Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nothing is ever set in stone.

The hero stumbled into the room and looked around. They were bloodied and bruised but they would be damned if they let the villain best them again. They had too much to lose now for them not to make it out alive.

The room was not extravagant by any means. It was dark, shady, and run down. There was water leaking from the ceiling and the place looked like a bunch of homeless people had been living there for a while. The hero was not focused on those details though. They were focused on the man standing in the only light source in the abandoned building.

The shadows created dark circles around the villain's eyes creating a sinister effect. “My oh my. Have I changed that much since we've last seen each other?” The villain lifted their arms as if expecting a hug.

Sword in hand, he brings it above his head and charges at the villain. The villain quickly drops their arms and unsheathes their own sword, countering the attack. They exchanged blows, a deadly dance where one wrong step costs you everything. 

It was hard to fight in the dark, anticipating your opponent's every move as they did the same. Occasionally they pass through the hanging lightbulb but that was rare. Only happening when one stumbled or another tried a new trick that never really seemed to land.

The hero tires against the relentlessness of the villain pretty easily. His wary steps faltered the longer the fight went on. They were both breathing heavily as their attacks seemed to get weaker.

The hero meets the villain's weapon with his own again. Both of their arms were shaking in overexertion as they struggled to get the upper hand. The hero wondered if he would make it out alive as the villain made slide remarks to put him on edge.

Then the memory of family, friends, and the citizens of his city filtered through his head. What would become of those people if he fails? What would happen to his family? Would they make it? Would the city make it?

So the hero clenched his jaw and pushed with all his strength in desperation to defeat the villain. He can't lose. Not now, not ever. The villain was too slow to counter the raw emotions. His sword clattered to the ground as the hero raised his own and went for the killing blow.

The hero wins and everything is right with the world again.

"Nobody is original these days," Tommy muttered under his breath.

He turned off the random superhero film he was watching. It wasn't even that interesting. It followed the same plot just with different characters that hardly had any differences at all. How hard is it to make something with a little more spice or originality?

The tv turned to static when the disc popped out of the DVD player. Tommy quickly stood up from the couch and made his way to the tv. Sure, DVD players are kind of outdated now but he liked them. They had a charm. Or it was because he couldn't pay for any subscriptions.

Tommy snatched the disk from the DVD player and looked it over for scratches. Finding none he placed the disc back in its plastic case. He then slid the DVD case back into its spot on the bookshelf beside the tv that housed several other old superhero films and shows that he still kept. Tommy sat down on his couch with a plop before sliding his laptop onto his lap. The laptop was already on so it took no time to pull up his school assignments.

Tommy was frustratingly bored. He was hoping that one of those cheesy hero films would help change that. It didn't. Every hero movie has the same plot in the end. Heroes will always prevail against the great evil! Bleh. The truth is, the heroes have done far worse shit than any of the heroes he had heard of.

What Tommy would give to see a heart wrenching ending where the hero fails. Maybe one that actually imitates real life a little bit better.

Sure, it's entertaining, at first. If your definition of entertaining is watching the same thing over and over again and the only things that change are the characters(sometimes). If you watch so many superhero movies, you can always tell what happens next. The hero faces the villain, the hero who in desperation does something dumb, the villain almost wins, and the hero takes a chance and finally kills the villain. What fun is that?

Luckily, he could just look at the news for that ending. Only if they allow you to see it of course. They sometimes do, only to make the villains look like sociopaths. Is that the truth? Tommy doesn't believe that it is but you'll never have solid facts as an outsider. Heroes control this society. Anyone with powers controls this place in all honesty. 

Speaking of the news, Tommy grabbed the remote and switched the tv channels. He switched to the L’manburg news channel when he didn't find anything good for background noise. At least it would be better to know what's happening in the city than to be completely bored.

Finding that the volume was too low Tommy turned the volume up on the tv and began to watch the news.

Of course, he made sure the volume was an even number. Who do you take him for? A fool?

He wasn't really a political guy, but it was better to know these sorts of things than stay ignorant. Though the news does do a great job of covering your eyes so… Anyways, Tommy sat through a few minutes of commercials before the channel decided to become a news channel for once. Though, it droned on about the weather in different areas and how there will be heavy snowfall in some areas and shit. Boring!

The president had a forty five minute speech speaking about the incoming funds of the hero organization. As if they were not millionaires already. One thing Tommy learned quickly was how many people here are fans of the heroes. So much so that you can receive potential and actual death threats for speaking your unpopular opinion on them.

Tommy hadn’t turned on the news for things like this though. He has an app for the weather and he doesn't give a flying fuck about the organization, so why would he continue watching? Honestly? Tommy was about to turn the tv off. He still needed to get his essay done after all. As his thumb hovered over the red off button the screen change caught his eye.

The camera footage was shitty, it was grainy and filled with motion blur that it was hard to make out anything at all. He probably wouldn't have been able to make anything out if not for the reporter commenting on everything that he could barely see.

The camera zoomed in and out until it finally focused on the catastrophe it was recording. The footage was of a bank. All the windows were broken and the doors were lying broken on the ground. Somebody was thrown out of the doorway and landed in the middle of the street. There wasn't any traffic, thank god, but there were parked cars and stray civilians.

The camera switched to the reporter that had been talking and taking notes the entire time.

“This just in, heroes Clockwork and The Devil had arrived on the scene and wasted no time in clearing the pests.” The reporter had one of those stereotypical news voices. Monotone but somehow lively? Stale and bitter and so painfully fake. The reporter looked down and out of the helicopter and that seemed to be the cue for the camera to focus on the fight again.

Whoever had gotten thrown to the streets was already on their feet again. Taking an offensive position they seemed to draw something from the messenger bag over their shoulder and- Oh. The person the heroes were fighting was Atomic. He's a well known vigilante for sure. Known for being one of the most problematic criminals to the organization of heroes. He had never been caught by the heroes nor had they ever managed to find out one thing about his identity.

They probably never will. The vigilantes' clothes were interesting, to say the least. They wore a full face gas mask, the accent colors were a goldish yellow and contrasted against the rest of the outfit. A hood was thrown over Atomics head, keeping a few more details discrete. His jacket seemed to actually be a fit for the cold because of the fluff around their neck and wrists. The jacket was a mute green and seemed to have colorful patches all over it. A messenger bag was thrown over their shoulders and was being actively used at the moment. Their boots matched nicely and gripped well to the icy roads.

Atomic is among the top vigilantes. Like villains, as soon as the public sees him the heroes immediately shoot for him. It's not like he had committed major crimes. Sure, he's responsible for some property damage and a few injuries here and there, but nothing horrific.

Yet he's treated as if he's a terrorist and threatened to bomb the entirety of L’manburg. Truthfully, Tommy didn't see Atomic the way the media portrays him. Atomic is a violent vigilante, he can't lie about that. But, he has done a lot of good where the heroes would never step in. Atomic is seen as a hero down in the more poor districts. Heroes don't patrol there unless there's a sighting of a vigilante or villains and that's not even likely that they would show up.

Atomic pulled out a knife and quickly engaged in battle with another familiar person who walked out of the doors to the bank. They exchanged blows but none really seemed to actually touch the other. That was until Atomic seemed to have gotten slashed on his... shoulder? It was hard to tell what happened. Thankfully the reporter seemed to be capable of seeing everything.

“The Devil officially joined the fight after rounding up the thugs and bringing the civilians to safety. Atomic caught a blow from The Devil's entrance and seems to be no longer using their right shoulder. Was it the Devil's signature throwing knife?”

Oh, that makes a lot of sense. Tommy internally hissed and felt the phantom pain in his shoulder. Fuck, that must have hurt.

So Atomic was against two heroes at the moment. Clockwork and The Devil. Both are high ranking heroes and seem to be put on patrol often together. People, as they always do, gossip about the two's relationship. It doesn't matter to Tommy much, he really didn't care for this duo of heroes. 

Clockwork was one of the more passive of the top ranking heroes, unlike his partner. The Devil was known for absolutely cooking up vigilantes and villains alike. He often put civilians who were unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire in the hospital. Surprising that Clockwork was the one to begin the chase and not the Devil. 

Due to the fact that he's a hero, the government covers a lot of the crimes he commits. The Devil is reckless and couldn't give two shits about anything but the thrill of a fight. He's a pyromaniac and never gets punished for all the buildings he burned down in lower districts. Tommy was unfortunate enough to have seen the damage firsthand.

Atomic dodged the second knife and slashed at Clockwork who got too close for the vigilantes' liking. He missed and stumbled forward as Clockwork grabbed his wrist and twisted forcing him to drop the knife. Atomic wasn't out of tricks though. He kicked the hero and ran as soon as the grip loosened.

That proved to be a great idea because The Devil sliced the air where he had been previously standing. The camera followed Atomic as he pivoted on his heel, and ran like his life depended on it. Which it definitely did.

The Devil followed in pursuit of Atomic as Clockwork turned to deal with the things inside the bank. The footage went on to a questionnaire with Clockwork. They talked about shit that Tommy could frankly care less about.

It's sad to see vigilantes and villains get hurt. Not because he couldn't handle violence, he can, it's because of the whole ‘healing part’ that had always concerned him. Sure, if it's something small that they could take care of at home then it's all good. These people don't just get scrapes and bruises. They get broken bones, burns, and stab wounds all the time.

Vigilantes might be able to make it to a hospital. The worst they'll get is jail time or forced recruitment. Honestly, that's worth it if it means living another few days. But villains? They would be arrested on the spot. Left to bleed out as they listen to the sirens because being arrested for villains was far different than being arrested as a vigilante. Or they could be turned away to die on the streets in some random diseased alleyway. 

Tommy kind of hopes that Atomic can get that wound treated, he doesn't deserve to die in the rat infested streets. The vigilante was truly doing his job for good which was more than he could say about those snobby heroes.

After a few moments of listening to the boring interview, Tommy decided that it was probably time for him to get started on his homework. Adjusting the laptop on his lap again he began opening tabs for his homework. The only pressing assignment he has at the moment is his damned history essay. He opened up his google docs that he made specifically for the essay and began typing.

Tommy groaned after an hour of writing. This essay is becoming unbearable to write. He could probably end it off there and get good enough credit to still pass the class. It's not like anyone who is reading his essay hasn't heard their own history a thousand times over by now. Seriously, why does the government have to keep shoving it down our throats every chance they get?

Tommy stopped typing and laid his head back. It was around 1 am and he still had a lot of things to add to his essay. But, he has to go to bed soon or he might sleep through his alarm. He really doesn't want to get yelled at for being late to school. Fucking school and the earliest hours in existence.

Tommy saved his essay progress and closed the laptop lid with a tired sigh. He shoved his laptop into his book bag that was sitting right next to the couch where he had dropped it earlier that day. Tommy jumped up from the couch and stretched his back until he heard a satisfying pop. Tommy rubbed his eyes and drug his feet all the way into the bathroom.

The bathroom was small, it barely fit the necessities and yourself. Even with the little space Tommy avoids looking at the mirror while he's in there. He takes a quick shower, warm this time, he doesn't need to be awake for once. He then steps out and dries himself off with a towel, leaving it wrapped around his shoulders. He finished off his nightly routine by brushing his teeth and avoiding the mirror again.

The house was freezing when Tommy stepped out of the bathroom. He knows he took a warm shower but the house shouldn't feel below zero, right? Tommy was tired though, so instead of walking across the house to the thermostat he just wrapped his towel around him tighter and beelined to his bedroom.

Tommy's room was pretty standard if you asked him. His room had a twin sized bed tucked tightly into the corner of the room. The bed had dark gray colors that he never really bothered to change out for something more his style.

A window was set just left of his bed. The curtains were a bland color too. They were drawn closed and hadn't been opened in years. Underneath the window sat his old hand me down desk. The desk was covered in papers and pencils, half drawings he'd never finish. Homework assignments that he never turned in or he was currently working on were just half of the clutter.

The walls were a bland gray color like the rest of his room. There were holes where he had punched the walls over the years. Places where the paint was ripped off due to the tape he had used for the few posters he used to have. Tommy wasn't gentle when he took them down. He doesn't regret it.

Tommy yawned and looked around his bedroom for his fluffy red blanket. It was going to be a cold night. Or that's what the forecast had said, he didn't really listen. But he could feel the chill in the air so he was kind of inclined to believe the news for once.

Tommy spotted his dark red blanket and swiftly walked over to it. Strangely, he doesn't remember stuffing it into the corner behind his closet door. He's too tired to really think about that though.

The blanket was soft when Tommy grabbed it. He threw off the damp and increasingly less warm towel and traded it for his favorite blanket. He wrapped the blanket tight around his shoulder and made his way to his bed.

Tommy untucked the blankets and crawled underneath them. The bed squeaked under his weight, the only sign of damage was how it sagged dangerously low to the floor. He's had this bed for years. His feet dangle off the edge if he didn't curl up and it was never meant to hold his weight. But it still holds, meaning he needs to wait longer to buy a new bed.  With a huff, Tommy snuggled underneath his blankets and quickly fell asleep.

---

It was around 1:45 when there was a knock on Tommy’s door. The knock was persistent and desperate, but Tommy slept right through it. He wasn't going to get up from his warm bed to open the door to a salesman or something. The person at the door would most likely lose their patience and walk away anyway.

After Tommy almost fell back asleep the knocking only grew more insistent.

Why the fuck was someone knocking on their door at this time of night? It's too fucking early to sell pitch to people who look like zombies if they even get up. Tommy groaned while he got up. To be honest, the only reason he got up was to silence the knocking. It rang throughout the house and gave him a headache. He'll chew the salesman out before going back to bed. What did the guy expect? That he'll be greeted with happy samaritans? Fuck no.

Tommy stood up with his blanket wrapped around him and slowly walked over to the door. It wasn't a long walk but by the time he reached the front door, the knocking had slowed and quieted but wasn't completely gone. Tommy looked through the peephole to see if there was a wrong’un when he reached the door. There wasn't. It was just his friend Tubbo, who was slumped over and curled in on himself.

Tommy opened the door to say hello but his words got stuck in his throat at the sight before him. Tubbo’s arm was slashed open, the wound had a small stream of blood flowing from it. His friend's hands were covered in a crimson color, as well as the weird outfit he was wearing. 

Tubbo’s eyes were dazed with pain and blood loss, seemingly staring at nothing and everything all at once. He was swaying on his feet, ready to fall over at any moment. He looked like a corpse.

"Tubbo, what happened?" Tommy whispered.

Tubbo ignored him if he had even heard him and pushed his way inside. He laid down on the couch and closed his eyes. 

He closed his eyes.

"Nah, no, you're not leaving me with a dead body!" Tommy, who was only a few steps away from his friend, immediately ran over to him.

His blanket was forgotten at the front door, which Tommy almost slammed after Tubbo walked in. He couldn't tell if Tubbo was still breathing, it was way too dark in the small house he lived in to tell. 

Tommy nudged Tubbos' good shoulder to try and wake him up. Wouldn't that only disturb the wound more? Is that what happens? Tubbo groaned when Tommy nudged him. He sounded like he was in pain but other than that Tommy didn't receive any other reactions from the push.

Tommy knew nothing about these types of injuries. He knew basic first aid and this wasn't very basic. Did he tear any nerves? Is that possible? Why did he have to fall asleep in biology? Did biology even teach this shit? Fuck!

Does he have to sew it? Tommy didn't know the first thing about sewing! How much blood did Tubbo lose? Is he going to bleed out before Tommy could help him? Is he in danger of bleeding out? Infection! Is his wound already infected? Does he even have anything to treat that-

Tommy whipped his head around to face Tubbo when he whimpered. His eyes were screwed tight and his body was tense. Okay Tommy, lead with what you know. You screw him up even worse.

Tommy quickly grabbed the towel he had tossed onto the couch after his shower a few days ago and grabbed Tubbo’s hand. He gently placed the towel on the wound trying to ignore the facial reactions of his friend. He pressed down slightly and flinched at the muffled cry. Hopefully, that would help lessen the bleeding

Fuck- why did Tubbo have to go to him and not the hospital? Why did he not call 911? Moving Tubbo’s hand, he placed it on top of the towel to hopefully keep some pressure there.

Good, great, okay- Shit? Uh- He should probably. He should definitely get that patched up. Bandages or stitching though?

Tommy remembered the gash and winced. Yeah… definitely stitches, that's for sure. Where was the thread though? Tommy knew he didn't have the medical thread he needed to actually stitch Tubbo up. His first aid box is bare of a lot of things you usually need. He assumes he just doesn't have the thread he needs, which, fuck.

Now that he thinks about it, didn't his mother used to sew a while back? Tommy stood up from his crouched position beside Tubbo. Yeah, yeah she did. And if he recalls correctly, she never got rid of the thread she used. Maybe not the most sanitary, but it's all he's got at the moment.

Tommy went over to her desk that held her sewing supplies and a few other miscellaneous things. He pulled out the drawer and saw all the sewing supplies tucked into a corner neatly. Okay, thread. Tommy reaches over and grabs a thing of thread. Okay, thread acquired uh…

Think Tommy, what else would you need?

He thought for a moment before diving his hand back into the drawer. He frantically searched for a needle that seemed hidden in the colors of everything. How could he have forgotten about the damned needle?

After Tommy grabbed the needle he saw a pair of tweezers. That could be useful. Tommy decided to grab the tweezers in case any debris was stuck in the wound.

He couldn't risk infection. At least make the infection any worse if he left anything in the wound.

Once he found everything he was looking for, he practically flew over to the bathroom where the medical shit was. Tommy swears he had never run that fast in his life. He grabbed bandages and this weird medical stuff that cleans wounds but stings like a motherfucker. Tommy couldn't remember the name, the label long gone from the bottle. But, he would always remember his hatred for the foul thing.

Stop being dramatic Tommy, you have a friend to save.

Once everything was gathered Tommy found himself crouching beside his friend. His friend who somehow got stabbed and thought dying at his doorstep was an acceptable way to go. He could've gone to the richer side of town if he wanted to die in a nice place! Or he could have gone home! Can't blame him though, even Tommy wouldn't want to deal with his dad when he's angry.

When did Tommy become a hero? Ew.

Scratch that thought. Tommy will never be a hero. He was just doing something good for Tubbo, that's all. Heroes are selfish and expect payment or use the victim. Tommy won't be like that… And, he should probably stop thinking about this.

There was blood everywhere. How did Tommy just notice that?

There was a fear that had settled deep in his chest. He didn't want to start. He didn't want to fail so badly that it was his fault that Tubbo dies. 

Tommy gently moved Tubbo’s hand out of the way, leaving the towel where it was. He sharply inhaled when he slowly peeled the towel off of the bloody wound. All his muscles were tense as Tommy desperately tried not to make the wound any worse. The towel stuck pretty good to the wound and seemed to not want to budge, but he eventually managed to get it off. 

That's got to be painful. 

Okay… Okay. What do I do now? Uh. He should probably pull back that sleeve for better access, right? Yeah. That's what he's going to do. Tommy looked around the room for a moment before spotting what he was searching for on the coffee table. He grabbed the scissors quickly and ended up beside Tubbo in no time.

Tommy grabbed the bottom of the sleeve and took a deep breath. Hopefully, Tubbo won't kill him for ruining his shirt. Tommy slid the sleeve in between the blades of the scissors and started cutting. The scissors were dull and were struggling to cut through the fabric easily. Tommy huffed angrily. Fuck. Why are these scissors so fucking dull? Were these made specifically for babies?

After a few inches were cut Tommy got impatient and decided to rip it the rest of the way. He grabbed both different sides and just pulled. The sleeve ripped easily and soon Tommy was slowly peeling his friend's sleeve away from the cut so he could get a better look.

The sleeve was stiff with blood and when Tommy let go red flakes decorated his skin. The bleeding had slowed but hadn't stopped completely. Is that a good sign? Or just a really, really bad one? 

The stab wound seemed deep but Tommy barely knew how to judge this. Was it deep enough for stitches? It seemed so. Tommy grabbed the towel he used earlier. The towel probably isn't the best thing to clean it with but he's gotta work with what he has. He grabbed the bottle full of chemicals and poured some on the cleanest part of the towel. He dabbed at the wound to clean it up and received a weak hiss from Tubbo. 

After cleaning up some of the blood Tommy debated on doing the stitches. Was the cut clean enough? Tommy doesn't want the thing to get infected! Will he get infected? Fuck- Tubbo will get a piece of Tommy’s mind when this is all over. What type of madman goes to a teenager for their wounds?

Tommy made the executive decision to start stitching. If it gets infected then it's karma for Tubbo dumping this shit onto him. Tommy grabbed the needle and the thread that he had set down beside him. He threaded the thread through the loop on the needle and took a deep breath.

This is going to suck.

Tommy placed the need down so he could get a grip on the skin around the wound. He needs to push the sides together before stitching, right? So that's exactly what he did. He pinched the two sides of the wound until the ripped edges were close enough to sew.

He should have known this would have happened. He's not an idiot nor is he oblivious. Why is it such a surprise that this happened? It shouldn't be. Not to him at least.

When Tommy pushed both sides closed, he felt a strange warmth in his hands. It took him one second, maybe two, to realize what that strange warmth was. At first, he had thought it was blood or the burning heat of flesh but he realized quickly that it was not. This heat had come from him. How did he not notice sooner?

Tommy gasped as the horror settled in. It curled around his heart and plunged an icy dagger into his beating organ. The warmth in his hand steadily grew a degree hotter and hotter until he could compare it to sticking your hand into a fire. The heat in the room was hot enough for the wallpaper to sizzle but it somehow didn't.

The skin started to shift underneath Tommy's unwillingly steady hands. The sensation was unwelcomed. It was strange, uncomfortable, weird, and overwhelming. The skin felt slimy with sweat and slick with blood but the skin still weaved.

If Tommy were to compare this experience to anything he would say a spider to its web.

The spider weaves its web, broken or not, until perfection. It will weave and weave until its frail and fragile body could no longer weave. Tommy was the reluctant spider and Tubbo’s skin was the web.

The unbearable burning feeling got hotter and hotter, which Tommy did not think could happen, the more he felt Tubbos’ skin stretch underneath his hands. The heat was so bad that Tommy swore that he had dipped his hand in lava and all the nerves were melting off of him.

Tommy was terrified.

He wanted- No, needed the feeling to stop. Tommy couldn't handle the feeling, it made him sick. It was a feeling linked to a time he wishes to forget every time he closes his eyes. So Tommy takes a deep breath to steady himself and ripped his hands away. A scream tore through Tommy’s throat.

“Fuck!” Tommy hissed, borderline choking back the scream that accompanied the curse.

Superheroes were not just men who knew how to fight. They’re trained in their special abilities and cultivated to protect the public. Every powered civilian is required for testing to check for those special abilities the public holds dear.

These abilities are unique to the person. Sure, two people could have powers like water manipulation but how they work for you is entirely different. One could have fire powers and need to be in direct sunlight while some might need to adjust the heat up and up and up until something bursts into flames.

Because of how unique these powers are to people they end up named and logged into databases. His father had a power named ‘green thumb’. He had powers related to the growth of plants, it was pretty cool to see in action.

His mother's power is named ‘sunbeam,’ because she can make beams of light. Very… stereotypical names, Tommy thinks.

‘Lifetime chance,’ that's the name the doctors had officially given his powers. He has healing abilities.

You may ask why Tommy didn't just heal Tubbo from the very beginning. It's very simple actually! His powers don't just heal things. It was uncontrolled, not tamed one bit. It's dangerous to use untrained powers. Stitching him up normally would be less of a risk than using his powers. Since, you know, Tommy barely has any control over his powers.

Tommy slowly lifted his gaze from the floor to look up at Tubbo. His hands were violently shaking as he tried to calm his nerves enough to grasp onto what just happened. Tubbos' wound was well… not fully healed. The edges were pink but it hadn't closed and was still bleeding enough for Tommy to be a little concerned about.

That was… good? Tommy hasn't healed him fully. He sighed quietly and looked down at his shaking hands. They laid palms facing him and Tommy's eyes traced the creases in his hands and the… other things present. 

Instead of the barely visible blue veins, they turned a sick black color. It faintly reminded him of ink. Tommy stared unblinkingly at the horrific image. The hot flashing pain from before was traded with shock and a weary feeling almost as if the pain in his hand never happened. Tommy was so fucking tired. He rubbed his wrists almost purely out of shock and looked back down already knowing what he would find. 

They were normal again.

Tommy could easily say that what happened next was a blur. He grabbed the threaded needle with nonshaky hands and easily stitched through the skin. If he wasn't feeling numb out of shock he would probably cringe at the feeling. Tommy cut the end of the thread and tied it.

In a blink, he was holding the towel and wiping down the surface entirely.

With another blink, Tommy was pulling a blanket over Tubbo with the tv faint in the background.

And with another blink, Tommy was in his bed.

His eyelids felt heavy, and Tommy was having a hard time keeping them open, he had a hard time trying to reason with himself to keep them open. So just this once, he lets sleep push away all his problems. Just this once he lets the promise of a good night's rest wash away his worries. All Tommy wanted to do was dream. And that was what he did.

Tommy dreamt of his mother before she turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism. He dreamt of his dad who had the brightest smile. He dreamt of a time when his powers were not developed. A time when Tommy was just Tommy. He still misses these times, even today. He misses his dad's bright smile and the praises. He misses the praises. He misses the attention. His mother doesn't give him the light of day anymore. Tommy doesn't blame her.

Tommy dreamt of a world where he never received powers. That world was better off. But it only existed in Tommy’s dreams.

—

The first thing Tommy registered was something poking his cheek.

The insistent poking was annoying and served to pull him from the depths of his dreams. He groaned when his body came further to awareness, and fuck was he sore as hell. He had barely done anything yesterday!

“-mmy.”

“-ommy!”

“Tommy!”

Tommy jumped up and immediately slammed his head into something and let out a curse. The thing he had hit also let out a curse.

“Damn, the thanks I get for waking you up,” someone muttered.

Tommy peeled his eyes open at the voice. It was familiar, meaning he probably knew who it was.

The sight that Tommy saw was enough to cause him to snort. Tubbo was standing over him with an exasperated look on his face. His hair was such a mess that Tommy just knew it would take hours to get it under control again. And don't get Tommy started on how messy the clothes he was wearing.

“What are you laughing at, prick?” Tubbo stated it wasn't harsh, that he could appreciate.

“I wasn't laughing at you Tubbo I was…” Tommy intentionally diverted his eyes away from Tubbo.

“I was laughing at this completely unrelated thing.”

Tubbo smiled at the joke and moved to sit at the end of Tommy's bed as he struggled to sit up. Tommy sat up and took a glance at his alarm clock. It was late and made Tommy panic for a second.

“Don't worry big T, schools canceled.” Tubbo smiled.

“Does that mean we get to spend the day together?”

Tubbo faintly smiled back before he frowned. “I would if my dad doesn't ground me for disappearing off the globe last night.”

Tommy winced, “Yeah… What exactly happened last night? You came here dead on your feet and passed out on my couch.”

Tubbo nodded slowly and leaned back onto the bed only slightly hissing as he jostled his bad arm.

“Thanks for that by the way.” Tommy caught the memo that he didn't want to talk about it and laid down beside Tubbo.

“What do you mean?” Tubbo sighed and looked over to Tommy.

“Thanks for stitching me up, thanks for not calling the cops. I dunno, just felt the need to thank you,” Tubbo mumbled.

Tommy softly smiled at the way Tubbo had said that.

“Don't mention it, Tubs. Bench duos gotta stick together, you know?”

Tubbo grinned at that. “Yeah, you big sap. Sticking together also means helping clean messes together!”

Tommy frowned before the realization dawned on him as he sat up to survey the damage.

His room was terribly dirty from tossing everything out of his closet in search of another blanket last night for Tubbo. Clothes were everywhere. A shirt was on his desk, it knocked off some of the papers that were previously laid there. The drawings were pushed all over the place. Some were crumpled up, and others were soaked from a glass that had been knocked off the table. 

A pair of pants was stuck on the ceiling fan. How the fuck is he going to get that down? A sweater hung on one of the posts of his bed. Those were just a few notable messes and damages around his room. Believe him when he says that it looks like a tornado came through his room.

“Fuck…” Tommy whispered. “What hurricane hit my room?” Tommy asked mostly to himself.

“Hurricane Tommy 2022,” Tubbo declared and made Tommy snort.

“This is going to be shit,” Tommy muttered as he was making a game plan to clean this mess up. No doubt that the living room was still a mess too.

Tubbo stood up from the bed and turned to look at Tommy with a huge grin on his face.

“Don't worry sir, the clean up crew is on it! This place will be spotless in no time!” Tubbo said in a fake customer service voice.

It was played up so it kind of sounded more like an announcer's voice than customer service.

“You? Tubbo Underscore? Is going to help me clean?” Tommy says, sounding extremely doubtful.

Tubbo huffed, “Hell yeah I would if it gets me away from my dad's rage for a little longer.”

Tommy heaved himself up from the bed. “That's just going to make him madder, you know.”

Tubbo nodded and picked up a shirt from Tommy's floor and laid it on the bed at the beginning of a pile.

“Eh, I know. I just don't feel like going home at the moment.” Then he smirked. “And I'm sure you wouldn't mind having someone help clean.”

Somehow Tommy felt like he lost something when he sighed.

“You're right. I don't mind.”

Tubbo grinned even showing his teeth as he picked up another shirt and threw it at Tommy. Before he could tell what Tubbo was doing he was hit in the face with the shirt. Tommy grinned evilly as he picked up a pillow from the bed and swung at Tubbo.

Surprisingly Tommy's room ended up clean even with the fight the two had. Dare he even say it was cleaner than it was before? The room wasn't the only thing they cleaned up. Tommy handed Tubbo a new pair of clothes that was marginally better than the ones he was wearing. There would be permanent stains on his clothes, but his clothes are dark enough to not be seen easily. Tommy just doesn't want people to even see the blood or the ripped sleeve that Tubbo didn't even mention.

Tubbo changed quickly into a pair of too large sweatpants and an oversized sweater. Tommy changed too, the clothes he was wearing currently had blood stains. He changed into a black pair of sweatpants, new underwear, and his iconic white, red sleeved t-shirt. Tommy threw Tubbos clothes along with his dirty clothes in the wash with his weekly laundry.

They made good work of the bloody living room after they changed. The living room was cleaned spotless. There was no evidence left behind from last night when the two were done with it

All the supplies Tommy used were back where they belonged. The medical supplies are in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The sewing supplies were placed neatly back in his mother’s desk even though Tommy was sure she would never notice if those things were out of place. 

The blood stains on the couch were scrubbed profusely. The stains kind of blended into the couch at this point. Hopefully, It's not Tommy’s tired eyes playing tricks on him. He threw a blanket over it just in case.

The doorstep was covered in snow and had some blood splattered here and there. Tommy was surprised that no one had called in the blood because his neighbors were nosy fucks. Tubbo just laughed and said a joke about not eating ‘red’ snow. That was cleaned up too. 

The porch had a roof so the snow that flew in would take forever to cover the blood. Tommy dusted snow onto the doorstep to cover the blood. It was the best solution for him but he's pretty sure Tubbo at some point actually cleaned it up.

A few hours passed during the bench duos cleaning montage. The place looked spotless for the first time in weeks and Tommy smiled a little bit at that. The two teens were sitting on the living room couch taking a break from the constant cleaning. 

A ring broke the peace in the room.

Tubbo reached down and grabbed his phone from the couch. Tommy watched Tubbo's reaction as he read the notification and silently cursed.

“Fuck, Tommy I've got to go now. Thank you for having me over.” Tubbo said in a hurry as he quickly gathered his things.

Tommy knew Tubbos father would be pissed if Tubbo got home late. He was honestly surprised that Tubbo had gotten away from this for as long as he could.

“I can drive you,” Tommy offered easily.

