Chapter Text
Tommy was running, his old sneakers hitting the sidewalk. They were nearly falling apart, holes littered them, and Tommy's bright red socks could be seen through them. Their flapping soles created a loud snapping sound that drew eyes his way with every step, but he couldn't bother worrying about that right now.
It was still early in the day, and Tommy really did not want to be awake right now. After patrolling into the very early morning, he was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. Nevertheless, Ranboo had put Tommy in charge of finding himself a job. The money Ranboo had been pulling in wasn’t enough anymore, not after Tubbo left, so Tommy needed to find himself a place that was willing to work around the odd hours.
Considering the fact that he was currently running from an angry shopkeeper, he wasn’t sure he was succeeding.
It wasn’t his fault, Tommy was sure of that. It was the shopkeeper through and through. After spending hours searching for a job, that man had turned him down right then and there the moment he realized Tommy wore a hearing aid, which was ableist bullshit.
Thus, Tommy had a slight lapse in his judgement and punched the man in the nose. For a moment, he watched the blood drip down, the red liquid splattered across the man’s face. Then Tommy began to run.
He had been running for over fifteen minutes, weaving his way in and out of the crowd. A shop caught his eye. He knew that place--the owner was overwhelmingly nice, and Tommy was sure that she would allow Tommy in if needed.
Tommy sprinted. He could beat the man up, sure, but bruised knuckles didn’t look good at an interview. He threw out an arm, yanked the door open, then ran in. “Puffy!” Tommy nearly yelled, a hand kept bracingly on the door as the earlier shopkeeper banged on it. “A little help here?”
Puffy, in all her 5’2 glory, stepped out from behind the counter. A sort of fire burned in her eyes. No one messed with her customers, Tommy had learned. No one. Not even if that customer was a mysterious freeloading child.
She braced her arms against the door. Tommy had often wondered if she had some sort of strength enhancement, but no. That was just Puffy. Puffy threw her body against the door, holding it in place, then yelled some curses at the shopkeeper. Something about how you shouldn’t attack kids, and that she couldn’t allow him to enter, the likes.
Tommy was thankful for her. He’d grown up in the system. He’d never had a real mother of sorts, but he’d like to think Puffy was the closest he’d ever get.
After several minutes of this and Puffy threatening to call the police, the man finally relented. All of the energy seemed to seep out of Tommy, and he nearly dropped to the ground, putting a hefty amount of his weight on Puffy. She simply wrapped an arm around him, glared at the customers who were staring, then helped Tommy to the backroom.
The backroom was nice. It was cozy, much in the same way Puffy’s whole café was. It had couches and books and small games and everything Tommy wished his home could be. The backroom provided a sort of comfort that was hard to put into words, and Tommy was content to just allow himself to indulge in it.
“Are you okay?” Puffy asked, pushing Tommy gently onto the couch. She grabbed his chin, looked into his eyes, and examined his face.
“Ye-” Tommy started, but Puffy had already continued.
“Who am I kidding, of course you're not okay , I just mean are you physically well? Did he hurt you? Because I will go back and punch that man, I swear to you Tommy--”
Tommy laughed, a bit awkward but touched. “I’m good, Captain.” Captain was a nickname Tommy had called her for so long he no longer remembered the reason it had come about in the first place.
Puffy’s face softened, and she smiled slightly. “I’ve got to go back out, but my worker comes off break in five minutes, they went to go call their sibling or something. Then I’ll be back for you, okay Tommy?”
He delivered a single nod in response, rocking back and forth slightly. He turned down the volume on his hearing aids, drowning out the slight noise from the cafe. Instead, he stared at his phone, debating on whether to call Ranboo. He decided against it. Ranboo was still at work, and after the amount of fiascos Tommy had caused this morning, bothering him would do more harm than good.
Tommy breathed in, then out. The man was terrifying, and not in the way the criminals he faced were scary, but in the way his foster parents had been scary. He was loud, and he didn’t give Tommy a chance to talk, and had already settled on his opinion of Tommy from a single glance.
