Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy was not paid enough for this shit. He took in a deep breath because he was a big man and he knew how to fucking regulate his emotions… He was going to smash his head into the wall if this damn machine didn’t stop it’s fucking beeping in the next five seconds. He counted down in his head as he let out a long breath.

Five. 

Four. 

Three. 

Two—

The loud beeping noise abruptly stopped and the coffee machine grumbled to life, pouring coffee out a little too happily for Tommy’s taste. Coffee that was now spilling out all over it and onto the floor because, shit Tommy had not placed a cup underneath it. He didn’t expect this thing to actually work. 

Tommy scrambled to find a cup, grabbing the nearest one and shoving it under the stream of coffee. Just as he did, the coffee machine coughed and sputtered before erupting in a dramatic burst of smoke. 

“Oh, fuck you!” he coughed through the smoke, waving it away and completely accidentally smacking the waste-of-space piece of garbage machine as he did. 

It gave a single strident beep.

Tommy looked down at the spilled coffee that was slowly spreading towards his shoes. “Same.”

Needless to say, he was all too happy when the clock struck 9:00, marking the end of his shift.

It took him forty-five more minutes to close after that most of which was spent looking for a mop because who the fuck left the mop in the refrigerator? He needed to have some words with certain people, that is to say a certain incompetent bald bitch ass coworker. Regardless, this meant that Tommy was walking home at an absolutely ungodly hour of the night through his sketchy fucking neighborhood, ducking quickly past the shadier alleyways. Thankfully, the night was quiet and Tommy made it back to his apartment with no more than a rat scurrying past him. 

His apartment building was… lackluster. Or, fine, it was total dump, completely decrepit and falling apart like a damn patchwork quilt at the seams. He was pretty sure the state of the place violated at least seventeen health-and-safety regulations, but hey, rent was cheap and the heater worked most of the time so who was he to complain really.

He pressed the top button in the elevator and it rattled its way up to the tenth floor, shaking him around like it was its own little earthquake. This was the only elevator where handrails made perfect sense to have. The elevator slowed to a stop and dinged pleasantly, the door sliding open about halfway before getting jammed. Tommy released his deathgrip on the railing and kicked it the rest of the way open, muttering curses under his breath.

Finally, ready to reheat some soup and then crash for the night, he made it to his door.

Tommy twisted his keys in the lock and pushed it open. 

As he stepped inside, letting the door gently click shut behind him, his hair stood on end. Not in a creepy ‘I’m-being-watched-by-the-shadows’ kind of way though. It was more of a ‘just-entered-a-bouncy-castle-and-the-static-is-crazy’ type of deal.

Oh and there was a boy standing in his apartment. Tommy blinked. The boy blinked back.

He was blond, about Tommy’s age and wearing a hoodie the most affrontingly intense shade of purple he had ever seen. He stood frozen on top of one of Tommy’s kitchen chairs, arms still outstretched for the top shelves of his living room storage. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Purple Fuck slowly lowered his arms and slouched as casually as one could while standing on top of a chair. “Uhh, home intrusion?”

“Home intru— get down from there you bitch. You can’t just intrude random people’s homes!”

Purple Fuck hopped down from his perch, to his credit looking a little sheepish, and Tommy was immensely pleased to find that he was taller than him by a centimeter or two. 

“How the fuck did you even get in here?”

“Your window was unlocked.”

“This is the tenth floor.”

“Yeah…?”

“…You know what I don’t even care, just get out.”

The boy shrugged, like Tommy was the one being dramatic. “Alright, fine.”

He walked over to Tommy’s window—likely the one he had climbed through in the first place, sliding it open and passed a leg over the edge.

“Woah, woah, what the fuck are you doing?” Tommy yelled, a little panicked.

The boy blinked at him. “Getting out…? Like you told me to do?”

“This is the tenth floor.”

“Yeah…?”

“You know I have a fucking door right? And a perfectly good manky flight of stairs you can take.” He gesticulated wildly to the door, “Why did you scale ten floors of a building just to rob some broke east end kid, man, what the fuck?”

Purple Fuck shrugged. “People who live on higher floors tend not to lock their windows,” he said as if this explained anything at all.

“Get back in here,” Tommy hissed.

“Alright, jeez, make up your mind.” Purple Fuck passed his leg back inside, opting instead to lean against the window frame.

“And close the window, you’re not the one paying for the heating.”

He did so and then turned back, the two facing each other for a very long, very awkward second. Purple Fuck shifted on his feet as he seemed to realize for the first time that he was standing in front of the guy he just tried to rob unsuccessfully. Fucking L.

Tommy sighed, reached behind the TV and flicked on the lights, the room suddenly bathed in a nice glow.

“Ow, my eyes,” Purple Fuck complained, shielding his face dramatically.

“You didn’t turn on the lights before?” Tommy asked skeptically. The more he talked to this guy, the more he was convinced he was the most incompetent criminal in L’Manburg.

“Well, no, I was being stealthy, obviously.”

Tommy crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “You couldn’t find the light switch, could you?”

Purple Fuck threw his arms up. “The only one I could find was the one by the door and that turns on the bathroom, for prime sake! What kind of whackass apartment is this, seriously?”

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” he smirked. “And there’s a light switch in the bathroom but that one only turns the lights off.”

Purple Fuck gasped, horrified.

“The bedroom switch is at the back of a closet.”

He clutched his chest. “No.”

“The kitchen switch is just above the baseboard. Behind the door.”

“This apartment is a nightmare.”

“Agreed.” Tommy let his smile drop and crossed his arms. “Now get the fuck out of my house.”

“Awww,” Purple Fuck protested, “but we were bonding! Over your awful apartment light system!”

Tommy pinch the bridge of his nose and took a breath that came out about as exasperated as he felt. He needed some soup.  

“Who are you anyway?” he asked making his way to the fridge. Damn, he had finished his leftover chicken noodle soup last night.

“Purpled.”

Tommy snorted so hard he almost choked. “What kind of name is Purp— wait, Purpled the vigilante?”

A delighted smile broke out on Purple Fu— ahem, Purpled’s face. “You actually know me?” he asked sounding far, far too excited for someone who, again, had just broken into his home. “Wow, my first fan! I’m going to call my mom, she’s going to be so proud!”

“Wait, wait, aren’t you supposed to keep your secret identity… you know, secret?” Tommy stared at Purpled’s distinctly uncovered face.

There was a long tense pause.

Then Purpled shrugged. “Well, yeah, but it doesn’t help when certain someones come barging in through the door without even knocking.”

“It’s my apartment,” Tommy said, gaping, “Why the fuck would I knock?”

“Besides,” he continued, unaffected, “you won’t snitch, we’re tight now.”

Tommy shook his head, bemused, then frowned. “Wait why the actual fuck are you robbing my apartment then, man? Aren’t you supposed to be fighting crime or some shit?”

“I’m a free spirit,” he said, “And I’m not robbing you, I just needed to find—” he cut himself off abruptly, his mouth clicking shut and he suddenly looked a lot more ‘panicked and caught red-handed’ than he had this entire conversation. “Actually, nevermind I’m robbing you.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You’re not a good robber or a good liar I see. Why are you in my house?”

“No, no, I’m definitely robbing you, I just needed—” His eyes darted around the room, landing on the cluttered mess that was his coffee table. “Uhh, this thing,” he said and snatched up a crudely carved wooden figurine of a bulbous mushroom-like thing. 

“Right,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yep, just desperately needed something just like this to spruce up my apartment, you know. Anyway, whew look at the time I better be going,” he said edging backwards towards the window.

“Hey, where the fuck do you think you’re going with that—”

“Wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome or anything so I’m just going to—” Purpled threw the window open and vaulted out of it. Tommy charged after him but by the time he was leaning over the window sill, Purpled was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere.

“That’s mine, you fuck! Get back here!” he yelled out anyway. “Purpled, you bastard, I’m getting that back, bitch!”

The distant bustle of the city was his only answer. Tommy closed the window with an irritated huff. He put tomato soup on the stove.

Chapter Text

Despite what might be believed, Tommy did actually like his job (except for that evil hellish coffee machine). What he didn’t like was the man who happened to work the same job at the same time and who seemed hellbent on being the most irritating, unhelpful, incompetent coworker to ever exist. That, or Jack was just really bad at his job. Really, really, spectacularly bad at his job.

Behind him he heard Jack curse, and then a deafening crash as what sounded like the entire building collapsing in the next room over. He gave a tight smile to the woman on the other side of the counter, slid her her macchiato and then ducked through the door behind him. 

It had been like this all week ever since Niki brought him in. She had smiled brightly at Tommy and told him that Jack was the new hire and that this would help things run more smoothly around the café.

And everything that had happened since could be described as anything but smooth.

First Jack had short-circuited the entire building (somehow) leaving them all in the dark until Tommy could find the control panel. Then he had spilled a customer’s drink all over them and the next five drinks over himself. Then he had started a small fire in the oven with what was supposed to be a batch of cookies, setting off the sprinklers and causing a minor flood.

He couldn’t seem to remember a single recipe for the life of him, he looked dead on his feet half the time (mood but Tommy had found him asleep in the breakroom multiple times ), and he arrived late the other half of the time. Tommy hadn’t decided which was worse. 

Then there was the mop incident last night and the cream puff incident the night before and the doorbell incident the night before that. So maybe it had only been a week—five days really—since he came in but it had been the longest week of Tommy’s life.

Honestly Tommy had no idea why Niki had hired him in the first place. If he wasn’t so scared of her he would think to question her decision. And her sanity.

“What the fuck, Jack.” Before him, Jack lay buried under an absolute mountain of baking equipment and coffee making supplies. One of the gigantic floor-to-ceiling metal racks that they used as shelving was tipped over on top of him, his shoes sticking out of the pile. “Er, you alright there?” 

A groan came from below the pile. Well, at least he wasn’t dead.

Tommy quickly waded to his side, gripped the side of the shelf and heaved it up. Jack crawled out from underneath, looking worse for wear.

“Yikes, you good?” Tommy dropped the shelf to the ground.

“No,” he croaked, “I think I bruised my spine. And my face. And everything else. I’m going to sit down.”

Jack promptly leaned against the wall and slid to the floor with a pained groan. 

Tommy sighed and began picking up the equipment that was scattered all over the floor. “How did you even do this? Did you try to climb the damn shelf?”

Jack stayed pointedly silent.

Tommy resisted the urge to face palm. “No. Seriously? Jack, mate, I know it’s only your first week but come on.”

“Shhh,” Jack said, “you’re loud.”

