son of a millionaire CEO,” Tommy scoffed, but a smile rose to his face. He would never admit it, but Wilbur was starting to grow on him. “I’ll figure out my excuse for Tubbo later, I guess. I can still use the injured thing for now.”

“Oh shit,” Wilbur cursed, and he swerved the car onto a side road. “I forgot about physical therapy. Hannah’s gonna kill me.”

Tommy snorted, reaching for a piece of cloth sitting on the back seat. He tied it around his eyes without a word. At first, he’d complained about needing to be blindfolded, but Boomer’s one condition for allowing him to come back was that the location had to be hidden. It was either a blindfold or getting drugged every time.

He respected their privacy, so he never peeked. The drive was a relatively quick one, and pretty soon Wilbur was leading him through the doorway. While he couldn’t look at the outside, the inside of the home was something else entirely. The first time Wilbur had slipped his blindfold off, his jaw had fallen to the floor.

Tommy had a slight suspicion that the house wasn’t very hidden. The inside was huge, and even that wasn’t completely able to describe it. On his first few visits, Boomer met him at the door and guided him through the maze of hallways, but he could get there alone now. Wilbur left him, promising to come back as he always did at the end of their session.

Glancing through open doors, he saw rooms that belonged more in an expensive hospital than in someone’s home. Turning the corner, he was hit with a wave of plants; greenhouses, temperature-regulated rooms, and gardens of every kind. The house reflected its owners in the most extravagant way possible.

“Heroes get paid a lot,” was what Boomer said when he noticed the kid staring.

Tommy went down a staircase to a basement with a large studio. Hannah was waiting for him with a plethora of thingies he couldn’t name. Their sessions had gotten significantly more rigorous as he healed, and he always left sore. It was more like lethal yoga than therapy.

The first meeting was just stretching, though that alone caused Tommy’s shoulder to complain for days. Their second was focusing on grip strength. Hannah said that he was doing better than she’d expected, and he blamed that on the weird grip-strength thingy she’d given him. He found himself fidgeting with it whenever he was overwhelmed by thoughts.

“Where were you?” Hannah had her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face. Despite the flowers in her hair, she was fucking terrifying. “Our session was supposed to start thirty minutes ago!”

“Wilbur was being a prick,” was Tommy’s go-to answer. Hannah looked unimpressed. “He was showing me a window company and he lost track of time like an idiot. I swear it’s not my fault!”

The woman’s glare lessened, but she was still clearly angry. “Fine,” she sighed. “Let’s get started.”

Their appointments every three days were never very long. Hannah said it was because it was bad to strain the arm for too long. Most of the time, they went for about an hour, although last session they’d ended after half that time. Tommy had been so sore that Hannah let him nap on their couch until Wilbur arrived.

Today wasn’t as intensive, thankfully. They started with stretches and basic warm-ups, before getting into the actual therapy. Like last time, they were using weights. Tommy feared that he would be just as exhausted, but he wasn’t.

Hannah wrapped a new flower petal onto his wound, and he barely felt any pain. He seriously believed that losing her was the biggest mistake the heroes had ever made. Because of her remedies, the scarring wasn’t as hideous as Tommy was worried it would be, and the recovery process was infinitely easier.

“You’re doing much better today,” Hannah said. She was right. Tommy’s arm could move normally when not gripping anything, and that felt like a huge achievement. “I doubt you need more than two more sessions.”

Tommy paused at that, the weight in his hand dragging his arms to his side. It had only been two weeks since he had gotten shot. There was a level of relief that came with the realization that he was healed enough for Hannah to make that call, but he was saddened for some reason.

“We’ll end today’s session here, I think,” she yawned, stretching. Tommy hadn’t noticed before, but she seemed more tired than usual. She caught his stare and shrugged. “Boomer has another patient right now. We worked all night to heal her.”

He hummed a response, “Could I ask who?”

Hannah shook her head. “Patience confidentiality. We’re not bound by a contract, but secret identities are important.”

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t realize that within ten minutes, she would be standing in her living room with Tommy watching as she tried to restrain their patient. Boomer was frantically hiding several bottles.

Their patient was a really tall lady with purple hair. She had a cast over her leg and she was held up only by crutches, but she was causing quite the fuss. Tommy didn’t recognize her, but the two healers primarily helped villains, so she was probably one of those.

“Stop hiding the fuckin’ liquor,” the woman whined. “C’mon, just a little pick-me-up. I didn’t get crushed by a car just to get denied beer.”

“Please,” Hannah begged. “Stop! It’s not good for the blood! How are you supposed to heal if Boomer’s gift gets killed by alcohol every time it gets close to the injury!”

“I say we sedate her,” Boomer called from somewhere down the hall. Tommy smirked at the sight of the doctor shoving bottles into his coat closet. “If she wants to be numb so badly, let’s give it to her!”

“Boomer, no!” Hannah groaned. Tommy could understand how this situation might’ve kept them up all night. “That’ll make the therapy take even longer. Drugs do not fix this problem.”

“Who cares,” the woman said. “You get paid for every fuckin’ session anyway, dontcha? Shouldn’t you want me to be injured for longer?”

“Don’t compare us to regular hospitals,” Boomer gasped incredulously. A knock sounded at the door and Tommy bolted at the chance to escape. Wilbur was surprised to see the boy answering him, until the weird lady shouted again and his face fell flat.

He pushed past Tommy and into the living room. Hannah was gripping the patient by her waist in a futile attempt to stop her from reaching the bottle that Boomer was currently holding over his head. Everyone stopped when their eyes fell on Wilbur.

“Holy shit,” the woman breathed out. She straightened immediately and ran a hand through her hair as if to appear less of a mess. “I didn’t know Icarus was coming.”

Wilbur cracked a small, sarcastic smile and glanced down at Tommy. Boomer took the opportunity to scamper off, no doubt to hide the drink. Hannah stood up as well, but she didn’t try as hard to pretend this ordeal hadn’t happened.

“What’re you doing here,” the purple-haired woman coughed, and for the first time, her eyes landed on Tommy. “Who’s the kid?”

“This is my new apprentice,” Wilbur answered. He patted Tommy’s back and beamed. It felt too positive, too personal. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

The woman raised her eyebrows in shock, but nodded nevertheless. She extended a hand to the boy and said, “I’m Minx. How do you do?

Tommy froze.

Minx was a lower-tier supervillain, but she was still dangerous to regular civilians. In public, she wore a purple suit with a black mask and a belt to hold her infamous weapon of choice: a hammer. Her power, charmspeak, allowed her to render you completely under her control for up to thirty seconds. It didn’t seem like a lot, but in battle, it was formidable.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t put the pieces together sooner. The day before, after he finished work, he was watching the very fight where she’d broken her leg. Minx was battling a hero by the name of Aesthetic.

Aesthetic’s power was known as confusion. When using it, he could blur your perception of what was really happening, like a sort of illusion. Your brain would tell you one thing while your eyes saw another, usually resulting in a headache of a fight. On top of that, his costume was a long, blue dress and a red mask.

In interviews, he was frequently asked about his gender identity. He insisted that he identified as a man, and that crossdressing helped his power, but the internet loved to speculate.

Tommy zoned back in to see several sets of eyes on him. He realized that Minx was still waiting for his introduction. Gulping, he reached forward and shook her hand.

“I’m Tommy,” he said through clenched teeth. Minx began to grin. “Nice to meet you.”

“I don’t believe it,” she murmured, and Wilbur fastened a grip onto Tommy’s shoulder. “Your apprentice is fucking scared of me.”

Tommy huffed, “Am not!”

Minx shot a look at Wilbur, who shook his head in warning. She ignored him and suddenly the air felt static in Tommy’s lungs. Her lips changed from a natural pink to a deep black, and he knew what was coming.

“The little apprentice is terrified,” Minx whispered, but her voice met his ears in a hiss. “Why don’t you admit that to me, hm? Tell the whole room how much you fear me.”

Panic rose in the back of his throat. Wilbur’s grip on his shoulder was painfully tight, and he wanted to break down. “No,” he muttered, barely audible. His hands gripped his hair and he tugged hard. “No. I don’t want to.”

“Come on,” Minx urged, though reluctance seeped into her tone now. His legs didn’t shake quite as hard with her next words, “Don’t resist me. Admit it to the room. Quickly! Admit it!”

Tommy fell to his knees, tears slipping down his cheeks against his will. Every breath was filled with lead. Minx’s presence in front of him was as painful as the bullet that had struck him. Suddenly, someone was beside him, speaking.

He smelled flowers, and his eyes adjusted through the tears to find Hannah. She was smiling, but her brow was creased. Tommy smelled smoke as well, and Wilbur was next to him. He had a smudge on his cheek and his jacket was dusted with ash. Tommy focused on the details until nothing else mattered.

“Tommy? Tommy, can you hear us,” Hannah’s voice called out. It was soft and friendly. “He’s calming down. His pulse is slowing.”

“Oh my god,” Minx said. Her lips had changed back to normal. Tommy thought she looked pale. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. That’s never happened before.”

Wilbur shared a look with Boomer, who had entered silently.

Eventually, Tommy could stand again. Hannah told him that had likely been a panic attack, but he wasn’t sure why he had one. Anxiety was always a problem for him, but never that seriously. It was a minor one compared to the kind he’d read about in medical articles, but his heart pounded for hours afterward.

Minx returned to her room, Wilbur following close behind. Tommy heard yelling for a few minutes, but it quieted when Boomer joined them. Hannah never left his side. He was grateful for her.

The drive back was silent. Tommy wore the blindfold for the first half, as he always did, but he wasn’t relieved to get home. Tubbo would be waiting for him. He was never out this long, so he would have to explain himself. Maybe he would use the company excuse.

Wilbur gave him a sad look when they pulled up to that familiar curb. “Tell me if you need absolutely anything,” he said. “Try to rest as much as possible.”

Tommy hadn’t responded. He sulked up to the apartment, and surprisingly, he found it empty. Tubbo sent him a text explaining that work was going overtime, and to not expect him before dinner. There was some battle on the television, but he didn’t care enough to watch.

With the last of his energy, Tommy crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

Chapter Text

“Congratulations,” Hannah cheered. Boomer tossed colorful scraps of paper into the air, confetti to celebrate the occasion. They were gathered around Tommy, playing some crappy pop-song off of a phone. The physical therapy studio that they’d been using for the last three weeks had balloons and streamers everywhere.

“I’m proud of you, little buddy,” Boomer said, his voice significantly louder than the music. He slapped the back of Tommy’s head, but they both knew the boy couldn’t feel it. “Healing from a fatal bullet wound completely in three weeks! This isn’t done often.”

“It’s because of you guys,” Tommy admitted sheepishly. His smile was impossible to hide.

“I know. I’m awesome,” Boomer replied. Hannah swatted him and he winced. “We’re awesome, I mean.”

“Thank you.” Hannah grinned triumphantly.

Wilbur watched from the doorway, his chest swelling with something he could only describe as pride. Tommy healed faster than most without a doubt, but his wound hadn’t been as awful as other victims of the same injury. His resistance was commendable. Beyond that, even.

Phil had watched him from the rooftops for the last while. All the times Tommy cheekily thought that he would leave his house without letting Wilbur know, Phil was present. He only ever went to the laundromat anyway. Boring child.

On the plus side, they learned that he could operate like normal in public. Tommy’s arm seemed fine and he never ran into any thugs. Phil was pleased to report that the kid was doing well.

If Tommy had seen the bill that Boomer had given Wilbur before their little celebration, he would understand why Wilbur fretted over his health. As soon as Tommy could defend himself, there wouldn’t be a reason for them to watch over him.

Their trio of villains kept quiet for now, but they gave the heroes some other targets to focus on in their absence. During the time they were letting Tommy think about becoming an apprentice, they’d used their influence to calm the minor villains that typically ran wild across the city.

Wilbur didn’t want a repeat of the Bubblegum and Hothead incident so long as they could help it. The heroes had been reasonably confused, but the trio didn’t care about how they felt. Tommy needed to be safe if he was going to be an apprentice. Wilbur didn’t want another near-death incident to throw off his opinion of them.

But they’d failed. Petty criminals didn’t fall under their range of influence, and Tommy was shot. Wilbur wasn’t even supposed to be in the area at the time. Phil wanted him to patrol, but he figured he’d stop for froyo first. He thanked every god he could remember afterwards.

Wilbur didn’t know Tommy well, at least not back then, but he still didn’t want the kid to get hurt. The very idea caused him to bristle. Coming across him outside Ender-Ice, bleeding more than any kid his age should, was like Wil himself had gotten hurt.

He had never rushed as quickly across the city. Tommy was deathly pale, and Wilbur was only able to briefly stop the bleeding by tearing one of his favorite shirt’s sleeves. The backseat of his car would remain stained, but he didn’t care.

They were strangers at that point. No part of him should’ve been willing to take him to such an expensive doctor. A normal hospital would have sufficed, especially since the damage was lightened by the boy’s gift.

But Boomer was the best.

Their celebration three weeks after the initial incident was proof. Wilbur sighed, and excused himself. Upstairs, a familiar villain waited for him.

“Your new sidekick is impressive,” Minx said. She’d done nothing but praise Tommy since their mishap the previous week. Wilbur figured she was going soft. He wasn’t complaining.

“He will be,” he responded nonchalantly. “Once he can go up against the Dream Team, I’ll stop worrying.”

After Minx induced a panic attack by using her powers, Wilbur had dragged her off and scolded her. It was only natural he worried for Tommy, given the kid was his apprentice and all. It was a one-sided argument. Minx was too shocked to yell back, something extremely out-of-character for her.

Boomer calmed Wilbur down by telling him that Tommy could hear his yelling from the living room. The last thing Wil wanted to do was make the panic attack worse, so he quieted. Minx swore she’d never seen someone react that way to her charmspeak.

Unfortunately, Wilbur had seen Tommy do that before.

It wasn’t half as bad, but the kid had freaked out when Icarus attempted to use his power during their second-ever meeting. Wil had lightened up his effect when he noticed it wasn’t working, but Minx had pushed harder. It made him worry what would’ve happened if he had continued as well.

Minx and Wilbur often had their gifts compared by the public. Though they weren’t terribly similar, both held weight over the mind. They hadn’t exactly tested it, but Boomer had a theory already.

“His gift is really developed for a teenager,” Boomer started, checking over past scans they had from Tommy’s stay. “The resistance was able to completely stop a bullet. I wouldn’t be surprised if it forcibly blocked your gifts from reaching his brain. I don’t understand it, but it’s all that makes sense.”

“Are you sure the guy doesn’t just have a hidden third gift that stops people from using their powers on him,” Minx jumped in. Clearly Boomer had explained his multiple-power theory to her. “That sounds much more fuckin’ likely.”

“Well, even if that had managed to escape my scans,” Boomer muttered. “My healing wouldn’t have worked on him if that were the case. Little dude’s just really cool.”

“Don’t tell him you think that,” Wilbur warned. “His ego will be huge.”

That was the only conclusion they could reach before the two left, and a week later, they still hadn’t come up with anything new.

“Tommy’s not going to be back here for a while,” Wilbur informed Minx. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Bring him up here before you fuck off,” Minx replied, as vulgar as ever. “I wanna wish him luck.”

“If he wants to see you, sure.” He settled on a chair. Tommy didn’t hold anything over Minx, which made no sense to his mentor. If someone had forced panic onto him, he would’ve hunted them to their graves. Wilbur guessed that was the difference between a supervillain and an untrained civilian.

It wasn’t surprising to hear Tommy knock on the door a few minutes later. There were specks of glitter in his hair, and his cheeks were red from smiling. He paused at the sight of Wil in the room, but he wasn’t at all uncomfortable with Minx.

“Hey, buddy!” The purple-haired villain grinned from ear-to-ear. “Thank God you’re here! Your teacher was getting really fucking annoying.”

Wilbur scoffed, though he knew she was teasing. They were good friends when there weren’t any outside eyes to bother them.

Tommy snickered, “I agree. He’s an asshole.”

“I reckon you’d be happier as my apprentice,” Minx mused. “You belong on the streets with me. The Corporation has too many sticks up their ass to have some real fun.”

“I reckon you’re right,” the boy said. “Unfortunately, Wil would sulk for weeks if he lost me, so I can’t.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, hiding a smile behind his hand. Eventually, they had to go, but Tommy and Minx had enough time to throw plenty of insults at him. Their combined efforts were twice as irritating as they were separated.

Boomer and Hannah said their goodbyes to Tommy by the front door. Wilbur’s wallet was beyond glad that they would finally be free. The others were emotional, like they’d never see each other again. Wilbur quietly hoped that was true. Seeing the doctors was never good.

“Alright,” Tommy said with finality. “Where’s my blindfold? I’m ready to go.”

Boomer grinned. “Now that you’re done healing and can officially become a villain, you won’t need the blindfold anymore.”

Tommy gasped, perking up too much for something that seemed so insignificant. Wilbur found that Boomer’s smile was contagious. Maybe he was the one growing soft. He chuckled out, “You’ll need to know the way here when you’re fighting heroes left and right.”

Tommy’s wide eyes were on him now. “You’re gonna let me beat up Glitch? Oh, that bitch doesn’t know what’s coming!”

“Holy shit, no,” Hannah interjected. “You are not fighting the fucking Dream Team. Wilbur.”

“I never confirmed anything. Don’t blame me when nothing’s even happened,” Wilbur scoffed. They were ushered from the house quickly, with Tommy too busy laughing to realize he was finally outside.

He paused before they reached the car, and that’s when Wilbur saw his jaw drop. Boomer and Hannah’s home was quite the sight to someone who had never seen it before. It was located on the outskirts of Pogtopia, where a lot of millionaires built their bigger estates, and it fit in very well.

The building itself, because it could hardly count as a house, spanned what felt like an entire city block and had three clear stories. Around the back, Wilbur knew there were fields of gardens full of Hannah’s flowers, but they weren’t visible from the road.

Most of the money was initially from being heroes-in-training. Heroes in general were shockingly overpaid, and putting two ex-heroes together could buy quite a bit. Including the steady flow of cash they got from their patients, it wasn’t hard to believe they lived there.

The majority of the rooms were unused, or acted as places for their recovering patients to stay. Boomer had stolen plenty of equipment that also occupied the empty spaces. He was a one-man hospital rather than just an absurdly good healer.

Hannah took the sunnier areas, growing anything from carnivorous monsters to tiny weeds. Wilbur knew for a fact that the hero organizations hadn’t given her enough room to truly let her gift flourish, and that was why they classified her as a less important hero. Their mistake, really.

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathed out. The childlike wonder covering his face reminded Wilbur that he really was only a teenager. “They’re fucking loaded.”

“Yeah,” was all the brunette could say. After a few minutes of gaping, Wil finally dragged him into the car. Tommy was glued to the window as they drove down the street. Compared to other mansions on that block, the doctors’ home was understated. Although, other gardens weren’t half as beautiful with their plain flowers.

The entire way back home, Tommy was silent and shocked. Wilbur wasn’t sure if he was zoned out at this point or if he was memorizing the route. Either way, it was entertaining. An idea came to mind, and at the last minute, he took a new turn. That’s when his companion appeared to wake up.

“Hey, wait,” he grumbled. “This isn’t the way home.”

“Well, we have a little time before your roommate starts frantically calling you,” Wilbur pointed out. “I was thinking that you might want to go see Phil with me.”

Tommy’s face gave away his excitement, but it dropped when he glanced down at himself. Wilbur knew how he looked as well. He had no doubt the kid was comparing their outfits. Wil wasn’t dressed down, for lack of a better word, and Tommy wasn’t exactly wearing work-appropriate clothes.

Jeans and a brightly colored red hoodie. Phil wouldn’t care, but Wil knew quite a few old, stuck-up people who would. Somehow, that only encouraged him. “Don’t worry. We’re going to fuck with people. Your outfit will only help.”

Tommy puzzled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wilbur didn’t answer, but he also didn’t miss the way his apprentice sat a bit straighter. He did seem like the type of person who would enjoy bothering folks. If their constant banter was any proof, he was good at it too.

They pulled up outside of the company building and Wil climbed wordlessly from the car. The bustling sidewalk and crammed streets made him want to crinkle his nose in disgust. He hated the bigger half of the city. It made battles more difficult, and if Icarus’ stellar reputation couldn’t clear a street, he wasn’t sure what could.

“Uh, what about the car?” Tommy rushed to join him. Wilbur answered by handing his keys over to a man in a black dress shirt. The guy nodded and quickly took the car to the nearest parking building. “Oh. Alright then.”

Wilbur straightened his shirt before he stepped into the lobby. Instantly, the pair looked underdressed. Businessmen and women darted around in suits, dresses, and heels. A few spared them accusatory looks, but Wil was used to them. The difference this time was the kid he had in tow.

“I really don’t think I should be here,” Tommy whispered, his eyes flitting around to everyone else. “We should go.”

“Nonsense,” Wil said. “You’re with me. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“I don’t think that’s how this works,” the blonde said. “I think I look like a fucking asshole.”

They made it to the elevator, which was uncharacteristically empty for a stuffy corporate building. Wilbur knew why, of course. He could tell by the way the other people walking for the elevators slowed their pace as their stony gazes took in the two. He wanted to grin.

As soon as the doors clicked shut, Wil pressed the button for Floor 50. Tommy heaved out a heavy breath and leaned against the wall. “This is fucking stressful,” he groaned. “I don’t think I can ever come back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wilbur laughed. “Those people down there don’t matter. They live this perfect black-and-white life, but in the end, they’ll get nowhere. They aren’t the folks who invent life-changing products or who ascend the ranks because of their stellar personalities. That’s what we do. They’re jealous.”

Tommy didn’t meet his eyes, but he knew the kid was listening. The red on his ears betrayed him. The doors dinged as they opened and the two stepped out, one following the other. This floor was familiar to Wil, but he knew Tommy would be gaping at everything.

There were large meeting rooms lining the hall, which slowly shifted into offices for people Wil couldn’t remember. There was one last set of double doors at the very end of the hallway, large and wooden.

Wilbur checked that Tommy was watching, and pushed them open. The room was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Potted plants surrounded a tiny fountain in the corner, and plush couches settled next to coffee tables for comfort. Bookshelves covered the empty walls. A desk was located more towards the back of the room, with a man typing on a computer behind it.

“Phil!” Wilbur strolled in, the doors shutting automatically behind him. Tommy was cautiously following. “How’s my favorite old man doing?”

The man behind the desk glanced up with a raised eyebrow. His shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he was dressed in a white button-up. The last time Tommy had seen Phil, he was in his bartender uniform. Seeing Phil at his separate jobs was quite the sight.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me old, Wil,” Phil chuckled. Tommy peeked from behind his mentor. “Ah, and you’ve brought the apprentice!”

Phil stood, opening his arms in a friendly welcome. Tommy gulped visibly, and Wilbur bit his lip to keep from teasing him. He didn’t know that Phil had been following him as Midnight for a while, so he’d seen all his tiny embarrassing moments.

“Hello, sir,” Tommy squeaked, and Wilbur couldn’t hold it in anymore. He doubled over, wheezing his lungs out. Phil snorted a bit, but hid it with a cough. When Wil pulled himself together, Tommy was staring at him like he’d just killed his grandma. “What the fuck, man?”

“You can just call me Phil, kid,” the older of the three said. Tommy flinched as Phil patted him on the shoulder, even though his power prevented him from feeling any pain. “Wilbur’s told me quite a bit about you. What brings you here today?”

“We were thinking we’d use the company as an excuse for why he’s apprenticing with me,” Wil explained, though he’d talked to Phil about this already. “He’s going to be my little assistant.”

Tommy shifted at the use of little, but held back whereas he would usually jump to correct Wilbur. He tugged on Wilbur’s sleeve and whispered, “Wil, are you sure it’s a good idea for your dad to know that I’m apprenticing with you? He might find out you’re Icarus.”

Wilbur deadpanned, and Phil glanced between them confusedly.

“Tommy,” the brunette started slowly. “He knows I’m Icarus. Phil is Midnight.”

He didn’t think he had to spell that one out.

Tommy blanked, paling considerably.

“Mate,” Phil sighed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“How do you continue to be the dumbest person I’ve ever met,” Wilbur asked, though it wasn’t really a question. Tommy’s face heated up, whether from rage or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell.

“How was I supposed to know,” the kid screeched defensively. He’d given up on looking professional in front of Phil.

“You know that Techno is my brother,” Wil said in response, raising his voice to the same pitch. “He’s Fortress!”

“But what does that have to do with Phil,” Tommy cried.

“Phil’s my dad! Techno’s my brother!” Wilbur slows his speech, as if that’ll help him, “I’m Icarus. Techno’s Fortress. We have a third member of our family, and there’s a third member of the Corporation. Who else would that be?”

“So you supervillains run a fucking family business.” Tommy threw his hands into the air in defeat. “My bad that I couldn’t crack the code!”

“I picked the stupidest motherfucker on the face of the planet to be my apprentice,” Wilbur declared. “And now I’ve gotta pretend like I willingly hired this bitch to work in my company too!”

A glint passed through Phil’s eyes, and suddenly the room felt colder.

“Right. He’s your assistant, isn’t he?”

Why was he smiling?

“Well, since you’re both here,” Phil trailed off. Wilbur grimaced. “Tommy can help you with the paperwork you’ve been putting off.”

Tommy tensed, and Wil groaned, “No! Please! It’s so boring.”

“You wanted to help with the business, mate,” his dad cackled. “Now, you have to put in the effort. I have to get back to work, but I’m sure Tommy would love to see your office.”

Wil caught Tommy staring at him, and he wanted to sigh. Phil was right, as usual. Begrudgingly, he dragged his feet out of the fancy office and down the hall to his smaller, but still classy, office. Wilbur hated it.

Tommy was almost instantly collapsing upon his leather coach. Like Phil’s office, there were floor-to-ceiling windows and potted plants. It was a quarter of the size and directly across the hall from Techno’s office. The pink-haired man was probably in there at the moment, but he always had the blinds down and his door locked.

“What am I supposed to do exactly,” Tommy asked, picking at something on his jeans.

“For now, we’ll start easily.” Wilbur inwardly cringed at the large mess of envelopes and paperwork that needed to be done. “Eventually, I’ll have you doing actual assistant work, but that’s not for a while. Since you don’t have experience, we’ll start slow.”

Tommy perked up as Wil handed him a sheet.