The break room was quiet now, with his hearing aids nearly all the way turned down, he didn’t hear Puffy walk in. She crouched near him, and when she said something, her lips moving, Tommy forced himself to pull his mind back to the present. “Sorry,” he whispered--or maybe yelled, volume was sometimes hard to control. He dialed the hearing aid back up, and Puffy’s voice faded in again, soft but confident.
“--don’t have to be sorry,” she said, brushing a bit of flour off her own cheek. “I asked why that man was chasing you.” Puffy raised his eyebrow. “And why that very same man happened to have a bloody nose.”
Tommy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was looking for a job,” he said. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. “He may have said something about, y’know, this.” Tommy gestured at his hearing aids, “and I also may have punched him. But only because he was a bitch.”
“Well,” Puffy said, laughing slightly, “I’m not really supposed to tell you to punch people, but he might have deserved it.”
“He totally did,” Tommy said.
“Why are you looking for a job?” Puffy asked, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. “I thought you said you had money covered?”
Tommy’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Yeah. That was totally not a lie. Never. I am a big man and would never lie, or be poor. I am the least poor--”
“You can tell me, Tommy,” Puffy said, smiling slightly. “I don’t care.” She stood up, brushing flour from her black pants. “But if you do need a job, a worker of mine is having family issues, so they can’t come in for a month. I do need another person on deck, so if you wouldn’t mind…”
The invitation left unsaid was obvious, and Tommy nearly let his jaw drop open. Somehow, he, the great and sometimes over the top Tommy Innit had managed to earn a job. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Do I need to repeat it?”
“Nope, nope, definitely not, I will take that job. You are so very lucky to have me Puffy.”
Puffy smiled. “I am.” She held her hand out to the door knob, readying herself to turn it. “You start tomorrow. Ten AM, on the dot.” She turned the handle, walked through the door, and Tommy was alone.
-----
The moment he left Puffy’s, Tommy went to the park. This particular park had been there for as long as Tommy had been in the area, and was looked after by several people that took pity on Tommy. Tommy suspected that they assumed he was homeless. If Ranboo lost one more of his jobs, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
Anyhow, Tommy wouldn’t have to worry about that for a bit. He had by some small miracle been given a job, no interview needed, with people he knew and respected him. All in all, it was probably the best possible outcome.
Tommy inhaled. The air in the park was pleasant, a slight breeze to it even in the summer months. The wind smelled like flowers and the food that was sold in trucks all around the park. It was nice. Tommy Innit was never one for serenity, but even he couldn’t deny the sort of peace there was when sitting on a park bench.
Against his will he remembered sitting there with Tubbo. Nights were spent on picnic blankets, sitting and staring at stars, buying sweets and telling stories and pretending the world was theirs to conquer.
And perhaps it had been at one point. Perhaps there was a time where reality bent to their will, and they could do anything they wished, and it would turn out fine. But not anymore. Not since Tubbo left and their friendship shattered like a mirror thrown to the ground.
It was barely noon. The sun shined down on Tommy, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes. He couldn’t go to the park with Ranboo, not when Ranboo was so recognizable, and even if he could, Tommy wondered if it would somehow be disrespectful to the careful tradition he had crafted with Tubbo.
The bench was hot in the sun. It was dark, and a sort of metal, and Tommy felt the burn against his back. He didn’t mind though. These days, he would do anything to feel warmth and pretend the person who used to cause it was still there.
One of the park rangers walked by, waving to Tommy. Tommy attempted a smile in return. He should be happy, he really should, but--he couldn’t be. For no particular reason whatsoever, his smile felt a little fake, and his emotions couldn’t reach his eyes.
He glanced at his phone. Ranboo would be on break right now. He could call him. He should.
Logically, Tommy was aware that Ranboo wouldn’t be upset. In fact, the taller boy had often urged Tommy to call him, no matter what was happening. Nevertheless, Tommy couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t wanted.
