Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy wasn’t stupid.

He knew that his brother always leaves their house at midnight. He knew Technoblade’s “back pain” was caused by a stab wound. He knew that the “tomato” stains on Techno’s pants were blotches of blood.

He knew that the vigilante mentioned in the news was his caretaker for the past sixteen years.

He knew the reason why his brother refused to talk to him about heroes. 

He knew so much, and yet he never said a single thing. 

“Tommy, could you grab my reading glasses from upstairs?”

He knew Technoblade didn’t need glasses.

“Sure thing Big T!”

He grins, small sounds of amusement slipping through his teeth when he hears Techno sigh. 

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Fucking no!”

As he goes up the wooden boards, the smile he bore fades from his face.

It wasn’t that he was mad at his brother for keeping things from him. No, he wasn’t upset. He understood secrets. He understood the power they held. He understood that he couldn’t let his words slip, no matter how important they were. He understood that he had to watch his words. 

No one must know what he knows.

As far as the public’s knowledge goes, The Blood God was an anonymous person. Not the strict, coffee-loving bibliophile Technoblade was. No, they could never know. 

Shaking his head from his thoughts, Tommy searched for the gold-rimmed glasses and gave a contented sigh when he spotted a glimmer in the corner of his eye. There it was.

Leaning down, he grabbed the device from beside the bedside table and hurriedly exited the room. Tommy tried to ignore the blood-stained boots peeking from underneath Techno’s bed and instead, followed the smell of freshly made tea. 

Tommy felt his smile come back.

Technoblade wasn’t a huge fan of tea. It was too “floral” and had a “weird taste”, according to him. But ever since he caught a certain gremlin staring too long at the tea aisle while grocery shopping, the man bought all the bags he could and stocked them up in his cabinet. That, and cans of coke of course. 

Another reason why Tommy had to keep his mouth shut. He owed everything to Technoblade. 

His clothes, his food, his room… All his life it was the Blade who provided his needs. And wants.

He was Tommy’s dad and brother. Although Techno constantly tells him stories about his real “father”, Tommy honestly didn’t care. 

Where had the man been when Tommy first fainted due to his low blood pressure? Where was he when Tommy got his first chickenpox? Where was he when Tommy celebrated all of his sixteen birthdays? Exactly. Compared to Techno, Tommy owes nothing to him. He didn’t even know what he looked like. 

Okay, that isn’t the full truth. Tommy remembered bits and pieces. He never told his brother but he knows vague details about the man who was supposed to be his father. 

Tommy doesn’t recall when or how, but he knows that his father had golden blond hair, like him. He knew his father bore the same cerulean blue pupils that shone with kindness. Tommy remembered those eyes staring down at him with a sense of pride. But that was it. 

Tommy couldn’t piece together certain facial features that completed the image. He sometimes thought that something was blocking his memory. As if he wasn’t allowed to remember these things. But why ?

“Theseus! Hurry up, your nerd friend is here.”

Tommy groans. There are things Technoblade does that he never understands despite spending a long time trying to figure it out. One of them is why he calls Tommy “Theseus”. It’s not even his name. Where can you find Theseus in “Thomas Bedrock”? Technoblade’s crazy.

“You don’t have to fucking yell all the time, y’know?”

Techno scoffs.

“Speak for yourself.”

He takes his glasses from Tommy’s hands and goes to the kitchen. Tommy turns his attention to the newly arrived brunet. 

“Bee boy! How was school?”

Tubbo gives him a strained smile and adjusts his backpack. 

“Hell. As always.”

Tommy laughs loudly.

“So, the usual?”

“Yes please.”

“I’ll go tell Ranboo.”

“HELL no. Get that man away from my honeycakes.”

“Give the man a break, Tubbster..”

“He ruins everything he touches. How does one even mess up scrambled eggs?”

“You ask him..”

Before Tubbo could reply, the blond dashed away, his laughter echoing behind him. The brunet just sighs and settles in a small booth by the window. Making himself comfortable, Tubbo scanned the place with a sense of familiarity. 

Things are rapidly changing in the young adult’s life. Graduation awaits him the next spring and Tubbo remains unsure whether or not he’s ready for it. However… Tubbo is comforted by the fact that he still has a place to come to when things get too much. 

Bedrock Bros’ Cafe is the constant in his life. He practically grew up here. And he would make sure to protect it and its residents forever. 

With determination found in his gleaming forest green eyes, Tubbo waits for his honeycakes. 

[Bedrock Bros' Cafe]

“Boob Boy! Bee Boy wants his usual.”

Splatters of cookie batter appeared on the tiled floor as Tommy startled the abnormally tall hybrid. Frowning, Ranboo took a small towel and began wiping his mess. 

“Tommy, please don’t refer to me as “Boob Boy”. It’s weird. Also, since when does Tubbo trust me with his meal?...”

Tommy shows a full-toothed grin and crossed his arms.

“Since I forced him to!”

The half n half man’s frown intensified.

“Forced?”

Just before Tommy could tease Ranboo further, Technoblade entered the room with a book in his left hand.

“He’s joking Ranboo. Tommy, we’re out of honeycakes. Go get some from Niki for now. We need to buy the ingredients soon.”

Techno says carefully and smirks at the pout that grows on Tommy’s lips.

“You always come at the worst time.”

“Ranboo thinks otherwise.”

“You’re a real bitch, Techno.”

“It takes one to know one.”

Ranboo watches the scene with amused eyes. Despite being under Techno’s roof for almost more than a decade, he never understood the conversation dynamic between the two brothers. 

At one point, they’re shouting at one another, the younger blurting out swear words like his life depended on it, and the elder refuting his rudeness with insults of his own. It was like they never get along. 

But from what Ranboo observed, they immediately make up after the fight. He could even bet that they make up faster than how the argument started in the first place. Tommy would never admit his adoration and admiration for Technoblade. And Technoblade would never directly say he loves Tommy. For an outsider, it was quite entertaining to watch. 

[Niki's Bakery]

After about three minutes of immature whining and petty comebacks (The immature whining coming from Tommy), the blond grumbled and headed to the backdoor that led to a pastel bakeshop. 

Niki’s Bakery was one of Tommy’s favorite places to visit. The white brick walls and pastel roof colors greeted him like a fresh breath of air. Where the cafe was a bit vintage and held an academia vibe, the bakeshop was a different feeling altogether. Combined with the scent of different pastries blending together and the soft music that flowed in the art-studio-turned-shop, Niki’s Bakeshop was a place that Tommy considered his home away from home. 

Fixing himself up a bit, Tommy went inside the glass door and heard the jingle of the bells above him. He made sure to keep his shoes from dirtying the floor of the store. 

“Miss Niki! Ayup! Techno sent me for some honeycakes.”

He called out when he found the counter empty of a pink-haired lady. 

There was a bit of shuffling heard from the deeper inside of the bakery and Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“You okay there, Miss Niki?”

“I’m fine Tommy! I’ll be there in a few seconds!”

A sweet voice replied to him, and Tommy’s worries eased. Miss Niki was about the same age as his big brother, and she seemed more like a sister than a neighbor to the Bedrock siblings. Technoblade held a soft spot for the caring woman and thought she was heaven-sent. Even if Techno will not say it directly, he was aware he was terrible with children. Miss Niki was there to help Techno when he didn’t know what to do with a small stubborn child. 

The blond didn’t mind waiting for Miss Niki so he began scanning her displays for treats. Every week, she would change her specials and Tommy swears he had never seen the same specials for years. It was always different with Miss Niki. She would come up with smart recipes that were lip-smacking delicious. Tommy loved every one of those treats.

Tommy thought Miss Niki was the kindest person on Earth. She always managed to sneak in vanilla cream puffs for him whenever he and Techno had a huge fight. In return, he would help out in her bakery in his free time. And as one of three workers of a small, humble bookshop/cafe, Tommy had a lot of free time.

Well, that isn’t to say that Miss Niki is all sprinkles and rainbows. Tommy had only seen her get mad thrice in his life and he definitely did not want to see her a fourth time. It’s always the nice people. God. Tommy shuddered at that memory and leaned down to look for the cream puffs. He still had a stash of it back in the fridge of the cafe but what harm is there in a few more?

“Tommy, I gave you ten of those yesterday. You’re really a cream puff addict.”

Tommy instantly stood up and chuckled nervously.

“I have like, four left, Miss Niki.”

Niki shook her head while smiling as she smoothed out her apron. Tommy noted that she wore the one he gifted to her last Christmas. Tommy’s heart warmed. 

“As much as I would like to give you more, Techno sent you here for a different reason, right?”

She asked and pulled out some keys for the glass displays. Tommy releases a whine. 

“Yes. We’re out of honeycakes. Techno said we had to go grocery shopping soon.”

Niki hummed in response and pulled out a tray of honeycakes. 

“Honeycakes? Is Tubbo there?”

“When is he never there?”

Niki laughed.

“Fair point. How many do you need?”

Tommy paused to think. 

“Just three, I suppose.”

Niki nodded and grabbed three honeycakes and put them in a bag. 

“How’s Tubbo, by the way. He wasn’t at the cafe yesterday.”

Tommy leaned on the counter.

“He had this huge quiz or something. I heard it was really important in order for him to get high grades for this semester, “ Tommy smiled wistfully, “Tubbo’s graduating from hero school next year.”

In the corner of Tommy’s eye, Niki stiffened. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she gave her a kind smile and brought her hands together.

“That’s amazing!”

Niki handed him the bag of honeycakes and a separate bag of something Tommy didn’t know.

“I’m sure he’d be an excellent hero. Has he decided on a name yet?”

Tommy snorts and tries peeking in the other bag. It was sealed. 

“He said he wanted to be called “Beeboom”. It’s such a stupid name.”

Niki released a small chuckle and tiptoed to fluff his hair.

“Yeah, but it makes him happy, right?”

Tommy lowers his head to make it easier for the lady. 

“Mhmm, still stupid though.”

Niki put her hand away and Tommy almost begged her to not let go.

“See if he changes his mind. If not, then just support him. Hero school brings in a lot of pressure. His name might be part of the things he holds on to.”

Tommy can only nod his head. Because, as always, Niki was right.

“Now, off you go. Tell Techno he should go grocery shopping on Wednesday. We could go together.”

“Sure thing, Miss Niki. Thanks for the honeycakes and uhh, this random bag.”

Tommy salutes with his free hand.

Niki’s eyes soften further and Tommy wonders why she was looking at him like that. He liked it though. It gave him a warm, cozy feeling. The same feeling he felt whenever he catches Technoblade giving him the similar look. Weird.

“You’re forever welcome, Theseus. And just call me Niki, please.”

After a brief goodbye, Tommy walked out of the comfy bakery and onto the empty street. It was about six pm, and the sky was painted with streaks of orange, pink, and purple. Tommy closed his eyes and took it all in. Just a few more hours left.

[Bedrock Bros' Cafe]

“The Big Man is back!”

Tommy walks into the kitchen and spreads his arms as a grand entrance. To his left, he heard the unmistakable groan of Techno.

“Why Techie? You seem relieved that Big Man Tommy has returned. Well, you should. I am extremely MASSIVE.”

Techno groans again and puts his palm to his face. 

“I used to think I hate toddler Tommy the most, now, I think I miss that kid. Give him back please.”

Tommy flipped him off and headed over to where Tubbo was sitting. Ranboo had just finished his shift, it appears, as the “Closed” sign was put up. He was in the booth with Tubbo and listening to the brunet talk animatedly. Tommy strode over. 

“-dest test I’d ever done in my life. Prime, I thought I was gonna fail! The whole thing had a hundred identification questions! A hundred! Can you believe it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been to school. I’m not sure what the standard for tests is.”

Tommy sat beside Tubbo and gave him the bag of honeycakes.

“Same.”

Tommy said and tried opening the separate bag Niki gave him. Tubbo put his hands up in frustration. 

“It was wrong of me to rant to homeschooled teens.” 

Ranboo and Tommy laughed at the brunet.

For the next hours, the trio talked about multiple things. They even brought out Tommy’s board game stash. Tommy found out that Niki sneaked in more cream puffs for him in the bag. Techno soon called them for dinner. After that, they hung out some more, until Tubbo had to go home. Goodbyes were always bittersweet for Tommy, he hated it when people left, but he assured himself Tubbo was coming back the next day. Besides, Tommy still had things to do. And things to prepare for.

The remaining three, a tall hybrid, a gremlin child, and a tired buff older brother, work silently as they clean the bookshop cafe and prepare it for the following day. The silence was comfortable for all of them. Even for the loud-mouthed Tommy, who always had something to say.

At about 11 in the evening, Technoblade let Ranboo and Tommy retire for the night. They had done the same routine for the past ten years, and it was always Techno who locked the doors and officially closed the windows of the cafe. Tommy was grateful for it though, as it meant he was given more time to prepare.

[Tommy and Ranboo's Bedroom in the Bedrock Bros' Cafe]

“This is a bad idea, Tommy.” 

Ranboo said, sitting on his desk across the room. He was writing in his journal, per usual. Tommy glares at him and lays out his things. 

“You’ve said that for 5 months straight.”

“And I’ll continue saying it until you get it through your brain.”

Tommy sighs. He then dons on some boots and brings out his special bag. 

“I’ve never slipped up, Ranboob. I always get home on time.”

Ranboo shakes his head, giving up.

“That’s not complete assurance you’ll forever be back, Tommy. Five months is a very short time to be,” Ranboo looks around warily as if someone was listening in on their conversation, “a vigilante .”

“Oh stop it. You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing! You could get caught! Or worse, killed! Techno’s going to be so worried…”

Tommy rolls his eyes and puts on his gas mask.

“Techno’s ain’t doing shit. He’ll never know. I’ll never get caught.”

Because Technoblade is doing the same thing as I am. I’m just smarter than him. 

Putting on the last bit of his outfit, Tommy pulls the hood over his head, securing it with a few pins so that his hair won’t be seen. Smiling behind the mask, Tommy does a twirl.

“So? Don’t I look poggers?”

Ranboo sighs again.

“Stop sighing. You’re starting to sound like my brother.”

“There’s still a chance for you to change your mind-”

Tommy covers his ears and closes his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Ranboob and I talk shit. Nyenyenyenye-”

“I do NOT sound like that.”

“Toh-may-toe, Toh-mah-toh.”

“That’s not even-”

“See you later Boob Boy.”

Tommy jumped out of the window, flipping two birds to Ranboo as he did so.

[Bedrock Bros' Cafe]

For the past five months, Tommy has been doing some… pretty illegal activities for someone his age. Well, illegal in his older brother’s terms. It’s a wonder Technoblade never asked why Tommy’s sleep schedule changed suddenly. Or why he had more bruises than normal.

It wasn’t because he didn’t care, he just thought it was a part of a growing teen’s life. 

In the present, however, Tommy was regretting his decision to jump out of the window. He should have scaled it quietly and carefully, not recklessly running out, ending up with a new bruise, and landing with a loud thud. The night had just started and he already had it bad. 

Brushing dust and dirt off his cloak, Tommy stretched his limbs and brought out his phone. He checked the areas he should be patrolling and made a mental note of them in his mind. After about five minutes of standing still and scrolling, Tommy finally made a move. 

He was just about to take his usual path behind the store when he heard voices.

Tommy had never hidden so quickly after recognizing one of the speakers.

“-il, he’s sixteen. Two more years and he’s a legal adult. He wants to be a hero. I can’t stop him when that time comes.”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he takes in his brother’s words. 

Why is Technoblade talking about him to a stranger? Who is this stranger? What is his relationship with Techno, why does Techno trust him enough to tell him about me? Is Techno- 

Tommy changed his position slowly to have a good look at the exchange of words.

“I’m trying, Techno. I am. And I’m almost there. I have a good lead this time. Just, please, a little longer.”

The new man wore some sort of huge cloak, almost as large as Techno himself. It was dark and Tommy couldn’t see very well but he was sure it was his cloak that made him appear big. The man was a head shorter than Technoblade.

Tommy flinches when he hears Techno start pacing his way. Thankfully, it was just him pacing back and forth.

“You’ve said that for the last ten years. Will you ever let this go? Find a better way? Introduce yourself to him?”

The stranger shook his head.

“I know what I’m doing, mate.”

Techno grumbles something incoherent. The stranger shuffles in his feet.

“Don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

Tommy stopped himself from gasping when he saw the two hug each other. He held himself back more when the stranger began to walk in his direction, this time, not pacing as Techno did. 

Tommy held his breath and sat still.

Suddenly, the stranger stopped. Just in front of the boxes, Tommy was hiding in. Tommy’s breath hitched and he cursed mentally. 

Silence crept in the alleyway and Tommy swore he heard his heartbeat. 

It was getting colder and colder by the minute when, 

“Everything alright?”

Techno called out and Tommy made a mental note to be nice to his brother tomorrow.

Bitch just saved his ass.

The stranger looked back at Techno and Tommy could almost feel the person smile.

“Yes. I’ll just be on my way. Good night, mate.”

The stranger walked away.

Technoblade went inside the store.

Tommy let a few minutes pass as he regained his composure. 

He eventually moved out of the boxes and examined the alley he was in. 

What the fuck was that?

Tommy was confused. Maybe he needed to take a break.

Chapter Text

Technoblade needed a break. 

Honestly, even after ten years, he still didn’t understand why he agreed to take in Tommy in the first place. Maybe it was because he wasn’t an orphan. Or maybe because Phil had begged him to. Or maybe it was because of those big, blue eyes that sparkled when he held the child’s hand. Either way, Techno wasn’t quite sure. 

“The Big Man is back!”

Techno groans as he applies more soap to the sponge in his hand. Why did Phil even think it was a good match? Techno was literally a murderer. He didn’t know how to babysit a child, much less watch over one for years. Was Phil actually stupid?

“Why Techie? You seem relieved that Big Man Tommy has returned. Well, you should. I am extremely MASSIVE.”

That sentence, taken out of context, is just plain dumb. 

True.

E

Big Man Tommy

pOg

Techno turned to look at the teen.

Tommy bore a new band-aid on his lower left jaw. His grin was wide and toothy. In his hand, he held two small paper bags, possibly containing the pastries from Nihachu. His fluffy blond hair was in a mess and the small braid in it was coming apart. Techno decided, in his mind, to fix it up later. 

Still, he groans again in response to the statement made by the gremlin and brings his free, dry, gloved hand to his face. 

“I used to think I hate toddler Tommy the most, now, I think I miss that kid. Give him back please.”

Techno said for dramatic effect, but Chat knew it was a half-truth. Technoblade didn’t want the golden boy to grow up

Awww

TechnoSoft

Bedrock Bros

Big Bro Techie

Child

Tommy, in retaliation, showed Techno the middle finger and went back to the cafe to meet up with the rest of his friends. Techno smiles as he thinks about the trio, sure, they were annoying as hell but they gave life to the small space he called home. 

After finishing washing the rest of the dishes, Techno then looked at the clock on the wall. The paint was falling out beside it. Techno noted that he had to tell Tommy to repaint it.

Techno then observed the time and hummed a bit. He had a few hours left till dinner preparation. Might as well make the best of it. 

Technoblade removed the pink latex gloves from his hands and placed them in a cabinet. Most of his chores were done for the day. Even Ranboo’s and Tommy’s. Not that many people came to the cafe, as per usual, but that was fine. Techno even wanted to say that his Saturday was going well, but he didn’t want to jinx it.

Heading out of the kitchen, and into the cafe, Techno spotted the trio in a booth by the window. Tubbo was engulfing his honeycakes and Tommy stuffed his mouth with cream puffs. Techno grimaced as he watched crumbs fall out of the blond’s mouth in an attempt to talk back to whatever Ranboo had said. Stupid gremlin and his nonexistent manners. 

Techno grabbed a towel and headed over to them.

[Technoblade’s Bedroom | Kitchen, Bedrock Bros’ Cafe]

After making sure that the three wouldn’t cause any trouble, Techno headed upstairs to his room. It was a decent space, with no posters on the wall and only a few picture frames of him and Tommy. On the right corner, however, there was a drawing made by a red permanent marker that Techno refused to wipe out, no matter what. 

Removing the useless reading glasses from his face, Techno opened his wardrobe and began arranging his things. Last night was hell for him, he was almost caught by a hero. Techno didn’t bother with the name and focused on escaping the scene. Good thing the guy was a talker. Techno escaped easily.

He still got a few scratches from the encounter though. There was a bloody slash on his thigh that he hastily tried to fasten up that morning. The blood had seeped through his boots and Techno hid them under his bed. Hopefully, Tommy didn’t notice them when he asked him to grab his glasses from earlier. 

Despite Tommy’s brash personality, Techno was grateful for the little guy for being oblivious to his hidden endeavors. Techno wouldn’t know what to do if Tommy found out his caretaker was a vigilante who left the house at midnight and came back at dawn. Techno did not want to predict his reaction. He was scared Tommy wouldn’t trust or believe in him anymore.

Techno’s farmings awws today

Technosoft

E

E

Techno hated Chat. They were constantly interrupting his thoughts.

We love you Technoblade

Subscribe to the Blade, man.

Awww

E

But, it was the downside of his power. And even if Chat constantly got in the way of his thinking, they were helpful when he needed them. Most of the time. 

As he put the final shirt in its place, Techno scrunched his eyebrows when he realized some of his sashes and pants were missing. Probably still in the laundry. But he always did laundry on Tuesdays. Not bothering to worry about some clothes, Technoblade closed the furniture and headed over to the bathroom for a quick shower. 

Compared to Ranboo and Tommy’s shared bathroom, Techno’s bathroom was larger to accommodate the adult’s size. He was built like a bodybuilder despite not working out once in his life. Another trait that his power gave him. 

Speaking of powers, Techno was still waiting for Tommy’s to appear. Usually, they appear when two to three years after puberty strikes, but the world is always changing and some powers have been discovered to appear later or earlier than the standards. Techno hopes that Tommy gets his soon because he knew that being powerless, based on experience, was not particularly something to be proud about.

Alas, at least Tommy hadn’t shown signs of allergy to any sort of food, drink, or environment. Aside from diagnosed hypotension, Tommy’s health didn’t make Techno worry that much. Techno had made sure that Tommy got all the sugar and rest he needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle.

They lived normally (If vigilantism counted as normal) with a budget that was just enough for their needs and a few of their wants. Techno had also demanded that Phil didn’t stray away from providing an allowance to raise his son right. He also made sure Tommy got all the meals he needed as he grew up. 

Techno decided that it was Tommy’s biological nature that made him tall and lanky. 

Techno gives a small smile as he thinks about Tommy. He sort of hoped that Tommy wouldn’t get his powers soon. He knew it was a bad and selfish thought but if Tommy’s power manifested, maybe Tommy wouldn’t need him anymore. What if he was an avian, like Phil? What if Tommy flew away from their quaint cafe and made a name for himself in the corrupt world of heroes? Techno knew Tommy could do that. He was amazing, in that sense.

After a good ten minutes of getting himself clean and fresh, the pink-haired man stepped out of the bathroom and changed into a sleeveless top and sweatpants. Shirts always looked awkward on him because of his structure. Drying his hair took most of Techno’s preparation time but for him, it was worth it. Techno walked back to the kitchen while securing his hair in a low ponytail.

He heard laughter and yelling from the booths, and heaved his shoulders afterward. The chuckle that came out of him did not go unnoticed by Chat. 

Picking up a kitchen knife, Techno pondered on the meal he had to prepare for dinner. They already had pasta the previous night so Techno wanted to make something different. Techno then took out a cookbook that Niki had given him a few years ago and skimmed its pages. The refrigerator was almost out of some ingredients so Techno couldn’t make the complicated dishes.

Settling his eyes on a certain recipe, Techno put the book on the countertop and began gathering the components for the simple yet appetizing meal.

Basic mashed potatoes with chicken and gravy and potato chowder that could still be eaten the following day. Also, some special chorus fruit for Ranboo and leftover cake from Tommy’s birthday a few days ago for dessert. 

