Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This had to be one of the best first week on the job he has ever had.

Though his eyes were begging him to let them shut and his limbs dragged behind him, Tommy was never one to complain. Especially when he had a great time talking to the new people he met, even though he was debatably quite introverted. 

Tommy grabbed the first train home, 8:00 Pm. And whilst on the train he played rock-paper-scissors with a five year old, whose mother was sleeping against the pole they were standing next to. Toms held his book bag over his shoulder, and watched his belongings with a keen eye while he was occupied, he had once stolen a bracelet from a thief, well not just once.. A few times— as if that made him any less of one himself— and he would not let the same happen to him.

After the kid and his mom left, he stood watched as a man smoked a cigarette even though it was very much looked down upon in trains, making the air unbreathable for others was a shitty thing to do, obviously. So once the train stopped, he brushed past the person and pulled the cigarette out of his hand, swiftly pressing the tip against his check, burning him and exiting the train in a quick movement. He could hear the smoker wince as the train’s doors shut behind him, after that, that guy didn’t smoke on trains anymore. 

Tommy’s journey home was a short one, as he walked with speed as to not get caught by cameras, force of habit. Don’t get him wrong, he would’ve traded his shitty childhood for anything, but he still didn’t mind keeping special traits from his childhood, heightened senses, quick reflexes, and he was nearly able to take on many opponents at once as if it was just a simple pillow-fight. He analyzed every person he met for any signs of passionate emotions, aggression, sadness, grief, happiness, all that, and decided the way he would communicate and made a plan based on it. It was very helpful for a vigilante like him to inhabit these skills, even if they don’t seem like much, they can mean a lot when you're bleeding out on the battlefield or fighting a sewer rat.

He twisted the key into the lock, but before he opened the door, he heard yelling from inside one of his neighbor’s apartments. It was unusual, but he quickly tensed as he heard the click of a gun. Tommy took careful steps backwards while taking his hands out of his pockets. He twisted the key again and locked his door, slipping the key onto the top of the door frame- again, force of habit, and stepping down the steps to his apartment building, putting his ear against his neighbor’s door. He pulled a black mask over his ears, pulling the hood of a red hoodie he put on when he got cold on to cover his hair.

He could hear shuffling inside, the yelling seemed to be about some stolen drugs, typical for this area of the city, but what was not typical was guns being allowed in apartments, especially the one he just heard being loaded. He could tell it was on the more expensive side-and though Tommy never met his neighbors, he knew that their apartment was not used to live in, but it was storage and front for their drug business. If Tommy wasn’t sober then he would’ve already been knocking on the door and buying some. 

He could hear faint crying through some sort of covering, like tape or a hand over someone's mouth, not only that, but also someone being threatened by the gun, is all he could guess from the sound of the situation.

As he pressed his ear to the door, he heard the footsteps shift, and by the clanks of feet on metal he knew some people were on the fire escape. He had to let Tubs know. 

But that Tubbo could wait, he had to stop them first, he slowly spun the handle and pushed the door open, oddly it was unlocked, as if they wanted him to enter, luckily, none of the people were in direct line of sight to the door. Tommy kept his back pressed to the wall as he walked into the apartment, a grimace on his face as the crying got louder.

“Tell us where the storage is, or you’ll be scrubbing your son’s brains off my walls.” 

The woman cried, pulling against the ropes tying her to the chair as they held the barrel to the kids head, Tommy recognized them, it was the kid and his mother from the train. How were they in Logsteshire if they exited earlier than him? 

And what was the storage?  

Tommy analyzed the room, the exits, windows, rooms, kitchen cabinets, and a small box-shaped cut in the ceiling which was probably where the drugs were stored. Tommy reached to his ankle, pulling a switchblade out of its holster, he opened it, debating whether he would sacrifice his life for the son and the mothers.. If Tommy was a true hero, it wouldn't have been a question..

And Tommy likes to consider himself a true hero.

*******fight <3

He swung back, the blade flying from his fingertips and towards the head of the man holding the gun, his neighbor, Dennis, it sliced a straight line through his forehead, and he yelped as blood sprayed down into his eyes, he dropped the gun, and six of the other men working for the company raised their guns in suspicion, Tommy waited patiently, as the guards turned the corner right as he bolted for the gun, Tommy quickly place it in his hands, finding the trigger and pointing it at the nearest guard. 

Tommy dropped to the ground, still holding the gun straightly pointed at his head and he pulled the trigger thoughtlessly, it hit the guard right between the eyes and the body fell back against the wall. Tommy turned to the other guy and pointed the gun to his mouth, stopping him in his tracks, he pressed down on the trigger, but the gun only made a loud, ‘click!’ instead of the bullet he was expecting. Tommy growled, throwing the gun to the side and dodging a bullet the man sent towards his skull, kneeing him in the crotch, grabbing his hair and pulling the body in front of him as one of the other guard’s decided to use him as target practice. The bullets hit the body and once the guard ran out of bullets, Tommy dropped the body to the side, now lifeless.

Tommy quickly made his way over to the next guard, before he could finish loading his gun and pulled it from his hands, smacking it into his head and cheek, and he crumpled to the ground. Tommy kicked him in the rib, catching the fist of another behind him and kicking him in the stomach, turning and twisting his arm until it made a ‘snap!’ and the guard groaned in pain. Tommy kicked one of his knee’s out, still holding his fist and sending the butt of the empty gun into the man’s temple, then kneeing him in the jaw and grabbing his head by the side, slamming it into the wall repeatedly until Tommy’s arm weakened and the muscle tired and burned. 

One of the men Tommy hadn’t killed got up from the floor and pulled a gun into his hands, aiming shakily at Tommy, he ducked into the kitchen behind the counter from the incoming bullets, feeling something narrowly cut through the side of his body, yet the bullet only grazed him, leaving a deep gash but hitting the wall behind him still.

Another one of the guard’s, someone Tommy recognized fully, reached for the switchblade Tommy had thrown into the forehead of the man holding the gun and forced Toms to back against the counters.

“Nowhere to run..?” Rodrick, Tommy membered him as his neighbor, the man holding the knife, held an unforgettable smirk that Toms wanted to tear to shreds. 

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and he searched his brain for any powers that could possibly help him at the moment, and once it grasped one, he lifted his hands in mock surrender. 

Rodrick smiled, holding the knife to Tommy’s throat, when Tommy started to hold the same smirk that the man did. 

“What you smilin’ for, punk?” 

Tommy tilted his head, smiling from ear to ear. He opened his mouth to talk. “ Stab yourself. Stab yourself in the neck until you can’t anymore .” 

