Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[REDACTED] just wanted a glass of water. That was it! Just water to quench their thirst after waking up with a dry mouth. They hadn't expected to be jumped in their very own kitchen in the middle of the night.

They struggled against the hands that held them fast against the counter. These people knew what they were doing, whoever they were; they kept [REDACTED'S] hands away from each other, preventing them from blasting the attackers away. Their wrists ground borderline painfully against the marble countertop. As [REDACTED] continued to struggle, one of their attackers put them into a chokehold, more to keep them from moving their head than anything else.

The dark figures (there were four of them, [REDACTED] had figured out) manhandled them into the living room, where another figure stood. They forced [REDACTED] to sit down in a chair, still keeping their wrists held down and preventing [REDACTED] from using their powers. 

The person waiting for them in the room approached them.

"Ah- hello there. You, I must assume, are [REDACTED] ? Of course you are," the figure purred, now right in front of them, "my workers don't fail."

The mysterious man seemed to have an aura of assuredness about him, an awareness that he held all the cards.

"You're probably wondering, 'Mysterious person, why me? Aren't there more powerful heroes you should go after?' Unfortunately, I'm not answering to you. Sorry!"

The man reached out and grabbed [REDACTED] 's bright hair tightly in his hand, pulling his head back so his neck was fully exposed. The latter of the two gulped and breathed heavily, both with fear and adrenaline. The figure brought up his other hand, the object in it glinting in the moonlight.

"This won't hurt a bit."

>~=~<

Tommy climbed out of his window and onto the roof with practiced ease, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling down. He let out a sigh, feeling the breeze brush his skin and whistle in his ears.

There was something oddly therapeutic about being on the roof in the evening, with the late sun warming the sky and the wind tangling his hair. It was calming.

A solitary cricket chirped.

Of course, if you know anything about crickets, you know that while many together sound just fine, one single cricket is much different than many crickets. One single cricket is as annoying as all get-out.

The roof was not very peaceful now, Tommy decided.

Who did that cricket think it was, interrupting Tommy's calm? Did it not realize who he was? He was the biggest man in the entire city! The cricket should be worshipping him!

Maybe he should form a vendetta against crickets the same way Wilbur loathed anteaters. Then they would be required to fear him, to respect him. They would-

His phone dinged.

His phone dinged.  

It was probably important, since his family knew not to interrupt Tommy's roof time.

He fished it out of his pocket and opened the message.

tubbox: Really sorry about this tommy, but I cant come tonight. Something came up and I cant make it. Have fun watching the sun set without me :(

"Ouch," he breathed out, "well I guess the sunset will have to be twice as cool tonight to make up for the half as cool it is without Tubbo."

You: thats too bad tubso

You: wait ru ok?

"Sunset, it looks like you better live up to my expectations or you and I will have some problems, innit?"

He stared down the sun as it sank lower in the horizon. The sun stared back.

Eventually Tommy won by default because the sun retreated behind the edge of the world.

The stars were starting to come out. Clouds drifted over the crescent moon before sailing on.

It really wasn't as fun without Tubbo.

Tommy glanced at his phone again.

It had been twenty minutes and the message hadn't even been read. Something was definitely wrong.

You: Tubbo

          tibbo

        Tubbo

        Toby

        tubso

        big T

        big man

        tubster

When Tubbo still didn't respond, Tommy called him.

His friend picked up after the third ring.

"Tommy?"

"Tubbo are you okay big man?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

" Tubbo, " He admonished, "You're not okay, what's wrong? You never miss sunsets."

Tubbo sighed, the sound coming out crackly through the tinny speaker

"Its not that bad, Tommy. Just a few bruises and a scrape on my elbow. It's got some dirt in it but it'll be okay once I get home."

The corners of his mouth turned down, brow furrowed with worry. Bruises? What was Tubbo doing that would get him bruised and scraped up?!

"Tubbo what happened?!," the blond questioned, sounding panicked.

"So basically, you know how I don't live in the greatest part of town?"

That was true. Oh, Prime what had happened?! Was Tubbo okay? Had he been shot at or beaten or stolen from or-

"Yhm," Tommy replied, prompting his friend to continue.

"So I was on the way to your place you know to watch the sunset with you and all like normal- speaking of which how was it?"

"How was what?" 

"The sunset! How was it?"

"Tubbo, big man, you're trying to deflect and it isn't going to work on me. Now spill, you're making me more anxious."

"I may have been attacked. Mugged. Jumped. But I survived ."

"Tubbo where… where are you?"

"I'm back at home. Why?"

"Alright I'm coming over now."

"Wait Tommy I'm fine you're overreacting you don't really need to come over-"

Tommy hung up. It didn't matter what Tubbo said, he needed to make sure for himself.

>~=~<

Tommy barged in the front door of Tubbo's apartment to find his best friend watching Grey's Anatomy. 

Before he could say anything, Tubbo turned around in his chair, legs crossed and fingers steepled.

"So, Tommy…"

Tommy swallowed nervously. 

"Tubs, Tubbo, Big T, I-"

He swallowed again, hands fidgeting with a pencil. He was incredibly uptight but in Tommy's defense, Tubbo looked downright murderous.

"Tommy."

"Tubbo?"

"Tommy. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. You know what the punishment of disobeying your boss, the greatest mafia boss in history, is."

"Tubbo no, please, please Tubbo. Not that! Anything but that!" he pleaded. Tubbo's eyes narrowed. He wasn't swayed in the slightest, it seemed.

"I'm sorry, Tommy, but this is how it has to be." He stood up and walked calmly over to the light switch, flicking it off.

Tommy was, of course, momentarily blinded and only able to see the tv. In those few seconds it took for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, Tubbo pounced.

Tommy was knocked to the ground by a force that could only be Tubbo. He wasn't able to get up before being pinned and then Tubbo started tickling him!

"Tubbo, no! Ahahaha- please Tubbo stop! I won't do it again, I promise, I'll do anything! Pleeeeaase!" he heaved out between giggles and gasps for air.

Tubbo paused. 

"Anything?"

It was then that Tommy realized what he'd just said and quickly backtracked. 

"Well not just anything, big men such as me have standards you know, and-" he was cut off as Tubbo began to tickle him again. "Okay, okay, fine, yes, anything. I'll do anything!"

The brunet got off of him and helped him off the ground.

Tommy stood there for a moment, trying to catch his breath while Tubbo went and turned the light back on. When his friend walked back over, he looked him in the eyes.

"Are you really alright?" He questioned.

Tubbo sighed.

"Tommy, I'm fine. I am literally okay."

"Yeah, what about this," he grabbed his hand gently, pointing out the bruise forming on Tubbo's wrist, "and this," he poked a scrape... cut? on his friend's forearm- the other arm- "and this?" He gestured to his own face as if it were a mirror. "Tubbo, you're not okay. What happened?"

"I already told you what happened, over the phone," the teen replied, having lost most of his bravado.

"Okay, you got mugged, but like, how did-" Tommy paused, struggling for the right words, "why does this keep happening around here? Shouldn't there be heroes around on patrol or something to help?"

"Tommy, the heroes have bigger things to worry about. Like supervillains, and that one power-enhancing drug thing that happened a few years ago. That's what superheroes are for. There's a reason we have the police."

Tommy dragged his friend to the couch, sitting him down. He retreated to the bathroom and returned with the fist aid kit.

"Yeah but… they help in my area! And the police obviously aren't handling it well."

Tubbo hissed as he cleaned the scrape on his arm with alcohol.

"Tommy there aren't many heroes in this district. Nothing super-level of a threat happens here. Just normal crime."

Tommy slapped a couple bandaids onto Tubbo's arm.

"There, you're cured. What about vigilantes?" The blond questioned.

Tubbo gave him the Look™.

"I know they're illegal Tubbo but that's never stopped them before!" He protested.

Tubbo was still giving them the Look™.

"Tommy, the last vigilante in this district was apprehended five years ago. Things have been growing slowly worse since then. What? Did you think life is a TV show?" He teased, arms crossed.

"Well, obviously it is, and I'm the main character," Tommy replied cheekily.

"Sure, Tommy, whatever you say. Tell me why were you named after a power ranger?"

"Ohhh you- Tubbo that is a low blow. You are such a wrongun Tubbo. I cannot believe you would say such things about me, Tubbo. I've been betrayed! By my best friend! My life is over, you have killed me!" He clutched dramatically at his chest before falling off the couch.

Tubbo kicked him.

>~=~<

Tommy walked back home an hour later. At that point it was quite dark, and he was pretty jumpy because of what happened to Tubbo. (Would he admit that to anyone? No, he had a brand to keep up.)

He felt his power buzzing within him and called on it, almost immediately feeling safer.

There was a glint of eyes from an alleyway and he ran, ignoring the fact that he could easily protect himself.

Tommy darted around the corner, stopping for a breath, only to hear raccoon chitters behind him.

'Seriously?'

>~=~<

The rest of his walk back home was uneventful.

After sneaking into his room using the window, it was as if he'd never gone anywhere but the roof.

Tommy's phone dinged again.

tubbox: Tommy go to bed

              i mean it

He sighed; Tubbo knew him too well.

Chapter Text

Tommy scowled as his Current Events teacher, Mr. Trambower, stood up from his desk and walked to the front of the room, rubbing his hands together. Whenever he did that, it always meant that there was going to be a completely boring and unfun project or a ‘class activity' to do that the balding teacher would try to present as fun.

He tuned out his teacher, focusing instead on the small sketches of weapons and suit concepts that lined the edges of most of his notebook pages. One of the twin discs could totally carry a power-neutralizing agent instead of the paralyzing agent both of them had been planned for…

A paper fluttered down onto his desk, interrupting his train of thought. 

"Tommy," Tubbo half-whispered, poking him with the eraser end of his pencil, "Tommyyyyyyyy."

"What, boss man?" Tommy whined, turning to face him.

"Were you paying attention?"

Tommy snorted. "No, of course not. Were you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then what are we doing?"

