Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sitting at the dining table, across from his adopted father sipping some tomato soup, Tubbo wondered if it was best to bring up his supposedly dead best friend before the main course or later on, during coffee. His foot tapped impatiently as he pondered over this, dipping his spoon into his own bowl of soup. He hardly had an appetite, not after finding further evidence proving Tommy was alive. The details and full story were lost on the young man, but he didn’t need the whole picture just yet.

All he needed to know was that he was alive.

“You gonna just stare at your food all night or are you going to eat it?” Tubbo looked up at his guardian, who fixed him with an indifferent stare.

“Not very hungry,” he answered as he averted his eyes. It was difficult to tell what exactly would piss Schlatt off, but something in the man’s tone warned Tubbo that he may not be in the best of moods.

Sure enough, the man scoffed at him. “Of course you aren’t hungry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat anything more than a few crusts of bread. At this rate, you’ll waste away and make me look like a terrible guardian.” A pause rested between the two. And then the man slammed his fist down on the table, earning a jump from Tubbo.

“Is that what you want then, boy?” Schlatt yelled. “You’re trying to make me look bad in front of the whole town?”

“No, sir,” Tubbo managed to keep his voice even.

“Then why do you insist on starving yourself?”

“I’m not hungry. Sir.” He kept forgetting the title at the end. Thankfully, Schlatt didn’t seem to notice his slip up in favor of the current confrontation.

The man exhaled out of his nose, grabbing his glass of whiskey and taking a long sip. A tense silence followed soon after. In a vain attempt to ease the man's anger, Tubbo managed a spoonful of soup. It was delicious, but it settled like cement in the boy’s stomach. He was far too anxious to enjoy the meal, and they hadn’t even made it to the main course yet.

“It’s about that boy, isn’t it?” Schlatt spoke up. Tubbo froze up in the upholstered dining chair, the silver spoon in his hand gripped too tightly. The man must have noticed as he heaved out an annoyed sigh. “Look, kid, I thought we’ve been over this a hundred times already. The undertaker said he had been dead for hours by the time they found him. You were there, you saw his body. Stiff as a board. I know you’re going through, like, denial or whatever kind of bullshit, but I’m starting to get real sick and tired of these delusions.” And how could Tubbo not be offended?

“Sir, I have evidence this time!” Tubbo said, straightening up a fraction. “This isn’t another conspiracy theory, sir, I promise. I reckon I’m actually on to something this time around.”

“Enough!” Schlatt banged another fist down onto the table. The force rattled the plates and spilled droplets of both of their soups on the fancy lace tablecloth. “There is grief, and then there is insanity. Tommy is dead. He died nearly a month ago. The sooner you come to accept these facts, the sooner you can get over it all.”

“It just doesn’t make sense to me.” Tubbo knew he was speaking out of turn at this point. Schlatt had knocked him to the floor for far less in the past, but the boy was past a place of caring. “He never goes to that side of town, especially not by himself. Why would he have been in that alleyway to begin with? What was his real cause of death? None of it was clear to me, until I launched my own investigation of the murder.”

“Murder?! Oh, for God's sake, Tubbo.”

“Yes!” Tubbo stood up now, fire coursing through his veins. “Tommy was murdered in that part of town not long after there was talk of monsters haunting the underbelly of the city.” Schlatt blanched across the table from him, but he pressed on. “He was pale when they found him and there was no determinable cause of death past puncture wounds on his wrist. He had been found late morning, meaning he had been killed at night. And when I went to place flowers on his grave this morning, the dirt had been disturbed! Can’t you see? Tommy wasn’t just murdered. Tommy was taken-”

He really should have connected the dots when Schlatt had stood from the table, but it wasn’t until the smack rang out through the room that he realized he fucked up. The blow was strong enough to send him tumbling out of his chair, knocking his head against the table as he went. His head spun as he laid upon the ground and he looked up at Schlatt. The man was livid, nostrils flared and teeth gritted.

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” the man spat. Tubbo wilted back as his guardian advanced. “If anyone in this town had heard the little tirade you went on they would have you institutionalized before the sun set tonight! Do you not hear yourself, boy? Monsters?! I know you weren’t the brightest around the block, but you are stark raving mad!” The man pulled his hand back.

Tubbo braced himself for another strike, hands held out in front of him. When no impact followed, he opened his eyes a peek and looked back up at the man standing over him. Schlatt’s glassy eyes met his own, looking equal parts indecisive and irritated. They spent a moment just looking at each other, daring the other to make a sudden movement, before Schlatt broke the silence with another telltale sigh.

“They didn’t warn me enough about you,” he said as he returned to his seat. “Those bitches at the orphanage didn’t mention anything about how batshit bonkers you are. Always got some sort of conspiracy theory or little mystery floating around in that tiny, tiny brain of yours, don’t ya?”

“This...I’m certain this time...”

“SHUT IT!” A wine glass sailed over the table and crashed against the hardwood floor, narrowly missing Tubbo. The boy got the message and kept his mouth shut. “And get back in your seat. We’re finishing this meal like a real family and then you’re going straight to your room.” Tubbo didn’t want to piss the man off further and quickly reclaimed his seat, head hung low. Another god awful silence, one of many since he moved into Schlatt’s estate, hung above the pair. Soon enough, Tubbo could hear silverware clinking against china as Schlatt began to eat again. He picked up his own spoon and swallowed some cold soup.

A few minutes of eating passed and the next course was brought in, the staff quickly placing the meal and scurrying out of sight, one brave soul staying behind to clean up the broken glass. Tubbo looked at the food with a frown. Fresh baked bread and roasted chicken, still steaming from the oven, sat atop a bed of asparagus. He picked up his fork, making a resolution internally to finish his food, when Schlatt snapped his fingers at the serving girl cleaning the glass.

“Before you run off, take the boy’s plate back. He isn’t feeling very hungry today, it would seem.” The man looked at him with a little satisfied smirk as the serving girl whisked the plate away with her to the kitchen. Tubbo watched her go with a little frown. Schlatt only punished him by denying food when he was really, really mad. Normally the man wouldn’t hurt Tubbo in any visible way so he doesn’t risk his reputation as a generous mayor and single father, but withholding meals was invisible enough. Until the ribs begin to show through, of course.

No matter. He didn’t like asparagus that much anyways.

And so, for the next half hour, Tubbo got to watch his guardian make a show out of finishing his meal. Despite how little appetite he had, the boy had to admit he wished he could have had a bite of a steaming roll as Schlatt shoveled one into his mouth. Bitter resentment rested in his chest, but Tubbo managed to keep it at bay. He was nearly fifteen now. If he couldn’t manage to keep his temper over being sent to bed hungry, he wouldn’t last very long in the world at all. No, the boy folded his hands in his lap and zoned out, thinking over his findings from the past few days.

It hadn’t been easy to slip away from Schlatt to investigate the alleyway Tommy had been found in. The man insisted on keeping the boy out of the public's eyes unless it was an event he orchestrated himself. Even so, he could never keep Tubbo in his sight at all times. The manor had many rooms to disappear into and windows to climb out of. And the walk to the busy center of town wasn’t too bad. The hardest part of his investigation had been interrogating the undertaker who didn’t take him all that seriously, but his endeavors had paid off when he learned of the puncture wounds. After that it was easier to piece together a decent theory of what had happened.

It had been even easier when the masked gentleman offered his help.

Schlatt rose from the table, startling Tubbo from his thoughts. The man dusted bread crumbs from the lap of his trousers before making his way around the table to the boy. Tubbo kept his eyes on his hands folded in his lap, hoping that he hadn’t somehow pissed his guardian off by getting lost in his thoughts. A hand found its way to his chin, tilting up his face so he looked into Schlatt’s eyes. It wasn’t rough, but there was a firmness that suggested it very well could be if Tubbo pushed it.

“Why are you here, Tubbo?” Schlatt asked. Sensing another one of his lectures, the teen simply blinked and gave in.

“To be seen, sir, and not heard.” He had his lines memorized by heart.

