Chapter Text
“—once again we are seeing more and more violent gatherings around the outskirts of the SMP, protesting what they claim to be a ‘classist’ hero society in hopes of better protection throughout the streets of the less wealthy. Later tonight, sending you to Jack Manifold who is live on the scene, and more on SMP news—”
Ranboo clicked off the TV, tensing in concern.
“Ranboob, man, lighten up,” The tall blonde groaned from across the room, sensing his nerves. “These protests have been happening for months now, it’s nothing new.”
Tubbo, who was sitting next to Ranboo on the couch, nodded in agreement. “You’re overthinking again bossman.”
Ranboo sighed, pinching his nose bridge in exasperation, “No, no, you don’t get it. They’ve been getting out of control, and the media is taking it so far as covering it up.” He stood up to begin pacing the room, “Notice how the reporter failed to mention that the police threw tear gas into the crowd last week because they were tipped off about someone in the crowd’s possession of a gun? Not to mention crime rates have been escalating in nearly every low income neighborhood!”
“But that’s what the heroes are for innit? If the police can’t handle the violence they can just send some ranked hero to stand guard,” Tommy perked up, words slightly slurred in exhaustion.
“That’s the problem! Not a single hero has shown up on scene since the violence began! It’s because they don’t give a shit what happens outside the official borders of the SMP, and it’s left to vigilantes like me to deal with,” Ranboo cried, collapsing against the couch once again. Tubbo patted his shoulder in an attempt of reassurance.
Tommy gruffed, not at all interested in anything at the moment other than falling asleep. He laid sprawled out on the twin sized mattress that sat on the floor with a measly pillow and throw blanket, his long legs falling off the end of the bed, “Mhm..”
Ranboo sighed, knowing he wouldn’t listen, though Tubbo just stared at him concerningly. “Boo, are you patrolling tonight?”
“I mean.. I sort of have to, don't I? People could get hurt amongst all the fighting,” he mumbled, eyelids drooping in long for sleep despite himself.
Tommy’s arm jerked up in a point, “Nope! Not happening. We have an opening shift tomorrow at the café, we can’t handle your post-ability side effects.”
Ranboo shifted his eyes to his hands, which sat intertwined in his lap. His hybrid traits left his skin with monochromatic halves, and his left and right hands directly contradicted each other with their long black and white claws. Tommy was right, using his ability didn’t fare well for early mornings, but he felt almost obligated to at least check the streets out.
“It’ll be quick. Skim through the alleys by the crowds, make sure there’s nothing sketchy, and I’ll be back.” Tubbo’s brow lifted in suspicion. “Promise,” Ranboo finished off.
Tommy was dead asleep, Ranboo was already standing up to put on his lackluster disguise, and Tubbo knew he couldn’t stop him, so he hesitantly nodded and turned the TV back on, switching to the first channel that played either a children’s cartoon or a true crime show.
Ranboo, in the meantime, changed into his costume, which normally would be considered civilian clothes had he not sloppily sewn a felt ‘E’ on the back. He slipped on black sweatpants, along with the monochromatic ‘E’ hoodie that was equipped with a stolen FBI vest (in which he covered the FBI logo with black tape) and a belt containing multiple emergency weapons, and glanced in the mirror to assure that everything was on tight.
He looked somewhat foolish, but it was the outfit civilians had begun to associate with the vigilante Enderian and it kept him safe, so he couldn’t argue.
To finalize it, he put on a pair of half red half green tinted goggles that strapped around the hood, as well as a black and white face mask, to hide his identity. Tommy, whom Ranboo had assumed was passed out, still let out a small laugh from the floor at the sight of him, “You look as shit as always, Ranboob,” he mumbled.
Ranboo rolled his eyes, politely flipping him off from behind his back, and headed for the window.
“Be safe and keep it short! Don’t exhaust yourself any more than you have too,” Tubbo called out from the couch, and Ranboo replied with a quick affirmative before climbing out the window to reach the ladder to the roof.
Their apartment’s window faced against a brick wall, so he was fortunate enough to not be worried about being caught as he climbed to the rooftop, giving him a clear view of the boulevard.
The streets near his home were quiet at this time of night, per usual, but he knew only a few blocks down was where the protests lay. He breathed in as his vision swirled and he felt an invisible string pulling him, until he snapped the string along with a quick vwoomp, and he found himself standing on a different roof— only this time the streets were filled with people lining against a police barcade, shouting.
It only took him a second to recover from the disorientation of his power, before he was leaping off the ladders and porches to reach the ground. A few people in the crowd noticed him, and whispers spread between them, though none of it could be heard on top of the protests.
