Chapter Text
“Hi, my name is Toby. Can I get you guys started with anything to drink?” He smiled and said to the table in front of him. This was gonna suck, he could already tell, but there’s no harm in trying to keep his hopes as high as possible.
They were quite a large group, mixed age—which is always the worst—and the only thing they seemed to have in common was their lack of intelligence.
They stared at him for a few seconds before the man seated closest to him—who had to be around
70 or 80–gasped as if he just discovered Tubbo standing there and looked down at his menu. “Hmm. I’ll have a coke. No ice.”
Tubbo took a breath before saying, “We have Pepsi, but no Coke. Is that alright-“
“Well, I’ll take a sprite then.” The man paused for a few seconds while Tubbo looked down to scribble sprt on his notepad, before he shook his head and said, “I want a diet sprite. Wait—actually-“
“He’ll take a Diet Pepsi, thank you.” A younger woman, probably his daughter interrupted.
He quickly moved through the table, only other problem arising with an anxious teenager who didn’t say a single word at all, as if Tubbo could read her mind.
Three Diet Pepsi’s, A Piña Colata Cocktail, Three Waters, Two Sprites, and two of their speciality smoothies for the children at the table, is what Tubbo had ended up writing.
He speed-walked to the kitchen unrealistically hoping that he can get through this table quick and easy, before he turned the corner and accidentally bumped into someone.
The other man yelped and dropped his notepad on the ground, he slapped a hand to his mouth and said, “Oh—sorry!” He was pretty tall and had very wildly black and white skin—not brown and tan—pure black and white. It made Tubbo gape for a few moments before shaking his head and saying, “Don’t worry about it.”
It’s not so unusual for people to develop characteristics like animal features—like his horns—or skin mutations, a lot of them are related to abilities and such. Tubbo wonders what this guy can do that so drastically changes his skin. He refrains from asking.
Suddenly it was as if the item on the floor was highlighted in Tubbos vision, it almost made him frustrated, his ability acting as if he wasn’t already going to pick it up anyways. Maybe it’s trying to tell him to talk to more people besides Tommy.
He crouched down to pick the others notepad off the ground and handed it to him, the guy nervously laughed and said, “Thank you, gosh I really need to watch where I’m going.”
This must be the new hire, Tubbo concluded. Although it didn’t take much effort considering their matching uniforms, both donning unattractive non-slips and fully black attire.
He let out a laugh and smiled, “It’s really no problem, I really have to go get these drinks though.” He said, trying to hint that action would require the two-toned man to step out of his way.
The other guy nodded, with another awkward laugh, he moved out of the way, clutching his notepad. First day nerves must be pretty serious.
Tubbo gave an exhausted sigh, time for him to get back to work. He wonders what Tommy’s doing right now. Probably something stupid.
***
“Fuck! Everybody drop their wallets right fucking now—or I swear to god I’ll-” A stocky man in a black shiesty came into the store waving his gun in the air, Tommy tuned out the rest of his panicked rant to crouch down behind the shelf he was just restocking.
If he wasn’t trying to hide from the men, he would’ve laughed at the pure idiocy, the fact they had no gloves and their sheisty’s were most definitely too large, and how comical the two of them looked, one being a short fat guy and a tall skinny guy. Hell, only one of them even had a weapon.
The fat one held a backpack that was presumably for the cash they were attempting to steal from the register, Tommy couldn’t hold back a smile.
He’s been craving some crime-stopping action, missing that sweet sweet adrenaline rush that beating the shit out of someone gave him. What was unfortunate was that his make-shift costume was sitting in a box at home.
He peeked over from behind the shelf to see the big guy reaching over the counter to grab the cash register, for a second Tommy wonders where the cashier went, before he averts his gaze down to see his Minjae—one of his favorite people to work with—on the floor face down.