His throat burned from speaking that way, it was unfamiliar, but he could learn how to use it the more he did. But Tommy could not describe the euphoria he felt while Rodrick before him turned the knife around and shoved it straight through his own neck, pulling it out and shoving it deeper again and again. The kitchen soon filled with the stench of fresh blood and it dripped onto the yellow tile below. Rodrick fell to his knees, dropping the knife, and Tommy quickly put his foot on top of it and pulled it close before Rodrick could fall completely against the tile. It pooled against Tommy’s shoes, a warm sensation filling the air as he wiped the blood onto his trousers.

He took a breath, sighing deeply into his cupped hands. Tommy stood carefully, looking at the absolutely thankful- yet terrified son and mother who sat tied up in the corner of the room. 

The vigilante quickly made his way over to the two, using the knife to cut the restraints and pulled the tape away from their mouths. 

Words could not describe how frozenly petrified they were, they kept their eyes on Tommy and it was clear that the two had never seen death before. 

It was clear now, these were the same gang members that Ranboo and Tommy had taken out last week.

“You two need to leave, as soon as possible. Go outside and run to the nearest police station, on Washington st. Don’t even try to call the police, they’ll take over 30 minutes to arrive.” He informed them, and the mother nodded, shaking. She held her son close to her chest as they exited the apartment, watching them leave. He made his way over to the last remaining “guard”, the one who had shakily held the gun in Tommy’s direction. 

Toms crouched low next to him, him being a kid that was probably younger than Tommy, no doubt one of the guard’s kids.

“I-I’m sorry.. Please don’t hurt me- Please- I didn’t mean to shoot you- I’m sorry-“ The boy held the gun unsteadily, yet slowly let it drop from his hands when Tommy crouched down, pulling his mask down and his hood off.

 The kid reminded him too much of himself. “Get out of here. You’re too young to be involved in shit like this.” 

“Y-you won’t kill me..?” The kid shook, with wide eyes when Tommy let him go. 

“I don’t kill kids unless necessary. But if you reveal my identity, I will be forced to kill you, ‘lright, mate?” He nodded slowly, standing up and leaving the kid in the apartment alone, Tommy wiped the blood onto his jeans, sighing carefully. He looked out the window to the men on the fire escape, peering curiously through the blinds. 

The blinds must’ve been doing their job well because the men were still talking carelessly on the fire escape, one with a plastic bag full of pills, he knew as Johnathan, and the other with a grimace, who Tommy hadn’t recognized, but he did recognize the mark on his jacket that matched the same one that the gang members did in that alleyway. Tommy pulled his mask back up and his hood on as the kid ran out of the apartment with tears in his eyes.

Tommy caught his fingers under the window, sliding it open with ease, yet much noise as well. The men turned his way with hands on the guns in the belt of their slacks, and Tommy slipped through the open window swiftly. 

“Oh hey, boys! What do we have going on here? Torture, black mail, drug dealing? Wow..impressive.” Tommy smirked from cheek to cheek, as the man with the pills lifted his gun to Tommy’s head, and his smirk fell. “Woah- so aggressive, what did I do?” he spat, with his hands still in his pockets. 

“Well shit.. it's Red!” The man with the grimace hissed, “Our lucky day, We’ve been wanting to get rid of you for months. Ever since we learned you came back from hiding-”

Tommy thought of the kids in the room, the little boy and his mother, the kid with the gun who shot Tommy in the side, he wasn’t gonna let them get away with this. “Well, let's get this over with, now?”

“Oh, nonono.. We have a very special place for you. With very special things planned. You killed our old boss, now it's time we kill you, slowly and painfully.” The man with the pills gave him a smirk, clicking the gun. 

“Well.. unfortunately, I can’t today, boys. I’m late to dinner with my roommates.” Tommy put his hand around the front of the gun, twisting the metal easily beneath his hand like it was easy. The man in front of Tommy looked up from his gun, looking at the twisted metal with fear in his eyes.

He dropped the gun from his hand, staring intently at Tommy. “How the fuck-“ 

Toms swiftly raised a palm, wrapping it around the guy’s neck and squeezing as he squirmed.

The other man’s smile dropped at his partner’s battered body, , and he turned to Tommy with a stabbing glare, Tommy dodged the first swing of his fist, leaning down and swiping his legs out with his foot, the man’s body fell onto the metal ground of the fire escape, and it rocked back and forth in protest. Tommy stepped back, taking a breath and closing his eyes for a moment. That seemed to be a mistake.

When his eyes opened, the guy had already started to rush forward, pushing his head into Tommy’s stomach and knocking him against the wall, and Tom's eye blurred. Tommy dug the knife into the man’s thigh, twisting it as the man groaned and let off of Tommy, Toms lifted his knee and dislocated the man’s jaw with his knee cap. He pushed the man to the ground of the fire escape, sitting on his stomach whilst holding the bloody knife to his throat.

“Well, this certainly was fun, but I must get going.” He sounded as though he was sad that he had to leave as he swiped the knife against the man’s throat. “It's a shame.. really.” 

The man’s hands grabbed for his throat, trying to stop the chunks of organs and blood from pouring out in big puddles of strawberry-pudding. He choked on his words as if he was trying to say something. Yet you cannot stop the inevitable . Tommy tossed the knife in his palms, fiddling with it as he climbed back through the window and into the living room of his neighbors apartment before heading back towards the door mindlessly. Tommy began to feel the aftermath of his problems, his arms were bloody and his knuckles were bruised. He couldn’t feel his hands due to the overuse of power, and the same burns that had curled around the man with pill’s arms dug deep into Tommy’s palms. Looks like he wasn’t even unharmed by his own powers.

He stepped over the bodies and grabbed the key from over his door frame before pulling his mask and hood down. He could see that a wound had seeped its way into Tommy’s sweater, and his red hoodie was now blackish-red in his stomach area. He unlocked the door, wondering how the fuck Tubbo hadn’t heard the racket. 

Shoving the door open, he limped into the apartment, “Hey Tubs..?” he winced, pulling his now blood covered sweater and hoodie over his head as he walked into the apartment, leaning against the wall in pain and ripping through the blood-stained bandages and leaving them on the floor to be cleaned up later. His wings folded out, only adding to the pain. He looked down at his torso, where long black bruises made their presence apparent with stabs of pain, and each time they did Tommy winced deep into his lungs. He looked around the apartment, seeing no one but himself. Good , he’ll have time to heal. Bad , he didn’t know where the hell Tubbo was.