Tommy paused, three spatulas in hand. He was usually pretty loud but Jack had never seemed bothered by it before. “Shit, I should probably check you for a concussion. That was a lot of shit that fell on you.”

He crouched down in front of him, fishing out his phone. Jack’s eyes had slipped closed and Tommy prodded him with one of the spatulas until he opened them, frowning irritably. He turned on his flashlight and shined it in his face. Jack slammed his eyes shut again at the glare but Tommy poked him again, “Hey, hey, no, eyes open.”

“Ngh,” said Jack, but he did drag his eyes open. Tommy checked the pupils and, fuuuuck.

“Can you spell your last name backwards?”

“Uhhh D, I… no, D, L, I… uh…”

Tommy huffed. “Okay. Okay, just wait here, I’m going to go get you some ice.”

Tommy clambered over the fallen rack and checked the freezer, relieved to find that they did have ice packs. (And also dust rags? In the freezer? If Jack wasn’t already hurt, Tommy would smack him). He quickly wrapped one, handing it to Jack. 

“Here, put this against your head, or just wherever it hurts. I’m going to call Niki.”

And with that he slipped away, this time ducking into the breakroom.

He dialed Niki and she picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey Niki, we kind of have a problem at the cafe. Jack’s got a concussion.”

“Shit, really? How? What happened?”

“He’s a fucking idiot is what happened.”

“Tommy…”

“He knocked over one of the metal rack shelf things and got caught under it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Like I said, idiot.”

Niki hummed, not in agreement but not in disagreement either. Point to Tommy!

“Should I like, call an ambulance or something?”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Niki replied immediately. “Just– I’ll be right there, I’m on my way. I’ll take care of it. You can just watch over him and close the cafe.”

Yeah, Tommy had kind of figured as much. An ambulance in the East End was all kinds of a bad idea. Still, Tommy had never actually had to deal with a concussed person before so he didn’t really know. It probably wasn’t that serious and Jack would be back on the job on Monday, knowing his luck.

“Alright boss,” he said and Niki ended the call with a quick thanks.

From there Tommy took an immense amount of satisfaction shooing out the customers who were still in line, expressions ranging from impatient to extremely concerned. 

“Sorry folks, we’re closed,” he declared with a winning smile, “Medical emergency. My coworker back there lost a fight with a shelf.”

The crowd shuffled out and Tommy flipped the OPEN sign in the window to CLOSED.

There was a small foam couch in the breakroom that was probably better than sitting on the floor. He slung one of Jack’s arms over his shoulders and hauled him up. They stumbled their way to the couch and Jack flopped onto it slumping miserably. 

“Alright don’t go falling asleep on me and you’ll be fine. Niki’s on her way, she’ll be here soon.”

They only waited about five minutes before the bell over the door tinkled pleasantly, hurried footsteps sweeping through.

“Back here!” he called.

Niki appeared in the doorframe looking like she had just run through a lightning storm, loose strands of hair poking out where they had escaped from her space buns. She was wearing an apron still covered in flour and Tommy really hoped she hadn’t left anything in the oven when she ran off. Getting back home to your building on fire was not poggers.

She spotted Jack and rushed to his side, giving him a quick “Hey, Tommy,” as she passed. “Thanks for calling me,” she continued and knelt down to check Jack for injuries.

“I’m fine, Niki,” Jack grumbled as she checked his pupils.

“You’re not and I don’t want to hear it from you.”

Even in his concussed state Jack could hear the steely edge to Niki’s voice and didn’t dare argue, only groaning in irritation.

After a moment she straightened and sighed, “Alright, it’s not too bad. You need to rest though. Tommy,” she said turning to him, “I’m going to take Jack with me so I can watch over him and make sure he doesn’t accidentally make it any worse for himself.”

Tommy huffed a laugh. “Probably a good call.”

“I’ll help you close up though, Jack can just sit there and wait.”

“Okay, yeah,” Tommy said, moving to stand in the doorway to the storage room. “It might take a while though.”

“Why?” Niki asked before peeking through the door herself and seeing the absolute mess that it was, things strewn everywhere like a hurricane had torn through it. “Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Oh, Jack,” Niki sighed, fond and irritated and a little baffled.

They started picking up the mess, quickly storing things back onto the surviving shelves and clearing up the floor. Tommy had to ask though.

“Uh, Niki, just to check but you don’t have anything sitting in the oven do you? Just, you know, the apron…”

Niki froze. “Shit.”

“...Shit.”

She whirled around, taking a couple rushed steps for the break room before faltering and turning back to Tommy and the mess on the floor, seeming trapped between the two.

“It’s fine, Niki, you gotta go,” Tommy said.

She nodded but her face twisted into an apologetic frown. “Will you be okay closing up on your own? I’m sorry to leave you with all this.”

“Yeah, yeah, you go before your apartment burns down, I got this.”

“Thanks Tommy, I owe you some cookies.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he called to her as she fetched Jack and they whisked out the door.

A mixing bowl tipped off the top of the pile and clattered to the floor, clanging all the way down until it bumped against Tommy’s shoe and spun to a stop. He groaned.

Add that to the tally I guess. 

Fucking Jack Manifold.

…

It was late afternoon when Tommy finally was done sorting out that headache. He was closing up the shutters when he felt a familiar tingle down his spine, like he had been zapped

Superpowers were common in the world, and even more so in a booming city such as L’Manberg. From element manipulation to emotion sensitivity to shapeshifting and just all kinds of other bullshitery. All told, it was actually much more rare to meet someone who didn’t have a power at all.

That being said most superpowers were small and not useless, but certainly nothing earth-shattering. Always knowing what time it was, sharper hearing, a green thumb, and the likes. Just mundane little things that made your life a little easier.

No, and the few who did have earth-shattering powers, well, most of them were locked away in Pandora’s Vault, and the rest were the heroes who put them there.

Those ones ranged from explosions that could level the entire city in one go to mind control to whatever the fuck Blink did.

But apparently, Tommy’s superpower came with a little more… personality.

“Hey, Tommy,” came a teasing lilt behind him. He sighed, firmly twisting the key in the lock before turning around.

“Hey, Drista,” he gave a little wave. “Didn’t see much of you today.”

“Oh, well you know, I’m a busy woman.”

“Right…”

He eyed her skeptically. She was in her human form, though floating a couple inches off the ground, dressed casually in brown pants and a green hoodie, her hair twisted into braids. Her bone-white mask was pulled over her face, a mock-frown etched into it. Tommy often joked that she had to be the least classy ghost in the world. She would laugh and say ‘not a ghost’ but then refuse to elaborate further. It was weird. 

“You didn’t call last night,” she said after a beat.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I had a… problem,” he said and started down the street. “Is that what was up today, you were sulking?”

Thankfully the streets were pretty much void of people and no one would see him talking to thin air like a lunatic. He had learned a long time ago that no one else could see the specters.

“I wasn’t sulking, I just have a life,” she huffed, following after him.

“I’m sure, haunting all the other poor lads that happen to see ghosts.”

“Not a ghost,” she smirked. “And you literally could have called me anytime.”

“Yeah, about that… I might need your help with something.”

“Oh no, what did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” he protested, “I was robbed! I’m the victim here.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” she said. Wow. Rude. Tommy was the biggest, poggest man ever, he would never get into trouble.

“No, I really didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Some fucker broke into my apartment and stole the talisman.”

“Oh.” Then she laughed, high and shrill and breathless. “Why? It’s basically a piece of junk.”

Tommy gasped in offense, “Excuse me, it’s a work of art.”

“It looks like a mushroom.”

“I was eight! It’s interpretive art!”

“Oh yes, my apologies,” she said with a ridiculous bow that turned into a flip as she rolled forward.

Tommy scowled at her. “My talents are wasted on you.”

Drista perked up suddenly, “Hey does that mean you can make me a new one now? Since you lost the old one? Maybe one that’s less bulbous? I want a dragon.”

“My tree was not bulbous, and you know that’s not how it works. And I wouldn’t make you a dragon anyway.”

Drista huffed. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun. You just bring out the worst in me.”

“And yet you still want me to help you find your talisman,” she said slyly.

Fuck, she got him. “Yes. Please.”

Drista sighed, floating on her back and following alongside him. “Alright. But only because I happen to like you. Do you know who robbed you?”

Tommy grinned. “Yes actually. You know Purpled, the vigilante? Yeah, he’s a fucking prick.”

Drista straightened at the name. “Oh… Interesting,” was all she said before winking out of existence. Tommy blinked at the empty space where she had just been. Well fucking alright then, good talk.

Thankfully he hadn’t even made it to the end of the street when she appeared at his side again, twirling a coin between her fingers and just oozing smug satisfaction. “Yeah, that won’t be a problem then,” she said, “We can just go pick it up tomorrow.”

Tommy just barely kept himself from gaping at her. “What?”

“Purpled,” she said, “We’ll just go get your talisman back from him.”

“Right. Purpled. The vigilante. We’ll just pop by and ask for it back.”

Tommy could tell she was fucking grinning behind the mask. “Yep!”

He crossed his arms. “No way, I have work tomorrow. And if Jack’s injured then Niki’s already short staffed.”

“Niki won’t let you work on your own like that. She’ll probably call you in like ten minutes and say the cafe stays closed tomorrow.”

Dammit, she was right.

“Hm, we’ll see.”

“If you don’t have work we’re going,” Drista said with an air of finality that Tommy shoved her for. Not exactly successfully but it was the thought that mattered.

“I don’t answer to you, dickhead.”

“We’re goiiing,” she sang, twisting away.

“Alright, fine, if Niki calls.”

Ten minutes later on the dot, his phone rang. Tommy checked the caller and cursed.

…

When Tommy made it back to his apartment that afternoon, he opened the door only to immediately slam it shut again.

No. Fuck right off. Again? 

“Did I just see what I think I saw?” he muttered to Drista, who just shrugged. Helpful as ever.

He took a deep breath and opened it again. There was a girl in his apartment. For fuck’s sake.

She was tall, wearing combat boots with heels that did not help his case and a cute summery dress, silky brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She turned to him as he stepped inside, sharp eyes pinning him in place. Half her face was obscured by a blood red mask, so Tommy could at least say that she was smarter than Purpled. Not that that said very much. And she had wings. Delicate fairy-like wings sprouted from her back, slightly translucent and twitching faintly.

She looked straight out of a story book. Except Tommy was pretty sure that fairies weren’t supposed to feel so threatening.

She tapped her nails against her arm irritably as she studied him. “You’re early,” she said simply.

No, okay fuck this. What the fuck was going on. 