He stared at his phone. It would be so easy, just to press a couple of buttons.
Tommy shook his head and started the long walk home.
-----
Most days he spent patrolling. The apartment was small and cramped, a constant reminder of all that Tommy didn’t have. Filled with peeling walls, empty spaces, and a single unmade bed.
Tommy tapped his fingers, bounced up and down on the tips of his toes. He needed to do something, anything. His body wanted to move, and who was Tommy to deny it that?
He rushed to the small area they called the bedroom. It wasn’t even truly a bedroom. As much as Ranboo and Tommy tended to refer to areas by their proper name, it was more just places with certain equipment that had been sectioned off. Curtains fell around the small mattress, keeping it semi-separate from the rest of the single room apartment.
Tommy walked to the mattress and lifted it up. Most days, Tommy’s vigilante wear was kept under there. In all honesty, it wasn’t much that most people would blink at. Even if someone unwanted did find it, the clothes were so painfully normal that it would be near impossible to build a case out of.
He pulled the clothes on--being in his gear always made Tommy feel more secure. With them on, Tommy wasn’t just that kid who couldn’t hear anymore, that got pity offers of food or financial help. No, with them, Tommy was a hero, a savior, someone who could do good in the world.
Tommy stared out his window at the city he called his own. He admired the way the brightness of the afternoon sun highlighted each and every building. The city belonged to him as much as he belonged to the city, and it was Tommy's duty to protect it.
He smiled softly at the way the curtains defused the sunlight and lit up the room, but the walls were stifling.
He stepped carefully out of the window, then climbed the fire escape to the top of the roof. The apartment building was medium height in the area Tommy was in, and it was perfect to jump off of.
He jumped, rolling into a ball as he hit the next rooftop.
Most rooftops were flat there. With the issues about population arising, roofs were kept flat as it was easier to build atop of if more space was required. If it rained, it was sometimes a pain to clean out, but most of the time it managed to wash off.
The first night Tommy had gone on patrol, he had been terrified. He was younger than he was now, starting at the ripe age of thirteen. Back then he was a kid who had no idea what he had gotten himself into, but wanted to help his city and show that the so-called “heroes” weren’t the only type of protection available.
If it hadn’t been for Tubbo, Tommy may not have survived his first few vigilante excursions.
Then again, if not for Tubbo, Tommy wouldn’t be wanted by the government.
Tommy shook his head, as if he could shake the bad thoughts away. Tubbo had made his choice, and Tommy had made his.
He jumped from roof to roof, watching as pedestrians caught sight of him and gasped in awe. He smiled as a small kid stared at him, their mouth open in surprise and admiration.
Most in this district knew of Tommy. Originally, Tommy had begun his work as a vigilante to show the hero bureau that they weren’t needed, as a sort of protest to the way they kept the city within a closed fist, protecting only the areas where money came in and ignoring the other fifty percent. It was a calculated move on their part--only those in power had any say in the government after all, and those in Tommy’s district certainly did not possess any of that.
He remembered the conversation he had with Ranboo last night.
“When are you going to stop?” Ranboo had asked, mixing cheap protein powder into his oatmeal.
Tommy had looked up. “Stop what?”
“You know what.” Ranboo stirred the mixture, grimacing as he took a bite.
Tommy crossed his arms. “I very much don’t, fuck off.”
Ranboo tilted his head. “Patrol. Being a vigilante. Saving people.”
Staying silent, Tommy fiddled with the piece of string in his hand. He had attempted to pick up crocheting for a while, as a way to make them cheap wear in the winter, but more often than not he ended up wasting materials.
“You can’t do this forever Tommy,” Ranboo sighed. “It has to come to an end at some point. It’s too dangerous, and if things keep going like this, I’m afraid you won’t stop until it's too late.”
Tommy huffed. “I know my limits.” He ignores the memories that flash through his head, bruised ribs and broken arms that were never set properly, debating whether medical help was worth skipping a week's worth of food for the both of them.