Tommy used the kitchen counters to support himself through the house, and practically threw himself onto the couch, and he could hear the faint sound of sirens and red and blue filling the dark of the street. He sighed deep into his lungs, hissing as the stabbing became worse and worse.

He looked at his stomach, where a large cut went from his lower rib to his hip. It looks like he should’ve been more careful with the knife, yet this was probably because of the sharp brick he was thrown against. 

He limped into the kitchen, laying on the cold tile next to the sink, and pulling out the first-aid-kit he had for some reason packed into the apartment for this reason in particular, and grabbed the alcohol swabs and needles and stitches.

Dabbing it carefully around the long wound, the alcohol seeped into his skin and into the bloody wound that dripped down his stomach painfully. He hissed, flinching each time he touched the scarred area. He wiped the excess blood away with a towel, and held the white towel to his stomach that was no longer white, now a deep red that spread through the cloth. 

He pulled it away for a moment, preparing the stitch, but before he could, he felt his vision sway and a phone ringing in his pocket. 

He pulled the towel back to his wound, pulling the phone out of his pocket and to his ear.

“…yeah?” He winced as his words were much more pain-filled then he meant them to be. 

“Thomas? Hey, man, how was your day?” Sire- Wilbur’s voice came through the speaker, but this time coated in sugar as if he was tip-toeing carefully around a subject.

“This-“ Tommy hissed, “This is a very- Very-“ he took a deep breath in as his vision blurred again and blood started to pool on his kitchen floor. “Very.. bad time- SHIT-“ Tommy dropped the needle onto the tile, he moved a bit to grab the needle, and as he did the wound opened a bit more. 

“Tommy? Are you alright? What's happened? Are you hurt?” 

“No No No-“ He yelps, “I’m fucking fantastic! I’m fine- Wilbur really-“ 

“What's happening?” Wilbur now sounded worried and concerned, which was definitely helping Tommy at that particular moment..

“Nothing.. I’m fine-'' He saw the lock on the door twist, and he sucked in a breath, breathing it out as he saw that it was a tall barista and a short goat-hybrid college student. Before Tommy could know it, he dropped the phone out of his hand and it went skittering across the floor, getting the attention of his roommates, who turned with wide eyes and quickly ran over, saying something that Tommy was too occupied to understand.

What confused him the most was when he could see their lips moving, but for some reason he was unable to hear them, like the audio of a clip was stretched a bit too far and it didn’t line up with the video. Tommy turned his head to the side, “Boob..?” 

Tubbo had a determined look on his face, holding the cloth to Tommy’s wound and not even sparing a second to look Tommy in the eye, Ranboo crouched next to Tommy, as his vision started to blur. They held his hand in theirs, “Tommy? Tommy stay awake-“

But at this moment Toms felt like his eyelids weighed thousands, and they were just begging to let him sleep, and Tommy barely gave a protest until Tubbo pried his eyes open. 

“Sorry, Toms, but this is not how you die- you.. fuck-“ he put his hand on Tommy’s cheeks as Ranboo let their hand go, and

preparing the numbing treatment and the needle, Tubbo continued, “C’mon man, it's just a small cut, like a papercut, you’ll be fine.” Tubs insisted, tears pouring from his eyes as his jeans started to become soaked in the blood that pooled across the floor.

 For some reason Tommy was convinced he would really not be fine.

——-

An Hour Earlier.

“Tubbo- who said you were allowed to be back here?” Ranboo raised their eyebrows at their roommate, who sat on the kitchen counter of the bar, or café, which was also a bar. They poured themself a drink, water, of course. 

Tubbo gave a smirk, “I let myself in.” he pulled on Ranboo’s apron, pulling him closer, watching him with big eyes. “It's time to go home.”

“I actually let him in, what did I say about drinking in the backrooms?” Niki turned to them, uniform wet from washing dishes.

Ranboo sighed, rolling his eyes, as he repeated, “Never do it without you.” Niki pulled the glass from his hands, taking a sip. 

“It’s water?” Tubbo held a deadpan. “I’m 17, by the way, perfectly old enough to drink, thank you.”

“It's still drinking.” Another one of their co-workers, Foolish, gave them a look, and got several glares from the group. “What? What’d I say?” 

Tubbo groaned, “Boo just come on-. You have like 5 minutes of your shift left!” 

“10, actually.” Foolish corrected again, holding up his hands in mock surrender at the glares yet again, “Sorry.” 

“Are you really trying to get him to leave his job early, in front of his boss?” Niki raised a brow, an unimpressed smirk on her face, and Tubbo formed a frown on his face and he had no words. “I’m kidding,” She chuckled, “I’ve been trying to stop him from overworking himself all week. C’mon, go home with your, ‘Roommate’” Niki did quotation marks with her fingers as she spoke, pushing Boo off his stool. “Me and Foolish will take care of closing, and the others will take care of the upcoming shifts.” 

Tubbo relaxed, pulling Ranboo out of the employee’s only-back door to exit the building by the arm before he could resist and make up some excuse to why he should help. It was 7:00 now, three hours after Ranboo’s usual shifts, but that's because he always works later on Saturdays. 

Tubbo scooted into the car driver’s seat, with Ranboo in passenger as he started the car with a “Beep, Beep, Beep!” that it for some reason made whenever Tubs twisted the key, Boo says it’s broken.

“Shit, two missed calls from Toms, can you call him on my phone?” Tubbo handed Ranboo the phone whilst he drove, being the only one in the car with a non-expired drivers license.

The phone rang, and Ranboo put it on speaker so the two could hear it. ‘Hey-.’ The voice was distorted, as the voicemail came through, ‘This is Tommy! I can’t get to the phone right now but you can leave a message at the beep-‘ “He didn’t pick up.” Ranboo called again, but the same thing happened. 

Tubbo gulped deep in his throat, “Try it again-”

“Tubbo. I’ve tried three times.”

“Try it again!” Tubs snapped back accidentally, pushing down on the gas pedal. 

“Tubbo.” Ranboo repeated. “Tubbo!” The sternness in their voice became very apparent after each word.

Panic swelled in Tubbo’s head, sweat rolling down his forehead. “What?!” 

“There was a reported hostage situation and shooting by our apartment, and two of the hostages were saved by….” Their eyebrow’s furrowed, seemingly confused.

“Who..?” Tubbo briefly glanced at Ranboo. But he already knew the answer.

“Red, the vigilante.” 

——

There goes Tommy’s “ best week ever.”