Mr. Trambower announced that they should divide into their teams.

"Tubbo! What are we doing?"

Tubbo explained to him that they were going to be discussing the ethics of vigilantes and their criminal status. The paper stated what team you were on as well as what opinion your group would be defending. Your group would make an argument with ample evidence and choose someone to present it.

"Gold Team goes over there," he pointed at the table nearest the window, "Black goes there," he pointed at the table nearest the door, "Silver team goes over there," he pointed to the table by the cabinet wall, "And Blue goes there," he pointed to the other cabinet wall table.

Tommy checked his paper. "Tubbo, are you on gold team?"

"Okay, first off, how did you uncapitalize Gold Team by speaking?"

"Because I am an absolutely pogchamp person, with many supernatural talents," he replied smugly.

"Mr. Underscore, Mr. Innit-Watson, please go to your group," Mr. Trambower 's voice rang over the others in the classroom.

"Oh- right," Tommy hissed under his breath.

Ever the appeaser, it was Tubbo who apologized to the teacher and dragged Tommy with him over to their team.

>~=~<

"Yes, we have superheros. But they exist for the purpose of taking down supervillains and super threats. The word 'super' is in their title for a reason. The same reason that we still have police. Superheroes are not responsible for taking care of normal crimes such as muggings in the street or thieves in your home. Although some do, that's the police's job. However both police and heros have to wait for authorization of their actions. 

Vigilantes are able to stop crime and help with super-level incidents without being restrained by laws and superiors They can be in places where heros and police are not allowed to go, or won't go. Their presence helps drop the rates for crimes such as muggings, murder, thefts, and other things which happen in-the-moment. The police can hunt down the offender and put them in prison but they can't be everywhere to stop things while they're happening.

Vigilantes have really been cracked down on in recent years but there are still some around, such as Slimecicle, Ender, and Nihachu. During hero and villain fights that cause a lot of collateral damage, they can often be spotted helping civilians to safety while the heros are occupied and the police are under equipped to dash into crumbling or burning buildings.

Despite being hunted down and opposed by heros, police, and villains alike, vigilantes play an important role in the era of heros and villains, and are an important piece of the Jenga tower we call society.

Does anyone have questions because they weren't paying attention?"

No one raised their hands. Of course not, they'd all been giving him their full attention and he'd covered everything fully.

Tommy nodded and walked back over to the table, where Tubbo and their other two 'team members' sat. (He and Tommy had done all the work.)

"Nice job, Tommy!" Tubbo exclaimed, albeit quietly. The other two nodded, barely looking up from their phones.

They did their strange handshake and he sat down in the plastic school chair belonging in the dumpster.

"Thanks Bee Boy. It's impossible for me to not be good at anything and I would like to give you my appreciation for finally coming to terms with that."

"You wish," Tubbo scoffed, rolling his eyes. When he looked back at Tommy, the blond was zoned out, staring at the wall. "Tommy?" He waved a hand in front of his face. 

Tommy blinked back into focus. "Huh?"

"You okay there, boss man?"

"Uhh… yes? What kind of question is that, just look at me! I'm never not okay."

Tubbo fixed him with a glare.

"Fine! I've just got some… stuff. On my mind. I'm fine, honestly."

Tubbo narrowed his eyes at him but didn't push it. Instead he turned his attention to his phone, shooting off a text to Sam, or Warden as he was known to the general public.

Sam had been acting weirdly lately. If you didn't know him, it wasn't noticeable. However Tubbo did know him, and something was just… off.

And, he kept calling rain checks on his tutoring days. Sam never missed an opportunity to teach the young tech wiz more about his craft.

"Tommy, have you noticed Sam acting a bit strange lately?" He questioned. Tommy didn't respond, he was scribbling something in his notebook and muttering to himself. "Tommy!" Tubbo snapped his fingers in the blond's face.

"Huh?" Tommy looked up, setting his pencil down.

"Tommy did you notice Sam acting a bit strange lately?"

"I mean I guess so? Now that I think about it, he has seemed different somehow." He replied before being absorbed into whatever it was he was doing.

The bell rang shrilly, jumpstarting students into leaving the classroom as fast as possible. Francis sped out of the room in a flash; teachers could be heard scolding them for speeding through the halls.

Tommy walked out instead of waiting for Tubbo, muttering to himself. Tubbo heard something about discs and streamlining and making something last longer.

Wait- discs? Tommy had mentioned discs once, and asked him about the design.

...Was he? No. Surely not.

...

Surely not.

>~=~<

Tommy walked out the glass doors of the school, wincing at the glare from the sun. He made his way over to the old creaky bench and sank down into it. His eyes thanked him for choosing to sit in the shade.

He pulled out his other notebook, his personal one, and got to work.

If he were to make a suit, (He wouldn't ever actually use it, it was just for fun of course. Lies, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Tubbo told him.) it would need to be an interesting one. A simple skintight suit like the fictional heroes of movies and comics of old wouldn't cut it. 

He hummed, messily scrawling lines and curves. Maybe a hoodie of some sort? Or at the very least a hood.

People left him alone, which right now, they didn't really have a choice, but he could pretend it was out of human decency.

He was still distracted by the hood with something else vs. hoodie debate when he heard a voice near him, speaking his name. The blond yelped, standing and facing the direction where 'dit'd come from. 

“Puffy! What are you doing here?”

The sheep hybrid stood in all her former-hero glory decked out in a rainbow heart t-shirt and jean shorts.

“Ah, there you are. Did Phil not tell you that I’m picking you up today?” she questioned him, sounding amused.

“Uhhh… no?” he replied, sounding unsure. He quickly scrolled through his memory and came up with no recollection of that happening.

“Well, I’m picking you up today,” she said, stating the obvious. Her hooves clicked on the concrete and her mechanical leg whirred as she shifted. Tommy didn’t grant her an answer; he didn’t gift answers to the obvious.

“So are we going, or…?”

Puffy’s response was a fist in is direction. Tommy’s eyes widened, and he dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the punch thrown his way.

“Nice miss,” he quipped. She just laughed. 

“I don’t even know why I still try to catch you unprepared these days, you’re too used to hits coming at you at any point during a conversation with me. I obviously need to enslave someone else to try punching you randomly,” she told him, grinning. “Anyways, we’re going.” Puffy about-faced and practically ran to the car, although she would swear it was only walking if you were to ask her. “Hurry up before you become as old as you say I am!” she called.

“Screw you and your metal hunk of a leg,” he huffed, jogging to catch up. His mentor was already in her car by the time he reached her. 

>~=~<

“Okay, what’s on your mind?” she asked him after his third time failing the obstacle course. Tommy sat on the floor, untying and retying his shoe. 

“Uhhhhhhhhh nothing?” he replied unconvincingly. He cringed as the sheep hybrid stood near him, the only time she could be taller. 

Loop, grab, pull. Grab, tug, hook, pull. Grab, tuck, pull, loop, grab pull.

“I don’t buy that.” Puffy stared down the top of his head like it held the secrets to the universe. It was starting to get uncomfortable. 

Tommy glanced up at her and Sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, and then didn’t. He swallowed and tried again.

“Puffy, what’s your opinion on vigilantes?” 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I think they’re fine. They do an important job, despite what the media and probably the government says. If you want to be a vigilante you could’ve just told me that instead of jumping around, you know.”

Tommy gawked at her for a moment before snapping his mouth closed. “Why are you a mind reader? You can’t even, like- your ability or power or whatever is literally being part Baa-baa! You’re not a mind reader, you don’t have mind powers. I hate you. Like, actually hate you. I wish to file a divorce.” His eyes widened as she burst out laughing. “Nononono no thats NOT what I meant! I want to uhhh- I-I will sue you! You will owe Big Man TommyInnit all the money. All your former-hero riches will be mine!”

She only laughed harder. Tommy felt the tips of his ears heating up.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY, STOP LAUGHING!” She didn’t.

Tommy crossed his arms, mock pouting, and stared at the ground until her laughter died down a bit. 

“Seriously though, Tommy. A vigilante?” he nodded. “Okay.”

“What, that’s it? Okay? You’re not about to lecture me on exactly why I shouldn’t do that?” he looked at her incredulously.

“Do you want me to?” He shook his head. “That’s what I thought. I think it’s a good thing! And it’s something you would be good at. But Tommy,” she paused for a moment, watching as he looked back towards the ground, “Tommy look at me, hon.” Tommy did, she would just keep asking if he didn’t. “Why do you want this? You’re straight on track to be a hero intern in less than half a year, and being a full-fledged one in two. 

You won’t be hunted down by authorities for stopping crime if you choose to be a hero. I’ll fully support anything you do within reason, and I consider this to be within reason, but you need to know what you’re getting into.” Of course, he’d put a lot of consideration into this already.

“I have thought a lot about it, okay? And- I need to. It’s for Tubbo. He needs to be safe to walk to Tesco’s at 8 at night without having to carry a pocket knife and pepper spray in his own neighborhood.”

“And what can’t you do about that as a hero?” the sheep hybrid questioned.

“I’m not giving you a five-minute speech like the one I did for Current Events earlier today.” He crossed the room and shuffled through his backpack, coming back with a few note cards. “Here, read these,” he told Puffy, handing them to her. She accepted the cards and began flipping through them. The sheep hybrid nodded and hummed as she read off the cards.

“Huh. I see your point. How are we carrying this out?” 

“We?” he questioned, puzzled.

“Did you honestly think I’d let you do this by yourself? Who do you take me for? I would like to think I'm responsible.” Puffy sported a mischievous smirk. “You know, it’d be fun to get back in the business.”

Chapter Text

“You designed all this yourself?” she asked, looking in amazement at the pages spread out before her.

“Yep,” Tommy replied with a smug grin.

“And what’s your plan to bring your stuff into existence exactly? You aren’t exactly what I’d call skilled at building things. Designing? Yes. Bringing your mechanical dreams into fruition? Not really. That’s what Tubbo is for, right?”