“And you’re not welcome here,” he snapped. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here until later,” she frowned, ignoring him completely. 

“Oh, you want to talk about not supposed to be here, dickhead? This is my apartment!”  

She just rolled her eyes, tapping her nails again. They were the same blood red as her mask, long and sharp and Tommy was more than a little off-put. He flicked on the lights, trying his best not to show his uneasiness and using the opportunity to turn away for a moment.

Seriously she was scary. Purpled had been much more chill.

“Who are you?” he asked, “And why are you in my house?”

“Her name is Hannah,” Drista chimed in next to him, peering at her closely. She swooped in closer, circling the girl and playfully batting at her wings. Her hands went right through of course but it did help Tommy feel less on edge. Drista’s antics rather undercut Hannah’s cool threatening aura.

You know her? he signed discreetly. Drista knew lots of things, lots of strange, secretive things that she definitely should not know and definitely should not tell Tommy about, not that that had ever stopped her. But he was still surprised. She didn’t usually recognize people.

At the same time Hannah shrugged and said, “That’s none of your concern.”

“Ugh, seriously you people have no manners. If you’re going to bust into my apartment and snoop around the least you could do is introduce yourself when I catch you red-handed!”

Drista zipped back to his side. She pulled her mask to the side of her face and grinned wide and unruly. “Oh yeah, I know all about this one. She’s quite the troublemaker.”

Tommy had a feeling troublemaker wasn’t the right term so much as fucking criminal or some shit.

Hannah checked her nails completely unbothered. “Believe me, you don’t want to know who I am,” she said.

There was something chilling about her tone but Tommy was the king of ignoring blaring alarm bells. “Yeah, yeah I get it, that would totally ruin your mysterious evil vibe or whatever. You’re doing great with that by the way, Hannah.”

Hannah stiffened. Her wings fluttered agitatedly behind her, spasming like she had been electrified. Her piercing gaze fell on him again full-force, amber eyes sparking menacingly. 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “So can you like fucking leave now? You’re kind of in my space and I don’t want you here.”

“How do you know my name?”

Oops, Hannah was not happy.

“Er, the voices and shit, innit.”

Hannah blinked but quickly shook off her confusion, the rage returning to her eyes. Double oops she was even less happy. In fact now she looked like she wanted to eviscerate him with her bare hands. Yikes, Purpled had definitely been more chill.

If she had been threatening before it was nothing compared to now. Hannah stalked towards him, her wings arching behind her to take up more space, eyes narrowed dangerously and jaw tight. 

She grabbed his forearm in a steel grip, her blood red nails digging into his skin. 

“No one knows that name. How do you know that name.”

He shot a pleading ‘help me out’ look to Drista over Hannah’s shoulder and she rolled her eyes at him. Which was incredibly unfair given it was her fucking fault Hannah was mad in the first place.

“I– uhhh.” 

Yep, great answer, Tommy. She’ll totally agree not to murder you now. 

“Well, you’re wrong anyway,” she hissed lowly, a thinly veiled threat in the venom coating her words, “my name is Thornrose.”

Thornrose. Tommy’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. The Rose Killer. Ohhh shit.

Tommy suddenly looked down at where she grabbed his arm with a lot more alarm. Thornrose was a vigilante who was rather firmly on the wrong side of the law, infamous for her… talents. Talents that involved people disappearing without a trace and then mystery corpses washing up on the east bank of the river some days later with poison laced through their veins.

Hannah’s nails hadn’t broken skin but Tommy was certain they were coated in something deadly and he would be gone with one squeeze.

And Tommy had called her a dickhead. 

Shit.

Although to be fair, he was fucking right.

“What the fuck,” he hissed, mostly to Drista but Hannah who had no way of knowing that leaned impossibly closer, her amber wheat-field eyes sparking.

“You didn’t know that,” she mused, sounding more intrigued than actually asking him a question.

“No I didn’t fucking know that!” Tommy answered anyway. “What the fuck! Let go of my arm!”

“Well if you didn’t know that, how did you know my name?” she asked, annoyingly not letting go of his arm.

Tommy would tentatively say she didn’t look quite so murderous anymore but he would still appreciate a bit of personal space right now.

“I told you, the fucking voices.”

Drista facepalmed behind Hannah and Tommy glowered at her, wishing his arm was free but this time so he could flip her off.

“You didn’t have to put it like that,” Drista complained, “Now she’s going to think you’re crazy.”

Tommy made a face at her as subtly as he could pull off.

“For your own sake I’d advise not to play dumb with me,” Hannah hissed.

“I’m not,” he snapped, although maybe he was a little bit, sue him. “I just knew, I don’t fucking know.”

Hannah looked at him pensively. “Is that your power then? Intuitive knowledge of people’s names or something?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know it’s rude as fuck to ask about someone’s powers, lady.”

It was more than rude. It was one of the few things that the people of the east side, whether villains, vigilantes or civilians, held themselves to. Although in this case Hannah jumping to her own conclusions was pretty helpful to the ‘Tommy not ending up murdered’ agenda.

Hannah hummed, unimpressed, but she seemed considerably calmer as she (finally) drew back. Tommy backed away as soon as he was released and put another few steps of space between them. Hannah wasn’t exactly right about his powers, but hey if that was what she wanted to believe he was not going to argue.

They stared each other down for a second before Tommy who felt a lot more confident now that she wasn’t looming right over him snapped, “So now can you leave?”

Hannah’s wings bristled but other than that she remained unnaturally still. “Actually,” she said, her voice laced with honeyed venom, “I wasn’t quite done looking.”

Tommy glared at her as he marched to the front door. It was a little hard to do because he was standing between the two and he had to twist his neck around and practically walk backwards to do it. He ran into the wall and ignored Drista’s snickering. 

“Respectfully, I don’t give a fuck,” he said abruptly and threw the door open. “Out. Now."

She looked down her nose at him, crossing her arms contemptuously as though she just couldn’t believe what he was asking her to do. Which by the way was a perfectly reasonable request.

“I’m not going out through there,” she said wrinkling her nose. “The building might collapse on me.”

“Well… the chances are very low. Pretty low. And either way I don’t care, get the fuck out of my place, Prime.”

“No way, if I leave, I’m going through the window.”

“Oh, fucking you too? What is wrong with the vigilantes around here?”

Tommy rolled his eyes but went to the window. At least Hannah actually had wings and it kind of made sense that she would go through there. Purpled however had no excuse.

Now, he had definitely locked it yesterday after his bewildering conversation with Purpled but he found it unlocked.

“Oh fuck off, my locks!” he complained. “I locked my windows, what the fuck man!”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you did. Usually people don’t bother. You’re on the tenth floor it seems unnecessary.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Although clearly it didn’t do me much good to lock them either.” He shot her another reproachful glare that she didn’t so much as acknowledge.

Hannah scoffed, “Well of course, picking that was child’s play, who do you think I am.”

“Fucking Thornrose, apparently,” Tommy muttered to himself. Judging by her glare it wasn’t quite as to himself as he had meant though.

She hummed. “Well just be glad I didn’t break it instead.”

He could not believe the audacity.

Drista made a face at her and bapped her on the forehead, Tommy just barely managing to disguise his giggles as a cough.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you came in through the window, you’re just as bad as Purpled! Seriously, does a door mean nothing to you people?”

Hannah stiffened. “Purpled was here?”

Uh oh, maybe Tommy shouldn’t have said that. “Uhhh.”

She stepped up towards him and Tommy suddenly wished he wasn’t standing next to an open window ten stories off the ground. 

“Purpled was here?” she repeated, her eyes impossibly sharp and boring down into him, glittering dangerously with an intensity that could melt gold.

“Uh, did I say Purpled? No, not Purpled, um my Purpled, a different one, definitely not whoever you’re thinking of, just, uh, a friend.”

Hannah loomed over him as he held up his hands placatingly. “Why was he here?” she thundered.

Tommy met her eyes, his nervous rambling falling dead on his lips.

Tommy was wrong. Hannah’s eyes weren’t the golden-amber of a wheat field in the summer; they were red, pulsing crimson from the depths of her pupils. 

Something shifted in the air. Something was wrong. Deeply, deeply wrong.

He shuddered despite himself, feeling his knees go weak. The words dragged themselves from his throat like a trawl net across the bottom of the ocean. “He was… looking for something. I don’t know what.”

Her eyes crinkled in a smile and Tommy’s stomach turned at the sight. That’s not Hannah, he thought, his heart hammering in his chest, it’s not her anymore. Neither of them had moved but somehow she seemed to be getting closer, those red eyes swallowing his field of vision. 

Drista’s hands gripping his shoulders were like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. Suddenly she was there, crammed between him and Hannah, concern and confusion all over her face. “Tommy?”

Tommy took a gasping breath and lurched away, scrambling to the other side of the room.

That was… Tommy didn’t like that.

“What the fuck,” he gasped, “What the fuck was that!”

Hannah blinked, eyebrows scrunching in confusion and clutched a hand to her head. “What…” she said, sounding just as dazed.

“Nah, that’s it, what the fuck! If you ever do that again I’ll fucking stab you!”

“That’s– that was–” Her eyes went wide, amber. And then she crumpled to the ground, her knees buckling under her as she passed out. 

What the fuck?

Hannah didn’t move.

“Hannah?” he called.

She remained lying on the floor. 

“Drista, what the fuck was that, do you know?”

Silence was his only answer and Tommy turned to find that Drista was gone. Well that was kind of a shit time to leave him, he thought glancing from the empty room to the still body on the floor.

Even her wings were completely still now and that was what had Tommy edging closer. He nudged Hannah’s side with his shoe and she didn’t so much as twitch.

Oh, come on, two injuries in one day, what was his luck?

He nudged her again but she really did seem completely out of it so Tommy crouched down next to her. And then… well he wasn’t too sure. What was the protocol for when a known vigilante who had broken into your home and also maybe just tried to kill you a few times passed out in your apartment?

He really wished she had just left when he asked her to.

Well, he wasn’t just going to leave her on the floor (even if she had been kind of a dick), so Tommy grabbed her ankles and dragged her over to the couch (he was not going to acknowledge the various weapons he could feel stashed in her boots). He gently and carefully put her down on the couch (hauled her like a sack of potatoes) and then crossed his arms to glare at her.

It was a lot less effective when she was unconscious, he had to say. Probably a lot safer though, so Tommy took the win as it was.

“Drista!” he yelled, knowing she couldn’t hear him, and that even if she could she wouldn’t come unless she wanted to. And apparently she didn’t fucking want to anymore. “What was that!”

Drista would know. There was no way she didn’t. If she was choosing not to tell him though, well that above all else made Tommy nervous. 