Now he’s sitting on the kitchen floor, a sewed up gash giving him more pain than he thought was possible from a simple knife wound on his stomach, contemplating just shooting himself in the roof of his mouth right then and there. 

Well, not all of that was correct, when Tommy woke up, he was laid across the couch, staring at the blaringly loud Tv, since the remote’s up and down volume buttons were broken, and Tubbo hadn’t connected most of the coding he had created to control the Tv from his laptop, for now they’d just have to deal with the noise. 

When Tommy’s eyes opened enough to see the window. It was morning, sunlight peeked curiously through the blinders and the sound of talking made him curious as well, curious enough to push himself up and look towards the door. 

“Did you see any figures enter or exit the building next to yours when you arrived?” A woman in blue stood against their door frame, talking to Ranboo and Tubbo in the doorway.

“None, when we arrived the place was empty, aside from the police.” Ranboo insisted, shaking their head as if they’d had answered the same question a dozen times.

“Did you see Red, the Vigilante, at all? A person in a red hood and a mask?”

“We arrived after you, if we had seen them, then you would’ve as well.” Ranboo sighed.

“Are you sure?” The officer asked once more.

“Yes, they’re sure.” Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows in frustration and impatiently stomped his hoof. “You can leave now.”

“— If you remember anything just come down to the station and let us know.” She reminded them, but was cut off by Tubbo slamming the door. 

Tommy fell asleep before he could see or hear anything else. 

—

But loud voices soon woke him up again.

Tommy pushed himself up, barely seeing the shapes through his blurred vision, as if someone had rubbed the lens of his eyes and sabotaged him. 

“This was the work of the gang, I know it!” Tubbo crossed his arms, leaning against the countertop. “If we had just gotten here earlier-“ 

“Tubbo, don’t blame this on yourself.” Ranboo pulled his head to their chest, hugging them tightly. 

“Oh, get a room, you horny assholes.” Tommy threw his legs over the side of the couch, wincing deep in his chest. A burning feeling succumbed to his lungs, and his eyes blurred more than before, blood loss. Tommy remembered.

Tubbo and Ranboo’s heads immediately turned towards him, with looks of anger, fear, and even grief as if they had been crying a few hours before. 

“Tommy? Hey man, lay back down.” Tubbo slowly came over, holding a hand out to guide Tommy back onto the couch. 

“I’m fine- how long was I out?” He looked up towards Ranboo. 

“Two days.. The police are still investigating the scene… Tommy, what happened? They said they found 8 guys dead in the apartment next to us and 2 in critical condition..” Ranboo joined Toms and Tubbo on the couch, a worried look on their face, but mixed with a bit of that same fear as before. 

“I um.. well- I don’t know. I just went in there-“ 

“Tommy, that was you? You did that..?” Tubbo interrupted him, an almost astonished look on his face. “You k- …you killed 8 people? Tommy?”

Tommy gulped, not really wanting to respond and instead looking down at his feet, hunching over the side of the couch. He thought about it for a while, not even daring to look back up for fear that his friends, his best friends would never look at him the same. He tried to convince himself it would all be fine, but what Tommy has gone through in the last 6 years is more than most people go through in their entire lives, and he truly doesn’t know if he’ll ever recover from the shit he’s seen. 

He pulled his hood over his head, falling back into the warm comfort of the cushions, as hunger bit at his stomach, he didn’t care. He didn’t deserve to eat or drink or even breathe. Toms held his breath for as long as he could, repeating the same process for hours on end, until the living room was empty and it was late at night. 

*** self-hatred

“I’m a murderer.” 

“Tommy, you’re not a murderer.” Ranboo spoke from the kitchen, pouring themself a cup of tea and frowning. “Do you want some tea?” 

“I don’t deserve to live.” Tommy groaned, rubbing his eyes until they were raw and damp with tears.

Ranboo sighed, placing the two cups of tea down on the coffee table and sitting down next to Tommy. “Do you want to talk about it? I know I’m not the best with feelings and stu-“ 

“I told Tubbo that I don’t kill people anymore.” Tommy kept his face in his palms, sobbing. “I promised. But I broke it- I didn’t mean to kill them- I promise-“ Tommy didn’t even hesitate to lie, what the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Tommy, look at me.” Ranboo nudged Toms, pulling his arms away from his face. “Look at me.. It's okay.” 

Toms sniffled, rubbing his nose and trying not to keep eye contact, knowing that they don’t like that. “Ranboo—“ They pulled Tommy to their chest, hugging his head in their hands.

“Tommy, it's okay.” 

He sobbed, hugging Ranboo back. “It- it feels like forever- For my whole life, I’ve been trying to go home.” Tommy’s words were broken, but the meaning remained, “But- But you are my home, Ranboo. You and Tubbo are my home. No matter-r if we were here or anywhere else, you’re my home. And I’m sorry I’m a shithead person who destroys everything I love .” 

Well, Tommy wished he had said that, instead he just rubbed his nose on Ranboo.

“Did you- You just rubbed your snot on my sweater, didn’t you?” Ranboo deadpanned, the emotions of the moment fading away immediately.

“Uhhh—“ Tommy paused. “No..?” He took a sip of his tea. Ugh, he hated tea. 

“I know that look, you got snot on my sweater- Tubbo!” 

Tubbo stuck his head out from their bedroom, and Tommy could swear it sounded like he knocked a desk over in there, Tubbo looked like one of those cartoons where they sideways stick out their heads and be like, “Huh?” which is exactly what he did. 

“Can you get me a towel, the raccoon is rubbing his snotty nose on me.”

“Did you just call me a raccoon? You cunt, I’ll fucking kill you!” Oh . Tommy did not mean that, and almost exactly after he said it, the room went quiet and the laughs turned to nervous and quite frankly awkward chuckles. Tommy didn’t understand, he didn’t at all. He had killed before, certainly, and Tubbo and Ranboo had seen him do it- so why was this so different? Why did he feel so guilty? What were they not telling him? And Why did Ranboo cautiously scoot away from him?

“I didn’t mean tha-“ 

Then, Bonk! Tommy was hit in the head with something soft and brown. That was probably why they scooted away. He suddenly turned to look at the perpetrator, Tubso himself, standing in the doorway of their bathroom. He snickered, pulling his head back in as if the whole ‘I’ll kill you’ situation didn’t happen.

“Thank you Tubbo.” Ranboo pulled the towel off of Tommy’s head, wiping Tom’s nose as if they were his mother. 

“Oh fuck off- Stoppit-“ Tommy attempted to bite at Ranboo’s fingers, who only laughed, their smile warming up the tension-filled room. 