“That’s right. I didn’t take you in to humor your delusions or follow you on wild goose chases after ghosts or ghouls or whatever. The only reason you’re here and not starving on the side of the road is because you have a cute face and you’re more polite than the average street rat. Voters eat that shit up, little orphans taken in by a kind soul, wide eyed and awed by all of the fancy upper class bullshit. You know your role, boy, and you still like to test my patience, my generosity.” The grip on his chin tightened and Tubbo fought a flinch. “I could sell you off to the wool mill across town if you really hate it here that much. Heard their little worker boys only lose an average of three fingers in those big ass machines! Pretty good, all things considered. Not like the steel factory, most of those kids don’t even make it outta there.”

That was enough to freeze Tubbo’s blood. It was no secret he dreaded the factories. His time at the orphanage was spent with him and Tommy trying to dodge the notice of the visiting foremen who came by to round up fresh workers. Tommy was skinny but he had determination in his heart and a fire in his soul, he would have made it quite a while working under those conditions. Tubbo was short and scrawny, and he knew his spirit would have been broken within the week. The same fear was present now, clear in how his fingers trembled and tears gathered in his eyes. Schlatt smirked again and shook Tubbo’s face in his grip.

“Not too keen on that one, are you? By all means, boy, I can make your wish come true. Just say the word and we’ll find you a job!” Tubbo closed his eyes and pressed his mouth into a thin line, trying to swallow his tears and just do as Schlatt wanted. “No? You don’t want to go?” The hand let up on its torment and the teen slowly raised a hand to rub his aching jaw.

“No…no sir.” He couldn’t even look up at Schlatt at this point, too afraid to incur his wrath any further. When a hand rested on Tubbo’s head he prepared for the worst. Instead of striking the top of his head, Schlatt merely kept it there as if the unmoving presence of his hand was in some way comforting. The very same hand that had slapped him not an hour earlier.

“Good. Now go up to your room and go to sleep,” Schlatt ordered gruffly, moving back to his seat to grab his whiskey. He downed the rest of it before setting the glass down. “I’ll let the servants know your doors are to be locked until eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Tubbo stood without a word, exiting through the door to the foyer. He climbed the winding staircase up to his room, only tripping a few times on the worn, wrinkled rug. Once he reached his room a butler was already there, holding the door open for the boy that would seem like a kind gesture in any other circumstance.

But right then he was just a dog being locked back in his kennel.

The door shut gently behind him and Tubbo flopped down onto his fancy bed that was always too soft to be comfortable. He was used to the stiff, ratty mattresses at the orphanage. Even after months of living under Schlatt’s “care”, he just couldn’t get used to the overly comfy furniture.

The boy scrubbed his hands over his eyes, frustrated with the way that conversation had gone. He had just wanted to get some form of support from an adult so this investigation would go smoother. There was only so much the masked gentleman could do with him in public before the people recognized him as the mayor’s adopted son. If he couldn’t get Schlatt’s support on this, he needed to find a way to access the information they needed to find Tommy.

Tubbo was so caught up in his thoughts he hardly heard the clink against his window. Confused, the teen sat up and eyed the direction of the sound, slowly standing and making his way across the room to the window. After a few seconds of staring, he saw a pebble bounce against the glass. Now thoroughly intrigued, Tubbo peered out the window down onto the lawn. It was far too dark to properly see anything, and all he could do was squint into the shadows.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Is anyone there?”

Not a moment after, a pebble bounced off his forehead. It didn’t hurt but it certainly surprised the teen enough to send him stumbling backwards with a startled yelp. A soft laugh rose up in the night air and Tubbo risked another look outside.

The moon traced the edges of the porcelain mask, giving the gentleman the illusion of glowing as he looked up at Tubbo.

Chapter Text

If Schlatt wanted to sell him to a factory for sharing his theory on Tommy, Tubbo could only imagine his reaction to seeing his adopted ward sitting at his chess table with a strange masked man in the opposite arm chair. Perhaps he would shoot the boy dead on the spot and bury him in a shallow grave in the woods. After all, it was probably improper for a young lord to let a monster hunter into his room without a chaperone.

Well, to be fair, there may have been a reason for that. If the gentleman hadn’t told him about the monsters, Tubbo wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.

As the masked gentleman moved the knight across the board, humming a little tune to himself, Tubbo found himself staring at the porcelain mask. By design, it was impossible to tell exactly what the man was thinking about. His eyes were obscured from sight by black velvet positioned behind the eye holes of the mask, and the open hole beneath the smile carved into the porcelain was only big enough for him to talk and breathe through. Hell, Tubbo couldn’t even tell if the man was looking at him or not.

The mask always made it seem that he was being watched. There was something a bit too rigid and stiff to the smiling mask that unnerved the boy to no end…not that he would ever admit that to the gentleman.

“You came all the way out here to play chess?” Tubbo asked, moving his bishop to take the knight. Surely not. The man never seemed truly interested in the boy as a person, so to imagine he would purposefully take time out of his day to play chess with him was absurd.

The question did earn an amused huff. “Ah, if only my visits could be so pleasant, lordling.” The man moved his next piece, hardly seeming to think about it. “While I do enjoy having someone who can hold their own against me at this game, I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.” After the move, the man reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a red and white cloth. Upon a second take, Tubbo discovered that the red was not dyed by choice, splattered onto the article like a child had gotten ahold of paint and threw it about.

It was blood. The handkerchief clutched in the gentleman’s hand was soaked with blood, seemingly fresh by the vibrancy of the crimson. The boy recoiled backwards into the plush armchair at the realization.

If he had noticed how disturbed Tubbo was by the grisly item, the man paid no heed to his reaction. “Awfully convenient that the undertaker who handled your friend's corpse is found dead a few days after we paid him a visit, don’t you think?” the man commented, voice even as he examined the bloodied cloth.

“Mr. Michael?” Tubbo asked, taken aback. He had only spoken to the grumpy undertaker two days ago! To think that he was dead so soon after their visit was truly saddening to the boy. “Sir, what happened? How did he die? Where did you find that?!”

“Easy there, lordling. If you let me, I will explain it all to you.” That shut Tubbo up quickly. In the brief moment of silence that followed, an odd twist of the man’s head had the boy a bit confused.

“Wait,” the man started. “Did you call me sir?”

“Well, uh…yes. Yes, sir, I did.”

“Wow.” The man snorted a laugh. “I am not used to the stupid formalities of the upper class. Just call me Dream.”

Why exactly did Tubbo feel his breath leave his lungs upon learning that information? Why did he feel as though he could lift an entire mountain after hearing the man’s name? He suspected it had to do with the fact the man trusted him enough to share his name. If he trusted Tubbo, that meant Tubbo was doing something right and was worthy of being treated with the same respect as an equal.

An empty pit in his chest yearned to become somebody that was worthy of being trusted and cared about.

He had to pull himself from his own thoughts before he worked himself up to tears over the longing for attention in his heart. “Well then, Dream,” he tested the name out, “what happened to Mr. Michael?”

The gentleman- Dream, he silently corrected himself- took a moment to observe the chessboard before answering. “The details were not disclosed to me, but he was found dead in the funeral home. From the whisperings of onlookers, it seemed that the body was so torn up that the only way they could identify the man was by his cufflinks on a severed arm.” Tubbo’s face pulled into a wince at the thought. What a grisly end indeed.

And if they were right…the monsters behind such a slaughter had his best friend. There was no way to suppress the chill crawling down his spine as he wondered what they could have done to Tommy.

“Once the law cleared after closing the scene down, I poked around a bit and saw a little trail of gore,” Dream continued, moving his queen to take the boy’s rook. “One of the fuckers must have stepped in its victims blood, fortunately. I was able to follow them through the alleyways until I found this handkerchief resting on the drainage grate at a dead end in the alley.” This surprised Tubbo. From what they had theorized and assumed, the monster's nest was located in the surrounding forest rather than the sewers.

“They live underground?” Tubbo asked. “I thought that there was a trail of them running to the woods. Remember? At the cemetery?”

“Yes, lordling, you’re correct. Our mistake was assuming from the trail that they lived in the forest,” Dream said. “I followed it earlier today and found it actually led to the shore nearby, where a sewer outlet was located. It was far too dark for me to go in and explore on my own, but I have no doubt their nest is located in the underbelly of the city.”

That was definitely a shock to the young lord. While he knew that monsters did not have the same needs or wishes as humans, surely they had a bit more class than to reside in the sewers? Few animals enjoyed such a site as their home, and he couldn’t imagine immortal beings would find themselves on the list of those in favor. His confusion must have been apparent as Dream let out a throaty chuckle.