Tubbo paused and thought for a moment. “That… would be great. But I don't want my dad to yell at you.”

Tommy shrugged, he had already thought of a genius excuse in case that happened. Tubbo passed out like the pussy he is while they were doing homework. Well, maybe not the best to avoid the wrath of Tubbo’s dad. He'll think of something better on the ride to his friend's house.

“Don't worry, I'll think of an excuse on the ride there.” Tubbo smiled, something mischievous swirling in his eyes.

“Just run the story by me before we get there so I can back you up.”

Tommy raised a thumbs up, “Will do.”

The two packed their stuff up and left for the car. Tommy slipped a few times on hidden ice but the heat from his cheeks kept him warm as Tubbos laughed at his misery. 

When they finally made it to the car Tommy found that the doors were unlocked. Great, his mom forgot to lock the doors again. “Bitch,” Tommy whispered under his breath. Tommy opened the driver's door and climbed in only having to struggle a little with how low the car was to the ground. Tubbo followed shortly after, sitting beside him in the passenger seat.

Tommy sat up in his seat and dug the keys out of the tiny compartment in the roof of the car. He started the car up and turned the heat on. It being an old car and all meant it was going to be a bit before the air warmed up. Tommy repositioned the mirror and adjusted the seat to fit him.

The car slowly grew warmer. Not incredibly warmer but it was definitely better than compared to the outside. Tommy relished in the warmth before he tugged the wet gloves off his hands. He put the car into drive and made his way to his friend's house. The story would be that Tubbo was doing his homework at Tommy’s house and it started to snow too heavily for him to drive him back home that night.

Tommy pushed back the wary feeling as he drove. The past day was extremely eventful, to say the least. As things started to calm down and he was lulled into the calm by the sound of the car's engine he couldn't help but think of all the shit he still has to do. He has half of a history essay to write, he also has to clean his room now, and because of the snow, he would have to shovel the driveway in the morning.

He also still had to take a decent nap so he wouldn't be a zombie for his shift that night.

Chapter Text

“Shit-” Tommy hissed under his breath.

Hot coffee was spilled all over the cafe uniform Tommy was forced to wear at his job. The coffee dripped off the counter and pooled right next to Tommy’s shoes. It had splattered everywhere. All the way from the counter to the wall behind Tommy. A teenager's hand was stretched out from where he had accidentally knocked over the coffee. The customer was unmoving from shock and embarrassment.

“I-I’m so sorry!” The guy had finally stammered out.

The teenager was genuinely panicking and Tommy had no reasonable excuse to snap at him. It was just an accident, they do tend to happen. He had to repeat that in his head while he took a deep breath and counted to five to calm his nerves. 

Tommy called for Jack to get him a mop, and some cleaning wipes. The only other people working with him that night were Jack, and their boss, Niki. Or at least she said she was going to be here tonight. Tommy hasn’t checked to see if she was there since he had clocked in.

“It's fine, just be more careful next time,” He consoled the panicking teenager.

Today has already been a long day, and Tommy has only just started his shift. He was pretty sure that the universe had decided to make this week a living hell.

First, Tubbo showed up practically bleeding out on his doorstep at a rather unreasonable time at night. Not like any other time would have been really. He still hasn't even made an attempt to talk to Tommy about what happened to him! Sure, he thanked him and all but that doesn’t fucking explain anything to him.

Not to mention that he has barely slept with all the chores he has to do besides cleaning other things in his house. The only thing Tubbo bothered to help him with… Tommy wouldn’t judge Tubbo for getting involved with sketchy shit. They were thick as blood, he would probably end up helping him instead of judging him!

What was Tommy doing again? Right, he was at work.

The teenager received a new drink and went on his way still apologizing profusely while Tommy worked to clean coffee stains off the counter, floor, and his uniform. There was nothing he could do about his uniform until later, he rang and scrubbed some of the coffee out, but that was the best he could do at the time. 

He scrubbed at the stains on the counter with a washcloth, the stains were pissing him off. Why does coffee have to stain this badly? Tommy was trying everything he could to ignore the inevitable anger bubbling in his throat. The anger that seeped into his bones and made him want to lash out. 

It's bearable now, Tommy can handle this feeling, he has before. He mopped the floors. This task was easier. In fact, it calms Tommy, the repetitive motion soothed him. Still, he was mad, not as mad as he was earlier, but he wasn't as chipper as he usually is. 

Fucking coffee. Who even likes coffee? It's so bitter tasting and gross. It even smells terrible! It's an absolute menace and deserves to be forgotten and die.

Tommy usually takes the night shifts at the cafe he works at. School has rendered his capability to work full time, but he is working to graduate early to change that. His job pays decently for a part time job plus there weren't many people trying to piss him off all hours of the day.

There are a few Karens here and there but Tommy mostly sees tired college students who order coffee for late night study sessions. And sometimes a group of friends hangs out in one of the booths due to the amazing food and homey atmosphere.

That's another reason why he loves this job so much, the homey atmosphere. Tommy doesn't receive that feeling often, the feeling of a happy and content home. It's bittersweet, but Tommy could care less about that. The atmosphere is so calming, yet refreshing. It renews Tommy’s energy every time he walks in. 

There were wooden booths that lined the walls covered in cute tablecloths placed around. Tommy didn’t have the tedious task of placing them down and cleaning them, all he had to do was fold them up and place them in the back. There were pretty decorations that represent sweats, and plant life he finds himself staring at often. 

Plant life hangs from the ceiling and is hooked around the chairs and tables. It looks overgrown yet intentional. The floor was made of dark oak that complimented the soft pink walls well in his opinion. 

Everything tied together is just amazing, really. Just something about this place makes Tommy overwhelmingly content and he was okay with that. If he didn't work here, he would most likely be a regular customer with how he couldn’t get enough of the place.

There were only a few people left in the cafe now this late. There was a couple and someone who was nose deep in schoolwork. Tommy was working on a hot chocolate for himself. He knew Niki wouldn't mind if he was drinking one. As long as he doesn't make a mess of course.

Music played in the background, something Tommy hummed along with to keep himself occupied. It was quiet in the cafe at this time of night so Tommy didn’t even have to strain his ear to hear the bell linked to the door jingle.

“Welcome to Sourly Sweet, what can I get for you?” Tommy said with ease.

The kid turned around to greet the new customer with a well practiced customer service smile that seemed far too genuine. 

The person who stood before him looked like a lanky victorian ghost. The guy's skin was pale, and dare he say see through? He was wearing a yellow turtleneck sweater and black jeans. His brown, curly hair was an absolute mess. It looked like he had tried to shove the mess that is his hair under a beanie. Though it had failed as some strands are left laying limply over that guy's eye.

"Is uh, Niki here today? I'm here for an interview."

"She should be, but I would have to check to confirm. May I ask for your name?"

The guy seemed confident on his feet. As if he knew he was going to get the job. Maybe he had met Niki before? He did address her by her first name. Or maybe that was just him.

"It's Wilbur." The Victorian ghost wannabe replied.

Seriously, why the fuck does he look dead? Is it his powers? Or is the cafe haunted? It better not be, he might have to move shifts if it was. "Nice to meet you, Wilbur. As I said she should be here, you can sit at one of the booths or tables while I go get her."

Before the guy could reply Tommy walked into the back room.

The backroom was lined with counters and baking supplies. There were ovens lining one wall, some seemed to have some goods baking inside. Tommy swears that this place is more of a bakery than a cafe. 

Two doors were located at the back of the kitchen. One led to Niki's office and the other led to the storage room. Tommy doesn't spend much time in the kitchen. He can't bake without burning anything, which also includes the oven. Believe it or not, Tommy can actually cook! But for some reason, he cannot make a good pastry to save his life.

In Tommy's search, he had not found his boss, but he found a bald man struggling to knead dough. 

"Jack Manifold, my man!" Tommy held finger guns up to Jack.

"I am in search of the greatest, most wonderfullest, kindest boss out there! Is she here?"

Jack had rolled his eyes at Tommy.

Tommy knew he was being a tad bit overdramatic. But it was fun! And by the smile Jack tried to hide, he was having fun too. 

Jack had put his hand over his head and pretended to faint. "Sorry to say, pal, the most wonderfullest boss went out for a bit."

Manifold may not be having the greatest day from what Tommy could tell. He usually doesn't play into Tommy's bits unless he's in need of a good laugh 

"Alright, could you tell Niki that someone asked for her when she gets back?"

"Another one of those customers?" Jack had grimaced when he said that.

There were many times when those bitches have asked for Niki. Tommy was kind of authorized to actually get Niki, or a higher up to deal with it when she wasn't available. Jack, who is classified as a higher up, usually has to deal with those shitlords. By the way, he visibly looked miserable, dealing with 'those customers' would be the last thing he wanted to do.

"Nah, he told me he was here for an interview.”

"Oh please god, let them actually be able to bake."

Jack had stopped his task of kneading dough to hold his hands up in a mock prayer.

Tommy opened his mouth and raised his hand to his heart like he was offended.

Jack had only laughed when he saw Tommy’s pain. 

“I can bake!”

“I'll let her know.” Jack turned back to the dough and picked up the chore that is kneading.

Tommy sighed playfully. “Thanks, man.”

Tommy turned and made his way up front. When he opened the door, he immediately felt eyes on him. Shit- how long has he kept Wilbur waiting? Tommy immediately glanced over the tables to spot the hipster. He had noticed that the other customers had left in the time he was gone. Good- that means after this whole interview thing, tonight should be smooth sailing.

Upon spotting Wilbur sitting in a booth next to a window that overlooked the street, Tommy walked over to him. He seemed preoccupied with scrolling through something on his phone. Probably biding his time by going through some social media app.

When he approached the table Wilbur glanced up and smiled as a greeting. “Hello!”

“Sup. Niki isn't here right now but she'll be here soon. Might be a bit before she actually gets you for the interview.”

Wilbur had only laughed, not the reaction Tommy was awaiting. He looked like a spoiled kid who would throw a tantrum when they didn't get their way. He didn't do any of those things- which in all honesty surprised Tommy.

“It's fine- I'm in no rush…” Wilbur hesitated, he seemed to be weighing his next words.

“If it isn't too much trouble- could I have a black coffee?”

Oh- was he just nervous to order?

“Yeah, sure dude I can get you one.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy retreated to the counter and prepared Wilbur’s coffee. It was kind of late to actually drink coffee, but Wilbur does seem like a night owl.

While Tommy had just finished Wilbur’s coffee, Niki walked through the back door and called out for him to get his attention.

“Hi, Tommy! How has your day been?” 

Niki is one of the kindest souls Tommy has ever met. She's one of the reasons he still works at the cafe. She lets him take food home and has reliable paychecks. Which is surprising, especially for this side of the city. 

She also offers rides to him whenever she can. It was weird at first, but Tommy soon came to the conclusion that she was just a kind soul. There was no malicious intent behind her smile. He also learned to take her kindness for granted and grab a ride or a fresh meal whenever he can.

“My day has been good, how has yours been?” Tommy gave a smile and sat Wilbur’s coffee down on the counter.

“It's been long,” She sighed. “Now I've got an interview. I'm half debating just giving him the job now so I don't have to go through with it.”

Tommy laughed.

—

Wilbur was taken to Niki’s office a good hour ago. During that time, Tommy was on his phone fishing up his essay. No customer has come in during that hour. More likely than not, no others are going to show up during the final hours of his shift. Tommy has all the time in the world to finish his essay. Of course, he says that too soon.

Wilbur came through the door that led to the kitchen and walked over to Tommy. “Did you get the job, Big man?” 

Wilbur had a grin on his face, it was genuine, but scary all the same. It was too ghosty for Tommy’s liking. Far too sharp to be human but could go unnoticed. The lanky ass Victorian ghost’s hair seemed to almost float, but that could've been written off as static.  He was sure that it had something to do with Wilbur’s powers. Not that Tommy would judge.

“I'll be joining you for the night shift!” Tommy had smiled, Wilbur’s genuine happiness affected him far more than Tommy would like to admit. Maybe he was genuinely happy. 

Jack usually doesn't work the night shift with him. A man named Ranboo does, though he doesn't talk, like ever. Tommy was pretty sure he couldn't talk. It would be nice to have someone to talk to. It could fill the last few hours of emptiness in his shift. 

“That's pog, king!” Tommy finds that what he said was true, he couldn't find something in him that despises this change. Niki was always great at hiring workers. 

Tommy turned to cover his smile and spotted the coffee he had made Wilbur. It was sitting on the counter innocently as if it wasn't the devil. The only thing worse than coffee was cold coffee. It was most likely as cold as an iceberg about now.

With a mischievous grin, Tommy turned and faced Wilbur, “You know, if you wanted an iced coffee you could have just said so.”

Wilbur looked over to the coffee and sighed. He slid his hand down his face in defeat. 

Tommy spent the rest of his shift showing Wilbur around the place. Showed him how to work the machines, and even to shut them off when they had to close. During that time they spoke. Not idly, like they were awkward and were just trying to fill in the silence. They spoke like they had known each other for years. It was a nice change of pace for Tommy. 

He showed Wilbur the whole closing routine. Folding tablecloths, and wiping the table underneath which only naturally was followed by wiping down the booth seats. The floor was swept thoroughly along with mopping and that was most the gist of the closing routine.

When they had to part ways after the shift, he finds himself missing Wilbur’s laugh. It was nice, it reminded him of hot chocolate. What Tommy would give to have hot chocolate right about now. For once, he finds himself looking forward to the night shift, not just for the paycheck or food, but for the people.

—

Tommy usually drives to and from work. Mostly because he's lazy and it's a long walk. The real reason Tommy drives is that he gets to avoid the dark, rat infested streets on his way home.

Which is what he was doing right now, walking the ill-lit streets.

Tommy was never afraid of the dark. Sometimes it comforts him to slip in the shadows so he can let himself go without the worry of someone seeing. But he knows he's not the only one who feels that way. So many other criminals love the dark. It was never the dark that scared Tommy, it was always the alleyways where he couldn't see down, and the blind spots big enough for someone to lurk in.

Due to that paranoia, Tommy has taken to memorizing the streets and alleyways in case anything happens. He has also memorized where villains usually patrol. He doubts he'll ever run into one but you can never be too cautious. Sometimes paranoia can be good.

Especially in this area, Pogtopia.

It was… probably the worst place to be at when the sun falls especially when you’re alone.

It was abnormally quiet.

Tommy hates this type of quiet. A quiet that feels like the world is holding its breath. It makes Tommy feel like prey in a predator's territory. And well, maybe he was. His footsteps echoed in the clearing, alerting everyone near. He hated the noise, but he had to make it home, he couldn't just turn around and ask for…

Yes- yes he can!

He can call Tubbo to pick him up and drive him home! Even if he can't, having his best friend on call is rather comforting. So Tommy pulled his phone out and called Tubbo. 

Ring Ring…

What could Tubbo be doing right now? He usually doesn't work Friday nights. His job is also closed so him being called in is unlikely. Unless they opened in the past fifteen minutes since he walked by.

Ring Ring…

Paranoia.

It's a terrible thing to have. It makes you question everything around you to the point where you don't trust anything. Even when all the facts are laid out in front of you. So of course, when Tubbo doesn't respond is when his paranoia acts up. 

Ring Ring…

What if he is dead?

What if I didn't fix him up properly and he ripped open the stitches?

What if he's grounded or snowed in? It was snowing pretty badly where he lived! What if he was in a car wreck?

Or someone broke into his house?

Maybe his dad got sick!

What if he had too much homework? What if-

It went to voicemail.

He didn't pick up! When did Tubbo not pick up? He always does! Every time! Where the fuck is he? Tubbo always has his phone on him! Hell- he’ll pick up phone calls in the middle of class. He even wakes up and answers his calls. With ever growing fear, Tommy dialed his number and called again.

It went straight to voicemail…again.

Fuck- calling Tubbo only made Tommy more anxious. He's fine, the person who might not be fine is Tommy.

The shadows seem to stretch out and take swipes at him. It feels colder somehow. It was only his imagination but he couldn't reason with himself. His heart was still pounding in his chest and he wondered if it was loud enough that someone could hear him.

"You're fine...you're fine…you're fine." Tommy kept repeating that under his breath.

He was tired, his feet felt like they were going to fall off, and his panic was only making it harder to breathe. The snow loudly crunched underneath his feet. When was everything this loud?

Tommy gripped his jacket and tagged it closer to himself. It was fucking freezing. The cold made Tommy's teeth chatter and his nose runny. Fuck everything! He should have just wrangled the car keys from his mom and driven!

With his inner turmoil, he almost missed a muffled scream echo through an alleyway he was about to pass. The keyword was ‘almost’. Tommy's feet planted into the concrete when he heard that petrified screech. It was quickly muffled, but the damage was done. Tommy had heard it. 

Faced with the situation he was in, there were two choices. He could call the cops or continue walking and try to block out the screams. To Tommy there was only one answer, keep walking. 

Now Tommy was not a goddamn hero.

He had always put his life first before others. Tommy would rather save himself than save another. Sure, that was kind of selfish but Tommy hasn't met many people who he would risk his life for. The people he would risk everything for are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Or that's what he thought, Tubbo had made Tommy rethink that decision.

Before Tommy continued on his way home, there was the creak of a door opening. The screaming was louder with it opened but when the door shut, the screaming was muffled again. 

The only thing he heard was a monotone voice saying something along the lines of, “Run little hero?”

It was absolutely terrifying to hear. So whoever left through that door was most likely a small-time hero who thought they could defeat a villain and lost, or- Tommy was just stupid and misinterpreted that wrong. That was more likely than the first. 

The sound of snow crunching snapped Tommy out of his shock. In a moment of desperation, Tommy dove behind a garbage bin and hid.

Even if it was a hero, Tommy did not want to be responsible for not calling the authorities. He knew if he did the villain would have hunted him down. If the hero caught him, then that would have only helped the villain in their search.

When did villains hang around here? Tommy shouldn't be in villain territory.

Unless they were new villains as well? Or, a group decided to expand their horizons? In Pogtopia?

That doesn't matter much. Tommy just needed to get the fuck out of there.

From behind the trash bin, he saw a man limping. They had a terribly drawn smiley face mask on. Even if the mask was cracked to hell and Tommy could see the hero's eyes, there was no doubt that they were one of the newer heroes who only just joined the field.

Makes sense, whoever they were trying to fight must have been a higher classed villain. Newer heroes usually make the mistake of going after them. They get too big for the boots with all the praise from the media and think they could actually last in the real world.

The hero- Trance? Was severely injured from what Tommy saw. There was blood splattered all over his mask, clothes, and when Trance turned- Tommy almost got sick from the amount of blood.

It was pouring out of the hero's gut. The hero clutched his stomach and was limping heavily toward the street. The closer the hero got, the more Tommy could feel. 

He felt his powers throb behind his hands. They so desperately wanted to heal the wound. Tommy didn't feel this while he was around Tubbo.

It made Tommy crave the warm sensation of healing. He was so, so cold.

Tommy wanted to feel the skin stretch and stitch together underneath his fingers. It was a terrifying feeling to have. He wanted nothing more than to heal that man.

He can't heal him.

If Tommy were to heal him, people would find out he has healing powers. He would most likely be taken in and- he couldn't let another person die underneath his hands. Not again. Not like last time. Even… even if it would soothe his instincts. So Tommy ignored Trance’s whimpers and cries. He ignored the urge to grab him and fix him.

He ignored the muffled screams that echo down the alleyway. He ignores the memory of the villain's voice that sent shivers down his spine. He… couldn't help them. There was… nothing Tommy could do without hurting himself.

When the hero was long gone, Tommy sprinted all the way home in tears. That hero should be dead, he has to be dead. There was a chance- but the chance did not relieve Tommy's cries. 

Just forget about him, Tommy. Healing him would have cost him everything.

In his frantic running, Tommy didn't notice that someone was watching him from the shadows. The person turned and opened the door the hero ran through earlier. The screaming suddenly went quiet with a yelp.

The villain had a witness and that just wouldn't do.

—

Tommy was huddled underneath his favorite blanket in his dark closet. The clothes he hastily threw in earlier acted as cushions for him. Tommy was curled into a ball struggling to breathe between sobs. 

He hasn't been home for long. His hands and ears still burned from the cold. Or are they burning from him clawing at them? He isn't sure.

Tommy had locked himself up in his room. He couldn't face anyone after what he had done. Was that even his fault? The emotions of leaving a man to potentially die had finally caught up to Tommy. It ate him up inside and left something nasty in its place. He felt like a monster.

The events of the day played through his mind. Cleaning, working, new coworker, walking home, and witnessing a crime scene. 

-Blood oozed through his hands as he pulled the wound further and further to see the contents of Trance’s stomach like he was dissecting-

Tommy had no idea what went wrong. Perhaps he should have helped? Or maybe he should have ran when he first heard the blood curtailing scream? Maybe he should have stayed at the cafe and asked Niki if she could take him home? He has asked before. 

‘Take my wallet if you want it, now'

Huh? Tommy's phone has been ringing for the past ten minutes. How has he not noticed it? ‘Jump in the Cadillac’ was playing over and over from Tommy's phone. The ringtone was the result of a bet gone wrong. 

He has yet to change it and whenever someone called it reminds him of the fucking bet that he really couldn’t have won in hindsight. It made Tommy chuckle wetly.

‘Jump in the Cadillac’

‘Girl, let's put some miles on it’

Fine! Anything but that god awful ringtone! Tommy uncurled himself from his comfort blanket and patted himself down for the phone. Eventually, he was able to fish it from his pocket. Of course, there were 9 missed calls from Tubbo. 

That... Isn't surprising. Tommy had called earlier and Tubbo might be freaking out. Even more, so that Tommy hasn't been answering. Tommy answered the phone and the insufferable ringtone finally stopped.

“Tommy! Where the fuck have you been big man? You haven’t been answering any of my calls.”

Ah, right. He can't tell Tubbo anything about what just happened. What just happened? Tommy looks down at the time on his phone. 

It was close to one in the morning. It's been hours since his walk home, yet it feels like it just happened. Tommy’s breathing stopped and somehow Tubbo could hear it through the speaker on his phone. Or it seemed like he could hear it.

“Big man are you good? You've been very quiet.” He let out a stuttering breath to calm himself down.

He can't hide the fact that he's been crying for hours. Not from his best friend. So Tommy will have to make up another lie. He hates that he's been lying a lot lately. It eats at him like how he left that man for dead. It's a terrible and gross feeling. But it has to be done. For his survival at least.

“I'm so sorry for not answering you earlier bud. I was… at work.” Breathe in, breathe out Tommy. Tubbo was just- What?

“You're good Big T, it's just been a bad week is all. Stress has been eating me up lately.” His words sound fake and forced.

There is no way Tubbo could believe them. Not even Tommy believed Tubbo’s excuse. The workshop was closed when he walked by. Unless he got another job? Tubbo would have let him know if he did, Right? 

Tubbo’s laugh sounded stressed when he replied. “Same boss man, this week has been a total shitshow.”

Tommy felt more comfortable after they fell into silence. They were just enjoying each other's company over the phone. Even with all the lies that neither wanted to address. It was nice and it chased most of Tommy's nerves away. 

He really misses Tubbo. Maybe he'll go visit him soon. Last night was the first visit in months. School has picked up for both of them so now they only have time for phone calls. Yeah, Tommy will visit soon and they could just play minecraft together.

Minutes turned into hours. He could see the light from the sunrise filter through the curtains over his window. Tubbo has stopped responding and Tommy is suspicious that he may have fallen asleep.

"Tubbo? Big T? Are you awake?" There was no response. "I'm hanging up, bud, I need a few hours of sleep as well."

He hung up and leaned against the wall.

Tommy still hasn't left the closet but he wasn't crying anymore. The terrible feeling that may have been guilt was still sitting heavily in his chest. The feeling was more manageable now that he has spoken to someone. Everything still hurts, but he can manage it, he can get through this. 

Tommy lies back down into the pile of blankets and clothes. He pulls a red blanket over his head and shifts into the pile to make himself more comfortable. He's not ready to leave his closet but the rotting feeling is mostly gone.

Maybe… he can fall asleep. Tommy closes his swollen eyes and tries to sleep.

Sleep came but it was filled with nightmares.

Bodies fell to the floor screaming for him to help them, for him to relieve them of their pain. Trance was begging for Tommy to sew up his wounds as his blood gurgled through his teeth.

His father...he was...he was screaming as well.

Everyone was on their knees begging him. Begging him to use his powers to save them. And if Tommy was awake, he would have noticed how the tips of his fingers were now black instead of his normal skin tone. He would have noticed the anger that was swirling into a storm threatening to take over. He would have noticed that those people were once real.

But Tommy was asleep, and his nightmares were just that.

Nightmares.

Right?

Chapter Text

Tommy found himself crouching beside a blank figure, a sewing needle gripped tightly in his hand. There was blood everywhere . Blood on the hospital's tile, blood on the operating table, blood soaked deep into his scrubs. A muted fear had settled deep in his chest, sluggish but definitely was starting to suffocate him. Breaths came in short and fast, in time with his erratic beating heart. 

He didn't want to start. He didn't want to fail so badly that it was his fault that this man died. 

The stab wound seemed deep but Tommy barely knew how to judge this. Was it deep enough for stitches? It seemed so. Tommy grabbed the towel he used earlier. It was blue... Workshop towels? H-hospital towels or… The towel probably isn't the best thing to clean it with but he's gotta work with what he has. Grabbing the bottle full of chemicals, Tommy poured some on the cleanest part of the towel. He dabbed at the wound to clean it up and received a weak hiss from his patient. 

Tommy placed the needle down so he could get a grip on the skin around the wound. He needed to push the sides together before stitching, right? That seemed right. It also seemed oh so wrong. So that's exactly what he did. Tommy pinched the two sides of the wound until the ripped edges were close enough to sew together somewhat evenly.

When he pushed both sides closed, he felt a strange warmth in his hands. Tommy dazedly looked down at the warmth, mesmerized by the glowing. The warm feeling stitched and weaved underneath his hold. Tommy stared at it, a muted something was swirling in his gut as the raw edges glowed with new life.

The heat which felt like a welcoming fire to begin with was becoming unbearable, it felt feverish and all Tommy wanted to do was let go. But he soon realized that he couldn't.

Tommy finally was able to feel the muted feeling in his chest blood and grip his heart in an iron grip. It was panic. He tried yanking his hands away from the pT at U ie BB nt' Os arm. Tommy's dull and chewed nails only dug into the stitching skin in retaliation. The burning sensation felt like he shoved his hands into an oven on max settings or maybe even a bowl of molten lava. It felt like his skin was supposed to be peeling and bubbling off.

The emptiness burned away with the fire and was replaced with icy fear that gripped his heart refusing to let go. Everything felt all too real. The feeling that Tommy was watching afar was burned away making him live in reality once more. Two heartbeats echoed in the room, one was his own, and… the other was fading.

Tommy's veins were slowly turning black, chasing up his arms and disappearing underneath his sleeves. It feels like poison, is this poison? Tommy sobbed out loud, fat tears ran down his face and turned into steam. It burned his eyes but Tommy couldn't blink, everything burned. 

His mouth was painfully dry as if he went through three shifts at the cafe without drinking anything leaving his throat bloody and raw. His mouth tasted like ash and iron, similar to that of blood. Did Tommy bite his tongue? With him gritting his teeth down and hissing at the pain, that very well could have happened.

Tubbo’s arm was charred underneath Tommy's hand. He watched as the soft and fragile flesh slowly turned to ash instead of the weaving pattern it was creating before. Tommy yanked and yanked to try and pull his hands away but they wouldn’t budge. He screamed and begged desperately to get his hands released. Tommy fell to his knees and placed his head on the couch.

He babbled wordlessly, praying that this was all just a nightmare, that none of this was real. It couldn’t be real! No no no no, this wasn't real, none of this was happening. He was asleep, sleeping, he was sleeping. Then everything froze when he spoke the fact out loud, claiming that this was just a dream.

A raspy voice rang out, “So this is just a dream, huh?”

Tommy couldn't breathe anymore.

A hand grabbed his arm making Tommy flinch. He looked up to find Tubbo’s lifeless eyes staring at him. The arm underneath him was crumbling to ash, the only thing that was still there were his blackened bones and charred tendon clinging on. Fire spread all along Tubbo licking at his flesh. Third degree burns trailed all along his side, the side that Tommy still clutched with an unrelenting grip.

Tubbo sneered at him. “Does this look like a dream to you?”

Blood bubbled out of Tubbos mouth.

“Aww is Tommy scared?”

Tubbo grabbed his chin and forced Tommy to watch as one of his friend's brown eyes popped. His screams were loud and piercing. Liquids and blood poured out of the eye socket and evaporated when they made it past his cheekbone. Smoke curled around both of them, causing Tommy to cough his lungs out.

His friend's grip tightened only causing what was left of his skin to crack and flake away revealing the charred bones underneath. Tommy shook his head.

Tubbo peered into the terrified eyes of Tommy. “You're so pathetic. Can't even stand the consequences of your own actions.”

Tubbo slowly sat up and inched his way closer to where Tommy was frozen. Patches of charred skin would flake off revealing muscle and bone underneath. When Tubbo got close enough, Tommy was visibly shaking. The heat was so unbearable. Shame, fear, panic, and apprehension curled dangerously in his gut creating such a disturbing feeling it made him want to hurl. People who he had forgotten in his memories resurfaced just to whisper dark words into his ears that cut deeper than any knife ever could.

His friend pressed his forehead onto Tommy's and whispered to him. “Why did you heal me?”

Tommy whimpered, suddenly unfrozen from his stupor, and desperately tugged at his hands trying to let go of Tubbo's arm.

“You knew what would happen,” Tubbo spat.

After a particularly harsh tug, Tommy heard a rip and fell backward. Tommy desperately crawled backwards trying to get further and further away from Tubbo. Tubbo stood up and screamed in anger. The arm that Tommy had a tight grip on slid out of the charred long sleeve that Tubbo was wearing. The arm that was still on fire hit the ground with a thump. The carpet and the couch were slowly burning and before Tommy knew it, the fire grew and licked at anything and everything within its reach.

Tubbo threw his arms open gesturing to the house that was slowly burning and insinuating his missing arm.

“Look what you've done Tommy!” Tubbo screamed at him.

He turned in a full circle. The fire was spreading to the curtain hung by the window.

“Did you not learn from your mistakes? Did you not learn that you can’t fix everything? That you just take and take and take and don’t even think about what you break!” Tubbo spat.

His friend quickly approached him faster than Tommy could crawl. Tubbo grabbed Tommy's collar on his shirt and lifted him up, choking him in the process. There was a fire in Tubbo's empty eye socket.

Tubbo waited a second before screeching again. “DID YOU?”

Tommy frantically shook his head back and forth sobbing and pleading for mercy.

Tubbo only laughed at the reaction. “Aww, did I hit a sore spot?” He crooned.

The soft mocking voice hurt worse than the yelling making him sicker than he was before. Tommy, sad to say, slid into a role that he usually played when his mother got violent. He tried to let his mind slip away but before he could really do it Tubbo slammed Tommy into the wall, sneering at the pleading.

“YOU NEVER GAVE THEM MERCY! WHY SHOULD I GIVE YOU ANY?” He slammed Tommy again causing him to gasp in pain only to swallow ash and smoke.

Tommy coughed trying to get any sort of oxygen to his lungs as tiny black dots danced in his vision. The fire surrounded both of them now. Walls of molten heat trapped them to that one wall.

“You hurt and ruined so many lives Tommy, and for what? Just so you can make it through another day of your pitiful and useless life?”

Tubbo tightened his hold, choking Tommy in the process. Half of his friend's face slid off revealing a bloody skull underneath. The skin fell to the floor with a sickening plop like goo.

“Why should you live and not them?”