It totally wasn’t obvious that Technoblade liked potatoes.

He would tell you that they were the perfect ingredient for everything. 

[Bedrock Bros’ Cafe]

It was past seven in the evening when Technoblade called the trio to dinner. It was brief but pleasant. Techno ignored the chaotic leg battle underneath the table and instead, savored the delicious taste of his sacred potatoes. Ranboo had complimented his cooking, as he always did, and Tommy accused Ranboo of sucking up to Techno. Technoblade had then reminded Tommy to drink lots of water and the minor grumbled as he drank from his can of coke. Techno noted that their supply was running out and he should ask Niki to add more sugar to Tommy's cream puffs for the next days.

Dinner was, indeed, pleasant.

Afterward, Ranboo and Tommy were given the task of washing the dishes, with Tommy complaining of how messy the kitchen was, every time Techno cooks. The man merely tuned his words out and fixed the table with Tubbo. 

Chat was bugging Techno as he wiped the old mahogany table that he got from Phil as a gift. 

Dadza is coming.

Dadza pog

Dinner was good

E

You think Dadza brought gold?

Send the boys to bed

Without a doubt, Techno believed that Chat was the bane of his existence. More than Tommy. But in some ways, they were helpful in warning Techno of things that happen ahead of time. Chat was still unfair though, they only gave him warnings that were “plot-related” or whatever that meant. Techno remembered the day multiple Chat comments became [Comment was deleted by moderator]. He still couldn’t figure out the events that happened that day. 

“So, what’s your secret, Techno?”

The man in question turned his head to the brunet boy who was wiping the table with him.

“What do you mean?”

Tubbo snorts.

“C’mon. I’ve been trying to guess your power ever since I entered this cafe. How come you have never slipped it in once?”

Techno stares. 

“Is this your attempt at small talk? Also, no, I haven’t slipped it in. Continue guessing, bee boy .”

Tubbo made a face.

“It sounds weird when you’re the one saying it. How come it doesn’t when Tommy does…”

Techno smiles evilly.

“Maybe Tommy had trained your brain to think that way.”

Tubbo’s eyes widen and he made noises of confusion and denial. Techno laughed at him and continued doing his work.

A good forty minutes pass and Tubbo had said goodbye for the night. Techno wasn’t worried for the lad to go home late because he lived with his hero parents, and they must’ve taught him basic self-defense. Techno also knew that Tubbo wasn’t stupid enough to get himself kidnapped by a bunch of villains. He had seen the expensive stun-gun in Tubbo’s bag.

As he left, Techno watched Tommy’s eyes darken and shoulders sink. Is this another teenage reaction? Was Tommy afraid of people leaving now? Techno let his concern grow as Tommy’s voice didn’t reach the same height as it did when he yelled, “See ya, bee boy!” to Tubbo. Is there something he should know about?

But just as quickly as his concern had started, it vanished when Tommy turned to him, yawning wide and blue pupils shining. 

They did their nightly routine of cleaning the whole cafe and Techno sent the two to bed early, preparing himself for a certain Bird Man’s arrival. 

It didn’t take too long for Phil to show up and Techno quietly went out of the cafe to meet with him in the alley just beside the establishment. 

Phil looked different compared to his last visit. His eyes had dimmed more, but his cheeks were full and he appeared to be healthy. And him being healthy meant… Wait, is that gray hair?

Dadza old

Old man 

His name is Philza Minecraft and he is quite old

E

Dadza where are your crows

Lmao Dadza more like Grandpaza

Granza

Oooh nice

Granza

Grayza

“Why is your hair gray?”

Techno couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

Philza Minecraft laughed at the question directed at him. 

“I dyed it. The guy I was fighting almost removed my hat just to see what color my hair was underneath it. Villain identification and shit.”

Techno took too long to stare at his hair.

“Mate?”

“It’s like you took the whole “Philza Minecraft is old” joke and went with it.”

Phil wheezed and Techno smiled at his friend’s amusement. Oh, how he missed the man. Phil was always a steady stone Techno could rely on. Sure, he loved Tommy and would never get rid of the kid, but Phil was like his stress reliever after a bad day. With him, Techno wouldn’t need to hide anything. To be something. To take responsibility for his own life. 

Phil knew how to make him relax and feel better. And that is why Techno would do anything for the man. Even adopt his amnesiac six-year-old son. 

The emerald pendant on Techno’s chest grew heavy. Right, he wouldn’t see Phil for another two or three months after this. The sad reality he has to deal with.

“Jack Manifold said the same thing.”

Techno squinted.

“Ah, yes. Your totally-not-gonna-turn-you-in hero friends.”

Phil’s eyes softened as they stared at Techno.

“They aren’t my friends, Tech. Merely associates. I need information, they need information, we exchange what we know. I know how the hero system works. I was one.”

Techno shuffled uncomfortably in his feet. 

“I’m just worried, Phil. When will all this hiding end?”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Blood God.”

Techno hardens his gaze.

“That’s different. I’m not intentionally hurting people.”

“You think I like my power? It doesn’t do me shit. It cost me my sons!”

The air grew thick with tense silence. Both breaths were labored and the two glared at each other. Techno was the first to look away. 

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said about you being a secret vigilante and all. I just…” Phil trailed off, “What if Tommy finds out?”

Techno looks at his shoes, ear twitching.

“I’m being careful. So far, he hasn’t asked about anything.”

Silence creeps upon them once again. 

“So… When will you finally talk to Tommy?”

It was Phil’s turn to look away.

“When I’m done with what happened to Wilbur.”

Techno was frustrated by the answer. 

“Tommy’s birthday was last Wednesday.”

Techno felt weirdly satisfied when he saw Phil flinch and clench his jaw.

“I know.”

Techno crossed his arms. 

“Phil, he’s sixteen. Two more years and he’s a legal adult. He wants to be a hero. I can’t stop him when that time comes.”

“I’m trying, Techno. I am. And I’m almost there. I have a good lead this time. Just, please, a little longer.”

Techno started pacing, he didn’t like what Phil was talking about. 

“You’ve said that for the last ten years. Will you ever let this go? Find a better way? Introduce yourself to him?”

Philza Minecraft, Tommy’s biological father, a man who had not spoken to his youngest son for ten years, shook his head. He looked at Techno with a gaze that froze Techno’s pacing.

“I know what I’m doing, mate.”

Techno muttered something under his breath. He couldn’t go against Phil when he gave him that look. All he could do was sit back and watch Phil accomplish his goal. And be there to help him if necessary. Was that toxic? Techno didn’t think so. Phil would do the same

“Don’t take too long.”

He said, giving up. Too long was an understatement. Phil never knew when to stop.

“I won’t.”

Techno felt his eyes sting a bit when Phil stepped closer to hug him. Phil… 

Phil smelled like driftwood and pine trees.

His hair was as fluffy as Tommy’s.

Phil’s warmth was welcoming and kind.

Phil smelled like home.

Phil… smelled like Phil.

The two spent a good two minutes before letting go of each other. Techno almost didn’t want to, he missed the position so much. 

But he had responsibilities. 

He had to tell Tommy to paint the walls. He had to look for Ranboo’s birthday present. He had to fix Tommy’s braid. He had children to take care of. He had a cafe to run. He had crimes to stop. He had goals. And Phil had them as well.

Phil tipped his bucket hat to Techno and the Blood God nodded in return. 

Techno watched as Phil walked away. But then he stopped.

Techno’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head at the action.

A few seconds go by and Techno grew restless.

“Everything alright?”

He called out and Phil turned sharply to him with an expression Techno couldn’t decipher. Phil smiled at him. Techno was weirded out.

“Yes. I’ll just be on my way. Good night, mate.”

He then walked away, blending with the dark shadows cast by the buildings surrounding them. Techno grumbled to himself and walked back into the cafe. The place was silent. Ranboo and Tommy were probably asleep. Techno would fix Tommy’s braid the first thing in the morning. 

Techno walked back to his room and plopped on his bed. He had an hour to get ready before leaving to do his nightly task. Techno spent this hour by bringing out his journal and write the events of the day. He had seen Ranboo do the same and decided to try it out for himself. It helped in getting his thoughts in line. 

Chat disappeared when Techno and Phil got deeper into the conversation, and Techno was thankful for that. He wasn’t sure if he could handle a stream of voices when he was aggravated. Chat was always docile around Phil.

Techno let a solid thirty minutes pass before he stopped writing and began to don on his outfit, taking a small trip to the bathroom before doing so. He couldn’t pay attention to nature calling when he was in his vigilante mode. The outfit wasn’t that complicated really. 

Just a white vintage dress shirt and black pants with a red belt bag secured around his waist. Technoblade put on the bloodied boots he had shoved under his bed this morning and grimaced as he felt them squelch in his foot. The weapons he had were tucked behind his back, his beloved “Axe of Peace” and “Orphan Obliterator” sat comfortably on his spine. For the last piece of his ensemble, Techno put on a cloak with a mask that covered his face, hair, and body. The cloak had been another gift from Phil. It was when he revealed his illegal career to the strangely accepting man. 

Techno looked at himself in the cracked mirror in his room. He never bothered to get it fixed, he had more important things to do.

After last-minute checks and a 360-degree turn, Techno exited through the backdoor of the cafe. Making sure to be extra careful when passing by Ranboo and Tommy’s door, as he heard the sleepy Enderman snores of the former. Techno made his way to a fellow pink-haired’s store.

[Niki’s Bakery]

Technoblade knew Niki before he knew Phil. The two had met on a random night when they were intercepting the same person. They quickly became colleagues after that. Niki always providing Techno with the information he needed and he would, in return, protect her from people who didn’t have anything better to do with their sad, pathetic lives. The Blood God was called the Blood God for a reason.

Niki was not a force to be reckoned with. Technoblade didn’t know how, when, or why, but the lady had sneaked into Techno’s little world and left a lasting impression. She was a sweet but dangerous soul that Techno was glad to have on his side. If he had anything close to “friends”, it would be Niki, or Nihachu, as what she calls herself in business.

Technoblade would always call her Niki though. 

“Techno, how are you?”

Was the greeting that came when he entered the bakery. Niki was in her vigilante outfit as well, sitting on the pink counter and looking absolutely badass. Technoblade always liked Niki’s outfit. It was simple, direct, and deceiving. She wore a black suit that complemented her features well and a gala mask that made her eyes shine. She wasn’t a well-known vigilante and mostly worked behind the scenes. It was tough but Niki made it work.

“Fine. Phil came by earlier.”

Niki’s head perked up and she jumped on the floor. 

“Really? What did he say? Did he have anything on Wilbur?”

Her eyes were hopeful and Technoblade hated being the one to extinguish that light by reminding her of her dear friend’s death. 

“Yeah. He said he had a new lead or something. I’m still not sure if this is all worth it, honestly.”

Niki’s eyes went hard as steel.

“Of course it is.”

Technoblade could only sigh and bring his head down.

“So… What do you have for me tonight?”

“There’s a robbery by that bank on Snowchester street.”

Technoblade groans. That bank was smaller than his and the boys’ room combined. He hated having to deal with small spaces.

Chapter Text

Philza hated small spaces. 

He was an avian, his species naturally hated being trapped in cages. He deserved the wide space. He belonged in endless, open skies. He was meant to soar among his undeveloped relatives. That was Philza Minecraft’s nature by default. 

But Philza hadn’t flown in over a decade.

He used to try and forget about the state of his wings. He did everything to distract himself from the self-pity and body dysmorphia that infected his mind. He immersed himself in a case that people would call a “lost cause”. Philza did everything he could. But it was never enough.

He was feeling better after getting a lead on the mission he spent the duration of his other son’s youth for. He was getting close to tasting the sweet victory of revenge. Alas, it had been a trap. And Philza felt helpless once more. 

He was in a situation he had been in many, many times before. 

In a cage, with what remains of his flightless wings shackled. The enemies were smart enough to tie his hands and feet. They knew they had to cover the prison with a thick covering that had enough holes for Philza to breathe through, but not to peek in. 

Philza’s perpetrators calculated the entrapment excellently. And Phil had to commend them for that. However, that didn’t mean that the blue-eyed villain would let them get their way.

No matter how excellent and well-thought the plan to capture him was, Philza had found loopholes in the process. Slowing down his breathing, Philza closed his eyes to focus on listening to his environment. His bird traits helped him as he assessed his current situation. 

Philza sensed the echoes of wheels and rocks from where he was sitting. He could hear the quick heartbeats of the men who ambushed him. He could smell the fresh, still-being-used oil for the lamps. 

Philza was being brought underground. He cursed at that realization. The bars around him added more to his growing panic. 

As the wagon (Philza presumed that was what the men put him in) moved forward, Philza took some breathing exercises he learned over the years to calm his nerves. A clear mind always proved to work in difficult circumstances. With a clear mind, he could think about his next move. 

Philza opened his eyes and scanned the cage. A bird’s eyesight was better in the dark. Philza could make out the rough and sharp obsidian bars that made his cage and he cursed again. So he couldn’t force himself out. Not good.

There wasn’t a door on the sides and his only way out was the top lid of the cage. The floor he was sitting on was also made of dark obsidian. 

All Philza could do in this scenario was to wait. 

Wait where the men would bring him. Wait who the men would bring him to. Wait when the men would stop moving. 

Philza didn’t mind waiting. His good and only friend, Technoblade, vocalized his admiration for the man’s patience. After all, Philza had waited ten years just to end up with a false lead. Philza had endured ten years of not talking to his golden child. Philza hated having to wait, but he didn’t have a choice. 

Philza began occupying his mind with other things at the moment. He thought back to the conversation he had with Techno and internally grimaced. He had told Technoblade about the tip given to him. He had led Techno on, telling him the wait wasn’t as long as before. But it seems that Phil was back to square one. 

He was beginning to notice a pattern here. Techno had always said he trusted too much. Phil had been a “villain” for a long time now. Not that he wanted to be. But how could he keep smiling and live beside so-called “heroes” who did nothing but feed their own ego instead of actually doing what they told the public they would do. It wasn’t right. Nothing in the rotting system was.

And Phil couldn’t avenge his son while being a hero. Phil felt something grow behind his eyes as he thought about his son. About his sons .

He thought about Wilbur. The bright, ambitious, brunet, starry brown-eyed boy who spoke with his full emotions. Wilbur would know what to do. Wilbur was good with children, he got that from his mother. Wilbur always knew what to say. Wilbur would make a flawless plan for Phil to get out of his prison. Wilbur would make sure Phil ate his meals. Wilbur would take care of his baby brother. Wilbur would become the greatest and truest hero there ever was. 

Phil missed Wilbur.

Wilbur, who would write silly songs about his father’s age. Wilbur, who would give his loose change to orphans who were failed by the system. Wilbur, who would make Phil coffee for his late-night shifts. Wilbur, who had no qualms about babysitting his stubborn brother. Wilbur, who loved others more than he ever loved himself. 

Wilbur, who would remain eighteen forever. 

Phil missed Tommy. Even if he just saw him yesterday. 

The even brighter, loud, wild, sickly, blond child with the same blue eyes as Phil. Phil had never had a conversation with Tommy since the boy was six. And Tommy didn’t know who Phil was, Phil had made sure of that. 

And yet, Phil couldn’t hide from the sun forever. He couldn’t avoid it. So he would watch Tommy on his free days. He would observe the amazing man Tommy had become with the guidance of his most trusted friend. Phil would give Tommy the whole world just to see that tooth-filled grin. 

Tommy was amazing. Phil didn’t need Techno to tell him that. Both brothers were, but with the absence of the other, Phil had seen more of Tommy shine, multiple times. Tommy had a striking personality that most people found annoying. But the boy’s life was full of irony. 

He lived with an Enderman hybrid who had memory issues. He had a caretaker who owned a small, humble cafe, but was a well-known vigilante. He had low blood pressure but he was a restless soul. And he had an avian father who couldn’t fly. 

Philza regrets a lot of things. But he regrets not getting to know Tommy personally the most. He knew it was for the best, but it had hurt.

It had hurt when Tommy would cry alone and Phil couldn’t console him. It had hurt when Tommy screamed about his hatred for a father he had never met. It had hurt when Tommy ignored everything Techno tried to tell him about Phil. It had hurt when Tommy searched for him on the hour of his sixteenth birthday. 

It hurt because he couldn’t do anything about it.

Phil wanted both his sons back, but he knew that was impossible. One was dead, and the other hated him. Phil let his tears fall.

He had stopped himself from giving in to this reality by focusing on his goal. His revenge. But the truth never gets away. The truth follows you wherever you go, and with Phil being flightless, he couldn’t go far. 

Technoblade had once told Phil about the Greek goddess Hecate. She was the deity of magic and crossroads. Phil constantly thinks about the time he, himself was in the presence of Hecate, when he was at crossroads. It was the day Wilbur and Kristen died, the day the world shattered around him, the day he began hating Fate.

Phil’s breath hitched as memories started flooding his brain. 

It had been a good day. November 16th. The Minecraft family was planning to go to the park to celebrate the inauguration of Wilbur to the hero organization. Tommy had gotten his first tooth removal and he was bragging of how big of a man he was. Wilbur brought along his guitar, humming in his step. Philza followed from behind, his beloved wife’s hand in his own. They had invited Technoblade as well and he texted that he was on his way.

Philza remembered the soft grass he was sitting on. He remembered the joy he felt as he watched Wilbur and Tommy chasing one another, Kristen there to catch the younger every time he tripped. He remembered his loved ones’ wide and innocent smiles.

It had been a good day. Until it wasn’t. 

Screams had erupted from the eastern part of the park. Phil and Wilbur had looked at each other in understanding. Phil told his wife to run away and take the crying Tommy with her. Phil remembered kneeling down and telling Tommy it was fine. That his Wilby and Dad would be back before he could say “Pogchamp”.

But it wasn’t fine. 

It took Phil two weeks to come back. And when he did, his wings were charred black, Wilbur was dead, Tommy was in the hospital, and his wife was dying.

Phil had taken Tommy to Technoblade after Kristen died. Her last wish was for Tommy to grow up safe with his big brother. Phil had not told her about their eldest’s passing. 

Philza had no time to mourn the loss of his key ability when he was captured. But after leaving and embarking on his journey of revenge, reality ran down on Phil and he cried. For months, he denied it. For months, he hid and prayed for his wings to come back. For their feathers to return. But they didn’t. 

The wings had healed but they were different. Instead of snow white, they were midnight black. Instead of fluffy feathers with soft parts, the feathers were dark, charred, and bones could be seen. Phil hated looking at them. He hated everything about them. The thought of losing the one thing he was known for. The thing he took pride in having, snatched away from his grasp by people he thought he knew. People he trusted.

That’s why Phil ran. That’s why Phil trained. That’s why Phil collected. That’s why Phil changed. 

He wanted to bite back. He wanted to make them pay for everything they’ve done. Not just to him and his family, but also to the people they continue to disappoint and take advantage of. Phil had a solid reason. He didn’t have his wings, but he had his power. 

He had told Techno that. 

The wagon stopped and Phil was unceremoniously brought out of his flashbacks 

He got prepared. 

[????, Underground]

Phil watched the top lid of his cage get opened. 

He heard the mutterings of the men who had captured him and clenched his teeth. He could easily kill them using his ability and get the hell out of the place but he didn’t. Phil needed the information. Who wanted him? Why would they want him? 

Slowly, but surely, a man with horns called out to him.

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Come with us and we won’t hurt you. Don’t come with us, and we will.”

Phil wanted to scoff. He glares at the man and complies with their actions.

Phil was being careful. He didn't know who these people were, much less their powers. Their talents could be more dangerous than Phil’s were. 

The men had removed the shackles in his feet and tied an obsidian chain to the one that held his hands. They then asked the villain to follow them through strange tunnels. 

Phil was glad to be out of the cage. He actively took note of his surroundings and the path he came from. He could use that if he wanted to escape. 

After four to five minutes of walking, Phil and the group ended up in front of two tall doors that were guarded by a watchman. The watchman wore a golden gas mask and had scaly green skin that was visible in some parts of his body. He had red glowing eyes that reminded Phil of Technoblade. Except Techno didn’t look at him with obvious contempt.

“Who is this, Ba- Halo?”

The man caught himself before he could reveal Phil’s captor’s name. 

Ba- Halo just showed the man a notepad which made him sputter in shock. 

“Him? That’s him?”

He pointed to Phil. He appeared to panic. Phil was very confused but remained alert and tried to observe the rest of his captors.

There were four in total, including the Halo dude. The one on Phil’s left had a black bandana covering his nose and mouth, and had a white cloth around his head. The one on Phil’s right wore strange retro glasses and had his mouth set in a thin line. The one behind Phil wore a chipped white mask that featured a smiley face . All of them wore shining Netherite Tech. Protection Armour. 

Phil put his guards even higher. These men had either stolen the armor from the Hero HQ or were part of the organization themselves. Either way, they were a dangerous enemy and Phil should avoid them as much as possible.

“-ust see him.”

Phil turned back into the conversation Mr. Halo was having with the Creeper hybrid and narrowed his eyes. 

Soon, the Creeper hybrid pressed a button that opened the large doors and the sight shook Phil to the core. 

How? Why? Wilbur and I blew this place up! Why is it here?

Phil looked around frantically and finally noticed the signage on the doors.

SMP-002

Phil was even more shocked. 

SMP-002? A second one???

“Get moving.”

The one with the white mask said to Phil and pushed him forward. Phil caught himself from falling. 

[SMP-002]

The place was replicated exactly the way Phil remembered it.

It had the same gray metal walls, the same steel staircases, the same interior of a small, harmless village, but if you looked down, you could see the sea of cages and prison cells. Cells that held every hybrid known to the world.

Each cell had no bed and no windows. If you wanted to defecate or urinate, you were given one tiny bowl that was taken and cleaned every week. Potatoes were the food given to the occupant, and each occupant had 3 potatoes for a whole day. Each cell bore obsidian walls and floors and hot lava was pouring in front of it to prevent the prisoner from escaping. The SMP held simple, obedient, and less dangerous prisoners inside cages. The worst and powerful ones were kept in cells. 

Phil knew this because he survived two weeks in a prison cell. But these people probably had it longer than him.

Mr. Halo probably didn’t know Phil knew this, judging by his confusion when Phil stopped walking down the stairs. Phil knew he was pale and he could feel his hands grow ice cold. His heart was in his throat as the group forced him to move forward. Phil felt like puking. He hated this place more than anything else. 

Cries and shouts echoed through the walls and Phil wanted to fly away.

No, he didn’t want to experience it again. He knew he had to escape. Fuck the information and his captor, Phil was getting out of here. 

Phil didn’t even notice that the group had stopped in front of a door and if Phil wasn’t death-pale already, he could’ve sworn he paled even more. There was ringing in his ears and his feet were frozen in place. He knew that room. He knew who was inside. He knew the explosion hadn’t killed the man. That fucker was still alive. 

The man with the black bandana looked at Phil weirdly. 

“You okay, man?”

Phil made his first move. Using his tied-up hands, he punched the one on his left and the man fell to the ground with a loud thud. Phil then gritted his teeth and used his left leg to give a roundhouse kick which caught the remaining of his captors off guard and made them fall down as well. 

After that, Phil ran. His cloak had fallen behind him and his wings were open and visible. He ran like hell. Past shooting guards. Past crying children. Past random villains who took their weapons out and chased after him. Phil didn’t stop running. His heart was hammering in his chest and all he could hear was the sweet call of the opening. 

Phil felt that he could make it out.

He was so close to the doors, they opened as the Creeper hybrid was letting another group in. This time with a member that reminded Phil so much of someone that his pace slowed. 

But before he could use his avian vision to make out the man’s features, his captors had caught up to him and slammed him to the ground. Phil’s head hit the hard floor harshly and he began seeing black spots in his vision.

“Really didn’t expect that from you, man. You were doing so great by obeying easily.”