“Not in the sewers, mind you. While a great deal of the underground structure of this city is a part of the sewer system, the rest of it is taken up by an ancient catacomb.”

“Catacomb?!” Tubbo exclaimed. “I had no idea we lived above a catacomb!”

“Few do, it would seem,” Dream said. “It is a fairly recent discovery, which makes it a perfect residence for monsters who stalk the night. What better den for them to operate out of than a dark, sprawling labyrinth of bones that no man within the last century has explored?” Now it all made much more sense. These monsters were not sewer dwellers, but rather crypt crawlers. While Tubbo was relieved he didn’t have to wade through a river of sewage to hunt these creatures, he wasn’t sure if stumbling through a dark, dusty catacomb was much of an improvement.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as his attention was recaptured by the board game, thinking over his next moves with a renewed fervor. The game had definitely taken a turn for the worst, and Dream’s gaze resting on him with the patience of a tiger watching a fawn stumble through the brush towards its den only made the tensions far higher. After another moment of deliberation, Tubbo made his move before looking up at his opponent sheepishly.

Sure enough, the tiger pounced. In a swift movement, Dream countered Tubbo and put him in checkmate.

“Dammit!” the boy grumbled, though there was no real malice to his tone. He extended his hand to Dream, not forgetting the proper etiquette in his moment of irritation. The man took his hand in a firm grasp, another little laugh escaping from behind his mask.

“You are improving, that is to be sure. You will defeat me one day, little lordling.”

“That’s all well and good,” Tubbo huffed, withdrawing his hand, “but until then, we need to make a move on these monsters. What do we do now that we know where they are hiding?”

Dream hummed a bit, busying himself with cleaning up the board and restoring each piece to its proper position. “Well, I wouldn’t say we know exactly where they are hiding. We have chased the rabbit to its burrow, but there’s no telling which tunnel it sleeps in. I will look into the catacombs with my own associates personally.” He lifted his face from the chessboard to fix Tubbo with a masked glance. “Such a place is far too treacherous for you.”

The reminder that Tubbo wasn’t much use to their mission had the boy shifting uncomfortably in his chair. If he was unable to prove to Dream that he could offer something of value to their hunt, he was afraid the man would simply stop involving him.

“I can examine the scene of the crime tomorrow,” he offered. At Dream’s silence, he quickly continued on. “You said there is a trail leading from the crime scene, correct? I could either search for where the monster had come from or gain better insight on where exactly it went. Maybe I could speak to some witnesses for a description?” The silence stretched on for an extra moment or two, and Tubbo began to fear that he had overstepped some sort of boundary he was unaware of.

Maybe Dream would yell at him for such a foolish suggestion.

Instead, the man simply nodded. “Alright then, you can go snoop around tomorrow. See if you can’t gather any further clues, and I will check back in on you in a few days.” Tubbo smiled a bit, secretly relieved at the gentleman’s approval. Dream rose from his armchair, dipped his head a bit, before turning towards the window. Tubbo followed behind him at a distance.

Before the gentleman climbed from the window, he looked back over his shoulder at the boy. “We are getting closer, boy, I can feel it. Soon enough, those monsters shall be brought to justice and we will learn of your friend's fate. Until then, remain vigilant.” Without so much as a goodbye, the man seemed to jump from the window and disappeared into the night.
Tubbo watched him go, the familiar lonely void reopening in his chest. While Dream was not particularly the best of company, the gentleman certainly was far better than Schlatt with his fits of anger. His brief visits did little to ease the unpleasantness of his life. What Tubbo really yearned for was his life before his adoption. All he really wanted was to be reunited with Tommy, even if it meant he would be back at that orphanage.

With the hollow feeling in his chest sharpening into a painful ache, the boy went off to sleep with bitter tears staining his cheeks.

Chapter Text

Ever since Tommy’s “death”, Tubbo’s sleep would be haunted by pleasant dreams involving his best friend. Really, they were memories with a few details skewed, but he enjoyed the little changes his slumbering brain made to them. Little details like the room arrangement at the orphanage, or the faces of the other boys from his childhood, or other bit and pieces that weren’t as important always seemed a bit off. No matter the differences born from poor recollection, the important parts always stayed the same.

Tommy’s face. Tommy’s laugh. Tommy’s jokes. Every aspect of his friend remained immortalized in his unconscious mind. It was a fact that brought the boy comfort through such a time of turmoil. Even if he could never see his best friend again, he would always have these dreams.

And his dream that night was a particularly pleasant one. He and Tommy were bounding through the field outside of the orphanage, both no older than seven from the looks of it. Tubbo watched his younger self chase bumblebees and butterflies as Tommy trampled through the tall grass, a stuffed toy cow clutched lovingly in the boy's arms. The two little ones were speaking to each other, though it was almost like the words were muffled to Tubbo. Like the words being said really didn’t matter so much as the moment in time did. Two boys, brothers by all but blood, enjoying a moment of escape from their dull lives together.

Little Tommy shoved his toy cow, Henry, into Tubbo’s hands so he could climb a nearby tree. In that moment, as the little Tubbo gazed down at the stuffed cow with a smile gracing his tiny features, the dream froze. The warm golden glow of the sun as it lit the scene turned to a pale grey hue. Tubbo couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably from his spot in the grass, confused.

Nothing looked wrong, really, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It felt as though there was a snake hiding in the grass, and the boys were only a distance away from being bitten. The anxiety building in Tubbo’s gut became unbearable. Something was hunting the two boys frozen in the grass in front of him.

Something was about to strike.

The feeling spurred him into action. Determined to protect the two boys, he dashed forward. Each step felt slowed, as though he were walking through honey, until he froze himself just feet away from the two. Now he was stuck in place. His teeth grit together as he willed himself to move to no avail.

As he struggled against whatever force held him in place, he didn’t notice the figure looming above the children until it was far too late. Unable to do anything but watch, a scream caught in the back of his throat, he watched as a shadowy, featureless creature dove for little Tommy aggressively.

And then there was pain.

Gasping for breath, sweat-soaked strands of hair clinging to his forehead like a brand, Tubbo sat up from where he fell from his bed. For a moment he just sat there waking up, pinching the skin of his arm to remind himself he was awake. None of his dreams had been quite that nightmarish for months now. Of course he had bad dreams, but never anything near as violent as that had been.

Maybe it was the stress. Or perhaps going to bed hungry was bad for the mind. Whatever the case, there was a reason for his mad fit.

It didn’t take too long for the boy to clean himself up. He had sweat through his shirt in the night, and he was certain Schlatt would give him no end in grief for being unpresentable. After putting on fresh clothes for the day and taming what he could of his unkempt hair, he made his way towards the door to his room, ready to begin his day.

So when he found the knob was still locked, he was quite surprised.

He could have sworn Schlatt had said he would be let free from his room the next morning. Of course, minds change and his guardian was known for being a bit fickle (especially when influenced by alcohol). Tubbo considered raising a ruckus by pounding on the door, but really this all worked out in his favor. If Schlatt wanted him to be locked away for the day, there wouldn’t be anyone to keep him from slipping out of the manor to investigate the funeral home. For once, his guardian’s neglect has been to his benefit.

The boy hurried to his bed, falling to his knees and reaching beneath it to withdraw a rope of knotted sheets. How he had gotten away with snagging so many linens without the servants growing suspicious, Tubbo had no idea. Maybe they were plenty suspicious but their meager pay kept them content with not knowing. Either way, he had collected enough material over the months to allow him to climb in and out of the window.

It took great effort to slide down the rope, but after a few minutes and a lot of courage, the boy landed gently onto the soft grass of the lawn. He had no time to waste lest he be spotted by the groundskeepers, rushing to the gate and slipping his skinny frame through the spaces between the bars with ease. Perks of being an underfed boy.

Schlatt’s estate was located along a cobblestone road set in the woods, a solid two miles out from the heart of the city. It wasn’t too strenuous of a hike, allowing enough time for Tubbo to stroll along and enjoy the forest before getting into the hustle and bustle of civilization. But today he had no desire to lollygag and waste time. He had to get to the funeral home before the whole city woke up and crowded the streets.