Tommy felt the room spinning, he tried to cough but only a strangled noise came out.

A cruel and twisted smile appeared on his friend's face. “If only killing you would bring them all back…” Tubbo whispered.

Cold shivers ran down Tommy’s spine despite the hot temperature.

“But killing you would bring justice to those who died.”

Tommy was slammed into the wall behind him knocking what breath Tommy seemed to have left. He raised his shaking and burnt hands to lightly grip Tubbo's arm weakly trying to pull them from his charred neck.

Tubbo leaned in and whispered something into Tommy's ear.

“I wonder… How long would it take for this to actually happen again? Would someone beg you to save them to only have their life stolen and whatever chance they had at living?”

Tubbo slammed him into the wall again. The miniature dots now obscured most of his vision.

“Or… would the heroes find out that this was never a fluke and that you did everything they asked you to with a smile on your face?” Another slam. 

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you? But I guess it became too real when your father was brought in, huh? You just had to run, didn’t you? Couldn’t look your idol in the eyes after everything? Fucking coward!”

“Hey, Tommy?” He didn't react to the soft voice that had rung clear in his mind.

Tubbo slammed Tommy into the wall in frustration. “This may be a dream right now Tommy…” Tubbo whispered, the dangerous tone caused his arms to grow weak in fear and lost their grip on Tubbos arm.

“Tommy?”

“But this could always happen, couldn't it? You're just as bad as the villains and the heroes that have hurt you, aren't you?” More tears ran down Tommy's face. His sobs were loud and ugly but he couldn't care less. He just wanted the pain to stop.

“TOMMY!”

The world tilted dangerously as a support beam crashed into Tubbo. His friend's grip on Tommy loosened and caused Tommy to fall and smack his head against the floor when he fell as well. Tommy watched as the remains of Tubbos' brains oozed out of his head. The eye that remained dangled from just a thread. Fire started consuming him as well as Tommy sobbed and screamed for the burning to just stop-

Water splashed all over Tommy dousing the fire that surrounded and burned him.

“Shit-” Tommy sat up rigid with shallow breaths. He had a hand placed over his heart as he tried to- to comprehend what just happened.

“You good Tommy?” Tommy looked over to come face to face with a coworker of his, Ranboo.

The teen wore a dual colored mask and a pair of sunglasses that were covered in flour. His hand was raised holding a cup now empty of water, its contents soaking through Tommy’s shirt.

“Y-yeah,” Tommy stammered as he quickly tried himself together.

“Yeah, I'm good… Boob boy.” His shoulder was slapped at the insult, and while it stung Tommy only laughed.

Ranboo shook his head in mock disappointment. “Are you sure? That was some nasty nightmare you had. I heard you screaming from the kitchen.”

Tommy nodded. He must have fallen asleep on his break then. Whoever was in the back usually woke him up whenever he did that, which was pretty often. Going to school and then working a five hour shift is exhausting. Especially when you get home late and then have to do chores and homework before you go to bed.

Wait, screaming? Oh god, he was screaming like some wild banshee. He was getting fired!

Ranboo seemed to sense what Tommy was thinking as he bent down to reassure him. “No one heard your screaming, Tommy. You’re definitely not going to get fired for anything out of your control, just like how you weren’t fired for setting the kitchen on fire.” Ranboo finished smugly.

“That wasn’t on purpose!” Tommy raised his hand in the air in exasperation. 

“Exactly…” Ranboo hovered nervously around Tommy as he reached over to grab a hand towel and wipe himself down.

“I’m fine now.” He looked over to the clock hanging on the wall in the break room.

“Damn, my shift is almost over.” Tommy stood up from the chair he had been napping on. The table that he rested his head on was soaked.

Ranboo let him go easily after that.

Closing up was boring, easily the worst part of his shift. It was even worse without Wilbur there. The usual sarcastic Victorian ghost livened up the place oddly enough. Now there was just the sound of old 2000s music in the background and him mopping the floor.

“Hey, Tommy?” Tommy turned to see Ranboo poking his head out from the kitchen.

“If you don’t need anything I’ll be heading out!” Tommy shrugged him off and watched the guy leave with a forced smile on his face. It wasn’t that he hated Ranboo, they hardly ever worked the same shifts and in extension means they never talk.

And now Tommy doesn’t even want to talk to him. Ranboo saw him in a really embarrassing moment of weakness. Ran didn’t say anything, he wasn’t rude. Tommy just wondered what he heard, what he saw, what he was thinking.

Would Ranboo think of him as a monster if he knew? Like Tubbo would? Like every other pat-

His grip on the mop tightened.

Nah, he was just overthinking, like always. Tommy sat the mop back in the bucket filled with soapy water. 

It was just a nightmare.

—

Blood was splattered across the untouched snow. The snowflakes that floated in the air were sharp as icicles, slicing everything in their path. The wind was harsh and biting as merciless as the beings that hunt in its wake. The ground had frozen over and gave no grip for any cars or boots to cross. The howling was mocking and was somehow music to his ears.

If the screaming and chanting of hundreds of voices could be considered music.

“Protesilaus, surrender now.”

Techno lifted his head up from the droplets of blood that had already frozen over. His eyes traced the landscape leisurely until they landed on the man who had called out to him. The man was perfectly average, with the same training spandex and decorated mask that all young heroes seem to wear before they find a brand to better suit the public.

The mask this hero wore was white with a bright green smiley face drawn sloppily on it. The spandex didn’t do much to fight the hostile cold, leaving the poor hero shivering and ultimately humiliating himself if this were to be recorded and aired online. The other hero to the Smiley guys left was at least wearing a hoodie over the thin suit. The mask this hero was wearing was a lower half face mask, blue, with white sporty goggles to cover the man's eyes.

Smiley Face and Goggles man… Those masks weren’t familiar, not even to Technoblade.

Techno tilted his head watching the quivering heroes shrink slightly under his gaze. It was amusing for the two to still be putting up a fight even after the fact that they had not even earned a scratch on him. While they had wounds that oozed blood and puss.

“Who are the heroes that dare to speak such a command?” 

His voice echoed off the walls and was swept away by the wind. Even with that, the heroes had still heard him, tensing in preparation.

“I am Trance, Number Forty-Five.” Smiley Face man called out first. He stood still for a second as if waiting for Techno to realize who he was and grovel.

“I am Obelisk, Number Forty-Six.”

“And?” Techno prompted with a slight tease.

The two heroes looked at each other and gave a stiff nod. Techno had no idea what that was about but the cruel grin that pulled at his teeth fell. He hated when heroes look at each other like that like they have a plan that could take him down. It was rather boring after the first thrill he had gotten years ago, now it was like that was all the heroes knew how to do, repeat past mistakes.

Because it was a mistake. You’d think heroes would look up information on the villains they decide to hunt down and challenge. Protesilaus was a villain of the dramatics, loving to draw out fights and make them rather bloody. Technoblade was a man of boredom actively seeking out new thrills to keep him on the edge. Train and Orbeeze were startup wannabes looking for fame.

He can give them fame.

Trance leveled his sword.

“You’ll do well to remember our names,” The hero said coolly. “It will be us who you curse for putting you behind bars for the rest of your life.”

Techno tilted his head to the other side. He used his left hand to brush the red wooly cloak away, revealing the sheathe for his sword. His right hand reached down to loosely grip the hilt of this sword.

“Is that so,” Techno drawled. His lips twitched up into a smirk once again. Neither hero rose to the bait.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Don’t let those pretty words go to waste.” With that, the hand that gripped his sword tensed and he drew the sword quicker than any of the two heroes could process.

The black metal of the sword didn’t reflect light, seemingly swallowing what was already around it. Black smoke trailed after it as Techno swung it forward. With an evil cackle, it sliced through the air and attacked the two heroes.

Trance and Obelisk were able to dodge at the last second, one in a ninja roll and the other just flat out diving. Black fire ate away at everything around it, spreading further and further. Though, somehow, the snow did not melt. The fire burned cold, a more fitting end to a man's life than the burning passion of normal fire.

Techno waved the sword and held it to his side watching with a wide smile that neither hero could see. Trance was the first one up, unsurprisingly, as he was the one who had not plainly dived out of the way. The sword the hero was holding had been discarded and seemed to be exchanged by the way his hands were starting to glow green and his own wisps of fog swirled around him.

Interesting, Techno thought. He hadn’t studied up on the newer heroes in a long while. The newest he had last touched upon are either dead, crippled, recruited, or well became the government's dolls. Trance was a gray area for Techno and he couldn't be even more excited. Thrill rushed through his veins at the promise of power, something challenging for him. He does hope the young hero lives up to his expectations.

Trance thrusted his hand forward and at once the green smoke rose and shaped itself into a long beam. It was aimed at Techno, the green toxin light shot every which way making it hard to see what side it was going to attack. All he needed to do to dodge was to turn his shoulder to the side. The green light bellowed past him and slammed into a tall brick building behind him, exploding the side of the wall. Bricks rained down but Techno didn’t care to watch the damage the hero had done. 

Trance stood frozen staring at the damage he had caused. Techno quietly chuckled to himself and took a step toward the frozen hero. That is until he was plunged into darkness, an inky nothingness.

Techno glanced both ways calmly. There was no way that was Trance’s doing. The way the man's powers appeared, it wouldn’t have suited this void like appearance at all. So this must be Obelisk's powers at play. Though, that didn’t seem to fit the way the hero had held himself. Techno glanced over at a small slice of light.

When he turned, he was in front of his old childhood bedroom.

Perhaps… this did fit the hero after all. There was no sign of weapons on the hero. Not a single flash grenade on the guy's belt, no, there weren’t even any bags hanging off of it. Why would the hero need it? Not if he can catch the villain distracted and trap them in their worst nightmare. Once you do that, arresting them is easy.

Illusions. Such a pity, Techno mused. It would have been rather fun to fight without all his senses for once. The illusion, while not fragile, was rather disinteresting. Seeing a bad memory he had already overcome years ago was boring. Lesser people would fall for this and Techno was not a lesser person.

The bedroom gave way to fire, the younger version of himself screamed and cried but Techno did not flinch. He would not flinch. It was fabricated so it does not deserve his real actions and emotions. What it deserves is to go on fire like Obelisk.

Noise hit Techno like a brick making him stumble from overstimulation. “Trance!” Obelisk cried. He was rolling around in the snow trying to put himself out. Trance was quickly by his side throwing snow on him in a panic.

“A shame,” Techno muttered. Fire burned all around them but Techno was sure the heroes didn’t notice that nothing was actually burning. Techno reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of seemingly normal handcuffs. “Honestly I expected better.”

Trance stood up from the screaming Obelisk shakily. “I-i’m going to kill you,” he spat. 

Techno smiled and tilted his head. “Is that so? You couldn’t keep your last promise so I’m having a hard time believing you’ll keep this one,” mocked Technoblade.

Techno pushed off the ground with one foot and tackled Trance to the ground. They fell with a hard thump. The hero’s head bounced on the hard concrete and groaned. Techno grabbed one of the hero’s wrists and wrestled for the other one. Once Trance realized what Techno was doing he renewed his struggle. Sadly, his movements were sluggish and thick with pain making it all that much easier for Techno to handcuff him.

“Don’t worry Trance,” Techno bared his teeth at the man.

“I’m not going to kill you.” He clutched the hero’s head in one hand and stared into the empty pit of the eye holes in the mask knowing he was making eye contact.

“Yet,” he promised and slammed the guy's head into the ground.

Looking over he found that the flames had died out and Obelisk lay on the ground passed out from pain.

Seemed that everything worked out in the end after all.

—

Water splashed down onto the two sleeping heroes. The cold drove them into shock as they sat still for a moment trying to understand where they were and what was happening. Their chests heaved with fear and soon they started squirming, trying to find weaknesses in their bonds that were not there.

The two chairs that the heroes were restricted in were leaned against each other facing opposite walls. The chairs were positioned in the center of a generic room. Thick drapes were drawn over the windows to the outside. No one can see in and no one can see out. The room was the lobby or what seemed to be a lobby of an abandoned apartment complex.

Techno dropped the metal bucket he had been holding and crossed his arms. “This is Trance and-”

“And Obelisk. Of course, how would I not know them? They are perfect, thank you.” Phil patted his son's shoulder offering a slight smile that was tucked under a mask. His son did not give any reaction but Phil did not let that throw him off.

The heroes finally gained a sense of reality and stared at Phil.

“What a pleasure to see you both! Honestly, I'm a huge fan of you two. One of the few hero duos out there that didn’t become the president's laptop in a week, tops.”

Phil’s voice gained the attention of the heroes-their prey. Even with the masks, Phil could easily tell that they were confused- scared even. Though, Trance’s body language betrayed his anger. Odd thing for people to do, cover up their emotions with anger.

“What do you want from us? Why are we here, Zephyrus?”

Trance's voice isn't what Phil had imagined. It was high- friendly even. Well not friendly as of the moment. But he could see how friendly the hero might be in his civilian outfit. Or how well received he would be by the press as a hero.

“Straight to the point, yeah? I can understand that.” The silence Trance offers tells Phil that he was listening, or simply he just refused to indulge. Not that it matters, they always indulge Phil in the end.

“You see, the Syndicate has been around for a while.” Phil approached the heroes watching as their bodies tensed in apprehensiveness. He began to circle them, making sure to block out the light whenever he could.

“We have the best of the best. Fighters, powers, technicians…” He grabbed Obelisk’s chin and lifted his face so they could lock eyes.

Obelisk squirmed but with being tied up, he had no choice but to obey.

“There is one thing we are looking for. And you! You can help us!” He dropped his chin suddenly and Obelisk’s head bounced before he leveled his eyes with a glare. People don’t like to be reminded of how easily they are trapped within a trap of their own making.

Phil walked slowly over to Trance. He kneeled down and used his wings to block out the light of the shitty lamp Techno had placed. He absolutely loved to watch his prey wiggle and fight the trap they found themselves in. It was euphoric! He should do these things more often.

“You are heroes after all. Your whole thing is helping people in need, right?” Phil suddenly stood up and put his hand on his chin contemplatively.

“Well, that was how it was the last time I checked. Though from what I hear, some of you are just as corrupted and rotted as us villains.”

“We aren't like you ,” Trance growled. 

“Sure, Trance. I’m not here to fight you on what is or isn’t. We just want one thing, then we'll let you go. It's pretty simple. Not hard for an agency who has an abundance of them, of course.” Phil walked back over to his son who had been leaning against the wall with a foot propped up watching the whole thing. Techno secretly passed over a knife to Phil making sure it was kept out of the hero's sight.

“You don't deserve anything from us-” Obelisk’s cruel words were cut off with a shriek. 

A knife flew right in front of Trance’s face, successfully slicing through the plastic of the mask Trance wore and embedding itself into the wall. Phil can see why his son chose these heroes. They were cocky- Techno has always loved breaking cocky heroes.

“ I , choose if you leave this place alive.”

Obelisk flinched.

“We were hoping- or really I was hoping that we didn't have to hurt you two. This could have been a peaceful meeting. It still can be! Just give us the information we need.” Phil walked back over to the heroes. They were facing him the best they could. Straining their necks to keep an eye on him.

Obelisk squeaked out a response. “What do you need!” Trance headbutted Obelisk, but the damage has already been done. Phil gave a sharp smile.

“I'm so glad you asked Obelisk!” Phil clasped his hands together.

“Someone here has half the mind to keep their skin on their bones.” Trance growled and continued to fight the bonds. His eyes glowed for a second but only for a second. With a gasp Trance’s eyes went back to normal.

Phil walked over to the hero who was still gasping for air when their powers were forced right back into them. He gripped the hero's chin making sure his claws drew blood. Once their eyes were leveled Phil smiled.

“We want a healer.”

Healers are the most prized in the government. Once a kid who shows healing abilities is old enough to fully use them they are taken in. Trained and trained and trained until they could heal the worst injuries. Phil knew that some healers have drawbacks. Some would get massive headaches and others could feel their patients' pain. He didn't care about the drawback of the healer, he just wanted one. No- not want, they needed one.

The hero corporation has only so many healers. The ones they do have are overworked and underpaid. Hell, Phil is sure they don't even get paid. It is seen as a privilege to work as a hero. It's only a privilege for those who have nowhere else to go. Even that is a stretch.

“We only want one. That's not too much to ask for, right?” Trance snapped out of his shock and tried to rip his head from Phil's grasp. He only held on tighter, now feeling the blood start to run down his fingers when his claws sunk into skin.

“If you would like, we could work out a compromise, you know. Perhaps we could set-”

“FUCK YOU! No healer would ever work for you fuckers, even if you had threatened their entire family! They would rather die thank be disloyal and be used up by you!”

Phil glared at the hero who seemed satisfied by finally angering him. Cocky- Phil hates cocky heroes. He stood up to his full height and slowly walked over to his son. His feet dragged on the floorboards as he walked. Phil hoped they couldn’t see the anger that lined every muscle in his body. Phil stood next to his son who is no longer leaning against the wall.

“Have at it Protesilaus.”

That was when all hell broke loose. Techno picked up his knife and walked over to Obelisk. It seems both Phil and Techno were on the same wavelength. Obelisk is the weaker link. 

Techno buried the knife into Obelisk’s upper thigh. The screaming was loud and high pitched. Phil knows Techno usually likes the screaming of his victims but it seems like he doesn't have the patience today. Techno ripped the mask off 404 and gagged him with it. The screaming was still loud but was at least manageable.

The good thing about being on this side of L’manburg was that rarely anyone came this way. The ones that do? They know how to mind their own damn business. They really had no worry about silencing them.

Trance was pleading, his cries were wet with tears. It was pitiful to see the way the hero folded like wet cardboard. The cockiness has fully left him. Perhaps the two heroes were more than friends. From the way they are reacting, it would appear so.

"What are you doing to him-? What the fuck- what the fuck-!"

Techno’s gruff and monotone voice responded to the cries. “This could all stop if you just give us what we want.”

“ Never! ” Is what Trance spat out in fury.

Techno duh the knife in grinding into the bone. The sobs that were torn out of Obelisk were muffled with fabric and tears. He then ripped the knife out of 404 who responded with a muffled scream.

Techno walked over to Trance. “You want Obelisk to live, yeah? Here's the deal, I'll give you a week to hand us a healer or I'll slit his throat and hang him off the hero tower.”

Phil laughed at his son's antics but wholeheartedly agreed to them. Pride swelled in his chest.

“Since we're so nice, we’ll even let the healer fix up your bud over here afterward.”

A minute or two passed and Phil could tell Techno was getting impatient. His son looked over to him for confirmation. He gave his son a nod of approval and watched as he faced the hero. Techno raised the knife and prepared to plunge it into the goggles-wearing hero’s other leg.

Obelisk screamed in anticipation. Wiggling and squirming to get away from the knife stained with his own blood.

“FINE! Fine… I'll do it, just don’t hurt him anymore!” Techno slashed his chest. The blood curdling scream Trance let out filled Phil with joy.

He watched his son kneel down to eye level with the hero with a smile on his face. “Good.”

Techno unlocked the chains around Trance. The chains fell to the floor with a clink and before the hero could make a run for it, Techno roughly dragged Trance up from the seat.

The hero tried to fight but ultimately failed against the strong grip of his son. As his son led the hero to the door, Phil kept an eye on Obelisk. He was sobbing the more he accidentally tensed up the leg that was stabbed. Blood leaked from the wound and stained the pretty hero's outfit crimson. Phil heard the rope that tied Trance's hands and feet drop to the floor behind him.

“The longer it takes for you to bring back a healer, the more fucked Obelisk will be. Might want to get a strong enough healer to heal those wounds.” Phil heard a sharp intake of air come from Trance. Perhaps the hero finally learned to bite his tongue.

“If you tell anyone about this, we will cut off every limb Obelisk has and feed it to him.” With that Phil heard the sound of the exit door opening.

“Run little hero.”

Trance hit the ground hard and there was a small crack sound though the hero quickly got to his feet. Seems like nothing physically broke. Techno kept the door open and watched the hero stumble. After what seemed like an unnecessarily long time for him to wait Phil decided to say something.

“Mate?”

“There was a witness. I should go chase him down.” Phil reached out and grabbed his son's shoulder before he left to chase the poor witness.

“It's fine mate,” Phil assured him. “If the person knows-”

“Kid. It was a kid.”

Phil hummed. Poor unfortunate kid. What would one be doing here in all places?

“If the…kid knows what's good for them they will keep their mouth shut.” Phil gently pushed his son back inside and when the door clicked shut behind him was when Techno spoke up.

“What if he doesn't, then what? Are we going to let some random kid ruin our plan?” Techno waved his hands in the air.

“Trust me.” Phil looked over at Obelisk. Their eyes met and Phil could see the absolute terror in the hero's eyes.

“There won't be anything for the heroes to find anyways.”

Chapter Text

Shifting around Tommy slowly became aware that he was not sleeping in his bed.

No springs were pressing up into his back or a crack in his neck from his pillow that was so flat that it could be a mini-sized blanket. There was a crick in his neck though but it was from sleeping on the floor.

Tommy yawned as he moved again trying to recall why he had woken up.

Looking around he realized that he had actually fallen asleep in his closet. Which surprisingly wasn’t his first time doing this type of thing.

Why the hell was he in the closet anyway? Tommy’s head was fuzzy and his mind was slowly waking. Smacking around Tommy eventually found his phone. Pressing the power button he waited for the phone to turn on. Which it didn’t.

Fuck.

“Damn, this day is off to a great start, huh?” Tommy murmured to himself. Tommy was tired. Like a spiritually deep type of tiredness. Even after a long day of school and a particularly horrible day of work he hasn't felt this type of tired. 

It made him feel snappy and cold. It made him want to curl back under his blanket and scowl at the world. It also made him sad, weary. It made him want to shut the world out and never talk to anyone again. 

He hates this feeling.

It might have to do with the guilt that still lays heavily in his chest. Or the fact he slept on the hard floor in his closet that barely fit him. That's probably it, the lack of proper sleep. 

Not… not the terrible, disgusting feeling he's been having since Tubbo appeared on his doorstep bleeding. And most definitely not the feeling of dread that has been weighing heavy on his shoulders telling him that something awful is going to happen.

Tommy pushed himself up off the ground with a huff of exertion. His joints snapped and popped like a glowstick. Tommy pushed open the closet door and searched for the time on his alarm clock.

“Oh yeah. Definitely going to be a bad day,” he sighed.

The bright red numbers on the alarm clock basically sealed Tommy’s fate of a bad day. Not like yesterday wasn’t already bad. Now it's going to be a series of unfortunate days. What luck.

He grunted as he pulled himself out of his tiny closet, back protesting any movement already. 

With only an hour to get ready and to make the walk to work, Tommy already dreaded being late. He wasn’t late very often, not like he could afford to be, needing the money and all. 

Being late always made him feel bad.

Finally wiggling his way out of the closet Tommy turned around to grab his work uniform from the hanger in his closet.

“Ah. I forgot to do the laundry again,” Tommy sighed. He was already feeling the need to cry with frustration.

“Fine, I’ll just wear my uniform from yesterday. It should be clean enough…”

The memory of coffee spilling all over him, again, emerged at the forefront of his mind. Tommy’s pink shirt was horribly stained by the coffee. He had tried to scrub it out but had given up when he realized it wasn’t going to scrub out.

Not only was he going to be late for work he also wasn’t going to be in uniform when he did.

“It will be fine. I’m sure Niki won’t mind too much.”

He reached out to grab a red and white baseball shirt off its hanger. Looking it over it seemed to be pretty clean. He pulled off his work shirt from the night before to now threw his clean shirt on. Eyeing his usual work pants they look clean enough for another shift.

Tommy plucked his blue coat from his bed and quickly made his way to his bathroom. He flossed and brushed his teeth hurriedly, not really worrying if they were properly clean. Most likely not cleaning them at all in his haste really. 

When he looked into the mirror and saw his rats nest of hair he sighed heavily. He didn’t have time to try and detangle any of those curls.

Tommy splashed water onto his face. It was freezing cold but did wonders against the lull of sleep and still puffy eyes from crying. Rubbing more cold water into his face he looked up hoping to see a more lively version of himself.

Looking at his reflection Tommy couldn't help but notice how tired he looked with a grimace.

Dark eye bags were a stark contrast against his pale skin. It made him look like he holed himself up inside and refused to sleep. It wasn’t far from the truth really. He just wished his skin wouldn’t broadcast the truth so easily. 

His frown which used to be foreign is now permanently etched into his face. He tried to fake a smile, noticing how everything brightened when he did. It looked almost perfect. Like he was actually happy enough to smile without forced gratitude and friendliness.

Then he dropped his smile and it was almost like he invited the shadows to come back in. With his hair drooping into his face and his hooded eyes he looked dead. He definitely feels dead.

It hurts. Seeing how much has changed over the years.

It made the pit in his stomach deeper in a way Tommy didn’t even know he could feel worse. 

God, he was so tired. It weighed on him so heavily that it almost hurt. Scratch that, it does hurt.

The guilt that gnawed at him is now joined by a familiar feasting partner. A longing for the past. It was always there but now it hurt worse than usual. It dug and scratched him raw. 

Maybe he shouldn’t go to work. He would already be late and not to mention he hardly looks presentable for the day shift. Niki wouldn’t mind, not really. She would want him to take a day off to rest. She’s always complaining about how he works too many shifts to be healthy.

The thought of Wilbur popped into his mind. 

The smile he wore was so different from other people's smiles. A smile like that could never be directed at him but was always there when he looked at Wilbur. He was so filled with joy it was practically infectious, bleeding into Tommy like a welcome parasite.

It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside whenever he looked at him like that. So much better than that icky tar that ate everything inside.

Tommy wanted to see Wilbur again. 

It’s been a while since he’s felt this type of buzzing under his skin. He used to feel this way whenever he spent time with Tubbo only for that feeling to fade away the more their friendship strained. Tommy was excited to see Wilbur again.

And to see Wilbur he actually has to show up to his shift.

With a scowl, Tommy splashed water in his face one last time for good measure. 

He cupped his face in his hands as the water dripped down his forearms. It didn't do much to clear the aching tiredness but it did clear the fog from his head that was stubbornly sticking. 

Tommy looked up one last time. Maybe he would look less dead? That's when he felt it.

Underneath the aching tiredness was an itch underneath his fingertips. Tommy picked at his fingers hoping it would go away but the feeling was ever so persistent.

In Tommy’s expertise, this feeling was not a welcome one.

It was like something clicked in the back of Tommy’s mind. It was a little feeling that Tommy hardly noticed but knew what it was all the same.

This really was going to be the start of a pattern of horrible days, wasn't it?

He sighed and left the bathroom, making sure to turn all the lights out behind him. Tommy shrugged on his coat as he prepared all his stuff for work, making sure he had everything. Grabbing his backpack off the couch that he had thrown it on the previous night, he hoped to get some schoolwork done at some point that day.

He grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket. Even though it was dead Tommy hoped someone would have a charger he could borrow. 

After he made sure he had everything Tommy begrudgingly began the long trek to work.

—

Ranboo slid oven mitts over his hands. 

The first patch of sweets of this workday is done. The brownies smelt heavenly like they always do. Niki really did know how to make good pastries. Her recipes were always immaculate no matter if it was just a small sandwich or a three-tiered cake.

The pan was hot and nearly burnt his hands through the oven mitts when he grabbed it out of the oven. Ranboo sat down the pan of brownies on top of the stove, preparing to dust sugar over them. He took off the oven mitts and attached them to the handle of the oven door. He looked around the jars that were laid out on the counter looking for powdered sugar. Once found he lightly dusted some over the brownies.

He smiled under his mask in delight at how well the brownies had turned out. He was improving!

Ranboo opened a drawer near him already knowing what was inside. When slid open the utensils inside clanked against each other. Ranboo hardly needed to glance at the contents of the drawer to find the spatula he was looking for and to close the drawer with a swing of his hips.

He used the spatula to scoop the brownies off the pan and very carefully placed it on a platter that was going to be put in the display case.

With a hum, Ranboo grabbed the platter and spun around from his workstation to head out. Only to be interrupted by a stranger walking through the back door. Ranboo jumped and quickly eyed the person. An inspector? A guy from another shift? Tommy doesn't enter quietly, neither does Niki. Not to mention neither of them has brown hair. 

Is Ranboo being robbed?

Ranboo faced a man with curly brown hair. Thankfully they were wearing the cafe uniform. It was unstained and unwrinkled, new. So this man was a new hire then! Phew, Ranboo could feel his heart racing. Now that the new hire walked and Ranboo was face to face with him he could slightly remember Niki talking to him about this guy.

Sliding the platter back onto the counter. Nervously Ranboo spoke up, “You don’t need to lock that door back up. Tommy will come barreling through any moment now and he always forgets his keys.”

The new hire jumped and quickly pocketed his keys to face Ranboo. And oh, Ranboo knew why this guy seemed familiar now. Dread settled over him for the oncoming shift with this guy. Maybe if he spoke up to Niki when she’s done in her office he could figure out a schedule where he did not have to work with Wilbur ever again.

“Didn’t know you could get an actual job Ranboo,” Wilbur jeered.

“I thought you said you were too good for normal jobs.” A smug smile settled over his once panicked features. Arms crossed as he leaned his elbows on the other side of the counter Ranboo was at.

“Some of us don’t like using blood money to get what we want,” Ranboo murmured lowly. He almost wished he wasn’t wearing his mask and glasses. He wanted Wilbur to see his hatred in his expression. Maybe then he would fuck off.

Wilbur leaned his head back with a laugh. “Don’t act like you’re so perfect Ranboo because you’re not.”

Wilbur straightened up from the table. Posture straight and relaxed. He stuck a finger out and drew a circle in the air in his general direction, condescending. 

“You wouldn’t be alive if it weren't for blood money. Don’t think I forgot who you were Ranboo. I can’t really.” A sinister smile pulled at Wilbur's cheeks practically baring his teeth.

“It was just so horrific that it practically made me faint when I first saw it!”

Wilbur pulled himself up to sit on the counter. Ranboo’s hands tightened into balls, his nails cutting into the soft flesh. 

Now, Ranboo is tall, like unnaturally tall. He hasn’t really met anyone that has towered over him but he did hate that some tried to make themselves level with him as an intimidation tactic. Level like Wilbur, who was trying to make him feel smaller, weaker. He wouldn’t find that type of satisfaction.

“There’s no point to this,” Ranboo waved his hand. “Banter…”

“I understand that you don’t like me and I’m not going to lie and say that I don’t hate your guts,” Ranboo shrugged to himself.

“I can’t begin to understand why you have decided to be working at a small bakery because this isn’t your… usual scene.” Picking up the platter, Ranboo made his way to the front.

“You wouldn’t understand if I had told you,” Wilbur said as he followed through the push doors behind Ranboo.

“And I honestly don't care to know,” Ranboo retorted. He leaned down to open the glass to the display case and carefully slid the brownies in. He slowly stood up and glanced near the doors to see what time it was as he closed the lid to the case.

Shit. Tommy’s late.

“I like it here. Nice, quiet most of the time, and overly way better than my other job.” Ranboo turned to face Wilbur. Knowing him for as long as Ranboo has the ghostly appearance doesn’t throw him off as much as it used to.

Truthfully, Ranboo has grown some confidence in himself working here. A home away from home that Ranboo was content to stick with for as long as he was allowed to be. And he was going to milk every second he could.

Wilbur showing up could be a very bad omen for Ranboo and the state of his routine. It could jeopardize everything, really. Ranboo had plans in case things like this happened and he was just so lucky that it was Wilbur who walked through those doors and not anyone else.

He could be convincing. Very convincing. And it just so happens that his favorite coworker is working today.

Ranboo hummed. “I hate to break it to you, really. I believe that we’re here for very similar reasons. I know we can’t get along, the thought is just funny. That doesn’t mean we can’t be coworkers and not fuck with each other or mess anything up, right?”