Phil wanted to yell. He wanted to thrash around and tell them to get the fuck off. But he was dizzy. He could taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth from where he accidentally bit his cheek from falling. The ringing in his ears intensified as he felt his breathing get constricted. 

Phil could still hear the commotion around him. There was a loud alarm going off and Phil wanted to make it stop. Everything was hazy and Phil was losing consciousness. He tried to lift his head but it was slammed down again by the man with the white mask. His captor was abnormally strong.

Phil tried to get in touch with his power. By any means, he should get out of this place. 

He laid still in the uncomfortable position he was in. Phil tried to reach out and pull at the strings that connected him to his ability. He was given two strings, one white, one black. Phil mentally grasped at the black one and could feel his captor lose his strength from above him. Phil gripped the string even tighter and he could hear his captor choking on something. 

Phil smiled as the cut in his cheek closed. 

But then his head was slammed on the floor again, harder than before, and Phil fully blacked out. 

[Prison Cell, SMP-002]

Phil had woken up to the sound of someone crying. 

He was a bit disoriented and dark spots still danced in his vision. He was sure he had a huge bump in his head and his body ached all over. Still, Phil was awake and that was all that matters. He had to find a way out. 

Phil sat up from his awkward position on the floor and looked at the room he was in. Dark obsidian walls surrounded him and hot, blistering lava was pouring on one side. Phil crept further into the cell, trying to get away from the heat. He could make out scratch marks and splashes of dried blood on the walls when his vision cleared. It was then that he noticed he wasn’t alone in the cell. 

Over there, huddled up in one corner of a cell was the shell of a person. Phil was sure the crying noises came from them, as they were visibly shivering and sobbing.

When Phil got closer, the person cried even more and Phil heard his heartbeat pace up in anger. He was in a cell with a child.  Not a literal child, but the person looked younger than Tommy and was thinner than the already lanky blond. Phil clenched his fists. The SMP had brought a child in this disgusting trade?

“Shhh, shhh, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a prisoner too, see?”

The child slowly released their head from their ball position to look at Phil. And Phil did a double-take at their features. The child had ginger hair and ears like a red fox. They were thin and had hollow cheeks. They looked younger than what Phil guessed they were and had traces of babyhood on their face. But what shocked Phil was the child’s similarity to his own child, Wilbur. 

The child had the same downward eyebrows as Wil did. The same nose and the same face shape Wil had when he was a child. The only difference was their eyes. Where Wil had muddy brown, the child had pure black. Phil was extremely confused.

At his expression, the child started crying again. 

“Ah, shhh shh, I’m sorry, mate. I’m just surprised to find a child in this shithole.”

Philza knew he wasn’t supposed to curse in front of a child this young but at that moment, he didn’t particularly care. He knew the kid had experienced worse, judging from the scars on their arms that looked awfully like lashes of a whip. 

The child then wiped their nose to look up to Phil and curled their tail around him. A fox hybrid, then.

“Papa said I’m not supposed to talk to strange people. Unless it’s in a life or death situation.”

Philza let out a small chuckle.

“Am I strange?”

The child’s shoulders relaxed when they heard Phil laugh.

“Yes, you have strange wings. And a strange mask.”

Phil removed his mask to try to gain the child’s trust. 

“I’m Phil. What’s your name?”

The child looked at him hesitantly, ears twitching and tail swishing.

“I’m Fundy.”

Phil smiled brightly and the child gave a small one back.

“Hi, Fundy. It's nice to meet you, mate. How old are you?”

Fundy held up their fingers to Phil.

“I’m seven. I’m turning eight in…” They trailed off. “I don’t know. Only Papa knows.”

“Do you know where your Papa is?”

Fundy nodded gleefully. Ears perking up at the mention of their Papa.

“Papa was asked to go outside. The bad guys are keeping me here to make sure Papa comes back.”

Fundy’s face fell.

“I miss Papa.”

Phil felt another crying session coming so he gently moved closer to the child and patted their head. 

“I’m sure your Papa will come back soon.” 

Fundy leaned into the touch, tail swishing rapidly. Phil felt a sense of protectiveness for the young soul. They reminded Phil of his own sons when they were younger, touchy and innocent. Phil couldn’t say the same thing now.

Phil tried to get more out of Fundy for the next few minutes. Eventually, he found out that Fundy was born and raised in the SMP-002 and that both their parents were prisoners of the place. He also found out that Fundy’s mother was dead because apparently the guards had “Taken Mama out and murdered her.” When Phil asked them if they knew what “murder”, Fundy had replied with, “Papa says they took Mama to a candy store. And when I asked what a candy store was, Papa said it was a huge room with sweet food. I want to go outside and see a candy store.”

After more minutes of talking, Fundy had gone sleepy and kept yawning. Phil offered his lap to the sleepy child, who stared at him warily, before creeping into his lap and falling asleep on Phil’s chest. Phil hugged them close and let them rest. 

Soon enough, Phil’s own eyes started drooping from exhaustion. He fought it off at first, by pinching himself and watching the lava flow. But the call of sleep was stronger and Phil gave in to it by lying down, Fundy still on his chest, and closing his eyes, mind drifting to the dreamscape. 

[Phil’s Dreamscape]

Dreams were always the same for Phil. Which were, in fact, Nightmares.

They started off wonderful, happy, and tempered too much with Phil’s desires. This one wasn’t different. In this mind-woven land, Phil was with his children. And they were lying in a field of fresh azaleas, fragrant and beautiful. Tommy was saying something.

“You’re really old, Phil.”

“Thanks, mate, I didn’t know.”

Phil replied sarcastically and Wilbur erupted in laughter. Tommy sputtered nonsensical words and pouted. Phil laughed with Wilbur. 

“I was just stating the obvious. I mean come on. You’re old and you have a wife.”

“Tommy, his wife is your mother. The woman who brought you to this world.”

“Exactly Wilby, Mum is too perfect to settle with someone named Phil . Ew, even his name sounds old.”

Loud laughter was let out once more and the three were holding their stomachs at the end of the session. Phil was extremely happy. His Wilbur was all smiles and giggling, and his Tommy was cackling while being a little shit. Everything was perfect and Phil wished he could stay in this moment forever. 

“Dad, you need to ground Tommy when we get home. He’s being a gremlin.”

Tommy had gone wild at this insult.

“I am not a gremlin! You’re just an arrogant bastard! A fucker!”

“Tommy…”

“I’m not done with my insults! I have fresh ones right here!” 

Phil watched as the two squabbled, closing his eyes in content. Yes, he liked this moment.

Suddenly, everything went quiet. 

Phil opened his eyes and went alert at the absence of the two chaotic spirits. They were just in front of him minutes before. 

“Boys?”

Phil called out and stood up. Under his feet, the azaleas started wilting into red spider lilies. Phil started to run around in search of his children. 

“Wil? Tommy? If this is another prank, it’s not funny!”

Phil walked around some more, his voice shaky and getting hoarse. Finally, he noticed something in the distance. No, someone . 

“Wilbur!”

Phil ran.

“Thank Prime! Mate, I finally found y-”

“Did you?”

Phil stopped in his tracks. 

The Wilbur in front of him had a bloody face. His hair was dirty with soot, and his eyes snapped shut. He bore the same face Phil last saw on the day he left SMP-001. His dead son’s face.

“Did you even bother to find my body, Dad? To give me a proper burial?”

Phil stuttered in his words.

“W-Wil, we blew the place up. You were in the explosion. I didn’t- I couldn’t-”

“And what of Tommy, Dad? Why did you abandon him?”

Phil fell to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

“I didn’t abandon him, Wil. I needed him safe so I left-”

“Oh, but you did abandon him.”

Wilbur glowed and grew into a light Phil had to shield his eyes from.

“You abandoned us.”

Phil let the sun engulf him as he cried out in agony.

Link to Tommy Character Design Sheet here

Chapter Text

Wilbur hadn’t seen the sun in ten years. 

So when he was given the offer to go outside, the twenty-eight-year-old man almost wanted to jump in joy. He hadn’t even thought of escaping from the organization in desperation to feel the sun on his skin. But when the guards had told him he had to carry out a mission, Wilbur protested.

He was a hero. Yes, he was dead to the world but his name on the records didn’t disappear. He was Siren. And he would forever be Siren.

But then he was threatened. 

His precious fox son would pay the price for his failure. They said they would take Fundy away from him and sell him in an auction. The boy was just seven. He had not seen the sun in his whole life. Wilbur didn’t have much of a choice. It was his freedom in exchange for his child. 

Wilbur did what he wished his own father did for him. He agreed to the mission.

Now, Wilbur wasn’t a stranger to missions. He had trained for this. But nothing prepared him for the current age. Especially when he was hidden and held captive for a decade. The roads were new. The names of the streets had changed. And Wilbur didn’t enter the present in the same state he left it. 

He had changed. He was a father now. He held more responsibility than he did before. And despite his continuous denial, Wilbur carried so much trauma.

He was scared of a lot of things. His mind goes blank at seeing certain objects. His breathing stops whenever he hears specific sounds. He tries to be strong but ultimately fails in the end. Wilbur believed he was stronger because of his capture. That his torture gave him strength.

But in the end, our belief in lies only hurts us more. And Wilbur knew that. So did Ghostbur.

Wilbur couldn’t remember when his docile alter appeared. Maybe it was during a hot iron session. Or the whip one. Wilbur couldn’t remember a lot of things about his stay on SMP-002. However, one thing was for sure, Wilbur owed Ghostbur a lot. 

The man always came at the right time. Always pushed Wilbur back and took the pain. Always dealt with Fundy when Wilbur felt it was too much. Wilbur wanted to be a good father to Fundy. Especially after Sally passed away. There were just moments when the sight of his son after a hard session overwhelmed his mind. 

Wilbur’s eyes darkened at the memory of the first time that had happened. He had almost hurt Fundy. The poor lad was crying so loudly. Ghostbur was like a heaven-sent. Wilbur had let him take the lead as he tried to get his nerves on the line. 

Wilbur also hadn’t sung in ten years. 

With his power like that of a siren, he was a valuable asset of the SMP. But also the most dangerous one. The SMP had a hard time controlling him. Wilbur almost escaped a few times during his first two years. That was until they had turned to brutal acts as a way of keeping him.

Wilbur closed his eyes sharply and lowered his head.

The SMP would make Wilbur scream for hours with no end. They were pretty creative with their ways. Every torture method was tested on Wilbur, having just enough pain to make him cry and bleed, but never enough to kill him. There were days Wilbur wished the pain was enough. He had wished to fade away and disappoint the bastards who wanted him alive. It was during those days where Ghostbur fully took control and let Wilbur rest. 

The torture made Wilbur’s voice hoarse. Sometimes, it even made Wilbur too weak to even utter a single letter. The guards then forced Wilbur to learn sign language later on. And Wilbur taught everything he knew to Fundy, hoping it would make up for what he lacked during the child’s rapid growth. Wilbur knew he lacked a never-ending list of things. 

Wilbur missed singing. He missed playing on the guitar his family had given him. He missed the sweet, calming sound of music. He missed freedom. He missed home.

Wilbur had set his mind to escape the SMP. He would visit his plan and use it as a distraction during daily sessions. 

Wilbur allowed himself to cling to false hope.

Every day, he would tell Fundy about his dream. He would tell Fundy about his plans of escaping and taking Fundy with him. He would tell the kid about the outside world. About how he planned to get a nice apartment and enroll Fundy in a nearby school. Fundy would be an excellent student because of his intelligence. Meanwhile, Wilbur would go on and become a high-ranking hero. He would then fetch Fundy after school, and the two of them would meet up with Wilbur’s younger brother, Tommy.

Wilbur smiled sadly.

Wilbur wondered how Tommy was. He wondered if Phil raised him well. Wilbur doubts his father did, seeing as he abandoned his son in the middle of a battle. And yet, Wilbur hoped that Tommy at least didn’t hate Wilbur for leaving him. Wilbur didn’t mean to. He knew how painful abandonment was, and he would never wish it on his worst enemy. Well, except for Phil. Wilbur wanted to chuck every curse and trick he knew on the man. 

Philza left Wilbur. And afterward, when Wilbur was in the SMP-002, the man didn’t even bother looking for him. He left Wilbur to rot in a prison cell. He left Wilbur to blindly raise a child on his own. Philza left Wilbur to die.

Wilbur would never forgive him for that. 

“Yo, Mermaid, get your head out of the clouds.”

Wilbur shook his head and tuned in to his position. He was in a car owned by the SMP. The men had shoved a box of some sort of drug in his tied up hands. Wilbur was spacing out too much these days. He hoped his excitement for the outside would remove all the exhaustion and pain he felt.

Wilbur winced. His back still hurt from the fifty lashes they gave him two days ago. The wounds from his torture never quite healed right. None of the prisoners were given proper medical care. As a result, Wilbur’s once broken ankle was at a weird angle. The scars on his back looked horrible, and had bumps and discoloration. Wilbur had grown to hate mirrors.

“I’m here.”

He said in a hoarse voice. He was glad for the ginger tea his captors gave him yesterday. They said his powers would be necessary for the mission they would carry out. Wilbur doubted it. He thinks they just want to see him struggle and take away the very thing Wilbur missed having for years. His voice. His freedom.

Wilbur glanced in Quackity’s direction. Quackity was a hero too. But unlike Wilbur, he had abandoned his hero deeds and willingly joined the SMP. Wilbur never understood him despite Quackity trying to convince him. Wilbur thought Quackity was a liar and a fraud. And that he never deserved to be a hero in the first place.

But Quackity had given Wilbur mixed signals. He couldn’t fully place Quackity in the “bad guys'' category. Because, despite everything, Quackity had sneaked in a first aid kit for Wilbur after a hard session. Quackity had put in more potatoes in Fundy’s daily meal. Quackity had taught Fundy his ABC’s when Wilbur was out for days. Wilbur was unsure whether or not Quackity was friend or foe. Still, he never let his guard down in front of the man. 

Suddenly, the car stopped moving. And Wilbur was shoved outside, the obsidian chains around his wrists taken away. Wilbur stumbled in his step.

“The event is at midnight. Sell every last drop of it. Don’t ask for help. We have a tracker. You know the consequences. Return to this location by 5 am.”

Before Wilbur could reply, Quackity had closed the car and driven off. Wilbur sighs and examines the box in his hands and the backpack given to him earlier.

Inside the backpack were simple essentials that Wilbur needed to carry out the mission. A wad of cash, granola bars, a bottle of water, a mask, a gripline hook, a stun gun, a dagger, a first aid kit, a communicator, a compass that pointed to the direction of the event, and some sunglasses. Wilbur despised the thought of doing a villain’s dirty work. But it was this or Fundy’s demise.

Wilbur then opened the box of presumed drugs. There were twenty vials, all in all, purple liquid with a faint glow swirling inside. Wilbur made a face. Poison. 

Sighing once more, the man put the box in the bag and swung it over his shoulder. He hesitantly looked in his reflection through the screen of the communicator. He looked decent enough, excluding the slight hollowness of his cheeks and the eye bags that decorated his face. Wilbur hastily put on the mask and sunglasses and walked out of the dark alley his captors dropped him in.

Wilbur gasped. 

The feeling of heat wasn’t new to Wilbur. 

He felt it every day. The hot wall of lava… The heated metal rod on his skin… None of it reminded him of anything pleasant. But the warmth Wilbur felt from the sun was incomparable to everything he had just mentioned. The warmth had seeped right into his core, going past the yellow sweater the SMP gave Wilbur in order to blend in. The said man was starting to sweat, as it was noon, and the celestial body was at its peak. But Wilbur didn’t care.

He happily threw his hands up and started jumping up and down. He earned a few stares from pedestrians but the attention didn’t throw the man off. He ran and danced. He acted wild. Wilbur was the happiest he had been in ten years. Oh, how he missed this. Oh, how he missed the sun. Oh, how he missed being free.

The small voice in Wilbur’s mind reminded him of how he wasn’t fully free. Of how he was being used as a weapon and a minion. Of how his poor son waited for him in a hot prison cell underground. Wilbur pushed the voice away. He wanted to indulge in this moment for a few more minutes. He let himself believe in a lie once again. Reality would crash down on him eventually, but Wilbur continued his celebration.

Nothing could erase the joy that filled his mind, heart, and soul. Ghostbur let out a sad chuckle. 

[L’Manburg]

After acting like a complete and utter fool for about ten minutes, Wilbur finally explored the city.

It was way different from what it was before. Of course, there was no surprise in that, but it overwhelmed Wilbur a little, especially after realizing how the rest of the world moved on and improved in his absence.

For the rest of the afternoon, the grown man had acted like a child. Pointing to things and muttering nonsensical things to himself. He had purchased ice cream at some point, but quickly gave it to some random child after remembering how he promised he would try ice cream with Fundy. 

Wilbur strode along the streets with zeal and never stopped to rest. He tried everything. He went to the amusement park and spent the SMP’s money. He didn’t go to food stores though, keeping his oath. Instead, he focused on finishing the granola bars provided for him. Wilbur also bought a few trinkets and toys he could hopefully bring back to his son.

The events of the day caught up to Wilbur by about 7 pm and Wilbur took a nap on a park bench. The same park where everything went wrong. The same park where Wilbur last saw his brother and mother. Despite all the pain, the place brought him, Wilbur quickly fell into a dreamless sleep, the rough texture of obsidian not rubbing against his body. 

By 10 pm, Wilbur was awoken by an alarm and the sound of barking dogs. Some hero had come into the park with their dogs and started their night patrol. Wilbur hurriedly wiped the drowsiness of his face and ran as quick as he could from the rather comfortable park bench. With the backpack still on his shoulder and the compass in his hand, Wilbur’s mind closed in and focused on the mission given to him. 

Gone were his excitement and ecstasy from a few hours ago. His eyebrows scrunched up in focus, and his mouth was set in a thin line. He darted past historical statues he had obsessed on earlier in the day. He ran between food stalls, ignoring the tempting scent of street food. The child in him shattered as the harsh reality governed his thoughts again. He was a pawn. A minion of evil. But he wasn’t evil himself. 

Wilbur arrived at his destination after an hour of running. He stopped a block away from the site of the event. He then turned to a hidden alley and pulled out the box from his bag. His hands were trembling. And even if he was wearing a thick sweater, the temperature around him seemed to drop. Wilbur blamed it on the night breeze. Ghostbur harmlessly suggested it was his nervousness. The former denied it harshly. The alter shut up. 

Taking a deep breath, Wilbur slowly opened the box to take a good look at the bottles of poison. Because of the low lighting, the potions appeared to grow brighter. A memory came to Wilbur abruptly. 

It was a memory of a golden-haired father giving a book of medicinal potions to a brunet boy. The brunet was only six, but he had begged his father to buy him the latest edition. The boy wanted to learn about potions then, and had cried when his father told him that he might quickly lose interest. But the father still bought the book for his son. And the son had treasured the book and studied it with all his heart, defying his father’s initial warning. 

Wilbur bitterly smiled. Fathers never believed in their children’s ability. They were too protective. Too strict. And they never cared. Wilbur was a father now, too. But he was fully against the last trait. He never aimed for the title “father”, he wanted to be “papa”. And that was why he was in the scenario he was in. That was why he agreed to becoming a pawn. His child was his number one priority. He had no one else. 

The box contained a note that Wilbur had a hard time reading because of the awful handwriting. He got the gist of it, in the end. It said he had to advertise the vial as a love potion. Wilbur frowned at that. How was he supposed to sell a love potion that actually was poison? Was this the SMP’s best attempt at solving overpopulation? Before Wilbur could further think of the question, a loud Thump! made him turn around. 

Wilbur narrowed his eyes in the darkness and quickly grabbed a small dagger from his bag. 

A tall figure stood a few meters away from him. They wore a black-ish half hood, a red gas mask, bright yellow goggles, and a weird medieval outfit with a red sash that reminded Wilbur of someone he knew. The figure also had bright red boots that clashed with their outfit. Wilbur gave a sound of distaste. Whoever the figure was, they had an awful sense of style. 

The figure shifted. 

“What’re you giving that look for?”

Wilbur had forgotten to put his mask and sunglasses back on. The figure’s voice was modulated, and they sounded like a distorted machine. Wilbur’s grip on his dagger tightened. The person was smart enough to use a sound modulator so they wouldn’t be easily identified. The idea of the figure being a hero was chucked out of the window. Heroes were egoistical. They wouldn’t hide their face and modulate their voice on purpose. So was this figure a villain then?

“Y-Your outfit sucks.”

Wilbur manages to get out. His voice was getting better and better. And he felt like he could use a wee amount of his power. However, he didn't want to waste it on a mysterious figure. He had to keep it for an emergency he might need at the event. 

Suddenly, the hooded figure laughs aloud.

“Geez, big man, why’d you have to point that out. I know my outfit sucks. It’s just a mish-match of what I had and what I could steal-” Wilbur’s ears perk up. Steal? So, villain. “-from my brother’s closet.”

Wilbur huffs. He was getting more and more confused. But he gave a small smile from the figure’s amusement. The person stopped talking. 

“Uhh… Why did I say those things… Nevermind! Anyway!”

The figure walks close to Wilbur and the man steps back, blocking the potions of poison behind him.

“Whatcha got there, big man?”

A weird feeling settled in Wilbur’s chest at the phrase “big man”.

“None of your business.”

Wilbur grits his teeth. This could be a villain and could try selling the potions themselves. Then they would take the money and Wilbur would get severely punished by the SMP. Wilbur didn’t want that. 

The figure crosses their arms.

“I think it is. I need to oversee what happens in this part of the city, y’know? No villains should be able to smuggle some sus stuff under my watch. So why not let me inspect those weird-looking bottles and when I can confirm they’re not evil and shit, I’ll let you go.”

Wilbur blinks. 

“Yo-You’re not… A villain?”

The figure uncrosses their arms and puts them on their hips. They then offer their left hand for a handshake. 

“A villain? Ew, Prime no! I’m a vigilante! A famous one at that. Nice to meet you! I’m Big Man Innit and I love women!”

Wilbur frowns at the hand in front of him and hesitantly shakes it.

“Big Man Innit? That’s-That’s an absurd name.”

Big Man Innit sputters incoherent noises. 

“It’s brilliant! And totally easy to remember.”

“Uh-huh.”

Wilbur replies, unamused. 

“Wh-What are your pronouns?”

Wilbur asks, trying to distract the person from the box of poison and buy more time.

Big Man Innit stops to think for a second before lifting their head up.

“He/Him. You?”

“Same.”

An awkward silence fell over the two. 

“So…”

Big Man Innit started.

“What do you have there? Like, in all seriousness.”

Wilbur squints his eyes.

“Drugs.”

Big Man Innit’s right hand suddenly went to reach inside his cloak and he let a nervous laugh.

“Uhh, you know that’s illegal right?”

“I do.”

“You know I have to “arrest” you, right?”

“I do.”

“Okay, we can do this- Wait what? You do?!”

“Yes. What I’m doing right now is highly suspicious.”

Big Man Innit tilts his head in confusion.

“This is a very weird situation.”

Wilbur sighs and wrings his hands. 

“I’m not a villain. I’m a hero. But I’m being held captive by villains. They want me to carry out a villain mission. They’re using my only child as a hostage. I don’t wanna sell drugs. But I need to give them the money they need.”

Wilbur was panting by the end of his speech. Talking took up most of his energy and his throat was starting to ache again. 

After a few breaths, Wilbur finally focused on the figure in front of him. 

“I do not want my son to suffer. But I also do not want to carry out a mission that is against my moral standards. So unless you have some genius plan that lets me do both, I’m going to have to stop you.”

Wilbur was having a hard time figuring out the vigilante’s expression because of the goggles and the mask he wore. 

“...What if I told you I did have a genius plan?”

“What?”