God, maybe this situation is more serious than he first expected—but he didn’t hear any gunshots or anything-
“Hey! I told you to drop your fucking wallet!” Skinny pointed the gun in the direction of the crying woman in front of him, she hurriedly dumped her purse on the ground and wrapped her arms around her body, shaking as if there was an earthquake.
Alright, it’s time to do something. Tommy took a deep breath and slowly inched into their direction.
Both men were facing away from him, Big Guy still stuffing the register into his backpack and Skinny rummaging through the woman’s purse. He couldn’t do anything too crazy, currently he’s a citizen.
He has do something just the right amount of crazy, he thought as he grabbed a bottle of cooking wine out from the shelf, holding it upside down as he slowly walked towards the man holding the gun.
The woman’s eyes widened and she looked at him with a face full of fear—just as the man turned around with wide eyes—Tommy ran to bash the glass against his head, the bottle breaking on contact.
As Skinny fell to the floor, the other guy turned around staring in shook. Wasting no time, Tommy lept to rip the gun—that flew across the floor when the man fell to the ground—and pointed it straight at Big Guy.
“Don’t move!” Tommy said unwaveringly, heart pounding in his chest. He took one step towards the man—who flinched back in return—and continued, “Lay face down on the floor—hands behind your back.”
He could see the mans wide eyes in the holes of his shiesty, and how his brows furrowed as he dropped to the ground in defeat.
Tommy couldn’t help but smile, hell, this totally makes up for yesterday.
He remembered the existence of the innocent woman—still crouched in the corner—who just witnessed him single handedly stop a robbery. “Can you call the cops, please?” He asked her, not taking his eyes off the man on the floor.
It was silent for a beat, she was probably still processing seeing someone who still had acne take down two grown men. She opened her mouth and said, “Okay-okay. My phone, okay where’s my phone—“ her agreement slowly turned into stressed rambling as she grabbed her purse and started rummaging through it.
He was unimaginably lucky that this crappy store hasn’t had functioning cameras for months, the cops would probably be a bit too curious for his liking.
Suddenly he remembered Minjae, and he ran to the back of the counter to look over his body—thank fuck he was alive and breathing—and saw that there were no gunshot wounds whatsoever.
He saw Big Guy move a smidge and made sure to keep his gun pointed straight at him, he learned this move from the detective shows that Tubbo liked to watch on the TV.
The thought of Tubbo made a thought came across Tommy’s mind, this event was probably what was causing his roommates headache yesterday.
“Minjae?” Tommy said, lightly kicking his limp body for emphasis. “It’s over now, they’re gone!” He said, raising his voice as if his friend could even hear him.
Fortunately, Minjae shot up like cold water was just dumped on him, taking a heavy deep breath as his eyes widened. “M-money! I’ll give you can everything, just don’t shoot me!”
He must still be pretty disoriented, Tommy thought. He tried to put on a comforting smile and said, “it’s me—Tommy. The police are coming, Minjae.”
He was a pretty nice kid, although his anxiety often took over every other emotion he had. Tommy wonders who had the bright idea to put the socially inept 17 year old in the one position that requires social interaction.
Damn, he must’ve fainted on the spot as soon as he spotted those guns.
“Oh god. What happened??” Minjae asked, with his head in his hands. “Where are those men?? Did they leave???” He pressed.
“Ahh, well not exactly. It doesn’t matter—the cops are coming for them.” Tommy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s get you up off the floor, yeah?”
Tommy grabbed Minjaes hand and pulled him up on his feet, holding him until he could lean against a wall. “Are you staying upright this time? You need like—water or anything?” He always felt awkward when he had to comfort a victim.
“No-no. It’s alright, this happens all the time.” Minjae said, not meeting his eyes. Tommy gave him an incredulous look and Minjae clarified, “The fainting, not the robbing.”
It was silent except for their awkward laughter, until he looked him right in the eyes. Minjae smiled and said, “Thanks for helping me, Tommy.” He giggled and continued, “You’re my hero.”