*******ED

Tommy tucked his wings behind him, briefly stretching them and taking a well-spent moment to complain about his stomach hurting, which very well could have been because he hadn’t eaten in two days.

Or, it could’ve been the 5 stitches down his abdomen.

Either way it hurt, and Tommy, whose nose was now clean and the only evidence he was crying at all were the sniffles, got up from the couch to go shuffle through the fridge. 

He opened it, immediately disappointed.

“Why the fuck do we have no food? What am I supposed to eat when I’m sad? A fucking bagel?” Tommy grumbled, kicking the fridge closed with his foot.

Tubbo walked into the kitchen next to him, frowning, “I like bagels :(” 

He sighed, opening the fridge and grabbing a bagel for his roommate.

“Tommy, I really don’t know what you expect, we moved in two weeks ago and none of us are ever home.” Ranboo flipped through the channels on the tv, pulling a blanket to cover themselves. 

***** ED

“Besides, whenever you are home you don’t eat shit, Toms.” Tubbo shook his head, taking the bagel from Tommy and taking a bite, and Tommy huffed, uncomfortable. “There you go again, being a little bitch and walking away.” 

Toms turned to face Tubbo, a grimace on his face, “I am not a little bitch,” he hissed, which was something he didn’t even know he could do, “You know how many times I’ve saved your asses? If I hadn’t killed those gang members they would’ve hurt you!” 

“We can take care of ourselves, Tommy.” Tubs snapped back as Tommy snatched the bagel out of his hand, taking a bite himself before throwing it into the trash, he knew it would make Tubbo furious, no one ever takes food from Tubbo and gets away with it. “You bastard!” 

Ranboo peaked their head into the kitchen, curiously, with a blanket covering their head like a burrito as they tip-toed like a cat. 

“Don’t you dare call me a bastard you stuck-up-clingy-bitch!” Tommy pointed his finger into Tubbo’s face, “I have been taking care of you my entire fucking life! And you are never once grateful, never!” 

“I am very grateful! Just because I am younger than you doesn’t mean I’m a baby!” 

“That's exactly what it means!” 

The two glared at each other, and Tubs turned into an angry teenager and opened his big mouth.

“I fucking hat-“ Tubbo was interrupted, as Ranboo’s phone rang, and Tommy’s eyes were wide as he realized what his roommate was about to say. 

He hated Tommy.

He hates me.

Sure, Tommy had heard those words too many times in his life, from disappointed foster and adoptive parents, from teachers, from bosses, from relatives, from strangers, but never, ever, in his 18 years of living, had it ever come from Tubbo, no, it never came from someone so god damn close.

Ranboo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling nervously as they took the phone from their pocket, putting it to their ear, and turning away from the two roommates. 

Tubbo had a remorseful look on his face before he said anything, seeing the look of betrayal on Tommy’s face, he tried to speak, “Toms, I-“ 

“I need some space.”  He limped, his wings dragging behind him. He didn’t like the big growths on his back that gave off his emotions so clearly, but he didn’t have the energy to make them “hide” at the moment. Instead he pushed open the door to their bedroom and claimed the bed as his for the night. 

Now, he really wanted to die.

___________________

“Fuuuuck meeee.” Wilbur had been waist-deep in paperwork the entire day before his coffee break, he still hadn’t had the motivation nor the energy to go and meet his brother and his father in the interviewing room, but even so, as much as Wilbur would like to deny it, they needed an assistant, badly. 

So when Wilbur saw the skinniest teenager he had ever seen, drooling asleep on a pole on the train, practically screaming ‘I need a stable job.’ he knew he had found the one. 

The first thing he noticed about the guy, other than him being tall and lanky, was the scars on his face, not big, of course, but some small ones on his chin, eyebrow and on his cheek, as if the guy had a cat or something. Other than that, he was holding his phone in his hand that looked like an iphone 6, he had a pair of headphones stuck into his ears, eye bags for days, blonde curly hair and half-open gray eyes, maybe blue if they weren’t in the worst-lighting ever.

 But besides those all, the teen had gold-colored earrings. 

And Wilbur knew pure style when he saw it.

So he woke him up, listened to the kid’s clearly made-up story, (he could’ve just said he was a poor motherfucker.) and offered him an interview at his work. He couldn’t shake a strange familiarity surrounding the teen, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Wilbur ignored it, of course, but he wouldn’t forget it, something was special about this kid, and in some way he stood out in a way that even Wil himself didn’t understand, but it felt right, it felt right to offer him the job of a century, the chance to work alongside heroes. (Well, not really alongside, more like, for , Wil may add.)

They talked for about an hour, about anything and everything, and somehow in all of that, the kid only said about 4 words, which were, “My name is Thomas-“ or whatever, Wilbur didn’t really remember. The rest was just Thomas nodding and leaning his head against the window whilst Wilbur ranted, not a care in the world. It was safe to say that Wilbur already felt a connection, sure, a strange one, but a connection regardless. 

“So that's how he became the assistant of L’manberg’s greatest heroes? A hunch?” Sam, a colleague of Wil’s, raised an eyebrow. Typing furiously on a keyboard. 

Wilbur pressed his palms together, sighing. “I’m getting to that part!” 

Wilbur felt that the kid looked at him differently when he found out he was Siren, Tommy’s eyes always met his, he always had a smirk, and his remarks were far more snarky than when he had first met him, it might’ve just been respect for Wilbur, but he found it ironically reminding him of someone that he really couldn’t remember. He just couldn’t put his finger on who made that same joke that Tommy had before- a colleague? A friend? Techno or Phil? One of the villains or vigilantes? Wilbur was head of the vigilante-control unit, when he wasn’t busy cleaning up after armed-bank robberies and investigations that he felt could be handled easily by a detective. But he never forgets a joke, he just forgets where it came from.

After Tommy’s first week, Wil had Sam search through everything the kid had online, ID’s, driver’s license, credit cards, background, warrants, all of it. It pays to work with people who can virtually find anything they want to in a few seconds. It felt wrong.

“The kids background cleaner than even yours -“ Sam paused, cautiously, before eyeing the screen and speaking again. “Wilbur? You’ll want to see this.”  He pointed to the screen, and Wil anxiously paced and stood next to him, leaning and putting his palms on the desk. Sam’s finger pointed to the Dates of all of the info, and Wilbur’s eyes narrowed looking at the screen.

He paused, “Tommy didn’t exist five years ago.” Wilbur’s eyes met Sam’s. And he nodded, scrolling down even more. 