He huffed at the silence. He’d have to badger her for answers later.

For now he had the other rather pressing problem of Thornrose knocked out on his couch.

Tommy stared at her. She did absolutely nothing.

Tommy stared at her more. She did more of absolutely nothing.

Tommy… was already incredibly bored. And hungry, now that he thought about it.

Hmmm, well when in doubt… soup!

Tommy really wanted some soup. And she was being very boring right now. Plus surely she’d be less cranky if he had soup to offer her when she eventually (hopefully soon) woke up.

Yes! What a brilliant TommyInnit original idea!

Soup.

With his mind made up about that, Tommy waltzed into the kitchen and checked his cupboards. Ah, perfect, there was a can of mushroom soup that would do wonderfully.

He put it on the stove and cut up some chicken he had left over as it heated, adding it in. He hoped Hannah liked soup otherwise they were going to have some fucking problems. Or, more than they had now at least.

Prime, he did hope she was okay, and not only because she was currently a gigantic inconvenience.

When Tommy marched back into the living room ten minutes later, bowl in hand though, all he found an open window and a very empty couch.

He blinked at the couch, half expecting to find Hannah lying there when his eyes flickered open again. But no, the vigilante was gone.

Tommy closed the window and ate his damn soup. He put the extra in the fridge. 

Chapter Text

“We’re not breaking in.”

“We totally could though it would be really funny.”

“We’re not breaking in.”

“Aww, but he broke into your place first.”

“Yeah and I’m not a wrong’un so we’re going to knock.”

“Fineee.” Drista rolled her eyes dramatically and sank into the ground in defeat. She popped right back up the next second, this time with orange dragon horns curled on her head and batting at his legs. She couldn’t actually trip him but the cold unnatural sensation of her hands going through him sent him stumbling anyway. 

Tommy kicked at her and received a sideways glance from a man walking past. 

“We’re hereee!” Drista sang, whizzing to the front of a building. Tommy followed her, more slowly, and looked up at the apartment complex. It looked… perfectly ordinary. Kind of old, kind of dirty. The only notable and slightly odd thing about it was that despite this being the east, it sported the typical west end copper spike down the length of it. 

That was a little strange, it must date back to when Tempest patrolled around the east side of the city as well as the west. These days, she never crossed the river anymore.

The spikes were an accommodation that had been added to almost every building—and especially apartment complex—in the west end, following the discovery and subsequent rise to fame of the hero Tempest and her powers. Or rather the discovery of the potential uses of her powers, if given the right tools. The idea was that she could shock any unsuspecting villain or criminal with a well placed lightning strike, even in the comfort of their own home, thus making capture easy and the streets of the area safer. The reality of the situation was that people lived in fear.

There was a reason why the number of vigilantes had plummeted so catastrophically in the past few years. He shook away his thoughts, forcing the scowl off his face.

“Okay, you’re sure it’s this one?”

“Yep, let’s go kill this guy!” Drista cheered.

She was joking…

Yeah, Tommy wasn’t too sure about this plan.

Drista had led him straight here, advocating for breaking and entering the whole way, which while yes it would be incredibly funny, Tommy refused to stoop to that level. Fucking prick that Purpled was, Tommy was better than that. She had also pointedly ignored all questions about the weird Hannah thing that had happened yesterday and Tommy had given up getting anything out of her. She was impossibly stubborn when she wanted to be.

“You’re sure he’s at home?” he asked. It would be pretty awkward to just stand in front of his door and get no reply.

Drista phased through the door and disappeared. Tommy waited in front of the door until she reemerged a moment later with a wide grin. “Yep, he sure is!” she replied. 

And Tommy definitely trusted that grin, yeah, absolutely. When did Drista ever lie?

“Ugh, alright fine, let’s just do this I guess.”

He went to open the door, but it only shook in its frame. Hm, most apartment buildings in the east side didn’t have locks, or if they did they certainly didn’t fucking work. Prime knew the last time Tommy’s building had seen a lock was probably never.

“A little help here?” he nudged Drista.

She frowned at him, “It’s a push door, Tommy.”

“Oh.”

He pushed at the handle and the door opened smoothly (if a little creakily, but who was he to judge). He stepped inside and eyed the elevator warily. Those things were evil creations made by an evil higher being to instill the fear of death in humans. “What floor?”

“Fourth.”

“Yeah, I’ll take the stairs.”

Mercifully, the stairwell was in decent shape, with only minimal amounts of black mold in the corners and mystery stains on the walls. The walls in Tommy’s building were made of mystery stains so this was a dramatic improvement.

On the fourth floor, Drista led him down the hallway, stopping in front of a nondescript door and spinning right through it. Tommy paused, hesitating only a second before knocking.

He waited.

Tommy knocked again, more insistently.

The door stayed stubbornly shut, not even shuffling coming from the other side.

If Purpled wasn’t actually here he was going to murder Drista.

He hammered on the door.

It swung open suddenly and Tommy almost hit Purpled in the face, only managing to stop himself by rearing backwards so sharply he almost fell back.

A disgruntled looking Purpled glowered at him from the doorframe, looking dead on his feet, bleary eyed and hair sticking out in all directions. He was wearing another god-awful purple hoodie and Tommy wondered if he knew he was allowed to wear other things. At least this one had a cute little UFO embroidered on it.

“Hey, bitch!”

Purpled rubbed one eye sleepily and squinted at Tommy. “Huh?”

“Remember me?”

Purpled’s gears were turning slowly, Tommy could almost hear them creaking. “Kinda hard to forget,” he muttered finally. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh how the turn fucking tables, let me in, bitch.”

Purpled’s brain must have really still been asleep because he stepped to the side without a word, blinking with bleary confusion. Tommy marched inside, turning to him with his hands on his hips.

“You’re a dirty, dirty thief Purpled.”

Purpled groaned. “It’s too early for this. Give me a second,” he grumbled and lumbered off into his apartment. Tommy grinned.

Well if that’s all it took this is going to be a piece of cake. 

He spotted Drista who had apparently made herself comfortable inside, now in a snake form she was particularly fond of, with beady eyes and sharp fangs, a diamond pattern smattered down the length of her scales. She was curled around the lampshade on the ceiling, looking awfully smug.

“You could have fucking warned me he was asleep,” he whispered. She didn’t answer, but somehow managed to look even more smug.

Purpled came back with a cup of coffee in hand and collapsed on the couch. 

Or maybe not.

Tommy marched over and stood in front of him, arms crossed, and put on his best intimidating stare. Purpled, not the least bit phased, took a sip of his coffee.

“Did you have to come so early in the morning?” he grumbled, “You woke me up.”

“Wha— it’s like eleven!”

“Yeah, and I’m a vigilante. I was out vigilante-ing last night, prick.”

Tommy lightly kicked his shin. “I don’t see how that’s my fault. And apparently your ‘vigilante-ing’ is just breaking into people’s apartments and stealing their shit.”

“Nah, that was a one time thing,” Purpled smirked, “Although I didn’t find it so you may be getting other visitors. Sorry.” 

He did look actually apologetic at least. Or maybe he was just falling asleep again, it was hard to tell. 

Tommy watched in careful scrutiny as Purpled’s eyes unfocused and drooped closed, and then in utter gleeful bafflement as his face slowly dropped in his mug. Nevermind, it was very easy to tell. That bastard wasn’t sorry at all.

“Yeah like fucking Thornrose,” Tommy muttered.

Drista dropped from the lamp right onto Purpled’s head and he jerked upright, coffee dripping from his nose. “Huh?"

“Nothing.”

Drista slithered onto the arm of the couch. I liked her, she mused. 

Tommy glared at her. “I’ll bite you.”

Purpled blinked and belatedly wiped his face with his sleeve. “It’s too early for this,” he groaned.

“It’s literally not.”

“I shouldn’t be awake at a time like this.”

“Stop whining.”

“The sleeping world calls me.”

He gazed down into his mug for a long moment, and without warning, tipped it over and chugged the whole thing in one go.

Tommy watched with wide horrified eyes as he guzzled it down like it was the last liquid left on earth.

“...What the fuck.”

Purpled looked up casually like he hadn’t just done the most affronting, revolting thing imaginable. “What?”

“That was disgusting, never do that again.”

“That’s how I drink all my coffee,” he said confused.

“Never. Again.”

“But how else am I supposed to wake up in the morning?”

“Or I’m stealing your fucking coffee pot you savage.”

Purpled gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Fucking try me.”

“...You’re evil.”

Tommy grinned. He was about to answer when Drista hissed. He looked over and found that she was no longer on the couch, and instead was floating up to a strange box on the ceiling, circling it curiously. Tommy looked more closely, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. 

“Purpled, there’s a fish tank on your ceiling.”

Purpled glanced up at the water tank, not the least bit surprised. “Yeah.”

“...Why is there a fish tank on your ceiling?”

Purpled gave him a puzzled look “Well for my fish to live in, idiot. I wasn’t going to put him in the sink.”

“Why is it on the ceiling?”

“Oh, it kind of got stuck up there a while ago and I haven’t been able to get it back down. It’s okay though, DogChamp is doing fine in there.”

A goldfish swam up to the glass, upside down. Drista leered at it hungrily but of course it stared right through her.

“DogChamp, the fish.”

“Yeah, what else?”

“...A dog?”

Purpled stared at him blankly.

“Nevermind,” Tommy sighed. “I don’t think fish are supposed to be upside down, you know. Don’t they like, die?”

“Nah, he’s fine. DogChamp is just quirky like that.”

“DogChamp blink twice if you need help,” Tommy called.

“Fish can’t blink, dumbass, they don’t have eyelids.”

“Yeah well, I don’t know, maybe his quirkiness extends to eyelids.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, that’s the ridiculous part in all of this?”

Purpled batted him away. “He’s fine. I’d be worried if he was swimming upright, if anything.”

Tommy stared at him. Purpled stared right back. “You’re fucking weird you know.”

“Wha— you’re the one saying stupid shit!” he protested.

“I’m the one—” Tommy repeated disbelievingly, “Your fish needs medical attention.”

“Your face needs medical attention.”

“Oh well your—”

“ANYWAY,” Purpled cut him off, “As nice as it is to have you bully me in my own home at the crack of dawn—”

“It’s almost noon—”

“Why are you here?”

Tommy grinned with all his teeth. “Oh Purpled, I’m so glad you asked.”

Purpled sighed. “I’m going to need more coffee for this,” he said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Absolutely not.”

…

Ten minutes later they were down on the street, in a back alley off of Purpled’s building, staring down a couple of dumpsters.