“What do you say?” Ranboo spread his arms. “A calm place away from all the stress right now.”

Wilbur crossed his lanky arms as if he was thinking. Ranboo could tell that Wilbur already knew the verdict, had known since he had walked in by the look of acceptance flashed in his eyes. Wilbur wanted to stay in this normalcy just like Ranboo.

“I think I could agree with that,” Wilbur reluctantly agreed. “Just because I am accepting this is not because I like you. It’s because I like this job. And Niki.”

Ranboo snorted, “That I can agree on. Niki is pretty sick.”

—

Tommy strides into the kitchen with confidence, a joke at the tip of his tongue. 

He didn't notice that the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Wilbur and Ranboo were staring each other down. Seemingly glaring at each other waiting to see what the other would do. This is weird because Ranboo barely talks nor is he known for just starting arguments randomly. Ranboo isn't even a hostile guy. He avoids all conflict he possibly can.

"Hello boob boy, and Victorian bitch! The greatest person you will ever meet is here!" 

Ranboo rolled his eyes at Tommy and took a step back from Wilbur. Whatever talk they were having was left on hold. The tension in the air slowly dissipates. Wilbur squinted his eyes and made a show where he looked around the room obviously looking for something.

“Where?” Wilbur replied. 

Tommy was stunned for a second. “Where? What?” Wilbur then looked at him with a sly smile. “Where is the ‘greatest person you will ever meet’? I only see you and that lanky guy over there.” 

Rambo leaned over the counter. “I only see two late people here and a whole lot of stuff that needs to get done before morning rush.”

Wilbur turned to Ranboo with a frown. “I wasn’t late! You literally saw me clock in on time-”

Tommy huffed, offended at Wilbur calling him late. As Wilbur was distracted with arguing with Ranboo Tommy lazily looked over the room. It would be an understatement to say that Tommy's eyes didn’t light up when he saw an opened bag of flour leaning against the wall beside him.

An evil plan was already forming in Tommy’s find as he reached over to the bag for a handful. He knew he had eyes tracking his movement but as long as Wilbur didn’t see him then he couldn’t care less about Ranboo obviously shutting up as he spotted Tommy.

Wilbur groaned. “Tommy, back me up. I am not late to my first day of work that would be very-” Wilbur turned to face Tommy, eyes widening as he did so. “-stupid of me. Tommy, please don’t be doing what I think you’re about to do.”

Very sweetly Tommy replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As if there wasn’t an obvious handful of flour in his hands.

Wilbur took a step back. “Tommy, we can talk about this! Please do not throw flour at me-”

Tommy aimed. Tommy threw.

As the flour flew at Wilbur the man seemed to just flicker out of existence as the flour neared him only for it to pass completely through him and to land on Ranboo. The flour landed all over Ranboo, most of it coated his face. 

Ranboo coughed and tried to dust the flour out of his mask without taking it off. The flour was stuck in Ranboo’s hair, making it look like he dyed his hair completely white instead of the usual half and half. His uniform would definitely need washing as it was all over the apron and shirt. Good thing the apron was extremely easy to clean. Tommy knows from experience.

Tommy stared in shock before a snort escaped them. Then he started laughing so hard he had to grab his gut. “I- I’m so sor-”

Wilbur and Tommy filled the silence with their own laughter. Clearly enjoying Ranboo’s pain. Tommy’s eyes were closed tight with the amount of laughter coming from him. He clutched the counter to keep himself upright when just clutching his gut wasn’t helping. Wilbur's laugh was contagious only serving to make Tommy laugh harder. 

Then Tommy got hit in the face. “Pftt–”

He looked down to see himself covered in flour and to look up seeing that Ranboo had ducked behind the counter. Tommy reached over to grab another handful of flour but was tackled by Wilbur before he could reach.

Tommy let out a startled laugh when he hit the ground. Wilbur grinned, “Now we’re done-”

Somehow Tommy’s foot managed to connect with the bag of flour and knocked it over on top of themselves. Wilbur growled playfully, “You're so on!” They rolled around in the white fluffiness of powder, trying to pin one another but both failed miserably. 

The flour was absolutely everywhere. On the counter, underneath the counter. In every nook and cranny the flour could fit itself into. There was water that was split earlier and the flour absorbed it creating chunky pieces around that area. When the two ran out of breath they laid on their backs to look at the mass destruction they created. 

Tommy leaned back to see that Ranboo hadn’t been spared from Wilbur’s and Tommy’s fight. There was so much more flour on him. Ranboo was already brushing it off onto the floor.

“Alright, you two, up, up!”

Tommy sat up and felt some flour go down his shirt. He shivered at the weird intrusive feeling. Wilbur has also sat up, when he looked at him the man whistled. “That is a lot of flour.”

And it was. The flour bag was almost full when Tommy grabbed a fist full earlier. Now it lies on the floor with a quarter of its former glory.

Ranboo chuckled, “Now who's going to help me clean up so we can get ready for morning rush and not get yelled at by Niki?”

Tommy and Wilbur groaned but both feared their boss so they eventually got up and helped. Tommy did the sweeping, Wilbur did the dishes, and Ranboo did the baking. Which is unfair because he actually likes baking. Wilbur didn't have much to clean so he picked up a broom and helped Tommy afterwards.

Once they were done, the only evidence of the flour was themselves. Wilbur and Tommy rushed to the bathroom quickly in hopes of avoiding Niki.

They were in luck, then.

Niki still chewed them out later on when the morning rush was over about the missing flour and the lack of pastries made. Tommy had to hold his breath to avoid laughing out loud at the very scolded look Wilbur had and the nervous shifting Ranboo was doing.

—

Tommy was at the counter as Wilbur was in the kitchen helping Ranboo clean up. 

They were probably searching to see if there was any more flour left over. Tommy smirked. He couldn’t find himself regretting the huge mess they had made in the kitchen, even after Niki had chewed them out.

The smiles on everyone's faces made everything worth it.

The cafe was closed and Tommy was doing his usual routine in closing up. He wiped down the coffee machine. He wiped down the counters. He swept and mopped the floors, as well as having counted the money they collected today following up by closing the cash register. He stacked the chairs onto the tables. 

Tommy had even made himself a hot chocolate for the cold walk home that he was only slightly dreading.

Today had ended up pretty good despite the rough start. With a few messes sure but he hadn’t expected that he would still have a grin etched on his face. Nor the few times he had to cover his giggles at the crash he heard in the kitchen that was no doubt Ranboo slipping on some left over flour.

The feeling of suspense and dread hasn’t left Tommy despite all the joy that was filling holes in his heart. It felt like he was waiting for the shoe to drop.

Wasn’t he?

Tommy flipped the sign on the door to close. A cold chill slipped over him causing the hair on his arms to rise. It felt like someone was watching him.

“Got all of your stuff Tommy?”

Tommy startled looking over his shoulder to Ranboo holding his bag out to him. “Please don’t forget your bag again. I don’t need a four am phone call that I need to drive over and get your bag for you.”

He looked back to the door not quite wanting to let go of the sharp feeling of eyes. “Uhh, yeah. Thanks.” Tommy took the bag out of Ranboo's hands, slugging it over one shoulder.

Wilbur slipped out of the kitchen with all of his stuff. “Time to go already? It hardly feels like I worked at all.”

Ranboo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s because you didn’t Wilbur.”

Wilbur placed both hands over his heart. “Me? I am a very hard worker Ranboo and it’s frankly insulting that you would think I would slack on the job!”

Tommy huffed out a laugh as he opened the front door.

“Oh that’s cold,” Wilbur pulled his coat tighter to himself.

“No shit Sherlock,” Tommy smiled.

Ranboo brushed past Tommy with a muttered thanks. “Alright you two, I’m on my way now. Stay safe!” Ranboo called out as he walked further into the dark streets.

Wilbur looked at Tommy with a worried frown. “You good to make it home?”

“Yeah, I will be.”

Wilbur didn’t look convinced at all. Worry was evident on his face. “I know you’ve probably done this a thousand times before. But you look like you’ve just seen a ghost and I can't quite help but think that you don’t believe what you’re saying.”

Tommy let out a sigh watching a white puff of air fizzle out in front of him. He took a deep inhale and turned to Wilbur with as true of a smile as he could fake. It didn’t feel right with all the actual smiles and laughs that got pulled out of him today.

“Thank you for your worry,” Tommy began. “But I’m fine. You said it yourself, I’ve done this a thousand times before.” He stopped. He didn’t want just to shut Wilbur out and out of his life. Tommy kind of likes Wilbur and how easy it is to be around him.

A compromise then.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can avoid any unlit areas and not talk to anybody on my way home. I’ll even send you a text when I get there.” Tommy smiled gently hoping it conveyed things he couldn’t say aloud.

It wasn’t that he was lying to him, just omitting the truth a little. He didn’t want to tell Wilbur that his phone was dead. He also didn’t want to tell him that he passes by Pogtopia every day on his way home, the place notoriously being dark, dim, and dangerous.

Wilbur's shoulder slumped and a faint smile crossed his face. “Thanks.” He turned away and threw a wave behind him. “Stay safe out there, Tommy!” Then he pointed an accusing finger behind him. “I am expecting that text from you!”

Wilbur turned to his car and fiddled with his keys to his car.

Tommy sighed. All the good happy feelings rushed out with that deep breath leaving him almost more empty than he was before. 

He looked out to the streets just noticing that the feeling of being watched was gone.

Alright, another trek home in the pitch black darkness.

Yay…

Chapter Text

Dream knew that hero life was not all that glamorous as it was painted out to be.

He could remember being a young boy and watching fancy galas on the TV. These people had powers that came straight out of fairytales. They wore masks that kept identities secret that were just so shiny that it could have hurt his eyes if he saw it in real life. Several piece suits dressed the men up making them look spectacular in the lighting. And the gowns were just drop dead gorgeous.

Dream never questioned if a hero wasn't there or that the footage was just slightly edited to cover up a split lip or a limp while someone danced.

When his dad would sit beside him and put on the news channel Dream would boo. He didn't want to hear boring politicians and talk about all the different changes in weather that he was just too young to understand.

He wouldn't forget the first time he saw live on news a real fight between both a notorious group of villains and the famed number one hero.

He remembers the way the Ram was crushed into a building by a man with jet black wings. He was new, his pa had said so, but The Ram was not. Her sturdy horns and her sword barely phased the man that he now knew as Zephyrus. He was brutal in his takedown and ripped her to shreds with his talons.

His father covered his eyes and ushered him to bed but…

He knew that that man was the very reason that she was forced to retire and hasn't been seen since. How her smiles dimmed on TV and how she grew out her hair to cover… her singular horn and the jagged sides of the other. She very rarely attended charity events and after a while she just faded from view with only a brief goodbye as she was taken over by stronger and larger heroes.

He knew that the chances were high. He knew that he could suffer a fate like The Ram and be left hospitalized, forgotten. But he wanted something to do with his hands, something to do with the thrill chasing thrum in his heart.

When the organization of heroes approached him he was ecstatic. His family pushed him to become the greatest and it helped that his best friend was also training with him.

For years they trained and trained until they were finally allowed out and on the field. Despite these years, they weren’t prepared for monsters who cover the ground in fresh crimson and hang garlands of intestines along lamp poles. 

“FINE! Fine… I'll do it, just don’t hurt him anymore!” Dream bellowed out in fear. George’s whimpers from behind him filled his ears. He couldn't turn his head to see his friend. He could only rely on his hearing that tells him absolutely nothing.

A healer, fine. Fine! He just doesn't want his childhood best friend to suffer anymore. Not because of his hotheadedness. It’s the only reason they were both trapped there and being tortured. His ego wouldn't let him walk away from Protesilaus.

He eyed the villain after his surrender. Fear made his head pound and his eyes were filled with unshed tears. He just couldn't- He couldn't let George suffer anymore.

If that was a price of another soul then so be it.

Protesilaus hummed. His heart raced every time he made eye contact with the boar mask. The dark and lifeless eyes taunted him with cruelty and fire. The knife he held lightly but purposefully was stained in a dark crimson that slowly dribbled down the silver face.

That was George’s blood.

George sobbed from behind him.

“Good,” Protesilaus droned.

It struck him faster than a viper. A flash of silver then a splitting pain raked across his chest.

A scream tore from Dream's chest. He gasped for air that came short from the pain. With every breath he drew from his lungs his chest expanded and ripped into the jagged slash.

The pain was so great that he hardly noticed that the chains that binded him, trapped his powers within him, were unlocked and clattered to the ground by his feet. A rough hand wrapped around his bicep and hauled him from the chair he was chained to.

A brief moment of hesitation and confusion led to Protesilaus shoving him to an unmarked door.

He struggled.

Oh how Dream struggled to remain by his friend's side who he could hear sobbing and sobbing voicelessly. For a brief moment Dream looked over his shoulder, past Protesilaus, and locked eyes with George. 

He shouldn't have been able to do that.

The fresh horror left him feeling incredibly cold and violated.

George's brown eyes were wide and filled to the brim with tears about to be shed. His face was unmasked and left raw for the world to see. Open and defenseless and bleeding in front of their greatest enemies. A crime so great and so frowned upon committed so easily by these- by these-

Zephyrus’ dark wings rose and blocked George from his sight. 

A smile filled with razor sharp teeth creeped up on Zephyrus’ face. “The longer it takes for you to bring back a healer, the more fucked Obelisk will be. Might want to get a strong enough healer to heal those wounds.”

Shit- Shit- Holy fucking shit- What was he supposed to do? What could he do? He needed George! He needed his best friend!

Protesilaus’ hand roughly grabbed his face, squishing his cheeks together. The hand that  dug its fingers into his face was soaked in George’s blood, leaving its own marks besides scratches from both the fight previously and the fingernails drawing his own blood.

“If you tell anyone about this, we will cut off every limb Obelisk has and feed it to him.”

The eyes were dark but Dream was sure he saw true death in the pits of the abyss. 

“Run little hero.”

Protesilaus dropped him and with the support Dream was fully relying on he crashed to the ground. His knees protested but none of it compared to the screaming pain across his chest. Protesilaus opened the unremarkable door and there-! The outside.

His feet found purchase on the hardwood floor somehow. Somehow, Protesilaus allowed his to frantically run by him out the door that led to an alleyway. Somehow, he left that alleyway, left that building, in one piece.

But Dream couldn't get the burned image of his best friend out of his head.

The screams echoed as he limped out of Pogtopia and to the hero tower, wherever that was from here.

He could hear George's screams behind him.

He could see the raw image of his friend's face unmasked. His eyes were fearful as Zephyrus towered over him. And the blood… the blood stained everything.

Oh Prime, oh what has he done.

How could he have done that? He should have- He should have attacked as soon as those chains came off! He should have fought for George even if it meant death!

What are those maniacs going to do to him? Will there be anything of George left when he gets back?

Tears blurred his vision. The salty tracks froze over in moments and left his face stiff and raw. The building and streets he ran by was just darkness looming over his head as the sun had long since set and the moon wasn't visible from there. There were no streetlamps wherever he was going.

He’s going in the wrong direction?

Dreams' feet connected into the uneven stone path and with a cry he lost his balance and collided into the snow covered pathway.

His hands ached and burned from both the biting cold and the rough concrete. The wound across him screamed out in a plea for help.

His hand sneaked down to try and hold himself together. His blood was warm and tacky but most importantly warm .

He was pathetic. Why did he have to stand against the Syndicate? Not while George was there. George…

Placing his hands underneath him Dream tried to heave himself up. The slash across his stomach dripped onto the ground. The pain made his arms feel like jello and his stiff joints didn't want to move against the cold. 

How was he supposed to get to the hero tower? How was he supposed to save his best friend?

Looking up, Dream saw a smaller figure running from him. He couldn't make out much from him due to poor lighting but… 

“Help-!” Dream called out brokenly.

HE—lp… me,” Dream cried.

He collapsed to the floor again. Snowflakes fell all around him. They danced prettily and with innocence as they fell to the ground. The white snow slowly turned crimson with his blood. It was just so incredibly cold.

His eyes fell closed like how the snowflakes surrounded him.

—--

Wilbur watched as Tommy sprinted away from the cafe. 

His bright blue puffy jacket barely stood against the biting cold. His jeans were old and worn like his sneakers were. The teen looked freezing when they stepped out into the cold and despite Wilbur's offer of a warm car ride, Tommy had denied.

“Huh.”

Wilbur clutched his thin jacket to himself and rounded to the back of the store where he had parked his car. It was parked crookedly due to his rush to get to work on time. It was just barely in the lines and that was partially why he just left his stupid parking job.

Wilbur paused and his eyes widened at the sight before him. Someone sitting on the hood of his car.

His cold hand reached into his pocket and settled over his pocket knife. His fist clenched around it. He wasn't above stabbing someone if it meant he can get into his car and home safe and sound.

“Are you planning on sticking around?” The voice called out.

And yeah. Now he knows who that person is.

“Ranboo,” Wilbur growled.

“Oh come on. Seriously?”

Ranboo stood up from his car in all of his lanky glory. His mask and sunglasses were still planted firmly on his face but a two toned beanie smothered his hair and a plain jacket sat loosely on him. He seemed warm and not affected by the cold at all.

Wilbur was always cold. It was a side effect to his powers after all. His kin was pasty and see through while his tangency was determined by his mood or if he was startled. The devastating winter L’manburg was going through didn't change the temperature Wilbur feels.

“After all of that?” Ranboo threw his arms open

“What are you even trying to do here Wilbur?” Ranboo questioned. His arms came to wrap around him and settled into a crossed position.

Wilbur tried to catch the intent off of Ranboo. Earlier they had an argument that all but dissolved in the presence of Tommy. His goofiness and mischief distracted them both from their stare off. It seems that Ranboo wasn't convinced to let it go at all and Ranboo was one tough man to convince.

“Not this again,” Wilbur whined.

“Yes, we’re doing this again!” Ranboo stressed. “You just can’t walk into- into a job like this!”

“Why can’t I?” Wilbur gestured to Ranboo. “You certainly have. I have no idea how you convinced them to let you out of the house but let alone a job? A bakery job?”

Wilbur wheezed with laughter. “That’s one hell of a joke over there. As much as I don't like you I applaud whatever thing you had to give up to get this quaint job.”

It was pity, Wilbur realized. That was that horrible feeling in his chest that settled like rocks as he watched Ranboo laugh and play like he was a kid. It was a feeling of having something normal that he craved and a shitty job at a coffee job seemed to be as normal as it could get for having a midlife crisis in your twenties.

Ranboo was silent. Cloud of warm air leaked from his mask creating clouds that disappeared in the cold.

Wilbur’s shoulders slump. “Listen,” he starts.

“We don’t like each other, and we probably never will, but this-” Wilbur gestured to the brick building beside them.

This building used to be a clinic during the darker times in the past several years. Wilbur was glad that the old clinic was put to good use. It sat there for years vacant before they renovated. The location was great if you didn't consider what side of the city they were in but it was quaint and bright and still brought in a lot of business besides that. 

“This is something we both want to protect. I think we can come to a compromise on how to keep this peace,” Wilbur looked back to Ranboo.

Ranboo seemed to ponder. His head tilted to the side as he sat silently and thought to himself. 

“Let it be known that I don't like you,” Ranboo settled on. His hand sneaks out from his hoodie pocket and settles before him like an offering.

Wilbur threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah! I don't like you either.”

His hand snuck how toward Ranboo. Right as they were about to connect Ranboo quickly pulled his hand away. At an impasse, Wilbur silently raised an eyebrow.

Ranboo looked at him intently, his words like ice. “I can’t afford to lose this peace, Wilbur. Who knows how long I would have to search for it again. What I would have to give up to have this ease again.”

Wilbur nodded. “I won't endanger this now that I know what peace is.”

Their hands met and two people who have hated each other's guts for years were finally in agreement with each other. One ghastly pale hand and hand with fingerless gloves interlocked and lifted up once and fell back down, a motion that sealed their deal.

“Whatever threatens this, we’ll take care of it.”

“Yes. Yes we will.”

Wilbur stepped back shaking his head. “Now, would you get off my fucking car?”

Ranboo stepped away with his hand raised in a sign of surrender and made his own way to the street. Walking in this weather?

A stray thought was extended out to that barista, Tommy. How his jeans were so thin and his puffy jacket was incredibly worn. Strings frayed from the straps on his bookbag and his shift underneath was stained and stretched out.

—

Dream sat down gingerly in his office chair. His hands were being warmed by a fresh cup of coffee. 

He couldn't help but think of George.

What was happening to him at that very moment? Were his wounds treated in any sort of capacity as Dreams were?

The slash across his chest was healed in no time and the frostbit from being in the cold for so long was healed almost immediately due to its extremities and career stopping attributes. Hard to swing a sword without fingers and a chest already halfway opened.

George's screams were real. They were pained and terrified. The blood that stained that ground underneath his chair haunted Dream. Everywhere he looks he sees crimson droplets following him around.

Dream has been at the hero headquarters for eight hours. Eight hours he has left his best friend alone in the cruel hands of the syndicate. Eight hours of pure torture. He has time.

Despite having time Dream didn't want to leave George there any longer than he had to.

As he was being healed Dream eyed the man taking care of him. He was a sweet man. His powers felt like light and the pain felt like sticking your hand into cotton candy. He knew this healer had a family that he adored.

He couldn’t- How was he supposed to take someone away from their families? How was he supposed to swap someone for George?

Healers were not as rare as people might think. Some could go for a large portion of their lives not knowing they had the power to heal others. They could heal something as simple as small paper cuts and bruises. Nothing substantial like that injured Dream had or what injured George may have.

And drawbacks to powers could have awful side effects. There was this healer who could transfer pain from one person onto another. The original was healed, but now another was afflicted with the very same problem. They could take pain onto themselves but nothing was ever truly gone or healed.

The terms from the syndicate were vague. They didn't mention anything about the healer's skill level and their ability to heal massive or tiny wounds. There was also no mention of severe drawbacks one could have. The only true thing they had settled on was that they only needed one. Only one. Just a singular person who has healing capabilities that the hero organization would consider a healer.

So why is Dream so stumped?

They were people, that's why. Not just an object that he could pass over. They have feelings. And Dream knows that the hero organization doesn't treat them all that well. Would the syndicate be better? Obviously not! He's not sending an innocent person to their hell!

And what would George think? Would he even want this? Would he want someone to take his place? An innocent civilian taking the place of a fully trained hero? Maybe not.

These people don't even know what's happening. How close they are to being handed over to the syndicate. Some could be going to school right now. Some could be sitting on their couch with a bowl of popcorn watching a sitcom. A dad who could be rocking their son to sleep. A mother who could be cheering their children on from the sidelines. They could be anybody.

The mental image of George hanging from the hero tower rested heavily in his mind. 

All bloody and mangled just because he couldn't do one simple request. Life for a life, right? How could Dream just make that decision for someone? He's not God, who is he to judge whether someone lives or dies? He's not. So why was he given this choice?

George’s screams still echoed in his head. Every file he flips through reminds him of the glimpse he got of his face with tears flowing freely, and the pain that clouded over his eyes. Dreams' hands found their way to his stomach. He could feel the bandages underneath them. George probably isn't patched up. At least not professionally of course. That gives him even less time to find a healer.

Infections, disease, stress, blood loss. The longer he waits the more these possibilities creep in.

So here Dream is, going against his moral code to save his best friend. His office in the hero tower was messy. Dream's hero outfit was carelessly thrown to the ground. His iconic mask was being repaired so Dream was stuck wearing some random gas mask they had lying around.

Dreams desk is littered with papers. Each paper contained a healer, both young and old. All the way to minuscule to the most dangerous. He requested these papers as soon as he got to the tower. Dream wouldn't let them patch him up until they agreed. He made some stupid excuse about how they should hire more healers and position them all over the city instead of just the tower. The reasoning was half assed too, something about the easy access or whatever. The hero corporation actually seemed to believe his bullshit and gave him all the records they had.

So, he sat at his desk with untouched pancakes and a mug of coffee left half empty. As Dream flipped through the files the feeling of unease settled over him. He has to decide the fate of one of these people. For George… for George. 

The files have been narrowed down significantly since the beginning of Dream’s search. The syndicate didn't ask for any particular skills for the healer. Though Dream is almost positive that if he gave them a low skilled healer they might not let George go. 

They are villains after all. One of the most ruthless groups of villains too.

After the decision to get higher skilled healers outside of the hero organization almost stumped Dream. There were the retired and the ones with terrible drawbacks. Did the syndicate care about drawbacks? 

Dream thought back to information he read on Protesilaus. No, they didn't care about the drawbacks of powers.

Dream pushed the retired healers' files off into another stack. The stack consisted of healers he absolutely didn't want to give to the syndicate. The remaining files are ones with negative drawbacks, the ones that the hero corporation would never put on the field.

Dream flipped through multiple files. Some healers feel the pain of their patients and have terrible reactions and others get extremely sick. Their files are relatively larger than the ones in the ‘no go’ stack. Most likely documents on tests they had to run when they were younger. All except one at least.

Dream came across a file that was thicker than the others. The file was about an inch or two and absolutely filled with important documents. 

Who is this person?

He picked up the file and opened it. It was just another healer. Just another healer? Most Heroes have these big files. Mostly due to testing when they are younger. Even testing when one's power matures when they grow older. Each file is filled with recordings and estimations of the person's powers. Larger heroes like the Ram and Nihachu have files like that. So, who was this person?

The healer's power was nicknamed ‘Lifetime Chance’. 

Can heal anything from fatal diseases to tiny cuts. That's extremely powerful. Some papers he pulled out are of patients the healer has healed. Talking about the diseases and testing any leftover effects once they were healed. Drawbacks are… Oh. 

No wonder why this kid isn't working for the hero organization. The drawbacks are absolutely horrific. 

Reading through the tests and experiments the kid went through to fully learn the extent of his powers, Dream can safely say they are disgusting. It's truly terrifying and he is so glad they didn't say consequences be damned and trained this kid to work as a healer. And to Dreams surprise, these files are regularly updated. It tells him so much information about the healer.

He only has one parent, a mother, who is known to be an alcoholic. He was half a year away from graduating early and works halftime at his job. 

This is perfect! No one will really know if he goes missing. 

His job will most likely question things but for a while, they'll just forget him and think that he quit. Or he could pull his hero card. Force them into agreement for their own safety. His mother is too high off her ass to notice his disappearance. If she does? She wouldn't even contact the police, not without getting herself hurt in the process. The kid is known to be antisocial in school and often gets into fights. The school would most likely think he ran away. 

Now Dream just has to find him and think of an excuse to kidnap him. He pulled up more files of the kid on his computer. It took a while to load but eventually he was able to pull up his legal documents. Dream has full access to most peoples legal documents. He just can't alter them much.

Expired drivers license? Nah. Bills? Recently payed. Too many hours? He regulates himself. Can't arrest him for things his mom does. Not unless he does them too, but there is no evidence that he does.

Stumped, again. Dream flips through files and documents trying to find a flaw that he could exploit and not look suspicious. After an hour of research, he still couldn't find any.

Life for a life.

George’s screaming replayed in his mind. The begging and pleading that could barely be heard through the gag. He remembers the sound of the wind when the knife came down, stabbing his friend. Is this kid's life worth trading for George’s?

Dream sighed and laid his head down on his desk. His moral compass is screaming at him.

He's just a kid! But George- George is a hero he signed up for this! This kid doesn't deserve this! It's not like the kid doesn't already have blood on his hands. What's more? He’ll fit right in! It's not his fault! Would you rather give the syndicate what they want so both the kid and George can make it, or give them something shitty and risk those lives?

He can't think of anything to combat that. More people will die to the anger of the syndicate if he doesn't do this. The kid could potentially die as well. The syndicate has their own unique ways in letting out their anger. Dreams made up his mind.

Sorry kid.

Dream got up from his chair and looked down at his mug of coffee and had an idea.

Chapter Text

Tommy sighed.

His elbow dug into the counter. He rested his chin on his palm and leaned into the counter, leaving his face squished into his palm. His other hand was holding a company pen that had ‘Sourly Sweet’ on it with cute little pictures of pastries in vibrant colors. He was using that pen to doodle on a few napkins he had dug out from its containers.

It was getting harder and harder to stay awake this late at night. His eyes felt heavy yet they were glued wide open.

He was just so bored and with the combination of nightmares and his eyes refusing to shut, time moves so much slower than it had ever before.

Tommy glanced down at his doodles with a frown. He had no idea what he was drawing and had only ended up with scribbles than anything comprehensible. He hummed and started to draw a coffee cup. Two lines, a curve on the bottom and an oval on top. Soon there was a shitty coffee cup on the napkin that was half assed and looked more like a cup than anywhere near coffee.

The napkin was messy with ink and he kept smearing it with his palm, destroying the few drawings that weren’t scribbles.

The front door of the cafe let out a jingle when it was swung open.

“Welcome to Sourly Sweet, what can I get for you?” Tommy said as happy as he could despite how tired he was. It sounded more.. dead than anything else.

The customer was wearing a neon green hoodie that hurt Tommy’s tired eyes. With the combination of his black fingerless gloves made out right Tommy cringe at the fashion choices this man has made. His ashy blonde hair was a mess as if he had run his fingers through it and not a comb leaving strands poking out in every direction. His hazel eyes were lined with red and were puffy that made the customer look like he had been crying for hours.

“I uh-” The man begins before lifting his fist to his mouth and clearing his throat. He stared at the menu for a moment, eyes skipping over all the different coffees and pastries. “Just a black coffee please.”

“Coming right up!” Tommy tries to enthusiastically reply as he reaches over to the stack of cups and plucks one from the top of the stack. With the pen he had in hand he hovered over the cup about to write a name.

“Name for the order?” Tommy smiles

“Oh,” The man started, shocked, like all the other times.

“Just kidding!” Tommy smiles. “I remember you, Dream.”

“Haha,” Dream nervously laughed. “Didn’t realize I’ve been here enough for you to remember me.”

Tommy turned the pay screen around toward Dream. The man pulled out his wallet from his pocket and retrieved a debit card from its confines, with a tap, his black coffee was paid for.

Tommy moved to go through the motions of making Dream’s black coffee.

“I don't get many new faces this late at night. Just the usual coffee enthusiast or people doing last minute stuff and need the extra boost,” Tommy replied.

Tommy pointed at the hoodie he was wearing with his ink stained hand. “Hard to forget a hoodie like that though.”

“Yeah,” Dream murmured looking down at his hoodie.

The conversation dwindled as Tommy made his coffee. The cafe already smells like coffee but the strong smell of fresh beans livened the place up. The hot coffee filled up the pitcher and once the last drop fell in Tommy pulled the pitcher away from the machine. He carefully poured it into the cup trying to avoid any splashes of the molten liquid that was extremely hard to get out of clothing. Once he was done the pitcher was sat by the machine and Tommy placed the lid onto the cup.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.” Tommy held out the coffee toward Dream.

The man, however, took a moment to notice that his coffee was ready for him as he was staring intently at the TV screen in the corner. Tommy kept it off late at night mostly because the only thing that was on was the news and he hated how people got when the news was on.

“Sir?” Tommy tried again.

“Oh!” Dream exclaimed. “Sorry, thank you.” Dream seemed almost hesitant before reaching back and taking the coffee from his hands.

“Do you ever turn on the TV?” Dream asked.

“Oh? I can turn it on for you?” Tommy really really didn't want to turn on the TV for him.

“No- No I’m good. I was just- uh- wondering.”

“Okay?” Tommy replied, confused. “Enjoy your drink.”

Dream left to sit by the booth that was closest to the door. He sat in the seat in a way where Tommy could still see his face almost perfectly. The man pulled out a laptop from his bag and placed it beside his coffee. Soon the sound of a clicking keyboard joined the symphony of bad 2000’s hits.