“It's a professional job, and it would be entirely unrecognizable if I didn’t use my equipment. He must’ve paid a lot to cover up whatever he is hiding.” Sam added, but Wilbur wasn’t convinced, What can an 18 year old be hiding?

“Wait, he graduated from college at 14?” Techno called from behind Sam, spooking the two of them. 

“How fucking long have you been there?” Wil spat, rubbing his temples. 

Sam turned to Wilbur, with a deadpan look, “No cursing in my lab.” to which Wilbur replied with a huff and a ‘Yeah sure.’ and Sam wasn’t very happy about that, smacking Wilbur’s hand when he tried to touch the mouse. 

Techno raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “So you’re telling me that the new kid has a cleaner background than a professional hero? Wait, is it cleaner than min-“ 

Wil interrupted, clearly irritated. “That's not important! What's Tommy’s reason for only existing for five fucki-“ he got a glare from Sam, “five. Five years.” 

“He would’ve been 14 when he got the fake ID, driver’s license, and cleared background, the same year he graduated, meaning that we have no way of tracking him since most kids under 14 don’t have a file in our system.” 

“Most 14 year olds don’t have fake IDs.” Wilbur groaned, rubbing his forehead yet again. 

“Sounds like something you’d investigate.” Techno elbowed his brother in the side, who only gave him the worst side-eye ever. Everyone knew Wilbur hated being one of the detective-based heroes.

“Yeah, we'll search up every kid you can find with a similar name to his.” 

Techno shook his head. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to change his name to something remotely similar to his one now.” 

“So, what do you suggest? Calling him and just shouting names at him until he fucking responds to one?!” Wil slammed his hands down onto Sam’s desk, shaking it. 

“I’m saying that we should just ask him, maybe he’ll tell us why. Maybe his family was illegally brought into the country?” Tech suggested, huffing.

“ ‘Maybe’ doesn't work in the real word, Techno. Your fucking insane if you think that he won’t just lie to us.” 

“Well you’re insane for thinking a 14 year old’s background could be a danger to us, this kid was employed by you, reminder? What happened to, ‘Oh no, Techno, the kid is being abused, we need to help him’“ Techno waved his hands through the air, sarcastically talking in a baby voice.

“I do not sound like that-“ 

“That's enough.” Sam got up from his chair, looking down at his phone. “Something happened down in Logsteshire. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m sure the two of you have work to do, I have to go assist my forensics trainees.” he stomped, clearly annoyed.

Wilbur shot a glance to Techno as Sam turned off his computer, pushing past the two fighting siblings and opened and slammed the door to the lab. Techno just sighed, closing his eyes and looking to the floor. “Give the kid a break, okay? I’m sure he doesn’t want you looking through his stuff. Just go finish whatever you’re working on, I have to check out this place in Logsteshire that Sam’s talking about.” and with that, Wilbur stood alone in the lab, regretting not telling Techno to stay, and regretting stealing Sam’s computer password. 

As he typed it in, he felt guilty as ever, knowing that Tommy was just a kid, but curiosity killed the sailor. 

And ironically, Wilbur was the Siren.

_______

Tommy never liked to talk about whatever shit he had gone through in his past. 

Though it was mostly just accidentally stealing cars and buying drugs off of street corners, he did accidentally involve himself in too-many pyramid schemes, accidentally picked locks and stole shit, accidentally laundered money, accidentally gambled one too many times, accidentally sold stolen and fake art- and… accidentally killed the wrong people at the wrong time. 

Again, all accidentally.  

Well maybe not all of it. 

But it's not like it mattered in the long run, Tommy was over that, right? He was past it?

That's exactly what he asked himself in the mirror of his bathroom. 

**********ED

Soaked in sweat, having not taken a shower in three days, greasy and unkempt hair, eye bags bigger than he’d ever seen on his face before, and his stitches broken from his tossing-and-turning nap and bleeding through his tank-top and making a red-sticky mess everywhere. He leaned onto the sink, spitting out whatever was left in his stomach into it, which turned out to be little chunks of food, but mostly blood. Yummy .

“Now thats just fuckin golden, innit?” he looked himself in the mirror, blood dripping down from his mouth, and busted and bruised lip from Tubbo’s sleep paralysis. He spit out whatever blood was left, feeling his stomach turn and groan since he hadn’t eaten since before he killed those 8 people. (Not counting the bite he took of Tubbo’s bagel. It had 0 grams of sugar and 0 calories. He checked.) And looked down at his hands. 

Tom's palms held half-dried blood all over them, cracking and deep brown. He still hadn’t washed it all off when he was lying on the floor in the kitchen, dying his soul away. But he hadn’t really given a shit, pumping them up with soap and shedding a tear or two as he scrubbed it away in the sink. 

Why the fuck did the universe have to curse me?

*****Suicidal intentions

Tommy would’ve rather eaten uncooked chicken than admitted that he was considering picking up a gun momentarily, and putting 5 bullets in the roof of his mouth, and one in his stomach. But starving would have to suffice, he didn’t have any guns. 

In all seriousness, Tommy wasn’t planning suicide, he was planning worse. 

Contacting someone to help the three out with this stupid gang case. 

Why the hell does the gang keep showing up at places Tommy has been? The Adoption Center? His apartment? It was odd as fuck. 

But there was one thing that signaled that they were from the same gang. A patch. Of that he saw briefly on the jacket of one of the guys he fought at the Adoption Center, a small flame-shaped patch with weird letters he had never seen before under it. It was on the hat of that one guy he used Siren’s powers to kill. 

That felt really weird to say after so long of not killing people.

This time he didn’t even get paid. 

_________________________

Later, Wil had an interesting chat with Tommy, which ended with the phone being left on the floor until one of Tom’s roommates ended the call. He could faintly hear something along the lines of, “Did he stab himself?”

Personally, Wil chose to ignore that.

“Give me your report, Detective.” Wilbur finally joined alongside some of the heroes at the crime scene, the place was practically drenched in blood, police cars went all the way down the street. Sirens filling the air. Logstershire sucked, and Wilbur had never before been so grateful that he grew up privileged. Not only because of the blood that soaked into the floorboards, mostly the fashion choices. Embarrassing. 

Wilbur had probably seen more bodies than the next person, but these things were messed up. One had a knife wound that meant that the weapon was clearly thrown from across the room, and witnesses say it was one man. 

One fucking man.

Whomever this was, it was clear that they didn’t get along with this organization. Seeing as these “Flame” guys, as Sam had named them, all had guns on them and they still died. 