“Well…” Tommy prodded.

“I’m preparing,” Purpled snapped, staying completely still.

“Preparing how, exactly?”

“I’m mentally preparing, you fuck.”

“Oh, this is going to be great,” Drista said gleefully, leaning on the opposite wall of the alley. She was back to her mostly-human form, the mask pulled to the side of her face marked with an XD.

“Well it’s your fucking fault you threw it away, this is just the consequences of your actions, bitch.”

“Of course I just happened to snatch up the one piece of junk you’re impossibly attached to. Just my luck,” Purpled muttered.

“It’s literally of immeasurable value.”

“It’s a chunk of wood.”

“Sentimental value.”

Purpled groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

Tommy grinned brightly at him and flicked his forehead. “What, you’ve never been dumpster diving before?” he mocked. He went up to one of the dumpsters and lifted the lid, peeking inside. 

“Can’t say I have,” he replied sullenly.

“Trash gremlin,” Drista jeered. Not fair, Tommy liked trash a normal amount. It wasn’t his fault if sometimes he just looked through it.

Tommy shrugged and let the lid fall, hoisting himself up on top of it and sitting down cross-legged. “Well there’s a first for everything, get to it.”

“You’re not going to help me?” Purpled challenged, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Nope,” Tommy said popping the ‘p’ as he settled his back against the wall. Purpled glared at him but moved to the other dumpster, opening it up. 

“Eugh, this is gross,” he complained. “This is my nicest hoodie you know.”

Tommy seriously doubted that. Or if it was then he never wanted to see Purpled’s wardrobe. His eyes may never recover.

“Yeah well next time don’t throw away my shit,” Tommy sniffed. “No, actually don’t steal my shit in the first place.”

Purpled glanced inside, poking disgustedly at a piece of cardboard. “I guess I’m actually doing this,” he sighed. He lifted a bag out of the dumpster, setting it down on the pavement, and opened it gingerly, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “You fucking owe me after this.”

And with that he stuck his hand inside and began rummaging around the garbage, pulling out things at random. 

It was… pretty fucking gross yeah, but this was Purpled’s own doing so Tommy didn’t feel too bad about it. Maybe a little bit bad when he pulled out a molding piece of zucchini that stuck to his hand when he tried to let it go. 

“I should’ve worn a fucking hazmat suit,” he said, trying not to gag.

“Do you have a hazmat suit?” Tommy asked curiously.

“Yeah, it came with the apartment.”

“Oh. That’s mildly concerning.”

“Yeah well, I haven’t needed to use it yet so it’s alright.”

Tommy wondered where his hazmat suit apartment deal was, it would have come in handy a few times already.

“Who eats that many carrots?” he asked, pointing at the obscene amount of carrot peels peeking out of the garbage bag.

Purpled shoulders hiked up to his ears and he held the bag’s opening closer to his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Look, WikiHow said to eat a lot of carrots if you want to be a vigilante. It gives you better night vision,” he said defensively.

Tommy burst out laughing. “You can already see in the dark, dumbass!”

“Because I eat carrots!”’

“You’re a hybrid, you MORON—”

They went on, Purpled complaining literally every five seconds and Tommy poking fun at him from the top of his dumpster every time he did. They went through five trash bags like this and Tommy was starting to worry that Purpled’s good will would break soon.

It was when Purpled hauled the sixth bag out of the dumpster that Tommy noticed something glinting golden at the bottom of the bin under some other loose garbage. Ooh, shiny!

It wasn’t what they were here for but Tommy wasn’t going to say no to a little dumpster treasure.

He leaned forward and reached into Purpled’s dumpster, balancing precariously on the edge of his own. His fingers were almost brushing the shiny thing when Drista shouted right in his ear and pressed cold fingers against the back of his neck. Tommy definitely did not yelp in surprise and definitely did not lose his balance and tip face first inside, the lid clattering shut over him.

He lifted the lid up and emerged from the trash to both Purpled and Drista laughing their asses off. He tried to glare at both of them at once, which, judging by the way Purpled doubled over again, hands clutched around his stomach as he wheezed with laughter, was not very effective. As he was bent over, Tommy shot a ‘I’m going to fucking murder you’ look at Drista who was now sitting contentendly on top of the dumpster where he had been, and she smirked and stuck her tongue out at him. 

“How the fuck did you do that?” Purpled gasped between his cackles. “I look away for two seconds—”

“Not a word.”

“Oh my fucking god, you’re such a dumbass!”

“I hope you knock over a shelf onto your head and get a concussion, dickhead.”

Purpled took a few moments to get his cackling under control, Tommy glaring daggers at him the whole time and then scrunched up his face in confusion, tilting his head. “That sounds pretty unlikely.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Purpled opened his mouth to answer but Tommy reached into the loose trash he was standing in and flicked a pizza crust at his head. “Less talking, more looking, prick.”

“Eww,” he protested, rubbing his forehead, “that’s gross, what the fuck!”

“It’s a first class delicacy, what do you even know?”

“...I can’t tell if you’re serious.”

Tommy smiled and raised another crust threateningly.

“Alright, alright,” Purpled said turning back to the dumpster. “I don’t think you can talk about first class anything while standing in a garbage dump though.”

Tommy threw the pizza crust and it landed in Purpled’s hood. Ha, he’d have a fun surprise when he got home.

“And I really don’t think that little piece of wood is worth all this,” he continued, oblivious. “I could literally make you another one in like 20 seconds.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Drista nodded swinging her legs. “And it could be a dragon.” Small scaly wings sprouted from her back, flapping once before she tucked them closed.

“No,” Tommy said to both of them, “Sentimental value. And no dragons.”

“Dragons?” Purpled asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Purpled shook his head and turned back to the trash. Tommy suddenly swiveled his head to Drista. “Hey, hold on a minute!”

“What?” Purpled asked, glancing up hopefully, “Did you find it? Can I stop? Is this torture finally over?”

“No, not you, I was just thinking.”

He pouted unhappily and pulled out a can of soup from the bag.

Ah, people of taste, Tommy nodded solemnly.

Couldn’t you check what bag it’s in? He signed to Drista once he was sure Purpled had turned away. Do you already know?

The stupid snickering look on her face told him everything he needed to know. Drista! he admonished, glaring at her.

“It was funny,” she cackled. “Look at him!”

Purpled hefted the bag to the side, closing it back up and carrying it over to where he had put the other bags he had searched through. A banana peel fell from the bag as he picked it up and landed on his leg. He yelped and flailed around trying to unstick it, unsuccessfully, and finally leaned over and plucked it from his leg with a mournful sigh.

Drista, he scolded again, smothering his own laughter. Which bag is it?

“Alright, alright, it’s that one,” she rolled her eyes, pointing to one of the trash bags still untouched. “You never let me have any fun.”

Yeah because your idea of fun is just chaos everywhere.

“Yeah, that’s the dream,” she sighed wistfully.

“Take this one next,” Tommy said to Purpled who was approaching the dumpster, deciding to ignore that. 

Purpled eyed him suspiciously, glancing from the bag to Tommy. “Why? You’re suddenly helping me now?”

“Nope, not helping, you’re still doing the work, bitch,” he grinned and held it out to Purpled.

“Asshole.”

“Thieving dick.”

“Slacker fuck.”

They glared at each other.

“...Alright fine,” Purpled sighed and grabbed the bag.

He set it down, kneeling next to it and opened it. His eyes immediately snapped up to Tommy. Slowly, he reached in a hand and pulled out Tommy’s tree carving, holding eye contact the whole time. It looked a little more damp than before (for reasons he DID NOT want to know) but Tommy would just scrub it with some dish soap and it would be fine.

“How the fuck did you know?” Purpled asked, eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t.”

“Like fuck you didn’t.”

“It was a guess!”

“What kind of stupid ass all-knowing guess was that!”

“A really awesome super pog one!”

“You let me look through trash for half an hour and you knew where it was the whole time!”

“It was a guess!”

Purpled tossed the carving at Tommy’s head gently and kindly and not at all like he was trying to knock him unconscious with it. Tommy fumbled to catch it but managed to snatch it out of the air before it could put a hole through his skull. When his hand closed around it, he felt like an electric discharge accidentally sent into it from his palm, the carving sparking golden where it touched his skin. Oops, he didn’t mean to do that. Oh well, Drista would be happy.

Which usually wasn’t a good thing, but hey.

Tommy clambered out of the dumpster, jumping down to the pavement to find Purpled blinking at Drista.

“...Tommy,” he said carefully. “Is that an iguana on the dumpster?”

Tommy looked and, yep sure enough. Couldn’t she have morphed into a rat or an alley cat or something? Seriously, what is wrong with her.

“Yep, looks like it,” he answered.

The iguana blinked asynchronously.

“How the fuck did it get here?”

“She’s been here the whole time, but don’t mind her, she’s a fucking dick,” Tommy said rolling his eyes.

“She’s been here the whole time?” Purpled gaped. 

Drista flicked her tongue out, like a snake, and somehow managed to make it look threatening.

Purpled swallowed nervously. “We should go. Wouldn’t want to bother her.”

“Oh yeah, wouldn’t want us to bother her,” Tommy said glaring at her. She smiled.

“Yep, alright, time to go,” Purpled said, taking Tommy’s arm and dragging him away. “I don’t want to find out what death by iguana looks like, we’re leaving.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy muttered. 

They made it out onto the street together and Tommy didn’t miss the dove that flew out of the alleyway a few seconds later and perched on a streetlight.

Purpled stopped in front of his building, turning back. “Well…”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you and all that,” Tommy said waving the carving through the air. “You should go shower. You stink.”

Purpled shoved him, “And who’s fucking fault is that?”

“Yours,” Tommy deadpanned. “Entirely.”

“Whatever,” Purpled rolled his eyes, “Bye, Tommy.”

“Bye!” 

Purpled turned to the door of his building but suddenly paused, and the whirled back around. “Hey, hold on,” he said his eyes shooting wide, “How the fuck did you know where I live!”

“Uhh, bye Purpled!” Tommy yelled and took off. 

“Tommy!”

“See you around!” he called over his shoulder, angry shouts following him as he booked it down the street.

He slowed to a jog at the end of the street when a lady gave him a particularly offended look as he careened around her. He didn’t bother to wipe the grin off his face. He looked down at the little tree in his hand and tucked it in his pocket happily.

He should probably go shower as well, he had just spent ten minutes standing inside a dumpster.

