Chapter Text
Tommy crashed through the undergrowth, hot on Tubbo’s trail as his friend swung through the trees.
“You picked the slower path, I’m going to catch you this time!” he shouted upwards. Tubbo laughed gleefully.
“It’s not over yet. You’ll never be able to beat Dream at this rate! My brother’s going to run circles around you next tournament,” he yelled back, hoisting himself up onto a branch and scrambling higher up the tree and out of sight.
Tommy’s face furrowed into a scowl as his friend disappeared into the leaves. He kept quiet, listening for the tell-tale rustles that would indicate he had jumped to another tree, but the forest was noiseless except for the normal wildlife sounds and the hissing of the wind. He circled the base of the trunk, trying to catch a glimpse of Tubbo, but saw nothing.
Just as he was deciding that there might be nothing for it except to climb up after him, a twig snapped in the distance. His gaze roved over the bushes in that direction, quickly zeroing in on something large moving stealthily through the plants.
“Gotcha,” he muttered, dropping into a crouch and starting towards the disturbance. He didn’t know how Tubbo had managed to get all the way down from the treetops without him seeing, but now the jig was up.
Tubbo smirked as he watched Tommy stalk right past his hiding spot in a nearby tree, vision fixated on whatever was skulking through the bushes ahead of him. He can’t believe that he escaped that easily, he was worried he’d never be able to get his friend off his tail. All he had to do now was loop back the way he’d come and steal the winner’s banner right from under Tommy’s nose, and he’d be home free. He hadn’t won a round of Flag Sniper (a game of their own invention, some combination of Capture the Flag and Manhunt) for nearly a month, victory would be sweet.
He slowly inched his way along the limb until he could safely leap into the next tree, keeping half an eye on Tommy as he approached the patch of moving bushes. It was probably a fox or something, or maybe a wolf. He hoped it wasn’t a wolf, Tommy always had bones on him and he didn’t want to be fighting against a newly tamed dog as well. He landed lightly on the next branch, hoping he wouldn’t alert Tommy to his location. He stopped looking backwards, relying on his hearing to tell him if he was being chased.
A shriek shattered the relative quiet of the woods, and Tubbo nearly fell off the branch in surprise, fast reflexes barely saving him as he bear-hugged the limb. His heart rate was skyrocketing. He glanced back to find out what on earth had made Tommy scream like that. His stomach dropped into his boots.
His best friend was being wrestled to the ground by five men in camouflage suits. He was fighting like a devil and screaming every curse word in the book, but he was no match for the attackers. Tubbo’s immediate instinct was to help his friend, but he decided that might not be the best idea when one of them pulled out a gun. Tommy went still, and Tubbo froze in fright as the weapon was trained directly at his friend’s head. He was grateful Tommy knew when to stop fighting, he couldn’t handle watching his best friend get shot in front of him.
His best chance right now would be to stay hidden and make a break for SBI’s base as soon as possible. If he was lucky, the thugs had no idea he was out here and he could simply wait for them to leave before making his move.
Unfortunately, Tubbo’s luck had never been that good. As two of the men set about tying Tommy’s hands and feet together, the other three pulled out their own firearms and started fanning out to search the clearing. Fluttery panic erupted in his belly as they started looking up into the trees. He was very glad he was not in the same one he’d originally climbed up, that was the first one they checked.
He might still be able to avoid detection, he was pretty high up. The ground was maybe thirty or forty feet below him, and he was concealed by the branches. Thankfully, none of the men seemed eager to climb up after him. He cautiously shifted positions in the tree, lifting himself onto a higher branch so that his view of the men was obscured. It meant he couldn’t see what they were doing anymore, but it also lowered their chances of spotting him.
He could still hear the boots tramping around below him. He almost didn’t want to breathe, terrified that somehow they would hear him. They were shouting commands to each other, speculating about which tree he was in now.
“Are we sure he’s still here?” one of them shouted. Tubbo nearly jumped out of his skin, it sounded like he was right under the tree he was hiding in.
“He’s long gone by now!” Tommy yelled, voice slightly muffled. His face must be pressed to the ground. Tubbo’s stomach did a flip. “I saw him heading back towards the base ages ago.”
“Like we’d believe you,” someone sneered, and he heard a yelp of pain. He desperately wanted to jump down right that second and make whoever just hit his best friend wish they’d never been born, but he couldn’t risk getting both of them caught or even killed.
“Expand the search in the opposite direction of the base,” the thug that seemed to be the leader instructed. “He’s probably lying to cover which direction he really went.”
Hope sparked in his mind. They thought he’d already run. The footsteps were getting farther away now, and he could hear branches breaking as they got farther away. It was a waiting game now. He carefully lowered himself back onto his original branch, deciding a view of what was going on was worth risking the small chance the two remaining men would spot him. They didn’t expect him to still be in the area, they wouldn’t be looking for him.
