Chapter Text
“A hord!” Tommy yelped, “Really?”
“I’m not sure,” Tubbo whispered, “Something really smells off,”
“Ya, there really seems to be a lot of bodys down the road,” Wilber nodded, shading his eyes from the sun.
“What do we do!” Tommy freaked, his eyes wide in fear.
“What else can we do! Run!” Tubbo yelled, turning and sprinting down the opposite side of the road. The three others dashed after him, the zombies stumbling closer.
“Where are we going!” Tommy yelled at Tubbo as they ran.
“I don't know!” Tubbo weased, “I haven't been in this part of the city before!”
“Just run!” Wilbur hollered from beside Phil.
The four of them rounded corners and through alleys. Phil barely paid attention to where they were going, he did notice a large gas pipeline along the side of one of the buildings that was painted rainbow colors and other forms of graffiti. They hopped over fences, one of them catching and tearing the legging of Tommys pants. He tumbled to the ground with a yell, a trickle of blood flowing down his leg.
“Shit,” Phil muttered, turning back to help the boy. There was a decent sized cut on his shin, about an inch in length, but lucky it was not too deep. He pulled a shirt out of his bag, ripping it into stripps, and tying it around Tommys leg. “Is that good?” He asked Tommy, whose face was scrunched in pain.
“Ya, I think so,” Tommy said, scrambling back up onto his feet. But before they could make a dash for where Wilbur and Tubbo were waving at them ahead at the entrance of an ally, three zombies crawled through a destroyed part of the fence. One reached out its decaying hand and managed to grip one of Phils pant legs.
“Get off!” Phil yelled, kicking the zombie in the face, his heel nailing it straight in the nose, causing a satisfying crack to form in the exposed bone.
“Phil help!” Tommy yelled. He had been backed into a corner and was fumbling with his back in an attempt to grab anything that would save him. Cursing, Phil unsheathed one of his blades and stabbed it though the zombies head, pinning it to the ground. Spinning around he dashed toward Tommy, the now actually dead corpse sliding off his blade as he grabbed the handle.
“Stay back!” Phil yelled at Wilbur and Tubbo, who were starting to run forward to help, “I got this,”
Pulling his other machete from his belt, Phil wound his arm up and tossed it, like a javelin, towards and through the neck of the zombie closest to Tommy, when at the same time he yanked the patchy hair of the other, pulling it back and trusting it to the ground. He stomped on its head until the bones and rotten flesh were reduced to a mush of indistinguishable sludge.
“Let's go!” Phil grabbed Tommy's arm and thrust the boy ahead of him and towards the spot where Wilbur and Tubbo were watching anxiously.
“What about your weapons?” Tommy yelled over his shoulder.
“I got it!” Phil shouted, “Now go!”
“Though here!” Wilbur called, beckoning to the two and disappearing into the narrow walled area as Phil and Tommy caught up.
Then after scrambling through some stores they came to a stop at a large grassy park. Trees ringed the area, and benches were scattered throughout the grassy field.
“I think we lost them,” Wilbur huffed, looking around the road that circled the park.
“Hopefully,” Tommy collapsed onto the grass, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps, “I would be really annoyed if we didn't,”
“Oh wow,” Tubbo said, looking up at Phil “You fight amazing!”
“Oh, well thanks, I’ve had some practice recently,” Phil said sheepishly,
“Well it saved Tommy,” Tubbo beamed, “Thank you!”
“Your welcome,” Phil smiled warmly at the brown haired boy.
“Hey guys,” Tommy said, glazing around, “do you know where we are? I don't recognize this place,”
“I don't either,” Phil said, looking around. He didn't recognize the park, or at least it wasn't too familiar. On normal days he didn't do much outside his house besides going to the flower shop just around the corner of his apartment and making flower arrangements with Ms, Puffy.
It was a bittersweet memory now. He used to go there all the time to get flower arrangements for Kristen before she was killed, and every year since, on her birthday, Phil would always make a dark purple and black bouquet with a bright yellow rose in the middle for her grave.
Phil wiped the tear out of his eye as it threatened to slip down his cheek. Looking up, he saw Wilbur watching him. The young man turned away as Phil glanced up.