It was only much later when Tommy was back at his apartment that he fished into his pocket again and, feeling something small and circular, remembered the shiny thing inside the dumpster. Right, he had grabbed it and shoved it in his pocket, and hadn’t given it a thought since. He pulled it out to examine it. It was a golden poker chip, a smiling face on one side and a frowning one on the other.

Huh, well this wasn’t the strangest trinket he had ever pulled from a dumpster. And it was shiny! Tommy wondered if it was valuable. He shrugged and set it down on the coffee table.

…

Once was an event, twice was a coincidence, three times Tommy was going to bash someone over the head with a frying pan.

He paused in front of the stove where he was cooking, listening closely to the scuffling sounds coming from the living room. Tommy recognized the swish of his window sliding open, and then voices filtering through the doorway.

This had to be some kind of fucking joke. I’m gonna get those bastards.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a frying pan in hand right now, only a whisk. He considered for a second and then also grabbed a tomato he had been planning to cut up. Appropriately armed, he inched towards the doorway.

“—sure this is the right place? It looks…” he heard from the other room.

Wow. Two seconds in and they were already being rude fuckers. His apartment didn’t ‘look’ anything, it was very nice.

“Yeah… It is though,” another voicer answered.

Great, so this isn’t all just one big misunderstanding, what a shame.

Tommy gripped his whisk a little tighter, leaning against the wall. The voices sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place them, the answer circling his mind but not quite landing.

“You can come in, it’s clear.” 

No the fuck you can’t, bitch.

“Yeah, I’m trying, hold on.” There was a whir like a fan and a string of curses as presumably someone tried to climb through his window. 

Alright, nevermind! Fuck being sneaky, no way he was letting this happen without intervening!

Tommy leaped out into the living room and threw the tomato as hard as he could at the man who had a leg over the window sill and was climbing inside. “SURPRISE, BITCH!” he yelled as he threw it, two heads swivelling to him at lightning speed.

The woman already standing inside reached out one hand and caught the tomato, not so much as flinching at the sudden assault. Window Man on the other hand screamed and jerked back only to stop when it didn’t hit him and turn stunned to his partner.

“Oh,” he said.

Oh boy, we’re in for a ride, Tommy sighed internally.

Then Window Man’s head turned back to him and he puffed up like an angry chicken. “Hey, what the fuck!” he yelled, pulling himself through the window. “I could have fallen to my death!”

“You’re a pretty shit vigilante if a tomato is all it takes to kill you,” he said flatly, not without sending him a glare of his own.

The woman’s eyes widened. “To— er, hello,” she said, and hurriedly tossed the tomato back to him.

Tommy—hit with a split-second brilliant light-bulb idea—swung his whisk like a baseball bat intent on hitting it back. 

Unfortunately it seemed the laws of physics had it out for him today.

It didn’t bounce off at all, instead exploding against the whisk and getting caught inside, squirting tomato juice all over Tommy. 

He stood, dripping tomato juice, staring unhappily at the tomato-whisk in his hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman said, a poorly buried giggled in her voice, “I thought you were going to catch it.”

“I was going to do something much better. The whisk betrayed me.”

She laughed, “How cruel.”

He blinked back up at the pair. Now that he took a moment to actually look at them both, Tommy noted her pink hair and shimmering mermaid-like cloak as well as Window Man’s red and blue goggles and headset…

Holy shit, that was Riptide! Riptide was standing in his living room.

And also Thunderbolt but Tommy didn’t really care about him.

Riptide was fucking awesome, like the coolest ever. Tommy was half-tempted to get her to sign something for him before kicking them both out of his apartment.

He stared at them both, a little awed. Then he frowned. They were still fucking wrong’uns breaking in.

Tommy mulled over his options for half a second and then threw the whole whisk—tomato and all—at Thunderbolt. This time Riptide was distracted enough that she didn’t catch it and it hit him squarely on the forehead, also squirting him with tomato juice.

“Ow,” he shrieked, “What the fuck?”

“Now we’re even,” Tommy nodded, satisfied. The man made a distinctly unhappy sound but his partner huffed a bewildered laugh and went to pick up the whisk from the floor.

“What do you mean even, you did that to yourself!” he screamed, his headset sparking. 

“Yeah well you fucking deserved it more!” he yelled back.

“Oh, you fucking—”

“Alright, enough, quit squabbling,” Riptide cut in, smacking Thunderbolt lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m not squabbling,” he protested, his headset sparking. 

“Sorry about him,” Riptide said to Tommy, handing him  back the whisk. Big mistake. “Do you know who we are?”

“Yes, yes,” Tommy said, “Riptide, Thunderbolt,” he pointed to himself, “and I’m Tommy. Now that we have introductions out of the way would you care to tell me what the ever-loving fuck you’re doing here?”

They exchanged a glance and Thunderbolt shrugged at Riptide in a ‘I don’t know either’ gesture.

“You don’t sound very surprised to see us,” Riptide said slowly.

Tommy huffed, “Well I’m a little surprised. Wasn’t expecting you guys. Big fan by the way,” he grinned. “Riptide. Not you Thunderbolt.”

“Hey!” he protested, “Why not? What did I do?”

Tommy wrinkled his nose at him. “Broke into my place.”

“Wha—” he spluttered, “She did too!”

“Yeah but she’s cool.”

“But— that’s not even—”

Tommy raised the whisk in a silent threat. 

“...You’re a menace.”

“Thank you!” he beamed. “Anyway, I have something on the stove. Wait here,” he said and wandered back into the kitchen.

Tommy could practically hear the baffled look the two vigilantes exchanged behind him in the silence that followed, and then hushed rapid-fire whispers that broke out between them.

The pot thankfully had not boiled over in the three minutes he left it unchecked, which honestly was a miracle in itself. His pasta sauce was one tomato short but it was simmering pleasantly and looked about done.

“I’m going to eat, do you guys want any pasta?” he called to the other two.

Thunderbolt peeked his head through the door. “Is it spaghetti?” he asked hopefully.

Tommy shuddered, “Oh no, there’s a ban on spaghetti in the whole building after my neighbor created an abomination you really don’t want to hear about. I still have nightmares about it. This is linguini.”

He tilted his head, his goggles catching the light. “Isn’t that basically the same thing?”

“Nowhere near,” Tommy shook his head vigorously. “You won’t wake up to fucking slenderman rifling through your cupboards at 2:00 AM with linguini.”

“...”

“Yeah, it’s horrifying.”

“Either way,” Riptide said appearing at Thunderbolt’s side, “we can’t eat.” She gestured to his mask.

“Damn,” Thunderbolt sighed.

Tommy made himself his plate of pasta and then ushered them back into the living room, plopping himself down on the couch.

“So,” he said through a mouthful of linguini once he was comfortably seated, “I meant it when I asked what you were doing here. You’re never this far east.”

Riptide and Thunderbolt were vigilantes who patrolled the south side of L’Manburg and rarely strayed from there. The L’Manburg river cut right through the city and they stuck close to it, because water powers. Riptide was ridiculously powerful no matter where she was but near a big source of water like that, well she was pretty much single-handedly responsible for why the south was so much safer than the east or west.

Thunderbolt was a newer addition, making them a pair. His powers seemed to be tech-related, which by itself was nothing special, but with his electric charges being conducted by Riptide’s water streams, the two formed a frighteningly efficient team.

For them to be all the way out here, they had to have made the trip just for Tommy. Joy.

They glanced at each other in some kind of silent communication.

“Well… we came here to check something out but this isn’t really what we were… expecting.”

“I know I’m incredibly handsome.”

Thunderbolt crossed his arms and scowled at him. “You’re a dick.”

Tommy took another bite of his pasta and gave him a smug smile.

“So let me guess,” he said turning back to Riptide, “you’re here to look for something in my apartment?”

They blinked in unison. “Well… yes.”

“Yeah, maybe don’t?”

“Why not?” Thunderbolt asked curiously.

Tommy frowned at him, “Because it’s fucking rude, prick.”

“Oh. Fair enough.”

“We were also here,” Riptide added delicately, “um, well to see you.”

Tommy’s eyebrows rose in surprise. That didn’t sound good. “Me?”

“Not you specifically,” she clarified, “Just whoever lived here. We were hoping to talk to you.”

Alright well that was a little better. Tommy still didn’t like it. Having every vigilante in L’Manburg snooping around his apartment was bad enough without them taking an interest in Tommy himself. It just wasn’t a good sign given their line of work.

Purpled was different, he was fun to annoy. And Tommy had literally forced him to garbage dive for him today so he wasn’t very intimidated to say the least.

“Alright, well,” he said hesitantly, “talk.”

They shot each other a long look, having another silent conversation through their eyeballs. Tommy wished they would stop doing that. It was fucking weird.

He bit down on his linguini as he glared intimidatingly at them, probably ruining the effect but sue him, he was hungry!

Riptide sighed, “Okay, I guess– do you know what’s in your apartment?”

Tommy perked up. That wasn’t where he thought this was going to go. “The thing everyone’s looking for and being a dick about? No, what is it?”

“...Everyone?” She quickly glanced at Thunderbolt again.

“Yeah y’know, you guys, the other vigilantes, all that.”

“What other vigilantes?” Thunderbolt asked, a trail of suspicion in his voice.

Tommy narrowed his eyes at him, “I’m not telling, bitch.”

“Who was here?”

“That’s not your business.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.”

“It— ugh, you’re impossible.”

Thunderbolt was kind of fun to annoy too. Plus the goggles meant Tommy couldn’t see the murderous look he was undoubtedly sending him, it went right over his head. He pulled a face at him and Thunderbolt growled low in his throat. Yeah, a lot of fun.

“Tommy, these other vigilantes, were they, um, dangerous?” Riptide prodded.

Hannah’s eyes, pulsing red like a heartbeat, her hands in a deathgrip around his wrist, her nails just barely pressing into his skin.

“Nah,” he said after a beat too long of silence, giving a smile that hopefully wasn’t too shaky, “I’m huge, I handled them.”

Riptide gave him a doubtful, worried look. “We’ll do our best so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Really?”

“There are some strings we can pull,” she affirmed.

“No I meant more like, why?”

“We’re not assholes,” Thunderbolt complained, crossing his arms. “You’re like twelve, we’re not just going to let you be assaulted by random vigilantes on the regular.”

“Twelve? You’re fucking twelve, bitch!” Tommy yelled.

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“And you’re ugly.”

“You don’t even know what I look like!”

“I don’t need to.”

“You’re an annoying gremlin.”

“And you’re a fucking wrong’un.”

There was a beat of silence and then Thunderbolt turned away with a groan. Ha, point to Tommy!