They were also preoccupied with Tommy. His best friend was lying prone on the ground, arms and legs tightly bound together. Both of the men had guns out, one sweeping the forest around them and one with the barrel pointed at their captive. Tubbo was pleased to see that one of the men had a bloody nose. Tommy hadn’t gone down without a fight.
Tubbo sat in the tree long enough for his legs to start cramping before the leader called in the searchers.
“We’ve lost him,” he grunted, clearly annoyed. “But we only needed one, as long as the second crew pulled through. Let’s move out before that brat can go get help.”
One of them pulled some cloth out of his pocket and made quick work of gagging Tommy, who fixed him with such a rage-filled glare it made Tubbo shudder. They also blindfolded him, then the tallest of the group slung the teenager over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Despite Tommy’s height, the thug acted like he weighed nothing.
“You resist, we shoot you in the leg,” the leader threatened, and Tommy nodded.
Tubbo watched them disappear into the woods, making careful note of the direction they went. As soon as he was certain they were gone, he left his safe haven and started sprinting back towards the base. The tears he’d been too scared to shed while hiding started blurring his vision, and he dashed them away.
He reached the base after ten minutes of running at top speed, the high stone towers of what was basically a miniature castle poking over the tops of the trees like mushrooms out of moss. He raced across the drawbridge and banged on the wooden door as hard as he could, pleading to Notch that someone was nearby. He didn’t have time to scale the wall where he usually got back inside. He shouted desperately for someone to come let him in.
Wilbur yanked the door open, catching Tubbo as he tumbled over the threshold, panting and crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked hurriedly, helping him back to his feet. “Should I go get Tommy?”
“We snuck out together,” Tubbo gasped, and Wilbur went pale. “Somebody kidnapped him.”
The older man’s face darkened in anger, and Tubbo flinched, but it wasn’t directed at him. Wilbur helped into an armchair and slammed the door shut, running off in the direction of the practice room and yelling for Techno and Phil to come quickly. Tubbo buried his face in his hands, thinking of guns and fights and ropes as tears dropped onto his shirt.
Three pairs of feet pounded into the room, and he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Phil knelt down in front of him, lifting his head up with a gentle hand. His face was calm, but Tubbo knew him well enough to see the fury burning in his eyes. Techno and Wilbur were hovering behind him, the former stoically simmering with wrath and the latter practically hopping from one foot to the other in barely contained vexation.
“Can you tell us everything that happened?” Phil asked softly.
So Tubbo did, stuttering frantically through his short tale. By the time he’d finished, Techno looked about ready to explode, and Wilbur had given up on any pretense of calmness. Phil wrapped him in a hug so tight it was almost suffocating, but Tubbo didn’t care.
“Someone get a hold of Dream,” Phil said through Tubbo’s shoulder. “Let him know his brother’s here.”
“Way ahead a ya,” Techno responded, his communicator already out and typing furiously. He paused, reading the message, and his eyes widened. “The situation may or may not have just gotten worse.”
Phil stood back up with a worried frown. “How?”
“George and Sapnap may be missin’ too. They were supposed to arrive back from a trip to Hypixel City a few hours ago. Dream’s out lookin’ for them, he didn’t know Tubbo had snuck out. He says to not let him back out of the base again.”
Tubbo nodded, too distressed and freaked out to protest.
Techno was typing again.
“He said he’s close by if we want to team up. I’m goin’ to tell him yes.”
Phil turned back to Tubbo. “What direction were they taking Tommy?”
Tubbo tried to figure out where it would be from the base. “Southwest, more south than west. Towards the mountains.”
“Tell Dream that,” Phil told Techno, who was still typing. “Suit up, you and I are going with him. Wilbur, you stay here and make sure nothing happens to Tubbo.”
“Like hell I’m staying back,” Wilbur protested, expression stormy. “They’ve got guns, Phil. I’m the only one here with shooting experience.”
It was true. Techno didn’t like how noisy and crass guns were, he preferred melee combat or a crossbow if a ranged weapon was absolutely necessary. Phil had some bad experiences when he was younger, and almost exclusively used a longbow. He also had a pair of daggers for close quarters. Wilbur, however, almost rivaled BadBoyHalo in his proficiency with firearms. His reasoning was that someone in the family needed to have that knowledge, it may as well be him. No way was he letting that go to waste now, especially when he knew the other side likely wouldn’t be holding back.
“Wilbur’s right,” Techno agreed. “We need someone who can take it to their level, and Wilbur’s who we’ve got unless you want to walk an hour to pick up Bad or Skeppy. You should probably stay back if we’re leaving anyone here.”
