Chapter Text
TommyInnit was not your usual vigilante. No, he was more than that--he was tall and graceful, a ladies man, an unstoppable force of nature.
Usually.
Right now however, all Tommy wanted to do was scream. The grocery store was packed, and there were so many sounds, and Tommy could barely see and his hearing aid didn’t stop all the sounds from going fuzzy and--
And he was panicking. It was stupid, after all he was an incredible vigilante, he had a near spotless track record, but yet being at the overpacked store made him wish that he had the opportunity to rescind all of that just so he could get out of here as soon as possible.
But that wasn't an option--Tommy had to get food for dinner, per Ranboo's request. They didn't have a lot of money, and this store was the cheapest by far, so it made sense to buy things here.
However, the people at this store were fucking assholes.
Tommy clutched his basket of food close to his chest. He rarely used shopping carts, after all he never was able to buy enough food to fill them, so what was the point?
He moved through the crowd, wincing as skin brushed by his own. He didn't want this. All he wished was to be home, or out on patrol, or anywhere else where people didn’t look at him and his hearing aids with pity or ignorance, and things could finally be blissfully quiet.
Tommy could not stand any more of this, so he made his way to check-out. He loaded each and every item quickly onto the strip, wanting nothing more than to leave.
The cashier said something, but Tommy was staring at his shoes and couldn’t decipher it, even with his hearing aids. “Yeah?” he tried, looking back up at the cashier.
“That’ll be $30.49.” She didn’t slow down her speech, which Tommy appreciated. The amount of ignorant assholes he ran into on the daily had made him surprised when someone showed even the slightest bit of human decency.
Forking over the money, Tommy grabbed the plastic bags handed to him. There were only two, and so he carried them rather easily on his walk back home.
Outside was peaceful. It was late, maybe seven, and a weekday, so most people were within their houses. Tommy looked longingly at the bright lights and people moving around quickly. Nowadays, Tommy rarely had time to do anything with his roommate besides eat dinner together, and even that was becoming a shorter and shorter occasion.
Nevertheless, both boys made it a point to clear their schedule so that they could eat dinner together. Ranboo often had to pull the night shift at the bookstore, and Tommy’s sleep schedule was fucked with his vigilante activities, so it was a tall order. Still, they made it work.
Tommy walked up to his apartment, holding both bags in his left hand. He knocked on the door before entering, letting Ranboo know he was home.
The taller boy was currently napping on the armchair in the living room, glasses skewed and nearly falling off of his face. Tommy laughed, grabbed his phone and snapped a photo. Then, he grabbed his roommate by the shoulder and shook him hard, watching with amusement when said roommate fell off the chair.
“Wha’ time’s it?” Ranboo asked, pushing his reading glasses back onto his face, then, thinking better of it, took them off and placed them on the nearby table. The table was rickety and unstable, and had only a single dim lamp on it. He quickly swapped his reading glasses out for a pair of sunglasses. Ranboo was sensitive to light, and since Tommy often needed light to understand parts of conversation, he wore sunglasses instead.
“Late,” Tommy said, and he enjoyed the look of panic that drifted across Ranboo’s face.
“Did I miss our dinner? I didn’t mean to, you know we haven't missed once since--”
“Calm down, Ranboob,” Tommy said, kicking him lightly in the shins. “It’s only 8 or so, your shift doesn’t start until 9. Now get the fuck up and help me make dinner. I’m not doing this shit by myself.”
“Your pranks are getting less and less funny,” Ranboo grumbled.
“No.” Tommy said, and he left to go to the kitchen. “My pranks are amazing, and this isn’t a prank. Come help me.”
Ranboo stumbled in behind him, still drowsy from sleep.
“I’m not giving you a knife, so start the boil cooking thing.”
“Stock pot?”
“That's what I said Ranboo.”
“I really don’t think it was--”
“Anyways!” Tommy jumped in. “I skipped a couple of things we needed, just to give ourselves a little challenge.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“You probably wouldn’t.” Tommy sniffed. “You’re a non-believer.”