“Do you?” Ranboo asked.
Tommy stayed silent.
Tommy inhaled sharply. He knew his limits, he would stop when this was all over, when the heroes did their job and people were safe and the prison, that prison, with the innocent people locked away would--
He paused. It wouldn’t happen. He knew this, somehow, slightly. No matter how much work he did, how much coverage he gained, how much awareness he spread, it wouldn’t matter. Tommy was from the lower district. Tommy was poor. Tommy had lost his full hearing.
Tommy grimaced, shaking his hands slightly. He didn’t like those thoughts, the ones that sprang up upon him without rhyme or reason. Instead he redirected his energy towards patrol.
Most of the city was still buzzing; bright and loud even as the shops began to close and happy customers flooded out.
Tommy smiled. This was his city. The place he had grown up in, the place that had raised him when foster parents and orphanages failed to.
In the corner of his eye, Tommy caught sight of a man in an alleyway. He was bent down over something, some sort of bag. What the contents of the bag were, Tommy had no idea.
Tommy swung by, careful to stay on the tips of his toes, muffling all noise he made. People on the streets walked by, laughing jovially, and the sound seemed to echo throughout the entire street.
The man pulled out a device. Buttons on it flashed red, and the man tapped on his ear twice. Tommy caught a glance of a black earpiece, the flashing red syncing up with the small remote. The man opened the bag, and Tommy stared at the contents, confused.
They were small little circles, covered with the same little red flashing the rest of the man’s technology seemed to have. Tommy stared down, trying to guess what on earth they could be used for.
Creeping down quietly, throwing his fingers into the cracks between bricks, Tommy lowered himself down the alleyway, staying out of the way of the sun, so as to not cause a shadow.
Obviously he hadn’t done it quietly enough.
The man looked up sharply, an expression forming on his face Tommy couldn't quite pick apart.
“Come down here,” the man called, quiet. “We’ve been waiting to meet you.”
Tommy froze. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? Against his better judgement, Tommy continued his way down, staying only feet above the mysterious man. “Waiting for me?” Tommy asked. He chuckled, but it was more an exhale of air, nerves seeping through. “For what? How do you even know who I am?”
The man stared up at Tommy, holding the bag in his hand. “Why, everyone knows of you. You don’t even have a name yet, and somehow you still manage to stop every crime in the lower districts.” The man gestured towards the bag. “Well, I think it’s time we stop that.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Tommy said, his hands shaking slightly. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re about to do, but--”
A single smile in return. “Farewell,” the man said, “for I cannot stay.” He grabbed the bag tightly within his hands, a manic smile on his face.
“What the fuck are you--”
A lot of things happened at once.
The small electronics from the bag went flying into the air, the red flashing increasing in speed.
The man saluted, mockingly, before a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, seemingly from nowhere.
And Tommy realized what the red flashing was eerily similar to.
The small red dot flashed on and off, and although there was no way to tell, Tommy knew instinctively that these things were bombs. Beeping started up, increasing in speed, loud and overtaking, and Tommy’s decisions had practically already been made for him.
Time slowed around him, moving so slowly most would assume it was completely locked in place. Tommy dropped to the bottom of the alley, staring up at the man. The man’s wrist was held by someone else’s hand, the fingers gripped tight around it, as if the owner of the hand was scared of losing its grip. The man’s face was pulled into a grin, a sort of metaphorical fire burning in his irises. Tommy knew that this man was the type to let the world fall, no matter who was in it.
Tommy inspected the hand. It seemed to appear from a sort of portal, so Tommy guessed that the portal owner's power may have something to do with teleportation. Great, in theory, but they hadn’t counted on Tommy’s power.
However, that wasn’t important right now. Tommy looked at the man once again and found what he was looking for. The remote from before, the flashing synced up with the small pieces of technology. Tommy ripped the remote from the man’s grasp. He peered at the buttons, and pressed down on the one he assumed would stop the small electronics from exploding, if that was indeed their purpose.
He inhaled. He needed to stay calm.