Tommy frowned to himself. 

There was just something about Dream that set his hair on end. This wasn’t the first time that this man has showed up in the past week. He always orders the same coffee but he never seems to actually take a sip from it. He sits in the same seat every time and Tommy swears he can feel Dream's eyes all over him.

He’s worked night shifts for a long time now. He’s pretty used to how shadows can change the shape of something and make it feel more sinister. It’s like the dark changes things and without light it was hard to not be afraid of something you didn't know.

Tommy wasn’t afraid of the night. He loved the darkness and how easy it was to hide in the shadows it casts.

It’s why he usually works as a barista. It can be eerie to sit in a quiet room for hours with only bad music and the sound of coffee machines to keep you company. He didn’t mind it. The quiet was something that made him feel content. He could hear things better and was much harder for things to hide in than the dark.

Tommy had no idea why Dream made all the alarm bells in his head ring. There was just something about his shifty nature. It made him uncomfortable to have him even in the same space as him.

He couldn’t just leave. He had to stay here despite being extremely uncomfortable.

The clock slowly ticked as the last two hours of his shift crawled to a close. More napkins with doodles on them littered the counter. The pitcher of coffee that was full earlier was dwindled by the efforts of one Tommy Innit and a few more rushed customers coming by.

Once the clock hit ten, Tommy smiled.

He looked over the cafe and found that Dream was still there. His coffee was untouched and the bags around his eyes had only seemed to grow in the past few hours.

“Sir?” Tommy called out.

Dream looked up from his laptop, spooked. “Y-yes?”

“We’re closing.”

“Oh.”

Dream collected his things together. Tommy watched as Dream grabbed a notepad and carelessly shoved it into his bag along with his laptop and wireless mouse. He stood up from the bench and slung the backpack over one shoulder. Dream grabbed his coffee and quickly left the cafe, the jingle followed him as the door shut.

Tommy fished the keys from his pants pocket and approached the front door from behind the counter. He quickly locked the door and tested it before letting out a sigh of relief.

The closing duties were just about the same as always. He swept the floor finding small straw wrappers and mopped the floor after that. He cleaned off all the tables and made sure the napkins on each were just as restocked as the containers holding sugar and cream packets.

He took up closing the cash register. He made sure to count all the money they had made that day and put it in the safe where it belonged.

Tommy deep cleaned each and every machine and once he was done with that, he restocked the cups, lids, and straws. The counter was wiped off and any sticky spot was scrubbed with water and soap. The place was spotless and his closing checklist was done.

Tommy approached the employees only door that led into the kitchen. The doors swung as he walked through and took a few moments to settle behind him. The kitchen was overbearing in heat and Tommy could already feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“Sup’ Baldie times two!” Tommy called out as he walked from the doorway and further into the kitchen. He rested his hip against the island counter and leaned over it, ignoring the blatant mess he was getting all over his apron.

“I’m not bald?” Wilbur said bewildered. He turned from the oven and both him and Jack were watching intently.

“Maybe not yet,” Tommy quipped back.

“Ignore the shorty,” Jack told Wilbur.

“What!” Tommy gasped. “How could you? I am the tallest and the most manliest man to have and will ever live!”

“Sure, Toms, I have never seen a taller or a more manly person than you” Jack smiled cheekily.

“Hmmm,” Tommy’s eyes narrowed at Jack. “I feel like that was not a compliment. But I will ignore because I am the truth.”

Tommy zeroed in on the oven still being turned on. It was a little past closing so all the baking was supposed to have been done awhile ago. While Wilbur was supposed to shadow Jack, Tommy had no idea that they were way past being efficient and were probably just joking around back here.

“Why are you guys still cooking?” Tommy questioned. The kitchen was hardly cleaned. He swiped his finger across the counter top and left a line through the white flour. He dusted his hand off on his stained apron.

“It’s baking, Tommy.” Wilbur corrected with a stupid smug smile on his face.

“Oh fuck you and your big fucking words!” Tommy flipped Wilbur his middle finger, faking being upset.

Jack rolled his eyes and glanced back at the timer above the oven. Tommy watched Jack pull on an oven mit then opened the door to the stove. He pulled out a tray with four blueberry muffins.

“This is Wilbur’s first patch. Took a little longer to bake than it should have.” Jack set the tray of muffin on the countertop.

“What next?” Jack asked.

Tommy watched as Wilbur added a pinch of sugar on top of each muffin. The sugar melted into the hot muffins not leaving a single grain of crystal. The muffins were pulled from the tray and Tommy watched as Wilbur picked one up from the tray. He hissed at the heat but blew air onto it to cool it down.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at them. “Do you guys want to try? I don’t think they’re bakery worthy but they’re still good enough to eat.”

They all took a muffin. Jack immediately took a bite out of it and by the face he made it was still hot for having just come out of the oven. Their giggles were delirious as they was all so fucking beat from the long work day.

As both Wilbur and Jack began to scarf down their muffins Tommy couldn’t really find the appetite. It smelled absolutely heavenly and his mouth salivated but his stomach cramped at the thought of eating the muffin.

“You good man?” Jack questioned. “You haven't even taken a bite.”

“Do you not like blueberry muffins?” Wilbur asked.

“Oh, don't let him trick you. This man can eat just about anything. I have the mental scars to prove it.” Jack shuddered at the imagery.

“Sorry.” Tommy placed down his muffin and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m not that hungry. I might just take it home.”

Wilbur took the muffin and with Jack’s instruction was able to wrap it in pretty togo packaging. The pretty pink pastel paper bag landed beside Tommy when they were done.

“Well,” Jack began. “We need to clean up a bit so don’t wait up on us.”

Tommy pulled out his phone to check the time. It wasn’t too late.

“I can talk a bit, it’s not too late.”

Jack slid the muffin tin into the sink. “Alright, this is where all the cleaning supplies are. It’s sorted so it's pretty easy to find everything you need.”

Tommy watched Jack show Wilbur the ropes about the closing shift. He instructed Wilbur on what cleaners to clean the dishes with and where they are stored when they’re cleaned. The counters were wiped down and all the baking supplies were being slowly put up.

“There’s this regular that’s been giving me the creeps,” Tommy remarks.

“What? Has this guy been doing anything?” Wilbur paused while he was putting the sugar up in the cabinet above his head. He turned to look at Tommy with open concern.

“No, but-” Tommy begins before shaking his head. “I swear he just keeps staring at me. He’s been here for the last like- five days and he always sits at the booth by the window. You know the one- and I swear I’ve made eye contact with him and everything. And! He orders black coffee-”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Not everyone who orders black coffee is a monster.” 

“Yes, they are.” Tommy points out.

“But! That's not the point. He orders the drink but he never even drinks it!” Tommy threw his arms up.

“If you didn't like the drink then why do you keep drinking it? It's just so weird. He’ll be there for hours, all the way to closing. I actually had to kick him out today but- he never actually drinks his coffee.”

Tommy sighs. “It’s just weird.”

Wilbur looks at him with concern.

Jack shakes his head and puts up the last ingredient, closing the cabinets.

“There’s nothing we can do about that. If he hasn't done anything to you, verbally or physically, then that's pretty much it. He pays for his coffee and leaves without a fuss whenever we close. He’s free to use the wifi we have here and to stay as long as he wants. I’m sorry he’s creeping you out.”

“I’ts-”

“That’s bullshit!” Wilbur exclaimed angrily.

“Tommy should be able to do something about this guy giving him the creeps. Is he supposed to just sit out there and allow himself to be stared at every night of the week?”

Jack shrugged as he pulled off the apron he was wearing and started to fold it up.

“He can send Niki a text and let her know about it but she'll probably say the same thing. Maybe she’ll switch his shift around with someone else or she’ll let him in the back instead of the front. She can’t really turn away a returning customer because he may or may not be staring at Tommy.”

Wilbur shook his head angrily. “Niki can do a lot more than you think,” He said cryptically.

Tommy smiled reassuringly when Wilbur looked back at him. “I wasn’t really looking for a solution, Wilbur. I kind of just wanted to complain about him. Niki doesn't need to swap me around or anything, I’m perfectly fine where I’m at.”

“And if he does anything?”

“Then I’ll deal with it I guess.” Tommy shrugs.

They’re silent for a few moments. Each one of them didn’t really know where to pick up the conversation so they let it hang heavy in the air. They all took off their aprons and made sure everything was squeaky clean before they headed to the backroom to grab their belongings.

Tommy opened his bookbag and shoved his apron and his goodie bag inside, zipping it up slowly to try and avoid catching any of the fraying seams. He grabbed his old blue puffy jack and slid it on. It was hardly buffing out the cold anymore but something was better than nothing. He then swung the backpack over his shoulder, sliding one arm through one strap and then the other.

He looked over and found the other two were wearing more appropriate winter gear than he was. Wilbur had a maroon beanie pulled over his head with a thicker brown jacket that had so many pins clipped to it. Jack manifold was wearing a band hoodie and was also wearing a beanie. Tommy watched as he pulled on gloves.

Wilbur looked over at Tommy as he picked up his messenger bag. “You ready?”

“Yep,” Tommy popped the letter ‘p’ in his mouth.

Jack opened the door and as soon as the cold winter air hit him he shivered. They slowly filed out of the cafe and the break room light was turned off and the door locked behind it.

“Well, I’m going to sleep for twelve hours. See ya.” Jack approached his car and opened the driver's door. He slid into it and Tommy was blinded by the bright headlights as the car was turned on and barreled out of the parking lot.

The cold was biting and Tommy dreaded the walk to his house. He didn't want to pass through Pogtopia but he didn't want to be out in the cold any longer than he had to be.

“Here.”

Tommy looked over to see Wilbur offering his beanie to him.

“What?” Why would he just give him a beanie? It looked really nice too. Wouldn’t he need it?

“Take it. It hurts to look at you shivering like that.” Wilbur turned his head away like it actually physically pained him to see a coworker shivering in his boots.

“Won’t you get cold?” He hesitantly asked.

“I have a car with a working heater. You need it more than I do.”

Tommy slowly takes the beanie from Wilbur’s hand and ran his fingers over it.

“When will I give it back to you?”

“Whenever you feel like it. Or don’t, I don't need that hat back.”

“I’ll give it back to you tomorrow, then.”

“Sure, weirdo. See you tomorrow.” Wilbur said with such finalty.

Tommy held Wilbur’s soft beanie in his hands as the man approached his car.

“Still don’t want a ride?” Wilbur called out, already knowing the answer.

“I’m a big man, remember? I don't need a dumb car to get me home.”

“Sure,” Wilbur shrugged and slid into his car.

Tommy watched as his car also pulled out of the employees only parking lot. He looked down at the beanie in his hands. He used his thumbs to feel along the crochet-esque pattern. The cotton it was made of was soft and blocked out the wind from his hands. He smiled and pulled it over his head, flattening his unruly curls and trapping them.

He shoved his hands into his pockets to try and preserve some resemblance of warmth and started the long walk home.

He wished he had the money saved up to buy his own car. Tommy didn't want to deal with his mother and all the fights they got in over that poor red car that was always breaking down and the heater didn't even work! She hardly ever left the house for reasons that weren't going to a bar or staying over at a boyfriend's place. It was the money from his dads life insurance and his feagle paychecks that even kept the lights on anymore.

If he could just pile up enough money for even the cheapest car out there he wouldn't have to walk through Pogtopia ever again.

Sleep has been hard to come by since he ran into that man in need of help out in Pogtopia. 

His skin was always itching. It was like the terrible gaping wound in that chest called out to him for help and his body longed to answer.

The comfort of the shadows felt like a lie. Minding his own business was serving him well but ever since that night he has felt like someone has been watching him. It was like they followed him from the cafe all the way to his house/

He’s all but abandoned his normal route and instead took back alleyways and odd loops to try and deter whoever was watching him.

Run little hero

Tommy has never stopped running. He was always looking over his shoulder at the shadows he used to take comfort in, wondering.

He saw something, something he shouldn't have.

His hand was wrapped around his phone, Tubbo’s number already dialed. If anything were to happen he would call the closest person to him.

Tommy cut through an alleyway and went around. He stepped quietly even if that made him slow, not wanting anyone to know exactly where he was at. He eventually made his way through Pogtopia and let out a sigh of relief when he had done so.

It was good to finally have the feeling of eyes watching him, gone.

Chapter Text

A loud alarm fills his ears.

Tommy groans and reaches over to slap his alarm clock a few times in hopes to either shut it up or press snooze, whichever happens first.

A lucky whap finally shut the alarm clock off.

Tommy rolls over onto his back and stares at the glow in the dark stars that littered his ceiling. They had lost their glow years ago but he could never figure out how to get them off the ceiling. The glue that held them up there for so long will continue to hold them up there for much longer.

Tommy sighed and threw off the multiple blankets he was sleeping under. He swung his socketed feet onto the ground and sat for a moment trying to wake up further. He reached his arms all the way up to the ceiling, clasped his fingers together, and stretched as big as he could. He let out a yawn and hopped off of his sagging mattress.

His phone screen lit up and his finger tapped it. Tommy took note of what time and day it was. He opened up the lock screen and scrolled to his work schedule.

“A double,” Tommy murmured.

It was Saturday and he had taken a shift from his coworker earlier that week. Instead of the evening shift that he usually worked, he’s also working the morning shift on top of that.

Tommy pocketed his phone and made his way to his closet. He opened the sliding door and looked for any extra work clothes he might have laying around. Besides a few pairs of khaki pants that work with the dress code he couldn’t find his extra apron or a few of his branded shirts.

The closet door squeaked when Tommy closed it behind him. 

Tommy closed his bedroom door and walked all the way down the hallway. He came across his laundry room and peaked into the clothes basket beside it to see if any of his shirts were in there. Frowning, Tommy then checked the dryer.

“Would you look at that. I actually did laundry last night.” Tommy held his shirt up in all of its glory before folding it and shoving it under his arm along with his pants.

Around the corner was the kitchen. He left his pile of clothes on the small island counter and rummaged through one of the cabinets. He stashed away the muffin in a place where hopefully his mother couldn’t find it while she was on a binge.

“There you are,” Tommy smiled.

He grabbed the muffin from behind a few bottles that have long since expired. The cute packaging it was in was a little dusty but he made sure it was sealed tight before hiding it away up there.

The packaging was eagerly torn open and out came the muffin that Wilbur had made.

Tommy ate the muffin for breakfast, despite it being cold and several hours old. It was still good for a first try and not a half bad breakfast that he didn't have to pay for. He was biased though, any breakfast he doesn’t have to pay for is a good one.

Tommy scooped his clothing from the kitchen island, passed the laundry room, and went to the bathroom right across from his bedroom.

He set his clothes on the edge of the sink and leaned over the sink and took a good look at himself in the mirror.

“Oh, ew.”

Tommys fingers pulled at the eyebags underneath his eyes. He looked about as dead as Wilbur did. It’s been awhile since he’s been able to sleep through the night. Nightmares would wake him up and he would just end back up in his closet again. The floor of his closet wasn’t one he could sleep in and so his nights often ended with him restless but tired.

He changed into his uniform that was thoroughly cleaned for one. The shirt was tucked in into his pants and he used a belt to tie in the look. At least he didn’t have to wear a tie.

He took a step back from the mirror and smiled.

With his hair being brushed as well as he could he didn’t look half bad that day.

“Ready for another pogchamp day?” He pointed finger guns at the mirror, the reflection doing the same.

His smile dropped and so did his hands.

“Good, you don’t have a choice.”

The next few minutes were spent with him looking for the car keys.

“What the fuck, mom? Where did you put the fucking keys?” He looked high and low and even searched through her room. He figured that she took those keys with her. Intentionally or not, Tommy wasn't able to drive to work another day.

He grabbed his blue coat and pulled it over his shoulders. He zipped it all the way the stupid broken zipper would go. He picked up his book bag from the arm of the coach where he threw it last night. Tommy spotted the maroon beanie, Wilbur’s beanie, by the door. He picked it up and smiled.

Tommy slid the beanie over his head and went to work.

—--

“Hey Tommy, you excited for today?” Jack called out from the kitchen.

Tommy sat his backpack down and pulled off his coat. He hung his coat on its hanger along with Wilbur’s beanie.

The warmth of the cafe felt heavenly compared to the hellscape from outside.

His coat was getting thinner by the day and could barely block out the harsh winter wind during his walk to work. His hands rubbed together in hopes to get the blood flowing to his fingertips. He really only felt pins and needles and would like to get them moving again.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Because you’re the last one coming in.”

“ Oh shit , I didn't think I was that late.” Tommy pulled his apron from his bag a lot more hurried than before. He pulled it over his head then tied it behind his waist.

“Oh, you’re not. Me and Niki just got here early.”

“Niki’s here?” Tommy wondered. He walked through the breakroom into the kitchen and found Jack baking up a storm for opening.

“Yeah she’s just in her office. She’s covering for that one guy. Apparently he has the flu or something.” Jack pointed over to her door.

“Do you mind if I take a minute to talk with her?”

“No, I don’t give a shit man. You should definitely talk to her about last night.”

Tommy gave him a thumbs up and then knocked on Niki’s door.

A soft and muffled voice sounded from behind the door calling Tommy into the office. He opened the door slowly and was careful in shutting it behind him as quietly and polite as he could. While sometimes he feels like Niki is his friend, she’s his boss first and he would really like to keep his job for as long as he can.

“Hey Niki, how’s it going?” Tommy moves over to take a seat in one of the horrible chairs Niki keeps in here for some reason instead of throwing them out.

“It’s going pretty well. How are you doing?” Niki smiles at him.

His boss looked more disheveled than usual. She had dark rings around her eyes that were barely concealed with her makeup. The big bold makeup she put on on the daily was lacking with the sharp black lines and was more toned down with just a bit of black eyeshadow. Her hair dye, a bright pink, was extremely washed out with her roots showing.

Saying she looked tired was an understatement.

Tommy couldn’t say anything, however. He probably looked way more tired than she did.

“You know… the usual. But I have been told that I should probably tell you about this weird customer that keeps showing up.”

“It’s unlike you to complain about those guys. What happened?” She genuinely looked worried, too.

“Nothing, y’know, physically happened. Or verbal, I guess? I just know that this guy has been freaking me the fuck out out for days now. I swear he just stares at me instead of actually drinking his coffee and-”

“Hold on Tommy.” She raised her hand trying to slow down his rant. “This guy has been staring at you?”

Oh, now he feels bad. He feels really bad for bringing this up to her. Jack was right about this, like always.

She just looked so tired, so overwhelmed. Niki could barely keep her eyes open as she was talking to him and- He was just bothering her with his stupid worries again.

“It’s- It’s nothing, Niki,” Tommy managed to settle on.

“No. It's not nothing, if a customer has made you feel uncomfortable-” Niki began.

“It’s usually late when he shows up. I-I don’t know. I’m probably just seeing things. He hasn’t done anything or has said anything that gives me creep vibes. I just- Don’t really like being alone in the front of the cafe with one person.”

Niki smiles sympathetically. “I can agree with you on that. It does get a little eerie late at night.”

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs nervously.

“Are you.. Sure that you’re okay. I can push back Wilbur’s pastry training and he can take over tonight for you.”

“No, no there’s no need. Wilbur needs to learn.”

Shit. He’s really messing stuff up here.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind at all, Tommy.” She worries her lip between her teeth. “If you’re sure that you’re alright and that you can work at the counter today…?”

“Yes!” Tommy’s head shot up. “I am perfectly good at working at the counter. I don’t even know why I mentioned it at all. Nothing bad happened and that man wasn’t doing anything. So, uh, am I good to go now?”

“Yes,” She smiled. “You should probably open the cash register before we open.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted.

Rising from the chair Tommy could only think about how he dodged a bullet there.

Niki was tired and looked wrung out. She didn’t need his issues weighing on him and she certainly didn’t need to mess up everybody’s schedule just so he could get his shit together. Tommy could handle a creepy man just fine on his own. He doesn’t know why he let Wilbur’s worry get to him or why he took Jack’s advice.

“Oh, and Tommy, one last thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Let me know if this customer shows back up again today. I’ll be here all day and I really don’t mind having a chat with him about etiquette and staring at strangers, alright?”

No way.

“Sure Niki, I’ll let you know.”

—

Tommy watched the clock anxiously.

There was just something about this day that set Tommy’s teeth on edge and not having enough sleep is making things so much worse.

He felt his eyes move from window to the door back to the window then back to the door. He felt paranoia sink into his bones with such an intensity. There was just so much anxious energy that even though he’s on the second half of his double shift he couldn’t stop his feet tapping or his fingers making a rhythm on the table.

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that second coffee?

Tommy’s nerves were just all over the place.

The TV in the background was blaring some soap opera that was not particularly interesting. The music in the shop was a little bit better that day, more so than usual. Not that Tommy was paying attention.

Tommy’s eyes darted to the door when he heard the slight jingle above the TV.

Tommy didn’t know the woman that walked in and he could feel the relief wipe away some of his anxiousness.

“Hello ma’am, Welcome to Sourly Sweet, what can I get for you today?” Tommy tugged the corners of his lips up to resemble a fake customer service smile. His voice was an octave higher than usual to try to seem friendly and happy despite how tired he was.

“Just a caramel frappe. And could I get two shots of espresso with that? Wait, I would also like a blueberry muffin or is it too late to order that?”

“Not at all ma’am, is that everything?”

“Uh, yeah it is.” She reached over to her purse and started rummaging through it.

He typed her order on the screen in front of him, made a little note to the side about the extra shots, and placed the order. The pay screen popped up on the tiny monitor beside him and he turned it around for the customer.

“You can pay here,” Tommy pointed to the keypad.

Tommy grabbed a coffee cup specifically for frappes and asked for the customer's name. She replied and her name was easy enough to spell and write on the cup.

The woman paid for her drink and muffin and made her way to stand a little bit away from the cash register to wait for her order.

Tommy placed a ticket in the window and rang the bell beside it before he started to make the coffee. Ice was blended, an ungodly amount of milk was poured into a cup, caramel drizzle was all over the place, and right on the top was a nice dollop of whipped cream. The caramel frappe was done and soon the warm muffin joined its companion in a bag.

Tommy called for the customer to get her order. She thanked him as she grabbed her food and drink and Tommy pretended not to be as happy as he was to see her walking in the direction of the door.

Tommy watched a flash of neon green pass the door and he sharply inhaled.

No. Not tonight.

The door swung open and almost hit the woman on the way out.

“Woah!” The woman cried out as she took a few steps to avoid the swinging door.

“Sorry,” Dream mumbled.

The woman scoffed, mumbling something too low for him to hear, and moved around him to leave the cafe. Leaving Tommy with Dream. By himself.

The man was more disheveled than usual. His hair was slicked back roughly and barely managed. His outfit was dirty like he spilt something on it and hadn't washed it. His eyes were wide open with dark bags sagging underneath him. He was pale and shaking and oh prime why the hell is this man here?

Tommy stood frozen as he watched Dream approach the counter.

There was just something in him telling him to run away from the man.

“Hello?” Dream called out.

“Your... usual?” Tommy gritted out.

Tommy was trying to convince himself to calm down. Dream hasn’t done anything to him. He hasn’t done anything. He hasn't done anything but stare. He hasn't done anything to him at all.

“Yeah.” Dream stared at him openly this time.

As Tommy was making the coffee he could feel Dream’s eyes burn holes into his back.

“Hey Tommy.”

Tommy felt a chill run down his spine. He stood ramrod straight and stared at the coffee machine in front of him. Goosebumps ran along his arms and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

He hasn’t felt such a terror like this one since the night he found that hero bleeding out in that alleyway. The dark voice that reverbated off the brick walls sent a terror so fine that Tommy did not stop running for a very long time.

Tommy doesn’t give out his name like that to customers.

He is forced to wear a nametag though.

His nametag got destroyed weeks ago and he hasn’t gotten around to getting a new one just yet. Not like customers really needed his name for anything more than customer satisfaction, he supposes.

“Yeah,” He whispered.

“Why does this cafe stay open so late? Not like I’m complaining but isn't it a little dangerous to be so open this late at night in a more shady part of town? Someone could get hurt. Or do you have measures to keep this place protected? You must have since I haven’t heard anything bad happening here since it was an old clinic.”

Tommy grabbed the pot and rushed to pour the black coffee into the cup.

“Is that a camera over there? What kind is it? Sorry, you probably don’t know that. Does it record all of the time? I’m sure it does but I don't think I see a blinking red light on it-”

With the hot coffee in hand Tommy pushed the cup toward Dream, almost spilling its contents onto him.

“Woah! Was it something I said?”

And with a tightlipped smile Tommy said, “Enjoy your day.”

“Okay,” he replied and took the coffee from his hands.

“Could you answer my question, though? I- I wouldn't feel very safe here if I didn’t know how you guys keep thugs out of your shop.”

Why? Why does he keep asking questions about that? Why does he want to know their security measures? What the fuck is this man trying to do to the cafe? Rob it? Rob him?

“If you have any questions feel free to talk to my manager. She is unfortunately out today so you could either come back tomorrow in her office hours or send an email. You can find the email online, sir.”

“Sure, I guess you wouldn’t know stuff like that. I didn’t mean to sound creepy or anything so I guess I’ll just go-”

For the first time in the last few days Dream didn’t head for the booth like he usually did. He walked out of the front door and presumably left with no intent on coming back that night. 

Tommy let out a deep sigh and leaned onto the counter.

What the hell was that?

How did Dream know his name? Why was Dream asking about their security measures? Why was he so insistent on that? And he broke routine? He actually left before closing! What’s been happening?

Tommy didn't want to work counter if Dream was going to keep showing up.

He should have called Niki when Dream showed up instead of nursing his pride. He needs to talk with Niki, like right now.

Tommy closed up shop as quickly as he could. Cup stains were still all over the place with a few spills of coffee and milk on the counter. Napkins holders weren’t refilled and the floor wasn’t mopped. The trash was mostly picked up and the place was as swept as a rushed Tommy could be.

Tommy entered the back a lot calmer than he was ten minutes prior with that altercation between Dream.

Tommy approached Niki’s door and knocked on it. When Tommy didn’t get a response he figured that she didn't hear him and knocked a little louder.

“Hey Tommy, Niki’s not here. She left about an hour ago,” Ranboo called from the kitchen.

“Oh,” Tommy frowned at the door. He could send a text to her later, when he charged his phone. Or, he could just talk to her next time that he worked.

Wilbur waved with his gloved hand as he sprayed cleaner on the counter and scrubbed it in circle motions.

Tommy waved back hesitantly, not as enthused as he should have been.

He liked Wilbur. Hee was a great coworker and a really funny guy. 

“Wilbur, have you finished cleaning?” Ranboo threw his rag down into the bucket and took off his latex gloves, dropping them in the trash can beside them.

“Finally,” he said with a groan. The gloves were ripped off of his hands and he smacked them a few times out of relief.

“Wow, did you guys do a deep clean?” Tommy wondered. The place was a lot shinier than normal. The last bits of evidence from their flour fight from days ago was finally scrubbed away making the place look so clean that you could eat food off of it. Actually, scratch that. He would not eat food off of those floors. There is some grime there that not even fire would be able to burn off.

“Niki made us,” Wilbur complained. He wiped his sweaty palms off on his pants.

“Niki,” Ranboo corrected. “Wanted me to teach him how a deep clean goes so that he can do it himself.”

“Oh, ew,” Tommy scrunched up his nose. He hated deep cleans with a passion. His back always hurts afterwards.

Ranboo tore off his apron. “Are you guys good to go? I don’t know about you but I am tired and I still have a full night of plans.”

“Yep!”

All three of them made their ways to the break rooms. They tore off a lot of their working uniform and replaced it with winter gear. When they were all ready to leave, Tommy followed Wilbur out and Ranboo shut off the lights and locked the door behind them.

Tommy looked at the road he usually travels to home and could already feel the eyes burning into his back. What was he going to do? He couldn’t walk home! He’s pretty sure that he was being stalked yesterday and he doesn’t want to know why he was, tonight.

Tommy looked over to Ranboo.

He’s known the guy for about a year now. Ranboo has walked with him a few times and Tommy has even driven him home when he had his car. Maybe… Ranboo would walk with him again tonight? Maybe he wouldn’t have to walk home tonight all by himself again.

“H-hey, Ranboo?” Tommy’s teeth chattered.

“Yeah?”

“Can we walk together? I know we live in the same neighborhood.” Tommy rubbed his hands together trying to rub warmth back into them.

“Actually, I’m not going to that side of town tonight. I’m waiting for a friend to pick me up so I can stay at his place tonight. That’s on the whole other side of town,” Ranboo said easily.

“Sorry man.”

“No, it's cool,” Tommy brushed him off.

Tommy looked around. He could always ask Wilbur. He offers him a ride home every night that they work together. Maybe he’ll take him home tonight? Tommy doesn’t know him that well but a ride with a coworker is better than walking those streets alone this late at night.

Wilbur had already approached his car and was struggling to unlock it with his key. Tommy approached him with a hopeful expression on his face.

“Is there any way you could give me a ride home tonight?”

Wilbur opened his car door and looked up at Tommy. There was an expression on Wilbur’s face that Tommy just couldn’t read. Then there came the familiar face of regret. Wilburs eyebrows drew together and he seemed to bite his cheek.

“Sorry…” he began.

“I don't have the time to drive to that side of town tonight. maybe if you had let me know yesterday i could have managed it but…”

“No Wilbur, don’t bother.”

“Tommy-” Wilbur began.

‘Thanks, though.”

“I have to go. Call me if anything happens okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thank you.”

Tommy tried not to sound too dejected. Wilbur doesn’t have to give him rides and with Tommy shooting him down all the time it's no wonder why he actually thought that he would drive him home tonight.

Tommy took a step back from Wilbur’s car and watched with dread as he drove out of the parking lot. He stood frozen as he listened to the squeal of Wilbur’s break and the roar of the engine as the man left.

Tommy was almost out of options.

He glanced down and pulled out his phone. He had very little phone battery left and was hesitant to use it. 

Tommy thumbed through his contacts and settled on a familiar name, Tubbo.

All through this week Tubbo has barely picked up any of his calls or responded to any of his text messages. It was like he went ghost about a week ago. It was a harsh difference between how he was a few weeks ago where Tommy had to put his phone on ‘do not disturb’ due to Tubbo spamming his text messages.

Tommy clicked the call button.

Just like all the days before it rang until it went straight to voicemail.

“Okay…” Tommy whispered.

There was only one more number he could call. Maybe she’ll be sober enough to answer the phone and actually drive to pick him up. A heated car would feel so awesome…

Tommy waited through the three rings and his screen went black.

His eyebrows furrowed in pain as he tapped on the screen and held down the power button to no avail. His phone was dead and he still had no ride how or someone to walk with.

Tommy looked around the empty parking lot. The streetlamps are regularly replaced here. The light was enough for Tommy to see all around him without much worry. The roads were dead this time of night because not many risk being out this late in this side of the city.

He sighed. “It’s only going to get later.”

He shivered. “And colder.”

—

The tall walls of Pogtopia loomed over him. It blocked the little light that the moon and stars provided and created its own eerie darkness. Shadows bloomed across the snow covered streets. There were no footprints in the snow but the ones he was creating himself.

His dead phone laid heavy in his pocket like a silent omen.

The feeling of dread entered every pore and crevice in Tommy’s body.

He relied only on the light from the sky with his phone being dead.

Eyes. All Tommy could feel were the eyes digging into his back. He felt them as soon as he stepped away from the safety of the main city and into Pogtopia.

Tommy strained his ears to listen for any sound of movement around him that wasn’t his. The icy wind was cutting straight through his jacket leaving him to wrap his arms around himself to try and keep warm. The sound of the wind made this part of the city feel a lot more desolate.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Tommy shivered.