It was a little after an hour later when he arrived into town, the tall stone buildings casting long shadows against the pavement as the sun rose steadily. Surely it couldn’t have been later than 9 in the morning, and even so the streets were busy. Horse drawn carriages and carts clattered over cobblestones. People of all sorts hurried along, rushing to get to work or to run errands or attend to whatever business they needed to attend to. Children ran wild, weaving between pedestrians as they went off to play whatever they wished. Many parts of the city could be considered charming, Tubbo was sure, from the fine architecture adorned with wrought iron decor to the inviting scent of fresh bread wafting from the bakeries lining the streets.

Unfortunately, the unpleasant sides of the city were far too noticeable to really let the positives outweigh them. The billowing smoke from the factories seemed to form a permanent smog above town, giving the world a dull hue. Shifty folks lurked at the mouths of alleyways, sizing up possible targets. Homeless folks shivered and begged on street corners. A closer look at the city revealed all of the less savory bits, and Tubbo was keen on getting to his destination as quickly as possible to avoid such things. It all reminded him too much of the orphanage.

Mr. Michael’s funeral home was tucked away deep in the city between a florist shop and a carpenters’. What had once been a fairly busy part of town only held a few souls with heads bowed low as they hustled past. The florist shop was closed, and as Tubbo walked past the window, he saw the drapes draw shut. The people around here were clearly on edge. That shouldn’t have been a surprise to the boy given the fact a murder had just taken place the night previous, but it still didn’t sit right in his stomach. Maybe he had hoped Dream’s report hadn’t been accurate. Maybe he had some little voice inside praying that there wasn’t a macabre scene hidden behind the broad oak door of the funeral home looming before him.

Speaking of the door, a wooden sign had been hammered to its surface. Black paint, still drying by the looks of it, spelled out a warning to any who would want to enter. It read, “CAUTION - CRIME SCENE. KEEP OUT”. Perhaps it was advice Tubbo should have taken more seriously, but he pressed on nevertheless.

The door refused to open as he pushed upon it. Of course it would be locked. With the owner of the house dead, passerby’s with ill intent would have been able to rummage through his belongings and pinch whatever they wanted. It was probably for the best that it was secured, even if it was an obstacle in Tubbo’s investigation. Though Dream had mentioned a trail of blood leading from the crime scene, so maybe he wouldn’t even need to gain access to the interior. With his goal changed, Tubbo hopped down the steps leading to the door and moved around to circle the perimeter of the building.

The alleyway on its right stretched back a distance before forking off two separate directions. A single person sat against the wall, their figure obscured by a ratty, clay colored cloak. Their eyes were wrapped up by rags and they seemed to be unresponsive, not in a lifeless manner but more in a minding-my-own-damn-business way. Tubbo edged down the side of the funeral home, careful to step around the figure as he looked for any sign of blood. Behind the home he found a few half cobbled coffins stacked against the back wall, propped up next to the back door. Further investigation found the spare door to be just as locked as the first.

After making his way back to the front of the house and seeing no clues of any kind, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel a bit frantic. He needed to find something of use to report back to Dream. Not only did Tommy’s life rely on this investigation, but he needed to prove himself to the gentleman. Returning empty handed wasn’t an option in the slightest.

His hurried searching was soon to draw to an end. As he made his way back round to the side of the house, expecting to bump into the odd figure once again, he found the alleyway empty. Strange for the person to have left with such little trace, but Tubbo didn’t linger on that fact too strongly. Instead, his attention was grabbed by a splash of crimson set against the dull cobblestones right where the figure had been sitting. Excitement danced up his spine and he crouched down to examine it. It could have originated from the man, sure, but the less than vivid red seemed to have been there a long while. The shape of the blood imprint was odd as well, less of a droplet and much more of a smudge. Dream had mentioned someone leaving a trail from their shoe.

The boy turned his head to where the trail led, spying another dried smudge a distance away. Deeper into the alleyway it led, where even the morning sun couldn’t quite chase away the shadows. Without much of a thought, too distracted by the thrill of discovery, Tubbo went off after the trail now that he knew what to look for.

It wound about several yards, turning between the maze of buildings almost erratically, until Tubbo came upon his target. The aforementioned drainage grate that Dream had mentioned laid nestled in the stony floor of a dead end. The brick buildings stretching to the air around him held broken windows and precarious cracks as though the tenets of the building had long since abandoned it. Now that he had stopped his chase and was able to take in the full details of his surroundings, Tubbo became more nervous. There wasn’t a soul around, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was as though he could peer into a broken window above him and find eyes staring right back. The thought unnerved him enough to keep his gaze fixed to the grate before him. Summoning a bit more courage, he crept to the edge of the drain and peered down into the darkness.

It wasn’t nearly as deep as he expected. Maybe he was anticipating some frightening pit that served as a portal to Hell itself, but he was able to see the debris covered ground not ten feet below. The cavity beneath was shaped like a cube, with an entrance to some sort of tunnel on opposite walls. Honestly, it was all so normal looking for what the gentleman had hinted to be the entryway for some monsters.

As Tubbo shifted his weight between legs, still a bit antsy, something caught a ray of sun and glinted for a second. Curious, the boy stepped closer and crouched low to the grate. He squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the object of his interest amongst the collected water and leaves. It was particularly difficult with such little light being filtered in thanks to the buildings walling him in, and for a moment he cursed not coming when the sun was much higher. After another moment or two of peering down at the weird object below, he recognized the round wire shape of glasses laying abandoned among the trash.

Odd, but…nothing of note. Disappointed by this less than invigorating discovery, Tubbo straightened up and turned around.

And bumped right into the blind man. The boy let out a startled gasp, staggering backwards until he stood upon the iron bars of the drainage grate. He immediately lost his footing, only barely managing to catch himself by dropping his arms to stand on all fours. Suddenly that ten foot drop looked much, much steeper and his legs began to wobble at the sight. Thankfully, the man must have heard his distress as he was quickly grabbed back to safety.

“Terribly sorry, mate, terribly sorry,” the man chattered. Tubbo mumbled a thank you as he returned to solid ground, immediately putting in a few feet of distance between him and the stranger. Rescuer or not, the boy did not know him. The man did not seem nearly as shy. “Jesus, I didn't mean to spook you like that! Was just a bit worried with you wanderin’ about on your own with what’s been going on.”

“Well, uh, thank you, sir. I appreciate your concern, really, but I would recommend introducing yourself first before following me.” The man tilted his head to the side, straw blond hair spilling over his shoulders.

“Would you rather I shake your hand before I save you from tumbling down, lad?” he asked. Tubbo opened his mouth to answer, though he figured the man had a point and shut it. Almost as though the man could see his reaction, he gave a smile. “Sometimes, my boy, you just have to accept help from less than ideal places. I may not look the part, but I am wiser than you. And I know for fact you should not be poking around here.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re a curious thing, aren’t you?” Tubbo was less than pleased by the man's response. “A saying regarding curiosity and cats comes to mind. Best you heed that advice.”

“Well,” Tubbo began, trying to keep his cool and not snap at the fellow to leave him alone already, “I once again appreciate your concern, but I have business to attend to. And, sir, it is quite time sensitive as I am surely expected home in time for supper tonight. I hope you have a pleasant day.” And with that, the boy turned back to the drainage grate and kept up his observations. Honestly, at that point it was more to get the man to go away than it was to actually investigate, but the man was getting on his nerves.

Unfortunately, his excuse didn’t quite chase the man off. Rather, soft laughter could be heard behind him. Disturbed by the sound, Tubbo craned his head to look over his shoulder. The man had not moved from his spot, simply standing there and shaking his head as he laughed. There was something distant to the sound that put Tubbo on edge, as if the man’s chest were hollow and the laughter was echoing about the chamber. Whatever quality it was about the mans voice, he decided he didn’t like it one bit.

“Determined. Reserved. And maybe just a bit on the snarky side, though you are polite enough to hide it,” the man said with a hum. He then slowly tilted his head to the other side, and Tubbo realized he knew exactly what the motion reminded him of. Like a bird eyeing a worm before it snapped.

“I see what he saw in you.” Those words chilled Tubbo to the marrow of his bones. It was a threat. It was a hint. It ripped him apart and sewed him back together. It was the burn of a fire, the soothe of a balm. All those things and more contained in seven words. Seven words that made the past weeks of pain worth anything at all.