“We should try and find a good safe spot,” Wilbur said, “Phil, you have been in this city for awhile, do you know any good areas for a base?”
Phil scratched the back of his head, thinking. There was one place that he remembered from when he was younger, a place that now might be abandoned after his clan left.
“Yes,” Phil nodded, “I believe I know a good place,”
- - - - - - - - -
Phil lead the four of them to a section of tall buildings, its windows stretching up multiple stories. The glass glittered in the sun, shards and cracks in the glass reflecting beams of light in different directions.
“Wow,” Tubbo said, staring up at the building, “It's so tall, how did you work in such a large building”
“Huh?” Phil looked over at him confused, then he laughed, ”Oh! No mate, thats a trade center,” he pointed at a small rotting house hidden in the towers shadow, “this is the place I used to work at,”
The three friends stared at the rickety old house, the frame of the door rusty with mold.
“What the fuck is this?” Wilbur said.
“A disappointment,” Tommy grumbled.
“Aw come oh guys!” Phil smirked, “it's not that bad, wait until you see the inside,”
He ignored the doubtful mumbles behind him as he stepped onto the front porch of the house. The floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked up to the front door. Slowly Phil reached out and gripped the door handle, it was greasy under his hand as he turned it. Pulling the door open, a wisp of dust swirled out and into Phil's face, causing a coughing fit. Inside there was nothing much, a skinny staircase along the left wall that trailed up to a second floor and a group of couches and a table littered with old shattered beer bottles. Phil frowned, remembering old parties he used to have here with fellow mafia members. Laughing and joking about each member's mistakes, teasing each other over their lovers. Now it was just an abandoned house, not used in years.
“It just needs a bit of cleaning up!” Phil smiled, turning back to Tommy, Wilbur and Tubbo.
“Are you sure this will work?” Tubbo asked softly, “it's kind of… old,”
“I know mate, but you haven't seen the best part!” Phil walked over to the underside of the staircase where a pile of old folded blankets sat. Bending down he swiped away at dust that had gathered and moved the blankets aside to reveal a hatch in the floor, “This is what I really was thinking of when I came to this place,”
Phil pulled on the hatch, on his first try it cracked up and didn't budge. The second time he tugged at it, the door flew open and to the right, nailling Tommy in the shins.
“What the Fuck!” Tommy yelled, hopping away, and collapsing to the ground, clutching his legs.
Phil winced, sure that a bruise would surely form later on, “oops,”
“Oh wow,” Tubbo peered into the open hole that now stretched into the ground. A ladder descended into darkness and Phil crawled over and started a descent down the metal rungs. Within a few steps, Phils feet touched down into a sodden floor and he turned to face the metal door at the end of a short hall.
“Is it safe?” Wilbur calls down the hole.
“Yes, don't worry, come on down,” Phil called back up. The chiming steps hailed the appearance of Wilbur, then Tommy and lastly, Tubbo.
“Ewww,” Tommy scrunched up his face in disgust, then he yelped as a drip of water plopped onto the back of his neck.
“It's kind of - gloomy,” Wilbur looked down the hall to the door, “Are you sure there is nothing hiding down here?”
Phil smiled at their nervous faces, “This place hasn't been used in a decade, I’m sure it's fine,”
He walked over to the door. Checking it for any damage, he found an old faded symbol of a crow above the handle. The same one that was on his upper arm.
“Now this is the place I really used to work,” Phil said, opening the door to a dark room.
“Very interesting,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes at Tubbo.
Phil flipped a light on to reveal a large room filled with lavish furniture. It had a bar in the far back with a tall wall of mounted animal trophies. There were open doorways along the right wall that lead to comfortable bedrooms and a kitchen.
“Now, I wasn't expecting this!” Wilbur walked into the room, running his hands over the cushions of a couch. Tommy ran in behind him, leaping onto the furniture Wilbur was admiring and sending up a plume of dust.
“What the hell Tommy,” Wilbur spluttered, backing away from the dust cloud.
“Man, it sure is comfortable here!” Tommy signed, snuggling down and propping his leg on the arm rest, “I never ever doubted you for a second, Phil,”
“You were literally just saying how this place was shit and why did we follow a old man down here,” Tubbo piped up.