He just had to make it through this and get home then he has a few days where he doesn’t work. He’ll go back to school and do normal schoolwork and he doesn’t have to worry about creepy fucking customers who stare and ask weird questions.

When his phone charges he’ll send Niki a text about what happened. There is no way he’s going back to working that shift with Dream there. No. Fucking. Way.

He absolutely hates baking.

There were just so many ingredients and so many recipes with so many timers all around the kitchen that he just gets completely overstimulated. Tommy has no clue how Ranboo can handle all of that because the poor teen could hardly handle all of the coffee recipes.

They compromised that with Tommy being the charmer that he was, he was more than content to take that barista role so that Ranboo doesn’t have to talk to people.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Tommy brought his hands up to his mouth and tried to warm them up with his breath. The pins and needles he felt in his his lessened for a moment then came back in full force. He shoved them back into his coat with a sigh.

Maybe after school tomorrow he could go to a thrift shop and get some winter gear? There’s got to be a place nearby that sells that stuff for cheap. Without his car and with the winter only getting colder he’s going to have to invest into some actual warm clothes.

Something hit his nose and Tommy blinked.

Is that… Is it snowing right now?

No wonder why it was so cold.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Tommy rounded a corner. As he pivoted on his heel to make the turn, his foot slipped on a sheet of ice and he swore.

Falling into the snow and getting wet on top of how cold it was right now was a great way to get hypothermia, if he didnt have it already that is.

Crunch.

Tommy startled and looked over his shoulder.

He looked all around him, in every shadow as he strained to see past the flurries sticking to his eyelashes and through the dark.

There wasn’t really anywhere to hide where Tommy was. A lot of buildings around him were missing chunks out of its walls and have been slowly crumbling down for years. 

Piles of rubble were everywhere. It made the streets completely undrivable and the side walks often had to be abandoned to avoid large cracks and suspicious body shaped holes.

There was just so much damage from years ago that L’manburg just never got around to fixing, if they ever would get around to fixing. The damage might have been too extensive for any of their help into restoring this one peaceful part of the city.

The only movement Tommy’s eyes could catch was the flurry of snowflakes cascading from the skies.

“I could have sworn..”

Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

Tommy was just about to turn around until he saw it. Perfectly imprinted into the snow was a set of footprints just a bit to the right of his.

There was a creak above him and Tommy frantically looked up to see some sort of fire escape or balcony that was heavily rusted. A glob of snow slipped off and fell directly hitting him in the face.

“Cold-cold-cold-ohfuckingshit-”

Tommy used his jacket sleeves to try and wipe off the snow that landed on his face. If his face wasn’t already cold it now felt like ice and stung from the way it was now wet and how the wind seemed to use that to attack him with little gusts of knives slicing into him.

There was a thump behind him, louder than what a pile of snow would sound like if any more fell from that fire escape.

Tommy pivoted on his heel to face whatever made that sound.

He came face to face with a horribly drawn smiley face mask.

“Hello,” Tommy began hesitantly. When he spoke a cloud formed into the air and disappeared with the wind.

Beyond the snowflakes and poor lighting Tommy could see a little bit more than the smiley face mask. The man wore a training spandex that looked a little worse for wear that some parts were heavily stained and contrasted completely with the neon green that he wore. With how dark it was Tommy couldn’t actually pinpoint what exactly the stain was. 

The mask was cracked around the nose part and looked like it was smashed face down into the ground over and over. He couldn’t see through the eye holes or through the crack in the mask from where the man stood in the shadows.

“Tommy Innit?” The man wearing the smiley face mask asked.

A drop of fear fell into the bucket that Tommy had been carrying with him like luggage all day.

“H-huh-” He stuttered.

How did this man know his name? Scratch that- Why does this man know his name? What could he possibly want with Tommy?

The man took a step forward and Tommy took a step back.

The smiley face man raised his hand almost as if he was trying to placate a panicking Tommy.

And he wasn’t panicking! Tommy was very much not panicking over the fact that a total stranger knew his name!

“Listen Listen-! I know you’re probably very freaked out right now and for a very good reason,” His voice was high pitched like it was trying to be reassuring and friendly.

“Who-Who are you?” Tommy questioned.

“I’m-”

“Why have you been following me? You’re the one that has been following me, right?”

The man took a step forward with his hands still in the air. Tommy took another step back onto the road and off the sidewalk.

“One at a time-”

“What do you want with me? Nevermind- Just leave me the hell alone, alright? Just fuck off already!” Tommy took another few steps back.

His hand left his coat pocket and fumbled for his back pocket. Tommy’s fingers felt like ice and moved just about as well as an icicle would. His fingers struggled to clasp around his pocket knife but once he did he tugged it out from his pocket and brandished it like a shield between him and that man in front of him.

“Just shut up!” The man bellowed out.

“Put the knife away.” He said in a calmer tone.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me to put my knife away when you were JUST STALKING ME!” Tommy cried. His teeth were clenched from both the cold and fear that only made him colder. His eyebrows were drawn and he was making his best attempt and being angry and scary but he’s more scared if anything.

Tommy clenched the knife tighter in his hands, one hand on the grip and the other was wrapped together around his hand. He has no clue how to actually use it and he hopes he doesn’t have to find out. It was a short knife and would most likely be more of a deterrent than an actual weapon.

“Do you want me to answer your questions or will you continue to scream like a little girl!”

“I am not a little girl, you are!”

Tommy falls silent and so does that man.

“Okay, just let me get out from underneath this thing. The snow is freezing.”

The masked man walks out from underneath the fire escape and out of the shadows. His hands were still in the air like he was trying to not spook Tommy into running. Like he was some rabid animal.

Tommy blinked when he saw this man in full.

He recognized that guy.

Tommy remembered the man that he left for dead seven days ago.

He left him to bleed out in an alleyway that no one would ever likely find him.

Tommy remembered this man screaming, calling out for him to help him and he just ran. He ran like healing him was going to get himself killed.

Is that why this masked man is here? Is he here to get some sick revenge for Tommy abandoning him in that alleyway? Why else would he be here, then?

“My name is Trance.” The masked man began. “Number Forty-Five.”

Tommy tilted his head.

This was a newer hero. In fact, he thinks he recalls this man's debut from only a few months ago.

“I- I remember you now.”

“Well,” He laughs nervously. “That makes one, I guess.”

“Alright Trance, why are you here?” Tommy readjusted his blade higher.

Trance shuffled his feet nervously. He was tense and seemed to be almost frantic.

“Okay, this is going to sound bad so I don’t want you to freak out.”

“YOU. HAVE. BEEN. STALKING. ME. I’ll freak out if I want to.”

There was a buzzing sound coming from Trance’s pocket. He didn’t move to silence it. It was like he already knew what that buzzing sound meant.

They were frozen in place facing each other. They were in a standoff where they both knew who would win if it turned into a fight. They both wished it wouldn't turn into a fight.

“Five hours left.”

Trance’s voice was haunted when those words stumbled out from his mouth.

“Five hours until what? You still haven’t told me why the fuck you have been stalking me!” Tommy cried.

“I don't have time for this anymore,” Trance started to approach him.

Tommy matched his steps as he walked backwards from him. This man is strong enough to have made hero ranks. There is no way that Tommy is taking his eyes off of this man for one second.

It was like his entire demeanor changed. At first, he seemed frantic with energy. He was desperate in whatever he was trying to get from Tommy but was willing to talk his way into getting it.

Now? It was like the dark shadows of Pogtopia exclusively casted a shade over his mood. The steps he took before were cautious but now he had no care if he spooked Tommy. It was like that sound that came from that man's pocket changed him so entirely.

“I’m going to give you two options. You either come with me willingly or I will take you by force. And Tommy, you really don’t want me to take you by force.”

Trance’s words were dangerous. His voice was low and threatening.

“Like the hell I will!” Tommy stressed. His eyes were wide with fear.

This man was going to kidnap him!

This man was going to kidnap him and could get away with it easily.

“I have a family! I have friends! I have a job! Don’t- don’t do this man.” Tommy took another step back, losing his footing for a moment on ice. When he looked back up from the ground Trance was a lot closer before.

Oh fucking shit.

What the fuck was he going to do against that?

“No you don’t,” Trance replied ominously.

“Your family consists of a drunken mother who can’t even sober up to get a job. You are friends with a singular kid who hasn’t had the time to call you back for a week. Your job wouldn’t give a shit if you didn’t show up tomorrow because they don’t even have the decency to even give you a car ride on a night where the weather is almost record breaking.”

“What?” Tommy whispered.

How does he know that stuff?

How does he know that his mother is a drunk and that his best friend hasn't replied to a single phone call or text message for a week? How does he know that his coworkers denied him a car right tonight and let him walk home all by himself?

“Make this easier on yourself, Tommy. No one even cared that a customer has been harassing you for nights now. How he has been staring at you, taking notes about your life, asking about your cameras. No one will care if you go missing, and they never have.”

Trance took a step further.

“Is that a camera over there? What kind is it? Sorry, you probably don’t know that. Does it record all of the time? I’m sure it does but I don't think I see a blinking red light on it-”

“Let me know if this customer shows back up again today. I’ll be here all day and I really don’t mind having a chat with him about etiquette and staring at strangers, alright?”

Tommy approached Niki’s door and knocked on it. When Tommy didn’t get a response he figured that she didn't hear him and knocked a little louder.

“Hey Tommy, Niki’s not here. She left about an hour ago,” Ranboo called from the kitchen.

“I don't have the time to drive to that side of town tonight. maybe if you had let me know yesterday i could have managed it but…”

Just like all the days before it rang until it went straight to voicemail.

“You-You’re Dream!” Tommy gasped. “You’re that-”

Trance took a swing at Tommy who was too distracted to notice it coming until it was too late.

His fist collided into Tommy’s skull whipping his head violently to the side.

Tommy immediately looked back and swung his blade out toward Trance. Trance leaned back when the small knife neared him then immediately approached. 

“Stay ba-ck-”

Trance knocked the knife from Tommy’s hand. It tumbled out of reach and hid itself into the fluffy snow that fell all around them.

“Stop fighting back! I don’t want to hurt you!” Trance yelled his plea.

“You punched me? You fucking punched me!”

Tommy pulled his hands up and got into a very messy fighting stance.

When Trance got closer Tommy threw a bunch. The punch landed right in Trance’s block when he raised his forearms to protect his face. Tomy then threw his other one at his stomach where he wasn’t protecting.

Trance grabbed his fist and Tommy panicked when he was thrown.

Tommy slid into the snow on his hands and feet.

“Come on Tommy. Stop fighting. You know by now that you can’t win right?”

And Trance was right.

Tommy was a healer. He was never meant to be a fighter despite all of his harsh edges and his need to be the first to draw blood in an argument. He was never trained to fight. He was never supposed to leave the fucking hospital in the first place.

There’s only one thing that Tommy might be able to do.

He took off running.

“Oh fuck you-”

His feet pounded into the snow and concrete. Defined footsteps sounded behind him as he was being chased. The wind brushed his hair back and behind him leaving his face wide open to the elements.

He just needed to get out of Pogtopia and-

And-

And-

Arms wrapped around his torso.

Tommy’s eyes widened in fear as his momentum was forcefully stopped.

All of Tommy’s air got knocked from his lungs in a woozy exhale. He crashed to the floor, head hitting the curb to the sidewalk causing stars to fill his vision and a hum to fill his ears. He choked as air tried to fill his lungs again.

nononononononononono

Tommy tried to move despite being dazed. His limbs didn't want to respond to him.

nopleasenopleaseplease

Trance crawled over him and grabbed both of his arms. Tommy’s struggle was weak and the fully trained hero probably didn't even struggle against his weak punches and squeezed his wrists together.

“Please…” Tommy croaked out.

A zip tie surrounded his wrists and tied them together.

“Please…”

Trance crawled off of him and crabbed both of his ankles. They were pinned together and a zip tie was used to keep them in place.

Tommy tried to blink the stars from out of his eyes but the more the stars left it was replaced with darkness. Each blink he saw less and less of what Trance was doing and he lost more and more of his bodily function.

Trance grabbed him by the shoulders and hardly struggled picking his dead weight from off of the snow covered ground.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, i'm so sorry… imso orry… ”

Tommy didn’t open his eyes again.

Chapter Text

Consciousness was slow.

Tommy’s head felt dizzy with a sensation he couldn’t explain. His head was heavy when he tried to move it and it bounced to a rhythm he wasn't quite aware of. Blood rushed from his body all the way to his head making him feel stuffed and his head ache something fierce.

When his eyes finally peeked open the ground underneath swirled and bobbed. He was bounced up and down with a rhythm that he can now relate to being footsteps.

He was being carried.

He was being carried over someone's shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“W-Wha-” He mumbled in confusion with lips that barely moved.

Oh fucking shit! He was being kidnapped! He was actively being carried off right now!

When looking back he remembers a flash of green and a strained voice telling him to stop fighting him. There was a haunting smiley face that plagued the few memories he had before he was knocked out and now he had no idea where he was and what was going to happen to him!

Tommy tried to wiggle and when both his hands and feet refused to work separately he resorted to flopping around like a fish and praying.

“Stay still-” A voice hissed.

Hah! No fucking way is he going to stay still and- and just allow himself to be kidnapped by a corrupted hero!

“Fu-uck! YOU!” Tommy screamed.

He was angry. He was so beyond angry.

“Let-!” A kick. “Me-!” Another kick. “GO-” And one last kick to drive the point in.

“Would you just stay fucking still for one moment you piece of shit!” Dream cursed back, readjusting his grip on Tommy.

“You kidnapped me! There is no way I’m just going to let you do that!”

Tommy kicked him again, as hard as he could when both of legs were bound. And he punched Dream’s gut for good measure when his kicks seemed to do nothing.

Dream grunted when his punch sunk into his gut.

“Put me down you freak! You disgusting-!”

For a dizzying moment he was lifted off of Dream;s shoulders with not too kind hands. He thought that maybe Dream was actually listening. Maybe his shouts and screams and fighting was too troublesome for a kidnapper.

But no, Tommy knew better.

Tommy was dropped face first into that snow. He cried at the sudden shock of temperature. He was cold before but adrenaline made his body sluggishly push blood through his body, keeping him warmer than he was before.

His shoulder was gripped then he was flipped over onto his back.

Tommy’s eyes widened at the sight of Dream standing menacingly over him.

The hero was rummaging through his pockets looking for something. His hands patted over certain pouches he wore and then he would tear into them looking for something in particular.

“Let me go,” Tommy demanded with all the false bravado he could muster.

“I can’t!” Dream gritted through his teeth.

“Yes you can!” Tommy rebuked. 

“It’s really not that hard for you to take off these zip ties and let me go. Here, I’ll even show you. Just give me something sharp.” Tommy lifted his bound wrists toward Dream.

“That’s not the problem,” Dream murmured.

One of his hands fished something out of his pocket and he turned to face Tommy with it. It was a roll of tape, small, but then Dream was pulling pieces out and connecting them to create a larger piece.

Tommy eyes the piece of tape and when it neared his face he violently threw himself to the ground to escape.

“Get away from me!” Tommy cried.

“Please,” Dream pleaded. “I just need you quiet right now so stop- moving-”

Dream grabbed Tommy’s shoulder and was trying to haul him back in a sitting position but Tommy was just not having it. He was not going to sit there helpless while Dream continued to tie him up. He was going to fight back! He had to.

For a few long moments Dream struggled to get Tommy to sit still and let him put the tape over his mouth.

Tommy was thrashing around as best as he could in hopes that Dream would just give up. It didn't matter how cold he was and how the snow was starting to get his coat damp and leak into his work clothes underneath.

Tommy’s blood ran cold when he felt a heavy weight settle over his back, effectively stopping his thrashing and pinning him into the floor. His hair was then yanked, lifting his head from the ground and forcing him to face Dream.

“Stop- No- Please- Dream don’t do this-” Tommy pleaded with wide eyes desperately trying but to tear up against the pain in his scalp.

The tape hovered over his mouth before the sticky side trapped his lips together. Dream smoothed it over making sure there was no way that Tommy could break the seal or tear it off easily.

Dream gripped his upper arm with a tight grip and hauled him into a sitting position. Tommy turned his head away from Dream, not wanting to see his kidnappers face.

“Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Look at me!”

Tommy then slowly turned his attention to Dream with a scathing glare.

His head hurt. His body ached all over. He couldn’t stop himself from shivering due to his damp clothes and the chilling wind beating him.

Dream’s hand came to the bottom of his mask and he pulled it up and over his head, revealing his face underneath. His eyes were even darker than they were a few hours ago when Tommy saw him at the cafe. His hair was unkempt and floated around his head, caught up in the wind. And his face was absolutely remorseful.

If Tommy could sneer, he would have. He instead had to settle for a glare.

“Tommy, I need you to listen to me. It’s very important that you listen to me.”

Tommy glowered.

Dream leaned back and settled onto his haunches.  His hands were being nervously wrung together as Dream looked very intensely at Tommy.

“I’m going to be very real with you right now,” Dream began.

“I angered a bad group of people.”

Tommy raised a brow. 

He didn’t want to listen to Dream. He just wanted to be home in his bed where it was warm and dry. But… Dream was finally talking to him. Maybe he’ll actually tell Tommy why he was being kidnapped.

“I just-” He paused. “I just need you to follow along. Everything will be fine if you just- listen to me. These people are horrible. The worst of the worst. There is no talking to them or trying to make peace, I've tried. That's why I'm doing all of this.”

Tommy shook his head in denial.

“You don’t understand!” Dream shouted. He stood up from his crouch and started to pace.

“They took him! They took my best friend and are threatening to kill him if I don't get them a-” Dream paused and looked at Tommy.

“I’ve known Obelisk since I was a kid. We grew up together. We went through the rigorous training of being a hero together. We ranked together. We became a duo. It was just us two against the world and now-?”

Dream paused and looked down the street with a lost gaze.

“Who knows what they will do to him if I don’t get them what they want. I saw what they were willing to do just to get me to listen to them.”

Dream rubbed his hands down his face.

“I- I don’t think this will make up for anything I'm about to do. Or what I’ve done, really. But I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry and I know Obelisk wouldn't have wanted this but I can’t- I can't live without him. Can you understand that?”

Tommy only glared.

He didn’t want to sympathize with his kidnapper no matter how much his words strike his heart.

Nothing could make up for the fact that he was kidnapping someone as some sort of- debt? To repay a group of people that he angered.

‘Run little hero’

Tommy shivered.

Dream’s eyes turned to steel. He pulled his mask back over his face, concealing his expressions behind a smile. “I see. It doesn’t matter what you think, not anymore. I just have to turn you in and I get my best friend back. That’s all I have to do. Then I can go back to my normal life and actually sleep for once.”

Dream hauled Tommy up to his feet. It was awkward since Tommy couldn't really balance himself but when he began to tip over Dream just used the momentum to better sling Tommy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“It doesn't matter if you understand or not. As long as I get him back, I don’t think I care if you make it out alive or not.”

The dread started to sink in as Dream walked.

There was no out now.

—-

The walk to wherever Dream was going was a long one made longer by the constant fight between Tommy, the snow, and him having absolutely no idea how to navigate Pogtopia.

Every step felt like torture to Tommy.

He had no idea where he was going. Pogtopia, while not the biggest section of L’manburg, was still a pretty big place. There were only so many alleyways but they all generally look the same and it's not like Tommy has explored this abandoned place in its entirety. Besides the normal route and a few routes that barely branched off of it, Pogtopia stayed a mystery. One Tommy was fairly content keeping unknown.

Dream took another turn, and another until something started to grow vaguely familiar, even if he was seeing upside down for the first time.

Tommy took a look around and immediately recognized this very apartment complex. It was the same one he saw Trance run out of a little over a week ago. His nightmares wouldn’t let him forget this place no matter how much he wanted to.

Any sort of hope he had of making it out alive was quickly dimming.

Tommy remembered the screams. They may have been faint but the absolute shrill volume told him they were just muffled and not because whatever was causing that person to scream was mild.

Tommy was content to just ignore that the whole event ever happened. He was content to just forget the gruff voice, the high pitched screams, and the hero that was slowly dying in that alleyway.

He tried to replace those memories with happier, more fun filled ones in hopes that it would just- go away.

Dream slowed down to a stop before suddenly slipping Tommy off of his back. He balanced Tommy in the position he was standing in with only a few adjustments. He struggled a lot, trying to hold the position of a penguin because he really really didn't want to fall back into the snow.

Dream crouched down in front of him. A pocket knife appeared in one hand and the other hand raised palm facing him. “Do. Not. Move. Do you understand?”

Tommy nodded jerkily.

Dream bent forward and started to hack away at the zip tie around his ankles. His knife must have been dull because it took a few swipes before the ziptie broke.

As much as Tommy wanted to run he felt frozen still by his environment.

There were still bloodstains in the snow left over from Dream bleeding out. Due to it being in the terrible side of L’manburg, no one really comes here. The only people that do are most likely people who don’t want any kind of attention over them. 

There's mutual respect out here, keep to your business and I'll keep to mine. Of course no one would ever report the bloodstains, or the screams. 

Tommy sure didn't, he didn’t like attention either.

Dream stood up from his ground and his hand wound up encircling his upper arm.

“Okay. Okay.” Dream breathed.

“It’s almost over.”

Dream took a moment to breathe and collect all of his confidence. One foot in front of he other he began to approach the alleyway door near them.

Oh. Oh no.

Tommy twisted and planted his feet into the ground trying to delay the inevitable.

He was in the middle of nowhere. About to be some sort of trade between a clearly distressed hero and a ruthless ground that decided to kidnap and torture someone to get- something that involved Tommy.

Even if he had free range of his mouth it's not like anyone would help him if he screamed loud enough.

Tommy could run. He was fast and Dream had brought him to an area that he knew like the back of his hand but…

Dream knew where he lived. He knew where Tommy worked. He knew everything about Tommy, even the stuff that was never supposed to see the light of day.

And Dream was a hero! Heroes can't do anything wrong, ever. It's not like he could go to the police and say that a hero is trying to kidnap him and sell him off to a dangerous gang in exchange for another hero to return safely.

They would never believe him or worse. There was always worse.

There was no escaping Dream or whatever this encounter was. There was only delaying. And in Tommy’s experience, delaying made people all the more angry and Tommy didn't want to anger this group of people.

Dream's hand rose to the door and meekly knocked.

Both parties froze when they heard a pair of footsteps beyond the door. 

Tommy eyes the door listening to what was beyond it.

The click of the boots against hardwood flooring is the only thing Tommy could hear. The tapping made Tommy nervous. The steps are slow, as if the person has no care in the world. It felt self assured, cocky, proud? 

Dream stiffened impossibly further beside him.

Could he recognize the sound of this person's footfalls?

Just who were they?

Tommy took a deep breath and tried to mirror Dream’s confidence.

He couldn't let his fear rule him and become complacent. In this unknown place with unknown people he couldn’t let his thoughts stray from anywhere that wasn’t the present.

There was a squeal as the door slowly opened. 

It was almost like a horror movie, watching helplessly as the monster opened the door to the closet that you were hiding behind. Praying that they couldn't see you or would search the room instead of just a quick glance. Unlike the movies, he knew for sure that the monster would find him. There were no boxes or clothes to hide behind. Tommy was out in the open, an offering to the monster.

Light spilled from the door as it opened and illuminated the dingy alleyway.

Tommy fleetingly thought of Tubbo.

He wished he pried Tubbo’s mouth open and rid him of whatever secrets he had been hiding since the night Tommy had found him half dead on his porch. Tommy wanted to know what happened to him and why Tubbo was letting that come between their years of friendship.

He just wanted to say goodbye.

“Trance, lovely seeing you again mate, did you bring them?”

Tommy squinted trying to see past the yellowish light that illuminated the man's silhouette. Though Tommy knew shadows warp and exaggerate what the object is but he was sure that he saw wings? He shook his head and the shadow was gone.

Trance’s grip on him grew impossibly tighter as he dragged him closer to the door. Tommy knew he couldn't get out of this easily, especially with two people. They could both easily outrun him with how tired and cold he was.

“Yes, he’s right here. Now I want Obelisk back,” Trance demanded.

The man in the doorway tsked. “Now, is it polite to demand things of others? I have half the mind to not deliver my end of the bargain.”

Dream froze in his approach. “You wouldn't do that, would you?”

“Come inside mate. It's freezing out there.” The man replied, ice as cold as the snow that was falling.

The concrete turned into worn out flooring as Tommy was pushed through the doorway and into the apartment building. As soon as he entered the building there was a faint noise coming from the end of the hallway that he couldn't decipher.

Dream paused looking around and so did Tommy.

It looked like a normal lobby for an apartment if it weren't so dirty and unkept.

“Zephyrus this isn't-” Dream gulped, choking down the words he truly wanted to say.

Zephyrus? Turned over his shoulder to look at Dream urging him to continue. When the hero didn't finish, he responded. “No need to worry mate. We're still going to see him, that set up was only temporary. Here, follow me would you?” 

Zephyrus? Why is that name familiar again? 

The lights flickered and some were long burned out, a tell of how old this building was. Spiderwebs clung to the ceiling, dancing in the wind that was caused from them just walking by. Dirt and dust caked the floor. The cleanest place he could spot was from the trail of footsteps they were following.

Zephyrus was hard to make out in the poor lighting. The outfit he wore was… Interesting.

He wore a dark green kimono and had a red heart dangling off of a chain around his neck. His combat boot clunked heavily against the squeaking floor. His hide brimmed bucket hat had green and white stripes all along it. His hat was probably the most absurd thing the man was wearing, beside the plague doctor's mask.

They made their way up several flights of stairs, the floor became carpeted at some point. It was just as dirty and worn down as the wooden floors were. Zephyrus was leading them into one of the larger rooms the apartment had, Tommy was sure. He just didn't know why. 

Finally they made it to their destination signaled by Zephyrus pausing in front of a door where crying was coming from. The room looked just the same as all the other doors except for a large bloody handprint. It took a moment for Tommy to realize that was what it was.

He gave a sequence of knocks that Tommy struggled to commit to memory but it was too fast and sporadic so he ultimately failed. A scream tore its way through someone's throat when the knock came. It made Tommy’s heart sink. 

Whoever these people were, they didn't mind tutoring people.

The door was opened without warning, the carpet must have softened any footsteps the man in front of him could have made. Trance gave a sharp intake of air. 

Tommy looked up against his better judgment and was met with a skull mask. It was dirty and dented but it just added to the atmosphere of death that radiated from the man standing in front of him. He stared into the empty eyes of the mask instantly recognizing the man.

The human skull mask and the red cape- Tommy’s eyes darted all over the man, taking in every detail he could find. The clip that held his cape on his shoulders was gold with the symbol of the synd- Tommy choked, tears threatened to blur his vision. He had pink hair, braided with gold and such, the braid limply laid on the man's shoulder. He wore gloves, said gloves were stained with crimson blood. A sight he often associated with the man.

Protesilaus was the man who stood in front of him… Then that must mean- Tommy quickly looked over at Zephyrus who was just casually standing off to the side and… now he recognizes the man. 

These people were the Syndicate. Trance was trading him off to the fucking syndicate! The cruelest villain group in L’manburg!

Tommy’s eyes widened out of fear and realization. The size was almost comical, it was as wide as dinner plates showcasing his fear for everyone to see. 

Holy fucking shit he was going to die.

“Protesilaus, Trance has arrived with the healer, would you mind receiving Obelisk?” The fucking- fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Tommy avoided the news like the plague.

He hates watching the galas and fancy talk shows with heroes. He also hated seeing reality that showed far more wounds and broken bones than what he thought was allowed.

While he hated watching the news, he couldn't have avoided the ghost that was the Syndicate.

People refused to talk of it like if they spoke their name it would summon them. But Tommy had seen those injuries. He had felt the wounds that they caused under his fingers. So he avoided them like everyone else had.

Now he wished he paid a little more attention.

He took a deep breath in, which was hard with the tape on, his mouth but he managed. He released his breath after a few seconds.

After a few repeats of his breathing practices he looked up to see Protesilaus’ lips curve just the slightest. The villain turned to walk further into the room he just came out of. 

Tommy watched Prostelius disappear around a corner, the same direction where the quiet sobbing came from. A few muffled words sounded out before the sobbing renewed in earnest.

The sobbing made Tommy’s heart ache. It pierced into the depths of him and squeezed his empathy in a tight grip. The cries from this unknown man not only filled Tommy with fear but weakened his stance of bravado.

How could he stand unflinching in the face of that?

Dream was shaking behind him, Tommy could tell. They both stared at that corner in horror.

Tommy struggled to reconcile the image of hero and his kidnapper into one. Dream- or Trance was put into an unbearable position. His best friend, Obelisk was taken and held hostage in exchange for… whatever Tommy was supposed to have.

The screams have to be Obelisk.

Was Dream really going to give Tommy to the Syndicate?

Damn, he really wished he fought harder when Dream took him.

He should have ran faster or fought harder. He has limited training but he could have done something! He knows Pogtopia better than any hero should and could have easily lost Dream in that maze. He should have done something .

There was the sound of a chair being dragged across the carpet.

His suspicions were confirmed as Protesilaus walked through the doorway dragging Obelisk behind him in a chair. Trance almost growled at seeing the state Obelisk was in. Tommy could definitely admit that it wasn't pretty. 

At the center of the room Protesilaus turned Obelisk around and presented his handiwork for Dream.

Obelisk was in horrific condition. 

His mask had been ripped off of his face leaving his wide brown eyes open for the room to see. His eyes were rimmed with red from the amount of crying he had been doing. Some sort of cloth was shoved into the man's mouth, muffling his cries and pleas. Old scratches littered his face but it was the easiest part to look at.

Curiosity mixed with horror drew his eyes lower.

His body was mutilated.

Deep jagged cuts littered up and down his arms and chest. They were barely bandaged, enough to keep Obeliesk from bleeding out. His hero costume was stained with dark crimson blood both old and new. There were a few burns but it wasn’t as much as the cuts. His arm stuck out in a weird ankle that told Tommy it surely was broken.

His legs weren’t in as bad of shape but Tommy eyes the deep stab wound. It didn't nick any important arteries but Tommy could see the dried blood where it had welled up and spilled over and onto his clothes. This wound was older but it was the most serious.

Dream trembled with barely concealed rage behind him.

“You-”

Protesilaus didn't even hesitate to place his hand in Obelisk's hair and yank his head back, revealing his throat. A knife easily slid into place, just barely pressing into the hero's skin. A drop of red bubbled up and slid down the neck, mixing into the already blood stained costume.

Dream reeled back in shock.

Zephyrus took a step forward and smiled, hands clasped in front of him. A gesture that was supposed to be friendly turned sour. The tension was building in the room, so thick that it was tangible and Tommy felt like he was choking on it. 

Everyone eyes each other for weaknesses. Tommy knew what it looked like when a fight was about to break out and he really didn't want to get caught between the Syndicate and a low leveled hero.

“Calm down Trance.” Zephyrus stepped forwards blocking Protesilaus from view. The man behind him just huffed; it sounded almost like laughter. 

“I'm a man of my word, I don't break promises easily. We would hand over Obelisk but-”

“What?” Trance took another step forward in a threatening manner. 

In Tommy’s opinion, the syndicate could never flinch at someone like him. They are fucking ruthless, one of the worst things to happen to this city. Besides- that of course, but they come a close second. Though if he was asked who was scarier at the moment he would say Dream because Tommy was sure that the hero had forgotten that he was even holding the kid.

“He isn't well enough to make the trip all the way to the hero tower, you see. Just look at all these wounds.”

Tommy eyes the wounds. Sure, it would be a pain to get him there but he still had a functioning leg and Dream could definitely support him. Most of the wounds were already bandaged and besides jarring the broken arm and stab wound none of the other injuries seemed to be much of a worry.