Ranboo tried to keep his head down as he weaved through the people, even though his costume was anything but inconspicuous, as he tried to reach the alleyways on the other side. He focused most of his energy on scanning the crowd with his hearing, trying to pick up any peculiar energy that could cause concern, but he was met with only the same constant buzz he heard 24/7.
That was, until he felt a sudden strong grip held onto his arm, and when he turned to face it he was met with a punch to the face. Ranboo yelped in surprise, before returning to his senses once he noticed the man that attacked him had disappeared. He hissed under his breath, feeling the semi-broken goggles and praying it didn’t bruise. Now he was on high alert, turning in circles looking for anyone avoiding him.
And then, he heard a shout in the crowd. “Tear gas!”
He ducked his head as he saw a small can chucked into the crowd, and covered his ears to block both the echoes of panicked screaming as well as the high pitched buzzing his hybrid ears picked up from the chaos. He closed his eyes, found the string, and pulled away, teleporting back to the roof that overlooked it all.
He saw the retreating crowd of people running away from the now forming cloud of gas, but settled on a small group of bystanders wearing gas masks who stood still on the side lines, not moving a muscle. Something tingled inside his mind, and he found himself teleporting to stand in front of them. The men did not flinch, remaining staring blankly behind him.
“—Hello…?” Ranboo managed, coughing slightly to distort his voice.
The men did not move, though through the protection of the gas mask Ranboo could have sworn he saw their eyes glimmer an unnatural green. Before he had the chance to add on, his hearing alarmed him with a high pitch screech behind him, giving him time to whip around and avoid the force of a metal bat to his head. He swerved to the side, seeing a fourth member of the masked men stumbling forward after his failed attempt.
Ranboo did not wait for an explanation. He pulled the string to place him a foot away from the armed man, and grabbed his shoulders to knee him in between the legs. The man shrieked, dropping the metal bat, and giving time for Ranboo to grab his right shoulder and place his foot behind his ankle, tripping the man violently to the floor. He pushed the man's hands aggressively together, before bringing himself back up once he noticed the other men’s movement. One reached for the metal bat, while another one attempted to surround Ranboo from behind where he stood. Ranboo used his long limbs to his advantage, side stepping to kick the bat further away, only to punch the man square in the face. The man stumbled, before catching himself and focusing all his little attention on Ranboo, kicking the side of his ribs. Ranboo winced, and was then met with yet another kick to his back by the second man.
It was at this point did Ranboo remember he was missing the count of somebody, the third masked man, whom he could sense with a low hum was activating his power. “Dammit,” Ranboo gruffed, frustrated that he overlooked the possibility the men had abilities. His head was already pounding and his lungs were tight from the overwhelming gas, he had to wrap this up fast. He took in a deep breath, resulting in a sharp jab from where he had been kicked in the ribs before, and then teleported to the back of the second man. He swiped the man's feet, causing him to fall to the ground on top of the first man.
Two left, he thought to himself as he evaded the two men on the ground to approach the one in front of him. The man went in for another kick, but this time Ranboo was prepared and grabbed his foot, twisting it as far as he could. The man yelped and tore the leg away, giving Ranboo a chance to punch his throat, targeting his vocal chords. The man fell to his knees, holding his now bruised neck in pain.
“He will not falter.” Hissed an echoing, unfamiliar voice from the shadows.
Ranboo whipped around, ready to take the last one down, but he was met with nothing. The low hum had disappeared, implying the man had either stopped using his ability or had left all together. Ranboo sighed, and with no sign of the last man he turned back to the others, who all laid defeated and eyes lifeless, just as he had found them before. He pulled open a pocket on his belt, taking out multiple zip ties, and tied the men up. He would’ve preferred he guaranteed the men’s arrest by alerting the cops, but it was far too dangerous considering the fact vigilantism wasn’t even legal. Plus, it was definitely not healthy that he'd been in the tear gas that long, even with the goggles, because his eyes were burning.
He grimaced at the stiffness in his side where he’d been kicked, but closed his eyes to pull at the very long invisible line to bring him home.
Needless to say that when he got back he was met with a very sleepy (and very concerned) Tubbo.
“I can’t believe you fucking broke your ribs in the thirty minutes you patrolled for,” Tommy laughed from the kitchen, where he was busy making sandwiches.
“O-okay, just no- I bruised them. Also you were completely passed out— what, did you like time me or something?” Ranboo defended, trying to stay still as Tubbo wrapped around his stomach with bandages.
“Believe it or not, boob boy, but I am a very light sleeper!” Tommy put his hand on his own heart in an attempt for a touching gesture, “And Tubbo isn’t exactly the quietest when he’s fussing over you like a fucking mother hen.” Tubbo paused to stick his tongue out at Tommy in response.