Tommy did this, endangering his life in as many ways as he can in the shortest amount of time, for many different reasons. Getting to beat up criminals who live to do nothing else except making people suffer, feeling the bursting feeling in his chest and the pounding of his heart whenever he risks his existence, but what he holds closest to his heart—what really keeps him going—is seeing people he’s helped thank him.
“I just like helping people.” Tommy bashfully said as he rubbed his neck.
***
The cops didn’t stay for long, questioning him, Minjae, and the woman, and detaining the two men. Sure took their time to get here though, his arm was starting to ache the longer he had to keep the gun pointed against the big fella.
Tommy could’ve stayed until his shift was officially over, but the cops made them call their boss and notify him of the situation, and the man in question said they could take off early as long as they make sure everything is locked up. Minjae took the offer with little resistance, and there’s no chance in hell Tommy would try and tackle both restocking and the register.
He reaches into his pocket and out his phone to check the time, 5:43 PM, he reads. He’s probably just going to sit around and do nothing until sundown, considering he’s already suffering the consequences of going out on patrol while the sun was still up. Tubbo is getting off super late tonight, so Tommy might as well make the most of his absence.
“Bye Tommy!” Minjae yelled as he scrambled into a car—probably his sisters—and waved before he shut the door. Tommy waved through the window as he swept the pieces of glass off the floor of the Bodega. He only lived a few streets down, a pretty nice walk, actually.
He hastily dumped the scraps into the garbage can, giving the store one final look over. Having to clean tires him out more than stopping an armed robber.
He finally swung open the door and locked it—checking at least three times that it was actually shut down—before speed-walking in the direction of home. Around two hours until sundown, he doesn’t know if he can wait that long.
***
Tubbo shrugged his jacket back on and was about to start walking to his car, when he caught a glimpse of the new guy staring straight at him. Curious, he looked back, just to see the tall man avert his eyes with a nervous look.
He must be taking his break as well, judging by how he was slouching against the wall outside of the restaurant. Tubbo guesses he’ll go introduce himself.
He tries to keep a pleasant expression as he walks forward, it’s as if he’s going pspspsps to a nervous, frightened cat. The man eyes him curiously, although not quite making eye contact.
“Hey, I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier,” He stated, a contrast from his peppy customer service voice. He continued with, “Im Tubbo, the person you bumped into earlier.”
They stood there in thought for a second before gasping and saying, “Sorry about that. I don’t do good on first days.” He figured as much. They both let out a few chuckles before Tubbo responded, “Ahh, it’s not really your fault. My table was pretty irritating so I was just dreading having to deal with them. You know.” Tubbo grinned, “Or—I guess you don’t know.”
The man tilted his head to the side and asked, “So, Tubbo, why did you introduce yourself as Toby?” His brows furrowed, wondering when he had ever said that. It seems like he had sensed Tubbo confusion and clarified, “Oh—uh. To your table?”
Tubbo huffed incredulously, “No way you heard that!” He smiled and shook his head.
The man laughed and said, “It’s a side effect of these absolute beasts on the sides of my head!” he pointed to his tall, pointy, elf-like ears.
Enhanced hearing, Tubbo thought. That made much more sense than thinking this nervous-wreck was some sort of stalker.
Tubbo laughed when the man—he really needs to find out this guys name—used his finger to flick his ears up in emphasis, and said, “Well, Tubbo doesn’t really sit too well with everyone. Makes an irritating table into one that makes me want to shoot myself.”
He giggled and said, “Now that’s something I do know, considering my name is 10 times worse.”
Tubbo looked up into his eyes and grinned, “Well now I’m really curious! What could be worse than Tubbo?” The guy opened his mouth like he was going to say something, before closing it and shaking his head with a smile. “Don’t laugh, alright?” Tubbo nodded, but he wasn’t sure if he could keep his composure if this guy had some abnormally idiotic name.
“It’s.. Ranboo.” He uttered. Tubbo blinked and fixed his mouth into a line, trying to force the giggles that so badly wanted to come out of his throat down.