“So you said you had to sell the drugs right? Probably at some drug event. I’m a vigilante. You’re a hero. We could pretend to sell the drugs but perform a drug bust by the end of it. Tie and roughen them up, y’know? Then you can get the money and go home to your child, while I become that super cool vigilante who stopped a huge drug transaction.”

Wilbur just stared at the now jumping-up-and-down weirdly dressed figure. 

“That… Might work.”

“Of course it will! And all thanks to my awesome and pog brain.”

Wilbur musters up a smile.

“What do we do first?”

Big Man Innit says excitedly.

“We’re testing how good your marketing skills are.”

[The Camarvan, L’Manburg]

“This is stupid. And risky.”

“That’s how I roll. By the way, you said you were a hero. So what powers do you ha-”

“The event is about to start. Let’s go.”

Wilbur tried to calm his nerves as he handed the vigilante the glowing bottles of potions. He thought back to a few minutes ago when he and Mr. Innit had ran to the nearest lab and had prepared tons of awkward potions with glowing ink sacs dyed with an orange hue. The real poison potions were still in the box but just hidden beneath some cardboard. Both Wilbur and the vigilante had also changed their outfit. 

Wilbur had fixed himself up and had hidden his hair in an old red beanie he had found at the side of the alley. A brown trench coat also brought itself into the mess and Wilbur tried his best to get the soot and dirt off the piece of clothing. The black mask from the SMP wasn’t forgotten and Wilbur couldn’t help admitting he looked like a pretty badass villain. 

Mr. Big Man Innit, on the other hand, had ditched the hooded cloak and goggles. And Wilbur was getting a headache from the similarity the vigilante had to his father. Innit had the same tufts of blonde hair that curled around his head. When Wilbur had ruffled it gently, the blond only laughed. But it wasn’t his hair that stopped Wilbur in his tracks. It was his eyes.

Eyes that were as blue as the Atlantic ocean. Eyes that shone with hope and determination. Young, innocent, eyes that analyzed the world freely and without hindrances. Eyes that dove deep into your core. The only difference between those eyes and Phil’s was that Innit didn’t look at Wilbur in disappointment. Innit didn’t look at Wilbur with inattentive eyes. Innit didn’t look at Wilbur the way his father did. 

Right then and there, Wilbur decided Innit was NOT Philza Minecraft. And, based on Wilbur’s speculations, Innit was still a child. Younger than eighteen, which was what the kid said his age was. Wilbur would do what he could to protect the young vigilante whenever he had the chance. He was a hero, and Innit’s arrival in his life reminded him of his duty. 

“Name and organization?”

The man at the entrance asked.

Wilbur cleared his throat before speaking in a heavily accented voice.

“Will. SMP-002.”

The man’s eyes widened. He looks at Innit and coughs.

“How about him?”

“The name’s Theseus.”

Innit replies in an equal accented voice. Wilbur looks at him strangely.

“H-He’s with me. SMP-002.”

Wilbur briefly cuts in before the man could ask any more questions. Theseus? 

The man simply nods and hastily lets the two imposters inside the building. 

Once inside, Wilbur had to pause and cautiously observe their surroundings.

The Camarvan was an old warehouse that had been turned into a Walmart version of the neighboring country, Las Nevadas. LED lights that changed colors were hung carelessly all over, and there were multiple booths scattered around the place. If this wasn’t a drug event, it could even pass for a low budget science fair. There was a stage at the center of the warehouse, which was decorated like a poker table. Wilbur could understand why Quckity chose to sell the poison to this particular event.

“Do we have our own booth?”

Innit asks from beside him. 

“There weren’t any instructions... So, no. Probably just advertise and sell as much as we can.”

Innit nods.

“On it.”

The two silently darted past a sea of criminals and villains, who were advertising their own set of drugs, and made their way to the center stage. Another group was using the microphone to showcase their potions, but after a small, stern whisper from Wilbur, they blindly exited the platform and walked away. Innit was frowning at the sequence of events, he was trying to figure out what Wilbur’s power was. If the said Siren was concerned about the vigilante finding out, he sure didn’t show it.

Taking a deep breath, Wilbur grabbed the microphone and stood still for a few minutes.

This is going to work. He thought. There’s no other way.

Wilbur felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to the vigilante who was staring at him with wild eyes. Innit quickly gave a thumbs up and pulled out one of the awkward potions. Wilbur smiled behind his mask. 

Yes, it was going to work. Because he had a clear goal in his mind. He had a well-thought-out plan. He had the lanky Big Man Innit beside him. And he was a hero. Wilbur was Siren.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and everyone in between! I come from the SMP-002, and what I have with me is more powerful than any potion in this building tonight. Behold, and focus your eyes on the love potion, Juliette!”

Wilbur raised his left arm dramatically and  Innit confidently raised the vial. 

The loud chatter from the people around them quickly fell into hushed whispers, and after a few seconds, almost every person had turned towards the center stage, eyes wide and attentive. Wilbur grins.

“This sweet elixir has long-lasting effects of infatuation, affection, and love, depending on how you use it. It can allow you to bend someone to your will, and basic logic will fall on deaf ears.”

Wilbur walks around, bringing Innit and the vial forward. The silence grew more and more.

“You could use it as a mind-control tool, or as much as love potions go, you could use it on someone you love. So, please,”

Wilbur turns to the crowd and opens the box.

“Be my guest, and buy these potions. ”

Chaos erupted. 

Wilbur grinned. 

Beside him, Innit prepared to launch a smoke grenade. 

Wilbur gave himself the hope of believing that this day wasn’t going to be too bad.

Philza design here

Chapter Text

Tommy was definitely having a bad day. 

After that super weird encounter he had with the cloaked man and his brother two days ago, his life had never been the same. He was constantly distracted during his missions, and he had even contemplated actually asking Technoblade about what happened. 

But, that would mean he needed to explain why he was even sneaking behind boxes in the first place, and the possible results of that scenario would be both awkward and scary.

If Technoblade finds out, Tommy might get grounded forever. He might never get to be a hero and save people’s lives. He might never get to be the source of someone’s safety and happiness. He might never experience that adrenaline rush he gets when running from villains and criminals again. He might never be free.

So Tommy keeps his mouth shut. He proceeds with his normal daily routine. Waiter by day, Vigilante by night. Totally normal. Until it isn’t.

This certain day was all kinds of odd for the sixteen-year-old.

It started totally fine at first, with his usual schedule. Homeschool with Technoblade in the morning went quite well in his opinion. Despite almost failing in stupid history, his scores were pretty average. Well, trying to cheat on a test with only having one classmate (Ranboo) to cheat on from was not an ideal situation to be in. Especially if that classmate has short-term memory loss. 

In the afternoon, Tommy worked as a waiter/cashier at the Bedrock Bros Cafe. It was a small, hidden bookshop/coffee shop in the sixth precinct of L’manburg. The cafe wasn’t famous and a blooming merchandise, but it provided a relaxing and stress-relieving atmosphere for the regulars who accidentally stumbled upon it. Plus, it gave them a decent amount of cash. Tommy loved the cafe. 

It was his home, even if he constantly tells Technoblade that his big brother’s illegally enforcing child labor. 

Once the late-night falls, however, the world turns upside down for the young teenager. 

Tommy becomes Big Man Innit.

Ranboo has said many, many times to change the name but Tommy still thought it was the perfect alias for his “cool and totally poggers” vigilante persona. So, the hybrid just sighs and lets him have his way. He believes Tommy will regret it soon enough. But so far, in the last five months, the blond hasn’t even given it much thought. 

Big Man Innit brought out a side of Tommy he didn’t know was there.

Whenever he explored the city, clad in a cheap hooded cloak he altered to fit his style, Tommy felt ecstatic. Whenever he jumped from rooftop to rooftop and swung with his self-made rope-propellers, Tommy felt confident. Whenever he stopped even the smallest of crimes, Tommy felt like he could conquer the world.

He never complained about the tasks he had to accomplish. He was a lone vigilante. He didn’t have a partner who could tell him where the best gigs were. Where the activities could give him the spotlight of heroic deeds. He didn’t care. Tommy scouted crimes on his own. He would help with every simple problem and come up with a quick solution.

Someone trying to rob a kid’s bike? Make them apologize and return the bike or turn them to the authorities. An elderly man lost on his way home? Patiently accompany them on the way and entertain them with stories. A teenage lady being bothered by hooligans? Pretend to be the lady’s friend and lead her to safety. 

Big Man Innit was quite popular in the lower, less frequented by heroes, precincts. He didn’t think any task was too “easy” or too “important”. He approached the scenario as he always did, confident and straightforward, and offered his best services. 

The people of the lower precincts loved Big Man Innit, and even the bottom class villains and criminals respected the vigilante. So if Tommy happened to pass a certain old couple’s home, there would always be a delicious wrapped burrito inside the house’s mailbox. Tommy would do the same thing he does every time. Take the burrito, leave a thank-you note for the couple, and give the burrito to the young lad who lives inside a makeshift cardboard box by the train station. 

Big Man Innit treated all his missions fair and square. He may say things differently and may come off as annoying to most people, but his intentions are as pure as a snow. Tommy lived by a moral code. 

Help those who need help, and never let the bad guys get their way.

He was sure he heard it from someone a long time ago, but he doesn’t know for sure. Either way, the code was simple, direct, and powerful. And Tommy had engraved every word of it in his heart, soul, and mind. 

So imagine his surprise when he met Siren. 

Siren, as he introduced himself, confused Tommy greatly.

He claimed to be a hero, or ex-hero, who was being blackmailed and held captive by a villain organization called SMP-002. Tommy has never heard of the hero Siren, but he knows the SMP-002. It was a very dangerous organization and the activities carried out by it are lethal. But Tommy never backs out from a challenge and neither does Big Man Innit. 

When he revealed his plan to Siren, he wasn’t actually 1000% confident about it. However, without taking the risk, how would he know if it would even work in the first place? Tommy was reckless that way. With this plan, he could help both Siren and stop the SMP. He could also perform his first drug bust. That was pog. 

“Let me get this straight, you want me to remove my disguise? Uhh, fucking why?”

Big Man Innit crosses his arms at his brunet associate for this mission.

Siren simply puts on a dirty brown trench coat covered in dust and soot. Tommy’s face cringes behind the mask. 

“Not all of it. The villains might recognize your vigilante outfit. Maybe just the hood and goggles? You can keep your mask.”

Siren replies with a voice that sounds strained. Tommy almost felt guilty for making him speak. He didn’t know what the ex-hero had been through under the villains but clearly, it was bad enough to make the adult act skirmish and speak in a brittle voice. So, instead of questioning the man further, Tommy removes his hood and goggles, folding the former neatly and placing it in his small bag. 

He almost misses the moment Siren gives him a peculiar look. 

It was a look of familiarity. Then a look of admiration. Then a look of pain. Then a look of agony. Then a look of fierce protectiveness. Multiple emotions went through the Siren’s exposed muddy brown eyes and Tommy frowned at these reactions. 

Just who was this man and why does he look at Tommy in that manner? 

Tommy shifted in his place, a small mannerism he got from his older brother, Technoblade. Speaking of Technoblade, Tommy had to make sure the drug bust ended smoothly and quickly. He has to be home before his brother, or Prime herself will descend from the heavens. 

“You alright, Mr. Siren?”

Tommy asks, his voice still modulated to an androgynous robotic sound. Siren shakes his head and looks up, his eyes squinting. An indication he was smiling underneath his mask. 

“I’m fine, Big Man Innit. Now, let’s get working on those awkward potions.” 

“Where exactly will we do that? I’m just a vigilante, I ain’t got any fancy laboratory.”

Tommy says nervously.

“I know an old school here with a science laboratory. We’re just making awkward potions, so it won’t hurt them that much.”

Tommy found himself nodding and wordlessly following the hero. Somewhere inside him, the teenager could hear a small voice urging him to follow the man, to trust him without complaint. To say Tommy was terrified of the voice would be a smart observation. 

Strange enough, as complicated as the situation seems, Tommy believes the voice. He would worry about the Siren’s identity later. They were doing a drug bust, and Tommy would save a lot of potential victims of the drugs. 

Everything was good. Everything was fine. 

Everything was going as planned.

[The Camarvan, L’manburg]

Creating the potions was as easy as Siren said it would be. In less than two hours, the two were able to make at least fifty or more bottles of blue awkward potions. With a simple dash of glowing squid ink and orange food coloring, the potions were almost identical to the original drugs in Siren’s box. 

On their way to the Camarvan, Tommy and Siren discussed their ultimate game plan. Siren would start off with a small speech and urge the people to buy the drugs and once they were near the two’s location, Tommy would throw a smoke grenade. The duo would then attempt to knock out the higher officers in the event and tie the event-goers in a huge pile. 

After that, Siren would take the money already collected by the other sellers and go on his merry way, back to the SMP-002 and save his son. Tommy would call the heroes organization and give them the information regarding the drug bust. 

Now, Tommy was a bit conflicted with the last two parts, because it meant he was letting the Siren return to the SMP with the money the organization specifically asked for. It was like he was a pawn and playing in the villain’s hands. 

But Tommy thought of the way Siren had begged and shared his internal conflict. He thought of the way Siren talked about his child, a poor innocent babe used as blackmail for his father to come home. Tommy could let this pass for once. He would make an exception for Siren. But for the SMP? 

Big Man Innit set his mind to uncover their trail and hidden lair. He set his mind to free Siren and his child from that damned place. This is the first official long-term mission he set his mind to. And he couldn’t wait to get started. 

“-nd organization?”

Tommy tuned back into the conversation. A man dressed in a strange security guard attire with a black cloth mask and black-rimmed glasses was in front of them. His eyes shone in a low purple glow. Probably an enderman hybrid as well but closer to his ethnic genes. He had a small cupboard in his hands. The stun gun in his pocket didn’t go unnoticed as well. Tommy stiffened. Siren cleared his throat.

“Will. SMP-002.”

Tommy’s face scrunched up in amusement at the exaggerated accent Siren put in his voice. Will, huh? Basic bitch boy name. 

The security guard’s eyes widened. He hides his surprise with a cough and turns to Tommy.

“How about him?”

Tommy smirks.

“The name’s Theseus.”

He said in an accent like Siren/Will. Maybe it was nice to have a nickname that isn’t a variant of your name sometimes. The guard looked like he wanted to press more questions but Siren immediately interrupted. 

“H-He’s with me. SMP-002.”

That seemed to do the trick because the man quickly nods and ushers the two in. Tommy balances the box carefully in his hands. He felt butterflies in his stomach, his sense of fight or flight being subtly triggered as they entered the abandoned warehouse. Closed and tight spaces always bothered Tommy, he felt queasy when he wasn’t aware of a building’s passageways. Especially when he was in unknown territory. 

Tommy tried to observe their environment like Siren but his stomach doesn’t want to cooperate with him so he opts to hold the box closer to his chest instead. He could feel the liquid swivel inside as he focused his eyes on his partner’s moving feet. 

The lighting in the Camarvan wasn’t that dim, but it wasn’t that bright either. Ever-changing colors like in a party illuminated most of their path and Tommy shuffled closer to Siren. No, he wasn’t scared. He was Big Man Innit. He was just wary of the unusual drug den. No other reason.

“Do we have a booth?”

Tommy manages to let out after a few minutes of them walking around. Siren stops walking to answer him. 

“There weren’t any instructions…” He trails off and looks in the distance, “So, no. Probably just advertise and sell as much as we can.”

Tommy gives a shaky nod and fixes his posture. He feels his blood pressure drop. 

“On it.”

He couldn’t faint now. He couldn’t let down Siren and his child. He had to get his nerves under control and drink some water as soon as possible. Because he couldn’t do the latter, Tommy focused on getting his breathing even and clearing his head. Thank Prime it worked and Tommy wanted to jump in joy as his vision started clearing. He held his head high and tightened his grip on the box of potions. 

As the two approached the center stage, Tommy watched as Siren leaned into one of the members of the group speaking’s ear and whispered something. The group suddenly walked down from the stage and blended with the small crowd. Tommy frowns. He really didn’t understand the Siren’s power just yet. 

Siren carefully grabbed the microphone from the stand and breathed into it. For about two to three minutes, he just stood there, frozen and hunched over. Tommy gently set down the box at his feet and placed a hand on the hero’s shoulder, making said hero turn to him. If Siren was really who he was, then it means that he hasn’t done a mission in a very long time, and the trauma from the SMP got to him. Tommy stared at him encouragingly and gave the Siren a thumbs up for moral support. With his free hand, he grabs one vial from the box and shows it to the distressed adult. Tommy smiled as he felt Siren melt back into normal.

Siren turns his masked face towards the crowd.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and everyone in between! I come from the SMP-002, and what I have with me is more powerful than any potion in this building tonight. Behold, and focus your eyes on the love potion, Juliette!”

The Siren raised his left arm in a dramatic stance and that was Tommy’s cue to showcase the awkward potion.

A heavy silence slowly fell upon the sea of criminals and almost all of the once scattered attention spans now placed their eyes on the duo. Tommy felt his skin crawl but he didn’t once waver from his position. 

“This sweet elixir has long-lasting effects of infatuation, affection, and love, depending on how you use it. It can allow you to bend someone to your will, and basic logic will fall on deaf ears.”

The Siren gently pushes Tommy forward which startles the teen but he doesn’t show it. 

“You could use it as a mind-control tool, or as much as love potions go, you could use it on someone you love. So, please,”

Siren then carries the box Tommy settled down and brings it to the front. Big Man Innit watches in laser focus as the man opens the lid. He prepares the smoke grenade. 

“Be my guest, and buy these potions . ”

Chaos swept like a tsunami among the people and Tommy’s mouth was set in a hidden “O”. So that was what Siren’s power was. How could he be so dumb? Tommy gulped as people started flooding at the open area by his feet. 

“How much?”

“I have a hundred Manbergian coins! Is that enough?”

“I call first dibs!”

“No! The potion’s mine!”

Various shouts came from all corners of the warehouse and Tommy starts handing out the awkward potions. He stares at the Siren and waits for the signal to throw the grenade. But the Siren had stood still again, the mic long forgotten on the floor of the stage. Siren’s palms were wrapped around his throat. Although Tommy couldn’t figure out the adult’s expression, he could feel the shock and surprise from the man. Tommy paused in his actions and called out. 

“Will.”

It was like a hammer had been smashed against the ice sculpture that is Siren as he flinched visibly and turned towards Tommy. Shaking a bit he regained his composure and nodded. Tommy grinned behind the mask and pulled out the grenade from under his sash. A few guards who were in the crowd lost their attention on the potions and centered their eyes on the grenade Tommy held. 

“Look o-”

Tommy threw the grenade with all his might and hurriedly placed his goggles. Siren closed his eyes.

Red smoke filled every inch of the warehouse and screams of the people could be heard. 

As quick as he could, Tommy grabbed the real potions and Siren by hand and led them to the bathrooms. 

“Lock the doors, Will. I’ll be back.”

Tommy says to the Siren who rapidly nods and secures the box. 

After making sure the door was locked, the teen sighs and stretches. He was definitely gonna need an ice pack later. 

Tommy then walks into the frenzy of criminals. 

Figuring out who the higher-ups were was easy for Tommy as they were the most composed and less freaking out compared to the endless banshees of villains. The smoke was laced with infused pepper spray. Tommy was quite proud of his creation. 

“Hello, Sir. You do happen to know this whole event is illegal right?”

Tommy approaches a small circle of people that were organized compared to the others. Endermen security guards were lined up in a neat protection shield around a singular tall man who seemed to be the ringleader of the event. The man wore a neat green suit and a gas mask (Was that a turtle above his helmet?) and was unaffected by the havoc around him. He looks up to Tommy and tilts his head. 

“Well, yes, but I have to find a way to earn money.”

“By selling drugs?”

“Hey, I’m not the one being affected. I don’t even live in L’Manburg.”

“Eh, you’re still evil so I need to turn you in.”

“Little brat.”

Tommy suddenly kicked one of the guards in the crotch and headed straight towards the ringleader. Before he could issue out any orders, Tommy pulled out his own stun gun and pushed it against the ringleader’s head. Tommy slowly got in a position where he could trap the man but not get hit at the same time. It was tricky, but Tommy made it work. The guards stopped their advancements.

“Look, I don’t really want to hurt people so could you just fucking surrender.”

“But I-”

Tommy pressed the gun closer. 

“You said you don’t live in L’Manburg. This is my warning to never go here again. Go and skedaddle into another country, if you like. But spare my home.”

Tommy said in the most threatening voice a sixteen-year-old could muster. But the man just laughs aloud.

“You really think that a kid telling me to go is-”

The asshole, Tommy was going to call him that for the rest of the night, couldn’t finish what he was going to say as Tommy quickly shut him up with the stun gun. As soon as he was rendered unconscious, Tommy proceeded to bring out another grenade, but this time it was filled with water. 

The enderman guards around him hissed as he splashed the object on the ground, giving Tommy enough time to shoot all of them with a stun gun. 

All of them dropped to the floor and this time, Tommy focused on the still screaming criminals around him. He had a special grenade that would be perfect for controlling a crowd like this. It was another smoke grenade that could make someone sleep or knock someone out. Tommy winced. He really didn’t want to spend another ten hours making the formula again. Especially because he might use all of it and the ingredients for the formula were pretty hard to get.

But Tommy didn’t have to throw the object. Just as he was about to pull it out of his bag, Siren unlocked the doors to his makeshift safe place and shouted.

“SLEEP!”

The people around Tommy quickly dropped down one by one. The young man didn’t notice that the smoke he created earlier was completely gone, with only traces of it fading away. 

Behind his mask, Tommy’s mouth was gaping like a fish. 

Siren then walked towards Tommy, box in hand, and removed his mask. The adult smiled. 

“Saw what you were doing through the small glass panel.”

His voice was almost gone based on how hoarse he was. 

“Wanted to help.”

Tommy just nodded at his words, turning towards the unconscious ringleader and grabbing the man’s wallet from his pocket. He then handed Siren the wallet.

“Thanks. Your power is uhh… Pretty cool.”

Siren smiled again. 

“Haven’t used it in a long time. Took too much.”

The brunet put the wallet in his own bag and looked at the box in his hands. Tommy awkwardly scratched his head. 

“D-Do you want me to report that to the authorities too?”

Siren looked back at him.

“No. Yours now. Use for emergencies.”

He said, wincing in pain and holding his throat. Tommy looks at him sadly.

“Dude, you… You don’t have to speak anymore.” He brings out his phone and looks at the time, “It’s two in the morning already. I have to be home before four. You good to go?”

Siren nods, happy that Tommy was okay with him not speaking.

“Okay… Do you have anything I can call you or meet with you again next time?”

He wasn’t sure why he was asking for the hero’s number. He had just met him less than five hours ago. Tommy just felt something… different with Siren. It was like he knew him from before, but he couldn’t pinpoint where and when exactly. Siren just didn’t give off stranger vibes. Tommy felt oddly... safe with Siren. And he could actually say that he enjoyed their very short time together. 

Siren tilts his head at him and shakes his head. Before Tommy could reply, the man pulls out a communicator and writes something on the text icon. He shows it to Tommy. 

‘We could meet here at the Camarvan. At midnight. I’m not sure when I’ll be allowed out next time. But I’ll try my best.’

And that was enough for the blond. 

“Sure! I gotta call the hero agency now. See you soon, Will.”

Siren gave off a melancholic smile that Tommy didn’t understand. He didn’t understand a lot of things. 

‘See you soon, Theseus.’

And with that, the Siren left. 

[Tenth Precinct, L’Manburg]

Tommy popped some cream puffs that he kept in his pocket into his mouth and giggled as he lost the hero, Manifold, in his escape. He refuses to call the man anything other than “Jack” which was his first name, and “Whoppa guy” which was from accidental footage of the hero taken months ago. Tommy thought it was quite hilarious and made constant jokes that the hero volunteered to capture him because he was Big Man Innit’s number one fan. 

“Come back here brat!”

He giggled some more as the war cry of Mr. Whoppa Guy echoed throughout the buildings, waking up poor citizens in doing so. 