Puffy was right, unfortunately. Tommy had no idea how to bring his discs or the complicated, high-tech suit to life. Tommy also didn’t want to bring Tubbo into this, he and Puffy had already decided to leave him in the dark.

“Sam’s out of town this weekend, we could borrow his lab and he’d never know.” the problem was, he didn’t know how to use the lab. He told her as much. 

“Not at the Tower, at his house! He’s got a secret lab accessible by the basement, it’s basically his playground. And Sam may be gone, but Sam Nook is not.” She was doing it again, being all cryptic.

“Puffy, who is Sam Nook? Is Sam hiding children in his basement? I would be incredibly worried if Sam was hiding children in his basement.” Puffy started laughing again, her laugh sounded halfway between a normal person and a baa. Further observations also revealed it to be infectious.

“Your voice has a bit of baa in it.” he told her, cackling.

When he calmed down a bit, he noticed Puffy already heading to the parking lot to leave. He scrambled to grab his backpack and follow her.

>~=~<

You: Tubs if sam had a secret basement workshop what would the password be

tubbox: Tommy. Tommy what are you dong

You: I’ll help you with your next experiment

        Whatever you nwed me to do

tubbox: 🙄  finr

              Try Fr@nN00k

              Tommy whatever it is yorue doing there better be a good reason you know youre nott allowd to cause trouble without me

You: Thx big T! Please dont punhc me too hard

>~=~<

Tommy gazed on in awe as the sensitive instruments attached to the appliance put the finishing touches on his second disc. Behind him, Puffy was inputting the parameters for his suit into another machine. He heard the shutter click as it took a picture of the sketches he had made for it, complete with notes and colors.

“Your stunning devices are both now complete, TommyInnit!” The AI informed him, accompanied with a cheerful ding.

“Thanks Sam Nook!” The blond snatched the discs and gloves from the metal surface, grinning widely.

“ It is my pleasure to assist you. Shall I inform AweSamDude that the project has been successfully completed?” Tommy stared at the screen with disdain. How dare Sam Nook try to interfere with the Shenanigan Club?!

“No! Don’t tell Sam about this at all, Nook! This is the Shenanigan Club, we keep mum unless otherwise expressed by your leader, which would be me. Unless you no longer want to be a part of the Shenanigan Club?” He leveled a threatening stare at the screen which the AI seemed to possess. He picked up Puffy trying to contain her snickers but he ignored her in favor of turning up the threatening level in his gaze.

“I am required to report everything that happens in the lab to AweSamDude.”

“Nook. Are you in or out ?”

“As previously stated, I am required to report everything that happens in the lab to AweSamDude. I regret that I am not allowed to keep any secrets of what you are doing with his technology. However if you have any personal secrets that you do not wish for anyone to hear of I will gladly listen and keep them to myself.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, “but you are no longer part of the Shenanigans Club. You are henceforth banished for this betrayal.”

“As you wish, TommyInnit.”

>~=~<

“Your protective disguise is finished, TommyInnit!” they heard some hours later. Tommy set down his phone, abandoning the text he was drafting to send to Phil, and practically leaped through the door into the newly-dubbed ‘Machine Lair.’

"Thanks Big-" he cut himself off as he looked at the suit. " Puffy!" Tommy yelled, calling her into the Machine Lair. She came in, attempting to look innocent. He turned to fully face her. "Puffy this isn't my suit," he stated, gesturing to it. She nodded. "Puffy what did you do?"

The sheep hybrid whistled and began heading back out of the room. Tommy dragged her back by the arm.

"Nope, you're gonna explain what happened. This is a random one from my sketchbook! My suit was supposed to be a hoodie and cargo pants but cooler."

"That's exactly why I switched them, Tommy!" She put her hands on his shoulders. "I refuse to let you run around as a vigilante in a glorified hoodie. You'd be stealing Purpled's brand. And don't you think you'd be better off with something flashier?" Puffy implored. "Look, at least try it on, please? For your dear Aunt Puffy?"

"You're not my aunt," he grumbled.

"Well yes but I might as well be!" She countered. "Try it on."

Tommy stubbornly turned away from her.

"Tommy try on the suit." He spun around, eyes wide. That was her scary mom voice. Dream had warned him about it. He'd said that no one, no one , could challenge the scary mom™ voice. Tommy had heard stories of her taking down a villain using scary mom™ alone. And it wasn't even her power; she was a hybrid!

"Here, I'll wait out in the other room and you try on the suit. Tell me when you're done!" He was informed cheerily.

Tommy had no choice but to comply.

The sheep hybrid stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. He heard her mechanical leg whirring and hooves clicking as she walked away.

He turned to the suit on the table and shook his head, blond locks flopping side to side. The things he did for Puffy.

He recognized the suit as one he'd designed abou a year ago on a whim after watching The Greatest Showman during their movie night that month. The suit coat-vest-thing was inspired by the outfits in the circus; more specifically . It was dark red, sporting gold swirly accents on the collar, hem, and the things attaching it together. He wasn't sure exactly what they were called.

There was the pair of mid-calf length steel-toed boots and dark navy pants matching the color of the boots. After putting both on, he stuffed the pants inside the boots.

Only when he got to the top part of his body did he realize there was no shirt. However, not wanting to face the wrath of Puffy, he simply put the suit vest on over his green shirt, affectionately dubbed 'the Tubbo shirt.'

The last item was the hat, seeing as he already had on his gloves. It was a fedora, a shade darker than the vest. It proudly sported a black ribbon with a gold stripe running through the middle. He stuck it on his head, smushing straw-colored curls underneath.

Tommy walked out the door and into the other room, standing in front of Puffy who sat on the couch. She looked up at him and smiled. 

“You look great!” She did another look over him and the suit. “Oh, and…” she continued, drawing out the last word. Puffy stood up abruptly, searching for something around her before going over to the corner and grabbing something. She walked back, her cloven hooves clopping softly.

“You seem to be missing something.”

“You don’t say? I thought my outfit was complete!” Tommy, ever the dramatic, exclaimed in mock ignorance. His mentor grinned goofily at him. Puffy seemed to be doing a lot of grinning today, he noticed.

She tossed something white at his face. 

“Now, it’s complete. Put it on!”

Tommy pulled the fabric off his head. It smelled really nice, like flowers and hay and maple syru-

Wait.

This was one of Puffy’s shirts, wasn’t it?

It was, it totally was. “ Why would Puffy give me one of her shirts? And one from her hero days, no less?” he questioned internally.

She wasn’t in the room anymore either; he could hear her humming from the Machine Lair.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he sighed.

He shed the suit vest and quickly tugged on the shirt, snapping the hidden buttons together. He pulled the whatever-it-was (Tommy refused to call it a suit vest any longer) back on over it. 

Tommy called Puffy back again and asked her opinion. Honestly, this was getting a bit monotonous. 

A smile crept onto the sheep hybrid’s face as she ordered him to spin around. When he came to a halt, she walked to him and placed her hands on either side of his face.

“Tommy! You’re a mini me! Mini-Captain! You’ve even got my shirt on! You’re a Mini-Captain!” She was practically squealing. Tommy felt the tips of his ears get hot and he pulled himself out of Puffy’s grasp. “Let’s get you out on the field, aye?!”

Chapter Text

Tommy dragged himself into the house, swatting the door shut as he practically fell down through the front entrance. He somehow managed to land on the arm of the couch instead of the polished wood floor beneath his feet.

“I’m home,” he mumbled tiredly into the cushions, letting his eyes flutter shut. 

Distantly, Tommy heard footsteps crossing the floor coming towards him, and then strong arms wrapped around his body, lifting him up. He sighed as he buried his face into the shoulder of the person carrying him, the familiar scent of pine and vanilla surrounding him. Wilbur.

The blond sighed again, sinking deeper into his brother’s arms.

Wilbur might have ‘awwed.’ He wasn’t completely sure.

He was out before they even made it to the stairs.

>~=~<

Smoke. The smell of smoke permeated the air, bitter on his tongue and harsh on his throat. He walked cautiously down the wide street, avoiding rubble and debris. It was empty, and cold, and grey. The windows that were normally bright and clean at Eret’s boutique were dusty and cracked. Not to mention the silence. It cut through the atmosphere the same way a siren would. But you know, without the noise.

A cat yowled and dashed in front of him, rushing to hide underneath a dumpster down that alley. It was almost there, it was going to make it- 

And then it was shot down. He stared at the body in shock, watching as blood seeped through white fur, turning it rusty red. Tommy heard another shot go off, a blue bolt crossing just in front of his face, and realized he no longer had time to worry about the cat.

He fled down the street, zig-zagging his way past the debris he’d carefully sidestepped earlier. Ash clouded up, disturbed by hasty footsteps. It touched its gritty, foul hands to his teeth and tongue, turning his mouth sticky and dry.

Tommy’s power begged him to be used, and he called it forth.

He sped down one of a maze of alleys, not wasting a second before turning onto the next one, and the next. He turned at random, hoping to lose his attacker. Even though they wouldn’t be able to see him, it was better safe than sorry.

When he could no longer hear nor see any sign of the would-be murderer, Tommy slowed to a stop. He coughed once, twice, and then couldn’t stop. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees as his body tried to hack out his lungs.

Tears leaked unwillingly from his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. He heaved for air only to cough it back out again.

His throat burned. His stomach churned with a slight bit of nausea, and the stitch in his side was not helping. His legs ached. The warm hand on his back, however, soothed the tight muscles there as it rubbed circles into the space between his shoulders.

Wait- a hand?!

Tommy stiffened under the touch. That wasn’t right, no one was supposed to see him, no one was supposed to even be here! He- no one should be able to see him! Was it the would-be murderer? Had he been caught? His brain short circuited as his breathing somehow sped up even more than it was,

Then there was a pair of hands on his shoulders, a voice coming from in front of him, slightly panicked but soothing nonetheless. He was dimly aware of someone grabbing one of his hands, placing it against their chest. It rose and fell with exaggerated breaths, and he struggled to match it. 

“...which I have never met, are you okay there?” 