“How good are you at forging signatures?”

~~~~

Tommy was very good at forging signatures. It only took him sixteen tries on a scrap sheet of paper to perfect Wilbur’s.

After that, he was let loose on a bunch of shit that was definitely too important for a seventeen-year-old to be managing. Wilbur would fill out the information that Tommy didn’t know, or that was confidential, and the big man himself would do the rest. They were a pretty impressive team.

Wilbur had been casting him amused glances since they started, but Tommy wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he was putting so much effort into something the man found tedious. In his defense, this was the most professional thing he’d ever done. Ender-Ice wasn’t an exceedingly complex establishment.

Not to mention the work gave him a distraction from the secrets he kept discovering. Honestly, Wil was right that he should’ve stopped for a second to figure out Midnight’s identity, but he would argue that he was a little busy being shot when that topic was fresh on his mind.

Eventually, a door down the hall creaked open and Tommy heard footsteps coming near them. He was too consumed getting the loopy ‘W’ in Wilbur’s name correct to look up, but the brunette across from him certainly did.

“Why is there a baby in your office,” a familiar voice grumbled from the doorway, brimming with an edge of humor. Suddenly, the ‘W’ was far less important. Techno had been dressed formally on the two casual occasions they’d met, but today took the cake.

“I’m not a fuckin’ baby,” Tommy bit back. Techno’s pink hair was braided and a pair of glasses - not quite as nerdy as Wilbur’s hipster glasses - sat on his nose. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but somehow looked more posh than any of the fuckers they’d past in the lobby. “You look like you’re going to a funeral.”

Techno raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I’m not in black though. Have you ever been to a funeral?”

“No, you’re not attending as a mourner. I thought that was obvious,” Tommy said, his mouth turning down in feigned disgust. “You look like the corpse.”

Wilbur threw back his head in manic laughter, nearly tipping over his chair. Techno continued to catch him off guard by letting out a few chuckles of his own. Tommy had always imagined that Fortress would be stoic. That’s how the media portrayed him, at the very least.

Shooting a look at the other supervillain in the room, Icarus, he concluded that the media was stupid. Icarus was said to be snarky and dangerous, someone who could make you tremble with a single look. Tommy supposed it was true if you’d never had a conversation with the guy, but it was hard for him to return to that mindset.

“You’re free to critique my outfit as soon as you don’t look like you just had a shopping spree in the clearance section of Goodwill,” Techno responded once everyone had calmed. Tommy jumped to his feet, as if this was a fight he could win. Even relaxed, Techno was intimidating. “Look out Wil! I think your chihuahua has fangs.”

“Did you come in here just to provoke us,” Tommy asked. He crossed his arms and sat gingerly back in his chair. Techno shook his head and placed a file on Wil’s desk. The brunette in question visibly deflated at the idea of more work.

“Before you get all emo and depressed on me,” Techno started, earning a glare. “Those are the police reports you wanted. Not company work, promise. Just don’t tell Phil I got them.”

Tommy straightened in his chair and Techno retreated back to his office. Wilbur jumped for the file, filled with a burst of energy. His eyes scanned it like it was the finest piece of literature on the planet.

“What’s that?” Tommy wasn’t sure if he was allowed to join them on their criminal escapades yet, or if this even fell in the same category, but asking couldn’t hurt.

“It’s a detailed report on a recent jailbreak,” Wil said, barely tearing his eyes from the page. He chuckled to himself, “They always do have perfect timing.”

Finally, the file was turned to him, and he was able to see what the big deal was. A minor villain called Firefly had escaped prison this past weekend, as Wilbur had said. The report stated that all the cameras and security systems had mysteriously gone out at once, allowing the criminal to get away.

Tommy didn’t know much about Firefly, but neither did the internet. Witnesses usually ended up with temporary blindness, so they didn’t tend to actually witness much. She was infamous for her red jumper and lack of a mask. Instead, he favored a pair of expensive shades.

“Why’d you want to see this report,” Tommy pondered, handing it back to Wilbur.

“It’s not been released to the public yet, which means the cops think they might still be able to catch him,” Wil said. “It’s a thing they do a lot when minor villains escape. The authorities get really embarrassed every time they actually do have to publicize the information.”

Tommy adjusted in his seat. “But why do you want it? Just because it’s not public yet?”

Wilbur ignored him and started typing something on his phone. A moment later, the phone was ringing, and it was put on speaker. Someone answered, and police sirens sounded from their end.

“Hello?” Tommy didn’t recognize the voice that came through, but Wil’s grin widened. “Who is this? I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“Hello, old friend,” the brunette hummed. A gasp came from the unknown person. “I heard you need a little assistance.”

“Icarus,” Wilbur’s old friend cheered. A loud bang echoed out. “That would be wonderful! Could you get to that one pizza place we like on the west side?”

“Absolutely,” Wil said. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

The phone fell silent and the call ended. Tommy frowned, but the brunette was halfway out the door before he could inquire anything. Techno peeked his head out as they passed and sent a reassuring thumbs up.

Tommy followed all the way to the street, where the car was already waiting for them. The second they were both inside, Wilbur sped off. There was a smile plastered on his face.

The west side wasn’t terribly far from downtown, where the office was, but it was definitely more than fifteen minutes. Even with Wil’s speeding and blatant disregard for basic rules of the road, they wouldn’t make it.

Except, the second they were on a less-crowded street, Wil pulled into a parking building. Tommy hopped out of the car and watched as the older of the two pulled a disguise out of his trunk. Icarus’ typical look was the black cloak and silver mask, but he took the time to change into a white dress shirt anyway.

Tommy caught a glimpse of his magic item as he fidgeted with the buttons. The silver key glimmered in the faint midday light that filtered into the building. Soon enough, it was out of view, and he moved to look Wilbur in the eyes again.

He jumped, a subconscious instinct, at the sight of Icarus. Though he was the same person, the two felt starkly different. Tommy didn’t know when Wilbur had slipped the black contacts into his eyes, but it brought him back to their meeting in Ender-Ice.

“Ready to go?” Icarus stared at him expectantly, and he blanked.

“I’m coming with you?” He nearly choked at the thought. The villain sighed and swiveled on his heel. They were walking again, but at a faster pace. Tommy didn’t quite understand how he could move so quickly. “Wait! I’m not trained at all. I don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“That’s fine,” Icarus said once they’d reached the roof of the parking building. The wind teased their hair. “Pull the hood up on your hoodie please.”

Tommy did as he was told, and then he was lifted off the ground. Icarus threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, and the boy had to stop from expressing his wonder. Wilbur didn’t seem like a very strong guy with his baggy clothes and suffocating personality, but it was impossible to pretend like he wasn’t now.

“Whatever you do, don’t scream or squirm,” Icarus warned. His voice changer had switched on, and Tommy had a hard time not yelping in fear. “I’ll drop you.”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but they were in the air. He slapped a hand over his face. They were free-falling from the top of a parking building. Everything about this was insane.

They hit the roof of another building, but the shock of the landing didn’t slow Icarus in the slightest. They were moving. Fast.

Tommy was so glad he didn’t have a weak stomach, because their journey felt like the worst rollercoaster ever. Icarus sprang from roof to roof with no sign of stopping, and they were making incredible time. He could tell they were getting close when police sirens could be heard.

Icarus jumped a few more times, until they were on a roof directly across from some random pizzeria. They crouched down so as not to be spotted by the dozens of cop cars that surrounded the building.

“Alright,” Icarus cleared his throat, as if preparing himself. “You’re going to stay here and wait for me. Consider this your first experience as an apprentice with an active fight. When you see me walk out of that building with someone, look away as fast as you can.”

Tommy bit back a comment in favor of nodding. Icarus took one deep breath and leapt over the side of the building. He hit the ground without so much as a flinch. Tommy noted briefly how his boots released a small puff of steam on impact.

“Officers,” Icarus announced. Several guns turned on him in an instant, but he continued walking as if they were nothing. Tommy’s arm ached at the thought of getting shot.

“Stop right there!” A single man’s shaking voice rang out, but his command was weak. “We’re warning you, Icarus.”

“You’re warning me?” The villain laughed, “You’re the fools who need to be warned. Clear the vicinity or I’ll have to make you.”

The police hesitated, but none of them moved. Expected.

Icarus shrugged, and opened his arms. A small burst of wind struck Tommy and the cops, and Icarus slowly closed his fists.

Tommy felt something rising in the back of his throat, and he sneezed. It wasn’t loud, and no one heard, but it confused him either way. He didn’t sneeze often, and never without reason. He figured there was a first for everything and returned to watching the fight.

His eyes widened.

Every cop was on the ground, sobbing or crying out. From his place on the roof, Tommy could see Icarus shoot a glance at him. He was smiling. A chill ran up the boy’s back, and then his mentor was walking into the pizzeria.

Icarus was in there for one minute, then two. Gradually, the police started to recover. Tommy could only watch with bated breath as they stood again. They murmured amongst each other, no doubt questioning whether this was worth it.

They didn’t have time to retreat, even if they wanted to, because Icarus emerged from the building with a second person next to him. Tommy remembered what he was told and covered his eyes. From behind his hands, a brilliant flash hit his eyelids.

A moment later, Icarus was next to him, hoisting him onto his shoulder. Tommy figured that counted as a signal to open his eyes. Little black dots sprinkled his vision briefly, but they were gone soon enough.

He realized that they were currently climbing down a fire escape rather than jumping around. Tommy thought it was fairly unglamorous, but now they had a third person with them. They were smiling at the boy, and his face heated up. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see him slung across Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Tommy,” Icarus spoke up as they wove through the back alleys at an accelerated pace. He still wasn’t sure how his mentor could go so quickly, nor how their new companion could keep up. “There’s someone I’d like for you to meet.”

“Can this wait until I’m standing on the ground,” Tommy grunted. He could practically feel Icarus roll his eyes.

“Fine.”

They were back at the car fairly quickly. Tommy stood with unsteady legs as he could finally take in the person they’d brought along with them. Her outfit was different from her villain uniform, but his classic shades and outrageous height betrayed his identity.

“You did not tell me we were picking up a fucking criminal,” Tommy said. Firefly laughed, and it sounded odd without the voice changer that most villains had.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tommy,” he said, holding out a hand that the boy gingerly shook. Wilbur had just finished changing out of his villain outfit, and now they were all gathered around the trunk of the car.

“How do you do,” Tommy grumbled.

“You can call me Eret.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed.

Pardon?

Wilbur smacked him over the head and Tommy whined.

“That’s Firefly’s real name,” Wil explained. “In case you can’t put that together either.”

Tommy glared at him, but he wasn’t as mad as he could’ve been. Mostly, he was surprised that a villain had trusted him with their name. Specifically Firefly, who was so elusive that the idea of her getting arrested was laughable. Anyone who wasn’t a member of the Corporation was a mystery to him.

“So Eret,” Wilbur said, changing the subject. “How was prison?”

Firefly - no, Eret - snorted, “Hell if I know. I was barely in there.”

“What do you mean? I thought you only just escaped,” Tommy inquired. Eret shrugged.

“Hellspawn technically arrested me on Friday night,” they said. “But I was out by one in the morning on Saturday. They had me for five hours, give or take, and I didn’t let them get anywhere near my magic item.”

That got Tommy’s attention, and Wilbur could clearly tell.

“Eret, if you wouldn’t mind,” Wil interjected. “Could you show Tommy your item?”

Whereas he supposedly hadn’t let the police near his item, he had no problem pulling it from the inside of his heeled-boot to show them. Tommy’s jaw dropped immediately.

In Eret’s hands, a small white key glowed.

“No way,” Tommy whispered. “You have a key? Wil, didn’t you say these are some of the most powerful thingies?”

“Yes, I suppose it is a powerful thingy,” Eret chuckled. “Mine is called the Blinding Key. It allows me to emit large flashes of light to blind my enemies, as the name suggests.”

Tommy gasped in awe. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find all this shit cool. Like he had with Midnight, Tommy found his hands moving without thinking about it. Before he could touch it, Eret yanked it back.

“Holy shit, little buddy,” she exhaled. “Don’t do that. It’s dangerous. You could’ve died.”

Wilbur smirked.

“I’m pretty sure I woulda been fine,” Tommy said. Secretly, he was touched that she didn’t intend on letting him kill himself. “That’s why I’m Icarus’ apprentice now.”

Eret stiffened, slowly turning to face the older brunette. “You trained a child this young to be able to hold a key?”

“What? No,” Wilbur scoffed. “Why does everyone always assume the worst in me?”

Eret didn’t calm, and it was obvious he didn’t believe Wil. The brunette rolled his eyes and started to undo his necklace. Tommy’s eyes widened when Wilbur held his key out to him. It’s little frowny face engraving seemed to mock him.

Wilbur was clearly trying to prove a point, so Tommy gently took it. He felt a slight buzz under his skin, and a small burst of wind blew his hair to the side. Eret sucked in a breath.

“If you didn’t train him,” she whispered. “How the fuck is he doing that?”

“As you can see,” Wilbur snarked. “My apprentice has an extra special gift that allows him to hold more than one magic item without feeling a thing.”

Eret raised a skeptical eyebrow, and then Tommy was holding their key too. He couldn’t tell if he was flattered or about to burst from the pressure of their stares. It was true that he felt no pain, but his skin still tingled and with the new addition, he felt a warm thrum in his chest. Like heartburn but friendly.

“Holy shit,” Firefly whistled.

“I know right,” Wilbur said.

Tommy wanted to go home. “Please take these back.”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” Wilbur hissed his apology as he retrieved his key, and Eret put his back in his boot. The hipster sighed, content, “Well, this has been the most fun outing of my week, but I really need to get junior here back home.”

Tommy didn’t have time to be offended before he was ushered into the car.

“Ah, but I forgot to mention,” Wil suddenly chirped. Eret crossed their arms. “Since we saved you, I have a little request.”

“I knew it. You’re never pleasant for the sake of being pleasant,” Eret irked. “What is it this time?”

“My apprentice is very new on the field, and we don’t know anyone who’s better at making villain outfits,” Wilbur trailed off. Tommy’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t happen to be available to whip one up in your spare time, would you? You know, while you’re hiding from the cops.”

Tommy could tell by his tone that it was less of a question and more of a demand. He cringed at Firefly’s unamused expression, but ultimately didn’t say anything. Eret caught his eye and softened visibly.

“Fine,” Eret agreed. They cocked a hip and pushed their glasses down a bit as they turned back to Wil. Without the shades blocking his eyes from view, Tommy could fully see the white void that crackled behind them. He’d never seen anyone like them before. “You’ll be stopping by for measurements this Sunday. No exceptions.”

Wilbur threw up his hands in a cheer, and ran to the driver’s seat of the car before Eret could argue. The minor villain waved goodbye to them as they drove off, and the second they were out of view, he sighed in relief.

“So,” Wil said. “What do you want your costume to look like?”

Tommy didn’t answer. Though he no longer held any magic items, his body trembled with the reminder. Flashes of light still burned through his eyelids, and the sight of Icarus’ smile as police officers crumpled from seemingly nothing stuck to the forefront of his head. He wasn’t sure about the job at first, but now he was certain.

This was going to be hard.

Chapter Text

“Tommy,” Tubbo called into their apartment. The blonde in question poked his head out from the kitchen. “I’m going to the garage. I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Wait, why? It’s Sunday. You’ve got the day off,” Tommy said. “I figure you would want some time away from that place if anything.”

Tubbo shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, which he adjusted to keep out of the sight of his roommate. What Tommy didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. He slipped out the door before he could get asked any more questions. 

The brunette boy weaved through a sidewalk of people. Adrenaline built, and he moved faster with every step. To say this was his favorite day of the week would be an understatement; No job to occupy his afternoons, and no limits for what he could complete. 

He swerved into an alleyway, one he was very familiar with. Tubbo ducked behind a corner, where he couldn’t be seen by any prying eyes. He was quick to unload his backpack. His heavy brown jacket welcomed him as he threw it over his shoulders. 

Tubbo couldn’t help but muse to himself. All those days he’d spent berating Tommy for wearing his hoodie during a heat wave, and he was running around in something ten times worse. His tinted goggles were thankfully more breathable than the gas mask he’d originally considered using for his costume.

He planned his debut as Mecha for weeks, building a giant, eye-catching robot, and now he was a recognized vigilante months later. Tubbo loved the lifestyle. Patrolling made him feel free, and it gave him an excuse to use his inventions. He even found an abandoned warehouse on the east side to house his things.

His boss at the garage was supportive, but there were limits. Tubbo couldn’t explode shit, or make anything bigger than the cars they worked on during their shifts. Frankly, he thought that was lame, but didn’t waste his energy arguing.

It was almost painful for Tubbo to be near the vehicles all day. His gift, aptly named mechanical eyes, allowed him to map out complex designs for inventions. Tubbo could build just about anything. His motivation was the only thing that could get in his way.

Working with cars made his gift freak out. He could see engines, exhaust pipes, wires, gas tanks, everything that could be turned into one of his new projects. An itch he couldn’t scratch would start in the back of his brain. He didn’t talk about this itch to Tommy, but it was something he had constantly around machinery.

Hell, it was half the reason he had to store his finished products in their cabinets. If he could see it, he could improve it. Tubbo was fairly sure he’d invented the next twenty years worth of humanity’s biggest developments with the blueprints in his mind. 

Perhaps the only time Tubbo could put his power behind him was, ironically, on patrols. 

Mecha was the best version of him. He had a true chance to show what he could do without being called psychopathic or losing friends. The media would slander him as they pleased, but it wasn’t the same. He chose what they saw. He chose how his machines would work. 

He’d actually gained a friend in the process. 

Nearly four months ago, he found a new vigilante silently creeping around the east side after dark. It was clear he was trying not to be seen, but Tubbo had recently added a night vision upgrade to his goggles. Their initial interaction wasn’t great. The other guy had run away, and they didn’t bump into each other for 2 more weeks.

The next time though, Tubbo was determined to talk to him. He almost had the guy cornered when poof! He was gone! 

Luckily, Tubbo wasn’t one to give up, and he found the vigilante crouched behind a building a few paces away. That was how Mecha met Blink. 

Blink was shy, so he stuck to the less-populated areas for his patrol. It had less of a chance of the media catching him, but also less of a crime rate as he adjusted to vigilante life. East side was the industrial wing of the giant body that made up Pogtopia. 

Parts of it were just warehouses, like where Tubbo kept his larger inventions, but the east also bordered the sea. There were loading docks and large container ships, to name a few more aspects of the area. On patrol, though, Tubbo kept to the residential area.

The east side was known for its poorer occupants and shitty living conditions. It was an overlooked part of the city. If the east was mentioned at all, it was for the ships and warehouses. Most vigilantes stayed away in favor of patrolling the west side. 

Tubbo could understand the appeal of patrolling the west, since that quarter had most of the city’s small businesses. People figured it was worth more to watch over that sector so that they could prevent robberies. 

He’d tried at first to do the same, but with every vigilante in the city hopping around the rooftops, it was a lost cause. The east was absolutely the opposite; muggings, break-ins, even murders occured in this poor district. Tubbo was the only person he knew who regularly patrolled there.

Blink was a breath of fresh air.

Once they got over the awkward stages that came from the beginning of any friendship, they started to work together. Mecha showed him some of his simpler robots, and how to patrol through the east without being seen by cameras, and Blink saved him from a few close situations.

The first time Blink had teleported him, he had a gun held to his head and his mini-drone had been knocked out of order by a bat. He didn’t know he was being watched by the quiet vigilante, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. 

Teleporting felt like a continuous freefall, stuck in a limbo between real life and some fantasy land. It was an instantaneous experience and they arrived at their destination after only a brief moment between realities. Given that Blink couldn’t go terribly far, that destination had been behind a dumpster a few yards away from Mecha’s prospective murderers.

He paid back his rescuer with combat lessons. They would spar in Tubbo’s abandoned warehouse after their patrols for hours. In the little freetime they did have between rescuing civilians and sparring, Mecha would sit down at his scrap metal pile and craft little gadgets for his new friend.

He was the one who made Blink’s voice changer, which meant he was also the only one who knew what the silent vigilante’s real voice sounded like. That was, unfortunately, the best hint Tubbo had about his identity.

Both Mecha and Blink kept their private lives a secret from each other. Tubbo trusted him, sure, but they weren’t quite there yet. One day, maybe, but not yet.

That’s why, back in the present, Tubbo only went searching for his partner-in-crime when he was in full costume.

Mecha’s specially designed grappling hooks helped him move quickly through the city, but the east side was still quite a bit away from the south side. It took thirty minutes of maneuvering to get there, but he finally managed. In the distance, atop a warehouse roof, he could make out the figure of Blink waiting for him.

His friend smiled as he approached, or smiled as much as he could with a mask and sunglasses. After months, Tubbo had learned to read the little things. Blink had smile lines that crinkled into existence near his eyes every time he was smiling. That was really the most he could see.

“Hey, Mech,” Blink greeted. He hadn’t turned his voice changer on, a detail that warmed Tubbo’s heart. It was the most unspoken show of trust he could get out of his companion. “How’s your day going?”

“Oh, I’ve not been doing much,” Mecha said with a click of his tongue. “It’s my only full day off, so I’ve been lazing around until it was time for patrol.”

“I noticed you’ve been getting out more during the day,” Blink pointed out. He sat down on the roof and stretched his too-long limbs. “Has your roommate noticed?”

Mecha let out a little snort, sitting next to him, “Not a bit. He must think I work full-time or something.”

He had slipped up and mentioned the fact that he lived with a roommate around his age during one of their later nights, so Blink occasionally brought him up to be polite. Tubbo didn’t mention that Tommy had recently gotten an internship at a fairly important company, which was the actual reason he was able to get out of the house undetected.

It was just the other day that Tommy had brought it up. Wilbur, the man who had saved his life, was apparently one of the big guys in a company called Craft & Co. Since they’d become something similar to friends while he paid for Tommy’s medical bills, he also offered him an internship position.

“I can’t leech off my uncle forever,” Tommy had said. They both knew he very well could with how stupidly high his uncle’s salary was. “I don’t much care for glass, but I think this is too good of an opportunity to miss out on!”

Tubbo agreed. He hadn’t seen Tommy so excited for something work related in ages, even though he supposedly adored Ender-Ice. It just meant he would be out of the house more. Who was he to deny his roommate a cool chance like this?

Mecha pulled a remote out of his pocket, switching it on and fiddling with the buttons. A distant beeping reached his ears, and then at least twenty drones surrounded him. Blink yelped, “Jeez! Give me a warning next time!”

“I forgot to tell you I added a few more features to make them more aerodynamic,” Mecha said, smiling mischievously. “I’m gonna send them to check out the usual areas, and we can patrol the outskirts.”

The bots dispersed around the east side, swishing through alleyways and scanning for anything that could count as a crime. Tubbo’s first time using them had been a failure, and they almost had to disable the bots completely as a result. 

Turns out that when you program something to look for crimes, you should probably leave out little things like jaywalking and littering, or else they will hone in on it. That had since been fixed.

“Ready to go?” Mecha stood and adjusted his jacket. Blink nodded and wrapped an arm around his companion’s shoulders. In an instant, they were gone, then back, then gone. They teleported in little bursts, a very effective form of transportation, eventually ending on the edge of the east’s residential sector.

Blink switched his voice changer on, and Mecha checked his watch. An alert came through from one of his bots; a mugging on twelfth street. They weren’t far enough to exhaust Blink’s teleportation, so they ran. 

They stayed quiet once they arrived, peeking from the rooftops into the alleyways below looking for the culprit. They found him wearing a black ski mask with a knife to some woman’s throat. Mecha gestured to Blink, and his companion disappeared.

He reappeared directly behind the mugger, holding a finger to his mask to try to keep the woman quiet. She was apparently too shocked by his sudden appearance to have much common sense, because she let out a loud scream. The man whipped around, and Blink barely had time to catch his arm before it could make contact with his head. 

Mecha rolled his eyes under his tinted goggles and attached his grappling hook to the roof. While Blink kept the criminal busy, he swung down and scooped up the woman. He set her down gently on top of the roof, but she was still shaking with fear. 

The shorter vigilante wanted to stay and calm her, but Blink was having trouble pinning the guy. He kept flailing, and that made getting the zip ties around his wrists very difficult. Mecha sighed and jumped down. 

Whereas Blink was a recently introduced vigilante, Mecha’s face was known across the east side. The mugger’s eyes widened and he struggled harder. Blink had his legs pinned to the ground, with great effort, but his arms and by extension his knife were still free. 

He made an attempt to slash at Mecha’s ankles, crying out in pain as his wrist was trapped beneath a combat boot instead. The vigilante never pressed hard, but weak-willed criminals always writhed like it hurt. With two against one, they managed to get zip ties around his hands and feet. 

Blink brought the woman down from the roof. She seemed shaken, but was looking a lot better now that she fully processed the situation. They gave her back the cash the mugger had stolen, and she gave them gum as a thank you. An anonymous tip was sent to the police, and they were gone.

They stuck to the rooftops again, Mecha happily chewing the gum, and Blink pocketing it for later. Every few minutes, one of the bots sent an alert to Tubbo’s watch, and then had to go deal with it. Over the course of two hours, they dealt with three more muggings, an attempted car robbery, and a convenience store break-in.

So, when the bots sent one more alert of a mugging to the watch, they didn’t think twice.

They didn’t think about the fact that this street wasn’t in what could be considered the residential area anymore.

They didn’t think about the countless empty rows of warehouses that surrounded them.

They didn’t think about the intentional lack of witnesses.

They didn’t think until they were face-to-face with a bigger threat than they’d ever encountered before.

Heroes didn’t like vigilantes. It was a fact of the world. They’d already fought Alien a few weeks back, but it hadn’t led to anything. Their powers were too evenly matched, and all they could do was exchange mutual banter. 

That was a minor hero. This wasn’t.

Ace wasn’t exactly the top of the ranks, but he was close. He didn’t reach the Dream Team’s immense fame, not by a long shot. He was rude, and covered in scars from battles gone wrong. He wasn’t what you pictured when he thought of a hero. The television hid those details to the best of their abilities, but they were impossible not to notice when he was standing right in front of you.

Blink grabbed Mecha’s arm the moment he saw him, clearly preparing for the worst. Ace didn’t seem too worried though. He grinned slowly, revealing one golden tooth, and dropped the bot he’d hijacked. It was smashed to bits. Mecha’s stomach churned.

“Hello, gentlemen,” the hero spoke smoothly. “It seems chance has finally brought us together.”

“Bullshit,” Mecha spat. He didn’t mean to sound so aggressive, but he worked hard to build each bot. “You did this! There’s no chance involved.”

“I guess you’re right,” Ace hummed. “I did manipulate the odds a little. How could I not when you two are so tricky to find?”

Mecha’s blood ran cold as their opponent threw a single playing card onto the ground in front of them. Smoke immediately billowed out, surrounding the two vigilantes. Blink pulled Mecha closer. They were both on full alert.

“Blink,” the shorter whispered. “Get us out of here. This isn’t worth the trouble.”

His companion tensed, quietly responding, “No can do. I don’t know the area well enough, and with the smoke I can’t see where I need to go. It’s too dangerous to teleport blindly.”

Shit.

So they were stuck in a cloud of smoke with no escape route and a professional hero somewhere nearby. 

Ace’s laugh seemed to echo around them, “Something the matter, boys?”

His figure appeared beside them, and they jumped away. 

“What do you want,” Mecha asked, trying to keep any hesitance out of his voice.

“I don’t need a reason to arrest two illegal vigilantes,” he responded. “It’s technically my job.”

Blink had a scowl in his tone as he said, “We don’t want to play your game.”

“What game? There’s no games being played here,” Ace hummed.

He was one of the flashier heroes from the little Mecha could remember of him. His costume was hardly a costume at all; a pair of dark slacks and suspenders over a white button up, with a seemingly-normal beanie pulled over his eyes as a mask. Mecha knew enough about the fabric type of the hat to know it was completely see through, like a one way mirror.

Ace loved to play with his targets before he arrested them. His advanced equipment, such as his playing cards, allowed him to make anyone’s life a living hell. Honestly, he acted more like an anti-villain than a hero. His methods were cruel, and his fanbase was nonexistent.

“Lighten up!” The hero cackled. It was a horrible sound, teasing the border between friendly and psychotic. “I’m not actually going to arrest you.”

Mecha moved carefully, keeping his hands hidden behind his back. “What do you want then?”

He pressed a button on the side of his watch. 

“You two are a very impressive pair,” Ace said. He walked a slow, calculating circle around them. “I saw your debut the other day, big guy. What was your name again? Blink?”

Blink huffed, straightening his suit, “Don’t act like you forgot.”

Ace laughed again, “Don’t be ridiculous. I never forget.”

That was his power, after all. Ace never forgot. He had a perfect memory, and he used it with chilling precision.

“What do you want,” Mecha said for the third time. “Stop beating around the bush.”

“What a shame.” Ace stretched lazily. “You’re no fun. Fine, I’ll tell you!”

A gust of wind slashed through the fog, and it blew away. Blink could teleport now. They could escape. Why weren’t they?

“What I’m about to say is very confidential, so don’t go snitching, alright?” Ace brought his hands to his hips, his smile falling. “We have reason to believe that the Corporation is planning something huge. We want to be completely prepared.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with us,” Mecha cut in. This was taking too long. 

“The hero agency wants to recruit you.”

Ace stood tall, rigid. He was serious.

“What?” Blink’s voice wavered. “What do you mean?”

Ace clicked his tongue. “Your fight with Alien should’ve put the idea in your heads, so I’m here to get your answers. Are you joining us or not?”

The two stilled. They both remembered with certainty the strange things the minor hero had suggested. Alien wasn’t known to be vocal during fights. He also wasn’t known to target vigilantes, so they listened very intently.

“Your powers are quite extraordinary, you know,” Alien had said. “The agencies would probably kill to give you a license.”

“Shut up and leave us alone,” Mecha snapped back. Blink teleported him out of the way of yet another attack. It was all they’d been doing the entire battle.

“What do you think,” Alien asked, cocking his head to the side as he watched them blip around the rooftop. “If you were offered the chance to be a hero, would you take it?”

Mecha had brushed it off, assuming the taunt wasn’t meant for him in the first place. Agencies were probably filled with engineers twice his skill level. Blink was the real star. Teleportation powers without a magic item were rare, if they existed at all, so it was understandable that he would catch a few eyes.

Tommy proved that to be true on the day of Blink’s debut. Tubbo came home to his roommate watching the news broadcast again and again like it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. Of course, the media didn’t know that it was only minor teleportation, and that they had simply been hiding on the other side of the building after their grand escape.

They’d worked for months to perfect that debut, and it came out exactly how the two vigilantes had wanted. It captured the attention of anyone with access to the internet. Unfortunately, that included Alien and the other heroes.

Later, they would find that the audio of their fight had been completely blocked out. 

“What the hell are you talking about,” Blink growled at the hero in front of them. “Alien didn’t tell us anything like that!”

Mecha didn’t correct him.

“So it seems he wasn’t persistent enough with his suggestions,” Ace muttered under his breath. Mecha shivered. He had a feeling Alien would be hearing about this later. “Alright then. I can give you gentlemen a little while longer to think about it if you’d like?”

Mecha was about to respond when a buzzing sound hit his ears. The three turned in time to see a small army of drones rushing towards them at full speed. A grin came to the faces of the vigilantes. They were saved.

Ace scoffed, “You little cheaters.”

But there was nothing he could do. The bots surrounded the boys and created enough of a distraction that Blink could teleport them away. Once they were successfully around the corner, Mecha pressed the button on his watch. The bots retreated back to their programmed routes.

Ace stood alone in the midst of abandoned warehouses. 

“I’ll find you,” he shouted, his voice bouncing off brick walls. “And you’d better have an answer by then!”

Silently, Mecha and Blink teleported away.

Chapter Text

Tommy was always suspicious of Tubbo, but recently it was reaching a concerning level. His best friend could make a fully-functioning cannon from a few rubber bands and a stapler. Watching out for him had always been one of Tommy’s main jobs. Letting that kind of power go unchecked could be dangerous for everyone. 

Which is why, when Tubbo started leaving the apartment on his days off, Tommy worried. The brunette boy loved the garage, but he loved relaxing on the couch more. This wasn’t like all the times Tubbo had left the house to scavenge for parts for his latest creation. 

Recently, he would come back at weird hours of the night, sneaking bags and smiling when he thought Tommy couldn’t see. Except, he could see. He saw it all, and he wasn’t stupid. He knew his best friend better than anyone else.

Tubbo was obviously dating someone.

There was no other explanation. If he caught the guy coming back from one of his late-night mystery adventures, Tubbo would stammer for an excuse. He was flustered, and reasonably so if he was trying to cover up a date. Tommy never pressed. He knew Tubbo would introduce him to his new secret lover in due time.

So, when Tubbo escaped from their apartment on Sunday, hiding a bag, Tommy let him go. He cast a sideways glance out the window, laughing to himself as he spotted his friend running to his destination. Whoever he was meeting was a very lucky individual.

He couldn’t dwell on it for too long, though, because he was expecting Wilbur any moment. 

Eret had made it extremely clear on their last meeting that she would be seeing Tommy that weekend. Who was he to complain? He was getting an official uniform out of this, and he was in desperate need of one. 

Sure enough, that familiarly stupid car pulled up the second Tommy stepped out of his apartment building. Wilbur was in civilian clothes, though his apprentice didn’t really expect anything different. They hadn’t seen each other since the meeting with Eret a few days ago. It was almost refreshing.

Almost.

“Are you excited,” Wilbur said, barely hiding the giddiness in his own voice. Tommy rolled his eyes. “Eret makes the best costumes. They made mine, you know.”

“Really,” Tommy replied. “He did a fantastic job. You only look mostly idiotic.”

“Haha, very funny,” Wilbur scoffed. “But yes, she’s the creator of my original costume. I’ve upgraded it beyond the point of recognition since then, but she gets all the credit.”

“Were they the one to suggest those creepy contact lenses,” the younger hummed, picking at his shorts. Icarus’ eyes were a point of contention for him since their first interaction in Ender-Ice. He couldn’t decide if he hated the soulless way they bore into you, or if he liked the idea that his mentor was that much more terrifying because of them.

“That was Phil, actually,” Wilbur said thoughtfully. “He wears ones just like it. We tried to convince Techno to join us, but the most we could get out of him were some boring red contacts that you can’t see under his skull mask.”

“Hey,” Tommy interjected. “I happen to think red is very cool.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” the other man huffed sarcastically. Tommy hugged himself defensively, and his signature red hoodie seemed to hug back. “Anyway, we’ll probably do the same with you if we can. Totally black contacts keep them from finding out more of our personal details, and I don’t need you taking any risks.”

He shivered. Contacts wouldn’t be a problem, but the idea of a hero being close enough to look him in the eyes was unsettling. Tommy wouldn’t be ready to fight for a while, not by a long shot, but each second that passed seemed to stress him more.

The drive lasted only a few minutes, and Tommy was surprised to recognize the street they parked on. In fact, if he craned his neck, he could make out Puffy’s laundromat in the distance. Surely a supervillain like Firefly wasn’t this close to him the whole time, right?

Wrong.

“Hello! Welcome to Flashy Fits,” a sing-songy voice greeted as they stepped through the doors. Eret peeked her head out from around a rack of clothes and dropped the facade. “Oh. It’s you.”

He moved into the open and put his hands on his hips. Tommy got a bit of whiplash from the sight of a supervillain in civilian clothing. He was used to Wilbur, whose style was more like a weasel had discovered thrifting, but Eret was different. 

Their hair was fluffy and wild, but its mess looked tame with the rest of him. He managed to make a corset and four inch heels appear casual. Perhaps the most shocking part were her eyes; Whereas they had been a stormy white void on their last meeting, they were a charmingly normal blue now.

“That’s no way to greet an old friend,” Wilbur snickered. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Much less a paying customer.”

“Don’t push your luck, Icarus,” Eret hissed, playful venom seeping into his tone. “You always do this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the brunette said. 

“Oh, Firefly! I’ll come save you from those terrible heroes because we are such wonderful friends,” Eret mocked, raising their voice ten octaves higher to properly capture Wil’s energy. “Ignore the fact that I love exploiting you for favors and I definitely wouldn’t reach out if I didn’t need something!”

Tommy had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop the laughter that threatened to spill out. Wil’s smile had gone from smug to a strained kind of polite, and it was clear he was aware of his own faults. 

“Never mind that,” the minor villain sighed, waving it away and turning her attention to Tommy. “I have nothing against you, kid. Just let me say that you picked an awful person to apprentice under.”

Tommy agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on back.” Eret gestured to a fitting room in the back. “We’ll take your measurements and a basic description of what you want. I’ve got a couple of catalogues you can look over if you need ideas.”

“I’ll go look over the civilian clothes,” Wilbur said. Eret nodded, but Tommy stopped him.

“Wait. Why are you looking at those,” he asked. “I’ve got plenty of shit. I’ve kinda been a civilian my whole life.”

Wilbur snorted, sharing a look with Eret, who didn’t even hesitate as she said, “Tommy, I appreciate your unique style, but that will not cut it at any formal event.”

Tommy couldn’t argue. They were right. Which sucked.

He owned a handful of dressy clothes, but besides the occasional school dance, he didn’t really need any. He didn’t know terribly much about villain life, but if two famously infamous people were telling him he had to look good, he would trust them.

Eret led him to the back and pulled a tape measure from a drawer. They got the basic measurements done fairly quickly, as if they did this frequently. Tommy wondered silently how long they’d been making clothes. 

“Alright,” they hummed after a few minutes of writing in a notepad. “We’re done with this. I’ll grab you those catalogues, and you can figure out the details with Wilbur. Villain disguises are a long process, so don’t think for a second that you can rush this.”

The catalogues were a lot like professional magazines, but for villains. Tommy’s jaw was on the floor the entire time he flipped through it. Criminals he saw on the news every day were posing in full costume like models, and it looked good . What the hell?

Arguably, the issues were quite old. When Tommy asked Wil about it, his mentor told him that they only publish once a year, and it's mostly a way for new villains to be seen by the older ones. He confirmed that Tommy would get a photoshoot of his own once he officially debuted.

An idea came to mind and he started shuffling through the stack towards some of the earliest copies. Wilbur watched him, an amused smile on his face as Tommy successfully held up one. Icarus, Midnight, and Fortress had been around for years at that point, but if he was correct about the year…

“Ahah!” Tommy let out a happy hum as he found the page he was searching for. It was the earliest possible copy, so it wasn’t the exact year of their debut, but it was close. In all his young glory, Midnight posed for the camera.

His face had always been covered by a huge veil, so Phil didn’t have to emote much. His arms were open, and behind him, his giant shadowed wings stretched across the page. Midnight’s original costume had a lighter green robe in contrast to his modern costume with a dark green cloak.

The next page over was Fortress. Techno’s mouth was pulled into a flat line, and Tommy guessed he didn’t want to do this photoshoot. His red cape billowed around him and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. No matter how casual his stance, his presence occupied the entire space.

Tommy noted that, at that time, Fortress’ pink hair was cut short. He also wore a different mask. It was simple, black, but it showed off his eyes infinitely more than his current boar skull mask did. As Wilbur had mentioned, they were a sharp red, and they stared directly at the camera. 

He shivered and flipped the page. His mentor shifted next to him, and a grin grew on Tommy’s face. Icarus’ original outfit was a long brown trench coat with a beanie over his mop of curls. Across the bottom half of his face was a black mask, very plain compared to the gold-leaf trimmed accessory he wore now.

Wilbur looked far more comfortable than Techno did, but he wasn’t half as intimidating as Phil. He had his black contacts in, but they weren’t as striking with the old costume. 

“That’s the one I used before we found Eret,” Wil muttered. “She spruced it up to look like the one I have now.”

Tommy bit back a smile as he pictured the great Icarus thinking a trenchcoat was a good enough costume piece. Although, to be fair, it took the infamous trio a few years to rise to the level of fame that stuck to their names nowadays. He probably didn’t think it mattered for a minor villain.

He probably didn’t expect to have an apprentice five years later who would be teasing him until the end of time about it. Though the photo wasn’t that embarrassing, since Wilbur looked like someone who could get any girl he wanted, Tommy wasn’t letting him live it down. 

“Alright, gentlemen,” Eret said, walking over with a few sheets in hand. They handed them to Tommy and he noticed an array of different colors. “While you’re picking a design, I urge you to also pick a color scheme. Preferably before dark.”

Tommy shut up, remembering that he was still on someone else’s time. Eret left them again. He returned to flipping through the issues. Finally, his eyes caught on one villain in particular. 

This guy’s photo appeared to be the only one framed in a non–intimidating way. He was smiling at the camera with pearly white teeth and a carefree stance. His mask covered the upper half of his face, and peaking out from underneath his hood, he had dark brown hair. The main color of his costume was gold with splashes of green here and there. 

Tommy was about to read his name when Wilbur snatched the catalogue away. “Hey,” the younger cried. “I was reading that!”

“Don’t hesitate on that page,” Wil warned, wearing a stern expression. “Eret won’t make a costume like his, and it's best that you don’t let her see that you’re looking at it.”

“Why,” Tommy asked. “What’s wrong with that guy?”

Wilbur didn’t answer. He handed the boy a different magazine, the one from last year, and returned to browsing the store. Tommy waited until he was out of view and picked up the previous book again.

Tommy wasn’t one to listen. He never had been, really. He quickly flipped to the page he was supposed to ignore and snapped a picture on his phone. Then, he was careful to set it back where his mentor had thrown it. 

“Wil,” he called out. The brunette’s head popped up from behind a rack of shirts. “I’m having a lot of trouble choosing. I don’t want to copy another guy. Could you give me some tips?”

“I guess,” Wilbur grumbled. He stole the magazine from Tommy’s hands, but this time it wasn’t to hide anything. “You’re going to be tagging along with me for a while, so you’ll need to be aerodynamic. Cloaks are nice to keep you hidden, but they can be a pain while running, especially if you’re new to it.”

He picked up the color palette options that Eret had left and compared them to something on the page. Tommy stretched to try and see what he was doing.

“I’m going to assume red’s your favorite color,” the older of the two said, mostly to himself. “If we pair that with black, you’ll look like some dumb racecar driver. We could try to make you match with the rest of the Corporation, but Phil’s green would clash and my hints of gold would bleed together. Techno uses white for the fluff of his cloak. I wonder what Eret could do with that?”

“I could manage.”

Eret surprised them both and they jumped. He set down a hanger with a white dress shirt and khakis. Wilbur perked up at them, and Tommy guessed that it was probably what he’d been searching for this entire time. 

“A lot of my clients don’t know what works best for them at first,” Eret explained. She collected the magazines and brushed each of their covers lovingly. “It might take me a bit longer, but I could sketch a couple of designs and send them to you later. Would you prefer that?”

“Yes please,” Tommy gasped. “This is way too hard.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, though he didn’t protest. Eret directed their attention to him and said, “You wanted aerodynamics right? How about we sacrifice a bit of that for more resistant materials until your kid can completely take care of himself. At first he’ll definitely need to be able to tank hits rather than outrun them.”

“Do you need to know my villain name or anything for this costume? Because I haven’t picked it out yet,” Tommy butted in. Eret gave him a wide-eyed look.

“Why the hell would I need that,” they sputtered.

Wilbur caught on. “Tommy please don’t tell me you were thinking about those heroes whose entire costumes are just the first letter of their aliases sewed onto a spandex suit.”

“Is that not a good idea for a costume,” the boy asked, shrinking back. 

“For the heroes, it’s fine. We’re villains! Our whole job is to outdo them, and fashion is no exception,” Eret declared. They returned to their work. Wil shot him one last glance and joined them.

Tommy let them hash out the finer details, entranced by the whole process. It felt like an entirely different language. Eventually, they had to leave. Wilbur bought him the dress shirt and khakis that Eret had pulled for them. The costume sketches would take a little while, but they would be in touch.

The second they stepped out of the shop, Tommy was blinded by the sun. They’d been in there for a lot longer than expected. His stomach agreed, growling viciously. 

“Hungry?” Wilbur smiled down at him. He wanted to punch him in the face. “Come along, then. After-Hours isn’t too far and I know you liked the nuggets.”

Tommy flushed, but Wil was already walking. It wasn’t a false statement. The nuggets were indeed delicious, but he doubted he would be eating them in front of their supervillain namesake.

Never again.

To get to the restaurant, they passed Puffy’s laundromat. Tommy couldn’t see through the windows, but he knew she was in there. It was past lunch time, creeping more into the early evening, so she would go home soon. 

“I’m sorry we chased you in there.”

Tommy glanced up at Wil, surprised. “What?”

“The first day we met,” Wilbur clarified. “We chased you into a laundromat. We were so surprised to find a kid who could handle our powers that we didn’t want to lose you.”

Weeks had passed, but Tommy still felt the adrenaline of ducking behind Puffy’s counter to hide. “Did you know I was there?”

“Even with your little fence parkour, Techno and I are significantly faster than you,” Wilbur chuckled. “We watched you run in. The only reason we didn't follow immediately was because we didn’t want witnesses. The lady behind the counter is a regular at After-Hours, so we let her hide you.”

Tommy shivered. He supposed it was a little unlikely that he was able to fully outrun two supervillains. Some part of him felt warm that they let him go instead of pursuing further. 

After-Hours was a lot nicer the second time. Previously, he’d been worried about the shady door placement and the weird characters hanging around outside. Somehow, though, walking with Wilbur made everything less terrifying. 

Maybe it was because Icarus could’ve taken them all down without breaking a sweat. 

A pleasant burst of air conditioning hit them as they entered, and Phil waved from behind the bar. “Look what the cat dragged in,” the older man cheered. “I’m guessing you’re not here to take over my shift, are you?”

Wilbur laughed, “No, not today. We’re here to make your life much harder. Little guy’s hungry.”

“How dare he be hungry,” Phil scoffed playfully. “I’m guessing you want the nuggets and coke again today, right?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Wil went on an hour-long tangent about the fact that you ordered those, so I couldn’t forget if I tried,” Phil explained. Wilbur glared. “It made my week.”

Tommy was blushing again, but he felt slightly better. If it bothered Wilbur, it must’ve been the right choice. He ordered it again, ignoring his mentor’s death stare burning holes in his head. Phil dipped into the kitchen to put their requests in, and the two found some seats.

“You’re the worst, you know,” Wilbur said, unprompted. “I hate you.”

“Whatever you say, big man,” Tommy snickered. “You chose me. All I did was serve froyo. I told you I was nothing special.”

“That’s the most irritating thing I’ve ever heard.” Wilbur set his face against the table. “You are special, which means I couldn’t pick anyone else even if I did hate you.”

Tommy’s adrenaline spiked a bit. It wasn’t because he was flattered by his mentor indirectly saying he didn’t hate him. That would be a stupid thing to latch on to. Very stupid.

“It’s obnoxious how special you are,” Wilbur mumbled. “I wish I had a power like yours.”

The younger didn’t try to hide his noise of surprise, “What? Your power’s fucking epic!”

Wilbur glanced up, suddenly looking ten years older. Before he could respond, a plate of dinosaur nuggets were placed in front of Tommy. Phil also slid into their booth, and that was when the boy realized the bar was practically empty. 

“What are we talking about,” the older blonde asked. He had smile lines next to his eyes, and the opposite of a resting bitch face. Phil overall felt a lot more relaxed compared to how he was in the office. “Don’t let me get in the way of a good conversation.”

“I was just about to tell Tommy that we’ll have to start working out soon,” Wilbur stated. “He needs to build up some muscle so he won’t look like a fish flailing around the battlefield.”

Tommy scoffed, “I am plenty muscly. I don’t need your fucking work-outs.”

“It’s better than what Techno and Wil had to do,” Phil said absentmindedly. 

“Phil,” Wilbur cut in, a warning in his tone. “Don’t.”

Tommy had never seen a mischievous expression take over someone’s face quite as fast as it did with Phil in that moment. Wilbur glared with violence, and whatever silent conversation they were having, the third member of their party was thoroughly enjoying the show.

“What’s wrong, Wilbur?” Phil was smirking. Terrifying. “You don’t want me to tell Tommy that you and Techno did years of gymnastics to become better villains?”

Wilbur slammed his hand on the table, rearing like he might start strangling his father right then and there. “I did not!”

His voice cracked and he paled.

Tommy burst into laughter, “Oh my God! You were a gymnastics kid!”

“You got a problem with gymnastics,” another voice chimed in. The three at the table jumped. Techno ignored them and slid into the booth like he was invited. “It’s what gave us an advantage in battles when we were still too young to effectively use our powers.”

“Uh,” Tommy stammered. There was something intimidating about being in the presence of all three supervillains at once. “No. My roommate, Tubbo, used to do gymnastics. If you’re using it to help in battles, I think I get it.”

“Techno only used it for battle, yeah,” Phil said. “But Wil actually competed. You know he reached level eight in just five years? We were so proud of him. Actually, I might have some videos of his meets-”

“And that’s enough of that!” Wilbur snatched Phil’s phone out of his hands. 

“Don’t worry, Tommy,” Techno said. His grin told Tommy that he was just as amused by this as Phil. “I’ll send you those later.”

“I should’ve been your apprentice instead,” the blonde boy laughed. Techno puffed up his chest and Wilbur punched his shoulder. 

“Nah, you couldn’t handle being my charge,” Techno said. “Unlike Wil, I can’t sit around and do nothin’ for weeks.”

“But,” Phil cut in. “You are doing exactly that until we’re ready to debut Tommy. We don’t need to risk having an incapable apprentice around if we need Wil on the battlefield.”

“He claims he could take Glitch in a fight already,” Wilbur announced, like the traitor he was. “Says he looks like an asshole with no training.”

Phil raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Having gone against him, I’ll tell you that’s horribly untrue. He fights like a rabid dog; absolutely nothing is off-limits to him.”

“And don’t even mention Speedrunner,” Techno groaned. “That guy’s the worst. He can’t focus on battling just one person, so he has to keep himself entertained by fawning over Glitch like he’s some sort of saint.”

“Godly intervention is the only way you could explain his damn healing. It makes no sense,” Wilbur said. “Somehow, broken bones are never set incorrectly, and bullet holes are never as fatal as they could be. It’s like they have the same invincibility as we do. Bullshit.”

Tommy bit his lip to try and keep the stars out of his eyes. Listening to them talk felt like a weird dream come true. They were celebrities in the worst possible way, and they knew secrets about other celebrities that the media would never broadcast; Glitch’s fighting style, Speedrunner’s fawning, and an inexplicable power. 

“I could still take him,” Tommy muttered decidedly, munching on his food. Phil shot him a quick smile. 

“Whatever you say, mate,” he sighed. The oldest of the group slid out of the booth and stretched. “I should get back to work. We’re almost to the dinner rush, so I need to prep the kitchen.”

Once Phil had left, only Techno and Wilbur remained. They were having a staring contest, but Tommy wasn’t sure why. They were definitely brothers, that much was obvious. Tommy was an only child himself, but when he was jumping between foster homes he got samples of what siblings were like. 

There were times where he wished he had a brother growing up, especially after being adopted by his uncle. A doctor who was always on call didn’t make for very good company. Tommy was often alone in their apartment on the north end of town. 

“So,” Techno started. “Icarus nuggets, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Wilbur blurted.

Tommy nodded furiously. “I originally got ‘em because I wanted to stick it to this bitch after he bothered me at work, but now I really like them.”

“Better than a fucking mini pizza,” Wilbur said. 

“You’re just jealous Phil let me pick my meal,” Techno rebutted.

“What could I have possibly done to piss Phil off that badly?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Your roots are showing,” Wilbur shouted, stabbing an accusatory finger towards his brother.

Techno gasped, putting a hand over his head. Tommy hadn’t noticed before, but now that it was pointed out, the pink had faded slightly at the top of his head, revealing a more natural brown. Wilbur was all-too smug to point it out, as if it were some huge deal. 

“Mr. Perfect here hates his natural hair,” Wil explained to his apprentice. “Says it destroys his individuality or whatever. We look really alike when it’s not dyed to death. We could practically be twins.”

Techno grumbled, standing and walking away without defending himself. Phil said something to him before he slipped into the kitchen to hide. Tommy puzzled, a bit curious, “Puffy, the lady who brought me here for the first time, said that you guys hire criminals and stuff. What’s that about?”

Wilbur nodded. “That’s partially true. It can be really hard for civilians with criminal records to find stable jobs, but Phil believes that everyone deserves a chance. I mean, it would be hypocritical of us not to.”

“How is it partially true, then,” Tommy asked, sipping his coke. 

“We hire some regular people as part-timers, but mostly we go for minor villains and vigilantes,” Wil said. 

“Woah, really?” He couldn’t imagine a bunch of villains working to make chicken nuggets. Although, he also hadn’t imagined Midnight in a bartender outfit before. “That’s cool.”

“Phil gives them flexible work hours so they can call off work if they get seriously injured in battle without worrying about being fired.” Wilbur stole a nugget, earning some protest from the blonde. “They don’t know our identities, but they’re plenty grateful to him.”

“Is that why you haven’t gotten blown up from naming shit on the menu after villains?” Tommy was almost finished eating. 

Wil laughed, “Most of the items on the menu aren’t named after villains, they’re named by the villains.”

Tommy stopped chewing. “What?”

“Every item on the menu was what the individual wanted to eat, and Phil named them accordingly,” the brunette replied. “Like when Minx stumbled in here after a fight with Swirl and wanted to drown her sorrows in beer and fries. Or when Hellspawn popped in the day he stopped the robbery down at the harbor, craving fish.”

The boy gaped. As if the After-Hours restaurant couldn’t get any cooler, they had celebrity appearances? People like Hellspawn and Diamond had possibly eaten a meal in this very seat? People he’d idolized, feared, researched? 

“Holy shit,” was all he could say. 