“I certainly did not,” Tommy stuck his tongue out at Tubbo. Tubbo stuck his out back at Tommy and the two of them promptly started a staring contest.
“Well whatever you said, it sure is really nice in here,” Wilbur nodded at Phil, “what kind of job has you work in a place like this,”
Phil laughed, “you only wish you knew,” he smiled, “it was really not anything amazing, just a rich organization,”
“Organization?” Tommy perked up, but did not take his eyes off Tubbos, “like what? Secret spies? Ohhhh! Ninjas!”
“Dude no!” Tubbo interrupted, “He must be a samurai!”
“Yes! No wonder he is so amazing with swords!” Tommy bubbled.
“They are machetes, you idiot!” Tubbo chirped, his eyes welling with tears as they dried out.
“Blink dude, you know you can't beat me,” Tommy hissed, squinting, determined not to lose to his friend.
“I won't give up, you blink!” Tubbo retorted, his eyes growing red.
“You guys,” Wilbur huffed, “Don't do that, if you ruin your eyes it will mean zombies catching you faster, that is if I don't throw you to them myself,”
“Sorry Wilber,” Tubbo frowned, finally blinking his eyes.
“Yes! I win!” Tommy shouted in delight.
“No you don't!” Tubbo huffed, “Wilbur made us stop, so it's really a tie!”
“So anymore crazy things you got hidden up your sleeve?” Wilbur asked Phil, raising his eyebrows.
“Maybe,” Phil grinned, “how about a tour of the place!”
“Oh! Yes!” Tommy said excitedly, scrambling off the couch, his back covered with fuzz.
“Alright!” Phil announced, “As you know this is a living room, or atleast a common space, then over here,” He walked over to the left wall, “Here is the storage rooms, clothes, weapons, substances, meatings, stuff like that,” He pushed open the only door to reveal a room that had neatly organized boxes around a long dusty table, “ya nothing to interesting in here,” Phil shrugged as the boys poked each of their heads into the room. Phil closed the door behind them as they finished up their investigation of the boxes. “These are the bedrooms,” Phil pointed at the other wall that was full of doors, “there are about seven in all, don't ask why we need that many,” Tubbo skipped over and poked his head around Phils arm as he opened the first bedroom door. Inside there was an unruly large bed with a bedside table and a lamp next to it, to the side there was a small bathroom with a toilet for any guest that was staying there,
“Man, I dont think Ive ever seen a bed that big,” Tubbo ogled the bedframe and mattress, “We usually don't use anything else besides a pillow and blanket.
“Well you're in luck,” Phil shrugged, “all the other bedrooms are just like this,”
“Yes!” Tommy jumped up and down, shoving his face into the bed, “when was the last time we had a place to sleep like this?”
“I don't know but this is amazing!” Tubbo yelped, leaping onto the bed and practically sinking into the mattress. Wilbur trotted over and flopped next to him on the bed with a sigh. Tommy yawned as he to, layed on the soft surface. Phil suddenly realised that as the three of them curled up together, that they were exhausted. They must not have a good rest in days by the way their eyes were drooping.
“You guys seem tired, how about you rest as I clean this place up,” Phil smiled as small mumbles of protest came from the pile of boys, “don't worry, i'll keep this place safe,”
“Alright,” Wilbur whispered, sliding the covers over Tommy and Tubbo, his eyes had dark rings under him and Phil thought that he must be more tired than the other two as he was the oldest and probably the one keeping most nightly watches.
“Go to sleep mate,” Phil murmured, pulling the blankets over WIlburs shoulder, “You can rest, I promise i'll let nothing happen as you are resting,”
Wilbur nodded, the struggle against sleep taking him over failing. Phil sighed as soft snores came from the bed, and he flipped the light switch off for the room and closed the door softly behind him. Slowly he slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands, he hadn't felt this need or helpful sense Kristan had died, or when he was living with Techno. Phil rubbed his face, wondering, where in the world was his friend now. Was he dead or alive, safe or injured, thriving or in need of help? Phil looked up at the ceiling, wondering what he had gotten himself into.