Tommy’s drug bust report earlier when better than expected. Different heroes quickly responded to the vigilante’s call and raided the place with box trucks that could fit all the villains and criminals in the area. It was the biggest arrest of the month and Tommy felt quite proud of his and Siren’s achievement. He never told the hero about Siren though, and instead blamed the event on the green suit man that orchestrated it all.

One of the better heroes who was interviewing Tommy never got to finish their interrogation because out of nowhere, and late as hell, Manifold came rushing at the teen in full speed and threatening to take him in. Tommy felt guilty of the sad and disappointed look on his interviewer’s face and made a note to find the hero during her off shift. The white-eyed hero in a dress could’ve been an Inniter. Such a shame, honestly. 

Tommy put down the hood that he wore again before the heroes arrived. The young teen stretched and pulled out his phone to look at the time. 

3:24 am.

Right on time. 

Just as Tommy was about to exit the alley he hid in, he heard a familiar voice. 

“I have it. Let’s just go back.”

Tommy’s ears perked up at the broken and barely audible sound that could only be his good friend and partner from earlier, Siren. Had he not gone back to the SMP yet?

The teen took a risk and stepped closer to the scene.

There stood a black car that could fit about four to six people and on its left stood Siren and an odd guy with wings and a blue beanie. Siren had his hand out and in it was cash, probably taken from the wallet the green suit guy owned. Tommy watched as the shorter fellow took the cash and began counting it. 

“Looks good, Wil. See? If you’re obedient, no one gets hurt.”

Tommy’s breath hitched. The SMP?

He saw the Siren nod and gasped quietly as dark obsidian chains were placed over the adult’s wrists. So he wasn’t lying. He really was a prisoner of the SMP. Tommy gritted his teeth as Siren was pushed into the car by the guy in a beanie. He had to follow them. 

As the car drove off, Tommy began opening his rope propellers and sought after the vehicle stealthily, not too close and also not too far behind. To his surprise, the car entered an abandoned tunnel that was destroyed during the Tragedy of the Sixteenth. People said that the place was haunted and would probably collapse any day now. No one had ever assumed it was an evil lair for villains. 

Tommy carefully made his way inside. The tunnel was dark enough for the car to not see him but bright enough for him to be able to follow the hindlights. The group headed downwards and Tommy began to feel uneasy again because of the small space. Suddenly, the car stopped. Tommy hid in the darkness.

His eyes were sharp and focused as he watched Siren, the Beanie guy, and another person walk out of the car which Tommy could see was parked with other odd vehicles with metal and obsidian cages. He gulped nervously. He was in a deadly organization’s lair. He was currently powerless. If he died here, his body would never leave this place. But he was Big Man Innit, and he was brave and poggers. Tommy followed the group closely. 

They ended up in a bigger tunnel. At the end of it were two tall doors guarded by a Creeper hybrid, at least from Tommy’s assumptions. He couldn’t hear what they talked about because none of the people said a word. The watchman just looked at the three, nodded, opened the door, and immediately closed it after. Everything went so fast and Tommy had accidentally slipped out of his hiding spot.

“Hey! Who goes there?”

The watchman called, walking to where Tommy was. 

The said teen froze.

“H-Hello there, kind sir. I’m Big Man Innit and I-” Tommy started nervously.

The guard stopped in his tracks and pulled down his mask.

“Tommy?”

The boy flinched at his name.

Holy shit. Holy Prime, this guy knows who I am!

He tried to get his panic under control. 

“Tommy? I don’t know any Tommy. Cool name though. He sounds like a nice guy.”

The hybrid started walking towards the vigilante again. 

“Tommy, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to head home by now.”

“I really don’t know this Tommy guy- Sam?”

In a closer angle, Tommy could see the facial features of the watchman clearly. And he unmistakably had the facial features of Tommy’s old tutor. Technoblade told him Sam had migrated to another country to pursue his redstone degree. He did NOT tell Tommy that his beloved teacher was working as a guard of an evil villain organization.

“You shouldn’t be here, Toms. Go home.”

“B-But how… Techno said-”

“I know what Technoblade said. But that doesn’t matter. Go home Tommy.”

“I came here to save… Sam, why are you in the SMP’s lair?”

Sam took a step back and put on his gas mask. 

“That’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is my business! This is some fucked up shit-”

A loud thud echoed through the walls as the hybrid put his trident between them. 

“This is my last warning, Theseus. Go. Home.”

Tommy's eyes were wide at the trident. Just a few more inches and the weapon could’ve pierced his feet. He looked up at Sam shakily and stepped back. 

“I-I’m going to come back, Sam. Whether you like it or not.”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh.

“Tommy-”

But the vigilante was already running away. 

[Bedrock Bros’ Cafe]

By the time Tommy crawled into the window that led to his and Ranboo’s shared room, he was dizzy and almost out of breath. He couldn’t stand up properly and black spots had made his vision blurry. He croaked for water and immediately felt the shuffling of feet. A hand on his back, giving him small circular strokes and a voice was telling Tommy to breathe. 

The close-to-fainting lad tried his best to keep his eyes open but it was an arduous task. Despite the ringing in his ears, he felt hands on his body and soon enough, the soft mattress of his bed. Tommy made a mental sigh of relief as he felt the blood in his body slowly travel back to his head, making him aware of his surroundings. 

A glass of water was offered beside him and Tommy took it greedily but making sure to sit up slowly. The same hands who offered him the drink took the glass away gently. That was when Tommy’s vision cleared and the ringing in his ears fading away. He looked around. 

He was in his room and sitting comfortably on his bed. On the floor lay his hooded cloak, goggles, mask, tools and weapons, and boots. It was about four am, based on the still dim but not dark light that crept through the windows. To his right, kneeling on the floor and holding an empty glass, was a worried Ranboo. And to his left, giving relaxing and comforting strokes on his back was…

“Tubbo?”

Tommy croaked out, too weak to be shocked and react with more emotion. 

The brunet nodded and assisted Tommy in lying down again.

“Right, bossman. I came over for a sleepover, remember?”

The blond recounted the night before and mentally cursed. That was why he had to leave later than usual because he had to wait for the ram hybrid to fall asleep. 

“How… How are you awake?”

Tubbo rolls his eyes.

“You made quite a dramatic entrance.”

Tommy gave out a small laugh and Tubbo and Ranboo smiled.

“Glad you’re back, man. Let’s talk about…” Tubbo’s eyes fell on the vigilante gear on the floor, “Whatever this is in the morning. Or when you wake up. For now, you have to rest. You don’t have to sleep right away because that just lowers your pressure more, but just.. Relax for a while and let it come naturally.”

The tired teen nods and just lies on the bed. Tubbo gently gets off the bed to give more space for Tommy and not increase the temperature around the boy with his own body heat. Ranboo just continues to watch Tommy, eyes not leaving their position on his face. 

Soon enough, after about ten to thirty minutes, Tommy falls asleep. 

Chapter Text

Technoblade didn’t need sleep. He needed answers.

The encounter with Philza a few days ago should have eased his nerves. Instead, it left chat in complete mayhem. All of them kept pestering him about “saving” Mr. Minecraft. About a tunnel. About how the plot was progressing. For the first time in years, the voice “Comment was deleted by moderator” finally reappeared. 

Technoblade didn’t know what to feel about it. 

“So? So? What’s my score, Big T?”

Techno looked up from the paper in his hands and reminded himself of what was happening in the present. He was checking Tommy and Ranboo’s history test about the first L’Manburg Revolution. Ranboo had almost half of it right, but Techno could turn a blind eye because of the tall hybrid’s memory problems. Tommy on the other hand…

“You only got 25%, Tommy.”

Across the table, Tommy gave him a confused look.

“That’s… good, right?”

“That’s twenty-five out of a hundred.”

Tommy sputtered and began ranting.

“Well, it’s not MY fault you made the test so long! I don’t even like history!”

“You aced the past tests about the same topic. This was just a review. Is something bothering you?”

“I didn’t feel like being smart today!”

The tutor’s left eye twitched. Of course, that was his reason. 

“You know why I do this, Tommy.”

The blond in focus huffs and crosses his arms.

“Actually, I don’t!”

“It’s one of the things your father asked me to do before he left.”

The whole room turned silent. Tommy looked away angrily and Techno immediately regretted his words. It wasn’t Tommy’s fault that Phil placed him in the pinkett's care. Tommy is a victim too. Teaching the child was the least thing Techno could do in the situation he was compromised in. 

“Just… Study harder next time. The details of the first revolution are relatively easy. Your favorite founding father is in it as well. I’m gonna let you retake the test next week. Is that okay, Theseus?”

Technoblade internally sighed in relief when the teen nodded in reply. He noticed the dark circles beneath the boy’s eyes and frowned. Was he not getting enough sleep? Is that why he wasn’t as focused today compared to the other days? Children are strange. The blood god chooses to ignore whatever teen mayhem was happening in Tommy’s life. Like Wilbur, he would get over this phase.

Techno makes a mental note to send the boys earlier to bed that night.

“Well, I think we’re done here. Let’s go open up the cafe. Ranboo, you’re on waiter duty. Tommy, you’re my assistant and the cashier for today.”

The blond’s eyes sparkled. The hybrid let out a small smile.

The corners of Technoblade’s mouth threatened to quirk up. 

[Bedrock Bros’ Cafe]

After making sure that the trio was safely asleep in their bedroom, Techno moved to prepare his nightly duty in hesitance. Despite acting otherwise to the children, he was glad that Tubbo came over for a surprise sleepover. That meant Tommy and Ranboo would be distracted and not alone for the rest of the night. 

He trusted the two and their ability to defend themselves against intruders since he taught them basic self-defense himself, but he couldn’t help worrying about their safety. Having another head in the area, especially one that was training to become a hero, was incredibly helpful in relieving the anxiety that the vigilante held. It also helped him focus on other problems.

Like what the hell happened to Philza Minecraft. 

Technoblade wanted to investigate where his friend had gone. And the last place Phil told him he had been was with his hero associates. The vigilante dreaded this. He didn’t even like heroes. 

Compared to Tommy, the man’s moral compass and values were a bit skewed. 

Yes, Technoblade Bedrock believed in justice, and the good nature of people, but his trust was very difficult to earn, and his beliefs were firm and not negotiable. In his eyes, titles such as “hero” and “villain” didn’t matter. Heroes weren’t as pure and kind as the news had painted them to be. And not all villains directly chose to cause chaos. He judged both of them equally, and if either did the wrong thing, Techno wouldn’t give the hero more consideration compared to the villain. 

However, when it came to his own survival, the blood god wouldn’t hesitate to throw people under the bus. He wouldn’t hesitate to abandon his morals. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill. He wouldn’t hesitate to use others. 

Others would call him selfish, but Technoblade would do everything and anything to live... 

With the exception of a few individuals.

His social circle was small, and all of the current relationships he had were built over long years and extreme effort. He refused to let people in his life for a long time, keeping up an emotionless face when dealing with society. The man grew up in an unstable environment, with unstable peers. He had every right to hide anything that could tie him down. Anything that could count as a weakness. 

That was until a strange white winged man with a different accent from Techno’s arrived. 

And from then on, more and more people let themselves in the pinkett’s life. And he couldn’t do anything to stop them. Only accept what has come, and vow to protect them till the day he takes his last breath. 

In total, there were seven people Techno held dear and close to his soul. Two of them, forever free doves in the sky, but still remained precious in the vigilante’s memory. 

There was the sweet Niki. A ferocious yet kind woman who kept Techno grounded and aware of his limitations and abilities. Who gave him companionship whenever he needed a moment of peace. 

There were the two doves, the starry-eyed Wilbur and the gentle Kristin. They had willingly accepted and invited him into their small family of four. They had made Techno feel the warmth of having brother and mother, even for a short while. 

Even in death, the thought of them made Techno smile. 

There was Tubbo and Ranboo. The unlikely pair who wedged their way into the vigilante’s enclosed heart. They kept Techno young, and reminded him of the innocence and purity he had to protect. 

There was Tommy. His sunshine boy, Tommy. The chaotic Tommy, who never let his sickly nature dim the bright energy he gave off. Tommy gave Techno the urge, the motivation to go on. 

Tommy reminded Techno of what he was fighting for. 

And there was Phil. To the world, he was Philza Minecraft, the tragic hero “Angel” who became the “Angel of Death”. But to Technoblade, he was Phil, his main man, his platonic soulmate, his best friend. If Tommy gave him a burning passion to fight, Phil was the one who gave Techno a reason to breathe. A reason to wake up. A reason to stay. 

Philza reminded Techno of what he was living for. 

Which is why the vigilante needs to sort out Phil’s whereabouts. 

Strapping in the last piece of his netherite shoulder plates, Technoblade puts on his blood red cloak and heads out of his room. He could hear silence next door. Good, they were asleep. The blood god smiles and sneakily descends the stairs. Going through the back door once more, the vigilante sets off to search for heroes. 

But first, as always, he must tell Nihachu. 

[Niki’s Bakery]

“Are you sure about this?”

Niki regarded him with worried eyes, her hand above her communicator.

“Yes. Chat might be annoying and odd but they’re a reliable source.”

Technoblade replied with sincerity. Chat went wild with his answer. 

“Okay. Jack Manifold, right? The hero “Manifold”? The one from that embarrassing video played in  the capital a few months ago?”

Techno shrugged, leaning in to inspect some pastries. There was a new batch of vanilla cream puffs and honey cakes. And… A chorus fruit infused loaf of bread? Techno will definitely come back later to pick up the treats for breakfast. 

“I don’t particularly care who he is but Phil mentioned a “Jack Manifold”. So I’m guessing that’s him.”

Niki nodded and pressed something on her communicator.

After a few seconds, a loud Ping! came from the small device.

Niki opened it and pressed a few more buttons. 

“He says he’s okay with meeting you. He’s also on patrol right now so you might catch him in…”

Niki squints her eyes.

“The fifth precinct.”

“No surprise ambush or whatever?”

“Manifold isn’t interested in other vigilantes. He’s only after Big Man Innit.”

Technoblade cringes at the name.

“Who gave them that name?”

“The vigilante themself.”

“What are they? Ten?”

Niki puts her communicator away.

“Not sure. No one knows. They’re the most frustrating vigilante I have ever faced. I don’t know anything about them apart from their name and that they keep the peace in the lower precincts.”

Technoblade frowns at this.

“Why is Manifold after them, then?”

“They were the one who put the video up.”

“Oh.”

The clock struck twelve.

“I should get going.”

“Mhmm. See ya, Techno. Shall I prepare the pastries for pick up?”

The two pink-haired individuals gave knowing smiles to each other.

“Yep. Bye Nihachu.”

“Goodbye, Blade.”

Technoblade began his journey to the fifth precinct.

[Fifth Precinct, L’Manburg]

Manifold was an odd fellow.

His hero costume was… unique, if Techno had to put it kindly.

The hero wore a striped cobalt blue hoodie and a pair of camouflage cargo pants. He also had black combat boots with fireballs at the straps. The man also wore various accessories such as red and blue lenses for glasses and a huge headset with a microphone attached to it. 

They were all ordinary clothing. But what made the costume concerning and mildly concerning was that it didn’t burn despite the obvious and bright flames that could be seen all over the visible parts of Manifold’s body. 

Jack gave Techno a wide grin and held out a gloved hand. 

Prime, even his teeth looked like golden nuggets that could only be found in the Nether, Techno’s hometown. 

“Blood God! Pleasure to meet you at last! I’m a big fan.”

Techno squinted his red eyes and huffed.

“Aren’t you supposed to arrest me?”

Manifold laughed, the fiery ends of his hair flickering in unison. He put his hand down. Techno stayed as far from the lad as possible.

“Nah. Don’t have anything against you. I like vigilantes. Cool lads but just not in the right place. Big Piss Innit on the other hand…” 

His eyes glowed through the glasses.

“... Let’s just say that fucker won’t know what’ll come to them when I finally capture them.”

Whoever this Big Man Innit was, Techno offered a small prayer of support. They were gonna need it.

“So,” Jack started, turning his attention to the pinkett, “You’re here about the Angel?”

Techno nods. 

“I heard he got his info from you.”

Jack smiles to himself.

“He did. He did.”

“I need that information too.”

The blazeborn frowns at him.

“I don’t remember owing you anything. And why do you need it?”

“Because something happened to the Angel. And I need to help him.”

Manifold’s frown intensified.

“I would give you the information. But for the right price.”

At this, Technoblade internally groans. It’s always for something. He’s used to how the world works by now.

“What price?”

Techno feels like he knows what is coming.

“Help me capture Big Piss Innit.”

Techno snorts.

“I don’t want to waste my time with that. And they’re a vigilante too, what makes them different from me?”

Jack started pacing on the edge of the roof.

“Well, for starters, you didn’t ruin my reputation.”

Techno felt the urge to roll his eyes. Heroes and their egos. So who cares if a humiliating video of you goes around? You’re not dying. Embarrassed probably, but not dead. Plus, the people’s interests fade over time. What’s the big deal with that?

“I don’t understand why you want to get them so bad. I-”

Jack turns to him and Techno stops talking. 

“I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to help. And I promise, I’ll serve that information on a silver platter.”

Techno sighs. 

“Fine.”

“Good. They’re mostly seen in the lower precincts so if we hurry there-”

Something beeped in the hero’s pocket. Techno watched with amusement as Jack fumbled to get his communicator out. When he finally succeeds, a static voice comes from the other line. 

“Jack! Drug Bust in the Tenth Precinct!”

The hero groans and fixes the device in his hands to a more proper position.

“I’m in the Fifth right now. Don’t really feel like going down right now. You know I hate those areas. They su-”

“It was Big Man Innit who made the call. They’re alone.”

That got Manifold’s attention. Even Technoblade seemed interested. A low profile vigilante performing a drug bust? And on their own? Mad props to them. 

“You serious? This is not a prank, right?”

“Nope. Go, now.”

“Cool cool. I’ll be right there.”

The hero puts the communicator back in his pocket. Technoblade hates the look he gives the pinkett. 

“Well, this is your chance.”

“Yeah, right.”

He replied in a monotone voice. Jack only nods and begins running towards the tenth precinct. It was a few miles south but heroes were trained to run fast and efficiently. Technoblade watches him go. He really doesn’t want to help in capturing a maybe innocent vigilante who he didn’t even know. But for Philza… 

Technoblade closes his eyes and uses his power to concentrate on summoning a certain weapon. Once he feels the handle in his hands and the blood in his veins ripple with familiar energy, the vigilante faces south. He begins pouring force into his hand and into the weapon, preparing its launch. Within a blink, he was flying forward, his beloved trident making him surge at full speed. Techno smiles behind his mask when he sees Jack’s surprised expression. 

Technobird

Trident pog

Why are we heading to a drug bust again?

To steal drugs, duh

That is not what a drug bust is

We’re also a good guy, remember

Good guy, Bad guy eh idk

We’re doin this for Philza

Dadza

I miss him

Will there be blood at the drug bust?

We’re already using blood rn

This doesn’t count.

I want chips

“Shut up, Chat.”

[Tenth Precinct, L’Manburg]

The trip to the drug bust was quicker than Technoblade had expected. Less than two hours. There weren’t any heroes on the scene yet. Techno sat at the edge of the roof of a building across what seemed to be the drug den, the Camarvan. Things would go quicker if he captured Big Man Innit first before Jack arrived. 

But just as Techno could attempt to enter the abandoned warehouse, a person walked out of it, looking around fearfully. Techno was intrigued and almost forgot about Big Man Innit entirely. Distraction was, sadly, one of his top liabilities. 

He jumps down the building and walks in the strange man’s direction. He followed them in an alley. The two walked for a while. They were reaching an area Technoblade had not explored. The alley was dark and abandoned. A strong smell of urine and rotten garbage filled Techno’s sensitive nostrils. He tried keeping his dinner down and continued trailing after the man.

They had a sort of familiar yet not aura around them. Techno knows he hadn’t seen this person at any point in his life. He had perfect memory, and could easily remember long term memories compared to shorter term ones. This person wore a brown, filthy trench coat and a dirty red beanie. They were limping in their step a bit, as if they hadn’t walked long distances for a very long time. Was this a druggie who escaped from the Camarvan? No… Just who-

“ Stop moving .”

Techno froze unwillingly. Ah, so the stranger had noticed his presence.

“I don’t really want to deal with you right now.”

They said in a hoarse voice, still not turning around. 

“But seeing your petty attempt at stealth, I bet you’re a hero. Big Man Innit doesn’t need a hero sneaking up on him. So I’ll help with what I can.”

Techno couldn’t even open his mouth to speak. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll wear off by dawn. Just enough time.”

The man finally turned and Techno widened his eyes behind the mask.

This… This had to be a joke.

But it wasn’t. And Technoblade could feel it in his core.

Siren was here.

Breathing. 

Grinning.

Alive.

HEHHHHHHH????

“Goodbye, hero. I hope we meet on better terms.”

Technoblade wanted to scream, but the man- No - Wilbur ’s power stopped him in doing so. 

No, no, no. 

He was dead. 

He had to be dead. 

Technoblade’s denial was overpowered by the voices. 

But there wasn’t a body. 

Yeah

Twin duo reunited

Brothers pog

Techno had never wanted for Chat to shut up more than ever as he watched the retreating body of a person he grieved for a decade, a familiar symbol etched into his right wrist. The pinkett didn’t care at the moment. 

His mind was a mess. 

The fact that he couldn’t do anything added to his frustration. He wanted to yell at Wilbur to come back. He wanted to go and tell Phil right away. 

But he couldn’t. 

He was immobilized. Paralyzed.

Wilbur hadn’t recognized him. 

From above the alley, he could hear the heroes start to arrive, along with the loud sound of police sirens. 

Everything was happening so fast. Everything was too confusing.

FUCK. 

[Bedrock Bros’ Cafe]

Technoblade stared numbly at the potato pancakes in front of him. 

Fortunately, what Wilbur said was correct, and Techno had freed from his state of immobilization. He wanted to chase after Wilbur, to follow his trail, but the sun was rising and he had children to feed. Had a cafe to look after. 

So, hesitantly, he ran back to the eighth precinct in frustration. There was a bag of pastries hung on the knob of the cafe’s back door, and Techno felt guiltier at the sight of it. Oh, Prime, Niki. Could he tell her? Does he have the guts to? Is he even sure that it was Wilbur? What if it was just a trick of the light. However...

...Chat told him otherwise. And although Chat jokes with him, Chat never lies about something so serious. 

What can he gauge from that? Obviously, it’s a very important thing. He was smart. He knows how to deal with problems like this. He’s just recovering from shock. But does he really? Can he really come to terms with this revelation on his own?

Life was a blur, at the moment. 

“Mornin, Big T.”

Technoblade flinches as he looks into the bright blue eyes of the still-sleepy Tommy. In hindsight, Techno should’ve questioned how on Prime the teen was sleepy. He had sent them to bed earlier than usual. 

But all the vigilante could think about was telling Tommy that his real older brother, who he presumed to be dead, is alive. Techno was panicking. He needed someone to talk to before he exploded.

The only person he could think of that was going to take the news greatly was Philza. 

But, oh, Philza.

Philza was missing.

That was the original goal before everything went to shit. He wanted to look for Phil. He had sought to save the bird man. 

He failed. 

With his failure, came an unexpected discovery.

Tommy’s appearance reminded Technoblade too much of Philza. He felt like throwing up again.

“Mornin, Theseus. You look like shit.”

The pinkett manages to let out. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

“Everyone looks like shit in the morning, Techno. I’m not special. Well, I am but you get what I mean.”

Technoblade tunes out of the conversation as Tommy sits down next to Ranboo and Tubbo. His eyes fall back to his pancakes as Tommy begins eating his own breakfast.