Ranboo rolled his eyes, “Wow sorry I woke you, your majesty. Didn’t mean to disrupt your royal beauty rest with my peril.”
“Don’t you dare—! Only the queen may use that title, you monster. And, you know what? Apology not accepted. Bitch,” Tommy spat.
“Who the heck is this queen you always talk about Tommy?! There are literally no remaining monarchs here. Unless you’re talking about off-world?”
Tubbo finally finished dressing Ranboo’s injuries, and hushed the boys’ argument, “Boo, what are we gonna do about your black eye?”
Ranboo glanced in the mirror, squinting at the bruise around his eye from when he was first punched. “It’s fine, I’ll just say I hit my eye on something. Not like we can cover it up, we’re out of concealer.”
“Fine,” Tubbo sighed, “But if Niki yells at you s’ not my fault!”
Tommy finally popped out of the kitchen, holding three paper bags in one hand, and a pair of sneakers in the other. “Speaking of which, we’re gonna be late for our shift. So can we wrap this up?” Tommy paused for a moment, before meticulously laughing at Ranboo’s injuries, “Pun intended.”
Ranboo held back the urge to tackle the teen to the ground as he and Tubbo both headed for the door to put their own shoes on.
“Hmph. My jokes are never appreciated,” Tommy huffed, opening the door.
Niki stared in disbelief as the three young boys stumbled into her café, oozing with excuses.
The tall hybrid, Ranboo, approached her first, the other two playfully pushing each other back and forth behind him. “Niki, I am so sorry we’re late! Tubbo and I slept through our alarm, then I hit my head on the counter and it bruised, and we missed our train so we had to take a different one that was way over crowded, and then a freaking robbery took place right in front of us and a hero escorted us the opposite direction,” Ranboo rambled, words mixing up and eyes darting every direction as Niki desperately tried to convey she wasn’t upset.
“Ranboo- Ranboo! It’s okay, you aren’t in trouble! In fact, you’re actually early!” She reassured, smiling the smile she’d been told so many times was a comfort to people. She hoped for the frantic teens' sake that it was true.
“Wait. What?”
She laughed, though with no malice behind it, “Ranboo, did you forget? It’s sunday! We open late on sundays.”
“Oh.”
From behind him, Tubbo paused his child-like fight with Tommy to groan, “All that for nothing! All that stress—” he dramatically fell into Tommy for effect, “for nothing!”
Tommy pushed him off, “For fucks sake, Tubso!”
“Well, you can always help me set up. You aren’t that early, so I’d consider you all on duty right about now,” Niki grinned, enjoying the boy's banter.
Ranboo immediately nodded and went behind the counter to grab his apron, Tubbo and Tommy following close behind mumbling insults to one another. Niki laughed to herself before following them back.
“Welcome to Niki’s café, my name is Tubbo, what can I get for you?” Tubbo smiled.
It was just like every other day, and the boys had found a pretty much foolproof system for while they were at work. Ranboo’s hybrid traits tended to freak people out, not to mention his social anxiety, so he typically made the drinks and prepared the food behind the counter. Tommy was a bit too hot headed to work the front register, so he managed the drive through while grating his teeth whenever a customer was rude. Tubbo was most definitely the most socially acceptable of the three, having both the social skills and stability to be able to work the register along with another boy their age named Purpled. Meanwhile, Niki used her ability in the back to grow homemade coffee beans and cook all the pastries. And, the system worked wonders. Niki’s café was the most popular in their district, both for the amazing and quick customer service and for the magical food and coffee that somehow warmed people up inside.
Because of the top reviews and amount of success the shop got, they often would see people come from higher income areas just to try it. Whenever they did, the employees did their best to make a good impression, while the other customers glared in jealousy and distaste.
That was, until a group of people came through the door. This time it wasn’t just any wealthy citizen, it was a celebrity. In through the door came the famed reporter Jack Manifold, along with his manager and bodyguards. The reporter stood in the center of the café and turned in a circle, eyeing the place, before looking at Ranboo and eyes widening.
Ranboo shrunk at the attention, but luckily for him Tubbo perked up. “Hello Mr. Manifold, is there something we can help you with?”
The reporter barely batted an eye to Tubbo before pointing again to Ranboo, “You there. Go get the owner.”
Ranboo hesitantly glanced at Tubbo for approval, before nodding and heading to the back of the café.
Niki looked up from her hands stuck in bread dough, “Everything okay?” She asked, seeing the concern on Ranboo’s face.
“Uh, J-Jack Manifold, the reporter, is here… and he, uh, wants you.”
Niki’s eyes darted to the door back out to the main room, “What? Why?”
Ranboo didn’t need to answer, she was already putting the dough down and striding outside.
