Chapter Text
Tommy knew he was alone. Most people either left or betrayed him, and those
that have couldn't care less about him. He had no true place to stay.
L’manburg being the destroyed nation that it was, left no place to belong
Tommy had walked back to the old dirt shack, somewhere he once thought he
was safe. As he reached for the oak doors, He paused, wondering if what he
was doing was right.
He’d thought about it so often, one would mistake it for a mindset. He
didn't know if he could ever be forgiven for what he had planned. In a way
, what he considered a plan was an overstatement, for he had only an idea
for what he wanted to do before the month reached its end.
The murmuring in the back of his head only got louder when he was walking
into L’manburgs lines, by the time he was close enough to see the pathetic
dirt shack, the small murmurs had been replaced with an army of
suggestions, getting louder with every step he took toward the shack. The
Voices only quieted when Tommy had gotten close enough to the door that he
was in reaching distance to the doorknob.
The unexpected quiet was peaceful, serene even, but serenity wouldn’t last,
it never did. His breath shallowed, and his hand closed slowly onto the
doorknob, he opened the door with full caution, not knowing if someone or
something was inside.
As he opened the door, a cold chill that blew through the house seemed to
bring the murmurs back with it. The murmurs were more like yells, but he
pushed the voices aside and searched for the things he had come for.
He started his anticlimactic search, digging through every chest. It was
always a disappointment, the chests always filled with unnecessary items
such as feathers, blocks of hay, and an emerald with a short lived past. He
finishes his search, finding only two items with any sort of value; a
couple cobblestone blocks and a light purple flower he could hardly
remember.
He was about to give up his search, holding his head in his hands, looking
directly to the ground, before something caught his eye. The edge of a
chest. Just slightly out of view, hiding pitifully under another chest.
Tommy cursed his past self for being naive enough to hide a chest
underneath a chest.
He pushed the top chest to the side, and swung open the chest underneath.
Tommys eyes gleamed at the sight of his search being finished. He picked up
the parcels with careful hands. He had then realized he hadn’t made a plan
for when he reached this moment. He had decided to do what his natural
instinct had told him to do; he bolted out the door.
~Tommy had always looked up to Wilbur, even when they were still in
Pogtopia. Wilburs golden eyes had always shined so brightly, no
matter the situation. The only time Tommy felt sincerely worried for Wilbur
was when he started talking about blowing up L’manburg, that was when
everything had started its downward spiral.~
-Tommy had successfully found what he had been looking for; A long
brown trench coat and beanie from Pogtopia times.-
If anyone had seen him run, they wouldn’t necessarily wonder why he had run
by so fast, but if they had, they didn't question.
The wind sounds like howling as he bolts out of L’manburg, leaves
crunching beneath his feet. Tommy doesn't know where to run, he has no idea
where he is running. He's running on paths he hasn't run on in a while. He
hears footsteps other than his own, much lighter than his own, He panics at
the sound of the steps and freezes , tripping over his own feet from the
standing velocity. His body falls onto his own knees, seeing a flash of
brown and gray before hitting the dirt floor.
A raccoon. A single raccoon had tripped him. He felt pathetic. Only once
he had gotten up from the ground did he realize he didn't know where he
was. In a spur of panic, he looked around him, his eyes darting from tree
to tree, trying to get a grip on where he was.
After looking desperately for some type of landmark, he saw it, the wall to
Pogtopia. Tommys worried expression fades and is replaced with a more
excited face.
He ran towards the door, excitement taking over as he nears the wall. He
grabs the shovel out of his satchel and dug the doorway out. It took a
minute or two before he could step inside the holed out room.
Tommy steps inside, beside him to his right is an orange bed, to his left
was a small wooden chest, ender chest and multiple furnaces. He starts
walking straight ahead of him, towards the set of spiral stairs going down
to the spacious room called Pogtopia.
Tommy can't help but notice the immense amount of buttons still lingering
on the walls, all placed by Fundy, ordered by Schlatt. Tommy grimaces at
the name fouling his thoughts. He pushes the thought aside and continues on
down the long corridor.
The cold from the underground finally started to nip at him with zero
sympathy. Tommy, realizing that he does in fact have Wilburs old trench
coat, puts it on slowly, small amounts of anxiety bubbling in his chest.
Wilbur never let Tommy try on His trench coat with only the reason of “stop
being annoying Tommy.”
He held the coat close, it felt like a blanket of safety had been placed
over Tommy. The coat didn’t smell like anymore, it smelled of the old
wooden box it had been sitting in for over a year.
Tommy looked around after a moment, trying to remember everything that had
happened in the cavern. He remembered the bad things and the good things.
He remembers the pit, the fist fight he had with Technoblade, the short
lived pain before he slipped under sweet subconsciousness.
He didn't really want to think about Technoblade, he was just another one
of the names on a list of never ending traitors. At times, he didn’t know
who had been the traitor when talking about Technoblade but the voices had
told him that he was in the right, it was Technoblade that had betrayed him.
The voices didn’t stop, they just continued on and on about Technoblade.
When Tommy had tried to subside the voices, they just got louder and
louder, to the point they were yelling louder than anything Tommy could
imagine. Tommy immediately shot his hands up to cover his ears in a futile
attempt to quiet the yelling.
Tommy collapsed to the ground, curling into what felt like a fetal pose,
wishing it would all get quiet again. He started to panic and went into
full panic, his memories flashing in his head. Hearing both Technoblades
and Wilburs loud yelling, the memories flood back to Tommy. Memories Tommy
didn’t want to remember.
“...The thing about this world, Tommy,is that the only universal language
is violence, Tommy, And we’ve had that conversation, we’ve spoken that
language, in the pit….”
“Tommy, Let's be the bad guys……”
“...Do you think you’re the hero, is that what this is… you just wanted
power…”
“It's not your time to die yet, Tommy”
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The words came flooding back to Tommy, they hurt, they hurt so bad.
Technoblade, his oldest brother, now someone who wouldn’t trust him with a
mere strength potion..
Wilbur, another one of his brothers, killed by the hands of his own father.
Tubbo, His ex-best friend, the one that had exiled him, practically left
him to die.
He could go on and on, name for name, each way that they had hurt him, but
he doesn’t have time for that, I mean, he has to make a plan. Maybe the
calm of the cavern would help him focus, then again he has never been known
as one to focus at all.
But he needs to focus, he needs a plan. He needs to start his plan.
The plan to blow up Snowchester