Across the vigilante, a group of friends try their best to have a casual conversation. One had their eyes droopy and wanted to go back to sleep. The other was nervous and sat at the edge of their seat. The last one looked like he had a lot of questions for the first, but bit back his tongue and suffered in patience. 

Technoblade didn’t notice the odd atmosphere between the trio. He didn’t notice the way Tommy’s face had clouded with exhaustion. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts. 

For both sides of the table, time felt like a ticking bomb. 

And Technoblade was determined to put it out before it was too late.

In a cell underground, a father meets the ghost of his son. 

Technoblade Character Design Sheet here

Wilbur Character Design Sheet here

Chapter Text

Phil is awoken by a pair of small, yet determined hands. 

“Phil! Phil! Wake up! They said Papa’s here! He came back!”

A hit of nausea hit the blond man as he struggled to move from his uncomfortable position on the rough obsidian floor. Where was he again? Oh, right. In a cell in the SMP-002. In a cell with a child. 

“Oh, come on Phil! You need to wake up faster!”

The villain could only muster up a small smile as he blinked his eyes repeatedly and took in Fundy’s grinning face. His heart ached at the toothy smile the young lad offered. Philza wanted to look away. The boy’s face reminded him too much of his eldest son. A son whose death was caused by the very organization he was currently trapped in. 

Anger coursed through Philza’s veins and he felt his mind become clearer. With a small grunt, he stood up and let Fundy take his hand and drag him to the door of the prison, which could now be seen and not blocked away by molten lava. Familiar guards greeted Philza and Fundy as they got out, the green bastard missing from their ranks. Philza smirked at this. 

The one with the white band glared at Phil furiously and almost made an attempt to move forward, if not for the retro glasses guy stopping him. Phil tightened his grip on Fundy. He couldn’t make a move now, not in front of these clearly capable guards in full netherite armor. He needed to be smart about his decisions. They were going to see Fundy’s father, right? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to meet the man who owned such a bubbly boy. He might even help Phil gain more information about the SMP-002. 

Phil nodded to himself. Yes, he had to play his cards right. 

And that he did. Even if he didn’t know what game he was playing. He let the guards lead him and Fundy across a long hall full of doors that led to more lava-encased cells. He hid his gag as he was led through thousands of cages that varied in size and shape, all made to fit the creatures inside them. There was shouting. There was screaming. There was crying. There was wailing. Phil could feel Fundy tense and inch closer towards him and the villain wanted to whisk the poor child away from all the chaos. Alas, he could not.

Philza could only follow the man with horns stationed in front of him as he walked out of the horrid cells and cages, and into a narrower, deeper hallway that looked like the inside of a hospital. With the narrow path, Phil could hear the breathing of the boy beside him and his own. Phil was never one for tight spaces. But he had to comply. He felt too weak and dehydrated to fight the guards anyway. 

The silence was becoming more and more painful as they walked further down the hall. Phil focused on the hand he was holding and noticed how Fundy was starting to wince with every step he took. Swiftly, Philza gathered the kid in his arms. No word of protest came out of the child’s mouth. The guards didn’t seem to mind. They didn’t even spare a glance.

The avian had walked these halls before. In a different time, in a different location, but all too similar. The long trail meant bad things at the end of it. Organization hideouts and meetings. Torture chambers and laboratories. None of it brought happy memories to Phil, quite the opposite actually. He could feel his whole body shiver as they walked closer and closer to the last doors that connected them to a different part of the SMP-002. 

Phil stared at the walls and flashes of the surfaces being covered in blood and TnT appeared in his mind. He quickly turned his face away. As if sensing his trauma, Fundy snuggled closer to his chest, burying his tiny head in the crook of Phil’s shoulder. The man could smell the faint scent of baby shampoo mixed with fire, which was concerning, but it calmed him down. While avoiding looking at the surrounding walls, Phil thought to observe his captors instead.

The man in front of him, Ba-Halo if he remembered correctly, walked confidently and was taller than Phil by at least a few inches. He was also the tallest one in the room and seemed to be a Blazeborn hybrid. His tail was alert and swishing behind him and even if his back faced Phil, the man seemed to be looking at the villain directly. 

On his left was a person who he had never seen before. This was the person who replaced the smiley face bastard. Compared to the others, the guard didn’t wear a mask, so their face could be visibly seen. They were a feline hybrid like Fundy, except they seemed to have Siamese genes in their blood. As it is with felines and feline hybrids, distinguishing between genders is difficult, so Phil refused to refer to the guard as such until he was sure of their identity. 

On his right was the same glasses guard from before, except this time, he was wearing an oddly shaped red and white hat. It looked like a mushroom. The idea was silly to Phil but he kept his thoughts to himself.

The last one, the one behind him, was the most expressive out of the four despite having a black mask cover his mouth. Phil was sure this one was a Blazeborn hybrid as well because of the obvious flames flickering in and out of their skin. Phil could also feel the heat from behind him and knows without a doubt that the guard’s anger was directed towards him. Phil flinched.

“How much longer till we see Papa, Mr. Bad?”

Philza was startled with the sudden question from the child in his arms. He then stared at the hybrid in front of him who had turned his entire head a 180 degrees to look at Fundy. His plain white eyes and shadow-like face creeped the avian out.

Bad let out his sharp teeth and smiled. 

“Almost there, Fundy. We just had to prepare him first.”

Fundy didn’t seem bothered by this. He clapped and looked and shifted to look at Philza.

“You hear that, Phil? Papa is close!”

Philza let out a small chuckle, watching Bad’s head go back to normal. 

“Yeah… Yeah… I’m pretty excited.”

Beside him, the mushroom man laughed.

“Oh you will be.”

Philza didn’t know what to make out of that. 

The six of them walked for another three minutes, excluding Fundy (for the boy was joyously perched on a certain bird man’s arms) until they finally reached twin metal doors guarded by a pair of guards that were forgotten as quickly as they were introduced. Bad had shown a single card to one of the guards, and the other immediately pressed a button that opened the heavy doors with ease. 

[Meeting Room, SMP-002]

Philza closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again and taking in the exact replica of the cause of his nightmares. All of the furniture and equipment were placed on the same spot they were ten years ago. The paint on the wall… The tiles on the floor… Everything made Philza’s mind swirl and allowed bile to slowly rise up his throat. In the distance, Phil heard a slightly muted guttural scream. A scream of pain. A scream so familiar. Philza felt an intense ringing in his ears. 

He tried to focus his eyes on Fundy once more and found the boy’s ears twitching repeatedly. Phil frowned at this and carefully set the kid down, his own traumatic response momentarily forgotten. Fundy was staring at the sound of the noise and was frowning. Bad and the other guards then lead them into a room, one Phil remembers to be a meeting room, and makes them sit on the chairs surrounding a large oval table. 

At first, Phil hesitates. He wanted to get out of this place as much as possible. But if he ran, Fundy would be alone. And despite Fundy being friendly with Bad, he didn’t trust any of the guards. They are still his captors, after all. He needs to be here for Fundy. To protect him. And to maybe talk to his father about some things. 

Philza observed Fundy’s ears twitch again as the two sat next to each other. Bad and the guards were near the room entrance, probably making sure Phil won’t try and run away again. Phil wanted to roll his eyes, but he turned to the young kit instead. 

“Do you hear something, Fundy?”

Fundy raised his head to him, mouth still wide open and smiling. Behind him, a fluffy tail was swishing back and forth.

“I think Papa is almost done!”

Phil has so many questions, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the innocent babe. 

“Hmm, and how do you know that, sweetpea?”

“Because I can hear him! And uhh…”

Both furry ears perk up.

“He’s heading this way!”

Before Phil could react, Fundy springed out of his seat and ran to the door, giggling wildly and jumping up and down. The avian thought he saw a brief smile flash from the guards’ face, but it might have just been his imagination. Besides, all attention he had on the guards went away like lightning when Fundy’s “Papa” finally walked through the door. 

No…

What?...

It..

“It can’t be…”

Phil whispered into the air. Whether it was for himself or for the people watching, he couldn’t bring himself to think.

He couldn’t breathe.

His mind was a blank slate.

His mouth grew dry.

His skin became a map of goosebumps.

His eyes were wider than saucers.

The ringing in his ears grew louder and louder. The only thing that broke through was the excited squeal that came from the loud child greeting Phil’s greatest regret. 

“Papa! Papa! You’re here!”

Fundy jumped in Wilbur’s arms. 

Phil let out a small, painful gulp and stared. 

His Wilbur. His son. Alive. 

It was unbelievable.

It was a miracle.

Then Wilbur giggled, and Phil could feel his chest being squeezed hard.

Oh, how he missed that sound.

“Hello, my little champion. Sadly, your Papa is tired today. He can come back later, yeah?”

If Fundy was sad, he didn’t show it. His smile only grew wider.

“Okay, Ghost Papa! Tell Papa Fundy understands. And that I missed him!”

Wil- no, Ghostbur only smiled and nodded.

“Of course, Fundy. He missed you too.”

The man with the pure black corneas responded, booping Fundy’s nose.

This… This wasn’t his Wilbur.

Just who was this impostor?!

“Did Papa go to a candy shop, Ghost Papa? Did he eat ice cream? Oh, tell me, tell me what the outside was like!”

Fundy jumped up and down again, shaking his hands and twirling around. 

The man with the same brown messy hair as Phil’s little songbird laughed with mirth. 

“I think that will be your Papa’s story to tell.”

Fundy whined, and then sighed sadly.

“Okay. Promise he’ll tell me when he comes back?”

“I promise.”

“Let’s seal it!”

The kit held out his pinky finger. Philza felt sick when his son’s ghost let out a bandaged hand, with blood seeping through some parts, and held out his pinky for Fundy. Oddly and alarmingly enough, the child didn’t seem to notice or even mind when the red fluid got on his skin. He merely wiped it on his pants and jumped up and down again. 

Philza still couldn’t move from his position.

Impending dread bloomed in the avian’s chest when Fundy sharply turned to him and pointed to his direction. 

“Ghost Papa, I made a new friend when you went outside! His name is Phil. He has a strange mask. And wings. But he carried me here ‘coz my feet hurt. He’s a good guy!”

Then the man looked his way. 

Philza’s world stopped. 

Both sides of his brain kept telling him to run, run, run. Run away.

And yet, Phil’s heart yelled the opposite. It told him to stay, stay, stay. Stay with him. 

Wilbur, oh, his oh so beautiful Wilbur. 

All the same, yet so different.

Nose, crooked a bit to the side as if it didn’t heal properly when it was broken before.

Cheeks, so hollow that made Philza’s father instincts go haywire and ache.

Mouth, smiling in an oh so familiar length and width that was just right and made his handsomeness shine through.

Messy, tousled, brunet locks that never cooperated with a brush. 

Downwards arched eyebrows that never changed, giving him the instant sad look whenever he wasn’t beaming. 

And eyes…

Eyes, so dark and so fully black as they stared into the father’s soul.

The smile quickly wiped off the ghost’s face. 

“You…”

“Did you even bother to find my body, Dad? To give me a proper burial?”

The ghost closed his eyes. 

When he opened them again, they were the earthly brown that Phil vividly sees in his dreams. 

“Why are you here?”

Cold. Phil felt cold.

“You abandoned us.”

Phil’s knees lost their strength, and he fell to the floor. His own gaze still directed on the supposedly blown-up corpse in front of him. 

He opened his mouth.

And closed it again.

He couldn’t find the words.

Couldn’t grasp them out of his brain.

“You’re not real!”, he yearned to yell.

The denial was thick in his mouth.

“This is fucking bullshit!”, he wanted to scream.

The painful cry burned in his throat.

“I’ll just close my eyes and you’ll just disappear, right?”, he wanted to ask.

The confusing question hung on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m sorry”, he wanted to say.

The crushing apology remained in his consciousness. 

“W-Wil.. Wilbur...I-”

“Well, this is such a wonderful family reunion!”

Phil turned sharply to his right, what left of his feathers puffing up startlingly. 

There, sitting on a leaned back black leather chair, with his feet on the conference table, and eyes ever so glinting with disgusting amusement, was the bane of Philza’s existence. The cause of his downfall. The spearhead of his tortures. Jason Tobias Schlatt IX. A fucking piece of shit. 

Phil lunged.

An echoing sound of a fist breaking a nose was heard throughout the room.

There was a loud groan. 

A metal rod hit the back of Phil’s head.

The avian crumpled to the ground, blacking out once more.

His last view was that of his own son refusing to look at him. 

[Vault 016, SMP-002]

Phil wakes up with his head aching and ringing in his ears. There were no small and determined hands this time, just the rough obsidian floor. He was sure he had a small cut by his chin as he slowly sat up. 

How many times has he passed out now? Three? Four? Philza wasn’t sure. Wilbur would have made another joke about how old he was… Wait…Wil

“-bur!”

Philza shot up, instantly regretting his actions as the entire world spinned around him. The villain stumbled and harshly leaned against the non-lava wall, closing his eyes tightly while muttering curses. Amidst the pain, Phil tried focusing on the smooth metal that now encased his two hands. His right knuckles were bruised and the avian grinned smugly as he remembered why. 

As quickly as the smile came, it faded instantly as a more pressing matter presented itself in Philza’s mind. 

Wilbur is alive.

His son is…

Phil shook his head.

No, he must be an imposter. Phil knew the truth. He saw the explosion. No human could have survived that. Phil had grieved. Phil had mourned. Wilbur Minecraft is dead. He was sure of this, so why…

Why does he want to see his son’s imposter again?

Maybe it’s the delusions from the pain. Yeah, that must be it. The pain was feeding his mind with false desires and clouding his thinking. His mission was to get out of here. His mission was to take Fundy with him. His mission was to avenge his dead son-

Is his son actually dead though?

Phil let out a quiet whimper as he fell to his knees again, opening his eyes ever so slightly to stare at the falling lava. Despite the heat emitting from the deadly wall, Philt felt cold . The room felt smaller than it really was. Phil tried wrapping his wings around himself, only to find out they were bound by something as well. He felt tears in his eyes.

Schlatt was back. Schlatt had Wilbur. They would torture him again. Philza had never really moved on from what happened. Sure, it had been ten years ago, but with Phil constantly distracting and overworking himself, he didn’t have time to get the proper care and attention. He has not healed correctly. And now that he’s been put into the exact situation… Things are getting messy.

He wants to go home. Or wherever that is. 

He prefers hiding in the shadows watching Tommy clear out empty booths. He prefers listening to Technoblade talk about his day. He prefers anything to this. Isolation is torture enough. 

A pair of feet suddenly stepped inside Phil’s cell.

“You know, when I heard they captured Philza Minecraft, I didn’t believe it was true. You were off the radar for a decade, man. Many thought you were dead or somethin’”

Phil recognized that voice. 

Hesitantly, he raised his head and locked gazes with a man in a beanie. A nasty scar lay on the left side of his face. Philza almost didn’t recognize him, but the toothy smile and bright yellow wings gave his identity away. 

“Quackity?”

Quackity chuckled, crossing his arms behind his back and skipping in his step toward Phil.

“Yes yes, it’s me, Angel . How are you?”

Philza narrowed his eyes.

“Awful.” Since when did Quackity work for the SMP? Was he kidnapped as well? But… no, Quackity didn’t look tortured, or traumatized, he looked content and happy. An uneasy feeling settled in Philza’s stomach. Quackity is a villain now. 

The man let out a loud laugh and squatted to Phil’s position.

“Sorry for that, Sapnap hit your head too hard, I think. I wasn’t there. But the President sure is mad about his broken nose.”

Phil tried hard not to flinch at the word, “President”.

“Serves him right,” he replied instead, gritting his teeth. 

Quackity’s grin widened.

“It does.”

Before Phil could ask what he meant, two more guards came inside the room and harshly pulled Phil to his feet. The avian thrashed and squirmed in their hold. Quackity watched silently in the corner. 

“Schlatt insisted on letting your family reunion continue first before you go meet him. So I’m here to take you to Siren and little Fundy.”

Phil’s eyes perked up to the words that came out of the duck hybrid’s mouth. Phil gulped. The guards held him still.

“Is… Is he really my Wilbur? How did he survive? How is he… alive?”

A sad and sympathetic look fell on Quackity’s face. Phil almost did a double flip. But in an instant, the man’s face cleared and he let out a sly smile instead.

“You have to ask him that yourself. I’m only here to escort you."

Phil gritted his teeth again and let the guards drag him forward. 

“Fine. Let’s get on with it.”

The walk to Wilbur wasn’t as long as the first one. After about two hallway turns, Phil ended up in front of a single frosted glass door with guards on either side. Quackity whistled loudly after he noticed Phil was standing in his place for too long.

“So, uhhh, house rules. No killing each other please. And know that there are cameras and microphones inside that room so whatever secret escape plan you want to share with Siren, forget it. I’ll give you ten minutes to talk and then we can head over to Schlatt.”

The door opened.

“Good luck, Philza.”

Phil reluctantly stepped inside. 

[Vault 003, SMP-002]

Philza heard the laughter before he saw them.

There, on a single bed up against a soft padded, probably soundproof, wall sat young ginger Fundy and his father. Fundy was giggling uncontrollably as Wilbur told him what seemed to be a joke and tickling his sides. They looked well, in perfect condition even. But Phil knew better.

As he focused his eyes on the room, he found a pair of metal shackles on the corner. On the right side of the room, a wall was filled to the brim with lines. On a small table with two chairs, an open medicine kit was strewn out, bandages soaked with blood and alcohol scattered across the surface. Now that Fundy was in cleaner clothes, Phil could outline the hollowness of his cheeks and the skeletal look of his arms and legs. 

Wilbur was no better. He looked hurt in every move he made. He wore no clothes, full chest wrapped in numerous bandages. His unruly hair was tied up in a small bun and this time, Phil could see the burn marks on his neck and back. Phil’s fist curled up in rage. 

“Wilbur.”

The laughing stopped. 

Sweet Fundy turned to Phil and ran in his direction.

“Hello, Phil! You met Papa earlier before you fell asleep! You didn’t talk long and I never introduced Papa to you. This is Papa, Phil.”

The young one tugged on his sleeves and his smile reached the corners of his face. Phil’s heart ached when he was met with a glare from Wilbur.

“Fundy… Can you go ask Quackity to take you to the daycare room for now?”

Fundy frowned and turned back to his papa.

“But I want to play with you and Phil. You were just telling me about ice cream!”

“Fundy Soot.”

The fox hybrid let his frown fall as he nodded obediently. His eyes desperately told Phil he didn’t want to go. 

“Okay, Papa.”

Slowly, and silently, Fundy went through the frosted door, leaving father and son alone in a cell that oozed tension. 

A few seconds passed, and Philza and Wilbur continued staring at each other. The silence was beginning to drive Phil insane until…

“Go on.”

“W-What?”

“You have questions. Right? Go on, I’ll answer them.”

Phil gulped.

“Wilbur, I... “

“I don’t want to hear anything about you. I’ll answer the questions only.”

His son’s voice was strained. Hoarse. Phil almost didn’t want him to talk. But Wilbur was right. He had questions. And he needed answers. The avian decided on the slower approach.

“Is Fundy really your son?”

Wilbur snorted and then winced.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Well, Philza, when a mommy and daddy falls in love, they-”

“No, I- I don’t mean that. How did you have him? Who is his mom? Where is his mom?”

Wilbur looked resigned. It took him a few moments before speaking again.

“Her name was Sally. We met eight years ago. Fundy is seven.”

Phil didn’t need Wilbur to explain the past tense in Sally’s name.

“...How did you survive the explosion?”

Wilbur’s brow furrowed. 

“Explosion?”

“Yes, the one we planned. The one I… set off in place of you.”

Wilbur chuckled.

“You must be going mental Phil. There wasn’t an explosion. My redstone didn’t work properly.”

Phil was confused.

“No! I know there was an explosion-”

“Look.”

Wilbur stood up and walked towards Phil. The younger towering over the older by a few inches.

“I don’t care what you know. There wasn’t an explosion. After you left me to fucking die, I watched you fly away. I woke up in the SMP with a stab wound and a few broken bones. You chose fame over me. You chose yourself over your own son. You were probably happy to get rid of me. So that no one would compete in the top hero spot any longer. You-”

Phil couldn’t breathe again.

“Wilbur. What are you saying?! I would never do any of that! I searched for you for years! I thought you were dead. I wanted to avenge you, Wilbur!”

Wilbur let out a mocking laugh.

“It’s funny how you’d think I’d believe you. I’m not a kid anymore Phil. I’m 28. A fucking adult with a son. You can’t play your tricks on me.”

Phil wanted to cry.

“Wilbur, please just listen,” he said desperately. “I’m not trying to trick you. I left the hero quarters to investigate your death. I wanted to seek revenge. I wanted to know what happened. I left Tommy. I left Techno.I left everything for this. For you, I-”

Wilbur gripped Philza’s shoulders tightly, catching the man off guard as he pinned him against the wall. Phil let out a yelp of pain.

“What do you mean you left Tommy? You abandoned him too?! Like you did to me?”

Philza struggled.

“I didn’t want to! But I had to avenge-”

Philza flew sideways as a fist connected with his jaw. The frosted door started opening.

“ BULLSHIT! You just wanted an excuse to escape the responsibility! You sick fucking piece of shit. When I get out of here, I’m never gonna let you near Tommy! Never! He doesn’t deserve a coward for a father.”

Philza’s cheeks were wet with tears as he scrambled to his feet.

“Wil, just understand. This is all just a misun-”

“ Shut the fuck up. ”

Philza’s lips closed. 

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to demand me to understand you. Because I fucking can’t! You’re fucked up, Phil.” The avian’s heart ached even more. “I hope this place fucking ruins you.”

No, Wil… No, you don’t mean that.

Guards start pouring in and bring Phil out of the room. The man thrashed repeatedly, forcing his mouth to open and scream for them to take him back to his son. That they weren’t done. That he had a misunderstanding to clear up. He wanted to resolve things with Wilbur. His questions weren’t even answered yet. 

But he was pulled away. 

He watched the frosted doors slam in his face.

He wailed like a madman as they dragged him away.

Blood dripped from the forceful opening of his mouth.

WILBUR!

The son in question let a tear slip from his left eye, pushing his consciousness inside and letting his gentler counterpart take over. The lights above him began to flicker, and distantly, he could hear the painful cries of his father. 

The son chooses to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Wilbur wakes up the exact moment the hot iron hits his skin. 

A scream ripped through his already hoarse throat, and within seconds, he was thrashing and moving in his position, trying to get away from the object that was starting to melt his skin. 

The feeling and smell of burning flesh wasn’t a new thing for Wilbur, and he had awoken to situations like this before. He’s used to it. He won’t lie and say the pain doesn’t affect him in any way. It hurt like a fucking bitch. 

Another rod hit the lower part of his nape and Wilbur’s cry turned into a series of coughs. 

He remembered falling asleep on the ride to the SMP. He remembered being dragged inside of the doors while a commotion was happening. He remembered the guards. He remembered the crowd. He remembered passing out due to exhaustion. 

The hero grimaced through the sound of sizzling. Right, he shouldn’t have done that. 

He shouldn’t have blacked out. This was his punishment. Another branding and fifty lashes to keep him in place. Then the interrogation. Or, if he was lucky, he’ll get to see Fundy first before the lashes and interrogation. But years of imprisonment taught Wilbur to never rely on his luck.

“Finally awake, Soot?”

Quackity’s voice made the man bring his head up. The duck hybrid was sitting on a chair behind a glass wall that separated him from the torture chamber. Wilbur glared, his voice too broken to speak.

“Look, man, I didn’t want to do this. President’s orders. If it helps, you can see the little fox after this session.”

Wilbur narrows his eyes and screams again as the obsidian shackles around his arm tighten and draw blood. 

Quackity sighs, bringing his hands to his face. He had a hint of disgust and sincere sympathy on his face. 

“No tricks this time, Mermaid. I’m really sorry.”