And if that wasn’t the nail in the coffin, the man reached within his cloak and withdrew something plush, tossing it over to land on the ground beside Tubbo. Without a second thought, he grabbed it up and examined it and cried out as if he had been stabbed.

The ratty toy cow, Henry, laid in his hands.

Tubbo whipped around to face the man, trying to stop the tears enough so he could demand the man show him where he found Tommy’s cow, only to find empty space.

That night, Tubbo fell asleep clinging to Henry, and he could almost remember one of Tommy’s old jokes.

Chapter Text

The gentleman huffed an impatient sigh, reaching under his mask to rub at his face. Tubbo couldn’t help the bitter taste of guilt on the back of his tongue, dipping his head down to where Henry rested in his lap. They were both settled in the armchairs in the boys room during one of their midnight meetings, though this one had a different feel than the others. While their other talks involved more theorizing and planning, this one was much quieter. He had let Dream down.

“You learned nothing? They caught you, and you gained nothing from it? You didn’t see his face clearly at all?” Dream asked again, the edge of irritation clear to his words. If Tubbo could have sunk deeper into the plush material of his armchair, he would have. Unable to properly voice his answer, he simply shook his head as he busied his fingers playing with Henry’s frayed ear. The masked gentleman made a frustrated noise, standing suddenly to pace around the room. For a moment there was just the sound of the soft footfalls against the rug and the crackling of the fireplace. Tubbo wasn’t sure if he preferred the silence permeated with disappointment, or words that made their distaste clear.

“I’m sorry, Dream, sir,” he mumbled, hoping to earn back any shred of approval he could. “His face was obscured by a white cloth. I thought he was blind at first, but it seemed to have been a disguise as he was able to move about perfectly fine.”

“They’re crafty, lordling,” Dream said, not once pausing his pacing. “I thought I made that clear. You cannot be too careful with these beasts. You’re lucky they didn’t decide to finish you off then and there.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Enough with the sorries!” The man spat. The change in demeanor startled Tubbo, and he quickly bowed his head down to avoid a blow sure to be aimed his way. After a pause, he heard the man sigh. The boy risked a peek up at the other, discovering him standing closer than he had been. “I didn’t mean to get short with you. I’m just…this is less than ideal, that’s all.” Tubbo simply nodded. He didn’t want to speak out of fear of displeasing the other again.

At Tubbo’s silence, the gentleman stepped forward and ran a gloved hand through his hair, ruffling it up. “You could have been hurt that night, boy, and I could not live with that on my conscience. I am not so sure that having you involved in the investigations is a good idea anymore. Perhaps I had overestimated you.” The boy’s eyes widened as he got to his feet.

“You can’t leave me out!” he begged. “I promise this won’t happen again! I was caught off guard that time, but it will not happen again! Please!”

“I’m thinking of your safety, lordling. I know this is important to you but a slip up like that could get you killed,” Dream warned. Tubbo clutched Henry to his chest, feeling very much like a child at that moment. He didn’t want to be excluded from the mission for such a silly mistake. He had to be involved. He had to find Tommy.

“One more chance. Please, that’s all I ask.”

Dream looked down at him, the porcelain mask burning holes into his face. The boy met his “gaze”, hoping that by standing his ground he would earn back some of the respect he had lost with the gentleman. After a moment of this staring contest, the masked man shook his head and turned towards the window. Tubbo’s heart fell as he watched him go, unsure what else there was to say. As the man hefted himself onto the windowsill, he looked back over his shoulder to the boy.

“You have one chance and then you’re done.” And then he was gone.

That night Tubbo had nightmares again. They felt much more vivid than the last.

A few days spent in Schlatt’s private library did Tubbo some good. Normally he wasn’t too fond of reading with his dyslexia, but upon finding an old tome detailing the construction of the town he discovered he didn’t need to read too many words when studying the layout of the catacombs. The construction of the town had taken the already existing catacombs into consideration, and while the depths of it hadn’t been fully explored, there were key points where the sewer system led into the catacombs marked out on the blueprints. There were a few areas of interest, but the easiest (and more pleasant) location for Tubbo wound up being a maintenance entrance located by the harbor. How scary could a trip to the beach be, after all?

Schlatt had been so distracted with reelections in town that it really hadn’t been hard to slip out of the manor unnoticed. He hadn’t seen much of the man for many days, in fact, and he was loving every moment of his neglect. It was all to his benefit, and the bitter pain in his heart that he wasn’t worth checking up on was well overshadowed by his thrill for the investigation.

The boy scampered down the streets of the city at a much later hour this time. Lamps were being lit down the road, and there were far fewer people milling about. While the darkness would make it trickier to see clues and such, Tubbo had been wise enough to snag a spare oil lantern from a garden shed before leaving. It was quite awkward to carry around town by himself, but most people didn’t pay him too much attention. By the time the moon rose into the sky, joining a blanket of stars glittering in the night, the boy had reached the harbor and followed the path to the beach.

Nobody was out and about at this point, which was quite unusual. Usually there were beachgoers enjoying the soft sand and brisk waves even at such a late hour. The ongoing murders must have been keeping people to their homes, understandably. Tubbo couldn’t help but wonder if he should be following suit.

He slipped off his shoes and socks, letting his toes sink into the sand as he stashed the shoes by the stairs to the main walkway. The gate he was searching for was located beneath the wooden harbor, built into the stone base of the road connecting to it. As he approached the iron bars, he slowed his pace a bit as he lit the lantern. The yellow light cast from the lantern illuminated the gate brightly, enough to expose the handle located on the right of the gate. Tubbo reached out to try it, only to find it locked. Of course.

Before he could withdraw his hand, another hand shot through the bars.

He jumped back from the gate with a shout. As quick as it had appeared, the hand withdrew into the darkness and an uproar of laughter filled the salty air. The sound was unlike anything Tubbo had ever heard before, like the ringing of church bells in the way it both captivated him with its beauty and frighetened him with its might. Part of the boy wanted to open the gate and approach the voice, but rationally he knew there was no action more foolish to be made in such a situation. Instead, he raised the lantern up to expose the source of the voice.

The man (or monster, he wasn’t quite sure which label was more apt) stood partially obscured by the iron bars. From what Tubbo could piece together, he was quite tall and was dressed in a ratty leather coat, well worn with use. There was a streak of white amidst the waves of brown hair on the man’s head, though that odd feature was not nearly the most unnatural of it all. Between the iron bars, behind the lenses of the man's glasses, pure golden eyes stared back at the boy. And in that moment when the two locked eyes, all of the fear of the monster and discomfort from the cold just melted away. After all, who could ever suffer again when under the watch of those eyes? Here it was safe, and warm, and Tubbo knew if he stepped closer all would be just fine.

A sharp pain in his foot pulled Tubbo from what he could only assume was a trance. Looking down, it appeared the boy had stepped on some glass and cut his foot open. Despite the awful sting of the wound, he could only find himself feeling grateful. If he had not been snapped to his senses, he surely would have followed the monster in.

Speaking of, the figure simply watched as Tubbo limped backwards to check the injury.

“That didn’t take you very long at all,” the man remarked. “Clever little thing caught on quick, didn’t you? If I had known I would have been in the presence of an experienced sleuth tonight I would have made myself far more presentable.” Tubbo chewed on the inside of his cheek as he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to the wound.

“Spare me the jokes, if you would, sir. If I am not mistaken, you just attempted to enchant me,” Tubbo said plainly. He was not here to make nice with monsters, after all. Best to get to the point.

The monster snorted a bit at that, shifting behind the bars. “Oh, come now, that’s nothing I can help! You’re the one sniffing about places young lords don’t belong. Didn’t your father teach you better than to traipse off all on your lonesome? Why, anything could happen to nosy little sleuths like yourself.” Despite the overall pleasant tone, the threat laced among the man's words did not go unnoticed. Perhaps this one was more upset by his investigation than the other had been. Whatever the case, it was too late to run home crying now.

“My father is a wretched man, though he has sense enough compared to the likes of you,” the boy said, arms crossing. “I may not be the most obedient of sons, but even I know that murdering and stealing people is wrong. I ask you not to lecture me when you’ve been caught red handed.”

“How do you mean, boy?”

