Chapter Text
The silence between them was as tense as it was boring for Tommy.
Wilbur kept opening his mouth, then closing it hesitantly—looking away then back at Tommy with an unreadable expression and then staring off into space.
Prime, it does NOT take this long to continue a conversation.
With a huff of annoyance Tommy threw a chip at the man, an orange triangular chip hitting Wilbur in the forehead. Hah, score one for Tommy you loser. “Are you done overthinking now? And stop gaping like a dying fish, it makes you look like a dumbass.” The boy stated bluntly with a thoroughly unimpressed expression lining his ivory skin. Looking like a fish is not poggers, no matter who tells you otherwise, and if they do then they're lying.
Wilbur’s empty eyes widen as he flickers incorporeal for a second upon getting assaulted with the snack, “Okay- Sorry, I just… This isn’t really something that’s easy to figure out how to talk about. It’s complicated, pretty messy, I might just confuse you and you could also think I’m lying- Even though I'm not! Anyways… Yeah. Can I just have a second?” He spluttered as he had to stop his own bag of chips from falling off (He’s hiding something.).
Tommy stared at Wilbur for a few seconds before throwing another chip at him—the snack went right through the ghost this time.
“Your second is now over. Be grateful that I gave you one in the first place, now spill it already dumbass. I don’t have all the time in the world and if I did I ain't wastin’ it on someone who’s not even as a big a man as I am.” The teen said bluntly, Wilbur’s hesitation causing the teen to hold up another chip as threateningly as possible. Fear Tommy and weep, Wil-bitch, for Tommy has chips and is ready to use it.
“Can you please not? Ugh, okay, fine, I'll just… I'll tell you what I can, alright? Me knowing your name did basically make you yell at me about 15 minutes ago, so I’ll tell you that, alright? That should satisfy you...” Wilbur said with a small sigh, the black depths of his eyes somehow conveying exasperation at Tommy’s continued antics.
“Good. Now get talking already or this time I’ll throw a whole bag of chips at you. Don’t try me bitch.” Tommy accepted with a small nod as he leaned back against the couch; popping a chip in his mouth, both his legs lounging on the coffee table but at least his right was hurting a lot less now.
Wilbur sighed as he collected his thoughts before finally starting, “Okay, so, someone told me about you.”
Now, this got Tommy’s attention (He knows.). Someone had told Wilbur about Tommy? A scientist? A guard? Was this bitch a freaking double agent like in those stupid cliché action movies no one bothers with or something? That’s-… Fine. Totally fine. If he was, then Tommy could easily handle this ghost bitch! Tommy is a big man after all. It wouldn’t matter, Tommy had just met this guy and could get around this place with ease without his help! Who needs Wilbur's help when Tommy has himself?
“They said… Certain things. But not much detail, more like just… A description of what you looked like and your personality? Though seems like both things are off, the personality mostly…” Wilbur continued, muttering the last part with a conflicted expression before going back to an exasperated calmness (He knows.).
But Wilbur quickly perked up with a sheepish and slightly forced awkward smile, “But that’s all in the past! Your pretty nice… Despite licking me—which is disgusting—and also yelling at me and calling me an egg. Your more, uh… Human than I expected-? Which- Which is a good thing, don’t worry!” He quickly added on as Tommy scowled (He Knows.).
“Well, if you didn’t want me to lick you then you should’ve kept your hands to yourself then, Wil-bitch. Hmpt. Not my problem your parents didn’t teach you to keep your hands to yourself.” Tommy said with an eye roll as he popped another chip into his mouth, “But who the hell is this ‘they’ who told you about me? Because if they didn’t tell you how awesome I am then I gotta have a chat with them. Like hell am I letting baseless rumours run amok! I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Yeah, whatever you say child.” Wilbur commented with a small snort and a smile from Tommy’s words, before an unreadable expression crossed his face and his smile faded. (He KNOWS- Shut up.).
This did not go unnoticed by Tommy and his super good vision, that and Wilbur didn’t know how to be subtle for the life of him.
“Hey. Bitch. Why are you depressed now?” The teen asked bluntly, shocking Wilbur out of his frown and state of thinking as an embarrassed smile crept across his face as he looked away sheepishly.