As Wilbur said before, Quackity is one of the most confusing staff on the SMP. One second, he could be carrying out drug deals and stab you in the back, and the other, he could be apologizing to you with real emotions. The hero didn’t know when and when not to trust the hyperactive adult.

“The Council reviewed the footage from the Camarvan. Sure, you got us the money but… Wilbur, our mission is to be discrete. And you just went ahead and formed an alliance with one of the most mysterious vigilantes of the lower districts. You didn’t exactly follow protocol.”

Siren wanted to curse Quackity out. He wanted to say, “Fuck the protocol!” to the members of the Council. Only his flaring back and strained vocal cords stopped him from doing so. 

Instead, Wilbur let out a mix between a whimper and a sigh of relief as he felt the last iron rod pull back. Surely, there were new “SMP” brands strewn carelessly across his back. The scent of fire still hung in the air as the shackles that held the hero in place loosened. Wilbur fell on the cold tiled floor of the torture chamber, the ground littered with soot and specks of red fluid. 

A small ding! Was heard and soon, Wilbur felt guards pulling him upwards. He groaned and let his head lull, too tired to move. In the back of his mind, he felt Ghotbur tell him that he was going to see Fundy afterward, that he couldn’t be in this state when facing his seven-year-old boy. Wilbur agreed to let the alter take over. He had enough pain for today. 

Distantly, Wilbur watched as Ghostbur sat on a stool and let amateur medics bandage his torso and arm harshly. It was a good thing the alter didn’t feel pain. Once, Wilbur asked the other about it and the man only gave him a sad smile, saying it was because of both the blue and Wilbur himself. The hero didn’t understand. He still doesn’t. 

Wilbur let Quackity lead him out of the chamber and into the bright hallway. If one didn’t pay attention carefully, the place could even be mistaken as a hospital. But being stuck in this place for a decade, Wilbur knows the truth. It was a sadist’s den. It was the President’s playpen. It was a way to “teach a lesson” or whatever the fuck that was. 

“Ah! Mr. Wilbur Minecraft! How was the trip-”

Speak of the devil, and he arrives.

“It’s Soot.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

The President’s accent was foreign and a bit slurred, it appears that he had been drinking again.

“I’m Wilbur Soot.” Ghostbur replied. Both of them held equal contempt for the ram hybrid. 

Schlatt frowned, scrutinizing Wilbur with his gaze, before abruptly laughing like a maniac. 

“You’re still a funny man, Wilbur.”

Wilbur winced inwardly as the President put an arm around him. He couldn’t feel anything. Ghostbur made sure of that. But the thought of pressure on his fresh wounds made Wilbur sick.

“Anyhow~ I decided to be nice today as well! I’m not gonna bring you straight to questioning. You get to see little Fussy-”

“Fundy.”

“Little Fundy first! Have a little family reunion, ya know?”

Wilbur didn’t trust the mischievous look in the drunkard’s eyes.

“I know. Quackity told me.”

On Wilbur’s right, the duck hybrid stiffened, bringing his dandelion wings closer to himself. Schlatt let out a playful but terrifying grin.

“Is that so? Geez, flatty patty, why do you keep spoiling my surprises, eh?”

“I-I’m sorry, President.”

Wilbur felt sorry for him.

“Well, what’s done is done.”

They continued walking. Schlatt wouldn’t stop talking.

“Fundy’s such a sweet child. Despite growing up in this god-awful place. He reminds me of my own boy when he was younger. Curious, hyper, and adorable kid. I miss those days sometimes.”

Prime, just shut the fuck up, Wilbur thought.

“Have I told you about him yet? Hmm, I think not. We don’t chat often. Little Toby is graduating next spring as a hero! I’m so god damn proud of that kid.”

Schlatt’s grin widened. 

“I’ll make sure they grant him the top position in his class. He sure as hell deserves it. Always showin’ his old man he’s the best with his grades. When I was his age, I had already dropped out!”

Anger and envy coursed through Wilbur’s veins as he listened to Schlatt rant about the amazing life he had given his own son. It wasn’t fair. Little fucking Toby gets to have the perfect education and training, while Wilbur’s Fundy had to rely on torn-up picture books and broken pencils for learning. Even Ghostbur pursed his lips. 

“That sounds… Nice, Mr. President.”

“Hell yeah, it is! Too bad you’ll never meet my bright boy. He’s too good for this hellhole.”

Booming laughter echoed through the empty corridor. The group had stopped in front of twin metal doors that Wilbur remembered to be the conference room. He wasn’t allowed inside much, only whenever he was interrogated.

“I thought I was meeting my son first?”

Ghostbur questioned confusingly. Schlatt patted him on the back. Motherfucker. 

“You are! He’s right inside!”

“Not in our vault…?”

“Nope! No more questions from you! Just get in.”

Schlatt made a motion to Quackity which quickly made the poor guy move and pull out his access card on the detector outside. Soon enough, a tiny beep! Came from the device and the doors to the room opened slowly. 

[The Meeting Room, SMP-002]

Inside, there was Squad DT001, consisting of people who had shown Wilbur kindness. Which was good, because they were always assigned to the set of vaults which included Wilbur and Fundy’s. 

The Squad had six people in it, with two of them missing from the group inside the conference room. The first one, and the diplomat of the group, was BadBoyHalo, or just simply “Bad”. He was the sweetest “villain” Wilbur had the chance of encountering. Whenever Wilbur had to go away for his torture sessions, it was usually Bad who babysat Fundy. Bad had probably changed more diapers than the father himself. 

When Wilbur asked the man where he learned to do parental duties so properly, Bad told him he’s had firsthand experience and then proceeded to look fondly at the next member of the squad, Sapnap. Sapnap was a mix between a Blazeborn and an unidentified creature. He was a reckless, all-over-the-place arsonist who surprisingly liked children. The man preferred doing the “guarding” part of the job and took his duty seriously. Sapnap never hesitated taking care of Fundy when neither Bad nor Wilbur were around. He would entertain the kid with his fire powers while making sure the flames wouldn’t hurt the small fox. 

The third member of the group was a Feline hybrid called Antfrost. Wilbur knew little to nothing about feline hybrids so Antfrost’s presence incredibly helped in raising Fundy. Antfrost had taught Wilbur about proper fur grooming and how to cuddle with Fundy in a way that the child feels safe and cared for. Wilbur now knew more about the furry species, and he owed it all to Ant. 

For the fourth member of the squad, there was a creeper hybrid named Sam, or Awesamdude. Wilbur wouldn’t call him the second one. Sam and Wilbur didn’t interact that much, as the hybrid spent most of his time guarding the gates or repairing the SMP’s technological systems. But the hero had seen the affectionate glances the villain sent Fundy’s way. Sam would willingly guide Fundy in his math worksheets whenever he had time. 

The fifth and sixth members of the squad were George and Dream. George was… interesting, to say the least. He was rarely present during the day but thrived during the nighttime, which was probably why Fundy didn’t know him that much. Wilbur, on the other hand, had spoken to George on multiple occasions. The person was cool enough, he had mushrooms sprouting on some parts of his body, and spoke in a similar accent to Wilbur. 

Meanwhile, Dream was Fundy’s second favorite person in the whole wide world. He actually said “first favorite”, but Wilbur refuses to acknowledge that statement. Dream was just really good with children, in general. The chaotic assassin would often dramatically read out stories to the fox hybrid and sometimes, would even sneak in toys and games from above. He had said something about a younger sister back in his old hometown who he misses greatly. Still, Wilbur didn’t like the fact that his only son would choose a creepy green bastard over him. 

All in all, Wilbur was forever grateful for the squad. They were his and Fundy’s constant company and the only thing keeping Wilbur (Aside from Fundy) from going insane with isolation. They were there during desperate and difficult times. And even if they were villains, they were one of the rare, good ones. Wilbur had learned that the long and hard way.

The quick pitter-patter of feet was heard even before Wilbur stepped into the room. 

“Papa! Papa! You’re here!”

Ghostbur giggled and crouched down so Fundy could jump in his arms.

Wilbur smiled inwardly. This was nice.

“Hello, my little champion. Sadly, your Papa is tired today. He can come back later, yeah?”

Wilbur’s heart warmed as Fundy smiled wider, revealing his sharp baby teeth. Oh, what a beautiful boy his son was. He deserved the world… And Wilbur hated himself for not being able to give it to him.

“Okay, Ghost Papa! Tell Papa Fundy understands. And that I missed him!”

I missed you too, my sweet champion. Wilbur replied unconsciously. Ghostbur nodded cheerfully.

“Of course, Fundy. He missed you too.”

The hero laughed on the inside as Ghostbur pressed his index finger on Fundy’s nose, to which the child responded by giggling, jumping down, and twirling around, ears perked up and tail swishing happily. In his peripheral vision, Wilbur could see Bad chuckle through his hand. As Wilbur scanned the rest of the squad, he realized that the green bastard usually lurking by George was missing. 

How odd. 

“Did Papa go to a candy shop, Ghost Papa? Did he eat ice cream?”

No, I kept my promise to you, little one.

“Oh, tell me, tell me what the outside was like!”

Both personalities smiled at the seven-year-old’s enthusiasm. 

“I think that will be your Papa’s story to tell.”

Fundy pouted and released a small noise of protest. Wilbur felt the need to tease him further but Ghostbur only rolled his eyes at the suggestion. The child let out a loud and unsatisfied sigh.

“Okay. Promise he’ll tell me when he comes back?”

That, he will do.

“I promise.”

“Let’s seal it!”

Ghostbur immediately put up his pinky finger. Wilbur cringed at seeing that it was the one with blood visibly flowing through the messy bandages. Fundy didn’t mind, however. The hero knew that the young one was used to the sight of blood and injury. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t appropriate, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal. But nothing was normal in this place. 

Fundy bounced in his place again. Wilbur noticed Schlatt walking to the left side of the room.

“Ghost Papa, I made a new friend when you went outside!”

Oh? Did they put a new prisoner in his cell? He’s told Fundy multiple times to avoid strange people whenever he wasn’t around. Who’s this new friend he’s talking about?

“His name is Phil. He has a strange mask. And wings. But he carried me here ‘coz my feet hurt. He’s a good guy!”

The feeling of someone else watching him suddenly fell on Wilbur and his head snapped up. 

It was him. 

The man who flew away.

The man who escaped.

The man who didn’t even look back as his son lay there, too weak to move.

The man who abandoned him.

Fucking Angel. Fucking Philza Watts Minecraft. 

“You..”

Wilbur’s voice came out.

Black turned to brown, and Ghostbur silently let him forward.

“Why are you here?” 

He asked. A simple yet genuine question. Why was Philza MInecraft here? Why isn’t he in his stupid hero costume? Why is he where Wilbur was locked up for ten years? Why is his hair grey? Why do his wings look like that? Why does he look surprised? Why does he look confused? Why does he look sad? Why does he look angry? Only Wilbur has the right to be angry in this situation!

Philza’s knees wobbled and he dropped to the floor. 

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at this action. 

His back was aching , and he could feel the uncomfortable and painful texture of the bandages with his open wounds. But the pain could not compare to the hatred that burst through the walls of Wilbur’s mind and soul. Fundy turned his head back and forth between Wilbur and his father in confusion. 

Philza opened his mouth. And then closed it again. What? Did he not expect to see Wilbur again? Did he hope to meet a ghost instead? Wilbur’s glare intensified. 

“W-Wil..”

How dare he call him that? How dare he sound so pained… So broken? How dare he-

“Wilbur...I-”

Wilbur wanted to look away and cover his ears. He believed he had every right to do so.

“Well, this is such a wonderful family reunion!”

It was Philza who first broke eye contact to stare at the President. Wilbur almost wanted to scoff at Schlatt’s placement on the chair. He had his feet lazily perched on the glass table of the conference, and had his arms behind his head. He was smiling in amusement over the “reunion” and Wilbur wanted to punch that grin off the ram’s face. Fortunately, Phil did it for him.

The son watched the exact moment that his father realized who sitting across him was. He watched as his father’s once beautiful, pearly white wings, now dark as a crow with bones peeking through, got into an attack position. He watched as Philza Minecraft jumped onto his target. He watched as blood dribbled from the President’s nose.

Surprisingly, he didn’t feel anything. He felt numb, distant. Even as Antfrost used his metal baton to hit Philza on the head, Wilbur didn’t react. There was a tug on his arm. Wilbur turned to a very confused Fundy, missing the sight of Phil falling down, face-first on the floor. 

“What is it, sweetpea?”

Fundy frowned.

“Why did Phil hit Mr. President?”

Before Wilbur could speak, Schlatt opened his mouth and laughed. The hero gritted his teeth.

“Coz’ he’s a rude fucking bitch.”

Wilbur noticed Bad shift uncomfortably at the curse words. Fundy’s frown intensified.

“Papa, what’s a bitch?”

The hero sighs, he then gathers the child in his arms and slowly gets up. He ignores the feeling of passing out from the pain in his back. He had to get Fundy as far from here as possible. 

“It’s a bad word and good boys like you aren’t allowed to say it.”

He replies, pulling Fundy tighter to his chest. 

“Sir,” he addresses Schlatt. “May we get back to our cell?”

Schlatt waves a hand dismissively.

“Fine. Fine whatever. I’ll have fun later.”

Wilbur bites the inside of his cheek. 

“Thank you, Mr. President.”

He turns around. Bad and Sapnap follow him. Quackity’s gaze lingers on his retreating figure. With each step he took, his vision turned hazy. Earlier, he didn’t even notice the quick beating of his heart. Now, he was aware of how cold his hands were. Of how loud the ringing in his ears was. He was losing himself again. Ghostbur urged him to step back. He complied easily. 

Soon, the world was gone, and all that remained was himself and his mind. 

[Wilbur’s Dreamscape]

Wilbur had stopped having dreams the moment his first serious torture session started. 

He didn’t even get nightmares. He was luckier than most, and Wilbur was grateful for that. This time, however, fate planned something different for him. This time, Wilbur woke up in his old house. This time, Wilbur got transported to a time where everything was fine, where nothing bad had ever happened. 

He could hear his younger brother, Tommy, outside. He could smell his mom cooking pasta for lunch. He could see Technoblade sleeping on the family couch. Everything was perfect. Everything… It was nice. 

When Wilbur had looked in the mirror in his room, he wept with joy. His face was youthful, cheeks full and eyes bright. His nose wasn’t crooked awkwardly to the left. His entire body was clear of scars and brands of the SMP. He could walk normally. His hair was styled the way he liked. Wilbur was content. This was home.

“...Ah, so this is your happy place.”

Wilbur nearly stumbled from the voice that seemed to come from the mirror.

“W-Who goes there?”

A kettle-like wheeze bounces off the walls of his room. Wilbur furrows his eyebrows.

“Dream?”

Then a body solidifies on his bed. First, it was just a blob of white. Then it grew and shaped itself into the lime green bastard known as Dream. Despite laughing earlier, Dream’s mask bore no expression. Where it was a smile and bright neon, this time it was just a plain white mask with an eerie black serious face. Wilbur could feel the ground spinning.

“Wh-What are you doing in my house?”

“This is your dreamscape, Wilbur Soot. You’re not really here.”

The odd figure said, sitting cross legged on Wilbur’s beige sheets. 

“Soot? What d-do you mean? I’m Wilbur Minecraft. My father is-”

It came rushing at once. 

Wilbur brought his hands to his hair and began pulling on the brown strands. 

“N-No.. How… Where’s Fundy? Why am I here, Dream?”

The hero desperately begged. Different feelings stirred inside of him. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. And most of all, frustration. He was frustrated by the turn of events. One moment he was so happy. Happy that everything he had gone through was just a nightmare.

But he had to face reality. And reality was Dream sitting on his teenage bed. 

“I didn’t mean to ruin this dream for you, Wilbur… But we didn’t know when the chance would come again. For once, you were open. You were vulnerable. I accessed your mind pretty easily.”

Right, Wilbur thought. Dream’s power gives him the ability to control and enter people’s minds when they’re unconscious. That’s why he and George got along. George can make people sleep with his mushroom fumes.

“Why… Why did you need to access my mind? And who is “we”?”

Dream sighed. 

“More than half of the squads in the SMP. Along with the prisoners. We plan to overthrow Schlatt and stop the tortures and human trafficking once and for all. And we need your help.”

Wilbur was stunned. It took him a few seconds before recovering. 

“W-What?”

“We couldn’t tell you with all of Schlatt’s men around. And it would be safer anyway. He could’ve easily used Fundy against you. Against all of us. But now that the Angel has returned, we can finally get the outside help that we need.”

The hero gulped and looked at his hands.

“And you need my help… Why?”

“You were once a hero. And you still are. The people will listen to you. And Schlatt practically has fun messing with you. So, while you put out a show for him, we can officially start the course.”

“A show?”

“You and Phil.”

Wilbur scoffs.

“I do not want to be associated with him anymore, you know that. He abandoned me. He wanted me to die.”

Dream shook his head.

“He didn’t, Wilbur.”

“And what proof do you have?”

“I entered his mind when we knocked him out and brought him here. He… genuinely thinks you died in the explosion. He’s been searching for ways to avenge you.”

“W-What?”

What explosion?

“He’s left the hero quarters. He’s left Tommy with Technoblade. He’s been alone this whole time. He’s become a villain and used his power to fight.”

“He’s…”

It was too much for Wilbur to handle.

“Wh-Why did he do that? Why did he abandon his life? Why did he abandon Tommy? What about Mum? What happened up there, Dream?”

Dream just gives him a look of sympathy.

“Your mother died when Philza returned to them. Tommy almost died as well. Philza was desperate. He realized the hero-villain life wasn’t good for your brother. So he got someone to erase the kid’s memories. He does love you and Tommy, Wilbur. He’s just been through so much that he doesn’t know how to show it properly anymore.”

A single tear dropped from Wilbur’s eye. He quickly wiped it away.

“His actions are still inexcusable. I’ve been through so much too. He’s not the only one in pain. I will not forgive him.”

He says, voice wavering.

“And you don’t have to. You can even use your real emotions for the show. We just… Wanted to tell you ahead of time.”

Wilbur nodded numbly. This was a good thing. They’re planning to overthrow Schlatt. To expose him to his tyranny. To free the prisoners. To earn freedom for himself and his son. To see his brother again. He could act. He knew how to do that. And considering the circumstances, it wouldn’t even seem like acting.

“What would you have me do, Dream?”

The classic neon smile appeared on the green bastard’s face.

“Just give Schlatt a convincing act. You know what he likes. Keep him busy. Then… About two to three days from now, you’ll be brought outside again for a mission. This time, escorted by us. We’ll make sure you’ll get away. We’ve arranged a meeting with a famous vigilante, the Blade. One of our friends from the hero quarters told us he was looking for Angel. You tell him our plan. And everything that is going on. Convince him. Relate to him. He’s pretty strong, but nothing your power can’t handle.”

Wilbur nods to all of this, feeling more and more numb by the end. He was about to wake up again. Dream was almost done.

Outside, in their backyard, he could hear Tommy’s loud laughter. 

“Does Phil know about this?”

Dream shakes his head.

“Not yet. But we’ll tell him soon enough.”

Wilbur makes a noise of understanding.

“Okay. I’ll do your stupid plan.”

Dream tilts his head.

“Do you want to stay here some more, Wilbur? Time works differently in dreams. I could easily let you stay here for a month, just as long as you won’t forget anything I have told you.”

Wilbur mused. He could say yes and enjoy peace, even for a month. He could wake up to Tommy jumping on his bed. He could go to hero school with his stomach full of his mother’s pancakes. He could spend time sparring with Technoblade. He could have a piece of happiness. 

But Wilbur had Fundy. Whatever happiness he gets from staying here will be fake and fabricated. Reality is painful, but it’s reality. And he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed to come back. He needed to talk to his son. He needed to carry out the plan. He needed to confront Philza Minecraft. 

He needed this to work, so he could get his freedom. 

“No. Let’s go back.”

Dream merely nodded. Already knowing why Wilbur made his decision. He held out his hand. The hero took it. Slowly, the world around them faded into oblivion. 

“Wilby! Mum says lunch is ready!”

Wilbur covers his ears.

I made a spotify playlist for each SBI character in this book.

Wilbur's playlist

Tommy's playlist

Technoblade's playlist

Philza's playlist

Do check it out if you like!

Chapter Text

Tommy had a way with words.

He liked talking. Talking about himself. Talking about the weather. Talking about his family. Talking about the cafe. Talking about Miss Niki. Talking about history. Talking about L’manburg. Tommy was rather fond of sharing his life story, even to a complete stranger.

So why was he finding it difficult to tell Tubbo, his best friend for nearly seven years, about his secret identity of being a vigilante? 

Maybe it was because of the fact that the seventeen-year-old was training to be a hero. Training to take a job that captures vigilantes. Or maybe it was because of how Tubbo is a rich kid, who would probably judge Tommy and his life choices. Theseus wasn’t sure himself. But whatever the reason was, he didn’t have the option to keep his secret hidden from the ram hybrid anymore. Especially with how intensely the teenager looked his way. 

From the moment he woke up, Tommy could feel Tubbo’s eyes dig into the back of his head. The only thing he could do was avoid the uncomfortable gaze by checking in with Techno or focusing on his potato pancakes. Which, as always, tasted heavenly. Tommy would never get tired of his big brother’s signature breakfast meal. 

To avoid Tubbo even more, Tommy volunteered to help Techno clean the table. Techno’s reaction was unexpected, and now that his mind was clearer and he could finally notice things, Tommy realized that the other vigilante looked a little more out-of-it than usual. 

“You aight, Big T?”

Tommy starts casually, picking up a piece of cloth to wash the mahogany furniture with. Technoblade flinches and slowly turns to him.

“Of course, Theseus. Why wouldn’t I be?”

The teen raised an eyebrow at the reply. He stopped wiping the cloth and made eye contact with Technoblade. The latter looks away and shifts uncomfortably. Tommy then narrows his eyes. He decides to take a safe route.

“Are you sure? It’s totally fine to not be fine all the time, Tech. You know you don’t have to be in big brother mode all the time.”

At that, Techno lets out a silent sigh of relief. Tommy doesn’t notice.

“Y-Yeah. I guess I’m just stressed. The bills are comin’ soon and I haven’t organized everything yet.”

The vigilante says this with a hint of uncertainty in his tone. Again, Tommy isn’t stupid. He knows there was more of what was going on with his brother. Probably a patrol gone wrong? A hero bothering him? He didn’t look physically injured… Maybe it was something psychological?

“Hey. If you ever need help, you can ask Ranboo and me.”

Techno smiles, seemingly amused at the idea.

“And trust you with a budget that has our economic status on the line? No thanks. Wait till you’re legal.”

Tommy groans and points his washcloth in Techno’s direction.

“You taught me how to do all that taxes whatnot last month! We gotta apply it somehow.”

“It was for preparation. I don’t expect you to be doing our family’s finances anytime soon. That’s my job and responsibility. Your job is to make sure you’re well educated and become a decent person.”

Tommy scowls and pretends not to notice his insides feeling woozy at the way Techno addresses their “family”. 

“It’s also my job to make sure you don’t fuckin die in a ditch coz’ of overworking.”

The blond watches as Techno’s eyes soften for a moment as he gives Tommy a look that makes the lad’s cheeks heat up.

“You can just say you’re worried about me, Tommy.”

If Tommy’s cheeks weren’t heated enough, they were tomato-red now.

“Sh-Shut up, and just do your work, bitch!” 

He sputters and begins wiping the table aggressively. Technoblade lets out a low chuckle and continues sweeping the floor. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Tommy eventually gave up and broke the quiet atmosphere. 

“I… I am worried about you, Tech. You’re my big brother and I love you. I can’t stop my feelings, y’know? Just… be more mindful about your wellbeing? Please? For me?”

Tommy slowly looks up to see the expression on Technoblade’s face. The man was frozen, but in a good way, and Tommy could see that slight curling of the corner of his lips. 

Then Techno nodded and everything was alright. 