“I-” Tommy’s voice cracked, throat sore and dry. He was unable to put into words all that was happening and so elected to not say anything at all. He tugged on his power, bringing as much force as he could, and still the person could see him.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re okay, you’re fine, you’re just stuck in some random post-apocalyptic alley with someone you’ve never met before and I’m pretty sure there was a person shooting at you but they’re gone now.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s real comforting,” Tommy croaked out. He looked at the person in kneeling front of him. They--he? Looked nothing like what he’d expected. But to be completely honest, he wasn’t really sure what he had expected. The boy looked to be around his age. A dark purple cloak was draped around his (probably?) shoulders and body, the hood down. Tommy also observed that he had a black and white mask pulled down under his chin. Weird, rectangle-shaped, purple-tinted goggles- glasses? were pushed up to his brow, resting in tangled brown locks.

Tommy took a few more extra-deep breaths, attempting to remove the last dregs of tightness from his chest.

The weird, no-longer-quite-as-mysterious guy quirked an awkward smile. “Thanks, I try my best.” It sounded genuine, but Tommy didn’t like the amusement hidden underneath. He narrowed his eyes. “Hey, what’s- uh- what’s your name?”

“First tell me your name, tell me why you can see me, and then I’ll consider answering your question.” In Tommy’s not-so-humble opinion, there was something very sus about this lanky prick.

“You- you do realize that I’m not some sort of fae or anything. LIke, I can’t hurt you by knowing your name.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. He shifted on his knees. “What’s your name, and how can you see me?”

The other sighed in defeat. “I’m Ranboo. I kind of- I sort of dream walk. I go into other people’s dreams without meaning to. This is your dream, and my subconscious wanted me here for a reason. So I guess I kind of have to see you. Neither of us really get a choice.”

“Ranboob? What sort of a name is that?”

“No, no, it’s Ran boo. Not Ran boob .”

“Meh, meh, meh, my name is Ranboob and I have dumb mysterious dream powers that I can’t control!”

“That’s- that is just not factually correct. It’s not correct at all, actually. I can control my ability just fine!”

Tommy shifted to be sitting criss-cross applesauce instead of on his knees. After a few seconds of fidgeting and Ranboo sitting there watching him he stilled, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. “Then how come you can’t control where you go?”

“I could if I wanted to! It’s just that if I don’t have a specific destination in mind, it’ll sometimes take me into the dream of a random person. This person is usually important in the near or immediate future. It’s kinda like really sketchy prophecy, in a way.”

“Ranboob doesn’t have a good ability, methinks,” Tommy monologued to no one in particular. Maybe to the grey, smoke-filled sky. Speaking of which, Tommy was pretty fairly positive that SehmP was not ashy or smoky, last time he’d checked. And Ranboo’s ability was dreamwalking- “Wait, this is a dream?!”

“ Yes. Yes it is a dream. Obviously. I’m real, and you hopefully are as well, but the rest is very much not.”

“That would explain the maybe serial killer and the dead city then,” the blond mused.

“I- yeah, I suppose that would, in fact, explain the killer and the city.”

They both sat in the eerie stillness for a while, silence falling around them like a blanket.

“So I-”

“You never-” They both began to speak at the same time.

“Uh- you go first,” Ranboo invited, gesturing with his hand. Tommy nodded.

“My name is Tommy,” he said, “So uhh... yeah. What were you going to say?”

“I was just gonna ask your name I guess. So… great minds think alike?”

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Boob Boy.”

“Hey! I told you already- my name is Ran boo !” The teen spluttered. 

“Again, whatever helps you sleep at night, Ranboob.”

Ranboo sent a lighthearted glare his way before shaking his head, glasses (goggles?) sliding down to rest on the middle of his forehead. Tommy giggled as he sighed in exasperation, fixing the purple lenses back in place on top of his head. They let it slide into quiet again, this time comfortable instead of awkward.

The silence was the only reason Tommy heard it. Judging by the twitching of Ranboo’s pointed ears, he gathered that the other must have picked up on it too. Footsteps, above them, moving quickly closer. The comfortable silence went rigid in an instant, taught with near-palpable tension. The footsteps stopped moving. Ranboo shifted to get up, but Tommy stopped him with an arm in front of his chest.

‘I’ll handle it,’ he mouthed to his companion. He turned his blue gaze up to the area where they’d last heard the footsteps.

There. A blue hood, red eyes glowing beneath it. Tommy shoved the thread away from them.

The figure glanced over the alley, not seeming to find anything. They took off, the blue hood disappearing after a few seconds.

Tommy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Well, I guess that’s enough excitement for one day don’t you think?”

He’d just finished the sentence when a glowing blue whatever it was appeared in his peripheral. Ranboo lunged, wrapping his arms around his waist.

Everything tipped and bended and then was gone.

>~=~<

Tommy woke up to sun shine straight on his face, completely blinding him. He brought a hand up to his eyes, blocking it out and turning the pale flesh red.

It was Voidwalker, wasn’t it?

Huh.

Chapter Text

Tommy would say that today’s training with Puffy had gone well. They’d worked on figuring out the features of the suit and the disks, and getting him used to wearing the material while fighting. 

He was sore all over, but that wasn’t important right now. It was his first night on the streets!

Puffy had given him the okay, although she’d purposefully sent him out on a Thursday. She didn’t want him getting involved on Fridays and Saturdays, although it was complete ba-log-na in his opinion.

He’d been training and learning from her for over five years. He was capable! Tommy let out a huff, surveying the couple of blocks laid out before him. The air was deathly still, with not even the faintest of breezes. The result was hot, heavy city air. Not fun.

The piece of tech in his ear crackled and shrieked for a moment, eliciting a yelp from him. He grabbed it and tore it out, dropping it on the flat roof before him. 

“ Tommy? Tommy! Is this thing on?” He could hear Puffy’s voice coming all the way from where the earpiece sat on the ground. It emitted another shriek.

No one had ever claimed that his mentor was tech-savvy.

He winced as yet another shriek came from the tinny speaker in the device while he stooped to pick it up.

“Puffy,” he spoke into it, holding down the button on the side. “Puffy,” the vigilante sighed as she continued to ramble loudly. “Captain Puffy!” He yelled at her, “You’ve scared off every pigeon and would-be criminal within a five-block radius and practically murdered my ears, quiet down!”

The sound coming from the earpiece came small and garbled; volume finally dialed down. Tommy figured that he’d be okay to put it back on at this point, and adjusted the pale item back into his ear.

“Tommy is this better?” the sheep hybrid’s voice came through much easier than earlier.

“Yes, it’s so much better. Never do that again, please.”

“Is that sass I hear in your tone, golden boy?”

“Who, me? Of course not, I would never disrespect my elders like that.”

“You just wait till you get back, young man, I’ll whip you with my old crutch into next Tuesday. Anyways, for today, you’re not, absolutely not, doing very much. It’s your first night out. So maybe some minor crime stopping such as muggings, and helping drunk people find their way home. Stuff like that”

“That’s it?!”

A funny-sounding woosh came through and Tommy figured it was probably a sigh of exasperation. “You’re literally 17 and it’s your first day on the job so yes, that’s it.”

“Also, who’s gonna be drunk enough to need help getting home? It’s a Thursday.”

“People who have a lot of problems in their life, including but not limited to tragic break-ups, dealing with the loss of a loved one, a midlife crisis, or good old depression and misery.”

“Fair enough.”

>~=~<

Taking down petty criminals, Tommy reasoned, would be fairly simple.

He was right.

The guy on the ground in front of him, bleeding from a broken nose, was taken down in two hits; a hook to the temple and a knee to the face.

It was kind of pathetic, honestly. 

He sighed and grabbed a couple of zip ties Puffy’d insisted he keep tucked in one of the many pockets on the inside of his vest-thing and kneeled down next to the would-be car thief. The dude was huge, he barely fit one around his wrists and he’d had to put a different zip tie around each of his ankles and link them together.

Tommy tucked the remaining zip ties back in his pocket. He was like Carmen Sandiego, he thought, with all the stuff in his vest-thing. 

Ha, pockets.

“Tommy, I know you’re a bit of an idiot, but really? Yes, yes you have pockets.”

He actually said it out loud, apparently.

“Tommy, you-” The vigilante tuned her out and whatever advice she was trying to give him, focusing instead on trying to hoist up the unconscious man on the ground.

After a few minutes of struggling, he gave up and dropped the guy on the ground, panting. He was heavy, and not only that, hard to pick up in a way that he could carry him.

“Puffy, help.”

“I’m retired. You figure this out yourself.”

“Puffy please,” he begged, drawing out the e.

“Part of being a vigilante is learning to be resourceful. Figure it out yourself.”

Tommy groaned, dragging his hands down his face. His ‘super-phone,’ as he’d dubbed it (although really it was just an advanced smart watch) was strapped to his wrist and he felt the small screen press coolly against his neck. 

Hmm. That’d probably work.

>~=~<

Tommy sat on top of the streetlight and observed the chaos below. Red and blue lights flashed across the walls of buildings, and curtains moved as curious residents peered on the activities below. Because of the nature of his call, multiple policemen and cars were present. They scoured the area, probably searching for him. What a debut!

“Tommy. Tommy, what did you do?”

Tommy stubbornly ignored his mentor. He was having too much fun watching the police move about like a herd of cats.

“Tommy, I’m getting alerts from the police department of a possible vigilante in your area. Tommy, pay attention. This is serious.”

“Nah, I’m watching the police fail to find me, it’s funny.” An officer opened the lid to a dumpster, and out jumped a raccoon, hissing and clawing at their face. Tommy laughed, hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, even though they wouldn’t be able to hear it.

“Tommy. You are a bad, bad child.”

“I’m just- hey, I’m not a child!”

Tommy turned his attention back to the streets below him. A shadow moved in between the cars, flashing lights distorting the colors.

The (person?) stopped by one, talking to what Tommy assumed was the leader of the ‘find the vigilante’ operation. The headlights from the police car illuminated them and he got a good view of the person.