“Oh, uh, sorry… Never mind me, eheh… And this ‘they’ I’m referring to asked me not to share what I said to anyone and I can’t break the promise I made with them. Sorry. But, uh, hey! Let me make it up to you, let’s ditch this place already and find a way out! That sound good?” Wilbur immediately changed the subject as he stood up and put out his hand for Tommy to take after the two finished their chips. (Freedom. Take it. Then F̶̝̰̩̩̼̔̌̈́̾̒̏ͅẼ̸̢̗͙̲͓̝͈̻̯̮̫̲̖͌̾͋̂̌̓̈́͂͜͝ͅ-̶̳̣̩̖̝͉͒̎̿͐).
With a grumble, the teen took it, the skin was cold to the touch yet had a strange warmth to it just beneath the surface. Standing up, the pain in his leg was now just a dull throb and the small sparks of pain from putting pressure on it was actually manageable but Tommy’s lapis blue eyes caught on something. A box in the kitchen half next to a counter had the words ‘LOST-AND-FOUND’ on it with clothing, objects and random items peeking out from beneath the plastic lid.
“Actually, I think for my sanity I’m gonna raid the Lost-and-Found. Like hell am I wearing these stupid white clothing! It’s ugly as fuck and the stupid nerds here have no sense of style.” Tommy announced with a grin as he approached the box, pulling the lid off haphazardly as he dug around it—his ribs no longer hurting when he bent down and he just felt better now. The ghost followed close behind him with interest, peering over Tommy’s shoulder silently like a creep but Tommy let it go because he was a big man.
Tommy pulled out a white short-sleeve shirt with red sleeves with an excited expression, moving to pull off the white—and now partially red in the wrong way and grey—shirt he had, before he stopped. Wilbur seemed to get the message and moved to root around the box and turn his back to Tommy to give him some privacy as the boy pulled off his shirt and replaced it with the white and red one. Not even stopping to glance at the state of his body whether it was to look at his diminishing present injuries or the scars of the past (Coward.). Those were better off being forgotten.
As Tommy looked down at his shirt, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of his old self returning. A part of him that the scientists had crushed into dust just to make him more pliant with their tormenting for ‘science’ (Lies. They all Ḻ̷͓̥͗͋͌͜Ì̴̡̙͊̒̍-̷̪͂). Looking back up, Wilbur now had a yellow and definitely stupid looking sweater on that was a bit big on him as the sleeves hung off like paws if they weren’t bunched up.
“… You can turn back around now. Also, your sweater looks ugly, you need to get yourself some better taste.” Tommy muttered as he went into the kitchen area to see if he could find some bags because like hell was Tommy leaving HIS snacks here.
Wilbur glanced over and a soft smile graced his pale face, “I’ll take that as your way of saying, ‘Great choice Wil, you look awesome in that.’ And it’s nice we can finally wear something other than those stupid standard white shirt, pants, and socks.” He quipped before taking out a red backpack from the box, “And no need, I got a bag right here. I’ll carry our stuff, you’re probably still recovering from your injuries. You sure you don’t need your rebar walking stick?”
At the mention of injuries, Tommy’s mind flicks back to the bruises, cuts, and small injuries he got from the roof—ya know—collapsing on top of him. Glancing at himself for a second, the bruises were a lot less tender, and any cuts and scrapes had either scabbed over or were just gone. Huh. His mind must have been dramatizing his earlier injuries and pain, or something.
Sarcastically, he scoffed from where he was in the kitchen, “Nah, I’m too poggers to be bothered by stupid stuff like that.” He boasted with a smirk, “By the way, there is a stupid amount of broken plates, cups, and stuff in general over here. What, you wanted to use the kitchen as a rage room while you were looking for med-kits?” Tommy asked bluntly as he continued to look around, avoiding the broken glass and porcelain. Yeesh, the guy really needed to learn how to hold something, Tommy did not want to imagine the cost of all the broken stuff.