“Non-believer in what? Ghosts? In that case I am very much a believer. God? I killed him.”
“A non-believer in me. Besides, Ranboo,” Tommy enunciated his roommates name in the way he knows always annoys him, “I am better than ghosts and gods. I’m a vigilante after all.”
“A bad one,” Ranboo muttered under his breath, then laughed as he glanced at Tommy glaring at him. “You’re okay I guess.”
“A high compliment from you, boob boy.”
“ Please don’t call me that.”
“Watch me bitch.” Tommy supervised Ranboo getting out the pot, then nicked his finger slightly. “Shit!” He nearly put his finger in his mouth, but Ranboo grabbed his arm.
“It’ll get infected, idiot.” Ranboo dragged Tommy to the sink and made him keep the finger under the water. “It’s a wonder you’ve survived so long. Natural selection should have, y’know, selected you by now.”
Tommy huffed. “I’m too big a man for ‘nateral projection,’ or whatever the fuck you just said.”
“That's not--” Ranboo sighed, placing his head in his hands. Tommy cackled at his roommate's misery.
When Tommy’s finger had nearly stopped bleeding, Ranboo took over cutting vegetables. He dumped them in the pot, added some spices along with some ‘secret ingredient’ Tommy wasn’t supposed to see, then continually stirred the mixture.
“Soup takes sooooo long,” Tommy dragged out, fetching a band aid for his finger. He glared at the band aid in disgust. “What the fuck is this?”
“A band aid,” Ranboo said, failing to hide the smirk that lay on his lips.
“You bastard,” Tommy responded. The band aid was bright fucking pink with a Technoblade sticker on it, and “blood for the blood god” written over it. “How did you even get these? ‘Blood for the blood god’ went out of style like two years ago, after that whole media scandal.”
“Niki gave them to me,” Ranboo said. Tommy liked Niki--she was one of Ranboo’s employers, and would allow Ranboo to take home the pastries that weren’t sold by the end of the day. Ranboo grabbed a spoon and tasted the soup. “These are definitely some interesting substitutes.”
Tommy popped on the band aid. “Repeat that?”
“I said the things you bought at the store are interesting substitutes.”
Tommy scoffed. “They’re great fucking substitutes. All vegetablely and spicy and shit.”
“Have you even tasted this? Putting spaghetti in this soup would have tasted better than whatever spice you managed to get that somehow tastes like cheez-whiz in powdered form.”
“Cheez-whiz?” Tommy clapped his hands together. “Gimme. That sounds great, I don't know why you’re complaining.”
“Cheese does not go in this soup.”
“You’re not thinking big enough, boob boy. Cheez-whiz belongs in everything.” Tommy grabbed the spice from Ranboo’s hand and tasted it, then made a face. “Maybe not this spice though.”
Ranboo smiled. “C’mon, it's already nearly nine. We gotta get a move-on if I want to get to work on time.”
Tommy pouted, but eventually stopped mourning his finger and began helping Ranboo again. The soup was finished as quickly as the two of them could.
They sat down at the table, facing each other, eating their soup and avoiding eye contact. Dinners were nice. Tommy wasn’t expected to try and look at Ranboo’s face while eating just to carry on conversation, so he could just enjoy the admittedly shitty meal. The night outside brought in cool air, which Tommy was very thankful for. The vigilante suit was unprofessional, consisting of only a hoodie, a neck warmer taped so it would stay, cargo pants to carry a variety of weapons, and sunglasses. However, this made it extremely hot in the summer. It was nearing June, and Tommy just wanted to be able to have a break.
He heard something, muddled and unclear, and he looked up. What, he signed after putting his spoon down. He tended to take his hearing aids when he got home, since they could be uncomfortable. When he left for patrol he would have to be sure to remember to put them back on.
“You done?” Ranboo signed as he spoke this time. Tommy nodded, and Ranboo rose to take his plate away.