~~~~

They left around thirty minutes later. Apparently, they weren’t done with their little mentor-apprentice field trip. Wilbur mentioned someone called Niki and that they were going to a gym. Tommy wasn’t sure he felt quite up to yet another social interaction, but he had no choice.

But if Wilbur tried to take him anywhere other than his house after this, he was going to scream out the window that he was being kidnapped.

They pulled up outside of a large building. It was some sort of major sports complex, complete with two basketball courts and several other similar spaces. Wil led him to a side room. It looked like a bigger version of the gyms Tommy was used to.

There were treadmills, weights, and other gym-related machineries. He didn’t know their names. He was never an exercise guy. That was Tubbo’s thing. For a little guy, he was buff. 

In the middle of the room, a head of bright pink hair caught his eye. His mind immediately went to Techno, but the man was still moping in the back of After-Hours. The hair was, in actuality, attached to a much shorter woman. She was beyond ecstatic to see Wilbur approaching.

“Wil!” Her voice was high pitched and sweet. Wilbur looked like an even bigger asshole next to her. “I’m so glad you came! You’ve been canceling so much recently.”

Her eyes landed on Tommy and she visibly backed off. He frowned. Was something wrong with him?

“Niki,” Wilbur greeted. “It’s good to see you. This is Tommy. He’s apprenticing at the company with me.”

The woman nodded, and slowly she seemed to regain her energy. Tommy paid attention to the way Wil introduced them. This wasn’t like the Firefly situation, where everyone seemed to know Icarus’ true identity. This was a genuine civilian. Somehow that felt rarer than meeting another supervillain.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tommy said, holding out a hand for her to shake. When Niki took it, he was taken aback by the strength behind her grip. She was small, but obviously fit. Without thinking, he added, “You’re strong.”

That seemed to brighten her up, and a giant grin rose to her face. Wilbur chuckled, “Niki is my personal trainer. She’s the best there is, and I want her to train you.”

“Oh my,” Niki hummed. “So this is the kid you mentioned the other day.”

Tommy wanted to correct her, to say that he was not, in fact, a kid. However, she looked like she could crush him faster than Techno, even if she was a head shorter. So he said, “Yeah, that’s me! The kid!”

“I can see why Wil wants to bulk you up,” Niki commented. “You’re a stick.”

Tommy’s eye twitched. 

“Today you’re just going to discuss your schedule to plan how often you’ll meet,” Wilbur explained. “This isn’t negotiable, by the way. Working with Niki is required.”

Tommy wasn’t sure why he had to say that, because Niki seemed lovely. Maybe it had something to do with the working out part. He definitely had a few words about that. He was not a stick.

They decided on meeting twice per week, Tuesdays and Thursdays, after his shift at Ender-Ice. They would re-think the schedule once school restarted. Tommy felt a little awkward when he imagined going back to school in two months. It would be his last year at high school, but he’d be a supervillain in the making.

Would his guidance counselor accept supervillain as a career path?

Niki walked them back to the car when they finally had to leave, and Tommy was secretly excited for their first session in two days. Wilbur dropped him off at his apartment as the sun started to set, and Tubbo already had dinner on the table. 

He went to sleep that night the second his head hit his pillow, exhausted.

Chapter Text

Tommy understood why Wilbur made his meetings with Niki mandatory.

This woman was a nightmare.

She was vicious, and unrelenting. Their first meeting was hell. Her smiles were an illusion, meant to lure you into a false sense of security so she could crush your spirit. She laughed in the face of despair, feeding on the blood of the weak!

She was a brutal personal trainer.

Niki was small and sweet before and after their sessions, just long enough for Wilbur to walk away. Then, she was terrifying. She had no problem yelling to motivate him, and if she had to shove him around, she wouldn’t shy away. 

Tommy was sore beyond all sense of the word. Niki forced him to run two laps around the basketball courts right off the bat. She switched to push-ups and squats after that, then fifty-thousand exercises he was too close to passing out to remember.

Wilbur could not have come soon enough. He was crumpled on the ground, clawing at his water bottle. Tommy could’ve begged his mentor to carry him, but his voice was raw from bitching the entire work-out. 

“He’s flimsy,” Niki said. “But he’ll be whipped into shape in no time.”

Tommy wanted to take offense to that, but she was so obviously right.

“I’ll give him a list of exercises he should do every morning and night in order to keep him fit,” she yawned. “If he sticks to it, he won’t be as sore for our next couple of sessions.”

Tommy would do anything to never feel this pain again. He should’ve quit his apprenticeship, moved to another town, whatever he could do. But he couldn’t, because the moment he was in the car, Wilbur said, “I’m very proud of you. I’ll get you some ice-cream to celebrate.”

He hated that he could be bought so simply. 

Tubbo fretted over him when he got home, groaning in pain. It felt nice to be babied, but he couldn’t relax. The next day, he had work. Being a cashier was suddenly ten times harder. His legs, core, and arms burned. 

Niki did not let up, no matter how much Tommy complained. Two weeks and four sessions later, he was finally starting to feel a little better. True to her word, he was never as sore as he was after their first meeting, and that was definitely because of the repetitive work-outs he was required to do before bed. 

There hadn’t been a single night in those two weeks where he struggled to fall asleep. It was more of a fight to stay awake past eight in the evening. Wilbur drove him to work, and Tubbo took care of laundry, so he could relax during his rare freetime. 

Ranboo was less sympathetic, but Tommy didn’t really mind. His manager had fussed over him the entire time he was injured, even going so far as to do his work for him. For that entire three week healing process, Ranboo never skipped a shift or went home early like he usually did when there were fewer customers.

“If you’re just sore from working out, I think that’s something you should have to learn to work with,” Ranboo told him smugly. Tommy had forgotten how sadistic his boss could be. Obviously, there hadn’t been enough rowdy customers for him to take out his anger on. “It’s good you want to work on yourself.”

That was that. As much as Tommy considered Ranboo a close friend, he couldn’t argue with his boss. At least, not about this. There would always be arguments about who would clean the machines. 

Eret contacted him about halfway through the second week. Tommy wasn’t sure how they got his phone number, but he was so pleased by the sketches that he didn’t mind. There were three possible costume designs that Wilbur specifically enjoyed. 

They were all red and fairly simplistic, because his mentor swore he would regret it if he chose a complicated outfit. 

“My trench coat was a bit much starting out,” Wilbur explained. “I had gymnastics training, as you know, but I kept tripping so it didn’t even matter. Since I’ve got years of practice now, I can afford to run around in a long cloak.”

Tommy decided on one of the designs, and Eret got to work. 

The talk of a costume reminded him of a certain photo in his camera roll. A week and a half prior, when Wil forbade him from looking at a certain hero in a catalogue, he had taken a picture of the page. 

It was right after dinner that he chose to look into it. Like he had seen previously, the villain in the picture was grinning and gold. He wasn’t threatening in the slightest, but he had to have been worth something to be in the magazine. Glancing down, Tommy read his name.

Giant.

Something about the name felt familiar. 

Tommy typed it into his search bar, but nothing came up. He couldn’t find the gold costume, the flashy smile, the villain in his entirety, anywhere. Like he’d never existed at all. He skipped through pages and pages of links to dead-end articles.

“Giant sales boom at local supermarket,” Tommy read as he scrolled, muttering out their names as if that would make one pop out to him. “Giant explosion caught on camera. Giant bug fossils. Top ten giant fish you never knew existed.”

Useless.

He pushed away from his desk, cradling his head in his hands. People don’t just disappear, especially not villains. There were always countless headlines after long-time criminals were put behind bars, or at the very least, there were people speculating about why the villains stopped showing up. 

But there was nothing; No speculations, no news articles, no blurry pictures. 

Tommy almost gave up as his eyes finally caught on something. He barely recognized her with short hair, but there she was. Puffy looked young dressed in all black, and she’d clearly been caught crying. It hurt his heart to see someone he cared for in such a state.

Her picture was attached to an obituary, under the family section. Tommy skimmed the words, feeling a bit guilty for prying into his friend’s personal life. Nowhere in there was the word ‘Giant’ said. Why did it come up, then?

Tommy read it more closely, attempting to understand the person it was about. There were few achievements, no surviving family members aside from Puffy, and no talk of the cause of death. He would have to seriously dig to figure this out.

One of the handful of achievements was a bit off. It said something about where the dead person worked, but Tommy had never heard of that building. Searching it presented the exact results he’d wanted:

“Bank of Pogtopia collapses, killing hundreds,” Tommy read, his voice a whisper. “In what is known to be the worst villain attack in the city’s history, 332 people have been reported dead, and police suspect the villain responsible is included in that toll.”

According to the article, the building fell due to all of its support beams being taken out in quick succession. Heroes saved who they could, but it wasn’t enough. Over three hundred deaths, and thirty people missing. Tommy wasn’t sure how he hadn’t heard of it.

It went on to say that it was located in the east of Pogtopia, which isn’t a typical place for businesses to base themselves. There was suspicion that, due to the placement and the way the building collapsed, it had been structurally unsound for a while. The property value was a lot cheaper there, and the bank had been, ironically, having financial issues. It would be easy for a powered person to bring it down.

Heroes banded together with the recovery teams to clean up the rubble and deliver care packages to affected families. Tommy huffed at the thought of trading someone’s life for a little basket of Get Well Soon cards. The hero agencies have always been a bit careless in his humble opinion.

Tommy clicked back to the tab with the obituary. If this guy worked in the collapsed bank like it said he did, then he was likely one of the hundred dead. He didn’t know Puffy’s relationship with him, but if they were family, that couldn’t have been taken lightly. 

He didn’t read anymore. It felt like he was intruding, though he still wasn’t sure why it came up when he searched for a non-existent villain. Tommy switched to researching the collapsed building. Why didn't he know about it? He was plenty old enough, even if he did live on the north side of town by that point.

It clicked in his head.

Hero agencies would consider this a huge failure. Civilians died on the job all the time, whether on purpose or just by getting caught in the crossfire, but this was way worse. Tommy would’ve considered it devastating if twenty people died. Three hundred?

The agencies must’ve kept it out of big media. There was no other explanation. Tommy scoffed at their cowardice, but it was five years ago, and he couldn’t do anything about it now.

The article he was reading said that the plot of land had been transformed into a memorial park. No matter how much Tommy looked, there was no other information on this incident. They didn’t know the villain responsible, nor the heroes who were on site when it happened. 

It made Tommy sick. He closed his computer and went to bed.

~~~~

“Hey, kid! How’s it going,” Tommy’s uncle boomed over the phone. 

It was time for their monthly, required, call. He liked his uncle well enough, so it wasn’t terribly burdensome. He just wasn’t sure what to say. He settled for, “I’m doing better.”

A few weeks ago, he’d finally broken the news to his uncle about getting shot. Tommy had to practically talk him down from buying a plane ticket that second. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his family fretting over him. 

“A really nice, rich guy took me to a doctor with a healing gift,” Tommy had said. That calmed his uncle down a lot. “They said that my resistance kept the injury from being that bad, and the rich dude paid for my physical therapy too. I’m all better, I promise.”

Now, weeks later, unsettling silence fell on their call. His uncle cleared his throat a bit, “Right. Well, I’m glad. You said the man who helped you was the son of Phil Craft?”

“Yeah, I’ve got an internship under him now,” Tommy explained. “I’m like his assistant. I think it could be a good job opportunity.”

“They’re a good family,” his uncle agreed. “The hospital here uses their glass. How’s your roommate?”

Tommy shrugged, though his uncle couldn’t see him. “Same as always. His machine gift is still cool. I think he’s secretly dating someone, though.”

The older man hummed half-heartedly. Tommy didn’t expect anything better. They didn’t have much in common, but he knew his uncle cared about him. Why else would he pay for an apartment and insist on phone calls? 

His uncle was no father, but it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t expected Tommy’s parents to die. He hadn’t known that he would be the only relative capable of taking in a kid. He did his best to transform his guest room into a kid-friendly area, but it was always a bit cold to Tommy. 

“I’m working out now,” Tommy said, searching for any topic to talk about. “I wanna get fit so I can beat people up.”

“That’s good,” his uncle chuckled. “I’ll take anything that could motivate you to be healthier. Do you like it?”

“My personal trainer’s really nice,” Tommy confirmed. “I think I’m in good hands.”

~~~~

Niki took no mercy, as usual.

It was their fifth session in the past three weeks, and he wanted to die. She kicked his ass metaphorically, and at one point, literally. In his defense, falling onto the floor after running a mile should be a totally acceptable thing to do. 

He didn’t have the mental capacity to think of anything else. The hour passed quickly, and he felt like a bowl of jelly. Surprisingly, this was an improvement. Last time, he felt more like his body was liquifying on the spot. 

Wilbur was all-too pleased to see his usually-talkative apprentice stunned into silence. Niki was all-too pleased to get paid to do so. Tommy wanted to be mad at them, but Wilbur always cheered him up the second they were in the car.

“Niki said you’re doing much better,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”

No matter how much that phrase was repeated, Tommy still enjoyed hearing it. 

His foster parents had never liked him, and his actual parents had been out of the picture for as long as he could remember. His uncle was great, but not in the way Tommy needed him to be.

When they discovered how minor Tommy’s power was, a permanent solemnity seemed to settle over their relationship. It was always, “I’m sorry, kid. Every power’s good for something. You just need to find it.” 

There was no room for pride in pity. 

Yet, here was Wilbur, smiling and saying all the right things. Tommy wanted to give him a hug, but he couldn’t feel his arms. He figured the thought alone counted for something.

The sun rested on the horizon. The sky was a mixture of pinks and oranges. Dusk threatened them with darker blues, and if they weren’t in a city, Tommy was certain a few stars would be visible already. The rocking of the car calmed him. 

“Wil,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “The other day you mentioned wishing you had a power like mine.”

Wilbur nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “I did.”

“What is your power exactly,” Tommy asked. “I’ve seen you in action and I still don’t know.”

“My key? That’s easy,” the brunette hummed. The item in question was pulled from where it had been tucked inside Wilbur’s shirt. It’s frowny face engraving looked kinda funny from this angle. According to Phil, after their first encounter with Tommy, they had started keeping their keys on necklaces rather than on keychains so they wouldn’t be dropped.

Tommy thought they were stupid for not doing that in the first place.

“My item is called the Emotion Key,” Wilbur said. His apprentice sucked in a breath. “It allows me to amplify emotions, so long as they already exist within my opponent.”

“No way,” Tommy gasped. He would’ve been bouncing in his seat if his bones didn’t feel like wet cardboard. “Is that why you always rile up the Devil during fights?”

Wilbur laughed, “Yes, that’s why. Although that guy’s so insane, I hardly have to do anything.”

If Midnight’s immunity had interested Tommy, this was information he would’ve killed for. Icarus’ power was always speculated to be something like charmspeak; a mind control that relied less on words than Minx’s. 

Emotions made infinitely more sense. 

“Like you saw when we were picking up Eret, I can use it on large groups of people,” Wilbur explained, clearly amused by the gleam in Tommy’s eyes. “The cops that day were all scared of me, which is almost always an emotion I can count on to be present. Increasing fear usually results in my enemies passing out or being too busy crying to care about me.”

“Wow,” was all Tommy could manage.

“It doesn’t last long on large groups, and it’s harder to use on heroes without evoking emotions through actions or words,” Wilbur said. “But I know how to make it my own.”

“That’s so cool,” his apprentice replied. “Why would you ever trade that for something as small as my power?”

Wilbur scoffed, “Your power is not small. Who told you that?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Tommy blurted, catching his mentor off guard.

“Uh,” Wil stammered. “My key’s great. It’s just not really mine, y’know?”

“It’s not your birth power, sure,” the boy said, shrugging. “What do you have then? It can’t be worse than mine.”

“Except it can,” he muttered, barely audible. “Especially if you don’t have a power at all.”

“You don’t have a power?” Tommy sat straight up, ignoring the sharp pains in his back.

Wilbur flinched. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“But that’s so rare! Everyone gets a little something,” Tommy blabbered. He didn’t notice the way his companion sank in his seat. “My uncle’s hands don’t shake, which is barely anything in my book. So few people are born without anything nowadays.”

“I know , Tommy,” Wilbur snapped. 

Tommy closed his mouth, excitement falling. 

“Ugh,” Wil groaned. “I’m sorry, but I know that I’m some statistical anomaly. It’s why my parents didn’t want me. They took one look at their below-average kid and tossed him into the streets.”

Shit.

Tommy didn’t mean for this to happen.

Children born without powers were rare, but not in a good way. They didn’t get the advantage in job interviews, or the easy life any parent should want for their kid. Powers showed up in puberty, usually, which meant that Wil was old enough to remember any slights against him.

Tommy recalled with startling accuracy the day he learned his gift. They thought it a disorder, so they spent all day in that overly-sanitized doctors office running tests. Pain tolerance was so boring. A kid in his class turned invisible when he sneezed, but he was stuck with slightly-less prominent scraped knees. 

And the pity in his uncle’s eyes. He couldn’t imagine how much greater that would’ve been had the tests shown he was powerless. Wilbur’s solemn expression said more than any words could. 

“I think you’re cool,” Tommy whispered. Wilbur twitched, but didn’t react besides that. “You’re such a terrifying villain that you don’t need any special bonuses.”

Wilbur cast him a sideways glance.

“I mean, could you imagine how the media would react,” he continued. “The most nefarious evildoer in Pogtopia, who can take down the Devil without so much as a scratch, has been kickin’ it for years without powers!”

He could see a pinch of a smile still hidden beneath his mentor’s scowl. He was close.

“Icarus, who drinks blood and bathes in the tears of his enemies, is setting an example for the underdogs,” Tommy launched into a full-fledged performance. “Coming this fall to a theater near you: the little cunt that could! ”

Wilbur snorted, and his cold exterior cracked. He gave Tommy a light punch on his shoulder, and the apprentice tried not to show how much his body opposed that. “You’re such an asshole,” Wil laughed. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Any time, big man.” Tommy smiled, lips a bit chapped from the sheer amount of liquid his body had lost during Niki’s work-out. He was unbelievably thankful for air conditioning. 

Then the road caught on fire. 

Wilbur swerved to avoid it, and the car groaned at the sudden stop. Tommy clutched his seat like he would go through the windshield otherwise. His mentor checked over him for injuries, but he didn’t have long before more fire burst from the surrounding buildings. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Wil muttered, kicking his door open and climbing out. Tommy didn’t have a death wish, so he opted to look through the windows. On top of a rooftop, a fight had broken out between Hothead and a hero he couldn’t see. 

They were moving quickly, and Hothead was clearly losing. Wilbur cursed under his breath and slid back into the car. He pressed the gas without warning, speeding off in the opposite direction. 

“What’s going on,” Tommy asked. 

“Speedrunner’s on patrol right now,” was all Wil said. They parked the car in a parking building a few blocks away. The brunette wasted no time throwing his costume on. His black contacts bore into Tommy’s soul as he debated what to do with his apprentice. 

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy stated. “Go do whatever you need to. I’ll follow on the ground at a distance.”

Wilbur - no, he was Icarus right now - nodded. Tommy forgot how fast the older man could run. He was jumping out of the parking building and landing on a roof a second later. Tommy sprinted, but his body was in no shape to go at full speed. 

Despite saying that he would follow Icarus, it was impossible to see him from the sidewalk. He had to let the sound of screaming lead him. Once Hothead was in view, he ducked into an empty alleyway. 

Tommy still couldn’t see the hero, Speedrunner, but he was certainly there. Every now and again, Hothead would dodge, or aim a pillar of flames in a certain direction. The fires leaned with the constantly shifting winds, the only visible proof of anything weird going on. 

Speedrunner was considered the number one hero by the media, but it was a tedious title. Heroes had spoken out against numbered rankings multiple times in interviews. They always said that it was stupid to compare. Everyone had their own strengths and weaknesses.

Tommy considered their points, digested the information, and decided they must’ve been the kids that received participation trophies growing up. 

Sure, everyone was good at something, but there was always gonna be someone better. Speedrunner was better. He was faster, stronger, and he could sell action figures like no one’s business. Fortress was his only true opponent. 

Tommy was a firm believer that some people should acknowledge when they’re the underdogs. If a police officer went around challenging every supervillain they saw to a fight, they’d end up dead in a ditch. The same would happen if a vigilante decided to antagonize Fortress. Speedrunner could be called number one for a reason, and the other guys should suck it up.

Tubbo had suggested that those opinions might’ve formed from a bit of insecurity on Tommy’s end, but Tubbo wasn’t a fucking therapist so it didn’t matter. 