“Well uh- I think you can see for yourself- Siren..” The detective informed him, which Wilbur did actually agree with for once. “We have all three witnesses in custody, all three say that he let them go. One of them even confessed to shooting our hero.”

“And whose our little ‘hero’?” 

Techno somehow came out of nowhere, as he usually does, handing his brother a pair of gloves. “Nice of you to join the party. Y’know that one vigilante, the one you're always getting in fights with?” 

“You’re fucking with me right now,” Wil’s eyebrows furrowed, holding an offended look on his face. “Ophelia did this?!” 

“No- No..no- the other one. Dad’s twin.” Tech attempted to explain, Wilbur just not seeming to get it.

Wilbur paused, “What?” looking towards Techno, pulling the gloves onto his hands. 

“The witnesses say the guy had a red hood and a black mask on. As one even quoted, ‘Grayst eyes they’ve ever seen.’ ” His brother huffed.

“No. No- I’ve seen this work before. This isn’t Red.” 

“There's evidence someone was pushed off of that fire escape right there.” Techno pointed to the open window, a fire escape with some knocked over equipment on it held some pretty solid evidence that someone fell off of it. “Why don’t you think this is his?” 

“He wouldn’t- Wait.” Wilbur took a few steps forward, crouching in the kitchen.. “Was this ruled a suicide?” The body with a knife sticking out of the throat. Siren’s powers were used for this one, and he could feel it. He pressed the gloved hand against the throat, and felt the throb of power against his fingertips. 

Techno sighed, “What are you thinking, Wil?” He always knew his brother was up to something. 

“Don’t you recognize this, Tech?” He looked up at his brother, who narrowed his eyes and crouched down next to him. “Do you know why we’ve both been called out here today?” He paused. “Cause we aren’t just catching a vigilante, we are catching a con-artist.” 

______

Sam tossed a file down onto Phil’s desk, who grunted and looked up in confusion. Wilbur and Techno stood on either side of his desk, waiting for Sam to explain. Techno stood against the wall and Wilbur had his palms down against the desk. 

“Found our Con-Artist.” He opened the file, “His name is Theseus Kraken, one of his many aliases, of course. But we could link this one person to at least twelve other felonies, art theft, counterfeiting, and the alleged murder of 15 people, although never confirmed, along with many other petty charges. Though the alias seemed to go underground a month before Red’s first appearance in Logstershire, back last year.” 

“Makes sense, descriptions match. Young, early 20’s, maybe, gray or blue-ish eyes?” Phil seemed to pick up on the investigation very quickly.

“So, what? Ex-con just randomly changes sides? That doesn’t seem like him.” Wilbur raised a brow, crossing his arms. 

Sam smiled, “You know Kraken better than anyone, Techno, what do you think?” who looked towards Wil’s brother. 

“You wanna know what I think? Heh.” Techno paused, “I think that Theseus was one of the only people I’ve never caught. He was always a robin-hood type of guy, stealing from the rich to feed the poor. I wouldn’t put it past him if he had a change of heart and gave up a life of crime to become a vigilante. I knew he was familiar.” 

“But why? Why give up a year’s worth of self-work just to start killing again?” Wil spat. Pulling the files away from Sam and flipping through the pages.

Tech huffed. “There were two hostages, I mean, I would’ve done the same.” 

Wilbur waved his hand, explaining. “No- Not the hostages, the Adoption Center, that alleyway, the guys were scouting out- And Theseus took out nearly four of the gang’s men.”

“Ender was there too.” Sam recalled.

“Why did he?” Wilbur questioned.

“What if he hadn’t realized it? Like it's just second nature to him?” Techno stated his theory, getting cautious looks from the rest of his colleagues. “What? What’d I say?” 

“I mean, it's a stretch.. but the only thing we can legally pin on him is trespassing for entering that apartment. The other two could easily be ruled as self-defense.” Sam shrugged, taking the files back from Wil.

“Killing at least half a dozen people in self-defense.” Phil huffed, “Makes sense to me.” he sarcastically sighed.

“Well, we don’t know for sure, but for now I think our theory is pretty solid, the wounds on each of the guys are even similar, look at this.” Phil pointed to one of the photos of the dead guard in Red’s file, and pointed to another in Theseus’s file. “Same head wound. On multiple bodies, Theseus knows how to throw a knife.” 

“Heh, who knew that we’d actually be on a case together, guys?” As much as Wilbur would admit he hated doing cases, he’d always wanted to catch that son-of-a-bitch Red, and having both his brother’s help, as well as his dad’s and Sam’s as well was even better. Since Phil worked in homicide, Techno worked in Con-artist shit (Mostly assholes who stole overpriced historial pieces and made exact and beautifully copied replicas to sell to other countries, example, Theseus.), Sam was the head forensics lab-scientist, and Wil was a part of the Anti-Vigilante organization, they all had a part to play in the investigation, and of all of them were out in the field constantly. 

Phil shrugs, his eye bags telling a story of their own.“Not me. If I’d known I’d have brought more coffee.” 

Techno crossed his arms, sighing. “I would’ve brought more drugs.” 

This was going to be a long few months .

_______________

“Aww, look who crawled back to return my favor after all.” Tommy’s rival stood in the doorway of his apartment, leaning on the doorframe. He invited Tommy inside, to which the blonde rolled his eyes.

Tom’s rival wore a black, jacket and pants matching, suit, a white collared shirt with no tie and about two or three buttons undone, as if he was relaxing, he had blonde hair, short around his ears but decently untrimmed in the back, fluffy, but not curly like Tommy’s, with black fingerless gloves. To the normal eye, he seemed like your average lawyer, but to Tommy, the guy was a lifesaver. He looked relatively human, except for his slightly purple fingertips, his pointed ears, and most importantly, his deep purple eyes.

“Oh, fuck off, I’ve got 5 stitiches down my abdomen and Tubbo’s being as useless as always.” Toms groaned, taking off his coat and throwing it onto his rival’s couch as he entered the apartment. “Well shit, your place got even messier, didn’t know that was possible.” That was a lie, the place was huge, one of the most modern apartment’s Tommy had ever stole - Been in. Most modern place he’d ever been in. It was nearly spotless, and Tommy took his shoes off in the doorway.

“Well not everyone can have an apartment above right next to a drug house with asbestos and black mold growing in the shower.”  He picked up Tommy’s coat off of his couch, hanging it on his coat-rack. “What happened to your stomach?”

“How do you know about the mold?” Tommy turned around, eyeing him cautiously. His rival shrugged, crossing his arms. “Fine, I don’t care, I’m not here for small talk- It's none of your business what I do in my free time.” 