“Jack Manifold, sir, is everything alright?” She questioned, eyes serious. Niki wasn’t partial to the wealthy that visited either, though it would be in poor taste to treat them badly.
“Ah, Niki Nihachu! So nice to meet you. Terribly sorry to invade without notice, but my manager couldn’t find a business number anywhere so we figured we would just walk in,” He outstretched his arms, before retreating at the sight of Niki’s mess.
“Not all are as fortunate as others to have a business number,” She spat, trying to hold back the passive aggressive tone.
Jack nodded, though his face proved he didn’t listen to a word she said. “I’m here in hopes of an interview with the SMP’s most successful bakery in all of the lower district!” He grinned.
Niki baffled, the anger on her face fleeting for a moment, before returning as suspicion and hope. “Really? Now?”
His manager nodded, and Jack took a seat at one of the two person tables, beckoning Niki to join him. It passed her notice that the bodyguards were already escorting frustrated customers out of the store, much to the employees dismay. “For the record, this conversation will be recorded with the purpose for when we write the article.”
Niki nodded, glancing back at her employees who now all stood just by the counter, waiting for an order. “You guys can just—”
“So, Miss Niki,” Manifold clapped, interrupting her, “Tell me, how long ago did you open this establishment?”
Niki refocused to the reporter, “Thirteen years. It was my sister’s for more then half of it, but I took over once I got out of college.”
“Incredible, and how old are you?”
“Twenty-seven.”
Jack nodded, taping something on his recorder to mark it. “Everyone knows that this café is famous for it’s treats and service, can you tell me something about the secret behind your pastries, or your employees?”
Niki spared a glance back to her workers, who were messing around and laughing at each other. She smiled, “Unfortunately my recipes are a café secret, however the reason behind my success is really my coworkers. We’re all as close as family, you know? These boys are great hard workers, and I look forward to seeing where they go in the future.”
“Now, I notice that you used the term ‘coworkers’, despite the fact you are their employer. Is that because of your bond, or simply a business standpoint?”
“Yes, I think seeing your workers as your equals is really the key to great teamwork.”
“And I see behind you that you have a hybrid on the team, does that at all affect your customers' safety?” He casually nodded his head towards Ranboo, as if he hadn’t just asked a terribly rude question.
Ranboo stiffened at being mentioned, and Niki scowled. “Pardon me?”
“All I’m saying is there has been quite a bit of controversy surrounding the safety of hybrids in the workplace, considering the statistics that more and more have been appearing in violent uprisings. This makes me wonder if you’ve seen a decrease in business since their hire?”
Ranboo curled in on himself, Tubbo gripping his hand tight. That’s odd. He thought, When did he take my hand?
“Jack Manifold, with all due respect, if you are going to come into my establishment and accuse my employee for something he can’t control, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The reporter spared a look to his manager, before turning back. “You know what, that’s fine. I believe we’ve gathered enough information anyways. You will most likely be seeing the article in a day or two.”
Jack stood up and before he reached the door, he glared at Ranboo. “It’s been a pleasure.”
And with that, he left.
Technoblade dropped the newspaper on the coffee table before him. “Phil, you gotta see this.”
From behind the kitchen wall, an old blonde man peaked his head around the corner in curiosity at being addressed. He walked to sit next to the piglin hybrid, looming over to read the headline of the newspaper. “Café in lower district allows the employment of a hybrid— a disaster waiting to happen,” he read, voice hushing to a whisper as he got further. “Oh prime.”
“Yeah. My thoughts exactly,” Techno picked up the newspaper, rereading the details of the article. “I thought the prejudice against hybrids was next to nothing in the lower income areas, but then Manifold pulled this shit and bam,” Techno mimicked an explosion with his hands to demonstrate. Unfortunately, Phil understood perfectly.
“And look at the article itself— there’s hardly any direct quotes from the owner herself. For all we know, he just bullshat the whole thing for his dumb anti-hybrid propaganda.”
“I can’t imagine how the café is handling this. This kind of publicity is never good,” Techno sighed, leaning back into the couch.
“You’re right. Why don’t you go check it out tomorrow? You’ve been meaning to look into the riots down there anyways, right?”
Techno looked over in surprise. Philza never displayed any interest in what was going on with the lower districts, the riots, the protests— so this was a first. Techno knew he couldn’t pass up the opportunity and nodded, “Might as well stop by on patrol tonight too.”
Phil nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Technoblade knew he didn’t have a care in the world for politics or details of the system like Techno did, but when his kind was threatened he was all a twitter at the thought of helping, even if the man didn’t admit it.
Well, Technoblade would have to pay a little visit to a café in the lower district now. Just great.