It was hard to tell what was happening without being able to see both parties, but it was clear that Hothead was losing. His flames were too easily avoidable, and his occasional grunts of pain could be heard for miles. If Speedrunner wanted the fight to end, he wasn’t trying very hard.

It actually looked like he was toying with Hothead.

“Hey, Speedy!”

Icarus sat on the side of a building, letting his legs dangle over the edge. Hothead’s flames cast an ominous shadow over him, given that night had almost completely fallen. His cloak billowed out behind him and a smirk pulled at his lips. Tommy ignored his brain’s urge to run.

“Why don’t you quit playing around,” Icarus taunted. “And start fighting like a hero.”

Speedrunner stopped, finally visible. His costume was an obnoxious green, but if he moved at the right pace, it left a neon trail behind. Those were the most theatrics you could get out of boring superheroes like him. His eyes were covered by a white mask, which matched his white hair. 

Tommy knew from his fanboy days that Speedrunner’s natural hair color was actually something closer to dirty blonde. The hero agencies wanted their number one hero to have a defining feature, though, so he dyed it. When Tommy thought about it now, it reminded him of Techno.

“Finally,” Speedrunner laughed. “I knew you’d show your stupid face eventually!”

Icarus clambered to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets. Tommy shifted his weight uneasily. Something about the situation made him uncomfortable. Hothead had frozen in place, panting now that the attention was off of him. Slowly, he tried to back away.

Speedrunner’s form flickered and he was holding Hothead by the collar. The minor villain writhed against him, but his grip didn’t waver. He hummed a little tune, “You’ve been hiding from me, Icarus.”

“Hiding is a strong word,” Icarus scoffed playfully. “I’ve gotten bored of our fights. You’re so plain.”

“Oh really?” Speedrunner’s mouth twitched, barely visible to Tommy. He lifted Hothead clean off the ground by his shirt. The captured villain gasped as he was hung off the roof. Three stories was a fall that could be survived if it were someone like Tommy, but to a normal person, it was potentially fatal. 

“Taking hostages isn’t very heroic,” Icarus pointed out. Hothead latched onto Speedrunner’s arm and gagged as his shirt cut into his throat. Tommy noticed his mentor’s hands leaving his pockets. “It’s a shame you’re lacking this badly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Speedrunner growled. 

“Nothing,” Icarus said. He shrugged, rocking back and forth on his heels casually. “You’ve changed since our last fight, that’s all.”

“How so?” Tommy took note of the way Speedrunner’s free hand had curled into a fist.

“You were so slow while fighting Hothead that I could see you.” Icarus yawned. Fucking yawned . Tommy wasn’t sure where his mentor got the audacity. “But I guess that might be a good thing. If your powers are weakening, maybe your boyfriend will lose interest and I’ll have a chance.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Glitch is not my boyfriend,” Speedrunner huffed. “And we both know he won’t give you the time of day.”

“Whatever you say,” Icarus cackled. “If you are truly slowing though, our next group battle will be much more interesting. I’m excited to finally be able to attack Glitch without your interference.”

“I’m not slowing down,” Speedrunner said, his head ticking to one side in annoyance. There was electricity in the air. “Watch yourself, Icarus. You’re flying too close to the sun.”

“Wow,” Icarus muttered, though his voice projected all the same. “I’ve never heard that one before. Where’d you get that line? Reddit?”

Tommy watched as he stretched, a big, lazy movement. In doing so, his palms turned outward. Speedrunner’s breathing visibly quickened. 

He’d seen this before. Icarus downed a whole group of police officers by doing something similar. Tommy recalled what he learned about Wil’s power. He’d mentioned that it was harder to use on heroes without evoking emotions through words. 

Well, Speedrunner was certainly angry now. 

Hothead was dropped onto the roof, and then the hero disappeared. Icarus lowered his hands and dodged. Speedrunner became visible for a split second, stopping to avoid running off the building. He readjusted, and then Icarus was dodging faster. Tommy couldn’t focus his eyes enough to even guess what was happening. 

“Like I said,” Icarus started, speaking to what seemed like thin air. “I can see you.”

He whirled around and threw a punch over his left shoulder. It connected. Speedrunner stumbled back, wiping his lip. Icarus opened his palms by his side.

“You’re such an asshole,” Speedrunner spat. “One punch is nothing to brag about.”

“I’m sure you prefer running face-first into Fortress’ walls, you pain freak.” Icarus closed his fists. “But I do hope I can be satisfactory in his absence.” 

Speedrunner disappeared again, this time leaving a streak of green in his wake. Tommy’s eyes could trace him this time. The trail was great for theatrics on camera, but in a fight, it meant the hero was slowing. 

Icarus didn’t have to try as hard to dodge, and he threw multiple punches. Almost all of them landed. Speedrunner didn’t stop moving. 

A shadow against the dark sky caught Tommy’s attention. Hothead let out a yelp, but the two on the other rooftop were too distracted to notice. Tommy watched him get carried into the sky by a cloaked figure.

Icarus landed another hit.

Speedrunner paused. His lip was split and his chest heaved. He drew in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. It looked like something Tommy’s uncle used to do when he was stressed. Once he was finished, a determined look crossed his face. Icarus took a step back and it hit him.

Speedrunner was calming himself down. 

The next time he disappeared, Icarus was visibly more concerned. If the anger wasn’t there, he couldn’t amplify it. He also definitely couldn’t provoke the hero while he was dodging an attack every millisecond. Tommy was gaping at how long his mentor was holding up against the top hero. 

Icarus grunted quickly, barely audible. His hand quickly hovered over his gut, and Tommy realized he’d gotten hit. There was no time to dwell on it, because Speedrunner was ruthless in his attacks. His fighting style was quick, precise, and he used his power to his advantage.

Speedrunner was nearly impossible for untrained eyes to see when he was moving. He would quite literally run circles around his opponents in an attempt to disorient them. Once he decided they were thoroughly confused, he would strike. Obviously the strategy had to change depending on the villain, but Tommy knew the basic gist. 

And now his mentor was on the receiving end.

Icarus tanked a few more hits before he started to stumble. Tommy bit his lip, silently rooting for him. Someone cleared their throat behind him and he whirled around. His eyes widened. 

The Devil wasn’t nearly as ridiculous looking as Speedrunner up close.

The black of his costume seemed to sway if Tommy stared too long, made to help him blend into the shadows better. Not that he particularly needed help, given his power. Maybe that’s why Tommy didn’t hear him approaching.

“Uh,” the boy stammered. “Hey.”

“Hey,” the hero grumbled. “You know this area is off-limits, right?”

Tommy didn’t like his tone.

“No, actually,” he snapped back. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, it is.” 

Holy fuck this guy was awkward. 

“Okay,” Tommy said. He wanted to go back to watching Icarus. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

The Devil frowned. “Seriously, you need to leave. Icarus and Hothead are both very dangerous criminals.”

“I know,” Tommy sighed exasperatedly. “I’ll be fine.”

He spared the rooftop fight a quick glance. Icarus was intensely focused on dodging. He seemed fine, but his nose was bleeding. Tommy wouldn’t be saved by his mentor any time soon. He needed to get out of this himself.

“You’re not very good at taking care of citizens, you know,” he commented. The Devil scoffed. “You’re kinda rude.”

“I’m just doing my job,” the hero said.

“And it’s a shit job at that,” Tommy agreed. “I think I understand why you usually let your buddy Speedrunner handle the evacuation nonsense.”

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault your mom let you stay out past curfew,” the hero retorted. Tommy would make him eat those words.

“My mother’s dead.” 

The Devil hesitated, but said, “Your dad, then.”

“He’s dead too.” Tommy bit back a smirk. The orphan card was unbeatable, and the uncomfortable expression on the hero’s face was proof. “You’re insensitive and rude. The reddit hate posts were right about you.”

“I don’t have time for this,” the Devil blurted. “Look, I’m sure you think it’d be really cool to watch this fight from up close, but you can literally just watch it on TV later. I’m taking you out of the danger zone.”

Tommy didn’t have time to process anything before the hero grabbed his shoulder. The world melted around them, and the sky was swallowed by darkness. There was nothing for a moment, and a beat later, everything rushed back. It was like someone had poured cold water over his head.

He was standing next to the Devil on a roof. He had definitely not been on a roof before.

The Devil’s power was called shadow travel or something. He could move through the shadows at an increased pace. As long as you didn’t shine a flashlight at him, it was a pretty neat power. 

Unless you were the secret apprentice of a supervillain who was trying to watch a fight for learning purposes and a superhero just kidnapped you. Tommy didn’t know where he was, nor how to get home from there. 

“You’ll be safe now,” was all the Devil said. He disappeared too quickly for the kid to get a word in. Tommy crossed his arms, deciding that he hated heroes. 

Unfortunately, the universe was still not on his side. Whatever factor had motivated the Devil to drop him on this particular roof had not accounted for how he would get down. There were no accessible fire escapes, or doors leading inside. Tommy was officially stranded. 

Well fuck.

Chapter Text

Tommy waited on that stupid roof for fifteen minutes before someone finally found him. 

He was bored the entire time. The people on the sidewalks below were too caught up in their own worlds to look up. He truly considered jumping to the fire escape of the building next to him, but it looked rusty, and he couldn’t remember if his tetanus shots were up to date.

Somewhere in the city, Tommy’s mentor was having the time of his life beating the shit out of a hero. He wanted to be there. He wanted to watch that. Icarus might’ve been losing ground when he left, but he was nothing if not unpredictable.

It was Midnight who found him after those painful fifteen minutes. 

His large shadowy wings sent gusts of air out as he gently landed. His veil and large hat hid his identity, but under there was a friend. It was hard to picture Phil as a supervillain, so his legs were shaking the entire time, but Tommy had never been so glad to be terrified. 

“Hey, mate,” the veiled villain greeted. “Fancy seeing you up here.”

“Hi,” Tommy grumbled. His hair was a mess from the wind and his back was slouched from sitting on the ground for so long. “How’s Wil?”

“After I got Hothead somewhere safe, I went back and picked him up,” Midnight explained. “The Devil got involved in the fight, so we had to retreat.”

Tommy saw how that could be dangerous for Icarus alone. The apprentice would never admit it, but he worried for his mentor. 

The Devil was a bitch, and Tommy couldn’t wait for the day he could punch him in his bitch face. 

Flying with Midnight was a new sensation that absolutely nothing could’ve prepared him for. It felt like they were speeding down a road in a car with all the windows open, with only the open sky to stop you. It was awesome.

Midnight held him tightly around his torso, and with the strength of his arms alone, lifted him right off the ground. His shadow wings were large, powerful, and quite literally untouchable. Tommy’s hand fell right through when he tried. 

The villain warned him ahead of time that their flying would be rough. Tommy was certain he could handle it until the moment it started. The drawbacks of having wings made from darkness was that they couldn’t get too near light. Midnight said it was mostly sunlight that could seriously throw him off, but they swerved to avoid streetlamps too. 

If Tommy could open his mouth without screaming, he would’ve asked why they didn’t fly over the city instead of through the twisting alleys. They’d gone so far in so little time that he didn’t know where they were anymore. 

Midnight wasn’t small, and neither was the boy who dangled from his arms, yet they never crashed. His movements were sharp, fast, precise. He could likely outfly Speedrunner at some of his top speeds. It wasn’t even three minutes later that they were landing on top of the parking building where Tommy had started.

“Holy shit,” was all the apprentice could say. Midnight chuckled, and his wings folded behind him. The ground was more disorienting than the air after that experience. Tommy’s head still turned, like he just rode every single rollercoaster in a theme park at once, except they hadn’t been repaired in years, so your feet dangled and the turbulence was impossible to ignore. 

“Sorry, mate,” the villain hummed. “I know that was rough for your first flight. If there weren’t helicopters filming the fight, I could’ve been smoother.”

Tommy frowned and looked towards the direction of the original fight. Now that they were closer to it, he could see the news anchors buzzing around. It gave him a sense of closure to know he would be able to rewatch the fight on TV later.

Once he could walk without toppling over, which was made extra difficult because he still ached from Niki’s torture earlier, they stumbled towards Wil’s car. The man in question waited for them, dressed in civilian clothing.

“Tommy,” Wilbur shouted as he noticed them, but his voice was hoarse. Tommy hesitated and his mentor grabbed his shoulders. “I was so fucking worried about you. What did that bastard do?”

“Never mind me, man,” Tommy said. “What happened to you?”

“He’s fine, Wil,” Midnight stepped in. His voice changer had been switched off, and he pulled his giant hat from his head. There was a crease in Phil’s brow. “The Devil moved him to a roof without checking if he could get down. Nothing bad.”

“He’s really shit at civilian clean-up,” Tommy teased, but no one laughed. Wilbur was clutching his side, and he would obviously have some bruises across his face later. “What did I miss, exactly?”

Phil eyed his son and sighed, “While he was distracted fighting off the Devil, Speedrunner got him in the ribs. If I had to guess, they’re broken.”

Wilbur hung his head, but he looked more pissed than anything. Tommy sucked in a breath, “Oh.”

For some reason, the idea of Icarus losing didn’t occur to him. The guy was so unbelievably strong on television, but until that point, Tommy realized he never really accounted for how much damage Speedrunner could do. Supervillain or not, Wil’s ribs had been broken.

“It’s nothing I need to go to Boomer about,” the brunette grumbled. “Phil offered to drive you while I recover.”

“And I’ll be driving you both home tonight,” Phil said. “Hop in the car. I don’t think either of you feel up to a flight.”

Tommy slid in the back seat so Wilbur could take the passenger one. Phil was a much better driver, meaning he stopped at stop signs and didn’t go forty miles over the speed limit. For some reason, Tommy’s uncle came to mind.

Phil saw him staring through the mirror and smiled. His uncle disappeared. This was different, like all the times Wilbur said he was proud of Tommy. It felt too kind to be done by someone he barely knew. 

He was dropped off not too long after. Tubbo wasn’t home, despite the hour. Tommy shrugged it off, figuring his date was running overtime. He switched on the news, recording the fight he’d witnessed earlier. To his surprise, there was another one raging on the other side of town.

Mecha and Blink, according to the reporter, were on the east side of town. They were battling a hero, though through all the smoke, it was impossible to tell who. It wasn’t very interesting. Occasionally, a robot would fly into sight, and then everything would return to the inside of the smokescreen. 

Still, Tommy recorded it. It ended when Blink was seen teleporting to a nearby roof outside of the smoke. Mecha was spotted running into an alleyway, and his white-suited partner teleported to catch up with him. 

By the time the fog cleared, the hero they were fighting was also gone. In their place, dozens of Mecha’s signature tiny robots sat destroyed on the ground. Tommy cringed, a byproduct of living with Tubbo for ages.

His roommate would be inconsolable if those were his inventions. Once, Tubbo’s homemade toy car accidentally drove into the road and was smashed by a semi-truck. It took a week for Tommy to get him to eat something other than ramen.

“So much coding,” Tubbo would groan. “How was I supposed to know the heat sensors would pick up people across the street?”

Tommy was so glad Mecha and Tubbo were different people. He hoped for Blink’s sake that the vigilante didn’t care quite as much about his robots. Tommy decided to make dinner, just a simple frozen pizza they had in their fridge. 

Tubbo came home shortly after. He threw down the bag he always tried to hide from Tommy and collapsed on their sofa. 

“Rough day at work?” The blonde boy peeked his head around the corner. He received a grunt in response. Tommy clicked his tongue. “I’m making us pizza. It’ll be about ten minutes.”

His roommate rolled off the couch and dragged his feet to his room. “It’s all yours,” Tubbo said. “I’m not hungry.”

The door slammed shut and Tommy rolled his eyes. His date night must’ve gone wrong, and if that was the case, Tubbo would need space. Tommy understood, but his eyes drifted to the abandoned bag.

He wasn’t going to sneak a look. He was Tubbo’s trusted friend. He would never break that trust. 

He did consider it though.

Before he could consider too deeply, his phone alarm went off. He cut his pizza and ate three slices while it was still warm. Tommy left the rest in the fridge for his heartbroken roommate to scrounge up in the morning. 

Finally content to sit down, he switched the channel back to Icarus’ fight with Speedrunner. Tommy scrolled reddit during the parts he’d already seen and experienced a new kind of second-hand embarrassment. 

One post he found was raving about how attractive Icarus was. Disgusting. 

Another had clipped the part in the fight where Icarus had thrown his first punch. Tommy agreed that it was impressive, but the heart emojis made him gag. 

The overall theme was that Icarus was attractive, and Speedrunner was unimpressive. Tommy decided he would not be indulging in Icarus’ subreddit ever again. Speedrunner hate posts were more his style.

And there were plenty. 

They insulted his costume, hair, lack of cool quips, just about everything. During Tommy’s fanboy days, posts like that were rare. Speedrunner was a new hero, with bright colors and a mysterious past, but it was hard to keep your interest in someone who could end a fight in a millisecond.

Watching him fight Icarus was like watching a sculptor try to work with sand. Icarus would throw out a quip, and it would bounce right off. Speedrunner’s skull was probably thicker than Tommy’s, except he couldn’t use resistance as an excuse. 

Tommy glanced up at the television to find the part that he’d missed. Speedrunner had just calmed down, which meant that the Devil would’ve been scaring the shit out of him in some alley off camera. Tommy sat up straighter, intent on seeing everything.

Icarus dodged more furiously, and Speedrunner went faster, until finally a hit landed. The camera’s sound system wasn’t strong enough to pick up the grunts that left his mentor’s mouth. To the untrained eye, Icarus’ hand dropping to his side might’ve been a casual movement, but Tommy knew better. 

That was as far as Tommy had seen. The rest was as big of a surprise to him as it would’ve been to the people watching live.

“Is that all you’ve got,” Icarus shouted. His voice was almost drowned out by the sound of the helicopter's whirring and the wind that kicked up around Speedrunner.

Another punch landed.

Icarus ducked under something unseen to the naked eye. Tommy wondered how he could keep up with someone fighting at ten times his speed. His mentor’s nose started to bleed. He remembered glancing up and seeing that while talking to the Devil.

“Come on, Wil,” he whispered to the television, quiet enough that Tubbo couldn’t hear. “Beat his ass.”

Icarus didn’t listen. He took another three hits, but his dodging didn’t falter. His stamina was impressive, and Tommy could only recall how winded he’d been after running two laps. He wouldn’t last against a hero.

Finally, Speedrunner paused. His lip was still split, and his chest still heaved, but he smiled now. Tommy didn’t like his smile.

“What’s the matter, Icarus,” the hero hissed. “Not so tough without your partners, are you?”

Tommy watched in anticipation as his mentor turned his palms towards his opponent, feigning a surrender position. Speedrunner relaxed ever-so-slightly. His mistake.

“Alright,” Icarus said. “You win, Speedy. I’m no match for Pogtopia’s number one hero.”

His apprentice frowned. 

“I’m not falling for any stupid tricks,” Speedrunner spat. “Don’t pretend like you’d ever give up that easily.”

“Oh, but I would.” Icarus took one step forward. The hero tensed. “You’re so strong, and so unbeatable. Fortress is the only match for you, but he’s not here.”

Behind him, the shadows seemed to shift. Tommy leaned forwards.

“Besides.” Icarus smiled. “I’m outnumbered.”

He whirled around and kicked the Devil in the face. 

“You’ll regret that,” the new challenger laughed. 

Their combat was much easier to watch. It was still intense, and far quicker than anything Tommy could comprehend, but it wasn’t a blur. 

“As you can see,” the news reporter chimed in. Tommy startled at her pitchy voice interrupting the intense broadcast. “The Devil has joined in the battle!”

“No fucking shit,” Tommy grumbled, though he honestly didn’t care. He knew it was her job to spectate and make it more interesting. Without her and her camera, this would just be three guys duking it out on some poor sod’s roof. 

He considered apologizing, but she couldn’t hear him.

“Too scared to fight me alone,” Icarus shouted back to Speedrunner. “And here I was thinking you were finally tough enough to do it yourself.”

His words had an adverse effect. The Devil kicked out more harshly, and Tommy realized that he was the one getting upset over Icarus not addressing him. The blonde boy recalled Wilbur saying that the Devil was so insane that he didn’t need to use his powers. 

Still, he watched as Icarus raised his palms. If Tommy had noticed the Devil being slightly irritated before, now he was fuming. He melted back into the shadows and popped up behind the villain. His attempted hit didn’t land, and his feet were kicked out from under him.

The Devil hit the ground and went right through, phasing into the shadows. Tommy gripped the edge of his seat. Icarus seemed to always know exactly where he would reappear, though his apprentice couldn’t find the pattern. 

Meanwhile, Speedrunner had turned his back to the camera, and was hunched over. It was something he frequently did in battle, and he’d been asked about it in interviews a couple times.

“Running can get pretty tiring,” the hero had said. “I keep little sticks of beef jerky in my pocket so I can eat in my downtime.”

Tommy thought it was weird, but beef jerky sales jumped after that. 

Once Speedrunner turned back to the camera, he shoved something in his suit’s pocket and rolled his shoulders. Icarus paid him no mind, a huge grin on his face as he continuously landed blow after blow on the Devil. Tommy took note of how the ignored hero adjusted his stance and shook out his hands.

He was about to run.

Tommy bit back a noise when it finally happened. 

It was quick, as most things with Speedrunner tended to be. One moment, Icarus was fighting with no issues, and the next, he was down. His hands cradled his side and Speedrunner stood over him with a smirk.

“Get up,” Tommy urged. 

Icarus listened. 

He rose slowly, shakily, and rolled to the side when the heroes attempted to knock him back down. He didn’t jump into the battle again, or make any witty commentary. He simply extended one hand toward the sky. Speedrunner wasn’t quick enough to realize what was happening.

Midnight swooped in, wings black enough to blot out the sun, and Icarus was gone.

The broadcast switched back to the news anchors, summarizing what the audience had just watched. Tommy muted them and fell against the couch. 

He knew what happened after that. Midnight would carry Icarus to his car, and panic when Tommy didn’t follow them. The veiled villain would take to the sky again and search for several minutes until he found him on top of that shitty roof.

He let his mind wander.

Why had Wil stopped the car to begin with? Why had he jumped out to fight Speedrunner in the first place? Was it because of Hothead?

Tommy shivered at the thought of the fiery villain, mind unwillingly going to the day he was almost blown up by a car. Wilbur had saved him then too, and again after he was shot.

Why did it seem like the villains were the ones saving people recently?

Tommy was losing it. He needed to watch Icarus rob a bank, or Fortress hold government buildings hostage. He needed to remind himself that they were villains. They were cruel, terrifying, unforgiving.

And he was going to become like them.

He turned the television off and went to bed, but he didn’t sleep. Tommy typed into the search bar of youtube, and spent two hours watching whatever bullshit he could find. Icarus standing atop a building he set on fire, Fortress putting up walls to prevent reinforcements from joining the fight, and Midnight swooping armed opponents into the sky and out of sight.

“They’re evil,” Tommy whispered. 

But he didn’t believe it.

Instead of seeing horrible people, he saw his friends. Wilbur who bought him ice cream, Techno who bantered with him, and Phil who ruffled his hair whenever he visited their company. For a reason Tommy couldn’t explain, he felt like whatever evil actions they’d done could be excused in one way or another.

All these videos were taken from sources controlled by heroes. Midnight probably only scooped up those armed enemies so that they wouldn’t shoot his kids. Fortress only set up those walls because they were too tired to fight off another small army. Icarus would’ve checked to make sure no one was trapped in the building before setting it alight.

They were evil, but only to strangers.

Tommy fell asleep that night with his phone still open on youtube.

~~~~

“What do you mean? People don’t just disappear, Sapnap,” a man with white hair scolded. Another man with dark hair and a worried look, Sapnap, paced in front of him. “Are you sure he couldn’t get down?”

“Yes!” Sapnap threw his arms into the air. “Dream, come on. You know I’m not stupid.”

Dream pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “After seeing you fight Icarus, I’m not so sure anymore.”

Sapnap paused his pacing to glare. “I can’t help it! Something about the guy makes me want to kick a wall.”

He hugged himself, almost shivering despite the warmth of the training room. The mats that lined the floors cushioned his feet, but he wanted to sit. Looking back on his fights with Icarus always brought about these weird feelings; almost like he wasn’t himself.

Dream leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs like this was just another weakness Sapnap needed to overcome. His green eyes were cold. Underneath them, Sapnap could barely catch hints of sympathy. 

“He does get under your skin,” Dream hummed. “Doesn’t he?”

“Don’t act like he didn’t get to you too,” Sapnap snapped. Pity from his friend sickened him. “I saw how you slowed.”

Dream sneered. “It was his power. I’m sure of it. He put the idea in my head and forced me to slow down. I wish we could pin-point his mind control.”

“So why am I the one being scolded,” Sapnap huffed. 

“Because I didn’t leave that fight in need of healing,” Dream said. The dark-haired man flinched. “George was so pissed to see your nose broken.”

Sapnap started, “Is he still-”

“Sleeping?” Dream nodded. “Obviously.”

Quiet settled over them. On the other side of the room, assorted heroes sparred. They were supposed to be doing that too, but this was the only time in their schedules that they could talk. It wasn’t like they really needed practice either.

“I put that kid on that roof so that I could come back and escort him home,” Sapnap said, switching the topic. “I wanted to talk to his guardians.”

“He probably had a birth power that allowed him to get down safely,” Dream stated. “There are plenty of people with slow-falling or whatever. If you dwell on it, it’ll eat you alive.”

The training room doors slid open and they glanced over. Dream smiled and rose from his chair. Sapnap crossed his arms, but he wasn’t unhappy to see the hero that entered. “Well,” the dark-haired man laughed. “Look who decided to show up.”

“Just the guy we wanted to see,” Dream cheered. “Where have you been, Quackity?”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Quackity said, patting both of them on the shoulders. His wild grin revealed one gold tooth. “I’ve got great news.”

Chapter Text

Tubbo didn’t want to get out of bed. His boss let him call out of work, but he would’ve skipped whether he was allowed to or not. His pillow was cold and his blankets were warm. 

His stomach could complain as much as it wanted to, but he wasn’t moving. That didn’t mean he was sleeping though. How could he? He’d witnessed dozens of his beloved robots being crushed by some stupid hero. It wasn’t exactly inspirational.

Tubbo adored building, of course, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend another week remaking what had been lost. He should be zipping around the city on patrol, not locking himself in his warehouse to work. 

Tommy would be worried about him. He was a good roommate, and a better friend. If he hadn’t already left to go to Ender-Ice, Tubbo was certain he would be fretting over him. Tommy was someone he trusted with his life. He hated lying to him about being Mecha.

Wait.

Tubbo scrambled out of bed, ignoring the way his legs protested the sudden movement. He rushed into the other room and almost collapsed from relief at the sight of his backpack exactly where he left it, untouched.

He trusted Tommy. His best friend wouldn’t snoop. Tubbo regretted doubting him. 

Tubbo also regretted standing up. If his hunger pains were bad before, now they were eating him alive. He thanked Tommy even more when he found leftover pizza in the fridge. 

What would he do without his best friend? 

Truthfully, he didn’t know. Tubbo was completely dependent on him. Their apartment was courtesy of Tommy’s uncle and they never worried about groceries because of his allowance. It left them with enough pocket change to indulge in whatever they wanted that month; Tubbo usually got machine parts, and Tommy was making his dream PC set-up. 

While munching on his cold pizza, he wandered to his backpack. He hadn’t noticed a yellow sticky note sitting on top of it. Tommy’s messy hand-writing was hard to mistake:

Dear Tubbo,

     I didn’t look in your bag. I just want you to know that you don’t have to hide anything from me. I’ll always accept you for you, big guy. Hope your next date goes better!

-Tommy

Tubbo deadpanned. He re-read it multiple times to make sure it wasn’t just his dyslexia confusing things. It wasn’t. Tommy really wrote that.

“What the fuck does he mean by date,” Tubbo muttered aloud. 

It hit him all at once.

When he finally gained the courage to reveal his identity to Tommy, he was so dead.

Blink would crack up if he heard. 

No.

The urge to throw on his jacket and go searching for his vigilante companion was overwhelming, but he knew better. After their fight with a certain hero the previous night, he didn’t think he’d be able to face him. 

It had been one day since everything went wrong.

~~~~

The patrol had been going normally. Mecha was out later because Tommy would still be at the gym, and Blink was chattering next to him. They were hanging out in the middle of an empty street. 

Mecha kept checking his watch, waiting for his bots to tell him about a mugging or a robbery, but nothing was coming through. It wasn’t necessarily bad. They had slow days from time to time. 

He should’ve known better.

At the first sight of a playing card landing in the street, Mecha latched onto Blink’s arm and called his bots. Smoke billowed around them as it had the last time, and Ace emerged from the clouds, dramatic as always.

“Since you are so utterly impossible to talk to in private,” the hero began, voice booming. “I’m forced to confront you here.”

“What the fuck do you want,” Mecha barked.

The shorter vigilante felt only rage at the sight of him. Previously, there’d been fear, but he’d been alone with his thoughts far too often. Ace was just a hero, cowardly and egotistical. Mecha fought against bastards like him every day.

Ace tilted his head. “You forgot so quickly? Pity.”

“Why are you back,” Blink stammered. His partner glanced up at him, wary of his tone. “You wanted us to join your side, right?”

Ace stretched, his gold tooth shining with his smile. Blink tensed, and Mecha prayed his bots would come faster. What was taking so long? Surely a few of them were close, right?

“That’s exactly what I’m asking,” the hero teased. He was far too casual. “I want you to join me. You can help us make a real difference around here.”

 Mecha laughed, “Is this what you call a difference? Disturbing two vigilantes while they’re on patrol in the part of town you conveniently overlook? Don’t be absurd. We’ll never join you.”

He looked up at Blink for support, but his partner was frozen and silent.

“I’m not saying you have to give up on the east completely.” Ace shrugged. “I know the agency’s been looking to find people to post here. We’re just so understaffed.”

Bullshit.

Mecha opened his mouth to speak, but Blink tugged on his sleeve. He glanced over. Through both of their masks, it was impossible to tell what he wanted. His companion’s eyebrows were creased, so it definitely wasn’t good.

“What,” Mecha whispered. “We’re kinda in the middle of something here.”

They both glanced towards the hero. “Right,” Ace cleared his throat. “I’ll give you a moment to discuss.”

He turned his back on the pair, leaving himself completely open for attack. Mecha frowned. “Mech,” Blink whispered. “Are you sure we should turn him down?”

“What,” Mecha scoffed. “The fuck do you mean?”

The taller vigilante fidgeted with the hem of his suit. “I’ve given it some thought and it’s a great offer. We wouldn’t have to give up on the east and we might finally be able to have the same perks that heroes have.”

Never before had the pair disagreed on a matter so important. Mecha was stunned. Blink should’ve understood that Ace wasn’t someone to be given a second thought. He was a threat, an obstacle, nothing more.

Blink spoke anyway, “I don’t think we should be so quick to turn this away.”

“No,” Mecha hissed. His companion flinched, and he felt something stab at his heart. “This guy is sketchy. We can’t trust him.”

“Why?” The shorter vigilante gaped at Blink’s question. “Why is your mind already made up?”

“I think you’ve had enough time to talk,” Ace cut in, turning back around. There was something sinister about him. “Since you’re unable to make a decision, I’ll help you out.”

He snapped his finger. Dozens of bots entered the smokescreen, surrounding them. They were the very same ones that Mecha had been desperately awaiting since the start of their interaction. Red lights blinked on all of them, signaling that they were on attack mode.

He hadn’t turned that setting on.

Mecha’s blood ran cold.

“Your creations were quite impressive, but you’re still an amateur,” Ace hummed. “All I had to do was steal one and modify it a little. Your robotic goons work for me now.”

His machines were his babies. They were an extension of his soul. With each drone made, he poured a little more detail into them. Mecha released them into the city every day for patrol, and he put the utmost care into making sure they all returned. 

“You bastard ,” Mecha growled.

He squeezed Blink’s arm, but he found no comfort there. “I’ll make a deal with you,” Ace said. “You become heroes, or I arrest you. Does that sound fair?”

Mecha searched his opponent for any hint of a bluff, for any sliver of weakness. He found none. Ace was serious. They had to make a choice: fight or surrender. Blink still didn’t move. What was wrong with him?

“I guess you need motivation,” the hero yawned. He raised one hand. “Bots. Arrest them.”

The drones descended on them at once. They used their metallic arms to grip onto Mecha’s jacket. They yanked and shoved, almost painfully. There was no way any of his inventions had the genuine strength to take them on, but as they kept coming, he figured out their plot. 

One bot couldn’t do anything, but if enough of them latched on at a time, their opponent could be rendered immoble. It was cruel and genius. Ace was likely relying on the fact that Mecha would have an emotional attachment. How fitting for the most cunning hero.

Mecha had no choice but to fight. One grabbed the back of his jacket and he swatted it out of the air. Even as he crushed it underneath his foot, his mind was reeling. He pictured punching Ace right in his stupid face. 

Blink woke up from his trance sometime in the middle of the chaos. Quite a few of the bots had taken advantage of his spaced-out mind, latching onto him. His legs and arms were all pinned to his side. He tried teleporting, but they came with him.

He was thrown off balance by another drone shoving at his back, grunting as he hit the ground. Still, they piled on him. Mecha couldn’t stand by and watch.

He smashed the ones on Blink’s arm, but with the steady flow of incoming drones, it wasn’t enough. Their inventor picked up one of the more mildly intact drone corpses and used it as a blunt-force weapon. It was far more effective. 

“What are you doing,” Blink had the gall to ask. “Doesn’t this hurt you?”

“Yes, immensely,” was all Mecha could say. “But I don’t want you to get arrested.”