“I think it is, as I am the one who keeps your ass out of prison, most of the time.” 

Toms narrowed his eyes, “Gray, if I had any other choice I’d have already put a bullet in your head 5 years ago, but after that job you did on my ID, I fuckin owed you one for the longest time.” 

“You earned it back,” He paused, “What’s your point?” Gray closed the door behind him, locking it. “Are you threatening me?” 

“No. No- Gray. I am not fucking threatening you.” Tommy raised his hands in mock surrender, giving Gray just enough time to pat his sides down, Gray knew where Tommy always stored his guns. But for once, he reached onto Tommy’s back, feeling something poking out. 

“..Well, you’ve never stored it here before.” He slipped his hand down Tommy’s side and pulled the gun out from his belt.

“Just quizzing you.” Tommy gave a smirk, shaking his ankle. “Got one here too.” 

Gray pulled his hands away from Tommy, placing the gun down on his glass dining table. “Who are you running from?” 

“No one, more like someone’s trying to find one of us. Don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with what happened in Logsteshire.” Tommy sighed, “There's a gang, fire guys.” 

“The Flame? Little fire patch?” Gray questioned, slowly walking over to a filing cabinet against his wall, unlocking it with a key from his pocket. Tommy nodded once Gray turned back to him. “Why are you being checked out by a bunch of rich men? You’ve messed with some dangerous people Tommy, I can’t tell you why they’re after you.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, then you’d have to call in your favor…” Gray smirked, hissing slightly. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you already for even coming close to my house. Let alone inside.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you’re gonna put a bullet in my skull or chop off my fingers go ahead-“ Toms rolled his eyes, pulling all of the fun out of the situation was a trick that he had picked up on after running from Gray for months before. “If I need to call in my favor, so be it. I need these guys off of me.”

He sighed, warning Tommy. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. If not you, then you’re gonna get Ranboo and Tubbo killed.” 

“Don’t bring them into this. I need to know what these fuckers are doing.” 

Gray looked away briefly, “Fine, but you owe me for just getting me involved in this alone.” 

“If you weren’t already involved why do you have a case on them?” Tommy crossed his arms.

Gray elbowed Tommy in the side, getting a groan from the avian. “Rule number one, no questions asked on either side.” he pulled a box full of files from the cabinet, dropping it onto the table. “Here's all I have on them.” 

Tommy reached closer to pull out one file, which resulted in a hasty smack on the hand by Gray. “Rule number two, no touching with permission.” Gray handed Tommy the file. 

“Fine then. Rule number three, No keeping secrets. We’re working together now, if you know something, spill the fuckin’ tea.” Tommy opened the file, eyeing it carefully.

“Alright then, let's get started.” Gray planted his hands onto the table. “So, these guys have been responsible for at least 8 explosions at Snowchester and Las Nevadas metro stations in the last 10 years. You remember the one that took one of Ant’s nine lives?” 

Tommy gave a cautious nod. 

“Yeah, well that was them. There's even proof they’re starting to scout out areas in L’manberg as well.” He raised his eyebrows, pulling a chair and sitting down. “Bad’s Bakery, a newly bought Bakery, was the perfect place for them to start up in.” 

“Wait- That name. Bad.” 

“Y’know him?” Gray questioned curiously.

“Not a lot, what do you know about him?” 

“Well, He’s a son-of-a-bitch, but he’s not the worst guy to be allied with.”

“You’re allied with Bad? You’re fuckin allied with the metro-bomber?” 

“Tommy, he’s not the bomber- he’s a guy paid to be the face of the metro-bombing, like Shclatt, if you will.” Gray paused, “What did I say about no questions?” 

Tommy came to a realization. “He’s a double spy.” 

“That is why you’re the smartest man I know.” Gray sarcastically remarked.

“Aww, thanks baby.” Tommy mocked, glaring at Gray with a familiar fire in his eyes.

“Moving on, more about Bad. Since he’s the face of the company, no one knows who's really behind it.” He smiled, “Except me. Guess who it is?” 

“Spill it.” 

“You’re no fun.” 

“ Spill .”

He chuckled, “You’ll have to get another favor if you want me to tell you.”

“Gray I swear to fuck-” Tommy paused, and reached to his ankle. A noise came from Gray’s kitchen that he didn’t seem to notice. Tommy slid the gun out of its holder, watching the expression on Gray’s face shift.

“Tommy, what the hell do you think your doing?” 

He put a finger to his lips, raising the gun cautiously, Gray seemed to catch on, putting his hand on Tommy’s other gun and sliding it across the table silently. Tommy slid out of his chair, dropping to the ground and slowly crawling toward the wall separating the dining room from the kitchen. Gray followed, pulling the gun out of his belt and holding it close to his chest with both hands. They inched their way over to the kitchen, as Tommy raised himself up and glanced over at Gray, who nodded cautiously. Toms took a step forward, pointing his gun blindly into the kitchen, and narrowing his eyes when he saw that it was empty. Gray followed his lead, walking into the kitchen behind him and lowering his gun. 

“..No one here?” Gray raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes at the empty kitchen. 

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Toms smirked, even though it didn’t feel right to do in this situation. 

______________________

It wasn’t easy to make a connection. Of course, it did become a little bit easier when they found out that Tommy’s ID hadn’t been made until 5 years beforehand, not only that, but despite however many times he almost caught Theseus, the con, he would never forget those eyes. The baby blue eyes that were constantly mistaken as gray, and even changed shape, similarly to Phil’s. He hadn’t noticed at first, since he’d maybe seen the kid once in the meetings and didn’t even notice that he looked exactly like Theseus. He was very disappointed in himself for that.

And he could practically smell the hatred that the guy felt towards his brother, which serves him right, since Wilbur had tried to kill him more than a dozen times. Tommy did a really good job of masking it. That means Tommy is Red. But Red is also Theseus. And Techno had a lot of experience with Theseus.

But Techno wasn’t stupid, either. 

The two seemed like entirely different people, but that’s who Theseus is, an actor. A con-artist. His entire purpose serves to trick people, act like he is just a kid who hadn’t ever held a gun before, act like he wasn’t a vigilante who had killed three dozen people— maybe not that many but close— and act like he wasn’t the man Techno had been trying to catch ever since that one job in Las Nevadas, one of the best forgies Tech had ever seen. Terrifying, really. That same guy had been walking around his workplace doing whatever the fuck he wanted for a week.

And he was certainly smart, smart enough to evade the entire hero system, but maybe —If he played is cards right— not smart enough to evade Techno.