“Do not play the part of a fool to me, demon. I’m familiar with your work,” Tubbo spat, trying his best to keep his voice as level as he could through his nerves. “You and your kin have made these streets your personal hunting ground. You’ve taken someone dear to me, and now you mock the lives you’ve ruined by remaining resident in these catacombs. You’re a monster.”

Tubbo expected some anger at his accusation, but his words were met with a thoughtful hum. He peeked up at the monster's face, gauging his reaction to what he had said. There wasn’t much to find, the expression guarded carefully as if it was fabricated to be totally neutral.

After another moment of deliberation, the man began to laugh.

“Did you have that little speech planned out?” he asked while catching his breath between the laughter. “You…you cannot convince me you just came up with that on the spot. You may be an impressive little thing, but surely you don’t just recite speeches like that off the top of your head, yeah?” Tubbo bit back an indignant retort as he had, in fact, imagined his confrontation with Tommy’s kidnappers before. In his daydreams, at least, the monster didn’t make fun of him.

“Do not change the subject here!” he snapped, though he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I know who you are and I know what you have done. What do you have to say to that?!”

The laughter died down, replaced by a contemplative silence that aggravated Tubbo to no end. He quickly decided that he did not like this one. While the last monster had been much more cordial and to the point, this one seemed intent on dragging this along as much as possible. He carried the lax attitude of a man who believed he already won, and that pissed the boy off.

“I say you’re much feistier than what my Sire described,” the man said. This intrigued the boy, and he managed to hold back another snap in favor of learning more. “This makes far more sense than you being a mild mannered lamb wandering the streets aimlessly. When we first saw you, I didn’t know what Tommy saw in you.” He cleared his throat before pitching it higher, almost mocking. “Oh, Wilbur, Tubbo isn’t like the others! Tubbo is a good man! If anyone’s got my back, it’s Tubbo!” It was like a sucker punch to the gut. Yes, Tubbo already knew that these were the ones who killed and took Tommy, but to have them blatantly refer to his best friend in such a way made the whole situation that much more physical to him. His stomach turned in an awful manner.

“You…you have him?” was all he could muster. If the man noticed, he didn’t acknowledge his words.

“But this, this makes much more sense. A little spitfire disguising himself as a quiet lad. Curious to see defense mechanisms manifest in such different ways. You know how Tommy is; over the top and aggressive in an effort to chase away people before they have a chance to hurt him. What makes you the way you are, my sleuth?”

“Enough of that!” Tubbo shouted, tension finding purchase in his chest at the man's invasive analysis. He didn’t like that, being dissected and put back together under another person's scrutiny. It was terrifying.

Wilbur must have liked seeing the boy so rattled, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “An abandoned pup at the shelter, just like Toms. Lucky thing you are to be scooped off of the streets by a wealthy new owner while you left your pal to rot.”

“I did no such thing!”

“No use lying to me now, little one. You may believe your own fibs, but I was there. I saw it all play out,” he said plainly. “I saw Tommy break down when you left him with the other boys. Saw the way he completely unraveled with your abandonment. It broke my heart, our hearts, to see him in such a state.” Tubbo shook his head, closing his eyes tightly to hide the tears. Oh, poor Tommy. He didn’t want to leave his friend alone, but Schlatt has his mind made up about him. There was no fighting that…right?

“I didn’t want to go,” Tubbo choked out.

“But you did. You left him behind. Abandoned the puppy to the wolves.”

“I didn’t!”

“Did you know he cried for you? At the time I didn’t know it, but when I learned your name was actually Tubbo, it made sense why he screamed that out when we got our hands on him.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Tubbo shrieked, stamping towards the gate to emphasize his point. “You do not know a thing about Tommy! You do not know a thing about me! Shut the fuck up or-”

The gate rattled as Wilbur suddenly lunged against it, reaching through the bars and grabbing Tubbo by the wrist. Absolutely shocked by the sudden attack, the boy reflexively looked up at his attacker's face before he realized his mistake. Despite the adrenaline running through his veins after being grabbed, all sense of fight or flight escaped his body as he stared at those mesmerizing golden eyes. Once the man could tell Tubbo was under his spell, he smiled and let his wrist go.

“That’s the thing about you mortals, my little sleuth. You cannot begin to comprehend the power I possess. I haven’t half the ability of my Sire, and even so I could pull your mind apart and learn every single thing I would like to know from you,” Wilbur said smoothly, unhurried. Tubbo wanted to scream and cry, to grab the man's arm to his face and bite down hard, but he could barely manage to blink while held under the spell. The man beckoned him closer to the gate, and to his horror he stepped forward.

“We will show you, and then we can learn all about you,” Wilbur murmured, the promise freezing Tubbo’s blood. Sure enough, the metallic click of a lock was heard and the gate began to swing open. Tears gathered in the boy's eyes as the barrier between them disappeared bit by bit, earning a sympathetic croon from the monster.

Before he could be stolen away into the darkness, surely to be ripped to shreds and left to rot within the catacombs, the clatter of footsteps nearby pulled both Tubbo and Wilbur from their focus. The spell slipped enough for Tubbo to stumble away, sucking in air and hyperventilating. Wilbur retreated back behind the gate, shutting it quickly and seemingly disappearing. Not a moment later, a couple of men round the corner and pause as they took in the sight of Tubbo.

Their questions about what he was doing at the edge of town at such a late hour started off sounding concerned, but as they pressed on with the conversation it became clear they were more interested in the fact he was a young lord out in the town by himself. The questioning turned to a mugging, and though Tubbo didn’t try to fight them off he was still roughed up a bit before being sent on his way, relieved of his pocket watch and coin purse.

He never realized he left his handkerchief there as well. Unbeknownst to him, the bloody cloth was clutched in the hands of Wilbur who had seen what the muggers had done to him. Later that night, the article was passed to his brother who instructed him to find the men whose knuckles were stained with the same blood as on the cloth.

It was about time for another hunt anyways.

Chapter Text

“He is a bit of a bitch, isn’t he?” Tommy said, bending backwards to hang off the side of the bed. Tubbo didn’t pay much mind to his friend goofing off, too busy poring over the blueprints to find a better entrance.

“I dunno. He was quite dismissive of me at first and then he just snagged me,” Tubbo explained. “Made sense why he was acting like such a prick the whole time. It was as though he knew he would get me to snap at him eventually.”

“Yeah, that’s Wilbur for ya. Full of himself as he is, he’s got the skill to back it up. Unfortunately. I’d love to show him up every now and then myself.” Tubbo snorted at that, shaking his head.

“You can’t. You’re dead.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ll find a way,” Tommy declared, springing up from the bed. Tubbo paused in his studies to watch his friend take punches at thin air, hopping back and forth as if challenging someone to a boxing match. “Wouldn’t take much to knock down that bastard. Just a couple knocks to the head and the skinny fuck crumples to the floor, yeah?”

Tubbo laughed at his antics, shaking his head with disbelief. “You’re gonna fight the monsters with your fists?”

“Whoa now, slow down there Tubzo,” Tommy chided. “I didn’t say I was gonna fight all of them. Just Wil-bitch.”

“The others are too powerful?”

“Well you heard the man last night. He said his Sire or whatever was many times stronger than he was. There’s no telling what he could do to you.”

Tubbo frowned at that. That was true. If he wasn’t even able to take on Wilbur without being incapacitated immediately, he had no hope challenging the leader. Surely Dream would know how to destroy the demons. That was the only hope he had to get Tommy back.

He looked back over to ask Tommy another question only to find the space he had been occupying empty. For a few minutes Tubbo just stared at the spot, the color draining from his face. How long had he been speaking to Tommy? It felt like ages, and it all seemed so real that he hadn’t questioned it at all. The boy shakily closed the book he was poring over and set it on the side table, clasping his trembling hands together as he settled into the armchair. He let the tears fall as he sat there.

He was going crazy. He had to be at that point. There was no other explanation for the lost sleep, or the visions popping up. It felt as though there was something golden at the corner of his vision, like a flickering cloud of soft light dancing just out of his gaze. Whenever he tried to look at it, it was almost like it got further away. The longer he stopped trying to spy it, the more it engulfed his vision.