All the while, Ace watched.

Mecha could hear helicopters. The press had finally arrived. Ace’s smokescreen kept them out of sight, but a sense of pressure was added to the situation. Everything they did from that point on would be televised. 

Blink finally was able to free himself from the remainder of the drones with Mecha’s help. Their combined efforts mowed through the lines a lot faster. Wielding the dead body of his child as a weapon, Mecha fought on.

“I’ll call them off if you join me,” Ace said. 

Mecha glared at him. He hated the hero with every fiber of his being. He loved his inventions, but their scraps decorated the road around him. How was this supposed to convince anyone to join them?

More drones came, and more drones died. 

Endless, repetitive, soul-crushing deaths.

“Call them off.”

Mecha paused, turning slowly. Blink’s hands had curled into fists, and he was staring at his partner. Surely that wasn’t truly what he’d just said? Hadn’t they discussed this? 

They weren’t supposed to disagree on anything. They were the perfect duo, never one without the other. Mecha didn’t want this. Not on these terms. So what was happening?

Ace whistled sharply and the bots fell from the sky, disabled. Blink took a step forward. 

“I’ll join you,” he said.

Mecha’s world stopped.

Ace was smiling. Hiding behind his mask, Blink was unreadable. He wasn’t looking at his partner anymore. Mecha silently begged for eye contact again. He needed to know that this wasn’t real, that Blink wasn’t siding with an enemy.

“Excellent!” Ace raised his arms in a mild-mannered cheer. “I’ll find you again in the future to discuss your licensing process, but for now, I think it’d be best for you two to hide. This smokescreen won’t last forever and there are quite a few reporters watching.”

Mecha didn’t care what the hero was saying. He couldn’t be there anymore. He turned on his heels and ran. The smoke faded into the background as he escaped into an alleyway off to the side. He didn’t look back.

He ran and ran until his feet ached and his chest heaved. Mecha stopped right outside the doors of his warehouse. It was his safe place, his haven up until then. He couldn’t bring himself to go in. He didn’t want to see any more machines that day. 

The vigilante turned and slid down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

“Mecha!”

He hated how quickly Blink could catch up to him. 

“Stay away,” he shouted, but it didn’t matter. 

His companion teleported directly in front of him, kneeling down. Mecha swatted at him with the chunk of robot he still clutched onto. It did nothing. 

“Mech,” Blink started softly. “Listen.”

“Why would you do that?” Blink hung his head, as if ready to accept the scolding. Mecha wasn’t ready to be mad at him. “Why would you throw your future into their hands?”

There was a beat of silence, an uncomfortable thrum of time where neither could bring themselves to speak. Blink reached up to his ear and pressed a button. Mecha knew all too well what it did. He had designed it after all.

“Mech, please,” Blink pleaded. Without the voice-changer on, Mecha could feel his heart shattering. This was the most sincere thing his companion was capable of, a subtle reminder that he trusted Mecha with a clue to his identity. “Hear me out.”

“Shut up,” was all he could utter.

“Isn’t this what we wanted?” Blink sought desperately for anything that could win over Mecha. “We want to help people, and this is the best way to do that. The heroes can give us proper training, supplies, everything. Don’t you realize that?”

Mecha shoved him. Hard.

“That’s not a benefit, Blink.” He fought to keep the emotions out of his voice. “I can give you all of that and more. Were my upgrades not good enough for you? 

“No! That’s not what I meant,” Blink stuttered, trailing off.

“Except that is what you meant,” Mecha huffed. “Did you even stop to think about why a sketchy guy like Ace is the one recruiting new heroes?”

Blink tensed. 

“Obviously not.” The shorter vigilante wasn’t sure where all the aggression was coming from, but he needed to let it out one way or another. 

Ace wasn’t known for his friendly disposition, but he could break your spirit until you had no choice but to agree with him. That’s what he’d just done. Nothing good came from a recruitment by that man. 

“Do you remember what he said during our last meeting?” Mecha couldn’t stop talking. He wanted to stop. “He said that he thinks the Corporation is planning something huge.”

Blink looked away.

“Do you hear me,” Mecha prodded. “That’s the most dangerous villain group in Pogtopia. If the professional heroes are trying to track down a couple of measly vigilantes, they must be really fucking desperate.”

No response.

“Please,” Mecha whispered. “It’s dangerous.”

They were young, untrained vigilantes. They were far from heroes worthy enough to fight huge supervillains. Blink could teleport, sure, but would that protect him from Midnight’s killer tracking? Would that stop Icarus’ mind control? Would that save him from Fortress’ bloodlust?

He paused. He waited. He needed his partner to laugh this off. He needed Blink to say this was one big practical joke. He needed them to hug and go back to patrol. 

“I’m sorry,” Blink croaked.

And that was it. 

That day was real and nothing could change its course. 

Mecha stared at the ground as Blink stood and began to walk away. The footsteps hesitated, and he glanced up for a moment. The tall vigilante turned and brought up his hand. He pulled his sunglasses off, revealing his eyes for the first time.

Hazel.

Mecha couldn’t breathe. This was more than just a voice. This was a new secret that he was sharing. There were hints of sadness behind his solid gaze. Mecha couldn’t handle another burden, but he stared anyway.

“Why are you doing this,” he whispered. “Doesn’t it hurt you?”

“Yes, immensely,” Blink replied. “But I didn’t want to watch you suffer anymore.”

Mecha’s heart shattered. He did nothing to stop Blink as he teleported away. 

~~~~

Tommy was having a great day.

He hadn’t been confident in his luck recently, but today was really turning things around. He’d started by receiving a text from his roommate thanking him for the pizza. He hoped that Tubbo was feeling better.

Bad dates were the worst.

Not that Tommy had ever been on a bad date. To be completely honest, he’d never been on a date at all. He would argue that little detail further reinforced his statement about never having a bad date. Couldn’t have an unpleasant time if you don’t have a time at all.

It almost sounded philosophical enough to be something his mother would say, but she was dead, so she wasn’t saying much.

Ender-Ice had barely any customers, and Tommy was rocking out behind the cash register. Ranboo wasn’t there that day, having called in sick at the start of the shift, so that left the cashier completely in charge of the shop’s playlist.

He panicked every time someone walked in, and he had to act like he wasn’t completely enjoying the latest pop songs, but it was worth it. It was a helpful distraction from the fact that both his best friend and his boss weren’t feeling well. Tommy relied on them to keep his days interesting, and they were out of order.

Phil drove him home that day, just as he had driven him to work. It was strange not to see Wil behind the steering wheel. Tommy couldn’t sit still in the car. He was too worried for his mentor, who had at some point grown into a friend.

“Wilbur’s just got to rest for a bit,” Phil had explained away his fears. “I’d give him three days before the boredom gets to him and he goes back to work.”

“By work you don’t mean Icarus stuff, right?” Tommy didn’t want to sit in front of the TV wondering if his friend might live through a battle. He didn’t find enjoyment in watching the news anymore. 

The older man shrugged. “That’s up to him. I mostly mean he’ll be driving you again, but if he feels the need to patrol, he knows his limits.”

“Patrol,” Tommy echoed. “What is there for supervillains to patrol?”

Phil chuckled, “We like to keep watch over the places we consider our territory. We don’t let minor thieves rob the businesses we’ve been watching for months and stuff like that. I joke that we’re better heroes than villains.”

“Where would you be patrolling right now?” 

“We’re watching a couple scenes,” Phil said. “We’re not quite sure what the best place is for you to debut.”

Tommy choked, “Fucking pardon?”

Phil broke into hearty laughter. Tommy’s cheeks burned. He kept forgetting that he would have to publicize his existence at some point. The very idea of being able to debut was insane. That was reserved for heroes, villains, and extremely important people. Tommy wasn’t there yet. At least, not in his eyes.

He hadn’t even entertained the thought, truthfully, of a debut. 

Tommy expected to only begin thinking about it once he’d undergone proper training. Phil informed him that was not the case. Whereas heroes could jump in to interfere with the nearest bank robbery as their debut, villains had to plan shit.

“Since we would want you to catch the public’s eye, we have to choose something that would distinctly make you shine,” Phil said. “Techno broke into the city’s court building and stole a bunch of confidential information, now he’s known for his government disturbances.”

“I remember watching some old news clips about that,” Tommy replied. 

“It usually defines how people perceive you as a villain,” Phil carried on. “Since the public has nothing else to judge you on, it’ll hang over your head for a while.”

Though it wasn’t said, the question was obvious. Tommy tried to brainstorm.

What could he do to make an impression?

“What did Wilbur do?” He found himself asking almost subconsciously. 

Phil smiled wistfully, as if recalling a wholesome memory. “He hijacked a passenger train and robbed everyone in the first class cars.”

What the fuck.

There was something supremely wrong about hearing a parent talk about their child’s criminal acts with such fondness. 

“That’s… great,” Tommy replied gingerly. 

In all honesty, it did give him more insight on his own situation. Wil robbed a train, but he wasn’t known for that in the same way Techno was known for his government tomfoolery. Phil told him that it would help the public discern him in the beginning, but it didn’t need to define him.

Somehow, that helped a lot.

“I’d be fine with anything, I think,” Tommy answered. He didn’t need to be flashy at the start. He wasn’t exactly anything special in terms of power, so it wasn’t like he wanted to show it off. “Whatever you think is best, I’ll do it.”

Phil shot him a look. “Wil knew you’d say that.”

For some reason, Tommy felt like that wasn’t a good thing.

“You deserve something as cool as you, mate,” Phil sighed. “You’re not just some froyo cashier.”

Except he was, but he didn’t want to go against the older man.

The car ride was silent from then on. Tommy played it off by checking his phone. Once he was home, he was pleased to see Tubbo doing better. Better was, of course, subjective. Seeing his roommate sitting face-down at the kitchen table was far more than he’d expected. 

“Hey,” he greeted softly. Tubbo grunted his response. “No work today?”

Nothing. Tommy sighed. 

“I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but if you want to talk to me,” he started sheepishly. “I’m always here for you.”

There was a beat where the air felt heavy, and Tubbo lifted his head. His eyes had giant bags under them, and his hair was a mess. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. 

He stood, slapped one hand against Tommy’s shoulder in acceptance, and lumbered towards a certain cabinet. Tubbo opened it, revealing his past inventions, and smiled weakly. Tommy didn’t disturb him again, even as he locked himself back in his room, and the sound of a power drill could be heard through the door.

Tommy settled in front of the television and switched it to the news. It was a motion he’d done hundreds of times before, and that he did now without a second thought. The anchor was wearing bright colors and a large smile.

“Today, we’re celebrating a momentous occasion,” the reporter declared. A picture flashed onto the screen, and Tommy sat up. “The official announcement has just been made. Everyone please welcome our brand new hero!”

“Blink.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur recovered in three days out of sheer spite. The broken ribs kept him from making any big movements, but he wasn’t a second late. To say Tommy was glad to see Wil would be an understatement. If you asked him, he would say it was only because Wilbur bought him ice-cream after his lessons with Niki. 

Speaking of his personal trainer, she had canceled their session for the day. Wil didn’t give a reason, but Tommy was happy to have the afternoon to himself. He took the opportunity to do laundry. Tubbo was still too depressed to leave the house for anything other than work.

Tommy chose to make the best of it. He hadn’t seen Puffy in a while, his roommate having done most of the laundry since he got shot. Faintly, he thought about the obituary he’d seen with her listed as the only family member. He knew better than to ask about it, but the idea was there.

He needed to stay positive. Lately, everyone in his life had been dragging him down; Wilbur was sulking over his injuries, Tubbo was feeling down, and even Ranboo hadn’t been himself.

Yes, his bubbly boss had been a shell during Tommy’s shifts. He’d never seen Ranboo in such a state, dragging his feet everywhere and answering rowdy customers with half as much vigor as usual. He typically sprung at the chance to kick assholes out of his parent’s business. Tommy never thought he’d see the day where Ranboo would send a Karen off with nothing more than a coupon. 

Once, he inquired, but all he got as a response was, “Just not feeling well.”

Puffy stole him away from all the dread and gloom of the world. The second he walked through her door, she greeted him with a wide smile. “Tommy! Where have you been, man?”

“Doing cool guy shit,” Tommy answered, mimicking her joyful expression. “As usual.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Puffy closed her computer to give him her full attention. “So, how’s being an apprentice?”

He choked. 

Right. He kept forgetting that she knew about his deal with Wilbur. He just needed to tell her about the company, not about being a supervillain.

“Evil.”

Fuck.

Puffy laughed, “Yeah, I hear you! I bet Phil’s forcing you guys to do a lot of paperwork. As someone who used to work a nine-to-five, I can say that definitely sucks.”

“That’s exactly the problem, yes,” Tommy said. He distracted himself by shoving his laundry into a machine. “I am just so swamped with forging signatures.”

Puffy’s cackling eased his worries, and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in a week. The hum of the washing machines reverberated around the room, filling even the silence with a comfortable noise. 

“Shall we go grab some lunch,” she offered. Going out with Puffy felt like a memory from the past. He had so few normal people in his life anymore that he could finally appreciate the little things. “I know the perfect place.”

~~~~

Tommy was not very big on spicy food, but it seemed that was all that was on the menu at Puffy’s so-called perfect place. 

“You looked a little pale,” she explained with a mischievous grin. “I thought we might put some color into that complexion.”

The second they walked in, Tommy was hit with a wave of flavor. The room was cold, but the smell of food was like a heat of its own. There were several tables packed with people, mostly young adult men. Flat screen TVs, all showing sports games, and neon signs decorated the walls. 

“Ayup,” a voice called from across the restaurant. “Ms. Puffy! I see you’ve brought someone along this time.”

A man waltzed over to them. He was on the shorter side, with a buzz cut that made him look vaguely bald. His baggy clothes gave the illusion that he was just some lanky waiter, but with the way he held a tray of drinks in one hand, Tommy could tell there were muscles hiding there. 

“Jack!” Puffy held out a hand and the man shook it. “This is Tommy. He’s a friend.”

Tommy felt his cheeks warming at her word choice. They were friends, weren’t they? Why did that make him so happy? 

“Ayup, little guy,” Jack greeted. “I take it you want a booth, not a table?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes, please.”

The man’s pleasant smile eased Tommy’s worries. He didn’t know why he was so tense to begin with, but it melted away slowly. They took a seat in a tiny booth against the wall. Neon blue lights cast a hue over the table as Jack brought their drinks.

“You seem to know everyone,” Tommy said to Puffy once their waiter had left. “How often do you visit these places?”

“Every few days,” Puffy replied, eyes glued to the menu. “I like to support local businesses.”

“Even the ones owned by millionaires?”

Puffy shot him an amused smirk. “If you’re referring to the bar owned by your boss, then yes, even that.”

This was nice. Tommy felt good, normal. He only occasionally thought of the obituary, and the picture of Puffy mourning the unknown guy. It was fine. He wouldn’t ask. He couldn’t ask. He would never do that.

“So, got any family back home?”

Damn it.

The way Puffy stiffened made Tommy flinch. He really was becoming a villain. He tried to quickly fix his mistake, “Sorry, just small talk. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

She didn’t respond, still staring at the menu. Tommy knew she wasn’t really reading it. Her eyes were glazed over and distant. He was an awful person.

“I called my uncle the other day,” Tommy said, desperately trying to transition into a better topic. “He’s so awkward over the phone. He sounds like he’s never spoken to a kid in his life.”

Why was he so stupid? He didn’t need to know about this random guy, or why Puffy was mourning him. He knew better than most that losing family was terrible, life-changing. Tommy wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out.

“I had a son.”

Tommy’s head shot up and his eyes widened. 

A son?

No fucking way. 

Puffy wasn’t old by any means, but she was a fully-functioning adult. It wasn’t unusual for people her age to be married and settled down. Except Tommy knew for a fact she wasn’t married, and she’d never mentioned children before.

His heart stopped.

She said had .

Past tense.

His mind flew to the obituary. He remembered Puffy’s distraught picture, and how she was the only listed family member. Tommy had considered maybe a brother or a cousin, but a son?

“I adopted him when he was sixteen,” Puffy whispered. “He passed away five years ago.”

Oh. Adoption. 

How did Tommy, of all people, forget that was a thing?

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean to bring this up.”

Yes you did , a little voice in the back of his mind prodded. He ignored it.

“It’s fine. You didn’t know,” Puffy cleared her throat, sitting up taller. “Besides, it’s been so long. It was just strange to think about since you remind me of him sometimes.”

“Pardon,” Tommy stammered. “I do what now?”

Puffy laughed, a charming sound that he had missed, “He was funny, just like you. I think you would’ve gotten along really well.”

Jack interrupted them, appearing basically out of thin air with a notepad. Tommy jumped. He took one last glance at the menu, and prayed that it would be okay.

“Have you decided on what you want?” Jack waited expectantly. 

“Uh,” Tommy started. “Just the mild buffalo wings please.”

Something glinted behind Jack’s eyes, and Puffy snickered. 

“Am I missing something,” he asked, but they’d moved on. Puffy ordered a plate of fries and a glass of milk. Tommy couldn’t ignore the weirdness of it. “What the fuck?”

“You’ll understand in a minute,” was all the older woman gave him. Jack buggered off to do whatever bald bitches do, and Tommy was left in confusion. Puffy’s food came out first given its simplicity, but she didn’t touch it. She claimed it was rude to start eating before all dishes had arrived, but he could tell something was amiss.

Because even when Jack set down his plate, she still didn’t eat. 

“Go on,” she urged. “Take a bite.”

The first wing he picked up looked innocent. He glanced between his friend and the food, but he gathered nothing. Slowly, probably too slowly, he bit into the chicken. Instantly, his mouth began to buzz.

“What the fuck,” he all-but screeched. It was hot, unbelievably so. Mild wasn’t mild in the slightest. His coke was not helping. He was going to die. 

“Finish the entire plate,” Puffy said. “And I’ll let you have the milk.”

Friendship was a lie. 

Tommy squirmed in his seat, staring at the wings. Jack was a menace for doing this. Assuming that he actually had been given mild, Tommy loathed to imagine the pain of the higher levels. Puffy was smiling.

He had no choice. Finishing one wing left him on the verge of tears, so rage alone fueled him as he devoured the next five. The look of accomplishment on his sauce-stained face was enough to pull a laugh from his companion. She slid him the glass of milk, and it was gone in a second. 

It wasn’t entirely enough, and his tongue still felt numb, but she pushed her fries towards him as well. “Here. They’ll help absorb that lingering spice.”

“You fucking planned this,” Tommy murmured, betrayed. She didn’t deny it, and he didn’t care. The fries were gone as fast as the milk. “Why the fuck would you do this to me?”

“Jack’s wings are the best in the city,” Puffy reasoned. “I knew you wouldn’t get the full experience if I hadn’t gone out of my way.”

Tommy let her words sink in. While the spice itself might’ve been life-threatening, the taste was never unpleasant. Muted now by several french fries and a glass of milk, he could say they were very tasty. When Jack came back, he gave his compliments to the chef.

“Thanks, bud,” the man replied. “Y’know, I’m not really a spicy food kinda guy either. I feel you.”

Tommy didn’t bother to question the logic in that. Jack seemed pleasant when he wasn’t trying to kill his customers. Puffy certainly liked him, and she only made trustworthy connections. The idea of that made him cringe inwardly, because he knew he didn’t match that standard.

She trusted Tommy so dearly, but he was a villain-in-training. He snooped on her personal life. He lied to her. If she knew, she would ban him from the laundromat and call the police. She was a good citizen. Puffy would never approve of crime.

“So, Jack,” Puffy said. They’d been going through the basics of small talk for a few minutes at that point, but Tommy hadn’t cared terribly much. “You guys are only open for another hour today? Why’s that?”

“Oh, you know,” Jack sighed. “The other manager couldn’t come in today, and I don’t feel like working double-shifts. The benefits of being the owner are closing whenever I want and saying fuck in front of patrons.”

Tommy thought those were good benefits. 

“Feel free to come back anytime,” Jack hummed as he handed them the check. Tommy caught a glance and was satisfied by the price. Puffy never let him pay, so he usually tried to keep the costs to a minimum. “I’ll see you later, Toms.”

“See ya, big man!” Tommy bid his farewells and they left. His laundry would be ready, so they immediately headed back. The streets were fairly empty. It reminded him of the days where he would watch his back for bullies, but he felt safe beside Puffy. 

Realistically, he hadn’t seen his bullies in a long time. He’d almost been able to forget how shitty his luck was. He must’ve been awful in his past life for his karma to be so terrible. Walking back home, laundry basket in hand, he was an easy target.

Tommy was almost surprised when a familiar douchebag stepped out of an alleyway. It wasn’t the guy Fortress had traumatized ages ago, hence why he had the balls to try this. He was lankier than the last bully, but he played soccer, and Tommy had been on the receiving end of his kicks for years.

Unfortunately for the victim, he knew that his villain companions were busy that day. Wilbur, after dropping Tommy off from his Ender-Ice shift, said that he had to go join Techno and Phil for an important meeting. Glass company shit. None of them would save him this time.

“Long time no see, Tom,” the bully huffed. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since school let out.”

“I haven’t,” Tommy muttered, but he wasn’t quiet enough. The lanky boy was visibly displeased by his comment. “Listen, I’m busy right now. Can’t you wait a little longer for our reunion?”

His bully growled, “You don’t have the right to tell me to wait. You’re nobody, a waste of space with not a single special thing about him.”

Tommy flinched, trying his best to hide how deep that one little comment could cut. He wasn’t entirely sure why it affected him anymore. He knew it was true. In the grand scheme of things, he meant nothing; His power was lame, his job was tedious, and he barely had a family. He was less than average.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” The bully huffed. “I guess you still haven’t learned your place.”

He didn’t respond. At least the words seemed to drag him from his head, where negative thoughts ran rampant.

“Fine,” the lanky kid said. “I’ll just have to remind you.”

Then he was charging. Tommy wasn’t entirely sure if it was because he’d been shot, but the punch that landed on his left cheek didn’t hurt in the slightest. His head barely moved, and all he could do was raise his eyebrows in surprise. 

Even with his pain tolerance, he should’ve felt something. His bullies had learned long ago all the best ways to cause him pain. A normal person would’ve been on the ground by then. 

“Did you get weaker,” Tommy blurted, though he instantly regretted it. The boy in front of him cracked his knuckles. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your masculinity.”

He really needed to learn how to shut up.

Tommy could see him adjust his stance, and he knew his bully was raring up for one of his infamous kicks. It would send his victim and the newly-cleaned laundry toppling onto the pavement. For some reason, he wasn’t too fond of that idea.

Except, there was a difference between this kick and the thousands of others that Tommy had endured: It was slow.

By the time the boy’s leg had shot out, aiming for his knee, Tommy was jumping over it. The bully fell to the ground, tossed off balance by a failed blow. He ate the concrete meant for his victim.

Tommy was frozen in shock. That couldn’t have been right. He’d never dodged a strike thrown by this particular bully. This guy was supposed to be fast, accurate, and dangerous, but Icarus flashed in his mind, and he didn’t seem like that at all.

Tommy had replayed that fight on his television until Tubbo yelled at him to go to bed; the fight between Speedrunner and Icarus. At first, it disgusted him to watch his mentor get unfairly injured. He forced himself through it, reasoning that it was just the cost of the battle, and he would have to get used to it.

Speedrunner was too quick for the cameras to fully catch, but it was different from watching it live. Tommy could slow the videos, watch pixel by pixel until he could finally see what Icarus must’ve been able to see.

He had to predict where the hero was going next to be able to land his iconic hits. That was far more impressive to the apprentice than any coward hiding behind enhanced speed. If he weren’t too embarrassed, he might’ve admitted that it made him admire Wilbur.

Tommy looked down at his opponent. He saw Speedrunner; someone who believed they were completely untouchable, with strengths they relied on too heavily. Just like Icarus and the hero, Tommy had battled this guy on countless occasions. 

He knew every possible repetitive motion, and how much each strike would hurt if it landed. Tommy saw Speedrunner in his bully’s eyes, but he wasn’t scared. He knew this kid wasn’t enough to truly take him down. 

The bully stood, clearly enraged. He stepped like he was about to punch, but Tommy was quicker. He dropped his laundry basket and landed a blow straight to the boy’s nose. It was messy, unstructured, and his knuckles would be bruised for sure, but he did it. 

The other boy jerked back, hands over his face protectively. Tommy saw a bit of blood drip to his chin. Was that because of his punch? Had he caused that? Had he finally fought back, albeit poorly?

His only experience with fighting came from watching it on television. Those huge battles against now-nameless individuals had been nothing more than entertainment to him. Back then, he was young, with delusions of grandeur. 

This was different. He paid more attention now than he ever did as a kid, because he knew he might one day be in Icarus’ place. Afterall, Tommy was his apprentice.

Oh right.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” his bully spat, standing up. “Who do you think you are?”

Icarus’ apprentice.

He was the one that could handle more than one magic item at a time. He was the one who could come back from a bullet wound without major damages. Tommy was an apprentice to one of the strongest villains in history, Icarus, and he would be the one to surpass him. 

“I’m just me.”

And for the first time, Tommy was proud of that.

His bully struck, attempting to knock him down with a punch to the gut. He exhaled sharply, but gave no more of a reaction. Tommy kicked his feet out from underneath him, pleased to find that it wasn’t terribly hard. The boy landed on his knees, scraping them.

“You fucking bitch,” his opponent hissed. The wounds on his skin weren’t deep in the slightest, not even bleeding. They’d left him with twice the bruises in the past. Tommy thought he was weak. “I won’t forget this.”

With his tail tucked between his legs, his bully stumbled down an alleyway and out of sight. 

The world crashed onto Tommy all at once. He wanted to collapse and never stand up. Defending himself hadn’t ever occurred to him as something he could do, but it felt fucking amazing. Would it bite him in the ass? Probably, but he didn’t have to worry for now.

Tommy celebrated his victory by picking up his abandoned laundry basket and practically skipping the whole way home. He shot a quick text to someone on his phone under the contact name ‘Nugget Man,’ but he was too happy to care about a response.

Teach me how to fight.

~~~~

“The announcement was received very well.”

The training room was cold. Most people had left in favor of dinner or freetime, but they didn’t have that luxury. The two of them lingered by the practice weapons. The taller one wielded a staff, despite the comments he received from the shorter. 

Their conversation was one-sided, but that was all it needed to be. Usually, the other heroes were far too bland to keep him interested, but Quackity found a special interest in this guy. His staff slammed against the dummies with too much elegance to be a coincidence. 

“We’ll keep this hype up by revealing bits and pieces until your debut,” Quackity spoke to uncaring ears. “The agency’s putting big bucks into this one. I’m honestly jealous. Mine was so lame that basically no one showed up.”

“That’s because,” the taller of the two sighed, “You’re unbearable.”

“You wound me,” Quackity lamented. “Alas, it’s true. The world doesn’t understand me the way you do, Ranboo.”

Ranboo’s mouth twitched down into a frown. There were no hints of the happy-go-lucky vigilante left. The training room got colder.

“Sorry,” the hero apologized. “You prefer Blink. I keep forgetting.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo said. “You do.”

He set down his staff. The dummy he’d been using was on the ground. Quackity suppressed a grin, knowing it would only cause his company to raise more walls. 

“Is there a date set?” The taller one wiped his brow with a towel. “For my debut.”

Quackity couldn’t help the amusement that crept into his voice. His golden tooth marred his smile. 

“There is.”

~~~~

“One month.”

Phil switched off the television and Wilbur read out a text he’d just received. 

They had work to do.

Chapter Text

“Get up.”

Tommy gasped for air. His lungs, bruised and frantic, burned with each breath. Through the blur in his vision, he watched a black-clad figure step closer. He scrambled backwards, but his limbs protested with sharp pains. 

Icarus sneered. “You’re weak.”

“Shut up,” Tommy huffed. “You’re cheating.”

His mentor laughed, “I’m not even wearing my key. I’m powerless and pathetic without it, remember?”

“You’ve put me on my ass twelve times now.” Tommy stood, brushing himself off. The abandoned warehouse where they were sparring wasn’t wonderfully clean. He loathed to think of his growing laundry pile at home. 

When Wilbur had first received Tommy’s message about learning how to fight, he’d been way too excited. His apprentice considered quitting just to wipe that stupid smile off his face. He only let it continue because he needed to know how to beat up his bullies. No other reason.

Their first lesson started two days after he sent the text message. Tommy hadn’t been expecting his mentor to drag him to the east side of town in full costume, but thirty minutes later, they were flailing around in a dimly-lit building. 

Wilbur said it was to help Tommy get used to fighting someone else in costume. As soon as Eret finished his, he would also start wearing it to their practices. Tommy allowed himself to be a little excited at the thought.

The basics were simple enough to grasp, although Wilbur had far too much to say about his form. They beat up a punching bag for the majority of the time. Tommy was supremely glad that Niki’s intense workout sessions had built up his stamina. 

At the end, Wilbur suggested they spar. It was frankly terrifying how quickly his mentor could move, especially with how tall and crinkly he was. Tommy didn’t receive an inch of mercy. He had a long way to go before he could fight back to any degree.

They’d been training every single night for two weeks. Wilbur let him rest on days where Niki was especially harsh, but even then, they got a little practice in. The biggest thing he’d learned was that his pain tolerance did not apply to whatever went on inside his body; aching muscles, sore throats, and cramps were a daily plague.

“Why do we have to rush this much,” Tommy asked, despite knowing the answer. 

Wilbur was in a hurry to prepare him for his debut. They’d settled on a date, and it wasn’t flexible. Phil said it was a perfect chance to make his mark on the world, and all before his senior year of high school began. 

Tommy wasn’t the only one under pressure of a deadline; Wilbur needed to trust that he could defend himself well enough to even debut in the first place, Phil was arranging the small details, and Techno was managing the business and media while the other two were distracted. 

Techno’s role had surprised him at first. Apparently, villains cared about PR. It was ever-so-slightly different from the way the heroes marketed themselves, but it was very interesting. The Corporation had to keep up their guise of being these horrible, terrible people even when they weren’t making many public appearances. 

“We’re rushing because you’re shit,” Wil grumbled to his apprentice. 

“You’re so mean to me,” Tommy said. 

“Well, yeah,” his mentor replied. “I’m evil.”

There were two weeks left before Tommy was set to debut. He wasn’t ready. Not even close.

Eret had finished the costume a few days prior, but when he went to try it on, she wasn’t satisfied. Wilbur reasoned that it was because he had gained muscles since they originally took his measurements. Tommy thought it fit fine, but if the designer saw an issue, there was no point in arguing.

Besides his outfit and his fighting skills, he had another looming problem.

“What should I do about my alias?”

He’d first brought up the question over lunch at After Hours. Phil was wiping down a table, and Techno was sitting across from him. Wilbur had left for the bathroom. The restaurant was otherwise empty.

“Your villain alias,” Techno echoed. Judging by the glance he shared with Phil, neither of them had given it much thought. “You don’t have one already? Don’t kids your age usually fantasize about becoming heroes or whatever?”

“Sure,” Tommy mumbled. “Everyone else does. I never thought I was good enough to become one.”

Though, that had recently changed. After his fight with the bully two weeks ago, he’d been appreciating the little things a lot. His power might not be the most appealing at first glance, but there were way more convenient benefits than he first acknowledged.

“Well,” Phil cleared his throat. “Maybe you should start brainstorming. That’s up to you at the end of the day, isn’t it?”

By the time Wilbur returned to the table, the topic had been dropped. Since then, Tommy tried everything to come up with a reasonable one. Hell, he’d even resorted to online name generators. Useless, the lot of them.

He browsed the internet for hours, researching every hero, vigilante, villain, and half-assed crackhead relevant enough to have a subreddit. Every single one of them had a name that suited them. 

“Wil,” he spoke up once they’d finished their latest tussle. “Who am I?”

“A bitch,” Wilbur responded instantly. “A tiny, unbearable, little bitch.”

“Not helpful.” Tommy groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “What the fuck am I going to do?”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. He sat down next to his apprentice, the cold concrete of the warehouse floor keeping them both grounded. “I’m guessing this is about the alias? Techno told me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let Techno name you,” Wil suggested. “I took the nickname he had for me. He always used to say I was so dramatic that it would be my downfall, and Icarus fit that.”

“I don’t want to be a Greek hero,” Tommy whined. “It’s so lame.”

Wilbur sat on that bit of information for a minute before snapping his fingers. “We just need to think of what makes you special!”

“What nonsense are you spouting now,” the younger blonde asked. “You think I haven’t considered that?”

Honestly, it was a fair assumption. Until recently, he’d been violently against anyone who called him unique. If his mentor thought he was incapable of finding himself special, he wouldn’t be wrong. His self-esteem was a work-in-progress.

“That’s what most powered people do,” Wilbur said. “Phil’s got shadow wings, so Midnight reflects that. Techno summons walls, hence Fortress. Besides my flare for the dramatics, my power makes others’ emotions overshadow their common sense. Icarus flies too close to the sun and ignores his dad’s warning for his own hubris.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at how utterly obvious all of them were.

“We could call you ‘Gremlin’ because of how much you drive everyone around you insane.”

Tommy gasped, “You take that back.”

He smacked Wilbur, who scrambled to his feet as he cackled. Tommy rose with the intent of chasing him, but his mentor was quick to distract him. “I’ll take it back if you can land one hit.”

Tommy hesitated. He couldn’t win against Wil. He had no reason to be confident. Still, he said, “I’ll make you eat those damn words.”

They squared up.