“Well, it’s not my fault if I was worried you were gonna fucking die if I didn’t give you first aid… You were bleeding out from several injuries dumbass.” (He thinks you are wea-) Wilbur responded, as he shoved the first-aid kits and snacks into the backpack and would probably be eyerolling if he had pupils. Or irises. Or just eyes in general.
Tommy rolled his eyes, “I was not going to ‘fucking die’. You are so dramatizing it, I feel fine and I’m walking around now, aren’t I? And it is your damn fault you were over-reacting, don’t blame it on me prick.” He retorted as he continued looking around before pausing at an unopened bottom cabinet and freezing upon seeing the contents.
“Geez, what, you want me to say ‘Oh I’m so sorry Tommy that I was concerned for your life and the fact you were bleeding like hell but now that you’ve said you feel fine that means your obviously completely okay, I am so, so sorry.’?” Wilbur teased with a grin, oblivious to Tommy staring at an all too familiar pill bottle (No.).
The clear orange body displaying the pills and the easy to take off white cap mocked Tommy, the codename ‘L06-4413’ on the side was a taunt to what he was, no what he is- (Yes. Don’t. It won’t-). “But I’m glad you’re feeling better. You must be stronger than you look Tommy! Well, I’m all but done now. Shall we depart?” Wilbur continues, Tommy is flung out of his frozen state as he quickly and silently- (Wait-) takes the bottle- (Don’t-) pulls off the lid and- (Stop it-) puts a white and red pill in his hand- (NO- STOP-) and then- (NO-) puts it in hi- (DO NOT-) -s mouth and- (STOP, STOP STO-) swallows.
“Yep. There was basically nothing in here now, you didn’t do a half-ass job looting the kitchen, Wilby.” Tommy remarked with a forced, mischievous grin. He slipped the pill bottles lid on it and then into his pocket as he stood up to face Wilbur who was standing at the door. Tommy didn’t allow a trace of his previous expression on nor any hint of guilt at his actions into his voice.
“Oh, so I’ve been promoted from ‘Wil-bitch’ to ‘Wilby’, eh?” The ghost teased as Tommy moved to join him at the door before the two left, walking down whitewashed corridors with no need to rush. There weren’t exactly any threats out at the moment so a second of peace was well deserved after the shit storm that was whatever that happened earlier. Prime, Tommy would kill for his old Switch so he could relax and play Animal Crossing—and terrorize Tom Nook—but you can’t always get what you want.
“Don’t push it Wil-bitch.” Tommy snarked with a smirk, earning a wheeze of laughter from Wilbur.
Once the man stopped laughing, he patted Tommy on the back, “Yeah, yeah, I mildly put up with your company too, gremlin child.” Wilbur said with a smile, not noticing Tommy suppressing a flinch from the casual touch.
The pair walked in silence, there wasn’t exactly much to talk about when you were walking down boring, repetitive hallways with identical doors; the blood stains and occasional damages to the area wasn’t exactly something to be talked about. After a couple more minutes of relaxed and casual silence, they finally enter an area that was a bit different.
The hall opened into a larger room with a desk on the end, papers scattered about, a few chairs, trolleys and boxes littered around the room. It was no doubt some kind of reception area of sorts at some point. There was blood stains on the surfaces of the room, a partially caved in roof with exposed wiring, and the room being almost completely dark. All of the lights were either broken or just not functioning so that left much to be desired for the room.
“… Well someone had a tantrum in here…” Tommy commented, moving to go check out the desk. He eyed the black feather that had found itself in the screen of one of the receptionist desks computers. That’s pretty weird-champ, who let some sort of pissed-off bird in here? Wilbur just nodded in agreement as he walked over before he started searching for something he could use to get some light.
Wilbur started digging through the cabinets of the desk, pulling out drawers and looking for something. Upon opening one of the top drawers, his eyes (if he had any) lit up—there was a keycard in it, they keycard was white with a yellow stripe and had the word ‘RECEPTIONIST’ scrawled on it. As soon as he went to reach for it, Tommy immediately swept in and snatched the keycard.