He took a shaky breath and said, “Really? Your legal name?? The name your mother gave you????” He was sure his face was turning red.
Ranboo had a downward smile, Tubbo thought it matched his face very well, just as unthreatening as the rest of him. Ranboo looked down to the floor and said, “Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh—“
“I’m not—I’m not!” Tubbo said, while laughing. He bent over and slapped his hands on his knees, saying, “It’s just a surprise!”
“Hey, well atleast my name isn’t Tubbo.” Ranboo said playfully. Tubbo said, “We can have terrible names together, alright?” Jokingly nudging Ranboo in his side. Now both of them were laughing.
***
8:34 PM - SUNDOWN
Tommy awakened to a blaring alarm on his phone, vibrating on the bedside table. He begrudgingly shut it off and tried to blink the tiredness out of his eyes.
That was a really nice nap, he isn’t usually the type to nap—that’s more Tubbos thing. He peeked under the curtain closest to his bed and saw the sky turning a reddish pink, sun heading down.
He jolted up, remembering that the reason he had slept was so that he could patrol as soon as possible—or just skip the waiting time by sleeping.
Tommy quickly rose onto his feet, throwing the shirt and sweats he had wore at work back onto his body. The dirty feeling, Tommy didn’t exactly enjoy it, but why mess up a new set of clothing when he’s just going to be changing into his costume anyways?
He pulled his socks on and began walking to the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal. May not settle well with his stomach when he starts doing twists and turns, but he needs something to give him some energy.
He groans at the thought of walking to the building he kept his costume, a problem for future Tommy, he had thought when deciding where he would store his clothes and considered how much of a hassle it would be to get there.
He grabbed an oat cereal out of the cupboard, nothing name brand of course, it was actually just titled oat cereal.
When he and Tubbo were out grocery shopping—though they usually didn’t do it together, apparently Tommy bitched too much about what Tubbo would put in the cart—him and his roommate almost started a fist-fight in public because Tommy was begging for them to get an actually good cereal. Like Cap’n Crunch, or Lucky Charms, but Tubbo was like, No Tommy, you know that name brands are a million times more expensive! If you have Cap’n Crunch money, be my guest but I know for a fact that you don’t!
He put the almost-empty carton of milk back into the fridge, and grabbed a spoon out of the cabinet. Milk before cereal, always. Tommy didn’t have much to say about the taste of the oats, except they really didn’t have any. He mindlessly shoved another spoonful into his mouth.
The bandages on his arm remind him of Tubbo, and he wonders how he would react to finding out about Tommy’s little hobby. One part of Tommy hopes he would be worried—maybe beg him to stop, but Tommy thinks that maybe he wouldn’t have a reaction at all, he’s an adult in the end who makes his own decisions.
He runs hundreds of different scenarios in his head, would he be angry that Tommy lied to him? Would he just be concerned for his safety—or would he find it just as cool as Tommy thinks it is?
He doubts that last option would ever happen, Tubbo has always been the more reasonable of the two.
He lifts the bowl to his mouth and drinks the remaining milk, some spilling down his chin onto his shirt. He wipes his mouth and places the bowl into the sink, walking towards the front door. He slips on the slides—that Tommy and Tubbo both share whenever go to take out the garbage or step outside for a moment—and grabs the zip-up he has hanging off the door.
He shoves the jacket on and steps into the fresh air, sky still a beautiful red.
***
The last remainers of the array of colors that had previously taken over the sky disappeared, leaving complete darkness—besides the light of the moon.
Tommy stood on top of a building, donning his—still stained in blood—costume. Tommy figured other vigilantes must have contacts with some sort of designer or third party, considering their well thought outfits, with beautiful colors and motifs that become their trademark.
Tommy did this all with his own two hands—or a sewing needle and the cheapest clothes he could find. Even with his less than high quality methods, his costume was pretty nice, in his opinion anyways.