Wilbur was the first to charge. He was quick, but he was clearly holding back. Tommy dodged a kick, his bully’s enraged face coming to mind. Wil recovered significantly faster than any asshole he went to school with, and he was ducking under a second kick a second later.

Tommy was certain that if any of these hits had landed on a regular person, they’d have to be admitted to a hospital. He’d only been minorly injured a handful of times from sparring, mostly just the occasional bruise or cut. Those alone were rare for him, of course, so he liked to overplay the pain. 

If his resistance ever allowed a hit to leave a bruise behind, his pain tolerance basically negated any actual damage, but pretending never hurt anyone. Wilbur never totally believed him, but Tommy kept up the act in hopes that he’d get an extra ice cream cone.

His resistance was the reason why his head barely moved when Wil landed a direct punch to his jaw. It ached slightly, the only proof that the strike was no joke. Wilbur grinned with a twisted hint of pride. 

“C’mon,” the villain taunted. “If you keep playing defense like that, you’ll never get an apology.”

If his key wasn’t sitting on the ground next to his coat, Tommy would’ve assumed Wilbur was using his power. Their fight hadn’t lasted long enough for Tommy to consider himself on the defensive, but they all turned out that way in the past, so the teasing hit its mark.

He lashed out, and his arm was seized instantly. He was flipped flat onto his back, the breath forced from his lungs for the thousandth time that week. Wilbur let out a triumphant laugh and bent over to survey his downed opponent. 

“So,” his mentor hummed. “How does losing taste?”

“You tell me.” Tommy’s hand shot up and slapped across Wilbur’s smug face. His expression dropped. “Hah! I won!”

“That doesn’t fucking count,” Wil scoffed. “I beat your ass.”

“Your fault for not setting the rules,” Tommy retorted. “I hit you, so I won. All’s fair in war and war, bitch.”

“One day I’m going to break your legs.” His mentor’s threat was light-hearted, and he helped his apprentice to his feet. 

“You can sure as hell try. I’ve never broken a bone in all my seventeen years.” Tommy was far too proud of that little fact. Wilbur called it a day and they grabbed their abandoned things. They left the warehouse and didn’t speak again until the car was on the road. 

“We really do need a name for you,” Wil tutted. “I’m so bad at this part.”

“I’m just your apprentice, man,” Tommy said. “Do I really need something?”

Wilbur made a bewildered sound. “What the fuck do you mean? You’re debuting in two weeks. Of course you need something!”

The boy sank down in his seat. Wilbur didn’t pester him beyond that, not that he needed to. Tommy knew he wouldn’t be able to think of anything besides possible names for the next while. It was something so horribly important that he couldn’t just leave it up to someone else to decide. 

Wil had mentioned that Techno picked out the name Icarus, but Tommy really didn’t want to rely on some mega-nerd for that. He tried to think of anything that set him apart. It was easier said than done.

His favorite color was red, which immediately sparked thoughts of blood. He quickly dismissed those ideas. He was a teenage supervillain, not some desperate heavy-metal band. Red wasn’t good for much else, so maybe colors weren’t the answer.

His power had to do with pain. Tommy ran through every synonym he could remember. They were all underwhelming. Resistance had even fewer results. His gift might protect him from harm, but he’d never totally related to people who fought on the defensive like Glitch. 

He really had no other options, did he?

Wilbur allowed him to use his phone to call Techno.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line sounded distracted. Vaguely, Tommy could make out the sound of a pen moving across paper. Techno was likely working late. 

“I need an alias,” Tommy blurted. “Help me.”

He heard a slight chuckle, “Oh really? I’m supposed to do all the work for you?”

“You did all the work for Wil!” The boy was bordering on desperate, but he tried his best not to let the two other men hear it. 

“You forget that he’s my brother,” Techno said. “We’ve been living together and calling each other by assorted nicknames since we were kids. It’s not my fault he liked one a little too much.”

“Don’t mess with him too much,” Wilbur chimed in. “He’s on the brink of tears.”

“I am not,” Tommy shouted. “Techno, tell him that I’m not!”

“I can’t see you,” Techno replied. “I dunno. He might be telling the truth.”

The two laughed as Tommy let out little grunts of disapproval. After a longer discussion that ended in nothingness, Techno agreed to meet them at After Hours. It was past dinner time and they were all in need of a snack. Wilbur changed out of his Icarus getup, and they headed inside.

It was Tommy’s first experience inside the building at night. Wil and Puffy only took him for lunch, when it was borderline empty and relaxed. Early evening was an entirely new scene. There were people everywhere, especially in the booths. They ranged from sketchy to pompous in appearance. 

Thankfully, Techno’s ego outshone everyone else, so they were able to locate him. 

He’d snagged a corner table somehow, even though Wilbur said those were usually the booths that were taken first. Phil explained that it was because of the shady folks, vigilantes and criminals alike, that hung around after dark. 

“What took you so long,” Techno greeted oh-so-politely. Tommy made sure to scoot uncomfortably close to him in the booth as payback. Wil was left with ample space on the opposite side of the table. 

Tommy slipped off his hoodie for probably the first time all summer. He felt strangely cold, despite the restaurant not having blasting air conditioning. Wilbur shot him a weird look. “I didn’t know you had arms.”

Techno didn’t give him time to respond, “What ideas did you have for possible names?”

“I have none,” Tommy stated matter-of-factly.

“I suggested Gremlin,” Wil said.

“I like that one,” Techno snorted. Tommy gaped. “It certainly suits you.”

“Veto!” The youngest of the three slammed his hand down on the table, drawing a few curious eyes. He realized and shrunk. “Please. Not that one.”

“Fine,” Techno chuckled. “How about Helios?”

“Be serious,” Tommy groaned. “Isn’t Helios that brand that puts wheels in shoes?”

“That’s Heelys.” Techno raised a judgemental eyebrow as he explained, “Helios was the titan of the sun. Icarus was a boy who died by flying too close to the sun.”

“Tommy’s not going to kill me,” Wil scoffed.

“I’ve considered it,” Tommy corrected. Wilbur’s frown set his heart at peace. He truly felt he could achieve anything as long as his mentor continued to look that upset. 

“I didn’t suggest that because he’s going to kill you,” Techno said. “He’s planning on surpassing you, isn’t he? He’s certainly capable of it, at the very least. Helios would be a good name to highlight that.” 

Wilbur calmed, and Tommy made a mental note to key Techno’s car later. Damn old people and their tendencies to ruin his fun. His motivation halved now that his mentor wasn’t inconvenienced.

“I think that’s a good starting concept,” a new voice said. They all looked over, grinning at the sight of Phil. He was holding a tray of drinks and moving between tables. “But it feels a little old for Tommy. Maybe try something more youthful.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur hummed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Something like Tiny Man or Starboy.”

Tommy kicked him underneath the table.

“Wil,” Phil tutted. “Be nice. This is important.”

Wilbur’s shoulders dropped like a scolded puppy. Phil was Tommy’s favorite.

“Theseus?” Tommy turned to hear Techno as he said, “He was a hero who died tragically after fighting for his home. Very noble and foolish.”

“Pass,” the young blonde said. “That’s way too sad for an almighty villain alias.”

Techno brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. He was clearly deep in thought. Tommy found himself briefly admiring how much thought his friends were giving his debut. Aside from the joking suggestions, they were genuinely trying. It felt like a group project where everyone actually did their assigned share.

He was happy.

~~~~

“I think I should be called Big Man,” Tommy said. “I am a very big man.”

“No,” the two brothers responded at the same time. 

“What about Mr. Cool?”

“No.”

“Red Guy?”

“No.”

Their process had gone on for a while. Numerous names had been tossed about, but ultimately they were all denied. Tommy felt more comfortable throwing out stupid ideas after the first hour had passed. 

Tubbo texted him at one point, wondering where he was, and he had to respond that his internship was going late for a meeting. It was partly true, but it still made his stomach churn slightly. He hated lying to his best friend, and he hated that he was growing accustomed to it. 

Tubbo had gotten better in the last two weeks. The bags under his eyes had faded for the most part and his smile was less forced. He rarely left the house besides for work or doing the laundry, but there was a visible improvement in his complexion. 

It occurred to Tommy after a few days of watching his roommate mope that perhaps it wasn’t a bad date that upset him. Singular date nights didn’t cause people to go into depressive episodes. He must’ve gotten dumped or something.

Tommy made sure to stock the freezer with ice cream.

His roommate responded to his text with a thumbs-up emoji, and Tommy was free to go back to being a supervillain. Phil was still busy tending the bar, but he occasionally stopped by to give his input. Techno had a list of names to consider on his phone, although he hadn’t added to it in a while. Wil looked close to passing out. 

“What about Designated Driver,” Tommy said. Wilbur used the last of his energy to roll his eyes. “Get it? Because I’ll have everyone’s keys.”

“Please,” Techno begged. “Stop talking.”

“Can you even drive?” Wil set his forehead against the table.

Tommy didn’t answer him, but his silence was confirmation enough. His uncle had made it abundantly clear that the world would end if his nephew were able to freely roam the roads. He had no ground to argue.

“C’mon, man! I want a cool name,” Tommy whined. “None of the ones you guys come up with are any fun.”

“I see.” Techno deadpanned. “I’m left with no choice. It won’t match up with you exactly, but this is my final suggestion.”

Wilbur raised his head and Tommy perked up.

“Hyperion,” the pink-haired man said. “He was the titan of light and one of the four pillars that kept the sky and the earth apart. He only has a handful of myths about him, so whatever you do should pop up first when people google it.”

Tommy considered the name. It certainly didn’t sound as old as Helios, or as stupid as Starboy. Hyperion was a name he could see being written in newspapers or comic books. Still, though, was it him?

“You’d be able to shorten it to Hype.”

“Sold,” Tommy declared. “That’s it. I want that one. Everyone else can go home.”

Wilbur banged his head against the table and Techno hid a smile behind his hand. Phil would be told later, once his sons could find the time. Secretly, they were all relieved that the matter was finally settled. 

Wil drove Tommy home in comfortable silence. His apprentice stewed in his own pleased thoughts, a smile plastered on his face. It wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined for his villain name, but he couldn’t think of anything else that fit quite as well.

The apartment was dark by the time he unlocked the door. The television was turned on, its screen the only source of light. The room reflected the flickering of the channels against the walls, switching every now and again as commercials played. 

Tommy crept in as quietly as he could. Tubbo had fallen asleep on the couch, a box of tissues in his arms. The blonde grimaced at the thought of his roommate crying. The television droned in the background, and Tommy moved to turn it off. Before he could, he saw what was playing.

It was an old, recorded fight between Mecha, Blink, and some petty criminal. 

He remembered saving it, knowing Tubbo would enjoy it. Why was it playing now? 

Tommy glanced down at his friend. There were tear streaks on his cheeks, and his eyes were puffy. He was sleeping peacefully at that moment, but there was no doubt he had cried. The worried crease in his brow was a permanent feature, even in unconsciousness. 

“Blink and Mecha have stopped yet another bank robbery on the east side,” the news reporter announced. “Is there anything that could stop this unbeatable duo?”

Tommy turned off the television.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe summer’s over in two weeks,” Tommy sighed.

Wilbur steered the car down their usual route. The east side wasn’t terribly far from the boy’s apartment, but the drive always felt long. As usual, he was excited for whatever his mentor would be teaching him when they arrived. 

They weren’t going to be doing hand-to-hand combat for once. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but it was extremely repetitive to learn. Wil had promised that Tommy would like his next lesson, and he hoped that was true.

“No, really? I thought you still had three weeks,” Wilbur said. “When do you start back?”

“August 26th,” his apprentice answered. He rested his elbow on the car door. “It’s literally four days after my debut. If I get pummeled into the ground, you’re writing my teachers a fucking note.”

“I’m not the one who chose the date,” Wil huffed defensively. For once in his life, he was driving carefully. He hadn’t run a single stop sign, or flipped off any other cars. That, in and of itself, was a miracle. 

Tommy was in the midst of one of his very rare days off. Niki had something better to do, and he didn’t have a shift at Ender-Ice. The latter of the two occupancies had been rather strange lately. Ranboo’s mom had taken over for her son for the past two weeks, and he didn’t know how to approach the topic.

Ranboo was one of his closest friends, but they didn’t talk much outside of work. Tommy only realized once he stopped seeing him altogether how much he relied on him to get through work. They would crack jokes, laugh at Karens, share stories, everything. Ms. Ender was a lovely woman, but he worried about why his friend couldn’t show up. 

Despite that, Tommy was determined to have a good day off. Wilbur agreed to starting their lesson earlier, and even promised to switch it up. As if that wasn’t enough, Eret had finally finished his costume. He put it on the second they got to the warehouse.

It wasn’t his first time seeing it, but he still felt like a giddy little kid. Eret was a really talented designer. He’d honestly expected some skin-tight monstrosity like certain heroes had, but that wasn’t what he’d received in the slightest.

The costume was a mix between fabric and bits of what he assumed was soft metal. The metal covered his knees, elbows, stomach, and wrists. It was obviously meant for protection, like wearing pads in sports, but he didn’t feel like his motion was disturbed at all. On the contrary, it bent with him. 

His favorite addition had to be the red hood on the back, which reminded him of his signature hoodie. It was impossible to deny that his designer had made it especially for him.

The colors went together as well as Eret and Wilbur had promised they would. The fabric was red, and the metal was white, setting up a healthy balance between the shades. Tommy had been left in charge of the shoes, so he’d used Wil’s credit card to buy a brand new pair of black sneakers. 

Eret had taken those and made some improvements. When they gave them back, he didn’t notice any immediate differences. Wilbur said they would go over the upgrades during practice. Tommy remembered that as he tightened the laces.

Once the suit was on, complete with the shoes, only his most important features were left. Wilbur handed him a little box of completely-black contact lenses. Tommy wasn’t terribly worried about touching his eyes, but he had a few failed attempts before he could finally get them in.

Wil snapped a picture, smiling like a proud mentor, and Tommy made a mental note to crush his phone. 

Lastly, he was left with his mask. It was a simple over-the-eyes style, similar to Icarus’ in everything but color. Whereas the infamous supervillain had a posh silver-and-gold, Tommy had a deep scarlet color.

A detail Eret hadn’t discussed with him prior to his mask’s creation were the two little devil horns, and the slightly slanted eye holes that gave him a more mischievous look. It wasn’t awful though.

Wilbur gave him a plain-looking backpack, saying that he would need to have a designated place to keep his costume so he didn’t lose anything. He put his civilian clothes in it for the time being. Once it was all zipped up, Tommy couldn’t help but compare it to the weird bag Tubbo always carried around.

He brushed it off, because that was a stupid thought that ultimately went nowhere. Tubbo was his best friend, and Tommy was confident they would share any secrets in due time. 

Wilbur gushed over him, even though he was also wearing his full Icarus outfit. His voice changer made him sound like even more of an asshole.

“Can we go inside, now,” Tommy asked. The warehouse where they practiced was far away from any prying eyes, and Techno had already done a thorough inspection to make sure there were no security cameras. Both him and Wilbur felt safe enough to waltz around in their villain outfits, but Tommy preferred to stay indoors.

“You’re so paranoid,” Wil snorted. “I’ve got one more thing for you, then we can.”

He handed his apprentice a black earpiece. Tommy knew immediately what it was. He put it on and grinned. “My own voice changer?”

“Of course,” Wilbur laughed. He reached over and pressed a button on the earpiece. Tommy heard a little beep. “Can’t have my prodigy revealing his identity over something as stupid as a voice, can I?”

“So, how does it work,” Tommy started, but he paused halfway through the sentence to slap a hand over his mouth. Whatever he’d just said, it didn’t sound like him. It was more like someone had put on a slight autotune filter and pitched his voice down an octave. “This is so fucking cool.”

Each new word felt like he was jumpscaring himself. Wil couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “You sound great.”

“Fuck yeah,” the boy screamed. Birds flew off buildings in fear of the new sound that echoed between lanes of empty warehouses. Wil, still snickering, pushed him inside the warehouse. Tommy’s face immediately lit up when he saw two other figures. 

Fortress and Midnight waited in the shadows in true supervillain fashion. For once, Tommy didn’t feel underdressed in front of them. He was just as intimidating as they were. 

Phil snapped a picture. “Eret’s outdone herself.”

“Send that to me,” Techno snorted. 

Tommy lost all joy he might’ve felt at that moment.

“Why the fuck are they here,” he groaned. 

“They’re going to help with today’s lesson,” Wilbur explained. He was stretching, and Tommy’s excitement sparked. “Since I can’t do this part by myself.”

“Your debut is coming up fast, but we realized that we’ve forgotten to teach you the most important parts,” Phil said. Tommy frowned, tilting his head in confusion. Techno trudged over, something in his hands. He gestured for the boy to raise his own hand, and set a familiar object in it. Tommy paled.

His key.

“What the hell,” he all-but shouted. “Why are you giving me this?”

Techno scoffed, “The main reason we chose you was for your proficiency with magic items, right? You have to learn somehow.”

Oh.

Right.

“Psh, I knew that,” Tommy stammered. The item in his hands was the same gold color as the first time he’d seen it, with the same ruby embedded in it. It was relatively heavy for something so small, and just looking at it made him want to curl into a ball.

Like all the other keys he’d held, it didn’t hurt him. Fortress’ magic was probably the least complex of the infamous trio. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he could summon walls. The details and limitations were unknown though.

“My item is called the Fortitude Key,” Techno explained. “You probably already know what it does, but that doesn’t mean you can wield it just like that. This is going to take time, effort, and practice.”

Tommy looked at the ground a few feet away from him. The warehouse used the typical polished concrete, though it was poorly cared for and cracking. The key felt warm in his hand, and he imagined turning that concrete into a small wall. 

Tommy shrieked as the ground shifted and shot upwards, rumbling loudly.

The new structure loomed over them all. It was taller than him, casting an imposing shadow. He gaped, unable to move. The key in his hands grew colder. A single hairline crack split through the middle. 

Wilbur grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him away. Not even a second later, slabs of concrete slammed into the place where he’d been standing.

As quickly as it had come, the wall crumbled. Dust filled the air, drawing coughs from everyone. A strong gust of wind blew it away, provided by Phil’s wings. Wil was still holding Tommy’s shirt. From the strength of his grip, he didn’t intend to let go.

The room was entirely silent for one minute, then two. Techno’s jaw was on the floor. He was so pale that the boy feared he might pass out. Tommy cleared his throat, “That wasn’t so hard.”

“How the fuck did you do that,” Phil whispered. 

Tommy blanked. He glanced down at the key in his hand. It wasn’t as warm anymore, but it had definitely heated up a second ago. What caused the item to react? 

“You shouldn’t have been able to use that yet,” Wil muttered. “That took Techno two years to master.”

Techno dropped to his knees and removed his skull mask. His red contacts were in, and they were firmly glued to the pile of rubble. Tommy wanted to say something to him, but what could he really do?

“I’m sorry,” he said. Wil lightly tugged on his shirt. 

“Don’t apologize.” His mentor let him go and walked to his brother. “It took him years to build up his body’s strength to be able to handle forming a wall that large. You don’t have that handicap, which we all know, but it’s jarring.”

Tommy flushed, embarrassed. 

Phil sighed. His face was hidden by the giant hat and veil he always wore as Midnight. He nudged the collapsed wall with his foot. Whoever owned the warehouse was going to have a hard time explaining the damage to their insurance agency.

“How,” Techno exhaled. His eyes, blood red and filled with confusion, stared into Tommy’s soul. “How did you do that? I didn’t even explain anything.”

“I kinda just did it,” Tommy stuttered, shrugging.

“That’s not possible. You shouldn’t have known the secret step,” Techno shot back.

“The secret step?” Tommy frowned.

Phil nodded. “Yes, the secret step. Wil’s key can enhance emotions, but the emotion must already be present in the target, or it won’t work. My key grants immunity to one person for as long as I want, but I have to focus my mind specifically on that person for the entire duration.”

“Every key needs something from its user, or you can’t wield its full power,” Wil chimed in. “Usually it's mental, but sometimes it's physical. I’m pretty sure most other magic items don’t require secret steps. It’s unique to the keys.”

“That’s cool,” Tommy said. His voice was quiet.

“Creating and maintaining a wall takes stamina and focus,” Techno informed. Some color had returned to his cheeks, though his eyes were still wide. “But you also have to have a strong grasp on the materials that your wall is to be made of.”

Tommy’s face brightened visibly. “I did think about turning the concrete into a wall. Would that be enough to do it?”

“Seeing as you did it,” Techno chuckled breathlessly. “Yes, I’d say it is.”

He stood again and trudged over to the kid, hand extended. Tommy set his key in his palm. Techno enclosed it in his fist and turned to the wide open expanse of the warehouse. The ground rumbled again, and five walls shot up at once. 

Thankfully, they were a safe distance away this time, and Wil didn’t have to save him from falling concrete. A minute passed, though, and the walls didn’t crumble at all. 

“I always thought your power was the easiest,” Tommy admitted. Techno smiled. “I couldn’t even hold one of those for thirty seconds.”

The older man reached up and ruffled his hair. It took a great amount of restraint for Tommy to not swat his hands away. The second Techno stopped, he pulled the hood of his costume over his head. 

“I’ve had years to get this far,” Techno reasoned. “You might only have two weeks, but you’re already progressing very quickly. I’m confident you’ll be a master before your debut.”

“You don’t care if I surpass you?” Tommy was teasing, although it wasn’t quite as much of a jab as he’d intended. Techno gave him a genuine smile.

“If it’s you, I don’t think I mind being surpassed.”

~~~~

Supervillains were saps. 

If Tommy could take nothing else away from his lesson, that was what he’d learned. Wilbur and Phil praised him for the rest of the day about his accidental showcase of the Fortitude Key. He got nothing more from Techno, but he’d expected as much. 

They collectively agreed that trying out one key was enough for the day, but that wasn’t the end. Wil suggested that Tommy watch him and Phil spar. The apprentice was quick to jump on that idea. 

They made him promise to stay off to the side so he wouldn’t be put in any danger, and they forced Techno to stand with him for safe keeping. Worst case scenario, he could throw a wall up between them and the fight. The pink-haired man didn’t argue. 

Wilbur stood across from Phil, shaking out his limbs and building up his adrenaline. On the other side, the veiled villain didn’t move. His hands were by his sides, and his wings were folded neatly behind his back. 

“Why isn’t he doing anything,” Tommy whispered to Techno.

“He doesn’t need to prepare,” was all the older man said. 

The second Wil stopped warming up, Phil’s wings sprung to life. One moment, they were on opposite sides of the warehouse, and the next, they were fighting. Wil aimed a kick at his father’s head, and the man ducked under it. Phil caught his leg and pushed him away. Tommy couldn’t keep up.

Wilbur stopped a punch and attempted to throw the older man, but a knee to the gut forced him to back off. A blow to his lower back drew a cough from his mouth, and Phil almost downed him. He rolled out of the way, and the other followed with all his momentum.

His mentor dodged barely and kicked his father’s feet out from underneath him. Phil flapped his wings once, and the strategic burst of wind kept him from hitting the ground. Despite being slightly off-balance, he went right back to attacking Wil.

“Wil’s at a disadvantage,” Techno explained quietly. “He needs time to analyze his opponent’s emotions in order to fully utilize his powers. Phil isn’t giving it to him by constantly being offensive.”

“He’s messing with his wings quite a bit,” Tommy noticed. Phil kept opening and closing them with his movements. “I can’t imagine that it does anything since they’re just shadows.”

“They’re just shadows to us ,” Techno corrected. Tommy shot him a confused look. “To him, they’re corporeal. We might not be able to touch them, but they’re connected to him. He can significantly shift his balance or speed by adjusting them.”

“That’s so cool,” Tommy said. He watched with wonder-filled eyes as his mentor got decked in the face by the veiled villain. It felt surreal to see everything happening in real time. Millions of news reporters and online speculators failed to guess the bits of information that he was learning from this one sparring match.

He felt special.

The weight of this positive realization nearly caused him to miss Wil getting the upper hand. His mentor had quite literally wrapped himself around Phil. He’d jumped onto his back and knocked his father to the ground. Phil’s wings flailed as if they might be able to do something, but they ultimately went right through the younger villain.

“That was way too easy, old man,” Wil boasted. “Maybe Tommy should’ve been your apprentice, given how quickly you seem to be aging.”

“Hah,” Phil replied sarcastically. “Very funny. Your taunts don’t work on me, mate.”

Tommy hadn’t noticed until Phil said something, but Wil’s key was glowing faintly beneath his shirt. It was so faint that one could easily miss it. The teasing comments sounded so natural from Icarus that even his apprentice hadn’t suspected he was using his power. 

“We both know I don’t need taunts for you,” the brunette villain sneered. Tommy suppressed a shudder. His mind still didn’t completely recognize Icarus as an ally, and his instincts warned him of danger. 

Phil jerked his body, succeeding in knocking Wil aside. He was back on his feet and striking at his opponent in an instant. A faint light still shone through Wilbur’s shirt, signifying that he was using his gift. Techno grinned, and Tommy knew he was going to enjoy the fight.

“I can practically feel you grasping at straws, mate,” Phil called, swiping at the younger. Wil ducked, spun, and landed a decent punch to his side. “Cycling through every emotion in the book isn’t a great strategy.”

Wilbur backed away briefly, and his expression hardened. The key glowed brighter. Techno let out a small breath, “He settled on an emotion.”

Phil tensed all at once, his wings flexing in discomfort. His legs were shaking ever-so-slightly. It looked almost as though Phil’s senses had slowed. He dodged less, got hit more. Wilbur’s next punch connected to his stomach easily.

“You still haven’t learned to hide this one, old man,” Wilbur cackled triumphantly. “Seriously, you’re losing your touch.”

Techno sighed, “He needs to learn to shut up.”

Phil’s wings stretched open to their full length. Their shadowy form made him look twice as intimidating. One large swish sent him flying forward. His feet connected with Wil’s shoulders and knocked him to the ground. 

Wilbur tried to shove him away, but the balance given to him by his wings made him practically immovable. Wil’s hands were pinned next to his head within seconds. The fight was over. Phil had won.

“Damn it,” Wilbur cried. “I wanted to look cool in front of Tommy.”

“Tough luck,” Tommy snickered. “Phil’s the biggest man, so that’ll be hard.”

The veiled villain released his son and laughed, “It’s your own fault. You let your ego get the better of you.”

“Wait,” Tommy interrupted. “What actually happened there? I don’t understand.”

Wilbur climbed to his feet, brushing the dust from his cloak. “It’s usually really hard for me to find a decent emotion to manipulate when I’m fighting Phil, so I tend to get overzealous.”

“I’m a bit predictable,” Phil admitted. “He always seems to catch the same one if I’m not quick enough to hide it.”

“Which emotion did you enhance, exactly,” Tommy asked. 

“Affection,” Techno butted in, a smirk on his face. “The old guy can’t help but feel affectionate towards his kids. Ain’t that right?”

“Unfortunately,” Phil chuckled. “Raising two gutter rats does that.”

Tommy deadpanned.

Midnight was nearly defeated because of his love for his kids? Something about that was utterly underwhelming. The Corporation was a band of deadly, unbeatable monsters. They were known for their ruthlessness and their merciless natures. And yet, here they were, looking like a perfect little family.

It made him sick. Not jealous at all.

“You guys are sappy as fuck,” Tommy groaned. “Can you drive me home, now?”

Wilbur smacked him upside the head. His apprentice should’ve been angry, but something about the smile on his face quelled any negative emotions. Tommy concluded that it must’ve been the effects of Wil’s key. There was no other way.

“Fine,” the older brunette agreed. “We’ve got a meeting with the sales team in an hour anyway.”

“Phil, listen to me very carefully,” Techno said. Phil perked up underneath his veil. “If we don’t hurry home now, Wil’s gonna hog the showers. There will be no hot water left. We have to leave.”

“If this is some ploy to make me speed, it’s not going to work,” his dad laughed. Tommy remembered from the few days where Phil drove him that the man always obeyed the rules of the road. “You two are so obsessed with that. I don’t get it.”

“We’ve put up with your driving for too long,” Wil huffed. “No one man should have that clean of a criminal record.”

“Slow down,” Tommy said. “Roll that one back, chief. Phil has a clean record?”

“Not a ticket in sight,” Techno confirmed, a bit of exasperation in his tone. “He’s never sped, run a red light, or parked where he wasn’t supposed to.”

“You’re telling me the Midnight is afraid of a speeding ticket? Couldn’t you pay that fine with just the money in your wallet?” Tommy was flabbergasted. “Or are you simply too good to get pulled over?”

Phil cackled and removed his hat. His bright smile starkly contrasted his pitch black eyes. Tommy knew that they were meant to match Icarus and Hyperion’s costumes, but it was still startling to see. 

Usually, that was a detail that would never be visible. Phil’s veil had never failed to protect his identity. Some part of Tommy felt honored, and he started to mimic the older blonde’s infectious laughter. 

They all changed into civilian clothes after they’d calmed down. Techno hitched a ride back to their house in Phil’s car, and Wilbur took Tommy home in his. They had their business meeting soon, so his mentor sped a little along the way. Stop signs were more of a suggestion at that point. 

“What does your sales team wanna talk about,” Tommy inquired.

“We need to discuss a really huge chance that we could be offered soon,” Wilbur said. “This meeting is private between the company heads, but you might be allowed to attend the main meeting in a few days, assuming everything works out.”

“What’s the huge chance?”

“The hero agency needs new windows.”

Tommy froze. He turned slowly to face his mentor. “What?”

The grin on Wilbur’s face was evil. “We’re going to meet with them and discuss our strongest glass yet.”

A company run by the three most powerful villains working with the hero agency. That would be a clickbait headline that would never lose traction. Tommy could barely feel the rise and fall of his chest over the rapid beating of his heart.

“They’ll never have to worry about someone coming through their windows ever again,” Wilbur continued. “Of course, if they let us that close to them, their windows won’t be their most worrying weak point anymore.”

“Their headquarters,” Tommy whispered. “It has a lot of windows, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Wil laughed. “It’ll take months to replace them all. Months of our trusted workers walking in and out, doing our best to make sure their walls are impenetrable.”

Something told him that meeting would be very interesting.

“Alright,” Tommy agreed. “I’ll attend. If you can manage to get a job that exclusive, I think it would be a waste to not have your intern right there beside you.”

Silence fell over the car, and the sun dipped to the horizon. It’d be nightfall by the time he got home. Usually, they would go for dinner somewhere, but Tommy wasn’t too bitter. He could make ramen if it meant that Craft & Co scored such a big deal. 

Wilbur dropped him off in front of the building as always. Tommy waved to him as his car sped out of sight, fondly recalling the day. He’d learned a lot from those three, despite their chaotic habits. It was both exciting and exhausting. By the time he’d gotten to his front door, he was ready to take a nap.

As Tommy stepped into his apartment, his senses sharpened.

The lights were completely out. He considered that Tubbo might be asleep on the couch, but the seat was empty. If his roommate wasn’t sleeping, he could find no excuse for the lighting. They almost always left a lamp or two on. 

Tubbo’s backpack had been thrown on the ground. In the darkness, he couldn’t tell what objects were peeking out of the open zipper. It was uncharacteristic of his roommate to leave it around, especially when it was so exposed. 

Then he saw the bloody footprints.

A crash echoed from the kitchen.

Tommy bit his lip to refrain from screaming. His thoughts ran at a million miles an hour, trying to process every possible detail. His eyes glazed over. His limbs shook. The darkness of his living room threatened to pour into his brain. He couldn’t breathe.

He needed to force himself to calm down. Whoever left those footprints was still in his house. Bleeding or not, an intruder was an intruder. Wilbur hadn’t intended for his lessons to be used before his debut, but he had no choice. He had to handle this.

Tommy put one foot forward, then another. A board creaked under his weight. He didn’t falter. He couldn’t afford to be thrown off by a mistake. As he edged closer, he snagged an empty mug from the coffee table. Blunt force would be his friend in this situation.

He paused at the doorway to take a deep breath. He was Icarus’ apprentice. He sparred against the top three villains for fun. A home invader, and an injured one at that, would be nothing. He could do this. Tommy whirled around the corner, mug raised. 

The intruder had collapsed on his kitchen floor.

He didn’t drop his guard. The lights were off in that room too, blocking him from seeing their face. They didn’t react to his presence. The smell of iron coated everything in the vicinity. He nudged their leg, and a low groan gurgled from their throat. It was no use. He needed to turn on the lights.

He backed up and set one hand on the light switch. After a second of silence, he flipped it. The mug fell, shattering, and Tommy screamed.

Dressed in a bloodied jacket, clutching familiar goggles, was Tubbo.

His roommate. His best friend. 

A vigilante.

Mecha.

Chapter Text

Mecha was bleeding on his kitchen floor. 

Tubbo was bleeding on his kitchen floor.

Tommy tried to control the rapid breaths as they left him, but they refused to concede. His mind raced. His heart pounded. Every little lie he’d told himself was falling apart at the seams. 

Tubbo never kept huge secrets for long.

Tubbo would eventually confess who he was sneaking out to see every day.

Tubbo would never hide something like this from him.

Except he would. And he did.

This was worse than an intruder breaking into his home. This was worse than having some stranger’s blood staining his carpet. This was worse than any possible scenario he could’ve imagined. 

Tubbo was Tubbo. He was amazing with his gift, but he was always content to stay in the background. He never wanted center stage in anything they did. He was introverted, downright shy at times. He was only comfortable around Tommy, and that was because of years of friendship.

Mecha was a loud vigilante. He actively put effort into attracting attention. The camera would always be on him during fights. Even his fighting style was flashy. To an untrained eye, he was practically perfect. Tommy only found faults recently because of his training, but even then he could never hope to beat the vigilante one on one.