“Mine!” He exclaimed victoriously; he couldn’t help but laugh at the face Wilbur made due to Tommy’s super poggers theft. Crimes are always okay if it’s for comedy, kids. Turning the keycard over in his hands, Tommy stared at Wilbur smugly and waited for him to say what it was being used for, “Sooo… What is it used for?”
“… Did you seriously just steal a keycard without even knowing why I wanted it or what it could be used for you, raccoon?” Wilbur asked with a deadpan expression. Yes Wilbur, Tommy did indeed steal the keycard without knowing what it was used for because it would be funny. Yikes, this guy needed to learn what the hell a joke was.
“That’s beside the point. Just tell me what it can be used for, alright?” Tommy said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he sat down on the receptionist’s desk.
With a small sigh, Wilbur finally explained, “That card is a level yellow keycard. Different coloured keycards can access more things. Black can open basically anything and is for bosses, green can open basically nothing and is for visitors. Yellow is a step above green. It can’t do much, but it’ll help us get to more areas so we can find more keycards.”
“That’s cool, though red would be more awesome as the highest level keycard. Black is just boring.” Tommy commented after taking a moment to understand what Wilbur had just explained, don’t blame Tommy if he isn’t good at this stuff. It’s not every day someone explains something as boring as keycards to you.
“Yeah, whatever gremlin. With this keycard, we should be able to get around a bit better since we have been a little restricted only going down hallways that either have no doors or broken doors.” Wilbur reminded with a thin amused smile as he sat down on one of the chairs and started fooling around with the unbroken computer at the desk.
“Hey! I am not a gremlin!” Tommy protested with a huff. He was a big man! The biggest of men and haver of wives! He was no child! Hmpt, fucking jerk. “So… What are you doing on that computer thingy?”
“Trying to see if I can brute force my way in, all the lights in here are either broken or hopefully just turned off.” He started, gesturing to the unbroken lights absentmindedly, “I want to see if I can try and turn them on because like hell am I trying to find the light switch in here, it’s fucking pitch black. Besides, maybe then I can turn on other lights in this floor.” The ghost explained as translucent fingers flew across the keyboard, Tommy pushed off of the desk and started wandering around the room. Sure, it was dark, but it wasn’t that dark to him. Dramatic bitch.
“Sounds like a you problem, Wilby. I’m gonna loot this place. Maybe someone dropped something cool here that I can steal.” Tommy said boredly as he began rummaging around, occasionally glancing at Wilbur as he worked on the computer. Tommy paused as he found a folder labelled ‘PRISONER LOG’ and it was full of a lot of numbers, names, and checkmarks in the deceased box. “Hey, Wil?... I got something I want to ask you. How did you end up here?” Tommy asked, almost hesitantly but he couldn’t just not ask. What if this dude was evil? Or… Maybe like Tommy?
That seemed to strike a nerve as Wilbur went still, empty eyes staring at the dim computer screen, “… How did you end up here?” he parroted. That was fair. This place hadn’t been kind to Tommy, so he doubted it would have been kind to Wilbur either.
“… My parents died when I was 8.” Tommy stated bluntly, Wilbur looking up and opening his mouth, “Say ‘I’m sorry’ and I will throw this folder at you. There was nothing you could’ve done about it so don’t give me your pity. They died”—he sighed— “and I can’t change that.” He quickly interrupted, not wanting another person’s automatic pity that Tommy had already heard so many times before.
With a sigh, the boy continued, “After they died, I was I the foster system for ages… Maybe 3 years, I think? I don’t know. I just know that one day I was getting fostered and they said they were going to adopt me.” Tommy admitted, Wilbur patiently listened to Tommy’s monologue and didn’t try to interrupt again.
“That probably should’ve been one hell of a red flag since they decided it really early on, they asked my social worker all sorts of weird ass questions about my health and played the picture-perfect parents until everything was sorted out and they didn’t need to worry about CPS kicking down their door.” Tommy started to rant with a small huff, a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“After a few weeks, I remember one day I was eating dinner, I had just finished and then everything went black soon after and I woke up in one of the cells here. I never saw them again. But good riddance, amiright?” He explained with a small, strained smile, he never really liked splurging out his depressing origin story, but he might as well, Wilbur was okay enough.