“We’ll come back to that,” Riptide said slowly, a look of concern on her face. “the vigilante thing. For what’s in your apartment, we actually don’t know either. Or, not exactly. We just know there’s a powerful artifact somewhere in here. Like very powerful. The kind of powerful that would be very, very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.”

Tommy paused mid stab at his plate. “Huh?”

“It’s—”

“Wait so you guys don’t even know what’s here and you’re still fucking annoying me about it? There might not even be anything here! Yeah actually, I think I’d know if there was an all powerful magical crystal or whatever just chilling in my cupboards.”

“Yeah, we kind of thought you’d know too but…”

“There’s no way. You guys have some shit fucking intel.”

She shook her head. “It’s likely hidden well if—”

“Riptide,” Thunderbolt suddenly cut. He was suddenly much more tense, head tilted as he stared at Tommy’s coffee table.

“What?”

“Look.” He snatched up something from the table, holding it out to her. Oh, it was Tommy’s dumpster treasure.

Riptide took it, turning it over in her hands. Her eyes snapped to Tommy. “How did you get this?”

Tommy shrugged, “An iguana shoved me into a dumpster.”

“You… what?”

“Y’know, these things happen. Is it actually valuable then?”

He wouldn’t say no to a little extra payment.

“An… iguana? How— no, no, it’s not valuable. Definitely— no, don’t show this to anyone, definitely not.”

“That would be a terrible idea,” Thunderbolt agreed.

Okay, suspicious.

“Are you sure you found this in a dumpster?”

“That’s what you’re hanging onto, Riptide? I was going to ask about the iguana.”

Tommy ignored Thunderbolt who was staring at him like he had just turned purple, “I mean yeah, I found it just this morning. Thought it was neat.”

Riptide and Thunderbolt stared at him, the silence stretching out between them. Tommy stared back and then decided, fuck this, this is boring, and went back to eating his pasta.

“Riptide,” Thunderbolt said.

“Yep, we need to talk, come on,” she replied and dragged him to the kitchen. Tommy blinked at them as they ducked through the doorframe. 

Sure, I guess. Who even cares anymore?

They had some fucking nerve, he had to give it to them.

He shrugged and kept eating his pasta, not bothering to listen in on the whispers coming from the kitchen. Not my problem.

When Tommy finished his plate though he decided that was enough. He had been plenty gracious to his surprise guests for the day. He marched over to the kitchen.

“—know but the fucking mafia.”

“We need to have a talk with Quack—”

Their conversation abruptly cut off as Tommy stepped inside, setting his plate on the counter and then turning to them with his hands on his hips. Riptide had the golden chip in one hand holding it up between them as they talked and it caught the light, gleaming faintly.

“This looks like a conversation that can happen outside my apartment,” he said sticking a palm out and making grabby hands at the chip.

Thunderbolt looked ready to argue but Riptide sighed and nodded. She pressed the poker chip into his hand. “I suppose you’re right. We should get going Thunderbolt.” 

Tommy knew she was cool.

“What, really?” Thunderbolt asked, “What about… you know.”

“There’s nothing more we can do here. And I think we’ve bothered this kid long enough.”

Tommy arched an eyebrow, “I believe the term is ‘breaking and entering’ but you know, it’s whatever.”

Thunderbolt shifted uncomfortably and ducked his head. “Yeah, sorry,” he muttered.

Riptide nodded and fixed Tommy with a steady gaze. “I’m sorry about us, not much we can do there, but we’ll take care of it and make sure it doesn’t happen again in the future. The intel is going to spread but we’ll do our best to keep people away. You shouldn’t be getting any more unwanted guests alright?”

He shrugged, “That would be nice.”

Although honestly his impromptu meetings with the vigilantes weren’t all that bad. They were actually kind of fun if you didn’t count the Hannah thing.

Riptide nodded again and then took Thunderbolt by the wrist and marched them both to the living room. Tommy followed and oh, absolutely not.  

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Thunderbolt looked back at him, confused. “We’re leaving.”

“The door’s right there,” Tommy said aggressively gesturing to the other side of the apartment from they were headed.

“Uh, nope, we’re going through the window,” he said cautiously, probably hearing Tommy’s exasperation.

“Seriously, we’re ten floors off the ground!” he exploded, “Why the fuck would you go through the window! And you guys can’t even fly!”

Riptide shrugged, an amused glint in her eye, “We’ve got a ride.” She pointed through the window at a fucking hoverboard, balanced on the edge of the window sill. “That’s how we got in too.”

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

“It works,” Thunderbolt protested.

“That is the least safe way you could possibly get up here!”

“Don’t worry, we do this all the time!” he said sliding the window open.

“...You guys are fucking crazy, both of you.”

He watched as Thunderbolt carefully clambered through, turning on the hoverboard apparently with just a touch. It started whirring and spinning like a turbine engine, the poor thing going even crazier when Thunderbolt stepped onto it. Riptide went after him and Tommy had to jump to steady her when she momentarily lost her balance. Prime, this was ridiculous.

“Thanks,” she smiled as she let him go, “Bye, Tommy, take care!”

Thunderbolt gave a two fingered salute and they whizzed off, sweeping lower back down to safe ground.

Tommy turned the poker chip over in his hands as he listened to the whirring of the fan grow more and more distant before melting completely into the bustle of the city. A powerful artifact, huh? 

He wasn’t sure how much he believed it. It sounded improbable, bordering on impossible to him, but if the vigilantes believed it at least it explained his visitors. 

Either way, assuming Riptide and Thunderbolt made good on their promise  (which to be fair he wasn’t too convinced about that either), he supposed he wouldn’t be seeing much of any vigilante again anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up to the sound of something crashing in his living room, which he could now see was the one and only vase he owned being knocked to the ground and shattered. By a clearly injured and extremely out of it vigilante.

Enderwalk was sitting on the floor under his window, breathing shallowly with her eyes closed, hands pressed to her side. The hood of her cloak had fallen, revealing two-toned split black and white hair and delicately pointed ears.

Also his window was now a swirling purple vortex sparking with void-like particles.

Right, cool.

Enderwalk was a relatively new vigilante, having first appeared a few months ago in the east end. She actually patrolled the area around Tommy’s neighborhood which was a blessed relief and also vaguely worrying for a debuting vigilante because the amount of petty crime here was no joke. She had her work cut out for her.

Still, Tommy hadn’t been mugged once since she had debued so he’d say she was doing pretty well. 

He’d appreciate though, if she were doing pretty well while also not stumbling inside his apartment at 3:00 in the morning.

He stared down at the vigilante.

“Hello?”

Enderwalk jolted, her eyes shooting open, and she gasped when she spotted Tommy. One of her eyes was glowing bright purple. 

Huh, Tommy had heard that it did that when she used her powers. He glanced at the portal in the window frame. Guess that was true.

“Hello?” she echoed, sounding dazed even through the robotic grizzling of her voice modulator. She tried to struggle to her feet, holding onto the wall, and even almost managed before pitching forward and nearly toppling to the ground. Her skirt swished as she lurched to keep her balance.

Enderwalk was freakishly tall. He knew it from the clips he had seen on the news but it was even more striking in person. She was probably taller than Ranboo even.

She seemed to decide that standing wasn’t worth potentially cracking her head open and slid back to the floor. Even in the dark, Tommy could see the dark handprint she left behind on the wall. “What– who are you?”

“Who am I? I’m Tommy. The guy who’s apartment you just broke into.”

“...Your apartment? …Tommy?” If he didn’t know any better he’d say Enderwalk sounded surprised, or like she was having some kind of realization. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not special. Are you, uh, good?” he asked because now didn’t really feel like the time to bitch about yet another break in. Later.

“Yep, just fine,” she gritted out, eyes fluttering shut and then shooting wide open again. “Got stabbed. Just, you know, I’m going to just… sit… for a minute.”

“Fucking stabbed? You can’t say ‘I’m fine’ and ‘got stabbed’ in the same sentence. Okay, no, hold on, um, be right back–” He scrambled for the bathroom, flung open the cabinet and began digging through it. Surely he had a medkit in here somewhere. Preferably not years old. Did medkits expire? This would be a bad way to find out. He couldn’t actually see anything because it was stupidly dark and the stupid light switch didn’t turn the stupid lights on, so Tommy just pulled everything out of the cabinet, checking it in his hands before putting it down on the floor. Finally, he pulled out a little red zippered case with a white cross on the top.

It was smaller than he had hoped. Oh well, surely something in here could… sew up a stab wound or something.

He rushed back to Enderwalk’s side, who thankfully had not moved, and not so thankfully was bleeding all over his floor. She better pay for the bleach that was going to take to clean up.

He flicked on the lights, and then almost knocked over the TV when she gasped sharply. Tommy turned to find her cringing from the light, one hand slapped over her eyes. One sticky, blood-speckled hand.

“Nngh,” she groaned.

“Yeah, well, sorry but I need to be able to see unless you want me to just douse you in disinfectant and call it a day.”

Enderwalk groaned again—in pain or in irritation or in ‘shut the fuck up already,’ it was unclear, but she lowered her hand and squinted at him.

“Tommy,” she said, in the same way she might say ‘moose’ if one were standing in front of her.

“Yeah?”

She didn’t say anything else so that was probably the extent of her observation.

“Alright then,” he said, crouching down next to her. “I’m going to look see what I can do.” With his close to zero amount of medical knowledge. This was going to go great. 

He unzipped the medkit and found about what he was expecting, that is to say a rather pathetic assortment of health-treatment items, none of which were really suited to the situation at hand. It was mostly band-aids and disinfectant spray, a bit of gauze, a lot more band-aids and then just random things he couldn’t imagine being useful in any situation.

Who needed a little wooden stick in a medical emergency?

There was a small pair of scissors at least. He plucked them from the case and held them out to show Enderwalk. 

“I’m going to cut the fabric around the wound, okay? Then I can see it better and maybe fix it.”

“What! No way!” she protested immediately. “First of all there’s no way I’m letting you do any first aid on me, I’ll do that myself.” Oh thank Prime. “And second of all, absolutely no cutting up my cloak, don’t you dare.”

 Tommy eyed her skeptically. “Uh, it’s kind of too late for that, Big Man. You were… you know, stabbed?”

“No. Fucking hate sewing,” she added, muttering to herself

Tommy hoped she was always this crazy and that wasn’t just the blood loss talking. “There’s literally already a tear.”

“Well you’re not making it any bigger, not if I’m still living and breathing.”

Tommy blinked at her, stunned into momentary silence by how completely fucking insane this was. “Yeah, that’s like, the fucking problem. I’m trying to keep you living and breathing. Seriously, it’ll help.”

“No touching the cloak,” she said stubbornly. 