He took inspiration from the silhouette of some other casual vigilantes, the same kind of outfit. He’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt, with black cargo’s, a black KN95 masc. To cover his hair, he sort of just cut the sleeves off of a black sweater, making it into a vest, where he keeps the hood up. It’s not the fanciest or the most detailed, but it works for what he needs.
He’s gonna have to patrol at a slower pace than usual, since he isn’t trying to screw up his already injured ankle even more, but he usually just runs around till he hears something anyways.
He leaps onto the next rooftop, boots scraping against the concrete. He makes his way down the block, surveying the streets below him, when suddenly he hears a loud bang—sounding like it came from in between this building and the one next to it.
He crept to the edge of the building and saw a lean, tall woman who seemed to be cursing at the garbage can in front of her. “God—fucking—damnit!” She angrily yelled, punctuating each word with a kick to the trash can.
The man next to her seemed to be watching in mild amusement, hand on his hip. Both of them were dressed in dark colored clothing, donning beanies.
The angry woman took a double take looking back at the man, suddenly redirecting her anger and saying, “The fuck are you laughing at.” She jabbed a finger in his face and accused, “It’s your fault that we lost the damn money!”
Tommy leans in a little bit closer, this could be an attempted robbery—or maybe a drug deal of some sorts. Maybe they were intercepted by another group or a vigilante.
Any remaining amusement in the man faded and he slapped the woman’s hand out of his face, he stepped forward and said, “Really? Because I’m pretty sure you were the one who gave our location to that.. whatever he was.” The man rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “Stupid fuckin’ idiots, playing hero at night. Can’t wait till they come across the wrong fuckin’ guy and get shot.
So a vigilante must’ve stopped them. The woman turns back to face the wall, uttering several curses.
Suddenly, the man lets out a yelp—before falling against the wall and crashing against the concrete, the woman turns back, her expression wide eyed—a mix of confusion and fear.
Speak of the devil, Tommy thinks as he watches a short, slender man in clothing similar to his own walk out of the darkness of the alleyway. The woman warily backs up, her hands shooting up in a passive surrender.
The mysterious vigilante aims his—damn is that a gun? Now, Tommy knows that the purpose of being a vigilante is to apprehend criminals but is dealing drugs that reprehensible?? Is that worth taking someone’s life over?
He steps closer to the woman and says, “A little too late for that.” His voice isn’t nearly as intimidating as he is—tone smooth and steady, with his pitch resembling Tommy’s own.
The woman rapidly shakes her head, voice shaky and wavering when she says, “Wait—wait, I can give you—“
Tommy screws his eyes shut when he sees the man wordlessly shoot his weapon, just to be confused at the absence of a gunshot. He hears the woman’s body thud to the ground and opens his eyes to see her lying there, chest still falling and rising.
He sees a tranquilizer dart sticking out of her neck and lets out a relieved breath, must have been what the other guy was hit with as well.
The vigilante lowers his gun and his shoulders fall—seeming to take off the mask of intimidation. Hes on the taller side, definitely. From what Tommy can see from the rooftop, he must be maybe—5’11, 6’0? Give or take. He has what looks to be a black bulletproof vest and a black long sleeve compression shirt, with matching straight leg pants.
The holsters he has strapped onto his leg and belt carry a multitude of different weapons. He circles back to the shirt—it’s an unusual shade of black, actually. Tommy leans in even closer, beginning to be uncomfortable close to falling off the building. It might not even be black—looks more like a dark shade of—
Tommy screams as he loses balance and nearly tumbles off of the roof, grasping onto the edge with all his might. He looks back at the ground to see the vigilante staring right up at him. Shit, Tommy thinks as he falls backwards onto the roof, shuffling away from the edge.
This is wonderful, this totally dangerous, absolutely badass vigilante with more weapons on his body than Tommy has ever seen in his life has just seen him snooping in on his business.
He hesitates for a moment, before peeking over the edge again—eyes widening as he sees that the man has completely disappeared. Fuck.