Was he really supposed to believe they were the same person?

The jacket could’ve passed as just a lookalike, but the goggles were indisputable. People on reddit had tried to recreate them, and some believable replicas had been produced, but for those without a technologically-related gift, it was nearly impossible to perfect. 

The lenses were one-way mirrors, and the rims buzzed with assorted wires and lights. From the angle in which Tommy stood, he could see within the goggles, and realized there had to be a mini-computer built in. It was extraordinary, and it set its creator apart from the rest.

Tommy had always enjoyed watching Mecha’s battles because of his use of technology. Heroes were licensed, specially trained, and usually in possession of a magic item. Mecha had only his mind to help him. He viewed the vigilante as someone who could’ve realistically been anyone. 

Except for Tubbo. For some reason, that was the one person he had not expected, but that shouldn’t have been the case.

It was his own prejudice that blocked out his best friend as a suspect. With each passing second, he connected more dots that he hadn’t noticed before; Tubbo was never around to witness Mecha’s fights live, always sneaking out during his free-time, carrying around the suspicious bag, and finding a sudden interest in fitness.

All the while, his roommate must’ve been meeting with Blink and kicking ass. Tommy couldn’t wrap his head around everything. 

A groan from Tubbo shoved him back to reality. His best friend was bleeding on their kitchen floor, halfway between conscious and dead.

Tommy knelt beside him, going over everything he knew about first-aid. Tubbo flinched, and Tommy whispered a silent apology for any pain he might cause him. He removed Tubbo’s battered jacket as quickly as possible. 

His shirt underneath was torn, but his back was not the wounded area. The blood was very obviously seeping from his stomach, which meant he had to turn Tubbo over. Tommy braced himself. 

All at once, so as not to prolong the pain, he flipped over his best friend. Tommy didn’t like what he saw. 

At least four bigger cuts covered his torso, and hundreds of little scrapes colored his torso. They looked almost like slashes of some sort. As long as it wasn’t a stab or bullet wound, he didn’t have time to overanalyze the cause. 

He remembered Boomer. The doctor with a healing gift would know exactly what to do, but Tommy couldn’t take Tubbo to a hospital for villains, nor would he suggest such a thing. They didn’t know Mecha like he did, and he definitely didn’t have the money to introduce them.

His home-grown knowledge would have to do. 

Tubbo’s shirt was already beyond salvation. Tommy cut it off with their good kitchen scissors, cringing at the sight of the fully exposed crime scene. He left Tubbo for a brief moment to grab their first aid kit in the bathroom. 

Inside, he found everything else he needed. There were gloves, which he slipped on quickly, bandages, disinfectants, painkillers, and assorted other medical thingies. He hesitated upon noticing that the kit’s contents had been used before. 

The roommates bought it while moving in, and Tubbo said it was just for emergencies. Until that moment, Tommy had fully expected it to be untouched. His heart broke at the thought of his best friend secretly bandaging wounds that he would never know about.

He wet a towel and cleaned Tubbo’s injuries. Without dried blood covering his torso, old scars were visible all over him. Tommy grimaced when he cried out. The larger wounds were hard to clean without pain. Luckily, they weren’t as deep as he originally feared. 

The smell of blood burned his nose. He added disinfectant to the towel, and Tubbo groaned. Each pained noise struck Tommy’s heart directly. By the time all of the scrapes were cleaned, he was close to tears.

Tubbo didn’t react while he wrapped his wounds. Boomer taught him to properly tie bandages once, but Tommy hadn’t expected to use it. His kitchen floor was a mess of medical supplies and dried blood. 

It was difficult to pick up a completely unconscious vigilante, but Tommy managed to get Tubbo to the couch. He fell into a nearby chair, breathing heavily. His eyelids weighed down. He didn’t realize he was tired until he had already fallen asleep.

~~~~

By the time he reopened his eyes, the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. Tommy drearily stood and stumbled to the bathroom. His phone was nearly dead in his pocket, and the time read seven in the morning. 

His neck was stiff from sleeping upright, but there was little he could do about it. Tommy lamented his good night’s rest and walked back to the living room. He startled at the sight of Tubbo sitting straight up.

His roommate was running a hand over his bandages, and frantically looking around for something.

“If you’re trying to find your costume,” Tommy started. Tubbo’s eyes shot up to meet his. “I put your jacket in the sink to soak, and your goggles are on the kitchen counter. It’s gonna take a few washes to get all that blood out.”

“T-Tommy,” Tubbo stammered. “I swear it’s not what it looks like. I was cosplaying, that’s all!”

“No, you weren’t,” Tommy sighed. His roommate flinched. “I’m not that stupid.”

“Why are you so calm?” Tubbo was pale, shaking. Tommy needed to change his bandages. “Did you know?”

Mecha had been around for months. He debuted when Tommy was still a civilian. At that point in the boy’s life, he couldn’t imagine anyone around him being a hero or a villain. He knew they all had their secret identities, but his chances of encountering them were one in a million, right?

And yet, here was the person closest to him, doing the impossible.

When did he start to figure everything out? When did Tubbo’s late nights at work start catching his attention? When did his weird backpack and secretive movements spark his curiosity?

Was it the time Tubbo cried himself to sleep over an old news report? When he locked himself in his room on the day Mecha’s robots were destroyed on live television? Before then? 

Maybe he’d always sort of known.

He wasn’t stupid, as much as his bullies tried to convince him he was. He always noticed the weird happenings around him, especially the ones that revolved around his best friend. Tommy shrugged it off every time, because Tubbo hadn’t directly told him. 

Instead, he made excuses; Tubbo was secretly dating someone, working late at the garage, going for a night walk, anything besides what was really going on. He never fully convinced himself, though.

That was why he always took the extra care to record Mecha’s fights, and why he paid more attention to him and Blink, despite there being dozens of other interesting vigilantes. He possessed an unconscious fondness for them even when he denied knowing.

“Yes,” Tommy answered. “I’ve known.”

Tubbo hung his head. The blonde grabbed the bandages from the kitchen and sat next to him on the couch. Neither said a word as he replaced the rushed wrapping he’d given the night before. The scrapes looked significantly better with the few hours difference. 

Once he was certain everything was clean and covered, he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Tubbo’s head shot up. “What? Why are you apologizing?”

“If I were less stubborn, you would’ve been able to confide in me,” Tommy said. He buried his face in his hands. “You’ve been dealing with this shit alone the whole time.”

“Hey, no!” Tubbo grabbed his wrists, tugging them away so that the other boy’s guilty expression was in full view. “That’s not your fault at all. I’m the one who wanted to keep this a secret. Even when I didn’t tell you what was going on, you still took care of me!”

Tommy fell silent. Tubbo wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have the energy to accept his words. He was exhausted. There was a lot to process, and he didn’t have enough time to do it. He excused himself and made both of them some bagels. 

They were out of most of their usual toppings, so butter was the best they could do. If Tubbo was upset by this, he didn’t say anything. They didn’t speak at all until they’d both almost finished their breakfasts. 

“Why’d you do it?” Tommy knew that the awkwardness would leave faster if he got his questions out of the way. “Why’d you become a vigilante?”

Tubbo set his plate on the coffee table. “At first, I just wanted an excuse to use my power. I fucked around on the east side of town for weeks before my debut. It was really fun, and I realized how limited I was by only working on cars.”

“One day, I watched a shop getting robbed, and it took the police way too long to arrive. Two people were injured before I could bring myself to step in,” Tubbo said. His eyes were distant. “After that, I realized that the east needed some protection, and I started working on my debut.”

Tommy figured it wasn’t the right time to talk about how awesome he found said debut, with the giant robots and flashy fireworks, so he stayed quiet.

“I met Blink on patrol, and we kinda just clicked,” the brunette hummed. “He said he wanted to be a vigilante, so I helped with his debut too. That’s really all there is to it.”

“So, I guess you know his secret identity right,” Tommy said, checking his nails. He missed the way Tubbo flinched. “He must be the person you were sneaking out to go on dates with every night.”

When he received no response, he glanced up. Tubbo stared at the floor with every emotion possible playing across his face. Tommy felt twenty times as guilty. He meant it as a joke, but if some semblance of it were true, he was in deep shit.

“If he was, you know, I totally support that,” Tommy scrambled. “Be who you are and stuff like that, you know?”

Tubbo deadpanned. “What the hell are you saying? He was just my partner.”

“Yeah!” Tommy clapped his hands together. “Partner, buddy, boyfriend, I support you no matter what words you use.”

“What the fuck,” Tubbo scoffed. “We aren’t fucking dating!”

“Ah.” Tommy stopped, his expression falling. “Right. You broke up. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t miss the slight hint of annoyed amusement that flashed through Tubbo’s eyes. “You are the dumbest motherfucker I have ever met.”

Tommy wiped a fake tear, feigning hurt. “How could you say that to me? I care about my best friend’s relationships. Is that so wrong?”

Tubbo punched his arm lightly, and they both softly laughed. Tommy didn’t like how easily they fell back into silence, but it was clear his friend was debating saying something. This was their first time addressing such a major secret. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he would never fully know everything about the other.

“It was Ace,” Tubbo blurted. Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Ace attacked us the day that I came home all depressed and shit.”

“Oh,” the blonde whispered. “Is that bastard the one that broke your robots? I knew you’d hate that.”

“I did that,” Tubbo said. “I destroyed my own robots. Ace hacked them and made them attack us.”

“That’s even worse!” Tommy felt anger bubbling in his stomach.

Ace was a hero that reeked of bad vibes. He was scarred and rude. He used a modified hat as a mask, hiding his hair successfully from the media since he was licensed years ago. Tommy would bet all his money on Ace looking like a hairless cat under the mask.

A professional hero approaching two vigilantes was a strange occurrence. Tommy was surprised to hear about it. Heroes like Alien might go after them during periods of time where there was less crime to keep them busy, but Ace was closer to the Dream Team’s level.

“Blink switched sides so that Ace would call off the drones,” Tubbo admitted. “We had a huge fight about it.”

“Was that his only reason?”

“What?” Tubbo frowned. 

“That’s a pretty big decision to just make on a whim,” Tommy explained. “Did he not say anything else?”

“He said he wanted the perks of being licensed,” Tubbo choked out. Whatever had been said during this argument was clearly still affecting him. “He didn’t even listen to me when I tried to explain why it was stupid.”

Tommy curled his hands into fists. “I’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Tubbo’s face morphed from confusion to a soft smile. “I don’t think you could take him, Big T. We sparred for a while so I could teach him the basics, but he caught on so fast that it looked like he already knew everything.”

“He won’t even get close to me, Tubster,” Tommy huffed. “I’ll beat him up with my super awesome powers. I promise.”

“I appreciate it,” Tubbo snickered. “Imagining you as a superhero is really funny. It makes me feel a lot better.”

Tommy bit his lip to refrain from spilling his biggest secrets. Tubbo would never know how serious he was, and it was better that way. He would make Blink pay. 

“Oh.” Tommy snapped his fingers. “I forgot to ask why you were bleeding all over our apartment last night.”

Tubbo tensed, his smile noticeably more forced. “Ah. That. Right.” Unconsciously, he raised a hand to his bandages. Sadness filled his eyes. “I was trying to fix one of my bots. I didn’t realize that Ace added an extra measure to their programming.”

“No,” Tommy gasped.

“He added a feature that would activate their attack mode if I tried to modify them,” Tubbo confirmed. “I wasn’t prepared, so it got a few good cuts on me before I could disable it.”

Ace had done this.

Ace was the fucker who hurt Tubbo.

“I’ll kill him.” 

Tubbo nodded, paying no mind to the serious expression on Tommy’s face. 

He wanted to shout it out at that moment. He wanted to yell that he wasn’t as incapable as Tubbo thought he was. He was able to protect the people he cared about now. He had friends powerful enough to help him.

But he couldn’t. Tommy couldn’t let Tubbo know his identity. Not yet. Not ever. Telling his civilian roommate would’ve been difficult enough, but a vigilante ? 

Mecha was created by Tubbo’s urge to protect the innocent. He fought against criminals. He had a moral compass, and set goals. If he didn’t turn down Ace, he could’ve been a full-fledged hero. Tommy was his enemy, a villain apprentice. He would never approve of this choice.

Tubbo had his goals, and his reasons for starting in the first place. He did everything himself. He built his name from the ground up, and he would likely defend the east side for as long as he could. That was the kind of person his best friend was.

Tommy got lucky. He accidentally caught the attention of the Corporation. He was never anything special before that. Did he have goals? Aspirations? Motivations? Why was he a villain?

He recalled Boomer tending to his wounds, telling him about the time he’d nearly died to save a hero’s life. He remembered Hannah, whose flowers were dubbed inadequate by the agencies. He thought about Glitch and the Devil, who were too consumed in their fight to see a civilian on the verge of dying. 

He thought about Tubbo, whose partner had been stolen by a hero, and who could’ve been killed by his own drones.

Tommy made up his mind then. 

He wouldn’t tell Tubbo, because that was doomed any way he looked at it, but he needed a moral code. He was already aware that he wasn’t as evil as the typical villain, but he would have to act like it to survive around the Corporation. His code would have to be more of an unspoken rule to himself. 

Tommy made a mental note to write a list later, and returned to the present with Tubbo. The mood was somber. Ace had unknowingly made a powerful enemy by going after his best friend. Hyperion was gonna wipe the floor with him.

He just needed two weeks.

~~~~

A shorter man sneezed, adjusting his beanie. His scarred face drew attention wherever he went. The person next to him looked like his exact opposite. He was young, tall, and sweet. For each glare his companion shot, he made up for it with a kind smile. 

Despite his positive disposition, Ranboo had a sour taste in his mouth. Quackity’s excuse to parade him around town was coffee. He wished he could tuck his chin and hide his face. On the off chance anyone recognized him, even in his civilian disguise, he didn’t want to be seen with the other hero.

While the crowds happily accepted his smiles, Quackity knew full well that there was only malice behind them. He acknowledged it with a hum, “At least try to appreciate my presence.”

“I should be working right now, you know that right?” Ranboo turned a corner, leading them towards a coffee shop he’d been recommended once before. “My mom doesn’t like covering for me. Especially not for this.”

Quackity discreetly elbowed him. “This is your job, man. You don’t have time to slack off in your little froyo store anymore.”

 Ranboo dropped his smile completely and stopped walking. Quackity stumbled to avoid bumping into him. The younger’s death stare would’ve unnerved anyone else. He spoke through clenched teeth, “I don’t need your help to debut. We both know that.”

“Oh? But you needed Mecha’s help,” Quackity taunted. Ranboo winced like he’d been struck. “What happened to wanting to go on your own? What happened to sticking to the shadows? Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you left?”

Something snapped in the younger’s mind. He wanted to shout that Mecha was a better partner than Ace had ever been. He wanted to scream that the two couldn’t be compared, but he couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.

“Get your own damn coffee,” Ranboo huffed. He stormed off, focusing on his breathing and the sidewalk beneath him. He couldn’t afford a breakdown in public. Not over this. Not when Quackity was completely right.

Thankfully, the older hero hadn’t followed him. The city closest to the agency was far too loud. He needed an escape, and he knew how to get it. Ranboo dreaded the existence of the item in his pocket. He hated how efficiently his gift responded to it. Addictive was the only way to describe the feeling.

The item heated up as he pulled it out. He pinned it to his shirt, a tiny crown brooch that fit him disgustingly well. Ranboo side-stepped into an alleyway and inhaled once. What should’ve taken multiple minor teleportation attempts only took one. The feeling of free-falling filled his senses. When he exhaled next, he was standing inside of a familiar warehouse. 

The convenience of the power-enhancer both impressed and enraged him. The downtown area nearest the agency was an hour away from the east side of town. He’d covered that distance in a split second. Aside from Speedrunner or perhaps Midnight, Ranboo was the most mobile of all the gifted heroes and villains alike. 

He was infinitely more comfortable with the newfound silence. From the first moment Mecha had dragged him into the warehouse, to the last time he’d bid his partner farewell, it had been a comfort to him. 

The air was thick with rusting metal and ocean spray from the nearby ports. The walls provided privacy without being claustrophobic. Dozens of stray inventions leaned against concrete as they waited to be useful. 

Ranboo was hesitant to turn around, because he knew what he would see: Mecha’s workbench.

He’d never visited alone. The warehouse belonged to Mecha afterall. It felt strangely forbidden to be there without him, and out of costume. Ranboo knew it would become real the moment he looked over his shoulder. 

The workbench was rarely empty. Mecha was always there, always inventing. He’d mentioned a handful of times that it was hard for him to not be doing something. His was the kind of gift that never turned off. If his brain saw something with potential, his thoughts would be flooded with ways to use it in a machine.

That was one of the things that fascinated Ranboo about his partner. There was a constant pile of discarded creations beside the table. They were little, with hardly any functionality. Those were the inventions that Mecha would half-heartedly make while speaking with Blink, just to keep his hands busy. 

Ranboo shook his head, ridding himself of fond memories for a moment. He was stupid for not being able to turn around. He was weak. It was a simple action, so why was he still struggling?

He squeezed his eyes shut and whirled on his heel. One beat passed, then another. His nails dug into his palms as he forced himself to look. 

Ranboo’s face fell. 

A drone was crushed against the table and there was evidence of a struggle. What was left of the machine looked to be modified from Mecha’s usual design. It had sharpened claws at the end of its grabbers.

Claws that were covered in dried blood.

Ranboo stumbled back. His breathing quickened. The power enhancer reacted to his emotions, ready to teleport him at the first sign of a threat. The bot was clearly out of order, but he didn’t care in the slightest.

There was no doubt in his mind that the blood belonged to Mecha. The very partner he was trying to protect. The only gifted person he really cared about anymore. 

Leaving was supposed to take the spotlight off of Mecha. The heroes were after him, he knew that. To them, Mecha was an exploitable weakness. As long as Ranboo wasn’t around, he was supposed to be safe. 

This attack had Ace written all over it. That sketchy hero had a horrible tendency to destroy everything he touched. He toyed with anyone weaker than him, and used his gift to his advantage whenever he could. Ranboo wished he would disappear.

If he touched Mecha again, Ranboo would assure it.

Chapter Text

Tommy called off work so he could make sure to properly help his best friend, and he received absolutely no gratitude. Tubbo was a general nuisance, as he highly disagreed with his choice, but it was more so his calls into work that stole five years from his lifespan.

It took a lot of vague white lies to get out of his morning shift at Ender-Ice. In the past, Ranboo would’ve been able to take his shift. Without him, his mother would be opening completely alone. Mrs. Ender let him go with a tone of voice that said, “Next time you come into work, you’ll feel hell’s wrath.”

Tommy hadn’t realized that Ranboo’s violent tendencies were an inherited trait. Nor had he realized that Ranboo’s were actually tame in comparison to his mother.

Telling Wilbur was somehow worse. His mentor was so worried that he was ready to drop everything to come check on him. Tommy didn’t want to, but he was forced to admit that he wasn’t sick, his roommate was. Wil still offered to pay any medical bills, which would’ve been appreciated had Tubbo not been keeping a massive secret.

His roommate didn’t need terribly much nursing, thankfully. After the initial bandaging and cleaning of the wound, the day went smoothly. Tommy made him meals and changed the wrapping every few hours. Other than that, Tubbo could manage himself.

Tommy learned quite a bit more about Mecha and Blink than he ever expected. Tubbo had tons of stories that he obviously had been dying to tell. Like the times that Blink would answer personal phone calls while pinning down thieves. Or their weird run-in with the hero Aesthetic while he was switching between wigs.

“He said the other one didn’t have enough hairspray, so it was falling apart,” Tubbo explained, a joy in his eyes that Tommy hadn’t seen in weeks. “Blink just turned and walked away like it was something forbidden to watch.”

He also learned secrets that, as a villain, made him perk up. Tubbo let it slip that Blink could only perform minor teleportation. All those times he miraculously disappeared from the view of any news anchor, he was actually just hiding around the corner. Something like that could make or break a fight.

The next day came and went, and Mrs. Ender upheld her promise of wrath. She made him clean the machines and rearrange the freezer all before lunch time. By the end of it, he loathed the sight of frozen yogurt.

Wilbur initially went easy on him during their practice that night, but when Phil and Techno showed up, everything crashed down. Whereas his mentor fretted over him like a mother hen, the other two truly encompassed the spirit of top-tier villains. They forced him to put his all into practice.

He summoned three whole walls that session, though none of them held for long. 

Another day passed. Mrs. Ender did not let up. Wilbur returned to normal, which meant they had to continue learning hand-to-hand combat on top of Techno’s key lessons. Walls and sparring were going to be the death of him. 

By the fourth day, Tubbo was almost entirely mobile again. Tommy’s best friend had always been quick to bounce back, so it wasn’t surprising. He promised that he would be careful, and went back to work at the garage. For the time being, he was banned from acting as Mecha. Tommy wanted him to make a full recovery first.

Like that, a week passed. 

He had seven days until his debut, and everyone was stressed. Tommy would love to argue that he felt the most pressure, but Phil could hardly sit still. If he wasn’t assisting with Tommy’s lessons, he was taking phone calls and pacing.

“He’s calling in some favors,” Techno said. “Since we’re prioritizing your safety, there’s a lot of work to be done on the sidelines.”

Their monotonous schedule only brightened when Wilbur burst through the warehouse doors one evening and declared that he would teach Tommy to master the Emotion Key. It was a delightful change from the Fortitude Key.

At first, the prospect of learning his mentor’s trade was extremely exciting. It wasn’t until he held that little silver key that he realized it wasn’t going to be easy. It buzzed with an unseen energy, forcing adrenaline through his body every second he possessed it. 

Wilbur taught him to breathe deeply, and to raise his palms towards his intended target. They practiced it on Phil, who promised not to purposefully hide his emotions. “Close your eyes,” Wil instructed. The rain pattered on the warehouse roof that day. “Focus on pushing your mind forward, towards Phil.” 

Tommy did as he was told, and all of a sudden, his hands felt as though they’d been encased in gelatine. The texture was somewhere between gross and soothing. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit weird,” Wil chuckled softly. “Open your eyes and observe your target.”

Tommy cracked open one eyelid, then the next. The feeling of gelatine didn’t disappear as he feared it might, but he withheld his breath of relief. Phil smiled widely at him. It didn’t do much for his nerves.

“Good. Now, we’re going to start with the actual process of finding an emotion to manipulate,” Wilbur said. “Think of an emotion. Start with a common one that would suit Phil at this moment.”

Phil’s smile brought the word happiness to the front of Tommy’s mind. He settled on that one, but didn’t say it aloud. It felt too common. They might laugh at him.

“Got one? This is the tricky part,” his mentor continued. “Think of a few core memories in which you have felt this emotion.”

Tommy frowned a bit, confused by the prospect of his own memories being used. Still, he allowed himself to fall into nostalgia. He had several happy days with Tubbo and Ranboo. It was easier than he’d expected to find his favorites. He smiled unconsciously.

Wilbur’s voice was softer as he hummed, “What do you feel in that memory? How light is your heart? How tense are your muscles? Feel every aspect of that past again.”

Tubbo was laughing over their burnt dinner. Ranboo was keeping him company by the register. Two separate memories, equally as important. He could almost sigh at the thought. His shoulders rolled back. 

“You’re doing great. All you need to do now is take those feelings and send them to the tips of your fingers.” Wilbur was practically whispering, as if he were scared to break his apprentice’s focus. 

Tommy exhaled, sending the happiness through his veins, imagining the tingling of energy was following his will, all the way to his hands. It buzzed there, quite literally, and the gelatine feeling dissipated. He tensed, worried he’d fucked up, but Phil was smiling fondly. 

“You did it!” He gasped as Wilbur tackled him to the ground in a hug. “I don’t care if you didn’t hold it for long! You did it!”

“It was happiness, judging by the feeling,” Phil added. “Good job, mate.”

Tommy blushed, overwhelmed by compliments. Receiving praise from adults was something he was still adjusting too. Every word from them made him want to curl up and die in the best way possible.

Happiness was the easiest emotion to master, he found out. During their lessons, he could only manage that one, despite hours of focusing. Phil was totally fine with that. He wouldn’t complain about good vibes all day every day. Tommy, however, started to get frustrated. 

At one point, he disregarded Wilbur’s warnings and tried to force an emotion. He was told multiple times that the key wouldn’t work if the target didn’t possess the emotion he was channeling, but lessons needed to be learned through experience.

He tried anger. He remembered abusive foster parents, rude bullies, and bruised ribs. Phil showed no signs of discomfort. The gelatine feeling on his hands grew thicker, as if preventing the emotion from leaving his palms. It climbed up his arms, weighing him down with his own negative emotions. 

Tommy strained, but eventually, he was forced to release. He hated the understanding look on Wilbur’s face. The look that held a slight bit of nostalgia. The look that said, “I’ve tried that more times than you can count, and I’ve grown since then.” 

The after-effects of failure stuck with him for the rest of the night. Turns out Wil’s key liked to play a funky little prank where the emotion backfires on the user. Tubbo asked him multiple times why he was so grumpy, but he could only say, “Hard day at work.”

After that, Techno volunteered to be the test subject. He was slightly harder, since Tommy pictured him as more of a void for emotion than anything else. That was the first time he considered using Icarus’ tactics.

“So,” Tommy started. Techno raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You catch that game yesterday?”

Talking while maintaining focus was more difficult than he’d expected. Wilbur frequently used speech to influence his opponents’ emotions. With each new thing he learned, he found his mentor to be more and more impressive.

“Tommy, I need you to repeat what you just said,” Techno sighed. “But look deep into my eyes. Do I look like a sports guy to you?”

“Yes,” Tommy spoke without hesitation. 

“Well, I’m not.” Techno leaned back and crossed his arms. He looked bored, despite having just begun.

“You look like it,” Tommy insisted. “You look like you go to sports bars just to feel something again.”

Techno scoffed, “What could I possibly gain from a sports bar?”

“I dunno. Beer? Adrenaline? Friends?” Tommy pretended to scan him with his most judgemental eyes. “You look like you really need all three.”

Wilbur barked a laugh, which only served to dig Tommy’s comment deeper. Techno glared at him for a second, before inhaling deeply. If the apprentice wanted his plan to succeed, he needed to act fast.

Quickly, he channeled any memories he could find; Conversations that wouldn’t end, loud chewing noises, too bright lights, and unbearable foster siblings. He pushed the feeling to his finger tips, and nearly grinned when Techno’s face contorted.

“Oh no,” he groaned. “Wil, get your kid. He managed a negative emotion.”

“Really?” Wilbur sounded fucking delighted. “Which one?”

“Annoyance,” Tommy chirped happily. “All I had to do was think about your shit driving and it worked.”

“Yeah, piss off,” Wilbur chuckled, lightly slapping the back of his apprentice’s head.

The gelatine feeling on his hands grew thicker by the second, and Tommy finally remembered that he was still using his power. He dropped it, causing his victim to let out a sigh of relief. Techno appeared ready to bash his head into a wall. 

“You are so lucky we have an important meeting later,” Techno huffed. “Or I’d make you regret that.”

“What meeting?” Tommy wiped sweat from his brow, suddenly out of breath. The stress of the keys always seemed to catch up to him a few minutes after using them. It was never anything terrible, so long as he followed the correct steps to use them, but it was tiring.

“Oh!” Wilbur perked up. “Remember when I told you that Craft & Co was hopefully going to secure a deal with the hero agency?”

It seemed like years ago, but Tommy vaguely recalled being told about it. Glass capitalism wasn’t constantly on the front of his mind, so he was almost shocked all over again. 

“We had an initial meeting with them a while back,” Techno said. “It was just the board of old people. They tried to buy Phil’s glass recipe for fifteen million. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Fifteen million dollars?” Tommy shrieked. 

“Yeah, only fifteen million,” Wilbur snorted. “Those disrespectful bastards.”

“What? You didn’t sell it to them?” Tommy felt weak. “Why the fuck not?”

“Phil’s recipe is one of a kind,” Techno elaborated. “They might buy the recipe once, but then they’ll never buy from us again. They’ll have that recipe, so they’ll start to manufacture their own thing. Suddenly, our name has nothing to do with the glass. It's just the hero agency’s new toy.”

“A one time purchase is ultimately much less profitable than what would happen if we just provided everything for them,” Wilbur cut in. “If they really wanted to buy our recipe, Phil wouldn’t take anything below a billion.”

“Oh my fuck,” Tommy gasped. 

“This would be a good learning opportunity for you,” Techno said. “I know Wil discussed it with you before, but how would you like to join us for this?”

“Uh,” Tommy stammered. “Yeah, sure. Do I have time to run home for a shower, though?”

“Of course,” Wilbur said. He took his key back from Tommy and headed for the door. “We’ll end early today. The meeting’s later tonight, so you’ll be able to get changed without much rush. The heroes like to operate in the darkness.”

“Very cliche,” Techno huffed. “Don’t be late.”

They said their goodbyes and Wilbur drove Tommy home. He parked the car outside and the apprentice ran to his apartment. Tubbo was attempting his summer reading at the kitchen table. It was a painful process he went through every year, as the school refused to acknowledge his dyslexia. Tommy could hear him sounding out each word from the shower. 

Picking out fancy clothes was difficult. He had dress shirts, but was this about to require a suit? He didn’t have one of those. He sent a text to Wilbur asking him. He received a response alarmingly fast.

Nugget Man: I’m coming up to help.

Tommy didn’t have time to process the message before there was a knock on his door. Tubbo beat him to it, and it swung open to reveal his mentor. The guy, who was abnormally tall anyway, looked squished in their hallway. 

“How did you know which apartment was mine,” Tommy guffawed. 

“I am one of the most important people in the city,” Wilbur scoffed. “Personal information is the easiest thing for me to find.”

Tubbo was baffled for the entire interaction. “Uh, Toms,” he whispered. “Do you need me to call the police?”

“No,” Tommy responded. “It’s just my boss.”

“Aw,” Wilbur cooed. “You think of me as your boss? Does that mean you should start calling me sir?”

Tommy deadpanned. “I’ve changed my mind, Tubbo. Call the police.”

“Right away.” Tubbo turned to leave. Wilbur caught his sleeve.

“Please don’t! I’m sorry.” Seeing a grown man slump like that brightened Tommy’s day considerably. He recalled at that moment why exactly Tubbo was his best friend. There was no one quite so in sync with him in the known world.

Eventually, Tommy stopped threatening to arrest his mentor and led him to the closet. Wilbur, with skeptical eyes that said, “I know what I’m doing and you don’t,” scanned his entire wardrobe. He picked out black dress pants and a red button-up that Tommy almost never wore.

Red wasn’t a good color for job interviews or social events. He found it drove people away subconsciously. It was his favorite color, so of course he owned every version of his shirts in red, but the fancy ones so rarely were used. It was especially surprising considering they were going into a business deal. Didn’t they want to look appealing?

“The color will keep them from overlooking you,” his mentor explained. “It’ll also keep you from looking weird.”