“Don’t you have bigger problems right now?” he tried one more time, “Like, again, the stab wound you’re bleeding out from?”

“No, no, get your scissors away from it.” She batted at him with one hand, curling the other over the tear in her cloak, “I don’t care. I am not sewing this back up.”

“For Prime sake, I’ll sew it up for you if you want, just let me cut it so I can make sure you don’t fucking die, dick,” Tommy exploded, throwing his hands up in the air.

Enderwalk’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and then her eyes lit up delightedly, crinkling at the corners. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, I’ll do it, Prime! Will you let me cut it now?”

She eyed him suspicously for one more second before nodding, and removed her hand from where it was guarding the cloak protectively. “Alright, fine, you can.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said somewhere between exasperated and gobsmacked.

He leaned in closer, trying not to recoil at the smell of blood and instead focus on getting to scissors between the fabric and the skin, and not accidentally stabbing Enderwalk again. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that. It was easier said then done, the fabric sticky with blood and all but melding into the cut, but eventually Tommy managed to catch the edge of the tear between his scissors. Enderwalk hissed in pain when the steel skimmed the wound, but didn’t otherwise complain.

Tommy snipped at the fabric, peeling away a blood-soaked strip from the cloak. He continued to carefully cut away at it until the wound was free of any fabric sticking to it.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” Enderwalk echoed. She poked at the skin beside her wound, examining his work and took a short breath. “Okay, that’ll work. Now give me the needle. I can sew myself up.”

“Needle?”

“Yes, needle, this needs stitches,” she frowned, holding out her hand.

Tommy stared down at it, and then at the medkit. “What do you think this is, I don’t have a needle.”

“You don’t have a needle? What kind of medkit is this!”

“One I bought on a 70% discount three years ago when there was the villain boom, man! I never really planned for a vigilante to get shanked and come to me for help!”

“Well, maybe you should have!” she said indignantly, before hissing with pain and curling into her side. “Ow, should not have moved, ow, ow, that hurts.”

And yeah, Tommy was no expert on injuries and stab wounds and all but that did not look good. Enderwalk hadn’t stopped bleeding since Tommy found her here and now that the cloak wasn’t soaking up anything he could see it spurting sluggishly through her fingers. Also, eww that wound was fleshy, Tommy was never unseeing that.

Enderwalk’s breath hitched and she screwed her eyes shut. “I really need a needle. Can’t– can’t fall asleep before taking care of this. Maybe… do you know, maybe, someone who might have one? Maybe… neighbor wouldn’t mind?”

Know someone…

Tommy snapped upright, an idea hitting him like a lightning bolt. Of course! Tommy knew lots of someones. He just prayed they were willing to help.

He shot to his feet, scrambling for his coffee table. “Yes, I do! I know what to do! Don’t worry I’ll get you fixed right up! I just need—” Elk, hourglass, battleaxe, feather— aha! Lemon tree. He snatched the carving from where it lay on the table. It was a lot more elegant than Drista’s blob of a tree, the roots spreading out like rivers that fit perfectly into his palm, the leaves reaching up for sunlight they didn’t need and the tiny, meticulously carved lemons hidden in the foliage. It had taken Tommy forever to get right, but it was all worth it for times like now. “Okay, Enderwalk, I’ll be right back I promise.”

“Uh, okay?”

“Just hope he fucking answers,” he muttered to himself as he stomped to his room, shutting the door behind him.

He didn’t bother to go digging in his closet to turn on the lights. Tommy stood in the dark and held out his hands, cupping them around the tree carving. “Come on, Ponk,” he muttered, “Come on.”

For a beat, nothing happened.

And then, his hands began to glow with golden light, dripping from his fingers and spilling down his arms, glowing brighter by the second and spiraling off in the air. A sharp herbal smell hit him, citrusy and minty.

And then it was all gone, and before Tommy sat a calico cat.

“Hi Ponk,” he greeted.

Hello, Tommy, the cat answered.

Or, Tommy was pretty sure it answered. There was no sound, only the words appearing in his mind like he had heard them. If that wasn’t Ponk’s doing then he had been having some very awkward and one-sided conversations with the ghosts all his life.

At least Ponk often appeared in a human form and sometimes talked normally. Others like Callahan though, yeah that would be awkward.

He was pretty sure it was them talking though.

Mostly sure.

Very reasonably sure.

The cat weaved around his legs, sniffing at his shoes. What’s up? You’re not hurt, are you?

“What, can’t I just want to talk to my good buddy Ponk?”

No, you’re usually injured, Ponk answered doubtfully, squinting at him. On a cat the expression didn’t really work. In fact, he looked rather adorable.

“Damn, I have a reputation.”

You sure do. That’s not a good thing! he reprimanded as Tommy grinned.

“Maybe not for you. I’m Tommy Danger Innit!”

Hm, he said noncommittally. So what’s up then?

“Oh, actually, it’s… not me this time but I do need your help. There’s a vigilante bleeding out in my living room.”

Ponk floated up to face him, sitting down on thin air and curling his tail around primly himself. A vigilante?

“Yeah, she’s, uh, not doing great. I could really use your help.”

Hm, he said flatly. 

“Please.”

I help you, Tommy, because I like you and because I know you’re good. But other random people…

“I know,” he said. “But then do it for me, please. She’s also good, she’s been helping the district, fighting crime and all. And I really don’t know what else to do to help her.”

Ponk considered him, looking at Tommy with eyes that seemed far, far older than anything should ever live to be. Finally, he shook himself. Fine. As a favor to you.

“Thank you,” Tommy said in a breath of relief.

And I want ginger lemongrass soup.

“Of course,” he assured quickly, “No problem.”

Ponk had always been kind-hearted and easy to convince. If Tommy had to guess he’d say he’d been a doctor in another life or something. It wasn’t in his nature to let suffering people continue to suffer. 

The cat stretched, his calico coat shimmering in the moonlight coming from the window and then jumped softly to the ground and walked to the door. There he waited, looking back at Tommy as though to say, “Well…?”

Tommy opened it for him, rolling his eyes. Ponk could very well phase through, he was just being a sassy bitch. Tommy followed him out and the cat bounded his way into the living room and then to Enderwalk’s side.

Whatever help Enderwalk had expected Tommy to come back with, it apparently wasn’t a cat because she startled, staring at it with wide, bewildered eyes. “Is that a cat?” she asked.

“No it’s a cauliflower,” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Yes, obviously it’s a cat.”

“Why–”

Ponk, apparently not willing to sit around and let himself be discussed, jumped up next to Enderwalk and pressed his nose to her side. 

She gasped, moving instinctually to push him away but froze mid-gesture. Where Ponk had touched her, Tommy could see faint sparks of golden light that trailed to her wound. They danced around the cut, stitching it up before their eyes, weaving flesh and blood back into place before sealing it up.

It was over in seconds, not a trace of the wound left behind.

Enderwalk gaped down at her no-longer-there wound and then up at the cat, who met her eyes smugly.

“What…? What just happened?”

Tommy shrugged, “I got help.”

Ponk, satisfied with his work, turned away and sauntered back to the hallway, disappearing in Tommy’s bedroom. A second later Tommy felt the pull of him leaving, disappearing back to who fucking knows where.

“What. The fuck,” Enderwalk said.

“Yep, well that’s all well and good then—”

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, sort of,” Tommy said.

“A cat with a diamond-tier power?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, “Yeah.” He was glad Ponk had gone. If he heard Tommy say he belonged to him he might piss in his flower pots or something. Petty dick.

No, no, nevermind that, I appreciate you, Ponk! Tommy mentally corrected. And he did. Prime knew he owed Ponk a lot, much more than he could ever hope to repay.

“Right.”

“Yep.”

“...Right.”

“...Yeah, anyway, as much as I hate to cut this short it is 3:00 AM and you did wake me up in the middle of the night and you also broke into my apartment and also that,” he pointed to the portal that was still swirling inky purple in the window frame. “So like…”

Enderwalk looked above her head at the portal with a little ‘oh’ like she had forgotten it was there at all. Stab wound and all, Tommy would forgive her for this time.

“So you’re just going to gloss over… all of that.” she said with a vague gesture to the hole in her cloak, still soaked in blood. There was a resigned tone in her voice like she already knew the answer.

“Yep!” Tommy confirmed cheerfully. “And since you’re all better now you can kindly get the fuck out of my apartment and let me get some sleep.”

She glanced up at the window-portal again, brows scrunched. “What about my cloak, you said you would fix it up?”

“Oh, for fuck’s–” Tommy pinched his fingers on the bridge of his nose and took a breath. “You have got to get your priorities in order, man. Yes, I’ll fix your cloak, just leave it on the back of the couch or something.”

“Alright yeah, thanks,” she stammered. She swayed to her feet, catching herself on the wall, this time without tipping forward.

“Um, are you all better?” he asked, more gently.

“Yeah, I am. Just a bit dizzy, give me a second.”

“Okay, wait, I’ll at least get you some water. But then it’s away with you, bitch.”

Tommy came back to the living room with a glass of water that he handed to Enderwalk who took it gratefully. She was looking a little better actually, not quite as pale as she had been before. Her eyes were matching again, the one that had been glowing purple back to its usual red. She would probably be okay to make it home. 

She had shed her cloak and bundled it on the end of the couch, leaving her in just a long-sleeved black shirt that, Tommy couldn’t help but notice, also had a hole in it. He rolled his eyes and handed her the water.

“And what are you going to do about your shirt?” he asked. “Is it only the cloak where you draw the line at sewing?”

“Huh? Oh, no I’m not sewing this up either, are you crazy? It doesn’t matter if my shirt has a hole, it’s under the cloak anyway,” she said soundly and turned away, pulling down her mask to sip at the water. When she’d downed about half of it she turned back to Tommy and handed the glass back to him. She suddenly looked very tired, like the night’s events had all just caught up to her. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said genuinely.

“Oh, well, you’re welcome I guess.”

“Um, how should I get it back?” she asked, gesturing vaguely to her cloak.

Tommy frowned, having actually not considered that. After a moment of deliberation, he groaned. “Ugh, you can come by again on Wednesday to get it, I guess."

“Alright, I should go. Sorry for waking you up. And for accidentally breaking in.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever. Don’t worry about it. Now shoo.”

“Bye-bye, thanks again,” she said and jumped through her portal.

Out of the fucking window again, for fuck’s sake!

Tommy brought the glass back to the kitchen and leaned against the counter. He had a new sewing project now, apparently, as well as some bloodstains to clean up. That was Future Tommy’s problem though, right now he was going back to bed.