He needed to speak with someone about this. Certainly not Schlatt, the man was far too busy with the re-elections. Besides, there was no way to seek his help without revealing at least a bit of what he was doing, and that wouldn’t go over well in the slightest.

Tubbo considered trying to flag Dream down for help, but it had been well over a week since he had seen the man. Part of him was grateful for the distance as he hadn’t really discovered anything new to report. He learned the name of one of the monsters, and he knew they had taken Tommy. Besides that, there was nothing else of note. He was going to be cut out of the investigation this time for sure, so the longer he could avoid that conversation the better for his own mental health.

All of it was beginning to give the boy a splitting headache. Tubbo stood from the armchair, stretching his arms out a bit and yawning. It was quite late, long past the time he was supposed to be in bed, though he didn’t feel too tired. No, he didn’t want to lie down to sleep only to toss and turn the entire night. He needed to go burn some nervous energy if he wanted any chance at a restful sleep.

How…how was he on the front lawn? Tubbo blinked dazedly, turning around to face the front gate he must have just slipped through. He was just in his room…wasn’t he? Well, he wanted to go for a walk anyway. What did it matter that he didn’t remember how he got to his goal?

His mind felt full, like the down feathers that stuffed his pillows had made their way into his skull as he slept. His surroundings came in short bursts as he traveled through the streets. At some points he found himself stopped staring into the tree line framing the cobblestone road to town, and at others he was weaving through alleyways in downtown. The details of how he got from place to place were completely fuzzy and he didn’t quite know where he was going. At that moment, it didn’t really matter so long as he wasn’t asleep. He had been meaning to explore the catacombs anyways.

Everything felt warm. Everything felt safe. Everything was going to be okay so long as he kept on going.

Just like it was with Wilbur.

…he needed to snap out of it.

He needed to snap the fuck out of it NOW.

Tubbo mustered all of his strength and, with a cry escaping his lungs, threw himself to the ground. It hurt badly, sure to leave bruises upon his legs as he collapsed, but the pain was temporary. It was worth the discomfort to keep himself from walking right into the drain grate from his first investigation. How he had even known to find this place again, he hadn’t a clue, but there he was. Back in the dead end where he met the Sire. Back to where he got Henry.

The boy could feel his heart racing as he got to his feet, breath coming in shallow pants. If he breathed too loudly, he would summon them. And they would take him and kill him. The thought turned his legs to jelly and he knew he had to get out of that alleyway as fast as he could. He turned on heel and began to make his retreat when he just…stopped.

The whistle of the breeze brushed past his ear as Tubbo slowly turned around to face the drain grate. He remembered the other night when he had seen the glasses at the bottom of the cavity below. For some odd reason, he had the strongest urge to peer into the grate and see them again. After all, he was already going mad, why not commit to whatever has taken him over and take a look. What could it harm? It was a pair of glasses?

If the boy was in his right mind he would have been able to understand that there was something wrong with his thinking, his urges, his actions. If he were thinking clear and proper, he would realize there was a golden haze bordering the edges of his vision. But at that moment, he was compelled. And he followed his— his…?— strange wishes.

At first he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. His brain must have been trying to protect him from the horrors laying at the bottom of the cavity beneath. When he was able to actually piece together what crime against humanity rested below, tucked away in the murky underbelly of the city as if that would hide the scene from the divine light of the heavens above, Tubbo quickly decided there was no merciful God waiting for anyone on the other side.

Two people laid side by side at the bottom of the cavity, half sunk in the dirty water. A cursory glance at the pair would almost suggest they were a couple resting peacefully in a bed of filth, but closer examination revealed the horrors. Their stomachs were gouged open to reveal a mess of intestines spilling out. One figure was missing his lower jaw, the whites of his top row of teeth catching the moonlight in a chilling manner. Sparkling like diamonds among a dark pool of ruby red. A sick, perverted pile of treasure, as awe inspiring as it was deeply disturbing. The other figure kept its head intact, though its arms and legs were nowhere to be found. The expression frozen on his face was enough to sear into Tubbo’s mind and haunt him forever, so twisted in its terror and despair that the boy could hardly believe it was not a sculpture.

Many things ran through Tubbo’s mind at once. He needed to run, he needed to find out who did this, he needed to tell somebody there were bodies there. Before he could act on any of those, however, the distinct sound of water sloshing as it was disturbed rose from the cavity below. Ripples in the blood soaked runoff below danced out from the left tunnel, and, in a state of shock, the boy laughed to himself imagining the ripples to be retreating in fright from whatever it was that caused them. He needed to join them in their retreat, he knew it. Every cell in his body urged him to flee. But he could not move as he finally spied the silver eyes in the mouth of the tunnel below.

How he hadn’t noticed them before, he wasn’t sure. Had they been watching him the entire time? Whatever the case, the figure below watched him intently from where it stood lurking in the shadows. It was far too dark to get a proper look at their face given their positioning, so all Tubbo could gather from the scene were those impossibly shining silver eyes.

The monster's gaze dipped for a second, looking down at the corpses laid together as if evaluating the scene. There was no indication of surprise or shock at the sight before them. It was as though they expected it to be there. As though they had seen it before

It most definitely was the one that put it there.

After a moment of examination, the eyes turned back up to the frozen boy. “I don’t like to brag,” the surprisingly ordinary voice began, “but this is probably my best work to date.”

How was he meant to respond to such a thing? The boy hardly had time to process the blood chilling display of gore beneath him and he is meant to listen to the perpetrator gloat? Maybe Dream was right after all. Maybe he was not ready for this.

The figure seemed to grow bored from his stunned silence, stepping closer to the light. “Nah, you’re right, probably not my absolute best. Easy top three. Or, uh…no, let’s call it a solid top five.” There was another pause as the monster stared at Tubbo. When the boy said nothing, the eyes narrowed. “Look, I don’t want to criticize, but you’re being very ungrateful for your gift.”

“My…my gift?” Tubbo echoed, voice cracking from the nerves.

The eyes brightened as they had finally earned a verbal response and the figure stepped even closer into the light. The boy could then make out the figure hidden in the recess below, which turned out to be a fairly tall, fairly fit young man. He had long hair tied back in a loose ponytail and a cloak draped over his shoulders. His white shirt was littered with smatterings of blood, so dense on the fabric it could be mistaken for the well-worn smock of a painter. The more he revealed of himself, the more that ball of tension getting caught in Tubbo’s throat grew. This one was not hiding himself. This one was not playing with him. Wilbur held the confidence of a man sure he would win. This monster…he had the nonchalance of a person who had already won.

“Yes, your gift! I got those crooks who mugged you. Was that seriously not obvious?” the man asked. Tubbo could only shake his head, much to the others' chagrin. The man placed a hand on his hip and shifted his weight, the moonlight catching on the hilt of what looked to be a sword sheathed at his belt as he did so.

“I have to admit, Tubbo,” the monster spoke with the edge of complaint to his tone, “I am very, very confused right now. Here I am looking for this extraordinary boy worthy of my family’s attention and all I have here is a scared, shivering little thing staring at me like a mouse would a kitty cat.” The man paced the expanse of the cavity, carefully stepping over the viscera decorating the bottom. Tubbo was unsure how to respond, whether he wanted to defend himself or agree with the other.

“Is that what you are, Tubbo? Are you prey, frozen in the sights of a predator ready to strike you down?” the man asked with the slightest tilt of his head. There was no hesitation as the boy vigorously shook his head.

“No,” Tubbo protested. “No, no, I…I’m not prey.”

“No, no, no?” the monster mocked. “Well, I’ll tell you this, you’re acting just like these two goons did when I got ahold of them. They cried and squealed and struggled just like a rabbit caught in a snare.” Tubbo visibly grimaced at such a thought, ducking his head down. Those poor, poor souls. He cannot imagine the suffering they must have endured in those final moments, though he feared he would need to start considering it sooner rather than later as the monster eyed him through the bars of the grate.

“I do wonder how you will act once I get you. Will you fight me? Plead for mercy? Stay frozen up in place?” Another moment of silence stretched between the two, only interrupted by the whistling of the evening wind. Then, those silver eyes glinted with something sinister.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

There was little Tubbo could do but stare as the monster leapt up, easily clearing the not-insignificant distance to the grate above him. With a sharp pull, the metal bent in as if it were no more than aluminum. The boy realized it would take no time for the man to break through and fulfill his grotesque curiosity. If that were truly to be his fate, there was no way in hell Tubbo was going to sit still and make it easy for him.