Tommy cursed quietly.

“Tommy? What’s going on?”

“It’s, uh, it’s Wilbur,” he told her, nervously adjusting his grip on the metal below him.

“What about Wilbur?”

“No it’s Wil. He’s here .” Tommy stood up, jumping from the streetlight to the side of the brick building and crawling up the wall like a raccoon.

Puffy slowly let out a breath. “You need to get out of there. Now.”

“Already working on it,” he told her, grunting as he pulled himself up onto the roof of the building.

“Like, now now. However fast you’re going, get faster.”

“Why, what’s wrong? They can’t see me anyways.”

“I think they’re sending Warden. You need to get out just in case he somehow sees you; he might be able know we made the suit with his tech.

Tommy sighed but pushed his legs to go faster, practically flying. He jumped onto the top of a streetlight thing, slowing down to balance carefully while crossing it. From the end he made his way onto another pole and to the roofs on the other side of the road.

He stopped in the park near his neighborhood, perching himself in the branches of a random tree. “Do you want me to go home, or should I stay out and keep doing stuff?”

“Go home, Tommy, it’s too dangerous for you to be out right now. You can’t be seen and even with your abilities we still need to take every precaution,” she sighed.

He went home.

>~=~<

Now, Tommy never claimed to be smart. If he was, he wouldn’t have been in the predicament he found himself in currently.

Chapter Text

He really should’ve thought this out. He knew for a fact that Phil was sitting in his spinny chair (affectionately dubbed the Mafia Dad Chair by his three sons) in the living room like a mafia boss, waiting for him to come home. He’d already snuck in through his bedroom window, silently opening it and crawling through before shutting it just as quietly. He’d hidden his suit in between the mattress and box springs of his bed and changed back into civilian clothes.

The problem was, Phil was still waiting for him like a mafia boss in the living room. Tommy couldn’t hide forever .

But maybe just for tonight?

No, he’d be in even more trouble come morning. 

Tommy crept back out the window, down the roof, and onto the ground in the flower bed. He went up the porch steps and grabbed onto the post supporting the roof, swinging around it straight to the front door. 

He dug into the dirt of the thrice-broken pot by the door and finally, his fingers touched smooth, cold metal. He grabbed it and pulled it out. The gold key was coated in dirt and grit in some places, but it still worked when he 

Tentatively, quietly, he eased it open. He poked his head through the opening, blond fluff falling to the side as his head was tilted.

Phil was still facing the other way in his spinny mafia chair. 

This is absolutely pointless, the voice in his head told him. Tommy ignored it; he was well aware of that fact already.

He took a quiet step inside, then eased the rest of his body through the door.

Tommy’d taken about three steps towards the stairs when Phil turned around in his Mafia Dad chair.

“Tommy,” he called at his son’s retreating form.

Tommy gulped and turned around slowly. “Philza! Dadza! Father of Crows, Crow Father! How are you on this fine…. uhhh… day?” He brought his hands together behind his back, fidgeting with his fingers as he often did when rambling.

“Tommy it’s 12:37 A.M.”

“Okayyyy… night? Very early morning?” he said, digging himself in a deeper hole.

“Tommy,” Phil warned.

“Yikes. Okay uh, I can tell you’re… not very happy at me disappearing without telling you where I was going, and showing up back here very late.”

“I wouldn’t say very upset. I would just really like to know where you were and why you were gone so long,” Phil tapped his steepled fingers together. “You made me worry.”

“Ah- look I’m really sorry, I went to Tubbo’s and forgot to tell you and we lost track of time. Please don’t take away my dessert rights?” He pleaded, bouncing on his toes.

“You didn’t say anything about your Tubbo rights…” Phil pondered, trying and failing to hide a smile.

Tommy’s face morphed into a look of mock horror. “You- you wouldn’t, you couldn’t, please Phil not my Tubbo Time!” He spluttered.

“I don’t know, safety seems more important that Tubbo Time, don’t you think?” he tilted his head to the side.

Tommy got onto his knees and clasped his hands in front of his chest, shuffling over in front of Phil. “Please, Philza Minecraft, biggest of men, surely you must understand how vital Tubbo Time is to the survival of your favorite son.”

He gave a sigh as if to concede, and Tommy watched with hopeful eyes as his dad released his fingers from their steeple and put his hands in his lap. “Tommy, please don’t do that again. I got a bit worried, especially after Wilbur was called out on duty to the district Tubbo lives in.

Tommy leaned back on his heels and sighed as well. “I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“The great TommyInnit not being right and being sorry? That’s not just a first, that’s two firsts!” 

“Wil-buuuurrr! We were having a moment! ” Tommy complained. 

“Ignore him, he just thinks he’s cool because he’s a superhero  and saves people, and the general population adores him,” Phil stage whispered. “I need to talk to your brother,”

“Your amazing brother,” Wilbur interjected, causing both blonds to roll their eyes.

“Your brother,” Phil continued, shooting him a lighthearted glare, “who is an overdramatic fool. So go to your room, and I know you’re seventeen and oh-so-cool but please get to bed, you still need sleep.”

Tommy huffed, standing up and heading towards the stairs “Ah- please don’t take away my Tubbo Time?” he asked, offering a feeble grin. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With the confirmation, Tommy scurried up the stairs, not unlike the raccoon that’d jumped one of the police officers. He couldn’t help the sudden rush of giddiness that enveloped him, causing him to launch himself up over the last step and slide down the hall on sock feet. He stopped himself before he slid into his room, however, having learned that lesson a few years back.

Carpet isn’t something you should try sliding on in sock feet, especially not when you’ve already got the force of momentum behind you.

He closed the door behind him with a gentle click.

As it turned out, Tommy speculated as he changed into pajamas, it didn’t feel like much had changed.

The house was the same.

Phil was the same.

His room was the same.

His clothes were the same.

Somehow, Tommy’d expected the whole universe to somehow shift with his first patrol. He’d expected the world to be different, to match his altered view and new role. It was both disappointing and relieving to find that everything else was the same. 

Aaaaaand that was where we end the deep thoughts TM for the night. There were more important things to do than have a mini existential crisis: eavesdropping on his brother and dad was one of them. Tommy silently crept out onto the landing, going 'invis' as he did so. He laid down on his stomach, propped up by his elbows, and watched them through the bars of the railing.

"...And on top of all of it, Dad, Sam's been acting weird, too! He shows up for work and stuff but never texts anyone anymore, not even Puffy! I know cause I've been asking around, and not to mention that when I went to him to get a tear in my suit fixed, he barely batted an eye, just... did it. He didn't immediately jump in and be like 'Ooooh while I have this I might as well make the coat fireproof' or anything like that like he usually does! He was just like, 'Okay Wil, you can come back in a couple hours to collect your coat, it should be done by then.' Tell me that's not even a little concerning!"

Tommy left, creeping silently back to his room and closing the door as quietly as possible. That was enough spying for one night. He flopped down on his bed, questions flooding his brain. Was Sam okay? Come to think of it, Sam Nook had fully disclosed that he would be informing Sam about he and Puffy's use of his tools. Why hadn't the hero confronted either of them about it?

He stewed it over and over, running ideas through his mind, and found no answer. Tommy was at a loss for whatever was going on, but he knew something was fishy about the situation. However long he would have stayed up for puzzling, though, eventually exhaustion from the night's activities dragged at him and he fell asleep still searching for answers.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed without any major incident. Tommy had done some more vigilante-ing, stopping a couple of common thieves and quickly adapting to his new side hustle. Puffy was giving him a little more freedom, letting him schedule his own patrols. She’d also removed herself mostly from the equation, quitting her temporary job as ‘man in the chair.’ It was reassuring to know, however, that she was always a single emergency button away.

Thank goodness Tommy graduated this spring. He only had about 5 months until he turned eighteen and a semester and a half left of school before he graduated. Then, both he and his schedule would be a bit freer.

And then, he could enroll in the hero recruitment program the next fall! Where most people’s childhood aspirations end just there, childhood, an 11-year-old Tommy had never let go of the idea after Wilbur was accepted into the program. And the more he got into the world and the idea, being allowed in some parts of the complex, lessons with Puffy, learning about the equipment, the more invested he became.

Which led to the current day and age. Tommy being a vigilante was something he’d never expected, but once he got into it he only became more invested. It was fun. Not only was it fun to look cool with a suit pulled straight out of the Greatest Showman and powerful glowey disc weapons, he got to both do good and break the law at the same time.

Now that he thought about it, that kinda made it sound like he didn’t understand how serious, how dangerous of a job it was. He did. But why do a job if you get no enjoyment or fulfillment from it?

“Tommy, what are you doing?” And there was Wilbur, gallivanting into the kitchen like he owned the place.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tommy retorted, hurriedly scooping up a large spoonful of frosted flakes and shoving it in his mouth.

Eugh, they were all soggy. Gross.

“Not eating. You’ve been staring at the wall for the past fifteen minutes.” Why did Wilbur have to sound so smug, even as he filled a mug of coffee and looked like death warmed over?

“Maybe I just like the wall. It’s not your place to question my ways, peasant.” Tommy could see even with his brother’s back turned the way Wilbur tensed at that, neck and spine stiffening. It was probably– no, definitely– the wrong thing to say. Actually, Tommy recognised that hoodie. It was Wilbur’s having-a-bad-time-but-at-least-my-clothes-are-soft hoodie. “Bad morning?”

“You could say that.” As Tommy suspected. His thoughts were confirmed by Wilbur’s face as he turned around. He had mildly dark circles under his eyes, contrasting his paler-than-usual face. His hair was a mess, frizzy and hanging down in his face. Something much bigger than a bad morning was going on. 

“What happened to you, big dubs?”

“Is it that bad?” Wilbur joked half heartedly.

“Wii-illlll! Don’t mess with me!”

“I’m fine, Tommy, really. Don’t bother with it.” With those words, Wilbur left the kitchen, probably to go to work or to his room slash office. Hmm. As if, he was obviously not fine. However, Wilbur was obviously firm on it and in his state of emotional mess he would undoubtedly snap if Tommy followed him and continued to pester.