Once the dishes were put in their proper places for washing tomorrow, Ranboo grabbed his coat, swung it over his shoulders then gave Tommy a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t do anything stupid on patrol, or else I’ll bring you back from the dead and murder you.”
“I won’t,” Tommy said, a little exasperated. Ranboo gave him this speech every time he left for work. “I’m the great TommyInnit, a big man, no one can dare to injure me.”
Ranboo smiled, and it was a little sad. “Okay Tommy.” He pulled on his boots, weary after working a shift at the bakery, yet still having to travel to the bookstore to work the night shift there.
With a blink, Ranboo was out the door and Tommy was alone.
------
Patrol was always fun. Sometimes, Tommy wondered late at night if he was sick from deriving pleasure from his late night criminal excursions. After all, Tommy wasn’t the point of it--it was about the civilians, it was about showing the capital they didn’t need them, it was about caring about your neighbor and helping criminals reform before it was too late--but yet, as he ran from rooftop to rooftop, the wind pushing past him, he couldn’t help but cheer.
The streets had been empty so far--suspiciously so, if Tommy had to say. It was nearing 2am in the morning, and Tommy was exhausted. Because of job cuts at one of Ranboo’s jobs, Tommy had to take on one as well, and that had resulted in him losing sleep.
When he turned the corner though, he found what he was looking for. “Bingo,” he whispered under his breath.
In the alley below was a group of people, maybe six overall. They all wore masks that covered their faces, and were looking very suspiciously at the shop across the street.
Tommy’s heart dropped. That’s Niki’s shop, he realized. He waited for them to cross the street, then winced when one of them grabbed a brick from their bag and used it to smash the windows open. Tommy was going to fucking kill them for touching what was Niki’s. He hoped the window loss wouldn't lead to Niki firing Ranboo due to monetary issues. They really couldn’t deal with that right now. The alarms for the shop went off, loud and overpowering.
“Hey bitch boys!” Tommy shouted, having climbed down from the roof. “Or bitch women. Or bitch people. My point is, you’re thieving bitches, and as much as--” Tommy cut himself off when two of the group rushed towards him.
He had two options here. One was to fight. Tommy liked to think he was pretty good at fighting--he had started training by himself almost a year ago, and he had improved a lot. However, the first option was nowhere near as fool proof a plan as using the second option.
The second option was simple--to use his powers. Tommy didn’t like to flaunt them much in public--he used to, and he would get harassed, or just confused looks. After a while of that, Tommy had learned to keep the powers secret.
In all honesty, he was quite proud of his power. It was unique--not fucking super strength, that was for sure. No, the great TommyInnit had something better--the ability to slow time.
Granted, that ability only lasted five seconds. Then again, while in between time’s movement, each second was stretched to feel as long as a minute to Tommy.
There was only one perceivable downside--If the power was used for more than those five seconds, Tommy would almost immediately pass out. If it was used for an extremely long time, Ranboo estimated that he may die.
Tommy gripped the baton he held in his hand, and made his choice.
Although using magic had a higher success rate, it made him dizzy and unreliable. He was tired, and overworked, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Using the baton would take energy, but not nearly as much as his powers would.
He swung at the first one, hitting them straight in the head. The second was more cautious, but as they threw a punch Tommy grabbed their arm and yanked them forward until he could hit them with his trusty baton.
More of the criminals came towards him. Three of them, if he had to guess. He presumed the last one was somewhere taking money from Niki. The alarms of her shop were still going off, loud and blaring, and Tommy wished he wasn’t wearing his hearing aids as of now.
It was obvious these criminals weren’t professionally trained. They were clumsy, and couldn’t work as a group. They were all unconscious with head injuries within the next few minutes.
Tommy went towards the last member. Currently, they were stealing money from the cash register, greedily stuffing it into a bag.
“What the fuck are you doing?’