No, he was not prey. He was a hunter, like Dream. He just needed to outsmart his mark.

Tubbo made a dash for one of the abandoned buildings, lowering his shoulder down to bust his way past the rotting wood of the door. The creaking whine of the grate as it was bent grew louder and louder, until a loud metallic snap could have been heard even as the boy was rushing up the stairs. He hurried up two more flights of stairs, passing hallways of old, dilapidated apartments and debris scattered about.

Once on the top floor, the boy began to scramble for a plan. He hurriedly peeked into the apartments to see if there was anything left to be utilized against the monster. In his limited amount of time, he was able to find a small hole in the floorboards that he figured he could squeeze through to reach the floor below. It would be handy so long as he could guarantee the monster wasn’t on that floor when he escaped to it. Baiting the monster all the way to the top floor to make a retreat through the hole to a lower level was risky, but there was little better he could come up with. He spotted a large chunk of lumber from a collapsed support beam, heavy enough that it would make plenty of noise if thrown. Tubbo would be able to attract the monster by making a ruckus.

While preparing for his plan, he quickly snagged a long, inch thick splinter of wood from the debris. Worst case scenario, he could hope the myths are all true and aim for the heart.

The foreboding sound of floorboards creaking beneath hasty footsteps from below served as the cue for Tubbo to toss the lumber down the hallway. The wood slammed against the far wall before clattering to the floorboards, breaking the rotted wood through. That wasn’t a part of the plan, but it was far too late to unthrow the lumber. The boy simply had to go with it. And, judging by the increased volume and frequency of the footsteps below, he had to go with it quickly.

Timing was to be key if he wanted to utilize the distraction to its fullest. If he dropped too soon, there was a chance he would alert the monster in time for it to change its path. No, he had to wait. Sweat dripped from his forehead and trailed down his cheeks as he tried to gauge the distance of the thudding. When he could feel the floorboards begin to tremble from where he was crouched above the hole in the room, he pushed his legs through and let gravity do the rest.

It was a tighter fit than he realized, the broken wood scraping any exposed skin it could reach as he tried to force him down the hole faster. The monster must have heard him as the door to the room swung open with extreme force. Just as Tubbo could see the soft pink of the monster's hair, he slipped fully through the floor and landed roughly on the creaky wood below. An arm chased after him through the hole, trying to snag him but unable to fit through fully. The boy stared wide eyed at the clawed hand blindly grasping for him, his heart beating erratically at the disaster that had nearly struck. He had no seconds to spare, getting to his feet and hurrying out of the room he had dropped into.

“Back to your hidey hole, little mouse!” the monster called after him, followed closely by the sound of wood snapping. “You’re already wounded!” Tubbo didn’t let the taunts get to his head. All he needed to do now was outpace the monster out of the building. He took what little head start he had and bounded down the stairs.

It seemed Tubbo wasn’t the only one with tricks as, in his hurry, he had failed to notice the monster's cloak stretched out between the banisters at the bottom of the stairs to the second story. His foot caught on the taut fabric and he fell forward, barely catching himself with his hands to save his face from smacking into the ground. Several splinters found purchase in his palms, but that truly was the least of his worries as he felt someone grab him up by the scruff of his neck. As the gravity of his looming death settled down on the boy, logic and reason were all but flung out the window. He was running on pure adrenaline and instinct at that point. And with that instinct, he snagged his stake off of the floor and aimed a strike back over his head, wildly stabbing around. He must have hit something as the monster let out a surprised shout and he was promptly dropped. If he were in his right mind he could have whirled around and tried to strike the final blow then, but all Tubbo could think of at the moment was running away. With the staircase no longer a viable option, he rushed down the hall as quick as he could and threw the door open. The window was already broken out, saving him the trouble as he resolved to fling himself from the second story. With a running start, Tubbo launched himself out the window to sail to the cobblestones below.

Or, at the very least, that was the idea. Instead he hung out of the window from someone's grip on the back of his shirt like a kitten in the jaws of its mother. The adrenaline pumping in his veins and the devastation engulfing his heart clashed harshly with each other, culminating in a frustrated, guttural yell as he was lifted up back into the apartment. With his stabbing hand still free, he tried to turn to his captor and start attacking again but his wrist was easily caught. Driven purely by the lizardbrain buried deep beneath the layers of humanity all people possess, Tubbo leaned forward as best he could and sank his teeth into the hand holding his wrist. For a moment there was no movement or sounds or anything.

Then the monster started laughing. It was full-on belly laughter too, as though he had been witness to the funniest joke ever told. Tubbo wasn’t so aware of the humor in the situation and, truly, he simply did not care what the demon found so amusing. He was far more focused on not having his intestines torn out like the pair in the drainage grate.

Once the laughter subsided, Tubbo felt a hand on the back of his neck gently shake him as if trying to get him to loosen his grip on the hand. In response, he bit down harder. He felt as though he should have been tasting blood at that point but he was satisfied just biting. The man snickered again at that.

“Okay, okay, you can let go now,” he said, shaking his head gently again. “This does not hurt me whatsoever, but I would really prefer not to go around with a chunk of my hand missing for a while. Kinda gross.” Gross!? The murderous demon responsible for the scene down in the drain would be disgusted by a missing chunk of flesh? Tubbo felt as though his head was spinning with every new thing he heard from the man.

When he didn’t let up with his grip on the hand, the man sighed and started shaking Tubbo’s head harder. “If I wanted you dead now, mouse, you would be. I could snap your neck faster than you could realize you were dead. Want to try it?” The boy heeded the warning in those words and, finally, released the man’s hand. He was prouder than he’d be willing to admit upon seeing the very, very visible teeth marks on the other man’s hand. Facing down immortal, supernatural beings made him appreciate the little damage he was able to do. Speaking of which, a long cut was apparent on the man's cheek now from what Tubbo could only assume was the stake. The monster didn’t seem to be suffering from either of his injuries, but at least the boy was able to do any kind of damage.

“Release me at once,” Tubbo demanded, the fast fading adrenaline giving one last dose of assertion.

“Oh, you know I can’t do that,” the man said. “Surely you know that? You have seen me, seen my crime, seen some of what I can do. Like, you will absolutely go crying to that masked maniac the first chance you get.” Tubbo’s eyes widened.

“You know D-...the masked gentleman?” he asked. The monster snorted and rolled his neck, the resounding crack almost concerning.

“You could say we have history. The man is borderline obsessed with us. Hires all these hunters, basically throws them to the wolves trying to find and get us, rinse and repeat.” The man, still holding Tubbo up with one hand, grabbed the boy's wounded palm with his free hand. Tubbo wasn’t exactly comfortable in this situation, especially after the monster revealed he wasn’t going to be leaving, but he needed to get more information. Besides, he was now exhausted and he didn’t have much say in the matter.

“Wait,” Tubbo grunted, wincing as the man removed a splinter. “Wait, so he’s hunted you before…before you took Tommy?” This earned the man’s attention from his palm. The silvery eyes fixed Tubbo in a skeptical stare, brows furrowed.

“Did he not tell you?” the man asked. Tubbo shook his head. “Wow. Well, uh, yeah. He’s been hunting us for ages. Longer than any human should be able to, at that. Kind of pathetic in my opinion. Like, think about it. What kind of madman do you have to be to consistently bring people into your fold just to sacrifice them in less than a month. Waste of perfectly good personnel if you ask me.”

Tubbo went silent as the man continued to remove splinters from his palms, muttering something about infections as he did so. He didn’t know why the monster was at all bothering with his injuries, but a part of him was far too overwhelmed with this newfound information to care. Dream had a habit of hiring hunters just to sacrifice them during these hunts? That wasn’t at all what he expected. The masked gentleman seemed so organized and thoughtful. He had played chess against him, the man was cunning and strategic. To think he would be so cavalier with people’s lives was just a bit difficult to believe.

Except for the fact he involved Tubbo in the first place. An untrained, grieving, mistreated fourteen year old boy desperate to prove his best friend wasn’t dead.

“Fuck.” The man looked over at Tubbo as the boy spoke. “I am nothing but bait.”

“Mmhm.”