Tommy took an absentminded bite of his soggy cereal and instantly spit it back into the bowl. Disgusting. There was only one thing to do with soggy cereal

>~=~<

Techno re-entered his room to see Tommy criss-crossed on the ground, watching as Floof lapped up soggy frosted flakes from a bowl.

“Tommy, are you poisoning my dog?” Not likely, however, you just never can know with this kid.

Instead of responding, like an innocent (or maybe not so innocent) person, Tommy scooped Floof up in his arms and ran. He stumbled on his way out but righted himself just in time for Techno to stick out his foot and trip the blond. Another victory for The Blade.

Tommy seemed to twist midair, protecting Floof from being crushed, but the result was a head-meets-floor situation, accompanied by a painful sounding thud.

“Tommy?” Techno poked him with a sock-clad foot. “Tommy, you alive?” 

Floof crawled out of the teen’s arms and began licking his face. 

Ha. Tommy would smell like dog breath when he woke up. That was a massive L.

>~=~<

Tommy  threw his right disc, Mellohi (the tranquilizer one), at one of the blue masked attackers near the door to the classroom. It barely grazed past the exposed skin of their forearm, but that was enough. They were out before they hit the ground. The disc returned to the notch on his glove and back to a small circle and he focused on his other opponents. The ones closest to him, he took care of with a bit of disappear-and-strike technique, tripping a few others over desks and chairs as he went. Once they were out of the way, Tommy engaged his discs again, tapping the glowing circles to expand them. He flung them in the direction of the majority without any specific targets in mind.

Time almost seemed to slow down as he grabbed (mentally) golden strands of attention from around him, manipulating them around or cutting them off completely to keep the discs out of notice. It did as intended, no one realizing the discs were there until there were a couple of collapsing bodies and scraps of metal stopped floating around.

Tommy climbed on top of a high bookshelf in the room, going unnoticed once again by design.

Time sped up a bit again as his discs were realized and his assailants spread out in panic, looking for the things that hadn’t appeared until a moment too late.

He held up his hands and the discs returned to their spots on his gloves, blades retracting.

The best of the joys of crime fighting was messing with the wrongdoer. Tommy found it hilarious to observe their search for him grow more and more frantic the longer they couldn’t find him. Any time one started looking in his direction, he carefully redirected the attention to a spot on the wall near him. They would never find him at this rate. Ha.

One of the people, seeming to have a strength enhancement of sorts, accidentally broke the teacher’s aquarium. Water, pebbles, decorative plants and fish houses (as well as some ten-odd fish) spilled everywhere.

And that’s where Tommy was going to call it a day– night?– whatever it was. He climbed down carefully from the bookshelf (the poor teacher would have a hard enough time cleaning up their classroom as is, without more wreckage from the Showstopper), ready to finish the job, when who showed up?

Ranboo. Boob man. Voidwalker. That’s who.

He just… appeared. Straight outta thin air, like in a bad TV show. And then proceeded to vanquish half the nondescript bad guys that should’ve been Tommy’s. That was completely uncalled for. He huffed (grateful, again, that there was no mask hindering his breath) and helped the other vigilante clear out the rest of the trash.

Tommy then elected to give Voidwalker– Ranboob– a piece of his mind. “What were you doing, man? I was fine, you probably know, of course, because I reckon this is another dream innit? You had to know I was doing fine! Why did you decide it was a good idea to interfere?!” He exclaimed, hands gesturing erratically. The other flinched as Tommy took a step forward, and he realized he’d accidentally triggered Mellohi. Oops.

“Well, I uh…” Ranboo trailed off. He backed up a few steps, standing by the window.

“Spit it out, man. Why are you still asleep anyways, it’s like 10 am innit?”

Ranboo seemed to ignore the last comment. He removed his hood, mask, and goggles, exposing his face. And oh, did Boob Man look guilty. Now Tommy felt bad. “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Tommy was quick to apologise, happy to see Ranboo’s shoulders beginning to loosen a bit. “But you did kinda come in out of nowhere. Why are you here?”

“I don’t know, I just ended up here. Like last time.” The vigilante explained, “I don’t always choose where I go. Didn’t I explain this to you last time?” He had. He had, in fact, and yeah, Tommy really felt bad now. Was he that scary, or was Ranboo just jumpy? “I think my subconscious led me here this time though. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Just haven’t had the chance yet. Well– until now, I guess, if you want?”

The blond nodded hesitantly. Ranboo grinned, opening the window he was standing near and crawling out onto the roof. He motioned for Tommy to follow.

When Tommy got out the window, Ranboo sent him the absolute smuggest grin, Wilbur levels of smugness, and teleported onto a different roof a couple buildings over. Never one to back down from a challenge, Tommy began a careful dance across telephone wires and street lamps in between each roof to get to where the teleporter was.

Such a task sounded much easier than it was, but Tommy had a few years of experience. When he reached the destination, Ranboo helped haul him up over the edge. 

“Wow, that was really fast! Were you trained, maybe?” 

It was a genuine question, but Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted for Ranboo to know the answer as to who, exactly, he’d been trained by, so he kept it vague. “Yeah, a bit. Maybe we should sit down somewhere, aye?”

Ranboo (the guy was so awkward, how was he this socially perceptive?) noticed and didn’t ask anything else about that particular topic. They did indeed find a place to sit, feet dangling over the ledge they were seated on.

Tommy was surprised at how well he and Ranboo got on. The guy was taller than him, for crying out loud!

“You asked a question,” Tommy brought up when their conversation slowed to silence, “so I reckon now I should ask one. What’s your power, exactly? The general public thinks it’s teleportation, but you can obviously invade people’s minds like some sort of dream parasite.” He kicked his heels against the wall, watching the weak light of the dream sun shine dully on his boots as they moved.

“Ah well, it’s sort of like uhhh… I can teleport. That’s literally all there is to it, really, but when I’m asleep my mind teleports instead of my whole body? It’s weird.” Ranboo offered with an I-really-am-not-sure-either shrug. His hair ruffled a lot in the wind, Tommy noticed. A random detail.

The powers thing only made a bit more sense than it had before, but Tommy’s turn was up. 

“This might take a while to get to the actual question, sorry about that, but:" Ranboo paused, probably for dramatic effect, because this dude was definitely a dollar store brand Wilbur. "So you’re Showstopper, huh? It sorta makes sense. And I also know why I ended up in your dream a few weeks ago.” Again with the dramatic pauses! Did he want Tommy to die on the spot, or something?

Tommy’s impatience made its presence known and he couldn’t help but asking, “Why?” He leaned in a bit closer in anticipation. Ranboo was running a hand nervously through his hair, which made Tommy worried. Was it something really bad?

“Wow, this is really nerve wracking actually. Uhhh... yeah no I just need to ask now, don't I? Otherwise it'll just be more and more stressful and then I'll never be able to do it, that's not good." Tommy was pretty sure the purple caped teen next to him was just talking to himself now. 

"Yo, Ranboo. Voidwalker. Not-really-stranger dream dude. Just ask the question, big man! Unless you're wanting to ask me out, in which case I'd have to respond by telling you the tales of my many wives and women."

Ranboo dragged his hands over his face and sighed. "It's 'cause I think we’re supposed to team up.” Ranboo made jazz hands, offering up a nervous smile. “Surprise?”

So apparently not 'bad,' per se, just something that'd be, to quote Ranboo, 'nerve wracking' to ask someone. And oh. Oh. This was a lot to take in at once. “Okay, gimme a sec, I need to process what you just said. I’m not sure that I can team up with a man who has ‘boob’ in his name.”

“Tommy!” the black haired teen sighed in exasperation, “My name is Ran boo, not Ran boob. You know this!” He made for shoving Tommy off the ledge, who responded by punching his companion in the arm. Ranboo glared at him, rubbing his arm and groaning in mock pain,

“Okay, okay, But seriously, I need a bit. Talk to you later maybe?” This was probably his best option. Tommy’s impulsive decisions never seemed to end up well, and with something like this it was definitely important to think it through.

“Yeah, see you whenever I see you.”

>~=~<

Technoblade kept an eye on his brother for the rest of the day, watching as he finished some homework at the kitchen table, observing as he played Minecraft with Tubbo, and kicking serious butt in Monopoly with him.

Tommy didn’t have a concussion, was the eventual conclusion. Yeah, he’d passed the test after waking up, but one could never be too careful. In the words of Sun Tzu, ‘ The enlightened ruler is heedful, and the good general full of caution.’  

Tommy also did not know that Techno was spying on him, because he’d be sure to throw a fit about so-called ‘mother henning.’ 

Techno continued to observe his brother after he went to bed, sitting outside his door, when he heard it. The screech of a window sliding open, someone squeezing through the opening. A couple muttered curses as something probably got caught on something else.

Ah. That explained a lot, actually. Thank goodness Wilbur and Phil weren’t back yet.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up to his alarm, the distorted tune at full volume and screeching through the speaker. He opened his eyes, immediately choosing the nope route and closing them again when he saw that the light coming through the curtains was dim and definitely not ' it’s noon, you really should be awake right now.'  He groaned and brought up a hand to paw around the surface of the bedside table.

When Tommy finally found his phone, he grabbed it and brought it up to his face, cracking an eye open for a second to turn the alarm off.

With a sigh, he let the phone drop somewhere on the bed and curled back up under the covers. 

The moment was ruined when, not even a minute later, Wilbur somehow picked the lock and burst into his room, announcing his presence with a disgusting “Good morning, Sunshine!”

Tommy groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut. Wilbur responded by turning on his light and opening the curtains to the window.

Tommy sacrificed warmth for one moment, lifting his hand out from under the covers to flip his brother off. Wilbur retaliated by ripping off all the blankets.

“Wilbur! Oh my god, get out! I’ll get up when I feel like it!”