He wouldn’t even know if he had pressed the correct button until time returned to its normal course.
Tommy stared at the portal. He didn’t have the resources to fight the person on the other side, even if he managed to find a way. Instead, he took deep breaths, and examined the small explosives.
He couldn’t break them open easily, as some sort of metal encased them, strong and seemingly impossible to dent. They were small and compact, but heavy in Tommy’s hand. He didn’t know what they led to. At first, he had pondered explosives, but now he wondered if that was simply the most logical conclusion.
He stared at the mysterious man, face still broken open in that unending smile, glee evident on his face.
They had come for him.
This was bigger than just Tommy though. Whatever this was would affect his whole district, the whole city, and Tommy didn’t know if he would be able to stop it.
Not for the first time, he cursed the people that the city held as heroes. Per usual, they were holed up in their little building, preparing for press conferences and interviews. Meanwhile Tommy fought not just for himself, but also to save all those who couldn’t.
Time was running out. Tommy could feel his energy dimming, his power taking from his own body, his skin feeling thin and stretched out and not right.
His time was up. Tommy let his hold on time’s run go, and immediately it felt as if the strings holding him up had snapped, and Tommy collapsed to the ground. He caught only a sight of the man’s bewilderment before he disappeared entirely, into the portal.
Tommy clutched at his chest. His heart felt as if it was beating against the cage of his ribs, and his breath couldn’t catch right. The small bombs lay at his feet, intact and unignited.
He held up his phone. Dialed the numbers. Ranboo was quick to pick up.
“Tommy?” he asked, something frantic and scared in his voice. “Are you okay?”
Tommy surveyed his surroundings. The little technological items were littered around him, no longer flashing red, stationary. Other than that, there was almost no sign that there had been a scuffle at all. “Of course I’m okay,” Tommy forced out. This wasn’t right. Tommy was supposed to be able to fight crime, to help people, to improve people’s days, all without endangering himself or those he knew. Perhaps it had been naïve, perhaps it had been stupid, perhaps it had been the most idiotic thought he ever had in his pathetic life. But now, sitting in an alleyway, only propped up by the wall behind him, Tommy wondered if he ever should have agreed to this in the first place.
“You’re not,” Ranboo whispered, and it wasn’t a question. It was a statement, something Ranboo could tell inherently, the bond between the two more than just shared jokes and pleasantries.
Tommy stayed quiet for a bit, catching his breath, feeling his lungs struggle under the weight of it all. “Can you pick me up?”
“Of course Tommy,” Ranboo said. Tommy could tell he was making that face he always did, a little sad smile, eyes filled with fondness.
Tommy leaned back on the brick wall and waited for his roommate to arrive.
-----
The television was on. Mostly static. The TV was an old device, found at a yard sale, barely holding together. Tommy and Ranboo had snatched it up the moment they laid eyes on it.
Now however, Tommy lay in their ratty armchair, snuggled up in a blanket with his eyes glued to the screen. Ranboo was gone. He had only barely managed to convince his manager to give him his break early so he could go pick up Tommy.
Ranboo, understandably, had been slightly terrified when he found Tommy in the alleyway. Tommy had kicked him in the shins and told him to pull himself together. Ranboo took a couple of breaths, then helped Tommy gather the small discs from earlier.
The technology now rested in their apartment, right under their shared bed.
Tommy stared at the screen. The supposed heroes were on the screen right now, acting for the camera.
That’s all it was really. Acting. A chance for them to appear special to the public, to help only those who don’t truly need help.
Cowards, Tommy thought.
On the screen, the Golden Glider waved at the camera, a smile breaking his face, nothing but propaganda from a government that doesn’t truly care about its citizens. Those from the higher district waved and cheered, and kids watched with wide eyes as their idol passed by.
He narrowed his eyes, snuggling into the blanket. Sleep tugged at his eyes, and Tommy rubbed at them, determined to keep them open.
Tommy would just have to show these pretenders what a real hero was.