He would be safer out of their hands, that was for sure.

“He is-” Dream tried to rebut.

Zephyrs stepped back and waved his hand almost in a casual manner. Apparently the gesture was a signal as Protesilaus brings his knife away from the hero's throat and stabs Obelisk’s leg, the one that wasn't bandaged, hard.

Tommy’s scream came out muffled behind the tape over his mouth but it was nowhere near compared to the screech that Obelisk gave.

Tommy tried to push himself away from the carnage unfolding in front of him. He backed up into Dream and tried to push back when he wouldn't budge.

A familiar feeling crawled up Tommy as he eyed the blood that was dripping down the hero's leg. 

His hands itched to grab at the wound and heal it. Tommy swears that he could even feel the blood seeping through his fingers. He wants to feel the skin stitch itself back together under his hands. 

An even darker part wanted to be the cause of the screaming but of course he ignored those thoughts, they were nothing new.

Zephrus hummed like he was actually worried for Obelisk’s well being. He looked over at the sobbing man and shook his head.

“You see Trance. Obelisk’s legs are in no condition to walk, or even move at all for that matter. He could even bleed out before you get him to the tower! That would be truly devastating.” Zephyrs’ voice almost seemed genuine with pity if his smile didn't contradict that. 

“HOW COULD YOU-” Dream screamed and lurched forward, almost knocking Tommy over.

Protesilaus raised the knife up again to Obelisk's neck. The hero didn't seem to notice it was there as he was too busy trying to withstand the pain. That action froze Dream in his tracks.

Zephyrs slowly moved his head to gaze at Obelisk’s wound. His tongue clicked as if he was thinking of a plan to solve the issue. But Tommy knew this was all planned, he was just waiting for him to get on with what he wanted. Suddenly Zephyrs snapped his fingers in a matter that let everyone know he had an answer to the problem.

“I have a solution, we have a healer right here don't we.” Zephyrs turned to address Tommy for the first time that night with a wave of his hand.

Tommy’s eyes widened.

Healer-?

Tommy looked over to Dream and everything made a lot more sense than it had all night.

The only people that would know that he was a healer would be the heroes. There were sure to be plenty of documents detailing everything about him from his powers to his life. There were trials and tests and documentations of him lying around somewhere for them to find. And Dream had found it. And Dream had sentenced him.

But if Dream knew everything about him then why would he even pick him?

“How about you heal Obelisk and we can get to taking off those binds, hm?” Zephyrs looked straight into Tommy’s eyes, the black plague doctor mask bore into him.

Tommy looked over at Obelisk.

Healing. Besides Tubbo, it's been so long since he's used his powers.

But Tommy has always been a survivor, for better or for worse.

Tommy nodded his head and almost shivered when Zephyrs smiled. 

“Good, let's get started shall we? Obelisk is in a lot of pain and we should help him as fast as we can.”

At Zephyrs’ encouragement, Dream pushed Tommy towards Obelisk who was now whimpering at the pain instead of downright screaming. Tommy knew when he was beat so he complied and slowly approached Obelisk who eyed him wearily.

When Tommy was close enough to the hero he crouched down to get closer to the leg wound while surveying every cut and scratch Obelisk bore. There was a cut across his cheek where blood mixed with salty tears. Tommy winced knowing that it would only hurt the more the hero cried.

Tommy faced the stab wound in front of him. It was nasty, blood still poured from it steadily mixing with mud and dirt. Tommy should probably clean said wound before healing. Though he eyed his bonds and the villain who were eyeing his every move he realized what they were doing. So he ignored the fact that he had to clean the wound and slowly lifted his hands to hover over the mess that is Obelisk's leg.

The memory of healing Tubbo was still fresh in Tommy’s mind. He remembered grabbing the skin around the wound and slowly pushing it together before the faint glow of his powers activated. He also remembered how hot his powers felt. It was agonizing but Tommy felt glued to the wound until it healed. He really doesn't want to experience the pain again.

Tommy glanced over at Zephyrs and found him staring intensely at him. The villain wanted to see the extent of Tommy’s powers. 

Tommy gulped and found his throat dry. 

His body was tense and sore. The zip ties rubbed uncomfortably as his hands hovered as best as they could over the wound. He then as quickly as he could pushed the wound closed and healed .

Obelisk screamed when he closed the wound and Tommy was so glad that Tubbo was passed out when he healed him. He wouldn't have been able to shoulder Tubbo’s screams.

Heat, the warmth of his powers finally flowed through his blackened fingers leaking into the skin of Obelisk. The skin was slowly stitching and gluing itself together. It was almost like those weaving craft kits he played with when he was younger. Pieces of skin went under and over other pieces, some pinkish, some pale, and others were still soaked with blood.

His powers were being cautious, making sure to stitch everything correctly, even with the threat of infection hanging over it. The buildup of heat was much slower than it was when he had healed his friend. Must be because it was his first time in years healing when he healed Tubbo. Must be a tolerance thing. 

The longer the muscles and skin stitched, weaved and stretched under his hands, the hotter everything became. His hands felt like fire, as if someone had dipped them in molten lava and wont let him take his hands out until they burned to the bone. An exaggeration, sure, but it's safe to say everything burned.

Then it was over.

Tommy ripped his hands away from Obelisk and shakily stood up. He was beyond exhausted, but adrenaline still flowed through him. Or maybe it was stubbornness, he'd like to believe that was the case. 

The hero before him stared at the closed wound, just like everyone else did. The only sign left of the wound was a faint pink line and the reddened skin that surrounded it.

Everything was silent as the villains and heroes stared at the healed wound. 

Zephyrus was in disbelief, as if he believed the hero would trick him and not actually bring a healer at all. It was smart, make the healer heal the wound to see the pros and cons of said healer. 

They could renegotiate at any time. Force Trance to bring them back a better healer as long as they held Obelisk. They also proved that they weren't getting screwed and that Tommy was in fact a healer.

Zephyrus finally spoke up after a long awful minute, “You did good kid. I guess Trance, this will be the end of our quaint visit.” 

The villain almost looked smug, having the audacity to pretend that this was just a visit. As if Tommy was not currently tied up. That Obelisk wasn't still shivering from the pain of all his other wounds Tommy did not heal. That Zephyrus was still pretending that Trance was willingly here in the first place.

“You got what you want, I can go now, with Obelisk?” Dream took another step closer to Obelisk.

Zephyrus pursed his lips in thought, dragging out this meeting far longer than it should have lasted. What scared Tommy was the fact that he forgot Protesilaus was even there until he spoke up with his question being directed towards Zephyrus. “We did get what we wanted. Those heroes didn't even try to put up a fight…”

Zephyrus stepped forward, far faster than Tommy could react, and grabbed his arm yanking him towards them. The man smiled down at him showing off his sharp teeth. Tommy looked over to see that Dream stepped forward in the time that Zephyrs had grabbed him. Said hero was looking uneasy, he had just lost his bargaining chip.

“Well I suppose we could play nice, just this once.” Zephyrus whispered something underneath his breath, quiet enough to where Tommy couldn't hear him. The man then raises his clawed hands and slowly cuts through the zip tie that binded Tommy. 

“See? I always keep my promises.”

Tommy raised his hands to the piece of tape on his mouth hesitantly not wanting to upset the villain in front of him. 

The villain's eyes just tracked Tommy’s hands, not once reaching out to stop him. Soon the piece of tape joins the zip tie in a pile on the floor. 

The villain hummed and turned back to the scene in front of them, not before placing his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. The hand felt more confining than the zip ties did, it felt as if he was chained to the ground, powerless to do nothing.

“Protesilaus,” Zephyrus called.

Protesilaus smiled, wicked teeth peeking out from underneath his boar mask.

The knife glinted against the ceiling light as it arced through the arc and across Obelisk’s neck. Blood immediately poured from the deep wound and onto the floor. With each heartbeat the blood gushed to its time. The spray from the gash coated the floor and rushed across the room reaching the several people in there.

Blood splattered on Tommy's face and he cried out in terror.

Tommy couldn't pull his eyes away from the scene as much as he wanted to be able to.

Dream screeched, “GEORGE!”

George's life quickly drained from his eyes as his life blood poured from him. The cut was deep enough that the man's head hung backwards much farther than it should have been capable of. The blood slowed but still continued to flow.

Dream's fear and anguish quickly turned to rage at the man who killed his best friend. “I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Zephyrus pulled Tommy away from Dream's path of rage. Dream's powers came to his aid as wrathful as the man himself was. Green gas spilled from his fingertips and formed into a ball that hovered over his palm. With a quick thrust it was thrown at Protesilaus.

Protesilaus ducked down to avoid the blast and Tommy watched as the man smeared his hand through George’s blood looking for the knife he had dropped when he dodged.

Dream screamed again, the volume sounded like death. He tried to form another ball of gas in his hands but his emotions were too unstable causing it to dissipate and not hold its shape or listen to him.

Dream rushed Protesilaus when he realized his powers wouldn't help him there.

Protesilaus dodged again and Dream fell onto the corpse of his best friend. For a moment, Dream didn't get back up. He just gazed into his friend's lifeless eyes. Tommy couldn't see beyond the mask Dream wore but the sniffles coming from the man were enough to tell him he was lost in grief. George’s blood soaked through his suit and streaked across his skin.

Dream back up for a moment with a new sense of vengeance. His fists clenched with hatred and his body tensed, ready for a fight. His body twisted toward Protesilaus in a challenge.

Protesilaus tilted his head. His palms came up, crimson with Obelisks’ blood. The droplets began to lift up from his gloves and began to form a shape. The shape grew and grew with more and more droplets coming forth to create its new shape. The form of a wicked machete came to rest in Protesilaus’ palm.

Dream screamed wordlessly and rushed Protesilaus. A fist and a machete swung through the air.

Dream’s head hit the floor before his body could. It stood for a moment, like it was trying to continue on with the fight, but with a well aimed kick from Protesilaus, it fell too.

Tommy screamed and barely realized that new tears were streaming down his face. 

There was just so much blood everywhere.

His eyes were wide as he took in the new gore and the two warm and freshly dead bodies that lay before him, reminding him. The syndicate just killed these two in cold blood. These two newbie heroes were taken in to be used as pawns and were disposed of as pawns.

“Y-you just-” Tommy pulled away from Zephyrs and took a step away.

Tommy turned to catch the villain's face with just a look of pure disgust and horror written all over his.

Zephyrs slowly reached up and tilted his mask off of his face, revealing a man in his late thirties. He had crows feet in the corner of his blue eyes. Black inky feathers line the villains cheek bones. Golden blonde hair framed Zephyrs’ face, some strands stood up with the static that was caused by the cloth of his hat and his mask.

“Now before you start pointing fingers,” Zephyrs began.

“Leaving those two alive would create liabilities.”

Zephyrus approached Tommy and laid his hands on the teens shoulders and whispered in his ear.

“And we wouldn't want liabilities, right?”

Tommy shook his head.

He wasn't stupid enough to catch what Zephyrus was pointing out. He would be killed like those heroes would if he didn't behave himself and stay out of their way. Tommy hung his head in some form of submission. He was a survivor. All he had to do was survive.

Zeohyrus looked away from him and addressed Protesilaus. “Now, I know you didn't have to be so dramatic. We don't want our new healer to be all freaked out, would we? You remember how sensitive the old one was.”

Old one? Holy shit.

Protesilaus looked down at the mess and allowed his crystallized weapon to drop to the floor and join the puddle of blood.

“He was weak,” Protesilaus replied, almost monotone.

Zephyrus ran his finger through Tommy’s matted hair. Each tug through his knots made Tommy tense and jump.

“I think,” Zephyrus brushed through his hair. “That we will have much better luck with this one, don’t you think?”

Protesilaus stepped over Dream’s headless corpse and approached Tommy. His mask made up of a human skull got really close to Tommy’s face. Through the depths of the eyeholes Protesilaus red eyes shone from the abyss.

“We better. It took a lot of work to get our hands on this one. It better be worth it,” Protesilaus drawled.

Zephyrus’ hand slid from his hair and gripped his chin, raising his gaze to meet his own. They both looked at him and judged him. Tommy judged them back. He needed to know everything about them, like they needed to know everything about him. He wanted weaknesses, they wanted strength.

“He’s going to be a great addition to the family. I just know it,” Zephyrus smiled.

Tommy wanted to pull away from the eyes that felt like they were dissecting him. He was tired and conflicted and just wanted to go home.

The blood had cooled on his skin making it tacky and was flaking off when his face moved. The dead hero, Dream, is the only person who knows where he has gone. Anyone else will just chalk up his experience. It's not like he was someone people could miss. He was brash and loud and was frankly bad at his job, Prime bless Niki for putting up with him for as long as she had.

Tommy would be just another statistic and he couldn't do a damn thing to fight it.

Protesilaus grimace upturned into a grin and hummed out a phrase to Tommy. It was a chilling phrase he never wanted to hear again. Here it was, that was the hot iron that burned into his skin, marking him. It felt damning and only made the situation all the more real and terrifying.

“Welcome to the Syndicate kid.”

Chapter Text

The mission was successful.

The syndicate now has a healer, a powerful one in fact. One that could heal deep, nerve severing wounds within minutes. With all the pain and effort that went into getting one. Capturing two heroes, blackmail, and the continued week of stalking, they finally got one.

The plan went perfectly. 

Of course it did! Phil did, in fact, design it after all. Though Techno doesn't quite understand why his father was upset to know the healer was as young as he was.

Phil has always been soft towards kids. He refuses to do any jobs that could even remotely harm those sticky hand menaces. He has murdered mercilessly, hundreds on top of hundreds. Phil has knocked empires down, he has removed corrupt governments, he has taken the worst of the worst and made them something more . He ultimately saved people from the injustice that is society. 

So why does he have a soft spot for kids?

Techno doesn't know. All he does know is that if his father didn't, Techno would have died in that bedroom. He would have never gotten to the age eighteen. For that, he can put up with everything else.

He can't judge that much. Techno shouldn't judge that much. 

Phil was smart, resourceful, talented, his savior and father figure. He could make up the most tactile of plans and have them succeed even with the setback of not harming children. That is why he is the boss. He is merciful and cruel, just and unrighteous. 

That is why Techno admires him.

They had planned this day for a really long time.

The last healer finally collapsed underneath all of the blood and gore that they drug behind them. Neither him nor Phil knew that that was a possibility but it made sense. Healers often gave life and violence, even death, was not something they should be exposed to for long.

They tried to go without a healer for some time. They had limited medical knowledge and knew when to use it. There were few bumps and scrapes but when Apollyon ran into the Warden his injuries were way beyond anything they had hopes of saving. He almost died that night and that was enough for them to come to the decision of getting another healer.

Healers were peaceful things, the complete opposite of the Syndicate.

Techno glanced down at the sleeping healer in his arms. Cuts and scrapes and bruises were all over his body in quantities. He was sleeping fretfully in his arms, having passed out some hours ago between Techno moving the bodies and him having to step into the pool of blood to get to the exit door.

Phil decided he had seen enough, that he knew enough. To keep the healer healthy, a swift blow was more than okay. The healer shouldn’t be trying anything soon and hopefully he never gains a type of stupid bravery to do something in the future.

This boy didn't seem to know peace like most healers do and if he hadn't seen him heal himself Techno would have thought that he was mundane.

There was little care in the way Techno was carrying him and would be even less if it wouldn’t send Phil into a frenzy of obsessive care.

Techno was not one for careful and comforting actions but healers required it to stay stable.

Maybe he was a little too rough on the last one. He wouldn't make the same mistake again.

They could not afford to revert back to the life they had once lived. If that means Techno has to ignore the voices and be on his very best behavior then he would do that. He loves his family far more than his pride.

And if they were to not stress out the healer then they should probably put him in a… calm environment for him to wake up in. Who knows the amount of damage that Trance had done to him in his panic.

Speaking of the holding cell, Techno was finally nearing the door. It wasn't much of a challenge carrying the kid. He weighed a little to little for someone his age. It gave Techno quite a few ideas on his living arrangements and none were good. 

The weight worried Phil, he would probably have a heart attack if the teen was any smaller.

Techno finally ended up approaching the room his boss had told him to keep the healer in. It was just a basic guest room at first. It was rarely used, and when it was it's usually for people to rest and heal in. There isn't much in the bedroom anymore. A bed, a wardrobe, a few hidden compartments, and a few trinkets on some shelves.

And a lock on the outside.

The kid should be out long enough to hold a meeting to discuss what's going to happen from now on. 

Techno scowls at the room. 

Even if healers are rumored to be harmless and not known for being vicious or cunning, it doesn't mean that Techno is placing a lot of trust in him.

There is no arguing against his boss, however. 

A healer needed a nice calm place and this room had done wonders for the last healer.

That was why he didn't argue much for putting a random teenager in the same room as the last.

So he resigns himself to laying the kid on the bed and smothering him in blankets hoping the fatigue will stop him from moving all the heavy wools any time soon. When Techno takes a step back he eyes the boy that was swallowed by the blankets. He was unnaturally thin and light and this room made him look all the much smaller.

The healer didn’t look calm at all even with the warmth of the bed leaking into him. His eyelids fluttered and his eyes raced underneath but not in any sign of consciousness. There were eyebags so deep it seemed almost permanent and not in any way makeup could recreate.

Techno’s eyes were drawn to the pillow beside the kids head.

Smothersmother… smother smother… wake WA–ke - Blood bloooo….oood….

Techno blinked and clenched his twitching hand. He promised Phil and he would be damned if he broke that promise so soon.

The door shut quietly behind Techno when he slipped out of the room. The few locks on the outside were quickly drawn into place.

He could almost relish in the complete silence. It was lovely, something Techno wishes he could indulge in far more often. It was rare for there to be silence for him. Techno leaned against the wall beside the door and closed his eyes.

Ten to twenty minutes or so passed before Techno heard someone approach them. Their footsteps were heavy, deliberate. Or, Techno is thinking far too much. He peeled his eyes open and lifted his head to face where the footsteps were coming from.

“Sir, everyone has arrived for the meeting.”

Techno nodded at the man. He didn't know his name and didn't bother to learn it.

Techno took a step away from the door and turned to double check the locks. The healer shouldn’t be able to break out of the room but Techno was a paranoid man and needed to be more cautious. He turned to eye the man that nervously shifted in front of him.

The meeting was starting and Techno shouldn’t delay it. His father would be upset with him if he did.

Before Techno left fully he gave the goon an order. 

“Bring him to the meeting room when he wakes up.”

The guy stammered behind him as Techno strode off. “How will I know when he’s awake?!”

—

Tommy awoke with a groan. He felt like someone smashed his head against a concrete wall then smothered him in gasoline and lit him on fire. 

Tommy felt like shit. He felt too warm and too foggy and too tired. His mind felt like it was made of cotton candy. It was fuzzy and overwhelming, consuming any thought he could be having at the moment.

In between blinks the ceiling became clearer. It wasn’t familiar, like his star covered ceiling.

The fog over his mind swiftly dissolved, taking all the numbing with it. Everything hit him all at once. The massive headache, the sore arms that most definitely have bruises, and the little annoying scratches he felt around his wrists and elbows. All accompanied by the feeling that he was burning alive. He tried to sit up with the rush but found that something heavy was holding him down.

Where was he?

The thing Tommy was laying on was soft. It felt like a mattress when he ran his hands over it. It must be a bed, it has to be a bed. But whose bed? 

Tommy’s bed was springy and uncomfortable. The springs were in all the wrong spots, the mattress sagged and gave uncomfortable cramps to all his joints. His bed feels like it's going to collapse whenever he lays on it, it doesn’t support him like this one did.

That must mean that the heavy thing holding him down has to be a blanket. A weighted blanket? Or was he just too tired to push against a normal blanket? With far too much effort that Tommy would like to admit he finally sat up. On the first try might he add. It was definitely the fourth try but no one needs to know that. 

He quickly scanned his surroundings as soon as he sat up.

It was a room. A bedroom to be exact.

Where was he?

Tommy remembered how the crimson blood soaked into the wood floor. He remembered the screams of terror and hurt that penetrated his skull and made its home there.

The syndicate took him. 

They double kidnapped him.

This is not what Tommy expected when he thought he was getting kidnapped. He expected a prison cell, or being locked away in a hospital wing so he could endlessly work for them. He expected something just as bad as the hero organization. This just isn't it.

Not yet at least.

Tommy had been going on for a long time that night.

He had been stalked and knocked around by a hero to be kidnapped and traded off. The injuries he sustained from the concussion he surely had would be enough for him to lose consciousness let alone the adrenaline spikes and watching two men get tortured and killed in gruesome ways.

His head was throbbing. With a frown he went to touch the back of his head, hissing in pain when his fingers ran over the bump.

Oh. Tommy was knocked out. Shit.

A panicky feeling rose unwillingly in his chest. 

Finally pushing off all the heavy fucking wool blankets. They were fucking wool! Who the fuck can afford wool? Tommy finally stood up from the bed. He pushed himself off probably a little too hard as his tread bare shoes almost didn't grip the floor in time to catch him.

He still had his stuff?

Tommy quickly patted down his pockets and sighed when all he found was lint. He didn't expect much, Dream had already taken or left a lot of his stuff behind, so he really only had what was on his body.

The bedroom Tommy was in looked… lived in. It wasn’t a guest room but everything in there had a layer of dust coating it. This room was used once, there was no doubt, but not anymore.

Paintings and pictures littered the walls full of unfamiliar faces and sceneries. The desk tucked away into the corner was littered with papers. It had a classic styled lamp on it with a holder that only had one or two pens in it.

It was disturbing, seeing all this life that was full of love and happiness to be… deserted. It gave him the creeps.

He didn’t want to have any part of it.

Tommy needed to leave, now. He was rested and there seemed to be no binds keeping him from moving around. He couldn't waste a great opportunity to escape.

Tommy finally made the walk towards the door, he paused right as he approached it with his hand raised to twist the handle. 

Is it locked? It might be. 

What would happen if he tried to open it? Would it be loud? 

Is anyone guarding the room? Would anyone hear him twist the knob and fail if the door was indeed locked? Would they punish him just for trying? They're villains, Tommy has no chance in winning any fight against them.

He should try. Tommy should try. Just twist the handle, it's not that hard. He softly grips the handle taking a quiet deep breath in and out. What if it is unlocked? He could run. Tommy should at least try to run.

There was no way he was going down without a fight!

With a harder grip, Tommy twisted the door handle as hard as he could.

There was resistance. The door was locked.

No. No no no no no! He needed to get out! He didn’t want to be here! He doesn’t want to be a tool again!

Gasping, Tommy grabbed the door knob and pushed with all of his strength as if he could break it somehow. The door didn’t even creak under his body weight.

With frustration, Tommy slammed his fist into it with a muffled sob.

“Quiet it down in there!" A masculine voice called from outside.

A voice? There was someone out there!

“Please, let me out. I shouldn’t be here!” Tommy pleaded. He hated begging but if it got him out then he had no shame in doing so. He would do whatever it took to get back home and not face whatever they were going to do to him.

The voice remained quiet.

Tommy shook his head almost in denial.

“What if… What if I need to use the bathroom? I really need to use the bathroom. Like I might pee my pants if I don't use the bathroom right now.”

Tommy almost smiled when he heard keys jingle from the other side of the door. Yes! Yes yes yes! There were a few clicks that came from the door before it was slowly opened.

Now-!

Tommy tried to shove his way out of the door and past the guard. He slipped away for just a moment before fingers encircled his upper arm and jerked him back toward the guard he was running from.

“Let me go-!” Tommy cried again.

“Prime help me if you don’t shut up I will carve your tongue from your mouth. You don’t need a tongue to heal.”

Tommy’s fighting quickly came to a stop. He wasn’t sure if the man was bluffing but he was very convincing if he was. He’s seen what Prostelius and Zephyrs could do and he didn't want that to happen to him.

“Now, I am going to walk you to the meeting room and you will comply. You know what will happen if you don’t. ”

Tommy gulped and nodded.

“Good, come with me.” And they began to walk down an almost clinically white hallway.

There was nothing he could do. All he could do is wait for the syndicate to tell him what they want from him and maybe he could reason from there.

Maybe there was still an out he could take.

—

The meeting room was filled with quiet conversations when Techno walked in. 

He recognized everyone who showed up, there was Nemesis and Lethe. Icarus, Alastor, and a few vigilantes that were allowed to join. 

Phil’s judgment not his. 

Techno was not all that happy with his fathers plans in adding the few vigilantes in L'manburg onto the council. However, the extra eyes have become a great asset and he could begrudgingly agree with Phil that it was a good idea.

Everyone was hovering around a circular table. There were chairs but only a few actually were sitting. 

Techno grimaced when his eyes rested over a familiar person. It seems Alastor decided not to sit in one of their chairs but instead he brought one of his own. He had a fold up chair that you could only find at junk yards or dumps. 

Why does that man do this to us? He even has his muddy boots on the pristine wooden table. The property value man! Think of the property value!

While internally groaning at having to have this meeting so late at night and having it with incompetent people, Techno made his way over to his spot beside the boss. 

Phil was in complete gear like he was for his performance with the heroes. His widebrimmed bucket hat sat on his head and cast a shade over his black plague doctor mask. His robes were close to the floor and overtop was a heart necklace. His wings were in full display and were sagging behind him, almost as tired as the man was.

When he passed Alastor he shoved his feet off the table and walked off. Techno smiled at the scoff he got from the man. Once he stood beside his boss, Phil made eye contact and gave a nod. 

The meeting has started.

Zephyrus coughed into his fist and flapped his wings once to gather everyone's attention. Once everyone's eyes were on him and every conversation was cut off, he spoke up. 

“Hello everyone. It’s good to have all of you in one place again. It’s been too long since we have done this,” Phil began genuinely, his voice warm and comforting despite how it sounded muffled behind his mask.

It had been months since the last meeting. Setting everything up had taken a lot longer than they thought it would. Work that was only supposed to take a month instead took several. It was worth it to be cautionary but it had stalled their movements for far too long.

Techno nodded, despite not agreeing to having such a huge group there. He wasn’t really a people person. It wasn’t as good seeing his team as it was for his father.

“During the last meeting we held we all had come to the agreement that we needed a healer.” Phil put his hands together in front of him almost like it was in prayer and quickly shook it up and then down before letting it fall to his side.

No one argued that they needed a healer. Everyone was fed up with mediocre medical attention and if they could have kidnapped a doctor off the streets for help then they would have done so. A healer didn't need a lot of training and couldn’t hurt them on purpose like a doctor could.

“With further conversation we had come up with a plan to get one by blackmailing a few heroes. We settled on Obelisk and Trance as they are always seen together and had quite a few rumors spreading about what exactly their friendship is”

Techno caught movement in the corner of his eye and saw that Ranboo was fidgeting. He wasn’t comfortable with this line of topic last time and it had resulted in a screaming match between the two of them. After a few months Ranboo had cooled down and opened up to the plan and no longer fought to help them out.

“Roping those two into this went according to plan.”

Hex sat down heavily in his chair. “Keeping a watch on Trance was draining, man. I hated every bit of that. He was all sad and mopey and really pathetic.”

Hex was a smaller man. He was formerly a hero but after seeing all the horrors that laid within that building he went to the syndicate for help. They accepted him with wide arms and now he was one of their biggest insights into what the heroes were doing at all times.

He was a smaller man. He wears a blue moth costume that blends in well during the nighttime. He often goes unnoticed and is very stealthy. That is why he has been able to play both hero and villain for so long.

“What I want to know,” Alastor spoke up. “Is if Lethe over there actually managed those power suppressor thingy majigies.”

Alastor didn’t wear much of a costume.

He wears a theater mask and a beanie to smother his black curls. He wore a white poet shirt with block suspenders that blended into his black pants. His powers were unique but weren't enough for the heroes to sweep him off the streets. How stupid they were.

Scorned smile behind her rose mask, “Yeah. For once I agree with Alastor which is saying something because he’s usually spewing shit.”

Scorned had roses growing all over her and her costume. It was hard to tell if the roses were her own powers into play or just her costume. Brunette curls were tied up into an updo held in place by vines covered in thorns.

“Ouch,” Alastor mumbled.

“Did Lethe actually manage that?”

Techno smiled wide with pride.

Techno was extremely proud of that lank teen. He had really grown since they had saved him. Sure, he’s a little timid and doesn’t like people. Well, neither does Techno. They get along rather well and their relationship has only grown over the years.

Lethe looked over at Phil, questioning if he was allowed to say anything at all.

Phil nodded and spoke up for Lethe. “It took a few trials, yes, but in the end I think they had turned out lovely. Thank you for all the hard work, Lethe.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” He stammered. Nervously wringing his hands together.

Lethe doesn’t have much of a costume because he doesn't really go into the field. His outfit was completely black. Pouches lined a toolbelt around his hips for an on the go tinkering. He wore purple contacts that shined from his costume. He looked like an eldritch horror at night with how tall and lanky he was.

Alastor sat up from his slouched position. “Holy shit. I can’t actually believe this. We really have a way to cancel out people’s powers. T-That’s just…” He let out a short laugh of awe. “That’s just crazy.”

Techno knew that that invention was revolutionary. Such a simple thing could create a lot of chaos and could render a powerful hero into a meek human. It was fascinating and was even more interesting watching hope drain from someone when they couldn’t reach for their powers.

He didn’t like how Alastor stared at Lethe greedily. Lethe was theirs and so were his inventions.

Phil clasped his hands in front of him. “The invention is still in its beginning stages. A lot of stuff needs to be tweaked with it of course. Regular human strength could snap through it and it loses all its power but a quick remedy would be to have more binds on someone.”

“Obelisk served as a great test subject. The cuffs seem to last a long time. Over the course of a week the hero had not once gained access to his powers. He was put under a lot of stress and not once did the cuff lose potency. I will need more time for research but a week with twenty four hours a day is a lot of time,” Lethe ranted.

“Thank you again, Lethe. Those cuffs are wonderful and will be a great asset to us,” Phil praised.

Lethe ducked his head with embarrassment.

“Shiiit,” Hex whistled. “Obelisk wasn’t that bad of a guy to be truthful. Kind of wish it was Trance who was tortured.”

“Obelisk doesn’t have a spine,” Techno drawled.

The hero was clearly the weaker of the two. He caved instantly and in only a day Techno knew everything the hero knew. That was when he sent Hex out to spy on Trance, just to be sure the man wouldn’t grow balls.

He didn’t. He loved Obelisk so much that he would rather sacrifice someone to hold him in his arms again. It was pathetic to see a onesided love.

“I definitely agree with that. He was always hiding behind Trance so he wouldn’t get his hands dirty. Neat set of powers though,” Hex said.

“Oh come on, they were pathetic heroes. Don’t try to worship the ground that they stand on!” Nemesis angrily called out.

Her pink hair stood out from her black spandex outfit. Her mask was curved just to cover her eyes and with black eye contacts it looked like she was staring into your soul.

“I am not worshipping the ground they walk on! Unlike you, I won’t speak ill of the dead!”

“I-”

Phil slammed the table with his fist. “Nemesis. Hex. Do not say one more word.”

Techno watched with satisfaction when the two villains settled down uneasily. Niki’s fingers twitched angrily on the arms of the chair and Hex just simply crossed his arms. Both of their lips were sealed. They weren’t about to be the ones that bring Phil’s ire upon them.

“Arguing is not what we’re here for. In fact, I wanted to give you all the good news. The mission was a success!” Phil excitedly said, his wings puffing up behind him.

Techno could almost imagine Phil’s bright smile. With how large it was it would crinkle his eyes creating sharp crows feet.

“Seriously?” Icarus spoke up for the first time that night..

Techno glared at his brother. Wilbur tried so hard to be out of the way and fight being a family so much so that he often ignored meetings and would disappear into the city to avoid doing his duty.