The wording stuck out to him, but he was given no more elaboration. Wilbur left the apartment and went back to his car. Tommy didn’t argue, deciding only to shoot him a glare, and put on his outfit.

~~~~

At first, he wasn’t entirely sure why Wilbur would give him such an abnormal shirt. It wasn’t until the second they stepped into the hero agency that he understood. Besides the regular workers and civilians mulling about, various superheroes strolled as if they owned the place. Although, he supposed they did.

Their costumes were crazy and strange, but each one suited the person and their power. If he’d gone with a regular white shirt, he would’ve matched the walls more than the people. Wilbur assured him the meeting room would be even worse. It did little to calm his nerves.

“What should I expect,” he asked Phil once the four had gotten halfway through the lobby. “Is this just going to be another meeting with old white guys?”

Phil didn’t respond, just continuing to walk forward. Tommy frowned at his glazed over eyes and his small smile. Techno butted in, “Don’t mind him. He’s just got a crush.”

“What?” Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting. Phil snapped back to reality just long enough to glare at his son. “Who is it? Who is Phil madly in love with?”

They stopped at the reception desk. Phil cleared his throat and straightened his shirt, suddenly looking more nervous than he’d ever been before. Tommy glanced at the receptionist, expecting someone intimidating, someone capable of earning such a reaction from the great Midnight. 

Instead, he saw the sweetest woman ever.

She was wearing a black turtleneck and a smile that made Tommy feel safe. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun and kept in place by a tiny hat barrette. Her name tag read Kristin. It clicked in Tommy’s head, a mischievous grin lifting onto his face. Wilbur shared his thoughts, practically copying his expression. Techno remained stoic, but he nudged Tommy.

“Hello,” the woman behind the desk greeted. “Do you have an appointment with us today?”

“Uh,” Phil stammered. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

Kristin raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What’s your name?”

“Phil,” he said. Tommy wanted to slap him. “Phil Craft.”

“Oh! You’re the CEO of that glass company,” Kristin gasped. “I didn’t know you were a celebrity! That explains why you’re so well dressed.”

Phil was blushing so fucking hard.

“And who’s with you today,” Kristin continued, typing something into her computer. 

“My sons and our assistant,” Phil answered quickly. Tommy noticed Kristin’s posture stiffen a bit. Was that a flash of disappointment in her eyes?

“I see,” she said. “I have heard it was a family company. I assume your wife’s got things handled back at the office.”

“Oh, he’s not married,” Techno cut in. “We’re adopted.”

Tommy gaped. Techno’s stoicism had been exchanged for a small smirk. That fucker knew something. Kristin sat up straighter, her eyes slightly widening. Phil was a mess at this point.

“Ah, a single father,” she murmured, before catching herself. “I apologize for prying. I’ll let them know you’re on your way.”

She held up her hand. To the entire group’s surprise, a crow landed on her palm. It was shiny, and well cared for. She brought it close to her and whispered something. It chirped, its voice scratchy, and took flight again. They watched it flap out an open window and go up.

“What was that,” Phil muttered in amazement. 

“Nothing special,” the receptionist answered, though it was clear she was happy to share. “Just my gift. I can send messages via crows. They repeat whatever I say back perfectly to whomever I want.”

“Incredible,” Phil wondered. “That’s an astounding way to protect messages. No villain would expect you to use messenger birds. You’ve got one hell of a talent.”

Kristin snorted a little, “Tell that to my superiors. They value me as much as any other employee with a degree in communications, which is not at all.”

Tommy flinched at that. Her comment reminded him of Hannah, whose abilities as Eden were unmatched. They threw her away without a second thought, and it seemed like she wasn’t the only one. Someone with a distinctly useful gift like Kristin should’ve been hero material at the very least.

The bird returned, landing atop her head. She fed it a cracker and it buzzed off to do whatever crows do in an office building. Tommy set a new, secret goal for himself: to pet one of those.

“I’ve kept you for too long. Go to the third elevator on your right, then head to the thirtieth floor.” She handed Phil a card. “Scan that and it’ll let you in. It’s just a temporary pass, of course, so come give it back to me when you’re done.”

They said their goodbyes and followed her directions. Once the elevator doors closed, they were alone. That was when Phil was bombarded.

“You like a hero receptionist? Are you crazy,” Tommy shouted. Techno put a hand over his mouth and pointed to the corner. A camera stared down at them. He nodded and the older man pulled his hand away. “She seems nice, though. I approve.”

“Shut up,” Phil groaned, hanging his head. His ears were still red. “I don’t need to hear that from a literal child.”

“She definitely likes you too,” Techno said. The other three whipped to face him. He was smiling. “If you don’t believe me, look at the card she gave you.”

Phil glanced down at it, Tommy and Wilbur clambering to glance over his shoulder. They didn’t notice anything especially unique about it. It was exactly as Kristin said, a temporary pass. 

“She said to take it back to her when we were done, but the thing has a time limit.” Techno pointed to a few tiny letters scribbled onto the bottom. “It’s only useful for a little bit, and it’s meant to be recycled afterwards.”

“So,” Wilbur hummed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Are you an idiot? Obviously this is just an excuse for her to see him again. Did you not see how happy she was to find out he was single? Are you that blind?” Techno scoffed, “Seriously?”

Phil looked ready to collapse, his chest heaving with each breath. He was down bad. The elevator doors dinged open, and they were forced to stop bullying the CEO. Wilbur fussed over Tommy’s collar and they stepped out. 

The room they entered was a fairly basic lobby-type area. There was a small snack bar, but as Wil had trained him in the car, they were not allowed to grab any. Eating while in a meeting would make their company look less professional.

Tommy fixed his posture. From this point on, he was representing Craft & Co. He couldn’t allow his personal flaws to let them down. 

There were two giant wooden doors in front of them. Behind them, he heard a handful of voices arguing with each other. He glanced at Phil, and was surprised to see him completely composed. It was impressive how quickly he had switched to work mode.

Phil walked to the doors and shoved them open.

Oh.

Tommy blinked.

So they were going in just like that?

Okay.

“Mr. Craft,” a large voice rejoiced. “How nice of you to join us!”

Tommy remembered what he’d been taught, and didn’t survey the room as they walked in. Wilbur said it would make them look better if they acted like they didn’t care.

Still following instructions, he stood behind Wilbur’s chair on his right side. Assistants didn’t sit. Still, he kept his eyes trained on the wall. It wasn’t until Phil, Techno, and Wilbur were all seated that he was allowed to look up. He bit back a shocked gasp at the company across the table. 

Besides an old business man at the head, everyone else in the room was a hero in full costume.

Sitting closest to the businessman was Glitch in the flesh. He looked bored, as if he were dragged to the meeting against his will. His slouched posture and grumpy expression made Tommy feel better about himself. He knew he didn’t look like that.

Next to the famous healer was Alien. His signature purple hoodie felt too casual for a meeting with a CEO, but the young hero had attached a clip-on purple bowtie to complete it. It was probably a tiny act of rebellion against higher-ups who insisted he dress well. Tommy almost smiled.

Every good feeling he had dropped at the sight of the next hero. 

Ace.

Tommy’s face twisted with disgust before he could stop it. Once he noticed, he returned to a casual deadpan. It wasn’t more than a split second, but he felt eyes on him. If it weren’t for that feeling, he would’ve leapt across the table to beat the shit out of the person who injured his best friend.

The feeling of staring got stronger and stronger, until he couldn’t resist the urge to check for the source. As if his situation couldn’t get any worse, there was Blink. 

Blink didn’t pain him as much as Ace, but his very presence was irritating. He was dressed exactly as he appeared on the news. His white suit was pressed to perfection, and overly posh for the occasion. Barely visible due to his stupid mop of hair, was a voice changer in his ear. Anger bubbled in his stomach, as he was certain he’d seen his roommate building something identical before.

Perhaps the most uncomfortable thing about the entire situation was that every hero in that room had slowly shifted their focus onto him. Ace leaned over and whispered something to Alien.

“Who’s this,” Glitch said. “I thought Mr. CEO here only had two kids.”

Phil cleared his throat, a customer-service smile growing on his face. “This is Wilbur’s new assistant. He won’t be interfering with the meeting, so I suggest we get on with things.”

“Right,” the businessman at the front prompted. Compared to everyone else, he had significantly less presence. Maybe it was because Tommy was used to hanging with villains, but normal capitalists were barely intimidating anymore. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Craft and associates.”

They instantly started into the boring introductory talk. The majority of it meant nothing to Tommy. He forced himself to focus on it, if only to rid himself of the stares that were boring into his soul. For some reason, Blink would not look away. 

“During our last meeting, we discussed the purchasing of your famous recipe.” The businessman cleared his throat, “I was hoping we could revisit that idea. We’re offering fifteen million, give or take.”

Tommy recalled what he’d been told by his mentor. Judging by the roll of Phil’s shoulders, he was preparing to combat it.

 “Perhaps you weren’t entirely aware of how that offer worked last time, sir,” Phil started. His voice was layered with honey. “I cannot accept such an obvious jab at my business sense.”

“I assure you, we mean no such thing,” Glitch said, as if his words alone could change the other’s mind. “We just need to assure the safety of the agency.”

“And we assure you, we know better,” Wilbur cut in. Tommy blinked, but tried not to show his surprise. “One office building downtown pays us twice that amount to install the glass ourselves. For a product so revolutionary, only fifteen million would topple our company.”

“Furthermore, who’s to say your agency can be trusted with it?” Techno’s voice came clearly and distinctly. “If we sold it to you once, that recipe would be permanently within your agency’s archives. You would never need to pay us again to replace a window, and you could pass it off to anyone you wanted.”

The businessman was not as in-tune with his facial expressions as Tommy, and his mouth began to turn downwards in displeasure. Still, he made another attempt, “We’ll negotiate for 17 million.”

Phil folded his hands on the table and grinned. “I was thinking somewhere closer to 5 billion as the starting price. What do you boys think?”

Wilbur and Techno nodded, mumbling along as if it were a discount price. The gathered heroes sat up, shock written plainly in their expressions. 

“I see,” the businessman huffed. “Well, since this effort shows no signs of fruition, shall we move on?”

Coward.

Tommy nearly smiled. 

“Now, hold on,” Glitch chimed in. “I can’t agree with this! It’s crazy!”

Tommy wanted to slap him.

“We’d be allowing unknown workers onto our grounds every day,” the healer pointed out. “It would be easy for a villain to grab hold of our top secret information.”

“Are you calling us villains, Glitch,” Phil said. “I’m sure you guys have countermeasures for this exact scenario. Why not use those to insure your agency’s safety?”

“What are you implying?” Glitch leaned back in his chair. The businessman was growing more and more fidgety. The agency needed this deal as much as Craft & Co. 

“Nothing at all,” Phil replied. He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just certain that the heads of your agency have vaults for this exact reason. For the duration of our installation process, leave your top secret files and equipment there. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“How long, exactly?” The businessman’s voice shook. “How long do you estimate it taking?”

“Looking at the size of the building,” Techno said. “A week and a half maximum. If we start now, we could have one half of the building’s windows entirely replaced before your new star’s debut.”

Tommy met eyes with Blink briefly. 

“I like that idea.”

Tommy tensed.

Ace stretched, his golden tooth gleaming with his grin. “It’s a good offer, don’t you think?”

“Yes, exactly,” Techno agreed nonchalantly. 

“Plus,” Ace continued. “If anything goes wrong, then we know who to blame. Don’t we?”

It was an obvious threat. If used on any other company, it might’ve worked. 

“That is precisely my point,” Phil chuckled. That man was crazy for laughing in the face of danger. “Thank you, sir.”

Ace stood, drawing all eyes to him. “Then, I think that’s all I’m needed for,” he declared. “I’ll be on my way.”

The businessman’s jaw dropped, and he looked like he wanted to argue.

“This seems like the right time for a brief recess,” Wilbur said before Ace could actually move towards the door. The old man violently agreed. They filed out into the lobby, Ace disappearing into the elevators with Alien chasing after him. The elevator doors closed in his face, so he relented to sit in a nearby chair instead. 

“We’re likely going to reconvene in five minutes, with or without Ace,” Wilbur said. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Phil and Techno are going to keep sweet-talking the old guy. Just don’t fuck anything up.”

With that bid of good faith, he was gone. 

Tommy sighed as he grabbed a granola bar from the snack table. It was foolish for him to believe his annoyances wouldn’t follow him. He wasn’t even given a second to breathe before he was ambushed from behind. A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

He turned and barely stopped a glare at the sight of Blink. Standing next to him felt weirdly normal. He was tall, but Tommy wasn’t as creeped out by it as he should’ve been. He was used to Ranboo and Wilbur towering over him. Perhaps that was why.

“What do you want?” He flinched at the venom in his voice. 

Blink pulled his hand away like he’d been burned. “Nothing. I don’t want anything.”

His voice changer was off-putting. Tommy didn’t want to deal with this. Blink was someone who was capable of making his best friend lock himself in his room for days. That wasn’t a motherfucker he wanted to trifle with, especially not when his mentor’s company name was on the line.

“I was just wondering something,” Blink continued, obviously not getting the fucking hint. “Aren’t you really young to be an assistant for such a big company? Don’t they usually hire college students for positions like yours?”

Tommy fumed, “I don’t think that’s any of your business, buddy.”

Blink winced again. “Uh, sorry.” He retracted a bit, but still didn’t leave. “I saw you earlier looking at Ace.”

Tommy froze.

“You looked like you wanted to kill him with your eyes,” Blink laughed nervously.

What did he want? Did he suspect Tommy? Did he say something incriminating? Should he run away and find Wilbur? Should he demand to see a lawyer? What the fuck was the right call here? There were bottles of water on the table. Should he splash Blink and run?

“I respect that.”

What?

“Excuse me,” Tommy gaped. 

“I respect that you don’t like him,” Blink repeated. His shoulders had lowered, a sign that he was becoming more comfortable. “He’s abhorred. Exactly like you see on TV. I can’t stand him.”

“Wait, but isn’t he the one who recruited you? Why would you hate him,” Tommy wondered without thinking. 

Blink tensed. “How do you know that?”

Oh fuck.

“Recess is over,” Phil called to Tommy. The blonde used the chance to escape, but he was inwardly cursing the whole time. “What were you two talking about?”

“Absolutely nothing good,” Tommy whispered back. The meeting returned exactly as it had been before, but Ace was still missing. Wilbur smiled at his empty chair. Tommy could practically hear him calling the heroes childish already.

The businessman cleared his throat, “Alright. After some further consideration, we’ve concluded that we’ll drop the talk of buying the recipe.”

They went on to have the boring meeting that Tommy had expected. He zoned out for a lot of the more technical bits, given he understood none of what was happening. The only thing that kept him from truly sinking into his mind were the stares directed at him.

That’s right. Plural. Multiple stares.

As if Blink wasn’t enough, now Alien was fascinated with Tommy. For the first time in his life, Tommy felt popular, and he fucking hated it. He was thankful that Glitch didn’t give half a shit about anyone in that room. 

It was more evident that the heroes were there as an intimidation tactic than anything else, because they knew fuck-all about glass. If Glitch even dared to chime in, one of the Craft & Co members would shut him down. The businessman was the only one they treated as a semi-equal. Villains were really good at being capitalists.

It was thirty minutes later when the businessman said, “Alright! I think we could all do with another recess. Let’s do ten minutes this time.”

Tommy’s legs ached from standing, but his brain twisted more at the thought of talking to Blink again. Almost instantly, his three human shields abandoned him to sweet talk the businessman. Their jobs never ended. 

He watched in horror as Blink immediately started towards him. Suddenly, his arm was yanked backwards, and he was forced to sit in a chair by the wall. Tommy looked around frantically for the source. Alien nodded at him.

“Uh,” Tommy murmured. “Do you need something?”

“You looked like you didn’t want to talk to him,” Alien responded. To Tommy’s surprise, his voice was normal . No voice changer. He sounded really young. He must’ve seen the look on the other’s face, because he said, “I don’t wear it when I’m not on the job. It’s stupid.”

“Oh,” Tommy replied. He cursed himself for his half-assed attempt at speech. He glanced over at Blink, and sure enough, the hero was keeping his distance. Maybe Alien was better than he thought. “Why are you helping me?”

“Blink’s weird,” Alien said. “So is everyone else here. Especially your boss.”

“My boss? You mean Wilbur?” Tommy tilted his head in confusion. “He’s a cool dude once you get to know him.”

“He reminds me of Ace.” Alien shoved his hands into his pockets. It was strange not being able to read someone’s facial expressions during a conversation. Even Midnight had body language, but this guy gave off absolutely nothing. His mask that covered his entire head must’ve been suffocating in summer time.

“You think he’s weird because of Ace? Do you not like Ace or something,” Tommy asked. His question was probably a bit personal, but he felt more comfortable asking Alien over anyone else. 

Alien shrugged. “Technically, I’m his side-kick.”

“Technically?”

“He’s got a few people he calls side-kicks. I think it’s just so he can keep his minions close to him,” Alien said. “He’s an asshole to all of us. Blink’s the one he keeps closest nowadays, which is why I avoid him.”

“Haven’t you two fought before? You and Blink, I mean,” Tommy recalled. He had that recording somewhere. 

“That didn’t count,” Alien hummed. “I was delivering a message for Ace. The fight was to keep the newscasters busy. The boss told me to hold back. Blink and his little partner couldn’t keep up with me at full power.”

It was strange to hear Mecha talked about by someone else. He wasn’t fond of the fact that Alien considered Tubbo to be Blink’s partner and not the other way around. His best friend was clearly the mastermind. The only reason Blink was becoming a dumb hero was because of Tubbo’s idea for his debut. 

“Why are you telling me this,” Tommy wondered. “Isn’t it classified information?”

Alien stood, but stayed in one place. “No one will believe you. You’re just an assistant.”

“Ah,” the other sighed. Alien was so horribly wrong. “That’s a valid point.”

“And you’re bearable.”

“What?” Tommy’s eyes widened.

“I prefer you over every other dirtbag in the room. We’re in the same position.” Alien stretched, a long, lazy movement. “Being held back by the people who claim they’ll give us a boost in the world. We’re pitiful.”

Tommy bit his lip. He couldn’t tell Alien that he was sorely mistaken. The whole conversation felt oddly personal, especially as a soon-to-be-villain. 

“We should get lunch sometime.”

Fucking pardon?

“Excuse me?” He wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” Alien cracked his knuckles half-hazardly. “Obviously I won’t go in fucking hero attire, if that’s why you’re so scared.” 

“ What ,” Tommy nearly shouted. He lowered his voice quickly. “Wouldn’t that mean I’d see your secret identity?”

Alien’s masked face blankly stared down at him. Tommy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The hero sighed, “Yes. I didn’t think you were that stupid. I don’t really care. You’re just an errand boy for that Wilbur guy anyway.”

“You don’t have many friends,” Tommy blurted. “Do you?”

Alien sputtered, “What? The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Why else would you jump at the first passive person your age? I’ve not given you any reasons to like me.” He clamped his mouth shut at the sight of Alien’s hands curling into fists. “Sorry.”

“The break is over,” Phil called from across the room. Instead of sprinting away as he had with Blink, Tommy hesitated. Alien grabbed his wrist and yanked him to his feet. He gave him a hard shove in the direction of the meeting room. 

“Call me,” was all Alien said. Tommy watched him walk to the elevators and disappear. He frowned, confused as to how he might contact a professional hero. He heard a crinkle in his pocket. 

It turned out to be a piece of paper with a phone number written in sloppy handwriting. He wasn’t entirely sure when it got there, but he returned to his post in the meeting room nevertheless. There was one more empty chair. The businessman hopped back into the boring shit, but Tommy was hardly present.

Alien wanted to be his friend? As civilians? 

What a strange day.

He didn’t notice Blink’s slouched posture.

The meeting ended not too long later. The result was exactly as his mentor had wanted it to be. They would be installing the glass themselves, and the hero agency would just have to deal with it. With his three bosses around him again, Tommy didn’t have to worry about talking to Blink again. 

The hero looked like a kicked puppy.

The elevator doors separated them, and Tommy nearly collapsed against Wilbur.

“Woah,” the brunette laughed. “Someone’s exhausted.”

“And that was one of the more exciting meetings, too,” Techno whistled. “Imagine how bored he’ll be at a regular one.”

“It’s not that,” Tommy gasped. “Those damn heroes are so pushy.”

“I saw them talking to you.” Phil hummed along to the elevator music. “Are you alright, mate?”

“Blink and Alien hate Ace.”

Three pairs of eyes shot to him. 

“Don’t ask me why,” Tommy said. “They both spilled their guts to me without any prompting. Said he was a right asshole.”

“They’d be correct,” Phil grumbled. “Fearless motherfucker.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “What’s got your feathers in a bunch, Big P?”

“A few years ago, Ace picked a fight with Fortress. Tried to kidnap him as ransom for Midnight and Icarus,” Techno said. Tommy couldn’t figure out why he was talking in the third person until he remembered the cameras. “Everyone’s found him sketchy since then. Fortress was still a kid at that point, supervillain or not, so the morals of the hero agency were a huge topic of debate for a while.”

“What happened? How did Fortress get free again,” Tommy asked. 

“The key word was tried ,” Wilbur answered. “He tried to kidnap Fortress, and ended up with the scars you see today.”

Tommy set a mental reminder not to separate a family of supervillains.

Very upsetting. His weekend plans were ruined.

Phil looked like he was trying not to explode from rage. Clearly, it was still a touchy subject for him. Tommy hadn’t really thought about how much self-control the other three must’ve been exhibiting during the meeting. He had his own problems with each of the heroes, but none of them were because of a one-on-one experience. 

If he could hate Ace so strongly based on the one time he indirectly hurt Tubbo, then Phil could probably justify killing him. 

The older man calmed himself a moment later, but Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about it. Techno was Phil’s son and Wilbur’s brother. Those were two powerful enemies. Ace’s scars were known to be grotesque. Now that he knew their origins, Tommy had more of a reason to hate the guy.

Once they stepped off the elevator, he forced himself back to the present. There was still one very important thing they had to do. Tommy grinned.

“Hello,” Phil choked out. Kristin turned with a smile. “We’re here to return the pass you gave us.”

“The pass?” A flash of confusion whirled over her face, but something occurred to her, and she bounced back. “Oh, yes! The pass!”

She took it from Phil’s extended hand, letting their fingertips brush. Since Techno had pointed out her likely-requited feelings, Tommy was able to notice the light flush on cheeks. Kristin was equally as unsubtle as Phil. 

Ah, elderly love. Adorable.

“Uh, thank you,” Phil said. “We’ll see you next time.”

“Next time?” Kristin perked up. “I take it the deal went well?”

It was strange to see a receptionist and a world-class CEO flirting. Tommy wasn’t sure if their conversations bored or intrigued him.

“It did,” Phil responded enthusiastically. “Our workers will start tomorrow, if I’m not wrong.”

“That’s so cool,” Kristin exhaled. “I’m excited for the extra protection. I cannot tell you how many times we’ve had guys like Midnight crashing through while I’m on shift.”

Phil froze. Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy shared nervous glances. 

“I wish it were appropriate to get autographs for some of those guys,” Kristin sighed wistfully. “Just between us, seeing the villains is a refreshing change from all these heroes.”

“I imagine they would,” Phil chuckled sheepishly, and they all breathed their relief. The conversation seemed to die off, neither quite sure of what to say next. Tommy couldn’t stand for it. 

“You probably could get his autograph,” he chirped. Kristin moved her hopeful gaze onto him. “As long as you don’t get too close, most of those guys are decent enough to oblige. Your crows could do that easily!”

“How do you know this, exactly,” Kristin inquired. In her tone, he sensed a hint of worry. He needed an alibi quickly.

“I got Fortress to sign my yearbook once,” he said. Techno coughed in surprise. “I threw a brick with my book and a pen attached. Next thing I knew, I was the coolest kid in my school.”

“No way,” Kristin gasped, leaning forward. “Are you for real?”

“Totally,” Wilbur cut in. “I’ve seen it. He attached it to his resume like it was some sort of award.”

Lies.

All of these were lies.

And yet Tommy still blushed bright red. This had to be slander, or defamation. He could sue. He needed to call his uncle and ask for a lawyer. Was he old enough for his own lawyer? Were there age limits on stuff like that?

Kristin started to cackle, and all four of them were content. “Fine, then,” she said in between laughs. “I’ll consider it.”

“Who’s your favorite supervillain?” Tommy tried to channel all of his childlike innocence into the question. “Mine’s Icarus.”

He was never going to hear the end of that, but he really needed her reply.

“Oh, that’s a hard one,” Kristin muttered to herself. “I’m not supposed to like any of them, but the Corporation is such a cool group. All their outfits and unknown powers!”

“Yeah, but who’s your favorite? ” Tommy was practically begging for her to say it.

“Out of the three?” She held a finger to her chin in contemplation. “Midnight. His wings and his veil are so cool.”

Phil was going to combust. 

“Alright, well,” Wilbur urged. “We’ve kept you long enough. Say goodbye to your new friend, Tommy, we have another meeting in thirty minutes.”

“Shame,” Tommy sighed. “Goodbye, Big K!”

“Bye, Tommy,” Kristin laughed. “Bye Mr. Craft!”

Phil waved a hand, but his voice wouldn’t come to him. His sons helped lead him away before he could make a bigger fool of himself. The second they were in the confines of their car, they were mocking him again.

While the meeting itself was an absolute mess, Tommy was able to find quite a few good points. He didn’t regret going, not by a long shot. As the cherry on top to his twister of a day, he finally got a text from Ranboo after weeks of not answering.

Ranboss: Sorry for not saying anything. Mom told me you’ve been doing really well at work. I miss helping you during your shifts a lot, but I found a new job and the pay is insane. 

Tommy replied instantly, asking about the job and how his friend was feeling. He would’ve killed to see Ranboo right then. 

Ranboss: I’m just a glorified coffee boy, but I’m gonna work my way up. I’ll try to time my days off with your shift so we can see each other. 

The day of his debut drew nearer with each passing second, but Tommy still took the time to smile at his phone, and think of his favorite frozen yogurt shop. He was going to fight to avenge Tubbo, Boomer, Hannah, Kristin, everyone the heroes hurt. Only one more week.

The day of his debut drew nearer, and Tommy couldn’t wait.

Chapter Text

The sun rose higher above the city skyline. It cast its regular rays into Tommy’s window, but for once, no one was there to complain. He was already long gone, a mysterious backpack in hand. Summer was chilly in the morning, so he donned his usual red hoodie.

Cars buzzed past every now and again, but the streets were otherwise empty. There was no reason to be awake, not on a day like that. Rest was necessary for any who wanted to truly enjoy the afternoon’s promises. Most businesses were closed, lights off and chairs up on tables. Ender-Ice was no exception. 

Throughout all the rows of closed shops, Tommy knew there’d be only one open sign. The bell jingled as he entered. A pleasant voice called from behind the desk, “Welcome to the Captain’s Laundromat.”

Tommy paused by the door, grinning and waiting for Puffy to notice him. It didn’t take her long. 

“Oh my goodness,” she huffed, her own bright smile growing on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you today!”

“I know it’s a bit early, but I didn’t have work,” Tommy answered bashfully. He hoped she wouldn’t question why he was without his usual laundry basket. “Thought I’d stop by.”

“Are you excited?” She leaned over the desk like a parent wanting to know about her kid’s day. She easily reminded him of why she was one of his favorite people. “We don’t get events like this very often.”

“Of course,” Tommy said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’m getting some folks together to watch it at my house,” Puffy replied. “If you want to join, I imagine my TV’s a bit bigger than yours.”

“Don’t doubt the power of my uncle’s income,” Tommy scoffed, feigning hurt.

“Right, right,” Puffy laughed. “You’re a little freeloader. Forgot about that.”

He crossed his arms, letting his face fall into a grumpy frown. “I am absolutely not! I have a job! Two, actually!”

“The internship doesn’t count. That’s still just you leaching off rich people,” Puffy pointed out. She stretched lazily. “Speaking of which, I heard from Phil that you guys signed a deal with the hero agency. Good job, man. That must’ve been one hell of a meeting.”

Tommy recalled the intense feeling of being watched from behind a mask. He left that day with infinitely more questions, and an inexplicable piece of paper in his pocket. It was a contact he added to his phone, but didn’t dare to message. 

“It was,” he confirmed. “Glitch is a whiny little baby, though.”

“I’ve heard that, yeah,” Puffy sympathized. “He’s the agency’s sweetheart.”

“Really?” Tommy hummed. It made sense. “He acts like it.”

“I guess it’s because he’s a majorly impressive healer, but there’s no excuse for being rude,” she grumbled. Tommy smiled at how casually she could diss a public figure. There were fans that would fight her over such a statement. “I won’t keep you for much longer. I’m sure Craft & Co is loading you with work despite the festivities.”

Puffy would never know how true that was.

Tommy bid her adieu and stepped outside. Wilbur waited for him on the street corner. Together, they made the brief trek to Eret’s clothing store. From the front, it appeared closed, but Wil led them to the back door. It was unlocked, and behind it, Eret waited with a grin. 

“Big day,” they said. “How’s your nerves?”

“I’m trying not to think about it too much,” Tommy replied. “Going through the motions kinda numbly, ya know?”

“I get that. I was the same way,” Eret laughed. “You’re very lucky to have the Corporation behind you. I had to plan my entire debut alone.”

“Really? Did you not have a mentor,” Tommy inquired. “How did you get your key?”

She shrugged, taking Tommy’s backpack from him. He removed the clothing from within and began their inspection. “I found my key while walking back from one of my night classes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Tommy sat down at a nearby table, watching as Eret put his costume under light and went about mending any damages made during practice. “Why would you pick up a key you just found on the ground?”

“A man jumped me in an alleyway and forced me to take the key from him,” Eret said, suddenly cold. “Then he died in my arms and I coughed up blood for weeks.”

Tommy blanched. “Oh. Well, shit.”

“I got used to the effects of the key after a while, and I learned how to properly use it,” Eret sighed. “But I had to do it all by myself.”

Her story gave him something more to think about. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that must’ve been for Eret. He had also been going through his daily routine when Techno and Wilbur stumbled upon him. Even then, he wasn’t forced to do anything. 

“You’re really amazing,” Tommy said without thinking. 

Eret smiled gently. “Not quite as amazing as you’re about to be, kid.”

They tucked his costume back into his bag, and handed it to him. Tommy rolled his shoulders as the weight returned to them. Wilbur cleared his throat, “Thank you, Eret. We’ll see you later, yeah?”

“You owe me so fucking much,” Eret jabbed lightheartedly. “Be safe.”

They left, and this time they got into Wil’s car. He didn’t obey the rules of the road, as Tommy expected of him. Honestly, he would be more scared for any cop that might pull him over while he was in such a rush. 

The sun had risen a bit since Tommy had left his apartment. A few more people strolled on the sidewalks, and cars pulled out of their parking buildings. Wilbur drove until the tight-knit city turned into rolling countryside. 

The land became well-groomed and gaudy. The houses turned into lavish assortments. Tommy could practically feel a wave of entitlement roll over them as they entered the outskirts. Rich folks with too much money, who turned their nose up at the idea of living in a penthouse apartment, moved here. 

It wasn’t until the cookie-cutter gardens switched into wild groves that he knew their house was near. A smile rose to his face when Wilbur pulled into a familiar driveway. Boomer and Hannah ran out to greet him. As soon as they pulled away from their suffocating hug, they returned to their normal selves.

“Tommy, tell Hannah that you don’t need a mini fucking greenhouse to take into battle,” Boomer whined. Clearly they’d been bickering for a while over it. “She’s convinced you’re gonna get yourself hurt.”

“I am not ,” Hannah scoffed. “You just don’t have enough of a brain to understand what I’ve done.”

“Scientific breakthrough, blah, blah, blah,” Boomer retorted. “Isn’t this a typical afternoon for you? If we weren’t villains, you could’ve won twenty Nobel Peace prizes by now.”

“Why do you sound upset about that? It’s not like you’re short of any astounding deeds yourself.” Hannah crossed her arms. Around her feet, the lawn seemed to ripple. Boomer stuck out his tongue. Several blades of grass sprung out of the ground and smacked into his face.

“She booby-trapped my fucking yard,” Boomer screeched, gagging.

“ Our yard, you fucking asshole,” Hannah said. Wilbur cleared his throat, and they both shut up. He visibly wasn’t in the mood for the bickering, although Tommy found it funny. “Sorry. I’ll get to the point.”

She handed Tommy a small baggie, and he opened it. Inside, there was a tiny glass ball that encased what appeared to be a seedling. Tommy shook it around curiously, and Boomer put a hand out to stop him.

“I wouldn’t mess with that ball of destruction too much,” he warned. Tommy frowned. 

Hannah smiled, but there was a hint of something chaotic behind her eyes. Wilbur straightened up, and Tommy could tell his interest had peaked. She started her explanation, “I want you to break this if you’re ever in trouble, or if you feel like the heroes might steal your spotlight.”

“What does it do?” Tommy gaped incredulously. 

“If this seedling is exposed to air,” Hannah laughed at his enthusiasm. “It grows rapidly into the equivalent of a small jungle. If you use it, fighting will become very difficult, so it should be used to run away or as immediate protection.”

“This is why you wanted to see him, right?” Wil chimed in, leaning closer to the glass bead, “It’s definitely useful. Thank you, but we should get going now.”

Boomer and Hannah said their goodbyes. Wilbur’s car hummed to life as Tommy climbed in, and they drove off. Carefully, he set the gift back inside of its baggie. His costume was ready to go, Puffy unknowingly sent him confidence, and he had a new arsenal of weapons.

Tommy took a deep breath, nerves setting in. Wilbur stopped to get gas at an expected location, and Techno hopped into their car. Every hour of their day was planned to the smallest detail from that moment onward.

“Did you review the files I sent you,” Techno questioned. 

“It’s the hardest I’ve ever studied,” Tommy confirmed. “I know every material that could possibly make up any part of that damned hero agency.”

Techno nodded solemnly, and passed over his necklace. Dangling from the silver chain was the Fortitude Key. The second it touched his skin, he grew aptly aware of every bump in the road. It was a familiar feeling to him, now. He tucked it into his shirt to keep away from prying eyes.

The car cluttered along in a way that was less than charming. Techno let out a grunt of disapproval with each rule of the road broken. Wilbur stopped at every third stop sign, just to humor his brother. 

“Is Phil ready,” Wil asked Techno. The pink-haired man nodded. “Good. Review it with Tommy.”

“Review what? Isn’t Phil joining us?” Tommy raised a curious eyebrow.

“No,” Techno sighed. “The hero agency decided to be nice and send an official invitation to Craft & Co to thank us for working with them.”

“Luckily, there was only one seat reserved, so there's a reasonable excuse for the two of us to not be in attendance,” Wil joined. “But Phil has to go.”

“Wait, but what if I need his help?” Tommy sat up straighter. “Isn’t he supposed to help me with immunity?”

“He’s still going to help with that,” Techno assured. “But we’ve gotten a bit creative with Midnight’s replacement.”

“Replacement?”

The car pulled into an empty parking building. Wilbur told him to change into his costume, and the other two began to as well. Tommy supposed he wasn’t going to get an answer until he did, so he obeyed.

Putting on his costume was easy enough, but when it came to his shoes, Wil had to help him. Last-minute adjustments were made by Eret, and Tommy feared he might fuck something up if he laced them incorrectly. They were another safety precaution. 

He put on his mask and contact lenses last. Techno and Wilbur looked far too pleased to see him fully dressed. They weren’t far behind. Fortress’ signature skull mask and Icarus’ flashy silver and gold mask marked the completion of their transformation. They were no longer two rich businessmen and their assistant standing in a parking building, but two of the most dangerous supervillains in the city and their debutante apprentice.

“Alright,” Icarus said. He switched on his voice changer, encouraging Techno and Tommy to do the same. “Midnight’s replacement is waiting on the top floor of the building. From this point on, we will not be using our civilian identities. Are you ready?”

“Not like I have a choice,” Tommy stifled a laugh. Icarus nodded, and they were off. There was an exhausting amount of floors in that particular lot, but he didn’t even feel winded by the end of it. He mentally thanked Niki for his increase in stamina.