Phil looked torn, but he couldn’t argue with the logic, and they couldn’t leave Tubbo alone when he potentially had a target on his back. He was the best choice to defend the base.
“Fine,” he let out with a sigh. “But you two better be careful or I’ll kill you myself after rescuing you.”
Wilbur’s mouth curved into a dangerous grin. “No worries, pop.”
Tubbo was always a little nervous when Tommy’s brother got like this. He looked unstable. No one crossed Wilbur’s family and got away with it. Ironically, he was more intimidated by the musician than by Techno, the seasoned warrior. Techno’s rage was straightforward and controlled, and Tubbo knew exactly what his plan was and how he was going to execute it. Wilbur was an unpredictable kind of angry, and it never ended well for those on the receiving end.
Techno grabbed his brother by the elbow and steered him towards the armory. “Let’s grab our kit. You’re wearin’ armor whether you like it or not.”
Wilbur had the sense not to complain about it.
“Take something light and sturdy to put on Tommy when you find him,” Phil told them. Techno nodded and saluted, then they vanished around the corner.
“Let’s get you to the kitchen,” Phil murmured to Tubbo, whose tears were threatening a comeback. Before they could leave, however, there was more banging on the front door. Phil’s head shot up and he dragged the teenager to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the hallway. He took the hint and made himself scarce as the older man went to answer the door.
“Who’s there?” he called, hand resting on the locked deadbolt.
“Sapnap,” a familiar voice raggedly replied, still tinged with the undying sarcasm he was known for. “For the love of Notch let me in or I’m setting fire to your door.”
Phil would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so on edge. He undid the lock, pulled open the door, and ushered in a battered and limping Sapnap, who was squinting through a black eye and bleeding from a few scrapes.
“George isn’t with you?” Phil questioned, sitting him down in the armchair Tubbo had just vacated and calling the teenager back in to send him in search of the first aid kit and a healing potion.
“No,” Sapnap said, downcast. “They took him after knocking me out. I’m guessing you know about the situation already?”
“We’ve been in contact with Dream, he’s actually on his way now. Whoever it was ambushed Tommy and Tubbo as well, but Tubbo managed to get away. We’re sending out a rescue party in the direction he saw them go.”
Sapnap managed a chuckle, though he winced in pain as well. “Notch help them. Dream and Techno are going to obliterate whoever it was.”
Phil tsked in worry. “Hopefully at least one of them can stay level-headed. This is a hostage situation.”
“Don’t sweat it, Dream’s a regular Sherlock Holmes in a pinch, and I’ve never seen him more protective than he is around George. If anyone can break them out, it’s him.”
Phil nodded, marginally reassured.
“Can I borrow your communicator?” Sapnap asked. “Let Dream know I’m not dead and all that. They stole mine.”
“Absolutely,” Phil replied, digging it out of his pocket and handing it over.
Tubbo ran back in with the bright red healing pot and the box of medical supplies just as Wilbur and Techno came back in from the armory, fully equipped and carrying a backpack presumably full of supplies and a spare set of armor for Tommy.
“Sapnap!” Wilbur exclaimed in surprise. “Where’s George?”
“MIA. Phil said you two were going after them?”
“Yup,” Techno said, adjusting the straps of the pack. “Any sign of Dream?”
“Not yet,” Phil told him, handing the injured man the healing potion and getting out a pressure-activated ice pack for his eye. Wilbur and Techno huddled in the corner, planning entry strategies and speculating about locations. Tubbo was standing off to the side, looking around anxiously like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, so Phil waved him over and showed him how to clean the less serious scrapes while he took care of the larger ones himself.
“They really did a number on you,” he commented. Sapnap grunted in agreement, face screwed up in pain as they dabbed at the abrasions with alcohol to clean them. He took a cautious sip of the potion. It was best to go carefully with the healing magic, too much at once could be even more painful than the wounds it was supposed to fix. It was a fine line between taking enough to heal quickly and taking so much you ended up bedridden while your body worked it out of your system.
“You shoulda seen the other guys,” he joked halfheartedly as the ticklish burning sensation that indicated the magic was working started in his belly. He took another tiny sip, and the feeling grew, spreading out through his limbs and torso. The rib he was pretty sure had cracked started buzzing in his chest.
The communicator vibrated in his hand, and he looked down to see Dream had gotten his message and was beyond relieved he was safe. Relatively safe, anyways. He was about five minutes away from the base, and Sapnap told as much to the others.
Techno’s eyes glittered with excitement at the prospect of taking his revenge, and Wilbur was almost unhinged with bottled up emotion. Tubbo leaned into Phil’s side as the cuts and scrapes on Sapnap’s legs and arms started closing, closing his eyes and telling himself Tommy was going to be okay. They had the most powerful warriors for hundreds of miles around at their side. He had to be okay.