Techno would never verbally say “I love you too.” to Tommy but for the teen, that was perfectly fine. Techno showed his love in other forms. His love language was a stark contrast from the younger’s, but that’s just how the world works for the two. 

It was during these rare moments of Tommy vulnerably saying what was in his heart, not in his mind, that the brothers were reminded of everything they had been through. Techno more than his Theseus. Tommy was glad that Techno didn’t tease him about his words, and Technoblade was glad that the blond honestly admitted his concerns. On the flipside, both had big secrets they knew they couldn’t hide for much longer, but until then, they would enjoy this period of peace.

[Bedrock Bros’ Cafe]

“Mister Bedrock.”

Tommy looks up from his position on the register and sees his two best friends in front of his brother. The teen inwardly pales.

“Prime, that surname sucks...Yes?”

Techno looked confused.

“We want to go to the park. Can we take Tommy with us?”

A frown settled upon the adult’s face as he stopped whatever he was typing on his communicator.

“Uhhh… Sure? May I ask why?”

“We’re staging a revolution.”

Tubbo said confidently and placed both his hands on his hips. Tommy’s brother let out a snort and went back to his previous task.

“Yeah, whatever. Just be back before curfew.”

Tommy’s brunet best friend let out a wide grin and the former wanted to make a run for the door. But, no, he was trapped. And they had already asked Technoblade. Damn it.

“Sure thing, Bossman!”

“Theseus.”

Tommy scrambled from his chair and walked over to where the three were. 

“Y-Yeah?”

He tried his best to focus on Technoblade’s face instead. The chipped left tusk was still there, never changing. And the light scar that ran from the pinket’s right chin to his forehead, making his right pupil lighter in color. Techno wasn’t “ugly” or “monstrous” in Tommy’s opinion. It was the face of a man who would read him Greek stories before going to bed. Who would let him destroy his furniture and walls with careless scribbles. However, as of this moment, that wasn’t the point.

“I want you to buy these things before going to the park, okay? They’re emergency groceries before Niki and I go to Puffy’s to stock up for real. It’s not a lot so I know you and Ranboo can carry it home.”

Technoblade then proceeded to hand him and the hybrid a wad of L’Manburgian cash and a list of the groceries. Tommy scanned the piece of paper before putting it in his pocket. Ranboo took the money and secured it in his own wallet. The two nodded at Techno sincerely.

“Well, that’s it. Have fun I guess.”

Tubbo gave a loud whoop before grabbing his bag and running out of the cafe. Ranboo followed suit, only bringing his mask and glasses. Tommy came last, having to take off his work apron and put on appropriate shoes after. He also, may or may not have intentionally taken longer to get ready than his usual pace. 

Alas, the inevitable came and Tommy walked in the middle as the trio headed over to the District’s plaza. The whole trip was silent and Tommy quietly observed the glances Tubbo and Ranboo gave each other. When they eventually reached their destination, the brunet amongst the three chose a hidden bench near the pond that was covered in thick bushes.

Tommy bit his lip nervously as they sat down on a wooden bench. He could hear his heartbeat through the lobes of his ears.

“So,” Tubbo started. He places his hands on his lap before turning his head to Tommy. Ranboo just crossed his arms. “Addressing the elephant in the room… Thomas Bedrock, what happened last night?”

“I-uh..” Tommy let out an awkward laugh. The Tubster didn’t look amused. 

“I had a hypotensive attack?”

Tubbo gave him an accusing stare and leaned forward as a form of intimidation. It worked. The blond immediately put his hands up and stood up from the bench.

“Okay! Fine fine… You got me.”

Tommy sighs and wipes his palms on the front of his jeans. As he begins his statement, his eyes dart everywhere except for Tubbo’s face. 

“I-I’m a vigilante. I’ve been doing this for a… four-”

“Five.”

The stuttering teen glared at the masked man. 

“Five months already. I usually patrol the lower districts and mostly come home with close to zero injuries and no hyperventilating. I’m known to the public as Big Man Innit. Now, I expect you to say some Ranboo shit like how I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing because it’s fucking risky and stuff but mans really like it, y’know?”

Tommy sways on his feet.

“The feeling of saving someone is amazing. Like, “I did that. Someone’s safe or someone’s happier because of what I did.” It gives an odd sense of fulfillment. I reckon tons of heroes feel this way too. I’m almost like them. Just cooler, more poggers, and uh… Illegal.”

Ranboo snorts through his mask and Tommy could almost compare it to Techno’s own signature sound. 

“What I want to really say is, thank you for last night and judge me all you want, but I will never stop what I’m doing. If I can’t be a hero, then I’ll be someone who really cares. I’ll still be a vigilante even if my best friend, who's training to be the very thing that arrests people like me, finds out. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed. I’m sorry if you “expected better”. That still won’t change what I want. So you can only keep quiet about last night’s whole ordeal or I will force you to, myself.”

He finishes his speech with frustrated eyes and a loud huff before gathering the courage to look up. To his utter surprise, Tobias Schlatt X was beaming at him. 

“That’s your reaction?!”

Ranboo sputtered beside the brunet, looking even more shocked than Tommy. If it was possible, Tubbo’s grin widened.

“Well what do you expect me to do? Pretend to be mad at him?”

Ranboo turned his whole body to face Tubbo.

“You should be! What he’s doing is dangerous! And like he said, illegal !”

“Eh so what? Haven’t you ever stolen a piece of candy in a store your whole life?”

“That’s a different degree of illegal! We’re talking about vigilantism here! Fighting criminals without a license! Also, I’ve never stolen candy!”

“You’ve led a sad life, Ranboo.”

“W-What- How is this about me!!?”

“You two, shut the fuck up!”

Tommy heaved and pointed a finger at Ranboo.

“I’ve already explained my shit to you and I’m grateful you didn’t tell anyone but I’m done with you constantly saying you know what’s best for me. Please, for the love of Prime, Ranboo, let it go!”

“Your life's on the line! You don’t even have the right vigilante tools or weapons.”

This time, Tubbo interjected.

“Wait, what?”

The 6’1 blond sheepishly turned his gaze toward the thick azalea bushes that hid their location.

“What do you mean he doesn’t have the right tools or weapons?”

Tubbo questions loudly. The enderman hybrid chuckles menacingly before gesturing to Tommy.

“This idiot right here decided it was a good idea to make his smoke grenades and rope propellers in our shared bathroom. He stole stuff from the kitchen and made a mess of himself. He doesn’t even have weapons! Just a close-to-useless stun gun that he glues together using gorilla glue. He’s never gonna make it to six months if this is how he plans to execute his side gig.”

“Hey!” Tommy’s ears turn red. “It’s not a side gig! And I can always make more smoke grenades. Also, for your information, king, I’m saving up to buy a real poggers stun gun.”

“Tommy, your pocket money is ten dollars a week. And you don’t have a license.”

“I’ll lie and say I’m eighteen!”

“Tom-”

“TOMMY YOU MORON!”

Tommy whips his head to the still-smiling Tubbo. That smile is starting to creep the hell out of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before? I could’ve helped you. Prime, you’re such a dumb fuck.”

“What’s with everybody insulting me today?”

“Hush, child. You shall speak only when spoken to.”

“What the actual fu-

“Moving on!”

Tubbo gets up from the bench and stretches his arms. 

“XD above, I thought you were going to tell me you were a villain working for the SMP.”

Tommy chokes.

“I’m not a goddamn villain!”

“Yeah, I know now. Anyway, let’s go to my house!”

Ranboo hesitantly stands up.

“This is still weird. And the conversation is far from ever but… Why are we going to your house?”

Tubbo laughs aloud and jumps in his place.

“I’m gonna help Big Man Innit with his stuff. Since you were so adamant of him having useless and life-threatening gear, I volunteer to be his personal technician and weapon handler!”

Both Ranboo and Tommy had their mouths agape. One was in horror, and the other in surprise joy. 

“NO!”

“POG!”

[Schlatt Residence]

The journey to the Schlatt Residence was incredibly awkward. Ranboo was still shooting silent glares to Tommy and Tubbo’s way, the latter not seeming to mind the stares. The blond teen, on the other hand, still felt struck by his friend’s reaction from earlier. It was quite shocking, innit? He should have expected better from Tubbo, seeing as he’s known him for forever, but he never really had the chance nor did he prepare for the day the Tubster finds out about his night job. He didn’t know whether to feel terrified or relieved.

Despite their argument, he and Ranboo decided they would buy Techno’s groceries before they went home. That is, if they still have the energy to carry out a normal task after whatever Tubbo plans to show them. 

Tommy whistled as the group walked into a richer neighborhood. Sometimes, he forgets that Mister “BeeBoom” is filthy rich. With how often the kid hangs out at the cafe, and how little he actually talks about his family, the idea of Tubbo living in the higher districts without care about paying rent and necessities had slipped his mind. Now that he thinks about it, he had never been to Tubbo’s house before. 

The air was cleaner than down south and there were gardens galore. Tommy had never seen that many flowers in a single area. The houses were also grander. Compared to the lower districts’ cramped apartments and tall skyscrapers, this place was solely for family houses. Luxurious family houses. The vigilante thought about how lucky he was that techno had scored a decent two-story apartment on a “safe” street. Still, Tubbo’s neighborhood was on a different level.

Each house was unique in appearance, with complicated shapes and sizes. Some were an upgraded version of the modern box houses, while some looked like replicas of the fancy Victorian houses centuries ago. Each lot had high fences with fancy gates. The main street was clear of vehicles as well. So clear that the trio walked in the middle of the road and not the pavement. Tommy was losing his marbles about how wrong it felt. 

Finally, they stopped in front of a house that looked like a smaller version of a landmark in Tommy’s history book. He wonders if Tubbo calls this the “White House” as well. Nonetheless, despite it being “smaller”, it still looked grand in the teen’s eyes. 

Tommy watched as Tubbo pulled out a card from his backpack and put it in front of a blue sensor. The blond jumped out of the way as the gates began to open. Ranboo only flinched at the creaking sound they made. Prime, even Ranboo looks tiny in contrast to the entire building. 

“Welcome to my humble abode, bossmans!”

Tubbo gleefully said and opened his arms as if he was doing a house reveal. Well, in this case, he really was.

Tommy had to clench his jaw to avoid it from dropping.

“Humble? What do you mean humble?!”

Tubbo only laughs. He then turns his back from the duo and walks inside casually. Tommy and Ranboo scramble to follow him. They looked so out of place. With Tommy in his denim jeans and pink “Smoking kills” shirt, Ranboo in similar jeans and his Tropical polo shirt, and Tubbo in his khakis and mustard yellow hoodie, the trio looked like a bunch of nudists at a masquerade ball. Like fish out of water. Tubbo was the single relaxed one out of them. 

When they entered the house and came into the living room, Tommy couldn’t keep his mouth closed anymore. 

“Tubster, when you told me your family was rich, I didn’t think you were this rich! Holy Prime dude! This is insane!”

Tubbo looked shy.

“I don’t know what you mean, Tommy.”

“You lying asshole. I should have exploited more from you!”

“Now, now, what’s this talk about exploitation?” 

Slowly, the blond teen and his masked friend face the man who just spoke. 

There, on what appeared to be a kitchen bar, sat an adult ram hybrid with large curved horns on either side of his forehead. His yellow eyes with horizontal pupils glowed as he gazed at the two, as if judging both their appearance and entire existence. He had a lamb chop beard cut on his face, and although the smile he gave was wide, Tommy could feel shivers run down his body. The fact that he was wearing a light blue hoodie and ram slippers didn’t make him less intimidating. 

Even Tubbo straightened his posture.

“Father. Th-These are my friends from the cafe I told you about. The one where I study and hang out… This is Tommy, and this is Ranboo. Uh, guys, this is my dad, Jason Schlatt IX.”

Tubbo gestures to both of them at the introduction. Mr. Schlatt continued to stare at the duo in uncomfortable interest. 

“Tommy and Ranboo, huh? You two seem familiar, have I met you before?”

“Um, no Sir.”

“Did I ask you to answer?”

Tommy shrunk.

“No… Sir.”

“Don’t just speak when I don't ask you. Prime, teenagers these days.”

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He was beginning to hate the man already. How did his son turn out to be an awesome person if he was this awful of a creature?

“ Father. ”

Tubbo said sternly in a scolding manner. Mr. Schlatt huffed and placed his stare on his son instead, relieving the tension on Tommy’s shoulders. Tubbo’s father gave a cheeky grin and drank from his liquor bottle. Tommy flinched. Now, this, he knew. He remembered how Tubbo would cry to him and Ranboo about how his dad acted whenever he was under the influence of alcohol. Tubbo loved his father, but he never liked this side of him. Tommy didn’t understand it fully then, but he sure as hell did now. Both of his fists clenched at his sides. 

“Chill, Toby. I was merely greeting them. In your old man’s own way.”

Then Mr. Schlatt laughed loudly and Tommy wanted to put his hands over his ears.

Tubbo winced and awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“Uh yeah… We have to go now tho, Dad. Are you picking Lani up from school?”

“Your Aunt Puffy is. I have to go to work later.”

Tubbo nodded skeptically. 

“Right.”

A few more seconds of silence passed and Tubbo just immediately walked away. Ranboo hot on his heels, and even stumbling on the way. Tommy lingered longer, having a staring contest with the current negative energy in the room. Schlatt leaned forward and tilted his head. Tommy’s breath hitched.

“You really do look familiar, boy. Who’s your dad?”

Flaring up, Tommy moves to speak, but before the teen could answer, Tubbo’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Tommy! Walk faster!”

Tommy bolts for the exit, trying to painfully ignore the low chuckle behind him.

“Interesting…”

“Your dad is really scary, Tubbo.”

Tubbo sighs in exasperation as he leads them along the enormous hallways.

“I know. He’s not usually like that. Drinking really messed him up badly. Still, he was the one who gave me this life and worked hard to get our family a place like this. I just wish he would…”

The brunet trails away, and Tommy lets him. Tubbo didn’t have to tell them anything he didn’t want to share. It was his business. Tommy didn’t have the right to squeeze the stories out of his friend. So he would be patient, as did Tubbo with him that entire morning.

As the trio passed hundreds of rooms and open spaces, growing anticipation formed in the blond’s chest. He had forgotten that Tubbo brought him and Ranboo to his house for possible weapons and technology. What was Tubbo gonna show him? He was only a hero-in-training. He couldn’t possibly have the quality materials that licensed heroes have. Tommy shrugs inwardly. Whatever Tubbo would be willing to give him, he would be happy with it. Anything would be better than the crap he currently owned. He would never admit that to Ranboo, though. 

The soft grey carpet made little, to no noise as they walked the great halls. On the cream walls, there were both abstract and still-life paintings of multiple creatures and objects. The most profound one, being the ram animal. Typical. The Schlatts were best known for their ram traits. So it was no surprise that the family was very proud of the said physical quirks. What struck Tommy as strange, however, was the lack of family pictures. 

Now, Technoblade himself didn’t put up tons of pictures of Tommy and Ranboo, but there were occasional frames that hung from the walls of their floor above the cafe. To Tommy, pictures indicated that someone was actually living in the house. The homeowner or someone who constantly stayed over. Having no pictures of familiar faces on the walls of your own place felt suffocating and uncomfortable to Tommy. It looked like a base of operations instead of a family mansion. 

The teen tore his focus off the walls, and instead, placed it on his roommate who hadn’t spoken a word since they stepped inside the mini White House. Ranboo was paler than usual. He fidgeted his fingers repeatedly and lowered his head and back, making him almost the same height as Tommy. The latter raised his eyebrow. 

“You ‘aight, Ran-”

“We’re here!”

They had paused in front of two metal doors that were so different from the previous wooden ones. On the left wall beside the doors was a sensor similar to the one at the gates, and like before, Tubbo had to pull out a card and wave it directly on top of the said device. Tommy tried his best to see what was written on the card, but it was blank. Curious, he observed as the metal doors slid to the side, revealing another hallway. This, however, had tiled floors and steel walls. Tommy was awestruck.

“Come in, you guys. This is my study area.”

Tubbo carelessly ran inside. The remaining two gave each other a look of disbelief before coming after the brunet. When they reached the end of the line, Tommy almost shit himself.

His eyeballs almost popped out of their sockets as the teen scanned the room excitedly. 

“ This is your fucking study area ?! Tubbo, this is a fucking laboratory!”

The room was spacious, with the same steel walls that covered the hallway, and the same white tiles that took up the floor. On one end of the room, there were shelves filled with tech trinkets and scientific tools. There were two large glass desks on either side of the area, with one having tons of paper and books on it, and the other with a fucking electron microscope and a gaming pc. How is that even possible?!

In the middle of the room, there was a circular glass tube that appeared to be both a 3d printer and a holographic transmitter. Ranboo bolted for the minuscule fridge on the right side of the room. He took out a water bottle and a straw. 

Tommy was still stuck in his position at the entrance of the “study area”.

Tubbo merely covers his face with his hands.

“It was my dad who bought all this for me. When I told him I was studying science and technology as an elective and a side course to my hero journey, he immediately asked his men to create this entire space.”

Tommy gawked at him.

“ Created? You mean this entire lab is an extension?”

Tubbo shrugged. 

“I dunno. I was never allowed in the deeper parts of the house. This room is the closest I’ve got. Ranboo, you okay there, bossman?”

The mentioned teen weakly nods his head and sips from the water bottle more.

“Yeah, just needed to catch my breath.”

As the two continued talking, Tommy wandered and started exploring the so-called study area. He had reached a board that was almost as high as the ceiling, and was filled with multiple pictures, different colored strings, sticky notes, and writings. They were all pictures of vigilantes, heroes, and villains alike. On the top left corner of the board, he spotted images of his vigilante persona. Next to them were a bunch of yellow sticky notes. 

‘Calls themself Big Man Innit’

Tommy let out a grin.

‘Gender: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Location: Unknown’

The teen was proud of himself for keeping it secret for so long.

‘Discuss with Nihachu’

Who the fuck was Nihachu?

‘Intentions are good. Patrols 10-15 districts. Leave be.’

Since when was Tubbo into researching vigilantes, heroes, and villains? Sure, he was in hero school, but no school definitely makes its students broaden a topic like this, this much. Prime, now that he realizes it. There’s so much shit he didn’t know about the Tubster.

“I see you’ve found my research board.”

“Yeah. You even got me up there.”

“Mhmm. I can update some of the stuff now.”

Tommy looked at him in alarm.

“What?! No! What if someone sees this board?”

Tubbo snorts.

“No one can get past those doors except for me, Tommy. I promise. I’ve had this board up for years now. It’s like a hobby of mine, but more… serious. Besides, I’d been suspecting you for a long time.”

A bewildered look appeared on the younger’s face. A hobby? How is this a hobby? At this rate, he might pass out from the shocking revelations he received. How does one cope with sudden information?

“Is that why you weren’t shocked when he told you he was Big Man Innit?”

Tubbo replied enthusiastically.

“Yep! Anyway!”

He put his hands together and made a beeline for the glass table with the stack of papers. 

“Let’s do what we originally came here for!”

“Which is..?”

“Make you a better outfit and weapons of course!”

“How do you even plan to do that?”

“Using C73M-3NT1N3”

“Using what? ”

Tubbo waves him off.

“I call them Clementine.” He gestures to the glass tube in the middle. A glass tube that sounded like it was humming. Tommy found it enchanting. Ranboo found it horrifying.

“You named a robot?”

“Clementine’s not just a robot, Boo. They can store tons of data and carry out the requests I put through them. They designed some of the famous vigilante and hero suits. Clementine is the future of technology!”

Ranboo just stayed silent and decided to settle on a purple bean bag near the mini-fridge.

“Whatever. I will not be interacting with it.”

“Tubs, does this mean you plan for Clementine to make a suit for me?”

The brunet in question nods vigorously and scribbles away in a piece of paper.

“I plan to replace some of your weapons and tools too! You’ll be a brand new vigilante by the end of the month?”

“The end of the month?! I thought it would take lots of months!”

Tubbo giggles.

“That’s Clementine for you.”

Tommy’s admiration for the machine further intensifies. 

“Do you plan on patrolling tonight?”

The blond beamed.

“Of course!”

Ranboo stood up from the bean bag.

“Absolutely not! You had a hypotensive attack last night and if I’m correct, you’ll still be using your old suit! This whole thing isn’t an upgrade at all! If you really plan to patrol, do it after Tubbo makes your stuff. I won’t be allowing you to risk yourself anymore!”

Tommy glares at Ranboo.

“What are you, my father?”

Ranboo bristles but stands firm.

“I’m one of the people Techno trusts to watch over you!”

“Well, I don’t need to be watched over! I’ll do perfectly fine tonight! Last night was just a fluke! I swear I’ll-”

‘Uh guys, I could actually give his whole outfit an upgrade right now. It’ll be a bit scuffed but it should work okay. Better from his current one at least.”

Tubbo spoke from the other desk with the pc. How did he walk over without the other two noticing became one of the many questions in Tommy’s mind. Alas, the words Tubbo uttered intrigued him greatly.

“What do you mean, big man?”

“Your entire outfit is extremely similar to the Blade’s”

Tommy stills. He doesn’t know… does he?

“And I assume that’s coz you’re a big fan of ‘im. Well, I’ve been working on a prototype of the Blade’s outfit for a while. I’ve changed some parts but the same color palettes and theme apply. I could even make a bulletproof cloak right away actually. As for the voice changer… I have tons on the shelves!”

Tubbo looks at Tommy in the eye as he presses down a few more buttons on his keyboard. 

“It won’t be the suit I’m especially making for you, Mr. Thomathy-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But it’ll be a better alternative. And it’ll quit Ranboo from yapping like a mother hen.”

Ranboo let out an offended gasp.

“I do no-”

“So what do you say, Tommy?”

The blond vigilante smirks and stares up at the holographic design Tubbo pulls up in Clementine’s glass tube. His eyes sparkle as he opens his mouth to reply.

“I'm fucking in, Big Man.”

[The Districts of L’manburg]

Soaring past buildings upon buildings with new and reversible rope propellers felt like a fever dream for Tommy. He caught his reflection on one of the glass windows of an empty skyscraper and gave out a loud whoop. When he “flew” by the districts on his patrol list, the people who were still awake waved at him from the ground and from their own apartments. The vigilante waved back. This was the happiest he’d ever been. 

He decided to stop on top of the Camarvan warehouse. It was abandoned, as expected, with police tape littering the ground. Tommy didn’t mind. He gazed at his home district from above and ocean eyes reflected the city’s twinkling lights. L’manburg was beautiful. That was a fact. And Tommy would give up his own soul to secure its peace. 

A gloved hand planted on his shoulder.

Tommy whirled and was met with the Axe of Peace.

“Tommy, Tommy, wake up!”

The first thing he saw was the wires attached to his body and the sickening smell of saline. His mouth was dry and his muscles were sore. His head was a living hell. He couldn’t even move his lips to speak.

“Techno’s on his way, Tommy. He’s coming. He’s almost here.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the words and fear struck in his chest.

“N-No.”

Ranboo’s eyebrows scrunched up from above him.

“What do you mean ‘No’? Tommy, what happened?”

But the golden-haired teenager returns to his slumber. 

Chapter Text

As the title says, the Technoblade One-Shot that you guys voted for is up on ao3! It's called "A Blood God's Vow".

Take this as a treat and an apology gift for not updating for literal months. I am terribly sorry. I was getting so busy in school and I was slowly losing all motivation to write. But the recent lore and content we've been getting have slowly pushed me to write again. Thank you so much to those who stuck around and bore with me. Thank you to those who didn't stay as well, it's understandable and I'm sorry for making you guys wait. 

The link to the fic is: A Blood God's Vow

I hope you enjoy this one-shot as I work on Chapter 10 of EWHD! Thank you again! Love you all! Hope you have an excellent day! 

p.s. I will be editing this chapter so comment something so I can reply to it once I finish Chap 10!