“But Tomm- yyy, I’ll be sad if I don’t get to have my favorite little brother with me on ‘bring your sibling to work’ day!” Wilbur whined. He activated his puppy eyes, still holding the sheets and blankets. The effect was ruined by the impish grin on his face.

Right. Tommy’d forgotten about that– he knew there’d been a reason his alarm was set so early! (Well, he didn’t actually. But who could say he was wrong?) He sat up, crossing his legs. “Gimme twenty minutes to get ready, okay? Out, Wilbur.” He pointed at the door.

His twenty-four year old brother pouted, jutted lower lip and everything. 

“Careful, a bird might land on that.”

“Tommy Isn’t It, your cheek betrays you.” Wilbur paused dramatically, finger pointed in the air and brown eyes analyzing him coldly through wire-rimmed glasses. “Trust me when I say to you this: I will not fall for it. You may think you have the upper hand, but truly, you will never win against me in anything, and certainly not a battle of wits.”

“Yeah, yeah, theater kid, get out!” Tommy retorted, as though he wasn’t somewhat of a theater kid himself. Wilbur left without complaint, but not before sending the most obnoxious, blindingly sunshine-y, soft smile his way.

Eugh– familial affection. It made him all soft and sunshine-y inside, like Wilbur’s smile. 

And now he was faced with the age-old question: what to wear? Tommy stood in front of his closet and glared at the clothes as though they’d offended him.

“Tommy, you’d better not spend too much time on your clothing choices only to wear jeans and a hoodie again! We’re on a time crunch!” Wilbur’s voice came muffled through the walls.

Unfortunately, Wilbur was right. Tommy’s mild interest in styles ( Branding, he’d insist, was important when designing costumes for both heroes and villains), compelled him to at the very least consider the options before him, but he always ended up choosing comfortable and easy in the end. 

Wilbur yelled something indiscernible from across the house. It was beginning to get annoying, and Tommy was nothing if not spiteful. And maybe…

He opened the Notes app on his phone, clicking on one titled ‘the half-wilburification of Tommy Innit-Watson.’  

>Tge shirt Wil doesnt know about (evil laughs go here)

>zip up red hoodie with the white sleeves pog?

>cak kakhi khaki looking jeans—pants? Whatever

>Red converse

>maybe trade contacts for glasses

>hes gonna get a really stupid look on his face and it will be funny

>~=~<

Tommy made his way to the bathroom, speedrunning the process of brushing his teeth and combing out his hair.

He glanced at himself in the mirror one more time, checking his notes off as he did so: glasses instead of contacts, the right pair of pants– or were they jeans? He still wasn’t sure...red converse, swag zip-up hoodie. And, of course, the Ambience comic panel on full display on the blue-grey shirt. He snorts as he studies it again.

He took a few deep breaths, schooling his mirth-filled features to calm and unreadable. Tommy had the best poker face; how could he not when he had Techno for a brother?

He ran a hand down his face, trying to get the last bits of smugness off. After a couple more deep breaths and a small snicker, he threw caution to the wind and stepped out.

“Wil, put down your lucky charms and let’s go!” he called into the house.

“How do you know I’m eating lucky charms, huh? What if it’s, I don’t know, frosted flakes? Do you like Tony the Tiger, Tommy?” Wilbur began, voice muffled by cereal in his mouth as he came out of the kitchen. “‘Cause he’s on this box, Tommy Innit-Watson, you can have it if you want. Cut out good old Tony the Tiger, Tommy, pin him on the board on your wall.” He was offered the empty Frosted Flakes box.

“Are you insane? I reckon so, Wilbur, I reckon you’re crazy.” 

Wilbur smiled down at him, all fond like he was a child , and shoved the offending blue box at him. He swallowed the cereal he’d been chewing on and grabbed Tommy’s arm, dragging him towards the door to the garage. “I’m afraid you’re right, Tommy,” He informed as he started the car. “I’ve gone crazy with love, for Sally the Salmon. Oh, my heart, it aches every moment I’m away from her.” 

They backed out from the garage and onto the road, making it quickly onto the highway. Tommy rolled his eyes as Wilbur continued his soliloquy. “Please, Tommy, hurry, we have to get to my office at the tower. There she is waiting for me, my love, in all her shiny-scaled glo–” 

“Wilbur! Wilbur, the light! The- the cars!” Tommy screeched. 

They were approaching the red light and the cars stopped at it head-on, Wilbur being too distracted by his speech on the beauty and grace of Sally to notice. At Tommy’s yells, he slammed on the brakes. A squeal came from the car’s tires as it was brought to an abrupt halt.

Tommy sat, shaking, even after the car was stopped. 

“Wil?”

“Yeah, Tommy?” 

“Can we please never do that again?” Tommy gulped down a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The panic seemed far too great for a mere five to ten seconds of peril.

“Y-yeah, yes, we can– we can definitely not do that again. In fact, I’d rather prefer if we just never drove anywhere again at this point. I’ll get you a bike for Christmas, with a big ugly red bow that has leopard print on it, and then maybe you can get me one too, and we can just ride them everywhere.”

They spent the rest of the car ride in a denial of sorts, talking and joking with music in the background like nothing had happened while they worked to calm the adrenaline that came with almost dying.

It seemed to Tommy as if he blinked a few times and then they were there. The heroes’ complex loomed over them, four stories tall. It was still as intimidating as if it’d been, say, a tower, despite its shorter stature. He sat in anticipation, drumming his fingers on the armrest. When combined, anticipation and near death experiences seemed to crash together and make for a lot of jitters.

“Tommy, I need you calm down. You’re gonna make us crash into a pole or something if you keep doing that!” Wilbur pointed out. A quick glance around revealed him to be right: golden threads signifying focus wound everywhere, at least three or four thin ones coming from Wilbur himself and waving erratically, switching between different things.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Wil.” Tommy closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths: in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, like Phil always told them. He focused on the thrumming of his powers in the back of his mind and did his best to narrow the outpour. 

When Tommy opened his eyes again, things were a lot calmer, Wilbur being able to actually focus on driving again. The security guard glared at him from 

They drove up to the entrance and Wilbur rolled his window down at the gesture from the security guard.

“Charlie, how are you?” Wilbur accentuated the question with a wink.

“Hello, Wilbur from Middle L’Manburg near the park with the treehouse! I’m doing as right as rain, just like the human expression says! I need to use the eyeball tool to make sure you have the correct seyeballs in your head made of bones so you can park your dirty car.” Charlie leaned in through the window, holding the device out in a way that would be threatening, had it been anyone else. 

Wilbur made a noise of protest against the jab at the state of his car. Charlie didn’t seem to care, though, and so he shifted to let the green-tinged man shine the blue light pen at his eyes. 

Tommy stared in wonderment at the device– he may not have been able to actually create technology like it but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be fascinated. When the scan was complete, the scanner made a cheerful four-note tune in confirmation. Charlie straightened and put the scanner back in a loop in his belt. “Do you have anyone else with you?”

“Oh– right, ah, yes! I have Tommy with me,” Wilbur got out, scrambling his words up again. (In the background, Tommy facepalmed. Wilbur was one of the most scatterbrained people he knew, topped only by Ranboo.) Wilbur capped the information off with a grin regardless.

Charlie leaned over slightly to look through the window of the Armada. “Oh! Hello to you, too, Tommy Innit-Watson from Nowhere! You are here for bring your child or sibling to work day, yes?”

Tommy nodded, flashing the green man a thumbs-up. “Yeah, would you imagine? I had to come or Wilbur would be upset and cry.”

“Hey! I wou–” Tommy reached over and covered Wilbur’s mouth with his hand. “He totally would, Charlie, he would go off the rails crazy. That’s why I’m here.”

Wilbur licked Tommy’s hand. Tommy, familiar with the move as were the whole family, ignored it.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here to keep him from blowing up part of the building. We wouldn’t want another L’Manhole incident. You need to hurry inside though, big things are happening today!”

‘L’Manhole?’ Tommy mouthed at Wilbur, still covering his mouth. Wilbur shook his head, but Tommy felt him grin under his hand.

Wilbur continued to struggle, eventually just punching the blond in the face.

“Oi! What was that for?” Wilbur, straightening, just fixed his collar and flipped him off.

“Thanks, Charlie, we’ll see you later.” Tommy waved to the guard behind Wilbur’s head as Wilbur rolled up the window. They drove down into the tunnel to the parking garage.

Behind them, Charlie waved back at the retreating car before going back into his little security hut.

>~=~<

“Okay, Tommy, this is the first floor of the central bit of this building. In this area is where most of the guest stuff goes down. There’s the main office behind us, which we just went through. This, where we’re standing, is the very large hallway with multiple purposes. It’s been used as a conference room, a ballroom, the hall for Orientation Night– that’s kinda like eight grade night at a high school.”

“Wil, I’ve been here before. I know what and where all this is–”

“Hush, child. Anyways, Sam told me that the year before I joined, Sapnap was doing cartwheels through here during Orientation Night and Dream startled him, and he fell and–” Wilbur wheezed, “A-and he– fire everywhere, Tommy! Sam’s tech booth just– whoosh! He even– he even singed Dream’s favorite hoodie!” Wilbur burst into the high, trickling laughs he was known for, bending over and slapping his knee repeatedly.

After staring at his messed-up brother for a few seconds, Wilbur’s jumbled recount clicked in Tommy’s brain and he too erupted into laughter.

“Wilbur! Wilbur, you’d better not be sharing that story again! That was my favorite hoodie, you know?”

Wilbur turned around, laughter dying in his throat and looking for all the world like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar as Dream came into view. His hair moved comically through the air and ended up hanging over his eyes at the spinning motion, and Tommy couldn't help but make the connection to Moana, although it wasn't exactly long enough to whip around and smack him in the face.

A yelp came from Wilbur as he tried to fix his hair—apparently, some of it had gotten caught in the hinge of his glasses—Tommy then cackled at his brother's misfortune, Dream joining him.

“Ow ow ow owww, why does this keep happening?! Tommy, help me! You’re supposed to be on my side, we’re brothers, Tommy!”