The only reason he was here that night was one of the conditions for him picking up that cafe job. Like he even needed the money, anyway.

Techno just couldn’t get how Wilbur tried to stray away from everything over and over again. Was he not proud of his family? Did he not love them? Did he not want the same government that hurt him to fall?

Techno was unsure of what puzzle he was putting together. Icarus and him used to be inseparable until he started distancing himself. He asked to take a break to put his thoughts back in order but Techno couldn't fight the feeling that he was trying to leave him.

He was selfish, obviously Icarus didn't really want to be here in the beginning. Techno still kept him here, telling him that this place was better than the nightmares that were outside those walls. No matter how much blood Wilbur had spilt or how many screams he heard. Techno still selfishly stands by it.

The puzzle Wilbur is piecing together is new. Something that came from the outside that Techno wanted to smother. But Techno couldn't, he was supposed to be better than the monsters out there. Phil told him that Wilbur needed the break. Techno has to let it happen, whether he likes it or not.

Techno didn’t want to admit that his brother was already starting to look better.

Apollyon gasped and his hand flew up to his mouth.

After his injury and the amputation of his arm, the villain had lost a lot of his fight. It was good to see him out of bed and in costume rather than moping around the halls in a state of depression few were able to call him out of.

Happy whispers filled the hall as everyone was excited to finally have a healer again after so long.

“The mission was successfully completed-” 

Phil was cut off by Alastor who slammed his hands down on the table in excitement. The goddamned property value Alastor! “Does that mean we finally got a healer? Its been fucking years since the last one. After all, she was still a fucking piece of shit, never healing right out of spite-”

“We do not speak ill of the dead Alastor.” 

The shocked and fearful look on Alastor’s almost made Techno laugh out loud. It was funny to see the man so powerless. It was rare to see that look on his face, it was priceless. What Techno would pay to see it again.

Phil, with all of his screwed morals, still tried to keep some resemblance of niceties. 

Phil shoulders the title of villain so that he may continue to do good work. Techno eagerly followed and took the title so that he may help his father. Even with that title, they tried to keep most of the shadows out of their head. That starts with having some sort of code to keep true to when all else fails.

“Trance had brought a healer to us for an exchange. He seemed very powerful. He was able to heal severe nerve damage pretty quickly and there seemed to be no immediate drawbacks. However, he was not given to us willingly.”

“Who would come here willingly,” Wilbur joked.

Techno, nor anyone in the room, found it funny.

“There will have to be an adjustment period much like with the last one. Healers are fragile, we know this from experience. Who knows when we will be able to get another one if we push this healer too hard or too fast.”

“Where is he, then? I want to meet him,” Apollyon murmured.

“He should already be here,” Techno drawled.

There was a sudden loud slam of the doors, everyone turned quickly to where the sound came from. Some who were sitting quickly stood up and others shifted their stances into one that's more guarded. Upon looking at the door, Techno could see a silhouette of a boy and the goon he had sent to watch him.

“Oh god,” the healer whispered fearfully.

Chapter Text

The halls twisted and turned, making Tommy feel lost almost immediately as he was pulled away from the hallway that held the door he came from. There was no turning back if he somehow broke away from the tight grasp making him walk forward.

His shoes thumped ominously against the wooden floors that line these halls. The walls were all white, it looked like a fucking laboratory. Maybe he was in a laboratory and his earlier statements were extremely wrong. 

That would fucking suck ass.

Except Tommy knew what a laboratory looked like and this place was not sterile enough to be one. These people just had terrible taste.

Every hallway was the same, as if each hall was copy and pasted in a dizzying maze like pattern. There were very few decorations on the walls. A landscape painting here, an animal plaque here, a stupid head statue of some important man sitting on a tiny table here. It feels like Tommy just walked into a rich mansion with no windows. A rich mansion laboratory, he corrected.

“So….” Tommy began out of boredom.

“Where exactly are you taking me?”

“Do you have to talk?” The grip around his arm tightened in agitation.

“No…” Tommy said slowly.

The man dragging him to who knows where was very normal looking. His face was wide open, not a mask in sight. There was a chance that this could be a villain without a costume and Tommy wouldn't know it.

His hair was dark but not curly. His eyes were blue but dull. He had sleeves of tattoos and random ones dotted everywhere. Tommy tried comparing the villain's few features and compared it to the man that was forcefully dragging him somewhere and couldn't come up with anything.

“You are taking me somewhere. If you're feeling comfortable, which I want you to be, I wouldn't want anyone to be uncomfortable, uh. Where might you be taking me?”

The man looked at Tommy blankly.

“Will you shut up if I tell you?”

“Yes!” Tommy nods enthusiastically.

No. Probably not.

“You are going to the meeting room. I'll dump you there and the Syndicate will decide what to do with you. Personally, I hope they rip out your tongue. You are extremely annoying.” The man growled the last sentence out.

Okay, he poked one nerve too many. Shutting up now.

They neared a fork in the road. One straight ahead, or one to the right. Tommy stared down the hall in front of him and saw nothing out of the normal. How was this man leading him through this place so easily? There was no clear marking anywhere and Tommy felt like he didn't know what was up and what was down.

After a few more minutes of walking down the hallway the man chose, did they come across something different from everything else in this place. A huge fucking expensive wooden door that screams ‘rich’ to him.

That door has to lead to something important. 

The wood was spruce, a very expensive building material here in L’manburg. Unless they aren't in L’manburg at the moment. That… was not a thought Tommy wanted to think about.

There was faint noise coming from the room. Tommy could hear nondistinctive voices but couldn’t hear anything being said or who even was talking in the first place.

The guard dragged him closer to the giant doors. One hand hesitantly lifted and formed a fist that hovered a bit away from the doors. Tommy eyes the guard closely. There was a trace of fear on his face that did not bode well for the pit in his own stomach.

If this guard was scared to knock the doors and enter the room he was told to enter then what did that say about the Syndicate?

The man knocked loudly three distinct times.

The quiet murmuring on the other side completely ceased. The guard decided that was permission enough and shakily opened the doors and shoved Tommy inside, abandoning him in a room full of supervillains.

The doors slammed loudly behind Tommy, causing him to flinch. Oh… he just made a huge mistake not fighting the guard and making a run for it even if it might have been the last time. Oh fucking god, can Tommy just catch a break? Just one day, just one goddamn day!

There was a large table in front of him. And who was -currently not sitting- at the table were the exact people Tommy prayed to never have to meet a day in his life. The entire group of Syndicate was right in front of Tommy who didn't even have a pocketknife to defend himself.

Every villain -and apparently vigilantes?- had their full attention on him. 

“Oh god,” Tommy whispered fearfully.

There was Zephyrs, who were obviously at the head of the table. Tommy stared at the large black wings behind the man that was not there before. The large wings were bigger than Zephyrs himself. The shadows the light cast only made the wings and the plague mask more ominous.

The man to his right was Protesilaus, because of course he was to the leader's right. 

His outfit was still drenched in blood from the apartment complex. Splatters were all over the boar skull he wore and traveled into his pink hair that laid in long tangled strands. The man looked deranged and Tommy wasn’t even sure if he was human. Watching the weapon form from the blood of a fallen man to kill another sent shivers down his spine.

To Zephyrs’ left stood Icarus.

Tommy didn’t know anything about the poltergeist. Unlike Protesilaus, he was not often on the news and wasn’t as talked about like the others. His methods weren’t skewing people with their own blood or using sharp talons to gut someone. His methods were usually a lot more… explosive.

Tommy recognized Nemesis immediately. She used to be a hero, a long long time ago. She left the order and joined the Syndicate. She was ruthless in her mission for revenge. Tommy couldn’t look at her for long, he had admired her then and does not fault her now.

The person beside Nemesis was a well known vigilante. Not as well known or wanted as Nuke was, but they were high on the wanted vigilante list. Tommy knew them as Rose, but most call her Scorned after her partner betrayed her and tried to turn her in for a hefty sum of money.

Tommy didn't know she was working for the syndicate. No one knew.

Then there was Alastor. He isn't a vigilante as far as Tommy knows, and he doesn't know much. If Tommy could recall, he remembers a casino heist that was performed by Alastor. That was the first and last time he was seen on the news. He had thought Alastor was sent to prison, but apparently not. 

A man next to Alastor sent chills down Tommy’s spine.

He remembers this man having his arm chopped off on live television. How Apollyon begged the Warden to not kill him. His life was only spared when Protesilaus showed up and managed to save the poor man. Everyone thought that the villain was dead because he hadn't been seen or heard of in months.

Tommy eyes the stub where Apollyon’s arm had once been. A hero had cleanly severed it to get the villain to talk and left the man to die when he couldn’t get anything from him. What a horrible fate.

There was a villain that Tommy had never seen before. He was taller than everyone else in there. His entire outfit was pitch black. His eyes were glowing purple and were as unnerving as the rest of him.

Beside Scorned was a man Tommy very much recognized. Hex. Sneeg.

Hex was a hero that Tommy had seen many times in passing but had never talked to.

The Syndicate had a hero in their very own ranks. Or was it the other way around? Did the heroes have a villain in their ranks and not even know it? Oh no.

The more Tommy looked around and was connecting the dots the more Tommy realized he was learning way too much. There was no way they were letting him out now. He was learning their secrets. Secrets they would likely kill to keep. He felt trapped more than ever. He can't claim that he doesn't know anything because he does! This was too much. That was way too much.

Tommy continues to stare at the villains, who match his gaze. It was kind of intimidating, having nine extremely dangerous people staring at him. That was until he heard a frustrated groan from one of the members there.

“Uhm, this is kinda awkward…”

Tommy laughed awkwardly at the groan, now people were staring at him with annoyance. It… was better to leave before they get out of their weird staring contest. Tommy rubbed the back of his neck and pulled at a few baby hairs before pointing behind himself towards the door. “I see I'm not wanted here so I'm just gonna quit while I'm ahead.”

Tommy turned quickly in an attempt to flee the room before anything bad happened to him. The doors didn't budge no matter how hard he pushed at them. Large loud footsteps grew closer to Tommy and his struggle with the door renewed with vigor.

“No, no no-”

Hands grab at him and turn him back around towards the villains. Tommy tries to wiggle out of the strong grasped hands. Tommy looked down and saw gloves stained with blood and just knew if he peaked behind himself he would see Protesilaus.

Tommy stopped struggling immediately when an arm circled his throat and threatened to choke him out.

The room was far too quiet. If there was one thing Tommy couldn't really stand, was having a room completely silent. It grated against his ears, he was desperate for any type of noise. Be that yelling, or them whispering to each other.

Zephyrs raised his fist to his mouth and coughed, gathering everyone's attention. He walked up to Tommy and looked into his eyes. 

The villain laughed quietly to himself. Tommy could almost imagine the cruel smile underneath the plague mask. Zephyrs turned towards the other members and spoke, “This is the healer we were previously talking about.”

Alastor sat up quickly from his lounged position and whistled. “Holy shit, that’s the healer? He’s so young.”

“Oh god,” Hex whispered in worry.

“Now, I believe,” Zephyrs began. “It would be a good time for you to tell everything there is to know about yourself.”

Tommy exhales, “Why should I tell you anything? I don't even know who you are. All I know is that I've been kidnapped and taken off to some facility or underground base.”

Tommy swallowed hard against the arm currently pressing against his windpipe. He struggled to talk but fear and anger had a way of motivating him to be as uncooperative and spiteful as he could. “I don't even know why I'm here. Why am I here? You still have failed to mention that-”

“We are asking the questions, not you ,” Protesilaus growled into his ear.

Tommy quickly shut his mouth and stared ahead. None of the other people in the room, not even the ex-heroes, seemed to react to the threat Protesilaus gave him. None of them seem to really care other than their astonishment that he was a healer.

“What’s your name, mate?” Zephyrs asked.

Tommy worried his lip between his teeth. He really didn’t want to tell them anything about himself. He didn't want them to have anything to use against him. But Tommy knew he had to do it anyway. These were not kind people and could do horrible thing to him if he didn’t give them satisfactory answers.

“Tommy,” he gasped. “My name is Tommy.”

“Tommy,” Zephyrs took a step back from him.

“And Tommy, if I were to have a guess you didn’t go with Trance willingly, correct?”

Tommy glared at him. It was so very obvious that he didn’t go with Trance willingly or with them willingly. He was kidnapped off of the streets and the Syndicate had taken him off of Trance’s still warm corpse.

“Yes, you’d be right,” He barely avoided hissing.

“That’s a fucking kid,” Scorned spoke up.

“Has anyone noticed that Trance had pulled an unwilling child from their ivory tower and traded him for Obelisk’s life? What the fuck was wrong with that man?” Scorned’s face was twisted up into a snarl as she ridiculed Trance and his choices.

“Trance was always a fucked up guy. I’m not surprised he would kidnap a young healer straight from their laboratory. He never cared much for being a hero other than the fame that came with it.” Hex leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on his knees. He stated everything so matter of factly like he knew the man personally and was just stating facts rather than the bashing everyone else was doing.

Icarus sighed and leaned back in his chair like the arguing was beneath him and he just wanted to leave.

Zephyrs looked him up and down, he was looking for something. What he was looking for Tommy hadn't even the slightest idea.

“Heroes have no morals. They will do anything for their gain even if they have to put children in the line of fire.” Zephyrs claimed with violence on his tongue.

“Do we need any more reason to hate the heroes?” Nemesis spat.

“I did not ask before but do you have any injuries?” Zephyrs took hold of Tommy’s face and turned it slowly to one side then slowly in the other direction.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said blankly.

He did hurt. There were quite a few bumps and scrapes all over his body and that wasn’t even including the concussion he surely has from the amount of times someone has knocked him out by slamming his head. Though those hurts were quickly leaving him and never even required medical attention.

“Hmm…” He didn't sound convinced.

“Well I am glad that that hero didn't hurt you in his haste. I am, however, sorry that you had to see their deaths. I know how violence can harm a healer's health so I hope you know it was necessary for us to do that.”

Zephyrs brushed back Tommy’s unruly hair almost in a caring way. Tommy could feel his talons snagging at the tangles in his hair and lightly scraping and poking at his sore scalp.

“How is it necessary to kill people?” Tommy puffed up in anger.

Zephyrs took a step back with obvious reluctance. “Tell me, what do you think would happen if I had let those two heroes go, mmm?”

Tommy looked around with wide unblinking eyes. There wasn’t a right answer to his question, there wasn’t supposed to be. All the people in the room were watching intently waiting for his answer to their leader's unreasonable question.

“They… would have returned back to the hero tower,” Tommy reluctantly said. He didn't want to say something that would anger them.

“And? What do you think they would do when they got there? Stay silent?”

Tommy knew the answer. There was no world where anyone wouldn’t question the state Obelisk was in. His clothes were ruined by his own blood. Tommy only healed the serious wounds that threatened to kill him, not all the other ones he sustained. They needed to be checked by medical professions, it was not something that a tiny first aid kit could cover up.

That type of injury would need to be questioned. When Obelisk had been quiet for so long, who had done this? What villain had tortured this man and what for? That was a blood trail. Each drop led up to the Syndicate and them acquiring a healer.

The look on Tommy's face gave Zephyrs all the answers he needed.

“I am regretful that two young heroes had to die but I will not be sorry for what I gained in having done so. A healer is far more valuable to us than the lives of those two men.”

Zephyrs backed away from Tommy in a short few strides.

Icarus stood up causing his chair to squeal when it scraped along the floor. His strides were steady and sure as he approached Tommy and his leader.

Tommy never did learn much about Icarus. He wasn't a villain that showed his face as much as the others did. There were a lot of theories about him, especially conspiracy theories. He often used explosives or flashy things when he did come into the spotlight. It left people wondering.

It was during that string of explosions that made hate simmer in Tommy's heart for him.

“I can definitely agree with that…” Icarus trailed off.

His mask concealed most of his face but Tommy knew what it felt like to be judged. He had been judged his entire life and no one gets used to the feeling that attentive eyes makes them feel.

“He's a scrawny thing isn't he? There's really nothing special looking about him. I thought healers were supposed to look… I don't know, brighter? The last guy practically shined.’

Tommy grimaced.

“I've seen what he can do. He's not some weak healer,” Zephyrs assured 

“I guess we’ll have to see about that won’t we,” Icarus mused.

His head snapped up a bit before lowering slowly, making eye contact through the holes in his mask. “You know what, I just had the greatest idea.”

Icarus looks over at Hex, head titled almost in a smug like manner. “Hex, come over here, would you?”

Hex stood up from his chair hesitantly. He circled the wide table almost casually but his footsteps were a bit too quick to be laidback. He stopped only a few steps away from Tommy but stood shoulder to shoulder by Icarus.

Too fast for Tommy’s eyes to even widen, Icarus gripped ex’s wrist with one hand and flashed a small pocket knife in the other. Hex pulled back but the shock made him move slowly and he could not avoid the blade that ran across his palm, slicing through the glove and the skin.

“What the fuck?!” Hex shouted. 

“Oh my god,” Lethe muttered.

“Huh,” Alastor mumbled, a little shocked at what was happening.

Nemesis flew from her chair at the sight.

The others remained seated, only barely.

Zephyrs clicked his tongue in reprimand but made no movements to do anything to stop what was happening. The arm around his neck squeezed for a moment before relaxing.

He yanked his hand away again and this time Icarus had let him go. With a hiss Hex poked the skin around the cut and tried to assess the damage. When he was done he cradled his hand to his chest.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Hex demanded.

“Chill, Hex. I just want to make sure the goods aren't damaged.”

“By testing that out on me?” Hex's voice went shrill near the end of his sentence.

“Better you than me,” Icarus shrugged.

“Tommy,” Icarus grabbed his attention. A flash of anger filled Tommy just about as fast as it left him.

“Would you mind healing Hex?” Icarus said sweetly.

Tommy would rather choke and die. Not because he didn't like Hex but because Icarus had told him to.

Prostiliaus loosened his chokehold and slowly released Tommy from his grip. Tommy knew better than to try and run or even put a bit of distance between the two of them. He stood in place before a hand on his shoulder guided him to the bleeding wound.

Zephyrs waved Tommy forward.

With each step Tommy could feel his powers zeroing in on the bloody injury. It felt like he was trapped within a black hole with no real intent to escape. The sight of blood and the slight copper smell lured him in until he was practically eye to eye with it.

Tommy looked up at Hex trying to gauge if this man would have an outward reaction. Hex only stared back. Hex, despite being dragged unwillingly into this mess, was too fascinated to try to pull himself away from it anymore.

His right palm went underneath Hex’s hand and the other hand hovered over the cut before clamping down on it.

Hex hissed in pain then his eyes widened as he registered the feeling of Tommy stitching his skin back together. The hand almost became unbearably warm as it sewed new skin together to bring the cut to a close. It was a smaller cut, even if it was deep. It didn't take much power or energy for Tommy to already be done healing it. Once he was done he ripped his hands away and took a step back.

Blood still stained the glove. Hex curiously poked at the freshly healed wound in awe. It would be a little sensitive but everything went perfectly, as it should.

“Holy shit, it's healed!” Hex exclaimed. He turned to show Icarus then the entire council.

Icarus grabbed Hex’s hand again and stared at where the injury should have been. He turned it over and even wiped away a good bit of the blood but found no flaws with the healing. He wouldn’t ever find flaws.

“Now Icarus, you didn't have to go through such measures to have your questions answered,” Zephyrs scolded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Icarus said flippantly.

Zephyrs looked around for a moment before placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Its been a long day, hasn't? I think we should get you set up for the night and continue any further conversations tomorrow.” Zephyrs dipped his head.

Zephyrs turned his attention to the members in his council. He clapped his hands together to gather everyone's attention.

“Meeting is dismissed for the night. Thank you all for coming. While this is an event for us to celebrate I will be requiring you guys to be on your best behavior for the following week or so. Celebrate however you like to but make sure you keep your heads on straight. You’re dismissed.”

The members of the Syndicate filed out slowly and one by one. Hex was one of the first to go, he seemed like he needed to do something urgently and moved quickly. Alastor left slowly, eyeing him as he walked by and Tommy has never felt more like a fish in a fishbowl than in that moment in a very long time.

Then they were left with himself, Zephyrs, Prosteliaus, Icarus, and Lethe.

“Alright then,” Zephyrs nodded to himself.

“You will be needing a change of clothes, those ones are absolutely filthy. And some toiletries too. Oh, and some food. It's been hours, mate, you must be starving by now.”

“I don't want anything from you,” Tommy glowered.

His words seemed to have his desired effect as Zephyrs seemed to tense up, angry at what he said.

“You are living here, under my roof. I am trying to be as hospitable as I can but if you don’t want any of it, fine,” his voice was angry.

“I can just lock you up in the infirmary and be done with you.”

Tommy stilled, his heart beating out of his chest.

He didn't want that. That's the last thing he could have ever wanted. He remembers infirmaries, despises the clinical feel of everything. The chill that seeped deep into bones and never loosened its grip. He didn't want that. Didn't want anything to do with that.

But he also didn't want to give in.

“I’m sure he didn't mean it,” Lethe piped up. “He’s probably as tired and drained as we all are and I can't blame him for being cranky. I can go grab him some spare clothes and all of that stuff and we can just place him back in that room again.”

Zephyrs stared at the lanky boy for a lengthy amount of time before relenting and letting the villain go.

“Make sure to grab some extra bedding!” Zephyrs called after him.

“If Lethe can go does that mean I can head off too?” Icarus asked as he pointed at the exit.

Zephyrs waved the villain off.

“Now Tommy, let me lead you to your room.”

His hand moved from the top of his shoulder down to circle his bicep, a warning and a comfort wrapped all into one.

Tommy didn't really know what to do. He should fight. He should fight with everything he had so he could at least say he tried and that war with his heart and mind might be silenced. He also doesn't want to find out what punishment is like if he doesn't listen to these villains. Zephyrs had already threatened Tommy by locking him up in a cold infirmary just because he snapped at him. What would they do if he tried to fight back?

The rooms and hallways passed by in a blur just like they had when he was taken to the meeting room.

There wasn’t really anything familiar whenever his head was up and paying attention. The doors were doors and the walls were walls. Nothing really stood out and Tommy even bothered to pick he wasn't even bothering to try and make connections.

Protesilaus prowled behind him. His boots were heavy and smashed into the floor as they walked. His piercing glare set Tommy’s teeth on edge.

Zephyrs finally slowed down from his brisk walk that ended up dragging Tommy behind him. The door in front of them had multiple outside locks. As Tommy looked over the door he finally connected the dots between the room he was in earlier and the locked door in front of him.

“This room?” Tommy questioned?

“For now, at least. If this doesn't suit your tastes then we can manage something different a little bit down the road,” Zephyrs soothed.

He will?

Protesilaus stepped forward and opened the door. Tommy tried to memorize the type of locks on his door before he was guided inside. Never know when he might need to know how to get through them.

Tommy entered the room he was in only a little while ago. The sheets on the bed was messed up from where he had frantically crawled out from it in a panic. The rest of the room was untouched from the time Tommy had woken up.

“Alright,” Zephyrs clapped his hands together.

“This room needs more cleaning than I had thought it would.”

And he was right. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room. The only places touched was the path from the door to the bed and from Tommy’s frantic search through the room.

This room had been lived in once. The ghost of someone was still there. It was in the few decorations that lined the shelves and the knick knacks in the drawers. It was in the paintings and pictures that filled up the walls and the twinkle lights that are crisscrossed on the ceiling.

Tommy didn't feel comfortable here. For whatever reason the room was cold and the somber feeling leeched onto him. He didn't want to stay the night here let alone for the foreseeable future.

“I do think its livable for tonight. I can send someone to clean it up tomorrow. Maybe while I take you on tour…” Zephyrs pondered.

“You're not going to just leave me here? Tommy asked.

“No!” Zephyrs exclaimed, almost offended.

That sounded extremely genuine. It was like he was offended that Tommy would think of him as a horrible person. Like he hasn't killed hundreds of people and tortured men just to get his hands on him.

“Leaving you in here is bad for your health and we need you as healthy as you can be!”

Oh. That makes a lot more sense.

They're only being kind to him to keep him on his side. Any hints of rebellion he has shown so far was met with threats of violence. Kindness was a mask and Tommy wasn't sure he wanted to see what was behind it.

“Is there anything you want that would make living more comfortable?”

“Being let go?” Tommy suggested already knowing the answer.

“Besides that,” Zephyrs replied with little mirth.

Tommy took a good look around. He was never one for decorations, not anymore. The stuff that hung on his walls in his cold bedroom was stuff he had hung up when he was younger, happier.

The posters were of a time where he had idolized heroes. Their flashy costumes and the footage of them helping other endeared kid Tommy to them. He never bothered to tear them down no matter how much he has wanted to in the past few years.

In a corner of his room was where he had thrown all of childhood toys that he couldn't bear to get rid of. It was in a tiny bin but it was so dusty that it had caked on and probably destroyed most of what was in there 

The stars on his ceiling were from when his family was the happiest. He doesn't remember where his dad had put the ladder.

There was nothing Zephyrs could do to make Tommy feel more at home in a pretty prison cell.

“I think I'll stick with the clothes and toiletries stuff.”

Zephyrs nodded like he made all the sense in the world.

Any conversation dissolved when Tommy refused to talk and Zephyrs didn't seem to want to talk to himself the entire time. Prosteliaus had made himself cozy leaning on the wall looking every bit like he didn't want to be there.

The door to the room was left open, like an offer Tommy knew he shouldn't take. Tommy was eyeing it and noticed when Lethe appeared and knocked on the door signaling his arrival.

Lethe walked in and looked around cautiously like he was weirded out by being allowed in there.

“Okay, Tommy, I uh- brought you some pajamas and an extra set of clothes for tomorrow. I wasn't really sure what your size was but we're pretty close; they might just be too long.”

Tommy took the pajamas from Lethe and looked at the villains. He really wanted to get out of his dirty clothes but he would rather sit in someone else's blood than change in front of them.

Lethe looked at the dresser and shifted all of the things he was holding into one arm. He used the other to sweep off as much dust off of the surface. Lethe sat the rest of the stuff he had down on the dresser. There were a few sheets and another pair of clothes in the pile he was making. There were also a few bottles in the mix.

“Is there a bathroom I can change in or…”

Zephyrs pointed to a door in the corner. Tommy made his way over there and as he was opening the door he was stopped.

“Before you take a shower I want to go over something with you.” Zephyrs trailed his hand through the heavy dust on the dresser.

“You'll be in this room all through the night. The door will be locked and if you try to get out, we will know. And I will not be as lenient as I have been all day.”

Tommy nodded. He knew the door would be too difficult to get through.

“I'll have Lethe help settle you in for tonight. He will also be the one retrieving you in the morning.”

Zephyrs walked to the door and was followed by Prosteliaus. The boar masked villain peeked though the closing door.

“Good night Olethros.”

Then the door was slammed shut leaving Lethe and him together.

“Well… that was weird,” Tommy muttered.

“Don't let him get to you. He just likes it when people are scared of him,” Lethe reassured.

“Oh I'm sure,” Tommy agreed.

They trailed off to silence.

“Well I’m going to…” Tommy pointed at the bathroom behind him.

“Oh! Wait, I also grabbed you a few shower supplies.” Lethe grabbed a few soap bottles from the pile he created and handed it over to Tommy who took them gratefully.

Tommy walked into the bathroom and found it was just as dusty as everything else was. It was very small, barely containing a sink, a toilet and a shower. If he laid down he would probably be able to touch both sides of the room.

He was never used to luxury before and wasn't going to start now.

Tommy wiped some of the dust off of the sink counter to lay his clothes on. He looked over to the shower and set down the bottles of soap on the shower caddy hanging from the shower head. He managed to peel off the blood crusted clothes and bundled them up, throwing them into the shower.

Turning the water on, Tommy played with the controls for a few moments before getting it to the temperature he liked and stepped in.

He was absolutely filthy from the full shift he worked to the kidnapping and to the amount of blood he was having to scrape off of himself and his original set of clothes. The blood ran from his body and tainted the water underneath him. He scrubbed until the water ran clear and scrubbed some more just in case.

After the shower was done and he had dried off Tommy found himself staring into the mirror.

He looked so completely exhausted but when was the last time he felt rested?

The wounds he had were all healed now. Not a single scratch or bruise was showing anywhere from what he could tell. Tommy poked the back of his head and couldn't find any tender spots that had formed his concussion.

The borrowed clothes he was wearing were swallowing him up. He had to roll both the sleeves and pants up several times to get them in a good position where he would trip or knock anything over.

What was he getting himself into?

He was stuck in here and there wasn't anything he could do to get out. 

Tommy sighed and left the bathroom.

Opening up the door he noticed Lethe stripping sheets off of the bed.

“Why are you still here…?” Tommy trailed off confused as to why Lethe wasn’t leaving.

Lethe clasped his hands together in front of himself and started to twiddle his thumbs nervously. Tommy never thought he would see the day where a villain was nervous but he never thought a lot of things until he was kidnapped.

“Sorry, just Ph- Zephyrs wanted me to stay and make sure you get settled in.”

“Okay?”

Tommy eyed the mess on the floor where Lethe had torn off the sheet and was just laying them on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing the sheets? They were nasty and shouldn't be slept on. I don't know why they didn't clean this room before getting you. They thought of everything besides the actual you living here and being an actual human being that needs things!”

“Okay-Okay! But why are you doing it?” Tommy questioned.

Lethe began to crumple up a blanket in his hands.

Tommy plopped down on the clean bed, tired but weary of falling asleep.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Tommy asked earnestly. His voice was quiet.

“Do I have any reason to be mean to you?” Lethe came to sit beside him on the bed. His tall frame towered him but when he bent down, they were almost the same height.

“Yes! No!” Tommy waved his arms frustrated. “I don't fucking know!’

“Tommy…”

“I don't even know who you are!” Tommy screeched.

Tommy sprung up from the bed and started to pace the room.

“I don't know anything about any of you!” Tommy stressed.

“All I know is that all of you are villains who have killed hundreds of people in horrible ways!” Tommy pivoted on his heel to face Lethe.

“Tommy…”

“You guys have blackmailed a hero by torturing his best friend to kidnap some random healer because you couldn't what-? Find a doctor you could put on your payroll?” Tommy’s fingers brushed through his hair and when that wasn't enough, he began to pull on the strands.

“Tommy-”

“You guys have kidnapped me and forced me to watch as you killed both of those heroes. The threatened me when I have any sort of reaction or mention how fucked up all of this is!”

“Tommy.”

“Stop saying my name!” Tommy shouted then pointed an accusing finger at Lethe. “You don't see me as anything more than a fucking- a fucking machine that can kiss all of your boo-boos better. You don't even see me as a fucking human being!”

Tommy couldn't stop the tears from pouring out of his eyes this time. His hand came to hide his face from the world as he sobbed.

He just- He just doesn't want to go through all of this again. He can't! He won't make it this time.

A hand came to gently circle around his wrist. Tommy slapped it away almost immediately.

“Don't- fucking touch- me-!” He screamed through his sobs.

“Tommy, please look at me. Please .”

“No-” Tommy covered his face again.

“Please.”

And it was that pleading tone that chipped away at Tommy’s heart. Lethe was desperate for Tommy to look at him. He was desperate for Tommy to listen to him and so far, Lethe has been nothing but nice to him.

Tommy pulled his hands away from his face and crossed them across his chest in a makeshift hug.

“I understand that this is crazy. All of it is! I had no idea they were going to kidnap you. If I had I would have protested a lot sooner. You are not alone here Tommy. I’m here. I will do whatever I can to help you get through this, okay?”

“Why?” Tommy frowned.

“Because you’re my friend and I'm not going to let you think that you're alone.”

Lethe grabbed the edge of his mask and slowly lifted it away from his face. It was pulled up over his head exposing more locks of his brown hair and his face.

“Ranboo?”