After thinking for a moment with a pensive expression, Wilbur finally opened his mouth, “I was a death row prisoner. I-I did some bad shit. I… I don’t really want to tell but you don’t have to worry about me trying to hurt you. I’m better now. I came here as a glorified lab rat because I was a life they could throw away… I’m sorry you got betrayed by the people who were meant to help you Toms. That must have sucked.” He admitted as he looked away, shame weighing down on his shoulders upon mentioning being a prisoner.
The pair stood in silence. One an orphan with bad luck and dealt a bad hand in life, and another a death row prisoner who was ashamed for his crimes and paid the price. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. Suddenly, some of the lights flicked on, Tommy winced at the brightness as Wilbur pumped his fist into the air triumphantly, “Yes! It worked!” Wilbur exclaimed in triumph as he stood up and joined Tommy in the middle of the room.
With a groan, Tommy half-heartedly and weakly punched the ghost in the shoulder, “Yeah no fucking shit sherlock, you basically gave me a damn flash bang.” He grumbled in annoyance, now aware of the dull throbbing in his body as he rubbed his eyes—annoyed by the new brightness level.
“Complain later Tommy, at least now we know what level we’re on!” Wilbur beamed, as he pointed at the wall behind the receptionist desk, the words ‘Pandora Laboratories – Creating tomorrow—Today!’ in large font with the letters ‘LEVEL 6’ beneath it, Wilbur’s smile faded slightly. Both of them seemed to stare at the name of their personal hellscape for a few seconds, a feeling of cold deep-seated anger that Tommy could feel dwelled beneath the surface. He didn’t acknowledge it as they both looked away from the box like logo of their tormentors.
“We go up 5 levels and we’re out! How great is that? Sure, there is probably a shit ton of security, other experiments running rouge, and who knows what else… But it’s a start!” Wilbur continued with a grin as he cheered up, a small flicker of, what was it—hope? —flickered in Tommy’s chest. Out... Freedom… Tommy had thought those words lost their meaning ages ago but seems not now. A grin spread across the teens face.
“Hell yeah! So, we just need more keycards, right? This level is basically deserted so let’s go loot! I’ll use our handy dandy keycard to look around. You know this level’s lay out well enough Wil, so let’s split up and search for anything interesting!” Tommy agreed with a bright smile. Maybe… Maybe things would work out after all. Nodding in agreement, Wilbur immediately went down the right corridor and was flickering in and out of existence with excitement. Show off, but Tommy supposed he could let it slide because of he was in a good mood right now. He was still cooler after all.
Tommy went down the left corridor, using the yellow keycard to open the doors that accepted the card, only being allowed to see boring offices, some supply rooms with unfortunately no weapons, and some rooms which were just empty. As Tommy continued to walk for what seemed like forever, there seemed to be more blood stains, broken lights, and what signs of a fight increase increasingly. It was creepy to say the least, but Tommy kept exploring, as if he could just return empty handed!
But it was starting to get… Concerning. What was this, a cringy horror movie? Tommy trekked on, now having to avoid debris, blood stains, and broken glass. He wasn’t scared just… Annoyed that someone had spilled so much, at least try to be considerate to the cleaning crew if your gonna bleed out and die! His pace slowed as the stench of blood and flesh increased; it wasn’t so much disgusting as it was just unnerving and uncomfortable.
Tommy immediately froze as he felt like there was a weight now pressing onto him, looking around there wasn’t anything nearby, but he could feel the acute sense like something was close. Something deep and primal in him knew that something was close. He shook his head, trying to escape the feeling as he pushed forward before rounding a corner and stopping dead in his tracks. All the lights were broken but the smell painted the scene perfectly, the hallway was splattered with blood, guts, and gore as someone—or something—stood in front of a pile of corpses. A large fire-axe was held in strong hands and was coated in enough blood that not even a horror movie team could replicate it.
Tommy couldn’t move an inch as he stared at the large man, long pink hair trailing down their back in a messy braid and as soon as their head turned and cold ruby red eyes regarded him with a silent ferocity, Tommy knew one thing and one thing alone.
He was no longer on top of the food chain.