Tommy muttered a few complaints, but did leave Dream’s side to help Wilbur. “Okay, so, just like… I dunno, get your hands out of the way. Here– yeah, okay, can you bend over a bit more so I can see better?” He huffed. Tommy grabbed the glasses with his left hand, using the right to expertly maneuver the stubborn curled strands out of the hinge. “There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

“No, I suppose not…” Wilbur trailed off as he got a good look at Tommy from the front. “ Tommy! Is that a– no, please tell me it’s commissioned and they don’t actually sell that as merch. And you’re wearing glasses today too? What is this, ‘become mini-Wilbur but also torture him’ day?”

“Neither, actually, I designed it myself.” Tommy replied cheekily, referring to the comic panel printed on the shirt. He ignored Wilbur’s glasses remark.

“Tommy, why would you do this to me?! I don’t need– no! Sally does not appreciate this slander, man! Neither do I, as a matter of fact!”

“Should’ve thought about that before you started dedicating a good half hour every day to monologues, speeches, essays, and soliloquies about Sally the Salmon, then. And no amount of your so-called evidence will make me believe she’s a real person and not just the salmon in your office.” Tommy pulled his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms.

“How do you even know what a soliloquy is, you’re like, twelve! And yes, Sally is a real human being! She’s my PR agent! Her codename is Salmon as an inside joke!”

“I will never believe you until I meet her myself.”

A wheeze sounded behind them– obviously Dream. Both turned to look at him, one with a glare and the other with a self-satisfied grin. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to notice that shirt, Wilbur!”

“He’s blind, so it took a while.”

“Ay, woah, hold on a sec there! I have glasses, so I can see just fine! You need eyesight correction too, Tommy, don’t forget that. We were also almost late, and then we were almost in a car crash; do you think I had time to observe your shirt?!”

“Blind.”

>~=~<

Tommy was bored. Wilbur had originally dragged him to his office, but ended up getting called away for something about “Public Relations, Twitter, blah blah whatever. ” 

The hero had offered to let him come with, but Tommy didn’t want to. If Sally was Wilbur’s PR agent, meeting her would concede defeat. He was just being cautious.

He wandered the halls, destination ignored in favor of curiosity. A faint buzzing noise droned on the edge of his consciousness for what seemed to have been hours. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he found it. 

Evidently, Tommy was going the right direction as the buzzing got louder. He followed it, coming to a pair of stainless steel doors– one of which was cracked open. Peeking his head in, he saw Sam working on something. The engineer was bent over the table, tools and parts organized on the surface around whatever he was working on. Tommy ducked quietly back out of the opening and closed the door with a soft click , not wanting to disturb him.

He went back to wandering.

The mostly-white hallways were quickly becoming boring the longer Tommy was around them. With this realization, he resumed his journey to the Commons in the North wing with purpose in his steps.

He passed the hero Hall of Fame (the name for the glorified hallway the heroes themselves had lined photos of their predecessors), and couldn’t help slowing to look at each one as he went past. 

There were heroes of every kind, from scouting to top-ranked heroes. It was inspiring, walking through this hallway. Different people stuck out to him every time.

Rhapsody: illusion, #3 hero, 2029-2036. Skydive: Air manipulation/minor telekinesis, surveillance, 2030-2041 ‘Alakazam: healing, front-line medical, 2034-2048. He died as he lived—a smile forever on his face, RIP friend and colleague.’ Shade: light manipulation, infiltration, 2041-2053. Captain: sheep hybrid/minor emotion sensing, #1 hero, 2045-2058.

Tommy came to a full stop in front of Puffy’s portrait, admiring her cool confidence and warm smile. Next to hers was Phil, a similar air about his as well, who’d retired shortly after Puffy did (Boreas: water and ice manipulation, #8 hero, 2045-2059).

These two were the reason he wanted to be a hero. He’d idolized Phil—or Boreas, he was called—long before getting fostered and then adopted by him. And if Phil was an idol, Puffy was the goddess walking among them all in the flesh, cloven hooves clopping the concrete sidewalk more gracefully than any model in heels ever could.

Tommy stood there a bit longer, reminiscing on this. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the air leaving his mouth filled with unspoken promises.

He was incredibly lucky to know them personally.

Another breath moved his foot back, and then he was walking away from the hallway.

Tommy bust open the swinging doors with both hands, charging into the large space with gusto. He grasped at strands around him as he did so, causing everyone to look in his direction. When he actually stopped to survey the room for a moment, Tommy was a bit surprised to find everyone crowded around the TV instead of ‘cooking’ (read: throwing ingredients at each other) in the kitchen, draped across the various couches, or chatting quietly in the corner. They were also all staring at him in amusement or fondness, except for Jack who made his eye roll very obvious as soon as they made eye contact and Bad who facepalmed and then shook his head.

…was that Ranboo?

“Do you ever just… not? Or are you always this attention seeking?” That would be Jack, again, with the friendly barbs. 

“Can’t help it, Jaffold, it’s a little side effect of my powers. You understand, of course, right? After all, I’m sure you must’ve had some crazy things happen with a funky ability like yours?” Jack scoffed and grinned, but didn’t deny it. Tommy's own face stretched to try and match his.

“Tommy, c’mere! There’s something on the news you might wanna see!” Sapnap called, waving his hand in a ‘come here’ motion you only ever saw on TV otherwise—as ifblond wasn’t already making his way over!

He tripped on someone’s staff, which would’ve been okay even for the hard landing, but then he also got electrocuted by the end, because the same someone forgot to turn it off. Tommy felt his limbs quiver as he lay on the ground

It was not to his surprise, only his chagrin, that he got laughed at instead of helped. (Well, except for the staff being kicked away.) Tommy let out a groan, choosing to lay pathetically on the floor instead of getting up. His pride was already wounded.

“You know, I could tell Twitter dot com about this. ‘Superheroes are actually evil.’ It would get so many retweets. You lot would get doxxed on the bird app and I would get all the hot women because ladies like a smart man.” He flopped an arm over his eyes.

“Okay, up with you. We get enough drama with Wilbur here.” A pair of strong arms lifted Tommy up off the floor. He made himself go limp, partially because he felt like causing trouble and partially because he still didn’t feel super great. The person (probably Bad, they did smell strongly of cinnamon and Bad was exceptionally tall) brought him up so his feet rested on the floor and let go. They obviously underestimated Tommy’s ability to quote “be an absolute goblin-y raccoon” unquote, and he let himself flop back onto the floor.

“Tommy, you’re going to miss it if you keep messing around. Get over here!” He pushed up off the ground, getting to the group in a few steps…

…and ended up standing next to Ranboo. It was Ranboo, which meant this whole thing might just be a dream. Admittedly, one of the weirder ones, because nothing out of the ordinary had happened yet. “Ranboob, for the love of everything explosive and violent, why–” he whispered, having nothing to worry about now that the TV’s volume was turned up and everyone was focused on the news report.

Ranboo pinched him. Ranboo pinched him. “That feel like a dream to you? Shut up, this is something you’re going to want to see,” his friend whispered back. 

This of course, raised a lot of questions. But he couldn’t ask any right then, in their current position, so instead he settled for: “Who says ‘going to?’ or ‘want to?’ why don’t you just say it like ‘gonna’ or ‘wanna’ like everyone else? Are you egotistical, Ranboob, is that it? You think you’re better than everyone else because ‘Memememe look at me, I’m Ranboob and I e-nun-ci-ate everything very clearly, which makes me so much better than all you peasants. Ohhh, look at me, I don’t use conjunctions!’” Tommy gestured with his hands  as he did so, adding (in his opinion) quite a lot to the performance.

“Tommy shut up or I will be the one swearing upon everything that is explosive and violent. Just watch the news report, please?”

“Wow, Ranboob, I seem to have misjudged you. Maybe you don’t have the backbone of a chocolate eclair after a–” Tommy was cut off by a cool hand covering his mouth. Another one was placed on the back of his head, and the hands (Ranboo’s, obviously) directed his face towards the screen.

Any plans to lick the hand died as soon as he looked. There was a picture of him. Not as a regular, ordinary civilian with a perfectly ‘normal’ family, either. It was him as a vigilante! 

“This vigilante, calling themselves Showstopper, was first sighted a few months ago when they apprehended a car thief and then called the police like a drop-off service. At the time, there were no witnesses from anyone but the criminal himself who gave a report after he regained consciousness several hours later. Since then, Showstopper hasn’t seemed to have had any activity that isn’t stopping petty criminals. Their abilities also haven’t been revealed, all we know is that they have some sort of throwing discs that secrete paralyzing and power-nulling fluids, respectively, as weapons.

Not much is known about this new vigilante or their goals, although they’ve been spotted several times in or near the same areas that members of the Indigo Union frequent. We don’t know yet whether they are there with nefarious purposes, or in some foolish attempt to unprofessionally stop the crime in those areas. For this reason, they’ve been marked as ‘highly dangerous;’ just below top priority. If you happen to catch sight of Showstopper, do not engage. Instead, call the police or the emergency line at the Heroes’ Guild.

Remember that even if vigilantes are trying to help, they’re doing it without government approval or proper training, and as such are at risk to hurt themselves and others. Showstopper, just like all vigilantes, is committing a crime and is still a criminal, regardless of their true intentions. Back to you, Cliff.”

The ‘special report’ ended, and the other anchor— Cliff?— started rambling about the election in two years’ time.

“Well, whoever this Showstopper dude is, he needs a better hobby. Something like doing my laundry, I think.” Tommy announced. His desperate grab for a deflection somewhat succeeded; he got a few people chuckling.

Ranboo sent him a glare that easily read as ‘that’s not funny and you know it,’ to which Tommy’s only response was to give him a sheepish smile.

“I’m going to find Wilbur, see you lot later!” Tommy turned and left the room, half-hoping his friend would follow him.

He told himself he wasn’t disappointed when there wasn’t a long-legged pattern of steps behind him.