The person’s head raised until they were almost eye level with Tommy. “I--I--”
“Stealing is for bitches, fuckwad.” Tommy raised the baton, and the man shrank backwards.
“No, please. I need the money--we all do.” The criminal shook. “You know there isn’t enough money down here in the outer districts--the capital hoards it all. I just need to feed my family. Just one more chance.”
Tommy tilted his head. There was no training to deal with this, with these grey situations where morality was entirely subjective. “Stealing is bad,” he repeated. “Especially from here.”
The criminal bowed their head, lowering to their knees. “Please--they say you’re like us. Forsaken by the capital, left to fight it out. I just need another chance. The prison system is fucked. Everyone knows it. If I get sent there, I’m not gonna be able to come back, and my family will starve.”
“I--” Tommy stopped. He hadn’t known about the prison system--he would need to look into that. “Don’t do it again. If I catch you stealing from Niki again, there will be consequences.” He hit the criminal over the head, but refrained from calling the police.
It was almost 3am at that point. Ranboo would return home in a little over three hours. For now, Tommy dragged the unconscious bodies to the nearby alley, and taped a note on one of their chests, that basically was a long winded way of telling them off for doing illegal shit that hurt people and their businesses. Tommy dragged himself up. He was glad he hadn’t reverted to using his powers--he barely even had the energy to fight them physically. Using his powers now, regardless of the time, might have winded him to the point where he couldn’t get back to the apartment.
He ran from roof to roof, careful to land on his toes and cause the least amount of sound possible. The criminal's words concerned him, for a couple reasons. First of all, he had seemed sure that Tommy was “like him.” Tommy wasn't even sure that he had made a name for himself, much less that he was well known enough for people to be sure of where he came from. Also, there was the matter of the prison system.
Tommy didn’t know much about it. He’d been to juvie a fair amount of times, but that was different. In the juvie system here, there was a max sentence of six months for anyone charged as a minor.
But now that he thought about it, he hadn’t known of anyone who had gone to the prison and returned. Hell, he wasn’t even aware if there was any footage of the actual trials and such. If there even were trials, a voice whispered to him. Tommy ignored it, instead running in order to make the largest jump that he needed to do his whole route.
Heights didn't scare him. In fact, they were familiar. Tommy had grown up in the mountains, surrounded by beautiful views. He had grown up in a society where his parents could get by, just by holding one job and still have enough time to take care of him. Things were easier then.
Memories flittered by him, but Tommy pushed them out of his brain. He didn’t need distractions.
He soon found himself in front of his apartment. The stairs were painful to climb. Tommy was sore and tired, and he just wanted to be able to embrace sleep’s warm body.
Nevertheless, he powered through it. His phone beeped, marking 5:45am on the dot, fifteen minutes past when Ranboo's shift ended.
The phone had been a lucky chance. It was old, sure, but it was functional. Tommy had been gifted it by the nice lady who he always helped with groceries while in vigilante mode. Apparently, she didn’t know how to work it, and so Tommy had thrown it to Tubbo and Tubbo had fixed the couple of flaws it had.
At the thought of Tubbo, he felt his face darken.
He pushed away the thoughts. Reaching the top of the stairs, he jammed his key into the apartment lock, then ripped the door open. Ranboo had gotten home earlier than usual, it seemed. He was passed out on their shared bed, gangly limbs everywhere. Tommy huffed.
After changing into pajamas, Tommy crawled into his side of the bed, wincing as Ranboo kicked him. In retaliation, Tommy pushed him as far away as possible.
He took out his hearing aids. Whenever he forgot, they always seemed to fall out and he was terrified that he would lose them. If he did, they certainly wouldn’t have enough money for another pair.
Once his hearing aids were placed carefully on the side of the bed, Tommy curled into a small ball, closing his eyes.
He drifted off to sleep, blissfully unaware of the boy who stood outside his apartment building.
The boy clutched the pendant in his pocket, reminiscing on what used to be. After staring at the apartment longingly, he turned around and left without saying a word.